by C. L. Bevill
“Being made to do things kind of sucks, doesn’t it, Adrienne?” Jane asked. She thought to Christien, I don’t know what Philippe is planning. But you need to get out of the cage. You need to do two things. Make Philippe unable to speak. Then I can do the same to Adrienne. Hogtie them if I have to.
Christien whined in response. In his bestial state, he didn’t know what Jane was talking about.
I don’t want to have to kill them. A mental image of Lyle came into Jane’s head. I did what I had to do. I don’t want to have to order Christien to kill anyone. Can you break open your cage? It wasn’t meant for something like you. Lyle might have been lazy about construction. You need to get out.
Christien pushed against the wall of the cage. His massive head tilted as he listened to the creak of the metal, apparently gauging its weaknesses.
Philippe was enjoying his moment of glory in the face of his greatest nemesis. He wasn’t paying attention to Christien or Jane.
What had Dr. Sorrell said? Jane frowned and concentrated. It had only been hours before, but it felt like weeks. “Obfuscate the mark of the witch. Disable her strongest magics. Cause the witch to recant her spell. All would work. Possibly all of them together. Possibly one might do the trick.”
Philippe approached Adrienne and snatched the grimoire from about his mother’s neck. Adrienne made a small noise, clearly anticipating her downfall. He dangled the grimoire next to the doll, chuckling.
Christien hit the side of the cage a little harder. Philippe glanced over and dismissed the Roux-Ga-Roux. “I’m enjoying myse’f a little too much,” he said to his mother. “Tell me, Maman, was Juste really your favorite son?”
Adrienne snarled soundlessly. Doesn’t look like Betty Crocker anymore, Jane thought.
Christien hit the cage again. Metal squealed in protest. Jane snapped her head over just in time to see one corner part. Christien saw it, too, and pressed his advantage there.
Philippe disregarded Christien as he pressed Adrienne. “Do I have to use the magic on you, Maman?”
Adrienne said vehemently, “Juste was a failure like you. He wanted drugs to use and to flaunt the family name. He counted on the Viqc name to get him out of scrapes. He was never one to use the magics. I didn’t think you had it in you, but you’ve improved, haven’t you?”
Philippe nodded. “Oh, I’m a touch better dan I used to be, me. And dat sounds like Juste, even though I ain’t seen him for years before…”
Adrienne’s green-eyed gaze switched to Jane. Jane could see the perception there. She examined Jane and then looked at Christien as he wriggled the broken bolts of the cage apart. She could have said something to Philippe but she didn’t.
“Clearly I’ve misjudged you, Philippe,” Adrienne said carefully.
Don’t think that’s going to work, Adrienne, Jane thought. She looked at Christien. One massive paw wrenched the weakened cage wall back and forth. The bolts hadn’t been constructed to withstand a creature borne of magic. She could hear the metal cracking with the strain.
“Clearly,” Philippe said mockingly. “The loa listen to me now. Dey want your blood. I t’ink dat would be a good way to start. First, cute little Flor, as innocent as the day she was born. Den maybe you. How you like it, I get Jane to slit your throat? Jane wouldn’t mind, I ‘spect. She don’t like you none, her.” He laughed. “And she don’t even remember why.”
Keep talking, Philippe, Jane implored. The Roux-Ga-Roux is just being the beast. He isn’t a threat, is he?
Christien rumbled at Jane. She muttered, “Of course you’re a threat, Christien. But we don’t want Philippe to know that yet.”
Christien turned back to the cage wall. He gripped it with his tremendous claws and yanked it back and forth.
“So, Maman, go get Flor and carry her to your altar,” Philippe said as he snapped his fingers.
Adrienne rose and went to Flor’s unconscious form. Awkwardly, Adrienne picked up the younger girl and slung her over her shoulder, bending at the waist to get the correct angle. She grunted with the effort of carrying the extra weight.
Staggering with the load, Adrienne walked across the cleared area and brought Flor to the dead center. Items that meant something to the witch had been placed there. A bottle of rum with several shot glasses, a cup of something red, a large pack of tobacco, and gold coins all sat in a loose circle. Additionally, there was a shining black top hat perched next to a pair of sunglasses.
