by Judith Lucci
She squinted her eyes to see through the mist on the lake and thought she saw a boat approaching. Whatever was in the water was illuminated by candlelight. Suddenly, people rushed to the shoreline where loud chanting erupted and numerous pots of fire were lit by a group of cloaked figures. The raft came closer. Alex was so intent on watching the scene in the fog and mist below she didn't notice the huge black man approach her from behind. Suddenly, a quiet voice spoke directly into her ear.
"Who are you, and why are you here?" The voice was lilting, and the man spoke in a dialect she thought was Gumbo French.
Alex almost jumped out of her skin at the sound of his voice. She was unable to speak as she looked at the huge man. She was terrified and thought she was going to pass out. She struggled for control and gawked at the big man. He wore a white billowing poet's shirt and tight, dark breeches. His skin was the darkest black she had ever seen, and his hair reached nearly to his knees. He had much of his hair tied up in a number of knots and braids secured by bones. The pupils of his eyes were dilated and glassy. The more Alex gazed at him, the more frightened she became. She was sure the man could hear her heart thudding in harmony with the drums.
The man eyed her steadily. "I asked you who you are. Speak or leave." His voice sounded foreboding, threatening.
"My name is Alexandra Destephano. I work at the Medical Center, and I have to find someone who knows about the voodoo that's been happening at the hospital. Can you tell me?"
"I know nothing. Leave here. You're not welcome. You're not one of us." The man, his pronouncement ominously final, pointed towards the cars.
"The lady from the voodoo museum told me to come." Alex persisted as she shook so hard her teeth chattered. "She said I could learn more about the voodoo curse at the medical center from the people who are here. Who are you?" Alex was shocked that she was even able to speak. She couldn’t figure out if she was shaking from fear or the cold air.
The man just stared at her. His eyes were enormous. The whites of them almost blinded her in the darkness. "I'm a witch doctor. My name's Dr. John. I serve the High Priestess. Leave here at once. I demand it. If you do not leave immediately, we will kill you."
Alex watched Dr. John move steadily towards the lakefront. She hid behind the tree when he turned to look for her. She watched until he disappeared into the crowd and breathed a sigh of relief when he was gone. She turned her attention to the crowd. Suddenly the tempo of the music increased, the drums beat faster. A group of women stripped off their clothing and began to dance naked. Several of them donned white camisoles and circled the bonfire, their movements undulating in the firelight. The female dancers mesmerized Alex as they escalated their movements to the driving drumbeat. Alex could hear them panting, and she could clearly see the rising and falling of their breasts as they moved around the bonfires.
Suddenly, the music stopped. Alex moved closer and hid as best she could. The barge on the river had reached the shore. Alex could vaguely make out some activity aboard the barge. It was difficult to see through the mist. She then noticed an old black man sitting on a cylinder made of thin cypress staves hooped with brass and headed by a sheepskin. Alex thought it was a makeshift drum. With two sticks the old man beat a monotonous ra-ta-ta, ra-ta-ta, ra-ta-ta. On his left, a large black woman sat on a low stool beating another tone with two long bones. A third mulatto woman accompanied them on the other side of the drum. She began beating a higher, faster beat on some sort of steel instrument. It was an eerie sight, almost supernatural, to see the trio banging on drums with animal bones. The sounds that emanated from the drums were exotic and frightening and unlike anything Alex had ever heard. It was spine-chilling. Alex was beyond belief as she stared at the sight. The music and sounds captivated her. It sounded like a movie build-up in a horror film.
The women in white had formed a semi-circle around the altar table, and they continued to undulate suggestively to the rhythm. Alex did not know who the women were, but they were obviously important. She remembered the camera in her cell phone and snapped several pictures of the sights. The sounds continued, ra-ta-ta, ra-ta-ta, ra-ta-ta, while a woman and two men descended from the barge and walked toward the altar. The crowd, in rapt silence, paid homage to their Queen. The crowd swayed back and forth to the ra-ta-ta, ra-ta-ta beat. The scene was frightening and sinister.
