by G A Chase
“Nothing that made much sense, but then you’re more in tune with the supernatural than I. The people who abducted your boyfriend said they did see the cane. They said the voodoo priestess took charge of it as your boyfriend was all tied up and Whit was busy piloting the boat. In all the confusion, she might have stashed the cane somewhere when they landed, but it’s not here now, and none of us ever saw it. There’s an additional story from a drunk who frequents the steps down to the river from the Quarter. He said she dumped it overboard during the crossing.”
Kendell wasn’t sure if that was good news or bad. “So it’s lost to the river?”
“Here’s where the story goes off the rails for me. According to him, he saw an alligator gar swallow the cane and swim upriver. It reminded me of an excuse Hawk would dream up for why he lost something. I’d keep looking for other explanations of where she might have hidden it if I were you.”
Kendell had run across too many odd events to discount any possibility, but from what she knew about voodoo, enchanted sea creatures didn’t fit that brand of magic. “But you do believe Delphine has the cane?” She feared she might have to admit to Myles that he’d been right all along.
Mary handed a piece of bread to Cheesecake to go with her bone. “From what I’ve gathered, it seems like whoever took it knew it was dangerous. Madam de Galpion might have taken it for safekeeping. If it’s as desirable as it sounds, I’m happy it didn’t end up with my people. And your boyfriend might have had a rougher time if that demon still had something magical to hold onto. Of all the potential thieves during the exorcism, I’d guess a voodoo priestess might not be the worst choice.”
* * *
Myles didn’t expect Kendell to knock when she visited his apartment as she was a frequent enough visitor, but seeing Cheesecake standing at her side was a surprise. “This must be important if you brought the big dog.”
She didn’t seem in the mood for levity. “We were just across the river talking to Mary. I didn’t know where else to go. It seems you may have been right about Delphine.”
Myles had used up his lifetime supply of telling a woman I told you so. He’d only gotten to say it once and had lost a girlfriend for that momentary feeling of smug self-righteousness. “What do you propose we do?”
“I can’t just bust in and demand the cane. I wouldn’t know what to do with it if I had it. You said Baron Samedi would be able to take it back to Guinee once we find it. Before I go making an ass of myself—or worse, attracting attention to the cane’s location—I need to know what’s involved in returning him his walking stick.”
Myles set three glasses on his kitchen table and proceeded to half fill them with twelve-year-old El Dorado rum. “Charlie swears by this stuff. Personally, I prefer a spiced rum for sipping, but I suspect the loas of the dead are more purists. With Cheesecake here, I wonder if I should include a shot in her doggy bowl just to honor her ancestors.”
Kendell let the dog off her leash. “You know she’s strictly a kibble-and-water girl. Dog treats are her only vice.”
The old pooch jumped onto his worn couch and scratched out a comfortable place to lie down.
“She’s always welcome here. I’m just not sure how she’ll respond to a loa of the dead showing up out of thin air.”
“Nothing about New Orleans’s air in summer is thin. Couldn’t you set your air conditioner to a reasonable temperature? This place oozes humidity.”
“It’s not his fault.”
Myles turned toward the table. He’d met most of the loas of the dead during his possession by Baron Malveaux, but the tall dark man standing there with white skeleton markings wasn’t one he remembered.
“You must be Baron Samedi,” he said.
The man downed the rum in one swallow. “That I am. You have news about my walking stick?”
Myles was only able to drink half of the rum for courage. “We have a suspicion the descendant of Marie Laveau might have it. If we ask Madam de Galpion, though, we could alert Colin Malveaux. That is, if he hasn’t already ransacked her shop.”
The voodoo gentleman helped himself to another glass of rum. That one, he filled to the rim. “That old voodoo witch taught me not to drink rum without first seeing the sealed bottle, but I believe I can trust you. Her tainted libation is what put me in this predicament. It would make sense that her offspring would be the one to end up with my cane. Unfortunately, I dare not enter her domain uninvited. She has more of those voodoo fetish dolls. I’d hate to get stuck in one. I’ll have to rely on you three to discover the truth.”
