Come Alive (Experiment in Terror #7)

CHAPTER EIGHT

Once again we woke up hung over. Actually, I woke up before Perry, just as the sun was beginning to rise off the gingerbread roofs around us. Damn alcohol never let me sleep in.

I rolled out of bed and quickly slipped on my clothes, wanting to get out to a nearby café and bring back something greasy for the both of us. There was one across the street that did pulled pork egg benedicts, and I was just ordering two of those, plus two giant to-go cups of Bloody Marys (I loved this town), when someone tapped me on the shoulder.

“Maximus,” I seethed, knowing it was him without even turning around.

“Hello, Dex,” he said in a distinctly Newman-esque voice.

I folded my arms and eyed him. “Okay, how can you say you’ve never heard of Vegetable Lasagna but you can do an impression of Wayne Knight just fine?”

He didn’t smile. “We need to talk.”

I grabbed a Bloody Mary and took a long spicy sip. Damn, that was good. “Are you breaking up with me? No wait, did we keep you up last night?”

“Dex, this has to stop.”

The clerk handed me the take-out box with the Benedicts inside, a grease spot already forming. I took another sip, studying Maximus’s face. Sometimes the amount a person had changed could really take you by surprise. We all get older, but it wasn’t until now that I realized how different Maximus really was from the boyish imp I knew back in college. Granted, he was always built like an ox, four inches above six feet, his hair always red and his face both tanned and faintly freckled. But he used to have this youthful glow about him that was kind of hard to explain without sounding gay. An energy, a vibrance. His eyes used to sparkle, and yes, this was growing increasingly homoerotic, but it was the truth.

Now though, for the first time, I felt like I was really seeing how much older he was. I was older too. I had a few grey hairs popping up along the sides of my head, I had crinkly lines around my eyes that never used to be there, and I certainly wasn’t handling hangovers as well as I used to. I was fairly close to being a normal 32-year-old male, albeit one that actually wasn’t very normal at all.

But Maximus looked tired. His skin was more ashy than weather-beaten, his hair had lost some of its luster (and I noticed this because he used to douse his hair in beer and lemons until it was shiny enough to see your reflection), and there was a bit of a paunch starting up where there was only brawn and muscle before.

“What are you staring at?” he said, and I became aware that he was waiting for me to respond to something. What was it? Oh yes, Dex this has to stop.

“I’m staring at you, ginger Elvis in the peanut butter and banana sandwiches era. Why do we need to talk? What needs to stop?”

He looked out the window and said, “Come with me.”

I rolled my eyes and asked the clerk to put the Benedicts in a bag since I was already juggling two drinks, and ran out into the street after him.

It was pleasantly warm here in March, jeans and tee-shirt weather. The tourists were around, but not in droves, and who cared anyway because I was a damn tourist myself. I followed Maximus down the street, watching the occasional car bump by, shock absorbers getting an endless workout, until he stopped at a wide open park on one side of a church. There was a statue of Andrew Jackson on a horse in the middle, and we sat down at one of the many benches that were in a circle around it. Some were filled with people sipping morning coffees, others were filled with sleeping homeless people, but for the most part the park was dead quiet.

“All right, so what do you want to talk about?” I asked him. I was almost finished with my Bloody Mary and the longer I’d have to sit here talking with Maximus, the more I’d want to finish Perry’s. “Is it the zombies? Is that what needs to stop, because while I agree that zombies have to be stopped on principle, I just don’t think you and I are the ones to do it.”

“Please, I’m being serious.” And he was.

Still. “About the zombies?”

“You and Perry. It has to stop.”

“Dude, don’t take this the wrong way, but I’m not sure how many times I need to tell you to f*ck off before you get it. I’m sorry Perry isn’t around to kick you in the shin, but I’ll be more than happy to provide an acceptable substitute. My knee, your balls. My fist, your nose. Take your pick.”

“Can you just for one minute get your head out of your ass and listen to me.”

The tone he was using made prickles of unease creep along my neck. Delusional or not, he meant every word. The smile disappeared from my face.

“What then?”

He wiggled his jaw back and forth and then pressed at it with his fingers. A few moments passed. In the distance, I saw mule-pulled carriages line up near the river. He exhaled slowly.

“This is going to sound strange, so just hear me out. You can swear and posture and do whatever it is you do when you hear something you don’t want to hear. But for now…let me speak.”

“Okaaaaaay.”

“You and Perry are not meant to be.”

