Augusta Fern's Blog - Posts Tagged "errands"

I leave the club; Radiohead’s “You” fading behind me as I headed toward the bayou. If I were to possibly be faced with battle tonight I needed to be sure I was fed. Hovering over the swampland toward Penelope’s the air was dense and heavy almost pushing me from my flight. The wildlife of the Mississippi seemed lucid in its symphony the closer I drew. I encountered a few pairs of glowing eyes from the alligator population but overall the swamp seemed empty tonight.

I crept up the broken stairs listening intently for any indication that Penelope was entertaining guests but the house was silent. A single lamp shone through a back window in the kitchen as I stepped inside; following the glow to where the priestess keeps my rations I surveyed my surroundings. All looked as it normally did in Penelope’s house but the last few times I had come by she wasn't here.
I opened the deep freezer to retrieve a few bags for my night’s assignment. I take enough for me and Estella, although knowing her she will refuse, but I would offer just the same. I grab four bags of blood, donated by a willing human in a clinic or hospital, packing two bags on either side of my cargo pants pockets. As I buttoned the left side pocket and prepared to leave I hear the sound of the birds that inhabit this area, their night time songs grow increasingly louder.

Waterfowl, wading birds, shorebirds and white pelicans began to call out as a tiny vessel of a boat docked at Penelope’s pier. I stepped through the door to see the tiny caramel Priestess tie up the dingy and step onto the dock; a small bag hanging from her arm.

“Madam.” I said quietly bowing as she turned to look up the twisted stairs at me.

“I thought I smelled death.” she commented, smiling.

She slowly ascended the steps rubbing my arm as she past me to enter the house once inside she turned back to face me.
“Coming or going?”

“Going. Assignment in the Quarter.”
“Get what you need?”

“And a little extra.”

“Be careful.” She called as I closed the door.

Speaking to Penelope in fragments is the easiest way. She doesn't want to know my business and I don’t want to know hers. We have an understanding that has proved sufficient for three decades. Priestess Penelope is a sevite, in Haitian Creole, or vodouist (voodooist) a practitioner of Haitian voodoo-vodou. Believing in a distant and unknowable creator or God, Bondye, vodouists direct their worship toward spirits subservient to Bondye, called Iwa as Bondye does not meddle in human affairs. Vodouists create a relationship with the Iwa through offering set upon personal alters, thee objects are to be seen as devotional. The objects are often used during the gatherings and ceremonies where the participants play ritual music and dance, on occasion spirit possession. The religion originated in the 18th century in a French slave colony of Saint Domingue when African religion was suppressed and slaves were forced to convert to Christianity.

Penelope was born into such a slave colony and even though her family was being forced to convert to the Master’s religion, they secretly taught their daughter the ways of their religion. Through practice and ritual Penelope became a revered member in her community as a full-fledged Priestess or Mambos. Said to have a direct connection to the Iwa, Penelope’s possessions during ritual became dangerous. It seemed as though the evil spirits of dead ancestors were trying to come through while the young priestess received divination from the deities.

She is also considered to be a bokor or a sorcerer that can cast spells upon command; these practitioners tend to travel on the dark side of the religion. However Penelope keeps it from consuming her which has granted her a high regard in the community.

My haven was darker than usual and I flicked the overhead lights that I fixed to illuminate the little corner of the abandoned warehouse. I heard something move in the distant shadow, I stood very still waiting for the being to emerge. I hear a series of heavy footsteps and through the darkness into the light stood Estella, her attire much different from what I left her in at the club. The only remaining articles of clothing from her club outfit were her boots, which were authentic Nazi storm-trooper issue from WWII.

Estella had traded the school girl reform for a black fitted Kevlar body suit; strapped to her back in a V above her head were two Katana swords. Her two curly pigtails were now a single bone-straight ponytail draped neatly through the V resting on her left breast. One of her delicate white hands rested on her hip and the other clutched a large duffle bag.

I didn't notice at the club but her fingernails had been painted black. She looked like a black backwards R with red hair the way she stood in the spotlight staring at me. The Queen had insisted she accompany me, sooner than later, relieving Estella from duty early.

