by Eli Easton
Daniel leaned forward to stare at his chest, and although there was nothing sexual in Daniel’s interest, Bram’s heartbeat felt a little unsteady and his cock hardened uncomfortably against his jeans. Jesus. It had been far too long since he’d gotten laid—since he’d been so much as touched by another man.
“What did this man look like?” Daniel asked, still focused on Bram’s sternum.
“Thin. Dark. Sort of… ageless, I guess.”
“And what did he wear?”
This was, without a doubt, the strangest conversation Bram had ever had. Possibly the strangest conversation ever exchanged inside a Chili’s. “A black coat and feathers. Makeup.”
“Ghede Nibo.” Daniel murmured the words quietly, almost reverently.
“What?”
After a long pause, Daniel looked up into Bram’s eyes. “He is a lwa. You remember I told you about them?”
“Intermediary spirits,” Bram answered promptly.
That earned him a bright smile. “You do learn a lesson quickly, Dr. Tillman. Yes. The ghede in particular concern themselves with death. And with sex.”
Bram remembered what the man in the dream had told him. “All part of the dance,” he repeated.
“Yes! Exactly!” Daniel ate a celebratory nacho, and Bram had one too. He was hungry. Then he buttoned up his shirt.
“You see,” Daniel said after he’d swallowed, “Ghede Nibo is very powerful. He’s a very good lwa to have on your side.”
Of course, Bram still didn’t believe a word of this. Except…. Daniel was obviously sincere. And the burns, the brushes with death, those were all objectively real. “Why would this Nibo guy give a shit about me? I’m a white guy!” He winced at his words, half expecting Daniel to toss his iced tea in Bram’s face.
But Daniel only raised his finely sculpted eyebrows. “Three of my grandparents were white too.”
“I… I didn’t mean….” Bram rubbed his face. “I’m sorry. I only meant that I’m not into vodou and I’ve never met anyone before who was. So why would a vodou spirit have anything to do with me?”
“I don’t know. It’s unusual that he’d speak to you like that. But he does tend to take an interest in young men threatened with untimely death.” His crooked smile reappeared. “And he has an eye for handsome men too.”
Bram blinked at Daniel for a moment before looking down at the table, pretending to busy himself with more cheesy chips. “He said it wasn’t my time yet to die.”
After a thoughtful nod, Daniel took a long sip of his tea. “So then the question is who’s trying to kill you.”
“But… I don’t get it. Your brother tried to kill me. And the guy who rammed into me, and the lady in the red car today. It’s beginning to feel like everyone wants me dead, and I don’t understand why. Is it some weird Mob thing? Is someone paying these people to… to off me?” That was a ridiculous notion, of course, but then so was the idea that he had an invisible target painted on him.
Two tables away, a small child screeched, distracting them both. When Bram turned back, Daniel was frowning. “Let me tell you about Darius,” Daniel said softly.
Even though his questions remained unanswered, Bram nodded. “All right.”
“He was… he was my baby brother. I was seven years older, and he always looked up to me, always wanted to do whatever I did. And even though he was nearly twenty-three, he hadn’t yet outgrown that.”
Automatically, Bram did the calculation in his head. Daniel must be thirty, or close to it. Bram wouldn’t have guessed that. Or maybe he would have, if he’d looked carefully, because there was a certain… solidity to Daniel’s eyes that spoke of more age and experience than kids usually possessed.
“Our mama was a manbo,” Daniel said. “A priestess. When I was younger, I was too busy to bother much with vodou. And too stupid. But a few years ago, not long before Mama died, I had some dreams… I became ounsi. An initiate.”
“What does that mean?”
Daniel was silent a moment, his gaze assessing. Maybe he saw whatever he was looking for in Bram’s face, because he nodded once. “It means I bound myself to my lwa. We became partners of a sort. When there is a ceremony, sometimes she rides me.”
Momentarily, Bram pictured Daniel fucking a beautiful woman—and he was shocked and ashamed by a sharp pang of jealousy. “Ride?”
“It’s… like possession. She takes over my body for a while.”
“I’d hate that,” said Bram, who detested losing control.
