by Leo King
Fine. I can handle them.
She grabbed the knife embedded in her shoulder. The intense desire she felt to kill her opponent made her animosity toward Violet seem like child’s play.
Blind Moses started to get up, leveling her rifle at Sam.
Sam smirked. It’s on now, you bitch. With a hard yank, she pulled out the knife. Fresh blood poured from the wound. The moment she saw it, she willed herself back into the state where time slowed down. Once again, every nerve in her body tingled, the world slowed to a crawl, and every sense became acute. She could see, hear, and feel every detail around her.
Sam picked up the pistol. She already had it leveled at Blind Moses while her opponent was still aiming the rifle.
“Bang,” she said, firing off two shots.
Blind Moses’s eyes widened for a moment. She swiftly threw herself to the side in a spin. The bullets whizzed past her. As soon as she landed, she ran out to the open part of the wharf. Sam gave chase.
Once out in the open, Sam saw that an ambulance had arrived and that EMTs were on Dixie. She also saw that dozens of police cars had arrived, and that the uniformed officers were setting up a perimeter around the area where they were.
As soon as Ouellette saw them, he ordered the officers to back away. He stared intently at Sam.
She gritted her teeth, momentarily locking eyes with him. He’ll let us fight it out and kill each other, and then he’ll arrest whoever survives.
Anger flared up inside her, although she didn’t know why she hated him so much.
Rodger and Richie were running toward the fight, but they moved so slowly, they might as well have been crawling.
Sam focused on her opponent again just as Blind Moses aimed at her and fired off three shots.
She jumped into the air, flipping. She heard the bullets fly underneath her. She then drove both feet into Blind Moses’s face, letting loose with a ferocious yell.
Blind Moses let out a yelp of pain and fell back, sliding along with Sam almost standing on her face. The two traveled to the edge of the pier.
Sam hopped back and aimed her gun. Again, a surge of hatred for Blind Moses bubbled up to the surface. Aiming at her opponent’s head, she pulled the trigger.
However, Blind Moses was already attacking. She kicked up, knocking the pistol out of Sam’s hand. The bullet hit the metal cord holding the crane’s payload. It started to fray. The pistol flew upward and landed on the crane’s scaffolding. Blind Moses flipped up to her feet.
Sam brandished her knife and growled. “You’ll pay for that.”
Blind Moses shrugged, and the two charged at each other, Sam stabbing.
Blind Moses parried again with the butt of her rifle, knocking the knife way up and into the Mississippi River.
This time, however, Sam was ready. “My turn!” Doing a back flip, she kicked the rifle out of Blind Moses’s hands. It also flew up into the crane’s scaffolding.
Blind Moses jerked her head toward the rifle as it flew away. She then looked back at Sam.
Sam shrugged.
Blind Moses shook her head and pointed up.
Sam looked up. The cord holding the crane’s payload, a large bundle of metal poles, had broken. They were falling down upon both of them.
Her shoulders dropped. You gotta be kidding me…
Both of them jumped back as the metal poles landed with a deafening crash.
One of the shorter poles bounced toward Sam, who caught it, spun it around, and held it at the ready. Grinning at Blind Moses, she again motioned for her to come. “Just bring it.”
Instead, Blind Moses grabbed a pole about her height and sprinted toward the crane. She used it to vault up and land on the lattice. With a series of jumps, pole still in hand, she started to ascend the scaffolding toward where the guns lay.
Rushing forward, Sam jumped to the side and rolled as the rest of the metal poles crashed to the ground. She was vaguely aware of Richie and Rodger hurtling out of the way but was too focused on the fight to notice anything else.
Reaching the base of the crane, she noticed that its sides were studded with large rivets, about the size of the nubs on rock-climbing walls. Without losing any momentum, she jumped and stepped on the first rivet. Pushing up, she ran up the side of the crane, using the rivets as steps.
The two arrived at the scaffolding at the same time.
“Blind Moses, face me!” Sam cried out.
Blind Moses turned and saw that Sam was armed. She slammed her pole down on her knee, breaking it in half. She then brandished the two weapons and approached.
