Devil Dog's War

by Robert McKinney

  I look closer, though, and realize that he’s also not breathing.

  “Oh. OK, then. Zombie.” I say, stepping back from the thing. Different from the movies, but still fucking creepy. I guess there’s more than one reason they call her the Voodoo Queen of New Orleans.

  I start to ask her more about the zombie, but Graham interrupts me.

  “Questions will have to wait, I’m afraid.” she says. “I used a great deal of power today, and now have obligations to my patrons that I must keep. That means I need to leave New Orleans for a time, starting now. You should go, as well. There could still be more of those mercenaries waiting outside of the city.”

  Annoyance makes me frown for a moment, but the feeling soon passes. Graham is right. There’s a decent chance that more gun hands are looking for me. If that happens, I’d be somewhere I can drop, which means far away from the Louisiana territory.

  “Yeah.” I say, “but we still need to talk. There’s still so much that you need to tell me.”

  “How about another set of Cafe du Monde beignets at the end of next week?” says Graham. “My obligations should be more than handled by Friday, and --”

  “Graham, please don’t take this the wrong way.” I reply, interrupting her. “But there’s no way that I’m ever coming back to New Orleans.”

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  I meet Graham ten days later, as agreed. The In-and-Out burger stand that we sit at is about as far across the country as we can get without dipping our toes into surf.

  “These are not beignets.” says Graham, dropping her fried pastry back to her plate without taking a bite.

  I smile back at her.

  “I never claimed that bun-doughnuts are beignets.” I say, before taking another bite of my own treat.

  “Besides,” I continue, “when you’re this far west, this is as close as you can expect.”

  Sitting here with the sun on my back, I feel more like myself than I have in a long time. In the last week, I’ve had time for luxuries like showers, beer, and breaking old friends out of jail.

  All of those things had felt good, but not nearly as much as what I have planned next.

  “So,” says Graham, breaking me away from my thoughts. “Have you decided what you’d like from my patrons in exchange for feeding them that old devil Beeze? It will take some doing, but I can carry the message for you if you’re sure that you’re set on not returning to New Orleans.”

  I look down at my own cup of coffee and plate of finished quasi beignets. My recent trips have been very productive, now that I once again have the ability to drop properly. So productive, that I’d finished them and had time to sit down for a while and think.

  “Maybe.” I say. “Though I first want to know a little of what you think.”

  “About?” asks Graham.

  “You said that your patrons had previously brought you back from the dead.”

  Graham forces a smile when I say this, but not before I see her shiver. Apparently the memory of the ordeal still troubles her. Not great, but I decide to push on anyway.

  “Yes.” She says, her tone shaky despite the fake smile on her face. “Why? Are you planning to die?”

  I shake my head. No. Not exactly.

  “When you died.” I continue. “How long were you gone for?”

  Graham frowns at me.

  “Moments.” She says. “And even that almost broke me.”

  After hearing her words, it’s my turn to frown. Her descriptions from before about the cost of sanity sat uneasily with me. I shake my head again, though. I have to believe.

  “Do you think that your patrons could bring someone back to life who’s been gone for longer than that?”

  Again Graham frowns.

  “Maybe. I think. Yes, actually. But, child, if its been years, as it is with your sister…” she says, guessing, correctly, who I have in mind. “Then there’s more than just resurrection standing in your way.”

  “Oh?” I say, freezing, hope dying.

  “Yes.” says Graham. “I was gone for moments, before angels or devils could even think to come for me. But for someone who’s been gone for years? My patrons can bring a body back to life no matter how long it’s been gone, but to have something in it, to have something other than some zombie… you need to remove the soul from its prison, either in Heaven or Hell.”

  “That’s it?” I say, then laugh as waves of relief wash over me. “I’d drown Hell in an ocean and burn Heaven to cinders for Mary. If it’s possible, however remotely, then that’s the only thing I need.”

  Graham smiles in return and turns back to her beignet, nodding.

  “I knew you’d be interesting.”

  END

  GRATITUDE, AND MORE STORIES (AGAIN)

  Hey there. It’s McKinney, and I wanna thank you for checking out Hellfire Drop. This book has been a labor of love, and I’m glad that I’ve had the chance to share it with you guys. I hope you liked what you read, because I have more stories from the Brimstone Cycle coming soon.

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