House of the Angels

Mason Noir was surprisingly quiet at such a late hour, much to Grey’s relief. There was no way that Hillary or Sally or any of the cretins living in the house would be able to catch him sneaking away this time, especially in the dead of night when they were asleep. He had had enough. It was now or never

Cautiously, Grey trailed through the house and stole down to Sally’s private study for one last thing to put away in his bag. His heart thudded wildly as he entered that dark, quiet room where she kept her books and other objects for her unholy rituals. He knew that if he took what he was after, Sally would track him down and kill him. I have to take it….Grey told himself. I can’t let her keep something like this….

Four shelves up, two over from the right and Grey had found what he was looking for. He wanted to stare at its magnificent brown cover and read what was inside but he couldn’t. There wouldn’t be any time. If he strayed from his escape plan now it would cost him later.

Grey tiptoed out of the library and up the stairs, the ancient floorboards creaking beneath his black steel-toed boots. His gaze switched back and forth, trailing from one end of the hall to the other and his heart jumping every time he heard a small noise. Once he was in his room, Grey let out a huff of relief. He pressed a small kiss to the cover of the book and carefully stowed it away in his backpack.

Now to get the hell out of here……he thought.

Hoisting his heavy backpack onto his shoulder, Grey opened his bedroom window and breathed deeply. The humidity and lilac hung heavy in the air around him, but never had it smelled sweeter than on this hot summer night. He took one look back at his room before swinging one leg out the window. Grey was sure he wouldn’t miss this place…..not one bit. So far his plan had gone better than expected, but he knew better than to rest on his laurels.

Grey quietly swung his other leg out the window and began climbing the rungs of the black garden trellis, the weight of his backpack dragging him down and pulling him towards the ground. Slowly and steadily, he shifted one foot and then the other through the holes and when Grey had cleared enough space, he dropped to the ground and landed on his feet. He looked back up at Mason Noir one last time to be sure no one had heard or saw him.

“Thank you God.” He whispered gratefully.

Grey dashed through the tangled mess the residents called a garden and when he made it out to the street, he laughed and smiled at how well his plan had gone. He felt lighter than air and free as a bird as he left Mason Noir behind forever. Along the way he wondered what everyone would think when he showed up on the doorstep to Angel Manor, especially Dylan who doubted whether or not he’d actually go through with his escape plan.

Grey crossed over Pelican Bridge, the last thing separating him from freedom, and eventually wound up on Congo Street. Hardly any people were out at this hour and if they were, they were usually barflies who had overstayed their welcome.

He kept going down the many streets and squares until he realized how hungry he was. Grey made his way past a few drunks and people who weren’t paying attention until he reached Berta’s place. The tantalizing smell of her Cajun cooking drew him in and lured him to the bar where Berta was serving up the food her sons brought out from the kitchens.

“What’ll it be Grey?” she asked pleasantly. “Looks like ya’ll ain’t eaten since the Regan administration.”

“Whatever you’ve got that’ll fill me up.” Grey replied.

Berta bustled back to the kitchen and in no time at all, she brought out a plate full of freshly fried up frog legs, spicy rice and her famous collard greens. “Dig on in.” she chuckled.

Grey dug right into his late night dinner, feeling as though he had gone right to heaven. Nothing had tasted better than the frog legs that he had been denied many times before and the spicy rice was perfect.

“Ya’ll headin’ somewhere?” Berta enquired as she cleaned out a few glasses for the breakfast hour.

Grey nodded. “Angel Manor.” He replied before swallowing his food.

“I see ya’ll took Dylan’s advice and left before things got real bad.”

Grey was a bit alarmed. How did Berta know he had spoken to Dylan? Would she tell Sally he had escaped?

“Don’t worry hon.” Berta assured him, seeing the alarm in Grey’s widened eyes. “I ain’t gon tell.”

“Promise?” Grey asked.

“I swear on my grandmere’s good name I ain’t gon tell.”

Grey was grateful to know Berta wouldn’t betray his secret. Like so many of the other patrons who came in here, he knew he could trust her to keep quiet about his escape. When he had finished, Grey paid for the meal and slipped a extra few dollars into the tip jar at the other end of the bar before he left.

He walked a few more blocks past the old St Mary’s Cemetery until he came at last to St. Augustine Street. His heart swelled with happiness and nervous excitement as he trailed down block after block of old houses and hideaway buildings. The sun was just coming up with the hazy summer heat rolling low over the bayou, the rosy glow of the rising sun banishing the darkness in favor of the light. Finally, Grey rounded the streetcorner and came at last to Angel Manor.

He drew in a deep, nervous breath and let it all out before he knocked on the door. Its sea green paint had peeled and chipped away from the shudders and the walls, leaving rough, splintery patches all over it. Grey had been expecting Dylan to answer the door but instead a small girl with ruddy red hair and freckles answered.

“Are you here to see Sybilla?” she questioned.

“Uh no,” Grey answered, trying to be polite. “Is Dylan home?”

“No.” the girl said before slamming the door shut.

“Julianne!” snapped a young man’s voice from inside the house. “Open the damn door.”

The girl opened the door but no sooner had Grey crossed the threshold than the young man appeared out of the kitchen with a brown dish towel in his hand and another insult match ensued.

“Sybilla says you’re not allowed to let strangers in the house Kyle.” Julianne retorted.

“Yeah?” Kyle answered back. “Well I’m seventeen years older than you and that makes me in charge when Sybilla is gone.”

“I don’t have to do what you tell me, lizard eyes.” Julianne spat defiantly.

Grey’s jaw nearly hit the floor when he heard Julianne’s defiant comeback. This small girl really had some nerve for her age.

“Yes you do,” Kyle retorted. “Now get upstairs and quit acting like a brat.”

