aithne | Black Angel Crossroads: Hard Freedoms

[Usual disclaimers apply: 1832 Louisiana, difficult cultural history, certain realities of race relations and slavery that can't be avoided. Proceed with caution, if you're sensitive.]

Where am I?

And why can't I move?

Opening her eyes led to the answer to both questions. The room was Gabriel's, and the reason she couldn't move was that he was wrapped around her, even in sleep holding to her so tightly that she wasn't sure if he'd ever let go. He must be so lonely, she thought. She wouldn't have thought someone with such a close-knit family, brother and sister-in-law and nieces and nephew, could be all that lonely, but Odile had an idea that Gabriel had felt the lack of companionship after his wife had died keenly.

Thinking about Noemi made Odile a little uneasy. The room with all her things in it was just across the hallway. Despite Gabriel's flirtatious ways, she thought that maybe there wasn't really room in his life for someone else, even now.

It was too early in the morning to be thinking these thoughts, she decided, and began to try to wriggle her way out of Gabriel's grasp. There were people who needed her to help hide them, and that was much better done sooner rather than later. Gabriel muttered in his sleep and tried to hold her tighter, but at last she managed to wake him up.

"I need to go, Gabriel," she told him. "I need to go hide those people."

"It's barely sunrise," he said. "Stay a little longer?"

"I can't," she said, and pulled out of his grasp. He lunged forward and caught her wrist as she tried to get up, pulling her laughing back into bed. "No, really, I need to get dressed."

He released her only to catch her and pull her back into bed. Odile pulled away again only to be caught again. "Promise to come back?" he asked.

She smiled at him. "I promise," she told him, leaning forward and kissing him. Gabriel grinned and let her get up and go wash her face and pull on her clothes. He propped himself up in bed and watched her dress, looking really rather rapt. She tried to ignore him, but found herself at once a little disturbed by the attention and a little flattered.

She gathered up her bag and left, walking through the kitchen where Maryse wouldn't let her out until she accepted a couple of big pieces of cornbread. Odile ate those as she walked out onto Barataria, where the morning mist was clinging under trees and the dew silvered blades of grass in the sunrise.

She walked to her house and collected up the people who had spent the night camped more or less on her front porch. There were twenty-five total, twelve children and the rest adults. They had packages of food and supplies and, dragged up on the bank of the bayou that ran near her house, two canoes and a raft. They would all fit, barely.

Odile led the way. She was leading them to an island that was one of the larger patches of dry land deep in the swamp, an island surrounded by bayou where a few of the herbs she used quite a bit grew in great abundance. The day was already hot and the swamp steaming, big bugs flying by and the ripples of snakes and gators swimming in the water next to the boats. A couple of the bigger gators bumped by the bottoms of the canoes, as if trying to decide if this might be worthwhile prey.

Ah, home.

Where she was going was about four miles away, and about a quarter of the way there she began to feel something not quite right about her surroundings, a feeling of eyes watching, and judging. A little farther on, the people with her began to feel it too, children falling even more silent than they had been, adults either making signs against evil or crossing themselves, depending on their religious leanings. The woman directly behind Odile in her canoe murmured "Papa Jesus, protect us." There were no birds singing, no insects buzzing, the whole swamp far more silent than usual. There were only the sounds of humans praying, and the slap and gurgle of water against the boats.

There were more murmurs, more prayers to Legba and Sobo and the Erzulies Frieda and Dantor, to Maman Brigitte, to Ghede. The feeling of being watched intensified as they came on a new channel cut in the swamp, carved it seemed by the waters of the rains of the other night. It looked like a bank had broken down and a channel on the other side had joined this one. It happened often enough, but something was very wrong here.

Odile made the decision to move these people, get them to safety, and come back later. The feeling of being watched faded about a half-mile on, after a long uncomfortable time of feeling like eyes were boring into the back of Odile's head.

They made it to the island without any other strangeness, and Odile spent an hour helping folks get set up. After they were good and settled, Odile took one of the canoes and paddled back, alone.

The feeling of being watched set up again in about the same place it had left off, and intensified as Odile reached the new channel. She lingered outside the mouth of it for a bit, thinking that whatever had decided to set up shop here might come out, but she had no such luck. She could see that the new channel went back a ways, and cautiously she turned her boat up the channel, paddling forward.

A half mile or so on, she caught through the trees a glimpse of a white house, and her heartbeat quickened. Could it be the house she'd seen in the vision, the one that had Nicole in it? What a big house was doing out here was anyone's guess, but Odile paddled forward to get a better look.

Ahead of her, something about the size of an old bull gator splashed into the water, and Odile looked up to see someone sitting on the bank, back to her. Underneath the canoe, there was a gentle bump, and then another. Her paddle, too, was hitting things, roundish forms barely visible in the murky water.

Bodies, she thought, and saw floating hair, the outline of a hand revealed by an errant eddy. The person sitting on the bank was a man, blue-black skin seeming to drink in the filtered sunlight under the cypresses and moss, unmoving.

In Creole, Odile called, "Hello, neighbor. Fine day out, no?"

The man moved, turned slowly. His mouth worked, and Odile could see that his eyes were blind white. Dead man, still alive. Odile snatched a powerful charm against dark magic from her belt, muttering the activation charm. "I see you. Who are you?"

The voice was slurred, the lips and tongue mush with decay. "Guardian to Kalfu."

Creations like this usually had a limited set of instructions; Odile tested them by saying, "What are your orders?"

"Watch. Defend."

"Against who?"

"Any. All."

She took a sharp breath. "Are there any others?"

In response, the surface of the water surrounding her boat swirled, hundreds of hands emerging from the water. Wrinkled, decayed, the hands shedding flesh and skin, grasping. "Yes," the one on the bank said, somewhat unnecessarily.

Odile looked around her, her jaw tight, "You will let me pass." The hands would not be able to touch her, but she did not know how long the charm would last between all of them. She was by herself, and without the tools she would need to get through. She began to paddle backward.

Behind her, hands submerged, but those in front and to the side remained up, threatening. The hands underwater bumped and brushed against the boat, and the white-eyed one stared at her blankly until she lost sight of him, around a bend in the channel.

