A Twisted Ladder

by Rhodi Hawk

The Akita snapped. Jasmine screamed and leapt to her feet, tail now erect and hackles raised. She peeled back her lips at the two larger dogs. The Airedale’s teeth gnashed forward. Jasmine scooted backward.

  Zenon watched, relishing how the little female bared her teeth while the larger males swayed at her flanks.

  She’ll put up a fight, yeah.

  Jasmine backed up, sidling along the furniture. Cornered now between the couch and the wall.

  Steady boys. Close the gap.

  The larger dogs advanced with tails bristling.

  Get her!

  THE CLOAKROOM STRETCHED BACK far enough so a person might move freely among the hangers. A split door gaped wide at the top while barring entry at the bottom, with a valet bell resting on its ledge. No attendant.

  The little girl was watching Madeleine, the only visible features being her clumped dirty blond hair draped over a single eye. The rest of her remained hidden between a hanging white sequined cape and a flowing golden chiffon wrap. Smudges were visible on the cape where it had come into contact with her.

  Madeleine offered a smile. “Hello there.”

  The little girl said nothing. She pressed herself further back into the crush of fabric.

  Madeleine leaned over the ledge. “It’s all right. I’m not going to hurt you.”

  She looked down and saw the child’s bare feet just below the hanging garments. Her ankle was streaked with ashen smears, and the ragged tips of her toenails bore black half-moons as if she’d neither washed nor worn shoes in ages.

  “My name is Madeleine. Can you come out where I can see you, please?”

  A hesitation, and then the child began to move. The cape folded in as she pressed forward out of the rack. Her face emerged, and Madeleine caught her breath. Not because the face was filthy; she’d expected that. It was the expression on that face—not that of a timid, shrinking little girl at all. This child wore no look of fear. She was smiling. In fact, she was grimacing.

  “That’s better,” Madeleine said, though a bit unnerved. “You live with Miss Chloe, don’t you? Chloe LeBlanc?”

  The child did not move. She continued to show her teeth in that strange, bellicose grin.

  Madeleine tried another tack. “Chloe LeBlanc, elle est ta grand-mère?”

  Or maybe this girl’s arrière grand-mère. The child was so young and Chloe so old, if the two were related there would have to be several “arrière’s” before the “grand-mère.”

  But nothing. The child just grimaced and stared through brown, horse-lashed eyes.

  “What’s your name, honey?”

  “They say I’m Severin,” she whispered.

  The voice sounded normal, angelic even. As if dusted in gold from the fabric that draped over her.

  “Ah, Severin.” Madeleine reached out a hand. “You should probably come out of there, sweetie.”

  The child’s eyes lit, and she moved forward, leaning out of the rack with the chiffon sliding over her. She pressed her tiny fingers into Madeleine’s hand. But she did not step out. She continued to lean forward. Her mouth opened, and her eyes closed. And Madeleine realized she was about to bite her.

  She withdrew her hand. “No biting!”

  Severin blinked. Her grimace widened between spills of grimy hair.

  A rusting voice came from behind. “Is it the child?”

  Madeleine whirled around. Chloe sat in her wheelchair, Oran hovering at her shoulder.

  “Yes,” Madeleine said, and was startled to find her breath coming in sluggish exhales.

  She looked over her shoulder and back toward the coat closet, but the little girl had withdrawn at the sound of Chloe’s voice. “Severin’s hiding in there.”

  Chloe sat very still in her wheelchair. “Yes.”

  She cast a look toward Oran, who moved to the closet, opening the lower section of door. Madeleine half-expected to see Severin dart out when he did so. But no. He pulled at the hanging garments, though he kept his eyes on Madeleine.

  “You know, Chloe,” Madeleine said, “Severin looks like she needs to see a doctor.”

  Chloe lifted a whiskered chin toward the closet. “A difficult one to handle.”

  Madeleine nodded. “Is she, is she a relation of yours?”

  The girl’s skin was stark pale with no hint of African in her blood, but that could be explained in any number of ways.

  But Chloe said, “Never you mind about that.”

  “But I do mind, Chloe. I’m concerned for her welfare.”

