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Carefully, sprinkling flour in a pattern on the floor of Paul's bedroom, Jamie created a veve to attract the notice of loa and spirits. The veve was arranged in a pattern which was unique to Dambala, the sky serpent spirit, who had a fondness for white food and drink. He poured a libation of rum into a bowl. He then lit up incense, and tied a bundle of Paul's hair to a poteau-mitan, a pole God and spirits use to help them communicate with the living. A small altar elaborately decorated with pictures of Saint Michael, Saint Catherine of Alexandria, and Saint Anthony of Egypt, the special saints who talked to Paul, were lit up with candles. Snakes long and thick bodied crawled around the floor, the altar, and on Paul's bed.
Henri beat on a pair of tam-tam drums. His walking stick near by least a snake came too close to him. Bianca sat besides him.
"Now you both remember the chants I want you to say?" Jamie worried, "It is imperative Henri you must not stop playing the drums."
"Jamie," Henri said nervously, looking at a king snake crawling up on Jamie's arm, "I don't know about this."
The king snake blinked its beady eyes at Henri, flickering its forked tongue at him. Henri almost bolted out of the room.
"You believe in your Catholic faith, oui?" Jamie pleaded.
"Oui, I am as good as a Catholic as I can possibly be," Henri said seriously.
"As with me it is the same with you. I believe in a supreme being. I call Him by a different name. I call him Olorun. Our loa they are the same as your angels. I believe in an afterlife. And my rituals involve a sacrifice and the consumption of flesh and blood. My ti bon agne, my little guardian angel, who is part of my soul, is going to leave my body, and my body will be possessed by Dambala. Do not worry about the serpent god, he is wise and old. A fatherly spirit. Like one of your, I mean, our saints."
"I can believe in miracles. Why not?" Henri said, inching his knee away from the thin tongue of a snake which if it came mais one inch closer he swore he was going to lose control, scoop it up, and bite the evil thing. With a sigh, Henri realized if he wanted to help there was no escape from his predicament. Holding his breath, he allowed the snake to brush against his knee. The reptile slithered away. Henri let go of his breath.
"Who are we to say there are limitations to the supernatural?" Bianca said bravely, picking up a huge snake, and placing it onto her lap, "Courage Henri. Play the drums and I will shake the rattle."
"Can I say a Catholic prayer for Paul during the ceremony?" Henri worried.
"Oui, please do, I will be saying such prayers too," Jamie said, kissing his cheek.
Jamie danced the yan valou, a dance of supplication, crouching with his hands on his knees, he swayed, and twirled exotically around. His body danced faster and faster with the rhythm of Henri's and Bianca's chanting.
Amazed, Henri leaned back, he almost forgot to pound on the drums. Jamie's face was stretching out, becoming angular, his eyes were yellow like a snake's, his face looked scaly. Jamie's mouth fell open, he babbled and hissed gibberish, falling to the floor his body twisted all about till he got to the bowl of rum. His tongue flickered in and out between his lips as he tasted the liquor in the bowl. His body was now a host to the essence of Dambala.
Leaping to her feet, Bianca hurried to where a rooster was caged. Henri flinched as she sliced a ceremonial knife through the bird's throat. The decapitated body flew upwards, then fell, running about in as circle. The smell of blood sang with the perfume of incense. She caught up the bird by its feet, holding it upside down, taking a drink from its stump. Blood steamed down her chin, and the front of her dress. Draining the blood into a bowl, she tossed the now dead bird to the floor. She brought the bowl to Henri's lips for him to drink.
Then she laid the bowl in front of Jamie's possessed body. Jamie's tongue sought out the blood. Dambala's essence inside of Jamie's body, used Jamie's tongue to lap the bowl clean.
Jamie's ti bon ange floated above his possessed body. His small soul was swimming in a vast sea of waves which crashed against him. He could see Paul's soul half consumed by a python which had compassionate, brown, human eyes.
Quickly, Jamie's soul grabbed Paul's ghostly hands. Jamie tied to pull Paul's soul out of the snake. Paul's face was as green and bloated as a day old corpse's.
"Jamie," Paul's soul cried. Paul's soul flexed his elbows pulling Jamie's soul to him, and to the python.
"Dambabla wants us to go with him to the other side," Paul's soul pleaded.
