“I got to say somethin’,” Ishe began. He worked his mouth some and took a deep breath. “I see you with that Jamey fella all the time. How’s it workin’ out?”
Liza looked out the window, contemplating. “It’s not.”
“I suppose you could be blind enough not to see. Truth is, I’m probably better than most at hidin’.” He flicked his gaze over at Liza and turned back to the road. “What I mean to say is that he ain’t the only man that think highly of you.”
“Ishe—”
“Let me finish.” Ishe gripped the steering wheel and, aside from a pained glance over at Liza, kept his gaze fixed on the road. “I had a wife. I still love her, but I won’t never see her again. I made a promise to be true to her until the day I died. But then I met you, and all the feelings I fought to bottle up since that first day—well, they keep bubblin’ up. Done blown that cap clean off.”
Liza blinked. Her whole body tingled. Relief? Yes, and a gleeful delight. She glanced over at Ishe and wanted more than anything to reach out and squeeze his hand, but no matter what sorry state their relationship was in right now, she had stirrings of something akin to love for Jamey. What could she say, though? She certainly felt something for Ishe.
Her silence said everything that her mouth couldn’t, with no words needed. Liza was grateful when, up ahead, a tiny speck that grew as they came closer appeared directly in their path.
“What is that?”
Liza squinted, trying to make out the object. When they were nearly upon it, Ishe stopped the car and they scrambled out. The boulder was exactly as Hope had described it. Liza ran her fingers over the figures. A battle scene was carved into the surface: her people in fields and on plantations, weapons raised, brandished.
“Hope said to turn . . .” Ishe pointed.
“That way,” he and Liza said at the same time.
And there it was. About a mile away rose a mound of reddish-brown earth so high they had to crane their necks to take it all in.
“That mountain came out of nowhere,” Liza said. “It wasn’t there when we first pulled up.”
“Sure as hell wasn’t.”
Back in the truck, they hadn’t driven a good five minutes before the mountain, which they were certain was much farther away, loomed directly in front of them. Ishe had to slam on the brakes to avoid smashing into it. He threw out his right arm as he did so to stop Liza from crashing into the dashboard. She gave him a weak smile, and they exited the truck, taking in the sight of the lone mountain in the middle of all the nothingness.
To say that the way up was steep was like saying the boat trip across the Atlantic Ocean was a leisurely ferry ride down the bayou. From the base of the mountain, the slope swept upward to a flattened peak. Liza planted her fists on her hips and stood with a furrowed brow and mouth hanging open. “There is no way—”
“Let’s get you to your sit-down.”
Ishe spied a path and started walking. Liza huffed and sprinted in front of him. She hadn’t even seen the path at first, but there it was. Besides the occasional loose rocks, the way was fairly easy. They moved at a good clip, anxious now. But in moments, it seemed they’d circled the mountain once and come back to what looked like exactly where they’d started. Liza stopped and scratched her head. There the truck sat, right where they’d left it.
“Didn’t we . . .”
“Start out here . . .”
Then the low rumble of a hearty chuckle filled the air and grew into a booming sound that echoed all around them.
“Come,” the voice said.
Before them, the earth shifted as if a great celestial hand were rearranging the pieces of a puzzle. Their gazes were drawn aloft by a squawking, soaring raven. When they looked down again, the trail had turned into a bed of pebbles, a trickle of water flowing peacefully over the rocks. Beside the bed was a wider path, marked with a sprinkling of feathers. They set off, but as Ishe set his foot on the path, he was held fast.
“What’s wrong?” Liza asked as she turned back.
Ishe tried to move again, but a sledgehammer of air and dust knocked him to the ground. “Looks like whatever you need to hear is for you alone. Go on,” he said, waving her off. “I’m all right.”
Liza exhaled, steeled her wobbly legs, and continued up the path. Within minutes she was breathing heavily, her dry mouth hanging open and sucking in air in short, ragged gasps. The way up the mountain grew steeper and more rugged. Twice already, Liza had had to grab ahold of an outcropping of rock to haul herself up. She had a few bloodied stubs of fingernails to prove it.
