The old man heckled at us, and a quick look over my shoulder showed him hobbling after us, craning his neck trying to get a better look.
Tomas cursed and stopped. He spun on his heel and sped faster than the human eye could see back to the old man. He clamped a hand over his mouth and dragged him into the shadow of a building. It was quiet again. Tomas ran back to us and motioned us on. I considered asking him if the old man lived, but truly, I did not think I could stomach the truth.
Ro stopped at a self-contained hut with large white handprints across the fencing cutting it off from the street. Ravens circled overhead and I frowned. It was late for them to be out flying, and why over this shack?
A malnourished goat was tied to a wooden post, and a steel wire cage was stuffed with clucking hens. The place felt wrong, and I noticed mice scurrying as far away as possible to avoid passing too close. A wildcat, fur glossy and black, meowed at us from on top of the fence, and leaped over our heads to land silently on the ground, disappearing into an alleyway opposite.
I was wholly disturbed. “Where the hell are we?” I demanded.
Magic slid over my skin in an odd way. Usually I reached to magic and called it to me, but here magics literally hung in the air, waiting to be absorbed. I took another step toward the shack and tendrils power slipped through my body, cold fingers pushing through me, peering at who, and what I was. The invasion was nasty and I hissed.
Tomas muttered under his breath, took a step back.
Ro slid a humored look at the vampire, fighting a smile. “Papa Obe is tied to the Loa. He can help us.”
I had heard the name before, but like so many had brushed it off. The Sect was supposed to have eradicated the Vodoun years before.
“He’s a Bokor,” I said, swallowing hard.
Ro chuckled darkly. “No. He’s more than that.”
“He calls on the spirits of the dead. I didn’t understand how that could be possible before I knew about the Source, but I’ve heard Voodoo is different to normal magics.” I felt panicky. My nature did not like this at all. The space around me felt wrong, unnatural. I turned to Ro accusingly. “Why did you bring us here? This isn’t how it’s meant to be.”
“And how is it meant to be, child?” The voice made me jump a mile, and I blushed, feeling heat creep up my neck and spill into my cheeks.
My vampire snarled and he reached forward to wrap his fingers tightly around my wrist.
“Ah, well, I mean, it’s just that I....” I was having serious difficulty stringing a sentence together, intimidated by the person in front of us.
The man in front of me was not young nor was he particularly beautiful, but power radiated off him in waves. His face was nut brown and his hair a shock of white, eyebrows a slash of gray and his beard neatly shaved to cover his chin and upper lip. He was dressed in a ratty black tunic and tattered jeans. His feet were bare. He was old yet had a spritely bearing. In one hand, he clutched what looked like a cane of human bone, but I could not be sure.
“I am a Houngan.” He shook his open palms at the sky and the beaded bracelets on his wrists clinked and jangled together. “I serve the Loa with both hands girl. One must walk the path of light and dark to find balance. It may feel wrong to you but that is because you hold strongly to the light and see the dark as something wicked to defeat.” He looked at Tomas. “Though I suspect you know something of darkness and its attractions.”
My lips pressed together and I ignored that loaded observation. “The Loa?” I asked. “You speak as if there is more than one god of this name.”
He made a strange clicking sound, his tongue hitting the roof of his mouth once that gave an impression of annoyance. “Even the oldest beings forget the old ways. You think in straight lines and disregard that many commune and serve the Creator in their own way. The Loa are our link to the great deity girl. All have sacred symbols and rituals that we follow.” He pointed at me. “You fairies used to have one who was marked with the symbols of all races and creeds. Does such a one no longer exist?”
I thought of Breandan and his marks. I had always wondered why he had so many and what they meant. He had told me they helped him see the truth and were protection … from witchcraft and black magics.
The Houngan focused on me then smiled toothily. “But I see you claimed some of what was lost.” His eyes were on my chest, but then he cocked his head, as if someone spoken in his ear. “But you have misplaced it again … oh … it has been taken?”
I touched my neck, missing the heavy weight that was the amulets. “The amulets are mine now, yes. I know where they are and I’ll get them back.”
