I wondered if she'd ever had a dog named Blackie. If she'd really liked Pansy.
Clarence picked the lock on the privacy of my mind. "You gonna do it, mahn? Go there, see the Queen?"
I nodded.
150
Two more dead days. Then I went out to answer the call. Just before midnight, I crossed the Triboro, took the far right lane to Queens, exited at Ninety-fourth Street, just before La Guardia. Rolled south to Northern Boulevard, turned left to the voodoo house. The gate was open. I pulled the Plymouth inside, all the way around to the back. Two men in the yard, dressed in their black and white. I got out slowly so I wouldn't spook them. They looked through me, said nothing.
I walked to the back door. A bright red arrow was freshly painted on the side of the house, pointing to a set of stone steps. Down.
Another way to the basement. I followed the steps to the bottom. By then, I knew better than to knock. No doorknob. I pushed, it opened, and I was inside.
The underground room seemed bigger than the last time. She was where she was before, a faint shape in the gloomy shadows. I walked to her. Candles popped into life all around the room, thick and stubby as fists, fat-flamed. Red and white, lacing the dark in an alternating pattern like the pin heads on the juju bag. Cloth-sounds on either side of me as I moved. Deep dampness from the stone walls. The floor felt like packed earth beneath the soles of my boots.
"Do you believe now?" she asked, soft-voiced as I approached.
I sat before her. "The baby was in the water," I replied.
"Yes. And now you hunt again."
"Not for…"
"I know. Not for him. For the false gods. For what those like you call the devil."
"Yes."
"You do not ask how I know. Have you learned, then?"
"Yes."
"Where is your son tonight?"
"I have no son."
"Yes, hunter, you have a son. The young one who was with you when you last came. He is dark like us, but his heart is like yours. A son looks to his father for guidance. For the Way. Your way is to hunt. And he follows."
"No, it's just a job. He works for others."
"And to those others, you are a hired man, yes?"
"Yes."
"And so then is he. Like you. It is from you he learns, not from them. And he protects you, like a son."
"He's a professional— it's his job."
"No. His master gave him the message. From me. To you. And so you are here now. But the boy, he has been here since yesterday afternoon. Just across the street, in one of the rooms they rent."
"How…?"
"He paid the lady extra so he could have a room with a window on the street. The bathroom is down the hall. In his room, in his suitcase, he has a rifle. One that comes in two pieces. It is our house, there. The lady is not one of us, but she knows what to do. It is your son."
"He won't do anything. I'll…"
"It is all right. He is safe. Ask me your questions now— we have work to do before the sun."
"The people I'm looking for…" I started, reaching in my pocket for the mug shots Wolfe had given me.
She held up her hand. "We do not know them. Not by their faces. But by their practice, they are known. They are not sorcerers, they have no magic. Poison is their weapon. Their poison, it makes the wolf who walks."
"No. They…"
"What Europeans call a werewolf, child of sadness. Before there was legend, before there was myth, there was truth. Their poison, it makes a beast. When the beast feeds, when it is satisfied, it is a man again. You have seen this."
Luke. Baby baby baby. Stabbing. Toby. A different child. The runaway. Running in his mind. Splitting off.
I nodded. So deeply it felt like a bow.
"The poison-masters leave a spoor. It is their track. The dead sheep tells us its killer by the marks on its body— a man kills differently than a wolf. The hunter knows."
"I know who. Not where."
"Take this," she said. Handing me a leather thong, long glossy feathers attached to it. Black and white. "Wrap the strap around your wrist, hold it like this." Her forearm straight out, fingers pointing to me.
Ki.
The feathers hung limp. The tips of our fingers touched.
"They know each other, the vampire and the werewolf. But know this too, hunter. They are not brothers."
Electricity in my fingers, in my wrist. The feathers fluttered in the candlelight but the flames held steady. I couldn't feel the breeze.
Her hand moved, covered mine. Untied the thong from my wrist. Leather and feathers disappeared somewhere behind her throne.
She closed her eyes, tilted her chin up. I could see the long muscles in her throat. Her eyes opened, held mine.
"Come here," she said.
I stood up. She made a gesture. I bent toward her. Her face was close enough to kiss. Her arms went around my neck. Something there, soft.
I stepped back. A tiny muslin bag bounced against my chest, thin silken strap around my neck.
"Wear it against your body until your hunt is done. Wear it inside their cave— it will protect you."
I bowed.
"Take your son. And go now."
151
I parked the Plymouth right in front of the building across the street. Got out, sat on the hood, lit a cigarette. The window shade in the front room flickered. The kid had a lot to learn. I waved my arm in a "come on down" gesture. Waited.
Clarence came out the front door, suitcase in one hand, his pistol an the other.
"It's okay," I told him, opening the trunk for the suitcase, lifting the panel next to the fuel cell so it would disappear even if some cop wanted to play Probable Cause on the way back.
He climbed in the front seat. "How'd you know, mahn?"
"Never mind. Where's your car?"
"My car?" he said, looking across at me like I was on lithium. "I wouldn't bring my ride to this place, mahn. Where would I park it? I took the bus."
152
I rode the BQE toward Brooklyn. The Plymouth's independent rear suspension absorbed the potholes in the middle lane, just a touch under the speed limit.
"You should've told me you were working backup, Clarence."
"I figure, I tell you, you have an attitude, mahn. Give it away."
"It's not professional, surprise your partner, okay? I didn't know it was you in that window, might've been the first thing I took out, I made it to the street. Specially if I saw that curtain move. What'd you figure…you were gonna lay down some cover for me, spray their house with the rifle?"
"Something like that." Paying attention, sullen.
"You had the high ground, that was good. Probably got a couple of extra clips for the piece too."
He nodded.
"That's not the way, kid. You'd never get out of there alive. That's cowboy shit. Kamikaze. You send a partner into a meeting, you want to get out, not get even, understand?"