by S. M. Butler
“What is this place?” Luke said, opening the door for Ysabeau.
“We call it the Recreation Centre.”
“You practice Voodoo in a rec center?” Luke shook his head, “Man, I’m not in Kansas anymore.” As if to prove the point, a hairless three-legged dog ran in front of the car.
Deolina woke up and lumbered out of the car like a post-hibernating bear until Gochi showed up out of nowhere and took Gran’s arm. Deolina came alive quickly. With narrowed eyes, she rushed forward and took Gochi’s other arm. Gochi resembled a chew-toy in the middle of two pit bulls.
“Poor guy,” Luke mumbled.
A whole bunch of flying Kreyòl ensued and he was completely lost.
“Want to translate?” Luke whispered to Ysabeau.
She grimaced. “Not really. It’s not appropriate language for two women. Especially mature Voodoo priestesses.”
“Ah. Big money words.”
“When they were little girls, Grann and Deo were best friends until something drove them apart.”
“A man, you mean?”
“My grandfather.”
Luke cocked his eyebrow. Then he looked at the poor old dude being yanked from side to side by two old broads and took pity on him. “Let’s break this up.”
“Gran! Deo! It’s time to go. The sun will be setting soon,” Ysabeau said. “Come, Luke, let us eat.”
“Eat?” Luke asked. “At a time like this?”
“Sure. I’m starved, aren’t you?”
Surprisingly, he was. Ysabeau lead him toward the blacktop at the back of the building, where the carcass of a goat roasted on a large spit. The three-legged mutt had beaten them there, sitting awkwardly on his haunches, chewing on a chunk of discarded meat. A group of small girls, each sporting numerous braids popping out from their scalps, sat a few feet away on the sidewalk playing a game of jacks. A gang of teenaged boys kicked a can across the grass, shooting goals between two spindly trees.
“Ah, just like home,” Luke said. Sort of. If you didn’t count the Voodoo. “It smells good. Is it for us?”
“Yes. It’s the offering.”
“What?” His voice cracked. “I’m not eating an animal sacrifice.”
“Why not?” she smiled, caressing his check with the back of her hand. “It tastes like chicken.”
By the sparkle in her eyes, he knew she was pulling his leg. They loaded up their plastic plates with goat, fruit, and vegetables and carried them to an empty picnic table. A few minutes later the tables were filled with people dressed in white.
“Who are all these people?” Luke asked.
“Serviteurs. Many practioners follow Grann and Deolina. They are quite famous Vodun.”
“Voodoo Priestesses, right?”
“Exactly. Those ladies over there?” She pointed to a group hanging out around Gran. “They are hounsi, or serving ladies, they assist with the rituals. All of us together are the hounfo, what you might call the parish in another church.”
He swallowed the meat down hard. “What exactly am I supposed to do?”
She smiled. “Dance.”
“That’s it?” He rubbed the shell of her ear with his finger. “Wait, do I have to dance all by myself? In front of everyone?”
“Everyone dances. We can dance together if you like.” She gazed at him in a way that said she was thinking about their first dance in the kitchen. It was the moment he started to fall hard for a brown-eyed Haitian girl.
There was a punch of heat in his stomach. He rested his forehead on hers and stared into those unbelievable eyes. “I like dancing with you. If that’s all I have to do, I can Voodoo all day long.”
“Let us finish our meal so we have plenty of time to get ready.” She ripped a piece of meat off the bone with her teeth. “Yum, not as good as Gochi’s Mahi-Mahi, but this goat is delicious. Do you like it?”
He did. He was starting to think that Voodoo might not be so bad after all.
Chapter Sixteen
‡
Drums beat inside the building—slow, strong, steady. Unlike Luke’s heart. The nervous chatter ended abruptly and the faces around him filled with anticipation. People got up from the picnic tables and formed a line behind Grann and Deolina. The assistants walked directly behind the priestesses. Ysabeau held Luke’s hand and brought him to the middle of the group behind the last hounsi. The rest of the hounfo followed behind them. Gochi, Ysabeau said, would bring up the rear. Tico hadn’t shown up for the ceremony.
