Undead Agent Page 3

  “The question you boys need to ask is how bad will this hurt?” she said.

  Andrews let go of my shoulder. He puffed himself up. “You’re with Madame Rousseau.”

  “Indeed I am.”

  “We have no problems with her.”

  “If you want to keep it that way, you’ll back off and let us leave in peace.”

  “Franklin, Derek, let’s reschedule our little chat with this creep.”

  “Smart man,” Tara said.

  The three men backed away, and exited the bar.

  I rubbed my shoulder. “What’s in the bag?”

  “Just the proper herbs in the precise proportion to achieve my desired result.”

  “What does that mean?”

  She shrugged. “Truth be told, it’s oregano. I was out shopping before I came here.”

  I laughed.

  “Do you need to change your britches?” she asked.

  “Not my first rodeo,” I said.

  She nodded. “You didn’t look the least bit afraid.”

  “How much did you pay them?” I asked.

  “What?”

  “You paid them to come in here and act all tough with me. What did it cost you?”

  She studied me for a moment. “Hundred bucks.”

  I grinned. “So you already broke even.”

  “I’m ahead,” she said. “You bought me a drink.”

  “What’s with the show?”

  “It was a test,” she said, and slammed her drink. “Could you have taken them in a fight?”

  I shrugged.

  “What does that mean?”

  “What difference does it make?”

  She leaned across the table. “Are you really Jonathan Shade?”

  “You think I’d lie about my name?”

  “If it suited you.”

  “Well, you’ve got me there. I only recently went back to using my own name.”

  “I checked you out with DGI,” she said. “I might be willing to introduce you to Mama, but I have conditions.”

  “I’m listening.”

  She looked around, then met and held my gaze. “First, you have to help me.”

  “Go on.”

  “Someone’s trying to kill me.”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  My gaze narrowed as I studied her. There were two possibilities here. Either someone was trying to kill her, or they weren’t. If they were, then why wait until I contacted her to seek help? And if they weren’t, why go to all the pomp and circumstance of hiring a few tough guys to test me? Especially if I didn’t even have to fight them.

  Something was off. I just couldn’t put my finger on it.

  After a prolonged silence, she said, “Say something.”

  Smart ass that I am, I said, “Something.”

  She didn’t find it amusing.

  I can’t say I was amused either. I drank the rest of my beer, and excused myself to go get us more drinks.

  At the bar, I caught Brendan’s attention. “Can we get another round, please?”

  “Coming right up,” he said.

  I felt Tara’s eyes on me, as I stood there with my back to her. “Hey man,” I said. “Has she pulled the fighter card on other people before?”

  “I don’t know what you mean,” he said, pushing the beers over to me. She was a regular, so there was no way he’d betray her confidence, though I suspect he had kinda warned me at the start.

  I handed him some cash. “Keep the change.”

  Tara was checking her lipstick in a pocket mirror when I returned to the table with our drinks.

  She snapped the case closed, and slipped it into her purse.

  “I’m going to address the elephant in the room,” I said. “I called you for an introduction, and you’re trying to turn the tables on me by asking for protection. What gives?”

  “I checked you out,” she said. “I think you can help me. Help us, really.”

  “There’s not much you can check about me,” I said.

  “No kidding. You’ve been like a ghost for ten years. You just popped back onto the radar in the past year. But I know you did some work for Senator Class. There are rumors about you floating about, but I haven’t been able to verify them.”

  “I’m pretty good at dodging the paparazzi.”

  At least that one got a smile. “Word is you work with a Sekutar warrior.”

  I shrugged.

  “How did you get a Sekutar to work with you, though? No offense, but you don’t seem all that impressive.”

  “You’re breaking my heart,” I said.

  “You’re not going to answer my questions, are you?”

  “Not until you come clean with me.”

  She hesitated, and looked around, as if anyone had come close to our table.

  “Enough with the theatrics,” I said.

  “There could be ghosts nearby,” she said.

  I laughed. “There aren’t any ghosts in here.”

  “You don’t believe in ghosts?”

  “Talk, or I’ll find another way to get to your mother.”

  “She’s not my mother.”

  “Grandmother, whatever.” I drank some of my beer. It tasted good, but maybe I should have gone with whiskey.

  “He could have ghosts tracking me, and my battery is low, so I’m not sure my device is working at full capacity.”

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I said.

  She pulled a plastic box out of her purse and set it on the table. It was rectangular, black, and had a small screen. A red light flashed on the side indicating low battery.

  “This is a spirit detector,” she said. “And it says there’s a ghost here.”

  I laughed.

  She glared at me.

  “Sorry,” I said. “You actually spent money on an EMF reader?”

  “It’s not an EMF. It’s a spirit detector. EMFs are more likely to locate an electric socket than a ghost. This focuses on ectoplasmic pulses.”

  I laughed again. “The bigger the lie, the more likely people will believe it, I guess.”

  “It works.”

  “Sure it does,” I said. “Put it away. I can assure you there aren’t any ghosts in here, but there’s an outlet on the wall right behind you.”