“And the grimoire is safe with the High Lord?”
It could not have surprised me more if he had sprouted wings. I sucked in a breath. “You know about the grimoire?”
He leaned forward face kindly now. “Of course. You fairies needed a way to keep it out of the witches’ hands. My ancestor and the Mambo of that time gave you the solution, and gave it gladly. The Grand Bois – Loa of the forest – helped us craft the key and fine work it was. The power of my people is effective against witchcraft because we dabble in the darkness they feed from and use it against them. Who you think make the grimoire key? Fairy magics come from your connection to nature, by drawing from the Source created by the gods in the name of the Creator. You cannot hold that power indefinitely or store it talismans. That is not how your power works.” He held a hand to his chest where many chains and baubles hung. Some were pretty and others looked simply odd. Animal feet and bones wound together with twine and leather. “I use magic too, child, magic gifted to me by the Loa. But unlike you I cannot hold it. I must transfer it to objects or into spells. I am merely a conduit. That is how my power works.” His head turned to Ro, and he held out his arms. “Boy, come here and greet me.”
Ro broke out into a grin and slouched forward. Skipping up the steps he slung his arms around the man and thumped him on the back. “Hai, Papa Obe.”
The man hugged him back and smiled broadly showing pink gums. “My boy, what you bring to me door, eh?”
Ro stood back and looked the older man in the face. “I need help.” He stopped and looked over his shoulder. “And I need you to swear you won’t hurt my steady.”
Papa Obe rubbed his chin and eyes him thoughtfully. Though his expression was serious there was a wicked gleam in his milky orbs. “No good, Ro. There be no future with this one. Her time has come and gone. What remains belongs to that fairy there.” He pointed his stick at me and I jolted as if he’d poked me with it. “It was you who call on the Loa, was it not?”
I bit my lip, nodded. “I didn’t realize it was a them. I just … I’d heard a rumor that Lex’s Mother–”
“Mama Odette,” the Houngan supplied. “She was a friend of mine. A mighty Mambo and a great force against the witches.”
I shrugged. “I don’t know about any of that. She was dying and I knew my magic couldn’t save her … so I– I … looked elsewhere.”
The Houngan tapped his stick onto the ground; hand tight around the knobby top. “I know, child. And the Loa answered you – a rare thing indeed. Her ancestral blood is no doubt the reason why. I hear whispers from the other side it was a gift to her mother.” He looked past me into the alleyway beyond. “Won’t you come out and greet an old man, girl?”
Ro started and shot Papa Obe a frustrated look. He jumped down off the porch and shuffled along to the alleyway, disappearing into the shadows. He and Lex had a short heated conversation before he appeared again, her pale hand in his dark one. Her head was tucked into her chest, long hair covering her face, and her movement wooden. I frowned. Usually she moved so gracefully, but now it was like she had planks of wood for limbs.
She reached my side and breathed out, sent me a dagger like look under her colorless lashes.
I leaned closer and from the corner of my mouth whispered, “S’up with you?”
“She’ll find it hard around me,” Papa Obe an
swered. “You did not bind her to you leaving her open to the influence of others.” He tutted. “Dangerous.”
I looked at Lex, took in her submissive posture and terrified expression. “You won’t do anything to her will you?” Feeling less and less happy about the nefarious expression flickering across his face I stepped in front of Lex protectively. “Let’s be clear from the beginning, it’s not okay for you to control her do you understand?”
The sinister look that had warred over his face was swept away by sheer delight. He laughed boomingly. “It’s not me you must fear girl, but her. And them nasty witches. They could mess with your girl’s mind until she loses it.” He tapped his temple. “Twist her into something evil, you hear me?”
The thought of a witch using Lex for evil left me cold. My friend was in danger yet again because of my mistakes. It was bad enough I had to live with what I had done to her, that she had died simply for knowing me, but still my bad choices came back to haunt her. She had to live as a monster and now must face the fear of one day being controlled by others.
I inhaled sharply. I would not let that happen.
