A Woman of the Swamp - 6

6. The Devil in the Details

Six caskets lined the floor of the attic, open and accumulating dust. If anyone was locked inside, they didn’t come out to greet Marie. The room was quiet, fitting for an alleged tomb. Tension built in the back of her neck radiating down her shoulders. Over the course of her years practicing necromancy, breaking and entering had become almost normal, but something about the undisturbed space was unnerving. Regardless, she took a few steps into the room. I could be the first person to step in here in hundreds of years. If this was the rush archaeologists were on about, she didn’t care for it. Each step felt like an intrusion in the space that had gone so long without being disturbed.

Marie stayed tense, sweeping her eyes around the room. While she still didn’t put much stock in vampires, The Baron had been real enough. If some supernatural entity really had been hiding out in the attic, they were likely grumpy. Marie wasn’t even sure what exactly she was looking for. Carefully, she approached the coffins, lifting her staff and casting a white glow over the room. The rafters creaked and groaned with the passing breeze. The place felt like the textbook definition of eerie.

Much like the room, the coffins were filled with a thick layer of dust and cobwebs. Their lids were open, but there was nothing inside. “I’ll be damned,” she whispered to herself and the staff. The skull hadn’t made any indication that it could hear her, but it made Marie feel better about talking to herself. The casket girls were real. All that time spent laughing at stupid tourists for believing the story and it turned out to be true. She looked up at the ceiling, half expecting six undead children to be looking back at her. The rafters were empty, except for a fat, brown spider sitting in the corner of an impressive web.

“Sorry to disturb you,” she called.

The spider made no response.

“Horrible creatures anyway.” Marie walked around the caskets, running her hand along the edge. Something felt off. The Baron would not have tasked her with something so easy. There’s no way this room is empty. Marie took another look around and found nothing but aging wood and dust. Maybe it’s a joke? The Baron was known for being a trickster, but also for getting his money’s worth out of a deal.

The voice of Marie’s mother echoed in her ears. Never make a deal with The Devil. How many Sundays had she been taught that lesson? On instinct, Marie pulled the note out of her pocket, checking to ensure she hadn’t missed any instructions.

The paper was blank.

“What the hell?”

Ink flowed on the page from an invisible pen scrawling neat, cursive letters. Once again, the message was simple. It read: ‘Made you look.’

Through the boarded-up window slats, Marie caught flashes of red and blue light. Her heart stuck in her throat. “You son of bitch.” She hurried to the window, her footsteps causing a cacophony of creaks. With a single swipe of her staff, she broke off several of the wooden slats, carving herself a small hole to peak through. “No, no, no.” Terror gripped her. The happiness she had felt earlier turned to ash.

Lining the street were six police cars. Several men with rifles were set up in a defensive formation as others went around the back of the building. A group of officers were at the base of the convent, standing outside the door she had entered from.

How did they get here so fast? Marie looked down at the paper in her hand again. The cursive wiped clean, leaving a blank page. Then, more words appeared. ‘Your debt is paid. See you around, Marie.’ She could almost hear Samedi sneering triumphantly as he said it.

“Oh, fuck you.” She ripped the paper in half and stuffed it in her pocket. The crackle of a man’s voice on a radio echoed up from downstairs. They’re already in the building. Marie looked to her staff. The eye sockets were glowing with purple fire. It made a subtle pull toward the door. Calm energy radiated up Marie’s arm when she looked toward the exit. Whatever juju was in the staff was looking for fight.

“We need to get out of here.” The voice came from Marie’s lips, but wasn’t hers. She looked at the skull, waiting for a nod, or something, but its eyes only glowed back at her. They had a decision to make, and not much time to make it in. Sitting still meant getting arrested and probably killed in the process. Attempting to fight her way out meant that people were going to get hurt and still carried the potential for her early demise.

Ray, can’t leave Ray alone. She could see him, lying in bed, sleeping through the night, feeling better for the first time in months. The smile that had crossed his lips as she left for the evening flashed before her eyes. Samedi’s instructions were specific and required her to treat Ray every day for months. She didn’t want to think about what would happen if she stopped. Given the source of the cure, she imagined it wouldn’t be good.

