David Robbins - New Orleans Run

“You don’t have any proof,” Eleanore declared, taking a step toward him.

“What’s that?”

“You don’t have any proof I joined the Resistance. You’re just guessing,” Eleanore reiterated.

The Baron grinned smugly. “First of all, what makes you think I need proof? If I believe someone is guilty of conspiring against the Black Snake Society, then they’re guilty.” He paused. “However, in your case I do happen to have concrete substantiation of your betrayal.”

“Liar.”

“Oh?” The Baron twisted, looking at the entrance. “Would you come out now, my dear,” he called out.

Another woman emerged from the mansion. She wore a blue dress styled to accent her feminine charms. Her blonde hair bobbed as she walked, and her green eyes regarded the captives coldly, especially one of them.

Lynx saw Eleanore’s eyes widen and heard her gasp. She swayed, about to fall, but recovered and cried shrilly, “Violet!”

“Little Eleanore,” Violet said, her tone reeking with disdain. “At long last you’re about to get your just desserts.”

“You’ve turned against the Resistance, “Eleanore declared in disbelief.

“You fool. I’ve never been with the Resistance,” Violet replied.

“But you’re the leader of the movement!”

“What movement? A few pathetic fools foolishly attempting to overthrow the Black Snake Society? Don’t make me laugh.”

“This can’t be happening.”

“But it is, you dumb bitch. I’ve been one of the Baron’s favorites ever since he first brought me here when I was fifteen. Unlike you, I knew a good thing when I saw it. I agreed to work with him, to do whatever he wanted, and he instructed me to infiltrate the Resistance. Neither of us ever imagined I’d become the leader.”

“But why?” Eleanore asked, her voice wavering.

“Are you that dumb you can’t figure it out? What better way to keep tabs on the opposition than to have someone on the inside? I keep him informed of all Resistance activities. I provide him with the names of all Resistance members.”

“Why not just wipe it out?”

“Because new malcontents are bound to arise, and this way the Black Snake Society keeps track of each and every one. Why wipe the Resistance out when we control those opposed to us?”

Eleanore appeared dazed by the revelations. “I still don’t understand. What about the radio?”

“What about it? I sabotaged the shortwave. Even if someone had heard Adrien’s weak signal, they would never have been able to get through. We let him go on broadcasting for a couple of weeks to ensure any suspicion that arose after he was captured would be diverted from me,” Violet boasted.

“Enough of this,” the Baron suddenly snapped. “The bitch doesn’t deserve to know all of our secrets.” He faced the assembled tonton macoutes . “Tonight is a special night, my brothers. Tonight we offer our living god the sacrifices Damballah requires to continue bestowing on us the power that makes us invincible. Tonight we show Damballah the depths of our devotion. We will renew our covenant with the Divine Serpent, and in return our magic will become even stronger than it already is. Are you ready to recommit yourselves?”

Responding on cue, as if they had done this many times previously, the tonton macoutes shouted as one: “Yes, we are!”

“Excellent. Then let us proceed.”

Lynx barely paid attention as Majesta and Violet joined the twit in red, orders were barked, lanterns brought, the entire procession walked northward, skirting the mansion. He was too concerned about Eleanore.

She walked in a trancelike state, shuffling lethargically, apparently in shock over discovering the truth about Violet. Which reminded him. He added the blonde to the list of scuzzbuckets he intended to waste before he departed New Orleans.

After rounding the mansion the Black Snake Society marched due north to another gate in the outer walls. The iron barrier was promptly opened, and walking with his head high and his shoulders squared, in the manner of a king of old, Baron Laveau led his followers along a clear-cut path, continuing to the north.

Lynx resigned himself to going along with the program for the time being. More tonton macoutes had surrounded them as they started out, and at least ten weapons were trained on him at all times. If he so much as sneezed they might blow him away. He noted that Ferret and Gremlin were receiving similar treatment.

The path bore on a generally direct course toward the far side of the island. Thick vegetation and tall trees flanked both sides. An unnatural stillness pervaded the forest. Even the insects had fallen silent at the passage of so many humans.

Since he had nothing better to do, and since the lanterns weren’t bright enough to dispel all of the shadows, particularly from the waist down, Lynx availed himself of the opportunity to work on the cords securing his wrists. The last time he’d used his teeth. This time he had to strain against nylon, then relax, and repeat the procedure over and over in the hope the cord would slacken.

The trek seemed endless.

Just when Lynx was about to ask if the dummies knew what they were going, a two-story structure appeared ahead. It was ringed by torches, and there were arched entranceways all along the base. He didn’t like the looks of it. The Baron halted before one of the entrances and motioned with his right arm.

The practiced precision acquired by previous experience, the tonton macoutes closed on their prisoners, Lynx was caught off guard. A dozen men in black swarmed all over him, seizing his arms and legs and hoisting him into the air. He struggled in vain, unable to utilize his nails, hissing like his namesake. He felt the men move, and in less than a minute he had been carried through a dark tunnel and into an enormous arena. A smooth wall enclosed the whole area to a height of 15 feet, then there were bleachers.

Somewhere nearby, Ferret was snarling in frustrated rage.

The tonton macoutes abruptly lowered Lynx to the ground holding him tightly. A hard object brushed against his head. Then his captors astonished him they sliced the nylon rope from his wrists. Elated, he flexed his fingers. But the moment his elation changed to feral wrath when the ropes were replaced by metal shackles. “No!” he bellowed, and heaved.

The men in black had already started to release him. They hastened off toward one of the openings, snickering laughing.

Lynx looked behind him to discover a wooden post to which the shackles were fastened. Four feet of chain limited mobility. A hasty glance to his right revealed Ferret and Gremlin chained to other posts. To his left Eleanore was sagging lifelessly with her eyes closed.

“The best is yet to come, freak.”

The mocking voice drew Lynx’s gaze upward to bleachers.

Seated above the posts and leaning over the edge was the Baron. “Are you ready for the main event? It’s midnight.”

“What happens? Do you turn into a pumpkin?”

“Not quite,” Baron Laveau said, and nodded at opposite side of the arena.

Lynx glanced in that direction and spotted a huge gate. “Let me guess.

You’re having a dance?”

“Of a sort,” the Baron replied, grinning. “A dance of death.”

The tonton macoutes were almost all in position for the ceremony, dutifully filling the bleachers from bottom to top and walking up narrow aisles to reach the higher rows.

Lynx tested the shackles, surging against the steel chains, when they proved to be more than a match for his genetically heightened strength.

He recalled several stories he’d heard to the effect that Blade had broken chains on one or two occasions, and he doubted whether even the giant Warrior could break those restraining chains. But he had to find a way to get loose. If he didn’t-