Hot, Hard & Howling

by Mari Freeman

  “How did you know?” Nell couldn’t remember anyone ever deciphering her Demon’s form without knowledge of her parentage or seeing her change.

  “I see what others overlook.” She held out her hand. Her palm was scarred with a thousand small cuts. “Place your left hand in mine.”

  Nell set the brush down and rested the pack between her feet. She looked at the old woman, who had relit her cigar and was now smiling knowingly at Nell. The cat had made his way onto the tabletop. His leg was hiked high and he was happily cleaning his balls without a care.

  The old woman laughed as Nell placed her hand in Barri’s. With the gentleness of a mother, she turned Nell’s hand and traced the brand. It was no longer sore but she felt a little sting as Barri touched it.

  Several moths gathered under the umbrella, their shadows flitting in the lights. “You’re back,” she said to the insects as one landed on her arm.

  “The box is reacting to your magic, calling them, conjuring them.” Barri tapped the brand. “You’ll need them again if you want to open it.”

  “Are they even real?” Nell asked.

  “They are as real as your power. As mine.” Barri uttered something Nell didn’t understand but her aunt got up and went behind a huge oleander bush. She returned quickly with an ornately carved, black-and-tan carafe and set it on the table.

  “First,” Barri said, placing her other hand on top of Nell’s. “I will cleanse you of the evil in that puzzle box and see if I can quiet its call to the same. It wants companionship. Blood magic that strong calls to those who would use it. You are like a beacon in the night for the damned.” She tilted her head as if to listen to the night itself. “New Orleans is not the city you want to be roaming about, calling out to evil. Place the box on the table, under our joined hands.” Nell bent to retrieve the box from the pack. “But do not foul my skin with it, please.”

  Nell now wished she hadn’t touched it either. She didn’t like the thought of being fouled. Her sisters and Mi-ma were also fouled. She slid it beneath their clasped hands.

  “Lavender oil, vodka and holy water.” She carefully reached for the carafe with no fumbling. She dribbled the concoction over their hands and onto the box. “Shroud me in goodness and spiritual light. Dampen the darkness with power and might. Spirits which cling, you’re not wanted inside.”

  Nell watched the box begin to vibrate and hum. It was brief. Then Nell felt it—a major lessoning of that sick, dark feeling she’d been fighting all night.

  “You should be safe from the bloodsuckers for a while.” She stuck her thumb and index finger into a pouch that hung around her neck. “Dead Sea salt. To protect you.” She sprinkled the pinch over Nell’s hand.

  “Thank you,” Nell said.

  “It will not stop the one who seeks it.”

  Again Nell was impressed. “You know his name?”

  Barri tried to pull away. “Names hold power. You know that.”

  Nell understood her concern. She let go of the woman’s frail hand. “You don’t want to conjure him here?”

  Barri smiled. The old woman cackled from behind them. “No, Nell Ambercroft. His is not the kind of energy I wish to visit my house. Yours, though…your energy is welcome.”

  “I see.” Evidently her name wasn’t high on the scary scale when it came to power. “My hair…”

  The old woman had a tiny pair of scissors at the ready. Nell had no idea where she’d kept them, but it didn’t matter. She handed them to Barri. “Hold a lock from behind your left ear.”

  Nell followed her instructions and grasped a small bit of hair near the base of her head. Barri placed her hand on Nell’s arm and used it to guide her to the end of Nell’s fingers, stopping where Nell held the hair. With her other hand, she reached forward and snipped the lock, using Nell’s fingers as an indicator of where to cut.

  “Golden Dragon,” Barri said, her hand still resting on Nell’s arm, “can heal turmoil of the mind. In this city, it is much needed these days.”

  Even blind, Barri saw more than most. “Take more.” Nell grabbed another section of hair. She had tons of it. If it would help someone else, she was happy to donate.

  Barri cut again then patted Nell’s arm. Then she spoke to the old woman. Nell was sure it was English but the Cajun dialect was far too fast and heavy for her to make out.

