#lulas's randomness | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

uzumaki-rebellion · 4 days ago

Text

"There's Some Whores in This House" Geechee!Erik Killmonger (Part 2 of Ice Cold Jax)

Pairing: Geechee!Erik Killmonger x Black Female OC x Hoodoo!Terry Richmond (as the Crossroads Man)

Warning(s): 18+, Smut, Supernatural Horror, Period Piece, Erik Stevens AU, Terry Richmond AU, Black American Folktale. You have to read "Ice Cold Jax" First!

Summary:

P-Valley Meets Black Supernatural Goodness in 1940s Itta Bena, Mississippi as the second world war winds down to a close. Lulabelle hasn't seen her Geechee man for months, but there's a new whorehouse deep in the woods that's keeping her busy as they steal loyal customers from her juke joint and her stable of working girls. Lulabelle suspects the new Madame in the woods has something to do with Geechee Erik not coming around anymore and she intends on finding out what that heffa is all about, especially when previous customers start dropping dead near the crossroads. An old friend of Erik's, Terry Richmond aka High John the Conqueror, shows up to help. (Need to have read the first installment, "Ice Cold Jax With Geechee!Erik Killmoger")

Word count: 12.9K

youtube

"There's some whores in this house

There's some whores in this house

There's some whores in this house..."

Frank Ski – "Whores in this House"

The first dead body appeared at the crossroads after the rising of Hunter's moon.

No one thought much of it because the deceased was a known pickpocket and rabble-rouser named Earl Lee Washington. Folks around Itta Bena didn't pay it no mind for about a week until they found another body in the exact same spot in the middle of a Saturday night. This time it was Reverend Mosley from the Hopewell Missionary Baptist Church and people fell out because why was Reverend Mosley out near the crossroads? The only thing around in that part of the woods was a creek for good fishing, and Lulabelle Humphreys juke joint and whorehouse called "Lula's". Since Mosley didn't have any fishing pole on him in the middle of the night, that only meant that he had been tippin' over to Lulabelle's place pretending to save lost souls for Jesus as he felt up a thick thigh or two with moonshine on his lips.

Lulabelle herself thought little about the dead men. Everybody had their time to go, but that third body stirred everybody up because it was a woman. Zadie Greene was married to Butchie Greene who worked as a Pullman Porter for the railroad. He had emptied his pockets at Lulabelle's on good pussy and strong corn liquor while listening to the hottest backwoods band on that side of the Mississippi River, The Midnight Ramblers featuring Gertie Mae Robinson, the nastiest woman singer to ever touch a stage with her vulgar lyrics and raunchy, good-time energy. The man stumbled across his own wife's body on the way home smelling like another woman's cooch and marijuana. Zadie had worn her J. C. Penney nightgown and a big overcoat hunting for her man and headed for the only place that could keep him from her bed.

The cow shit hit the fan then. Lulabelle couldn't afford folks getting spooked by the specter of death hanging near her establishment. She was an enterprising woman who sold a commodity that folks craved, whether they wanted to admit it. Death was terrible for the pussy business.

Zadie's death hung a pall over the town, and Lulabelle became worried once she started counting up days and putting two and two together. Her Geechee Man, Erik Stevens, hadn't been around for a long time. There might be a random shooting or stabbing that left a man wounded and his ego bruised for a few weeks, but rarely did folks outright die under mysterious circumstances. She became extra concerned when the problem hovered around his territory. Geechee Erik was the Crossroads Man. His dominion was the protection of the supernatural world and preventing otherworldly beings from coming around her. He had claimed Lulabelle as his woman and promised that no harm would come to her, and part of that harm wasn't just physical. Her livelihood meant everything to her. Erik kept the haints, boo hags, the Plat Eye, and the Devil away.

Something must've happened to him.

She fretted about it, reading the paper on the latest victim while sitting on her juke joint's front porch. Honey Boy, her part-time male whore for sweet men, rolled her hair in long metal duckbill clips. She had taken a liking to tight curls all around her head with a side part, and it wore her fingers out, putting the curlers in herself. Honey Boy curled and clipped and she stared at a church photo of Zadie Greene, a plain-faced woman with a big heart and four children to feed by herself now that her husband was gone. Lulabelle tutted under her breath.

"Business is already slowing up. I don't need dead people scaring off my money," she grumbled.

The war had ended and all the men in uniform were coming home once V Day had been declared. Dollar bills sat on Lulabelle's eyelids every day. The boom was heavy for an entire year until recently as it trickled off to regulars and the occasional cross-country traveler.

"If you ask me, ain't none of this mess started happening until them other ladies showed up," Honey Boy said as he twined hair around the clips with nimble fingers.

"What ladies?"

Lulabelle put down the paper and twisted her neck around to stare at Honey Boy.

"You ain't hear? There's a new madame in town. I hear she's got some of the finest women around. No one wanted to say nothin' to hurt your feelings, Lula."

"Eva!" Lulabelle shouted.

Eva, the juke joint cook, and barmaid stepped out onto the creaky porch. She smelled of fish grease and her fingers were covered in cornmeal.

"Why are you hollerin' like that?" Eva said, putting a heavy cornmeal hand on her plump hip.

The older woman looked crossed at being interrupted with her work.

"You know about some new woman setting up shop out here?"

"Sadie Blackstone," Eva said.

"Sadie Blackstone?" Lulabelle said.

"That's what she said her name was. She come 'round here about three months ago. You were in town shopping, and she come right up here introducing herself. She had a big ole fur coat and a fancy car too, filled with pretty girls. She got all the colors of the rainbow, just like you."

"Ain't not one of you heffas think to tell me some new bitch is horning in on my spot?"

Lulabelle swatted Honey Boy's hand out of the back of her scalp.

"She said she was opening a little dress and hat boutique over yonder. It was cheaper than tryna rent a building from the white folks and house her dressmakers in town. She looked all expensive and was using big words like she done came from up North. Y'know how them northern negroes like to act uppity," Eva said.

"That bitch rolled up here with a car full of hoes and everybody kept their lips shut? I oughta fire both of y'all right now!"

"Who 'gon fry up this fish then, gal?" Eva said, staring Lulabelle down.

"Y'all supposed to be loyal and warn me about interlopers. They sitting out there stealing my customers and taking money outta my purse... and yours."

"They ain't got no mens, so I'ma be alright," Honey Boy said.

He left the porch and went inside the juke joint to set tables and prep glasses for the night. Dust kicked up from the slope of the road that led to Lula's, and a black car rolled toward them.

"What is it now?" Lulabelle said. "Betta not be someone telling me they found another body at the crossroads or I will scream!"

Lulabelle and Eva waited on the porch until the car stopped twenty feet away from them.

"Lawd, Jesus," Eva said.

Eva kissed the cross around her neck and grabbed the knob to the screen door.

"Wait now, who that is?" Lulabelle said.

Her heart skipped a beat thinking it was Geechee Erik, but instead, another man with honey, caramel skin, and piercing green eyes that hid a dangerous cunning behind them approached the porch. His dark brown suit was tailored, crisp, and casket sharp. The brim on his head was stylish and new, with a small peacock feather in the band.

"You don't wanna mess with that one, Lulabelle," Eva whispered. "That there is High John the Conqueror."

"The conjure man from over in Yazoo?"

"He more than that. Send him on his way, and don't let him come inside!" Eva said.

Eva ran into the juke joint and locked the door. Lulabelle wasn't worried; she had keys to get inside clipped to her dress. She turned and faced High John.

"Sorry to bother you, Miss. I'm not from around these parts. I'm lookin' for a fella that goes by the name of Erik Stevens."

Lulabelle stayed on the porch. Something told her to stay there and not step down to the man. As fine and polite as he was, there was sinister energy around him. He stepped forward, and she held a hand up.

