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Voodoo Does Vicki

Chapter 1

Sponsored by Vanrixie

By Draconicon

She liked to call herself Lady Thibodeux of the Haunted Manor. The title rang fearsomely in her ears and many would have felt at least a slight chill with her proper name attached to the frightening idea of someone living in a haunted house. It had worked for some of her ancestors, but for her, it wasn't so feasible. Not least for the state of the haunted manor, or where it lay.

Vicki looked over her shoulders, the current head of the Thibodeux clan - a laughable term if ever there was one, considering the lack of other members - glancing back at the wrecked spires of the manor. They barely poked through the trees of the great swamp north of the city, and she shook her head as she turned away. Her tails twitched, the nine glowing points shimmering brighter for a moment before she killed the glow with a thought.

After all, the conductor wouldn't want to have to think too hard about someone magical hopping on his train. Best to look normal, or at least, as normal as a rich woman leaving the swamp could look.

The train chugged out of the midnight air, the one bright light at the front of the engine shining on the tracks and then on her. The station, unlit from being all but abandoned for over a decade now, seldom saw business. The train struggled to stop when the engine saw her, the driver likely seeing if he could make good time by skipping her stop and realizing that he could not as soon as he saw her on the platform.

The engine went past, followed by the next four cars, with the last barely stopping in time to still be boardable. Vicki shook her head, gathering the edges of her skirt as she hustled in a way just short of dignified to the last doors.

One of the ticket-takers, a more normal fox, was there to meet her. He stared at her, his eyes wide as if he couldn't believe what he saw, and she bit off a snort.

"T-ticket, ma'am?" the fox asked.

Vicki pulled the stub of paper from her purse, handing it over. He looked at it, and then all around the platform, as if sure that there would be some staff member, or ticket issuer, or someone to tell him what was going on, or why there was some almost-unreal kitsune standing on the platform.

Of course, there was none. There hadn't been any for nearly twenty years, now.

"If I may board?" Vicki asked, letting her voice drift back to the drawl that it remembered from before college, university, and further education up north.

"Um, yes...yes, of course. This ticket - yes, it's fine. After you, ma'am."

Such was the way of the south. They still had the hospitality, even if they were a little bit startled. One could not leave a lady alone in the dark of night, and one could not question someone too much without being considered rude themselves.

It was such an easy thing to take advantage of.

Vicki allowed herself to be hustled to one of the better-quality carriages near the front of the train, seating herself in one of the little wooden rooms that were set aside for those that had better tickets. She nodded her thanks at the fox that had brought her forward, then dismissed him with a wave of her hand. He was almost too glad to leave her alone.

As the door to her chamber clicked shut, she looked out the window. The midnight stars did nothing to light up the swamp, nor did the lack of a moon. The passageways of water still churned and flowed beneath the tracks that passed over them, and she was almost able to feel the way that the magic in them pushed and twisted against the constraints leveled upon them by modernity. Even with her limited command of magic, she could understand that there was almost too much restraint issued by those that lived in the modern world.

Not that there was much anybody could do about that now. The old ways were fading, and everyone had to find a way to keep themselves afloat. And in her opinion, that was a good thing.

The Thibodeux name shouldn't mean so much as it did. No name should. Magical nobility was nothing but trouble...

Shaking her head, she leaned back against her seat. Of course, there were some downsides to everything evening out. Sure, the world was no longer so widely broken up into the fiefdoms of this magical powerhouse or this faerie prince, and there was no longer the slavery that some mages had held the mortals beneath them in, but there was the problem of trying to actually make your way in the modern world. The Thibodeux name had been made on the trading and safeguarding of magical items, and without that name, and without the need for magic items to be held in trust, well, it was hard to make a living.

She pinched her nose, thinking of the funds that she still owed the bank. Loans taken out against the manor to pay off other debts were coming due, and if she didn't find something to bring the money in again, those modern authorities were going to come crashing in and evict her.

