Spellbound: a Tale of Magic, Mystery & Murder

by Louise Ann Barton

CHAPTER 26 - THE MARKET

  In the village of Cristo, in the Dominican Republic, 1987.

  Rosalinda came running down the path with her three charges close on her heels. She'd been hired by the English lady, who was staying at the hotel, to entertain these children while their parents packed. This was to be her last time with the Culpepper children as their parents were checking out at noon.

  Rosalinda took the children to the outdoor market near the hotel, where various vendors and their wares were spread out in little clusters. Rosalinda knew there would be curious items, not only to buy, but also to stare at and wonder. There were good things to eat, old friends to talk to, and new friends to meet. She knew the children would be happy and busy in the market, so she led them there.

  The children ran merrily around the lady selling woven, straw mats, coming full circle to stop in front of her wares. The vendor, a middle-aged, black woman, attired in a brightly patterned, cotton dress, was sitting on a pile of her own creations. She fanned herself with one of her straw fans. Alice, the youngest child, was fascinated with the process and leaned close to the vendor to inspect the mystery.

  The vendor took one look at the four-year-old's serious face thrust so close to her own and laughed aloud. Then the woman began fanning Alice. As the child felt the breeze gently caress her face, her blue eyes opened in wide surprise. The lady fanned harder and Alice's blonde curls flew about.

  Alice shot a glance at her older brother in alarm. Ten-year-old Philip was laughing gleefully. Her sister, eight-year-old Emily, was giggling, and Rosalinda was smiling. Alice decided maybe this strange, new experience was really fun and she soon joined the laughter. The woman spoke to them, but the children didn't understand the rapid Spanish.

  "Rosalinda, please," Philip pleaded, "what is she saying?"

  "She says she also sells toys for children. They are made of straw," Rosalinda replied, speaking slowly so the children could grasp the explanation. The vendor reached behind the pile of mats and drew out the small, straw figure of an animal.

  "How smashing!" declared Emily, in her crisp, British accent. "It looks like a little burro." She reached out and the vendor handed over the toy for inspection.

  "Oh, what a clever thing it is," announced Philip. "Just see how well it's made. We must purchase it."

  "Yes, it is a dear little thing," Emily agreed, "but father won't allow us to spend another cent on purchases."

  "Besides, we can't close our cases now," Philip said sadly and handed the burro back to the vendor.

  Rosalinda expressed their regrets to the woman and the group scampered off. They scampered past the families selling peeled oranges and long slices of pineapple, then past the man hawking amber and seashell necklaces. Gathering speed, they raced around the couple selling bananas. Alice had her head turned to watch the necklace man moving his wares about on a small, portable rack and ran into something. Slam!

  She was knocked over backwards and would have sat down hard, except a hand came out of nowhere and grabbed her. Alice looked up . . . and up . . . and up. A very tall, white lady with a great amount of long, wild, taffy-colored hair was peering down at her. The woman held Alice erect and stared at her with large, strange, gray eyes. Cat’s eyes.

  Alice screamed!

  "Stop it, Catherine Elizabeth! You're scaring that child," said a sharp voice. Alice tried to turn to face this new threat, but the tall lady was holding her too tightly. "Let the child go, Catherine," said the other lady stepping forward and putting a tiny hand on the tall woman's larger one.

  Catherine released her grip and Alice turned. The second lady, a tiny blonde who wore a cornflower-blue, linen dress that matched her eyes, bent down beside Alice. Alice caught her breath in surprise. This new lady was very small and, obviously, a tourist. The woman leaned over and gently kissed the child's cheek, brushing back bright curls from Alice's eyes with her fingertips. "You're not hurt?" the lady asked.

  Alice relaxed. She shook her head. "You talk funny."

  The small lady laughed. "We're Americans." She waved her arm to indicate her three companions. Alice regarded the four women gravely.

  "Oh, Robin," said a third lady, "you two look so beautiful together." Alice glanced up and saw a fiery-haired lady beaming down at her. "You both have the same shade of blonde curls and blue eyes! You could be mother and daughter!" she exclaimed.

  Another lady, this one with dark hair, stepped in front of Alice. She took the lens cap from her camera. "You're such a pretty girl," she said to Alice. "Would you pose for a picture with my friend, Robin?"

  Alice nodded. Robin put an arm around Alice and rested her cheek against the child's cheek. "Can you smile?" Robin asked.

  "Belly button!" said the tall lady. Alice giggled and hugged Robin as the dark-haired lady snapped the picture. "Thank you, sweetheart," said Robin.

  By now, Rosalinda had noticed Alice was missing and she, Emily, and Philip had doubled back to find the child. "Here are your friends," exclaimed the tall lady. "Run along now and watch where you're going."

  "But before you go," Robin interrupted, "here's enough money to buy treats for the four of you." Turning to Rosalinda, Robin asked in halting Spanish, "How much do you need to buy sweets from that vendor?" She pointed to the lady selling candied squares.

