The Mammoth Book of Ghost Stories by Women (Mammoth Books) (60 page)

“If anyone can do it, she can,” he replied. “Let’s get you home. You’ve got a long day tomorrow.”

I met Hawk at the end of his alley just before 2 p.m., when the tide would be lowest. In the daylight, it was more difficult to see him, but when Hawk stepped into the shadows, he was nearly as clear as he had been last night. Hawk’s fatal duelling wound was as raw as the first time I’d seen him, but if it still gave him pain, he did not show it. Instead, he seemed as excited as a ghost can be about the day’s work.

“Where’s your other friend?” Hawk asked, looking for Evann.

“Coltt and Evann have the house staked out. They saw the judge leave this morning for court. He shouldn’t be home until around four p.m.”

I followed Hawk back to Mama Nadege’s cabin. The other slave homes were empty, their occupants presumably about their daily business. Mama sat on the steps of her cabin, weaving a sea-grass basket and singing. Around her were sea grass baskets of all sizes and shapes, beautiful objects with intricate patterns, woven with the touch of a master.

“You like my baskets, huh?” Mama greeted me. “Now that I’m old, this is what the master has me do all day. When I’ve made the ones Master needs for the household, I can make as many as I can to sell for myself down in the Slave’s Market.”

“They’re beautiful,” I replied, looking at the array of designs.

Mama Nadege laughed, a deep belly laugh. “Oh, you just looking at the surface, child. Stretch out your magic, and see what it tell you.”

I did just that, and my eyes grew wide. The baskets weren’t just beautiful, they were tinged with power. Magic to bring luck, to win love, to keep relationships harmonious, to prevent food from spoiling. “Household” magic my mother would have called it, often not respected as much as the great magics to affect weather or turn the tide of battle. Yet, as my mother always reminded me, such small magics were the warp and woof of our lives, and without them we would be much poorer. “Do your buyers know?”

Mama let her head fall back and gave another deep laugh. “What, you think I’m crazy, child? No one knows why, they just think my baskets are lucky as well as strong. Make them feel good when they own one, make their food last longer, make their house happier. Then they come back and buy more, and get more lucky.” She gave a crafty grin. “And the more of these baskets Master have, the more he like me. The nicer he be to my people.” She chuckled.

When this is over, if I live through it, maybe I’ll be back for one of those baskets, I thought. Something for protection, or to make the ladies notice me.

Mama held out a woven basket that looked like a cylinder with a matching lid. “I made this for you, child,” she said, and her dark eyes grew serious. “To take into that house where you’re goin’. When you find that thing your master wants, you put it in there, and my magic will keep it still. Mind you don’t open the lid once it’s in there and check on it. You keep that lid shut tight, and what you find will go to sleep.”

“Thank you,” I said. I’d been wondering how I was going to get whatever-it-was out of the house, and I sincerely hoped it would fit in Mama’s basket.

She stood and waved for me to follow her into her cabin. “Mind where you step,” she cautioned, and I looked down to see two intricate veves etched in the dirt near the centre of her small house. To the side lay a skin drum and several guttered candles. Three candles, black, purple and silver, still burned.

“We worked the magic last night,” Mama said, and I could see that she looked very tired. “I called to the loas, the spirits. I asked them for guidance. Ghede came to me. Powerful loa. Loa of death and resurrection, huh. The right spirit for this job, no? Ghede is also the patron of vampires. I think he knows just what we doin’, don’t you think? Ghede Nibo came to me. He helps the spirits cross over, and he especially care for spirits below the water.”

She set her hands on her hips, pleased with herself. “Huh. I think we got the right loa, that for sure. We fed him and gave him rum and let him smoke his cigars, and when he be all happy and satisfied, I ask him for your protection, to get those poor souls out of that house. Ghede Nibo, he say yes. That be powerful magic on your side, child.

“Here, you take this, too.” She held out a charm woven of sea grass that hung on a leather strap. The sea grass had been darkened to a red brick colour, and as I held it in my hand, some of the powder that stained it coloured my palm. “This veve, it’s for Ghede Nibo. Help you take his magic with you.”

