The land of gods and monsters continued...

He placed me on the bed
Pushed his hand through my hair and said:
Wine and blood are both red
And neither do a thing for me at all

I just lay there and I wept
He climbed off and got dressed
Next time if ever again
I'll bring you a rose
R.Parasol

Your memory is a monster; you forget, it doesn't.
J.Irving

She had understood before she had ever dreamed of a city such as this, where every texture, every color, leapt out at you, where every fragrance was a drug, and the air itself was something alive and breathing.
A.Rice

I got the ways and means to New Orleans
I'm goin' down by the river where it's warm and green
I'm gonna have a drink and walk around..
I got a lot to think about..
Concrete Blonde

Breaking The Spell

Part one:

Red neon gleamed in puddles outside Bonhamme; the newest chapter in Vitaly's slowly rebuilt presence in West End. The small limestone building was accessible only by a rolling shutter garage door or a sliding grate to the back of the premises and was heavily guarded. The sign flickered to life on the empty street and had only started glowing steadily when the hearse pulled up outside it; cruising like a shark through the city night on an engine that rumbled and growled and always made Elizabeth grin.

Once she got out and closed the heavy door with a clunk she idled a moment to stop and inhale the wet air. The smell of steam and tar carried to her nose and there was something refreshing and enlivening about it as she set her eyes on the sign above. The name read and re-read. Sounded out. "Bonhamme. Dont's sound Russian."

"That is point."

A voice from behind her.

She turned, lowering the black hood of her jacket and found Vitaly smiling at her, the most she had ever seen him smile. He wore a pressed, dark grey suit and his shoes were shiny as always. His hair swept back and secured with gel and his nails manicured and short. There was nothing to be said for several moments as he widened his arms and she broke the short distance between them to hug him tight. She buried her face into his chest. He still smelled like Earl Grey and Bay Rum.

"You look good, Lizzie. All is okay?"

Stepping back, but their arms still linked, she nodded up at him. "You've recovered wells. I'm so fucking glad for that, yo. Gods, you worried me. I'm so, so deeply, deeply sorry for Menace, for Vince, for your men..." she looked down and expelled a sigh, staring at their shoes; her beaten converse pointed at his wingtips.

"Ssshh, shhh, devushka. It over. Nothing to be done. Would have done same all again."

"Vit, man, I..."

"Lizzie, shut up."

She smirked up at him and he laughed and gestured to the garage front. "Come inside, tell me what you need."

Her hand clenched his forearm, stopping him. "I don'ts got much time; I'd love to stay but... I got shiz on. But I do need somethings from you. I'll figure out how to pay you back. It's real important."

"Say the word." He reached up to press a hand back through her dread-free hair, marvelling at the softness, at how nice it looked, not tangled in ropes and knots.

"I got to skip town for a day. But I got word some ... some trouble could be present. I needs you to stick a guy on my therapist, Doc Finch."

"Where will you go?" He stepped away to consider the girl seriously, steadily, while his hands sank into the pockets of his trousers, where he jostled pieces of change and studied her.

"I gots bidness in New Orleans. I'm going to go alone, go see what I can ... can do about stuff. Not askings no one for help with that... because it's... it's my problem. I think I gots to go and seek out some of Jimmie's campadre's, from back in the day. Middle management, so's to speak. But, I gots to be the one to do it."

"Alone?" Alarm filled his face and immediately aged him in the red light of the sign.

"Alone. I got my fire, and it's got to be good for something. All this oogy boogy shiz, it's got to be good for something. Any crazy ass fucking shiz goes down, I'll handle it. Might as well milk the contract while I gots it."

He laughed a little, though not meaning to and shook his head and continue to jostle the change in his pocket which sounded like a drunk at the keys.

"So how long, and you have his address?"

"Day, maybe two, tops. Here." She unzipped her jacket to reach inside and present him with a photo and an address on a small blue card. "He's a good guy. Been lookings out for me. He got told that... that someone from my past mights be in town and if anything goes nuts, I want him to be covered."

"And why you think he is... ah... what is the word, under threat?"

"Cuz the Feds went straight to him. Tried to digs up shiz. He knows everything and I can'ts be too careful. Trying to do the right things here."

Vitaly nodded sombrely and then looked to the sign again. When he looked back to Roach, her face was turned towards it too, coloured in scarlet reflections.

"Be careful, Lizzie. I will do as need. But please, call me when you safe. I will call if anything happen."

