by Dale Lucas
That might be coming. Kalfou would not forget this insult. Nonetheless, the Haunter of the Crossroads was almost never invoked by sensible vodouisants. Dr. Dub Corveaux could breathe a sigh of relief. It might be some time before Dread Kalfou found someone on this side to facilitate his vengeance, and by then, the good doctor's three patrons—Legba, Erzulie, and Ogou—would have gathered their energies, warded their charge's sanctum, and prepared themselves and he—their champion—for the retaliation to come.
They assured him of this just as they left him with the sunrise. Unhorsed, the Dread Baron slept and Dr. Dub Corveaux descended his secret staircase to wash the night's terror off of him. Once he was clean and dressed, he skipped breakfast and hurried out, knowing that he had a patient to attend to.
XX
Dr. Dub Corveaux found a smiling, teary-eyed Fralene Farnes awaiting him at the Reverend Barnabus Farnes's house. He opened his eyes just before sunrise, she said, going from comatose unconsciousness to wide-eyed, staring disbelief in the blink of an eye. The old man woke in a fright, panting as though he'd just run a race, and his eyes darted all around the room as though he were shocked as could be that he found himself there.
According to Fralene, the reverend's first words were, "Where's the Hoodoo Man?"
"Is that right?" Dub asked, doing his best to feign disbelief.
Fralene insisted that it was so as she led him up the stairs to her uncle's bedroom. "It's true. He said that the Cemetery Man found him on the other side. He showed him the way back home."
Dub only offered a little incredulity. After all, they had all been through a great deal in the past few days. Why should he still disbelieve now that evidence incontrovertibly supported the existence of a potent spirit world and the availability of magic for use or misuse by any interested party?
Fralene stopped him just outside the Reverend Farnes's bedroom. "It's been a long night," she said, looking into the doctor's eyes. "I'm glad he's safe—so, so glad—but I think seeing you again does me good. More good than I can say."
"I learned some things," Dr. Corveaux said. "I've been out all night, following some very tenuous leads that finally led me to a very unfortunate realization."
"What did you find?" Fralene asked.
"Let's discuss it together," the doctor said, nodding toward the reverend's bedroom. "So I only have to go over it once."
Fralene agreed and led him into her uncle's bedroom. The Reverend Brown, sat in a chair at the Reverend Farnes's bedside. Beau at the Reverend Farnes's opposite elbow. The two old men, Farnes and Brown, had their hands clasped and tears shone in their eyes. It was clear to Dr. Dub Corveaux in that moment that the two old men were the very best of friends—the closest and most precious sort—and that their separation had been hard on both of them.
The reverend gave Dr. Corveaux a strange look when he saw him. "Good morning," the old pastor said with a crooked smile and a strange pause, "doctor."
Dub didn't know what to make of that.
He pulled up a chair and they pieced it all together, bit by bit.
XX
The doctor had backtracked over the reverend's footsteps on the day of the onset of his 'fugue state' as he jokingly referred to it. At Dexter's, where Fralene and the reverend had breakfast, the doctor had gotten a sense that one of the fry cooks, Jimmy, was hiding something. He had cornered the young man in the alley, in the dark, and urged some cooperation. Young Jim had admitted that the hoodoo lady, Mambo Rae Rae, had given him some strange packet of powder to put in the reverend's food and promised the young man some love and affection in return for his cooperation.
"So what did the powder do?" Fralene asked.
Dr. Corveaux explained that—based on what little he knew of vodou and its practice—such powders were often used to plant a curse, or 'prepare the way.' The spirit (a practicioner might say) was already summoned, but the reverend's body needed to be weakened, its natural defenses subverted so that the spirit summoned could take up residence.
"Hence your flu-like symptoms," the doctor offered in summation. "That was part of the curse. The precursor."
"Did you learn all this from that Gooden woman?" the Reverend Brown asked.
"No, sir, I did not," Dr. Corveaux answered. "Because she was dead."
He told them of what he'd found and reached the same conclusions. He simply left out the part about summoning her spirit or bearing witness to her final surrender to the hellhounds. "The way I figure it," the doctor surmised, "based on finding her dead like that, she was hired to give you that powder and get you possessed. Then, whoever hired her offed her so that she couldn't talk."
"That poor woman," the Reverend Brown said.
"She played with fire," Beau muttered, almost to himself.
"She got what she deserved," Fralene said coldly.
"So, who was it?" the Reverend Farnes asked. "Who hired her?"
Dr. Dub Corveaux shrugged. "That part, I don't know. But I think it's safe to assume it's the same gangsters who tried to disband the HCCB." He paused then, not sure how the news to follow would affect them. "There's more. Apparently, the gunmen who came here last night weren't the only gunmen loose in Harlem last evening. I saw in the paper this morning that someone gunned down Ms. Walker and her husband. And word on the street is Mr. Debbs is now missing."
