I couldn’t breathe. I began to wonder if my papa would really kill me. My pulse thundered in my ears. The world blurred.
Out in the darkness beyond the ring of light, beyond the ring of stones, something moved. My eyes rolled in my head, the only part of me I could control. As that movement passed a spot between stones, I saw the lights fall on a great black dog. It raced around us, round and round the circle. Why was it running in circles?
I went weak, as if I were slowly leaving a dream.
Suddenly the dog burst into the circle and leaped at my father.
My papa was not at all alarmed. He pointed at the dog and cried, “Down!”
The dog actually turned in mid-air. It fell to the ground, rolling and snapping.
Papa pointed. “Down. Be still.”
The dog crouched at his feet.
“Now show me your true form. Not that old man. I know that’s a disguise.”
The bright lights dimmed.
I slid to my knees, and all was darkness.
o0o
When I awoke, Veek was there. He and my father stood quite nearby, looking at a paper. I was sitting on the ground, propped against one of the big white slabs of limestone, beside a pile of sacks. The sacks smelled of spray paint and fresh plastic.
“Sign here. And here. Turn a little more toward the light, please,” my father said. My head thundered with pain. “It’s a good thing I let you dress yourself again, eh? You will not mind my saying that you are so dark-skinned, your face will be hard to distinguish in the video.”
“Show me the caul,” Veek said.
Papa looked at him shrewdly. “Very well.” He took his hand out of his pocket.
Instantly Veek grabbed it. They both held on. My father struggled greatly, but Veek kept his hand on it.
“Get outside the circle, Sophie,” Veek panted.
My father opened his mouth, and Veek reached out and clutched his throat.
I scrambled up, climbed the back of the limestone slab, and hid behind it, watching the two of them struggle.
At length Veek flung my father away from him.
They stood face to face. Papa brandished the caul. His hand was shaking, but he pointed it at Veek. “Stand.”
Veek stood, his hands slack at his sides. Oh, no!
“Daughter, bring him the paper.”
Veek said, “Stay, Sophie! I’ve made a boundary around the circle. Stay outside it and he can’t command you.”
“Bring it!” my father cried.
Carefully, experimentally, I breathed. I lifted my hand. I walked a little way around the outside of the circle, until I could see both their faces in the harsh light.
“It works, Veek,” I said.
“How?” my papa demanded. “I can hold you here forever.”
“I’m the guardian of Montmorency,” Veek said. “I choose to protect her.”
“But this commands you!” my father said through his teeth. He held out the caul in his fist, squeezing it. “It draws on your own power and defeats you.”
Veek stood absolutely still. Was he struggling? He seemed mesmerized by my father.
I groaned.
Papa relaxed. “This, Sophie, is the difference between the aristocrat and the halfbreed guttersnipe. I am trained to use power. I have learned to tap into it when I can. You,” he said to Veek. “Have you sought power? Or have you run away from it? Where do you get so much power? I know your eyes. You are a man who hides from power because you are convinced that power belongs to someone else, never to you. And if you find it, you use it in the dark.”
You have no idea, Papa, I thought.
My papa shrugged his shoulders and put the caul casually back in his pocket, though he left his hand there.
“Now you will tell me how you have lived so long.”
“Veek, don’t!” I said.
“Soyez tranquille, daughter, I won’t hurt him.” Papa walked around Veek, who stood motionless. “I have natural gifts in this direction,” he boasted. “See? I will use your strength against you again. Tell me, did you learn the tricks of vodou from your mother’s family? Who’s that fellow with the top hat, the skeleton man?” Veek said nothing. Papa pulled the caul out of his pocket and pointed it at him. “Tell me his name!”
“Baron Samedi,” Veek said levelly.
My papa cackled like a proper villain. “Baron Samedi! He will have to bow to me when I am the vicomte, for I’ll outrank him! And did he make you young forever like this?”
“Yes,” Veek said.
Papa cackled some more. “Come, Baron Samedi, and grant me more power!”
“No!” Veek blurted.
“Ah, you fear him? Excellent. I own your power and now, through you, I will own his! I command you, M’sieur le Vicomte, to bring the Baron here to me.”
I clutched my head. Merde, merde, merde, merde, merde.
“Very well.” Slowly, Veek nodded. “I have some questions for him, myself.”
“Veek, no!” I shrieked.
But Veek walked to the pile of plastic sacks, picked up a can of spray paint, and brought it back into the light. He bent and carefully sprayed something on the grass.
I circled the stones, peering. Oh, Dieu, it was the veve for the Baron.
My papa fidgeted, muttering, agitated, gloating. With his phone he took photographs of the thing Veek was drawing.
Veek stood. His expression changed. I could sense the fear in him.
“Veek, no,” I whispered.
My papa went still.
Then Veek prayed in Kreyol. Jake hadn’t taught me this one. Well, he hadn’t needed to, had he? Jake could talk to Samedi any time he liked. I shivered, remembering the mighty presence that had animated his failing body, that had seized my hand and Veek’s, and the enormous voice that had commanded us.
The air changed.
“Finally,” said that voice again.
All the hairs stood up on my arms and scalp.
The Baron’s voice was coming from my father’s mouth!
I climbed over the stone between me and Veek. I wanted badly to hold his hand.
“Stay outside the circle, Sophie,” Veek said, not taking his eyes from my father—who was not my father.
My papa’s tense face relaxed. Even his bones appeared to move, as if to make room for someone larger. His eyes grew dark.
I walked across the circle and came to stand with Veek. When I touched his elbow, I saw his lips twitch.
“Welcome, lord,” Veek said. “Here is rum for you.” He took a pint bottle out of his trouser pocket, unscrewed the top, and handed it to Papa—to Samedi. “Here is smoke for you.” He took out a cigar and handed it over.
Samedi drank the rum. He bit the end off the cigar and touched it to his tongue. Smoke came. I watched, fascinated, as he turned the cigar and put the other end in his mouth. The cigar burned.
Then he looked at me.