Vendetta (Deadly Curiosities Book 2) (37 page)

I
WAS RESTLESS,
so I decided to take a walk the next morning, after we opened the shop. “I’m going over to the Lowcountry Museum,” I said. “Lucinda’s exhibition should be ready to open, and I wanted to ask her about what Caliel said when we were at the power plant.”

“Take the rental car,” Teag said. “We don’t need another Nephilim incident. If Sariel is behind this, then you and I are a way he could get at Sorren. Please – drive.”

I sighed. It was sunny and mild and the idea of a walk to clear my head was attractive. Still, I couldn’t argue with Teag; there had been too many attacks to be careless, and I didn’t relish another run-in. “All right,” I conceded. “I won’t be long.”

My car wouldn’t be out of the body shop for a while, so I appreciated having a rental, which saved me from needing to borrow Teag’s car. I took the long way to the museum since I wanted to enjoy the sunshine and get some perspective on all the weird stuff that had been going on. Teag and Sorren and I had fought some scary supernatural plots before, but this series of attacks was personal, and that made it worse – as if someone planning to kill tens of thousands of people wasn’t bad enough.

As I drove past one of the Ghost Bikes I slowed down. The front wheel was turning slowly, but a few seconds later it spun wildly, and the bike began to shake and shudder, as if it were trying to tear free of the chain that held it to the telephone pole.
Hurry,
it seemed to say.
Time’s running out.

The Ghost Bike incident rattled me, and I took a few deep breaths when I parked in the Lowcountry Museum’s lot. Big banners proclaimed ‘Voodoo and You: Loas and the Lowcountry’, and other banners included pictures of items on display. It looked like everything was ready to go, and I knew it would be a real accomplishment for Lucinda to bring off a successful exhibition.

I navigated the receptionist and ignored the velvet ropes that prevented museum-goers from entering the exhibition before it opened. Lucinda and her team had gotten a lot done since my last visit. I kept my hands behind my back, resolutely not touching anything. I could hear Lucinda talking with her assistants, and did not want to interrupt, so I killed time by taking a stroll around the display cases.

One set of banners traced the history of Voodoo from its African and Caribbean roots. All around the space were large paintings of Loas like Papa Legba, Baron Samedi, and Erzulie Dantor along with their
veves
and the Catholic saint associated with that Loa. The glass cases held candles, dolls, shrines, and charms, showing how the practice of Voodoo – or Voudon as many preferred – differed depending on the time period and the location. The exhibit was fascinating and before I knew it, I had made my way around the room.

I found myself staring at a life-sized effigy of a woman sitting in a chair. Her eyes blazed red, and all around the chair were paper flames. A taxidermied black goat lay at her feet along with dried salvia, sprigs of lavender, and a bowl of candy. Behind her was a picture of Erzulie Dantor and a painting of a black pig. ‘Brule Marinette’ the small sign said, and explained that Marinette had been a mambo who helped to start Haiti’s slave revolt when she sacrificed a black pig and called on the spirit of Erzulie Dantor to free her people. Marinette, the sign added, was caught by the slaveholders and burned alive, and each year, an effigy of her was burned to honor her martyrdom. I stared at the papier-mâché face with its red eyes and shivered.

I heard the hoot of an owl, and a ghostly gray creature flew past me, brushing my face with its wing feathers before vanishing. When I looked back at the figure in the display case, real flames burned all around the chair and effigy, yet there was no smoke, and nothing inside the case was catching on fire.

I watched, terrified, and realized that the woman seated on the chair was no longer made out of papier-mâché. She was real, and I could see the rise and fall of her chest. Marinette’s blood-red eyes fixed on me, and she rose to her feet amid the flames. I backed away, certain that a glass case could not contain the power of an angry Loa.

The figure took a step toward the glass, and the fire licked at her bare feet and the hem of her dress, but did not burn. Marinette raised one hand and pointed directly at me. Her mouth began to move, but I could not hear what she was saying, although from her expression, I figured it couldn’t be good.

“
Arretez!
”

Lucinda’s voice came from behind me, strident and commanding. She continued speaking in a Caribbean patois, and then her voice began to rise and fall and she closed her eyes, raising her hands. Her whole body shook, and when she opened her eyes, her expression changed and I had the distinct feeling that someone else was looking out at me. I caught a whiff of citrus and basil, and knew I was in the presence of a second Loa who had possessed Lucinda.

The flames in the glass case surged higher. The paper figure and wooden chair should have been burning, but they weren’t. Marinette’s lips pulled back to bare her sharp, discolored teeth, and her gnarled hands scratched at the inside of the glass with yellowed nails. There was a reason ‘Marinette Bois Sech’ meant ‘Marinette of the dry arms’. As I watched, her body withered in the flames, skin stretching across her bones tight as a mummy, showing every rib and bone. Her fire-red gaze was fixed on me, and she reached toward me, closing her fist in a grasping gesture.

I could not breathe, and my stomach clenched. It was a struggle to stay standing, and I felt as if I were being squeezed by strong arms so tightly I feared my ribs might break.

That’s when I realized two more people were chanting, and saw that Lucinda’s assistants had come out of the meeting room. They stood against the wall, letting the mambo work, but their eyes were closed, faces uplifted and hands open, quietly reciting the Lord’s Prayer and the Hail Mary, a reminder of Voudon’s long, interconnected relationship with Catholicism. I couldn’t speak aloud as I struggled for breath, but I silently started to chant along with them, hoping that it would help Lucinda gain the power she needed to repel the entity in that case before it broke free.

