When Worlds Collide
7
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When World Collide Chapter Seven (NC-17)
Disclaimers Apply
A/N Goddess Foxfeather needs a nap!
Readers/Reviewers: I promise I
didn’t forget! *kicks RL *
Belladonna
ached in places she was not previously aware she had. She inhaled, trying to fill her lungs, but choked on the
sickeningly sweet stench of decaying flesh.
She gagged and rolled onto one side, dry heaving and wishing that she
had eaten something earlier so she would have something to throw up rather than
painful stomach cramps. “Kill me now,
God,” she groaned under her breath, taking shallow gasps to avoid as much of
the noxious odor as possible.
“Anyone
ever tell you that you’re sexy?” Bobby responded, his voice muffled.
Belladonna
rolled onto her back and opened one eye, frowning. “Shut up.”
Bobby
grinned behind his shirt, pulled up over his mouth and nose.
“You don’t
know?”
“No watch,”
he shrugged, reaching out to help her to her feet only to have her bat his hand
away. “I think we’re in a crypt.”
“Impossible,”
she snapped, regretting it instantly as her stomach roiled.
burials like this.”
“Pull your
shirt up.”
“Excuse me?”
“Like
me. It helps keep the smell down.”
“You look
stupid.”
“Says the
woman who just failed a Technicolor yawn.”
“Fine.”
and pulled the collar up to cover her mouth and nose. “My shirt smells like death!” she moaned after an experimental inhalation.
“But not a
lot of Death,” he pointed out. “Come on.
“A
hall? How big is this place?” she asked
in low tones, wondering if they were truly alone.
“Bigger
than you think…” Bobby produced a
lighter from his pocket and flicked the wheel.
The flickering glow showed the crypt, for that was indeed what it was,
to be large enough so that Belladonna could not make out the fourth wall.
“How do you
figure?” she murmured, following his will-o’the-whisp.
“Look up…”
She
followed the raised flame and gasped.
The ceiling was much lower than she had expected, barely six inches
above Bobby’s head and made of a rough-looking stone. “Is that…marble?”
“Unfinished,”
Bobby agreed. “Like the underside of a
floor. Look…” He took her hand and held firm as she tried to pull away.
She let him
run her finger along what appeared to be a seam between stones.
“Wait for
it…” Using her finger, he traced the
outline of a large square, three feet by three feet, before dropping her
hand. “It’s a floor tile.”
“I don’t
think,” she said after a pause, “you can call that a tile.”
“Whatever
it is, we’re under something!” he replied, on the verge of snapping.
“I wish you’d
quit ordering me around,” she grumbled.
“You have no idea what we’re dealing with.”
Bobby
stopped in his tracks, his back to Belladonna, and inhaled noisily.
The flame on is Zippo winkut.
“Hey!”
the chest and she caught it as it bounced off.
“You lead
the way, genius.” His voice was no
closer than it had been a moment previous but she had the distinct feeling he
was only inches away.
“Bobby,
quit being a dick!” She fumbled with
the lighter and flipped the flame into being.
“Bobby?” The space before her
was empty of his person so she turned a slow circle. “Bobby, this ain’t funny…”
Her voice had taken on a shaky quality, echoing off the stone ceiling
and walls. “Damn it all, Bobby!
“Afraid he
ain’t hearin’ ya…”
Belladonna
screamed and dropped the lighter. She
felt it bounce off her boot and heard it skitter across the floor of the crypt
before she could regain her cool. “I
apologize for trespassing,” she began, only to be cut off.
“Chere, no
apologies, d’accord?” The man’s face
appeared in a flicker of light. He was
holding Bobby’s lighter and smiling kindly.
“You alone, belle dame?”
“I got lost
with my friend,” she improvised, breathing shallow once again as she tried to
look like she was not choking on the stench.
“Officer,” she added belated, seeing the badge on his uniform.
“Dere ain’t
no one down here,” he crooned, leaning closer.
“You all alone, chere…”
Belladonna
frowned. “Pardon me.
foreign.
“I’m tinkin’
you be stayin’,” he said firmly, slipping into a pure Creole roll.
“I don’t
know you.”
“Ti Jean Quinto
he grinned.
“Ti…” She paled,
recognizing the name. “Back away.”
“Child, you
ain’t no houngantitle="">[3].You got no
control o’er me.”
“Where’s
Bobby?” she demanded, stepping back only to run into an oven burial, the bones
jabbing sharply into her back.
“Where you
goin’, he can’t be…”
“Kitty
kitty kitty!” Leaning on her crutches,
Kitty tried to beckon the black cat to her.
Kurt had been in the tiny shop for almost half an hour and she was
getting bored beyond belief. Kitty was almost ready to agree to going back to
the house and waiting, so long as she did not have to sit on the damp bench any
longer. “C’mere puss…”
The black
cat glared at her with yellow eyes and hissed before trotting closer.
“There’s a
kitty,” she crooned, reaching down carefully.
“Come on…” Her fingertips
brushed the cat’s nose, bringing a smile to her face as the hissing ceased and
became purring. “You’re just a sweet
kitty, aren’t you?”
“Baka, he
got some issues,” a rich voiced laughed near her ear.
Kitty
nearly fell over as she tried to straighten, rocking back into the ample bosom
of an ageless, olive skinned woman. “I’m
sorry,” she gasped.
“My fault…I
should be knownin’ better than to be scarin’ you, Kitty.”
“How…my
name…” Her eyes drifted to the store,
where she could still see Kurt standing at the counter.
“Maman
Brigitte, she know lotta things.” The
woman smiled and crooked her finger. “Baka
find you, so I come get you.”
name="_ftn1" title="">[1] Folktale related
to Jack O’lantern. A will-o’the wisp is
a ball of light or flame that tries to lead you off to your death, usually in a
moor or swamp.
name="_ftn2" title="">[2] A very
insolent loa who takes the form of a guard or policeman and lives under bridges
name="_ftn3" title="">[3] A voudou
priest or priestess. Very powerful and
the only one able to summon the loas and guedes