The Voodoo Children

by Les Goodrich

  “Come on,” Grayson said to Tanner. “Kung fu training in our apartment,” and the three climbed the stairs to the next floor.

  Jordan finished her martini and she put her glass and the other glasses on the tray and carried them to the kitchen. She washed the glasses and Fallon dried and put them away and Josephine vanished into the house.

  “Will you come see my room now?” Fallon asked.

  “I’d love to,” Jordan said, glad to have somewhere else to go besides the creepy basement.

  Jordan followed Fallon up the stairs. At the landing to the second floor they saw Tanner and Grayson facing off in black kung-fu robes. Tanner swung and Grayson flipped him to the matted floor. Jordan and Fallon looked to each other, shook their heads, and climbed the stairs.

  At the top floor Jordan was surprised to see a varnished wood door carved with vines and set with four panels of colorful stained glass and each pane depicted a different flower. From her pocket Fallon pulled an old-fashioned brass skeleton key. She unlocked the door, stepped in, and gestured for Jordan to enter.

  Inside Jordan’s eyes were blessed with a high ceiling, hung and draped sashes of pink and white silk, hundreds of tiny strung lights, and murals of fairy tales on every wall. The floors were painted white wood and lights from the city outside sparkled in the leaded dormer windows.

  Fallon’s bed was an elaborate four-poster canopy queen set in a nook of the wall and around it in the alcove were shelved a thousand books. Spiral stairs curled to a loft and from it hung a wall of living ivy that made a dark and mysterious room below from which candle light flickered and here and there six or more zebra finches flew from the vines to spots in the ceiling and back and they forever exchanged their short melodic conversation.

  “This is fantastic,” Jordan said.

  “Do you like it?” asked Fallon.

  Jordan looked with still-open mouth and in time she said, “No. I love it.”

  “From the loft we can go on the roof,” Fallon said and Jordan followed her up the spiral stairs. Jordan saw the loft was furnished with a plush mattress, white blankets, fine mosquito nets, hanging tapestries of storybook scenes, candles, and books on top of books. She saw a sterling tea set on a low little table and around it were seated dolls with happy faces and cheerful garments of lace and silk and tafetta.

  They emerged from the roof door hutch. City lights and glowing streets stretched in all directions. The roof was flat asphalt, the rectangular shape of the room and house below, and there was no rail.

  “I come up here sometimes and watch the stars,” Fallon said. “I think of all the many people inside all the buildings and some are good and some are bad and some are smart and some are stupid. Young and old. Every race and every religion. Witches and priests. Church girls and poets. Pirates and teachers. Isn’t it amazing?”

  “It is,” Jordan said and she told Fallon of her own rooftop and her carriage house that she loved and Fallon hoped she could visit someday and Jordan said she would like that.

  “The curve you can see is McShane Place. That big road is Elysian Fields Avenue. My friend Jane lives on Mandeville, where that tower is. Near it. Come on.” They climbed back down to Fallon’s fairytale room.

  “Come see what I do,” Fallon said and she led Jordan through a concealed gap in the vines and in the cloaked room under the loft Jordan was, once again, surprised by Fallon and her little world. “It’s a secret,” Fallon said. “Well Aunt Josephine knows. Sit here.”

  Jordan sat in a Victorian arm chair and Fallon sat in her drafting table chair. She spun around and opened plastic bins and placed on the work table between them rows of bright comic books. “You can touch them,” Fallon said and Jordan picked one up. “Hooligans, Inc.,” Jordan read the elaborate hand-lettered cover. She paged through the first book and saw dynamic sweeping art that told the story of four teenaged friends who chased monsters, vampires, zombies, and demons.

  The drawings were filled with emotion and the characters engaged in raucous action depicted with colorful splashes and strokes and the panels came to life as Jordan was hypnotized with each frame. She found herself caught up in the story of the young adventurers and she blinked and looked up to see Fallon leaning in and reading along with her.

  “Do you make these?” Jordan asked.

