CHAPTER THREE - DARK MAGICKS RISING
It was the next night. Drusilla had known what she was doing of course, even with mad lust working it's will on her. She hadn't hurt Django's manhood too badly. Besides, she'd always felt scars gave a man character. It was always good to spice up things a bit, stop them from getting tired. Drusilla tittered softly at the memory. What wicked games would she have planned for tonight?
She and Django were in their hotel, walking through the foyer. Drusilla was dressed in a lovely black evening gown which accentuated her every curve. Django of course, was reluctant to give up his weather beaten duster and so was still her very own cowboy for the night. Drusilla was secretly peeved that she hadn't persuaded him to dig into his cultural roots and wear a kilt for the night. She remembered how enticing she'd found it when she'd seen Spike wearing one, during one of their little run ins as enemies. Spike had had to wear trousers underneath of course (or perhaps knee length socks would have done?). Drusilla was sure that Django wouldn't have had to do the same.
They passed by a grieving family, waiting on their luggage. "Poor dears." Drusilla commented. "Their son was found dead, out in the coal shed. The local police think he must have run into a wild boar or something."
"Or maybe one of those other zombies." Django added grimly.
"Oh that's right!" Drusilla exclaimed with butter wouldn't melt in her mouth enthusiasm. "I hadn't thought of that!" Django looked at her curiously. Every time he thought he had his girl figured, she revealed yet another mystery to him. That was part of her appeal of course.
They were moving through the bar area on their way to the dining area. There was a young man at the bar in a lumberjack shirt, jeans and cowboy boots. As he turned his head, Drusilla found herself gasping in recognition. "Lindsey?" And it was! He saw her and recognition dawned. "Lindsey McDonald from Wolfram & Hart, as I live and.....well unlive I should say."
"Drusilla." Lindsey nodded cordially, although Drusilla couldn't help noticing a little sadness and bitterness in his voice.
"Friend of yours, Dru?" Django asked, curious. He hoped that was all he was of course. He'd be happy for all Drusilla's old flames to just burn out.
"He was Grandmum's and my lawyer in L.A.." Drusilla said in an aside to her cowboy protector. She smiled at Lindsey and took his hands. He was a little unshaven and looked like he'd been having a few rough nights. But there was still that lovable Lindsey glow about him that had made him a favourite little plaything of her and Grandmama's when they'd been briefly reunited in mischief. "What brings you to our lovely little hotel?"
"Your hotel?" Lindsey repeated, impressed. "I had no idea actually. There was a Redneck Convention being held in Haiti last week and I just decided to stay over and see more of it. I haven't seen you since...." He dropped off, unable to finish. Eyes welling up a little. Poor little lamb.
"Grandmum." Drusilla nodded in understanding, her own voice cracking a bit. "Granddaughter!" she added, with even more sadness. I'm not going to cry, she crossly told herself.
"Well." Lindsey tried to stop himself dwelling. He realised he'd been rude, not taking more interest in Drusilla's new ventures. She'd been good to his Darla. Saved her when she was dying and telling him where to find her after....that bastard had set fire to them both. "I'm being rude. Is this your boyfriend? Vampire too, I presume?"
"Oh no!" Drusilla laughed with mirth. "Django's my boyfriend all right! Quite a catch he is too but he's....." Suddenly Drusilla felt awkward, remembering something. Her and Darla laughing in poor Lindsey's face about the very idea that a vampire could be in love with a human. "He's a human." Drusilla' s voice was barely audible, crushed by the realisation of the ironic twist of fate. She was feeling very awkward now and wanted to move on.
"A human!" Lindsey's voice almost had a triumphant ring to it. Drusilla could tell he was thinking of the same memory. "Things have come a long way since the old days." he laughed. "Well, well, well! I won't keep you lovebirds any longer. Excuse me, won't you? You look particularly radiant tonight, Dru." He shook Django's hand. "Django, you're a lucky man. I wish you both well." And with a last little leer in Drusilla's face he was gone.
Drusilla looked downward with embarrassment and annoyance. She sucked in her breath and took Django's hand, as she continued on her way to the dining area. "What was that about?" Django was asking. Then he almost fell over by Drusilla's side. "Dru love! I think my hand needs to circulate a bit. Dru!"