“Uh…”

He raised his meaty hand. “Not finished. I can’t really go into the details at the moment because you wouldn’t believe me anyway, but I just wanted to put this idea in your head. You and Perry are not meant to be. I’m not saying this out of jealousy or hatred or spite or anything. Believe it or not, I am saying this, telling you this, because I care about you. I care about both of you. You love Perry, I know that, but not all love leads to good things. Take it from me, sometimes we want to do everything and risk everything for love and it doesn’t mean shit. It all falls through. Being in love, having love in your hands, doesn’t mean that you’ll always have it. And in your case, it doesn’t mean that good will come out of it. Wars are started over love, people are killed over love, lives are ruined over love. If you and Perry ever become something more than you are now, if you ever impregnate her, if you want a baby, she—”

And that hit me like a ton of bricks.

“I’m done listening,” I interjected, and leaped to my feet as if I’d been stung with a cattle prod. I’d been listening in a state of disbelief, in a state of good humor, in a state of reluctance, not really understanding a single word this crazy man was saying, but bringing Perry into it, bringing a pregnancy into it, that was too much. I had my limit and that was it.

I stood over him, feeling red hot rage flow through every part of my body, daring me to let loose on him. “Don’t you ever talk to me about this again, you understand? Don’t you f*cking dare. I can’t say what I’ll do to you if you do, but I can say it won’t be pretty. And I mean it. You’re a sick, jealous son-of-a-bitch. You know that Perry had a miscarriage, with my baby, you know that, and you have the f*cking nerve to drag me out here and tell me this shit? You have another thing coming, and I don’t know what it is, but you’re not going to like it. Now you’re going to shut your fat mouth and never bring this up with me—or her—again or so help me god, I’ll be straining your dick through your teeth.”

I tossed my empty Bloody Mary at him, the ice rattling out of the cup and raining down on him before he had a chance to duck. Then I stormed back into the Quarter, trying to swallow down the parasitic anger. I couldn’t even begin to fathom what he was trying to do, but all I could figure was that I had majorly underestimated him. He was either more jealous of me or more in love with Perry than I had thought. No wonder he was looking so ugly if this was what was eating him up inside.

By the time I got back to the bed and breakfast, I was a lot calmer. I’d also finished Perry’s drink which helped. I got her a new one but the Benedicts were cold. She didn’t care though. She’d been worried when she woke up and couldn’t find me around. To see her worry like that about me pretty much melted my heart.

I decided to keep what Maximus said to me a secret. It wouldn’t do Perry any good to know how obsessed with us he was, and it would only freak her out. I just wanted to get through the next week or so without being arrested for manslaughter. As much as the idea of zombies interested me, I was all for shooting at the haunted house, seeing the usual funny lights and maybe something chilling on the EVP recorder, and getting the hell out of Louisiana. I wanted to go back to my normal life, with Perry in my bed and Fat Rabbit on the couch, and unspoken dreams of her and I together.

Unfortunately, just because I felt that way didn’t mean Perry did. She was excited about the potential zombie situation and was looking forward to meeting Rose at noon. She’d told me that Rose had interested her since there weren’t many people out there who could see ghosts, at least none that we knew. She wanted to see if Rose ever had a Pippa in her life and wanted to know what other abilities she had. From what I saw last night, she at least seemed to have the ability to make other people zone out. She’d be an excellent spy, though I guess it helped with bartending as well.

We met Maximus down in the lobby at twenty minutes to twelve. He was chatting to the plucky receptionist, who was batting her grey hair down nervously, obviously charmed by the f*ckhead.

“Vegetable Lasagna,” I called out. “Let’s go.”

He turned to face me and I had to immediately forget the terrible things he’d said to me earlier, otherwise I’d never even make it through the day.

I forced a smile and jerked my head toward the door. Then I grabbed Perry’s hand and pulled her outside. She was wearing leggings and boots again, with a skull-embossed sleeveless dress on top. It was so nice to see her showing more skin, although I’d probably find it a lot more distracting as the months got warmer.

It wasn’t long before we were outside of Nameless. The bar looked different in the daytime, both sweeter and older, like so many of the buildings in the Quarter. Strands of Mardi Gras beads hung from the sign and awning, tossed there only weeks ago.

Now that I was really getting a feel for the place, I could sense this vibe of resilience underneath the rough city streets, this pride and strength to keep going, to rebuild, to forge on. But even with that spirit everywhere, I could sense spirits of another kind. Sprits of history, spirits of loss, spirits of revenge. This didn’t happen often to me, only a few times when I used to live in New York, but now that I was sober I could feel a layer of supernatural chaos underneath everything. I wondered what looking though the Veil here would look like.