Myles turned to Kendell and then Cheesecake. “I doubt the dog is going to be much use.”
“My apologies. I only see her from the beyond. From my perspective, a hellhound can be quite convincing as a companion to a voodoo priestess.”
Myles shook his head. “What voodoo priestess?”
“Why, your friend, of course. Do you really think we go handing out charmed golden gifts to just anyone? You three are on a magical journey together: you the assistant to the loas of the dead, Kendell the natural voodoo practitioner, and Cheesecake her vigilant protector.”
Kendell sipped her rum. “You make us sound like some paranormal detective agency.”
“It’s not for me to direct what you do with your skills, but the more help Myles can secure, the easier it will be for him to complete the chores we have for him.”
Myles was trying not to become intoxicated, but dealing with a loa of the dead had a way of making him drink more than he ought to. He poured another glass. “That brings us back to why we requested this meeting. Once we do lay our hands on your cane, how difficult will it be getting it to you?”
The voodoo loa set his glass on the table, empty once again. “Distance only exists for the living. My connection to you is ever present. There is, however, a problem. That voodoo bitch Marie Laveau managed to lock my staff into the world of the living. You’ll need to learn how to free it. Until you do, I won’t be able to take possession.”
Peachy. Myles was beginning to think every spirit he turned to for answers was just going to hand him another problem. “And how do we do that? If Madam de Galpion does have the walking stick, she’s not going to let it go. If she doesn’t, we’ll need someone else to remove the spell—which, of course, we know nothing about. I thought you were supposed to help.”
“My friend, if it were easy, I wouldn’t need to rely on you.”
Kendell returned her glass to the table. “Maybe if we knew a little more about how your cane was stolen, we might have a better idea of where to look. How did Marie Laveau learn about it?”
“I was betrayed by a fellow loa of the dead. The time will come for me to take revenge, but for now, you need only worry about finding my cane.”
Myles wondered how many pieces were in this magical jigsaw puzzle. “So someone from Guinee told Marie Laveau about your cane and, presumably, that you would be on the Mardi Gras float. She told Archibald Malveaux about it so he could steal it. Then he brought it back to her, and she locked it to this world. That was quite the compensation for a curse that didn’t even effect Archibald himself.”
“The cane was never meant for Malveaux,” said Baron Samedi. “He was only to be the thief. Madam Laveau cast the Malveaux curse after the cane was stolen. The lust for power that runs through that family is nothing more than a burglar’s desire for wealth. But Marie was not to be trifled with. There are aspects of the curse you have yet to discover.”
51
Kendell had never minded her job at the coffee shop on Frenchmen Street. The small café was lined with books and frequented by locals from the Bywater and Marigny. Being a barista there felt more like welcoming friends into her home than actual work.
She finished straightening up a shelf of cozy mysteries. “I’m headed out.”
“See you tomorrow.” The day manager had covered for Kendell so many times she was more like a caring sister than a boss.
Despite the heat
and humidity of summer, she closed her eyes and raised her face to enjoy the warmth of the sun.
The sound of a car slamming to a stop in front of her brought her back to the realities of her mission. The M highlighted with skulls in gold leaf on the back door of the black Lincoln limousine made it all too clear who was inside. Kendell was ready for battle even before the door opened.
As she expected, Colin Malveaux sat in regaled luxury in the back seat. “Get in.”
“You must be daft.”
He turned toward her. “If I meant you harm, I wouldn’t have bothered coming myself. We need to talk.”
She took a quick look back at the coffee shop. The manager nodded at her as if to say I’ll contact Myles. Kendell returned the nod before entering the car, hoping Malveaux wouldn’t do anything foolish.
The man who’d combined the two beings that had caused so much suffering sat opposite her. He spread out his hands so she could have a thorough look at her adversary. “What do you think of my attire?”
