The Balance Omnibus

by Alan Baxter

  Drake nodded. ‘So you’re saying that religion is all very well, so long as you take responsibility for your mortal life, and don’t just expect peace in Heaven no matter what you do down here?’

  ‘Yes. If religion helps you in your daily life, then fair enough, but make the most of that daily life. And make sure that there’s plenty of life left for your children and their children. This world is all we have. I despise the people that abuse it.’

  Drake gently stroked his tidy beard. ‘It seems to me that the subject of your profession is often at odds with your beliefs, Miss Bailey.’

  ‘No, not really. It’s all just a matter of perspective. I’m as determined to preserve the beliefs of indigenous tribes as I am to preserve their lands and cultures. Their beliefs often structure their survival in psychological ways that don’t need any proof. That’s the simple beauty of it. That’s the simple beauty that so many so called developed people seem to have lost sight of.’

  Drake chuckled. ‘I wonder if that perspective will change as you get nearer to my age.’

  An electronic beep accompanied the No Smoking/Fasten Seatbelts sign lighting up. Katherine was surprised at the sudden depth of conversation this old stranger had just engaged her in. As she pulled her belt about her waist, clipping the metal buckle together, she asked, ‘So what brings you to Guatemala?’

  Drake smiled benignly. ‘I’m a retired parish vicar from England, seeing a little of the world before it’s all over for me.’

  Katherine coloured slightly, unable to stop herself giggling. ‘Oops!’

  Some time later, as Katherine stood waiting for her bags to arrive on the slow moving carousel, there was a familiar polite cough behind her. She turned to face Thomas Drake standing there, a small suitcase in one hand, leather travel bag over his shoulder.

  ‘How are you managing?’ he asked.

  ‘Fine thanks. Looks like your luggage arrived sooner than mine.’

  Drake nodded. ‘Let’s hope your luggage isn’t in Jamaica, wondering where you are!’

  Katherine winced. ‘Don’t even joke about it.’ She hefted her own travel bag. ‘At least I have my money, passport and laptop. I could get by without anything else, but I’d rather not.’

  ‘So where are you off to next?’ Drake asked.

  ‘I need to get way up north. I’m not sure how yet.’

  Drake looked embarrassed, then he said, ‘I really don’t want to appear rude, but might I make a suggestion?’

  Katherine nodded, ‘Sure.’

  ‘Well, my guidebook says that Guatemala City has all sorts of attractions that are best seen after visiting the various places around this strange land. So I was planning to travel around before stopping in this city for any length of time.’ He smiled nervously. ‘Also, I’m looking for a little adventure.’ He paused, thoughtful for a second.

  ‘Go on,’ Katherine said. He sounded like a teenager trying to ask for a date. She spotted her backpack slowly gliding by, grabbed it by one strap, swinging it up onto her back.

  ‘Well, it seems to me that you may be heading into some pretty interesting territory. I wondered if I might accompany you? My intentions are entirely honourable of course, being a man of the cloth. Whether you believe in it or not!’

  Katherine laughed. ‘Not going to try to convert me are you? Save my soul?’

  ‘Certainly not! I’m retired. I just sometimes get this feeling. I call it God, but you’d probably call it fate or intuition. This time I really feel as though I should accompany you. I can’t explain it any further than that.’

  Katherine nodded, her eyes distant. This old man was strange indeed, but there was something friendly and harmless about him. And something somehow safe, too, like his companionship would be a benefit. Independent and strong-willed though she was, she was often apprehensive about travelling alone. ‘You know, it does sound crazy, but I know exactly what you mean,’ she said. ‘It does seem like the right thing to do. Well, can your guidebook help with getting us up north?’

  Drake beamed broadly. ‘It certainly can.’ He leafed through the pages of his chunky, colourful book. ‘Look, here. It says that this country has a very well developed internal airline system. We could get up north directly without even leaving the airport. I believe we can book ourselves an internal flight over there.’ He pointed. ‘Most flights, according to this, are daily and fairly cheap.’

  Katherine was pleased. That sounded a lot easier than she had anticipated.

