Crossroads

by Wendy Saunders

  Charles nodded in thanks as he turned and headed up, closely followed by Davis. The first floor was set up in a similar way to the lower, with another large angular bar sat at the center of the room surrounded by bar stools.

  ‘Julien?’ Charles leaned over the bar and asked another bartender.

  He pointed to the left, to an archway that led into a smaller cozier room with a pool table in the center and uniformed sofas stretching around the edges of the room. They both headed into the dimly lit room which seemed somehow more muted, intimate even. Several people congregated around the edges on the sofas, in pairs or small groups, talking in hushed tones. Two slightly older men played pool while a third stood and watched.

  ‘Excuse me,’ Charles interrupted the man standing and watching. ‘Julien?’

  He nodded towards the corner sofa where a young man in his thirties was sipping a tall cocktail. He had a slim elegant build and silky ash blonde hair which fell to his shoulders in smooth waves. He wore black tailored slacks with a smoky grey shirt, open slightly at the collar. He watched them as they approached slowly, his pale watery blue eyes unreadable.

  ‘Julien?’ Charles stopped in front of him.

  ‘Who’s asking?’ he replied, his voice smooth and cultured.

  ‘My name is Charles Connell and this is my brother Davis.’ He held out his hand.

  For a moment Julien simply stared at him curiously, before finally leaning forwards and grasping Charles’s hand with his own slender one. He gripped his hand firmly and pulled him closer, leaning in and inhaling deeply.

  ‘A witch?’ Julien’s eyes sparkled with interest, ‘and a powerful one at that,’ he murmured. He inclined his head towards the sofa, indicating that they should take a seat.

  Charles settled on the sofa next to him turning to face him more fully, while Davis chose to remain standing, hovering protectively over him.

  ‘Now Mr Connell,’ Julien’s mouth curved in amusement as he took a slow sip of his drink, ‘why don’t you tell me what it is you think I can do for you?’

  ‘I understand that you are able to procure certain things from other worlds, for a price.’

  ‘Is that what you heard?’ he smiled, ‘and just what is it you want me to procure for you Mon Cher?’

  ‘I want two souls pulled back from the Otherworld.’

  ‘Souls from the Otherworld?’ his perfectly sculpted brow rose questioningly, ‘I’ll just bet there is a fascinating story to go with that.’

  ‘Can you do it or not?’

  ‘Sorry honey, that’s above my pay grade. Only a Psychopompoi or a God has enough juice to pull a soul back from the Otherworld. Once a body is deceased it cannot be returned to the mortal world. Unless you want to arrange a rebirth into a new body? Now if you’re talking reincarnation a deal can be made, for a price.’

  ‘Not a rebirth and they are not deceased. They’re both still in mortal bodies just trapped on the other side.’

  ‘Now I’m even more curious about the back story,’ he leaned forward in interest, ‘are the bodies intact? If they’ve sustained any damage they cannot be returned.’

  ‘They’re intact’ he replied, ‘as far as I know, but I’m willing to take the risk.’

  ‘Hmm,’ Julien studied him carefully. ‘It can be done, but it’s going to cost you.’

  ‘Name your price.’

  Julien nodded to a slightly stocky man with brown hair, who stood over his shoulder. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper and handed it to Charles.

  ‘A standard fee, not negotiable and non-refundable.’

  Charles looked up at Julien and nodded.

  ‘Excellent Mon Cher,’ he smiled as the stocky brunette lifted a laptop and opened it on the low table in front of them.

  It only took a few moments for him to complete the wire transfer. They waited tensely for a few moments before the guy nodded at Julien in confirmation.

  ‘Well then,’ Julien sipped his drink, ‘what you need is Cora.’

  ‘Who’s Cora?’ Davis spoke up behind Charles.

  ‘An associate of mine,’ he replied smoothly. ‘If anyone can bring your friends back from the Otherworld it’s her.’

  ‘So you can’t actually do it yourself?’ Davis frowned.

  ‘I like to outsource whenever possible,’ he turned to the guy standing next to him. ‘Shane, be so good as to have the car brought around, would you?’

