The Devil in Gray
Page 16
Aluya came in with a tray of teacups and a plate of cookies. As she handed Decker his tea she raised her eyes just a fraction and gave him a barely perceptible smile. So she didn’t have time for men? thought Decker. He sipped his tea and it was completely tasteless—scalding water with little green fragments of twigs in it.
Moses took a cookie and pushed it into his mouth, and before he had finished chewing it, another, and then another. When he carried on talking he sprayed crumbs on his pants and he had to keep brushing them with his hand.
“There are two kinds of orishas—the white orishas and the dark orishas. The white orishas have the power to heal, and give life, like Obatalá and Oshún and Osain, the god of herbs. The dark orishas are hot and their strength is greatest in wars and battles. These are Changó, Oggún, Oyá, and Babalu-Ayé.
“Santería has two basic concepts, right? The first concept is aché, which means divine power, the power that was used to create the universe. Then there’s the concept of ebbó, which means sacrifice.
“In Santería we make sacrifices to the orishas and we propitiate them because we want them to give us aché. With aché, we can sort out anything that’s bugging us, we can screw our enemies, we can find pretty women and happiness and money. Aché also means authority, which is why Queen Aché calls herself by that particular name.”
“I see,” Decker said. “So ebbó—sacrifice—will bring you aché—power?” He hesitated for a moment, and then he said, “What kind of a sacrifice would somebody have to make if he wanted the power to be invisible?”
“Unseen more than invisible,” Moses corrected him, helping himself to another cookie. “An ebbó like that—well, that would call for blood. We never shed blood lightly, not even the blood of a chicken, because blood is the essence of life. Usually we offer fruit or flowers or candles or whatever the orisha likes to eat. But if somebody wanted the power to walk through the world without being seen—yes, blood, my friend. Possibly maybe human blood.”
“Is there any way in which you could make a kind of a counter—ebbó?”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, could I ask the orishas to give me the aché so that I could see this invisible person?”
Moses thought about that, and then he shook his head. “I can’t honestly say I know the answer to that. One spell can be cast to break another. It depends who cast it, and how strong it is. I heard of a man who asked a santero to cast a spell on his older brother to bring him ill luck, and the spell worked. In only two or three months, his brother’s wife ran off with one of his best friends, his business went bankrupt, and he caught a skin rash all over his body.”
“That’s not just ill luck,” Jonah said. “That’s shit luck.”
“Oh yes. But the older brother went to a babalawo, a high priest, and the babalawo realized at once that somebody had put a curse on him. The babalawo made a sacrifice to the ajogun, who are the opposite of the orishas. The ajogun are the evil forces in the world—arun, which is disease; ofo, which is loss; egba, which is paralysis; and iku, which is death.
“The babalawo cast a spell that every bad thing the older brother had suffered should happen to the person who had cursed him, only a hundred times worse. That same evening all of the younger brother’s family were killed in car crash, including his newborn son. Within a week his furniture business had burned down, and he was badly burned trying to get out of the building. In the hospital, before his burns were healed, he was diagnosed with incurable leukemia. It was only then that he confessed to his older brother that he had arranged for a bad-luck spell, and his older brother discovered who it was that he had cursed in return.”
He took the last cookie and bit into it. “A true story,” he said. Then—realizing that he had emptied the plate all by himself—he held out the half-eaten cookie to Decker and said, “Want one?”
“No, thanks. I just need the ability to be able to see this guy. I also need to see the evidence he leaves behind him. I know the evidence is there. Fingerprints, fibers, DNA. It must be there. But in some way he’s made it invisible. I need eyes, Mr. Alebodu. Eyes that can see through magic.”
“Well … I’ll have to give this some sober thinking.”
“Okay … I really appreciate your talking to me. If you come up with any ideas, maybe you can give me a call on this number.”
“You’ve forgotten something,” Moses said, quietly, as Decker stood up. Decker looked around and saw his teacup, still full.
“Oh … I’m more of a coffee kind of guy. Sorry.”
