[Sodium_noir] A saturday in Darktown

[eagandigh@compuserve.de]

Pit pat. Pit pat. The first thing that registered to Maurice’s senses 
was something dripping on the floor. Then the smell hit him. It was a 
mixture of the metallic and stale smell of blood, the awful smell of 
spilled entrails and the smell of starting decay. To a normal person 
it would have been revolting. Maurice noticed it, and then pushed it 
from his mind. The smell of blood did not arouse him, he was sated. 
Somehow he had the feeling he knew what had sated him.
His eyes flickered open and he saw the ceiling of his secret hideout 
under the Poteau Mitan, the pole in the centre of the petit temple. He 
slowly rose and looked at the scene unfolding before him. A little 
lamp cast a weak light in the room, but his tongue already flickered 
out to better smell his surroundings. Several bodies lay crumbled in 
the room. The body of one guy lay sprawled on a table, his throat 
ripped open and his blood was dripping off the table. Pit pat. He had 
a shadowy memory of strange dreams. Maurice stood up. There were 
several male bodies lying there, five in all. They all had been 
savaged. Bone broken, throats ripped out. Some had even been 
eviscerated, their entrails lying beside their bodies and even a chest 
cavity had been torn asunder. The heart was missing.
Maurice looked at his hands. Coagulated blood had painted them red. 
His body was splattered with blood. He moved to the mirror, its 
surface hadn’t escaped the carnage. It was soiled like the rest of the 
room. He inspected himself. He was covered in mottled scales, his eyes 
sparkled golden and were slitted. To a normal human being he looked 
like a veritable monster. He surveyed the room. What he probably was, 
all things considered.
Four women lay among the men. Their skin had not been touched. No 
blood pooled around their bodies. They were twisted in agony; their 
death had not been easy. Their open mouths were froth-filled. Each of 
them had a bite mark somewhere on their bodies. Two precise incisions. 
Around these wounds the skin looked sick and swollen. He looked back 
at the mirror and concentrated. Slowly the scales disappeared, 
replaced by smooth, black mammalian skin.
“Awake at last, mon frère?” A voice said behind him in French. He 
looked behind him, startled. In the shadows atop the bed a female form 
lounged. “I wondered when you will snap out of it.” He smiled. “I 
ssink I ‘ave woken.” He waited a second then added: “’ow long ‘ave I 
been like ssiss?” Fantôme looked at him quizzically. “Today is 
Saturday. I have been watching over you since Tuesday. It wasn’t nice 
all the time.” She added. “I imagine. What ‘ass ‘appened outsside?” –
 “Well, how should I know? I was here. With you. Thankfully quite 
unseen. There were times when I was sure you would have attacked me, 
if you had known I was there.” Maurice shrugged his shoulders 
apologetically. “I wass not quite myself.” She looked at him 
queryingly. “You seem to have aquired a slight lisp.” Which was the 
understatement of the decade. “Sseemss sso.” He smacked his lips, 
rolled around his tongue. “Can’t sseem to get rid of it.” Fantôme 
smiled. She pointed to the ceiling. A faint drumming came from above. 
It had been there all the time, but only now Maurice became aware of 
it. “They are celebrating your resurrection. Their loa is coming back 
from his vision quest. You shouldn’t let them wait.” He looked 
up. “You want to go like that?” She asked. He looked down at his body. 
He was splattered in blood and quite naked. He turned to Fantôme a 
glimmer in his eyes. “Why not? Ssey want sseir loa raw and terrifying. 
Ssey will get sseir loa raw and terrifying.” She moved closer to 
him. “Take at least this.” And she put a talisman around his neck. 
Then she took some flour out of a bag and skilfully drew a vèvè on his 
chest. The one of Ogoun. She stepped back. “Better.”  Maurice smiled. 
Above him the drumming got louder as the Poteau Mitan slowly 
descended. Smoke drifted down into the room. Maurice looked up. “Are 
you coming?” He asked. “No, I will take the route through the sewers. 
See you later, mon amour.” She whispered. When he turned toward her, 
she was already gone. Disappearing like a ghost into thin air. The 
drumming got more frantically, the chanting rose to frenzy. Time to be 
reborn, he thought and ascended.

[TBC]