The school was only five lousy blocks away. It was just a simple turn off Broad Street to the quiet, mostly residential area. But somehow the harder she ran, the further the distance. From afar, she heard sirens and realized the earsplitting sounds were actually her screams.
When she finally got there, what she saw made her blood feel acidic.
The students, teachers, everyone it seemed, were standing in formation around the school as if lined up in a fire drill. Dour faces turned toward her, but no one moved or spoke or looked into her eyes. He had to be there…he had to be there…he had to… She screamed his name, “VICTOR!”
After tense seconds, a child, a little girl, said, “I knew the Orisha would come. I felt her coming.”
Evie’s stomach churned, and she vomited. Rascal sniffed the bile on the sidewalk and backed away. She backhanded her mouth. She felt held together by bubble gum and string. “Where is my son?”
No one else spoke. She staggered toward an adult, a mousy woman with downcast eyes. Evie was scared and angry and she couldn’t stop sobbing. She pulled the woman out of formation and shook her; she tried to force her to look up and see her grief.
Evie demanded in a raspy voice. “I want someone to talk to me! Where is Sister Anne?”
They were all so quiet that their collective attitude smacked of guilt. She scanned three hundred forlorn faces and each of their averted gazes twisted the knife in the shredded remnants of her heart.
Sister Anne finally emerged from the school. She seemed to assess the situation and descended the steps toward Evie. Her manner was as brisk as usual, but this time her pale face seemed pinched and bloodless.
Evie couldn’t swallow her rage. She wanted to twist the nun’s withered head off her neck. Before she sent Sister Anne to the Afterlife, she gripped the nun by her arms and shook her with more strength than Evie would’ve believed she possessed.
“Please,” Sister Anne begged, “I’ve called the police. Please stop. You’re scaring the children.”
Evie spat, “You haven’t seen scary yet! Where is my son?”
Sister Anne freed herself and only then did she look Evie in the eye. “We will talk. Just let me take care of this first. Okay?”
Evie nodded even as she began to become more undone. She couldn’t handle civility when her world was tumbling into hell. “Okay.”
Sister Anne turned and seemed to speak to no one in particular, “Everyone else accounted for?”
Another nun answered, “Yes, ma’am.”
Evie recognized the assistant principal, Sister Ruth. She was another mature nun, and despite her horn-rimmed eyeglasses, Evie could tell she’d been crying.
Even as the fear lodged in her throat and made talking difficult, Evie asked, “Where’s Victor, that’s all I want to know?”
Evie caught the exchange between the nuns.
Sister Anne turned to Sister Ruth and said, “Send everyone back to their homerooms, and finish calling their parents. We need them here in case the police start questioning their children.”
Evie realized that she didn’t have enough air in her lungs to form a decent scream. Her legs couldn’t support the gravity of her grief, and she went down sobbing on the sidewalk beside an oak tree. To her astonishment some of the students and teachers began crying too.
Sister Anne wrapped an arm around Evie and helped her to her feet. Evie reluctantly leaned on the nun. A young boy who was almost as tall as she, handed Evie a basketball as if the thing had a special meaning, then he climbed the steps and blended with the others as they made their way inside the school.
Evie stopped crying long enough to glare at Sister Anne.
Sister Anne said, “I tried to call you, but I guess you were on your way here.”
Evie jerked free. “Please tell me what happened.”
Sister Anne wrung her hands. “I was told that he’d slipped through the gate to get that ball and…” The words suddenly died in her throat. After a while, she added, “Here, let me give this to the police.”
Evie handed it over as words tumbled from her lips. “Through…this ball? Did you hear him scream?”
Sister Anne said, “Yes, I know that doesn’t make any sense but I heard his scream…I felt his scream when I was in my office. How do you know?”
Evie breathed in as deeply as she could with the blade still ripping up her heart. Perhaps it was caused by her pain or her fear of not knowing, but she started to experience an odd sensation that blossomed like an awakening. Although the pain burrowed deeper each time she inhaled, the new sense also expanded, and kept her buoyant by feeding her bits of energy. It also felt like the energy was some type of analgesic that numbed her turmoil so that she was able to focus.
