“Oh. Yeah. Righteous.”
“Did you say righteous?”
“Totally.”
“All right, Bill S. Preston, Esquire,” I said, referring to the Bill of Bill & Ted’s Excellent Adventure.
“No way. I’m totally Ted Theodore Logan!”
I chuckled. “And we are…”
“THE WYLD STALLYNS!” we declared in unison.
“I loved those movies,” Chad said.
“I figured as much. Bill and Ted are like your spirit brothers.”
“Hey, thanks!”
“Don’t mention it,” I said, smirking. It wasn’t meant to be a compliment. But if he was going to take it as one, it was no skin off my hide.
“Beli,” I said. “So now we’re in the void. What do we do now?”
“I figured you’d know…”
Legba’s host… his remains…
“Makes sense. Marie said he’d help guide us,” I said. I loosened the drawstring on the burlap sack and retrieved the head. “Now how do we make this thing work?”
“Who you calling a thing?” Legba’s shrunken head said.
I was so spooked I almost dropped it into the void.
“What the…”
“Long time no see, Miss Mulledy.”
Chad was speechless—which wasn’t a bad thing.
“Is it really you? Papa Legba?”
“Of course it is. Don’t I look like myself?”
I bit my tongue. I mean, he did—sort of. If he’d been born a Legba-shaped grape and became a raisin. “But is it actually you, or are you just… I don’t know… speaking through this head?”
“Doesn’t everyone speak through their head?”
“He’s got you there!” Chad interjected.
I elbowed him in the gut again. I know you aren’t supposed to beat animals in order to discipline them or teach them tricks. The rules are different when it comes to grown-ass men. Not like there was much point disciplining him in this instance—he wasn’t long for this… void.
“I thought you were separate from this old host. Just figured something about its familiarity with you was why Marie Laveau said it would help us find you. She didn’t say it would become you.”
“But it isn’t me. Not completely. Still, one can never be totally separated from the body, not in this life. The soul still likes to find its home in a body… one way or another. You brought the parts of a body my being once inhabited, and my soul—if you can call what we Loa have a soul—could not resist taking up residence inside. At least for a time.”
“But this body… it’s dead!”
“There is no death in the void, Miss Mulledy.”
“There isn’t life, either, it seems. At least not much of it.”
“But life is all around us, is it not? What is life if not the breath of the All-father, of Bondye, of the One? And what is God if not life itself?”
“I don’t know, to be honest. Your questions… I mean, I know they’re supposed to be rhetorical.”
“You are wise not to know. When it comes to matters of the Almighty, we’d all do better to declare that we do not know than to presume that we do.”
“My head is hurting right now.”
“That’s because you humans are accustomed to thinking too much. When you stop thinking, trying to figure everything out, it can be painful. It means admitting one’s powerlessness.”
I nodded. “Well, I really do look forward to more sage wisdom and advice, Papa Legba. But since you fell, Kalfu has consolidated more power, and he threatens to gain even more as we speak. He still hopes to steal Isabelle.”
“I would nod back at you if I had a neck. And this fellow you bring with you…”
“His name is Chad. Marie Laveau chose him to become your new host.”
“Him?” Legba asked. “She couldn’t do any better?”
“Hey!” Chad protested. “Not cool. I’m giving my body to you. Show some respect.”
I snickered. “Beggars can’t be choosers—that’s what Marie said.”
Legba laughed—which I must admit sounded awfully odd coming from a severed, shrunken head. “Sounds like something she’d say. Chad, I only jest. I am eternally grateful for your sacrifice. However, if I’m going to return in human form—if any of us will return—we must seek the blessing of Bondye.”
“And where do we find him? I don’t see anything here but blackness.”
“Who’s to say that God isn’t black?”
I cocked my head. “God is black?”
“Why not? He is black, white, and every color imaginable. He is today and yesterday, all times and places.”
“And he could be she, too, you know.”
“Indeed, Miss Mulledy. All things have their genesis in the All-father, in Bondye, so he is also in all things.”
