by C. L. Bevill
“She cut off the tips of your fingers,” Jane stated, “as a consequence?”
“Non, she ain’t cut not’ing off. Maman has you do it yourself, to prove yourself to her. It’s her way. There was a Japanese princess in the family tree once upon a time. A hundred years ago? Dat woman took to the family business proper. She had magic all her own. In her country, when a soldier made a mistake, he lost part of his finger, but only if he cut it off hisse’f. Maman likes carrying on tradition.”
“Adrienne likes to intermingle different religious aspects,” Jane said.
“Intermingle aspects?” Philippe repeated. “Jane, you’re a special woman. The truth is dat Maman mixes up different magics. She uses exactly what she wants to use. Santeria. Vodoun. Hoodoo.” He lowered his voice. “She uses what serves her best. That be her mistake.”
Lyle powered back the Harvey Dockbanger and let it glide to a slow crawl. He turned the boat into a narrower channel that led back toward the ruins she’d seen. The boat made its way up the channel, bumping against floating debris while Lyle steered.
“Almost there, Jane,” Philippe said. “Been nice knowing you. Sorry about the hell Maman put you through. I would have just kilt you and got it over wit’, myse’f.”
“Very generous of you,” Jane said dryly. Her eyes caught a movement. The tarp stirred just a little. It wasn’t the breeze or the rocking motion of the boat.
Christien, Jane thought. Don’t move. Don’t move. Philippe doesn’t know you’re awake. For God’s sake, don’t move.
Christien’s response was ragged and dull at the same time. Chère, what—
Lyle, the big guy, shot you with the gun. We’re at Fort. St. Phillip. That’s Flor next to you. She’s Philippe’s girlfriend, except not now I guess. Philippe said you’d heal once you changed. Her eyes cut to the west. The sun’s almost down. Hold on. Hold on. Please, hold on.
“We gotta carry that fella again?” Lyle asked. “Heavy sonuvabitch, him.”
Philippe looked at Jane. “I reckon he’s awake. Playing possum, him.”
Jane didn’t move. That was the easy part. But her heart pounded with anxiety.
“Christien,” Philippe said. “I’ll tell Jane to kill herse’f if you don’t do what I say.”
Christien slowed pulled the tarp away from his face and body. His face was gray with pain. His lips were white with blood loss. He gently touched his chest and winced. “You don’t want her dead, Philippe.”
“No, I don’t, but I can make her hurt herse’f,” Philippe said slyly. He snapped his fingers. “Jane, hit yourse’f in the face.”
Jane slapped herself with an open hand.
“Wit’ your fist, Jane. Hit yourself wit’ your fist.”
Jane’s head snapped back when she complied. Her face exploded with pain.
“Stop!” Christien yelled.
“Or I could make her take off her clothes,” Philippe suggested evilly. “Lyle wouldn’t mind a look-see.”
Lyle glanced over his shoulder.
“I’ll do what you want,” Christien said. His tone was flat.
“Good,” Philippe agreed.
Lyle looked forward, and the boat bumped against the mud of the canal walls. He turned the boat’s ignition off. “As close as we’re goin’ get, Philippe,” he said.
“Great,” Philippe said. “We don’t gotta lot of time. I need to make a call and get t’ings rolling. Jane, you’re goin’ to follow Lyle up to the fort. Christien is goin’ to follow wit’out making a fuss.” He snapped his fingers. “Jane, you will follow Lyle. If Christien tries to escape or tries to hurt Lyle, you will attack Christien until one of you is dead.”
Lyle tied the boat to a stump and gestured to Jane and Christien. He vanished into the shrubbery. There was a narrow trail there. People had visited the place before, and the greenery had been worn away with the passage of their feet.
Jane clambered over the side of the boat and trailed after him, turning her head to see what Philippe and Christien were doing. Christien crawled to his feet and braced himself on the side of the boat. He climbed over and fell into the mud. A moment later, he slowly got to his feet and stumbled after Jane. Behind him, on the boat, Philippe punched buttons on a cell phone.
Jane heard him talking another moment after that, but she couldn’t hear the words.
