Night Magic (31 page)

"Mais Jamais! Go! Go way from here, gal!"
Monmon Odette scuttled backwards into the house like a crab.

"Contre la force y a pas de resistance. You
cannot fight me and win now." Savannah spoke calmly.

LaShaun seemed unable to move, her eyes wide
and unblinking. Laughing, Savannah pointed first at the house, then
at the two women. As if in no hurry, she went to her car. Throwing
one last disdainful glance their way, Savannah left.

*****

"What does it mean, Nenaine?" Savannah sat in
the sunny kitchen of her godmother. She gazed about her in wonder
at how different the world looked now.

"You feel what it mean, cher." Nenaine nodded
slowly.

"Colors look sharper. Conversations, the way
people move all have messages deeper than what's on the surface.
You know what I'm saying?" Savannah shook her head as though
dissatisfied with her descriptions.

"You seein' clear now, Savannah."

"Something weird happened at LaShaun's house
today. I went over there to psyche her out. Then..." Savannah
groped for words.

"Then a power came out you wasn't expectin',
heh? Didn't even believe." Nenaine set a cup of herbal tea in front
of Savannah and eased her wide hips into the wooden chair next to
her.

"Superstition and the power of suggestion,
that's what I would have said six months ago. But now--"

"Voodoo been 'round long time, yeah. Come
from over in Africa. It's a healin' thing, cher. To bring you in
tune with your spirit. Them old ones in Africa, they understand
'bout how Le Bon Dieu use nature and spirits to deal with mankind.
We what know the true voodoo, know it a religion. Healin' religion,
cher." Nenaine spoke in a soft, intense way. Her eyes glowed.

"Nothing has ever been said about LaShaun and
Monmon Odette using voodoo to heal, always to hurt others."
Savannah frowned as though seeing the two malevolent women before
her.

"There's a good and evil side to everything
on this earth. Monmon Odette and her Monmon, on back for
generations been using some of the spirits that way, true. Nothin'
but evil come of that, cher. They is a high price to pay. Look at
the grief they done had."

"Then why couldn't my mama be healed,
Nenaine?" Savannah said in a small voice. Her lip trembled.

"I don't know, child. Done studied it a long
time. Sometime we just ain't gone know the way of God. One thing,
Therese soul at rest. We done the ceremony an' we got the sign.
Therese is at rest, cher." Nenaine covered Savannah's hand with
hers.

"Thank you, Nenaine." Savannah gripped her
hand. Tears flowed down her cheeks, but these were tears of relief.
Deep within she sensed the truth of Nenaine's words and found great
comfort knowing that her mother was indeed at peace.

*****

At last Savannah felt free of the cloud if
fear that had hovered over her since childhood. Since the
confrontation with LaShaun and Monmon Odette, the dark nightmares
had ended. So did her dread of unseen forces, of voodoo. Strangely,
she felt comfortable knowing that not all things could be neatly
defined. She felt connected to these forces in a way she found it
hard to explain. Tante Marie and Nenaine had been right all
along.

And with Teedy and Boo-Man facing stiff
sentences, she felt no human threat hanging over her. She could
almost be happy now. Almost. A longing, hollow feeling lingered.
Knowing that Paul was still in Beau Chene was even more agonizing.
At every turn she expected, wanted to see him. Yet dreaded it,
too.

"He's packing up to leave," Charice said soon
after Savannah answered the phone.

"Who?" Savannah put on her best flippant
tone.

"You know who. You really want to let him go
like this?"

"For the hundredth time, it's over. I'm not
going to crawl or beg his pardon. And how do you know he's
leaving?"

"Sam told me last night. He's going back to
Crowley then--"

"Fine. Where he goes is his concern, not
mine."

"Just thought I'd give it one more shot."

"I know you're trying to help, but it's no
good. Hey wait a minute, what this about you and Sam being together
last night?"

"Well..." Charice stammered.

