Spell or High Water Page 4

  My task was to pick up the stone from Tansy’s friend Jasmina, who apparently was some sort of a priestess with mystical powers I can’t claim to understand. She lived deep in the bayou, where the dense cover of trees, thick with Spanish moss, blocks the heat of the summer sun. Originally, our instruction from Tansy was to meet another friend of hers, a magic shop owner named Devalinda, near the French Quarter, later this evening. She, Tansy assured us, would provide us with a map, which would lead us to the guide who would take us to a small house deep in the bayou, where Jasmina lived. When Bella called now, however, she informed us that Devalinda couldn’t see us as planned, so we needed to go to a different magic shop on another dingy corner and talk to a woman named Drusilla about the map. I figured one magic shop was the same as another, and we had a half hour before we were to meet with Tansy’s contact, so I agreed to the change.

  Of course, things are never as easy as they sound.

  “This is it,” Cody said, pausing outside a very crowded bar.

  The music seeping from the interior of La Fleur Noire wasn’t at all what I expected. It was deep and sensuous, with an alluring beat that touched your soul, drawing you into its hypnotic power despite any resistance you thought you might have had. Upon entering the dark room, we found it to be packed with men and women draped around each other in some sort of orgy simulation, although everyone was fully dressed. Well, sort of. There were a few women who barely wore enough to be defined as being fully dressed. With the heat, though, who could blame them?

  “What are you drinking?” A tall, thin man with dark skin, dark hair, and dark eyes, gazed at me with such an intent stare that I found myself trying to look away.

  “We’re looking for Eden,” Cody answered as I tried to break away from the man’s gaze. “Devalinda sent us.”

  “Top of the stairs and to the right.”

  Cody thanked the man, then pulled me after him. While I’d been decidedly hot and sweaty before entering the bar, since entering it, I’d been drawn into the primal beat of the music and was becoming hot and sweaty in an entirely different way.

  “Are you sure this is a good idea?” I asked as Cody led me through the writhing bodies on the dance floor toward the stairs.

  “I’m pretty sure it’s a terrible idea. Do you have a better one?”

  “Other than going to the hotel for a cold shower, a cold drink, and a hot fiancé, not really.”

  “Just a few more minutes.” Cody squeezed my hand.

  After we reached the second floor we headed down the hallway to a room with long strands of beads from floor to ceiling where a door should have been. Should we knock? I didn’t see how. Cody apparently had the same thought because he drew back the beads and walked in. The walls of the room were painted a dark purple that contrasted nicely with the plush carpet in a soft mauve. There was a small white sofa, which was flanked by white chairs in front of a fireplace made of white brick. Given the stifling heat of the day, I couldn’t imagine it ever being cool enough to want to enjoy a crackling fire here, but perhaps for a few months out of the year.

  The most interesting thing in the room, I decided, were the black flowers displayed in white vases on almost every surface. I supposed they were fitting: La Fleur Noire translated to The Black Flower in English.

  Cody and I stood there for maybe thirty seconds before a tiny woman with straight black hair down to her waist floated in, a large brown cat following her.

  “Eden?” Cody asked, as I realized the cat was the same one we’d been seeing all day.

  The woman nodded and gestured with her hand for us to take a seat on the sofa. I glanced at Cody, and he nodded, so I followed his lead and did so.

  “You have come for the map,” the woman said with a deep voice bearing a strong Creole accent.

  “Yes,” Cody answered. “Devalinda sent us to fetch it.”

  Eden glided across the room, then sat down on a coffee table across from where we were sitting on the sofa. She faced me, then took both my hands in hers. She turned them over so they were palms up. “You are a keeper of the magic.”

  I glanced at Cody. He shrugged. I responded. “I assume you’re talking about the cats.” Back home on Madrona Island, I, for reasons unbeknownst to me, had been entrusted with the role of working with the magical cats who helped me solve the endless mysteries that seemed to fall into my lap.

  Eden didn’t speak. She let go of my hands and then put her hands on my cheeks. She looked deeply into my blue eyes with eyes so dark you couldn’t differentiate the pupil from the iris. I guess she must have been satisfied with what she saw there, because she got up, crossed the room, and then took an envelope from the drawer of what appeared to be a small desk. She returned and handed it to me. “Baptiste will meet you at the spot designated on the map at ten o’clock tomorrow night.”

  “Night?” I almost screeched. I wasn’t at all thrilled about the idea of venturing into the bayou during the day, but I definitely wasn’t prepared to go into a swamp teeming with alligators and snakes after dark.

  Eden didn’t respond to me, instead floating out of the room as effortlessly as she’d arrived. Cody and I paused for a moment, then let ourselves out. Once free of the allure of La Fleur Noire, we headed back through the crowded city toward the sanctity of our air-conditioned hotel.

  “Did you notice the cat with Eden?” I asked as we set off down the street.

  “It looked like the same cat we’ve been seeing all day.”

  “That’s what I thought. I know it was at the magic shop and the police station, and I’m sure I saw it in the alley near the butcher shop. It was lingering in the background at the gallery as well.”

