by Eric Wilder
“What in the living hell!” J.P. said.
Around the house and tree grew a wild garden of vines, creepers, and so many colorful nightshades and other wild blooms that their perfume was almost intoxicating. Foxes, rabbits, squirrels and other animals played on the grass in front of the house, and birds of vivid colors flew in the blue sky above us. Nothing seemed normal.
“It’s like a fairyland cartoon,” Abba said. “It wouldn’t surprise me if an elf scurried across the path in front of us. What is this place?”
“We’ve crossed over,” Rory said.
“You mean we’re dead?” Abba asked.
Rory didn’t answer.
“We ain’t dead,” J.P. said. “At least I’m not.”
“It does seem like we’re in another world,” Abba said. “What do we do?”
“Knock on the door,” I said.
Without waiting for the others to follow me, I walked up the path and knocked. A pale little man with a pencil mustache and smarmy smile opened the door. A French accent flavored the words pouring from his mouth.
“Please come in. We have been expecting you.”
I motioned the others to join me before following him. We entered a room far larger than the outside of the house implied. A very large black woman clad in a yellow floor-length dress that seemed from another era stood behind a table, her palms flat on its surface.
On her head, she wore a matching tignon, a turban-like headcover free women of color were required to wear during the Pre-Civil War Era in New Orleans. It was soon apparent that she wore the tignon because she liked it and not because someone required her to. When we’d entered the room, she glanced up from what she’d been doing.
“I’m Tubah Jones,” she said. “We’ve been waiting for you.”
“You knew we were coming?” I asked.
“From the moment you pulled Exethelon from the wizard’s heart and started the fire.”
I glanced at J.P. to gauge his reaction to her remark. I could tell by his inquisitive glance that it had caught his detective’s attention.
“Yes, I pulled the dagger from Father Fred’s heart, the fire already burning.”
“Exethelon, as you now know, is magical. You were destined to pull it from someone’s dead heart. It became yours the moment you entered the room.”
“Even so . . .”
She stopped me with a wave of her hand. “You thought it would be better for you if the building and everything in it burned to the ground.”
“I’ll admit the thought crossed my mind. Doesn’t matter because I never would have done it.”
“Exethelon senses your every wish and reacts accordingly. Though you didn’t know you started the fire, the simple truth is that you did.”
I opened my mouth to defend myself. Realizing I could never prove or disprove to anyone what my thoughts were at a particular time, I simply closed it and shook my head.
“You didn’t know about the dagger’s power when you first touched it. Now that you do, I fully expect you will act accordingly.”
“Of one thing I’m pretty sure,” J.P. said. “Wyatt didn’t kill Father Fred or the two guards.”
“No he didn’t,” she said. “They were killed by a dark spell I cast on them.”
“You admit to murdering them?”
“Do you intend to take me into custody and then charge me with casting a spell?”
“You either murdered them, or you didn’t,” J.P. said.
“When you were young, did you ever tell your mother you wished she were dead?”
“If I did, I didn’t mean it,” he said.
“What if she had died? Would you have been responsible?”
J.P. thought a moment before answering. “There’s a difference between saying something in a moment of anger and casting a spell that kills somebody.”
“If I admitted that I killed someone by casting upon them a magical death spell, do you believe a judge and jury would find me guilty?”
“Probably not,” he said.
“The man you call Father Fred and his two guards were evil. They committed more atrocities than you’d ever believe, and were the embodiment of pure malevolence. I didn’t kill them. I simply cast a spell that resulted in their deaths. Trust me when I tell you that the world is a far better place now that they’re gone.”
“What happened to the prisoners they kept at the old orphanage?” I asked.
“Released and transported to safety,” she said.
“Transported?”
Her nod was the only answer to my question.
“Wyatt and I met a man who was a victim of Father Fred,” Abba said. “He told us the false priest was a slaver and a cannibal. We haven’t talked to J.P. about it. He doesn’t know how evil Father Fred was. Wyatt and I do.”
“But you’re not here because of Father Fred.”
“We’re looking for a young woman. Rory told us you might know where we can find her,” Abba said.
Rory nodded when Tubah Jones said, “I’m very impressed with your craftsmanship. I’m over two hundred years old, and I’ve known many sword makers during my lifetime. You are the best of them all.” She returned her gaze to Abba. “I know of the young woman of whom you speak. I also know where she is.”
“Will you share that information with us?” I said.
“You are here because I need your help. I have a problem I cannot solve alone.”
“Then please tell us,” I said.
“In due time. Are you hungry?”
“Starved,” Abba said. “All we’ve had for awhile is trail mix and jerky.”
“Good,” Tubah Jones said. “The table is ready in the kitchen.”
She led us through the house that seemed to have endless rooms. Much like her dress, the kitchen reminded me of one from Antebellum New Orleans. The table was large and could easily have accommodated twenty or more people. Made of wood, it looked as if it were an antique or a replica of an antique.
Bowls of steaming food waited for us on the table; potatoes, carrots, and practically every vegetable dish imaginable. There was no meat. Tubah Jones explained.
