Rise of the Jumbies

by Tracey Baptiste

  Bouki shrugged. “He can try.” He pulled the bucket out of the well and each of them took sips of water from their palms.

  “Girls!” It was Mrs. Chow, running toward them. Her voice trembled and her face was pale. “Girls! Have you seen Marlene?” She brushed straight past the boys, knocking water out of the metal bucket.

  Corinne shook her head.

  “No,” Dru said.

  “I sent her for water. It’s so hot today. You didn’t see her?” Mrs. Chow gripped the stone lip of the well and peered in. “I can’t see anything. It’s so dark down there.”

  “Marlene wouldn’t have fallen in,” Corinne said. “She knows how to use the bucket.”

  Mrs. Chow looked about frantically. Her flowered skirt and white apron were clutched in one hand from her run. “Do you think she wandered off?” She looked toward the mahogany forest and seemed comforted by the line of orange trees that separated the ancient woods from the road.

  “We’ll help you look,” Dru said.

  Mrs. Chow nodded and continued down the road, jogging a few steps, then stopping to search behind every bush. As soon as she was out of sight, Malik pulled a shoe from inside a patch of grass near the well. It was Marlene’s.

  Bouki shook his head, then he looked into the well. “If someone fell in, it would be hard to tell from up here,” he said.

  “I can go down to check,” Corinne said.

  Dru shook her head. “Maybe we should wait for someone else.”

  Malik unknotted the bucket from the rope.

  “If there’s anyone who can climb on slippery rock, it’s her,” Bouki said.

  Malik tied the rope around Corinne’s waist. It was cold and wet, and its touch raised goose bumps all over her body. She tugged at it to make sure it was secure, then she kicked off her sandals and slipped her legs over the low wall. As she climbed down, her bare toes gripped the damp cracks between the stone. Above her, all three friends lowered the rope slowly. It was a long way down.

  Only a little sunlight glinted on the dark water beneath her, and she felt a chill from its cool depths. The sound of lapping water usually soothed her, but this time, it quickened her pulse.

  Once she reached the water, Corinne paddled to stay afloat. It was ice cold, and she could barely see. She felt her way all around the sides of the well with her heart pounding against her chest. “Marlene?” she called out. She waited as the name echoed against the stones, hoping and not hoping for an answer. The echo faded and left only the sound of water on stone in whispers that sounded like lost, lost, lost. Corinne dipped below. Words rushed at her like a current, so fast she couldn’t make them out at first. Then she heard a soothing melody, and as her heart slowed, the words came.

  Come to the water,

  Come join me, my child.

  We’ll sing and splash

  And pull in the tide.

  A whole world beneath,

  A world of beauty.

  Sleep in the water

  And dream, ma petite.

  The song became louder and clearer and more beautiful the longer Corinne listened. And the water felt warmer, too, like bathwater left out in the sun. Corinne dove deeper into the darkness after the lulling song. But the rope pulled against her waist, making her movements useless. The song began to fade. She reached in front of her and felt something warm and solid between her fingers. But she was jerked away. She opened her mouth to scream, “No!” and gulped water as she was yanked back to the surface, where she coughed and sputtered, and the song disappeared.

  “Corinne!” Dru called.

  Corinne remembered where she was and what she had come to do. She put her hands on the rock to climb, but she was pulled up fast by the rope. As she neared the top, Hugo pulled her out and placed her on the ground. She was surrounded by people from the market, including Mrs. Chow and Mrs. Ramdeen.

  “She’s alive, brother,” Bouki said. “What were you doing, Corinne?” He rocked back on his heels while Malik untied the rope around her waist.

  “Did you see her? Did you see Marlene?” Mrs. Chow asked. She clutched Marlene’s sandal to her chest.

  “No,” Corinne said. She saw Dru frown.

  “She was here. See?” Mrs. Chow held the woven leather sandal out to Corinne.

  “Another one gone near the water,” Miss Evelyn said. “It’s a water jumbie for sure.”