  “You shall have a chance to talk to her more, Madeleine, if you’re so concerned.”

  “When?”

  “Not now. In a while.”

  “Do I have your word?”

  Chloe looked annoyed. “Yes, you will talk to her!”

  The windows flashed twice; headlights in the drive below. Sam was signaling from the truck with a host of vehicles in the valet’s queue. Madeleine looked toward the cloakroom where Oran nodded at her.

  “Well, good night,” Madeleine said.

  THEY LUNGED. JASMINE GAVE a single shriek and then fell silent.

  The two male dogs were barking, frenzied, snarling and scraping at the corner where the couch met the wall.

  Zenon strained to see through the darkness. Hard to tell if there was any blood. He wasn’t sure whether they had her.

  A scrolling beam of light panned the neighbors’ houses. Zenon looked up. He saw a truck turning the corner onto the block. Madeleine.

  He turned back to the window, beyond which the male dogs still drove at the couch in a fury. A flash of white caught Zenon’s eye. Jasmine skulked out from the back end of the couch. Sneaking in a rush toward the back of the living room, low on her haunches, while on the opposite end, the larger dogs continued to rail at the space between the couch and the wall. She appeared to be wholly untouched.

  Zenon had to laugh.

  He shot a glance back toward the end of the block and knew he had but a handful of seconds before the headlights would catch him. He shook his head, regarded the snarling dogs again, and released. The barking stopped.

  He ducked back into the shadows.

  It’s your damned good luck, dog.

  He moved quickly, slipping back into his car as the headlights drew nearer. He closed the door to the Duster with barely a sound.

  “What’s with the dogs?” Josh asked from within the darkness.

  Zenon jumped in his seat. “Shit man, you scared me!”

  “Boo!” Josh laughed. “Who we lookin at over there, anyways?”

  Zenon shook his head. “Man, what are you doing here?”

  “Well hell, I ain’t seen you in a while.”

  Zenon lit a cigarette and exhaled smoke into the car. He kept an eye on the house where Samantha and Madeleine stood in the doorway. As he watched, Madeleine covered her mouth, and even through the darkness Zenon could see the look of shock on Sam’s face.

  “What’s wrong,” he said to the figures. “Dogs been doing some housekeeping while you were gone?”

  They both had a pleasant laugh.

  Josh put a stick to his mouth and chewed. “You practicing on’m?”

  “Yeah. Didn’t get to finish what I started though.”

  A black car lumbered by. As it passed, they caught a glimpse of Chloe LeBlanc through the back passenger window.

  “Shit,” Josh said. “It’s her.”

  “Miss Chloe? Was she looking at us?”

  Josh twitched. “What do you think? She didn’t come here by coincidence.”

  “We better watch it. That woman can see straight into our heads.”

  “No she can’t. She might be able to do the mind thing a little, but she still has to rely on others to do her spying. Anyway you’re getting better than her.”

  Zenon suspected this already, and he liked the way it tasted. “The student surpasses the master.”

  “Don’t get too cocky. Just remember she’s the one who evolved us. And she’s the one who can tip
the balance in our favor.”

  “I’d say we’re doing our fair share.”

  “Shit, brother, we’re just soldiers. She’s the general.”

  “Man, it’s unnerving,” Zenon said.

  The Akita broke from the house and tore across the street like a racehorse, galloping in the opposite direction of the Duster. Samantha followed after him, evening gown flying.

  Zenon smiled.

  The Akita stopped abruptly near a cluster of crepe myrtle. He stared down the street, black jowls shining blue under the street lamp. He parted those jowls and gave a single, reverberating woof. A warning. It sounded like the old boy was indignant. Didn’t like being on the string. And then, in a gesture akin to giving the finger, the Akita raised his rear leg and peed on the shrubs.

  Josh and Zenon guffawed.

  “What’s with all the dogs, anyway?” Josh said.

  “Two of’m are Samantha’s and the little one’s Madeleine’s.”

  “Oh I get it now.” Josh frowned. “Madeleine again. What business you got with her?”

  “Just checkin in on an old friend.”

  “Uh, checkin in is when you pick up the phone and say ‘How’s things?’ What you’re doing, that’s called stalking.”