"You can stay right there, mister. I can hear you good from here," she said.

"He's a big strapping fellow, about your color. Not as pretty, though."

"Whatcha want with him?"

"You know him?"

"I know the Geechee Man," she said.

There was no sense in lying. The man came there directly, so he clearly knew Erik's stomping grounds. The Geechee wasn't human, so that man on her property probably wasn't human, either. Lula stepped closer to the door and kept her eyes on High John.

"Whatcha want with him?" she repeated in a firmer tone.

"I ain't seen him in a long time and that ain't so good for my business," High John said.

Lulabelle was worried herself.

"He hasn't been around here for a couple of months," she said.

"You're worried about him. You his woman?"

"I am."

"Hmmm. I see why he likes it around here so much. Big fine woman like you to lay up with."

Lulabelle's cheeks warmed up. High John moved in closer.

"Big hips. Big titties. Big legs. You sure you didn't swallow him up between your thighs, beautiful?"

Lulabelle squinted at the audacity.

"Maybe I need to spend some time with you and follow where he went," High John purred.

"You best move along, sir!" Eva shouted.

She ran out of the juke joint and flung a bowl of salt on the ground in front of High John. He chuckled and kicked black dirt over the white grains.

"That don't work on me, ma'am, but I respect your efforts," High John said.

He tipped his hat at Lulabelle.

"I'll be back around again. I can smell his scent all around here. Tell Elizabeth I may need her services soon," he said.

He hopped into his car and drove off.

"Who is Elizabeth?" Eva asked.

"Just an old friend of mine," Lulabelle said with a chill running down her back.

Elizabeth had been dead for nearly two decades. But her ghost still lingered around Lulabelle's juke joint and whore house.

Something awful bad must've happened to Erik, and none of that trouble started until Sadie Blackstone showed up in Itta Bena. Ghosts, the Crossroads Man, High John, and a northern bitch stealing her customers had her thoughts in a tizzy. Lulabelle wanted to sell pussy and moonshine in peace. That's what she aimed to do. She marched herself to her bedroom attached to the back of the whorehouse to find her best dress and shoes. It was time to meet Sadie Blackstone. Her mind was on her money, and money was on her mind twenty-four seven. No northern hussy was going to ruin her pockets. If she had to fight haints and conjure men, so be it. She lived in goddamned racist America. Money was the only thing that would protect her, and since Erik Stevens wasn't around anymore, she'd have to face the enemy all by herself. Human or not.

The new whorehouse was within walking distance of the crossroads.

Lulabelle trampled through the heavily trafficked path of grass and fall leaves that led past tall loblolly pines. She curved around a few rotting snag trees and swatted away annoying gnats that buzzed around her eyes seeking moisture. A clearing opened up and she expected to see a ramshackle house. Instead, a sturdy tan and brown craftsman home came into view. Lulabelle stayed hidden behind a trio of skinny trees. Although it was daylight, the house gave off a cold dread that overtook the warmth of the sun toasting her skin.

The land they were on used to be part of a plantation with an old manor that had long burned down to the ground four miles away. It had now become part of the overgrown woods. An unfinished stretch of railroad tracks sat near the property covered with overgrown brush that ran out behind the creek it tried to follow a long time ago. The train route that was supposed to pass through and flatten out that part of the woods never came into fruition, having been moved a couple of miles away by the railroad company. It was the main reason why Lulabelle picked that part of Itta Bena to do business in. Close enough for travelers far and wide to get to her, while also discreet enough to hide from main street's conservative prying eyes. The Choctaw words "itta bena" meant a house in the woods or a camp of trees, and the area lived up to the small city name. Shrouded with the canopy of branches and leaves protecting it from sunlight, the house looked out of place. Unnatural. Only decomposing trees belonged out there, and the whorehouse reminded Lulabelle too much of the Hansel and Gretel story from her childhood. Sadie Blackstone's place was a lure for straggling adults. Instead of a house made of candy and gingerbread, grown-ups came to taste the nectar between the legs of lascivious women. In the light of day, Lulabelle shivered and wondered if it was better to come back with other people. Being alone in the woods with a pristine house that looked too new, too bright, and so wrong brought goosebumps to her arms. She twisted her hands in the pockets of her dress.

Dollar bills weighed on her eyelids again and Lulabelle shook away her unease and focused on her task. Meet the enemy. Better to do it in the daytime when she could see everything out in the open.

She stomped her way to the house and marched right up onto the porch. Banging on the screen door, she waited with bated breath for someone to open up. Tapping her left heel on the porch, Lulabelle sucked her teeth and slammed a hand on her hip. She noticed the door frame had a thick lump of brown paint that bubbled up from a cheap paint job. Running her nail against the paint, Lulabelle peeled back a strip and crinkled her nose when a few termite larvae squirmed inside a rotted hole.

"Well, hello, neighbor," a silky feminine voice crooned behind the opened door.

Lulabelle squinted to get a good look at the tall, pretty, dark-skinned woman with a heart-shaped face and a bright, winning smile. Her teeth were whiter than the cracker cops that took a cut of Lulabelle's money to look the other way with her establishment. Naturally thick eyebrows were plucked perfectly over deep-set, dark brown eyes that twinkled with the promise of a good time or some good trouble. Her lush lips were covered in a thick coating of red lipstick. Lulabelle admired a dark woman who was brave enough to wear bold red like that in the daytime. It wasn't the norm.

"You must be Lulabelle Humphreys."

"I am."

"I'm Sadie. Sadie Blackstone."

"I knows who you are."

"Do ya now?"

Sadie opened the screen door in a welcoming manner. She wore a tight, spaghetti-strapped wild berry pink dress with a rose-tinted flower brocade. Lulabelle looked over Sadie's shoulder and observed a slithering den of good-looking women of all hues staring back at her from settees and chairs spread around an inviting front room.

"Heard you been stealing my customers," Lulabelle said, cutting to the quick.

"Stealing?"

Sadie tilted her head back to her stable of whores.

"You hear that, ladies? She accused me of stealing," Sadie said with an indignant chortle.

The other vipery women giggled back at the comment, infuriating Lulabelle.

"Sister girl, there are plenty of men in the world to go around for everybody," Sadie said.

"This is Itta Bena. Not the world, Toots. I've been selling pussy by the pound for five good years here, and I'm fixin' to keep on selling for many more years to come. This city ain't big enough for two cat houses—"

"Calm down your garters, Sister girl. The war overseas is done. No need to start World War three up in here. There's profit to be made for all of us. Plus, I hear you only sell pussy on the side. You got a juke joint, sell fish and chicken plates, provide musical entertainment… all we do over here are tits and ass. Nobody is cutting in on your profits."

Lulabelle reared her head back.

"You think you're gonna sit up here on my turf, comfortable as if pilfering a few coins ain't cutting into my bottom line?" Lulabelle said.

"You need a drink to cool down your temper. Come on up in here," Sadie said.

She opened the screen door and stepped aside, making room.

Lulabelle hesitated. But curiosity got the better of her. She switched her heavy hips into the place, letting Sadie see what down-home ass looked like in a tight dress too. The scarf she had on her head kept her curled hair safe from dust and debris in the woods.

The interior was larger than what the outside first impression gave her. In fact, the hall behind Sadie looked long enough for more rooms than Lulabelle's little whorehouse had back on the creek. The other women gazed at her with disquieting eyes while wearing red satin robes inside the cooler front room. Velvet furniture, Persian rugs, and stylish French alabaster boudoir lamps decorated the place. It had more of a European parlor flavor than a typical country house full of ill repute and cheap goods. Glancing around at the women again, Lulabelle felt more like a Brer Rabbit surrounded by hungry trickster coyotes. She swallowed hard and broke eye contact by staring at a fireplace mantle covered with several mason jars filled with moonshine. She counted ten jars across the top. Six were full, and the other four were empty. Next to the mantle was a liquor table filled with whiskey and assorted libations with fancy glass cups.

