Part 24 (2/2)

”How do you and Miles know each other?” I asked.

No one said anything, and I think they both blushed a little.

Miles leaned toward her. ”No one followed you?”

”Of course not. Now would you please tell me what's going on? Calls in the middle of the night, Miles? Make sure no one follows me? What is this?”

”Okay,” he said. He looked at Sarah and me sternly. ”Ground rules. No one say a word to her about what we're doing. We're just asking general, hypothetical, academic questions. The less she knows, the happier I am.

”Now,” he said, turning to Isabella, ”what can you tell us about voodoo?”

She slapped her forehead.

”Miles, what did I say when you asked me to marry you?”

I felt the room stop, as if all the fountains froze at once.

Miles turned bright red.

My mouth dropped open. So did Sarah's.

”Well?” Isabella demanded.

”You said, when I grow up,” Miles mumbled.

”Sweetie, does this seem grown up to you?”

He shook his head sheepishly.

I'd never seen Miles chastened before. He lowered his head, like a puppy waiting for its punishment.

Isabella sighed, running her hands into her hair. It was midnight black, a nest of unruly, graceful ringlets. Her green eyes sparkled. She closed them, and it was like a light went off in the room. She hummed to herself. Finally, she laughed and shook her head.

”Okay, okay, my sweetheart. What do you want to know?”

Miles let out a giant sigh of relief. He gave us a goofy grin.

”Everything. Izzy, tell us everything.”

25.

”First of all, forget every ridiculous thing you've ever heard about voodoo. Forget zombies. Forget voodoo dolls. Our story begins four thousand years B.H.--Before Hollywood--in the ancient civilizations of Egypt, a.s.syria, Ethiopia. Their accounts of the stars, the planets, the human soul--these gave birth over millennia to the religions of the African tribes: the Fons, the Igbos, the Kongos, and dozens more. The slave trade brought these ideas to the New World: to Brazil, Cuba, Haiti, Galveston, New Orleans. Religions mixed and transformed, as slaves from different tribes were integrated . . . if you'll excuse the term . . .” Isabella leaned in and gave us a smile that was as large and majestic as she was.

”Of course, it all starts with the word itself. In the language of the Fons, Vo means 'introspection.' Du means 'into the unknown.' Voodoo is therefore the investigation of mystery. Not just of G.o.ds and heavenly bodies, but of our own souls.” Isabella drew a line with her finger across the table. ”The voodoo temple is the oum'phor, held up by a central post--the solar support--and balanced by the moon, a small boat hung from the ceiling, which represents the voodoo G.o.ddess Erzulie. The top of the sun-post is the center of the sky. The bottom is the center of h.e.l.l. The post itself is the wood of justice, with a whip strung from it to symbolize penitence and redemption. The post is the physical center of the temple--it is, as they say, the cosmic axis of voodoo magic. The oum'phor has many chambers: a holy of holies, and symbolic 'tombs' for the uninitiated--death before rebirth. On the altar are pots-de-tete, small jars that contain a bit of the soul of each person in the room.

”Everything flows from the power of the G.o.ds--the loas. You legal types may be interested to know that loa comes from the French word lois, or 'law.'” That smile again, magnetic. She leaned in. ”Ask me where the G.o.ds live.”

”Where do the G.o.ds live?”

”In the astral city Ife, in a star that bakes at thirty thousand degrees Celsius. You've heard of the ceremonies. Drums. Incantations. An animal sacrifice, or sometimes a plant. The loa comes down to earth to mount a voodoo pract.i.tioner, who becomes the G.o.d's horse. This is an act of possession, so that the G.o.ds may perform an earthly task: heal the sick, accept a sacrifice. The mounting begins with a violent struggle but ends moments later with a whimper: in a flash it's over.”

Isabella went to a cabinet. She pulled a small object out of a box, unwrapped the felt cover, and placed it on the table.

”Perhaps the most powerful item in voodoo is the baka.” She traced a circle around it on the table with her finger. ”The baka is a talisman, but with a very special and dangerous composition. It is the fusion of two souls: the ka, the terrestrial soul that stays with the body after death, and the ba--the celestial soul that ascends to heaven. It is this combination that makes the baka's power so volatile: it is whatever the holder wants it to be. A healing charm. A weapon.”

Isabella paused. She put the charm away. She walked to a cupboard, took out four gla.s.ses, and filled them with an almond liquor.

”For a time, voodoo did quite well in the New World. But you have to imagine the slave tent on a quiet night. The glow of the flames. The hint of drums. Rumors of rituals, miraculous seizures. The slave owners came down brutally, even for them: hangings, beatings, even flayings, punishments for the slightest whiff of voodoo.

”And so the religion evolved again. It cloaked itself in secrecy. Catholic saints were used to signify voodoo G.o.ds. Rituals were cloaked in other rituals. Erzulie becomes the Virgin Mary. Legba the Lion becomes Christ. Is it so surprising? Religions are always borrowing, mixing. Some believe that Moses himself was inducted into voodoo, under the tutelage of a black scholar named Pethro. Some even say Moses married a black woman briefly, until his family intervened. Who knows? But that is how voodoo, cloaked in a new skin, survived four hundred years of slavery in the New World. And how it exists to this very day.”

Isabella sat back in her chair and spread her hands.

”That, my friends, is all I know about voodoo.”

Miles, Sarah, and I each seemed to have the same reaction. Interesting--but what did it have to do with us? What did it tell us about the V&D? How was it going to save us? I weighed my words.

”Isabella, tell us about voodoo and death.”

”Well,” she said, thinking it over. ”It's common to honor the souls of your ancestors. And to prepare one's soul for death. Penitence and redemption, like I said.”

”Okay, but what about . . . preventing death?”

”You mean healing the sick?”

”Not exactly . . . I mean, like, cheating death.”

Isabella wrinkled her brow.

”I don't understand.”

”I met a man who was planning to live beyond his own obituary. To live forever. You didn't say how someone would use voodoo to do that.”

She shook her head.

”They wouldn't.”

”How do you know?”

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