by K.N. Lee
14
By the time Saint John’s Eve came, I was even frailer than ever. Marcus and Samuel both had to carry me to the cemetery where the ceremony would be held, and Aunt Vivian made a point of claiming I was simply being over-dramatic about the severity of my condition. I pointed out that she wouldn’t know, since she never had a proper initiation she never had to fast. At least not for this long.
This revelation was made to me by mistake, of course, briefly after Jim left. During a casual dinner conversation I asked her why she hadn’t advanced in the ranks. Having had one too many glasses of wine, she let it slip that she was fully aware of the fact that the only reason she held the position she did was because my mother had passed away. It wasn’t because of her age that my mother was next in line. In fact, Marie was five years younger than Aunt Vivian. But Aunt Vivian wasn’t a very strong healer, and in this world the more spiritually powerful you were the farther fate would carry you.
She even got a little misty-eyed when she talked about me being the new matriarch. Filomèz was right: she knew her fate. I actually let myself feel sorry for her for a moment. Until she made a rude crack about not being keen on handing the kingdom over to an outsider—me. That’s when I figured out she didn’t look at me as her family even the slightest bit. To her I was just a nobody who was here to steal her throne.
None of that mattered now. We were now approaching the moment that would change all of our lives and I was excited, terrified, and unnerved.
The night had fallen and I sat bare-skinned on the concrete bench on the inside of the familiar crypt from my dream. It was a compact space, but not nearly as stuffy as one might think it would be. Marcus had cleaned the cobwebs out the night before so I wouldn’t be distracted by my phobia of them. He said my mind needed to be as clear as possible for Damballah to make use of our conduit, but I preferred to think he was just being a sweetheart.
After soaking the ceremonial cloth in a well that took up most of the room, Samuel wrung it out over my legs, letting the liquid drip down them.
“How is it so warm?” I was expecting it to be room temperature at best, but it was as if the water was taken straight from a hot tub.
“A few hundred years ago, a witch put a spell on it,” Samuel explained.
“Wait, there are witches?”
Half of his upper lip curled, and he smirked at my ignorance. “Many of the things you have been taught to be fiction are indeed very real.”
“Oh.” College degree or not, this place made me feel incredibly uneducated. “Is that what I’m considered? A witch?”
“No. You’re a healer.”
“What’s the difference?”
He arched his eyebrows. “You don’t cast spells.”
Duh. I guess that was kind of obvious.
“Why did she put a spell on it?”
“This well was the only source of water for many of the settlers back then. The white settlers were wiping out anything they considered to be supernatural. Anything they weighed as a threat to their dominance. The witch had been captured and she was set to be taken to Salem so she could be executed. She escaped just long enough to come here and make sure her vengeance would keep on living even after her death.”
“What kind of spell did she put on it?” I was trying very hard to concentrate on what he was saying, but I was distracted by how much I enjoyed the feeling of his fingers massaging into my muscles as he scrubbed.
“A repeal spell. Anyone who drank from the well would be stripped of their powers.”
I jerked away from him. “Is that what is going to happen to me?”
“You’re not drinking it. You’re washing in it.” He took my leg and washed my calf. “All the magic that has been taken from millions of people is stored here. That’s why it’s warm: you’re feeling the pure energy of sorcery. Since you’re magical, your body will absorb it.”
“That doesn’t make sense. The settlers were from England. They weren’t witches. They wouldn’t have any magic for the well to take.”
He rolled his eyes at my naivety. “Think about it, Eliza. Do you really think a race of mortals really overpowered every single supernatural population without any help?”
“I don’t know,” I snapped. “You have to remember I was taught a very different version of history than you were.”
“Sorry.” He winced. “I guess when you grow up around it all, it’s hard to imagine not knowing about it. Anyway, the Christians used fear to eradicate our people. And by our people, I mean Voodoo and Native American alike. Along with witches, shifters, vampires. All of us.”
