The Mirk and Midnight Hour (40 page)

All the while I remained fiercely aware of the situation we were in. At any moment the VanZeldts might enter. I licked my lips and now resorted to tales of my own childhood and the years after my mother’s death. I voiced memories I had never related to another soul, and as I did so, it seemed I was listening to someone else, gaining a new understanding, as if this eerie, deadly place made me see myself, my family, and events more clearly.

I had no idea what time it was, but my growling stomach told me it must be afternoon. “We can’t just stay here talking,” I said at last to the un-Thomas. “We have to take some action.”

Thomas’s sightless, bewitched gaze offered no response.

The door began to open. I scrabbled against the wall, making myself as small as possible.

Amenze entered, her head ducked under the low doorway, carrying a dark flask.

She showed no sign of surprise or any other emotion when she took in my presence, but neither was she in a trance, as she had been the last time I saw her. “Miss Violet Dancey. I thought you would
come. You removed the guarding signs my grandmother drew outside, but as you’ve discovered, we don’t actually need them to keep your soldier here.”

“I’ve come to take him away.”

“That is impossible. He is necessary. We have cared for him many weeks and we cannot let him go now, when it is so close to time for the ceremony. I am sorry.”

“You’re going to kill him.” I nearly choked on the words.

She opened her lips to speak, then closed them. Her face looked taut, her eyes strained. “You do not understand our ways. It is a wonderful thing we would do. We would bring the god Raphtah down to live among us, as a man, our king. He is to be my husband and I will be a queen. But to call Raphtah it takes power, greater power than we have. So the power must be gleaned from life energy—which pours out with the life’s blood of a healthy man. We tried here once before with another soldier, but he was too weak and wounded; it did not work. That is why we have labored so hard to restore this man.”

“Someone has beaten him.”

“That was Uwa. It happened before Father VanZeldt could stop him. My brother hates the soldier because—because of what happened between you and him.”

“Your brother tried to trick me into lying with him.”

“That was also necessary. You were chosen to be Uwa’s mate. It is an honor to be the consort of one of the Children of Raphtah. You will learn it is an honor.”

“I’m promised to Thomas—to Lieutenant Lynd, the soldier. I never, never will go with Uwa.”

“You will have no choice. If you will not go freely, we will have to give you this.” She shook the flask. “It is a brew we call
dakar
. It makes one docile and pliable.”

“Why would I drink it?”

She looked at me with patience and pity. “Even I have been forced to drink the
dakar
at times.” She sank down on the floor beside me. “You love the soldier, I know. You must understand—it is a hard thing, but it will bring such good. One man’s death. Not like your thousands perishing in your war—more like your god, your Jesus, who died for the good of many. The ceremony would be difficult to watch if we were in our natural minds, but during the drinking and the dancing, the spirits of others from Raphtah’s star come to possess us. They are not aware of human agony and human suffering. Even the sacrifice himself will feel no pain because he will have drunk the
dakar
, which removes all hurt and sorrow.”

I could have added that it removed all agency, joy, and character as well, but arguing would not persuade her to help. Neither would threatening her with burning the carvings. I searched my mind for something to say, something that might touch her heart. It was touchable—I could tell from her expression. From somewhere, words shot into my mind, and then were on my tongue. “You had a cousin who died in your old country—Ekon. What happened to him?”

Her face fell as she turned away. “I do not wish to think of it.”

“Please tell me. It’s important. Was he your sweetheart?” Again I didn’t know how I guessed this, but as soon as I did, I knew it to be true.

She blinked rapidly. “Yes. We—he—he offered himself as the
sacrifice. He was so good, you see, and knew it was right that I should be Raphtah’s wife, even though he himself loved me. But the sacrifice did not work. My grandmother Cyrah said it had not been the right time. I—I miss Ekon still.”

“Maybe Cyrah can’t ever know the right time. You’ve offered two sacrifices and neither worked. Maybe it will never work and Thomas’s death will be a waste as well. Not a regretted, necessary loss, but murder.”

She seemed not to hear. “The last thing I remember is Ekon telling me not to weep, that what he was doing would make everything better. Then I drank and danced and knew nothing until the next day, when I saw his beloved body lying there, his blood all soaked into the dust. For nothing.”

