One Hundred Saints

by Yolanda Olson

  Who do I take? I wondered tiredly, placing my face in my hands. I was so close to being done but I was also tired too. The remorse after ninety six saints still hadn’t set in so I knew that four more would affect me even less.

  Was I a monster for what I believed in or was I just a man who knew that everyone has to die at some point and sending them off on a greater purpose was the best thing for them?

  In their last few breaths, they had all seen me as the devil in disguise; I was waiting for the one that would see me as a savior and understand that I had done something great for them, as well as myself.

  Behind me in the distance somewhere, I could hear the sounds of children laughing, and I knew I would have to get to work. First, I wanted to go to the market and see if it was open. The purpose was to shake the hand of the man whose son had become my most recent saint and give him the money that Marie had paid me for his bones and blood. I wouldn’t tell him who I was or why I was giving him the money, but it was my custom to pay the families, if I could find them, for the use of their loved ones.

  Would it ever be enough to halt their mourning? No, but that wasn’t the point of it. It was to give them some kind of comfort for their sacrifice.

  I got to my feet and slung my back over my shoulder. When I turned around, I almost slammed into Emmie who I didn’t even know had been standing behind me.

  “Brings back memories, doesn’t it?” she asked softly.

  “I told you to stay put,” I replied harsher than I meant to. My tone didn’t seem to bother her, instead she just walked past me and leaned against one of the trees and looked at the river.

  “I know,” she said with a loud sigh. Emmie turned and leaned against the tree, her arms across her chance, giving me a sidelong glance. “I just don’t believe you when you say you’ll come back for me tomorrow.”

  “Emmie, go back to the hotel. I told you I would come for you tomorrow and I will.”

  She held my gaze to see if I would break it first or look away because that would mean I was lying. What she didn’t understand was that the life I started to live after she left, enabled me to put on such a spectacular façade, that no one would ever know when I was telling the truth unless I showed them.

  “Eight sharp, Grimm. Otherwise I’m coming to find you,” she finally said, holding up a warning finger.

  “Eight sharp,” I confirmed. “Come on; let me walk you back to the hotel.”

  She glanced out at the Mississippi River one more time, before she nodded and fell into step beside me. From the direction we were coming in, we would have to pass Marie’s shop and I knew she would see us if she wasn’t busy doing a reading. I could only hope she did; I would give her a nod as a false confirmation of her request, but also let her see me with Emily. It would be a sure way to keep her and her dogs at bay and give me a chance to either get her out of this damn place or keep her inside of me forever.

  I let her chatter away the entire way back to La Rue Chateau. I responded every now and then with an agreement or surprise of some sort to let her know that I was interested in what she was saying. When the moment came to walk past Marie’s Cove of Voodoo, I made sure to keep Emily on the side furthest away from the door; especially when I saw that Marie was standing outside talking to a would be patron.

  “Ah, there he is now!” she exclaimed loudly.

  Emily started to slow her pace so we could stop and talk to Marie, but I put a hand on her elbow, shot the voodoo priestess a dirty look, and crossed the street with her immediately. A few cars honked angrily at us, but I didn’t care. If Marie was pointing me out to someone it was for spiritual purposes and that was a part of me that Emily wouldn’t have to see or know about just yet.

  “You know that crazy old lady?” Emmie asked me curiously as we weaved past a couple of parked cars and onto the sidewalk.

  “Sort of,” I replied through grit teeth as I let go of her elbow. “Just keep walking, we’re almost there.”

  “Ugh. She’s crazy with a capital C,” Emmie said, shaking her head. “Don’t think I’m weird for this, but I went to her and had her do a reading for me and she told me the most bizarre stuff that had nothing to do with what I asked.”

  “Like what?” I asked, glancing down at her.

  “She just went on and on about saints and blood and bones, and how I was so much prettier on the inside than I was on the outside. It’s like I paid her all that money for absolutely nothing,” she said, throwing her hands in the air.

