Bella Flores Urban Fantasy Collection

by R D Martin

  A growl, this time from Ray, pulled at her attention.

  “Who? Who was that?” she asked, trying to calm her shaking nerves.

  “Get in.”

  “What?”

  “The truck. Get in. We’ve got to go.”

  “Wait, I don’t—"

  His arm came up and, with a softball pitch, tossed whatever he’d been holding to her. As the objected tumbled in the air, all she saw was a spinning cartwheel of black and white. Catching it was easy as it almost flew into her hands, and she realized it was a doll.

  From the back, it looked like a plush toy with a curtain of dark hair cascading down its back, wearing a white shirt and light blue jeans. Every inch was well stitched and detailed, right down to the black belt circling its waist. Turning it over, she brought her hand up to cover her gasp. The doll was female and well portioned, but the face put her off. It was like looking into a plush mirror. Every one of her features, including the small scar near her hairline, was sewn into the doll.

  “I don’t understand,” she said, her insides twisting with a mix of concern and fear.

  “He knew you were coming. He had to.”

  “But how? I didn’t know I was coming. And how could he have made this? I’d know if I’d ever seen him before.” Except for an old DMV photo, she tried to avoid pictures as much as possible, so this should have not been possible.

  “I don’t know. I need to talk to Mama Ade, let her know what’s going on. Now, get in.” The urgency in his voice broke through her thoughts, and pulling open her door, she slid in.

  The tires of the old truck grabbed hold of the asphalt and squealed as the vehicle lurched forward. Whatever had stopped them before was gone and, sliding down in the bench seat, she was grateful to see the road disappearing behind them.

  Turning the doll in her hands, she shuddered. Being trussed up by Mama Ade was bad enough, but this man, the Baron, was on a level her mind didn’t want to comprehend. She imagined what she felt was the same thing a rat did when a terrier shook it, and she expected dealing with this would end the same way for her as it did for the rodent.

  “Feed it into the flame,” she mumbled to herself, raising her head to watch the landscape whiz by. She had to admit it helped, though only enough to stop her shaking hands. The silence in the truck’s cab stretched with each passing mile.

  Bella stared at the ceiling of her room as she lay back on her bed, waiting for Karina to return from her latest adventure in the city, and let her mind wander back to the long ride home. The silence in the truck became unbearable after about fifteen minutes so, almost against her better judgment, she’d asked Ray to tell her about the Baron and the truce he’d mentioned.

  He nodded, and after a few false starts, told the story.

  “Keep in mind, I only know what Mama Ade told me. If you want everything, you need to get it from her.”

  She nodded, keeping her eyes on him

  “You know anything Voodoo?”

  “Just what Mama Ade explained.”

  He paused as if to consider his next words before continuing.

  “Okay. So the Baron, the real Baron, is a Loa. You know…”

  “A spirit. Gotcha.”

  “Good. Well, Baron Samedi has been a part of New Orleans Voodoo forever and, because of his nature, is a dangerous spirit. But, he’s also the master of the dead, so he’s praised, asked for guidance and help, just like any other Loa. He’s rude and blasphemous, but he’s not evil. Got it?”

  She nodded, encouraging him to continue.

  “So, according to Mama Ade, a man named Samuel Johnson came to town a while back. Mama Ade says it was about a hundred and fifty years ago, but all I really know was it was before I was born. Anyway, Samuel was a Baptist preacher, coming to the Crescent City to bring the word of God. Voodoo was already being practiced here and he had a fool notion that he could turn New Orleans into something more in line with his belief.”

  “It didn’t go so well, I take it?”

  “Actually, it did. Voodoo isn’t like other religions, and a lot of the practitioners accepted it as being just another form of what they already believed. Think about it. Saints are spirits people pray to, the same as Loa, trying to get their help.”

  She could see the similarities but didn’t know enough about either religion to argue the differences.

  “Anyway, the preacher gets an invitation to watch a Voodoo ceremony. He shouldn’t have, though. It was a bad time. The Civil War was just over and even in the Big Easy, there was a lot of tension.”

