Blackwater Parish

Prologue and Chapter One of an urban fantasy on the bayou, set in a fictional parish where Cajun, Creole, and ancient Catholic tradition push up against each other.

Prologue

Amanda Walthers pointed desperately at the black and white photo again. “It’s them, don’t you see? It’s Jason and Jessica.”

Sheriff Danners picked it up and inspected it for a third time. He said nothing.

Deputy Ivers was a little more direct. “Ms. Walthers, we’ve been over this before.”

“But this is new evidence. I just found it yesterday! That woman in the doorway, she had them, she took them.”

Ivers shook his head. “Ma’am, Jason and Jessica died in a fire. You remember that, right, Ms. Walthers? It was that cold streak last winter. A space heater must have sparked. Took the whole house. You and your husband made it out, but he...”

“I’m not crazy!” Amanda snarled at the deputy. “I remember the fire. But those are my children. See the burns on Jason’s stuffed animal, the soot on Jessica’s forehead?”

The sheriff exhaled as if he’d been holding in a thought for too long. “Looks a little like the old Cooper farmhouse.”

Ivers looked at him in surprise. “But sir, that place has been deserted for years. And that picture looks like it’s a hundred years old.”

“Yep.” He said slowly. “Yeah, it does. Still... think I might take a drive by there. See what I can see. That alright with you, Amanda?”

The grieving mother nodded. “Yes. Thank you, sheriff. Thank you for taking me seriously.”

“Deputy, you mind seeing Amanda home? Don’t think she’s in any shape to drive right now.”

Deputy Ivers nodded, understanding at last. Of course, humoring the woman was the best way to diffuse the situation. They would “look into it” and Ms. Walthers would calm down, maybe get back on her medicine or stop drinking so much.

Sheriff Danners took the picture and went back to his office. He pulled out the .38 special he kept in his drawer and checked the chamber. Four bullets left. He waited till he heard the outer door click, signaling the young deputy and the distraught mother were gone. For a brief moment, he wanted to put the revolver to his own temple, pull the trigger, be done with it. Those feelings always came with cases like this. Instead, he tucked the gun into his ankle holster.

He picked up the phone and dialed the number. There was static on the line for the first three rings, then a click. No voice answered, only breathing.

“Damn it,” Danners said. “We’ve got another one. I thought you said we finished it last time.”

“Give a girl a minute to wake up. Another what exactly?”

Chapter One

I swirled my spoon in the coffee cup in front of me, partially out of boredom, partly because I didn’t trust the brew here. Guillory’s Diner had a reputation. Mostly, its reputation was as the only twenty-four hour greasy spoon in Blackwater Parish. Quality and food safety standards were not among the topics gossiped about.

I wasn’t waiting long when the door opened and Sheriff Danners stepped inside. It was nearly midnight and he was still in uniform, which told me a few things his phone call had forgot to mention. He tipped his hat at Thelma, put on his best politician smile to wave at a man in one of the booths, and made his way over to me. The smile disappeared completely as he slid in across from me. “La Gardienne.”

“Sheriff. Formal terms for this one?”

Danners sighed. “Damn it all, nobody explained all of this when I was running for office. What do you want to be called?”

“Courtney worked just fine for years, Sheriff.”

“That was before I found out about gardiennes and rougarous and Old One Eye and... whatever this is. Courtney was the new age flower power girl that made hippie dippie bullshit remedies for the farmer’s market. Not this.”

I shrugged. “A girl’s got to make a living somehow. My title only comes with a broken down F-150, two goats, and a house that barely qualifies as shelter.”

“You bought that arsenal of yours off of flea market money?”

“The ancient articles say I’m entitled to a sacred blade as needed. The bishops debate what that actually translates to.”

“Jesus fucking... sorry, I guess I shouldn’t say that around you, either.” He slid a photograph across the table, bypassing my coffee.

I wasn’t particularly religious myself, but I kept that lapse in faith quiet. Sheriff Danners had enough trouble wrapping his head around a church sponsored guardian of the parish as is. I looked at the picture. “Looks old. 80, 90 years. But it’s awfully clean for that age. Sharp image.”

“Yeah. Haven’t had any of that checked yet. It looks like it belongs in a grandma’s family album. But it was found yesterday. And the kids...like I told you on the phone.”

“They died last winter? How sure are you on that?”

“The fire was bad. I wasn’t on scene. But I’ve heard the horror stories. Whole house went up. They pulled out two charred skeletons. Nobody bothered to check to make sure they belonged to the kids, just kind of assumed. Dad died of smoke inhalation a few days later.”

I relaxed my eyes and looked beyond the picture, checking its aura for any hints of its origin. “How hard would it be to dig up the bodies and double check?”

“Fucking... Wish they served alcohol here. The mom is near fit for the ward at St. Christophe’s already, but she’ll sign off. But what the heck am I supposed to tell the coroner? That reporter, Jim Barnes, if he catches wind of any of this?”

“We need to know what we’re dealing with, sheriff. A poltergeist, wraith could torment a woman with a picture of dead kids. But if the bodies aren’t actually the kids... those are completely different options.” I hoped he didn’t push me on that one. I couldn’t think of anything that fit this specific set if circumstances, but there were enough things that liked to kidnap children I needed to consider the possibility the bodies recovered weren’t Jason and Jessica.

“Look, I’m pretty sure that’s the old Cooper place. Why don’t we just handle it like last time and go up there? Look around till something jumps out at us and then I fill it full of those bullets you gave me. No muss, no fuss, no court ordered exhumations.”

Either my aura sight was seriously off today... or this was just a plain old photograph. I didn’t like that option, but wasn’t sure why it bothered me. “The bodies, sheriff. We need to know if the kids are missing or if something is just messing with a grieving mother.”

“The voters of Blackwater Parish elected me, not you. I don’t even know who put you in charge of... whatever it is you’re in charge of.”

I shrugged and risked a swig of the coffee. “Louis the IX if you want to get technical about it.” Pause. “You called me, sheriff. I agree you’ve got something strange happening. But we need to know what it is before we run in guns blazing.”

He hung his head in defeat, the fluorescent lights of the diner shining off his bald spot. “Alright. Ill figure out how to dig those bodies up. You get me some ideas on how to kill whatever did this.”

Thanks so much for reading. I am super excited for this one and will be back with more next Thursday. Need more now? My Choose Your Own Adventure is here and runs on Saturdays. The Dragon and The Halfling runs on Tuesdays. Thank you so much to John Watson - Horror Author for the image prompt that started this engine.