by R D Martin
Ray, standing still as one of the cemetery statues to this point, nodded, and the sigh from his contact was audible.
“Okay. That may be worth something. Give me the directions and we’ll look into it. If it pans out, I’ll make sure you get paid.”
“Nuh-uh,” he said, shaking his head. “You’ll never find the place without these directions. You need them, and I need to get paid now.”
“How much do you want?”
“A thousand.”
“What? You been drinking? I’ll give you two hundred.”
“No. I want a thousand. I still have to split it with Clifford.”
“Sorry. Can’t do it. I could maybe scrape up three hundred. But that’s it.”
She could almost see the wheels moving in Robbie’s head. This was not the way he’d intended the bargaining to go, but he didn’t know how much they needed the information, either.
“Nine hundred, and that’s my final offer. Take it or leave it.”
“Look, Robbie. I don’t know what you think you know, but—"
“Done,” Bella said, cutting through their discussion.
“What?” said both Ray and Robbie as they turned to face her.
“I said, done. Nine hundred. Three up front and, if your information turns out to be good, the rest after. Deal?” Holding out her hand, she waited for him to shake it, though the look on his face said he was waiting for her hand to turn into a snake and bite him. “I said, deal?”
It was his turn to nod, and he reached out to shake her extended hand. The moment her money appeared though, his reticence disappeared along with the cash and he almost bowled her over trying to pass across the directions. Quicker than he’d arrived, he disappeared again, swallowed by the stone structures of the graveyard.
“What did you do that for?” Ray asked, surprised. “I could have gotten him down to four, maybe five hundred.”
How could she explain to him she was now on a timetable that ended with her death in three days if she didn’t recover the artifact? Next to that, a couple hundred dollars meant nothing and there was no way she would let the information get away.
“It was… important. And besides, it’s just money.”
“Just money? Okay, that proves it. You’re definitely not from around here.” He frowned as he readjusted his opinion of her and held out his hand. “Okay, let me see what your nine hundred dollars bought.”
Unfolding the crumpled paper, he examined it for a moment before whistling and handing it back.
She tried to make heads or tails of it, but the map looked like a third grader drew it after eating through a bag of Halloween candy. There wasn’t a single straight line she could see. There wasn’t even a cross to mark where they were going. Looking up at Ray, she couldn’t stop herself from feeling as if Robbie had duped her.
He must have read the look on her face right, because he spoke before she could say anything.
“There're no signs in the swamp, so regular maps don’t work. Follow this map by following the landmarks, see?” He pointed to different marks on the map, but none of them made any sense to her. “You’ll see when we get there. We can rent a boat tomorrow, and if nothing goes wrong, you’ll have your stuff back before you know it.”
Though he probably mistook her relief at his words, and some of that was true, the greater part came from the sudden sense her life wasn’t over yet. They’d retrieve the artifact tomorrow, turn it over to the Finder, and still have time to spare.
Everything around her took on a new life. Birds chirped just a little louder, and the sun shone a little brighter. Smiling bright enough to rival even the sun, she linked arms with her companion and let him lead the way out of the graveyard.
Spying the crypt with the triple-x scrawled all over its side, she stopped and asked about them.
“Those? You’ve heard of Marie Laveau? The Voodoo Queen?”
She nodded. Even she’d heard that famous name before.
“Well, after she died, people started coming here, leaving offerings at her grave.” He pointed to the litter she’d assumed was garbage.
“But what about the markings?”
“Them? They’re prayers, asking Marie to help with something.”
“And does it work? Asking for help, I mean.”
“Who knows?” he said, shrugging. “But this is New Orleans, and magic lives here. Maybe Marie listens, maybe she doesn’t. But there’s no one down here that’s going to spit on her grave.”
Bella nodded. It was fitting, she thought, that people still came to see the Voodoo Queen long after she died. She only hoped people did the same thing for her. She shivered and an electric tingle traced its way up her spine. Hopefully that time would be a long, long way away.
13
Shifting in her seat next to Karina, Bella watched as men and women in white gathered around an open bonfire. The cryptic message from Mama Ade accompanying the invitation had tempered her excitement at witnessing a real Voodoo ceremony.
The invitation arrived at the B&B shortly after Bella returned from the cemetery, though Karina was the one to find it slipped beneath their bedroom door.
Ray was as surprised as she at hearing about the invitation. Mama Ade didn’t make it a habit of inviting people to the ceremonies. They should go, he insisted. In fact, he could pick them up himself since he would be there.
The drive to the ceremony took much longer than she’d thought. Not because of crowds or roads, but because the ceremony would be at the home of a practitioner some distance from the city. By the time they’d arrived, she felt as though she ought to be in the middle of the swamp. Parking among the dozens of cars already scattered about the lawn, the group made their way to the back of the house.
If she’d ever had the notion Voodoo was not a religion, it was evaporating. The parade of people arranging themselves around the open fire was as somber as she would have expected in any Christian church. In fact, much to her surprise, the area she assumed to be an altar even carried effigies of Christian saints mixed in with other accoutrement she had no names for.
