Tortured Spirits

by Gregory Lamberson

  “We had a zonbie problem in New York City last year.”

  Pharah nodded. “Ramera Evans.”

  “Katrina,” Maria said, echoing Jake’s thoughts.

  “She came here years ago and asked for my help with a research project she was doing on vodou.”

  Afterlife, Jake thought. It always came back to Old Nick.

  “I turned her away. My mother did not. Ramera spent a year studying with her. I wasn’t surprised to hear she started her own Black Magic operation under another name.”

  “She told me she sacrificed her infant to Kalfu in exchange for the secrets of Black Magic,” Jake said.

  “My mother did the same thing. The child would have been my older sister.”

  Maria set her coffee down. “You travel with bodyguards, and people know you’re the leader of this White Church. If Malvado’s declared war on your religion, why hasn’t he killed or imprisoned you?”

  “Even Malvado knows you can’t force people to worship a god against their choosing. Everything is a choice always. Members of the Church of the Black Snake get the best jobs, the best interest rates with the bank, the best schools for their children. Malvado’s opposed to creating martyrs, which is why Andre Santiago remains alive in El Miedo. He doesn’t see me as a real threat because I’m a woman. And I suppose I’ve remained free because Puri Catoute is my mother and Malvado is my father, though he’s never claimed me.” Pharah looked around at the surprised expressions in the room and chuckled. “Malvado has his way with all the women in his court. He keeps two wives in the palace and twice as many mistresses. His sons are just as bad.”

  “What turned you to the White Church?” Maria said.

  “Bondye turned me to it! I grew up in the palace in the Black Church with my mother, who groomed me to one day replace her. But I had a spiritual awakening and left the palace to live among the people and study with clerics. My mother was outraged and never forgave me. But she pretended to when I married and had children of my own. I thought I’d raised my eldest daughter, Sivelia, properly, but my mother seduced her with the palace lifestyle and indoctrinated her into the Black Church. Now it’s me who will not forgive her. But I have other children, and they know better than to make the same mistake Sivelia has.”

  Jake finished his coffee.

  Pharah reached over and felt his forehead. “You’re in a bad state. And I don’t mean Pavot Island.”

  “Tell me about it.”

  “Get back on that cot so I can treat you.”

  What the hell? Jake clambered onto the cot.

  Pharah tapped Maria’s arm. “Remove his shirt and pants.”

  Pulling Jake’s shirt over his head, Maria whispered, “Not exactly what I had in mind.”

  “Me, either.”

  Jake’s shorts joined his shirt on the floor, and he stared at the ceiling.

  Pharah pulled her chair over to the bed and sat. “Give me that jar.”

  Stephane passed her a large pickle jar filled with murky water.

  “What’s that?” Jake said with alarm creeping into his voice.

  Pharah unscrewed the jar’s lid. “Nothing for you to worry about, dear.” She took a pair of tongs out of her pocket and dipped them into the water. Jake recalled Kira Thorn doing the same thing once. The tongs came out holding a five-inch-long dark shape that glistened and curled in the air. “It’s just a leech.”

  “That’s damned big for a leech.”

  “I breed them this way. Wipe that look off your face. You’ve fought soldiers and zonbies. Don’t be afraid of a little bloodsucker.”

  “I realize vodou is an ancient religion, but leeches don’t do a damned bit of good. All they do is leave sores and scars.”

  “That’s where you’re wrong. These leeches will suck the Black Magic out of your body. The doctors who once used them got the idea from Houngans. They just didn’t know what they were doing or why.”

  Pharah dropped the leech on Jake’s stomach, and he shrieked at the slimy sensation.

  “Don’t be a baby,” Maria said.

  It took only one minute for Pharah to apply six leeches to Jake’s body. He shuddered as he felt them adhering to his flesh and sucking on it.

  Pharah raised two fingers. “In two hours, the Magic will be out of your system. Then you’ll only have to worry about the psychological addiction. I brought your belongings from your resort suite, by the way. We removed them so my mother could not use them against you. Change into fresh clothes, take what you need, and burn the rest. No one here needs to be connected to you.” Turning to leave, she spoke to Maria. “Keep him drinking liquids.”