It was impossible to guess the age of the voodoo Queen. She was ageless. Alex, struck by the immensity of the power the Queen commanded, was also awed by her magnificent presence. She was regal, majestic. The Queen wore a full cotton skirt of many colors and a bright green blouse. She wore gold hoop earrings and numerous gold chains around her neck and waist. Her hair was bound up under a brightly colored turban that added height to her statuesque beauty. The voodoo Queen was royal, stately, and beautiful in her presence. Her skin was a cross between the color of honey and cafe au lait. Alex was awestruck and could hardly look away from the Queen's face. She was captivated in the moment.
Sounds of exultation broke from the crowd as the woman, the High Priestess of New Orleans, mumbled incantations and threw powders and liquid at the gathering from a calabash in her hand. As she continued to mutter and gesture upward with her arms, the crowd became more and more frenzied, ecstatic, and euphoric.
The Queen raised her hand to the drummer as he dismounted from his drum and withdrew an immense snake from the basket at his feet. He wildly brandished the snake above his head. The crowd roared with pleasure and began to chant. He handed the snake to the Queen. She talked and whispered to it. At every word the reptile, with an undulating body and darting tongue, seemed to acknowledge and relish the power the Queen asserted over it. The crowd crossed their hands on their chests and began to moan, a long, sonorous lament, and moved in unison from left to right. It was without a doubt the most fearsome sound Alex had ever heard. She felt as if her face would burn up, but her body was frozen in place.
The crowd chanted, "Voudou. Voudou Magnian," over and over again. The Queen continued to flaunt the snake, finally compelling the reptile to stand upright exposing ten inches of its body. The snake danced alone for several minutes.
Alex was fascinated and awestruck. The crowd continued to moan and chant as the Queen began to twirl the snake around her head and over the crowd. She forced the snake to wiggle and writhe over and over, around the circle.
The crowd uttered the words, "Voudou, Voudou," repeatedly.
Without warning, the Queen twirled the snake around by its head and with great skill cast it into the blazing fire. A yell, that no words could truly describe, arose from the crowd. It was inhuman… feral… fearful. The drums began again, and crude musical instruments played by the Voodoos contributed to the bedlam. The sounds became louder and louder until Alex could hardly think. It was as if her brain and her body had been taken over. Chaos reigned. Alex thought she'd entered the chorus of Dante's Hell in the heart of darkness in deepest Africa but for the life of her, she could not move.
Suddenly, up sprang a magnificent specimen of human flesh - a beautiful, lithe, tall black woman with a body that waved and undulated like the snake - a perfect goddess from the jungles of Africa. The woman confined herself to a spot not more than two feet square and began to sway to one side and then the other. Gradually, the undulating motion controlled her body from the ankles to the hips. She tore a white handkerchief from her head, apparently a cue for the huge witch doctor to join her in the circle. The two undulated together, in pure passion and ecstasy. Both were naked, but Alex didn’t think that any of it was about sex - it was more about possession. Maybe evil possession. Nevertheless, Alex remained spellbound. She couldn't have moved if she'd willed herself. She was so engrossed, she ignored the chill bumps all over her body. The dance continued for what seemed an infinite length of time. Finally, the Queen raised her hand. The dancers disappeared.
The only sound was the continuous ra-ta-ta, ra-ta-ta, ra-ta-ta of the drums. The Queen moved into position behind the altar. Alex w
atched, fascinated, as a large cauldron was put into the fire. An old man filled it with water and powders. He jabbered something in a strange dialogue Alex couldn’t understand. A young quadroon girl moved to the center of the altar behind the cauldron and sang a mournful song in an unknown tongue while she put seasonings in the cauldron. Then a box was placed on the table from which a black snake was removed and immediately cut into three pieces to represent the black Trinity. The Queen, the old man, and the young quadroon girl each threw a piece of the snake, still writhing, into the pot. Steam, or the snake, made a horrific hissing sound.
Immediately a new chant began: "Mamzelle, la Queen chauff ez ca." The crowd continued the chant until the Queen brought forth a cat whose throat she immediately slit. Blood spurted out from its neck arteries over the white cloth on the table and on the ground. Blood also spurted onto the watchers. The crowd went wild with the sight of blood, and they reached out to touch it and spread it over their naked bodies. The queen cast the cat into the cauldron. Again there was a terrible cry and a great hissing sound.
