by R D Martin
Bella nodded and, dropping into her seat, stared at the Baron trying to break through the barrier. As long as he believed it kept him out, it would. His fist came down on the shield again, pounding away as though trying to beat a nail through a board. People had returned to their meals and conversations, with only children paying attention to the flashes of light. They giggled at each one as though it were a private single-hued fireworks show.
“So why does he keep beating at the shield? If he knows he can’t get through, wouldn’t he stop and leave?” Bella asked without looking away from the Baron pounding against the shield uselessly.
“He will, eventually, but for now, he’s building his own belief. As long as he keeps hitting it, he believes he’ll break through it in the end.”
“So shouldn’t we do something about him now? Attack or something?”
He looked at her as if she’d grown a second head. “And break the barrier? No. No, what we need to do is ignore him. If we do nothing against him, he’ll continue fighting against his own belief. If we do anything, he’ll see it as a crack in the barrier, our own belief he’ll get through, and it will crack.”
“So we do nothing?”
“Well, not nothing,” he replied. “For now, we eat and drink. Tomorrow, we’ll go out to the swamp and the rest of the family will clear out the house, pass out everything according to the will, and next time the Baron tries to get in, he won’t find more than stale crackers and palmetto bugs.” Laughing at his own joke, he turned his attention back to his plate, spooning up the molasses confection he’d been enjoying before.
She’d never seen anyone so calm with enemies at the gates, but it appeared everyone else shared the idea, odd though it was.
“Don’t,” Ray said around the mouthful of food he was trying to chew.
“What?”
“Don’t. You’re trying to analyze it. I get the same look when I try to figure out a hard bit of computer code.”
She hadn’t realized her thoughts were so transparent.
“So if I can’t analyze it, what am I supposed to do? Just accept it?”
Ray sighed and, dropping his fork, scooted his plate away.
“Think of it like this,” he said, sitting back and cupping his hands behind his head. In his relaxed position, he looked more like a professor than a computer programmer or mechanic. “How do a centipede’s feet all work together?”
“Is this a joke?” The centipede’s feet was a story everyone knew. A centipede, once asked how he kept all his feet moving, stopped to consider the question. The more he considered, the less his feet worked in unison until he could no longer move at all.
“Good, you’ve heard it. Did you ever hear the last part?”
“No,” she said after a moment, shaking her head. She didn’t know there was a last part.
“Well, the centipede got so frustrated trying to figure out how to get his feet working in order that he lay curled up unable to move. Suddenly the shadow of a big black raven flew overhead, and looking up, the centipede saw the bird was about to swoop down and gobble him up. Panic gripped the poor bug, and without thinking, it got up and ran under a bush. Safe from the bird, it knew it had two choices, stop thinking about how its feet worked or curl up in a ball, unable to move again. What do you think it chose?”
“But that’s, well,” she didn’t want to say anything insulting, but found it hard to find the right words. “Well, it, it just doesn’t make sense.”
“Who said it had to? Belief plays a part of your magic too, doesn’t it?”
“Yes, but not that big of a part. It won’t make something out of nothing.” She swept her hand at the barrier as another ribbon of light flowed across its surface. The Baron hadn’t given up yet, and from his look of determination, he might never.
“Then maybe you need to look at it again. I know magic. I know it works, even if I can’t do any myself.” His face shifted through a series of emotions, everything from anger-tinged jealousy to saddened acceptance, before settling back in his usual grin. “Look around you. Everyone here believes the Baron will be kept out, so he is. They accept it as fact and that’s the end of it for them.”
“But what if they’re wrong?”
“They could be. He could break through the barrier, step across the line of brick dust and kill every one of us. He’s old and has more magic than anyone I’ve ever known, except Mama Ade. So why doesn’t he? It’s because his belief is keeping the magic flowing as well. He’s never been able to cross a line without beating it down first, and he’ll get through this one in time. Until then, he can’t.”
As much as she tried to force it to make sense, there was just something about it that felt so off, so different from what she knew. Shaking her head, she sat back in her own chair, staring at the Baron and watching his pounding fist send streamers of light dancing along the barrier’s edge.
A tap on her shoulder brought her out of her reverie and she shifted to see Karina, entranced by the light show as much as the children were, staring at the Baron as well.
“Bella, you want to tell me what’s going on now?”
Nodding, she stared at Karina for a moment, considering the best method to introduce her to the world of magic. At least with the Baron’s light show, she wouldn’t have to use any magic herself as proof. Perhaps she should start at the beginning, the same way her father taught her.
“So, Karina, have you ever heard the story of how the dinosaurs died out?” It would be a long story, and an even longer night, but the guilt weighing her down, crushing her chest every time she looked at her friend, began evaporating like a block of ice hit with a blowtorch. Even as she spoke though, she tried to push back that whispering voice in the back of her head, the one reminding her of her duty to inform the Imperium.
Still, being totally honest with her best friend and having her boyfriend returning soon, she found herself happy for the first time in a long while.
16
“Oh my gods, it stinks here,” she said, holding her nose against the brackish smell of the swamp.
