Elijah was sitting in his reserved booth at Jardin.
Elijah hadn’t expected the evening off. When Lucia had first sent him to Jardin, Elijah had a job. He wasn’t overly excited by the prospect of spending his whole evening tracking down some street dealer that couldn’t keep his hands out of the wrong fairy’s cookie jar, but Lucia had given Elijah worse jobs over the years.
Elijah had a booth that Arsene kept for him near the easternmost stairwell to Jardin‘s spiderweb of balconies. It provided Elijah with a comprehensive view of Jardin‘s dance floor. Elijah was wearing his sunglasses, and although he wasn’t blind as so many folks assumed, the sunglasses were for more than just show. White folks tended to react poorly to a black man with no eyes… just smoking, smoldering craters where his eyes used to be.
Continue reading “Chapter 7: Elijah’s Demons”
Virgil walked behind Arsene as they navigated a narrow set of stairs deep in the bowels of Jardin. Arsene had Robin slung over their shoulders, who had passed out seconds after returning from the veil.
Virgil wasn’t entirely sure how she and Arsene were still inside of Jardin. The building took up a corner of a dockside block on the Strip and was only three stories tall, but Virgil felt like she and Arsene had walked enough corridors to be Downtown by now and that was without wondering how exactly these stairs seemed to still be going up.
Virgil was pretty sure she saw a door and lights off in the distance. Virgil couldn’t figure out what were the color of the lights that were peeking out of the cracks of the unreachable portal. The lights always seemed to change just when Virgil thought she caught a glint of red or purple or orange.
Virgil hadn’t had a clear idea of where exactly she planned on taking Robin after she broke Todd’s wrist, but Virgil wanted to be well clear of the Strip before cops showed up. Arsene had assured her the pigs wouldn’t be a problem.
“Don’t you worry your head, little ghost. You and your friend are in no danger here.” Virgil could not place Arsene’s accent although she was fairly certain it wasn’t French or Laotian.
Arsene had walked towards Robin and Virgil slowly and with their hands up and then picked Robin up like she was a sleeping kitten and gently laid her over their shoulders. Arsene was still in their mod girl outfit. Arsene’s face was lined and their hair was starting to gray, but their tan, muscular shoulders carried Robin without noticeable burden.
Arsene didn’t even wrinkle their dress.
Continue reading “Promises Made”