I thought the sounds of Tia's House screaming before their death was the most heart-shattering noise I had ever heard, but I was proven wrong once the sound of my mama's scream echoed in my head.
I got up, surrounded by darkness with the occasional twinkle of the charms on the walls. My heart was thumping faster than Thumper's foot, and there was no if's, and's or but's about it. I slipped on some sneakers, put on my spectacles and ran my black ass out into the pitch-black hallway until I was stumbling down the staircases. And down in the shop, I saw one of the novitiates sleeping on the couch, completely unnerved. I was praying that it was just my mind playing tricks on me; trauma messing with my head and such. But conveniently, the screaming started up again, and the novitiate on the couch jolted awake immediately. That's when the fear in me arose up to my heart, cheeks, and ears.
"Esther," Mambo Nene said from the staircase. "What was that?"
The novitiate—Esther—got up and looked half as scared as I did.
"I don't know. It sounded like Madam Dumont."
"It was her," I clarified. "I s-swear it was her. Shit, this is happening all over again!"
"Lisa, calm down," Mambo Nene said, but before she could utter another word, all three of us saw the silhouette of a woman outside running past the window. She was wearing exactly what Mama wore when I saw her last. And right behind her was a shadow as black as night chasing after her. My ribs felt like they were breaking inside me while my limbs shook like Jell-O.
"Mama!" I called out. I tuned out the sound of Mambo Nene demanding I stay inside. Instead, I unlocked the door and ran out onto the sidewalk. People enjoying the late-night wonders of the French Quarter jumped at the sight of me sprinting out of the shop.
"Damn, Cher. You alright up in there?" A man with his friends laughed at me. I'm sure that seeing a woman in a silk nightgown and sneakers yelling for her Mama probably led them to believe I was a madwoman, but man, if they had seen what I had seen, they'd probably help me look for her.
My eyes flickered against the buildings, blinded by the lights and disoriented by the loud snare drums and symbols of the brass band playing by Jackson Square. There was no way I could find mama through all those goddamn people, and even if I did, what the hell would I do? I wasn't a match against a bloodsucker, let alone in what I was wearing.
Like my clothing would have made any difference.
"Lisa!" I heard behind me. Past a crowd of people in the street, Mambo Nene and Esther were trying to reach me. But beyond the tourists in front of me was Mama, pushing through people with a feared expression. That's where I decided to go, following her until I had enough wiggle room around me by a quiet crosswalk, where I saw her running into an alley on the other side. Mambo Nene still called after me, but once the light was green, I made a run for it across the street and into that godforsaken alley, ripe with the smell of sewage and foreign from the rest of the block. My eyes locked onto the gold shimmer of Mama's blouse in the raggedy light of the backways. She was on the wet ground, still and quiet. I swear to you, the weight in my heart burdened me when I saw my own mother like that. I ran to her as quickly as I could.
"Mama." I cried. "Mama, what did they do to you?"
She didn't respond, and I feared the worst. Once I was right in front of her, tears streaming down my face, I quickly tried to turn her around and lift her up. But my attempt was in vain. Mama disappeared the moment my hand landed on hers. Literally, she disappeared; her body evaporated into thick black smoke the minute my hand touched her shoulder. The air grew cold as I stared at my palms like I had committed unspeakable sorcery. For a minute, I believed I killed my own mother. Then I came to the consensus that I was merely dreaming because that was the only explanation for what had just happened—my mama had disappeared into thin air because, in dreams, anything was possible.
I shut my eyes, pinched my skin, shook my head and tried anything and everything to wake up, but once I realized that nothing was working, I accepted the horrid truth—it wasn't a dream.
"What's happening?" I asked myself, knowing damn well I couldn't answer that question. The dust—the thick, black dust that was the embodiment of my mama moments before—suddenly started to weave and shift like it had a mind of its own. Within a few seconds, the dust manifested itself into a dark figure, gradually transforming into a man right before my eyes. All I did was stare at him; I couldn't move a muscle even though I wanted to run.
The man wore a black suit with a matching black bow tie. He was a skinny creole-looking man with hollow cheeks and a long face that matched the lifelessness of his drooping yellow eyes. That's when I knew; I saw the eyes come to life from the dust and I knew exactly what he was. I couldn't explain how he had just impersonated Mama, but I knew he was a bloodsucker—a vampire. And the nightmares and fears that Mama told me about hours prior were coming true.
They were coming for blood. My blood.
My body began working again as I stood and forced myself to run. I knew I had no chance of outrunning him, but I ran down the alley like I had a chance of surviving. I was almost to the sidewalk, yet he wasn't coming after me when I looked over my shoulder. Why wasn't he chasing me?