Just as they were getting to the dining area, there came a great commotion. All sorts of screaming and chairs being knocked over. Drusilla let go of Django's hand and ran towards the chaos. Django stumbled after her, flexing his fingers to get the blood working again.
The hotel guests were all up in arms over their meal. On all the plates on the tables, there were great writhing masses of snakes. Drusilla's eyes narrowed. If she were to find out that those silly zombies in the kitchen had gotten the menu wrong again....but no, from the horror of the guests, it was obvious that this was a sudden transformation that had taken place.
"By jove!" a British retired Colonel was shaking his head, as others were losing their lunch or stampeding to the exit. "This just isn't cricket!"
"It's the damndest thing!" a Texan businessman on holiday was drawling in disbelief. "Ma roast buffalo oughtn't to have changed just like that! Lawdy Miss Clawdy!"
"Legendre!" Drusilla hissed. It had to be him behind this.
****
Django and Dru had no sooner gotten the meal debacle sorted out than there was another commotion calling their attention. They were on their way upstairs again to their room. It was on the second floor lobby that they heard a woman scream and went to check on it.
Loretta King had been staying with them as arranged, for her safety and in case she could be of some use to her new friends. Now she was being accosted outside her room, by a dishevelled looking man. He was youngish, or at least had been not so long ago. His clothes had been cut from some fine cloth, originally. Everything seemed wrong on him now. His clothing was torn and crumpled. His dirty blond hair was a wild mess. Bags were under his eyes, as if he hadn't slept in days. He held a cloth napkin with some powder on it.
"You had to pry into my business, didn't you? Now he thinks that I failed him. It was I who made the deal with him to have your sister under my power." The man's voice trembled with insanity. "I didn't mean for her to become like a mindless zombie! I just wanted her for my own! But it doesn't have to be that way with you. I'm sure it'll work this time. You'll still remember everything and we can be happy." His eyes throbbed with revelation. "You will love me for all eternity! The Master's strange powder will work my will on you!"
"Help me someone!" Loretta screamed. "He's a madman!"
"What's going on?" Django ran up to confront the man.
"It's the landowner that Janet was staying with." Loretta explained through her terror. "The things he's saying are mad! And I think he has zombie powder!"
"You will be mine!" the man commanded with desperation. He tried to push past Django with the napkin pointed towards Loretta. Loretta screamed. Django punched the man square in the face, knocking him back against the pot plant outside Loretta's door.
"No!" the landowner shouted to the air around him. "I didn't fail you! Another chance master! I know I can convince her to come over to our side. Please! Nooooooo!" The man was screaming now and holding his head, as if it were going to explode. He fell in a heap.
Loretta was sobbing. Django patted her and let her cry on his shoulder. Drusilla was curious. She approached the human heap on the floor and looked closer. She tapped the man's chest with her heel, and sprung back a step when the man's body began to convulse from within. More snakes started to burst forth from the man's body, which turned ashen and crumpled in on itself. Django felt like he was going to vomit.
"Ewww!" Drusilla squirmed in disgust. She turned to her companions and wondered why they were making such a big deal of it. "It's alright!" she explained, like a nursery school teacher. "I didn't really step on it. Look!" she took her shoe off and held it to them to examine.
Drusilla's eyes narrowed after a bit. She'd began to notice that Loretta liked Django's shoulder a little too much. "Do you like to mud wrestle dearie? Become quite good at it I have."
"Come on love." Django gently restrained her and took his shoulder back from Loretta who was drying her eyes, sobs dying to sniffles. "I know you're just upset with all that's been going on lately. Especially tonight with the snakes and now this."
"The Zombie Master is coming after you now, isn't he?" Loretta dabbed her eyes with a tissue. "I can help I think! I was doing some research in the library the other day. There's a protection spell you can use to ward off evil spells."
Drusilla was miffed of course, that she hadn't thought of that. Turning on her heels, she sped off. "To the library then, dears!"
****
The following night and all was prepared for the ritual. Drusilla had insisted on reading up on it all herself of course, making sure that Loretta had been right. They were out in a clearing, away a bit from the old plantation house. Some of their loyal zombies were stood guard over the proceedings. Drusilla had also invited some of their friends from other parts of Haiti to attend, the ones who had welcomed the influx of new blood to island goings on. They had all been instructed to bring lovely presents of course. Some had brought more zombies to the cause. More numbers were always helpful, but it also meant more wayward children to supervise.
