Bacchanal

by Veronica Henry

  Liza nearly leaped out of the chair. “Yes, sir, that’s her.”

  “No real first name? We assumed she was being stubborn. That one’s got a streak a mile long, you know.”

  Liza’s face split into an uncontrollable grin. That was indeed her baby sister. Mr. Bacon smiled back at her. He read some notes on the page. “Was brought here a little under a year ago. Both parents deceased. A sister, location unknown.” He looked up. “That must be you.”

  “I’m here now,” Liza said. “I need to see her and make some arrangements before I can take her with me.”

  The smile faltered a bit. “She’s scheduled for day labor over at the farm today. And truth is, there’s a family that seems pretty set on adopting her.” Mr. Bacon gazed at Liza’s ringless finger. “What did you say your husband did for a living?”

  Liza’s breath quickened. “I didn’t. And what do you mean ‘day labor’? She’s a child.”

  The book closed, and Mr. Bacon pushed back from his desk and clasped his hands behind his head. “We’re the best facility in the state. We take good care of everybody here, and that’s no lie. But we don’t run on the goodwill of the citizens. It takes money, and money is hard to come by these days. The kids go out to do simple housework chores—nothing too taxing, mind you. Does them some good.”

  Liza took in the comfortable surroundings with a new set of eyes. All these nice things, the fine clothes, were all possible because they made the kids go out and work for them. Liza hadn’t thought this through. She hadn’t expected her parents to be dead and to now be charged with being a parent herself. But she couldn’t leave Twiggy alone in this place, and she sure as hell wasn’t going to let some other family she didn’t know take her. She needed to talk this over with Clay.

  “I need a day or two to make arrangements, and I’m taking my sister with me.”

  Mr. Bacon rose from his chair. “There is a matter of compensation. And frankly,” he said, looking at Liza’s simple cotton dress and worn leather boots, “the family that wants to adopt her may be able to provide a better life. You have to think of the child, not yourself.”

  Liza wanted to rip the man’s throat out, and from the bubbling in her stomach, she suspected her Badger spirit did too. She stood. “I need to see her.”

  Mr. Bacon walked to his office door and held it open. “I’m afraid your sister has already left for her day-labor work. If you come back later with your husband, maybe we can discuss the matter of how to make this right for everyone.”

  Liza went through the front door and didn’t utter another word. This time, Mr. Bacon’s smile was that of a greedy rodent. She went out the door, waited a second, and circled around back.

  There were children playing, a cluster of girls jumping rope, a few boys kicking a can around. And there . . . a small, thin girl standing off to herself. She leaned against the chain-link fence. A doll tucked under one arm, her face buried in a book.

  Liza approached slowly. The child stood with her stomach poking out, her hair braided in precise lines. Her green-and-white dress faded but clean. Her little overbite was more pronounced, but she was about the right age.

  Liza held her breath.

  And then, the child glanced up from her book. Twiggy.

  To Liza, the sight of her little sister was like the uncaging of a flock of doves. Her mind flooded with precious memories; her mouth went slack and dry. Liza dropped to her knees. There was caution in Twiggy’s eyes, then a recognition that spoke volumes. When Liza held out her arms, Twiggy came to her and folded herself into Liza as if Liza had left her only the day before. Time and distance had done nothing to break their bond.

  Neither spoke for a long time.

  When they did, it all came out in a flood. Her precious Twiggy was right here. The little girl rattled on. She showed Liza the doll of straw with a button for a face that their father had made for her. Counted all the way to one hundred in Creek, English, and Choctaw. Within minutes, Liza was as exhausted as if she had run all the way to the orphanage from Baton Rouge.

  “How did you get here?” Twiggy asked and then followed up: “Why did it take you so long? I was waiting. Yejide said you’d come.”

  “A friend brought me in his truck. It’s right out front. You can probably see it from your room. I’m going to take you away from here; I just need a day or two to get everything ready. Wait, who is Yejide?”

