Sinsperationally Yours

by Prince, Nikki

  Danielle cuddled into Auréle's arms and together they drifted off to sleep in the flickering circle.

  ***

  Somewhere in the house, music began to play.

  "I'm comiiiin' foh yooooou," said a quiet sing song voice.

  Danielle and Auréle simultaneously jerked out of their incredibly peaceful slumber. "Oh my God, what was that?" Danielle whispered frantically. Instinctively, Auréle encircled her in a fierce, protective embrace.

  "I'm comiiiin' foh yooooou," came the lyrical Creole lilt once more.

  Anxiety constricted Danielle's chest in a vice grip of fear, stealing the breath from her lungs. Hot tears sprung to her eyes. "You said she couldn't get in here!" Danielle exclaimed, just as the attic door burst open and beautiful Toinette emerged into the room with a glittering wicked smile.

  Auréle glared into Toinette's eyes as he reluctantly released Danielle and stood.

  "She's conjured the wind," he growled in response to Danielle's question.

  Toinette cackled. "Tha's right, chile," Toinette delightedly informed Danielle with that Southern flavor in her voice Danielle normally would've found so appealing. Except in this case it was sinister and frightening. "I called up the wind, and blew yo' brick dust away." Everything she said was like a child singing her phrases to make fun of another.

  "Danielle, do not leave the circle. Conjuring the wind took a lot of her energy. And she can't come inside this circle here no matter what; no matter what she conjures! The only way she can harm you here is if you offer yourself! STAY INSIDE THE CIRCLE!"

  Danielle roosted on her haunches, circling her arms around her own knees. She buried her face into her knees and planted her hands over her ears, rocking to and fro.

  Toinette tittered again. "I think I can interest you in coming to me, chile," Toinette said softly, speaking right to Danielle.

  "Danielle, DO NOT listen to her, do not do a thing she says!"

  Danielle did her best to ignore Toinette, but the woman's magical voice seemed to come to her from inside her own mind.

  That's when the baby began to cry.

  Danielle's eyes opened involuntarily and she peeked at Toinette. She cast aside the folds of the black cape she was wearing and it became apparent she was holding a Caucasian, crying baby.

  "DANIELLE! DANIELLE! DO NOT LISTEN TO HER!" Aurélle cried desperately.

  But her eyes were now locked with Toinette's. Toinette grinned again. "I got yo' baaaabaaaae," she crooned.

  "NNOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" Danielle screamed.

  "Come on chile, I'll hand her over, jus' come on out the circle," Toinette whispered her evil encouragement.

  Sobbing, Danielle crawled toward the edge of the circle.

  "WAIT!" Auréle screamed. "Wait… I'll give you what you want, Toinette. Just don't hurt her. Or her baby," he pleaded, as he slowly stepped over the circle of burning candles. His shoulders slumped, every part of him demonstrating the despair of defeat.

  Toinette laughed a shrieking, unhinged sound enough to chill the dead. "FINALLY!" she screamed. She laid the baby on the floor and the baby shrieked as well. Danielle's head spun as she watched her lover kneel onto his knees before Toinette, tears pouring down his face.

  And then she spotted a large shard of glass, lying on the floor right outside the circle, from an attic window that had broken in the earlier display of banging windows and doors. Danielle frantically scurried to the edge of the circle, reached out and snatched up the glass. The shard bit into the flesh of her hand but she wasn't even aware of the pain as the blood poured.

  "No! No Auréle!" she declared with a sudden confidence that came from someplace deep inside her.

  She knew how to break the spell.

  She plunged the glass into her stomach.

  "NOOOOOOOO!" Toinette screamed, dropping to her knees. The last thing Danielle saw was Toinette's beautiful face warping and contorting into the ancient, deformed face of a Devil.

  And then Danielle died.

  Part 4: Blessed Be

  "Thank you for freeing my beloved once again, my darling," said Pascaline Mantagne. "I've been with you all your life, I knew you would be the one to free them."

  Joyful tears slipped down the flawless face of Danielle Mantagne as she stood face to face with her own great great grandmother who was the picture perfect replica of her. Pascaline carefully embraced her granddaughter, in a way as not to disturb the baby sleeping in Danielle's arms.