Drusilla had a new doll which she had named Miss Death, that she was clutching to her bosom as she caressed it's straw hair. A present of course. It would have been the most beastly thing, to Drusilla as a human. Now of course, she loved it. It's crude carved out coconut face and symbols of death and sacrifice on it's misshapen little body. Drusilla hummed to it as she searched it's dolly soul for special powers. Drusilla was dressed in her flowing ceremonial robes of course, with a warm woollen shawl to protect her against the chill wind. She was sitting on the antique chair that was her throne, as she surveyed the lighting of the blazing ritual torches.
Miss Edith was present and had of course noticed her mistress's preference for the new doll. Hideous looking thing! She was sat beside Django on a tree stump, her back to the proceedings and her traitorous mummy. Django assumed of course that the wind had blown her round the wrong way. He was sitting attentively, cradling his rifle in his lap. This was an important ritual to Drusilla, what with all the goings on of late, and her protector wanted it to go smoothly without interruption.
"I had never guessed you were both so involved in the local community." Loretta was saying beside Django, as she surveyed the preparations. "It's really quite exciting that you've been able to get some of the other local practitioners on your side. Legendre is quite feared around here you know. I feel awfully silly thinking I could tell you about protection rituals you'd probably already heard of."
"Pay it no mind." Django dismissed Loretta's concerns. "We appreciate the extra help. Besides we have a common enemy. I wouldn't mention that name again tonight though. Drusilla's very into her rituals and might consider it a bad omen."
Loretta was about to ask Django more about him and his loved one, how they'd come to meet and such. But seeing Drusilla rise from her chair in the centre of the gathering, informed her that the ritual was about to begin. Loretta shivered. There was something about all this that still creeped her out. But she knew that Django and Drusilla were the best allies she could find at the moment and she was determined to avenge her sister if she could.
Drusilla started swaying and chanting, the other local practitioners soon joining in with their parts. The others weren't really necessary to the ritual of course, but it was hoped that it would add more strength to the spells and invocations. Many of the locals hadn't been sure until recently that Murder Legendre was still around causing trouble. Recent gossip however had made them reconsider and they were fearful. That's why the braver ones had welcomed Drusilla and her human companion so well into the local fold. It was hoped that Drusilla could somehow be the one to deliver them from Legendre's outlived reign.
Drusilla began to dance wildly as she felt the spirits caress her. They were such a frisky lot tonight and oooh, what a naughty boy that one was! Drusilla felt herself going into a trance as she gyrated. She was hoping to please the Voodoo gods on this night. Hoping they would heed the request of their fetching Voodoo Princess.
Suddenly however Drusilla felt a bad feeling cloud over her. She looked around. No one else was around. "What do you really hope to accomplish tonight, my dear?" a Hungarian accent confronted her from the shadows. Drusilla spun to face it and came face to face with a strange man. He was all darkly dressed and very European, a gypsy air to him. Drusilla wrinkled her nose. She didn't like gypsies. They were always spoiling vampire fun.
The elderly but well featured man continued to taunt Drusilla. She tried to ignore him and continue with her dance. Maybe the ritual could still go on. But still the man mocked her. "You don't really think your puny attempts can ward off my work do you, little blossom? I have commanded respect and fear from all around these parts, for almost as long as you were gallivanting about with your dead blonde poet. You really think that you can learn enough to fight my work?"
Drusilla was losing concentration. The way the man was waving his hands around while she danced, made her dizzy and she lurched to a stop. She looked to her enemy and felt an involuntary whimper rising from her. Where was her Django? Why was he letting this horrid man talk to her like this? "Are you Murder Legendre?" Drusilla asked like a kitten. "Do you want to hurt us?"
The Hungarian laughed. "Oh my dear! I don't have to hurt you. There are other ways! Do not think that being a vampire can protect you from zombification! There are certain rituals....enchantments known to me that can arrest your demon lodger in stasis and make you subservient. Do not try to fight me so, or it will go very badly for you and your....companion!"
Drusilla gasped, in something far closer to fear than she'd felt in sometime. He was a menace to her, this one. Those horrid eyes flashing at her, making her feel dizzy. Those spider like hands trying to entrap her thoughts in their weavings. "You be a good little doll." Murder Legendre grinned at his victim. "Like Miss Death!"