Roach tensed and shoved her hands into the pockets of her jacket but had no change to play with, only lint. She nodded stiffly at him and smiled a touch. "You know it, Vit. No worries. I'll be in touch witchu, either way. But... I got another requests, too."

"Oh?"

She stepped in a little closer. "On that card is another address. I don'ts know too much about the guy, but I think he's alright. He's helping me with the contract shiz too but he's kind of sort of involved in some other shiz to do with my new employer. Can you do some surveillance theres, too. Just... just to check in." Roach had no concept of how truly formidable Les was. In any case, contingency was everything to her these days and so it was impressed the same on Vitaly, that Les's shop be acknowledged in her absence.

"You leave when?"

"Tomorrow."

"Okay. It is done, devushka. You can count."

"Sway?" A grin.

"Sway." He extended a curled fist and she laughed out loud, bumping his knuckles with hers. "See ya in a couple days."

Vitaly nodded and watched her as she returned to the car. He squinted his eyes at the beast and then shook his head. "Strange girl."

"Oi, I heards that."

"You need nice, new car. Not one for stiffs."

Hanging over the door as she started the ignition, she cast a look back at him and revved the engine, displaying the roar of the V8. "What you think now, yo?"

He cracked a smile and gave her a thumbs up then walked over to the fin of the car and gave it a pat. "Ne idut nezhnyye."

In the rearview, she smiled at him and mouthed it back then went tearing off into the dark. He watched her go with a feeling of foreboding in his chest, but where she was concerned, it was habit.

"Ne idut nezhnyye, Lizzie."

The Black Ryder's 'Sweet Come Down' blasted from the windows and vibrated in the street as she traveled beneath an abscission of light.

Even in the dark hour, even if her eyes had been closed and she hadn?t known where that portal lead to, the heavy air was distinct. The sweet scent of the magnolia trees mingling with the mystery smell of the river, pervaded by the intrusion of man made sleaze and the metallic fumes expelled by tourist buses was uniquely New Orleans. Sultry, secretive and far from fresh. It was ardent and repressive, soft and violent at the same time.

It was home.

The birthplace of blues didn?t sleep when the sun went down. Hells, it never slept. It was especially true on that historical street. While the tourists wasted their time and money on the trap that was Bourbon street, real folks spent their time on Frenchmen. Exquisite, old-fashioned and a great place to live vicariously. Where, at this late hour, inebriated folks leaned heavily against the walls or on one another to drag themselves through the gutter to the next hopping music club.

A lazy tune drifted melodically through the thick moist air and the atmosphere pulsated with its soulful rhythm. The other beats and ensembles mingled and bounced out from the various night clubs, packed with locals and tourists alike to enjoy all that encompassed what New Orleans truly was. But through it all, that crooning, like a siren song to all those heartsick fools that knew what it was to have the blues, swam through the other sounds of the night to nestle in the former gutter rat?s ears.

Down on past the green and orange sign with the Spotted Cat?s namesake silhouette. Down on past that alley way that served as the portal to Rhy?din. Down further still into the night along that historical street steeped deep in culture.

Something called and pulled at the heart of any music lover, bidding them to come along and follow the music like a a rodent ensnared by a pied piper. Beckoning that came in the form of blues bars and chord progressions made more twangy with the aid of a metal slide along the strings. The music was made more intoxicating with the addition of a low registered voice occasionally belting out a line or two to add emphasis to the words.

Unlike the others drawn unwittingly to the music, Roach could feel something else woven into that soulful tune. Literal magic; pulling, clawing and urging with every bar and verse.

The culprit was sitting at the crossroads of Decatur and Frenchmen. His skin was a smooth ebony and when he sang, his teeth gleamed all the brighter white in contrast. He was playing a well known, and almost cliche song to hear in that particular city, with a haunting blues twist. A well-loved deep cherry red electric guitar was nestled between his knee and his arm, the bends in the rounded body of the instrument made perfectly to accommodate the limbs. ?Dere is. A house. In-dat-sweet. New Orleans. Dey calls. Oh, dey calls d?riihiiisin? su~unn.? Words added and crooned not always in time to the natural tune of the song but in a way made wholly his own.

His fingers flew along the strings between the frets to wail out those notes that made the distinct ?blues? sound. Bending them upward at times to change the pitch and cause the instrument sound like it was feeling the blues itself. The metal slide encircling his pinky finger made the strings take on that scratchy technique that made it all the more haunting.

