Tortured Spirits

by Gregory Lamberson

  Jesus Christ. Russel fucking maimed me. For almost two years he had feared the man would take revenge on him, and now it had come to pass. I want to kill him.

  Maria’s eyes turned shiny and reflected the firelight. “You’re alive. Whatever else they did to you, you’re alive.”

  This time he reached up with his right hand and caressed her face. “Where are we?”

  “In a church.”

  Of all the answers she could have given him, that one was the furthest from his mind. “In a cave?”

  She nodded. “The Church of the White Snake. When Humphrey said religion went underground, he wasn’t kidding.”

  “What are we doing here?”

  “Hiding. The whole fucking country must be looking for us.”

  “Water …”

  Maria moved to the cabinets and filled a glass with water from a pitcher. Jake noticed dozens of deep scratches on her legs and arms. When she returned to his side, she held the glass while he gulped the water. Then she set the glass down.

  “The last thing I remember, they doped me up with some vodou smoke and threw me into a drug den out in the middle of nowhere.”

  “We came and got you.”

  He raised his eyebrows.

  “Three friends helped me. They’re good men, like Humphrey. We killed a lot of zonbies getting out. I’m not a virgin anymore.”

  “Where are they?”

  “Jorge’s asleep in the next room. Armand and Stephane are guarding the mouth of the cave. This place is enormous. You’ll meet them all later.”

  Jake swallowed and the soreness returned to his throat. “Thank you.”

  She brushed his hair out of his eye, her fingernails scraping his forehead. “You’re welcome.”

  “I feel terrible.”

  “You look terrible.”

  “You look—”

  Maria leaned forward and kissed him. Her lips and tongue tasted sweet. When they parted, she said, “I’m sorry. I had to do that.”

  He managed a smile. “You deserve it.”

  “So do you.” So she kissed him again.

  Sitting in his usual seat at the palace conference room table, Russel straightened his shoulders when the door opened and Malvado entered, followed by his sons.

  Russel, Buteau, Solaine, and Mambo Catoute had been sitting in the room for almost twenty minutes, saying very little to each other. They had parted ways in the middle of the night, and Russel had grabbed only an hour’s sleep before reporting for the emergency meeting Malvado had called.

  Now the dictator stood before them in his royal-blue uniform. Najac stood on his left, Maxime on his right. Malvado glared at every individual in the room, then dropped into his chair. Maxime and Najac sat, too.

  “I’ve read each of your reports,” Malvado said. “I want to know only one thing: How did this happen?”

  The leaders stared at the table.

  “I ordered you to double the security.”

  “We did, Your Excellency,” Buteau said. “It wasn’t enough.”

  “Three men and a woman …”

  “We’ve taken impressions of the vehicle’s tire tracks,” Solaine said. “We will identify who they were.”

  “You mean you’ll identify who the men were. We already know who the woman was!” Malvado pounded a beefy fist on the table. “In all the years that my slaves have worked the poppy fields, no one has ever assaulted them, not the People for Pavot and not Pavot for the People.”

  “That’s why we never thought anyone would strike the plantations.” Buteau spoke in a delicate tone. “Our citizens, even the terrorist rebels, are too terrified to go near them.”

  “Yes. The people are frightened. But this woman is not. And she has infected others with her lack of fear. I want her found, and I want her brought to me so I can flay her alive.”

  Russel didn’t doubt the sincerity of Malvado’s words. “When I first accepted my position, I recommended a complete overhaul of the security measures at every government installation, including the plantations.”

  “I have an army! We’re not at war, so they have nothing better to do than guard my crops. We don’t need expensive sophisticated equipment.”

  Knowing better than to press the point, Russel said nothing.

  Malvado rose and circled the table. “Whatever Helman and Vasquez came here for, the only thing they can do now is run. They have to get off Pavot. General Buteau and Colonel Solaine, I want boots on the ground and helicopters in the air. Deploy as many men as it takes to turn this island upside down. Conduct a search of every house, farm, apartment, and abandoned building on Pavot. Find these two Americans. Kill their accomplices, but bring the man and the woman to me.”

