Pretty Waiter Girls

by Greg Alldredge

  “My stepfather might be a jackass, but I’m not my stepfather. A real man would know who the enemy is,” she turned to compose herself with Miss Hettie.

  Sigmund followed just far enough to block the door, allowing Helena her space.

  Helena could hear Lane laying into David, but she didn’t care any longer.

  “I hope you feel better Lieutenant, that was real brave, you attacking a teenage girl.”

  “Did you know black soldiers are defecting in the Philippines because...”

  Helena stopped listening, she knew there was no help to be found here, she wanted to grab Lane and Sigmund and try anything else.

  “I must apologize for David, he came back from Cuba a changed man.”

  “No, he’s right, I don’t know who my stepfather is. Who my real parents are. I’m just trying to do what I think is right.”

  “David is too. There is a chance if you get those children out they could be contagious, you could be endangering the whole city.”

  “If you were outside the store and they quarantined it, wouldn’t you try to help the people?”

  Miss Hettie walked over to the cabinets and pulled out a small pouch on a leather cord. “If you have your heart set ongoing to Chinatown. Even though you understand it might mean your death you should wear this under your blouse,” Hettie held it in front of her, waiting for permission to tie it around her neck.

  Helena nodded then asked, “What is it?”

  “This is White magic, called a grigri. It will protect you from evil and black magic.”

  “Will it work?”

  “Tell me next time you visit me.”

  “Only if David isn’t here.”

  “You’ve my open invitation to come see me anytime you want, David will not bother you again, he said his peace.”

  Lane and Sigmund came through the short hallway where the two women were talking. “Let’s go,” Lane said.

  Sigmund continued with more information, “We found a new lead. We’re going to a place called The Iron Clad, meeting a man there who goes by the name of Cade Storm.”

  “No honey you can’t go there, that man’s a Bokor, a sorcerer, a user of black magic. Once you start using black magic, there’s no returning.”

  “Miss Hettie, just like David will do anything to protect this neighborhood, I’m willing to do anything to protect these children.”

  “Mistress Helena, you must be careful making declarations like that, a Bokor will ask you to do things, unnatural things for their help. If you must go to this man, this monster, do not take off your protection. No matter what he says or what he offers, you mustn’t remove that bag.”

  “I promise,” Helena pledged.

  Black Magic:

  The trip to The Iron Clad was a short one. The streets deserted, those that could escape the city had, the others congregated in places of worship or sheltered in their homes. Even the police had abandoned the streets, leaving their posts to protect their loved ones or themselves. The criminal element had not discovered the easy picking of the city, or the fear of plague had chased them off the streets as well. There wasn’t much meat on the carcass of this part of town, but there was always someone who owned less.

  The trio followed Pacific down just before the barricade that cordoned off the Barbary Coast. Helena was surprised the Iron Clad wasn’t included within quarantine zone. The streets deserted, Lane parked the car adjacent the front door, and outside stood two bodyguards wearing goggles and what looked like medieval plague masks. The long beaks of the masks made the two bouncers appeared like gigantic beefy birds. The weapons weren’t visible, but Helena was sure the two men could do a massive amount of damage with their bare hands. Lane reached the door first and pulled out a five-dollar gold coin, flipping it to the one on the right. The man immediately opened the door for the three.

  Helena was surprised to find a party going on inside. The band played a strange kind of music with a syncopated beat she had never come across. She could see all the patrons were black, Helena and her two white escorts stood out like, well, like three white people in a building full of black people.

  Sigmund and Helena hung back while Lane went up and spoke to the bartender. The music was too loud, Helena didn’t have a clue what words were exchanged between the two. She nervously felt her gift from Miss Hettie, feeling stupid she almost took it off but remembered her promise and left it lay between her breasts. The right words must have been spoken by Lane, the bartender called over a bar-back, and before Helena knew it, the trio was led to a broad staircase to the second floor. She inspected the opulence on display in what she ordinarily would consider a low-class dive, even the walls were covered with a red velvet flocked wallpaper, and crystal chandeliers hung over their heads.

  Their escort stopped in front of a double set of doors with frosted glass set in the center. Another two giants dressed like the first two guards out front stood on either side of the door. The drone of music less here Helena listened the guide instruct the three.

  “Only the woman is allowed,”

  Sigmund immediately said, “Over my dead body,” his fists balled ready to battle his way out of the building.

  Helena had already made up her mind to do whatever she needed to do to rescue the children from Chinatown. She rested her hand on Sigmund’s elbow stopping his attack before it happened. “It’s all right Sigmund, I’m sure I’ll be fine.”

  “Mistress I don’t think this is a good idea at all.”

  “I said Sigmund, it will be fine.”

  The escort opened the door, and Helena stepped through the two guards placing their meaty hands on Sigmund when he tried to follow.

  “I know what I’m doing Sigmund, I will be fine,” Helena glanced over her shoulder and said as the doors shut in her face.