Sadie jerked her head toward her stable, and all four women stood up and sauntered to the back of the house.

"Too early for the hard stuff," Lulabelle said, waving at the mason jars.

Sadie grinned and picked up an expensive bottle of scotch. She poured herself a glass and one for Lulabelle, too. They clinked glasses, and Lulabelle took a small sip.

"Excuse me for a moment," Sadie said.

The woman left the front room to go to the back of the house. Lula put her glass of scotch down and inspected the oil painting above the mantle. It was a picture of Sadie and her women. All four of the whores sat on a baby blue and cream tufted French sofa with old-fashioned hairdos that Lulabelle hadn't seen since her grandmother had been alive. Sadie stood behind them, leaning forward with her arms draped across the back of the sofa. The painting unnerved her, and she couldn't put her finger on what exactly bothered her about it.

One of the clear jars filled with liquid caught her eye with movement inside of it. The sixth jar in the row had a tiny funnel swirl inside of it. It stopped when Lulabelle stared directly at it. She slipped her right hand around the jar. It was warm to the touch and seemed to grow warmer against her fingertips. She took her left hand and twisted the metal lid, breaking a seal around it. Lifting the lid, Lulabelle took in a whiff of sulfur, and clearly and distinctly heard a gravelly voice whisper from inside of it.

"Erik?" she murmured.

Another tiny funnel swirled, and Lulabelle watched the shape of Erik's lips and nose materialize in the liquid.

The clicking of heels moving toward the front room frightened her, and she twisted the lid back on the jar, going against her urge to pour the liquid out. She grabbed her glass of scotch and moved over toward a velvet chair, pretending to admire the texture by stroking it with her free hand.

"Had to see about some things. Forgive me for leaving you so long. I'm expecting a friendly crowd tonight," Sadie said.

Lulabelle turned to her and kept a tight-lipped expression. Sadie's eyes slid off of Lulabelle's face and glanced over at the mantle. Her dark eyes squinted for a second as she regarded the mason jars. Sadie shook her head and clucked her tongue.

"Just had to be nosy," Sadie hissed. "Good thing is, Sister girl, there's plenty of room up there."

The four other women slinked back into the parlor and surrounded Lulabelle.

"You like seeing thangs you ain't supposed to see, huh?" Sadie said.

Lulabelle watched the skin of Sadie's face grow puffy like a bullfrog getting ready to croak a loud belch in the creek. The flesh split like it wanted to turn itself inside out, letting her see the raw red insides of a slippery horror.

Sadie's hypnotic gaze kept Lulabelle's feet from running. Frozen in place by the menacing darkening of Sadie's eye color, Lulabelle couldn't even make a sound of protest. Her vocal cords became stiff and immovable. She couldn't even wiggle her fingers or toes. Only her eyeballs still had the ability to move, and they made a slow arc toward the open front door. A car had pulled up, and she prayed it was a customer who could help her escape.

The sound of a driver's side door creaking open shattered the quiet terror oozing all around Lulabelle. The crunch of heavy feet stepping on loose gravel became music to her straining ears.

"Hello?"

The male voice was familiar.

High John.

"Shit," Sadie grumbled.

The distraction freed Lulabelle, and she fled out of the house, leaping off the porch toward High John. He grabbed her arms to halt her frazzled getaway.

"Slow down now," High John said.

"They did something to me," Lulabelle blurted out.

She pushed her face into his chest to muffle her voice.

"Erik is in there. They have him in a jar on the mantle—"

"Shh," High John said.

"She's turning inside out… that woman… Sadie… her face…"

High John gripped her arms tighter as Lulabelle glanced around the woods and noticed that the sun had gone down already. It was only nine in the morning when she left her place, but by the looks of the darkening shadows stretching a night sky across the canopy of trees, it had to be at least five in the evening. They had her in that house for hours, and she didn't even know it.

Lulabelle squeezed her eyes shut. The screen door slammed loud and High John turned his attention to Sadie.

She looked normal again.

The deception lingered around her as Lulabelle watched the woman pat her cheeks like it was hot instead of making sure her cheeks had returned to their artful disguise.

"Let's go," Lulabelle pleaded, tugging on High John's arm and dragging him toward his car.

"Can I help you, mister?" Sadie inquired.

All four of Sadie's women stepped onto the porch with her, their satin robes discarded to show off sexy lingerie that highlighted their best assets.

"No ma'am, just came to pick up Miss Lulabelle here. Promised her a ride back," High John said.

He opened the passenger door for Lulabelle, and she scrambled in and slammed it shut.

"We're gonna be late," Lulabelle said, rushing High John along.

"A fine man like you should spend some time with us. I have a quality selection of ladies to choose from," Sadie said.

"I can see that you do, but I'm a little sweet on Miss Lulabelle's place," he said.

"Hmph. Suit yourself then. When you tire of your usual, come on back around here," Sadie said.

"Will do," High John offered.

He walked to his driver's door with a bounce in his step and hopped in with a whistle on his lips. They drove away without speaking until he reached a turn that led them riding over the crossroads towards her place. High John pulled over near a shrub of red buckeye that hid them from her juke joint. He stared at her, and she remembered he wasn't what he seemed to be, either.

"How did you know I was there?" she asked.

"I followed you."

"Why?"

"I knew you would lead me to the Geechee Man. Tell me what you saw in there."

"They gotta be witches or something—"

"A hag. She's a hag. Close enough to witches, I guess, for you to understand. The others are her minions, demons she's conjured up to act like whores to lure human bodies so the hag can ride them until they're dead."

"She's got a bunch of mason jars on her fireplace mantle filled with clear sulfur water or something. I opened one of them and heard Erik's voice… saw his features through the glass like they trapped him inside of it."

"She trapped his soul in there. What you described is something they do after they've taken a body."

"When she caught on that I had messed with one jar, her face… it started changing like it was flipping itself around… inside out."

High John sat back in his seat.

"He done got himself in a mess of trouble."

"He's still alive though, right?" she asked with a wavering voice.

"Only because he ain't mortal. Them other jars are dead souls. Little mementos for the hag to enjoy as playthings. That's why so many people have been found dead at the crossroads. Somehow, they tricked Erik and stole his spirit, leaving the crossroads unguarded for months. They can't kill him outright. But they can torture him… weaken him until he fades."

"Can you save him? Steal the jar and free him? I opened it, but I didn't know what to do. I was so scared."

"She cast a spell to keep him trapped. The problem is, even if you found that jar, we don't know where his body is. He uses a corporeal form to hide his essence, which helps him control his powers in this world. Without it, he can't come back."

"What the hell kinda powers do you have, then? Eva acts like you're the devil himself. She's scared of you, so you must can do somethin'."

"Sadie will come for you tonight. She can't afford for you to run your mouth about her house. I say, run your business as usual, and let me figure out a way to guard this place and find Erik."

Worry lines creased his face.

"What?" Lulabelle said.

"We ain't got much time. He can't be away from his body too much longer. It'll degrade over time, and it's already been three months on the mortal side of the veil."

"Veil?"

"This side of the spiritual partition separating humankind and us."

"What are you? Another demon? Haint?"

High John ignored her and appeared to listen to something she couldn't hear.

"Carry me up to my place so I can fix my hair and change my clothes," Lulabelle demanded.

