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       #Post#: 20447--------------------------------------------------
       Multiversal Story: Bargg’s Bayou Bistro – Chapter 3: Shadows, Sp
       ells, and Shrimp Creole
       By: Raven Tepes Date: October 20, 2025, 6:34 pm
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       It had been three weeks since the cook-off. Business at Bargg’s
       Bayou Bistro was booming again, and the troll had every reason
       to be happy. Yet, the crystal around his neck pulsed with
       unease.
       Something was off.
       The shrimp deliveries were arriving late, his spices spoiled
       overnight, and twice in the same week, the bistro’s gumbo had
       turned sour mid-service. That wasn’t bad luck — that was magic.
       Bargg slammed his ladle on the counter. “Crystal, I don’t need
       you to tell me who’s behind this. Smells like vampire trickery
       and swamp rot.”
       The gem thrummed softly in agreement.
       So that evening, Bargg closed up shop early, packed a jug of his
       best crawfish étouffée, and trudged into the misty bayou —
       following the winding road to The Loa’s Lantern, a ramshackle
       bar perched over the water like a half-drunk heron.
       Lanterns made from old whiskey bottles flickered along the
       porch, and a fiddle tune wove through the cypress trees. Inside,
       a woman with a mane of silver curls was wiping down the bar with
       a rag that glowed faintly blue.
       “Laura Duperon,” Bargg rumbled, ducking through the door. “You
       got a minute, chère?”
       Laura looked up, a smile tugging at her lips. “Well, if it ain’t
       my favorite troll. You look like you swallowed a thundercloud.
       What’s wrong, sugar?”
       Bargg set down the étouffée. “Vampire’s playin’ dirty. Lucien
       Devereaux. Keeps messin’ with my food, my shipments, my
       business.”
       Laura arched an eyebrow. “That silk-suited leech from Uptown?
       He’s been sniffin’ around my turf too. Tried to charm my
       supplier last week.” She flicked her wrist, and the lanterns
       dimmed. “You sure it’s him behind your trouble?”
       Bargg nodded. “Crystal says it’s his magic. I need help to scrub
       it out.”
       Laura leaned on the bar, her bracelets jingling like tiny bells.
       “You come to the right woman. I know every spirit, shade, and
       snake in these waters. But if he’s usin’ shadowcraft, we’ll need
       to fight it on his level.”
       She poured them both a drink — something dark and smoky that
       made Bargg’s eyes water. “We’ll do it the old way — a cleansing
       of fire, salt, and sound. You bring your crystal. I’ll bring the
       spirits.”
       They began at midnight.
       Out on the dock behind The Loa’s Lantern, Laura drew a circle of
       salt and bay leaves while Bargg placed his crystal at the
       center, its blue glow reflecting on the black water. The air
       thrummed with energy, alive with the buzz of cicadas and the
       whisper of ghosts.
       Laura began to chant, her voice low and rhythmic, weaving Creole
       and ancient tongue into the humid air. Bargg’s crystal pulsed in
       time with her words, brightening — then flaring, as if fighting
       something unseen.
       From the swamp, shadows started to rise — oily tendrils twisting
       like smoke. They formed faces, cold and cruel, whispering in
       Lucien’s velvet tone:
       “You can’t keep your kitchen clean, beast. You’ll never belong
       among men.”
       Bargg growled, gripping the dock until it creaked. “You talk too
       much, fang-face.”
       Laura’s eyes flashed white. “Back to the dark with you!” she
       shouted, hurling a handful of red dust into the circle. Fire
       blazed up, and the shadows screamed — then snapped away like
       broken strings.
       The air went still.
       The crystal settled to a steady glow, calm and pure.
       Laura wiped sweat from her brow and poured herself a drink.
       “That’ll keep his spells off your place for a while. But Lucien
       won’t take the loss kindly.”
       Bargg sat beside her, the dock groaning under his weight. “He
       wants the city. Wants it all fancy and dead. Folks forgettin’
       how to laugh and eat and dance. That ain’t New Orleans.”
       Laura smiled wryly. “Then maybe it’s time someone reminded him.”
       Bargg tilted his head. “You got a plan, witchy?”
       “Oh, I got plans, cher.” She grinned, tapping the side of her
       glass. “You ever hear of the Feast of Spirits?”
       “The festival out by the bayou every All Souls’ Eve?”
       “That’s the one. I say we host it this year — you cook, I
       conjure, and every ghost and ghoul in the parish comes to eat.
       Let Lucien see who really owns this city’s heart.”
       Bargg chuckled, tusks glinting in the lantern light. “You’re
       trouble, Laura.”
       “Damn right,” she said, raising her glass. “But I’m your kind of
       trouble.”
       They clinked glasses, the swamp humming softly around them. The
       first light of dawn crept across the water as the trolls’
       crystal shimmered — stronger now, cleansed, ready.
       And far across town, in the shadowed heart of Crimson & Clove,
       Lucien Devereaux stared into his black mirror — his crimson eyes
       narrowing.
       “So,” he murmured, swirling a glass of something thick and dark,
       “the troll has friends.”
       He smiled — thin and dangerous.
       “Good. The game just got interesting.”
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