  “You don’t know that,” Hugo said.

  “Better ask the witch then,” said Miss Evelyn. “She would know if it’s a jumbie or not.” She strode off with the crowd following.

  Hugo shook his head and returned to the bakery.

  “Something happened to you in there,” Dru said to Corinne after everyone had moved away.

  “I thought I heard something. Like singing. It was . . .” But the song was like her dream, quickly fading in the light of day. “I don’t know,” she said.

  “Maybe they’re right.” Dru looked at the retreating crowd. “Maybe the witch will know.” She pulled Corinne to her feet. “What I don’t understand is why they can go to her so easily, but no one will come to you.”

  “They trust her,” Corinne said. “She’s given them medicine and helped them with all their problems.”

  “Real ones and fake ones,” Bouki added. “But I don’t think it’s trust. They’re afraid of her. If the white witch can heal you, she can make you sick. If she can give you things, she can take them away. She’s running a con like every other person selling on this island.”

  “That’s not fair,” Dru said.

  “All right. Take it easy. Maybe everybody isn’t running a con,” Bouki said, “but the witch is. She has everybody coming for all the things they want, and she keeps them paying for all the things they don’t. It’s fear that keeps her in business. That’s why she is always alone.” He paused and looked at each of them. “Maybe she doesn’t know what happened to the missing children,” Bouki said. “But maybe she will know what to look for.”

  7

  The Other Jumbie

  The four children had to push through the small crowd to get to where the witch sat against the trunk of the tree, one shriveled arm dangling at her side.

  “I don’t give group discounts,” she said in her creaky voice. The short white braids on her brown scalp shook as she rearranged her potions on the blanket.

  “We have only one question,” Corinne said. She glanced behind at Mrs. Chow, who was staring hopefully at the witch.

  “You can answer one question, can’t you, old woman?” Miss Evelyn said.

  The witch looked up. Her cloudy, reddish eyes flicked between the four children standing in front of her. “You all again?” The witch sighed and rubbed her damaged arm as if their presence made it hurt all the more. Then she stretched the frail-looking fingers at the end of it one by one.

  “You’re getting better,” Corinne said with both surprise and relief. But her relief faded quickly. The witch had been injured when Severine had cursed her. If the witch could heal, maybe Severine could have survived as well. The image from Corinne’s dream of the rock moving under the water resurfaced, and she stopped cold.

  The witch’s tongue flicked out and passed over her parched lips, revealing a scant few yellow teeth. “That is not a question.”

  “There are more children missing,” Mrs. Ramdeen said. “Three of them, all of them lost by water. The sea, the river, and now the well.” Her voice carried over the sounds of the market. People dropped the produce they were buying to watch and listen. Mrs. Chow tried unsuccessfully to hold back a sob.

  “Children fall into danger all the time,” the witch said. “Especially by the water.”

  “But three in less than a day?” Mrs. Ramdeen asked.

  “Coincidence,” the witch said, shrugging. She looked pointedly at Corinne and pursed her lips as if she was wait
ing for something.

  Corinne swallowed. “Could it be a jumbie?”

  The witch’s hand shook slightly, and a few of the seeds she was transferring from a pouch to a bottle spilled on the blanket. She paused to steady herself, then continued working.

  “They have taken children before,” Mrs. Chow said softly. She heaved as if she might burst into tears again. Mrs. Ramdeen stepped away as if Mrs. Chow’s despair was contagious.

  “Do you have proof?” the witch asked. When no one answered, she continued. “My advice is to watch the children more carefully.”

  “But what if it is a jumbie?” Corinne asked. “What can we do?”

  “Only one jumbie will know about things happening in the water, and that is a jumbie you don’t want to tangle with.”

  Miss Evelyn sucked her teeth, chups. “Just tell them what they need.”

  “You mean Severine?” Corinne asked. “Could she come back?”

  The witch’s jaw tightened, but she used her good hand to wave Corinne’s words away. “No. The jumbie you would have to ask is Mama D’Leau.”

