Abruptly the woman stopped moving. The mambo lay the bundle on the ground, bowing, her hands held in prayer. “Amen to the most holy, amen to the guardians, amen to the army of good spirits.” With one hand she picked up the still-burning incense bundle then hoisted a long staff with the other and marched forward between the gates—and straight through Luc.
He backed away.
“Excuse me,” Grace called. He did not need hyper-sensitive hearing to garner the confusion in her voice.
The mambo marched on.
Grace kneed Maymie, giving her the office to follow. “Slow and steady girl. She’s an old lady and can’t hurt you.”
Luc raced ahead. He confronted the mambo in the shadow cast by one of the huge live oaks lining the drive. In the absence of moonlight, a less powerful priestess, or nearly anyone else would, like Grace, have been unable to see him. Mambo Ayezan’s connection with the spirit world was nearly the strongest he’d encountered.
“Why are you here, Mambo Ayezan?” he challenged, aiming his voice for her ears alone.
Grace reined to a halt and leaned in, as if she was peering hard into the shadows.
She must be mystified at this woman’s behavior.
“Excuse me,” Grace said, a tense edge to the words. “Who are you, and what are you doing here?”
The mambo remained focused on him, right where Luc wanted her.
“Thank you for not interrupting my call to Papa Legba.” The older woman looked him straight in the eye and waved the purifying incense bundle slowly before him.
His worry for Grace’s safety began to fade. Luc closed his mouth and refused to inhale. He would not permit the mambo to influence him. “We have known each other a long-timemon zanmi maudit, Lucien.” She smiled but ceased waving the incense.
Grace edged closer. Her brow furrowed as she studied her surroundings.
Spectral skills were not required to know she’d heard Mambo Ayezan call his name.
She has to be wondering how many men named Lucien lurk near Sweet Dreams, and where I am if this strange woman is talking to me.
“Aye, ‘our acquaintance’ is long,” he said quietly, “But you are descended from the woman who cursed me. You betray your ancestress when you call me friend.”
“Mawu Anaisa did not see your spirit. Because you never showed her your truth, she did not really know you.”
“She knew me well enough to curse me.” Tired of floating, Luc planted his feet on the ground, facing the mambo.
“A blood curse like Mawu’s is always strong. Add the hate and anger she had at what she saw as your betrayal, and even a novice, could create a nearly unbreakable curse. She was no novice, and did a great evil with her knowledge and power. Nonetheless, I have always seen you clearly,zanmi. From the day I was born.”
“Yet, you call me friend. What kind of Mambo calls the cursedzanmi?”
She seemed to grow in size becoming straight, tall, much younger.
Luc stared as she changed. Had he never been cursed, he might’ve cowered. Instead, he laughed. His guffaws boomed and echoed among the trees.
Maymie’s ears flattened, her eyes bulged, and she bared her teeth before trumpeting her fear. The mare stomped her hooves. With a toss of her large head, she seized the bit and bolted, with the pack horse keeping pace in frightened flight.
“Whoa. Maymie, stop. Whoa, whoa.” Grace’s orders dwindled away as she dashed after the horses.
Mambo Ayezan ignored them, which Luc took as a sign that Grace would be fine.
“I call the cursed ‘friend’ because the Loa—Papa Legba, Ayezan, and all their kind—tell me the time is near.”
Yes, he was cursed. Luc was intimately familiar with the worst kind of curses. The gigantic youthful beauty before him was an illusion. He, too, could create illusions. All who lived close to the world of spirits had the power to some extent.
“What time is near?” he asked, still chuckling. She could not possibly mean the time for his curse to end.
Howls rose from the direction of the house, followed by the sound of running footsteps.
