Rise of the Jumbies

by Tracey Baptiste

  “In for a penny, in for a pound,” she said to no one again.

  The witch put her basket on the lone wood table, not even bothering to empty the contents. She walked back outside where the sun shone on her face, and hesitated.

  “You must have cooked my brains,” the witch told the sun. Then she began the long trek to Corinne’s beach.

  10

  Under Water

  No, Corinne,” Pierre said. He shook his head so hard his locs beat against his broad shoulders. He gathered Corinne’s small hands into his larger ones. “No.”

  “Papa, I can help Laurent and Marlene and the other girl who went missing.”

  “Let someone else go. You’ve done enough.” The top of the Dutch door was open and he glanced over at the people gathering on the beach.

  “She will listen to me, Papa,” Corinne said. “Because she and I . . . we’re the same.”

  That shadowy worry came over Pierre again. He kept his hands firmly over hers.

  “There isn’t much time,” Corinne said. “Everyone is waiting.” She took a deep breath. “And the witch said that it has to be done at sunset.”

  Pierre sighed. “All right, but I’m coming with you.”

  This time, Corinne squeezed her father’s hand. “It’s not safe,” she said. “Mama D’Leau likes to collect husbands.”

  Pierre set his jaw.

  Corinne knew it was useless to argue.

  • • •

  People picked their way through the debris that the tidal waves had left on shore. Black-winged corbeau flapped away cawing, interrupted from finishing off the dead fish lodged in the sand. Their wings cast shadows until they landed, lurking, waiting for their moment to finish their meals. Everyone looked to the huge orange sun as it sank lower in the sky. Women stepped into the water with gifts in hand, ones the white witch had told them would draw Mama D’Leau out of the sea. Mirrors reflected the glow of the sun, silver combs glinted in the light, and bright hibiscus and anthurium garlands mingled with the scent of dead fish.

  Marlene’s and Laurent’s mothers clutched pieces of jewelry. A woman Corinne didn’t know stood with them.

  “Gabrielle’s mother,” Bouki explained when Corinne got close. “She’s the one who went missing by the river.”

  Despite the witch’s warning, several men were on the beach, too.

  Corinne made her way to the shoreline. Pierre hung back when she asked him to, but he was still much closer to the water than she would have liked. Bouki, Malik, and Hugo stood to one side of Pierre, with Dru and her mother, Mrs. Rootsingh, on the other. Victor, one of the fishermen, held on to a large curved hook that gleamed in the waning light. He ground his teeth together, waiting.

  Whispers came on the wind as the white witch walked through the crowd. Her wrinkled feet moved slowly over the sticky sand until the water touched her toes. She shuddered. The witch stood for a few moments with her face tilted toward the sun and her eyes closed, as if she was soaking it up. She said, “Mama D’Leau is a schemer. And she doesn’t take kindly to threats or accusations, whether they are true or not.”

  Corinne looked at the mothers huddled together, their faces creased with worry. “They want me to tell her to bring the children back.”

  The witch shook her head. “That will be a disaster. You can’t tell her what to do. She does what she wants.”

  “But what if they talk before me? I can’t do anything about that.”

  The witch’s eyes flashed open. The clouds of gray that rimmed her deep brown irises, whittling her sight down to a mere pinpoint, suddenly cleared. “You will have to make sure she only listens to you.”

  Corinne felt colder than she had ever felt, as if the water was washing away all the warmth and strength she had. “Why won’t you do it?” she asked in a whisper.

  “She won’t be interested in me,” said the white witch. The stormy gray clouds had returned to her eyes. “She needs somebody more able-bodied to do her a favor. Someone with the use of both arms.”

  The sun dipped to the water and the crowd pressed forward into the waves. They laid their gifts on wide banana leaves, pushing them out toward the horizon.

  “Don’t make up your face so,” the witch said. “Remember: Everything on this island, everything in this world has a place. A purpose. Even the ones you might not like. Even Mama D’Leau.”

  “Even—” Corinne began, but a roar sounded far in the distance, growing louder and louder as a wall of water rose up and hurtled toward them on land.

