Longarm and the Voodoo Queen (17 page)

Despite the warmth of the night, his blood froze at the scene laid out before him.

Claudette was struggling in the grip of a huge black man in work clothes. She flailed at him and clawed his face, but he didn't seem to even feel the blows. He wasn't trying to hurt her, but he was holding her in an unbreakable grip.

Another man was shuffling toward Longarm, arms outstretched, his face as dull and lacking in expression as that of his companion. Longarm took one look at him and uttered a heartfelt, "Shit!"

The Devil and Davy Crockett behind him, bent on filling him full of lead, and a pair of equally murderous zombies in front of him...

It was times like this that made a fella wonder why he had ever pinned on a lawman's badge in the first place.

CHAPTER 12

The two pursuers burst out of the alley into the courtyard and opened fire just as the dead-eyed man lunged toward Longarm. Longarm threw himself to the side, rolling out of the way. The gunmen couldn't stop their trigger fingers in time, and several shots roared out.

But instead of hitting Longarm, the bullets thudded into the broad chest of the huge black man who had tried to grab him. Just as before, the slugs barely slowed the man. Unable to stop his single-minded charge, he crashed into the two costumed bushwhackers. They yelled in horror as his hands found their throats. More shots roared, the explosions muffled by the huge body.

Longarm came up in a crouch, knowing that for the time being at least, three of his enemies were occupied with each other. That left Claudette, who was still struggling in the grip of the other... well, zombie. There was nothing else to call them, thought Longarm. He reversed his hold on the Colt and threw himself at the figures swaying in the shadows.

Even in this gloom, he could make out the man who towered over Claudette. Longarm brought the Colt down, slamming the butt of the gun against the back of the man's skull. There was no response, so he struck again and then again. Finally, after the third blow, the man shoved Claudette aside and swung around toward Longarm, his movements slow and lumbering but no less dangerous.

From the corner of his eye, Longarm saw Claudette stumble backwards to lean against the side of a building as she gasped for breath. He flipped the gun around so that its barrel pointed toward the huge shape. Even though he knew he was probably wasting his breath, he said harshly, "Hold it right there, old son! I don't want to have to kill you!"

These men, entranced just like the first one who had stalked Longarm, were not acting of their own accord. Longarm was convinced of that. Someone had put a spell on them--or drugged them, that was the more rational explanation--and sent them after him. Who had done that, and why, he didn't know. Royale was the best bet, but he had no proof that Royale used voodoo. The zombies looked like dockworkers. They were probably innocent men who had been turned into living weapons, and now that he knew what he was facing, Longarm didn't want to have to shoot them.

But there might not be any other way to stop them. Even now, the second man, the one who had been hit by several shots from the two gunmen, was climbing ponderously back to his feet, leaving two motionless figures sprawled on the alley floor behind him, their heads set at odd angles. The Devil and Davy Crockett had come to a bad end.

And so would Longarm and Claudette if they didn't get out of here.

One advantage they had over the creatures was that the zombies were slow. Longarm darted around the one coming toward him, easily avoiding a clumsy swipe of the man's ham-like hand. He grabbed Claudette's arm and said, "Come on!"

They broke into a run, dashing from the courtyard into another alley that opened off it. Once again Longarm and Claudette raced along blindly, convinced that anything they might run into in the darkness wouldn't be as bad as what was behind them. For a moment, Longarm could hear the shuffling sounds of pursuit, but then the noises faded away as he and Claudette emerged onto another street. He had no idea where they were. They were among people again, though, and he was grateful for that. This street was nowhere near as packed as St. Charles Avenue had been, but there were enough revelers on the sidewalks for them to be able to blend into the crowd. Longarm slid his gun back into its holster before anyone could notice it, then led Claudette in a fast walk along the sidewalk. They weaved in and out of the celebrating pedestrians.

