“How do you know Mona?” Richard said, breaking through his thoughts.
“I help her solve cases.” Junebug couldn’t keep a twinge of pride out of his voice.
“Alright, I believe you.” Richard said. “Ain’t nothing but crazy shit been happening to me lately.” His lips curled upward in a wry smile. “Why I shouldn’t I believe in a ghost with superpowers?”
At this Junebug laughed outright. “First time I ever heard that one.”
“I guess I better find another place to stay, at least for a few days.”
“What’s wrong with right here?”
Richard raised his brows. “You kidding? I can’t afford to stay here. Especially with all my work gone. That was a month’s worth of pay.”
“I’ll get Mona to take care of that for you.” Junebug reached in his pocket, pulled out five gold coins and slid them across the table. “Put this with what you got.”
“Man, I can’t accept this.”
“Yeah, you can. You need a room, and I got the coins.”
Richard picked the coins up and pocketed them. “Thanks. I’ll pay you back ... Ghosts ain’t supposed to have coins either.” Junebug burst out laughing and Richard joined him.
“Let’s have another round,” the ghost said, still smiling. He raised his hand to signal the waitress.
——
They were coming down the stairs when Curtis spotted him. “Hey baby, there’s Richard,” he said. He eyed the black man sitting across from Richard. That’s the same pilot I saw with Julia! Ki bagay si?
“He’s with Junebug!” Mona said. She felt a rush of excitement and relief. Maybe he hadn’t abandoned her after all!
“Junebug?”
“He’s wearing a different body,” Mona said this casually, as if she was discussing the chance of rain. Junebug saw them and waved them over.
They sat down and Curtis gazed at Junebug with a furrowed brow. This was his new normal. He had to accept it, to embrace it even, for the sake of his own sanity.
“How long you been here?” Mona asked.
“Since last night,” Junebug said, looking sheepish.He took a sip of his drink to hide his discomfort. “I was gonna knock on your door, but I didn’t wanna wake you up.” The waitress walked over, and the friends ordered club sandwiches and iced tea.
“Well, I’m glad you two got a chance to meet.”
“I was just telling him that I was supposed to hook up with you and Curtis tonight.” Richard said. “Wanna know how we met? The pigs came down on me at my crib.” He leaned forward and lowered his voice. “this man here,” he hooked his thumb at Junebug, “he saved my life.” Curtis and Mona listened intently as Richard told them of his harrowing escape and rescue, with Junebug looking pleased as punch.
Mona grinned at Junebug. “Show off.” The ghost managed to look diffident and pleased at the same time.
Curtis eyed them, trying to ignore his feelings of jealousy. He still hadn’t gotten used to the chemistry between Junebug and Mona and doubted that he ever would.
“The pigs busted my lock.” Richard finished. “All my drawings are at my crib. I hate to ask, but—”
“I’ll take care of it,” Mona said, cutting him off.
His light-brown eyes were suddenly full of concern. “I don’t wanna put you in any danger.”
Mona smiled. “No need to worry. I can’t handle myself just fine.”
“Thanks, I appreciate it.”
The waitress brought their orders and they dug in, chatting about this and that between bites. The sandwich meat was spiced just right, and the tea was sweet and cold. Mona imagined what everyone else saw, looking at them, just four good friends breaking bread and enjoying each other’s company. She said a silent prayer that there would be many more moments just like this.
A dark woman walked into the restaurant, dressed in a wine-colored dress with lace gloves a shade lighter than her garment, and ankle length boots. She glanced around, spotted Junebug and sauntered over.
“Hey,” Julia said. She smiled and her cheeks dimpled.
Junebug stood. “Hey baby.” He kissed her on the cheek Inside him, his host Renaldo was all aquiver. “Everybody, this here’s Julia … that’s Mona … Curtis … and that’s Richard.”
Julia smiled. “Nice to meet y’all.”
“You want something to eat?” Junebug asked.
Julia shook her head. “No, can we get a drink at the bar?
“Alright ... I’ll see y’all later.”
“Bye Junebug,” Mona said.
Richard watched Julia twist away. “Man, she is fine.” He turned back to Mona, his brow furrowed. “Ain’t he supposed to be a ghost? How he’d get a woman like that, and what’s he gonna do with her?”
At this, Mona laughed outright. “What you think?”
“Damn,” Richard shook his head. “I thought I was strange.”
Curtis watched Julia and Junebug take a seat at the bar. He’d just met Julia Dearborn, of this he was sure, even though Junebug hadn’t spoken her last name. I’ll write up my report. Dearborn can do what he wants with it. He got to his feet. “Baby, I got to meet Harold. You want me to drop you off?”
