Arcanorum

by C. L. Bevill

  Jane pushed harder. It launched at her, and all she could see was a huge black shape with those eerie shining eyes. The impact drove her backward. She fought frenziedly to keep the metal barrier between it and herself. One hand pushed through the division between the door and the mesh wall. She felt rough fur, and she tried to shove the animal away from her.

  As her hand groped for purpose, sought to find some weakness to exploit, her fingers tangled with something and she yanked. There was a snapping noise and Jane yanked her hand back into the relative security of the cage.

  Immediately the beast stilled. Jane stopped in place, her entire body shaking with dread. She held onto the grate of the door, trembling, wondering what the thing would do next.

  Nothing happened for a long minute.

  The thing sniffed. Moist warmth brushed across her fingers. Its nose was next to her hand as it held the wires of the gate.

  Wetness touched her index finger. It was a nose touching her. Jane’s eyes slid shut. She didn’t know how she would bring herself to move. The fear was devastating, holding in in this spot, kneeling as if a bizarre weight pressed against her from above.

  The nose brushed against her other fingers. Jane wanted to yank her fingers back from the little door, but she simply could not move. Finally, a tongue came out, and the coarse tip ran across her index finger, tasting her, taking her in.

  There was another sound. Jane twitched at it. The sound was dredged from the deepest depths of a tortured soul. It said, “Woo-man.”

  Her eyes came open, and she could only see a great black shape in front of her, blocking out any residual light from the lights left from landings further up in the stairwell. Jane swallowed unevenly.

  Surely I am insane. I hear voices, and I see things that talk in the dark. Maybe I should just march back upstairs and give myself to that doctor. Maybe if I—

  “No-ooo,” the beast wailed.

  Jane jumped. The thing reared back and growled again. A door from above slammed and voices came bouncing down.

  “…Said he saw a tall, skinny woman come this way.”

  “Fine. You go upstairs and I’ll go—”

  The roar came again, and the thing moved restlessly outside the cage door. Its claws sounded on the concrete floor. In the dimness she saw its head slanting upward, listening to the two men several floors above them.

  “What was that?”

  “Sounded like an animal.”

  “Somebody’s dog got loose?”

  “You know the dipshits who come visiting people at the hospital. They bring anything in thinking it’s fine and dandy. Lady brought a goat last month.”

  “But what did they do, leave the poor damn thing in the stairwell?”

  The growl came again, warningly.

  “That doesn’t sound like any dog I’ve ever heard before.”

  “Let’s call animal control.”

  “Yeah, let them handle it. They’ve got the special suits and stuff. Plus cattle prods and shit like that.”

  The thing growled lowly. She saw it move toward her. Its massive head sniffed at her fingers once more. Finally, it turned and trotted to the stairwell’s exit to the breezeway. It pushed at the door, and Jane shuddered in relief. She couldn’t bring herself to shift her head forward to see what it looked like in the light.

  The door slowly shut itself, and the loud clank it made resulted in the two men on the landing above her hesitating.

  “Not going down there. Mama Guidry didn’t raise no stupid children.”

  “You’ve got a 9mm.”

  “So do you.”

  “Only five rounds.”

  “One is generally enough.”

  “Like you’ve shot yours.”

  “At the range. I can kill the hell out of the target with the photograph of the guy with the mullet.”

  “Let’s just call animal control.”

  “Anyone down there?”

  Jane didn’t answer. If they left for a moment, she could flee and hopefully the thing who’d been licking her fingers wouldn’t be waiting for her just outside the door.

  “They must have taken the dog out in the parking garage.”

  “They don’t pay me enough here to go after some freaking huge mastiff with a wicked ‘tude.”

  “Yeah, let’s go back up, and tell Ron he can come down here and look.”

  “Yeah, he’s six-five and weighs three hundred pounds. A dog bite will only irritate him.”

  A door slammed from far above as the two men took the more judicious path. Jane nearly went boneless with relief.

