by Unknown
We rounded a large grove of cypress trees and a sprawling flotant. This place was a maze. After a couple more pulls, it came into view.
“There she is,” sighed Rhys.
The tiny wooden cottage was situated on a small patch of dry land or at least most of it was. There was a dock off the front and the porch, which spanned the front of the house. Actually, upon closer inspection, the whole house was on stilts. The roof was tin and rusty in spots with a pipe as the chimney that was spewing a small bit of smoke. Must be a wood burning stove, I thought. The windows were opaque with years of dust and swamp grime. It was very quaint and picturesque. Cypress trees and Spanish moss were everywhere. Rhys had pulled us close enough to dock now. He climbed out and started tying us onto the tie-on. Examining the house, I noticed that there were trinkets hanging all over the porch. It was too far to see what they were specifically but it appeared to be bones and sticks of some kind. Symbols similar to the ones described back in New Orleans with Carly’s murder were painted on to the slats of the house. The sinking feeling returned to my stomach. Was this lady like Brad?
“Rhys, baby, it’s about time you came back around home,” a feminine albeit elderly voice sporting a heavy creole accent crooned from within the home. Holding Moonbeam close to my chest, I made my way to exit the tiny boat and step onto a much safer and more solid dock.
“Yep, Mama, and I brought some company,” Rhys hollered back towards the house.
A stout shadow moved and filled the doorway. The tiny woman opened the door and stepped outside, squinting as she took me in. Nodding, she said, “Yeah, I’ve been expecting you for a while.”
I didn’t know this woman and I didn’t really know Rhys either, though right then, in that moment, I knew down to my core that I was exactly where I was supposed to be. I felt like I was home.
Brad walked into the ornate office of his brother’s home, worried about how he would take the update on Maya.
“It’s done,” he said, setting the paper bag he was carrying onto the desk in front of him.
His brother was laid back in his computer chair, seeming as he would if he were on a beach somewhere sipping from the bourbon that filled his glass. Brad knew differently. Drake never relaxed.
“Very good. And the girl?”
Brad shifted uncomfortably.
Things hadn’t gone as planned and Angela had gotten in the way of what they were trying to do. Drake wouldn’t see it that way, though. Even if Brad explained the change in plans and how everything could still work out, it would still be Brad’s major fuck up. He’d pay for it.
“Something happened. They weren’t alone. We didn’t get the girl.”
Drake sat up slowly and got to his feet. The calm façade on his face hadn’t changed but Brad knew; Drake was an unexpectedly explosive individual. One moment, he might seem fine, but the next, he could have a knife at your throat and you wouldn’t have the slightest clue what had changed. Brad took a step towards the office door, the tumbler of bourbon exploded against the wall an inch from Brad’s face. One of the pieces of shattered glass sliced open his cheek just below his eye.
“Where is she?” Drake screamed.
Brad flinched. “Gone. She left with the boy-” He was cut off before he could even mention that they had Angela to use as leverage.
“One job. You had one job and you couldn’t even manage that! What the hell am I supposed to do with you? You will find her and you will watch her every fucking move or I will kill you myself, Bradley.” Drake snatched up the bag from the desk top and peered into it.
“I will start the ritual as planned, but we cannot afford any more fuck ups!”
Coming around the desk, Drake took Brad’s face between his hands and placed a brief kiss on his forehead before whispering against his ear, “Now, get the fuck out of my sight.” He turned and sat back down behind his massive mahogany desk, glancing up when Brad didn’t move.
“There’s more.” Drake’s expression didn’t change so Brad continued so as to not piss off Drake even more by delaying. “We have her friend.”
“And what good will her friend do us? She’s not Maya Thibodeau.” Drake’s temper was flaring again and it made Brad uneasy. He remembered the beatings his brother would dole out as a child all too well. As a man, he could only imagine.