“It’s not a bad thing. I remain present when she rides me, but she’s momentarily in charge. I trust her. And in return, she protects me and gives me her counsel.” He grinned. “And she knows how to have fun, my Ezili Freda.” But then his expression turned serious again and he added, “It was Freda who told me what happened with Darius, and who sent me to warn you.”
The waitress appeared just as Bram was about to ask another question. “Can I get you guys refills? Something else to eat?” Daniel handed her his nearly empty tea glass, but Bram just shook his head. He was nursing a beer.
“What happened with Darius?” Bram asked as soon as she was gone.
“He was jealous of me, I think. Of Freda. He’d been trying for some time, but none of the lwa had come to him. I kept telling him to wait, but he was never patient.” Daniel sighed loudly. “He decided to hurry things along.”
“How?” Bram felt as though he was playing twenty questions. He didn’t mind, though. He liked being in Daniel’s company. Since Jim died, Bram had barely conversed with anyone outside of work, and certainly nobody as attractive as his current companion.
“My brother began to visit graveyards at night. It’s not advisable. The ghede walk then, and they will try to escape the burial grounds in the bodies of the living.”
“The ghede. Like Nibo?”
“Exactly! But although I wouldn’t mind being Nibo’s horse, I—”
“Horse?”
Daniel gave a small, elegant shrug. “That’s what a person is called when a lwa rides him.”
“Oh.” Giddyup.
“It’s just a word, Bram,” said Daniel, probably sensing Bram’s unease. “And Ghede Nibo, he’s powerful but not unkind. Some other ghedes are more dangerous. Some of them scare the hell out of me. But Darius wanted a lwa to ride him.”
The nachos had almost disappeared. Bram ate two more chips and pushed the plate toward Daniel, who finished off the rest. “Should we order some more?” Daniel asked, smiling.
“Sure. Why not.” The waitress appeared just then with Daniel’s tea, and she was happy to take their order. Bram wondered how much longer Daniel was going to last without a bathroom break. He was drinking a lot of liquid.
Daniel laughed softly as he poured sugar into his glass. “I’m usually better about watching what I eat. But I guess I can live it up a little. It’s the weekend.”
Bram glanced guiltily around their table at the other customers, all of whom seemed to be having a fun evening out. “I’m sorry if I ruined your plans for tonight,” he said to Daniel.
“My plan for tonight was to turn on my air conditioner full blast and read a book that takes place somewhere really cold. Siberia. Antarctica maybe. You didn’t ruin anything. I’m enjoying the company, actually.” He locked his gaze with Bram’s for a moment before looking slightly away.
“Oh,” said Bram. He’d heard of drowning in someone’s eyes but thought the idea was bullshit. Now he wasn’t so sure. “I’m, uh, glad.” And then, because he was more comfortable talking about vodou spirits than flirting, he returned to the previous conversation. “So your brother was hanging out in cemeteries.”
“He was. But… I’m sorry. I’m going to have to explain a little more to you. You don’t mind?”
“No. Go ahead.”
“Everyone has two souls. When we die, one of them—the ti bon anj—returns to the Creator. But the gwo bon anj might remain here, to wander. Sometimes the gwo bon anj might watch over the fa
mily, especially if it’s captured and kept in a spirit pot. But sometimes if the gwo bon anj isn’t captured, it can cause trouble. It can ride men too, as a lwa does. It might be angry about being dead. Or just confused.” He stirred his tea for a few seconds before looking up again. “Freda told me that a gwo bon anj was riding my brother, and that is why he tried to kill you.”
Bram had struggled a little in following the story with all its unfamiliar words. “So… some dead guy was angry at me and possessed Darius?”
“Yes. And after Darius died”—Daniel winced slightly but went on—“after Darius died, the gwo bon anj rode someone else. The man who crashed his car into you. And then the woman today.”
They were both silent for several minutes while Bram thought about this. He couldn’t possibly believe in all this nonsense—yet he remembered clearly the identical expressions on all three assailants, and he could still feel the tightness of the burns under his shirt.
The waitress brought their second order of nachos before scurrying away.
“If this is true,” Bram said slowly, “then I’m screwed. I’ve been lucky so far, but eventually this ghost is going to get me.”
