Hounacier (Valducan Book 2) (29 page)

Falling to her knees, Gulmet twisted around. She raised her arm in a pitiful attempt, but the blade came down on her neck, and she crumpled. She gave two ragged gasps, her single paw scratching the ground, then crimson fire burst from her wounds.

Panting, Malcolm watched the fire spread across the corpse. Hounacier trembled in his hand and rose of its own volition. Fiery blood flickered along the blade as it moved toward Malcolm's left hand. He smiled and rolled his palm upward to meet it. He winced as she bit into his skin, and the fire surged into him. A familiar half-lidded eye glowed in his palm for only a moment then faded away.

"Thank you," he whispered.

The surrounding audience stood silent, watching the werewolf's fire. None seemed saddened.

"You," Baron Samedi called to Officer Hendricks. "Take her, and feed her to the gators. She deserves no burial." He strode to where Malcolm stood and nodded. "You did well, Doctor. But…" He raised a finger then lowered it at him like a knights' lance. "You still owe a debt for your life."

Malcolm swallowed. "I remember."

"You are our bokor, and it's time to honor our queen's decree. Do you understand?"

He nodded.

"Say it."

"I understand."

"Good. Now, you take care of yourself. And you take care of our people." He grinned that skull-like grin. "I'll be watchin'." Then his eyes rolled back, and he shivered.

Jim stumbled back, and Malcolm grabbed him by the tuxedo jacket, getting some of his blood on the shoulder. Jim looked up in confusion, then the recognition flashed in his eyes. "Mal?"

"It's me."

Jim touched the jacket and looked back. He jumped as his gaze found the burning demon. "What the…?"

"It's okay, Jim." Malcolm squeezed his shoulder assumingly. "It's dead."

Papa Ghede sauntered up, a smug smile across his face. "Don't worry there, Jimmy. Milky got it under control."

Jim lowered his head in sudden reverence. "Papa Ghede."

"You're late to the party, Jimmy. I was just about to go. My brother says you've been buyin' those cheap cigars again. Told me to tell you he expects to find better ones in the pocket next time he wears your jacket."

"Of course, Papa."

Ghede beamed at Malcolm. "You made me very proud, Milky. I know Ulises is too."

"Thank you," Malcolm said.

"You won your lady back. Careful not to lose her again."

"I will be," Malcolm said, but the loa's visible eye had already rolled up.

Most of the other loa were all leaving as well, their hosts staggering. Yelps of surprise and fear erupted as all eyes found the corpse that was Gulmet and Atabei.

The homeless man now standing before Malcolm in a pair of broken sunglasses started screaming. He stumbled past Malcolm, trying to escape the monster and the terror of not knowing where he was or how he got there, and ran off.

"My children," Papa Legba yelled in that commanding tone, banging the tip of cane down like a gavel. "Calm yourselves." He looked around, silent as the priests and priestesses realized who was speaking. "This creature murdered and stalked your streets, and it would have kept on doing it until the end of time, and there's nothing none of you could have done to stop it, save this man." He gestured to Malcolm. "Doctor Romero is our sword-bearer. Hounacier is his bride. He has walked the darkness beyond what any of you will ever know, and now, he's come back to the light to save you from it. Treat him with respect for the sacrifices he makes." He nodded to Malcolm, then his eyes rolled back as the loa left its body.

Malcolm pushed his way through the closing crowd until he found Tasha near the back, huddled with Maggie.

Tasha wrapped her arms around him as he came close. "Is it over?"

He held her against his chest. "It's over." Malcolm squeezed her tight. She smelled like sweat, candle smoke, and dust. "I love you."

She pulled back, that angry fire smoldering behind her tears. "Don't say that. Don't you say that and then leave me again. I won't do it."

Malcolm glanced at Maggie, watching them, and then shook his head. "Don't worry. I'm not going anywhere."