  “Follow Auntie. My cousin has an empty apartment he is trying to rent. Stay there during the daylight hours. Rest. Eat. At dusk, take a cab out of the city to the bayou, the Airboat Adventures dock. Ask for Cap’n Allen. He’ll be waiting. He’ll know where your wolf is.”

  “Thank you. Again.” The old woman was heading for the street before Nell could gather her pack. Nell looked Barri in the eyes and nodded again in thanks, sure she felt it even if she couldn’t see it. She then rushed to catch up with the barefoot old woman and followed her back into the hot streets of the French Quarter.

  Hot, Hard & Howling

  Chapter Ten

  The smell of diesel fuel and swamp rot filled the air as she stepped from the cab. Nell looked out over the sunset. Bright orange and pink highlighted the dull aluminum of the few boats tied to the long dock. There was a large metal building up the driveway, open bay doors revealing the skeletons of several more boats and the rusted-out remains of a Mustang. The ride had taken forty-five minutes and a hundred-dollar bill. Once the cab left, Nell was alone in the middle of nowhere.

  Nell crossed the gravel parking lot and lightly tapped on the door of the tour boat office.

  “They’s closed for the night, miss.” The voice didn’t exactly startle her, but she was sure no one had been down by the airboats when she got out of the cab. Now a large, white-haired man was behind her.

  “Captain Allen?” Nell took a step toward the big man. He titled his head in question. “Barri said you might help me.”

  “Madame Barri said that, did she?” He scratched the side of his head with dirty fingernails then dug in the deep pocket of his camouflage pants. “I ain’t got a call from her in months.”

  He flipped open the cell phone that looked way too small in his thick fingers. “Oops. Reckon I did.” He pushed a couple buttons and listened. He shook his head as he closed the phone.

  Nell waited to hear if that message pertained to her or not. She stood still and attempted not to show how anxious she was over this entire situation.

  Without commentary, he headed toward the dock. “You want to go out there at night, I’ll take ya’s.” He stopped suddenly and turned back to Nell. Even several feet away she was closer to him than she would have liked. He was tall and thick and smelled of dead fish. “I ain’t going all the way in though. I’ll take you to Naked Creek.” He sniffed the air.

  Nell decided it was time to speak. “I have no idea what that means. I have a missing friend.”

  “I know what you lost, miss. If he’s where I think he is, you may not want him back. Lots of folks goes out there and they never gets back.” He continued toward the airboat at the end of the dock. “I knows that’s mostly hearsay and Voodoo mumbo shit, but I’ve lived in these swamps all my life and found no cause to test out them rumors myself.” He climbed onboard and held out a meaty hand to assist Nell off the dock and onto the rocking boat deck. “Got to be an old codger that way. And I aim to make it to old fuck someday.”

  He winked. Nell nodded her head. “I’d like that myself.”

  “You got any weapons in that bag, miss?”

  Nell shook her head.

  “Might oughta have one.” The boat was little more than an aluminum platform with shallow sides. He opened a storage area in the front of the boat and Nell made note there were lifejackets in case she needed one. He moved some stuff she couldn’t name the purpose of to one side and came up with a large machete in a leather case. “This’ll take the head off most anything. From them rumors and what Madame Barri said, you’ll likely need to do just that, miss. Whatever you find out there, take its head off, ya hear?” He
handed her a large set of yellow earmuffs. “It’s gonna get loud when that fan gets going.”

  Nell looked at the giant fan mounted on the back of the boat. The captain’s chair was mounted right in front of it. There was a seat to each side of his and a bench in front of that, which would hold three more passengers. “Not sneaking up then?”

  He pointed to one of the seats next to his and then gave her a big, toothy smile. “Don’t you’s worry, miss. Once we get out there, I’ll guide us in nice and quiet like.” He sat in his chair. “I can sneak up on a mating gator and steal his girl before he knowed it.”

  He flipped the switch on the ignition and the fan roared to life. “You might oughta sit now, miss.” Nell noticed there were no seat belts.