  Twiggy huffed. “You know, Miss Yejide, the witch doctor lady. She said Mama told her I was supposed to do something special when I’m all growed up, but Yejide said it was you instead. I’m glad, though. I think Miss Yejide gone now. She said some bad lady was coming. Made me run off to the secret place. I was real scared but Mama and Pa came for me ’fore long.”

  The vision swooped in on the wings of Raven, the night her parents had given her away and left.

  Ella Meeks freezes. The demon’s passage is a blistering sting to the gut—Goddess Oya’s simultaneous warning like a raven feather brushing against her cheek. She bolts out of the chair and hastens to her satchel.

  The amulets inside flicker, the animals carved into the stones glowing.

  Her husband, Nathaniel, knows they’re in danger without having to ask. They’ve had this conversation. Many times. His jaw clenches in that stubborn way of his. He leans back and crosses his ankle over his knee as if his wife is worried about nothing more than a passing heat wave.

  They lock gazes, warring in a desperate silence, their children oblivious. She breaks away and presses an amulet into each of her children’s palms.

  “Wear this always,” she says, struggling to look each in the eye. Her voice cracks. “Never take it off. Ever. You hear me?”

  “What’s wrong, Mama?” pleads her elder daughter, Liza.

  In answer, an ache-filled squeeze of the hand.

  Nathaniel and Ella hustle away from their home, the last in a string of many across the American south. But this time they don’t take the children. Liza sent to Mrs. Margaret, Twiggy to the medicine woman. The demon will track Ella—better the family is scattered.

  Liza gasped as the vision faded.

  The hasty exit. Mama giving them the amulets. She allowed herself to see the pain in their eyes, recall the lingering touches. Her parents hadn’t abandoned their children; they’d done what they could to protect them. All the hatred she’d built up splintered and disintegrated as an elephant trumpeted in the distance.

  “Mrs. Meeks!” a voice boomed from behind them. Liza turned to see Arthur Bacon and two women striding up behind the sisters.

  “I told you to get ready to go,” one of the ladies said to Twiggy.

  “But my sister is here,” Twiggy whined.

  “Inside.” Mr. Bacon waved his hand. “We must talk to your sister.”

  Grudgingly, Twiggy filed inside, but not before she asked Liza to hold her doll for her. Liza’s heart turned to melted chocolate.

  “I’m going to have to ask you to leave,” Mr. Bacon said.

  Liza was ready to unleash a series of curses at this man and the two women who stood by him like older backwoods versions of Zinsa and Efe. She did take the time to tell them all, as calmly as she could manage, that she would indeed be back.

  As if summoned, Twiggy ran out of the back door again, holding a little bag over her shoulder. “I’m going with Liza,” she said, as serious as Liza had ever seen anyone.

  Liza gulped back tears. As much as she wanted to take her sister away from this place, she couldn’t, not until she was sure things were safe. This battle everyone was so certain she’d have to fight could happen at the carnival or someplace they’d yet to visit; either way, she’d be right in the middle of it, and that meant her sister shouldn’t be anywhere near her. She plastered a smile on her face and got down on one knee. “Come here.”

  Twiggy looked at her veritable jailers and came to Liza.

  “You can’t come with me now,” Liza said, stammering over the words. “But I’ll come back to see you. I
promise. Okay?”

  The little girl threw a fit, dropping her things and pounding her little fists at Liza. “No, you won’t come back. Like before.” Tears streamed down Twiggy’s face. One of the women grabbed the little girl’s hand and dragged her away as Liza stumbled to her feet.

  “I will be back!” Liza screamed and, with a last look at Mr. Bacon, turned and left.

  Eyes blurred by tears, she made her way back to the truck.

  All the venom, curses, and ill will she’d stored up—all came out not in the verbal assault she’d imagined but in loud, racking sobs as she fell into Ishe’s outstretched arms.

  The anger dissipated some. They would never get back the time they’d lost. All the hours spent questioning why her parents didn’t want her. It was a waste and she hated it. They’d done what they did to protect their children.

  Despite the fact that Twiggy didn’t believe her, Liza would be back. She had to work out things first.

  After she’d composed herself, Ishe asked, “You found her?”

  “I did,” Liza answered.