"Well nothing. You pretended like he wasn't
your type, like you didn't even like him. All the time you were
moving in on the poor sucker. Bet you reeled him in before he had a
chance to put up even a little bit of a struggle."

"Honey, he thinks it was all his idea! Which
is fine by me. I could tell that if I had shown too much interest,
he would have bolted like a jack rabbit. So, I just played it cool.
Let him make up his own mind."

"But you knew he wanted you, girl," Savannah
teased.

"There it is," Charice twittered.

"Seriously, I'm happy for you. He seems like
a really good person."

"He is. And good with the girls, too."

"That's great. Before you say anymore,"
Savannah said in a rush cutting her off, "I'm going to be just
fine, okay? Now when I see you Saturday I want all of the juicy
details, don't hold anything back."

Savannah went back into the den after saying
goodbye. Despite what she had said to Charice, the reality that
Paul was at that moment preparing to leave hit her hard. Once more
she turned to work brought home as a way to escape the hurt.

*****

"Can I get you something?" Claude stood at
the handsome bar mixing himself a drink.

"No thanks. I'll be driving tonight,” Paul
replied.

Paul took in the large second floor executive
office. It was opulent with rich rosewood tables, dark red leather
chairs, and a large window overlooking a creek behind the office
building. He had only been on the first floor and hadn't realized
that Claude kept this office for himself. There was another
elevator leading to this large suite from a covered parking lot
behind the building.

"So, you’re leaving then? Singleton had
mentioned you might be." Claude sat in the large chair next to
him.

"Well, my work is through. No reason to stay
really." Paul stared out of the window.

"I see." Claude took a long sip of the amber
liquid. "Have you given any thought to the contract? Surely your
lawyer has examined it thoroughly enough by now."

"Yes."

"And?"

"The contract provisions are fine. But my
partner and I-- we've decided we have our hands full already."

"The money would allow you to hire more
people to do the extra work. Think of the contacts you would make."
Claude put the drink down on the low table between them.

"We have contacts now. We'll expand but in
another year or so."

"This isn't about being too busy to take on
more or not wanting to expand. You've been actively seeking new
ventures, new technologies to make your services attractive to more
companies. You'll be leaving for Kuwait soon. And you've been in
touch with..." Claude went to the large desk and opened a brown
folder, "A California company called Enviro-Tech about a new type
of sponge for cleaning up oil spills."

"That information isn't in the company
materials we provided to you or the university." Paul's brows drew
together. "Where did you get it?"

"We did some checking on our own naturally
since we wanted more-- detail. The point is this contract fits
right in with where you want to go. So what's the real reason for
your refusal?" Claude turned.

After a long pause, Paul looked up at him
with a stern set to his jaw. "The way you do business."

"The way we do business is no different from
any other large successful corporation in this state, or this
country for that matter." Claude waved a hand dismissing his
objection.

"Not all of them, and not mine for sure. Back
door deals with politicians and public officials willing to
sacrifice the health of their constituents; definitely business
practices I want no part of." Paul said, a hard edge in his
voice.

"Don't be naive or too hasty to pass
judgment. Those politicians and public officials are smart enough
to know that we are their constituents as well." Claude sat back
down smiling at him indulgently. He was the picture of calm, secure
in his position in social order. "Our interests are as valid as a
whining group of malcontents who can't possibly contribute to the
economy what we can. They would starve without us."

"Those malcontents as you call them pay
taxes, have jobs, and contribute to the economy as much or more.
But even if they didn't, they have a right to expect that
businesses have some controls on what they can do in the name of
profit." Paul said, distaste evident in his tone.

"Those profits go to salaries, expansions,
community projects, scholarships to help those same people who are
screaming into the reporters’ microphones. They resent us for being
who we are, what we are. Yes we live well. Sure, why shouldn't we?
We're the brains, drive and guts that make things happen." Claude
jabbed a finger in the air between them.

"And what about safety, the environment?"
Paul asked.