Jane hadn’t noticed any of them before.
Adrienne dropped Flor in the middle and stood up.
Flor made another noise and she said weakly, “¿Dónde estoy?”
“Stand still, Maman,” Phillippe ordered with the snapping of his fingers. A moment later, he asked, “And who has the ritual knife, Maman?”
“I left all of that in the helicopter,” Adrienne said.
A helicopter had passed them on the boat trip down the Mississippi. In all likelihood, it had landed well before Lyle had docked the boat on the eastern side of the gun emplacements of Fort St. Phillip.
You should have snapped your fingers, Philippe, Jane thought, because your mother is lying her ass off. Why bring all that other stuff and not the knife? She’s just stalling for time.
Jane looked at Christien again. The two walls of the cage he was working on were split apart about a half a foot. He wriggled and pulled. He stuck his great head up to them and bit the bars with his teeth yanking on it.
Christien, you can’t kill Philippe, she thought. If you kill Philippe, the spell he’s using on Adrienne will come apart, and she’ll be able to use me again. You have to do something to him but not kill him.
Christien’s huge beast paused in his pursuit of escape and looked at her. His large black eyes glittered intently at her. He didn’t understand her point. He understood that Philippe was dangerous and so was Adrienne, but he didn’t comprehend merely disabling Philippe versus killing the young man.
Jane agitatedly scanned the area, searching for a way out of the situation. She could order Christien to run away, to evade both Philippe and Adrienne, but it wasn’t what Christien wanted. Her death might free him, but it might also make the circumstances worse.
As if Christien was garnering a bit of Jane’s train of thought, he growled warningly at her.
“Shall I command you to have one of your men go get the knife, Maman?” Philippe asked Adrienne. He seemed as though he was enjoying himself tremendously. Years of neglect and attack were being compensated for by his position of power.
Jane hesitated. Adrienne was watching Christien. The beast had returned to rattling the cage. He lurched back and forth on the weak walls, determined to break free.
Thunder rumbled violently through the area. Jane hadn’t seen the lightning strike, but judging by the crack of thunder, it had been close. Above them, the increasing stars were being annihilated by the approaching thunderstorm.
Philippe looked upward. “What was the prophecy, Maman? I’ve heard it so many times. Your way to the Arcanum arcanorum. The conja said all would be answered after you completed a colossal task. A terr’ble burden would be yours. But the burden would bring you what would answer dat question.” He gestured upward. Another bolt of lightning fragmented the skies, striking so closely that the thunder was almost instantaneous. “All you had to do was wait until the sun met the Gulf, and the skies split apart.”
There was enough light from the dusk that Adrienne’s expression was revealed as both horrified and malicious. She knew he was correct, and she hated him for it.
“The sun met the Gulf, Maman,” Philippe said softly, and Jane strained to hear, “De skies are splitting apart, Maman. Whachoo goin’ do now, Maman?”
There were three lightning bolts hitting one after another. One hit the tallest oak near the front of the decrepit fort. The oak had taken over the brick pillars, and the roots had pushed the rest into the ground. Some of its mighty branches had been broken by past hurricanes, but the tree stood proudly,
making its mark on the former military stronghold. A large branch broke apart with a great crack and felt to earth, making ancient bricks fly away from its landing.
Christien burst from the cage at the same time.
Jane pressed her face to the bars. “Subdue Philippe,” she told Christien. “Try not to kill him.”
The Roux-Ga-Roux came around the cages and stalked Philippe through the shadows. Adrienne squirmed in place. Her fist clenched and released. Jane thought the older woman was mentally struggling through the debate of which was the lesser evil, her son, Philippe, or the man she had cursed to be a beast?
Adrienne waited too long as Christien closed in behind Philippe. Philippe was still looking at the downed oak branch. Christien snarled as he leapt, and he took Philippe down, locking his jaws around Philippe’s neck.
Jane started to say something, but the chilling smile on Adrienne’s face took her breath away.
Chapter 25
On death, all accounts are cancelled.
– Japanese proverb
“DON’T KILL HIM!” Jane yelled.