  "And you," she told Auréle, caressing his face. "I'm so proud of you, always. I've watched you too. And I'll watch you both, always."

  Auréle hugged Pascaline with one arm, leaving the other arm tightly around Danielle. "We'll not be going with you?" Auréle asked.

  Pascaline cast a bright smile on the newly formed forever family. "Not this time children. I'm finally able to return and bring my folks home. But you, you get to stay behind here in your own personal Heaven, Mantagne Winds, with no Toinette. No evil. Only joy while you love each other and the baby. Forever."

  One by one each of the freed slaves stopped in front of Auréle and Danielle, hugging them, giving tearful thanks. An amazing sight was watching when they finally turned and followed Pascaline slowly, disappearing into the trees.

  Outfoxed

  By Serena Reid

  ONE

  Min sipped her glass of champagne and grimaced. The bubbles had gone flat. Or maybe it was the stream of discordant notes rising into the heated darkness of the club. Open mic night at Denton's Den was always full of surprises. Min wished good music and even better champagne were on that list.

  She checked the clock over the bar. 11 o'clock. Greta was late. She resisted the urge to cover her ears as the red-faced musicians shrieked their way to a head-banging conclusion. Instead, she took a medicinal shot of champagne and considered ordering something stronger.

  Min frowned. It wasn't like Greta to be late for their monthly drinks and gossip. Greta might move slowly in the cold season, but in sunny Los Angeles only the most anti-social shifters chose to hibernate. Min felt an unaccustomed stab of worry. Her friend was of the Bear clan, but beggars couldn't be choosers when looking for companionship during self-imposed exile.

  Her cousin slid into the well-worn Naugahyde booth beside her. "Didja hear about Greta?" His nasal tones fairly twanged with suppressed excitement.

  Must be a juicy bit of gossip, Min thought. She yawned, revealing two rows of perfect white teeth the exact shade of her antique pearls. Min loved gossip as well as the next kit, but she wasn't about to let Denton think she wasn't down with the latest news on the street. "What about it?" Her short, crimson-lacquered nails clicked down the long sweep of her necklace.

  "Remember that bear on the news? The one that ran through the back yard in Sun Valley?" Denton leaned closer. His next words wafted in a garlic-scented wave that proved conclusively he'd been visiting the little pizzeria on the corner on the sly. "Looks like Greta will be doing her sunbathing in the LA Zoo from now on."

  Min's nails stilled in mid-click. "Hunters?" Her mind went into overdrive, detailing the arrangements she'd taken to hide her back trail the last time she visited Greta.

  Denton shook his head. A greasy lock of hair flopped over his right eye in an effect he undoubtedly intended to be debonair but instead came off as unkempt. "Worse," he confided in a hoarse whisper. "Animal Control."

  Min relaxed and sank back into the squeaky upholstery with a relieved laugh. "So she got a few trank darts shot up her ass? She's had worse trips at a weekend rave." Min's nails resumed their slide up and down the pearls. "I give it three hours until she picks the lock and slides right out of that cage.”

  "Unless a Hunter liberates her first."

  Min gave an involuntary jerk, spilling cheap bubbly on her vintage grapevine bracelet. She cursed herself as she mopped at the spill, annoyed at Denton's pleased smirk. Really, he should have been a cat, not a fox, considering how much he loved to unsettle her.

  "You better watch y
ourself on those little Mall trips of yours," Denton continued. His eyes gleamed with malicious pleasure. "Rumor has it your mother hired some Hunters to drag you back Otherside by your bushy tail."

  Min focused on the stage and pretended to ignore her cousin. Really, he would go on all night in this vein if he thought he could get a reaction. She shifted in her seat as the next performer adjusted the mic with a few capable twists. If his talents equaled his looks, she thought, they might finally have a winner. She admired the long line of jeans-clad legs as he hitched himself halfway onto the stool and strummed a soft chord.

  Denton held up the bottle of champagne. "More?" he asked, holding the bottle over her glass.

  "You can have it all." Min made a face and waved it away. She pretended not to notice as Denton chugged a drink straight from the bottle. Instead, her attention turned to the stage, caught by the string of notes rising from the battered guitar.