She was sweating as she made the larger channel and paddled her way back to her house, pulling the canoe well ashore and storing the paddles inside of it. She took care of the animals, noting to herself that she should ask Gabriel if they could be housed with the others on the plantation for a bit, and then went into the house to gather up some protection charms and supplies to make more if need be. Then she secured her little house and walked up to the plantation.

It had been a few hours, and people were already at work for the day. She found Benjamin and Gabriel deep in discussion with some of the workers, a woman and a man, evidently going over priorities for roofs that had sprung leaks during the rainstorm a few days ago. She waved at them and they finished up what they was doing, coming over to her. "I have quite the story to tell you two," she said quietly. "Something interesting in the swamp."

She sat down with them under one of the trees, and gave them the story from beginning to end, leaving nothing out. "It's a good thing you are a mambo," Gabriel said. "Otherwise you would be one of the hands in the swamp."

She nodded, knowing it to be the truth. "Very likely. Now I know what to look out for, though, and I know where the girl is."

"How do you get her out?"

"Make things to hold the defenses of the place at bay, and give me enough time to untangle the defenses around her. If my vision's accurate, she has layer and layers of bokar protections on her and the room she's in. It's going to take some time to counteract them all."

"When do you want to try it?" Gabriel asked.

Odile thought about it, letting go a long sigh. "Soon. But we'd better find the other Kalfu mounts first."

Gabriel made a wry face. "If we get Nicole, he is going to throw everything he can muster to get her back."

"She's likely safe enough for the moment, though I don't know what work they've put on her and what it's doing to her." And the poor thing is alone, eight months gone with child, tied to a bed and probably scared out of her mind, she thought, but didn't say it aloud. "We don't know entirely who his mounts are, other than Antoinette. I suspect Laurent and Durand, and probably one of the doctors in New Orleans, but that still leaves one we have no idea about."

"She has to give birth, so I don't think it's going to hurt her. It may hurt the child, but I think that's the price we may pay. We can find Laurent easily enough." Gabriel shook his head, the flicked an errant ant off of his shirt cuff. "Durand, I don't know. Remember that someone said Durand was after Antoinette for some reason, which is why she left in the first place."

"Yes, but who knows if that was true or not?" she said. "Remember the crucified people, trying to get Petit's attention. I'd bet that was Durand's doing."

"Which worked, unfortunately," he said.

She let out a breath. "Got most of the Petits killed, that's for sure."

"And nearly one of us," he replied. "Ines, by the way, didn't come down for breakfast but Elisabeth said she was better."

Genuinely pleased by the news, Odile smiled. "Good. She'll take some time to heal up, just like a physical wound."

"She will," Gabriel said. He glanced at Benjamin, who this morning was more still than he was usually, his mind evidently still mostly with his daughter. "We still have to get Clare to the police, and report Maiden Fair."

"Suppose we could take her into New Orleans late this afternoon," she said. "Have a look at Laurent at the same time."

Gabriel gave her a curious look. "And you talked about a feather? Do you still have it, or did it turn to dust?"

She blinked. "You know, I clean forgot about it. I put it in my bag." She rummaged for it, coming up with it in short order. "Here. It was a real feather, sort of a brown color, when I found it on my doorstep."

He took the feather from her, turning it over in his hands. "And now its stone. Is it part of the angel?"

"I think it was, yes. Might still be. That's the only reason I can think of for it to have worked. I'm betting that if we went to look at the statue, it would be missing a feather from one of its wings." She shook her head. "Noemi must have stopped by my house and dropped it off when the angel was heading back to the crossroads."

"I hate to follow that logic, but does that mean the angel can turn to flesh?"

"You ever seen stone move like the angel does? Probably." Odile thought about it, than muttered a curse in Creole under her breath, a phrase that had gotten her mouth washed out with soap a few times when she was a child. "It probably couldn't always do that. We knew the beast is getting stronger."

Gabriel was looking like he liked this less and less. "So it turns to flesh, but what's the purpose?"

"A body. What does flesh do that stone cannot? This is Kalfu, and he is currently wearing the bodies of six people, and those bodies are going to wear out." She swallowed, following the terrible logic. "I think Kalfu is making a body that can hold him. And if you lose control of the beast, the rest of Kalfu will probably come into the angel, leaving the human bodies behind."

"Leaving us with an angel that is nearly impervious, able to change to flesh and looking like a Christian angel."

Odile may have never stepped foot inside a Christian church in her life, but she knew as well as anyone the power of the images she'd seen. "And wielding as much power as Kalfu can muster. He'll have an army of followers in no time."

"And all the white people following a true angel walking the world. So they think." Gabriel had a sour look on his face.

She sat back, putting her back against the trunk of the tree she was sitting against, letting out a long breath. "I'm thinking I don't like this plan of Kalfu's much."

"I don't think I like it either, and he chose the people that he chose for positions of power to start the following. The mayor will make a lot of followers behind him as well as the police chief. Who is now dead."

"Doesn't the mayor get to pick the new police chief?" Odile asked, a little fuzzy on how politics worked in New Orleans. "It'll be someone Kalfu likes."

Gabriel nodded. "Or it will be another part of Kalfu, depending on who is left out there. How long does it take to do a ritual to make another part of himself inhabit a body?"

"Sounds like the first one was accomplished in a matter of a night. Should take about that long, a little less, especially if he does it like he did the first time--having sex with whoever he wants to take. I don't think he has another piece of himself to put into someone else, though. We kicked the piece we got far enough beyond the crossroads that it'll take him a year to get back--but I don't know if we'll be able to do that next time, if we just kill the body." She shook her head. "Still too many things for us to do. Not near enough time."

"So we kill them, and he keeps making them. Can we stop him from making more?"

"Only if we could somehow force whatever pieces of Kalfu leave to go beyond the crossroads and stay there. We need Ghede for that, unless we can somehow get someone else to stand in for him...oh, I really don't like where this is leading me," she said, pondering it and thinking that she maybe knew just the person. "Remy. He's Ghede's favorite. He might be able to do some things to fill in at the crossroads--but he's a human, and doing so might kill him and definitely would not be pleasant."

Gabriel nodded, looking like he was thinking hard. "If we can get Remy to control the gate, we can stop Kalfu. But what will Remy want?"

