Chapter 4

 

“But we don’t even know for sure what the blessing will be for the victor,” Isabelle said as she held Mikah’s hands—a small table between them held a bucket full of crawdads. I’d promised her I’d let her take the reins so she and Mikah could have a date. There was no way in hell I’d nominate myself for the Trials. Half the school thought I should be expelled anyway—they blamed me for all the shit that went down. I was the last one who should be elevated to High Mambo, or whatever. It would be foolish to insert myself into the competition.

“Last time, the victor received a blessing from Dumballah,” Mikah said. “Do you realize what that means?”

Isabelle shook her head. “I know who Dumballah is. But they say he wields the power of creation. I already have that power.”

“This is different,” Mikah said. “Your power heals. It restores. You wield the elements and master creation. Dumballah can literally make anything he imagines. He creates ex nihilo!”

“Out of nothing?” Isabelle asked. “I thought only God could do that.”

“Bondye works through means. He uses the Loa as his agents. Dumballah turns Bondye’s imagination into reality.”

“And the winner receives that ability?”

Mikah shook his head. “Not exactly. The last winner received a blessing—not Dumballah’s aspect. He’d never grant that to a mortal. Can you imagine? But with his blessing he will create something, anything that the one who receives his blessing can imagine.”

“Could he bring back your father?”

Mikah bit his bottom lip. “He could make a new version of my father. A body, with his memories. It wouldn’t be his soul, though.”

“But think about it!” Isabelle exclaimed. “If it’s his memories, it’s basically him. You could win this.”

“So could you,” Mikah said.

“And what would I do with it?” Isabelle asked.

“Anything,” Mikah said. “And you and Annabelle together, you’d win. No one could beat the both of you together.”

“Annabelle doesn’t want to compete,” Isabelle said, much to my satisfaction. “She doesn’t want to be High Mambo. Besides, do you really think Erzulie would allow it? She hates us, it’s obvious.”

“Erzulie isn’t the judge,” Mikah said. “Agwe is.”

“And Agwe is married to her. She brought him here. If she didn’t think she could use him as a puppet, why not bring some other Loa who she didn’t happen to be married to?”

“Erzulie’s husbands… have proven to be less compliant with her wishes than her other lovers.”

Isabelle huffed. “And how many lovers does she have?”

Mikah shrugged. “As many as she’d like, I suppose. She’s supposed to be the Loa of love, but…”

“Sounds more like the Loa of lust,” Isabelle said, finishing Mikah’s thought.

“Precisely.”

“But with Dumballah’s blessing, think about what you and Annabelle might be able to do.”

We don’t even know that Dumballah’s blessing is the prize for the victor, I told Isabelle.

“And Annabelle is right. We’re just guessing that the winner would receive Dumballah’s blessing. And still more, I’m not God. Neither of us are. Who are we to create something new? How can we be trusted to wield that power responsibly?”

“That’s what the Trials will do—it will reveal a wise victor. Someone who will choose a blessing for the benefit of us all. Marie Laveau made the firmament—which has protected Vilokan for almost two centuries.”

“And the second victor. Who won the Trials when the Baron disappeared?”

Mikah smiled widely. “The victor was from College Samedi. He gave Brigitte the power to govern the underworld as the Baron had before, the power to bestow the aspect of the green Ghede. It’s the whole reason the college was able to continue.”

“So both previous victors used Dumballah’s blessing to protect… to save Vilokan, to preserve the Academy.”

Mikah nodded.

If I won, I’d give Pauli his body back, I told Isabelle.

“If Annabelle only had one choice, one wish or blessing, she’d think about her friend first. Not Vilokan.”

“I understand that,” Mikah said. “Which is why I cannot compete. If I only had one choice, one blessing, you’re right. I’d bring back my father. I am not the High Hougan that the times demand.”

“It has to be one of us,” Isabelle said. “We are the only two students Oggie has. He’s graduated the rest.”

Mikah cringed. “I hate that he did that. He graduates the students not when they’ve mastered the art but when he has given up on them. When he thinks he can do nothing more to help them grow in his aspect.”

Isabelle peeled another crawdad and popped it into our mouth before chucking the shell into a bucket on the edge of the table. “You’re the senior student, so it’s going to end up being you. If you don’t trust that you’d use Dumballah’s blessing wisely, then don’t win.”

Mikah laughed. “I suppose I could do that. Goes against my nature, you know.”

“You’re a competitor.”

“I used to be a sprinter,” Mikah said.

“Seriously?” Isabelle asked. “How didn’t I know that about you?”

“For the Ethiopian Olympic team. I didn’t win any medals or anything.”

“But you were in the games? That’s huge!” Isabelle exclaimed.

“It isn’t my greatest accomplishment.”

I felt my left eyebrow rise. Mikah chuckled.

“You are my greatest accomplishment.”

I made gagging sounds in our head, loud enough to make sure Isabelle could hear. First, the girl should reject the idea that she’s some guy’s accomplishment. Something to conquer. To win. But based on the warmth I felt flush across our cheeks, she somehow found the idea sweet. I suppose I shouldn’t have expected much more from a girl who likes rom-coms.

“I think if you won, you’d make the right choice,” Isabelle said.

“I was trying to change the subject.” Mikah laughed. “I thought I’d succeeded!”

Isabelle giggled. “You did. And I’m not going to say anything more about it. But I just wanted you to know. I believe in you.”

Mikah smiled and leaned in.

Oh shit, I thought. Here comes a crawdad kiss…

Somehow, it still tasted like cherry chapstick.