“You like?” She said smiling as she dropped the bag reached behind her and pulled out both blades to reveal the mated black metal; jokingly taking a battle stance. I couldn't help but stop what I was doing and smile at her, but I quickly resumed my routine.

“Aye, very much”. Taking in the deadly beauty before me.

“Glad to see you came prepared, we may need it…what’s in the bag?” I trailed off, setting down the supplies I picked up from Penelope’s. I gathered my response to Estella’s question was not what she expecting. But I continued, “I picked up a few necessities myself.” I said as I passed by her to go down to my arsenal and make selections, the dirks may come in handy this evening.

When I returned to the lit area she had returned the blades to their home and returned to standing in the same position as before. I ran my hand along the backside of her hip around to grip her waist; pulling her to my side I kissed her cheek. “And you look, delicious.” I whispered, my lips grazing her earlobe.

I could feel her tighten in adoration before she said, “As far as the answer to your question about my bag. I know you aren't into the most modern weaponry, but I really dig guns. I guess it’s the southern girl in me, my daddy used to let me shoot when I was young.” She scoffed, “My mother hated it.”

I nodded to her indicating I was listening while I gathered the rest of my supplies. She became quiet for a moment and then asked, “What is your fascination with this woman?”

I wasn't expecting this and for the second time, in so many days but in a different way, a vampire had caught me by surprise. I stood silently looking down at my hands clasping the remaining daggers I hadn't yet placed on my person when glanced upward to meet her glorious green eyes. “I,” I hesitated. “I honestly don’t know, maybe it has something to do with you”. My tone harsh and clipped as the words left my mouth.
Estella sensing my frustration, sighed heavily as she bent down to grab her black duffle bag and said, “Let’s go”.
On our way further into the Quarter we discussed our position and as we strolled undetected to human eyes, the air became thick and a faint smell of smoke penetrated the spring air becoming stronger and more oppressive the closer Estella and I got.

My guts wrench when I discern where the smoke is coming from. Babet’s studio, gallery, and home; Scarlet Henri, is on fire. Without a word spoken Estella and I increase our pace and I feel like someone has run me through with a claymore. Red, Orange and Blue lights illuminating the billowing smoke as emergency crews do their duty, scrambling about. Some with hoses, others, axes.

I am frantic, leaving Estella’s side I anxiously search the mass of Black uniforms, Yellow Jackets and finally I can’t help but smile inwardly to myself, the relief is bewildering when I see EMT assessing the well-being of Babet and her children. My still beating heart pounds hard my chest at the sight of her luxuriously curly black cherry locks and tear soaked eyes, I feel sick from the jolt but gratefully, I am renewed.

Babet, beautiful, sultry, enchanting is standing on the curb of the street at the end of her alley driveway wrapped in a fire retardant blanket, peeking out beneath are kicking chubby baby legs and pale blue silk pajama pants, and bare feet. My body resonates at the sight.
Her daughter stands behind her, resting her head on her mother’s shoulder. Thick tears streak both their faces as they watched the thick black smoke trickle over the neighboring buildings into the atmosphere.

A petite policewoman attempts to console them, finally giving Babet her contact card. I turned to seek out Estella only to find her standing behind me taking in the sorrow of her kin. Her brow had drawn down and her jaw clenched as she focused on all the people surrounding Babet and her children. Her eyes closed and I wasn’t aware of Estella range but she seemed confident as she attempted to rewind the event prior to the fire. After a few moments she let out a silent grunt as if she’s been holding her breath and asked, “Can we get any closer?”

“Yes, my original approach didn't include her building being on fire,” I said and we moved to a position where we could stash the big black bag. Estella and I walked along the partition wall between Babet’s building conglomeration and the row behind it.

Estella stopped as I took a few more steps then I too ceased my stride waiting for her instruction when she said, “It’s still in the area”.

I jerk my attention from Estella to do a visual check, also taking a big whiff of the air for scent confirmation of the creature that attacked me; I don’t detect anything familiar and return to Estella who had ceased to speak upon my deficit.
“It’s watching. Like we are; but it didn't cause the fire, I can’t see what did. Probably faulty wiring, I mean these buildings are ancient.” Her tone cautiously sarcastic.