A Voodoo Shop, a Zombie, and a Party, page 7
“Demons can make people think and do just about anything. They use the weak and damaged,” Greg explained.
“I agree this zombie guy is probably weak and damaged. He was brainwashed and programmed, but whoever did that, I don’t think they are weak. They put some curse or something on me. Probably caused the spider bite. I’m going to the Voodoo shop this morning to see if they can help untangle this.” I knew Greg might fight the idea of running to another religion.
“If they can help, great. Their practices were probably used to create it. That’s no doubt the best way to destroy what they did.” Greg poured me more coffee.
“I didn’t expect you to say that. I know you respect other faiths, but even with a pretty strong demon, you managed to overpower it.”
“We did,” Greg corrected. “But a demon is a demon. We don’t know about the other rituals. Could we overpower the result? Sure. But will that lift the underlying curse? I don’t know. It could cause other unforeseen side effects. It’d take a lot of trial and error and focus. You won’t do that. You’re too busy with those girls.”
“You’re right. I don’t have time to play games. Someone did something to me. It can be undone, so let’s get it undone.” I sighed when the doc finally put a fresh bandage on my neck.
“Who would want to do something bad to you?” he asked.
“You’d be surprised. My powers attract crazies when I’m just trying to help people,” I said.
The doorbell rang, and Ivy opened it. Gunnar strolled in with confidence in his usual jeans, t-shirt and sunglasses.
“Ready for the Voodoo shop?” he asked.
“Almost. Sit down and have some breakfast,” I said.
“Nah, I had a protein shake after the gym. But thanks, anyway. Smells great.” He leaned on the fridge, out of the way of the kitchen traffic.
“Is the zombie man outside?” Ivy asked.
Gunnar nodded. “Yep, looks like he slept there. We could have him arrested, I suppose. Rich neighborhood and all. Sleeping in his car is pretty much loitering.”
“No, he’d get a ticket or something stupid. We want him gone,” Ivy said.
“Not dead,” I added.
“No, but deprogrammed and not trying to hurt you. Gone, living his life like he should be,” Ivy said.
“Amen,” Greg said.
“You going back to the bug house?” I asked him.
Greg nodded. “One more time. The teen is making it happen, so I need to talk with him. He could use a therapist, but the family is in need.”
“I could make a referral,” I said.
“I’ll let you know how it goes.” Greg put the dishes in the dishwasher.
“Well, I’m done. See you again tomorrow.” The doc closed up his bag. “Water, antibiotics, a good night’s sleep, and don’t scratch or bump the affected area.”
“Got it.” I nodded.
Gunnar grabbed water from the fridge and my pills. “On it.”
I finished off my bacon then wiped my hands. “Better go.”
“Voodoo starts early?” Greg asked with a smirk.
“I want to run the zombie around to get him confused first. I don’t want him charging us in the Voodoo shop. The guy is determined, but he’s not that quick.” I grabbed my purse and made sure I had everything. Then, I stood and joined Gunnar at the door. “Stay out of trouble, you guys.”
Ivy fed bacon to little Pearl. “You’re the one with the weirdo stalker. I’ve got the new mirror being delivered today. It has to be perfect. The glass men took days to get the front window repaired.”
“I thought it’d take longer than that,” I admitted.
“I have a way with men.” Ivy smirked.
“And a very big umbrella policy with a quality insurer on the club. We better get our money’s worth. Later,” I said.
Greg waved, and Ivy waggled Pearl’s tiny Chihuahua paw.
I shut the front door behind us and Gunnar laughed.
“The dog thing is a little weird, right?” I asked.
“She needs a man,” Gunnar agreed.
I spotted my stalker. He tried not to react but sat up a bit straighter in his vehicle.
Chapter Eight
Gunnar was certainly a local boy of the bayou. He’d taken the zombie on a car chase that would impress the cops. Of course, he had been a cop so he’d know these streets even better than most natives. I kept forgetting that. We’d practically shaken the zombie when Gunnar parked in front of the Voodoo shop.
