The Returned (13 page)

“That's her,” Joker said as she looked in the window, her eyes deeply sad.

Wraith dragged her finger over the keyhole, weaving together a simple formulation. The locked clicked, and the door opened a hair.

“Damn,” Joker said, impressed. “We are really gonna have to start hanging out more. How are you with bank vaults?”

Wraith opened the door and stepped inside. Once Joker joined her, she shut the door carefully and quietly.

“Hey, Ellie,” Joker said in a soft tone as she sat on the bed, keeping her distance.

Ellie blinked a few times, then turned to Joker. “Marie?”

Joker smiled. “Yeah, darling, it's me. How are you?”

“It's quiet today,” Ellie said and looked away.

Wraith just stood at the door and looked at Ellie. She'd never been that bad, at least not that she could remember. She did understand the phrase though. When she'd had all those souls bound to her, it had been constant noise in her head as they all tried to be heard. Some yelled, some cried, but they were all scared.

“This is my friend, Wraith,” Joker said. “She's come here just to see you.”

Ellie turned and looked at Wraith. Their eyes met, and Wraith had the feeling the girl wasn't looking through her, but into her. As if her very soul was laid bare for the girl to see.

“You know,” Ellie said to her, nodding. “You were on the table too, saw the blood, heard the screams.”

Wraith swallowed and nodded. The memories of the rituals came back to her: countless times being chained to the stone table as the Order bound thirteen fifties to other tables around her in a circle. She could remember the smell of the room, thick with blood and death, and the screams of the fifties as they were tortured and killed.

“Yeah,” Wraith said. “I know.”

“Did they fix you?” Ellie asked.

“Fix me?” Wraith asked and took a few steps forward.

“They tried to fix me,” she said. “But I was too broken, and they didn't have enough glue to put me back together. Like Humpty Dumpty, all the Solomon couldn't put me back together again.”

Wraith and Joker exchanged a look, and then Wraith got closer, kneeling in front of Ellie.

“Who are all the Solomon?” Wraith asked.

Ellie narrowed her eyes. “Secret seven,” she said. “Magic from heaven. They sneak and fix and hide with tricks.”

Wraith looked at Joker, but she just shrugged.

“Did they let you go?” Wraith said. “Or did you get away?”

“Do you have any licorice?” Ellie asked Joker. “I love licorice.”

“No, sorry, darling,” Joker said and gently put her hand on Ellie's leg. “I'll bring you some next time though. I promise.”

Ellie frowned, then turned to look at Wraith again. She narrowed her eyes and leaned in close. Wraith resisted the urge to look away or pull back. Ellie leaned in closer and closer until their noses almost touched, then she lifted her hand and touched Wraith's face.

“You're almost empty now,” she said.

Wraith knew what that meant too. At one time she'd had dozens, maybe hundreds of souls bound to her. Now it was just her and maybe some traces of Shadow, SK, and Fritz that they'd left behind. She just nodded again.

Ellie ran her fingers through Wraith's hair. “I like this color,” she said, smiling. “Blue like an angel. Are you an angel?”

“No,” Wraith said before she could even think about it.

“You could be,” Ellie said. “Would you like to be my blue angel?”

Wraith couldn't help but smile. “Sure, I'd like that.”

Ellie looked away and frowned. “Oh, you need to go now.”

“What? Why?” Joker asked.

“Today is chocolate pudding day,” Ellie said.

“Shit, lunch,” Joker said.

“No, silly,” Ellie said. “Chocolate pudding.”

“Thank you, Ellie,” Wraith said.

Ellie threw her arms around Wraith and hugged. “You'll come back and see me, right, blue angel?”

“I promise,” Wraith said. “And I'll bring Marie with me. Would you like that?”

Ellie nodded. “And you'll bring licorice?”

“You got it,” Joker said. “I love you, sweetness.”

Ellie smiled more. “I love you too.”

Wraith looked at Joker, but the girl didn't meet her eyes. She took the hint, and they both went to the door. Wraith worked her magic, literally, and unlocked it. As they rounded a corner, they heard voices and the sound of slightly squeaky wheels as a cart rolled down the hall they'd just left. Without a word, they made their way quickly and quietly to the nearest usable door and stepped through.