  She picked up the device, shook it, then set it back down, and pushed it my way. I glanced at the screen, and there was a digital readout pegged at 100%. She kept throwing dirty looks at me.

  “Now,” I said. “Talk or I walk.”

  “The tables have turned,” she said.

  “Yeah. I can find Madame Rousseau without you. There’s no way a voodoo queen can be that hard to locate.”

  “I don’t like you,” she said.

  “Aww,” I said.

  “Fine. My brother is trying to kill me. He wants to kill Mama, too, but he doesn’t have the power to do that.”

  “Your brother Emmanuel?”

  She nodded. “He’s messed up in the head.”

  “Do tell,” I said. “He’s the one who died, right?”

  “Like you,” she said. “Only he came back different.”

  “I think I read that book.”

  “No one has written about my brother,” she said.

  “Not specifically. I was talking about Pet Sematary by Stephen King. It’s one scary-ass book. I loved it.”

  “I haven’t read that one. A kid dies in it. I can’t read things like that.”

  “Your loss.”

  “I loved The Green Mile, though.”

  “As much as I’d love to play book club, let’s get back to your brother. He died, and your mother, or Mama, or whatever you want to call her, brought him back. But from what I understand, he didn’t have a body left, so how did she manage that?”

  “She captured his ghost and used that to rebuild a body around him, but the process distorted him in so many ways. He seemed okay at first, but then he just wigged out.”

  “More technical terms,” I said.
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br />   “He started killing people. So we tried to rehabilitate him, but he only got worse. So finally, I tried putting him down forever, but my spells didn’t work, and now he wants me dead. He’s drawn this out over the last few years.”

  “And yet, here you are.”

  “Because he wants me to suffer.”

  “Why?”

  “Because my spells hurt him. Mama keeps me protected most of the time, but I can’t always stay inside her circle of power.”

  “So is your brother more of a zombie or more of a golem?”

  “Neither. He’s like a spirit with form, and he reconstitutes himself anytime he’s destroyed, and he always comes back stronger than before. Mama says there’s no way to destroy him.”

  “So she messed up her ritual when she brought him back, or what?”

  Tara finished her second beer. “It was a forbidden spell. When someone dies, they should stay dead.”

  “Present company excluded, I hope.”

  “How did you come back?”

  “That’s not important. Different circumstances.”

  “Did you come back different, too?”

  “Yes,” I said, and left it at that. What I was really thinking is that if any of what she said was true, what I wanted for Esther was not possible, and that left me disappointed.

  “Will you help me?”

  “I’m not sure what I can do that Madame Rousseau can’t,” I said.

  “I’m sure there are lots of things you can do that she can’t.” She winked at me, and reached across the table to place her hand on mine.

  Now I was even more confused. She’d played the damsel in distress, and now based on the look in her eyes, and the way she caressed my hand, she was back to playing the sex kitten femme fatale.

  “Put the brakes on,” I said, and pulled my hand away.

  “Don’t you find me attractive?”

  “I do, but that’s not the point.”

  “The point is you want to find Paul Tanner.”

  “I never said that.”

  She smiled. “You might make for a mighty fine adversary. Tanner sure didn’t. I killed him, you know. Dumped his body in the bayou. I look forward to meeting you again, Jonathan Shade. Assuming you’re able to survive the night.”

  Then a ghost slid out of Tara’s body. It was a black man in a suit and tie. He was bald, but had a small goatee. He gave me a wave.

  “Don’t get too close to my sister. She has a secret of her own,” he said, and slipped through the wall.

  Tara fell forward, her head landing on her outstretched arm.

  The spirit detector beeped, and the readout registered 0%.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Tara raised her head, gave it a shake, and blinked a few times. Her eyes focused on me, and the confusion on her face lasted only a second or two before she regained her composure.

  “Hi there,” I said and waved at her. “Do you know where you are, or are you missing time?”

  She pursed her lips and tasted her tongue. “Did I just drink a beer?”

  I held up two fingers.

  She drew a deep breath, let it out slowly, and looked around the bar. Tears welled in her eyes, but she blinked them away, and dabbed at them with a cocktail napkin. She patted herself, examining her clothing as if she had no idea why she chose that outfit.

  “Not again,” she said, and shut her eyes. She kept them closed a moment, then opened them and stared at me. “This is going to sound like a crazy question, but who are you?”

  “Jonathan Shade.”

  “Okay, that means nothing to me.” She grabbed her purse, and rummaged through it, pulling out her cellphone. She thumbed it to life and stared at the time. “Six days,” she said.

  Okay, I was wrong. She checked the date.

  She looked at me again. “Whatever we’ve been doing together,” she said slowly, “I don’t remember any of it.”

  “Seems you had a little ride along,” I said.

  “I’m in a bar with a strange man.”

  “Am I that strange?” I asked.

  She looked at me again, as if surprised I was still there. She rubbed her eyes.

  “All right,” I said. “What’s the last thing you remember?”

  “Doing laundry,” she said.

  “That’s a start.”

  “What did you do to me?”

