Chapter 41

 

Gaylon left a trail of blood as he hurried away from Mama’s house. It didn’t matter because he had other things on his mind now. They included how he was going to stop the bleeding and get the bullet lodged between his spine and shoulder blade out without dying first.

The only person he even halfway trusted had stabbed him with a dagger less than twenty-four hours ago. He headed toward Sister Agnes with trepidation. There was little else for him to do and still stay out of the hands of the police.

Gaylon, knowing his mother Rose rarely visited, entered Sister Agnes’ room without knocking. Agnes was not about, and he found a towel to cram in the wound that was still dripping blood. He couldn’t quite reach it, so he wadded the towel against his back. Leaning against the wall, he staunched the flow of blood until Sister Agnes arrived. She seemed agitated when she opened the door and found him waiting for her.

“Are you crazy? Someone could have seen you come in here.”

“No one saw me, and I had no choice,” he said. “I’ve been shot.”

Sister Agnes pulled his shoulder away from the wall and glanced at the towel, now sticky with blood and adhering to the wound.

“I should kill you myself. I heard the news. You spared the two I sent you to kill, taking two police officers instead. Are you totally unaware that you’ve probably led them directly to me?”

“No one saw me come here. Would you like it if I went to an emergency room instead?”

Despite her anger, Sister Agnes realized his argument. “What am I supposed to do? Even if I can stop the bleeding, I still can’t take the bullet out.”

“Do what you can or I won’t survive until morning.”

“I’m not through with you yet, and you’ll do better than that. One of my minions is a medical doctor, though he probably hasn’t seen a patient or been sober in a decade. I’ll send a kanzo to get him.”

“You trust him?”

“Does it matter now? The old drunk won’t remember a thing in the morning. If he does, no one will believe him.”

Sister Agnes changed out of her peasant-nun clothes and dressed in a manner appropriate for a Vodoun mambo. When she did, her character also changed to that of Mambo Aghnee. Gaylon was in a near death stupor because of loss of blood when the doctor arrived, a little rag doll of a man that hadn’t bathed in years. Mambo Aghnee gave him something from a vial that seemed to sober him instantly. He acted almost professionally as he inspected Gaylon’s injury.

“I’m Doctor Levant,” the man said. “I need to remove the bullet from your back and stop the bleeders.”

Mambo Aghnee’s only medical instruments were forceps and a scalpel. She heated water, cleansed the wound, and acted as Doctor Levant’s nurse, swabbing blood with gauze she tossed into a paper bag as he probed the wound. Mambo Aghnee had given Gaylon a potent painkiller, and his mind languished somewhere between dull reality and distant fantasy as the cutting blade did its work. The moan of a tugboat whistle on the river sounded like approaching ghosts and caused him to believe he was either dead or dying.

Despite being a longtime drunk, Doctor Levant had once been a competent E.R. doctor in downtown New Orleans and had dug many bullets out of gunshot victims in his lifetime. The procedure took less than fifteen minutes, including the time to stitch the wound with needle and thread.

“I took care of all the bleeders. He has lost lots of blood though not enough to kill him. He’s a strong man and should lead a long and productive life.”

Mambo Aghnee already knew he would survive. Living a long and productive life was another matter altogether. In fact, she had plans to the contrary. She blew powder up Levant’s nose and gave him a bottle of Ripple. Soon, the little man was back on the street without remembering he had saved a person’s life by digging a bullet out of his back.

“You lost lots of blood,” Mambo Aghnee said. “You’ll be stronger in the morning. You will sleep on the floor tonight. You’re still seeping blood, and I don’t want you to stain my bedclothes.”

Mambo Aghnee taped a towel to his injury, threw a blanket and pillow on the floor beside the bed, and gave him more painkillers before crawling under the covers and turning off the light. Gaylon moaned when the medication wore off, and his groans of extreme discomfort continued through the night. Mambo Aghnee ignored him. When she awoke the following morning, she found him sitting in her rocking chair, staring at the street below. She started a pot of coffee. She drank a cup without offering him any. As caffeine began working on her, she started in on him in an angry tirade.

“Even though you’re a total incompetent there is still one job you must do for me. The most important job I’ll ever ask of you.”

He continued staring out the window at the rush hour traffic below. To reward his attention, Mambo Aghnee walked behind him and kicked him in the back. Gaylon groaned and sank to his knees.

“I’m listening,” he said. “What is it you want?”

“You are a sorry excuse for a human being. I don’t care now. You will do it, or I will cut out your heart myself and eat it raw. Hear me? You are nothing more than cow dung, and I wouldn’t trust you to take out the trash. At least Baron Samedi knows how to kill someone.”

Swollen red welts marked Gaylon’s face where Mama had thrown scalding coffee on him. Seeing the marks, Mambo Aghnee slapped him hard across the cheek before performing an incantation and tracing a vever on his forehead. He took the abuse without whimpering, and a transformation began as Mambo Aghnee chanted over the vever.