High John nodded and put his car back in drive. They rode along in silence to the side of the juke joint where some of the band members she hired had already parked. Lulabelle jumped out and High John followed her. He stopped at the front porch and reached for a leather string around his neck. He pulled on it until a small blue handkerchief bundle the size of half a man's fist popped up. Untying it carefully, his nimble fingers reached inside and he pulled them back out. Brick-red dust colored his digits. High John squatted and traced a symbol in the dirt before walking all around the juke joint, pouring more dust on the ground. There shouldn't have been enough to circle the juke joint, but somehow, someway, the man completed the circle and sealed it back in front of the porch again. He tucked the mojo bag under his clothes again and clapped his hands together hard. The sound echoed all around, even scaring an old hooting owl that lived in a tree behind Lulabelle's Loving Rooms, where her clientele got busy with her girls after chowing down on chicken or fish.

"This spell will only last as long as the moon stays high. Once it drops… if we don't find The Geechee's body before moonset… my protective circle fades and they can leave the juke joint. He'll be a goner for sure then. Lost forever if we don't get that jar and man back together," High John said.

He turned his head toward the woods from where they came.

"Once the hag and her demons cross over this circle and go into your place, they're stuck inside until the moon goes away. That'll give us time to sneak back to their house and get Erik."

"We?"

"Yes, we. You opened the jar and broke the seal. That means you're the only one who can get him out."

"But we have to find his body first."

"That's where Elizabeth comes in."

"How do you know about her?"

High John winked at Lulabelle.

"I have my ways. Take me to her."

"I can't see her. I just get a feeling—"

"Take me to where you feel her the most," he said.

Lulabelle glanced at the juke joint.

"Eva said not to let you inside," she said.

"What would she rather have? Me helping you, or that hag stealing Erik's soul and ruining your business with all the body snatchin' she's been doin'?"

Lulabelle huffed and headed up the steps.

"C'mon, man."

High John followed her into the juke joint where the Midnight Ramblers were already set up on the small stage.

"Lula, gal, where ya been?" Gertie Mae said.

The lead singer of the Ramblers fussed her way over to Lulabelle.

"Honey Boy said you went to check out your competition, but when he went lookin' for ya, he couldn't find you," Gertie Mae said.

Gertie Mae looked at the scarf covering Lulabelle's hair.

"You not even dressed and ready yet. What's going on, girl?"

"Got busy with some business stuff. I'ma go get ready. Y'all get that music jumping and let these folks know that the party is starting!" Lulabelle said, flicking her right hand in the air.

She hustled High John away from Gertie Mae's prying eyes and took him to the back of the joint, where her usual seat was to watch the place in progress. Glancing around the area, Lulabelle threw out her hands.

"This is where I usually—"

She turned toward High John, catching him conversating with thin air. Lulabelle watched him talk in a hushed tone, pull out his mojo bag again, reach into it, and blow red brick dust in front of a chair. She glimpsed a ghostly figure, a woman with wavy long hair, and blinked back a tear or two as a bit of dust fell into her eyes.

"You should go get yourself gussied up, Lula. I freed Elizabeth to go find Erik's body," High John said.

He looked around the place as some customers high-stepped it inside just as the band struck up a hot, nasty jig that got folks hopping around before they even had their first drink. Honey Boy rushed over to her, and Lulabelle waved him away.

"I'm fine. Get these people liquored up and I'll get dressed," she said.

Gertie Mae eyed High John up and down one last time and yelled into her microphone.

"You gon' let that one hang his drawers low for ya?" Gertie Mae cackled.

High John howled with laughter, making everyone in the juke laugh with him. Lulabelle rolled her eyes and strode out of the juke joint through the hall that led to the Loving House creek bridge. Crossing it, she bypassed her girls, who flitted around in loose silk and lacy things. Making her way to a side room that she used for herself, Lulabelle poured water into a basin, stripped down, and rinsed off dust and the smell of the deep woods. It took her some time to get all the duckbill clips out of her hair. She combed, then fluffed out her tight curls, smoothing them into the perfect style. Make-up didn't take long to put on. Her plump lips smacked at her reflection in the mirror. Touching her stomach, she felt and heard the rumble of hunger, realizing she hadn't eaten a thing since breakfast. There was no time to focus on eating. She had to keep her wits about her. High John sent her former best friend, a ghost, to search for the rest of her supernatural lover's self. How could a hag trick the Crossroads Man? Erik was clever, powerful, and able to sniff out an inhuman creature from miles around. Ain't no way some slinky demon walked up on him and fooled him that easy.

Lulabelle took a moment and stretched out on her bed, calming herself. Too much was going on and all she wanted was for her man to come swaggering into her place again, showing her them shiny gold teeth, and lifting her onto that Daddy dick. She was tired of dead bodies showing up on her side of town instead of where the white folks were. A damn witch was making her life a mess. A knock on her bedroom door startled her agitated reverie.

"Who is it?" Lulabelle shouted.

The new girl, Altovise, stuck her head through the crack in the door. She had replaced one of Lulabelle's pregnant girls a few months back, right before Erik disappeared. Her short black bob of heavily greased curls made the room smell like bergamot.

"This man out here wants you, Lula," Altovise said.

High John pushed Altovise aside and stepped in, locking the door behind him. Lulabelle sat up, but he was next to her, sitting on the bed before she could feign decorum.

"Filling up fast out there. Good profitable business," High John said.

His fleshy lips said the words as his eyes raked down to her breasts that sat heavy and propped up with her good full-figure bra. Her cleavage spilled over the low cut of her dress. He reached over and dragged warm fingers up and down her arm.

"You look real nice, Lula. I cleaned up myself in that kitchen. Miss Eva let me use some hot water to bathe with and I changed my suit for you."

"No need to look good for me," she said.

He smirked. Without his hat, she could see his eyes clearly. Soft green ones with little flecks of pale jade toward the center. His cologne was spicy, like the kind the soldiers wore when they got paid and wanted to show off. The scent of nutmeg, anise and lemon tickled her nostrils with the odor of his breath reminding her of warm maple syrup. His wide nose complemented his full lips which had a playful twitching to them every time he said her name. Lulabelle tried to brush past him.

"I better get out there—"

High John gripped her by her arm tight and held her in place on the bed next to his hip.

"There needs to be a little discussion about payment," he said.

"Payment?"

She yanked her arm out of his hand.

"You said you were looking for him because he does business with you. A monetary transaction ain't got nothing to do with me, buddy," Lulabelle snapped.

"Who said anything about money, sweetheart?"

A lecherous pulling down of his lips made Lulabelle grit her teeth and huff under her breath.

"You want to fuck one of my girls?" she said.

"I wanna fuck you."

"This some bullshit, man. Why are men so typical?"

"I ain't no regular man."

"You act like one."

"You don't gotta pay me now. Let's just say you owe me, and I can collect later."

Lulabelle sucked her teeth.

"I'm just playin' girl. That Geechee said you don't enjoy being teased," High John said, slapping her kneecap.

He stood up and gave her a serious look.

"The moment they step in here, we have to play it cool and sneak away quietly. Hags only have power over their own dominion when they are in it. We get them preoccupied first, and then we can rescue Erik's spirit. The last thing we want is for them to harm anyone here," he said.

The old owl hooted outside, and High Joh turned his head in that direction. "I feel them coming," he said.

He clasped her hand, and they left the Loving House, crossing over the creek bridge and back into the juke joint. They pushed past excited dancers and the wall-to-wall patrons packed in her place. The Midnight Ramblers had Lulabelle's spot stacked like sardines in a can. Hot, funky, and full of spunk, Gertie Mae sang her ass off, and the crowd ate it up.

Outside on the porch, Lulabelle and High John spotted Sadie and her demon whores strolling out of the woods in stylish dresses and heels. Their movement seemed too fluid. Like they were floating instead of walking, but Lulabelle clearly saw their feet on the ground. Sadie shook her lean hips as she listened to the raucous sounds spilling out from the door.

