by Dan Foley
“You goin’ to talk to me girl, or you goin’ to follow me for da rest of your life?” Rose didn’t answer, instead, she turned and ran.
Fool, fool, fool, she told herself as she fled. You best stay away from that man. He nuthin’ but trouble.
The first time Rose saw a ghost was the day she got her first period. She had been having cramps for days. Then, one morning, she woke up with blood on her thighs and a stain on the sheets. Mama made her wash them in cold water. When she was done, Mama fussed over her and gave her twenty cents. “You a woman now. You be careful on them streets today. We see ‘bout getting you a job soon,” Mama told her, and then went to bed.
Rose took her fortune and headed straight to Café Du Monde for the coffee and beignets she had coveted forever. When she got there, the black man in the white suit was sitting outside and sipping on his own coffee. Rose froze when she saw him and almost turned around to leave, but the desire for the coffee and beignets was greater than her fear of the man.
Rose tried to ignore the black man as she drank her café au lait and ate her beignets, but every time she glanced over at him, he was staring back at her. She hoped he would leave before her, but when it seemed like he was going to stay as long as she did, she got up, turned her back on him, and left.
Walking through Jackson Square, Rose was determined not to look back to see if the black man was following her. Halfway through, the need to know if he was back there grew too great, and she shot a quick look over her shoulder. He was there, not twenty feet behind. Run, she thought, but stopped short when she saw the ghost.
Rose didn’t know the thing standing in her path was a ghost, but she knew it wasn’t alive. It couldn’t be. It was dressed in rags, ragged flesh hung from its left elbow where its forearm should have been. Its face was worse. The mouth hung open impossibly wide and she could see bone and teeth showing through the skin beneath its right eye. She froze when the nightmare lunged at her.
Rose felt a wave of cold wash over her just before the specter reached her and she knew she was going to die. Then the black man was there, driving the spirit back. The thing turned its attack on him, but the man drove it to its knees. Rose could hear it shrieking as it thrashed at the black man’s feet. When he uttered several words Rose could not make out, the creature slowly folded in upon itself until it was nothing but a pile of filthy rags. The screaming didn’t stop until the rags burst into flame.
“You ain’t safe here, girl. They can smell da power in your blood. You best come with me now,” the black man told her as she stared at the place the ghost had been. Then he took her elbow and led her back to Café Du Monde.
“Who are you?” Rose managed to ask when she was composed enough to speak.
“You can call me Mose,” he told her.
“What was that back there, an’ what did you do?”
“That was a ghost. There be a lot of them ‘round here. Now that you got your woman blood they can smell da power you got inside you. They all gonna want that power.”
“What power? I ain’t got no power,” she answered.
“Oh, you do,” he insisted. “Come with me an’ I tell you ‘bout it.”
“What ‘bout my Mama?” Rose asked.
“She don’t got da power, but she know ‘bout it. She know you might have it. She goin’ to be happy I found you,” Mose assured her.
Mama did know about the power and sent Rose to live with Mose so he could protect and teach her. He was able to teach her enough to protect herself from the less powerful ghosts, but it was obvious she was not made for life in the Quarter. She left when she was fifteen, traveling south to Bayou La Pointe. She had been there ever since.
4 – Mose
“Get up boy. You got to be on your way.”
Wolf rolled over, saw the early morning sun slanting through the window and knew it was way too early. “What time is it?”
“Time to go see Mose. Now get up out that bed and come have some breakfast. You got things to do.”
Wolf expected her to leave, but she stood next to the bed, hands on hips, waiting to make sure he didn’t roll over and go back to sleep. “Grandmere, I can’t get up with you standing there. I’m naked under this sheet.”
“It ain’t nothin’ I ain’t seen before, boy, but I’ll go if it gets you out that bed. Now get yourself up and come eat some breakfast.”
When Wolf walked into the kitchen the first thing he noticed was the old Felix-the-Cat clock on the wall, its tail still wagging and its eyes still moving back and forth. He grinned in spite of that fact that the hands showed the time as 6:15.