As we waited for Rose to show up—the bar had already been open for several hours—I studied Perry. She seemed to be okay at the moment, not edgy or nervous like she could be if she was experiencing the same feelings that I was. The minute she looked even the slightest bit uneasy, I’d be there telling her she wasn’t alone in this. Until then, it was another thing I was keeping to myself.

Finally Rose poked her head out of the bar. She was wearing worn jeans that fit her like a glove and a dark grey tank top that showed the slightest sliver of her flat belly. She was in good shape, looking as if she ran several miles before breakfast. I wondered if the Rose that Maximus had known was softer in body too.

“Y’all ready to meet the Mambo?”

“I can do the mambo,” I said. “Mambo Number Five.”

Perry let out a derisive laugh. “Thanks, I just got that song out of my head.”

I shrugged. “Well, it was my song back in the day, but I never got to sing about Perry.”

“You guys can be cute later,” Rose said. “In private. Without me there. Let’s go.” >

“There is no private for these two,” Maximus muttered as he brushed past me, following Rose. I was almost fooled for a second into thinking this morning had never happened. There was no delight in our loud antics anymore. Well, no petty delight anyway. That was some top-notch sex.

Rose took us around the corner to a half-empty parking lot near a venue called One-Eyed Jacks. which she assured us was the best place to see live music. She said she saw Queens of the Stone Age play there to only 900 people. I decided I hated Rose after that.

She drove an old crew cab truck that was cherry red and rusted in parts. It groaned and creaked as she eased it out of the Quarter and around numerous detours from endless construction work, but assured us that the old beast would probably outlive her. It was funny hearing her speak. At times Rose looked and acted like she was our age, but at others she came across as a toughened old lady. Maybe that’s what Maximus had meant by her becoming harder. Maybe whatever life threw at her, whether it was Maximus or owning a bar, or seeing the supernatural, just made her wiser. I didn’t think it was possible to be both soft and experienced—your battles caused the scar tissue. I knew I definitely had mine.

“Where does Mambo Maryse live?” Perry asked as Rose pulled the noisy car onto the I-10. We were sitting in the crew cab together and I was having a flashback to the days when we were first getting to know each other and we had to share the back of her cousin’s truck with a crab trap. Had never been so thankful for a crab trap in my life.

“She had a nice place on the outskirts of town, used to do readings there back in the day. But after Katrina, her place was damaged. She moved further West, a house on the bayou.”

“By herself?” Maximus asked. “Isn’t she ancient? When I last saw her she looked like she was going to keel over.”

Rose shot him a dry look. “She’s stronger than she looks. She has her apprentice taking care of her now. She lives in a cabin further out in the swamp water, the kind you have to take an air boat to get to. Anyway, she’s living with Maryse now, well most of the time.”

“So how did you get to know this Mambo?” I asked, watching as the industrial buildings melted away into endless stretches of swamp water, duck blinds, and billboards.

Rose eyed me in the rear view mirror, her eyes mirroring the grey water around us. “My family was very much into the occult. Well, my ma was. Dad was a cattle farmer and just turned a blind eye. She never practiced Voodoo but it fascinated her. She got to know Mambo Maryse in the eighties, stayed friends with her until she died. Then I stayed friends with her. My ma was an immigrant so she didn’t have any family on this side. I looked to Maryse as a viper-tongued maw-maw, a grandmother, especially after my dad died too.”

“Sounds like my kind of woman,” I told her. “But you said she’s sick now?”

“They say old age, and I reckon that makes sense, but…”

“You don’t believe it,” Perry filled in.

Rose brushed her hair back but it wouldn’t respond, her frizziness mocking her. “It just doesn’t feel right. I’ve tried talking to Maryse about the illness, about what’s ailing her, but even last week she said it was just her time. She said…the stress was too much.”

“Mambos have stress?” I asked.

“Ones that are being shunned by the community? Yeah, they have stress, sugar.”

Maximus looked at her askance. “Shunned?”

Rose exhaled slowly. “The last two years or so, the other Mambos have been accusing her of being a Bokor, like the person who’s raising the dead and creating the zombies. I don’t really know why. Maryse hasn’t done anything then and she certainly isn’t doing anything now.”

Huh. Well that was at least a little suspicious. The Voodoo community shuns this Mambo a few years ago for going to the “dark side,” now she’s ill and zombies are tearing up the ghetto.

