by G A Chase
With no other spiritual help available, she accepted the tumbler of whiskey Henry handed her. “Thank you, dear.”
He sat on the couch at her feet and pulled off her pumps. His hands performed their usual magic of calming her nerves by massaging her ankles and arches, while the alcohol warmed her stomach. “Do you really think he snuck off to see a friend? It’s not like him to be out after dark. Maybe we should start calling everyone he knows.”
Henry’s hands worked up to the base of her calf. “We need to let the police do their job. If we tie up our phones they, or Bobby, won’t be able to reach us.”
He’d always been better than her in a crisis, even in high school. I still can’t believe I messed up that cheerleading tumble so badly. My fucking knee was clear out of the socket. She looked down at him rubbing her leg. “Do you know when I first fell in love with you? It was that moment you jumped out of the stands, grabbed my leg almost like you’re doing now, and firmly set it back in place. I didn’t even know you except as the know-it-all in civics. I’d have fucked you that night if you’d asked. But like the gentleman you are, you never cashed in on that debt. No other boy I knew at the time would have had any qualms about taking advantage of me.”
He eased back to her ankle. “You were the popular girl and had something of a reputation. You can’t exactly blame them.”
Cock-loving popular cheerleader. But I should be focused on Bobby. That poor boy must be so scared. She sat up out of Henry’s grasp and took another shot of the whiskey. “I can’t just sit here doing nothing. You stay by the phone. I’m going to change into my running outfit and take a walk down to the park.”
She could see in his face how much he wanted to object, but if she truly wanted something, he always gave in eventually. The entire argument played out with only a couple of facial expressions. “Keep your cell phone on you,” he finally said, “and check in every fifteen minutes. I mean it, Jen-Jen.” He reserved the old pet name for times when he needed her cooperation but didn’t want to fight about it.
She pulled the block of technology out of her purse. “I promise. Look, I’ll set the timer app so I won’t forget.”
Outside, Jennifer-Sere felt more at ease alone in the dark. Neither mentally nor physically did she want to be cooped up with nothing to do while her child was in danger. As she rounded the corner leading into the park, her phone vibrated through the leather purse pressed against her hip. This should be interesting.
Her hand reached into her bag as if on autopilot, pressed a thumb to the button to unlock it, and called Henry. “I’m just getting to the park now. Any word?”
“Nothing yet.” Hearing the words come through on the digital speaker made her ear cringe. Is that due to what he just said, or am I experiencing a cell phone for the first time?
“It’s only been fifteen minutes,” she said into the rectangular block of plastic. “I guess we can’t expect an immediate update. I’m going to wander down along the river. You know how much he likes to fish. Call you in fifteen.”
“Love you. Please be safe.” Even the casual sign of affection made her heart flutter.
“I promise.” The funny thing was, Sere really believed what she was saying.
After resetting the timer and stashing the phone back among the compacts and crumbled receipts, she headed for the highest knoll in the rolling green space. I wish I had my snakes with me. A quivering deep in her gut let Sere know that Jennifer was not benevolently inclined toward the slithery little monsters.
Sere’s first inclination was to look for threats, ambush sites, and places where she could set up to best observe the goings-on below, but Jennifer took a mother’s angle on the problem. “Where would a frightened eight-year-old boy go to hide?”
The stomach-wrenching fear matched up with a memory from just after Henry had moved their family out of the big city. Jennifer had taken a much younger Bobby to this same park to explore. He’d gotten away from her. The memory of those quivering, heart-palpitating few minutes had prevented her from ever returning to the park with her son.
But where did he go? Sere tried to access Jennifer’s memories but came up with nothing. Though she scanned the playground, open field, and dog park, nothing struck her as familiar. Bobby had simply reappeared at his mother’s side.
Clever little fellow, aren’t you? Sere got down on her knees to see the terrain from Bobby’s perspective. Rolling down the grassy hill would be a blast. Looking for bugs and worms would be cool too. The babbling riffle in the river called to her like a playmate splashing in the stream, but she didn’t know if that was because of her swamp upbringing or Jennifer’s motherly empathy.