“The girl, Maya, doesn’t suspect a thing and, the man she’s with, I think he bought the whole charade. Her friend can be of some use to us. I’ve watched them together and the girl won’t leave her friend. She will come to us.”
Drake seemed satisfied and waved Brad off with a grunt. This time, he didn’t hesitate to leave.
Drake hoped things went well from there on out. Sir wouldn’t be receptive to failure or excuses. He knew that he had skated on thin ice with the Loas for most of his adult life, this could easily end up being the final nail in his coffin, literally. He was in too deep to back out.
If Drake had the girl’s friend, then it would just be a waiting game. Maya would come for her friend and things would piece together nicely from there. He couldn’t take the chance that the girl would interfere. He had little spies everywhere. He needed to know where the girl was and if she might pose a threat then he needed her eliminated.
Chapter FIVE
When in Dreamland
Mama Yansa stood on the porch examining me. She started down the steps towards me and I looked to Rhys for reassurance. Tipping his head towards the old woman with a small smile was all the comfort that I would find there, it was also my cue to advance and meet her head on. I had made it only a couple steps before my clumsiness caught up with me and I tripped over an uneven board or maybe it was my own feet. Who the hell really knows? The next thing I knew, I rolled over and lay on my back, to stare up at the darkened sky. Mama Yansa hobbled over and surveyed me curiously.
“Whatcha doin’ down there, child?” she crooned.
I scrambled to my feet, brushing off my pants on the way up.
“Rhys, boy, keep your eyes in your head,” Mama admonished him and turned on her heel to hobble back towards the house.
I looked over at Rhys who had a very distinct blush creeping up his neck and spreading across his cheeks. The sight surprised me. Who knew a man so sure of himself and so damn gorgeous would blush over being told to stop staring? I wasn’t a knockout by any stretch of the imagination, on the other hand I could see how he might have gotten a bit of a view. After all he is only a man.
I hurried after Mama Yansa, watchful of every step. The next time, I likely wouldn’t be so lucky and would end up in the swamp water. It had grown dark very fast. The house had appeared abandoned at first glance, however as I moved closer, it seemed to come to life. The windows that were blackened with wear and grime now were glowing softly. The screen door allowed for a tantalizing scent of cooking food to waft out from the home. I clambered up the step and crossed into the house behind Mama. The door didn’t shut behind me though and I could feel Rhys’s presence behind me, almost too close for comfort. My stomach tightened a little.
Looking back towards the woman, I finally took in the sight of her. She was a squat old woman. Deep wrinkles carved into her rich coffee colored skin. Her eyes were weathered by the years and had a quality to them which was hard to place. It was like they had seen everything the world had to offer. The hair that was creeping out from under her crimson head wrap was wiry and ashen grey.
“What be troublin’ you, child? Do ya know why you here?” The old woman asked warmly, genuine concern creased her eyebrows. I didn’t really know what to say or how to answer her question. So much had happened. My emotions started bubbling up to the surface and I couldn’t catch my breath. Don’t cry. Don’t cry!
“So much has happened and I don’t even know where to start,” I said, shakily.
Rhys took it upon himself to save me from having to relay everything that had happened. He stepped around me and plopped down on a stool close to where Mama Yansa herself was seated.
“Her friend was abducted yesterday morning par un zombie and she was attacked by un ombré maléfique. It’s started, Mama. We don’t have much time.” Rhys spoke in low ominous tones, slipping into French periodically.
“What’s that?” I interjected.
Rhys didn’t spare me a glance. “An evil spirit.”
“How many?” Mama Yansa asked him.
“Just one so far, but it’s drawn a lot of attention. The media was all over it.”
Nodding her understanding, she turned her attention back to me.
“Do ya know why he brought ya to me, Maya?” Mama asked.
Thinking about it, I knew it must have had something to do more with the shadow creature than Brad.
“The shadow thing that attacked me,” I whispered. “It stalked me and attacked when Brad took Angie.”
“But do ya know why it wanted ya in particular?”