"Big business has pioneered industrial
safety, including protecting the environment. But things have gone
too far with this radical environmentalism. Besides, great strides
mean taking risks."

"Yeah, as long as the risks are taken by
someone else. I must have been crazy to think you were genuinely
interested in ways to reduce toxic emissions or prevent spill. What
you really want is to find ways to fool the public into thinking
you are doing more than you are, to find ways to cut corners so
your profit margin won't be affected." Paul stared out the window
again, the hard look on his face made plain that he would not
accept Claude's words.

"Paul, this is senseless." Claude spread his
arms wide to him in a plea for understanding. "I'm not the evil
industrial robber baron you make me out to be. You’re more like me
than you care to admit. Certainly profit is important. You didn't
get where you are by not keeping your eye on the bottom line.
You're smart, your father knew your potential. He saw to it that
you got the best education possible by doing extra jobs as a paint
contractor. You've got both his backbone and your grandmother's
brains, don't waste them by throwing away this opportunity."

"What did you just say?" Paul's head jerked
up.

"This is the opportunity of a life-time,
don't--"

"No, about my father and grandmother. What do
you know about my family?"

"Everything."

"You investigated my family as well." Paul
eyes narrowed as he looked at the thick folder. Striding to the
desk, he leaned forward and yanked the file to him. Scanning a few
pages, he looked up. "I guess I shouldn't be surprised." He slapped
it back down in front of Claude.

"Did she ever mention me?" Claude said
softly.

"No. Never." Paul was curt, not caring about
his feelings. "Only in a diary. When you didn't try to find her,
she realized she'd been used."

"That wasn't true. Things were... difficult."
Claude placed a hand on the folder.

"Don't bother to explain. She was the maid,
you sowed some wild oats, it happened a lot back then I hear." Paul
sneered. He turned away to leave.

"You listen to me young man," Claude shouted
standing up, "I cared for Marguerite. She was fine and beautiful.
She saw the reality of our situation. We both did. Maybe I could
have shown more backbone, but I did the only thing I could for
those times. But well, there was too much at stake. We were both so
young. My future--"

"Yes, your future as the heir apparent. After
all what did she have to lose compared to you?" Paul turned back to
face him.

"Believe me, there have been long nights when
I couldn't sleep because of missing her." Claude rubbed his eyes.
He looked tired and older.

"Yeah, just not enough to give up the family
name or a little of the family money to keep her from
starving."

"My father wouldn't allow it when she refused
the money for an abortion. I had no money of my own to give."
Claude shook his head.

"You make me sick. You had money from your
grandmother. Oh yes, I know more than you think. You could have
done more and I'm sure you knew where she was all along, didn't
you?"

"Paul, I--"

"That's what I thought." Paul turned from him
in repulsion.

"I don't want us to part in anger. Maybe I
was foolish to think that we could be close. I even thought maybe I
could talk to your father." Claude said.

"Stay away from him. He doesn't want anything
to do with you." Paul became anxious imagining the effect of such a
meeting on Charles."You're fifty years too late."

"You're right. But that doesn't mean we can't
continue our business relationship. Batton Chemical is your future,
son." Claude studied him.

"I won't let you put lives in danger. Don't
think because all the fuss dies down, those procedures and changes
I recommended can be abandoned. I'll be watching. What's more, I'll
tell the Citizens for a Clean environment what to look for, too."
He returned Claude's steady gaze with one just as unwavering.

"I see." Claude's face became hard as though
chiseled of stone.

"Seems we have nothing else to discuss." Paul
went to the private elevator and jabbed the button.

"Where do you think you've gotten most of
your business for the past three years?" Claude barked. "I made you
and I can break you. Think about it long and hard, boy. You're
father is sick and those medical bills are piling up. You've been
able to help them out more than your brothers, who live from
paycheck to paycheck. Both of whom happen to work at plants
operated by ChemCo. The CEO and I go way back, old fraternity
brothers actually. Neither you nor your family can afford for you
to... make the wrong business decision when it comes to this."