Leo banged into the house throwing his bag behind the door and headed to the kitchen to look for something to eat. He was ravenous; this latest growth spurt was fucking with his metabolism. It was like he was Dennis the Menace crossed with Garfield he felt so out of sync with himself. Luckily it didn’t affect his coordination otherwise he would be completely fucked. He stuck his head in the empty fridge, waiting to hear any sound in the apartment that would indicate his mother was home but the silence was as thick as ever. Since there was nothing to eat in the fridge and he was sure they were out of canned goods he turned around and left the apartment, crossing the street to The Rusty Nail to see if Jon would fix him a burger maybe.
Jon did that sometimes and half the time, he didn’t even make Leo pay for it. He was a great guy as shady bar owners went; but he wasn’t running a charity. Sometimes he asked Leo to hang out at the bar and ‘talk’ to his patrons. In other words flirt outrageously and make them buy more beer. Leo’s curious charm seemed to work equally well on men and women and Jon wasn’t above taking advantage of it. Not like he had any problem singing for his supper. And it was just talking after all….
“Leo my man, how’s tricks?” Jon greeted him as he came up to the bar. The man knew well that Leo was only fifteen but he wasn’t really sweating it. It wasn’t like the law was likely to visit any time soon.
“My kingdom for a burger brother man”, Leo replied with a smile. Jon was not immune to Leo’s charms either.
“Coming up”, he said placing the order with the kitchen. His bar might be dingy but the kitchen was clean. Jon ate there after all, he expected the food to be good. Leo watched the patrons at the bar; there was a pool table at the other end with some old timers playing a game. He wondered if he could hustle them for some cash; they didn’t look familiar which probably meant they didn’t know him and how well he played. They didn’t look exactly flush with cash but looks could be deceiving. Maybe they were a couple of truckers just passing through. Those guys tended to be thirsty for any action they could get. They weren’t common in a small town like Le Marais but they weren’t unheard of... Leo swung off his stool and sauntered over, watching them play intently. One of them kept casting glances at him like he wanted a piece; but he wasn’t sure which team Leo played for. Leo stuck out his hip, just enough to give a taste, not enough for invitation. It distracted the guy enough that he was off his game. Leo straightened up and moved in for the kill;
“Fancy a game?” he asked smirking at both men.
The one who’d been checking him out looked up, “Aren’t you a bit young to be hangin’ in a bar pretty boy?” he asked.
Leo tossed his dark hair out of his face, his piercing grey eyes holding the old man’s; he shrugged, “I won’t tell if you won’t”, he said.
The old man smiled at him as if he really could not help himself. Leo stuck his hand out, “I’m Leo Devereux”, he said.
The old guy stuck out his hand too, “Trevor McKinney”, he said.
“Nice to meet you Trevor”, Leo said shaking his hand. His eyes cut to the other guy who was studiously ignoring him. He held out his hand to be shaken, “And you are…?” he asked.
The second guy looked up and met Leo’s eyes. That was his mistake, “Phil Carter”, he mumbled sticking his hand out briefly to make contact with Leo’s and then taking it back like he’d been burned.
Leo smiled at them and nodded his head, “Trevor? Phil? Fancy a game?” he asked again.
“Sure why not?” Trevor said.
“Say... twenty a game?” Leo proposed.
“Son if you is too young to be in a bar, you is definitely too young to gamble”, Trevor said looking up and down Leo’s five foot eleven frame like he maybe wanted to eat him alive.
Leo searched his pockets, looking for cash to put down. He was sure Charlotte had slipped him a twenty at lunch time to pay for his food... he hadn’t used it because Miles paid for his lunch so... ah, there it was.
He put down the twenty and stared at both men, challenge in his eyes, “You scared?” he asked. It was one thing to refuse to play with him because he was too young, it was too much to expect to turn away from an accusation of being yeller. Trevor stepped forward, “Rack ‘em”, he said with a glare.
Leo made enough to pay for his burger and go home with a hundred dollars in his pocket. It was a good evening all in all. Except that his chemistry homework wasn’t done; neither was calculus. He was too tired for his brain to make head or tails of what he was supposed to be doing though so he resolved to copy Ashley’s work the next day. She was the brightest in their little passé; and conscientious about keeping up with school. She didn’t fit in with Charlotte and the rest of her mean girls but she liked to be close to Miles. Leo had not seen a torch like that being carried for anyone since Rhett Butler set eyes on Scarlett O’Hara. Except frankly, he didn’t give a damn. Leo snickered thinking about telling Miles that he was Scarlett... he’d probably get a kick out of it; Miles was strange like that. But... Leo loved him anyway - best friends always got a pass.