  Some in the crowd gasped and ran back. Even Victor dropped his hook in the nearest boat.

  The white witch grabbed Corinne’s hand and whispered fiercely, “Go now, before it is too late.”

  Somehow, Corinne made her body move through the cold fear that gripped her muscles. She ran toward the wall of water that was now high enough to blot out the sun. The wave pulsed, like a living, breathing thing. Shifting plumes of light and dark water, fringed with foam, arranged and rearranged themselves so that Corinne thought she was looking into an angry face—the face of the ocean. The wave continued rolling toward her, roaring as it came. She skidded to a stop. The sand swallowed her feet, binding her to the spot.

  “Move!” the witch screamed, adding to the deafening growl of the wave.

  Corinne pulled her feet out of the sand and ran toward the wall of water—her heart thumping, her chest burning—as if she could turn her shoulder and cut through it like any other wave. Me! she thought, and the tip of the wave began to curl down, massive and frightening.

  The wave crashed down just ahead of Corinne, sending spray in all directions, over her and onto the beach. She heard gasps and then screaming, but she didn’t have time to see what happened to anyone else. The water surrounded her and dragged her below. It roared in her ears and mingled with the fading sounds of shouting. Her body tossed and tumbled. It scraped along through sand and seaweed, broken shells and worn stones. Once, she felt the smack of another body against her own. She was not alone.

  Corinne felt her head go fuzzy. Then the water stilled. She was floating in a clear sea. Her body moved independent of her thoughts, controlled by an unknown force. It was a dream. Wherever she was, she wasn’t really there. Her body drifted to a pile of sharp rocks and shards of broken yellow wood just beginning to rot. This was the water at the cliff where she had lost her papa’s first boat. In front of her the pile of barnacle-crusted rocks trembled and shook loose. Severine swam out from under them and looked back at Corinne. But as Corinne watched, Severine’s face changed from the beautiful woman Corinne had first seen at the market to the miserable, twiggy creature she had later faced on the cliff.

  The dream disappeared as quickly as it had appeared. Corinne was still being dragged through the water, but now she felt worse than she had before. Her fear doubled. Severine really was back. Her papa had dismissed her worry, and the white witch had avoided her question, but Corinne was sure of it now.

  The water’s pull weakened, and Corinne sank deeper until her feet touched the soft bottom. The sand settled slowly around her and bubbles drifted up and away. Corinne saw Dru, Bouki, and Malik nearby. She tried to move toward them, but seaweed was twisted around her legs, anchoring her to the bottom. Her friends were all trapped too, in tendrils of green weeds. No amount of struggling seemed to help.

  Corinne wanted to yell at them for being there, but she couldn’t speak.

  We didn’t come here by choice! Bouki snapped.

  Corinne looked at him, and then at all the others. Bouki’s lips hadn’t moved. How could she have heard him?

  Did you hear that? Dru asked. Her mouth hadn’t moved either.

  Yes, Corinne said.

  We’re not breathing, Dru said.

  Yes, we are, said a small, squeaky voice. Malik pointed at his nose. He took a deep breath and blew bubbles out of i
t.

  Did you say that, Malik? Dru asked, her eyes wide.

  Of course he did, Bouki said.

  But . . . Dru began, then tapered off.

  How is this happening? Corinne asked.

  Who cares? Bouki asked. We’re stuck! He tried to use his fingers to untangle the seaweed but it only pulled tighter.

  There wasn’t much around them but sand, a few waving plants, and schools of fish that meandered between them as if they were curious. A gray and yellow angelfish came close to Corinne’s hair, nosing through it as though it might be food. She waved it away. Other species of different sizes and shapes whizzed around them. A fierce-looking barracuda circled and darted away. Three unusually small red snappers, no larger than Malik’s hands, glided by. Malik reached his hand up and tickled the white underbelly of a kingfish large enough to feed all of them. The kingfish swam off but returned a couple of times so that Malik could touch it.

  It likes you, Malik, Corinne said.

  Malik smiled. It’s nice.

