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That ain't why you feel better, boy. you have a pur-
pose. First goddamn time in your life.
Yeah? Maybe I do. But it'll be my purpose, and fuck you very much.
He attacked the book thus surprisingly inspired, and flipped through
mind-numbing explanations of drum types and geography. He'd never been able to
read dry crap like this. The second half of the book was an analysis of drum
code. The book broke the codes down into simple beats little black stick
figures dancing across the page represented the beat patterns. The writer
compared it to Morse code, only the "phrases" as he called them represented
concepts, not letters of the alphabet.
For example, one type of phrase represented locations. The location code
always began with a triple beat pattern. What followed determined which of the
locations was being set; the vil-
lage (double short beat, long beat), the next village (double short beat,
double short beat), the river (long beat, double short beat), the swamp (long
beat, short beat), the big tree (short beat, short beat, long beat), and so
on.
Other types of phrases included activities
(such as meals, dances, hunting expeditions, and conclaves), times (morning,
night, today, tomorrow, next moon, etc.), and the names of people in the
tribe, each of whom had their own beat pattern.
After garnishing this much, Gabriel tried to fine-tune his ear to the drummer.
It took him a
while to be able to distinguish the beats. Double beat (tap-tap) was different
from two short beats
(tap, tap) by virtue of the fact that it was much faster. Triple beats, too,
were recognizable once he'd figured that much out (tap-tap-tap). Long beats
seemed to be struck lower on the drum and with a heavier, flatter hand (thum).
Once he could hear the different beat types, he started trying to match the
patterns the drummer was sending against the book. It was damn hard.
By the time he'd identified the marker for a phrase type, the actual phrase
itself was long over with and a new phrase marker was under way. It was giving
him a brain cramp. This kind of minute detail work was much more up Grace's
mental alley, he knew Gabriel himself preferred the "big picture." But he
stuck with it.
It took him two hours, but in the end he had translated the drummer's message.
The drummer was sending the same thing over and over and over and over.
Gabriel grew so familiar with that pattern he thought he'd never get it out of
his mind, like the alien message from Close Encounters
(da, da, da, da, DAAAA). This one was a bit lengthier (tap-tap-tap, thum, tap,
tap-tap-tap, tap-tap, tap-tap-tap, tap, thum, thum, tap, tap-tap-tap, thum,
tap-tap-tap, tap-tap, tap, tap, tap), but it had a good beat and you could
dance to it.
It said "Conclave Tonight Swamp." Naturally.
It was St. John's Eve.
Gabriel headed out from the park. He thought he knew where "the swamp" meant,
generally speaking. Hadn't Dr. John talked about the early
Voodoos meeting at Lake Pontchartrain and
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Bayou St. John? Lake Pontchartrain was obviously still being used for
conclaves. Or, at the very least, it was a good enough site for murder. Bayou
St.
John made sense, particularly for St. John's Eve.
But where in the bayou? It was a protected area now, and not exactly small in
scale. Hell, he'd barely found his way through the halls of Tulane when they
hadn't wanted him to. He could wander in that swamp all night.
What are you thinking about, white boy? Whatever may or may not be happenin'
in the swamp tonight, you're not invited.
This voice sounded amazingly like Grace. He ignored it. He hadn't dished out a
hundred bucks for that crocodile head for nothing.
He aimed for the police station. He had
Mosely's key and he wanted to take a look around
that office. Melodrama or no, Mosely thought there might be things in there
Gabriel could use.
Gabriel wasn't one to refuse a free offer.
When he entered the station, something didn't feel right. Officer Prick was at
the counter, as usual, but he looked at Gabriel with lidded eyes, like a
snake. Gabriel hadn't thought the man smart enough for an expression like
that.
He tried to go through the swinging gate to the back offices, as he had been
allowed to do for the past week. He wasn't surprised when
Prick's voice halted him.
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