Losing the house wouldn't bother her that much. She had come to terms with living in the real world long since, and Vicki would have welcomed the chance to put it behind her instead of being shackled to the damn place. However, the family's goods contained within? That was a different issue. Too many artifacts had been left to her family on the deaths of other clans or as a peace treaty between other magical beings, kept in trust by her family to ensure that the power balance between other competing groups hadn't grown out of hand.

And now, she had to take care of it. The manor was secure enough that nobody would get in there while she was gone, but if someone else owned it, that meant that the keys of the vault would change hands, and -

It hasn't happened yet. Let's just focus on getting this job done.

Vicki rubbed her forehead, taking a few deep breaths as she stretched her legs, getting more comfortable. She smoothed her blue dress down her legs, stopping at her ankles to roll them around and work out some of the stiffness that had come from standing at the station for so long. She really hadn't had much reason to be out and about for a while, and it showed.

But that should hopefully change.

She pulled the letter that had summoned her from her house from between her breasts. The sides of the envelope were slightly dampened and sticky, but a few flicks opened it nonetheless. She unfolded the paper within and re-read it.

_Ms. Thibodeux, _

You are cordially invited to the House of the Fontenots in New Orleans. It is our request that you come and give us a reading on something that we have recently acquired. Find enclosed the ticket to the city, as well as half of your payment up-front. We will be happy to continue business with you provided that this works out in both our favor.

We look forward to seeing you at your earliest possible convenience.

Sincerely,

Louis and Calliope Fontenot

Shaking her head, she folded it up once more and stuffed it back into her dress. She remembered how it had felt to read the letter the first time and how long it had taken her to believe that the seven-hundred dollars that had fallen out of the envelope had been real. It couldn't have been, but it was.

That alone would have been enough to pay off half the loans against the house. Double that would be enough to make her safe for some time.

What had followed was a deep dive into the name 'Fontenot'. It appeared time and time again in the papers through the years, going back at least two generations in New Orleans history. They had once been a powerful name as well, though their fortunes - like all those connected to the supernatural and mystical - had declined over time. The House of the Fontenots was little more than a curiosity shop, these days, at least, according to her limited magic back at the manor.

That said, if they were able to conjure up so much money as an incentive to get her to visit, then perhaps they had something else going on. And at the very least, it got her out of the house.

Vicki leaned her head back, closing her eyes and folding her hands over her lap. It was still a good three hours before they would reach the city, and she had slept remarkably little since getting the letter. It would be best to catch what rest she could before the train pulled in.

After all, it was important to make a good first impression.

#

The train whistle brought her back to the waking world and out of a dream of surprising pleasure. She smiled at the first purples of morning light creeping over the horizon, darkened only slightly by the smoke of the big city between her and it. She admired the elegant French features around the train station before dragging herself back to her feet. Her tails cracked and cricked as she adjusted them, and she shook her head as she rubbed the blood flow back into them.

As she stepped out of the little wooden room, she joined the flow of passengers coming from up north to the big city. New Orleans welcomed them with the roar of the Mississippi passing through, as well as the occasional revving engine of the growing number of cars that took to the streets. People moving in the early morning were quiet compared to how they'd be later in the day, and Vicki treasured the soft quiet while she could.

Of course, being what she was, she attracted a few eyes herself as she disembarked from the train. Some of the other passengers gasped at the sight of nine tails rather than the usual one, and some whispered 'kitsune' under their breath with the same tone that some would have said 'monster'.

It didn't surprise her. Some of them still didn't want to admit that there were such things as kitsunes, tanuki, brownies, or the Rougarou. There were dozens of creatures that most had thought purely fictional before the turn of the century, before the industrial age sunk its claws in so deep to the earth that people like her and her family could no longer hide away the way that they used to. They believed that the monsters were there to destroy the world, or at the very least drag it back to the 'savage ways' of the time before.

If they knew how much the mystic folk were struggling just to make ends meet, they'd never fear them again. That was why so many people in the same boat as Vicki were doing everything that they could to hide their problems. The moment that fear realized that there was nothing to be afraid of and everything to despise, then the mystic folks would be in great danger. Some of the more mortal species would see it as a means of cleansing a danger so that it could never rise again, while others would see it as a means of trying to claim that same power, as if by supplanting them the non-magical mortals could take their place.