The bonfire burned bright, chasing away the impending darkness and throwing up shadows that moved and danced in time and tune with the crackling fire, creating shapes and patterns flowing and changing.
Settling in a group of onlookers, she watched one woman dribble chalk and ash in complicated patterns in the dirt under the supervision of Mama Ade. They paid rapt attention to every line and curve. As it grew, she noticed the faint sound of rattles in the background growing, almost as though they were connected. A single beat of a drum, like an explosion of thunder, cut through the assemblage, and as though it was the signal to start, every woman in white twirled, billowing out their dresses like the petals of colorless flowers.
Another drum, higher in pitch, joined in. A third and fourth soon followed, each with a unique sound that blended together to create a harmony unlike anything she’d experienced before.
The rhythm of drumbeats and the shake of rattles built, creating a pressure too great for dancers to ignore, and whether on their own or in groups, people began moving in a series of steps never recorded in a dancing manual. People thrust themselves forward, twisted and returned to their starting position as though being pulled back by some unseen force.
The last lines drawn, a small girl helped Mama Ade to a rocking chair decorated with bits and bobble, and set up near the fire. Lowering herself into it, the ancient woman rested her hands and chin on her ever-present cane, staring at the attendees.
Bella got the sense she was waiting for something, some sign only she would recognize, while everyone else moving about in place was waiting on her. The tension grew as taut as a guitar string. There would be no stopping it from snapping. The only question was when. Mama Ade sat up, lifting her cane from the ground, and, holding it a moment, slammed it back down in the dirt. That small thud may as well have been a starter pistol cutting through all the noise around them and opening the floodg
ate of the dancers.
A whirl of movement and ululation and the dancers were let off their leashes, moving and flowing around both the fire and the patterns drawn in the dirt. Though their feet sent dust into the air, it seemed the chalk and ash outlines were protected because not even a mote of dust disturbed them.
Eyes locked on the dancers, Bella didn’t notice one large man pull a burning brand from the bonfire, carry it across the open space while twisting it overhead like a baton, and drop it at the feet of Mama Ade. None of the dancing stopped, nor did the drum beat slow, but it nevertheless felt as though all eyes were on the old woman.
Rising from her seat, ignoring the outstretched hands of her young aide, she stood straight and proud as any young woman. Closing her eyes, she tilted her head back and, as though caught in a winter vortex only she felt, began to shake. It started small but rose in level until it plateaued with Mama Ade releasing her cane and spinning in place like a whirling dervish. Joining in with the dancers, she moved with a lithe grace that should not have been possible for her age.
The shaking and spinning continued for a moment. Then, as if remembering why she stood in the first place, Mama Ade stepped across the burning brand and melted into the crowd.
Bella tried to watch her, but all the dancers dressed in identical outfits made it impossible. The next time she saw the woman, she’d obtained a machete from somewhere. The polished metal gleamed and reflected the firelight from its surface as she swung and twirled it with abandon. Unwilling to take her eyes off the action, Bella found herself awed at the movement because, as much as she feared for someone being slashed, the polished blade never came close to even touching another person, though they were shoulder to shoulder at different points. Flashes of reflected light from other spaces in the crowd made her realize Mama Ade wasn’t the only person dancing with one of the large knives.
Another turn weaving through the crowd and Mama Ade appeared again, spinning her way across the dirt, sweat beading on her forehead and soaking her blouse. Someone must have known this was about to happen because they’d removed the burning brand, allowing the woman to drop into her seat without kicking it. For the briefest of moments, Bella wondered if anyone else had noticed her cane remained upright the entire time she’d been dancing, only tilting over when her hand came to rest on its top.
The pressure felt before was a thimbleful compared to the ocean of it now pressing down on the crowd as activity built to a fevered pitch. Men and women danced faster and faster, their movements no longer smooth and graceful, but jerky and hectic. To her right, one woman looked like she was having a seizure while remaining upright. Others danced around her as though this was both common and expected.
A discordant squawk dragged her attention away from the dancers, and she watched as a woman carrying a rooster strode into the group. The bird’s wings flapped back and forth as she swung it around. Unlike the dance with the machete, however, the bird’s carrier slapped it into other dancers, encouraging the bird’s wings to beat at them. The woman whirled the bird by the feet for some time before switching hands and grasping it by the neck. She was no gentler from this end than the other, and soon the bird’s movement slowed down even when hers didn’t.
Realizing the rooster’s neck was snapped, Bella had a sharp moment of revulsion, one that she pushed down just as quick as it rose. She knew spells that required sacrifice and had even performed the rituals herself. The Catholic tradition still practiced eating the body and drinking the blood of their savior, though it was done with wafers and wine. How was this any different?
Another scream, one she hoped didn’t mean another chicken was being brought to the ceremony, grabbed at her attention. Twisting in her seat, she saw a man wading through the burning pit and emerging on the near side. At first, she assumed it was part of the ceremony, but as his clothes lit on fire and he continued walking forward like a living torch, she understood this was not part of the program. Before he could move more than a few more steps, someone tackled him to the ground, wrapping a blanket around him to smother the fire.
