Disclaimer: Rights go to Disney.

Addressing a review: I am aware that "Y'all" is a contraction of the plural "You all," but it's not unusual to hear someone use it as if it were singular and directed at one person, as well as in the proper plural. It's rather like how we often use "There is" with a plural noun (i.e. There is some things over there). It's incorrect, but that's how we speak. I'm following the more realistic approach of how people normally converse rather than perfect grammar.

Now, I have a little guessing game for you all. The title of this fic, L'ombre de Samedi, means "Saturday's Shadow" or "The Shadow of/on Saturday." There are multiple meanings both for L'ombre (Shadow) and Samedi (Saturday). Hints of those are already within the story and will be throughout. I challenge you to figure them out.

Samedi is pronounced as "Saam-dee."

"Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage."

-Shakespeare

L'ombre de Samedi

La Chatte et Les Cartes

The Cat and the Cards

Nearly a year ago now, the teeth of Papa Legba Atibon, the chief spirit who granted favors and thus was honored with the largest mask, closed behind Dr. Facilier. Facilier expected immediate oblivion: Silence; darkness; and death. Instead, he found himself back inside his own emporium, the table and chairs cleared away except for one, his own. He sat in it, facing the many carved, leering masks that hung above him. The room was dark, except for their eyes and the runes on the floor, which cast faint green and purple glows.

Purgatory. The fear that was wrapped around Facilier's heart shot through his veins with fresh life, and he tried to leap from the chair. But as when he had tried to escape Atibon, he did not succeed: His arms were stuck to the armrests, his feet were glued to the floor. He was a prisoner by his own design. Facilier twisted his head around and managed to look over his shoulder, but there was no door behind him at the end of the room, only darkness. From this darkness came the Shadows.

They slipped up onto the stage. "Asseyez-vous," they whispered together to their guest, their voices echoing from every direction, and Facilier looked around wildly for one source, but there was none. The dark shapes were surrounding him, drifting across the walls, the curtains, and at his feet, trapping him within the circle of the stage.

"Votre chapeau, monsieur," said one, and it reached up and plucked off his hat. Facilier, his hair damp with sweat and plastered to the sides of his face, cringed away from the contact. He knew that they were mocking him, mocking him with a service he used to do for his own customers.

The top hat was tossed up towards the ceiling. Facilier watched, transfixed, as it was passed from spirit to spirit, its purple feather bobbing with an unsettling cheeriness. The hat was inspected and toyed with by each Shadow, and then, when it came full circle, shredded with brutal finality. With a chill, Facilier was given a rather vivid idea of what they would do with his soul, which was as much property to The Other Side as his hat had been to him.

The scraps of the hat drifted to the floor, and the masks sneered down from above, knowing Facilier's thoughts. The Shadows' shoulders shook with silent laughter, and then they dove down from the walls and crept across the floor towards Facilier's chair. Understanding what was about to happen, Facilier struggled to find his tongue.

"S'il vous plait, Mes Amis," he stammered, forgetting his English as they came closer, although it made no difference to the spirits who knew every language that had lived and died. "Je peux recevoir pour vous les âmes de Nouveau Orléans...I can still get you those souls!"

There were no ears to hear his pleas. The masks watched as silent judges while long, dark arms shot out and reached for Facilier. Instead of trying to leap out of his chair this time, he went to scramble backwards, away from the spirits, further into his chair, anywhere, but his arms and legs remained petrified by no will of his own.

The closest hands wrapped around his ankles. Their touch was cold, terrifying. "Y'all been good to me, and I been good to you in the past! We don't got much time! Donnez-moi une chance!" Facilier shrieked, his panic escalating as it had been in the cemetery. "Another chance!"

The voodoo doctor tried to say something else, tried desperately to pitch some new deals that would save his skin like they always had since the day he'd made his pact. But when his mouth moved, it moved on its own, and from it were nothing but reissues of all the promises he had made to The Other Side before.

"This is just a minor setback in a major operation!"

In the corner, a grandfather clock that needed to be wound creakily began to chime the hour. Facilier strained to count how many chimes there were, hardly able to ignore the eerie sensation that was creeping up his legs. Cold air brushed by his ear, and his shoulders tensed. He could feel the presence of a Shadow there, chanting the number of chimes for him into his ear. One, two...three...four...

