Zamani (24 page)

Chapter
Thirty Nine

Christophe had grown in
confidence while Wren was away.
 
She
was relieved to be free, and the distraction of their celebratory threesome
after the ritual was an added bonus.
 
Her lessons with Zofia had been useful as she was able to read
Christophe and his thoughts; she could also tell Olivia could, too, and that
his presence was a good distraction.
 
Wren hoped Olivia was unaware she was blocking efforts by Olivia to read
her mind.

 
They cleaned up Tony’s apartment.
Christophe took care of the remains.
 
Wren didn’t ask how; she figured the less she meddled, the better.
 
After things were tidied and the
apartment showed no traces of the ritual and the celebration that followed, they
left for Olivia’s house on the edge of the Garden District.
 
Wren was quiet in the car as Christophe
drove, he and Olivia in the front seat and Wren in the back.
 
She could sense he was anxious about
leaving them alone, but he was also distracted about betraying his grandmother
and his sister.
 

Once the celebration ended,
Olivia showed Wren to her new room in the house on Thalia. Olivia had readied
it for her, making sure she had all of the clothes and personal effects she
might need.

“You are free to come and go
as you please, Wren.
 
Part of this
arrangement is that in return for saving you, I expect your loyalty and your
help whenever I ask it.” Olivia held Wren’s face in her hands and softly kissed
her on the lips.
 
Wren surrendered
to the kiss and concentrated on nothing other than the sensation of Olivia’s
lips on her own.
 
Zofia had trained
her to focus on events and sensations as a meditative practice to keep her mind
clear.
 
It seemed to work; it was a
compartmentalization Wren was familiar with from years of dancing on Bourbon
Street.
 
Girls she’d known who
hadn’t had that ability were either lousy at earning or they were suicide
victims fairly quickly after starting to dance.

Wren showered and
dressed.
 
She marveled in the mirror
over how well the body had been prepped for her.
 
She didn’t mind one bit that Tiffany had
been younger. Her skin was taut, and her body looked sleek and fresh.
 
The tattoos were identical to the ones
that marked her old body, and while the face was not the same, it was close
enough. If she wanted someone to see her as Wren, they would.

She waited until Olivia was
out before she ventured outside the house alone a couple of days later. She
made use of the downtime to rest and also as a way of convincing Olivia and
Christophe she was happy there. And, in reality, she was so relieved to be free
that it wasn’t an act.
 
She also
began interacting with the house staff and donors. She knew she needed to build
trust quickly.
  

True to her word, Olivia had
not charmed the house as she had when Wren had been here before—she was
able to leave.
 
She wondered how
Olivia had controlled that before—whether it was something with the house
or some sort of mind control over the people she wanted to stay put.
 
She guessed the latter, as she realized
she’d never wanted to leave. She had simply come and gone as instructed by
Olivia.

Tiffany’s phone was plugged
in on Wren’s nightstand, and she grabbed it and slipped it into her pocket
before leaving the house.
 
Once she
was at the streetcar stop on St. Charles, she dialed the number for Vaughn
Morris, asking him to meet her at The Ruby.

She’d always loved the St.
Charles streetcar. She loved it for the noises it made and the banter of the
drivers, as well as the sheer fun of watching the mix of people. Locals on
their way to the Quarter to wash dishes and work the line in restaurants sat
next to tourists they’d likely be working to feed and clean up after.
 

She smiled as the car
stopped down by the Delphine Hotel, the old rectangular building that had been
her home for so long before all of this started. The Delphine saw more
strippers and hookers than tourists, as they rented rooms by the week and
month.
 
Artists and junkies of all
kinds waited eagerly for the rooms there.
 
She wondered who was living in her old studio apartment.
 
The bar downstairs had the doors open,
and she could see the empty dance floor as the streetcar lurched by.

Once she stepped out of the
streetcar on Canal, she made her way to The Ruby.
 
Liz was behind the bar and Vaughn was
chatting with her, drinking a beer.
 
As Wren entered, Liz went off to the other end of the bar, visiting with
a Vietnamese girl. Wren sensed she was a donor. In the days since the transfer,
Wren had sampled from Olivia’s in-house donors, and she was beginning to feel
far more comfortable in her new skin.
 

As she watched Liz, she realized
she was turned.
 