“We who live in this house are all vegetarians. I hope you don’t mind.”
“Everything smells wonderful,” Abba said. “Who else lives here?”
“My husband Boris and I have many children. You saw some of them playing in the front yard when you arrived.”
“We saw no children,” Abba said.
As if on cue, a boy and a girl, clowning and having a good time, entered the kitchen. When the girl pushed the boy, he transformed before our eyes into a cocker spaniel puppy and began barking at her.
The girl transformed into a kitten, cuffed the cocker with a paw, and then ran out of the kitchen, the puppy chasing after her. I blinked, not believing what I had seen. J.P., Abba, and Rory could only stare at the door through which they had disappeared.
“Boris, the children and I are shifters,” she said.
She laughed when J.P. said, “You mean like a werewolf?”
“If we wanted to be,” she said. “It’s dark outside and the night’s cold. Let’s go in by the fire.”
“It can’t be dark yet,” Abba said.
Tubah pulled back a curtain so that we could see outside.
“Oh, but it is,” she said.
The room had thick rugs on the floor, overstuffed chairs and couches, and a fireplace nearby with a crackling fire warming the air. We gathered around Tubah who was apparently intent on telling us something.
“You are here because you are seeking a young woman. She is alive, at least bodily, though just barely.”
“Please tell us where to find her,” I said.
“She is with Sister Gertrude in the convent known as Sisters of the Mist. Desire, like all the other prisoners, kept there, is in grave danger.”
“Desire is a prisoner?” Abba asked.
Tubah nodded. “The convent is a place of evil, the young women taken there u
nder false pretenses. Desire, like the others, thought she was joining a sisterhood to serve Christ as a cloistered nun. Now, those women are prostitutes and nuns of the Devil. Desire’s situation is even worse.”
“The convent is a whorehouse?” J.P. asked.
“Run by Sister Gertrude; the other Sisters of the Mist vampires.”
“You have to be kidding,” Abba said.
“I’m not.”
“How is Desire’s situation worse than being forced into prostitution?” I asked.
“She is also a host to the vampires. They feed on her blood. She has been slowly slipping away since she arrived at the convent. Her mind has all but left her, and that is quite possibly her only salvation at this point.”
“You have to help us save her,” I said.
Tubah shook her head. “No, you have to help me. That is why I summoned you here. The convent is as large as a castle and even surrounded by a large moat. It resists even my darkest magic and is all but impenetrable.”
“Why is this castle so important to you?” Abba asked.
“As I said, the convent is a place of pure evil. It’s built atop the gate to hell, and the entrance to hell itself lies in the dark basement of the castle.”
“I’m having a hard time believing this,” Abba said.
“Believe it. A boulder blocks the gateway and keeps the demons of darkness in the netherworld. Every one-hundred-sixty years, on the night of All Saint’s Eve, this changes.”
“What happens?” I asked.
“If no one blocks the boulder from being moved, demons are released and havoc ensues. This country has yet to fully recover from the harm caused the last time this happened.”
“The Civil War?” I said.
“It could have been averted peacefully. It resulted in the most American deaths ever for a single war; almost as many as all the other wars combined.”
“And if the demons are released tomorrow night?”
“I can only imagine,” she said. “Will you help?”
“I’m in,” I said.
“Me too,” J.P. said.
“As am I,” Rory said.
“Count me in,” Abba said.
“If the castle is impenetrable, then how will we get in?” J.P. asked.
Instead of answering his question, she asked, “Do you believe in destiny?”
“Sure,” he said.
“As Rory told you before you left New Orleans, this is a quest. Each of you has a purpose, and each must make a vital decision before All Saints Eve ends tomorrow at midnight.”
The window was partially open. Something was howling in the swamp beyond the house.
“What creature is making that noise?” Abba asked.
“One of the People. Would you like to see?” Tubah said.
“Is it dangerous?” Abba asked.
“Not if I accompany you.”
She led us outside, into the darkness. There was neither fog nor rain, only the golden light of the fullest moon I’d ever seen. Hundreds of white, saucer-sized moonflowers had bloomed, their perfume filling the air. The howling stopped, though something was rustling in the bushes beyond the house.
“Barzoom,” Tubah said. “Show yourself.”
None of us was prepared for the creature that exited the bushes.
“Oh my dear God!” Abba said, taking a step backward as her hand went to her mouth.
Chapter 34
When the creature stepped from the bushes, my own eyes probably grew as large as J.P. and Rory’s did. Like Abba, we all backed up a step.
“Do not be afraid,” Tubah said. “He won’t hurt you.”
The big fellow stood every inch of eight feet tall, stooped, lanky, and muscular. A thatch of brownish-gray hair sprouted from the rear portion of his large head and draped down his hairy back. His fingers and toes were human-like and featured long nails. His big eyes were yellow and accentuated a mouth filled with fangs and highlighted bone structure causing him to look permanently angry.
Though he was anything but human, his legs and torso were human-like, and thinly covered with hair. Almost no hair covered his extra-long arms, and the bare skin accentuated his bulging muscles. The creature called Barzoom was quite naked, and it was obvious he was a male. He dropped to one knee in front of Tubah, bowed his head in respect, and touched her hand.
