Murder On The Air Chapter Two

Chapter Two: “Voodoo, Hoodoo, Does and Wendigos”

After Louis cleaned up the glass windshield, the new parents made their way back to their home in the city. It was in a small suburban neighborhood but it wasn't where the wealthy lounged further up toward the countryside. They lived not too far from the French Quarter, a popular area where they would visit every week. Pulling up to the front of the house, they got out of the car, taking their baby with them. Little Alastor was soon placed in a wooden crib, where he was intrigued by moving mobiles and stuffed animals.

The parents took turns changing him, one rolling out of bed to let the other get some sleep. Most often Loretta would change him in the middle of the night to stop the crying. He was fed baby food and milk and gradually learned how to eat solid foods. It wasn't always easy though, he was a fussy eater at times.

Both Louis and Loretta watched as he crawled along the rugs and the floor, slowly exploring his surroundings. Their eyes filled with devotion to their son. Soon enough, he began to take his first steps. He was fed and mostly cared for by his mother.

Time went on and little four year old Alastor was soon in kindergarten just as the new century was beginning. Everything appeared to be going smoothly. Alastor would frequently read picture books by himself. He could use both hands to write and do arts and crafts. He loved to draw, too. When he wasn't alone, he would be a class comedian for the other children. His peers enjoyed having him around. He needed that good balance between socializing with new potential friends and spending time by himself.

Every time Loretta would drop him off, he would cry, not wanting to leave her. But he soon grew to like his classmates and the things he learned about. ABCs, simple math, animals, and beginning French. His report card was full of stellar comments.

The twentieth century had begun. Alastor would start first and second grade soon.

Loretta never knew quite when her husband had started become more aloof as the years went by. He was often busy at work and rarely got to see his son. When he did see him, he would mostly be tired and ask Loretta when dinner was ready. If Alastor acted out at home, Louis would growl and yell if he was in a bad mood. Just like at work, he would take out a gasper, inhale and let out puffs of smoke from his mouth.

"Doesn't smell very good," Alastor remarked, earning a glare from Louis.

"Ya get used to it," his mother said.

When and why Louis had slowly started to change, Loretta didn't know. Perhaps it was his job and the church that occupied his mind so often. Maybe he was already tired of raising a child and he wanted Loretta all to himself again. Whatever the reason, his personality gradually drifted from the kind-hearted spiritual man Loretta used to know.

Alastor never seemed to fit into his father's ideal image of a son. To Louis, Alastor always seemed slightly off. His skin too brown to be white and too light colored to be black. His brown eyes that would sometimes cross for no reason. The way his ears would stick out or how his dark brown hair would turn an auburn red in the light. Many older kids bullied Alastor for silly physical quirks such as those. Plus, he was lanky and didn't look much like a strong boy at all to outsiders.

But there was something else about him that didn't seem quite right, though Louis couldn't put his finger on it.

Louis was adjusting into the role expected for men: the provider and the dominant doer. Loretta would be placed in the submissive role more often than she would've liked. Most of the time, she didn't question it, for conflict wouldn't do anyone good, least of all, Alastor.

Louis soon became more and more devoted to church. Loretta had to hide her books and Voodoo practices from him. He had been confused and in disbelief when Loretta had told him about her culture. But after he became outraged after she had prayed to Bon Dieu, she never brought up the topic to him again.

But that didn't mean that she hid her knowledge from Alastor. Quite the opposite. At every opportunity, she taught him the myths of her faith and about his ancestors.

During June, the Crowley family would celebrate St. John's Eve and then St. John's Day. It was a celebration of not only the saint, but also the warmth of the summer and the sun. After the summer, the light of the days would slowly diminish, until returning after the winter. Alastor's family from both his parent's sides all came together to have dinner. Alastor had a nice time at such a gathering, at age four. The sunset turned the sky a marvelous fiery orange, a bright orb sinking down to the horizon. The Crowleys and Duvaliers sat a long outdoor table covered by a white cloth. They lit candles and said grace before they ate. Bread, wine, vegetables, potatoes and meat were served. The meat consisted of turkey, ham, and deer meat…all seasoned and very flavorful.

"So how's da family doin' Lo,?" Joseph Duvalier asked his sister.

"Doin' alright, as usual," Loretta replied. "Hotel's running slower and mah class is out from school. More of a nice break from workin' a lot. How 'bout you?"

"Mah son Eddy's learnin' how ta play da piano. Ah have a feelin' we'll have several musicians in da family."