  Rosalinda helped the woman count out the required amount. The four children thanked their benefactors and skipped off. After making their purchases, the children continued wandering, munching as they went. They came upon a young, brown man in shorts and a Mickey Mouse tee shirt, who was selling wooden, hand-carved items displayed on stands. Emily and Philip paid particular attention to the wooden figures, while little Alice was enchanted with a natural-wood mortar and pestle. She began furiously pounding the pieces together.

  Rosalinda quickly pried Alice's tiny, candy-smeared fingers from the item, lest it become damaged, and handed it back to the vendor. Alice's lower lip trembled and her big, blue eyes began to fill with tears. The little nanny bent and whispered to her. Alice listened and the threatening storm was instantly quelled.

  Rosalinda led her charges away from the mainstream of shoppers and off to the side, under a tree. The four children sat on the grass, watching the knots of people shopping, as they nibbled their sweets.

  "Tell us, Rosalinda, tell us again of your grandmother's adventures," pleaded Emily.

  "Yes, do," exclaimed Philip.

  "You promised," added Alice gravely.

  "Look, I don't know. . .," Rosalinda began, but the children insisted.

  Philip pleaded, Emily coaxed, and Alice whined.

  Rosalinda finally gave in and began to relate the stories her mother had told. She told the children of when her grandmother was young and lived in Liberte before coming to Cristo.

  "There was little work and almost nothing to eat," Rosalinda began. "People began sending their children out to the cities to beg for money. When the children had enough money from begging, they would bring it back to their mothers. When the money was gone, the children would have to leave home again. They would have to go back to the city to ask tourists for more money."

  "How old would the children have to be?" whispered Emily.

  "Oh, just a little older than Alice," replied Rosalinda.

  "But weren't they frightened?" asked Philip.

  "And look at her little feet!" exclaimed Emily pointing to Alice's tiny sandals. "How could someone that small walk all the way to the nearest city?"

  "Well, they did," Rosalinda insisted.

  "Did your grandmother have to beg in the city?" asked Alice in her tiny voice.

  "Oh, no," smiled Rosalinda. "She was lucky! My grandmother was never sent away by her family."

  "Did your mother ever send you away?" Philip wanted to know.

  "No, my brother and I were lucky, too. None of the children in our family were ever sent away." Rosalinda smiled and looked very proud. Alice crawled onto Rosalinda's lap and hugged her with sticky hands. "My mum would never
send us away either!" the child stated fiercely.

  On the other side of the market, the four American tourists grew weary of haggling with the banana vendor. Robin glanced over at the group of children under the tree and smiled. "Look over there, Raven," she said nudging her dark-haired companion. "That little, native girl has such a rapport with those children. What a beautiful picture they make."

  Raven turned in the indicated direction and smiled. "Oh, they are lovely, aren't they." she agreed. "Look at the different ethnic backgrounds coming together, innocent and guileless. Youth, candy, and hugs!" Raven removed the lens cap again. "I want that picture," she announced.

  Robin gave her friend a little push in the direction of the tree. "I knew you would, Raven, so get over there before they move and spoil your shot." Raven toddled off on her photographic quest, while her three companions resumed arguing with the banana vendor.

  "Permit me," said a voice beside them in perfect English.

  The three friends turned in the direction of the voice. A small woman in a crisp, beige, cotton blouse and matching slacks stood beside them. She wore no makeup and her stick-straight, coppery-auburn hair was tied back in a no-nonsense fashion. The woman flashed a friendly smile.

  "Do you mind, ladies? You'll never manage to make this purchase at the rate you're going."

  The stranger appeared to be the sort of independent type who was used to taking charge. Without waiting for a reply, she approached the banana man and began haggling with him in very passable Spanish. The man appeared to agree with what she was saying for he took a bunch of bananas and handed them over to Robin, who promptly passed them to Catherine. Then the stranger plucked coins from Robin's hand and gave the money to the vendor.

  With the difficult transaction finally over, everyone began to smile. They glanced over at Raven. She, too, had been victorious in taking a number of photos of the lovely, dark, Dominican girl with the beautiful blonde, English children. As Raven turned away from her subjects, she paused to replace the lens cap. It was then she overheard part of the tale that Rosalinda related to the Culpeppers.

  "There were those who used magic," Rosalinda continued as the children regarded her in wide-eyed wonder. "How they did this magic was kept secret. Some of the magic was good. It was used to heal and help people. And some of the magic was bad."

  Raven pretended to fiddle with her camera, trying to find an excuse to tarry so she could hear more of the little nanny's story. She stepped over to the nearest vendor and began to finger the amber necklaces as if she meant to make a purchase. All the while, her ears remained alert, straining to hear.

  "But there were others that made magic. A different kind of magic," Rosalinda continued. "They came from Haiti, the land beyond my grandmother's village of Liberte. Their magic was like ours in that some of it was good. And some was bad. The evil magicians were called Bocors." Her voice dropped to a whisper.

  "Sometimes they could make dead people walk!"

  The three children hung on Rosalinda's every word, their eyes wide and mouths hanging open in amazement. Philip was the first to recover. "Do you mean like the undead?"

  "I do not know what this means," Rosalinda answered looking puzzled. "They were dead that walked."

