The Malveaux Curse Mysteries Boxset 2

by G A Chase

  The golden pick showed signs of use at the tip. The loas gave you all that power, and you just carelessly tossed it into my hell like it was a plastic doubloon thrown from a parade float.

  Cautiously, he touched it with his finger, wondering what new hell he was about to set loose, but like his objects, the pick gave off just as much energy as any other lump of metal. Confused, he picked it out from between the hand-forged nails. “Nothing? Seriously? No bursting into flames, no electric shock, no zapping me into another dimensions—what gives?” He wondered how much of his last few years in hell had been nothing more than his delusions. Did I really make it back to life? How far gone am I?

  Self-doubt was a mental cancer he’d long since defeated. But as he stood there in his bathrobe, his skin scratched to the point of bleeding, staring at ordinary objects and expecting some kind of magical response, he couldn’t help thinking the scene was more befitting of the homeless people living under the freeway than him. “I really have lost my mind.”

  “Soon maybe, but not just yet.” Kendell’s voice sent up goose bumps on his irritated skin.

  * * *

  Kendell stood in the doorway to the back room with her arms crossed. She glared at Colin across the seventh gate that was represented by the voodoo totem. He was bound to make his case eventually, but she hadn’t expected to see him in such a sorry condition. In his bathrobe and clearly nothing else, she wondered if he’d just come from having sex with Sanguine. If so, the witch turned angel really knew how to work a guy over.

  “You’re really here?” His wild-eyed look of confusion did little to excuse his shabby appearance.

  “I’m welcome here in this shop. The question is, what are you doing here?”

  He set the golden guitar pick back on top of the totem like a kid who’d gotten caught with his hand in the cookie jar. “What happened to the curse?”

  “Seems you and I are just full of questions today. I blew up your precious bank—all those loan documents, personal family histories, and generations of debtors, all up in smoke. Before you landed in hell, you’d been hanging onto your power by dangling that history of indebtedness over every important family in New Orleans. Did you really think the curse only pertained to what you did more than a hundred years ago?”

  He picked up a cufflink and inspected it as if he’d never seen it before. “What does that mean for my situation?”

  “I suppose it means you’re screwed. You started off using these things like a prisoner digging away with spoons at the mortar between the bricks of his jail cell. When that didn’t work, you tried playing telephone with me via our connection. Then, of course, you had the bright idea of pulling on the cord to yank me into hell. You must see by now what a complete and utter failure you’ve been.”

  He fell more than sat in the chair next to the table. “What do you want from me?”

  “Well, that’s a change. The only other time I heard you act pliable to another’s demands was when your daughter was in trouble. But you haven’t even asked about her, so I guess the longing for that possession has passed.”

  “Her future is no longer in my hands.” When he looked back at her, the familiar spark of cunning was back in his eyes. “Of course, that also means I’m not obligated to sacrifice my soul for hers. The loas of the dead are out a soul, and there’s nothing they can do about it. And if our connection is truly severed, you’re stuck talking to me over your precious seventh gate. All I have to do is leave you standing here waiting, and there isn’t a damn thing you could do about it. Hell is mine.”

  His arrogance, even in his desperate state, was unbelievable.

  “Sanguine might have something to say about that.”

  He tried to sit upright. The movement opened the top of his robe, revealing red scars on his chest. “You started out with a small army. Now you’re down to your last warrior goddess—one who’s already exposed her weakness for my daughter. I like my odds.”

  “Then you’ve given up on your quest for the cane? Just as well, but so long as Sanguine finds you so distasteful, hell will be a lonely place. Though I guess you already know that.”

  “And what are you going to tell the loas of the dead? They aren’t going to sit back and let this situation remain. They’re due a soul, and they can’t have mine. Do you really think they’re going to give your boyfriend a pass for having failed them? Because I’ve got news for you: the loas don’t accept failure. As for Serephine, I fought to the end to save my daughter, but at this point, I think she has stronger advocates. So you and Sanguine are going to have to face me or face the loas of the dead. The choice is yours. I’ve got all the time in the world.” He sounded like an ill-behaved child who’d had a toy taken away and was using bravado to hide his disappointment.

