by G A Chase
With no business to conduct, no people to see, and enough money in his account to last a couple of lifetimes, Colin wandered the streets of the Quarter, searching for a more respectable place to call home. Sleeping outside next to the statue had been an interesting experiment inspired by a picture hanging in his office. The framed photograph of a lone vagrant on a park bench still haunted him, but copying the man’s life hadn’t answered any questions.
Colin spotted a For Sale sign hanging from the balcony of a grand creole mansion that was purported to be haunted. So much space had never been his desire. Only people trying to flaunt their wealth bothered with buildings so large they took a crew of servants to maintain. Not that Colin was above such ostentation, but now that he had no one to impress, the added space just meant it was a longer walk from the bedroom to the kitchen.
“I want something high enough that I can look over the other buildings, but in the Quarter this time. And no friggin’ neighbors, or whatever you call these fake people you’ve got running around here.” Though talking to himself might be seen as a bad sign, he didn’t think he’d started losing his mind just yet. As a businessman, he’d learned that vocalizing his desires had a way of making them manifest before his eyes. Life and hell had a lot in common.
As he wandered down Bienville Street toward the river, he spotted exactly what he wanted. An abandoned brick structure, which looked completely out of place at the outskirts of a parking lot, had just been remodeled into upscale condominiums. Even though there was no sign out front listing availability, he walked into the main office as though he owned the building. “I’d like to see the top floor.”
The construction manager wore a crisply tailored suit and a hard hat. “We’re still in the construction phase. These units won’t be ready until next spring.”
Memories of his old life as a corporate raider mixed with his suspicion of still being hell’s devil. “Your boss probably doesn’t work for me, but his boss likely does. And even if that happens not to be true, I can assure you that it’s my money that’s paying for all this activity. If you don’t wish to show me the top floor, I’m sure you can find someone above your pay grade who can.”
Colin watched in amusement as the exchange had the desired effect on the man. As always, the transformation started with the eyes. The dull, lifeless, bored expression changed as though someone had thrown a light switch. Colin barely caught the flash of light as the man looked down at his blueprints. People always tried to hide the change in personality.
When the foreman looked up, his demeanor made it clear that Colin had gotten through to his jailor. “We’re just putting the finishing touches on that unit. The far elevator is dedicated to the penthouse.” The man opened the middle drawer of the desk and pulled out a set of keys.
Now, why do you need those if the building is still under construction? Colin had been involved with enough building projects to know when he was dealing with someone who had no clue about what went into such work.
Playing the role of a man didn’t appear to come naturally to the foreman. He walked with his legs too close together as if unaware of how such a stride would impact what was inside the slacks. Once in the elevator, the man avoided touching any of the dust-coated surfaces. You played the role better as an upscale businesswoman. Even in a suit, someone in charge of construction would project an air of command. Fearing getting dirty wouldn’t earn you any points with your crew.
Colin followed the foreman into the sun-drenched penthouse. The concrete floors had been scoured, stained, and sealed. The brick sidewalls and large industrial windows completed the look of the warehouse. Inside the grand space, sheetrock walls softened the feel of the condo.
“I’ll have a list of changes for you before I leave. Have it completed by the end of the week. The bedroom will do for now. You can expect a delivery of furniture by the end of the day.”
Having found a place to lay his head that would be out of the elements—and even better, free from the constant reminders of the staged play of life—he headed to the river for a little contemplation. Talking out loud had its uses when he wanted something from the universe, but keeping the words inside his head carried with it the secrecy he needed to construct his plans.
The likelihood that I am still in some make-believe existence grows by the day. But I need to be careful not to let whoever’s watching know of my suspicion. Since chasing Kendell got me out of the swamp witch’s version of hell, I have to conclude that this place is that sexy guitarist’s doing. I have to hand it to her—she really had me going. The responses I’ve been getting to my random encounters, however, don’t sound like her. She was never that good at hiding her true identity. So someone else, likely a woman, is guarding my domain. I have to assume nothing I see is real, at least not at a distance. No matter what reality they dump me into, I’m still the devil.
* * *
Sanguine had grown tired of mentally chasing Colin around New Orleans. Her network of animal spies—from mosquitoes to gators—kept her well-informed of his location, but it was still up to her to commandeer the closest voodoo puppet person in order hear what he had to say and keep him entertained.
Talking with Kendell at the seventh gate inside Delphine de Galpion’s Scratch and Sniff perfumery provided one of the few welcome breaks in Sanguine’s day. “I hadn’t meant to provide him such a comfortable place to stay,” Sanguine said, “but outside in that damn park, he was running me ragged. I really thought he’d have gone for that old mansion. Too bad. It would have been fun haunting his nights.”
After nearly a month back among the living, Kendell had lost the dark circles under her eyes. Her hair had regained the shimmery black punk-grunge styling that was meant to give her a hard edge but lacked the authenticity of the greasy-sweaty look she’d developed while in hell. “You know you could always come home. Just say the word, and I’ll have Myles sneak through Guinee to open the door for you.”