Odile spread her hands. "If we're lucky, just money and lots of it. If not, well, he may want Nicole. I don't think I really want to give her to him, but at least he'll have a reason to treat the child well, if not Nicole."

"Is that a price too high to pay?" Gabriel asked.

She had started this wanting to protect the child Nicole carried from Remy. But if she wanted him to hold the crossroads... "Depends. If Remy wants to return Ghede to his place and wants the child to raise as his own, I can live with that. If he wants to keep Ghede around as a human, well, I'm going to have to argue with that one."

"We need to go to New Orleans sometime soon," Gabriel said. "Think you can find him again?"

She nodded. "Pretty sure, unless he's decided to start hiding between then and now."

"So unless he is compromised by Kalfu, we need him."

It was a sad and fractious truth. "We do. I don't think he's compromised, though I can't be sure. He's a favorite of Ghede. While Kalfu might enjoy the irony of taking him, he'd probably find it difficult."

"Probably. So, change of plans for today?"

"I think so. Go to town, find Remy, find Laurent and see what we can see?" She glanced at Benjamin, who nodded in response.

Gabriel said, "Take Clare and report Maiden Fair as plagued."

"Get her sent off to her grandmother," Odile said. "Well, all told that's probably an afternoon and an evening, right there."

"It is. Dinner in New Orleans? My treat." He paused briefly and then raised an eyebrow. "And can I get you some new boots? Those have to be older than me."

Startled, she looked down at her boots. They were well-worn men's boots, only a little too big for her, with holes in the heels and the toes, though she'd had them re-soled some time back so the bottoms weren't yet all the way worn through again. She stretched out one foot and wiggled her toes, visible through the holes in the leather. "They aren't nearly worn out yet. Holes are small, still." She glanced up at Gabriel and smiled. "But if you insist."

He smiled back. "Take a look around. Yours are the only shoes with holes in them. So I insist."

It was true, she thought, thinking about it. Everyone on the plantation was well-clothed and well-shod, many in clothing a little closer to the clothing the whites wore for comfort. She nodded, looking down at her trusty boots, which seemed suddenly just a little bit sad. It might be nice to have boots that didn't gather mud and small rocks inside of them. "Oh, I was going to ask, can I either bring my animals onto the plantation, or borrow someone to look after my place for a bit? I'm not around nearly enough to look after them at the moment."

"We can drive them up here, a few more won't hurt," he said, and she thought he sounded a little pleased.

"Thanks. And I won't fuss too much about the boots, I promise." She looked up at him with a smile. "Someone picked these up for me secondhand a few years ago. I've gotten a lot of wear out of them."

"Good. Need to go to your house and get a few things? And then to New Orleans?"

"I do, and that sounds like a plan to me," she said, standing up and brushing herself off.

Benjamin got a few people and came with her to help drive the animals to the plantation. He made marks in a book for every animal as it was let into its respective enclosure--the chickens into the coops, the goats into a pen with the others, the mule into a pasture with horses and other mules. She wanted to ask what the marks were for--she would remember every animal, and she thought that Benjamin would trust her if she said one was hers--but got distracted by the immediate ill-behavior of her mule (who immediately challenged the lead mare for control of the herd and was firmly rebuffed), and forgot.

Afterwards, the team was harnessed, and Gabriel helped her into the brougham once more. Maryse had packed a lunch for all of them, and that was loaded into the brougham as well. Clare demanded to ride up top with Benjamin, and there was no reason not to give her that, so she was up next to him.

Inside the carriage, Odile sat next to Gabriel, listening to him read more of the story he'd started, strange highfalutin language and all. He had an arm around her and she leaned into him, both of them touching as much as turning pages would allow. The memory of last night lingered in her mind, and she figured from the way he was acting that Gabriel would not mind a repeat whenever they next had some privacy behind walls. She was looking forward to it, herself.

The ride took an hour, and they ate on the way, Benjamin and Clare sharing their lunches up top and Gabriel and Odile inside. When they reached New Orleans, Benjamin drove farther into town than usual, pulling up right outside the main police station near the Old Square. He stayed with the horses while Gabriel took Clare, dressed in a too-large dress that had been dug up from boxes of Ines and Isabelle's old clothing, into the station. Odile followed behind, staying close enough to make it clear she was with Gabriel, far enough behind that people would think she was a servant, or a mistress.

When Gabriel asked for Jean Bertrand, he was told that the police chief had died of a heart attack recently, but the lieutenant would take charge of the case. He turned Clare over to the man, explaining that yellow fever had struck the Petit place and that he'd had his people burn the bodies and buildings, as was the common practice. The lieutenant seemed to take him at his word, writing in a book and taking the details about Clare's grandmother that had been gleaned from several comments Clare had made.

"That's only going to work once, I fear," Gabriel said after they were safely inside the brougham once more, having left Clare in the care of the lieutenant. Benjamin was driving towards a hostler who would take the horse and team, leaving them on foot for the rest of the day.

"Probably. If something happens to the other plantations, not sure what we're going to tell the police." Odile was looking out the window, at a procession of carriages going the other way. All painted black. Plague carriages, to carry the dying and the dead to the burial grounds outside of town.

Gabriel followed her gaze, watched the carriages roll by without comment. "It will look suspicious."

"Though to be honest, they might not care all that much. Trouble here in town." She sat back, resettled her skirts. "Remind me to find out where they're dropping the bodies off at, there's something I'm looking for."

"What, do I dare ask?"

Odile grinned at him. "I promised Maman a new vessel, a fresher and prettier one. I'd like to see if I can borrow the body of someone who's not using theirs anymore."

"The whole body this time?"

"She might appreciate the whole body, and if I just need the head I could feed the rest to the gators." She glanced out the window again. "Otherwise, someone might notice a headless body among the plague victims."

Gabriel chuckled dryly. "Ya, I think they might."

"If anyone asks, I can tell them I knew whoever it was and am taking her away for burial," she said, as if she stole the bodies of plague victims every day of the week. No need for Gabriel to know that she'd never done any such thing before, after all.

"We can get one later, much later. After dinner, yes?" he asked, hopefully.

"Right before we leave, I think."

"Good." The brougham came to a stop, and Benjamin called down, "We're here." The hostler's boy was already preparing to take the horses as they climbed down out of the carriage. A quick discussion later and they were off to a part of the city that had a number of shops that sold clothing, and spent several hours looking for the shoes that Gabriel wanted to buy her.

