by C. L. Bevill
Jane faltered. That expression made the marrow inside her bones turn to ice.
What are you doing? the other one bellowed inside her head. Run! Run! Fille idiote!
The other one’s unnerved voice prompted her reaction. Jane gasped and darted past the office. She saw the dusky light of sunset filling in the rooms ahead of her. It was the lobby room of the building, a place where visitors would enter and check in, presumably before going to the elevator on their way to their destination. There was a large wooden desk, polished to a high gloss. There were leather couches with oriental rugs underfoot. A chandelier glittered in the evening light, revealing the wealth of the company that owned the building.
The impressively large glass doors that led to the outside were just there, only feet away.
More importantly, there wasn’t a guard anywhere to be found.
Jane plunged toward the doors, reaching for the handles, and bounced off.
I said they were locked!
Outside in the descending gloom, Jane could see someone there. A towering shadow of a man approached quickly.
I’ll break them! I’ll open them somehow! The locks have to be here somewhere! she shrieked inside her head. Panic was setting in, and Jane didn’t understand why. The guards hadn’t frightened her before. It was the sight of a woman in her sixties, sitting at a desk, calmly working with a computer that had Jane rattled. Those green eyes.
Oh my God, I’ve seen her before, before the car accident, she thought frantically. Her hands pulled at the doors, casting about for the mechanisms that would unlock them.
The image was graven on her brain. The other one hesitated at the door. Silhouetted in the dying sunlight, Jane was too agitated to tell anything about him, except that he abruptly went still.
I know her, too, came his grim response. Behind you.
Jane stilled and turned to face the woman. But it wasn’t the woman standing there; it was Raoul, grinning at her. He loomed over her, and one powerful arm came back. She smashed back into the heavy glass doors before she realized he had hit her.
The pain receded before the blackness. In the background, the roar of an enraged animal registered only dimly in Jane’s fading consciousness. She wondered if the Roux-Ga-Roux was back before everything was gone.
Chapter 17
Any death is easier than death by the sword.
– Irish proverb
“Wake up,” a voice insisted.
Jane didn’t want to wake up. Her head hurt. Staying still with her eyes closed was much better than waking up. I see a great black lake with giant cypress trees, but oh, my head hurts. Did a ship drop on my head?
Oh Dieu, merci, Jane, where are you? Tell me you’re okay!
“Wake up!” the voice yelled in her ear.
The voice at her ear competed with the one in her head for her attention.
Jane’s eyes fluttered up. Raoul had his face inches away from hers. She lay on her back. Above, Raoul was bending over her. His hands grasped her shoulders, and he gave her a little shake before he let go and pulled back. She fell against the ground. Her head thudded on a hard surface, and the world tilted for a moment.
Fighting to maintain her grip on consciousness, Jane stayed still for a long minute, looking at the plain gray ceiling. Then she shifted her eyes around, trying to see what she had gotten herself into without moving her head.
Several things occurred to Jane. She was no longer in the front area of the Barbeau Building. Raoul wasn’t the only one in the room with her. She had a narrow strip of plastic attached to her wrists. She knew they were called PlastiCuffs.
Titus Perdue had given Jane up to the ones who chased her. She was up the proverbial creek without a paddle.
Slowly, she brought her wrists up to her head and rubbed at the side of her face where Raoul had punched her silly.
“There,” another voice said. “Not so bad, oui?”
It was a woman’s voice, and Jane knew automatically that it was the woman she’d seen before, the one in the office with the riveting eyes. Jane didn’t really want to look at her, but Raoul stepped aside and there she was.
The woman leaned against the wall, looking amazingly relaxed. She wore an emerald-colored dress tailored to fit her matronly form. Her shoes matched the sheath. She even had emeralds around her neck; a set of beads progressing from pea sized to marble sized hung at her throat. Brown hair was arranged in a style more suited to the 1970s. Her face was fair, but her neck sagged a bit, revealing her age to be in her sixties. She might have been some maiden aunt dressed up to go out. She might have been a doting grandmother on her way to the opera. She seemed innocuous and innocent.