Unlike Jennifer, having been raised in the wild made Sere gravitate to nature’s call. There’s no harm in checking. What are you waiting for? Sere combated the motherly instinct to rush down to the water. Instead, she lay flat on her stomach to read the ankle-tall grass. If this is something more than a boy getting lost, I need to know what I’m walking into.
The lights from the road left pockets of shadows where the terrain rose and fell toward the water. Regularly spaced hop prints told of a rabbit casually traversing the open plain. The bunny trail took on an urgency just as a pair of child’s sneaker-toe prints rounded down from the road.
He never could resist something soft and fuzzy. A memory based on the emotions of Bobby opening his Christmas present only to have the kitten jump out and run along his arms threatened to get the best of Sere. Stop showing me how much you love your kid. I’ve got work to do. She got off her knees and crept along the crushed-grass trail. If this path is from Bobby, at least I don’t see any demon tracks following him.
Demon? The word echoed around her gut like a two-week-old chicken casserole, but she didn’t have time to dwell on the hidden dangers that worried her the most. One rescue at a time.
She slipped off her running shoes and ankle socks to walk barefoot through the grass. Every few feet, she checked the path to be sure no other creature had snuck in behind the boy chasing the rabbit.
At the water’s edge, her razor-sharp mom hearing picked up the plaintive repeated cry of “Mommy.”
“Bobby? Is that you?” Her heart pounded so hard she could barely hear the boy’s crying.
Slowly. It could be a trap.
But Jennifer’s legs weren’t paying attention to reason. She jumped into the swiftly moving stream and started yelling her son’s name while searching every hollow in the riverbank.
Bobby sat huddled under the outstretched protective oak-tree roots that projected from the riverbank. His skinned arms were tightly wrapped around the torn legs of his school uniform pants. Rocking back and forth while quietly sobbing, he apparently hadn’t heard Jennifer’s initial call. He sure as hell heard her scream of joy, though.
“Mommy!” He nearly fell face-first into the water as he jumped to his feet.
Sere bent down and caught him in midstride. Hugging him so tightly she feared she might hurt his ribs, she hoisted him off his feet. “Oh my God! I was so worried about you. Are you okay?” Part of her wanted to hold Bobby out so she could inspect his bruises, but the more powerful instinct of not letting him go won out.
“I hurt my arm.”
She noticed he only had one arm around her neck while the other hung limply at his side. “It’s okay, baby. Let me have a look.” Tenderly, she set him back on the shore and ran her hand up from his wrist. He’s moving his fingers, so there shouldn’t be anything broken. The way the whole arm turned in her hands made her quicken her inspection of his shoulder. Dislocated. “I need you to be really brave for just a minute. You’ve already been such a big boy.” Before he had a chance for fear to set in, she gripped his arm and wrist. With one quick tug and twist, she had it back in the socket.
“Owie!” he screamed through his cries.
She desperately wanted to return him to her chest to hug the pain and fear out of him, but where there was one injury, there were bound to be more. “T
ell Mommy where else it hurts.”
He pulled at the tattered edge of his ripped pants. A two-inch gash was seeping blood. It’s not squirting—that’s good—but he’s been out here a couple of hours, so who knows how much blood he’s lost.
She looked around in part to see if there was anyone close by who could help but also to make sure she wasn’t seen. “I want you to close your eyes, my love. This isn’t going to hurt. Mommy is going to do a little Mommy magic, okay?”
He nodded and put his hands up to his eyes.
All right, you fucking loa. Make this work, or suffer my wrath. She squeezed her well-manicured fingernails into the palm of her hand until blood oozed down to her wrist. Then she pressed the open wound to Bobby’s leg. If I could only transfer spiritual energy without that damn paranormal bandage.
