by Leo King
Sam rushed into the kitchen. It was a bit… different. The refrigerator was open and white smoke rolled out of it. Two skeletons sat at the breakfast table, playing cards. The cabinets were open, with glowing eyes peering from within. The coffee machine was percolating a dark red substance, and around it were odd little creatures that looked like black clothespins with large white eyes at the tips.
Both skeletons looked quizzically at her as she entered. Some of the cabinets slammed shut. The clothespin creatures spoke in high-pitched gibberish, many of them stopping to look at Sam curiously.
Sam ignored everything and went to the stove. It was lit, with a pot of boiling water on it, containing a head with hands for a neck, relaxing in it as if it were a hot tub. The head looked up at Sam and said, “Wait your turn, Princess.”
Sam slid the pot off the stove, making the head complain. The burner was lit with a pale green flame, which she held the silver pen over.
“Sam, have you gone mad?” snapped Vincent, rising panic in his voice. “If the pen is destroyed, I will lose my ability to influence the living world. Do you hear me?”
Sam inwardly grinned. She lowered the pen toward the flame. “That’s the plan. I don’t care what happens to me, but I refuse to let you harm one more innocent person.”
“No!” cried Vincent. “I cannot allow this. Seize her!”
Movement to the side caught Sam’s attention. The two skeletons at the table were advancing on her. She felt the energy from Marinette course through her as she delivered two quick kicks, knocking off one’s head and snapping the other in half. “After I defeated Violet and Bwa-Chech, you think two little skeletons are a threat?”
As she turned back to the stove, she felt something pulled from her, like a weight taken off her back. She felt her strength lessen. Had Marinette just left her?
“Sam, don’t do this,” replied Vincent. “Don’t make me hurt you.”
“Go to hell,” Sam said, lowering the pen to the flame, letting it burn her fingers. “And this time… stay there.”
Before the pen even started to smolder, she was struck hard in the chest and fell back. Shaking off the impact, she looked up at her attacker. It was the same hag that was once her reflection, but now with hot coals for eyes. She wore a dirty dress made of moss and rags. The hag opened her mouth, her maw filled with pointy yellow teeth, and let out a deafening screech.
Sam recognized the hag. The anger, the desire to hurt, the hatred for life. “Marinette,” she said, stepping back. “But how? I thought she was inside me.”
“My loa, my world, my rules,” Vincent said in a stern voice. “I took her out so you’d lose your power. Now she will tear into you and weaken you further. And when she re-possesses you, she’ll be in total control.”
Marinette sank her claws into Sam’s shoulders.
Sam winced in pain. Her great strength had vanished.
Vincent’s voice was icy. “I warned you to obey, Sam. But you have been very bad. Now you must be punished. I think I will give your body to Marinette for a year. Enjoy watching yourself murder everyone you know. Marinette, take her!”
Marinette let out another screech, this one much louder. The sound slammed Sam back against the wall again, indenting the plaster with her body.
Falling to her knees, Sam raised her arms to defend herself.
Marinette slashed at her with razor-like fingernails. Blood poured down Sam’s ripped-open arms as Marinette stepped back, inhaled, and screeched at Sam once more.
The silver pen fell from Sam’s hand as she hit the wall again. This time, she hit the back of her head so hard she went limp. Unable to move, she felt Marinette ripping into her, as if literally trying to dig into Sam’s body. The pain was excruciating and unyielding.
Oh, God! Someone help me! Please!
Sam was answered a moment later. She felt time come to a stop. The world around her darkened and went out of focus. Then she heard footsteps. Looking up, she saw someone before her. It was a woman, a dark-skinned beauty with jet-black hair and fiery red eyes, walking toward her.
The woman wore a purple shoulder wrap that barely covered her large chest. She also wore a purple skirt, one that was split along the right side, which showed off her ample hips. Her waist was ornamented with a sash made of gold. She exuded both a fire of intense sexuality and a deep maternal glow.
Sam felt groggy. In her mind, she summoned up the strength to think, Do I know you?