“What are you talking about?” Ray sniffed the air, trying to find the source of the stench.
“This whole place, it, it stinks.”
She couldn’t understand how he didn’t smell it, but maybe he was just so used to it, he’d gone nose blind. The air hung thick with the salty smell of ocean water, but beneath that was something else. It was like she stood in the middle of a compost pile someone decided to flood with salt water. There was a miasma that, while not thick enough to make her feel like retching, still made her want to breathe through a mask. Or at the very least, squeeze her nose against the smell.
Standing on the slick dock, she took in the surrounding swamp. Trees with huge swollen roots thrust up through the water while Spanish moss hung from branches until its tips almost touched the water below. The treetops interlaced enough to cast most of the area around them into shadow, making her feel as though it were closer to dusk than noon.
Insects abounded everywhere, creating a symphony of cricking, chirping and buzzing that only lent itself to the spooky feeling of the area. Looking over the edge of the dock at the water below, she couldn’t help rubbing the back of her left hand. Her experience with bodies of water and what lay beneath them was not a pleasant one. Even through the greenish film that covered the surface, she could see movement below. She only hoped the stories of alligators being so thick they could be used for a bridge here was just something meant to entertain tourists and not a real warning.
It surprised her how close New Orleans was to an actual swamp. She’d expected a half hour drive at least, but in less than ten minutes, they’d left signs of civilization behind and, driving up a dirt track packed hard from years of vehicles passing over it, they’d arrived at Frank’s shop.
Staring at the shop made words like rickety and fire hazard jump to mind. Thinking back to her days working insurance, she would have charged the man the highest premium possi
ble. The wood plank building looked as though the only reason a stiff wind wouldn’t push it over was all the holes letting it through. A large whitewashed sign with Frank’s name painted in black hung over the entrance to the shack.
Stepping in, afraid the roof would fall on her if she moved too fast, she took in the collection of gear stowed inside, though if keeping it indoors was supposed to keep it dry, the building got a failing grade for that too. Ceiling rafters were lined with paddles, darkened and stained over years of exposure to elements and swamp muck. A broken ladder was nailed to the wall on her right, one of its long legs missing. From the rungs hung round orange and white life preservers. Life jackets hung from a few of the nearer rungs, though it looked like they might not hang much longer since their weight appeared to be pulling the rung from the wall.
A long glass case, dirty and crusted with mold at its edges, lined the far wall. Bella leaned in to take a closer look. The contents appeared to be a motley assortment of skulls, skins and anything else that could be found or poached from the swamp. An alligator head the size of a football had been preserved, mouth wide to show off rows of wicked looking teeth, and sat next to a snake, posed coiled and ready to strike. While the gator head looked like it was made of wax, the snake looked real enough it made her take a step back.
“Like it?” Frank’s voice boomed behind her as he and Ray entered. “Caught that guy sleeping in one of my boats. Near scared me to death, but I got him. I’ll sell him to you, a good price too.”
“Frank,” said Ray from beside him. “We’re just here to borrow the boat. She’s not looking for any of the cheap junk you keep flogging on tourists.”
“Cheap? That there’s a bayou snake, caught fair and square. Did the preserving myself. Ain’t nothing cheap about it.”
“Yeah? And how much you selling for?”
Frank mumbled something she couldn’t hear, but it sounded like a large number, and Ray’s laugh confirmed it.
“But I’ll give your girl a discount. Knock off a hundred. If she’s payin’ cash, I’ll even throw in some rattlesnake eggs.”
“Snake eggs?” she squeaked, looking around the room for any signs of a serpent nest.
“It’s a toy,” Ray said, seeing the panic in her face. He pointed to a small basket filled with brown envelopes bigger than a pack of gum. “Bend a paper clip, lace a button with a rubber band and attach the clip. Wind it up and slide it in the envelope. Someone picks it up, and the button spins, making it sound like there’s a snake in it.”
She eyed the basket for a moment before letting a sly grin slide across her face. Karina would get a kick out of one of these. Even better, she could tease the crap out of Cat. Imagining her feline familiar jumping around at the sounds coming from the brown paper packages caused a small, smug ball of warmth to form in her stomach. Picking up one on the way home was going on the list.
“Boat ready?” Ray asked after a few more moments of conversation. Frank led them out to an aluminum contraption that, in her opinion, could only be called a boat because it floated.
She guessed it was about twelve feet long and six wide. The dirty silver craft sat on the water and bobbed with each passing wave. Half of the interior was taken up with a large driver’s seat on a raised platform. Behind the seat was a motor that looked like it belonged in an aircraft rather than a boat. The enormous propeller blade encased in a circular mesh cage helped this look. The sides of the boat were ten inches high at best.
Looking at the thing, she wondered if it could even hold her weight, much less two people, and imagined it filling with water as they stepped in.
“Ah, don’t worry so much,” said Frank, seeing the look on her face. “She may not look like much, but she’ll get you out and back safe enough. She’s a speed demon, too. Modified her myself. She’ll hit a hundred, hundred and ten easy.”
She couldn’t see how that was reassuring.