Facilier hadn't known his mouth had opened again until he heard his own voice yell, "I promise I'll pay y'all back!"

Nine...ten, whispered the Shadow, and then stopped as the clock chimed eleven. The last second hung there for a long moment, for Their amusement and Facilier's dread.

"Just a little more time!"

He somehow hadn't seen them pull open his jacket and steal his deck of Tarot Cards from the inside pocket. But he did see the card one of them held, floating inches away from his eyes. It was a black card, with skeletons dancing under the moonlight, the smoke of incense and candles and cigarettes burning at their feet. Across the top of the card was a number, a roman numeral in three digits.

The clock struck twelve. The Shadows stopped shifting and the masks paused; Facilier's mouth snapped shut, and the room quieted. Then, slowly, Facilier felt a strange, unexpected calm settle over him at that final chime, and his lips slowly spread into a crooked smile.

"Well, Friends," he said, his voice hoarse from yelling, "if Prince Froggy is still locked up tight, he won't have found no one to kiss him back into a human. If he's still a frog, then so is that meddlesome young lady who broke your talisman." He leaned back into his chair, almost relaxing, and flicked the card hanging in front of him away. It spun in the air and landed on the floor.

"Now I know y'all only care for souls, but at least we have that as part of our vengeance." He could only smile more as the masks glared down at him and the Shadows wrapped around him swayed restlessly. They knew that he had nothing left to offer. He was finished, and had little left to lose now, anyway. What was a soul? He had delivered so many to The Other Side that he imagined that it wouldn't be very different for it to be his own.

Sensing his acquiescence, the Shadows suddenly fell away from Facilier and dove underneath the chair, where his own shadow had been cowering. They dragged it out and tore it away from him, then pinned it down a short distance away, cackling in hideous, unintelligible voices. His shadow pleaded, its hands raised in defense and its mouth moving in the same language.

"Inutile," the spirits hissed back as one, and Facilier understood the word. Inutile. Useless.

With that spoken, the Shadows proceeded to devour their comrade. There were so many piled on that Facilier only caught a horrifying second of a flailing arm and clawed hand, once, before it disappeared. It didn't take long for the Shadows to finish and move away, visibly engorged from their act of cannibalism, and nothing of Facilier's own shadow remained.

Before Facilier could truly react to the gruesome, faceless death, the Shadows returned to the chair and grabbed him by his necklace of dangling teeth, by his hair, by his jacket. "Votre âme! Your soul!" they chattered, their teeth gnashing. Then their mouths split open into wide leers, and Dr. Facilier paid his due.

Dr. Facilier had not expected to see Charlotte La Bouff – or the inside of his emporium, or any of Louisiana at all - again, despite the schemes and plans of revenge that roiled in his consciousness during his restless, monotonous existence as an indebted soul to The Other Side. But when the call of servitude from The Outside came, and all the spirits crowded around inside the mouth of Papa Legba Atibon as his teeth parted, hungry for a chance to leave and hunt for souls, it was her face that swam into view in the swirling mists of the portal.

Facilier remembered Charlotte with an ease of yesterday. She was a wealthy southern débutante, a young lady with unbridled energy that other souls envied, not a care in the world except for true love and friendship. But, the important detail was that she had a rich daddy with all of New Orleans on a string if he so wished.

It was too coincidental for Facilier's tastes, to find himself crowded in with the other spirits, gazing out with shadowy eyes into the dim interior of his own emporium, and to see the object of many of his schemes for New Orleans standing there staring back. Quelle coincidence, as the saying went. Charlotte did not seem to have even the faintest idea about what was happening. She was dressed in fine evening clothes, obviously on her way to somewhere else, clutching a well-fed white cat that looked as terrified as she did.

The Shadows waited eagerly to be called by this young woman, but Facilier understood that the rest of the ritual would not be happening. Blood had been spilled somewhere in his emporium, but Charlotte was making no move to speak any incantations, and he alone among these Shadows knew that she had no ambitions with voodoo magic.

Why, he owed her a favor.

