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Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Two
“What have you done?”
Mezareau’s thunderous voice made both Murphy and me jump, then glance up from the pile of flesh and bones at our feet.
The bokor didn’t appear happy. Several villagers who hadn’t been in the village before now cowered at the edge of the trees as if they planned to run should I produce more powder. Too bad I was all out.
Mezareau stalked toward us. When Murphy stepped in front of me Mezareau backhanded him so hard he was lifted off his feet and flung across the yard.
My eyes widened. That kind of strength wasn’t quite human.
Mezareau grabbed me by the throat. Without thinking, I ground my palm against his cheek, leaving the remnants of the powder stuck to his skin. The only reaction was a tightening of his fingers until I saw stars.
I grabbed my knife, but he shook me like a dog with a rope, and the weapon flew from my hand. I probably didn’t need it. The way he was behaving, silver wasn’t going to kill him, either. And wasn’t that a cheery thought?
One more brain-j arring shake, and he dropped me to the ground. “What did you do?” he repeated.
I managed to stay on my feet, barely. A quick glance at Murphy revealed he was unconscious, but I swore I saw him breathing.
“Zombie-revealing powder,” I answered, voice hoarse and wispy.
“I tested your powder.” He sniffed. “Harmless.”
“Tell it to your friends.”
His eyes narrowed. “What is the formula?”
“Little of this, a lot of that.”
“Any salt?”
“No.”
“Then it cannot work.”
That’s what I’d thought. Until today.
Of course, until today, I don’t think I’d tried it on an actual zombie.
Mezareau stared at me with an expression of dawning understanding. “It is not the ingredients that provide the power, but the one who combined them. You are far stronger than I realized.”
I rubbed my throat reflectively. “That makes two of us.”
Mezareau threw out his arms to indicate the village, the trees, the land. “This place is special. That is why I chose it. The longer you are here, the more potent you will become.”
“Sounds like bullshit to me,” Murphy said.
He’d managed to sit up. One eye was already swollen shut. He looked more like a pirate than ever.
Mezareau turned his gaze—hazel in the early-morning light—toward Murphy. The expression reminded me of wild cats I’d seen on Animal Planet—right after they discovered delectable prey.
“You would be the best judge of bullshit, would you not, monsieur?”
“Got that right,” Murphy muttered.
The two of them stared at each other like two beasts over a single bone. If they fought, I knew who’d win—and who’d die.
“What’s the problem with salt and zombies?” I blurted.
The staring continued for several more ticks of the clock before Mezareau glanced away. “They are mutually exclusive,” he said. “A zombie cannot exist if touched by salt; salt cannot exist within a zombie.”
“What do you mean, within?”
“It is amazing how much salt is contained in the human body. However, to be raised from the dead, there can be none within. Therefore, the body must be purified—either by years in the grave or through fasting before death.” He glanced at Murphy. “The priestess discovered you before we could complete your purification, so there could be no transformation under this full moon.”
“You were going to make Murphy a zombie?” I asked.
“Of course.”
“Of course,” Murphy mocked. “Why the hell not?”
I guess he was feeling better.
“You have qualities I admire,” Mezareau said. “Strength, agility, devotion to a goal, even if it is money.
Besides, once you were dead, you’d stop trying to steal my diamond.”
“Maybe.” Murphy’s lips tightened. “But I wouldn’t count on it.”
“When you’re a zombie, you’ll do anything I ask.”
I frowned. “What are you talking about?”
“Zombies are slaves, Priestess. Even centuries cannot change that.”
“No,” I whispered. “They’re human again. As if they’d never been dead at all.”
He smiled indulgently. “Yes and no. My zombies appear human. However, they do not die like normal humans.”
“All it takes is a little salt,” Murphy sneered.
Mezareau and I ignored him.
Not dying was a good thing, wasn’t it? I didn’t want Sarah to ever die again. All I had to do was keep her out of the ocean. That shouldn’t be hard. We’d just move to Topeka.
Despite my rationalization, these revelations were making me uneasy.
“You said the people of the village could leave whenever they wanted to.”
Murphy gave a snort of derision. Mezareau cast him a narrow glare before returning his attention to me.
“I may have stretched the truth a bit.”
“They can’t leave?”
“Once they are raised, they do not want to.”
“Do zombies have to be slaves?” I pressed. “Couldn’t you release them from bondage?”
“I do not know.” Mezareau’s forehead creased. “I’ve never tried.”
“How did you plan on zombifying me?” Murphy asked.
“Death becomes life.” Mezareau spread his hands. “The ritual.”
“But I wasn’t dead.”
“That would have been easily remedied once you were purified.”
“You’re killing people in order to raise them?” My voice rose higher and higher with every word.
“How else would I be able to populate my army with the worthy?”
“A zombie army.” Murphy gained his feet and only wobbled a little as he returned to my side. “Why?”
“My ancestors ruled here once. I plan to rule again.”
“When was this?” I asked.
“The island was called Saint-Domingue. The French were in control. My great-great-many-times- great-grandfather was the governor.”
“And he had a mistress.”
Mezareau dipped his chin. “The mulatto elite were society’s darlings. He would have married her if he could.”
“Mmm,” I said. What I thought was, Yeah right.
“But he was killed in one of the revolts and ever since there has been chaos. I will turn that around when I reclaim my rightful place on the throne.”
