Ghost Town (The Ghost Files Book 6)

by Chanel Smith

We both nodded in agreement.

  “In a momen’ we gonna go back to dat altar an’ recite de word I gonna speak, hum?” He focused on each of us for a moment, saw us nod again and then continued. “Firs’, I gonna taught you what to pu’ in you memor, hum?”

  “Okay.” We both answered. I was a bit nervous, since I’d never been particularly good at memorizing things, but I was willing to give it a shot.

  “Here it be: ‘I now invoke de law o’ tree,’” he held up three fingers as he said it. ‘What once was loss return to me.’ You got dat? Ver’ simple, no?”

  It was simple, even I could memorize that.

  “You pu’ dat in you memor’ and you whisper it into da night when we floatin’ abou’ dat ol’ bayou, hum?” He smiled at each of us in turn. “Dem ol’ spirit dey catch wind o’ dos word and dey make demself appear from de thin air, hum?”

  We finished the last of our tea and sat the glasses down on the table in front of us. Prince John looked over at the altar and took note of the length of the incense sticks. “It about time I tink. Come on o’er to here.”

  We followed him to the front of the altar. He took up the chicken feather and fanned smoke over the doll three times and then stopped and looked at us. His eyes were straight and focused again. “Now you gonna say de word I recite, hum?”

  We again nodded our agreement.

  “Bound and binding; binding, bound.”

  We repeated the words after him.

  “See the sight; hear the sound.”

  Again, we repeated.

  “What was lost; now is found.”

  Again, we recited his words.

  “Bound and binding; binding, bound.”

  He fanned smoke over the doll three times more and I noticed that after the third pass, the incense stopped burning and the smoke ceased.

  “Now, I met de two o’ you ‘neath dat gran’ shade tree near da dock ‘bout da time Archibald come out fo’ da even, hum?”

  We thanked him for his hospitality and made our way out to the car that had sat waiting for us on the street out front.

  “You pu’ dem word in you memor’ an’ don’ forget,” he called after us. “I be ‘long in a bit, hum?”

  The sun had set while we were in the house, though there was the remnant of an orange glow on the horizon. No doubt he had not only timed the incense to burn out exactly when he did, but he had evidently timed it to synchronize with the setting of the sun as well.

  “So, what did you think?” Ellen asked once we were in the back of the car.

  “Not anything like what I was expecting, that’s for sure.”

  “I’m rather shocked, actually,” she replied.

  “Why are you shocked?”

  “You normally have some comment about how hokey something like that is or how it was just a bunch of hokum or some other derogatory thing. What was different this time?”

  “I don’t know, there’s just something very relaxing and trustworthy about the man. In fact...” It wasn’t often that I made major confessions to my wife, but I felt like what I’d experienced was worthy of such. “When he spoke to me about last night, I felt energized and at peace all of a sudden. I feel better than I have in a very long time.”

  She smiled at me. It was the smile that comes when a person is truly glad to hear that you are doing well. “You were okay with the altar, the incense and the words that we recited? No comments about that?”

  “Not a word. I’m ready to do this.” Given what I had gone through with the cottonmouth and the alligator, I was actually even surprised that I was so eager to head right back out into the bayou.

  Chapter Thirteen

  “Yes, I agree that things did go much more smoothly last night without the band. I appreciate that and was quite happy not to have my dishes being smashed and my terrified guests screaming as they ran to escape. However, I must remind you that tomorrow night, my client has booked Madame LaRue for a wedding party. There will be a band and it will be a loud band. If our spirit did not like the upbeat jazz music, he is not going to be happy with the dance music that is likely to be played then.” Mister LaBeaux had agreed to one more night without the jazz band, but he was letting us know that our deadline was nearly up.

  “We understand that, sir,” Ellen replied calmly.

  “Then you also understand that our activities here cannot be held hostage by the whims of this violent spirit. I can’t believe that I’m actually saying this, but if you can’t get him to leave, perhaps you can ask him to be a little bit more tolerant?”