“Sit. Eat.” Grandmere ordered as she placed a plate of scrambled eggs, grits, and fried catfish on the table next to a cup of strong, black chicory coffee. The ever present bottle of hot sauce sat next to his plate. The catfish, the chicory and the smell of the bayou wafting in through the open windows let Wolf know he was finally home.
“So how do I find this Mose?” Wolf asked around a mouth full of grits.
“You don’t find him, he find you.”
“How’s this Mose even going to know I’m looking for him? I can’t just ride up to New Orleans and walk around the Quarter and expect someone I don’t know, who doesn’t know me, and doesn’t know I’m looking for him, to find me.”
“Don’t worry, mon chere ... Mose ... he find you.”
Wolf cursed himself for a fool all the way from his grandmere’s to New Orleans. Don’t worry ... he’ll find you ... right. I’m going to drive up there, walk around like a damn tourist all day, and then drive back with nothing to show for it. But, if it makes her happy, I’ll do it.
He got to the Quarter before ten and was able to find a place to park on Decatur Street, right across from Café Du Monde. Well, here goes nothing, he thought, as he got out and contemplated where to go and what to do next. But first, there was coffee waiting at the Café.
Wolf had only been to the Quarter once before. He, Benny DeVille, Charlotte Arquette, and Steph Berrand had driven up after the prom and stayed the weekend. He and Benny were supposed to share a room, and Charlotte and Steph were supposed to share a room, but it didn’t work out that way. He and Charlotte had spent Friday and Saturday night together. Then they were both on pins and needles until she got her period three weeks later. He shuddered to think how his life would have been different if she had gotten pregnant. He might have never left the Parrish and been miserable as hell not being able to venture into the bayou because of Old Ben.
I ought to look Charlotte up if she’s still around, he thought as he strolled across Jackson Square.
Wolf wandered through the Quarter for five hours. His path was chosen by whim and curiosity. He walked up Orleans to Bourbon, took a right and walked as far as Barracks and then took it to Chartres. He walked the length of the Quarter on Chartres to Canal and then right up to Burgundy.
The Quarter was much as he remembered it from his last visit. Artists still hung their work on the wrought-iron fence around Jackson Square. Flowers still overlooked the streets from second floor balconies. The faint smell of sewer still wafted up from manhole covers in the street. He stood and watched a caricature artist knock off a picture of a teen-aged girl with a tennis racquet in her hand that was half the size of her head. The woman worked fast and was ready for the girl’s brother in less than ten minutes. A juggler was performing in front of St. Louis Cathedral. Tourists were dropping coins and bills into the hat on the ground in front of him. Wolf added a buck to the bills and change already there.
He stopped once for a lunch of Dixie beer, andouille sausage and dirty rice. He peeked into the door of one of the tittie bars on Bourbon ... but couldn’t really see anything, and finally decided he had stayed long enough. That’s it. I’m going to grab a cup of coffee and some beignets for Grandmere at Café Du Monde and then head home.
The waiter had just set his coffee and beignets in front of him when an old black man in a white s
uit sat in the other chair at his table. Wolf was about to ask him what he was doing when the waiter set another cup of coffee and plate of beignets in front of the man. “Mose?” Wolf asked, not quite believing it was him.
The old man didn’t answer; instead he lifted the coffee to his lips, took a sip and nodded. Then he set the cup down, shook some powdered sugar on a beignet and took a bite. Wolf took a sip of his own coffee and waited for the man to speak. Instead, Mose reached across the table and grasped both of Wolf’s hands in his own. A spark seemed to pass between them, then Mose’s eyes turned completely black. It only lasted for a few seconds, but Wolf felt completely naked while it did.
Mose sat back and took another sip of his coffee before speaking. “You goin’ to take on Old Ben, you goin’ to need some help boy. You ain’t near as strong as you need to be.”
