Chapter One:

The little kid sneezed when he pulled the trigger. That was his only major mistake because everything else was a perfect setup for putting Kodi underground. The kid couldn't have missed from ten feet away, and was packing a piece of serious steel, an ancient Army .45 that looked as big as a cannon clutched in his small, sweaty hands. The gun's muzzle-blast could have wakened the dead in the narrow confines of the alley.

But, Kodi had noticed four other boys who were hanging out across the street, their backs to a wall in the blazing sunlight. That wasn't normal in New Orleans, and Kodi's brain had buzzed a warning before he really had time to think.

The oldest of the other boys looked around fourteen, while the youngest might have been twelve. There hadn't been much to catch Kodi's eye; they looked like most of the many street kids who cruised the French Quarter day and night, selling beads and voodoo charms or dancing for the tourists. All were clad in jeans and sneaks, the jeans clinging dangerously low on their hips, their boxers almost transparent with sweat, and their shirtless bodies gleaming bright like polished African idols. But, Ursulines Avenue was usually quiet, not many tourists traveled the street; and kids with nothing else to do mostly hung out in front of bars or little corner markets. These dudes weren't packing voodoo dolls or toting any dancing shoes, but all were wearing black bandannas, and something was wrong with that picture.

Then the little kid sneezed.

Kodi leaped back as the shot roared out, slamming into his cousin Raney who walked a pace behind him, but the bullet ripped through Kodi's arm instead of drilling his heart.

The other boys vanished like ghosts in a swamp on a misty night, not quite dematerializing but dashing off in four directions and disappearing just as fast. This left the pint-sized hit-man alone. The courtyard gate was locked behind him -- iron bars with spikes on top -- and the alley was only four feet wide, so Kodi and Raney were blocking escape. The .45's kick had surprised the kid, especially since he'd held the gun in that showtime sideways "gangsta grip." He also looked a little confused when Kodi didn't bite the dust; while Raney, Kodi's bayou cousin, definitely wasn't the kind of dude you got to target twice.

Raney didn't know much about gang-banger games, but he must have known he couldn't run or the kid would have capped his back. To Kodi, that was obvious: they had to take the punk! He didn't stop to look at his arm, but charged the wide-eyed little boy before he could fire again. Raney followed close behind, roaring like an alligator.

This overloaded the little kid's brain... people usually ran away from small black boys with big nasty guns! He dropped the piece and spun around, trying to make a bust for the gate and scale it like a spider. That wouldn't have done him any good; even if he'd cleared the spikes without getting sliced like 'gator bait, he would have been trapped in the courtyard. Kodi caught the little dude's jeans and yanked him back to earth.

The kid was shirtless, chocolate-brown, and maybe eight-years-old. His jeans had tumbled around his knees, which made it pretty hard to fight. He was slick as slime with smelly sweat, punching, kicking, trying to bite, squalling, cursing, scratching Kodi with fingernails like weapons; but Raney grabbed him around the neck and slammed him against the wall.

Like Kodi, Raney was only fourteen but made of solid muscle. His chest jutted out like a pair of bricks, his biceps bulged like river rocks, and his stomach was armored by ripples of stone. He wasn't any taller than Kodi, but fighting him was like fighting a tank. Even the little kid wasn't that stupid and went as limp as laundry. He suddenly burst into buckets of tears as Kodi snatched the smoking gun and jammed it to his forehead.

"The hell is this shit?" Kodi yelled.

"Yeah!" bawled Raney, clutching the kid by his slender throat so it looked as if he was wringing the neck of a squirming chocolate chicken. The boy's old sneakers kicked the air a foot above the cobblestones, while his jeans slipped down his shins. He wasn't wearing any shorts, but there wasn't much to see. His bushy hair was partly tamed by a black bandanna handkerchief, the same as the other kids had worn.

Raney glanced at Kodi, ignoring the little kid's struggles. "You all right, cousin?"

Kodi paused to check his arm: it was leaking blood, but didn't hurt much and seemed to be working okay. Kodi was a chubby boy with bobby breasts as round as melons and more soft rolls than a French bakery; and the bullet had missed his biceps muscle, cutting clean through the padding of fat that bulked his upper arms. "I guess so," he puffed, shaking sweat from his eyes.

"I seen a lot more blood," said Raney. "I stabbed myself with a 'gator gaff a couple years ago."

The little kid could barely breathe. His black-coffee eyes rolled back in his head as Raney's fingers throttled his throat. He managed to make a death-rattle sound.

"Chill out, Raney," Kodi panted. "We don't wanna give him a dirt-nap." He shifted the gun between the kid's eyes. "Not yet, anyway."

"Please!" the kid rasped, fighting for air. "Don't hurt me, man!"

"Hurt you!" roared Raney. "You try an' cap my cousin's ass, you dirty little weasel!" He cocked his free hand into a fist that resembled a five-fingered hammer.

"I had to!" gurgled the kid.

"The hell you sayin'?" Kodi demanded.

"Hold up, man," said Raney. "We can't stay here an' work this out. Somebody might've heard the shot an' maybe called the cops."

Kodi nodded, trying to think. On a sultry day in early June this part of the Quarter was deathly still. There was only the humming of air-conditioners up in windows overhead. His arm was beginning to throb with pain, and blood was still dribbling out.

Raney, like Kodi, wore jeans and sneaks, and nothing else but sweat. His face, like his body, seemed chiseled from stone with a solid square jaw and high cheekbones, yet he seldom wore a stony expression, or never for very long. He scanned the shadowy alley, which led to the little courtyard. The liquid music of trickling water echoed between the ancient brick walls. He turned to face the sunlit street and squinted in the glare. "Y'all think his friends be comin' back?"

"Probably not," said Kodi. "If they'd been packin', we'd both be ghosts."