They stepped out of a men's room door in a bar on Bourbon Street. The place already had a couple of patrons, who gave them a long look as they made for the exit. They walked in silence for several minutes.

“You were the witness, weren't you?” Wraith finally asked.

Joker didn't look at her; she just nodded.

“There was nothing you could've done,” Wraith said.

“I just stood there,” Joker said. “The first time I'd gone and gotten us something to eat. I got back just in time to see her vanish. I ran to our spot, but she was gone. I cried for days.” She turned to Wraith and wiped tears from her eyes. “The second time, she'd gotten impatient and left while I was talking to Benji.” She shook her head. “I caught up with her and saw them grab her. I should've done something, but I was so scared, and I couldn't believe what I was seeing. I just watched it happen.”

“It wasn't your fault,” Wraith said again. It felt strange to be on this side of the conversation, but it also gave her a new perspective on her own past and deeds.

Joker shrugged. “Maybe, but it doesn't feel that way.”

“I know,” Wraith said. “But trust me, it's true.”

“You should be honored though,” Joker said, forcing a smile.

“Why?”

“She asked you to be her blue angel,” Joker said. “She loves the Blue Angels. We went every year to see them.”

“I don't know who that is,” Wraith said. “Is it a band?”

Joker laughed. “No, it's a group of navy planes,” she said. “What do you call it, an aerial squadron? They perform every year at the Joint Reserve Base. Fly around performing tricks and stuff. It's actually pretty cool.”

Wraith just stared at her as something clicked in her brain.

“What is it?” Joker asked. “What did I say?”

“This base is in New Orleans?” Wraith asked.

“Yeah, about half hour from here,” Joker said. “Unless you take the bus, which we always did, then it's a couple hours.” She looked at Wraith. “For you it's like two seconds, right?”

“I'm going to get Ellie so much licorice,” Wraith said.

“A
re you okay?” Caitlin asked as they walked down Bourbon, already filling with people in various stages of inebriation.

Edward squeezed her hand. “I'm worried,” he said. “I'm worried about what I might've gotten Henry into.”

“You didn't get him into anything,” Caitlin said. “If anything,
we
are helping him. If we hadn't gotten involved, he'd have a big hole in his memory.” She shook her head. “Honestly, I'm more worried about Wraith.”

“I'm worried about her too,” he said. “I just didn't make it that far down my list.”

“She's a good kid,” she said. “A bit of a smart-ass, but that's just part of being a teenager.”

“And the victim of unimaginable abuse,” he said. “The fact she's managing as well as she is, is a testament to her strength.”

Caitlin nodded. “Strength is something she's got in spades. She's been doing good looking after herself for a while now.” Caitlin stopped and turned Edward so they were face-to-face. “I'd prefer to see her in a nice, loving home myself, but that's something she has to find in her own time.”

“I don't have to like it,” Edward said.

“No, you don't,” she said and kissed him. “Neither do I.”

They resumed their walk, and Caitlin's thoughts returned to Wraith. She was almost tempted to offer the girl a place in her and Edward's home, but Caitlin knew that was a bad idea on several levels. The only thing she could do, that anyone could do, was be there for the girl when she needed it.

When she looked up from her musings, Caitlin saw a police officer and thought maybe the cop was watching her. Before her paranoia could get the best of her though, the cop moved and stopped someone a few steps behind her.

“Now it's my turn to ask if you're okay,” Edward said.

“If they were really government agents,” Caitlin said, “that means people know the truth, people in power, and decisions are being made with that knowledge.”

“I think we can assume that's the case,” he said. “I wonder how much they know and how high it goes.”

“I wonder how it is that nothing, not even conspiracy theory rumors, have leaked out.”

Edward smiled a little. “I think the nature of the information helps in the disinformation front.”

“What do you mean?”

“It's one thing to learn the NSA is tracking our phone calls,” he said. “It's another to that faeries and magic are real and that the government has a group that handles it.”

“I see your point.” She smiled. “I wonder if England knows too. Do you think there's a real Ministry of Magic?”

Edward laughed. “Come on, Hermione, we're here.”

