by Alexie Aaron
“That’s your problem. Well, if you would excuse me.”
Mia didn’t know how it happened, but it appeared that Mr. Dun collided with Father Peter and tripped over the bench. Both men fell down. After many false expressions of worry over the other, the two men got up. Mr. Dun left.
“Another great impression by yours truly,” Father Peter said red-faced. “Can you imagine me a Pope?”
“Yes, you would make a damn good one,” Mia said, drawing a glare from Ralph and Murphy. She looked back and asked, “What?”
“I’m sorry, folks, about the misunderstanding. Let me take you through to the gift shop, and we’ll call this tour ended,” Caroline said, rubbing her temples. “I think, I’ll have a little lie-down.”
“I take the peoples out,” Howard said.
“Thank you.”
“Follow me please.” Howard waited until Caroline had left the courtyard before speaking. “The other ring, the missin’ one, it had the key to the padlock. I just wanted you to know,” he said.
“Thank you, Howard, you’ve helped us a lot.”
They walked into the main courtyard. Mia looked back and asked, “Those bricked up windows, are they part of the museum or the old house?”
“They were old Albert Cully’s room. He died in there. That’s why the family won’t let the museum have it. They haven’t been in there to sort out his stuff yet.”
“How long has it been since Albert died?”
“Thirty-five years.”
“Thirty-five years, and no one has sorted through his things yet?”
“Yes, miss.” Howard opened the door and escorted them into the gift shop. Aside from a book on the Cully collection, there wasn’t anything that interested the trio. Ralph bought the book, and the four left.
“May I buy you two a coffee and perhaps some beignets?” Father Peter asked. “It’s still early, and I’m not expected back for a while.”
“Sounds like a great idea,” Mia said.
“Beignets, oh dear, I’m going to need to have my wedding suit let out again,” Ralph said.
They followed the priest into the café and chose a table in the courtyard at which to enjoy the pastries. The priest handed each a coffee, and they settled down to indulge. Murphy spent his time looking at the ornamental trees growing in the large pots on the patio.
Father Peter dusted off his hands. “You know we have to go back there, perhaps tonight after closing?”
“Yes, but aside from me taking the Sean Edward’s way into the building, we’re out of luck.”
“Not entirely,” Father Peter said, holding up a set of keys.
“Did Howard give you those?”
“No, I lifted them from Mr. Dun. I didn’t like his attitude. We’ll leave them inside the door before we leave. It will teach the man humility.”
Murphy pushed his hat back on his head in amazement.
Chapter Nineteen
Mia and Ralph took their time checking out the art galleries on the way back to the hotel. Mia caught Ralph taking covert pictures of what he was convinced were appropriate wedding gifts for him and Bernard. “Sometimes you have to lead them by the nose,” he said.
Mia, who noticed there weren’t any price tags, whispered, “I don’t think most of your guests can afford these.”
“Everything can be bargained down. Besides, my family is rolling in money, Mia. I think we have gangster roots.”
“With the name Mendelssohn, I expected music. How about you, Murphy?”
Murphy shrugged his shoulders. He was studying a series of birch trees painted in non-birch tree colors.
“Those look like Dr. Seuss trees,” Mia said and started to recite Horton Hears a Who. “On the fifteen of May, in the Jungle of Nool…”
Ralph moved along to another series of trees, this time, stately oaks dripping with moss. “You know if you applied yourself, you could recite poetry.”
Mia stopped and argued, “This is poetry. Brian loves it.”
“You loved it too.”
“I still do. Come on, Ralph, you would act out these books for me. You must remember something?”
“I do not like green eggs and ham, I do not like them Sam I am,” Ralph said proudly. “Of course I know them. Thanks to you, I know them all.”
“I loved you for reading to me, Ralph. You were my best mommy.”
“I’m still your best mommy,” Ralph reminded her.
“Yes, indeed.”
“Oh look, more trees,” Mia said as they rounded the corner of the gallery. “Is this place called Trees are Us?”