  “I guess it might be linked to this crazy journey we’re taking,” Cody said.

  I thought back, trying to remember if I had, indeed, seen the cat in each location I’d mentioned. After Cody’s interview we’d headed to Drusilla’s magic shop. I remember walking into the store and being momentarily intrigued by all the items displayed on the shelves and countertops. There had been a cat sitting on one of the counters, and I saw it jump down and go up the stairs. I’d instinctively followed it. At the top of the stairs was a hallway. I saw the cat slip into a room with an open door, and I followed it to find two police officers standing over a puddle of blood. I later learned that blood was believed to have belonged to the shop owner, who’d been reported missing. Once the police officers noticed I looked a whole lot like the voodoo doll lying in the puddle of blood, Cody and I were escorted to the police station, where we were interviewed by a dark-skinned man who introduced himself as Officer Despre.

  I didn’t remember seeing the cat there until after the interview, but I couldn’t forget the irritation I’d felt as the man took his sweet time asking us the same questions over and over again. No, I didn’t know why the doll, which had long curly hair like mine, also happened to be wearing a shirt that looked almost identical to the one I’d chosen to wear today. And no, I didn’t know how anyone would even know the color of the shirt I’d be wearing, unless they had been at the television station that morning. And finally, no, I didn’t know why anyone, would take the time to make a doll, that everyone could see, had been created to look like me.

  It was at the police station that our crazy day really took off. As our visit there rounded the two-hour mark, I was offered the chance to visit the ladies’ room, which I took. Officer Despre pointed to the hallway and told me it was the third door on the left. I was just passing the second door on the right when the cat darted past me. I remembered it from the magic shop and followed it until a tall woman in a police uniform pulled me into what looked to be a file room. Before I could utter a word, she put a piece of paper into my hand, whispered what sounded like a curse in a language I didn’t understand, then shoved me out into the hallway. I shrugged my shoulders, continued to the ladies’ room, then stopped to read the note there.

  Lafitte’s at four. Order a General Jackson.

  I’
d stuck the note in my pocket, quickly refreshed myself, and returned to the interrogation room, where Cody waited with Officer Despre. When we were finally free to go I showed Cody the note.

  “There’s a bar called Lafitte’s Blacksmith Shop Bar,” Cody informed me. “It’s on Bourbon Street.”

  As instructed, we’d arrived at Lafitte’s at four o’clock. And there was what I was sure was the same cat I’d seen in the magic shop and the police station, sitting on top of the bar. I wondered if I should interact with it in some way, but the note hadn’t said anything about it, so we sat down on two of the stools and ordered General Jacksons. We were served icy drinks in Styrofoam cups. On the bottom of mine was a name and address, which led us to a narrow alley in a seedy part of the city. I wasn’t sure which of the deteriorating doors I should knock on until the same cat we’d been seeing all day appeared again and led us to the door of what we thought was a butcher shop. At least I hoped it was a butcher shop, because there was blood on the apron of the man who answered the door, as well as on the floor inside. The smell of death and decay was overwhelming. I honestly didn’t think I’d be able to go very far into the stifling interior. Fortunately, the man seemed to know who we were and why we were there, and immediately gave us a note directing us to an art gallery featuring local art in the French Quarter.

  In the gallery, a quick look through the window revealed an eclectic collection of art depicting New Orleans, the bayous, and colorful art with what I thought must be a voodoo theme. The gallery was appropriately called Laveau’s, and it was closed when we arrived, though a woman was cleaning inside. I wondered whether the owner had hired a woman as a janitor, but the bright colors and fine fabric of the woman’s light, airy dress, and the cat that was following her around suggested she might be the owner herself, and the person we were there to meet. We knocked on the door and she waved us in. She introduced herself before offering us a brief tour.

  “I’d love one,” I’d said before Cody could say something that might ruin my chance to spend some time in the interior of an air-conditioned building.

  “The art in the main gallery is really different,” Cody had responded. “Almost sensual but not overtly.”

  “Tish is a very talented artist. Come with me. I have more of her stuff in the back.”

  The art in the gallery moved me in a way I didn’t quite understand. One oil painting of an old plantation house had me shedding an actual tear.

  “You look like her,” the gallery owner had said.

  “Her?” I’d asked.

  “The mistress of the house.” She picked up a book and turned to a page which featured a photograph of a couple standing in front of the house. “This is the owner and his young wife.”

  I’m pretty sure my heart stopped beating at that point. I’m still not sure how I knew it, but when I looked at the photo, the man’s name tumbled from my lips. “Pierre.”

  “Yes,” she said with a smile. “I see you’re familiar with the history of the house. Pierre Beaumont married Fiona Murphy in 1898. It was quite the scandal because Pierre was a wealthy man with a French heritage and Fiona was an Irish immigrant without a penny to her name.”

  I glanced at Cody. He hadn’t said anything, but the frown on his face spoke volumes.

  “They had a baby,” I said, almost without realizing I had spoken. “A girl. Abigail.”

