KID ROCK'S 'Bull God' blared from the decrepit black Chevy that pulled up in front of the auto repair shop where Z.J. Jenkins worked. He grimaced. His friend's broken radio and CD player were forever stuck on an '80's Favorites station.
Z.J. opened the door and got in before any of the guys he worked with could hear the music. As the youngest mechanic at seventeen, he'd never hear the end of it. Nico grinned and made a horn sign with two fingers. "I love this song."
"Don't embarrass me." Z.J. ran a hand over his closely shaven skull and peered into the rear view mirror as Nico swung the truck onto the street.
"How is Kid Rock embarrassing? What d'you think they'll play next? Green Day or Alannis Morrisette?"
"I don't know those." Z.J. slouched in the seat, narrowing his eyes as they drove past the convenience store. The African-American man who'd been idling in the convenience store across the street hadn't moved from the magazine stand. He'd been reading a copy of Time for the past two hours. He was too well-dressed to be a cop. And he wasn't one of the Others, because it was daylight.
"You are not a connoisseur of classic music. It's Friday. Don't look so grim.That's Alannis." Nico, black hair slanting over one eye, tapped ink-painted fingernails on the steering wheel as a woman began to howl from the radio.
Nico's mom was from Kenya and his dad was Native American, but that coolness was ruined by his having gone emo over the past year. Although Z.J. didn't judge his friends' life choices, this had been a tough call. Nico continued, "So, burgers? Then the pool at Hotel de Plaza?"
"No. We can't sneak back into a place we got kicked out of."
"And why did we get kicked out? Oh, yeah, because you thought there was an alligator in the pool and freaked out."
"I didn't freak out." Actually, Z.J. had thought the creature in the hotel pool was an Afanc, but one of the man-faced alligator horrors hadn't been spotted in the 'New World' in centuries--it had been a guest on an alligator float and Z.J. had been drinking, which he never usually did. Alcohol lowered one's reaction time.
He was paranoid,even after three Fata-free years, ever since the business up in Fair Hollow, New York. The Black Scissors--who only got in touch by mail or in person because he said the Fatas could hack electronic communications--hadn't dropped him a letter in three months.
Life was good. Z.J. was bored.
Nico swung onto the street where Z.J.'s mom's shop was located. She worked as a psychic. She wasn't. She was just good at guessing and great at a con.
"I'll pick you up in two hours," Nico called as Z.J. stepped out of the truck. "Po boys and the pool at The Beautiful House?"
He peeled out before Z.J. could say "Hell no" to the last part of his friend's suggestion--The Beautiful House was a hotel, old and grand and not on the national registry. Z.J. had his suspicions about it and its air of Don't come here.
Z.J. slipped into his mom's shop, with its incense air and tinkling wind chimes. She'd furnished the shop in thrift store chic, which wasn't mirrored in the neat and modern apartment upstairs.
"Z.J." His mom moved from beyond the red velvet drapes that hid the steps. "You missed dinner again."
She swept past him, her black dress swirling, pearls glimmering around her neck. She patted his head on the way, even though she had to reach up to do it, since he was six-foot to her five.
"You ate though, right?" He turned as she began switching on the mood lighting. Her serious clients tended to come at night.
"Mac and cheese and hot dogs and sauerkraut." She looked up and the light from a chandelier slid across her glasses.
"At least it's not green bean casserole again." He dashed up the stairs.
"What's wrong with my green beat casserole?" she called after him.
"It always tastes like incense."
In his room at the back, which had once been an enclosed porch, he opened his locked wardrobe and, ignoring the weapons hung at the back, considered what to wear--most of his clothes were in a pile in a corner of the room.He had to move two stacks of books--unfortunately, the sorts of books he needed weren't available as ebooks because they were rare--to find a decent pair of jeans and his favorite T-shirt.
He skipped the macaroni and hot dogs and microwaved a frozen burrito. He stood at the window while eating it, gazing out at the church across the street. It was lit up like the holidays although it was midsummer, the air swampy with heat. It was an old church, its round window a dazzling circle of sapphire, ruby, and topaz. He liked the way the light shone into his room at night. It was comforting.
***
Phoebe had gotten off the bus. She sensed the bad thing following two hours later, when the sun set. She didn't know how it had followed her. That meant it was a spirit, despite the shape it wore.
She found a crowded cafe and ate there, cheaply. She didn't have much money left. She was seventeen. She hadn't exactly been saving up. She hadn't expected her dad to die.
Her breath hitched. The French fries and po boy turned to lead in her stomach.
She left the cafe and wandered the French Quarter, keeping an eye out for any sign of the creatures that had taken her twin brother. Despite the tattered bits of knowledge she'd scrapped together about them, she still had to go by instinct--that chill at the back of her neck, the feeling that the person before you wasn't really a person.
The French Quarter, with its hordes of tourists and young people, would be a perfect hunting ground for their kind, so it was there she went. Her denim jacket, jeans, and boots were glamoured up by a rhinestone headband in her short russet hair.
She had her weapons. She'd never killed anything before. The weapons were holy amulets and a small journal filled with spells she'd made up. Enough, she hoped, to track a faery queen and get her brother back.
She spent her first night in New Orleans in a church, because the spirit following her wouldn't be able to get in. There were two other people there, praying, so she knelt with her head on her arms.
She fell asleep.
She woke to dim lighting and the votive candles flickering. The church was empty. She wasn't so tired now. She sat back and rubbed at her face.
The voice that drifted to her from the entrance caused her stomach to heave. No. She gripped the wood of the pew.
"Red rover, red rover, come on over."
It couldn't get into the church. but she had to know...
She turned and saw only a shadow beyond the open doors. The shadow was huge and ragged, as if it were scarcely holding itself together. That's how powerful it was. Yet it didn't enter.
Sick and shaking, she rose and walked unsteadily toward the open doors. She clutched the heart pendant she wore around her neck. Carved from acacia, the pendant was almost as big as her hand.
The spirit was gone.
The doors slammed shut before her . She almost screamed when she saw the two bloody hand prints on the wood.
***
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