Rotted meat rubbed with sugar crystals, strung on fishing line. And I’d bet large sums of money that the lines up to those trees were attached to air-powered javelins.
Another favorite Valentine trap. And we were headed straight for it.
“Stop the boat!” I blurted. “You have to stop. Now.”
Denei stirred from her slump, and next to her, Reun looked up sharply. “What is wrong?” he said.
“We’re about to hit a trap.” I gestured frantically ahead and looked at T-Sam. “It’s right across that throat, there. Look—”
“Cain’t stop,” he rumbled. Without looking.
“Jesus, why not? You have to.”
“Load’s too heavy,” Aubin said as he lifted the pole from the water and plunged it back in. “Momentum, y’know. ’Sides, ain’t no trap can snag this boat.”
“This one can.” I started looking for something heavy to throw, to maybe trigger the thing before we reached it, as Bastien, Isalie and Zoba finally took notice of the commotion. “Trust me. It’ll splinter your hull,” I said. “Or kill someone.”
“The hell kinda trap you think you see?” Bastien almost sounded accusatory.
“It’s—”
I broke off with a frustrated groan. Christ, I was an idiot. Why was I trying to throw some random object I had no hope of hitting anything with, when I had magic? The moon had been up for an hour now.
I stalked to the side of the boat, leaned over and gestured at the nearly invisible rig. The word I needed flowed right to my tongue—probably a lingering effect of our side trip to Arcadia. “Thrucíar.”
There was a series of quick snaps, and a rustling whistle as the taut fishing line snapped and sprang off in every direction. Then two loud, hissing pops. Silver streaks whined across the opening, crossing each other’s paths as the javelins plunged harmlessly into the swamp ten feet in front of us.
I ignored the collective gasp and the murmurs that followed. Didn’t even say I told you so. I was too busy silently freaking out because of the existence of that thing, in this place, at this time. With fresh bait.
Once again, T-Sam turned slowly to look at me. He raised one eyebrow. “Smart,” he said. “For a white boy.”
Then he faced forward again like nothing had happened.
I wasn’t sure if that was a compliment or an insult. Either way, it didn’t comfort me that we’d narrowly escaped being skewered.
That trap was pure Valentine. No question about it.
So maybe they really were around here somewhere.
CHAPTER 22
Our destination turned out to be a place called Baptiste Landau—a swamp shanty town that was little more than a strip of land along an unnamed tributary with a single row of stilt houses, bordered along the back by a thick cypress forest and endless swamp.
For the Duchenes, it was home.
A small crowd of people had been waiting at the dock where T-Sam and Aubin pulled up to moor the boat. More cousins. A bunch of them carried Rex and Senobia’s bodies into the house, a sprawling single-story A-frame with splintery wood siding, three or four cobbled extensions and added rooms, and a long, screened front porch. There was a wooden sign next to the porch door with a picture of a snapping alligator, and words beneath it: I Love Tourists They Taste Great.
At least the place had personality.
The cousins had wandered off not long after our arrival, and the bunch of us sat listlessly on the porch, surrounded by a chorus of insects and swamp calls and the occasional harsh buzz of the bug zappers hung at the corners. I’d decided not to elaborate on my suspicion that the Valentines had set the traps. If they were in the area, they could be anywhere, and we’d traveled another hour after the javelin trap. That was the last one I’d seen.
The odds of actually making contact with them out here, in this metric ton of swampland, were slim to none even if they were around. And I sure as hell wasn’t going to go looking to find out.
“So, is this your house?” I said eventually.
Bastien was the only one who seemed to hear me. “Naw. This T-Sam’s place,” he said.
Well, that explained the alligator sign. T-Sam definitely seemed anti-outsiders. “Is he coming back?”
“Not tonight.”
“We got a long day tomorrow,” Denei said abruptly, in apparent response to nothing. “Folks’ll come here for the viewing, and then the cemetery in the evening.”
