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CHAPTER 34
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2021-05-02 15:05:36The smell of rich spices and sausages filled up Miss Aza's home once she and I made the journey downstairs. The Coterie was making gumbo - a huge pot of it for everyone that sat around in the living room. The Coterie was in the kitchen when we made it downstairs, whereas everyone sat on the couch or on the floor, their clothes still dirty and tattered. All them stopped their chatter when they saw me. Everyone went quiet, plagued with questions that they didn't know how to ask.
Kizzy, Esther, Imani, and Rocio sat together and stood together when their eyes landed on me. They probably assumed I was dead. They probably thought that I was a lost cause. But I wasn't. I was there, in the flesh, staring at them and waiting for one of them to say something. But none of them did. I wanted to say something - I wanted to tell them of the
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** I spent one minute and sixteen seconds looking at them. Aza and Hezekiah. I spent one minute and sixteen seconds looking at Aza and Hezekiah, back and forth, deep into their eyes, carving out the bridges of their noses, the curvature of their ample lips, and the creases of their brows. I stared at the features they shared until they were one - until I was able to believe that Miss Aza Okoye and Hezekiah Mercier were related. Well, it was actually Camile Mercier. That was Miss Aza's legal name - Camile Aza Mercier-Okoye. And from that, she went by Miss Aza Okoye. Aza and Hezekiah didn't say anything as I looked at them. They knew that I was still in disbelief. In shock. Hezekiah crossed his arms over his chest and wait
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** It was a theory - an outlandish theory, but a theory nonetheless. One that made sense. One that would explain a lot. We couldn't prove that Marie II was Mama's spirit guide - the one responsible for possessing her and taking over her body and will. Spirit guides - met tet, djab, whichever term - were personal. Therefore, it would be difficult for us to find out exactly who Mama's djab was unless Mama went through a head washing orlave tet.This process took days, and if done incorrectly, could result in bad luck, mental illness or even death. But with a proper lave tet, one could come into direct contact with their met tet and their identity. No one in the Coterie had ever gone through a lave tet. "Too r
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** I struggled with sleep for the rest of the night. I was a fool to believe that sleep would be easily achievable after what happened between Hezekiah and I in the kitchen. I laid awake in the darkness, my body tense next to Esther's on the blow-up mattress. Hezekiah had left into the night then, but his presence still loomed over me; his influence still lingered. I felt like he was still inside me; I felt his lips on mine. The taste of them. I heard the sounds of his moaning, and I saw his eyes, so bright and fluorescent like hellfire, but dark in intention and motive. All of my senses were overtaken by him completely no matter how hard I fought against them. It was just sex,I assured myself - a meaningless encounter between two bodies that meant nothing beyond
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I said nothing to no one about the conversation between my djab and I. In fact, I made an attempt to not even think about it; I didn't want to let it consume me. Today was of large importance, and I needed to be focused. Aza had dropped off the parchments at Doctor Ben's house for him to try and translate them. We waited in her living room for her to get back. We were all dressed in white, per usual. Some of us had to borrow Aza's clothes. "What do you think Sajida's going to say?" Esther asked me, nearly impatient to meet her again. "I don't know." My answer was purposefully short; I didn't want to give much of myself away. "I'm surprised the Coterie was so quick to trust her,"
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Doctor Ben was dead. It made sense to believe it - there was no possible way in my mind that he could have been alive. There was blood - so much blood. Enough to make someone wonder how it was humanly possible for us to possess that much blood in our veins. Aza's scream of sheer terror carried until she was at Ben's side. Her hands trembled over him and hung over the gushing wound on his neck. I felt, suddenly, like I was about to collapse. Ringing had replaced any sound coming into my ears, and everything began to spin around me. Sajida and Mama ran into Ben's office while I stood by the door frame, hanging onto the wall for support. I couldn't go in. I wouldn't and I couldn't. I looked on from afar, Mama, Sajida and Aza sitting on the floor next to Ben's unconscious body, his
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** Tempus Summatum -drifter of time. One who can manipulate time. One who glides on the sands of time. When I had come back into consciousness, Aza explained to me - to us - what tempus summatum was; Sajida had left right when I passed out. Silently, like a cold, bitter wind pushing through. "It's a form of black magic," Aza said. "It's the type of magic that most witches don't go near, 'cause not only is it dark, but it can be deadly. To force your body to bend to the will of space and time, manipulating it to your benefit, is an act against nature. Against the universe. Against thegods. The concept of time is just forward, with the past having already happened, the events set in stone. We can't be jumping forward or falling backward in it
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** I had seen more blood that night than I had wished to. It stained my dress, Ben's blood. And now my hands were stained by my own blood. It became almost a normality to have it so close, and this scared me. I stared down at my hands and watched the red liquid drip onto floor like a leaky faucet. "Come on." Aza helped me to my feet. "Let's get you cleaned up." "No." Mama's voice was dry and emotionless. "I'll clean her up. You go check on Ben." Aza looked at Mama without moving from my side. I wanted to say no to her suggestion because I didn't trust her. Or rather, I didn't trust the spirit guide that accompanied mama; Mama was acting as if the words that came out of her m
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Once I finished reading the letter, I knew immediately what it meant. "I deeply enjoy you in the color red." One might wonder how Russel Van Doren could know what I looked like in red. But once I put the pieces together, the theory proved itself as more concrete: Russell Van Doren, the leader of the Council, knew me from the past. The sweat from my palms began to seep through the parchment, making it damp. I stared at the words over and over again, rereading the letter, memorizing Russell's penmanship. I did this until Mama came into the kitchen and snatched the letter from my hand. I didn't try and take it back from her; I stared at the ground, deep in thought. I couldn't move from my post. My mind began making up these images - of Russell, of me, of the past. I imagined Ru