He sounds just like Grandmere, Wolf thought. “How do you …” Wolf managed to sputter, but Mose cut him off. “I know everythin’ ‘bout you boy. I know your grandmere. I knew your moma and your papa. I know Old Ben has his eye on you, and I know you think you man enough to beat that old ghost. But you ain’t, not yet.”
“I …”
“I know, you beat that ghost on that submarine, but that ghost was just a baby. Ben ... he a real old haint. He been round a long time. He killed lots a men. He kill you too, you go back in that bayou.”
Wolf was stunned at the words. “How do you know about that?”
Mose didn’t answer and Wolf sat in stunned silence as the old man sipped his coffee and powdered another beignet. Wolf still hadn’t eaten his, or finished his coffee, when Mose brushed some powdered sugar off the front of his coat, stood up, and pushed his chair back in. “You comin’ boy, or you just goin’ to sit there like a fool?”
Wolf didn’t have time to answer. Mose was already two tables away before Wolf could take out his wallet and drop a five and two ones on the table. He had to hustle to catch up to the old man.
Mose led him on a winding path through the Quarter. The man didn’t walk fast, it was more like a slow shuffle. Crowds of tourists and locals seemed to move out of his way and close in behind him without being aware they were doing it. When Mose finally stopped, they were standing in front of an intricately designed wrought iron gate on Royal. Mose reached out and gave the gate a gentle push. It swung open soundlessly. Wolf followed him through the gate into a long ally. When Wolf closed the gate behind them, he felt a slight tingle when he touched the iron. The gate made a loud screeching sound when it swung closed.
Mose led him through an ally that ran between two windowless brick walls. Wolf was shocked when it ended in lush garden courtyard complete with a fountain, cast iron furniture and copious amounts of greenery.
“You need to stay here one week,” Mose told him. “Then, maybe, you be ready for Old Ben.”
Wolf shook his head. “Stay here? For a week? I can’t do that.”
“Then you goin’ to die if you go back in that bayou. You ain’t ready.”
Wolf took a deep breath before answering. “Let me go home, tell my grandmere, and I’ll come back tomorrow.”
“I don’t think so. This your one chance, boy. Yes, or no? You leave this place now, you never goin’ to find it again. You never find me again.”
If it hadn’t been for the prospect of facing his grandmere, Wolf would have said no and left. Instead, he said, “Okay, one week.”
5 – A Week with Mose
“There’s power in your blood, boy, but that ain’t enough. Not for da things in that bayou.”
Wolf had no idea what Old Mose was talking about. “What do you mean, power in my blood?”
“Power. Some folks got it, some folks got a little of it, but most folks don’t got any. I got it, your grandmere got it, and you got it too. Power to see what other folk cain’t. Power to act where other folk won’t. Power for good — or evil. It’s all there, in your blood.”
“How do you know I have this power?”
“Cause I have da power ... and I know how to look for it. I can see it all round you. You shimmer. That shimmer makes you a magnet for all sorts of things — good luck, bad luck, ghosts, demons, other things in that bayou. That’s why Old Ben wants you. He wants the power that’s in your blood.”
“If I’ve got this power, and you’ve got this power, why don’t you shimmer?”
“Oh, I shimmer, you just don’t know how to look for it.”
“What if I don’t want this power?” Wolf protested.
Mose laughed at him and shook his head. “Boy, you got no choice. That power is in you. If you don’t learn to use it, some ghost or other creature goin’ to get inside you and take it.”
“And you’re going to teach me how to use this power in one week?”
Mose laughed. “Nobody can teach you how to use your power, you got do that for your self. I’m goin’ to start you on your road and make you a little gris-gris to take with you.”
Wolf knew what a gris-gris was. His grandmere had worn one around her neck on a leather thong for as long as he could remember. “My grandmere has one of those.”
“Of course she does. I made that for her a long time ago.”
Wolf wanted to ask what was in his grandmere’s gris-gris, but he knew it was a forbidden topic. He had asked her once and she had told him it was none of his business, and never to ask again. She said it was her luck, and if he knew what was inside it, her luck would be gone. Instead, he asked, “What will you put in mine?”
