The Wolven (18 page)

“Oh, no, man, not them! You can’t do that, bro. It ain’t right—it just ain’t right!”

Banjo squirmed beneath his foot, and Danyon added a bit more pressure to the guy’s genitals. “We need some information, and we need it fast. And you’re going to cough it up.”

“I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about! I already told you I don’t know nothin’. I swear, nothin’! Why you been after me?”

“Because you came into my store, wanting to trade secrets for cookies, talking about three dead mice—no teeth—no big fingernails,” Shauna fumed. “I know you were talking about the weres, and I want to know what you know about them. How did you know they didn’t have fangs or claws? How?”

“I don’t know whatchu talkin’ about. I went in the store ’cause, like, I was hungry, and the other lady that’s there, she always feedin’ me and stuff. I was—I was hungry. I thought I could get a cookie if I said that. I was hungry, so I said it, you know? They smelled so good and—”

Danyon pressed his foot down even harder.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, man! You gonna bust ’em. Stop! I told you the trut’. I was just hungry.”

“How did you know about the weres?” Danyon asked.

“What was all that about? The three blind mice and no teeth? You knew about the weres, didn’t you?”

“How did you know?” Shauna added.

Banjo shook his head, greasy brown hair falling into his eyes. “Word on the street, just word on the street.”

“Whose word?” Shauna asked. “Who told you about the weres?”

He shook his clasped hands, an adamant prayer for mercy. “Look, I swear to Gawd, I don’t know nothin’. I musta been talkin’ out the side of my neck. I swear, I don’t know!”

Danyon smelled fear wafting up from Banjo. And he also smelled a lie. He lifted his foot and tucked the toe of his boot under Banjo’s crotch, making sure it jabbed him in the most sensitive spot.

“Aw, no!” Banjo started crying. “I’m not gonna have nothin’ left. You can’t take ’em from me, man! Like I ain’t gonna be able to have kids or nothin’. Ain’t gonna even be able to do it no more. I swear to Gawd, I don’t
know nothin’, I didn’t do nothin’. Just don’t kill me, okay? Don’t kill me.”

Danyon twisted his foot to the right, jabbed the toe of his boot in a little harder—deeper.

“Okay, okay! I’ll tell ya, okay? Ease off, okay?”

“Spill it first, then I’ll let off.”

“Aw, man…okay, yeah, they got a new drug. I heard about it on the street. Everybody talkin’ about it. Big stuff called Lacodah. People sayin’ it make you strong, keep you buzzin’, like you all wired and stuff, so you can see and smell and hear good. And you can run fast. It’s the shit, man. It’s the shit.”

“So you’ve taken this new drug?” Shauna asked.

“Me? No, no. Not me, no. Like I say, I just heard about it on the street.”

“Bullshit,” Shauna said. “The last time you came to the shop, you were on it. How else could you have smelled those cookies from across the street? With all the people out there, the food smells and alcohol—for you to smell those cookies over all that, I’d say you have a pretty sensitive nose.”

Danyon gave his foot another sharp twist. “Tell the lady the truth.”

“Okay! Yeah, okay, I tried it! Once, though. One time.”

“And what about Mattie?” Shauna asked. “I saw the two of you fighting in front of the shop. She dented a light pole with her fist. That much strength, she’s got to be on it, too, right?”

“I don’t even know who you talkin’ ’bout,” Banjo said. “Who be Mattie? I don’t know her—I swear to Gawd.”

Danyon grabbed a handful of Banjo’s hair and pulled, forcing the guy to look at him. “If you keep lying, I’m going to make sure you walk and talk like a girl for the rest of your life. Do you understand me?”

Tears streamed down Banjo’s cheeks. “Yeah…yeah, I heard. Okay—okay, yeah, Mattie, she takin’ Lacodah, too. I share, you know, share a little bit wit’ her.”

“Since when does a junkie share anything?” Shauna asked. “You’re dealing it, aren’t you?”

“Oh, no!” Banjo held his hands out as if to block her words. “I ain’t sellin’ nothin’. That’s sample stuff, you know, sample stuff.”

“Where did you get it?” Danyon asked.

The young vamp looked up at him, and there was no missing the terror in his eyes. “Man, I can’t say—I can’t do—they gonna kill me. They gonna kill me for sure.”

Danyon removed his boot from Banjo’s crotch, then parked it on his left shoulder and pushed down until he sat flat on the ground. Then he repositioned his boot between his legs, only now it was in a prime position. He had leverage to work with. Concrete, a heavy boot, and testicles between them. The man was in a bind. Danyon rocked his body forward, so the pressure increased between Banjo’s legs.

