by Dan Foley
“The day we met, I saw something in your pocket.”
“That so?”
“Yes. I saw a pair of small, red eyes.”
“That so?” Mose said again, challenging Wolf to go on.
“Yes.”
“An’ what is it that you want to know?”
“What was it?” Wolf asked, hoping he hadn’t offended.
Mose thought for a minute before answering. “That be my ... familiar. That what most people call it, but he be more then that. He be my assistant, my friend. He do things for me.”
“Yes, but what is he, exactly?”
“Let’s see,” Mose said, and reached into his pocket. When he withdrew his hand, he was holding a large, hairless, red rat.
“That’s a ... rat,” Wolf said.
“Is it?” Mose asked. “What we say ‘bout seeing, boy?”
Wolf concentrated on the rat, blocking everything else out of his mind. Soon, all he saw was the rat sitting in Mose’s gnarled hand. Then, slowly, the rat started to change. The ears morphed into tiny horns, the tail dissolved, the front legs lengthened into arms and the eyes glowed fiery red. When the thing opened its mouth, Wolf saw twin fangs like those of a cottonmouth. It took all his willpower not to jerk away in horror.
The creature, whatever it was, sat on Mose’s hand staring a Wolf. “Ah, now you see him. No rat, he,” Mose said.
“What is he? He looks like a ... demon.”
“Some people call him that, too. But he no demon. He a part of me. I make him with my power. Every time I use my power, a little bit leak into him. He live inside me till he big enough, and strong enough, to come out. You making one just like him inside you. He be just a baby now, but you feel him inside you soon enough. Someday yours come out, too.”
Wolf shivered at the thought. “What does he do for you?”
“Many things. I can see what he see if I need to. Ghosts ain’t da only danger in da world. There be people who will want to use you, take your power. Some them gonna have familiars too. He can fight them. If he taste someone’s blood, he can always find them. His bite be poisonous. If he bite someone, they start to die a little bit at a time. Da dead part turn black and they lose control of it. When that happen, that part be yours to control. When they all da way dead, you can control them if you leave a little bit of your power in them. But you have to protect your assistant because he can be killed. If that happen, some of your power die with him. Put your hand out here, an’ I show you.”
Wolf cautiously held out his hand. Mose took it and pricked it with a needle.
“Hey,” Wolf said, and pulled back his hand.
“Squeeze a drop of blood out and offer it to him.”
Wolf did, and the creature stuck out its tongue and licked it.
“Now he always know where you are. He always tell me when you here.”
Wolf stayed with Mose the entire week. At the end of the seven days they had added a piece of river glass, a rooster’s comb and a gold ring to the bag that hung around Wolf’s neck.
“You almos’ ready to leave, boy, but I got one more thing for you before you go.”
“What’s that,” Wolf asked.
Mose pricked his finger and held it out to Wolf. “Taste this.”
Wolf looked at him in disgust, “Why?”
“So that assistant growing in you can always find me if he need to.”
Reluctantly, Wolf leaned forward and licked the blood from Mose’s finger.
6 – Going Home ... Again
On his last day in the Quarter, Wolf sat across from Mose sipping on a cup of chicory coffee. He was starting to develop a taste for it again after so many years of regular coffee. “Mose,” he asked, “I couldn’t see the ghost on the Hancock, and I couldn’t see any of the ghosts here in New Orleans until you showed me how, so why could I see Old Ben back in the bayou?”
“Because Old Ben, he a powerful haint. He been round a long time, an’ he have a powerful hate inside him. But that only part of the reason you see him. Da rest be da power in you, and because you knew the swamp good enough to see when something was wrong.”
Wolf chewed on that for a minute before asking, “Then why did it take so long for me to run into him? I’d been fishing and hunting gators in that swamp for years.”
“Because your power was growing. When it got strong enough, Ben was drawn to you. After that, he was going to hunt you any time you go in there.”
“What will happen when I go back?” Wolf asked.
