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Her full name was Labyrinthia Pennyweight Babineaux, but her closest friends called her Libby. She was of blended French, German, and Native American heritage. Her Great Great Grandparents were said to have come from a practically non-existent town on the Bay of Fundy called Shorn Otter. They were deported by British authorities to Louisiana along with most of their French Acadian brethren in The Exile of 1755. This occurred during what Europeans would later come to call the Seven Years War, but which the Babineaux’s had always referred to as The Incident. Their family Bible recorded the history of their transplantation in poignant detail.

Labyrinthia possessed the ethereal beauty that sometimes blesses those descended from mixed stock, with all the best traits of each inherited in well-balanced proportions. Her clear azure eyes could capture the light and give it back again enhanced by the experience of having been directed by her gaze. When she smiled, which was often, it was impossible to not smile along. Among her many charms, she was said to have the most beautiful ears God ever bestowed on a woman; and everyone knows what they say about a woman with beautiful ears. Her gracefulness betrayed a habit of being satisfied inside her own skin and most comfortable when in the nude.

She discovered her powers on Saint John’s Eve in the summer of her seventeenth year in a private garden located on the southern shore of Lake Pontchartrain. From early on she could levitate spirits and see through the fog of conflicting interests. She soon thereafter earned her reputation as White Witch of the Lower 9th Ward. She could wade shoeless through the bayou without getting her feet wet. She was famous for being able to tell the difference between a love affair and a love of fire. She parlayed her insight into cold, hard cash scripting reality docu-dramas for PBS television. She donated much of her earnings to charitable neighborhood endeavors. Young children were instinctively drawn to her and she knew games that kept them entertained, yet calm for enviable stretches of time. She spoke several obscure dialects of Cree, and her French sounded musical, with a sensual inflection that left her words trailing off at the end of each sentence as though they were fragrant, feathery wisps of the most exquisite perfume.

Libby never laughed out loud, but giggled in a girlish way that was disarming, yet provocative. She had the bearing of a midnight tryst in the City of Lights with a whiff of grapeshot thrown in for excitement. She spoke in a manner that illuminated a topic without the need for flashy alliteration. If she chose to be intimate with you, she could get you to tell her those things you’ve never dared confide in anyone. While at play, she required the use of several safe words and in the aftermath, she’d leave you feeling as though you’d been cleansed. She loved sipping absinthe while listening to Django Rhinehart recordings on Sunday mornings. Around her slender neck she wore a delicate gold chain. Suspended from it was a solitary pear-shaped diamond. She would never say from where it came, but would sometimes hold the stone between her graceful fingers as though it were her most cherished treasure, or her most onerous burden.
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