And the second of the two new ones. Remember, I'm still putting them up two chapters at a time, don't miss the first one!
I should mention here that voodoo as portrayed in this story is my attempt to reconcile voodoo as portrayed in Starsky and Hutch (in the episode Murder on Playboy island), voodoo as portrayed in The Night Stalker (as portrayed in The Zombie) and voodoo as portrayed by H P Lovecraft (in the story The call of Cthulu), and should no be taken as a text-book accurate portrayal of real Voodoo the religion by any means.
I still don't own anyone or anything.
Chapter Fourteen – The Words of the Rainbow Serpent
Kolchak once again turned on his recorder:
"It was obvious I would get nowhere talking to the police detectives. But it occurred to me that their idea about Haitians might not be so far off the mark after all. Not drug dealers, though, but Voodoo practitioners. I had read in the library that one of the places the Cthulhu cultists had found converts was in the believers of Voodoo. Once, in 1908, there had even been a full-scale settlement of them in the swamps of Louisiana, and only by the efforts of John Raymond Legrasse, a dedicated New Orleans policeman, plainly much different from the Bay City variety, had disaster been averted. A reputable Voodoo bokor might know if anything similar was going on in Bay City.
Mary Polanski gave me the name Céline Des Champs as the most powerful bokor in Bay City, but declined to come with me to visit, saying that the bokor was too 'scary' for her.
Céline Des Champs, it turned out, had a small store on the bad side of town. I found it without to much difficulty, and parked around the corner. The store was dingy, the window filled with objects whose origins I didn't want to think about too much . The bells over the door tinkled ominously as I let myself in."
"Ah! Mr. Kolchak! I've been waiting for you!" The voice that came from the store's gloomy interior, high, cracked, and deeply accented, was shockingly familiar to Kolchak, a voice he had last heard years before in Chicago.
"Marie Edmonds!" he squawked. "You, you were deported! What are you doing here? Where's Céline Des Champs?"
The tiny, wizened woman behind the counter cackled. "Oh Mr. Kolchak! Do you think I would stay in the islands when my bebé, my François, is buried in this country, eh? No, I came back as quickly as I could. And surely my old friend Céline would not mind me using her identity now that she doesn't need it any more."
Kolchak shuddered, wondering just how the mamalois had ensured her "old friend" didn't need her identity. He wouldn't put murder past her.
"Now come in, Mr. Kolchak. Like I said, I have been expecting you. Have a glass of rum, eh?" She motioned him to a chair and reached for a bottle and glass from under the counter.
"No, thank you," Kolchak said emphatically. "And what do you mean, you were expecting me?" He warily sat down on the edge of the seat.
The bokor poured a glass and pushed it towards him. "Now, now, Mr. Kolchak. You had my rum once before and it did not harm you, did it? And as to expecting you, the bones told me you were coming." She waved her hand over the litter of organic detritus on the counter. Bones and other, less identifiable, objects were haphazardly scattered there.
"Harm me? You tried to murder me! You sent your grandson's animated corpse after me!"
"But I didn't harm you with the rum, did I? That would have been inhospitable." She reached out to pat his hand, and Kolchak recoiled instinctively. She laughed. "And I was only a little bit angry at you. I would have stopped François before he killed you."
"Like you stopped him before he committed his other murders?" Kolchak spluttered indignantly.
The bokor'seyes flashed dangerously, but her voice retained its amused condescension. "The only killing he did was retribution for his own death, Mr. Kolchak. The men he killed were full of evil. Surely you cannot say Chicago is any worse for their passing? In fact, is it not better that they are gone?"
"That's not the point! It was still murder!" Kolchak objected, though privately he had to admit that the organized crime figures that the mamalois had used her dead grandson to kill had all been dangerous, corrupt people, and Chicago probably was better off without them.
Marie Edmonds made a dismissive gesture. "We can argue that all day, Mr. Kolchak, and not come to an agreement. That is not why you are here anyway. Please, have a glass of rum, and let us talk."