_______________

To: ; ;

From:

Subject: NOLA Field Report and Notification of Reassignment

_______________

I apologize for the delay in this field report. I've attached it as well as an assessment of information I gleaned while possessed. Please regard this second item with the highest importance. We have never had opportunity to observe these entities as closely, and the information is quite disturbing. The summary is:

•   
  Werewolves, if not all werebeasts, can completely control a victim without having to physically manifest or without the victim's knowledge of its occurrence. Even Matt Hollis' blood compasses cannot detect this limited manifestation.
  
•   
  We have incorrectly assumed that demons like werewolves consumed flesh or blood as nourishment. However, the flesh is merely a means to consume their true sustenance, which is energy. In the case of werewolves, that energy is terror.
  
•   
  Most disturbingly, demons are able to propagate themselves. While this theory has been proposed numerous times before, it has never been proven. After recent events in Italy, we incorrectly assumed that demons were spawned entirely by Tiamat. I can verify that the 1783 field report from Sir Tomas Jansen's expedition to Greece correctly identified a pregnant female werewolf and her mate.
  

However, the reason for my delay in sending this report and my findings is of a very personal nature. While it has been a great honor to have served the Order as a Senior Knight and Team Leader, recent events have forced me to accept Hounacier's calling, and I must step down from this position. As payment for my life, I have agreed to the loa that I shall stay in New Orleans to continue Ulises' work. While I would prefer to say that this was a difficult decision, I cannot. My possession was not without repercussions, and a small piece of my soul was lost with it. Hounacier has filled that void. Our bond is now greater than it has ever been, and I feel her calling for me to stay. Please understand that I do not wish to leave the Order, but merely change my responsibilities. I am, and always shall remain, a Valducan knight.

Obviously, this creates a hole in the leadership structure. It is my opinion that Luiza Hollis is the most capable of filling that position. However, due to her current pregnancy and soon-to-be motherhood, I do not know if she will accept it. If not, the next choice should be to reassign Luc Renault to the Americas and promote Uwe Rachow to lead the Western European teams. While such a change might appear dramatic, with Taras Orlovski's current medical condition, I do not feel that anyone else is capable of filling that role.

Matt Hollis, while still unqualified to fill a Team Leader rank, should be considered as Arms Master. While Luiza currently serves that position, and may choose to continue it if she declines promotion, Matt is a superior candidate. Not only is Matt's knowledge of weapons considerable, his abilities as a New World hunter are beyond compare. Having seen him operate alone in the field, I believe he would be an exceptional teacher for not only New World hunters, but all Valducans, since our ranks have been so reduced. Because of personal history, I suspect he would be more amenable to such a promotion if he were not told that I recommended him for it.

Thank you all for the opportunity to have served as a Team Leader. I hope nothing but the best for you and for the Order.

Sincerely,

Sir Malcolm Romero, PhD

Chapter Twenty-One

"Wise one, patient one, Papa Legba take my gift and help me find the way." Malcolm kissed the needle and worked the final stitch into the red leather. He looked at the little photograph of a big-eared kid named Troy Miller, repeated the prayer, and tied off the white thread.

Tasha's laugh carried in through the door as Matt shared one of his many stories. With their mutual interests in movies and antiques, the two of them got along wonderfully, which made Malcolm a little nervous. He didn't know why it should, but it did, and that made him even more nervous. So he tried not to think about it.

He set the gris-gris to the side and blew out the six candles. Rising from his desk, Malcolm eyed the growing stack of pictures and little baggies of personal items for more gris-gris. After Rochelle Duplessis' prompt and generous promotion, he had become very popular, especially with police, who he readily accepted.

Malcolm stepped out of the office, now quickly filling with candle smoke. The smell of coffee helped mask the lingering odor of new paint and carpet.

Tasha smiled from the kitchen table, still chuckling at whatever Matt was saying. "Morning."

"Morning." He walked in and gave her a kiss. "You leave any coffee for me?"