The woman stopped and placed her hands on her hips. As if she could hear Sam’s thoughts, she nodded.
Sam strained to focus on the woman. Blood trickled from her nose as she steadied her thoughts and searched her memory. Then she remembered the woman from the Patterson voodoo tour.
Wait, I do know you. You’re a high loa, right? You’re the Queen of the Loa, Madame Brigitte.
Brigitte nodded.
Please, thought Sam weakly, please help me.
Brigitte tilted up her head and pointed off in the distance.
As Sam looked where the other woman was pointing, her vision suddenly moved, rapidly traveling outside her home and over a dark and gray landscape—the spirit world. When her vision finally stopped, she knew she was looking at a place that was very far away.
Her sight was obscured, as if looking through a clouded pane of glass. She could make out only one thing, a crossroad. And there, she saw a tall skeletal figure wearing dark purple formal clothing and a top hat. The figure was holding a shovel and was completely bound, ankles and wrists, by what looked like a chain made of snake coils.
Baron Samedi. King of the Loa.
Sam’s vision returned to Brigitte. I get it. We share the same goal. I want to be free of this curse, and you want Baron Samedi back. So, we can help each other. Correct?
Brigitte nodded again. She then slowly caressed her fingers down the length of her body. Her expression was sensual.
Sam felt words form in her mind.
Integration.
Fusion.
Symbiosis.
Immediately, Sam knew what was being asked of her. You want to merge your spirit with mine. We’ll be as one. Is that it?
Brigitte nodded once more. She then ran her forefinger over her throat. Her expression was grim.
Sam felt the weight of the request. The image of her own lifeless body floated before her. It was all she needed to confirm her suspicions. I have to find a way to get to Vincent. I have to destroy him. But then, for us to separate, for you to be set free, I’ll have to die.
As before, Brigitte nodded.
Sam appreciated the honesty. So long as we can take that bastard Vincent down, I don’t care. Everything I’ve ever loved is gone. I have nothing left to live for.
Brigitte looked solemnly at Sam. It was clear she was waiting for explicit permission.
All right, then, Sam thought. I permit you to become one with me. Tell me what I must do.
Brigitte said nothing. She crouched before Sam and leaned in close.
Sam tried to pull back, but Brigitte grabbed her head.
Staring into Sam’s eyes for only a moment, Brigitte covered her mouth in an all-consuming kiss.
Sam was not expecting that. She didn’t kiss back. She didn’t have to. Within seconds, she felt the integration begin.
She felt a tingle go down her spine. It attached itself at her tailbone, then ran back up into her skull. Then the tingle spread throughout her entire skeleton, then her nerves, then her muscles, and then her very skin. It felt like she was being consumed by the sensation.
Sam’s consciousness faded. The last thought that was solely her own was…
Vincent, if I cannot die, then I will dedicate my immortal life to stopping you!
Chapter 35
A Life Without Fear
Date: Tuesday, August 25th, 1992
Time: 10:30 p.m.
Location: Sam Castille’s Townhome
Uptown New Orleans
When Sam regained awareness, she could
feel it. She was no longer just Samantha Castille. Brigitte was within her, a part of her very being. Every thought and every action felt like it was of two minds, two souls, intertwined as one. She even felt more like Brigitte. She felt focused, majestic, confident, and extremely powerful—filled with both arrogance and sexual assertiveness.
Although she was still consciously Sam, she had Sam’s memories and thoughts combined with things Brigitte intrinsically knew. Not only did she now have the ability to fight unlike ever before, but she also knew exactly how to reduce loa to their base energy, effectively killing them.
As powerful as she had felt when Marinette had possessed her, this was in a class all its own. Sam felt like nothing less than a god.
She felt a shock wave of energy fly out from her. Hell, yeah. With a smirk, she opened her eyes. The world was speeding back up. Marinette, who had been blown back, was rushing at her with a slashing claw.