“You’re not in a hurry,” Gunnar said when I didn’t exit the car as quickly as I normally would.
“I just don’t like the idea of giving another religion any power over me,” I said.
“Power? Everyone has some power over everyone else. And it can be used for good or for bad. Myrna said this lady was good. Might as well go in and see what Priestess Tamara has to say.” He opened his door.
Lazy or reluctant, I let him round the car and open my door.
I took a bottle of water with me. Once my feet hit the ground, I was determined. I entered the shop, and a young man gave me the eye.
Not the good eye. Not quite the evil eye, but he was skeptical.
“I don’t think you’re in the right place. This is not a tourist shop,” he said.
“I’m not a tourist. I’m Deanna Oscar. Myrna gave me this card and said she’d call ahead.” I slid the card on the counter.
Gunnar strolled around, looking.
The young man glanced at the card and nodded. “I’ll be right back. Don’t touch anything.”
“That is so cool!” Gunnar pointed to a skull with a cigar in its mouth and wearing a top hat.
“Don’t touch it. Looks like an altar,” I said.
“That is loa Baron Samedi. God of Death. But you’re not here about death,” said a woman with a deep voice.
I turned to find her in jeans and a sweater, her hair tucked in a turban with some braids peeking out. Very modern and stylish. “I’m Deanna Oscar. I hope it’s a good time.”
She shook my hand. “No time is a good time to have a zombie after you or such a curse on your life. Myrna said she felt a curse. I feel this, too. Sit.”
She waved me around to behind the counter. I sat in the chair. She lit a few candles and murmured words I couldn’t make out. Tamara put her hand over my head and then down my sides as if feeling out my energy.
“You’re a woman of great power. You use it to help others, and some would take advantage of that.” She shook her head. “The curse was done by someone you know. But not alone. They had help.”
“The zombie?” Gunnar asked.
“Shh,” she replied to him.
“Can you undo the curse?” I asked.
She shook her head. “Only with the items used to perform the curse could I release it. The one who cast it did not use Voodoo. Not pure Voodoo.”
“I thought that’s how you made a zombie. Haitian Voodoo?” I asked.
“The zombie, yes. The curse is deeper. Darker. I will reflect on it and see if I can find the path to the heart of the evil caster. But they may be after your power, your money, or your life. Or all three. Voodoo can be used for good or evil, but this residue of the curse is pure evil for the power of it.” She shuddered.
“So, we’re just going to wait until you figure it out?” Gunnar asked.
Tamara shook her head. “Certainly not. I can counter some of the magic and give you protection.”
“I’m not sure that’s a good idea,” I said.
“Because?” Tamara prompted.
“I don’t practice Voodoo. Will any of that work on me?” I asked.
“It doesn’t need to work on you. It only needs to work on your zombie. Do you have a picture of him?” she asked.
Gunnar showed her the picture of the zombie from his cell phone.
She stared at it intently for a few minutes.
“Thank you. Give me a few minutes,” she said.
Tamara went into the back again, and I looked around the shop. Gunnar gave me a shrug, as if to say he was along for the ride, but we weren’t sure where we were going.
There were the usual incense and candles, which felt soothing, but I wasn’t sure how this woman would help if the guy who cursed me wasn’t even using pure Voodoo. I stared at the Catholic-related statues of Mary and Jesus. No doubt this place had some Santeria practitioners, as well. The saint statues were lined up like little soldiers.
Tamara returned with a small doll. It wasn’t like the ones tourists bought with pins in it and decorated with symbols. It was more plain and simple.
“Voodoo doll?” Gunnar asked.
“Yes, it will protect you from the zombie,” she said.
“How?” I asked.
“Maybe you provide the pins?” Gunnar suggested.
Tamara gave him a scolding look. “You can use pins. But odds are you don’t want to kill the man.”
“No, just unzombie him, if that’s even a word,” I said.
