CODENAME: LANCĆLOT
by silverluna
Chapter Three
~*~
"How we doing New Orleans?" Justin cried through his headset. A grin spread across his lips as the crowd of 75,000 girls roared. "What? I can't hear you!"
"Make some noise, ladies!" Chris called out.
More screams.
They were dressed in their "Game Over" costumes. They had paused in the middle of the song to get some energy from the audience.
"You played yourself But did you did you did you really think that you could find love from someone else? You're making moves You're gonna lose You know you played yourself Now the game is over..... Game...over....."
The crowd roared, a sea of faces—almost like a torrent of masks at Maudi Grais perhaps. Totally wild. An intoxicating high—without the blood poisoning. Nsync finished the song in the spark of glory. They ran off the stage, JC yelling "Thank you." Of course they'd come back to do "Bye Bye Bye."
From her place in the dark tangle, she counted on it.
~*~
No hanging around this time. This place came alive at night, and they wanted to be part of it, as much as they were a part of the concert. Not be the stars. Just be. Entangled in a jumble of bodies grooving to some phantom music.
"You think that they'll get far?" the voice hummed over the speaker phone.
"No," she admitted. "They'll try." She pursed her black lips. "What does he say? His only word?"
"Yes. 'Soon.' It's giving me chills, his freaking mantra."
"Me too. But I can handle it," she purred.
"You're just lucky the Black goes with everything."
She agreed. "Especially the night."
~*~
They had their clubs. Their safety for a moment. They had their divisions—JC got tired, and Lance got bored. "This is not just the same town as any other. Can't we do something else?" he implored. JC and Lance left the club, with Justin in tow. They got on their bus. Justin claimed he needed some other distraction from missing Britney cuz the club scene was doing nothing for it. They said they'd be back to pick up Chris, Joey, and Dre later.
"So, where are we going?" Justin bounced, hopefully.
JC was staring out the window into the darkness.
Lance was reading his guidebook, looking. After a moment he said, "We could go to the French Quarter. There's some really interesting hauntings—"
Justin groaned.
"No, Lance. I think it's too late." JC said this without turning. The half ghost of his face reflected back at him through the window.
"Too late?" Lance repeated.
"Yes," JC replied slowly, his voice suddenly husky and dark. "For Rose. But you didn't—"
"Dude, what are you saying?" Justin whispered, beginning to get weirded out.
"I didn't know what you're talking about much?" Lance interrupted. JC didn't move.
Justin changed the subject. "Hey, we could go to Bayou St. John," he suggested. "That's where you wanted to go, right JC?" He chewed his lip. He hadn't forgotten JC's original reaction earlier in the day, though.
JC turned, giving a husky smile. But then he paled considerably. He half cleared his throat while stumbling over words. "Nah. That's okay."
"We don't have anything better to do," Lance insisted. "Let's go. We can take pictures. Capture the memory forever." After the words were out of his mouth, he scrunched up his eyes. What? Why'd I sat that for?
JC seemed to be sweating.
"C?" Justin touched JC's brow. The sweat was cold. His eyes narrowed. "Are you okay?"
"I'm fine." JC studied Justin's eyes. I can't say anything. He'll think I'm mad. JC furrowed his brow at the thought, wondering why he'd phrased it so 19th century-ish.
Justin flipped through Lance's guidebook. He snickered when he came to one of the stories. "Hey, Lance. Did you read this one? About the Naked Ghost?"
Lance's eyes grinned at Justin's childishness. He knew Justin was waiting for sordid details. "Actually, that one's kinda sad, Just. It's about this slave who's having an affair with her master, and he tells her if she can stay on his roof one full night in the middle of winter without clothes, he'll admit his love for her. She did it but of course she didn't survive. They had to pry her frozen body from the roof. Her master was shocked. It sounded like he loved her in his own sadistic way."
"Creepy," Justin commented, crossing his arms.
"We could still go to Bayou St. John," Lance persisted. He gazed at JC. "If you wanted."
JC gave an unreadable look. Finally, after some long strings of silence, he spoke. "Have you ever had a weird feeling? Like you've seen something before? Or know something but you can't really understand it? Like you don't know where the feeling comes from, but it feels familiar?"
