by Gary Jonas
“Ma’am, if you can keep your hands to yourself, I’d appreciate it.”
“You want to put your hands on me, Officer Jenkins?”
“That wouldn’t be appropriate, ma’am.”
“Then I’ll just have to pleasure myself then. Want to come in and watch? Maybe we can find a use for those handcuffs while we’re at it.”
“That’s enough, ma’am.”
“Maybe you’d rather play with my husband.”
“No. Let’s just stick to business here.”
“You can put your business in me, if you want, sweetheart.”
“No. Ma’am, you need to behave. I know I’m irresistible, but you have to control yourself. My partner is in the next room.”
“He can join us.”
“No. Behave. So you heard nothing?”
“I was just in the shower. I don’t mind showering again if you’d like to join me.”
“Oh, I would. I mean, I can’t. I mean thank you for your time, ma’am.”
“Anytime, Officer Jenkins. You got me all hot and bothered.”
She closed the door.
When she walked over to the bed, I shook my head. “What the hell was that?”
“Just having some fun.”
“And if he’d come in for some fun?”
“I’d have choked him out.”
Sarah shook her head. “You people are certifiable.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
What do you do when the police are in the next room investigating a man chucked out the window by your best friend? Well, if you want to get out of the hotel without any hassles, you have your ghost friend stick her head through the walls and doors to make sure the coast is clear to get out.
Esther checked the hallway, and popped back into the room.
“More police getting off the elevator,” she said.
“All right,” I said. “There’s a stairwell to the right, just around the corner.”
She nodded. “Check the stairs?”
“Please and thank you,” I said.
She smiled, and popped away.
I turned to Tara, Kelly, and Sarah. “Everyone be ready to go as soon as Esther says we’re good.”
Sarah shook her head. “Why can’t this one,” she said pointing at Kelly, “just take out the cops?”
“Because we don’t hurt law enforcement officers,” I said.
“She sure smacked my husband around.”
“Your husband is dead. Well, undead. Same difference. And he smacked you around, so what do you care?”
“He’s my husband.”
“Unearned loyalty,” Kelly said. “Common with domestics.”
“She could also be suffering aftereffects of the forced possession,” Tara said. “Mama can help.”
Esther popped back into sight. “Stairs are clear all the way down,” she said. “Hallway is clear, too. Might want to get a wiggle on.”
“All right,” I said. “Everyone, let’s go. Imagine you’re hunting rabbits. Be very quiet.” And yes, I pronounced very as vewy.
“You’ve always wanted to do that as Elmer Fudd, isn’t that right?” Kelly asked.
“You have no idea how much,” I said, and opened the door.
We filed out of the room, down the hall, and around the corner. No one tried to stop us.
Esther checked the stairs again, and came back with a thumbs-up, so we descended the stairs as quietly as we could. Fortunately, the stairs ended at a door to the outside, and around the corner of the building from where the police and ambulances were checking the body.
We went the other way, and ran into more policemen in front of the hotel.
“Shit,” I said under my breath.
But they didn’t pay us any undue attention, and we walked out to the street, and headed down the sidewalk toward Bourbon Street.
I got us an Uber, and thirty minutes later, we climbed out at the same place Tara and I had been the night before.
“Deja vu,” I said.
“Watch for black cars,” Tara said.
And we shared a smile.
This time we had Kelly with us, so even if Emmanuel’s henchmen tried a repeat performance, they’d only succeed in getting their asses handed to them by a magically engineered assassin.
Strange how you walk the darkened streets of New Orleans with more confidence when you know you have Kelly along for the stroll.
Tara led the way to Madame Rousseau’s house, and while the voodoo queen didn’t make a dramatic entrance, she was waiting for us outside because Tara had called ahead.
“Welcome back,” she said to me as we approached. She looked right at Esther. “Well, hello there. What’s your name?”
“Esther Carmichael,” Esther said. “Nice joint you’ve got here.”
“Sorry you can’t get past the porch,” Madame Rousseau said.
“Are you giving me the icy mitt?”
“You’re certainly welcome, but you won’t be able to cross the threshold due to the haint blue.”
“It’s all berries. I’ll see you inside,” Esther said and popped out of sight.
Madame Rousseau’s eyes widened for a moment, then she nodded. “Impressive.”
I winked at her. “Not your normal ghost.”
Madame Rousseau looked at Sarah. “Nor this one,” she said.
“Mama, we’re hoping you can help with her.”
“Slow down, child. I haven’t even met everyone yet.”
I made the introductions. Madame Rousseau shook Kelly’s hand.
“I’ve heard of you,” she said.
Kelly grinned. “Don’t believe everything Jonathan says.”
“Not from Jonathan. You’re first generation Sekutar. Your magic won’t fade. You and I could still be walking the earth together a hundred years from now.”
“Then we should be friends,” Kelly said.
“I should hope so. I wouldn’t want you as an enemy.”
“Likewise,” Kelly said.
