Gods of New Orleans

by AJ Sikes

  “We ought to be gettin’ on, Miss Emma,” Lisette said, and her boy’s face told Emma he was thinking the same thing. Emma leaned against the door housing and looked out into the grim humid morning. That same hard and hot wind shot into the cabin then and Emma felt it against her eyes and mouth. Even though she knew it was just fear that drove her, Emma whipped her head to the side. In a flash, she reached for the lever and brought the cabin door closed, feeling her heartbeat settle as the door latched tight.

  She stood and went to the cockpit, letting her gaze rest on Lisette and her son for a moment before sitting down.

  “You ready for this?” she asked.

  “Yes I am, Miss Emma. Yes I am.”

  Emma smiled at Lisette. Then she winked at the boy, who still had a hand up near his face. He didn’t seem to know what she meant by her gesture, so Emma let her face go stone cold again, figuring he’d know tough talk better than soft.

  “Let’s go get your sister, Julien. And then let’s get the hell out of New Orleans.”

  Chapter 34

  The mechanic’s cot in the airship felt just as close and tight as when Aiden had slept in it back when they were coming down from Chicago City. But it was the only safe place he could remember in all of New Orleans.

  He and Mr. Brand spent a few moments in that tunnel, after Aiden ran off from his ma‌—‌from Hatred. When his old boss left him there to deliver his message, the mud men had showed up and gave Aiden a good run. While he’d run, he’d thought about how they’d started out, his folks and him on the airship with Miss Farnsworth and her jazz man and the other Negro. Then, as he’d run down the tunnel, the door to the airship appeared in the wall and he wound up here in the mechanic’s space.

  Aiden had no idea where the ship was, or who even owned it anymore. Still, something about the airship felt right, even though just about everything else in his life felt wrong.

  What had happened to his ma? She went from angry to goofy to crazy and at the end there Aiden figured she’d been all of those things at once.

  And a whole lot worse. She’d called me boy, just like Mother Sophie had.

  Struggling and with his shoulder still aching like hell, Aiden got himself off the cot and went to the hatch. He should find out where the Vigilance was berthed. Maybe the ship wasn’t the safest place after all. He put his good hand on the hatch clasp. Then his mind went sleepy and the night caught up with him. Aiden settled onto the cot. He slowly wrapped himself up in the blanket he’d left there the last time he’d come to hide in the tight space.

  He woke with a start and knew he’d been asleep for a good long while. The engine room felt warmer, like the day had had time to grow. A heavy wind outside buffeted the Vigilance and Aiden rocked in the cot with the swaying of the ship.

  He heard voices then, from inside the cabin; at least three, and he wasn’t able to recognize any of them. He listened and waited. Two heartbeats passed and the engines started up all around him, rumbling and humming heavy and deep.

  ~•~

  In between working the ballast or the radio, Emma kept her hand in her pocket, touching the envelope and tracing the letters of her name with a fingertip. She’d taken it and the one to Aiden out of Brand’s desk in case Lisette or her son got curious.

  Brand, you damn lazy bum. I never should have put a hand on those letters.

  She’d open hers soon, Emma promised herself. And then she had to figure out some way to get the other one to the Conroy kid.

  Just then, Emma startled as she realized she hoped Aiden was close. And that he’d be the same kid he’d been the last time she’d seen him. New Orleans had a way of changing people. Emma knew that better than most, and she knew those changes never really turned out the way you’d like.

  Lisette stirred behind her and Emma looked to see the woman helping her son get settled in the corner of the cabin near Brand’s desk. Julien had a blanket pulled up tight around his chin. Emma tried to send a smile his way, but she felt it only get halfway up her face.

  Turning back to the controls, she focused on the flight ahead. It wasn’t more than a handful of minutes before she got them to the boarding house and set down on the deck. Once they’d been moored she suggested they all get some shuteye.

  “It’ll be a fine thing if we all sleep through the show later, so let’s catch whatever winks we can. Lisette, you and Julien can take the big room on the right. I’ll be across the hall from you. We’ll keep the ship locked up tight just in case, but I don’t think anyone’ll hassle us here on one of Bacchus’s decks.”