“There’s another question in your mind, my friend, and you don’t know how to put it into words.”
Jonah looked across at Decker and made a face that meant “don’t ask me.”
Decker said, “How do you know that?”
“Because an unspoken question, what’s that like? It’s like a bird sitting on a wall. It won’t fly away until you clap your hands.”
“It’s not important.”
“I think it cuts close to your heart, and this is why you decided not to ask it.”
“Forget it, it doesn’t matter.”
“I think it do matter. Because what would a police detective with a slave-owning name want to know from a santero? Let’s ask ourselves that.”
“All right,” Decker said. “What about Saint Barbara? Were any of the orishas named for her?”
“And you ask me that because …”
“I ask because I’ve been having bad dreams. I’ve been hearing my girlfriend, who was killed two years ago. I hear her talking to me, in my sleep. Or maybe not in my sleep, I don’t know. Maybe she’s really there.”
“And she talks to you about Saint Barbara?”
“That’s right. She says that Saint Barbara wants her revenge. A couple of days ago, when I got home, I found the name Saint Barbara written on my wall, in human blood.”
“And …”
“I saw her again, last night. She was standing in my apartment, covered in a sheet, like she was playing ghosts.”
Moses took off his glasses. His eyes were bulgy and unfocused, but somehow Decker felt that he could see him better without them.
“Sit down,” Moses said. “Let me tell you this. Saint Barbara is the name that we gave to Changó, who is the mighty and terrible orisha of fire, thunder, lightning, and war. The cult of Changó came from the city of Oyo-Ile, the ancient capital of the Oyo kingdom. Changó reigned over the city for seven years, but he was always interested in magic and he had great magical power.
“One day Changó caused a great thunderstorm that destroyed his palace and killed many of his wives and children. He was so remorseful that he hanged himself. His enemies rejoiced, but soon afterward a hundred thunderstorms destroyed most of the city of Oyo-Ile, along with Changó’s enemies. Changó’s followers made sacrifices in his honor and declared that he was an orisha, a god. ‘Oba ko so,’ they sang. ‘The king did not hang himself.’
“Changó is the most powerful and popular of all the orishas. He has millions of followers all around the world. His priests keep his power in ‘thunderstones’—which are the bricks of buildings that have been struck by lightning, and kept in a wooden bowl. You can see that I have one over there, on my shrine. If you wish to make a sacrifice to Changó, to propitiate him, you have to wash the bowl in herbs and palm oil, and then sacrifice a rooster and sprinkle its blood over the thunderstones. This is one of the oldest ceremonies in Santería, and goes right back hundreds of years to Africa.
“You can also give Changó chicken meat and bananas, although his favorite food is a freshly killed ram.”
“Chicken meat and bananas?” Decker suddenly thought of the face that he had seen in his kitchen.
“That means something to you?” Moses asked.
Decker told him. Moses listened, and nodded, seemingly unsurprised. “I think your dead girlfriend is doing everything she can to protect you.”
“From what? From Changó? What have I ever done t
o Changó?”
“I don’t know … but it’s pretty clear to me that he’s looking for revenge. And when Changó looks for revenge, he makes double sure that he gets it. I hate to tell you this, my friend, but you in acute trouble.”
Jonah asked, “Is there any way to find out what this Changó’s so mad about?”
“I’m not sure. But I could help you to make an ebbó to Changó, which might make him forgive you. Right now, the only thing that’s standing between you and some very horrible consequence is the spirit of your girlfriend, and she’s putting herself in very serious danger by daring to mess with such a seriously powerful orisha. Every time she appears to you, she’s going to have to suffer the moment of her death over again, and if she upsets Changó too often, he’ll give her to Oyá, the watcher of the doorway between life and death, so that she spends the whole of eternity trapped in that moment, and never being free.”
In his mind’s eye, Decker saw Cathy’s head exploding, again and again, and the thought that she would have to experience that forever was more than he could bear. He had seen enough and heard enough to believe now that there was an afterlife, and that the spirits of the dead were still among us, even if they only made their presence known in times of crisis.