Sam chortled. Neat trick. I’ll have to try that with her face.
Rushing forward, they entered into a flurry of blows, each trying to overpower the other. Sam kept spinning her pole around to keep Blind Moses at a distance, while Blind Moses used her twin weapons to try to overpower Sam. As they clashed, their weapons hit so hard and fast that sparks flew.
Sam grinned as she fought. Despite it being a duel to the death, she had never felt more alive.
She swung downward, but Blind Moses caught the pole with both of hers. Sam pulled back before she could be disarmed, realizing that they were both too evenly matched. For a moment, she wondered if Blind Moses had something similar to Sam of Spades within her. It was like they were two sides of the same coin.
Sam knew she would never beat her with skill. She needed to psyche her out.
Suddenly, the solution came to her. Three bullets. Blind Moses always fired in sets of three. Sam could use that against her.
As the two of them entered yet another flurry of melee attacks, Sam maneuvered so that the pistol was behind her and the rifle was behind Blind Moses. It was time to feint.
With a loud shout, Sam swung her pole into a powerful downward strike again. Blind Moses effortlessly captured her weapon, and this time, Sam let the assassin disarm her. With a series of back handsprings, she landed next to the pistol. Blind Moses took the bait and flipped back to the rifle.
Quickly, she counted the bullets in the clip. Four bullets. This fight was hers.
Standing, she held the pistol out and faced Blind Moses, who had leveled her rifle and was preparing to fire. They were standing on opposite edges of the scaffolding. The moment of truth would arrive within seconds. I can do this. I can definitely do this. I am unstoppable.
Finally, Blind Moses fired: one, two, three shots.
Sam focused, watching the bullets traveling toward her chest. Time seemed to slow down even more, and she felt her hand being completely steadied. She felt Sam of Spades focusing all of her power into her, willingly lending it instead of resisting. Sam knew she had already won.
Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!
Sam fired off all four bullets. The first three collided with the bullets from Blind Moses’s rifle. The fourth kept going.
Sam looked into her enemy’s steely eyes and smirked. Bye-bye, bitch.
Blind Moses’s eyes widened as the fourth bullet struck her chest, the impact throwing her back and off the crane.
Time continued to move slowly for Sam as she ran toward the edge of the scaffolding. She watched as Blind Moses fell to the ground, hitting it with a sickening impact. Blood gradually pooled around her.
Sam breathed a sigh of relief. Locating a ladder, she slid down to the base of the crane. She then willed the power within her to subside.
Time returned to normal as she approached Blind Moses, who lay supine on top of a blood splatter. More blood pooled around her head. Tossing the empty pistol to the side, Sam got down on one knee in front of her.
Blind Moses twitched and gurgled, looking up at her with steel blue eyes.
Sam was only partially surprised that Blind Moses still lived. At this point, very little could surprise her.
She looked at Blind Moses’s skull mask. It was smooth, likely porcelain, and definitely a voodoo design. It was badly cracked. Without any ceremony, she tugged the mask off.
It was Violet Patterson.
Sam wished that Richie had been wrong. But it answered so many questions.
“Violet,” she said. “So it was you.”
“Princess… it looks like you won,” replied Violet in a weak voice. Her gaunt face was covered in blood.
“God, Violet,” Sam said, shaking her head. “I didn’t want to kill you. Why did you do this? Do you hate me that much?”
It was partially true. She didn’t want to have the desire to kill Violet, but she had felt it since meeting her again the other night. It was irresistible. She had felt that the two of them had to fight, and that one had to kill the other.
Violent started to laugh, but it quickly dwindled to a pained chortle. Spitting out some blood, she said, “You have no idea how much I loathe you, Princess. If you knew, you would have killed me years ago.”
Rodger and Richie, supporting each other, limped over to them.
Richie exclaimed, “How the hell did a blind woman do all this?”
Sam didn’t pay them any mind.
“Tell me why,” she said, desperation in her voice. “What did I ever do to you, Violet?”