  Isiah pulled the little car into a leafy, gravelled driveway, killed the engine. They sat in silence for a second. The driveway was not long, yet the broken down house at the end was almost entirely obscured by a profusion of unkempt trees, shrubs, vines. Patches of peeling white paint and grimy windows were the only things visible, here and there through the foliage. It had finally stopped raining, but the new day was still grey, overcast. Diamonds of moisture glistened dully on the deep green leaves all around, the air heavy with the scent of loam. A jet black cat crept stealthily through the low brush, paused to look directly at Isiah. He hated that.

  He could feel the heavy energy of this place. To someone as sensitive as he was the power here was obvious. He knew well enough that he was far from the only being that was outside the normal sphere of human existence. He knew several others that were not gods or deities of any kind, yet were far more than human. Sometimes far less. People like Vincenzo the mobster and a hundred others. Some people he had met were a great deal older than he was, although he had never met anyone quite as powerful, with as much control over matter and space. He was so lonely sometimes. He sat, thoughtful, for a while, wondering how to play this. Other old, powerful beings, be they human or otherwise, could be difficult.

  Samuel looked around, absently massaging his thighs. After a moment more of silence he said, ‘Still pretty early, huh?’ More to break the silence than anything else. Isiah just nodded. Samuel tried again. ‘We gonna wait a while?’

  Isiah sighed. Whoever was in there knew they were out here, no doubt about that. ‘No, we might as well go on in.’

  Samuel looked over at him, one eyebrow raised. ‘You all right, man?’

  Isiah got out of the car. ‘Yeah. Come on. Don’t say a word, okay? Let me do the talking.’

  ‘No problem, man. He won’t recognise me anyway.’

  ‘Yes he will.’

  Samuel raised an eyebrow again, but chose not to say anything.

  They crunched over the gravel, rain-heavy leaves coldly tickling their cheeks. As they went around to the main door, it creaked slowly open. An old man stood framed in the doorway, squinting slightly against the hazy light. His skin was black as coal, his hair long, dreaded, patchy grey and black. He had a scrubby grey beard, deep, dark eyes. He was dressed in a profusion of clothes, baggy shirts and jumpers, one atop another, loose trousers, large soft leather boots, more like slippers than shoes.

  Without a word he turned, shuffled back into the house. Isiah guided Samuel through the door, followed, closed it behind him. The first room was a kitchen, black and white tiled floor, old, rickety furniture, large stone sink. The Voodoo-Man went through into the next room.

  Samuel pointed at one of four chairs around the uneven table. ‘My jacket was there.’ It was not there now. Isiah nodded, motioned him to follow the Voodoo-Man.

  The next room was large and dark. The windows all had heavy drapes hanging before them, tied and knotted. There were overstuffed, threadbare armchairs and sofas around the room. Against the far wall stood a large wooden table, voodoo altar, loaded down with all manner of things, effigies, fetishes, rosaries, candles, crucifix, colour lithographs of various Catholic saints. Incense and candles burned all around, the room fragrant, cloying. The Voodoo-Man slumped into a large armchair that had long since assumed his shape. He held out one hand as Samuel entered, brandishing a fetish of some form, wood and feathers.

  ‘Keep your distance, Samuel Harrigan.’ His voice was deep, resonant, heavily accented. Isi
ah recognised it, French Haitian.

  Samuel paused for a moment, stunned, then lunged toward the old man. ‘I’ll fucking kill you, man! You set me up!’

  Isiah swiftly raised a hand, flicking his fingers towards Samuel. Samuel stopped dead, collapsed to the floor like he had dived straight into a brick wall. Isiah’s voice was soft, menacing. ‘Sit down, keep still and don’t say a fucking word.’ Samuel complied without question, rubbing his head, his eyes slightly wild. The Voodoo-Man nodded his thanks to Isiah, his face betraying no trace of surprise.

  Isiah sat opposite the old man, looking directly into his eyes. The Voodoo-Man looked slowly over to Samuel, making him shiver. ‘You new body fit you well, Samuel Harrigan.’ Samuel just nodded, his mouth twitching as he tried to smile. ‘Why you here, man? Revenge?’

  Isiah stepped in. ‘That may be what he wants, but he won’t get it. It’s not why we’re here.’

  The Voodoo-Man looked back to Isiah. ‘So why you here?’ His voice was slow, hypnotic.

  ‘He was taken from here, right?’

  The Voodoo-Man nodded. ‘Him torn away. Him path had come to an end. It seem you carve him a new one, bocor. Be quick, Ancient. Me had me fill of the Devil. Don’t be bringing more evil here.’