Raney snorted. "I hate this stupid thugger shit! It never make no sense to me!” He shifted his eyes to the kid again. "So, what we gonna do with him? I feed him to my 'gator, you want?"

"No!" cried the kid.

"Shut up!" bellowed Kodi, surprised at his rage despite that fact this kid had tried to kill him. He was starting to feel sort of dizzy and weak. Maybe it was only from loss of blood, or it might have been the smothering heat, especially here in the narrow alley which felt like an oven tomb. He wiped more sweat from his face. "Aunt Simone won't be back till dark when it's time for the ceremony. I guess we better take him inside." He met the kid's eyes along the gun barrel. "You mess with me an' it's coffin-city! You hearin' me, little punk?"

"Yeah," sobbed the kid, trying to nod, which wasn't the easiest thing to do with Raney wringing his neck.

Kodi passed the gun to Raney, then dug a key from his sagger's pocket and unlocked the tall iron gate, pushing it open on hinges that creaked like horror movie sound-effects. Like Raney, Kodi was panther-black with a bushy mop of sooty curls and eyes like shiny obsidian. His face was round and chipmunk-cheeked with a wide and snubby bridgeless nose. Like most extremely chubby boys his belly hung low and happily free to bob and jiggle like Jell-o. His jeans rode way below his hips, more than half baring a plump round bottom that looked like two dark moons colliding, and only a chrome-studded black leather belt kept them somewhere above his knees. He yanked them up an inch or two, then stepped aside for Raney.

Raney gave the kid a shove that launched him like a rocket, and Kodi added a kick to his butt to boost him into orbit. But the kid fell flat on his face and sneezed. Kodi grabbed the back of his jeans and jerked him to his feet. "Get movin'!"

Like many French Quarter houses, the one belonging to Kodi's aunt was a narrow two stories tall. It showed its shuttered behind to the street, while its real front faced the quiet courtyard, a forest of ferns and steamy foliage that looked like a tropical jungle. A mossy old fountain was brimming with lilies, and water poured out of a lion's mouth, big and bronze but green with age. The paving stones were buried in weeds; and there was a wooden table and chairs where Voodu rites were held.

The gate clanked shut behind Raney's back with a death-row kind of sound. Kodi pushed the little kid, who stumbled across the weedy stones with his jeans cuffs dragging over his sneaks and his small brown bottom totally bare. Kodi yanked open a rusty screen door and kicked the kid into a dark little foyer below a narrow staircase.

The ancient house smelled musty and damp, of rotten old wood and crumbling brick, but that was normal in the Quarter. The little kid was sobbing again. His jeans had puddled around his ankles, the black bandanna slipped over one eye, and his tattered sneaks were both untied. His tight little chest was well-defined, though like most young kids his tummy stuck out and his posture was sloppily sway-backed. But, he didn't seem to have missed any meals and his belly jutted so comically round it looked like he'd swallowed a basketball. He started to pull up his pants again, but Kodi grabbed his hair.

"Leave 'em down so you can't try an' kick us."

"How I get up them stairs?" the kid sniffled.

Kodi gave him another shove that plopped him at the foot of the staircase. "Crawl, shithead! Like a coffin worm! You just might need the practice!"

Chapter Two:

Kodi's room was a spook-house. The walls were paneled in worm-eaten oak, as black as death after two-hundred years, and wooden lathing showed on the ceiling where plaster had fallen long ago. Two tall windows faced the street and opened onto a gallery that overhung the sidewalk. Heavy curtains of dusty green made the gloomy room look cool, though that was just an illusion. There was a rusty air-conditioner, but using it was a luxury reserved for Kodi didn't know what. His aunt often joked that the house owned her instead of the other way around. Naturally, it was haunted, but most houses were in the Quarter.

The room was almost filled by a bed, a massive old mahogany thing. Its headboard was carved with an eerie scene of ghoulish grave-robbers at work in the night, while its four tall posts were topped with skulls that grinned a toothy welcome. Marie Laveau, the Voodu Queen, had supposedly had it built. An ancient clothes-press stood in a corner, looming like a monster's coffin, and there was an ebony chest of drawers with a murky mirror above it. Faces and things would appear in the glass at unexpected moments. Kodi preferred the faces to things, even if they were only bone. Cobwebs clung in shadowy corners and draped the blades of a ceiling fan with silver threads of spider silk. The fan was turning slowly now, trailing its spectral streamers around, stirring the heat like a witch's brew, and all three boys were shiny with sweat.

The gun muzzle pressed to the little boy's back, Kodi prodded him into the room. The kid waddled comically like a duck with his jeans still dragging over his sneaks, his basketball belly leading the way. Then, using the strap from his overnight bag, Kodi tied the boy's hands behind his back and then to a skeletal bedpost.

Raney had raided his aunt's sewing box to make a bandage for Kodi's arm, He cleaned the wound with alcohol from the bathroom medicine cabinet, then expertly bound it up. The bleeding had just about stopped by now; and Raney went out to the kitchen fridge to snag a forty-ounce.

"Here, cousin," he offered, returning. "Good ol' snake-bite remedy."

"Thanks," said Kodi and took a long swig.

Raney sat down in an antique chair like a muscular African boy-god, and mopped his face with the back of a hand. "Whew!" he panted. "I had enough action for one day, cousin! So, what we do for a love scene?"

Ignoring the boy, who stood tied to the bed, Kodi went to a gallery window, staying warily off to one side, and parted the drapes to scan the street. A few people passed on the opposite sidewalk, mostly tourists packing cameras and searching for the "real" New Orleans of vampires, voodoo, and various ghosts, but there was no trace of the four thugger boys. A middle-aged white couple stood in their place, probably reading the sign at the alley which advertised the Voodu rites, offered tours of the haunted house, and boasted of Kodi's creepy old bed.