The escape plan was looking more inviting by the day. “It’s not time yet. If he suspects what we’re up to, he’s proving awfully cagey about making a move against us.”
“We did hear him say he realized he was in hell. Do you think he meant it, or was that just idle speculation on his part?”
Sanguine wasn’t sure what to think. “He made the statement after leaving his office for the last time. He’s been a little unfocused about what he wants to do. Maybe the words ‘still in hell’ referred more to him being lost for a direction to his life. With Colin, anything’s possible.”
“All the more reason for you to take a break. We can watch him from this side of the seven gates.”
Having Kendell be so pushy about leaving actually helped Sanguine dig into her position. “Can’t do it. Even though we’ve upgraded his prison cell, once he figures out the game, I’m afraid we’ll be once again trying to contain him, like trying to hold back a hurricane with a mop. The longer he thinks he’s actually busted through to life, the easier it will be to control him after he figures out the truth. Besides, I can only eavesdrop on what he’s saying if I’m occupying someone within earshot. And I can’t do that if I don’t have access to these cardboard-cutout people.”
“Still no luck teaching your insect friends to understand English?”
The little buggers had had an easier time teaching Sanguine how to see the future. “Their ears don’t work like ours. I swear, you’d think whoever designed insects was working in a different laboratory from the team focusing on all the other animals on Earth. Nothing about those little creatures matches up with how I use my senses.”
“Speaking of which, what do you see?”
Sanguine rubbed her eyes. As if normal human vision wasn’t tiring enough. “Peering through the glass marbles in those mannequins’ heads has severe limitations.” She spread her white ten-foot-wide angel wings. “And flying around after Colin with these would tip our hand. He is giving me a migraine with his self-doubt. If he’d just pick a direction for his
life, I could figure out what he’s up to. I swear, it’s like he’s taunting me with his indecision.”
“So you think he’s intentionally keeping us off guard?” Kendell’s questions sounded too much like the voodoo-doll people that inhabited the virtual-reality hell.
“Probably, knowing Colin. How are things going on your side of the wall between the living and the damned?”
“About like you’d expect.” From the way Kendell avoided eye contact, it was clear she felt bad about enjoying life. “Myles and I take Doughnut Hole and Cheesecake for walks each morning. Sometimes we stop at the café on Frenchmen for coffee and muffins. Most of the day, we’re busy getting the Scratchy Dog ready for the night’s activities. When the band doesn’t have a gig, Polly drags me to as many clubs as she can to check out potential groups for our free slots. Running a bar and music venue while still performing with the band isn’t as easy as it seems.”
“Sounds boring.”
“Well, the position of hell’s avenging angel was already taken.”
Sanguine wasn’t in the mood for levity. “Any news from Myles’s overlords?”
“Don’t call them that.” Kendell’s sneer let Sanguine know she’d hit a nerve. “The voodoo loas of the dead were only trying to help. If it hadn’t been for the gift of Baron Samedi’s cane, we’d all be in a lot of trouble right now. I’m just glad Myles figured out how to use it to travel between dimensions.”
“Fair enough, but I still believe they didn’t give him their powers without some ulterior motive.”
Kendell nodded. “I suspect you’re right. This is why I miss you so much. You’re one of the only people I can admit that to without causing a fight. I still set a place for you at dinner each night.”
Sanguine could practically taste Kendell’s crawfish étouffée. “You’re a little temptress. Do you know that?”
“So I’ve been told, and by the devil himself. The band is playing a gig tonight, so we can keep an eye on Colin. You should take the night off.”
“You think all five of you can cover for me?” The idea made her nervous. It wasn’t in Sanguine’s nature to hand off a responsibility to others.
“Myles will be tending bar, so technically, it’ll be six of us standing guard at two of the gates to hell. Since we can each occupy our voodoo double, that’s a lot of cardboard people for us to take over should we need to.”
“And if he steps outside? You can only take over the mirror images of yourselves. Since you guys will be busy onstage, in both realities, you’ll be like babysitters making out on the couch when you’re supposed to be watching your charge.”
“Even if he does leave the club, what’s he going to do? Luther once again has full control of the World Trade Center. Without his little toys, Colin is just a dude wandering the city. It’s not like he could kill anyone or punch a hole in dimensions.”
Kendell’s dismissive language showed once again how she never understood how dangerous their adversary could be.
“That’s what you said after we built the seven gates,” Sanguine said. “Look how that turned out.”
* * *
After her conversation with Sanguine, Kendell rushed home to snuggle against Myles on their couch with Cheesecake next to her and Doughnut Hole curled up on a pillow. Between spending the day readying the club for business and playing the late-night gig, she never had enough hours left for family time.
“How’s she doing?” Myles asked.
Kendell often had to recount her talks with Sanguine to multiple people, but at least Myles didn’t offer unhelpful advice. “She’s tired. I had to mention her coming home before she started getting snarky. This plan of hers is never going to last six months.”
“Are you afraid we’re going to have to launch another rescue attempt?”
