The little kid sneezed when he pulled the trigger. That was his only big mistake because everything else was a perfect setup for putting Kodi underground. He 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, spitting yellow-orange flame in the shadowy alley.

But, Kodi had noticed four other boys who were hanging out across the street, their backs to a wall in the blazing sun. That wasn't normal in New Orleans, and Kodi's brain had buzzed a warning that something was wrong with the picture. The oldest boy looked about fourteen while the youngest was maybe 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 wore only jeans and sneaks, their shirtless bodies gleaming with sweat like polished African idols. But, Ursulines Avenue wasn't a place where blunts, beads or bodies were sold; not many tourists traveled the street, and kids with nothing else to do mostly hung out in front of bars or little corner markets. The dudes weren't packing voodoo dolls or toting any dancing shoes, but all were wearing black bandannas. Kodi's mind was lazy from lunch but came alert as he entered the alley.

Then the little kid sneezed.

Seeing where the gun was aimed, Kodi dodged 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 kids dashed away up the street, awkward in their saggy jeans and leaving the little 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 gangstuh grip. He also looked a little confused when Kodi didn't bite the dust. Then he stared at Raney, who 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 a second shot. To Kodi that was obvious. He charged the wide-eyed little kid before he could pull the trigger 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 black guns. He dropped the piece and spun around, trying to make a bust for the gate. That wouldn't have done him any good; even if he'd cleared the spikes 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 were already falling off, which made it pretty hard to fight. He was slick as slime with smelly sweat, punching, kicking, trying to bite, but Raney got him around the neck and slammed him against the rough brick 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 would have been a mistake for anything but a bulldozer. 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 Nikes kicked the air a foot above the cobblestones, while his jeans slipped down to his knees. He wasn't wearing 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 as if he'd caught something small and nasty that maybe he'd kill or just throw out the window. "You all right, cousin?"

Kodi checked 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 and lots of rolls and a belly that hung way over his jeans and wobbled whenever he moved. The bullet had missed his biceps muscle, cutting clean through fat. "I guess so," he puffed, shaking sweat from his eyes.

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.

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

"Hurt you!" roared Raney. "You try an' cap my cousin's ass, you dirty little weasel!"

"I had to!" gurgled the kid.

"The hell you sayin'?" demanded Kodi, jamming the gun muzzle tighter. "You think I put a spell on you? If I did then killin' me wouldn't stop it."

"Hold up, man," said Raney. "We can't stay here an' figure this out. Somebody musta 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 silent as death. There was only the humming of air-conditioners in upper floor windows along the street. His arm was starting to throb with pain, and blood was still leaking 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. He scanned the shadowy alley, which led to the little courtyard. The liquid music of trickling water echoed between the ancient brick walls. Then he faced the sunlit street. "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 city-ass shit, man! Guns an' gangs an' thugger crap!" He considered the sweaty, near-naked kid then turned again to Kodi. "So, what we gonna do with him? I feed him to my 'gator, you want?"

"No!" cried the kid.

"Shut up!" bellowed Kodi, surprised by a sudden flame of rage despite that fact this kid had shot him. He was starting to feel sort of dizzy and weak. He glanced down at the time-worn cobblestones but there wasn't a lot of blood. Maybe it was the smothering heat, especially here in the narrow alley which felt like an oven tomb. He wiped more sweat from his eyes. "Aunt Simone won't be back till dark. 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 hear me, you little... nigger?"

"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 big brass key from his 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. His jeans rode way below his hips, and he yanked them up an inch or two then stepped aside for Raney.

Raney gave the kid a shove, and Kodi added a kick to his butt. 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. A mossy old fountain was brimming with lilies, and water poured out of a bronze lion's mouth. There was a wooden table and chairs, and fire pit circled by blackened bricks where Voodoo 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 paving stones with his jeans cuffs dragging over his sneaks. 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. The little kid was sobbing again. His jeans had puddled around his ankles, the black bandanna slipped over one eye, and his tattered shoes 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 hadn't missed a lot of meals and his belly jutted so comically round it looked like he'd swallowed a basketball. He started to pull up his jeans, 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. "Crawl, shithead! Like a coffin worm! You just might need the practice!"

Kodi's room was a spook-house. The walls were paneled in worm-eaten oak that was 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 velvet made the gloomy room look cool, but 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 said 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. You couldn't quite see their faces and were somehow glad that you couldn't. The bed's 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. 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 spectral threads of spider silk. The fan was turning slowly now, stirring the heat like a witch's brew, and all three boys were dripping sweat.

Kodi shoved the kid into the room. Then, using the strap from his travel tote, he 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, after dousing the wound with alcohol from the bathroom medicine cabinet. The bleeding had just about stopped; 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 plopped down in an antique chair like a muscular African boy-god, and mopped his face with the back of a hand. "Had me enough action for one day, cousin! So, what we do for a love scene?"

Kodi went to one of the windows, 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 glimpse of the thugger kids. A middle-aged white couple stood in their place, probably reading the sign at the alley which advertised the Voodoo 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. 'Least not nobody alive." 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 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 face and his big bush of hair, while the black bandanna still over one eye didn't back up his gangstuh front. 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 and spattered his basketball belly. "Ain't tellin' you nothin', nigger!" 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. The kid began to cry again and blubbered out, "I wanted to join the Skeleton Crew, an' they tole me I had to 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. Or maybe the pulsing pain in his arm. But no, he thought, it was something else... it was knowing he'd been a random mark for this baby-banger's initiation!

"It coulda been anybody," added the kid, confirming what Kodi felt.

Kodi almost pulled the trigger! Something seemed to laugh in his mind... fourteen years of hopes and dreams, of staying in school, of getting good grades, and trying like hell to be a good person; 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 'cause of him."

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 spatter the floor.

"Thanks," he finally panted, with a fourth of 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 moldering bones. "An' I lost his gun!"

Kodi glanced down at the old .45. "Your 'mentor'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 out a window or somethin'?"

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

Kodi studied the blubbering boy: his tears looked totally on the real, but little... niggers lied so much they half believed they were telling the truth. He felt the gun's heat in his hand again, which seemed strange after only one shot. He tossed the gun to Raney and then untied the kid.

"What you doin'?" asked the boy.

"Turnin' you loose. 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. But now what we got? Rag-ass gang-bangin' babies like you who kill your own brothers for nothin'!"

"Hold on!" said Raney. "You can't turn him loose!"

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

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

Kodi scowled. "Pull up your Pampers an' get the hell out!"

"No, man! I can't! Them niggers 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 fell to his knees at Kodi's feet. "Please!" he sobbed. "Don't make me go out there!"

Kodi raised the luggage strap like a whip above the kid's naked back. "Go on, nigger! Show everybody how bad you are!"

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

"That's what he is!" bawled Kodi.