  “Mama juh-who?” Bouki asked.

  “Haven’t you grown any brains yet, boy?” the witch spat. “Mama D’Leau. She is the queen of the water.” The white witch began to put her things into her basket. Her good hand trembled on the handle. “But taking children is not her way.”

  “What is her way?” Corinne asked.

  “She likes collecting husbands,” the witch said, eyeing Bouki. “You are nearly big enough for her to take interest in,” she added with a smile playing at the edges of her wrinkled mouth and her nostrils flaring. “But as you have no brains at all, maybe she will spare you.”

  She finished placing all the bottles and pieces of paper in her basket and struggled to her feet. Corinne moved to help her. At first the witch looked like she might pull away, but she grudgingly accepted Corinne’s hand. The witch hooked her basket on the arm that held her cane and tucked the blanket over the top. “I’m fine now,” she snapped.

  Corinne stepped away. She noticed that the witch’s coin pouch wasn’t as full as usual, either. Maybe Corinne wasn’t the only person who had lost customers because of Severine.

  “If you want to know for sure, you will have to talk to Mama D’Leau directly,” the witch continued. “But finding her isn’t easy. Water jumbies are slippery. Cunning. And they don’t do favors unless you strike a bargain first.”

  “I’ll do it,” Mrs. Chow said. “I’ll do anything.”

  “You may not be able to,” the witch said. “Mama D’Leau is very particular about who she will talk to.” She looked straight at Corinne.

  Corinne felt suddenly uncomfortable in her own skin, like it was a heavy, itchy suit. Beads of sweat rolled down her back.

  Mrs. Chow stepped forward. “Corinne is a child. Can’t you do it?”

  The witch grunted. “You want me to fix what all of you caused?”

  “Us!” Mrs. Ramdeen said. “What did we do to get our children taken?”

  The witch narrowed her eyes. “You can’t squeeze and squeeze at a thing and not expect it to pop.”

  The people in the crowd whispered their disagreement, but no one was brave enough to speak up. In the midst of the grumbling, Corinne heard someone snarl, “These jumbies,” and she could feel the pressure of the crowd’s eyes on her back. Maybe if she did something to help. Maybe this time, if they saw her do it, they would believe she was one of them. Maybe they would stop hating her.

  Corinne stepped forward. “I will talk to Mama D’Leau.”

  “You can’t,” Dru said immediately.

  Everyone else was still. Even the breeze died. It felt as if the entire island was holding its breath. Only the witch moved. She looked at each person in the crowd before shaking her head with disgust. “Mmm hmm, I thought you might,” she said to Corinne. “There are some things you will have to remember. First you will have to coax her out with gifts.”

  Mrs. Ramdeen sucked her teeth. “She steals our children and we have to bribe her to get them back?”

  “Sometimes you have to give to get,” the witch said. “But I never said she took the children. You want someone to ask, and she is the one to go to under the circumstances.” The witch turned back to Corinne. “You will only get one question. And for that, you will have to do her one favor. You must be very careful how you phrase it, or she might take offense.” The witch clucked her tongue. “She will probably take offense anyway. But you still have to follow her rules.”

  “What kind of favor will she want?” Corinne asked.

  “How can I know that?” the witch snapped.

  Corinne felt the witch’s stale breath against her face. She tried not to make a face or move away in case the white witch thought she was being disrespectful.

  “But how do we find her?” Dru asked.

  “That’s where the rest of you come in.” The witch plucked a piece of brown paper out of her basket. It was torn at the edges and wrinkled as if it had been used many times before. With a pencil, she wrote a few things down. It took a while to finish in her shaky hand, but it was a short list. She handed it to Dru, who passed it back to the crowd. “Mind the time,” the witch said. “You can only call Mama D’Leau when the sun touches the sea.”

  “Thank you,” Corinne said.

  But the witch waved Corinne off as she walked away. She took a few steps and turned back. “Good luck.” Then she looked at Bouki with a half-smile. “You especially.”

