Zamani

by Angelic Rodgers

  As she fed on Silas, she realized that donors had to keep barriers up or they’d have no private identity or life to themselves. She saw flashes of Silas’ life--both moments of bliss and moments of despair. And she saw what had driven him to seek her and Zofia out. He’d recently split from a lover who’d cheated on him rather than having the decency to leave. He’d found her in his bed with another man. Rather than cancel their plans for a trip to New Orleans, he’d arrived alone and set out to forget her.

  And he had chosen Sasha--he wasn’t aware of it, but it was that reckless despair that had drawn her to him. She took comfort in the thought that she was helping him move past the hurt and betrayal.

  But she wouldn’t take him past it all. She could sense him wanting her to end him, to just let him slip off into the ether, but she pulled away, just as Zofia was about to stop her. She pulled back from him and kissed him on the lips softly, leaving a blush of his own blood on his lips. “Sweet Silas, you’re better off without her.”

  She and Zofia led him to the bed and made him comfortable. He was sleeping peacefully as they slid out the door and back into the night.

  Zofia still had to feed, and she wanted Sasha to have time to reflect, as well. She knew that this was the first time that Sasha had been in the outside world on her own since her awakening, and now that she was well-fed she would not desperately seek out prey.

  “You did very well; you are welcome to join me as I hunt so I may feed, or you are certainly welcome to occupy yourself.” She gave Sasha one of the keys for their Suite at the Monteleone. “This is our home base, and we can catch up once we’re done for the night. I sense you are ready for a some time on your own.”

  Sasha nodded. Zofia kissed her on the cheek, surprising Sasha with her sudden warmth and affection. “You should be fine since you’ve fed. That doesn’t mean you can’t feed more or occupy yourself however you please, but since your initial hunger has been sated you should be able to roam freely.”

  “I do feel more like myself than I have since Lucy found me; I also understand now why it was so important for me to feed so soon. Thank you, Zofia, for helping me.”

  Zofia smiled and stepped into the light pedestrian traffic on Conti and quickly disappeared, headed back into the heart of the Quarter.

  As she wandered in the same direction that Zofia had gone, Sasha wondered again where Liz was and what she was doing tonight. She thought she might go by The Ruby in case Liz was tending bar, but first she wanted to make sure she wasn’t recognizable. She headed toward Canal in hopes of some of the souvenir shops being open and selling masks. She was in luck, as several of the shops were still well-stocked with cheap masks and costume accessories. She picked the best mask she could find, one with fine feathers and the least amount of sequins and glitter. It fit her well and covered all but her mouth and chin. She picked up a shiny, gaudy red lipstick as well, something she’d never have worn as Alex.

  She felt more comfortable strolling through the Quarter with the mask on. She’d dressed simply for the evening and earlier had felt underdressed and exposed among the costumed revelers. Now she felt as if she didn’t stand out quite so much. She decided to test the waters by heading down to Oz where she used to tend bar before going to The Ruby. She knew the boys would be too distracted by each other to pay mind to a woman alone, so she felt she could fade into the background even if she saw some of the regulars in the bar from when she worked there.

  She’d guessed correctly that the boy bars on the end of Bourbon would be full to capacity. She did manage to squeeze her way up to the bar and order a drink from the bartender.

  It felt good to be in a familiar setting and to feel completely free. The loud thumping of the music and the energy the patrons gave off were comforting and energizing at the same time. The bartender asked if she’d like another, and she nodded. That was when she heard Kirby’s voice behind her. She felt herself jump, at first worried that he had recognized her, but then quickly realizing that he’d never know from the back of her newly blonde head that it was her, especially since he thought she was dead. She relaxed and looked over her shoulder.

  She’d assumed that Kirby was right behind her, his voice had been so clear. Instead, he was several feet away, separated from her by several bar patrons. He was talking to Mike, and it was clear from their body language that they were still quite enamored of each other. She was glad for them both. Mike had been so torn up over Tim’s death, and the new relationship with Kirby was good for him. And Kirby had never taken to someone the way he had Mike. She saw a similar affinity between them to that she’d had with Liz in the early days of their relationship.

