The Seer Renee (9 page)

All week I had been worrying over
my upcoming Telling with Ellen Jeffery. It would be a relief if I could just
tell her who and what was going to happen. Well I didn't really know who, but I
knew he worked with her because I had seen him at work with her. Of course, I
couldn't without putting myself in jeopardy, especially with Ken and Sheila
snooping around.

One of the rings had arrived on
Tuesday and the second on Friday. I had been agonizing over what to put in them
all week. Finally, I decided using anything lethal would get us in more trouble
than it was worth—well almost. Some smart-ass district attorney might
decide the attacker was the victim and Jeffery the criminal, and me an accessory
before or after the fact. Or he might decide I was the criminal and Jeffery the
accessory. So I chose a diluted form of moonseeds, which should cause
paralysis. I still hadn't resolved what to tell her when I heard the knock at
the door and knew it was Jeffery before I opened it.

"Good evening, Ms. Jeffery.
Come in and have a seat. Would you like something to drink—tea, ginger
ale?" Personally, I needed a Long Island iced tea with a triple Zombie
chaser. Ellen looked like she had been on a week's bender, shadows under her
eyes, complexion pale, and no makeup or fingernail polish. A stark difference
to the woman I had first met a month ago.

"Tea would be lovely, thank
you...Mambo Renee," she said while her eyes darted around the room like
someone was hiding there.

"Please sit, and try to relax.
We're alone, and you're safe. Look around the shop while I make some tea, you
don't have to buy anything. Better yet, join me in the back." I went to
the front door and locked it, then waved for her to follow me into my living
area. That seemed to help a little. Before sitting, she surveyed the room.

"It's small but a very
comfortable room. A person's home says a lot about them. You're conservative,
well-read, honest, and a true mambo. What I mean to say is that you believe in
your religion and take it seriously." She gave me a small smile.
"Sorry, I can't help evaluating people. It comes in handy in my work. I'm
a marketing director."

"Yes, I do. It may appear a
strange religion more so because of the nonsense portrayed in the Voodoo movies
that have been made over the years and because our ceremonies are more animated
than most people are used to. But we believe in one God, pray, have saints
called Loa, and try to live our lives in accordance with our interpretation of
God's wishes." I put two glasses of sweet tea on the table along with slices
of lemon and sat. We sat in silence while we sipped our tea. I could tell she
wanted to start the session but dreaded it.

"Ms. Jeffery—"

"Call me Ellen...Renee."

"Ellen, put your hands on the table,
palms down. Here is as good a place as any," I said, clearing the table.
When she did, I placed mine over hers. I hadn't expected anything to change,
and it didn't, so I was left with the original problem. It would happen next
Friday night, and the attacker would first rape Ellen and then beat her to
death. I almost gagged while watching.

"What!" she shouted and
pulled her hand from under mine. She had gone almost white as the blood drained
from her face. She must have been watching my face or felt the tension in my
hands.

"Relax, Ellen. I believe your
stalker is going to get physical, soon. Please relax, I may have a solution if
it comes to pass." I rose and collected the two rings I had made for her
and sat, placing the rings on the table. Holding my hand out, I said, "See
this onyx ring?" When she nodded, I continued. "I wear this all the
time. If you look very closely, you will see a tiny hole in the middle. If I strike
something with it, a thin hypodermic needle comes out and delivers a dose of whatever
is inside." While I talked, she took my hand in hers and lowered her head
to examine the ring. When she nodded, I continued. "I had these two made
for you. Take the one you like. Both have a drug that will cause a temporary
paralysis."

"What do they cost?" The
look she gave me was suspicious. I couldn't blame her. A fake would use the
threat of danger to sell the ring and charge her triple what it cost.

"Nothing. I expect you to
return it to me the next time you see me. I'm loaning it to you as a precaution.
But, you must wear it day and night until we meet again—two weeks from
today. If you use it, I would ask you to hit the person in the head with
something to explain how you knocked him out. The police may not be receptive
to using poison."

"What did you see?" She
picked up the Zuni looking ring and examined it closely, running her finger
over the Sleeping Beauty turquoise.

"Trouble. Place your hands on
the table again, please."

She gave me a strange look but complied.
When I looked again, the man attacked her, ripped her clothes, and beat her to
the floor before she used the ring. When she did, it had the desired effect.