Kendell scratched Cheesecake’s ear to calm the old girl down. Just the mention of her mistress returning to hell made the dog tense. “I can’t see how it would do much good. She has full run of the place now. Every person we’re projecting and every animal her grandmother created is under Sanguine’s control. I doubt I’d even be able to step through the gate from Guinee before she’d bombard me with mosquitoes to drive me out of her realm.”
“You do have a hatred for those little bloodsuckers. She would probably modify them to look like miniature vampires just to freak you out.” He stuck his front teeth over his lower lip and flapped his hands.
“That’s not funny.” But Kendell was laughing in spite of herself.
“Just trying to lighten your spirit. Wish I could do the same for Sanguine, but then, she never really got my sense of humor.”
Kendell rested her head against Myles’s shoulder. “She needs a boyfriend like you, but I’m not giving you up.”
“You’re not fooling me. What she wants is you as her girlfriend.”
Kendell turned so she could see his eyes. “Would you give me up if it meant bringing her home?”
There was a nervous tinge to his laugh. “Nope. Sorry. And just for the record, I wouldn’t give you up to Colin either—even if it meant ending him as the devil. This whole reality can go to hell before I let go of you.”
She settled back against his chest. “Hopefully, it won’t come to that.”
He caressed her arms. “You still feel bad about leaving her in charge?”
Her muscles relaxed under his touch. “Colin always finds a way of besting me. Even when I think we’ve won, he just comes back stronger. I fear I’ve become too predictable. Sometimes being a good team captain means knowing when to hand the game off to my best player. Sanguine guards her grandmother’s realm like it’s her mission in life. I can’t compete with that.”
“I thought we were working with Sanguine.”
Kendell loved Sanguine like a sister, but that closeness too often resembled sibling rivalry. “Someday, when this is all over and Colin is no longer a threat, I hope she’ll stop challenging everything I say.”
Myles kissed Kendell on the back of her head. “You’ve been known to have an opinion or two about her plans as well.”
“That’s because she’s reckless. If she didn’t have me to keep her grounded, I don’t know what would happen.”
“You’re still worried she intends to destroy him?” Myles asked.
She wasn’t really worried about that. Sanguine could be difficult to convince, but once she made a promise to Kendell, she kept it.
“I think she understands why that wouldn’t do any good. Though her explanation of different time lines confuses me, at least she has developed her own reasons for sticking to the plan. I’m more concerned about what she intends to do with him now that she’s agreed to let him live.”
* * *
Myles got into his groove of serving drinks at the Scratchy Dog with his longtime bartending buddy, Charlie. Though Myles had been coerced into co-ownership of the club with Kendell, he had no illusions about who really kept the joint running smoothly. They’d be lost without Charlie.
“You expecting any extraordinary visitors tonight?” Charlie asked.
Myles watched Kendell tune her guitar and check the microphone balance onstage. The routine was her way of transitioning from Kendell Summer, voodoo practitioner and guardian of the seventh gate to hell, into Olympia Stain, lead guitarist for Polly Urethane and the Strippers.
“With Kendell’s magical guitar pick in hell and my cane again locked away in my safe, I’m hoping for a quiet night—paranormally speaking.”
“Good, because there’s a sorority convention in town,” Charlie said. “Things are going to get busy fast.”
Even in a sexually open city like New Orleans, the prospect of a large influx of women made Charlie strut around behind the bar like a peacock displaying his feathers. There was a time when Myles would have been filled with the same anticipation.
“You know the drill,” Myles said. “No leaving early, no matter how cute she is.”
“Yes, Boss.”
Tho
ugh Myles enjoyed the nightly banter with Charlie and watching Kendell do what she loved onstage, his connection to hell put him on edge. For the most part, he left his doppelgänger on autopilot in Colin’s world. But somehow Delphine had managed to copy Myles’s more aggressive qualities when she created the voodoo puppet. More than once, he’d had to step into his representation to prevent a fistfight with the devil. That kind of double duty often made him screw up drink orders.
“I may have to step out a few times tonight,” he said. “I’m sharing babysitting duties with Kendell and the band. My usual means of entertaining the brat might get a little challenged.”
“You never were any good at doing two things at once.”
The band had barely finished their first number before the club started filling with drunk, rowdy college girls. And where women congregated, men followed. For each convention, Charlie stocked the bar for differing levels of drink sophistication. With so many college kids in town, every fridge in the club was crammed tight with beer. Though the place got busier as the night wore on, the bartending end of things never got more complicated than popping open another cold one.
In the midst of slinging bottles, Myles sensed his doppelgänger losing control. Like a cell phone that kept vibrating in Myles’s pocket, his double in hell tried not to be intrusive but somehow managed to need help at the worst times. “Cover for me.”
Charlie didn’t even break eye contact with the blonde he was serving. “Don’t take all night.”
Kendell cast Myles a worried look as he snuck around the stage out to the courtyard. All he could do was shrug at her. Until he occupied his voodoo copy, he really had no way of knowing what mischief Colin was up to. To Myles’s surprise, his double was also sitting at the metal table out back instead of slinging voodoo beers with cardboard-cutout Charlie behind the bar in hell.
No sooner had he taken over his hell representation than Colin joined him from the bar. “Thanks for meeting me.”
