by Unknown
After several minutes of knocking on the wall, I discovered a rather large square area that was hollow. It was smaller than most conventional doors, although there was most certainly something behind that wall. I assumed it was some sort of hidden door with a secret room behind it. Well, what I’ve learned about life is that, when some kind of mechanism is not working the way you want it to, smack it. Beat on it until it does.
I placed my foot on the wall towards the outer region of the outlined section and kicked it as hard as I could. I heard a distinct cracking sound. Worried that I’d broken the plaster or drywall, I checked. No cracked drywall, but the gap of the creased opening had grown. I kept kicking the area until I had a sufficient enough gap to wedge my hands into. The doorway, I wasn’t sure what else I could call it, was swinging outwards, so I pulled with all of my might. After a few minutes of hard yanking, it finally gave way and swung completely open. I was right, it was a doorway and there was in fact, what appeared to be a small hidden room behind it.
I’d been without my phone the entire time we’d been in the swamp and there was very little doubt that my battery would have long since died, leaving me without my impromptu flashlight. There was no light spilling from the small room. I ran back towards the bedroom. It was a bit old school, but I remembered there being functional candles in there and a matchbook had been laying on the bedside table.
I sprinted back up the stairs with the objects clutched tightly in my hands, I had to hurry. I didn’t know how much longer Rhys would take tending to his business, though I would wager I didn’t have long. Hastily, I lit the candle, stuffed the matchbook into my rear pocket, and ducked into the small room. What was he hiding? I trusted him, but why had he shrugged off this area of the house? It hadn’t seemed too shady at the time, not even when I thought back on it. He had brushed it off.
“What are you hiding, oh mystery man of mine?” I whispered to myself.
The room had a small desk and a lamp standing next to it. The walls were covered in pictures and papers, but it was still too dark to make out. Moving to the desk, I inspected the lamp and found its pull string. I gave it a solid tug and instantly, the room was flooded with light. Blowing out the candle, I set it on the desk and turned to inspect what Rhys had been up to. What hung on the walls dazed me. A shocked gasp escaped my parted lips. I reached out to touch the images that lined the walls and scanned the small room. They covered at least three walls. I stumbled back with realization, tears threatening to burn my eyes.
“Maya?” Rhys called. Heavy footsteps padded down the hall, picking up pace and soon his hulking silhouette blocked the light that was filtering in through the secret door.
“What is all of this?” I demanded, pissed off, waving my hands towards the walls.
“This is what I have been working on.” He sounded grim, a disappointed set to his lips could be seen from the dim light of the lamp that was just barely illuminating his handsome features.
I tore a picture of myself in my apartment from the wall and threw it at him. He had told me on our way back that he had been tasked at a fairly young age of twenty to watch over me and make sure I was safe and protected. Seeing hundreds of images plastered over the walls was jolting to say the least.
“You took pictures of me inside my apartment? Oh my god! Were you watching me when I was in the bathroom and changing in my room, too?” My voice was climbing full octaves as I yelled at him. It made my skin crawl to think of all of the things he might have seen.
“No, never. I promise you, I didn’t take it farther than learning your habits and what you liked.”
I turned away from him. Could I really trust him? Why hide all of this if it was as innocent as all that?
The light caught a glimmer of gold. I saw it in my peripheral vision before turning to make my way towards it. It was a photo on the back wall, opposite the desk. Rhys’s eyes tracked my progress across the room until he saw exactly what I was heading towards.
“No. Stop!” He moved in a flash, trying to get between me and whatever was there. I struggled against him. Wiggling my way up him like a spider monkey so I was half hanging over his shoulder as he tried to put distance between the wall and me. He set me down at the sharp intake of air and the quick movement of my hands clapping over my mouth, and backed away, eyes averted.
