Tandy slithered down the soulful streets of Faubourg Treme; a ghost amongst the shadows. The air was dense, ripe with the stench of petrichor and offered little respite from the thick blanket of fog that had descended upon the Big Easy the previous evening.
Nothin' good ever rolls in with the fog, she mused darkly, clinging to the lapels of her thick, beige peacoat. Her hair, bound in a high pony tail, trailed towards the small of her back and exposed her cheeks to the bitter cold.
Fearing that her truck would not make the moderate journey to Treme after her idiot brother's had taken to it with a wrench, Tandy had resorted to catching public transport instead, which, unsurprisingly, had not gotten her very far, at least, not at this time of night.
She cursed as, yet again, a sudden chill raced up her ankle. Groaning, she wiped the soles of her thigh-high boots against the wet gravel. The pavement was pocked by booby traps, puddles and pot-holes, and every step that she took ran the risk of landing straight into one. Like she just had. For the third time. It was like dodging land mines on an open battlefield. Heck, if they had been land mines then she'd have died fifty steps ago.
Tandy sighed, her lips curling into a rueful smile. It didn't help that the slurping, sucking sound of rubber against felt offered far less ambiguity than she would have liked. In any case, it was rumored that the streets weren't safe. If she didn't maintain her pace, the next puddle could be her last.
Swiftly, she made her way towards the centre of Governor Nicholls Street, her breath producing small clouds of white vapor that dissolved into the ominous blackness behind her. She shivered, likening it to the rum-drenched stench of black smoke that had invaded her every orifice just a few days before and paused as a waif-like figure approached her through the mist, accompanied by the tinny, clattering of metal objects.
Tandy narrowed her gaze and her hand hovered above the Colt Mustang clipped to her belt.
There were dangers here, lurking in the dark but not the kind that she was familiar with. At least, not yet. From what she had learned since her return home, New Orleans had become unfamiliar territory, inundated with devils, witches and a vast array of no-talent warlocks. Vampires plagued the streets, more common than the glow flies and the city itself had even given birth to a collection of new-fangled hell-spawn. Some called them demons, some new better. They were creatures of the night, a grotesque hybrid of some hellish variety.
Tandy grimaced. She had come back to a world gone mad. The near-apocalypse had been but a mere hurdle in the leaps and bounds that had lead up to, well, this, and whatever this was, it was big. A supernatural infestation like no one had ever seen before. No one knew where it had come from and no one knew how to stop it, but she, in spite of the odds, would endeavor to try. After all, she couldn't shake the feeling that Baron Samedi was somehow involved, and it was her mission to bring him down, whatever the cost.
Tandy bit on her lower lip and it split down the middle, chapped from the cold. Blood leaked into her mouth from the slight tear and despite her nausea, despite the way the subtle, metallic twinge drove her madly ill, she swallowed it. To add further insult to injury, big events in the supernatural realm often summoned big players, and big players, inevitably, would mean the Winchester's. Queue further stomach spasms and mental retching. But then, that's why she was here, wasn't it? Because she was avoiding them, because she was avoiding all of them. Surprisingly, it wasn't the supernatural scourge that was leading the Winchester's back to NOLA. They said that that was the reason, but only on the surface. She wished that it was the real reason. It should have been. It made more sense, much more sense than the mere fact that they were returning just because of, well, because of her; because of her phantom reappearance, her resurrection from death, though she hadn't technically died. And she had her mama to thank for all of that. She really wished that her mama had let them be, that she hadn't told them, but Maggie seemed to think that it was the right thing to do. Amnesia aside, Tandy would have agreed with her, had circumstances been different, but circumstances weren't different. She had to maintain a ruse and doing so would be much, much harder with them there, particularly Dean, who she told herself she was no longer carrying the torch for.
Yeah, right.
Shaking her head, Tandy steadied her hand over her Mustang, ready to draw it as the figure drew closer. Then, out of the shadows, a frail, old man appeared. He passed her slowly, his belongings rattling inside of a plastic bag that was fastened to his thin shoulder and he coughed into his dirty sleeve, his eyes yellow and sickly. He offered her a brief, toothless smile, his mouth a hollow cavern of darkness beneath the delicate moonlight, and she smiled in return, reaching past her gun to dig out the remnants of her bus fare from the depths of her coat pocket.
Quietly, she stuffed her change into the stranger's hand and she felt his rough palm close around it quickly before squeezing lightly, once, in silent appreciation. It wasn't much, but heck, it was better than nothing. The folks here were doing it hard, always had been. More-so since Katrina. Despite the bad rap that Treme seemed to receive, Tandy felt oddly safe. No one here would notice her sauntering amid the shadows, a young woman absent of color; no one would stop to bother her. No one would offer her trouble or try to rob her, not now, not when the people were more concerned with keeping themselves alive, much less anything else. Luckily, the influx had not yet afflicted the good people of Treme, but she knew that without intervention, without action, soon enough, the creatures would come howling.