The two siblings watched with smiles on their faces as Eddy and Alastor laughed and rough-housed in the green field of grass. Eddy's sister, Clementine rolled her eyes and went back to practicing table manners as she ate.

Later after dinner, Alastor watched as his father and his dark skinned uncle Joseph gathered logs to put in a pile. Joseph liked to wear brown pants and a green shirt. As the sky grew dark, a bonfire was lit up. Joseph jumped over it several times for good luck…Loretta joined in.

Along with Christmas, Hallow's Eve, Day of the Dead, and Mardi Gras, this was one of the few times Alastor got to unite with his extended family, and feel a closer bond with his father and aunt, Adelle. Adelle stared at Alastor in mild interest, but she wasn't one to be seen around kids. She was a well-dressed hairstylist who didn't like to be in conflict with anyone. She wore a neutral colored dress, red lipstick, and a small round hat over her dark hair. Her face was white and her eyes sky blue.

"Those two seem to be enjoying themselves," Adelle stated, watching the boys.

"Indeed," said Louis. "I've had a few doubts about my son's development, but it seems to be going fine now."

"You do have reason to be concerned," she said, "given that he was born so early. But like you said, he's just like any other boy around." She sighed.

Louis elbowed her. "You have something against boys?" he asked, a tilted grin.

"Especially a boy for a brother," she replied. "There you go hunting whenever you can, doing yard work and teasing people."

"Yeah, and what about you? You were lost in your fantasy games with dolls all the time. At least I got to have some adventure, fishing with Pops."

"Fishing is the most boring hobby."

"So is pursuing fashion," he countered. "You're still a silly girl."

Adelle scoffed playfully. "You never change, Lou."

"It's Louis, Addy," he replied.

Adelle started singing "Skip to my Lou," and Louis rolled his eyes.

"Any plans for marriage?" he asked.

"My partner and I are still working things out. We plan on marrying in several months, but no kids for us."

"There's nothing wrong with having kids," he said.

"They're nothing but trouble for a woman having to work full time."

"Whatever works for you."

Eddy and Alastor rolled in the grass, making fart noises much to Clementine's disgust. They brushed off the grass and dirt from their clothes.

"That was fun!" Eddy squealed.

"Yeah!" Alastor agreed. The two of them admired the large bonfire nearby. The flames were mesmerizing…ever moving in its own hypnotic dance.

Alastor stared at it longer and imagined flaming deer galloping around in circles. Two stags chasing each other before leaping away from the center of the flames before vanishing against the sky.

"Whoa, did you see that?" Eddy asked.

"See what?"

"Da flames! I saw shapes in em!"

Alastor focused again and waved his hand. A fiery bull stomped its hooves and appeared to charge at them, growing larger.

"Whoa!" Eddy cried as both boys stood back before the bull vanished back into the bonfire. "Are you doing that?"

Alastor stared in amazement at the flames and down at his hands.

"Yeah! Watch this!"

He focused again and this time, a t-Rex roared at them, its mouth open wide. The boys screamed and laughed.

"Magic," thought Clementine.

They soon spotted a smaller bonfire a short distance away. Clementine stood up from the table and made her way over to the small fire.

"You guys racin'?" she asked.

Both guys nodded with a thumbs up.

Eddy grinned to Alastor. "I'll race ya there! Last one to jump is a butt face."

"Bring it!"

The boys took off in sprints. Clementine noticed that Alastor was a few paces ahead of Eddy. There was no way she was going to let her brother lose.

In a swift motion, she held out a thin branch in Alastor's path. Alastor spotted it and the branch flew into the flames. The two boys leapt over the flames and landed.

"Ha! I win!" Eddy declared with victorious jumps.

"I think it was a tie," said Alastor.

"Eddy won for sure," Clementine countered.

"You tried to trip me!" Alastor accused, turning to her.

"Not I didn't," she said.

"What was with the branch?"

"What branch?"

"You know what I'm talking about, cheater!"

"The one that you made fly in? Oooh, I'm tellin' your parents."

Alastor glanced nervously at his father and aunt. "Please don't."

Clementine yelled at the top of her lungs, "Alastor did magic! Alastor did ma…"

Clementine suddenly screamed and reeled back as a lone flame jumped from the pile and onto her dress. She flailed wildly.

"Stop drop and roll," Eddy called as she did. The fire was snuffed out.

Loretta, Louis, and Joseph came over. Clementine was crying and her arm was burned red.

"A-al used magic," she sobbed.

