Page 20 of Voodoo Burning

“Come in, child, there be work to be done,” Hattie says, her French Creole accent thick. It always was in here.

I won’t ask how she knew we were coming. She just knows.

“I have some questions I want to ask you, Tante.” I take a seat at the table, and Ignatius silently takes the one next to me. There’s a white sheet of paper in front of Hattie on the table with some writing on it.

“I know what you be wanting to know, Dominique. But first we must do the uncrossing.” She levels her gaze first to me, then to Ignatius.

Uncrossing is the spell to undo any harm or bad luck. Apparently, Hattie is going to do the uncrossing on both Ignatius and me.

Neither of us argue with Hattie or question what she’s doing, or why. This is as normal as taking aspirin when you’re sick, it’s just another day in New Orleans.

Hattie turns to the photo of our ancestor Marie Laveau sitting on the altar in a frame behind her and begins to chant, her voice low and sultry. “I, Hattie Paris, honor you, Marie Laveau. I come forth with a pure heart and these offerings.” The water and the food.

We don’t say a word as Hattie talks and prays to Marie Laveau, and all our ancestors who have come before, and since her, and she does so with both Catholic and African prayers. We watch with reverence as she calls on her for help and guidance, as we watch the powers possess her. As Hattie becomes one with all the ancestors who live on through us.

Hattie picks up some burning incense and starts to recite psalm 37 as she encircles us with the incense smoke. When she’s finished with that, she picks up the mortar and pestle, mumbles something in tongues, then scoops up some of the powder from the bowl and blows it into each of our faces. It’s disorienting. It doesn’t blind us or cause us any discomfort, but surrounds us with a smoky cloud that seems to dull everything. The flame on the large white candle on the table sparks and grows in a flash, then returns to its peaceful flicker in the center of the pentagram on the table.

Hattie lays her hands on the cloth and closes her eyes. Ignatius and I sit silently and wait.

Finally, with her eyes still closed, Hattie says, “Child, leave me the things you have questions about.”

I glance at Ignatius. I’m not supposed to do this, leave evidence with a civilian in an ongoing investigation. But this is Hattie, and we’re talking about Voodoo and Hoodoo and Santeria, and everything else. I need answers.

After a moment of internal battling, I come to a compromise. I decide to leave her only what was on my car.

“I was at Ignatius’ house today, as you know, and someone went there and spray-painted this on my car.” I retrieve a printed photo of the markings from my files. “I was hoping you could help me decipher what it means.” I have my own ideas, but I’d like to get hers. Two sets of eyes are better than one.

My head is still a bit foggy from whatever Hattie used in her incantation, and I hope Ignatius and I don’t look like a couple of miners stepping out from the bowels of the earth with our faces covered in soot.

Hattie barely gives the print a second look. “Leave it with me and I’ll think on it for a while. These things can’t be rushed, as you are aware.” She turns and picks up a box from the shelf behind her. Facing Ignatius, she hands it to him. “This is fixed for the Beauchamp house. Spread it around the entire thing. All around. Don’t you let no breaks happen to it.” Then she reaches over and plucks a strand of hair from my head, then Ignatius’. She puts it in the mortar bowl, grabs some leaves from behind her and throws them in too. She snatches a wooden match from the box on the table, lights it with the candle, then throws it into the mortar bowl. The flames burst from the small dish, then go out just as quickly. She then dips a finger in the ashes and smears an X over top of the writing on the sheet of paper and folds it four times. She picks up the candle and drips some of the melted wax on the fold to seal it. She hands that to me. “Take this to the house and burn it in a fire.” She levels her gaze at me, and I feel it reach down deep into my bones. “Then take it to the biggest tree toward the swamps and spread the ashes around it.” The instruction was for both of us.

Ignatius hasn’t said a word, only nodded when Hattie spoke to him. It was his eyes. They seemed to be alive and wild with whatever’s going on inside him.

“Now go.” Hattie heaves a deep breath.

We stand and turn to leave as Hattie remains standing at the table, head bent, palms resting on the flat surface, the photo I left her sitting in front of her. Ignatius holds the door open for me as we step into the dark night air, the sounds of the city all around us. As we get into the car, what just happened might be over, but it’s truly only beginning.

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