Chapter 3

 

One perk to having training sessions with Oggie in the evenings—I didn’t have to wake up at six a.m. anymore. The downside? My biological alarm clock woke me up anyway. I stubbornly tossed and turned for an extra hour in a futile attempt to capture a few extra minutes of shut-eye. I supposed I’d better get up, anyway, if I was going to have enough time to make myself presentable.

I stumbled out of bed and tripped over Pauli on the floor.

“Hey watch it, hoe!”

“How about not sleeping under my bed? You still have your bunk.” I hushed my voice, trying not to disturb Ashley and Sauron who, based on the symphony of snores coming from the opposite side of the room, were still asleep.

“I don’t have any eyelids. It’s darker under here.”

I coughed in my hand. “You do still have your own bed you could sleep under.”

“It’s more fun to be the monster under yours, honey.”

Pauli slithered up my bedpost and onto my mattress while I opened my wardrobe and checked out my bed head in the mirror I’d mounted to the door.

“You’re a hot mess, girl!” Pauli said.

“Yeah, no shit. Haven’t you noticed me in the mornings before?”

Pauli shook his arrow-shaped head. “Aida-Wedo never has sessions this early. I don’t think I’ve ever been up before you.”

“Well, now you have the privilege of witnessing my morning routine. Congratulations.”

“From one bitch to another, nothing but respect. This is when the magic happens.”

The girl who gives you your magic resents that comment, Isabelle said in the same groggy tone she usually used when I forced us awake this early for the sake of my beauty rituals.

“Isabelle would rather I sleep in like everyone else in our class… well, almost everyone else.”

I’d barely pulled my brush through my hair twice when the dormitory lights flashed on, forcing me to squint.

“Time to get up!” Ellie announced, sounding far more chipper than any human being should at this time of the morning.

“Ellie, what the hell?” I asked as Ashley pulled her covers over her face. Sauron was still snoring—sounded like a lumberjack at work.

Ellie flashed the lights on and off a few times. Provoking the girl whose aspect gave her power over thunderstorms like that was rather weak. I half hoped Sauron would toss a lightning bolt up Ellie’s butt in response. I got up early for a reason—Ellie woke up early because she liked it. Lightning up the tush might reduce her mood to something that more closely resembled that of a human being.

“Headmistress Erzulie has canceled today’s classes,” Ellie declared as Sauron looked at her, squinting.

“Good. Then let us go back to fucking sleep!” Sauron said.

“She canceled classes,” Ellie said matter-of-factly, “and has insisted that the whole school assemble in the cathedral.”

“The cathedral?” I asked.

“St. Louis Cathedral-Basilica,” Ellie said.

I scrunched my brow. “The Voodoo Academy is having a school assembly in the Catholic cathedral?”

“Of course.” Ellie nodded. “It’s tradition that we hold assemblies there.”

I always hated school assemblies when I went to St. Bonaventure’s. They were basically pep rallies to cheer on the soccer team or some shit that I never cared about. School pride. We’ve got spirit, yes we do. We’ve got spirit, well, fuck you! Rah. Rah. Rah. Who needs that? Those were the frivolities of high school. This is the Voodoo Academy. What the hell did we need a pep rally for?

“And Erzulie says that everyone should wear black.”

I looked at Ellie incredulously. “Heaven forbid we don’t show our school colors.”

Ellie shrugged. “I don’t think we have school colors.”

“Good,” I said. “Because I mostly wear black these days anyway.”

“What’s this about?” Ashley asked as she rolled out of bed, tying her blond hair back into a ponytail.

“Didn’t you hear?” I asked. “The quidditch team is taking on Hogwarts at state!”

Ashley chuckled.

“Quidditch isn’t real,” Ellie said. “And I don’t think Hogwarts is, either.”

“I was being sarcastic,” I said.

“Oh,” Ellie said. “Well, I cannot say what the occasion is. All I know is that it must be important.”

Sauron nodded as she brushed her teeth. “Only one school assembly has been called in the last fifty years.” Somehow she managed to talk as she brushed without drooling all over the floor. I was mildly impressed.

“And what was the reason for it?” I asked.

“You two Mulledys were.”

“We were the reason for an assembly?” Ashley asked.

“Not exactly,” Sauron said. “But you were involved. It was when Baron Samedi disappeared.”

“And they assembled… to mourn his loss?” I asked.

Sauron shrugged. “I don’t know. I was just a kid. I just remember people talking about it.”

I exchanged glances with Ashley, then looked back at Ellie. “So this isn’t going to be a pep rally?”

“I doubt it,” Ellie said. “But that sounds fun.”