“Thank you for the charm,” I said, fastening it around my neck. “But Coltt said the house was warded against entry. How will I get in?”

Mama gave a toothy smile. “I’m getting to that, child. We raised two loa last night. Ghede Nibo be one of them. Papa Legba is the other. Papa, he holds the doorway between us and the loa. Papa Legba, he will take you to the house and open a passage for you through the magic. What happens inside is up to you. When you find the object that gives the judge his power, you put it in my basket, seal it tight. If you can free the spirits, Ghede Nibo say he will help them cross over. The loa will wait outside. Once you’re inside the house, child, you be on your own.”

I shivered, but nodded. “Let’s go. I want to be in place at low tide, when the judge’s power is weakest.”

“I have business down by the Slave’s Market, and then I’ll go to the oyster beds. I’ll call to Yemanja, mother of the sea, to set those souls free. Slaving them in her waters is an affront to her. Find what that judge holds over those souls and break the bond, and Yemanja will set them free.” She nodded to a pile of bloody feathers in the corner that had once been a chicken. “I’ve done sacrifice to Lady Yemanja. She’ll hear me.”

Mama met my gaze. “When you’re done, come back to the alley. Papa Legba will show you the way. I will keep the candles burning for you, give you my blessing.” She reached into the folds of her voluminous white dress and brought out a small bag. It was made of leather, and bulged with whatever was inside, tied off with purple and black string.

“You take this. It’s a gris-gris bag. Very powerful. Put it in your shirt, over your heart. Keep it with you. It will give you power.”

I made a slight bow, though my heart was thudding at the idea of what I was about to do. “Thank you, Mama Nadege.”

She held her hands out over me in a gesture of blessing. “Come back safely, child. And set those spirits free.”

Hawk walked back with me to the end of the alley, though in the sunlight he was difficult to see. At the end of the alley, an old man waited with a dog. He was a very dark man, and a half-smoked cigar hung from one corner of his mouth. A wide-brimmed straw hat kept me from seeing his eyes. He leaned on a crutch on his left side. The dog sat quietly beside him, watching me. I’d probably passed old black men who looked just like him a hundred times in the streets of Charleston, but I knew for certain I hadn’t passed him. Even at a distance, I could feel the waves of power that rippled from him. I didn’t know what he was, but I was certain of one thing: he wasn’t human.

The old man waved for me to follow him, and set off at a faster pace than I would have thought possible towards Judge Von Dersch’s house.

I could feel the wardings around the house before we reached it. Cold, evil power. No wonder people crossed to the other side of the street when they passed. Even without magic, the house had a bad feel to it. And I was going in alone.

Evann was staked out down the street, with a big hat that hid his features. He leaned against a wall, reading a newspaper, but I knew he was keeping watch to make sure the judge didn’t return. Evann gave me a nod that might have been just friendly, but it was his all-clear signal. Coltt wasn’t in sight, but I knew he was watching the back of the house, and if he’d seen something, he’d be out front along the sea wall, smoking a pipe.

I followed Papa Legba and his dog into the narrow alley between the houses. The wardings pressed on my magic horribly, screaming in my head for me to leave. I could see the warding like a dark film around the house. Papa Legba raised a hand, and there was silence in my mind. A doorway opened in the dark wardings, and I stepped through. Mama Nadege said Papa Legba would help me get out again, and I certainly hoped he understood that part of the plan. I had my veve charm and Mama’s basket, and although I didn’t doubt her magic, in my belt was a loaded pistol. Taking a deep breath and clutching the sea-grass basket, I stepped over the wardings.

I’d been afraid that I would need Coltt’s skill at picking locks, but it turned out that the judge put a lot of confidence in his wardings. The locks on his house were easy enough for me to get open, with a little jiggling from Coltt’s picks and a nudge from my magic. I glanced up at the sky. The day had grown cloudy, and now it looked as if a storm were brewing. I opened the side door and stepped inside.