"Ain't sure," said Kodi, closing the curtains. "Nobody tried to kill me before." He fingered the gun, which felt hot in his hand but also somehow comforting. He checked the clip, finding five bullets left. "Well?" he demanded, facing the sniffling, pot-bellied kid. "Why you try an' cap me, fool?"

For a moment the little boy tried to come bad, which wasn't an easy part to play: for one thing he was kind of cute with a button-nosed, V-jawed, impish face and his big wild bush of nappy hair, while the black bandanna still over one eye didn't back up his gangster lean. He'd been watching the older boys swigging malt and had wistfully licked his lips several times, while trickles of sweat ran down his cheeks to spatter his spherical stomach.

"Ain't tellin' you nothin', nigga!" he spat.

Raney sighed and rolled his eyes. "If I gotta get outta this chair..." he warned.

Kodi took a direct approach, jamming the gun to the kid's sweaty chest about where he figured a heart would be, an inch from the bud of a nipple. "Don't dance with me, boy! My name ain't Barney!"

"Okay!" cried the kid, almost sobbing again. "It was nothin' personal, man!"

"What?" yelled Kodi. He jabbed the gun muzzle tighter. "The hell you tellin' me, nigger?"

Raney raised an eyebrow at this. The kid began to cry again and blubbered out, "I wanted to join the Skeleton Crew, an' they tole me I gotta cap somebody."

For a moment Kodi almost felt sick, like a bony claw had clutched his stomach. Maybe it was only the heat, so deadly and different from Cleveland, Ohio? It might have been from the blood he'd lost, or the pulsing pain in his wounded arm. But no, he thought, it was worse than that... it was knowing he'd just been a random mark for this baby-banger's initiation!

"It coulda been anybody," added the kid, confirming Kodi's suspicion.

Kodi almost pulled the trigger! For a second he really wanted to! Something seemed to laugh in his mind... fourteen years of hopes and dreams, of staying in school, maintaining his grades, and trying like hell to be "good" somehow; and this snotnose -- nigger -- had tried to kill him just because he'd turned a corner!

"It coulda been him," the kid went on, jerking his jaw at Raney. "They tole me to cap the first mark I seen. 'Less they was ol' or white."

"What the hell difference that make?" growled Raney.

"Ol' people don't count, an' cappin' a whiteboy is trouble."

Raney shook his head. "I hate this thugger shit, man!"

"You said that already," said Kodi.

"Can I have a drink?" asked the kid. He looked down at the big black gun to his heart. "I sorry, okay?" he added, then sneezed.

"Bless... Shit!" muttered Kodi. "'You're 'sorry'!" He lowered the gun, not trusting himself, and took his finger off the trigger. "I feel like throwin' up."

"You an' me both," agreed Raney. "But I don't wanna waste a good lunch."

Kodi snagged the forty-ounce bottle and tilted it up to the little kid's lips. The boy gulped fast and sloppily, dripping amber foam on his chest, which ran down his tummy to drip on the floor.

"Thanks," he finally panted, with a half the bottle inside his belly and more than a little all over it. But then a new look crossed his face, of sudden and total terror. "Oh, shit!" he cried, and more tears fell. "Now they gonna kill me!"

"What you takin' about?" asked Raney.

The kid began to cry again. "I ain't worthy!" He stared around in wide-eyed horror, as if a ghost had materialized and rattled its mouldering bones in his face. "An' I lost his gun!"

Kodi glanced down at the old .45. "Your 'role-model's' piece?" he asked. "That big bad boy who bailed his butt when you couldn't manage to drop me?"

Raney made a disgusted sound. "Kids really that stupid 'round here?"

"They do it in Cleveland, too," said Kodi. "Why dad send me down here every summer." He almost laughed. "He thinks I'm safer in 'Nawlins."

"I can't go home!" cried the kid. "Them dudes be waitin' for me!"

"The hell!" roared Raney. "You think we was just gonna let you go home like you spit on us or somethin'?"

"But I can't go home!" howled the kid.

Kodi studied the blubbering boy: his tears looked totally on the real, but nigger-babies lied so much they half believed they were telling the truth. He tossed the gun to Raney, then roughly untied the kid.

"What you doin'?" asked the boy.

"Turnin' you loose, the hell you think? Just lookin' at you make me 'shamed to be black. My grandfather was a Panther. ...You probably never heard of them. At least he was fightin' for somethin' good. To help his people. But now what we got? Rag-ass gang-bangin' babies like you who shoot your own brothers for nothin'!"

"Hey!" said Raney, sitting up straight. "You can't turn him loose!"

"Looks like I'm doin' it, don't it?"

"No!" cried the kid. "You can't!"

"Pull up your Pampers an' get the hell out before I do somethin' to get me cursed!"

"No, man! I can't! Them niggas be waitin'!"

Kodi suddenly grabbed the kid and shoved him to one of the windows. Then he parted the dusty drapes.

"No!" the kid pleaded, squirming to get away from the glass.

"Go out on the gallery!" Kodi ordered. "Put on a thug-o-rama show!"

The kid wiggled free of Kodi's grasp, then fell to his knees at Kodi's feet. "Please!" he sobbed. "Don't make me go out there!"

Kodi snatched the luggage strap. For a moment he raised it like a whip above the smaller boy's naked back. "Go on, nigger! Show everybody how bad you are!"

Raney frowned. "We could do with a little less 'nigger,' cuz. My daddy'd wash out my mouth if I said it."

"Well he is!" bawled Kodi.

"No! Please!" cried the kid, clutching his arms around Kodi's legs.

"I thought you lost 'his gun'" snorted Kodi. "So, what you worried about?"

The kid peered up from below Kodi's belly. "He gots another one, man!"

"So, why didn't he finish what you tried to start?"

"He had to buy some bullets today."

"Mmm," said Raney thoughtfully. "I think he be on the real." He flipped the .45 in his palm, then took another drink. "What if we give this back to you?"

