02 Awaken-The Soulkeepers (30 page)

“They don’t sound so bad,” I say, cautiously optimistic.

“He is the Loa of the Dead who escorts souls to the Crossroads, and she is the Death Loa who distracts unsuspecting humans with her laughter and playfulness while luring them to Hell.”

“Oh.”
Figures
. “What’s Loa mean?”

“Spirit. And Samedi means Saturday. Apparently, Baron prefers to raise the roof on weekends.” Dante smiles because he thinks he’s being current and funny. I roll my eyes.

Down below, the mob is swarming the stage; they seem hostile and starved for something they know is coming, in an almost zombielike frenzy. Not unlike Bailey. She’s been jumpy and nearly speechless, her eyes whipping around and her mouth hanging open. I ask if she has spotted High Alice but she shakes her head and we wait.

The four fire towers around the stage slowly distinguish and then everything goes dark. My knee vibrates with fear and anticipation. I just want to get the book and get out of this hellish nightmare. Dante lays a hand on my knee, and I force myself to sit still. Red bolts of lightning flash across the stage. Thunder booms and more lightning zaps up and over the dome ceiling. Jagged spears of electricity dance all around us, so close we can hear them hiss and snap. The music rises to a Middle Eastern flavor but immediately builds with thumping percussion and voices. It’s a familiar tune, and Bailey and I look at each other with shocked expressions of,
Holy shit! You’ve got to be freaking kidding me!
We grab the rail and stare down with our jaws slack.

The stage is lit up and a new band is singing “Catchafire” by TobyMac. It’s one of my favorite songs, and I got Bailey hooked on it. The lead singer is dressed in black with a white fedora, a red feather, and black boots with red socks. He sings and wags the mic, whipping around with his dance crew. They dig into the song, swaying and grooving.

I shout over the music, “But this is a religious song!” and Dante gives me his
I told you so
smile. Ah, now I get it; the damned like to mimic the Forgiven. As if that will do any good now.

The song continues with the lead singer wailing about catching a fire for God. Every time he sings the word
fire
, the four corners of the stage shoot up towers of yellow
flames. If the lead singer is Baron, he’s not what I expected, less flamboyant and more normal. And where is his wife, Brigitte?

I’ve forgotten that the lyrics give way to a female rapper, and there is my answer. Maman Brigitte struts onto the stage to a deafening roar. She is a stunning beauty, tall, dark, and the perfect blend of Cleopatra and Beyoncé—the famous blunt-cut hairstyle but with a crowning white veil as though she’s a perpetual bride, and a curvaceous body covered in a strapless emerald green bikini top and long, sheer emerald green panels of material meant to be a skirt. It rides dangerously low on her round hips, and the open skirt reveals her shapely legs as she sashays around. When the music takes off, she belts out a wicked rap, taking command of the stage. The crowd goes insane, reaching out to touch her. Maman Brigitte has long, thin arms decorated with lace tattoo sleeves that look like green netting. She waves her arms while ripping through her rap, sending the mob over the edge.

The lead singer pumps it up and the noise escalates. He draws the demons in with his smooth voice and luring lyrics; the words are a drug that gets them high, tempting them with the promise of a better life.

Then he slows the tempo, settling the throng while rocking to the groove as one massive beast. Heads sway, anticipation builds. And he starts all over again, only this time calling out to his boy from Kingston town. The fans know what’s coming, and in a flash of blinding light, the stage explodes and there he is, the king of the nightclub, Baron Samedi.

He is a towering black figure, over seven feet tall, wearing a top hat, tails, black-and-white-striped pants, and carrying a black cane. He appears formal but for an indecipherable tattoo branded across his bare chest, and his painted face. The upper half is painted stark white while the lower half has a gruesome black jawbone with white teeth. He wears black sunglasses and walks out stiff-legged and rapping into a mic. He is accompanied by a line of lesser demons who are dressed in black military garb and goose-stepping alongside him. His deep, angry voice growls out the song while the four towers of flame turn dark red and shoot higher into the cavern.

It’s a visual feast, with rings of lightning spinning like hypnotic pinwheels and red flaming towers that scorch the irises. Baron and his wife join the lead singer, and together they blast out the song, working the crowd into a greater frenzy. Arms waving and bodies crawling over one another, it seems they’re hoping to catch a fire for God. Theirs are cries of agony, and I don’t know if it’s hope they’re after or if they’re just tormented by what they’ve lost.