“You’re a philistine. Besides, I figured Murphy could enjoy himself. I noticed that you don’t have any paintings in your home. You must expand yourself. Otherwise, Brian is going to grow up and think that a Marvel comic is all there is to art.”
“I don’t have any paintings because… well… Okay, it has to do with Sherry.”
“Sherry who?”
“Whit’s wife Sherry.”
“Oh, that one. She was an abstract artist if memory serves me.”
“Yes, she put so much into her art that the pictures actually contained parts of her soul. I don’t want to take the chance and contaminate my house with… you know.”
Ralph looked at Mia and shook his head. Then he moved her in front of a painting of a willow by the riverside. “How does this make you feel?”
“Happy, serene, calm.”
“Do you pick up any nasty vibes?”
Mia looked around and took off her glove and put her hand as close to the painting as she could without touching it. “The painter was happy the day she painted it. She found out she was pregnant. She had to pee and…”
“Whoa, you got that all from that?”
“I didn’t even touch it. Had I touched it, I would have been able to tell the baby’s heartbeat.”
Ralph looked at her in stunned silence.
Mia cracked a smile.
“Oh, you little scamp, you had me there!” he cried.
Mia noticed that Murphy was looking at the painting too.
“Murph, how does that painting make you feel?” she asked in a low voice.
“Summertime,” he said so Ralph could hear too.
“It makes him feel or remember summertime,” Mia said softly. “I wonder how much it is?”
Ralph raised his hand. One of the loitering clerks all but ran over to them.
“Yes?”
“Tell me about this artist.”
“Shelby Trueblood has been painting her trees for about ten years. She’s just recently decided to use oil paints instead of watercolors. She’s local. I may have a bio card of hers,” the clerk said and walked smartly back to the desk and began sifting through the piles of biographies stacked there.
“She’s got her own bio card. We can’t afford her,” Mia whined.
“Here we go,” the clerk said, handing the card to Ralph.
Mia took a deep breath and asked, “How much is the painting?”
“Twenty-four hundred dollars.”
Mia frowned, not because she didn’t think the painting was worth that much but because she couldn’t afford it. “Thank you for the information. We’ve got some thinking to do.”
The clerk gave her a smirk. Mia felt bad. She knew that he knew that she couldn’t afford the painting. The clerk turned to Ralph who had just finished reading the bio card. “I’ll take it,” he said, surprising both Mia and the clerk. “I need you to have it wrapped for an airline flight and send it to the Marriott.”
“Yes sir,” the clerk said, taking Ralph’s Amex with him.
“Whoa, Ralph, you have a wedding to save for,” Mia said.
“I like the painting, and you and Murphy like it too. You need something that will make you feel happy, serene and calm when you look at it, and I need to know that my grand godson isn’t growing up in a culture-starved home.”
Mia kissed Ralph on the cheek. “You are wonderful,” she said.
Mia left to complete the transaction, and Ralph thought he felt a pat on his back. He thought a moment and said, “You’re welcome, Stephen.”
~
Mia and Murphy spent the rest of the day being tourists while Ralph went back to the Marriott to work on his designs. The duo walked to the Mississippi and watched the ships come into port. Mia had just sat down on a bench to rest her bad leg when they heard a steam-powered calliope playing. She looked in the direction the sound came from and saw that the calliope player already had attracted quite a crowd. Curious, Murphy floated down to it and came back.
“Paddleboat!” he said with excitement. He pulled Mia to her feet.
She let herself be pulled towards the commotion, and sure enough, a steam-powered tour boat was moored, waiting for a few hundred tourists to board her. Mia walked over and looked at the admission. The fee seemed fair. She almost asked for two tickets when she realized that Murphy didn’t need one.