He was just getting into bed when he heard his mother stagger into the house. By the sounds of it, she was blind drunk. He lunged forward to turn the key in the lock so she couldn’t come in to his room. Leo did not have the energy for her drunken shenanigans tonight. He switched off the light so she would think he was asleep or out and sat quietly on the bed, waiting for her to pass out. The sound of the TV came on; the theme song for Moonlighting! and it was the final episode too damnit! He could hear Maddie talking about having a kitchen she’d never cooked in... Goddamn fucking drunk mother... now he would miss the final episode and he’d been looking forward to it. Leo flopped back on the bed in a huff; he had the worst luck of anyone he’d ever known.
He fell asleep without meaning to and when he woke up light was filtering through the narrow space between his window and the brick wall of the building next door. He never got the full benefit of daylight in his room because of it, but he was rarely in his room anyway so…
He ventured out cautiously, wondering if his mother had passed out in front of the TV again; but the living room was empty. Leo heaved a sigh of relief, rooting in the cupboard for the cereal he knew he’d stowed in there two days ago after he’d swiped it from Charlotte’s kitchen. He’d have to eat it dry; there was no milk to be had for love or money in the house.
As he was sitting down to eat he heard the doorbell ring downstairs on the front door. At this time of the day, it could only be Miles. Leo jumped up and went to answer it. They lived above his uncle’s Alligator Shoppe, rent free in return for his mother manning the till. She wasn’t a great administrator, but she was Gregory Evans’ only sister. As a result he felt an obligation to look out for her. Especially when her no-good husband and Leo’s father hauled ass and left them high and dry. Leo worked at the Alligator Ranch during the summer holidays. He looked forward to it if only because it meant regular meals and some spending money in his pocket.
He opened the door to a smiling Miles who held up a brown paper bag with a triumphant grin; Leo knew that smell anywhere… Donuts from Mrs Jean's bakery. He peered in the bag, seeing the donut box and a fragrant cup of coffee! The wave of gratitude he felt toward Miles could not be articulated in words. He darted a glance at him and then turned on the stairs, “Come in”, he said.
Miles followed him upstairs where Leo asked why there was only one cup and Miles told him he’d already eaten so Leo could go crazy on the rest. Leo nodded his head and tucked in; they discussed homework and the fact that Leo hadn’t done it yet. Miles offered to write them up for him while he ate and Leo shrugged as if to say, “As you like…” There was a lump in his throat, he didn’t know why it was there. He did know that sometimes he thought that Miles was the only thing keeping him alive.
Mya looked at the blank paper in front of her; she was supposed to write an essay about herself and why she felt she was the right fit for University of Louisiana school of Chemistry. She thought about what her life was like; the libation they poured out to the ancestors every morning before breakfast, the altar dedicated to Papa Legba in the attic that her grandmother kept well supplied with offerings, the garden in the back where she grew herbs, some medicinal, some for cooking, some for both... her little boat where she went fishing over the weekend to supply them with food. Was she supposed to write about all these things or invent a suitably apple pie all-American existence? Her mother had gone to college and so had her father. But she and her grandmother didn’t talk about them - there was nothing of her mother’s anywhere in the house she could find so she suspected that looking for help in that corner was a dead end. Pun (maybe) not intended.
Unfortunately this wasn’t a problem she could bring up with her teachers although Mrs. Argent had volunteered to help her with her applications. Maybe she could ask her some general questions and see how it went from there. Mya sighed, getting up to see if she could snag some of the chocolate cake whose smell had been wafting all over the house since she came home. She lived by a simple policy, “When in doubt, eat.”
She swiped chocolate cake from the tin and poured herself some milk and then went back to staring at the paper. Nothing occurred to her even after stuffing her face so she shrugged, gave up and went to bed. Tomorrow was another day.
The swirling mist was blinding… not just because it obscured her vision, but it also stung her eyes. Furthermore it smelled… evil; like the aftermath of a great conflagration in the bayou. She’d seen one or two of those when lightning had struck a tree and set it on fire… The combination of swampy smells and burned wood was an assault on the nostrils. That’s how the mist smelled. Losing sight and smell and taste disoriented her so much that she didn’t know which way was the right way to go. Not that she even knew where she was or how she got here or what she was doing here. She stepped carefully forward, not able to see the ground and her foot bumped on something solid. It was a narrow thing but sturdy. It didn’t budge even when she pushed her foot against it to see if it would. Reaching her hands out slowly she tried to feel her way forward, past this obstacle.
Her hands closed on another narrow solid piece of horizontal something. She found that she could curl her fingers around it… it must be some sort of bar, or barrier. She stepped forward and looked down at her hands trying to see what she was holding. She was startled to see a crib… with a baby in it. She peered at it noting the piercing grey eyes and a full head of curly brown hair. She suspected, from its size, that it was newborn or close to it. The thought flashed through her mind that she’d seen nothing so beautiful ever. Weirdly enough the baby seemed able to hold her gaze, its eyes looking eerily aware. She studied it; it couldn’t be more than three months old. Did intelligence show in babies’ eyes that quick? The baby opened its mouth, and she tensed herself to hear him cry.