Because I was already cornered by then.
Another man jumped in front of me out of nowhere, blocking my chance of escape. I screamed and tripped over my own foot to a harsh landing on the ground. Cowering and stone-stiff, I stayed there and looked up at the second addition—darker than the suited man, with a ripped tunic and hair as thick as wool. His eyes weren't yellow, but a bright gray that could make a shined quarter envious.
"Beau," the man down the other way yelled to him. "Control yourself."
"I'm running on empty," Beau answered, almost growling. "That skinny Voodoo bitch robbed me of a feed."
"Not our problem right now."
I wanted to disappear into dust like Mama (or who I thought was Mama) did at my touch. I wanted to be back in my room, sleeping or crying or staring at the accented walls. I wanted to be in the shop, having listened to Mambo Nene and walking back up the staircase to my room. But instead, I was in a dark alley between two vampires that appeared to be fairly close to killing me; Beau's features were hard and distressed from having to refrain from using me as fuel.
I heard footsteps coming from one of the dark walls of the buildings. A woman—the woman from the forest who chose Samir as her victim—stepped forward.
"Congratulations, Tekoah," the woman said to the long-faced man. "Your plan worked."
"You had no faith in me, Jeanie?" he answered with no amusement in his face. Between the three of them, Tekoah was the only one without any type of southern twang in his speech. Tekoah's was purely conventional American.
"It's not that I didn't have faith in you, but I didn't think she'd fall for it. She ain't as smart as her mama after all."
"Watch your tongue," Beau told Jeanie. "No foul-mouthing. Abraham will have your head for it."
I heard Abraham's name and realized that they were three of the four Elders. Somehow, that's when the fight in me to survive kicked in again.
"I didn't mean to intrude on your ceremony," I said, refusing to look them in the eye. "W-we were just snooping where we didn't belong. I won't tell no one who you are. I-I'm sorry."
"She's 'sorry,'" Jeanie laughed. "God, that's pathetic."
"Jeanie—"
"Get up," she ordered, and she didn't have to tell me twice. I stumbled up and tried to hide the quakes in my legs as Jeanie stared at me with that burning gaze. I swallowed hard and waited for the end with dampened cheeks.
"You should be thanking Tekoah," she started. "He's the one that had to shift into that vile voodoo witch to get you out of the house."
The moment the words "vile voodoo witch" left her mouth about Mama, I wanted to wring my hands around her dead neck. But I held my tongue; threatening Jeanie was a death sentence. After her testament about thanking Tekoah, I waited for the end again. It was killing me, wondering when I was going to be their next victim. But what I was waiting for never came. In fact, the Elders suddenly began parting away from me and stood against the confinements of the alleyway walls. I didn't know if they were letting me go; I didn't want to risk running only to be shot down again. So, I stood still as a pole in a terrified state, more terrified than I was since seeing Abraham's wrath earlier. After a few moments, I knew why the Elders had parted.
A man—one whose face was darkened by the night—turned the corner into the alley and took long, agonizingly slow steps towards me. My lungs were dying slowly from anticipation; I just knew that he was the one to kill me.
"Go on and tell Abraham we got her," the mysterious man said. His voice was deep and smooth like melted butter; like he was born and groomed in the deepest bayou at the edge of The Boot. And at his command, the Elders were gone. Poof. Erased from the wretched alleyway. It was only him and me, and I still wondered if it would be a good idea to make a run for it; if he would either tackle me or kill me if I ran away.
I still didn't move. His stride brought him closer towards me until, in the lamp light, I finally saw the face that matched the voice. I froze stiff, breath caught deep in my throat. The corners of his mouth pulled up into a smile, yet it was anything but friendly.
"Well, aren't you a pretty little thing," he said down to me.
**
Now, keep in mind that I was still terrified enough to be close to soiling my panties.
There was still the fact that I was face to face with a vampire—the vampire who, upon further thought, was in fact the one who killed Tia Valeria. And I was still aware of the fact that he had intentions of kidnapping me and taking me to Abraham for God knows what reason. But Jesus, I hated how delicious that man was to me upon seeing his face. I hated it.
He was clearly 6-foot-something as he looked down at my short frame, his skin the shade of pure dark copper. Those eyes of his were like Abraham's but a little lighter, heated to a deep amber color that, was of course, impossible for a human being to possess. He gave me a deep, hardened look and clenched his jaw; the lamp light defined the sharpness of his jaw and his chiseled cheekbones.
"I thought you'd know better than to be out running around after what you saw," he said to me. There was no humor in his voice. It sounded like animosity. But I didn't care too much for his tone since I was too busy eyeing the blood on his button-up with certainty that it belonged to Tia.