Before the blood offering could expire and Papa Legba Atibon's mouth would close, Facilier eased forward among the clot of Shadows, getting as close to Atibon's teeth as possible. All the others were too busy chomping at the bit and listening for Charlotte's voice to even guess at his intentions, so he darted forward during their distraction, clawed his way up the pit of the resting tongue, curled around one large tooth on the lower set of teeth, and slipped down the jaw.

As soon as he had touched the floor, furious howls erupted from the mouth behind him. Facilier imagined pursuit, long arms reaching out to drag him back to The Other Side, and he fled past Charlotte's trembling figure and found refuge in the dark, dusty space underneath the old piano.

The masks' eyes searched the room angrily for him, smoke escaping their flared nostrils. Beyond the portal, in flashes, the other Shadows could be seen moving around in agitation, but none came through. From his hiding place, Facilier became at ease. If the portal closed while any Shadows were outside of it, they would have no way of returning without help. Without direction, they would wander; without someone to provide them souls, they would die. If they returned to The Other Side, they would be devoured.

Facilier smiled with his teeth. Those conditions suited him fine.

It seemed that The Other Side could no longer wait for Charlotte, or had no interest in doing so, because Papa Atibon's mouth slammed shut, the curtains dropped, and darkness fell across the room. The masks became still and silent once more, their eyes and the flooring beneath them no longer aglow. The only light that was still on was the flickery old bulb hanging above his table, swinging with a gust of air caused by the curtains' closure.

Charlotte hadn't left yet. She was still standing in the exact same place, trembling, and Facilier crept out from the piano's shadow. As a spirit he suspected that he had lost the abilities to read her palm or her cards, so the least he could do was introduce himself. He sneaked up onto the stage, mimicked sweeping off his hat like a gentleman to her, and said softly, "Enchanté..."

And then he performed a little vanishing trick. Facilier was pleased to find that he hadn't lost his edge, because Charlotte stammered something in bewilderment, staring at the spot where he had been. He watched from by the curtains in the corner, amused, as she backed up all the way to the exit, then stepped off the threshold and slammed the door shut. Faintly, her footsteps could be heard hurrying away across the stones of the courtyard outside.

With her gone, Facilier, after checking to make sure his "Friends" weren't watching through the eyes of the masks above or the dolls on the shelves, approached his table. It was covered with a fine layer of dust from disuse, but he could not know for how long it had been that way. He examined the disturbed cards on the table and then found the few small drops of blood drying on his floor. Well. The summoning may have expired, but that girl had a pact with the voodoo spirits now, and once she accrued debt, her soul was bound forever until she paid it off...if she was able to manage such a thing.

Facilier brooded over the possibilities, and after a moment, he slithered down the steps, across the carpet, and towards the door. It lead to the outside, but it would not lead to his freedom. To get what he wanted, he would have to be stackin' up Charlotte's debt real soon.

Facilier swept underneath the door and into the deepening twilight to follow her.

Much later that night, when the moon was high and the city finally slept, Facilier returned to New Orleans in a foul temper. He hadn't gone to Mama Odie's expecting a cure, but the journey had been a waste of his time. Not only had she tried to make a fool out of him, he had been unable to find anything in that broken-down boathouse that would be useful to him. Then Mama Odie added insult to injury by sending fireflies to chase him out, and they had harassed him until he had escaped from the bayou.

Nevertheless, Facilier found it invigorating to be free of The Other Side and back where he belonged – his home, New Orleans – even if he was nothing more than a wretched spirit with his body destroyed and all of his voodoo magic stripped from him. He had plans to solve all of his problems – including his still-lingering debt and winning over his Friends again. If he didn't succeed, well...a man like him didn't need reminding after witnessing what had happened to his shadow. His own soul would be eaten by his fellow spirits if he displeased them; they seemed to enjoy devouring one another when they were starved enough.

These were obstacles that would need addressing, but it was not nearly enough to ruin Facilier's mood. No, Mama Odie had merely been the final straw for tonight. Things first began to unravel when he had followed Charlotte and Big Daddy La Bouff (who both hardly looked different from the last time he had seem them) in their automobile, ending up at the edge of town that was hosting the big opening night of a restaurant going by the name of Tiana's Palace.