A tear slid down her nose. I took her hand.

“Amenze,” I said gently, “we are friends. Please. Please don’t let the same thing happen to Thomas and me.”

She made a strangled sound in her throat and closed her eyes, her shoulders hunched and head bowed. I waited. There were no more words to say.

When she opened her eyes, a new spark of determination shone in them. She gripped my upper arm with sharp, tight fingers. “It shall not. I cannot help you take him away now, but I can tell you what you must do.” She set down the flask beside the snake case. “I will not give this dose to the soldier, so the effects should fade in a few hours. Father VanZeldt believes the sign will come tonight, and that is when the ceremony will take place.

“Listen closely. Tonight, when Cyrah raises the knife, she will ask, ‘
Mesu yamga sil?
’ In your tongue, this means ‘Who claims this
man?’ Hide away in the bushes beside the clearing. When you hear those words, leap out and say, ‘I claim him.’ You must reach the soldier without anyone stopping you. I can do nothing to help. The spirit will be inside me, and that which is Amenze will not be present. Uwa and Ahigbe and my grandmother will be possessed also, so no one but Father VanZeldt will remember you exist and no one will be prepared for the interruption. Put your arms around the soldier and hold on tight. No matter what happens, do not drop your hold. That is the only way to break the binding. We will be forced to release you both then. It is a law. And no one in the family will ever be allowed to touch either of you again. Go now and watch for the sign. Then you will know to come to the clearing.”

“I can’t leave Thomas.”

“You must. If they know you have been here, they will tie you up and lock you away so you cannot interfere in the ceremony. I could not stop them. I will not try to stop them.” She paused for effect. “And they will give you to Uwa first.” She gave me a shove toward the door. “Go!”

Tears streamed freely down her cheeks now. She covered her face with her hands and sobbed, “I have betrayed my family! Oh, I have betrayed them all.”

I paused and tried to hug her.

“Go!” she whispered, soft but intense.

I took one last, fearful look at Thomas, peeked into the yard to be sure no one was there, then scuttled around the shed and into the forest.

The fog had disappeared and I could feel a waiting, an oppressive expectation in the muggy air, in the stillness of the close boughs,
even rising from the hard, quiet earth. The day would not end without dire dealings. The ceremony would indeed be tonight.

At the clearing of the silk cotton tree, the two straw thrones, Ahigbe’s drums, and an enormous pile of logs and brush already waited. I found a little, flower-soft dell a distance away, but still within earshot, and made myself a nest in the center. The wild blossoms were white, with veined petals like wings, and gave off a sweet fragrance as I settled myself upon them.

As the sun moved across the sky, my panic mounted. I rehearsed over and over the words Amenze had told me to recognize—the woman would say, “
Mesu yamga sil?
” My heart was pounding against my chest and I broke out in a sweat. I needed to
do
something. Perhaps I should race back to the farm and begin to torture the carvings. But one of them was Amenze. I could not hurt Amenze.

A few slanting sunbeams pierced the interlaced boughs above. Five bees, perhaps the same that had led me to Thomas, flew in from the trees. They hovered and revolved in the light, turning slowly around and around as if they were soaking themselves in the gold. They hummed low and soft. There in the pool of white blossoms, a peace grew in me. “Fear not: for they that be with us are more than they that be with them.” The VanZeldts might have dreadful intentions, but opposing them was the strength and virtue of so many others, including all those I could no longer see. My mother. Rush. Amazingly, I slept.

Sharp white light awoke me. For a moment I didn’t know where I was. It was a dream. It had to be, because above me, beyond the treetops, against a background of black night, stars fell like rain, streaks of dazzling white. Everywhere was nearly bright as day.
The brilliant light seemed to explode in pain in my head. I began to shake. This was the sign from the heavens the VanZeldts had awaited.

It lasted only a few moments, but it was as if the world came to life during that time. A breeze stirred and rustled the leaves. An owl swooped ghostly not far from where I huddled.

A fingernail sliver of moon now shone. I listened breathlessly until I heard the faint crackles, crunches, and swishes of people moving toward the clearing. Softly I slipped to a new hiding place behind a wide trunk opposite the silk cotton tree.