  He nodded and disappeared as Julien stood and lifted his suit jacket from the back of the sofa. Slipping it on, he straightened his sleeves revealing delicate golden cuff links, each in the shape of a tiny doorway. ‘Shall we gentlemen?’

  ‘Where are we going?’ Davis asked.

  ‘To see Cora of course,’ he replied in amusement, ‘although I should warn you, she has a price of her own… and she doesn’t deal in money.’

  ‘We have to pay her too?’ Davis replied indignantly, ‘after what we’ve just paid you?’

  ‘Oh Mon Cher,’ Julien laughed in delight, ‘that was just for the introduction. Trust me, pulling two souls from the Otherworld won’t come cheap.’

  ‘It’s fine Davis,’ Charles silenced him, seeing another heated retort hovering on his lips.

  He clamped his mouth shut but his eyes still blazed hotly as they turned to follow the enigmatic Julien back into the main bar and down to the lower level. By the time they stepped out onto the street a dark shiny sedan had pulled up to the curb and the driver stood, holding the door open.

  ‘Thank you Omar,’ Julien breezed past him and climbed in.

  They rode in silence as they headed through the busy French Quarter and out towards the edge of the city. Before long the bustle and noise of the city had given way to the relative tranquility of a balmy Louisiana night. The further into the Bayou they travelled, the more the close night air was filled with the cacophony of bush crickets and grasshoppers, interspersed every now and then by the loud croak of a bull frog. The air hung heavily with the scent of vegetation and algae covered waters.

  Davis’ temperament began to deteriorate as the sweat began to roll ponderously down his collar and somewhere at the back of his neck a mosquito began to nip at him savagely. But Charles sat calmly, unruffled and cool as always, his expression unreadable. He watched out of the window as they passed by Cypress trees and left the main road, turning towards the undergrowth and deep into the heart of the Bayou. After a while the car rolled to a stop and the driver stepped out to hold Julien’s door open for him. They climbed out and followed him down to the water’s edge where a small wooden boat sat. In it was a tall thin man with dark skin.

  ‘Are we going in that?’ Davis replied in disgust as he pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and mopped his brow. His pale almost white hair was now saturated with sweat, clinging to his head and giving him the appearance of a drowned person.

  ‘We are,’ Julien smiled in amusement as he climbed into the boat and sat down, his voice low and smooth. ‘That is of course unless you’d like to stay here and keep the raccoons company Mon Cher.’

  Davis glared at him in annoyance before climbing into the small boat behind Charles. The boatman pushed away from the edge and began to pole through the slow sluggish greenish brown water. He slapped his skin again as he felt a sharp nip at his jaw and tried to draw in a breath, but the air was so close it was like trying to breathe underwater. He heard a small splash in the water next to him and turned to look. Just for a second he saw a long thin shape undulating through the murk.

  ‘I’d keep your hands to yourself Mon Cher,’ Julien told him, ‘the snakes aren’t too friendly.’

  Davis threw him another glare which was lost in the darkness of the swamp. He swatted at the back of his neck with a resounding crack as something bit viciously at him again and with a deep frustrated sigh of resignation settled down into his seat for the most uncomfortable boat ride of his life, with the dubious bonus of Julien’s amused la
ughter ringing in his ears.

  The small boat weaved through the Bayou, meandering slowly between tall stark trees which speared up out of the water to tower over them like spindly giants. The slow sluggish water lapped against the side of the boat, which was bumped every now and then by something large and submerged. Something Davis didn’t want to examine too closely. The night air, whilst hot and thick, was filled with the sounds of life, of Katydids and the skittering Whirligig beetles, and the occasional lone cry of the night heron.

  Finally, they bumped alongside a long thin jetty and stepped out of the cramped boat. Either side of the slim wooden walkway the surface bobbed with lily pads. A small alligator sat, still and watchful on the path in front of them. Julien didn’t even break his stride. It looked up at their approach, regarding them with lazy eyes, before letting out a hiss and sliding back into the water. The walkway ended in a ramshackle building which seemed to be comprised of a mishmash of different styles, as if the builder couldn’t decide on the building he was going for and kept changing his mind. It seemed to be at least two levels, but thin and slightly overhanging the water on long spindly legs that couldn’t possibly sustain the building’s weight. Yet it sat there sturdy as a rock, defying all the laws of nature.

