Barrie Trevor stood in front of the cluster of office vending machines at lunchtime trying to decide between the chicken salad or the ham and cheese when someone walked up behind her so quietly that she startled when she realized he stood there.
"Would you like to share my lunch?" he asked. She tried to place him. The new guy in accounting. She'd just been introduced to him this morning. What was his name anyway, Peter, Paul?
"I have plenty," he said, opening his bag to show her two huge pastrami on rye sandwiches. His voice was soft and oily. Somehow it slipped right through her and made her not to want to refuse him outright. Besides, those sandwiches looked good. Barrie followed him outside the office building and sat beside him on a hard park bench, munching the sandwich he'd handed her with the heat from the buttery high noon sun warming the crown of her head.
She ostensibly watched the passers-by, but she kept glancing surreptitiously over at him. Paul Johnson, he'd said his name was, correctly assuming she hadn't remembered. An ordinary name for an ordinary but pleasant looking man. He was vanilla ice cream to her more exotic butter pecan flavor; average height, average weight, brown hair, and pale skin.
She felt uncomfortable with the silence. "Were you raised here in New Orleans?" she asked.
"No," he answered, not looking up from his sandwich.
"Oh. Where have you worked before? Do you like your new job?" Her words seemed to drop into some sort of dead vacuum that had settled between them.
He turned and stared at her. His eyes were gray, so light they looked like water. Fear, unreasoned fear struck her and she wanted to run, but she was frozen like a fly in a spider's web. He said nothing but looked at her a long moment then turned his attention back to his sandwich.
Barrie took a deep breath. What was wrong with her? Why had she felt such emotion at his gaze? The man simply had few social skills. That didn't make him an ax murderer.
"I'd like to take you to dinner tonight," he asked.
She almost choked on her sandwich. A gray shadow covered the sun and she felt a sudden chill. The invitation was wholly unexpected. It was one thing to sit in the noontime sun and share a sandwich; it was another for a white man from the office to ask her out on an unmistakable date. Barrie blinked rapidly and tried to think of a suitable excuse.
She might have gone out with him if there had been anything about him that attracted her. He looked all right, certainly not ugly, but there was no warmth in him, nothing that gave her the slightest desire to get to know him better or to break her previous dating habits. Why suddenly eat white bread if you'd been chewing on whole wheat your entire life?
"I'll meet you in the lobby at five," he said.
Her eyebrows shot up. The man hadn't waited for her to say yes, no, or kiss my butt. He hadn't asked if she had plans. He just assumed that she would be panting to go out with him and waiting for him in the company lobby at his beck and call. She opened her mouth to tell him off, to tell him he needed to wake up from the dream he was having because there was no way in hell— "I'll be waiting," she replied.
Then she gasped in disbelief that she'd said that. The words had suddenly emerged from her mouth like someone put them there. Had she just accepted a date with this man she was rapidly starting to find repulsive? Maybe he was a ventriloquist. She opened her mouth again to speak, and nothing emerged but air. Her vocal cords wouldn't work. Panic built within her and if she could utter a sound, she would have screamed.
Paul stood and brushed his pants. "You will," he said. He fixed her with gray stare and it was as if a cold light had flashed and erased her world.
"Okay," she whispered.
She watched him walk away. Something was bothering her, something bad, but she couldn't remember what. It was as if right before you were going to open your mouth to say something and you lost your thought. Frustrating. She couldn't remember what was so important, but she did remember the date with Paul Johnson right after work. He was such an exciting man.
They had a pleasant time. He drove a late model dark blue Honda Accord. They ate Italian food at a chain restaurant and the evening seemed to pass like a foggy gray mist. Barrie realized she wasn't quite herself, but it didn't bother her much for some reason.
When he walked her to the door, she fumbled with her keys. "You are going to ask me in and I'm going to fuck you," he said
Outrage flared within her and she clenched her keys so hard she felt the pain of the cold metal digging into her palm. Then the emotion dissipated and faded in the pause of a mere moment, forgotten. "Okay," she said. A look from his eyes had made it clear that no other response existed. That was just fine with her. Or maybe it wasn't, but for the life of her, she couldn’t figure out why it mattered. He followed her into her apartment and she flipped on a lamp. "That will be very nice," Barrie said as she turned and waited for him to take her into his arms.