I shook my head. Rhys eyed me sympathetically and added his bit.
“Maya, I need you to keep an open mind. The things we’re about to tell you will seem impossible, but believe me, it’s real. So you may want to sit down. This could take a while.”
My eyes wandered around the kitchen and noticed a tall wooden chair sitting against the far wall so I made my way around the pair of them and settled into the rocker watching them speculatively. They had their heads together speaking in hushed tones, apparently, not noticing me for the moment. I would wait. The kitchen was full and somewhat cluttered. There were dozens of different types of plants hanging from the beams overhead and along the walls, drying, I would imagine. Jars full of powders, stones, and preserved things adorned the shelves, taking up the entire outer wall next to me. There weren’t any electrical lights in the small dwelling, but there were candles lit and dripping wax everywhere. As cliché as it sounded, this place was like something similar to a witch’s house that you would expect in a movie. I spotted the large pot simmering away on the spit above a very low fire in the stone hearth. That must’ve been where the tantalizing smell had come from. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d eaten a real meal. Giving it some thought, I remembered. Rhys had brought coffee and pastries to my apartment for the three of us: him, me, and Angie. The ache in my chest bloomed anew, reminding me how much trouble she was in and how much she was depending on my success there.
A tickling sensation on my ear brought me out of the pit of despair I had dug within myself. Flipping my hand by my ear dispelled the sensation. Only a second later, it returned. Turning to see what it could be brought me face to face with a very large and rather hungry looking snake whose beady eyes were glued to me and whose tongue kept flicking out and tasting the air around my face. It was one of those big, squeezy kinds of snakes. The kind that can eat you whole.
“Fuck that!” I screamed as I jolted out of the chair and hightailed it for a spot as far away from the damn thing as I could get. Its tongue had been the tickling sensation on my ear.
Breathing heavily while I scanned the room for a weapon, I noticed I had captured Rhys and Mama Yansa’s attention with my hasty escape from danger.
“I see ya’ve met Ayida.” Mama chuckled.
The old woman hopped down from her perch and walked over to the snake. She picked it up and stroked its neck. Do snakes even have necks?
“Ayida, dis girl is Maya, the one I been tellin’ ya about,” Mama said to the serpent. “Maya, this is Ayida.” She leaned towards the snake as if listening to a secret. “I think so too,” she said turning her attentions back to me. “She says she sees great power in ya, child, and I think I agree wit’ her.”
I didn’t have the foggiest clue what she could’ve thought she saw in me. Maybe I had the makings of a leader, like when I was in college and usually led group projects because I had good communication and organizational skills? Regardless, this lady was a couple fries short of a happy meal. I mean come on, she was talking to the damn snake like the thing was talking back to her. There didn’t appear to be anyone else living in the home so she was probably really lonely and that much isolation could mess with the brain. I assumed that was exactly the case here.
Rhys closed the distance between us and placed a steadying hand on my shoulder and guided me to a seat away from Ayida and Mama Yansa. I must’ve seemed like I was about bolt because he took up a position between me and the door, blocking any chance of escape. He was probably right, I wanted out of there. This was just getting way too weird.
“What do ya know about da loas?” the old woman asked.
I sat there for several moments, scanning my brain. It sounded familiar, though the only association I was making had visions of Hawaii in my head and for the current situation, it just didn’t sound like something that would fit. I shrugged.
“Nothing, I guess. I’ve never heard of them.”
Rhys snorted at that. It was true for the most part. A deep part of me had perked up at the mention of loas and was stirring in the back of my mind. It wasn’t something that I wanted to examine very closely right then. I knew that I wouldn’t like what I found.