“These are the brave souls I’m entrusting you to protect,” she said.
After rolling his big yellow eyes, he gave us a glance and nodded. When he opened his immense jaws, a high-pitched wail emanated from deep in his barrel chest.
“Rise, and return to your people,” she said. These warriors leave at dawn for the castle of the Sisters of the Mist.”
Without a sound, he melded into the darkness. After he’d returned to the underbrush surrounding Tubah’s house, he began the unnatural howl we’d heard in the swamp. Others like him joined in the chorus. Though I’d seen the creature up close that was making the sound, its eerie howls caused the hair on the back of my neck to stand on end.
A moment passed, and then J.P. asked, “Is he the Swamp Monster?”
His question brought a smile to Tubah’s mouth. “You are one of only a handful of individuals that has ever seen one of the People up close. But don’t worry; no one will ever believe you.”
“Hell,” J.P. said. “I wasn’t six feet away from him, and I’m still not sure I believe my own eyes. One thing, though.”
“You have a question?”
“Every report I ever heard about the Swamp Monster said they smelled to high heavens,” J.P. said.
“Much like skunks, they have scent glands,” Tubah said. “The foul odor is emitted when they feel they are in imminent danger. You do not want to be anywhere near when that happens.”
“I’ll take your word for it,” J.P. said.
“Let’s return to the fire, and I’ll brief you on what you need to do to save Desire, and to stop the incursion of demons from hell.”
Late fall weather outside Tubah’s house had chilled me to the bone. The crackling fire felt like heaven as I sank into an overstuffed chair. J.P. and Rory shared a couch, and Abba sat on the stone ledge in front of the fire, warming her hands. Rory broke out the flask of Southern Comfort.
“Mind if I have a nip?” he asked.
“Only if you don’t plan to share,” she said.
The whiskey flask was soon changing hands. Tubah didn’t speak until everyone, including her, had drunk from it. Finally, she handed it to me.
“No thanks,” I said. “I’m an alcoholic, and don’t drink anymore.”
“Because of my magic, tonight is different. We have many important things to discuss, and it’s best done if everyone is intoxicated. But do not worry. I promise you will suffer no lasting effects from the alcohol.”
I took the flask and had a drink, the whiskey soothing my nerves like a dear old friend as it warmed my throat. I was quickly in an almost forgotten state of euphoria as I returned the flask to Rory.
“You each have a specific task to perform,” Tubah said. “If you fail, the mission will fail. Fate will call upon each of you to make an important and tortuous decision. How you resolve the problem will affect you as a person forever.”
Abba said, “It all sounds so ominous. What exactly do you mean?”
“You’ll each know what it means when it happens.”
“Then tell us what each of us needs to do,” J.P. said.
“You, Jean Pierre, have an important role to play. You won’t be accompanying the others to the castle.”
“But they need me,” he said.
“The task you perform will either result in a successful mission or doom it to failure. Are you ready to hear what it is we need you to do?”
“Yes ma’am,” he said.
“The Convent of the Sisters of the Mist is located so deep in the swamp that no man can ever find it. On Halloween night all that changes.”
“Tell me,” he said.
�
��Though vampires populate the castle, Sister Gertrude is human. Well, at least almost human. As was Father Fred, she is also involved in slavery, the sex trade, and every evil aspect of human trafficking.”
“And the castle?” I said.
“Little more than a brothel. Like Desire, Sister Gertrude forces her victims to help act out her clients’ perverse fantasies. Some of them, like Desire, provide sustenance for the vampires.”
“But she’s still alive?” I said.
“She has suffered dearly, her body in an advanced state of decline. She has changed so drastically that you may have a difficult time recognizing her. She is, however, very much alive.”
J.P. could see how much Tubah’s description of Desire’s condition was upsetting me and thankfully changed the subject.
“How do her clients find their way to the castle?” he asked.
“Sister Gertrude owns an exclusive gentlemen’s club on Bourbon Street that caters to much more than the viewing of naked ladies. An interspatial portal connects the club and the castle.”
“What does it have to do with Halloween night?” Abba asked.
“Every year, Sister Gertrude hosts the Vampire Ball on the night of All Saint’s Eve. The ball takes place at the castle, and the guests are transported there.”
“And you want me to be one of the gentlemen transported through the portal,” J.P. said.
“All of Sister Gertrude’s regular clients attend the ball. Management also invites certain high rollers who happen to be in the club. It is up to you to make sure that you are invited.”
“Hell, this sounds more like fun than a job,” J.P. said.
“Believe me when I tell you that the monsters you will be dealing with are deadly serious,” Tubah said. “If Sister Gertrude’s people think you are a plant, they will kill you.”
“Got it,” J.P. said, his smile disappearing.
“The ball is a masquerade affair befitting of Halloween. You will be in costume. I will see that you get to the club. Getting an invitation to the Vampire’s Ball is dependent on your acting ability. It is one of the reasons you were chosen, and I have no doubt that you will succeed.”