“This ebbó,” he said. “Tell me what I have to do.”
“You have to be cleansed. I sacrifice this rooster you brought me to Changó. Then tomorrow you must come back and I will give you a bowl with the rooster’s blood in it, mixed with an omiero for Changó.”
“An omiero?”
“An omiero is a sacred elixir, my friend, which we use for bathing and also for drinking. Changó’s omiero is a mixture of blood, rompe zaraguey, zarza parilla, and paraíso. You will have to take the omiero home and bathe yourself with it. Then take a second bath to wash off the blood mixture. Into this second bath you will have to stir some álamo and some prodigiosa, some holy water and some honey. I will give you all of these things. While you are bathing, ask Changó for his forgiveness for whatever you have done to offend him, and ask for his protection.”
“And you think that could work?”
“You will have to believe that it is going to work, or else it won’t. You have to have faith. You still love your dead girlfriend, don’t you? Think of her, and what you are doing to save her from Changó’s anger.”
He tinkled his bell again, and Aluya reappeared. Moses said, “Bring me my cuchillo and a white bowl. And maybe some more of those cookies.”
“That’s some perfume she’s wearing,” Decker remarked, as Aluya went to do what she had been asked.
“Esencia Pompeya, one of the three sacred perfumes of Santería.”
Aluya reappeared with a white bowl, a white cloth, and a long sharp knife, as well as a brown paper bag of cookies. Moses stood up and indicated with a wave of his hand that Decker and Jonah should do the same. “I will be invoking Changó. We must show respect. Aluya, the candles.”
He spread the cloth on the coffee table in front of him and placed the bowl in the center of it. Then he held up the knife and kissed its blade.
Aluya brought over two white candles in silver candlesticks and lit them. Moses then waved at her to leave the room. He stood in front of the candles for a while, with his eyes closed and his head tilted back. Then he began to chant. “Babamo Changó ikawo ilemu fumi alaya tilanchani nitosi ki ko gbamu mi re oro niglati wa obinu ki kigbo ni na orin oti gbogbo omo nijin gbogbo …”
After a while, he opened his eyes and said, “Please give me the rooster.”
Decker pointed at himself. “Me?”
“Yes, you. You are the one who is seeking forgiveness from Changó.”
Hesitantly, Decker knelt down and unfastened the catch on the lid of the basket. As soon as he opened it, the rooster exploded into feathery fury, flapping and squawking and pecking at him. He managed to grab one its legs, even though it was scratching him with its claws. Jonah came over and seized its wings and at last he got hold of the other leg, so that he could lift it upside down into the air, still struggling and clucking.
“This chicken sure ain’t a chicken chicken,” Jonah said.
“Hold him up good and high,” Moses instructed. Decker did as he was told, and Moses took hold of the bird’s head and stretched its neck. “Changó, kabio kabio sile,” he intoned, and the cockerel gave one convulsive shudder and then remained strangely still, as if it knew what was going to happen next, and was prepared to accept it.
Moses sliced its throat with his knife and its dark blood dripped quickly into the bowl. He then took the bird’s legs from Decker, and began to circle it around in the air. “Changó alamu oba layo ni na ile ogbomi,” he breathed. “Kabio kabio sile.”
When the bowl was almost filled with blood, he laid the cockerel down between the candles. “The words kabio kabio sile mean welcome to my house,” he explained. “I was invoking Changó so that he knows that you are seeking his forgiveness and that you wish to wash away your transgression, whatever it is.”
He looked slowly around the living room. “Do you feel anything?” he asked.
“Like what?”
“Like the presence of a great power.”
Decker looked around, too. He couldn’t be sure that it wasn’t just the humidity, and the strange smell of herbs, but he thought he could detect a tension in the air, as if a thunderstorm were brewing. And Changó, after all, was the god of thunderstorms.
“Changó hears me,” Moses said. “Changó speaks in my ear.”
