Ellie sat there looking as perky as ever, waving at us as we walked in. Of course, she’d claimed the front row again for the first-years.
I genuflected as was the custom and crossed myself. I grunted as I struggled to get back to my feet—carrying forty pounds of snake around my shoulders didn’t make it easy. But you know… tradition is tradition. When you grew up Catholic, it mattered. Even if you didn’t always remember why. I huffed, mildly annoyed that Pauli didn’t just teleport his way into the pew.
“Dude, can’t you go into the pew yourself?”
“You should thank me! Lunges are great for the glutes!”
“That’s right. Brazil Butt Lift.”
“You know it!”
Ashley genuflected with comparable ease and followed behind me as we sat and waited for whatever was about to happen. Erzulie made a show of everything. And, apparently, the Trials were bathed in pageantry and ritual. If one thing could be counted on, it was that Erzulie would make the most of whatever tradition dictated.
A loud hoot followed by a bang stole my attention. I instinctively turned to the back of the sanctuary, where the sound had come from. There stood three men, wearing nothing but drums hanging from leather straps around their necks.
“Hot damn!” Pauli exclaimed.
I giggled as the drumline chorus ensued. It was a funky beat, no doubt. The three men danced as they drummed their way down the aisle. It was unlike anything I’d ever seen in a Catholic church—the most exciting thing I’d ever seen was when an altar boy got taken out by a priest via incense thurible. Come to find out, the chain hadn’t been attached properly. The priest got the thing swinging, smoke pouring out everywhere, and off it flew directly into Tommy Millbank’s cranium. I’d laughed out loud. Everyone else gasped. I felt like an asshole. Sort of how I felt now when what looked to be some kind of sacred naked drumline ritual processed down the center aisle. I had to press my fingers to my lips to restrain my laughter.
At least Isabelle found it funny, too.
Oh my! Look at how their butts ripple when they hit their drums!
I couldn’t help but look and almost lost my composure completely. I looked back at my other classmates. Ashley was biting her tongue, and Ellie looked overjoyed. Sauron’s head was bobbing to the beat.
Once the drumline made its way to the front, Erzulie appeared, again holding the Haitian pot that contained Nico’s ashes in both hands. Everyone stood the moment she stepped forward and, like a lemming, I followed suit. The headmistress gracefully glided toward the chancel wearing a long white dress. The way she moved, you’d think she was on wheels—no motion to her gait at all. Agwe was not far behind, still attended to by his human sponge bath. I felt bad for the girl—spending every waking moment ensuring that the Loa of the sea was comfortable, sufficiently moist, had to be a miserable existence.
The three drummers surrounded the two Loa. One to the left of them, another to the right, and the third standing directly behind them.
At once, they shouted a “whoop!” and beat their drums with a fury, each drummer perfectly in time with the other drummers’ strikes. Then at once, following a final loud bang, it stopped.
Erzulie placed Nico’s urn on the altar behind her—something else I was sure the Catholics wouldn’t have sanctioned—and turned back to make the universal “you may be seated” gesture with both hands, and the whole room obeyed.
“Esteemed citizens of Vilokan—all vodouisants and students. Today is a special day. Today we honor the passing of one of our own, Nico Freeman, by taking the first step toward ensuring our security and safety. The inauguration of candidates is a sacred moment—one meant to lay a foundation for the unity that the Trials promises to birth amongst us all. For these candidates were chosen by you. Tradition has afforded me no discretion in who has been selected. Nominations take precedence. Where more than one nomination is made, the most senior of the students from the said college will be chosen. If no nominations are made for a given college, the duty to compete will fall on the seniormost student who has yet to graduate from the Academy. This is a tried and true tradition. All but the seniormost student of any college could have simply opted out of the Trials if he or she desired by nominating a more senior student. I glanced over my shoulder at Mikah, who was directly behind me. I simply nodded at him, to lend him my support. Being members of the only two-student college meant that it was a sure thing he’d be chosen. He winked at me and smiled.
Erzulie was still talking about traditions, unity, how the Trials should bathe our Voodoo in love, blah, blah, blah. I didn’t pay much attention until she extended a hand and Agwe handed her a large envelope held closed by a waxen seal.
