Spellbound: a Tale of Magic, Mystery & Murder

by Louise Ann Barton

CHAPTER 8 -THE JOURNEY

  When Ramon set off on his fateful journey, it was under the protection of his personal gods. As a child of Chango, The King, the orisha who commanded fire, thunder, and lightning, Ramon had control of power, passion, and his enemies. And so, Ramon wore a necklace of red-and-white stones to proclaim his devotion to Chango.

  He was also protected by Eleggua, the all-powerful orisha who commanded the crossroads to the other orishas, those who held sway over fate and the unexpected. Thus, Ramon wore a second necklace of red-and-black beads to celebrate his alliance with Eleggua. Now that he fancied himself a Santero of highest rank, Ramon fashioned the five-and-two-equals-seven necklace he’d seen others wear. Without waiting to have this badge of rank formally presented to him, Ramon raised it to his neck and, much like Napoleon, he crowned himself.

  Hours passed and the young sorcerer drove steadily along the winding, dirt roads with his mind’s eye fixed on his purpose. He moved along in the old Chevy, expertly avoiding the deep ruts. But he drove without seeing the beautiful, tropical, Dominican landscape, without realizing or caring that, as lovely as the countryside was, there were no songbirds singing in the trees. But, of course, this was because the local folk were hungry, so hungry that they ate any small birds they could find. And so, there were none left to sing.

  By now the little Chevy was so covered with mud and dust that its original color was indiscernible to the casual observer. Ramon stopped driving only once, just long enough to eat the lunch he’d packed and to spray himself with insect repellent. Then he pressed on to the tiny village of Liberte by the Haitian border.

  To his great delight, he came upon it just before dark, finding it exactly as described in his mother’s book. He pulled up under a palm tree beside a tiny shack and turned off the engine. Several feet away, three men were sitting on old kitchen chairs by the side of the road, chatting and sipping beer in the growing twilight.

  As Ramon emerged from the Chevy, all heads turned in his direction and conversation ceased abruptly. The men viewed the newcomer suspiciously, but something about the stranger’s manner warned them to keep their counsel. Ramon sprayed himself and his clothing again, then strolled over to the little shack that passed for a store. He paused for a moment, pushed his straw hat back, and wiped at his damp forehead with the back of his hand.

  "Hot!" Ramon exclaimed as he leaned over the counter, the better to read the beer labels. "Si! Si!" the vendor agreed. "Presidente," ordered Ramon.

  The vendor opened the bottle and passed it across the counter. Ramon paid the man and lifted the bottle. Tilting his head back he began pouring the cold, foamy liquid down his parched throat. It had been a long, dusty drive and Ramon was very thirsty. Before he knew it, he'd swallowed most of the beer. He smiled, raising his beer to salute the men on the chairs. They began to smile in response, slowly at first, then laughed aloud. They, too, raised their bottles in salute.

  Ramon took another sip of beer and strolled over. "My mother told me of this village." He paused to give them time to absorb the news. "She knew of it from stories my grandparents would tell," he added at last. The men nodded in response. "She told me many wonderful stories about Liberte," he continued, "always beginning with making sure I knew that there were two Libertes. One on this side of the border and one in Haiti." The men nodded again. "I have driven a long way to visit," Ramon said.

  Two small boys in cut-off shorts came up behind him. They were dragging another old kitchen chair. The taller boy tugged at Ramon’s sleeve to get his attention. The other smiled shyly and offered him the seat. Ramon accepted the chair, noting two of the rungs were missing. He sat down gingerly, facing the men. The chair was wobbly, but it held his weight. Ramon relaxed in the seat, sipping the remainder of his beer, while the men chatted and, from time to time, waved away a persistent gnat.

  The boys sank down on the grass beside their grandfather, a wrinkled, gray-haired man in a torn, white undershirt. The old man smiled down at them and patted their heads roughly until the boys giggled.

  "My mother often told me of a tree. A very large tree, said to be of great age," Ramon remarked. "It was oddly shaped," he continued, positioning his body in imitation of the crooked tree described in his book. The men nodded. They knew of the tree.

  "Straight into the woods, about a 20-minute walk, that way," said the grandfather in the undershirt. He smiled a nearly toothless grin and pointed in the direction of the tree.

  Ramon nodded. "And my family told of a river. A river of many stones. Do you know where this river is?" he asked.

  "Si!" said a man wearing a faded Disney tee shirt. He rose and pointed his beer bottle to Ramon’s left. "At the bottom of the hill, but you do not want to go to the tree," he added, sinking back down.

  Ramon didn’t respond at first. He sat on the wobbly chair and regarded the speaker with a cool stare. The man in the Disney tee shirt was the first to break eye contact. The men glanced furtively at each other, then stared at Ramon. Ramon returned their stares. The men looked away again. The children twisted around to hide their faces from Ramon’s gaze.