“Freeing a zombie is hard. He must exert his own free will or the master must release him. Death can break the bond. Also, a large trauma may free his mind. People who use pins go for the eyes or the heart. If you need to kill him, if it gets that dangerous, a pin to the heart will do it. Or a total twist of his neck. Of course, this would all be in self-defense. But if you’re being pursued, a twist of the leg can be very effective. Breaking both his legs should ensure you’re safe for a while,” she said.
Gunnar held up a finger. “Can’t the master guy just send another zombie?”
Tamara sighed. “He can if he has them ready made, but I doubt he has an army. Zombies are hard to make. They take a lot of time, effort, and energy. The master’s will to control must be stronger than the zombie’s free will. If he has another, get a picture, and we’ll create another doll. But odds are, this is his only one. He may be trying to create others, but they often fail.”
“So, he’s not a dead guy?” I asked.
“Oh, no. The zombie is alive. His family may believe he died. Drug addicts are a popular prey for those looking to create zombies. Ply them with just enough drugs to keep them from feeling sick, and make them do your bidding to get any little bump of the drug. Take away everything they have, and you own them. The drug does really, but it takes away some of the work. But I wouldn’t consider that a pure zombie.”
“Sounds like a pimp,” Gunnar said.
“That, too. Though most hookers I’ve met had a drug problem before. We do an outreach at some of the shelters to help people fight their demons. A person who has given up control of their life to a drug won’t object nearly as much to giving up their power to another person as long as they get that drug. But it’s all speculation. Your zombie doesn’t seem strung out. Then again, it’s only one picture,” she said.
“Thank you.” I carefully took the doll.
“It’s okay; you can keep it in your purse. It only harms the person if that is your intention. If it gets accidentally poked by a pen, nothing happens to the target,” she said.
“It works for me even if I don’t believe in Voodoo?” I asked.
“It doesn’t matter if you believe—the zombie is the one subject to the doll. Subject to the powers of Voodoo. He’s already given himself up to that power. You just have to believe that my powers work on Voodoo followers,” she said.
“Thanks again. What do I owe you?” I asked.
“Nothing. You do good for the community.” She waved me off.
“But I have to pay for the doll,” I said.
“Find those girls. That’s all the payment I need,” she said.
“You know about that? I don’t know if I can. The curse is blurring my powers. Blocking my mind.” I shrugged.
“You can do it. You’ll find ways to work around and overcome it all,” she said.
“Thanks.” I headed for the door with more questions than when I’d entered.
Lunch boosted my energy but not my morale. It was harder to exit the car at the trailer park than it had been at the Voodoo shop. This time, I knew the moms were there waiting for me. Hoping I’d get a hit off their teens’ rooms. Few people really understood how psychic impressions happened. They varied by case and situation.
“You look better,” Matt said.
“Thanks. I don’t have a solid read on them. These mothers are going to be disappointed,” I said.
“You’re not at your best now. Under the weather with a spider bite. I get it. Do your best. The worst scenario is when parents feel like we’re doing nothing,” Matt said.
“So, it’s just for show?” I asked.
“All we got from the last scene was the girls’ DNA. Proof they were there. Nothing on anyone else. This guy is good. Hope is fading,” Matt said.
“Okay, I’ll try.” I followed him into a trailer.
“Kimmie loved school. She didn’t have a lot of other talents, but she studied and swore she’d get a scholarship. Full ride. She’ll be so mad about missing this much school,” Mrs. Richards said through the sniffles. She wore purple scrubs with hearts and supportive shoes like she worked in a hospital. The color looked good against her dark skin. Her large eyes swam with tears, and she had a scarf over her head as though she couldn’t handle doing her hair. I couldn’t blame her. We were standing in her missing teenager’s bedroom.
“I understand. Can I get a moment alone?” I asked.
She nodded, and Matt closed the door as he ushered the mom out.
The tiny room was a cheerful mix of blue and purple, both bright. When did neon come back in fashion? Squeezing between the twin bed and the desk, I could feel her struggle to work hard and not be discouraged. I could feel her drive.
