Foretold

"Ma' sha, the cards say to me that soon, you will be gifted blessings, and there will be a man."

"A man?!" The young woman across the table shifted excitedly in her wicker seat, nearly upsetting the bundle of smudging sage that whispered a fragrant trail along the tops of her perched elbows. A dark hand shot forth, showing off a brilliant green bracelet of glass beads and a four leaf clover preserved in resin tied in place with a simple black cord, and he quickly stabalized the stone bowl it was nestled in before returning to trail the tip of a finger along the boldened edges of the upright Marassa card before him.

"Oui, sha. Destiny is arriving, I promise ya that. Ya wait is soon to be over. I see a man with a magnolia in hand, and he is certainly waitin' to meet ya."

Remy Bousquet was, for lack of a better term, gifted. Ever since he was a young boy, growing up in the Louisiana bayou, he felt a calling that stirred deep in his bones to bring forth the truth to all those who sought wisdom and fortune. He conducted tarot readings in the French Quarter with all manner of accuracy, so much so that the locals began calling him 'Beau Laveau'. While he'd not dabbled much into voodoo, the cards were always calling him to read for the weary, wandering, lost souls. Most of the young ladies that sought his guidance were seeking love, and this one was no different. He had hoped there might be a challenge.

The girl flew forth from her chair and both of her delicate hands clasped tightly to the young man's strong hand and she nearly used all of her strength to pump his hand with gratitude before teetering out of the tiny tarot shop and into the fresh night air, disappating the smoky atmosphere within the candlelit shop with the bang of the door behind her that caused him to jump with a start.

"Hm, the cards also be sayin' that I need to fix that door," he uttered under his breath as his hand cupped behind his table side candle and the dancing flame was extinguished with a breath. It would take Remy all of an hour to clean up the shop and straighten up his cards, sliding them into a black bag with crystals before arranging it in the window to bathe in the moon's cleansing beams to be ready for the next day. Soon, he'd be joining the rest of the French Quarter as he locked up the shop and stepped into the moonlight himself, dark eyes illuminated by the kiss of moonlight in the sky, giving off the hints of warm chocolate within his eyes.

As he walked, hands jammed into the pockets of breathable cotton pants, his long, thin shadow stretched out into the abyss. Remy was not entirely certain of his destination, but his mind began to wander toward his hardships and his struggles. He was blessed with a gift, yes, but it was limited to the flow of customers in his shop. If no one came for fortunes, he was never going to make enough money to keep doing this. He'd never considered using his connections to the Loa for help, but, at this time he was beginning to consider it.

Perhaps, it was time to pay her a visit.

These days it was prohibited to enter the St. Louis No 1 cemetary without a liscenced tour guide, and Remy was not one to break the law, so he sought out a tour group on the way to the grave site of the infamous Marie Laveau, the Voodoo Queen.

The steps of the tour group faded away on cobblestones long laid in holy ground, and Remy would slow his long stride, fingers sweeping along the steely edge of cast iron fences, seperating family from family. He hung back in the darkness as he gazed at the placard that read the name of Marie Laveau. In the air around him, he could feel as if she were watching him through the Loa. With a shaky breath, he knealt near her placard and spoke softly, "Good evenin', sha...I didn' know where else to turn with this question. I always wanted to read the cards for folks wanderin' through and turning them to ease through the Loa messages...but, times are different, sha. I'm not sure how I'm gon' afford this."

A breeze cut through the stillness and for a moment, a cold sweat crept across Remy's dark skin, creating a surface to reflect the moon into the shadows of the cemetary. He felt like his heart had leapt into his throat and hammered there, unrelenting in the shockwaves of fear it sent into the young man's blood. When nothing happened, he caught himself chuckling at himself before withdrawing a tube of lipstick from his pocket and leaving it for the Widow Paris, however when he turned on his heel to leave, he found his stride interrupted by the appiration of a bound, black book laid neatly between his feet on the cobblestones.

A thick brow rose in confusion as he stooped to lift the book between his fingers. Had he accidently kicked an offering? He didn't remember doing such, and knew that anything founf in a cemetary was either an offering, or a gris-gris...a curse, or a spell. However, it did not stop him from slowly sliding the black elastic back from the open edges of the book. With apprehension, he'd open the book with the soft crinkle of pages at the spine of the book sending a soft vibration through his fingertips. The first page had something written on it, and he would hold it toward the moonlight to make out the inscription, 'If Lost, Return to: Marie Laveau'. Another chill ran down his spine as shaking fingers turned the page, the pages appeared to be blank, and for a moment, he thought that this must have been someone's idea of a prank. Thick lips pursed together in disappointment as he prepared to throw the book away, but he stopped suddenly as an elegant scrawl began to form on the page beneath the moonlight.

'Wish granted.'

Every fiber of Remy's terrified body wanted to throw the book and whatever gris-gris was causing this back into the abyss. However, the longer he looked at the message, he felt this overwhelming calm and peaceful facade washing through him, as if he'd taken a long sip of whiskey and it was warming his insides. Was Mama Laveau looking out for him?

He took the book home with him, unable to sleep a wink due to the sheer excitement of the events that had unfolded before him and when the morning came at last, he found himself still thriving off the adrenaline. With a spring in his step, he found himself walking to his shop and unlocking the door in the light of the dawn's rays, however, when he opened the door, he found an envelope sitting on the wooden floor that had been slid under the door at some time during the night. Perplexed, Remy picked up the letter and opened it.

The letter was in fact from a previous client who had come to him for a love reading mearly a year ago, advising that she had met precisely the man he had told her was coming and that she had never forgotten his readings, or the hope that they gave her. While he was beyond happy that she would have thought to write him, enclosed with the letter was a picture of the woman with her new husband, smiling in their Sunday best...and a check for $20,000.

Marie listened.