“What you think goin’ to happen, boy? He goin’ to come after you again. You better be ready when he does.”
When Wolf walked through the streets of the Quarter he saw the dark underbelly of the city that had been hidden from him before his time with Mose. Ghosts either slipped away when they saw him, or stared at him with malignant eyes. Some of the living disturbed him more than the dead. The Quarter was a magnet for predators that preyed on tourists and the weak. After a week with Mose, they either fled when they saw him or challenged him with their eyes. None were foolish enough to approach him.
The Torino had been parked on Decatur Street for a week. Wolf expected to find it gone, or covered in tickets. It wasn’t, instead it looked like it had been untouched. No, that wasn’t right. It looked like it had been washed and polished while he was gone. Mose, he thought, as he put the key in the door to unlock it. Inside, the Torino felt hot and stuffy. I guess the old man can’t do everything, Wolf thought as he rolled down his window. He’d put the AC on after he had aired the car out.
When Wolf turned the key in the ignition, the 390 cubic inch V8 engine roared to life. The bright red Torino was not going to be at home in Bayou La Pointe, but Wolf didn’t care. He’d find himself an old pickup for everyday use and keep the Torino for fun. It was his pride and joy and he wasn’t about to part with it.
Old Ben and the ghosts he had faced in the Quarter filled Wolf’s mind during the drive to Grandmere’s. He saw two ghosts on his way home, one on the side of the road, the other in a small town just south of New Orleans. Both had stared at him with hungry eyes as he passed. By the time he reached Bayou La Pointe, Wolf had lost the cocky self-assurance he had felt when he left the Quarter. As he parked the Torino in front of Grandmere’s, Wolf was plagued by doubts of his ability to deal with Ben. They were doubts that could kill him. Maybe I left Mose too soon, he thought.
“Grandmere?” Wolf called as he entered her cabin.
“Out here, mon chere,” she called from the porch.
“So, you seen Mose?” she asked when he joined her.
“I saw him.”
“That old man teach you anything?”
Wolf took a deep breath and sighed before answering. “Yes.”
“And you back, anyways. You think you strong enough to face Old Ben?”
“I don’t know,” Wolf answered. “But I’m not running away again, so I guess I’m going to find out.”
“That old man give you anything to help you?”
Wolf fingered the gris-gris through his shirt. “Yes,” he answered, but didn’t offer to show it to her.
Grandmere knew what he had. “Good,” she nodded. “You keep that close. Don’t be showin’ it to people — an’ never take it off.”
“I know,” Wolf answered. Truth be told, he was not about to show anyone. It was a private thing.
“Now what you goin’ to do — go back in that bayou?”
“Not today,” Wolf answered. “Today I’m going to relax here on the porch and enjoy your company.”
“Hah,” Grandmere sniffed. “Enjoy my cookin’ you mean.”
“Well, that and a hot shower. I haven’t had one of those since I left here.”
Grandmere wrinkled her nose at him and sniffed. “I thought that was the swamp smellin’ that bad. You go take that shower now. I’m goin’ to get to fixing’ up some supper.”
Wolf started the shower and stripped off
his clothes as he waited for the water to heat up. He hesitated before reaching up to slip the leather strap that held the gris-gris over his head. This would be the first time he had taken it off since the day he had put it on. He was strangely disturbed at the thought of removing it.
“Melvin, what you doin’ in there?” Grandmere called, ripping Wolf out of wherever his mind had slipped off to. The room was filled with steam and he had no idea how long he had been standing there.
“Be out in a minute,” he called and finally stepped into the shower. He only took his eyes off the gris-gris when he had to rinse the shampoo from his hair. He didn’t feel comfortable until he was out of the shower and the talisman was once again hanging around his neck.
“There you is,” Grandmere said when Wolf joined her in the kitchen. “I was startin’ to think you was goin’ to be in there all day.”
“Sorry,” he mumbled, not wanting to tell her his mind had drifted away and he had no idea where it had gone.