  It took Jane about a minute to make her arms and legs stop shaking. She tried to reason with herself. They’re coming back. So is Raoul as soon as he’s got backup. I can’t stay here. I have to move. However, telling herself the facts didn’t make Jane move faster. She pushed the metal wire wall away from her, and it clattered onto the floor. All the connections that held it in place had been broken.

  Finally, she stumbled to the stairwell door and pushed it open with the rationalization that Raoul wouldn’t expect her to go the same way as he had. Or possibly he would expect the thing to have torn out her guts and left her in a bloody pool in the blackness.

  Probably the latter.

  Jane peered out into an empty breezeway. Yellow pools of light came from the row of neatly arranged black lantern-style streetlights lining the path. To one side was the lawn, cast in darkness from the shadows of the hospital building. To the other was a parking lot. It was half full with various automobiles. Nothing was moving in either direction. The path led across to a huge parking garage with five floors. Beyond that were the lights of businesses.

  Jane could hear the clamor of people going about their evenings. Car motors sounded. A sharp crack of laughter was immediately answered by horse-like giggles. The distant sound of jazz came to her.

  She slipped outside and ran across the breezeway. Jane knew she didn’t have a lot of time. Her imagination wasn’t prompting her when her legs took off in a sprint. She passed through the bottom of the garage, startling a man getting out of a Dodge truck. He grunted as she glided past him and dropped a flower arrangement onto the pavement.

  Jane disregarded him as she ran. She allowed her body to take command. She flew as fast as her legs could take her. She went through a small business district where people were still coming and going. Some of them looked at her curiously but didn’t do anything but watch her as she passed them.

  The sound made by her hammering feet calmed her as she ran. She grew into a rhythm that didn’t stop for ten long minutes.

  Suddenly, Jane was on a cobbled street, and the crowds had started to increase. She made herself walk and looked back over her shoulder.

  There was nothing behind her but other people wandering one of the downtown streets. Noises increased to tremendous levels. Clubs competed with each other to have the best music. Barkers bellowed out how wonderful their place of business was and how much better it was than the other places. Drunken adults staggered happily along.

  It was New Orleans on any given evening. It was the French Quarter. She looked up and saw the infamous street sign. Bourbon was in large white letters. In smaller letters it said Rue Bourbon. The cross street was St. Ann.

  I’ve been here before, she thought. I know this place.

  Jane took a breath as she looked around. She felt something dangling from her hand and lifted it to look. The thing had been wearing it, and as she had groped at it, she had caught it in her fingers. It had broken away in the struggle.

  It was a medallion on a leather thong. The leather thong had snapped, but the medallion had stayed because it was knotted in place.

  Turning it so a streetlight illuminated the little gold pendant, she saw the monstrous, snarling face on it. If the eyes weren’t already gold, they would have been glowing in the darkness.

  Oh dear God, Jane thought. What’s happening?

  Chapter 6

  It is a strange beas
t that has neither head nor tail.

  – English proverb

  Raoul reluctantly let himself into the house on Royal Street. It was a very old house. Once it had belonged to a Vodoun houngan, otherwise known as a Voodoo priest, in the 19th century. The houngan had blessed the Greek revival-style house, and Adrienne Viqc had appreciated the energies that still thrived there. It was one of many reasons she had purchased it.

  The period-authentic furnishings had come with the house and had been purchased from the previous owner. Raoul suspected that the family hadn’t intended that to be the case, but dealing with Adrienne Viqc wasn’t what anyone could expect.

  Raoul stopped in the grand foyer to check out his appearance. The massive gilt-framed mirror on the far side revealed a man who looked as if he had been rode hard and put up wet. He straightened his dress shirt with hands on his collar and brushed off his slacks. He wiped a little bit of dried blood away from his nose that he’d previously missed.

  The clever individual didn’t call on Miz Viqc with a shoddy representation. Raoul might not be the craftiest individual who waded out of the bayou but neither was he stupid.

  At least most of the time.

