Ganymede (The Clockwork Century 3)

“Then he might get lashed to a bed yet. ”

“Oh, you stop it,” Josephine said, but she smiled. And she added, “But I want to thank you for sending Cly out, like you did. He was as well prepared as anyone could expect, and I appreciate it. But now that I’m back, I don’t suppose you could cover things for me just a few minutes longer, could you? I’m absolutely filthy from that camp, and if I don’t get a bath soon, I’ll chase away whatever customers we have left, now that this damn curfew is taking hold and sticking. ”

An hour later she was back, freshly dressed and feeling fully human once more. Her hair was pinned and free of leaf litter or moss scraps, and there was no more peat beneath her fingernails.

Hazel was no longer alone in the lobby.

On the love seat under the frontmost window, much to Josephine’s surprise, Fenn Calais was happily chattering with Marie Laveau.

At first impression, they nattered as if they’d known each other for a lifetime already, but as Josephine descended the stairs and overheard more of the conversation, she realized that impression was misleading. It was a “getting to know you” chat of the strangest sort—the elderly voudou queen and the somewhat less elderly Texian, who was testing out his precious few words of French and getting a friendly, giggling reaction from the woman. She corrected him gently.

“Non, Mr. Calais. You spell the t on the end, but you do not say it. You let the word end a few letters from its conclusion. Say it again: vraiment. Say it, and don’t close your mouth at the end to make the t sound. It’s not so hard, vraiment,” she added with a wink.

“Ma’am, I just cannot do it to save my life. I think the French are the only folks on earth who are harder on their vowels than us Southerners. And if I never master it, c’est la vie!”

She laughed and said, “Now I know you’ve only been teasing!” Then, upon seeing Josephine, stalled and perplexed on the bottom stair, she said, “Ah, my dear. There you are. Hazel told me you were in the bath. ”

“Madame Laveau, yes. Hello. Welcome to the Garden Court. Can I … can I get you anything?”

“Non, sweet dear. Only your time, if I might impose. ”

“At any time. Ever. ”

Fenn took this as his cue to relocate, saying, “I suppose Delphine is starting to wonder where I’ve gone off to. Perhaps I’ll just rejoin her. ”

“Have a good evening, Mr. Calais,” Josephine told him, never taking her eyes off the woman ensconced on the firmly padded seat. When Fenn was gone, she took his place. She did not bother to ask how her visitor made it past the curfew. Instead she asked, “What can I do for you, ma’am?”

Mrs. Laveau took her hand and squeezed it. “I’m here because you’ll be receiving a visitor, any minute now. A gentleman. ”

“This is a certain kind of business,” she murmured, half joking but half nervous, too.

“Not a customer, a visitor. And I’m not telling your fortune, dear one. I’m here to prepare you for the introduction. He’s a man you’re likely to treat with hostility, insofar as you’re able. But I’m here to tell you, you must not do that. ”

“I don’t understand. ” Josephine frowned over at Hazel, who looked back anxiously.

“He’s a Texian. But he’s no part of your … present interests. He wishes to consult you, about the Dead Who Walk. ”

“Ma’am Laveau, I try hard to be a hostess, and in this city that means I am compelled to be civil to many Texians, whether I like it or not. I’m sure I can find it in my heart to be polite to this one. Why is he coming here? Why would he think I know anything about the zombis?”

“He’s a Ranger, dearest. An investigating man, for a matter requiring careful investigation. And he’s coming here because I suggested it,” she said, lowering her voice and leaning close. She held Josephine’s hand tighter, and Hazel drew in her breath with a tiny gasp—reminding them both that she was in the room.

The hands that clasped Josephine’s were as thin as twigs, despite the woman’s otherwise stout appearance. Gas lamplight twinkled on the silver of her rings, and on the red, blue, and green of the gems or colored glass found therein. The queen smelled like sandalwood and sage, feathers and dust. And in her eyes, sunken with age, there smoldered a deep, grim light.

“Child, do you know how long I’ve walked this world?”

“No, ma’am. ”

“Eighty years, give or take, as the Lord gives—and the Lord takes. I do not think I shall live to enjoy another one. ”

“Ma’am, don’t talk that way. ”

She released Josephine’s fingers and gave them a lovi

ng pat. “Why not? Such is the way of things, isn’t it? Time turns us all, and I’ve danced longer than many. I do not regret a single tune. ” Her smile slipped, only a little. She restored it and continued. “But that’s why you must speak to this Ranger. He will help you, when I’m gone. ”

“Ma’am, I am very confused. A Ranger?”

“Speak with him,” she pleaded. “New Orleans is home these days to worse than Texians, dearest. The zombis grow in numbers every day, and soon even the most determined nonbeliever will be forced to face them. They must be managed now, before they become unmanageable. And I will not be able to help. These Texians who you hate so much, they are only men—only living men, and most of them would leave as happily as you’d have them gone. While they are here, you must work with them. We do not always get to choose our allies. ”