  “I didn’t do anything to you,” I said. “If I were to hazard a guess, I’d say I’ve been talking to your brother.”

  “Emmanuel? But he’s dead.”

  “Madame Rousseau, your mother or grandmother or whatever raised him from the dead.”

  “He didn’t come back the same, so she destroyed him.”

  “All right, well his ghost is still around, and seems to have easy access to possessing you.”

  “That’s impossible. Where are we?”

  “Place called Kinky McStaggers.”

  “In the French Quarter?”

  I nodded. “I called you to ask for an introduction to Madame Rousseau, and you agreed to meet me here. Only it was evidently your brother possessing your body.”

  “But he can’t do that.”

  “Clearly, you’re mistaken.”

  “Mama had me get a protection spell tattooed right here.” She peeled her top down to expose her left shoulder. The tattoo was of a sun symbol with curled triangles dancing around it.

  “Hate to break it to you, but that didn’t work.”

  “Will you excuse me for a minute, Mr. Shade?” She looked around.

  I pointed toward the hall leading to the restrooms. “Over there,” I said.

  “Thank you.”

  She grabbed her purse, pushed herself to her feet, and wavered a bit.

  “Do you need help?” I asked, holding my hands out in case I needed to catch her.

  She put a hand on the table, balanced herself, then touched her forehead. “Dizzy,” she said.

  “All right,” I said. “Let me help you.”

  I got up, put an arm around her to steady her, and helped her walk to the women’s room.

  “I’ll take it from here,” she said, and pushed the door open.

  “I’ll wait right here,” I said.

  She staggered into the restroom, and the door closed behind her.

  I leaned against the wall, and stared at the various signs, pictures, and posters hanging there. Beer companies, bands advertising upcoming shows, taxi numbers.

  An old payphone hung on one wall with a sign that read, Out of Order.

  The men’s room door opened, and a large man stepped out. He nodded to me, and went back to his table with his friends.

  Ten minutes passed.

  Fifteen.

  I walked over to the bar, and ordered another beer. As Brendan poured my drink, I said, “So you know Madame Rousseau?”

  He smiled. “Mama’s been helping people since I was a wee lad. If families need food, she’s there. When my cousin Brianna got sick, Mama healed her right up. She’ll never pay for a drink in my place. That I can tell you.”

  I thanked him and went back to wait for Tara. A few minutes later, I dragged a chair over from one of the tables, and sat down. I checked my email on my phone. Read an article about a crazy political situation in Washington.

  Finally, Tara exited the restroom. She looked much steadier now.

  “How do you feel?” I asked, getting up.

  “Violated,” she said.

  I put the chair back where I got it, and asked, “Do you need some help?”

  She shook her head. “I can walk.”

  “Do you want me to take you home?”

  “You have a car?”

  “I have an Uber app.”

  “What I really need right now is some food. My legs are quivering, and my stomach is growling.”

  “The menu here is pretty limited, but there are plenty of restaurants nearby.”

  “This will sound weird, but I have a craving for Burger King.”

 
CHAPTER SEVEN

  Tara finished a couple of cheeseburgers, fries, and an iced tea. I had a couple of burgers and tea myself.

  We sat in a Burger King booth facing each other. She leaned back and sighed. “I feel so much better,” she said. “Thank you.”

  “My pleasure,” I said. I touched the edge of my lips. “You have some mustard right here.”

  She wiped her mouth with a napkin. “Did I get it?”

  I nodded.

  “Six days gone,” she said, and shook her head. “I talked to Mama while I was in the bar restroom. She told me to be careful. She looked you up and said I’d be safe with you.”

  “Do you have this missing time problem often?” I asked.

  She hesitated, then nodded.

  “Well,” I said, “at least you know it’s not UFO aliens taking you into space for weird experiments.”

  “That might be preferable to Emmanuel. I don’t even want to think about what he might have done to me. What did he say to you?”

  I filled her in on what happened.

  “What game is he playing?”

  “Have you heard of Paul Tanner?” I asked.

  She shook her head. “Maybe we should go talk to Mama.”

  “Works for me,” I said.

  “You wanted to meet her anyway.”

  I shrugged. “Pretty sure I already struck out on both counts, actually. I was supposed to find Paul Tanner, but if he was dumped in the bayou, odds are he’s been eaten by an alligator by now. And the other thing, well, that’s not going to work either.”

  “You sound disappointed.”

  “I am.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Not your fault,” I said. “Let’s get you to Mama Rousseau.”

  She grinned. “She’s Mama to me. She’s Madame Rousseau to you.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind. I’d hate to have her make a voodoo doll of me and poke needles into it.”

  “She doesn’t do that,” Tara said with a laugh. “Much.”

  “I’ve never met a voodoo queen before,” I said. “Can you help me out with the etiquette?”

  Still smiling, she said, “D.B.A.A.”

  I nodded. “Don’t be an asshole.”

  “Exactly.”

  We caught an Uber to the Irish Channel neighborhood, and the driver let us out at the corner of Jackson and Rousseau Street. We thanked the driver, and he drove off into the night.