  Once he’d parked his car two blocks away, he’d changed his shirt and used the old one to wipe the rest of the blood away from his features. He’d used a package of Wet Wipes to remove the evidence of dirt and scratches from his face and arms. The worst of it was his slightly swollen nose with its steady crimson drip.

  That bitch nailed me good. Who thought she still had a little fire in her?

  “Raoul?” Adrienne Viqc called from the living room.

  As if she didn’t know exactly who had just walked inside her house. Her house. Her territory. Those symbols the hoodoo man carved on the molding over a century and a half ago, she added to them, her. She made this her house, and ain’t no man nor woman apt to walk inside lessin’ she wants it so.

  Raoul pursed his lips and checked his reflection once more. Do I look like a man who just got his ass handed to him by an underweight little piece of tchew?

  He considered. And that thing. Mostly that thing. Not that girl.

  “Raoul,” the voice came again. It was no longer a question.

  “Yes, m’dam,” he said. He stepped into the large living room and took a moment to appreciate the antique nature of it, although he was aware he was pushing the envelope. The rooms were painted a golden shade of yellow; it was the exact color of the sun in fall as it set upon a purpling ocean. Vibrant gold and burgundy curtains with commanding half-moon swags hung on the walls, framing the apertures like marvelous paintings. The massive fireplace was surrounded by pristine white woodwork with delicate carvings and sophisticated fretwork. The shelf on top was mottled marble, polished so effectively that it gleamed. An ornate arrangement of flowers in a blue glass vase sat on top. The floor was hardwood with intricate rugs covering it. Two sofas guided the odd visitor toward the center of the room. The sofas were rosewood, and their limbs were carved into a quartet of fantastical animals. Rearing unicorns held up each piece as they strained toward a freedom they would never attain.

  Adrienne Viqc sat on one sofa. Certainly, her appearance was deceptive. She didn’t seem as if she was markedly dangerous. Dressed in a silvery-gray silk suit, she held a petite cup in her hand. There was an iPad in the other hand. She looked at Raoul expectantly.

  He knew the look on his face was less than optimistic but couldn’t help himself. Adrienne Viqc didn’t care for people who made excuses. “Millet missed her at the hospital,” he said. “I caught her in the stairwell but the Roux-Ga-Roux came.”

  Adrienne sipped from her cup. She did not say anything.

  “The girl got away,” he added, wishing for a hole to suck him down. “She ran into the Quarter, and the crowd was too much.”

  “You mean she got away…again,” she said.

  “Yes, m’dam,” he said, barely above a whisper. This wasn’t his first mistake nor was it his second. “I am responsible.”

  Adrienne put the cup back on the saucer which rested on a 19th-century Regency sofa table. She considered her iPad for a moment as if it would present the answers she desired. “Do you believe, Raoul?”

  Raoul didn’t answer. He wasn’t sure what Adrienne was asking of him. Finally, he said, “I believe in our family, m’dam. I believe that I will find the girl and bring her back to you.”

  “Bon,” Adrienne said. “Very, very good. But what I meant was do you believe in the gifts given to us by our creator, the Almighty God?”

  “I’ve seen too many things not to believe that God is very mysterious,” Raoul said, and for the moment, meant wholeheartedly. The Roux-Ga-Roux was such an example, although it wasn’t exactly created by any God Raoul worshiped under.

  “My maman took me to a conja woman when I was five years old,” Adrienne said. Her eyes were dreamy with reminiscence. “This was long before people had the Internet or cell phones or all the information you younger sorts seem to take for granted.” She held up her iPad. “Such ingenious devices to help us in our daily tasks. Imagine some people don’t even need to leave their homes. They call for pizza to be delivered. They do their work there. They never have to step a foot outside again, if they so desire.”

  Raoul kept his mouth shut. He knew when Adrienne was gearing up to a lecture, and this was one of those times.

  “But then, it was different. Much different. People sought out other people. People had to know other folks. My maman was as I am, a sorcière. We are a family of such individuals. This you already know.”

  “Yes, m’dam.”