  I swallowed hard. I felt like my throat was swelling up, which meant that I would most likely work against my own will. Marie’s readings were never wrong and I knew I wouldn’t have a choice now. When we reached the doors to La Rue Chateau, I looked down at Emily Thibideaux with sadness tearing my heart into pieces.

  “I love you, Emmie,” I said softly.

  “I love you too, Grimm,” she replied with a big smile. “It’s good to know that we’re still friends like this, you know.”

  “Get out of New Orleans tonight and don’t come back,” I commanded, gently giving her a push toward the doors, before I turned around and tore down the street.

  I refused to make her a martyr.

  I refused to make her a saint.

  After tonight, after the next three, I would find someone else who was just as appealing to Marie as Emmie was and then it would all be over.

  But I refused to take her life, no matter what the cost would be.

  Thirteen

  I had fought the demons for longer than I could remember. I can’t exactly say I was chosen, but I can’t say that I would have declined if I had been. I always wanted to see what humans were really made of, ever since we had lost so many when the rains came, but what I wanted most of all was knowing that nothing would ever be able to hurt me again.

  The day I decided to embrace the demons was the day I became what I am. I chose to start selling the bones and blood shortly after I met Marie. She told me she could see what I did when she closed her eyes at night and she told me that if I kept her well stocked, she would keep my discretions in the dark, as well as compensate for what I could bring to her.

  But as I made my way back toward Bourbon Street, I found myself feeling the demons swell from within. Not the mythological demons of old, but my own personal demons that clawed at my soul that led me down this path of darkness and destruction.

  I need to finish this. I need this to be over so I can live whatever life is in store for me afterwards.

  As I wandered down the crowds that were already starting to gather, I found myself looking for Emmie. I needed her to stay out of sight, especially now that the crowds were gathering. If she came out into the streets, Marie would be able to have her taken without anyone knowing.

  Focus. You’re here for saints, not Emily Thibideaux.

  The bustling, the excitement around me, it was causing me to sweat. I had a problem being around crowds, because I was best known for being more of a myth. Not many people knew who I was by looking at me and I wanted to keep it that way.

  I grunted as a group of young men who were already drunk pushed past me on their way to their next bar. If I had my machete on me, I would have probably flown into a frenzy and gutted them for touching me.

  Times like this was when I had to remind myself that I wasn’t a murderer. I was a man of sacrificial purposes; murderers were evil people who killed for the thrill of it.

  I sighed unhappily as I scanned the crowd. Almost everyone around me was tainted in one way or another, which meant that if I couldn’t find people like Emmie, I’d have to purify them with fire. That always made the process of cleaning the bones messy and I would usually lose out on money I could get for them, if I let them stay in the pyre for too long.

  Then it happened.

  The same group of young women that had pushed past me on my way into La Rue Chateau were walking toward me, one of them with long blonde hair smiling at me through a drunken haze.

  “You’re hot
!” she called out as they approached.

  It took everything I had not to raise my hand to cover my nose. The smell of alcohol on her was so strong, I was surprised she could still stand.

  “What’s your name?” she asked, stopping in front of me.

  “Kemper,” I replied, with a forced smile. I hated smiling unless it was with Emmie, since she was the first one that ever received a true, genuine one from me.

  “I’m Larissa,” she said with a big smile. I fought the urge to roll my eyes when she hiccuped and giggled. “Sorry.”

  By count, there were five of them so I would have to separate the three most inhibited from the other two and convince them to come back to the Lower Ninth Ward with me.

  “Here for the parade?” I asked, crossing my arms over my chest. The backpack slid a little bit down my arm, so I hoisted it back up quickly. Fuck, I forgot to go to the market.

  “Yeah. We’re here for to find a sexy local man too, and I think we found him, didn’t we girls?” she asked, lust taking hazing over her drunken eyes.

  Please don’t touch me.

