by Amy Sumida
“Sure but why... oh,” I realized what she was about to do. “You're going on a ride.”
“Yes, one of my serviteurs will be calling me,” she smiled gently. “I'll do my best to help you if anything goes awry but my focus will be on the ritual.”
“Alright,” I chewed at my lips. “I think I want to take Odin with me. He's a death god and he may be able to sense when others who work with death approach. Plus, he's a wily SOB and he's good at outsmarting his opponents.”
“A wise choice,” she nodded. “Alright, take the Oathbreaker but leave the rest of your people here. This needs to be done as quietly as possible, so as to not disturb my people.”
“If anything happens, it'll only be one bokor that we have to deal with, right?”
“I assume so,” she frowned. “They wouldn't want to risk a large group either.”
“Then it shouldn't be a problem,” I said confidently.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Yemanja had to trace Odin and I into the location of the wete mo na dlo and then return to the room she was using in Pride Palace. Even though the room had a lock, I posted Jared as guard outside her door so that she'd feel completely at ease. Trevor and Kirill didn't like staying behind but they agreed that Odin was probably the best suited to accompany me, so they finally relented. Az was off collecting souls so he wasn't an issue at all.
The site was in New York, upstate not the city. It surprised me for a couple of reasons. First; I assumed we'd be going to somewhere in Louisiana. This was evidently an offensive assumption, causing Yemanja to lift a disapproving brow at me when I mentioned it. Vodou is everywhere, she had told me. Second; I didn't know New York was so beautiful. Yes, go ahead and laugh at my ignorance but I'd always thought of the city when someone mentioned New York. I had no idea the state had magnificent countryside, complete with shining lakes and flourishing forests.
I stared around the open field from the cover of the treeline. The oumphor was about five feet to our right, a simple but attractive little house. Ahead of us, on the other side of the clearing, was a much larger house, a mansion really, but most of the people were gathered in the field between the two buildings. They stood beneath the single tree which dominated the clearing like a patriarch. Beside the tree, there was a small, white tent which had an air of importance despite its simplicity. People who walked past the tent did so with respect.
There were a few stragglers still in the oumphor gathering supplies, so Odin and I had to cloak ourselves with invisibility before we crept carefully forward. We passed through the door, which had been conveniently left open while people hurried back and forth with the supplies, and we moved immediately to one side so we could press ourselves against the wall and hopefully stay out of everyone's way. Thankfully, the room cleared pretty quickly and Odin and I were left alone in the church.
The front room had a white tile floor and a large pole in the center of it, running from ceiling to floor. Around the base of the pole was a tiled ledge and on the ledge were candles in tall glass jars, all of them lit. Gaudy tapestries were hung all over the room, their intricate designs adorned with shiny sequins, and jars filled with an assortment of strange things hung from the ceiling on cords. At the far end of the room were two long tables, they took up the entire wall, with the entrance to a hallway separating them. The tables were overflowing with an odd collection of items.
I recognized them immediately as altars but a Vodou altar was a lot different from a witch's. Instead of representations of the elements, there were statues of saints to stand in for the lwas. Along with the religious icons were crosses, candles, bowls full of coins, plates of food, bottles of oil, and several clay pots all set in a row. The pots were covered with lids and adorned with strings of beads. Each one had a symbol painted on its side. I walked forward, dropping my invisibility, and bent to stare at the intricate designs.
“Veves,” Odin came up beside me. “Symbols of the lwas, similar to a heraldic device.”
“Fascinating,” I whispered. “Look at all this stuff.”
“Well, whatever kind of exchange they have going with the lwas,” Odin looked around the room, “it seems to be working well for them. This is quite an estate.”
“No kidding,” I laughed. “Maybe I should have tried Vodou back when I was just a witch.”
“You learned exactly what you needed to know to become who you needed to be.”
“Yeah, okay, Obi Wan,” I snickered. “I guess I can thank Faerie and Alaric for that.”
“And me,” Odin teased. “Don't forget that I was the one who chose your mother.”
“You did a good job there,” I conceded. “She's a wonderful mother.”
“I'm the father god of the Vikings,” he smirked. “I know a good mother when I see one.”
The sound of drums filtered in to us and then came singing. The ritual had begun.
“What is that?” I whispered as gooseflesh broke out on my arms.
“Magic,” Odin looked to the front of the building. “Death magic.”
The drapes were pulled shut, hiding our view of the proceedings. He went over to a window and eased the curtain back. I joined him, staring out at the spectacle in the middle of the field. I rubbed my arms absently as the magic continued to tingle across my skin.
People were dancing wildly around the tree to the beat of the drums. Some of the dancing was quite suggestive while others danced more modestly. There was no uniformity to it, just an overall exuberance. It actually looked pretty fun.
“Death magic?” I asked. “Are you sure?”
“Magic used with the dead,” he clarified. “A connection is being made through the Aether.”
“They're tracing without physically moving,” I breathed in awe. “A spell which doesn't just go into the Aether, it passes through it and touches the God Realm.”
“And allows a soul to journey back,” Odin inhaled sharply. “Amazing and fascinating. It's like those veins of Inter Realm your faeries have shown us how to connect to our territories for communication. Except instead of phone calls passing through the vein, it's souls.”