“Anyway, Cuz,” he continued, turning to Ray. “She’s gassed up, ready to go. Spare tank under the seat. We still got a deal, right?”
Ray nodded and a large grin broke out on his cousin’s face. His smile was almost a match for Ray’s and she could see the family resemblance.
“Radio if you need anything,” he said, turning and walking up the dock toward his ramshackle building.
“What did you promise him?” she asked after following his instructions on boarding the craft. Surprisingly, it didn’t sink in the water an inch. Frank’s building might fall apart, but at least the boat was sturdy.
The roar of the engine coming to life and the whirl of propeller blades cut through the noise of the swamp, and from the corner of her eye, she saw flashes of movement as animals scampered and dived in hasty disappearing acts.
“What’s that?” he asked, maneuvering the boat away from the dock.
“I asked what you promised him.”
“Oh, nothing big. He wants me to build him a new website and redo his SEO properties. Says customers aren’t coming around like they used to.”
“Not surprised. The way his building looks, they run away at first sight.”
He gave her a quizzical look before breaking out in deep throated laughter that carried above the engine’s noise.
“This isn’t his building. It’s his dad’s old shack.”
“Oh. But I thought…”
“You thought he was just some swamp bug trying to sketch out a few bucks here and there right?”
She nodded, embarrassed at being called out.
“Don’t worry about it. Frank likes to look like a country clod, but he’s one of the sharpest businessmen I know. Owns four tour companies, sits on the board of directors of a bank and museum, and has his fingers in more pies than I’d care to think about.”
“So why does he need you build him a new website? Couldn’t he hire someone to do it?”
Ray snorted. “Of course he could. Hell, he could hire a dozen people to do it.”
“So why you?”
Ray revved the engine a few times before engaging the propeller. The boat’s speed doubled and in short order, they were sliding out of the tree line and into what looked like a large estuary.
“So why you?” she asked again, clinging to the sides of her seat. The way the boat moved across the water’s surface reminded her of a coin sliding on top of a plate of glass. She wasn’t sure how he could control their movement so smoothly, but was glad for it. The last thing she wanted was to crash into a tree.
“He’s rich,” Ray said, maneuvering them around a bend in the water. “But he’s cheap. Won’t spend a dime he doesn’t have to. Hold on.”
He twisted his wrist, and the boat shot forward. Thrown back in her seat, she could do very little other than watch trees flash by in a green and gray blur.
17
She was just getting used to the boat’s speed and the way it seemed to bounce across the tips of waves when the motor cut out. Twisting in her seat, looking up at Ray, she was about to speak when he held out his hand.
“Are we—" she whispered, but the look he shot her killed anything more she wanted to say.
After a moment his face relaxed. Reaching down, he pulled a pole from the boat’s side compartment. In the few moments since he killed the propeller engine, the boat drifted to a stop. Using the pole, he pushed them toward a cluster of trees jutting up from the water.
“All right,” he said, breaking the silence between them. “We’re getting close, and the boat’s noise will carry a good way. There may be no one there, but if there is, we don’t want them knowing we’re coming.”
There was a loud splash to her left, and something green and scaly disappeared beneath the water’s surface. Despite the heat and humidity, she shivered. Too many stories flashed through her mind of people disappearing, being fed to gators and never seen again.
Closing her eyes, she opened her sight to magic and looked at the swamp through that multicolored lens. What she saw was so beautiful, it took her breath away. W
hile the visual spectrum of the swamp leaned toward variations of green and gray, the magical spectrum displayed colors she’d never seen. Swirling mists curlicued around trees, highlighting every branch and leaf. Through her magic sight, she could see the bayou filled with more life than she’d ever given it credit for. An entire ecosystem of animals made their living among the trees and scattered mounds of land able to lift themselves above the water’s surface.
Looking up, she caught sight of something moving in the canopy above. At first she thought it a bird flitting among the treetops, but as she looked closer, her breath caught in her lungs. The creature’s small size, along with its humanoid outline and darting movement, meant it could only be a fairy. She stared in awe as it moved from spot to spot, disappearing and reappearing as it moved. A moment later another one appeared, and the two moved around each other as though dancing to music only they heard.
She tried to get Ray’s attention, tried to get him to look at the creatures, but all he did was laugh.
“Most folks think the bayou is only for dangerous animals like snakes and gators. Actually, it’s the perfect home for anything with wings. Hard to access, no real predators able to climb even if they can swim. Birds pretty much rule everything here.”
“But faeries,” she said, pointing up at the canopy. How could he not get it?
“Yeah, them too. But I’d stay away if I were you.”
“What? Why?”
“Because faeries are mean, spiteful little creatures who’ll sink your boat and dance on your head while you drown.”
“Faeries? No. They’re so tiny and cute. How could they be so mean?”
“Look around,” Ray said, pointing to their surroundings. “Everything living out here tries to either blend in or stand out. Those trying to blend in don’t want to be noticed, either because they don’t want to be food or they don’t want to be seen by food. Those standing out want to be seen. Bright colors either scare predators away or attract other animals.”