  Russel felt sweat forming on his bald head as Malvado stopped behind him.

  “William, I want you to interrogate all suspected dissidents and their family members. Incarcerate anyone you suspect of treachery. We need to replenish the slaves I lost last night.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Next, Malvado stepped behind Mambo Catoute. Across the table, Maxime opened his laptop and powered it on. They worked out a cue in advance, Russel thought.

  “Mambo Catoute, be ready to convert our impending prisoners to zonbies as soon as possible. Have as many priests and priestesses standing by to assist you as necessary.”

  Russel’s unease grew. As he understood it, only Mambo Catoute had the knowledge and powers to resurrect Black Magic overdoses as zonbies. He knew she had taught her closest followers, especially Sivelia and Issagha, the basic steps so one of them could one day replace her, but she held the deepest, darkest secrets to herself.

  “Yes, my lord.”

  Malvado stopped behind Najac, where everyone but his son could see him. “Maxime, show Najac what you’ve discovered.”

  Maxime rotated the laptop so it faced Najac. Russel had a full view of the screen, which showed a man and a woman standing near an apartment door. He sensed Mambo Catoute stiffening beside him, and Najac narrowed his eyes.

  That’s Najac and Sivelia!

  Maxime tapped a key on the laptop and the footage played, the audio low but audible.

  Sivelia: Did anyone see you?

  Najac: What difference would it make if they did?

  Sivelia kissed Najac.

  Najac started to rise. “Father, I—”

  Setting his hands on his son’s shoulders, Malvado eased him back into his seat. “Shh. Watch.”

  On the screen, the lovers parted.

  Najac: You’re going to make me burst, woman.

  Sivelia: Would you sacrifice everything we’ve worked so hard to achieve for one night of pleasure when were so close to realizing our dreams?

  Najac: I might.

  Najac lunged across the table for Maxime, who jumped to his feet. “You traitor!”

  Sivelia: And I’d make you feel like a king. But in the morning you’d still be a prince and my body would be worthless.

  Malvado jerked Najac back. “Who’s a traitor?”

  Najac: How much longer?

  Malvado grabbed Najac by his ears, raised his head, and slammed his forehead down on the table’s edge. Najac screamed.

  Around the table, the cabinet members sat rigid with fear.

  Sivelia: The old woman’s taught me everything she’s willing to while she remains head Mambo. But I’ve learned quite a bit on my own, and this week I figured out something else. She made me draw a circle on the church floor and give her a jar of my sang menstruel. Both were used to summon Kalfu; I know it. All I need to do is get my hands on her book, learn the incantation, and I could summon him myself.

  Leaning forward, Malvado wrapped his arms around his son’s head.

  Najac clawed at his father’s arms. Blood poured out of the opening in his forehead, blinding him.

  Najac: It isn’t fair. I should have you before that demon does.

  Malvado gave Najac’s head a sharp twist, and the sound of his neck snapping filled the room. />
  Sivelia: We both have to make sacrifices, my lord. That’s what it will take for you to be king and me to be your high priestess. It’s time for a new generation to rule Pavot Island.

  Standing straight again, Malvado continued to twist Najac’s head until his son faced him over his back. “Look at me when I’m talking to you!”

  Najac: When you become pregnant, Mambo Catoute will suspect Kalfu, wont she?

  Clutching Najac’s ears once more and staring down into his son’s countenance, Malvado raised his face close to him and slammed the back of his head down on the table with such ferocity that Russel felt the vibration.

  Sivelia: You have to kill her immediately after Kalfu takes me—even before you kill your father.

  Malvado raised Najac’s head and smashed it down again.

  Najac: It’s my brother who worries me. He has to suspect I want Pavot for myself.

  And again.

  Sivelia: Well kill him together.

  With the fifth pound, the back of Najac’s skull split open, and gore splattered the table.

  Najac: I like the way you think.