  "He's good." Min felt the music wash over her in a nearly visible stream, rising into the air like woodsmoke over the clatter of glasses and chatter of customers. It reminded her of the Renaissance lute music her unwitting landlords played in their vintage clothing shop.

  Denton snorted. "Here she goes again, picking up another innocent guy from my bar."

  "Oh please, he hardly looks innocent." Min eyed the broad shoulders curved over the wide golden wood of the guitar.

  "He hardly looks rich, either." Denton's voice oozed sarcasm. "Isn't money one of your requirements for your prey?"

  Min's lips quirked with her amused huff. "At least you recognize that I'm a predator."

  "A very small and bushy one, maybe."

  Min patted her flaming red curls. "Hey, I did my hair tonight. Which is more than you can say."

  Denton rolled his eyes and leaned in for the kill. "You know what I think? I think you'll never be happy until you find a guy you can't trap between your pretty little paws. A guy who'll chase your tail for all eternity."

  Min gave a light laugh. "Save your love advice for the cats, Dr. D."

  Denton slid out of the booth with a parting smirk, snagging the bottle on the way with a practiced swoop. Min ignored his antics and leaned back into the upholstery. She crossed her legs, enjoying the silken slide of thigh-high hose against the satin lining of her vintage skirt, and drank in the details of her chosen prey.

  Golden light from an overhead spotlight spilled softly on his bent head and broad shoulders, glimmered on the soft brush of steel strings. A working man, maybe construction, she mused, taking in the jeans faded from hard use and many washings, the scuffed work shoes made for rough ground. Her gaze lingered with a connoisseur's appreciation over the play of muscle revealed by the rolled-up sleeves of his white cotton shirt, the shadowed dip between the V of his unbuttoned collar. She shifted crossed legs again, lost in a sensuous reverie. This was a man, not a half-baked, hormone-ridden pup.

  She wondered how such a delicious nibble had chosen a tawdry pen like the Den to launch his musical career. Maybe he was a few fries short of a box. Even better. She lounged back, left arm stretched against the black leather to showcase her creamy skin, right arm toying suggestively with 72 inches of sensual spheres. Her half-lidded eyes a lá Marilyn beamed an invitation across the darkness. Come and get it. She waited for the inevitable acceptance.

  And waited.

  And waited.

  A song and two bars later, her left arm began to wobble. She gave in and let it slide to the seat, hiding her wince as the sticky plastic peeled away from her skin. 1970s wax job, oh joy. She rubbed her left forearm slowly with her right hand and hoped her quarry would interpret it as a sensual invitation rather than an attempt to restore circulation.

  Twelve bar blues later, Min decided it was time to take matters into her own paws. She beckoned to her cousin. "Send him a drink." She indicated the musician with a jerk of her pointed chin. "My compliments."

  "Oh, I think you want to send him more than just your compliments." Denton's scraggly goatee had pimp written all over it.

  Min ignored his snarky innuendo. "I won't need to send him anything. He'll bring it to me." She reached for her glass only to recall what it contained. "Be a lamb and bring me a peach margarita."

  Denton drew back with an angry snap. "No need to be insulting." He stalked off into the darkness behind her, angry mutters of "who's she calling a stinkin' sheep" drifting behind him from the direction of the bar.

  Min settled deeper into the cushions to wait. There was Denton, eeling his way through tables full of half-smashed customers, a mug of beer in one hand, a frosty glass in the other, just as loverboy slapped his hand down on the final chord. Lovely.

  Watched her prey turn with a pleased smile to take the mug from Denton's hand, fantasized about licking the drops of sweat from his tanned brow and sliding her tongue down his neck like the beer slid down his upturned throat. Yum. She licked her lips in unconscious imitation as he lowered the mug and ran the back of his hand over well-formed lips. Here we go, she thought. She watched Denton's mouth move, saw him jerk his chin in her direction. She arranged herself in a languorous pose in anticipation. Come to mama.

  Seconds ticked by. The musician finished the beer in a second deep swig and handed the empty glass to Denton. Now, Min thought, he'll come to me now, as he bent to lay his guitar in the empty case. She recrossed her legs and savored the heat that bloomed at times like this. Small blunt teeth the same shade as her pearls nipped at her lower lip before she forgot she was wearing Dior red lipstick. She passed the tip of her shell-pink tongue across her teeth to pick up any traces before he came...