The sex had been like the man, strictly vanilla, pleasant and bland, hardly earth shaking. It wasn't until much later that she vaguely remembered the oddity of it all. She'd never slept with a man on the first date and she'd never slept with a white man before him. She discovered with a slight sense of disappointment that all men appear gray in the dark. Vanilla lovemaking owed its flavor to no particular color.
He had been in her apartment for almost two weeks now. They both got up and went to work in separate cars then they'd have dinner at a different restaurant every night. He slept in her bed and they went to sleep to the sound of the television. He made love to her Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays starting at the closing credits of the local news show and ending exactly twenty minutes later.
Barrie's few lucid seconds were full of such anger and fear she hurried past them to into the place where she pleased him. Paul was pleased when she broke up with her boyfriend. He was pleased when she avoided her friends. She had no family left and few close friends except Jean.
She dreamed of her mother sometimes. She'd cry for her and reach out but she was no longer there. Her mother died when she was fifteen and the pain had dulled to an ache she was accustomed to and wore like a pair of ill-fitting shoes. She hadn't cried out for her mother even in her dreams for years. Jean had been her mother's best friend and she'd naturally stepped in to fill the void. She'd adopted Barrie in spirit.
They worked together. Jean was one of those secretaries who had more power than middle management. Avoiding her was becoming a job in itself. Why was she avoiding her anyway? Why was she avoiding everyone? Raw panic followed by a memory of gray ice.
Then the familiar blank grayness filled her mind. He would be pleased, she thought. Barrie stared at her computer, her gaze vacant and her mouth slack. Jean walked into her cubicle and plopped down next to her desk. "Okay, what's wrong with you? Out with it." Barrie said nothing. "Are you sick?" Jean asked, a frantic edge starting to cling to her voice.
Barrie shook her head no. "I've been busy," she murmured.
"Too busy for your friends? Quinn called and told me you cancelled the shopping trip with her without an excuse. You know she'd been counting on your help with those bridesmaid dresses.
Barrie's lips tightened and she sat her sandwich down. "I'm sorry. I—I don't know what's going on with me."
Jean gave her a searching look. "Have you met a new man?"
"It's strange. I don't know why I have to please him . . ." Words failed her again. She couldn't tell Jean about Paul.
"Are you in love?" Jean asked with concern.
Barrie shook her head, a quick and sharp negative. She knew nothing about the man, could remember nothing, except he'd appeared in her life and now there was a surfeit of restaurant food and a void where the people in her life had once filled.
"Well, then what's wrong with you?"
A tear rolled down Barrie's cheek and landed on the desk. "I don't know. It seems as if I'm under a spell or something."
Jean's eyes widened. "I could tell something was wrong." She looked around the cubicle then leaned in close to Barrie. "Don't you worry honey, I know someone." She lifted her bulk out of the chair and hurried off.

Two days later Jean reappeared with a string tied around a small blue cloth bag. "A gris-gris, a voodoo charm. I met with a woman who was very concerned about you. She said you were under attack. She said this would offer some protection, but it wouldn't be enough. I was to bring you to her."
Barrie stared at the thing. Jean put it around her neck. The cotton bag settled between her breasts with a feeling of slick coolness. The fear returned more sharp and raw than ever. She stared at Jean, willing her to look at her, to see what she couldn't tell her. "Under attack? That's crazy," she said. Where did those words come from? Barrie though. They weren't her words. But they were coming from her mouth.
"I'm not sure. She said a power of darkness was growing around you. You're to wear this at all times. She promised it would help. It better, it cost me a fortune."
"I don't see what Paul Johnson has to do with the powers of darkness. If that were the case, you'd think he'd be better in bed." Pure relief flooded Barrie. Those were her words, they didn't carry the emotion she was feeling, but thank God, they were her words.
"Paul Johnson? That new white guy in accounting? You're seeing him? Dang girl. I can't believe you didn't tell me before."
"I can't believe it either, in more ways then one. Jean, he's virtually moved in. I'm spending all my time with him and we don't do a thing. We go out to eat every night then we come home and go to bed. I don't get it."
"What happened to Jamal?"
"I broke up with him."
"You blew Jamal off for that guy in accounting? I do have the right guy in mind, don't I? Paul Johnson, white guy, average stature, medium brown hair, new guy?"