"It was all an accident," Eddy claimed.

"Eddy's right," Alastor said. "Magic isn't real at all."

Though based on what he had done, he wasn't so sure.

Alastor was soon pulled aside by his mother for a talk. After Alastor apologized to Clementine, his mother asked him a strange question when they were alone.

"Were you using powers?"

"What?"

"Eddy told me that you was makin' shapes out of da flames. Is dat true?"

Alastor nodded. "I don't know how I did it. I focused and, it just happened."

"Clementine says ya burned her."

"She got close to the flames…"

"Don't lie ta me, son."

"How do you know about magic anyway?"

"Because…I have it too."

A pause.

Loretta looked at her son dead in the eye. "Apologize to Clementine. Do not tell anyone else about what you did."

"But…"

"Now."

Alastor nodded and apologized to her. Loretta told Clementine to close her eyes. When she opened them, her arm was healed. She stared at her arm, then at Loretta in amazement.

"Thankfully, everyone else thought it was an accident. Pretend like it's still hurt. Don't tell anyone else about dis, ya hear me? It could put our side of da family in danger."

Clementine nodded.

Loretta sighed and turned to Alastor. "Ah know you aren't in control yet, but don't use magic around others like dat. It's dangerous for others ta know."

Alastor nodded.

"Good. Let's get back to da celebration."

Though things usually went smoothly from within their family, out in public was a different story. Louis and Loretta would bring their son with them to Mardi Gras every year. One starry night was similar to many others.

"Laissez le bon temps rouler!"

"Let the good times roll!" the people chanted in English, French, and other languages.

Little Alastor would sit atop his father's shoulders as his father playfully pat his head. Trying not to fall, he would wave his little arms as the parade floats would go by. The streets were full of floats decorated in lights and shaped like zoo animals. Dancers marched in front of several floats, some of them juggling balls or twirling flaming batons. The children would chant "Throw me something, mista!" as the dressed up people on the floats threw necklaces of yellow, red, blue, green and purple to the crowd. Loretta caught a necklace and held it to Alastor. He stared happily at the colorful beads and fiddled with them. Loretta gently put Alastor down and the family made their way to the outdoor markets.

Colorful tasty food were sold at different tables, almost as vivid as the surrounding decorations.

Traditional dishes were everywhere: Crawfish Etouffee, Dirty Rice with liver bits, the Po-Boy sandwich, Crawfish Boil, Pancakes and Loretta's favorite, Jambalaya. Seafood was quite popular with those in this city. Louis happily munched on crawfish, reminiscing of the times he went fishing with his dad and brother.

King Cakes were also made as tasty deserts. There were even little sugar cookies shaped like party masks.

Alastor managed to find the little king figure in his piece of cake.

He held it up proudly and declared, "I'm going to be a king when I grow up!"

The Crowleys started to head back home, and that's when they heard them.

Hushed whispers.

Passerby, staring at them, scrutinizing their every move.

Every word, every sentence dug into the trio and hurt like a sharp hot knife.

"Are those the Crowleys? A messed up folk, I've heard. Bunch of horny occultists."

"Why would that Catholic man lower his status to be with some poor colored whore? I'm surprised they haven't gotten arrested yet! Interracial marriage is illegal."

"And having a mixed bastard child, too? He's probably a troubled confused mess. Why is his hair red auburn?"

"Isn't that woman a voodoo witch who does black magic and sacrifices? She probably put a love spell on her husband."

"Ignore them," mouthed Louis as they passed, gripping his wife's arm tight so she wouldn't yell or attack. Alastor's hair briefly took on a reddish tint in the street lights and, during the day, in sunlight.

Being berated by society just for existing…it was those thoughts that often made the Crowleys doubtful of what they were doing.

Could they keep raising their only son in a world that already hated him?

As if reading his mind, Loretta said, "We must keep going, honey. We must make do with what we have. As the one who prayed for his life, it is my…and your duty to raise him to his fullest potential. Ah have a feelin' that little Alastor is tougher and smarter than he looks."

Alastor waved happily as a marching band played drums and trumpets past them. He gasped in excitement as he saw a toy train in a store window.

"Later, Alastor," his father said, eyeing him. "You know we can't buy every toy you see."

He turned back to Loretta.

"Tougher and smarter? You think so?" Louis asked.

"Ah know so. Ah'm surprised you don't agree."

"I do agree," he replied, though his tone held traces of uncertainty.

Loretta smiled as the boy between them happily danced to the sounds of jazz bands playing nearby.