It was a little difficult, especially since Gabriel was impatient and didn't want to wait for boots to be made, and Odile was a bit alarmed by the liberties that the shopkeepers were taking with her feet, seizing them and turning them this way and that. In the end, though, there were a sturdy pair of boots without holes in them for her feet, as well as a pair of sandals that seemed overly complicated but reasonably comfortable once they were on. They didn't seem too practical for someone who lived in a swamp, but Odile had gotten tired of arguing that she didn't need them and let him buy them for her.

Afterwards, they went to find Remy, using the poppet to point the way to him. Turned out he was scaring the white people in Congo Square, face painted and top had shading half his face, playing his flute for a copperhead snake that Odile could see was defanged. She stopped in front of Remy, Benjamin and Gabriel at her shoulders. "Nice pet," she remarked, suppressing a shudder.

Remy gave a little trill with his flute and took the instrument away from his lips. He was half-sitting, half-squatting on a rough wooden box that looked like it had been through the wars. "Thanks, the ever watchful Odile. What can I be doing for you this fine day?"

"Have a proposition of sorts for you," she said, and with her eyes warned him that this flirting with her right now would be a bad idea. Odile knew about Remy's quirks. Gabriel did not, and he was unlikely to find them amusing. "There are too many ears here, though."

"Ah, I have had my fun for the day. So let's be off," he said, standing and collecting snake and flute. They wandered out of Congo square and towards one of the quiet places nearby, under a large willow tree. As they went, they garnered curious looks, people wondering what on earth such a motley crew could be doing walking together.

The day was bright and hot, and even the spotty shade of the willow came as a relief. Odile, before she sat down, adjusted her headwrap, sure it was slipping in the heat. After she settled herself, she took a breath and began. "So, we have a problem. We're working on getting the bits of Kalfu out of those he's in, but without Ghede at the crossroads, Kalfu will just retrieve the pieces of himself and put them in new people. You being a favorite of Ghede, well, I thought you might be able to help."

"You want me to block the door?" Remy asked, raising an eyebrow.

Odile inclined her head. "Hold the crossroads, so that at least Kalfu can't come over to this side once he's been pushed over."

Remy thought about it for a moment, then said, "I can hold it for you. But what are you offering?"

Her eyes went hooded, and she sat back. "Depends on what you'd want, really. There's always money. Or information."

Remy's chuckle was rich and deep, and he wagged a finger at her, chiding. "No, no. You know my price. Are you willing to pay?"

"Depends. What are your intentions towards Nicole and the child?" she asked, suspicious.

"Now now, that's my business," he said. "But I won't harm them in the slightest, if that makes your decision easier."

"I don't like it. But it has to be better than Leroy, or those who have her now. I'll bring her to you, as long as you swear on your soul not to harm either of them." She looked at him sharply. "I'll be keeping an ear out to make sure you keep your word."

"You have my word, Odile," he said, and for the first time in her long acquaintance with Remy, she thought he was absolutely serious. There was no smile lurking around his mouth or at the corners of his eyes. "The word of a great Mambo from one to the other. I will hold the door for month starting today. No more. I don't think I can do any more than that and still live."

It was more than she had thought she was going to get from him. "Then we know how much time we have to get all of Kalfu beyond the crossroads. I'll bring Nicole to you when I can. The protections on her are very strong and dangerous."

"Ah yes. And hard to find. The path you take in changes."

Unsure what he meant by that, she eyed him. "It moves?"

"Less the path, more the destination." He shook his head. "I have seen the mansion once or twice but I know it travels a cemetery as well. I think there is at least one more destination. But it's never the same destination twice." He grimaced briefly. "Kalfu teases."

"He does like to do that, I notice," she said dryly.

Remy grinned briefly. "So be prepared to face anything when you go."

"So if you've gotten in so far as to see it a couple of times, what stopped you from getting all the way in?" Odile asked, genuinely curious.

"Ah, I may be good, and Ghede's favorite, but protection. Ah, we all have our weakness. You, it seems..." Remy's eyes lingered for a moment on Gabriel. "Green eyes and blond hair."

Odile's voice went hard and sharp-edged. "Ah, but you do know a weakness can also be a strength, looked at the right away." She put into those words a warning not to push his luck.

"That be a sore subject," he said with an evaluating look. "One month, I will hold, less if you can. And Nicole here, one month from today. We have a deal?"

She nodded. "We have a deal."

"Good." He raised his flute to his mouth and began to play, and an image formed in front of him, whirling in the dust. It was a little girl, maybe seven years old, dressed in a pretty skirt. She looked much like Odile had at that age, smoky skin and a cloud of curly black hair, but as the girl stopped her whirling and looked up, seemingly directly at Odile, she could see that the girl had bright green eyes.

Odile gave Remy a hard look, got up, and walked away. Gabriel and Benjamin followed, and they plunged into the crowds of New Orleans. "He's about as odd as you get," Gabriel commented.

She didn't have to ask who he meant. "You'll probably meet Ghede one of these days. Ghede's even stranger."

"Will he keep his end of the deal?"

"He will, I believe," she said, thinking of that serious look he'd gotten. "I can check up on him and make sure he is, and he knows it."

"Good," he said, almost in her ear. They'd gotten pushed together in the crowd, and for a moment all Odile was aware of was of the two of their bodies pressed together. "Now, Laurent?" he asked, after the crowed let up and they slipped through the crush.

"Yes, let's go see if you can find him," she said.

City Hall was the place, and Jacquot Laurent was there, being what, to all accounts, was his usual self. He might have been handsome a few decades ago, but he was about Leroy's age, short, a bit round, and doing the unattractive thing of combing over a little bit of hair over a bald spot that took up most of his head. Odile had heard rumors about him, but Gabriel and Benjamin knew more, and they told her that Laurent had a habit of acting actively hateful to the slaves around him, and tended to buy votes from the whites.

It was hard to imagine that Kalfu would have changed this man very much. He wasn't sweating, though, and that in the end decided Odile. When she told Gabriel and Benjamin this, a ways away from City Hall, they agreed. "He has a slave, doesn't he, who shares his bed?" Odile asked.

Benjamin nodded. "Yes, sure does."

