The trial had lasted six months. The papers had decried the use of public funds to provide police protection for the defendant who was clearly guilty despite the trickery of her attorney who produced documents—no doubt forged—to prove his client’s innocence. Loud journalistic protest greeted the acquittal verdict. Several jurors had anonymously confessed they thought the defendant guilty as sin,’ but insufficient evidence had been presented to convict. A few follow up articles announced the sale of the Alden Manse and evil Miss Thibodaux’s departure for places unknown.
The number of dissenting articles could be counted on one hand. The names associated with those meant nothing to Luc. By the end of four days, he was so weak from sustained pain he chose not to pursue further information. He let the curse draw him back to theOnly Loveand rested for one day before setting out again.
Grace buried her emotional wounds in frenetic activity, and he regretted leaving her alone. However, while knowing her past was helpful, he needed to understand the risks she faced atSweet Dreamseven more. Taken separately, she’d handled each incident—the fire, the workers searching her house, the night time intruders and all quite well. It did not seem as if she realized the events might be related. However, Luc knew what she did not, that he was the probable cause of all the intrusions. Someone, perhaps the same person or persons who had set the fire that murdered Grace’s parents, wanted the missing gris-gris. Whoever that was, he feared the villain would remove every obstacle, and Grace stood in the way. Exactly how powerful was the gris gris?
Luc had always believed it could control him. He’d lost it before he could be certain. Thus, he headed one moonless night for New Orleans. He drifted across roofs, descending to a narrow ally off Rue Richelieu. The noisome detritus in the alley intensified his headache. Finally, he found the purple and scarlet door to Mambo Ayezan’s home.
He stepped through the wall beside the door and found the mambo seated in an overstuffed chair. Tchotchkes, crystals, Voodoo emblems, candles at an altar, and bright colors decorated every surface. Small bleached bones dangled from satin ribbons strung along the ceiling. “I wondered when you would visit me,” she remarked, her gaze focused on some handwork. She paused long enough to point to a chair opposite hers. “Sit down, if you like.”
She was ensconced in a large upholstered chair, and pointed to a bare wooden stool to her right. Save for the colors her clothing appeared the same as the last time he saw her.
“Thank you.”
“You are not here for a social call.” The mambo spoke with a directness he appreciated.
“No.” He confirmed.
“I cannot tell you exactly who threatens Miz Thibodaux.” Mambo Ayezan said.
He shouldn’t be surprised that she knew his purpose. “What can you tell me?” Luc leaned forward.
“The evil that pursues your beloved is strong.”
He reared back, as if she’d struck him. “She is not my—”
Mambo Ayezan raised her head, one gray eyebrow lifted. “Do you want answers or not?”
“I’m sorry. Answers please.” He bowed his head briefly.
“As strong as the evil is, Miz Thibodaux’s protections are strong as well.”
“She is not Voodoo and may not…” He needed to warn the mambo of some new concerns.
“I lose patience with you monzanmimaudit. You know the power of the Loa, the holy spirits, the power of faith and suggestion, even false suggestion. You live the power of the blood curse. Yet, you only now begin to recognize that the curse is not upon you alone,” the old woman scolded.
Her statements—accusations—built one on another, and dread with them. He’d never felt so afraid as he did in that moment. Not even when Mawu Anaisa had drawn her blade in the captain’s quarters on his ship.“Grace? She is cursed too?”
“She was not named,” Mambo Ayezan’s tone was meant to soothe.
It failed.
“But you said…” Concern kept him trying to explain.
“Foolish, foolish man. I thought you smarter,zanmi. You want to know how powerful is the gris gris that Mawu made. It is as powerful as the love you will one day earn from a heartless woman. Remember that, my friend.”
“I will remember.” His words were affirmative, but what the hell did she mean? Luc couldn’t ask. She’d only shush him again.
Mambo Ayezan sighed. “I mean, that power resides in the strongest bond. Now, leave. I am tired, and you have been away from your ship too long.” She waved a hand in dismissal.
He found himself staring into the deep dark of the bayou just beyond the rail of theOnly Love.
If Mambo Ayezan was tired, he was bone weary. He should’ve rested more before going to see her. Had he been at his full strength, she might not have been able to dismiss him so easily. Nonetheless, she had. If he went back, she’d tell him nothing more—whether she could or not.
Chapter Twelve
Feb 02, 1912, Full Moon.
Sweet Dreams Plantation House