She said, “This is strange.” A new piece of knowledge directed her attention at the house across the street from the school. It looked abandoned. She said, “I feel strange.”
Sister Anne asked, “You knew something bad was going to happen, didn’t you? You seemed different this morning.”
Evie whispered, “You will have to go now, Sister.”
Evie couldn’t wallow in the comfort of numbness. She had to fix this, but she needed His help. If she had to dance with the devil, or Obatala, to get Victor back, then so be it.
Sister Anne said, “Come inside with me. You can bring in the dog. The police should be here soon. While we wait, we can pray together for Victor’s safe return.”
Evie reined in her anger, because ultimately Victor had disappeared on her watch. She looked right through the older woman, and said, “I told you to leave. Do as I say!”
Catholicism couldn’t help her. She needed more than prayers. Her paradox was that she didn’t want to be an orisha, but that she had to become one to find Victor. Perhaps she had the ability, but not the knowledge?
She needed to get an audience with her Father. To do that, she needed to use the perversion of her natural gift to reach him. Just the thought of it added a layer of revulsion to her pitiful circumstances.
She crouched alongside a giant oak. It had a thick trunk and wide nude branches. Such a magnificent specimen broke Evie’s heart even further. She imagined how the oak leaves gave shade to some of the classrooms on notoriously humid southern days. The roots corrupted the buckled sidewalk into mini-pyramids. Once there had been flowers in the tree well, but the cold weather had only left nubby remains
She buried her knees in the tree well. The dirt was still soft, but she felt the thick ropy roots just under the surface. She raised a hand, but hesitated before she forced herself to caress the bark. The texture of the wood was harsh and unyielding.
She remembered how her mom used to distress whenever she needed extra juice to talk to her father. Evie had thought it was because the process was painful. Perhaps, but now she believed the pain was emotional.
Her moan was full of pity. She knew instinctively the tree was healthy and free of parasites, except for her…except for…she dug her fingernails in between the crevices in the bark while sighing regretfully as she did so. A few of her fingernails broke off as she pushed down hard enough so that each of her fingertips touched wood.
She said, “I’m sorry.”
Sister Anne asked, “What are you doing?”
Evie said, without raising her voice, “Shut up, you will ruin my concentration! I thought I told you to leave.”
Suddenly she grunted when a burst of energy exploded within her chest. The power throbbed like a second heartbeat. Her palms grew warm and melded into the wood. Startled, Evie yanked her hands free, flipped them over and dropped her jaw in surprise.
Her skin had mutated. Her palm was covered with thousands of tiny pimples. She grazed her index finger across her palm. Not pimples, more like little needles. A delicate graze sent prickly heat shooting down her arm and flooded her body with a deliciousness that was akin to an orgasm.
The purity of the sensations terrified her, yet at the same time, she was absolutely compelled to attach
– was that what was happening – her hand to the tree trunk. She obeyed the overwhelming desire. When she did so, there was a bit of suction as her fingers, from tips to wrist, were sucked onto the bark. Her palm grew sweaty. She began to swallow down liquid that rose up her throat and realized that she was ingesting the sap that passed through her palm, and up her arm.
She closed her eyes against a myriad of sensations; the steady yet engulfing pulse of tree’s existence as it charged her while simultaneously she drained; the blissful needlelike protrusions fed back tree sap, and the sweet glorious power that furiously rode through her with such ardor that she had to clasp her thighs together to keep from coming.
She was parasitic, but she couldn’t help it. How could she stop when the power sweeping through her caused her to clench her teeth against a most delicious orgasm? Eventually, the ferocity ebbed and Evie felt that she had enough control to open her eyes. She chuckled at the absurd, the world was glossed over in fiery gold.
Sister Anne gasped and crossed herself. Evie was tempted to laugh at the nun who fled and ran inside the school.