Her head turned back to watch Lyle. Jane, you will follow Lyle. If Christien tries to escape or tries to hurt Lyle, you will attack Christien until one of you is dead. The order repeated itself in her head.
Lyle wound his way through the thick growth, avoiding the poison ivy and the muddy areas. He had been here before and knew the way well. They passed concrete stairs and formations where gun placements had been located. It didn’t look like Civil War emplacements to Jane, and she briefly wondered if it had been used in the World Wars.
Jane, you will follow Lyle. If Christien tries to escape or tries to hurt Lyle, you will attack Christien until one of you is dead. Jane thought about it. If Philippe was far away that she couldn’t hear his voice, he couldn’t command her.
Lyle didn’t pay any attention to her as he continued on the narrow path.
Jane picked up a hefty branch as she walked. She picked up her pace. When she was within three feet of Lyle, she swung.
At the very last moment, Lyle turned, evidently having heard Jane’s closer approach. She used both hands on the branch and swung it like a baseball bat, connecting solidly with his head. But Lyle didn’t really react like a baseball. He fell over sideways and landed in the brush. There was hardly any noise at all.
Christien thought, Damn. That was nice. I love a woman who can hit.
Stupid Philippe didn’t tell me not to attack Lyle, she thought forcefully. He didn’t say what to do if he fell over. He gave me enough free will to screw him. Let’s get out of here. Away from his voice. We can call for help somehow. When you change into the Roux-Ga-Roux, you can get Flor away from Philippe.
Threading their way through heavy growth and growing shadows, they made it another quarter mile before they came upon the ruins of the fort. To the west, the sun was fighting for exposure with a set of black clouds traveling quickly across the horizon. A distant strike of lightning split the skies.
Christien stumbled badly. Jane dropped back and helped him, putting his arm around her shoulders.
Fort St. Phillip had been lost to growth and decay and flooding. Great trees grew on the diminished walls. Roots snaked about, moving debris where it would. The fantastic storm that had been Hurricane Katrina had strewn more bricks about, leaving little to imagine what the fort had once been.
Jane could almost see the star shape in her mind. They had come up one of the levees and wandered into the center of the fort. The walls on the east side were nearly obliterated. Then she could see that the area in the dead center of the great star had been cleared away. Two large cages had been placed to one side. Someone had dragged them in and placed them side by side. Open padlocks hung from the attached hasps.
A fire was burning just off to the right of the middle. Someone was sitting in a camp chair with a cup of tea held in her hand. Jane froze for an instant before she tried to run. Run, Christien! she yelled in her head.
But Adrienne Viqc said, “Stop, Jane.”
And Jane stopped.
Chapter 24
No matter how much you feed a wolf,
he keeps on looking into the forest.
– Russian proverb
Well hey, Adrienne doesn’t need to snap her fingers, Jane thought inanely.
Christien lunged at Adrienne Viqc. A large man appeared from the shadows and hauled Christien back by the t-shirt. The shirt ripped and pulled against his wounds. He made a sound as if his fingernails had just been pulled out with pliers. Struggling, he got slammed to the ground as Adrienne’s bodyguard pressed his knee to the middle of Christien’s back.
“And Christien,” Adrienne said calmly. She took a sip of her tea. Dressed in green s
ilk slacks and a pale green blouse of the same material, Adrienne might have been attending an art gallery opening. Her hair was immaculately styled into a suitable matron’s do. Her make-up was applied in a natural fashion. Simple diamond studs sparkled as they sat on her ear lobes.
What didn’t fit the scene were Adrienne’s shoes and the chair upon which she sat. The area was a mashed-up mix of helter-skelter trees and bricks strewn in every direction of the wind. Her shoes were high-end leather hiking boots that didn’t quite suit the elegant trousers. Finally, the camp chair with its Saints logo displayed on the armrests was completely out of place.
“How lovely to see you again, even with you all torn and bloody,” Adrienne said. She glanced up and gauged the sun’s descent into the west. “And not a moment too soon.”
“Jane, go into the cage, and lock the padlock after you’re inside,” Adrienne instructed with a wave of her hand.