“They can be very stubborn,” Daniel replied sadly.
“Well… fuck.”
“You’re not defenseless, you know. Ghede Nibo offered to help. I’ll help too.”
A silly warmth bloomed in Bram’s chest. “Why do you care? Because your lwa told you to?”
Daniel shook his head. “I don’t do everything she tells me to. She’s very demanding. If she had her way, I’d wear pink and white dresses all the time and practically bathe in fancy perfume.”
“Dresses?”
“I don’t really enjoy cross-dressing, so I put my foot down on that one.” He reached across the table and covered Bram’s hand with his own. “I’ll help because I want to.”
Bram’s throat was suddenly very dry. He didn’t remove himself from Daniel’s grasp, but with his free hand, he lifted his glass and took a big swallow of beer. He made a face when he tasted it, though. He wished he’d ordered something else. Rum.
“So how have I pissed off a dead guy so badly that he wants to kill me?”
Daniel squeezed Bram’s hand before grabbing a nacho. It crunched loudly as he bit it. He chewed thoughtfully and swallowed. “I don’t know. But I know how we can find out.”
Chapter Four
THE WEATHER wasn’t exactly chilly the following day, but it was a little cooler. Bram celebrated with a Saturday midmorning jog. He flinched every time a car drove past, but hell if he was going to stay housebound due to the possibility of a homicidal phantom. Besides, if this spirit was really that eager to get rid of him, surely it could find ways that didn’t involve grocery stores or vehicles. It could firebomb his house when he was asleep or poison his water. It could possess someone with a gun and do a drive-by. So he went for a run. At least if the spirit continued to come after him, Bram would be in shape.
Besides, he needed to clear his head, and hard exercise was a good way to achieve that. Bram and Jim used to like those real estate shows where couples had to choose between three houses, each with different pros and cons. There was never a perfect home, and the couples always said the same thing after they saw their third option: “We have a lot to think about.” Well, today Bram had a lot to think about.
The previous night he and Daniel hadn’t really discussed vodou over their second plate of nachos. Daniel had outlined a plan and urged Bram to consider it. And then he’d steered the subject away entirely, asking Bram about his job, his family, his taste in music. They’d sat there for a long time, and the experience had ended up feeling oddly like a first date. Now Bram even had that whole fluttery pulse thing going when he thought about Daniel. It had been years since he’d felt like that. And he kept telling himself to cool it; this wasn’t about romance, after all. But Daniel had found little excuses to touch Bram’s hand, and he leaned forward over the table as if he were really interested in Bram’s boring life.
Daniel told a little bit about himself too. He was a social worker who specialized in helping LGBT teens and young adults. He worried a lot about the kids and put in long hours, which made a social life difficult. But he loved his job, loved making a difference in people’s lives. During his time off, he liked to read, garden, and do small home improvement projects. He was, Bram thought, smart and earnest and, when he wasn’t counseling people or discussing vodou, a little bit shy.
Someone’s lawn sprinklers jetted against Bram’s legs as he ran by, which felt good. A lot of children were out this morning, riding bikes and playing ball while grown-ups washed cars or mowed the grass. Bram turned a corner and passed an elementary school. The building was closed for the summer, but kids played soccer and frolicked on the playground swings. Everything appeared as normal and ordinary as it could possibly be.
It was strange, then, how believable Daniel’s tales of lwas and double souls still seemed. Maybe if Daniel weren’t so attractive, Bram would have laughed him off. But Daniel was attractive—like a rare-earth magnet—and Bram found himself believing every word.
The farther Bram jogged, the more it seemed as if everything in his neighborhood was simply a thin veneer of normalcy overlaying something darker, stranger. That lady walking her golden retriever and those girls doing cartwheels on their front lawn—they were no more real than Disneyland animatronics. And the sunshine was far too bright.
Tears streamed from his eyes. His lungs burned, and his muscles screamed. He wasn’t jogging anymore—he was sprinting as if Death were hot on his heels. His heart rate was much too fast. You’re going to die, said a voice in his head. But everyone does, eventually. Why hurry things along?