I glanced at Perry, wondering if she was thinking the same thing. Her brow was furrowed, the wheels spinning; it was safe to say we were on the same page.

We lapsed into silence after that, Rose glancing at us on occasion, as if she could see the suspicion on our faces. After a while, the tension was too much for the giant jackass ginger and he started asking Rose about the people who used to work at the bar, harmless small talk, although I could sense rehashing the past was a bit leaden for both of them.

Fortunately, the Mambo’s house wasn’t too far outside the city limits. It was amazing how quickly the landscape changed, how the dark, murky waters, flocks of birds, and weeping trees took over civilization in an instant. Rose turned the truck onto a dirt road and we bounced down it, my eyes torn between the beauty of the dark swamp around us and the beauty of Perry’s bouncing breasts.

The further we went, the more it looked like we’d never see a human soul again, until finally, rising up like a beacon, was a small, one-level house, bright white with green trim and a screened-in porch. The swamp water lapped a few feet away, and I noticed a low makeshift wall of sandbags sat between it and the house. There was also a small dock with a metal air boat on one side and a rowboat with peeling paint on the other. The inlet was flanked by drooping trees rising right out of the water, white egrets flapping noisily to and fro. Crickets and unknown insects chirped loudly, despite it being afternoon.

We parked the car beside two others, a small rusted Toyota and a brand new Range Rover.

“Does she have company over?” I asked.

She shook her head as she jumped out of the truck. “As I said, she’s shunned. Ambrosia keeps her Rover here since you can’t drive to her cabin anyway.”

“Ambrosia?”

She tried to a hide a smile. “Ambrosia Paris. It’s the name of her apprentice.”

That figured. I got out and was immediately met with the musty stench of the water, which was enjoyable in a weird way. I was also met with the sudden whine and pinch of mosquitoes.

I slapped my arm in several places, swearing. Mosquitoes were my nemesis these days. Back when I was on my medication, they never even bothered me, yet lately it was like my pure blood had been attracting them like crazy and now I was in Malaria City.

Rose leaned into the truck and pulled something out of the glove compartment. She tossed it at me and I caught it. Good ol’ fashioned Off!

“I don’t even get bitten anymore,” she said, “but you three won’t be so lucky. Spray yourself up.”

I clouded myself in a toxic mist and did the same to Perry before reluctantly giving the spray to Maximus. I guess it was more like I threw the spray at him, aiming it at his head. Big dumb oaf had quicker reflexes than I gave him credit for.

We waited for him to finish, then walked up to the house, following a stone path lined with translucent, reddish flowers that were shaped like bells. Butt ugly landscaping, if you asked me.

“Carnivorous plants,” Rose said, nodding at them with a grin. I was starting to get a distinct Little Shop of Horrors vibe from the place and the feeling doubled once we climbed up the steps and opened the rickety screen door to the porch.

The porch was lined with plant after plant after plant, some hanging from the roof, others seeming to grow straight up from the ground, breaking through the slats on the porch floor. There was also a mess of dried herbs, a bunch of jars filled with thick goo and what looked like embalmed reptiles, and a small fridge that hummed in the corner. I didn’t want to know what was in there.

Rose rapped on the glass door while my eyes were still searching the porch for more weirdness. I found it when I recognized a few beehives stacked in beneath a large Venus fly trap.

“Those don’t have bees, do they?” I asked. “Because I’m allergic. Seriously allergic.” And though I’d packed the Epi-Pen in my luggage, I hadn’t been smart enough to bring it with me. Then again, I didn’t know we’d been venturing out into an honest to God Voodoo hut on a bayou.

Rose shook her head. “They’ve been empty for a long time. Maryse used to use the beeswax for a lot of things.”

I swallowed hard, trying to slow my heart. That whole thing put me on edge and I had to remind myself that Maryse probably wasn’t much different from our old Medicine Man friend, Bird.

The door opened and I was expecting to see some horrible haggard old witch. Instead it was a smiling young woman. I was actually a bit taken aback. This woman was smoking hot.

“Hello, Rose,” she said in a very light Creole accent. She smiled brighter at the rest of us. “You must be the ghost hunters. I’m Ambrosia. Won’t you come in?”

Hell yes, we’d come in if she was showing us the way. She was a very light-skinned African American with pale green eyes, tall in stature. Her hair was shiny and wavy, rich like dark chocolate, going all the way to her ass. And what an ass. It was one of those shelf ones you were tempted to place something on, just to see if it would stay. I could bounce f*cking nickels off that thing, if not smack it a few times with my dick.

