by G A Chase
Sere sat on the shore with the backpack at her feet. “So was Andy the one you wanted me to see? Next time you wander in from the swamp toward civilization and make me worry about your reptilian hide, find me something worth hunting.”
His snort sent a mist plume that reached all the way to the trees.
“You’re right. Andy said there was another. Some creature has a good head start on me. Would have helped if Andy had told me if it was swimming, flying, or walking.” She pulled one of the boxes of shells out of the stuffed bag. “Based on the number of shells, Professor Yates must be expecting a full-on nutria invasion.”
While Sere considered her next move, Lefty circled the surface of the small lake like a guardian, making sure the little demon made it back down to hell. Though she doubted Andy would be fool enough to bubble back up from the lake’s depths, hell’s gator being on patrol in the area at least meant the gate wasn’t standing wide open for all to use.
She let out a loud whistle to call him over. “Take me back to my boat. I need to find Joe. I just hope he’s not waiting for me at Big Larry’s. The longer I sit here, the more of a head start that demon has on me.”
Once she settled on his back, Lefty made a beeline for the johnboat Sere had borrowed. The huge animal maneuvered the interconnected waterways like a child challenged to find a specific toy in the chaos of his room.
While he swam, she pulled out one of the shotgun shells and dumped the contents into her hand. “I wonder what would happen if I swallowed one.”
Lefty rocked hard to the right as if trying to make her drop the bombing-debris rocks.
“I wasn’t going to do it. I was just wondering. You don’t have to get all freaked out on me. Committing suicide once was enough for me.” She resumed her contemplation of the miniature marbles. “I always figured Superman must have dreaded holding a kryptonite stone in his hand, but handling these deadly connections to home doesn’t frighten me. It makes me nostalgic. I suppose that’s the point. Remembering where I come from makes me weak. Someone without ties is free to take the path of danger.”
Lefty swam along as if Sere’s philosophical revelations were nothing more than the singing of the birds in the trees. She tossed the rounded pebbles into the water and watched them sink until they were out of sight. “I should have heaved a couple of shells into the water after Andy. I’ll bet that would have kept him from bothering me again.”
The water began to churn where the rocks had sunk. Snakes, fish, and turtles surfaced and followed Lefty like a bayou flotilla. Sere crawled to the back of the giant gator. Animals from the swamp, like her snake companions, had always been more like friends than creepy-crawly creatures out to bite her. But they didn’t typically gather in large groups at her command—at least not the ones in the living realm.
“They can’t be from hell. If that many animals worked their way through the gate, the sky would have lit up like a Day-glo-green hurricane.” She sat cross-legged on the tough hide and emptied another shell into her hand. Rolling the stones around in her palm, she wondered if the paranormal energy held some magical attraction for the living animals. Each rounded white-and-black-veined pebble tingled as if electrically charged.
When Sere was growing up in hell, Polly Urethane had done her best to educate her on the magical specifics of the world she inhabited. As the only student of ten instructors, Sere didn’t have the luxury of falling asleep in the back of the class, though that didn’t prevent her from being obstinate. Persevering despite Sere’s resistance, Polly had told her, “Professor Yates’s projections need hell’s structures to bounce off of, like a movie shown on a big screen. Since what we’re doing is three-dimensional and solid, we require considerably more than a flat white sheet. Every physical structure that Agnes Delarosa constructed with her witch spells we use to bounce our reality into your realm. The residual paranormal energy coats everything in the Quarter like moisture rolling down a cold glass of iced tea on a humid day.”
Sere picked one of the pellets off her palm and tossed it into the water. The animals gave it a wide berth, but the gap they created was quickly filled with a large catfish that joined the procession. With each stone she heaved into the water like fish bait, another creature surfaced. My personal swamp navy.