It’s a sickening display, and just when I think I can’t take any more, the song ends
with a detonation of sparks and raining fire. Bailey and I cover our heads as everything around us is gradually coated with glowing embers.

There’s no time to discuss the freak show because Kappas has returned. “Up,” he says. “We go now.”

Finally! I’m ready to end this nightmare!

He leads us through a maze of energetic demons that I hope are too busy with their demonic glorification to sense my lucky charm, which now feels like a noose around my neck.

Along the metal walkway and down the stairs, we dump into the chaos where Dante grabs my hand, I grab Bailey’s, and she grabs Vaughn’s. We snake our way toward the back, following a line of fans that are clustering around a black metal door wedged into the craggy wall. Everyone wants backstage and I feel like a hedonistic groupie.

Kappas worms his way up front, irritating the already hostile mob. He beats on the door, and a giant red eye appears behind a peephole. He says he wants High Alice, and the eye disappears. We wait and I clutch my shirt with the lucky charm beneath it. The lesser demons are too anxious to see Baron and Brigitte to notice anything out of the ordinary.

I’m irritable with anticipation. It’s been a long night already, and I just want the book, and then I want out. I fast-forward in my mind, imagining Rama working the spell and making another me. As bizarre as it sounds, I’m excited.
I always wanted a sister
.

Then something hits me that knocks my smile loose. Three distinct tugs on my heart.

I gasp in surprise, and Dante looks down at me. We’re all waiting patiently so there’s no cause for alarm. Bailey looks over and frowns. I lower my eyes. I must be mistaken. I couldn’t possibly feel Michael tugging on my heart, telling me he loves me. Not here. Not now. I haven’t felt it since we broke up. And besides, Michael could never get inside La Croix. So how …

There it is again, and I glance around. So does Dante. No one is paying attention to us, well, no one but the lesser females staring at Dante. They smile coyly and try to catch his eye. I don’t know if it’s because he’s so handsome or because they know he’s a Demon Knight.

Dante asks what’s wrong, and I stutter, “Uh, uh … I need to use the restroom,” and he cries, “Now?”

Kappas points out two doors at the end of the hall marked I
NCUBUS
and S
UCCUBUS
, and I grimace.
Eww. No
.

The black door jolts with a sound of metal scraping on stone. The crowd stirs and
calls out to Baron and Brigitte. A burly refrigerator-of-a-man steps into the doorway. He is charred black and extra crispy like he might crumble at any moment. He regards us with glowing red eyes that seem to strip me bare. “Enter,” he orders. “Do not speak until spoken to.” He steps aside and we file through the narrow opening. Fans wail in protest but he closes the door in their faces.

It’s a dressing room of sorts with red lanterns and a black thurible hanging from the center with clouds of incense drifting down. The fragrance is earthy and dry. Black roosters and strange symbols of hearts, crosses, and coffins decorate the walls. I tug on Dante’s hand, and he tells me they are
Veve
, religious symbols or beacons for the Loa.

Baron Samedi and Maman Brigitte are seated on the plush red sofa facing guests in a grouping of chairs. They’re laughing and joking, having a pleasant evening. The red-eyed demon leans over and speaks quietly to Baron and his eyes shift to us. He’s still wearing his stage clothes and makeup, and then I realize it’s not black and white face paint but real. It’s his normal face, and I feel my skin crawl. He’s even more terrifying up close.

Baron and Brigitte consider us, individually and at length, and I start to worry. I glance nervously at Bailey; she is pale and as stiff as a board.

Suddenly, Baron and Brigitte break into smiles and laughter and stand, welcoming us with open arms.

Dante leads us over and inclines his head respectfully. Baron and Brigitte reciprocate with a slight bow.

“Demon Knight Dante Dannoso!” Baron bellows jovially. “It’s truly an honor. Please come. Sit.” He wants the chairs vacated but Dante holds up his hand.

“My guests and I thoroughly enjoyed your performance, Baron Samedi, Maman Brigitte, but I am afraid we cannot stay. I am in need of High Alice.”

Brigitte’s chin goes up; she doesn’t look hostile but not exactly happy, either. More, suspicious. “High Alice does not leave La Croix,” she says in a deep, sultry voice.

