by Sarra Cannon
“I’ll come with you,” Phoebe said.
“No. I’m fine, really. You go have fun.”
“Don’t be silly. It’s the least I can do after I destroyed it,” she said. “I’ll go with you and I’ll pay for it.”
This night couldn’t seem to get any worse. “Seriously, I’ve got it. I’ll meet you at the party or wherever you end up. It’ll only take half an hour or so.”
“On Halloween? Where do you have to go? If it's anywhere near Bourbon Street, it'll take an hour minimum just to get a cab,” Phoebe said. “The streetcars will be insane, too. That'll take hours, if there's even room this time of night. I'll call my dad's driver. He'll come get us and take us down there.”
“Your dad has a driver?” I asked.
I should have known. Her father was a big-shot real estate investor in this area, and I knew her family was wealthy. I hadn't realized that came with a private car, too.
“Of course,” she said. She pulled her cell phone from her bag and dialed.
“Stop,” I said. “I'll just drive myself.”
Freshman weren't technically allowed to park on campus, but Mom had insisted I have a car here in the city. I'd had to park a mile away, but I was willing to lose my parking spot if it meant sparing myself from having to explain to Phoebe why I was actually going to a voodoo shop instead of a doctor's office.
She laughed. “You barely even know your way around the city,” she said. “The traffic is going to be insane. Fletcher knows all the best routes.”
She wouldn’t take no for an answer, and I had no idea how to convince her to leave me alone without coming right out and being a witch about it. Besides, I knew she was right. A driver at her beck and call was probably the fastest way to Bourbon Street on a night like tonight.
“Fine,” I said, but Phoebe was already talking to her driver.
When she was done, she slipped her phone back into her bag. “He'll be here in ten minutes.”
I followed her downstairs and out to the street, my mind racing. How was I going to get out of this? Maybe I could ask her to wait in the car while I ran in and got the potion?
I barely spoke to her as we waited for the car to show up. And I barely spoke for the whole ride downtown. I glanced at the time. A ride that would have normally taken less than fifteen minutes was already pushing half an hour. I was getting anxious.
“Where are we really going, anyway?” Phoebe asked. “There’s something you’re not telling me. I’m not stupid enough to think you’re going to all this trouble over medicine. Or to believe you have an acupuncturist with an office on Bourbon Street.”
I groaned. She wasn't going to let up. I was going to have to tell her something.
Could I trust Phoebe? I’d only known her a couple of months. She could be really annoying sometimes, but she was one of my only friends.
“Look, I didn’t want to say anything in front of the others because I know everyone will think I’m crazy, but you’re right. This isn’t normal medicine, and I didn’t get it from an acupuncturist.”
“I knew it,” she said. Her eyes lit up and she leaned closer. “It’s drugs isn’t it?”
“No,” I said, although it might have been easier just to say yes and let her think the worst of me. I couldn’t tell her the whole truth, but once she saw the voodoo shop, she was going to get suspicious anyway. “It really is something I take for migraines, but it isn't exactly Western medicine. I get it from this shop down on Bourbon Street.”
She wrinkled her nose and leaned back against the plush leather seats. “What? Are you serious? We’re going to all this trouble for some hocus-pocus crap?”
“Believe whatever you want, but it’s important to me, and it works,” I said. “I get really sick if I don't take it.”
She rolled her eyes. “You are stranger than I thought,” she said. “Is it really so important it couldn’t wait until tomorrow?”
“Yes,” I said. “I told you. I've had a headache coming on all day. You said yourself tonight is the first time I've really wanted to go out and have fun. If I don't get that medicine, I'll end up back at the dorm with the lights out and an ice-pack on my head.”
Yes, it was a complete load of bull, but I hoped she would buy it.
“Well, I don’t believe in any of that tarot card and palm reading crap they do at those shops,” she said. “I find it hard to believe your miracle migraine cure is really better than a couple of Tylenol. It’s all a scam to get tourists to lay down their money. I never pegged you for the weirdo type.”