As Sere’s surrogate mother, Sanguine had offered information that was easier to remember than Polly’s teacher-like ramblings: “Remember, Sere, my grandmother and I were swamp witches. These marshes, rivers, and forests and all the creatures that dwell here are more than just your home. They’re here for your protection.” Being a little girl living in hell came with its own rules, and what Sanguine had been prior to becoming an angel had sounded like an alternate reality—one that couldn’t possibly matter.
“I stand corrected, my magical witch angel. You must have known one day I’d wander beyond hell’s borders and need to rely on your bayou friends.”
By the time Lefty crawled onto the shore next to the boat Sere had borrowed, the swamp creatures that had followed them had swum back to their submerged lives. She added that tidbit of information to what she knew about swamp life. If I don’t give them a mission, I can’t expect them to hang around.
She lifted the backpack to her shoulder and climbed off the gator’s back. “Keep patrolling hell’s gate. I don’t want that little twerp swimming back here like the connection is some damn public pool and he’s leaving the kiddie side for the deep end. If I need you, I’ll send the snakes. Otherwise, for your own safety, please do not wander in toward the gator hunters again. I know you could snap one of their boats in half with just the flick of your tail, but those assholes can be relentless. Trust me. I know.” The memory of the black Ducati and its determined rider still got on Sere’s nerves. You fucking made me blow a head gasket.
She dumped the pack on the ground and stood on the shore while Lefty swam back toward the section of swamp free of men and their obsessions. The sun still hung too high over the horizon for her to dare her journey back to civilization. Borrowing the boat was bad enough, but getting caught with it out on the water by some overzealous gator-hunting vigilante might tax even her fighting skills.
She sat next to the backpack. While watching the afternoon fade away, she faced what she had become. When she was growing up, hell’s swamp had been the one respite she could rely on. Being flown into New Orleans in Sanguine’s arms meant lessons over the communication gate from Kendell and her crew, combat training with Joe, and orientation from Sanguine on what was involved in city living. Other than the physical exertion, Sere found the whole endeavor tiresome. No matter how many times the others explained that real people weren’t as hollow as the doppelgängers she dealt with—and that someday she would appreciate the interpersonal skills—Sere found her animal companions far more interesting. Even enduring puberty with only sex bots to satisfy her urges came as a relief compared to joining the living and having to deal with the emotional connection that went along with the physical acts.
“People and their fucking neuroses.”
The memory of her last day in hell played in her mind like a repeating song she couldn’t turn off. “You don’t have to go.” The sunlight had filtered through the white feathers of Sanguine’s wings, casting an angelic glow around the cabin. No other expression of love enveloped Sere’s heart as strongly as that heavenly light.
She hadn’t wanted to leave. Hell was far from being an ideal place to grow up, but Sanguine and her guardian alligators had been more of a family to Sere than anyone she had ever known, almost. On her last day, the conversation had continued to play out. “I can’t shake the thought that Anthony wouldn’t approve of me running away from life. The older I get, the less I can hide from who I am.”
“Your brother died long ago.”
Sere had paced the main room of the cabin in the tree. “You speak of death like it’s some kind of parting of spirits. While you and Kendell were devoted to containing Father in this hell you govern, Anthony was the one
who came back to protect me from the devil. I was just an innocent child caught in your trap.”
Sere hadn’t meant to be snippy. As Sanguine continued, Sere regretted making the veiled accusations. Never before had Sanguine’s wings fallen so low. “You’re a beautiful songbird locked in a cage, and I need to set you free. I can see that now. Your father is gone. I’ve been selfish keeping you in my realm for so long.”
Sanguine might have come from the land of the living, but it was never really her home—just as hell wasn’t really Sere’s.
“I had nowhere else to go,” Sere said. “You saved me, raised me, and loved me. But hiding in the swamp—whether in hell or life—isn’t my destiny. It’s time I become the person I predicted I’d be—the one my brother inspired me to be.”
Sanguine stood a little straighter but left her wings lowered. “You’re a warrior princess. That’s how you saw yourself as a young girl and how you wanted to be raised, and now you’re ready to fulfill that dream.” The woman under the feathers had understood, even if the angel always sought to protect.
