Voodoo (3 page)

The doors opened and we spilled into the club. The noise of the place hit me like a wall: people talking, piano music, a woman singing. We stepped aside, letting the rest of the group walk past us. They quickly melted into the crowd. Immediately in front of us were rows of tables hosting card games. I also saw few roulette wheels, and craps tables. A wooden bar stood against the left wall, a row of slot machines on the right. They were the old fashioned kind where you pulled the handle. As I watched, one of the machines lit up and bells rang as coins poured out at the woman in front of it.

“Let's get a drink,” Stephen muttered. I nodded dumbly, overwhelmed by the club. We forced our way through the crowd until we stood in front of the bar.

“What will it be?” asked the stocky, balding man behind the counter. His sleeves were rolled up past his elbows and his face was red and sweaty.

“Give me an old fashioned,” Stephen said, nodding to the man.

“And for your lady?” the bartender asked, looking at me. I had no idea. I’d never ordered a drink at a bar before.

“Martini?” I finally said, even though it came out like a question.

“Dirty?” The bartender raised an eyebrow at me.

“Sure,” I said, with no idea what that meant.

“Gonna be three copper,” the bartender said when he set the drinks on the counter. I took mine as Stephen dropped four copper coins into the man's hand.

“Keep it,” Stephen said, picking up his drink. The man nodded, curling his hand around the coins

We moved back into the crowd, winding our way through the gamblers until we came to the tables that led up to the stage. Round tables of varying sizes filled the space between the gamblers and the stage, most of them occupied. Along the walls the padded booths were all filled. We found a small round table with empty glasses on it, and claimed it as our own.

“Now what?” I asked. I took a sip of my drink, and grimaced; it was very strong. I pulled out one of the olives and popped it into my mouth.

“I guess we look for Hannah,” Stephen said, sipping from his glass. The ice clinked against his teeth. “Or Clea, but I really don't want her to see us.” I nodded, though I wasn't sure if I was going to be able to hold myself back if I saw my sister.

“Where do you think we might find Hannah?” I asked.

“I don't know. Maybe-”

“Welcome to Lost Angels,” a man's voice boomed out of the speakers, making them crackle. I hadn't noticed the woman had stopped singing. Stephen and I turned to look at the stage. The man wore a tux and top hat, and a graying mustache took up half his face. “Now for the show you have all been waiting for. I know you've all been hearing about this little gem our dear club has dug up. This little beauty will tickle your soul and charm even the blackest heart. I give you our pride and joy, our heart and soul. The Littlest Angel!

3.

The stage went dark, the only light in the place coming from the gambling area behind us. Gentle music filled the room like water and wind chimes, the noise of the gamblers forgotten. The feeling of expectancy was thick in the room as all eyes focused on the stage. The lights came up as the girl began to sing.

She was beautiful. The white evening gown fit her small frame like a glove, accenting her slight curves and tan skin. Her dark hair flowed in waves over her shoulders to the small of her back. With her wide brown eyes and small turned up nose, I had never seen anyone who looked so much like a doll. Her voice was to die for.

I was so enthralled by her singing that she was a few lines into her song before I glanced over at Stephen. One look at him and I knew the girl was Hannah. Pain flickered unmistakably in his eyes as he watched her. Looking back at Hannah, I saw that same pain reflected in her eyes. She was not enjoying herself. She was making everyone in the room feel something amazing, but she looked tortured.

I thought of my own sister. Would I be that pained to see her after missing her? I thought I would, but we had never been very close. In the past few years it had gotten worse as we fought over clothes, guys, and our dad's dwindling attention as his business grew. We had even been fighting when the accident happened. Nothing major, just the usual bickering. It all seemed so stupid now. I took Stephen's hand.

“That's Hannah, isn't it?” I leaned into him so I could speak without being overheard. He nodded, swallowing hard.

“Yeah, that's her. She always had a great voice.” Stephen’s voice had the strained quality of someone holding back tears

“We'll get her out of here.” I squeezed Stephen's hand. “We have to get backstage.”

Stephen nodded and stood when I stood. We wound through the tables without a single eye falling on us. No one dared look away from Hannah for a moment. We reached the backstage doors to find them guarded. Two gold coins, easily slipped from my pocket and into the hand of the guard, bought us entrance.

The hall behind the stage was plain after the luxury of the club. White walls, and a worn wooded floor lit by lamps attached to the walls every few feet.

“We should wait just off stage.” I started to turn for the stage door, but Stephen held me back.

“No,” he said. I stopped; glad he had shaken off his shock and was going to help now. “We find her dressing room and hide there.”

It wasn't hard to find her dressing room. Hurricane Girl had been stenciled on a sign that hung crookedly from a hook in the middle of the door. The door was unlocked and we slipped inside unnoticed. The room was dark except for one lamp glowing softly on the dressing table. We passed a green velvet couch and stood behind a rack of dresses.

“Now we wait,” Stephen said.

I leaned against the wall, feeling cramped in the small space. Stephen leaned beside me, and I pulled away when his hand accidentally brushed mine. I blushed at the jolt of feeling it sent through me. In that small dark space I couldn't help but admit to myself that I was starting to fall for him. Maybe it was the stressful situation we were in, or the fancy clothes, but each time he took my hand my heart did back flips. When his hand again brushed mine I left mine where it was, sinking into the feeling as his little finger slowly moved against mine.

I swallowed hard when his finger wrapped around mine. It was so much less contact than holding his hand, but it seemed to mean so much more. I wanted to turn to look at him, but I wasn’t ready for what would happen if I did. I almost jumped when his thumb began to caress my palm. I swallowed hard, shutting my eyes and letting the feelings wash over me.