"No! Please!" cried the kid.

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

"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 about that." He flipped the pistol in his palm as if it was only a cheap plastic toy. "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 snatched 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 as he stared over Kodi's shoulder. "What's that?" he cried.

"What?" asked Kodi.

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

Raney glanced at the mirror and smiled. "Y'all owe us five dollars, darlin'."

"He won't hurt you," said Kodi, also glancing at the mirror. "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, your neighbors would talk."

The little boy got up hesitantly and hoisted his jeans a bit. 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?"

The kid wiped his eyes with the back of a hand. "I only got mom an' she on crack. I was gonna get put in a home, but then I hook with the Skeleton Crew. They been watchin' my back. That what the game all about."

"You play, you pay," said Kodi. "That's what the game's all about."

The kid sneezed again and looked ready to cry.

"Bless... Shit!" Kodi 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 and shrugged. "Any ideas?"

"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 studied the kid again. "You figure those punks would hurt your mom? Like, if they can't get you?"

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

"Well," said Raney. "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?"

The kid puffed his tight little chest. "Had me a B average 'fore school let out."

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

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

"Trouble is, darlin', 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!"

"Beyond the grave," corrected Kodi. "But 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."

"Like fish in a little ol' pond," sighed Raney. "Y'all can only feed on each other. Ain't bad 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?"

"Newton," said the kid.

"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 in his pocket, then looked ready to wrestle something. "I got your back, cousin."

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

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

"I don't wanna see yours out of it, either." 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? He eased 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 faceful 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 eased 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 Voodoo 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 dis way, folks. Ah hope y'all ain't scared of ghosts."

"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 taller than it was wide, so the tours only took about twenty minutes unless there were lots of questions to answer. The furniture was tattered and old, giving the place a haunted look, enhanced by the shadows and cobwebby corners -- his aunt encouraged "spider art" -- and also the musty graveyard smell. His aunt had a TV and some modern things, like a microwave and a 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 eight-year-old boy with horns. He was carved life-size from ebony wood and looked almost real in the shadows, 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 an old Diskman, and he wore the headphones over his ears atop his bush of genuine hair... a lot 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 used to play 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 young son, but he'd gone to live with his father this summer, so Esu wasn't performing. There was also an altar to Baron Samedi -- or Semetery -- 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 Aunt Simone 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; between the spill of his belly in front and the weight of the gun in his deep back pocket, his jeans kept slipping off his butt, and he didn't know how to get rid of the gun 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, which were chillingly on the real. With one hand holding onto his jeans 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-mâché 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 bulldog, 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 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," said Kodi.

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

"He a he, ma'am," replied 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 can gives you a half-off rate since you's already taken the tour."

"Does your aunt cast Voodoo spells?" asked Mrs. Trout.

"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. Dey'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 where Newton had sat in his sweaty old jeans. The key was out of the clothes-press door, which meant that Newton was still inside. It had to be pretty hot 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 lurking shadows. "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 de 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! Dey took 'em away a long time ago 'cause somebody woulda stole 'em."

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

"'Cause dey be powerful gris-gris, ma'am. Dat's magic stuff, like accessories. Y'all could cast some mighty big spells with magical bones like hers! ...Dey's a tour every day from da Voodoo Museum over on Rue Dumaine. Say you was here an' dey gives 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. "Dere be Projects right across da 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' dey lock da graveyard gates at three. Ah's heard lots of stories 'bout careless folks gettin' locked in 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 practice enough."

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

"Ah 'spose y'all could say dat, suh. But, Voodoo a lot more den magic. It be a good an' ancient religion with roots goin' way back to Africa. Some folks say it was da first religion, an' da word itself mean spirit. But, most people don't know nothin' about it, 'cept what dey 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 knows what ah's sayin'. But, black ain't da color of evil... evil come in every color. An' Voodoo ain't evil, just misunderstood. No offense, ma'am, but it funny how white folks like elves, wizards an' leprechauns, an' Harry Potter an' Lord Of Da Rings, but y'all think Voodoo is evil an' bad. But, Voodoo gots laws like everythin' else. 'Cept dey 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 da price be your soul enslaved forever."

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

"Maybe, ma'am. But dat 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 them?" chuckled the man.

"You can't make nobody love you, suh. You can only show 'em why dey should love an' let 'em decide fo' themselves."

Mr. Trout 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," added 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 dat happen. Why, there was a guy last summer... da cops found him dead in a house up da block! He was layin' in one of dem pentacle drawin's he'd made with chalk on da floor. ...Dey 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' nasty, but he didn't know how to put it down! An' he couldn't leave his ring of protection or den it woulda got him! Dat's one of da 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?"

"Dey's lots of stories 'bout Miz Laveau, but ain't too much in da 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."

"Well, suh, I kinda think, if she did have it built, den 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. Dey's rats all over da Quarter."

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

"Well," said Kodi, improvising. "He usually don't come out in da day. ...'Course, we been talkin' 'bout spirits an' such, so maybe dat 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 da 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' dat. Ah sorta dress up in bones an' such. Fo' da atmosphere, what ah sayin'."

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

"Zombies ain't like good wine, ma'am, dey don't improve with age." Kodi escorted the 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 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 the hell outta here!" Newton howled.

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

Kodi shrugged. "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. "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 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, man."

"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 checked 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 Voodoo homework."

"It whispered to me!" cried Newton, backing 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 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 are we gonna do with him? I still don't trust him, man."

"I said I was sorry," said Newton.

Kodi glanced at his bandaged arm. "That don't that make me feel any better."

"How is it, 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 basketball belly. "Look like they done a real good job."

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

Raney rolled his eyes. "Guess shootin' somebody was more important."

"There's some crawfish pie in the fridge," said Kodi.

Raney frowned. "Y'all watch your back with him, cousin. They's a lot of sharp things in this house."

"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 pie 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."

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

Raney laughed. "Wouldn't be much of a ghost if it didn't."

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 here a few days so far, but his belly was bobbing at least an inch lower and his jeans 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 -- sausage 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 gigantic suppers, 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 barefoot in only his jeans. 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 almost supernatural. He lay sprawled on the bed in the heavy slave collar, his arms flung out like a crucified kid, his belly bulging like a 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 while 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. More sweat dribbled out of his cave of a navel to spatter the cobblestoned street below. 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 movie 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. As he'd noticed before it seemed oddly warm but that was somehow comforting, too. He glanced at the skull on the chair.

"What choice do I got?" he murmured. "If I turn Newton loose on those streets with this 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, he 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 of owned my great-great-grandfather."

From Royal Street came a 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."

He 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. 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 slave collar key. "Newt's gotta go."

Raney got out of the chair and stretched. "What we gonna tell Aunt Simone... I mean about him?"