Sere heaved the backpack into the boat. “Fucking emotions.” She pushed the aluminum hull off the muddy shore, jumped in, and headed back for a civilization that was far less welcoming than the swamp she loved. Like any warrior, comfort was merely an indication that she was ignoring her true sense of purpose.
Being back in the man-made boat after a day with only her swamp creatures made the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. With each bend in the river, she stared long and hard at the shoreline, tall grasses, and shadowy tree trunks for someone who might be lying in wait for her return. As night fell, the uneasy feeling of being watched intensified. Since she hadn’t spent much time around people, the gut instinct Joe often talked about always sounded more like magic than tactics to Sere. For the first time, she had a sense of what he was talking about. With only the shotgun cartridges as weapons—but no gun to discharge them and no knife—each of her muscles flexed, ready for battle.
“Where does instinct end and paranoia begin?” She spoke the question out loud as a way of imprinting a reminder to ask Joe at their next training session.
Well before dawn, Sere snuck the gator hunter’s boat back into its position alongside the dock. A light she didn’t remember hung over the bait station, attracting all manner of moths and flying insects. They probably just replaced the bulb, she thought hopefully. Any change, however, put her fighting instinct even further on edge. She looked over the side of the rickety boards at the dark water. It was either swim for it or sneak past the lit structure. The heavy pack made the decision for her. Wet ammunition seldom worked as intended, and she didn’t need weapons she couldn’t rely on when it came to facing a demon from hell. She kept low, hoping to stay in the shadow of the butcher bench that smelled of rotting meat. If there was a surveillance system, she didn’t notice it—but that was kind of the point.
Once away from the water, she crept along the trees and vines to avoid creating any footprints on the dirt road back into town. Between hunching low and keeping silent, watching for someone following her, and avoiding every twig that might snap and announce her presence, the mile-long walk from the swamp to town took three times as long as the trip out to the water had taken the previous night. Before crossing from the comfortable shadows to the comparatively revealing streetlights, she looked down the deserted main road. I doubt the routine in this small town ever changes. Since the gator boys can’t start hunting until daylight, I should still have a few hours before things get interesting.
The streetlights managed to clearly illuminate the signs on the fronts of the buildings but only cast an overall glow on the rest of the main road. Other than the sound of her boots on the concrete sidewalk, the town was slumbering like a high school student buried under the blankets, not wanting to start the day. Each dark window held the possibility of someone secretly watching, but with the threat now ahead of her, the creepy feeling of someone following eased off.
From the far end of town, she caught the sound of a tinny transistor radio blaring “Highway to Heaven.” I’ll bet that’s Larry getting an early start. It’ll be good to have my wheels back.
She didn’t run into any further signs of life until she saw the bright shop lights from the open bay door of the mechanic’s shop. “Anybody home?” she called out.
“Come on in. I’m in the back, trying to get some of this grease off my hands.”
Standing proudly off to the side of the front door was her Triton. It sparkled in the bright work lights. “I didn’t expect you to detail my ride, just fix the head gasket.” She secured Andy’s backpack on the gas-tank luggage rack.
“Force of habit. I hate seeing a piece of machinery not looking its best when it leaves my shop.” Larry came out of the back bathroom, still wiping his hands on a heavily stained shop towel.
Sere bent down to inspect the engine. “She looks good. How does she ride?”
“I like a woman who’s not dazzled by a shiny finish. Go ahead and kick her over.”
Like most old engines, the bike had a tendency to start grumpy if left for too long. Sere started her preride ritual, like a mother trying to rouse her child without causing the kid to dive deeper under the covers.
She swung her leg over the engine and gave the bike its usually unsuccessful first kick. To her surprise, the engine fired right up. “She didn’t feel warm, but you must have already started her up this morning.”
“Nope. I had her ready by the end of the day yesterday. I gave her a little fine-tuning after I had her back together.” The proud mechanic stood beside the bike and ran his eyes over both machine and rider.