Next a white woman, dressed in white, danced towards the altar. She carried a black rooster. The black rooster was dazzling against her white gown. The woman danced with the rooster in the firelight. The crowd, chanting, continued to sway back and forth. After another repetition of the chorus, the Queen tied the feet and head of the rooster together and tossed it alive into the pot. Another hissing sound. A second rooster was bought forward and immediately beheaded - its headless body moved awkwardly as it bled profusely on the white cloth. The rooster's awkward body movements gave the illusion of a dance and it seemed to keep time to the chant. The crowd continued to sing until the rooster finally died. Sounds of exultation emanated from the crowd. The voodoos raised their hands to the heavens as the rooster, too, was cast into the pot by the witch doctor.
The Queen then ordered the remaining crowd to undress. Her followers stripped off their clothes. Some of the women danced with large white handkerchiefs which they raised towards the sky as their bodies swayed from head to toe like snakes. A select group joined hands and danced around the cauldron. They began singing and chanting the chorus, "C'est l'amour, oui Maman c'est l'amour," over and over and over. The sight wasn't human. The music, the drums, the blood, and the chanting created a macabre scene as hundreds of bodies, men and woman of every color writhed erotically and gestured to each other. Alex was gruesomely fascinated. She couldn't tear her eyes away from the sight below her.
Finally, the chant slowed and the dancing ceased. The crowd formed a semi-circle around the cauldron and again began to moan and hum simultaneously and watched the approach of the witch doctor with his final gift to the Queen. He came dancing naked into the firelight, the light from the flames glistening over his body. Firelight danced off his gold chains and reflected his ebony color. He was carrying a white sack. His hair hung to his buttocks, and his enormous erect phallus was clearly visible as he raised the sack toward the heavens in ultimate sacrifice. The crowd continued to chant and moan incessantly in rhythm with the drums. After a period of time, the witch doctor placed the white sack on the altar for his Queen. She unwrapped it, and held up a newborn baby. The crowd went wild with ecstasy. The Queen smiled in approval and held the infant up for all to see while the little old man handed her a clean, glistening knife.
That was it. Alex was jerked back into reality. She screamed in terror and started running toward the altar to save the infant.
As she made her way through the dancing bodies, a hard arm clasped her around her neck, stifled her screams, and caused her to lose consciousness for a few moments. The man was large, his body completely covered in black. His grip paralyzed her. She couldn’t breathe. Alex gasped for air. She tried to fight him, but his intense strength made her efforts useless. She kicked at his legs and grabbed at his head as she thought briefly that he had a ponytail under his hood. As her assailant continued to drag her up the hill toward the clearing, Alex fought frantically. The man never said a word, but increased his grip around her neck. After what seemed to be an interminable length of time, the grip on her neck relaxed. Another man, also dressed in dark clothes, had attacked her assailant from behind, and knocked him down with a large tree limb. Alex felt a severe blow to her shoulder and arm as she was tossed down. She heard a long string of curse words as the two men began to fight. She watched, dazed, as the men circled each other repeatedly. Finally, her assailant fled, with two other men in pursuit. Only then did Alex turn to her rescuer. She was incoherent with fear. Her rescuer also wore a long cloak and his face was hooded. Was she to be exchanged as a gift? All sorts of ludicrous possibilities ran through Alex's mind. Was she to be the next ritualistic sacrifice? The hooded man came toward her, grabbed her, and hurled her forward.
As Alex's eyes adjusted to the darkness and mist, she saw the small, furious eyes of Jack Francoise.
"What in the fuck are you doing here?" Francoise hissed at her. His face was livid. "This place is dangerous, a hell hole. You almost got yourself killed. You were stupid to come out here alone. These people are all drugged up and crazy, not to mention that man who's been eyeing you all night," he said loudly. "You are a dumb, crazy bitch,” he uttered under his breath.