  Malvado continued to slam Najac’s head on the table, crushing it into pulp, each blow spattering those seated with blood. The dictator’s features twisted into a snarl.

  Sivelia: That’s why I’ll make the perfect queen.

  Finally, Malvado hurled Najac’s corpse on the floor, and with his chest heaving stared at his followers. “Make no mistake. I am in control of Pavot Island, and I demand fealty from my subjects. I will tolerate no conspiracies, no disloyalty, and no disrespect. Even from my own blood.”

  The only movement Russel made was to blink. The fear in the room had grown palpable.

  “William, I rely on you for intelligence. Why did I have to learn from Maxime that Najac was plotting against me?”

  Russel felt his leg trembling. “I’m sorry, Your Excellency. I failed in my responsibility. I had no idea he was this ambitious.” Because I suspected he and Maxime were teaming up to overthrow you.

  “You and Maxime will work together until this crisis has passed. I want him fully involved in every action you take. If you’re my eyes, he’s my ears.”

  Russel cleared his throat. “As you wish.” Now he would be unable to discover if Maxime had designs of his own on the palace.

  “Mambo Catoute, I suggest you choose your next apostle more carefully.”

  “Yes, lord.” Mambo Catoute’s voice cracked.

  Malvado glanced at Maxime, who closed the laptop. “For my sake, make it a man this time.”

  God has spoken, Russel thought.

  TWENTY-FOUR

  Maria helped Jake around the corner of the makeshift room into an open cavern where several portable toilets had been set up. After he had finished, they returned to the room and sat on chairs, the foldout table between them.

  “Who’s Bill Russel?” she said.

  Jake’s stomach clenched. “An ex-CIA spook I know from my days at the Tower. He was brokering a deal between Old Nick and President Seguera from the Philippines. I sabotaged the deal. Now he’s here, heading the secret police.” He raised his stump. “He did this.”

  “You woke up delirious in the middle of the night. You mentioned him and a lot of other people.”

  The room suddenly felt much smaller. “Oh?”

  “Weird shit.”

  He held her gaze, waiting for her to continue.

  “Kira Thorn. Cain and Abel. Something called Avademe.”

  Jake blew air out of his cheeks.

  “If I hadn’t seen those zonbies up close and killed them the way you told me to, I’d think you were crazy. I still don’t know what to think.”

  “There are days when I don’t believe the things I’ve seen, when I doubt my own sanity.”

  “You talked about the Realm of Light and the Dark Realm. Heaven and hell, right?”

  “In a manner of speaking.”

  “Cain and Abel?”

  Jake didn’t want to say more. The knowledge that human beings ascended to other dimensions when they died had provided him with sleepless nights rather than comfort. There was no telling how any one mind would cope with that information, and Maria had already been through a lot. “If we get off this island, I promise to tell you my life story.”

  “The boat that was supposed to transport us off the island with Andre Santiago leaves at midnight tonight. We’re going to be on it.”

  “Midnight’s a long way off. Anything can happen before then.”

  A short man with a wide mustache and a receding hairline entered with a coffeepot. “I’m glad to see you looking better.”

  “I feel like death warmed over,” Jake said.

  “It’s this Caribbean climate.”

  Maria rose so Jake did the same.

  “Jake, this is Jorge. He and Humphrey were close.”

  Jake shook Jorge’s hand. “I’m sorry about Humphrey. He was a good man. Thank you for looking after Maria and for saving my life.”

  “You’re welcome. As you can see, I brought you coffee. We have plenty of sugar but no milk or cream.”

  “Thanks. I take it black anyway.” Jake sat back down.

  “I’ll take sugar,” Maria said, sitting as well.

  Jorge set the pot on the table and retrieved three mugs from a cupboard. “We make our coffee strong here.” He filled the mugs, then pulled over a chair and sat.

  “The stronger the better,” Jake said. He had been unable to stop thinking about Black Magic since he had awakened and needed something to appease his craving. Jorge’s coffee did not disappoint him. “This is some layout.”