?An? it?s been. D?ruin. Been d?ruin of many. Many a poor boy. An? gahd. Oh, I know. Know dat ah?m one~.? A hat made of tightly woven synthetic straw and the same cherry red as the weeping guitar sat slightly askew on his head short shaved head. The color pulled at the eye, almost served as a beacon under the streetlamp poised as if it were a spotlight. As if the street itself was a far better stage than any of those music clubs.

His dark colored toes lifted and tapped a dark colored flip flop sandal with the beat, keeping time for his song as he continued. Not far from his foot was a regular sized mason jar with ?Good JuJu Jar? written in black sharpie on a stark white label secured by tape. A clever alternative to the traditional ?Tip Jar? that seemed to have worked at least a couple of times judging by the loose change and couple bills stuffed inside.

The nearly suffocating charge of magic emanated all around the area; flowing and swirling in a lazy but powerful dance. It ebbed and surged, pulsating with his deep silky voice as he continued the gloomy tune. It felt eerily familiar and it was difficult to tell if it was comforting or terrifying but there was no denying it held a certain captivating quality to her attention.

?So mamaaaaaas~! Tell yo childrens. Not t?dooo. What I. What I shouldn?a done. An? spend dere lives in sin an? misery. Down at dat riihii~sinn? sun.? The civilians oblivious to the magic that had them ensnared by his song seemed as if caught in a trance, swaying to the soulful melody until he slowly plucked the last few notes to end the House of the Rising Sun.

When the show was over, the magic slowly drifted off down the four directions as if itself had been caught in a trance by the musician?s song. The listeners moved on their way, their hearts heavy with the mournful sound of the tune even though they had all heard the song before; his version would haunt them long after the melody ended. Some stuffed gratuities into the jar before dispersing, leaving the chocolate skinned guitarist to his own devices again.

It was then he noticed her and with a slow toothy smile like a cheshire cat, lifted and tipped that crimson red lid in her direction. Even the jumping skeletons in their reverie knew to steer clear of this one and when he lifted his eyes to her, she saw the scalera a pitch black, soul sucking darkness and his pupils like the firey red coals of Hell.

"Well Well Well....ifin it ain't Jimmie's gurl. Miss Lil' Lizzie Lee." The blues man purred. She only knew him as Mettise and knew that even Jimmie showed the man respect.

He gave a deep throaty chuckle being told her thought on his demise, ?Dat news t?me. Dunno why you?d think someone could off me. C?mon, ain?t no one dat stupid.? A wink of an unnatural eye, ?I don?t need to do anything. But I do it. Simple pleasures, sha.?

He sat all calm and relaxed like from his perch, silent as the grave then as he watched her dig out the various tributes and blinking not nearly enough. The constant gaze certainly lending a more unsettling sensation. He set the scuffed up guitar aside and stooped over to collect the jar when she stood and backed off a touch, giving it a shake to inspect what she?d put forth. When he lifted his gaze to her again, the black had receded, giving way to a natural white and the red dulling down to a cockroach brown and that slow toothy smile came again, ?It?ll do for now. Doh it sure depend on whacha lookin? for, gurl? The sacrifices she had made were satisfactory for a meeting with the Loa.

Metisse dug about in the jar, pocketing the cash and change in one of the side pockets of his olive colored baggy cargo pants as he listened. Another deep chuckle, ?Wha? Y?mean I don?t know ev?rything?? He made a short steupsing sound against the back of his teeth before smirking again as he fingered the other items out of the jar to inspect them more closely. He pocketed the blue lighter in his polo shirt pocket giving it a deliberate pat. That had meant the most to her so it was the best bargaining chip. He opened up the chocolate protein bar and with it hanging out of his mouth, wrapper discarded into another of those pockets, he gestured with a silent beckoning finger back over to him.

?D?King? Ya. I seen him about with his lady dat ain?t Persephone. But dat ain?t really a surprise all things considered, huh?? He continued to beckon and speak around the bar in his teeth.

?But y?did. An? now here you is.? When she didn?t come to him at his beckoning, he closed the distance himself. Long legs carrying him the short distance between them to loom his dark form over her small pale one.

