“Put it this way, if I were you, I’d try this first. You might be surprised by its power.” She held the sack out to me. “And if your haunt still persists, you know it’s time to bust out the bigger guns, right?”
“I guess,” I managed. “What is this exactly?” I ran my thumb across the soft material, wondering if whatever was inside could really get rid of any bad energy in my house.
“It’s a ritual bag,” she repeated. “It’s created by one of our local spiritualists and each one is charged to cure whatever ails you. The Dark Moon ritual bag, which is the one you’re holding, releases negative energy. You can also use it for banishing unwanted connections, which, in your case, would be whatever malevolent entity is haunting your house. It calls on the moon for lunar protection. So just be sure you use it when the moon is waning.”
“When the moon is what?” I asked as all hope that I might rid my house of any malevolent ghosts promptly disappeared. I had no clue what a “waning moon” was, which meant we were already off to a bad start…
“Waning,” she repeated with a hurried smile, like she had more important things to do and my time was nearing its end.
“What does that mean?” I demanded, following her.
“A waning moon means the moon decreases in size as it moves from the full moon toward the new moon. The waning moon is the best time to use magic to banish or release energy. That’s why it works with the Dark Moon ritual bag,” she added before a big smile lit up her round face. “And, guess what?”
“I also get a set of vacuum bags to go with it?” I asked facetiously, regretting it as soon as her eyebrows met in the middle. Luckily, though, she dismissed the apparently unfunny comment and continued.
“It must be your lucky day because the moon will be waning this evening. That’s perfect timing for your ritual.”
“Oh, good,” I answered genuinely, because the last thing I wanted to do was wait any longer—I wanted the house cleansed, like, yesterday. When she started moving toward the rear of the store, I followed her again, because I still wasn’t sure what in the hell I was supposed to do with my Dark Moon ritual bag. “So, uh, how does the bag work?” I demanded. “What am I supposed to do with it?”
She turned around and pasted a less genuine smile on her face. “There are directions inside. But basically all ritual bags are filled with herbs, flowers, resins, crystals, ritual salts, sage, and a gris-gris. You just fill your empty mojo bag, which is also included, with whatever items you need in your ritual spell.”
A mojo bag? Was that a joke? I took a deep breath and exhaled, shaking my head and wondering what in the hell I’d just gotten myself into. “What’s a green-green?” I asked, not remembering the way she’d just pronounced the word.
She swallowed and there was a slight twitch in her left eye, which hinted that she was growing impatient with all my questions. “Gris-gris,” she started, enunciating the word and giving me a snide look as if to say, you pronounce it gree-gree, stupid, “is a huge part of New Orleans voodoo.”
“Okay.”
“It’s basically a small bag that you fill with magical ingredients for whatever purpose you’re after,” she finished. She turned her back toward me again as the sounds of footsteps announced that she had more customers. As soon as she saw she had an out, she left me standing there like an ugly dog with fleas, halitosis, and gas. I frowned but, figuring this was all the help I was going to get, worked my way up to the register where she rang me up as quickly as humanly possible.
As soon as I stepped onto the sidewalk, my cell phone rang. Reaching into my purse, I saw Ryan’s name on the caller ID. “Hi,” I said.
“Hey, neighbor, what are you doin’?”
I glanced up at Marie Laveau’s and sighed. I didn’t have a good feeling about everything that had just happened. Call me lazy, unimaginative, or just plain stupid, but I was really hoping someone would do the cleansing for me. “Um, I bought a ritual bag to cleanse my house of any negative energy that might have been left over after the Ouija board incident.”
He chuckled. “Nice.”
“So, what’s up?” I asked as I wondered why he was calling me. It was Saturday, so it wasn’t like he was working at my house and might have questions for me. No, this had to be a social call…well, maybe. Hopefully.
“Oh, I, uh, wanted to ask you if you’d be up for a dinner date this evening?” His voice was hopeful, but calm all the same. Didn’t this guy possess a nerve in his body? I had to smile as I thought if the tables were turned and I was the one asking him out, I’d be a nervous wreck. But not Ryan. Nope, he was the epitome of composed and collected.
I wanted to immediately say yes, that I would love nothing more than to go out on a date with him, until I remembered the waning moon, my haunted house, my mojo, and my bag of grease, or whatever the hell it was called. “I would love to, but I have to do this ritual thing tonight while there’s a waning moon.”
“If I didn’t know better, I’d say that was the king of all disinterest lines,” Ryan said with another chuckle.
“No, I’m being serious. I really have to do this ritual thing tonight while there’s still a waning moon out…before it crosses the sky and becomes new or whatever.”
“As opposed to a waxin’ moon?” I could tell he was shaking his head as if he were at a loss, like he often did in my company.
“I guess,” I answered with a little laugh. “I’m so confused about all of this stuff, I have no idea what I’m doing…waning, waxing…and what in the hell is a new moon?”
“You got me.” He was quiet for a few seconds. “Well, does your wanin’ moon ritual require that you be alone? Or can you have company?”
I shrugged because I didn’t know the answer. “I guess I can have company. I mean, the super-informative and helpful girl working at the House of Voodoo didn’t say anything about me needing to do the spell or whatever the hell it is alone.” And the truth was, I much preferred the idea of having Ryan with me. At least that way if something went wrong, I’d have the large barbarian there to protect me…
“Okay, let’s have dinner first and then we’ll do your ritual,” he said, a smile lighting up his voice. “Sound like a plan?”
I couldn’t restrain my happy smile. “Sure, sounds like a plan, Stan.”
Ryan picked me up from the Omni hotel at seven p.m. for our 7:15 dinner reservation. He was dressed in dark jeans, black dress shoes, and a light-blue short-sleeved button-up, which made his olive complexion appear even tanner. I’d never seen him dressed to impress before, and impressed was an understatement. He was stunningly handsome. And showing up with a dozen red roses was merely icing on the cake.
When I opened the door, he didn’t say anything for a while, but simply looked me up and down before smiling broadly. “Wow, Peyton, you really look lovely…no, you look beautiful,” he corrected himself and handed me the flowers. “These pale in comparison.”
The roses actually did pale in comparison (well color comparison anyway) because I was dressed in a dark crimson fitted dress that ended just above my knees. The bodice was low and tight and did wonders for my bust. I’d accessorized with four-inch black strappy stilettos and pulled my hair into a chignon. I thought I looked the part of sexy and glamorous mixed with classy and feminine.
I immediately smelled the flowers and beamed up at him. “Thank you, Ryan, that was really nice of you.” Then I turned toward my makeshift kitchen, and eyeing a large glass tumbler, went for it. I released the doorknob and called over my shoulder, “Come in while I put these in water.”
Ryan obeyed, closing the door behind him as I filled the glass and arranged the roses inside it, admiring them as I turned back toward him. I was more than a little surprised to find him right behind me. “Oh,” I started, taking a step back.