"Like deja vu?"
"Yeah, kinda. It's kinda like—" he paused, and made a face. "Well, I don't know. Like there's a skeleton sitting next to me—with its arm around me. It's this cold, unearthly feeling." JC felt an arm tighten around his shoulder. He yelped and tried to scramble away.
"Geez," Justin said. "I didn't know I was getting that skinny." He poked his rib cage.
JC chuckled. He seemed to be a bit embarrassed.
"So," Lance wondered offhandedly, "who's Rose?"
"Hmm?"
"Before, you mentioned something about someone named Rose." He looked to Justin for help.
Justin nodded. "Yeah. You said something like 'it's too late for Rose.' But then you broke off."
JC looked bewildered. "Really? I don't remember saying that."
"So, what are we going to do now?—" Justin began. He was interrupted by a grinding metallic sequel. The bus swerved to one side. The lights went out. Justin and JC gripped the chair arms to keep from falling. Lance wasn't so lucky. He went down, and his book slid into the shadows.
"I'll check it out. You guys stay put," Lonnie ordered after the bus stopped. He rushed past them to the front of the bus.
"Whoa. That was weird. " Justin gazed at Lance on the floor with the help of a street light streaming through the window. "You okay, Poof?"
"I'm fine," Lance grumbled, searching blindly for the misplaced book.
JC looked out the window into the night. For a moment, he would have sworn he saw— Nah, he thought after a moment. Can't be....? He heard Lance's labored breathing in the dark. "Lance? Are you alright?"
"You know that creepy feeling you were talking about?"
"Yeah?"
"Yeah, well, I think I know what you mean."
Before JC could inquire further, a few lights flickered on, and Lonnie stomped back to where they were. He nearly tripped over Lance, who was still on the floor. He frowned. "Would you get up already?" Lance blushed sheepishly, gripping his book. He pulled himself up to the sofa. "Apparently, the driver says some black car cut him off. Like it came out of nowhere; like it was a piece of the night severed. Then it went back to its phantom world."
JC shivered unexpectedly. Lance felt unnerved again.
"We're gonna take a look at the engine," Lonnie continued, "so you guys can either stay and wait or—"
Justin hopped up, excited like a little child. "We can explore?"
Lonnie huffed. "Yeah. But stay close. I can't go with you. I gotta stay with the driver and help figure this out."
"Come one guys! I saw this X rated place down the street—" Justin began jokingly.
"No," JC countered before Justin could continue. Lance cracked a smile.
"I'm serious," Lonnie said gravely. "Stay close."
"Okay."
"Let's just take a little walk. There's a bunch of little shops on the corner."
They exited the bus, in disguises, and began to check the street out. Most of the places were closed, but they still looked in the windows. Eventually, they found a place that was open: a magic shop. Intrigued, JC got Lance and Justin to go in with him. A little bell attached to the door tinkled. There was no one in the front, but Lance got an odd sensation that they were not alone in this place.
"Hey. This is that voodoo stuff like in your book, Lance," Justin observed, looking around.
There was a multitude of books and charms just on voodoo alone.
JC strayed over to a table covered with skulls, reptiles, snakes, and embalmed scorpions. None of them were real—well, at least not any of the reptiles or snakes—they were rubber models. JC hoped the skulls were fake as well; he shivered at the thought. Nestled among the fake reptiles was a little bottle. JC picked it up. He tilted it back and forth. It was a strange honey color. He held it in front of his eyes.
An odd sensation caused Lance to become alert. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end.
A hand snaked around the dark corner opposite JC. Grappling, gnarled fingers curled tightly around his wrist. JC flinched and recoiled in horror. He let out a startled cry.
Lance dropped the book he had picked up on voodoo charms and spells, and a tarot deck slipped from Justin's fingers. Their eyes widened as they spun to face him. He was struggling to free himself. From Lance's line of vision, it appeared to be an awkward scene. JC's skin was white with fear as he twisted his arm, shaking it, trying to get it free. Gnarled fingers of another hand snatched the bottle from JC.
Justin's lips parted in surprise—JC looked terrified. As soon as the bottle was in the possession of the hands holding JC, the fingers released him. He shook himself free, backing away. He stared.