  “Know anyone interested in a good time?” she purred, stepping closer. My instinct told me to take a step back, but I needed her and two of her friends.

  “I might.”

  “Where are you staying?” she asked.

  Is this really going to be this easy?

  “I don’t live around here. But I can take you back to my place if you’d like to see what New Orleans really looks like,” I replied coyly.

  “I’m game,” she replied happily. “You girls wanna see where Kemper lives?” she asked her friends.

  One of her friends, who wasn’t as intoxicated as the rest of them, was eyeing me wearily. I let my eyes meet hers and she ended up looking away.

  “I’m gonna go finish the bar crawl,” she said quietly.

  No you’re not, I thought evenly.

  “Come on, it’ll be fun. I promise I’m harmless and I’ll have you back in time for the parade. Besides, Larissa wants to have a good time,” I said, nodding at her. She was wavering on her feet at this point and I wondered how much longer I had before she would either pass out or change her mind.

  “Tell you what,” I said, as she looked me up and down again, “I’ve got some moonshine at home that I just dug up a few days ago. You girls can come over and drink while I give Larissa what she obviously came for and then I’ll bring you all back.”

  “I don’t know,” she said cautiously.

  “You girls into magic, by any chance?” I asked suddenly.

  “Like voodoo?” she asked, her eyes becoming wide.

  “How about I show you what an authentic ceremony looks like after I’m done with Larissa? It’ll be ... educational. And free.”

  The four of Larissa’s friends put their heads together. They were obviously concocting a plan in case something went wrong, but this wouldn’t be the first time that I had dealt with more than one martyr.

  “Deal,” she finally agreed, once they broke out of their huddle.

  “What’s your name?” I asked her, the smile on my face widening slightly.

  “Reagan,” she replied, holding out her hand.

  I took her hand against my better judgment, and shook it firmly. I had to gain her trust though, and I knew it was the cordial thing to do. Not taking her hand would have sent up more red flags than she was already fielding and I couldn’t have that.

  “It’s nice to meet you girls,” I said, when we let each other go. “Follow me; it’s a bit of a walk, but I guarantee it’ll be worth it.”

  And Reagan will go into the fire first.

  Fourteen

  Emmie

  Grimm didn’t know, but I had been watching him from the balcony outside my room. He was easy to spot in the growing crowd of people, because of the way his white shirt hung open, the tattoos that lined his arms, and how he trudged unhappily along. Nothing of what he had been doing bothered me until I saw him stop to talk to that group of drunken college girls. What really hurt my feelings was when I saw them walk out of sight with him, when he couldn’t find time for his childhood best friend.

  I did what any normal, concerned friend would do. I followed them away from the French Quarter, past the Old Algiers, and into a part of New Orleans that he had always forbid me from going to.

  But today was going to be different, I was going to follow them and see what it was that he was trying to hide from me. I liked to believe that he wouldn’t touch those girls; not in that way, but I only knew the boy version of him and still had to learn about the man he had turned into. I couldn’t help but think that he was hiding something from me. Little things like steering me away from the crazy lady that owned the voodoo shop, and telling me to leave Louisiana, just threw up red flags all over the place for me.

  Should I have cared that everything inside of me was screaming at me to leave it alone? I would imagine so; but I didn’t come this far to see him, get chastised for it, and shooed home.

  Daddy was mad at me for wanting to see Grimm. Mama wouldn’t stand up for me, hell she wouldn’t even stand up for herself. Grimm seemed more interested to see me than happy, and it was really messing with my head. I figured if I followed him and saw what it was that he was up to, maybe we could find a way to connect on some level and we could do it together before I left.

  I went into the bedroom after I made a note of which direction they were headed in, and pulled on my running shoes. I wasn’t much for running, but I was very capable of sprinting long distances if I needed to.

  I took the stairs down and waved at Carrie as I walked quickly past the front desk. I wasn’t sure if she waved back or even saw me, but I knew it was the cordial thing to do. Once I was out on the sidewalk, I walked around to the side of the hotel my room was on and looked up.