This didn’t
surprise her in the least; she knew Olivia would have wasted no time in turning
her. She wondered when she’d done it.
 
If Olivia had been up front with her, maybe she wouldn’t have turned
Alex; or maybe she would have done so sooner and they all could have worked
together against Olivia.

 
At least now she had another chance.

She sauntered up behind
Vaughn, sliding her hands around his waist and breathing on the back of his
neck.
 
She knew she smelled of
violets, and the scent of her perfumed breath mixed with the scent of Vaughn’s
natural smell and the faint traces of aftershave that had lingered through the
day. “So glad you could come out to see me, Mr. Morris.”

She felt the heat radiate
from him as he spun around and blushed; he stared at her and she knew he could
see she wasn’t the same girl he’d seen on the outside when he’d met her as
Tiffany.
 

“Tiffany, you look so much like
Wren that it is astounding.”
 
She
merely laughed at his suggestion.

“Please, these days I’m far
more comfortable being called Morrigan.” Liz was distracted, tending to other
customers.
 
Morrigan put a twenty-dollar
bill on the bar for her drink and Vaughn’s and grabbed his hand, leading him
out into the street.
 

He didn’t resist; they
walked hand in hand long enough to find another bar to duck into.
 
She got him situated in a booth and went
to grab more drinks.
 
He was
confused and dazed, which was her plan.
 
She slid into the bench seat on the opposite side of the booth and
simply said, “Let’s help each other.
 
What I’m about to tell you will make your career, as long as you help
me.”

Chapter
Forty

Christophe was pleased;
Olivia seemed to recognize he could truly be a help to her, and they consulted
on the ritual to bring Wren back.
 
He’d asked Olivia to walk him through the ritual steps, and he wrote
down what she translated from memory, this time in English.
 
He had his mother’s altar at his disposal
and he gathered the candles and other ritual implements from there.
 
Finally, he was harnessing the family
powers and wisdom the women tried to keep for themselves.
 
Now he would take it.

He’d never felt as powerful
as he did on the night of the ritual.
 
Both Tiffany and her boyfriend Tony were submissive and completely
unable to resist the power he and Olivia had over them.
 
They were as gentle and innocent as
lambs to the slaughter. He’d always felt powerful when drumming, but during
this ritual he was part of the power, not simply a supporting player. The
entranced man’s hands perfectly mimicked Christophe’s as they danced over the
skins of the drums.
 

When they fed from him at
the end of the ritual, Wren at his neck and he and Olivia each feeding from one
of his wrists, Christophe swore the beating of his heart matched the rhythms
they’d played in reverse, starting with the frenzied tachycardic tempo and
slowing first to a regular rhythm, then fading out and stopping altogether.
 
He’d worried before the ritual that he’d
be resentful about Wren’s return, but as the three of them celebrated over their
sacrifice, he realized the three of them had a special strong bond.
 
He’d helped her get her life back, and
she was now indebted to him.
 
As he
saw it, so was Olivia.

He could get used to such
power.

Epilogue:
Mardi Gras Day, 2013

Sasha brought up the rear of
the procession as it left the starting point on Montague Street in front of the
small cottage Liz and Vivienne shared.
 
She, Lucy, Steph, and Zofia had arrived early enough they were able to
get a good spot to watch the front of the house, but late enough they could
blend in with the others. Once the Storyville Stompers arrived, the door of the
cottage opened up and out came Liz and Vivienne.
 
Liz carried a decorated box in her
hands.
 
Sasha felt that same sense
of uneasiness she had when she and Lucy zipped her replacement up into that
body bag just a couple of months ago.
 
She knew she wasn’t in the box, but she felt the same connection to
those ashes, the same loss.

Behind Liz and Vivienne came
Kirby and Mike and then Eliot Camp and Robert James.
 
Everyone was masked, and Liz and
Vivienne were dressed crisp white dresses and white masks.
 
It was odd to see her father in Carnival
gear, but she was glad he was here. She also noted Lila was nowhere to be
found, which also made her happy.
 
She let herself get caught up in the movement and the sounds of the
brass band as they made their way to and through the Quarter, picking up the
Rex parade at Canal and Royal before turning back and making their way across
Decatur to the river.
 
