by S. E. Akers
“Okay,” I caved as I gave my angelite watch one more check, still wary.
“And see if they have a pair of balls lying around in there. I think you forgot to pack yours.”
“Ha, ha,” I chuckled dryly as I whisked open the black-lacquered door and stepped into the store. I heard the sound of an old brass bell ringing, but there was no “visible” chime over my head. None whatsoever. Weird, I thought as I refocused my attention to the ambience of the store.
My eyes exploded as they panned around the room. “Eclectic” didn’t do it justice. Neither did “eerie”. The walls were saturated in a dusty charcoal color, that is, wherever the plaster hadn’t peeled off. A hodge-podge of wooden cases and cubbies all stuffed with mystical paraphernalia littered the store. Once my retinas had adjusted to the dimness of the lights, an array of lit, drippy candlesticks helped guide my eyes as I continued to survey the room. Colorful hurricane lanterns hung from the ceiling, which lent the room a mystical glow. Next to beep on my radar was “what” they illuminated. The overall room had a tribal essence, extremely rich in earthy African and Island fare. Countless masks of all shapes and sizes were scattered throughout the store. Their faces were colorful, but gruesome. Something Jason might wear if the psycho-killer ever decided to go “native”. The cozy and cluttered voodoo shop had been divided into sections. A series of long bookcases stretched the entire left wall of the store. Hundreds of battered old leather books, journals, and rolled up scrolls inundated the shelves. A vintage wooden ladder was attached to the sprawling wooden cases by a lengthy brass track, and a tufted red velvet chaise lounge sat nearby.
“That must be the Barnes & Noble section…but no Starbucks,” I noted to Katie, trying to inject some soothing humor while giving her a courteous play-by-play. Nestled in a corner to the rear of the store, two heavily carved, throne-like chairs were seated around a tapestry-covered round table.
My description piqued Katie’s curiosity. “Do they have a crystal ball?” she asked eagerly.
“Afraid not,” I replied as I stroked the tablecloth. I noticed several timeworn rectangular discolorations on the fabric’s surface. “I think it’s for Tarot.”
Towards the center of the eerie emporium were various bowls and instruments that despite their festive designs and colors, looked more utilitarian. I picked up a horrifically long machete with a zebra wood handle. And possibly torturous, I thought with a confident nod.
“Where are you now?” Katie asked.
“Kitchenware,” I teased as I ran my finger along the curve of its blade. “I think.”
Sensing my uneasiness, Katie probed, “Is it really that creepy?”
“Let’s just say, it ain’t Pottery Barn,” I snarled while my hand trailed around the rim of a large cauldron in the middle of the store. Whatever was brewing in the vessel smelled like a blend of exotic spices, earthy and overwhelmingly pungent. Intrigued by its odd scent, I watched as the misty vapor crept over its edge and trailed gracefully down to the floor.
“Go find the ‘toys section’ so we can get out of here,” Katie urged.
I continued to visually peruse the rest of the dusty shelves, without any luck. All I was trying to do was locate a simple, cutesy-looking voodoo doll, but there was so much crazy stuff sitting around, I couldn’t focus on just one thing. I spied a section that held hundreds of bottles, easily, all filled with various oils, herbs, and peculiar whatnots. I didn’t have a clue what most of them were, but the gross ones like “tarantula hearts” and “bat ears” stuck out. Just when I thought I would have to abandon my search, a case of the willies hurled me around in the right direction. There sat a huge crate of the black magic figurines on a back counter near a bead-covered door. After rummaging through the entire box, I settled on the least gruesome of the bunch, a burlap crafted humanoid-shaped doll that had been stitched together with a coarse black yarn, light blue feathers for hair, and a red circle painted in the center of its chest — but it was missing its quintessential “pin”.
Probably costs extra… Like an upgrade. I wouldn’t necessarily call the doll “cute”, but it wasn’t all out repulsive like the others and certainly didn’t scream out, “I damn you to Hell”.
“Now go find Dr. Jekyll or a Mrs. Hyde and let’s go,” Katie demanded.
I turned to hunt down a clerk but was startled when I almost ran smack-dab into someone who was practically standing on top of me. With one hand muzzling my scream and the other over my chest, I composed myself quickly and then raised my head. A bizarre-looking man came into my view.