"I'm scared," Barrie said, her voice dwindling away. She wanted and needed to say more, but no more would come.
Jean's eyes narrowed. "He's got those strange light colored eyes," she muttered. She shot a glance at Barrie. "You didn't tell me about him for all that time, and as soon as I hang the gris-gris around your neck you're giving me all sorts of revelations."
Barrie realized that things seemed a little clearer now, like she had been in a fog that suddenly cleared. "Take me to the woman, take me now, while you can." Sudden reluctance and repulsion filled her and she wanted to rip the string and blue bag from her neck.
She gasped and Jean turned to stared at her, a worried look crossing her brown face. "You look sick."
"It feels like all the air is sucked out of the room. What's happening to me, Jean?" she sounded small and frightened, like a little girl's voice.
Jean stood and grasped her purse. "Come on." She helped Barrie up. "I'll tell Harry you're deathly ill and I have to take you to the doctor. Lord knows you look the part."
As soon as they left the building, Barrie gasped the sweet Louisiana air and the suffocating, oppressive feeling disappeared. By the time they reached the woman's house she felt almost back to her old self. Maybe she should go to the doctor and get some help while she had the energy to do so. She knew as soon as she returned home the familiar gray of Paul's thrall would overcome her again.
"Jean," Barrie said as they pulled up in front of an old crumbling carriage house in the garden district. "Maybe you should be taking me to the doctor. This is a waste of time. I'm really worried. Maybe I'm losing my mind."
"Shush. Humor me, then we'll go to any doctor you want."
"Where are you taking me? Tell me something about this woman."
"She's a magician and a priestess. She's very powerful. My sister—"
"Is out of her mind," Barrie said grimly.
"Just because you don't get along with Marie doesn't mean her beliefs aren't valid. I thought you were more open minded," Jean said chidingly.
Barrie rolled her eyes. "Your sister kills goats for fun. If this woman, priestess, or whatever she is, starts sacrificing chickens and sprinkling their blood over me or something freaky like that, I'm out of here."
"Shush," Jean said again as she pulled a rope next to an ornate door painted blood red and gilded with gold. "You be nice."
A young teenage boy answered the door. He was brown and beautiful, his race not readily identifiable. "Madame asks you to wait in here. She was expecting you."
Barrie tried to refrain from rolling her eyes as she walked into the small room draped with silk of dark jewel colors and redolent of exotic incense. Madame whoever-she-was certainly believed in setting the stage. She'd bet money the woman appeared wearing flowing robes and a turban.
But when she appeared, she was a small nut-brown woman wearing blue jeans and a white t-shirt. She brushed a few crumbs of dirt off her knees. "I apologize for the wait. I was busy gardening when Dominic told me you had arrived." Her voice was rich and obviously educated. She turned to Barrie. "Please, sit," she said gesturing at a small dark wooden round table surrounded with four high backed carved mahogany chairs. She smiled at Jean. "Would you two like tea? Coffee?"
Barrie answered, tension drawing her taut. She needed to get to the point. "No. Jean thought that you could help me."
The smile faded from the woman's face. "Please sit," she repeated. Jean sat beside Barrie and touched her hand reassuringly.
The woman lifted a blue candle and what looked like an unlabeled wine bottle from a shelf. She set both in the middle of the table and mumbled a few words. She poured a small stream of dark liquid on the table and replaced the bottle. Barrie stared at the dark viscous liquid pooling in the center of the paper. She had a strong urge to go find some paper towels.
The woman produced a piece of chalk from her jeans pocket and with a few passes of her hand drew an intricate design on the table. Finally she lit the candle with a prosaic looking Bic lighter and sat down across from Barrie. She closed her eyes and started to hum.
Barrie met Jean's eyes impatiently. She wanted to get out of here. She felt more like herself than she had in weeks. She wanted to take some action, put Paul out of her apartment and go get some help.
"She has attracted an Other," the woman suddenly said.
"An Other?" Jean asked.
"Another what?" Barrie echoed.
The woman's eyes flew open and met Barrie's. She realized her eyes weren't the brown she expected to see, but such a flat, matte black, it appeared as if she had no irises at all.
"Things changed when someone new entered your life," the woman said. "Someone who appears normal, even average on the surface but underneath, you can tell something's not quite right," the woman said.
