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Authors: Gregory Lamberson

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BOOK: Tortured Spirits
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“We're sorry,” Maria said. “We meant well.”

“Sometimes trouble is a good thing. It spurs men and women to action.”

Jake gestured at the white snake around her neck. The serpent studied him and Maria. “I killed a snake just like that the other night.”

Pharah smiled. “Do you really think so?”

Maria stepped back. “Please don't tell me that's the same snake.”

“Miriam told me you were coming. She trusted you, but I wanted to know your intentions for myself. This snake is my familiar, like a witch's cat. It contains a small piece of my soul. I had it smuggled into your room to observe you, and I watched you through its eyes.”

“What did you learn?” Jake said.

“That you're afraid of snakes,” she said to Maria, then turned to Jake. “And you're not.”

“I'm over my fear of snakes,” Maria said. “Just not ghost snakes.”

“You have nothing to fear.” Pharah grasped the snake below its head and held it close to her face. “This is neither a snake nor a ghost. It's the symbol of this church.”

“You worship that?” Jake said.

“No. We worship Bondye, the one true god. But he is too great, and we're too insignificant to pray to him directly. So we pray to the Loa, who serve as intermediaries between our world and the next.”

“Like saints,” Maria said.

“The Loa are lesser gods, like angels and demons. Malvado and my mother, Mambo Catoute, worship Kalfu, one of the Petro Loa, the aggressive beings.”

Kalfu,
Jake thought with growing realization. Katrina had worshipped Kalfu.

Pharah gestured at the table. “Please sit down. Finish your coffee. You need liquids to purge your system.”

Jake and Maria sat again, but Jorge offered his seat to Pharah, who accepted it.

“We're safe for the moment,” Pharah said. “My bodyguards are protecting the cave's mouth.”

“Kalfu's supposed to be a badass,” Jake said, which caused Maria to raise her eyebrows.

Pharah seemed pleased. “You know of him? Good. It will save us some discussion.”

“We had a zonbie problem in New York City last year.”

Pharah nodded. “Ramera Evans.”

“Katrina,” Maria said, echoing Jake's thoughts.

“She came here years ago and asked for my help with a research project she was doing on vodou.”

Afterlife,
Jake thought. It always came back to Old Nick.

“I turned her away. My mother did not. Ramera spent a year studying with her. I wasn't surprised to hear she started her own Black Magic operation under another name.”

“She told me she sacrificed her infant to Kalfu in exchange for the secrets of Black Magic,” Jake said.

“My mother did the same thing. The child would have been my older sister.”

Maria set her coffee down. “You travel with bodyguards, and people know you're the leader of this White Church. If Malvado's declared war on your religion, why hasn't he killed or imprisoned you?”

“Even Malvado knows you can't force people to worship a god against their choosing. Everything is a choice always. Members of the Church of the Black Snake get the best jobs, the best interest rates with the bank, the best schools for their children. Malvado's opposed to creating martyrs, which is why Andre Santiago remains alive in El Miedo. He doesn't see me as a real threat because I'm a woman. And I suppose I've remained free because Puri Catoute is my mother and Malvado is my father, though he's never claimed me.” Pharah looked around at the surprised expressions in the room and chuckled. “Malvado has his way with all the women in his court. He keeps two wives in the palace and twice as many mistresses. His sons are just as bad.”

“What turned you to the White Church?” Maria said.

“Bondye turned me to it! I grew up in the palace in the Black Church with my mother, who groomed me to one day replace her. But I had a spiritual awakening and left the palace to live among the people and study with clerics. My mother was outraged and never forgave me. But she pretended to when I married and had children of my own. I thought I'd raised my eldest daughter, Sivelia, properly,
but my mother seduced her with the palace lifestyle and indoctrinated her into the Black Church. Now it's me who will not forgive her. But I have other children, and they know better than to make the same mistake Sivelia has.”

Jake finished his coffee.

Pharah reached over and felt his forehead. “You're in a bad state. And I don't mean Pavot Island.”

“Tell me about it.”

“Get back on that cot so I can treat you.”

What the hell?
Jake clambered onto the cot.

Pharah tapped Maria's arm. “Remove his shirt and pants.”

Pulling Jake's shirt over his head, Maria whispered, “Not exactly what I had in mind.”

“Me, either.”

Jake's shorts joined his shirt on the floor, and he stared at the ceiling.

Pharah pulled her chair over to the bed and sat. “Give me that jar.”

Stephane passed her a large pickle jar filled with murky water.

“What's that?” Jake said with alarm creeping into his voice.

Pharah unscrewed the jar's lid. “Nothing for you to worry about, dear.” She took a pair of tongs out of her pocket and dipped them into the water. Jake recalled Kira Thorn doing the same thing once. The tongs came out holding a five-inch-long dark shape that glistened and curled in the air. “It's just a leech.”

“That's damned big for a leech.”

“I breed them this way. Wipe that look off your face. You've fought soldiers and zonbies. Don't be afraid of a little bloodsucker.”

“I realize vodou is an ancient religion, but leeches don't do a damned bit of good. All they do is leave sores and scars.”

“That's where you're wrong. These leeches will suck the Black Magic out of your body. The doctors who once used them got the idea from Houngans. They just didn't know what they were doing or why.”

Pharah dropped the leech on Jake's stomach, and he shrieked at the slimy sensation.

“Don't be a baby,” Maria said.

It took only one minute for Pharah to apply six leeches to Jake's body. He shuddered as he felt them adhering to his flesh and sucking on it.

Pharah raised two fingers. “In two hours, the Magic will be out of your system. Then you'll only have to worry about the psychological addiction. I brought your belongings from your resort suite, by the way. We removed them so my mother could not use them against you. Change into fresh clothes, take what you need, and burn the rest. No one here needs to be connected to you.” Turning to leave, she spoke to Maria. “Keep him drinking liquids.”