  “You sure about that, Miss Emma,” Lisette asked. Her eyes seemed to spin in her head and looked every which way as she spoke. Emma glanced left and right out the cabin windows at the quiet night.

  “I don’t think the Birdman will come after us. He plays for keeps if he plays at all, at least the way I’ve heard it. Since we’ve still got all our eyes in our heads, I think he was just there to scare us. We’re setting up like usual to do a job, so if anybody asks we’ve got plenty to back us up.”

  Lisette nodded and seemed to accept what Emma was saying. Taking Julien’s hand, Lisette led the boy quietly down the hall where they disappeared into the main bunkroom.

  Emma was surprised to find that she almost believed her own words, too.

  The Birdman was just making a showing for Bacchus. He was just incentive. Encouragement.

  That was a word that Frank Nitti had used with her father once. Emma hated herself for thinking it now. She waited a few breaths before going back to the bunk Eddie and Otis had shared on the trip down. She grabbed the pillow there, went back to Brand’s desk and folded herself across it. Sleep came in an instant and stayed with her until the afternoon sun warmed the cabin like an oven. When she woke, she felt the envelopes stabbing her in the side, so she pulled them out of her pocket and stuffed them back in the desk drawer.

  Who cares who finds the damn things.

  A harder wind than before shook the ship and sent currents of heat through every crack and crevice. Emma steadied herself as she stood and went to check the time on the clock in the cockpit.

  Just before 7:00 PM. Time to start the show.

  Taking a breath to settle her hands, Emma started up the engines and went back to wake up Lisette. The woman and her son came out of the bunkroom as Emma got to the corridor entrance.

  “Just about time,” Emma said.

  Lisette nodded and wiped the sleep from her eyes. She went to the windows by Brand’s desk and looked out at the boarding house. Emma rushed to her side when Lisette snapped a hand over her mouth and burst into tears.

  “My baby girl!” she cried and crumbled to her knees, sagging against the wall and sobbing.

  Outside, on the ground, Bacchus and his torpedoes were leading a girl from the boarding house. They stepped down the walk to Bacchus’s sedan, which was waiting at the curb. Another group of girls waited by the front door of the house with the house mother.

  As Emma’s fury built, Bacchus and his group got into the car and drove away. Emma took Lisette’s hand and tried to put some comforting words on her tongue. But all she had to give was rage, and Lisette’s heart was the wrong destination.

  Julien came up beside his mother then. Emma let the woman’s hand go as Lisette held her son close and the sobs shook her. Then the house mother was on the radio asking why the chaperone wasn’t down there to collect the girls. Emma and Julien had to coax and pull and finally force Lisette to her feet, all while the house mother screamed at them over the radio. Finally, Lisette had herself together enough to go and do her part.

  Emma shooed Julien back into the small bunkroom. Then she undid the cabin door and helped Lisette onto the gangway. She followed the woman with her eyes, waiting at every step for the Birdman to show up. But the night stayed calm and silent. Except for the grumbling of the house mother from the street below.

  As Lisette stepped slow and steady down the mooring deck, Emma promised herself they’d
still get the girls out. But she had no idea how they’d do it. Her hand went to her pocket without her even thinking about the letters, and the next instant, Emma was on her feet and backing away from the shimmering wall of the airship cabin.

  ~•~

  Brand stumbles into the Vigilance and lets the curtain drop into place behind him. He has the door at his back, and he remember the last time he was in this position.

  A thousand feet up with nothing but the Chicago City skyline to break my fall.

  Brand doubles over and coughs into his lap. He keeps one hand on his hat so it won’t fall off his head. When he looks up, he sees Miss Farnsworth staring him down like a prize fighter ready to land the last punch of the night. Brand almost wishes she would belt him a good one. Anything to shake the sense that he’s lost the last bit of hope he had left.

  “Miss Farnsworth,” he says, tipping his hat now and lowering his eyes to her shoes. She’s wearing nicer kicks than the last time he saw her, but nothing so fancy as what he knows she should be wearing.