The kid kept on crying. "Then I gotta cap somebody else."

"So what's the problem... boy?" asked Kodi. "Don't wanna play with your puppies no more? ...Or, you just now startin' to figure out what bein' a thugger really means? You already got enough enemies, fool, you don't gotta go out an' make 'em!" He grabbed the gun from Raney and jammed it against the kid's forehead. "This ain't no music video, boy! Or some kinda gangsta movie! I pull this trigger, it's over for real! The lights go out, an' it's dark forever, an' there's nothin' but worms in your future!" That suddenly seemed like a cool idea!

The kid shied away from the gun, but then his eyes widened in sudden new fear. "What's that?" he cried.

"What?" asked Kodi.

The little kid pointed a trembling finger. "In the mirror! I thought I seen a face!"

"Y'all owe us five dollars, darlin'," said Raney.

"He can't hurt you," said Kodi. "He's already dead. ...Not like your little gang-baby friends."

"You mean you got ghosts in this house?" asked the kid.

"This is 'Nawlins, darlin'," said Raney. "Y'all don't got a ghost, why your neighbors would talk."

The little boy got up hesitantly and hoisted his jeans to a less naked level. When Kodi did nothing, he sat on the bed but kept his eyes away from the mirror. "What I do now?" he whimpered.

Kodi lay the gun on the dresser. "What about your folks?"

"My mom's on crack. I was gonna get put in a home, but then I hook with the Skeleton Crew. They been watchin' my back an' feedin' me good. That what the game all about."

"You play, you pay," said Kodi. He poked the kid's tummy. "That was the play." Then he picked up the gun and aimed at the boy. "But this is the pay... sooner or later."

The kid sneezed again and looked ready to cry.

"Bless... Shit!" Kodi tossed the gun back on the dresser, then yanked off the kid's bandanna. "Wipe your snotty-ass nose, fool. Are you on crack too?"

"Nah. Gots me a summer cold, is all. My mom always say they the worst."

Kodi glanced at Raney. "I don't know what to do, cousin."

"Y'all could give him back the gun."

"Funny, man, but no cigar."

"I wouldn't kill you if you did," said the boy. "Swear to god, man! Y'all was right, this ain't cool shit."

"I don't wanna find out if you lyin'," said Kodi.

"Only one way to find out," said Raney.

"Why I don't wanna." Kodi thought for a moment. "You figure those punks would hurt your mom? Like, if they can't get you?"

"I dunno," the kid sniffled. "I guess they could."

"Damn!" muttered Kodi.

Raney seemed to be thinking. "Well, he said. "Your 'homies' don't know what happen to you. Your baby bow-wows bailed they butts an' left you on your lonesome, darlin'. ...Y'all really that stupid, little man?"

"I used to get good grades in school."

"I mean to believe in that gang-bangin' bull."

"I just said I don't believe it no more."

"Trouble is, I don't believe you."

Kodi studied the smaller boy. "Maybe they think we called the cops an' you're in jail right now."

"They find out about that," said the kid. "They said they could get me anywheres. Even outside a grave!" Tears rolled down his cheeks once more.

"Beyond the grave," corrected Kodi. "But I don't think they're that bad yet. They're still only kids. An' I hate to say it, but you're probably smarter than they are. ...Which sure as hell ain't sayin' much!" He paused to think again. "For all they know we capped your ass an' dumped your corpse in the river. ...Where you live?"

"In the Projects. By Cemetery Number One. ...Same as them."

Raney sighed. "Like mud-suckin' fish in a little ol' pond. Y'all can only feed on each other. It ain't enough y'all poor an' stupid, but you gotta go killin' each other, too."

The gate buzzer sounded.

"Oh shit!" cried the kid. "They come for me, man!"

Kodi grabbed the gun off the dresser.

"Damn!" muttered Raney, now on his feet. "Wish I had my rifle!"

"Chill out," said Kodi, though scared himself. He waved the gun toward the coffin-like press. "Get in there... what's your name anyhow?"

"Newton," said the kid.

"Well, get the hell in there an' keep your ass quiet!"

"What should I do?" asked Raney.

"Lock it when he gets inside. I'ma go see who it is."

Raney locked the clothes-press door after Newton had hidden himself. He slipped the key into his pocket, then looked ready to wrestle something. "I got your back, cuz."

Kodi shook his head. "With what? Those muscles of yours ain't bullet-proof."

"Be careful, man. I don't wanna see your face in that mirror."

"I don't wanna see yours out of it, either." Yanking up his slipping jeans, Kodi left the room and descended the stairs, the gun held tight in both hands. He wondered if the ghost was watching and what it might think if it was... like, why black kids were killing each other instead of picking cotton? Aiming at every shadow, he shouldered the screen door quietly open and crept along the wall to the gate, pushing through the tangled foliage draped in ivy and twisted vines. Rats scuttled squeaking out of his way. He stopped at the corner to plan his next move... should he risk a peep? That could get him a face full of lead. He sucked a deep breath and called, "Who's there?"

"Hello?" said a man's voice, sounding white. "Are you giving tours of the house today?"

Kodi blew out a sigh of relief. He was sweating so much that his jeans were soaked as if he'd been caught in a thunderstorm. He tugged them up to a more decent level, slipped the gun in a deep back pocket, then cautiously stepped around the corner. There was the middle-aged couple he'd seen out on the street a few minutes before. He definitely didn't feel up for a tour, but life went on and his aunt needed money like everyone else in the world. He made himself smile, a Voodu boy, a magic descendant of African chiefs. He usually wore a loincloth and a necklace of bones while giving these tours, but it was too late to put them on. Fortunately, the bleeding had stopped so the bandage looked like a decoration bound around his chubby arm.

"Sho'," he said, unlocking the gate. "Right this way, folks. Ah hope y'all ain't scared of ghosts."