  The sun was tucking behind the cypress trees as they hit open water that Nell suspected was a lake. He pointed to his earmuffs and indicated she do the same. When he pushed a large lever forward, the fans went full blast and the airboat took off as if flying over the calm, black water. It was as exhilarating as it was frightening.

  For several minutes it seemed they headed straight to the middle of a very large lake. The sun had completely set, leaving only the smallest trace of a burnt-orange glow across the sky. Nell had no sense of scale to judge the distance they had traveled before he veered off to the left.

  In the dark, he careened through the canals and narrow tributaries that made up the swamps. Nell gripped the edge of her chair. Even with her good night vision, she could barely make out the contrast of dark water against the even darker vegetation along the banks. Captain Allen knew where he was going. He switched the direction of the boat on a dime and flung them, sailing sideways just as much as forward, into what looked like a cove.

  He yanked off his ear protection. Nell removed her own as he shut off the engines and hopped to the floor of the boat. They drifted to a stop.

  “Yeeee woooo, Miss Blonde!” he barked into the night sky. “That there was a purty night ride.”

  Nell couldn’t help enjoying the adrenaline rush that accompanied the scare. “That it was, Captain.” She shook her head. She’d thought she’d been on adventures during her travels. But she’d been living a tourist’s life. Spas and a gondola ride in Venice were an outright snore compared to this. Trent would have loved it.

  She looked around the cove. She had business to attend to. She needed to get her head back on the task at hand. “So um…what now?”

  “Now…” He started rowing toward some pipes sticking up out of the water in the middle of the cove. A small johnboat was tied to what looked to be some sort of piping for an oilrig. “You, miss, is gonna take your own night ride.”

  “Great,” Nell muttered, noticing how close to the gator-infested waters that tiny boat would leave her.

  He pulled the airboat alongside the smaller boat and tossed her pack in. Then he set the machete on top of it. He handed her a flashlight. “Only use it when you have to. No telling what you’ll attract out there in the dark.”

  Nell nodded, not really wanting to ask. She imagined all kinds of huge flying bugs landing in her hair, and shivered. The moths would be welcome at this moment.

  “Step on in and get settled in the middle.”

  “You’re not going to try to talk me out of heading out there?”

  “If’n you’ve been to Madame Barri already and she’s sending you out here, I reckon you’re in as good a spot as any to go. She sees. I ain’t abouts to question her intentions.” He fished around in the storage bin again and handed Nell a big bag of marshmallows.

  She raised her brows. “What are the thsoe for?”

  “The gators love ’em. If you get in a spot where you’re cornered, toss ’em. In the water or out.”

  She put them on the floor of the boat by her feet. “Marshmallows?”

  He shrugged. “We been using ’em for years to bring gators to the tour boats.” He leaned in closer, resting his big hands on his knees. “You head to your right out the opening of this here cove. Stay close to the middle of the big channel. Use what little current is there. Pass three backwaters and head inta the fourth.”

  “Backwaters?” Nell asked as she gripped the oar and looked at the trees behind the captain. Spanish moss hung low off the branches over the water. Snakes probably liked this place a lot.

  “Inlets. Tributaries.” Nell nodded her understanding and he continued. “It’ll be on the left. It gets real narrow like in there. The moss’ll be hanging low and it’ll look like you can’t make it out the back, but you can. Follow it round to the second one on the right.”

  Nell repeated the combination. “Go right, four then left. Two then right?”

  “That’s it. After that, I know nothing. I hears there is several shotgun shacks where they make shine. Everything else I hears, I ain’t sharing with you.”

  Nell took a deep breath as he pushed her off, shoving the johnboat toward the opening to the cove. She lifted the oar and started to row.

  “I’ll be here ’til morning.” His loud voice echoed off the black water. “You get your friend and get his ass back here, I’ll get you out.”

  Nell looked back over her shoulder, taking care not to rock the little boat. “You’re waiting?”

  “I was gonna be fishing for the night anyways. Here’s as good as any. You ain’t back by morning, I’m gonna consider you a ghost.” He shook his head.

  As she rounded the corner of the main canal and lost sight of Captain Allen, she was somewhat comforted by the knowledge the old codger was waiting.