  She turned back to her drink, not wanting to be obvious about staring at them. She closed her eyes and concentrated on listening, picking their voices out from the loud music and the hum of the crowd.

  “Everything just happened so fast; I know that it’s best for her to get away for awhile, but it feels like I lost both of them,” Kirby said.

  Mike put his hand on Kirby’s shoulder. “It’s hard enough for us to stay in the house, even though we had the room cleaned, and I know Wren is not coming back for us. I’m glad we have my apartment as an escape. And, while there was room for all of us in my apartment in the short term, it’s better she’s with her dad.” He paused and reassured Kirby that Liz would return once she’d had some time.

  Sasha finished her drink and left cash on the bar to cover her tab and leave a nice tip. She wanted to see Liz, but now she felt a sense of relief that it wouldn’t be a case of running into her on the street. They both needed time to process what had happened and to move forward. She decided to steer clear of The Ruby. Instead she headed into the Marigny and toward her old house. Knowing that Kirby and Mike weren’t likely to disturb her and that Liz was gone, she decided to take a look at the place where Wren ended life as Alex knew it.

  As she left the Quarter behind and crossed Esplanade, she could hear some of the people inside their apartments and houses winding down for the night, strains of music of all kinds drifting on the night air. The house she’d shared with Liz, though, was silent and dark when she reached it. She wondered how long there had been the bright yellow crime scene tape or if they’d even really bothered with it.

  She slid around to the back of the house, which was a typical single-family shotgun style cottage. Just as she hoped and expected, she found the spare key in its old hiding spot, shoved in the dirt in the middle hanging fern. She slid the key in the kitchen door lock and let herself in. For a moment she stood still in the kitchen, listening to the house. She’d never really believed in ghosts or residual energy, but now that she was one of the undead, she was reconsidering. The house felt different than before, but she wasn’t sure if it was truly the house or if she was so amped up that she was imagining the difference.

  She moved through the house, making her way from room to room; if it weren’t for the fact that she’d have to explain herself, which likely would go over poorly and end in arrest and possible commitment to the psychiatric ward, she could have just moved back in. Nothing of hers had been disturbed, as far as she could tell. Her clothes were still hanging in the closet, minus a couple of her favorite shirts. She figured Liz packed them and took them with her.

  The bed was made and she could just make out the smell of Liz’s shampoo on the pillows. She longed to slide between the sheets and sleep until Liz came home to wake her up and laugh at her crazy dream that she’d been made a vampire.

  She moved to the nightstand on Liz’s side of the bed. She opened the drawer and found what she was looking for--a pair of sapphire studs. She’d given them to Liz for her birthday their first year together, and Liz loved to wear them on date nights and special occasions. She was surprised Liz hadn’t worn them for the memorial service, but now she was glad that they were in the drawer. She pocketed one of them and left the other behind.

  She looked around, trying to find paper to write a note. It was her only wa
y to say goodbye. She couldn’t leave it in an obvious place, but she wanted to be sure that Liz found it. She finally decided to leave it under the remaining earring. She kept it simple:

  Liz, know that you are well loved. Alex

  She slipped the note in, and she pushed the drawer not quite closed.

  Then, she slipped through the dark rooms and out the back door, returning the key to its ferny hiding spot. She took long strides to put distance between herself and the house. She walked with her hands in her pockets, her fingertips just brushing the sapphire stud.

  Electric Ladyland was open still on Frenchmen Street. She wandered in and talked with the piercer on duty about an auricle piercing. He wasn’t thrilled that she insisted on the stud in her pocket rather than buying a piece of jewelry from the shop, and he warned her that the post really should be bigger than the one on the earring she brought in, but she persuaded him it would be fine. She didn’t want him to sterilize it, wishing to keep the contact with Liz’s DNA that was likely left on the post, and he was easily persuaded once she exerted just the right amount of mental control over him. A single tear rolled down her face as he slid the needle expertly through skin and cartilage before placing the stud. It was a tear of sorrow, not of pain.