Violet gave a snort. “Who is loved by the king of the castle? Who? The princess? Or the dog?”
Sam winced at Violet’s words. It was true that she was the one person Vincent loved the most. But to think that he treated Violet so horribly…
Violet shook as her breath began to fail. “And whose life is valued only so long as she remains useful? Surely not the king’s heir.”
“Violet,” Sam murmured, tears in her eyes, “I had no idea Grandfather was using you, abusing you. Even back then.”
Violet nodded weakly, tears shimmering in her eyes, too. It was the first time Sam had ever seen her cry. “I was his dog. Every day. Went where he needed me to go. Killed who he needed me to kill. Never a kind word. Never a thank you. Nothing but the next task. All while you got everything and did nothing for it. I loved him, Princess, with all my heart. And all I got in return was a vengeful hag and a lifetime of frailty and pain.”
“That’s too cruel,” Richie muttered.
Violet’s lips curled into a sneer. “Cruel? You’re one to talk.”
“Violet Patterson, are you the new Bourbon Street Ripper?” Rodger asked.
Violet shook her head. “No. I simply did what my master asked, as always. Take care of the people from before. Finish what was started twenty years ago. Tie up the loose ends.”
She started coughing a series of long hacking coughs. Blood coated her teeth. She turned her head and spat a wad of bubbling blood to the side. “The storm that’s on the horizon, Princess, will make what’s happening now seem like a fairy tale. Be prepared… for hell.”
Rodger shook his head. “Violet, who is your master?”
Violet’s lips had started to turn blue. It took her great effort, but she muttered, “In our store. In the King’s hat. My letter is there. It will explain everything I know.”
Rodger nodded. Richie rubbed his mouth.
“Violet, I am sorry,” Sam said, her tears flowing freely. “I never saw how much you suffered. Please forgive me. Please.”
“Samantha,” Violet muttered softly, her eyes glazing over, “I… I…”
And then Violet Patterson, alias Blind Moses, passed away.
Sam had just closed Violet’s eyes when she heard someone cock a gun right behind her. Eyes flashing up, she saw Richie recoil in horror and Rodger’s hand drop to his pistol.
She heard Detective Aucoin’s voice behind her. “Samantha Castille, you are under arrest for the murders of Virginia Babineaux, Rebecca Clemens, and Cheryl Aucoin.”
Her shoulders twitched. Her nerves tingled once more. Her body trembled in an impending release of violence. I could kill him. It would be so easy…
“Go on,” Aucoin said behind her, his voice trembling with unbridled rage. “Just give me a reason.”
Sam looked up at Richie and Rodger. Their expressions were fearful and anxious. She knew she couldn’t fight. If she resisted Aucoin, whether she killed him or he killed her, it would hurt the two of them. She couldn’t hurt them anymore. Resting on her hands, she lowered her head and muttered, “I surrender.”
With her adrenaline high finally gone, she felt immense pain within her body. Her guts hurt. Leaning forward, she vomited up some blood and felt herself weakening. Staying conscious was getting more and more difficult. Looking at the puddle she had spat up, she saw blood from her arms and chest trickling down and mixing with it. It made a macabre pattern on the ground. Oh, crap. I think I’m bleeding out.
She saw Commander Ouellette heading toward her, barking at Aucoin to stand down.
Looking back at Richie, she locked eyes with him. She wanted to say she loved him, but she couldn’t speak. It was like every spark within her was going out, one at a time.
Someone, please help, Sam thought as Aucoin stepped to her side. His gun was still pointed at her head, and he was arguing with Ouellette and Rodger. She couldn’t make out the words. Someone, help me. I think… I think I’m dying.
Her body gave out, and she fell forward, landing beside Violet. Looking at the peaceful face of her dead rival, she coughed up more blood. She managed a small, shaky smile.
You killed me after all, Violet.
She heard Richie yell her name. She heard Rodger shout for the EMTs to come.