?Hair, up.? Came the short instruction as he lifted the sacrificed collar up in front of her throat. He ignored her comments for a few moments and her desires to get down to business. He wanted some things cleared up first, ?I hears dat y?negged on some dough y?owed Jimmie, Li?l Lizzie. We ain?t gunna have something like dat happen here now, is we? I don?t have t?be worried about our reluctant li?l Queenie goin? back on any sort of agreements we may or may not come to, do I?? He waited for a response for a moment, finishing the protein bar as he did so he didn?t have to talk around it anymore.

The Loa knew far more than Roach could believe. The spirits spoke with him all the time and unlike her, he permitted them and commanded them with ease. He listened to their whispering and bemoaning and he,like them, had very much been present at the event that sealed the girl?s fate she still struggled against accepting.

?Like most things involving magic, sha, is easiah t?get in den out.? Clasping the choker back around her throat to fit perhaps a little too snug for a moment as he lowered his eyes down to hers. A crooked smirk came to his lips rather than the mirthful amused one, ?...careful, gurl, you betta think hard on d?things y?say before y?say?em. Sayin? y?ll do anything I want could mean a helluva lot worse den bein? an unhappy Persephone.? His eyes clouded over to that soulless black and red, reminding her of what she already knew he was. He was dangerous. Smiling like one of the gators in the murky water that could snap a person up and spin them all which ways so they didn?t know their up from down and drown long before being eaten.

Metisse held her eyes with his unnatural ones; that gator-toothed too-bright smile still on his lips as he listened to her explanation and words as they grew heated and terse. He liked Lizzie, but a lot had happened in a year and he needed to be sure not everything had changed in a way he didn?t know of. He already held a modicum of respect for the girl and how she knew to keep to the proper procedures and ceremonies when they were due.

When she was done and turned to go, he let out a howl of a laugh, relaxed as ever, ?As y?say, y?majesty.? He swiped the red hat from his head and gave a flourish of a bow, his smile returning to the mirthful and amused one rather than the dangerous threat of earlier. When he straightened back up again, he tilted his head slightly to one side as he enjoyed watching her go at an angle, ?Y?say y?don?t wanna be Queen but I think y?d do a daym fine job, bebe Lee!? The Loa called after her, ?Pere Antoine?s. One hour. I be dere with bells on!?

He chuckled as Roach wound her way through the streets of revelers; the living not realizing who they were near and noticed the dead and damned not daring to go near. He considered making Persephone a sacrifice of his own to appease that anger when next he saw her...he?d think about it. For now, he had time to do one more song and captivate the attention of the meandering music lovers and enjoy a dark wrapped cigarillo, lit with royalty?s baby blue.

One thing that could be said for Metisse that would never change was his punctuality. Fifty nine minutes since their agreement, he was arriving at restaurant and spotting the girl that no longer looked so out of place. At one hour to the very second, he was taking a seat across from her with that wide cheshire cat smile of too-white teeth. ?Y?know. I meant t?say earlia...y?clean up real nice, Lizzie. Certainly a change from what we all used to for yous.? He paused, scratching his short well manicured nails into the close trimmed hair at his chin as he regarded her, ?Had t?be sure about what all had changed...but y?right, shoulda showed ya d?respect due. Apologies. Sway??

He would say it once and be done with it. As Persephone and the Queen of NOLA, she demanded that respect but it was because she was an an old compatriot that she deserved it. She certainly did look different without her tangle of dreads and at first, if he hadn?t felt the magic in her on the street, he wouldn?t have recognized the petite Persephone. She didn?t look like the wild and dangerous little punk gutter rat he was used to seeing.

He leaned back in his seat, ordering a dark spiced rum when he was asked by the server before returning his attention to the woman across from him.

She hadn?t changed her clothes but he certainly had. She had wanted to meet him for business, so gone was the ?downtime? hat, the casual clothes and out came the bloody red jacket, black button-down shirt and tie to match the color of his jacket. Pressed black slacks and two toned shoes: red and black as well of course. He gave a gentle tug to one cuff of his shirt than the other before folding his hands in front of him on the table between them.

?Now?.y?realize what yous askin?, right, Lee?? One of his dark eyebrows arched a bit, ?It ain?t no easy thang yous afta. Gettin? a soul back, it got some high prices. Gettin? your soul back, dat gunna be real steep.? He dipped his chin a bit, ?And I ain?t just talkin? for yous. We talkin? all a NOLA; Me, d'udda Invisibles, Skelly kids, d'King and d'rest a d'like. Y?don?t want d'crown but it has you deep now and it ain?t gunna wanna let you go so easy like.?