  All the other gods get dolled up in glad rags every chance they get.

  But she’s not like the others, and he knows it. On cue, she proves him right.

  “Brand,” she says. “So you’re back. And right when it looks like I’ll need a helping hand again. Funny how you seem to be here at the right time and still make it feel like the wrong place.”

  “I’m sorry, Miss Farnsworth,” Brand says, still with his eyes on her toes. “I thought about taking a bath, but the other fellas told me not to bother. As much time as we spend in the mud, a guy might as well roll himself in pig slop if he wants to get clean.”

  “That’s not what I meant, Brand, but now that you mention it. . .” She wrinkles her nose at him and steps back a pace, then another, until she’s up against his old desk. He eyes the drawer where he used to keep his bottle. It’s empty, and he knows it. Even if the bottle was still there, it’d be empty, too. After what’s happened to the people who rode this pig down from Chicago City, Brand’s surprised they aren’t all swimming in the mud like Al Conroy.

  “How’s the kid? Conroy? Is he okay?” he asks.

  “I don’t know,” she says, folding her arms and softening her face a bit. “I heard he’s in trouble with the house mothers, but that’s all I know about it.

  “the house mothers? Dammit. What’d he do?”

  “I said that’s all I know about it. Now what are you doing here? What do you want?”

  Before Brand can reply, Miss Farnsworth dips a hand into her pocket and pulls out the envelopes.

  “You can have ‘em, Brand. I don’t want them anymore. I don’t know where Aiden is and I don’t care what you think I’m supposed to be. Take ‘em back!”

  Brand shifts his eyes left and right, but they keep going back to the envelopes pinched between Miss Farnsworth’s fingers.

  “I‌—‌”

  There’s a shout from outside, a woman talking sharp and fast. Brand spins around and sees a white lady, one of the house mothers. She’s on the mooring deck with her hands on another woman, one with dark skin. That woman has a crowd of girls behind her like ducklings. Brand’s seen the house mother before. Just the other day. She was with Bacchus when Brand made a delivery.

  Miss Farnsworth whisper at him from across the cabin. “You’d better get out of here, Brand. Go on. Scram.”

  Brand doesn’t waste a second. He lifts the curtain, ducks out of the cabin, and stalks back into the mud tunnels behind New Orleans. He’s learned to inhabit the place pretty well since he arrived. Even the guys who moan and groan for a piece of him don’t bother him anymore.

  “Hi, fellas,” Brand says to the mud men that come out of the walls. Their hands reach, but he swats them aside like he’s learned to do. They don’t really want much. Just somebody to remember them. That’d give them a reason to care enough to wake up every morning and say hello to the day.

  Brand has his own reasons, and he just left one of them on an airship with a storm of who knows what coming her way. The other one, though . . .

  Conroy. Hang in their, pal. Just give me a call, and I’ll come runnin’. Ol’ Mitch will be there.

  Brand shuffles through the tunnel thinking about Conroy and knowing he can’t promise the kid anything. But he wants to, so he says it just the same.

  “I’ll be there, Conroy. If you can be there for me, too.”

  ~•~

  Emma stuffed the envelopes into the top drawer of Brand’s desk and went to the cabin door. She crossed her fingers that nobody outside, not Lisette, the house mother, or the girls, had seen Brand. He’d scooted like she told him, but he could just pop back in any second and throw another wrench in the works. Emma figured Lisette had to know about things like gods and monsters, but Brand was somewhere in between and would probably put the woman right over onto her backside if he pulled his jack-in-the-box routine now.

  Out on the mooring deck, the house mother gave Lisette two earfuls and then some, just for good measure. Emma waited until the house mother was gone before opening the cabin door. Lisette came into the cabin with a beaten look on her face. Emma had a question on her tongue, but she waited until they’d reached the gala house and Lisette had taken the girls inside.

  When Lisette came back, Julien greeted her at the cabin door and stayed by her side as she stepped on unsteady feet. Emma took a breath and went to work on her.

  “Are we doing this or aren’t we?”

