Renee Oleyant sat in the softly lit parlor and looked around at the voodoo symbols and offerings that filled the small Creole cottage. Heavy candle smoke lapped at an upside down cross on the cluttered altar and stopped to hover over several crude rattles that lay at the foot of the cross, ready to summon the deities. Drum rhythms were intense as the arms of smoke reached out to lift her from her chair.
The color-saturated house in the French Quarter was a welcome contrast to The Good Deal Inn where Renee had recently been staying. The Inn was washed with a gray pallor, a bland statement of noncommittal to anything alive that might pass through its metal, windowless doors.
Renee felt safe in the warmth of the cottage as she stared down at the small photo of her daughter. She had placed t