"Ooh, sounds good in there, Lulabelle," Sadie said.

The hag eyed High John and gave him a wide smile.

"Thought you were expecting a crowd at your place," Lulabelle said.

"Later. We just wanted to come by and get some fried fish and listen to music. A little fun for my ladies before they have to work tonight," Sadie said.

One of the lighter-skinned whores snickered and held a finger under her nose like Sadie had said a funny joke. High John pulled out a toothpick and jabbed it between his teeth, making room for some new patrons to come inside. Lulabelle kept her cool.

"Come on in and see what good business looks like," Lulabelle said, mustering up a brave face.

Her heart pattered so fast in her chest watching Sadie and the others step across the protected threshold. She glanced at the moon that showed a glimpse of itself rising over the woods across from her juke joint. Opening the screen door, Lulabelle nodded her head toward the inside.

"Welcome," she said, grinning hard because Erik's life depended on it.

The women swept past smelling like strong perfume and trouble. She trailed behind them with High John just as Gertie Mae and the band whipped up another frenzy with a song talking about where to get the best sugar in town and everybody knew she was about to get filthy once she hiked up her dress and showed off gartered stockings.

Sadie and her demon girls wasted no time joining in with the dancing. They grabbed men away from other women and began grinding their breasts and asses against hips, groins, and hardening dicks. One bawdy demon, pretending to be a delicate-looking Black rose with succulent lips and feline eyes, took off her dress and slinked around a patron in her black bra and panties. She strutted her stuff, whipping up the thick crowd into another frenzy. Some men even had the nerve to throw money at her. Hoochie Coochie dancing began all around as if the crowd became infected with the seductively charged atmosphere. One demon girl jumped on the stage and thrust her narrow hips at the guitar player, nearly upstaging Gertie Mae who only fueled the fire by using her handkerchief that she used to wipe away a sweaty brow to fan the dancing whore on to more steamy shenanigans. Patrons sitting at the small tables stomped their feet and pounded the tables, making their liquor glasses and cold beer bottles jump with the brazen action.

Gertie Mae kicked up her heels and caterwauled into the microphone.

"I treats him kind but he don't do me right!

We fights and quarrel most every damn night

I can't have no man's got such low-down ways

Cause the blue gum man ain't the style now'days

I brought him from the north and I'm sendin' him back

Else I'll use his head for a carpet tack!"*

Lulabelle gazed at the crowd who had no clue about the wickedness among them. There was nothing she could do to prevent them from mingling with evil. Gertie Mae howled into the microphone a new tune that always brought the house down.

"Oh, the white girl rides in a Cadillac

The yella gal rides the same

Black gal rides in a dusty Ford

But she gets there just the same!"

High John slipped his hand around Lulabelle's and pulled her toward the kitchen. They slipped out of the juke joint through the backdoor and ran to his car. He drove fast out of the parking area, heading for the deep woods where Erik was held captive.

Lulabelle's heart lodged in her throat when they arrived at Sadie's whorehouse.

"Let's hurry," High John said.

Leaping out of the car, Lulabelle followed him to the porch. He checked around the grounds for something, holding his hand back for her to stay put. He dashed over to a stump on the side of the house and pulled out his mojo bag again. Quickly moving his fingers over the stump, Lulabelle listened to the house creak like it was about to collapse on itself. High John glanced at the house, then moved over to her.

"It's safe now. I had to put my protective root over it so the house won't snitch on us being here. Sadie may have some tricksters planted inside, but they won't notice us now," he said.

They cautiously climbed the steps, and High John opened the screen door. He juggled the front doorknob, and it opened whispery quiet as if it expected them.

"Hold on," he said.

He pulled a matchbox from his coat pocket and struck it, allowing them enough light for Lulabelle to get to a lamp and turn it on.

"There, on the mantle," Lulabelle said, pointing to the mason jars.

"Grab the one that has him," High John said.

Lulabelle eyed the jars and honed in on the one she remembered touching. She lifted it, spun around, and showed it to High John.

"Open it!" he said.

She twisted the lid and held out the jar to him.

"What do I do now?" she yelped, wide-eyed and scared.

High John took the jar from her hand and drank down the contents like he'd been parched for one hundred years.

"Da fuck you doin' man?!"

Lulabelle snatched the jar away from him, but the man swallowed down Erik and licked his tongue around his meaty lips.

"You tricked me!" Lulabelle shrieked.

"Calm down, Lula!" High John snapped.

Lulabelle wrestled the jar away from him and busted him upside the head with it. Blood gushed from the split in his temple, and she dashed toward the front door. High John grabbed her arm and swung her back into his chest. Smothering her lips with his large mouth.

She thrashed within his firm hold on her and jerked her face away from his, breaking his hold on her lips.

"Lula, baby! It's me!"

Lulabelle stopped moving and gazed deep into High John's eyes. The voice coming out of his mouth was Erik's. She swooned and his grip on her tightened and he pulled her in close.

High John kissed her, but the moist lips, the feel of them was all Erik. She cradled his face.

"What's going on?" Lulabelle said.

Erik nuzzled her cheek.

"You saved me, baby."

He dragged her out of the house and down the steps.

"Over there!" Lulabelle said, pointing to High John's Packard.

He helped Lulabelle get into the passenger side and he ran to the other door. High John left the keys in the ignition. Her man, using High John's body, held the steering wheel with trembling hands.

"Erik? Is it really you?"

Tears welled up in Lulabelle's eyes. High John turned to her and caressed her face. He pressed his dewy lips against hers and she squeezed her eyelids shut, praying that it wasn't a cruel trick. The taste, the feel, and the urgency of the kiss were all Erik. His deep wet kiss fed her a tongue that reminded her of why she adored him. This was her man. The Crossroads Man. The opener of the way to the old African Gods and pathways to other worlds. Back where he belonged. With her.

He released her and she jumped in her seat as the eyes staring back at her belonged to some other beautiful man. High John. She whimpered next to him and High John hugged her, his muscular arms and scent so different from Erik's but feeling like him just the same. Her lips hungered to kiss him again and tongue him down to his socks, but she couldn't get over that he was housed in a different man.

"What is happening?" she said.

"High John is letting me use him as a vessel to carry me until I can find my body."

"You sent… I mean… he sent Elizabeth to look for it. Do you remember where you were last?"

"Near the crossroads."

"How were they able to get you?"

Her head swam with the incongruence of hearing Erik's voice come out from a stranger's lips.

"Don't cry, baby."

She rested her head on his chest, listening to the heartbeat whispering love in her ear. Three months felt like three years while he was gone.

"They used a piece of your hair to cast a spell pretending to be you. One of them made an offering at the crossroads for me and clouded my eyes," Erik said.

"Your affections for her helped them fool you," High John said, interrupting Erik.

The switch-up made Lulabelle's head spin. A two-for-one sat next to her, and she reeled from the dizziness it produced in her.

"They must've come into the juke and got close to her… stole some hair or maybe fluids from something she drank out of and conjured a vision that clouded your eyes, Geechee," High John said.

"I can't stay in him long," Erik said.

The green eyes piercing into her made Lulabelle fret.

"I missed you, woman," Erik said.

He pulled Lulabelle onto his lap, and she felt his body react to hers. The skin beneath her fingers thrummed with anticipation as the heat from him seeped into her. She closed her eyes so she could imagine being with Erik, but the frisky hands on her ass made her gasp and stare at High John's handsome face.

Strong hands lifted her up and down onto a covered, bulging erection that felt like a steel rod underneath her panties. Determined fingers tore her underwear off and she lifted her hips so that High John… Erik… could unfasten his pants and released his dick.