“Yeah,” Mona stood, “Richard, I need your address.”
Richard made eye contact with their petite waitress and waved her over. “Can I get a pen and scroll?”
“Sure ...” She brought the writing tools over and Richard scribbled his address down and handed it to
Mona. “Thanks baby,” he said, smiling up at the server.
She smiled back. “Anytime.”
Mona rolled her eyes. But she was smiling too. “We’re in room 203 if you need us.”
“Alright, cool.” Richard said, barely glancing at Mona, and then to the waitress, “What’s your name?”
_____
Chapter 20: The Airship
They floated through the night sky, miles above Monterrey. The airship was cylinder shaped and overlaid with a metal filigreed. A propeller at the stern had a crank that was turned by human hands. Carved flaps on the port and starboard sides enhanced its buoyancy, as did the steam-filled, cigar-shaped balloon above it. Airships were normally used by cities for overseas travel. But a few wealthy citizens, like DA Joe McIntyre owned private airships. His guests milled about the airship, glasses of champagne in their hands. They’d already had an expensive dinner, and the voyage on the airship was his special treat. The DA was given to grand displays.
DA Joe McIntyre was a short heavyset man with green eyes and ears that seemed too large for his head. Although few knew it, McIntyre ran the political machine behind White Men United. He was only in his forties, but he had wealth left to him by his great-great grandfather, coins made from slave labor. To the DA’s left stood Mayor Lindsey Franks, a fiftyish white man with black hair, watery blue eyes, and a thin mouth, and to his right Councilman Henry Burr.
Franks tried to look pleased, but only managed to look constipated. He didn’t trust airships and would have much preferred to be safely on the ground. But he didn’t want to offend the DA, since Joe McIntyre had bankrolled his campaign, helping him to squeeze through with a narrow victory.
All the guests, most of them white but with a sprinkling of black and brown faces, were members of White Men United. The politics of white supremacy were a cover for what they really sought. Power. And they were manipulating working class whites to this end. The Grand Experiment had ushered in new labor laws and higher wages, changes which meant less coin and control for the wealthy. But there were whites who were still envious of the progress black and brown folks had made, envious and full of hatred. They longed for the good old days of racial and gender discrimination to return in all their glory, not realizing this reversal would mean fewer coins in their pockets. They were playing into the wealthy grasping hands of the real brains behind WMU. Suppression of black and brown citizens was only part of the sweeping economic changes they had in mind.
Franks shifted his eye
s to Burr. All he’d wanted was a slice of the political pie. Now, he was ensnared in the DA’s schemes. Burr was bad enough. Franks never knew what the man was thinking, but Joe McIntyre gave him the chills. The man was a sociopath. Franks moved his gaze to McIntyre and inadvertently met his eyes. The DA smiled and Franks looked away. Madness capered behind those green eyes.
Henry Burr eyed McIntyre, then Franks. He’d begun to hate the DA, who he blamed for his troubles. Franks he dismissed. The man was a spineless toad. I’m one to talk. I’m nothing but a coward myself.
Burr sipped his drink, studying the faces of the guests: rich, spoiled, corrupt, and so sure of themselves. In the next moment, he caught the eye of a buxom red-haired woman in the crowd, standing beside a man engaged in conversation. She smiled her invitation and Burr looked away. He thought of Tonia, her eyes, her smile. She was lost to him forever. Last night he’d walked past her, and she’d called out to him. He’d kept walking, his face burning red with shame. Later that night, Burr wept, his head buried in a curled arm, crying like he hadn’t cried since he was a child.
He was forced to spend his nights tracking his prey and he refused to put Tonia’s life in danger. No matter how badly he wanted her. The Council, dat’s what the daemons called them. The Council ... Joan. Karla. Joseph. Mark. Consuela. José.
Their faces and favored locations had appeared inside his mind—that and more. He’d been ordered to murder them. Murder them or spend his remaining days as a wolf. The daemons had told him that the Council were werewolves too, but that his strength was greater. Still, it was best to catch each one alone and, if possible, end their lives quickly with a musket shot to the head. Yet they always seemed to travel in groups of two and three.
Like wolves in a pack.
Yet Burr wondered if, even after he finished his hideous task, would he be ever free? And what about Isis? What would become of her?
McIntyre promised not to hurt her, but I don’t trust him. Yet he could not bring her back to his house. It was diseased.
“Enjoying yourself?” Joe asked. His voice pulled Burr from his musings.