I felt coldness from beside me and looked down at Perry, who was looking straight at Ambrosia with a worried look in her eyes, her lips pressed into a thin line. Ah shit, I’d been ogling the woman, hadn’t I? Jenn had never cared who I ogled, but Perry wasn’t built like that. I had to keep my old habits in check when I was around her and remember that she was a lot more insecure than she looked.

I put my arm around her and gave her a squeeze while I introduced us to Ambrosia.

“I’m Dex, this is my girlfriend Perry.” I looked over at Maximus. “That’s Maximus Douchekabob. It’s a foreign-sounding last name, but he’s actually from here.”

Maximus glared at me before offering Ambrosia his hand and a shy smile. Well, wouldn’t you believe it, Maximus was smitten with her as well. I guess he wasn’t the racist redneck I’d pegged him out to be.

We followed Ambrosia inside and I did my best to keep my eyes off her jean-clad ass. I kept them on Perry’s breasts instead and it worked out even better.

Maryse’s place was fairly large for being one-level, though it suffered from the same amount of controlled chaos and clutter as the porch did. Thankfully there was nothing of the heebie jeebie variety inside, just stacks and stacks of books and magazines, floral upholstery, watercolor landscapes, doilies, lace, dolls, and dust.

“Why don’t you take a seat,” Ambrosia gestured to the couch, the gold bracelets around her slender wrists jangling. “I’ll go see if Maryse would like to see you.”

She disappeared down a dark hall, and Rose, Perry, and I took a seat on the flowery couch while Maximus tried to fit his frame into a wicker rocking chair. We waited for a few tense minutes, all of us taking in the sights of the house, except for Rose of course, who was texting someone on her phone.

When I got bored trying to figure out what kind of reading material a Voodoo priestess tried to keep herself busy with (books on chicken sacrifice, and romance novels, probably), my mind drifted over to Maximus. He was sitting there in the rocker, awkwardly I might add, and avoiding my eyes. Which was just as well, I’d been avoiding his eyes too. But the words from the morning kept filtering into my head like tiny drops of acid, making me pay attention to them. Even though I couldn’t figure out the why aspect of what Maximus had told me, other than he was an obsessed psycho, it was the way he said it that was getting to me. He had been sincere, and when he said he was worried about us, he meant it. And that was the scariest thing of all.

“She’ll see you now,” Ambrosia said, coming back into the room. “She’s awake. I’m just going to bring her tea, but you guys can go right ahead. She’s a bit tired and you might not get much from her, but I’m sure she’ll be happy to see you, Rose.”

The way that Ambrosia said Rose threw me off a bit. Now I had to wonder if there was bad blood between these two. Perhaps the young Voodoo apprentice was worried about Rose stepping on her toes. Or vice versa.

I kept my observations to myself as we walked down the darkened hall, the matte lamps that hung overhead in shapes of flowers flickering as we went under them.

Rose knocked on the door at the end and slowly opened it when she didn’t hear a response.

Here the room was dark, all the blinds drawn shut, the air cool and damp. There was a large white, four-poster bed at the end with mosquito netting draped all around it, a ghostly look. I could see the shape of a small woman sitting up in the bed, just her hazy, dark outline through the netting. It gave me the f*cking creeps.

“Mambo Maryse?” Rose asked gently as she slowly approached the bed. The three of us hung by the door, watching her, unsure of what to do. I grabbed Perry’s hand. To reassure her, of course.

Rose drew back the netting and we all tensed up. She was going to be dead, with spiders coming out her eyes and a snake for a tongue, I just knew it. But all we saw was a skinny little white lady with long grey hair, nestled into a mound of fluffy pillows. It was too dark in the room though to figure out where she was looking, even though enough light had come in through the curtain to be reflected in her eyes.

“Can you hear me?” Rose asked, standing at the foot of the bed. “Ambrosia said it was okay to talk to you. I have some friends here you’ll want to meet.”

Maryse didn’t move or make a sound. Rose went for the curtains. “Here, I’ll let more light in.”

“No!” Maryse suddenly screeched, her voice hoarse and louder than I expected. “The light, it burns.”

Christ, what was she, a vampire?

Rose spun around and nodded frantically. “Okay, okay, don’t worry. We’ll leave it dark. I didn’t know.”

>
“Of course you didn’t know, you’re barely around,” the Mambo sniveled, settling back into her pillows. “Everyone is shunning me, including you.”