  By the time she made her way back to The Monteleone, her ear was healed. She had more drinks at the bar, hoping to get drunk enough to pass out but only managing a really good buzz. She decided that would have to be enough and went up the suite and slept.

  Chapter Thirteen

  As with all holidays and feast days, New Orleans takes the Day of the Dead and gives it extra flair. Among the various parades and second lines that popped up in the city the Bywater hosed one complete with a marching band and revelers with their faces painted skull white. Those attracted many tourists and the uninitiated. For Voodoo practitioners and adherents there are also “Dumb Suppers” and Voodoo rituals to honor the dead.

  Sasha woke up to Zofia staring at her. She wondered if the other woman had said anything or touched her; she literally felt as if her stare was palpable. Neither woman said anything as Sasha sat up in the hotel bed and rubbed her eyes.

  Zofia finally broke the silence. “Good morning, or I should say afternoon. I know you could have made it home easily last night, but I wanted you to myself today; Lucy will get you back soon enough. Tonight, we will honor the dead among people who don’t fear them.” She stood and opened the closet door where she had hung outfits for the two of them, ritual white with purple head scarves. “While I am not a practitioner of Voodoo, I do appreciate the beauty of the religion, so we will dress appropriately.”

  They took a cab to get closer to the ritual spot, which was in the Bywater, close to the Mississippi River. While this was a public ritual, it was not a tourist spectacle. The ceremony had been going on in the same spot for as long as anyone could remember. Some claim the original Marie Laveau herself started the tradition, and others argue it began even before her by her mentor and teacher Maman Dede. Zofia told the story to Sasha in the back of the cab, the driver listening to her, too, both of them as silent and attentive as children listening to a new bedtime story. Sasha could sense the driver knew the story, but he was happy to hear a new version.

  He dropped them near the ritual location at a storefront. Zofia led Sasha into the store where she bought packs of cigarettes, candy, flowers, and a bottle of rum for the altar. “Normally, I would have prepared well ahead of time, but this will do.” She led Sasha a few more blocks until they reached the ritual space. As they neared it, they could hear voices and under the buzz, the sound of a lone drum, beating out an infectious, hypnotic rhythm. Sasha felt herself speed up her steps as the drumming caught her up.

  The ritual space was an alleyway. Despite the nearness of the Bywater to the Marigny, Sasha had no idea that this place existed, but it obviously had for some time, as there were Veves painted on the walls of the wide alley and many of them were quite old. They were pale and ghostly compared to the others that were obviously fresh. Past the Veves and paintings of skulls and the distinctive figure of Papa Legba was an altar overflowing with offerings. Zofia and Sasha laid their gifts among the others.

  When Zofia offered Sasha the outfit of white and showed her how to tie the headscarf, she’d felt strange, but now she was glad for the anonymity and that she looked like the other attendees. She was intoxicated by the energy in the space. For the first time since her awakening, she felt fully connected to something, her feet firmly grounded. Up until she fed from Silas the night before she’d been detached. While her time with Steph was physically pleasing, she’d felt numb to emotion. She also realized why Zofia had brought her here; the people were open like conduits. Like her own mind had been when she first awoke, all of the minds here were open, and all egos were set aside so they could listen. Something about the energy and the rhythm created by the drums created a trancelike state--even with the sounds, it was quiet in a way that Sasha had not experienced since she awoke. And through those conduits, she could feel again.

  The drumming stopped. Sasha saw a beautiful woman in front of the altar that created the end boundary of the alleyway. She looked young to Sasha, but she gave off the sense of having great power. She was also dressed in white and purple, but she seemed to truly belong in the skirt and head scarf. For a moment, Sasha felt silly in her outfit—like a kid playing dress up next to the regal woman at the altar--but the feeling passed quickly as the woman began to speak.