She felt weaker and weaker, until her mind was within a body that couldn’t move. She was aware that the EMTs had arrived and that she was being rolled onto a stretcher. She could just make out the words “cardiac arrest” before her hearing shut down. The world was getting darker, and she could barely see Richie at her side. As one of the EMTs pulled him back, she could feel herself being lifted. She saw the interior of an ambulance, and then her vision went dark.
Her last thoughts were, Funny. Shouldn’t I hear the old Baron digging my grave?
Chapter 15
Farewell, Sam
Date: Tuesday, August 11th, 1992
Time: 5:30 a.m.
Location: Tulane University Hospital
Downtown New Orleans
Sam was no longer lying on her back. She was no longer dying. As the feeling of floating passed, she was aware that it was a beautiful May spring day, that she was in the Castille mansion, and that it was many years ago.
Samantha, at ten years old, was heading down the hallway toward her grandfather’s study. The sound of birds singing was melodiously joined by the buzzing of bees. The cloth of her brand-new dress rustled as she half-walked, half-skipped. In her arms was a brand-new porcelain doll which she had named Marie—a gift from her grandfather. Marie was wearing a similar dress to her own.
Stopping outside the entrance to his study, she smoothed out her dress and adjusted the barrettes in her hair. She wanted to look her absolute best for him. Then, putting on her cutest expression, she walked inside, beaming like a ray of sunshine.
Vincent was sitting at his desk and sobbing into a handkerchief.
In all her ten years, even when she had been injured in a riding accident or when her father had been stabbed while making an arrest, she had never seen her grandfather cry. So upon seeing this, she walked over and gently touched his knee. “Grandpa?”
He jerked a bit, obviously surprised, then looked at her. “My sweet Sam,” he said, pulling her into his lap. “Sorry you had to see me like that.” He looked tired and old. He had never looked that way before, and that worried her.
“Grandpa,” Samantha said, reaching up to hug him and laying a soft kiss on his cheek, “what’s wrong, Grandpa? Why are you crying?”
Her small body got enveloped in warmth as he hugged her back, holding her tightly. She just closed her eyes and held onto him. She didn’t know what was wrong, but she wanted him to feel better.
After he pulled back from the hug, he said, “Your grandfather lost someone very important to him, Sam, and it hurts. It also scares him.”
“Why’s that?” Samantha’s bright bl
ue eyes looked up at him.
“Because I thought I’d go first,” Vincent said, running his fingers through her hair. “I’m an old man. But life, it ends so easily. And losing this person made me realize that I could lose you in the blink of an eye. That is what makes the pain so much worse.”
She hardly understood what he meant, but she knew that seeing him in pain made her very upset. “What if I promise not to die, Grandpa? What if I promise to live forever and ever?”
Of course, to her, “forever” meant a very long time. She didn’t want to see her grandfather suffer anymore.
He dried his eyes. “Live forever, Sam? Yes. Yes, that is what I want for you as well.”
She threw her arms around him and said, “I want us all to never be afraid of dying. I don’t want to be afraid, either.” Because now that she was thinking about death, which she almost never did, she was afraid, too.
Vincent tilted his head and looked at her. “What did you say, Sam?”
Looking at him nose to nose, Samantha said, “Grandpa, I said I wish I could live without being afraid of dying.” She rubbed her small nose against his larger one.
He wrapped his arms around her once more, whispering, “Your father does love you, Sam, so very, very much.”
Not understanding why he said that, she just hugged him again.
When he stopped hugging her, tears were traveling down his cheeks. “All right, Sam, we have a deal. I’ll find a way to help you live a life without fear, without the fear of death.”
She thought that was a wonderful idea and, holding out her pinkie and interlocking it with his, made a pact with her beloved grandpa.
Vincent said, “Now, I just need to figure out how to do that.” He winked at her.
Samantha giggled. “Can you do that, Grandpa, really?”
“Well, I can try,” he said with a grin. “A friend of mine, one who has seen many of the world’s secrets and who I trust completely, gave me an idea I could follow up on. Similar to how I strengthened that little heart of yours.” He gently tapped right over her heart. “We’ll see if Grandpa can’t find a way to keep the old Baron from digging your grave, OK?”