The lighting in the hallway was dim. The bulbs that hung from a rusted iron chandelier emitted a faint orange glow while the light cast dark shadows along the wall that moved to the beat of our echoing footsteps. I couldn't walk through this hallway fast enough.

At the end of the corridor was a faded red, wooden door. Isadora opened it and gestured for us to enter.

Inside was a normal looking study with a clean desk, shelves filled with books, a liquor cabinet, and most surprisingly a framed university certificate hanging against the back wall. I looked at it with keen interest.

Isadora Lalande, graduated from the University of New Orleans in theological studies with first honors.

"I still don't see Mr. Friday anywhere," Beau said as he examined the liquor cabinet. "But you do have a vintage scotch in here that I'd be interested to try, that is if you're willing to offer your esteemed guests a drink."

"Once business is done," Isadora said, as she took a seat behind the desk as crossed her legs.

I looked at the way she was sitting, in an authoritative stance with an amused look on her face, and an idea dawned on me.

"There is no Mr. Friday, is there?" I asked. "It's only you."

"There are partial truths in your words," Isadora said. "There was a Mr. Friday, and he was a great man that deserved be feared as well as respected. He died over two years ago."

"And you've been running the show since, behind the scenes?" Lincoln asked.

"Any successful partnership must begin with trust," Isadora said, "And so I have trusted you with the greatest secret amongst my organization. I trust you will keep it?"

Lincoln nodded. "Of course," he said. "The Midnight Society keeps the secrets of everyone they're in bed with."

"I figured nothing less from the Midnight Society."

"How did Mr. Friday die?" Lincoln asked.

"Does that matter?"

"I'm just curious to know how a man so great met his end."

Isadora sighed. "Mr. Friday was a man who enjoyed many vices. One of them ended up being the death of him."

Beau's mind looked boggled. "So for two years, a voodoo witch has been running the show?" he asked. "The person I've been dealing with all this time was you?"

Isadora shrugged. "Is it so hard to believe that a woman can run an entire empire by herself?"

Beau shook his head. "I don't question your abilities," he said. "I'm just surprised that behind all the vicious murders and acts of violence over the past couple of years, is a beautiful woman such as you."

"Bite your tongue you ape," Isadora warned. "You don't have any evidence to prove I murdered anyone."

"It's no secret that Mr. Friday has been more ruthless to his enemies over the past couple of years," Beau said.

I could tell Isadora was starting to get annoyed.

Lincoln must have sensed it too as he was quick to interject into their discussion. "Isadora, has Beau told you why we're here?"

She nodded. "You want the Midnight Society's investment back."

"And our stash of weapons as well," he replied. "The money that Beau gave you was not meant for investment purposes."

Beau seemed to take offense to Lincoln's words. "Don't be a sour puss about it," he said. "The investment decisions I made have more than doubled the Midnight Society's money. I'm not gaining a cent from any of this."

"If you gained nothing out of your business dealings with me, why do it in the first place?" Isadora asked.

"Heck, why does anyone do anything these days? I was bored."

"So you decided to play with our money?" Lincoln asked, still composed.

"It was a safe bet," Beau said. "I never gamble unless I know I'm coming out a winner."

Isadora smiled. "It's true. I've made a lot of money for the Midnight Society through the initial investment." She pulled out a notebook from the desk and flipped through the pages casually. "Ah, here we are. Last year's earnings."

"And?" Lincoln asked.

"A net profit gain of three million dollars, cash, from what you put in."

Lincoln looked at Beau and shrugged. "I give you credit, you're not a bad investor. What did you invest in?"

"The surefire money maker around these parts," Beau said, "Crystal meth. The drug has gotten quite popular after a wonderful TV show put it in the spotlight."

Great, our future relied on the business decisions from a s.e.x-obsessed TV junkie who exchanged his television for a mirror.

"Can we have our money and weapons then?" Lincoln asked.

Isadora shook her head. "Weapons are not a problem. The money however...when Beau first gave us money to use as investment for the crystal business, it was understood that the investment had a three year locked-in period," she replied. "Currently we are in year two. To shift the funds around now would leave us both at a loss."

"You said we made three mil from this," Lincoln said. "You're telling me none of that money is available to us?"

"That is correct," Isadora said. "Delilah is a genius when it comes to business ventures, and dare I say prophetic. Any profits made are reinvested in other channels of our business to maximize profits. My estimates are that by the end of year three, you'll have a return of close to five million dollars."

"Three million will do just fine," Lincoln said, "And we'll take it now. Please."

Isadora shook her head. "No."

"Then this is a problem," Lincoln said. "Once again, that money was not for Beau to invest in this business venture."

"It is a problem," Isadora agreed. "But it's not my problem."

"What if we were to take back the initial investment of one million only?" Lincoln asked.

"You nuts boss?" Beau chimed in. "You'd leave two million on the table?"

Lincoln nodded as he shot Beau a scathing look. "Yes. We need the money now," he said, coldly.

He turned his attention back to Isadora who seemed to take pleasure in our situation. She had a smirk on her face.

"Mr. Sparrow, I cannot return the three million to you that is currently in play. It was the agreement I had with Beau." Isadora said. "However I can give you three million out of my own pocket."

