“What?” Jake asked.
“This is her.” Luc pointed.
Jake jumped out of his chair and got behind him.
The girl with the golden curls stared back with haunted eyes.
“She was a pretty little thing,” Jake observed.
Luc told him about the dream, including his muddied feet and the massive amount of mosquito bites he now had. “What do you think it means?”
“Doesn’t sound like a dream; it sounds like you were there.”
“Not possible. I’m a clairvoyant. I only see spirits. I can’t hear them. But in this dream, she and I conversed. Plus, how did I get to the bayou and back in the middle of the night? There isn’t a single bayou within walking distance. Oh, and did I mention I was wearing only my boxers? If nothing else, I’d think I would be picked up for indecent exposure.”
Jake laughed. “She transported you there. What did she want?”
“She pointed to the spirits of these children haunting the bayou and told me I had to help them.”
“Are they from the orphanage?”
Luc shook his head. “No, these kids wore modern clothes. Other than that, they stood with their backs to me, so I don’t think I could identify them if I tried.”
“I wonder who they are,” Jake said.
TWO
Jake Spaulding also had a gift. He was clairaudient—he heard voices but couldn’t see the spirits they came from. Sometimes he was able read minds. Luc thought that was pretty cool and wished he could do it, but Jake told him it wasn’t necessarily a good thing.
Hearing another person’s thoughts about you could actually hurt your feelings. Other times you felt like a voyeur because you learned personal things about someone that you wish you’d never known.
Luc’s benefactor, Francis ‘Frank’ Thibodeaux, was born a psychic medium. He had full-blown conversations with the dead. He was one of the lucky few because his gift was handed down through generations, so he was taught to feel blessed with his talent.
But Frank learned that most folks were not that fortunate. Many were committed or voluntarily entered mental institutions. Worse, there were people who took their own lives. Frank began The Thibodeaux Foundation to help educate them about their abilities. How to use them and how to cope.
Through the years, he’d helped thousands around the globe and then enlisted them to help others in their region. On occasion when his schedule permitted, he would visit them himself.
The Thibodeaux family made their fortune first in bootlegging and next as import/exporters. Not only did Frank run the US office, but he was also a prolific philanthropist. He claimed he’s too busy to have a family of his own and that’s why he’d never married, but Luc believed there was another reason. One he had yet to share.
Whether Frank was traveling or home, he left the house and the running of it to his house-keeper. Frank brought Clara Dambreville to New Orleans from Haiti twenty years ago when he found her in dire straights. He refused to say more, claiming that if someone wanted to know anything about Clara, they could ask her themselves. Clara did not live on the property. She was a very private person.
She had many rules and no one was safe from her wrath, including Frank. One rule was that she insisted on only real food in the house, no processed, which was filled with chemicals. She always fixed their dinner. She claimed it was the only way she could make sure they got at least one hearty meal a day.
Another important thing to know was that you didn’t dare let Clara know you ate junk food. So the guys made sure they ate their McDonald’s burgers away from the house and disposed of the evidence before they got home. They still caught hell every now and then.
Clara claimed she could smell the offending food on their breath. Luc had made it a habit to chew gum long before he opened that front door. He swore she still gave him the stink-eye sometimes. Clara frightened Luc when they’d first met. She was very strict and looked mean. He soon learned it was just her persona. She didn’t smile because it showed weakness and affection made her uncomfortable.
This was why Luc made it his life’s mission to see if he could make her smile whenever he thought he could get away with it. Although Clara didn’t say the words, Luc knew she loved him.
Frank explained to Luc at the very beginning that Clara was not his personal maid. Luc was expected to clean up after himself, keep his room tidy and do his own laundry. In short, he was responsible for himself.
*
The back screen door slammed and Clara walked into the kitchen carrying groceries. Jake and Luc jumped up and relieved her of the heavy bags. As Luc set a bag on the counter, he turned to her. “Do you have more in the car, chère?”