Mia boarded the ship after having her picture taken in front of a ship’s wheel. She looked around her, and aside from Murphy, she didn’t see any ghosts. She found a spot at the front of the boat, and she sat down. Murphy would wander the ship during the tour. She wouldn’t be surprised if he was in the engine room right now. Mia watched the scenery as the boat moved lazily around the Port of New Orleans. She took in the energy of the river and wondered if Murphy was getting high from it. Being on the water, for once, wouldn’t be draining. Monique told her that there was a group of people who believed that the water that moved through this port was energized and special.
“Looks like river water to me.”
“Actually, it’s got a bit of Lake Pontchartrain in it too,” a familiar male voice said beside her.
Mia turned to see Judge Roumain, decked out in a white linen leisure suit and straw hat. His black skin seemed to absorb the midafternoon light.
“What’s the matter? Cat got your tongue?”
“I was captivated by your suit. Are you real, or am I talking to an empty chair?”
“Oh, I’m real enough. Touch me if you have any doubts.”
Mia lifted an eyebrow and poked the entity. He actually winced.
“Not so hard, young woman, you’re wrinkling my suit.”
Mia turned back and looked out at the river. “So what brings you here?”
“You. I wanted to advise you. You and your knight seemed to be busy taking in the town, so I decided to come to you.”
“Well that was kind of you. Murph and I are taking in the scenery. He’s off somewhere on the boat.”
“Have you seen the soul eater yet?”
“No, but I think I have the name of the culprit that started off this tragedy. Sean Edwards.”
“Sean, I’ve had him on my radar for some time now. He’s a rascal. He likes to push the envelope. Even as a wee boy he was testing himself, authority, and the laws of nature.”
“Do you think he has the knowledge to summon a soul eater?”
“No. I think he may be its first sacrifice though. He hasn’t shown up in purgatory, but I don’t feel him on earth either.”
“Could he have gone straight to hell?”
The judge smiled. “Hell is not exactly what you think it is, Mia. But no, I don’t sense him there either. I agree with you that Sean Edwards is, as you say, the culprit. I see you’re wearing a Gris Gris bag.”
“A gift from a worried grandmother,” Mia explained.
“May I?” he asked, holding out his elegant hand.
Mia untied the strings and handed the Gris Gris to the judge.
“This is very powerful. The witch who made it has a firm connection to beings I haven’t had the pleasure in conversing with in a while. I’ll be interested if this indeed brings you luck.”
“Oh no, it’s not for luck,” Mia said, retying the bag around her neck. “It’s to save the day.”
“A bunch of herbs and magic is going to save the day?” he questioned.
“Yes.”
“Perhaps if you believe it will, then it won’t fail you. I think though, don’t rely on it so much as your wits and strengths.”
“If I fail, do you have a plan B?” Mia asked as she watched a large ocean bound freighter pass them.
“There is talk, but, Mia, the help will come too late for this city.”
“Then you’d better advise me because I have a feeling that the soul eater and I are going to lock horns tonight.”
“The way the soul eater works is that it adopts the persona of the last soul it takes. Let’s say, for example, that it took Stephen Murphy. He would then be Stephen Murphy but not. Could be, he wouldn’t have his axe or, perhaps, the glint in his eye would be different. You will have to be vigilant. It works very fast. It is one of the most efficient killing machines that has ever been created.”
“Why does it exist in the first place?” Mia asked.
“Greed, hate and thirst for power are the impetus for bringing forth such evil things. If you humans could learn to combat greed with sharing, hate with compassion, and, most importantly, understand that power is fleeting.”
“Power is fleeting…” Mia pondered.
Murphy cleared his voice. “It’s like a gunslinger bragging he shot and killed the fastest draw in the west, and then he is killed by someone wanting the reputation of killing the man who shot the fastest draw in the west.”
“Yes, most excellent. Hello, Mr. Murphy, are you enjoying your short time in N’awlins?”
Murphy nodded. “Fine city, lots of energy, and…”
“A good appreciation for the dead. Tell me, have you visited a graveyard yet?”
Both Mia and Murphy shook their heads.