  “I will.”

  Facing the men, she said, “Libération de I’île Pavot.”

  “Libération de I’île Pavot,” they said in unison.

  Mambo Catoute seethed with anger as she crossed the front courtyard of the Black Church. She had known Sivelia was ambitious and impatient, but she had not suspected the girl was foolish enough to conspire with Najac against her and Malvado. Not only did she feel betrayed, she felt stupid and embarrassed. She would have to work hard to regain Malvado’s confidence.

  She had been cultivating Sivelia since the girl had turned fourteen, had wooed her with the rich lifestyle afforded by the palace, and had convinced her to preserve her virginity for Kalfu. Perhaps she had taught the bitch too well.

  A soldier stationed at the entrance to the Black Church descended the concrete steps and waited at the bottom for her. Then he offered her his arm, which she took without saying anything, and helped her to the top.

  Inside the lobby, Issagha stood waiting at the fountain with the little traitor. At least Issagha, sure and steady, was far enough along in his studies to replace Sivelia; Catoute wouldn’t have to start over from scratch. But her dream of creating a dynasty of palace bokors had been dealt a fatal blow. Now all she could do was preserve her own standing in the cabinet. Facing her two subordinates, she showed no trace of emotion.

  “Are you all right?” Sivelia said. “You look tired.”

  Traitor! “I’m fine, child. Thank you for your concern.”

  “What happened?” Issagha said.

  “Lord Malvado is beside himself over the loss of his slaves. He wants me to resurrect a fresh batch—too many for me to do by myself. You’re both ready to assist me more than I’ve allowed you to in the past.”

  Issagha bowed. “As you wish, Mambo.”

  Catoute saw glee in Sivelia’s eyes.

  “Anything to help you, Grand-mère.”

  How generous, you witch. “Issagha, you know what materials are required. Gather and prepare enough for fifty resurrections and have them transported to the compound at the plantation outside Pavot City. Sivelia, come with me.”

  Issagha bowed again and hurried off.

  “Anything to lessen your burden.” Sivelia took Catoute by her arm. They entered the church together, their footsteps echoing along the balcony, and walked down the stairs.

  “You’ve worked hard these past years, girl. It’s all about to pay off for you.”

  “I’ve only ever wanted to make you happy.”

  Unseen by Sevilia, Catoute scowled. They passed the podium, descended the second flight of stairs, and entered the summoning room.

  “Pull the bar down,” Catoute said. I may as well get as much work out of you as I can.

  Sivelia grabbed the thick wood in both hands and lowered the bar into the locked position. They crossed the floor, passing the second podium, and stopped at the summoning circle. The blood on the chalk had dried to the color of rust but remained intact.

  “The blood’s a mixture of yours and mine. Yours, because this summoning spell requires sang menstruel. Mine, because I’ve already made a pact with Kalfu. Once you’ve formed a similar bond, only your blood will be required. Gather the pieces of that candle, and kneel facing me in the center of the circle.”

  Sivelia did as instructed. Catoute removed a box of kitchen matches from
the podium and tossed it into the circle. The box landed before Sivelia, who snatched it up.

  “Holding the candle halves together, light the wick.”

  Sivelia removed a long match, then stacked the candle’s halves on top of each other. She struck the match on the box’s side, producing a flame that flared and shrank with a gentle hiss. She looked at Catoute with anxious eyes, and the old woman nodded. Sivelia lit the wick, waited for its flame to grow, then shook the match out and tossed it aside.

  “Chant with me,” Catoute said, and the ancient words rose from within her in a singsong fashion. She had only taught Sivelia the basics of the old tongue, so she chanted in a clear manner.

  Sivelia repeated the words, her gaze darting from Catoute to the candle to the edges of the circle.

  A shadow passed over the circle alone, and a breeze caused the flame to flicker. Catoute stopped chanting, and Sivelia did the same.

  Now we’ll see what you’re really made of.

