She sat by her mother, as she had been for most of the night, her cold hand wrapped around Andrea's, fresh from a dream where her mother was the opposite of how she was now. Fine and smiling and laughing and alive.
She IS alive, Andrea thought, appalled at even having to reinforce that thought in her own mind. The EMTs who had shown up at the scene had asked her a few questions and were kind enough to take her babbling and stuttering nonsense as a young child, being far too concerned with their mother to try and answer questions. The doctors had done all that they could, and seemed satisfied with their work, estimating that her mother should be fully conscious again within the next twelve hours. That had been nine hours ago, and Andrea was terrified that each hour gone was a clear indication that the doctors had been wrong, that their modern science and medicine was way too out of its depth, and they did not even know it yet.
"Don't worry, girl." A man's voice startled her and pulled her eyes away from her mother, "Your mama's as beautiful as she is strong." His accent was that of one someone from deep within Louisiana, which was the first thing that hit you. But it had an after taste to it, like he was an immigrant who spent some years at home before living out the rest of his childhood here, "Thank you." She finally replied, once her eyes had finally had enough of taking in what he was wearing. He was tall, extremely tall, his bald head almost touching the doorframe. He was lanky too, not quite skinny or thin though, but enough to give his appearance a long and foreboding element to it, like he could reach you no matter how fast you ran. Covering this long body was a mustard-colored wool suit, with a dark brown shirt underneath a black colored tie. On his long feet were black formal pointed shoes, they looked cheap and made of plastic and shone in the light.
His face was angular, sharp, and well molded. Sharp cheekbones that looked fine enough to cut diamonds, and an even sharper chin beneath them. His eyes were blacker than any other black that she had ever seen, with a gleam over them that made them twinkle too. His full lips were parted in a smile that had rows of big and white teeth showing, twinkling in tandem with the large orbs in his head, "Forgive me, Child. My name needs givin', and give it I shall." He had a singing tune to his voice that fit well with his accent, "My naaaame's Arruman Nancy, you may call it a pleasure, an honor, a joy!"
Andrea nodded her head, standing protectively near her mother, "Andrea Bordeaux, call it whatever you'd like."
Mr Nancy's smile turned into a grin that went ear-to-ear, and Andrea did not mean that figuratively, "Mmmh! This guard dog might be the best kinda guard dog! It barks! It bites! But can it fight?"
Andrea was in no mood for any games, "What do you want, Mister?"
He took a step into the room, a walking stick in his right hand; it covered by fingers with rings attached to a wrist choked by a cheap looking golden watch, "To check in on your mama, Child."
"Andrea."
"I heard you the first time." He winked, taking several more steps towards them, quick little scurrying steps that confused Andrea to no end.
"Your mama and I are friends; we go way back. Stop! Take what you're thinkin', and it's still backer than that!" He laughed with himself before frowning at her, "What? You don't think Mr. Nancy's funny, huh?"
Andrea would not have had the patience for this at the best of times, "You'll have to forgive me, Mr. Nancy. But as you can see, laughing is the last thing on my goddamn mind."
He followed her gaze to her mother and shook his head, "Oh…. Yes, that." He finally decided to enter for good, this time taking long strides to sit himself down on the other chair across the room near the bathroom door, "Did your mama ever tell you 'bout how your family got its last name?"
She looked up at him, no doubt her dark brown eyes surrounded by bags and her black hair in an absolute mess, "No."
He straightened his long legs out, crossing them at the ankle, "A good tale, a Mr. Nancy certified classic! But steady on, steady on, Andy Baby. Nancy gotta get himself right." He pulled out something from his pocket, a cigar in his hand, "Want some?"
Andrea scowled, "No smoking allowed in here."
Mr Nancy exaggerated a shrug, "I know the rules! You take my breakin' 'em for confusion, but it's just because, I. Don't. Give. A Fuck." He laughed to himself and sat back into his chair, pulling out a long match and striking it on the floor to ignite it before pulling it up to his cigar.
Thankfully, a nurse walked in to check on her mother's drip, giving Andrea a kind smile but never once saying anything to Mr Nancy.
"Uhmm…. I told him he can't smoke in here." Andrea said, trying to get the nurse to chase him out, but she turned around and looked around the room in confusion, "What, dear?"
She gestured towards Mr Nancy's spot on the chair, but the woman did not seem to see anything "Is there something wrong in the bathroom?"
Mr Nancy started to laugh and stuck his tongue out at her, watching the nurse leave the room after Andrea had to shake her head.
"When Arruman said that thing 'bout being your mama's friend, your dumb, black ass should've understood what kinda friend."
Andrea put her head in her hands and groaned, "Oh my God no…. why won't this day just come to an end…."
"Ay!" Mr Nancy clicked his fingers to get her to look at him, "Now now, none of that. Mr Nancy asked you a question."
She rolled her eyes at him, "I thought you meant one of her friends from work."
