I shuddered. “I think you’re right.” I glanced up at the darkened windows of the other homes along the Battery. “What do you think Coltt’s found?”
Evann gave a crafty smile. “I don’t know what’s he’s discovered, but I do know the judge’s house was at the top of his list to explore.”
We hustled along with our capes drawn close against the autumn wind. As we passed the entrance to one of the many small, narrow alleyways, my magic tingled. I’ve got water magic, and I’m strongest when I’m at sea, but close to the bay I could feel the pull of its power, and I knew from prior experience that spirits could feel it, too. Evann hadn’t been kidding about Charleston being one of the most haunted cities in the former colonies. New Orleans might rival us, maybe. Both are gracious cities built on rivers of blood and a world of human suffering. The rich folks choose not to remember, but the spirits never forget.
A shot rang out at close quarters. Evann grabbed me and shoved me against the wall, and we waited, but there were no running footsteps, no shouts for the police. Exchanging a worried glance, Evann and I straightened our clothes and ventured away from the shelter of the wall, daring to peer down the narrow alley.
“Have you seen him?” The voice startled me. I looked more closely, and saw a young man standing in the shadows. My eyes narrowed, and I looked with my magic instead of merely sight. The man’s outline glowed faintly with a light blue nimbus. Now that I took a closer look, I could see that he bore a fatal chest wound, unfortunately not uncommon in the alleyways of Charleston. Dozens of headstrong young men met their untimely deaths at the hands of an aggrieved rival and a fast bullet in the side streets of the Holy City. But only one had bothered to hail us.
“Who are you looking for?” I asked, expecting the shade to be searching for his killer.
“The death mage.”
That brought Evann and me up short. “What do you mean?” I said carefully, although I certainly had a good idea.
“Can’t you feel him? You’ve got a touch of magic to you. There’s a hocus who binds souls to the tide. The spirits run from him, those who can. But the girl can’t get away.”
Evann and I exchanged glances. “What girl?” I asked.
“Are ye deaf?” the spirit asked, shaking his head. “Can’t you hear her wailing? She’s a pretty lass in a blue dress with a fancy brooch, and she sobs something fierce.”
“Where have you seen her?”
“Up and down the Battery. Mostly at high tide in the night.”
High tide. Odd for that to come up again so soon. Not a coincidence, I was sure of it.
“I’ve been looking for that girl,” I said cautiously. “Her name is Felicity Barre. Her family is very worried about her. Do you know anything else that might help me set her free?”
The ghost seemed to take my measure. “Maybe. I know someone who knows a lot about spirits and hocus. She’s the one who told me I’m doomed to die in the same damned duel night after night until I put things right. She might could help you.”
“Much obliged,” I murmured. The ghost turned, and Evann and I followed him down the narrow alley. We wound through the back streets of Charleston, a world apart from the glittering ball we had just left. These were dark, dank streets even the harbour’s burly longshoremen feared to tread. They were the province of Charleston’s slaves, and they were not generally a welcome place for people like Evann and me, or for our guide, had he still been mortal.
I could feel eyes watching us as we passed the abysmal slave quarters. It was after 10 p.m. curfew, and few bondsmen would risk the beating that could come if they were found in the streets after the bells rang. I could feel the suspicion that greeted us, and the fear. There was magic, too, strange and powerful, from somewhere far away, utterly outside of my own experience.
“By the way, I’m Ellison,” the ghost said over his shoulder. “Ellison Hawking-Muir the Third.” He paused. “My friends used to call me Hawk.”
“Nice to meet you, Hawk,” I said. “How did you come to be in a duel?”
“I was called out because I danced with the wrong girl at a party, and she told her brother I had somehow insulted her,” Hawk replied. “I hadn’t meant to. I tried to apologize. But her brother wouldn’t have it, and demanded a duel for her honour. Stupid game. Turns out, he was a member of that secret duelling society. Probably trumped up a reason to call me out. He’d already shot four men dead before me. I didn’t stand a chance.”
“I’m sorry,” I told Hawk. I’d heard about Charleston duels, a pastime of rich, spoiled young men with more money than sense. It didn’t surprise me that duelling would be just another form of one-upmanship, only a game that left the loser dead instead of just humiliated. “What happened to your murderer?”
Hawk gave a sharp, bitter laugh. “Happened? Nothing happened. Not for a while.” The ghost dropped his voice, although I was pretty sure I was the only one who could hear him. “Until he came back to the alley for another duel. I could see he’d picked another easy mark, like I’d been. Poor fellow must have borrowed the gun; he could barely tell the butt from the barrel.”
“And?” I asked, sure there was more to the story.
Hawk glanced at me over his shoulder, his lips pressed in a tight, pained smile. “Just as the guy who had challenged me sighted to aim, I tackled him. Went right through him. It made him shiver, and it threw off his aim. He missed, and the poor fellow he’d challenged was so frightened he managed to squeeze off a shot and got lucky. Took my murderer through the shoulder, and he bled to death before his buddies could do anything about it. The other guy ran off as fast as he could.” Hawk didn’t look as smug as I’d expected him to. Instead, he just looked sad. “But I’m still here.”
Finally, Hawk stopped in front of an old slave cabin. I hesitated, unsure of what to do. Walking up and knocking didn’t seem like a good idea. Before I could ask Hawk what came next, the door opened and an old woman dressed in white stood in the doorway.
“That’s Mama Nadege,” Hawk whispered. “Tell her I brought you.”
“Mama Nadege?” I managed, finding my throat had gone dry. “I’m supposed to tell you that Hawk brought me here. It’s about the weeping ghost.”
Mama Nadege looked me up and down, and then she did the same to Evann. When she spoke, I could see that her gaze was fixed just off to my right, where Hawk’s ghost stood. “Well, of course Hawk brought you. He’s right with you, plain as day.” Her voice was thick as gumbo, heavy with the consonants of the islands and somewhere else I couldn’t place.
“Come in then. The neighbours won’t bother you none, not now that they know you’re here to see me,” she added, with a glance towards the darkened buildings behind us.
We followed Mama Nadege into her house. The air was heavy with the smell of incense and candle smoke. Mama Nadege was a big woman, swathed in a white, loose gown. Her hair was tied up in a kerchief, and I couldn’t tell her age from her face. Her eyes were what drew me. Black eyes, dark as her skin, like deep pools for drowning. Her magic flowed around me, almost smothering in its intensity, but my power sensed no threat. She was curious, and intrigued. And I had the unsettling feeling that she had been expecting us.
Her small cabin was hung with brightly coloured block-printed cloths and filled with candles, clay figures, crude stuffed, dolls, and carved wooden images. Lanyards of shells, beads and dried plants festooned everything.
“You’re a mambo,” Evann said.
Mama Nadege smiled. “Mambo asogwe,” she replied.
Evann turned to me. “She’s a high priestess of voodoo.”
I’d heard that term before, but I hadn’t associated it with Charleston. “I thought voodoo only happened in New Orleans,” I replied.
Mama Nadege laughed, a deep chuckle that resonated. “Oh, there be voodoo in Charleston, all right. My mama was born in Haiti, where we know how to talk to spirits. She was brought to New Orleans and sold there, but her mistress married a man from Charleston and brought my mama with her. She raised me in the power. She wasn’t the only one he brought here from New Orleans, either. Oh, no, child, the voodoo is all around you. You’re just too pale to notice,” she said, and laughed heartily at her own joke.
She sobered and looked at me again, and I felt tendrils of her magic gliding over my skin. I fought the urge to shiver. “You’ve got some power,” she murmured, her consonants smooth as a spicy roux. “Considerable power. Why’d it bring you to me, child?”
