The Seer Renee (4 page)

The next day,
when I left the shop at lunchtime to do some grocery shopping, Hector was
standing outside. When he saw me, he backed up against the wall and raised his
hands as if to keep me away.

"Hello,
Hector. Why are you looking so pale? Are you still sick?" I thought he
would be wary of me, but this seemed excessive.

"Kweku
said—" He sputtered and tried to press closer to the building. I
think he expected to be struck dead. I understood now. He had paid Kweku to
curse me for what I did to him. Perception… he thought I cursed him, so he had
someone curse me. But obviously, I was stronger than Kweku. I almost laughed.

"Hector,
walk with me," I said with a small smile. Very slowly he inched away from
the wall but kept his distance. "Next to me, Hector. I won't bite."

I started
walking slowly and eventually he caught up with me but continued to remain a
couple of feet away.

"Hector,
what did you tell the Locos about our little disagreement?" I thought that
was nicely put. After several seconds, he answered in a whisper although there
was no one close to us.

"I
haven't said anything. They are beginning to whisper behind my back."

"I have
a solution that will benefit both of us. Tell your brothers that you've been
suffering from pain all over your body for months. It had gotten so bad you
couldn't sleep. You decided to ask me if I had any drugs that could help."
I paused to make sure he was following the story. When he nodded, I continued.
"I gave you some herbs, which made you violently sick. You thought I had
cursed you, so you went to Kweku. Now you realize you were wrong. The herbs
purged you of the sickness, and you feel great. Us walking together will
confirm you and I aren't fighting. You also realize that Bokor Kweku's magic
isn't as great as Mambo Renee's."

Hector
stopped and stared at me for several minutes. Finally, he smiled. "Yes,
Mambo Renee. That is exactly what happened. Thank you," he said and gave a
small bob of his head before walking off. I hoped Hector would take my
solution. I didn't need any more trouble.

* * *

Things
returned to normal over the next week. I should have enjoyed it, but I kept
expecting something to happen. Mid-week an elderly man, somewhere in his
fifties, entered the shop and came directly to me rather than looking around.
He looked to be a local.

"Are you
Mambo Renee?" His face was brown and craggy from long days in the sun, and
his voice was raspy. I nodded.

"Oatha
tells me that you're good at telling the future. Would you do one for me?"

"Of
course. Would tonight be all right? If not, we can arrange for another
day."

"I'm
free tonight."

"Either seven
or eight."

"Seven
would be good."

I pulled out
my appointment book and looked up at him with my pen poised over the page.

"Oh,
Samuel. Thank you, Mambo," he said, while scanning the shop. He walked
around for a few minutes, then left without a word. I had conflicting emotions
about fortunetelling. I love doing them, but I couldn't really help my clients
too much without attracting unwanted attention from the unscrupulous, as Granny
had. Yet, what was the purpose of seeing the future if I couldn't help those in
need? It was very frustrating. I decided to try to help in small ways, which
could build me a reputation as a psychic rather than a seer. I planned to
develop guidelines that would keep me from exposing the true extent of my gift.

* * *

Samuel showed
ten minutes early, but I let him in anyway and got him settled at the table.
For some reason he looked nervous like someone in a doctor's office waiting for
the results of some test.

"Relax,
Samuel. I don't bite, and this doesn't hurt. Is there something you particularly
want to know or are concerned about?"

"Yes,
Mambo Renee. My sister is in the hospital for an operation on her heart. She
needs the operation, but it's a risky procedure. She could die or need a heart
transplant if it isn't successful."

I hated this
kind of scenario. Who wanted to hear a loved one was going to die. One came to
a fortuneteller to hear good news. And, I could only see through the person at
the table; therefore, I had to interpret his or her actions relative to the other
person. Making it more complicated, I had to couch it in vague terms or get a
reputation I didn't want.

"Samuel,
place your hands on the table," I asked as I sat down. When he did, I placed
my hands over his. He flinched but didn't move his hands. I watched as his life
over the next month and a half scrolled before my eyes. His sister lived and
appeared well judging from his visits with her while in the hospital and at her
home afterward. However, Samuel was going to be in a terrible accident which
would leave him crippled.
I desperately
needed to develop a set of guidelines—soon.

"Samuel,
both you and your sister have a dark cloud of sickness hanging over you. I see
your sister's cloud leaving with the operation. But you must seek help or face dire
consequences."

"Who
should I seek help from, Mambo? You?"

"Tell me
how you have been feeling lately," I said. A fake would have made up some
illness and then charged him for herbs he didn't need.

"Oh,
nothing much. A few headaches, a little dizziness sometimes, and I've been
feeling nausea a lot. I think I've been too worried about my sister. Now that
you said she'll be all right, it will probably go away." He smiled like I
had just solved all his problems including the black cloud I had told him I had
seen. I reached up and held his face between my hands. As I suspected, his
pupils were dilated.

"Samuel,
have you had a head injury recently?"

"Yeah, a
couple of weeks ago. We hit a small storm, and the gulf was a bit rough. I
slipped, pulling in the net. and was thrown against the rail. I hit it headfirst.
Lucky I've got a thick head." He tapped his head with a closed fist for effect.

"I can't
help you, Samuel. You have a head injury which needs attention. It may not be
serious, but you need it looked at. Promise me you won't drive for any reason
until a doctor says it's all right. Promise me, Samuel." I put steel into
my voice.

"Yes, Mambo.
I won't drive until you tell me… I mean the doctor."

