Longarm and the Voodoo Queen Page 12

  Longarm hadn't been to the hotel much in the past few days, but he had been aware of the sound of hammering whenever he went in and out of the place. Now he understood the reason why. Viewing stands had been built all along the avenue, and they were already packed. It was doubtful that Longarm and the others would be able to find a place to sit. They would have to stand along the sidewalks with the hundreds of others who had gotten there a little too late to fit into the viewing stands.

  Annie noticed the same thing and mentioned it, then said, "But that's all right. When the floats pass by, we'll be able to catch some of the things the crew members toss down as they pass by."

  She went on to explain the tradition to Longarm and Claudette. Each year, the members of the societies that built the floats threw candy, flowers, and coins to the spectators who lined the parade route. The gifts were meant primarily for the children... but at Mardi Gras, everyone was a child, at least to a certain extent.

  Longarm, Annie, Claudette, and Paul Clement managed to find a place to stand near the front of the crowd. They were just in time, because not far away, someone shouted, "Here they come!"

  Annie leaned closer to Longarm's ear and called over the clamor, "Rex, the King of Mardi Gras, will be on the last float! It's quite an honor for the gentleman selected."

  Longarm supposed that was the case. He would have felt mighty funny dressing up in a mask and a gold crown and a long, fur-lined cape, so he was just as glad that he would never be the King of Mardi Gras.

  The huge, elaborate floats began rolling by, pushed along on their wheeled platforms by krewe members who were concealed under the layers of flowers and bunting. Cheers went up from the crowd as the costumed men atop the floats began tossing their gifts over the heads of the spectators. It seemed to be raining candy and flowers and coins. Longarm grinned and ducked his head as a particularly heavy shower of gifts pelted him. Beside him, Annie was gleefully plucking items out of the air. On the other side of her, Claudette was doing the same thing. Children swarmed around them, darting between them to scoop up the treats that had fallen to the sidewalk.

  Someone bumped heavily into Longarm from behind, and taken by surprise, he stumbled forward a step. As he caught his balance, he glanced back to see who had run into him, forcing down the irritation that was welling up inside him. Mardi Gras was no time to be losing his temper just because some old son was clumsy.

  The light from a torch on one of the passing floats glinted off steel. Longarm's eyes widened as he saw a man in a pirate costume thrusting a short cutlass at him.

  He would feel foolish if the cutlass turned out to be rubber and the "pirate" only playing, but Longarm had learned a long time ago it was better to be foolish than dead. He twisted, letting the blade pass harmlessly by him, and clamped his left arm down on the arm of the man holding the weapon. He drove his right fist into the man's midsection, sinking it almost to the wrist. Breath puffed out of the man's mouth.

  Longarm caught hold of his wrist and wrenched it, forcing the pirate to drop the blade. It clattered to the cobblestones, and the sound told Longarm that the cutlass was most definitely the real thing. For some reason, this piratical reveler had just tried to kill him.

  Close by, a woman screamed.

  Longarm brought his fist up and slammed it into the pirate's jaw. The blow didn't travel more than half a foot, but it had all of Longarm's strength behind it. The would-be killer's head slewed to the side, and he sagged against Longarm, stunned. Longarm let go of him and stepped back, allowing the man to slide to the ground. He didn't want the pirate to be trampled to death, but that scream had sounded like Annie, and he was more interested in making sure she was all right. He looked urgently through the crowd for her.

  She was gone.

  So was her brother, Longarm saw. No sign of Paul Clement met his searching gaze. Of course, in this crowd someone could be only a few feet away and be invisible. Claudette was still there, looking surprised and more than a little frightened. Longarm leaned close to her and shouted, "What happened?"

  "Paul and Annie, they are gone, them!" she replied. "I did not see where they went-"

  Longarm wasn't surprised. No one in the wildly celebrating crowd had even noticed when the pirate tried to run him through. Everyone was too caught up in the excitement of Mardi Gras.

  Which meant it was a damn good time to get rid of some enemies without anyone noticing.