Chapter Three:

"Aren't you frightened?" asked the woman. "All alone in a haunted house?"

Kodi paused at the door to his room. Although two-stories, the house was small, and the tours only took about thirty minutes unless there were lots of people with questions. The furniture was all antique, giving the place a ghostly look, enhanced by the shadows and cobwebby corners -- his aunt encouraged the "spiders art" -- and also the musty graveyard smell. There was a TV and some modern things, like a microwave oven and stereo, but they were usually kept out of sight so the house was like a living museum... or living in one, anyhow.

In the parlor stood an idol of Esu, a little black pot-bellied boy with horns. He was carved life-size from ebony wood, and looked almost real in the shadowy gloom, his tummy bulging so comically round that he posed leaning backward to balance himself. A candle eternally burned at his feet among a pile of offerings -- toys and things a young boy would like -- also cigars and a bottle of rum. A believer had left him a Diskman, and he wore the headphones over his ears atop his bush of genuine hair... most of which was Kodi's. His eyes were glass -- Kodi assumed -- as black as night and filled with joy, which often made visitors smile. Kodi had formerly played Esu's role in the evening Voodu ceremonies, until he'd gotten too old for the part, attaching goat horns to his head with glue... which hurt like hell to remove. His aunt had been using a neighbor's son, but he'd gone to live with his father this summer, so Esu wasn't appearing right now.

There was also an altar to Baron Samedi, the Keeper of Graveyards and Guardian of the Dead. He was sometimes portrayed as a rough wooden cross, draped in a long black funeral coat with a top-hat perched on the vertical beam, but Kodi's aunt had her own eerie version; a skeleton dressed in similar garments who ruled the room from a twilight corner.

Offerings were encouraged, and the woman added fifty cents to the pile of coins at the skeleton's feet, plus another quarter for Esu. Kodi always suggested dollars, but his mind was somewhere else right now... the gun kept dragging his jeans off his butt, though he didn't know how to get rid of the thing without maybe freaking his guests.

On a wall hung relics from slavery days; a leather bullwhip -- which might or might not have been authentic -- a branding iron for runaways, and various cumbersome shackles and chains, all of which were on the real. Kodi explained the purpose of each: there were leg-irons, manacles, ponderous collars, all so huge and medieval-looking they might have been made of papier-mache' if they hadn't been so obviously heavy. There was also a six-foot "trader's chain," like a cartoon leash for a bad-tempered dog, with an iron collar and huge padlock. Kodi clamped it around his neck and invited the man to hold the chain while giving him a few "commands." The man declined with nervous politeness... white people generally did.

Kodi's room and Marie Laveau's bed were the last things to see on the haunted house tour, and Kodi hoped Newton wouldn't sneeze. "Ghosts are people too," he said, which got the usual tourist chuckle.

"Have you seen it?" asked the man, who had introduced himself and his wife as Mr. and Mrs. Trout.

"Ah feels it, suh, in mah bones," replied Kodi.

"Do you know who it was?" asked Mrs. Trout. "Is it a 'he' or a 'she'?"

"He a 'he', ma'am," said Kodi. "But we's never been rightly introduced. Mah aunt could tell y'all more if you like. You oughta come back fo' the ceremony. Ah gives you a half-off rate since you's already taken the tour."

Mrs. Trout asked, "Does your aunt cast voodoo spells?"

"Yes, ma'am, But only good ones."

Mr. Trout laughed. "Is she out casting any right now?"

Kodi smiled. "She help at the Vieux Carre Children's Center. They's real busy with school bein' out an' so many kids with nothin' to do."

"What if I wanted to get rid of somebody?" asked Mr. Trout. "That's hypothetical, of course."

"She could spell him a job in another town, suh. You don't gotta hurt folks to better yourself."

Kodi cautiously opened the door. He still wore the collar around his neck and deliberately rattled the heavy chain, which should have sounded a warning to Raney. He wasn't sure where his cousin had gone -- for a dude as solid as Raney was built, he was pretty good at vanishing -- but he'd also disposed of the forty-ounce bottle and even straightened the velvet bedspread, though the ghost of Newton's bare sweaty bottom could still be faintly seen. The key was out of the clothes-press door, which meant that Newton was still inside. It had to be hotter than hell in there, though Kodi wondered why he cared.

"Oh, my!" cried Mrs. Trout. "Look at that bed!" She hurried over to study the carvings.

"It would sure take me out of the 'mood'," laughed the man, while giving Kodi a wink.

Mrs. Trout snapped several digital pictures, her camera flash bright in the shadowy gloom. "Does anyone sleep in it now?" she asked.

"Ah does, ma'am," said Kodi. "But, ah'm descended from African chiefs, so's ah'm safe from evil spells an' such." He told the usual tale of the bed, then spoke for a time of Marie Laveau, who might have been the most powerful woman in the history of New Orleans. "She surely be the most famous," he added.

"I heard she's buried in Saint Louis Cemetery Number One," said Mr. Trout.

"Her grave be there, suh," said Kodi. "But nobody know where the bones went to. They took 'em away a long time ago 'cause somebody woulda stole 'em."

Mrs. Trout shuddered. "Why would anyone want her bones?"

"'Cause they be powerful gris-gris, ma'am. ...That's magic stuff, like accessories. Y'all could cast some mighty big spells with magical bones like hers. ...They's a graveyard tour from the Voodu Museum over on Rue Dumaine. Say you was here an' they give you a discount. ...Now, Miz Laveau, she get lots of letters. An' special-delivery packages, too. Delivered right to her tomb."

"But, you said she isn't in there."

"Her bones be gone, ma'am, but her spirit come back every night."

"To read her mail?" asked Mr. Trout smiling.

"Sho'," said Kodi. "Why not?"

