Love Charms (148 page)

I don't know how long we had been gone—no one seemed to have
moved and Scorpio still looked frightened and pale. The way my luck ran instead
of a few minutes being a few years in real time, I probably came back before I
left. I shoved myself up from the floor and instinctively positioned myself
again between Scorpio and Coyote. “Seems as if the possession portion of the
ceremony is over, right?” I thought again about how the Loa kept track of the
tab. Would Ghede/Coyote be willing to write this off under technicalities? I'm
usually up for sex, but this time around I felt my balls trying to crawl up
inside of me. I didn't want Coyote possessing me or Scorpio. It just struck me
as plain wrong. Not that Coyote was a stranger to wrongness.

Long time ago, Coyote had seven daughters. The story says they
were beautiful and as they grew older Coyote began to lust after them. When he
tried coming to them at night, they ran away and climbed to the top of a great
tree. They kept on climbing, higher and higher until they entered the sky and
became the constellation the non-Natives call the “Pleiades.”

Moth sighed. “You are the eternal optimist.”

“There's a tradition,” said Lady Chartreuse, “that when Ghede is
summoned for a request one keeps a cow's foreleg around. When he reaches out to
shake your hand you offer him the cow foreleg, because when he's ready to leave
he often takes with him what he holds. With the foreleg trick, you get to keep
your hand.”

“So whenever you shake hands with Coyote you should count your
fingers afterward. That sounds about right.”

“Hey—I'm still in the room,” Coyote laughed, upending
another bottle of rum. “One of the teachings of Ghede is that death is beyond
all rules. I can do anything I want.” The bottle he was holding turned into a
flame that shot upwards. “Death, humor and sex, little fishy. Name three things
that level all playing fields.”

“In the presence of Papa Ghede,” recited Moth, “At birth, at
making love, or in your coffins, Ghede will strip you down to your basic
humanity.” Scorpio seemed to nod in agreement.

“Are you ready?” He was back into the skull face horror, but I
suppose he was playing to the crowd of the white clad followers who filled the
area. I wasn’t sure which of us he was addressing or if he meant all of us.

He lifted his skeletal hands (when did that happen?) and the
atmosphere grew heavy and humid and reminded me of being in a sweatlodge or a
sauna. The purple glow increased, encompassing the acolytes and beyond. Moth
started up Ghede’s Song, her voice sharp in the emptiness.

“This is delicate,” Coyote said. “This is the moment you must all
put your heart into the ceremony. This is the moment you must push what you are
into the Song.”

I thought about this. I remembered my father’s people always told
us to watch what Coyote does and to do the opposite. I thought of that
spiritual string I had bound my White boy Nathan with, and how I had felt for
it. I reached out for a similar string that was tying me to Coyote. I found it
and wrapped my hands around it in a spiritual way. And then I PULLED. It felt
as if I were watching dominoes toppling. The energy in the room spiked and it
would appear I had switched the polarity.

Coyote had fallen on his ass. He started laughing and suddenly had
a new bottle of rum in his hand as he stood up. In the other he was holding a black
walking cane. He caught my eye and then pushed it between his legs as if he had
a massive hard on and he poked the tip of it towards the crotch of one of his
white dressed followers. When she echoed back his laughter, he lifted the cane
up and began to twirl it.

Lady Chartreuse said something that sounded like he was
mispronouncing “balance.” Seeing the confusion in my eyes he said, “Papa Ghede
is calling up the life energy by rapidly swinging between the two extremes.
What he does with a rattle or with the cane is just the representation of that
alternating current. Papa Ghede calls to the surface the connection between
life energy and sex that permeates the spirituality of Voudon. All of the
ceremonies have a goal of what we call in New Orleans
echofe
. It means
to heat things up. It's all about raising heat—raising luck—raising
life energy. Or to intensify sex in the wildest way. These are pretty much all
the same process. Papa Ghede gives an extra spurt of the intense power you need
to conquer life—to use it and embrace it rather than be conquered by it.”

“Or he can use the energy to conquer death,” whispered Moth.

By this time Coyote's cane had begun to pulse with a glowing light
of pale purple—almost a lilac. He lifted it up and a violet beam slammed
into Scorpio's chest. My brother's back arched and then he just wasn't there.

Chapter Twenty-Five

“What happened?” I was scared.