"Ain't thought much about it."

Raney raised an eyebrow. "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." He glanced at Newton. "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. "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, 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 boy 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 bad-ass thugger, but let me see you try."

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

"Practice a while," said Kodi. "But use the bathroom mirror."

Aunt Simone was as black as space and as beautiful as the stars that filled it. She was also a super-size lady, but Kodi thought she looked freezerburn cool in the courtyard's flickering firelight. Tonight she was wearing a red cotton dress that was perfectly cut to her full-figured shape. Her wrists were encircled with African bracelets woven from colorful telephone wire, and she wore a necklace of ruby glass beads. A headband of feathers adorned her long hair, while gold rings flashed like sparks on her fingers. She'd been born and raised in the mountains of Haiti, and her Voodoo was totally on the real... though there were also some French Quarter fronts who were only after tourist dollars and couldn't have cast an actual spell if their souls had depended upon it.

The house had been empty when she had moved in, around the time that Kodi was born, because the ghost had scared everyone out who'd ever tried to live in the place. But, Aunt Simone had given it hell; the neighborhood still remembered that night when wails and shrieks had curdled the air and the windows had glared like a fiery furnace, and now it mostly sulked around, playing tricks like tickling Newton or putting skulls in Kodi's mirror. It seldom tried to scare a tourist unless they were openly skeptical, and then it might tingle the back of their necks or whisper nasty things in their ears.

But, there was a lot of showtime in magic; people expected mysterious tricks, and Aunt Simone held a grinning skull that began to glow eerily blue.

"Voodoo is an ancient religion," she said, surveying her watching guests. "Its roots lie deep in Africa, and its wisdom was brought here by slaves."

She gestured beyond the circle of light, and Kodi appeared in a brilliant blue flash, a muffled boom, and a billow of smoke. There was a pretty good crowd this evening, fifteen people filling the chairs around the ceremonial fire. They had already taken a tour of the house in the greenish glow of the flickering gas, which always set a ghostly mood, though the ghost, as usual, hadn't helped. The courtyard resembled a Haitian jungle overgrown with ferns and vines, and the fountain added a shivery sound as the moss-covered lion recycled its water. The table was draped with a crimson cloth, and upon it were skulls and other gris-gris -- feathers, beads and bony old things -- but there weren't any pins, or dolls to impale. People also expected those, like Mickey Mouse at Disneyland, but Aunt Simone didn't play with toys.

Kodi peered over the dancing flames while standing half concealed in shadow and glistening black with baby oil. He wore the heavy old trader's chain in addition to his loincloth with his belly chub hanging over in front. Raney had bandaged his arm again, this time using a red satin rag so it looked like something African.

Mr. and Mrs. Trout were there, and Kodi smiled in conspiracy, which made them willing participants. Then he glanced to the alley gate where Raney was standing guard. Raney also wore a loincloth, a boy-god gleaming with baby oil, while holding a spear and watching the passage. Usually this was only for show -- "keeping evil spirits away" -- but tonight he was packing Newton's gun.

For a moment there was expectant silence, except for the crackle of burning wood and the trickling splash of the fountain. The smoke slowly drifted away from Kodi. The people, all white, were gazing at him, and he realized he'd missed his cue. Still, nobody was smirking... after all, he'd come back from the dead and was probably sleepy or maybe surprised.

His aunt covered coolly by asking his name, to which he responded, "Nathan, a slave." His aunt remarked that it wasn't his name: his true name had been stolen. But before she sent him "deep in the past," she invited audience questions. The people asked most about plantation life and how he'd been treated by his master. "Nathan" had been a blacksmith's apprentice; many slaves had been skilled in trades and weren't just used for picking cotton. He patiently explained to a guest that blacksmiths didn't often shoe horses... that was a farrier's trade. Of course, few people believed he was dead, most were aware this was only a show, but they learned some truths that wouldn't be told on air-conditioned plantation tours.

Then Aunt Simone "took him back to Africa," and the massive old chain fell off by magic to clatter around his feet. He answered questions about his life before he'd been captured by raiders. The people were pretty cool tonight -- once in a while there were doubters or drunks -- but this group wanted to hear the truth and Kodi was glad to oblige. His "real name" was Tau, he said; and he spoke of his life on the Ivory Coast, hunting, fishing, and growing to manhood. His people had been prosperous before the Europeans had come, with castles as mighty as those of England.

But then the slave-traders attacked, and spears had been no match for guns. He told of his voyage on a crowded ship, chained to the planking in dark stinking holds, a torture itself for any people who'd lived all their lives in the sun and fresh air; of how so many had died on the way -- men, women, children, babies -- their bodies thrown in the sea like trash to feed the sharks that followed the ship. He told of the auction in New Orleans -- the slave market was a restaurant now, which probably puzzled the ghosts -- and of watching his mother and father be sold while he was purchased by somebody else and never saw them again.

"Why?" he asked with tears in his eyes, tears that were always on the real. "What gave them the right?"

The people were silent and meditative when "Tau" had finished his story. Aunt Simone asked, "Will you stay and play the drums for us?"

Kodi went to a set of African drums and began to beat a slow rhythm. He glanced at Raney again, who'd been carefully eyeing the alleyway, but everything seemed to be cool. Then, Kodi scanned the windows above in the other three buildings surrounding the court. Two were houses, closed for the summer, their occupants fled to cooler climes, while the third was a store that faced Royal Street and had no courtyard access. Its lower floor was a tourist trap, selling souvenir shirts and other cheap junk, along with "genuine Voodoo dolls complete with authentic hexing pins and cursed by a real Voodoo priest," but its upper floor was unoccupied and the dusty windows stared down at the court like black empty eyes in a skull.

The show hadn't changed from previous summers, and Kodi knew it all by heart, his aunt describing Haitian rites, which were neither savage nor sexual, and the various Voodu spirits:

"The Voodoo of Haiti has several gods; the greatest of whom is Baron Samedi, represented tonight by this skull."

There were gasps of wonder among the crowd as the glowing skull floated from Aunt Simone's hand to hover by itself in the air!

"There is also Erzuli," Simone continued. "She is the Goddess of Love." Then she smiled. "And of course little Esu. You have all seen his idol tonight in the house, but perhaps he will join us in spirit..."

Kodi beat a dramatic roll. There was another flash and boom, and Newton appeared in a billow of smoke!

He might have been a little drunk, but at least he didn't get stage-fright. He was wearing nothing but baby oil and a few bright feathers below his round belly secured at his hips with a slim leather strip, along with a pair of short little horns that poked through his jungle of hair. There hadn't been time to teach him much about his part in the ceremony -- except to smile and stop fronting bad -- but Aunt Simone had been delighted with Kodi's "new little friend." Kodi had said he was spending the night, adding that there were "problems at home"... which wasn't really a lie.