  “Yes. I write the stories and draw the pages. I scan them into the computer and publish the books. I also deliver them to the comic book shops in town and no one knows it’s me. They think I’m just the delivery girl. And we sell them over the internet to shops all over the world.”

  “And you use the internet from your room? You have WiFi and Josephine lets you?”

  “Yes,” Fallon explained. “Because the whole room is a protective spell. The living ivy on the loft is grown with intention and every leaf that appears provides a stronger spell. The little birds are sensitives and would warn us of any intrusion attempt. And the paintings on the walls are spells too. We’re safe in here.”

  “Do you draw the pictures outside of the books then cut them up to make the stories, or do you draw the books like this?” Jordan asked and she was impressed with all aspects of each issue of Fallon’s comic books.

  “Here’s a rough draft of the next book,” Fallon said and she showed Jordan a book that looked much like a finished comic book only twice the size, and the paper was heavier. The art was masterful and each detail was painted with precision and obvious care. The hand lettering was steady and straight and each character’s speech had its own custom designed lettering so the reader could learn their voices with each read.

  “This is a rough draft?” Jordan asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Who sees it?”

  “Only me,” Fallon said and she looked to the pages as Jordan turned them.

  “Why would you ever put so much effort into something no one else will ever see?” Jordan asked sincerely.

  “Because how you do anything, is how you do everything,” Fallon said and Jordan’s admiration for the girl she had thought to be odd so long ago in her shop grew and overflowed from her.

  Jordan looked at every single one of Fallon’s many comic books and they talked about story ideas and about voodoo and witches and ghosts and faeries late into the night and the zebra finches sung and darted until they found the hidden spots where they slept. Jordan said goodnight and walked all the way down the stairs to the basement where Tanner was already out and she slept peacefully knowing young Fallon and her secret enchanted room were high above her.

  ***

  Brit reclined on her bed with her arms folded behind her head and she stared at the ceiling. She sat up and looked at the map of New Orleans on her phone. She resumed her position. She crossed her legs, closed her eyes, breathed deeply, and thought about her friends. She wanted to help them, but she didn’t want to get hexed doing it. She wouldn’t. She’d stay above the city and just find the guy. “Well I wanted to go to New Orleans, so here we go.”

  She saw roads and she saw water and it was a bright day and she saw the Florida Keys below her and she knew it was her restless mind.

  “That’s another trip,” she said, and she breathed deeply again and cleared her mind. She thought of New Orleans specifically. Suddenly she saw gaslights and wrought iron rails and she knew she was there. She was surprised to find herself on the street and she walked along unseen among the crowds and buildings. She moved to an empty part of the sidewalk, searched with her mind, then moved to a small park of grass across the street.

  Her view swung as her head tilted back and she saw stars and clouds wheel overhead. She saw crows fly by in the night sky, she heard their squawking, and then she was among them. She flew higher and onward with a strange effort that was like a push or a thrust from her inner core and once she was moving she glided easily. Her awareness moved over streets and rooftops and she rose higher and searched for some sign.

  She saw a dark city block and was drawn to it. Her awareness descended down and l
anded like a night hawk swooping upon a field. She walked among the dark stones and realized she was walking in a graveyard. She was surprised that her methods of movement shifted between flight and walking in a way that was out of her direct control. She felt as if she were conscious of a dream but merely observing it. But in a way she could shift into flight at will. Maybe if something was important her mind made her land.

  She walked on. The above ground crypts formed lanes and passages and the restlessness of spirits was abundant. She saw men prying a crypt door open and as she drew closer she saw that they were undead and foul. Their clothes of worm-ridden rags. Their flesh decayed and oozing. And when their new companion emerged from the crypt, his appearance was no more pleasant. She watched the trio lumber down a graveyard lane and vanish onto the night street. She felt the tingling electrical presence of malice and control and she knew, somehow, that Figment’s awareness or programming was responsible for the zombies.

  She looked to the sky and forced her perception up, and above the cemetery she flew. She saw illuminated cables of light that pulsed from neon green to a malignant grey and the threads wove spiderlike among blocks of houses that surrounded the graveyard.