I hadn’t even considered how strange this whole thing was. After years of working as a body mover, I was more familiar with the after-death process than anyone—the police, the hospital, the morgue, the funeral home. None of those things had been mentioned once. “You’re not having them…I mean, not even coffins?” I said.
Denei gave me a dark look. “We take care of our own around here.”
“All right.” I did understand not wanting to involve the police. I mean, what were they going to say—a voodoo god killed them by ripping centipedes out of their backs? Even if they believed it, the cops couldn’t do anything. So we’d have to. “What about Legba?”
“What about him?”
Her words were heavy with warning. And she was probably right—this wasn’t the best time to talk about it. I’d just drop it for now.
But Bastien had other ideas.
“What you mean, ‘what about him’?” he snapped. “He murdered the young’uns. So what we gonna do about it?”
Denei stared at him. “Nothing.”
“Nothing?”
Isalie shivered and touched his arm. “Bastien…” she whispered.
“No!” He jerked away from her and stood. His eyes burned with fury. “We ain’t doin’ nothing,” he growled. “I’ll tear that sumbitch apart myself.”
“We do nothing!” Denei got up too. “We lost too much already. There’s no way I’m gonna give that snake a reason to take anyone else. Leave it be.”
“I won’t—”
“You will!”
Isalie let out a choked sob and pushed past her brother to stumble into the house. After treating Denei to a searing stare, Bastien went after her.
Denei stood rigid for a moment. Then her shoulders slumped, and she crossed her arms protectively in front of her. “We all best try to get some sleep,” she said without an ounce of conviction. “Tomorrow…”
She bowed her head and went slowly inside. Then Reun got up and followed her, stopping to clasp my shoulder in wordless apology on the way.
I wondered if he was thinking what I was—that if we didn’t finish this fight with Legba, at least one more person was going to die. The one who was bound by a promise to free the Duchenes from him.
The mark of it had already started to burn in my chest.
Zoba hadn’t moved from his perch on a wooden crate at the far corner of the porch. He sat staring through the screen at the dark river beyond, but I had a feeling he wasn’t seeing much of anything right now.
I felt unspeakably guilty for not stopping Legba, despite doing everything I could. But the bastard had said he’d only planned to take Zoba, and then changed his mind when he tried to attack him. Basically, that it was Zoba’s fault he’d killed the little ones.
There weren’t even words for what he must’ve been feeling.
I walked toward him with no idea what I’d say. Even if I did talk to him, he couldn’t participate in the conversation. It had to be so hard for him—Denei was the only person in the world he could really communicate with. But it was clear that he loved all of his siblings.
At least he didn’t have to tell me that he would’ve gladly died in Rex and Senobia’s place. I knew that even without the vision he’d shown me.
“Hey,” I said as I stopped beside him. He didn’t look at me, and I didn’t expect him to.
And I couldn’t think of a single word to say beyond that initial hey.
I stood there another minute, trying to come up with something. Even if it was just to say goodnight and excuse myself. Before I could
stammer some lame platitude, I felt a tug in my head. The sensation I always had at the start of every conversation with the dead.
But I wasn’t trying to talk to any dead people right now.
Gideon.
The voice in my head was painfully familiar. My heart stopped beating. “Senobia?”
Yeah, cher. It’s me.
Zoba looked up sharply and growled. I got that message loud and clear.
“Whoa. Just…calm down a minute,” I said. This had happened to me once before, when I didn’t know I was the DeathSpeaker. The first dead person I ever talked to had initiated the conversation himself. Because he was pissed, and he really wanted to let me know it.
Nyantha said that the barrier between the land of the living and the world of the dead existed all around us, and that souls could cross on their own if they wanted it badly enough. And she’d told me I was a conduit between those worlds.
Obviously, it worked both ways.
You there?
“Yeah. I’m here.” I held a hand out as Zoba stood with a menacing scowl. “I’m the DeathSpeaker, remember?” I said to him. “She contacted me.”
His features relaxed into shock.