Though the sky was coated with thick clouds, the sun battered her every step. It glinted off the stones, blinded her eyes, seared her face, and seeped up through the thin soles of her boots. She seemed to have been walking for hours when the air grew cooler; chill bumps pushed up through the sweat. Liza looked down—and remembered the warning never to do that too late. She stumbled and almost toppled over the edge when she took in the tiny speck below that she could only guess was Ishe.
She bent over, resting her hands on her knees, heart pounding in her ears and chest. Thirst and sore feet and the gnawing pang of a missed breakfast suggested she turn back. And she did.
But the same unseen foe that had so easily flattened Ishe turned on her, one mighty swing sending her sprawling—stopping short of the cliff’s edge. Going back wasn’t an option.
“Where are you!” Liza cried out and then broke down in tearless sobs; even her eyes were too dry.
She cursed as she struggled to her feet, wincing at the fatigue of a thousand-year march. Plodding forward and growing weaker with every step, she had no idea how long she’d been walking. As she collapsed onto her hands and knees, she willed herself forward, inch by inch.
After a seemingly endless trek, she rounded a bend and came onto a plateau, somehow carved right in the side of the mountain. The glaring sun was replaced by a twilight hurtling toward darkness. A barely legible weatherworn sign hung from a post that read BRADDOCK’S POINT CEMETERY. Oak trees soared from the sandy ground, dripping Spanish moss. Graves hastily marked with strips of wood filled the space. The few stone markers were embedded with plates. Liza had read about these; they were meant to give the deceased something to eat from in the next world. A slave graveyard, then.
Drums beat a rhythm that Liza had only dreamed about. But there were no drummers, only a wizened old man dressed in a suit of colorful cloth, a crown of intricately woven straw on his head. His skin was lined and creased as a man in his late years, but he came to his feet with the quickness of a man a quarter his age. The smells of roasting meats and breads and other foods of her ancestors wafted by, teasing her empty stomach.
“Sit.” He beckoned Liza forward with a wave of his hand.
Liza got to her feet, staggered forward, and sank to the ground.
“Drink this.” The man held out his hand, and a bowl appeared.
Liza snatched the bowl, took a big gulp, and coughed half the bitter broth back up. The man inclined his head at the obvious question in her eyes. She drank again, this time emptying the bowl. Her hunger and thirst were surprisingly sated.
“You know what sleeps inside your companion?” the old man asked.
“I do,” Liza answered. She felt a presence shimmering off the man that she couldn’t describe. It buffeted her on all sides, but instead of wanting to run, she felt like she never wanted to leave his presence. The warmth and protection she felt were like none other she had ever experienced. She almost wept with the joy of it.
“He will never be rid of it,” the old man said. “Even his descendants may not be safe.”
Liza shrugged it off. She cared for Ishe. She’d reined him in once, and she would do it again and again if he needed her.
“But that is not why you are here. I have waited long to set my own eyes on Ella’s daughter.”
A sharp criticism was on her tongue, but Liza held it back.
“Yes.” The man stood ta
ller. “Oya’s daughter, Ella Meeks.”
Daughter? Mama had never talked about her family. What kind of mother was Oya? Warm and loving? Or had Mama inherited her inclination toward distance?
Oya barreled into her thoughts then, her mirth a splinter of lightning. What kind of mother am I? A copper sword arced through the sky and landed at her feet. I am storm-bringing warrior and nurturing mother. I am always with you and everyplace else I need to be. Guardian of the realm between life and death. I am loved and feared, protector and transformer. I am eternal and unforgettable. Does that answer your question, granddaughter?
Thrilled but terrified, Liza whispered that it did, and with a thunderclap, the copper sword was gone.
She turned back to the old man, who gave her a knowing nod. “Why call me all the way out here? Why put me through this?”
“Did your people not suffer on the Middle Passage?”