  "Royale," muttered Longarm through clenched teeth.

  "What did you say?" asked Claudette, looking worried.

  Longarm shook his head. "Nothing. Let's get you out of here, and then I'll find Paul and Annie."

  He hoped he could make good on that statement. Royale clearly had spies everywhere, and he would know that the Clements were regular customers and friends of Jasper Millard's. It seemed unlikely that Royale would try to strike at Millard by hurting Annie and Paul... but none of Royale's other recent attempts had worked out exactly as planned. Royale could be getting desperate enough to kidnap the Clements and use them to try to force some concessions from Millard.

  Those thoughts raced through Longarm's brain in an instant as he gripped Claudette's arm and attempted to wedge a path through the crowd for them. Everyone was pushing forward, trying to get closer to the floats that were still passing by, and once again Longarm was struck by the similarity to swimming upstream. He and Claudette were making only scanty progress.

  How he heard the gun being cocked over the uproar was beyond him. Maybe it was instinct again. But something made him jerk around in time to see the little pistol being pointed at him by an Indian--or somebody made up to look like an Indian. Longarm's hand shot out and grabbed the barrel of the gun, twisting it upward just as it cracked spitefully. He heard the wicked whine of the bullet passing close beside his ear. It struck his hat and sent it spinning off his head. The Indian tried to bring the gun back to bear, but Longarm held it off while he brought his other hand up in a jabbing blow. With people all around him, there was no room to swing the roundhouse punch he wanted to throw.

  The jab was good enough. The Indian's head rocked back, and the pistol slipped from his fingers. Longarm shoved him away and turned back to Claudette, hoping nothing had happened to her.

  She was still there, but the crowd around her was clearing out a little. The gunshot had been loud enough to carry to the ears of the nearest revelers, and they were scurrying for cover. Several men shouted angry questions, and a couple of women cried out in fear. Longarm just grabbed Claudette's arm again and took advantage of the opportunity to plunge through the momentary opening in the crowd.

  The whole place might be full of assassins, he realized. Like a damn fool, he had come out here to have a good time, and Royale's hired killers had followed him. He still had no idea what had happened to Annie and Paul, but there was no time to search for them now. He had to get Claudette to someplace where she would be safe.

  For several yards, they were able to hurry along the sidewalk, but then the crowd closed in around them again. These people further along the block had not heard the shot, and did not know that a murder attempt was occurring in their midst. Frustrated, Longarm tightened his grip on Claudette's hand and pulled her toward the only open space he saw.

  Together, they ran into the street, darting between two of the floats.

  A startled shout went up from the krewe members on the next float in line. Longarm turned and began running alongside the colorful procession, tugging Claudette along with him. It was as if they were part of the parade, despite the fact that neither of them wore costumes. More shouts of surprise trailed them. Interfering with the Mardi Gras parade was unheard of. Not even those who had drunk far too much champagne would dare such a thing.

  Longarm looked back and saw that he and Claudette weren't the only ones ignoring tradition tonight. Several men were pursuing them: a clown, a devil, and a man in the buckskins and coonskin cap of an early-day frontiersman. Dan Rice, Satan, and Davy Crockett, Longarm thou
ght wildly. But the guns in their hands made them a deadly trio.

  Those guns began to bang, and again there were screams as the crowd broke and ran for cover. The parade came to a screeching halt. Longarm ducked around another float, crossing back to the side of the street where he and Claudette had started. The would-be killers veered after them, firing again. Longarm heard bullets whip past his head, and hoped that the stray shots didn't hit anybody in the crowd.

  He hoped as well that Captain Denton had some officers assigned to the parade route, but so far Longarm hadn't seen any police. Maybe they knew better than to interfere with Mardi Gras. It was certainly beginning to look like Longarm couldn't count on any help from that quarter.

  Shoving Claudette on ahead of him, he turned and palmed out his Colt. He took careful aim and squeezed off a quick shot, and the clown stumbled, clutching at the leg Longarm's bullet had just ventilated. The brightly garbed killer tumbled off his feet, shouting curses. The Devil and Davy Crockett came on without slowing down. The guns in their hands blasted.