“Papa Ghede made his decision,” Moth answered. I had no idea what
she meant. I just knew Scorpio was gone. Again.

“Where is he?”

“Back in the Everyday world,” Lady Chartreuse said, her painted
lips shining from the swig of liquor she had just taken. “Papa Ghede found him
worthy of life, so he refused to keep him under the earth. If Papa Ghede will
not let you pass into the Land of the Dead, you cannot go.”

The sense of relief was so great I nearly collapsed. I didn't
realize how much tension I had been carrying. “Thank you, I whispered. I
realized I didn't know who I was thanking.

“He was judged worth of his life continuing,” explained Moth. “You
are aware time operates differently while you're in the in-between space. It
was just a matter of taking him to the time before he drowned—that and a
little heart healing so he wouldn't die again.”

“So,” I said, thinking all the
he's not a zombie or the second
coming of Jesus
explanations I had been saving wouldn't be needed,
“everything didn't happen? It was deleted? He didn't have a resurrection but a
reboot?”

“Oh, everything happened,” Moth said. “It's just that different people
will remember different things. Those of us who were pulling all the strings in
the in-between space will remember everything. Those closest to the Spirit
World will remember the most, and those least connected will have no memories
at all.”

“So—there will be no funeral because he won't need one, but
at least some of those who were at his funeral will remember at least part of
it? Even though this time around, they didn't actually go to the funeral
because this time it didn't happen?”

“Don't think about it too much—the time paradoxes will drive
you crazy. It's one of the reasons your Stories are told differently from one
community to another. In one place Coyote did something and in another place
Coyote didn't, but both Stories are true. Think of
Schrödinger's cat.” I must
have looked as stupid as I felt. Moth sighed. “
You need to understand that humans are really
good at denial,” she said. “The more uncomfortable they are with the Cosmic,
the more interest they'll find in a cup of coffee—or a bottle of rum.
Even for those, if they have a slight memory, they'll manage to soon convince
themselves it was just a dream or a half-forgotten something they saw on
television or on-line.”

“Tick tock,” said Coyote from behind me. “I think you've had
enough of a good time. That was a funny trick with the pulling. Besides, if I
keep you around this place any longer you'd probably break it.” He put the
sunglasses back on with the missing lens. “Besides, you keep reminding me of
myself when I was younger.” He hesitated and stepped in front of me. “And the
last thing I want to be reminded of is when I used to be young and stupid.”

I held my hand up before him. “Wait a minute while we think this
through—since Scorpio didn't die this time that means I don't have a
reason to go home from Uncle Feeney's pig farm. Could you cut me some slack and
just drop me off at my mom's? I'm pretty sure I learned everything I was
supposed to have gotten from the pig farm—and a lot I didn't want to
learn.”

“What the hell, kid?” He pulled his shades lower so he could show
me both of his eyes—which had switched to purple. “I just want you gone
before you convince my followers they should follow someone younger. I've
worked really hard to train them to act the way I want. I don't want you
importing any dangerous ideas.” His black cane was in his hand again and he
began to spin it until it became a black blur—a black hole. I started
feeling pulled into that hole and it was if I were yanked into a blender where
I whirled apart.

Chapter Twenty-Six

The only thing I was aware of was being cold in the darkness that
surrounded me. I remembered a Story that began with ice. The snow fell without
stopping and the waters were coated with ice as far as one could see. In the
beginning the Animal People had never seen snow before, and so it was exciting
and they danced in the showers of white flakes. But it soon grew so cold they
became concerned. The smaller ones would be lost in the drifts and the greater
ones had trouble traveling because of the snow’s depth. They realized the world
would die if they could not get warm.

“We need to pray and ask for the help of the Creator,” said one.
“We need the land to be warm once more and to send this Spirit of the Snow
away.” All agreed upon this, but they were unsure who would be the best to send
on such an important mission. Each was evaluated and deemed too slow or not
strong enough for such a long journey. In the end they chose Crow of Rainbows.
He was the greatest of all the ones that flew. His feathers gleamed in all the
colors of the world and his singing voice was the one always sought to bring
peace and harmony.

The journey to the Creator took four days and he had to fly past
the moon and then the sun, sailing gracefully past the stars. As he continued
to fly higher, the winds battered him with their icy fingers, but he fought on,
determined to help the others. At last he arrived, but the Creator was busy and
didn’t even notice him. The Crow of Rainbows started to sing the Song he loved
the most. He sang of the land and how it cherished and nourished every one.