“I don’t think so,” Sam said, moving so fast that Marinette seemed to be standing still. In a flash, Sam was behind her. As she pulled back for a punch, she focused her will through her arm, creating what looked like an arc of white and purple energy flowing down to her fist. Her arm felt hot. With a single strike, she sent Marinette crashing into the wall, creating a hag-shaped hole. Marinette shrieked in pain. Energy poured from the hole, then black dust flew out and drifted away. Marinette was dead.
Sam felt Vincent’s presence. It was far away, deep within the spirit world, but it was focused here through one object—the silver pen.
“What the hell is going on, Sam?” Vincent asked, his voice stern.
Picking up the silver pen, she said, “Don’t you know how to address royalty? Call me Princess… no… call me Queen!”
Several of the lower cabinets exploded as three dog-like beasts burst forth. Their mouths were filled with razor-sharp teeth, and their drool hissed and sizzled like acid as it dripped on the floor.
Sam knew that her power was in its infancy, since she had just merged with Brigitte. It would take time for her to reach her full potential and be able to go after Vincent. Her only hope now was to run before she depleted her energy and was unable to escape the spirit world.
Right, first things first. I need to get out of here and destroy this pen.
The three dog-beasts charged at her. She rushed forward, her movements faster than theirs. She ducked under the first two and hit the third with a shoulder blow, energy flowing through her. The impact was so strong that the beast flew into the counter. The little clothespin creatures bounced in shock and then scattered as the beast slammed into the stove.
The stove exploded, fire going everywhere. The two remaining dog-beasts jumped up at her, and she destroyed them with a few powerful kicks before flipping over the flames. As the flames consumed the kitchen, she grabbed her mother’s charm and rushed into the hallway.
Once in the hallway, she bolted toward the front door. Before she could get to it, however, dozens of skeletal arms peeled away the door as if it were a decal. Within a few seconds, only wall was there. She was trapped.
Of course! The only place I can escape is the attic, because I wrote it that way. Fine, then, the attic it is.
Sam was confident that she could survive a three-and-a-half-story fall now that Brigitte was inside her.
As she neared the stairs, the mirror in the front hallway exploded. Out came a gray-skinned hag in a shroud running at Sam. The hag’s face elongated. Her eyes were black except for fist-sized fires, and her tooth-lined mouth opened wide enough to engulf Sam in one bite.
Sam recognized her. “Bwa-Chech. How many of you have betrayed your queen and gone to Vincent’s side?”
Bwa-Chech did not respond.
Reaching out, Sam grabbed the banister of the stairs and swung around, but her feet narrowly missed that gaping maw. Letting go, she threw herself into her office, where she skidded to a stop. As Bwa-Chech came at Sam, shrieking once again, Sam grabbed her copier.
As Sam lifted the copier over her head, white and purple energy charging from her into the machine, Bwa-Chech stopped with a horrified look on her face. If the hag sister hadn’t been so ugly, it would have been comical.
Sam grinned menacingly. “Bye-bye!” She threw the copier at Bwa-Chech.
As the copier fell on the hag, black dust scattered everywhere. Bwa-Chech was dead.
Sam didn’t have a moment to rest, as a crackle behind her got her attention. A skeletal figure made of lightning was emerging from the computer monitor. She figured the spirit world must adapt to human innovation, developing loa for electricity and technology.
She jump-kicked the monitor, destroying the electric loa. She then rushed toward the stairs. The piercing cold of the spirit world was rapidly being replaced by heat as the kitchen fire spread. As she reached the stairs, she heard the sound of glass breaking from within her study.
The large, multiple-armed skeleton had crashed through the window and was charging at her. Without stopping, she kicked the copier that had killed Bwa-Chech right at the skeleton, sending a charge of white and purple energy along with it.
She didn’t wait for the impact. She headed up the stairs. But when she heard the sound of hundreds of bones crunching, she smirked once more. Serves you right, traitor.
On the second-floor landing, Sam saw the entire hallway heading to the stairs covered in hundreds of pitch-black, ghostly arms. They were of various shapes and sizes and grasped at her with clawed hands.
She sighed. Why can’t this be easy?