“Vampires?”
“Not the sex-fueled vampires of Hollywood, but vampires are a thing of reality. The church took on all of us, and won. If you ask them, they’ll tell you that it’s because God was on their side. But their walls were infiltrated by fallen angels who used their knowledge to wipe us all out so they could take over. If it wasn’t for the mother witch they might have been even more successful than they were. She took away their power so they could no longer take ours.”
“What are you?” I narrowed my eyes on him, expecting some out-of-this-world explanation.
“I’m a keeper.”
“Besides that! Your eyes shift when you’re angry the same way Aunt Vivian’s do.”
“Anyone who has otherworldly gifts does that. It’s kind of genetic.”
“OK.” I frowned, disappointed in the anticlimactic nature of it. “What about your heritage?”
“Is everybody ready?” Camille’s shrill voice was approaching from outside.
“Shit!” Samuel cursed.
“Seriously?” Blatantly annoyed with our lack of progress, she barged in paying absolutely no attention to the part where I was in my birthday suit. “Legba and Marassa have already been summoned and left. You should be dressed already. You’re going to put us way behind.”
Camille was wrapped a loose-fitting white robe, and her hair fell effortlessly in soft beach-tussled perfection. My own insecurity were creeping up on me again, and I pushed it out of my mind, hoping to have done it before Samuel caught it. He always chastised me for being so critical of myself.
“Sorry.” I knew I sounded insincere because I was. “We were just talking.”
She smacked her lips. “Yeah, I’m sure. Samuel, maybe you should head out. I can dress her. It’ll get done faster this way.”
In one swift move Samuel flew across the marble pathway and towered over the pretty blonde girl, who right now, next to Samuel’s huge build, looked more like a porcelain doll than a person. I didn’t think I could ever get used to how quickly he could move, especially considering his size.
“You will not touch her,” he growled in a frightening, dark tone.
“Samuel!” Even I was surprised by this show of barbaric domination despite knowing the intention behind it was nothing more than him trying to protect me.
Fear started to make its way into Camille’s eyes, but she never let her chin fall. Her posture was fierce and erect with her hands clenched at her sides. Her stare was just as fiery as his was.
It was in this moment I finally came to terms with the fact that it wasn’t her beauty I was really jealous of. I envied her confidence. A long, tense moment passed before she finally relented. It was a battle of who was more stubborn, and Samuel had won this time.
“Fine.” She waved her hand in his face. “Hurry it up. Vivian is getting antsy.” Mumbling something under her breath, she turned on her heels and stormed out.
“Why did you get so upset? She was only trying to help.” I was afraid to ask.
“I’m not sure. It was as if someone else was controlling me.” He looked confused, almost pained, but he shrugged it off. “It doesn’t matter. Come on, let’s finish up.”
He silently washed the rest of me, and I stood for him to pull another white dress over my body. This one was a little more flattering. Not sexy by any means, but at least it hugged in the right places instead
of falling over me with the appeal of a baggy sack.
He pulled my hair up tight into a soaking wet, messy bunch of tiny curls, and he wrapped a white scarf around and under it.
He was in the same badass biker get-up I had dreamed he would be wearing. The black collared shirt was unbuttoned just the same, and I had to force myself not to stare at the teasing perfection that barely showed in between the fabric. I could get lost looking at him. Time would stop if I didn’t keep my guard up.
“Let’s go.” He ushered me out of the chambers, and we strode out into the cemetery.
I was seriously unprepared for the amount of people in attendance. A sea of hundreds of people watched me emerge from the structure. A crowd mixed of all colors and classes. I had no idea there were so many Voodoo practitioners hidden in this city.
I recognized many of the people from the brief time I walked the streets of New Orleans, but every single one of them looked at me as if they knew exactly who I was. I wasn’t a stranger to any of them, and I didn’t feel as though any of them were strangers to me either. The feeling of belonging was incredible. I had never received this kind of acceptance, this kind of community. I had made the right choice by staying here, I knew that now. I could never find this anywhere else.