“No!” Julianne shot back, stamping her foot on the creaky stair. “You can’t tell me what to do!”

“NOW!” Kyle ordered.

Julianne sulked up the stairs, leaving Grey with Kyle and her feet stamping on the creaky upstairs floorboards. Kyle shook his head and rolled his eyes. “She’s really asking for it.” He muttered once he was sure Julianne was out of earshot.

“Is she your sister?” Grey asked.

“Technically no,” Kyle replied. “She’s just one of many in our adopted band of merry misfits. I’m Kyle by the way. Kyle Boisfontaine.”

“Grey,” Grey answered shaking Kyle’s hand. “Grey Beulieu.”

“You a friend of Dylan’s?” Kyle asked.

Grey nodded but heavy footfalls on the stairs turned their attention elsewhere.

“Who did WHAT to Julianne?!” Dylan thundered from halfway down the stairs.

“Don’t ask Dylan.” Kyle said, exasperated. “If you want answers you talk to her.”

Dylan’s eyebrows scrunched together with curiosity. “Grey?” he asked.

“In the flesh.” Grey answered with a shrug.

“Do you two need a minute?” Kyle asked suspiciously.

“Two.” Dylan answered before Kyle left them alone.

“Look I know this is really short notice,” Grey apologized. “But I remember you telling me….”

“I didn’t think you’d go through with it.” Dylan cut in.

Grey bit his lower lip and nodded. He could feel himself beginning to shrink with shame. Maybe it had been better if he disappeared from Bayou St. Therese and never came back.

“Sybilla’s gonna wanna see you.” Dylan told him.

“I know.” Grey answered.

Dylan motioned for Grey to follow him to see Sybilla. He was more afraid than he had ever been in his short twenty one years of life. Being in the presence of one of the bayou’s most powerful voodoo priestesses was unnerving enough, but even so, Grey was at least grateful Dylan hadn’t turned him away.

“Go on in.” Dylan instructed as he parted the beaded curtain to Sybilla’s study.

The heavy smell of freshly burning incense made Grey’s eyes water and his throat itch. The sight of Sybilla seated on her throne terrified and awed him. Grey knew that in that moment he had entered the presence of the bayou’s queen.

“We’ve got a visitor Sybilla.” Dylan announced.

Sybilla eyed Grey with great curiosity, her cattish eyes narrowing and widening again as she observed every feature of his from his blue green eyes to his fair face and wiry thin figure.

“I’d like a word with our little friend here.” Sybilla told him. “I want you and Kyle both to stay in case anyone in the house gets around to askin questions.”

Kyle came in moments later and the two made themselves comfortable in a corner of the room while Grey stood before Sybilla, his limbs shaking as though they were made from gel instead of flesh and bone.

“Ya’ll want something to drink?” Sybilla asked. “Maybe a Coke? It’s a hot day and ya’ll must’ve had a long walk.”

“No….thank you though.” Grey said meekly, stiffening himself to keep his balance.

“Relax child I don’t bite none.” Sybilla assured him. “I know you ain’t here to cause trouble.”

Grey was pleasantly surprised. He had expected Sybilla to be cold and snappish like Sally, but she wasn’t at all. She was perfectly composed and easy to speak to.

“How do you know?” Grey asked.

“Trust me child I know.” Sybilla answered, her voice calm and serene like the river. “If you was here to cause trouble I’d have had these two throw you out before you could get in.”

Grey laughed a little before regaining his composure. “So I guess you know why I’m here?”

Sybilla nodded a firm yes, holding her proud head high before speaking once more. “Ya’ll are lookin for sanctuary against the bitch of Bayou St. Therese.” She answered. “That true?”

Grey nodded again, his head hanging shamefully and his eyes staring down at his boots. “I apologize for showing up on short notice.” He said meekly. “I didn’t mean to….”

Sybilla held up her hand in a way that told Grey to wait and be patient. “No need.” She said. “Ya’ll will have your place here with us and you’ll be given permanent sanctuary. But you will have duties that will be expected of you.”

“Yes ma’am.”

“And there will be plenty for you to study.” Added Sybilla. “Keep your mind sharp and learn as much as you can.”

“Yes ma’am.” Grey answered.

Sybilla narrowed her eyes again, sensing nervousness within him. She searched his soul and the rest of him for any hint of treachery but found nothing. “You sound nervous.” Sybilla remarked. “Ya’ll ain’t hidin anything are you? No drugs or nothing?”

“Oh no, no.” Grey interjected. “I’m not into drugs or anything…..but….I do have something I think you should look at.”

“Oh?”

Grey unzipped his backpack, rifling through his clothes and journal until he pulled the book from his bag and handed it to Sybilla. Her eyes grew wide with shock when she looked at its dusty surface embossed with the small image of a repentant angel gazing up toward the heavens.

“Where did you get this?” she asked, shocked by what Grey had just handed to her.

“I stole it from Sally’s library.” Grey replied. “I heard her bragging about how she stole it from you…..I thought you might want it back.”

“The Book of the Fallen Angels.” Sybilla said breathlessly. “How—how did you do it?”

Grey told her every detail of how he had managed to steal the book from Sally’s private study and get it out of the house without their noticing. Sybilla was impressed to say the least.

“Ya’ll go and put your stuff upstairs.” She instructed. “Your room will be at the very end of the upstairs hall.”

Grey thanked her before he left the room and hurried upstairs, leaving Sybilla alone with Dylan and Kyle.

“I think I know just what to do with that boy.” Sybilla announced to no one in particular.

“What?” Dylan and Kyle both asked.

“We use him as a sneak.” Sybilla told them. “Kid’s got some brass ones on him….stealin my book back like that.”

Dylan and Kyle didn’t say a word, but gave each other a mischievous look that said everything that needed to be said. Maybe Grey would be of use to them after all.