"I know this is a stressful
time for you. Maybe nothing will happen, but if it does, try to remember a
relaxed person thinks better than a stressed one and more likely to survive."

"You know something. Tell me!
You had those rings made especially for me... And you're not asking for
money."

"Trust me." I'd already
said too much, and telling her more might in fact cause more harm than good.
She studied me for a long time, clenching her hands with the ring against her
chest.

"This all sounds and looks
like an elaborate fake, but...what do I owe you?"

"Nothing. See me two weeks
from today to return my ring. If you are satisfied, you can pay me for this
session and the next. If not, you owe me nothing." If I saved her life,
that would be payment enough. That was far more important than the money. She
stood, put on the ring, mumbled "Thanks," and left in obvious
turmoil. I sat there trembling. I walked an extremely narrow path paved with
good, but evil lurked on one side and temptation on the other—the tantalizing
lure to play God.

Suddenly my arm began to burn, and
as I watch the symbol Nkontim—the rune for loyalty and readiness to serve—appeared.
I understood the message, loyalty to Vodou and a readiness to help regardless
of the danger. With that, my thoughts were no longer troubled. I had done what
I could to help. It would have been wrong not to regardless of the risk. As I
watched, a tattoo of a peacock, the symbol of integrity and the beauty that can
be achieved when we endeavor to better ourselves, slowly appeared. Granny had
said the ancient symbols and tattoos were gifts from the Loa and each gave you
some additional power. The message the Loa had given me, but I wondered what
new ability I might have gained.

Willis sat staring at the nineteen-inch
monitor screen. At present it was split into six boxes of equal size, but each
with a different background color: blue, brown, green, violet, orange, and
black. In the center of each was a yellow smiley-face with dark sunglasses.
When one spoke, the smiley-face's mouth moved to match the sounds. At present
the face in the blue box was speaking.

"Good evening, Mr. Willis. I
hope you have something good to report," the mechanical, bass-sounding
voice said.

"No, I'm afraid not." He
held up his hand before the speaker could interrupt. "My two operatives
have been unable to prove whether Eshe's granddaughter can see the future or
not. She's definitely very intelligent and capable of convincing people she can
see the future even if she can't. Conversely, she's equally capable of
pretending she can only see snap-shots of the future when she can see it
clearly." He took another drag on his cigar and blew a perfect smoke ring.

"We need to know within the
next three to six months at the latest," the face in the brown square said
in a stern, alto-sounding voice.

"Mr. Brown is right, Willis.
You didn't disappoint us last time. Eshe exceeded our expectations. We admit
the team that we sent in to persuade her to help us failed. We take responsibility
for that failure," the face in the blue square said.

"Rather spectacularly, I'd
say." Willis pointed his cigar at the screen. He continued before anyone
could comment. "The fifty million you are offering is more than enough
incentive, gentlemen and ladies if appropriate. I believe I sent my operatives
out with the wrong instructions, when I tasked them to find out if she had her grandmother’s
ability."

"Why?" several smiley
faces asked together. Willis smiled.

"Because they have wasted time
trying to determine if she's a fake. We must assume she is a seer. I should have
told them to prove it."

"Seems as though it's two sides
of the same coin. If you prove she's a fake you have your answer; otherwise, a seer
if she isn't," the face in the orange square said.

"It's the approach that makes
the difference. If she is a seer, then my operative gave her the advantage when
he asked for a telling. She now knows his future and who he has come in contact
with. Maybe even what he and his partner are planning. If they had assumed she
was a seer, they would never have gone near her." Willis sat back and let
the smiley faces digest what he had said.

"True," the face in the Black
square said. "Let us hope that wasn't a... What were your words?" The
smiley face actually frowned. "Oh, yes. A spectacular blunder that will
result in our failure. The team assigned to Eshe failed and were justly
rewarded." The tone of the voice made Willis pale. The smiley face in the
black box had made the options clear—rich or dead.

"A false start, not a blunder,
Mr. Black." With that, the screen went blank. Damn that team the committee
had assigned to assure Eshe's cooperation. He had been paid twenty-five million,
and everyone was happy. Now they had suckered him with an additional fifty
million if he could prove Renee had her grandmother's ability and ten if he
proved her a fake. He had foreseen the possibility that proving her a fake
could be considered failing.