  Unfortunately, he had a point. Pulling him through the gate wasn’t possible. Both applicant and gatekeeper had to be in agreement. Not that having a half-crazy devil back in life was going to be a picnic, but leaving him in hell also carried too many risks. There was only one answer—the deep waters—but for the life of her, Kendell couldn’t figure out how to get the cantankerous asshole through the maze. “Do you have a proposal that doesn’t result in you becoming the all-powerful devil over every human soul?”

  “I know what you have planned. You intend to drive me insane then usher me through the loas’ realm like an invalid in order to avoid detection. Instead, let me cross into Guinee without going through your seventh gate. I should have the right to face my fate while standing on my own two feet. Myles can use his cane to transport me from here to Baron Samedi’s seventh gate. Once I’m in Guinee, I’ll no longer be your responsibility. You’ve ended the curse. Isn’t that enough?”

  She had seen him make the same play so many times that he’d become predictable. “This hasn’t been about the curse for a long time. I may not have wanted the role of protector of humanity, but I’m not going to shirk my duty.”

  “I’m not asking you to. My plan has the advantage of me not setting foot among the living. Isn’t that your number one goal? Taking me directly to Guinee works better for both of us.”

  Even insane and with his soul ripped to shreds, he would be a threat to the living—perhaps more so. But Guinee wasn’t the ultimate destination. “And once you’re set loose among the loas?”

  “That’s my business. I said it before. My promise is to never again return to the land of the living.”

  She glared at him through the gate. “Then we’re back where we started. You want to populate hell with souls you steal from purgatory—or have you moved on to wanting to rule Guinee on your own again?”

  “You gave me the respect of presenting my case to you and your fellow gatekeepers. All I’m asking for is the same dignity among the loas of the dead.”

  She knew better. “Bullshit. You’ve made it clear you want to take over their realm, not justify your life to the loas like every other member of the recently dead. Papa Ghede doesn’t want you back in Guinee. Our plan was to get you to the deep waters so that the level of human souls you described would balance out. Do you no longer care that the loas might be coming after your daughter?”

  “This hell is under the proprietorship of Sanguine Delarosa. The loas can’t set foot in here without her approval, and since she’s guarding my daughter, she’ll never let the death lovers take her. The only way both Serephine and I exist at the same time is if we stay in this hell, where the loas can’t get to us, or if I am allowed to deal with the rulers of Guinee.” He was like a child bracing himself against his room’s doorframe, refusing to go to bed.

  “Why are you so paranoid about entering the deep waters? Judgment lies in Guinee, and you’ve already spent time there. Are you really that afraid of bonding with all other souls?”

  “I’ve come too far and learned too much—evolved into a new form of human—to let what I’ve become go to waste. Even Papa Ghede acknowledges what I’ve achieved. That’s the real reason he doesn’t want me back in
his kingdom. I’m more than he ever dreamed of becoming.”

  Your arrogance is unbelievable, but then, I guess that’s what it means to be the devil. “You look awfully grubby for being the next thing in human development. You might want to get a second opinion.”

  “Isn’t that what the gates to Guinee are all about? If I can convince the seven loas of the dead that we can be more than we are—and that I can lead the way—they would have no option but to let me live. Think about it: no more death. Tell me that isn’t something worthy of mankind’s aspiration.”

  The argument was giving her a headache. “You should have been a lawyer instead of a businessman, though I doubt that would have kept you out of hell. Since you aren’t here to petition passage through my seventh gate, we really have nothing further to discuss. Myles isn’t swooping in with his cane to take you out of hell, and I can’t pull you through the gate like you did me. We’re at an impasse.”

  He lunged at the totem with fire in his eyes. “Let me out of here!”

  61

  On the couch of their apartment, Myles held Doughnut Hole in his lap and ran his hand through the dog’s thick black fur while Kendell relayed her conversation with the devil.

