THE HANGED MAN

 

The orphan, Richard Blaine discovers that when things change inside you, things change around you.

THE HANGED MAN

“By the time Louisiana fell underAmerican control, New Orleans had become a city of debauchery and corruptioncamouflaged by decadence.

In other words, my kind ofcity.” 

- Lamashtu Morton

 

It was All Saints Day, and youwould think I could find a little peace in an empty library.

You would be wrong.

“I want my daughter out of thishorrid place!”

I sighed and slipped the Tarotcard of “The Hanged Man” in the book I was reading to mark the spot.

I made sure it was right-side upwhich signified wisdom, circumspection, discernment, trials, sacrifice,

St. Marok’s hadgiven me my share of trials and sacrifice. I could use the rest of the card’sattributes … in spades … to continue with the card analogy.

I fought another sigh. Just whenI thought I had run out of new books to read in the orphanage’s library, Ifound this one:

Julian Jaynes’s The Origin ofConsciousness in the Breakdown of the Bicameral Mind.

I think I had instinctivelystayed away from it due to its cumbersome title.

I had robbed myself. 

The words ofthe book were fascinating: their metaphorical verve, their self-satirizingcharisma, and their lonely intimacy.

If a book was well written, Ialways found it too short.

Mrs. Mayfair tapped a long, redpolished nail on the head of the card’s figure.

“This halo burning brightlyaround the hanged man's head signifies higher learning or enlightenment.”

She sniffed sharply. “Obviously,you have an inflated sense of your own importance.”

“Or a desire to be more than Ipresently am.”

She looked like she would havespat in my face if only she had not been so well bred.

Her two police bodyguards –Heckle and Jeckel I called them mentally – looked bored.

Guard duty for a superciliouswoman must have been dreary for them. 

But having lost his first wife to asloppy mob hitman, Commissioner Mayfair was not about to take any more chanceswith this wife’s safety.

“Frankly, I do not see what mydaughter sees in you.”

“A diligent coworker, ma’am.”

“Oh, puh-lease! At home, it hasbeen one long litany of ‘Richard this’ or ‘Richard that’ until I think I maylose ….”

“Your genteel sophistication?”

I earned the slap she gave me,but it was worth the look on her and the policemen’s faces. It looked as thoughone officer fought a cheer.

At that moment, the library dooropened, and the feisty Miss Myers walked briskly in. “Ah, Mr. Blaine, I see youare having your customary effect on the female populace.”

“Yep. First, Marie Laveau. Now,Cassandra Mayfair.”

“Mrs., whelp!”

Then, my words hit her. “Helenwas not exaggerating, then? You … you both met the legendary Voodoo Queen?”

I nodded, and her face becametruly somber as if she might truly care for Helen, ah, Miss Mayfair.

Mrs. Mayfair rose elegantly withan air of true sadness descending upon her.

“Mr. Blaine, you may have a bitof the prophetic nature of the Hanged Man, after all.”

The cheek she so stinginglyslapped, she now tenderly stroked.

“The Hanged Man, you socavalierly use as a bookmark, is associated with sacrifice. Sometimes, for thegreater good of all, you may have to sacrifice your own desires for the needsof someone else.”

She sighed and turned awaycalling back to me over her shoulder, “Think upon that.”

As the door closed upon her andher chuckling bodyguards, Miss Myers snorted, 

“Or not. Unlike her namesake,Cassandra Mayfair’s predictions are the opposite of true, Mr. Blaine. Much likethe reading for the reversed Hanged Man card.”

I shrugged. “Sacrifice is whatothers ask of you but wouldn’t dream of doing themselves.”

“Exactly, Mr. Blaine. You arelearning.”

“Not nearly fast enough.”

“No. Not at all.”

She smiled knowingly. “You willhave to learn much faster to keep up with Miss Mayfair.”

“Why is everyone so interested inme and Miss Mayfair?”

Her chuckle deepened. “We oldbiddies are romantics at heart. 

Oh, by the by, you have a visitor of the femalepersuasion waiting for permission to enter the library.”

The way she said “femalepersuasion” raised the hackles at the back of my neck, and I said, “Youmean not human female, right?”

“Yes, indeed. She said to tellyou that she was the sister of Dapper Dan, and you would understand.”

“I don’t, but I will be happy tosee her.”

“You would.”

Miss Myers turned to go, but Iasked, “Why did this fall to you?”