“If you had seen the things I’ve seen in my life, you wouldn’t question it,” I mumbled.
She pulled one of her long legs underneath her in the seat as we slowly rolled through traffic. “Seriously? Like what?”
Why did I keep letting my big mouth get me into trouble tonight? She was completely on board with the migraine thing. “I really don’t want to talk about it,” I said.
Luckily, Fletcher pulled to the side of the road at that moment and told us this was about as far as he would be able to get us right now.
Phoebe asked him to wait for us nearby and he nodded.
“You know, you never really talk much about your family and stuff,” Phoebe said as we stepped into the crowd of people lining the streets. “They live in California, right?”
“Yep,” I said. If she was determined to pry into my every secret, I was going to make her work for it. She asked questions the entire walk toward Bourbon Street, and I managed to give as few details as I could, mostly giving yes or no answers.
Once we got closer to the main strip, the crowd got big enough and loud enough that it was hard to carry on a normal conversation. I walked as fast as I could in my heels and she followed me as I weaved in and out of the throngs of costumed people.
I had really been looking forward to seeing what outrageous things people wore on Halloween down here, but now that I was right in the middle of it, all I could think about was getting my hands on another potion. I couldn't even stop to enjoy the sights.
When the sign for The Midnight Cauldron came into view, I was out of breath and my feet were throbbing.
“Wait up,” Phoebe called. “You almost lost me back there.”
“Sorry,” I said. “We’re almost there.”
The door to the shop was propped open, and I almost dropped to my knees in gratitude. I made it with two hours to spare.
I stepped toward the door, but Phoebe backed away. “Come on,” I said. “It’ll just take a minute.”
She shook her head. “No way. I’m not going in that place,” she said. She crossed her arms and leaned against the wall outside the shop.
I laughed. “Are you serious? You came all this way with me just to wait outside? What, are you scared of a little magic?”
“I told you I don’t believe in that crap,” she said, her features darkening. “I’ll pay for it if you want me to, but I don’t want any other part of it.”
I sighed. “Don’t worry about it,” I said. It was better for me if she waited out here, anyway. “I’ll be out in a minute.”
I forced my way into the small shop. I came here once a month and had never seen more than one or two people inside, but tonight the room was packed with people in masks and costumes browsing through the trinkets and talismans. I’m sure most of these people were tourists who thought this place was a curiosity or a fake, but I knew the truth. The Midnight Cauldron was the real deal, and so was Madame Kalisa. I just needed to find her and get another potion and everything would be okay.
I made it all the way up to the counter, but there was no sign of the priestess. A little bell sat on the glass counter alongside jars of dark liquid. I rang it and waited, tapping my foot against the dusty floor. I studied the collection inside the glass case of the counter. Rough beads. Handmade dolls. A mortar and pestle. A brass tray filled with what looked like old teeth.
Someone bumped me hard from behind and the counter rattled. A small j
ar of black liquid slid off the other side, and I reached out for it, cringing as it tumbled toward the floor. Madame Kalisa caught it just before it smashed, setting it back on top of the counter and giving me one of her wide grins. Her teeth were capped with gold and long, beaded dreadlocks clacked together as she stood.
“Becca, child, what ya doing here tonight?” she said in a thick Jamaican accent. “I wasn’t expecting ta see ya back here so soon.”
I looked around to make sure no one in the shop was paying particular attention. “I need another one of those vials,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper. “One of my friends accidentally smashed the other one.”
Her eyes widened and she clicked her tongue against her teeth. “No, no. I ain't got no more,” she said, waving her hands in the air. “Sold ya my last one earlier this week.”
I swallowed down the panic that rose in my throat. “What?” I could hardly breathe. “Madame Kalisa, I need that potion tonight.”