****
Django stood up as he saw Drusilla screaming. Something in the chill of his blood told him this wasn't just part of the ritual. "It's the doll!" Loretta was pointing in terror. "Look at it!" Django looked. Sure enough there was a purplish mist rising from it's gaping hole of a mouth. It's horrible stump of a face seemed aflame with malevolence as Drusilla tried to shake it from her. It clung to her!
Django ran to it and hit the hideous Miss Death with the butt of his rifle. He had the thing down on the ground and was beating at it again and again. Splitting it into tiny shards. Loretta was up behind him with one of the flaming torches. Her own experiences with evil sorcery meant she wasn't taking any chances. She lit the remains of the doll, which smouldered with a ghastly stink.
Django was with his girl. Drusilla had stumbled onto the ground and was shaking and clutching herself. She pointed to one of the men gathered. "It was him! It was him! He brought the evil thing!"
The man, a native of Haiti born and bred, tried to flee but Django leapt up again and fired his rifle. Some of the other Haitians also had guns and followed Django's example. The traitor fell in an orgy of bullets.
Everyone was spooked by now of course. A swift wind blew up on the proceedings and blew the torches out and scattered the markings for the ritual. Malevolent laughter filled the night air until the wind ceased. The others began to run off and the zombies were stumbling around wildly out of control.
"Bring me Miss Edith." Drusilla murmured to Django weakly. He complied and his distressed damsel clutched her beloved dolly, stroking at it. "There, there. Shhh, Miss Edith." She became agitated with it. "Django, she's laughing at me!" Django glared warningly at the doll. His own fondness for it would only go so far, when it was being so cruel to it's owner.
"We have to leave Haiti, love!" Django pleaded with his beaten down daisy. "It's becoming too dangerous for us. I don't want anything else to happen to you."
"But I want to summon my giant squid!" Drusilla sobbed. "It's been down there waiting ever so long to come up and see us. And besides, I don't think he'll let us go now. He's enjoying hurting us too much."
I'll kill that bastard, Django thought. He just needed to find out how......
It was the next night. Drusilla had known what she was doing of course, even with mad lust working it's will on her. She hadn't hurt Django's manhood too badly. Besides, she'd always felt scars gave a man character. It was always good to spice up things a bit, stop them from getting tired. Drusilla tittered softly at the memory. What wicked games would she have planned for tonight?
She and Django were in their hotel, walking through the foyer. Drusilla was dressed in a lovely black evening gown which accentuated her every curve. Django of course, was reluctant to give up his weather beaten duster and so was still her very own cowboy for the night. Drusilla was secretly peeved that she hadn't persuaded him to dig into his cultural roots and wear a kilt for the night. She remembered how enticing she'd found it when she'd seen Spike wearing one, during one of their little run ins as enemies. Spike had had to wear trousers underneath of course (or perhaps knee length socks would have done?). Drusilla was sure that Django wouldn't have had to do the same.
They passed by a grieving family, waiting on their luggage. "Poor dears." Drusilla commented. "Their son was found dead, out in the coal shed. The local police think he must have run into a wild boar or something."
"Or maybe one of those other zombies." Django added grimly.
"Oh that's right!" Drusilla exclaimed with butter wouldn't melt in her mouth enthusiasm. "I hadn't thought of that!" Django looked at her curiously. Every time he thought he had his girl figured, she revealed yet another mystery to him. That was part of her appeal of course.
They were moving through the bar area on their way to the dining area. There was a young man at the bar in a lumberjack shirt, jeans and cowboy boots. As he turned his head, Drusilla found herself gasping in recognition. "Lindsey?" And it was! He saw her and recognition dawned. "Lindsey McDonald from Wolfram & Hart, as I live and.....well unlive I should say."
"Drusilla." Lindsey nodded cordially, although Drusilla couldn't help noticing a little sadness and bitterness in his voice.
"Friend of yours, Dru?" Django asked, curious. He hoped that was all he was of course. He'd be happy for all Drusilla's old flames to just burn out.