That was true enough. Kolchak brought his mind back to the current situation. He settled more firmly in the chair. "So what did the bones tell you about why I'm here?" He cautiously took the glass of rum, but didn't drink it.
"The bones told me you were coming about something very important, Mr. Kolchak." Marie Edmonds cackled again, and poured herself a glass of rum, too. "I have a story to tell you, about a man they called The Blood Drinker."
"The... Blood Drinker?" Kolchak stammered.
Marie Edmonds nodded solemnly. "The Haitian Blood Drinker. He was strong, very strong." Her voice took on a singsong cadence, like someone telling a story. "A powerful bokor. He wanted to be the supreme papalois. He commanded the loas, he could call the orishas. But he grew arrogant, and he wanted power in the world of men rather than the world of the spirits."
She paused, and took a sip from her glass. "He made a deal to use his strength for money, much, much money, to help an evil woman get power, and he killed many people for her." She nodded, and added more quietly, as though to herself, "Many people indeed."
Then she cackled again. "But just when it seemed that the plans of the woman and the bokor were coming to fruit, two men from the mainland came to the little island where his plot was laid. They had no power with the spirits, they did not even know what they were fighting, and yet they destroyed his plans and ruined his schemes. They could do this because his evil and arrogance had caused many of the loas to forsake him, and the two men, who were innocents like yourself, Mr. Kolchak, had help they did not know of, from the loas."
She took a deeper swallow of her rum,as if to wet her throat, and went on, "So after the men were gone, the Blood Drinker was left bitter and angry, deserted by the loas, and alone. And then he turned to the other powers, the powers from outside." Her bright eyes looked knowingly at Kolchak. "You know of the powers of which I speak, no?"
Kolchak nodded slowly. "Yeah. I think I know what powers you mean."
"Sometimes it happens that way, you understand? When the bokor loses the friendship of the loas, or when he does not have the strength he thinks he deserves, he turns to other ways of growing strong. But those powers, they steal the mind and the sanity. The bokor, he is quite mad now. So he comes to this city, to seek revenge on the men who defeated him."
"And those men were Detectives Starsky and Hutchinson, I presume," Kolchak said, thinking aloud. "That's why Mary said the man she saw knew who they were and were watching them." It explained the watcher outside their house, too.
"I think those were the names, yes. But that is not important. What is important is that this man, this Papa Theodore, he is willing to destroy the world for his revenge. That is important."
"Yeah, I'd say the destruction of the world was important, all right!"
"So, Mr. Kolchak, for this reason, the loas have sent you to me, so that I may tell you this story and you may understand."
"So, do I get any help from the loas? Like telling me where can we find this Papa Theodore?"
Marie Edmonds laughed, a full laugh this time, not her usual cackle. "Oh, Mr. Kolchak! What do you want? Surely you know 'the gods help those who help themselves'? No, I cannot tell you where the papalois is. He is somewhere in this city. That is all I know. But here. Take this. Perhaps it will be of some little use." She reached under the counter, brought out a small object, and handed it to Kolchak.
He took it gingerly and examined it. It felt strangely warm in his hand. It was made of some greenish stone with a soapy feel, a five-pointed star shape, with the tips of the points truncated. There was a pattern of dots incised into its surface.
"What is this thing?" he asked, puzzled.
"If you do not know, then we are all doomed," Marie Edmonds said. "But I think you do know. What you do not know, what none of us know, is how it is to be used. But it is for you, for you to give to one who has the favor of the Opener of the Ways."
"The Opener of the Ways? Who's that? And who has his favor?"
"Don't you know anything Mr. Kolchak?" Marie's amusement was plain now. "The Opener of the Ways is Papa Legba, the Guardian of the Crossroads. Some say he is the same as Saint Lazarus, but others say he is Saint Michael the Angel."
"Michael?" Kolchak blurted.
"Yes, the Angel Michael. So, do you know now who should get that little trinket?"
"Yeah," Kolchak said thoughtfully. "I think maybe I do."
By the time I left Marie Edmonds, it was evening, and I foolishly decided to put off contacting the detectives until the next day. Little did I know what horrors would occur during the night."
Kolchak put his recorder away again.