  Isiah could not completely ignore his curiosity. ‘Why did you give him away?’

  ‘No choice, man. Legba come, he tell me the Devil want him soul. Me can’t deny Legba, man.’

  ‘He’s the one that has you trapped here?’

  The Voodoo-Man nodded slowly. ‘Gede hold me here, but Legba tell him so.’

  Samuel’s curiosity overcame his fear. ‘What the hell are you two on about? Who are Legba and Gede? I’ve never heard of them.’

  The Voodoo-Man looked at him, his gaze heavy. ‘They me gods, Samuel Harrigan. Your God and Devil are too far above and below to speak with us. Our loa guide and control us.’

  Samuel looked at the lithographs of saints, the rosaries, crucifix, next to the chicken feet and fetishes. ‘Is that why you obeyed the will of the Devil?’

  ‘Me obey me loa Samuel Harrigan. Legba interpret the will of gods, Gede, him Death.’

  Isiah was not surprised. The Devil was trying to track down Samuel. He obviously knew that Samuel associated with this voodoo Hungan, therefore it was an easy route to Samuel. Many believers in the voodoo pantheon believed just as much in the Catholic church now, no activity was undertaken without first asking the blessing of the Father, Son and Holy Ghost. Therefore they had to believe in the Devil too. If Isiah had known that Samuel was associated with this man he would have come straight here too. He knew that Samuel had used voodoo divination, but he had not been told that Samuel actually had a voodoo guru of sorts. He shrugged, too late to worry about that now. He decided to get to the point. ‘We need something that Samuel left here.’

  The Voodoo-Man nodded. ‘That’s what me think. It already gone.’

  Irritating. ‘Gone where.’

  ‘Man come and take it. Him want to pay me.’ The Voodoo-Man chuckled at the absurdity of this, deep rumbling in his chest. ‘Money won’t free me,’ he added.

  Isiah nodded, already knowing the answer to his next question. ‘Did you get the guys’ name?’

  ‘Him call himself Baker, but that not him name.’

  Samuel made an angry noise, fell silent again at Isiah’s glare. Isiah was just about to thank the old man and get the hell out of there when he felt the RealmShift. The Voodoo-Man felt it at the same instant, immediately began praying, mumbling rapidly under his breath. Isiah jumped up, stood in front of Samuel, who was just beginning to sense that something was up. Before he could ask any questions there was an intense feeling of pressure, smell of sulphur. The little room heated up quickly, uncomfortably. ‘Not again,’ Samuel muttered. ‘Please, not again.’

  With a roar like mountains being torn from the earth, Lucifer stepped from a rapidly expanding black circle into the room, his black hooves singeing the old carpet, smoke curling up around his dark, hairy legs. Isiah stepped between him and Samuel. The Voodoo-Man continued to mumble, not looking up from his hands. Samuel began to shake violently.

  The Devil’s voice was like flesh rotting in the sun. ‘Step aside, Interferer, or I will tear you apart. You are a fool to have come back here.’

  Isiah shook his head. ‘No, Lucifer. He’s mine.’

  The Devil struck out, his massive arm a black blur. Isiah was quicker, his own arm flying up, blocking the blow with a jarring impact. His other hand shot out, striking the Devil in the chest, driving him back. Satan’s roar was deafening. Isiah began gathering energy, wondering if this was finally the end. He would not go down without one hell of a fight.

  As the Devil raised his arms over his black, horned head, ready to strike down on Isiah, another voice cut through his roars. ‘You desecrate this Humfort, Lucifer!’

  The Devil snarled, his head swinging to face the newcomer. An old man, dressed in black, leaning on a gnarled cane, stood beside the Voodoo-Man’s armchair. He lifted his cane, pointing it threateningly at Satan. ‘You would not set foot in God’s churches without the restraint and respect He deserves, nor will you befoul this Humfort.’

  Lucifer growled, thunder in deep caves. ‘I will leave once I have this black soul, Legba.’ He pointed one black, sharp nailed hand at Samuel. ‘Do not block my path.’

  The Voodoo-Man stood up, stepping in front of Samuel. ‘You have to kill me to get him, Devil,’ he said, his voice strong.