Esu held a cigar in his fingers, and suddenly it was alight. He grinned in a very impish way and took a few casual puffs.

Aunt Simone continued, "There is nothing evil in Voodoo. And despite what you may have seen in films, we seldom stick pins into dolls. ...Although, and as with any religion, there are always false priests and charlatans who seek to misuse its power." She turned to Newton. "Esu is the god of children, and children are always pure in heart. Yet, being innocent, they are often prey to evil influence, so Esu is their guardian..."

"Um," said Newton, taking his cue. "If there is evil among us tonight, let us recognize an' banish it!" He gestured to the floating skull, which began to cruise the audience and peer into people's faces. There were many reactions of nervous surprise as well as uneasy laughter.

Esu cried, "Only the good may enter here!"

Then, Kodi saw the skull hesitate. Eerily, it turned in the air and seemed to look up at the second-floor windows of the building that faced Royal Street. Kodi followed its hollow gaze and saw that one of the windows had opened! He leaped to his feet to shout a warning, but Aunt Simone had seen it, too. She gestured, bringing a thunderous boom and a dazzling flash of brilliant blue light. A billow of smoke burst up around Esu just as a gunshot blasted out. The skull dropped into the lap of a guest, a woman who let out a hair-raising scream.

Esu vanished in the smoke, but Kodi dashed to where he'd been standing. Newton was only a small gleaming shape, but still on his feet and seeming unhurt. Kodi brought him down like a lion, crashing onto the moss-covered ground and tumbling into the tangle of ferns. Newton let out a yelp of surprise, but Kodi clapped a hand to his mouth and dragged him deep in the foliage. The smoke was beginning to clear away. The guests were looking confused... had that been a shot, or part of the show? Raney had whipped out the pistol. For a moment he aimed at the empty window, but saw the people looking around and shoved the gun back in his loincloth.

Aunt Simone's eyes penetrated the ferns where Kodi waved an okay. She turned to Raney who'd recovered the skull and was gently calming the frightened guest. Raney brought the skull to the table, and Aunt Simone resumed her role:

"There is no evil among us, children, but it must have been very near tonight."

"Stay here!" whispered Kodi to Newton. "An' keep your ass down!" He scanned the open window above. Would they wait up there for another shot? That would have been hella stupid, but, after all, they were only kids. And that was the danger of baby-bangers, they took stupid chances that older kids wouldn't. He wondered what he could do; should he take the gun and go after them? But, to get up now would spoil the show.

"I'm scared!" whispered Newton, clinging to Kodi, their bodies slick with baby oil.

"Chill out," murmured Kodi. "They're probably two blocks away by now, unless they're as stupid as you were today."

The ceremony was almost over. In previous summers they'd had a dancer, and Kodi had played the drums for him; but traditional dancers were hard to find, and street kids mostly did tap routines.

Sometimes Simone did a few private readings after the end of the ceremony, and people often lingered to talk. The Trouts had wanted to take Kodi's picture, which was usually good for a few extra bucks. The guests were beginning to leave, Raney letting them out through the gate, until only the Trouts remained. Kodi warned Newton to stay on the under, then emerged from his ferny concealment.

"Oh, there he is," said Mrs. Trout. "You promised us a picture, remember?"

"Sho', ma'am," said Kodi, tugging his loincloth up a bit. "Take all you want. No extra charge."

"How's your 'grave'?" asked Mr. Trout with a wink.

Kodi grinned. "Y'all know how that is." He posed between the man and woman while Aunt Simone snapped a picture.

"Don't we get to meet Esu?" asked Mrs. Trout.

"Um," said Kodi. "He gone back to Haiti."

The couple traded knowing smiles, but the man gave Kodi a five dollar bill, and his wife thanked Aunt Simone. "Tell Esu I think he's very cute."

They walked hand-in-hand to the gate like kids, then the man turned around and called back, "This is our second honeymoon, and we've really been enjoying ourselves. Tomorrow we're taking the graveyard tour."

"Esu's blessings upon you, children!" called Aunt Simone.

"'Member to axe fo' da discount," said Kodi.

Raney closed the gate and trotted over, toting his long heavy spear.

"Is the child all right?" asked Aunt Simone.

"Yeah," said Kodi. "I told him to chill."

Raney growled, "Want me to go out an' track down them punks?"

Aunt Simone frowned. "You will do no such thing, Raney Douglas! Take that child in the house right now!" She turned to Kodi. "It seems you have something to tell me. I will be in when I clear the table." She saw Kodi's eyes flick up to the window. "They have gone. All four of them."

"You seen 'em?" asked Raney.

"I did not need to see them to know there were four, and the eldest is fourteen-years-old. I had our guests to think about, or else I would have discovered their names." Aunt Simone faced Kodi again. "And you would have known they were up there, had you only been paying attention!"

"But I was!" Kodi snapped.

"Only with your eyes. Have I not taught you better?"

"Voodoo ain't helpin' a lot right now."

"Only because you don't practice enough." Aunt Simone looked up at the window. "Little boys playing with guns! Thinking that makes them manly! They should be spanked and sent to bed!"

"Y'all think you got Newton?" panted Terrel as he reached the top of the dimlit stairs. He was a honey-brown boy of thirteen with a loose sloppy body now dripping with sweat from the gang's frantic get-away run. He toted an Olde English forty-ounce bottle and paused for a few thirsty gulps. Like the other three boys he wore big sagger jeans that were dragging the drawers off his bottom while a black bandanna adorned his short hair.

"Maybe," puffed Rick, fourteen and dusky, his body defined by small kid-muscles below an angular narrow-nosed face. He shook sweat drops from his thick bush of hair and cautiously scanned the third-floor hallway, seeming relieved to find it deserted. He'd been packing a cheap little gun in one hand, but now shoved it into a deep back pocket and tugged up his low-riding jeans. "With all that smoke it was hard to tell, but I think I seen Newton go down." He pushed up his slipping bandanna a bit and quickly moved down the hall. "C'mon before somebody sees us."

"What was that place anyhow?" asked Matt, who was also thirteen and so beautifully black that a panther would have been jealous. His body was slender and gracefully built, his eyes as dark as a moonless night, his face more pretty than boyishly handsome, his hair like an ebony dandelion puff. A pair of leopard bikini briefs were more than revealed by his dangerous jeans as he padded along after Rick. He touched Rick's shoulder and added, "That was some kinda Voodoo thing, man. An' them ain't no folk to be messin' with!"

Rick stopped at a door and listened a moment, then dug a key from his pocket. "It was phony-ass shit for tourists, fool."

"I was scared!" whispered Devon. "Did you see that skull? It was floatin' around in the air by itself!" Devon, twelve, was dark-coffee brown with a featureless little-boy's body. His hair was an old-fashioned Afro that shadowed his childish, wide-nosed face beneath the bill of a battered Saints cap.