“Mutha—mutha…” Banjo gasped. Danyon pressed down a little harder, and Banjo’s mouth fell open. He looked like a fish out of water, gasping for air. When Danyon released the pressure on his testicles, it was as
though Banjo’s body needed time to absorb the knowledge that it was no longer restricted. He sat frozen, his mouth hanging open for a four-count before he finally blinked.

“Next time they’re going flat,” Danyon said. “Unless you tell us what we need to know.”

Banjo started weeping loudly. He put his hands over his face, sobbing. “I can’t! Man, you don’t know what you’re sayin’—I’m gonna be dead!”

“You’re going to be dead either way,” Danyon promised. “Tell me what you know. Who’s in this with you?” He forced Banjo’s head up by the hair again. “And this is the
last
time I’m asking.”

Keeping the pressure on his genitals, Danyon squatted in front of Banjo and rocked his body forward so that he was only inches from his face. The pressure from his boot evidently shot the pain level up to excruciating, because even in the dim light Danyon saw the guy’s face turn purple.

To make sure he got his point across, Danyon lowered his head, allowed some of the anger he had been holding back to rush through him. He concentrated on one section of his body and soon felt the muscles in his neck begin to ripple and move up to his cheek. He shifted his head to one side to regulate the mutation—snout elongating, fangs bared.

Banjo jerked his head back so hard he smashed it against the brick wall behind him.

“Holy mother, not that! Okay, yeah, okay, it was the voodoo man! The fat man. He’s got somethin’ to do wit’
it, but that’s all I know. He get that voodoo stuff going wit’ that snake, and—I—that’s all I know. That’s all. He’s the one call it Lacodah—not the snake, the stuff. The stuff that makes you run fast, that’s Lacodah. That’s him, man, I swear—that’s all I know. Okay—don’t tear my face off, okay? Don’t kill me!” Banjo wailed at the top of his lungs, “Oh, God, don’t kill me!”

Danyon had to wonder what breed of vampire would take this much pain and not transform.

“Please, I don’t want to die!” Banjo cried.

Danyon drew in a deep breath, held it, closed his eyes for a moment, and felt his human features return. Then he removed his foot from Banjo and stood, leaving the guy in a sniveling, blubbering heap.

Without another word, Danyon walked the length of the alley, took Shauna’s hand, and headed north.

“Where are we going?” she asked.

As keen as her hearing had been with Gris Gris and Trish earlier on Bourbon, he was surprised that she hadn’t heard what Banjo had said.

“Where are we going?” she asked again.

Eyes forward, his mind’s eye locked on a vision of his prey, Danyon lengthened his stride.

“We’re going to see a man about a snake.”

P
apa Gris Gris’ Voodoo Shop was located on Rampart Street, on the ground floor of a two-story shotgun house. The foot traffic on Rampart wasn’t anything near what they had just come through in the heart of the Quarter, but it was still heavier than a standard business day.

Gris Gris’ shop was teeming with customers, even at this late hour, as was T-Boy’s T-Shirt Shop, Bailey’s Praline Store, and Sistah’s, Lurnell’s mystic shop. All three stores were on the same side of the street and attached at the hip, Sistah’s being on the end. Shauna could only imagine what Lurnell’s reaction would be if she knew she was going into her competitor’s store. The last thing Lurnell had to worry about, though, was her buying anything from Gris Gris, especially after Danyon had told
her what he had gotten out of Banjo and why they were all but racing to Rampart.

Danyon had asked her how she had not heard Banjo squawling about Gris Gris and Lacodah when she had heard Trish and Gris Gris in the middle of Bourbon. Shauna had managed to dodge the question by claiming she had been preoccupied guarding the alleyway entrance, making sure no one else came in—and no one went out. That hadn’t been the whole truth. All of the truth was that she had indeed been guarding the alley entrance, but her thoughts had been preoccupied with how stupid she had acted back in that bar with Big Frank Macina.

What on earth had possessed her to confront such a bear of a man that way? It had been tacky, unproductive and just plain stupid. The excuse she had given herself about why she had done it was that she had thought a direct approach—a blatant confrontation—might shake some information out of Macina. It had really started out that way, then something inside of her just sort of snapped, and she became a runaway train. Fortunately, Danyon hadn’t confronted her about it or reprimanded her like she was a child. She could only hope that it was because he had accepted what had happened, knew she couldn’t go back and change it, and that she was mature enough to see how she could have handled it differently.

There were two signs attached to the screen door that was the entrance to Gris Gris’ shop. One read Open and the one beneath it Push, which she did.

She had never been inside the voodoo shop and was surprised to see that it looked nothing like A Little Bit of Magic or Sistah’s. She couldn’t understand why Lurnell saw Gris Gris as such a threat. The only merchandise he sold were voodoo masks, altar supplies, a few books on the history of voodoo, and some wooden statues that looked as though they had been carved by a second grader. Gris Gris sold them as totems, guaranteeing that they would strengthen any spell offered on any practitioner’s altar.