  “Sounds like Colin,” he said. “So we’re stuck standing watch until he gives in. Is that the plan?”

  “I don’t have a plan. His sanity is hanging on by a thread. I hoped that once his mind had gone, he’d be easier to control, but after talking to him, I can see his conniving goes beyond logical thought.”

  The puppy never tired of having his head rubbed. Myles’s hand kept petting. “Colin is obsessed with being alive—not just keeping his soul out of the deep waters but also maintaining that soul in a physical body. Maybe Sanguine was right so long ago. What if we kill him?”

  Kendell let out a loud sigh. “We’ve been over this. I can’t take a life. Neither can you. And even if we did find someone who could, with Colin in hell, he’s all but untouchable.”

  Myles pulled seven dog treats from the jar on the end table and lined them up on the coffee table. “There’s something that’s been bothering me. So far, Colin has approached five of the gates that we know of and probably Sanguine’s as well.” He moved the first bone-shaped treat toward Kendell. “He passed Mary’s test, but immediately stole you out of her dimension.” He moved the treat halfway back to where it had started and moved the second the same distance toward Kendell. “Then he showed up at the club, and Polly mysteriously bumped your elbow, sending the plastic guitar pick into his hand—not really a ringing endorsement from the band.” He moved the next two. “Miss Fleur, Antoine, and Serephine all gave their blessings, but he left the drawings that indicated their approval in the bank office, which we’ve destroyed.” Finally, Myles handed the doggie treat that represented his gate to Doughnut Hole. “And I rejected his claim.”

  “What’s your point?”

  He scooped up the first four treats and divided them between the two dogs. “If I understood Sanguine’s explanation of Agnes’s world correctly, the old swamp witch needs to not so much believe what’s said as what’s felt. If we’ve all ultimately turned our backs on Colin, then he hasn’t actually passed a single gate. He only thinks he has or wants us to believe he has.”

  Kendell nodded toward the remaining two treats. “And what about Sanguine?”

  “She’s taken Sere and flown off to some unknown part of hell. That doesn’t seem like the act of someone who’s granted forgiveness.”

  “I still don’t see your point. What use are the gates if he doesn’t intend to work with us?”

  He gave the remaining two treats to Cheesecake. “Assume we let him sneak out of hell. You know how confused you were when you made it out of his vault? Multiply that times seven. All of the devil’s cunning won’t do him any good if he’s nothing more than a crazed homeless person. Without support, an indigent madman claiming to be the devil isn’t going to intimidate anyone. The bank is in shambles, so his mother isn’t likely to reach out to him. Chief Laroque doesn’t give a rat’s ass about his nephew. Who’s he going to turn to?”

  Kendell sat on the floor to pet Cheesecake. “And if he did go through the gates, even if we all rejected him later, you’re banking on him not having any devilish magic up his sleeve?”

  “Sanguine didn’t get to keep her wings when she returned, and her ability to read the future wasn’t any more prophetic than that of any other seer. What she had achieved in hell remained in hell. I know it’s a risk letting Colin back into our world, but no matter which calendar we’re using, he can’t return as a young man. Messing with time as much as he has while in Agnes’s realm must have taken a toll. He only gets to modify his appearance while in that other dimension. Once he’s back here, he might not have many years to live, in addition to no friends or allies, no home, and none of the loans he used as leverage over the rich and powerful. Take away any magical powers, and he’s in worse shape than your homeless contingent. Might do the bastard good to see life from the other side of the socioeconomic scale.”

  She shook her head. “That still doesn’t do us any good regarding Sere. By the time he dies, the loas will know it’s Colin. The window of opportunity to sneak him through their seventh gate undetected while they’re rebuilding won’t last long.”

  “Which brings me back to my original point. He has to die. At least being in our dimension makes finding an assassin somewhat easier. And if no one is supporting him, the loss of his life may go unnoticed by the authorities.”

  She stared down the hallway and frowned. “Hypothetically, even if he did come back to life and—again hypothetically—we did kill him, you’d still need to escort his soul through Guinee to the seventh gate. He might not be much in this realm, but once his soul is set free of his body, he’d be an out-of-control lunatic.”