Neither was true. It would merely be one more type of genocide that the planet had seen.

So, instead of reacting or trying to placate them, Vicki walked with all the dignity and playfulness and complete obliviousness of a lady that knew she was completely safe and, moreover, knew nothing could hurt her. For, in reality, few things could.

She smiled as she walked across the cobblestone streets, passing by local wolves and raccoons, dock-rats and possums. They nodded at her passing just as they did for anyone else, barely aware of her and certainly not paying attention to how many tails she had. For all that they cared, she was one more out-of-towner, one more tourist that had come to see the great city of the south.

As her high-heels clicked and tapped against the street stones, she made her way to the far side of the station where the taxis waited. Vicki walked up to one that had its driver free, and bobbed her head to the pigeon. He turned to her and gaped, his mouth hanging open. She chuckled, drawing one of her tails under his chin.

"What's the matter, hmm? Vixen got your tongue?"

"I - you - kitsune. Kitsune."

"A customer, hon." She chuckled, resting her hand on the back door of his car. "If you'll let me in?"

"...I...you..."

"Or are you sending me away?"

It wouldn't be the first time. Shop-owners in the north had been worse than those in the south, if only because they didn't have the same ingrained manners, but it had spread throughout the country at this point. What had been unacceptable in her mother's time and unthinking in her grandmother's had become something altogether acceptable in hers. Tossing the nine-tails and the ring-tails and the shifters out rather than giving them custom was seen as all but good and right, and only fear kept them from doing it all the time.

Fear, and good manners. The pigeon cleared his throat, pulling his hat off his head and covering his heart with it as he bowed, his work-coat creasing around his pudgy bellow.

"Sorry, ma'am, I wasn't thinking. Surely you can forgive a man this early in the morning."

"Of course. Now, the door?"

He pulled it open for her and she slipped inside. As he took his place in the driver's seat, Vicki pulled a few bills from her purse. It wouldn't take more than that to get where she needed to go.

"Where to?"

"The nearest bank. And keep the engine running after. I will need another ride."

#

Of the seven-hundred dollars that she'd been sent, five-hundred went right to the bank to pay off part of her debt. The teller's eyebrows had almost shot right off his face, and she had taken no small comfort in seeing that. After weeks of letters demanding payment, she was happy to show them that there was reason to be patient with her.

Of course, they were quick to push her for more, and quicker to remind her that there was still an outstanding balance of nine-hundred dollars and they still wanted that. However, with that much of a down-payment, they were not so vicious about it as they had been, and she could rest easier.

The pigeon was still waiting for her when she left the bank and continued to drive her across the city. She took lunch at a small café and then had him drive her to a bookstore, one that was nearer to the quarter where the Fontenots kept their business. Once he had dropped her off, she paid him for the day. Fifty dollars, when a five in a day and considered it livable. He stared at the bills in hand, shaking his head.

"Is this...is this..."

"It is all real, good man. Now, take it and enjoy yourself."

"Thank you, ma'am."

"And consider driving around here tomorrow. I may need a ride to the station."

"Yes, ma'am!"

He drove off in a rush, and she doubted that she'd see him again. He had the look of someone that had gained a reward more than sufficient and didn't want another, not at the risk that it put him in. A pity; she would have liked to have someone with manners after her job was concluded.

She still had a hundred-fifty dollars, which would be more than sufficient for her purposes. Staying overnight in a hotel would cost her some of that, but not too much. It would work.

Time passed slowly as she delved into the books at the bookstore. The proprietor kept his eyes on her to the point that she was sure that he lost at least half again as many tomes as she read to other customers, but that was his business rather than hers. At the very least, he didn't interrupt her while she was reading, and that was the important bit.

So went her day from mid-afternoon to sunset, at which point she finally pulled herself free of the tomes and left the building. The proprietor stopped her at the door, demanding that she prove that she hadn't taken anything from him. Her word insufficient, Vicki smiled.

"Perhaps you should learn to listen."