  “That’s right,” she confirmed. “Fiona got sick and died shortly after the baby’s birth. Pierre tried to raise her on his own, but he was so overcome with grief that he eventually gave the baby to her maternal grandmother to raise.”

  “Grand-mère,” I’d whispered.

  “That’s right. Although Pierre felt he couldn’t raise the child on his own, he provided for her financially, and Abigail went on to attend college. She never married and died young, but she published several novels before her death that are actually quite good.”

  “Are the books still in print?” I asked.

  “No. But you can find copies of them in the local library and museum. Are you a writer?”

  “No, but I co-own a bookstore: Coffee Cat Books. It’s actually a bookstore combined with a coffee bar and a cat lounge.”

  The woman smiled. “It sounds delightful.”

  “If you ever make it to Madrona Island in Washington State, be sure to stop by.”

  “I will. And do check out the novels. I think you’ll find them very revealing.”

  I promised I would and she continued the tour. By the time it was over I’d cooled off a bit and felt much better prepared for whatever came next. I thanked the woman as she handed me yet another note, this one appearing to have been written by Devalinda, the witchy friend Tansy had directed us to in the first place. It led us to Eden at La Fleur Noire, which brings you up to the present.

  “Cody,” I said after we’d been quiet for several minutes.

  “Yeah?”

  “Don’t you think it’s odd that both the voodoo doll in the magic shop and the woman in the photo looked an awful lot like me?”

  His arm tightened around my shoulders as we left the congestion of the French Quarter behind. “Yes, I do. What I think is even stranger was that you knew the name of the man in the photo even before the gallery owner said it to us.”

  I frowned. “The name popped into my head and escaped my lips almost before I formed the thought. I might have seen the photo before, or read about the couple somewhere, but I don’t think that’s it.”

  “You think you had a vision?”

  I shook my head. “More like a memory.”

  Cody didn’t respond. Not that I blamed him. I mean really, what was there to say? I know there are people who believe in things like reincarnation, but I’m Catholic born and raised and I can guarantee you, it’s nowhere in our beliefs. I decided to change the subject to something with less of a Twilight Zone feel to it. “I spoke to Bella while you checked in with the newspaper and asked her about the voodoo doll. She said that although Drusilla practices voodoo, she has nothing to do with dolls, so she has no idea why one would be found in her shop. She also didn’t know what was up with the blood and hadn’t heard from the police herself, but she did say the doll could be a warning of some sort and we should tread carefully as we searched for the stone.”

  “Did Bella say how Tansy’s doing?”

  I bowed my head. “Not well. We need to restore the magic to the island before it’s too late.”

  Cody and I crossed the street and entered the air-conditioned hotel lobby. He pushed the button for the elevator and we waited. He took my hand in his and gave it a squeeze. “Don’t worry. We’ll follow the map, find Jasmina, get the stone, and restore both the island’s magic and Tansy’s health.”

  I couldn’t quite quell the hollowness in my soul. “I hope so.”

  “You’ll feel better after a cool shower,” Cody reassured me.

  Alone in the elevator, I wrapped my arms around his neck, leaned forward, and captured his lips with mine. “A cool shower sounds great, but with the air-conditioning and all, I’m thinking we might need a way to warm back up.”

  He pulled me hard against his body. “I’m sure we can come up with a way to meet all your needs.”

  The Bayou

  The heavy cloak of night settled around us as the light from the moon vanished beneath the heavy veil of the dense trees that grew in the area. My mind shifted to the chorus of sounds so foreign to my ears, I couldn’t pick one out from another. A splash to my left reminded me that even under this cloak of darkness, the bayou teemed with life: beautiful, exotic, deadly.

  “Hold up,” Cody said as a large snake that had been hiding in the tall grass slithered slowly across our path.

  “Oh God,” I whispered as I grabbed Cody’s arm and hung on tight. “I’m pretty sure my worst nightmare involves that snake.”

  “He’s no more interested in picking a fight with us than we are in picking one with him. Just give him some space to move into the darkness. I
think the light from my flashlight might have disturbed his nap.”

  I wanted to look away until he was gone, but somehow my eyes locked on to his slow, deliberate movements. He didn’t seem to be paying us a bit of attention, but I couldn’t help but be reminded of a patient hunter waiting and watching for the perfect moment to strike.

  “He really is beautiful,” I whispered.

  “Beautiful but deadly. We need to watch where we step.”

  I looked around at the inky blackness. “It’s kind of hard to do that when it’s so dark. How much farther do we have to go until we’re supposed to meet up with Baptiste?”

  Cody took out the map and looked at the directions. “It’s hard to tell. I’ve been trying to compare this map we received from Eden with a topographical map of the bayou I downloaded from the internet and the two aren’t lining up.”

  “Well, that’s not good. Do you think Eden’s map is wrong?”

  Cody shook his head. “No. The map she gave us is just different from the other one. For example, see this area here, where the river makes an S through this grove of cypress?”

  I looked at the map Cody shone his flashlight on. “Yes, I see it.”

  “We passed it about five minutes ago.”