Suddenly, St Augustine, a summit of pride and divinity, loomed before her, appearing out of the darkness in tall columns of white-washed brick and dripping rust, giving off the illusion, for all intents and purposes, that it was weeping blood. Thinking of a peculiar trench-coat clad cloud-hopper in particular, Tandy quickly crossed her chest and proceeded along the crooked footpath. She hugged the walls of the cathedral which projected pillars of gold across the decrepit pavement from its high, arched windows and wandered further down the streets.
Soon, The Gris Gris appeared before her, a trivial single-storey cottage crafted from thick, grey columns and black cladding. It was her mama's sanctuary, her brain child. It was her home away from home, a small store that she had purchased in the heat of the moment that had brought in even smaller revenue. It wasn't about the money though, not really. It was a nod towards her mama's altruistic nature, a gift to the people of Treme. Again, she found herself forgiving her mama for what she had done. Maggie had spent every waking moment of her existence giving back to the world, back to its people, making penance for her sins, for her mistakes and at the end of the day, that was what really mattered, wasn't it?
Carefully, Tandy mounted the short staircase and withdrew a key - the spare that she had stolen from her mama's dresser earlier that evening - and pressed it into the lock. Her mama had been so preoccupied with the party preparations that Cadence had given her, she'd barely even noticed her daughter's absence which was a relief, really, because ever since her return home a mere few days before, no one had given her much space to piss, let alone to breathe. Especially her mama.
Smiling, Tandy gave a small grunt and twisted the key to the right. Slowly, she pushed the door open with her shoulder, wincing at the sudden jolt of pain that shot down to her elbow. The old wound hadn't troubled her in months, not in that other place, but ever since being back, it was a constant reminder of that night. That night. The last one. The last night that she had been there, with them, and their faces had disappeared behind a cloud of smoke. Dean and Sam ... She'd thought that it was going to be forever. She didn't imagine that she would be seeing them again, alive, and yet, here she was, baiting her breath, avoiding the inevitable. Dean and Sam would be arriving in Thibodaux at any moment and she could stall for as long as she damn well liked, but she knew that she would have to face them eventually. Eventually ...
Tandy stumbled suddenly as the door gave way and she yelped, slipping on a fine film of ice that had threaded its way across the wooden entry step. Quickly, she caught herself before her ass met the pavement and sucked in a sharp breath before she staggered into the small boutique. Reaching for the light switch, Tandy covered her mouth and coughed, almost choking on the heady scent of cayenne pepper and black magic that had rushed up to meet her.
The soft, outpour of light emitted from the dim, orange bulbs stretched across the front of the store and offered little visibility. Tandy made a quick mental note to replace them as she crept down the narrow aisles that led towards the cashier's desk. Humming a nondescript jazz tune, she ran her index finger along the desk and examined the fine layer of dust that had collected there. She then rolled it into a ball and flicked it onto the floor, sighing loudly. Well, that wasn't going to cut it. Nope. Not at all. She was going to cleanse this city of its preternatural disease, and it began with making this little shack serviceable once more. The other hunters that had come to join them would need it, after all, they would need somewhere to store their artillery, and what better place than this?
Tandy removed her coat and draped it over the front stool, revealing a sleek, black turtle neck beneath it. Wetting a rag that she had recovered from the back storeroom in the adjoining bathroom, she then strode towards the front of the shop, a purposeful glint in her prismatic gaze. Suddenly, a footstool appeared mid-way down the aisle, as if out of nowhere, and Tandy stumbled over it before crashing to the floor in a graceless display of flailing arms and legs. A thick cloud of dust floated up from the floor to meet her and she sneezed once, then twice before she chuckled, acknowledging the irony.
Light bulbs, genius. Replace the dang light bulbs!
Somewhere, back in Thibodoux, they were raising glasses in her name, and here she was, elbows deep in filth, up-ended by a dang foot stool.
Languorously, Tandy lifted her head and pushed herself off of the floor, eyes searching for the wet rag through the subtle light.
She had work to do alright. Oh, she definitely had work to do.
Tandy was missing. Again. Only this time, it didn't feel quite so permanent, at least, not to him.
"C'mon, girl, where y'at?" Tommy breathed curiously, mostly to himself than to the raven-haired hostess before him.
In response, Cadence released a strangled huff - half-exulted, half-hysterical - and hid her trepidation beneath a painted smile as she kissed the cheeks of a young woman bearing a plate of tea cakes and deep, purple eyeshadow. She was a hunter, Tommy had learned, here to join them in their war against the unknown. Cadence, however, simply acknowledged her as a distant friend of the Kinsella's and kindly welcomed her into the throng. She was still in the dark about, well, things that were really in the dark and Tommy planned to keep it that way for as long as he could.
"Well, if I knew that, I'd be - " Cadence began, cutting off mid-sentence as her eyes grew narrow. Accepting the tea cakes, she turned away from their guest and set the plate down on the counter before him. "Y'know what, I think I might have a hunch." She conceded.
"A hunch?" Tommy teased lightly.
