Part 10 (1/2)
”She don't remember any of it,” Andre told Izzy. ”She can't tell us any more.”
”Can you do some kind of ritual to call her loa back?” Izzy asked Alain.
He shook his head. ”We don't do voudon,” he said in a strangled voice. He was agonized, and she felt for him.
”But if Ungifted can practice it,” she argued, ”there must be-” she searched for the right word ”-instructions, set ways of doing things.”
”We're Gifted,” Alain said, as if that should satisfy her curiosity. He turned away and went back outside.
It didn't satisfy her curiosity, and she was about to pursue the matter, when Caresse said, ”Well, we don't do it, either. And don't bother Mamaloi. She's done, oui?”
She patted the old lady's cheek. The woman laid her own hand over Caresse's and said something to her that made Caresse laugh. Then Andre's mate straightened and walked briskly across the cabin to a propane stove.
”Mamaloi is hungry.” She reached to a shelf above the stove and retrieved a cast-iron skillet and looked hard at Izzy. ”You may not feel like eating, but you had better, jolie maitresse. Ooh-la-la, you had better. You need to feed your blood.”
”For the gator?” Izzy asked.
”Oui,” Caresse answered. She didn't smile.
Chapter 8.
The werewolves were hungry.
Caresse put on a pair of jeans, a T-s.h.i.+rt and an Emeril ap.r.o.n, then got down to cooking a Cajun feast-gumbo, crayfish and hush puppies. Claire and a third woman named Felice pitched in.
Izzy began slogging from one moment to the next, with no blood sugar and no energy. Evidently, as a Gifted, she had reserves of energy denied regular human beings. She began to view the ability to collapse as a luxury denied her. She offered halfheartedly to help with the cooking and was relieved when they turned her down.
Instead, Alain enlisted several of the werewolves to pour big plastic buckets of hot water into a cracked porcelain tub sitting on the back porch. Alain explained to Izzy that she needed to wash the magical residue off her body. Unless she got rid of it, she would fall prey to anxiety and probably depression. Jean-Marc had told her the same thing in New York. She had ignored his advice-and paid the price exactly as Alain described it.
The three Devereaux men would make use of a makes.h.i.+ft shower, but Alain wanted Izzy to soak for a while, as a precaution. Hence, the tub.
As he turned to go, Izzy said to Alain, ”I'm so sorry about Matthieu. If there's anything I can do...”
He opened his mouth as if to reply. When he remained silent, she asked, ”Is there something?”
He shrugged. ”You are a de Bouvard. Your House is known for its ability to heal. But this wound for Matthieu...I think I'll carry it awhile, in honor of him.”
She dipped her head. She wasn't sure she knew how to heal a wound like that. She reached out and took his hand. ”I am so sorry.” The words seemed so ineffectual, so superficial.
”It's not so much his death, as how he died,” Alain murmured. ”From what the loa told Mamaloi, they didn't take his soul, so there is at least that comfort.” He ma.s.saged his temples, then dropped his hands to his sides with a sigh. ”I need to shower. Be sure to soak a long time. You're not used to the power of your Gift.”
”I will. Merci,” she said.
Alain left her, and Claire arrived with a basket of herbs. The young boy who had gone into her house to a.s.sist with the killing of the dirty cop, John Cratty, who had been in league with Esposito, sat at her feet playing an accordion while Claire sprinkled the hot water with the herbs. Izzy marveled at the boy's cheerful innocence. In New York, he had witnessed two deaths.
”How old are you?” she asked him, when he stopped playing and smiled up at her, awaiting her approval.
He frowned. Didn't he speak English? She tried again and said, ”That was very jolie. Thank you.”
”He's maybe nine,” Claire said, crumbling dried lavender between her fingers. ”His parents died when he was just a t.i.t-sucker.” She gazed fondly at the boy. ”We don't talk about it much, but we think it was Ungifted hunters. Out for sport, didn't know the difference.” She sighed as she rubbed her palms together to scatter the last of the herbs on the water.
She found a dried rose petal in her basket and tossed it into the tub. It fluttered like a b.u.t.terfly as it alighted on the surface. ”All that's gone, now that the Devereauxes are here. The Flames never protected us.”
”But aren't they...aren't we supposed to serve as protectors of the supernaturals and the Ungifted?” Izzy asked, still back at the boy's parents' having been shot by hunters.
Claire snorted. ”Show me a Gifted besides Jean-Marc who would protect a werewolf,” she said.
”My House should. Don't we protect all the supernaturals and Ungifted around here?”
”That's on a piece of paper,” Claire informed her, sniffing. ”Never been in real life.”
Izzy gave a start as the boy touched the accordion keys and sound blatted out.
”Now Jean-Marc, that one, he loves the loupes-garoux.” Claire grinned, showing big, white teeth. ”He wants to be like us. All them rules, all the pressure. I think it gets to him. He's a wildman in his heart. Wants to run free.”
Izzy filed that away. ”He's awfully uptight,” she said.
Claire raised a brow. ”Like you.” She flashed her big white teeth at Izzy. ”You want to become one of us?”
Izzy's face tingled. ”Ah...”
Laughter bubbled out of Claire as she gestured for the boy to get to his feet. ”There's no way to become a werewolf except you have a maman or a papa who is one already,” she said. ”Now, vampires, whole other story. If they bite you and suck you dry, you come back.” She nodded. Then she reached behind the tub and showed Izzy two big plastic bottles, one clear and one a frosted green. ”Shampoo. Conditioner.”
”Thank you,” Izzy said.
”De rien, chere.”
Claire hefted the boy's accordion over her shoulder and put her arm around him, leading him into the shack.
Izzy was so tired that her legs wobbled as she got into the tub. She tilted back her head, drenching her hair. She leaned her head against the edge of the tub and closed her eyes. She began to cry, long and deep and hard, as the magical residue washed off her skin. Each sob contracted her entire body. It was almost o.r.g.a.s.mic. She understood it was a release after all the horror, and she let it happen.
Jean-Marc, she sent out. Are you conscious? Are you safe?
She shut her eyes tightly, focused and hopeful, listening between sobs. If there could be a sign, any sign-his heartbeat, a single, whispered word. But she heard nothing.
After Izzy dried off, Claire brought her a pair of wool socks, a jeans skirt and a ribbed, olive sweater. No bra, no underwear. As Izzy refastened her crucifix and the rose quartz necklace with the signet ring around her neck, Claire refilled the tub and threw in all Izzy's clothes. She whistled at the body armor and asked her if she might consider outfitting the werewolves with some ”for the coming troubles.”
”Oh, yes,” Alain said, as she conferred after the feast with Andre, the two operatives, and him. Alain had eaten very little; he was still quite subdued. ”Troubles are on their way.”
They sat on the porch, Andre and Izzy in rickety but serviceable rocking chairs. Alain was seated at their feet on the uneven wooden porch, in a red-and-gray-plaid wool bathrobe. Izzy had tried to give up her chair to him, as he seemed to be in physical as well as emotional pain, but he refused.
The shadows were lengthening as the day stretched toward afternoon. The heavy canopy of trees rustled. Below them, at the water's edge, cattails jittered. There were splashes in the water-animals, birds, reptiles, Andre had a.s.sured her. But she had no idea why there couldn't also be bokors and demons traveling through the spooky bayou. Though Georges and several of the wolf brothers were escorting Mamaloi back to her own cabin in the swamp, Izzy feared for her. The voodoo woman had given them important information. Would their enemies punish her for it?
Maurice was on his way back to the mansion. After Georges had delivered Mamaloi to her home, he would join him. They were to report back what they found to Alain as soon as possible. Then Alain and Izzy would plan their next move.