It was almost as magnificent as the one he had offered. Facilier seethed at that kept memory, lurking in the shadow of a building across the street as the La Bouffs got out of their parked automobile and walked up the road towards the restaurant's entrance.

Facilier did a little investigating for himself, slipping into one of the alleys next to the restaurant and observing the going-ons inside through the window glass. There was a live jazz band playing up on the stage, and in the corner of his vision, a waiter strode from some double kitchen doors. Facilier followed the young man with his eyes as took off with a brisk walk towards the main entrance.

He disappeared from Facilier's line of sight for a short time. When he returned, he was leading Charlotte, Daddy La Bouff, and...Facilier closed his spindly hands around the window ledge tightly, staring at them. Prince Froggy, for some reason human again and smilin' like a fool.

How? Naveen had been locked away; it didn't seem possible that someone would have found him before midnight. Facilier wanted to spit and curse. He should've known that there would've been another loophole in his plan that he had somehow, somehow, missed. It was as if all the fates were conspiring against him, because he had been holding a run of bad luck ever since he had bargained for that talisman.

The La Bouffs sat themselves down at a table with Tiana's mother and an aging couple with a young boy that Facilier understood to be the king and queen of Maldonia with one of their other sons. As they talked and laughed, their voices muted by the glass, Facilier watched and schemed. If he still wanted that La Bouff fortune and power, he would have to find a new way to dispose of Big Daddy. But revenge on Naveen and Tiana seemed the sweeter of the two. And Charlotte, sweet Lottie, would be the star of it all....

As the restaurant quickly filled with customers, and table after table became seated with people, Facilier found himself distracted. His eyes kept drifting to the other people around the room, strangers with no significance, and an agitated sensation began to grow in him.

It was la faim. Hunger. From his own life Facilier had always understood hunger, and he dismissed the Shadows' constant chatter about being hungry as single minded, but now that gnawing feeling was taking over his mind in ways that it never had before when he was human. The more that he thought of it, the more maddening it was to watch all the people inside, people with tangible bodies and freedom and souls.

Tiana appeared at the table with her beau at her side. Dr. Facilier almost wanted to sigh, Tiana, Tiana, Tiana. Not only had she turned down his fine offer and resisted his charm – and ain't nobody rejected Dr. Facilier – she had broken his prized talisman and got him dragged to The Other Side. The unaccounted for, simple little waitress somehow had gotten everything she ever wanted – her restaurant, becoming human again – while he had lost everything.

He would find out how, and why, and he would make sure that she would regret not taking his deal.

Feeling vengeful, Facilier went around to the back of the building, staying close to the shadows cast by the walls. There was a rear door, and it was opened to receive the cool air coming off of the water. It revealed a view of the kitchen, which was crowded and bustling with the activity of chefs and waiters.

Facilier looked for more subtle points of entry. Up a short way was a noisy vent, so he scaled the wall and slipped inside. At the other end was a set of metal slats, which he peered through to observe the inside of the kitchen. A stove was full of sizzling pots and pans just below him; silverware was pulled from drawers and glasses from shelves; knives raced across cutting boards and large trays were lifted above heads. Everybody was preoccupied with their own tasks, in particular a young waiter who was balancing some bowls of hot soup on a tray nearby. A malicious idea quickly formed in Facilier's mind.

The gasp from the waiter and the resulting crash of glass and china was quite satisfying to hear. Facilier, having returned safely back to his hiding place, laughed to himself at the unfolding scene of disruption, but the feeling faded disappointingly fast. Any more sabotage would have to wait, for now; he could hardly focus with all these lively, anxious souls all pressed together in this small room. A solution to his little hunger problem was needed first, and the only person who he could think of that would be any use in this matter was a certain Mama Odie.

Before leaving the kitchen, Facilier caught a broken glimpse of himself in the many pots and pan that hung from the ceiling. There were the outlines of his hat with the feather, the broad shoulders of his jacket, his pants and his shoes. But otherwise, he was like the rest of the Shadows: A silhouette of empty eyes, unnaturally long arms and clawed hands, and a wide mouth full of sharp teeth.