His cheshire cat smile had faded to a more serious look but it flashed a brightly again for the girl who brought his drink, taking a sip. It wasn?t what he preferred but it was close enough and the best he would get at a restaurant anyway. When the drink was lowered again, it was back to business as he fished a familiar baby blue lighter from his jacket?s breast pocket. He placed the flat bottom end of it on the table and with his finger on the metal bit of the mini bic, rocked it slowly from side to side like a slow metronome. Tick, tick, tick to some unheard song. His dark eyes were still on hers and not the tiny item. ?Dis is important t?yous. Why?? Her answer was important. She would need something important, something tangible, to anchor to before they even thought about going down that dangerous rabbit hole.

He continued the tick tock of the lighter, metronome style, for a few moments before leaving it to stand it up straight on its end. It stood straight like some chunk of the sky against the cloud white tablecloth. The wooden chair creaked a bit as the athletic built black man leaned back in his seat to regard the girl. ?...Silly *** sentiment or no. Is important to yous. So...dat?s important and gives d?thing power. Power t?keep your mind focused and your body grounded during d?ritual.?

Metisse was going to elaborate but it was then that the lovely Dominique sashayed on by and he was rendered rather distracted momentarily. That wide cheshire cat grin returned to his face and a wink was shot over to the waitress, ?You a peach, sha. Knows d?way right t?my li?l black heart, y?do.? When she retreated again to put in the order for Roach?s sickeningly sweet fries and his special brand of spicy rum, Metisse lulled his head back over the back of his seat. Black and red eyes watched her go with a lovely view of that round backside, albeit upside down, it was still a nice view.

The front two legs of his chair tipped back to afford him a longer, more easy linger of a look before she was out of sight. Leaning forward again, the chair legs thumped back down to the floor and that business look was on his face again, though, there may have been a bit more humor in it now. He may be a strange creature of voodoo but he was still a man with desires.

?Your downfall certainly weren?t all your fault, Lizzie. ****, Jimmie made sure to guide dat downfall right along. In truth,? He took a breath through his mouth and let it out in a sigh through his nose as he recalled, ?We all had a hand in each otha?s corruption in some form or anotha...was just how thangs went down around d?House. Was just d?energy. D?flow. We all got used to it. We all lost our souls in some way, sha.? He had been around a long while before little Lizzie Lee showed up on the doorstep but that didn?t mean there weren?t regrets lingering about in the Bluesman?s mind sometimes. Things he did and didn?t do weighed the same and always would. She had been coerced into it, no other real opportunity or option before her given the tumultuous life she had lived up until then. Most others had volunteered, knowing full well what they were getting into ahead of time.

He gave a small grin at her struggling to put words to her thoughts, he didn?t know why but it amused him a little bit. Reminded him of the flustered way she?d get when receiving an honest compliment and not the typical lewd one she must have been used to getting. It reminded him that Lizzie was still a girl.

One of his dark eyebrows arched as he folded his arms over his chest when she used his title instead of his name. It was a stark reminder that it was always business and not two folks just hanging out. They weren?t friends. Hell, he wasn?t even sure if she liked him or if she was just like everyone else. What can Metisse do for me? Of course, he was used to that. Why expect any different from an old familiar face. Not many people wanted to hang around the crossroads conduit who granted power to all manner of terrible people for their wicked deeds. As if consorting with their types damned him to the same circles as well. It was just part of the job, no sense in bellyaching about it. And no sense in wishing for more. It was why in his ?downtime? he chose to sit on the streets and play them blues to strangers in the street. He felt closer to those folks that passed by after listening to one of his tunes than anyone else. The Lone Wolf of the Crossroads left to howl on his own.

In a way, he was almost jealous of Lizzie even having the opportunity to retain her soul and have it back for her own as it had been. Metisse still had his in a manner of speaking, but it wasn?t the same as when he was born. It had been twisted, mangled and reassembled into the new shape for a permanent vessel of the Kalfou.

He had to force a laugh at her almost paranoid comment. ?Now, I could get upset at ya for even hinting dat I?d double-cross anyone. A deal?s, a deal?s, a deal?, sha. Y?know if is a deal I made, I ain?t gunna break it. Dat?s just bad business right dere.? Metisse grinned that wide gator smile, ?No. I didn?t know y?was comin?. I was messin? with ya earlier. But I sure as hell knew when y?was here. Like I said before, I seen Hades but not spoken with him yet. No cause to, really. Only folks dat tend to come my way are d?ones dat need something and he seem to have all his thangs well in hand.?

