Knight of Wands

Prologue: The Tarot Reading

Vanessa Meadows stopped at the foot of the steps leading to the rickety front porch of Madam Rue's Voodoo Emporium. How she'd expected the shop to look, she couldn't say. She only knew she hadn't envisioned the broken-down converted house in front of her. The once white paint on the clapboards was dingy and peeling, the shabby shutters were askew, and a dangerous-looking snarl of electrical wires crisscrossed the front of the house. Taking a breath to summon her courage, she climbed the stairs and stepped carefully across the precarious porch boards. She wanted her tarot cards read and, according to Beau Armstrong, the paranormal investigator she now worked for, the medium at this particular shop was one of the best in New Orleans.

Bells jangled as Vanessa pushed through the front door. Inside, the pungent scent of incense and herbs punched her in the nose. What struck her eyes was no more heartening than the shop's ramshackle exterior. Small and cramped, the space was dimly lit and jammed to the rafters with a hodgepodge of masks, candles, statues, jewelry, wax figures, skulls, and little bowls filled with all sorts of weird and creepy whatnots.

Vanessa spent a few minutes perusing the curious inventory before heading to the glass counter supporting circular displays of little pouches of different colors dangling from chords. She turned the rack and fondled a few of the talismans as she read their tags. The one to attract love was gritty, the one to draw money was lumpy, and the one to protect against evil spirits contained what felt like tiny bones.

A mixed-race salesclerk with long bleached dreadlocks and a disc in her earlobe came over. "Can I be of assistance?"

Vanessa smiled. "What are these called?"

"Gris-gris or ju-ju," the clerk answered. "They're worn to attract good or ward off evil."

Vanessa believed in divination, astrology, psychic powers, and supernatural phenomena, but knew very little about voodoo. "What's in them?"

"All sorts of consecrated objects and herbs."

Her answer was too vague to satisfy Vanessa's naturally inquisitive mind. Removing the gris-gris to protect against evil spirits from the rack, she held it out to the woman. "What specifically is in this one?"

Taking the talisman from Vanessa's hand, the saleswoman took a moment to study and sniff the pouch before offering an answer. "Herbs, oils, stones, small bones, hair, fingernail clippings, and pieces of cloth soaked in sweat—all blessed by Madam Rue, the owner of the shop. In case you don't know, she's a highly respected Voodouan priestess."

Vanessa might have found this all too bizarre if she hadn't grown up in San Francisco, which was just as weird, but in a different way. She'd moved to New Orleans two weeks ago to take a job as a paranormal investigator—a career she'd dreamed of pursuing since her first encounter with a ghost. She was eight at the time, and the spirit who appeared to her had been the beloved grandmother who'd looked after her when her mom was working.

Her parents had divorced when Vanessa was a baby and, after her grandma died, she became a latchkey kid. When she was eighteen, her mom, who battled bouts of severe depression throughout Vanessa's childhood, jumped off the Golden Gate Bridge. She left no note and, to her daughter's great disappointment, her ghost never visited.

Dubious about the gris-gris, Vanessa returned the necklace to its place on the rack. "I've come to have my cards read. Are you the medium?"

"No. You want Crystal, who you'll find back there." The clerk gestured toward the back of the store. "Through the curtain displaying Our Lady of Prompt Succor."

Vanessa thanked her and moved toward the rear of the cluttered shop in search of the patron Madonna of New Orleans. Finding the curtain, she stepped through into a small room that was less cluttered but no less funky than the rest of the shop. A Voodouan altar stood against the rear walls. The glass enclosed candles illuminating the assortment of objects thereon lent the space an eerie, ethereal feel. A round table stood in the center of the room. A pair of old chairs faced each other across the gold-stamped black cloth covering the table.