I had seen the picture that had caught my eye. The one that he’d been so against me seeing. Hanging there was a very, very recent photograph of a golden haired woman in a pretty shabby state. Her eyes were terrified, bruises marked her face and arms disappearing beneath her torn clothes. She had a gash above her eyebrow and a split lip, but what was worse was that she was chained to exposed pipes in some sort of warehouse. Looking around there were two more photographs, one showing the poor girl being beaten and the other showing the same girl cowering in a darkened corner trying to make herself as small as possible. My heart broke and I didn’t bother to hold in the sobs that were tearing out of me. I ran my fingers over the photograph, wishing that I could comfort her just by my touch of the picture.
The girl was Angie.
I had let her down. She’d been through hell, clearly beaten and tortured. Who the hell knew what else those monsters had done to her.
“I’m so sorry, Maya. I didn’t want you to find out this way.”
I slapped him. His cheek turned bright red as my hand print burned across his face. He didn’t even flinch. I’m fairly certain I hurt my hand much worse than I hurt his face.
“You fucking saw her and you didn’t try to get her the fuck out? How could you, you fucking bastard?” I screamed at him with everything I had, clutching my palm to my chest; it was on fire. “I’ve been worried sick! You knew that! You knew where she was and that she wasn’t okay.” I was still seething.
“I didn’t take those pictures, an associate of mine did. Yes, I knew where she was, but you have to understand, it’s too dangerous to just charge right in there and save the day! That would be a suicide mission. Bacalou are crawling all over that place and Drake has more zombies than just Brad. That’s how he’s been as successful as he has been. He’s got a lot of help.”
I wasn’t sure what to make of his explanation. It made sense, yet I just didn’t want to believe that it was as hopeless as all that.
Hot angry tears continued to stream down my face. I cried for Angie and everything she had gone through on my behalf. All of that was happening because of me. People, innocent people at that, were suffering greatly because of me and because of some stupid deal that was struck over a hundred years ago. Damballah, the creator, had to be a seriously twisted individual to weave such a fate as all of that. How had my life become so fucked up? Was there a single point where I could have made a different decision and not been in that mess? I already knew that answer, it was a big fat no. It was in my blood, who I was meant to be, and that was exactly why I was having a hard time reconciling myself to all of it.
I sat down hard on the roughly hewn wooden floorboards of Rhys’s tiny secret room, hiccupping as the sobs began to die down. Hopeless, that’s how all of it felt, like the walls were closing in on me and there was no escape this time. In less than thirty-six hours, my fate would be sealed along with all of those around me. How could I succeed against such odds? Would we all make it out alive? I knew that it would be impossible for everyone to make it through unscathed. The pictures of Angie proved that.
“It’ll be okay.” Rhys sat down next to me and slung his arm about my shoulders. He was pulling me into him as he petted my hair. He made little calming noises like I was a skittish animal that could revolt at any moment. I knew that all of it, in reality, shouldn’t upset me as much as it was, however it was Angie. She was family when I’d had no one else in the world that cared. There was no other choice. I owed her that much. I needed to march on and get her the hell out of harm’s way. No matter what.
Chapter FOURTEEN
Every Good Rescue Mission Needs……. A Fairy??
&n
bsp; Rhys was good at comforting me. He knew exactly what I needed. It was more than likely to be attributed to the years of tirelessly watching my every move. He had apparently taken pretty good notes. After a quick pick me up snack of a pint of Haagen Dazs chocolate ice cream, which Rhys had taken the time to stock up on before my arrival, we had made our way back out into the Quarter.
He had a contact, or an associate that he knew and had worked with on several occasions, who had taken the pictures of Angie and knew where they were holding her. Drake likely wouldn’t be there, but Brad would and I had unfinished business with Brad. The prickle of magic stirred under my skin as my anger riled it up. How had I missed that sensation before?
With the autumn season in full swing, the temperatures were hot, although not as stifling as the summer when the tourists were usually swarming the city. Not today. It was unusually absent of tourists. It wasn’t yet dark so the curfews weren’t in effect yet, it was still curious. Was it the murders that had this big of an effect on tourism? It was peak season, yet the streets were empty.