Her tails fanned out behind her, her own limited magics still potent enough for her purposes. As the tips of her tails glowed white-gold, the rest of her orange fur lit up like a wildfire in the distance. He backpedaled a step before she managed to get her fingers under his chin, tilting the possum's eyes up to look at her properly.

The aura of her magic formed into an illusion of the perfect woman. She could feel it over her, a glamour that cast her in the shape of what he desired most. It was different to her normal body, bigger in the hips and slightly smaller in the chest. Her gown of deep blue disappeared, replaced by a scarlet and black little number that went more than halfway up her thighs and exposed more leg than any decent woman would ever care to show. A fan appeared in her other hand, and she chuckled as she felt a little black dimple-mark appear on her cheek.

"Mmm, my, my...such deviant tastes..."

"Mmm-mmm-mmm..."

The possum stared at her with raw desire, the man robbed of his wits. She replaced her fingers with the tip of a fan that was not there for anyone but him, letting him rest his chin on it. She leaned in, her vulpine features faded to those of a possum's, leaving her with thicker whiskers and grayed fur.

"You know that it would be much better to let me go about my business."

"Mmmph...yeah..."

"That's right. So...let me go."

"Mmm, thank you, ma'am..."

"Thank you?"

"For letting me see someone...so pretty...heehee..."

She chuckled, patting his cheek before walking past. The illusion and glamour faded as she hit the street, going from stepping flat to stepping tall again as her normal clothes reasserted themselves. It was always strange how much of those spells were real and how much of it was nothing but illusion; she didn't actually transform, but there was always that sense of being something or someone else afterward.

Sadly, it was never long-lived. She couldn't simply become someone else, nor was the glamour guaranteed to be the same thing for every person that saw it. Many were merely presented with what they loved most, and with too many people staring at her at once, it always felt like her body couldn't entirely settle down. It was uncomfortable, to put it mildly, and she seldom used it for long.

The moon was just starting to rise on New Orleans and foreigners and locals alike were drifting down to the taverns and pubs, down to the bars and the troughs. They'd be there for hours, possibly all night long depending on the patrons. Some, inevitably, would be kicked out to wander somewhere else or to find the girls - and certain boys - that wandered the street at night. The courage of drink would keep them from fearing the other things that wandered the old roads of the big city under the moon, foolish as it was, but it would also keep them too busy to pay her much mind.

As the streets quieted from a lack of cars and pedestrians, Vicki allowed herself to enjoy the night air. The vixen stood a little taller, her tails less tightly curled against her back as the moon shone down on her. While the kitsunes were never the true creatures of the night - they had yielded that time of day to other, more suitable creatures - they had never shied from the light of the moon. It was a lover as much as any other, and it beckoned those beneath it to dance with it.

She walked with a bounce in her step, moving almost too fluidly from one foot to the other as she moved from road to sidewalk and back again, the heels of her shoes clicking away and counting out her pace like percussion players followed like ghosts behind her. Click-click, click-click, click-click-click. One-two, one-two, one-two-three.

A laugh escaped her, just loud enough to catch the attention of two locals across the street. They gave her one shocked look and immediately turned away, their heads bowed as they hustled along.

She supposed she should have expected that. Even at her best and most civil, there was a reputation for the many-tailed and mystical.

Keeping her head down, she stilled her dancing, ignoring the beckoning light of the moon as she made her way deeper into the quarter. The lights faded and the darkness of the alleys beckoned, lit only by the occasional candle and lamp as the shops and houses decried the use of electricity. This was the place where the old folk lived, and some of the most traditional still refused the modern amenities.

Privately, Vicki thought that they were being foolish, but they were among her greatest clients, so she had to respect them to their faces. Privately, however, she was grateful that she had managed to procure some small utilities for the Thibodeux home.

She passed shops that were tourist traps and shops that were scams, houses that claimed to be grand and historical but were merely built in the last decade, and small, private pubs that were there for those that knew that they existed just below the street. She passed by the card readers and the tarot makers - a distinction that more should know - and finally stopped at her destination.