“Husband, have all intended nominations been received and recorded herein?”
Agwe nodded. He did not respond audibly—I still hadn’t heard him speak since he arrived. Rumor had it that he didn’t speak at all. I had a theory—he’d given his voice to an evil octopus lady in exchange for legs. Such a poor, unfortunate soul. At the very least, it seemed he’d grown more accustomed to walking. After handing over the sealed envelope, he quickly retreated to one of the chairs where a priest would normally sit during mass.
“If your name is announced, please step forward and kneel before me for your formal initiation into the Trials.”
“Why kneel?” I whispered to Pauli. “She’s a Loa, not a goddess.”
“Try telling her that!” Pauli hissed back into my ear.
“The first initiate, representing College Sogbo, is Sauron Lemursia, year one.”
A mild applause accompanied by several hoots and hollers erupted—not a sound I was accustomed to hearing in a church. Catholics don’t clap in church. At least we never did in my congregation. I don’t know why. Tradition, probably.
“Miss Lemursia, please approach and kneel for your blessing.”
Sauron looked not at all surprised by her nomination. I can’t say I wasn’t shocked, however, that a first-year student would be chosen. Sure, we’d been through a lot for first-years. We’d proven ourselves. But there were certainly more advanced students who could have represented College Sogbo. Alexa Windstrom, for instance—she’d accompanied Sogbo himself during his absence the first part of the year. She was the most senior student. It was rumored that she could tame a hurricane or quell a tornado with just a flick of her wrist. A real badass. How couldn’t she have been nominated? Sauron was good, no doubt! But she was no Alexa. Not yet, anyway.
“In the words of Miss Windstrom, who nominated you for the Trials, there were none of us who were closer to Mr. Freeman than Sauron Lemursia. It is only fitting that she be chosen to honor her friend as the representative of College Sogbo.”
I huffed. She wasn’t his friend. Not really. She was his puppy. Before he’d gone, she did very little but occupy Nico’s shadow. Now, she’d actually come out of her shell. She’d become her own person. I’m sure she embraced the honor—she was from a traditional Voodoo family. They eat this kind of shit up. But it seemed like her nomination was a sentimental gesture—not the best move if College Sogbo hoped to win.
I shook my head as Sauron remained on the steps, kneeling in front of Erzulie.
“Miss Lemursia, your nomination is accompanied by a gift from she who submitted your name. Will Miss Windstrom approach?”
Alexa stood from her seat in the back of the cathedral and walked forward. Erzulie stepped aside and Alexa took in her place. “This medallion has been worn by every representative of College Sogbo who has ever competed in the Trials. It is my privilege to bestow it upon you, Sauron Lemursia. May Sogbo be with you, and his power flow through you and bring you victory.”
Alexa placed the medallion over Sauron’s neck. The room was silent—apparently this was one of those traditions too sacred, too revered, to be accompanied by applause. It felt, oddly, Catholic. After placing the medallion on Sauron, Alexa returned to her seat. Nearly every eye in the place was on her—on Alexa, not Sauron—mostly bec
ause it was hard to believe she wasn’t the one representing College Sogbo in the Trials.
Erzulie returned her eyes to her list. A wide grin split her face. “And representing College Erzulie, Tressa Gravaine. Year two.”
Erzulie continued speaking as Tressa made her way up front and knelt before the headmistress. I hadn’t ever talked to Tressa—most of the students in College Erzulie had an our-shit-don’t-stink air about them, especially since Erzulie became headmistress. That made them virtually unapproachable. Not to mention, every time I’d seen her, she’d dragged behind her a harem of shirtless men by leash and collar. The funniest part was that she almost always had two or three men in tow, and I don’t think I’d ever seen her leading the same ones twice. I wasn’t exactly sure what kind of shenanigans she was up to, but it didn’t take much imagination—or at least a few random Google searches—to wager a guess or two. Tressa was the spitting image of Erzulie—wavy black hair, tanned skin, and a figure most women find impossible to achieve minus the aid of elective surgery. “Nominated by Ellie Thompson, who has had the honor of being mentored by Miss Gravaine, Tressa is the perfect representative of College Erzulie. She attracts the love and devotion of all, and she wields her aspect second only to Erzulie herself. I must say, as her college’s Loa, I could not agree more.”