  I could tell by the expression on Ellen’s face that she had choked back a response. I could almost guess what it was, because I’d had a similar one. How in the world were we going to convince a French ghost who had never even heard jazz when he was walking the earth physically, to tolerate a type of music that pissed him off? After the other choice comments that had raced through my mind immediately following that one, it was best that neither of us said a word.

  “We understand,” Ellen responded. “We’ll have things taken care of tonight and all will be well tomorrow night. I promise.”

  “General Renshaw said that you were true to your word and took care of his problem, so I am counting on the very same thing to happen here. Now, if you will excuse me, my guests are about to arrive and I need to make sure that everyone in the kitchen and dining rooms are ready. You are joining us for dinner?”

  “I wouldn’t miss it,” I blurted out.

  The compliment seemed to please him and he turned on his heel in order to stride off toward whatever tasks were awaiting him.

  “People really don’t get this, do they?” I asked Ellen after LaBeaux had left.

  “People in every aspect of the service industry put up with the very same thing from their clients. Though the client can’t take care of the problem themselves, they always take on that haughty attitude whenever their problem doesn’t instantly disappear, but you already know that.”

  We did dine on another of Madame LaRue’s four course dinners that evening. It was perhaps the best we’d had up to that point. Though I was once again forced to skip the dessert, I was filled up well by appetizers that included spicy shrimp rémoulade on molasses-buttered toast and baked oysters with bacon and leeks. That was followed by turtle soup and a salad of fresh greens and red onions that was topped with Creole French dressing, tasso, pecans and chopped, boiled eggs.

  Again, Ellen and I opted for separate main course meals; hers was a chicken breast served atop mashed potatoes and asparagus with a very rich lump crabmeat and tasso hollandaise sauce and mine was a charbroiled tenderloin that melted in my mouth and was accompanied by mashed potatoes and haricots verts with a béarnaise sauce that finished everything off nicely. Had we been able to opt for dessert, I’d had my eye on the chocolate crepes with a whipped cream cheese filling and fudge drizzled on top. In fact, the sight of them reminded me that I still hadn’t fulfilled my craving for chocolate pancakes for quite a while.

  Though the temptation was great, I knew that the extra baggage in my gust while on a ride in a jon boat on the bayou was not going to be very comfortable and I held myself back. I’d been eager enough earlier in the evening, but as the time began to draw near, I felt my nerves begin to kick in, not to the point of being a threat to my appetite for the best of Creole cooking, but enough to make a half-dozen or so butterflies begin to flitter around in my gut.

  Right on schedule, we arrived under the cypress tree beside the dock in time to see the soft glow of a lantern come gliding toward us across the small pond. Though it was overcast and we could see little more than soft shadows, we could hear every sound as though it were magnified in volume several times over. We heard the jon boat make contact with one of the pilings of the dock and then heard Prince John tying it off before the lantern began to make its way closer to us and the silhouette of the man, again dressed like a native son of the bayou with his broad-brimmed hat in place. He was quite the contrast in appearan
ce from what he had been only a few hours before.

  “It a good ting that I tink to bring de lantern an’ we do de find it spell. It pit’ black out in de bayou tis even’ with no moon to be find.”

  “I sure hope you know where we’re going.” I laughed softly.

  “Maybe dis de night I git loss foreve’, hum?” He chuckled softly in the darkness. “You ‘member dem word I teach you?”

  “I do,” Ellen and I said in unison.

  He chuckled again. “A’right, den you marry’t.”

  It took me a moment to catch the reference to our answering ‘I do’ in unison, though I heard a soft twitter from Ellen that told me that it hadn’t been lost on her.

  “After Mister Bordeaux come ‘long, den you two continue sayin’ dem word over an’ over into de night as we go ‘long, hum? I be sayin’ de utter ones dat we recite before. Could be we don’ need bot’, but is always best to do mo’ ‘stead less, hum?”

  “It is,” I agreed. Either the butterflies were beginning to increase in number or the rich sauces were beginning to stir up inside my gut, because I was suddenly beginning to get nervous again.