"Wait," Lulabelle said.

She wanted to wait until he was in his own body, but Erik's heavy breathing told her otherwise. Plus, High John was a fine specimen of a man with just as much sex appeal as the Geechee man.

"I need you right now… please…" Erik begged.

He snaked that thick tongue in her ear and licked her down to her breasts, pushing them together. His palms squeezed and lifted the lush mounds until he could kiss them fully across the tops.

"Ride me, Lula, let me feel you again."

High John's body made Lulabelle ache with desire and long-felt longing. Their lips collided again, and he renewed their vows of pleasure that had been stolen for three months.

"We have to go, find your body—"

He smothered her lips and dominated the arch in her back, bending her until her shoulders rested against the steering wheel. His hands pulled down the front of her dress and slipped around her lower back to release the hooks on her bra.

Big tits spilled all over his chest, and the groan out of his throat thrilled her. She was with two men at the same time in one body, and the heat of them made her feel damp between the legs and wanton.

"Lula," he moaned.

He lifted her again, and she slid down on his erection, holding her breath and clutching his shoulders. It felt like cheating, but it wasn't. Not really.

"Fuck," High John groaned.

Her wide ass rested on his balls, and they both sat still, getting used to the sensation of the connection. Lulabelle's head fell back and High John stuffed a big nipple in his mouth, sucking on her breast with a ravenous tugging that shot down to her clit and made her clench her slick walls all around the girth that stretched her beyond belief. She threw her arms around his neck and bounced on his dick with an off-kilter rhythm, as if the Crossroads Man was still figuring out how to work the strange form he was in.

"So wet… tight..." he huffed, pumping himself into her.

She soaked his lap with the pent-up arousal she kept between her thighs waiting for him to return. It wasn't the reunion she imagined, but she took it hard and fast. Loud gushy sounds rang in her ears, listening to the splashy sounds in her pussy and the heavy slapping of her ass cheeks on his muscular thighs. High John played with her breasts again, and she sensed an internal struggle by watching his eyes blaze into hers. The conjure man wanted a taste, and she knew for sure the entity she fucked now was not Erik. It couldn't be. The feeling was different. The hands on her breasts and the tongue on her ripe nipples were foreign to her skin.

Lulabelle hollered in his ear as he pounded her pussy, slapping her ass as he took what he wanted from her. She let him, indulging in the forbidden touch of High John.

"We have to leave… now…" High John's voice returned, and Lulabelle pretended like she didn't hear him, wanting to feel that heavy dick carve unfamiliar territory in her pliant pussy.

"Fuck me, Daddy," she grunted, slamming her ass down on his balls, wanting him to feel all the harlotry she planned on giving him.

She kissed him, licking and biting on his big lips to make him open his mouth so she could rest her tongue in the maple-scented wetness.

"Oh, my damn!" High John screeched, losing full control of the situation.

His hand fumbled with the driver's side door and a gust of humid early fall air gusted around them. He moved out of the car with Lulabelle still stuffed with his dick. His pants fell around his shoes as he corrected his balance. She wouldn't let go of him, sucking on his neck and whimpering for more thrusting of that big meat. Tears dampened her eyes as she begged for more pumping.

"Give me some more, Daddy," she pleaded, purposely not saying anyone's name.

The squelching of her pussy told her Erik was back in the driver's seat. He spun them around and plopped her on the hood, drilling her folds like there was no tomorrow. Watching her titties bounce as he hunched and hollered her name gave Lulabelle joy. She scraped her nails on his nape and cooed his name into his big lips.

"I'm finna cum," he yelled.

"It's your pussy!" she encouraged.

She didn't know if it was Erik or High John. Didn't matter no way. Her pussy was plowed to smithereens and ready to receive.

"You like how it feels?" she purred.

Erik grabbed her throat and pushed her down on the hood.

"Fuck me harder… harder… lemme feel all that big dick!" she demanded.

His eyes burned holes into her skull, but the face looking at her was High John. The conjure man's lips slammed on top of hers and kissed her breath away.

She felt the hot spurts of semen against her walls. It warmed up her insides as his dick pulsed with a prolonged orgasm.

"Lula!" he groaned, flicking his fingers across her clit.

"Cum in this tight pussy!"

Her walls throbbed all around his dick from the bottom of her pussy. She lifted in time to see her opening grip and release with a rhythmic throbbing that made her whimper for God. The damp curls of her pubic hairs were beautiful against his wild bush of dark moist pubic curls. He grabbed her breasts again to hold them once more as he shot one last coating of cum all over her walls.

Hot, sweaty, and spent from the exertion, High John pulled his fat dick out of her pussy. His ejaculate pooled out on the hood. She squeezed as much of it out as possible, and he groaned at the amount spilling all over the car. Wiping his face, he reached for his pants like a drunk man trying to dress.

"Got no time for this shit… gotta find this niggas's body," High John grumbled.

Lulabelle slide down the hood and fixed her dress. With no panties on, the air tickled her naked vulva. She fastened up her bra again and caught her breath. High John regarded her with his own lust, not Erik's. He was in control again.

"Gotta find Elizabeth and see if she found his body," he said.

"Where should we look for her?"

"The crossroads," High John said. "Get in the car."

She crawled back in, and he slipped in beside her. He started the car and drove carefully out of the woods.

The crossroads were empty, only moonlight high above, and the distant sound of The Midnight Ramblers at her juke joint met them there. High John stomped around and peered in every direction before stepping to the center that joined all the directions together. He kicked around some dirt and rested his hands on his hips.

"He loves you," High John said.

Lulabelle stared at him with a curious expression.

"That's the only way they got him. If he didn't love you, then the root they put together to bind him wouldn't have worked. Love is a powerful spell, Lula. An incantation that holds hearts together takes two to manifest the conjuring," High John said.

He looked at her with soft, knowing eyes.

"They probably would've fooled me too," he said, winking at her.

He gazed all around him.

"I figure… they moved into these parts and wanted to grab people roaming around late at night. Drunk. Confused. Not paying attention to the signs. Someone who regularly fed Erik might've missed a night making an offering to him. It weakened the veil and made him come look-see when bodies were found here. Can't nobody resist a pretty girl pretending to be lost. Not even a drunk man. Even a woman looking for her wayward husband would stop to help another woman in trouble. They get caught, and the hag rides their body for… draining them of energy and the will to live. Geechee came to see what was going on and a demon pretending to be you seduced him with a binding spell. Stuffed his essence in a jar for Sadie to keep. Buried him somewhere…"

His eyes glanced behind her.

A glowing ball of yellow light bounced above a thicket of kudzu.

"There she is," High John said.

He ran toward the light, and Lulabelle followed him. The kudzu was thick and High John yanked on it at the spot where they saw the light. She helped him, and they found a decaying lump of plant matter and unsettled dirt. Dragging their hands through it, Lulabelle squealed when they discovered Erik's body stuffed in a hole. She brushed the soil off of his suit and wept as she helped High John pull him out and lay him flat on his back.

"Erik," she said, stroking his moldy and mottled face.

The stench of decay was sickly sweet, and she covered her nose and mouth once they took in the full reeking of the decomposing form. High John stuck his fingers in Erik's mouth and scooped out more dirt. He wiped his nose too, and Lulabelle looked up to check the placement of the moon. It was still high in the night sky.

High John widened Erik's lips and covered his mouth with his own, vomiting the liquid he swallowed from the jar down into his throat. The retching sounds almost made Lulabelle puke, and she turned her head, pinching her nose from the powerful odor of sulfur. She looked over at Erik again when High John sat back and wiped his lips. They waited.

Nothing happened.

"Are we too late? Is his body too far gone?" Lulabelle asked.