A raucous applause erupted. As I turned, I noticed there was one thing that all those who had leapt to their feet to cheer had in common. They were all men.
“That girl gets more men than I do!” Pauli said as he slithered around my shoulder. “She’s going to be hard to beat.”
“The next competitor,” Erzulie announced, her eyes fixed on the list in front of her, “represents College Samedi.”
This is going to be interesting, Isabelle remarked.
I nodded.
Erzulie cocked her head sideways. “Mr. Dudley Dumont, year two. His nomination was made anonymously.”
Dudley had been mentoring Nico before Nico disappeared. I hadn’t seen Dudley much since. As far as I knew, he didn’t live on campus. He was something of a recluse. Socially awkward. How he’d managed to handle Nico’s strong personality was befuddling. As rumor had it, though, Dudley was no slouch when it came to the arts. It was Dudley’s mentoring, in fact, that had made Nico so proficient at dollcraft. Certainly, any vodouisant can practice dollcraft—but those who possess the aspect of a Ghede Loa, like that of Baron Samedi or Maman Brigitte, can actually manipulate the spirits of the deceased. It’s what some might call necromancy—but for those who belonged to College Samedi, it was a revered art.
There were only a few claps as Dudley approached the altar and knelt before Erzulie to receive his blessing.
“College Aida-Wedo,” Erzulie continued, “was without any nominations. According to tradition, the most senior student of the college will compete in the Trials. I therefore announce Brayden Caldwell, year five, as Aida-Wedo’s representative in the Trials.”
“Holy shit,” Pauli hissed into my ear.
“What? I don’t think I’ve ever met the kid.”
“He’s only sixteen.”
“Sixteen? How is he your college’s most senior student?”
“Child prodigy… you wouldn’t believe what he can do. Rumor has it he mastered the ability to teleport around the entire world his first year. Since then, God only knows what he’s managed to do.”
“Then why hasn’t he graduated? Not many colleges have fifth-year students.”
“The Academy won’t graduate him until he comes of age. So he’s basically stuck here. I thought Tressa was the favorite, but I’m not sure that even she stands a chance against Brayden. The kid is scary good.”
A multi-colored flash illuminated the sanctuary and Brayden appeared, already kneeling, on the steps in front of Erzulie. A few oohs and ahhs were audible from the crowd. While Aida-Wedo might not be the most powerful college, their abilities are nonetheless amongst the most showy.
“Finally…” Erzulie paused a moment. “We must announce the nominee for College Ogoun.”
Erzulie bit her lip, then turned toward Agwe and showed him the paper. The look of sheer distress on Erzulie’s face was telling. In truth, I wasn’t sure what to make of it. Neither Mikah nor I were particularly popular. Mikah had been involved in summoning Kalfu to begin with, and most students thought I was to blame in unleashing him permanently. So if Erzulie was not pleased by what she read, it was not immediately clear why. Still, Mikah had essentially accepted the fact that he would be our college’s representative. I wasn’t sure what the hubbub could be about.
After a few forceful whispers in Agwe’s ear and some determined nods in return, Erzulie took a deep breath. “While it is generally assumed that a nomination must come from within one’s own college, or at least from another student, there is no rule or definite tradition limiting from whom such nominations might come. Accordingly I am obligated to announce that Queen Marie Laveau herself has nominated Annabelle Mulledy, year one, to represent College Ogoun in the Trials.”
Pauli slithered off my neck—anticipating the fact that I’d have to stand up and approach the altar. I stepped to the edge of the pew and looked around the room. Blank faces stared back at me. No cheers. Even a gasp or a boo would be more welcome than the silence that had overshadowed the crowed. I took a deep breath and stepped toward the altar. Each of my steps seemed to echo through the cathedral.
Erzulie gestured for me to kneel.
I looked her in the eye and shook my head.
“It is customary to kneel for your blessing, Miss Mulledy.”