"Just made a fresh pot," Matt said.

"Perfect." Malcolm noted the two suitcases in the corner beside Matt, one a blue hard-side meant to carry the obsidian mask. "All packed up?"

Matt nodded. "Yup."

Malcolm poured his coffee and opened the fridge. An array of mismatched dishes, their contents and makers scrawled across their foil and plastic wrap coverings, filled the shelves. Neighbors and prospective clients, hoping to make a good impression and welcome him, had provided the near endless bounty. He scoured the selection, hoping to find at least something he wasn't tired of or at least remotely in the mood for. Malcolm sighed and closed the door.

The coffeemaker's green clock read, 7:26.

"What time do we need to get you to your ship?" he asked.

"They said eleven," Matt said

"Then let's take you out. Get some breakfast, couple drinks."

"Tired of casserole?"

"No," Malcolm said, an unintentional defensiveness in his voice. "It's just it'll still be here this evening, and tomorrow, but you won't. Let's go out."

"I'm down," Tasha said.

Matt nodded. "Sure."

"Perfect," Malcolm said. "Let me just get some—"

A knock came from the door.

Tasha gave a wide "Every Single Time" smile and gestured toward it.

Expecting a new well-wisher or client, Malcolm crossed the little living room, drew a breath, smiled, then opened the door.

Earl Warren, dressed in a blue suit, beamed at him. "Morning, Malcolm."

"Good morning. Come on in, Earl."

"Hi, Earl," Tasha called from the table.

"Morning. I can't stay for too long," he said, stepping inside. "I have a showing down the street and figured I'd drop by, see how things were coming." Earl looked around with an approving nod. His gaze lingered for a moment on the obsidian mask on the facing wall. "Like what you've done. Tasha, you've done a good job."

"Why does everyone think it's her?" Malcolm asked, following him into the kitchen. "I'm the one that lives here."

The priest smiled knowingly. "My mistake."

"No, it wasn't," Tasha said.

"I didn't think it was." He bent and gave her a hug. "And how are you, Mister Hollis?"

"Fine. You?"

"Can't complain." Earl nodded to the suitcases. "So you leaving us?"

"Yeah," Matt said. "I need to get back home."

"I understand. Well, it was a pleasure to meet you." Earl scratched his cheek. "The other reason I dropped by, Mal, is we're having a little barbeque picnic next Saturday. The church's third anniversary. And I wanted to extend an invitation to both of you."

"Well, thank you. Sure."

Earl smiled. "Perfect. Maggie will be there, of course, and if you don't mind, I'd ask that you not mention it to Jim until after I've given him the invite myself."

"Of course," Malcolm said. "How is, um, Gary working out for you?"

"Gary? He's doing fine. I got him working on some odd jobs around the church. Couple of the members have been finding other work for him."

"Good. Anything…unusual?"

"Nothing that I've noticed. He'll be at the picnic too. You can see for yourself." Earl checked his watch. "Anyway, I just wanted to drop in, see how you were, and pass the invitation along."

"Well, thank you," Tasha said. "Let us know what we need to bring. And good luck at your showing."

"Appreciate it." he shook Matt hand. "Take care, Mister Hollis."

"You too."

Malcolm led Earl back to the door. "I'll see you next Saturday."

"Have a good day."

Malcolm shut the door and walked back into the kitchen, where Matt was grinning like a school boy who knew the principal's fly was down. "What?"

"Picnics?"

"Don't be jealous."

Matt chuckled. "I just wouldn't have believed it."

"He's just making nice," Tasha said. "Very sweet of him to extend the offer."

Matt shrugged. "If you get too soft, I'm going to shoot you again."

Malcolm snorted. "You got too much enjoyment out of that."

"So much that I did it twice." He gave a little smile.

"Well, don't worry. I think I'm going to be plenty busy. Now, come on. Let's get some breakfast and get you home to Luiza."