  “But,” Adrienne said, pushing her finger at Raoul, “this was no ordinary conja woman. She was no healer, no curse-layer. No, she told of the future. She told my maman that I would be a very powerful sorcière, the most powerful in all of Louisiana. I could do what I would. My will would be uppermost. The secrets of the universe would be mine to hold in the palm of my hand.” She held out a delicate hand, palm up to show Raoul that she was serious.

  “The Arcanum arcanorum could be mine,” she added softly so that Raoul had to perk his ears to hear.

  “The Arcanum acranorum,” he repeated. He’d heard the word before. It was Adrienne’s pet cause. It was that which motivated her of late, although she had other reasons to be distracted, the least of which was a woman who had thwarted her.

  “Yes, it’s what all of those with power seek. The answer to all secrets, the cause of all magics, the meaning of life itself,” Adrienne said and studied Raoul with steady green eyes. “The conja said I would have a colossal task before me. A terrible burden would befall me, but the burden would bring me that which would answer the eternal question.”

  “She meant Juste,” Raoul whispered. “Is that right?”

  “Oui,” Adrienne answered. “I believe she did mean Juste. My youngest son. It should never be the burden of a parent, that.”

  “No, of course not,” Raoul said.

  “And all I had to do was to wait until the sun meets the Gulf and the skies split apart, showing me when all would be revealed.”

  Raoul didn’t know what that meant. He never had asked questions of Adrienne before, and he didn’t intend to ask them now. The woman had consulted prophets before; like all psychics they tended to be ambiguous and undefined. Naturally, Adrienne had expressed her anger with those who were less than trustworthy before.

  “But I cannot do that now,” she finished, “can I?”

  He was slow to reply. “No. I can find the girl. I can bring her back.”

  “You will find her,” Adrienne said. “You will find her, and you will bring her to me.” There was no doubt in her voice. There was no question. She demanded his compliance.

  Raoul nearly sagged with relief. Adrienne was forgiving him for his second lapse in less than a week. All he had to do was spread the word about a reward for the girl and people would be begging to tell him where she was located. He’d have his hands around he
r throat again in days, if not hours.

  A large hand touched Raoul’s shoulder. Another hand descended on his other shoulder. He jerked, but the hands held him in place. He would have turned to look, but he knew it was two of Adrienne’s bodyguards. Where they had been when he came inside, he didn’t know, but he was aware they knew of his presence long before he was aware of theirs.

  “However, you’ll pay the price for your incompetence first,” Adrienne remarked as if she was discussing the weather.

  “Please, m’dam,” Raoul begged. “Not this. Please. The Roux-Ga-Roux was coming for me. I couldn’t take her with the thing there. It was enraged with her proximity. It was going to tear me to pieces.”

  “It didn’t tear you to pieces,” she stated. “It let you walk away. Then for some reason, it let the girl walk away. Guards heard it. Other people witnessed it. They saw the girl running. The doctor at the hospital was suspicious of the whole event, and now Millet can no longer be used in his capacity. A waste of a good soldier.” She paused and even as unnerved as Raoul was, he realized she was waiting for effect. “You think I don’t know of your culpability in this case. Your abuse of my subjects was tolerated before, but when it costs me personally, it will not be condoned. Your mistakes have come to roost.”

  “I’m sorry!” Raoul cried as the two bodyguards began to pull him backward. Adrienne didn’t want anything messy to happen within the confines of her home.

  Adrienne picked up her cup again. She sipped it and considered the iPad once more. She had many things to do, and there were people she needed to talk with. There was a seer who hadn’t foreseen what was happening now. Certainly the soothsayer had seen the boy’s part of her imminent destruction. There wasn’t time to enjoy the simplest of pleasures.

  Raoul had stopped his protesting apologies but only because something had been inserted into his mouth. She could hear the two bodyguards dragging the man through the back of the house. The busy sounds of the French Quarter would mask the noises they would make. “Oh, you’re not really sorry, Raoul,” she murmured. “But you will be.”