![]() Sam looked around, then pointed to an empty spot next to some brightly painted canvases. Artists had leaned their paintings against the fence to attract passersby. The stretch of sidewalk to the left of the main square was littered with small folding tables where psychics and tarot card readers sat. A gothic-looking cathedral towered over everything, just behind a green-tinged statue of Andrew Jackson (he waved his hat at us). The main park area, surrounded by a wrought-iron fence, was enormous and perfectly landscaped. “Well, it tricked you,” I said a little defensively. Finally, I remembered that one of my uncles had taught me a really good trick. I was sure that if I tried to sing or dance, we would end up owing money. I racked my brain, trying to come up with something. Otherwise, the next section may not make any sense to you. WARNING! You’re about to spoil a great story by not making a choice! Page back, then click one of the links to advance the story. Simultaneously, both of us looked over at a trio of break dancers who were drawing an enormous crowd across the street. “How are we supposed to get into the show tonight? Hades obviously wanted us to go for a reason….” He removed a handful of crumpled one-dollar bills and passed them to me. “Sam?” He reached into his backpack without meeting my eyes. Come back later.” The window clicked shut. Thirty-five dollars apiece for Big Shot seats. The man examined it for a moment, then shook his head. “Please!” I said, and produced the gold coin that Hades had given us. “Office opens at six,” he said, and started to slide the window shut. “I need two tickets for the eight o’clock show,” I said. I knocked until a small, wiry man slid it open and squinted at us. Sam wiped jambalaya off his chin and burped as I approached the closed ticket window. Between the crowds of tipsy tourists and the Sisyphean task of pulling Sam away from open restaurants, it took us nearly forty-five minutes to get there. I suggested we head to Preservation Hall and get our tickets early. We had a pretty good feel for the cemetery’s layout by the time it closed to the public at three. “And we definitely want this one to come true.” Tell them and they won’t come true.” I surveyed the cemetery and shivered despite the heat. “World peace, a hundred more wishes, and that you’d lose the hat.” “Either that or your sweaty palm erased the mark,” Sam replied. “You think that means she’s going to grant it?” When I removed my hand, the X’s had disappeared. With apologetic thoughts to the tour guide, I made three tiny X’s with a piece of brick, covered them with my hand, and whispered my request. Sam gathered them into a bouquet, which I put with the other offerings. Sam was quiet for a moment and then took off his new hat. Maybe she just needs a little coaxing to heal the people who were bitten by the Mormo.” I knelt in front of her tomb. And the tour guide said she was a healer. Voodoo is serious magic, and Marie Laveau was the most powerful practitioner of her time. “Five demigods turned into zombies? We need all the help we can get.” When the group moved on, I held Sam back. But to answer your question: some people believe that if they mark this tomb with three X’s and leave an offering, Marie will grant them a wish.” “Before we go any farther, I must request that you not deface this or any of the vaults. “In god years, that’s like yesterday,” Sam whispered back. “That doesn’t seem very recent,” I whispered. “Uh,” said the tour guide, sneaking a look at the tomb. “Marie! Do you think she’s the demigod Hades talked about?” You may know her better as the Voodoo Queen.”Ī few people gasped. “It is believed to be the final resting place of Marie Laveau, a renowned healer and pacifist. ![]() “This is tomb three hundred and forty-seven,” the tour guide droned. Trios of hand-drawn X’s marked the sides and front. Candle stubs, wilted flowers, strings of colorful beads, and other random objects littered the ground around it. We trailed behind them to a white tomb with a gently peaked roof. It was a popular historical attraction, and we arrived just as a tour group was setting out. Saint Louis Cemetery Number One was within easy walking distance of Café du Monde. Look: nub holes.” He poked his fingers into the two slits cut for the mule’s ears and then jammed the hat on his head. And Sam?” I gestured to the hat in his hand. In between, maybe we can take in some jazz. I say we check out the cemetery now, while it’s still light, and then go back tonight to do some ghost wrestling.
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