  The top of Kalfu’s head materialized through the floor, and the demon rose, facing Sivelia, his back to Catoute, who moved along the circle’s outer rim for a better view. Sivelia gasped as Kalfu’s delicate features settled before hers. Catoute saw Kalfu’s red eyes reflected in her granddaughter’s. Kalfu continued to rise, and Sivelia tipped her head back to stare at his face. His penis became erect and Sivelia’s eyes widened and she rose.

  “You’re beautiful,” Sivelia said, tears of wonder in her eyes.

  Kalfu raised his hands to her face, then hesitated. His fingers danced in the air inches from her cheeks, and then he jerked his head in Catoute’s direction. “What’s the meaning of this, old woman?”

  “As I’m sure you know, Helman’s escaped. Vasquez and some rebels rescued him from Malvado’s plantation. But he’s still on the island, and I intend to present him to you as promised. In the meantime, I honor you with this sacrifice.”

  Sivelia stepped back, her features contorting. “Sacrifice?”

  Catoute felt her face twitching with anger. “You plotted against me, girl. The incantation you just chanted was a call for sacrifice.”

  Sivelia spun on one heel, attempting to flee the circle, but before she had reached the perimeter’s edge Kalfu seized her hair and snatched her back. “Grand-mère, please!”

  “You little ingrate,” Catoute hissed.

  Sivelia pushed at Kalfu. “I’ve waited to give myself to you half my life!”

  Kalfu pulled her close to him. “And I’ve observed you just as long. I had other plans for you—long-range plans. This old wretch has undermined us both.”

  Catoute aimed her cane at Kalfu. “The bitch sought to undermine me, which I’m sure you knew all about. Curse your supposed noninterference. You could have warned me.”

  “Let me go,” Sivelia said. “Her time is almost up, and I swear I’ll serve you well.”

  Catoute cackled.

  “A wise offer,” Kalfu said, “but no longer possible under these circumstances.”

  Tears streamed down Sivelia’s cheeks. “No …”

  Catoute watched Kalfu transform into his true flesh form and relished Sivelia’s terrified screams. The Loa tore her dress to shreds, then turned his attention to her skin. Bones snapped, flesh stretched and ripped, and blood flowed. Catoute almost felt sorry for her granddaughter as Kalfu mounted the girl’s reconfigured body from behind and thrust the horn between his legs into her openings. Sivelia pleaded for Kalfu to stop, for Catoute to help, and, realizing neither would happen, for death to take her.

  As Kalfu feasted on the girl’s tissue, Catoute didn’t have to wonder what would happen to her if she failed to deliver Helman to her master.

  TWENTY-FIVE

  The first leech died on Jake’s right thigh. He felt the sucking stop, and then the creature turned still and rolled off him, leaving a bloody sore covered in mucus-like slime.

  “Thank God,” Jake said as Maria picked up the dead parasite and deposited it into a waste container.

  The next one died a few minutes later, and within half an hour Maria treated all six wounds with disinfectant that caused Jake to curse.

  “How do you feel?” Maria said.

  “Like I’ve been through detox but I can’t stop thinking about that shit.”

  “How did it make you feel?”

  He thought about it. “Vile. And yet there was something soothing about giving myself over to it. The repercussions didn’t matter as long as I was able to desensitize myself to the world.”

  “Is the world such a bad place?”

  “Sometimes it is. You know that. Sometimes it’s beautiful. But darkness has a way of trumping beauty.”

  “That’s pretty bleak.”

  “I need to find cleaning solution for my glass eye.” Jake raised his stump. “And I’m worried that if this gets infected, I could lose my entire arm.” He pointed to his face. “These scars will never heal unless I have plastic surgery. My wife was murdered, my best friend was turned into a raven, and I seem to have as hard a time avoiding zonbies as I do staying clean. It’s a little difficult to find much sunshine.”

  Maria stepped close to him. “But not impossible.”

  “No, not impossible.”

  She kissed him, then put her arms around him. “I was worried about you.”

  “I worried about you, too.”

  She sniffed his shirt. “You stink.”

  “You stink, too.”