Shauna suspected that Gris Gris’ biggest income generator was himself. He wasn’t shy about claiming to be one of the most powerful voodoo practitioners in the south, as well as a psychic with extraordinary abilities. She suspected that his steady customers were people stuck on the road to hopelessness that appeared to have no end, and they saw Gris Gris as their last resort.

Within ten feet of the entrance of the shop, was a narrow stairway that led to the second floor and a voodoo museum that you could tour for an additional five dollars.

There may have been fifteen people in the shop when Shauna and Danyon entered, but it felt like many more in the cramped space. The customers who were there talked in hush tones as they walked about, examining pictures on the wall and different pieces of merchandise, all of which, Shauna noticed, didn’t carry a price tag. It was a shake-down technique used by some small shop owners. Without a price tag, they were able to size up the customer examining the merchandise. Then, when the
customer asked about cost, the shop owner would wing a price off the top of his head, basing it on the quality and size of the customer’s clothes and jewelry. The bigger the jewelry and the higher end the clothes, the higher the price for the piece of merchandise. It was a practice Shauna and her sisters abhorred.

Gris Gris sat behind an old wooden desk in a double-wide, ladder-back chair at the rear of the room. He probably claimed that both the chair and desk were antiques, but Shauna would have bet her own shop that both came from Goodwill.

The chair creaked as he rocked, his eyes ever watchful as customers picked up and examined different items. He appeared quite content, like someone who had discovered the secret to peace while still living in a chaotic world. Either that, or someone really stoned who lived in total oblivion. He wore a long-sleeved, billowing white shirt and heaven only knew what else, because the rest of him was hidden under the desk. Shauna wasn’t surprised to find that seeing Gris Gris up close was no different than seeing him from afar. He looked the same—ugly. His eyes, nose and mouth were too small for his face, and his fingers looked like stubby, albino sausages, and he smelled…moldy.

Like Gris Gris didn’t have enough going for him, the boa constrictor served as the pièce de résistance. Only rarely, if ever, did anyone see Gris Gris without that six-foot boa draped about his neck, and either one or both of Gris Gris’ hands were always in motion, stroking, petting the snake as it slowly coiled its tail up, then relaxed it.
Its head and at least a third of its body would undulate over Gris Gris’ rotund stomach. The sight was not for the faint of heart—or stomach.

Using subtle body language and eye signals, Shauna and Danyon made up their minds to stall in the front section of the shop and wait for most, if not all, of the customers to leave before they confronted him. They pretended to be looking at the different pictures and masks that hung on the wall.

“Remember, you’re leaving this guy to me,” Danyon whispered, when they found a moment of privacy.

Shauna nodded, felt her face grow hot and knew she must have been blushing different shades of crimson from embarrassment. She didn’t blame him for wanting to handle Gris Gris after the way she had dealt with Big Frank Macina.

“Well, Ms. MacDonald, what a pleasant surprise,” Gris Gris said, when she and Danyon finally approached his desk. The boa lifted its yellow-striped head, as if curious to see who Gris Gris was addressing. “Mmm…and who’s your handsome friend?” he asked.

Surprised by the lecherous look Gris Gris was giving Danyon, she said, “This is Danyon Stone. Danyon, this…” She paused, realizing she didn’t know Gris Gris’ real name, then decided to use what she did know. “This is Papa Gris Gris.”

“Charmed,” Gris Gris said, and held out a hand.

Danyon didn’t reach for it.

Gris Gris retracted his hand slowly, resumed petting the boa in long slow strokes and smiled.

“How may I help the two of you this evening?” Gris Gris asked Shauna.

“We need some information from you,” Danyon said.

Gris Gris rested his head against the back of his chair and rocked steadily. “And what information might that be, Mr. Stone?”

Danyon stared at the fat man, and Gris Gris returned the stare. They held eye contact for so long, Shauna thought both had fallen into a trance.

“I think you already know what kind of information I’m looking for,” Danyon finally said.

Gris Gris laughed. “Well, I must admit that my psychic abilities are indeed acute, but, unfortunately, not in every situation or circumstance.”

“Oh, I don’t think you have to be a psychic to know this.”

Gris Gris grinned, rocked back, then said, “Mr. Stone, please do get to the point. As you can see, I have customers to tend to. If you insist on playing these guessing games, I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

Shauna was standing at Danyon’s side, and she felt the muscles in his arms tense against her body. No question he wanted to punch the fat man square in the face. She had to admit that she was curious to see how Danyon was going to handle this. Gris Gris was human. Wolven, vampires, and shape-shifters maintained an unspoken rule—they didn’t openly admit their true nature to a human. If Danyon found out Gris Gris was involved in
the wolven deaths, however, she was confident he would make an exception to that rule.

“I’m certain you’ve heard that there have been three murders recently,” Danyon said.