I tried to reach out. The girl was alive and fighting.
I picked up a blue ribbon from her nightstand and walked out.
“Anything?” Mrs. Whatever asked.
“She’s alive still. She’s strong. Can I hold onto this?” I asked.
She nodded.
Matt cleared his throat. “Let’s visit all the girls’ homes and see where we are.”
I followed him, glad of the fresh air, leaving one home. But the next was just as depressing. Small and sparsely furnished with secondhand stuff. I was going to give my dad less crap the next time we talked. I wasn’t supported much as a kid with special powers, but I had a nice home and whatever I needed. I couldn't keep up with a trashy celebrity family then, but I did keep up with my middle-class classmates.
“Her mom isn’t up to talking, but she said go ahead and take a look around.” Matt led me from the front step to Julie’s bedroom and closed the door behind me.
I walked the room. She was a cheerleader and a girly girl. There were posters on her walls and hot pink duct tape on her sneakers.
I found a pink ponytail holder and pocketed it. The mother wouldn’t mind and having a better connection than a picture might just help. I mentally tried to reach the girl, but she was in a state of fear and shock. No pain, but she felt paralyzed.
Exiting that room, I heard the mom softly weeping. It fueled my determination, but raw fury couldn’t force anything.
One more trailer to go. Gunnar handed me a water, and I paused to drink.
“Next one is a double wide. That’s better,” he said.
“Okay.” I gave him back the bottle and followed Matt.
“This mother is working right now, but she left me the key. She really wants your help and her daughter back. Gotta respect her for going to work,” he said.
“Sitting around isn’t helping anyone.” I marched up the stairs.
This one was more open. More normal and less of that in-line feeling of a trailer. Gunnar knew his mobile homes. I found the girl’s bedroom. She had more stuff; it wasn’t expensive or fancy, but she had more. More shoes on the floor and clothes in her closet. I found a hair clip and pocketed it. She had a jewelry box full of earrings and bracelets.
With all three items in my pocket, I tried to feel the direction they were in. But my mind flashed on numbers, instead.
I started to repeat a string of nonsense numbers.
I opened the bedroom door, and Matt stared at me as I said the numbers over and over.
He finally grabbed his pad and scribbled them down.
These were the moments when I knew I could be committed. I was somewhere in between reality and touching some higher knowledge. Matt escorted me down the hall and toward the front door as I inhaled deeply, breathing in despair and grief along with this morning’s burnt toast.
I felt crowded and wanted fresh air. Sure, I could fit the entire trailer in my dining room, but I hadn’t been raised that way. I wasn’t spoiled, but I was feeling a bit claustrophobic. Finally, I made it down the steps. Matt fumbled with the front lock as I repeated the sequence and enjoyed the fresh air and sunshine. The overall trailer park was still depressing, but I wasn’t feeling trapped any longer.
“She got the Tourette’s or OCD?” Gunnar asked.
“No, I don’t know, but those numbers mean something,” I said.
“Yeah, that’s longitude and latitude. It means a dot on the map.” Gunnar shrugged.
Matt grabbed a well-worn map of the New Orleans area from his car.
Spreading it on the hood of my SUV, he started to plot the point.
“You’re sure they’re there?” he asked.
“They are or were. I’m not trusting my accuracy right now. Don’t get the mothers’ hopes up,” I said.
Matt nodded. “We’ll drive out and look around. No big fuss. You got a gun, junior?”
Gunnar frowned. “Not on me. I only usually take them when I do private stripping sessions.”
“I’ll loan you one, just in case. Good to have backup.” Matt nodded.
“You can call a squad for backup. I just don’t want to bring in the SWAT team when we’re not sure if they’re still there,” I said.
Matt pointed to the map. “It’s another houseboat. Down there, squads get noticed. Less is more.”
We headed off to the bayou.
On the drive, I took my pills and drank water. I tried not to second guess myself, but something told me this was a flashback, not a forward movement.