“Ah, I am afraid Miss Tethers istaken with the vapors and is recuperating at her home. 

I fear she will not lastlong as headmistress here. She has not the substance for it.”

“She might grow that substance.”

“I have substance, Mr. Blaine.You have substance. All who would survive here must have substance. All she hasis an aversion to uncertainty and challenge.”

“But that’s what all life is,ma’am.”

“Exactly, young sir, which is whyI fear it is not in the cards, to keep with your Tarot analogy, for our MissTethers to long be tethered to this world.”

As she left the library, chucklingat her own joke, she called over her shoulder, “I will send the sister of yourDapper Dan in shortly.”

As it turned out, it was veryshortly.

There was a rustle of a fullVictorian skirt. I looked up and recognized the design from my reading ofhistory books: an exquisite scarlet and gold Charles Worth dress.

I didn’t recognize who waswearing it … or I almost did and didn’t at the same time.

The face framed by long,luxuriant chestnut hair was almost a twin to Dapper Dan’s. Maybe the lips werefuller, more feminine .., the eyes more heavy lidded. But that was it.

I got up and pulled out the chairopposite me for the sister to sit. She stiffened for a moment, then sat downwith a curious grace.

“That is a beautiful dress,” Isaid as I sat down.

“Sister Ameal gave it to me … asan insult and mockery.”

I sighed, “Sister Ameal is ….”

“What she is as I am what I am. Butan insult only cuts if you perceive it as such. I chose to see it as areflection of her own shortcomings not mine.”

I smiled. “Very wise … ah, whatis your name?”

“My racedistinguishes one another by scent. What would you call me, Richard Blaine?”

Withoutthinking about it, I said, “Deborah.”

“Why,might I ask?”

“Deborahwas a prophet, poet, and the only female judge of Israel named in the OldTestament. The only woman to be called a prophet, and the only one described asperforming a judicial function. Deborah is a decisive figure in the defeat ofthe Canaanites.”

“Thatname came to you without thought.”

I tappedthe Hanged Man card I was using as a bookmark.

 “This card is supposed toindicate that the one for whom it is drawn has intuition, divination, and thegift of prophecy. Perhaps it is truer than I believed.”

“Perhaps.I will take your name as the honor you intended it to be not as a precursor ofanything more than that.”

I nodded.“So, to what do I owe the honor you are paying me with this visit?”

Deborahshook her head. 

“No wonder my brother was taken aback by you. My species cansmell if you humans tell the truth or not. You actually meant what you justsaid.”

“I wouldnot insult his memory by telling his sister a lie. Besides, a lie leads a manfrom a grove into a jungle. Why would I do that to myself?”

Deborahpurred deep in her throat. “I could wile away the morning conversingdelightfully with you, but my time is not completely my own.”

I made afist of my right hand. “I would break the chains of your race’s slavery if Icould.”

“But youhave. You and my brother have ended my species indentured captivity with yourfriendship and his translation.”

“I don’tunderstand.”

“Nor doI, but an angelic figure told me the moment you left, and from the way The DarkOne hissed at him, I believed what I was told.”

Mystomach grew cold, and Deborah sighed, “No, it was not The Mayfair. Her time isnot yet come.”

“Whattime?”

“Do youtruly wish to know?”

I didn’t haveto ponder my answer. “No.”

“Wise. Wemust let go of the life we have planned, so as to accept the one that iswaiting for us.”

Her headbowed then lifted, “The Angelic Figure said you and he would meet some timehence across the ocean.”

“I don’tintend on crossing any ocean.”

“Yourfate and mine are not our own.”

I thoughtabout the ongoing war and how soon I would reach draft age.

She kepton. “I came to give thanks for my People for acting as the catalyst for ourfreedom … though we must still run errands for The Dark One in return for our …room and board.”

I startedto speak, but she held up a clawed hand. “Bide. The other reason I came was toinvite you to his mansion for a series of chess games.”

She sawmy face. “Your safety assured he promises.”

“Uh,huh.”

“I do nottrust That One either. But if you refuse, I sense he would act against TheMayfair, for that is the way his mind works.”

“How canI refuse such a gracious invitation?”

“Thefirst will be tomorrow at the Witching Hour.”

“Midnight?”

“No. Whenthe Church worldwide has no services, and thus the gate to Hell is somewhatloosened: the time between 3:00 am and 4:00 am.”

I cocked an eyebrow. "Funtimes await.”

“I thinknot.”