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The preparations continued for another hour, then the ritual began with two of the Haitians beginning on the batterie drums and others chanting and shaking the gourd rattles. Smoke grew thicker in the room from candles and incense, and the fire, as the chimney seemed partially blocked. The men dressed as Macoutes carried bottles of chilli rum around the room, spraying mouthfuls on people and the skulls. John and Ariel were sprayed several times.
The temperature increased in the room as the fire expelled more heat. One of the men tossed additional logs on the flames, and John noticed there were only three pieces left in the pile.
Ariel saw the back door open. The view of the sky and land beyond the door made her scalp prickle. The gray clouds seemed to boil overhead, and were so low they seemed to rest on the roof of the cabin. Sawgrass and cattails whipped and bent in the gusting winds, their color seeming to change hue as it was stroked by the hurricane, and bands of heavy rain were like dull steel as they swept over the area.
Denson came through the door, wet and dripping water on the floor. He held a dog leash and tugged on it, forcing the reluctant creature to follow him inside.
Pansy Brown stepped through the threshold. The dog collar tight around her neck, and her hands flex-cuffed in front. She was bent slightly forward, and Ariel saw the bruises and cuts on her face and arms.
“Pansy!” Ariel shouted.
Pansy looked at her, surprised. Denson jerked on the leash and Pansy staggered. She looked at Ariel and said, “It’s too late.”
Two men emerged from the bedroom, both stripped to loincloths and their bodies and faces painted with white figures and designs. Both wore small leather caps with long, curved horns on them. The horns were black, with small red designs at the base.
Rosalie followed them into the room, but not as Rosalie. Red flowing robes and a painted face revealed her as Marinette Bois Sèch, the same one Ariel witnessed in the warehouse in Miami.
The drums increased in their frenzy, and people swayed and gyrated, moaning and yelling as the ritual proceeded. Ariel recognized many of the fevered faces.
The bedroom door opened again and a tall man whose entire face was painted white to look like a skull stepped into the center of the floor.
The second man emerged from the room wearing a tall purple top hat and the purple suit he wore at the warehouse. The upper half of his face was painted as before: like a white skull. The only difference this time was the crude cast on his forearm. It was Ringo Bazin.
The two men walked to where the red witch lingered near Pansy. The crowd grew louder, more frenzied.
Denson drew a knife and cut Pansy out of her collar, then pushed her back on a wooden table. She didn’t fight, and she looked at Denson as if her heart was broken in two.
He stepped away, and the red witch took the knife from him.
Ariel squirmed, trying to break the cuffs and, almost crying, said, “She’s going to kill Pansy!”
At that moment, a sound like an approaching freight train made everyone stop. It grew louder, then the wind shrieked and the walls shook. Ariel felt the entire building move. The roof creaked and groaned, then boards snapped like pistol shots as part of the roof peeled away. The house lifted off the pier and beam posts and made a half turn before dropping back to earth at a canted angle.
People screamed and fell to the floor, scurrying on hands and knees like rats escaping a fire. The train sound faded as the tornado continued across the everglades ahead of its mother, the hurricane.
Marc said in a loud voice, “It is past. We will continue the ritual.”
But the people were having none of it. Rain pelted them through the open roof, and the water-slick floor made standing difficult.
John noticed that half the fire in the fireplace lay scattered on the wooden floor a good six feet from the hearth. The floor smoldered in a dozen places.
The participants and crowd there for the ritual looked to Marc, Ringo, and Rosalie for guidance. John noticed the two Macoute guards beside him had their total attention on Dessaline and the others.
John turned to Ariel touched her shoulder and whispered, “Follow me.” He stood and lifted his bound hands high over his head, then brought up his knee in a fierce kick as he powered his arms down on each side of his leg.
The flex-cuffs snapped and bounced across the floor.
The Macoutes saw the broken cuffs and turned toward John. He had an inch of the spork’s sharpened handle protruding beyond his grip with his thumb braced below the point. He stabbed as fast as he could at their necks and eyes, then dropped and stabbed again machine gun fast at the junctures of legs and groin, aiming for the arteries so close to the surface.
Both men staggered back, with one spouting a thin, red geyser from his neck. He collapsed as shock and blood loss slammed his vital organs.
John went to the floor with him, snatching the machete from the sheath as the other Macoute screamed and held the wounds in his groin, despite the flood of scarlet from his neck and one eye, then he saw John and reached for his machete.
Swinging the machete overhead like a claymore, John buried the blade deep in the bleeding man’s head, dropping him to the floor.
Ariel looked at Pansy, who saw her. Ariel gave her the hurry to us hand sign. Pansy rolled off the table and ran as soon as her feet touched the floor.
Marc and the others saw them and Ringo shouted to the crowd, “Catch them! Kill them!”