Madame Rousseau shook Sarah’s hand, too. “Your husband is not a nice man,” she said. Her eyes narrowed and she furrowed her brow. “But you’re not a nice woman, either. Is that from you or from the body you’re invading?”
“Does it matter?” Sarah asked.
“It does to me.” Madame Rousseau tightened her grip on Sarah’s hand, and the dead woman started to shake.
Esther popped back to us. “Felt like a lonely sap in there,” she said.
Sarah scrunched up her face and let out a howl of agony.
“Oh, what’s with the screaming meemies?” Esther asked, covering her ears.
“Mama?” Tara asked.
“Stay back, child,” Madame Rousseau said.
Sarah shook like she was having an epileptic fit. Her eyes rolled back in her head, and her howl got higher in pitch.
Esther had the right idea, so I covered my ears, too.
“She’s all screwy,” Esther said and popped away again.
I wished I could do that.
Kelly and I watched in fascination as Sarah’s voice rose another octave, then broke off.
In a deep, unnatural voice, she spoke. “I’ll feast on your souls, mortals.”
The wedding ring glowed like a firefly in the night, and Sarah laughed like a demon from the deepest pits of hell.
Madame Rousseau released her hand. Sarah’s body went limp and collapsed.
I knelt by the body, grabbed her wrist and checked for a pulse.
“Dead,” I said.
I looked at her ring finger. The wedding band was gone, but a blackened circle of burned flesh remained.
“Whatever Paul put into that corpse’s body, it wasn’t his wife,” Madame Rousseau said.
“Wonderful,” I said. “So we have the ghost of your grandson running around, the thugs he hired, who incidentally did not turn themselves into the police, an undead FBI agent, and what? Some kind of demonic entity he summoned thinking it was his wife?”
Madame Ro
usseau shrugged. “Are you sure those men didn’t turn themselves in?”
“Well, if they did, the cops let them go. But they’re down from three to two thanks to Kelly.”
Kelly made a fist, blew on her fingers, then rubbed her knuckles on her shirt with pride. “Happy to help.”
But Madame Rousseau turned away from us. She pulled Tara close, and placed a hand on her forehead.
“Is she running a fever?” I asked.
Tara shuddered and shook like Sarah had before, only she didn’t cry out. Her eyes rolled back and her mouth dropped open.
Madame Rousseau removed her hand, and Tara dropped to her knees.
“Mama?” she asked, her voice like a little girl.
“It’s all right, child. You’re going to be all right. It might take a while, but we’ll do what we can for you.”
“Uh,” I said, raising my hand. “You mind filling me in?”
Esther popped back to us. “All clear?”
I motioned for Esther to be quiet.
Madame Rousseau sighed. “To answer your questions, I don’t know what Paul summoned. Some malevolent spirit. It wouldn’t give me its name.”
“And Tara?” I asked.
“Whatever that spirit was, it’s trying to possess her now.”
“Is it a ghost?” I asked.
“If so, it’s more malevolent than any ghost I’ve ever seen,” Madame Rousseau said. She shook Tara. “Fight it, child! You’re strong. You can do it.”
Tara brought her hands up, and I noticed Sarah’s ring on her finger. How the hell did it get to her? She hadn’t touched Sarah. But if it was a spirit inside the ring causing the problems…
I grabbed Kelly’s arm, and pulled her close. “If it’s a ghost, I have a solution.”
I told her what to do, then I vaulted the steps to the porch, and held the front door open.
“Now, Kelly!” I yelled.
Kelly grabbed Tara, spun her around and hurled her across the porch.
I caught Tara and heaved her into the house.
She hit the floor and rolled, smacking against a coffee table, and knocking over a couple of candles. Fortunately, they weren’t lit.
“Everyone inside,” I said.
Kelly helped Madame Rousseau up the steps, then staggered backward a few steps.
She struggled, trying to punch the air. The porch light glinted off Sarah’s ring, now on Kelly’s finger.
I glanced over at Tara’s hands. The ring was gone. So it had transferred to Kelly somehow.
“Check Tara,” I told Madame Rousseau.
Then I raced out of the house, across the porch and jumped to the ground beside Kelly. She swung a wild punch, but I managed to duck, and I wrapped my arms around her waist, lifting her into the air.
“Hold on, Kelly,” I said, and staggered to the porch. I set her feet on the concrete, and shoved her as hard as I could. My shoulder erupted in agony, but I bit back the pain.
Kelly staggered forward into the house.
A dark energy swirled around me, crying out like a wolf howling at the moon. It tried to dive into me.
“I don’t know what you are,” I said, as it tried leaping into me again and again, getting more frustrated with each attempt.
“Shall we dance?” I asked. I held up my hands and a glowing band of gold tried to slide onto my finger, but it bounced away as if fighting against the repellent force of a magnet.
The demon spirit threw itself at the house, but couldn’t get past the haint blue.
“Okay, you’re an evil spirit of some kind,” I said.
“Get in the house, Jonathan,” Madame Rousseau called.
“Be there in a minute,” I said.
The darkness slammed into me time and again, crying out after each try.