* * *

Willis was surprised when Sheila
called him the next day.

"Mr. Willis, it's Sheila."

"Sheila, what can I do for
you."

"I think we made a
mistake."

"What kind of mistake?"

"If Renee is a seer, then
Ken's visit to her has alerted her to our presence and purpose. She will have
seen Ken's activities for many days, weeks, or even months from the time of his
fortunetelling session. He has to be terminated...from the project. Renee will
know everything he will be involved in."

"Have dinner with me tonight.
Say seven o'clock at
the
Windsor
Court Hotel, room number 1201." He hung up. He had been considering
terminating both Ken and Sheila, but Sheila was the right person to move to
plan B. She was cold-blooded and already acquainted with the problem. What
better person to prove Renee was a seer. He smiled and inhaled deeply from his
cigar—problem solved.

The next few days felt like months,
and I had to keep reminding myself what day it was while hoping I was wrong,
and the week had flown by. It hadn't. The customers were few, I had no fortunetelling
sessions, and none scheduled for the next three days. Given I had nothing to do
at night, I should have been out socializing and looking for a date, but I
wouldn't be good company and would turn off anyone worth keeping. The others
would persist no matter my mood. I even had trouble reading Granny's journals
and didn't even consider working on inventories or finances. So, I sat drinking
sweet tea and worrying about everything—Ellen, Ken and Sheila,
Locos—and even tried making up a few new ones which turned out easy in my
present mood.

It was close to closing when an
elderly man in a white suit, carrying a brown leather briefcase, entered the
store. He walked around the shop looking at each counter and shelf, and
occasionally picking up an item to examine closer. Slowly he made his way to my
counter.

"Can I help you with
anything," I asked, hoping he had lots of questions that would last hours
into the night. Of course, he didn't.

"I hope so. Are you Renee Mathur,
the owner of The House of Mambo Eshe?" he asked. His clean-shaven, narrow
face had a slight smile like he knew a secret I didn't and didn't plan on
telling me.

"Yes," I replied, not
sure what else to say. It was his turn.

"Are you interested in selling
your business? My employers are ready to make you an exceptionally nice offer,
well above what it's currently worth on the present market."

"No, I’m not interested in
selling."

"They are offering two million
dollars." He smiled like that settled the discussion. Couldn't honestly
blame him.

I stood there with my mouth open,
jaw working, but no sound. I doubt the building, even with its good location,
was worth more than four hundred thousand dollars. Two million was a lot of
money, enough to buy another place with room to build a small temple of my own.
Before my mind could come to grips with the consequences of selling my
grandmother's home, he continued. "The only condition is that you can't open
another Voodoo store or business or practice in the City of New Orleans."

"Thank you for the offer. It is
very generous, but I'm not interested." That was easy. It would have been
hard selling the home I grew up in, but I couldn't and wouldn't give up
practicing Vodou. The burning peacock on my arm reinforced my decision. I
almost laughed at the thought that the Loa agreed with me, but I did smile,
which turned his smile to a frown. He recovered quickly. Again, that funny
smile which said he had a secret I didn't know. It made me shudder.

"Yes, very generous. If you
change your mind, you can reach me at this number." He handed me a card
with the name Harold and a telephone number—strange—no last name or
business name. He nodded and left the store.

I laughed. I was hoping for
something to pass the time and distract me and that certainly qualified. Why
would anyone offer a million dollars for this building? It was too small for a
reasonable sized bar, nightclub or restaurant. Probably large enough for a jewelry
or other high-end merchandise shop, but if that were the case, why the
condition that I not practice Voodoo in the city. It couldn't be because of
competition since there were several other Voodoo shops in the immediate
vicinity. Rather than a diversion, it was quickly becoming another thing to
worry about.

Two more days passed in slow
motion, and I decided to visit Mambo Monique. Maybe she would have some
information about Harold or some idea as to why he'd want the property. When I
arrived, she looked to be getting ready to close for the day.

"Good evening, Renee. Come in,
child and I'll make you a cup of tea, and we can talk if you wish. You look
worried," she said as she closed and locked the door. She reached out and
took my hands in hers. "Come with me—"

I screamed in horror as I watched
Monique's life scroll before me in fast-forward and her shop exploded in fire
and engulfed her in flames. She looked to be screaming as her clothes became a
mass of flame. Then she fell onto the burning floor.