"That'd be most gracious of you," Lincoln said. "But I a.s.sume there's a catch to this."

"Isn't there always?" Isadora replied.

He let out an exasperated sigh and nodded. "What do you want?"

"A business partnership with the Midnight Society," she replied. "I have a new business venture starting up, and I would like to have your organization's influence in helping me get it off the ground."

Lincoln shook his head. "We have nothing to contribute right now, as you can see," he said. "We're sc.r.a.ping pennies off the sidewalk here."

"This is a temporary setback," she replied. "I'm confident that in few years, you'll be the world-influencing empire that you once were. I'd love nothing more than to have your organization back my new business in both social and financial influence."

"What are you selling?" Lincoln asked.

Her smile was full of mischief, one that made me think she was serving up a big slice of trouble pie for us to eat.

"The greatest profit turning business in the world," she replied, "Faith. I want to sell my voodoo to the world. But first, I need one of you to believe. I need one of you to get in bed with your ghosts."

Chapter Nineteen.

Aria Sleep with my ghosts? This chick had read one-too-many paranormal romance books. From the amused look on Lincoln's face, it seemed like he agreed with me.

"Look, I appreciate the offer of you giving us the cash out of your own wallet but-"

"Do you think voodoo is a joke?" Isadora asked.

Beau spoke up. "No ma'am," he replied. "I've seen enough s.h.i.t in this life to know that sometimes black is white and up is down. I'd be d.a.m.ned if the cause of that didn't come from something existential-something spiritual."

I couldn't help but suspect Beau was kissing her a.s.s just so he could tap it later.

Isadora looked at Lincoln. "What about you?"

Lincoln shrugged his shoulders. "I'll believe in anything that ends up with money in my pocket."

Isadora shook her head. "That's not enough."

"I'm sorry, sweetheart. Don't get me wrong, I do believe in the existence of spiritual ent.i.ties and higher order," Lincoln began, "But if you expect me to suddenly put all my faith into voodoo and magic, it's a stretch for me. I'm being realistic here."

She didn't seem to like his answer and was quick to brush him off, turning her attention to me instead. "What about you?" she asked. "Do you believe in spirits?"

It sounded preposterous.

"Yes," I lied.

"Do you believe in my magic?"

I shrugged. "Sure, why not."

Isadora smiled. "Are you willing to prove your belief then?"

"What do I have to do?"

"Take a leap of faith," she replied, "And allow yourself to succ.u.mb to the spirits. It's the spirits that are the true essence of voodoo."

I didn't see the harm in playing along. It was all just a bunch of smoke and mirrors anyway.

"Lucy-" Lincoln began.

Isadora was quick to cut him off. "Tomorrow night, there will be a wedding," she said. "I'd like for all of you to attend. It will be a wonderful celebration filled with food, music, alcohol, and of course magic." She turned and looked at me. "Before the ceremony, I'd like you to meet with me privately and experience my brand of voodoo. Only once you've experienced it can you truly believe."

She turned to Lincoln. "Tell your boss I do not expect any of you to convert to the religion in which I offer," Isadora said. "But I do want him to acknowledge its existence, to know that what I do is real. Once Lucy has experienced the spirituality of my beliefs, I want the Midnight Society to endorse the Lalonde branch of voodoo as a respected form of religion."

"So, all you want is to be acknowledged as a legitimate faith?"

Isadora nodded. "Yes," she replied. "And for that I need social influence and political backing, both of which the Midnight Society once had."

"Had is the key word," Lincoln replied. "As you mentioned, it'll be a while before we can regain all that back. We are starting at ground zero."

"I am very patient," Isadora said, unconcerned.

"Religion is also a very tough sell," Lincoln replied. "Especially since the entire concept of voodoo is based around ghosts and spirits and other creatures of the night."

"The Christian faith believes in spirits as well," Isadora pointed out, "The holy spirit being at the center of Christianity."

"The lady's got a point," Beau said. "The Christian faith does have its savior preaching about eating his body, drinking his blood, and rising from the dead. That's some crazy vampire s.h.i.t."

"I'll continue to ignore you," Lincoln sighed, turning his attention back to Isadora. "I don't think it can be done, forging a business empire with the type of belief you're offering."

Isadora scowled, not impressed by Lincoln's skepticism. "Scientology believes that evil alien overlord spirits inhabit your body. The key to getting rid of them is to pay them hundreds of thousands of dollars," she stated. "They are very wealthy."

Lincoln paused for a moment and then shrugged his shoulders. "Well Isadora, you got me there. I retract my statement. I guess there is room for a venture into a business of the religious nature. My boss can be convinced."

Isadora smiled. "Then it is agreed," she said as she turned to my direction. "Lucy will partic.i.p.ate in one of my private voodoo blessings. Once she's experienced my faith, the Midnight Society will become the benefactor of my religious expansion. In return, I shall deliver you three million dollars out of my own pocket."

"Those terms are acceptable, with the exception of Lucy being involved in one of your voodoo ceremonies," Lincoln replied, "Especially without me being there."

Isadora shook her head. "Those are the terms. I will not do business with an organization that does not believe in what I have to offer."

"What if I took her place?" Beau asked.