Barrie looked away. The woman's gaze made her uncomfortable, made her remember some forgotten emotion. A terrible feeling. "I met a man at work. He's with me all the time. But I know nothing about him."
"It is the Other. You know in your heart that your relationship with this man isn't normal and that this man in fact is not a man."
The fear that had hovered right outside of Barrie's memory ignited and exploded within her with such force that she couldn't breathe for a moment. "What does he want from me?" The words were broken, terrified.
The words hung like stilled dust motes in the air a moment.
"Yes, what does that man want from her?" Jean demanded, the irritation in her voice breaking the spell of dread that hung over them.
"It wants to feed. The Other is a predator."
Jean shuddered.
"Are you telling me that Paul Johnson is a vampire?" Barrie asked.
"It would be much simpler if it was. It doesn't want your blood, but something infinitely more precious."
"He vants to suck my blood," Barrie gave her best Bela Lugosi impression with a hysterical giggle.
Jean shot a glance at her that said, "You better behave, girl," as clearly as if she spoke the words.
"What you're involved with is much more sinister than vampirism and much more deadly. A vampire only kills the body, you know. The Other wants to suck your soul."
Barrie had nothing to say. She never doubted that there were things in the world she didn't understand, but vampires were a tad clichéd, and soul suckers were even more out there. There was probably nothing wrong with her that a little therapy laced with Valium and Prozac couldn't cure. She glanced at her watch.
"The infestation is becoming more common," the woman said. "I once thought it was a form of demon possession but it is different. I've been told the Others are not of this world. They are an alien infestation."
"Little gray men told you that?"
"Barrie!" Jean snapped.
Barrie had a sudden overwhelming urge to escape. She stood.
"If you leave now, you are lost. It will know you know and it will toy with you no longer," the woman said. "Sometimes it will keep humans with it for a time, almost like a pet, while it feeds on others."
Barrie moved to the door.
Jean glared at her. "What can we do?" she asked.
"The remedy is not easy for either me or her. But she must have help. She will never be able to break free without assistance from the spirit world."
"Just tell us what we can do," Jean said.
The forces I must channel to save her are so powerful I put myself in danger."
"How much do you want?" Jean asked.
"Five thousand dollars," the woman answered.
"I'm out of here," Barrie said. She turned and walked out of the room without a backward glance. She waited in the car for about ten minutes until Jean joined her. She couldn't remember why she was so worried about Paul Johnson. He was simply her new boyfriend, and she was under a bit of stress.
"Not a word," Barrie said to Jean when she opened the car door. "Five thousand dollars? That woman was out of her tiny mind. Do people really pay her that kind of money? Damn. I'm in the wrong profession."
"Marie says she's the best, one of the few authentic voodooeines. People do pay her that kind of money. I understand why you can't right now, but Barrie, if it gets worse, if you need to go to her, do it. I'll help you out. Here's her card." Jean pressed a square of paper in her hand.
Barrie grasped the card, speechless. Tears stung her eyes. Jean was such a good friend, the best. There was nothing she wouldn't give. Barrie felt undeserving of such devotion. . . Of such love.
Jean sighed as she started the car and drove away from the house. She frowned, deep in thought as she pulled into the heavily trafficked street. "I'm worried about you, Barrie. You're like a daughter to me—" An ear-splitting sound of rending metal tore apart the words. A flash of heat and a crushing impact that felt like a bomb struck Barrie. Dark silence followed.
Then, an impression of frantic voices and pulling hands. The pain, oh my God, the pain. Her body was one giant scrape, an open wound, and she couldn't help whimpering.
"She's conscious," a voice said from the darkness. "Can you tell me your name?"
Her tongue was thick, dry and swollen. "Barrie Trevor. I hurt bad."
"We'll give you something for the pain soon." It filtered into her mind that there must have been a car accident.
"Where's my friend? How is Jean?" she croaked.
Nobody answered. Barrie closed her eyes, the pain within growing near unbearable and overshadowing the mere throbbing ache of her body. She knew, she simply knew with certainty that Jean was dead.He came that night. She woke and he was standing there, staring at her, his light ice gray eyes burning.
"She said you are a predator, worse than a vampire," she whispered. She knew there was no point in lying to him. He knew.
He said nothing, of course, and she struggled to fill the silence. "She said you wanted to devour my soul." She forced out a dry, strained laugh. "That's ridiculous, isn't it? Isn't it?"
