The Voodoo Children: An Urban Fantasy Witch Novel (Retail Witches Series Book 2)

by Les Goodrich

  “That’s quite a church across the street,” Jordan noted.

  “And a cafe next door. A coffee shop just behind us,” Josephine added.

  “Perfect,” Jordan said and they headed to the Jeep.

  “What a place,” Jordan said.

  “Amazing,” Tanner added and they headed back with their bags.

  “Just through here,” Josephine said and they followed her through the old but ample kitchen to a stairwell beyond. “I live on this floor. My two brothers, Grayson and Charles live on the second floor. You may have seen them in your store. They are my bodyguards. At the very top is where my niece Fallon lives. She is thirteen years old and asked to come live here when she was ten. Her mother, my sister, lives just across the corner on Orleans. Fallon is an old soul. I’m sure you will see some of her while you are here. She is quite special. You will be staying in the basement. This way.”

  Josephine led the way down the stairs to the base landing and pushed open a stout wooden door. Tanner shared a look with Jordan and they followed Josephine in.

  Dozens of glass candles flickered and lit the space and in the near corner behind the door a voodoo altar overflowed with dolls, herbs, bottles, more candles, painted and peeling statues, and animal skulls. A spray of dried flowers and iridescent rooster feathers sprouted from a stone urn and heady jasmine incense smoked through star-shaped holes in a brass burner. A black wooden box was wired shut with barbed wire and a low rusted tray held a collection of stones, shells, and a dried clay ball spiked with a hundred twisted nails.

  The room walls were damp and the rough wooden furniture held cushions of threadbare paisley and pillows of ancient make. Two twin beds in the back flanked a single table that held the room’s only lamp. Above the beds a regiment of tattered dolls leaned woefully on a head-high shelf. Their tiny feet hung in the air, their heads lolled at various angles, their lost eyes stared for eternity, and among their faded homemade clothing there was little coordination.

  “I hope you will be comfortable here. Dinner is at seven,” Josephine said. “We have much to discuss,” she added and closed the door.

  Jordan walked cautiously across the room to put her bag on one of the beds. “I wonder if there’s anything else we can possibly do to this place, to make absolutely certain we have the most terrifying nightmares in history?”

  “I should have brought my life-sized demonic clown statue.”

  “Oh there’s probably one around here if we look. Do me a favor and don’t open any trap doors if you see them.”

  “I’m not sure I can hang out in here until seven o’clock,” Tanner said.

  “We have to sleep in here so we might as well get used to it. It’s just an hour.”

  “Okay but don’t you leave me in here.”

  “Let’s go for a walk then. Just in the neighborhood.”

  “Good idea,” Tanner said grabbing his coat from the bed. “I can call Rick Warren. Tell him we’re here.”

  “You mean Giorgio Jones?”

  “Don’t call him that. I’m liable to say it to his face.”

  They headed upstairs through the kitchen where a tall slim man they had not met was bent at cooking in a white apron and chef’s hat. He nodded to them in silence and they nodded back. In the living room of the ground floor Josephine sat by the fire and read.

  “We’re going for a short walk. We’ll be back,” Jordan said.

  “Just go to Jackson Square. Follow the alley that way. The river there is the Mississippi. Remember, dinner at seven. Stay together and don’t go far.”

  “We’ll be back,” Jordan said again and the two headed out. They walked down Pirate Alley and into the streetlamp glare of Chartres Street. Three men were playing music at the edge of the park and they listened to them sing and each played guitar.

  There was an old farmer who lived on a hill

  He ain’t gone away he’s livin’ there still

  The devil came up to the farmer one day

  Said I’m taking one of your family away

  Don’t take my boy, my oldest son

  There’s work on the farm that needs to be done

  Take my wife who broke my heart

  And I pray you two shall never part

  Tanner and Jordan laughed and moved into the park. They walked the circular paths and stopped at the far corner. From there they could see, just across the street, Cafe Du Monde.

  “We don’t have time for coffee,” Tanner said.

  “But before we leave we have to go there. You do know, that’s the oldest coffee shop in the entire country.”