  She turned astonished at the amount of gold leaf on display in the office though more aptly might be called a throne room. The strangest thing the room had been divided by yards of heavily draped tulle material giving the far side of the room and otherworldly ethereal feeling. Directly in front of the desk stood the most enormous Asian man Helena had ever seen, his eyes the strangest color of white like an ancient skull she uncovered in her parent’s study.

  “So, you’ve come to ask for a favor, it must be something important to risk coming to talk to Cade Storm,” like Miss Hettie’s accent, Helena could tell this man came from France. His speaking much cleaner and more like her French tutor than Miss Hettie’s.

  Helena took a few steps closer to inspect the sizeable Asian man standing like a great wall in front of the desk. The voice plainly wasn’t coming from him.

  “I’m guessing it has something to do with the quarantine that the lovely Committee of Vigilance slapped on part of the town.”

  “You seem to know so much why don’t you go on?” Helena stepped two paces closer when the bulky man let out the guttural growl of a feral beast.

  “Don’t get too close, Ho Man has been known to bite, he seems to be developing a taste for human flesh.”

  Helena moved close enough to understand that the man’s face wasn’t acutely pockmarked but looked like it had been recently chewed upon by some sort of worm. His eyes weren’t rolled back in his head, his irises where a shade of a fish belly, with the whites bloodshot, she had to look away to keep from vomiting.

  “What is he?”

  “He is what we in the trade would call a zombi.” Cade laughed before continuing.

  “My word girl you do reek of the stench of control flowing from your body.”

  Helena couldn’t help but sniff her right armpit before asking, “I beg your pardon?”

  “Either you or someone close to you has some serious magic thrown on them. They’re being controlled, not unlike my friend Ho Man in front of you.”

  “I’m afraid you’re mistaken no one I know looks like this,” Helena motioned to Ho Man, even though no one could see.

 
“You’re mistaken, a person doesn’t need to be a zombi to be under another’s control. Look at yourself, you think your life is yours to control, I would be willing to bet that if you searched deep enough, you would find you control nothing in your life. Down to something as simple as what you ate for breakfast this morning it was someone else’s decision for you.”

  “You say that like you know me, you know nothing about me.”

  “I understand life is a matter of control, from the employee who does what his boss says to collect a paycheck, to the churchgoer who does what his priest says, so they can find a happy afterlife. Look at everyone around you, husbands, wives, soldiers, sailors, everyone’s being controlled by someone else. Very few people are truly free.”

  “And who controls you?”

  “Someone who thinks they can match wits with the great Storm. You think you control yourself the door is behind you.”

  “You know I can’t do that, you haven’t even asked me what I want, or why am here.”

  “It doesn’t matter. I assume that you appreciate my reputation I also assume you were warned about coming here. That means that you’re desperate enough to risk what happened to Ho Man. That means you will do anything. Take my warning or not, that is up to you, but someone is controlling you, or someone close to you with some impressive magic, the fetid stench of it is surrounding you. That information I give to you for free.”

  “Is there a point to this--” she’s cut off before she can finish.

  “If you want my help it will cost you, in Ho Man’s right coat pocket you will find a mask take it out and cover your eyes with it. If you don’t wish to do it simply turn around and leave, I’ve better things to do.”

  Helena hesitated for a moment, but she meant what she said she was willing to do anything to save the children. She acquiesced and covered her eyes with the black velvet mask. After covering her eyes, she stood there, and an extreme feeling of vulnerability and goosebumps flowed over her, she covered herself as best she could with her arms even though fully clothed.

  The voice began from behind her, “You see, I understand enough about you, and we’ve never met. You’re desperate,” she tracked the voice as it moved around her, stalked her like prey, “You want my help, tell me what can Cade Storm can do for you?”

  Helena found his voice alluring. There was something about the danger, the thrill of the unknown, not knowing what might happen next, how much he would demand as payment, “There is a Chinese Girl’s School, and the students are trapped behind the plague barricade--”

  “And you want me to rescue these girls, correct?”

  “Yes, I want you to do that if you can, if you’re dominant enough.”

  “You notice those cowards couldn’t find the courage to go up against the San Francisco strongest Bokor. Getting those children will be child’s play but the price, what should I charge you for my help?”

  Helena braced herself, she was willing to pay any amount of money to rescue the children.

  “The price for my help...” The bastard paused making her sweat. “Your virginity. Right here bent over my desk,” Helena cringed as she listened to his demands and could feel his breath on her neck below her right ear. She clenched her hands, Miss Hettie warned her the price would be high.

  “And if I refuse?”

  “At first, I was going to simply throw you out of my office. However, if you refuse now, I will use my power to send the plague straight to the school. If you’re lucky, I won’t cast a spell on you turning you into a zombi, like Ho Man here, and sell you to The Nymphia for a five-dollar gold coin.”

  Before she knew what, she was doing, her mouth said, “I’ll do it, just save the children.”

  “I knew you would when you walked in here,” she winced when his lips touched her neck. His beard scratched her, but when she felt his hand reach into her blouse, she couldn’t take it any longer, her resolve not as stout as she thought it would be. In a furry she gave her walking stick a quarter twist, releasing her mother’s blade. Concurrently she felt the man who had been groping her stiffen with a jolt, his hand contorted, fingers bent back into impossible directions.