A murmur in the crowd swelled until everyone except Luke chanted in Kreyòl. Up ahead, Grann shook something to the beat of the drums.
“The Ason,” Ysabeau explained, “it’s a magic rattle to call the spirits.”
The three-legged mutt took off the moment the drums began. Luke didn’t blame him. He felt like running away with his tail between his legs too. Instead, he straightened his back and made his feet plod along to the beat of the drums and the rattle of the Ason.
The line stopped moving, bottlenecking at the entrance to the Recreation Center.
“What’s happening?” Luke asked, rising up on his toes to see.
“Deolina is making the verve,” Ysabeau said softly. “It’s a ceremonial drawing in flour. Oh look, she’s drawing Legba, the old man gatekeeper between the earthly and spiritual worlds.”
“Looks like a phallus from here,” Luke joked.
“Exactly. Legba is the father of reproduction.”
He had no idea why Deolina would be drawing the father of reproduction on the sidewalk. Would the rest of this event would be just as confusing? He wanted to slink around the back of the building and hide out with the three-legged dog.
“We’re going in,” Ysabeau said, taking his arm.
Inside the large Rec Hall, everyone crowded around a pole that held up a rough-looking roof in what resembled a quickly-thrown-together hut.
“The pole is called Poto Mitan—the center of the universe,” Ysabeau said softly.
Someone turned up the volume on the drums. The pounding reverberated through the hall, shook the walls and windows and pulsed through the linoleum under the soles of his shoes. Chanting loudly, people began dancing around the pole, like planets circling the center of the universe. So much noise. Luke plugged his ears with his fingers, but could still hear Gran’s voice, strong and commanding over the beat.
He had not a clue what was going on. Ysabeau’s eyes were closed and she swayed to the beat of the drums. As if sensing him watching her, she opened her eyes and wiggled a finger at him to join her.
“I don’t know this dance,” Luke yelled. “Maybe I should just watch.”
Her body moved, rhythmically, sensually. Shoulders rolled. Breasts rose. Hips made slow circles. Her eyes were hooded and her lips parted. Seduction at its finest. When she wiggled her finger again, he came to her. With half-opened eyes, she placed her hands on his hips and rocked him, side to side, hips, knees sliding and bumping.
The drums cranked up even louder. Electricity crackled in the air while the dancers gyrated. Heat flowed from every pore. Moans joined the music. Bodies banged together frantically, otherworldly sexual tension begging for release. Ysabeau was pressed against him, her hips moving faster and faster. Her hands travelled south until she was gripping his ass. She moved against him, setting his imagination on fire.
“Kiss me,” she mouthed.
He obeyed. She licked his lips, playing with him, driving him to the brink. She ran her hand down him and cupped his erection.
“Ysabeau,” he groaned.
Her hand moved on his pants, pressing, squeezing, and driving him insane. White lights shot through his brain. His lips found hers again. Thrusting his tongue into her mouth, he kept up with her rhythm, her incredible dance. The noise, the dancing, the seduction pounded through his brain until he couldn’t make sense of any of it. He held onto her, a buoy in a churning, wild sea. His hands were everywhere, touching her, gripping, rubbing. Her hands remained where they were, taking
him to heights he hadn’t experienced in years. Panting, he grabbed her wrist. If she didn’t stop this, he’d explode right here in a room full of people.
She turned around. Ignoring the frantic jungle beat, she pressed her soft body against his hardness and rocked. Slowly, excruciatingly, slowly. He thought he was going to die. He cupped her breasts and hung on as she seduced him to desperation.
“I want you. So damned much.” He spun her around to face her and crushed her lips with his own.
When they finally came up for air, he saw in her eyes how much she wanted him too.
“Luke.” It was a whisper, a chant, a prayer. “Don’t forget me.”
“Forget you?”
The drums ended suddenly and bodies fell to the floor.
“What the hell? What’s happening?” He lifted up on his toes and scanned the room.
When Ysabeau didn’t answer, he turned his attentions on her in time to see her eyes roll back in her head.
