Rise of the Jumbies

by Tracey Baptiste

  “But you brought them with you.” Mama D’Leau sneered at the children.

  “These are friends of mine,” Papa Bois said. “They have asked for my help. Seems you have someone of theirs.”

  Mama D’Leau nodded. “I have something else, too. Meet me at the edge.”

  Papa Bois moved forward. Mama D’Leau skimmed along the top of a wave as it rumbled to the beach. As they got closer to each other, the jumbies’ bodies began to change. Papa Bois’s legs and back straightened out, making him appear taller, and his hooves became bare feet with anklets of twisted vines.

  Mama D’Leau’s tail separated into legs and the water clung around her like a sparkling silver dress.

  Papa Bois’s face changed too. The white beard disappeared, and his hair darkened. Each cornrow was twisted with twigs and leaves. His eyes never changed. They were still twinkling and dark against his bark-brown skin as he arrived at the edge of the water with the sea slipping past his toes.

  With no tail to lengthen her body, Mama D’Leau was only a little taller than Papa Bois. Her copper skin gleamed, while her eyes flashed the same golden color as the sea under the setting sun. She stood in the barest edge of a wave, just in front of Papa Bois. They looked like any other man or woman, only more beautiful than any two people Corinne had ever seen before.

  The sun sank beneath the waves and both of them were cast in an orange glow. Mama D’Leau reached up into the pile of hair wrapped at the top of her head, and pulled out the stone Bouki had hidden. “It’s the ocean,” she explained. “See? This is what it is like under the water.”

  He nodded and laughed. “I see. It’s both of us. Land and sea.”

  “Together,” she said.

  He took the stone from her and looked at it carefully. “Thank you.”

  Mama D’Leau bowed gracefully.

  Malik made a face like he was going to throw up.

  “Oh no, do you think they’re going to kiss? It looks like they’re going to kiss. Disgusting.” Everyone spun toward the sound of Bouki’s voice.

  He pulled himself out of the water, looking like a half-drowned cat.

  Hugo splashed into the sea and gathered Bouki up, laughing and hugging him. “You should not have done what you did!” Hugo said angrily. “You could have died!”

  “Sorry,” Bouki said. “Malik and I will leave. We won’t bother you again.”

  “Leave to go where?” Hugo asked.

  “You’re mad at us, so we will go,” Bouki said. “Back to the caves.”

  Hugo’s huge body softened. “You are going nowhere, son. We will always be together. You will just have to stand here and let me yell at you.” He hugged Bouki again.

  “I prefer the yelling,” Bouki whined. “She already squeezed me half to death.”

  Hugo let go of Bouki and hugged Malik instead.

  By the time Corinne looked at the jumbies again, they were moving away from each other and transforming back into their usual selves. Mama D’Leau’s tail unfurled beneath her, and she grew tall again. Papa Bois leaned on his cane and his back bent with age as his beard flowed down his bare chest.

  Mama D’Leau turned to Corinne. “You did what I asked, so I will hold up my end of the bargain.” She reached out and Corinne walked to her.

  “I’m coming with you,” Pierre said.

  The white witch gripped Pierre’s shoulder with her good hand. Corinne had not seen her arrive on the beach. She shook her head at both of them.

  “My deal is with her alone,” Mama D’Leau said. “But don’t worry, eh? I won’t harm her.”

  Fear gripped Corinne as Mama D’Leau pulled her under the water and out to sea.

  You are taking me to them, Corinne said.

  I’m taking you to her, Mama D’Leau said.

  Her.

  Don’t act stupid, Corinne. You know exactly who I mean.

  So she survived, Corinne said.

  Mama D’Leau snorted. Of course she did. Did you think you could stop a jumbie?