“What does he say?”
“He says he has been waiting many seasons.”
“What for? To come looking for me?”
“You are only one among many.”
“Can you ask him why he’s so mad at me?”
“Changó answers no questions. There is only one way to tell what his wishes are.”
He rang his bell again and Aluya came back in. “Aluya, bring me the coconut shells.”
While they waited for her, Moses stood with his eyes closed and his hands pressed together as if he were praying. Jonah kept looking uneasily around the room as if he, too, could sense the presence of something dark and powerful.
Aluya returned with a red and green silk scarf. She waited patiently until Moses had opened his eyes again and then she handed it to him without a word. He took hold of one corner of the scarf and whipped it in the air. Four quarters of coconut shell fell out and scattered on the floor.
Moses said, “I was afraid of this.”
“What is it?” Decker asked. “What’s wrong?”
“You see how all four pieces of coconut have fallen with their brown side upward? This is one of five patterns. When two pieces fall with the brown side upward and two with the white side upward, this is a good sign, and means yes. But when all the pieces fall with the brown side upward, like this, this means no and predicts death.”
“So what can I do?”
“You can only cleanse yourself, my friend, and pray that Changó decides that you are truly sorry for whatever it is that you have done. Come back tomorrow, and I will give you the blood and the omiero.”
With that, he helped himself to another cookie and stood chewing it thoughtfully, staring at Decker with his bulgy eyes as if he had already given him up for dead.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
That afternoon Decker drove around to see Maggie. He parked around the block from Cab’s house, as he always did, and walked the rest of the way. Cab and Maggie lived in a single-story three-bedroom house on the south side of the river, opposite Forest Hill Park. It had an orange-tiled roof and a bright yellow door, and elaborately-tied-up nets at the windows. Maggie had a taste in interior décor that reminded Decker of the early editions of The Cosby Show.
The summer heat was still stifling and the sky was so dark that Decker took off his sunglasses. His shirt clung to his back and if he hadn’t been wearing his shoulder holster he would have taken off his black linen coat.
Maggie wa
s waiting for him and opened the door as he walked up the driveway. Her hair was braided and beaded and she was wearing a loose, flowing dress in diagonal stripes of purple and pink.
She glanced up and down the street and then she put her arms around his neck and gave him a kiss. “I missed you, lover man.”
“Yeah, me too. Any chance of a beer?”
She closed the door and led him through to the kitchen. “Cab called and said that he may have to stay in Charlottesville until tomorrow … so, if you’re interested in some all-night moving …”
He took off his coat and his holster while she took a bottle of Heineken out of the icebox, and opened it. “I don’t know. We’re pretty tied up with these homicides. I’ll probably have to go back to headquarters later.”
She came up close to him and pressed the cold bottle of beer against his cheek. “You look tired. Maybe you should take off those clothes and come to bed.”
“I’m bushed, as a matter of fact.”
“Not too bushed, I hope?”
“These killings, I think they’re beginning to get to me. Every time I think we’ve got a handle on them, it turns out to be the handle on something so goddamned weird I can’t even understand what we’re supposed to be looking for, or who, or why.”
“Cab was saying that Queen Aché might have something to do with them. Now, that’s one evil woman.”
“Queen Aché was probably involved in Junior Abraham getting whacked, but as for the other two … who knows? We don’t have any evidence to connect one with the other, because we don’t have any evidence.”
Maggie kissed him. “You should come to bed. Ease your troubled mind. Exercise your booty.”
“You’re some red-hot lady, you know that? You’re going to wear me out.”
She took hold of his hand and tugged him toward the bedroom. “You know what’s on the menu today? The four-course special, with extra gravy.”
She unbuttoned his shirt and pulled it off, kissing and nipping his nipples with her teeth. Then she unbuckled his belt and pushed him back into a sitting position on the side of the bed. “Let’s get those shoes and socks off. Ain’t nothing look more stupider than a bare-ass man in nothing but his shoes and his socks.”