Southern Spirits (27 page)

‘She doesn't give a damn about you, Jack.'

All eyes turned to Tara, who continued, ‘This is about fulfilling a generations-old pact. She wants the mystery solved. And she won't let go until it's done.'

In the main carriages of Belle, the collective passengers and staff, ignorant of the situation in the front of the train, enveloped by
heat and red light and the throbbing waves of the guitarist at the peak of his energies, danced and bobbed and fucked in a collective mass, a bacchanal of energy that fed the force which drove the train into the night.

Unstoppable.

They'd returned to the reception carriage to plan their next move – all except for Wheeler, who sat alone in one corner, content to look more insufferable now than before.

‘Our own phone can't seem to get a signal now, and we can't get to any of the phones in Wheeler's office,' Nathan was saying. ‘Maybe we can break a window here, and I can climb outside to the rest of the train?'

‘That would be too dangerous, Agent Ames,' Ben warned. ‘We're going too fast, in the dark, in a storm.'

‘Si, Hound. You're not Bruce Willis.'

‘Bruce Willis climbed out of buildings, Cat, it was Steven Seagal who climbed outside of trains.'

‘Steven Seagal
es un cabrón estúpido.
' Cat's eyes locked with Wheeler's. The man was definitely hiding more than he had told, although she was convinced that, as bizarre as it was, Belle had indeed taken control of itself – herself? – though her brain had started to turn to porridge when Tara had started flinging about technobabble such as ‘psychokinetic manifestations' and ‘poltergeist-level electromagnetic fields'.

‘We might find something in the kitchens to get the safety doors open,' Nathan suggested.

‘Like what, a can opener against the inch-thick steel?'

‘Why not just wait it out?' Hannah asked, sounding a little fearful now. ‘There's limited fuel, and the rail authorities can sideline us, once they fail to contact us. Belle won't . . . crash us, will she?'

‘If Belle is really Mamselle Belagrís, then she's one of the Guédé loa,' Tara warned, looking wary. ‘They're spirits of the dead. They have nothing to fear.'

Memories of Val and her charm, and that vision of the spirit driving the train, returned to Cat. ‘Tara, if this concerns magic – voodoo – I need to know more about it than what I've already picked up from the midnight movies.'

‘Well then, throw away what you've already picked up, because it'll be false. We don't make zombies or voodoo dolls or curses. When we invoke the spirits, it's for harmony and peace, birth and rebirth, increased abundance of luck, material happiness, health, protection –'

‘Tara,' Cat interjected, trying to be patient, ‘I accept that the majority of believers are decent, intelligent people. But we need specific information.'

The girl nodded in concession. ‘
Voudon
is the oldest religion on Earth, one that travelled from Africa in the hearts and minds of those slaves transported to the New World. Here it blended with the shamanist beliefs of Native Americans, and added elements from Catholicism to appease the slave owners. It recognises one distant Creator, and a pantheon of angel-like spirits known as the loa, who act as intermediaries between the Creator and man, as they are ancestral and archetypal embodiments of the forces of nature and the human psyche. There are many families of loa, all with their own personalities and powers, rituals and symbols.'

‘And Belagrís is a member of the Guédé loa?'

‘Yes. The Guédé loa as a family are loud, rude, very sexual and, well, fun.'

‘Fun!' Nathan exclaimed wryly.

‘Yes. They like to party. No wonder she likes it here.'

‘What do you know about Belagrís herself?'

‘Not much, to be honest, apart from the fact that she's a
New World spirit, created by those born into slavery in America. You have to understand, there's hundreds of loa, sought for many purposes. Earthly families powerful in magic can “adopt” them as guardian spirits, and the service can last for generations.'

‘A family,' Cat echoed. ‘Like Val's.'

‘But Belagrís has been all but forgotten. I've never even seen her vévé.'

‘Her what?' Nathan asked.

‘Her symbol, like an astral formula. Every loa has his or her own individual vévé. Reproduction of the astral forces represented by the vévés obliges the loa to descend to Earth.'

‘You've already seen it,' Cat assured her, indicating the crosslike figures on the walls, the Southern Spirits logo. ‘My sources confirmed it.'