“You’re obviously powered by magic, and you’re mighty persistent, but in case you haven’t noticed, you’re wasting your time. You can’t possess me.”
The darkness stopped attacking and hovered like a cloud of smoke in front of me. It didn’t have any features. It slowly circled around me.
“Who sent you?” I asked.
But I was wasting my breath since it couldn’t speak without a host.
“I’m getting bored,” I said. “Go on home to your mommy or daddy. We’ll have this conversation another time.”
It took one last leap at me, then shot out of sight toward the French Quarter. The ring dropped to the grass, and it occurred to me that the darkness may have been an illusion.
As that thought formed, another chill ran through me. I stepped onto the porch, and a wave of vertigo brought me to one knee.
“Jonathan?” Kelly asked, joining me on the porch. She helped me up.
“I’m all right,” I said, and rubbed my shoulder.
“What’s wrong with your shoulder?”
“Just an infection,” I said. “I may need some ibuprofen.”
“Are you sure?”
“Pretty sure. That tracker left a mark. It hurts, but we have more important things to focus on right now.”
“Get inside.”
She followed me into the house. Tara sat on the couch, head in her hands.
“Is she all right?” I asked.
“She’s confused,” Madame Rousseau said.
“She can’t go out there without some kind of protection from that spirit,” I said.
“Which shoulder?” Kelly asked.
“What?” I asked.
“Which shoulder is hurt?”
“We’re talking about Tara.”
“Keep talking, but get that shirt off.”
I sighed, and removed my shirt.
Kelly stared at the swollen mound on my shoulder. She poked it, and I flinched.
“Ow.”
“What happened?” Madame Rousseau asked, moving to look at my injury.
“When Andrews put the tracker on me, it stabbed. I think it’s just an infection.”
Madame Rousseau shook her head. “Are you getting chills?”
I nodded.
“Nausea?”
“A little.”
“Kelly, get him to lie down. He’s been poisoned. I’ll be right back.”
Madame Rousseau disappeared down a hallway.
Kelly helped Tara move to a chair, and made me lie down on the couch.
“I can sit up,” I said, trying to raise myself to a sitting position.
“Do you want me to pinch off your carotid artery for a few seconds?”
“Fine,” I said, and stretched out. “How are you feeling, Tara?”
“Cold,” Tara said. “Like something evil scraped the inside of my soul and knows it can have me whenever it wants.”
“It can’t come inside,” I said.
“Did it take Sarah’s body back?”
“Not while I was out there.”
“I’ll check,” Kelly said. She went to the porch, then returned. “The body is gone, so the spirit has a host again.”
“It’s going to come back,” Tara said. “It wants to eat my soul.”
“I won’t let that happen,” I said.
Madame Rousseau came back to the living room. Jack, the basenji dog followed her. She had a wet towel, which she placed on my shoulder. It stung and I could smell rubbing alcohol. “Kelly,” she said, “apply pressure.”
“That stings,” I said.
Jack tried to get onto the couch, but Kelly pushed him down.
“Stay,” she said. “Or go wander around in this massive house.” She dropped her voice to a whisper. “I hate magic.”
“You can hate magic,” I said, “but be nice to Jack. He’s a good dog.”
Madame Rousseau came around to push on my skin between my shoulder and my heart. “It’s progressed a good ways already. Keep him still. It’s important that he doesn’t move.”
“I need to take a piss,” I said.
“Hold it,” Kelly said.
“No, I really need to go.”
Outside, it
started to rain.
Water splatted on the windows, and streamed down in clear rivulets. The splashing made me need to piss even more.
“You can wet your pants,” Kelly said.
“Then you’ll really be all wet,” Esther said. “Are there any covers here? Spread one under him. He could have a wet blanket.”
“Leave the humor to the professionals,” I said.
Esther and Kelly shared a grin.
I focused on not pissing my pants.
My shoulder felt like it was on fire.
And waves of chills ran through my body.
Jack climbed onto the couch by my feet.
“Stay still,” Kelly said, and gripped my arms, pushing down to hold me in place. She looked at Jack. “Dog, get off the couch.”
Madame Rousseau returned with two bowls stacked together. She stirred something with a spoon in the top bowl. It smelled like oatmeal mixed with mud.
She pulled the bottom bowl off and set it down, then placed the second bowl beside it.
“I’ll be right back,” she said.
Kelly looked in the bowl. “That looks nasty.”
Madame Rousseau returned with a wet washcloth, and a bottle of honey in one of those plastic bears.
“Move the towel,” she said.
Kelly took the towel away. She shooed Jack off the couch as she moved away to give Madame Rousseau some room to work.
Madame Rousseau wiped my shoulder with the washcloth, then upended the bear and squeezed honey onto the welt.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
“The honey is for me,” she said. “I need flavor.”
“For what?”
She reached into her mouth and pulled out her teeth. She smiled at me, all gums.
“For this,” she said, only this sounded like thith. She placed her dentures on the table.
And she put her lips on my honey-covered welt. She sucked hard and slurped.
“Are you giving me a hickey?” I asked.