7. Chapter Seven
It was late in the afternoon by the time Grace and Brody managed to make it to the preserve. They picked up everything they needed from Massey’s, including flashlights, bug spray, and hip waders. The air was thick and humid, and the canopy of cypress trees loomed above them, casting eerie shadows on the wooden walkways and the murky water beneath them. The journey would be even more treacherous without the wooden paths twisting and turning through the bayou. Grace stopped as an alligator slid from a log into the water, leaving only a ripple behind to indicate that it had ever been there. She caught up with Brody, where the wooden path had been closed.
“What do you think? We keep going?” he asked. They could see the wooden walkway beyond the closed barrier, but the question was how stable it was or how much further it ran. The bayou was devoid of any human noise, the quiet broken only by the eerie call of unseen creatures and the occasional rustle of foliage. This was primal beauty at its best, a place where humankind minimally left its mark with the wooden walkways.
“Yes. This is part of an active investigation. What’s the Rangers going to do? Yell at us?” she asked softly.
Brody looked down at Grace. “Why are you whispering?”
“I don’t know,” she chuckled nervously. But she did know. She could feel the weight of centuries of Louisiana history pressing down on her, could sense the ancient poewr and mystery of the bayou permeating the air. She watched Brody lay his hands on the barrier and vault to the other side like a gymnast on a pommel horse. She waited until he had moved back enough for her to do the same. “This is one of the lesser walked trails, even with the boardwalk,” she commented.
“Hurricane Ida took out a good portion of the trails over here. We’re gonna have to be careful if we come across anything missing.” He looked over the side, watching an anole scurry into the underbrush. “The last thing I want is to be gator bait.”
“That makes two of us.”
Moss hung from the cypress trees, curtaining parts of the trail. Birdsong slowly gave way to the sounds of the insects as darkness began to fall. They had enough sense to park Brody’s truck outside the gates of the visitor center parking lot. The last thing they wanted to do was break out of there when they were done. They walked deeper into the bayou, waded through a shallow patch of swamp where the walkway had been washed out, and climbed up cypress stumps to get to the next section of the walkway, which was still stable. For a walk that was usually less than a mile, the missing sections of the boardwalk made it longer and more dangerous. And that was before one took into account the alligators and other denizens of the bayou.
It was almost completely dark when they found the “temple” Dr. Duval talked about. It was more of an old mausoleum that sat about five hundred feet from the end of the boardwalk on a small hill. The facade was old and crumbling, the weathered stone walls covered in moss and vines, the entrance shrouded in shadows. The only thing that gave it away as being recently used was that the path leading to the door from the swamp was clear of vines and other bayou debris. Only the night birds and insects broke the still air around the structure.
“Be on your guard,” Grace whispered to Brody as she slipped off the booted hip waders she wore. She swung her backpack from her shoulders, digging out her hiking boots under the light of Brody’s flashlight. Quickly, she put them on and laced them up before taking Brody’s flashlight and returning the favor. When they were ready, their duty belts around their waists and their pistols on their hips, they made their way to the door. The heavy wooden door opened easily, revealing a set of stairs leading down in the ground. The passage below them was brightly lit, the light dancing from the flames of lanterns or candles. She laid her hand on her pistol, nodded to Brody, and began her descent.
Brody nodded back to her, his expression serious as he followed her down the steps. The air was thick with the smell of incense and candle wax, and they could hear chanting filling the chamber at the end of the long corridor. He laid his hand gently on her shoulder as he slipped past her. He ensured she could get out of there if the people in that room weren’t in the mood to converse. The corridor opened to a chamber lit by more candles that formed a circle on the rooms outer edge. He could see figures moving in the shadows, hooded figures whose faces were obscured, and the voices low and guttural as they chanted. In the center of the chamber stood an altar. It was adorned with symbols and offerings to the Loa.
“Welcome Sheriff Cooper. Welcome Sheriff Whalen. We have been expecting you,” a voice echoed through the chamber. A single figure emerged from the shadows, his face hidden beneath his hooded cloak. He wore a red rope draped around his shoulders, and his hands, clasped before him, were gloved.
The man’s voice sent a shiver down Grace’s spine as she stood next to Brody just inside the doorway. She felt him lay his hand on the small of her back, telling her she had his full support. It was also comforting. She took a step forward, her chin held high, her heart pounding in her chest. “We are here to uncover the truth and see what your organization knows about the murders we are investigating.”
“We know of the murders you speak of. What makes you think we have anything to do with them?” a different voice asked.
Brody stood just behind and to Grace’s left. “We have found your sigil at the crime scene.”
“The sigil of the Loa is used by many,” the first man stated.
“The exact design is the one used by the Crescent Order,” Grace supplied.
“Ah…so you have discovered that much at least.” The hooded figure stepped up to the altar. “But, Sheriff Cooper, the truth is not always what it seems. If you want the answers you seek, you must prove yourselves worthy.” He gestured to the ancient artifacts scattered across the altars top. “You must pass the trials,” he said, his voice echoing across the room. “The first is the test of courage. If you succeed, you will find yourself back here at the end of it.” The members of the order parted, revealing a door at the chambers far end. “Good luck, Sheriffs.”
Grace looked at Brody and started towards the door. If this was the game they had to play to get the answers they needed, then so be it. They stepped through the door and were plunged into darkness. “Oh, I don’t like this,” Grace murmured. “I don’t like this one bit.”
Brody pulled his flashlight from his duty belt and clicked it. It illuminated the passage. “We’ve been going south ever since we left the boardwalk.” He looked at the compass on his watch. And we’re still going south.”
“Okay. Let’s take this methodically,” she stated as she started walking, Brody beside her. “I don’t like games like this.”
“Yeah, but if we want answers…” he let the comment hang for a moment. “Of course, we could just go back and shoot them, and no one would be the wiser,” he pointed out.
“Trust me, I’m tempted.” The air was heavy with the scent of wet earth, the passagway spongy beneath their feet. The corridor ended in a cross-corridor, and they paused. The passage slanted upwards towards the left, while to the right, it went down deeper into the ground. They could hear water dripping to their left. “I bet that way leads right into the bayou.”
“Then we go left.” Brody took her hand and started up the corridor to the left. They kept track of their path as best they could using their phones and drawing a map as they went. There were dead ends and endless corridors, doors that opened to walls and holes they couldn’t see the bottom of. They had no idea where the heart of the maze was that would lead them back to the altar chamber. The ground shook beneath them at one point, and small tremors rained dirt and small pebbles over them. A low growl followed it.
“Do you believe in Rugarous?” Brody asked calmly as he picked up his pace.
“Normally, I would say no. Right now, I believe in them, vampires and the boogeyman.” Her heart raced as they continued through the maze and its hidden traps.
“Stay close. We’ve got to be getting near the center,” Brody encouraged. Adrenaline coursed through their veins as they pressed onwards, their nerves taut as they encountered more pitfalls and illusions meant to confuse and disorient them. He could feel Grace trembling. “It’s okay,” he soothed, pulling her to him and wrapping his arm around her shoulder as they continued. He kissed the top of her head.
“What if we don’t get out?” she whispered.
“We will get out,” Brody stated firmly. It took them longer than they expected, but they finally reached the center of the maze. A key sat on the pedestal in the middle, and he picked it up. There were three doors, and the key would work on one. He looked at Grace. “Do you trust me?”
“Of course I trust you.” She watched as he walked over to the door at the furthest end of the room and tried the lock. The door opened, revealing the altar chamber on the other side.
“We were going south. The room had to be to the north.”
Together, they stepped through the door, their next trial awaiting them.