Christien roared around Philippe’s neck. Christien’s huge claws held onto Philippe’s arms, digging in for better purchase. The Roux-Ga-Roux shook the young man vigorously and held him in place. Philippe’s hands moved feebly. His eyes were shut and his legs twitched.
Adrienne switched her cancerous gaze from the pair to Jane. “Jane, you’ve been keeping secrets, haven’t you?” She flicked her eyes back to Christien for a moment. “The medallion is back around the beast’s neck. Did you put it there, Jane?”
Jane mutinously kept her mouth shut.
“You control the animal,” Adrienne said. It wasn’t a question. “Philippe could control you and he could control me. But Philippe forgot that I can still order you.”
Jane gasped. Run, Christien! Run, for God’s sake run!
Christien shook Philippe once more and lifted his head to stare at her. Jane suspected the rules made it so that the order had to be spoken. Her control of the beast wasn’t contained within the mental conversations they were able to have.
“Christien— ” she started to say and Adrienne interrupted her. “Jane, be quiet.”
You have to get away, Christien, Jane thought furiously. Please, get away before the witch tells me to order you to do something. Please.
“Juh-ane,” the Roux-Ga-Roux said with a whine. It was question, concern, and rage all rolled up in one short word. It was obvious that he didn’t want to leave her.
Adrienne stood still, obviously considering her options. She was forced to stand there while the Roux-Ga-Roux snarled nearby. “Hmm. I need you out here, Jane, and since I can’t control the beast and you can, you shall. Jane, tell the beast to break the lock of your cage and then you will be quiet again until I ask a question.”
“Christien, break the lock of my cage,” Jane said automatically.
Christien dropped Philippe immediately. The tremendous beast crossed over to Jane’s cage and began working at the padlock. It wasn’t the padlock that gave way but the metal of the hasp. He wrenched at it once, twice, and then the metal came apart with a loud crack. The door fell open. The Roux-Ga-Roux looked at Jane expectantly.
Adrienne was triumphant. “The problem with making a Roux-Ga-Roux is that a witch has to depend on the familiar pendant to control the beast. You see, Jane, I couldn’t tattoo the loa’s mark on him because every time he changes the mark would vanish. Now all I have to do,” she said, “is to instruct you, Jane, to have the beast kill my son. Isn’t that ironic?”
“His name was Juste,” Jane said. Adrienne had asked a question.
Adrienne went absolutely still. She was still before, but her entire body became transfixed. Her emerald gaze settled on Jane. “Do you remember, Jane?” Adrienne remembered her own instructions and added, “Tell me, Jane.”
“No, I haven’t remembered. It was what Philippe said,” Jane said as she thought. She couldn’t speak, but she could tell Christien to attack Adrienne through their mental connection. Christien was standing near the cage. As the beast, he was horribly fast. He might be able to make it to the older woman before she snapped out an order to Jane. Maybe. But maybe not.
But Jane had the higher moral ground to consider. Could she tell Christien to kill someone? She knew the answer now. No, she could not, not even a woman like Adrienne Viqc.
The Roux-Ga-Roux faced Adrienne again. His snarl echoed even over the thunder and lightning. The storm over them intensified. It was as if every god ever invented by men hiding in caves, had come out to howl their displeasure.
Christien looked at the black skies and the whirling clouds above and growled again.
Adrienne would have nodded again but she couldn’t. “We’ll have to wait and see if Philippe dies, then?”
Jane’s lips flattened. Philippe’s throat was likely crushed by the Roux-Ga-Roux’s powerful jaws. If he was getting any oxygen at all, it was very little. She had the little pocket knife. It was still in her hand, as a matter of fact. She could do a tracheotomy if she had a mind. Philippe wouldn’t be able to speak to her, to order her, but that didn’t solve the problem of Adrienne Viqc. Any moment the witch was going to decide that Christien should kill Philippe, and all would be undone. She would be in charge once more.
“You will not give anymore orders to the beast unless I tell you to do so, Jane,” Adrienne ordered.
Jane would have cursed but it was impossible.
“You will not touch or harm me unless I order you to do so, Jane,” Adrienne added.
Great, Jane thought.