"Think she knows anything or can point out a weak spot? Mayor shows up shot, there's going to be a fuss."

He gave her a half-smile. "I am sure she does. She cleans the place and shares the bed. She would know all of his troubles."

Odile thought about it. "Wonder if she can be persuaded to gossip. Might be worth a try."

"She has to shop and she would go the white market for food," he said, considering.

"I can probably find her and talk to her, if I have an idea what she looks like," she said, "Neither of you should be seen nearby."

Gabriel shook his head. "Me especially. She isn't going to trust my color one bit, with Laurent. I know Laurent a bit. we all have to. She will be young and very pretty."

"Might be able to find her, then," she said thoughtfully. "Benjamin, you might be able to talk to her as well, but you can be a bit intimidating."

The big man gave her a wry smile. "I think I will stay with Gabriel. Young and pretty and me talking to them. Doesn't make for a good time with Elisabeth."

Odile raised an eyebrow. "She is a bit on the jealous side, isn't she? I'm still amazed that she's fine with you coming out to ritual."

"That's religion. And Sobo isn't the sexual type, much." He cracked a grin. "Now Legba that would be a different story with Erzulie. So she understands about Sobo, but if Legba was my patron... Well, I think she would be taking up the priestesshood very quickly."

She chuckled, understanding. "I'm sure she would. So, let's go see if we can find this girl."

"I know where he lives, we can just watch for her," Gabriel said.

They found the house, a large place painted white, and loitered long enough to see a girl come out the front door, carrying a basket, dressed all in white. Her hat was pulled low, trying to hide the bad split lip that was the legacy of a recent beating. The way she was walking, too, said that she maybe had something wrong with her private parts. Otherwise she was very pretty, the darkness of her skin glowing in contrast to the bleached white of her clothing, white dress, gloves, hat, shoes. A pretty picture, Maman would have said, and the problem with pretty pictures is all too often they were ugly underneath.

She left Gabriel and Benjamin, arranging a place to meet later, and followed the girl to the white market nearby. She was trying to hurry, but her steps were slow, and Odile slipped into line in back of her at the butcher's. "Is this the best butcher here, do you think?" she asked the girl, conversationally.

The girl turned, eyes at first wary and then relaxing a bit. "He is and he knows it, so he charges for it. But my master can afford it."

Odile nodded, her eyes drawn to the cut in the girl's lip. "Ah, that's a nasty cut on your lip, there. Would you like something for it?"

She blinked, and then a desperate hope flared on her face. "Know something about healing?"

"Quite a bit, I'm a mambo. I specialize in healing and protection."

Still that hope. "Please and do you have more you can spare for--other cuts?"

Odile wagered she knew exactly what sorts of cuts she had. "I do. There should be somewhere around here I can take a look at you."

"I only have a little bit of time before he expects me back. So, if we can hurry." Odile nodded, and the girl said, "Natalie by the way. Nat, mostly."

"Odile," she said. "There's a place nearby, let's go have a look."

There was an alley nearby where nobody might look for a little bit. Odile looked at the cut on the girl's lip and some bruises on her arms--finger marks. The worst was her nethers, and if Odile hadn't treated Ines recently this would have been the worst she'd seen in some time. The girl was torn almost as if she'd given birth, and there were other cuts and general bruising and swelling. Odile did a quick job of stitching what needed to be stitched, and brought out a general wound-healing salve for the rest, muttering a chant for healing as she applied it.

"Want to tell me what happened?" she asked after she was done with her chant, starting in on stitching a few more cuts that had caught her eye.

"He has always been a bit rough before, but he has never hit me until last week," she said.

Odile tied off a knot and eased the girl's skirt back down, moving to work on her lip. "He just lose his temper, or was there something making him mad?"

"No, it was all normal and then he got rough and hit me. Tied me down and starting finding things to put in me. I was screaming but he wouldn't stop." Nat was tearing up, and impulsively Odile reached out and put her hands on the girl's shoulders.

"It's all right, sweetie," she said, trying to be reassuring even though it really wasn't all right. It was never all right. "He finally let you up, then?"

"Yes, finally," she said, and wiped her eyes. "And then he was back to normal, like nothing ever happened."

"Did he even seem to remember he'd done anything?"

Nat swallowed. "No, he seemed shocked when I was bleeding down there. Told me to clean it up and don't talk about it again. That was three days ago. He has ignored me since."

Three days ago, when Bertrand had died. Kalfu had gone into quite the rage, then. "And he's never done anything like this before?"

"Never, like I said he's been rough, but then he buys me things. Mostly white things."

"I see, from your clothes," she said, trying to draw the girl out a bit more. "He likes you in white, then."

"Always has." The girl's shoulders slumped. "Virginal quality, he says, whites have."

At that moment, Odile hated Laurent, everything about him, him and the white men and women like him who thought they could do anything and get away with it. All too often, they were right. After all, he'd gotten away with raping Maman and Grandmere, three decades ago. She paused a moment, breathed through the rage. "Some men like that, it seems. Close your eyes, I'm going to do a chant and give you some charms that will speed up your healing some."

"Thank you," Nat said, and she obeyed. Odile gave her a general healing chant and then pressed a pair of charms into her hand. One was for fast healing. The other, though she didn't tell Nat this, was a see-me-not that would take Laurent's eyes off of her for a little bit.

"You don't have access to anyone who does healing at all?" Odile asked her, after the chant. "A midwife, a herb man?"

Nat shook her head. "No, I very rarely talk to anyone that isn't white. And he won't let me see the white doctor, either."

Of course not. This poor girl. "Which doctor does he go to?" she asked, out of curiosity.

"Gerard Bonnete," Nat said.

"Keep the charms on you, but hidden," she said, now that she knew there was nobody else who would be taking care of the girl. "Keep the wounds as clean as you can, and if you can keep your master off of you, do. Your master doesn't sound like he's quite in his right mind, at the moment."

"Never was," she said, her tone sharp. "I would like to get away, but it's not going to be my lot."

"Why not? People do. With help," Odile said.

"He buys us, uses us and when the looks fade, gives us to plantation owner Leroy. Which is a death sentence, just a slow one."

