Butcher of the Bayou

Part 13

I needed answers, and I needed them fast. But where to start?

As I approached Papa Shango's shack, a sense of urgency gripped me. If anyone could shed light on the mysteries surrounding my family, it was him. With a deep breath, I pushed open the creaky door and stepped inside.

"Cher, what brings you back so soon?" he asked, he said with concern.

I wasted no time in explaining everything that had transpired with Detective Cooper, from his probing questions about my father to his ominous insinuations about my mother's disappearance. Papa Shango listened intently, his expression unreadable.

When I had finished speaking, there was a long moment of silence as Papa Shango pondered my words, his brow furrowed in deep thought. Finally, he spoke, his voice low and measured. "Fleur, there are some secrets that are better left buried," he said cryptically. "But if you seek the truth, you must be prepared for what you might uncover."

I nodded, a sense of determination burning within me. "I need to know, " I replied, my voice steady despite the uncertainty swirling inside me. "I need to find out what happened to my mother."

Papa Shango's expression softened as he began to speak, his voice carrying the weight of years of wisdom and experience. "Your father, cher, was a complex man," he began, his eyes distant as he delved into the memories of the past. "He was drawn to the mysteries of the bayou, like so many before him. But the bayou has a way of swallowing up those who dare to tread too close to its secrets."

I wanted to tell him to skip all the cryptic words and tell me what I needed to know. But I knew better than to get on his bad side. One look around this room with all the voodoo and animal hearts made me bite my tongue.

"He was a fisherman. " Papa Shango continued. "But he was also a dreamer, always searching for something more. When he left Cypress all those years ago, it was as if he vanished into thin air, leaving behind nothing but questions and speculation."

As I sat across from Papa Shango in his dimly lit shack, the air heavy with the scent of incense and the soft murmur of the bayou outside, I pressed him for more details about my father.

"You know more I know you do. Please tell me."

Papa Shango leaned back in his creaky wooden chair, his weathered face bathed in the warm glow of the candlelight. "Your father, cher, he was a man of many secrets," he began, his voice low and gravelly. "He had a way about him like he was always searching for something just out of reach. There was a darkness in him, a restlessness that he could never quite shake. Much like you."

My heart clenched at the mention of darkness, a chill creeping down my spine as I imagined what secrets my father might have been hiding.

"And the spirits? What do they say?" I hedge, hoping he would tell me more.

"It's hard to say, cher," he replied solemnly. "The spirits hold their secrets tight like a lover unwilling to let go."

"But surely, they must know something," I persisted, a sense of urgency creeping into my voice. "If anyone could shed light on my father's disappearance, it would be the spirits of the bayou."

Papa Shango's expression grew somber, his gaze distant as if he were communing with unseen forces. "The spirits speak in riddles, cher," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. "They offer glimpses of the past and whispers of the future, but deciphering their messages is no easy task. But I will continue to listen, cher," Papa Shango continued, his voice soaked with determination. "I will call upon the spirits and seek their guidance. Perhaps they will reveal something of value, something that will lead you closer to the truth."

With a heavy heart, I thanked Papa Shango for his efforts. But as I stepped out into the cool night air, his weathered hand gently grasped my arm. "Stay away from the darkness, cher". "There are shadows that hunger for your soul, and once they have you in their grasp, there may be no escape."

The bayou was a place of beauty and mystery, but it was also a place of danger and darkness, where secrets lurked beneath the surface like hidden predators waiting to pounce.

With a final nod of understanding, Papa Shango released his grip on my arm, allowing me to step out into the night.