Pushing her way through the crowd, Aunt Vivian found her place by my side. Her head was held high with pride as she stepped in front of me, taking the lead to the altar. The members in the audience were not eager to let her push me behind her. Their loud protests echoed off the tombstones but she ignored them, which only angered them even more.
Samuel and Marcus intervened before the crowd did. Taking hold of her arms, they forced her to slow her pace so I could catch up. When we were again side by side, they let her walk alone.
From the corner of my eye, I could not miss the rage building up on her face and truth be told I could not blame her for being angry. We could not afford any time for her to throw a temper tantrum whether it was warranted or not, so I decided it was up to me to diffuse the situation.
Once we reached the altar I took Aunt Vivian’s hands and pulled her into a tight embrace.
“I won’t let them forget what you have done for them,” I whispered to her. And I wouldn’t.
The last few days revealed a lot about my aunt Vivian. Many members of her congregation came to visit me while she was out and about running errands, expressing their concerns regarding her leadership.
One man told me he had once held the power of a healer. Claiming he was too clumsy and incompetent, Vivian stripped the powers from him. I asked the members in the house about it, and Camille told me the man was actually a very adept wielder of his gift. According to her, Aunt Vivian was only intimidated by his abilities.
Another woman told me that she fell in love with a shapeshifter, but Aunt Vivian did not allow super naturals of different types to mingle. The woman chose to leave the Voodoo religion to be with him, but on their wedding day Vivian had him banished to make it clear such indiscretions wouldn’t be tolerated as long as she was Queen.
It seemed that my aunt’s reign was one of control and domination. She would step on those who were weaker, bringing down anyone who could possibly challenge her. I knew that this did not bode well for me.
I had spent that last week playing politics, and I managed to get these people to understand I was nothing like my aunt. That I would rule for the people, in their best interest, not in my own. I wouldn’t let them forget what she did for them.
She nodded gratefully into my shoulder. My assurances pacified her, or at least brought her boiling blood down to lukewarm. I released her and gave her a deceiving, innocent smile.
Marcus led a goat up to the altar and strapped the poor animal down. Aunt Vivian handed me an ancient rusted blade. The same bearded man that was used in the invocation of Legba during our secret ritual stepped forward.
“I thought Camille said Legba had already been summoned?”
Squinting her eyes at me, Aunt Vivian cocked her head to the side. “He was. We chose another member of the congregation for Papa Legba to possess. Tonight Mr. Mueller will have the honor of channeling Damballah. How is it you’re familiar with our history of using this man as a conduit at all?”
“Oh, well…” I searched my mind frantically for a good cover. “He was Legba’s host in my dream.”
“What dream?”
Shit! I hadn’t told her about the dream. “A dream I had last night. I just assumed it was a premonition.”
She pursed her lips. Her face told me she wasn’t buying it, but luckily she didn’t press it. She lit the candles that circled the altar. The man stood straight and perfectly still with a blank, concentrating expression.
Pointing to the goat that was screaming to be released, Vivian said, “It’s time. You must slice the goat from neck to navel.”
“Mr. Mueller, is it?” I spoke to the man I secretly already knew.
“Yes, ma’am.” He bowed his head in respect.
“Are you willing? I don’t want you to do this if you’re afraid.”
“Oh stop stalling!” Aunt Vivian shouted.
Standing over the innocent creature, my entire body began to shake. The screaming was wrenching my stomach and my heart was pounding. Tears stung my eyes and I commanded them back, but I could not keep them at bay. Raising the knife in both hands high over my head, I swung it down hard, releasing it just short of the animal’s flesh.
It fell to the ground and the clink it made when it hit the cement sounded in the air, piercing nothing other than the silence.
“I can’t do it,” I sobbed. “I won’t kill anything just for the chance to speak with this entity. If he wants to communicate with me, he will need to do it without bloodstain on my hands.”
