Demon Day (27 page)

“
And how is it meant to be,
child?” The voice made me jump a mile, and I blushed, feeling heat
creep up my neck and spill into my cheeks.

My vampire snarled and he reached
forward to wrap his fingers tightly around my wrist.

“
Ah, well, I mean, it’s
just that I….” I was having serious difficulty stringing a
sentence together, intimidated by the person in front of
us.

The man in front of me was not young
nor was he particularly beautiful, but power radiated off him in
waves. His face was nut brown and his hair a shock of white,
eyebrows a slash of gray and his beard neatly shaved to cover his
chin and upper lip. He was dressed in a ratty black tunic and
tattered jeans. His feet were bare. He was old yet had a spritely
bearing. In one hand, he clutched what looked like a cane of human
bone, but I could not be sure.

“
I am a Houngan.” He shook
his open palms at the sky and the beaded bracelets on his wrists
clinked and jangled together. “I serve the Loa with both hands
girl. One must walk the path of light and dark to find balance. It
may feel wrong to you but that is because you hold strongly to the
light and see the dark as something wicked to defeat.” He looked at
Tomas. “Though I suspect you know something of darkness and its
attractions.”

My lips pressed together and I ignored
that loaded observation. “The Loa?” I asked. “You speak as if there
is more than one god of this name.”

He made a strange clicking sound, his
tongue hitting the roof of his mouth once that gave an impression
of annoyance. “Even the oldest beings forget the old ways. You
think in straight lines and disregard that many commune and serve
the Creator in their own way. The Loa are our link to the great
deity girl. All have sacred symbols and rituals that we follow.” He
pointed at me. “You fairies used to have one who was marked with
the symbols of all races and creeds. Does such a one no longer
exist?”

I thought of Breandan and his marks. I
had always wondered why he had so many and what they meant. He had
told me they helped him see the truth and were protection … from
witchcraft and black magics.

The Houngan focused on me then smiled
toothily. “But I see you claimed some of what was lost.” His eyes
were on my chest, but then he cocked his head, as if someone spoken
in his ear. “But you have misplaced it again … oh … it has been
taken?”

I touched my neck, missing the heavy
weight that was the amulets. “The amulets are mine now, yes. I know
where they are and I’ll get them back.”

“
And the grimoire is safe
with the High Lord?”

It could not have surprised me more if
he had sprouted wings. I sucked in a breath. “You know about the
grimoire?”

He leaned forward face kindly now. “Of
course. You fairies needed a way to keep it out of the witches’
hands. My ancestor and the Mambo of that time gave you the
solution, and gave it gladly. The Grand Bois – Loa of the forest –
helped us craft the key and fine work it was. The power of my
people is effective against witchcraft because we dabble in the
darkness they feed from and use it against them. Who you think make
the grimoire key? Fairy magics come from your connection to nature,
by drawing from the Source created by the gods in the name of the
Creator. You cannot hold that power indefinitely or store it
talismans. That is not how your power works.” He held a hand to his
chest where many chains and baubles hung. Some were pretty and
others looked simply odd. Animal feet and bones wound together with
twine and leather. “I use magic too, child, magic gifted to me by
the Loa. But unlike you I cannot hold it. I must transfer it to
objects or into spells. I am merely a conduit. That is how my power
works.” His head turned to Ro, and he held out his arms. “Boy, come
here and greet me.”

Ro broke out into a grin and slouched
forward. Skipping up the steps he slung his arms around the man and
thumped him on the back. “Hai, Papa Obe.”

The man hugged him back and smiled
broadly showing pink gums. “My boy, what you bring to me door,
eh?”

Ro stood back and looked the older man
in the face. “I need help.” He stopped and looked over his
shoulder. “And I need you to swear you won’t hurt my
steady.”