The man trying to put out the fire was no lightweight, weighing over two hundred pounds, but before the last of the flames could be doused, he was shoved off, flying through the air to land in a heap a dozen feet away. Rising to its feet, charred flesh sloughing off to reveal muscle and bone beneath, the figure moved forward again. Though it moved like a puppet on strings, its determined posture made its path clear. It was heading straight for Mama Ade.
Other screams followed, and to her horror, Bella realized shuffling figures surrounded their site.
“What’s going on?” Karina said as she wrapped her arms around one of Bella’s. “Is this part of the ceremony? Are those zombies? What is this?”
The fear and hysteria in Karina’s voice was plain, and it only added to the growing knot of fear in Bella’s stomach.
“Don’t be silly, there’s no such thing as…” Her voice trailed off as she realized she might indeed face zombies. But if she was, they weren’t like anything she’d heard of in movies, and she had the sudden urge to kick George Romero somewhere sensitive.
Though all the approaching figures looked like poorly trained puppeteers controlled them, they didn’t look or act like movie zombies. Most of them looked normal and wouldn’t have been out of place in any other setting. One, a woman, wore a flowery dress and high-heeled shoes. Her hair was coiffed and, apart from tossing away a man more than twice her weight, she could have been on her way to meet a date. Another man, larger and covered with so many tattoos it was hard to see his skin, powered through the crowd toward his goal, ignoring the people he dragged behind him.
In sharp contrast to the people yelling and screaming on the outside edges of the crowd, those closest to Mama Ade were the calm center of the storm. A circle of men and women formed, and as though moving to music only they could hear, began moving and shaking.
As Bella watched, a near translucent wall of energy rose from the ground, summoned into existence by the stamping of the dancer’s feet. The wall grew in height as the dancing became more frenetic until, at a signal she didn’t hear or see, all dancers froze on the same beat and the wall stopped growing and began expanding outward.
The wall’s expansion started slowly but picked up speed. Bella’s hands clenched as she watched it come into contact with a man, but relaxed when it passed straight through him and continued moving. Realizing Mama Ade wouldn’t allow a spell be created to hurt her own people, Bella turned toward the nearest of the attackers, ready to see the effect of the wall on them. She felt a little guilt for the woman in the flowered dress, but as she watched the woman lay out a man with a single punch, the guilt passed.
As the wall approached, she held her breath and wondered what would happen. Maybe bright sparks before the woman dissolved into a pile of ash. Perhaps the wall would knock her back or prevent her from moving forward, though the latter could lead to even more problems. What she did not expect was the wall to pass through the woman, doing nothing more than ruffling her dress.
Bella’s jaw dropped and her eyes shot wide as she watched the woman continue her relentless advance. What the hell? she thought. What was the point of the spell? Twisting around, she saw the dancers moving again, limbs intertwining and feet stomping as they summoned another wall of power. Another wall rose from the dust and shot outward, followed by a second and third.
She watched each wall of magic and felt the cold sting of fear thrust into her stomach as each wall did nothing. Why did they keep doing the same thing if it wasn’t working? These people, or things, or whatever they were, needed to be stopped before it was too late.
She struggled with the decision for a moment but, grabbing Karina by the wrist, dragged her toward the circle protecting the old woman. The dancers parted for her as though they’d been waiting for her arrival. The calm atmosphere inside the circle was unnerving, but even more so was seeing Mama Ade sitting in her chair with her eyes closed, r
ocking back and forth like she hadn’t a care in the world.
“Bella, stop. What are you doing? We need to get out of here,” Karina said, struggling to pull herself free.
“I don’t have time now, but I’ll explain everything later. I promise.” Turning to the old woman, she only had time to open her mouth before Mama Ade’s eyes popped open and a white light blasted forth, forcing her and her friend to cover their own or risk blindness. When the light didn’t diminish after a moment, she dared to look over the top of her arm.
The woman’s entire body glowed with the pearlescent light, as though suffused with the light of heaven. Bella had seen ghosts before, their ethereal forms outlined by a glowing light, but this was almost the exact opposite. It was as if Mama Ade created a light at her core, and it was looking for any means to escape. When she opened her mouth to speak, more of the pure light poured forth, so bright it even burned shadows away.
“We have come.” The voice came from Mama Ade, but there was no way a human could make that sound. It was like an entire chorus gathered to say the words, mixing every range and tone, all of them separate but equal.
The old woman stood and a wave of strength poured from her. There was no malice or hate in the power, but a mixture of sorrow and compassion tinged with righteous indignation. Whatever spirit possessed the old woman knew a wrong was being done, and as much as it felt sorry for the victims, it would put things right.
“Bella, what—?” Karina began, but shut her mouth with an audible click as the Voodoo woman’s gaze turned to her.
As the light passed her friend and stopped on her, Bella couldn’t help feeling a little impressed at Karina’s fortitude. The immense power behind those eyes made her stomach flip and turned her legs to Jell-O. And she was used to dealing with beings of strength.