Black Magic Woman by Justin Gustainis Page B
Authors: Justin Gustainis
Tags: Fiction, General, Fantasy, Contemporary, Mystery & Detective, Horror, Paranormal, Witches, Mystery Fiction, Occult fiction, Occult & Supernatural, Occultism
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his throat a few times. "I was about to say that a few incidents of muti killings have been reported abroad. They had a case of it in England, a few years ago."
"Same M.O. as ours?" Fenton asked.
"Only in the most general terms. The body of a child, a black male around seven years of age, was pulled out of the Thames, missing its arms, legs, and head."
"Local kid?"
"Probably not, although the body was never identified. The detectives referred to him as 'Adam,' just to give the poor lad the dignity of a name."
"Did they ever make an arrest?"
"Ultimately, no. Scotland Yard were very interested in a Yoruba woman from Nigeria, but the physical evidence was minimal and the woman refused to admit any involvement. Officially, the case remains open. But something good came of it all: Scotland Yard were prompted to initiate Project Violet, which is designed to investigate witchcraft crime in Britain. They have been very busy, I understand."
"Well, as you might imagine, Behavioral Science has searched every law enforcement database there is, and there's no record of this kind of crime being reported anywhere in North America before. These three cases are the first we've ever had."
Van Dreenan looked at Fenton very steadily as he said, "I wish I could assure you that they will be the last."
Chapter 10
Quincey Morris and Libby Chastain walked with Walter LaRue through the ruins of his family's kitchen. Broken glass and bits of crockery crunched under their feet everywhere they went.
"Jesus Christ Almighty," the big man said softly.
"No, Mister LaRue," Libby said. "I think I can assure you that He wasn't responsible for any of this."
LaRue slowly took it all in: the knives and other sharp objects strewn everywhere—except for those protruding from the kitchen door or from the wall opposite; pots and pans all over the floor, having fallen, or been knocked off their wall hooks; the dinette table, which had clearly been used as a battering ram against the kitchen door and was much the worse for it; and the door itself—split, cracked, gouged, and close to coming apart altogether.
The massive damage to the kitchen door was a clear indication to Morris of just how close it had really been for him and Libby yesterday afternoon. Just a few more hits with that table would have done it, he thought. Then the door would've gone and I'd have the chance to see how Davy Crockett felt there at the end, when the Mexican soldiers came at him with their bayonets.
They had explained things to LaRue on the drive over from the Holiday Inn. It would have been cruel to just let him walk into his home to discover this carnage.
After carefully viewing the damage, Walter LaRue took a deep breath, let it out, and said mildly, "Well, it could've been worse."
Morris just nodded. He didn't look at Libby, although both of them had expected an explosion, considering the amount of tension that LaRue had been under lately.
"And if whatever caused this—" LaRue's gesture took in the whole kitchen, "allowed you to make my home safe again, then, goddamn it, it was worth it!"
"Of that I can assure you," Libby said. "The spell that caused those attacks on you and your family will not trouble you again."
"But the job's only half done," Morris said. "We've got to locate the source of the spell, before whoever cast the damn thing finds out what we've done and gets to working on another one."
Alarm clouded LaRue's face. "You mean what you set up here is only protection against one specific spell?"
"No, it's what you might call a broad-spectrum system," Libby told him. "Similar to what Greta had in place, but, if I may flatter myself, somewhat stronger. But no system is completely foolproof."
"As I understand this sort of thing, it's kind of like the arms race during the Cold War," Morris said. "The Soviets would come up with a new missile, and we'd develop a counter to it. Everything's fine—until they invent an even better missile."
LaRue ran a hand
"Same M.O. as ours?" Fenton asked.
"Only in the most general terms. The body of a child, a black male around seven years of age, was pulled out of the Thames, missing its arms, legs, and head."
"Local kid?"
"Probably not, although the body was never identified. The detectives referred to him as 'Adam,' just to give the poor lad the dignity of a name."
"Did they ever make an arrest?"
"Ultimately, no. Scotland Yard were very interested in a Yoruba woman from Nigeria, but the physical evidence was minimal and the woman refused to admit any involvement. Officially, the case remains open. But something good came of it all: Scotland Yard were prompted to initiate Project Violet, which is designed to investigate witchcraft crime in Britain. They have been very busy, I understand."
"Well, as you might imagine, Behavioral Science has searched every law enforcement database there is, and there's no record of this kind of crime being reported anywhere in North America before. These three cases are the first we've ever had."
Van Dreenan looked at Fenton very steadily as he said, "I wish I could assure you that they will be the last."
Chapter 10
Quincey Morris and Libby Chastain walked with Walter LaRue through the ruins of his family's kitchen. Broken glass and bits of crockery crunched under their feet everywhere they went.
"Jesus Christ Almighty," the big man said softly.
"No, Mister LaRue," Libby said. "I think I can assure you that He wasn't responsible for any of this."
LaRue slowly took it all in: the knives and other sharp objects strewn everywhere—except for those protruding from the kitchen door or from the wall opposite; pots and pans all over the floor, having fallen, or been knocked off their wall hooks; the dinette table, which had clearly been used as a battering ram against the kitchen door and was much the worse for it; and the door itself—split, cracked, gouged, and close to coming apart altogether.
The massive damage to the kitchen door was a clear indication to Morris of just how close it had really been for him and Libby yesterday afternoon. Just a few more hits with that table would have done it, he thought. Then the door would've gone and I'd have the chance to see how Davy Crockett felt there at the end, when the Mexican soldiers came at him with their bayonets.
They had explained things to LaRue on the drive over from the Holiday Inn. It would have been cruel to just let him walk into his home to discover this carnage.
After carefully viewing the damage, Walter LaRue took a deep breath, let it out, and said mildly, "Well, it could've been worse."
Morris just nodded. He didn't look at Libby, although both of them had expected an explosion, considering the amount of tension that LaRue had been under lately.
"And if whatever caused this—" LaRue's gesture took in the whole kitchen, "allowed you to make my home safe again, then, goddamn it, it was worth it!"
"Of that I can assure you," Libby said. "The spell that caused those attacks on you and your family will not trouble you again."
"But the job's only half done," Morris said. "We've got to locate the source of the spell, before whoever cast the damn thing finds out what we've done and gets to working on another one."
Alarm clouded LaRue's face. "You mean what you set up here is only protection against one specific spell?"
"No, it's what you might call a broad-spectrum system," Libby told him. "Similar to what Greta had in place, but, if I may flatter myself, somewhat stronger. But no system is completely foolproof."
"As I understand this sort of thing, it's kind of like the arms race during the Cold War," Morris said. "The Soviets would come up with a new missile, and we'd develop a counter to it. Everything's fine—until they invent an even better missile."
LaRue ran a hand
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