The House of the Fontenots loomed like a hotel in miniature over the small corner shops that abutted it on either side, a curved roof sloping over the door before sweeping in on either side. The glass-front of the building was long-since stained over, the glass so marked that it was almost absinthe-green to look at. She leaned forward and could see nothing through it, which suited her just fine. The Fontenots doubtlessly preferred it that way, as well.

A rap of her knuckles against the front door was answered almost immediately, a tall alligator pulling it open. She recognized some of the fetishes dangling from his neck as the same sort that some of the swamp-men would have used many years ago before they were forced into the modern age by their city-dwelling relatives. She looked up past that long snout as he chuckled.

"Ms. Thibodeux?" he asked, his voice deep but rising into something almost like a chirp. He cleared his throat and tried again. "Ms. Thibodeux, I presume?"

"That I am. May I come in?"

"Please. Father is waiting for you."

"Just your father?"

"Mother is always waiting for someone. Please, please, come - ahem. Come in."

He was clearly young. Alligators and crocodiles always had some time before their voices properly deepened after they reached adulthood; the young chirps that called the parents to the eggs took quite some time to fade, and always tried to return in moments of nervousness.

She appreciated his body's honesty. It made her feel more at ease as she stepped into the darkened house.

It was both gaudy and elegant at the same time, with bright purple colors lining the walls in tapestries and hanging plant pots and brilliant yellows and oranges sprouting from various places. The floor was softened with a rug that lent a green and silver hue to the lower part of the groom, and everywhere was dotted in half-filled jars and vials of colored powders. It was as busy as it was vibrant, and Vicki's eyes were torn from place to place to place.

The alligator proved to be the one thing in the room that didn't assault her eyes, despite his shiny red waistcoat. As a matter of fact, he looked positively normal, as if he had just come off a more mundane job to meet her here. Vicki fell in step behind him, her heels no longer so loud as she walked across the rug.

"Did your parents tell you why I was invited?" she asked.

"They barely mentioned your arrival tonight," he said. "They just said that there would be a Thibodeux guest and I should be ready to receive you."

"Mm-hmmm..."

"They're quite secretive, I'm afraid. They don't like talking about business with me."

Vicki shook her head. It could have meant anything; it wouldn't be the first time that a couple in touch with the mystic side of things had turned overly secretive, and the Fontenots had been a family of power for several generations. Having a son that was turning to the mundane would be a clear reason to keep more things close to the chest, just in case he turned out to be a problem.

Or, it could mean something more sinister. If they were keeping things from their son, things that were more vital to the business -

Vicki shook her head. The business of the Fontenots was none of hers. She was here for a consultation, and that was that. Once that was done, they would determine arrangements going forward, and she would no longer have to deal with the bank looming over her shoulders.

And then I can take some time off...enjoy myself...

Something long overdue, that. She could take the train north again, perhaps, or afford to indulge herself in New Orleans for more than a night. With all the effort required to secure her situation, it had been too long since she had been able to cut loose properly, to relax her inhibitions. Kitsunes were naturally meant to party, to savor life and enjoy themselves. To have been restricted for so long...

But it was for the best. She had managed this long. She could manage a little bit longer.

The alligator led her out of the front room of the House and into the back. The expected spiral staircase hidden behind a closet was revealed, and he held the door open, gesturing for her to go down.

"On my own, then?" she asked.

"Mother and father don't like me to bring customers further than this."

"Ah. You 'spoil the atmosphere'?"

"So they say."

"Or is it 'disturb the spirits'?"

"They've used that one, as well."

"I'm truly sorry."

"I'm used to it, but thank you. After you, Ms. Thibodeux."

Nodding her head, she descended the stairs. They led her to a basement that was positively drowning in purple clouds of incense. Silk hung from the ceiling in heavy drapes, trapping more heat than was seemly in the basement, and the stone walls and floor seeped with moisture. What could have been welcoming was a dank, over-warm den.

Perfect for crocodiles, she supposed, but hardly comfortable for her. She lifted her skirts just past her ankles and made her way deeper into the room, making her way to the cracked door at the far end of the chamber.

"Who calls before Calliope Fontenot, teller of fortunes and speaker to spirits?"