“Ysabeau!” He caught her before she crumpled.
Then somehow he was on the floor. He couldn’t think straight. All color bled out of his vision and a weird sensation filled his brain. Cotton smothered him from the inside out.
“Ysabeau, wake up!” he yelled, scrambling to hang onto her in the mass of bodies all around him. “Someone help me!” He looked around and noticed he was the only one still conscious.
And then, inexplicably, he heard arguing. Inside. His. Head.
He blinked rapidly as the world went foggy. No matter how hard he fought it, he couldn’t keep himself upright. His head hit the floor. He couldn’t see. Couldn’t scream. The voices grew louder and louder.
“Stay away from him!” One of the voices yelled.
He had a vision of a figure blocking a body on the floor. A man? Was he dead? It was as if he was looking through mesh. He struggled to make sense of things. The figure blocked most of the vision, protecting the man who’d curled up in the fetal position. Not moving. Just like the bodies in Mr. Johnson’s painting.
Another person stepped closer. A scary, malevolent figure. “Tell me what will happen! I must know. We’re running out of time.”
“That is no concern to me. I only care for him. Release him.”
“I care about her. Tell me what happens, or dis man will suffer,” Malevolent snarled.
“You would not dare harm him!” The protector’s voice was a shrill alarm in Luke’s brain.
“Oh no?” The tone dripped with mockery. “Watch me.”
In the vision, Luke saw the scary woman lift a baseball bat. His brain exploded. He had never experienced anything so painful. He screamed in agony and banged his head against the floor to make it stop.
“No!” The protector screamed. “You’re hurting him.”
The scary woman put the bat down and the pain eased back. “Tell me de truth.”
“There is only one thing you can do to save her.”
“I’m listening.”
“Keep them apart, or she will die.”
There was one more brain pound and then the cotton closed in. The man in the fetal position whimpered as everything went black.
Chapter Seventeen
‡
Luke awoke with one of the worst hang-overs of his life.
“Holy shit, what was in that bottle of Coke?” he complained to no one in particular. He couldn’t remember what’d happened after the dirty dancing. Rubbing his eyes, he tried to straighten out his vision and find Ysabeau in the mess. When the world became clear again, he saw her crumpled beside him. She reminded him of one of Sunny’s dolls that had been tossed on the floor.
He crawled to her and scooped her up in his arms. “Ysabeau.” He kissed her forehead and rubbed her cheek. She stirred a little so he held on and rocked her gently in his arms. “Wake up, angel.”
His legs were too weak to carry her, or he would have taken her out to the car and driven her home.
He scanned the crowd for someone to help him. Not all the hounfo were unconscious. About half-a-dozen of them moved around in a daze. A couple still danced, while one or two wept copiously. A young man fell to his knees in exaltation. A few twitched like they had Tabasco in their briefs, shouting like lunatics.
Luke really didn’t care about the mass hysteria, or whatever it was. All he cared about was the fact that Ysabeau wasn’t awake yet. “Angel.”
Ysabeau’s eyes fluttered open and she focused on his face. “Is it over?”
“Yes. Thank God,” he said quietly. “Come on.” He lifted her to her feet and they both wobbled a bit. “Let’s get out of here.”
She pressed her palm to his chest. “Not yet. Grann needs to finish what she’s started.”
She was weak. Whatever had happened during the ceremony had exhausted her. “Hell, no. I’m taking you home.”
As they started to leave, two identical young women stepped into his path.
“Mr. Carter, I am Reba, this is my sister Meeka,” one of the twins said. “Please come with us.”
“Nice to meet you ladies. If you’ll excuse us, we’re leaving.” Luke sidestepped to pass by them.
They circled around him, quickly stepping into his path again. They were tiny but determined. “Mambo Grann said you must come for the Lave Tet.”
“Sounds interesting ladies, whatever it is, but—”
Reba, or was it Meeka, giggled behind her hand, while the other said, “Lave Tet is the initiation ceremony for those who have been mounted for the first time.”