“Supper be ready soon. Why don’t you have a seat on da porch? I’ll call you when it’s ready.”
Today the sky was clear. White clouds scudded over the swamp, their shadows chasing along behind them, turning the bayou into a patchwork of light and dark. Grandmere’s cabin sat on a small rise, high enough to allow him to see much of the bayou spread out in front of him. He strained to see Ben’s slough, but knew it wouldn’t appear until he was in the swamp itself.
“We goin’ to eat out here,” Grandemere told him as she carried two plates onto the porch and set them on the table where she often took her meals. “Come help carry things out.”
Once the table was set, Grandmere brought a plateful of fried catfish and a bowl of collard greens to the table. “There still some of that Dixie beer in da fridge, you want one of them?”
Wolf wanted to say yes. He could almost taste the slightly bitter bite of the first sip, but Mose’s warning held him back. No beer for you. No alcohol, ever again. It dulls your mind. That you cannot allow. You cannot fight them with alcohol in your blood.
“No, I don’t think so,” he answered.
Grandmere gave him a piercing look and nodded her agreement. “Good. You don’t want to be drinkin’ if you goin’ back in that bayou.”
Halfway through dinner she asked, “When you goin’ back out there?” By “out there” she meant the swamp, of course.
“After I make sure the boat is okay. Then I have to get a new motor; that may take a few days. I also need to get an old pickup. The Torino isn’t going to be any good for hauling gear or gators.”
Wolf was just taking a bite of catfish when Grandmere said, “That Charlotte Arquette was round here asking ‘bout you the other day. Guess she heard you was back.”
Wolf didn’t choke on the catfish, but it was a near thing. “She still single? I thought she’d be married by now.”
“She single ... now. She was married, but that didn’t last.”
“Really? She have any kids?”
“Nope,” Grandmere answered and gave him a serious look.
Wolf hesitated before asking his next question, “What’s she looking like these days?” He was hoping she wasn’t going to tell him she had put on a hundred pounds ... or something like that.
“I guess you get to see for you self tomorrow. She said she come back when you get home.”
“How does she know I’m home? I didn’t even know when I was coming back.”
“That fancy red car you driving tell everybody you back. Da whole town know you back by tomorrow.”
“He’s back,” Kathy Shea told Charlotte. “I saw that red Torino parked in front of his grandmere’s cabin.”
“When?” Charlotte asked.
“Just now. You going to drive over there to see him?”
“I can’t, I just started my shift. I don’t get off until 11:00. I can’t go over there then.”
“Call someone in. Tell them you’re sick or something,” Kathy told her.
“Yeah, right. Melvin shows up back in town and I get sick. Who’s going to believe that? I’ll drop by tomorrow to see him.”
“What if he’s gone again?” Kathy asked.
“Well, then he doesn’t want to see me. I stopped and saw his grandmere. I told her I’d come by and see him when he came back.”
“You think she’ll tell him you were there?”
“She said she would, so I hope so.”
The red Torino was still parked outside Melvin’s grandmere’s cabin when Charlotte stopped by the next day. She parked her 1962, Ford F150 pickup behind it. The difference between the two vehicles was a stark reminder that they had been living in different worlds since he left Bayou La Pointe. The Torino was new, bright and shiny — her second-hand pickup had 110,000 miles on it and every one of them showed in its faded paint and numerous dents. What am I doing here? He won’t want to see me.
She was ready to pull out and drive away when Melvin came out the door. Too late, he’s seen me. As he walked toward her, she gripped the steering wheel seeking the safe refuge of the familiar. She also realized she had to pee.
“Hello Charlotte, long time, no see,” he said when he reached her open window.
She was lost for words for a few seconds, then managed to say, “Hello, Melvin.” Hello Melvin? How stupid was that?
“You want to come in? We can catch up?” he offered.
“Sure,” she answered, managing to keep her voice from giving away how nervous she was.