  8

  Mama D’Leau

  Mama D’Leau sucked the marrow out of a long, thin bone as she lay on the seafloor. She could feel the currents of water circling the island like they were her own fingers, but now some currents were moving under a new force—that twiggy thing she had seen rising out of the rocks. It was not right. The creature knew it didn’t belong. But it was one like her. An ancient. And hadn’t they all agreed once? It was such a long time since then, eh? She could barely summon up the memory of it. But there were words spoken, boundaries settled. It was no small thing to violate that understanding. And here was this other jumbie, tugging at her currents, testing her patience.

  Mama D’Leau tossed the bone and picked herself off the bottom of the sea and swam toward the waves. They were golden in the sunlight. Her eyes would change to match. It was a matter of camouflage, a little trick that kept her hidden in the water so she only looked like a harmless shape, like nothing at all, until it was too late.

  A school of flying fish darted up and out of the water, gleaming silver and pink. They glided in the air, leaving a trail of droplets behind them before diving back into the sea. Mama D’Leau swam near the surface to meet them. She grabbed one by the tail. It was pretty. She smiled before biting down, leaving a gaping hole in its fat belly. She crunched the scales and fins and bones and slurped the guts, and thought about what she was going to do about this other jumbie. The one who was toeing the line between the water world and the land. Mama D’Leau could feel the jumbie’s fear shivering through her as she moved about; there was a reason the other jumbie did not want to be on land. The people probably hated her. Mama D’Leau laughed. This was why it was better under the water. No people to disturb her. Only the ones she chose.

  She drifted away from the island and beyond the coral reef. Bits of flying fish stuck to one corner of her mouth. She licked them off slowly, relishing every morsel. The seafloor dipped low, making it hard for the sunlight to reach, and she stopped at her ring of stone people, the ones who had dared to defy her, the ones who had challenged her, and ones who . . . well, hadn’t done anything really, but she had been in a bad mood when they crossed her path.

  Mama D’Leau swam around them, caressing their surprised stone faces and looking into their fear-filled eyes. Coral was starting to grow over them, making it look like they had extra limbs, fingers, tails, even wi
ngs. The memory of how each of them turned from warm, supple flesh to hard, cold stone sent lovely chills up her spine. She giggled. The sound of it traveled to the shores of the island, to shores farther away, all the way to the other side of the world, passing over creatures that stopped cold as the disturbing ripple of her laughter cut to their very core. Every creature in the sea darted and dove to escape her glee, but there was nowhere to go in the water, nowhere to hide from Mama D’Leau.

  When her laughter came rippling back, Mama D’Leau felt it tickle against her skin, and a wonderful thought bubbled up. There was, perhaps, some advantage to letting the offensive little jumbie use her waters. It wasn’t Mama D’Leau who had violated the ancient treaty. She was a victim. Innocent, even. The foolish little thing was filled with fear and desperation. So it was only a matter of time before it slipped up. Fear always led to stupid decisions. She would find some way to turn the jumbie’s fear to her own advantage. It was a simple thing, really. Mama D’Leau settled against a particularly handsome stone man with red coral growing over his nose and mouth and tried to imagine what her opportunity would look like. She wriggled with glee.

  9

  On Second Thought

  It was a long way back to the swamp. The sun beat down on the bare patches of the witch’s head as she shuffled through the damp grass and took a roundabout path that led to a sand spit. She crossed it gingerly and entered her crooked shack. As soon as the door closed behind her, she sighed.

  “Yes, I know,” she said to the empty shack.

  She had planned to leave the child and the rest of them to whatever fate Mama D’Leau decided for them. She was so tired. It had been a long time since she wasn’t needed by someone, for something. She only wanted to be now. But it was too late. The jumbie would know that she had told them how to call her out of the water. The witch had interfered. Again. And she wasn’t supposed to, so she would have to pay. Making Mama D’Leau come to her there on the swamp would only incur the jumbie’s wrath. So the white witch might as well meet her on the beach. And while she was there, she would help the child.