"Well…Ah do sense there might be a musician in the family," Loretta remarked with a little laugh.

A marvelous spectacle of fireworks lit up the sky as the Mardi Gras celebration lasted all night long.

The family arrived home and Alastor danced happily after Loretta turned on the gramophone in the living room. A vinyl spun via a needle and lively music played from the golden flower-shaped speaker. The young boy pulled his parents in toward the center. Soon, the trio were dancing around in a circle, singing and laughing. Loretta taught Alastor the waltz and some other dance moves. He was clumsy at first, but he slowly got used to it.

They collapsed on the couch to catch their breaths. Louis handed Alastor a brown box and he opened it. It was the train toy model he had seen earlier in the shop window.

"I couldn't resist," Louis admitted. "Not with your sweet face."

Alastor's smile lit up the room as he hugged his parents in thanks.

Alastor couldn't wait for more fun adventures in the future!

Spring, nineteen hundred and two

One bright sunny spring day, Loretta held Alastor's hand and they went for a walk in the woods. Alastor was six years old.

"Where are we going?" Alastor asked. He was wearing gray pants, an old white shirt and dark colored shoes.

"Ah'm taking you to the house of your grand-mere," she explained.

"Grandma's house?"

"That's right, mon fils. Son nom est Antoinette."

"Antoinette. What a lovely name!"

Loretta led out a musical laugh as rays of sunlight shone between branches and emerald green leaves above. Her spring dress was thin and dark green, with wave-like designs along the lower rim of her dress. A light green bow was perched in her hair. Usually her thick black curls were hidden or pulled back into a tight bun at work or when she was preparing a meal in the kitchen. But now, in the freedom of the forest, her hair was down. The black springs swayed in the breeze, free of any judgement and restraint. Her spiral heart-shaped necklace stood visible, out of its usual hiding place beneath a corset or extra layers of clothing.

"Antoinette Duvalier. One of the most well-known Voodoo practitioners in Louisiana. Legend says she can perform spells. Ah know it for sure, since Ah've seen it with mah very eyes."

Alastor gasped with an open mouth. "Whoa! But, wait, Papa says magic isn't real. He says that those who know of magic will get burned and punished after death."

"Phonus balnous. Magic is real alright. You should know because ya did it a while ago. Both the magic of God and the magic of the spirits we worship. Nothing bad will happen to ya if ya know about magic. It's just dat not everyone's been able to see it. The art's been passed down to only a responsible few. Most people don't understand it."

"What about my grandfather?"

"Hmm, let's see. If you're talkin' about mah dad, his name was Roscoe Duvalier. Solitary guy who made musical instruments by hand. Donated to charity a lot. Skin as black as mine. As for your other grandparents…Your papa did tell ya about Samuel and Abigail right?"

Alastor shook his head. "Yes, but I didn't really listen. He discussed historical events. Boring."

"Well Samuel worked as a car mechanic and on the railroad before going off to fight in the war. He was healed by Abigail who was a nurse at that time. Both of them were white. They fell in love and out came your father and his sister Adelle."

"Where do babies come from? Where did I come from?"

Loretta playfully touched and poked Alastor's stomach. "From inside yo mama!" Alastor laughed as she tickled him for a bit before they continued walking.

"And yes, you have uncles, aunts, and cousins too," Loretta said.

Alastor saw a family of deer in this distance, peacefully grazing near a lake. A doe and a little fawn drank from the lake while a buck stood guard nearby. The fawn had white spots over its caramel colored coat. The fawn and Alastor briefly made eye contact, the fawn's face tilted in curiosity. Then just as fast, the fawn trotted away with the doe and the buck.

"Be glad Papa isn't around," Alastor mentioned to himself, knowing how often his father hunted.

Soon, they came to a clearing, where a small cottage rested. It was smaller than the Crowley's summer cabin and closer to where they lived in the city. A dirt path led to the front door. A sign in the ground read "no trespassing." Save for some wild flowers around, the place didn't seem all that inviting. Still, Loretta led her son up to the wooden porch.

Loretta turned to him and spoke almost in a whisper. "She don't like to be bothered by other people, but she'll open it warmly for her family. Listen closely, mah son. Once we go through that door, you'll be exposed to traditions that have hardly reached main society. Sadly, your father grows less and less tolerant of it."

Alastor stared with confusion.

She continued, staring right into his eyes. "You're old enough to know dis now. The U.S. is not acceptin' of those who look and act different than wealthy white folk. Many folk in this town are scared of us and don't understand our values. You've noticed it too, yes?"