  32

  Lagoon des Enfants

  Mama D’Leau pulled Corinne over coral reefs and past slow-moving manatees and leatherback turtles. They crossed the foul-smelling section of water where the witch’s swamp emptied into the sea. One unfortunate little fish got just close enough and Mama D’Leau reached out and caught it mid-dive. She tore into it with her teeth until there was nothing left, not even a bone or one shimmering scale. She felt Corinne’s disgust. Hungry? she asked.

  Corinne shook her head no. The mermaids were different when we crossed the ocean, she said.

  So?

  It all started after we found a sunken ship.

  Mmm hmm.

  They showed me what happened to them on that ship.

  Mama D’Leau ground her teeth. They couldn’t have.

  They did. I saw it. I felt them drown. You erased their memories so they wouldn’t know who they were. But when they got home, they started to remember their families and the lives they had. They were so sad that Ellie—

  Imagine if they remembered that pain all the time, Mama D’Leau said. How you think they would survive that, eh? How many can survive being ripped from their family and friends, forever torn apart? She tugged Corinne along roughly. Memories are painful.

  You pruned them, Corinne said.

  What you mean, prune?

  I mean, you cut off the part of their memory that was hurting them. You didn’t think it was something they needed. You were trying to help.

  Ridiculous. Why I would do that?

  Because you were lonely.

  Mama D’Leau blew water from her nose. She had missed the entrance to the lagoon. Stop talking. You too distracting.

  You treat them like your children. That’s because you chose them. Like Bouki and Malik are Uncle Hugo’s children now, but they weren’t always. You wanted the mermaids for your family.

  Mama D’Leau had never missed the inlet before. Everything was so much quieter without the girl chattering in her ears. People were so much better as stones. Sometimes family is a choice you make, she said. And other times they are a burden you bear. It’s a gamble. Sometimes it works out.

  And sometimes it doesn’t.

  Mama D’Leau heard Severine’s song rippling out, and made a sharp turn into a narrow stream, following it. The water stilled and was less salty there. It reflected the rising moon and filtered light to the waving plants below. Mama D’Leau watched two Corinnes staring at each other in the glassy surface.

  Severine continued to sing.

  Hush sweetheart, oh my darling,

  Fall asleep now, time to rest.

  Waves push and pull the cradle

  Gently in your water nest.

  The water songs were powerful, but the girl seemed stronger. Mama D’Leau felt Corinne willing herself not to listen.

  Where are we? Corinne asked.

  The people on the island call it lagoon des enfants, Mama D’Leau said. Your friends are not the first little ones trapped beneath the water here, but they may be the first to survive. You see, it doesn’t look dangerous from the top. Nor deep neither. And the small silver fish real charming. Little ones love to try and catch them, but the ground sticky and slippery, and the current pulls strong.

  Mama D’Leau stopped in the middle of the lagoon and pointed toward a shadowy corner. They all waiting there, she said. Your friends, and . . . your tante.

  How did you know she is my aunt?

  I have been here a long time, Corinne. I can smell the family in your blood, and I can see them in your body and the way you move. You have your father’s kind eyes, and your mother’s courage, and your tante’s stubborn streak.

  I don’t, Corinne said.

  Why didn’t Ellie come back, Corinne? Mama D’Leau asked.

  She—
/>   No, not she. You, Mama D’Leau said. You could have stopped her.

  I tried to save her, Corinne said.

  Dead is dead. What would you do for the ones you love? No less than me, I expect. Mama D’Leau let go of Corinne. She waited to feel the current pull Corinne down with its invisible fingers. The vibration of Corinne’s panic mingled with Severine’s song and tickled Mama D’Leau’s skin.

  Gently gently, darling doux doux,

  Hard upon the rocks we fall.

  Water takes away the broken

  Bones and hearts and memories all.

  Mama D’Leau felt Corinne’s lungs empty of air, and her muscles tire and grow as slack as the waving plants beneath her. The water washed Corinne toward a cave in the shadows.

  Mama D’Leau laughed.