Told ya we’d haunt your ass. I could hear the smile in her voice, and I didn’t even mind the pain of hearing her speak.
“Yes, you did say something like that,” I said. “Is Rex…with you?”
He’s right here, keepin’ watch. The tone of her voice darkened. Ain’t got long. He cain’t find out we talkin’ to you.
So Legba was keeping an eye on them, even in death. The idea horrified me.
They still weren’t free.
Zoba made an urgent sound, and I knew what he wanted. “I’ll tell you everything when she’s done,” I said. “Promise.”
He seemed to accept that reluctantly.
Listen, I need you to pass a message to Zoba, she said. Tell him Legba never did plan to collect him. He was always gonna take me and Rex, right from the start.
Startled heat pricked my eyes, and I hated the bastard more than ever. “All right,” I said. “I’ll tell him.”
Thanks, cher. And for all you done, for our family. You an honorary Duchene now.
“Yeah, I haven’t done anything yet. But I’m going to.” My throat tried to close on me. I clenched my fists until the nails dug in. “You two aren’t spending the rest of eternity attached to that monster. I’m still going to free you.”
A soft sob echoed in my head. You really think you can?
“I will,” I said. “I’ll find a way.”
After a long pause, Senobia said slowly, Might be we can help you out. I think— She broke off with a quick, indrawn breath. Gotta go. Back when I can.
I felt her presence vanish, and most of the pain along with it. But I had plenty of my own left. And Zoba was looking at me expectantly, with a mixture of hope and misery.
So I gave him the message.
He stared at me. A fat tear welled in his eye and streaked down his tattooed cheek. He made a low, heartbreaking sound, and then threw his arms around me.
I hugged him back. “We’re getting them out of there,” I said. “And somehow, we’re going to put that son of a bitch out of commission for good.”
The chilling noise Zoba made said he agreed.
CHAPTER 23
As small as this village was, it seemed a lot bigger when every single person who lived in it was packed into T-Sam’s house.
The viewing had started at noon. Hours later, the crowd that turned up almost immediately showed no sign of dispersing. They filled the house, the porch, the small strip of front yard and the dock. A bunch of them had gathered on the keelboat. The mood was surprisingly animated, almost boisterous—except when Reun or I got anywhere near a group. Then they were subdued and mistrustful.
I knew it was nothing personal. We just weren’t from their world.
I’d already paid my respects to Senobia and Rex. Their bodies had been washed, dressed in white, and laid out on a wooden table in the main room of the house. They’d been placed side by side on a bed of dried reed grasses, surrounded by a circle of alternating pink and white water lilies. Their hands were linked together. His right with her left. And their expressions were peaceful, even though their deaths were anything but.
It hurt to look at them.
I made my way through the house and out the back door, where there weren’t so many strangers. The only occupants of the open back yard were three kids, ranging in age from five or six to about ten, and Reun.
When I came out, the kids stared at me for a minute, and then filed silently into the house after I cleared the door.
Reun was sitting on a stone bench facing the swamp. He looked back in time to see the last of the kids vanish, and gave a slight smile. “You’ve frightened the children,” he said.
“What can I say? It’s a gift.” I crossed the shaggy patch of grass and took a seat next to him. “So…this sucks.”
His brow lifted. “An interesting way to phrase it.”
“Yeah, well I’m kind of at a loss for words.”
“As am I.” He looked out over the trees and weed-clogged water. “If we do not stop Legba, your promise may kill you,” he said quietly.
So he was thinking about that. “Well, we’re going to,” I said. “At least I am, and whoever else is with me.”
Reun frowned. “Denei cares for you,” he said. “She’d not—”
“This isn’t about me, now. It’s about them. Rex and Senobia.” I dropped my gaze to the ground. “He still has their souls, and I’m not letting him keep them.”
“I share your concern.” He waited until I looked up. “But I am not certain he can be stopped.”