A small curl of his upper lip into an almost snarl and the smallest of twitches came to one of his eyes at the mention of his bad rep and the name. His square jaw tensed a bit and he folded his arms over his chest again, leaning back in his seat. Metisse had a hot temper and that was where most of his bad reputation came from; hot temper and violent outbursts when pushed along with working with all manner of unsavoury types.

He stayed silent with his negative thoughts as she continued to speak and the procession went by outside the windows. He was used to the dead and didn?t see them as nuisances anymore. He was used to people, dead and alive, coming to him, wanting something for some trivial tributes. He?d supped on more animal sacrifices, rum tainted with gunpower and without, all manner of red articles be they clothing, jewelry or food. He gave an annoyed sigh and looked down at his proper drink the lovely Dominique had left for him. Metisse paused to push his thoughts away and took a deep drink from the short glass; the grainy texture of the gunpowder feeling like a hot explosion in his gullet after the swallow.

?Not even got d?job a year and y?want out...? Metisse murmured more to himself than to her as he swirled his drink around He hadn?t set it down just yet, he needed more drink to replace the heat of his rising agitation with the heat of the drink. He made a steupsing sound again; his upper lip lifting to pull away from his teeth a bit with the noise before another drink was taken.

This time when he was done, the drink half gone, he set it down and leveled his gaze on hers, a neutral look. No cheshire cat grin or gator, just a flat line, ?...Funny you use dat analogy. Cause dats exactly what yous gunna have t?do. Go out on dat limb t?get dat fruit.?

He leaned to the side to fish out his wallet from his back pocket and thumbed some bills out. The Queen may eat for free but he was used to paying his own way. ?Four apples actually. As red as can be.? He tucked his wallet back away and took up his drink again to gulp it down, ?Get dem. Dey?ll act as a hourglass for yous when we gets down to the nitty gritty of d?thang.?

He looked like he was getting ready to get up and go but then a thought struck him and he sighed, leaning forward a bit in an almost conspiritus manner, ?...Y?know...yous gunna be d?only one dat wants dis, Lizzie....? He looked to the table and picked up a knife and a fork, setting them on either side of the baby blue lighter still standing there like a silent beacon on the stark white of the cloth. ?You know dat dere?s a veil between d?dead and livin? dat we kinda straddle. Let?s call d?lighta all of us magic inclined folk, kay?? He lightly tapped the two utensils against the table, barely an inch away on either of the lighter, ?For us, normally, dat veil is skinny. Thicker den just about everywhere else in the United States but still thin. It harda to do magic, talk with spirits, do all d?voodoo dat we do so well?.but?.With Persephone and Hades finally joined and both in d?Crez?? He moved the utensils farther apart, three or four inches rather than the one, ?...it make dat divide a whole lot less. It make usin? and movin? magic about all d?more easy. And some folks?.well...some folks are gunna wanna keep it dat way. Dey may not look too kindly should dey find out you wanna bring dat to an end cause you ?tired?.? He cleared his throat and slowly moved the utensils back in, his voice low, ?I ain?t threatin? yous so don?t get your back up at me. I gunna do dese rituals for you, I just want you t?know, t?really know, dat dis thang gunna effect folks y?know dat may not care as much about d?magic and care more about your well-bein? and folks ya don?t know dat will take issue and come at you and yours guns a blazin?. You saw d'lengths some a dem cultists went to t'get it all squared away...dey'll do a lot more t'keep it.?

He wasn?t so sure the lesson on the veil and their strange world was required, but he knew he needed to drive home the dangers that this task would trigger. ?Is it really dat bad t?have dese powers, Lizzie?...Is d?burden of dat crown really so heavy for you? You could literally have anything yous want in dis city with dat title?.?

Part of him was curious to ask about the place she now called home since it wasn?t New Orleans anymore. He was curious about her doctor and her current relationship with the Hades of New Orleans but there was no place for friendship in business so he pushed his thoughts aside and focused. He pondered on what manner of items she would need to collect to get her through the far reaches of the veil into the land where only the dead should be as she spoke. By the time she was done, he?d thought about the ingredients and procedures she would need to take care of and some that he would need to deal with himself.

