Whispered footsteps, hushed whisperings. Were they trying to remain unheard? Because that would be quite the feat, seeing as one of them had just knocked on the door. Never mind that, Facilier picked up a handful of dirt and blew on it, awakening all the odds and ends in the room. Customers always appreciated seeing the masks lit up from an unknown source and voodoo dolls with agile movements. They were things that made the entire "voodoo magic man" gig more realistic. However, it truly was real, whether people realized it or not.
The door opened on it's own, and Facilier emerged from the shadows. "Good evening, folks. I am the honorable Dr. Facilier, specializing in potions, spells, and any means necessary of making your dreams come true." He looked; but no one was there. Literally, no one. Who had knocked at the door? Who was playing a prank on the Shadow Man himself? As he mulled this over, he felt a tug on his pant leg, and looked down to see a little boy staring up at him with wide eyes. He couldn't have been more than four years old. Something about his dimples reminded Facilier of someone, though he couldn't exactly place the memory. He looked left and right, hoping that maybe the boy's parents were hiding somewhere in the parlor, but he saw no one.
He looked down at the child. "Hello, little tike. I don't s'pose y'all've got a momma or a daddy around here, do ya?" He smiled, hoping that a show of positive emotion would persuade the child to answer.
No words came out of the child's mouth; he just smiled, keeping a small bundle of Facilier's pant leg in his hand, as if it was a comfort to have it there. A small breeze blew across the back of Facilier's neck, causing him to shiver; the door slammed shut. The candles that had been lit were now blown out, all at once, and the eerie sourceless lights illuminating the masks were dimmed. A spotlight seemed to shine on Facilier; he looked down again, and the child was gone.
"Facilier. You have no idea how long I've been trying to find you." A voice, a woman's voice, seemed not to be around him, but in his head. He couldn't help but listen. "For years now, you've managed to stay under the radar, but I was able to procure some help from some…friends, let's call them. And now, here you are, once again in my power." The woman's voice laughed, a familiar sound. It couldn't be.
Facilier's face became stern, finding none of this funny in the least bit. "Henrietta Dunn. My, it has been a while." He smiled sarcastically, still wondering where she was. A shadow emerged from the corner, closely followed by a familiar female form. Average height, skinny as six o'clock, and more beautiful than Aphrodite. She truly was a privilege for any man to be with, and Facilier had had that privilege years ago. He smiled, remembering his short time with her. "You're as beautiful as ever, ma'am." He smiled, bowed. "To what may I owe this momentous occasion, seeing one so lovely again?"
The lights in the room returned to normal, the candles relit and the masks' lights dimming. She set down the boy, who his behind her legs, barely poking out his head enough to look at the string bean of a man standing before them. "I came to give you something." She pulled the boy out from behind her, pushing him toward Facilier. The boy went back to the woman, this time standing in front of her, looking down at the ground. "This is Warren. He's my, our, son."
Facilier's jaw gaped. He pointed at the boy, his son, and shook his head in disbelief. "I have…you had…you were…why didn't you tell me?" He looked at her, unsure of how to feel. For now, he just hoped to have his questions answered.
She smiled. "He's three, he'll be four in June. The 15th. I never told you because I never got the chance. You left before I'd even woken up, and I had no idea how to find you. Luckily…I've dabbled in the voodoo arts since then. I'm afraid that I can no longer take care of him. He's your responsibility now." With that, she snapped her fingers. All light left the room for just a moment, and she was gone. Warren was still standing in his place, as if he had no idea she had left. He turned around and realized she was no longer standing behind him, supporting him. In her place was a suitcase, which Facilier assumed was filled with items of Warren's. Three years old, and apparently just abandoned by the only parent he'd known, Warren sat down and started crying silently. The longer he went on, the more violently he cried, though he never truly made a sound. Facilier would've been sympathetic, had he been able to process what had just happened.
"I…have…a son…" He realized now that the boy's dimples were the ones that he had seen in the mirror through his 20's. The boy's eyes were the same brilliant blue as Henrietta's. His hair was raven and curly, as both of his parents. His skin was a lovely mocha color, a perfect median between Henrietta's porcelain and Facilier's light ebony. The child resembled both of his parents equally; now that Facilier saw this, he couldn't believe he hadn't realized this the moment he'd seen the boy. Warren.
He had a son.