by Ifè Oshun
The sight of Dad, Mom, and Cici striding toward me answered that naive question right away. I excused myself and walked with my family to an empty side hallway off the main corridor. Cici handed me a thermos. I drank and opened my mind to allow her to see everything that happened while I was on stage. Seconds later, Dad joined my sister in gawking at me as if I'd just committed a terrorist act.
Mom was the odd man out. “What?” she asked. All she had to go on were the looks on our faces to know something massive had happened. Dad whispered rapidly in her ear. Her face registered bewilderment. “How do you know they were Council members and why were they the only ones not affected by the time freeze?” she asked.
I couldn't say why. I literally couldn't speak the words or show them with my thoughts anything that had to do with the Lady. It was as if there was a spell on me that prevented me from talking about her. “I can't say,” I answered.
Mom exhaled and then squared her shoulders with an air of resolution. “Your Mahá is now more crucial and we must start it as soon as possible,” she answered. “If, at your Mahá, you are branded a threat, the verdict will be passed. There would be nothing I can do to save you. For now, I will do damage control to stop the momentum of backlash that is sure to be brewing as we speak.”
And with that she disappeared. All I could do was gulp.
“This is grave news,” Dad said to me in a gentle tone, “and I am sorry you are hearing this on what should be one of the best nights of your life.”
“She reversed the freeze!” Cici’s voice sounded an octave higher than usual. “That must count for something in her favor.” He sadly shook his head “no.”
“What is most frustrating is we cannot assist you with this,” he said. “You will have to reign it in on your own so that your Mahá will find you able to turn it on and off at will. Otherwise, the consequences will be death for you. And possibly us for aiding and abetting.”
I felt sick. After all that we had been through, I ended up putting my family at risk anyway, and in a worse way than I could ever imagine. Was there no one who could help me? Help us?
“Mahá will last about five to seven mortal days,” Dad said. “Unfortunately, you’ll have to be absent from school.” Well, at least there was some light in this tunnel. “We’ll tell everyone that you’re on a family trip,” he added. “One designed to give you a chance to rest after all the excitement you have had recently.”
“Great, everyone’s going to think I had a nervous breakdown.”
“It’ll explain that scary solo,” Cici pointed out.
Whatever. I didn’t want Mahá; I just wanted to work on the tracks and see Sawyer again. But now it looked like I might die before getting a chance to do either. Through a red haze, I swore that if I saw the Lady again, I’d be ready to use my power to protect my family and put an end to her threat.
21. MAHÁ
The next morning we were at the Mahá house. “Your house,” Cici reminded me. We were sitting on the double-spiral staircase that opened to the grand foyer. I looked around, still amazed. With twenty-six bedrooms and Victorian architectural details, including a tower and turrets, it was more a mansion than a house.
Mom stood with PE’s Head of Decor and watched a couple of the mortal employees hang an enormous, cross-like object above the main entrance. I looked to Cici. That's the Yah. The official living symbol of our house as law for this Mahá. It’s a scary ancient thing. If a guest breaks the Law of the Mahá house, it’s the same as dissing the Yah. If you diss the Yah, it can somehow kill you with permission from the owner of the house.
Diss the Yah. Die. Got it.
Nearby, Dad was talking in Mandarin to an immaculately dressed Asian woman. “Who’s that?” I asked.
“An old friend of Dad’s and your personal stylist for the Mahá. She’ll make sure your makeup, jewelry, scent, hair will be perfect.”
A girl about my age bounced over, carrying a makeup case. “I'm Demeter, your makeup artist!” she trilled.
“Hi…”
“I’m your biggest fan!” She smiled widely, as if she wanted to say more, but Mandarin Woman laid a hand on her arm. “Well, nice meeting you, Angelika!” she said before being led away.
“RoRo!” Cici yelled suddenly. Without thinking, she flew out the door. The mortals in the room stood dumbfounded at what they’d just witnessed. Dad nodded at his apprentice Eric, who rapidly went to each one and touched them with a crooked wand I call “the erase stick.” As soon as I knew they had all forgotten what happened during the last one or two minutes, I went down to greet my oldest sister.
