This is fiction. A mystery/suspense/action/adventure. Please ignore the location for the concert—I realize it's at the Louisiana Superdome, which is probably not anywhere near the city I choose, but it's just a story. okay.
CODENAME: LANCÆLOT
by silverluna
Chapter Two
~*~
The tour bus pulled through the hot streets of New Orleans. It was mid-morning, and today was a half day off.
Justin had complained that it wasn't fair that they were in Louisiana and Britney had to be touring Europe at the same time. Chris had commented that well, they were one state over from Mississippi, Lance's home state, and somehow that made Justin feel better.
Lance sat on the bus, studying a tourist's book on New Orleans. They were going to go sightseeing today, right after they checked out the place of their concert. It would be in Crescent City. Lance read about it in his book:
Crescent City is known for its famous 'Cities of the Dead,' elaborate cemeteries with marble or cement tombs which stand well above ground. Corpses were buried in tombs above the surface because most of the city is below sea level. Any corpse buried in the ground would already be in water and would soon rise in a horrific fashion. The early nickname for the city was 'The Wet Grave.'
Lance shivered. Well, that's pretty gross and creepy. He stopped and looked up when he heard Chris and Justin arguing about who was going to wake JC. Both Joey and JC were still asleep, but neither Chris nor Justin wanted to go near Mr. Sleepy. Lance eyed them, and said, "Forget it. I'm not doing it."
"Chris, you're older. You do it."
"No way, Bounce. You're more mature. Besides, he wouldn't kill his old pal from MMC."
Justin scowled. "Yes he would if he was tired enough."
A little smile formed on Lance's lips. "Gee," he tried offhandedly, "I wonder if Joey's awake yet—"
They took the bait. Justin and Chris eyed each other momentarily, then took off in that direction. Lance laughed as they scrambled for the same space, bumping into each other and cursing.
He went back to his reading. The city is known for its exotic history rich in the paranormal—a history of spiritualism, of Voodoo, and of ghosts. Ghosts are found almost everywhere in New Orleans, if you believe the legends. There are ghosts resulting from war, from natural disasters, and from interpersonal conflicts. He studied this paragraph. "Voodoo?" he whispered. "Ghosts?" That creepy wigged-out feeling of the previous night came to him like an unfurling fog settling around him. Soon, this fog was cutting him off from the rest of the world. It was snaking its gnarled fingers around his neck, pushing his head to one side, nuzzling his shoulder with a cold breath....
Lance stood up abruptly without thinking, and lost his balance. He teetered and fell back against a sofa they had in the living area. The book slid from his grasp, dancing across the carpeted floor. From his position half on the floor, Lance touched his skin. It was hot yet moist. He frowned, mad at himself for acting so stupidly. What's wrong with you? It's just a bunch of old stories about an area of the South. It's not like you haven't heard the old stories of haunted Mississippi. The original feeling dissolved into the air but didn't dispel altogether.
Chris wandered into the living area. "Damn those young 'ins," he mumbled in a mock old man voice. His eyes drifted to Lance half on the floor. He raised an eyebrow. "Did you break a hip, sonny?" he continued in the eerie voice.
Lance cracked up. "Nah, Gramps. That's your department." He pushed himself back onto the sofa. "Did you have to wake JC?" he asked before Chris could inquire about his position on the floor.
Chris sat heavily in a bean bag chair and sighed. "Did you know that's he's the most difficult person to bring into the world of the living?"
Justin also wandered into the room, scowling. "Joey spit on me, and told me to leave." The scowl morphed to a smug grin.
"So, how much water did you pour on him, J?" Chris laughed.
"Enough so he sweared at me and said he was gonna make me a part of New Orleans' history."
New Orleans history? Lance thought. His eyes searched the floor for the book. It was waiting where it had slid. He decided to leave it where it was for the moment. He entertained Chris and Justin with the info he had learned.
"Really? That's cool," Chris said in awe about the 'The Wet Grave.'
By the time they were almost there, JC was awake, studying the section of the book about Marie Laveau, the Voodoo Queen. "This is pretty interesting," he muttered.
Joey eyed him warily between sips of coffee. "Yeah. That's great. Ghosts. Voodoo dolls. Sure. Whatever."