Mr Nancy choked on a drag of smoke as he laughed, "Bitch! Do I look like a lawyer to you?"
Andrea growled, "Call me bitch again, and I'm gonna need one!"
"Bite! Bark!" He snapped his fingers and made a spear appear in his hand, throwing it so hard that Andrea felt it fly by more than saw it, pinning itself in the wall right between her left ear and the window frame, "But. Can. She. Fight?"
"That better not cost us." That was all she could say, lest she started crying again. He nodded his head in agreement, "Damn straight. If I'd been you and saw how much that ambulance and this room cost, I'd have fetched me a wheelbarrow and thrown your mama's body in it and boomed it like the Roadrunner. A bit of exercise ain't never hurt nobody."
He took a long drag and exhaled a puff of smoke above his head, "Well, 'cept for the people that it has. But fuck 'em…"
"Tell me the story and then get the fuck out, Arruman."
He clapped his hands together and did a little dance in the chair, "Oh right! Oh yes! Look at you, focused on what matters, five points to Bordeaux." He then glanced at her mother and the smile on his face grew, "But ten points to Mr. Nancy. Tell me, littlest Bordeaux, what do you know 'bout Eduoard Jean-Philippe?"
Andrea sat back into her chair, the exhaustion of the day made sleep tempting, but her mother should be waking up within the next two-and-a-half hours, and she wanted to be there to greet her, "Less than nothing, why?"
Mr. Nancy shook his head, "Tsk, tsk, tsk. He is your mama's mama's daddy's daddy's…. I lost track, but he's the start of the line of Bordeaux."
Her eyes closed involuntarily, she would allow them to, but she kept her wits about herself, "Uh-huh…."
"Now, Mister Jean-Philippe was the fastest runnin' slave this side of the Mississippi! Damn could that boy gun it when he needed to! But soon enough, he'd won his freedom too. Clever boy that one was, lil bit of a mouth on him, but his master, Herri Philippe, loved that light skinneded lil boy…. A lil too much, some might say, make of that what you will."
Andrea hated to admit, but his soothing voice was doing enough to put her at ease, but his words were interesting enough to keep back any idea of falling asleep, "Eduoard was his son."
"The bastard had himself a lil bastard, conjugal visits to the slave house bore itself a receipt. It was an open secret, so the mistress of the house had to swallow them insults day in and day out, watchin' 'Mastah' play with and educate lil Ed. Treatin' him like he was people! Can you believe it? The fuckin' audacity. Til one day, she had had enough."
His form shimmered in the smoke, seeming longer and more terrifying before the grey cloud dissipated and he looked like his regular self, "Mrs Marie-Jeanne Blois-Philippe was from a proud and minor noble family, old as all sin. They traced their lineage as far back as the French war of religion, accordin' to them. Now, they must've been dumb as bricks cause there were like…. A hundred French wars of religion, but never you mind that." He took another puff, and through the smoke, he somehow appeared standing next to Andrea. She was startled and nearly fell out of her seat, "How are you doing that?"
He pressed a long and slender finger against his lips, "Story time, Andrea. So, what did Mrs. Philippe do? Hint hint, if you guess set him up to be lynched, you get three cookies."
"But…. You didn't say anything in Latin…"
"Our boy Eduoard, freed yes, was still sent 'round as a messenger boy. Runnin' even to other towns sometimes. So Mrs. Philippe put out word that a runaway slave of Eduoard's description was 'round the area, then sent him to a plantation near the town of Bordeaux. He went, like the good lil boy that he was, and learnt the hard way that there ain't no real freedom if it must be given."
The gleam and joy in Arruman's eyes were gone now, replaced by a hard and dark stare that made Andrea uncomfortable to look at.
"So…. That thing that happened to Jeremiah Rigs…"
"Uh-huh." Mr. Nancy muttered, leaning against the wall with his hands in his pockets, "In the last moments of his coon-lived life, Eduoard did the only good thing he'd ever done and made a pact. He'd learned 'bout Christian God and his benevolent ways from his daddy, but Eduoard's prayers weren't doin' a goddamn thing to get the noose off. So, in a fit of the sort of rage that some beings gravitate towards, he turned to his mama's gods…. Made a deal with one of 'em, a trickster who may have or may not've been on Mrs. Philippe's shoulder to begin with…"
Andrea snorted despite herself, "A. Nancy, hah. A little obvious, don't you think?"
He shrugged, his eyes still having that soul-glaring look to them, "People don't know what to look for to begin with. Ain't so obvious in a world with monolithic Gods, Andrea Bordeaux." The Louisianan was beginning to fade from his words, "I'm here for your mother, Andrea."
She stood up quickly and blocked her mother from him, "Go fuck yourself."
He had a sad smile on his face and shook his head, "Relax, child. I don't mean I'm here to take her now. There's no need for it. The Court of Bordeaux was used, and the price knowingly paid."