The interior of the house was gloomy. Blinds were drawn closed over many windows, and a thick layer of dust lay everywhere. Cobwebs cascaded in the corners, filled with the dead husks of the spiders that dared intrude on the judge’s sanctuary. Grey sheets covered the furniture, slipcovered as if the owner had gone off for an extended trip. Yet we knew that the judge still resided here. Maybe “lived” wasn’t the word. Nothing seemed to live within these walls.

The odour of mildew and the stale air made me cough. Beneath it was a strong smell of camphor. I had entered through the piazza, and now made my way into the parlour. Faded curtains shrouded the windows, letting through only dim rays of light. On the slipcovered furniture, boxes, scrolls, books of all kinds and sizes and metal tins were piled haphazardly several feet above the cushions. More boxes, crates, barrels and tins were stacked in every corner of the room, leaving only a few narrow paths. Here and there, I saw discarded pieces of clothing and old rags. I had the mental image of a dragon’s lair, and a large black dragon coiled atop a mound of bleached bones and mouldering treasure. Judging by the dust, none of the judge’s collections had been touched in years.

On shelves all around the parlour I saw small glass boxes. Most of them were filmy with dust; none looked as if they had been opened or moved in a long time. There were dozens of them: on the bookshelves, atop the side tables, on the mantle above the fireplace. I vowed to take a closer look on my way out.

I touched the veve on the strap at my throat for luck, and moved further into the house. It was dark enough that I lit a small candle lantern that sat on a side table. With the draperies pulled tight, I wasn’t worried that I’d been seen by neighbours. The candle’s glow was comforting, and I moved deeper into the gloom.

The next room was a library. Shelves ranged all the way to the ceiling, several feet above my head. There were hundreds of leather-bound books; not surprising for a scholar and a judge. But on every shelf were three or four of the glass boxes, and here and there small urns. I struggled to remember where I had seen urns like that before, and then I remembered. One or two such urns had come into Uncle Evann’s shop. Cremation urns. I shuddered. Somewhere in the house, I could hear the deep, regular ticking of a large clock, and it seemed to echo my pounding heart.

I reached out with my magic. My touch was cautious, checking for magical traps. I was astounded to see the room lit as if with captured stars as every one of the glass boxes began to glow.

I looked closer at one of the boxes on the shelf nearest me, and had to blow on it to clear away enough dust to see inside. A button from a man’s coat lay in the box and a few strands of hair. I backed up a step as my magic touched the box. A wave of anger hit me like a punch in the jaw. I had a glimpse of a man in worn and stained clothing, wearing a tattered coat with buttons like the one in the glass box. He looked like a brigand, and I was glad I hadn’t met him in a dark alley. Quickly, I turned my attention to the next box. Inside was a meerschaum pipe, stained with tobacco from long use, a sailor’s comfort. With it, also, were a few strands of hair.

I gaped at the shelves, understanding what I had found. By holding on to a possession of each condemned man and a few strands of hair, Judge Von Dersch had been able to tap into the power of the souls bound to eternal torment in the oyster shoals. There were boxes everywhere I looked, and I was certain that if I counted them, I would find three hundred glass cases, one for every damned soul on whom Judge Von Dersch had passed sentence.

I let my magic gently skim across the shelves. The clock’s ticking grew louder as I moved around the library, and then I saw it – a large, graceful Morbier clock in an ornate cabinet. The cabinet of the clock was gently curved, wider at the top for the clock face, slim at the top of the body, then swelling to where the pendulum hung, and wider still at the feet. The cabinet was a dark Oriental lacquer, and it was covered with carvings and symbols I did not recognize.

I looked closer, and realized how the clock resembled the rough outlines of a human form. Even the terms for its parts, face, body, foot, made it sound human. I looked closer, then recoiled as my magic brushed against it. The clock resonated with power, a dark magic that hissed and sang at the very edge of my consciousness. I stared at it. The clock was as tall as I was, far too large to fit in Mama Nadege’s basket.

Then I saw the pendulum. A bronze disc the size of a dinner plate swung back and forth, suspended by a long metal shaft. On the shaft were three gems: a shattered moonstone, a white opal and a garnet, all unlucky. I dared another flicker of magic and realized that the clock was not the locus of power; the stones in its pendulum were. Those I could fit in my basket.