Voodoo Season : A Marie Laveau Mystery

by Jewell Parker Rhodes

• ISBN13: 9780743483278
• ISBN10: 0743483278
• Format: Hardcover
• Copyright: 2005-08-30
• Publisher: Atria

Summary

Jewell Parker Rhodes, who has earned legions of fans with her masterful fiction, launched her career as an award-winning novelist with Voodoo Dreams, based on the legend of New Orleans's most famous voodoo priestess, Marie Laveau.

Voodoo Seaso

Author Biography

Jewell Parker Rhodes is a professor of creative writing and American literature at Arizona State University.

Excerpts

Chapter One She was cloaked in mist -- soft as silk, cold as ice, darker than the bayou on a moonless night. "Marie." She was blind in a world without parameters, borders. Only sound. Raw feelings."Marie."She couldn't breathe."Marie" -- a dry, reedy call; then, mournful, like a keening from a wounded animal or a lost child. "Marie."The mist grew heavy, the weight of the world was pulling her down, sucking out air, life -- pulling her down into a swamp of memories:She, just ten, watching a man writhing on the floor, a snake circling his neck; she, a woman grown, strapped to a tree, scars crisscrossing her back; she, an old woman singing, "Oh, Mary, don't you weep, don't you moan"; she, trembling, diving into thick, heady water, catfish brushing her thighs; then, a mother, screaming, giving birth, as she, the babe, slipped out, swimming downstream in a rush of water, a bloodied, blue-red membrane covering her face.Except she was none of these. She was in her apartment, in her own bed. With a man she'd picked up at Cajun House. And she wasn't cold; she sweated from the heat of his body, from his hands stroking her breasts, his pelvis rubbing against hers.Was she dreaming? Hallucinating?"A haunting," her friend, Ellie, would say. "Spirits out of place. Talking." Marie didn't believe in ghosts. She was a doctor, objective. Good in a crisis."Marie." A soft chant."Marie." The mist cleared. Drums resounded and she swayed in a dress shimmering with rainbows. "Marie." Arms outstretched, flames spiraled from her fingertips. She felt herself rise. Snakes slithered across the floor. A sweet voice counterpointed the drums: "Home. Let's go home." A burst of light, a swirling of fireflies."Marie." Hands tugged at her skirt, pulling her down. "Heal me"; "No, heal me." Faces: black, brown, white -- some staring reverently, some desperately, some enviously. Features fading: no eyes, only mouths. Wailing, screaming: "No, me. Heal me"; "Maman Marie, please. Heal me."Fingers plucked at her skin, ripping her skirt, tugging, threatening to trample her down to the ground.She screamed."Sssh," a voice murmured, a tongue licking her ear."Sssh," she echoed, chest heaving.Mist pressed against her eyes, breasts, abdomen. Her back arched. Mouth open, a mist flew inside her -- surrounding, squeezing her heart.Something -- someone -- rocked inside her, consuming her from the inside out. Eating her whole."Get out. Damn you, get out." Arms flailing, she bucked against the weight inside her. "Get out."Shadows flew out of her mouth.Marie screamed."Heh, you're not going crazy on me, are you? Not getting wild, are you?"He had a lovely smile. Skin, smooth as espresso; eyes, obsidian black."You wish," she exhaled, trembling. "Get me a drink. Please."He reached for her warm, waterlogged scotch."No, cold. There's beer in the fridge." She didn't watch him go. Didn't watch his panther strut. She'd hoped he'd be a good-enough lover so she wouldn't dream, hallucinate, or whatever the hell her mind was doing.She reached for her robe, catalogued her vitals -- pulse elevated, breath ragged; her hands, the top of her lip, moist with sweat.Always the same. Same dream. Same moment of awakening.Marie shuddered. The dream always seemed real.Crotch moist, she'd wanted to swallow him whole. Wanted to be loved so well, she didn't have any weird dreams. She'd thought about saying "no" to a condom, hoping flesh upon flesh would banish dreams. Hauntings.But she knew better. Knew how sperm impregnated egg, seen cells dividing in a petri dish. Seen, too, a virus leeching on cells, devouring them, destroying in its wake. Seen plenty of young men, as beautiful as him, turn skeletal. Eyes sunken into bone. Seen young women, jaws slack, transfixed by nothingness."Brought you a Coors.Bien?""Sure.""Brought you