  Julien reached the door. Knocking politely, he waited until the door swung open slowly before stepping through. Davis also followed Charles through the doorway and stopped abruptly. The inside of the building in no way matched the outside. He’d expected a rough wooden cabin but instead he was greeted with a thick deep, blushing pink, shag pile carpet which seemed to him to be absolutely insane. Surely it would add to the heat of the already unbearable Bayou and it was just another place for insects to nest in, but funnily enough nothing seemed to make sense inside the cabin. It was actually cooler than it was outside and as he looked around he noted frilly pink curtains at the windows, framing sparkling clean glass. The walls were decorated with pale cream wallpaper and covered in tiny little pink rosebuds. Over the top of the wallpaper were dozens of delicate china plates mounted on the walls. Each hand painted with pictures of what looked like the English countryside, one was even scattered with a flock of sheep being chased by a sheepdog. A small pink sofa was pushed against one wall and strewn with frilly cushions. Next to it stood a display cabinet which housed dozens of little china figurines, ladies with long swishing skirts and bonnets, kittens and dogs, even a cow being milked. To the other side of the room was a small neat table with matching chairs and each chair was tied with a pink ribbon.

  Davis blinked a couple of times, wondering if he’d inadvertently caught a fever from the mosquito bites and was hallucinating the whole thing, when a small tidy little woman appeared. She looked to be in her sixties with neat white curled hair and a flowery dress with a white cardigan over it, buttoned demurely up to the neck.

  ‘Is she English?’ Davis turned to Julien.

  ‘She’s whatever she wants to be Mon Cher, this is just the flavor of the month,’ he shrugged. ‘When it no longer amuses her, she’ll be something else. Last time I was here she was a four foot Tibetan monk and before that a six foot Lithuanian.’

  ‘Cora,’ he greeted her with open arms, ‘Chére, you look positively darling.’

  ‘Julien, you handsome devil, I was wondering when you’d come back to visit. I was beginning to think you’d forgotten me.’

  ‘Never my love, but this is not a social call. I have brought you some new friends, I know how much you love having visitors.’

  She clapped her hands together in delight. ‘Splendid, why don’t you introduce me and then we can have a spot of tea.’

  ‘Cora, this is Charles Connell and his brother Davis.’

  ‘A witch no less,’ she pursed her lips as she studied him thoughtfully. ‘Why have you brought him here?’

  ‘He wants two souls brought back from the Otherworld.’

  ‘And you told him I could do that? Julien,’ she tutted shaking her head in admonishment. ‘Bad man, teasing him so. You know that isn’t possible.’

  ‘Chére,’ he interrupted, his eyes glittering with mirth. ‘They aren’t dead; they are still wearing their mortal bodies.’

  ‘Really?’ she turned back to Charles studying him with renewed interest. ‘How fascinating… I’ll bet there’s an awfully good story to go with that.’

  ‘That’s what I said,’ Julien replied.

  ‘Well come along and sit down then, I have cucumber sandwiches and a Victoria sponge.’

  ‘I would love to stay Cora darling but I’m afraid I have business elsewhere, so I’ll leave you to come to terms with them.’

  ‘Oh if you must,’ she sighed in a resigned girlish voice, ‘but you make sure you come back and make it up to me.’

  ‘It would be my very great pleasure Chére,’ he grinned and kissed her hand softly.

  ‘You really are a terrible man’ she told him primly, ‘run along then.’

  Julien turned back to Charles and Davis.

  ‘I’ll leave you in Cora’s capable hands then, the boat will be waiting for you when you are ready to return.’

  ‘What about you?’ Davis frowned in confusion, ‘how are you going to get back.’

  ‘Oh sweet, sweet Cher,’ he smiled, ‘I never reveal my secrets.’ He stepped closer and traced a long slender finger against his jaw, ‘you be sure to stop by and see me again, I do so like a challenge.’ He blew him a kiss and with a saucy wink he slipped out of the door, leaving them alone with the strange little woman.

