A/N: This tale started as an anything-goes tale for National Novel Writing Month, a mash-up of two different fandoms (the other for a Rockband That Shall Remain Nameless due to FanFicNet's rules). Because of this, the story reads a bit split-personality at first. This posting is also a re-write/edit to correct this tale's backstory as established by my other stories, correct the time frame & year (per the show, Voodoo Doll takes place in '78: the initial mistake was mine), and to clean up other matters.

The characters of Frank & Joe Hardy, their dad Fenton and Aunt Gertrude and the town of Bayport belong to Simon & Schuster. Those characters as portrayed here are from the 1970s TV show, "The Hardy Boys Nancy Drew Mysteries", created by Glen A. Larson. This tale is based on the episode "Voodoo Doll", original teleplay written by Stephen Ujlaki, Mark Griffiths, Michael Sloan & Christopher Crowe; the characters of Orrin Thatcher, Doctor Duvee (Dove), Claire, & Josette are from that episode, though the re-interpretation of them is my own.
With that in mind, all the other characters & situations not mentioned or referenced above are my own creations & fault. Be patient - this is all set up for an ongoing series!

Please note: the show sets Bayport in MA, and that's what I run with. Here, the brothers are a bit older, 18 & 19. Any other differences, please attribute them to the show; I try to reconcile blue-spine canon with the show when I can, but the show will trump the books.

Also, the original episode is extremely disrespectful & inaccurate concerning Voodoo as it is practiced in New Orleans; the Hardys' attitude depicted here is directly from the episode. I've tried to correct matters, and I gratefully acknowledge Jerry Gandolfo of The Voodoo Museum in New Orleans for his assistance with terminology, religion, and culture.

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1978: New Orleans, LA

Josette sat fidgeting in the back corner of the cafe — a small hole-in-the-wall at the back of an alley. Nothing unusual for New Orleans, but on stage, oh, on stage…

She watched the man, this Doctor Duveé, go through his gimmicky voodoo act, silk cloths into doves, fire breathing, nothing special, nothing that a dozen other gimmicky stage magicians weren't doing in similar back-alley bars. But her sister had worked here. Her sister had written, a glowing, raving account of what she was learning from a 'doctor' she had met in this bar, and then nothing. Nothing, but this was the only trail she had.

"And now," the Doctor said, "the most feared of all…" He held up a large voodoo doll, the cheap souvenir kind sold by the thousands throughout the French Quarter; with a shout and a spurt of flame from the braziers behind him, he stabbed a pin through the doll's head.

A scream rang through the bar. Pain lanced through Josette's temples — blinding, incapacitating. She staggered up, only to feel hands on her, soft gentle hands leading her away, and a familiar voice telling her not to worry, she'd be taken care of, others laughing — just part of the show. She couldn't react to that voice; she wanted to, she wanted to ask what was going on — but she couldn't move, couldn't fight, as if a soft blanket enveloped her limbs despite the blinding pain in her head…

…and then she knew nothing, only blackness.