But the sight of the woman made Jane’s stomach hurt. That horrible feeling of dread gushed through her veins.
Jane? Are you all right? What’s wrong? came the other one’s urgent thoughts.
It’s her. Why are you suddenly calling me Jane?
Jane went numb. Even the throb in her head faded for the moment. She could try to distract herself with questions to the other one all she wanted, but it was all about the woman in the fancy dress.
“I see you remember me,” the woman said.
Jane did remember the woman. It was more than that. The woman in the green dress reminded her of someone else, and it wasn’t surprising that she couldn’t think of whom.
Raoul stood beside the only door in the windowless room, staring at Jane. Jane’s eyes broke away from the woman for a scant second and then were dragged back, as if she couldn’t help it.
Jane shook herself. She rammed the fear deep inside and systematically checked the room for anything that would help her. The floor was concrete. The walls were cinderblocks. The door was steel, and there was no handle on the inside. She was inside a cell. Two people were inside with her, and one looked like she should be crocheting booties for her seventh grandchild. Except in Jane’s head, the older woman would have a little set of horns sticking out of the bouffant hair and a forked tail flicking out from underneath the emerald-colored dress.
“I remember you,” Jane said slowly. “Your name is escaping me.” Bitch. Monster. Demon. Those names work.
The woman smiled. “Call me Adrienne or Miz Viqc if you’d prefer to be more formal.”
The smile made Jane shudder. She noticed that it made Raoul shudder, as well. She also noticed that Raoul’s left hand was bandaged. Two of his fingers were heavily swaddled. She didn’t know what had happened to him, but it was an area she could exploit if she had a chance.
Jane rolled to her side and used her restrained wrists to push herself into a sitting position. Everything rolled and protested. She thought she was going to vomit for a moment, hoping she would splash the woman’s Stuart Weitzman pumps with their spiffy silver heels.
“Would you tell me who I am?” Jane asked as soon as her head stopped spinning.
Adrienne Viqc tittered. It made her seem even innocuous. Her hand came over her mouth and she laughed as if nothing had ever made her laugh so hard before. Finally, she stopped and shook her head. “I love when a good curse comes together.”
“I take it that’s a no,” Jane said.
Raoul stepped forward, his uninjured hand raised to strike Jane again.
Adrienne raised a hand. “It’s all right, Raoul. If she was submissive, we all would have been bored with her long before now.”
“So you’re the one with the habit of cursing people,” Jane said.
Jane, the other one thought warningly, as if he could hear her defiant words.
“Why yes, ma p’tite,” she said. “Those who deserve the pall upon their souls and others whom I am paid to curse.”
“Who set you up to be judge, jury, and executioner?” Jane demanded.
“God gave me my powers. He gifted me my abilities,” Adrienne said with a little surprise, as if such a question was purely inane.
“And I did something to deserve your wrath?” It wasn’t really a question. Jane knew she had don
e something, but she didn’t know what.
“Oui,” Adrienne answered. Her face wasn’t so mirthful. “Truly damning, you. You took something from me.”
“Something I can’t give back,” Jane surmised.
“And again, oui.”
“I’m meant to suffer by forgetting my life,” Jane said.
“It’s suitable, considering what you’ve lost,” Adrienne said, and her voice was ironically lifeless. “Lost love for lost love.”
“You’ve lost someone you loved,” Jane said, “and I’ve lost someone I love because of your curse, is that correct?”
“Isn’t she perceptive, Raoul?” Adrienne asked the other man.
Raoul shrugged.
“It isn’t as fun for you, if I don’t remember why I’m suffering, is it?” Jane asked, staring into Adrienne’s green eyes.
Adrienne’s lipsticked mouth curved into an icy smile. “It is and it isn’t. I think that I like that you escaped my grasp for a bit of time. It makes this all the more worthwhile. Those thoughts of what it is that is just out of the reach of your mind’s eye tantalize you. They torment you. Like the bottle of water dangling just out of the grasp of a man who’s gone without water for days. I would imagine it’s like torture to a bright young soul.”