  “True, and I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I suspect Delphine might have a constraining harness we could put on his soul like a muzzle on a rabid dog.”

  She gave him the usual tilted-head expression of self-satisfaction. “So you’re easing up on your opinion of Delphine?”

  Not likely. “Once Colin is returned to life, crazed, and someone finally kills him, she won’t have much choice but to help us dispose of the evidence. She does bear more than a little responsibility for creating Colin. If we’re right about her, approached correctly, she might see that she’s been backing a losing cause with him. And what better way to honor her ancestor than to draw to a close the evil Marie Laveau let loose?”

  “We still have the problem of getting Colin to pass through the seventh gate. He knows what we’re up to. Why would he want to sneak through?”

  Myles hitched his thumb down the hallway. “We make the cane an irresistible target. He won’t approach the gate if he thinks you’re standing guard, but if he believes he can win it all while we’re not looking—doesn’t that sound like something Colin would think up himself?”

  “We’ll need a powerful backup plan if he does get hold of the cane. We could be playing right into his hands.”

  “We do have a pretty good crew,” Myles said. “The real question will be how best to utilize them.”

  “And how to tempt Colin into trying to steal the cane. We can’t be too obvious, or he’ll be suspicious.”

  Myles walked down the hallway to the closet. “So I can’t just leave the cane next to the gate like I’d misplaced it?”

  “Right. But it will need to be somewhere he’d notice it.”

  Instead of pulling out the cane, Myles grabbed the silver headpiece. “We’ve long suspected he’s had help from this side. Our guess has been Delphine. What if we ask her to hold this for us? She keeps every other magical token in her voodoo curio cabinet, so why not this one as well? From what you described, it sounds like Colin set his statue facing the others. If he was looking through the totem as the seventh gate and saw the silver headpiece in the cabinet, he might think it was a sign from Delphine.”

&nbs
p; “Suddenly, you’re putting a lot of trust in that voodoo queen. What if she actually does use it as a sign to Colin?”

  He pulled out the cane. “We won’t tell her where to find the cane, and I’m certainly not leaving it here in the apartment.”

  “We’d still be connecting Colin to Delphine.”

  Myles wasn’t crazy about having to face both the devil and the voodoo queen, but Delphine had proven ineffectual enough times for him to doubt her abilities. “When you were half out of your mind, Delphine didn’t have much useful information on how to cure you. Polly was the one who figured out that the band needed to utilize your musical magic. If Delphine can’t cure him of his interdimensional insanity, he might be so out of his mind that he wouldn’t even realize she was on his side.”

  “And there is always the possibility she could help us without having any ulterior motive,” Kendell said.

  We never are going to see eye to eye on that woman. “If she doesn’t help Colin, all the better. But if she tries, she’ll be in for a challenge that so far has been beyond her skill set. Without the cane, even I wouldn’t know how to cure him. It was one hell of a task getting Sere straightened out.”

  * * *

  Myles didn’t like keeping anything secret from Kendell, not that he ever could. She had an almost sixth sense about whether he was hiding some bit of information. But they both agreed it would be better if she didn’t know where he hid the cane. After all, she had to deal with Delphine on her own if their plan was to stand a chance, and the less he knew about what was said, the less likely he was to form new suspicions regarding the voodoo queen. If what he didn’t know didn’t hurt him, the same should be true regarding her lack of knowledge about what he did with the cane.

  Of course, that meant he needed to figure out what to do with the damn stick. The most obvious places all carried potential risks. Professor Yates was too well connected with Luther Noire to be trusted with such a powerful paranormal item. Even if the professor didn’t mean to, he could easily let the information slip when speaking to the collector of magical artifacts. Then it’d be an all-out war to get it out of the World Trade Center vaults. Polly and the band were out. Like Myles, they never could keep a secret from Kendell. The people in the interdimensional embassies would be drooling to get their hands on the cane, so that removed those buildings as potential hiding places.