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He wrapped his strong, tattooed arms around me, kissed the top of my head, and held me close. After some time, his hold loosened slightly, and I realized he’d fallen asleep again. His soft snores vibrated his chest beneath me, telling me I was indeed correct.
In the quiet night, my dream came back to me, and I knew I needed to call my grandson. A sense of foreboding seemed to shimmer in the swamp that night, seeping into my skin and making my bones ache. I worried about what it meant. Because if my dream had any truth to it, there was something coming that Ogun and his brothers needed to brace themselves for.
Something they’d never dealt with before.
As the sun began to lift, the mist still hovering over the swamp, I bid goodbye to my love. Pensive, I watched as his small boat was swallowed by the ghostly mist.
I swiftly walked up the short dock and rushed into my cozy little house. Pushing through the beaded curtains, I entered my sanctuary and set about preparing my things. Then I knelt at the small altar, lit the appropriate candles, poured the contents of a worn velvet pouch onto the red silk cloth. My silver and beaded bracelets tinkled on my wrist, and my rings glinted in the candlelight as I sifted through to choose what I needed.
After several hours, I had my answers—and they worried me more.
Pulling my cellphone from the drawer, I set up the little system my love and Jameson had brought to me so I had a signal. Then I dialed a number I knew by heart.
“Granmé.” My grandson’s rich voice still held the barest hint of his bayou accent. At least to my ears he did. “To what do I owe this pleasure? Are you coming to visit again?”
“Unfortunately, no, but you can send my great-grandson down to me anytime,” I replied with a fond smile, forgetting the pressing need for but a moment.
“What’s up?” he asked, and I could tell by the change in his voice that he knew this wasn’t simply a social call.
“You need to make a trip.”
“Are you okay? It will take me a bit to get there, but I can send Yeti or Jameson out to you until I make it down to you.” He was immediately grim.
“It’s not to me. Nor do I need that beau diablo or your grandfather out here for this. You need to go to Texas. Immediately.”
“Umm, Granmé, Texas is a big fucking place.” He chuckled as if this were a laughing matter.
My ire rose at his flippancy. “Language! And listen.” I proceeded to tell him everything I’d seen. By the time I was finished, there was stunned silence on the other line.
“Ogun?” I asked, worried I’d lost signal. When he didn’t answer, I checked to see my call was still active. When I saw it was, I snapped “Voodoo!” a name I never called him.
“Sorry, I’m digesting. Holy shit. Are you sure?” he asked.
“No question,” I confirmed, ignoring his curse word that time.
“Fuck,” he muttered, but I left that one alone too, because I was right there with him. There was only one explanation as to why I’d never seen her before. I prayed I read the dream correctly. If I hadn’t, I could be setting my grandson up for one of the worst battles of his life. In the end, I went with my gut feeling.
“I cannot stress enough that time is of the essence, my boy.”
“On it. Love you.”
“I love you too, Ogun.”
I prayed that this didn’t go wrong.