He arrived back home just short of total collapse. In fact, once he was inside, he did collapse, crashing face-first onto the couch so hard that he nearly toppled it backward. He tried to roll over to ease his breathing but couldn’t muster the strength. Finally, though, he managed to draw in enough oxygen so he could truly relax. Still sticky with sweat, he fell asleep.
GHEDE NIBO clicked his tongue. “You are very strange, mon cher.”
Bram blinked at him. Ghede Nibo wore a black duster, a purple-and-gold feather boa, and a coordinating hat with a long black feather. His lipstick was crimson, as were his long fingernails.
“All right,” said Bram, who concluded that pointing out a death spirit’s own oddness was probably not a good idea.
They were back in the mausoleum, which smelled of fish and coconut. But maybe Ghede Nibo had been decorating, because sparkly streamers hung from the ceiling, and the walls had been painted with colorful murals. Off in one corner, a black rooster scratched at the floor. Bram sat cross-legged in the center of the room, wearing his smelly running clothes.
Ghede Nibo sat opposite him. Bram tensed a little over the walking stick, but Ghede Nibo simply set the cane across his skinny legs. “Why do you run, Abraham?” He gave the name its French pronunciation.
“Exercise.”
“Exercise!” Ghede Nibo crowed with laughter. “You work in your garden—this is exercise. Or you lift stones to build a house. Then you will be strong and you will eat well and be safe from cold and rain. Your running, it serves no purpose.”
He had a point. But Bram shook his head. “My house is built already, and I don’t have a garden.”
Ghede Nibo’s smiled toothily. “Ah, but your ami Daniel, he has a fine garden indeed. A garden in need of plowing.” He laughed again and thrust upward with his hips a few times.
“Uh, okay,” said Bram, blushing furiously. He wasn’t sure he’d ever blushed in a dream. “Look, could you just tell me who’s trying to kill me? And how I can stop them.”
“Tsk tsk. You cannot simply demand things. We must have a partnership, yes?”
“What do you want?”
The spirit didn’t answer immediately. Instead he regarded Bram with an amused sparkle in his obsidian eyes. Then he leaned fo
rward and traced a single red-tipped finger down the center of Bram’s chest—right down the middle of the burn marks, which tingled—down Bram’s stomach, and to his nylon-covered crotch. Bram tried to move away, but the only mobile part of his body turned out to be his cock, which perked up immediately, tenting his shorts and making Ghede Nibo laugh.
“This is what I wish to see,” Nibo said, stroking lightly. “A boy who is big and eager.”
Bram made a strangled noise. If the touch continued much longer, he was going to come. He hadn’t had a wet dream since he was a teenager, and none of them were ever this weird.
But after crooning something in Creole, Ghede Nibo drew his hand back. Bram moaned his disappointment.
“Talk to your friend Daniel,” said Ghede Nibo. “He will know how you may please me.”
“You can’t just tell me yourself?”
“What would be the pleasure in that?” responded the spirit with a grin. Then he leaned forward and touched Bram’s dick again, just a soft caress with a single fingertip.
Bram shuddered and bit his lip hard enough to draw blood. “Please…,” he moaned—
—and woke up on his couch, salty with dried sweat and aching with need.
He rolled onto his back, shoved his hand down his shorts, and with three firm strokes, came hard enough to see stars.
BRAM DIDN’T call Daniel that day. He spent the afternoon puttering around the house, doing a dozen small chores. It was weird how a life could be turned completely upside-down, and yet the garbage still needed to be emptied and the laundry done. He’d slept through lunch, but he made himself a big omelet for dinner with some steamed veggies on the side, and then he settled on the couch with a spy novel and the last Corona. He went to bed early and didn’t dream.
On Sunday he felt restless. He didn’t go running, though. It was the first day in months that he’d skipped it. He did a few errands, braving the mall for new pants and the grocery store to restock his fridge. But after he put his purchases away, he couldn’t settle. He tried, but he felt as if something—or someone—might appear from another room at any moment. He’d experienced that frequently in the weeks after his lover’s death, as if Jim might pop into the living room, laughing over the huge joke he’d played. Jim wasn’t really a prankster, though, and he never did show up.