Flames filled the glass case, though I felt no heat. I thought that surely the sprinkler system would turn on, and I feared that the museum would catch fire. Marinette’s hold on me tightened, and I dropped to my knees, gasping, as the world spun around me. A new scent, pipe smoke, told me that Papa Legba was nearby, and I hoped it was not so that he could see my soul across to the afterlife. I gasped once more and fell face-down onto the museum floor. Everything went red as my air-starved body fought to stay conscious, and then black as I lost my fight.

“C
ASSIDY.
” L
UCINDA’S VOICE
seemed far away, but I followed it, hoping to find my way out of the darkness. “Come to me.” I couldn’t see where I was going, but I held tight to Lucinda’s voice and the sound of chanting. Gradually, the darkness grew lighter, and with a gasp and a shiver, I came back to myself to find that I lay face-up on the cold tile of the exhibition room.

“I’m glad you found your way back,” Lucinda said. She was kneeling next to me, and from the worry in her eyes, I knew that what I had seen and felt had been real.

“Is she –” I turned toward the glass case, but the figure and the flames were once more just made of paper.

“Shh. Don’t say the name. She’s gone,” Lucinda said. Her white pantsuit and pink silk blouse were the perfect background for the large silver necklace she wore, a powerful protective amulet.

“I need to talk to you,” I managed.

Lucinda nodded. “I didn’t figure this was really a social call. But let’s get you off the floor and settled first, shall we?”

Lucinda helped me to my feet and one of her assistants brought a chair from the meeting room and another gave me a glass of cold sweet tea, then her staff went back to work without a word, sparing me more embarrassment. Lucinda waited until I had finished the tea and gotten my breath back before she spoke.

“Did you touch anything before the Loa manifested?” she asked. Lucinda knew my talent, so it was a reasonable place to start.

I shook my head. “No. I knew better. I walked around and looked at the displays and read the signs, but that’s it.”

She glanced toward the glass case again, but nothing had changed. I drew another deep breath and realized that I did not feel bruised or damaged, although in the middle of the attack, I could have sworn that Marinette was going to break a rib or two. Lucinda seemed to guess my thoughts.

“It was a psychic projection,” she answered my unspoken question. “Nasty stuff, and something that takes a lot of power to pull off. But not real. A warning – or a threat.”

I nodded. “And the spirits you called, where they really here?”

Lucinda laughed, a deep, smoky chuckle. “Oh yes child, they were here! If you want to thank them, send over a bottle of pink champagne for Erzulie Freda and some rum for Papa Legba.”

I resolved to stop and pick up both on my way back to the store that afternoon. “Did Caliel talk to you, about what happened at the power plant?” I asked.

Lucinda shook her head. “I’ve been mostly ignoring my phone for the last couple of days trying to get the exhibition ready. Fill me in.”

I told her what happened at the power plant, and she listened with a worried expression. “If someone’s conjured… that Loa…” she said with a nod toward the case, “they’re playing a dangerous game. You do not want to mess with her.”

“Why would someone involved with Nephilim and Watchers call for… her?”

Lucinda frowned and thought for a moment. “You know that Voudon – like all religions – has picked up bits and pieces from a lot of influences over the centuries, right?” I nodded. “That’s especially true with the Catholic saints, since African slaves weren’t allowed to pray to their own gods, so they represented their gods with saints to be able to worship without being punished.”

That much I knew. “Over the years, people have said a lot of things about Voudon, much of it mistaken,” she continued. “But there is a belief that comes up, time and again, that says that at least some of the Loa were once fallen angels.” She shrugged. “It’s a very gray area for practitioners and scholars, tied up with strange texts like the
Book of Enoch
and its Watchers –”

“What did you say?” I looked up sharply. “Watchers?”

Lucinda nodded. “Why?”

I didn’t think I could possibly explain the Briggs Society and figured that I shouldn’t try, so I left out details and told Lucinda about the summoning circles found at the power plant and the Tarleton House and what Henry and Jonathan’s ghosts had told us – and the possibility that a Watcher was about to enter through the Old Jail.

“You really have stepped in it this time, haven’t you?” Lucinda said, shaking her head. “My, my, my.”

“Do you think there’s a real connection between… her… and the Watchers?”

Lucinda shrugged. “It doesn’t matter what I think. What matters is that whoever is summoning the Nephilim and bringing through the Watchers either believes there’s a connection or just wants help waging war. And… she is always pleased with blood and fire.”

Great. Just great. Bad enough that we’ve got killer evil angels and a scary-powerful sorcerer with a grudge running around, now there’s a bad-ass Loa to worry about.

Lucinda laid a hand on my shoulder. “Sorren’s been fighting these kinds of things for a long time,” she said. “Trust him. And remember – you’ve got friends with some pretty cool talents.” She gave me an encouraging smile. “Charge up that agate necklace of yours in the moonlight. It’ll help protect you. And you know that Caliel and I will be glad to help whenever you need us.”

“Thanks,” I replied. “And I really did enjoy the exhibition – well, at least until it attacked me.”

“Take it as a compliment,” Lucinda replied. “You and Teag are both important to Sorren, and so is Trifles and Folly. If one of his enemies is behind this, you’re going to be on his hit list. So walk softly, and carry a big wand.”

W
E HAD A
store full of customers when I got back, so Teag couldn’t grill me on what happened at the museum, although he seemed to pick up on my jitters as soon as I walked in. We sold some estate jewelry to vacationers from New Hampshire, a beautiful old mirror to an interior decorator, and a fancy French clock to a guy from Seattle, although I have no idea how he planned to get it home on the plane. We had a lot of browsers as well, so it took Teag, Maggie, and me to keep everyone happy and answer all the questions. When five o’clock came and I flipped the sign in the window, we all let out sighs of relief and leaned against the cases.