Papa Obe rubbed his chin and eyes him
thoughtfully. Though his expression was serious there was a wicked
gleam in his milky orbs. “No good, Ro. There be no future with this
one. Her time has come and gone. What remains belongs to that fairy
there.” He pointed his stick at me and I jolted as if he’d poked me
with it. “It was you who call on the Loa, was it not?”

I bit my lip, nodded. “I didn’t
realize it was a them. I just … I’d heard a rumor that Lex’s
Mother–”

“
Mama Odette,” the Houngan
supplied. “She was a friend of mine. A mighty Mambo and a great
force against the witches.”

I shrugged. “I don’t know about any of
that. She was dying and I knew my magic couldn’t save her … so I– I
… looked elsewhere.”

The Houngan tapped his stick onto the
ground; hand tight around the knobby top. “I know, child. And the
Loa answered you – a rare thing indeed. Her ancestral blood is no
doubt the reason why. I hear whispers from the other side it was a
gift to her mother.” He looked past me into the alleyway beyond.
“Won’t you come out and greet an old man, girl?”

Ro started and shot Papa Obe a
frustrated look. He jumped down off the porch and shuffled along to
the alleyway, disappearing into the shadows. He and Lex had a short
heated conversation before he appeared again, her pale hand in his
dark one. Her head was tucked into her chest, long hair covering
her face, and her movement wooden. I frowned. Usually she moved so
gracefully, but now it was like she had planks of wood for
limbs.

She reached my side and breathed out,
sent me a dagger like look under her colorless lashes.

I leaned closer and from the corner of
my mouth whispered, “S’up with you?”

“
She’ll find it hard around
me,” Papa Obe answered. “You did not bind her to you leaving her
open to the influence of others.” He tutted.
“Dangerous.”

I looked at Lex, took in her
submissive posture and terrified expression. “You won’t do anything
to her will you?” Feeling less and less happy about the nefarious
expression flickering across his face I stepped in front of Lex
protectively. “Let’s be clear from the beginning, it’s not okay for
you to control her do you understand?”

The sinister look that had warred over
his face was swept away by sheer delight. He laughed boomingly.
“It’s not me you must fear girl, but her. And them nasty witches.
They could mess with your girl’s mind until she loses it.” He
tapped his temple. “Twist her into something evil, you hear
me?”

The thought of a witch using Lex for
evil left me cold. My friend was in danger yet again because of my
mistakes. It was bad enough I had to live with what I had done to
her, that she had died simply for knowing me, but still my bad
choices came back to haunt her. She had to live as a monster and
now must face the fear of one day being controlled by
others.

I inhaled sharply. I would not let
that happen.

“
Then show me show to
protect her,” I said fiercely. “Teach me how to use magics like you
do.”

He shook his head. “Too late, nothing
you can do. She must guard herself.”

I pulled my brows together and ran my
top teeth over my bottom lip, considering what he was saying. “She
is the last of her kind, a Mambo,” I muttered.

“
And a zombie,” Ro added
thoughtfully.

Papa Obe nodded. “She has the power,
but I cannot teach her how to use it. I am a Houngan. The male does
not teach the female.” He motioned to himself then her and sighed.
“Look how I run my mouth. All this talk yet we avoid that which be
most important. Why you come here, Priestess? What you want from
me?”

I wanted exactly squat from this man.
I looked to Ro since it was his idea.

He straightened and lopped his thumbs
into his jean pockets. “I tell you I need help. We need help.” He
jerked his head at me. “A hideaway until her man and brother come
get her.”

The Houngan laughed throatily. “You
choose to come here instead of hide up inside Temple. Them Clerics
figure out you are the Bokor they hunted all these
years?”

Ro’s lips twisted. “They know enough
now.”

“
You come to me with the
lost fairy Priestess, her vampire lover and the dead daughter of
Mama Odette?” His eyebrows rose. “You think I should let you in my
home.”

Ro pouted. “Had little choice,
Papa.”

“
I know. I hear and see
many things, boy.” He stepped back and pointed through the door,
into the darkness of his shack.

Tomas stepped forward.