It seemed like no time passed before we heard the door to the room open. My eyes opened and Stephen put his finger to his lips as footsteps entered the room. When the door shut again Stephen risked moving one of the dresses enough to see out into the room. He stepped out from behind the dresses.

“Hannah,” he said quietly. She was sitting at the dressing table, and turned at the sound of his voice.

“Stephen?” she asked, tears in her dark eyes. “Is that really you?”

“It's me.” Stephen smiled.

Hannah jumped up from the stool and fell into his arms, clinging tightly to him. She barely came to his shoulder, and buried her head in his chest. Her shoulders shook with silent tears as he smoothed her hair. I shifted uneasily, I felt like I was witnessing a very private moment.

“Uh, guys,” I finally said. “We should probably get out of here.”

“Right.” Stephen gently pushed Hannah back. She nodded, wiping tears from her eyes. Up close she looked so childlike that I couldn’t believe she was the same person I’d seen on stage. Her eye makeup smeared as she wiped her eyes, adding to the impression that she was nothing more than a little girl playing dress up.

Stephen ushered Hannah out of the room. She still seemed to be in shock, letting him lead her mutely towards the back of the club. We found the back door easily enough and were out in the cold night air in minutes. The cold seemed to bring Hannah to her senses. We hadn't gone a dozen steps from the back door before she stopped walking.

“I can't go,” Hannah said. “I can't leave.” She shook her head, and ducked out from under Stephen's protective arm.

“Yes, you can,” Stephen said. “You have to.” He tried to put his arm around her again, but she dodged away.

“No,” Hannah said, tears welling up in her eyes again. “He'll find me.” She crossed her arms, backing up toward the door.

“Who?” I asked. I looked back at the door, sure that any minute it would start to open. I looked up the alley. We were too far from the safety of the street lights in my opinion. I shivered, turning back to them.

Hannah’s eyes met mine and I saw fear there. “Mr. Jones. He'll find me and bring me back. He always does. If a girl ever tries to leave, he finds her.”

“Not this time,” Stephen assured her. He hugged her tightly again. “We're here for you now, and nothing bad is going to happen.” Hannah let him hug her for a moment, and then pulled away again, standing at arm's length from Stephen. She didn’t look convinced.

“He's right,” I said. “We just need to get far enough away from here before they notice you’re gone.” The longer we stood right outside the back door of the club, the less confident I was that we were really going to be able to escape. “Should we go back to the boat?”

“No,” Stephen said. “My friend had a place around here.”

“Had?”

“Well the place is still there,” Stephen said. “But my friend disappeared. It's close though, we can hole up there while they search for her.”

“Good enough for me.” I nodded. Anywhere that wasn’t a dark alley outside the place we were trying to escape was good enough. Stephen was holding one of Hannah's hands, and I took the other. “Come on, Hannah.” I don't know if we had convinced her that she was going to be safe with us, but her cold fingers wrapped around mine. Trusting us with her life, she let us lead her away into the night.

4.

The apartment was in what must have once been a warehouse. The square, nondescript building took up half a block and was an ugly mix of brick and dirty glass windows. Sitting just a half dozen blocks from the club and the decadence of the main street, this building was starting to decay. Vines climbed its walls and one corner was black with smoke damage.

We climbed three sets of concrete stairs before getting off at the third floor. The gray walls and concrete floor did nothing to make the place look homey. Each of the doors we passed had a number written on it; most of them had extra locks attached above the door handle. Stephen stopped in front of door number 314. He unlocked three locks before he slipped a key into the doorknob, and let us in.

The apartment was about twice the size of Hannah's dressing room. A metal bed frame with a saggy looking mattress was shoved into one corner, and a couch in another. On the opposite side of the room a sink, stove, and counter top lined the wall. A small square table with only one chair sat in the center of the kitchen area. Stephen locked the door behind us before turning on the overhead light. Only one of the lights worked. It flickered to life with what I took to be great effort, filling the room with a low hum.

“Cozy,” I said dryly.

“It isn't much,” Stephen admitted. “I don't think anyone will trace it to me though, so we should be safe.” He led Hannah over to the couch and sat her down. She looked strange sitting in the middle of such a shabby apartment in her evening gown. “Tea?” Stephen asked. Hannah and I both nodded.

Stephen filled a teapot with water and set it on the stove. When that was done he went to the bed and knelt down. He pulled a bag out from under the bed and untied it. From inside he pulled out a pair of pants and a white button down shirt. He handed them to Hannah.

“The bathroom is through there,” he said. He pointed to the door opposite to the one we had come in through. “Those will probably be a little big, but better than that God awful dress.” Hannah looked down at herself.

“Okay.” Hannah stood up and took the clothes. She stepped into the bathroom.

“How long can we stay here?” I whispered when the door had shut behind her. Even though I hardly knew Hannah I already felt protective of her. I wanted her to think that Stephen and I had everything figured out. I was really hoping Stephen had everything figured out.

“I don't know,” Stephen answered, tossing his hat on the table and running a hand over his hair. “As long as we are safe here I guess.”

“Great,” I muttered, hugging myself. I looked at Stephen beside me. “I don't even feel safe right now.”

“I know.” Stephen surprised me by pulling me into a hug. I returned it awkwardly, still not sure what to make of my feelings for him.

Hannah stepped out of the bathroom and Stephen let me go, stepping away quickly. We stood awkwardly a moment with Hannah looking at us. Finally she moved out of the doorway and dropped her gown in a pile at the foot of the bed. The pants she wore were rolled up at the ankles, and she had done the same with the shirt sleeves. On any other girl this might have looked messy, but she made it look good. She sat down on the edge of the bed and crossed her legs under her.

The teapot began to whistle, and Stephen bustled about fixing us all tea. When we all had cups in hand Stephen and I sank into the low couch across from Hannah. We sat at opposite ends, awkwardness filling the seat between us.