  “Could be dat Mister Fontaine got dat bride o’ Archibald hid up real good out der too, hum? Dem extra spell an’ mo’ foke whisperin’ dem help.”

  In that moment, I realized that Prince John was chattering while we stood there. Was it possible that the old voodoo priest was a bit nervous too? If he is nervous, maybe I should be nervous too.

  “Tranquil, Mister Drew,” he whispered, reading my thoughts.

  The butterflies were beginning to reach their peak when Archie, right on schedule, came floating across the lawn toward the boathouse. Seeing the light under the cypress tree, he was curious and came toward us, but he did not say a word. He looked us over with his sad eyes, wrinkled his brow a moment and then started to turn away. I wondered if he remembered us from the evening before or if spirits simply lived in whatever moment they were locked into.

  I was wondering if Ellen was going to speak to him and turned to look at her, just as she offered a greeting. “Bonsoir, Monsieur Bordeaux,” she said pleasantly.

  “Bonsoir, madame,” he returned and then resumed his stroll toward the boathouse.

  Though I’d seen it several times, I was still quite surprised when he pulled open the door that I knew for a fact was nailed shut and stepped inside. I wondered if the cottonmouth had any problems with the spirit invading his cozy little sleeping spot or if the snake was even there. The sudden thought of snakes led to another thought of alligators and I began to feel my heart thumping in my chest as we started across the dock and got into the jon boat.

  “Tranquil,” Prince John whispered. “Start in sayin’ dem word now. Softly to de night. De spirit don’ like to be yell to, an’ a night pit’ black like dis, de buzz o’ a fly win’ be like bearin’ down on de string o’ a fiddle.”

  We pushed off from the dock and followed along behind the forlorn figure of Archibald Bordeaux as he poled the flat-bottomed boat across the water and slipped between the cypress trees and into the channel beyond.

  “I now invoke the law of three. What once was lost, return to me.” I whispered the words into the night, barely louder than my own breathing and, I was pretty sure, softer than my thundering chest. It didn’t dawn on me that I was calling a lost spirit toward me in the bayou; had I taken a moment to consider that, I might have swam back to the dock, alligators or no.

  We poled along in the darkness behind Archie with nothing but the small radius that the lantern cast upon the water. Even the chirping frogs seemed to have lowered their volume for the night, though the splashes and other sounds from critters plopping into the water or those scurrying along the banks seemed to be magnified in the dense darkness. I nearly jumped out of my skin when Prince John spoke softly.

  “A’right.” He spoke in a stage whisper, but sounded like he was shouting. “We gonna leave off followin’ Mister Bordeaux, turn on de troll motor an’ go aroun’ dat rise o’ groun’, wit’ luck we fin’ Mister Bordeaux ‘long de utter side in loss lake. You go on an’ recite dem word now o’ maybe we loss him too, hum?”

  Chapter Fourteen

  “Maybe you gonna need to whisper dem word a bit loud now,” Prince John said, startling me once more as the sound of his voice penetrated through the fog that had settled down over Lost Lake. When we had gone around the rise using the trolling motor and arrived on the opposite side where I had fallen into the lake the night or early morning before, we caught a brief glimpse of Archie poling along across the lake before he disappeared into a thick fog that had settled over the broader expanse of the lake. As we poled into the fog where we had last caught sight of him, we had no idea whether we were behind him, beside him or in front of him. The lantern simply penetrated a couple of feet forward, but there was nothing to show for its illumination.

  “You don’t have a spell for lifting a fog?” I asked. He’d enjoyed a few little digs at me on occasion, so I figured it was my turn to get one in.

  “Dey lif’ de fog when dey is ready,” he replied.

  “They? They who?” I asked.

  “De spirit. Dey sometime pu’ a fog in de way to tess a man; see if he gonna have de resol’ to see a ting tru.” He explained it as if he was giving directions to the supermarket.