“Custom be damned,” I said.
“Excuse me?” Erzulie said, her eyes wide with rage.
“Custom be damned,” I repeated. “I do not worship you. I do not serve the Loa.”
Finally, the gasps I’d expected earlier sounded out from the crowd.
“Expel her!” a male voice from the back of the room insisted. A chorus of cheers followed, suggesting that there was more than one asshole in the room.
Erzulie smiled widely and raised her hand—a gesture meant to quell what might have soon become a Voodoo riot. “We stand here today in this beautiful cathedral due to the generosity of the Church. While the Church does not embrace us or our beliefs, it has nonetheless provided our people shelter for centuries. When my predecessor agreed to allow Miss Mulledy to join us, we all knew that she did not come from our world. We knew she came with a religion, with a faith, that was not precisely our own. We knew her ancestors had owned slaves—some of whom were your ancestors. But it was we who decided to take a step forward. We decided to welcome her, no less. Tell me, should we force Miss Mulledy to compromise her beliefs while we decry others who would have us abandon our beliefs? Miss Mulledy, you do not need to kneel. We accept you as you are.”
“Thank you, headmistress.”
“Queen Laveau has offered no justification for your nomination. Suffice it to say, it is a surprise to us all. But the blessing is yours no less. May you compete vigorously and represent College Ogoun with fidelity.”
Chapter Seven
Sometimes things are so absurd, so nonsensical, that there’s nothing left to do but smile. I couldn’t believe I’d been nominated… and by Marie Laveau herself? Why? I’d barely met her—just once in the hallway. And she wouldn’t have nominated me if she didn’t want me to win.
Pauli teleported off my shoulders. He weighed so much that, by contrast, when he left it felt almost like I was walking on air.
I heard a shriek.
I spun to see Pauli hanging from Ashley’s neck as she danced in place as if a spider nest had just hatched in her panties.
I laughed my ass off—just in time to feel Pauli’s weight press down on my shoulders again.
“Thanks for that,” I told Pauli. “I needed a good laugh.”
“Not funny!” Ashley protested.
“It kind of was,” Ellie added. “But don’t you dare ever do it to me, Pauli!”
As we
made our way toward Père Antoine Alley, I quickly retrieved my phone from my pocket.
“I almost forgot!” I said.
“Forgot what?” Pauli asked.
“What I’d promised earlier,” I said as I pressed my thumb to the screen, unlocking my phone. “Hey Siri, how do you tell the gender of a snake?” As soon as the results popped up, I started giggling.
“What’s so funny?” Pauli asked.
“This is what it says: ‘Find the cloaca opening. Look at the girth.’”
“Oh, I love that word. Girth… It’s so… filling.”
I rolled my eyes. “You would… It says that in a male snake the tail stays the same girth for an inch or two before tapering to the end of the tail. In the female, it tapers immediately.”
“Find my cloaca hole!”
“That’s not something you should ever tell a girl,” I smiled. “But okay.”
Pauli whipped his tail into my hands.
“Well, how about that.”
“Tell me!” Pauli said.
“It’s a boy!” I exclaimed. “You have a whole inch and a half before you taper.”
“An inch and a half? I can’t even brag about that!”
“Size isn’t everything.”
“Says who? Not Pauli, that’s for damned sure.”
I laughed.
“I figured you’d be pissed. You know, Queen Laveau apparently nominated you for this thing.”
I nodded. “I am pissed. But now that I’m in it, I’m going to win it.”
“That’s my girl!”
“And when I do, I’m getting you your body back.”
“Sweet!” Pauli said. “But when you do, could you do me a favor?”
“What’s that?” I asked.
“Trim the love handles just a bit. I had a cheesecake binge I was working off. And while you’re at it, take the inches from my waist and add them on—”
“Not happening,” I said, laughing. “You have enough of an ego as it is.”
Someone squeezed my shoulder—gently, lovingly. I knew who it was. Mikah stood beside me, showing off his pearly whites with a grin far too wide for what the circumstances of the moment called for. Pauli snapped at his hand, forcing him to pull his hand back and yelp.
Death Rites Page 4