"Could we go there alone?" asked Mrs. Trout. "And save the price of a tour?"

"Ah wouldn't advise it, ma'am." Kodi glanced at the clothes-press. "There be Projects right across the street."

The man and woman exchanged knowing glances. They might have been white from a small Kansas town, but they knew what "Projects" were all about.

Kodi added, "An' they lock the graveyard gates at three. Ah heard lots of stories 'bout careless folks gettin' locked in that place overnight. One guy was only twenty years ol', but his hair had turned white in the mornin'!"

The woman shivered, but seemed to be enjoying the tale. She went to the dresser, glanced in the mirror, then studied a small framed photograph of Kodi playing poker with something half-rotted, lipless and toothy. "Halloween party?" she asked.

"Nah, just a zombie."

Mrs. Trout winked at her husband, then gave Kodi a smile. "Very realistic. Can you do magic and voodoo? You seem to know so much about it."

Kodi shrugged. "Ah can do me a few simple spells. But mah aunt always sayin' ah don't pay attention, an' sometimes ah don't wanna practice enough."

"Not doing your voodoo homework?" asked Mr. Trout with a smile.

"Ah 'spose y'all could say that, suh. But, Voodu a lot more than magic. It be a good an' ancient religion with roots goin' way back to Africa. Some folks say it was the first religion, an' the word itself mean 'spirit.' But, most people don't know nothin' about it, 'cept what they seen in horror movies."

"It does seem like black magic," said Mrs. Trout, glancing again at the zombie picture.

Kodi patted his night-colored chest. "It our magic, ma'am, if you know what ah sayin'. But, black ain't the color of evil... evil come in every color. An' Voodu ain't evil, just misunderstood. No offense, ma'am, but it funny how white folks like elves, wizards an' leprechans, an' Harry Potter an' Lord Of The Rings, but y'all think Voodu is evil an' bad. But, Voodu gots laws like everythin' else. 'Cept they be laws you best not break. An' one of 'em's usin' magic fo' evil. Y'all might say, if you play, you pay. But the price be your soul enslaved forever."

"Could you hurt someone by sticking pins in a doll?"

"Maybe, ma'am. But that be a bad thing to do. Like breakin' a magic law, what ah sayin'. Besides bein' mostly Hollywood shi... stuff. If ah really had me a enemy, ah try an' make 'em mah friend."

"Throw a 'love-spell' on him?" chuckled the man.

"You can't make nobody love you, suh. Why, God Himself can't even do that. You can only show 'em why they should love an' let 'em decide fo' themselves."

The man took his wife's hand. "I think I'd agree with that."

"Could you call up your ghost?" asked Mrs. Trout. "I've always wanted to see one."

"She loves vampires, too," chuckled Mr. Trout. "She’s read every one of Ann Rice's books."

"Maybe, ma'am," said Kodi. "But ah wouldn't know what to do with him, an' ghosts get awful mad when that happen. Why, they was a guy last summer... the cops found him dead in a house up the block! He was layin' in one of them pentacle drawin's he'd made with chalk on the floor. ...They like a protective circle fo' you."

"But, what happened to him?" asked Mrs. Trout. "If he was safe inside his circle?"

"He died of starvation, ma'am! He'd called up somethin' real nasty, but he didn't know how to put it down! An' he couldn't leave his ring of protection or then it woulda got him! That's one of the main rules of magic, ma'am... never call up what you can't put down."

"Like poker-playing zombies?"

"Yes, ma'am." Kodi flexed his chubby fingers. "But ah gives it a try if you like? No extra charge."

The woman shivered again. "No, thank you! I'd much prefer a friendly ghost."

Mr. Trout laughed. "She collects Casper memorabilia, too." He regarded the grisly old bed. "I don't care for the theme of those carvings... skeletons, coffins, and grave-robbing ghouls... but it's a beautiful piece of work. We sell antiques on-line."

"Mah aunt was offered fifty-grand."

Mr. Trout whistled. "Can its history be verified?"

"They's lots of stories 'bout Miz Laveau, but ain't too much in the way of facts."

The man laughed again. "We hear that all the time in our business... 'George Washington slept in this bed,' and other various tales like that."

"Well, suh, I kinda think, if she did have it built, then she only use it fo' unwelcome guests."

Mr. Trout stepped to the coffin-like press. "This is also a fine old..." Then he tensed. "What's that? I heard a sound in there."

"Prob'ly jus' a rat, suh. They's rats all over the Quarter."

Mrs. Trout smiled a bit nervously now. "Not your ghost?"

"Well," said Kodi, improvising. "He usually don't come out in the day. ...'Course, we been talkin' 'bout spirits an' such, so maybe that got him interested."

The man put his arm around his wife. For a moment they looked like teens on a date. "We'll be back for the ceremony."

"Starts right after sunset, suh. Y'all come early an' get the best seats."

The man gave Kodi twenty dollars as his wife arranged her hair at the mirror. "Keep the change, son. And thank you for the interesting tour. We'll be sure to tell our friends back home."

"May I take your picture?" asked Mrs. Trout.

"Sho', ma'am," said Kodi. "But, you might wanna wait till tonight fo' that. Ah sorta dress up in bones an' such. Fo' the atmosphere, what ah sayin'."

"That would be fine," said the woman. "Maybe with your zombie friend?"

Zombies ain't like good wine, ma'am. They don't improve with age."

Kodi escorted his guests to the gate, made sure it was locked behind them, and then ran puffing back to his room with the heavy chain clanking over his shoulders.

Raney was just stepping in through a window, shiny with sweat from the heat outside. "We oughta get us another forty," he said while closing the drapes.

"I made us a ten dollar tip," said Kodi. "You could go to the market..."

A small fist pounded the clothes-press door. "Get me outta here!" Newton howled.

Raney tossed the key to Kodi. "So, what we gonna do about him?"