“What took you so long?” it said.
Mya woke up with a startled cry.
Matia rowed slowly down the bayou, taking her time. The Ageless One was never up before noon anyway. And the day was less humid than it usually was. A slight breeze caressed her face, cooling her heated brow warmed by the effort of rowing. An alligator seemed to study her; eyes peeping from the water’s surface like a pair of beady... eyes. She ignored it though - it stayed unmoving on the opposite bank and she guessed it had already eaten. Besides, alligators would know better than to come near this pirogue; it was warded against water predators and capsizing. Nannane Maie as she was known by a select few; or Matia Andrewes, was a witch of renowned repute throughout Southern Louisiana. It was a quiet life she led; avoiding prejudice and censure by keeping to herself. Unlike most witches that peppered the bayou, Matia dealt only with white magic. She called on Papa Legba to smile upon her efforts like most witches she knew, and she had an altar where we she prayed to the loa and beseeched him with song to carry her messages to the underworld where the ancestors dwelt. She made sure that his red and black altar was well supplied with all of his favourite things. In return for her devotion, he granted her prayers.
The grey wolf was at the shore, waiting for her to bank. She had been feeling increasingly restless and that had prompted her to make this impromptu visit to the Ageless One... still, it seemed she was expected.
“Mama”, she murmured softly, confident that the wolf could hear her even with the wind blowing the other way.
The wolf turned and trotted away and Matia tied her pirogue to a nearby tree and followed slowly. She was familiar with the route and didn’t feel the need to keep the wolf in sight. However she didn’t let it get completely out of sight in the wooded swamp; there was a reason that the wolf always came; and it wasn’t to be a guide dog.
They came to a halt at a clearing so thickly surrounded by trees that they created a kind of wall, blocking out everything. The wolf disappeared as Matia stepped into the circle of stool shaped stones. The only light was from the massive fire burning in the midst of the stones and Matia imagined that she could see figures dancing in the flames. She dropped her offering next to the statue of Papa Legba that towered over the flames - a bar of chocolate - chanting a greeting as she did so;
I praise the mysteries and power of Eshu!
You are the messenger of Olodumare, the Orisha and the Ancestors
You are the owner of the four directions:
North, South, East and West
You are the keeper of the Ashe' of the Orisha
You are the guardian of the gates of fortune
You are the Lord of flexibility
You are the Lord of choice, chance and change!
She sang softly, her voice blending with the song of the trees above her. As the song came to an end, she looked up to see a short, yellow skinned woman with long grey dreadlocks regarding her from the edge of the clearing. She was barefoot and dressed in a grey shift dress that blended well with her hair. Her hands were clasped in front of her as she smiled at Matia.
“Nannane”, she said softly.
“Mama Ruth”, Matia replied.
“We have much to discuss”, the Ageless One said.
“Indeed?” Matia inquired. Perhaps it had been Mama Ruth that sent the restiveness.
“You feel the stirring do you not?” Mama Ruth asked.
Matia thought about it... was that what had her all tetchy and on edge?
“What is stirring?” she asked Mama Ruth.
The Ageless One merely smiled, “Things are waking up that have slept for millennia; I feel it in my bones. Do you not Nannane?” she asked.
“I feel something”, Matia replied.
“Indeed Nannane. Go home, keep watch. We shall speak again”, Mama Ruth said. Matia blinked. And the Ageless One was gone... so was the wolf.
Mya woke up and knew immediately that the house was empty. She didn’t know how she knew that; the aroma of coffee was wafting up the stairs in temptingly tantalising tendrils of addiction so she knew her grandmother was up and had made breakfast. The tangy aroma of cinnamon pancakes was wafted behind the coffee. Nevertheless, she knew she was alone. Or as alone as a house this old and with so much history could be. She knew that most of the creaking and groaning she heard were just the old wood settling… well she knew that most of the time; but sometimes she wondered if it wasn’t more than that. There had been times recently when she was sure that some…thing else was near. She got up and padded to the bathroom, relieved to find that her grandmother had switched on the boiler whenever it was that she’d gotten up and the water was piping hot. It was still very early and a light mist coated the bayou. Damp tendrils of cold seeped between the slats of the window to nip at her heels - the only part of her body not enveloped in flannel. She got in the shower and let the water pound on her for ten minutes before exiting to tramp wetly downstairs in her robe. She felt like she could really use that cup of coffee. Okay well she always felt like she could use a cup of coffee; what with the blank white mass of paper waiting impatiently for her brilliant exposition on what an excellent addition she would be to UL sitting accusingly empty on the table. And the prospect of Teddy The Bear maybe possibly somehow making out with her and finally satisfying her curiosity on what it felt like to be kissed by a boy. Madonna seemed to think it was great. Mya was an empirical animal; she liked to have personal experience to draw on rather than rely on hearsay.