Jamie gasped, a brillent flash of gold light engulfed him, Paul, and Dambabla. He could hear the voices of angels/ loas lulling him with songs of peace. Loas with shimmering African and colored voices sang along with the bell like tones of the voices of white angels. All the voices were one and the same he soon realized. Saint's/Spirits's voices consoled him. Their songs of peace called for action.
"Non, it isn't our time to go to the other side. Paul help me fight for you."
"I don't want to fight! I want to surrender. The spirits, God, they are kind. Jamie do not fight. Come be with me on the other side where we'll be safe and loved. I did not want Lestat to kill you. It would have made it impossible for my brother to love him if he had. Mais, Jamie I am afraid to live. I was terrified when I faced by brother Louis about us. An angel tried to kill me. I thought his hand was raised against me because of the sins I committed with you. Then I learned it was no angel, it was Armband, but still Jamie, he must have tried to kill me for more of a reason than pure jealousy. We have no place in the world of mortals. No one will accept our being together. Aside from Henri and Bianca we will be friendless. I do not want to live a life where our love is scorned, a dirty joke to everyone. I do not want to live in a world where there are slaves and masters. Die with me so we can be together in peace."
"Non, I refuse to die, I refuse to let you die. We will make a place in the world for us. The world does not stop at New Orleans's borders. I don't care what others say or do. You haven't really ever tried yet to live Paul. You don't know what our life together will be like. You just think you know. I will not die, nor will you."
Jamie felt arms encircling his feet, he looked behind his shoulder there helping him pull was Erzulie, the spirit of love, a classically beautiful, deeply black woman. Her wide, jet black eyes looked nothing like Paul's saint, the Virgin Mary's blue eyes. Yet the Virgin Mary's eyes and Erzulie's eyes were the same. Both had radiant eyes filled with strength and a mother's tenderness. Erzulie's woolly head was bare, no tignon scarf, the symbol of black women's so-called inferiority to white women, was on her proud head. She had no master, or a protector of a white man. She pulled along with Jamie.
"Now Papa Dambabla," Erzulie said, " I know the white boy told you he wanted to go with you. Mais, I don't think Paul's dead yet. Besides, this here colored boy, he isn't done with Paul yet. Let go of your grasp on the boy, Papa Dambala."
"Erzulie," "Baron Samedi cried. The guardian of graves appeared. The Baron looked like a handsome, black man in the beauty of his prime. "The white boy told us he wanted to go to the other side. Let go of your grasp on both of them boys. Paul belongs with us!"
"Baron Samedi, does the white boy occupy a grave?" Erzulie asked, still pulling with Jamie to free Paul. Paul still pulling Jamie towards Dambala.
"Boy keeps slipping in and out of the grave," the Baron said indignantly, "Truth to say, I don't think the white boy's heart is completely ready for the grave yet." he conceded.
"I say till he's good and proper in the grave to stay, and he stops with his slipping in and out, let Jamie take him home where he belongs!" Erzulie cried, giving one all mighty tug along with Jamie. They yanked Paul out of Dambala's mouth.
All the spirits; the Baron, Dambala, and Erzulie disappeared. The angels/loas stopped singing. So did the saints/spirits.
Jamie's soul was holding on to Paul's soul. The two of them chest to chest.
"Why won't you let me die?" Paul weeped "I swear I was ready."
"If you were truly ready you would have died. I haven't the courage to be without you, Paul. There is too much for us to do, alive back on the earth," Jamie pleaded.
"What can we do? Nothing we can do will make a difference," Paul cried.
"Give us a chance Paul, go back inside your body. I promise you will make a difference in the world, I promise."
African flowers, canna lilies white as light, russet orchards grew around them, framing them. Paul's soul, a weak, genderless thing, stared to glow. Jamie could hear the pounding of drums, he could see the explosive blue colors of Bianca's and Henri's auras. Over the music and the chants he could hear the steady beat of a heartbeat, "Paul," his soul whispered.
"I love you," Paul's soul whispered back.
With a whoosh of wind Jamie descended back into his body.
Brushing the snakes away from his path, he crawled to the bed, trembling he took up Paul's cold hand. Paul slowly folded his fingers around Jamie's hand.
Jamie bent his head down, kissing Paul's dry cracked lips, The kiss was divine to Jamie. | 