"Don't matter," he continued. "Abraham will be happy we got you regardless."
"Please," I pleaded. What was the point? "I didn't mean to intrude on you guys. I was being foolish; we didn't mean any harm. We haven't told anyone, I swear."
Seeing how annoyed he was becoming with my crying made me sob even harder. With an eye roll, he walked closer to me, moving faster as I backed away. But both of us stopped the moment my Mama screamed in our direction from the other end of the alley. My heart did flips in my chest, knowing she was there to save me.
"Hezekiah!" she shouted. "Don't you dare touch her!"
I knew his name then—Hezekiah—and couldn't help but garner goosebumps every single time Mama yelled his name in anger. I thought my chances were improved, so I ran for it as fast as I could. But even though I was fast, Hezekiah was much faster. Immediately, Hezekiah grabbed me mid-sprint and wrapped his arm around my neck, pinning my back against his body. He tilted my head far right so my neck was strained and stretched for him. I cried and begged him not to do what I thought he was going to do, and the Coterie did the exact same.
"Alize," he replied to Mama. "How long it's been? You haven't aged a day now, have you?"
The entire Coterie, including the novitiates, were at mama's side. They looked more horrified than I wished they did; I wished they wore looks of confidence and assertiveness like they were sure they were going to get me out of the mess I got myself into.
"Hezekiah," Mambo Nene began, "you got no business on our goddamn territory, Mr. Mercier!"
He laughed, though it seemed to dance around deep in his chest more than expelling out of his mouth. "We using last names now? Fair enough. But as a matter of fact, 'ole Nene, I do got business here. You see, I'm here to collect. You probably didn't realize, but she was on our territory when she was sneaking around in our business." His voice grew louder like he was enjoying every sentence he was saying. "You know the rules—Blood Oath is now broken. I've got to make sure we all stay in line, and I can't do that if you don't keep up your end of the bargain."
"This ain't fair and you know it! Abraham planned this shit all along and that wasn't in that goddamn agreement! He killed Terah—"
"He challenged Terah, and Terah went ahead and lost," Hezekiah told Mama. "Far as I'm concerned, that seems pretty fair to me. And as I said before, I'm just here to collect this little way-finder off your hands. Any issues you got with Abraham ain't got nothing to do with me."
From that point, it was the first time I had ever seen Mama beg. She went ahead and begged Hezekiah not to do whatever he had planned. But the passiveness in his replies crippled the hope inside me.
"You know," he started again. "Tia Valeria was real nice on my pallete, even though she was a vile voodoo rat. But this one here?" he buried his nose into my hair and inhaled deeply. "Shit, does she smell good. So pure; she ain't turn into none of y'all yet, has she?"
Hezekiah's lips suddenly began slowly grazing the skin on my bare neck and shoulder. He was so cold, even in the midnight heat; I shuddered in his hold and shut my eyes tight, waiting for what I was anxiously dreading for the past ten minutes to happen.
But it didn't happen. In seconds, he shifted his arm to around my waist and held me painfully tight against him.
"I'll make sure to give Abraham your regards," he told the entire Coterie, and amidst the shouts and protests from them, Hezekiah took off with me.
Everything became black and dreamless after that.
**
** The last thing anyone would want is to wake up in a place they don't recognize. Especially when that said place is certainly the home of bloodthirsty monsters. My eyes were heavier that weights when I tried to open them. Little by little, my lids revealed a dark room covered wall-to-wall with French provincial décor that was shadowed by the candles hanging upon the corners. Immediately I sat up, the world spinning around me. My glasses were on the bedside table by a lantern. Quickly, I put them back on and all of my senses started to click at once—I smelled what I thought was cocoa and raspberry. I saw the scenery out the window of deep-rooted trees with a marsh about a mile away, haunting in the night. I felt my skin chilled in the cold air but damp with sweat, and tasted a hint of blood in my mouth. But what scared me most wa
** "The Shack" was a rundown piece of shit that made me miss the vampire-mansion-lair-dungeon-of-doom. It was in the middle of nowhere. Literally, it was in the middle ofnowhere. The only neighbors were some gators in the bayou and maybe some birds and lizards. Oh! And don't forget those crickets! The shack was nestled deep in a bayou that was probably on no map in existence. Abraham told Hezekiah to make sure that we weren't followed—that was a pretty easy task to fulfill. Hezekiah hauled me through the front door and set me on the floor with absolutely no courtesy or gentleness in his grip. My neck was still aching and my body was weak, so him throwing me around like a rag doll was counter-intuitive.