Coffee cup in hand, she ran back up to her room to dig into the back of her closet, looking for her jeans. She was sure she’d put them in there at some point. They were old and bell bottomed. She’d gotten them cheap at the flea market and they made her legs look long and her butt look round. So who cared if they were thirty years out of date? The sixties rocked and so did she. She drew them on, one leg at a time, smiling at the yellow dragon motif over the pocket. In all honesty the motif was why she’d chosen this particular pair. The dragon was soo badass; at least in her humble opinion. She rummaged in the closet, looking for a clean shirt quickly realising that it was time to do laundry. A frown marred her forehead as she sighed – she hated doing laundry. If only her grandma would show her a cleaning spell or something so she didn’t have to. Anytime she tried to suggest that using magic to expedite housework was about being efficient though, she was given ‘The Look’ and grammy acted like she hadn’t spoken.
There was a splash outside, and she shuffled over to the window to see who might be coming in from the bayou or if it was just an alligator. The alligator… the one which seemed to like to keep her company as she gardened next to the river. She suspected it was one of the tame ones from over at the Evans’ alligator farm. It had probably wandered far from home and had now adopted Mya as the alligator’s new guardian. She mostly ignored it, not wanting to encourage its friendliness; not that it seemed even the slightest bit discouraged…
It was actually her grandmother mooring Mya’s boat on their little dock. Mya wondered where she’d been and what she’d been up to so early in the morning. Obviously it wasn’t fishing because her arms were empty…
“Hey grandma”, she said as they converged at the bottom of the staircase; Mya coming from upstairs and her grandmother from outside, “What’s shakin?”
Matia Andrewes smiled at her granddaughter fondly, “Young people and your crazy expressions. What does that even mean?” she asked.
“Aww, don’t think you can fool me grammy, I know you know all the current lingo; after all you speak to more ‘young people’ than I do,", there was maybe a touch of chagrin in Mya’s voice but it was overshadowed by the fondness.
“Have you had breakfast?” Matia asked taking a left on that conversation and heading on to more pleasant topics.
“I was just about to murder your coffee and pancakes,", Mya declared.
“Oh dear”, her grandmother replied looking pseudo concerned, “are you really sure that’s necessary?”
Mya punched her lightly in the arm and skipped off to the kitchen to eat her breakfast. She was suddenly famished.
“Where did you go?” she asked once her mouth was stuffed with pancake.
Matia shrugged, “I had to see Mama Ruth”, she said.
Mya didn’t inquire further; Mama Ruth was an even more powerful witch than her grandmother she knew that. She was also maybe slightly afraid of Mama Ruth and her weirdly sharp teeth and long grey dreadlocks. There was something just not… right about her.
Mya finished her breakfast and gathered her books. She had a walk to school so she didn’t really have time to linger.
“Bye Grams. See you later”, she called as she left the house.
The problem with long quiet walks through the tall grass that lined the road from their house to the town of Le Marais was that it gave her plenty of time to think. And her mind kept returning to that dream and what the hell…?
She wondered if she should have told her grandmother about it; or if she was making a huge fuss over nothing. She had plenty of strange dreams. Why just last night she’d dreamt that her mother appeared on her boat while she was fishing and they had a long conversation about seventies disco of all things. Not that she had anything in particular against seventies disco, but it was just so random. If her long dead mother really appeared to her Mya guessed that how people partied in the previous but one decade would not come up in their list of Things to Discuss.
Malia Andrewes had died when Mya was only five years old and her father had followed soon after. She knew little about them other than that they had loved each other deeply and that they were both witches descended from long lines of witches. Her father had also been a talented musician in the style of Robert Johnson. Mya still had his guitar enshrined in the below stairs room where she kept what few relics she had of his. During one memorable occasion - in which her grandmother drank too much of the home-made wine she brewed in the basement - she’d gotten a little glimpse of who her parents had been.. The basement was really a room in the centre of the earth as far as Mya could tell; it was at the bottom of a steep flight of stairs which went from brick to clay about half way down. It branched into a network of tunnels that were closed off mostly. Mya was forbidden to explore and she was generally an obedient child. In it, Matia kept all the dangerous ingredients. The ones Mya wasn’t allowed to touch on pain of severe pain. She also brewed her wine down there and on the occasion of what would have been Malia’s thirty eighth birthday, she’d sampled too much of it. They did not mark her mother’s birthday normally except with silences where usually there were words. That day was different; Matia had spoken about her daughter. How she loved to laugh, how much she would delight in the songs that her husband composed for her. How she would blush and jump about in delight. Mya smiled to think of it but couldn’t relate to feeling like that about anyone. At least not anyone in this town with their bigotry and small mindedness. Perhaps Teddy the bear would change that. Hopefully soon.