“Then show me show to protect her,” I said fiercely. “Teach me how to use magics like you do.”
He shook his head. “Too late, nothing you can do. She must guard herself.”
I pulled my brows together and ran my top teeth over my bottom lip, considering what he was saying. “She is the last of her kind, a Mambo,” I muttered.
“And a zombie,” Ro added thoughtfully.
Papa Obe nodded. “She has the power, but I cannot teach her how to use it. I am a Houngan. The male does not teach the female.” He motioned to himself then her and sighed. “Look how I run my mouth. All this talk yet we avoid that which be most important. Why you come here, Priestess? What you want from me?”
I wanted exactly squat from this man. I looked to Ro since it was his idea.
He straightened and lopped his thumbs into his jean pockets. “I tell you I need help. We need help.” He jerked his head at me. “A hideaway until her man and brother come get her.”
The Houngan laughed throatily. “You choose to come here instead of hide up inside Temple. Them Clerics figure out you are the Bokor they hunted all these years?”
Ro’s lips twisted. “They know enough now.”
“You come to me with the lost fairy Priestess, her vampire lover and the dead daughter of Mama Odette?” His eyebrows rose. “You think I should let you in my home.”
Ro pouted. “Had little choice, Papa.”
“I know. I hear and see many things, boy.” He stepped back and pointed through the door, into the darkness of his shack.
Tomas stepped forward.
“Stop!” Papa Obe’s voice boomed. His hair lifted, crackling with electricity, and magic slid over my skin making my shiver. “You may not step here, vampire.” His eyes rolled into the back of his head leaving white orbs with fine red webs of veins at the edges. “Something about you stinks of witchcraft.”
An unexpected glint of steel appeared in Tomas’ eye. “Calm yourself, Houngan.”
Papa Obe’s eyes rolled forward and his milky gaze switched to me. “I want to help, but you must understand that I cannot let him enter. I sense witches’ darkness.”
“Why,” I asked, truly at a loss. “Tomas won’t hurt you, I swear it.”
“Your word is your oath, but his is not.” Papa Obe’s head dipped down to peer at us from under his thick and short lashes. “Vampires are tricky, selfish things.” He jerked his chin toward Tomas. “He cannot enter.”
“He won’t harm you,” I said.
“No dead one can harm a servant of those who have power over life itself, child. The Loa keep me safe from their kind.”
Tomas squared up to the man. “I’m here to help Rae. It is as simple as that.”
“It’s never that simple when it comes to your kind,” Papa Obe replied evenly.
This was ridiculous. It seemed every demon had issues with any not of their kind and it was beginning to frustrate me. “Enough,” I huffed, and placed my hand on Tomas’ chest to firmly push him back a step. “We need to get off the street. Ro brought us here because he thought we could trust you and that you could help. I want to stay, but I won’t if I have to worry about Tomas roaming around out here.”
The Houngan said nothing. He lowered his chin, expression dark, and slinked out of the way.
Tomas nodded once and moved passed him. His shoulders relaxed and he sent the older man an impatient look. “I told you I mean you no harm.”
“And there was no harm in being sure,” he replied. Confused, I looked between them. “No one that means me ill can enter,” Obe explained and waved me forward.
Magic hung in the air. It was like a constant itch between the shoulder blades you could not scratch because although you could use your arms you did not have a particular type of hand to scratch that particular itch.
The air smelt herby. Sniffing, I followed my nose and nodded in satisfaction at the fresh and dried herbs stuffed into a weave basket hanging from the ceiling. The wood floor was covered in soft, dark sand. The grains were rough against the soles of my feet, and oddly warm.
Ro tapped my shoulder and handed me a pair of boots, dark trousers, and a sleeveless muslin tunic. Nodding my thanks, I ducked behind a woven screen in the corner and quickly got dressed. The clothes fit fine, better than Tomas’ shirt, but the footwear made me unexpectedly tearful. The boots Alec had gotten me were quite lovely and these could not compare. Walking back out I tugged at the tunic to get it to fall properly around my wings and handed Tomas back his top. I couldn’t keep my glamour on any longer, I felt too constricted and weak.