"He was Grandmum's and my lawyer in L.A.." Drusilla said in an aside to her cowboy protector. She smiled at Lindsey and took his hands. He was a little unshaven and looked like he'd been having a few rough nights. But there was still that lovable Lindsey glow about him that had made him a favourite little plaything of her and Grandmama's when they'd been briefly reunited in mischief. "What brings you to our lovely little hotel?"
"Your hotel?" Lindsey repeated, impressed. "I had no idea actually. There was a Redneck Convention being held in Haiti last week and I just decided to stay over and see more of it. I haven't seen you since...." He dropped off, unable to finish. Eyes welling up a little. Poor little lamb.
"Grandmum." Drusilla nodded in understanding, her own voice cracking a bit. "Granddaughter!" she added, with even more sadness. I'm not going to cry, she crossly told herself.
"Well." Lindsey tried to stop himself dwelling. He realised he'd been rude, not taking more interest in Drusilla's new ventures. She'd been good to his Darla. Saved her when she was dying and telling him where to find her after....that bastard had set fire to them both. "I'm being rude. Is this your boyfriend? Vampire too, I presume?"
"Oh no!" Drusilla laughed with mirth. "Django's my boyfriend all right! Quite a catch he is too but he's....." Suddenly Drusilla felt awkward, remembering something. Her and Darla laughing in poor Lindsey's face about the very idea that a vampire could be in love with a human. "He's a human." Drusilla' s voice was barely audible, crushed by the realisation of the ironic twist of fate. She was feeling very awkward now and wanted to move on.
"A human!" Lindsey's voice almost had a triumphant ring to it. Drusilla could tell he was thinking of the same memory. "Things have come a long way since the old days." he laughed. "Well, well, well! I won't keep you lovebirds any longer. Excuse me, won't you? You look particularly radiant tonight, Dru." He shook Django's hand. "Django, you're a lucky man. I wish you both well." And with a last little leer in Drusilla's face he was gone.
Drusilla looked downward with embarrassment and annoyance. She sucked in her breath and took Django's hand, as she continued on her way to the dining area. "What was that about?" Django was asking. Then he almost fell over by Drusilla's side. "Dru love! I think my hand needs to circulate a bit. Dru!"
Just as they were getting to the dining area, there came a great commotion. All sorts of screaming and chairs being knocked over. Drusilla let go of Django's hand and ran towards the chaos. Django stumbled after her, flexing his fingers to get the blood working again.
The hotel guests were all up in arms over their meal. On all the plates on the tables, there were great writhing masses of snakes. Drusilla's eyes narrowed. If she were to find out that those silly zombies in the kitchen had gotten the menu wrong again....but no, from the horror of the guests, it was obvious that this was a sudden transformation that had taken place.
"By jove!" a British retired Colonel was shaking his head, as others were losing their lunch or stampeding to the exit. "This just isn't cricket!"
"It's the damndest thing!" a Texan businessman on holiday was drawling in disbelief. "Ma roast buffalo oughtn't to have changed just like that! Lawdy Miss Clawdy!"
"Legendre!" Drusilla hissed. It had to be him behind this.
****
Django and Dru had no sooner gotten the meal debacle sorted out than there was another commotion calling their attention. They were on their way upstairs again to their room. It was on the second floor lobby that they heard a woman scream and went to check on it.
Loretta King had been staying with them as arranged, for her safety and in case she could be of some use to her new friends. Now she was being accosted outside her room, by a dishevelled looking man. He was youngish, or at least had been not so long ago. His clothes had been cut from some fine cloth, originally. Everything seemed wrong on him now. His clothing was torn and crumpled. His dirty blond hair was a wild mess. Bags were under his eyes, as if he hadn't slept in days. He held a cloth napkin with some powder on it.
"You had to pry into my business, didn't you? Now he thinks that I failed him. It was I who made the deal with him to have your sister under my power." The man's voice trembled with insanity. "I didn't mean for her to become like a mindless zombie! I just wanted her for my own! But it doesn't have to be that way with you. I'm sure it'll work this time. You'll still remember everything and we can be happy." His eyes throbbed with revelation. "You will love me for all eternity! The Master's strange powder will work my will on you!"
"Help me someone!" Loretta screamed. "He's a madman!"
"What's going on?" Django ran up to confront the man.
"It's the landowner that Janet was staying with." Loretta explained through her terror. "The things he's saying are mad! And I think he has zombie powder!"