“Don’t know — we got to wait and see.”
As they talked, the light faded. Sounds from the Quarter drifted in, but they seemed faint and far away. Mose got up and left him sitting at the table. In a while he returned with a plate of meat and cheese. He set it in front of himself and took a piece of the cheese. The plate was just out of Wolf’s reach, and he didn’t think he should reach across the table to help himself from it. Besides, he was sure Mose would offer him some ... eventually. It never happened.
After Mose had eaten the last piece of meat on the plate, he pushed it over to Wolf’s side of the table. “If you want somethin’ boy, you got to speak up, or just take it — nobody goin’ to give you anythin’. Not here,” he said, sweeping his hand around to take in the courtyard. “Not out there,” he said, pointing to the ally that led to the street ... “and ‘specially not in that bayou. You think ‘bout that.” Then Mose got up and went back inside, leaving Wolf alone at the table.
As the sky darkened, the noise from the Quarter seemed to fade away. The silence of the courtyard seemed to talk to Wolf. Why you sittin’ there in the dark? Why you all alone? Come out. Leave that ‘ol man. He got nothin’ for you. Wolf hunkered down in his chair and ignored the voices. Eventually, he fell asleep where he was and the voices stopped.
“You still here, boy? Well, you best have some breakfast then,” Mose said as he set a plate of grits and eggs in front of Wolf. There was already a cup of steaming coffee there, too. Then the old man went back into his house without another word.
Wolf’s mouth actually watered when he saw the food. The eggs were scrambled and filled with grilled onions and peppers. The snow white grits were highlighted in the center by a yellow eye of melted butter. The first mouthful was like heaven.
Wolf was just finishing when Mose came back out carrying a large carafe. Without asking, he refilled Wolf’s cup and sat down in the same chair he had occupied the previous evening.
“Tell me ‘bout Old Ben, boy.”
Wolf looked into Mose’s eyes and nodded. “Alright, but I have a name you know.”
“What name be that, boy?” Mose asked.
“My friends call me Wolf,” Wolf answered.
Mose laughed. “I ain’t your friend, an’ you ain’t no wolf. You got to earn that name, an’ you ain’t. When you do, then I’ll call you Wolf. For now, I’ll call you boy.”
Wolf knew it wouldn’t do any good to argue, so he told Mose
about Old Ben.
Mose listened intently as Wolf recounted seeing the ghost in the slough, a slough he had never seen before. How Ben had risen up out of the water and floated toward him. How he had managed to spin the boat around and escape him.
“Now tell me da rest,” Mose said when Wolf paused in his narration.
“I went back into the bayou the next day. He appeared as soon as I was out of sight of Grandmere’s cabin. Every time I spun the boat around to get away, he’d be waiting around the next bend. Once, I actually drove the boat through his head and heard him scream. I finally managed to get away when I found Grandmere’s dock. I left and joined the Navy the next day.”
“Well, at least you ain’t all stupid,” Mose told him. “Now tell me ‘bout that other haint. Da one on that submarine of yours.”
“It was the ghost of a German sailor. He killed several of the crew before one guy, Dennis Menard, figured out how to fight him. When he attacked again, I fed his own fears back to him and drove him from the boat.”
“That be good, but that ain’t goin’ to be enough to drive Old Ben away. That goin’ to be a harder job, ain’t it?” Mose said, and glanced down at the pocket of the white coat he was wearing again today. Wolf looked down too, and, for just an instant, saw a pair of small, red eyes looking back at him.
Before he had a chance to say anything, Mose dropped a sack on the table. “Shake that sack up, then reach in there an’ pull out da first thing you touch.”
When Wolf shook the sack it sounded like it was full of sticks and stones. When he reached in, his hand wrapped around something hard and dry. He knew what it was before he even pulled it out of the sack. It was a gator tooth, a small one, but still a gator tooth.