Uwa and Ahigbe led the way, each carrying a torch, which they threw on the pile of scrub and branches. The wood must have been soaked in some accelerant because it burst instantly into brilliant flames, soaring, sparkling, twisting white and gold and red-orange. Dr. VanZeldt and the old woman—Cyrah—seated themselves. Amenze led Thomas by the arm. He shuffled along, head bowed. She pushed down on his shoulders to make him kneel in front of the thrones, facing the bonfire.

The doctor wore his white suit, but all the others were naked save for loincloths. Even Thomas. With his swollen face, unkempt hair, and beard, he appeared brutish among the exquisite, exotic VanZeldts. The necklace of leaves he wore covered his torn and bloody chest. At first I thought the undulating, intricate lines of silver on their skin was the moonlight, but I soon realized their bodies were painted, the mottled glimmers running over them like rings of silver water—or perhaps scales.

Uwa threw a handful of leaves in the center of the fire. Almost immediately a sharp, acrid odor burned my eyes and nostrils and
the air felt harsh in my throat. I swallowed with difficulty. My head swam.

Ahigbe drew the coils of a long yellow-and-black snake from a basket and held it looped before the old woman. She took a slender knife and made a slit—probably through some artery—to drain the serpent’s blood into a carved wooden bowl. They passed it between them. Each took a sip. Uwa smacked his lips as though it were a most delicious drink.

Just then Thomas’s blind, drugged gaze turned my way, and a greater fear than I had yet known washed over me. My feet seemed suddenly not to meet the ground, and the interwoven trees, the fire, the people all blurred and slid together. I caught at the tree trunk and clung to it.

The drumming began and the dancers burst again into vision. They had donned tall wooden masks that made them tower like giants, the faces of nightmares, with grimacing mouths and fierce, slanting eyes. They leaped, wheeled and stamped, crouched and sprang. Whereas the other dance I had witnessed seemed joyous, this was a scene from Dante’s
Inferno
. The roaring conflagration before them and the flickering black shadows behind them wavered and reached.

The old woman joined them now, her movements slow, serpentine, lewd. She sang a low, hissing chant and wielded a wicked blade, which she flashed before Thomas. He did not flinch or blink.

Dr. VanZeldt stood. His body quivered with excitement. A trickle of crimson blood oozed from his nostrils.

The drums beat faster and faster and the dancing built in
intensity until the dancers tore off their masks. I gasped, for they were altered.

Golden eyes with black slits for pupils, flat gashes for noses, lipless, their skin glittering scales of ruby and gold
.

I sank, tremulous, to the ground, huddled in a heap, no longer hidden by the tree. Luckily they were too involved in what they were doing to notice.

As I hunched there, somehow I became aware of a new movement, very slight but very important, coming from Thomas. He blinked when Uwa whirled close to him. His head drew back slightly. He was coming out of his trance.

The creature who was Cyrah stood behind him now. With one hand she held up his head by the hair; with the other she raised the knife. “
Mesu yamga sil?
”

The words.

I leaped up and dashed around the fire, moving as fast as I could, but still with nightmare slowness. I threw myself on Thomas, knocking him backward, flat to the ground. “I do!” I cried. “I claim him!”

His body beneath me changed, hardened, and suddenly was burning hot. My clothing smoked. He had turned into red-hot iron. I forced myself not to scream or jump away. I concentrated on sensing my amulet, and this time it felt cool against my chest. The searing pain in my hands was less acute. His body sank beneath me. I now lay in a pool of molten lead, but only momentarily. It swelled and solidified, and inches from my face were the sharp and snarling fangs of a lion. It blurred and changed even as it formed,
and next came the rasping, dry, scaly feel of a great, golden snake. The muscles rippled and undulated beneath me, and its jaws opened wide. I did scream then, and closed my eyes tightly. But I held on, held on, held on.

A boom like crashing thunder sounded and the earth shook. From someone—I think it was the doctor—came a heartbroken cry.

The form shifted beneath me. I opened my eyes to see that I was holding my own Thomas once again. His breath cooled my cheeks. He stirred and blinked, confused.