Quite a few people on this street were wearing costumes too, but none of them paid any attention to Longarm and Claudette. Longarm hoped that the pirate, the Indian, the clown, the devil, and the frontiersman had been the only assassins after him tonight. But who had sent them, and why had those zombies popped up like that? Had they been trailing him too? And what the hell had happened to Paul and Annie Clement? Longarm figured he had better get back to the Brass Pelican and find out if Millard had heard anything. If Royale had kidnapped the Clements, it had to be because of their connection with Millard, so it was natural to assume that he would get in touch with Millard to present his ransom demands.

Longarm's jaw tightened. He hoped like blazes that the next time around, Billy Vail would assign him to a case that was a mite simpler--like finding one particular blade of grass in the whole damned Great Plains!

After a few minutes, Longarm got his bearings and turned toward the waterfront. Claudette's hand tightened on his arm. "Custis," she said, "what are we to do?"

"I have to find out if Millard knows anything about what happened to Annie and Paul," said Longarm. "It's a pretty complicated business, Claudette, but Millard has an enemy who might try to get at him through his friends."

Claudette nodded. "This enemy, he is a voodoo priest, no?"

"Now, I just don't know about that," Longarm answered honestly.

"Only a priest or priestess of voudun could send those zombies after you."

Longarm shot a glance at her. "You know about things like that?"

"Gran'pere, his gran'mama was from Haiti. The slavers, they bring her there from Africa, long, long ago. Voudun was a religion there, and she was a high priestess, you see. She know all them rituals and how the religion got turned into voodoo... black magic. As a boy, Gran'pere hear the stories she tell, and he believe, you bet. I remember once, he been feudin' with this other fella who live round the bayou, and Gran'pere come to N'Awleans, buy himself a gris-gris--what you call a black magic charm--from Marie Laveau. He leave it on the fella's doorstep, and that fella, he get sick and like to die."

"But he didn't die?" asked Longarm, interested in this bizarre tale.

Claudette shook her head. "No. But he would have, you bet, if he had not come up here and bought a gris-gris of his own from the Voodoo Queen, what they call Marie Laveau."

"So he bought something to ward off the black magic your granddaddy sicced on him."

Claudette nodded.

"And he bought it from the same person who sold the original charm to Gran'pere," said Longarm.

"That is right."

Despite the harrowing night he had had, Longarm had to chuckle. "So this Marie Laveau gets 'em coming and going. Sounds like a pretty smart businesswoman."

Claudette stared at him, aghast at his lack of respect. "She is the Voodoo Queen!"

"Then maybe she's the lady I need to talk to if I want to find out who's been sending those zombies after me."

Claudette's eyes widened. "You have seen the zombies before tonight?"

"One of 'em tried to wring my neck a few nights ago," Longarm told her.

She shuddered and said, "You are a lucky man, you. Zombies come after a man, he wind up dead most all the time."

"I don't intend to let any zombie drag me back into the grave with him," declared Longarm. "I hate to ask it, but since you know something about this stuff, would you be willing to help me find this Marie Laveau?"

Again, Claudette shuddered. "It is not hard to find her. She lives in a little house on St. Anne Street. A fella who was grateful to her because she help his son give her the house. It belong to her for the rest of her days."

"You know where it is?"

She nodded. "I know."

"Will you show me?"

Stubbornly, Claudette shook her head. "I will not do this thing."

"But-"

She interrupted his protest. "I will go there and speak to Marie Laveau for you, Custis. I be safe there, but maybe you wouldn't be, no. Better for me to go by myself first."

"Damn it, that's not what I want. I don't want anything to happen to you."

She stopped and smiled up at him. Down the block, several men were serenading some women who leaned over the wrought-iron railing of a balcony on the second floor of one of the buildings. As the drunken, out-of-tune strains of "If Ever I Cease to Love" filled the night, Claudette put her hand on the back of Longarm's neck and pulled his head down to hers. Her mouth found his.

"I do this for you, Custis," she whispered as she broke the kiss. "Don't worry, you. The Voodoo Queen got no reason to put a spell on me."

