They walked for a few minutes as darkness and the creepy sounds of the swamp surrounded them. Every now and then, Scott’s breath would puff across the back of Ted’s neck, and he’d relax. Nice, but odd.
She stopped, and Ted nearly ran her over.
“We’re here,” she announced.
Something big slipped into the water on his left, and Ted shivered.
“Just a gator,” Scott said, perhaps trying to reassure him. It wasn’t working.
“Right. You Cajuns are nuts.”
“Mais oui, cher.” Scott’s mother nodded. “That’s what makes us so powerful.” She winked at Ted, and he couldn’t help but grin. Princess, huh? Voodoo queen, maybe.
She wasn’t painted, and there wasn’t a chicken in sight, or drums pounding, so whatever she had planned wasn’t going to be like in the movies.
A fallen log rested on the ground near the water, and in front of it, a small dirt clearing. He shone the light around it, looking for snakes and gators.
“The gators don’t like the light.” Scott chuckled. “But if you shine it out on the water, you might see their eyes. They reflect the light.”
Ted played the light over the darkness and jumped as half a dozen points of light winked under the beam of his flashlight. “Damn! They’re everywhere? Is this safe?” Right about now he wished he’d brought his gun.
“Oh, they won’t come near us.” Mrs. Dupree had kneeled by the log, placed the candle with a picture of the Virgin Mary on it on top, and lit it. A soft glow illuminated a small area around the log.
“Where should I start digging?” Scott motioned with the shovel.
She turned and looked around. “Right about here.” She pointed to a small mound of earth. “Not too deep.”
“Hold the flashlight for me, Ted.” Ted angled it at the ground, and Scott put the blade of the shovel in the dirt and pushed with his foot. It sunk easily into the soft clay. He tossed the first load of earth to the side. And the next.
On the third, he struck pay dirt. “Got it.”
“Good. Dig it up and put it in the sack.” She held the pillowcase open.
Ted stared as Scott brought up the stiff, maggot-covered carcass of a cat on the blade of the shovel, or at least it looked like it was once a cat. Ted nearly puked and grabbed the tail of his shirt to hold over his nose. It had been a few years since he’d been at a crime scene.
“Merde, Maman, this stinks.” Scott cursed a little more, then dumped it in the sack. She closed it, spun it around to close it off, and then knotted it like she did this all the time. The smell lessened.
“Now, underneath, find the pouch.”
Ted leaned over to look in the hole. “A pouch?”
“That’s the gris-gris. Scott’s hair and a few things of his.”
“What things?” Scott frowned. “And where the hell did you get my hair?”
“Your brush, last time I visited you.”
Scott leaned on the shovel. “You took my hair, what? Six months ago? You’ve been planning this since then?”
“Hell, boy, you weren’t doing a damn thing about finding a mate; someone had to do something,” she snarled at him.
Ted snickered. “It’s almost as bad as if she’d pimped you out on Match.com.”
“You, shut up.” Scott pointed at Ted.
“And it worked.” She cackled. “About time, too. I used up the last of your hair on this one.”
“How many of these did you do?” Ted shone the light around the clearing. It raked over a mound, then another, and another.
“Four months. Each time on the full moon, right at midnight.”
“Just like my dreams,” Ted whispered, then stared at the old lady. “Holy shit.”
“Now, this isn’t the place for swearing.”
“No, Mom,” Scott didn’t hold back on sarcasm, “It’s the place for voodoo and dead cats.”
“Hush.” She waved at him. “Keep digging.”
He dug once more and found the fabric pouch. “Here it is.”
“Good. Give it to me. We have to open it up and burn what’s in it.”
“Good grief.” Scott exhaled. “I can’t believe I’m doing this.”
“I can’t believe I’m in the middle of a swamp with a werewolf and his voodoo mama,” Ted added. Scott shot him a look, and Ted grinned back.
She took the pouch off the shovel, opened it, and brought it over to the candle. After dumping it on the ground, she picked through it.
“Swore I had some nail clippings,” she muttered.
“Eww.” Ted groaned. “Toes or fingers?”
“What does it matter,” Scott barked. “Look, let’s get this over with. It’s nearly midnight.”
Ted rolled his eyes, and Scott’s mom winked at him.
“Here they are.” She hunkered over the little pile of debris. “Toes.” She held up a big long one.
“Mom!” Scott choked.
Ted snorted trying to hold back his laughter. God, this would be funny if it wasn’t so damned crazy.
She separated the heap into smaller piles and then got out her rosary and kneeled in front of the little makeshift altar.
“Hail Mary,” she started praying. Ted didn’t know whether to join her or not. She didn’t say, and Scott just stood there watching, so he did the same.
She finished the prayer, then picked up a pile of stuff in her fingers and sprinkled it over the candle. The flame flared as hair ignited and burned in a flash, filling the air with an acrid odor that made Ted’s nose itch.
He held his breath.
She added something else, and the candle fluttered again.
When the last of the piles had been burned, she blew out the candle and sat back on her heels. Ted exhaled.
“Damn, my feet are swollen.”
“Is that it?” Scott asked.
“No, we have to get rid of the dead cat.”
“How do we do that?” Ted asked. She’d put out the candle. What other weird ceremony would this be?
“Like this.” She got to her feet, picked up the pillowcase, untied it, and holding on to the ends of it, flung it toward the water. Ted followed with the flashlight as the corpse flew out, arcing through the air. It landed with a huge splash in the dark water.
Ted exhaled. So much for ceremonies.
In the darkness, from farther in the swamp, larger splashes echoed.
“Gators,” she explained. “They feed on dead animals.”
“Perfect. Just perfect.” Ted sighed. Could this get any stranger? No, wait, he didn’t want to know, because, with his luck, it would.