"My God," the Reverend Farnes said. He and Brown shared grief-stricken looks. Dub Corveaux knew those looks well. They were the gazes of two men who had survived a charge across No Man's Land or an artillery bombardment—but who also realized that some of their closest friends had not.
A long, unpleasant silence fell as they all absorbed what had happened.
Reverend Brown was the one to finally break it. "But, to hire a voodoo priestess to put a curse on Barney," he said. "That's positively insane."
"It worked, didn't it?" Beau asked.
"But where would they even get such a notion?" the Reverend Brown asked. "Don't misunderstand, none of us can deny that the supernatural exists after the things we've seen. But, surely, most people don't take such things for granted, do they?"
"Criminals are a superstitious and cowardly lot," Fralene said, and her voice still had that bitter coldness in it, as though her hatred didn't know where to go. "Why shouldn't they try to put a curse on my uncle, if killing him outright didn't work?"
"Maybe something gave them the idea," the Reverend Farnes said. "Something they saw. Someone who's been giving them trouble."
He looked right at Dr. Corveaux as he made these statements.
Dr. Dub Corveaux rose from his chair, suddenly very uncomfortable. "Fralene, I need a little privacy to examine your uncle. And I think we could all use some coffee. What say you go brew some?"
"And breakfast," the Reverend Brown said, also rising. "Come on, Beau. Let's help your sister and leave the doctor with his patient for a bit."
"I'll be here," the doctor said. "I just want to give your uncle the once-over. Make sure he's all right."
Fralene, Beau and the Reverend Brown all nodded and left and went downstairs. Dr. Dub Corveaux was left alone with the Reverend Farnes. For a long time, the two stared at each other.
"Thank you," the Reverend Farnes said.
“My part in this was very small,” the doctor answered.
“Hardly,” the reverend answered. “Coming all the way to the other side to drag me back?”
The doctor was speechless. The reverend smiled a little, but it was a sad, suspicious smile, not a joyful one.
It was being on the other side, the doctor thought. It gave him the sight. It allowed him to see through a great many things, including my disguise.
Dr. Dub Corveaux lowered his eyes. Suddenly, he felt very ashamed under the Reverend Barnabus Farnes’s stern gaze.
“It was the very least I could do,” the doctor said.
“Let’s make this quick and easy,” the reverend said, staring up at him from the bed but still seeming to look down on him like a schoolma
ster. “You’re both of age, so I can’t tell either of you to keep away from the other. Likewise, I don’t think I can tell her the truth, nor do I think you would. Not yet, anyway.”
Dub nodded, but kept his eyes down. “Those are true statements.”
“I just want to know that she’ll be safe,” the reverend said. “She and Beau.”
Dub raised his eyes. He wanted the reverend to see that he meant what he was about to say.
“I love her,” he said.
“I know,” the reverend answered. “But you’re also in danger… constantly. So everyone around you is in danger, too. As a loud-mouthed crusader, I ought to know.”
Dub nodded. “I know. But let me remind you that you got yourself into this mess. I had nothing to do with it.”
“Half true,” the reverend said. “I got myself into this mess. And henceforth, I can assure you, good doctor, I’ll pick my battles. Can you say the same?”
Dub didn’t answer.
“Likewise,” the reverend continued, “I wasn’t kidding when I said that those men who wanted me dead got their notions about curses and hexes from something they’d seen. That other fellow—the one who yanked me back from the other side—he strikes fear into them and he wages his war with powers I don’t understand, but the very fact of his being—the things he does—proves to all those that he’s fighting against that there are more potent powers in this world than dynamite and machine guns. If you can use them, so can they.”
Dub couldn’t argue with that. The reverend was right.
“So those are the only two warnings I’m going to give you,” the reverend said. “You do whatever you have to do to keep her safe. And you never, ever forget that, sooner or later. As you sow, so you shall reap.”
Dub nodded. He couldn’t honestly say the thought hadn’t occurred to him before. He just didn’t want to admit it.
He thought he was fighting crime and corruption.
But he was just inspiring them… showing them the way to new tools, new weapons.
“All that being said,” the reverend finally added, “I want to thank you.”
He took the doctor’s hand. Squeezed it. When Dub looked into the old man’s eyes, he saw the glint of tears.
“Thank you,” the reverend said.
Dub squeezed his hand in return. “I don’t do this for thank yous,” he said with a sad smile, then turned and left the room.
XXX
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Dale Lucas is a novelist, screenwriter, civil servant, and arm-chair historian. He is the author of the novels Doc Voodoo: Aces & Eights and No Surrender. Dale’s short stories have appeared in Futuredaze: An Anthology of YA Science Fiction, Samsara: The Magazine of Suffering and Horror Garage, and his film reviews in The Orlando Sentinel.
He lives in St Petersburg, Florida.
Find him online at:
http://www.facebook.com/AuthorDaleLucas
http://www.AuthorDaleLucas.Wordpress.com
@DaleLucas114 (Twitter)