“Don’t you chère me, Jon-Luc Boudreaux. Aren’t you supposed to be on your way to school to take that test?”
Luc glanced at his watch. “No!” He ran toward the stairs, grabbed the finial and jumped over the banister, faltered, then righted his footing before he raced up the remaining stairs. Clara’s robust laughter followed him. He snatched his backpack and keys from his room before he headed down the front staircase. He noticed Jake standing in the open doorway. “I’ll drive you.”
“Won’t that make you late?” Luc said out of breath.
Jake shrugged. “Naw, I’ll be fine.”
“Thanks!” Luc ran past. By the time they reached the school he was three minutes late. He scrambled out of the car before it came to a complete stop and sprinted toward the building. Taking the cement steps two at a time, he prayed Mr. Grainier would still allow him to take the test. The door flew open and hit the wall behind it. Luc cringed as the entire class stared at him. Chuckles rumbled throughout the room.
“Boudreaux, it’s nice of you to grace us with your presence.”
“I’m sorry I’m late, sir.” Luc glanced around and noticed everyone already had a test in front of them. He stood stock still as he waited for the teacher to dismiss him.
“Are you going to take your seat, or do you need a written invitation?” That received a round of guffaws.
Luc noticed he was holding a test out for him. “Yes, sir. I mean no, sir.”
Mr. Grainier smiled.
He snatched the test from his grip. “Thank you, sir.” He ran to his desk and got to work. He found he knew more of the answers than he thought. He was concentrating really hard reading one of the questions when he noticed the loud clicking noise of cicadas. Soon crickets tried to compete for airtime.
He ignored the familiar song and filled in the circle for C with his number two pencil. A few more questions later and he heard a chorus of frogs. He refused to be distracted. It wasn’t until a giant splash occurred and his legs got wet that his head jerked up in time to see the tail of a gator disappear under the water. So close he could touch it.
That’s when he realized he was sweating so profusely that his shirt was stuck to his skin. “No, no, no. No!” The classroom had disappeared and he found himself sitting at his desk among giant lily pads, alone, in the middle of a bayou.
In the dark of night.
“Holy hell. This can’t be happening. Not now!”
Spanish moss hung low tickling his ear. A couple of owls hooted back and forth to one another, the sound they made was like that of a sick cow. One took flight. He tilted his head back and followed its journey across the moon as its giant wingspan blocked out the light momentarily. The sight in itself was simply awesome. He turned in his seat and searched the area, he didn’t dare stand for fear he’d drop into the water.
“Charlotte!” he yelled.
“Yes, Jon-Luc?” came her tiny soprano voice.
“Dammit, Charlotte, get me back to school.”
She appeared before him. “You don’t understand how serious this is. You need to help the children.” She pointed to his left and there they stood in the middle of a clump of bald cypress trees, their backs to him as if watching for some unseen phantom.
He shook his head. “I can’t, I have to
take this test.”
“Nothing is more important than helping them,” she countered.
He gritted his teeth. “Fine, just let me finish this test and then I’m all yours. I promise.” In the next instant, he was back in the classroom. Mr. Grainier stood above him, and the rest of the students had gone. “Are you about finished, Boudreaux?”
Luc blinked up at his teacher, then down at his test. “Almost.”
“Then hurry it along, I have an appointment.” The man strode back to his desk and began packing his things into a briefcase. Luc was relived to see he only had a few more questions.
After leaving school, Luc walked home in the sweltering heat. Halfway there, his gait had slowed exponentially as the humidity weighted him down. He stopped at the Gas & Sip and bought a Coke. He enjoyed the shade of a giant oak while he drank.
Consistently wiping the sweat from his brow, he watched the heat radiate from the asphalt street in waves. It made him think of the pool at his parents’ house, the one he had enjoyed as a boy. Back when he was ignorant and had not yet known betrayal. A little blond boy walked up and stopped in from of Luc.