“Do so before you leave. You’ll find the ovens most interesting. I won’t spoil it for you, but I’d be interested in what your reactions are.”
“Any last words?”
“Don’t bring Ralph. This is beyond him. He will be scarred for life, if he survives.”
“What about Father Peter?”
“You can trust him, but he too will be scarred. His dogma will take a few hits, but he will survive if you survive. Mia, this may be our last meeting.”
“Have more faith in me, Roumain. I can surprise you.”
“I hope so, my dear, I hope so.”
He got up and said, “I’m going to have me one of those Bloody Marys before I go. They make them very spicy here.”
“Careful, don’t spill it on your new suit,” Mia cautioned.
He turned for a moment and looked deep into Mia’s eyes before replying, “I’ll be careful if you will.”
“Deal,” Mia said, not blinking. She held her stare until the judge looked away.
Murphy moved between Mia and the judge. She smiled at him. “Did you find the engine room?”
“Yes! Come,” he said.
Mia followed him, pushing away the fear. She needed to stay positive. She was going to find the soul eater and shut him down tonight. In the meantime, she would enjoy the company of Stephen Murphy in the Big Easy.
~
Father Peter sat in quiet reflection. He had gone to confession and taken the holy supper. He considered the choices he had made in his life and, also, how the Lord had called and guided him. Never had he lost faith in his calling. Sure, he had suffered some disappointments, and his life’s path had been altered, but he never lost the feeling of satisfaction for saving a lost soul and directing them to the higher power. Now he was being called to do the near impossible, to stop a soul eater from taking the souls of N’awlin’s dead and, soon, the living. His only weapons were his faith and a little woman from the north and her faithful companion. Together they must defeat this devil from the dark world. If not, he vowed he would die trying.
~
“What do you mean I’m not going?” Ralph asked. “I promised your husband to look out for you, and I’m not going back on my promise.”
Mia caught hold of one of the flailing arms and directed her godfather to a
chair and sat him down. “Listen to me. I need you here. I need to direct all my attention to this thing. How can I focus if I know there is the slightest chance that Brian is going to be left alone with only Ted to guide him? What about the arts? What about all the things you can teach him for me?”
“You make a good point. I don’t have the slightest idea how to combat a paranormal entity. And you do have Murphy. Alright, I’ll stay.”
“Now you need to listen to me. If I don’t come back by dawn, you need to leave this city posthaste. And prepare to take my family to safety if this thing moves north.”
“I don’t want you to do this, Mia, but I know you’re going to do it anyway. So I’ll give you all my inner strength.”
“Thank you, Ralph. Once again you’ve come through for me. How lucky I am to have you in my life. You’ve taught me to fight and not simply accept my lot in life. You’re an inspiration. Don’t worry, I think I’ll be around to explain to Ted why I’m taking down the poster of Boba Fett and replacing him with a tree.”
Ralph smiled. “Don’t worry, I’ll back you up with Ted. For the soul eater, you have Murphy and the priest, heaven help you all.”
~
Mia walked along in the crowd of revelers. Evidently, it wasn’t unusual for sporadic post- Mardi Gras parties to pop up here and there along the famous street. Most visitors were primed from the midmorning’s Bloody Marys to the afternoon’s Gin and Tonics to the evening’s whatever passes the lips. The fragrance of Bourbon Street was sweat and booze. Mia did get a whiff of weed from time to time. The air of no care had permeated all who served the weary travelers tonight.
Mia wore a non-descript hoodie and a cat mask. No one did a double take upon seeing her. Mia’s reasons for the mask had nothing to do with fashion. She didn’t want to have her last photos be of a woman breaking into a respectable museum. Father Peter had suggested it. He knew that the street was filled with security cameras. He, too, didn’t want to be identified. He warned her that he, also, would be dressed differently.
Murphy came as he was. If a camera did happen to pick up his image, no one would believe that N’awlin’s finest let an axe-carrying farmer walk down the middle of the street unchallenged.