Gris Gris arched a brow. “Really? Three—is that all?”

Danyon scowled. “How dare you—”

“Oh, Mr. Stone, relax. You take life much too seriously. I do watch the news you know. Since Katrina, it’s common knowledge that New Orleans is viewed as one of the top five cities in America with the highest murder rate per capita.”

“The three I’m talking about happened not far from here.”

“I see,” Gris Gris said. “And your point?”

Danyon’s face grew darker. “I was curious as to whether you had heard anything about them. Knew any information about the murders.”

“Now why would I be privy to such information?” Gris Gris asked.

Danyon allowed a long pause to follow Gris Gris’ question before answering, “It’s often surprising what some people are privy to.”

A light twinkled in Gris Gris’ eyes. “Very true, Mr. Stone.” He glanced around Danyon to Shauna. “Do forgive me for not asking earlier, Shauna, but how are your sisters, Fiona and Caitlin?”

“They’re well, thank you,” Shauna said.

“And your business? Thriving I hope?”

Shauna answered with a curt nod.

“Splendid. I’m so glad to hear it.”

“Excuse me, are y’all in line?” Two middle-aged women wearing matching floral dresses stepped up behind Danyon. One was sweating profusely and fanning herself with a small piece of cardboard.

“Yes, we are,” Danyon said sharply, and both women stepped back immediately.

“I’m sorry… I apologize for…we didn’t mean to interrupt,” the woman with the fan said hastily. “I wanted to make an appointment for a reading and thought the gentleman sitting behind the desk was the person I needed to make the appointment with.”

“I am indeed, and you may,” Gris Gris said to her, then narrowed his eyes at Danyon.

No one moved.

“If you will excuse me, Mr. Stone—Ms. MacDonald. I have clients who need my assistance—paying clients.”

Shauna slid a hand into the front pocket of her jeans, pulled out two twenty-dollar bills and tossed them on the desk. “Yes, you do indeed have paying clients.”

With a slight shake of his head and roll of his eyes, Gris Gris turned to the two women. “Ladies, I will be happy to assist you as soon as I’m done with these…two.”

The woman without the fan suddenly gasped. “Oh, my word—it moved! Is that a real snake around your neck?”

Gris Gris smiled broadly and stroked the boa. Even his teeth were too small for his head. “Oh, yes, Simone is quite real. Isn’t she lovely?”

Danyon cleared his throat loudly.

Gris Gris tsked, “Ladies, if you will excuse us—and in exchange for your patience, I would like to offer you a free tour of our voodoo museum, which is right at the top of that stairwell. Please, take your time and enjoy the artifacts. I am certain my business here will conclude…” His eyes fell on Danyon. “…shortly.”

The women thanked him profusely and headed up the stairs.

Once they were out of sight and hearing range, Gris Gris’ calm, nonchalant demeanor abruptly changed.

“All right, what do you want, Stone? Why are you here busting my balls like this? I’ve never done anything to you. Hell, I don’t even know you.”

Shauna did a double take. The few times she had heard Gris Gris speak, his high-brow style and diction had been superfluous. His sudden “home-boy” talk took her aback.

“I can only guess what else you’re faking,” Danyon said to him. “But what I really want is more information about the new product line you’ve got out on the street right now.”

Gris Gris frowned. “What are you talking about?”

“The name ‘lacodah’ mean anything to you?”

As hard as Gris Gris worked to keep his expression neutral, Shauna noticed the flicker of surprise in his eyes.

“I don’t have the slightest idea what you’re talking about, man.”

“Yeah? Well, there are a couple people on the street telling me different.”

“What’s with you? You a cop?”

“No, but I know quite a few.”

“What the hell does that have to do with anything? I don’t know anything about no locodi, Bonighnigh, whatever the hell you called it.”

“That’s strange,” Danyon said. “Because the way I’ve heard it on the street, you’re the man and the direct connection to it.”

“I don’t know who you talked to, and I really don’t give a damn. All I know is you’ve got the wrong person.”

Simone, apparently sensing Gris Gris’ growing agitation, began undulating rapidly, the bottom half of her body coiling in tighter. Her tail curled around Gris Gris’ neck, the tip of it overlapping her head.

“It’s all right, baby,” Gris Gris said, stroking her head calmly. “Daddy’s fine. These bad people are going away now. It’s okay.” As he petted her and spoke soothingly, Simone began to relax, her tail dropping away from around Gris Gris’ neck. “There you go…you’re such a sweetheart.”

When Simone had calmed completely, her head gently bobbing from side to side, Gris Gris looked up at Danyon.

“As I was saying, Mr. Stone. Feel free to search this place. Call the police if you must. But if I may offer one piece of advice, as in any area of life, you should always be careful about what you ask for and look for. Because you just might find it.”