Alastor thought back to the "white" and "colored" restroom signs and how one of his teachers told him that he was going in the wrong one.

"But my skin is light colored," he said, staring at his hands.

"Don't matter," the first grade teacher chided. "Not white enough. From what I recall, you're black."

Alastor didn't seem black or white. Why would anyone think he was a certain color anyway? He had dashed into the "colored" boy's bathroom, earning suspicious looks from his darker skinned classmates.

"Yes, Ah've been there too. And it will only get worse. People only mingle in their lives and nothing is done to change things. Neg di san fe."

"People talk and don't act," Alastor repeated her saying.

"But now, ya must promise me something," she continued.

"Anything, Mama," he said.

"You will learn all ya can, show respect to Antoinette, and most importantly, this session stays between us."

"I promise," he affirmed.

Loretta held out her dark brown hand. "Shake on it."

Alastor thought for a moment that he saw her hand glow a teal blue. Though he didn't see anything, he could feel the presence of beneficial spirits roaming the woods.

Nodding, he clasped his hand in hers, giving it a shake. Their hands parted.

"You've sealed your first deal," she said. "It's harmless to both of us, but know that in most deals, there's a great cost."

She stood back up and raised her right fist to knock. "Be careful in the world. Don't take shit from other hombres."

It was the first and only time he had hear his mother swear. The look in her eyes told Alastor that swearing wasn't a good idea, even though it happens.

Her fist made contact with the door.

Knock.

Knock, knock, knock, knock.

Knock, knock.

It was a slow version of "Shave and a Haircut." The "pass code" to get in.

The door swung open.

"Loretta, dear," said a smiling face. They embraced in a tight hug and spoke phrases in Creole. Antoinette had dark skin with wrinkles and a head of curly white hair. A cane was held in her left hand for walking and her dress was hand-made with colorful fabrics stitched together. Thin glasses were perched under her eyes. One of her eyes was cloudy white.

"And who is dis?" she asked, looking down at him.

"Alastor, mam'," he replied.

"Mah grandson! What a pleasure it is to see ya."

She and Alastor embraced.

"Well come on in," she beckoned, leading the way back inside. Alastor and his mother followed.

Inside the cottage, Alastor couldn't believe his eyes.

Voodoo alters and trinkets were everywhere in the living room. White unlit candles were placed in skulls on a large desk. There were pictures of Jesus, several of God's angels and a piece of artwork depicting African deities. One picture caught Alastor's eye: a black man with long braided hair wearing white skull makeup and wearing a black top hat and a dark purple suit. He was standing in a graveyard, with an elaborate cane leaned against a gravestone. A bottle of rum was in one of his hands.

There were various hand-crafted masks that hung on one of the walls. Herbs, straw voodoo dolls, and animal parts in small jars lined a shelf. Chicken feet, eyeballs, a rabbit foot, black dog tails and even a chicken fetus were suspended in murky liquid. Hanging from the ceiling were stitched up dolls and beautiful tubes of different-colored glass.

Another alter was dedicated to ancestors. One of the pictures showed Antoinette's distant relative, Marie Laveau: an elegant looking woman wearing a red shall and a yellow cloth over her black hair.

"Satanism?" Alastor whispered, recalling a term his father used.

"No," Antoinette replied. "Hoodoo and Voodoo are different from Satanism and Paganism. Paganism sees the divinity in nature. Nothing to do with Satan, but Hoodoo involves God and the saints."

She took a seat in a comfy red chair in the living room. Loretta and Alastor sat on a couch with flowered patterns on it. With a wave of her hand, the candles in the skulls lit up.

Alastor stared, open-mouthed, the sights of magic still new to him. "That was amazing! How'd you do that?"

"Many years of practice, and dedication," Antoinette replied. "Speaking of which, mah daughter, how are ya skills comin' along?"

Loretta briefly glanced away, embarrassed. "Ah'm outta practice."

"Use it or lose it," Antoinette mentioned. "Though Ah would say dat it's smart of you to keep it hidden."

"Especially now that mah husband doesn't approve of it. Ah've tried to tell him about…ya know, our ways, because Ah thought he'd understand…"

She felt guilty.

Antoinette looked at her with a mixture of disappointment and concern. "Well, Ah can see how ya feel, since ya love him dearly. But now ya see what happens when ya try and explain it to outsiders. They are led by misconceptions, assumptions made by mainstream society about what is right and wrong. It's best to lay low for a while, but whenever ya can, do your part for our community…and for me."