  Longarm turned and ran again, thankful that Claudette hadn't slowed while he paused to cut down the odds. She was several yards in front of him now. She threw a frightened glance over her shoulder to make sure he was still behind her.

  The mouth of an alley loomed up on their right. "In there!" called Longarm, indicating the alley with a wave of his gun hand as Claudette looked back again. She made the turn, stumbling only a little as she did so. Longarm plunged into the gloom of the alley behind her. Here in the thick shadows, Claudette was forced to slow down, and he caught up with her in a matter of seconds.

  "Custis!" she panted, breathless from both exertion and fear.

  "Keep going," he told her. "I'll slow them down again."

  As he stopped and turned, he saw two figures loom up at the mouth of the alley, silhouetted by the light from the street behind them. One shape was indistinct, but the other was clearly marked by horns and a tail. Longarm triggered twice, aiming low. The muzzle blasts lit up the alley for an instant like orange lightning, and the roar of the shots was deafening in these narrow confines. Longarm couldn't tell if he had done any damage or not. Both of the pursuers fired, and brick chips thrown out by the bullets as they struck the building beside Longarm stung his face.

  Behind him somewhere, Claudette let out a scream and shouted, "Custis!" Her voice was filled with mortal fear.

  Longarm whirled around, leery of turning his back to the assassins, but knowing that he had to see what was happening to Claudette. He ran down the alley, heedless of any obstacles that might be in his path, veering from side to side to make himself a more difficult target. Suddenly, without any warning, he emerged into a small rear courtyard behind the buildings, and enough light came from the windows for him to see what was going on.

  Despite the warmth of the night, his blood froze at the scene laid out before him.

  Claudette was struggling in the grip of a huge black man in work clothes. She flailed at him and clawed his face, but he didn't seem to even feel the blows. He wasn't trying to hurt her, but he was holding her in an unbreakable grip.

  Another man was shuffling toward Longarm, arms outstretched, his face as dull and lacking in expression as that of his companion. Longarm took one look at him and uttered a heartfelt, "Shit!"

  The Devil and Davy Crockett behind him, bent on filling him full of lead, and a pair of equally murderous zombies in front of him...

  It was times like this that made a fella wonder why he had ever pinned on a lawman's badge in the first place.

  CHAPTER 12

  The two pursuers burst out of the alley into the courtyard and opened fire just as the dead-eyed man lunged toward Longarm. Longarm threw himself to the side, rolling out of the way. The gunmen couldn't stop their trigger fingers in time, and several shots roared out.

  But instead of hitting Longarm, the bullets thudded into the broad chest of the huge black man who had tried to grab him. Just as before, the slugs barely slowed the man. Unable to stop his single-minded charge, he crashed into the two costumed bushwhackers. They yelled in horror as his hands found their throats. More shots roared, the explosions muffled by the huge body.

  Longarm came up in a crouch, knowing that for the time being at least, three of his enemies were occupied with each other. That left Claudette, who was still struggling in the grip of the other... well, zombie. There was nothing else to call them, thought Longarm. He reversed his hold on the Colt and threw himself at the figures swaying in the shadows.

  Even in this gloom, he could make out the man who towered over Claudette. Longarm brought the Colt down, slamming the butt of the gun against the back of the man's skull. There was no response, so he struck again and then again. Finally, after the third blow, the man shoved Claudette aside and swung around toward Longarm, his movements slow and lumbering but no less dangerous.

  From the corner of his eye, Longarm saw Claudette stumble backwards to lean against the side of a building as she gasped for breath. He flipped the gun around so that its barrel pointed toward the huge shape. Even though he knew he was probably wasting his breath, he said harshly, "Hold it right there, old son! I don't want to have to kill you!"

