Gentlemen Prefer Voodoo

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Special thanks to intrepid readers Michelle McMurry and Julia Grace, who braved St. Louis Cemetery Number One as well as the back streets of New Orleans to take site pictures and answer lots of (rather odd) questions.

To Koren Cota and Sandie Grassino for the translations. Also to Jessa Slade for hanging out at RWA Nationals and brainstorming “the perfect word” to describe a rat. (Hey, these things are important.) You, my dear, are resplendent.

Amie could barely see her customer as the woman lurched toward the counter, arms loaded with a voodoo love spell kit, fat pink altar candles, a well-endowed Love Doll, a twelvepack of Fire of Love incense, and “breath mints,” the woman huffed. She dumped everything on the mosaic countertop and reached for the Altoids display, a nervous smile tickling her lips. “Not that I expect all of this to work right away.”

Amie couldn’t help laughing as she caught a supersize bottle of Heat Up the Bedroom linen mist before it rolled under an arrangement of Good Fortune charms. “You never know.”

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