Even though Alex was angry at Francoise for talking to her like that, she was so glad to see him, she almost kissed him. Instead, she said as best she could, "Captain, they were going to kill that baby. Oh my God, that’s murder. We have to go back - we have to! Can we go back and get it?" Alex's voice was scratchy and her throat was sore.
"The baby's fine. My men rescued her. Let's get out of here before they cook us in that damn pot.”
Alex needed no encouragement. She bolted, her right arm sagging at her side.
Once they arrived at the cars, Jack asked, “How are you feeling? You don't look so good." Francoise examined Alex critically as he opened the car door. As the light from the car blanketed her, it was obvious she was injured. She was pale and sweating.
Indeed, Alex's shoulder was on fire with pain. "I think my shoulder may be broken. It hurts like crazy." She was sweating profusely even though the air around her was cool.
"Give me your car keys. I'll have one of my men drive your car home. I'm taking you to the emergency department at CCMC."
Alex started to protest, but seeing the look in the captain's eyes, she decided to save her energy. "Okay," she relented meekly.
The Captain assisted Alex to his unmarked silver Cadillac, outfitted with the very latest in police technology. Jack was obviously proud of his wheels. He looked at her carefully and said, "Would it be better if I called an ambulance?"
"Heavens, no. If anybody knew I was out here at a voodoo meeting, I'd get fired - again. Twice in one day is more than I can handle. I'll be okay." In truth, Alex's shoulder was killing her, and she was feeling woozy and afraid she might vomit. She couldn't wait to get to the emergency department.
"Jack, who was that man who assaulted me? He had a killer grip around my neck. Think he was trying to strangle me?" Alex barely recognized the sound of her own voice, it was so scratchy.
"I don't know. I don't know if my men caught up with him or not. He was a big SOB and strong as hell. The man's a physical monster. Do you remember anything else about him?"
"No, not really. I think he was white and had a ponytail and I think I'm going to pass out." Alex stopped talking.
When the captain looked over at her, he noticed that she was sweating profusely and had passed out. He checked her pulse and it was racing. She's going into shock. I got to get her there fast. He pulled his siren out and sped towards CCMC. Damn her, he thought. Just like a dumb woman but, of course, he had to admire her spunk, even if what she had done was stupid.
The care at CCMC in the emergency department was prompt. There were no other patients. Her shoulder was broken, separated actually. It was after 4:00 a.m. when Francoise dropped Alex off at her house. He walked her to the door and made her a pot of tea. He even wait
ed at the bedroom door until she was in bed.
"Jack," she murmured quietly. "Are there any messages on my voice mail or my cell?"
"Nope, not a one. That's good news. CCMC must be quiet tonight."
"Of course it is. We were just there. Yes, that's good. But you know Captain, I haven't heard from Mitch today. That's unusual." Alex drifted off to sleep.
Before Jack Francoise left Alex's home, he looked around and was impressed at the beauty and elegance of the furnishings. He called her office and left Bridgett a voice mail message, saying Alex would check in at noon. He left Alex a note telling her he had called Bridgett. He also called the station and arranged for a unit to sit outside her apartment for the rest of the night. The ponytailed stranger could come after her again, a recurring thought that concerned Jack. He racked his brain to figure out why the ponytail was after Alex.
On the way home, his heart thudded with fear with what had almost happened. Francoise had eyed Alex earlier in the evening, and had almost missed her abduction by the stranger. I'd like to know who that bastard is and how he fits into this puzzle. It's a shame the bastard got away from my men. Francoise was frustrated and scared as he drove through the cool, New Orleans night. Who in the hell was the huge SOB with the ponytail?
Chapter 19
Alex awakened at eleven in the morning to a furious pounding on her door. As she staggered out of bed, pain seared through her arm and shoulder. She gritted her teeth while attempting to put on her robe. The pounding continued until she opened the door. Robert stood in the alcove.
His face flooded with relief as he saw her. He pulled her into his arms and hugged her.
"You're crushing my shoulder. It hurts bad enough without you squeezing me to death," Alex attempted to joke while trying to hide her pain, but felt she was unsuccessful.
"I've been worried about you. I saw Francoise several hours ago, and he told me what happened. Called you, but there wasn't an answer so I decided to just come over here. How're you feeling?"