  “And?” Ishe waved his hand in a motion to tell her to get on with the story.

  Liza let everything pour out, grateful she didn’t succumb to tears again. She’d cried enough for one day, and she wasn’t a lady given to wild fits of emotion.

  “Can we talk about it later?” She wanted to help her sister, but she had other things to attend to first.

  They climbed into the truck, gunned the engine, and headed back to the carnival.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

  WHAT WAS LOST IS FOUND AGAIN

  “Liza!” A sharp voice tore her from a daydream in which she’d somehow worked out how to rescue her sister from the orphanage while simultaneously besting the enemy Ago had foretold. Clay stood before her with someone small in tow.

  Liza’s eyes bulged as Clay, dragging a child in front of him, said, “And what exactly is this?”

  Twiggy stood there, looking annoyed and abashed. She wore the same faded green-and-white cotton dotted-print dress. The white fringe at the neck and arms had gone the color of the dusky sky. Socks of the same hue and battered lace-up brown shoes covered her feet. Her doll hung limply from her right hand. She gave Liza a big smile.

  “My . . . my sister, Twiggy,” Liza chirped.

  “I know that.” Clay was red faced, a strand of his slick hair falling into his eye. “But what is she doing here, hiding out in the back of the truck and wandering around my carnival looking for you? We’re setting up here. Ain’t no place for kids. What if she got hurt or somethin’?”

  Twiggy retreated behind Liza’s leg and poked her head around, sticking her tongue out at Clay.

  “If she can’t work”—he pointed his finger—“she can’t stay.” With that he turned and stalked off.

  Liza’s stomach went sour with fear. At that moment, she recalled the slingshot she’d seen in the red trailer, and Zinsa with that same toy—a child’s toy. It was like a key had been inserted into a lock, but she still couldn’t open the door. The red trailer and children? She couldn’t put her finger on the connection, but it was there as inexplicably as her sister was standing in front of her.

  Twiggy could not be here—not now, when there was some battle coming that even Ago didn’t know if she would win. Liza’s heart thudded and her mouth went dry, and she broke out in a sweat and turned her gaze on her little sister. Twiggy blinked up at her as if running away from the orphanage to join a sister she hadn’t seen in years were the most natural thing in the world. Exasperated, Liza hugged her and tried to erase the worry from her face.

  “Does Mr. Bacon know you’re here?” It was a dumb question, but Liza had to ask.

  “He should,” Twiggy responded by not answering.

  “You shouldn’t have followed me.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because.” Liza struggled to answer this part. She hadn’t wanted to leave her baby sister in the misery she’d found her in. She could take better care of her here. Teach her to read. Make sure she was fed and clothed. She could sleep with her in the bunk. Twiggy could help her out with the show. She’d have a much better life. But.

  “Because everybody will worry about you.” Liza’s mind raced as she looked up at the already-setting sun. She had to get Twiggy out of here, as far away from her as possible. “Because you aren’t supposed to up and leave.”

  “You did.” Twiggy stomped her little foot. “Why didn’t you come with me to the witch doctor lady? Miss Yejide disappeared, and I was sent to that place after Papa died. They wouldn’t tell me anything. They think I’m too little to understand, but I know stuff. I don’t like living there. I want to stay with you. You can take care of me. This place looks like more fun.”

  Liza’s heart constricted, and she choked down a sob. She would have to come back for Twiggy later. And what about Ishe? How would he feel about raising a nine-year-old with a sharp tongue and an independent spirit? He might snatch any forthcoming marriage proposal away and run. “I have to take you back.”

  “I’m not going back,” Twiggy said. “I’ll follow you again. And if you don’t want me to get lost out there looking for you, you might as well keep me.”

  Liza wondered where on earth Twiggy had gotten this mouth. She’d been away too long. “All right. I won’t send you away. I promise. But you have to give me some time to figure this all out.” She hadn’t mentioned anything about Bacchanal to Mr. Bacon at the orphanage, so he shouldn’t have any idea of where to search for Twiggy, but maybe she should stay out of sight all the same.

  Twiggy stood with her hand on her hip.