  "Why," began Ramon in a slow, even voice, "do I not want to go to the tree?"

  The old man shifted in his seat and waved one hand as if pushing something away. Disney tee shirt leaned forward and started to say something, but apparently thought better of it and changed his mind.

  Ramon signaled the vendor to bring another round for him and his friends. The vendor opened the bottles and brought them over, foam overflowing and splashing onto the ground as he walked. Each man took a beer and thanked Ramon, who nodded and paid the vendor. He waited until the bottles had been half-emptied before he put his question to them again. "Why," he asked in a low, clear voice, "do I not want to go to the tree?"

  The men leaned back in their chairs and shrugged. Alcohol had dulled their response time and made them mellow. Ramon asked again, "Why do I not want to go to the tree?"

  "Because," began the man in the striped, sports shirt.

  "Because?" Ramon prompted.

  "Ah, yes," the man began again.

  Ramon was losing his patience. "Because?" he asked more sharply.

  The men looked at their feet in embarrassment, wiggling their bare toes.

  "It is not a good place to go," Disney tee shirt whispered.

  "Something is there, Seńor," said a child’s voice.

  Ramon strained his eyes to see the speaker, but the little boy pressed so closely to his grandfather’s chair that he was lost in the shadows. "Someone?"

  "No," insisted the old man, "Something . . . something is there!"

  "We do not speak of it," cautioned Disney tee shirt.

  Ramon turned toward the shack and called out to the vendor. "Two cokes for my small friends!" The vendor snapped off the caps, then trotted over and handed two chilled bottles to the children. Ramon paid the man and settled back in the wobbly chair. The smaller boy quickly began gulping down the soda.

  "You can’t see it, Seńor," whispered the older boy.

  "It killed Felix," chimed in the other child.

  "Felix died because he was foolish," his grandfather admonished. He cuffed at the boy’s head. The old man stared at Ramon and weighed his words carefully before speaking. "No one goes there because a man was killed there."

  Ramon leaned forward with interest. "How did he die, old one?" he demanded.

  "He was a foolish boy," insisted the old man.

  "He died because he believed an old story," said Disney tee shirt.

  Ramon was a man of little patience and his voice took on a strange sharpness. "What? What old story? I must know!" he demanded.

  "He was foolish in the head," insisted the old man, tapping a finger to his temple.

  "He believed he could call on a demon . . . a terrible demon," added the man in the striped sports shirt.

  "Felix believed this creature would grant his every wish," murmured the grandfather.

  "So this crazy, young man stol
e his own nephew. His sister’s son. Just a little boy. Only five years old. Felix took him by night to the tree," added Disney tee-shirt.

  Ramon realized he was trembling. He leaned forward in his chair until he was almost touching the old man. "What happened then?"

  "Felix was going to offer his nephew to the demon. As food!" said the old man. He paused. No one spoke and there was no sound save that of the old man’s labored breathing.

  Ramon’s mind raced in horror. He knew anyone who performed the ceremony to bargain with the Baka ran the risk of being destroyed. It took only one mistake! If he called on the Baka and made the same mistake Felix had . . .

  "Then the demon is real," Ramon began.

  The men interrupted with murmured denials. "We know nothing of Felix’s demon," they insisted and nothing Ramon said could make them change their minds.

  "And the boy? He was given to the demon?" asked Ramon.

  The old man shook his head. "The boy said his uncle had struck him with a fist, so he lost consciousness. But when Felix spat rum on the child to mark him as a sacrifice, the boy recovered. While Felix was calling on his demon, the little one managed to crawl away. The boy began to run back. Back to his mother. But he tripped over a stone and fell. The boy struck his head," said the grandfather pointing to his own forehead.

  "He was very small, you see, and so he lay there on the ground. A tiny figure. So small that when Felix realized the child was gone and began to search, he could not find him," volunteered Disney tee shirt.

  "Si, the boy was covered by the brush," added the man in the striped shirt, "and his uncle was frantic!"

  "Si! Si!" agreed the old man. "Felix believed he had called on a demon that would destroy him if he did not have an offering for it."

  "Felix screamed!" insisted the smaller boy. "He kept screaming at the demon."

  "Did you hear what he was screaming?" Ramon asked.

  The old man nodded vigorously. "Felix was telling the demon that it was supposed to take the boy. Not him. He screamed it over and over. I heard him." The men nodded and striped shirt continued the narrative. "The noise woke us up. We all ran out to see what was happening. Then Yadira, sister of Felix, discovered her child was missing."

  Disney tee shirt took up the story. "Yes, she would have thought the child was still nearby. Just restless and not able to sleep. Then she realized her brother was screaming in the woods. She could hear what he was screaming."

  "Everyone ran into the woods," continued the old man. "They ran in the direction of the screaming."