“They why do even you refer to the All-father as father, not mother. As he, not she?”
“Blame the patriarchy,” Legba said.
I grinned a little. “I’ll do that.”
“Simply speak, Miss Mulledy. Let your request be made known.”
I turned over my shoulder. “You ready for this, Chad? I don’t know if Bondye will respond, or how quickly this will happen. But before I ask, you should be ready.”
Chapter Thirteen
It felt silly—but no sillier than praying usually did. With Chad’s consent, even as he gripped my hand and trembled in anxiety—I suppose it’s only natural to be a bit edgy when a demigod is about to take over your body and you’re going to move on into the life beyond—I spoke into the void. “God, if you’re out there. I mean, I know you’re out there. So I’m asking you, please, allow Legba to return to us. May he dwell within this vessel, the vessel of Chad, that he might help us defeat Kalfu, a foe of all that is good and right and true.”
I cringed a little at the cheesiness of the phrase “vessel of Chad” as soon as I’d said it. But the change was instant. There was no to-do. Having Samedi’s essence, I could see Chad’s ghost leave his body… floating off as he air-guitared his way into the void.
“So long, Chad,” I said. Yeah, Chad was a douche. But he also gave what little life he had left for this cause—and I had to honor that.
“Very good, Miss Mulledy,” Papa Legba said, now from within Chad’s body. I looked down at the shrunken head, and just as I was about to put it back into the burlap sack, I heard Legba’s voice again. “Hey, don’t put me in there just yet!”
Did that just happen? Isabelle asked.
“Legba, did you…”
“Yes,” the Legba in Chad and the Legba in the shrunken head said in concert. “As I said before, a spirit never leaves a body it has dwelled within entirely, not so long as that body has life.”
“All right,” I said, laughing nervously. “This is really freaky.”
“Don’t forget to say thank you,” Legba said, still speaking in concert from both of his… vessels.
“Thank you for what?”
“To the Almighty. We still need him if we’re going to get out of here.”
I nodded. I should have known better. “Hey, God. Thanks for that!”
“No problem,” a deep voice echoed through the void. It sent shivers down my spine.
Did that just happen? Isabelle asked.
“Uh-huh…”
Why don’t you ask him to help us get home?
“Hey, God—I mean, that’s what you want me to call you, right? Is there a name you prefer?”
“I am what I am,” God replied. Of course he did… I should have known.
Before I could even speak, a glow began to surround us—me, Legba, Beli, all of us—as if “I Am” knew what I was going to ask for before I even opened my mouth. I felt Beli’s lungs expand as he absorbed the divine energies that enveloped us. With an exhale, Beli released a giant breath and formed a gate in the void—this time, sparkling with golden energies. This was not the magic Beli typically wielded, nor what Isabelle had through the Tree of Life.
This was a magic that only the Divine One could wield.
“I will be with you always,” God spoke, in an echoed tone, as Beli flapped his wings and we dove headlong into the gate.
We crashed into the floor at the base of the altar that Marie Laveau had made.
“Welcome back, dear,” Marie said. “And welcome home, Papa Legba.”
I turned to Marie Laveau. To her we’d only been gone moments, but it still looked like she’d aged even in the seconds she’d experienced.
“My goodness, child,” Marie Laveau said. “Your face!”
I scrunched by brow. “My face?”
“There’s a mirror on the altar, dear.”
I grabbed it and was taken aback. My whole face shone like the sun—it was so bright that the glow reflected off the mirror and nearly blinded me.
“You’ve spoken to Bondye!” Marie Laveau declared.
“Yeah…” I said, my voice still trembling from the experience.
“Carry the light with you,” Marie said. “With the darkness that is coming, you will need it.”
I wasn’t sure what she meant. How did I carry this light with me? It was more like a state of being. I didn’t even feel anything—but the glow coming off my face was undeniable. In even just a few moments, though, the brightness began to fade.
“Carry it in your heart, dear.”
I nodded. “I can do that. I think.”