"Yes, Mama," she said. "Ah've been to several Voodoo ceremonies and even got to led one as well. But the people there say they miss Antoinette the Great Queen. No one can do magic like ya. Ah can barely even make a flower grow now."

"Anyone can learn magic, dear. There are many different forms of it. But remember, whatever energy ya put out, also must be returned eventually."

"I have a question," Alastor pipped up. "If we can use magic, why not make it so other people can stop bringing us down?"

Both of them stared at the young boy. They were shocked, yes, but also found him admirable, if not prone to recklessness. There was cleverness and a desire for immediate change in this kid. Already he knew more about life than others his age.

"Alastor, darling," said his mother. "Ah've wanted to do the same thing for a while. But that would only cause mass panic and suspicion. Do ya really want to use magic in public to increase the risk of going to the Big House?"

"I…hadn't thought about that…"

"Or worse," Antoinette added, "Those who are seen as criminals or even homos are either beaten up or thrown into da asylum to rot. Once you're there, there's no escape. That is, if you're still alive after they find ya. It's best to be cautious and let the Big Sleep come naturally."

Alastor nodded.

"Now then, for some history. While Voodoo is a religion, Hoodoo is not, though they may appear to be the same thing. Hoodoo originated from Africa, while Voodoo arose from Haiti. In Hoodoo, practitioners practice a form of folk magic who often call on Roman Catholic saints or biblical characters for aid."

She held some purple crystal pieces and crushed herbs in her hand. "We often use different items to help us with healing, fortune telling and spell casting. For example…"

She put the amethyst crystal shards and crushed lavender into a bowl and mixed them up. She uttered an ancient incantation and the items glowed in a calming purple light. Alastor could feel tension ease away.

"This simple spell is used to help relax people before rituals. It gives them a sense of spiritual calmness." She dusted off her hands and turned back to her two family members. "Ah gave thanks to Mary and Saint Joseph for dat one."

She held out herbs in her hands and explained how they could heal cuts, sooth burns, and ease pain. Others could be consumed to help fight off cramps and colds.

"In Voodoo, followers believe in a supreme creator known as Bondye, or Bon Dieu, French for "good God." As Bondye doesn't interfere with us mortals, the spirits known as Loa are called. There are many different types: the beneficial Rada, the malevolent Petro and the Ghede who work with the dead. All of them are neutral spirits, they have quirks and flaws like we do."

Alastor listened intently, amazed at this obscure hidden faith being revealed to him. He could see why Loretta had wanted him to shake her hand…he was half tempted to excitedly tell his father about all he had learned. But common sense ruled out.

Antoinette continued. "Mah father would sometimes call upon da Ghede to appease the grief of loved ones…those who wanted to hear their voices one last time. But with increased demands, he grew weary of his work. More people wanted to see their loved ones…and the more he opened the rift between here and da spirit world, the more years he lost from his life. He decided to let da spirits be and focus on more simple healing rituals. Sadly, he died very young from da hands of a plantation slave owner."

Different Voodoo symbols floated in the air around her: light blue for Rado, red for Petro, and gray for the death-related Loa family. "Ah'm affiliated with all da Loa types, but Ah use magic for da good of others and ma-self."

"How exciting!" Alastor said with a clap of his hands. "What spell shall we do first? Can I win bets? Have good luck in school?"

"Whoa whoa, slow down, Al," said Antoinette with a laugh.

"I prefer Alastor, please," he said.

"Ya can't just use magic in public for trivial matters like dat! Magic is meant to be practiced in secret."

"Or as a last resort," Loretta added. "And never for evil. Another misconception about Voodoo magic…it's not "evil" at all."

Antoinette continued. "You need to think of da spell in your head and focus on your objective. You could also chant out loud or snap ya fingers. Ya just need to concentrate. Calling on Loas helps for more complex spells and rituals."

Loretta looked at Alastor. "Well then, shall we get started?"

Alastor took a breath. "Yes, let's do this!"

For about half an hour, the three of them practiced simple tasks. Lighting candles, mixing and grinding herbs, learning how to use a needle and thread. Alastor could light candles, but was having some difficulty with other spells. Loretta, with some effort, lifted a book in the air without touching it. Alastor tried to hold it in place with his hands out, but the book fell and landed on his foot after Loretta let go.

"Owww!" He cried out, rubbing his foot.