“Hey, little guy, are you lost? Where are your parents?” Luc glanced around, but no one else was about. The child’s mouth opened wide, dirt began spilling out like molten lava flowing to the ground. It continued toward Luc’s feet.
“Shit!” He lurched out of the way. The boy’s eyes rolled back in his head until all that was seen was white. Suddenly, they turned black. Luc dropped his Coke and ran. After a couple of blocks, he risked a glance over his shoulder. No one was chasing him; he was alone. When he finally made it through the front door, he closed it, then collapsed against it.
“Jon-Luc, that you?” Clara called.
“Yes, ma’am,” he yelled back.
“Come to the kitchen.”
He tried to get his breathing under control. As he passed by the front stairway, he tossed his backpack onto the bottom step and continued on. When he walked into the kitchen, he found a sandwich and a glass of milk on the table. “Now you eat and tell me about your day.”
He pulled out a chair. “After you wash your hands.” At that he ventured toward the sink.
When he returned, he noticed she’d added a bowl of watermelon. His favorite. “Thank you, Clara.”
She sat next to him with her sweet tea. “Tell me how it went.”
He took a big bite of his sandwich and washed it down with some milk. “I took the test and came home.” He feigned interest in his chicken salad sandwich instead of looking her in the eye.
“Do not give me that. How you do?”
“I don’t know. I answered all the questions.”
“Good. Good.” She wiped her hands on her apron. “Then why you look sick? I swear you the palest white boy I ever did see.”
He shrugged. “I’m okay.”
She reached over, grabbed his chin and raised his head. “Do not lie to me, boy. What is eatin’ you?”
He should have known he couldn’t keep a secret from Clara; she wouldn’t leave him alone until he told. “Fine.” He put his sandwich down. “On my way home I ran into this little boy. When I talked to him, he opened his mouth, but instead of words, all this dirt poured out. I got scared and ran away. End of story.”
Clara stood abruptly. “No good.” She clutched the gris gris pouch hanging around her neck with her left hand and made the sign of the cross with her right. “Bad juju.” She shook her head and rushed over to her large purse. Her hand disappeared into the cavernous bag. At last, she pulled something out and came toward him. She looped an old leather strip around his neck. He couldn’t see what dangled from it.
As soon as she stepped back, he took it in his hand and checked it out. “A chicken foot?”
“Rooster. It protect you, bring you good juju. Don’t take off even for cleaning.”
“What does it mean?”
Clara shook her head, grabbed her bag and left through the back door.
THREE
Jake came home from work around four-thirty that afternoon. Luc heard his heavy footfalls on the stairs. When he passed Luc’s room, he stopped. “How’d the test go?”
“Fine, I think. How was work?”
“The usual. Where’s Clara? I don’t smell dinner cooking.”
“I don’t know. I told her about a vision I had and she got upset, made me wear a rooster foot, then left without another word.” Luc pulled the necklace out from under his shirt.
Jake walked over to get a better look. “What was the vision?”
Luc told him about the little boy.
“Spooky. What does it mean?”
“Hell if I know. All she said was bad juju and told me not to take the necklace off. Then she grabbed that ridiculously large bag and left. She’s been gone for hours.”
Jake frowned. “Must be some Voodoo thing by the way she acted.”
“Yeah, that’s my guess too. But I haven’t been able to focus on anything since. I’ve tried reading. Even tried watching TV, but I can’t seem to follow a damn thing. Oh, and I got a visit from Charlotte again. Right in the middle of my damn test! She almost made me fail. By the time she left me alone, the entire class had left. I’m really lucky the teacher let me finish, especially since I was late to begin with.”
“Sounds like you’ve had a hell of a day. What do you say we go grab a pizza?”
“Oh, hell yeah!”
“Let me just take another shower. I’ve been sweating something awful and I smell bad enough to gag a maggot.”
