“What happened here?” Mary asks as she tiptoes across the bones. A pile shifts, the bones rattling against each other as they settle into their new locations.
Something squeaks in terror nearby and I see a snake slither off out of the glow of my light. “Circle of life I guess.” This way.
We walk through a narrow tunnel, bones piled knee high down both sides, forcing us to walk in the inch of muddy water that runs down the center. The walls are covered in a green-brown slime that seems to ooze from the ceiling. I concentrate on the steps ahead and still manage to stumble, my hand slipping in the slime when I throw it out to steady myself. “Ugh,” I say, looking at the water and debating whether I’d end up dirtier if I tried to wash it off.
“How far is it to Jenny’s?” Mary asks as we turn another corner.
“Not too much further,” I say, indicating another turn, down another small tunnel. The mounds of bones lessens the further we get from the where we descended, and now only occasionally does she shiver as bones crack underfoot. Three more turns and she is glancing over her shoulder at me.
“Are you sure about this?” she asks.
”Definitely, it should be right around this corner.” I point to a bend in the passageway some fifteen feet in front of us.
“No, I mean coming here.”
“Oh. I’m not sure we have much of a choice.” I admit, shrugging my shoulders, causing the light from the Sigil Sphere to bounce along the walls. At some point, the green-brown slime had disappeared, and I notice tool marks in the wall. “I hope she doesn’t eat the stuff,” I say out loud. We reach the corner and I stop before rounding it. “Are you ready?” I ask her.
She takes a deep breath and squares her shoulders. Head held up high, she nods. “Let’s go.”
We turn the corner together. A wooden wall has been constructed from scraps and is propped against the wall, blocking one of the side passages. A screen door hangs askew from a pair of rusted hinges zip-tied to the wood. Zydeco music emanates from within. A porch has been crafted from pallets and resting on one of them is a rocking chair, currently occupied by a familiar face, underneath an equally familiar stovepipe hat.
“Benny!” Mary’s eyes light up and she speeds up, reaching the man before I do.
He too, is smiling as I reach them. “Freak Beans,” I nod politely. “What brings you here?”
“Just paying my respects to the old lady. You?”
“Same,” I tell him, but I am certain he does not believe me.
“Very good,” He nods, winks at Mary. “And you Miss, what do you hope to gain from a visit to the witch?”
“I heard that!” Comes an ancient voice from within, shouting to be heard above the music.
Freak Beans smiles at us and talks over his shoulder. “I meant it in the best possible way, Ma’am.”
“I’m sure you did. You better keep it that way!” The old voice from within shouts back.
“Did you bring her anything?” He whispers.
I admit, I had not even thought of it, but the look of panic on Mary’s face speaks volumes.
“Bring… her… anything?” She asks.
Freak Beans laughs. “It is fine, I must have something,” he begins to pat his jacket, starting at his shoulders. “Ah, these will do perfectly!” He says as his hands reach his pockets.
Mary holds out her hand without looking at what Benny has and is rewarded with a handful of mashed potatoes. “Um…”
“Perfect,” I say, winking at Freak Beans. I open the screen door and give Mary a push, shoving her through. I let the door swing shut with a loud crash as I step in behind her.
Jenny is seated at a large wooden spool turned on its side, the words McCoy Electric stenciled upon it in black. Her eyes are closed as she sways to the music. Her ebon skin is dry, her lips are cracked and peeling, and her hair is filthy, having once been dreadlocks, it is now more or less a mane.
We stand just inside the door, waiting for her to acknowledge us. Mary looks at me and I shake my head. She looks down at the potatoes in her hand, and pulls a large piece of lint from them, letting it fall to the floor.
“Well, don’t just stand there. Have a seat.” The ancient voice from earlier emanates from the slight woman.
“Umm, we brought you these.” Mary says, extending her hand.
Jenny sniffs the air, having yet to open her eyes. “Ah, potatoes. You didn’t get those from Benny did you?” She chuckles and slides a bowl toward us.
I stand quiet, remembering my first, nervous encounter with the witch.
“Erm, yes, I did. I’m sorry, if you don’t want them…”
“Oh hush girl, give Ol’ Jenny those, I’ll eat them whether they’re from you or from Benny, or even from that fool Cyrus. Food is food, I always say.”
“Yes Ma’am,” Mary drops the potatoes into the bowl and pushes it back towards the crone.
Jenny grabs the bowl and ravenously devours the dish, licking the bowl clean. “Subway Charlie, I hear you breathing, are you going to say ‘hi’?”
“I’m sorry Jenny. Hello.” I nod, and laugh at the motion.
“Sit!”
We do, the crates scrape across the concrete ground. I pull out the tarot card and set it in front of me.
“Ah good, you brought it back to me. I was hoping you would.” She finally opens her eyes. They are milky white, the cataracts completely formed.
Mary gasps, “I know someone who can,” She catches herself, “Knew someone who could help you see again.”
Old Jenny laughs. The raspy sound emanates from her stomach. She only stops because she descends into a coughing fit. “Dairy Mary, I can see fine, why else do you think you came to me?”
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