  "Toward the tree?" asked Ramon.

  "Toward the tree!" insisted the old man.

  "And?" Ramon prompted.

  "And we found Felix!" the old man sobbed.

  Ramon gestured to the vendor for another round. As soon as the men had gulped down more beer, Ramon repeated the question. "And then? Was he dead?" The old man slowly raised the bottle to his mouth. Ramon waited impatiently until he could wait no longer. The question snapped from his lips.

  "How did he die, old man?"

  "Attacked by an animal, we thought," volunteered Disney tee shirt.

  "The body was . . . torn to pieces. Parts of Felix were scattered all over the forest floor," added the man in the striped shirt.

  "An animal ate him!" exclaimed the smaller boy, jumping around and making growling noises as he pawed the air with imaginary claws. Ramon turned pale.

  "Hush! You weren’t there," admonished the grandfather wagging his finger at the boy. "You weren’t born yet." The man turned back to Ramon.

  "But it is as the boy says," Disney tee shirt muttered.

  "Something had bitten Felix. Torn out big chunks of his flesh with its teeth."

  Ramon shuddered. "He must have suffered greatly before he died." The men nodded and sipped the beer. "But the boy was safe?" Ramon asked.

  The men nodded in agreement.

  "We could not find him. We searched everywhere. Then he woke up and began crying for his mother," said the old man.

  "And he told you what happened?" asked Ramon.

  "Si! But there was no demon," persisted Disney tee shirt.

  "How can you be so sure, old man?" growled Ramon.

  The old man related the rest of his tale patiently, as if speaking to a child. "We know because the missionary lady came here the following day. This missionary often came here to teach us. She taught us many things."

  "She taught us about Jesus. She said there was no demon," insisted the man in the striped shirt.

  "Then how did she explain how Felix died?" demanded Ramon.

  "She said it had to have been done by an animal. Because of the bites. Because of the claw marks," said Disney tee shirt.

  Ramon sneered. "What animal do you have around here that kills like that?" He took a mouthful of beer. The men shook their heads. Ramon argued with them, but they stood firm. They didn’t know which animal had done the killing, but they insisted the man had been killed by an animal, not a demon.

  There had never been a demon. On this they agreed. Ramon leaned back in his chair and sighed.

  "Even so, no one ever goes to the tree any more," said Disney tee-shirt.

  "Because you are afraid of the animal?" asked Ramon.

  The men shrugged. "We just don’t go," they repeated.

  "And Yadira and the boy? What became of them?" asked Ramon.

  "The boy’s parents took their children and went to live with relatives. Somewhere over there," said the old man. He waved his hand in the direction Ramon had traveled.

  Ramon perked up. "Do you know which village they moved to?" he asked.

  The men discussed this for a moment. "It was so many years ago," the old man replied. "They had relatives near Santiago." He thought for a moment while Ramon squirmed in his seat. "And relatives in Cristo, I think," the old man murmured.

  "Did Yadira have other children besides the nephew?" Ramon inquired.

  "Just one. A daughter," said the old man.

  Ramon pressed forward. "Do you recall her name?" The old man wrinkled his forehead in thought. Finally, he replied. "Julia. I think it was Julia."

  "Why?" asked striped shirt. "Did you know her?"

  "No," lied Ramon. "No, I did not know her. Perhaps my mother did."

  The old man gestured proudly to the smaller boy. "This is one of Julia’s cousins." He caught up his grandson and sat the boy on his lap. To Ramon’s great delight, the boy resembled Julia, his mother. The same nose! And eyes! Ramon smiled broadly. His mother’s name had been Julia, his grandmother’s name Yadira. If this small boy was truly a blood relation, his first sacrifice had been provided.

  In a matter of hours everything he had ever wanted or could think to ask for was to be his! He reached out and lovingly stroked the boy’s cheek. The little one smiled back trustingly.

  Ramon turned and gestured to the vendor to bring another round. When the beers came, Ramon laughed and joked with the company, but he didn’t drink. His head had to be clear if he dared to prepare for the Baka.

  At the far end of the village, four women, apparently related by either blood or marriage, were preparing a simple evening meal over an open fire in a small, separate structure. In this way, should their rude kitchen ever catch fire, they wouldn’t burn down their living quarters as well. Ramon rose and stretched. He had decided to take a stroll around the miniscule village. His stroll took him, in short order, to the food. Ramon chatted with the women and managed to strike a bargain with them. In exchange for a few pesos, they agreed to prepare his meals while he was in Liberte.

  Then a cloak of darkness fell over Liberte so quickly and completely that Ramon knew he couldn’t pursue his quest until daybreak. He ate the supper the women brought to him, finding it tasty and filling. Then he crawled into the Chevy, only to spend a restless night tossing and turning in anticipation.