We walked along the streets, crossing over to Bourbon Street. The dedicated partiers were still roaming about with large green drinks in hand. Those were the famous hand grenades, and the persistent were shouting to other party goers who were hanging over the railings of balconies throwing beads. We were heading to the Old Absinthe House, neutral ground and dark enough that no one would notice if anything funny happened. I wasn’t sure what to expect though. Rhys hadn’t given me much to go on other than to tell me that this fellow, Arlen was different. Different. What the hell did that mean when we are talking about the supernatural world?
The bar was situated some ways ahead. A figure clad in a black, leather jacket with a hood pulled up was leaning against the building just beside the door, but slipped inside and disappeared once it was obvious where we were heading. That must be Arlen, I thought, really inconspicuous. I rolled my eyes at the thought; black, leather jackets tend to make you stick out like a sore thumb, especially when it was warm enough for shorts and a t-shirt.
We slipped in behind him. I looked around, but didn’t see the man. Rhys tugged on my hand and pulled me towards the back corner. Ah, yes, there was Biker Boy, sitting in the corner alone. At least he’d taken off the hood.
We sat down across from him. Rhys placed me on the inside, wedged between the two men. I couldn’t stop staring. Now, I understood the hood.
Arlen had long, straight, dark purple hair that hung down to the middle of his back. Pointed ears stuck out slightly but noticeably from the sides of his head. Arlen was gorgeous. He easily gave Rhys a run for his money as the most beautiful man I had ever had the privilege to see. His eyes matched his hair, though they had a vivid iridescence to them. His nose was sharp, straight, and regal. His jaw and high cheekbones were all cut with sharp edges. In fact, everything about him was sharp and extremely well defined. On any other man all of this would have looked highly feminine, but not on him. He exuded power and masculinity in droves. There was something about him, though, something that I couldn’t quite place that made gooseflesh ripple over my skin. His cool observations of me set me on edge. I had absolutely no misconceptions- this man was very, very dangerous.
“Rhys. It has been a long time, my friend,” he said, standing and putting his arm out. The two men clasped arms in greeting, paying me no attention. I was stunned by his voice. It was so musical and surprisingly deep. It touched something deep inside me, like the plucking of a harp’s chord.
“Arlen, this is Maya, the girl I talked to you about. Her friend was the one in the pictures you took,” Rhys said, motioning to me. He swung his face in my direction. A ruthless smile played at the edges of his mouth.
“The famous Maya Thibodeau. A pleasure.”
The sound of his voice was holding me in an enraptured trance.
The jacket parted to reveal a translucent black shirt underneath that put the broad expanse of his heavily tattooed chest on display. He was tall, lithe, and deadly. His broad shoulders tapered down into a narrow waist with long legs. I hadn’t paid much attention when we’d entered, but he was so tall! He had to reach six foot four inches easily.
“Are you a fairy?” I squeaked.
The eyes and hair were too vivid not to be dyed, however they matched too perfectly. It was all natural. The pointed ears instantly shouted fairy to me, but who knew? He could have been an elf. Pixies, to my recollection were quite tiny creatures.
His mouth flattened into a thin line. I’d offended him.
“I am Fae, most certainly not a fairy,” he said with disgust.
I sought to Rhys for clarification, but just as his mouth opened to answer me, Arlen’s rhythmic voice chimed into explain.
“Fairies are in children’s tales that humans tell to the little ones. The humans never quite understood the difference between Fae factions so they just lumped them all together as fairies.” His voice sported the faintest hint of an accent, albeit it wasn’t one I was familiar with.
“You have information for us?” Rhys spoke up, effectively ending story time.
“Yes, I do. The girl is being held down by the river front. She looks to be in bad shape, and the way things have been going on about this city for the past week, I’d say she likely doesn’t have much time.”