  ‘Sit, sit,’ she ushered them towards the table which curiously now held three place settings of fine china teacups and side plates. In the center of the table sat an elegant long spouted teapot, with matching milk jug and sugar bowl. Next to it was a four tiered china cake stand which held several different varieties of delicate sponge cakes and pastries and beside that a large plate of tiny little sandwiches cut into dainty triangles.

  ‘Now,’ she took a seat and began to pour three cups of tea, ‘who exactly is it you wish to be pulled back from the Otherworld?’

  ‘Her name is Olivia,’ Charles told her as he accepted the tiny little cup of tea she offered him.

  ‘Milk?’ she picked up the small jug and tipped some into his cup. ‘She’s important to you?’

  ‘She’s my daughter,’ he replied.

  ‘One lump or two?’ she picked up the sugar bowl. ‘You said two souls?’

  ‘One please,’ he watched her drop a sugar cube into his cup, ‘the other is a man named Theo. He’s her…’ he cast about trying to find the right word… ‘companion.’

  ‘I take it by companion, you mean lover,’ she smiled in amusement as she handed Davis a cup.

  Charles’ jaw tightened as he picked up the small silver spoon and began to stir his tea, as Cora let loose a silvery peal of laughter.

  ‘We don’t like to think of our children as grown up do we?’ she smiled in amusement. ‘Why don’t you tell me how they came to be trapped on the other side?’

  ‘There was a gateway between worlds which had been left open, we were trying to close it when they inadvertently got pulled through.’

  ‘That’s not the whole story is it?’ she picked up the sandwich plate and offered it to each of them in turn.

  ‘No, it’s not.’

  ‘Well,’ she set the plate down and lifted her own teacup and sipped daintily, ‘it is of course possible to bring them back.’

  ‘But?’

  ‘But it won’t come cheap.’

  ‘Your price?’ he asked bluntly.

  ‘Nothing so trite as money.’

  ‘Then what do you want?’

  She sat for a moment sipping her tea and regarding Charles thoughtfully.

  ‘I’m willing to waive my usual fee, after all you’re not my usual clientele.’

  Charles raised a brow questioningly.

  ‘You’re different,’ she mused tapping her pale pink nails against her
china cup, ‘a powerful witch no less.’

  ‘So what exactly is it you want from me Cora?’ he asked.

  ‘A favor.’

  ‘What’s the favor?’ he asked suspiciously.

  ‘Oh no,’ she smiled softly, ‘it’s not that easy. There’s nothing I want from you…right now.’

  ‘So you want a future favor from me.’

  ‘That’s right,’ she replied, ‘to be redeemed at my pleasure.’

  ‘Alright.’

  ‘Alright?’ her brows raised slightly, ‘that’s it? No Caveat’s? No restrictions? No thou shalt not kill or steal?’

  Charles placed his cup down slowly and deliberately, his penetrating gaze boring into hers as he leaned forwards.

  ‘I don’t think you understand Cora,’ his voice was low and dangerous, ‘I want my daughter back. I don’t care what it costs.’

  ‘Well, we have a deal then,’ her eyes glittered hungrily.

  ‘Yes we do,’ he replied sitting back in his seat once again.

  ‘I’ll need it in writing you understand,’ she added, ‘you know, just in case.’

  ‘Just show me where to sign.’

  Her eyes glanced down to the table in front of him where a document lay rolled out before him alongside an old fashioned ink well and sharpened feather. The parchment the agreement was written on was old and brown with age. The writing itself was strangely archaic with elegant loops and swirls. He scanned through the document checking it was in order, before dipping the nib in the well and signing his name at the bottom.

  She learned forwards trapping his hands with hers before he could roll it up and hand it back. Her gaze hardened.

  ‘Sealed with blood.’

  His gaze held hers as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small penknife. Flicking open the blade he drew a thin line across his palm, his gaze dropping as the blood began to well up from the sliced flesh. Fisting his hand, he allowed several drops to fall to the parchment over his signature, watching as it sizzled like it were fat on a hotplate. Cora glanced down at the document, watching in satisfaction as he rolled it up and handed it to her.