“A direct soul-line to Heaven,” I chuckled. “What a wondrous thing.”
“It is, isn't it?” A voice startled us both and we jerked around to see a young man leaning against the center pole. “But I find myself fascinated as well. What are you doing here, Godhunter?”
He was thin but attractive, dressed in loose fitting black pants and a top hat, nothing else. Not even shoes. His pale skin was painted with intricate pitch black designs, similar to the veves we'd seen on the pots. His dark eyes flashed crimson as he pulled an apple out of his pants pocket and bit into it with a crisp click of his teeth.
“How did you get by us?” Odin shot back.
“I'm very sneaky,” he chuckled. “I came in the back door... I love coming in the back door. But now you must answer my question; why are you here and who are you?” He cocked his head at Odin. “I feel... a... something with you.”
“And I you,” Odin frowned. “You're not human.”
“No, of course not,” he chortled. “This is just my horse,” he waved a hand down the body. “Not bad though, despite the pallid skin. But then, you like yourself a pale horse, don't you, Godhunter?” He sidled up and posed before me. “You wanna give my horse a ride? Or is it just the rider of the pale horse that you like? In which case, we can meet up later.”
“You're a Gede!” I declared in accusation.
“Gede up!” He declared and started galloping around the room like he was riding a horse, slapping himself on the ass as he went. He stopped in front of me and pouted. “I'm all affronted that you didn't recognize me immediately. I know we didn't connect as you and Krim did but I thought we had a moment there. Of course you could make me less affronted by paying a little attention to my front.” He held his apple at crotch level, like it was a head, and started to thrust his hips at it. “You know, you got a pretty mouth, Godhunter.”
“He's one of the Gede,” I said to Odin in my duh tone. “Like I just said.”
“You were having moments with the Gede?”
“No, I was having a drink,” I huffed. “Re was with me, remember?”
“Oh this is interesting,” the man took another bite of his apple. “A lover's spat? Care to introduce me before things get too heated, Vervain?”
“I would if I knew your name,” I shot back.
“Papa La Croix,” he swept off his hat and bowed. “Now you,” he waved to Odin.
“I am Odin Allfather of the Norse,” Odin nodded to the Gede imperiously.
“Odin the Allfather?” Papa's eyes went wide. “Ah, no wonder I feel your...” he waved a hand in Odin's direction but it was focused around the area of his crotch, “...magic.” Papa laughed boisterously. “Magic strong enough to catch the Godhunter. That must be some big juju. You like us death daddies, don't you, Vervain?”
“Kind of,” I shrugged. “But keep it in your pants, Papa. I'm not interested in adding any more men to my dance card.”
“Oh, what's one more?” He yanked his waistband down and pulled out his hardening member. “I'm sure you can fit this in someplace.”
“Whoa,” I turned away. “Yep, there it is.”
“Put that thing away or I'll cut it off,” Odin snapped.
“Oh it's just a cock,” Papa huffed and shoved it back into his pants. “What's the big deal? It's not even my cock,” he leaned forward and whispered dramatically to me. “My cock is far more impressive.”
“What are you doing here, Papa?” I shook my head as I laughed despite myself.
“I asked you first,” he pointed out.
“We were invited,” I shrugged.
“To just sit in the oumphor and watch?” He lifted a brow. “Who invited you?”
“Yemanja,” I said simply.
“La Sirene?” He gaped at me. “La Sirene is here?” He asked more anxiously, rushing to the window to pull open the curtains. “Oh... there she is; the Beauty of the Seas. Look at her, her dancing will make you weep with wanting.”
I peered out the window but of course I didn't see her. Yemanja wasn't physically there, she was riding one of her serviteurs. And I had no idea which one.
“Where?” I asked.
“There,” he pointed to a young girl with hazelnut skin and long, silky hair the color of sunset. “The one with the blue scarf around her waist. That's the Queen of the Waters. Her dancing is unmistakable. Such grace. Se bon.”
“We are here because someone has been stealing pot de tets,” I decided to just tell Papa what was up and see what his reaction was.
He went still and then dropped the curtain. “What did you say? Ou ka replete souple.” He turned and looked steadily at me, all humor gone. “Repeat that please.”
“The pots,” I waved back at the altar. “Someone has been taking them and then killing the people connected to the pots.”
“Killing them?” Papa's eyes narrowed. “Then what?”
“Then they bring the soul back,” Odin took over. “Except not properly, like this,” he waved to the window. “They bring them back early, bind them to a govi pot, and take control of the soul.”
“Bokors,” Papa hissed. “Evil deeds. They will be punished!”
“So you don't know anything about it?” I asked carefully.
“Me?” He looked genuinely startled. “Why would I know-” his face cleared with revelation. “You think we Gede are involved? That's why Re brought you to our party?”
“The Baron hasn't lost any followers has he?” I asked instead of answering.
“No,” Papa frowned. “No but... Sam would never... why would he? We don't need to force souls to do our bidding. What do we care what a soul does? We're Gede, we do what we want.”
