A/N: I thought I would try my hand at some playful/lighthearted stuff since my other story is kind of angsty.

Outside of St. Louis cemetery number 1, a young woman of creole descent presents a gift of pound cake near the tomb of Marie Laveau and begins to chant ancient voodoo prayer. When she is finished she kisses her hand and presses to the grave marker. Rising to her feet, she met with a gristly sight; the body of woman dressed in a Naval uniform.

12 hours later…

"Do you believe in Voodoo, Brody?" Chris LaSalle looked up at the large orange full moon as he stepped out from the Denali and up onto the curb. He and Brody had been called to one of the Bourbon street vendors to investigate the murder of petty officer who actively practiced the ancient religion.

Meredith Brody looked at her partner skeptically as she entered the Marie Laveau's House of Voodoo. Although the overall culture of New Orleans was beginning to grow on her, she had not yet allowed herself to believe that Voodoo was anything more than a religion that had been started by slaves who came to New Orleans from the French colonies.

Body shifted her eyes toward a display of voodoo dolls, "You mean do I believe in sticking dolls with pins?"

"It's actually called a poppet," a sales women behind the counter added. "Would you be interested in learning about how it works?"

"Maybe some other time," LaSalle flashed his badge. "NCIS, we're here to ask you some questions about one of your customers."

The women's eyes widened in wonder giving Brody the opportunity for explanation. The agent pulled out photograph of an African American women with her eyes gouged out. "Do you know this woman? "

The sales woman noticeably blanched at the photo.

"Take your time," LaSalle prompted, allowing the woman a moment to get over the gristly photo.

The woman drew in a breath. "Yes, that is Marguerite Bonnet. She is a regular customer. She comes in at least once a month to purchase herbs for gris-gris bags."

"What?" Brody's face twisted in confusion at the unfamiliar lingo.

"A gris-gris bag," LaSalle repeated. "Voodoo practitioners use them to inflict harm on their intended victim."

"A hex bag?" Brody tossed partner a doubtful glance.

The saleswoman reached for a book behind the counter and opened it to the appropriate page giving the female agent a clear picture. "Back in the 1700's the Voodoo Queens would fill the bags with variety of items: herbs, feathers, hair, anything that they felt would increase the power of their spell. "

Brody allowed a disbelieving smile to cross her lips as she looked at the picture.

"You are a non-believer," the woman behind the counter looked at the educated agent with a tight grin of her own.

"I believe that Marguerite Bonnet was murdered and that someone who has knowledge of Voodoo is responsible." Brody pushed the book across the counter. "But I don't believe that anything supernatural was involved.

Brody turned quickly to find an elderly African American women all of 4 feet 10 inches standing before her. The small woman looked up at the agent with exotic, angry violet irises. In her hand she held a stick like object adorned with feathers and skulls.

"Oh my Gosh, I didn't see you," Brody started to apologize when the woman began to chant in an ancient Cajun dialect.

Inching forward, the smaller woman forced the female agent to take a couple of steps back. Truth be told, Brody was a little freaked out by people who invaded her personal space. A wave of unpleasantness washed over her as the woman's voice began to increase with intensity.

"What is she saying?" A feeling of dread washed over LaSalle. He'd spent enough time in New Orleans to know that Voodoo was not something to be taken lightly. As strange as it sounded, he'd seen some things that just couldn't be explained.

"She just placed a hex on your partner," the sales woman explained before circling around the counter and stepping in between the older woman and Brody. "I'm very sorry; my Grandmother was a devout practitioner before Alzheimer's took over her mind."

It's all right, we're finished here," Brody said heading for the door.

"You spend enough time in here and you'll become a believer," LaSalle chided as the door to the shop closed behind them.

"Are you a believer?" Brody challenged sarcastically, stopping just short of the curb. The idea that her well educated partner would actually believe in the occult intrigued her. She was just getting to know Chris and all of his Southern ways and his cultural beliefs. But Voodoo? She had never pegged him for anything like that.

LaSalle gave her his best grin as he opened the passenger door, "I believe that old women just placed a hex on you because you disrespected her religion."

"I didn't disrespect anybody's religion," Brody countered.

"Why don't you go back in there and tell her that?"

"Chris, I was just doing my job and the last time I checked, we solve murders based on science and fact."

LaSalle touched her arm, "all I'm saying it couldn't hurt to go back in there and apologize."

Brody studied his face, noting the concern. "Oh My God!" She began to laugh, "You really believe in this stuff!"

Brody circled around the driver's side and slid up into the leather cushion. After pulling on her seat belt she pressed her foot into the break and tapped the automatic start button to ignite the engine. The 2014 Denali began to rev and sputter. Brody pressed the start button again but the engine refused to come to life.

"Seriously?" Brody let out a sigh of exasperation.

"I'm tellin' you, I think you need to apologize," LaSalle said as he opened the door and stepped out of the vehicle.

Later that evening, the two agents joined Pride, agent Patton Plame and Lieutenant Addie Watkins in the courtyard of Pat O'Brian's. As things had turned out, Addie had a connection to the deceased petty officer. Marguerite or "Daisy" as Addie referred to her served as a Yeomen 2nd class in the Lieutenant's Command.

As Addie spoke, Brody watched how LaSalle was looking at her. One thing certain, he was starting to care for the tall slender Lieutenant and she was happy for him. At least that's what she told herself as she sipped on house Merlot.

"Tarot Card reading?" A woman clothed in gypsy like attire appeared at their table. "It's free."

"No, thank you," Pride said coolly pulling a couple bills from his pocket to engage the rest of the table. Like most of the locals, Pride knew that many of the street people in the Parrish made their living from engaging tourists in the lore of the local culture. Every now and then he liked to play along.

The woman then looked at LaSalle.

"Ok, I'll bite." The Alabama born agent quipped taking a pull from his beer.

The woman then fanned her cards out on the table for all to see. Christopher studied the cards for a moment if as he were plotting some sort of strategy. After several seconds he finally decided on a card; third from the left.

"I can't look," he teased handing the card to Addie.

Addie grinned as she flipped over the card, "Lovers."

LaSalle felt his face begin to burn as Brody, Pride and Patton burst out into a host of jeers.

"What about you, Agent Brody?" Addie asked when the cat calls died down.

Meredith felt her own cheeks flush as all eyes to fell to her. She was about to protest when LaSalle called her out.

"What do you have to lose?" You're a non-believer aren't ya?"

"Alright." Reaching forward, Brody chose the center card and recoiled quickly.

LaSalle was the first to notice the change in her expression as she looked at the card. Clearly, she had not drawn Good Fortune or Strength.

"What did you get?" Patton asked eagerly.

"Death," Brody answered calmly setting the card on the table for all to see.