“Torture,” Jane agreed. “Everything’s like déjà vu, except not. I remember Raoul, though. With pills, laughing at me, beating me.”
Adrienne’s face bore a slight grimace as if she found the thought distasteful. “I have uses for him, just as I do you. Tell me, do you know what the Arcanum arcanorum is?”
Jane stared at the older woman. Finally, she said, “I have no idea what that is.”
“It’s the answer to all mysteries, a sort of tell-all in the magical world. It was foreseen once by a conja woman that I would discover the Arcanum arcanorum and that I would have to experience a great tragedy in order to attain it.”
“I hope Madame Zorphea didn’t tell you,” Jane laughed bitterly. “She’s a psychic in the Quarter who offers readings for $5 a pop. I talked to her the other night, and she doesn’t really seem on top of her game.”
“Madame Zorphea,” Adrienne repeated. “I don’t know who this is and you know this. You joke. This is like you. You don’t know anything about what has happened, yet you make light of which you know nothing.” She paused to scrutinize the diamond ring on her hand. “What about the other one? What do you know about him?”
Does this woman know about our connection? Jane thought to the other one.
She does but she doesn’t, was the enigmatic reply.
Great, mysteries from her. Mysteries from you. Jane would have stamped her foot, but it wouldn’t have done her any good.
I don’t have time. Run, Jane, as soon as you have the chance. The thoughts transformed into a river of desperation. Something bad was about to happen.
There was a knock on the door before Jane could answer Adrienne. Raoul opened it, and another man said something to him. Raoul glanced at Jane and then said to Adrienne, “He’s here.”
“Bon,” Adrienne said and clapped her hands together. “This will be great fun. Are the exterior gates locked?”
“Oui,” Raoul answered. “The building is empty except for our men. The floor is cut off.”
“And the surrounding buildings?” she asked politely, not looking away from Jane.
“All the guards have been excused with full pay. There shouldn’t be a problem,” Raoul answered.
“So you own the whole block?” Jane said.
“I make a great deal of money, chère,” Adrienne answered, “and real estate in New Orleans is prime now. Ten years from now I’ll sell some of the buildings for a significant amount more than what I paid.”
Adrienne finally looked away from Jane. She brought her wrist up and examined the thin gold watch there. “7:40 p.m. Just in time. Get up, Jane.”
Jane blinked and got up. She hadn’t wanted to get up. Coldness seeped through her. She stood for a moment and instructed herself to step back. Raoul grinned at Jane as he watched perception spread across her face.
I can just go for the woman, Jane thought uncontrollably. I can wrap my arm around her neck. Her neck is soft. It wouldn’t take much before I—
Stepping toward Adrienne, Jane was intent on bodily harm when the other woman said, “Stop, Jane. Don’t move until I tell you to move.”
Jane stopped. Her wrists were halfway in the air, poised to strike. She couldn’t move. She literally couldn’t move. Beads of sweat appeared at her forehead as she strained against something that was as unattainable as air.
Adrienne tittered again as she watched Jane struggle. She said, “Part and parcel of the curse, woman.”
Watching for another moment, Adrienne smiled to herself and turned to Raoul. “Bring him down to this level. I’ll leave in the elevator. Have the men barricade the entrance to the building. It is Friday, after all, we’ve all weekend to fix any problems.”
Raoul said something to the man outside the door. Jane saw that it exited into the parking garage she’d been in before. There were no cars out there now. “You’re calling me Jane,” she said, urgency underlying her voice. “How did you know about the Jane Doe part?”
“Serendipity, Jane,” Adrienne said indulgently. “Your name is Jane. There. I’ve told you something about yourself. All those drugs Raoul pumped into you were to control you when I wasn’t about. I don’t need those to control you. You’re mine, Jane. You’ve been mine since the day you died.”
Jane felt the blood seep from her face. As Adrienne spoke the words, Jane didn’t doubt their authenticity. Something horrible had happened and Jane had died. Somehow the witch had used her abilities to take her over.