“Now that you are here, we must make the binding permanent. We must ensure that Legba remains at home in his new host and that you, as the new Voodoo queen, have your life bound with his.”
“When this ritual is done, will you die right away?”
“I cannot say for sure, dear. Though I know my time is short, no matter. It is time.”
“I am ready, too,” Legba said… but it wasn’t Legba in Chad, it was the shrunken head version of the Loa.
“Well, that’s curious,” Marie said. “Though since my life is tied to Legba’s in that host, perhaps my life keeps it alive in some small way.”
“Perhaps,” Legba said, responding in both forms, again in concert. “Though even I thought this was a temporary thing… something unique to the void.”
“Well, I guess it isn’t,” I said. “Looks like I have a portable Legba—at least for now.”
“Possibly so,” Marie said. “Though let us proceed with the binding and your coronation. It may eliminate this particular peculiarity.”
I nodded. “Is it weird that I’m nervous? I mean, I just saw Chad give up his life, and I feel almost as anxious as he was.”
“I remember when I first became the Voodoo Queen of New Orleans,” Marie Laveau said. “I never believed I’d be accepted. But soon the whole Voodoo world was coming to me. For answers. For advice. For help with their problems. Even healings. And I found that I was uniquely equipped each time to do what needed to be done. You shall be, too, Annabelle. I wouldn’t have chosen you otherwise.”
I took a deep breath. “Well, with me you know you get Isabelle, too.”
“Of course,” Marie said, smiling wide. “I look at it as a BOGO deal.”
“Buy one, get one?” I chuckled as I said it. “Didn’t realize I was a bargain queen!”
“We’re all bargain queens when there’s a good sale, am I right?”
“Queen Laveau,” I said. “You’re my kind of people.”
Marie Laveau smiled widely—she’d aged rapidly, but there was still a beauty there. You could see it in her eyes. Those were eyes that looked not at the world with doe-like innocence. The beauty in her eyes was the sort that only comes when you’ve seen the worst of everything, probably the best of it too, but weren’t changed by it. She was a woman who had lived her life in service—grossly misunderstood by outsiders, but beloved by the Voodoo world.
Marie Laveau set several candles across the alter she’d constructed to honor Legba and dressed each of them with special oils. Each candle received its own concoction, a combination of various oils meant to produce unique effects when properly combined. I might be the High Mambo—and soon the Voodoo queen—but it became clear that no matter my “rank,” I was going to have to learn a lot more.
Marie chanted something in Creole. I’m not especially fluent in Creole. I’d grown up around it enough to pick up bits and pieces. Another deficiency that I’d have to overcome. Suddenly I felt overwhelmed. Not by the creole. Not by the fact that I had no clue what Marie was doing with the altar. But by everything… I wasn’t half the Mambo that Marie Laveau had been. She’d probably forgotten more about Voodoo in her multiple life-spans than I’d ever learned.
We’ve got this, you know. Isabelle could sense my trepidation—sweaty palms, rapid heart rate, fiddling with my fingernails. She knew the signs.
I coughed twice over my shoulder, not because I was trying to be secretive about Isabelle—everyone here knew about her—but to acknowledge her comment without interrupting what Marie Laveau was doing.
“A drop of blood, dear.”
I bit my lip. I hated finger pricks. Wouldn’t be the first time I’d had to bleed in the context of practicing Voodoo. The soul is in the blood… Oggie had taught me that. It wasn’t just Voodoo that believed it. It was in the book of Leviticus.
Marie mixed my blood with what I assumed was a carrier oil—though other oils might have been mixed with it. Legba in his new host also extended his hand. He didn’t even flinch when Marie pricked his finger. His blood mixed with mine in the oil. After a few more words chanted in Creole, Marie dipped her thumb into the blood-and-oil mixture and spread it across my brow. She did the same to Legba. He and I exchanged glances. I’m not sure how I knew to do it, but I locked eyes with him.
“Receive my aspect,” Legba said, “as my life in this host is now bound to yours.”