  Okay, so if he was heading that way when I was up there, then that’s where I need to go.

  Taking a deep breath, I broke into a fast paced jog. It wasn’t exactly running and it wasn’t exactly sprinting, it was just a fast enough movement to allow me to catch up to Grimm and his new friends before I lost them completely.

  I wasn’t exactly sure where I was going, but I hoped that the streets would eventually intersect at some point. Something told me to go toward the Old Algiers spot that he and I loved as kids, and I could only hope he wasn’t there with them. It would taint our special place, even if it wasn’t just ours anymore.

  Come on, Grimm. Which way did you go? I wondered desperately to myself after ten minutes of blindly chasing him with no promise of catching him in sight.

  I took a left turn and decided to turn my jog into a sprint. I wanted to know if he was where my heart was telling me he might be, but once I got to our place I saw that I was wrong. He wasn’t there and he hadn’t been there recently. I knew it because I couldn’t catch his scent on the air; Grimm had a very peculiar smell to him. Almost like myrrh mixed with patchouli and it was strong enough to linger if he stayed in one place long enough.

  The only place left to go is the Lower Ninth Ward. He’ll be so angry at me for it, but I don’t care.

  It was when that decision engraved itself into my mind that I realized I had no idea how to get there. Maybe if I was lucky, Monroe, his wife, or James would be in the market, and I could ask one of them.

  Fifteen

  When I reached the small alley that opened into the market, I slowed my pace and began to take deep breaths. It was a trick I had taught myself to reinstate my regular breathing quicker than normal, and I didn’t want to end up at my favorite pineapple stall doing some heavy breathing. I couldn’t explain it, but it would just seem rude to me.

  I took one last deep breath, and tied my hair back into a loose ponytail as I let it out. I was sure that the wind had done wondrous things to my hair and I didn’t want to scare whoever was manning the stall today by being out of breath and crazy haired.

  Once I was sure I was somewhat presentable I stepped out of the
edge of the alley that seemed to always be encased in darkness, into the bustling, sunny market area.

  “Oh,” I mumbled in disappointment. Monroe’s stall was closed up, but there was someone standing near it that I didn’t know. The man was tall and bone thin; somber would be the best way to describe the look on his face.

  Our eyes locked for a moment, which prompted a nod from him. I bit my lip nervously, but I approached him anyway. I liked Monroe and something told me that the happy man that was known fondly as Market Monroe must have serious things to take care of if his stall was closed.

  “Hi,” I said softly when I reached the man. Being close to him kind of scared me. The whites of his eyes were almost completely a sickly yellow color and he was missing a couple of teeth. His brown skin must have been pretty and flawless once, but you’d never know it underneath the layers of scars that were visible because of his rolled up sleeves and denim shorts.

  “Looking for Monroe?” he asked in a dry voice.

  I nodded, clasping my hands in front of me. I had a feeling that this man wouldn’t hurt me, so I was starting to relax a bit.

  “He’s not here.”

  “I can see that,” I replied carefully. “Is he coming today? I need to ask him something.”

  “He won’t be back for a long time. His son’s missing. He’s out looking for him. I doubt he’ll ever find him, though,” he said, shaking his head.

  I raised an eyebrow. Come to think of it, I hadn’t seen or heard from James since I had sent him to find Grimm. But Grimm didn’t make mention of seeing the boy, did he? I couldn’t remember.

  It’s probably not James anyway; he’s not the only son they have I’m sure.

  “Which son is it?” I asked, clearing my throat.

  “How you know him?” he inquired evenly. His sickly eyes narrowed as he crossed his bony arms across his chest. I got a better view of the scars; deep, ragged, and almost white. It almost looks like he had fought off a monster and won.

  “I buy pineapples from him. He’s my friend,” I replied, tearing my eyes away from his scars and forcing myself to look him in the eyes.