"You will be mine!" the man commanded with desperation. He tried to push past Django with the napkin pointed towards Loretta. Loretta screamed. Django punched the man square in the face, knocking him back against the pot plant outside Loretta's door.
"No!" the landowner shouted to the air around him. "I didn't fail you! Another chance master! I know I can convince her to come over to our side. Please! Nooooooo!" The man was screaming now and holding his head, as if it were going to explode. He fell in a heap.
Loretta was sobbing. Django patted her and let her cry on his shoulder. Drusilla was curious. She approached the human heap on the floor and looked closer. She tapped the man's chest with her heel, and sprung back a step when the man's body began to convulse from within. More snakes started to burst forth from the man's body, which turned ashen and crumpled in on itself. Django felt like he was going to vomit.
"Ewww!" Drusilla squirmed in disgust. She turned to her companions and wondered why they were making such a big deal of it. "It's alright!" she explained, like a nursery school teacher. "I didn't really step on it. Look!" she took her shoe off and held it to them to examine.
Drusilla's eyes narrowed after a bit. She'd began to notice that Loretta liked Django's shoulder a little too much. "Do you like to mud wrestle dearie? Become quite good at it I have."
"Come on love." Django gently restrained her and took his shoulder back from Loretta who was drying her eyes, sobs dying to sniffles. "I know you're just upset with all that's been going on lately. Especially tonight with the snakes and now this."
"The Zombie Master is coming after you now, isn't he?" Loretta dabbed her eyes with a tissue. "I can help I think! I was doing some research in the library the other day. There's a protection spell you can use to ward off evil spells."
Drusilla was miffed of course, that she hadn't thought of that. Turning on her heels, she sped off. "To the library then, dears!"
****
The following night and all was prepared for the ritual. Drusilla had insisted on reading up on it all herself of course, making sure that Loretta had been right. They were out in a clearing, away a bit from the old plantation house. Some of their loyal zombies were stood guard over the proceedings. Drusilla had also invited some of their friends from other parts of Haiti to attend, the ones who had welcomed the influx of new blood to island goings on. They had all been instructed to bring lovely presents of course. Some had brought more zombies to the cause. More numbers were always helpful, but it also meant more wayward children to supervise.
Drusilla had a new doll which she had named Miss Death, that she was clutching to her bosom as she caressed it's straw hair. A present of course. It would have been the most beastly thing, to Drusilla as a human. Now of course, she loved it. It's crude carved out coconut face and symbols of death and sacrifice on it's misshapen little body. Drusilla hummed to it as she searched it's dolly soul for special powers. Drusilla was dressed in her flowing ceremonial robes of course, with a warm woollen shawl to protect her against the chill wind. She was sitting on the antique chair that was her throne, as she surveyed the lighting of the blazing ritual torches.
Miss Edith was present and had of course noticed her mistress's preference for the new doll. Hideous looking thing! She was sat beside Django on a tree stump, her back to the proceedings and her traitorous mummy. Django assumed of course that the wind had blown her round the wrong way. He was sitting attentively, cradling his rifle in his lap. This was an important ritual to Drusilla, what with all the goings on of late, and her protector wanted it to go smoothly without interruption.
"I had never guessed you were both so involved in the local community." Loretta was saying beside Django, as she surveyed the preparations. "It's really quite exciting that you've been able to get some of the other local practitioners on your side. Legendre is quite feared around here you know. I feel awfully silly thinking I could tell you about protection rituals you'd probably already heard of."
"Pay it no mind." Django dismissed Loretta's concerns. "We appreciate the extra help. Besides we have a common enemy. I wouldn't mention that name again tonight though. Drusilla's very into her rituals and might consider it a bad omen."
Loretta was about to ask Django more about him and his loved one, how they'd come to meet and such. But seeing Drusilla rise from her chair in the centre of the gathering, informed her that the ritual was about to begin. Loretta shivered. There was something about all this that still creeped her out. But she knew that Django and Drusilla were the best allies she could find at the moment and she was determined to avenge her sister if she could.