  These men, entranced just like the first one who had stalked Longarm, were not acting of their own accord. Longarm was convinced of that. Someone had put a spell on them--or drugged them, that was the more rational explanation--and sent them after him. Who had done that, and why, he didn't know. Royale was the best bet, but he had no proof that Royale used voodoo. The zombies looked like dockworkers. They were probably innocent men who had been turned into living weapons, and now that he knew what he was facing, Longarm didn't want to have to shoot them.

  But there might not be any other way to stop them. Even now, the second man, the one who had been hit by several shots from the two gunmen, was climbing ponderously back to his feet, leaving two motionless figures sprawled on the alley floor behind him, their heads set at odd angles. The Devil and Davy Crockett had come to a bad end.

  And so would Longarm and Claudette if they didn't get out of here.

  One advantage they had over the creatures was that the zombies were slow. Longarm darted around the one coming toward him, easily avoiding a clumsy swipe of the man's ham-like hand. He grabbed Claudette's arm and said, "Come on!"

  They broke into a run, dashing from the courtyard into another alley that opened off it. Once again Longarm and Claudette raced along blindly, convinced that anything they might run into in the darkness wouldn't be as bad as what was behind them. For a moment, Longarm could hear the shuffling sounds of pursuit, but then the noises faded away as he and Claudette emerged onto another street. He had no idea where they were. They were among people again, though, and he was grateful for that. This street was nowhere near as packed as St. Charles Avenue had been, but there were enough revelers on the sidewalks for them to be able to blend into the crowd. Longarm slid his gun back into its holster before anyone could notice it, then led Claudette in a fast walk along the sidewalk. They weaved in and out of the celebrating pedestrians.

  Quite a few people on this street were wearing costumes too, but none of them paid any attention to Longarm and Claudette. Longarm hoped that the pirate, the Indian, the clown, the devil, and the frontiersman had been the only assassins after him tonight. But who had sent them, and why had those zombies popped up like that? Had they been trailing him too? And what the hell had happened to Paul and Annie Clement? Longarm figured he had better get back to the Brass Pelican and find out if Millard had heard anything. If Royale had kidnapped the Clements, it had to be because of their connection with Millard, so it was natural to assume that he would get in touch with Millard to present his ransom demands.

  Longarm's jaw tightened. He hoped like blazes that the next time around, Billy Vail would assign him to a case that was a mite simpler--like finding one particular blade of grass in the whole damned Great Plains!

  After a few minutes, Longar
m got his bearings and turned toward the waterfront. Claudette's hand tightened on his arm. "Custis," she said, "what are we to do?"

  "I have to find out if Millard knows anything about what happened to Annie and Paul," said Longarm. "It's a pretty complicated business, Claudette, but Millard has an enemy who might try to get at him through his friends."

  Claudette nodded. "This enemy, he is a voodoo priest, no?"

  "Now, I just don't know about that," Longarm answered honestly.

  "Only a priest or priestess of voudun could send those zombies after you."

  Longarm shot a glance at her. "You know about things like that?"

  "Gran'pere, his gran'mama was from Haiti. The slavers, they bring her there from Africa, long, long ago. Voudun was a religion there, and she was a high priestess, you see. She know all them rituals and how the religion got turned into voodoo... black magic. As a boy, Gran'pere hear the stories she tell, and he believe, you bet. I remember once, he been feudin' with this other fella who live round the bayou, and Gran'pere come to N'Awleans, buy himself a gris-gris--what you call a black magic charm--from Marie Laveau. He leave it on the fella's doorstep, and that fella, he get sick and like to die."

  "But he didn't die?" asked Longarm, interested in this bizarre tale.

  Claudette shook her head. "No. But he would have, you bet, if he had not come up here and bought a gris-gris of his own from the Voodoo Queen, what they call Marie Laveau."

  "So he bought something to ward off the black magic your granddaddy sicced on him."

  Claudette nodded.

  "And he bought it from the same person who sold the original charm to Gran'pere," said Longarm.

  "That is right."

  Despite the harrowing night he had had, Longarm had to chuckle. "So this Marie Laveau gets 'em coming and going. Sounds like a pretty smart businesswoman."