  Liza’s urge to argue evaporated. She grabbed Twiggy by the hand and was struck by the realization that her sister didn’t have so much as a paltry satchel like the one Mama had shoved into her hands before she sent her away. No toys or trinkets, not another dress or underpants, only the one-eyed doll.

  “You hungry?” Liza asked after she’d stood dumbfounded for a number of minutes.

  “Yeah.”

  They made a beeline for the cook tent. Afterward, Liza settled Twiggy onto her bunk while she tried to rearrange things. The introductions with Mico went well, and when they tried to leave, the little monkey squawked his annoyance. He now rode on Twiggy’s shoulder—much giggling and delight ensued.

  By the end of the day, Twiggy had been introduced all around and was a big hit with everyone, especially Mabel, who magically produced treat after treat and demanded that Twiggy be left with her so that the child could have another proper meal.

  “Too thin.” Mabel had looked on her disapprovingly at the cook tent.

  Later Malachi wowed Twiggy with the impossible feat of poking himself with a series of pins without so much as a peep. He did, however, have to caution Twiggy when she unceremoniously leaped up, grabbed a needle, and plunged it into her own arm with a yelp before he or Liza could stop her.

  “Practice, little one,” he’d warned. “It takes years of practice.”

  Even the characteristically stoic Autumn had fallen under Twiggy’s spell. The dancer showed the little girl all the latest fashions in her precious Vogue magazine, even demonstrating a pirouette to a totally astonished Twiggy.

  “Don’t that hurt your foot none?” Twiggy asked.

  Ishe suffered through countless sets of the milk-bottle game, ultimately having to rearrange his bottles so that the little girl could win more easily. Finally, he slipped Twiggy a tiny stuffed bear and shooed them both away. Said he had work to do.

  But the real enchantment began when Liza took Twiggy to meet Hope and Bombardier. Twiggy was apparently as taken in by Bombardier’s broad smile as anyone. When the big man flexed his muscles for her, she did the same for him. He wrapped his hands around hers, hefted the hammer, and brought it down, sending the ring to the top and clanging the bell. He hoisted Twiggy up onto his shoulders and pranced around, gesturing for their small audience. Hope and Liza clapped enthusiastically.

  H
ope got a chance to do some mothering. She set the child on her lap and set to rebraiding her hair, telling her tales of living in the big city of Baltimore, how her own son lived there with her mother.

  Liza paced around, her mind obviously elsewhere.

  “Go on,” Hope said. “We don’t need you hovering around. Go do whatever it is you’re fidgeting about. Me and Twiggy will be fine.”

  With Twiggy’s admonishment not to be gone too long, Liza traipsed around lamenting her bad luck. “I can’t take her back there,” she said aloud to no one in particular. Clay . . . she’d have to figure that out. She doubted the story about the adoption—probably a way to get money out of her. Either way, that didn’t matter now; Twiggy would be safer where she could keep an eye on her. Liza was not prone to praying, but she did beg her animal guides to help her, to not let anything happen to Twiggy and that they help her crush the threat that was racing toward her. Hope . . . Hope and Bombardier would look after Twiggy if things went badly for her. Liza welcomed the resolve that flowed through her.

  Liza stared out into the forested area that buffeted the long line of trailers. The sky still had the gray-and-white cast that made it seem more like winter than the middle of summer. The taste of grit in her mouth had been washed away with a cup of water, but the dust still coated her hair. She had repeated the mantra that Ago had taught her. He’d said she should do it every day until she learned to call her spirits at will.

  A longing—a calling of sorts—moved her forward into the trees. The sounds of critters skittering out of her way mingled with the crush of leaves and grass beneath her feet. She cursed—she could walk more silently than this.

  A bird squawked. Liza tracked the piercing caw to a tree about ten paces in front of her, where a raven sat on a low branch. Her heartbeat quickened. She moved forward slowly and stopped when she was at the base of the tree. Craning her neck upward, she found the raven looking back down at her. It was so close that she could have reached up and touched it. The raven was a shiny black from head to talon. It blinked at her and twisted his head, as if Liza were a human curiosity.