"I think it's a cool idea," Justin said. Joey's eyes snapped over Justin with a stint of anger still clinging. "I mean, just make a doll of Joey, and then I could just pour water on it anytime I wanted—"
Joey snorted. "Those things are called Marionettes."
"Could we not talk about those things?" Lance groaned, starting to get a headache about the legal suit about the puppets.
Chris smirked. "Why, Lancie-poo? You afraid of all of this voodoo mumbo jumbo?" As he spoke he waved his hands like he was practicing Black Magic against Lance. Then he tripped.
Joey, Lance, and Justin laughed out loud.
JC set the book in his lap. "Chris? Are you hurt? We have a concert tomorrow. You can't be hurt. Get up." Then he continued to read.
From the floor, Chris groaned. Slowly, he crawled to his knees. "I'm feeling so much love right at this moment," he said sarcastically.
Justin, Lance, and Joey laughed again. Justin offered Chris his hand.
~*~
"Well, so, it doesn't look so foreboding in the daylight," Lance began, "but it is a little creepy to be to be doing a show in a city nicknamed 'The Wet Grave.'"
Joey rolled his eyes. "Chill, Poofoo."
"Yeah, really," Justin added.
Lance raised his eyebrows. "I'm just saying—"
"Well, don't. Today's our day to have fun in this old city."
It was hours later, their rehearsal set. They had the rest of the afternoon and night free to explore.
JC unwrapped a piece of gum and stuck it in his mouth. Their lunch had been...interesting to say the least. Joey had insisted on taking in some of the food culture: crawfish, estouffe, and file gumbo. It had left a less than pleasing taste in JC's mouth. "We should go to that Voodoo lady's house. It's on St. Ann Street."
Lance eyed JC, a bit unnerved. "But that's outside the French Quarter."
JC looked at the map. "It's not that far."
Chris grumbled. "Tell me why we're taking a walking tour again?"
JC didn't seem to notice their reluctance. He turned to look for their bodyguards. They were around, but unseen.
"It's not on our scheduled route," Lance the worry wart said.
"Lance Lance Lance it'll be okay," Justin said with wide, child-like eyes.
Lance just stared at him, not knowing him at all for a second. Then it ended.
"Let's go," Justin continued.
JC smiled.
"Why the hell not?" Joey added, pretending to be ethunsastic. Pretending to care.
"But guys—"
"Lance, our bodyguards aren't just going to let us walk off alone. They'll stay with us."
Lance bit his tongue. It wasn't whether or not their bodyguards were going to be with them that worried him.
~*~
Lonnie watched Nsync turn down a different street than scheduled. He radioed Dre to stay close; the crowd was closing around him and he was having a difficult time staying close, yet far away.
Unfortunately, Dre was having similar problems....
~*~
The guys wound their way to St. Ann Street. Luckily, they hadn't yet been recognized—their disguises were serving their purposes. JC approached some women and asked if they knew which house was the Voodoo Queen's. They laughed, and JC flushed, realizing it must be a common tourist question. One of the women pointed, saying "That's Marie Laveau's—the Voodoo Queen's— house down there." She had a French lilt to her speech.
"The one at the end?" JC confirmed.
The second nodded, then added, "Though she held rituals on the banks of Bayou St. John." She had dark hair and a haunting quality about her.
JC felt she cold see into his eyes, even though he wore dark sunglasses. He felt she was almost asking him, Have something to hide? "Thanks," he managed.
The women smiled, walking away into the crowd.
Lance was reading aloud the little blurb in the book: "New Orleans Voodoo was based in animism (nature belief) from Africa and was modified in Haiti to include a belief in zombies and the spirit world, including demons and ghosts."
"It's down there, guys," JC pointed. "But the women said she practiced on the banks of Bayou St. John."
Joey, Chris, and Justin stared hard at JC. Chris wondered about this sudden interest, clucking his tongue. "We're not actually going to go there, are we?" Justin finally got out.
JC seemed to hesitate.
"The Voodoo Queen was known for her involvement in Black Magic. But it's likely she mixed magic with spying and blackmail to get her way. The elite of the city would seek out Marie Laveau for advice. A very clever woman, she personally knew many of the servants of the city's most influential citizens. She got most of her information from these people, thus to 'work her magic.' She had once been a hairdresser to the ruling class of the city, and knew how servants could obtain info on their masters," Lance read.