“Immensely,” Franks said, “Thank you for inviting me.” Burr smiled, a smile that didn’t quite reach his gray-green-eyes, and nodded.
A short elderly black man with thinning gray hair, dressed in a white shirt and black pants with suspenders, was circulating the room with a carafe of champagne, refilling the guests’ glasses.
“You think it’s a good idea to keep that darkie around?” Franks asked.
“William has been with my family since I was boy,” the DA replied curtly. “He knows his place, and I trust him with my life.”
William made his way over to the three men. “Refill your glasses, gentlemen?” he said, smiling. They held out their glasses for him to pour.
As soon as he’d finished, the DA raised his voice. “I’d like to make an announcement.” The room fell silent. “I know that you, like me, have been very dissatisfied with Governor Shirley Mekins.” There were murmurs of approval. “I believe the time has come for a new leader to take her place. And it is my pleasure to introduce him. Please raise your glass in congratulation to our next governor: The Honorable Henry Burr!”
There was a smattering of applause. A portly white man with a gray beard and moustache spoke up. “Will he be running during the next term?”
“He will be replacing Governor Mekins during this term,” McIntyre said, smiling widely.
Burr gulped his wine, trying not to look shocked. He’d been blindsided. The little bastard never said one word to me! Knowing glances passed among the guests, but none of them looked surprised. There was more applause. Dey cheering for the murder of North America’s most powerful politician! Dey crazy, non? He’d escaped one prison only to find himself inside another. Burr inclined his head, forcing himself to smile, and raised his glass.
Inside, he felt like dying.
_____
Chapter 21: Deadly Encounters
Mona climbed the steps of Richard’s apartment building and walked inside. He’s on the first floor. Flat A-5. The closer she got to his flat, the stronger it became. A residual energy, hot and bitter, lingering in the hallway. Mona could taste it, feel it crawling over her skin, a synergy of Richard’s spirit and whatever it was that had attacked him.
Be careful.
She stopped at his door. It was open, and two teenagers were bent over Richard’s paintings. “HEY!”
They looked up, startled, then ran from the apartment a drawing under each arm. “STOP!” Mona’s voice was a clarion call, unnaturally louder and deeper than a normal human voice. “PUT THEM BACK!” Doors along the hallway opened and faces peered out.
The boys froze in their tracks. They turned and walked back into the flat, snatching fearful glances at her. Mona stepped away from the door, and they walked inside giving her a wide berth, carefully put the paintings down and raced from the apartment and out the building. Mona waited until they were gone, then walked to the door. The synergy was stronger here, leaving an acrid taste in her mouth.
“Reveal.” Red and blue sketches appeared … Richard walking to his door … the Constables … his familiars … a diaphanous man— I can see him!
He vanished, and a disembodied hand reached through the open door for her throat. Mona hissed and leaped back. “End now!”
The hand vanished. The scene froze, and then the figures disappeared as well. With a pounding heart, Mona pulled the door shut and whispered a spell to lock it.
She hurried from the building.
——
“I might have a line on those murders.” Curtis had picked Harold up and they were en route to the contact’s house. He’d struggled over just how much to tell Harold and decided to feel him out first.
“That was quick,” Harold said.
“I’m not sure if this guy did it, only that sorcery was involved.”
“Who’s the suspect?” Excitement crept into Harold’s voice. “We gotta at least bring him in for questioning.”
“Yeah, I guess.”
Harold turned his head to stare at Curtis incredulously. “You guess? Man, what’s with you? You can’t let a killer run free! I don’t give a shit if he’s a sorcerer, a magician or a belly dancer!”
“All those Constables he took out, they murdered civilians.”
Harold’s face turned red. “That’s unconfirmed. The DA—”
“Man, don’t feed me that bullshit!” Curtis exploded. “You know they did it!”
“So, we just let this guy—whoever he is—be judge, jury and executioner?”
“Yeah, we do. Until things change. Until the next white Constable thinks twice about murdering an innocent black or brown civilian.
“D-a-m-n. I see why you quit the force.”
“Harold, we been friends a long time,” There was still anger in Curtis’ voice, but now it was tempered with sadness. “But you got a blind spot when it comes to racism, like a lot of white folks. You don’t understand what it feels like when you see a Constable murder somebody that looks like you. And just walk away. And you wonder if next time it’ll be you, your son, your daughter, your mother, your father. I guess you gotta look like me to understand, n’est-ce pas?”
Harold swallowed. “I’m here, ain’t I?” the anger had fled from his voice too. Now, he sounded tired, “tracking down evidence to help your people.”
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