An old woman-like figure emerged from the shadows. She was shrieveled, bent with age, her face shivered with wrinkles. Her lips hung over half-toothless grin.
JC was still giving her a wild look. He couldn't shake the creepy feeling of her skin touching his—he had felt completely trapped, as if he was sinking....sinking into some very dark place. He couldn't scream because his lips were frozen....
The old woman wagged a calloused finger at JC. "This," she rasped, "this is not for you. You don't know about the powers in this little bottle."
JC visibly flinched. He felt violated. "I—I'm sorry," he stammered. "I—didn't know."
The old woman curled her steathy eyes at Lance and Justin.
Lance felt his blood run cold.
Justin bit his lip. The old woman's eyes were a tripped-out turquoise color that were filmy. She appeared to be blind, but Justin knew somehow she could still see. He averted her glance by dropping to the floor to retrieve the tarot deck. He placed it back on a table. "Look, we're sorry if we aren't supposed to be here. We thought your store was open. We'll just be going—"
"Silence, child," the old woman snapped. She set the bottle back among the skulls, and smoothed the kerchief over her white, feathery hair.
Justin eyed Lance. Lance half shrugged. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see that JC was shaking. Just a little bit. And he could sense—
"Tell me what you've come for," the old woman whispered hauntingly.
Lance choked back bile as he realized she was addressing him. He felt reduced. Some words came sit on his tongue. They grew soggy and heavy. "We, we just came to look around." He paused, unsure of what to say. He was shuffling the words, forcing them to make sense. Sense...(*) His lips parted, but he was overcome with an odd sensation—almost like a tightening in the back of his jaw. Without thinking about it, a hand flew to his mouth.
The old woman gaped. Justin realized this was her half-toothless grin. The old woman sauntered over to Lance, and, stooping further, retrieved the book of voodoo spells and charms. She shoved the book against his chest. Hard. "Do you know, my child of the South, what gris-gris? What mojo? Have you been to the Bayou, drinking blood of a rooster?" With each question, she got closer to his face.
Lance's face paled, and he began to sweat. Cold sweat. "No," he answered almost inaudibly.
"What you read in that book,"—she jabbed him with the edge of the book for emphasis—"hmm, child of the South?"
Lance felt his throat go dry as sand. He attempted to glance at JC. The old woman shot her free hand up, gripping his chin fiercely, forcing him to look at her.
JC recoiled in shock. He took a step forward. He had to get them out there—this woman was obviously mad or something.
Lance made no attempt to remove her cold-as-death hands. "I just skimmed—" He groaned softly as her yellowing nails dug into his flesh. He didn't lie. He spoke quickly. "I read something about this one ritual to drive a person crazy. Something about writing the person's name on an egg, that came from a black hen. Then they would throw the egg from a roof at the person."
Fiercely, the old woman released Lance. She still gripped the book.
Lance touched his chin. Her nails had gone in deep.
She wagged a finger at Justin. "These spells, they serious. They should not be tried by the unexperienced one."
"Look, lady, we weren't—" Justin began, beginning to feel unnerved. He wanted out, now.
"Bite your tongue!" the old woman's shrill voice rang.
Finally JC spoke up. "Look, we just came cuz no other places were open. We're leaving now cuz we don't enjoyed being attacked when we walk into a store."
"This ain't no store," the old woman strung out in a quietly dangerous tone. Her eyes followed JC as he joined Lance and Justin. He motioned towards the door. Lance and Justin acquiesced. "We do ritual here. They cross over."
"Yeah, I'll bet that's great lady, but if you touch any of us again, we're getting the cops," Justin said, trying to sound tough.
But the damage was already done.
JC pushed him out the door. Once outside, he gave Justin a look.
Lance said, "Why are you trying to provoke her, man? She's creepy enough."
Justin chewed his lip. "I dunno. I wanted the final say." He looked from Lance to JC. "Did she hurt you guys?"
Both Lance and JC colored slightly.
"Nah. Just freaked me out. I didn't know she was there and suddenly I was getting grabbed. It unnerved me for a second," JC admitted.
Unnerved.