The old woman was whispering to the snake again while she kept gesturing towards me. Instantly, my mood soured. People talking about me secretively when I was standing there just made me mad. It was a pet peeve of mine and had been since junior high when Becky Miller had started a nasty rumor about me. I was still convinced that she only said that because she was jealous. Nobody liked Becky. The only thing that was a bigger bitch than Becky was karma. Since high school, Becky had gained at least a hundred pounds and I’d heard she had a hard time keeping a job or a significant other. It was sad, yeah, I couldn’t find it in me to feel bad about finding a small amount of satisfaction in the woman’s downfall. After all, she was the reason no one would date me until my sophomore year and everyone called me rug-muncher Maya. Very original, I know. And pretty damned offensive. My parents and Angie were my rock. Angie had threatened quite a few fellow students for calling me by my colorful moniker. She had been my savior more than once when I had been crushed by the cruel words of my peers. I needed Angie then and I needed her still. I was just going to have to find a way to get her back.
“Girl, ya got a great gift. I know, I can see it glowin’ from da inside out. But I guess we best be startin’ from da beginning,” Mama said, bringing me back to myself and away from the wretched thoughts of Becky Miller and my miserable times during my formative years.
“Where do ya come from?” Mama asked.
“I’m from New Orleans originally, I was raised in Shreveport.”
Mama Yansa began shaking her head. “No no no. Where do ya come from, child? Ya roots?” the old woman clarified.
I was thinking back to my childhood trying to remember whether or not my parents had ever mentioned family history. No distinct conversations came to mind. In fact, I had never met any of my grandparents. I remembered my father having had a blow out with them over marrying my mother and I think they lost touch after that.
My father had come from a fairly wealthy, upper class family and was studying to become a litigation lawyer so he could join my grandfather’s firm and eventually become a partner. He had met my mother while the pair of them were away at Louisiana State University. My mother was a gorgeous woman and truly a free spirit. She was an artist and loved everything about nature. It showed through in her paintings too. Her subjects were usually the darker side of the natural world like the wonder of the swamps butting up to the edge of a metropolis or the single tree that thrives in the middle of a dead forest. She loved the beauty and the contrasts that could be found there. I think that was a big part of what drew my father to her. They had met at an art gallery opening. My mother had some of her work in the show and my father was there as a requirement for his art class which he was taking to fulfill a fine arts credit. I can thank the liberal education system for my existence, because there was no other way that he would’ve been at an art show if not for being made to be there, at least, not until he met
my mother. After they had fallen in love, my daddy was at every single show that held a piece of my mother’s work in it. He loved everything she did, and they were the template for what a marriage should be. I hope one day to be so lucky. That kind of love was a once in a lifetime kind of love. They had a completely classic story, like a fairy tale. She wasn’t from a wealthy family and wasn’t working towards a career that would spell out my father’s parents version of success. Apparently, that meant that she just wasn’t good enough for their son and it was exactly that kind of callous attitude towards my parent’s relationship that had made me never care much about having any kind of relationship with them and it wasn’t like they had ever sought me out for any kind of a relationship either. I didn’t need that kind of negativity in my life and I didn’t want to see them look down on me or my parents for following their hearts. In this situation though, that relationship would be useful. I didn’t have anyone I could go to on my mother’s side of the family. Her father had taken off when she was a baby and I remember her saying that her mother had died when she was in high school. As I sat there pondering the question presented to me, I realized I had no idea where I came from or who I was within the world’s grand scheme of things.
“I don’t know,” I said quietly. What else was there to say?
“Mama, it’s getting late. Maybe we could talk about this in the morning once everybody had had une bonne nuit sommeil, a good night’s sleep?” Rhys interjected. The phrase was one my spotty French knowledge could comprehend.
“All right, child. Go ahead and show da girl where she be stayin’. I’ll make her some hot tea. That’ll help calm her nerves.” Mama winked at me before adding. “It’s just good for da soul.”
Rhys grabbed my bags while I gathered up Moonbeam and he started off towards a back room. Just as I was about to follow after him, Mama Yansa grabbed my arm and gave me a hard stare, intent on what she was doing, “She da one all right.” And released me.