That was a far more mature male voice, one that likely belonged to Louis, Calliope's husband. Vicki stopped a step away from the door, politely clasping her hands together in front of her.

"Lady Thibodeux comes, as invited."

"Ah, good Vicki. Come in, come in."

That felt pointless, she thought, tugging the door open. But theatrics aside...

She paused as she took in the new set-up. The fortune-telling room was bigger than she expected, with a large table perhaps ten feet in diameter taking up the center of it. A large bed covered the other side of the room, curtained on four corners and looking more like some divine orgy platform than it did a place of rest. Sitting at the foot of the bed was a female alligator, thick-set in the stomach and hips and heavy in the chest, all but naked in silk wraps that were colorful and transparent.

At her side, dressed more socially - if no less formally - was a male alligator, slightly broad in the gut but with a suit that disguised how thick or fulsome he might actually be. Unlike his son, Louis - if she guessed his identity correctly - wore his suit like something more mystical, something more fancy, like someone indulging the modern tastes rather than truly embracing them. He bowed at the waist, smiling at her.

"Ms. Thibodeux, allow me to offer you welcome."

"I feel welcome indeed, Mr. Fontenot. Your House is grand, indeed."

"We are thankful that you could come in such short notice. Please, sit."

He gestured to the one chair at the far end of the table, and Vicki took his invitation as it was. Sliding her tails through the hole in the back, she got as comfortable as she could, crossing one leg over the other and smoothing her skirt over her thighs.

Before she could ask to see what they needed identified, Calliope looked up. Her eyes were a brilliant green, and Vicki bit back her questions. She'd seen that color throughout the swamps before, and it was a reminder that the Fontenots actually had power rather than merely pretending to it.

Calliope's eyes faded back to a more standard black a few seconds later, and she laughed under her breath.

"Ah, yes, yes, Vicki. A long time since your family has visited outs," the alligator wheezed.

"There has been little reason to come back to New Orleans. It's been more convenient to keep myself busy."

"Away from the city. All alone. Helping the...heh...normal people."

Vicki shrugged.

"You know what it looks like, I'm sure. A kitsune, a mystic girl, helping everyone else? Selling our secrets. Telling them how to deal with magic? One would almost think that you're turning sides."

"And one might think that you paid me to come down, and decided to waste my time." She dropped the drawl; she'd long-since trained herself out of it, and it was more for the comfort of others than for herself these days. "And besides, looking around, it's clear that you aren't exactly doing well by sticking to tradition."

"Hee hee hee. I told you she would say that, dear," Calliope said, looking up at Louis. "Didn't I? Didn't I tell you that she was nothing but one of those little traitors?"

"You did, dear, you did."

"And yet, you still called me. What do you have for me?"

"Hee hee. The lovely thing with traitors. They're always for sale. At least we still have our pride."

Vicki tapped her finger against the arm of the chair, raising an eyebrow. She was half-sure that this was little more than a delaying tactic, something to get her goat or to make her do something stupid to allow them to renegotiate terms. Instead of responding, she just waited. Better people than the Fontenots had tried to get her goat and failed.

They must have realized that it was going nowhere, because Louis cleared his throat and reached beneath the table. He grunted as he pulled at whatever it was, and Vicki wondered what they could have found that would have been so heavy.

The answer came in the form of a massive stone sphere, marked out with a ring of marked wood and iron. At the top of the sphere was a cut hole, one that ran to the inside and was marked, in turn, by other aged powders and marks of magic.

Worse, Vicki knew what it was, and barely managed to restrain a shocked gasp at the sight of it. Her fingers clenched tight into the arms of her chair, and she clenched her teeth just as tight.

"Well, little traitor? Is it what we think it is?" Calliope asked, all but cackling. "Is it the Dream Stone?"

End of Chapter

Summary: Vicki Thibodeux, mystic kitsune, has been invited down to New Orleans to identify a magical item for someone. Short on cash, she takes the job. Enter the world where mystic and normal are still learning to get along.

Tags: No Sex, Glamor, F/solo, Crocodile, Possum, Kitsune, Various Species, Series, Vicki, Nine Tails, Fox, Underwear, Teasing, Heels,