His long black coat draped the back seat, revealing an inner lining of red silk with embroidered purple fleurs-de-lis. A vampire would have found something less conspicuous. “You look like an idiot. If you were wearing a business suit like a normal professional, I could at least respect your sense of taste.”
He simply shrugged. “The best of anything is often an acquired taste. Even so, I’m sure you noticed something is missing.”
“I don’t have your fucking cane.” She hadn’t meant to swear, but he really brought out the vulgarity in her.
“I know you don’t. I have my people watching your people. But really? You think a handful of ragtag musicians can outmatch my wealth when it comes to searching the Quarter? But that’s not what I wanted to talk about. You must realize every memory your boyfriend has of his abduction is also in my brain. I too know who kidnapped me, who was on that raft of a boat, and who was present at the exorcism bonfire.”
Divulging what he knew was uncharacteristic of him. She wondered if that was a strategic play by Lincoln Laroque or the careless arrogance of Baron Malveaux.
“Why tell me?”
“Because I want you to see me as a competitor, not an enemy. I was in Guinee for over a hundred and fifty years. I know the conflict that rages between the loas of the dead. That fool of a boyfriend of yours has chosen a side. But he’s not the only one with a baron backing him up. And mine still rules over one of the gates to the deep waters.”
She knew she was being threatened but couldn’t identify the specifics of the peril. “I think you’ll find it’s more than just Baron Samedi who wants his cane returned.”
“You don’t get it. Everyone dies—me, you, your boyfriend, your bandmates, everyone. And whether that’s today or decades from now, everyone passes through the gates of Guinee. Should I win this competition and secure the cane, you’ll want me as a friend, not a foe. You’ve seen what happens to those trapped in my realm.”
She realized the man’s avarice wasn’t contained to the living. “And if I help you—assuming you do find the cane first—you’ll see to it that everyone I care about makes it safely to the deep waters when it’s their time?”
The man’s smile was nauseating. “I only wanted you to be clear on what cards I’m holding. The stakes are higher than you realize.”
* * *
The smell of Baron Malveaux’s pipe tobacco still permeated the leather sofa and desk chairs in the bank’s once-hidden office. Until the Laurette mansion’s remodel was complete, the office was where he felt most at home. The idea that he would soon occupy his arrogant son’s ultimate achievement gave him a feeling of warmth that eluded most business transactions.
By throwing enough money at contractors, he’d been assured even the mammoth wreck of a house could be rebuilt in something approaching a reasonable timeframe. The hidden diaries that had driven him to purchase the dump no longer interested him. He’d gained far more than control over the baron, but gaining the perspective of his ancestor had only left him empty. Ultimate power in life paled compared to being a loa of the dead.
He passed his secretary as he left the office. “I’ll be out for the day.”
Not that his whereabouts mattered, but he liked the idea that his employees would sigh with relief at being free of him for the afternoon. That made their fear at his return all the more satisfying.
Neither side of his personality enjoyed walking the handful of blocks from the opulent bank to Delphine’s rundown shack, but he needed to confront her in person and on her own turf. She needed to know at a gut level that even hiding in her voodoo cave would be meaningless when faced with his ire.
He considered busting down the door, but due to its rotting frame, the action might be taken as unintentional. He knocked on what appeared to be the most solid board of the siding, so weather-beaten the paint color couldn’t be identified.
The door opened to a dark room and a tired Delphine.
“Did we have a meeting scheduled?” she asked.
He pushed her aside, not waiting for an invitation to enter. “You know why I’m here.”
“I told your goons I don’t have your damn walking stick.”
She didn’t appear to have a chair worthy of his noble derriere. In exasperation, he chose her gaudy throne and kicked his feet up onto her worktable. “Bullshit.”
“Fine. I’m lying. Go ahead and ransack my shop and home looking for it. But you, above all people, know what will happen if you overturn the wrong jar.”
