Chapter 14

 

Marie Laveau stayed in the head shop—well, the place that had served as a cover for her queenly abode. She said it was home to her, where she was the most comfortable. She didn’t have much time left, and she didn’t want to make an appearance—she’d rather die peacefully with the Voodoo world remembering her as she was. Perpetually youthful, beautiful, and most of all, strong.

Headdress still on my head and wearing all the other Voodoo accoutrements I’d gained since I first arrived there—including the shrunken head, which, strangely enough, still managed to speak for Legba even as he was sealed and bound to his new host—I had to confess it was oddly comforting to have. Not that carrying around a shrunken head was going to do much in terms of winning friends and influencing people—a task I had to embrace as the new Voodoo queen—but because Legba had spent decades, maybe even centuries, with Kalfu also bound within his same body. For the greater part of that time, Legba had dominated the demon-like Loa. While that didn’t last forever, he would know better than anyone what Kalfu might be thinking, what his weaknesses could be, and how we might defeat him. He was an insider of sorts, in the know. And Oggie had always said, in a time of war, intelligence about the enemy is more valuable than any weapon. Still, apologizing to Legba in advance, I returned the shrunken head to its burlap sack. Aside from the stares I’d receive—even in the French Quarter, where this head shop was apparently located—the local authorities don’t generally look too kindly on the display of human remains in public.

The French Quarter was abuzz with chatter, the sound of jazz players on almost every corner, at least one guy playing a makeshift drum set made from five-gallon paint buckets, and the general happenings of the night.

The whole world seemed oblivious to the war that was brewing—to the fact that a demon Loa was raising an army of Bokor sorcerers, to the expanded clan of vampires, and even to the significance of my presence as the new Voodoo queen. Most of these people, half or more being tourists, would see me and my appearance as one of the many sideshows that littered the sidewalks and streets of the French Quarter. Only one in maybe fifty people who saw me seemed to acquiesce, as if they knew the truth, as if they recognized what the regalia I wore symbolized. Their reactions—those who did notice me—were a combination of fear and reverence. A power to respect, but one unknown enough to most that it was still terrifying.

I made my way to the Esplanade end of Decatur street—where Casa do Diabo stood. It was night, so I should have seen more activity than I did. The place had been packed with vampires—all those turned didn’t have anywhere else to go. I couldn’t go inside. It was still warded against those who had Ogoun’s aspect. I knocked on the door, tapped on windows. Nothing…

A flash of rainbow-colored light grabbed my attention—Pauli in his rainbow-snake form appeared, curled around a lamppost.

“Annabelle!” Pauli said. “Thank God you’re back… it’s too awful.” Pauli was practically hyperventilating.

“Pauli, what happened?”

“The girl… the new vampire… she’s…”

“Hailey? What about her, Pauli? Just breathe…”

“She’s not just a vampire. She’s a witch… and Kalfu…”

I narrowed my brow. Hailey, the innocent girl who’d just been turned, who I left with Mercy so she could tame her bloodlust… was a witch, too? That didn’t bother me so much. I mean, who cares? As a Mambo, some people would think of me as a witch of sorts. Witches aren’t all little green ladies riding on broomsticks. Most are good people. But whatever had Pauli rattled was something else, something she’d done.

“What did Hailey do, Pauli?”

“The vampires… they’re gone. Kalfu got them all… all except for Mercy.”

“My parents?”

Pauli shook his diamond-shaped head. “I think they’re fine too. But the new ones… the ones from Vilokan… he got all of them, Annabelle!”