[section]
The effigy--if it could have been seen--disappeared, subsumed into Shard's body. Shard found herself incapacitated. She kept her awareness but lost control of her body. Picayune took a full minute to adjust. He'd never occupied another being before, and it was an odd experience. Shard was still there; she just wasn't in control. He could sense an intangible wall, behind which lurked Shard's knowledge of the world. And she was powerful. Picayune shuddered with the thrill of possessing such a prime vessel.
Hoo, boy! De t'ings I kin do! Lawdy! He spun in a 360-degree circle, drunk on Shard's power. He bowed to Eurid. He curled her lips into a smile. He thought about doing several other unsavory things, but refrained.
She power-full. Mmm, hmm! Don' want her on my ass. No way, no how. Nossir. She whoop my tail up an' down Chartre Street!
In the end, Picayune folded Shard's body into a chair and settled down to focus. He rifled through his thoughts, doing his best to project images and memory to her. He played a montage of scenes of loss, hurt, and love. Waking up in the small hours of the morning on a Sunday and making love to his son's mother. Watching a storm roll through Kenner. Standing in the hot June rain by Jackson Square, hoping for leavings from tourists. How he felt his first jazz procession. Breasts and beads at Zulu. So drunk on Mezcal that he passed out cold in a gutter. A nutria larger than a dog crawling out of the canal to survey the world. And then image after image of water invading the city, flooding everything. Fear in folks' eyes, a panicked fight over food that ended with a small boy shot and left to die. The smell of fetid waste. A body floating by in eight feet of water. And, beneath it all, a rock-hard yearning to be home.
It was hard to give up Shard's form. She felt
so damned good. She was the first human contact he'd had in some time, and he didn't want to decamp. After another full minute of dickering over whether to leave, he bit the bullet and exited. Gave her back her body. But not without looking in longing at her once he let her be free.
Damn, girl. You a fine, fine woman. And then he hoped she didn't stab him with a rusty spoon for his stunt.[/section]