“You may move and speak again now, Jane,” Adrienne finished.
Jane opened her mouth to tell Christien to run but the words wouldn’t come out. Then she did curse.
“What if I have you kill Philippe?” Adrienne proposed. “It would be particularly apt, oui?”
Christien’s growl strengthened.
“And call off your wolf, Jane,” the witch said coldly. “If he steps toward me, I will have you pick up a branch and beat yourself with it.”
The roar of the Roux-Ga-Roux competed with the heavens.
“I see, Christien is more aware than I previously considered,” Adrienne smiled again.
“Philippe said the loa were angry with you,” Jane said, resorting to the only weapon she possessed, her intelligence and the feeling that Adrienne wouldn’t like to be second-guessed. “He said you disrespected them, and they don’t like that you forgot them.”
Adrienne frowned. “Philippe’s got a big mouth, oui?”
“Crazy, all of you are crazy,” came another voice. Flor crawled to her feet and stood, shaking. The bruise on her forehead was black as if she had rolled in mud. Her heavy accent made the words nearly incomprehensible. “Perras locas,” she spat out as punctuation.
“Let’s start with Philippe’s little Latina, here,” Adrienne said. “Jane— ”
Flor didn’t like that much because she hauled back one arm and knocked Adrienne out with a powerful roundhouse punch. The uppercut caught Adrienne right in the sweet spot because the older woman quickly folded to the ground.
Flor spat upon the woman’s unconscious form. Then she spat on Philippe. She said a mess of Spanish words, none of which Jane understood. Finally, the young woman looked at Jane and said, “And you. You started all of this blasphemy.” Her fingers moved in the sign of the cross across her chest.
Jane stared at Adrienne. Jane couldn’t order Christien to do anything. She couldn’t touch Adrienne. All she could do was walk away. She could make it back to the boat. She might be able to coax Christien into following her. She might be able to get Flor to go, too. All before Adrienne or Philippe were able to wake up and speak. That wasn’t really an issue with Philippe, but Adrienne was made of sternest iron. They probably only had minutes.
“Flor, we need to run,” Jane said urgently.
Flor froze as she noticed Christien. The hulking shape of the Roux-Ga-Roux shifted
where he stood near Jane. “Madre de Dios,” Flor whispered, shrinking back. “What is that? What have you people done?”
“Not me, Flor. Her. The one you hit. We have to go now before she wakes up again,” Jane added frantically. She turned toward the east, hoping Flor would follow. Christien trotted after Jane. “He won’t hurt you, I swear.”
Which is a bad thing to say because Adrienne can tell me to order Christien to kill her.
“He won’t hurt you if we can get away from that woman,” Jane said as she paused, pointing toward Adrienne’s prone form.
Flor looked at Adrienne, then her eyes went immediately back to Christien. “Él es un hombre lobo?”
Jane didn’t need to understand Spanish to understand that. “He’s cursed. Like I am. Philippe and his mother are witches, sorcerers. They’re bad people. Philippe had you kidnapped to use you in some kind of ceremony. Come with me now, and we can get away.”
Flor spat again. She dug in the pocket of her ragged blue jeans. Jane didn’t understand at first. She thought the younger girl might be looking for a Kleenex or perhaps a cell phone. All of the migrant workers that Titus Perdue used seemed to have the disposable ones. Instead, Flor pulled out a large pocketknife. She cursed steadily as she opened it with one hand. The blade had a hold on it in order for someone to be able to open it with a single thumb. Before it was open, Flor walked steadily toward Philippe. A relentless stream of guttural Spanish came from the pretty girl’s lips.
“No!” Jane yelled. “No! Don’t—” But it was too late, Flor lifted her arm and shoved the knife into Philippe’s heart. The blade sank in all the way to Flor’s fist, and she yanked it out to do it again.
Philippe’s legs spasmed again and then went still. He was dead. He wouldn’t be commanding Jane anymore. Nor would he be commanding his mother.
As if on cue, Adrienne lifted her head. She could move again. She could command her bodyguards once more. She could even command Jane to kill Flor.
“Run, Flor!” Jane screamed. “RUN FOR YOUR FREAKING LIFE!”