"The tiger feeds on living prey, as does the lion. He does it to survive." He moved a step closer. "The gazelle has no reason to take it personally," he said, his voice conversational.
She looked into his eyes, and understanding clicked, like a slide covering her vision and altering her view. She saw souls flickering behind his glowing irises. Those women that had came to her apartment with him. Those women she hadn't remembered until this instant. Those women who were torn apart alive and devoured so thoroughly that not even a drop of blood remained to stain her floors. He had torn the essences of them apart and somehow absorbed them, flesh, blood . . . and soul. The agony they suffered and were suffering still made her want to weep. This was worse than death, much worse.
"Now you know." His voice echoed hollowly. And she looked up at him, frozen in a prey's helpless terror. A rabbit waiting for the fox to tear it apart.
Something like a wind whooshed through the hospital room. He was knocked against the wall. There was an impression of a blowing white curtain, a thousand whispers. He moved toward her again, and again he was buffeted back by an unseen wind.
His flesh flickered a moment and appeared to melt then solidify. He threw his head back and roared, a silent and shattering mental roar. The woman in the bed next to her awoke from a deep, drugged sleep, and sat bolt upright in the bed and screamed at the top of her voice.
Barrie's cry joined hers, but she was screaming, "Jean, Jean," her friend, her best friend, her only true friend was in the room with her. She knew that she was as sure as seeing her in the flesh.
She heard the staff running toward the room and the Other flickered one last time and disappeared.
She felt something in her hand. A small blood-splotched white business card that hadn't been there before. Madame Francine's Services. The address was the same as the house they had left earlier.
She had a nurse hand her the phone. Barrie had a broken arm, a broken collar bone, huge raw open wounds where her skin had been scraped off and left on the hot asphalt where she'd been thrown. The doctor had said she'd been very lucky. No serious internal injuries. She wouldn't be able to run, but she could limp. But to where? She prayed that Madame Francine would help her.
The rich voice of the woman came over the phone on the first ring.
"Will you take a check?" Barrie asked.
"Dominic will be there to pick you up at the front of St. Mary's in twenty minutes," was the only thing Madame Francine said in reply.
Barrie hesitated, wondering how the woman knew about the accident and the hospital. "I'm a patient, they won't let me go just like that," she said.
"Can you walk?"
"I believe so."
"Dominic will be there to pick you up in the front in twenty minutes," Madame Francine repeated.
The nurses were outraged and she almost thought they would bodily prevent her from leaving. The mention of the word, "lawsuit" caused all their bluster to fade. She signed countless forms and was waiting in the front of the hospital when Dominic pulled up. She was terrified that Paul would come, but was comforted by the almost palpable presence of Jean's spirit.
Madame Francine's frown didn't lift even after Barrie signed the check. "This is dangerous to me," she said. "I'm helping you only because a good woman who crossed over too soon loved you as if you were her daughter. It remains to be seen if you are worthy of such love."
She didn't care what the woman thought about her. Five thousand dollars was enough reason for any dubious help she could give. Barrie felt like a shell, the trauma of the day had drained all the soft humanity from her. "Can it be destroyed?" she asked with stiff lips.
"What?"
"I asked if it could be destroyed?"
The woman was silent for a moment. "Nothing can be destroyed, only changed."
"It must be stopped. I have nothing to lose. If it's at all possible, I will stop it."
"You are not capable of . . ."
"Jean told me I could stop it."
The woman's coal black eyes softened and she stated what they both knew. "Jean is dead."
Barrie looked away. "She talks to me."
"Many talk to me. Nothing can be destroyed, just changed," the woman repeated.
"It wasn't supposed to be like this. Jean has a family and people who love her. I have nobody really, I love nobody and nobody loves me. That's what drew the Other to me, wasn't it? My soul is ripe for the taking. I don't belong to anyone."
"I'm surprised you realize that."
"I can set it right. I can stop the Other, and--"
"And you will pass from this life with certainty. You might be caught in an actual version of Christianity's mythical hell for time indefinite if you cannot vanquish it. You realize have to surrender to it?"
"With my luck, I figured as much. Then what?" Barrie asked.
"You won't go in alone. You would merely be the conduit. You have no conception of what it would take to battle the Other on the plane where most of it exists."