  “Is it?”

  “It is. That’s holy ground my friend. Holy ground.”

  “Holy grounds.”

  They laughed. “You’re such a nerd,” Jordan said and they walked on.

  As they walked Tanner called Agent Warren, who answered on the first ring.

  “Tanner. Are you in New Orleans?”

  “Yessir. Jordan and I are staying with Josephine Lemort.”

  “Which one was Jordan, the short cute one, or the tall hot one?”

  “Uh, the taller.”

  “Can she handle herself? This is likely to get messy.”

  “She can handle herself.”

  “Fine, bring her, and meet me for a drink tonight. We have a lot to talk about.”

  “Well, we’re meant to have dinner with our hosts tonight and I think it’s a done deal.”

  “That’s okay. I’ll be up late. Where is her place exactly?”

  “It’s on Pirate Alley next to the big church. The French Quarter just, um, north of Jackson Square.”

  “I know the area. There’s a pub on the corner at the end of that lane. Come after dinner whenever you can get away. I’ll be there.”

  Tanner opened his mouth to reply but Rick hung up before he could speak.

  “Okay,” Tanner said and put his phone in his pocket. “I guess I’m meeting him in the pub next door to our place after dinner. He said for you to come too.”

  “We’ll see. We better head back.”

  They made it back before seven, cleaned up in their creepy basement apartment, and were upstairs promptly at a few minutes before seven p.m.

  In the ground floor living room sat Grayson and Charles, both in black slacks, black silk shirts, and black ties. Fallon sat with crossed legs upon a tufted ottoman near the swaying fire. Josephine stood as if anticipating Jordan and Tanner. They came through the kitchen that smelled of savory cooking.

  “Perfect,” Josephine said. “Jordan, Tanner, this is Grayson and Charles.”

  The men stood in turn and shook hands with the guests and all introduced themselves.

  “Grayson Lemort.”

  “Tanner.”

  “Jordan.”

  “Charles.”

  “Nice to meet you both,” Jordan said and Tanner said, “Yes.”

  Fallon stood and smoothed her white dress. She curtsied. The white beads in her braids rattled softly. “Fallon,” she said. “I’m so happy you are here.”

  “Thank you,” Jordan said and the two shook hands.

  Tanner shook Fallon’s hand as well and the group followed Josephine to the dining room.

  The tall slim man served them shrimp étouffée, steamed vegetables, fresh homemade French bread, and white wine. He vanished into the house and reappeared occasionally to refill their wine. Even Fallon drank a small glass of wine but she also drank water. The man cleared the plates and served them a dessert of peach cobbler with vanilla ice cream and strong coffee in small glass cups.

  Jordan and Tanner said thank you at least six times each and complimented the delicious meal many times. They all sat in the living room and the tall man mended the fire then worked in the kitchen at cleaning while Josephine spoke.

  “We are so grateful to have you both here. I have been searching, along with the local voodoo collective of priests and priestesses, for Figment since his abuse of power became evident. Searching to no avail. Fo
r this reason we are so impressed by your abilities to, from such a great distance, locate him in our own back yard.

  “The one thing this means for sure is that he has powerful defenses in place. He will have also set up elaborate protective measures. A voodoo master trained in the dark arts by a Shadowclan witch is a worthy foe. We know he is located somewhere in the Quarter. We did an initial search upon my return, based on the information you discovered, and now believe his location to be somewhere in the northern section. No one has gone to look specifically. Am I to understand an agent from the IWM is in town?”

  “Yes,” Tanner said. “I’m to meet with him at some point tonight. At the pub next door.”

  “Very well. Go when you wish, but I would like to keep Jordan here and go over the French Quarter maps with her. Also tell her some about what we can expect on the ground.”

  “Here,” Tanner said and he pulled out his phone and texted the picture of the map slim had showed him. Jordan opened the note and the image. Josephine leaned to look and Tanner explained the picture. “This is an old map. These black boxes are said to show alleys and lanes that are not blocked at that end. So where you see a black box, you know you can go through that way.”