"I don't know, man. I really think he's scared to leave, an' those other punks would try an' kill him. It's some kinda stupid gang 'respect'."

Raney snorted, flaring his nostrils. "Ain't nothin' 'bout gangs I respect!" Then he considered. "But, don't forget, if he kills one of us then he cool with his little ol' thugger friends. An' he don't gotta use a gun, I guess. They's plenty of knives in the kitchen."

"Lemme out!" wailed Newton again. "There's somethin' nasty in here!"

Kodi unlocked the clothes-press door, and Newton leaped into his arms. "I'm scared!" he cried, clutching Kodi.

Kodi peered into the shadows, seeing nothing except the clothes he'd brought... T-shirts, jeans, and a Cleveland Browns hoodie. "Ain't nothin' in there. Check it out, fool."

"Somethin' tickled me in the dark!"

"Probably just the hoodie sleeve."

"No! It was cold! ...A-an' it whispered! ...Nasty!"

Raney laughed. "Y'all owe us another five dollars, darlin'."

Kodi examined the press again, moving his shirts around on a shelf.

"Hey!" Newton yelped. "There's a skeleyton!"

"It's only a skull," said Kodi. He patted its smooth ivory dome. "My aunt said it came with the house. Might even belong to our ghost." Then he laughed. "It's part of my 'Voodu homework'."

"It whispered to me!" cried Newton, backing quickly away from the press.

"Well, it's never said nothin' to me," said Kodi. "An' I been tryin' to get it to talk ever since I was your age."

Raney smiled. "Too bad it don't talk when tourists here. Aunt Simone be rich in no time."

Newton warily eyed the skull after reaching the other side of the bed. "Maybe it heard what you said to them people? 'Bout callin' up ghosts, what I sayin'."

Kodi closed the clothes-press door. "No tellin' what it hear or see. Or what it thinks if it does. I used to worry a little... like, when I was takin' a shower an' the ghost could see me naked. But then I decided the hell with it. After all, it's dead. Like, what I care what a dead thing thinks?"

Newton hastily pulled up his jeans. "Don't want no ghost to see me naked!"

Raney laughed. "It a little late to worry 'bout that."

"I'm thirsty," said Newton. "Gots any more brew?"

Raney turned to Kodi. "So, what we gonna do with him? I sure don't trust the little rat."

"I said I was sorry," said Newton.

Kodi sighed. "Why don't that make me feel any better?"

"How your arm, cousin?" asked Raney.

"Hurts a little, but you cleaned it good, an' I never got no infection before. I could tell Aunt Simone I cut it on somethin'...like, choppin' wood for the ceremony."

"She know you was lyin'. She always does."

"Well, maybe she won't even axe. Another forty would help." Kodi gave Raney the twenty dollars.

"I get us a couple," said Raney.

"I'm hungry," said Newton. "I never had lunch."

"I thought your 'homies' was feedin' you?" Raney poked Newton's comical tummy. "Look like they done a real good job."

"There wasn't no time for lunch today."

"Guess shootin' somebody was more important."

"We got some stuff in the fridge," said Kodi.

Raney frowned. "Y'all watch your back with him, cousin."

"I got it covered." Kodi took off the massive chain and clamped the huge collar around Newton's neck. Then he locked the end to a skeletal bedpost.

"Don't leave me in here alone!" cried Newton. He tugged at the big rusty chain like a puppy, while flicking a white-eyed glance at the press.

"Chill out, man," said Kodi. "I'ma put some grub in the microwave."

"Take me with you! Please, man! Don't leave me in here with that nasty ol' ghost!"

"I'll be back in a minute. Quit freakin', dawg."

"No! Please, man! It scared me!"

Chapter Four:

Night was beginning to settle in, that quiet time between day and dark when cooking aromas flavored the air and stomachs rumbled with anticipation. In New Orleans there were many food scents, and all of them were tantalizing: Cajun, Creole, and French cuisine, barbecued ribs and broiled steaks, crispy fried chicken and succulent shrimp, catfish, gumbo, beans and rice. No wonder the place was called "Fat City," and Kodi got chubbier every year. He'd only been down here a few days now, but his belly was bobbing at least an inch lower and his saggers would hardly stay on. For that he could blame his cousin Raney, who ate all the time when he was in town as if he'd been saving his appetite for Kodi's yearly summer stay. Their days began with massive breakfasts -- ham and eggs, hash-brown potatoes, biscuits, gravy, and hot buttered grits -- followed by a monster lunch at one of the many restaurants. They topped it off with a gigantic supper, then raided the fridge after midnight. But Raney could eat like an alligator and never gain an ounce -- or if he did, it was always muscle -- while Kodi only got fatter.

They hadn't gone out for supper tonight because of Newton chained to the bed and terrified of being alone: but Raney had shown off his cooking skills, after making a run to the Red & White Market, producing a boatload of 'gator burgers and several other bayou delights. He'd also bought a pecan pie and a can of whipped cream to top it off.

Kodi had opened the windows, though leaving the drapes securely shut, and the shadows had gotten so deep in the room that Raney was almost invisible, taking a nap in the ancient chair while Kodi stood out on the gallery. There weren't many signs of life at this hour, though Bourbon Street was beginning to boom a couple of blocks away. Its rhythm was like the heartbeat of jazz, and would quicken and throb as the night grew older. Later there might be mysterious drums from over in Congo Square.

Newton was also asleep. He'd gobbled up everything given to him and washed it down with a whole forty-ounce. His capacity for stuffing himself seemed virtually unlimited, like a kid who'd been hungry for most of his life and never wanted to starve again. He lay sprawled on the bed in the heavy slave collar, his arms flung out like a crucified kid, his tummy now a big brown balloon that looked about ready to pop.