Caitlin looked up and saw an old building, which wasn't saying much since the entire Quarter was made up of old buildings. But this place looked weathered and worn, which was probably intentional. A hand-painted sign, a contrast to the neon and lighted signs that most places on Bourbon sported, read House of Voodoo.

They stepped up and into the shop. It was small, smaller than it looked from the outside, and packed with merchandise for sale. There were bookshelves on one wall and masks covering all the others. Candles, rag dolls, pouches, statues of saints, and other oddities sat on shelves in every available space. Necklaces and still more masks hung from the ceiling, requiring Edward to duck his head occasionally. Caitlin didn't have that problem.

When she spotted a collection of jars filled with herbs and, well, she didn't know what, she couldn't help but think of the faerie market in Tír na nÓg. It was strange the way things that seemed so different were actually pretty similar. A couple of other people, obviously fellow tourists, perused the shop. Caitlin and Edward pretended to shop as well until the other tourists bought a couple of shirts and departed.

“You two need any help?” a spry woman in her late seventies, dressed all in white, said with a matronly smile.

Caitlin realized they were right in front of the jars and pouches.

“Y'all looking for a charm?” the woman asked, then smiled. “I can tell you two don't need no love magic.”

“Actually,” Caitlin said, “we're looking for Mama Toups.”

“Well, you found her, darling,” the woman said. “What can I do for you?”

“My name is Edward,” he said. “This is Caitlin. We, um, heard about the gris-gris.”

“ 'Fraid you're going to need to be more specific, child,” Mama Toups said. “I make lots of gris-gris for lots of people.”

“These are the ones you made for the slingers,” Caitlin said.

Mama Toups narrowed her eyes and looked from Caitlin to Edward. Her hand went to a strand of beads she wore around her neck, and she muttered something under her breath.

“You're a changeling,” she said to Caitlin. “Or you was. Made your choice a long time ago, but you still got the fae in your blood.”

Unbidden, Caitlin thought of her father. She didn't remember much of him; he'd died when she was very young. It wasn't until Fiona's kidnapping that Caitlin had learned the truth of her own heritage. Her father has been a Dawn Court noble and had fallen in love with Caitlin's mother. Unfortunately, Teagan, queen of the Dawn Court, called him back to Tír na nÓg. He'd refused, unwilling to leave the mortal woman he loved. That refusal, and continued beckoning, had slowly eaten away at him until he'd died. The memories were fewer and fuzzy, but she could still remember him singing to her and his beautiful blue eyes.

Caitlin came back to herself and nodded. “Through my father.”

Mama Toups nodded, then turned to Edward and nodded. “You're a magi.”

“Yes, ma'am,” Edward said.

Mama Toups took his hand and examined his palm. “You're a good one, stay in the light, but you were touched by darkness. Looks like only once.”

Edward looked away.

She let go of his hand and looked him in the eye. “But you don't need no gris-gris from Mama. You can protect yourself just fine. I see that clear too.”

Caitlin saw Edward was uncomfortable, and she couldn't blame him. It pained her to think it, but she was glad Mama Toups didn't take her hand and comment about her liaison with the king of the Dusk Court.

“We're not here for that,” Caitlin said, eager to shift this train of thought. “Have you heard about the, um, well, zombies?”

Mama Toups went to the front door, closed and locked it, then came back. “Why you asking about that? It's some mighty dark hoodoo.”

“We're trying to find out who's behind it,” Edward said. “Do you know?”

She shook her head. “I don't. Making a zombie is nothing to play with. I don't deal with the black magic, and none of the other mambos or houngans do either.” She looked from Edward to Caitlin and back. “You'd best avoid that kind of magic. It'll lead to nothing but bad coming back at ya.”

“I know that all too well,” Edward said. “We're trying to stop them. I think it's possible the person behind it is being controlled, or at least influenced, by that same darkness that touched me. I was lucky. I was able to beat it back, but it was a near thing.”

Mama nodded and smiled at Caitlin. “I'm guessing you had the right reason to come back to the light.”

“And he's a genuinely good person,” Caitlin said.

“That always helps too,” she said and smiled, but it faded quickly. “But not always. Someone in a dark place can find the dark talking to them, and it's good at saying what you need to hear.”