Everyone looked around, as if seeing them for the first time. Cat looked over at Wheeler. ‘The name, the Southern Spirits logo, all connected to Belagrís. You used these deliberately, to accentuate her power.
Idiota.
' She turned back to Tara. ‘Is there a spell you can work, a prayer, to appease her somehow?'

The girl shook her head. ‘I've tried. She's not listening.'

Cat was afraid of that. She looked to the men. ‘Perhaps we can disable the electricals somewhere?'

Nathan looked to Ben, considering. Cat left them to it, not expecting any success – stopping this force was going to take more than just unplugging a few wires. She approached Wheeler, sitting close beside him to speak quietly. ‘Belle wants the mystery solved. To do that, we need access to the right hotspots, though she's blocked us from most of the rest of the train. That suggests there's a hotspot I haven't experienced, where the answer lies. You know this train better than anyone else. Where is it, Jack?'

He regarded her. ‘And I'm going to assist you, and expedite my arrest? Thanks, my Latin beauty, but no thanks.'

Cat eyed him, understanding where this was going. ‘What do you want?'

Wheeler glanced past her to the others, then leant in closer, his voice a murmur. ‘You and I go to the secret hotspot, the place where Val and Enrique were killed. We experience what they did, discover what happened, Belle's satisfied, she stops – and you drop the charges about the coin against me.'

Cat smirked. ‘You've had access to that area all this time, and you haven't solved it yourself, or brought someone else along to help you?'

‘I've tried, darling. I've not found anyone as adept at experiencing the visions as you, anyone Belle has liked as much as you.'

‘And then you expect me to just lie there and let you fuck me and get away with your crimes?'

‘It seems fair. You'll not let me get away with the coin, will you?'

‘And you definitely know where this hotspot is?'

‘Cat,' Nathan approached. ‘What's going on?'

She stayed focused on Wheeler, who took on a serious, nononsense aspect as he responded, ‘It's pretty strong, since it's where the couple died. The few times I brought a perceptive female there, they tended to, ah, react badly to what they felt, and became unresponsive.' He looked her over. ‘You, however, should be strong enough not to give in to your, shall we say, feminine weaknesses?'

She pictured how he'd look with a broken nose, before turning back to a still-watching, still-concerned Nathan. ‘I'm taking Wheeler elsewhere. He has information he'll give to me alone.' Before he could reply, she pressed her forefinger softly against his lips. ‘I can handle him, and by myself, this time. Trust me.'

It took some visible effort on his part, but Nathan only replied, ‘Be careful, Catalina.'

‘Keep everyone here.' Her fingers lingered, and she smiled, proud that he didn't seem to notice what she'd taken from his jacket pocket.

Cat followed Wheeler into the latter half of the kitchens carriage, to one of the pantries and, as soon as he had escorted her inside its cramped confines, she spotted the incongruity. ‘Too small in here. It should be bigger.'

‘Give the lady a cigar. No one else has ever noticed.' He reached behind one of the shelves, unlatched something, and the entire wall swivelled on a hidden axis in the middle, like some passageway entrance in a mystery-novel mansion. The space beyond appeared much like any of the other berths on the train: narrow bed, old-fashioned furniture, a ceiling fan and small pictures on the walls. Cat recognised the decor from the period of Val and Enrique. Wheeler stepped inside. ‘It was better to keep this section hidden, in case anyone accidentally discovered the hotspot and was troubled by it.'

‘And in case they also learnt where the coin was, right, Jack?'

‘Don't get all high and mighty with me, sweetie. I'm losing out on an eight-million dollar deal, and my chance to get away from this . . . thing.'

‘What a way to refer to Belle,' Cat mocked. ‘After your spirited defence of her during this trip.'

‘Like flesh and blood women, after a while she becomes smothering, overpowering. Take off your jacket.'

After a moment, she did so, setting it on an adjacent chair. ‘I hope you were going to spend some of that money on therapy to deal with your issues regarding women.'

He was removing his waistcoat, and his boots. ‘I have no
issues, Agent Montoya. I know what to do to please women, and to get them to please me. And I know what to do to keep them from getting too clingy, possessive. As they inevitably do.'

She grunted. ‘So much for your graveside confession about envying Enrique's passion, his love. What now?'

