Chapter 8

 

With Letty on leash and my giant suitcase in tow, I pressed my hand to the wall of the Cathedral-Basilica, exactly where Père Antoine had opened the magical archway before. The ghost-priest had told me that once I had my aspect, it would open to me too. Still, I couldn’t help but laugh a little in surprise when the pathway opened at my touch. It was the only evidence, so far, that Oggie had actually given me his aspect. Nothing else seemed to have changed. Even Isabelle couldn’t detect any difference.

“Fuck.”

I hadn’t thought about the staircase I’d have to descend when I packed my suitcase. I’d packed enough to clothe half of New Orleans and to shoe a small army. That is, if you could imagine an army styling enough to go to battle in designer heels and girly flats. Thankfully, I was wearing my tennies. A small consolation considering I had to make my way down all the stairs with a suitcase that probably matched my own bodyweight while also trying to manage my dog, who wasn’t particularly keen on tight spaces.

“Isabelle,” I said, taking a deep breath. “Please tell me there’s something you can do… a spell, whatever, anything to make this a little easier.”

Isabelle laughed. I’m not saying I couldn’t, but do you think that’s wise? I mean, if someone sees you wielding magic…

It was a fair point. In truth, though, it was a risk I was willing to take. “Could you at least try and help Letty?” I asked.

Isabelle had a way with animals. While she couldn’t leave my body, in total, she could astral project within a short range of my body. When we were alone, it was our preferred way to carry on a conversation. It just felt more natural to be able to look one another in the eye when we spoke. I was the only one who could see her astral form, though… the only human, at least. Animals could also see her, which might come in handy when it came to calming Letty’s nerves.

All right, Isabelle agreed. But if I sense anyone coming, I’m going to stop projecting. I know other people can’t see me, but I have no idea what a Loa can sense.

“Won’t you know in advance if it’s a Loa coming?”

Can you tell if it’s a man or a woman when you hear footsteps?

“Well sometimes… I mean, if she’s wearing heels.”

That’s not a guarantee. It could still be a man… some men like to feel pretty.

“Fair point.”

I can sense if someone is coming, but I won’t be able to tell if it’s a human or a Loa until I see the person’s aura.

I nodded as Isabelle projected her form in front of me. I was always struck by how pretty she was. She always appeared like a girl of about twelve… the age she was when her earthly life ended. She could change her wardrobe, she’d told me, if she’d imagined a better one. It was just easier, she said, to appear wearing something she’d actually worn in the past. Not to mention, since I was the only one who could see her, she just didn’t care to bother styling herself up. Who was I to impress? When you’re soul-fused to someone, there’s nothing to lose or gain by impressing one with one’s style. Typically, Isabelle appeared wearing a plain white dress cinched around the waist. Her hair tied up in a white bonnet of sorts. Her skin was dark and her features were fine. She probably could have grown up to be a model, she was that pretty, if she’d been born in another time. I had to constantly remind myself that she was, in fact, nearly a century and a half older than me. She hated it when I talked to her like a child—a habit I was more likely to fall into when she projected.

The oddest thing about her projections, though, was that when she spoke it still sounded like her voice resonated from within my mind… even though I could see her lips moving. It is a bit odd, in truth, but I’ve gotten used to it over the years.

“So, you can handle Letty?” I asked, unclasping her leash and stuffing it into the front pocket of my suitcase.

No problem…

Letty was as much Isabelle’s dog as she was mine. She’d shown up on my front porch two weeks after Isabelle and I were fused. She was just a puppy, and though we tried to find her original owners, no one had ever turned up. After a few weeks chained up in the backyard, my parents gave in to my constant pleas and allowed me to adopt her. While I couldn’t confirm it, I suspected she actually liked Isabelle more than me. I’m not sure what it was, exactly. Letty often sniffed at Isabelle’s apparition, as if she were as corporeal as you or me. Who knows… if the dog could see her, who’s to say she couldn’t smell her, too?

Even with Isabelle’s help, a 110-pound girl hauling a suitcase that weighs at least as much down a dozen or so flights of super-steep steps still proved a challenge. I’m sure, from Isabelle’s perspective, much hilarity ensued. I’m pretty sure my f-bombs closely paralleled the number of steps I had to descend. It sucked ass. No, not nice, firm ass… sloppy, hairy, pimply ass. That’s the kind of ass this sucked. It’s okay if you vomit a little in your mouth. I almost heaved, myself… no, not from visualizing my own metaphor, but out of sheer exertion.

I’m not a girl who sweats much… but accomplishing this feat, combined with the humidity of the place, left me soaked in my own natural nastiness. I certainly wasn’t in the condition I’d like to be when meeting my classmates for the first time.

Once we reached the bottom of the steps, Isabelle disappeared and I re-leashed the dog.

Ugh! I can smell your stench.

“Why is it when I stink, the stench is all mine… but when I doll myself up, you say ‘we’ look cute?”

Isabelle chuckled. I’m inconsistent, I’ll accept that flaw. At least I don’t smell bad.

I shook my head, grinning. Isabelle could be witty, when she wanted to be… when she wasn’t on one of her moralizing high horses. Still, she had a point. I did stink, and a visit to the ladies’ room could only do so much. I needed a shower.