A few days later, the quiet little town turned into a full-blown circus.
The night Chief Woody got Luke's call, he'd been nursing a migraine. Because of jurisdiction headaches, he kicked it upstairs. The higher-ups read the report, decided it sounded like a bad B-movie, and kicked it even higher. The ball bounced back and forth for days.
Then the weirdos started showing up.
FBI arrived first. The agents in their sharp suits took one look at the sticky black pus and chunks of rotten at scattered everywhere and turned green on the spot. They strung up cri-scene tape, pinched their noses, and started collecting samples like they'd been thrown under the bus by their own office.
Thanks to Luke's half-insider status and the fact that Lionel didn't exactly look like a serial killer, the kid wasn't hauled off for a "mory refresh."
The FBI's forensic team went to work on the battlefield ss. Luke had wanted to blast everything with holy water just in case the zombie goo was contagious, but when he poured it on the ground, nothing happened. The stuff was just… organic. No evil residue. Holy water did jack.
He tried sending it down the storm drains next, but the locals shut that down fast. No sewer system out here. Everything just ran straight into the little rivers around town.
So Luke let the Feds have it.
Sohow their lab rats actually pulled sothing useful out of the sludge. An urgent report went up the chain: it looked like a brand-new strain of rabies virus with serious research potential.
That lit the fuse.
Word leaked. The next day DEA rolled in claiming the goo might be used to cook up new street drugs. They demanded a sample "to prevent future outbreaks on the market."
Before the FBI could even argue, a couple of sleek black cars with pharmaceutical logos pulled up. A well-dressed guy smiled, handed over a fat check, and walked away with his own jar of nightmare juice. The agents looked at the number on the check and suddenly decided they had better things to do.
Then ca the university professors with their grad students. They set up tents on the edge of town like they were camping for the sumr. Finally the FDA showed up, muttering about possible water contamination and food-supply risks, and shoved their way into the ss too.
Overnight the town was crawling with strange people. Locals who normally minded their own business now spent every day rubbernecking like it was the county fair.
Luke spent his ti with the camp kids, running a lemonade stand on the side of the road while keeping an eye out for any new trouble. When he had a free mont, he and Lionel headed to the grocery store to study voodoo with the old woman.
She wasn't exactly a polished teacher—she'd basically taught herself. To avoid screwing them up, she'd stayed up all night and hand-drew a crooked little textbook.
She tapped the ssy symbols on the page.
"The heart of voodoo is the bridge between the spirit world and this one. This mark stands for the flow of life force. You two need to learn how to feel it first."
Luke squinted at the wobbly drawing. It looked like sothing a kindergartner had scribbled during nap ti.
"Grandma… you sure this actually works?"
She shot him a glare.
"Of course it works. You think I pulled an all-nighter for fun?"
Lionel raised his hand like a kid in class.
"Uh… I can feel a warm current moving inside right now. Is that the life force?"
The old woman nodded, pleased.
"Exactly. You're basically a living voodoo doll at this point, so you're extra sensitive. Luke, give it a try."
Luke closed his eyes and followed her instructions, trying to sense any energy moving through him.
A minute later he opened his eyes and shook his head.
"Nothing."
Then a thought hit him. His power ca from a completely different source than theirs. Copying their thod wasn't going to cut it.
He reached back to the feeling he got when he made holy water or recited from the Bible—the clean, steady current in his mind.
This ti it clicked instantly.
He could feel a crisp stream of energy flowing behind his eyes. It felt nothing like the warm rush Lionel described, but it was definitely there.
He gave them both a nod.
The old woman let out a relieved breath.
"Thank God. I was starting to think I'd written the whole thing wrong."
She flipped the page.
"Let's start with basic blessing charms."
She pulled out a small cloth pouch filled with random junk—chicken bones, dried grass, little colored stones.
"Blessing work is the simplest voodoo. It boosts luck and gives protection."
While she talked, she laid the items out in a specific order.
"The most important part is real intent."
Luke watched her work and couldn't help himself.
"This looks more like arts and crafts than magic."
Her hands froze. She slapped the table hard enough to make the bones rattle.
"Arts and crafts? You think magic is waving a wand and chanting Latin?"
"I didn't say that, I just—"
"Just what?"
"Never mind. Please continue."
Luke wisely shut up.
She huffed and kept going.
"Watch. Chicken bone first—that's death ending and new life beginning. Then the grass, that's the earth's power. Last the colored stones. Each color ans sothing different."
Her fingers moved fast and sure. In under a minute she had a finished charm.
"Now you two try."
Luke copied her exactly, fiddling with the bits and pieces on the table. The process felt way more mundane than he'd expected—no glowing lights, no dramatic chanting, just careful assembly.
They both finished quickly.
The old woman looked them over, satisfied.
"Now push your own blessing into it along with your energy."
"I'm not demonstrating. Spent all day shaping that voodoo doll for Luke and my back is killing ."
Luke didn't need to be told twice. He reached for the familiar psionic current in his mind and guided it into the charm the sa way he did with holy water.
A soft hum.
The little stone on the charm glowed for a split second, so faint it was almost invisible.
[Detected: Host has created a voodoo artifact]
[Voodoo specialty activated]
[Voodoo LV1 (50/1000): Psionic Bonus 0.1]
[Voodoo: Craft items that carry voodoo effects. Power scales with materials and Psionic.]
[Psionic: 1.9 (1.8 0.1)]
Hell yeah.
Luke grinned at his handiwork and turned to show Lionel—only to freeze.
Lionel had slumped in his chair, face chalk-white, cold sweat beading on his forehead. His lips trembled like soone had just sucked the life right out of him.
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