She started to open her door, but Melvin beat her to it. When she slipped off the seat and stood beside him, he closed the door, turned to her and said, “Come here girl,” and wrapped his arms around her in a heart-stopping hug. His body was hard and he smelled like soap and shampoo. Visions of their weekend in New Orleans jumped into her head and she quickly stepped away from him.
“Sorry,” he said, letting her go and looking a bit embarrassed.
Sorry? Sorry? After seven years all he can say is sorry? Charlotte thought, and the emotions roiling around inside her boiled over and she punched him in the chest. She didn’t plan it, didn’t even know she was going to do it, but damn, it felt good.
The punch was a good one. She was almost as tall as him, so it came in at a good angle. Wolf staggered back, rubbing his chest. “What the hell was that for,” he said, and she could hear the shock in his voice. She might have just blown any chance of getting back together with him, but her temper was up and she didn’t care.
“For leaving without saying goodbye. For never coming home for seven years. For never writing or calling. That’s what for.” She didn’t add for breaking my heart.
Wolf was silent, and she was sure he was going to turn around and walk back into his grandmere’s cabin. Then he said, “That’s fair. I guess I deserved that. Do you want to come in, or is that all you came here for?”
“Of course I want to come in, you idiot,” She told him, and then strode past him and headed for the cabin.
Wolf was still rubbing his chest as he watched Charlotte stalk down the path to Grandmere’s front door. Damn, she still looks good, he thought as he admired her ass in the tight jeans she was wearing. Then he hurried to catch up to her. She was everything and a lot more than he remembered. Her dark hair, that she had worn in a bouffant style back in high school, now hung down past her shoulders. Her perpetually tanned skin, thanks to her Cajun heritage, seemed to glow. Her breasts had bounced a bit as she walked and he didn’t think she was wearing a bra. Probably did that just to show me what I walked out on.
Grandmere didn’t say a word when they walked in, but Wolf had no doubts that she had been watching their whole meeting. He could see the slight smile on her lips and the twinkle in her eye. It was obvious whose side she would take in any issues that might come up between him and Charlotte.
“Let’s go on the porch,” he told her, and led the way. At least there they might have a modicum of privacy. There were only two
chairs out there. They weren’t seated for more than a minute before Grandmere breezed in with two glasses and a pitcher of iced tea. She smiled at Charlotte and then gave Wolf a stern look before going back inside.
After Wolf poured them both a glass of tea, Charlotte looked him in the eye and said, “Well, are you going to tell me why you left like you did?”
Should I? Will she think I’m nuts, or just making up excuses? Better the truth than a lie if we’re going to get back together, he thought.
“All right, it’s going to sound crazy, but I swear it’s the truth.”
He waited for her to say something. When all she did was stare at him expectantly, he told her about his encounters with Old Ben. Then he waited for her to say something.
“A ghost? You left because of a ghost?”
“Yes.”
“It could be worse, I guess. At least it wasn’t another girl.”
Wolf was shocked at her response. “So, you believe me?”
“I didn’t say that,” Charlotte replied. “I just said at least it wasn’t another girl.”
“He telling you da truth, girl,” Grandmere said from inside the cabin. Wolf had been pretty sure she had stationed herself out of sight but well within hearing, so her butting in didn’t surprise him. Truth be told, he was glad she did.
“Come inside, we talk in here,” Grandmere told them from the living room.
There was enough room for the three of them to sit, but barely. Grandmere was already in the old easy chair, so Wolf and Charlotte had to sit side by side on the couch. Wolf was pretty sure Grandmere had planned it that way.
“That ghost he be talking ‘bout be Old Ben. He was a black man that lived in the bayou by hisself when my mother was a girl. A bunch of white men found his cabin and hung him. Then they burned his cabin. No reason for it — other then he was a black man living free in the swamp. They didn’t like that. They didn’t like that at all. Thing is, Old Ben, he cursed them men before he died. He said he’d come back an’ kill them all. He did too. But he didn’t stop there. His hate too big. He still out there, and he after Melvin now.”