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** I waited in the living room of Sajida's treehouse. Sasi One had directed me to a chair once I had come up the ladder; Sajida wasn't present. "Mere will be down shortly," she said to me, her skin even more sickly looking than before and her teeth seemingly moments away from falling out due to rot and decay. "Would you like a beverage? Perhaps a cup of tea? Water?" I nodded, "Water would be nice." Sasi One smiled even wider. "Be right back!" she said, pivoting and sashaying down a hallway to the kitchen. I sat alone with my backpack on my lap, looking around at my surroundings. The treehouse wasn't as frightening to me as it was before, and neither was the bayou. The journey here felt like a normality. Maybe it was because th
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I wanted to remember what it was like to be possessed by my djab, but it was an event that would not come back to me. But everyone else around me had seen what I became during my body's surrender to Marie Laveau, and they could not see me the same because of it. All of the priests and priestesses that attended the Council's party the night before were hounding the Coterie with questions about what happened to me. Word had spread that I was possessed by Marie Laveau's spirit, while other rumors consisted of me being a demon, a witch, an incarnate of a voodoo god. Regardless of the validity of these rumors, there was no denying that what everyone witnessed was an anomaly of sorts; Marie Laveau had been quiet since her death, so to now harness my body as her vessel raised a lot of questions about me. I was no longer just Madam Dumont's only daughter. People knew my name. And they w
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** When I awoke, the sun had already risen. It poured into my room, filling it with warmth. I sat up but very slowly; my head was throbbing to the point of it being hard to concentrate on where I was. It took me a few moments to realize that I was in my bedroom, lying in my bed, in my mama's house. The last thing I remembered from the night prior was Abraham threatening to kill Miss Aza. With this memory, I jumped out of bed in a panic, wondering if he had succeeded and oblivious to the events that preceded his threat. I ran out of the room, through the quiet hall and downstairs, yelling her name. The longer the silence carried, the larger my fears grew, I imagined that everyone was at a service for Aza or burying her body in
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I have tried with every fiber of my being to remember the rest of that night from my own account. I have gone through multiplelave tets, have spoken to my ancestors and to the loa, have channeled my djab, have convened with other mambos in an attempt to remember the events that preceded Abraham ordering Hezekiah to give Aza the Gift of Darkness, but it doesn't come to me. Some have told me it's common to black out after possession, so I have settled at that conclusion. I only remember the moment right before Marie Laveau possessed me and the moments after she abandoned my body. Everything between was told to me by others, so this account is stitched together by other witnesses; it is not my own, though I hope it will be one day. **
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** For some reason, I felt like I had been waiting for this meeting with Abraham my entire life. Walking towards the balcony after the meeting was over, this feeling of forbiddance deep within me as I had snuck off while the Coterie was not looking, I felt like I was reaching the end of the race and near claiming my prize. But what prize was there to claim from him? Knowledge? Deceit? I was unsure. I wouldn't find out until I opened the balcony door in front of me. The balcony had to be reached by entering the master bedroom, which was, of course, unused and completely empty, save for a bed and a dresser, both covered with a white sheet. The room was completely dark, and the only source of light came from the moon outside shining through the balcony doors.
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** Abraham's hand was cold and lifeless, like the gradual shift of the air in the room. My hand looked small in his—puny. His fingers completely enveloped mine. The music, which was still playing, was a slow and almost melancholy piano number, however, Abraham wanted to dance to it, so we did. My left hand rested on his shoulder (which wasn't an easy feat; I had to stretch a bit) and his right hand rested directly underneath my arm. We started off slow; I followed his lead. My body was stiff out of extreme nervousness. I couldn't look at him; I looked at his bowtie, which was nearly eyelevel. He knew that I was overtaken with nerves; he could sense it. Smell it. We moved slowly in our little space, the entire world, it seemed, watching.
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** There were eyes on me from every corner of the room. All from different factions, and all for different reasons. Never would I think I would be at a level of such importance at a function such as this one—with vampires and witches and voodoo priestesses, all high and low in rank, but still more significant than me. However, I was more influential than I thought; I was more significant than I thought. And I was coming to terms with this newfound jump in rank. Yet it wasn't the time to bask in this new knowledge. I was here to find a different type of knowledge—from Abraham. It would be nearly impossible to find a good time to speak to Abraham and ask him what I wanted to know; there were people everywhere, and most of these people were infected with the disease that not only g
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** I had locked myself in the guest bedroom with the black box as my only form of company that night. No one came to me; I was left alone, which heightened my suspicions about the truth I had brought to them. I sat on the floor, still dressed in white and covered in dirt and dried sweat. The ball gown lied on the bed, staring back at me. I thought about trying it on; I didn't need to know how it fit, since Jeffrey assured me that the dress was correct to my measurements. But I wanted to see myself in this dress. Is this how Russell Van Doren remembered me one hundred and fifty years in the past—wearing this gown when it was common attire at the time? I expected Hezekiah to knock on the window and let himself in the room, trying to explain himself and his actions; his reasoning f