The Creator turned from what he was doing and sought the source of
such breathtaking music. “My child,” the Creator called out, “I celebrate the
gift of your Song. Why do you seek me?” The Crow of Rainbows explained that the
People of Earth were endangered by the snow and that they wanted it taken away.
“Oh, my child, there is a place for the Spirit of the Snow as well. If I were
to un-make it, the Harmony would be disturbed.”

“Then what are we to do?”

“I will give to you the gift of Fire to keep you warm even in the
coldest of times.” He took wood and lit it with the sun so it glowed with
bright flames and radiated heat. “Take this Fire by the other end and return to
the Land as quickly as possible before the Fire can eat the wood.”

Thanking the Creator, the Crow of Rainbows returned as quickly as
he could fly as he feared the Fire would consume the wood before he made it
home. It kept eating the wood and came closer and closer to his beautiful
feathers. The Fire burned him and by the time he was almost there his feathers
were coated with the thick blackness of the Fire’s smoke so they were robbed of
the rainbow colors. Down, down, down he flew as he choked on the smoke and he
lost the ability to sing.

When he returned to the others they barely recognized him for he
was now as black as a shadow and his voice was so coarse they had difficulty
understanding him. He showed them how to use the gift of Fire to keep warm.
They melted the snow around them and sang in celebration, except for Crow, who
would never be able to sing again. He sat alone, saddened by his dark and dull
feathers and his harsh voice. He turned when he felt the wind caress his face
and saw the Creator before him.

“My child,” whispered the Creator. “You have sacrificed your gifts
because your heart was pure and you needed to help the others. In return I have
made you taste of the bitter smoke so when the Human People come they will
never seek you for food. They will see your feathers and hear your ruined voice
so they will never trap you in a cage and expect you to sing. I have given you
the gift of freedom.” The Creator laughed and showed Crow his dark feathers had
changed from lackluster to glossy and when the sun touched them the rainbows
had returned. “Let these colors remind others of the beauty of your courage and
spirit and how you saved the world.”

I woke up with a crow looking at me. “Thanks,” I said. “Great job
with the world-saving.” It mocked me with its harsh voice and flew away. I was
outside of the Agency Longhouse which was as black as the crow and a lot more
silent. Funeral canceled. I seemed to be pretty much in one piece and started
walking home. On the way I sang the Eagle Song just to make sure things were as
close to normal as I would probably ever get. No one died. That was a plus. I
didn’t think I’d get blamed for resurrecting Scorpio. Major plus. I wasn’t at
the pig farm. Lucky me.

Our place was just a little more than a mile away from the Longhouse. I
quickened my step and smiled when I saw the lights on and the noise of the
television set drifting across the yard. I hesitated for a moment, thinking
things were going too well and if I stepped inside the living room would be
full of zombies or something. Zombies creeped me out. Even if my brother might
technically be one. I took a deep breath and opened the door.

My mom and everyone of importance were there. Uncle Sly turned off
the television. “We need to talk,” she said. Scorpio emerged from the kitchen
and handed me a cup of coffee. He smiled but didn’t say anything. Crap.

“I suppose you remember everything.”

“Even telling you how much I wanted him back.” For a moment she
looked like she had at the funeral. She was like the Crow of Rainbows—almost
unrecognizable. Then she became herself again and radiated strength. “Thank
you,” she whispered. Her eyes were dry and she said, “Just don’t do it again.”
She glanced at Scorpio. “I am grateful, but this sort of thing isn’t part of
our tradition.”

I looked into Scorpio’s eyes. “Even the oldest song we sing was
once sung for the first time. The oldest ritual was once done for the first
time. Maybe it’s time we began some new traditions. I was told not all people
are uncomfortable with this. I did what I could because I thought it was best.”

“And for once you didn’t do it for yourself,” Scorpio said.
“Thanks. I owe you.” That was something I didn’t think would ever fall out of
his mouth. Then my mom hugged me and we went into the dining room where the
long table was covered with food. It was like a feast after a healing ceremony.
I guess that would be about right. Later I was happy to crawl into my own bed.
Capricorn kept looking at me as if I had grown another head, but I figured he’d
adjust. I hoped I would.