Lance nodded. "Yeah." He smiled to give Justin the impression that everything was okay. "She was just messing with my mind, J." In truth, he was the tiniest bit scared.
"But why? What did you do to her?"
"It's probably just an un-tourist friendly place," JC added.
Justin bought that. "You know, the club where Chris and Joey and Dre are at is close by. Let's go get them, okay?" He had already gone ahead before JC or Lance could protest.
Once of Justin's sight, JC and Lance exchanged a meaningful and slightly frightened look. The old woman's touch had been more than just a physical one. It reached across a century, maybe more, just to scare them.
But why? Lance reiterated Justin's original question as he and JC caught up to Justin.
~*~
Back in the magic shop, half-light half-dark splayed the rooms. Small shreds of light spilled out of a paper lantern, and shadows skitted all over the shop. At the counter, the old woman hummed to herself. She smoothed the red kerchief over her white, billowing hair. She warmed her cold bones with the flesh touch of two strong youngbloods. Uncorrupted, mostly. She dug a few small samples of flesh from her yellowed nails. Her gnarled, dry fingers stroked a few strands of newly stolen hair. Her free hand grasped a crudely made doll.
A voodoo doll.
She hummed to herself, letting her mind drift.....
~*~
100 years ago....
He stormed out of the door. "I believed you, you witch! You lied to me!" The hatred streamed from his eyes like a rising fog. "You will rue the day—" he snapped, and then he was gone. The bells unharmously clattered against the door.
"No, my friend," a young woman hissed, also with eyes of deep hatred. "You will rue the day...."
~*~
At the club entrance, Justin slipped in, retrieving Joey and Chris within about 10 minutes. In his absence, JC and Lance discussed the odd encounter.
JC drooped his head a little. "I didn't want to say it in front of Justin, but that old woman scared me out of my mind."
Lance nodded, agreeing. "I know. And her touch—that wigged me out pretty bad."
A strained look appeared over JC's features. "I felt completely helpless, like I was frozen or something."
"Yeah. For a couple of moments, I thought she was going to take us hostage or something."
JC's mouth formed a thin line. "She could have, Scoop," he replied gravely.
Lance was suddenly encased in a full body shiver. "I just want to go back to the bus." He realized he probably sounded like a child afraid of the dark or of his own shadow.
But JC didn't see it that way. "Me too. As soon as Just gets back, we'll head there. Besides, I don't want Lonnie freaking out that we disappeared or something."
Lance touched his chin. "For a second there, I thought she was going to draw blood." He furrowed his brow.
JC stared at him. "What?"
"You know, she only grabbed me when I tried to look at you. Like you knew something that she didn't want me to know."
JC paused, thinking. "Maybe because she already touched me?" He faced an involuntary shiver.
Lance disagreed. "No. I think it was something else. Something more than that."
When Justin returned with Chris and Joey, who both looked mad/sad to have to leave, JC and Lance ceased the discussion. They wrote it off as momentary fear.
"Why, if the bus is messed up, do we have to go so soon?" Joey complained.
"Cuz Lonnie told us not to go too far. So if we bring you guys back, he can't crush us for, you know, not following his orders exactly," Justin replied, grinning
Chris sighed, throwing up his hands.
"Wait, where's Dre?" JC asked, stopping.
"He was right behind us," Chris told them. "He's coming. Let's start walking."
JC hesitated. He had a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. It was a pretty dark, late night. He didn't really want to go traipsing off without a bodyguard nearby. I just don't want to get attacked again, he thought. Lance seemed eager to get back to the bus though. Justin seemed antsy. He pointed—a large, dark shape was emerging from the inclined stairs of the club.
"See? That's gotta be Dre. Let's go C."
JC blinked. He knew Justin wouldn't say it out loud, at least not in front of all of them, that he was a little scared about what had happened back in the shop. Scared, because two of his brothers had been "roughed up" a bit while he watched. He was helpless too, JC realized.
They started walking, convinced that the looming shape was Dre who would be protecting them.
They passed several dark alleyways. "It's this way?" Chris yawned, pointing around a corner.
"You sure?" Joey tried to confirm, raising his eyebrows.
Justin nodded, though he wasn't exactly sure. They turned the corner.