  “So, here’s this preacher out in the middle of a sacred place where he had no right being, watching a ceremony he shouldn’t be watching, when something happens. Mama Ade says a snake, sent by the Loa to punish, bit him. I think someone attacked him for creeping around where he shouldn’t. Either way, he was on death’s door. The man was barely alive, they dragged him down to the ceremony. That’s when things went wrong.”

  “How so?”

  “Well, honestly, they should have let him die, but asked the Baron for help. You know what a Chwal is?”

  “No,” she said, shaking her head.

  “A Chwal is, well, how do I put it? A Chwal is a person who agrees to be ridden by a Loa.”

  “Ridden? You mean possessed.” She thought back to her experience with the Lank and shuddered. Possession was nothing to take lightly.

  “No. Possession is different. A Chwal lets the Loa in and can force it out if it wants, though that doesn’t happen often. Got it?”

  “Kind of. Anyway, go on.”

  “So, the priestess calls the Baron to ride the dying preacher. They dress him like the Baron, paint him up, and give him a cigar and a glass of whiskey. The preacher was possessed by the spirit of the Baron and brought back from the edge of death. Everyone was happy. Everyone but the preacher, anyway.”

  “I don’t understand. They just saved his life, shouldn’t he be happy?”

  “If it had been anyone else, I’m sure they would have been, but the preacher didn’t ask to be ridden. They forced the Loa into him, something that shouldn’t ever have happened. Mama Ade says that when it was finally forced out, the Loa left a bit of itself behind, and it drove the preacher crazy.”

  “How so?”

  “Well, the preacher disappeared that night and didn’t show up for weeks. When he did, he was still wearing the same clothes and painted like the Baron. I guess when his mind snapped, he came to believe he was the real Baron Samedi.

  “People thought he was a joke at first, ignoring him like they would any crazy person, but then things started happening. Small at first, not really noticeable, but getting larger.”

  “Like?”

  “Well, okay. First, he started showing up in places he shouldn’t be. No one knew how he was getting in, but there he’d be, like he just appeared. And he would disappear just as fast too, leaving nothing behind but cigar smoke. If that was it, no one would have thought twice about him. But then he started interrupting ceremonies and cursing practitioners.”

  “Why?”

  “For the fun of it, I guess. People started going to the Queens to ask for help, but they did nothing other than warn him to stay away. He ignored the warnings and kept doing whatever he wanted. The last straw, though, was when he started raising the dead.”

  “What? No. No, that’s impossible.”

  Ray shook his head. “Not for the new Baron.”

  “But how? I mean, it just isn’t possible. Dead is dead.” Well, there were some undead, like vampires, but once a soul went beyond the veil, there was no coming back.

  A smile played across his lips. “That’s the same thing the Queens said. They ignored the rumors until the mayor was killed by a runaway wagon. Nasty way to go, but everyone saw him lying dead in the street. Then the Baron appeared. He’d already started calling himself the Baron at that point. A minute later and the mayor was on his feet again. But something was wrong with him. He didn’t move or sound right
. People became afraid of him and ended up dragging him to the swamp.

  “The Queens held a meeting to decide on how they wanted to deal with him, but he broke in on it. Told them he was the real Baron Samedi and they needed to serve him.”

  “I bet that went over well.”

  “About as well as you think. They fought, and the way Mama Ade tells it, he was as strong as all the Queens put together. It was one of the Queen’s children, a daughter, that tipped the scales. They overpowered the Baron, but couldn’t banish him. If they tried to imprison him, he’d just disappear like he’d done before. They had no option but to form a truce. He’d do nothing against the people of New Orleans, and they’d leave him alone.”

  “And that worked?”

  “Not really. Like I said, he’s a slippery one. The compact said he couldn’t do anything against the people, but it said nothing about working with the people. The first chance he had, he started offering to help people.”

  “Help? Really?”

  “Hey, sometimes people get desperate. If your new baby is sick and no one can help, who do you turn to?”