He liked it when she was being testy. Irritating someone so thoroughly made him feel alive. “If you don’t have it, you know who does.” A feeling of cold hatred swept up from his bowels. “You gave it to that fucking swamp witch, didn’t you? What was it? Payment for her services? I’ll bring in a dredging team and turn that bayou into a golf course.”
“It wouldn’t do you any good. She passed to the deep waters not long after our meeting with her.”
He balled his fists. Finally, an adversary I can fuck with when I win. “That stringy-haired granddaughter of hers. The one that pointed the shotgun at us. She’s got it. Where do I find her?”
“You don’t. It took me half my life before the old swamp witch invited me to her lair. I only know she’s dead because of the change in the curse. There’s a youthful, determined spirit that replaced the wisdom of age.”
He dropped his feet from the table and glared at her. “Make contact with her. I want to make a deal.”
“You really think it’s that easy? The old witch told you there’s a separation between her magic and my voodoo. I couldn’t even enter her house. What makes you think her granddaughter will want anything to do with me? If you want to find her, you’ll have to do it yourself.”
Though he enjoyed the prospects of that new challenge, Delphine had wronged him, and as a powerful businessman, he couldn’t ignore that. “You should have brought the cane to me. It’s mine. I will hold you personally responsible until what’s mine is returned.”
“Now I’m saying bullshit. You stole that staff from Baron Samedi. It rightfully still belongs to him, but until he steps forward to claim it, I’ll do everything in my power to make sure you don’t regain control over the gate to the afterlife.”
He got up and straightened his jacket. “I know about your work with that sexy, witchy guitarist. I’m just begging for any excuse to bring her down to the gutter of my depravity, but I thought I’d give you a chance to do the right thing first. Since you can’t help me, perhaps with the right incentive, I can get her or her fool of a boyfriend to intensify their search.”
“Leave Kendell and Myles alone. This isn’t their fight.”
He gave her an appraising stare. “So you’ll help me?”
“I can’t help you find the new swamp witch, but if you can make contact, I’ll do what I can to facilitate the negotiation. You’ve already done enough harm to people.”
* * *
Delphine had always been a thorn in h
is paw, but she still had her uses. Colin knew her offer of help was all about maintaining a modicum of control over how the cane was used, but he would deal with that challenge when he came to it. The first priority was to find the damn thing. At least he had a concrete lead, even if he didn’t know the girl’s name, where she lived, or really anything about her other than the fact that she knew how to handle a shotgun. He realized that criterion didn’t narrow the field of Southern women very much.
He pulled his Ford Expedition into the familiar gravel parking area. Unlike his last visits, a gleaming aluminum airboat sporting a powerful V8 engine was moored to the battered dock.
The boat’s pilot rushed up to greet him. “We’re all set to go, Mr. Malveaux. I’ve plotted the most likely location of your island on my GPS. We should be there in less than half an hour.”
“That’s just the start of our search. Did you pack the overnight gear?”
The stocky man had a tan so deep Colin wondered if it was ethnicity or sunbaked. “I’ve got provisions for three days.”
“That young woman will have lived much of her life in the bayou. I find it hard to believe she’d have traveled far after her grandmother’s death.”
The pilot fired up the massive engine, which effortlessly spun the six-foot propeller. “People out here either live their whole lives in the bayou or escape as soon as possible for the city. Either way, we’ll find your answer before our adventure ends.”
Instead of heading toward the river, the pilot swung the shallow draft boat directly toward a mat of water hyacinth and gave the engine all the throttle it could handle. For a moment, Colin thought pilot was all too accurate a title as the man at the controls glided the craft over the foliage as if about to take flight.
Looking back, Colin saw a wide swath of open water where the airboat had cut its path through the foliage. If the witch was still on the island, she’d have plenty of warning of his approach, though, as with her grandmother, the woman probably didn’t need the notification.