  Maria looked into his eye. “The guys are cooking breakfast. I saw one of those old claw-foot tubs in another room, rigged with a wood-burning stove. What do you say we heat some water, act social, then chase everyone off so we can take a bath together?”

  “That sounds proper.”

  Sitting at a long table in a wide room in the cave, they ate bacon and eggs wrapped in tortillas. Walls had been erected to create a buiding-like atmosphere, and mounted torches burned.

  “There’s nothing like a good home-cooked meal in a cave,” Maria said.

  “My brother’s the cook in the family,” Jorge said.

  “It’s true,” Armand said. “Jorge even manages to ruin toast.”

  “What do you guys do for a living?” Jake said.

  “I work in the salt mine,” Armand said. “Stephane owns a horse ranch.”

  Stephane grinned. “I bought it to be a tour guide, only the tourists never showed up.”

  “Won’t you be missed at work?” Maria said.

  Armand shook his head. “Because I don’t wear the black snake on my arm, they only call me when they need me.”

  “Where’s Pharah?” Jake said.

  “She’ll be back,” Stephane said. “She went to the market for groceries.”

  “We won’t be here that long,” Maria said.

  “Bondye willing,” Armand said.

  Jake looked at the faces around him. “How did you know where to find me?”

  Jorge gestured to Armand. “Our cousin is a nurse at the clinic where they took you.”

  “Ramona?”

  Jorge nodded. “I almost had Maria on a boat when we got the news. From that moment on, she was an unstoppable force.”

  “This is some woman,” Stephane said.

  With his admiration for her growing, Jake gazed at Maria. The torchlight caressed her features.

  She didn’t look away.

  Jake winced as he settled into the bath, the hot water burning the sores left by the leeches. He dangled his left arm over the edge of the tub, keeping his bandaged stump dry.

  Maria stripped before him and opened her mouth as she stepped into the steaming water. “Speaking of scars, these scratches had better heal.” She eased herself into the water, and they sat facing each other with their knees raised and their heads resting on the edge of the old tub. “Christ, that feels good.”

  “Add taking a bath in a secret cave to the list of things I never expected to do in my life.”

  She stared at him with relaxed features. “This is all so crazy. I c
an’t believe it’s been less than a week since Miami.”

  “Time flies when you’re battling the supernatural.”

  Maria straightened her legs so they pressed against Jake’s. “How do you do it? Why do you do it?”

  “I don’t have much choice. Trouble follows me. Maybe I’m cursed.”

  “I hope Edgar’s okay.”

  “I do, too.”

  “If we make it out and Miriam keeps her word, what do you think he’ll say about all this?”

  “I have no idea. I just hope he can put his life back together.” Jake felt himself growing hard.

  “I think you like me,” Maria said, nodding at his erection.

  “I think you’re right.”

  Sliding her hands through the water, she closed her fingers around his shaft and tightened them in sequence over and over, like a flautist.

  Jake moaned and grew harder.

  “You feel awfully tense. Got a lot on your mind?”

  Jake grabbed the side of the tub as Maria stroked him. “You sure you’re a cop?”

  “I’ve always been a multitasker.”

  He felt the pressure building inside him. Maria glided forward through the water and leaned closer to his face. He looked up at the stalactites and let loose a groan, then closed his eyes.

  Sitting at his desk and poring over a ledger, Father Alejandro looked up when he heard vehicles approaching. After removing his reading glasses, he stood at the window and peered outside. A black limo, a jeep carrying two officers, and a troop transport truck pulled into the parking lot.

  What in God’s name?

  He hurried out of his office to the side exit. Outside, his heart skipped a beat when he saw Bill Russel, the head of Malvado’s secret police, and Maxime, one of the dictator’s sons, walking toward him from the limo. The army officer climbed out of the jeep and mobilized the soldiers jumping out of the transport truck.

  “What’s the meaning of this?” Alejandro said as Russel and Maxime reached him.

  Maxime slapped him. “Speak when spoken to.”

  Alejandro felt a stinging in his cheek. “I don’t understand.”

  Russel stepped between them. “Father, may we speak inside?”