Albino, flashed in my head as I stared at the whitewashed man. His hair was whiter than a West Virginia snow, his eyes as light and icy as a dead-winter’s frost, and his skin was so freakishly colorless that he looked more like a figure in a wax museum, especially the way he stood there — motionless while his eyes tracked my every move.
Trying not to be rude, I shook off my opinions (slowly but surely) and stated, “I—I’m so sorry. I didn’t know someone was behind me…standing so close,” I added, hoping the stranger would cop to some of the blame. The odd young man didn’t utter a sound. He just kept staring a hole through me with his piercing, bleached baby-blues. His gaze was so unnerving it forced me to avert my stare. With a skittish stride, I swiftly moved to the other side of the room, but the creepy guy dressed in an out-of-date, three-piece light-gray suit ended up following me. Well, Hell… The man relentlessly “stalked me” throughout the entire store — every move, every turn.
Thankfully, I heard a chime “ding”. Thinking it was a clerk, I hurried to the rear counter. I wanted out of this store and away from this pasty prick. To my disappointment, no one was at the back of the store. No one except the white weirdo. A chill ran down my spine. He was now standing behind me — so close I could feel his heavy, hot breaths on the back of my neck. Shit!
Just as I turned around to confront him, a female’s voice called out, “Castor… Leave her alone.” Castor heard the woman’s call, but his gaze never broke, forcing mine not to waver as well. I couldn’t believe it. This colorless kook was actually staring me down.
“Castor!” the female voice bellowed again. When Castor’s gaze didn’t yield, a pair of fingers snapped. I turned my head with a heedful sweep, following suit with his, toward the stranger’s voice. An equally startling young woman with the same stark white hair, pasty skin, and the lightest of light blue eyes had emerged from behind the beaded curtain over the backdoor. Even her attire mimicked the young man’s with all its same outdated and theatrical flair.
“Now!” the woman insisted in a chastising tone as she heightened her stare. I caught the curl of Castor’s lip, but not before he leaned in even closer and inhaled a snort of air. My defenses kicked in and I jumped back.
Castor’s nostrils flared. He remained right where he stood, suspended in a trance while he tapped his finger on the tip of his nose. I didn’t have a clue what the heck he was “smelling” — or why? The creep!
“I be Ms. Lá Léo. How can I be helpin’ jou?” a different female voice called out, sounding clearly more Creole than the Cajun dialect I’d heard all day. I followed the lilting voice to the rear of the store. There stood the epitome of a voodoo practitioner (at least what I would’ve envisioned) by the bead-covered door. Maybe Katie was right about the store’s ambiance because this woman damn sure looked the part. Her skin was dark and smooth like bittersweet chocolate simmering to a glaze atop a warm stove. Her almond shaped eyes were a rich, coppery brown hue that glistened like new pennies under a sharp light. Her long black hair had been braided into countless layers, some pinned up while the rest trailed down. Vibrant colors and large geometric patterns swirled throughout the fabric of her tribal dress that flowed to her wrists and trailed down to the floor. Though her fingers were smothered in colorful rings, she wore only one necklace, a lariat that donned an identical copy of the skull and serpent hanging over the outside door.
Fitting, I thought.
&nb
sp; “I’m looking to purchase a voodoo doll,” I replied as I waved my selection in the air. “How much are they?” Like dropping a sack of bricks, both the women’s mouths fell to the floor.
“Ha, ha, ha… A tourist. How common,” the pale young woman cracked to Ms. Lá Léo with a snide glare. Now my mouth was on the floor.
“Bitch,” Katie shouted in my head.
“Umm,” I began to clarify, “I only ask, because there wasn’t a price.” The whitewashed woman’s giggles escalated, but Ms. Lá Léo remained silent while she threw me a discriminating eye. The voodoo woman stepped closer and took my left hand. Her eyes lit up immediately when she noticed my golden topaz ring.
“’Day always be a price,” Ms. Lá Léo cooed.
Ooookay, I thought silently as I retracted my hand.
