The only exceptions I’ve ever met are the sicky-sweets at the Home.”
“I don’t understand. Who are the sicky-sweets?”
“Never mind.”
They covered 20 yards before Eleanore spoke again.
“I want to know the truth. Are you going to hurt me?”
“Only if you don’t cooperate. I’m fixin’ to take you to Jumbo.”
“Who?”
“You’ll see. He’ll know what to do with you.”
“Where is he?”
“That’s what I’d like to know. We’ve got to find him and my other friends.”
“You have friends?”
“Keep it up, lady.”
“I’m just trying to make sense of what you say. It’s not easy. You talk in riddles.”
“Don’t strain your brain on my account.”
Eleanore expelled a sharp breath in frustration. “You’re impossible. Do you know that?”
“You sound like my wife,” Lynx said, and nearly fell when the woman halted so abruptly that she wrenched on his arm and caused him to stumble. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” he demanded angrily.
“Did I hear you correctly? Are you married?” Eleanore inquired, her features reflecting her shock at the revelation.
“Yeah. I’ve got a main squeeze. Her name is Melody. So what?”
Eleanore roved her eyes from his head to his toes. “But you’re a—a—whatever you are? How could any woman marry you?”
A shadow seemed to descend on Lynx and his countenance hardened.
“Oh. Is that it. You can’t imagine how a freak like me could have a wife?”
“I didn’t mean to imply—” Eleanore began, but the hybrid never gave her a chance to finish the sentence.
“Screw you, bimbo,” Lynx stated harshly, and resumed walking toward the forest.
“I don’t think you’re a freak,” Eleanore declared. “But you have to admit you’re different.”
Lynx stalked forward without replying.
“Listen to me, damn you!”
“Save your breath, bigot.”
Eleanore dug in her heels and tried to wrench her wrist loose. “I am not a bigot!” she protested. “I can’t help it if I don’t know how to relate to you without hurting your oversensitive feelings. I’ve never met anything like you before. The only other mutations I’ve seen are those from the swamps, those the Baron has collected at his estate. He puts them in cages and gets his kicks by tormenting them, by poking them with red-hot irons and whipping them. Things like two-headed black bears or bobcats with three eyes. He’s the one who can’t stand freaks.”
Lynx digested the information inscrutably. “The Baron does this, huh?”
“Yeah. And lots worse.”
“Then I’ll have to pay him a visit before I head back to the Home.”
“Forget it.”
“Why?”
“You wouldn’t get two feet past the outer walls. His estate is guarded by the tonton macoutes and other things. And there’s always Damballah.”
“Who’s that?”
“Damballah isn’t a person,” Eleanore said, and glanced nervously at the weeds enclosing them. “Damballah is the Snake God.”
“Let me get this straight. The Baron worships a snake?”
“Baron Laveau is the high priest of the Black Snake Society. The houmfor is located behind his estate. It’s also guarded day and night.”
“What the devil is a houmfor?”
“The temple where the rites are practiced, where Damballah is summoned.”
Lynx stared into her eyes. “And you’re not makin’ any of this nonsense up? There really are humans who go around worshiping some dinky snake?”
“Damballah isn’t dinky. Damballah is the mother and father of all snakes combined in one serpent. Damballah rules New Orleans.”
“A snake rules the city?” Lynx said, and laughed.
“It’s no laughing matter. Damballah rules through the Baron and Majesta.”
“What’s Majesta? An earthworm?” Lynx queried, snickering at his joke.
“No, dummy. Majesta is the mambo, the high priestess. She’s just as depraved as the Baron, maybe more so,” Eleanore disclosed bitterly.
“You don’t sound too fond of either of them.”
“I hate them!” Eleanore declared. “Why do you think I joined the Resistance? I want to see the Baron and Majesta destroyed. I want to help free the people of New Orleans from the Black Snake Society. The horror has to end!”
Lynx was surprised and impressed by the intensity of her passion. She genuinely despised the Black Snake Society, which qualified her as one of the good guys. Blade had provided a briefing on the distress call received at the Home, and he’d related the pertinent fact that the caller had specifically mentioned the Black Snake Society as being the group that had control of New Orleans. “Tell me more about the Black Snake Society,” he prompted.
“I can tell you everything you need to know in one word,” Eleanore said.
Lynx stared skeptically at her. “One measly word?”
“Yep.”
“What is this magical word?”
“Voodoo.”
Chapter Seven
In a twinkling Blade decided on his course of action. He couldn’t stand idly by and let Ferret or Gremlin be killed, not even with a potentially toxic spider clinging to his forearm. So at the same instant the guy in black pivoted, Blade raised the Thompson and fired. But his sacrifice, as it turned out, was unnecessary.
No sooner had the man started to rotate than Ferret executed a prodigious leap, and just as the man in black completed his revolution, before he could hope to react, Ferret alighted with all the force of a furry cannonball.
The startled object of the hybrid’s attack could do no more than utter an astounded gasp and try to bring his MAC 10 into play.
Ferret wouldn’t let him. Snarling deep in his throat, Ferret batted the Ingram aside with his left arm and sank the nails on his right hand into the man’s shoulder.
Gremlin was also in motion. Less than a second after Ferret hit their adversary high, causing the man to stumble rearward, Gremlin took the man low, hitting him below the knees, wrapping his arms around the man’s legs and driving forward in a timely tackle.
The guy in black went down with the hybrids on top.
Blade saw all of this transpire even as he braced for the anticipated spider bite. He focused on the arachnid, feeling its hairy legs rubbing on his skin, elated to see it going down his arm instead of up. In another few seconds it would drop to the ground and he could go aid the hybrids.
Not that they needed any help.
Ferret and Gremlin made short work of their opponent. The mammalian hybrid tore the MAG 10 from the man’s grasp, then clamped his right hand on the man’s throat. The humanoid delivered a smashing blow to the midsection that made the man sputter and wheeze and effectively nipped all resistance in the bud. Working together, each taking an arm, Ferret and Gremlin yanked their vanquished enemy erect and headed toward the Warrior.
Blade watched them approach, still loathe to move until the spider took its leave. The arachnid had halted an inch from his elbow and appeared in no particular hurry to vacate its newfound home.
Of all the dumb luck!
Ferret and Gremlin hastened over, supporting the man in black between them, the MAC 10 dangling from Ferret’s left hand.
“Good job,” Blade commented, looking up.
“If you don’t mind my saying so, this is a hell of a time to be taking a nap,” Ferret cracked.
“Nice of you to help us, yes?” Gremlin added.
“Do either of you know anything about spiders?” Blade casually inquired, staying perfectly still.