  33

  Favorite Food

  The little douen broke free of the pack and ran along the uneven ground of the forest. Charred bits of wood cracked and turned to dust beneath his feet as he went. His tough muscles helped him break through burned-out trunks of trees and scarred shrubs as easily as if he was running through his mama’s sheets hanging from a line. He reached the outskirts of his old village and waited.

  “Allan!” Mrs. Ramdeen called out. Her voice cracked like twigs under a heel. “Allan!”

  He was beginning to feel her better than he could see her. He still had his eyes, not like the other douens, but he felt her heart thrumming first, faster and faster, as she came into the forest, and he could smell her warm, salty skin and the blood that ran underneath. He smelled the cooking on her, too. Pelau. She held a bowl of it in one hand and as she walked, trembling with fright, grains of rice, bits of sweet round peas, and pieces of seasoned meat fell to the ground, leaving a trail that Allan ate after her. Pelau was his favorite.

  This time he did not let her go off alone. This time he allowed himself to get closer. If she turned around, she might just make him out in the shadows. But she could not sense him like he could sense her. And after a while, she returned to the village.

  Allan ate the last of the pelau. He felt someone else deeper in the forest and followed their frantic thrumming heart. He arrived at the open lagoon just in time to see Corinne disappear under the water, being pulled down as if by a current. There were others down there, too. Little ones dreaming of their mothers’ cooking. Maybe it was not too late for them.

  34

  Tante Severine

  The moonlight disappeared and Corinne was plunged into darkness once again. She looked around, hoping to spot something she could grab on to, anything that might help her rise to the surface, to air, before it was too late. Her eyes began to pick up subtle shades in the water. Then the lagoon lit up the way the sea did when Corinne had touched Sisi’s hand, only she was on her own now. She blinked a few times to make sure she wasn’t imagining it, and reached out and caught a reed with blue and purple along its edges and yellow running through its veins. She could see like a jumbie, but she still couldn’t breathe underwater. And there was still the pull of the song that made her want to relax, to let go.

  Corinne’s fingers loosened and the current took her into the cave where rocks glittered on the sandy floor, and the sides shone. They reminded her of her mama’s stone and how it had glowed when she needed it most. She felt the stone pulling against her, but even her mama’s necklace could not pry her away from the water’s hold. It was no use going against the tide, her papa had said.

  Corinne’s lungs burned. She wished she could see her papa’s face one more time, but her mama was here, and she could kiss her. She brought the stone to her lips. The current shifted and the stone slipped into her mouth. Corinne spat it out, realizing that for that one moment, she could breathe. But when the stone was gone, so was her breath. She put the stone in her mouth again, and her lungs filled with air.

  The current tapered off, leaving Corinne adrift in the middle of the dark cave. The song came from one of several small openings that led farther back. Corinne followed it to a large chamber where glowing rocks illuminated the faces of three sleeping children—and Severine.

  She was not as Corinne remembered. The beautiful woman who had awed everyone at the market was gone. But so, too, was the creature made of wood with insects crawling into and through her flesh that Corinne had fought on the cliff. What was left was something in between—a woman with dark, shining eyes and flesh as hard and smooth as driftwood. The tattered remains of her green dress floated around her like tentacles. Her hair had come undone and waved like a black crown around her face. Something about her was still beautiful, but also frightening.

  You’ve come, Severine said. She smiled happily as if the last time she had seen Corinne had been pleasant. She took Corinne’s hand and led her to the sleeping children. Up close, Corinne saw that their throats were glowing orange.

  Sister’s child, Severine said, we have another chance to bring everyone to our side. Look how easy it was to get these.

  Corinne went to Laurent. He was wearing the same white shirt and blue shorts as on the day of the earthquake. Now Corinne could see that it was not his throat that was glowing, but something inside it shining through.

  Now that you are here, it will be easier, Severine said. Parents have been keeping the children away from the water. But you can bring them to the edge. They know you. They trust you.

  Laurent’s head lolled forward, and Severine smoothed it back.