  “I want to thank all of you for joining us for the Ceremony of the Ghede. I am Vivienne Garnier, and I will be officiating the ceremony tonight. Most of you know my grandmother, who will be joining us tonight, Marie Garnier. She welcomes you too but has asked that I speak to you tonight. My brother, Christophe, will lead the drummers, and you’ve been called here by his drum already.” As she mentioned Marie and Christophe, she motioned toward them. Sasha saw the family resemblance immediately. She also noticed that while Marie’s and Vivienne’s minds were completely closed off to her, Christophe’s was chaotic and disordered. She felt as if he was staring right at her, despite the people between them.

  Vivienne continued to speak, but Sasha only heard parts of what she said as she was focused on Christophe, trying to figure out why he was so different from everyone else around her. She felt Zofia grab her hand and squeeze it and she came back to herself, pulling herself together. She heard Zofia’s voice in her mind tell her she felt it too: there is another vampire among them and he is obviously not well trained, as he has no clear control. That’s why his mind is so disorganized. Focus on Vivienne.

  “Tonight we honor the dead and ask them to dance with us.” As Vivienne said this, the drumming started again. As Christophe led the drummers into the rhythm, Sasha noticed that his mind cleared. She felt great relief, sliding back into the quiet that the music created. Those around her started to dance, and she and Zofia slid even further to the edges of the crowd. As she watched the dancers undulate and spin, she felt pure joy for the first time since her awakening.

  The dancers were also caught up. As the drumming increased, someone started singing in Creole, and others picked up the song, their voices rising in unison. Sasha couldn’t understand the words, but the song was beautiful. She felt a sensation of slipping aside, letting her guard down again and opening up. Zofia clasped her hand and pulled her toward the street, away from the altar and back out into the night.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Christophe was aware of a strange energy at the ceremony as his sister offered remembrances of those they lost in the last year at the opening of the ritual. He was lost in the drumbeats when they entered, and as his sister talked, he picked her out of the crowd. She really didn’t look different from the other attendees. He couldn’t explain it, but he felt drawn to her in much the same way he had felt drawn to Olivia the first time he’d seen her. He felt the same sort of control and raw power, too, as her eyes met his.

  He wondered if anyone else felt it
. He was relieved to start drumming again and to turn off his mind, letting himself go. Later, as the dancing stopped and the feast began, Christophe realized the woman was gone. While her absence was on one level comforting, he also felt a loss and confusion. He’d never known anyone other than Olivia to have that attraction for him, and he hadn’t questioned her power over him. Who was this woman and why was he so drawn to her?

  Later, as he loaded the drums and helped Vivienne get their grandmother home, he felt frustrated over his role in everything. While his sister was a Mambo, his family had never invested enough interest in him to allow him to train as a Houngan. To be fair, Christophe had never shown the calling, but he wondered at times if that was because it wasn’t encouraged. Vivienne was not much older than he, yet his earliest memory of her was that she was always encouraged to learn—first at their mother Rosalie’s skirts, then at University and through her travels, and finally now from their grandmother. He was always the help in the family--there to drum, there to help load equipment, there to drive Marie to appointments.

  With Olivia, things were different at first; she’d let him feel powerful, teasing him into believing he was the one who chose her--that he was the one who enthralled and seduced her. That feeling of power over her changed when she asked him to make Tim Clark his first solo feed. He would rather have chosen his own mark, but she’d been insistent. he owed her this favor, she claimed, and he had no choice. At the time, he thought perhaps she was jealous and she couldn’t stand if he chose another woman as his first mark. In the months since Tim Clark’s death, she’d had no problem allowing him to choose who he fed from. Her ambivalence made it clear to Christophe that her choice was based on her own agenda, not some need to feel she was the only woman in his bed.