Michael didn’t understand or care why Adriana looked so upset, he just wanted his pain to end. “You’re the Devil.”
Exú chuckled. “Me? Não. I’m a messenger, a trickster—and a teacher, I like to think, although the living have rarely enjoyed my lessons. Romans, Mayans, Mesopotamians, they all lacked a sense of humor. Like your girl. So serious. And after you came all this way and played your part so magnificently.”
Michael wheezed and coughed. “Is this…a game to you?” He had more to ask, but he could hardly breathe.
Exú propped up Michael so he could face Adriana. “Tell us, girl. Who’s the Quimbandeira who cursed your lover?”
“I’m sorry, Michael. I never meant to bring this on you.”
“Tell us.”
She sighed in resignation. “My grandmother.”
Michael coughed out a bitter laugh. Adriana had lied about being married, and now her husband and grandmother were trying to kill him? To hell with her. To hell with all of them.
He glared at Exú, his coughing fit squelched by rage. “You did this. I never would have come to Rio if I hadn’t been chasing you.”
Exú clapped him on the shoulders as though he had won a great prize. “You are so smart. Come, my friend. We have much to do.”
He swept Michael into his arms and carried him down the aisle to the front of the hall where Saint George, the old black slave, the twin boys, the sea goddess, and the horse woman with the wind in her hair waited in a semi-circle. The fierce Amazon Indian followed behind and joined the others.
Exú looked down at Michael. “You see them, yes? In their true forms?”
Michael nodded.
Exú whirled him around then set him on his feet. “See? I knew it. You’re the one. This is why you are here. But first, I must get rid of your pain, or how will you be able to finish the job?”
Exú released Michael to stand on his own and signaled the drummers to play.
Michael swayed, reached for Saint George and the old black slave to help, then slumped to the floor. Drums pounded into his brain. The room spun. Spirits and saints blurred until Michael couldn’t tell one from the other. This was it. This was the end. Then water drenched his head.
Michael sputtered and coughed. Above him, Exú held two pitchers, one empty, the other full. “With this water, I cleanse your spirit and open your paths.”
Michael yelled as Exú drenched him again. “Cut that out.” He shook his hair and flung a spray of water around the dance floor.
People cheered from the benches and pews. Dancers in white dresses and women in blue skirts clapped their hands. Drummers stopped playing. An enormous woman in a hideous red satin dress waved empty pitchers in the air.
Michael crawled to his feet, yanked the tangled hospital gown out of the way, and exposed his ass. Laughter erupted throughout the room. He was about to yell and curse when he realized that the pain was gone, not even a twinge remained. The people laughed and cheered because they had witnessed a miracle. Michael jumped and spun and laughed along with everyone else. He didn’t know why or how, but he was going to live.
The woman in the red satin dress scooped him up in her flabby arms and squashed him against her bosom in a suffocating hug. He hugged her back with all his might. If this devil-woman had anything to do with how he felt, he was thankful to be her friend.