High John looked worried, and he stood up and paced among the kudzu. An hour passed. The sounds of the woods at night gave Lulabelle the creeps, but she felt safe with High John. When another hour passed, she couldn't hold her tears back.

"Come on, man. Get your ass back here!" High John shouted.

He slammed a fist on Erik's chest. Despite that, nothing happened.

"We were too late," Lulabelle whined, wiping her eyes.

"Nah, his body is still good enough to restore."

"Then what's wrong with him? Use your mojo bag, cast a spell on him or somethin'!"

"Calm down, woman," Erik said.

Lulabelle placed her hands on his chest and watched him blink the dirt out of his eyes.

"It takes time to get acquainted with the body again. Always wanna rush people," Erik teased.

He sat up and dirt dropped from his skin all over and his face filled with his beautiful ruddy brown coloring again. She helped him stand, and he brushed off his clothes and shoes. He held out a hand for High John and they clasped palms and bumped shoulders.

"Came right on time," Erik said.

"Lulabelle was a big help. She found you before I did," High John said.

She stood between them feeling sheepish and a little embarrassed thinking about what had transpired between the three of them earlier.

"I got 'em trapped at Lula's juke right now. We best hurry back before the barrier I put around the place wears off. I got no choice but to take the hag down there. Couldn't do it until I found you, though.

"Understood," Erik said.

They trotted back to High John's car, piled in, and rushed over to the juke. The noise from inside seemed louder, and the dancing and partying going on shook the foundation.

"Go in through the back," High John said.

They snuck around the side and entered the rear with stealth. No one paid attention to them except for Eva, who fried up the last orders of fish and chicken for the night. Her eyes grew wide at Erik being with them, and Lulabelle held up a finger to her lips, warning her not to say anything. Erik went to the kitchen sink and rinsed his mouth out and washed his face. Lulabelle poured him some whiskey, and he took the glass and gulped down the contents. He leaned over and kissed her lips. She closed her eyes and accepted the warm, smooth feel of his mouth over hers. High John handed Erik his hat that he hung up in the kitchen.

"Keep that down so they won't recognize you in the crowd," High John said.

Erik pulled it down low, and they listened to the hard partying.

"This place is on fire," Eva said, monitoring High John. "These people are eating and drinking up everything!"

Lulabelle could see the dollar bills Eva was adding up with her eyes, thinking about all the money they were making.

"People are so busy in the juke, they barely going to the Loving House," Eva said.

"Go on out there and stay in the back. Lula, let Sadie see you so she'll think you've been here, but stay away from her," High John said.

The conjure man stared at one of Eva's cupboards, then waved his hand at Lulabelle.

"Go on, get out there," High John ordered.

Lulabelle grabbed Erik's hand, and they squeezed through bodies. She shook one hip and waved her hand at customers as if she'd been making the rounds as usual. Sadie sat perched at the front table near the band, and her girls were still half naked and urging debauchery everywhere. The people obliged with lusty kissing on the dance floor, and fingers groping and grabbing partners in their seats.

Lulabelle called out a loud, "Hey girl!" to Gertie Mae, who had sweated out her pin curls and make-up. Streaks of pancake foundation dripped down her drenched face as she sang a bluesy, slow drag. Her eyes connected with Sadie, who smoked a cigarette with a long cigarette holder, blowing smoke circles at the piano player. Lulabelle pretended to roll her eyes and moved through the patrons to the back. Erik kept his head dipped low as they scurried and hid behind the standing audience.

For the first time in months, Lulabelle could relax with Erik pressed into her back. He threw an arm around her chest and felt on her breast openly. No one cared. Their gazes were stuck on Gertie Mae and listening to her moaning lyrics. She leaned her head against his chest.

"I thought you left me and found someone else," she said.

She didn't have to speak louder than the music because his keen hearing could pick up the softest whisper from her lips. He rested his back against the wall, and she clung to his arm.

"I'ma go wash up back at the Loving House. Change clothes," he said.

She gripped him tighter.

"Don't worry, I'm here. You're here. Can't trick me with my real woman," he said.

He kissed her forehead and pushed through the throngs toward the hall. She circled the juke and collected money from Honey Boy who looked dizzy from all the business.

"These men are finally heading to the back," Honey Boy said. "Thought them hoes from the woods would leave soon, but they are hunkering down for the night. That Sadie ain't left that table yet. She don't dance or nothin', just watches her women and smokes."

"She ask about me at all?"

"Nah. She likes her moonshine and people gawking at her hoes."

"I bet," Lulabelle said, stuffing the money down her bra.

The juke was sweltering, with so many people bumping up against each other. Erik met up with her in the back wearing a fresh suit that she kept pressed and ready for him in her room. He held her close. His touch was electrifying on her skin. They swayed to the slow drag and before she knew it, he had her dress hiked up her waist in the back while he unzipped his clean pants. Her lips made an "O" as he took her right there in the crowd, their eyes transfixed on nothing but The Midnight Ramblers. Erik gripped her shoulders and thrust in and out slowly. His balls slapped against her clit and her body jerked to his pacing.

"You enjoyed fucking High John a little too much," he growled in her ear.

Her eyes watered from the stretching his dick gave her walls, and he was not kind about letting her catch her breath as he stroked faster in her pussy. He slammed a hand over her mouth to keep her from moaning too loud. The cacophony of music, call and response shouting at Gertie Mae, and Erik's hot, heavy dick beating down her wet slit with no mercy had Lulabelle mewling and crying softly with too much stimulation. His dick was thick enough to make her clit tug down on its own without his fingers stimulating it. He wouldn't let up, digging his heels into the floor and thrusting into her until she was almost on her tippy-toes. Her pants were loud in her own ears against his hand, and she creamed on his dick with a sudden loss of control. His erection swelled and his grunt of satisfaction pushed a flood of cum into her that weakened her knees. He held her up and whispered in her ear.

"When this is over, I gotta punish that pussy. You know that, right?"

She whimpered, and he spanked her ass, covering her cheeks back up with her dress.

"I ain't like how you acted in that car and out of it. Didn't even say my name like you usually do. You liked fucking his body," he said.

"I was fucking you," she said.

The gleam in his eye and the smirk on his lips told her he thought she was lying. He gave her a fat smooch on her cheek and slid his tongue in her ear and around the shell.

"Were you?" he whispered.

Lulabelle rounded her shoulders and avoided eye contact. High John stepped out of the kitchen and she shivered, thinking about him sucking on her titties while she bounced on his fat dick. All three of them kept watch over Sadie and her whores.

"Night Lula!"

Lulabelle held a hand to her chest, trying to calm the tightness there and the shortness of breath as she watched the last of her patrons leave her juke. She waved at the man who called out to her, the piano player, and kept her eyes on two of Sadie's demon whores who were topless and lounging on chairs near the stage.

Sadie herself sat at the piano, tickling the ivory, keeping her sultry eyes on Lulabelle. Honey Boy took the last of the cash she collected and headed out to the Loving House to check on the girls and rest. Eva slung a coat over her shoulders and lifted a covered plate of chicken from the bar counter and bid Lulabelle goodnight as her husband waited to scoop her up at the front door. She left a bag on the counter, waving for Lulabelle to ignore it as she walked out with her man. The last stragglers headed out and finally, they were alone with the hag and her ladies. Erik slinked away from the wall and took off High John's hat. Sadie squinted and stood up once she realized it was Erik. The hag snapped her fingers and her women jumped up and stalked across the dance floor toward the entrance. Lulabelle glanced at High John and he checked for the moonlight through the window. He grinned.

Sadie and her women came back in, the barrier blocking their exit from the premises. Erik pulled Lulabelle behind him and she stayed near the wall.