Jane lurched toward the cages and gritted her teeth as she was forced to comply. Christien, you can run. You can get away. Maybe you can rescue Flor and—
I’ll never leave you again, chère, he thought back. You should really know that by now. Whatever we were, I know we were meant to be together.
But—
But nothing.
“And Christien, into the other cage, please,” Adrienne ordered. “Lock the padlock so that it clicks.”
The cages sat side by side. Jane watched as Christien was allowed to stand and had done what the witch had directed. She reached her hand through to touch Christien’s shoulder. He immediately grasped her hand with his and pressed a kiss to her warm flesh.
“Very touching,” Adrienne said. “Is my son about?”
“You mean Philippe?” Jane asked. “He was making a call from the boat.”
“And Lyle?”
“I hit him in the head and left him about a hundred yards to the east,” Jane said easily.
Adrienne nodded. She motioned, and one of her three bodyguards went in that direction. He melted into the shadows and vanished as if he hadn’t been there at all.
“I suppose my son is making a call in order to lure me here,” Adrienne mused. “Very melodramatic.”
“You were onto him,” Jane stated.
“Of course.” Adrienne grimaced. “Philippe is very transparent. He forgets that I have a great many more contacts than he does. Although he certainly found you before my people could. Lyle kept him informed of what was happening, and he was a step ahead.”
“Lyle’s really loyal to you, then?”
“Lyle is loyal to keeping his mother alive,” Adrienne said with an icy smile. “He doesn’t mind a little extra revenue either, oui?”
Sorry I didn’t hit Lyle a little harder.
Christien didn’t respond. His free hand examined the bars of the cage. He touched the places where the bolts attached the walls.
The fact didn’t escape Adrienne’s notice. She opened her mouth to say something to Christien when Philippe announced, “Maman, I knew about Lyle, me.”
“It’s a hard old world,” Adrienne said without moving. Philippe stepped out from the other side of the fort. He’d circled around. Draped over his shoulder like a blanket, was Flor. He dropped her unceremoniously on the ground. She moaned but didn’t move.
The remaining two bodyguards approached Philippe from two directions, trying to corner him.
Philippe smiled grimly. The facial movement was a genetic replica of Adrienne Viqc’s frigid grin.
They’re like a matched set, Jane thought. The thought prodded her into action.
Jane felt in her pockets. Envelope with money. Business cards. Medallion. Knife. She took the pocket knife and extracted the blades. They weren’t large, but they wouldn’t fit into the padlock’s keyholes.
The medallion glittered in her hand. The last spear of light came through the heavy tree line and pointed toward the golden object. The light was the last vestige of the sun’s presence. The clouds, she’d noticed, were rushing in from the west, about to obliterate the remaining skies. Miles away lightning struck again.
Christien, Jane thought. If I placed this medallion on you, would I control you? Or would it still be the witch who was in charge?
Christien’s face turned to hers. He was still gray with pain and blood loss. His golden eyes were frantic. If you controlled me, then I might be able to take out Adrienne and Philippe.
As the Roux-Ga-Roux, you helped me before, Jane thought. You helped me, and you made it so that we could escape the witch. But this, this would be different.
Gold eyes gleamed. Put it on me. Hurry before they look at us again.
Philippe spoke vehemently to his mother. Adrienne sipped her tea as she listened. She felt safe and protected behind her bodyguards. In a few minutes, the third would return with Lyle’s body.
Jane’s mouth opened. I don’t want to make a mistake—
PUT IT ON ME NOW!
Jane dropped the other items and reached through the cage. With clumsy fingers she attached the beast’s medallion around his neck. She left the cord loose enough so that it wouldn’t strangle the Roux-Ga-Roux when Christien transfigured.
Say these words. Obedire mihi. It means, I must obey. Say it three times.
“Obedire mihi,” Jane whispered. “Obedire mihi.” She held onto the necklace and said it a final time, “Obedire mihi.”
Cut yourself with the knife and touch the blood. Smear it on the medallion, chère. We don’t have much time. I feel the beast calling in my soul.
