Chapter Text
Facilier had walked New Orleans long enough to know which roads meandered into dead ends and nothings like a dying tree's roots. The poor nested there like mice. Not that he had anything against the poor, or mice, given that he was the former and shared a house with the latter, but when it came time to hunt for souls, they made an ideal place to look. Cats and dogs hunted mice, and Facilier preferred predators for prey.
This white dog, for example, he'd spotted trawling the streets for girls. Facilier had been watching for twenty minutes now. He'd talk to girls on the street corners, listen, and he'd gone back with some scrawny kid some ten minutes past. Come out just now adjusting his belt, and the girl limping.
No one cared about where white men sowed their wild oats, in the neighborhoods where the only way to eat was to sell every piece of you that you had. Dogs ate mice. Natural way of things. If whites weren't meant to live on blacks, why was the world made that way? And who ever heard of a mouse eating a dog?
“Hey, you want to play a game?” Facilier cooed as the man walked past. He held a five dollar bill in one hand and a coin in the other. “Nothin' to lose but a lil' wager.”
The man gave him a look, top to toe, unimpressed; Facilier wasn't all that famous outside of his own community, barring a few exaggerated horror stories, which meant he was usually safe to do this kind of thing. When he did take souls, he took care not to let himself be connected to the deaths. After all, it wasn't him who did the collecting. A scraggly black man in threadbare clothes and relying on a timeworn cane was not a terribly frightening specter.
“What's the game?”
“Jus' a little wager for yer soul.” Facilier waggled the oversize rosary hanging from his neck. “I toss a coin. You tell me if it's in my left hand or my right hand. You lose, you let me have yer soul and I'll help you take it to a nice church. It'll be all tarnished here. You win, I'll give you this.” He waved the five dollar bill. The man watched it greedily. It was almost a day's wages; good money.
“Fine, then.” The man reached out, and Facilier shook his hand. It was a deal.
Facilier flipped the coin. He made an exaggerated catch with his left hand, and carefully dropped the coin down into his sleeve as he presented two closed and empty hands. "Which one?"
"Left."
Facilier opened his left hand and showed it was empty. "Fraid it's not there. A bet's a bet. Your soul is mine, so now - " Facilier said, and then there was a knife in his face. “Oh. Uh, here, sir.”
The man took the five dollars and the coin and left, muttering about stupid street performers and churches roping them into cockamamie plans. Facilier walked in the other direction, into an abandoned alleyway in the moonlight, and checked that no one else was around before dropping his simpering smile and pulling a mask out of his pocket.
It was about the size of his hand. Whoever had carved this one didn't have much finesse; the wood was roughly carved and the painting sloppy. Still, the alligator face was expressive. Ferocious. Hungry.
Facilier tossed it into a pool of moonlight. “Time to eat.”
The mask threw a shadow on the moonlight. Twitched. Shuddered. Grew. A head and shoulders burst from the concrete like a bather leaving the ocean. Thick arms pushed up and out to pry out the long body, and spines sprung up from the spine as if the concrete had compressed them. The legs pulled free of the concrete into spindly sticks with backwards knees. The mask clattered off as the long alligator jaws grew and pushed it away; it was only meant for human faces.
It looked at Facilier. It had almost dinosaur proportions, with the thick tail dragging between it's legs. Eyes as bright and white as the sun looked expectantly at Facilier.
“What are you waiting for? He's all yours. Just make sure not to be seen or the big one will chew you out again. You know the game,” Facilier said, and picked up the discarded mask. “Be back before sun-up.” The Friend chortled and sunk against the concrete, blending in with the normal shadows as it swam after prey.
One less soul off his debt. One burden off his back. Facilier walked home whistling, hung the mask on the wall, and fell deep into dreamless sleep.