The evening of the LaRue interview, Elise picked up Audrey from school. In the courtyard behind the old Victorian, they grilled kabobs made with mushrooms, tofu, and mangoes, then walked to a nearby cafe" for frozen yogurt. Afterward, Elise helped Audrey with her pitching in Pulaski Square.

On the way back to Elise's, they passed a vendor selling a child's sleeveless dress with a no-puffer-fish design on the front.

Kinda cute, Elise thought.

The red-and-white sign had appeared seemingly out of nowhere. It could be found on the windows and doors of every eating establishment in town, even McDonald's. It was a version of the no-smoking sign, only instead of a cigarette, it sported a puffer fish with a red diagonal line through it. Underneath, it read: no exotic fish sold here. Many restaurants had removed fish from their menu completely.

"This is so cool." Audrey held up a T-shirt, checking for size, visit savannah, we dare you.

How did these things appear so quickly? Elise wondered. Was there a secret factory somewhere in the United States, always on standby in order to pump out souvenirs for every disaster that came along?

An even hotter item was the latex glove. Since the mode of TTX delivery hadn't yet been determined, people were being warned to wash their hands thoroughly and often, and to keep all cuts covered. The public had taken it upon itself to stock up on disposable gloves.

Last Elise heard, the gloves were a fashion fad, with the purple and red ones being the gloves to be seen in. The local supply had been depleted, even the boring flesh-colored gloves, and now people in other parts of the country, even the world, were putting up boxes on eBay, where the bidding could often go as high as fifty bucks. Which went to prove you could never put a price on style or health.

"How much?" Elise asked the vendor.

"Thirty dollars."

"Thirty?" For a T-shirt?

"Twenty."

Elise pulled out her wallet and extracted some bills. "How about fifteen?"

The woman quickly pocketed the money before a tourist happened by. "We have charms to go with the shirts," she said with a sweep of her hand.

A basket in the corner held wangas. With the white T-shirt draped over one arm, Audrey picked up a wanga, sniffed it, and recoiled. "Ugh." She held it to Elise's nose.

Sulfur.

Elise was familiar with sulfur-a main ingredient in most root work.

She'd seen people on street comers selling wangas for much less, but a person had to be careful. Those supposed wangas could be filled with leaves and grass out of the backyard. Not the real thing, with no powers of protection. Wearing a fake wanga would be like driving with a faulty seat belt or defective air bag.Unfortunately, there were always vultures out there ready to make a buck on someone else's misfortune.

"How can people wear these?" Audrey made a face. "They smell awful."

"It's worth it if it makes you feel safe."

"Dad says this kind of stuff preys on people's fear."

"It's not always a bad thing for people to believe a bag of herbs will protect them," Elise said. "It gives them a feeling of control in a situation in which they have none."

Audrey tossed the charm back in the basket. "Thanks for the T-shirt, Mom." Audrey slipped the shirt with the puffer fish design over her tank top and they resumed their walk.

Elise reached into her pocket and pulled out the wanga she'd been carrying for the past several days.

Audrey stared at it. "Where'd you get that?"

"Strata Luna made it for me."

"She did?"

"Would you like it?"

Elise realized she might feel better if Audrey had the charm. It could offer her some protection.

Audrey picked it up and sniffed it. "It doesn't smell as bad, anyway."

"The herbs she used help cover up the sulfur."

Audrey handed it back. "No, thanks."

The fact that her mother carried a wanga obviously made Audrey uncomfortable. What would she think when she learned about Jackson Sweet?

That line of thought reminded Elise of her last visit with Strata Luna. Would she come through with her birth mother's full name? If so, what would Elise do with it?

Three more blocks and they were home.

Their evening together had been somewhat of a success, but as Elise returned Audrey to the suburbs, she thought of her daughter's reaction to the wangas and was once again reminded of the differences between them. Not that she expected her daughter to be like her. That was egotistical and unrealistic. Audrey lived in a traditional, practical world while Elise continuously found herself straddling two cultures, neither of which fit. She could say she didn't believe in spells and wangas, but on a more primitive level she did. She also understood the power of the myth, a power that could never be discredited.

Elise dropped Audrey off, then drove back downtown through dark, silent streets. Arriving home, she found a manila envelope with the Black Tupelo logo stuck in her door. Just a single sheet of paper with the name Loralie and the address of the Savannah Carmelite Monastery printed in large black letters.