JC's scalp began to prickle with aniexty.
It was an alleyway. A bit wider, with a bit more light in the dark, but still an alleyway at best.
Chris, who had been walking closest to JC, ran into him. "Why'd you stop, C?" he grumbled. Then he noticed JC shaking. That JC was looking past them into the shadows further ahead.
"Let's go back," Lance said suddenly, alarmed. He half turned, realizing that Dre was not with them. That he had never been.
It happened so fast. Headlights blasted the shadows, far ahead, as taillights were lit up like fireworks. The five of them were taken in complete horror and surprise. There was a metallic sound as two back windowless van doors opened.
"Run!" Justin hissed, backing up. He began panicking, his heart beating at an unnormal pace.
Shadowy large figures appeared from the blackness. They moved stealthily quick as black pearl sunsets, quick as death. And their Queen appeared among them. In fitted black. "That one," she hissed, pointing. The figures seemed to understand.
JC cried out as a huge hand gripped his arm, forcing it behind him. A cloth was forced over his mouth. Nearly instantly he felt light-headed.
Justin screamed, watching JC get attacked yet again in the same night. He barely felt the arms around him, pinning his arms to his sides. He thrashed about when he realized, trying to resist the cloth over his mouth. But once there, it was so inviting....
Chris yelled as he realized in the confusion what was half happening. A cloth was shoved immediately over his mouth, silencing him. An arm was wrenched behind him, hard. He used his free hand to try to pry the cloth from his mouth. He knew the smell. Chloroform. "Mmm! Mmph!" His cries grew weaker.
Joey's eyes widened. From where he was, he saw the others in trouble, but he couldn't see Lance. He felt his hands being restrained, but his kicked his assilant. "No! Lance! Run, if you can hear me!" He dodged the cloth, struggling. "Get help!" His attacker punched him in the stomach. Joey's torso slumped forward, and the sickenly-sweet scent traveled into his nose cavity. He, as did Chris, Justin, and JC, searched for Lance before they passed out. They watched the scene in terror.
Then the light fell on its captive. Lance was struggling frantically between two attackers, but no cloth was being applied to his face. "What do you want?" he demanded. They only gave him their silence.
A figure, clearly a woman, yet unfamiliar in the dark, approached his struggling form with something held by both hands. Lance twisted violently, shocked at what was happening. Even though he wasn't being drugged, he seemed to be coming apart from his mind. He felt dizzy. Then, something sticky was crudely secured over his mouth. Duct tape, he realized. It stretched nearly from ear to ear. After his four brothers were silenced and he was efficiently gagged, the figures holding his wrists behind his back released him. Queenie shoved him to his knees onto the rough pavement. Before he could regain his stability, he was grabbed again by the wrists.
Though colored dots were moving in front of his eyes, Joey was still enough with it to winced when he heard the sound of metal clicking around metal.
Lance's eyes widened with surprise. He attempted to move his hands, but they were handcuffed behind his back. He protested in muffled cries as he was dragged from his brothers' sight. But their eyes, the mixture of terror, confusion, shock, anger, and pure undulated astoshiment would be forever burned into his mind. He continued to grapple as he came to the stark realization that this wasn't a joke. It was a kidnapping. His. He didn't understand why he was the only one getting abducted. The darkness of the van closed over him as he was hauled in. A figure hopped in, pulling the doors closed. Lance was breathing hard. His eyes worked over fear, bouncing everywhere yet only perceiving darkness.
Outside, JC, Justin, Chris, and Joey grew limp in their captors' grasps.
"Thank you for your help, gentlemen," the woman figure lilted. She nodded briefly.
"What about them?" the one holding Chris rasped.
"Leave them. I've got what I've come for."
The four holding the boys released them into the waiting arms of madness. There was no gentle sink. They fell in a crumpled heap, a pile of bodies, onto the unforgiving pavement. All alone on the dark streets of New Orleans. The figures climbed into the van; it speeding off into the waiting dark of the alleyway.
The woman figure gave the bodies of the four remaining Nsyncers the once over. She toed JC with her black high heel. He didn't stir. Satisfied, she applied the dark over her shadows, vanishing.