  She saw a bloodred sigil where it glowed above a wicked altar and she was inside a room of fiendish shadows and dark magick potency. She saw a wall of documents and photos and a hexed photo with a bloody X over a face and she saw the name Joel Ellis on a business card under it. The very air was fear and hate and poison and illness. She heard the creeping sound of chair wheels across the wood floor and before her a hooded figure slowly stood above a desk filled with monitor backs and cables and machines.

  It was Figment and he looked directly at her. He moved around the desk in no hurry but with a malicious intent. Brit saw a wand drop from his sweatshirt sleeve and she saw his hand catch it.

  Brit opened her eyes and sat up in her bed and searched the room half expecting Figment to be there. All Figment had seen was a shadow and he shook it from his mind. He had been awake too long. He was losing it. He had work to do. Always more work to do.

  Chapter 19

  Property Damage

  Rick Warren joined team Lemort, Tanner, and Jordan for coffee as a cold midmorning Sun cast long winter shadows down the streets of New Orleans. Rick greeted the others, sat, and hung his brown fedora on the chair arm. From his towering stature Barton bent between the guests to serve them where they sat at the dining room table and his gestures were practiced and swift. The coffee was strong and Jordan was happy. They ate cut fresh fruit in bowls and homemade cinnamon rolls.

  They studied the map Josephine had rolled out on the large table and Tanner imagined the places they had already been as he traced the streets with his eyes.

  “Brit says he must be in one of these five blocks. Five and a half.” Jordan said and she pointed to the squares around Saint Roch’s Campo Santo cemetery.

  “Are you sure?” Tanner asked. “We were half asleep when she called.”

  “Yeah. I made her say it three times and wrote it down. See these blocks that surround the cemetery on each side, and that half block there. Those are the ones.”

  “She couldn’t narrow it down any more than that?” Tanner asked.

  “She’s new at it I guess. Carol didn’t do any better. Plus its adjacent to the area Casey said the server was in, and Casey said from the beginning her’s was just the general area. There’s something else,” Jordan added. “Brit said she saw a wall of voodoo spells and hexes centered on one person. She saw the name Joel Ellis. Anyone know the name?”

  “I do,” Rick said. “He’s the CEO of Cyberloch. A computer security company with serious clients.”

  “Like whom?” Josephine asked.

  “Like the US military. Like the biggest banks. The ten companies you’ve never heard of who own the rest of the world. Whatever this guy’s into, it’s not good. I’ll put a call in to some of my crew and have them put Cyberloch on high alert.”

  “You don’t think they’re protected?” Tanner asked.

  “I know they are but some of this is politics. The IWM has worked heavily with Cyberloch from the beginning. There’s more magick in the world than people realize. We have alliances with them and I don’t want them coming back saying we should have spotted something they missed.”

  Josephine studied the blocks. “This is an ancient cemetery. Crypts above ground, and as you can see, it’s quite large. Two full blocks. It is walled, but the main entry is here. If we were to get cornered in there, it would be a hard fight to get out. I don’t want to become a permanent resident.”

  “We may not have to go in it at all,” Jordan said. Fallon smiled at Jordan and Jordan smiled back. “We’re going to the bank today and after that we’ll head to the Saint Roch’s neighborhoods. I imagine we’ll be there around noon or just after.”

  “Can I go?” Asked Fallon.

  “No,” Josephine said and Fallon dropped her head.

  “I need you to stay here and guard our home. When we are gone, you must go to the rooftop. Let no one approach the doors, front or back.”

  Fallon smiled. “Okay,” she said. “What are you gonna do with Figment when you catch him?”

  “I’ll show you,” Rick said and he reached for his bag. “By the way, do you have another one of those protection necklaces you made us. I lost mine.”

  “Sure,” Fallon said. “I’ll get it before you go.”