“Then you wouldn't mind waiting here with us until the ritual is over?” Odin asked shrewdly. “Once the altar is protected again, we can all leave.”
“You mean once I leave this body and the mambo resets her wards on the oumphor,” he narrowed his eyes on Odin. “You really do suspect us.”
“It looks suspicious that your people have been spared,” I said reasonably.
“Yes, suspicious indeed,” his hands clenched. “Can't be only our souls that are safe. Or someone is setting us up.”
“You think you're being framed?” I asked casually. “By whom?”
“I don't know but I intend to find out,” he growled and the man suddenly dropped to the floor.
He began to moan and I looked at Odin urgently. He nodded and we both went invisible. Just in time too. The man looked up, his face utterly confused, and then glanced around the room. He stood on wobbly legs and stumbled out the door. I went to the window and watched him cross the field, heading towards the gathering.
“Do you think he's innocent?” Odin asked as he reappeared beside me.
“Maybe,” I mused as I dropped my invisibility too. “But that doesn't mean Baron Samedi is.”
“Perhaps he's working behind the backs of the Gede,” Odin mused. “That would make sense.”
“Well, he's about to be notified that we're on to him,” I sighed. “Maybe I shouldn't have told Papa.”
“No,” he took my hand. “I think you did the right thing. It gave us a little insight and it may even turn the Gede against Samedi.”
“I don't know if that's a good thing,” I scowled.
“It is if he's guilty.”
“And if he's not?”
“Then I hope we find who really is guilty, soon,” Odin looked out the window at the celebrating group. A woman had come out of the white tent carrying a pot. People gathered around her as she headed to the oumphor... to us. “Time to go.”
“Gede up,” I grimaced as we traced away.
Chapter Twenty-Four
“Working alone?” Yemanja asked. “I can't imagine the Baron ever working alone.”
We were in the library, at one of the study tables near the doors which opened to the balcony. Sunlight streamed in, cutting a swath of light across Yemanja's worried face, and she squinted in the glare. Kirill got up and closed some of the drapes, and she nodded her thanks to him.
“It might make it easier for him to not have to deal with possible opposition,” Odin offered.
“But the Gede are like his children,” Yemanja shook her head. “I just can't see it.”
“Well, Papa Gede seemed truly surprised by the news of the stolen souls,” I noted.
“What's going on here,” she pounded the table with a fist. “I don't understand.”
“Alright,” I said decisively. “We're wasting time on trying to verify if it really is Baron Samedi. We need to just work on the assumption that he's guilty so we can get to the important aspect of this... watching the bokors.”
“Watching them?” Yemanja frowned.
“To see vhat zey do vith souls,” Kirill nodded.
“Not just that,” I said grimly. “We need to get those souls back.”
“There's only two ways of freeing those souls,” Yemanja whispered. “Either the bokor must release the soul or the bokor himself must be destroyed.”
“I don't know how I feel about that,” Azrael scowled.
“They're trapping souls,” Trevor said.
“Not really,” Odin mused and we all stared at him. “Well the souls aren't trapped per se. The pots are links to the souls. They're conduits used to bring the soul to the Human Realm and force them into service. But the soul isn't actually trapped in the pot.”
“Semantics,” Yemanja waved a hand. “They are enslaved, whether they're trapped or not.”
“Yes, that's true enough,” Odin conceded.
“So let's just go in and kill the bokors,” Trevor shrugged. “That'll put an end to it.”
�
�Will it?” I frowned as I began to change my mind. “You know, I think I may have spoke too rashly. The souls will have to wait. We need to find out who's actually behind this. If we don't stop them before we free the souls, they'll just recruit more bokors and start all over.”
“Yes, exactly,” Yemanja nodded.
“But I still think we should proceed on the assumption that Samedi is guilty,” I went on and Yemanja frowned. “If it looks like a duck and quacks like a duck...”
“Then shoot it, it's good eatin',” Trevor said with a hillbilly accent.
“We need to find a way to track him,” I mused, ignoring Trevor attempt at levity.
“There are spells for that,” Odin offered. “But you'd need a personal item of Samedi's.”
“He's not going to let me anywhere near him now,” I grimaced.
“But he would welcome La Sirene,” Odin looked over to Yemanja.
“You're right,” I grinned. “They love you. You could go over and grab something, couldn't you?”
“I suppose,” she worried at her lower lip with her upper teeth.
“What's wrong?” Trevor asked.
“I don't know,” she sighed. “Is it silly to feel like I'm betraying their trust?”
“A little,” Trevor nodded.
“No, it's not,” I added. “It's because you're a good person. They may or may not be innocent of this and your efforts, though they may seem to be an act of betrayal now, will prove whether or not they're innocent. So really, you're being a true friend to them.”
“Alright,” she stood. “I assume hair would be a reliable personal connection?” She looked to Odin.
“Usually is,” he agreed. “But be careful. We told Papa that you were the one who invited us to the ceremony, so your visit may seem suspicious.”
“Alright, I'll be back tomorrow,” she started to leave.
“Tomorrow?” I asked. “That's an awful long time to spend with the Gede.”
“If I leave any earlier, they'll definitely be suspicious,” she shrugged. “And we don't want that.”