I felt the all too familiar panic well up inside me. Would we be too late to save her? Would all of this be for nothing? I steeled myself against the possibility.
“Why didn’t you get her out when you were there the first time?” It shot from my lips before I could stop it. I had to know.
“Too many guards. It would’ve been a suicide mission to go in alone.” Arlen answered without pausing a beat or looking my way.
“Well, how the hell did you get in without being detected then?” My voice was rising to a near shout and a few bar patrons glanced our way.
His voice dropped low. “A lot of practice.”
Angie was depending on us and none of his explanations seemed like they were good enough to leave her waiting. “When can we move?” I piped up.
Arlen’s piercing heather eyes turned to me with renewed interest. He quirked one eyebrow. “We? I take it you think that you are going somewhere?”
“Arlen, I don’t see you winning this battle. Her head is hard as a rock and she’s as stubborn as an ox. There won’t be any changing her mind on the matter. She may even be an asset,” Rhys offered.
The man seemed exasperated.
Arlen put his hands up in surrender. I couldn’t help the satisfied grin that spread across my face at the small victory. Maybe Rhys had my back after all. Arlen let out a raucous laugh. It vibrated the air around the table. It wasn’t intimidating but it was surely a sight to behold.
“Where did she store your balls, friend? Does she give them back to you occasionally or do they stay in her purse and keep you that whipped?” His tone held a mix of humor and incredulousness.
I couldn’t help the giggle that escaped me. Arlen’s eyes flicked back and forth between the two of us, calculatingly. I wanted to know what he was thinking, what we looked like from an outsider’s perspective.
Steering us back on to the topic that we were there to discuss, I asked, “Again, when do we move in? The ritual will be set to take place tomorrow night and I want Angie out of harm’s way before then.”
The two men scooted closer to the table, ready to engage in some solid planning.
“What did you see? Is the man they call Drake there?” Rhys asked; he was much more experienced in such matters than I was.
“I’m not sure about any Drake fellow, but there are about six zombies walking around that place and all of them are never there at the same time. They frequently pop in and out. The chances of us being interrupted if we went in are pretty high.”
“Six on two? I like those odds,” Rhys answered with a sardonic smile, one that Arlen returned with similar enthusiasm.
“Three. Six on three,” I reminded
him, to which he promptly rolled his eyes right along with Arlen.
“I said there were about six hosts, I didn’t say that they were the only ones there. I’ve seen the occasional Bacalou hanging around, but they’re usually too hungry to stick around for very long. They have a ripe smorgasbord here in the city with so many unsuspecting drunk tourists. It’s nothing for them to pop in and drain their life force before leaving them unconscious and none the wiser,” Arlen explained.
They were feeding here? Was that what had happened out in the swamp when I was attacked? Was he feeding from me? My gut said yes as I remembered the distinct feeling of losing myself.
Rhys’s face no longer showed as much enthusiasm for the coming fight and Arlen had a grave expression since mentioning all that we would have to overcome in order to get Angie and ourselves out safely. I just had to think. A well laid plan mixed with a good amount of magic could have potential.
Moonbeam. She could help find a way to cloak our presence and sneak in unnoticed. Her guidance paired with my magic, it could be possible. It wasn’t until I realized both men had quit talking and were staring at me, mouths agape that I understood that I had spoken aloud.
Rhys cocked his head a bit. He had that distinct look upon his face, like he’d had some kind of revelation. The edges of Arlen’s lips curled a bit revealing perfect, startlingly white teeth.
“Rhys? Can she?” Arlen’s question showed just how much I’d been underestimated. I would have to prove myself capable if I ever expected to defeat Drake and lead the people I was prophesized to lead. I bit my lip, waiting to see what Rhys would have to say. If he didn’t have as much faith in me as I’d hoped, I knew I would be crushed. The little confidence I’d gathered and the ego boost the Baron had given me would be gone in an instant.