Thirty-two
Val held her arms up over her head and stared at the pale green ceiling. She stood in her underwear in the living room of a shotgun house in St. Bernard's Parish, hoping that the thin lace curtain on the window was opaque enough so passersby couldn't see her.
"Hold still, honey baby. I got another pin. I don't want to stick you," Aunt Herbera said. Val felt the plump woman's strong, capable hands gather up another fold of beige muslin and press it against her. "Oh, this is gonna be so pretty!"
"It doesn't look like much," Mai commented. Val lowered her eyes and delivered an annoyed look to her friend, who was curled up in a large, flowered, upholstered armchair under the front window of the small shotgun house. Mai shrugged. "Well, it doesn't. The fabric is dull. You could be wearing a curtain."
Gris-gris's aunt turned with her hands on her ample hips and regarded her with exasperated pity.
"I am drapin', and this is to make the pattern, Miss Mouth. If you never had nothin' fitted to that skinny ass of yours, you had this done on you. Saves fine fabrics from gettin' stretched and ruined. We do all our experimentin' with this." She returned to Val. "What was you thinkin' for neckline, honey? We got to think about expansion of that pretty bosom of yours, what with your little passenger on board, there."
"I've got invitations to parties starting in a week," Val said. She suddenly worried about the time. "Will you be able to finish it by then?"
Aunt Herbera waved a hand. "You can have it two days from now if you want it."
Val felt shy asking about price, but she had become very aware in the last few months that not getting details up front usually meant she would be socked with expenses she didn't expect. "Will that . . . cost extra?"
"Why, no, girl. That's just when I'll be done. You think I'm gonna hold it up for a while to be dramatic? I've got other things I got to finish, but Gris-gris wanted to make certain I took care of you. Okay, then, maybe a little give, 'cause the season'll run until March 10."
Val was relieved. While there were gowns for every shape, size, and age of women in countless shops in New Orleans, she had not found a single decent evening dress for a six-foot-plus pregnant woman that she could afford. She had called Gris-gris to ask for the name of his relative who made clothes. Aunt Herbera was happy to oblige. And she wouldn't cost an arm and a leg, either.
"How many relatives does Gris-gris have?" Val asked. "Just out of curiosity. He seems to have uncles and aunts and cousins for every occasion."
"There's plenty of us," Aunt Herbera said, as she worked. "And there's some who ain't relatives but they is now. You know what that's like."
"I really do," Val said. "Our friends are just about the only family that Griffen and I have. Our parents are dead. Our only blood relative is our uncle."
"Why, you poor thing! You want some of ours, you just ask. We tired of feedin' them."
Val laughed.
"All right, you take a look at that." Aunt Herbera turned her so she was facing the long mirror attached to the wall next to the white-painted fireplace. "That too low-cut? You can stand to wear it because you're so young and fresh."
Mai was right about the muslin being dull in color and texture, but it had transformed in the dressmaker's hands into a work of sculpture. The fabric was pleated over each breast into a strapless bodice. The small folds met in the middle in a woven V that showed the cleft between them. The rest of the muslin fell smoothly down around her body to the rectangular bolt lying at Val's feet from which it had been unrolled. Even in that color, the shape was perfect for her, youthful and, she was almost embarrassed to realize it, devastatingly sexy.
"That's unbelievable," Val breathed. "You did this just by draping?"
"All the time," Aunt Herbera said. She regarded her work critically in the mirror. "It does look good." She reached up to tweak the left side upward under Val's arm.
Val's eyes widened. Something was moving in the fireplace. She didn't worry that something was burning. Even during that winter, it was rarely cold enough to light a real fire. Most people relied on furnaces, most of which had been retrofitted to the old wooden houses. Val could hear the low hiss of baseboard heat. But the ornamental screen attached to a white wooden frame to match the fireplace surround was moving. Perhaps her cat was playing in there? Val was just about to mention it, when the screen went flying violently outward.
It hit Aunt Herbera in the back of the leg. She spun around.
"What was that?" she demanded. A shape rolled out of the chimney and sprang to its feet. It looked around and snarled. It was the size of a teenager, like a wiry human in build, but its hands and feet were too big for it. What looked like gelled-up spiked hair on its head was a mess of big gray-brown scales the size of leaves. Its pointed teeth were made for tearing flesh. Its tongue, Val was horrified to see, was forked. It flicked at her, tasting the air. Bizarrely, to Val's eyes, it wore a brown T-shirt and gray sweatpants, "A clinker! God save us, get out of my house!"
The creature laughed at her. It jumped high and kicked off against the fireplace as if it were the side of a swimming pool. Over their heads it flew, claws out, straight for Mai.
The small Asian woman saw it coming. She was braced in the big armchair long before it got there. She lifted herself on the arms and kicked upward, smacking the clinker in the jaw. It tumbled backward and landed on the floor. In a split second it was up again, ready for another attempt. Mai jumped to her feet and stood hunched over with her hands flat on the air, martial-arts style. Val felt something strong hit her, something invisible. It made the clinker stumble backward.
"Who are you?" Mai demanded. "Who sent you?"
"You know who," it cackled, in a hoarse, gravelly voice like that of a four-pack-a-day smoker. "This is a warnin'! You better back off and stop interferin'!"
Mai's eyes widened, then narrowed again. "I don't take warnings from lowlifes like you!"
"Then how's this instead?" It raised its long hands and spread its fingers out. Flame gushed from the fingertips in thin streams. Mai leaped out of its path and landed near the front door. The curtains started to crackle. Val ran to beat them out with the folds of muslin.
Aunt Herbera snatched up the ornamental fireplace poker and started belaboring the creature over the head from behind. "You get out of my house, you spawn of Satan!"
"Ow! Ow!" the creature bellowed. It ran around the room with the old woman in pursuit. She chased it into a corner and rained blows down on it. "Knock it off, you old sack of bones! That don't even raise a bump!"
"It don't, do it?" Aunt Herbera asked. She raised the rod to hit him again.
The thing straightened up, grinned evilly at her, and grabbed the poker out of her hands. "No." It tied the brass rod in a knot. Aunt Herbera gasped. The creature flung the piece of metal away and pushed her to one side. "Good thing you ain't on my schedule!"
Mai was still on guard. As she got closer, she turned in a circle and let go a roundhouse kick. The clinker fell back, its jaw knocked sideways. It rolled on the floor and came up on its hands and knees. Mai hit it again with another dose of force field. Though the invisible hand pushed Val backward five steps, it had no more effect on the clinker. The creature scooted toward Mai as swiftly as a lizard and wrapped itself around her legs. Mai screamed. She flailed at its head with her fists. The clinker seemed to flow up her body until she was wrapped up in its limbs. Smoke rose from her clothing and hair. Val gawked, horrified. She and Aunt Herbera rushed to try to and peel the clinker away from Mai. Its skin was burning hot. They snatched their hands away, gasping in pain. Aunt Herbera retreated.
Mai fell to her knees. The clinker clung to her, cackling in her ear.