  "Yes! Undead like vampires," Philip persisted. "Look, these people die, but their bodies don't rot. And they can walk around and prey on others. They don't eat food. They drink blood instead."

  Rosalinda looked confused. "The ones I speak of do die," she agreed, "and they are buried. But then the evil ones dig them back up. The Bocors make them rise from the grave and walk around. And, yes, they do not rot away."

  "And blood! They drink human blood!" persisted Philip.

  "So, then they're vampires?" added Emily.

  "No, not blood," whispered Rosalinda. "They eat food. A simple diet. But it must not contain salt. And they cannot think for themselves. They must do the bidding of the Bocor."

  "But if they're not vampires, what are they?" demanded Philip.

  "Yes! What? What?" demanded little Alice, punctuating each exclamation with a pat of her tiny palm against Rosalinda's cheek.

  Rosalinda caught Alice's hand and paused before forming her answer. The children held their collective breath in anticipation. Raven listened intently and then, to her great annoyance, the necklace vendor chose this moment to begin a hard-sell harangue. Raven shot him a scathing look and sidestepped to the woodcarving display.

  Rosalinda leaned close to the children circled around her on the grass under the tree. "Zombies," she whispered. "They had blank, staring eyes. And they moved slowly, with no will of their own." The girl made a blank, staring face to illustrate her remark and Alice and Emily each gave a tiny squeal. Philip stared at the young storyteller in fascination.

  He was the first to recover and was full of questions. "Did it happen to everyone who died?" he demanded to know.

  "Everyone?" breathed Emily.

  "Everyone?" chimed in Alice in a tiny whisper.

  "Oh, no, not everyone," Rosalinda assured them. "Just to some people. Now and then." Her eyes grew distant as if remembering something told to her long ago.

  "No one ever knew who it might happen to next," she whispered. "Since no one knew how it happened, each person feared that they, or someone they loved, might be next."

  "But couldn't the families keep their dead relatives from rising up?" asked Philip, frowning. "I have a book at home that says a person can be stopped from becoming a vampire by cutting off the head. Or you can put garlic in its mouth. Or drive a stake through its heart."

  "No! The dead people I speak of were not vampires," Rosalinda insisted. "I tell you they were called zombies! But there were two ways to be sure they did not walk again after death." She paused. The children leaned forward eagerly. It was all Raven could do not to reveal herself. "There were people in Liberte who would not bury a relative unless that person had died twice," Rosalinda whispered.

  "How can a person die twice?" demanded Philip.

  Yes! Yes! How? wondered the eavesdropping Raven.

  "Someone in the family would take a knife and stab the dead person here," Rosalinda said, pointing to her heart with one slim, brown finger. The children gasped in response and clutched their chests in empathy.

  "That's one way," said Philip. "What was the second way?"

  The three children leaned so close together that their heads almost touched.

  "You see, if they were already dead, being stabbed wouldn't really hurt. And it kept them from rising up again," Rosalinda continued.

  "And the second way," demanded Philip impatiently.

  "Yes, the second way, was to bury the person at the center of a crossroad, one with a lot of traffic. Then the relatives would take turns sitting and watching the spot."

  "What good did that do?" asked Emily.

  "No one could sneak back and steal the corpse while the people were watching. Also, they would wait until so much time passed that the body was too decomposed to be of any use to an evil magician."

  "Do people become zombies here? Here in Cristo?" asked Philip.

  "No, not here," answered Rosalinda standing up suddenly and depositing Alice on the grass. "In Haiti, and sometimes in Liberte. That's where zombies are. Now come along. It's time to join your mother." The children scrambled to their feet and dutifully headed toward the hotel.

  Raven brought her attention back to the item she held in her hand. It was a well-carved, natural-wood mortar and pestle. Turning it over, she found it was beautifully finished, although a trifle sticky from Alice's candy-stained, little fingers, and would be just perfect for preparing herbals. Raven asked the vendor the price and he named an amount she deemed fair.

  She glanced over at the vendor. The young man had his family working with him, a fragile, young woman and a little boy. Such a lovely family.

  Raven smiled, realizing this honest-but-poor, young man was obviously trying to make a living for his family with his woodcarving tal
ents and Raven couldn't bring herself to haggle over the price of the item. Besides, if she wanted to use this when casting spells, the rules of magic dictated she pay the price as asked so that no negative vibrations would be associated with the item.

  She willingly handed over the first price asked, to the young vendor's happy surprise, and searched out her companions in the crowd. Catherine caught Raven's eye and waved. Raven quickly wove her way back through the throng and rejoined her companions.

  "Raven, this is Susan Campbell." Robin gestured to the young woman who had interceded on their behalf with the banana vendor. She's just chock full of interesting tales about Cristo and we've invited her to join us at Las Naranjas for a drink."

  "A terrific idea," agreed Raven, "because I could really use something tall and cold in this heat. Lead the way, Robin."

  Raven paused a moment to rearrange her purchases, the better to carry them without dropping anything, and trotted off behind her companions as they set off for the hotel lounge.