Jane scrambled for the pocket knife. She pulled it up, glancing over to see Adrienne waving her hands at Philippe while speaking loudly. “I’ve given you every opportunity, Philippe.” The tea cup had been dropped to the ground and was cracked. The liquid spilled into the earth.
Jane didn’t hesitate as she sliced open her palm and slapped it over the medallion hanging just over the wounds of Christien’s chest. There was a snap in her head like puzzle pieces falling into the proper places. You belong to me, she thought. You will obey.
Christien nodded. He fell to his knees, and his back bowed up like a cat’s. The sun had fallen away. The change was beginning. He fell to all fours, and his head dropped down as a snarl emitted from his lips.
Jane continued to touch Christien’s shoulder. She looked back toward Adrienne and Philippe.
Philippe finally dropped the contrary act. “The loa are angry wit’ you, Maman,” he said loudly.
Adrienne gasped. “What do you know, child?”
Philippe stared at his mother. “The loa are angry,” he repeated. “Dey won’t serve two masters. I have pleased dem with my promises, and the sacrifice I will make will ensure dat.”
“Dreadful fool!” Adrienne spat. She stood up. “I can’t believe you came out of my loins.”
Philippe snapped his fingers twice. “Maman, sit down and den don’t move. You will not give an order to your bodyguards.”
Adrienne sat, and an expression of abject horror covered her normally calm face. “You can’t do this to me. You’re my son. You’re my blood.”
It occurred to Jane that those were similar words that Raoul had said to his aunt when he had been begging for his life. She couldn’t help but wonder if Adrienne remembered the coincidence.
As soon as Adrienne sat, the bodyguards froze into position. They might have been statues.
Philippe extracted something from his pants pocket. It was a little doll constructed with pieces of green and white silk. A hank of brunette hair had been glued on the head. The eyes were tiny, sewn X’s. “This is a Vodoun doll, made just for you, Maman. You should have been more careful wit’ your hair and your fingernail clippings, you.” He held the malevolent appearing doll so that his mother could see it. “The loa ain’t happy wit’ you. They put me in charge. Tell you what to do for a change, oui?”
Turning to Jane, Philippe added, “Maman don’t like dat much, she? What’s good for the goose is good for the gander, oui? Maman wasn’t happy
with my father, non. One day he went out into the bayous and ain’t never come back. She always said he was too backwoods for her. She went out and found herse’f another man what got more money. Dat and got her with other chillen, especially daughters, but she never had one, her. ”
Jane looked at Christien. His body was transforming, the muscles rippled, and the bones creaked audibly. The clothing melted away, taken by magic she could never understand.
Philippe’s gaze examined Jane critically for a moment. “Best get comfortable, girl. We’ve got lots to do tonight. You done kilt Lyle?”
“I hit him on his head,” Jane said. “I don’t know if it killed him or not. I’m not really caring right now.”
Shrugging, Philippe put his hands on his waist, loosely holding the doll in his right hand. “Oh, t’ings to do, t’ings to do. Use the loa magic to bind my maman. Check. Get the key to the Arcanum arcanorum here in Maman’s place of magic. Dat’s you, Jane. Check. Get the Roux-Ga-Roux. And dere he is.” He waved at Christien’s changed form. “Check.”
Christien rumbled from inside the cage. Fully altered, he roamed over the narrow contours of the cage, testing its limits, an enormous animal furious with his captivity.
“I can change my mind,” Adrienne said. The tone of her voice had become pleading. “I can bring you back into the fold, Philippe.”
“Until you figure out how to stab me in the back, you,” Philippe muttered. He pointed at Flor. “Got the virgin. Check. What’s left?”
“How about the grimoire?” Jane said sarcastically.
Christien snarled.
“Oh, oui,” Philippe agreed. “My maman’s book of magics.” He snapped his fingers twice and said to Adrienne, “Maman, where is the grimoire?”
“I keep it in magical form around my neck,” Adrienne gritted out, trying to resist. Her hand twitched and slowly came up to extract a gold chain from underneath the silk blouse. On the end was a gold cloth book, no larger than a matchbook. She displayed it for Philippe to see.