Odile cocked her head. Nat had not yet said who her master was, and she wanted the girl to tell her herself instead of asking after it. "Your master's a friend of Leroy, then? That's a bad one, right there. People do escape from there, though. One of the neighbors occasionally buys slaves that make it to his place."

"He is. Old friends. They meet for bourbon once a week usually. Not last week, but normally. I have heard of that one. Mister Rousseau?"

It seemed like a dog's age since Gabriel had been Mister Rousseau to her. Only a few days, but they were stretching into years. "Yes. For a white man, he's not half bad. He treats people like people, seems like. Anyway, if you get sent out to Leroy's, try to make it to Barataria. What was going on last week that you master missed drinks with Leroy? Though, I did hear that Leroy got laid up recently." She almost smiled at the memory.

"I don't think it will make it that far. I don't think I will live that long." The girl took a breath, fisting her small hand in that white glove. "Master Laurent sent a note that cancelled the meeting with Mister Leroy. He said he probably would be not making any this month. Mayor stuff."

"That's strange," she commented. "Well, I don't live in town, so I don't know anything about what's going on here. Things really getting busy?"

"He has a lot of meetings. But nothing all that strange, just his behavior."

Odile nodded. "Well, you should probably be getting home before you're missed. Feeling a bit better?"

"I am," she said, and the gratitude was unmistakable in her voice. "Thank you, Miss Odile. I hope I will see you again."

"Maybe you will, little one," she told Nat. "Off you go now."

Nat thanked her once more and then slipped out of the alley, mincing and trying to keep her shoes and dress as free of mud as she could. Odile waited a few minutes after she was gone, and then walked out and headed towards the meeting place.

Benjamin and Gabriel were sitting on a bench in a small park outside the Vieux Carre. Odile dropped down beside Gabriel with a thump. "That poor girl. I found out the answer to what Kalfu did when we threw a piece of him out of the world. The piece in Laurent turned savage on her. Tore her up but good."

"Now what, do you think?" Gabriel asked.

"Well, I'd like to put a bullet in his head," she said in a low voice. "Aside from that, I have an excuse to get into the household now. If I wanted to set a trap for Laurent, I could."

"Do we get her to let you in or do we have her kill him? Would she?"

"I don't think I'd trust her nerve, though she really believes she's not going to live much longer, so maybe. I brought some charms for defeating possessions, and with your help I can probably charge them enough to shove Kalfu out of his body. " She took a breath, thinking about it. "Hide them in his sheets, wait for him to go to bed, and get Nat to pick up the charms afterwards. The easy way would be to talk her into shooting him, and somehow get her away."

"That going to work, do you think?" Gabriel asked. "Shooting is easier, but it leaves a murder to be investigated. We can get her away, that's easy enough. Into the swamp with the others and smuggle her out later."

"The problem would be if people start asking questions and if anyone remembers me talking to her earlier," Odile said. "The charms might work, might not, and even if they don't Kalfu will know that we're trying for Laurent." She paused, then admitted, "I have a personal score to settle with the man, but I'm trying to leave that out of this."

"What's the personal score?" Gabriel asked her.

Odile found that her hands were fisted in the fabric of her skirt, and forced them to relax. "The night I was conceived, a bunch of white men visited Maman and Grandmere. He and Leroy were among them. They thought Maman and Grandmere were witching the cattle. I'll let you imagine the rest."

"It's lucky they survived," he said.

She nodded. "Don't know what happened, or how. I do know that Maman ran out of time before she died to get Leroy and Laurent, but the rest are dead."

Reluctantly, Gabriel asked, "One of them your father?"

She nodded, staring down at the ground, her eyes looking for patterns in the stone that the bench was on. "Leroy. So Grandmere claimed."

"I am so sorry, Odile." His voice was sympathetic but cautious, as if he wasn't sure what to do right now. "Don't think she knows for sure?"

Still looking at the ground, she said, "I honestly didn't ask her how she knew which of them was my father. I don't look a lot like either of them. But she seemed sure." She finally looked back up at Gabriel, and realized with a shock that she had been expecting him to look at her with disdain on his face, or disgust. She saw neither. "So, I have a personal score to settle, but it's not like Laurent the man is really alive any more."

"No, he isn't," he said. "Benjamin is a very good shot with a rifle, but that will likely get him killed. I could do it more close range, that buys us a trial at least. The girl has the best opportunity. What is her name, by the way?"

"Natalie, Nat for short," she said. "There might be evidence of what happened to her around, she said he, ah, used objects on her while he was raping her."

"I feel for the girl. But that won't make a bit of difference to a lynch mob. They will only see a black killing her master."

"No, it won't. But maybe we could get her out," she said, thinking. "Find a dead girl, dress her in the girl's clothes. As long as she's about the right age and the same sort of pretty, well, does anyone really look at slaves?"

Gabriel thought about it, and nodded. "That's true, most white men don't. I know all my workers by name, but I am probably the minority."

"There's a lot of victims of yellow fever around, and if we do a few things to the dead girl's face, make it look like she was beaten...we just need an excuse for her to turn up dead. Make it look like she killed herself, maybe."

"The morgue has to be full up by now with yellow fever victims."

Odile smiled grimly. "They're probably starting to stack them somewhere. I needed a new body for Maman anyway. We could pick up a couple."

"We can." He made a face. "Is vodoun always so...gruesome sometimes? Or is Kalfu just the main one?"

Gruesome? She supposed it would be. "To tell you the truth, I haven't had to work with bodies for years. Kalfu gets involved, it seems, and things get messy." She gave him a slight smile. "The most gruesome I generally get is sacrificing animals."

"So it seems. Ah, good. I am looking forward to the more pleasant rituals," he said in a tone that Odile thought privately might have been a shade more relieved than he'd meant to show. "I have a small gun that we can give to Natalie."

"Good. We should go find the bodies first, then I can go talk to her," Odile said, and they did exactly that. The bodies were indeed being stacked in preparation for mass burial, and the three of them joined several others who were looking for people they knew, to give them a burial in a proper grave if one could be found. They retrieved two bodies, one that Odile thought her Maman would approve of, one that looked a lot like Natalie. That unpleasant chore done with, they washed up and went to find dinner in Congo Square. After dinner, Odile would go talk to Nat, and see what happened from there.

