We put Odette's body into the trunk of Nate's SUV, still covered by my GARDA jacket.
It was a very somber drive back to Brigette's funeral procession; nobody said much. Nate told us a little of how it had gone down before we arrived on scene.
Nate had been idly watching television on the couch, while Odette was sleeping on a sofa opposite him. Suddenly and without warning, a gigantic creature, the aforementioned Fomorian, smashed in the side of Odette's house, grabbed her body and ripped off her head, tossed it in a sack, which Nate explained was seized and taken away by a strange creature of evidently Japanese origin. A "Jinkiniki" or something like that. I'll have to have Nate write it down for me later. Anyway, it made off with Odette's head; Nate gave chase but it got away, unfortunately. Nate had next had to fight the big, ugly Fomorian mano a mano for several rounds before we showed up to assist.
We left Odette's body in the van, knowing full well we would have to reveal it to Baron Samedi before the night was over.
It was now time to open the crypt where Brigitte's mortal coil would find its final resting place. The massive stone slab was moved aside and quite unexpectedly a huge swarming mass of black flies erupted volcanically and loudly from the crypt, and just as suddenly dissipated as the individual flies took off in all directions into the thick, humid night air.
Gunnar-as-Baron turned to us with a look of surprise on his face and said "Dis not good...dis not good at all...."
Moments later there was a commotion inside the church, and people of all races ran out clenching their stomachs, holding hands over their mouths, and one guest, clearly an Irishman, puked into the bushes beside the steps leading up to the church sanctuary. That set off a chain reaction of vomiting from seemingly every normal mortal in sight. I suspected an overdose of Guinness on the part of my fellow countryman, but that wouldn't account for everyone else. I then felt self-conscious about my own concoction, but I remember Jack had sampled it and gave me a thumbs up and said "...better than I expected, Irish..."
When we went inside the church, we noted that all of the food laid out had suddenly gone rancid, as if it had been left out to spoil for weeks on end.
Gunnar-as-Baron joined us and first muttered "ok, ok...", as if conversing internally with himself.
Gunnar-as-Baron surveyed the scene and said "dis has been by de Magick, no doubt...is what your friend the Gunnar say..."
We brought Gunnar-as-Baron back to the van, and I lifted my GARDA jacket to reveal Odette's headless corpse. Nate and Laurel explained what had happened and Gunnar-as-Baron just shook his head slowly..."Dis a bad sign. No good come of dis."
Brigette was laid to rest by Father O'Connell, an Irish-American priest who had kept his wits about him throughout this ordeal, and by members of Brigitte's community who had not been in the church but had stayed behind. It was an awkward ending to the funeral, but the job was done. I explained to Father O'Connell about the tragic death of Odette that same evening and he re-assured me he would do everything he could to see that she, too, was laid to rest respectfully in accordance with her wishes. He also re-assured me that he would explain to the Irish community that this calamity was of unnatural origin and that I was not to blame.
We returned to our hotel rooms with feelings of restlessness and unease. Gunnar, Laurel and I agreed that we wanted to have a closer look at the creature tracks Jack had discovered on his way into New Orleans. The next day we headed out, backtracking Jack's original route. We discovered them, but for me personally, I was none the wiser seeing it in person than I was looking at the image sent to me on my phone by Jack. But luckily we did have a very crafty Raven with us this time. Gunnar also came to the realization that this was a bipedal creature.
"Not only that," said Nevermore. "I think I can track it down and find it, if you want."
It was certainly an intriguing notion, but before we could discuss it, a radio broadcast cut in announcing that some kind of violent riots were erupting in Jackson Park, in the middle of New Orleans. Laurel pulled up local television footage on her smart phone and we saw three giant Fomorians and another, smaller figure, doing much violence to mortals very near Jackson Park.
Laurel grabbed Gunnar by the arm and said firmly "You need to drive like James Bond"
We piled into the car and sped off like a shot, racing as fast as Gunnar could push the engine without blowing it.
We received a text message from Jack informing us he was already on the scene and for us to get there as soon as possible.
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