Gris Gris sat behind an old wooden desk in a double-wide, ladder-back chair at the rear of the room. He probably claimed that both the chair and desk were antiques, but Shauna would have bet her own shop that both came from Goodwill.

The chair creaked as he rocked, his eyes ever watchful as customers picked up and examined different items. He appeared quite content, like someone who had discovered the secret to peace while still living in a chaotic world. Either that, or someone really stoned who lived in total oblivion. He wore a long-sleeved, billowing white shirt and heaven only knew what else, because the rest of him was hidden under the desk. Shauna wasn’t surprised to find that seeing Gris Gris up close was no different than seeing him from afar. He looked the same—ugly. His eyes, nose and mouth were too small for his face, and his fingers looked like stubby, albino sausages, and he smelled…moldy.

Like Gris Gris didn’t have enough going for him, the boa constrictor served as the pièce de résistance. Only rarely, if ever, did anyone see Gris Gris without that six-foot boa draped about his neck, and either one or both of Gris Gris’ hands were always in motion, stroking, petting the snake as it slowly coiled its tail up, then relaxed it. Its head and at least a third of its body would undulate over Gris Gris’ rotund stomach. The sight was not for the faint of heart—or stomach.

Using subtle body language and eye signals, Shauna and Danyon made up their minds to stall in the front section of the shop and wait for most, if not all, of the customers to leave before they confronted him. They pretended to be looking at the different pictures and masks that hung on the wall.

“Remember, you’re leaving this guy to me,” Danyon whispered, when they found a moment of privacy.

Shauna nodded, felt her face grow hot and knew she must have been blushing different shades of crimson from embarrassment. She didn’t blame him for wanting to handle Gris Gris after the way she had dealt with Big Frank Macina.

“Well, Ms. MacDonald, what a pleasant surprise,” Gris Gris said, when she and Danyon finally approached his desk. The boa lifted its yellow-striped head, as if curious to see who Gris Gris was addressing. “Mmm…and who’s your handsome friend?” he asked.

Surprised by the lecherous look Gris Gris was giving Danyon, she said, “This is Danyon Stone. Danyon, this…” She paused, realizing she didn’t know Gris Gris’ real name, then decided to use what she did know. “This is Papa Gris Gris.”

“Charmed,” Gris Gris said, and held out a hand.

Danyon didn’t reach for it.

Gris Gris retracted his hand slowly, resumed petting the boa in long slow strokes and smiled.

“How may I help the two of you this evening?” Gris Gris asked Shauna.

“We need some information from you,” Danyon said.

Gris Gris rested his head against the back of his chair and rocked steadily. “And what information might that be, Mr. Stone?”

Danyon stared at the fat man, and Gris Gris returned the stare. They held eye contact for so long, Shauna thought both had fallen into a trance.

“I think you already know what kind of information I’m looking for,” Danyon finally said.

Gris Gris laughed. “Well, I must admit that my psychic abilities are indeed acute, but, unfortunately, not in every situation or circumstance.”

“Oh, I don’t think you have to be a psychic to know this.”

Gris Gris grinned, rocked back, then said, “Mr. Stone, please do get to the point. As you can see, I have customers to tend to. If you insist on playing these guessing games, I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

Shauna was standing at Danyon’s side, and she felt the muscles in his arms tense against her body. No question he wanted to punch the fat man square in the face. She had to admit that she was curious to see how Danyon was going to handle this. Gris Gris was human. Wolven, vampires, and shape-shifters maintained an unspoken rule—they didn’t openly admit their true nature to a human. If Danyon found out Gris Gris was involved in the wolven deaths, however, she was confident he would make an exception to that rule.

“I’m certain you’ve heard that there have been three murders recently,” Danyon said.

Gris Gris arched a brow. “Really? Three—is that all?”

Danyon scowled. “How dare you—”

“Oh, Mr. Stone, relax. You take life much too seriously. I do watch the news you know. Since Katrina, it’s common knowledge that New Orleans is viewed as one of the top five cities in America with the highest murder rate per capita.”

“The three I’m talking about happened not far from here.”

“I see,” Gris Gris said. “And your point?”

Danyon’s face grew darker. “I was curious as to whether you had heard anything about them. Knew any information about the murders.”

“Now why would I be privy to such information?” Gris Gris asked.

Danyon allowed a long pause to follow Gris Gris’ question before answering, “It’s often surprising what some people are privy to.”