  Isiah stepped back a pace, still blocking Lucifer’s path to Samuel while not standing between the Voodoo-Man, Legba and Satan. This could get very messy. He slowly edged his way nearer to Samuel.

  The Devil laughed. ‘What makes you think I have any qualms about wiping you from the face of this earth, Hungan?’

  The Voodoo-Man smiled. ‘Me wish you would, man. Me welcome the end to me life. It been hundreds of years too long already.’ Then he pointed to Legba. ‘But him won’t let you take me. Me got penance to serve.’

  Satan looked at Legba, who nodded. ‘He’s not allowed to die, Lucifer. Gede won’t ever dig him a grave.’ Isiah moved nearer to Samuel.

  The Devil roared, the sound shaking the windows in their frames. ‘I will have the human, Harrigan,’ he bellowed stepping forward, reaching for the Voodoo-Man.

  Legba stepped between them. ‘I will not allow it!’

  The Devil opened his dark mouth, roared at Legba, his huge arm striking out, lifting the old, crippled god high into the air. ‘You have no authority over me!’

  It was what Isiah had been waiting for. He let his gathered will flood out, diving on Samuel, and travelled. He heard Samuel’s cry of fear stretch away as they slid from the physical plane. Lucifer’s bellow of rage was louder.

  Isiah and Samuel reappeared deep in the city, in a quiet alleyway near Isiah’s most recent apartment. He briefly wondered if the landlord had discovered the molten floor in there yet. These encounters with Lucifer were getting more and more dangerous, and the Devil was getting more and more furious. There was a church a block or so away. He dragged Samuel along by his arm, heading for its sanctuary. They were not safe yet.

  Samuel was looking wildly about, stumbling along like a child in a supermarket. ‘Where the fuck are we?’

  ‘In the city. Come on, we have to get to a church.’

  As they rounded the end of the alley Samuel recognised the street, began running along beside Isiah, staggering slightly. ‘We’ll be safe there?’ His voice was desperate.

  ‘Yes,’ Isiah replied. ‘For a short while at least. Come on. When we get there, we’ll have to contact Baker.’

  A few minutes later, they burst through the doors of the large, old church, their frantic footsteps clattering loudly off the cool stone walls. Isiah closed the door behind them, glad that there was not a service in progress. He and Samuel walked to the front, slumped down on the first pew.

  Samuel leaned forward, gasping for breath. ‘For such a good body,’ he
said, ‘I sure lose my breath quick.’

  ‘Give it time, Samuel. It’ll come back on line properly after a while.’

  Samuel just nodded, then, ‘Want to tell me what the fuck all that was about?’

  Isiah took a deep breath. ‘The Voodoo-Man, as you call him, is a far more powerful man than you realise. He’s a Hungan, a voodoo priest, but he’s also very old. Like centuries old.’

  Samuel laughed. ‘Bullshit!’

  ‘You want me to explain or not?’

  Samuel shrugged. ‘Sorry, man, go on.’

  ‘The reason the Devil got you there is because voodoo priests believe in God and the Devil, from the Catholic church, as well as their own loa, their own pantheon of ancient African gods. As the Voodoo-Man believed in the Devil, he got to him through Legba, the chief god of the Voodoo-Man’s loa. The Voodoo-Man obeyed his god, Legba, therefore the desires of the Devil. But this time they got in a ruck and it gave us a chance to get away. We got lucky this time.’

  Samuel was thoughtful for a moment. ‘You keep on about belief.’

  ‘It’s the basis of everything there is. Stay here and I’ll call Baker.’

  Samuel leant back in the pew, rubbing his head. ‘Whatever, man. I ain’t going anywhere.’

  Isiah found a public phone on the corner of the next street. He dialled Baker’s contact number, his mind constantly scanning for any sign that Lucifer had tracked them down again. After a couple of rings there was a click, then silence. Isiah was not in the mood to play the game this time. ‘Put Baker on, now.’

  ‘Who is it?’

  ‘Tell him it’s Mr Smith.’

  There was a few seconds pause, then the unmistakable voice of Baker. ‘Mr Smith, I’ve been trying to call you.’

  ‘I’ve been out of town. What do you have?’

  ‘Well, I tracked our mutual friend’s movements to this crazy old bastard’s house across town. Samuel wasn’t there, but he left something behind. It’s not much, but it could be interesting.’