Chris gave a slight nervous laugh. He chided himself for it. "See? She was only a gossipy spinster. Your typical celebrity Hollywood world."
"Let's just go see her house, and then go back," Joey began before JC started to make decisions.
JC stood still. He felt torn somehow. It was one of the oddest feelings he'd ever had.
"C?" Chris tried.
JC blinked, seeing something run past his line of vision just before his eyes were completely shut. It was a fast, turning black shape. He opened his eyes, but the street was sunny and the buildings were old but charming. There weren't any foreboding shadows stretching from looming towers. He blinked again, and the almost shape of a person flung by him, this time in the opposite direction. He opened his eyes immediately—in mid blink, and seemed to see the person-like figure wrapped in a black shawl vanish into a shadow wrapped around a building. This took place in a matter of seconds, but for JC, it seemed like an eternity.
Lance, still ahead of them, continued to read. "As the story goes, she was given the house by a grateful client whom Marie helped with her voodoo charms called gris-gris—a magical potion of various crushed herbs concealed in a small bag."
A 12 year old girl and a 4 year old boy walked by them, staring, because the guys were stopped in the middle of the sidewalk. Justin gave an award winning smile and mumbled something about sun blindness. The girl looked happy because she was getting to share in a "grown-up" thing, and the fact that an older guy was smiling at her. Joey snorted when the kids were gone. "Sun blindness? With dark sunglasses on?"
Lance had gone on ahead, absorbed in the info.
"JC!" Joey shook him.
JC half blinked one more time. He was sure this time he'd seen a fracture of a face. A finger against lips, a finger beckoning. Eyes grey and haunting.
"Hey, Wipeout," Justin said.
That brought him out of it. He snapped his head to Justin, scrunching up his face in an unpleasant way.
"Nice to have you back, Wipeout," Justin continued.
JC's cheeks flushed. He swung around, noticing Lance wasn't with them. He rushed to catch up with him.
Chris snickered. "Is that an MMC thing, J?"
Justin just grinned, walking on.
The house had the outward appearance of being normal. Ordinary.
"Damn," Joey said. Justin stared at him. "I was hoping it would be painted with snakes"—Justin shivered at the word snakes—"or skulls or something all over it." He did some "voodoo" hands at Chris.
"Nah. Ordinary. Can we go now, JC?" Chris asked, directing his attention to the member in charge. He bit his lip.
JC stepped towards the house.
Lance mouthed "oh no."
JC moved closer. He couldn't see around into the backyard but he knew there was a stone doorway, and on the door were red flowers hanging—roses perhaps. He closed his eyes. He could see the half fractured face. The finger beckoning. A bony hand reached out towards his face. Then, a physical touch. A grasping one. Crushing his shoulder. He screamed.
~*~
"Did you have to scream that loud, JC?" Joey protested.
JC's cheeks colored, unsure of an appropriate reply. A believable one, anyway.
"I mean, geez. We're there like 5 minutes, and all of that voodoo shit got to you or something."
"Don't say that." It wasn't a warning. It was a meek response.
Joey was a bit taken aback. "Well, it is just shit. That's all."
JC seemed pale and unconvinced.
He had been standing there, staring at the house—the Voodoo Queen's. Joey had only meant to pull him back, out of the way. At the mere touch, JC screamed. Loud. Like a screamy fan: "Oh my God! I can't believe it's you!" But his was just a cry with no expressions. The haunted birth of fear. Passersby had stared, and the guys got JC out of there fast, back to their designated tour spot. Lance had trailed, reading in his book about the Queen's practicing spots.
He was, at the time, blind to the face of fear, unaware of its presence: so close, yet so far.
They were still grilled by their bodyguards.
"What, did you think that the ghosts got us or something?" Chris interjected, trying to loosen up the mood.
Ghosts. Spirits. Entities. JC paled further. Something had reached out to him. Touched him. Not flesh but something otherworldly. He stopped. No, that's just stupid, he thought. He threw a look to Lance, who half fumbled, still absorbed in the haunted words. It's just shit like Joey said. No big deal.He resolved to forget, but something in his past—a shadowy notion—wouldn't allow it.