"Everything scares you, nigger," Rick muttered, slipping his key in the lock. "An' that skull was probably on a string. Now, shut the hell up or you wake up my mom."

Terrel snickered softly. "That would take a cluster bomb."

Rick spun around and slammed Terrel's chest, knocking him into the opposite wall. "Shut up, nigger!"

"Sorry, man," murmured Terrel, as Rick opened the door and peered cautiously in.

"Just watch your mouth," muttered Rick. "...Boy."

The small living room was messily kept, its battered old furniture bleeding cotton. An ancient console TV was on, displaying cheap junk on the Shopping Network and babbling proudly about it. Rick's mom lay asleep on the ratty old sofa, a worn-looking woman as dark as her son and clad in a shabby blue bathrobe. A Night Train bottle was clutched in a hand, while another bottle lay dead on the floor.

"Go on in my room," Rick ordered his posse. He scanned their faces, alert for smirks, as they filed in from the hall. Rick locked the door, clicked off the TV, then gently shook his mother's shoulder. "Mom? ...Mom. C'mon now, wake up."

The woman stirred and half opened her eyes. "What time is it?"

"'Round about ten. C'mon an' get ready for bed."

"You make any money today?"

"A little, mom."

The woman rubbed her forehead as if trying to press away pain. "The rent's overdue, an' the check didn't come. Your father don't pay his support like he should."

Rick sighed. "Yeah, mom, I know. I got it covered."

A few minutes later Rick entered his room, which was small and a total disaster. Terrel lay atop the unmade bed, sharing the forty with Devon and Matt who were sitting nearby on the floor. Matt was smoking a Kool cigarette, and the air was already hazy. Comic book covers adorned the walls, and a few dusty toys lay scattered around as if forgotten a long time ago. A human skull sat on a beat-up dresser, yellowed with age but showing bright teeth and surveying the boys with a sardonic grin. Surrounding it was some tourist-trap gris-gris, feathers, fake charms, and "spell-casting candles," along with the usual kinds of things that a young teenage boy would have in his crib -- rap CDs, an old boom-box, and a pile of hip-hop magazines -- though space had been recently cleared for the skull as if to give it a place of honor. Rick snagged a Kool from Matt, and Devon flicked a lighter for him. Rick took the lighter and fired the candles, their glow reflecting back from a mirror that hung above the dresser. Finally, he went to an open window that overlooked the cemetery.

Terrel took the bottle from Matt and swigged brew. "I don't think you got him, Rick," he said. "We woulda heard sirens by now."

"Axe me, that's good," said Matt, blowing smoke. "We don't need us that kinda trouble."

Rick stood scanning the silent graveyard, its rows of pale white oven tombs surrounded by plastered brick walls. "The nigger ain't worthy, so he's gotta die."

"Man, did you learn a new word?" asked Terrel. "That 'nigger' shit's startin' to wear on me, 'specially 'out no 'a' on the end."

"Shut up, man," muttered Rick.

"I don't like this gang-bangin' shit," said Matt. "We was better off dancin' an' sellin' charms."

Rick's eyes stayed on the city of death. "Shut the hell up, you stupid nigger! We finally gettin' us power, fool, an' all you doin' is holdin' us back!"

The three boys sat in the musty parlor, their bodies still slick and shiny with oil in the dim greenish glow of the flickering gas. The skeletal Baron watched from his corner with shadowed eye-sockets and glittering smile, while Esu grinned at his own living image who sat on the couch very naked and scared despite the fierce horns on his bushy-maned head.

"Want a cigar, little man?" asked Kodi.

"Yeah," said Newton. "I need doin' somethin'. An' another forty, too."

"There ain't no more, you drank the last one." Kodi borrowed a cigar from Esu and lit it from one of the wavering lamps. He took a puff and sighed out smoke before handing it to Newton, who sucked the cigar like a blunt. Like Raney, who lounged in a nearby chair, Kodi was still in his loincloth. Newton had lost his feathers, though his belly covered his lap. There was silence except for the whisper of gas, the slow, stately tick of a skeleton clock beneath a glass dome on the mantelpiece, and the sensuous throbbing from Bourbon Street. A carriage went rattling past outside accompanied by the clopping of hooves. Except for the Diskman on Esu's ears, it might have been two-hundred years ago and the boys were slaves awaiting their master while taking liberties with his things.

Kodi sat down on the couch beside Newton as Aunt Simone came in from the kitchen. She carried a tray with a bottle and glasses, and looked very stern in her bracelets and beads like the powerful Haitian mambo she was. She placed the tray on a coffee table and poured seven glasses of Barbancourt rum. It was the good stuff, Kodi noted, at least a year older than him.

Simone set a glass at the Baron's feet and another beside Esu's toes. Finally she served the trio of boys, then settled herself in a plush velvet chair and raised an eyebrow at Kodi. "I believe you have something to tell me?"

Kodi and Raney sipped their rum, while Newton took a gulp from his glass, made a face but drank some more. The boys exchanged glances, then Raney spoke: "Y'all find out any more about 'em?"

Aunt Simone shook her head. "It is hard to follow the mind of a child. Like a shadow in sunlight, a leaf in the wind, it is always elusive and seldom at rest. Children often act before thinking, but the eldest boy thinks and I don't like his thoughts." She glanced at Newton. "Only he wants to kill you. I felt only fear from the others. They did not want to come there tonight, but he bends them easily to his will. He finds it exciting to play with death, and yet he has never killed before." She watched Newton's face. "That surprises you, child?"

"Yeah," said Newton. "He told me he capped him a whole lotta marks."

Aunt Simone sighed. "The boasting of boys is hardly unique, though it saddens me what they boast about. But, he will murder you if he can. To fail is to lose his followers, and without them he would be nothing. He fears this more than the consequences should he be captured for killing you, and this is where the danger lies." She paused to sip from her glass. "If I only had something of his." She paused again to look at Raney. "Take that gun from under your bottom. It can't be very comfortable there. ...No, I do not want to touch it. It screams its hate and fury at me. It was made in 1942 and once belonged to a soldier. It has taken three lives on a battlefield, and thus may have served its purpose. But, it has stolen many more lives in mindless rage and senseless violence. In fear, greed, and robbery. It almost took yours, Kodi Carver. ...I know what that cloth on your arm conceals, though Raney has tended it well. That gun has become an object of evil. Instead of serving, it will be served. You have already felt its corruption."

"Well," said Kodi. "I felt a lot safer packin' it. But that's only natural, ain't it? When somebody's tryin' to kill you."