Of all of us, Aurora was probably the most aptly named. Her personal radiance competed with the sunlight streaming through the windows. Her smile was brilliant as she rushed to hug everyone. Her waist-length beaded braids jingled like bells as she stroked my hair and face. “You have grown so beautifully,” she said in a perfect, formal European accent. Her mate, Roman (they didn't use the mortal terms of husband and wife) came in, carrying their suitcases. He was one of those chilly vampires that walk in the sunlight.
Technically, he didn't have to be here, since Mahá is just for natural-born immortals, but he and Aurora never traveled apart from each other if they didn't have to. He was protective of her, and drawn by her innate warmth. She was addicted to his particular type of wildness and cold, deadly nature. It was a match made in heaven. He greeted us all with his thick Russian accent.
Suddenly, I was forcefully pushed from behind. Taken off-guard, I forgot Mom's charm-school lesson and broke into a low snarl as I whipped around.
Nobody was there...but there was the faint outline of a tall, masculine person...
“Adrian, cut it out,” Cici chided.
My brother appeared out of invisible mode. “Idiot!” I said, hugging his massive frame. He was my only non-Shimshana sibling, but he could change into any existing animal he wanted. At five hundred and eighty-one years of age, he was also still single, probably because he’d just returned from spending the last seventy years living as a turtle.
My oldest siblings, twin brothers Menelik and Memnon, arrived wrapped in flowing black robes. Silent and sullen, they looked as if they still lived in another millennium. I had met them briefly as a baby and now, at one thousand, eight hundred fifty-one years of age, they looked exactly the same as they had then. They moved as one person, and although they themselves were telepathically linked, they were not telepaths. They both knelt at Mom’s feet.
“D'qatsmaa Aemeh,” they said in stereo.
Aramaic for “divine mother.” They’re stuck in the past. They were traumatized when Tunde killed their Dad.
Their eyes rested on me. “Um, hi,” I said awkwardly.
“Hi,” they repeated the word back before they turned to look at each other with what looked like astonishment.
“I designed a family wing for us,” Cici told everyone. “Staff will help you settle in. The commencement ritual starts in an hour.” The staff hustled their luggage away to the service elevator and led them all up the main staircase.
Cici turned to me. “And as for you, it's time you got ready.” With that, she guided me to my private suite.
It was huge. A panel of windows and French doors faced the east and overlooked the Pacific Ocean. The bed was a canopy style (I’d always wanted one of those) with a wrought iron headboard featuring vines and angel faces. It was very elaborate, like something I'd seen on TV, and all the bedding was white and fluffy. There was an altar along the western wall, it was enclosed in an intricately carved cabinet that now had its doors flung open.
“Whoa,” was all I could say. Cici held herself proudly as I explored the room. It was three times the size of my bedroom at home. A small row of high, cross-shaped portholes let in natural light and fresh sea air. But it was the collection of clothes that knocked me for a loop. In the equally large dressing room, one entire wall was nothing but shoes from top to bottom. Attached to the walls were sliding ladde
rs for easy access to the upper shelves.
“They're separated by color and function,” Cici offered. “You've got your kicks here, heels, flip-flops for the beach party, slides...This wall over here is all ceremonial and ritual gear.”
There were long flowing traditional garments and capes. One in particular caught my eye, and I recognized the midnight blue fabric Mom had picked out. I ran my hand along its exquisite purple, gold, and silver embroidery. There was even a section of jewelry, and some of it looked very old. Amulets, headdresses, bracelets, rings, necklaces. My head was spinning.
“This wall over here is non-ceremonial clothing,” Cici said while pointing to sections with dresses, drawers full of cool comfortable underthings, bikinis, t-shirts, shorts, skirts.
“I feel like I'm in a store. Am I really going to wear all this stuff?”
“You're sure gonna try,” Cici said while pulling out a white dress. “Jump in the shower. There's a special soap in there. Make sure the water's really hot to open up your pores.”