I fell to my knees, gagging, acid
rising in my throat until I threw up, again and again. Monique knelt holding me
around the shoulders. I cried, moaned, and tears streaked down my face, dripping
onto the mess on the floor.

"Poison? Have you eaten or drunk
anything recently?" she asked with a sense of urgency and concern in her
voice.

"No!" I shouted as the
scene replayed itself in slow motion. I saw the store window break, glass
flying inward around the room. A bottle with a flaming rag stuffed in its neck
hit the floor and shattered only a few feet from Monique. The liquid sprayed
onto her as it burst into flames. In an instant, her clothes were blazing, and
she was screaming as she tried to rip them off. But it didn't matter. By then,
the entire room was ablaze. She collapsed, and mercifully, the images stopped.

"Come, child." She lifted
me to my feet and helped carry me into the back room and laid me on her couch.

"Your couch, I'm..."
Covered in puke
I wanted to say, but my
throat was scorched raw, and I suddenly felt too weak to talk. She ignored me.

"Don't talk, child. Just lay
there and rest." She sat on the floor with her arm around me. I must have
mercifully fallen asleep because when I returned to consciousness the room was
bathed in gray shadows from the street lights and passing cars. Monique must
have sensed I had woken because she felt my head as she rose.

"Stay there and rest. I'll
make some hot tea with herbs to settle your stomach."

"I need to clean—"

"No, Renee. Clean yourself up
if you want. It may make you feel better. Go in my closet and get yourself something
to change into." She pointed towards an adjoining room with a
multi-colored cloth hanging in the doorway. I rose, feeling unsteady, and
slowly made my way to her small bathroom, stripped, and cleaned myself. My mind
felt dead. Then I walked into her bedroom and found a narrow closet and stood
staring at the articles hanging there, not sure what I was seeing or looking
for. I shook my head to clear it and tried to focus. Eventually, I selected a
green and orange muumuu, which went to my ankles, and returned to the living
room.

"Feel better?" she asked,
waving me to a chair next to a table where a cup of steaming tea sat. When I
looked around, the couch had been cleaned.

"I don't stink anymore. I'm
sorry about..."

"The floor and things can be
clean. It's you we must worry about. It does not appear you were poisoned, and
you don't look or feel feverish. Can you tell me what's wrong?" She wasn't
insisting, just asking if I wanted to talk about it. I did and I didn't. What
was I going to say? You're going to be burned to death. How do I know? I'm a seer,
which whoever is planning this will know when you're not. I felt the peacock
heating up.
Yes, I know
, I mentally
said to the Loa—if it wasn't just my over-active imagination. I couldn't
do anything, and Monique wasn’t going to buy into "I see a black cloud
over you on such-and-such a date, and you need to leave town" crap.

"I had a man come into my shop
a few days ago and offer to buy it for a million dollars." Maybe this
wasn't related to Ken and Sheila. I don't do fortunetelling for mambos, so how
would I know what would happen to her. And no one has threatened to hurt anyone
I know if I didn't cooperate.

"That's a lot of money. Would
you consider selling?"

"I don't think I could sell Granny's
home."

"And he had conditions,"
she said. When I nodded, she continued. "Yes, several of us have had
similar offers. I think a few of the fakes will accept, and others might,
except for the condition that they stop practicing Vodou. But that's not what
upset you." A statement, not a question. I needed time to think, although
it wasn’t going to change anything. I had to tell her something.

"No." That was all I
could manage, still struggling with the problem.

"They want the Voodoo people
gone from their city, and this is their first attempt. Some will leave, but the
real mambos and houngans are unlikely to leave. So threats will come next, and
then what you saw."

My head jerked up. She knew.

"I suspected you had inherited
or was given your grandmother's gift. Although we were extremely close friends,
Eshe never told me the exact nature of that gift, but I knew she could see into
the future with some clarity. You saw an attack on me. And judging from your
reaction, it wasn't nice." Her eyes were sad. I'd bet more for me than
her.

"Yes."

"Enough, drink your tea. You
need time to think about what you can or wish to tell me, and now is not the
time to make such a decision. I imagine it can wait a few days."

"Yes." I was numb. I had
to tell her something but what? She was right. I needed time to think, not only
about Monique but my life. "Thank you, Mambo Monique. I'm sorry, but you
are right. I do need time to think." I had reached a crossroad and must
choose a direction.