"I'll get some ice," Loretta said in embarrassment.

Several days went by. The practice sessions continued.

Then, Alastor learned some Creole words, though there were several he couldn't pronounce correctly.

"Pronunciation is everything when it comes to ceremonies and spells," Antoinette stated after several incorrect wordings led to sparks getting on his clothing and in his face.

Alastor leaned about the five elements: fire, earth, air, water, and ether or spirit.

"Ya have an affinity with da fire element," said his grandmother, "Passionate, brave, ever positive. But you lack expression of the watery emotions of empathy and nurturing. Learning to be vulnerable and express your feelings will help you in the long run."

Alastor ignored that.

Later on, Antoinette raised a fat straw doll in front of her off the ground using only intense focus. The doll had a stitched on smile and black buttons for eyes. The hair on its head was whitish and curly. Loretta could keep hers in the air for a few seconds before it dropped. Her doll looked like a beautiful young woman with a little fabric dress.

"These dolls represent spirits and ancestors. They aren't used to harm others with pins, as many people believe. Ya doin' alright, Al?"

"Aww come on! Why isn't it working?"

Little Alastor was getting impatient. His doll hadn't moved. It was in the shape of a dog, with floppy tan ears, little black button eyes and a stitched on smile. It even had a small thin tail attached to the end of it.

"Ya got to keep a clear head. Can't expect magic to work for ya just like 'dat."

"Nothing's worked for me this whole time."

"Be patient, mon cher," Loretta encouraged.

Alastor squinted his eyes and tried again. Still nothing.

He waved his hands. Wiggled his fingers, stamped his foot, and pounded on the floor. The doll stayed where it was. He picked it up and shook it in frustration.

"Why…won't…this magic…work…?!"

He shook the doll in his right hand and let out a frustrated yell. The straw doll suddenly burst into red flames in his hand.

Loretta gasped in fright and ran off to fetch some water. Antoinette stared with narrow, thoughtful eyes. Concern was etched onto her face.

Alastor, however, stared mesmerized by the harmless crimson flames, surrounded by miniature Voodoo symbols. His hands remained unscathed. He emitted a joyful laugh as the straw dog's features were disfigured by the flames.

"Mama, Mama! I did it!"

Alastor gasped as water doused the flames in his hands. Smoke and steam filled the room. A wave of Antoinette's hand blew it away. The smoldering remains of the doll dropped to the floor, a darkened head detached from its body.

Alastor remained silent. Antoinette and Loretta glanced at each other.

"Al…may Ah read your palm, please? Da left one?"

Alastor nodded to his grandmother. He silently went over to wash his hands and then came back, holding out his palm. Antoinette traced the lines of his palm with her finger. She took hold of his hand and inwardly gasped. With a shuddering breath, she let go.

She glanced at her daughter. "Darling, may Ah speak with ya alone?"

Loretta nodded and turned to her son. "Practice some more…safely please."

The two women walked toward the back into a spare bedroom, closing the door. Alastor, of course, was curious about what they had to say. He shuffled over and leaned his ear against the wooden surface of the door.

"I'm telling ya, there be bad energy in him." Antoinette's voice.

"What on ever do ya mean?" Loretta asked.

"Ah felt it when Ah read his palm. Ah could get glimpses of his future. Ah saw a man clad in red. His clothes, his hands…covered in blood. And what's worse…a shadow of…"

"Of what?"

"A wendigo behind him."

Loretta instantly scoffed in dismissal. "Ya know that visions could mean many things. And yours ain't always accurate, despite ya talent. Read him again, you'll find something good."

"Once is enough for me."

"Wendigos ain't even real!" Loretta argued. "A Native myth!"

Wendigo? Evil powers? He could barely understand what they were talking about…but he knew they were talking about him. His father had already started judging him for not acting like a proper male. Never mind the fact that half the time, he wasn't even at home.

Would he have to live under the scrutinizing eyes of both parents?

"And yet magic is real," Antoinette countered. "You've learned about Native and African myths when you was a child. Ya should know better than to dismiss them as irrelevant."

A few yellow symbols hovered around her, then vanished. "Fess up. You who practice the beneficial magic of Erzulie Mansur. On behalf of Granne Erzulie, one Ah revere, Ah ask for the truth. Darkness rarely enters into children so young. How did it come to be?"

Loretta grit her teeth, sweat present on her forehead. Her back was against a wooden dresser. Though her mother was shorter than her, she knew she was not one to be messed around with.

"How?!"