“You summoned me, Mambo? For what purpose?” he said.

“Death,” she said.

Baron Samedi smiled. “A subject I can warm up to. What is your wish?”

“Sister Rose must die. If it pleases you Baron Samedi, I beg that you kill the heretic and bring me her heart. I pray you do to her whatever else you see fit.

Mambo Aghnee had put a dark suit on her bed, along with a top hat and garish sunglasses. When Baron Samedi had changed into the clothes, she gave him a cigar. He grinned as he put it in his mouth. Without another word, he went out the door and down the hall to Sister Rose’s apartment. There, he waited for almost an hour.

***

Sister Rose liked sharing breakfast with the people of her mission. Not that she had an enormous appetite. For her, attending a breakfast with her congregation was more symbolic than real. The woman weighed little more than one hundred twenty pounds even though she was almost six feet tall. The large hall was almost empty when she started upstairs to her apartment. The room was dark, and it took her a bit to see the person sitting in her worn Lazy Boy.

“Who are you?” she said, turning on the lights.

“Junior,” he said. “Don’t you know me, Mom?”

“Gaylon, why are you wearing that hat and those awful glasses? And get that nasty thing out of your mouth.”

Gaylon grinned, showing his teeth without removing the cigar. “How you doing, Mom?”

“You’re not my son. Who are you?”

“Gaylon is with me. You’re absolutely right. I’m not Gaylon. You have sinned against your son, and I’m about to correct those sins.”

Sister Rose approached Baron Samedi, still unsure he wasn’t Gaylon. She touched his face. “Of what sins am I guilty?”

“You deserted Gaylon when he needed you most,” Samedi/Gaylon said. “You betrayed your husband and your best friend.”

“I did none of those things. Your father filed for divorce when I finally had the courage to confront him with his many indiscretions. My accusations earned me one of the worst beatings I’d ever endured. Still, I persevered. He fought me in court and got custody of you. He had all the money, the judges all his friends. All I had was my good name. Before he finished with me, he also took that. I wanted you badly. It didn’t matter. I spent myself into bankruptcy. I yearned for you for years. I am so sorry, son.

“I am not your son. I told you that. Your son is here. I am not him.”

“If you aren’t my son then let him reveal himself. I beg you,” she said.

“I have another purpose.”

“What purpose could you have that’s more important than dialogue between a mother and her son?”

“A powerful mambo has given me a job. I must carry it out.”

“What powerful mambo? Are you a messenger from Sister Agnes?”

“You mean Mambo Aghnee?”

Sister Rose dropped to her knees. Outside a semi lumbered by on the street, agitating a dozen noisy pigeons perched on the windows.

“Gaylon, I love you and never wanted to hurt you. I must tell you something. Whitney was your real father. Even though I’m your mother I’m not your biological mother.”

Baron Samedi’s facial features changed slightly, and he placed the cigar in a glass sitting on a table. “Go on,” he said.

“Your real mother is Sister Agnes. As you know, she was your father’s assistant. They lived together in Washington. She was more of his wife than I ever was.”

Sister Rose’s words were powerful. They started a physical transformation, gradual at first that she could see on his face. She continued talking and her words began changing Baron Samedi back to Gaylon LeBlanc.

Gaylon removed the sunglasses and put them on the table. “Why didn’t you tell me this before now?”

“I wanted to, believe me. Whitney told me if I ever talked to you about it, he would never let me see you again.”

Baron Samedi’s smile had washed away from the face of the man staring at Sister Rose. His hat was on the floor, no longer covering his blondish hair. Baron Samedi’s dark eyes were also gone, replaced by Gaylon’s and his real mother’s unique blues.

“If you knew about Agnes and my father, why did you wait so long to leave him. and why did you allow her to join you here at the Mission?”

“Agnes is my best friend. We loved the same man. I have more in common with her than any person alive. Your father was a righteous man in many ways even if he had a dark side that most people never saw. He could be cruel and unforgiving. I’m sure you know what I mean. The object Agnes and I share most is you.”

Baron Samedi was now totally gone, and Gaylon’s mind now aching as much as his body. An hour had passed when he hugged Sister Rose, kissed her goodbye, and promised he would come again soon. He didn’t leave the mission immediately, returning first to Sister Agnes’ quarters. She was staring out the window, an ugly frown on her face, her arms tightly locked, and her dagger clasped firmly in her hands.

When Gaylon entered the room without knocking, she said, “Did you bring me something?” He didn’t answer, and Mambo Aghnee turned to face the visitor. She immediately saw it was not Baron Samedi. “You,” she said with a sneer. “Where is Baron Samedi?”

“Sister Rose sent him away.”

“And just what do you mean?”

“You sent me to kill my mother. For that task, I don’t need Baron Samedi’s help.”