Dante faces her with a pleasant smile. I can see that he’s making an effort to be polite but is in no mood for games or complications. He tilts his head as though amused by her comment. Brigitte’s eyes flutter. She grows nervous, having Dante’s full attention. Baron looks sharply at his wife as though she’s causing trouble.

Wait—this powerful couple that controls the Crossroads to and from Hell is afraid of Dante?

I look at him with fresh eyes, and reality dawns. Dante has some unspoken authority over them—even without the use of Persuasion. He’s more powerful, and this is both impressive and frightening. Once again, I wonder just who he is and how I’ll
outmaneuver him to get my way.

“Of course! High Alice would love to visit!” Baron says overdramatically. He’s trying to recover the mood and his wife’s mistake of countering Dante. “This way, if you please.” He gestures toward the red-eyed demon, who is standing by. The demon opens the door to another cavernous hallway.

Dante starts over but I pull him aside and whisper, “High Alice is an old friend of Bailey’s so, if you don’t mind, it’ll be just us girls? Some quick catching up and stuff. You know? And then we’ll get the book and leave.” I smile with honey, but Dante eyes me speculatively. The last thing I want is Dante in the room while we explain to High Alice the real reason we need the book.

Dante doesn’t like it and his eyes flick toward the hallway. Vaughn goes over to investigate. He nods that everything seems copacetic, and Dante reluctantly agrees.

“Five minutes, Sophia. That is all.” He gives me a stern look, and I grab Bailey and we go.

The demon leads us down the hall. It’s a short walk and then we stop. He leaves us at a door so Bailey knocks and then opens it. We step inside a small room crammed with hundreds of books. Everywhere are books, scrolls, maps. The shelves are lined with volumes, ancient and fat and brown. Some are crumbling and some are held together by crystal ball bookends.

Bailey sees High Alice perched on a ledge, reading a manuscript, and she squeals with delight. They throw themselves together, hugging and rocking side to side. I stand there gawking. I didn’t know what to expect from High Alice but she surprises me.

She is very pale, tall and wiry, with long, lean muscles beneath her black T-shirt and red skinny jeans. Her head is shaved about two inches above each ear, and a mop of black and white hair with red tips is spiked up in every direction. She has several bolts through her left eyebrow, a red nose ring, and a green tattoo in the shaved spaces above each ear. The tattoos are eyes that stare when she turns her head. They freak me the hell out.

Only one of her real eyes is lined with kohl, giving the appearance that the other one is dead and not worth the effort. When they finally pull apart and High Alice looks at me, she smiles knowingly and I sense that I’m no surprise.

“Hey, Sophia, how’s it going?”

“Hey, Alice. Nice to meet you.” I grow flustered because I don’t know where to start. I find myself staring at her mouth; she has a tattoo on her tongue like the symbols on the wall outside: a heart and a cross flanked by two coffins.

She laughs and says, “So, you want a do-over, huh?”

Bailey says, “It was my idea. Pretty sweet, huh? But listen, Alice, do you really wanna stay here? I mean, that Brigitte chick said you can’t leave. You want us to get you out?” Bailey starts moving about the place, touching things and wrinkling her nose.

“No, I’m cool,” Alice says, watching Bailey with an amused grin. “I’m here ’cause I wanna be.”

“Why?” Bailey asks, and High Alice looks at me when she answers.

“I got a purpose here.” Her statement is flat and knowing, and I’m to understand. We are the same, with a purpose to fulfill. Bailey asks what her purpose is, but High Alice won’t answer.

“We don’t have much time,” she says instead. “And I believe I know what you’re after. I’m cool with you using the book but here’s the deal. This edition of the
Book of the Dead
is sort of attached to me. It’s important to what I do, so I made a binding spell. It goes where I go. Of course, I can modify it because, well, I’m the one who made the spell. I’ll release it to you, Sophia, but once the spell you use is completed, the book will dissolve and return to me.”

I nod. “Does it matter which spell?” I ask, and she says no, so I consider something I hadn’t actually thought of before. “Is there … a spell to, say, bring up memories from a past life?”

Bailey has been poking around the room and looks up at my question. We stare and I know what she’s thinking—that I’m starting to believe Dante’s story that I have the soul of his lost lover.
Not quite
.