Loretta sighed in defeat. "Ah invoked Papa Legba, Baron Samedi, and Kalfu. Kalfu and I made a deal to save mah son's life."

Antoinette breathed a tight breath, eyes wide. "Unbelievable…and ya didn't think to call on your own power? Or better yet, your ancestors?"

"Ah tried!" She was only now realizing the results of her desperate wish. "What else could Ah do? God gave me hope, as did Bondye. But nothing is ever certain with da Rada. There was a fifty percent chance he could've died! Papa Legba said it was a last resort, so Ah figured Ah had to take it."

"And so ya decided to take a risk with da Petro aspect of Legba, da most shady untrustworthy Loa in existence?!"

Loretta nodded. "Ah knew life always comes with a price. Ah was prepared to lose several years of mah own for his sake."

"It don't always work dat way. Ya never know what you're dealing with when it comes to Kalfu. He's destructive and unpredictable. Had ya been disrespectful, ya likely wouldn't be here right now!"

Loretta nodded, insecurity in her eyes.

"It was a foolish thing to do. So many mortals call on the Loa and don't know what they're doing. And they wonder why bad luck follows them around."

"But like Ah said…Ah did it to save mah son. He had to be born, he was running out of oxygen…"

"And now Ah warn ya of potential consequences. A great evil…"

"Mah son, is not evil!"

Her abrupt voice made Alastor step back a few steps.

"No one is born evil," Antoinette explained. "But a greater chance for him to become evil later in life. That is the cost of your wish."

All was silent for several minutes.

"I assure ya, mother," Loretta said, standing up straight. "Ah will do all in mah power to make sure mah son follows a good path. It may or may not be Christian led. But it will be a path devoted to kindness, compassion, friendship and love. No matter what karma may have in store…Ah'll be there for mah dearest Alastor."

"Just be careful," was the reply from the elderly woman.

Alastor scurried away from the door and into the living room before Loretta and Antoinette came out of the room.

"Come along, Alastor," said Loretta, taking him by the hand. "Thank ya for your time mother," she called out. They walked out the door and back into the woods. Alastor looked back at his grandmother and their eyes met in a glance of goodbye.

Neither Alastor nor his mother talked on the way back to their house. It was getting late.

They walked in the door and there sat a tired Louis smoking a gasper.

"Shoes off," he ordered. "Don't need to bring any dirt and mud into the house."

Alastor took off his boots while Loretta removed her shoes.

"What took you so long, darling?" he asked his wife.

"Just took Al for a walk," she replied simply.

Louis stared in disgust at the dirt on their clothes. "Awfully long walk. What did you do? Teach him filthy magic while playing in the dirt?"

"No," she said more firmly. "Just a simple walk."

"You better not be lying," he said as he stood up. "Good wives don't deceive. I saw you when you somehow made a flower appear in a pot outside. Be lucky that I'm here to protect you from witch-hunting officials."

"Of course not," she stuttered, reaching out to touch him. He slapped her hand away.

"Good. Get the roast ready. It should've already been in the oven by now."

She sighed and left toward the kitchen without another word. She would have to make sure she was alone or in a safe place to practice. "Ah wonder how well Alastor could sew dolls?" she thought. "Or perhaps make jambalaya with me. It gets boring cooking by mah-self all the time. He'll have to learn some beneficial magic. Make him more confident, at least."

Alastor sat in his room and read a book on Native American myths before going to bed. He stumbled across a picture of a tall skeletal beast with antlers. The beast had visible ribs and long limbs.

"Wendigo/wetiko: an evil spirit from the folklore of First Nations Algonquian tribes. Wendigo is described as a monster with human characteristics or as a spirit who possessed a human being. Its influence is said to invoke acts of murder, cannibalism and greed that cannot be satisfied. Other associations include winter, famine and starvation."

Just the look of the creature gave Alastor the heebie jeebies.

"The wendigo is never satisfied after killing and consuming one person; they are constantly searching for new victims. Wendigo psychosis has been reported in historical accounts. A human would become possessed by the Wendigo spirit after being in a situation of needing food and resorting to cannibalism to survive. The sole remedy for those possessed was death. American colonialism has been equated with the Wendigo as a metaphor."

"Wendigos describe a dark aspect of human nature: the desire toward greed, consumption and disregard for other life in the pursuit of increasing one's reputation."

His grandmother must've gone screwy in her old age. There was no way in Heaven or Hell that he would associate with such an infernal beast.

He turned off the light and eventually fell asleep.