Murphy and I exchanged glances. Throne?
“So you’re going to… ?” I let my voice trail off encouragingly.
“Take over the country. It won’t be hard.”
“Not with an army of people who can’t be killed,” Murphy said.
We looked down at the pile of flesh and bones. Except by me.
Murphy inched in front of me. “I won’t let you kill her.”
“Why would I?” Mezareau asked. “She’s the most powerful voodoo priestess I’ve ever known.”
“I think you’re confusing me with someone else,” I protested. “I’m new at this.”
Except I was kind of good at it, and I seemed to be getting better with each passing day. I had to wonder if Mezareau’s claims that his village was “special” were true. Maybe that was how he’d become freakishly strong in both a physical and a metaphysical sense.
The bokor contemplated me with continued amusement. “I’ve never known anyone who didn’t run screaming when I sent the dead, let alone dispersed them. How did you do it?”
“I called on Aida-Wedo.”
His brows lifted. “The loas always come when you call?”
“Shouldn’t they?”
“Oh, they should, but that doesn’t always mean that they will.”
I hadn’t realized I’d been doing something extraordinary; I’d only been doing what I’d been taught.
“You are the one I’ve been waiting for,” Mezareau continued. “I asked the Lord of Death to send me a powerful partner. I can’t create the army all alone.” He frowned. “Especially now that you’ve disintegrated an entire month’s work.”
He’d called on the Lord of Death—Baron Samedi, gatekeeper to the otherworld and overseer of zombies. I guess when Mezareau sent the dead I should have known he had an in with Samedi. But there was something about the revelation that bothered me. I just couldn’t put my finger on what it was.
“She’ll only kill more of your zombies,” Murphy pointed out.
“Keep it up,” I said. “You’ll convince him yet that he’s better off killing me.”
Mezareau laughed. “She won’t be able to make any more of her powder here.”
“How do you know?” I demanded, then had to refrain from smacking myself in the head. I wasn’t any better than Murphy.
“Because if you try anything of the kind, I’ll kill your lover, then embalm him with salt so he can never rise again.”
“He’s not my lover,” I felt compelled to explain. There hadn’t been any love involved.
Murphy shot me a glance that seemed kind of hurt. What was up with that?
For that matter, what was up with my racing heart and my extreme unease at the idea of loving another man? I wasn’t going to, and that was that.
“I’m still certain you wouldn’t want his blood on your hands. And it will be on your hands, Priestess.
Literally.”
I flinched, which caused Mezareau to smirk. “Excellent. You will be my guests until I have what I want.”
“And then?” Murphy asked.
Mezareau’s smirk widened. “Then we shall see.”
Murphy and I were dumped back into his hut.
“Amuse yourselves, children,” Mezareau said, and tossed me my knife.
I stared at the weapon, which had once struck fear into monsters of the night. Mezareau seemed to have no fear of anything, which scared the crap out of me.
I tossed the knife into my backpack. “How come it’s all right for us to stay together now? Sudden change of heart on the premarital sex issue?”
“I could care less who you fuck, Priestess. I only wanted you separated so I could kill him.”
Ask a stupid question…
“Why was I told Murphy didn’t exist? Did you actually think I’d believe that?”
“My villagers live only in this new world we’ve created. Once someone leaves their world, they no longer believe the person exists.”
I frowned. That would explain why Helen didn’t remember crazy nose-eating zombie man, even though he had to have been in the village at one time or another. This place was downright bizarre, and so were all the people in it. Like that was news.
Mezareau signaled and two guards appeared. “Keep them inside,” he ordered, “or I will feed you a bowl full of salt.”
The two men took up positions on either side of the door.
“We’ve got to get out of here,” I said.
“No shit.”
I glanced at Murphy. “What’s wrong with you?”
“Oh, I don’t know—maybe I just saw people become corpses right in front of my eyes. Maybe I had a little Frenchman toss me across the yard, then tell me he was going to kill me and make me into a zombie so I could j oin his bloody zombie army.”
Murphy hadn’t resorted to an accent for quite a while. I guess his whole world had changed; I should really cut him some slack.
“At least you don’t think I’m crazy anymore.”
“That depends. Are you still planning to raise your daughter from the dead?”
“Why wouldn’t I be? You saw them. We had no idea that most of this village was the risen dead. They were alive again.”
“If you don’t feed them salt or throw voodoo powder in their faces!”
Murphy’s voice was different; so were his eyes, the expression on his face. He seemed to have aged.
I suppose being starved, threatened, and involuntarily giving blood for a zombie-raising ceremony could do that to a guy, especially a guy like him who’d spent his life on the good-time trail. This trip, this place, my problems, had to make him want to run for the hills, or at least the waterfall.
“I’m sorry you got caught up in this, Murphy.”
“I knew what I was doing.”
“I don’t think you did.”
His sigh was impatient. “You got what you came for; now it’s time to get out of here.”
He stalked to the far side of the hut, where he shoved against the corner posts. I followed, hunkering down next to him when he began testing the base of the wall for a weakness.
“What’s the rush?” I asked.
“Besides the crazy guy who’s threatening to kill me?”
He straightened and so did I. After a quick glance at the door, where the guards continued to stare in the other direction, he turned, shielding me with his body. “Because I think he probably will kill me if he finds this.”
Murphy reached into his cargo pants and withdrew Mezareau’s diamond.
***