  She swung around, mask off, sword drawn, she aimed a wounding blow, not a fatal strike, lancing Cade dangerously close to his Achilles Tendon with the tip. Helena crouched in a street fighting position left hand ready to parry if needed, right with the needle-sharp blade shoulder height prepared to lunge at any target that presented itself.

  Her preparation wasn’t needed, expecting to find a formidable black man ready to attack, she saw a man not much taller than her five-foot-two-inch frame laying on the ground. His pasty face framed with a black shock of hair and a shaggy beard, hiding his pit scared cheeks. Body contorted into impossible positions, his face covered with a look of horror, mouth disfigured in a silent scream. That’s when she noticed the burnt flesh smell rising from the small bag held around her neck by a leather cord and a warm glow next to her heart.

  Helena didn’t know what to do, she desperately wanted to run him through with her mother’s sword. What a horrible week! She shook her head; how could she ever be willing to give her body to this insect? She leaned over Cade threatening him with a sword, she saw the terror in his eyes, but he was unable to even try to scoot away.

  Mocking him she began to speak, “You’re the great and powerful Bokor everyone is afraid of?”

  The best Cade could do was nod his head in agreement, snot bubbles forming, spittle running out of his twisted mouth dripping onto his Persian rug.

  “Is there any way you could’ve helped get those children out of Chinatown?”

  Cade tried to aggressively shake his head no, best he got was a little wiggle the muscles in his neck straining into tight chords at that attempt.

  “You were going rape me, and there was nothing you can do to help me?” to motivate his answer, Helena took the willowy point of the sword and rested it on his groin. Cade had no way of knowing her sword was made for thrusting, not for cutting. However, no man would want to find that portion of his body perforated by a sword.

  Cade again shook his head in fear trying to force his body to escape the steel resting next to his manly bits.

  “You disgust me,” she then tapped three times with the tip of her blade and pressed the tip through his pants and penetrating through his penis.

  Cade tried to scream, but his body was still locked in the unnatural bends and twists. Helena coldly wiped his blood from her sword on his leg, she could see a patch of blood growing from the hole she left in his trousers. Satisfied she engaged the handle with the scabbard while walking towards the double doors.

  Helena whipped open the doors, quickly closing them behind her before the guards could turn and see, their peripheral vision blocked by their goggles. Lane and Sigmund stood at parade rest across the balcony the rail between them and the entryway below.

  “Time to leave, gentleman, that man will give us no help. We need to find the source of the problem,” reminiscent of a big game hunter she strutted down the stairs chin up shoulders back chest out in charge of her own destiny, or at least she thought.

  Some of Cade Storm’s words still echoed in the back of her mind. Was she being controlled by someone else? Was she a pawn in someone’s chess game, the bay area the game board? Those prospects didn’t sit well with her at all. Right now, whether or not someone controlled her, her only concern was to rescue those children. She found herself more determined than she’d ever been before.

  “Lane, Sigmund, we are going to the Pioneer Monument. I need to speak with James Phelan, he started all this.”

  Committee of Vigilance:

  Helena was tired. She was tired of feeling controlled by adults, especially men. She was tired of not knowing her past, or her future, and she was extremely tired of not being able to find Missy or rescue the girls from Chinatown. In her mind, there was one group responsible for the quarantine, The Committee of Vigi
lance, and she knew where they were meeting right now, the Pioneer Monument next to city hall.

  Glowing gas lights flashed by as Lane pointed Bessie down Market street, traffic was thin and all heading in the same direction, towards City Hall. The farther away from Chinatown, the more movement could be observed. Helena wasn’t sure how she would meet the leader of The Committee of Vigilance, but she found herself determined to find James Phelan and get him to lift the barricades.

  For their safety and the protection of the people on the streets, Lane pulled off Market Street and crept along closer to the center square. He finally gave up, the roads basically too crowded. The surrounding city streets crowded wall to wall with a mass of white faces flowing towards the gathering. Helena noted those around her had a distinct lower-class feel about them. She couldn’t find anyone that looked like they were part of her community.

  As much as Helena wanted to reach where the speakers shouted, it was impossible. Best she could do was stand on the steps of a City Hall looking across the courtyard at the Pioneer Monument. The torch and gas light gave everyone’s face an angry orange glow, hiding their eyes in pools of shadow, turning them all into shadows of the humanity they claimed to be.

  She came to the sudden realization that this may not have been the best idea in the world. Looking across the park and seeing five figures dressed in white robes and pointed hoods standing next to the speakers perched on and around statues.

  “Is that the Clan? The Clan is in San Francisco?” Helena asked.

  “The Clan is everywhere, some places they’re simply more visible than others,” Sigmund answered.

  “I’ve a feeling this isn’t going to end well,” Lane added.

  Helena found herself too far away to hear everything clearly; the speakers shouted, but their message was cut into bits and pieces as it sliced over the audience heads. She heard sentences like, “We will call for passage of the Exclusion Act,” which was met with cheers of, “deport them all!” echoing around the crowd.