"Well, all right," Longarm said grudgingly. "But be mighty careful."

"I will come to your hotel when I find out anything."

Longarm nodded and told her the room number. "Aren't you coming back to the Brass Pelican now?"

She shook her head. "No. Tell Mr. Millard how very sorry I am, but I have a more important job now, you bet. I help you find out who are your enemies, no?"

She had unofficially deputized herself, thought Longarm, and he had allowed such a thing to happen. When this case was over, he might have to be a little creative in the report he wrote for Billy Vail.

But then, a lot of things had already happened that Billy wasn't likely to believe!

Longarm kissed her again and repeated, "Be careful."

With a smile and a wave, Claudette left him there, a few blocks from Gallatin Street. He sighed as he watched her disappear into the crowd. There were still plenty of revelers abroad on this night of nights. Longarm turned and made his way through them, heading for the Brass Pelican. He still had to find out if Millard had heard anything about Paul and Annie Clement.

"What the hell happened to you?"

Millard greeted him with that growled question as Longarm came up to the bar in the Brass Pelican a few minutes later. Before Longarm could answer, Millard went on. "Paul Clement said you got in some kind of a fight at the Mardi Gras parade."

"Clement's been here?" asked Longarm sharply.

"Of course. He and his sister came back here earlier. They said you and that girl Claudette ran off together, that there was a fight and some shooting."

"Paul and Annie were all right?"

Millard frowned. "They were shaken up a little, but yeah, they were all right. What's going on here, Parker? You're acting mighty strange."

Longarm felt a surge of relief. So Annie and Clement had just gotten separated from him in the crowd and hadn't been kidnapped by Royale after all. He looked around the room. "Are they here now?"

Millard shook his head. "No, they left a little while ago. Annie was upset by everything that had happened. She was worried about you, Parker. Now, damn it, I want some answers.

"Royale," said Longarm. "He had some men dressed up in Mardi Gras costumes, and they followed us through the crowd and tried to kill me at the parade."

"Son of a bitch!" Millard's hands curled into fists. "Every time I start to hope maybe that bastard's given up, he tries something else. Were you hurt? What about Claudette?"

"We got away from Royale's men after I winged one of 'em." That was almost the truth, thought Longarm. He was just leaving out any mention of zombies. No need to spook Millard--or make the man think he was crazy. "I don't know if Claudette's coming back here to the club or not. She was pretty shaken up by the whole thing too. She's spent most of her life in the bayou country. She may have decided she doesn't much like New Orleans after all."

"Blast it!" exclaimed Millard. "She was a mighty pretty little thing. I was looking forward to getting to know her better."

I'll just bet you were, old son, thought Longarm. He knew exactly how Millard intended to get to know Claudette better. Maybe she was safer going to see that so-called Voodoo Queen after all.

"At least everything's been peaceful here," continued Millard. He swept a hand around to indicate the crowd of gamblers and drinkers, many of them attired in costumes. "This is going to be one of the most profitable nights of the year."

"If Royale doesn't butt in again," Longarm pointed out.

Millard glowered and nodded in agreement.

Longarm spent the rest of the night in the Brass Pelican, and as Millard had predicted, it was a lucrative evening for the club. The place was still doing a booming business as the new day dawned.

"Go home," Millard said to a yawning Longarm. "We've made it through the night, and I don't think Royale's going to try anything now."

Longarm nodded. He was anxious to return to the St. Charles and see if Claudette had shown up there following her visit to Marie Laveau. Bareheaded, since he hadn't had a chance to retrieve the planter's hat that had been shot off in the ambush attempt, he left the club and walked through streets littered almost ankle-deep with the debris of the previous night's celebration. Quite a few people were still on the sidewalks, most of them staggering along drunkenly in costumes disheveled by hours of partying. In the light of dawn, everything that had seemed so colorful and exotic the night before now appeared faintly seedy and disreputable.