She pressed her lips together in a tight line and leaned against the glass counter. She wore a black formal gown that looked like something from the Victorian era with its big skirts and miles of fabric. Her large bosom nearly hung out of the top of the dress as she reached over to take my hand. “I’m sorry, child. I can’t help ya.”
My stomach twisted. “I’m begging you,” I said. I leaned toward her. “You know how important this is to me. There has to be something you can do. Can you make more? I’ll pay extra. Whatever it takes.”
Kalisa looked into my eyes, a sad smile on her face. “I wish I could help ya, dearie, but that’s one of the only elixirs I can’t make myself,” she said. “I told yer mother that when she asked me ’bout it. Rend, the vampire, is the only one knows how ta make that potion.”
“Can you call him or something? I could go pick it up,” I said, desperation growing like a virus inside me. “There has to be something I can do.”
“Rend’s had his own trouble to deal with lately,” she said. “And he don’t live ’round here. There’s nothing to be done.”
I closed my eyes and brought my hand to my forehead. I was trying not to have a complete breakdown in front of all these people, but I was losing it. Two hours left until midnight and there was no way to hide my tattoo from the Order of Shadows once the clock struck twelve. They would come for me. I had no doubt.
I turned my back on the priestess and slid down the glass case until my butt hit the floor. The tears came fast and hard. I wouldn’t even have a chance to say goodbye to my mom. I needed to call her, but what would I tell her? That I’d been careless and it was only a matter of time now before they found me? She would never forgive me.
Madame Kalisa came around the counter and crouched beside me. She placed a warm hand on mine. Her skin was dark as night against my own. “Stand up, child,” she whispered. “Don’t cry. Come with me and let’s see if we can find someone who can help.”
I wiped the tears from my cheeks and followed her back behind the counter. She led me through a curtain of amber-colored beads to a dark room with an old wooden table. A deck of tarot cards was stacked on top.
Shadows danced around the room as dozens of candles flickered. Madame Kalisa walked to a wooden bowl filled to the top with water. I peered inside and saw a collection of brightly colored gemstones strewn across the bottom of the bowl. Her ring-covered fingers hovered over the top for a moment and she closed her eyes, mumbling words I couldn’t make out.
She reached inside and closed her palm around a red gemstone. She lifted it from the water and whispered into it. I leaned forward, trying to understand what she was saying, but it was impossible to hear her over the noise of the growing crowd of tourists in the shop.
I waited, my stomach in knots, sending up a prayer that someone out there could find a way to help me.
She finally opened her eyes and nodded. She held her hand out to me and placed the red stone in my hand, closing my fingers over it. “He will help you, child, but you must hurry.”
“Who?” I asked.
“His name is Jean-Pierre. He is very old and very powerful, and he’s none too happy to be disturbed tonight of all nights,” she said. “He’s expecting you and he says he’ll do what he can.”
“Where do I go?”
She scribbled an address on a scrap of paper and thrust it into my hand. “You must trust him, girl, even with your darkest secrets.”
I clutched the stone tightly in my hand and nodded. “Thank you,” I said. I pulled the priestess into a hug that made her laugh and shake her head.
“Go on,” she said. “Midnight waits for no one.”
I pushed through the beaded curtain and the crowded store and rushed out into the fearful night.
The Red Stone
“Did you get it?” Phoebe asked.
I barely stopped to make sure she was with me.
“I got it,” I lied. I couldn’t have her tagging along on this next part. “But I have somewhere else I have to go. Can Fletcher drop me off at my car?”
I knew it would cost more time to have to drive there myself, but I couldn't let Phoebe know where I was going.
“Wait,” she said, grabbing my hand. She stopped in the middle of the crowded street. “Where are you going now? You’re going to miss everything. This was supposed to be our night.”
I still clutched the red stone in my palm. It seemed to pulse against my skin. I needed to come up with some excuse she’d understand. “I got a text from a friend who needs my help with something private. I have to go meet them for a few minutes. I promise I’ll catch up with you guys later.”