  Corinne giggled at his sweet little voice. It wasn’t too often that Malik had something to say, but here, under the water, whatever he thought came through clear as a bell.

  The kingfish suddenly hurried off, and Malik pointed toward a shape in the distance. It moved toward them, as huge as a shark, and just as fast. Look!

  The large creature circled a few times, kicking up sand and making it hard to see anything except its size.

  We’re bait! Bouki whimpered.

  11

  The Favor

  When the creature finally stopped moving, its rippling wake made the children sway like reeds. As the sand resettled, Corinne made out the body of a woman with shining copper skin. Her eyes were the same bright blue as the water around them, and as the water grew darker, they did too. Her hair was long and braided in thick plaits. Some wrapped around the top of her head like a crown, but masses more fell down past her waist. Scales were scattered against her skin at her collarbone and thickened down to her hips, where her tail began. It was long and twice as thick as an anaconda’s, narrowing to a thin, twitching end that was coiled beneath her like a throne. Sitting high atop the coils, the jumbie towered over all of them. She reached a hand up into the waves and plucked one of the gifts the women had offered her. It was a silver comb, which she admired for a moment before pressing it into her hair.

  Is you call me, yes? she asked Corinne. The jumbie also spoke without opening her mouth. She reached forward and brushed her fingers against Corinne’s skin, and tugged at Corinne’s plaits and her clothes. What are you? she asked. Not one of them, she added, turning toward the other children. She stopped nose to nose with Corinne, hair waving in the water around her. Seaweed, coral, tiny crabs, and even little seahorses wound through Mama D’Leau’s hair, catching the light like jewels.

  I’m Corinne.

  Mama D’Leau shook her head. More than that, I think. Not like them there. Not like them on land. Not like me either. So what then?

  I don’t know, Corinne said. The word jumbie filtered up through her mind, and as it washed over their little group, a look of satisfaction settled in Mama D’Leau’s face.

  Yes, maybe is that, Mama D’Leau said. She narrowed her eyes. Another one. She pulled away from Corinne and resettled on top of her tail. Talk quick, she said. I don’t have whole evening. She turned to Bouki and added, Unless is really bait you want to be. That’s fine, eh? She chuckled to herself, revealing a slash of sharp white teeth. Then she turned a serious look on Corinne again. Talk girl, before I eat yuh.

  I knew it! Bouki said.

  The end of Mama D’Leau’s tail uncoiled and reached toward him as he whimpered. I wasn’t talking to you, the jumbie said. The ripples of Bouki’s quaking body went out in every direction.

  Sorry, uh, ma’am, Bouki said.

  Hush! Mama D’Leau snapped. She refolded the end of her tail. The entire bulk of it moved beneath her like a slowly turning screw.

  Corinne was supposed to talk about the missing children, but the image of Severine swimming up out of the rocks wouldn’t leave her mind. She wondered if it was Severine who had taken them, and if Mama D’Leau would know. But she could ask only one question.

  There are children missing, Corinne began. She waited, hoping that Mama D’Leau would say something back, anything that might give her a clue. But the jumbie looked at her with a half-smile playing around her lips. Help me find them, Corinne continued. Please.

  Mama D’Leau’s smile widened. Her teeth were as white as pearls against her deep purple lips. Why you troubling me with that? Missing children don’t bother me.

  We brought you all these gifts, Bouki said, pointing.

  Malik pulled his brother’s arm down. Slowly.

  I already tell you hush, not so? Your mother never teach you manners? Speak when you spoken to.

  I don’t have a mother, Bouki began. And Hugo is not exactly—

  Mama D’Leau’s face contorted in anger. The end of her tail whipped out and around Bouki’s neck. Malik tried to pry him free, but the seaweed around his legs tightened and pulled him away.

  You either shut up, or I can shut you up, Mama D’Leau said.

  The children, Corinne said quickly. Only you can help find them.

  I not feeling too good about children this moment, Mama D’Leau said. But seeing as you so generous. She pulled down another banana leaf, which held a wooden-handled brush. Mama D’Leau frowned and let it fall to the bottom untouched. She tried another leaf—this time a gold hoop earring fell off, which Mama D’Leau attached to the middle of one of her plaits.