"Who will battle it? Jean?"
Hardly." The woman cocked her head as if she was listening. " Powerful souls, entities, essences of humanity, the earth and God, they will come to put the wrong right."
"He has killed many people?" Barrie asked, no longer questioning, knowing it was so.
"The evil in taking a life is only relative. The Other does far worse. It is an abomination against the All. It gather's souls and holds them in agony for eons, devouring them and removing them evermore from the wheel of life." Madame Francine stood with a quick movement. "Come. It's time. He's waiting for you."
Barrie stood, at a loss for what to do next.
"Dominic will give you the keys to the car," she said.
As Barrie left the room she heard her whisper, "May God have mercy on your soul." She'd barely opened the door to her apartment when he pounced on her and tore at her. She had no breath to scream. She was paralyzed and immobile. The rabbit finally being torn to pieces by the wolf. He devoured her alive, tearing her flesh and soul apart in huge gouts.
Barrie felt unbearable pressure. Then the pain came like coals burning into her flesh. A soundless scream tore her throat from the inside out. Red, burning flames eating her flesh. She felt the muscle of her outer thigh being ripped away and sharp teeth crunched her femur with unimaginable agony. Death. She prayed for the black nothing of death.
"There is no death," he said in her mind through her anguish.
Jean touched her then, blanketing her mind with memories of their life together, then all faded to black.
A light in the distance a tunnel. She rushed toward it but he snatched her. She saw him fully for the first time as his maw gaped to take her in. He was monstrous and huge. The human part she'd discerned was but a tiny appendage to the full horror of the Other. He pulled her within him and spirits rushed in with her. There was an impression of buffeting winds filled with many voices.
She was in too much pain to care. The pain of her body no longer existed, but something else took its place. Spears of burning ice pierced her as she hung in a featureless void twisting in agony. What felt like thousands of rats nibbled at her tearing away what felt like minuscule chunks of flesh in endlessly long, tiny rips. An uncountable number of human souls hung in the void with her. They were all being eaten, being slowly digested.
The veil lifted and she remembered. She remembered who she really was. "I AM," she whispered, and knowledge lit up within her like a thousand suns. She knew the purpose for the life she just led. She remembered the countless lives she lived before, the lessons she had learned and the lessons she had yet to learn. She was the wheel of life, the All. The suffering souls that hung with her had lived uncountable lives also. They were God and she was God, the Creator and the Destroyer.
This universe held only a finite number of souls. Not nearly enough to satisfy the hunger of the Others. When they were gone there would be . . . nothing. This could not be. It was an unspeakable offense against the very Cosmos. Her universe would not be the first the Others had destroyed. War raged.
She perceived the sounds of battle. Power shimmered and rippled in sheets through the void with unbearable whiteness that she recognized. The magic that holds the universe together ebbed and flowed. The now familiar fear filled her. What if the Other prevailed? The souls that were battling would join her. She writhed against the restrictions holding her, aching to join the fray despite her pain. The void caught gray, icy fire, and then burned with blue, red, and orange of earthly flames.
The Other roared, first painfully loud, then turning high-pitched and keening. She felt her kin drawing power from her and the entire universe for a final effort. Like a tear in paper that in one instant split what once was whole, the Other imploded into a mélange of particles and forces with no more sentience or being. It had but one part. The Others could never create, only mimic and destroy.

A second later, she was sitting on the edge of a cliff with Jean, the sound of waves buffeting the rocks below, the endless sky a riot of tranquil colors. "I'm so sorry," she said to Jean, regret twisting within her at all the opportunities she missed and the times she had failed in the past life she led.
"The Other is vanquished because of what you choose to give. Now, you're here where you should be."
Barrie smiled through her tears, recognizing Jean as beloved companion for eons, her friend, her mother, her child, her lover through so many different lives. "Could have been a hell of a lot worse. Shoot, we could have had to go to work tomorrow," Jean said with a grin.
Barrie wiped the traces of tears from the face that she still chose to manifest and gave a weak smile. She was right; now everything was as it should be. There was a war going on, and she would eventually join the battles, but for this moment in time the struggle was far away.
Jean stood and walked to the very edge of the cliff. "Want to fly?" she asked and held out her hand.
Barrie moved to stand beside her and curled her fingers around Jean's hand.