I gasped, but not because acquiring an aspect gave me any particular sensation. It was a pretty bland experience, truth be told, and this was the fourth time I’d experienced it. Still, I knew the changes, the results, would manifest in time.
“I now declare you, Annabelle Mulledy, the Voodoo Queen of New Orleans.”
I nodded as Marie Laveau reached behind the altar and retrieved a massive headdress. It consisted mostly of black feathers and dried flowers. A miniature skull was affixed at the band, in the middle of where my forehead would be once I wore it.
Surely that’s not a real cranium, Isabelle said. Far too small… Dear God, please say it isn’t…
I shrugged. In truth, I didn’t know. As I examined it more closely, though, it looked like it had been carved—probably from a much larger bone, maybe not even human at all. I was relieved to discover that. A skull that size could only belong to an infant—not something I was even remotely comfortable wearing as jewelry. Wearing a necklace with Legba’s former hand and rib bones was eerie enough.
I lowered my head, and Marie Laveau placed the headdress on me. “I hereby pass the blessing of the queen to you, Annabelle Mulledy.”
I bit my lip. I didn’t feel any different. Felt a little awkward if nothing else. But it was done. I was officially the Voodoo queen. The real challenge would be convincing the surviving Voodoo world of it. If there was one thing I knew, it was that I couldn’t expect them to just follow me because of a title and a headdress. Titles don’t make leaders. Action does.
Chapter Fourteen
Marie Laveau stayed in the head shop—well, the place that had served as a cover for her queenly abode. She said it was home to her, where she was the most comfortable. She didn’t have much time left, and she didn’t want to make an appearance—she’d rather die peacefully with the Voodoo world remembering her as she was. Perpetually youthful, beautiful, and most of all, strong.
Headdress still on my head and wearing all the other Voodoo accoutrements I’d gained since I first arrived there—including the shrunken head, which, strangely enough, still managed to speak for Legba even as he was sealed and bound to his new host—I had to confess it was oddly comforting to hav
e. Not that carrying around a shrunken head was going to do much in terms of winning friends and influencing people—a task I had to embrace as the new Voodoo queen—but because Legba had spent decades, maybe even centuries, with Kalfu also bound within his same body. For the greater part of that time, Legba had dominated the demon-like Loa. While that didn’t last forever, he would know better than anyone what Kalfu might be thinking, what his weaknesses could be, and how we might defeat him. He was an insider of sorts, in the know. And Oggie had always said, in a time of war, intelligence about the enemy is more valuable than any weapon. Still, apologizing to Legba in advance, I returned the shrunken head to its burlap sack. Aside from the stares I’d receive—even in the French Quarter, where this head shop was apparently located—the local authorities don’t generally look too kindly on the display of human remains in public.
The French Quarter was abuzz with chatter, the sound of jazz players on almost every corner, at least one guy playing a makeshift drum set made from five-gallon paint buckets, and the general happenings of the night.
The whole world seemed oblivious to the war that was brewing—to the fact that a demon Loa was raising an army of Bokor sorcerers, to the expanded clan of vampires, and even to the significance of my presence as the new Voodoo queen. Most of these people, half or more being tourists, would see me and my appearance as one of the many sideshows that littered the sidewalks and streets of the French Quarter. Only one in maybe fifty people who saw me seemed to acquiesce, as if they knew the truth, as if they recognized what the regalia I wore symbolized. Their reactions—those who did notice me—were a combination of fear and reverence. A power to respect, but one unknown enough to most that it was still terrifying.
I made my way to the Esplanade end of Decatur street—where Casa do Diabo stood. It was night, so I should have seen more activity than I did. The place had been packed with vampires—all those turned didn’t have anywhere else to go. I couldn’t go inside. It was still warded against those who had Ogoun’s aspect. I knocked on the door, tapped on windows. Nothing…
A flash of rainbow-colored light grabbed my attention—Pauli in his rainbow-snake form appeared, curled around a lamppost.
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