I turned and forced my way through the costumed throng. A topless woman shouted angrily as I pushed past her.
“What? Who?” Phoebe had to practically jog to catch up with me. “Becca, wait.”
“I’m sorry, I have to hurry,” I said, not slowing down. At this point, I didn’t really care what she thought of me. Midnight was right around the corner, and I didn’t have time to be patient.
“You’re being weird,” she said. “What friends do you have around here besides us, anyway?”
Her comment stung. It was true, but it still stung.
“I have friends,” I lied.
“Oh, my goodness, it’s a guy, isn’t it?” she asked. She grabbed my arm again and slowed me down. “Who is it? You have to tell me. Is it Wes?”
“I’ll fill you in later,” I said. “I promise.”
“A secret rendezvous?” she asked, giggling. “Juicy. You have to give me all the details.”
“I will.”
“I had no idea you were even seeing someone,” she said. She seemed much more excited at the prospect of me meeting a guy than going to a voodoo shop.
She asked questions about my mystery guy all the way back to the car, and somehow I managed to answer them in the vaguest way possible.
“Why don't you just have Fletcher drop you off where you need to go?” she asked when we met up with him a few blocks over. We climbed into the back of the car.
“Robin just texted that they’re at the frat house,” I said, checking my phone. “That's close to my car, if he can just drop us off there.”
“That’s fine,” she said with a sigh. “I still don't understand why you're being so secretive about this.”
“Look, I'm really sorry, okay? Someone really does need my help,” I said. I was full of lies tonight. “I don't want to keep you away from the party. Wasn't there a guy you were hoping to see there?”
Turning the topic to her was a good plan. Phoebe chatted about the different guys she hoped to see tonight, as Fletcher navigated through the traffic. It wasn't as bad heading back toward campus.
Thirty minutes later, we'd finally made it to the frat house.
“I’ll message you later to see where you ended up,” I said as I bolted from the car.
“Are you sure everything’s okay?” she asked. “You don't need me to come with you? I don't mind.”
�
�I’m fine,” I said. “I’ll fill you in on the juicy details later.”
She smiled and gave me a quick hug before she got out of the car, but I could tell she wasn't satisfied with my answers. “Sorry again about all the trouble earlier,” she said. “I’ll see you soon?”
“Have fun.”
I took off in a half-run toward the street where I'd parked my car. After two blocks, I started to wish I had time to run back to the dorm and grab my sneakers. But, time was something I didn't have nearly enough of right now.
I unlocked my car and climbed inside.
I pulled the scrap of paper from my bra and typed the address into my phone’s GPS. It quickly came up with a route and estimated that it was seven minutes away. I let out a sigh of relief that it wasn’t an hour drive and pulled onto the street.
Jean-Pierre
The computerized voice on my phone directed me to an older neighborhood I’d never been to before. Houses out here were old and huge and looked like they probably cost a million bucks or more. I slowed as I got closer, peering out at the numbers on the mailboxes until I saw the one that said 1912. There was a spot on the street right in front and I pulled into it, grateful I didn’t have to waste another second looking for parking tonight.
While most of the city was teeming with people and noise tonight, this street was surprisingly quiet. It was too late for trick-or-treaters and I had the feeling people around here didn’t give the same kind of wild parties that were going on downtown or back on campus.
Fear flowed like ice through my veins as I got out of the car and walked to the iron gate. The house was an old Victorian-style mansion with arched windows and dark brown shutters. A large balcony spanned the entire second floor. My heels clicked along the pavement as I made my way up the walkway toward the stairs. She’d said Jean-Pierre was very old and very powerful. What did that mean? How old? And how powerful?
Judging from the dim lighting that shone through the curtains and the faint sounds of music and laughter coming from inside, it looked like he was having some kind of small party of his own. I didn’t want to think about how angry he would be for having his Halloween festivities interrupted. And I definitely didn’t like the idea of walking into some unknown house on the spookiest night of the year.