  “Interesting,” Josephine said, “but things change daily in this town. Interesting nonetheless. Could you send me this picture as well?”

  “Sure,” Tanner said and he did so then stood to leave.

  “This reminds me, you can use your electronics inside the house without fear. It is well protected. But since every hole in the wall has free internet these days, you must be cautious when you are out and about. I think you already have some idea of what Figment is capable of. Do not leave yourself open to him.”

  “Thank you,” Tanner said and he moved to the door to Meet Rick. Jordan got up and walked to the door with him.

  “Be sure to find me before you go in for the night,” she said.

  “I’ll text you, but if you finish before I’m back, just come to the pub. I think agent Rick has a thing for you.”

  “He’s good looking in a rugged kind of way,” Jordan said. “But the pipe kills it for me.” Tanner left to meet the agent. Jordan pulled the door closed and returned to the living room to sit with Josephine and Fallon. Grayson and Charles ascended to their floor.

  “Your friend Tanner is honest and true,” Josephine said. “He has courage but his courage is based on knowledge. He has a compulsion to know and understand things. When he does, he is fearless. This is the spirit of a wise warrior.”

  “True,” Jordan said and she had an uneasy feeling that Josephine could look as deeply into her. She looked to Fallon who’s eyes sparkled in the firelight and as she did the girl gently nodded and Jordan knew she meant Josephine was a good person and could be trusted.

  “And me?” Jordan asked, thinking she had no room for a lack of trust and it was better to be on a level playing field from the start. Josephine’s eyes raised in surprise but there was no surprise in them and she spoke with honesty but a kindness as well.

  “You are used to succeeding. It makes you confident. The only time you question yourself, is when you wonder if you could be doing more, or better. You have always excelled at the things you try, with very few exceptions. You recognize your strengths and honestly acknowledge your weaknesses. This makes you good at helping others because you are so good at some things, you don’t have to pretend to be at others.”

  “Okay,” Jordan said and there was an awkward silence because she had nothing to offer except that she agreed. Eventually she just said, “Thank you.”

  Fallon giggled then cleared her throat. “And Aunt Josephine has the power and luxury of hindsight because she is old. Older than you and I added together. So old in fact, that she is able to assemble memories of the countless people she has known who remind her of someone, then summarize them in a way that feels like fortune telling to young ears. Like a wizard who recalls an eclipse and uses that knowledge to create the illusion of controlling the heavens.”

  Josephine’s face was grim and she was silent and Jordan squirmed at the feeling in the air created by Fallon’s assessment, and to her it made the previously awkward silence feel like a joyful day in the park. Josephine took a long breath and at the end of it, the curl at the corner of her mouth sent relief through Jordan’s tight chest and the room relaxed and Josephine spoke and her voice was filled with sport and humor.

  “And Fallon believes that because she is intelligent, she is also smart. She is young enough to believe that being intelligent in one area makes you so in all areas, and so she often climbs higher than she should and finds herself unknowingly among her betters. Like a champion race car driver who has always been the authority among his racing peers who is ushered into an emergency room and asked for advice on an impending brain surgery. Or the wise academic professor who has every answer, as long as the questions fall solely within the ivy covered walls of the university sanctuary that has become his world entire.”

  “Whatever,” Fallon said and Josephine laughed.

  With their parlor game over Josephine showed Jordan a map of New Orleans and she described several areas and their histories.

  “This graveyard is treacherous. Since the city is low and surrounded by water, all of the old cemeteries have above ground crypts. This situation lends itself to meddling with the dead. It leads to restless spirits. In Saint Augustine you are used to ghosts. In New Orleans, when what shows up is merely a ghost, we’re thrilled.”

  “What do you mean?” Jordan asked.

  “Zombies,” Fallon said making notes in a notebook and Jordan looked from her to Josephine.

  “Yes. The undead. Their numbers have increased lately and we suspect Figment to be employing them in some way. Soldiers. Slaves. We must be cautious. Any spell that can affect a living human can affect the undead as well. They can also be defeated physically. But every touch weakens the living and gives them strength, so fighting them must be a quick and violent enterprise, not a long drawn out struggle. When they see the living their goal is always the same.”