"That is how it begins," said Aunt Simone. "At first it makes you feel safe. But then it whispers that you have power... you hold life and death in your very own hands. And what a seduction that is for a child! You think you do not have to fear anyone. What does it matter if they are bigger, older, or stronger than you?" She shrugged. "But, all of you have handled it now, and little remains of its former possessor except the feelings of power it gave him. ...And also your own. Newton was afraid of the thing. He sensed the evil that haunts it."

"Um?" said Newton. "I thought only houses was haunted."

"Anything may be haunted, child. Or 'possessed', if you prefer. And that includes yourself."

"Woah!"

Aunt Simone regarded the gun, which Raney had lain on the coffee table. "It has no power on you, Raney Douglas. To you guns are tools and nothing more. But that other boy...!" She turned to Newton, who looked uneasy. "It excited him much, did it not?"

"Yeah," said Newton, squirming a little beneath Simone's gaze.

Aunt Simone nodded. "Just as it did a few minutes ago when he tried to murder you with another. It gives him the power of the powerless, and that will destroy him very soon. The boy is not evil but only confused. Why not? He is only fourteen, a terrible age to be in this land! Already a man in many cultures, but here he is forced to act like a child... to play the part of a child, at least... until he is punished like a man. Like many others he might be saved, but no one cares or wishes to try." She turned to Kodi. "I know what you thought about 'solving' the problem. But you would not do it, your heart is too strong."

Kodi looked at the gun. "I could if I had to."

"Do not put yourself in that position or you will regret it the rest of your life... and possibly long afterward." Aunt Simone also glanced at the gun. "But, only his feelings about it remain. There is nothing more I can learn of him."

"We know where they live," said Kodi. "In the Projects next the cemetery. An' Newton's gotta know their names."

Aunt Simone sighed. "Have I not taught you better? That is what anyone would know. I am sure the police are aware of this 'gang' and waiting for them to make a mistake. But, the law cannot save, it can only destroy them. We are not on this earth to destroy one-another." She sipped from her glass then smiled at Newton. "Come to me, child, and tell me your story."

It was hard to believe that this cute little kid had tried to murder Kodi today... not now, cuddled in Aunt Simone's arms. With the baby goat horns poking out of his hair, it looked as if she was comforting Esu who'd made some ungodly mistake.

"There," said Aunt Simone at last, still holding the naked and glistening boy. "He will not need to be chained to the bed, or locked in a 'coffin' again." She glanced at the skeleton clock. "We will decide what to do in the morning. Many problems are solved during sleep. For now take your showers and go to bed."

"What about the gun?" asked Kodi.

"That is another evil of guns. To possess one is often to be possessed, just as that boy has become. It is not unlike what you felt about Newton once you had taken him into your life. You become obligated, responsible. ...As to the gun, you cannot simply throw such an object away and leave it for others to find. And you must never use it yourself, for then it will surely enslave you. And yet it will cry to be used. One might almost pity the thing; its only purpose in life is death. For now take it out of my sight."

The boys drank their rum as Aunt Simone left, then entered the bathroom to shower. Newton glanced at the cabinet mirror. "Is this one cool?"

"Most of the time," said Kodi. "Just watch your back with the one in my room."

"What can it do?"

"Ever see your face fall off?"

"Or maggots come out your eyes?" added Raney, stepping into the claw-footed tub and turning on the water.

Newton hesitated a moment, then cautiously studied himself in the glass. "I like havin' horns. They look kinda cool."

Kodi laughed. "You'll wish they were yours on the real in a minute. They don't come off easy."

"Yeah," added Raney. "An' the longer you wear 'em the harder it get."

"Is it Super-Glue?" asked Newton, giving one of his horns a tug.

"I never been sure what it is," said Kodi. He took an old rum bottle down from a shelf. It was half full of something that looked like blood. "Aunt Simone makes it with bone dust an' plants, an' also this stuff to dissolve it again."

"Like the magic stuff in the Voodoo store? All them bottles of potions an' lotions?"

"Ain't nothin' 'magic' in that phony place. It's only for tourists an' wannabe vamps." Kodi poured some of the thick ruby liquid around the roots of Newton's horns. "Takes a few minutes to work."

"Somebody do my back," said Raney.

"I will," said Newton, grabbing a washcloth.

"Don't get your hair wet," warned Kodi. "That stuff'll set up like cement if you do."

Newton scrubbed Raney's wedge-shaped back as if he were rubbing down a horse. "It was cool bein' Esu. Like, I was really somebody for once."

"Yeah," agreed Kodi. "I know what you sayin'. An' you were a really sweet Esu."

"Thanks," said Newton, smiling.

Raney laughed. "Y'all keep on eatin' like you done today, you really gonna look like him, too."

Newton patted his big round tummy. "That be cool. I sick of bein' skinny an' poor! Why I wanted to join a gang."

"There's a lot cooler ways to get phat," said Kodi, patting his own wobbly belly.

Newton stretched up to reach Raney's shoulder, but slipped and tumbled into the tub.

"Watch it, man!" yelled Kodi. "You're gettin' your hair all wet!"

"Sorry," said Newton scrambling out.

"Let's get those horns off."

"Ow!" cried Newton as Kodi pulled. "That hurts, dammit!"

"I said it was gonna. An' now you're all wet so it's gonna hurt more."

"Ow, DAMMIT!" yelled Newton as Kodi pulled harder.

"Let me try," said Raney. He took a firm grip on both Newton's horns.

"Be careful, man!" pleaded Newton. "...OW! Stop it, fool! You pullin' my skull out my head!"

"Easy, cousin," said Kodi. "That ain't a 'gator you're wrestlin' with."

Raney let go. "They really stuck, man! Like that time you got rained on last summer. Try some more of that horn-remover."

"Nah," said Kodi. "Wet like he is, that'll just make it worse. His hair should be dry in the morning, an' then they'll come off all right."

The boys washed the oil from each other's backs, then went into Kodi's room. Newton wouldn't look at the mirror and stayed away from the clothes-press. "So, you ain't gonna chain me up again?"

"Aunt Simone said you're cool," said Kodi. "An' she's never wrong about people."

"Could she put a curse on the Skeleyton Crew?"

"Easy as pickin' a tick," said Raney.

"But, she probably won't," said Kodi. "Cursin' is like shootin' people, once you done it you can't take it back."

"I sorry I shot you."

"I know you are, but it don't change what's done, you can't can't fix the past."

"Then why she wanna know more about 'em?"

Raney said, "For the future. It's the same as tryin' to help somebody. Like workin' with kids at the children's center. First you gotta find out what's wrong, an' most the time they don't know themselves. She wants to help those fools get better. Like, show 'em the light. You can't help people by cursin' 'em no more than you can by shootin' 'em."

Raney and Newton got into bed naked, but Kodi pulled his jeans on and took the gun from atop the dresser.

"What's up?" asked Raney.