After Jake went on down the hall, Luc changed his clothes. He thought he heard something downstairs and went to investigate. He found Clara bending down in the open doorway pouring red dust along the ground. “What are you doing?” She jumped about a mile and spun around holding her chest.
“Do not sneak up on me like that, boy.”
“Sorry. I was just wondering what you were up to?”
“Keeping evil out. You boys are on your own for supper. I have many things to do. Now go.” She placed both hands on Luc’s chest and pushed.
“Okay, geesh.” Luc turned around and saw Jake on his way down the stairs.
“What is she doing?” Jake pointed at Clara’s back.
“Says she’s keeping evil out.”
“How?”
Luc shrugged. “Hell if I know.”
Jake reached Clara just as she was turning around. “What do you have there?”
“Brick dust. It will protect this house. You boys get out now. I have much to do.”
Jake jingled his keys. “Okay. How long do you want us gone?”
“Three hours should do.”
Jake’s brows knit as he stared at Luc. “Guess we’re out of here.”
After ordering their pizza in a dive off Magazine Street, they watched the Baseball game on the big screen TV while they waited. The game was interrupted by a news bulletin with a female anchor.
“Still no word on Mathew Boudin, age four, the little boy who was taken from his Metairie home late last night. His parents claim they didn’t hear a thing. Police are stumped by this rash of kidnappings. So far, eight children have been abducted from their own beds. Their ages range from four to seven, male and female, and they come from different backgrounds, and cultures. The NOPD are having a hard time connecting them. No suspects have been named—”
Luc hit Jake’s arm and pointed at the screen. “That’s him. That’s the boy from my vision today!”
Jake looked at him. “Oh, no.”
“His poor parents.” Luc continued to stare at the TV.
“What are you going to do?”
He glanced at Jake. “What do you mean? It’s not like I can go to the police and tell them I saw that kid in a vision. They’d lock me up for sure, either for being crazy or for kidnapping him myself.”
The waiter placed the pizza on the table with a couple of plates. After he left, they each grabbed a slice.
“But you’re b
eing shown this for a reason. There must be something you can do.” Jake shoved half of his pizza into his mouth.
Luc swallowed. “If you have any ideas, I’m open. I can’t think of anything.”
Jake was just about to take another bite. “Wait.” He lowered his slice. “Are these the children Charlotte was talking about?”
Luc sipped his Coke through the straw. “I don’t see how, I’m not a cop. Why would she bring this problem to me?”
“The obvious reason would be because she can. Come on, Luc, we are simply vessels to pass on messages from those who can’t. She may have tried others, but failed, and now she’s come to you.”
Luc grabbed another slice. “Again, I ask you why?”
“So far we have two clues. The bayou and the boy’s mouth being filled with dirt.”
“And the fact there’s a child taken every month.”
Jake picked up his sweet tea. “See. That’s three clues. I bet if we think about it, we can find more.”
They contemplated the problem while they devoured the rest of the pizza. When he was finished, Luc cleaned himself up with his napkin. “There might be another clue, Clara’s reaction to my vision. This could have something to do with Voodoo.”
“We should question her.” Jake stood and threw a tip on the table.
Luc followed him. “Good luck with that.”
When they returned to the house, they couldn’t find Clara anywhere. They searched every room. When they got to the attic, they found an altar filled with candles, a statue of the Virgin Mary, and fresh flowers. A basket of fruit sat directly in front of this covered with colorful strings of beads and really fancy symbols on the floor in yellow powder. The walls and floor of the entire attic were painted red.
“Has this always been here?” Luc asked.
“I have no idea; I’ve never been up here before. I knew Clara hailed from Haiti and practiced Voodoo. I just didn’t know she had an altar in this house. I wonder if Frank knows?”
“I’m sure he does. There isn’t much that goes on in this house that gets by him. Besides, it looks like it’s for a blessing, with the Virgin Mary on there and all.”
Spirits of the Bayou Page 2