  “Okay, I guess. But what about the cost? All magic has a price.”

  “True, but desperate people will pay any cost. Mostly though, he asks for things people are happy to give up.”

  “Like?”

  “Well,” he said, taking his eyes off the road for a second to look her up and down. “He might ask you for your hair braid, or maybe your sock. Maybe a button from your coat, or maybe even just a kiss.”

  “What? That doesn’t sound so bad. But why? What could he want with a button or,” she refused to let her mind wander on that one, “a sock?”

  “You know Hoodoo is based in belief, right?”

  “Yeah, so Mama Ade said.”

  “So you love that coat. It makes you feel powerful, beautiful, whatever. He now has a bit of your belief in the coat he can use to power his magic. It’s small, but small things add up.”

  “And the sock?”

  “Oh, that? I think he’s just got a fetish or something.” Ray barked out a short laugh.

  She couldn’t help smiling, and some tension in her shoulders melted away. There was, she considered, a lot more to learn about the magic down here, but she thought she was getting a handle on it.

  A few more miles passed before she asked the next question, one she’d been mulling over for some time and believed she knew the answer to.

  “Ray? Is the Baron, the one we met today, the same one from back then? I mean, he’d be almost two hundred years old, right?”

  He considered his answer before shrugging.

  “Mama Ade says he is, but me, I don’t think so. Even with magic, humans don’t live that long. Others maybe, but not humans.”

  She thought a moment longer before asking, “So what do you think he wants with all those bits of belief?”

  “Not even Mama Ade has a guess for that one. By her account, she thinks he could have used it to destroy the Queens a hundred years ago, but he runs away every time they get together.”

  It was a comforting thought, knowing someone with that much power was being kept in check.

  The rest of the trip back to the Bed and Breakfast had been a quiet one, broken by the occasional drifting melody of jazz playing somewhere in the distance. Karina was gone, but left a note saying when she’d be back, so Bella had the room to herself. Almost against her will, her eyes closed and she realized how exhausted she felt. It wasn’t much past noon, but it felt like she’d been running for days. A short nap wouldn’t hurt.

  Snuggling against her pillow, a cool breeze sneaking into the room from the cracked open window, she let the sounds of the city carry her away. The last thing she heard before falling asleep was the high-pitched sound of a trumpet being blown by someone far away.

  10

  “Come on, girl. Let’s go in here. I’m in desperate need of a refill.”

  Bella allowed Karina to pull her through the front doors of yet another bar. Since returning to the hotel and finding her asleep on the bed, Karina insisted it was time they went out to see Mardi Gras in full swing together. A short cab ride later and they found themselves in the French Quarter. Because of all the revelers in for the season, their driver couldn’t take them all the way to their destination, Bourbon Street, but got them close as he could.

  The mass of people moving back and forth was almost startling. She’d seen plenty of parades back home, but the number of people showing up for this made those look like a kid’s show. Bright, riotous colors clashed with each other as people jockeyed for position, either to watch the parades or to move through the crowd.

  Ignoring the people for a moment, she took in Bourbon Street itself. Bright neon signs hung from every wall and post, advertising food, drink and every entertainment imaginable. From where she stood, every building she could see was two stories with a balcony running around it, filled with partygoers intent on showing the world the fun they were having. Winding through the crowds, air filled with music and laughter, she couldn’t stop an overwhelming sense of euphoria washing over her. It was no wonder people came here yearly to celebrate. The place had a unique magic all its own.

  Dodging around a group of women wearing enough colored beads to drag down an elephant, the duo stopped into the first of many bars.

  This new bar was, in her opinion, what every bar should strive to be. Stepping across the threshold was almost a funnel experience. The main bar, twenty-five feet of dark mahogany, sat right next to the entrance. Behind the bar, rows of colored bottles glinted as they reflected both the overhead lighting and the shafts of light bouncing off the disco ball hanging over the center of the dance floor. A pony wall on her right, lined with seats and a small ledge covered in drinks, meant she and Karina had to pass almost the entire thing before they could make their way to one of the scattered tables.