A light twinkled in Gris Gris’ eyes. “Very true, Mr. Stone.” He glanced around Danyon to Shauna. “Do forgive me for not asking earlier, Shauna, but how are your sisters, Fiona and Caitlin?”

“They’re well, thank you,” Shauna said.

“And your business? Thriving I hope?”

Shauna answered with a curt nod.

“Splendid. I’m so glad to hear it.”

“Excuse me, are y’all in line?” Two middle-aged women wearing matching floral dresses stepped up behind Danyon. One was sweating profusely and fanning herself with a small piece of cardboard.

“Yes, we are,” Danyon said sharply, and both women stepped back immediately.

“I’m sorry… I apologize for…we didn’t mean to interrupt,” the woman with the fan said hastily. “I wanted to make an appointment for a reading and thought the gentleman sitting behind the desk was the person I needed to make the appointment with.”

“I am indeed, and you may,” Gris Gris said to her, then narrowed his eyes at Danyon.

No one moved.

“If you will excuse me, Mr. Stone—Ms. MacDonald. I have clients who need my assistance—paying clients.”

Shauna slid a hand into the front pocket of her jeans, pulled out two twenty-dollar bills and tossed them on the desk. “Yes, you do indeed have paying clients.”

With a slight shake of his head and roll of his eyes, Gris Gris turned to the two women. “Ladies, I will be happy to assist you as soon as I’m done with these…two.”

The woman without the fan suddenly gasped. “Oh, my word—it moved! Is that a real snake around your neck?”

Gris Gris smiled broadly and stroked the boa. Even his teeth were too small for his head. “Oh, yes, Simone is quite real. Isn’t she lovely?”

Danyon cleared his throat loudly.

Gris Gris tsked, “Ladies, if you will excuse us—and in exchange for your patience, I would like to offer you a free tour of our voodoo museum, which is right at the top of that stairwell. Please, take your time and enjoy the artifacts. I am certain my business here will conclude…” His eyes fell on Danyon. “…shortly.”

The women thanked him profusely and headed up the stairs.

Once they were out of sight and hearing range, Gris Gris’ calm, nonchalant demeanor abruptly changed.

“All right, what do you want, Stone? Why are you here busting my balls like this? I’ve never done anything to you. Hell, I don’t even know you.”

Shauna did a double take. The few times she had heard Gris Gris speak, his high-brow style and diction had been superfluous. His sudden “home-boy” talk took her aback.

“I can only guess what else you’re faking,” Danyon said to him. “But what I really want is more information about the new product line you’ve got out on the street right now.”

Gris Gris frowned. “What are you talking about?”

“The name ‘lacodah’ mean anything to you?”

As hard as Gris Gris worked to keep his expression neutral, Shauna noticed the flicker of surprise in his eyes.

“I don’t have the slightest idea what you’re talking about, man.”

“Yeah? Well, there are a couple people on the street telling me different.”

“What’s with you? You a cop?”

“No, but I know quite a few.”

“What the hell does that have to do with anything? I don’t know anything about no locodi, Bonighnigh, whatever the hell you called it.”

“That’s strange,” Danyon said. “Because the way I’ve heard it on the street, you’re the man and the direct connection to it.”

“I don’t know who you talked to, and I really don’t give a damn. All I know is you’ve got the wrong person.”

Simone, apparently sensing Gris Gris’ growing agitation, began undulating rapidly, the bottom half of her body coiling in tighter. Her tail curled around Gris Gris’ neck, the tip of it overlapping her head.

“It’s all right, baby,” Gris Gris said, stroking her head calmly. “Daddy’s fine. These bad people are going away now. It’s okay.” As he petted her and spoke soothingly, Simone began to relax, her tail dropping away from around Gris Gris’ neck. “There you go…you’re such a sweetheart.”

When Simone had calmed completely, her head gently bobbing from side to side, Gris Gris looked up at Danyon.

“As I was saying, Mr. Stone. Feel free to search this place. Call the police if you must. But if I may offer one piece of advice, as in any area of life, you should always be careful about what you ask for and look for. Because you just might find it.”

Chapter 19

“I’d call today a bust,” Danyon said, leaning against the grave of Gustav Henry. They were sitting in St. Louis I Cemetery, across the street from Gris Gris’. They had hit a stalemate. At the moment, keeping an eye out for any unusual activity coming in or going out of Gris Gris’ shop, anything that might direct them toward their next move, was about all they could do.