I reached out
and grabbed his hands. Again, I watched the next few weeks unravel. This time
he went to a doctor and didn't drive for the next month. His future had changed
because he had made up his mind to take my advice. It was somewhat ironic. This
session would prevent a terrible accident, yet the only way to prove I could
see the future was for him to ignore my advice. The scenario sounded much like
all the other fortunetellers.

* * *

Two days
later, Oatha visited my shop. She seemed very pleased with herself.

"Samuel
was very impressed with you, Mambo Renee. I told him he would be. He thanked me
many times for suggesting you. He said he had scheduled an appointment with a
doctor and promised he wouldn't drive before he talked to you again."

"I'm
glad. I believe everything will work out well for him."
Certainly better than if he hadn't.

"I've
talked Samuel into attending your celebrations and learn more about Vodou. He
liked the idea of you being available for counsel and medical treatment."

She had
become a one-woman crusader for Mambo Renee. As of today, she had recruited
three of the ten members in my congregation. I felt pretty good by the end of
the day. My fortunetelling clients were growing as well as my congregation, and
my shop was showing a modest profit. My gut still ached when I thought about Granny,
but I was doing my best to move on as she would have wished. I was ready to
celebrate her life rather than mourn her death.

I closed
early and wandered aimlessly down Bourbon Street enjoying being out, watching
the people, visiting with other shop owners, and talking with people I knew. As
I approached an alleyway, I heard someone pleading and crying. When I looked,
two older boys were pulling at a young girl. Without thinking, I shouted and
ran towards them. Suddenly, the girl jumped up and disappeared down the
alleyway. It had been a ruse, and it was too late to reverse course with the
two boys only a few feet from me. Their foreheads identified them as Locos.

"It's
the bitch that has Hector by the balls," the lead youth shouted as he
threw all his weight behind a right hand punch to my face. From years of Bagua
training, I automatically threw my right forearm up as I turned clockwise. That
let his punch whoosh harmlessly by my face. As I rotated, my left fist smashed into
his temple. His head jerked left while his body tried unsuccessfully to follow.
Like a wound up spring, my body uncoiled counter clockwise, and my right elbow
met his face at his jaw line. Something cracked as pain shot down my forearm
from the impact. He flew backward into the other boy.

"Well,
mumbo jumbo. We were each going to fuck you before we passed you around the
Locos, but Teo doesn't seem up to it, so I guess I'll have to do it twice."
He laughed as he took a knife from an ankle sheath, and his face turned into a
sneer. He was no longer a youth; he was a psychopath reeking of ugliness.
Master Jing had always said I should expect to get cut in a knife fight. The
key to winning was to accept that and concentrate on your attack. My attacker
was throwing his knife from hand to hand as he slowly inched towards me. I
wasn't a knife fighter, but that didn't seem like a good technique. What if you
dropped it...or... I focused on the throws, subconsciously timing the grab,
release, and time in the air. As the knife left his right hand, I moved. By the
time it hit his left hand my knee was waist high. And as the knife left his
hand, my foot drove towards his chest. I could see by his eyes what I was doing
had registered—a bit too late. My foot grazed the knife causing it to
spin away as my heel smashed into his solar plexus.

I'd been
kicked there several times over the years, and each time it felt like my lungs
had collapsed. He staggered back against the wall fighting for air, and I
kicked him in the groin. When he doubled over, I grabbed his head and drove it
into my knee. I could feel his nose cave in and blood gushed over my pants.
When I let go, he fell backward against the wall. In the silence of the alley, I
stood trembling for several minutes. I had been lucky.

I returned
home using as many back streets and shadows as I could find. My outfit would
have been perfect on Halloween as my shirt and pants were soaked with blood. Today
it probably would have brought out the SWAT team and got me arrested for
causing a riot.

At home, I
lay on the bed, trying to understand why two Locos had attacked me. I thought I
had made peace with Hector and therefore the Locos. And I doubted Hector could
send Locos after me without looking weak. Maybe those two were trying to show
Hector how weak he was, or maybe someone hired them. Kweku was certainly mad
enough at me to want revenge. Ken and Sheila would have hired professionals,
but I didn't see that they had a reason. Life had gotten very complicated. I
went to bed with a sore fist, elbow, knee, and a migraine headache.

* * *

The next two
days were slow. It appeared that the tourists had all gone home. The few who came
in the store mostly looked without buying. I answered the usual questions.

"Can you
do some kind of ceremony to curse someone?" a small gray-haired lady asked.
If I could have conjured a curse for her, I'd bet she would have been a regular
customer.

"No,
madam. Trying would be considered black magic. It would be comparable to paying
a criminal to do something bad to someone." I explained. Judging by the
look in her eyes, I think the idea appealed to her. She poked around the shop
for a while and then left. Then there was the short, elderly man with thinning
hair and round plump face.

"Miss,
are you a mumbo...priestess? Can you make...lov...attraction potions?" he
said in a whisper, while his eyes scanned the area. There were a few ladies in
the shop, but they were at the far end and busily talking about something on
the shelf with my custom necklaces.

"I can,
but you would be better off by being interested in the person and listening
rather than trying to impress her or him," I said and smiled. He gave me a
hard look.

"You
aren't going to make a lot of money with advice like that. I thought all you
people who have shops sell various potions and... Voodoo dolls and concoctions
for...whatever." He seemed almost mad. Probably at being told he was under
a misconception when he knew better. He was right. I could have sold him
something, pretending it would gain him everlasting love from every woman he
met. It wouldn't work, but it wouldn't matter because he'd be back whatever he
lived.

"That's
true, sir, but I sleep a lot better. I do make healing potions with natural
herbs and roots to correct or relieve a condition, or to slow or stop its
progression. Those do work."

"Are you
a doctor?" He sneered.