With much to think about, Facilier slipped through the dark, narrow alley that lead back to the courtyard with its twisted tree. He went to rest in one of its dark corners, near to where the statue stood by his emporium's door. Shadows could not sleep, so he spent his time brooding, conjuring up possible ways in his mind to win back his Friends' favor, a body, and revenge. Daddy La Bouff's little darlin' Charlotte was the key, like she had been in his last grand scheme, and could easily be manipulated. Now, how would he use a young woman unknowingly tied to voodoo – compensating for the access to voodoo magic that he now lacked – to his own ends?

There was a soft creak, and the door to the emporium went slightly ajar. It wasn't a breeze that had disturbed it, but a cat, black as coal pitch, which nudged it open and walked out. It turned its head and stared directly at Facilier with its luminous yellow eyes, a dead mouse hanging from its mouth. Its almost-skeletal build indicated that it was a stray, and it had visited a place saturated with magic and observed the stranger before it neutrally.

Facilier gazed back, his mood improving at this good omen. "Bon soir, ma chatte," he greeted. "Good evening."

The cat's tail twitched in what Facilier would take as a pleased to make your acquaintance, and it dropped the mouse to the courtyard stones. It looked down, studying it, then batted it back and forth idly, although its catch was clearly already dead. Facilier extended his arm across the stones, then flicked the mouse up into the air. The cat reached up and batted it back to the ground. Facilier repeated the motion, idly entertained, and the cat responded in the same way each time.

After a few more of these exchanges, they were on good terms. Facilier moved forward and began circling around the cat in a slow, hypnotic fashion, and the animal turned its head, following him with its eyes.

"Ma chatte," he began. "A friend is in need of your assistance. I seem to have lost somethin' important, and I need help from y'all gettin' it back."

Facilier stopped circling and went by the door, gesturing to it with his spindly hand. "Now I promise, it ain't difficult to recover. It's a simple deck of cards, restin' up on top of that covered table inside." He could no longer conjure images, so he made do with gestures, then dropped his arms and bowed with a tinge of mockery. "It would be much appreciated if you could bring them to me."

The cat gazed at him silently, listening but giving no indication of a yes or a no. Far from deterred, Facilier nodded to the dead mouse at its feet. "If I tried gettin' it myself, I'm afraid I'd meet the same fate as that mouse y'all so cleverly caught."

He reached out again and tossed the mouse carelessly into the air by its tail. When it came down, the cat sprang up and neatly caught it in its mouth. With its prize regained, it lay down on the stones and began to chew. Facilier watched, letting the crunch of mouse bones fill the silence for a few beats before he spoke again.

"I'm hungry myself, but finding somethin' for me to eat won't be as easy," he said, somewhat giving a pretense of nonchalance. "It ain't as simple as money. I'll need..." he paused, searching for the word, something that was happening with a frequency that was beginning to aggravate him. "Les âmes. Souls."

Facilier appraised the cat carefully. It gave no sign of acknowledgment, and it continued its meal without even looking toward him. But Facilier was a patient enough man, and he waited. Once the cat had finished eating, and licked its paws and smoothed over its whiskers, it met his gaze again. Then it turned around and slipped back inside the emporium through the still-open door.

A minute later it came back outside, a small, empty pouch in its mouth. It deposited it beside Facilier and went inside again, and the next time it returned, a short stack of cards was carefully balanced in its mouth.

"Now we're gettin' somewhere," Facilier said, rubbing his hands together in anticipation as the cat carefully set the first of his tarot cards down. It turned right around and went back indoors, and two more trips later all the cards were laid out in piles on the stones.

Facilier slipped the cards into the pouch that had been provided, manipulating the shadows easily. His new companion sat patiently, keeping still when he tied and secured the drawstring bag to its back, like a carrying pack. When he was finished, he scratched the cat's ears briefly, and as it purred he said, "With these, a lot more could be within our grasp soon."

He brought his hand away and gestured to the alley, and when lamplight eyes followed the movement, a smile curled Facilier's mouth. "Well, Friend, Mon Amie de Samedi, shall we?"

Samedi padded after Facilier in the direction of the main street, and together, they set their sights on the richest estate in town.