  On the other side of the short wall, a three-foot stage kept the band from being overrun by dancers. The music the band played was such a mix of classic rock and New Orleans jazz that Bella kept straining her neck looking for CDs to buy. Telling Karina to keep an eye out for the sales table, and receiving an odd look in return, they made their way to an abandoned table. A short waitress wearing an Avoid the Mardi Gras hangover, just stay drunk t-shirt took their order and shuffled through the crowd.

  Bella’s skin tingled as the music washed over her. For the first time in what felt like forever, she was having some fun. Looking down, she blinked at her half empty glass. She’d ordered a spicy little thing called a Sazerac, but hadn’t remembered drinking any, though the spreading warmth in her stomach said she had. Shrugging, she downed the rest and let the alcohol suffuse her as she lost herself in the band’s music.

  When Karina grabbed her hand, pulling her to the dance floor, she found herself following eagerly. Pressing into the mass of dancers, she moved and swayed, gyrating in whatever way the music demanded. It was as if the tunes had a magic of their own and demanded her obedience. Regardless of the hot, sweaty crowd of dancers around them, it felt as if she and Karina were an island unto themselves.

  Songs came and went, and while the band didn’t flag, her feet did. They’d already walked half of Bourbon Street and it was time to rest. Slipping through the crowd, she found their table taken by other revelers but lucked out at finding a clear area at one of the long ledges protruding from the walls. Pulling up a seat, she sighed with contentment, marred only by the absence of her boyfriend.

  Pulling her phone from her pocket, she tapped the screen and stared at it in shocked silence. Even the charged and pumping music seemed to dim in her ears. In bright green letters, the front of her phone showed two missed calls, both from William.

  Heart pounding in her chest, she thumbed open her device. If he was leaving voice mails, or even just calling her, it meant he was near civilization. Her fingers shook from a combination of jittery excitement and an alcoholic buzz, causing her to miss the voice mail box and o
pen a game app. Growling, she closed it and tried again. When the box opened, she saw both missed calls and a single voice mail. Pressing play, she held the phone to her ear, covering the other with her free hand, and tried to listen.

  “Hey, babe,” the message began, but that was all she could make out. The electric thrum of her heart pounding along with the beat of the music and the concomitant noise of the crowd drowned out the small speakers of her phone.

  Rewinding it, she tried again with the same result. Her face twisted in an irritated snarl as she tried for the third time. However, before her irritation could turn to anger, Karina arrived with drinks in her hands for both of them.

  A surge of relief washed over her. Leaning in close, she told her about William’s message and asked her to save the spot. At the nod from her friend, she hurried out of the hot bar and into the cool night air.

  It had been early evening when they’d entered the bar, but it was now dark. Streetlights and neon signs were the only source of light on the street, but they were enough. With no cars allowed, the throngs of people moving back and forth had more space to move now, so it wasn’t such a claustrophobic experience. However, even with the added space, the noise was still too much, and she moved down the street and around the corner of the building.

  It was either her imagination or the alcohol, but even the side street was still too noisy for her to hear what William was saying. Irritation flared, but spying a small alley off to her right, she stepped into it and hit the play button for the fifth time.

  “Hey, babe.” The voice issuing from her phone was clean and crisp as mountain water and felt like a balm to her soul. “Hope you’re having fun. We’ve just made it to the city and we’re booked at the Presidente Hotel. I’m telling you, the name lies.” He laughed at his joke and she couldn’t stop the smile spreading across her face a mile long. “Anyway, we will head out for the Sao Paulo Airport tomorrow. Uncle talked the Aranea into giving us twice the sample size we wanted, but when we tried to open a doorway to the Circus, some of the sample disintegrated. He’s not sure why, but isn’t taking any chances. Sorry, I wanted to surprise you at Mardi Gras, but you’ll have to settle for me just coming home a little earlier than planned. Anyway, got to go. We’re supposed to be meeting—"