  You’re hurting them, Corinne said.

  No, no, Severine said. See? They are fine. They are happy. And now you are here, and I am happy too.

  Corinne shook her head. You hate me, she said. You tried to turn my father into a jumbie.

  Like you, Severine said. He would have been just like you.

  No. He couldn’t think. He wasn’t my papa.

  Severine frowned as if she was trying to understand. But it would not have been that way for long, she said. As soon as you joined us—

  You would have killed everyone on the island! Corinne said.

  Something of the anger that Corinne remembered flitted across Severine’s face, making her frown. Then she relaxed again. We have a better plan now, she said, waving her hand toward the children. Now everyone will come to us.

  We? Corinne sputtered. The leather-wrapped rock dislodged from her mouth, and she had to put it in again. This is not my plan.

  Of course it is! Severine said. You showed me how families would never be split up. You came to get your mama’s necklace, and you fought for your papa. Their mothers and fathers will do the same. They will come looking for them. And when they find them—

  No!

  Wickedness pooled into Severine’s eyes. Yes. And all because of you, she said.

  I will stop you, Corinne said.

  Like you did last time? Severine floated closer to Corinne. Look how much better it is. Here you are, under­water, in a dark cave, seeing just as well as I see, breathing, surviving all because of your mama’s stone. It’s missing a piece, isn’t it? Severine reached into her own throat and pulled out a shard that glowed the same orange as Corinne’s, the same color as the things inside the children’s throats. The jumbie smiled wickedly. The whole piece was too strong for me. But this little shard has been helpful. Thank you, sister’s child. You have given me everything. Even some new children to take. I can feel them by the water.

  Corinne thought of Dru, Malik, and Bouki waiting on the beach. Her chest tightened. Not only had she failed to get rid of Severine, but she had given Severine a way to capture and hold on to her friends. She had shown Severine that the children’s families would not abandon them. And now she had lined up the people she cared about most at the edge of the water to be captured. Nothing she had done helped. And in the process, she had begun to feel more like jumbie than girl.

  Marlene stirred, and Severine leaned over and fixed the ribbon in
her hair as she sang,

  Come and join us in the water,

  Sing a chorus to the waves.

  Skip the current, rope the seaweed,

  Play among the fishes’ graves.

  The water’s song makes them forget, Severine said. And when they forget, they don’t struggle so much. I learned it from the mermaids when I was trapped under the rocks. I listened to them sing away the memories of the fishermen who saw them. They were beautiful songs. I was beginning to forget, too. And I stopped trying to escape. And then the earthquake came and every memory shook out with it. I remembered you, Corinne. I remembered how in the end, you had tried to help me. Because that is family. Family forgives. And I forgive you, niece.

  Corinne felt the weight of all her failures press her body down like water at the bottom of the sea. Worry closed in on her like shadows. What was there left to do?

  She reached for Severine’s outstretched hand. I forgive you too, Tante Severine.

  35

  A Breath of Water

  Severine smiled. Corinne saw hope creep into her aunt’s eyes, and she felt a stab of guilt.

  Watch them, Severine said. I will get your friends.

  As soon as Severine was gone, Corinne tried to wake Laurent. He opened his eyes wide and gasped for air. Corinne tried to stop him, to talk to him, but he only thrashed around. She hummed, trying to recall the words of Severine’s song, but in her panic she couldn’t remember it exactly.

  Come in the water,

  Sing . . . sing to the waves.

  Follow the current,

  We’ll play in the . . . graves?

  Laurent opened his mouth to scream and swallowed water. Corinne tried to hold him steady and closed her eyes, humming again. This time she tried her own song.

  Hush, friend, I came to save you.

  Please be still and close your eyes.

  One more trick, we’ll swim away

  From Severine’s nasty lies.

  As soon as Laurent became still, Corinne pulled him out of the cave. But the current made it almost impossible to tow him. She settled him on the rocks and buried her face in her hands.