  Over? Her eyes narrowed. What was the holdup? She was a hop and a few steps to his front, not way over there to the side. Where could he possibly be...oh. The sharp pop of a live amp clued her in, followed by the bright spark of silver. He was unhooking his cord.

  Min licked her lips again, tasting the rosewater used to freshen Dior's beeswax. Now this had some entertainment potential of its own. She hummed her appreciation and watched him coil the black rubbery cable over and over around bulging biceps. What she wouldn't give to have him spread out on red sheets, six feet of black cable coiled around his ankles. Wrists too. Better make it three lengths of cable, she mused, and throw a roadie in to help her, mmmm, manage--or would that be ménage?-- the set. Surely a stage like that would inspire all sorts of interesting rhythms.

  Min drank in the lines of his body as he bent to stow his equipment. Flexible. Athletic, too, from the easy way he hoisted the strap of his case over his shoulder. His face turned, his eyes searched the darkness. Min infused her welcoming smile with decades of practiced allure as she locked eyes with her prey at last. He nodded at her, one corner of his mouth lifted higher than the other adding a faint wicked spark to the rugged planes of his face. She allowed her answering smile to deepen and waited for his first steps to bring him closer. Watched the powerful ripple of chest and thigh muscles behind faded denim as her quarry stepped off the stage, onto the sticky floor...

  And out the side door.

  Min's skin burned with shocked humiliation.

  "You look like you could use a drink." The frosty edge of a margarita glass slid up against her arm. She jerked at the sudden icy slap. She wanted to scream, she wanted to hurl the glass and its frothy peach contents at her cousin's smug face. He must love this, she fumed, eyeing Denton's gleeful smirk. He loves it when I'm....

  Rejected, whispered a little voice within. Min grabbed the drink and gulped a mouthful, welcomed the icy burn of the inevitable ice cream headache. Anything to cover the painful sting.

  "I'm out of here." Min slapped her drink down on the table and slid out of the booth. She kept her face turned away from her gloating cousin and stalked around the back of the stage to the tiny kitchen. It was deserted at this time of night--Denton's cooking skills were limited to opening bags of peanuts and pretzels--so there was nobody around to see her grab a little foil packet from the fridge and swing the pantry back to
reveal the small space hidden behind it.

  Min's den, a space between the back wall of the club and the adjoining vintage store, was about the size of a walk-in closet. Min figured it was the legacy of a former smuggler, maybe even one of the bootleggers who supplied the bubbly that enticed Min so during her first forays Earthside during the Roaring Twenties. Now it was filled with a small set of shelves, a bar for clothes, and a scented nest of feather pillows covered with designer silk scarves in jewel tones. Min slid out of her clothes, hung them neatly on the bar, opened the foil packet while she still had fingers, and shifted to her natural form.

  She tore into the pink flesh of the salmon with a ferocity born of frustrated hunger.

  TWO

  Min's two-inch peep-toe pumps clacked across the tiles, their purposeful rhythm lost amid the chorus of shoppers. It was nearly nine o'clock, and Min was right on schedule for her evening buffet. Odyssey never heated up before eleven, and she had plenty of time to change and bait the trap--her lovely self.

  Of course, she was always up for a little nibble before she chose a main course. Min paused to admire herself in the mirrored side of a column. Wine red pencil skirt, sheer white blouse with mother-of-pearl buttons, real silk stockings with a discreet skin-tone seam up the back. Patent leather pumps in a shade of garnet only slightly lighter than the skirt. And of course, pearls, three tiered ropes to dress up the plain outfit, the medium-length strand slithering above the neckline, the longest falling to a knot that swayed against her navel with every movement.

  Min smoothed her skirt over her hips with short fingernails lacquered in Black Rose. She admired the effect of white skin, ruby nails...it reminded her of petals fallen upon a sudden snow, or maybe drops of blood.

  Min loved the beat of the city, loved the crowds that filled the malls even late on a Saturday evening. Loved the ever-changing buffet of men who fed her the energy a shifter needed to maintain her shape Earthside. Rich men, who bought her little presents like the gift cards that paid for her little shopping trip today. Min slid her fingers into the silver shopping bag looped around her right arm, caressed the crystal bottle with appreciative fingertips.