Caitlin couldn't help but think of Wraith and wondered what the darkness said to her when she was alone. She made a mental note to reach out more to her.

“Is there anyone you know of who's in a dark place,” Edward asked, “and has the ability to pull something like this off?”

Mama let out a long sigh. “Child, there's lots of people in dark places. I see them every day.”

“It's been going on for a while,” Caitlin said. “Six months or so.”

Mama nodded. “I know. It was right after that mess in the Bywater. We could feel it building, like a storm on the horizon. That was when we—the kings and queens, I mean—got with the First House and started figuring how we could protect them that couldn't protect themselves.”

“And no one ever figured out who's behind it?” Edward asked.

“This city is good at hiding its shames,” Mama said. “First we just heard rumors about someone making zombies, but we didn't believe it. Like I said, it's not an easy thing: Ain't but a few of us who could do it. By the time we knew for sure it wasn't just rumor, we had our hands full with scared peoples. Them number men started showing up around that time too.”

“Number men?” Edward asked. “You mean the agents?”

“Government folk in dark suits,” Mama said. “Go grabbing kids off the street, and when they turn up again, don't remember nothing of what happened.”

Caitlin and Edward shared a look. Caitlin fought to ignore the growing knot in her stomach.

“Is there anything you can tell us?” Edward asked. “You've got to have some theories or ideas about who's doing this.”

“I do,” Mama said. “But none of us could ever find the one behind it. We tried all kinds of magic to track it down. Old Man Croix even had some blood from one of them revenants.” She shook her head. “Didn't do us no good though.”

“We might be able to help,” Edward said.

Caitlin was glad he didn't elaborate.

Mama gave him another hard look, obviously measuring him up. “Okay. I think you're looking for someone hurting bad, so bad they might not even know it.”

“Why do you say that?” Caitlin asked.

“When you hurting, that's when the darkness can get you,” she said, then shrugged. “I wish I could tell you more, give you an address even, but I ain't got one.”

“That's okay,” Edward said. “Thank you for your time and for being honest with us.”

“And for helping those kids,” Caitlin said.

Mama smiled. “Mama has to look after the kids.”

Caitlin smiled and nodded, then she and Edward turned to leave.

“Now, you hold up just a minute,” Mama said.

They turned and watched Mama go behind her counter.

“You come on over here,” she said. “I'm not letting you leave without a blessing, a little something to help you along.”

She set a wooden box on the counter. It was old, the wood weathered and gray, and covered in painted symbols. Mama took out two leather pouches, then returned the box.

“Come on now,” she said. “Don't make an old woman keep walking back and forth.”

“What is it?” Caitlin asked.

“It's a gris-gris, child,” Mama said. “Not for protection, but for luck. You keep them close, in a pocket or around your neck.”

“Thank you,” Caitlin said. “That's very kind of you. What do we owe you?”

“Finding who's doing this and stopping them,” Mama said.

Caitlin watched intently as the old woman lit a candle in an altar and poured some clear liquid into an empty glass in front of a statue. She waved her hands over the glass and candle, almost singing something Caitlin couldn't understand.

When it was done, Mama walked back to Edward, who towered over her. “Bend down, now. I can't reach all the way up there.”

Edward looked at Caitlin. She couldn't help but smile and shrug.

He did as he was asked. Mama put hands on each side of his head and sang some more. Caitlin felt the pressure in the room build, and the hairs on her arms and neck stood up. It felt just like when Edward had summoned an oíche named Justin in an attempt to find where Fiona had been taken. What had initially struck Caitlin as a nice but empty gesture now felt anything but.

“Your turn, darling,” Mama said to Caitlin.

Edward stepped back and Caitlin took his place. She didn't have to bend down, she and Mama being of a similar height, and the process was repeated. This time it felt different. Caitlin still felt the pressure, but she also felt, well . . .
lucky
was the only word for it. It was like the same confidence you feel when you're making a bet you know you'll win.

“Go in peace,” Mama said.

Caitlin and Edward slipped their gris-gris into a pocket, said their thanks again, and made their way out.

“That was interesting,” Edward said once they were a few blocks away.

“I wish we'd learned more,” Caitlin said. “But I've got a good feeling. Maybe that blessing means that Wraith and Henry learned something.”