  “There’s much more here than you see. There are many secret churches here on Pavot, but this is the largest. Over time, Mambo Pharah has turned this one into a warehouse. It’s more practical for her to preach to smaller groups in homes, which draws less attention.”

  “Mambo Pharah?”

  “The high priestess of the Church of the White Snake. She’s the daughter of Mambo Catoute, who holds the same position in the Church of the Black Snake. It would be too confusing to call them both Mambo Catoute, so Pharah uses her first name. It’s not a sign of disrespect; she’s beloved by the community she serves.”

  “If Mambo Catoute is an old crone, I saw her. She lit a candle made out of Black Magic and made me inhale its smoke.”

  “That’s her. She’s Malvado’s spiritual advisor. She’s very powerful and feared by many.”

  “But her daughter pitches for the other team?”

  “Yes. Pharah’s here in the church now.”

  Maria bit her lower lip. “Um, she kind of cast a spell on you.”

  Jake narrowed his eye.

  “Only so Mambo Catoute couldn’t use your missing hand to cast a spell on you,” Jorge said. “It was for your own protection.”

  “And yours, I bet.”

  Jorge nodded. “We put you in this chamber so if the soldiers followed us they wouldn’t find you. This cave is a maze of caverns. I don’t want either of you to wander off alone or even with each other. Unless there’s trouble, you’ll need a guide.”

  “Humphrey said he didn’t belong to this church. Do you?”

  “No. I’m a traditional Catholic. But my brother, Armand, and our friend Stephane are members. You’ll meet them soon.”

  “Sooner than you think,” a male voice said.

  Three people entered the room: a tall Hispanic man, a chubby black man, and a dark-skinned woman who wore a scarf in her hair and a white snake around her neck. The serpent looked identical to the one Jake had killed in Maria’s room at the resort.

  Jake, Maria, and Jorge rose.

  “This is Armand and Stephane,” Jorge said.

  Jake shook their hands and met their eyes. “Thank you.”

  Armand nodded.

  “And this is Mambo Pharah.”

  Pharah moved closer, appraising Jake. “You and Maria have stirred up a hornet’s nest of trouble.”

>   “We’re sorry,” Maria said. “We meant well.”

  “Sometimes trouble is a good thing. It spurs men and women to action.”

  Jake gestured at the white snake around her neck. The serpent studied him and Maria. “I killed a snake just like that the other night.”

  Pharah smiled. “Do you really think so?”

  Maria stepped back. “Please don’t tell me that’s the same snake.”

  “Miriam told me you were coming. She trusted you, but I wanted to know your intentions for myself. This snake is my familiar, like a witch’s cat. It contains a small piece of my soul. I had it smuggled into your room to observe you, and I watched you through its eyes.”

  “What did you learn?” Jake said.

  “That you’re afraid of snakes,” she said to Maria, then turned to Jake. “And you’re not.”

  “I’m over my fear of snakes,” Maria said. “Just not ghost snakes.”

  “You have nothing to fear.” Pharah grasped the snake below its head and held it close to her face. “This is neither a snake nor a ghost. It’s the symbol of this church.”

  “You worship that?” Jake said.

  “No. We worship Bondye, the one true god. But he is too great, and we’re too insignificant to pray to him directly. So we pray to the Loa, who serve as intermediaries between our world and the next.”

  “Like saints,” Maria said.

  “The Loa are lesser gods, like angels and demons. Malvado and my mother, Mambo Catoute, worship Kalfu, one of the Petro Loa, the aggressive beings.”

  Kalfu, Jake thought with growing realization. Katrina had worshipped Kalfu.

  Pharah gestured at the table. “Please sit down. Finish your coffee. You need liquids to purge your system.”

  Jake and Maria sat again, but Jorge offered his seat to Pharah, who accepted it.

  “We’re safe for the moment,” Pharah said. “My bodyguards are protecting the cave’s mouth.”

  “Kalfu’s supposed to be a badass,” Jake said, which caused Maria to raise her eyebrows.

  Pharah seemed pleased. “You know of him? Good. It will save us some discussion.”