  “Oh yeah? Well she just happened to show up at the gala tonight. I tried the trick on her and I think I had her there for a minute.”

  “Tried how?”

  “You know. Move this way or that way.”

  Josh looked at him for a long moment. “Man, you better play it straight. And I promise you, it won’t be cool if you wind up crossing the old woman.”

  “To hell with her. Anyway she wants me to get with Madeleine.”

  “Well that dudn’t mean kill her little ole dog!”

  “Wudn’t gonna kill it. And I don’t sit around waiting for old Chloe’s blessing on everything I do. ‘Kushtrimi del për të ligshtin, pse trimi kujtohet vet.’ ”

  Josh sighed. “The hell is that, Albanian?”

  “Matter of fact it is. Means the tolling bell is for the weak, the strong initiates on his own. The thing with Madeleine is complicated. She’s complicated. She don’t even know her own head.”

  Josh snorted.

  Zenon took a long pull on his cigarette and watched the sky. No lightning yet, but a hint of something was brewing up there.

  He exhaled in a tempered stream. “She’s a sensual woman, Madeleine. But she won’t cool her brain. I haven’t figured out what I’m going to do about her yet. On the one hand, there’s the whole thing with Miss Chloe. But then me and Madeleine got a history, and she’s running out of people. Some guidance is what she needs.”

  Josh huffed with a wave of his chewed-up stick. “Oh is that right? Listen, we’ve been over this. You need to cool it, bro. You starting to get a little weird on me.”

  “I’m weird?” Zenon laughed with a curl to his lip. “That’s pretty bad, comin from you. And speaking of which, please tell me you didn’t get that stick from somewhere here on the streets. I don’t even want to know what variety of bacterial spores are on that thing.”

  “Shut up.”

  “Just plain nasty.”

  Josh said, “Man, you oughtta get a dog. Do you some good.”

  “What for?”

  “I don’t know. You could take it huntin. Hell, if you ever need to take down a set of blinds or somethin, seems like they’d come in real handy.”

  Zenon grinned. Lightning fluttered across the sky.

  “Everything go all right with that last one?” Josh said.

  “Just fine. She’s out in the Gulf by Bayou Black.” Zenon turned the key and the car wheezed to life. He fiddled with the shortwave. Enough with the Albanian station—time to try something new. He tuned the dial until he came across a language he didn’t recognize at all.

  Josh leaned back and tugged on his porkpie hat, settling the stick between his teeth.

  eleven

  NEW ORLEANS, 2009

  MADELEINE RETURNED TO HER home on Esplanade just after 11 P.M. Her ballroom gown and elegant hairstyle made her feel as though, for once, she actually belonged in the Creole Victorian mansion with its double galleries. She usually felt dwarfed by the sixteen-foot windows with their carved wood trim. Tonight she wore black and white, just like her bloodline, and she imagined she really should feel as though she fit.

  Until a few years ago, she didn’t even know this house existed; and then one day Daddy Blank handed his son and daughter an envelope containing the keys and the deed. For a while, Madeleine had insisted he stay there with her, but he came and went with the carelessness of a dragonfly. And Marc, from the very beginning, had refused to leave the cottage on Bayou Black.

  Tonight, Madeleine at least had the appearance of belonging, but she still wondered if she would ever feel truly entitled to this house.

  Jasmine—always entitled—trotted ahead. Madeleine winced at the memory of poor Sam’s place, which looked like a life-sized game of pick-up sticks after the dogs had had their way with it. She and Sam had cleaned up as best they could and would face the rest tomorrow. Of all the times those dogs had been left alone to entertain each other, they had never gotten into such trouble. And Jasmine had been trembling when Maddy clipped her leash. Strange.

  She fixed a steaming cup of tea and carried it up the curved staircase, Whitney’s rose in hand. She set the tea down on her vanity, breathing in the rose’s scent.

  Men’s voices rippled behind her.

  She whirled, but found no one there. The bedroom lay empty. She cocked her head and listened, holding her breath, standing absolutely still. Had she imagined it? And then, faintly—it almost seemed like a thought—she heard humming.

