Voodoo Queens of New Orleans - Vol. II | In Progress

Chapter Twelve: The High Priestess

LISA

It was happening. Something was brewing on the horizon, but I just couldn't figure out what.

Intuition was a powerful tool—a tool that, ironically, I didn't know how to manifest completely at the time. In my gut, I knew something was wrong. Well, everything was wrong. Look around, Lisa? You're subject to a caged living quarter with dozens of women whom you've never met but they seem to know of you. You were almost Russell Van Doren's unwilling conquest. All of these things were wrong, but this feeling was different.

Of course, I was being stubborn; I was upset at my spirit guide for being silent this whole time. So, even if she was trying to show me something, my ego pushed her away.

I laid on the wet ground on a wool blanket, staring at the wood ceiling behind steel bars. I had my own cell while the girls shared with each other. This wasn't preferential treatment, but rather a punishment; they didn't want my influence rubbing off on them. My stunt with Russell Van Doren in his study, Sylvia thought, would inspire the other girls to be defiant; if the Child of an Unholy Union can say no to the leader of the Council, why couldn't the other thralls?

There was a loud moaning sound coming from the opposite side of the docking area. The wooden gate began to rise, the murky waters parting way for the boat that was coming in. It was morning time, the sun's rays reflecting gloomily on the water's surface. Did I get any sleep? Lethargy wasn't hitting me as it should have been, but then again, it was a long night. There was no concept of time in this place, it seemed.

In the boat coming in were a group of women, sacks over their heads, their bodies still. They had on clothes similar to what I was wearing—a black pair of trousers with a black jacket, similar to the attire the members of The Council would wear. But when they docked, the men, two white vampires, escorted them out of the boat and through one of the exits. The door opened, artificial light pouring into the area, then it closed behind the last woman in line to leave. The girls watched them go, then turned their heads down to the ground, playing with the grass at their feet or humming songs.

With whatever energy I had left, I pushed myself up off the ground and crawled closer to the steel bars separating me from them. They were on the other side of the water way, now staring at me. No one looked familiar. In fact, there were other women missing. It was day time; what business would they have at Maison Blanche? They could have been dead, or somewhere wandering the bayou. I didn't know how this system worked—if we were allowed to wander around. I didn't know how anything functioned.

When the wooden gate finally drew down, bringing us back into this familiar darkness, I gestured over to them with a wave. Their eyes, bright and seemingly from some other realm, stared into mine with a look that was hard to read.

"Hey," I whispered to them. "Where are they taking those girls?"

"Shh!" A woman, around the same age as me but with older looking eyes put a finger to her lips. "Keep your voice down! You don't want them to hear you!"

There was a part of me that didn't care if they heard me or not. But this wasn't just about me anymore. My actions had consequences for more than just myself.

So, I complied. I nodded, kept my mouth shut, sat back down on the ground with no fuss. They knew I was scared. They looked at me sympathetically, knowing what it all felt like. I wondered if they were upset at me—the night that I found them, I had given them some false hope that I would go and get help, only for them to find me in the same position that they were in.