That gorgeous man beckoned to her. “Amaia!” His smile was the same. “Would you like to come inside?”
She wanted to say, Yes, yes, I would. I do want to go inside. What other choice did she have? What did Ipar want? What did a stupid dog know about what a girl needed?
More thunder.
She’s coming, she heard in her mind.
The charming young man shifted slightly to one side. One of the silhouetted figures stepped out into the golden light.
Amaia gasped in astonishment and convulsed in terror. “Nooo!” she cried from the depths of her being. “No, no!” she screamed at the person standing in the doorway and welcoming her with a smile.
“No!” she cried, stumbling backward one step, then another, then another.
More of them emerged from the doorway as she screamed and backed away. They watched her, amused.
A blast of thunder shook the ground. Dozens of bolts of lightning parted the heavens. The insistent whistling seemed to come from everywhere at once.
She knew.
The Lady is here.
The people by the door, suddenly tired of waiting, surged into the pouring rain and came for her.
Amaia couldn’t scream. Terrified and voiceless, she backed away, stumbled over one of the stone slabs of the walkway, staggered, and almost fell. She shut her eyes. At that precise instant, the path was lit by a blinding flash that dazzled everyone, and a tremendous crash of thunder deafened her. She felt only the electric sizzle and powerful impact of the shock wave when the lightning bolt struck.
66
JAM IN THE CUPBOARD
The swamp
Wednesday, August 31, 2005
The traiteur gave Dupree a warning look before placing his hands on the unconscious man. “I never lie. I can’t. I made a pact with God. If anyone’s going to lie to him, it’ll have to be you.”
“No problem,” Dupree agreed, suddenly reinvigorated.
The traiteur closed his eyes and moved his hands, first across the man’s head and then over his abdomen. He peeled away the bulky dressing Charbou had improvised and placed his right hand directly in the wound, moving it with great care and closing his eyes as he murmured an incantation. At last he opened them again, turned to Dupree, and nodded.
The FBI leader leaned over the unconscious man, grasped his chin, and shook it slightly. “Wake up!”
The thug opened his eyes and blinked up in confusion, pressing his hands to his belly and finding the traiteur’s hands in his wound.
“Don’t move,” Dupree told him, covering the man’s hands. “This is the traiteur of the big swamp, and he’s helping you. What’s your name?”
“Dominic,” came the faint answer.
Johnson peeled off his own jacket, folded it in thirds, and slipped it under the man’s head.
The man’s mouth quivered in confusion. “It doesn’t hurt anymore,” he whispered in astonishment.
“But it will, if he stops his spell.”
“No,” the man pleaded. “Please . . .”
“Okay, Dominic. Is there anyone else here on the property? Are you expecting anyone?”
“No.”
“Fine. Where are the girls?”
“Dead. But we didn’t kill them,” he panted. “The water went up and drowned them . . . during the storm.”
“Other girls are missing,” Dupree insisted. “The ones they took from NOLA the night after Katrina.”
The man squeezed his eyes shut. When he opened them, tears spilled out. “I oughtn’t to have got involved. Len convinced me. There was a lot of money. They got here and found the girls dead, Len got really mad, then they told him he had to clean up the mess. That’s why he came looking for me. I knew what Len was up to, I was always asking him to get me into it. There’s a lot of money, but they’re really dangerous, those fellas . . .”
“You mean Samedi?”
He nodded.
“Did you ever see him?” Dupree asked expectantly. “Know who he is?”
The man shook his head and responded with a grimace that was supposed to be a smile. “You got no idea, do you? It’s Samedi, man!” He said it reverently, as if speaking of a god.
“The girls from NOLA. Where they at?”
The man closed his eyes, shook his head, and sighed. “I can’t say.”
“You got enough problems already. Do yourself a favor. You help us, and we’ll help you.”
“You folks don’t understand. They’ll kill me.”
“You’re the one who doesn’t understand. I’m gonna be straight with you. You got a really ugly wound down there,” he said, pointing to the man’s belly and raising his head just enough for him to see the bunched-up rags holding his guts inside his body. “We’re miles from the nearest hospital; you gonna be dead in a couple hours if we don’t get help. And I’m not moving you out of here long as I think the girls are hidden somewhere in this big old plantation. We’re gonna search every container in every storehouse in the place, even if it takes days, and we’re not gonna leave here till we find ’em.”
Dominic’s lips tightened as he looked down at his belly.
Dupree gave a slight nod to the traiteur, who responded with a twitch of his hand. Dominic screamed in anguish, and beads of sweat popped out on his face.
“You help us, we get you out of here.”
“What they do to folks who cross ’em is a thousand times worse than dying.”
Dupree instinctively raised a hand to his chest. His face lost its color as his old scars burned and his heart skipped a beat. He sought to calm himself. “We’ll protect you.”
“Protect me? What kind of protection? Len says Samedi got people even in the police.”
Bull and Dupree glanced at one another. That thought had never occurred to them.
Dupree took out his badge and held it before Dominic’s eyes. “We’re not police, we’re FBI. We can put you in a witness protection program. New life, new identity, far away from here.”
Dominic squinted at the badge and thought about it. Dupree turned and nodded to the traiteur, who scarcely moved. Dominic howled in pain.
Dupree leaned forward. “They must’ve got here yesterday or, at the earliest, the day before. The girls upstairs have been dead since the hurricane. Where do they have the girls from NOLA?”
The traiteur moved his hands again. It was obvious from Dominic’s expression that the pain had lessened.
“You gonna take me away and give me a new name and place . . .”
“I give you my word.”
Dominic closed his eyes. “They over in the mansion.”
“Our guys went there,” Johnson told Dupree, “and it’s deserted.”
“In the pantry, off the kitchen,” Dominic whispered, “they built a false back.”
Johnson and Charbou dashed for the door with the two shrimpers close behind.
“Take the Zodiac!” Bull shouted after them.
Dupree studied Dominic. A white guy, more or less Dupree’s age, Dominic was getting paler by the minute. His eyes were beginning to take on that faraway look of those already halfway through death’s door.
“Samedi came here? Did he see what happened with the other girls?”