"Madame Tiresias, a wizened crone who lived across the street, was reputed to know all about cures, as well as spells and curses. Her grandparents had come to Louisiana from Haiti, and Madame Tiresias had visited the island several times. She had nothing but contempt for the faux voodoo of the Marie Laveau wannabes that was marketed to the gullible by so many New Age charlatans in New Orleans. Her spells were the real thing. She was a skilled practitioner who took great pride in her work.She hobbled into the apartment the three women shared, her eyes darting to every object in the room, seeming to show no special interest in Lulu, lying on the couch.Brenda offered her a cup of tea or a glass of water. "Tea would be fine, child," said Madame T. "Tanya, where are the lizards you once kept as pets." In my bedroom, Madame," said Tanya. "I moved them there to keep me company." Bring them out here," Madame T. commanded. Then, finally showing interest in Lulu, she pulled up a cane rocking. He danced alone, chin length brown hair damp with sweat as the smoke from the incense drifted around him in a sort of spell-cast way. The lady’s eyes danced with him, followed his hips as they sang with tiny chimes in time to the beat of the gypsy tambourines. He smiled arrogantly at her, correctly noting the arousal in her fae eyes. A combination of scents, and sounds…the sweat of lovers entwined in the erotic dance of the gypsy angels, the beat of the drum matching the beat of her heart as it sped, thundering against her breast bone as her pulse raced. Slowly he made his way towards her, the throng of dancers in their brilliant colors parting so easily for him. ‘Iubire…’ He whispered in her ear, kneeling beside her for what seemed like an eternity, each moment counted by a beat of her heart. She didn’t recognize the word, it was true, her Romanian was horrible, and this boy couldn’t possibly speak her language. It was something in how he said it, however, that caused the aching.
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