Creaky wood from the stairwell split the silence. A brief burst of radio chatter followed, but was quickly silenced. They were on their way up. Marie was running out of time. Morality kept her rooted to the spot. This was the moment she had always been warned about, the point of no return. She took a deep breath, trying to find calm. All she could see was Ray’s face, and the thought of his suffering pushed her toward the door. The staff practically pulled her down the hallway, rocketing forward, hell-bent on a fight.

Oh, we’re going to have ourselves a rumble. The voice in her head was grating and old. When it spoke, she could practically hear the dust falling off its bones. Follow my lead and we’ll get through this.

“Footprints leading to the third floor,” called an officer from below.

“Another one of those damned crazies trying to open the door,” muttered another. Their footsteps echoed off the steps as they ascended.

“Weapons out, body cams on. Can’t afford another fuckup.”

Marie walked away from the landing, hiding in a small alcove. There wasn’t much room at the top of the stairs, but she hoped the attic would draw focus. The staff shook in her hand, trying desperately to move straight down the stairs. I listened to you, now you listen to me. I’m not trying to die tonight.

The staff fell still and reduced its glow.

The two officers crested the landing, handguns drawn and pointed straight at the attic. “Holy shit, they got it open?” Their footsteps crunched as they walked over the hundreds of nails Marie had removed.

“That’s worse than you know, Mike.” He pulled out his radio. “The attic is open. Couple hundred nails here.”

“Ah, come on, don’t tell me you believe that superstitious crap,” replied Mike.

“Why do you think they nailed it shut?”

Mike laughed. “It’s a bunch of bullsh—"

The girl came out of nowhere but moved with blinding speed. From her hiding spot, Marie only saw the blur of an old night dress and a pale shape. In a flash, Mike’s arm was gone. Blood spouted from the severed end of his right shoulder. The shredded remains of his arm fell to the floor with a wet thunk, his disembodied fingers still gripping the pistol guard. “No,” he sputtered. Blood boiled on his lips with the word, dripping red lines his chin. Mike stumbled backward, falling to an uneasy seat against the far wall. “No, no, no.”

The other officer didn’t lose focus and tried to track the assailant. The pistol barked once, shattering the door frame, but the girl was too quick. “Come on you, coward, show y—” The man’s statement ended in a gurgle as a sudden red gash opened in his throat.

Marie stared in shocked silence, still unsure of what she was seeing. The blur moving around the room had ignored her for the time being. Hold still. It was the staff. She listened, pressing deeper into the alcove.

A young girl walked out of the attic covered in streaks of red blood. She lifted a pale hand to her lips, tasting it. Her eyes followed the dying officer on the floor. “Yes, there was a good reason they nailed it shut. Clever boy.” She laughed, a chilling sound in the otherwise quiet room.

The officer sank to his knees, letting his gun fall to the floor with a clatter.

The girl turned toward Marie’s hiding place, meeting her eyes. “Unlike these two, you are interesting.” She smiled.

The staff jumped out in front to protect Marie, glowing purple once again.

The girl giggled. “No need for that. Thanks for the save.”

The door downstairs burst open and heavy footfalls echoed off the stairway. “Shots fired!” one of them yelled. “Paul, Mike, you up there?”

“That’s my cue.” The girl gave Marie a final smile and blurred out of the room. In the attic, glass shattered.

Marie stepped out from her alcove, shock and nausea overwhelming her. Mike looked up at her with pleading eyes, cradling the spot his arm had been. His face was pale as a sheet and the pool of blood at his feet said he had likely lost too much. The other man was making quiet choking noises in the corner, slumped with his back against the wall. The stench of blood rose in warm waves around her. The dusty landing smelled like death.

Still stunned, Marie walked back into the attic. An evening breeze blew through the now open window. Marie held her staff up to spread light, but it dimmed and went out. She looked down at the skull. “Hey!” she shouted. The purple fire was gone from its eyes and it made no pull on her hand. “Wake the hell up, I need you!”