Cadence smirked. "Call it an educated guess."
Tommy swiped a large paw over his lower jaw and leaned forward, his maple-colored eyes reflecting the red and blue light bulbs that dangled, ceremoniously, above the bar.
"Well, babe, if anyone can find her, I'm sure it's you." He murmured, leaning forward to plant a chaste kiss Cadence's cheek.
Cadence laughed and gripped the voodooienne-apprentice-turned-bartender's collar tightly between her red-tipped fingers.
"Not enough." She chided, reaching upwards to capture his lower lip between her teeth. She'd never get enough of this man, she thought, or of the way his pale eyes - a contrast to his ebony skin - seemed to peer deep into her soul, like he was seeing her, really seeing her, in a way that no other man had before. She'd never get enough of the way that that made her feel, or the reason behind why they had finally gotten together ... and that reason at hand was, well, she was missing. Again. It was almost laughable, only it wasn't.
Thomas chuckled and drew back before glancing across the bar, nervous.
"Just hurry back, yeah? People are startin' to notice that Tandy is missin'. It ain't really a good look."
Cadence nodded and dashed the smear of lipstick from the corner of her mouth.
"Will do, sugar. Keep a cider cold for me." She ordered as she collected her coat. "The beer still tastes like cat piss."
Thomas smirked, his lips full, begging for her to kiss them just one more time, and winked. He probably wanted to make a joke about how, exactly, she knew what cat piss tasted like, but wisely chose to remain silent. Jack ass.
Cadence sighed and slid into her coat. Quickly, she snatched up her purse and slipped out of the bar, car keys jangling with each stride she took across the quickly filling lot.
Having just cleared the remaining shelves, Tandy bobbed down beside the front counter, her right ear angled towards the front of the store. Normally, she would have been alarmed by the subtle creak that came with opening the un-oiled fly-screen, but the reverberant clickitty-clack of high-end heels that soon followed caused her to smirk and she relaxed instead.
"Well, well, well, I thought I might find you here." Cadence drawled, peering down at Tandy, who was currently sitting, cross-legged behind the front counter. Her hiding place. Clearly, not a very good one.
"Dang, and here I thought no one would find me here." Tandy groaned, playful.
"See, that's how I knew 'xactly where to look. I told myself, Cay, always check the last place you'd expect to find Tandy Kinsella first and that's where she'll be. Ergo, The Gris Gris."
Tandy slapped her knee. "Foiled again by my devious bestie." She joked.
"You know, it's bad juju to miss your own welcome home party." Cadence admonished.
"And yet, here I am." Tandy breathed.
"And here I am." Cadence responded.
"You should go." Tandy said. "People will expect you to be there."
"Excuse me? Expect moi?" Cadence gasped, holding her fingers to her chest in mock exasperation. "I'm sorry, but who's party is it?" She replied.
Tandy sighed and pressed the back of her head against the desk. "I really wish you and Henry hadn't planned all'a this. It's stupid."
"Stupid?" Cadence choked. "Tandy, its a dang miracle!"
Tandy scoffed. Lost in the swamp for six months, found alive, only barely, by living off of the land. It sure as heck didn't sound like a miracle. It sounded like insanity. She couldn't believe that people had actually bought into that crap. Tandy had been raised in the swamp, had lived there her whole, entire life. There was no way that she would have gotten lost, much less survived for that period of time, know-how or not. She knew those channels like she knew her own name. It was impossible, and yet, people would believe what they wanted to. They would believe what was easier to swallow, even if it didn't make sense. For those people that weren't so gullible, well ... her mama was quick to set anyone straight who didn't fall in line with the faux congratulations. Even Isadora Beaudoin would be there. She was back, apparently, and she was just as curious to speak to Tandy as the rest of the damn town. Though, she was certain for other reasons, like Samedi-related reasons. No-one was deeper into the whole voodoo scene than Isadora, and she'd want to know every single detail that went down in her absence, and she'd want to hear it from Tandy's lips.
"People thought I'd died, Cay." Tandy murmured quietly, almost guilty.
"I know." Cadence responded softly, stooping to the floor beside her. She placed a soft, brown hand on Tandy's knee and smiled gently. "I was one of 'em."
"I'm bein' an asshole, ain't I?" Tandy asked, only half-joking.
Cadence chuckled and nodded. "Yeah, ya kind'a are."
Tandy released a deep breath and rose to her feet. She would go to this party and she would smile and she would laugh and she would drink. She would pretend like her existence was a damned beautiful miracle, a blessing from the God's, and she would be grateful for all that she had and for all that she had been given. Hell, she owed it to Cadence, she owed her that much, at least.
Offering Cadence her hands, Tandy smiled. "C'mon then, we better not keep 'em waitin' any longer."
Cadence accepted her hands and smirked. "That's my girl!" She cheered.
"You go ahead, I'll lock up." Tandy said, nudging her best friend towards the front door, and when Cadence began to spout off the promise of a big night, Tandy really hoped that she wouldn't live to regret this decision.