The shack was one of the larger I had seen in the slums and one of the best kept. Not that it meant much when it came to the slums. Tattered, yet colorful tapestries covered every available space, and were pinned onto the walls. Every flat surface or shelf was crammed with dirty glass jars and bottles cloudy with age. I leaned over to stare into the murky gray water of an open topped jug and recoiled when I realized the white bulbous things floating were eyeballs. On closer inspection, all the pots held some kind of body part or other and I began to feel faint.
Tomas looked repulsed and stood stiff as a pillar in the centre of the room, hands tight by his sides.
There were aged wooden faces, masks, tacked onto the ceiling with gaping mouths and narrowed eyes, faces condemning us from above. Their eyebrows and beards were painted in garish colors. Clumps of straw lashed together with twine sprouted out the rounded heads in an imitation of hair. Shuddering, I tore my eyes away from them, freaked out. Threadbare blankets and pillows were piled in a corner. A low table placed beside them with abandoned dirty cups and plates had me assuming that was where he slept and ate.
My eyes settled on the far wall. I stepped forward, my mouth parting in wonder at the beauty of it. With another step, I caught an odd vibration and stopped dead in my tracks even before Tomas reached for me. He clasped my tail and yanked it once forcing me to stumble back. He wrapped his arm around my shoulders, and there was nothing romantic about the gesture, it was born of fear.
A wide drum was by my side, its rim in decorated in interesting runes. Unable to help myself I slapped my palm onto the taut surface. The sound boomed and echoed in the tiny shack. My hand stilled before it beat the dried skin again. I retracted it slowly feeling rather than hearing Tomas’ snarl, and rubbed my now sweaty palm on my thigh.
“The Tamboulas won’t hurt you,” Ro said after a pause and leaned round me to thump it again. The sound seemed different. It still echoed, but was less powerful. Crestfallen, he shrugged his big shoulders and knelt in front of the colorful wall.
“Ro will be a fine Houngan one day.” Papa Obe wagged his stick of bleached bone at him, voice accusatory in tone. “He would be already if he came home more often.”
The shrine that covered the entire back wall captured my attention again though I made no m
ove toward it this time. My nature did not like the feel of it. No matter how pleasing it was to my eye.
“What is that?” I asked quietly feeling that shouting would somehow desecrate the sanctity of it.
“The Hounfour, my place of worship. I miss the old days, when we had whole temples dedicated to veneration of Bondaye, the Creator. We honored the gods in style.” Papa Obe sighed and paused whatever he was drawing on the floor. “But in times like these we do what we can to commune with the spirits. I pray they understand and forgive us.” He bowed his head then went back to his task of scratching a pattern on the floor with his rough piece of chalk.
Lex and Ro seemed to take comfort from bending down by the Hounfour to help him. Well, it gave me the creeps so I steered clear of it, as did Tomas.
Papa Obe chucked the chalk into the corner and dusted his hands off. He plucked one of the bulging bags hanging from his neck and handed it to me with a flourish.
I bounced it in my palm. It was weighty for something so small. “What’s this?” I asked curiously.
“My blood, chicken bone, cat spit, a shifter claw, and twice burnt wood.”
Horror-struck, I tried to hand it back to him. “Ta, but I don’t think I need this.”
He smiled showing pink gums and missing teeth. “I want it back. You need to hold it for the blessing, Priestess.”
I attempted a grateful smile, but considering the sly chuckle from Ro I don’t think I pulled it off.
Lex stood to one side of the shrine her head flung back, and Papa Obe motioned Ro to stand behind me.
Tomas needed no prompting to let me go and slide out the way. He plastered himself to the wall and glowered at Papa Obe. I did not like seeing him so uncomfortable but letting him roam outside so moody was not the best idea.
The Vodoun surrounded me and I felt a dart of apprehension. “Uh, what are you going to do?”
Papa Obe grinned and my skin crawled. “We’re going to ask the Loa to watch over you.”
Demon Day Page 19