  She flung open the French doors to the balcony, and doo-wop harmonies soared up to her from the street.

  Oh little bitty pretty one

  Come on and talk to me.

  Her father stood in the flickering glow of gaslight, still clad in his tux with his hand on another man’s shoulder, their fingers snapping in time to the vocals. The song looped from a hum to the same harmonies in an Ohhh!, and then finally to lyrics and back again. Behind them, leaning against a silver Lexus hybrid with hand tapping along, stood Ethan Manderleigh.

  Daddy opened his arms to his daughter above as he swayed and sang.

  I’ll tell you a story

  Happened long time ago

  A-little bitty pretty one

  I’ve been watching you grow.

  Ethan wasn’t singing but he was keeping time. The twosome sang it through and ended with an abrupt silence that held for a heartbeat, and then all three burst into laughter. Madeleine leaned forward and tossed Whitney’s rose over the balcony. Daddy caught it but recognized it as having come from Whitney and he pinched it upside-down like he was holding a dead mouse. The other singer took it instead, and the two clapped their arms around each other’s shoulders, hooting in triumph.

  Madeleine flowed down the interior stairs with Jasmine at her heels. She crossed the hall and threw open the front door. The other singer must have been Ethan’s chauffeur because he was getting behind the wheel of the hybrid while Daddy and Ethan strolled into the foyer.

  “Hiya kitten,” Daddy said as he kissed her. “Guess I’m staying here tonight.”

  “Sounds good. Want some tea?”

  “Yeah, in a minute. Lemme change out of this monkey suit.” He headed for the stairs.

  Madeleine looked at Ethan. “How about you? Tea?”

  “Naw, just wanted to see that Daddy Blank made it home safe. Streets are crawling with Whitneys, you know.”

  “Mm. Indeed.”

  “And,” Ethan added, “I wanted to ask you to have dinner with me.”

  “Dinner?” She smiled.

  “Yeah, dinner. It’s a manner of providing food-energy to the human body. Only it’s done all leisurely and social-like.”

  He leaned against the door. His eyes held an easiness that swept her with warmth. It made h
er want to reach up and stroke the square line of his jaw.

  “Tomorrow night?” Ethan asked.

  “Hmm . . .” But she thought of her father and how she would be loath to let him out of her sight until she was certain he’d been stabilized on his medications.

  Ethan seemed to sense her turmoil and stepped toward her. “I know you like good food because I’ve had your couche-couche and boudin. So this is a little intimidating for me. Hmm. I’ll have to take you to the best place in town.”

  She arched a brow at him.

  He said, “I know. Monkey Hill.”

  Madeleine laughed. “Monkey Hill? At Audubon Zoo?”

  “Sure. You’re a psychologist, so what better way to spend an evening than studying primates in their natural habitat?”

  “I didn’t realize New Orleans was a natural habitat for monkeys.”

  “All right, unnatural habitat. You know why they built Monkey Hill in the 1930s, don’t you?”

  Madeleine considered this. “So that the people of New Orleans could see what a monkey looks like?”

  “Wrong. So that the people of New Orleans could see what a hill looks like.”

  She had to laugh.

  He grinned at her. “Well, maybe we’ll just start at Monkey Hill, then I’ll take you somewhere with better food. Pick you up at seven?”

  She bit her lip. She’d sworn to herself that she wouldn’t refuse him a third time. “OK, but not tomorrow night. Why don’t you call me later in the week?”

  He narrowed his eyes. “Fair enough. I’ll call you Tuesday.”

  She’d meant later in the week than that, but she relented. “That’ll be fine.”

  “Hmm. ‘Fine,’ she says. Lord have mercy, woman. You’re tricky.”

  She laughed. “I don’t mean to be tricky. I am very much looking forward to seeing Monkey Hill with you. And your, um, driver.”

  He looked out the window, then cocked his brow at her. “Not a chance. I only hired him for the night ’cause I knew I’d be drinkin.”

  He took her hands in his and placed a chaste kiss on her cheek, sweet and cool. And then he released her and pivoted toward the door and grasped the handle.

  But he paused there, back to her, shoulders broad and dark in the dim light of the foyer.