The bathroom had a ginormous window overlooking the ocean and a tub that was big enough for a small family. Marble was everywhere, and candles were lighted, despite the time of day. I inhaled the soothing aroma of burning sage and stepped into the double shower. The soap—some sort of homemade herbal concoction—smelled amazing, and I breathed in the relaxing scent. When I was done, I dried off and went back into the dressing room.
Cici, Aurora, and Mom were there, all in white sheath dresses that flowed down to just above their ankles. They were all barefoot. Opera lilted through the suite via strategically placed wireless speakers. Incense wafted through the air.
Mom first rubbed me down with oils from pretty, colored glass bottles, then handed me my dress, a red bra, and red panties. “The red undergarments represent the life force, the blood,” she explained. “White is the new beginning that is your immortal life.”
“I'll do your makeup,” Aurora said as she readied a pot of black for my eyes. Meanwhile, Cici started styling my hair. I closed my eyes and concentrated on my breathing.
“There is no need to panic, Angel,” Aurora reassured. “This ritual will just be us. All of your immediate family members. It is the first ceremony that will open the door for the Mahá. It hasn't changed since Mom's Mahá. Except, perhaps, they did not have red thongs back then.”
I heard the smile in her voice and imagined Mom's glance. I giggled softly, or at least as much as I could while she applied lip liner. Soon they were finished with their administrations. I opened my eyes. Cici flipped a switch and the part of the wall that was covered with black velvet rolled back to reveal a wall-length mirror. The mirror was set in a simple, yet elegant, gold frame. At the top was the head of Hathor, the Egyptian goddess of fertility and beauty. But it was my reflection that startled me. I looked like an ancient Egyptian princess.
Mom tied a red sash around my waist. Cici attached something that looked like a tiny garter belt to my right upper arm. The belt sported a pouch, into which Aurora placed a small dagger. “At the end of our ritual,” Cici said, “you’ll slit your wrist and allow seven drops of blood into the goblet.”
“Why seven?”
“You are my seventh child,” Mom said.
She placed an amulet around my neck. Hung on a thin gold chain, it was breathtaking in its detail. It depicted a pyramid before a rising sun, a falcon with outstretched wings and the head of a lion. There were ancient Nubian words inscribed on it. It was our family seal. I read the words out loud. “Power. Protection. Loyalty. Forever.”
There were tears in Mom’s eyes. She brought my head to her breast. “My child. You are a baby no more. And I will never call you baby again. My body releases you. My baby is dead.”
She gently pushed me away then and let out a long whooping wail, which was soon echoed by my sisters. Their wails were the primal female howls of mourning, and evoked the sadness felt by women when the youngest child dies. These emotions overcame me and I wailed, too. My voice reverberated throughout the house.
Soon Cici and Aurora were crying hysterically as Mom babbled in an unrecognizable language. I heard others within the house respond; Dad, our male siblings, and the staff all stopped what they were doing, and soon other women throughout the house were wailing without knowing why. The walls began to vibrate with the despair in my voice. I had to stop. I withdrew the sound waves, sucked them back into me gradually until the room, the women, and the house returned to a normal vibration.
Mom exhaled long and hard, and we all followed her lead. Our dresses were spotted with red tears. “It is good,” Mom said. I noticed the drops on my own dress. She waved a finger and the red lifted out of the fabric. “No blood on you. Not yet.”
“It's time,” Cici said.
The family congregated in the great room. Dad and my brothers wore traditional, white Egyptian-Nubian kilts that stopped just above the knee. Even the twins wore white. Bare-chested, they all wore skullcaps, from which hung the eye of Horus in the middle of the forehead, similar to the skullcaps worn by Mom and my sisters. They wore heavier gold necklaces featuring our family seal. We all had the red armlets and small daggers. A small alter draped in white bore a gold bowl, a single white candle, and fresh white flowers.
Mom led me to Dad, who took my hands in his. We stood facing each other before the Yah, which now also bore our family seal. There was no one else in the house but us. I could hear the musical hum of Dad's wall of protection surrounding the entire property. We were all together as a family for the first time in my existence.