"Just not sleepy right now," said Kodi. He parted the curtains and stepped through a window, going out to the gallery rail. The night air was like a steam bath, and sweat sheened his body again. Thunder rumbled distantly as a storm drifted slowly upriver. It was getting close to midnight; a few people strolled on Decatur Street and down near the levee two blocks away, but Ursulines was deserted. A woman came out on the gallery of another house a few doors down. She dropped a garbage bag onto the sidewalk for pickup in the morning. A gang of rats investigated. Drums were throbbing in Congo Square, and a ship hooted out on the river. Kodi tried to open his mind and ignore the warm feel of the gun in his hand. Had the Skeleton Crew returned to the Projects? Or, were they still ghosting around?

He tried to remember their faces, wishing he'd paid more attention. Aunt Simone knew the oldest boy's age, and the youngest had looked about twelve. The others were probably thirteen or so, and one was amazingly black. None were very muscular, so they wouldn't be much of a physical threat unless they fought together. He thought about defenses. He could make a circle of protection, though that was a lot of work. But, it wouldn't be easy to bust the house, even without a magic defense; the courtyard gate was savagely spiked, as well as the crowns of the gallery posts, so climbing them was dangerous and just about impossible. Tourists thought they were ornaments.

And the Skeleton Crew were only kids, they still got tired and had to sleep. They might be at home and sleeping right now, while he was awake and worrying. Damn this thugger shit to hell!

He cradled the gun in both hands, but only felt its strange steely heat. He pressed it tight to his chubby chest, but nothing came into his mind. It whispered to him of safety and power, but now he knew it was evil. He scanned the opposite sidewalk again. Had the boys left something there he could use, a wad of gum, a curl of hair, or maybe a piece of fingernail? But, those would be hard to find in the dark.

A small shape seemed to materialize, a shirtless boy in jeans! Kodi tensed and aimed the gun before he had time to think. But then he saw that the boy was white, an almost ghostly shade of pale. His silky hair rippled over his shoulders as satiny black as a raven's wing. Kodi jerked the gun to his side, and yet a shiver traced his spine... the dude was just so strangely white! For a moment he thought he was seeing a ghost, but the boy's big-jeans clung low on his hips and he wore a new pair of the coolest Cons. Besides, he was toting a skateboard, a most unghostly accessory. It was hard to see his face in the dark, framed by all that silky black hair, but his build was boyishly muscular, and Kodi guessed him around fourteen. The boy looked up as if sensing Kodi, his teeth gleaming huge and bright in a smile. "Hi."

"S'up?" asked Kodi, hiding the gun behind his back while leaning over the rail. His belly hung free in the steamy night air, and droplets of sweat dribbled out of his navel to glisten the pavement below.

The boy crossed the street to stand looking up. "Goin' down by the river to practice."

"I skate a little," said Kodi. "But not around here, the sidewalk's too rough." He thought about asking the boy if he'd seen any sign of the gang-kids, but that might have taken an explanation. "You visitin' here?" he asked instead.

The boy smiled again. His two front teeth were as big as chisels and almost a little scary. "I lived here all my life, man. Down on Barracks Street. I saw you a couple of times last year. Late at night. I'm Arlan."

"Kodi," said Kodi. "I'm down for the summer again. You oughta cruise over sometime."

"Cool," said the boy, then yawned and stretched.

"Kinda late for skatin'," said Kodi.

Arlan laughed. "I just got up so it's early for me."

"You party all day?" asked Kodi.

The boy hesitated a moment. "I... just like the night."

Kodi studied the snowy-white boy: it wasn't a shade that looked like a corpse, just more like he'd never been out in the sun. Arlan grinned as if guessing his thoughts. "Wish I had a tan like yours. I tried the moon but it don't work."

Kodi laughed. "Well, you ain't got a cloak so you can't be a vampire."

Arlan laughed, too. "Who'd wanna dress in their grandfather's clothes?"

Another drop leaked from Kodi's navel to spatter Arlan's upturned face. "Sorry man," said Kodi.

Arlan only licked his lips around his chisel teeth. "You know blood, sweat an' tears are basically the same?"

"I think I read that somewhere," said Kodi.

"Can you come out?" asked Arlan.

"Not tonight, man."

"You grounded?"

"Somethin' like that," said Kodi. "But, I'll be here all summer."

"I'll see you around," said Arlan. "If you stay up late."

"Most of the time," said Kodi. "Come over some night for the ceremony. I'll let you in for free."

Arlan licked his lips again. "Sweet. See ya, man."

"Later." Then Kodi added. "Be careful down by the levee, man, it's a real haunted place."

Arlan grinned. "Yeah, I know."

Kodi watched Arlan pad away with a confident stride down the dimlit street. Then he returned to his room, locking the windows and cursing the gang because now he would sweat and suffer all night while their Project apartments were air-conditioned.

The bed had plenty of room for three, but Newton lay pressed against Raney. "He wants to sleep in the middle," said Raney. "'Cause he still scared of the ghost."

"No prob," said Kodi, laying the gun on the bedside table then peeling off his jeans. Just watch your horns, Newt. Don't poke us in the eye."

"Who was you talkin' to, cousin?" asked Raney.

"Just some dude. He seemed pretty cool."

"Can you cover the mirror?" asked Newton. "So the ghost can't see me sleepin'."

"No," said Kodi. "He don't like that."

"Is the coffin locked with the skeleyton in it?"

"It's just a skull not a... Yeah, it's locked. Now go to sleep."

"Can I have another glass of rum?"

"You drink too much, even for a kid."

"It keeps the ghosts away."

"It don't keep 'em away, you just think it does."

"Then it works just as good."

"Go to sleep, man. There's a lot more to worry about than ghosts."

"What was the other glass for?" asked Newton. "Your aunt filled seven, remember? She gave one to Esu an' Baron Samedi but the last one's still on the coffee table."

"That's for our ghost," said Raney. "Sometimes it's gone in the mornin'."

"Can he see us now all naked?"

Raney chuckled. "S'pose he could if it wanted to, but I'm sure he seen more interesting things."

"There still some pie in the fridge," said Newton.

"So, go an' get it," said Kodi.

"I can't go alone. It dark out there."

"You scared of the dark?"

"No. Just the ghost."

"I'd get it," said Raney. "But Kodi's still up."

"Oh, hell," muttered Kodi. "Sometimes I feel like Nathan the slave."

Kodi brought back the remains of the pie, which vanished into Newton's belly. Then he turned off the lights and slipped under the sheet. Newton cuddled against him, raising the level of heat even more, but Kodi didn't say anything because Newton had been through a lot today and probably needed comfort. The glow of a street lamp shone in though the drapes, which Kodi had left partly open. The mirror looked like an ebony window, but Kodi watched the real ones. Despite the spikes on the gallery posts, a kid who was strong and determined enough might be able reach the rail and pull himself up without getting slashed. He thought again about making a circle, but picked up the gun instead. "Did he hold it a lot?"

