Lilly smiled and answered smartly, “I was told I had a job here today.”
Jolene did a double take as her mouth fell open. “Oh, mon Dieu, you look completely different. You will be safe.”
The smile faded from Lilly’s face, she shivered, fear churned in her stomach and exploded into anxiety. “Will I be safe? Can a disguise work? How long before he finds me? He will kill me if he finds me now.”
“Nonsense,” Jolene said firmly, “he’s not going to do anything to you. I am going to teach you a quick way to protect yourself. The first step of self-protection: Call on your spirit guides, guardians and allies. Speak these words out loud or in your mind, ‘Spirit guides, guardians and allies, please be with me and protect me.’
“Second step: In your mind’s eye, create a mirrored, protective egg around your body. The mirrored-egg creates a bubble of protection and repels harmful energy. Positive energy will flow through to you. Make those specifications the first time you create your protective bubble.”
“Third step: Thank your spirit guides, guardians and allies. You are safe to head out the door.”
“I, as well as many of my students, have used the mirrored-egg protection. It works beautifully. Once you create it, with intention, it will become second nature for you to call on it before you step outside.”
“Remember to create it before you leave the safety of Panthea’s. Our wards are strong in the shop. Once you are out on the street, your mirrored-egg will provide the protection you need.”
Biting her lower lip for a second, Lilly nodded slowly. “Thank you. I need to feel safe if I’m going to make a new life for myself.” After some discussion and a few giggles, Lilly and Jolene agreed she would go by the name of Lyla in the shop. The pseudonym was the final piece of her disguise.
~
After weeks of working days and spending secluded nights in her apartment, Lilly grew weary of her self- imposed confinement. On her day off from her job at Panthea’s she stood in her apartment, called forth the mirrored-egg of protection and ventured out the door and into the streets of the French Quarter.
Wearing large dark glasses and a big floppy hat, another gift from Madeline, Lilly set out to explore. She discovered a second-hand store on Royal Street called The Far Out. Rummaging through used clothing, shoes, boots, jewelry, books, scarves and a hundred other unique items, Lilly created a new look for herself. She began to relax as she blended in with the artists, hippies and gypsy’s living in the Quarter. She walked among them dressed in long velvet skirts, colorful gypsy blouses, lacy, fringed shawls and knee-high suede boots. Striding confidently, she caught a glimpse of herself in a store window. Stopping to examine her reflection, she was surprised by the young woman looking out at her. The casual observer would never recognize the carefree, spirited, young hippie as the tortured, rail-thin, battered wife she had been a short time ago.
Even though her disguise was good and she trusted the mirrored-egg protection, wariness lingered. She continued to scan the sidewalks, determined no one from the Castiglio family lurked nearby.
Nurse Trudy had been right about the anonymity available in the French Quarter. Lilly was grateful she had taken her advice. The regular inhabitants of New Orleans: the affluent uptown families, the old money families in the Garden District and those who made the white flight to the suburbs, were not comfortable in the French Quarter of 1972.
Residents of the French Quarter lived along the narrow cobblestone streets, sat on balconies overlooking lush courtyards and called their home by its original name, Vieux Carre, or simply The Quarter.
Artists, musicians, and eccentrics frequented the sidewalk cafes near Jackson Square. Old men, with pointed goatees, smoked cigars as they sipped absinthe or drank rich coffee with chicory.
Young women sold head wreaths of flowers streaming multi-colored ribbons. Street musicians played on corners, day and night. They dipped their heads in thanks, as bottom up hats caught the tossed coins of passersby. The scene thrilled Lilly. She entertained the idea of joining the ranks of the street musicians but first she needed a flute.
Jackson Square was full of artists sitting under brightly colored umbrellas, smoking cigarettes and gossiping as they waited for their next customer to approach.
Bourbon Street bustled with tourists seeking forbidden thrills. Barkers opened doors allowing momentary glimpses of young women slithering seductively on silver poles. Captured by the darker side of the French Quarter, the young strippers tossed their long hair, revealing sequined pasties glittering the nipples of their ample breasts. Jazz musicians shook their heads, as the dancers undulated to the hard beat of the psychedelic rock and roll blasting over the jazz that had once defined New Orleans.
The buildings, old and crumbling, the cheap rent, and the laissez-faire attitude of the inhabitants drew in the free love generation. The young freaks and hippies poured out of VW vans and old school buses painted in mind-blowing psychedelic colors. They came looking for the good vibes, sex, drugs and rock and roll that had played themselves out in San Francisco. The French Quarter opened its warm arms to their free spirits, long hair, and love beads.
Lilly blended and thrived in the colorful milieu of the Quarter. Although she had not yet awakened to the secret world of the French Quarter, the world of the supernatural, her gift of ‘sight’ once again kicked in occasionally. In those moments, she caught a glimpse of psychedelic fractals swirling around the newly arrived flower children.
~
Working in the shop, Lilly listened intently as Jolene discussed the practice of witchcraft and the mystic’s path with regular customers in the shop. After her first month working