That made Luke smile. “Hate to break it to you, ladies, but I’m not a first-timer. I’ve been mounted plenty of times.” He glanced sideways at Ysabeau. “Let’s go.” With any luck he would be mounted again before the day was over.
Two pairs of eyes widened. “You have been possessed by spirits before today?”
Luke started to laugh. “You’re kidding me, right?”
From the look on their faces, they weren’t kidding.
“The Mambo has spoken,” one started.
“You must come with us,” the other completed.
“Go, Luke. I’ll wait for you over there.” Ysabeau pointed to a row of chairs. She looked like she needed to sit down.
“All right. Rest. I’ll go see if I can hurry Grann up so we can take you home.”
Flanked by miniature soldiers, Luke went with them to see their leader. Grann Mambo spoke to them, but he was the one who needed the damned answers.
*
Grann wasn’t ready to leave the Rec Centre because the Voodoo ceremony wasn’t over. To speed things along, Luke decided to appease the old lady. After making sure there were no sharp instruments in sight, he knelt on a cushion while Grann spoke over the top of his head to the crowd. People nodded and murmured in agreement with her words. He had no idea what was said, but felt anticipation coming from the crowd. Was he going to be knighted or something equally as fantastic? He didn’t care. He simply wanted the whole ordeal to be over so he could find take Ysabeau home.
After Gran’s little speech was finished, she scooped water from a silver bowl with her hands and began chanting in her deep Mambo voice.
“What’s that?” Luke asked, pointing to the bowl.
She stopped her incantations, or whatever they were. “Holy Water.”
“Real Holy Water?”
Her eyebrows knit together, “What else would it be, Mr. Carter? Dis,” she lifted a stalk of a plant with tapering leaves and clusters of purple flowers, “is Hyssop. A cleansing herb.”
She dipped the Hyssop into the Holy Water and sprinkled his head with it. Droplets flew all around him, showering the altar and the linoleum floor.
“Mr. Carter,” her voice resonated in the hall, “I perform de Lave Tet. De cleansing ritual after a Loa has mounted a human.”
He rolled his eyes. Roughly, she forced his head back down toward the bowl. Cool water dripped from her hands onto the back of his neck. Her words chanted over his bent head. He couldn’t see anything, but could he
ar people pressing in around him. Their voices blended into a low hum of bees buzzing in his ears.
“Goofer!” Someone said behind him.
“Graveyard dust!” The crowd hissed.
Luke had the sensation the group had stepped away from him. He opened his eyes and was shocked to see that the water from his head ran brown into the bowl.
Holy Water my ass, what’s she putting on my hair? He tried to lift his head again, but Grann forced him back down.
“Be still,” she warned. “You do not want me to make a mistake here.”
An eerie silence filled the hall.
Placing a finger under his chin, Grann lifted Luke’s head. “Now Mr. Carter, tell us what you learned.”
“Learned?”
“When you were mounted.”
“I’m not sure what happened to the others.” He thumbed over his shoulder. “But I can unequivocally tell you that no spirit possessed me. That’s ludicrous.”
Her thick lips curled in a smile that didn’t spread to the rest of her face. Her eyes flashed with annoyance. “You do not recall what happened?”
Suddenly, splinters of his memory came back. Mostly he remembered the pain. And fear. Screaming—his. It was like a flashback to the beating he took in the alley, only this time, he never saw who hurt him. He shook his head. This was crazy.
He squinted, matching Grann’s commanding gaze with defiance. “Can we go now? I’d like to wash this crap out of my hair.”
Luke stomped out of the Recreation Center. What in the hell had happened in there? Pressing the bridge of his nose, he exhaled slowly. The massive pounding behind his eyes was killing him.
Ysabeau looked as weak as a kitten. Wrapping his arm around her, he guided her into the car.
“Can I drive? You look pretty worn out,” Luke asked.
“I am fine.” Her voice was heavy with fatigue.
Luke held the door open for her. She smiled weakly as she moved past him and slid into the front seat.
He climbed into the back. “Ysabeau, you don’t look fine.”
She looked at his reflection in the rearview mirror. “I’m a little tired. That was pretty intense. I’m so sorry. How are you?”