"And what was the price?" Andrea's heart began to beat quickly, the sense of guilt coming back heavier than before, "Tell me, Anansi! What price?!"
"Somnum faciente…." He whispered, and Andrea felt her knees buckle as she stumbled into her chair, her eyelids becoming overwhelmingly heavy.
Andrea grit her teeth, to the point of almost cracking them as she fought back the need to sleep, "Anansi…."
He sighed, "I used to be stronger than this, you know? Didn't even have to spit a word to get people to sleep."
"Why…. Why?" Andrea's eyes shut, and the darkness was beginning to set in.
"Eduoard the coon, hah! I'm glad I did what I did. Lived his whole life free, eating nice and having to work a third as hard, meanwhile his own half-brothers and sisters toiled away in the fields, none of 'em lived past forty-five! But you get a better grasp of someone when you put 'em in a bad way, Andy Baby. And true to form the coon died as he lived, selfishly! I offered him vengeance, and in exchange, he bound all his kin to his soul, his animus. So that any who use it have their souls bound to it in turn, and in essence, to me. He did it without a second thought…."
Andrea realized what he meant and forced her eyes open, spittle frothing out her mouth as she collapsed to the floor, grabbing his ankle, "I-I… I'll…. Kill… you…"
He lightly removed her hand from his ankle, and she could feel his smile on her again, "She barks, she bites…. And yes, she fights."
The darkness was beginning to set in once more as she heard the sound of Anansi's shoes stamping into the tiled floors, her consciousness going in and out as she looked at him leaning over and whispering into her mother's ear. Andrea could've sworn she heard someone scream before she went unconscious.
"Andy Baby," she heard her mother's voice tug at her, grabbing hold and trying to yank her out of the darkness that had drowned her, "Andrea…"
"Wake up." She was pulled out and forced awake, looking up at her mother's pale visage, a weak smile played out over her face.
"Momma…" she whispered, tears flowing down her cheeks as she wrapped her arms around the woman who was the sun of her solar system, holding on as tight as possible without hurting her, "I thought that Anansi was going to take you."
She snorted, "That ole crack head? Nah-uh not a chance, Andy Baby."
Andrea looked up at her mother again, "But he said…. Eduoard's deal…. The Court of Bordeaux…"
Her mother exhaled, and the act seemed to put even more years on her, "Anansi's mouth is too damn big for his own good."
"Momma." Andrea said sternly, "No more putting this thing off. Is Anansi taking you or not?"
Antonina Bordeaux seemed to stare off in place for a moment, once a doting single-mother and respected attorney, now, now she was some magic using witch sworn to an old West African God, "Yes. But not until after I die."
As morbid as that sounded, Andrea was overjoyed, her hug tightening around her mother, "Good! We'll just make sure that isn't for a long time. Wait, what do you mean after you die?"
"You were there, Andrea. Where do you think we went to when I had that man lynched and burned?"
She looked up at her mother's-tired face, her expression blank and impossible to read, "Inside…. Your soul?"
She nodded her head, "Well, in a manner of speaking, yes baby. We all have souls, connected to the Source." Her mother's face churned up the effort to smile, "Very funny, using an essay as an excuse to try and put me in a corner. Clever girl."
And as soon as it appeared, the smile dissipated, "Some become potent enough to use the energies from the source. Others are only touched by it, enough to maybe sort of see things beyond comprehension, but never quite enough to completely understand it. Most of those people go insane and are thrown in mental hospitals."
Andrea remembered what Rigs had said about her soul, "But… am I touched?"
Her mother shook her head, "Doubt it, Andy Baby. Your blood comes from powerful magic; it would be a one-in-a-million that you not be potent. Besides, Anansi wouldn't have bothered talking to you if you were.""
"You know about that?"
Her mother nodded her head, "The man wouldn't shut up about you. We had a conversation, just to reaffirm Eduoard's deal. Once I die, my soul will go to Court, with the rest of our line who suffered due to Eduoard's foolishness."
Andrea finally sat up, "Is that where my soul will go?"
She felt her mother's hand weakly play with her hair, "No, Andy Baby. Your soul will go to the afterlife, where you'll spend eternity in a heaven made just for you. Only those who use the power must pay the price. I wouldn't have dared to have a child, perfect as you are, if all Bordeaux's were to be forced to attend Anansi's Court. And the threat of it is why I didn't tell you about magic to begin with."
"What can we do to stop this?" she snapped, angered by her mother's nonchalance to all of this, "Anansi can't keep getting away with this!"
"The court is almost 275 years old," a voice by the door said, "If your mother or any of her predecessors had an idea of how to stop it, they most likely would have by now." said the voice, his arms folded over his chest. His expression was absent of any of the kindness or warmth she was used to from him, for it was only a hard and blank stare that greeted them now, "Was he really all that, Bordeaux, that you had to resort to using the Court?" said Julian Nerva.