An aura of confusion made Sere squeeze her eyes closed as she gripped the boy’s leg. Blood from both wounds stopped flowing. When she took her hand away, she ran her fingers over her palm. Not perfect, but good enough.
She bent down and cradled Bobby in her arms. “What do you say we go home, kiddo?”
His soft blond hair tickled her cheek as he nodded.
“What happened?” She nearly hated asking, but if there was a threat at hand, she needed to know about it before she carried him unprotected across an open field.
“I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to get lost.” His words trailed off into a prolonged sob.
“I’m not mad at you, sweetheart. I’m just so happy I found you. I was so worried.”
He grabbed her around the neck so hard that if it had been a battle, she’d have had to throw him off before he cut off her circulation. “I saw a bunny hopping through the grass. A man was hiding behind a tree with a gun. He was going to shoot it.” Again, Bobby’s voice was reduced to incomprehensible sobs.
Sere put her hand on the boy’s head so she could peer over his shoulder. The rabbit tracks he had followed disappeared over the tree roots. Bobby must have lost his footing and fallen into the river. Rabbits, however, were typically a little more surefooted than eight-year-old boys. The animal’s prints stopped at the roots’ highest point. Sere slowly turned while scanning the water and the opposite muddy riverbank. A man’s bare footprint stood out plain as day across the river, in line with where the rabbit had jumped.
She pressed her hand to Bobby’s ear and cradled him against her cheek. The shades of blue, gray, and dark green of the small ravine took on a tinge of red. If any of you doppelfuckwads lays one grimy finger on this precious boy, I’ll travel back to hell and cut off every demon’s head I come to.
Sere held the boy even tighter as she felt her spirit being ripped from the mother’s body.
Sere didn’t really care if Baron Samedi was more spirit than physical. She leapt up from the office chair, gripped it by the armrests, and flung it over the desk at the bank president’s opulent throne. “What the hell was that about?” she screamed as the two pieces of furniture splintered on impact.
The loa of the dead stood up from the tangled mass of wood and cushions that had passed right through him. “I had to know how you would face the threat to a loved one.”
“I’d fucking bash the villain’s face in. That’s how.” She longed for a good drag-down knockout fight over whatever game the baron was playing.
“Fortunately for everyone, your actions proved otherwise.” He picked up his top hat and cane. “Not every battle can be won single-handedly, Sere Mal-Laurette. Sometimes a warrior’s strongest move isn’t violence.”
As the baron dissolved into nothingness, so did the room. She woke out of the spiritual nightmare covered in sweat. “What the hell was that supposed to prove? At least the fucker didn’t take my soul.” Her defiance, however, was tempered by a longing to make sure both Bobby and Jennifer were all right.
Professor Yates might be brilliant enough to create an alternate reality like the one she’d just experienced, but she’d never heard of the loas doing anything other than pass judgment on people’s souls. She needed to find out if the previous night’s adventure had been real or imagined. And if it was real, poor Jennifer. That woman must still be terrified. I’ll bet Bobby doesn’t breathe fresh air for a week.
24
Chapter 12
After Sere stashed her motorcycle in its hiding spot for the day, she grabbed her saddlebags and headed for the office. “Linda, do you think you could find me a newspaper?” She tried to make the request not sound too insane. Only two days at the job, and the receptionist already must think I’m bonkers.
“Of course, dear, but most people find what they want online. I can get a computer out of storage if you’d like. The building has Wi-Fi, but it’s been a little glitchy lately.”
I’ll bet it has. “Just a good old-fashioned newspaper would be great. Something that still reports the activities of the last twenty-four hours.”
The old woman scrunched up her face. “I am familiar with the concept.”
Sere didn’t admit that newspapers were new to her. She’d spent most of her life in hell, where the previous day’s tortures were not reported. “Any word on Mr. Fisher?”
Linda’s face brightened. “He’s in his office.”
And all is right with your world. “Think it’d be okay if I poke my nose in?”
“I’m sure he’s expecting you, hon.”