  That’s not where it— Dru began, but Corinne put a finger to her lips and Dru stopped.

  Maybe you bring enough to ask two questions. Mama D’Leau tilted her head and smiled in such a way that Corinne knew she was not telling the truth.

  You will hurt him, Corinne said.

  Oh. Yes. Mama D’Leau unwrapped her tail from Bouki’s throat. So. What else you want?

  The question about Severine burned in Corinne’s mind, but she could never ask it. She shook her head.

  Mama D’Leau’s smile faded. If is only children you want, is that you get. But first, you will do me a favor. She settled into the twisting curves of her tail. You will get something for me. And is a good thing you bring your friends because you going to need as much help as you can get.

  I didn’t bring them, Corinne protested.

  Oh yes you did, Mama D’Leau said. You asked for them to come along. You was telling me how they helped you before when you had to go up against that other jumbie. Isn’t that what you was thinking when the water pulled you down?

  Corinne’s body went slack. She had made only one small wish for help. She hadn’t realized it would put her friends in danger.

  Whatever happen next, is only you to blame, Mama D’Leau said. All of you remember that.

  Mama D’Leau hummed deep in her throat, and four mermaids arrived, each with dark skin, a long fish tail, and beautifully braided hair. The longest one had a flashing green tail with fins that spread like delicate chiffon. She held the hand of a smaller, greenish-blue mermaid who was plainer than the first, but who had a striking line like liquid gold down her middle. A third was silvery at the tips of her fins, with blue scales that darkened toward her belly. And the last one, the smallest, who swam ahead of the others, was dark yellow, with bright red at the tip of her fins. The ends of her tail looked frayed, like cloth, and one side was longer than the other, as if a piece of it had been ripped away. The mermaids swam to a stop just in front of Corinne and her friends. Mama D’Leau loomed over them, but bowed her head to each and whispered something in a language Corinne could not make out. The mermaids looked puzzled at Mama D’Leau’s words, but when she had finished, they nodded and took a position next to each of the children.

  The smallest one
, with her slender arms and fiery tail, went to Corinne. Her hair was cornrowed in an intricate pattern of swirls at one side that dropped and flowed past her shoulders. Like Mama D’Leau, she had adorned her hair, but her braids were twined with rocks and shells at the crown and ends instead of with small, crawling creatures. And like Mama D’Leau, her scales started to thin from her stomach to her shoulders, which were a sun-warmed brown, like Corinne’s. The biggest one, who was both long and curvy, had a sneer on her face when she stopped next to Bouki. Her hair was flat-twisted against her scalp in a perfect spiral like a snail’s shell. It was pinned into a bun at the back of her neck with bits of coral. She flipped her silvery tail and leaned in close to sniff him as though he was a snack. Bouki’s mouth turned down and his skin paled. He looked like he might throw up. He tried to move away from the mermaid, but the seaweed kept him anchored and he swayed like an upside-down pendulum.

  The mermaid next to Dru had hair that was plaited like Corinne’s but in smaller sections that looked like a hundred long, thin braids hanging to her wide hips. Malik’s mermaid had her hair in fat cornrows that followed the shape of her head and fell in layers against her green scales. All the mermaids looked at Corinne and her friends with something that resembled disgust and curiosity.

  They babbled at each other in a language that sounded like water trickling over rocks. It was beautiful, but impossible to understand.

  You know what you have to do, Mama D’Leau told them. She turned to leave.

  Wait! We don’t! Corinne called out.

  Mama D’Leau turned back slowly. The same smile that danced at the edges of her lips was back again. You have a question for me?

  Careful, Malik said.

  Mama D’Leau snapped her eyes in his direction, and he bit his bottom lip.

  Corinne understood what Malik meant. She had to figure out how to ask without asking. You haven’t told us what we will be getting for you, she said.

  Mama D’Leau’s smile faded. Of course. You will be getting an opal. It’s a kind of rock.