"You mean Rick?" asked Newton, opening his eyes, his head on Kodi's chest. "Yeah. Like he never wanted to let go of it. An' he hated for anyone else to touch it... that's why he wants to kill me for losin' it."

"Wuttup?" murmured Raney.

"Nothin'," said Kodi. "Just thinkin', is all." He lay the gun back on the table, then relaxed and closed his eyes.

An hour passed as the three boys slept to the tick of the skeleton clock in the parlor. The storm had been slowly approaching, and flashes of lightning razored the sky, followed by booming rumbles of thunder. Lightning flickered closer now, glaring in through the gallery windows and striking blue sparks in the ebony mirror. The sky opened up and rain pounded the roof, pouring off the gallery to splash the street below, but the boys slept through it undisturbed. Another flash glared in shadowy mirror, and now a shape was beginning to form!

Newton stirred and sat up. His eyes were half closed, yet he groped for the gun on the bedside table, leaning over Kodi's chest. He clumsily cocked the .45's hammer and pressed the muzzle to Kodi's head!

Lightning crackled over the house, and thunder roared like a cannon blast. Raney woke up:

"Newton!" He grabbed the gun before Newton could fire, ripping it out of the smaller boy's hands. "You damn little sneaky-ass weasel!"

Kodi opened his eyes. "What...?"

"Shit!" yelled Raney. "Look at the mirror!"

Newton turned his head and screamed. A skull had appeared in the ebony window, rotten and grinning with long yellow teeth! Newton burrowed under the sheet, but Kodi cursed and leaped from the bed. "Get the hell outta here!" he yelled, facing the horribly grimacing skull. He tore a blanket off the bed and flung it over the mirror.

"Shit!" cried Rick as thunder crashed with a battering blast and lightning ripped the sky outside, glaring over the cemetery and tinting the tombs a deathly blue. His room was dark except for candles that flickered atop the dresser. He held the grinning skull in his hands while gazing into the mirror.

"Now what the matter?" asked Matt drunkenly. He lay on his back on the rumpled bed, while Terrel, even drunker, was crouching above him, holding the gun to Matt's forehead. Devon lay curled on the floor asleep.

"I don't know," murmured Rick, his eyes still searching the empty mirror. "I almost saw somethin' but then it went black."

Terrel looked at the gun pressed to Matt's head. "I wouldn't of had to shoot him, would I?"

"'Course not!" snapped Rick. "He would have done that in the other mirror."

"This is gettin' strange," said Matt. He pushed the gun away.

"No stranger than you, pretty-boy," muttered Rick. He turned to the mirror again.

"Maybe Matt's right," said Terrel, laying the gun on the bedside table. "These 'ceremonies' are pretty wack." He snagged a forty and drank.

"Shut up," said Rick, gazing into the glass. "I think I almost got him!"

"The hell was that?" bawled Raney, then... "Newton almost killed you, man!"

"I couldn't help it!" cried Newton, peeping out from under the sheet. "It was like I was dreamin'. ...The ghost made me do it!"

"Our ghost?" asked Raney, his mouth dropping open.

"No," panted Kodi, now dripping sweat. "The one in the mirror was different tonight. I should have expected somethin' like that an' made us a circle to sleep in."

"What you mean?" demanded Raney, looking ready to fight without knowing what.

Kodi regarded the covered mirror. "I been gettin' creepy feelings all day. ...Dammit, I should've been more careful!"

"Y'all better do some more homework, cousin."

Kodi returned to the bed and sat down, then punched Raney's hard-muscled shoulder. "Thanks, man, you saved my ass."

"What the hell was that, Kodi?"

"So, it wasn't your ghost?" asked Newton.

"Hell no!" said Raney. "Our ghost would never do nothin' like that!"

Newton emerged from hiding. "How you know?"

Raney shrugged. "'Cause ghosts almost never do anything new. Like, they never learn stuff when they're dead."

"But, I thought he used to be bad?"

"Scary bad, yeah," said Kodi. "But, he never killed or hurt nobody, even before my aunt moved in, an' he's been in this house over two-hundred years."

Raney got up and opened the press, ignoring the smiling skull inside. He put the gun on the shelf, then locked the door again. "I keep the key, if y'all don't mind." He slipped it under his pillow, then gave Newton a frown. "You try an' get that, I'll bust your head."

Kodi patted Newton's back as the little boy pressed against him. "It ain't Newton we need to worry about." He gave the mirror another glance. "I think I know what the danger is now, so I know what to guard us against."

"The mirror, you sayin'?" asked Raney. He went over and cautiously lifted the blanket, his other hand cocked in a sledgehammer fist to punch anything that might have flown out. "It gone, whatever the hell it was."

"It's a window to somewhere," said Kodi. "Any mirror can be a window, but you gotta know how to open it."

Raney glared at the empty glass. "Seem like somebody or somethin' did!"

Kodi turned to Newton. "Your 'homies' been messin' with somethin', man. No wonder they actin' so weird."

Raney looked thoughtful, still warily scanning the murky glass. "So, what the hell was it?"

"You said that already," said Kodi.

"Cute, darlin', but no cigar."

Kodi considered. "I'd say the gun."

"Huh?" said Newton, his eyes wide again.

Raney frowned. "That don't make no sense. A gun's only metal. A little machine."

Kodi nodded. "But that one's soaked full of evil from all the bad shit it's been used for. Aunt Simone could feel it, remember? She said it was haunted. Possessed. It got that kid, man. The wannbe thug."

"Rick," said Newton.

"Yeah, it possessed him, an' now he's haunted. An' it almost got me twice today... maybe even three times."

"What you mean, three?" asked Raney. "Newton shot you once already..." He gave the kid a sour look. "An' he try an' do it again just now. That only make two where I go to school."

Kodi patted Newton's back, then turned to the gallery windows. The storm was slowly passing, the lightning and thunder fading away, and the rain had softened to a drizzle that cat-footed over the roof. "But I almost shot that dude on the street, the one I was talkin' to out there. I couldn't even see he was white, somethin' just told me to kill him."

Raney grabbed the clothes-press key. "We best get rid of that thing right now! We should give it to Aunt Simone."

"But, what if they come back tonight?" asked Newton. "The Skeleyton Crew. We need that gun to cap them niggers!"

Kodi shook his head. "That's the gun talkin', Newt, an' you're speakin' its language."

Raney glared at the press. "Y'all keep your nasty ol' mouth shut in there or I'll do somethin' if I don't know what!" Then he faced Kodi again. "So, like I was sayin', we oughta give it to Aunt Simone. It won't have no power on her."