Drusilla started swaying and chanting, the other local practitioners soon joining in with their parts. The others weren't really necessary to the ritual of course, but it was hoped that it would add more strength to the spells and invocations. Many of the locals hadn't been sure until recently that Murder Legendre was still around causing trouble. Recent gossip however had made them reconsider and they were fearful. That's why the braver ones had welcomed Drusilla and her human companion so well into the local fold. It was hoped that Drusilla could somehow be the one to deliver them from Legendre's outlived reign.
Drusilla began to dance wildly as she felt the spirits caress her. They were such a frisky lot tonight and oooh, what a naughty boy that one was! Drusilla felt herself going into a trance as she gyrated. She was hoping to please the Voodoo gods on this night. Hoping they would heed the request of their fetching Voodoo Princess.
Suddenly however Drusilla felt a bad feeling cloud over her. She looked around. No one else was around. "What do you really hope to accomplish tonight, my dear?" a Hungarian accent confronted her from the shadows. Drusilla spun to face it and came face to face with a strange man. He was all darkly dressed and very European, a gypsy air to him. Drusilla wrinkled her nose. She didn't like gypsies. They were always spoiling vampire fun.
The elderly but well featured man continued to taunt Drusilla. She tried to ignore him and continue with her dance. Maybe the ritual could still go on. But still the man mocked her. "You don't really think your puny attempts can ward off my work do you, little blossom? I have commanded respect and fear from all around these parts, for almost as long as you were gallivanting about with your dead blonde poet. You really think that you can learn enough to fight my work?"
Drusilla was losing concentration. The way the man was waving his hands around while she danced, made her dizzy and she lurched to a stop. She looked to her enemy and felt an involuntary whimper rising from her. Where was her Django? Why was he letting this horrid man talk to her like this? "Are you Murder Legendre?" Drusilla asked like a kitten. "Do you want to hurt us?"
The Hungarian laughed. "Oh my dear! I don't have to hurt you. There are other ways! Do not think that being a vampire can protect you from zombification! There are certain rituals....enchantments known to me that can arrest your demon lodger in stasis and make you subservient. Do not try to fight me so, or it will go very badly for you and your....companion!"
Drusilla gasped, in something far closer to fear than she'd felt in sometime. He was a menace to her, this one. Those horrid eyes flashing at her, making her feel dizzy. Those spider like hands trying to entrap her thoughts in their weavings. "You be a good little doll." Murder Legendre grinned at his victim. "Like Miss Death!"
****
Django stood up as he saw Drusilla screaming. Something in the chill of his blood told him this wasn't just part of the ritual. "It's the doll!" Loretta was pointing in terror. "Look at it!" Django looked. Sure enough there was a purplish mist rising from it's gaping hole of a mouth. It's horrible stump of a face seemed aflame with malevolence as Drusilla tried to shake it from her. It clung to her!
Django ran to it and hit the hideous Miss Death with the butt of his rifle. He had the thing down on the ground and was beating at it again and again. Splitting it into tiny shards. Loretta was up behind him with one of the flaming torches. Her own experiences with evil sorcery meant she wasn't taking any chances. She lit the remains of the doll, which smouldered with a ghastly stink.
Django was with his girl. Drusilla had stumbled onto the ground and was shaking and clutching herself. She pointed to one of the men gathered. "It was him! It was him! He brought the evil thing!"
The man, a native of Haiti born and bred, tried to flee but Django leapt up again and fired his rifle. Some of the other Haitians also had guns and followed Django's example. The traitor fell in an orgy of bullets.
Everyone was spooked by now of course. A swift wind blew up on the proceedings and blew the torches out and scattered the markings for the ritual. Malevolent laughter filled the night air until the wind ceased. The others began to run off and the zombies were stumbling around wildly out of control.
"Bring me Miss Edith." Drusilla murmured to Django weakly. He complied and his distressed damsel clutched her beloved dolly, stroking at it. "There, there. Shhh, Miss Edith." She became agitated with it. "Django, she's laughing at me!" Django glared warningly at the doll. His own fondness for it would only go so far, when it was being so cruel to it's owner.
"We have to leave Haiti, love!" Django pleaded with his beaten down daisy. "It's becoming too dangerous for us. I don't want anything else to happen to you."
"But I want to summon my giant squid!" Drusilla sobbed. "It's been down there waiting ever so long to come up and see us. And besides, I don't think he'll let us go now. He's enjoying hurting us too much."
I'll kill that bastard, Django thought. He just needed to find out how......