Deaths Excellent Vacation

I stopped on the doorstep, breathing deeply of the diesel- laden, slightly smoggy, damp, and mildew-smelling air of Paris that I knew and loved. “Paris at last,” I repeated happily, then took one step down to the street, and was promptly grabbed by a couple of strong- armed thugs and tossed into the back of an unmarked black van.
    “Fires of Abaddon!” I shouted into someone’s armpit. I didn’t see whose until I was rudely shoved backward with a word that the speaker should have been ashamed of. “What the . . . Hey! Don’t I know you?”
    “Get off me!” The woman who was on the floor of the van kicked out at me as she got to her feet and took a seat on the bench that ran along one side of the van. “Effrijim! I thought I detected the stench of a demon.”
    “Ow! No kicking the codpiece! Until I get put back into my normal form, this package is all I have. Anyen? What in the name of Bael’s ten toes are you doing here? I thought you ghedes only hung out in the Caribbean. What are you doing in Paris?”
    “What do you think I am doing?” Anyen answered. She was tall and thin, her skin as black as midnight, dressed in a long black coat and wearing black glasses, and possessing a very cool Haitian accent. “I’m here to collect revenants, of course. We’re building an undead army, and it’s impossible to do that in Haiti anymore. Ever since that damned Internet became popular, everyone knows how to protect themselves from us. It’s almost more than a decent, hardworking soul-stealer can bear, let me tell you!”
    She sniffled just like she was going to cry, but everyone knew ghedes couldn’t cry. It had something to do with their origins.
    “Yeah, well, life’s tough all over. Take mine, for instance,” I said, pulling myself up to the opposite bench. The van we were in had a solid wall between the cargo and driver’s area, but judging by the motion, I gathered we were en route to somewhere. “One minute I’m on vacation, about to see the love of my life, and the next—whammo. It all goes to Abaddon. Who nabbed us, do you know?”
    She spat out a word that I figured wasn’t very nice. “That new Venediger. I heard that she was cleaning up Paris, kidnapping innocent beings just because we have dark origins. She has squads of her minions watching the portal shops, abducting anyone she doesn’t deem fit to be in the mortal world. It is outrageous, a violation of my rights, and I shall most definitely be complaining to the Akashic League about it! Only they have the right to hold a ghede, and they would not be so foolish to do so.”
    “Oh, the Venediger,” I said, relaxing. “Jovana. No sweat, then. We’re old buds, we are. My demon lord helped put her in power. I’m sure once she knows it’s me her goon squad picked up, she’ll have me released.”
    Anyen made a face like she didn’t believe me at all, and said nothing more till we arrived at a hoppin’ nightclub named Goety and Theurgy.
    “Ah, G&T,” I said as the two guys who nabbed me hauled me inside the club. Two others emerged to bring Anyen. “Brings back old memories. Hey, there’s a buffet here now? Can we swing by it? I’m starving.”
    The bully boys didn’t stop. They just hauled me past the buffet, past the dance floor, and down a dimly lit flight of stairs to an equally dimly lit basement.
    “Guys? The V is an old buddy of mine. You might want to tell her that it’s me you have, so she doesn’t get too pissed with you when she finds out you’re doing this.”
    Neither man said anything.
    “Name’s Jim. Well, Effrijim, really, but that’s kinda girly, so I just go with Jim. Jovana knows me.”
    They still didn’t say anything. They hauled me across the basement and, without one single word, dumped me into a small room, tossed Anyen in after me, and slammed the door shut.
    “I will have your heads for this!” she bellowed as they locked the door. She pounded on it, making all sorts of threats, but eventually she stopped and glared at me.
    “Why are you looking at me like that?” I asked, kicking aside a cardboard box and plopping down on a dirty-looking cot that sat in the corner. “I didn’t lock us in here.”
    “The Venediger is your friend. You said she was.”
    “Maybe they’re going up to tell her who I am,” I said, rubbing my sore toes. Box-kicking while you’re barefoot isn’t the best of ideas. “Maybe they’ll be back all groveling and with plates of buffet food in an attempt to