Butcher of the Bayou

Part 1

It was a perfect and permanent flood. That was the bayou.

Cypress is a town layered with secrets. And Fleur Claxton sees the ghosts that seep through the thick Southern air. The sun beat down on the pavement, and the grass sagged under the heat. To those of us who called the Bayou home, this was a normal summer. But to the FBI agents surrounding the scene, it was as if they were melting before my very eyes. Their stiff white collars soaked thru with sweat. The air, moist and far from fresh, was suffocating them.

I stood there as they melted on trembling legs. I watched as the second body was dragged out of the bayou.  It was unrecognizable to everyone but me.

I knew.

Even with the bite marks and skin that was bloated and bruised.

I knew.

Sissy Moore, age sixteen. Dark hair and petite, just like the other girl they found a few weeks back.

I wanted to run home, but my feet were rooted in the earth. I felt this morbid need to see all the damage to the body. To know what was done by the gators and what was done by the devil.

They laid her out on a white sheet. I only got a glimpse before they covered what was left of her. But what I saw will haunt me. The rope still bound her hands together. Sissy was missing several fingers. Bitten off, I would imagine. Her right leg is gone from the knee down. Her face was disfigured but not from anything living in the swamp. That was the devil's work.

"Fleur, what are you doing out here?" Sheriff Reids asks with a disapproving look. The lines of the sun leaving their marks on his face—weather like rough leather. His stern eyes bore down on me, waiting.

"I was just on my way to see Papa Shango." It's not a full lie; I do need to stop by his shop before the sun sets.

"Is your mama's headaches back?" I nod and try to make my face that of a sad girl whose mother is ill.

"You should take her to see a real doctor and leave the voodoo where it belongs. Now go on, get out of here. This is no place for a young girl."

I huff and do as I am told. There is nothing for me to see now, anyhow. The white tent has been erected around the scene—the forensics in their suits are the only ones going in.

The pavement soon turns to dirt under my feet as I make my way to Papa Shango's—a small shack down by the water. Several alligators hiss as I walk by. "Was it one of you who ate Sissy's leg?" I pick up and rock and throw it at the largest. He slowly disappears under the murky water, only his eyes visible.

"Come see, cher; leave them gators alone before they make a meal out of you."

I follow Papa Shango's voice to behind the shack. He is sitting on a chair with suspicious legs. It looks as if they would buckle at any moment. Papa Shango isn't a small man by any means. He taps his staff against my leg. The bones that adore it clacking together.

"You here for your momma's tonic Boo?"

"Yes, papa, she is in a bad way today; hasn't got out of bed all morning."

Papa Shango stands at full height, well over six feet tall. I crane my neck back to meet his gaze. His milky blue eyes look me over from head to toe. "You done been hanging around some nasty spirits. Come on, I got your momma's medicine all ready."

Papa Shango knows things the rest of us are not privy to. He communes with the other side. I think he knows who the killer is but isn't able to say or won't say for fear of making enemies on the other side. Spirits can be nasty little things if you cross them.

I follow him into the shack; the burning of incense stings my nose and has my eyes watering something fierce. Through my watery vision, I see an animal heart, probably a pig's, sitting in a jar perched atop the wooden counter. I approach the counter, running my finger along the deep groves carved in the wood.

"What is this for?" My curiosity overcame me before I remembered my manners.

"That old thing. Just a little Gris Gris, is all." He smiled, all yellow teeth on full display, and I knew, but that didn't stop me from asking. "Will it stop whoever is doing the killing?"

He holds out the little black bottle, and I place the money on the counter before taking it from his outstretched hand. His skin is dark and coarse as a gator's hide.

"Boo, you best be on your way. I'm expecting some out-of-town folks from the city."

I nod my head and exit, but not before glancing back at that heart. I hope it does work and nobody else gets killin.