Well, of course. Do I need a reenactment? This man—
“Spirit,” he corrected aloud. “I am no man. I am a spirit. My name is Ago.”
“This amulet.” She took it out; much of her soreness was gone. Must have been that nasty broth. “You called me here to tell me about them?”
“You must let go of your anger,” Ago said. “It will only muddy your thoughts, and to think nimbly, you must have a clear mind.”
Liza was about to say she wasn’t angry at anybody, but that would have been a lie. And he still hadn’t answered her question. Why could the spirits never be direct?
“Have you considered that it is you, the living, who do not listen closely enough?” There was the beginning of a smile at the corner of his mouth. Ago took the amulet and turned it over in gnarled hands, holding each disc up to her.
The edges of Liza’s vision blurred. She swayed but managed to stay upright. In a detached stupor, she felt herself lift and float across the ocean and into what she could describe only as a dream world. The forest and trees looked real enough, but the entire scene was draped in a subtle glow. Liza was drawn to a lone elephant at the edge of a pond. From the plumed headband to the brilliantly dyed cowskin wrap and fringe encircling the ankles, only one word came to her mind: “regal.” The large ears perked, eyes looking skyward as if waiting for her. She floated and settled down into its waiting body.
Their spirits mingled and merged, and the regalia faded away. Immediately Liza was suffused with the weight of the new form. It was like the animal’s bulk had been slung around her shoulders. Skin dry and mud caked as if baked under a never-ending sun. Liza twitched, squirmed, labored under the burden. In answer, Elephant’s trunk snaked out, drank in the pond’s cool water, and doused it over her head.
You were expecting a queen’s welcome? The elephant spoke in a series of deep groans and rumbles that Liza understood nonetheless. I am the revered queen of queens; you are but a child. Know this, a hunter who sets out nursing a secret grief or grudge will only wound her prey and will not get the kill. Death has the key to open the hoarder’s chest.
A scene unfolded, and Liza observed herself, as if she were a character in a book. A presence that she knew instinctively was death oozed toward her. Horrified, she bolted. Death was a calm river carving a path through the cracked earth behind her. She ran until exhaustion slowed her to a crawl. And there, where she lay panting, a chest appeared out of nowhere. It looked to be made of human bones woven through with dried grass. Behind her, Death persisted, igniting another jolt of fear. Hadn’t Elephant said something about opening a hoarder’s chest? There was no lock. She yanked at the cover, which opened a sliver before it snapped shut. Liza pulled and tore at the cover until her fingernails were ragged and slick with panicked blood.
Elephant brought her back.
Together she and Elephant trumpeted before the spirit imparted a bit of wisdom.
The spirits desire to leave two things to our children: the first is roots; the other is wings.
Liza felt a pang of regret as her ethereal self left the elephant and drifted upward. A passing raven latched its claws painfully into her shoulders. She pressed into the graceful, agile form. Swirling around, entangling her soul with Raven’s. The wind tufted at glossy black wings three feet in length, and a humanlike caw escaped from a longish beak.
There is a hunger in the ancestor realm, do you not feel it?
Liza did feel hungry.
I will not ask as much of you as the other spirits, but I do need a favor.
Spotting a badger feasting on the remains of a dead antelope, Raven soared to the earth, landing on spry feet with a bounce under cover of some bushes. It was as if Liza’s insides were turning inside out as Raven opened its beak wide, peeling it back over its head, spitting her out like an unwanted bone.
Lure the badger away.
Liza hesitated; Raven’s eyes were shifty.
Trust me. Now, think of something.
Liza thumbed her translucent chin and came up with an idea. She shook the bushes and made guttural bear noises, causing as much of a ruckus as she could. Before long, Badger retreated someplace out of sight.
Raven coaxed Liza forward, gesturing at the carcass on the ground. The bird sank its beak into the animal flesh, then turned to Liza, waiting. She bristled. The battle of wills continued until Liza realized that this, too, was part of the test she must pass.
Liza gagged at the strip of meat that slithered down her throat, bits and pieces of bloody revulsion.