Hearing a sound behind her, she turned to see four large creatures with alligator heads and bodies and crawfish tails and claws, walking on dozens of human hands. She curled her upper lip at them, saying “Ew,” and rushed toward the gauntlet of arms.
Sam stopped short of jumping through the morass. Do I have an idea!
Turning away from the arms, she waited until the first alligator creature was almost upon her. She then jumped over them with a triple flip and landed on the fourth creature, destroying it. As black dust went everywhere, she rushed forward, kicking all three of the creatures, one after another, over the grabbing arms.
Once all three alligator creatures were flying over the hands, she took a breath, rushed forward, and jumped. She vaulted from creature to creature, using them as flying platforms to get to the other side of the gauntlet of arms. She then flip-kicked one of the creatures back into the other two, destroying all three of them.
She felt some approval coming from the part of her that was Brigitte. You’re impressed and you know it.
Seeing the hot glow of fire from downstairs, Sam didn’t hesitate. She rushed up to the third floor.
Once there, she saw about a dozen figures coming from stairs leading to the attic. Black hooded figures. Loa that looked like the Knight Priory. These are the ones Vincent used to mess with Richie and Dallas.
Sam charged the black hooded figures, bellowing, “This is for Richie!”
Rushing in, she dodged two of them, kicking one and punching the other. As they exploded into black dust, three more jumped down on her, so she jumped to the side and landed on the wall. She ran along the wall, leaving those three behind, until she reached a wall sconce. Tearing the sconce loose, she jumped into a group of four different figures and, spinning the sconce in a wide circle, destroyed all of them.
When she landed, every figure she had hit had turned to dust. About half were gone. The three that she had initially dodged were running along the ceiling at her, and the three behind her were running along the ground. A lone figure was standing off to the side with a look of extreme disbelief.
Grinning cockily, Sam flipped up to the ceiling and engaged the three there. Catching the punch of one of the figures, she twisted its wrist and threw it to the ground. She then bashed one of them with the sconce and punched the other figure several times, destroying them both. Finally, she leapt down and landed on the one she had just thrown, destroying it as well.
The three runn
ing along the ground were almost upon her. Sam threw the sconce to the lone figure, yelling “Catch!” Then she spun around onto her hands, her legs out like the blades of a helicopter, and pushed herself toward the three. They were destroyed by the spinning kick.
When she flipped back to her feet, she was right in front of one lone, very scared-looking hooded figure, still holding the sconce. The third-floor landing was covered in black dust.
The lone hooded figure looked for an escape route and then offered her the sconce. She waggled her finger at it and said, “Unh, unh, unh!” With a full backflip, she kicked the figure in the face. It flew back and broke apart into black dust. As she landed from the attack, the sconce fell to the ground with a loud clank.
She felt the heat rise again and saw the fire coming up from the second floor. Time to get out of here.
Sam rushed up to the attic. Much of it was packed densely with boxes, chests, and furniture, stuff that hadn’t been dealt with since before Edward had died.
So much for ever cleaning this out. Anyway, there should a window facing the street on the other side of this mess.
Checking her pants pocket to make sure the silver pen was still there—it was—she jumped up to the ceiling and ran along its vaulted surface on all fours. As she landed on the other side of the clutter, she heard Vincent say, “Sam, you have been a very, very bad girl. I will not tolerate this kind of behavior from my princess.”
“I am not your princess,” Sam yelled. “I am the loa queen. And I am no longer yours.”
Vincent snorted and said, “You get no choice, little girl, loa queen or not. I will have my way. I am the loa king now, and you will submit.”
She had started toward the window when a glowing circle of runes appeared on the floor before her. She heard Vincent say, “You give me no alternative, Sam. I will use a servant, a very special one, to stop you. Destroy him if you can. You brought this on yourself.”
She got into a fighting stance. From the circle of runes, beams of light flew upward until they obscured her vision. When they dimmed, a single figure stood there. A ghost. His skin was pale, and he was dressed almost like Dick Tracy. His eyes were lifeless and dull.