Despite the power she felt mingling with the blood in her veins, Evie couldn’t ignore the brutality of her loss. She needed Victor back, alive. Still on her knees, she lifted her head up to Obatala. Rascal crept up to her and dropped his head on her lap. She stoked his head once and with one hand practically imbedded in the tree, she raised up the other in a plea.
“Father, may I come home?”
Chapter 5 – Obatala’s Mercy
“Please Father. Accept me.”
Obatala’s response was instantaneous. Was she imagining it or did her soul separate from her body and crash through the atmosphere like sonar?
She seemed to lose consciousness only to awaken in absolute darkness. Or was she dreaming? Or dead?
Although she was afraid to move, she was grateful that somehow Rascal, who whimpered his apprehension, was still by her side. She groped for and then held onto his collar. She did notice that while she still knelt, her knees weren’t in the tree well, but on a solid floor. She brushed her fingertips in the surface, and determined that it was possibly marble.
The Orisha legend, the one that wasn’t shared with the followers, told of the cursed orishas who had transitioned from mortality – why couldn’t they just admit the orishas were sacrificed -- they assumed grand rooms in Obatala’s home in the heavens.
Did that mean her mom was here? Her grandma? Evie quivered in hopeful anticipation. She almost called out, but she held back because she needed Obatala’s help more than forgiveness from her mom.
Would her mom excuse or console her? Or would her mother tell her again that she was selfish? That avoiding her path would cost Victor his life?
She couldn’t help it. “Mommy?”
Evie’s timid voice echoed in the darkness. She placed her cheek atop of Rascal’s head. How was it that she could be powerful and powerless at the same time?
Eventually, she said, “Father, please help me.”
The prayer had barely left her lips when a distant light appeared. It brightened when a man materialized within the cone of light. Even from her distance, slightly more than half a mile away, he appeared gargantuan. Evie surmised that she could possibly fill the palm of his hand…and while she was awed, she was also terrified.
Despite his imposing size, his appearance was glorious. She clasped her fluttering hands together as if in prayer, but she couldn’t bow her head. She didn’t want to stop taking in his magnificence.
His advance was quiet, yet the absence of sound made her situation more terrifying. She was amazed that as he moved closer to her, he shrank in stature. The light had followed him as he moved. He wore the same type of aura she’d seen cocooning Victor during his conversations with Olorun.
Rascal whined again.
She shushed the dog and bowed her head as the giant, now just over six feet tall, bore the bravado of an accomplished ruler…or god.
Evie tried not to hold onto the memory of Obatala wearing her like a meat-suit and forcing her to murder her mom. But her hatred started to seep like a nasty wound. She tasted her disdain for them all for making her go through with that hellish ritual. She’d cursed Obatala, her dad and all those greedy followers. That was the last time she answered to the name, Evelyn.
She never wanted to be Evelyn again.
Yet, she was here and ready to grovel.
Obatala looked down at her, his eyes flickering like wildfire under thick eyebrows. In the dim light she could see his scowl. Evie narrowed her eyes as she absorbed his hellish gaze.
He was inexplicably handsome. Perhaps he was just unnaturally perfect. His flawless black skin shone like marble and tightly contained his muscular physique. He wore his coarse hair closely cropped. He had wide nostrils and full lips. He carried a magnificent staff that was slightly taller than he with a handle that resembled the head of an eagle with ruby eyes. The beak opened and the eyes rolled over and stared at her too.
Obatala wore a simple white loincloth. Embarrassed, and yet intimidated, Evie rose without permission when she realized that she was eye level with the pronounced outline of his enormous penis.
Face-to-face, they regarded each other like adversaries. Only the pain in her heart kept Evie from lashing out.
Obatala’s voice filled her mind in a splendid baritone, “Daughter, you are here? Did you allow Victor to be taken from Olorun’s grace after I sent you a warning?”
His accusation twisted the phantom knife in her heart. She forced herself to remain humble. “I thought I heard you, but I didn’t understand.” Almost instantly and without an ounce of shame, she said, “I need your help, Father.”
“Yes?”
Before she could elaborate, she felt him. He was in her head. It was as if he was absorbing her thoughts. No, not just her thoughts, he was reading her essence. How did she know that? Evie was terrified.