  Rick had grown warm from the coffee, so he removed his leather jacket and hung it on his seat back. He pulled his messenger bag up from the floor, dug through it, and took out a pair of heavy, antique, steel handcuffs. Upon their wide, rust colored, but seasoned surface were deeply carved symbols of Ashenguild power.

  “Whoa. Are those actual spellcuffs?” Tanner asked.

  “They are. When we catch him, we clamp these on his wrists.” Rick handed the heavy cuffs to Tanner who inspected them with respect. “Once they lock, he’ll know what it feels like to be controlled by someone else. He’ll be harmless. Then I turn him over to my superiors.”

  “What happens to him after that?” Tanner asked.

  “It’s classified. But he’s broken as many serious magickal laws as anyone I’ve ever chased. Controlling others is right at the top. Believe me, he’s gonna wish he’d been caught by the FBI.”

  “Very well,” Josephine said and stood. “We will meet you at the cemetery gates. Do not begin your search without us. Fear no evil.”

  Barton cleared the dishes and Fallon hugged Jordan’s shoulders then ascended to her room. Josephine, Charles, and Grayson vanished into the house and Tanner, Rick, and Jordan found themselves at the table alone. Fallon returned and gave Rick a new protective charm necklace and he put it on.

  “Learn any kung fu last night?” Jordan asked Tanner and she karate chopped him in the shoulder.

  “Ow! I’m bruised there.”

  “Sorry.”

  “Yeah, I learned a few things, but I think I’m too sore to try them.”

  “Can I see that wand of yours now?” Rick asked and Tanner obliged. Rick inspected the epidote crystal and the copper wiring. Tanner explained how it worked to translate the witch’s energy into electrical power and amplify it.

  “Impressive,” Rick said and he gave Tanner back the wand. “Why don’t you have one?” he asked Jordan.

  “No one’s drilling a hole through my wand,” Jordan said. She pulled her blackthorn wand from her backpack and handed it to Rick. When he took it he felt it tilt and swing on its own and the handle grew instantly ice cold. He wasted no time handing it back to Jordan.

  “I wasn’t sure about working with you two, because I’m used to working alone. But I have to say, I’m glad to have you here. I thought I’d just wing out here, do a quick scrying search, and pick this guy up before lunch.”

  “Is that what usually happens?” asked Tanner.

  “Actually, that’s never what happens. But it’s usually not this crazy either. This guy
is serious. It makes the fact that you called me in even more important. When this is over, I’ll be sure the two of you get the recognition you deserve.”

  “We don’t want recognition. We like to stay out of the limelight,” Jordan said and Tanner nodded.

  “Not cowan publicity, I mean within the IWM. We protect our own; we invented secrecy. It would only ever be a good thing for the agency to know how capable you are. Believe me, my friends are the kind you’d always be glad to have.”

  “Fair enough,” Jordan said.

  ***

  The three rode in Jordan’s Jeep to the scene of the last known crime perpetrated by Figment and the kids. They parked in the customer parking lot.

  “I was only here once,” Rick said. “We’ll have to see how cooperative they are.”

  “We don’t need to go inside,” Jordan said hopping out. Rick got out of the passenger seat and Tanner climbed out from the back. “I want to take a look at that alley. Where the girl disappeared.” Jordan walked to the edge of the parking lot at stood at the grass in front of the bank. She surveyed the bank entrance and walked, counting each step, to the door. She stood facing the doors with the alley on the left. She retraced what she imagined to be the girl’s steps and she stopped at the west corner where the bank side formed the long alleyway with the larger brick office building. Jordan moved into the shaded alley.

  “They said the officer rounded the corner and the girl was gone. If the police came from their car in the lot, they would have been about twenty steps from the kids when they shot. Just a guess. But look how far it is to the end of the alley.”

  Tanner and Rick were beside her and the three of them looked to the end and they looked up to the blank walls and high balconies in spots on the office wall.

  “No way she could have made the end of the alley if they were on her heels,” Rick said. “Even if they were twenty steps behind. Hell, even if she had a forty step head start. It’s two hundred feet to the end. Maybe more.”