“Are you admiring me or the bike?”
His good-natured laugh was barely loud enough to be heard over the engine. “Maybe a little of both.” He reached in the chest pocket of his coveralls and pulled out a receipt. “I called that number you gave me. Your bill’s taken care of, but I got the impression the guy on the other end wasn’t too happy about the engine failure.”
She took the slip of paper and stuffed it into her jeans without checking the charge. “I’ll have some explaining to do.” The concerned look on Larry’s face reminded her of how Kelly had assumed her injuries had been from an abusive relationship. I’ll bet she had a few choice remarks for Larry. “Don’t worry about it. Joe is more father figure and mentor than judge.”
“So he’s not your ex?” Larry asked.
I don’t have an ex, but telling you that would only create questions I’d rather not answer. “He’s the one who taught me how to take care of myself.”
“Looks like he’s done a fine job. Kelly won’t open for another hour, but if you want, I’ll bet we could talk her out of some hot coffee.”
Sere was grateful for the change of topic. “I need to pick up my things from her anyway, but then I need to be on my way.”
He looked down the street. “Good, because Kelly is not going to rest until she knows firsthand you’re okay. If you didn’t swing by, I’d have to tell her the story of how you stopped in to get your motorcycle and repeat it fifteen times. She could put the cops to shame the way she looks for inconsistencies in a repeated story.”
Sere appreciated the concern from the strangers more than she’d expected. “I suppose a quick cup of coffee wouldn’t hurt.” She edged up onto the seat. “Climb on.”
He swung his leg over the seat and gingerly put his hands on her waist. “I’m not too proud to accept the ride. Just don’t do anything that would require me to make an ungentlemanly gesture.”
She laughed off his insecurity and gunned the engine. “Hold on as tightly as you like. You’re not going to offend me.” She let loose of the clutch and gave the engine a good pull through the parking lot and onto the street without squealing the tires. Probably best not to wake the whole town.
Even with the added weight of a passenger on the back, the bike promptly responded to the slightest twist of the throttle. She leaned ba
ck against him to be heard over the engine. “You obviously know more about getting the most out of a motor than you let on.”
He leaned in over her shoulder. “I did a little hot-rodding when I was younger. If you’re ever in the market for some upgrades, you know where to find me.”
Kelly stood out front of her diner with her hands on her hips as Sere swung the Triton into the parking lot. The woman’s look of consternation transitioned to a big smile on seeing who was behind the handlebars. “I thought maybe Larry was taking your bike out for another joy ride. Any time he upgrades an engine, he can’t help but take it for a spin—one that always seems to end in front of my diner so he can show off his handiwork.”
Larry kept his head down as he got off the back of the bike and scuffed his foot against the asphalt. “Who else is there in this town who’d admire my skills as much as you?”
In spite of Kelly’s original glare at Larry, Sere wondered if the two would have preferred some alone time. “I just stopped by to pick up my things.”
“Don’t be ridiculous, hon. The coffee’s already brewed, and I’ll have the griddle fired up in no time. How would a plate of eggs and grits sound—or maybe some flapjacks?”
Larry looked up and gave Kelly a toothy smile. “You know what I want.”
“I swear, boy, where do you put it? I could cook you up a stack of jacks three feet tall, and you wouldn’t put on a pound.”
Sere set the bike on its kickstand and shut off the petcock. “I couldn’t eat that many, but a pancake or two and a cup of black coffee sure sounds good.”
Larry nudged her as he headed for the front door. “Wait until you try one of Kelly’s breakfasts. That woman does know how to cook.”
Kelly checked the street before following Sere and Larry inside. “Well, while you were busy playing with cars in shop class, I was taking home economics.”
They still teach that? Sere didn’t want to sound judgmental. She followed Larry to the counter and sat next to the pots of hot coffee. “Anything new happen while I was away?” She tried to make it sound like she was just looking for a little morning gossip to go with her coffee.