“Since this is obviously her first time to N’awlins, why don’t you offer her a reading,” the pasty-pale woman urged to Ms. Lá Léo. “She’s quite skilled,” the woman assured. “But I’m afraid her store doesn’t offer a discount,” she quipped with an icy tongue while eyeing my plain leather purse. She purposely glanced at her sleek, designer bag and added, “No punch-cards either.”
“Easy, Ms. Valorre. I can’t have jou bad-mouthin’ ma customers,” Ms. Lá Léo interjected.
“Are you going to blast that stuck-up bitch with an attitude-adjustment or what?” Katie roared. I had to agree. The arrogant stride she sported when she breezed past me alone left me with no choice. While Ms. Valorre continued to browse the store, I tried to focus on her thoughts. But for some reason, I couldn’t. Not a single one of them! Her mind was like a blank, empty page.
NOW? No freakin’ way, I griped as I inadvertently leaned back on something to prop myself up. I was already sinking into defeat. I didn’t want to hit the floor too. Suddenly, I felt something slide against my shoulder. Something in my gut told me to turn my head slowly, and I’m sure glad I listened. The head of a monstrous python was lying on my shoulder and no sooner than I’d laid eyes on it, its forked-tongue tapped my cheek.
“’Dat be Tiny,” Ms. Lá Léo announced. “He don’t bite,” she assured with a half-hearted glare. I jumped away from the snake with a shudder, only to find myself now face-to-face with an almost black as tar, wrinkly dark-skinned old woman. “’Dat be Grand-mama…She do.”
I smiled uneasily and gave the weathered old woman an inconspicuous second-look. The hollowness in her eyes struck me as odd and eerily, they felt like daggers etching a trail as they tracked my every move.
“Is ‘dat all jou be gettin’? No. No. Jou need to go look ’round some more,” Ms. Lá Léo ordered. “Jou bound to find somethin’ else.”
“Um…okay,” I replied, not wanting to buck the intimidating shopkeeper. While walking around the store, I noticed I’d picked up a tail. Grand-mama. At least she didn’t give me the sceevies like Castor (but I could still feel his eyes on me too). The elderly woman stayed back for the most part, eyeing me quietly like I was a lion in the main-act at a zoo, intrigued but almost frightened. I thought that was ironic. I was more scared of her.
While I was browsing through a section of curious-looking beautifully crafted little bags, the old woman snuck up behind me and grabbed my left hand. After prying it loose, I looked down to discover that she had turned my golden topaz ring around. I could only see its metal band. She shot me a foreboding glare when I tried to switch it back. Grand-mama may have been mute, but the harrowing “NO” in her eyes came through loud and clear. She then reached for my right hand. I gave it to her, willingly this time. With a far-away look, she stared at the diamond in my class ring, almost like she knew something more special than a standard-issue synthetic stone lay there. She finally turned it around, along with my cloaked moonstone, and lifted her finger up to her lips. She then simply released a shushing wisp of air. To my surprise, her “timid” and “attentive” demeanor took a backseat, and in one swift move, she snatched the voodoo doll right out of my hand. Confused by her customer service (or lack of), I watched her toss it back in the bin. She started rooting through them and eventually pulled another one out of the pile. She carried it over to me, and I think, flashed her version of a smile.
I smiled back uneasily as I eyed the very one I’d thought was the most hideous of the bunch. It was a tattered and dirty-looking, dark-brown canvas doll that boasted a sinister black face, and honestly, it looked like it had already been “used”. I shook my head politely at the seemingly “helpful” woman and swiftly returned it to the bin. With a forced smile, I grabbed my original selection and strolled away. A loud “creak” coming from the hardwood floor sounded an alert that someone — again — was following me. I assumed it was Grand-mama, but after I felt a sharp prick — like something had pulled on my hair — I whirled around to see Castor standing there. The asshole had plucked out a few of my long blonde hairs and was sniffing them. That set me off! Why did I need to use telepathic powers anyway? Not when a mean right-hook would do the trick! Before I could even raise my fist, someone jerked him back by his neck.
“Castor Valorre,” an enchanting voice purred like a kitten. “Still a nuisance to the ladies, I see. Whenever are you going to find yourself a girl?” Straightaway, his head slammed against the counter. The rest of his body went limp, right before he smacked the ground in a “thud”. Castor was out cold. After mentally noting that he’d gotten what he deserved, I looked up to see who the veiled vigilante was that had come to my rescue.