The dinner was quite pleasant, the sun going down and the cool of evening coming over New Orleans, little breezes chasing each other around the buildings and streets. They kept conversation over dinner light, not discussing murder or rituals or the confession Odile had made earlier. Afterwards, Odile walked alone to the mayor's big white house, walking around the building to the back door. The gun she'd tucked under her shirt, in the waist of her skirt, and as she walked it was a heavy weight on her. She knew and liked rifles. These little revolvers, not as much.

She paused on the porch and listened. Sounded like one person alone in the kitchen, likely Nat. She scratched at the back door as if she were a cat wanting in, and waited.

Nat opened it, still dressed in white, only without the hat and gloves. The girl dried her hands on her apron. "I didn't expect to see you so quick," she said, her voice low.

"I have a favor to ask. Do you have a minute?"

The girl nodded. "Sure, talk quiet. He is here but liquored up good."

Good news, all around. "Not sure how much you know about vodoun, or how much you believe. But that man in the house isn't himself. He's been possessed. I've come to ask if you're willing to help me stop it." She paused, evaluating the girl who stood in the doorway, who had put one hand on the doorframe to support herself. "It's going to take some nerve, and some faith."

There was that awful hope again, burning bright in Natalie's eyes, as if she had been taken by a sudden fever. "Anything to stop the hitting and the pain."

"Can you shoot a gun?" Odile asked.

"Not well. But if I am close enough..."

All she really needed was to know how to pull the trigger, and have the nerve to do so. "You'll need to be pretty close. What I want to do is to set it up like you shot him to defend yourself. I've found a body that looks a fair bit like you--yellow fever victim--and if we dress her in your clothes and make it look like she hanged herself, it'll look like you beat the lynch mob to it. Then I can get you out of the city."

"That's risky. Are you sure?" Nat asked.

Odile nodded. "It's the best plan I can think of. This one, if it goes well, ends up with him dead and you alive, and free."

"Him dead is the best I have heard," she said. "I will do it."

"I'll be back in a bit, then. Do you have any clothes that aren't white?" she asked, hoping that she did, else she'd have to find some for her beforehand.

"I do, stashed in a safe place." Her eyes were still feverishly bright. "Do you have the gun now?"

Odile frowned. "I do, do you need it? The body's what still needs to be fetched."

Nat nodded vigorously. She could barely be more than sixteen, if that. "I would feel safer," she said, hopeful.

"All right." Odile lifted her shirt to pull out the gun, and handed it to Natalie. "Keep this hidden, and don't use it unless you really have to. I can take you to a new life, but to do that I need to be able to throw the mob off the scent."

"I understand," she said.

"I'll be back in about an hour," she told the girl.

Nat nodded, and then smiled, a little raggedly because of the cut in her lip. "Thank you, Odile, for releasing me."

"Thank me when it's all over, little one," she told her, and left the way she'd come, lighter one weapon and ready to go get the body, to finish this.

She hadn't gotten half a block when a sound from behind her made her heat skip a beat. The report of a gun.

No.

Second shot. Third. Fourth. Odile had turned around, her eyes wide. Fifth shot.

A long, heart-aching pause, and Odile could do nothing, could not move. No, Nat, don't, you can still get out of this--

The sixth shot rang out with the finality of a casket closing.

There was nothing Odile could do, and within moment there would be people out here asking questions and wanting to throw people in jail for the fun of it. Odile turned and lengthened her stride, heading back to Gabriel and Benjamin, her miscalculation much heavier than the gun had been. I can't believe I did that. I thought she wanted to be free. But freedom to someone who had been abused so might mean something different than it did to Odile.

She reached the place where Benjamin and Gabriel waited for her, drinking coffee from a nearby shop, watching the crowd go by. "How did it go?" Gabriel asked, the blinked worriedly as he saw Odile's face.

Odile rubbed her temples, and fought the urge to rub away the tears that seemed insistent on gathering in her eyes. "I made a mistake, and underestimated just how much Nat hated Laurent. I believe Laurent is dead. She probably is too."

Both of the men were staring at her now. Gabriel shocked, Benjamin less so, more understanding. "She killed him? And then killed herself?" Gabriel asked.

"I gave her the gun. Heard five shots, a pause, and then a sixth." She took a long, shuddering breath. "I had to leave, if I'd been found in the neighborhood I'd probably have been thrown in prison just on principle."

"Yes, you would. I am sorry, Odile." Gabriel glanced at his brother. "Benjamin, let's go."

"I forgot, for a minute. I forgot what a man like Laurent can do to a person," she said, wiping her eyes. "Still need the other body, but otherwise I think we're done in town for the day."

Gabriel didn't respond in words, only reached for her and pulled her into his arms, holding her tight. Odile froze, stiffened in his arms. There were people around, a happy nighttime crowd, and if anyone in a mood for a fight saw, they were both in big trouble. "Not here," she said urgently.

"Who cares?" he said, his voice a bit hurt.

Odile pulled away from him, and he let her go. "Everyone cares," she snapped. Words boiled up in her, anger bringing them to the surface, but she managed to stem the rising tide. "I'm sorry. It's not you I'm angry at."

"I know," he said, and his voice was low. "You are angry about them. About the differences in the ways we have to act and who we get to love. So am I."

"And the names they call us, and worse than names. In public, everyone has to be proper. In private, it's always another story." She took a long breath. "And though I'd really like you to hold me, right here is not safe."

"I know and it's wrong," he said, and there was more than a little heat in his voice. His shoulders were stiff, and he suddenly looked bigger than he was physically, a large shadow against shadows. "I know you care. But I don't care what they think anymore. Just tired of it." He paused, took a breath. "I am sorry," he said, and his voice now was more controlled. "I have always hated this part of society. I let my temper get to me."

She was a few feet from him, holding herself carefully still. "Me, too. I care because I have to care. We hold hands in the wrong place at the wrong time, and, well, you'll probably just get beaten. Me, I'd end my life on the string if I didn't manage to get away. I hate it too, more now than I did before. But it's just how life is."

"Listen to me," he said, his eyes intent. "Nothing and no one will ever harm you, while I still breathe."

"Then two lives would end instead of one," she said, matching him intensity for intensity, warning--you don't want to die for me, Gabriel.

Instead of backing off, he just nodded. "Then that is the way it will be. I don't want to lose you."

