John Ringo: Princess of Wands

“Sugar.”

She got out of the car, noticing that it had gotten hot even in her brief sojourn, and walked back in the hotel.

The same old lady was on the rocking chair and seemed to be asleep.

“Pardon me, ma’am,” Barbara said, softly. “Ma’am?”

“Uh?” the old woman said, sitting up and smacking her lips. “Sorry, was up late.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Barb said, smiling sweetly. “I seem to be having car problems. Is there a phone around? My cell won’t work.”

“Ain’t none of them towers around,” the lady said, peering shortsightedly at the cell phone still clutched in Barbara’s hand. “Pay phone down at the Piggly Wiggly. Ain’t got none here.”

Barb was reasonably sure that the last meant that the hotel had no phone, which seemed remarkably antiquated even for south Louisiana. But she just nodded in thanks and walked out.

By day the town was somewhat more pleasant than by night. The courthouse still looked as if it could use a coat of paint, or maybe a major fire, but there were a few more houses than she’d thought and a bait and tackle shop that doubled as a liquor store. Maybe she’d go fishing. Or get stinking drunk and explain just what she thought of the place. No key on the door, no bathroom in the room, it was worse than Egypt for God’s sake.

No, not God. Take not the name even in thought.

The Piggly Wiggly was… fair. No dirtier than others she’d seen and the pay phone was at least operational. She pulled out the paperwork and thirty-five cents, then called the service company.

Yes, I have a problem with my automobile, one. Yes, I need roadside assistance, one. No, I don’t want to use the automated system. No, I am not at my home. Yes, I’d like to speak to an operator. I’ll wait !

As she punched the various buttons on the Kevorkian disconnect phone-tree she stood with her back to the glass of the Piggly Wiggly, ensuring that she could keep an eye on what was going on around her. It wasn’t because of the situation, it was just how she used the phone. She’d rotated to the right side of the phone despite the fact that it put her back to the glass because that way she could hold the phone in her left hand and keep her right free.

“Thank you for calling Honda Warranty Service International, my name is Melody, how may I help you?”

“My car won’t start,” Barbara said. I was hoping to order pizza, how do you think you can help me?

“Where is the vehicle?” Melody asked with a distinct midwest accent.

“Thibideau, Louisiana,” Barb said. “At the Thibideau Inn.”

“Do you have your warranty number?” the girl asked, brightly.

Barbara read off the numbers patiently.

“I’m sorry, ma’am,” the girl said with a real note of distress in her voice. “There isn’t a Honda dealership within service range of Thibideau, Louisiana. However, we do have an allied service representative, Thibideau Tire and Auto, who should be able to get you on the road again. Are you at the vehicle location now?”

“No,” Barb said, trying not to swear even mentally. “I can get there before they can, though. But there’s no phone there.”

“That will be fine. According to the computer they should be no more than thirty minutes getting there.”

“I need a rentacar,” Barbara said.

“I’m sorry, ma’am, but, again, the location is outside of rental service area,” the girl said, really distressed. “But, I’m sure that… Thibideau Tire and Auto will be able to get you going quickly.”

Left hind leg of a camel. Sugar .

“Thank you for your help,” Barb said, sweetly.

“Thank you, ma’am, and I hope you have a good day.”

Sugar, sugar, sugar!

She pulled the coins out of the drop and inserted them again, dialing zero and then her home number at the tone.

“If you’d like to place a collect call, press one.”

One.

“I’m sorry, ma’am, but that’s an answering machine,” the operator said after a moment.

“Can you hold a moment?” she asked.

“Yes, ma’am,” the operator said.

She dug in her purse and came up with a handful of change.

“Can you change it over to a for-pay call?”

“Yes, ma’am. That will be seventy-five cents for two minutes.”

She inserted the coins and then waited until the answering service picked up.

“Mark, this is Barb. I’m not in Gulfport. I went down to the bayou for some atmosphere and Cajun food. I’m fine and I should be home on time on Monday. The car’s broken down but there’s a local service place. I’ll try to call you ag-” Beep.

Sugar.

“Come in, Sergeant Lockhart, come in,” Madame Charlotte said from the deeps of her shop.

Kelly pushed aside a bead curtain and paused in the doorway, waiting for his eyes to adjust to the gloom.

“I’d ask you how you knew it was me, but I don’t think I’d like the answer,” Kelly said, smiling.

“I gots a video camera,” Madame Charlotte said, pointing to the monitor mounted over Kelly’s head. “You wouldn’t believe the terrible people try to steal from an old lady.”

“Must not be locals,” Kelly said, sitting down across the table from the medium. “They’d be afraid of being turned into a snake or a zombie or something.”

“I don’t do that sort of thing, Mr. Detective,” Madame Charlotte said, grinning, her teeth standing out against her jet black face. She was a slight woman with gray-shot hair peeking out from under a colorful kerchief and a face wrinkled like the lines on a map. “Not so’s you’d notice.”

“Glad to hear that,” Kelly said, smiling back.

“But I knowed you’d be stopping in yesterday,” Madame Charlotte stated. “Saw it in the cards. Terrible cards, lately, just terrible. You need to watch your step, Sergeant Lockhart, the Reaper is your sign, him who takes the souls.”

“That’s because I’m so thin,” Kelly replied.

“Laugh if you will,” the medium replied. “But you be searching for Carlane. Hisself is gone from here, gone back to whence he come.”

“Where’s that?” Kelly asked. “And why’d he leave?”

“He has the sign of the Wizard,” Madame Charlotte said, laying out the card. “And the Hangman,” she added. “He messing with powerful magic and ain’t got the training. Powerful. I wouldn’t mess with nothin’ like this and I be a mistress of the arts.” The medium laid her cards out and pointed to one. “But there’s another. This be the sign of the Princess of Wands. She’s a powerful force for Good. Good will be by your side, Detective Sergeant Kelly Lockhart. Just you look sharp for the sign of the Princess or… you won’t be lookin’ no more.”

“Do you know where Carlane has gone?” Kelly pressed.

“Aye, back to the swamps that bore him,” Madame Charlotte said. “He’s from down Thibideau way. Look you there, Sergeant Lockhart, but you be watching you back. There’s powerful art stirring in the swamp, powerful and every man’s hand against you. Look for the sign of the Princess. She be your only hope.”

The first good thing that had happened since getting to this forsaken burg was that when she got to the car the tow-truck had just arrived. The driver was a short man, swarthy and with lanky black hair. He could have been the brother of the convenience store clerk. In fact, thinking back, all of the locals had had the same look, like they were all from the same extended family. Come to think of it, she wished she’d never thought of it.

“It won’t turn over,” she said as the man got out of the truck.

“Could be the battery,” he said in a thick Cajun accent. “Could be the alternator. I’ll try to give it a jump.”