'Yes, mahn. The Queen, she is the Mamaloi, the priestess. There's two kinds obeah. The white and the red. The red, their god is the snake.'
'What's the difference?'
'In white obeah, in that juju bag would be a chicken, maybe a goat…an animal.'
'In the red…?'
'The goat without horns, mahn,' Clarence said, his hands clasped together. A quick shudder passed through his thin frame.
149
Belinda was a cop. In books, people are fascinated with mysteries. Can't let them slide. Books have plots— life has plotters. Maybe Belinda was the front end of a decoy operation, maybe Carlos had already rolled over for the Man and she was with the backup team. Or maybe it was me they were looking at— maybe she heard about me, wanted to freelance a bit. Get a gold shield to pin on that fine chest.
I wondered if she'd ever had a dog named Blackie. If she'd really liked Pansy.
Clarence picked the lock on the privacy of my mind. 'You gonna do it, mahn? Go there, see the Queen?'
I nodded.
150
Two more dead days. Then I went out to answer the call. Just before midnight, I crossed the Triboro, took the far right lane to Queens, exited at Ninety-fourth Street, just before La Guardia. Rolled south to Northern Boulevard, turned left to the voodoo house. The gate was open. I pulled the Plymouth inside, all the way around to the back. Two men in the yard, dressed in their black and white. I got out slowly so I wouldn't spook them. They looked through me, said nothing.
I walked to the back door. A bright red arrow was freshly painted on the side of the house, pointing to a set of stone steps. Down.
Another way to the basement. I followed the steps to the bottom. By then, I knew better than to knock. No doorknob. I pushed, it opened, and I was inside.
The underground room seemed bigger than the last time. She was where she was before, a faint shape in the gloomy shadows. I walked to her. Candles popped into life all around the room, thick and stubby as fists, fat-flamed. Red and white, lacing the dark in an alternating pattern like the pin heads on the juju bag. Cloth-sounds on either side of me as I moved. Deep dampness from the stone walls. The floor felt like packed earth beneath the soles of my boots.
'Do you believe now?' she asked, soft-voiced as I approached.
I sat before her. 'The baby was in the water,' I replied.
'Yes. And now you hunt again.'
'Not for…'
'I know. Not for him. For the false gods. For what those like you call the devil.'
'Yes.'
'You do not ask how I know. Have you learned, then?'
'Yes.'
'Where is your son tonight?'
'I have no son.'
'Yes, hunter, you have a son. The young one who was with you when you last came. He is dark like us, but his heart is like yours. A son looks to his father for guidance. For the Way. Your way is to hunt. And he follows.'
'No, it's just a job. He works for others.'
'And to those others, you are a hired man, yes?'
'Yes.'
'And so then is he. Like you. It is from you he learns, not from them. And he protects you, like a son.'
'He's a professional— it's his job.'
'No. His master gave him the message. From me. To you. And so you are here now. But the boy, he has been here since yesterday afternoon. Just across the street, in one of the rooms they rent.'
'How…?'
'He paid the lady extra so he could have a room with a window on the street. The bathroom is down the hall. In his room, in his suitcase, he has a rifle. One that comes in two pieces. It is our house, there. The lady is not one of us, but she knows what to do. It is your son.'
'He won't do anything. I'll…'
'It is all right. He is safe. Ask me your questions now— we have work to do before the sun.'
'The people I'm looking for…' I started, reaching in my pocket for the mug shots Wolfe had given me.
She held up her hand. 'We do not know them. Not by their faces. But by their practice, they are known. They are not sorcerers, they have no magic. Poison is their weapon. Their poison, it makes the wolf who walks.'
'No. They…'
'What Europeans call a werewolf, child of sadness. Before there was legend, before there was myth, there was truth. Their poison, it makes a beast. When the beast feeds, when it is satisfied, it is a man again. You have