?Well, Cinderelli, let?s get y?back into yo comfortable rags den if dat ball gown aint wha?cha really want, ah?? He clapped his hands together, drawing some attention from the others in the restaurant briefly before he rubbed them together. He rubbed them hard and fast until they were warm and tingling, just shy of burning with the friction of his pale palms against one another. Before he started speaking he stopped and leaned his arms on the table.

?Location and time, y?gunna meet me at midnight when d?moon full, out back a Theatre Olympia. Y?know where dat at?? One of his dark eyebrows arched briefly at the question to check in with her before he continued, ?Y?gunna need t?find some sorta thang t?tetha yous to dis here world. If y?don?t got somethin? to hang onto, y?gunna get lost over dere. And it easy to get lost over dere. Sometimes, d?spirits talk sweet thangs in y?ear dat make it seem like dey can do no wrong but dere all sorts, Lizzie. Just like ?ere. Good, bad...but dey all got one thang in common and dat is dey dead.? He paused to level a rather serious look at her, ?You isn?t. So yous gunna light up like a god daym christmas tree if we don?t do dis here thang propa.?

He sighed and relaxed a little, scratching his fingernails into his goatee as he thought outloud, still formulating a plan, ?D?best way t?get you in and out again in one peice is gunna be t?make you seem like y?dead too. You gunna needs to blend.? He paused in his scratching to point at her, ?Can?t be plastic and it can?t be anything? dat is frivolous or impersonal. It gotta mean somethin?. It gotta be honest like. I was thinkin? dat your lighter would work but d?more I think on it, d?more I realize dat won?t do. Can?t be anythin? dat ain?t natural or is man-made. It can be metal but only d?pure ones. High heat resistance is also betta, so gold and aluminum wouldn?t be as good as say tungsten or titanium.?

?For d?ritual, y?gunna need t?take a bath before, like hair-still-wet-when-you-arrive, right before. Brush it nice but don?t dry it. Yous gunna need to wear white too.? The corners of his lips curled upward briefly in a twitch of a smirk as he didn?t think he?d ever seen the girl in anything other than black or dark tones, it would be a first. ?Not all white, but a good eighty percent of it. Get a box a matches. Bottle a rum, white preferably. .40 caliba bullets...six a dem worth a gunpowda outta do it. And a doubloon from eitha d?yea yous born or d?yea y?got all tangled up in dis life.? He gave a wave of his hand, ?It don?t make no nevermind which Krewe?s, just d?yea.?

Finished with listing off the items, he leaned back in his seat and folding his arms over his chest, looked pensive for a moment, ?Dere some otha thangs I?ll have t?take care of on my end but we got a li?l time.? Steupsing sound made again, he looked around the restaurant, people had returned to their conversations and activities once again ignoring the pair and their conversation.

When he returned his attention to her, he sighed, ?Now...when we gets ova dere...I?m only gunna be able t?take yous so far, Li?l bug. Y?gunna be doin? most a d?searchin? on your own. But I think dat?s good. But dat?s where dem apples I tell you need t?get gunna come in. Since y?alive and not dead, d?Othaside gunna take a toll on your body. Dem apples gunna sustain ya. I suggest two for lookin? and two for gettin? d?hell outta dodge cause as soon as things know yous tryin? to take away from dat place, you gunna have trouble.? He pursed his lips and lowered his voice again, like the idea of what they were talking about was dangerous, conspiritus. In a way, it was, ?If y?get in too deep...if y?think y?ain?t gunna be able t?make it back in time or somethin? trap ya?.? He looked to the table and frowned a little, ?Y?can call for me. Y?gotta use my title dere though. And only my title.? He lifted his eyes and wagged his finger a bit at her, ?Use my name and you gunna damn me further den dis gunna do as is.?

He cleared his throat when he was done with the warning and the dire situation before going on, ?Y?gunna be lookin? for the thang dat hold your soul. Usually some sorta vessel: Jar, bottle, hells, I even had a fella with his in a guitar case. Now?what dat gunna be for yous, I?m afraid I can?t say. It different for everybody...but yous gunna know it when you sees it. Feel it even. Only dem folks involved in the contract and contact with your soul gunna knows it: You, Hades and Jimmie.?

?So, li?l miss Theseus,? Metisse gave a wide toothy grin of amusement at the humourous similarity - a living person, heading to the land of the dead, in the name of Persephone, ?Y?got any questions? Or it all clear as mud??