I wanted to smack the smug look off of Aunt Vivian’s face. She knew I wouldn’t kill this goat, and she wanted to expose my weakness to everybody here. This was her way of proving to them I didn’t have the gumption to lead them. Somehow she equated my refusal to commit murder with ineffective leadership.
Thankfully, the followers did not. There was an explosion of applause and cheers approving my decision, and her face scrunched up in fury. Breathing in the victory, I picked up the blade again, using it to slice the tethers that bound the goat to the stone, and set him free.
Marcus reached into a satchel resting over his shoulder and pulled out a jar of honey, handing it to me.
“I knew you wouldn’t do it,” he teased. “This is supposed to work just as well.”
I made a nest on the altar from some leaves scattered on the ground and drizzled some honey into it. Readying to chant, all the people joined hands with their neighbors. Aunt Vivian stood with her arms folded, refusing to take my hand when I offered it to her.
“Take my hand,” I ordered, surprising myself with the authority in my voice.
“Kreyòl m’ape di ou bonswa. Bonswa Danballah Wèdo. M’ape mande kouman nou ye o! M’ape mande kouman nou ye o! Wi nou la, Wi nou la Damballah Wèdo Lavi nou nan men bondye.”
A mist appeared to creep at our feet, and the air became thick and heavy. Echoing in the distance was the rhythm of a lone war drum, and it closed in from every direction.
The man that offered himself for use by Damballah collapsed to the ground. Samuel and Marcus climbed on top of him, covering his face in a white shroud. With the force of twenty men, Mr. Mueller threw both of them off with one shove.
He did not stand, but instead undulated over to the altar, his spine contorting as it wound from side to side. As he slid up to accept his offering, the sheet that covered his face caught on a stick and fell to the ground, revealing the serpent-like tongue protruding from the man’s mouth.
His skin was now covered in green, moist scales. His entire face resembled that of a lizard, even his nose flattened with two tiny slits taking the place of his nostrils. Hissing at the crowd, he lurched at them to give warning not to touch his snack. The collective fear of the spectators
spawned chaos, but he ignored their cries for saving.
15
His jawbone unhinged, and his mouth opened wide. Stretching his lips back, he revealed a ferocious pair of fang dripping with venom and saliva. The leaves laid out with the offering crunched as he chomped down on them, and he closed his eyes with satisfaction at the sweet treat he was devouring.
My blood turned to ice when he snapped his lids open again. This time, his attention was on Aunt Vivian and me. I envied the other members who had the opportunity to flee. Vivian was holding me in front of her as a shield, her fingernails digging into my skin. There was no escaping her grip. Screaming in my mind for Samuel to rescue me, I caught a glimpse on him trying to dodge through the crowd to answer my plea. There was nothing he could do. The mass of scattering bodies was too thick.
If only I could get these people to settle down. The pandemonium they were creating would only make this creature’s reactions more unpredictable. He could strike a scurrying human out of nothing more than instinct, the way a real snake might react to a mouse.
Determined to not have spent the last week starving in vain, I had to take control of the situation, or risk having everything that was being handed to me taken away again—including Samuel.
“Everybody, stop!” I heard the words before I even realized I had shouted the order.
As if they were my puppets, they all stopped dead in their tracks. No more shouting, no more stamping feet. The only sound left was Aunt Vivian’s chattering teeth in my ear. My word truly did hold weight to this community.
“We summoned him,” I reminded them. “He did not answer our request just to eat us all. Don’t be afraid. He is your loa, not a stranger.”
I waited for the spirit to speak his peace, but he only stared, perplexed by my pretend fearlessness.
“Why isn’t he communicating?” I whispered over my shoulder to my guide.
“He’s a serpent, you idiot!” Vivian hissed. “He can’t speak to you the way that a man does! His wisdom surpasses all of us. He isn’t able to lower himself to suit us.”