He reached into a cabinet and withdrew a pair of silver handcuffs. ‘Put your hands behind your back.'

‘
Besame el culo.
'

He held up the cuffs like a necklace. ‘We have to recreate the conditions as they were fifty years ago. Come on, we both know you're no stranger to bondage.'

Reluctantly, she walked towards him, her hands clenched into fists as they moved behind her back. She felt him draw up, felt the cool metal clamp around her wrists with a treble click. Her arms gave a reflexive tug to test the amount of give.

It wasn't much. ‘This doesn't mean I trust you, Jack –'

Before she could finish, Jack caught her by the arm, twisted her around to face him, and kissed her full on the mouth, his other hand clasping the back of her head. He pressed his lips down on hers and plunged his tongue into the warm wetness between them. Cat was taken by surprise, but recovered quickly, sucking on his tongue as she felt the same electric sensations she had experienced in the sling room, the heat of passion quickly drowning out her other feelings.

‘F– Fuck,' she muttered, her lips moving against his, the words almost impaled on his tongue. ‘I'm –'

‘You're going nowhere,' he informed her as he pulled back, moving his lips down to her neck. ‘Except where I want. Doing what I want.'

The feeling of his lips and hot tongue made her throw her head back, tightening the sinews in her throat. That made it easier for Wheeler to fasten his mouth on them, sucking the
skin in as the hand at the back of her head grabbed her by the hair.

He took his hand away from her arm and fumbled with the front of her blouse, trying to unbutton it before losing what little patience he had and tearing at it. Her breasts heaved from the frilled tops of her white lace bra, and he was reaching around and unclasping her bra, before returning and freeing her breasts entirely from the cups. He dropped his mouth to each one, taking them in turn, sucking at her flesh, concentrating on the nipple, rubbing it against the edges of his teeth.

Cat's arousal grew, her whole body quivering, and though his actions were expected, the intensity was pushing her closer to the edge, making her crave this ravishment. As his teeth created a delicious torture on her nipples, twin flames of pain and pleasure combining, indistinguishable, her sex seemed to catch fire as well.

Wheeler drew back and dropped to his knees, looking up at her as he reached up under her skirt and over the tops of her stockings to find the sides of her panties. With a wanton grunt, he yanked them down, dragging them to her ankles, only letting her step out of one leg band.

He smiled up at her as his hand returned to her sex, the smile broadening further as his finger stroked her bush, his other hand steadying her at the small of her back. His fingers dipped along her slit and sunk shallowly into her folds.

Cat gasped and swayed, as his forefinger moved to the crest of her sex, finding her hard, swollen clit. Cat felt it throb and pulse like a signal, seeking attention. It made her moan as he nudged against it. Behind her, her hands struggled between each other.

Wheeler sensed her apparent fighting. ‘Save your energy. You're mine. And you're not getting away – owww!'

Before he knew it, he was pinned face down on the bed, one arm twisted behind him, as Cat straddled him, freeing her remaining wrist with the universal key she'd taken from Nathan's jacket. ‘Come on, Jack, you think I'm stupid? That I wouldn't be ready for something like this?' When he struggled some more, Cat put a little more pressure on his arm. ‘Calm down,
nino.
You're going nowhere, except where I want. Doing what I want.'

Wheeler turned his head and looked up at her, panting. ‘Lemme . . . go . . . I don't . . . play this.'

‘No?' Cat had both his wrists cuffed together now, and turned him onto his back, then straddled his groin by rucking her skirt up until it was around her waist. She took her time slipping her breasts back into her bra and refastening it, and then inspecting the rips on her blouse. ‘You're paying for this one, Jack. Anyway, where was I? Oh yes.' She ground slowly onto his groin, genuinely enjoying the pressure against her bare clit, sometimes leaning forwards as if to kiss him, her voice a sultry murmur almost lost to the sounds of the train wheels. ‘I bet your body can play just fine like this.'

Wheeler, darkening with this blow to his masculine pride, began struggling again, until she bent forwards, gripped him by the chin, and warned, ‘You keep fighting me, and I'll keep you on edge for hours, with no relief. You know I can do it. Is that what you want?'