  “Which is?” Jordan asked.

  “To weaken you enough to drag you back into the Earth with them and feed on your slowly dying life. They are compelled to do so.”

  “Awesome,” Jordan said and Josephine went on. She showed Jordan other areas and described many places and dark forces she had defeated in the past and when she tended to stray from the task at hand, Fallon would gently remind her and in this way Jordan learned of Shadowclan strongholds and likely spots of ambush and in a strange way she felt intrigued by the dark nature of the old city.

  ***

  Tanner zipped up his jacket against the damp night and walked the short way down the alley to the bar. The lane was dreary and dimly lit and the imposing cathedral loomed like a prison above the iron fence that surrounded it. The many swinging wood pub doors stood opened and Tanner looked through the bar at patrons on stools and a few were standing. He walked through the corner of the bar and out through the doors on the far side where he saw four small tables under umbrellas on the sidewalk.

  “Tanner,” a voice said and he saw IWM agent Rick Warren leaning back at one of the tables. Smoke from his pipe swirled and Rick lifted his mug of amber beer in greeting and Tanner stepped up. “Have a seat. A girl will be around if you’re lucky.”

  “And if I’m unlucky?” Tanner asked and sat.

  “Then the guy will be around.” Rick sipped his beer. The girl barmaid arrived wearing the garb of a pirate bar wench.

  “Something for you dear?” she asked and leaned down with her hand on Tanner’s shoulder.

  “The same,” Tanner said and nodded to Rick’s mug and the wench said, “Perfect,” and was gone.

  Rick smoked his pipe and studied Tanner. He sipped his beer and said nothing for a long moment. The girl returned with Tanner’s beer. Tanner sipped it and Rick finally spoke.

  “Where’s Jordan?”

  “She stayed w
ith Josephine. To learn about the area and what to expect. I guess to hear what they know so far.”

  “That’s good. It’s what we need actually. Today was my second day here and I’m beginning to get the feeling the locals aren’t in any hurry to help an out-of-towner. It’s kind of hard because you can’t just ask the man on the street if he knows where to find a Shadowclan voodoo hacker. I mean, I have my ways, but searching for dark energy takes time. Look at this.”

  Rick reached into his pocket. He pulled out an aqua crystal and placed it on the table.”

  “Aqua aura quartz,” Tanner said and he picked up the gorgeous transparent blue stone and turned it in the table candle light.

  “Yes. It’s made when quartz is bonded with gold on a molecular level. It can do two things. It can deflect a negative spell, but it can also trap malicious energies. I charge it with sunlight on the solstices. It has served me well for years.

  “I usually just cast a locator spell and use this suspended from a silver chain. I made a cage for it that opens so I can put the crystal in and out. Then I follow where it points and when I get closer it glows.”

  “Have you tried it here?” Tanner asked.

  “Yesterday, but there’s a problem. It seems there’s no shortage of dark energy in this town. This thing led me to a graveyard, a haunted hotel, and two voodoo shops. Even this very alley lit it up when I first got here. I think a Shadowclan witch works out of this pub if I had to guess. Or maybe a few are drinking in here right now.”

  “Well Josephine has narrowed the guy’s location down to the north part of the French Quarter.”

  “Good. Still a pretty big area. Are you quick with a wand?”

  “I’d like to think so. I can handle myself.”

  “What about Jordan?”

  “I’m telling you, you don’t have to worry about her.”

  “If you say so. Another round please!” Rick called to the barmaid and she nodded on her way by just inside the opened doors. “What about this Josephine Lemort?”

  Tanner drank his beer a bit faster than normal knowing another was on the way. “I’m not sure what to make of her. She’s extremely polite. I can tell she genuinely wants to catch this guy as much as anyone. But she has some motive I don’t understand. I honestly believe she’s more concerned with a guy like Figment tarnishing the good name of voodoo. I mean, they do get a bad rap.”