Kodi leaned on the iron rail. He balanced the skull from the press in one hand while holding the gun in the other. "Talk to me," he said to the skull, peering into its empty orbits, its noseless nose an inch from his own. "Who were you? When did you live?" Kodi opened his mind and waited.

The air was still hot and he glistened with sweat as if someone had polished a midnight. It usually took him a week to adapt, and the titanic meals made him sleepy and slow like the pace of life in New Orleans.

The skull only smiled as skulls always do, and Kodi set it down on a chair. He parted the curtains to check on Newton, then returned to the gallery rail. There were girls out there in that hot steamy night, and he was stuck here with a damn... niggerboy!

At least his arm had stopped hurting. Getting shot always sounded dramatic, but the wound wasn't more than a couple-inch gash in the baby-chub padding his biceps. It probably should have had stitches, though a bullet scar would be cool to take home like a souvenir of his summer adventures. But, one was more than enough! He tensed for a moment as two younger boys came walking around the Chartres Street corner, but they were carrying tap-dancing shoes and sharing a bottle of Coke. Another movement caught his eye, but it was only a scuttling rat. Then a white kid appeared, maybe seventeen, and dressed like a typical vampire. He was strolling along in a black satin cloak as the twilight deepened to gunmetal dusk.

Kodi watched him a moment, then sighed. It was tempting to try and forget the gang -- the "Skeleton Crew" were only young kids -- but they were also deadly. Raney would soon return to the bayou, but Kodi was stuck here for almost three months, and the French Quarter wasn't a very big place. Sooner or later he'd meet them again. And, worse, they knew where he lived.

He scanned the darkening sidewalks: he almost wanted to see them below, creeping along like rats in the gutter and hoping to catch him off guard. There were four them, but he had five bullets! He stroked the gun barrel thoughtfully, almost enjoying its promise of power, the feeling of reassurance it gave, the comforting knowledge that it could protect him. He glanced at the skull on the chair.

"What choice do I got?" he murmured. "If I turn Newton loose on those streets with the gun, he might try cappin' somebody else. Maybe just to save his own life, but that ain't no justification. An' without the gun the others might kill him."

Again, Kodi opened his mind and waited, but the skull went on smiling in silence.

"Lotta help you are," said Kodi. "Raney was right, y'know? It's all so stupid an' childish. They're ignorant kids playin' gangster games they seen in movies an' rap videos. It ain't enough they're poor as dirt, but they gotta put each other in it."

Kodi fingered the gun once more. "Maybe the world would be better without 'em? ...There's too many ignorant niggers." Then he shrugged. "Aw, why am I talkin' to you about this? You might've owned my great-great-grandfather."

From Royal Street came the clopping of hooves as a carriage of tourists went rattling past, crossing Ursulines Avenue. Kodi opened his mind again, but he couldn't "see" or feel the gang.

"So, why use magic?" he asked the skull, while waving the gun in its smiling face. "Magic takes practice an' lots of hard work: a gun only needs its trigger pulled, an' even a dumb niggerboy can do that."

Kodi picked up the skull and returned to his room. He put the skull back in the clothes-press, then lay the gun on the chest of drawers next to the zombie picture. He'd been packing it with him for most of the day, but it made him feel safe and protected. The mirror was like an obsidian window instead of a simple looking-glass. Sometimes he thought he could see a faint flicker, like something hovering deep inside, but nothing definite swam into view to gaze at him with empty eye-sockets. He switched on the room's feeble lights, candle-shaped bulbs in ornate wall brackets that mostly annoyed the gathering gloom. The ancient gas lamps were functional, but his aunt only used them for tours. Newton woke up and looked around. "I gotta go to the bathroom."

Raney also stirred, then yawned. "Aunt Simone back yet?"

"Nah," said Kodi. "But, I better start buildin' the fire."

"How was magic practice?" asked Raney.

"Dead things ain't tellin' no tales tonight." Kodi tossed Raney the big rusty key. "Newt's gotta go."

Raney got out of the chair and stretched. "What y'all gonna tell Aunt Simone about him?"

"Don't know yet. Ain't thought much about it."

"So, what you been thinkin' about, cousin? He's our biggest problem."

Kodi shrugged. "I dunno. Guns an' stuff. ...Stupid niggers."

Raney frowned. "Stop sayin' that word, it make you sound stupid. An' them ain't our worries right now. Simplest thing be to just throw him out. It him they wanna kill, not us."

"No, please!" cried Newton. With the massive collar around his neck, he looked like a pot-bellied pit-bull puppy chained in the back of a four-by-four.

"Don't get him started again," said Kodi. "I guess we could hide him. At least for tonight."

"No!" wailed Newton, jumping up and losing his jeans. He strained at the six feet of clattering chain. "Don't put me back in that coffin, man!"

"It's not a coffin, dammit," said Kodi.

"Then where?" asked Raney. "They gonna be tourists all over the house."

"We'll think of somethin'," said Kodi. "Just take his ass to the bathroom, aight? I'ma get dressed for the ceremony."

Raney unlocked the chain from the bed and led Newton out of the room. Kodi took off his jeans and sneaks, slipped into a loincloth and necklace of bones, then checked himself in the murky mirror. A skull appeared where his face should have been, but he was used to things like that and decided it wasn't a sign. ...At least he hoped it wasn't.

"If you come from God, welcome," he murmured, a simple spell of banishment his aunt had taught him long ago. "If you don't, get the hell out of here!"

Not waiting to see if his magic had worked, he padded into the shadowy parlor to place new candles around the Baron, then did the same for the idol of Esu. He paused to study the pot-bellied god with his short little horns and impish grin as Raney returned from the bathroom with Newton tagging behind on the chain. "Smile, man," said Kodi.

"Huh?" asked Newton, as if being asked to do something weird.

"I know it ain't cool for a thugger, but let me see you try."

Newton produced a V-shaped grimace and looked like a baby with gas.