"Ain't nobody here now. Might as well show yourselves," High John said.

He pulled out his mojo bag and sat it openly on his chest. Erik moved next to him and flexed his fingers before pulling out his switchblade. Sadie checked the juke to make sure no one else was around.

"Why not?" she said.

Sadie's face puffed out like a bullfrog again, and she stripped out of her dress and underwear, revealing a gorgeous body that split and twisted, turning itself inside out until her skin fell to the floor in a wet splat at her feet. Without her skin, she was a walking, red, glistening wound. She grinned, and everything inside her mouth was black. Lulabelle couldn't see a tongue or teeth anymore. The whores behind her shed their phony skin and dropped to all fours, snarling and gnashing vicious teeth looking like hell hounds skinned raw, the lean muscles in their bodies a wet scarlet nightmare as their claws clacked across the wood floor.

Lulabelle couldn't turn her head away from the horror in her juke and a chill dragged along her spine as she sincerely wondered what High John and her Geechee man looked like under their skin.

"No tit for tat boys? We get undressed and y'all stay pretending? That's not fair at all," Sadie said with her midnight black mouth.

Her eyes were still seductive and sinister. She turned toward Lulabelle, and Erik stepped forward.

"I would love to ride you gal, then put your shiny little soul in a glass jar," Sadie said.

"Don't look at her, Lula. Turn your head, baby," Erik said.

She did as he said so she wouldn't be hypnotized again. He lunged for the hell hounds, distracting Sadie. The demons attacked Erik, but he cut them with his razor, deflecting their snapping teeth as much as he could. The hag jumped on his back, whipping her head back and forth as she gripped his chin, yanking it back.

High John sprang into action, snatching the hag's skin off the floor and running with it to the counter. He stretched it open on the bloody wet side and dumped the contents of the bag Eva had left behind all over it.

Sadie shrieked when she noticed his actions and jumped off of Erik. He continued fighting and cutting the hell hounds that gave off the smell of burning flesh. High John stepped away from the counter and allowed Sadie to pick up her skin. She shook it and cursed High John, throwing her outer covering back on. It sizzled and burned her flesh, and she clawed at her skin, enraged and frightened.

The hell hounds flopped around the floor like they were having convulsions, and black acidic foam bubbled out of their mouths, filling the room with the stench of burning rot. Sadie clawed at her once beautiful face.

"You motherfucker!" she screamed at High John.

Erik ran to the conjure man and High John poured the contents of the mojo bag into the Geechee's hand. Erik balled his hand into a fist, blew through a small hole he made on the side of it, then slammed his hands together. There came a loud clap of sound that reverberated like thunder and Lulabelle could never be sure if she saw what she saw, but The Crossroads Man, her beloved Erik, stole the moon from the sky, reached right through the juke window behind the stage, and plucked it with his fingers, replacing it with the sweet sugary colors dawn.

Sadie shrieked again and fled out of the juke, breaking through the screen door and tumbling down the steps with a roar pouring out of her wicked mouth. Lulabelle ran to the entrance and watched the hag head for the woods, but it was too late. Sunlight pierced holes through her body and she sparked up like a human torch, her flesh scorched into black ash that floated to the morning sky. One last horrid screech sounded from her lips before she vanished in front of Lulabelle's eyes.

"My God today," Lulabelle whispered with wide eyes.

She turned back into her juke and the hell hounds had vanished too, leaving no trace behind. High John wiped his hands.

"Eva's salt trick don't work on me, but Miss Sadie sho did go out like a whiny bitch!" High John said.

Erik laughed at him, and both men slapped hands and shook their heads.

"Hags always have a bad habit of leaving their skin out in the wrong places tryna be tough all the time," Erik said.

Lulabelle could only stare at them, mouth agape, and her thoughts jumbled with all the terrifying sights she'd seen in nearly twenty-four hours. She tossed a weary hand up at them both.

"I'm going to bed. This shit… this was too much," Lulabelle complained.

"Oh, you ain't about to do no sleepin'," Erik said.

Lulabelle stopped and put a hand on her hip.

"Whatchu mean?"

"Told you already. I'm 'bout to be knee deep in that pussy. Go on back there and get naked. You gotta make up for the disrespect," Erik said.

High John snatched his hat from the floor where Sadie had knocked it off of Erik's head. He placed it back on his own head.

"Guess I'll just mosey along then. Come see me Geechee when you done with her. I'll be waiting over at the crossroads. We got work to do," High John said.

"You ever gon' give that conjure man his body back?" Erik said.

"Maybe. Maybe not. I kinda like it. What you think, Lula?" High John said.

"Don't be askin' her 'bout nothin', man. Take that shit back. I don't want her looking at that face again."

"Scared of some competition, I see."

"Whatever, man. Take that nigga his shit back so he can do his work."

High John sucked his teeth at Erik and winked at Lulabelle.

"Sure y'all don't need me to watch?"

Erik raised a fist. Lulabelle grinned.

"Tell the truth, Lulabelle, was all that hollerin' you was doin' for me or him?" High John asked.

"Goodbye High John. Close the door behind you," Lulabelle said.

Erik stuck out his tongue at High John.

"So ungrateful. I'll be waitin' on your ass," High John said.

High John looked into the corner of the juke and tipped his hat to nothing she could see.

"Thank you for your help, Elizabeth. You are a true friend to these two," High John said.

"Tell her thank you for me, please," Lulabelle said.

"She heard you," High John said.

He strolled out of the front door and politely closed it for Lulabelle.

Erik spanked her ass.

"I'ma start with those big thighs first. Then I'll lick and kiss that juicy pussy with my sweet jewel at the top…"

Erik nuzzled his face against hers. She turned and wrapped her arms around his neck.

"Is it true that you love me?" she asked.

He kissed her softly and rubbed her shoulders.

"Yes."

"That's what got you in trouble," she said.

"One time. Won't ever happen again."

"Promise?"

"Promise."

"What will happen to those jars they left in that house?"

"Nothing. I'll pour them out and release their souls to heaven at the crossroads."

"Will you ever show me what you truly look like?"

"No. Your human eyes couldn't handle it."

"So I'll never see you?"

"Not until you're an old woman and you pass on. Then I'll guide you to the other side of the veil."

He kissed her again, and she admired all the gold in his teeth.

"You'll stay with me until I die?"

"Or until you get sick of me."

She shook her head and pressed her face against his neck, smelling his skin and feeling his warmth.

"I won't ever get sick of you."

He spanked her backside, and she yelped.

"Lulabelle, Lulabelle… time for us to go to the Loving House," he teased.

She threaded her fingers with his and thought of all the things she wanted to ask him about turning night into day and loving her so much that a hag could trick his ass into a jar. He tugged on her hand and she walked beside him across the rickety creek bridge. He slipped a hand under her dress and fingered her folds, slipping two digits inside of her as she walked slowly for him, letting him watch her big ass jiggle while he worked her pussy.

When they reached her soft, lumpy bed, she forgot about the moon, the sun, and the shiny mason jars. All she saw were stars in her eyes as she raised her big legs high to the sky, letting the Crossroads Man make love to her again, and again, and again….

Part 1 "Ice Cold Jax" HERE.

A.N.:

Aaron Pierre is my new face claim for John the Conqueror. I had someone else originally, but it's fun to switch up. Basically Killmonger and Terry Richmond tag teaming in this. This sequel was also written as a birthday read for @soufcakmistress in 2022.

#There's Some Whores in This House #Killmonger Smut #Terry Richmond Smut #Erik Killmonger AU #Terry Richmond AU #Black Supernatural #Black American Folk Tale #Uzumaki Rebellion #Erik Stevens AU #Erik Killmonger Smut

43 notes · View notes