I rolled my eyes. “Yeah, as fun as a herpe.”

“You have the herps, too?” Ellie said, a hint of excitement in her voice as she raised a hand in an attempt to elicit a high five.

“No… I don’t. I was just making a joke. Sorry I can’t join you in a celebration of STD pride.”

Ellie slowly lowered her hand. She seriously looked bummed out that I didn’t have herpes. Was she really that desperate for a friend? I almost felt bad.

“But I do!” Pauli said. “I’d slap you five, but you know, no digits. Actually, come to think of it. My body had herpes… I don’t think I do anymore! How about that! I’m cured!”

I chuckled. “Always look on the bright side of life, right?”

“It’s the only way to live, honey! Embrace the fabulous, no matter what. Life’s too short to dwell on shit that sucks.”

“True that,” Ashley added. “You guys ready to head out?”

I looked at myself in the mirror again. “Not exactly… but I guess this will have to do.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

* * * * *

We stopped for a bowl of grits at one of the shops—all our meals in Vilokan were free, comped by the Academy. Not a bad deal—even though pretty much everything they made down here was spicy as hell… except for the sweet potato pie. And the grits. The stuff just stuck to my throat. Thankfully, they had an abundance of sweet tea to chase it all down.

We entered Père Antoine Alley and proceeded toward the cathedral. A sign was hung on the front doors—Closed for Cleaning.

I don’t think that applies to us, Isabelle said.

She was right—in fact, “cleaning” was probably nothing more than a pretense for our gathering. The last thing the Church would want anyone to know was that they allowed a bunch of vodouisants to use their most holy sanctuary for anything, since you know… Voodoo is of the devil.

I pressed on the door and walked inside, the smell of frankincense greeting me as I stepped into the nave. I might have been a Mambo in training, but I was still a Catholic girl at heart. Something about this place… it always calmed me. One thing the Catholics do well is create environments that give their cathedrals a sense of transcendence. It felt like walking between heaven and earth—something that, oddly enough, I’d literally done recently. More or less. Strangely, the cathedral gave me a similar feeling. Serenity… peace… a sense that there really was some fellow out there, a God in charge, who could see the big picture. In whose mysteries the world actually made sense even though everything going on from my feeble perspective seemed insensible at times. Walking in here… it was like I could feel the hand of the Divine on my shoulder just saying, “Don’t sweat it. I’ve got this.”

I noticed several students staring at me as I walked in, my fellow first-years beside me. I imagined I wasn’t particularly well-liked by most of them. They were mostly from traditional families—like Nico and Sauron. And most of the school probably thought I was responsible for unleashing Kalfu on the world. It wasn’t a fair accusation by any means—but I was involved more than any of them had been.

Ellie was walking ahead of me and selected the front pew—of course, she’d pick the one in the front. No one ever sat in the front pew in mass. Not sure why. It was like an obligatory buffer between the priest and the congregation—particularly since my priest had always had a tendency to inadvertently spit while he talked. The first row of pews was like the “splash zone” at Sea World.

I genuflected and crossed myself before entering the pew. No one else did, except for Ashley of course. We must have been the only Catholic girls in the Voodoo Academy. Who woulda thunk?

“This place is so pretty!” Ellie said, smiling widely.

I just nodded. I doubted she’d ever attended a mass in her life. Probably had no idea the sense of reverence a place like this evoked. But she was right—it was pretty. Beautiful, really. That’s a better word, I think. It has a depth to it that “pretty” seems to gloss over. A depth that was likely lost on Ellie.

Pauli slithered around the back of my neck, sending shivers down my spine.

“Stop that,” I whispered as forcefully as I could while retaining my hushed tone. It was going to take a while before I got used to Pauli like this.

“Please rise,” said a thundering voice, resonating throughout the cathedral. It was Oggie.

I stood along with the rest of the student body as we turned to the back of the room. Erzulie processed first, holding in her hands some kind of pot—colorful, decorated with what looked like tribal symbols. They vaguely resembled Voodoo veves but were subtly different.

Oggie followed behind her, with Maman Brigitte, Aida-Wedo, and Sogbo all processing behind in single file. They walked slowly, in step, and deliberately.

I wasn’t sure what the fuck was going on, but every one of them looked deathly serious.

I think this is a funeral, Isabelle said.

I scrunched my brow. “Are you sure?” I whispered.

That pot… I’ve seen some like it before. The other slaves on the plantations, the ones who’d been purchased from Haiti, they made pots like these. Used them in their death rites.