Rose sighed and looked over at us, as if we were supposed to say something. The thing is, I didn’t know what. The whole Voodoo zombie angle was Rose’s idea, not mine. I wanted that haunted house and I had a feeling an ailing Voodoo priestess would be no help with that.

“Maryse, I have some people here I’d like you to meet. Ambrosia told you about them, didn’t she?”

“Ambrosia tells me a lot of things. I never listen.”

Wow, being Maryse’s apprentice was starting to sound like a pretty shitty job. I started to wonder what Ambrosia’s deal was when I felt my gaze being drawn to the bed. Maryse was staring right at me, I could feel it.

“Who is that young man?” Maryse asked in weird disbelief, a crooked finger extended in my direction.

I pointed at myself. “Me?”

“You seem familiar.”

Well, that certainly wasn’t possible. I looked up at Maximus hulking over me and elbowed him. “This guy, I’ve heard you met him before.” I shot him a look to step forward. Apparently he was feeling nervy too.

He cleared his throat and came toward her, one slow step at a time. “Mambo Maryse. Do you remember me? It’s Maximus.”

She fell silent. The whole room did. Outside, you could hear the crickets and cicadas, the drone of dragonflies. Finally she said, “I don’t think I know you. Who is this man, Rose?”

Rose tilted her head at him apologetically before answering her. “He was my…we worked at the bar together. I know you can’t really see him now, but he was tall, handsome, with red hair. We were…together. A lot. You know him, Maryse.”

More silence. I was about to say “Ouch” on his behalf, since he failed to make an impression on her over the years, but suddenly Maryse sat up straighter, her posture rigid in the dim light.

“Jacobs,” she whispered.

The way she said his last name made chills run down my back, stopping at my balls, and continuing to my toes. Perry applied pressure to my hand, perhaps feeling the same way. Except for the balls part.

“That’s right,” Maximus said, his voice shaking a little. “Maximus Jacobs. I used to be in love with your Rose here.”

“But…” Maryse trailed off, shaking her head. “You’re mortal.”

Rose and Maximus’s eyes flew to each other, both of them wide and shining with horror.

“Of course he’s mortal,” Rose said quickly, trying to laugh it off. “He—”

“No,” she interrupted Rose, her focus back on him. “No, you changed. You’ve gone rogue. I remember now.”

I raised my hand even though she probably couldn’t see me. “Uh, miss Voodoo lady? I hate to break it to you but this dude’s been mortal for a long time. He was my college roommate and I drank him under the table time and time again.”

“You,” she seethed, her finger pointing at me again. I cringed a bit, feeling like she was poking into my soul. “You. I know you, I know about you! You’re the exception.”

I raised my brows and looked down at Perry. She was shaking her head in confusion. “Exception to what?”

“Get out,” she suddenly yelled, her glinting eyes on Perry now. “Get out, all of you, you too, Rose! I’m tired of people just showing up in my life and wanting things from me, disturbing everything. You’re all a bunch of idiots, dabbling in things you don’t understand, bending the laws with no regard for this world or the one next to us, or the one above us or the one under us. I’m too old to deal with this baloney anymore.”

And with that she flopped back on the bed and pointed at the netting. “Now close the netting and leave.”

Rose quickly did as she asked, looking flustered, and we all got out of that room as quickly as we could. Rose closed the door behind her and we scrambled out into the kitchen just as Ambrosia was coming toward us with a pot of tea.

She gave us a waning smile. “I suppose I should have warned you that she’s got a bit of dementia and has been talking gibberish for the last few days now.”

“Yeah,” I said carefully, “a little warning would have been nice.”

She beamed at me, her teeth so white, lips so full. I felt kind of dazzled. “I’ll go bring her the tea, but I’d love to talk to you guys more about all of this, even if she doesn’t want to. I have a friend whose blues band is playing in the city at Deep N’ Easy. Why don’t we all meet there tonight? I’ll even put you on the guest list.”

I looked to the others for their opinion. The women looked less enthused than the men, but Rose still nodded brusquely and said, “Sounds good, see you there.”

We left Maryse’s swamp house in a hurry, and all I could think about as we got back in the truck was how that frail old witch said she knew me. She obviously did have dementia, I mean she was surprised that Maximus wasn’t immortal anymore and probably saw a bunch of pixies dancing around her head, but it was the conviction in her words that was doing me in.

I had too many strange messages for one day. The Big Easy was turning out to be harder than I thought.