“That’s a pretty picture, Ray. What did it look like from above?” I asked curiously. “Did the swamp appear any different?”
They glanced at each other for a moment as look of confusion passed over both their faces.
Ray’s eyes narrowed. “The funny thing is,” he said, scratching his head, “now that you ask, I can’t remember anything specific about it.” He looked to Naomi. “Do you remember?”
She shook her head. “Non, I do not. The only memory I have begins when we arrived at the boat. My mind won’t let me recall any other details. That’s very peculiar.”
“Do you think you could’ve landed there if you wanted to?” I asked. “Near the boat but on land?”
“I can answer that. I don’t believe they could have,” Marcy interjected. “The reason they don’t remember is because black magic messes with your senses, as well as your mind. The space we were in was clouded with spells and strange, lethal energy. A place like that is meant to keep unwanted supernaturals away. But if they persist, then once they leave, I bet she has a spell trigger, meant to wipe their memories clear of the location. For humans, the spells alone are strong enough to deter them from getting close in the first place.”
Danny uncorked the moonshine with a flourish. It made a big, thunking sound. “Well, if there was ever a time for a celebration, I believe it’s right at this very moment. I think cheers are in order for escaping our mystic jailer, don’t you?” He didn’t wait for a go-ahead. He simply tipped the jug back and took two long swallows.
“Be careful, big guy,” I called. “I can smell that stuff from here and I’m pretty sure it could take the finish off a floor.”
He brought it down and grimaced, running his forearm across his mouth. “Woo-eee! Those humans weren’t joking. It’s been a long while since I’ve had the pleasure of tasting authentic moonshine. But a long while back, when I was pursuing a Shenandoah beauty who lived in a quaint hollow—the one I so fondly recalled when we were unceremoniously dumped into those same mountains exiting the horrid portal from the Underworld—her family invited me over several times to partake in their brew. And this, my friends”—he shook the jug and the contents splashed out—“rivals it in every way. Care for a taste?” He thrust the moonshine behind his head to Tyler, who took it from him and sniffed, then grimaced as he took a swallow.
Naomi leaned in close to me as the jug made it around and Rourke continued to take us closer to my father. “I must ask you who called you a bèt nan bwa?”
My eyebrows rose. “You heard that?” I was surprised. The voice had sounded like nothing more than a whisper in my ear, but it had happened right at the point of me leaving the realm and entering the regular world again.
“Oui,” Naomi said. “But it was only a breath of a voice. I heard it right as you emerged.”
“I don’t know who said it, but do you know what it means, Naomi?” I asked. The voice held a small accent, and now that I thought about it, the words had sounded vaguely French.
She nodded. “It is a derivative of French, a dialect of Haitian Creole. Bèt nan bwa means ‘wild animal.’ But in your case, I’m certain it meant to call you a wolf, so the voice said, ‘We shall meet soon, wild animal.’ ”
“Hmm,” I said. “I’m assuming it was either the priestess or a loa. I have no idea. But something was definitely there with me in that moment. But it didn’t feel like a threat… more like a promise or a warning.”
Marcy turned to glance at me, her arm resting along the back of the seat in front of me as we sped forward. “It may have been a loa, or the priestess talking through one. But with the whole alternate reality, I’m really starting to believe she’s a bokor. A sorceress makes much more sense, especially with the zombie aspect of those snakes and wolves. No normal priestess would be able to mind-control such a force and keep them contained as well as what we just witnessed. I bet those things are technically dead and she controls them through a potion or a curse. But however you care to slice it, she’s got a crap-load of power.”
“I think you might be right. But my father told me sometimes the wolves escape. They’ve been able to track them down before they hit a city,” I said. “But that doesn’t go along with her having supreme control over them.”
Marcy shrugged. “Well, either she wants them loose or she has too many to control and some slip under the radar. Either way, it’s very bad for us.”
Rourke angled the boat down a new channel at Naomi’s direction. “We’re almost there,” he called. “I can see boats up ahead.”