* * *

I didn't open for business for the
next two days. I spent the days cleaning my shop: taking items off the shelves,
washing, and rearranging them, taking inventory, and making gris-gris bags and
Voodoo dolls. In the evenings, I wandered the streets enjoying the sights,
sounds, and smells of the French Quarter where I had grown up and which I
loved. Later, I found myself near Jackson Square and spent hours in Saint Louis
Cathedral, sometimes praying and sometimes seeking the peace of a quiet mind free
of conflict.

The morning of the third day, I
opened the shop on time, not free of worry but resolved to meet my problems
head on. I believed in God and his messengers, the Loa, who had given me a gift
to use. So long as I lived, I would not abuse it by permitting it to be used to
commit acts of evil or by refusing to use it to help people. The thought made
the area of peacock tattoo tingle as if in agreement or maybe I hadn't gotten
enough sleep lately. I laughed. It didn't matter which.

The shop was busy, the day went by
quickly, and I made a good profit. After closing, I washed and dressed all in
white, a tignon on my head, a blouse and flared skirt with a red wrap at the
waist. I felt free. A half hour later I knocked at Monique's door. A few
minutes later she opened the door and stood appraising me.

"You look rested...and at
peace. Come in, Mambo Renee, and join me for a meal if you wish." She
smiled and stepped back for me to enter.

"I'd like that, Mambo Asogwe
Monique," I replied, acknowledging her seniority.

"I've some crawfish étouffée
heating on the stove."

"If it isn't too much trouble.
What I have to say will take time," I said, still not sure what I was
going to say, only knowing she had to know she would die unless... While we
ate, Monique made small talk about Vodou and the balance between being a priestess
and having to support one's self. After we finished and she made some tea, I
knew it was time.

"Yes, I have Mambo Eshe's gift
for seeing the future of anyone I come in physical contact with. She died
because of that gift. An unknown group was trying to force her to do something.
I don't know what they wanted her to do." My eyes misted and my heart sped
up at the thought of her having to die because of someone's attempt to play
God.

"She was a great Mambo Asogwe,
and a true Voodoo Queen," Monique said, her voice cracking. "So, when
I grabbed your hands..."

"Yes, I saw you burned to
death."

"There are worse ways to go, Renee.
I assume it's related to the people who offered to buy me out and want us all
gone. But is that related to Eshe?" She seemed resigned to her fate. I had
told her what would happen, so that was that. "What are you going to
do?"

"You don't have to die!"
I screamed. Now tears flowed freely.

"I see," she said
quietly. "That is why Eshe had to die. She could change the future, and
that is why they stalk you. To find out if you can. Yes, both a gift and a
curse from the Loa. What do you intend to do?"

"Save you!"

"Dangerous, is it not?"

"I don't care. Granny trusted
me with the gift. I will not dishonor her or her memory."

"Ah, passed along the female
bloodline. The Loa chose well." She nodded as if agreeing with herself or
the Loa. "Again, what do you want to do?"

"I know when and how but not
who. If possible, I would like to be able to catch whoever is behind the
treachery, without them knowing how we did it. But stopping them is more
important than keeping my secret."

"No, keeping your secret is
more important than my life." She held up her hand to stop me from
replying. "Let us not waste the Loa's gift unnecessarily. Let us see what
we can work on over the next...?"

"Eleven days."

"Good, we have time and need
not rush to a hasty decision. If I'm not the first, maybe the police will get
involved and give us a chance to help them in their investigation." She
smiled and patted my hand. "Age teaches patience, my child. Maybe the Loa
will decide to help." This time she laughed.

* * *

I woke with a start, realizing
today was the day Ms. Jeffery was scheduled to meet with me. I laughed, c
areful what you wish for, you may get it
.
I had wanted a distraction to stop worrying about Ellen and what would happen,
got it, and wished I hadn't. It was the trouble with my gift. I could cause the
future to change, but did it result in a better future for everyone? I could
see some of the consequences but certainly not the entire ripple effect.

Fortunately, it was another busy
day and time passed quickly. When Ellen was late, I began to worry that
something had gone wrong. Ellen had taken some unexpected action that changed
the future I had seen—like not wearing the ring when her stalker arrived,
or...