Before heading into the main office, Sere unlocked her private sanctuary and dropped off her bags. A box of shotgun shells lay open on the desk, but only a handful were missing. At least Fisher had planned ahead, but then, he was probably better at anticipating what was to come than Sere was.
She knocked softly on Fisher’s open solid-wood door. “You busy?”
He leaned back from his desk, which was covered in spreadsheets. “I’ve always got time for you, my dear.” The kindly CPA had regained his welcoming smile and sparkling eyes. Only the bandage wrapped around his head indicated that not everything was hunky-dory.
Sere closed the door behind her and took a seat. “What the hell was that adventure about? You could have gotten yourself killed. If you even think about going off on a mission again without telling me, you’ll find one of my snakes tagging along in your briefcase.”
He raised his palms at her as if she were physically attacking him. “Easy, Demon Huntress. I’d hoped that I could reason with Thomas, possessed to possessed, but he’s farther gone into the darkness than I expected. I figured he’d be fighting against his demon just as I was. On that count, I was mistaken.”
After her night of saving a young boy from his noble, if foolish, desire to play the hero, she didn’t have it in her to harangue a grown man for a similar misadventure. “What else did you learn?”
“He’s being manipulated, though by whom and from where, I can’t say.”
She stared into Fisher’s eyes, looking for any hint of red. “You told him you were hearing the same voice in your dreams.”
“It’s true. I didn’t want to worry you about it until I had a little more information. Dreams aren’t real, after all, and my nightly tossing and turning could have just been from my late-night mocha-almond-fudge ice cream obsession.”
Sere almost told him about her own disturbing dreams of the previous night, but she didn’t want to add to Fisher’s concerns for her. “What is the voice telling you to do?”
“‘Prepare the way.’ It’s just the same three words repeated like a broken soundtrack over my dreams. Typically, my sleep is filled with stories about life in the Quarter or being at home—not very creative, I know. Lately, the dreams start out that way, but then they transition into some kind of post-apocalypse nightmare. That’s usually when I wake up.”
Lucky you.
“Any idea what the words mean?” Sere had her suspicions, of course, but Fisher was the one tuned into hell’s mouth.
“That’s what I was hoping to find out from Thomas. I should have known he’d try to escape.”
She picked up one
of the three shotgun shells from his desk. “And what made you force-feed him a paranormal pellet?”
He blushed like a kid who’d just been busted for raiding the cookie jar. “Sorry about the petty theft. I have images of you and that hunky military dude saving my life. Though at the time I was being consumed by my demon and in a state of shock, some memories remain crystal clear. You were in a panic when you screamed at that commando to shoot my doppelgänger. A part of me still recoils when I’m in the same room as those shells. I figured if I had such a strong reaction to them, Thomas would as well. It wasn’t like I had a lot of options for how to confront him. Speaking of which, I could use a weapon. I can’t wander the French Quarter with nothing more than a letter opener. If the doppelgängers are going to come after me like alligators after a wounded chicken, I need to be able to defend myself.”
Sere couldn’t imagine the nice man having much in the way of fighting skills. “Whoever is behind these escapes from hell doesn’t have his sights on you.”
“Maybe not, but those demons see me as a traitor to their cause. You’re not the only one at risk.”
He was right about that. Sere asked, “Have you ever fired a gun?”
“My sweet naïve superhero, I’m a southern boy. I learned to shoot before I learned to drive. Ann made me get rid of my firearms when our first daughter was born. She said she didn’t want Kristine to grow up in a world where her parents felt it necessary to be forever on guard. I used to keep a rifle in the office in case I got a particularly belligerent client. When people learn that the IRS is after them, not everyone takes it sitting down. Some of my customers act like they’ve just found out the devil’s on their tail and decide the best course of action is to kill the messenger. But somehow, Linda managed to store the rifle where I can’t find it.” He leaned over the desk conspiratorially. “I suspect she’s in cahoots with my wife.”