"Then let's try not to find ourselves on the wrong side of a lynch mob, all right?" She gave him a half-smile.

"I won't if you won't," he said, and a rattle and rumble announced that Benjamin had returned with the carriage. If Benjamin wondered why the two of them were standing staring at each other like they were about to either get into a fistfight or kiss passionately, he didn't ask. Gabriel opened the door of the brougham, and both of them climbed in. Once inside, Gabriel pulled the shades, and it was at that point that Odile held out her hand to him, asking him to hold her.

He did so all the way back to Barataria.

It wasn't much of a question whether she would be spending the night with Gabriel. Both of them had frayed tempers, and Odile found herself wanting to be close to him, to repair that. They were gentle with each other, and compared to the night before what they did in bed that night was relatively brief, and involved a lot more lying still and holding each other.

Afterwards, Gabriel slipped into sleep, and Odile found herself wakeful. After a while lying awake and watching the shadows move across the walls, she wriggled out of Gabriel's grasp and went across the hall, to Noemi's room. She curled up on the bed that had belonged to Gabriel's wife. Odile wondered what she had really been like, the girl Gabriel had married. She liked her spirit; would she have liked the woman herself when she'd been alive? She asked herself these and other questions, trying to block out the memory of five gunshots, a pause, and a sixth, trying to keep from imagining Nat creeping into a room where Laurent lay in a drunken stupor, emptying five rounds into him, and then putting the gun in her mouth and pulling the trigger.

Had it been quick? Had there been just a flash of pain, then nothing?

You were so close to getting away.

The door of the room creaked open, and Odile sat up. It was Gabriel, naked except for the cane he leaned on, and he stepped into the room and closed the door behind him. "You all right? Do you need to talk?" he asked.

She pulled her knees up. "I don't know what there is to talk about, really. I just couldn't sleep, and didn't want to keep you awake."

Gabriel came to sit on the edge of the bed, his cane thumping on the floor. His face was only half-visible; the moonlight coming through the window was filtered by the lace curtains on it, and the whole room was shadowy and dim. "It's all right to keep me awake when something is bothering you."

"I just can't stop thinking about Nat, is all," she admitted. "Losing someone I've treated is hard, always, but in this case I handed her her own death."

"You couldn't have known. She was scared. More scared of him than dying."

She swallowed painfully, her throat was so dry. "I should have known. I should have suspected, when she asked for the gun. And, well, her on top of everything else that's happening. We're in over our heads, both of us."

"It's been tough," he said. "But I still think, no matter what, we can handle it. We have, so far."

Odile made a face. "I hope so. I hope we don't end up trying to hold back the ocean."

"We will just build dykes then," he said, and chuckled.

She smiled a little, and rubbed tired eyes. "Well, I hope we can do it. I'd like to survive this, myself."

Gabriel nodded. "So would I. Have you thought much about the future?"

The future? Right now, she could hardly think past next week. She paused then, and realized she'd been thinking about one particular thing. "Other than meaning to ask you how you feel about children, not much, really. I suppose I assume I'll settle back into my life, afterwards."

"Children with you, as many as you want," he said promptly. "We can do anything we want. I just wanted to know what you want."

"Right now, I'd like to settle back into my little house, raise and train a daughter or two, keep up my practice. The people here need me," she said. "Why, did you have any thoughts on the matter?"

He took her hand, twining his fingers between hers. "I would like to stay here if we can. If we don't alienate the entire population of New Orleans," he added with a smile. "I was hoping that you would stay here in the house to raise daughters."

Here. In this house, with this man. Panic shortened her breath, and she fought for a moment with it, wrestling it down. "It's not like my house is very far away," she said. "I don't know about staying here. Can you imagine what people will think, when they find out one of the local mambos is living in your house?" And just what sort of children would you raise? Would you want to interfere in their education, make them learn to read, send them away to school like they were white?

"I suppose they will talk, I suppose they will gossip that you have some sort of voodoo spell on me." He tightened his grip on her hand a little. "I just don't want to imagine me in this house without you."

For some reason, that took her breath, ran off with it and hid it like a kitten with a sock. "Oh, they will, and worse," she said once she had her breath back. "And when people get to talking, they sometimes get together and try to fix whatever they think is wrong. Gabriel, we've known each other just over a week now. It's probably a little early for these sorts of thoughts."

"Maybe, but I like to plan for the future, and I want you in it. But we are both stubborn," he said.

This house, this man, all the problems he came with, all of it was overwhelming. But, she supposed, it would be easier to raise children with help, and she thought she could probably overrule Gabriel on their education if she needed to. She smiled, just a little. "That's for sure. Well, give me time. Might work my way around to liking the idea."

"That's my plan," he said, smiling back at her. "Do you want to be alone?"

"I think so. I have some thinking to do," she told him.

"All right." He let go of her hand and stood up, picking up his cane. "Good night, Odile."

"Good night, Gabriel," she said quietly, and he nodded and left as if he were afraid that if he didn't keep moving, he wouldn't be able to go. He closed the door behind him, and she could hear his footsteps and the thump of his cane going across the hall and into his own room.

Odile barely slept that night, between imagining the scene once Nat had gotten done, and the question that Gabriel had asked her. She liked him, and they were good in bed together. Problem was, you had to get out of bed sometime, and the things he wanted from her Odile wasn't sure she could give. What would she be betraying, to live in this house and eat at his table? She liked him, but she didn't know if she wanted to be with him.

And could she trust him to be discreet, to pretend in public like they were friends, no more? That night's little performance could have cost both of them their lives, no doubt about it. She had no intention of dying at a lynch mob's hands, but Gabriel wasn't used to having to be careful. He'd never had to worry that someone would decide that someone with his skin color was too dark to be a free person. He wasn't used to being careful where he kissed a woman he liked, who could see him hold hands with someone he was bedding. People would tolerate their relationship, but only if it were left behind the doors of the house. In the world, they couldn't be together. It was simply the way things were, and there was nothing to be done about it.

These thoughts and others troubled her until dawn came, birds bringing Odile out of the light doze she'd been in. She washed up and dressed, deciding that there had been too many delays. Today, with the help of the loa, she would begin the process of initiating Gabriel.

She just hoped that the loa would be kind, and that it would go smoothly...