“When a mortal dies,” Erzulie said, now standing just in front of the chancel and altar, “the nearly departed’s soul will wander the earth for seven days before moving on. In our tradition, a Hougan or Mambo might harness such souls in a vessel such as this, that their souls might be aided in the journey beyond. Mr. Freeman was a friend of ours. A first-year student, but gifted beyond his years. Due to an unfortunate accident, the details of which all of you are aware…”

When Erzulie said that, she looked directly at me. It felt like the whole room was staring at me, their gazes penetrating the back of my skull.

“Now we need to be unified more than ever before,” Erzulie continued. “Our safety, our very existence as a school, depends on it. So, in honor of Nico Freeman, I am evoking the Trials.”

Audible gasps and muffled chatter filled the room.

“What are the Trials?” I asked Pauli, whose forked tongue annoyingly tickled the back of my right ear.

“Don’t know exactly. Only happened twice before. Once after emancipation. Again when Baron Samedi went away.”

“The Trials are a time-honored tradition. A friendly competition meant to bring us together—unite us around a victor. But unlike previous Trials where any citizen of Vilokan could be nominated to compete, at the insistence of the very first victor, Queen Laveau herself, the participants of these Trials will be chosen solely from the student population.”

Another round of gasps, followed by people hushing one another, filled the room.

“The reason for this unprecedented limitation is simple. The ward that protects us, thanks to the older Miss Mulledy, is tied to the Academy. It is you, the students, who hold the fate of both our school and all of Vilokan in your hands. Thus, it must be one of you around whom we must all rally as High Hougan or Mambo. And as is always customary, it is the one who is chosen who will receive the Blessing.”

I scrunched my brow. I wasn’t sure what the “Blessing” was. Isabelle sensed my confusion.

I don’t know what it is either.

Pauli leaned over. “The last time it was the Blessing of Dumballah. The victor acquired the power of creation itself.”

That’s like my magic, Isabelle said. My power… the magica I access comes from the Tree of Life.

“One competitor will be chosen from each of the colleges. Any of you might be nominated by any of your classmates. Or you might nominate yourselves. The competitor will be chosen from amongst the names nominated. If no student is nominated, the most advanced student in each college will be selected. If there are multiple nominations from a college, I will choose the participant based on merit, not necessarily seniority. If you are chosen, tradition dictates that you cannot refuse. To do so would dishonor Mr. Freeman, in whose name these Trials are dedicated.

“I urge you to make your nominations with care. Lives have been lost in these Trials before—the honor to compete is not for the faint of heart. Nor is it for those of divided loyalties.”

Again, Erzulie glanced at me. What the fuck… she actually knew I was not responsible for what happened. Nico… Kalfu… any of it. If anyone was to blame, Oggie was the one who insisted that the gate be closed, leaving Nico in Guinee. And Maman Brigitte was the one who started all this crap to begin with, thinking that summoning Kalfu out of Papa Legba—God rest his soul, or whatever the equivalent of a soul was that a Loa possessed, wherever he might be—was a way to force her hubby, Baron Samedi, to return. All of this shit could be hung on the Loa themselves. Not like they’d take responsibility. So long as half the student body wanted to blame me, far be it from them to say anything different.

Erzulie lifted her hand—showing everyone her three rings, one corresponding to each of her three Loa husbands. “It would not be fitting that any Loa who sponsors one of our colleges should judge the Trials, lest perceptions of bias be introduced. Thus, I have called upon one of my other husbands.

The doors to the sanctuary opened. The man who appeared was fair-skinned, as if he hadn’t seen the sun in years. His features, however, clearly suggested an African descent. He wore only a small cloth over his loins. He had a chiseled physique—slight of build but with well-defined musculature. Forget a six-pack. This guy had an eight-pack. The dude looked like he worked out—his upper body only. He must hate leg day. His legs were wobbly. His hair was tightly braided in rows. A young girl, maybe fifteen, followed behind him with a pail of water, delicately caressing her master with a wet sponge as he moved.

“I give to you Agwe, Loa of the Sea,” Erzulie announced. “You will have to be patient with my dear husband—it is quite literally his first day with his new legs.”

“New legs?” I asked Pauli in a whisper. “Somewhere there’s a chicken stuck in the mud. Totally pissed off because this guy stole its legs.”

“He’s of the Mer. He is more accustomed to a tail and fins. These must be the product of some kind of metamorphosis spell.”

Of the Mer? I shook my head—after the vampires, the zombies, my own dragon elemental, and the whole Voodoo world, I was less than shocked to discover that yet another mythical creature existed. Thus, my fixation on his legs. You’d think if he had access to magic that allowed him to swap out limbs, he’d choose legs with a bit more substance. Legs that were, minimally, capable of actually walking.