  “What you mean, Miss Emma?” Lisette asked, drawing up short in the middle of the cabin. “Doin’ what? What we got left to be doin’?”

  Before the tears could start, Emma went to Lisette and gripped her by the arms.

  “Sister, now isn’t the time to go soft in the head. Your little girl is in that house and some New York City fat cat is planning to buy her for a handful of folding money.

  Lisette shocked her by knocking Emma’s hands aside.

  “You think I don’ know it?” she yelled in Emma’s face. “You think I don’ know Mr. B got my baby Juliette in that house and ‘bout to put her up on the auction block?”

  “I know you know it, and I know you want to stop it. Or you did before Bacchus put our plan out to pasture. So now we need a new one. Fine. Let’s figure it out.”

  Lisette’s eyes glistened and her lip quivered, but she held it in and stepped over to Brand’s desk where she sat in a rush, like she’d have fallen over if the chair wasn’t there to catch her.

  “How?” she asked as Emma came closer to her. “How we gon’ do this?”

  Emma didn’t have an answer right away. She took in Lisette’s clothes, the standard dress and heels of a chaperone, a bonnet that had come untied with all of the woman’s sobbing and shivering with fright or rage or both.

  “You got those dresses,” Emma said, suddenly seeing the way out of the mess they were in. “The ones from my closet.”

  Lisette’s eyes went round with recognition and she almost let her lips curl into a smile. “Yeah. Yeah, we did get them dresses. So let’s go get them dresses on and then we go in there an’ get my Juliette. That what you thinkin’ Miss Emma?”

  “Yeah. That’s what I’m thinking, Lisette.”

  “Okay then,” Lisette said. “But it ain’ like to bein’ easy as that. We can’ jus’ waltz on in and out and again. People be seein’ us come in and won’ go lettin’ us out we try an’ take Juliette out their hands.”

  “They won’t see us coming, sister,” Emma said, her eyes rounding as a rush and drive flooded her chest. “The plan is we get dolled up right. We go in there and make a ruckus somehow. Everybody’ll be going this way and that. None of Bacchus’s boys will go shooting up a room full of his best paying guests. We get the room going crazy and then we get the girls and run like hell.”

  Lisette nodded fast and stood up faster. “Yeah. We get my Juliette back. And then we run.”

  “And the other girls,” Emma reminded, putting a note of caution into her voice. Liset
te picked up on it and nodded again, but she kept her face firm and cold.

  The women each took a dress and got ready in the bunkroom. Lisette helped Emma put her hair right with some extra pins and a brush she had in her handbag. Emma didn’t look the part of a proper flapper, but it would have to do. They took turns in the washroom putting on a little of the face paint Lisette carried, too.

  “Julien,” Lisette said as she and Emma came back into the cabin, “you keep this ship locked up. Hear me? But you keep an eye. When you see me an’ your sister comin’, you open that door and be ready to close it just as quick. Mr. B gon’ have his boys on our tail.”

  “Yes, Momma,” the boy said, his eyes flashing left and right and that hand still hovering around his collar.

  ~•~

  Emma and Lisette got held up at the gala house door, but the one-time chaperone worked her magic with the toughs there.

  “Mr. Bacchus say he want me inside,” Lisette explained. “My little girl on the block tonight and I’m s’posed to see it. It’s Mr. B’s parting gift to me, he says. See my little girl off proper.”

  The tough didn’t do more than nod and get out of the way. Emma and Lisette stepped inside and took in the room. In that instant, Emma knew they were sunk. She and Lisette stood at the back of a throng in glad rags all packed in like sardines with that sweet stink of hooch dripping from every tongue.

  Emma spun in place as a group came in the door behind her. She ended up face-to-face with the flapper from the Rising Sun.

  “Well,” the woman said. She took a puff from the cigarette she clutched in one hand. Emma stared at her, thinking the woman held in a mouthful of venom. But she blew the smoke out of the side of her mouth and into the crowd beyond. “I do think you’ll want to keep your hands to yourself this time,” she said while tossing a nod at the men standing to her left. Emma looked at the bruisers and recognized the two doormen from the Rising Sun.