  The quiet was interrupted with the wild call of a bird she suspected was a night heron. The sounds of her oar hitting the water seemed to echo loudly along the channel. She heard a splash, and then another. She closed her eyes and tried to think of something other than twenty-foot alligators. It was hard.

  She recalled the other morning with Trent, how he’d been tender and loving. If she managed to get him out of this situation, she just might kill the stubborn bastard.

  * * * * *

  Flames. Blood. Graves. Trent’s thoughts were scattered. His head hurt. He couldn’t stretch his body, couldn’t open his eyes to make the crazy dreams go away. He heard a thumping, rhythmic and steady hammering. It hurt his ears. Tired. So tired.

  He took several shallow breaths. He must be sick. Really sick. He tried to concentrate. When that hurt his head too much, he tried to relax. Tried to stop fighting the numb feeling stealing over his mind. When that was gone, he’d ask Nell what they’d eaten on the plane.

  Nell.

  A flash of memory seared his brain. Nell, shifted as much as her Halfling body could shift, charging a Vampire. Pain. Black. Smoke.

  She can’t protect herself, he shouted in his mind. He wanted to move. Needed to find her. Why was he so weak? His eyes wouldn’t open.

  A voice spoke on the edge of his understanding, but it was muffled, reverberating in his head. Trent tried to take a deep breath, his chest burning with the effort.

  His wrists started to sting—they were tied. So were his legs.

  “…no use.” Someone was talking to him. Trent tried to open his eyes again. This time they cracked a bit, fuzzy images, bright yellow light.

  “Struggling’s only going to hurt you worse, stupid dog.”

  That he understood. Male voice. Not friendly.

  He closed his eyes again and tried to take in another deep breath. The thumping was a blasting echo of his own heartbeat and it was speeding up. Trent tried to center his energy. His wolf wanted to leap, to tear, but until he assessed the situation, that wasn’t a viable option.

  “That’s it. Calm yourself. Don’t want you to blow a gasket.” The voice was annoyingly sharp.

  The smell of burnt meat overwhelmed Trent’s senses. His wolf forced open his eyes. Things were a bit clearer. A skinny arm held a piece of meat right in front of Trent’s face. Cat. Trent turned away from it.

  “Aw. And I hunted that thing down just for you. Don’t be so ungrateful.�
�� Trent’s vision refocused on the hollow face of the man crouched beside him. The bastard looked as if he’d been beaten more than once in his life. He had a scar from the side of his nose to the corner of his mouth. Another one over his right eye, about two inches long. He was missing a few teeth and his nose had been broken at least a couple of times.

  He shoved the meat toward Trent’s closed mouth. Trent turned his head away again.

  “All right. So much for me trying to be hospitable and all. Have it your way. Just thought you might like a last meal.”

  Again Trent tried to stretch but with his hands tied behind his back and around some sort of post, which seemed to be in the middle of a small room, his movements were vastly limited. His head was pounding more than ever.

  “Don’t suppose you have any aspirin?” Trent figured this was Crey.

  The Sorcerer laughed out loud. “Look around you, Prime. We got nothing but fire,” he patted the handgun tucked in this belt, “and fire power. Not shit for supplies out here. I really gotta talk to my business associates. You’d think they’d have some food or something for me, with what I paid.” He spit on the dirty wood plank floor.

  Trent glanced around the room as his senses slowly returned and the pounding in his head subsided to a manageable rumble. It was a shack. Wood plank walls surrounded him. Four straight-back pine chairs and a lopsided table stood in one corner. The other side of the room had a series of unlevel shelves. The top three were empty. The bottom one held a stack of dust-covered magazines. There was a large jug next to the door, which was constructed of three boards fastened together with two smaller perpendicular slats.

  The sounds of the night entered through the cracks between the boards of the walls. He heard the call of a heron and frogs singing happily from the shore, ready to plunge into the water at the first sign of a predator. Trent had a good idea where they were. Not good at all.

  He stretched his head to the side to relieve some cramping. How long had he been here? “Not exactly the Four Seasons is it?”