The skull remained silent.

Marie turned back toward the stairs and held the staff out in front of her. It did nothing. “Don’t tell me you’re scared of a little vampire?” She was more than a little scared herself, but she suspected that wasn’t why it had suddenly lost its magic powers. Somewhere not too far away, The Baron was having a good laugh. Now, Marie was at the scene of a break in with two dead police officers in the middle of the night. It was dark, she was alone, and they were closing in. There was no way out.

Marie sank to her knees, trying to think straight. There’s no blood on you yet. People wouldn’t believe that she had nothing to do with the deaths, but if she sat still, the evidence would be with her. The courts wouldn’t protect, her, but the less harm she did, the better. It’s just breaking and entering. Maybe vandalism if someone gets nostalgic over a couple hundred holy nails. Marie laughed, a tired sound. It’s over, she told herself. Her best shot at surviving was making herself as little a threat as possible. She held the staff up again, looking into its eyes.

The polished skull looked back at her, the vacant form of something that was at one point alive.

“Well, screw you too.” Marie set the staff down on the floor and put her hands behind her head. “Someone, help! There’s two officers dead up here!” She put her head down, hoping to display that she wasn’t a threat. The smell of old, musty wood was powerful and calming. You’re going to live through this. You have to.

Quick footsteps came up the stairs and several flashlights were on her. “Jesus Christ,” said a woman, gagging. “Ma’am, keep your hands where I can see them.”

Awfully polite for a police officer. Marie counted her lucky stars and remained still.

Heavy boots approached, thundering through the quiet space. Cold metal closed around her wrists and before Marie knew it, she was being led past the bodies and back down the stairs. It was all supposed to be so simple. Thinking so had been a fool’s errand, that much was clear now. She thought of Ray waking up the following morning to find the other side of the bed empty. The car would still be gone, and he’d be alone. Instead of her comforting voice, he would hear the obnoxious ring of the telephone. It would be the one phone call Marie got at the station.

Several of the police officers muttered slurs under their breath as they exited the building, and for once, Marie didn’t blame them. By all accounts, she had butchered their colleagues. Walking out past the brigade of men and women with rifles, Marie’s spine twitched. The sheer amount of guns would be enough to make anyone nervous. The fact that she was in police custody made it worse. They all looked livid. Attached to every officer’s chest was a body camera, and Marie supposed those small pieces of accountability had saved her life. It didn’t offer much solace. One way or another, she was going to be taken away from her work for a long time.

She got into the police car without a struggle and tried her best not to flinch when she watched her staff placed in a black evidence bag. The hours searching through the swamps for the perfect piece of wood, and all the work she had done carving the runes, lost, possibly forever. From the back of the police car, it was the least of her worries. Lights flashed above her and the woman who had put her in cuffs sat down in the driver’s seat.

“You weren’t responding much up there.” She turned back to face Marie through the metal grate divider.

Marie hadn’t heard a word inside the building. Had someone been talking to her?

“Do you understand your rights?” There was sympathy in the woman’s voice.

“I do.” Marie wondered if the woman knew that a wooden staff wasn’t likely to tear a man’s arm off.

“That’s good. We’re going to take you into holding. From there, I imagine it’ll be a day or so until you’re transferred.”

Marie nodded silently and rested her head on the window. She looked up at the broken window, now a black sore on the exterior of the clean, white convent. A figure stepped into view, meeting her gaze. It was dark, but even at a distance, she was able to make out the faded top hat and swore she saw a glitter in his eyes.

Samedi tipped his hat to her, grinning in the moonlight.

Anger rose in Marie’s chest, but she knew the back of a police car was not the place to express it. The car pulled away and The Baron was blocked from view. Marie watched the shuttered exterior of the French Quarter pass by in a blur, still not entirely aware of what had happened. Everything had gone wrong so quickly. Her hands were shaking, and she realized that tears were running down her face. It was over. It was all over.

“Ray,” she whispered to no one in particular and choked off a sob. The police car sped off into the night.