“
Stop!” Papa Obe’s voice
boomed. His hair lifted, crackling with electricity, and magic slid
over my skin making my shiver. “You may not step here, vampire.”
His eyes rolled into the back of his head leaving white orbs with
fine red webs of veins at the edges. “Something about you stinks of
witchcraft.”

An unexpected glint of steel appeared
in Tomas’ eye. “Calm yourself, Houngan.”

Papa Obe’s eyes rolled forward and his
milky gaze switched to me. “I want to help, but you must understand
that I cannot let him enter. I sense witches’ darkness.”

“
Why,” I asked, truly at a
loss. “Tomas won’t hurt you, I swear it.”

“
Your word is your oath,
but his is not.” Papa Obe’s head dipped down to peer at us from
under his thick and short lashes. “Vampires are tricky, selfish
things.” He jerked his chin toward Tomas. “He cannot
enter.”

“
He won’t harm you,” I
said.

“
No dead one can harm a
servant of those who have power over life itself, child. The Loa
keep me safe from their kind.”

Tomas squared up to the man. “I’m here
to help Rae. It is as simple as that.”

“
It’s never that simple
when it comes to your kind,” Papa Obe replied evenly.

This was ridiculous. It seemed every
demon had issues with any not of their kind and it was beginning to
frustrate me. “Enough,” I huffed, and placed my hand on Tomas’
chest to firmly push him back a step. “We need to get off the
street. Ro brought us here because he thought we could trust you
and that you could help. I want to stay, but I won’t if I have to
worry about Tomas roaming around out here.”

The Houngan said nothing. He lowered
his chin, expression dark, and slinked out of the way.

Tomas nodded once and moved passed
him. His shoulders relaxed and he sent the older man an impatient
look. “I told you I mean you no harm.”

“
And there was no harm in
being sure,” he replied. Confused, I looked between them. “No one
that means me ill can enter,” Obe explained and waved me
forward.

Magic hung in the air. It was like a
constant itch between the shoulder blades you could not scratch
because although you could use your arms you did not have a
particular type of hand to scratch that particular itch.

The air smelt herby. Sniffing, I
followed my nose and nodded in satisfaction at the fresh and dried
herbs stuffed into a weave basket hanging from the ceiling. The
wood floor was covered in soft, dark sand. The grains were rough
against the soles of my feet, and oddly warm.

Ro tapped my shoulder and handed me a
pair of boots, dark trousers, and a sleeveless muslin tunic.
Nodding my thanks, I ducked behind a woven screen in the corner and
quickly got dressed. The clothes fit fine, better than Tomas’
shirt, but the footwear made me unexpectedly tearful. The boots
Alec had gotten me were quite lovely and these could not compare.
Walking back out I tugged at the tunic to get it to fall properly
around my wings and handed Tomas back his top. I couldn’t keep my
glamour on any longer, I felt too constricted and weak.

The shack was one of the larger I had
seen in the slums and one of the best kept. Not that it meant much
when it came to the slums. Tattered, yet colorful tapestries
covered every available space, and were pinned onto the walls.
Every flat surface or shelf was crammed with dirty glass jars and
bottles cloudy with age. I leaned over to stare into the murky gray
water of an open topped jug and recoiled when I realized the white
bulbous things floating were eyeballs. On closer inspection, all
the pots held some kind of body part or other and I began to feel
faint.

Tomas looked repulsed and stood stiff
as a pillar in the centre of the room, hands tight by his
sides.

There were aged wooden faces, masks,
tacked onto the ceiling with gaping mouths and narrowed eyes, faces
condemning us from above. Their eyebrows and beards were painted in
garish colors. Clumps of straw lashed together with twine sprouted
out the rounded heads in an imitation of hair. Shuddering, I tore
my eyes away from them, freaked out. Threadbare blankets and
pillows were piled in a corner. A low table placed beside them with
abandoned dirty cups and plates had me assuming that was where he
slept and ate.