Obatala spoke again without uttering words. “You belong with us. You have always been orisha. You cannot deny your heritage. Your power is…” He inhaled deeply as if taking in a glorious scent, and then he finished in a tone filled with pride, “… immense. Your mothers found a way to increase their powers by mating with others who had different endowments. I see that you have done this as well. Do you see the power granted you?”
Mating? Had he used the word mating?
Evie couldn’t contain her rage. “Wisdom! One person did one very bad thing and you cursed us? How is that wise or even fair? Then you force us to kill our children or if we don’t…” She stood inches from his face, spittle sprayed from her mouth, as she screamed, “…if the daughters don’t kill the mothers, then the mothers will kill the daughters! Oooh, yeah, that’s so fucking wise!
“What am I doing here? I wasn’t even supposed to be able to get pregnant – yeah, I did a snip-snip. So, uh huh…you want to know why I tuned you out? Because this is all fucking crazy ass bullshit!”
Evie gasped. The words had tumbled out. She mewed in frustration. She wanted to beat him, to throw him on the ground and kick him in the nuts. Tears rolled down her cheeks as she trembled from righteous anger and sorrow. “Please Father. I’m sorry.”
His fiery eyes danced, but his face was expressionless. Finally, his voice hissed in her mind, “If your arrogance costs Victor his life, I will take your soul to hell and make sure that you suffer with the nameless traitor who cursed your bloodline.”
Evie challenged him. “Olorun wouldn’t have sent you, Father, if you weren’t supposed to help me!” Her voice cracked in desperation, as she begged, “Can’t you just tell me where he is?”
At last Obatala’s features softened. He even smiled. He was breathtaking when he smiled. “Your will is strong, Dolapo. I must admit that I find this reincarnation of you very challenging. Yes, you are most vexing, but you make me proud and you give me amusement.”
Amusement? Dolapo? Evie guarded her thoughts. She said, “I can’t be…”
&nbs
p; Obatala interrupted, “There are two truths. I know the loss of your mother made you turn away from us. You don’t see the curse is also the foundation of your power. If Victor lives, his power will be so great that he could easily end the curse. Do you understand?”
Evie gritted her teeth. She was understanding too much when she only wanted to know when he would start helping.
Obatala chuckled, “You know I can hear your thoughts, Daughter, and yet you continue to provoke me…ah yes, amusement. Second, Olorun has waited a long time for Victor. I knew you were the only one strong enough to carry the vessel. Victor has important work to do at the birthplace of humanity. The warring and pestilence has to end. He will start the end there. Do you understand?”
Evie guarded her thoughts as she nodded.
He struck the staff on the floor which started to quake and while Rascal whined, Evie remained rigid and quietly defiant.
“Good. I am prepared to forgive you. It is right that I selected you to be his mother.” He stroked her cheek. There was tenderness in his touch. “Your love for Victor will allow others to follow you as you journey back to us. You will be an instrument of justice and love for me, Daughter. Thus, I will assist you, but you must listen to my warning. Do not call on me again or evoke the spirits of your mothers until your work is done. Remember that this is not your journey alone, Dolapo.”
Evie had questions, but she didn’t want to voice or think about them. She placed her hands over her heart and bowed respectfully. “Thank you, Father.”
Obatala asked, “How can I help you?”
She said, “Can you tell me where I can find him? Please, Father?”
Abruptly he turned to go, she touched his arm, and said, “I’m sorry. This is my journey…but not mine alone? I don’t know what that means, but is Victor still alive and in this city?”
Obatala gave a slight nod.
“Since this is also my penance, I will follow your instructions. I don’t want anyone getting him out of the city.”
“Good,” he said as if she had made a wise move on a chessboard. “You must use your power. There will be no other way for you to find him. You must move between time when you can. Remember this…as long as you live Victor will live. If you die, then he dies. Although you are my most favored daughter, I will eat your soul.”
Stolen Prophet: A Horror Supernatural Thriller (The Prophet's Mother Book 1) Page 4