  How could he be so completely relaxed and convinced that we weren’t lost when for all I knew we were traveling in circles or simply sitting in the middle of the lake and turning slowly. I was beginning to wonder not only if we would be able to solve our case, but if we would ever find our way out of the bayou alive.

  I’d been completely focused on my own thoughts before I realized that other than occasionally overhearing her whispered incantation, Ellen had been completely silent throughout the evening. Had I been so seriously wrapped up in myself that I hadn’t even noticed her, or was I just used to her being quiet whenever she was in the zone and about to do her thing? I looked toward the bow of the boat. I could see her lips moving, but I could not hear a sound coming from them. “Are you okay, up there, Babe? You’ve been awfully quiet this evening.”

  “Just staying focused, Hon,” she replied.

  Though I’d witnessed Ellen’s intensity before, I was starting to freak out a bit.

  “Tranquil, Monty,” Prince John whispered. “Recite dem word an’ stay focus. Is de only way we fin’ him in dis.”

  We had gone along for only a few minutes longer before I heard a splash not far out in front of us. “What was that?”

  “Gator drop in. We close de shore.”

  It was only moments before I heard and felt the bottom of the boat scrape on the mud and exposed roots of the shoreline. At least that was proof that we weren’t sitting in the middle of the lake spinning in slow circles. I started to relax a bit, but then I realized that we had no idea whether to go to the right or to the left. We had no idea which way Archie had gone or even if he had simply passed through a rise and into another channel. As far as I was concerned we’d wasted another night.

  “How do we know which way to go?” I asked.

  “De spirit tell us pretty soon.” He waved a hand toward Ellen.

  I turned and looked at her and then back at him. “You mean, she…”

  “She guide us all de way cross dis lake,” he replied.

  “But how?” I looked at her again. She seemed like the same woman that I’d known for several years, just more subdued and sitting calmly in the bow of the boat.

  “Mister Drew, how long you be marry to dis woman?”

  “Eight years.”

  “An you be workin’ by her si’ fo’ des pass couple year investigate de spirit an’ such?”

  “Yes.” I wasn’t sure exactly why he was bringing those things up.

  “Den truss dat woman. She got a power gif’.”

  It was a gentle rebuke, but it was very clear; Prince John wasn’t one to trifle when it came to speaking the truth. He was right, of course, a
nd I knew it the instant he brought it to my attention. There were things that my wife did and had done which were well beyond my understanding, but in every single circumstance, she had done the right thing and it had gotten us through some very tough spots. I had absolutely no reason to doubt that she could guide us across a foggy lake and all over the bayou using her spiritual senses.

  “To the right,” she said almost at the same moment that I had made a decision to trust her.

  Did my trust in her make her senses more powerful? The thought had never crossed my mind before, but suddenly, it seemed logical that I might be able to add very powerful, positive energy that would strengthen her own. If that was true, then who could give her more strength than her own beloved. As the thought came to me, the fact that Archie’s spirit wandered out into the bayou to find his lost love must have been based on some belief that her trapped spirit was out there somewhere. Was that what drew him out into the bayou every night? I made up my mind to trust in Ellen’s gift and give it more strength, whether that belief helped or not.

  “De fog become less,” Prince John said.

  For a moment, I wasn’t sure if he was talking about the fog in my mind which had suddenly lifted or the actual physical fog on the lake. When you’re sitting in a jon boat between two people that were highly tuned in spiritually, it was hard to tell. I did, however, take note that the lantern light did seem to be reaching a greater distance out in front of us and it wasn’t long before there were only whisper thin clouds of mist passing along beside us and in front of us. Not long after that, we spied Archie again as he poled the boat into a cove at the edge of the lake.

  The cove narrowed into a thin channel that was packed with thick moss and wound around like a drunken man had laid out its path, at times nearly making a complete circle before it continued on to make another violent bend back in the other direction. Staying along behind the forlorn specter in the pirogue in front of us, we eventually came to another dead end. I was certain that Archie had led us into another place that he could pass through, but where we could not go. Prince John brought the boat to a stop by leaning heavily on the pole.