“I will.”

Facing the men, she said, “Libération de I'île Pavot.”

“Libération de I'île Pavot,” they said in unison.

Mambo Catoute seethed with anger as she crossed the front courtyard of the Black Church. She had known Sivelia was ambitious and impatient, but she had not suspected the girl was foolish enough to conspire with Najac against her and
Malvado. Not only did she feel betrayed, she felt stupid and embarrassed. She would have to work hard to regain Malvado's confidence.

She had been cultivating Sivelia since the girl had turned fourteen, had wooed her with the rich lifestyle afforded by the palace, and had convinced her to preserve her virginity for Kalfu. Perhaps she had taught the bitch too well.

A soldier stationed at the entrance to the Black Church descended the concrete steps and waited at the bottom for her. Then he offered her his arm, which she took without saying anything, and helped her to the top.

Inside the lobby, Issagha stood waiting at the fountain with the little traitor. At least Issagha, sure and steady, was far enough along in his studies to replace Sivelia; Catoute wouldn't have to start over from scratch. But her dream of creating a dynasty of palace bokors had been dealt a fatal blow. Now all she could do was preserve her own standing in the cabinet. Facing her two subordinates, she showed no trace of emotion.

“Are you all right?” Sivelia said. “You look tired.”

Traitor!
“I'm fine, child. Thank you for your concern.”

“What happened?” Issagha said.

“Lord Malvado is beside himself over the loss of his slaves. He wants me to resurrect a fresh batch—too many for me to do by myself. You're both ready to assist me more than I've allowed you to in the past.”

Issagha bowed. “As you wish, Mambo.”

Catoute saw glee in Sivelia's eyes.

“Anything to help you, Grand-mère.”

How generous, you witch.
“Issagha, you know what materials are required. Gather and prepare enough for fifty resurrections and have them transported to the compound at the plantation outside Pavot City. Sivelia, come with me.”

Issagha bowed again and hurried off.

“Anything to lessen your burden.” Sivelia took Catoute by her arm. They entered the church together, their footsteps echoing along the balcony, and walked down the stairs.

“You've worked hard these past years, girl. It's all about to pay off for you.”

“I've only ever wanted to make you happy.”

Unseen by Sevilia, Catoute scowled. They passed the podium, descended the second flight of stairs, and entered the summoning room.

“Pull the bar down,” Catoute said.
I may as well get as much work out of you as I can.

Sivelia grabbed the thick wood in both hands and lowered the bar into the locked position. They crossed the floor, passing the second podium, and stopped at the summoning circle. The blood on the chalk had dried to the color of rust but remained intact.

“The blood's a mixture of yours and mine. Yours, because this summoning spell requires
sang menstruel.
Mine, because I've already made a pact with Kalfu. Once you've formed a similar bond, only your blood will be required. Gather the pieces of that candle, and kneel facing me in the center of the circle.”

Sivelia did as instructed. Catoute removed a box of kitchen matches from the podium and tossed it into the
circle. The box landed before Sivelia, who snatched it up.

“Holding the candle halves together, light the wick.”

Sivelia removed a long match, then stacked the candle's halves on top of each other. She struck the match on the box's side, producing a flame that flared and shrank with a gentle hiss. She looked at Catoute with anxious eyes, and the old woman nodded. Sivelia lit the wick, waited for its flame to grow, then shook the match out and tossed it aside.

“Chant with me,” Catoute said, and the ancient words rose from within her in a singsong fashion. She had only taught Sivelia the basics of the old tongue, so she chanted in a clear manner.

Sivelia repeated the words, her gaze darting from Catoute to the candle to the edges of the circle.

A shadow passed over the circle alone, and a breeze caused the flame to flicker. Catoute stopped chanting, and Sivelia did the same.

Now we'll see what you're really made of.

The top of Kalfu's head materialized through the floor, and the demon rose, facing Sivelia, his back to Catoute, who moved along the circle's outer rim for a better view. Sivelia gasped as Kalfu's delicate features settled before hers. Catoute saw Kalfu's red eyes reflected in her granddaughter's. Kalfu continued to rise, and Sivelia tipped her head back to stare at his face. His penis became erect and Sivelia's eyes widened and she rose.

“You're beautiful,” Sivelia said, tears of wonder in her eyes.

Kalfu raised his hands to her face, then hesitated. His fingers danced in the air inches from her cheeks, and
then he jerked his head in Catoute's direction. “What's the meaning of this, old woman?”

“As I'm sure you know, Helman's escaped. Vasquez and some rebels rescued him from Malvado's plantation. But he's still on the island, and I intend to present him to you as promised. In the meantime, I honor you with this sacrifice.”

Sivelia stepped back, her features contorting. “Sacrifice?”

Catoute felt her face twitching with anger. “You plotted against me, girl. The incantation you just chanted was a call for sacrifice.”

Sivelia spun on one heel, attempting to flee the circle, but before she had reached the perimeter's edge Kalfu seized her hair and snatched her back. “Grand-mère, please!”

“You little ingrate,” Catoute hissed.

Sivelia pushed at Kalfu. “I've waited to give myself to you half my life!”

Kalfu pulled her close to him. “And I've observed you just as long. I had other plans for you—long-range plans. This old wretch has undermined us both.”

Catoute aimed her cane at Kalfu. “The bitch sought to undermine
me,
which I'm sure you knew all about. Curse your supposed noninterference. You could have warned me.”

“Let me go,” Sivelia said. “Her time is almost up, and I swear I'll serve you well.”

BOOK: Tortured Spirits
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