Hezekiah made me undress in front of him into the clothes he had brought me. "You lost the privilege of privacy when you tried to kill me," he said when I asked why I couldn't get a minute to myself to change. Knowing there was absolutely no use in arguing with him after the 'entanglement' he put us in moments before, I turned my back and began to undress. Even though I couldn't see him, I knew he was drinking me up like a goblet filled with blood the moment I slipped off the straps of my nightgown. I pulled out the dress that was in the bag Hezekiah brought in. It was long (thankfully), violet, and thin against my fingertips. The accents gathered at the bottom but feathered out once they reached the top. I appreciated that it was sleeveless, but that's about it. The dress was hideous to me besides that factor. Regardless of its desig
I didn't know that "fat vampires" were such a thing. That's what Mr. Boone was—a big fat man that could barely keep the buttons of his suit together. His office was downstairs in the basement of the Jubilee, but you know what else was also downstairs? Mr. Boone's training grounds for the Rejects. Some of them controlled themselves around me (most likely due to Hezekiah's presence), while others became rabid at my scent. Those rabid ones were behind cold steel bars, fortunately. It's clear which newbies needed a little more training in the art of self-control. Mr. Boone's office was hot enough to the point where I felt like I was suffocating. There were no fans (like he'd need one) and no windows; I was sweating like a slave. It was dark, too. Like the rooms in Abraham's house, Mr. Boone's office was lit by weak lanterns.
**"Here's the changing room, in case your clothes get a little too bloody for them to be wearable." Rashida guided me through the thrall's quarters, explaining to me where everything was as if I was going to take up permanent residency. I was still in shock that I was abandoned there, but then again, why did I expect anything more from Hezekiah? Why did I expect anything more from a vampire, at that? Rashida walked me through the changing room—a small area filled with vanities, lockers and naked women. The thralls stared me down like I didn't belong there or like I was some sort of parasite that was treading my way through. Rashida had to hold my hand and pull me through since my body was nearly immobile. Her words barely registered in my head; my eyes flickered left and rig
**My kidnapping, in Mama's mind, was a declaration of war.Mama was in hysterics when we got back to the shop. Every House was there; the place was packed to the roof. The Coterie ordered everyone to pack what was needed and get ready to travel to the "safe house" at the first moment of sunrise."That bloodsucking son of a bitch!" she exclaimed in her study. In a large box, she was packing everything—charms, books, time logs, documents. Mama's shop housed every important asset to the Coterie, so they made sure that they left nothing behind for Abraham to use against us again.I sat in the chair across from the desk and watched her run around like a beheaded chicken, eyes as angry as a cruel sea. Mambo Nene, Mother Babette
Hezekiah stepped around slowly, examining my room with steps that were mute against the old flooring. His eyes narrowed and studied my books, the closet, the TV and everything else. The judgmental state of his gaze made me self-conscious. "You're inside," I tell him. "Now, what is it that you want?" Hezekiah reaches deep into his pocket and pulls out my pendant—the deep blue gris-gris Mama gifted me the day I arrived, blessed by Legba's veve stamped on the front. Against my better judgment, I smiled. "My pendant," I sighed out in relief. "You kept it?" "Actually, I lost it at first. When the Coterie came to the Jubilee, the Elders were the first ones out. Not only did I get separated from you, but I got separated from your little
Remember when I said that I missed Hezekiah right when he left? Well, I immediately retracted that statement when I woke up. My eyes shot open at the sound of loud thumping followed by shouting. Quickly, I sat up in my bed and looked around my room before slipping on a robe and slippers. The shouting was amplified once my door was opened—the Coterie. "We gave it to you, Alize!" Mother Babette yelled. "I know that! But now, it's gone! It isgone." Everyone was in the meeting room on the second floor—the Coterie and their novitiates stood in the middle while the other House members stood on the outside of the circle, whispering to each other with scared faces. I inched into the room slowly as Mother Babette went on.
** When the day was over, I sat on my bed in my room, staring at the blank walls and listening to the insects make music outside in the night. I couldn't help but smile, and I was eager for the next day I would spend with Sajida. The entire day consisted of working on my meditative skills and reading spell books, but it made me want more. I needed more. When I was around Sajida, I saw a future for myself that I could never see when I was around the Coterie. And despite Sajida's claim that her cooking wouldn't be a daily occurrence, we ended up having gumbo for dinner; she admitted that she had begun prepping for it that morning before I woke up. I looked down at my hands as I sat on the bed. There was nothing interesting about them; they were normal hands. They were not Sajida's
** 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
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
** 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
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. **
** 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.
** 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.
** 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
** 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