Here, the
band switched to “A Closer Walk With Thee” and she watched as revelers came
forward with small pouches of ashes mixed with glitter, releasing bits of their
loved ones, casting them upon the water.
 
Liz waited until the last of the revelers stepped forward and then she
opened the box.
 
The air stirred
just as she lifted the lid, helping her disperse the ashes she thought were
Alex’s into the air.
 
Sasha felt
herself sigh with relief as the ashes and glitter hovered above the water,
glitter and sun dappled water mixing together.
 
The sound of Vivienne’s conch cleared
the air and the crowd began to scatter, people meandering in all different
directions, returning to the day’s festivities before Ash Wednesday and the end
of carnival.

As the crowd dispersed,
Alex’s family of Liz, Mike, Kirby, Eliot, and Robert hugged each other and
briefly talked, agreeing to meet up later for dinner.
 
Vivienne stayed with Liz by the river as
the four men wandered off together in search of a drink.
 
Sasha and her new family also
retreated.
 
They made their way back
toward the house she’d shared with Liz, now just Mike and Kirby’s house.
 

After Liz and Vivienne
summoned Olivia and challenged her, they’d made the decision to move into the
small cottage together.
 
They were
not far from Kirby and Mike, but the house with its memories of Alex and of
what happened to her there were too heavy.
 
Liz was also learning from Vivienne; Sasha could feel the bond between
the two of them. They needed each other right now, and she knew they were good
to each other.

She knew they also needed
her, though, if they were going to be successful in fighting Olivia’s
manipulation.

She entered the house and
went to the room where Wren had killed Alex and created Sasha in one rash
moment.
 
All of the things that made
the room hers and Liz’s were gone.
 
Kirby and Mike redecorated by putting new linens on the bed, cleaning
out the closet, replacing the lamps and bedside tables she and Liz had bought
from thrift stores with some bland matching ones that were new.
 
The room before had been crowded with
memories—of her, Liz, of memories that the antique and used furniture they’d
gathered held—before; now the only remnants was the ghostly invisible
energy in the corner where she’d died.
 
She stood in that corner, her back to the door.
 
She sensed someone behind her and she
turned.
 
She was still wearing her
mask, as was Liz, who stood in the doorway, breathless and quiet.

They stood that way for a
few moments, neither of them daring to move or speak.
 
Finally Liz moved toward Sasha and they
stood nose to nose, Liz looking into her eyes, still saying nothing.
 
Sasha heard the breath catch in Liz’s
throat as she recognized something in Sasha’s eyes.
 
Sasha smiled as Liz reached forward and
slid her thumbs under the edge of Sasha’s mask, sliding it over her head and
dropping it on the floor.
 
Her hands
were cool and dry on Sasha’s skin, as she cradled her face in her hands.
 
Sasha reached over and removed Liz’s
mask.
 
As she did, tears slid down
Liz’s cheeks.
 
Silently, Liz pressed
her lips to Sasha’s.

After a few seconds, Sasha
wrapped her hands around Liz’s wrists and pulled free from the kiss.
 
“I was hoping you’d come here.”

Liz nodded.
 
“I can’t explain it, but I had to.
 
I should be angry with you for not
coming to me sooner.
 
Alex,
 
you’re also turned?”

“Yes.
 
I’ve been watching you; the dreams and
the session at Martine’s were attempts to reach out to you.
 
I’m sorry I didn’t just reveal myself,
but when I was awakened, you were gone to your dad’s.
 
And I had to figure things out, just as
you did.”
 

Liz was still looking at
her, marveling in how different she looked.
 
She’d looked so much like herself in the
seconds after Liz removed her mask, but now she looked like a stranger. In a
flash, she realized she’d seen this version of Alex at The Ruby—even at
the memorial service before she’d retreated to Hattiesburg.
 
She’d been with her the entire
time.
 
“How, Alex?” was all she
managed to get out.

Alex shook her head.
 
“I have a new name. Please call me
Sasha.
 
Come with me, please, and I
can explain.”

Sasha picked up her mask
from the floor where Liz dropped it.
 
As she put her mask back on, Liz did the same.
 
“Do you trust me, Liz?”

She nodded.
 
They left the house, silently walking
together back toward the river.
 

Sasha led Liz back through
the crowds toward the ferry that would take them across the river where Lucy
and the rest of their new family waited for them.