Dad was very calm, but his baby had died, too. My eyes welled up again. “My dear,” he said, “you are embarking on the road of forever. Know that your family is your life. Know that we are one. We are bound together for eternity.”
He faced the Yah and extended his hand to it. He spoke the ancient Nubian words inscribed on our seal. “Power. Protection. Loyalty. Forever.”
My brothers extended their hands toward the Yah and repeated the chant. They then formed a circle around me and in a mighty voice chanted, “As one!” with their fists together over my head.
Dad stayed in his spot, hand extended to the Yah. Mom and my sisters entered the circle and joined my brothers. Reaching their hands over my head, they spoke the Nubian words together. “Power. Protection. Loyalty. Forever.” They stepped back and formed a circle around my brothers and me.
“Daughter of light, drinker of life,” Mom said in English. “We welcome you.”
“This house is protected,” Dad said, also in English. “This family is the law. And so it is.” His magic was so thick the air vibrated in the key of E. “Aamiyn,” he exclaimed in Aramaic. An ice-blue stream of energy shot from his hand into the Yah, which ignited as if on blue fire and began to glow steadily.
“Aamiyn!” we all repeated.
Dad pulled his knife and cut his wrist. He let the blood flow into the bowl. Mom followed suit, and then my siblings, in order of age. I was the last. When I was done, the bowl was passed around in the same order. Everybody sipped and then the rest was used to anoint my forehead and the Yah.
Then it was over, and I was literally flying back up the stairs with Cici. As we made our way back into the closet, the sounds of staff filled the house again and the band started a sound check. Cici led me to the dressing room dais. “Stand on this,” she said. She then pointed to a forest green brocade gown, richly embroidered and shot through with gold thread. “Your receiving gown. One of the most important pieces of clothing for the Mahá.”
A knock at the door revealed Mandarin Woman with her team. “We have her,” she said to Cici. “The rest of your family is ready.”
Cici turned toward the door. Wait! I yelled in my head. It was all happening too fast. She hesitated at the door, casual enough so no one would realize we were having a telepathic conversation. I just wanted to say I love you. I'm so glad you’re my sister.
Her smile was brilliant as she turned to face me. I’ll ne
ver call you Bighead again. “I'll see you soon, little sister,” she said out loud.
And with that the style team commenced to rapidly dress, makeup, and hair me until I didn't recognize myself.
22. BE MY GUESTS
I sat on a throne in the receiving hall, a large multifunctional room off the waiting area. My gown, traditional and royal, was breathtaking, and my hair was done in a complex up-do and topped by a delicate gold crown. I felt as stiff as a board.
Guests filed neatly into a formal procession as they greeted me from a line that seemed to stretch forever. Many were familiar faces I recognized from Cici's Mahá pics, and many were total strangers.
My grandparents were the first, as was their right. Looking like they were in their early 30s, they dumped a small mountain of presents at my feet before moving on. Then came aunts, uncles, cousins, and more cousins. Cici's boyfriend Satchel flashed me a friendly grin, then proceeded down the line. But no one leaned in to hug me or shake my hand.
It's forbidden for anyone outside the immediate family to touch a newborn before the ceremonies commence. Cici explained. That way no one gets hurt, or into anything unexpected.
I remembered the way I snarled at her when I'd first woken up and felt my face burn with shame.
Don't worry about it. You should have been there when I woke up.
She placed that memory, from her point of view, in my mind: she was flying over Beacon Hill, while below Dad frantically cast invisibility spells to keep her from being seen and Mom set up force fields to keep her from going too far. I stifled a laugh.
A guy with long hair that rose on his head in a cone-shaped afro stood before me. He wore trendy gear, like he'd just stepped out of a music video. In fact, the last time I saw him, he was in a video. He was Little Wolf, one of the most popular rappers on the charts. He grinned wickedly before bending to kiss my hand and dropping it quickly, putting his hands up in a posture of surrender as my brothers instantly surrounded him. The guests pretended they weren't staring, even as the line grinded to a halt.