Raven cawed, and before her, the animal carcass dissolved into a pile of ash and bone. And that awful feeling of the flesh in Liza’s gut was gone. As Raven alighted, it swooped over and lifted her by the shoulders once more. They found Badger a few wingbeats away and spewed the consumed ash down on it. Badger hissed, and curses followed. Raven chose that moment to loosen its claws, sending Liza on a nosedive back to the earth. And in her head, the strangest sound she’d ever heard—Raven’s sly, cunning laughter.
The ash and bone were right where they’d left them. The ashes, though, began to crackle and smolder. Embers fused and solidified . . . the chest. And in the distance, beneath an ocean-colored sky, Death pursued. She set to work on the chest cover as Death surged behind her with devastating conviction. When it was perilously close, Death extended a ghastly hand to latch on to her foot.
Liza was jerked away and landed into Badger; the new body felt small, low to the ground, but powerful. The spirit fought her initially, trying to batter her out of its body, but soon grew curious enough to leave her be.
In a span of a few seconds, though, Liza’s wispy form was expelled and landed with a thud. Badger shook off the offending ash that Raven had spewed and stood on hind legs, roaring right before her. It hissed and bared its sharp fangs. When that trickster lands again, I will pluck the feathers from its body one by one before I sink my teeth into its belly, but you, on the other hand . . .
Liza backed away slowly, but the spirit sprang into action, nipping and snapping. At first, Liza sought only to shield, to protect herself. She screamed and pleaded for Ago to end this. Badger bit and scratched as she tumbled to the ground and curved into a tight ball. He was relentless, darting in and out, clawing her hands as she clasped them over her head. Badger taunted her. You were brave enough to conspire with that flying rat to cheat me of my meal; where is your courage now?
Liza pushed the anger down—Elephant had warned her, hadn’t she? Instead, she turned it into a fuel and drew from it as if from a well and rolled to her feet. Badger charged. She sidestepped a claw swipe and caught Badger with a good strong kick to the side. The alternating swipes and kicks continued until abruptly, the spirit halted its pursuit and nodded its approval. Badger sprinted off but spun and regarded her with a last indignant backward glance before it was gone.
Blood dripped from Liza’s mangled hand. The blood darkened and curdled, bubbling up to reveal the contours of the bone-and-grass chest. And soon her pursuer returned with it. Death reached out, annihilation at the tip of its finger. She dived for the che
st. It sprang open at her touch . . . but she didn’t get a chance to see what was inside.
Liza found herself sitting in front of Ago once more. She pulled her knees into her chest and buried her face. No scars or blood remained, but that didn’t stop her from thinking she’d just endured a test a million times harder than anything she’d done before. She gradually arranged the pieces of the message: Death was at her heels, and she’d have to unlock something, a mystery of sorts, if she had any hope of surviving.
When she finally looked up, she accepted the amulet from Ago, and they sat in a tense silence while she digested everything she’d seen. Each animal had a gift, a talent that would somehow help her.
“I need to know how to control them.”
“You cannot. You are human; they are spirits.” Ago gestured with his chin. “Ask your friend how well he controls his demon spirit. What you will do, if you are lucky, is coexist peacefully with your animal guides so that you may call upon them in need and be there for them when they must call upon you.”
Liza had never imagined that they might need her for something. But then she’d read many books that talked about how the spirits liked to meddle in the lives of the living.
“Until you learn to summon them at will, you will call them to you by repeating a mantra: Today, I ask that my animal guides reveal themselves to me. I wish to receive the gifts of sight so that they may reveal what I cannot see, guide, and protect me in the coming storm.
“Repeat it,” Ago commanded.
As Liza was thinking that she should have brought a pencil and paper, Ago’s words played in her mind as if she were reading from a magazine. Only the image was imprinted there, like a stamp. She closed her eyes and repeated the words.
Faster this time, the animals appeared, all together. She wondered how best to communicate. She had some questions; she’d start there.
Bacchanal Page 25