“Stupid bitch,” Raoul sneered as his eyes flicked over Jane.
Adrienne exited the room, saying, “Follow us, Jane.” Raoul went out after Adrienne.
Jane stumbled from the room, following Raoul and Adrienne, helpless to disobey. A party of three men, carrying a heavy item between them, came toward them. Adrienne stopped and said to Jane, “Stop.”
Jane stopped. Adrienne added, “Kneel, Jane. Stay there until I tell you to move again.”
Jane knelt, allowing herself to fall to her knees. The concrete bit into her flesh through the pants.
I can’t do anything else, she thought desperately, reaching out to the other one. Jane mentally shoved at her muscles, demanding they move, that they obey her but nothing responded. She was as still as a block of ice. If you can help me, now’s the time. This woman’s got me in her diabolic grip. Answer me!
I can’t help you, he thought back. The tone was the edge of despair, embroiled in ferocity and bitter infuriation.
The three men, large and lumbering, dressed in jeans and black t-shirts, dropped their burden on the floor. It was something wrapped in canvas. The swathed shape stirred urgently, and Jane knew it was a person there.
Run, Jane! came the other one again.
I can’t. Jane tried to raise her wrists again. Adrienne had said to stay there until she told her to move again. But it didn’t mean she couldn’t speak. “At least tell me why you’re doing this, Adrienne, tell me so I’ll be tortured more.”
Adrienne flashed a matronly grin at Jane. “But then it would be because you want it, and I’m not feeling favorable toward you.” She flipped a hand at the three men surrounding the canvas bound person. One knelt and began to unwrap the person.
The canvas suddenly parted, and a man spilled out. He came to a rest face down, and when he lifted his head, his feverish gaze caught Jane’s.
“Christien,” Jane breathed. As soon as the witch turned her unsettled gaze upon Jane, she knew she’d made a mistake by saying the word.
Adrienne said, “You know him?”
“I met him before, since I escaped from Raoul.” Jane thought quickly. Adrienne Viqc seemed the sort to hold a grudge. She’d had Raoul searching for Jane, and Jane had gotten away from him not once, bu
t twice. If Jane could cause trouble, she would. “Raoul thought I was drugged in the back seat, did he tell you that?” Jane watched as Christien found purchase with his hands and knees. He didn’t get up. His wild eyes settled on Jane again, and his lips moved soundlessly.
Run, he thought to her. Run! RUN! RUN!!!
Jane almost sighed. I knew it was you, she thought back. It couldn’t be anyone else.
“Raoul didn’t check if I had swallowed the pills. He let me get behind him,” Jane said as if it was important.
“Shut up,” Raoul threw at Jane.
“There were so many people around that it’s a miracle one of them didn’t put up the scene on YouTube,” Jane added. “You’d have much more to explain then, besides the paranormal crap you dish out.”
Adrienne looked back at Christien, ignoring Jane’s words. “Tell me how you knew your name when you should have forgotten as much as she.”
Christien was as compelled as Jane. He was cursed as much as she was cursed.
“It’s written on the inside hem of my t-shirt,” he gritted out, in some sort of pain. The mental strain of being used by another being was tremendous.
Adrienne paused to check her watch again. “Ah, that makes sense. Then you followed Jane?”
“Yes,” he said and said no more.
“My closed-mouth man,” Adrienne said indulgently. “You were drawn to her. Je comprends. You told her your name, and her name was Jane?”
“Yes,” he gritted again.
She didn’t ask the right question, Jane realized. I have to be smarter than Adrienne Viqc. Her instructions to us can be manipulated. She doesn’t know that you already knew my name is Jane. She doesn’t know about the way we communicate in our heads. She won’t know unless we tell her.
Christien looked at the cement beneath him. He was panting; his breath came in heavy gasps. Clearly, he was fighting a battle with himself.
Adrienne motioned at her men. “To the elevator, then.” She walked away from Jane and Christien. Raoul cast a sly grin at Jane and followed at a leisurely pace.