With an appreciative grin, I watched the woman whisk back the hood of her long, flowing cape. I had to actually hold back a gasp. Of all the characters I’d had the pleasure of meeting here, she wasn’t what I expected to see. Her presence was intimidating, but in a strange, comforting way. My eyes canvassed her beautiful oval face, whose features were so perfectly proportioned in all the right places that I found myself in a desperate search for a flaw. None, I noted with a humble twinge of envy. Her round, lagoon-blue eyes sparkled like sunlight dancing on the sea, I couldn’t find the first sign of a pore on her luminescent porcelain skin, and her full pouty lips, which were painted an alluring shade of red, looked like they should be hanging in the plastic surgery hall-of-fame. If that weren’t enough to make even a supermodel insecure, the sight of her thick auburn mane alone would seal the deal. Not one freakin’ split-end, on any of her strands, and it was fashioned in a stunning cascading style, too. Even the silky, long layers of bangs that framed her face would make Jennifer Aniston reach for a noose. Yes, some people were blessed with an extra helping from the genetic pool and this chick had to have been at the front of the line. We were roughly the same height (our only similarity) — but I was pretty sure I had her by an inch!
While I stood there, still wonderstruck (and yes, still hoping to discover one shortcoming), Castor’s albino counterpart rushed over to where we stood.
“Castor?” The pale woman asked as she prodded him with her foot. That was the extent of her “thorough” check of his vital signs.
“Clover Valorre,” the bewitching redhead remarked. “Well, where there’s one, there’s the other. Kind of like boils and sores,” she insisted to me with a nod.
“Get up, Castor!” Clover Valorre insisted in a huff, ignoring the woman’s jab and keeping her eyes only on her pale-counterpart. Castor rose to his feet and dusted himself off. Considering he had just had his clock cleaned, he didn’t feel the need to initiate a stare down with his assailant. He brushed off the sneaky potshot and kept his head down, not even looking her way.
“I know he’s your brother, Clover, but even I keep my untamed pets on a leash,” the redhead taunted. The albino woman tried her best to avoid an exchange, but her own arrogance pressured her into throwing the redhead a vengeful glare.
“We have what we came for,” Clover Valorre assured her brother as she caressed a rectangular-shaped package wrapped in an ivory silk cloth and bound with a mustard gold cord. “Let’s go.” With both their heads held high, the pair of whitewashed w
eirdos strutted towards the door. “Good day, Ms. Lá Léo,” Clover stated curtly, the hollowness in her tone echoing throughout the store.
“Jou bedda tell jour ma-ma she need to be careful wit ‘dat book,” Ms. Lá Léo yelled out. Clover Valorre’s stride never broke. She waved her hand piously, disregarding the woman’s warning, as Castor opened the door.
“Oh, please do say ‘hello’ to your dear, sweet mother for me,” the redhead called out to them, her candied voice reeking with an underlying acidity.
A sleek, gray automobile screeched to a stop right outside the front of the store. It looked like one of those outrageously expensive cars you would see on TV. A Bentley, I thought as I crept closer for a better look. I took several more steps toward the door, fixated on Castor. He seemed to be engrossed with sniffing my strands of hair. His sunken cheeks protruded as his face stretched into smile. That sure sharpened my stare. Triumphantly, Castor placed my hair inside his jacket and turned towards the boutique. He stepped closer with his eyes locked dead on me.
“Freesias,” Castor mouthed in a taunting whisper, his noiseless words scratching my ears like nails. His sister pulled him away from the doorway within a second, leaving me to stare at the vacant spot while I rubbed my head. That threw me for a loop. He was right — I assumed. Though I’d never smelled the florally aroma myself, Bea and Tanner could. But why could he smell it out there and not in here?
I’d barely stepped away from the door when it slammed shut, all on its own.
“He’s quite deranged,” I thought I heard the redhead say.
I turned around and approached the woman, still stunned by the notion he could detect my supposed “scent”. “What did you say?” I asked.
Instead of kindly repeating what I’d thought was a warning, the redheaded woman’s blue-green eyes sparked with curiosity the closer I came. She suggested, “Don’t we know each other from somewhere?”