There it was. The huge, glaring problem I didn’t want to think about. Taeral had warned me. I remembered brushing off his claims, thinking this guy couldn’t possibly be as downright evil as he thought. But he was right. Nothing we’d done had even slowed him down on his way to casually slaughtering a pair of innocent kids. Legba was a true monster.
And I wasn’t sure I’d live long enough to hear Taeral say I told you so.
I was about to mention my encounter with Senobia last night and how she’d said that her and Rex might be able to help, when I realized something was wrong. It took a minute to figure it out. “Reun,” I said. “You hear that?”
He cocked his head a bit. “I hear nothing.”
“Yeah. And that’s exactly what we shouldn’t be hearing.” I’d more or less tuned out the ongoing noise and chatter of the big gathering behind us. But now the house, the whole area, was completely silent.
We got up and ran for the back door at the same time.
The silence was courtesy of Legba. The son of a bitch actually had the stone balls to come to the funeral of the people he’d slaughtered.
He stood at the foot of the table in the main room, looking at the bodies with an air of smug possession that made me sick. The remaining four Duchenes were the only ones anywhere near him—everyone else had pressed back along the edges of the room or crowded into the small kitchen where the back door led into. They were all terrified of him.
He hadn’t seen Reun or me yet. He was too busy gloating.
Denei took a step toward him, holding the others back with a warning gesture. “Why are you here?” she said roughly. “Ain’t you hurt us enough already?”
Legba gave her an indulgent smile, and I wanted to rip it off his face. “I have simply come to pay my respects to my children.”
“They ain’t yours. They never were.” Denei’s throat worked. “They mine. Ours. Our babies.” She shivered visibly, and whispered, “How could you? You…you monster.”
His face darkened. “Watch your tongue, child, or lose it as your brother lost his.”
I bristled and started pushing through the crowd. Unstoppable tyrant or not, I had a word or two for that bastard.
Gideon. Hold up, hoss.
This time the voice in m
y head was Rex. “Hey, kid,” I said under my breath. “Glad to hear from you. But now might not be the time—”
You need to listen.
I stopped. “All right. I’m listening.”
You done scared him. Back at Boko, near the end there, Rex said. He thought you was Samedi.
Christ. I remembered him looking startled, whispering that word. But I still had no idea what it meant. “Who’s Samedi?”
A few people near me shot narrow-eyed looks. I ignored them.
Baron Samedi. The god of the dead.
“Why the hell would he think that?”
On account of you callin’ his souls. They ain’t supposed to answer to anybody ’cept him. Plus, you changed how you look. I sensed, rather than heard Rex laugh. You was all got up like a walkin’ corpse. Gave Legba quite a nasty turn, you.
“What…” I started to say. Then I remembered Reun telling me that I’d lost my glamour. I’d only seen my true form once, in a mirror. And I did kind of look like a corpse. “Um. One problem,” I muttered. “I’m not actually this baron guy.”
Don’t matter, hoss. You ain’t gotta be Samedi. He scared ’cause he don’t know what you are, and you done something to him. Nobody ever touched him ’fore now. So jes’ be you, only bigger. DeathSpeaker yo’self all over his ass. He paused for a few seconds. Voodoo’s all about belief. You make him believe in what you are, and you got the power over him.
It sounded so simple, I almost didn’t believe it myself. But I’d try anything at this point. “All right,” I said. “I guess I’ll be the DeathSpeaker, then.”
You’d best do more than guess. You get the power, you take him down. And we all go free.
The pressure left my head. Rex was gone.
I drew a bracing breath and focused on what was happening outside my head. The mute crowd, the Duchenes in the main room with Legba rubbing his power in their faces. Pouring salt in the wounds he’d opened—just because he could.
I dropped my glamour.
Tight packed as it was, the crowd around me parted almost instantly. So Legba wasn’t the only one who was afraid of my glamourless self. I headed for the main room, trying to appear more confident than I felt.
Return of the Hunters (The DeathSpeaker Codex Book 4) Page 9
