That was enough to shut me up. I’d have to bite my tongue and deal with it. Glaring down at the lavender gown and dark purple beads that adorned it I wondered if I would have to endure these ridiculous dresses every night. If so, did that mean I’d get to see Wyatt?
“Come on. Dinner awaits and you’ve got to be hungry.”
My stomach growled in reply and Leif grinned before opening the door and allowing me to step out. This time there were no smelly streets. Instead, the wide hallway was lit with gas lanterns and ornate carvings along the walls of masks. They were the sort of masks you see in pictures of costume balls. Fancy and well... exquisite were the only ways to describe them.
“These are all memories from Mardi Gras past. Each year father holds a costume ball on Fat Tuesday and every mask in attendance is forever remembered on these walls.”
If I didn’t despise everything about this place I might find that interesting.
Chapter Twenty
Dank
Pagan’s mother was grieving. I could hear her pain from outside the house. I’d been gone for two days looking for some way to penetrate Vilokan. But Pagan wouldn’t want her mother to mourn her death. She wouldn’t want to know her mother was having a complete emotional breakdown. Right now this was the only thing I could do for her and in return I could find out if there was anything her mother remembered about that night in the voodoo doctor’s shack.
Knocking on the door would be what she expected. She saw me as Pagan’s boyfriend. If I wanted her to believe I was not human I’d have to arrive a different way. I just hoped I didn’t scare her too badly.
I appeared on the bar stool directly in front of Pagan’s mother. She was sitting at the table with a cup of coffee. I could smell the whiskey in her drink. Sunken eyes that were highlighted with dark rings from no sleep lifted to meet my gaze. Surprisingly, she didn’t even flinch. Instead, she stared directly at me and studied me silently. There were no tear streaks running down her face. Those had all been cried out. Her face was one of complete loss and heartbreak. I’d seen this expression on other mothers as they faced the loss of their child. But this mother’s pain caused my chest to hurt. Maybe because I shared that pain. Although I knew Pagan wasn’t dead, she was gone. For now.
“Dank,” she finally spoke. Her voice was raw and raspy from little use.
“Yes,” I replied, waiting on her to say more.
She didn’t right away. Her head tilted and she searched my face for the answers to the questions I knew were piling up in her head. She thought she’d drunk herself to sleep and was dreaming. Possibly hallucinating. Several different explanations ran through her foggy thoughts.
“How did you--?” She trailed off not sure exactly what to say. How did I just appear out of nowhere? I could still see the uncertainty in her eyes.
“Because I’m not a human. I’m something more.” I let her soak in that information.
She took a weary sigh and pushed the cup of coffee and whiskey away from her, “Well, I’ve had too much of that I guess.”
“I’m not a hallucination. I’ve been here in your house most nights since the moment Pagan’s soul was marked for death. Watching her.”
“You knew she was going to die?” Her mother’s question was a mix of confusion and anger.
Shaking my head I held her gaze. “No. Pagan isn’t dead. I didn’t allow her to die in the car accident months ago that should have taken her life and she didn’t die when her car went off that bridge.”
Pushing herself back away from the table her mother stood up. “I need to go to bed. I’m not sleeping and now I’m losing my mind,” she muttered.
I stood up and moved into her path stopping her. “No. You aren’t. I’m real and I am telling you Pagan is alive. Her soul is still with her body. However, the voodoo spirit you sold it to when she was a child has a claim on it and right this very moment he has her. I need you to listen to me, believe me and help me.”
Slowly her mother’s face turned from one of disbelief to horror. Backing up until her legs met the leather chair behind her and she fell back into it, the understanding sank in. I wasn’t sure if she believed it or not but she knew my words held some truth.
“Voodoo spirit?” she whispered brokenly.
“Yes, the one you opened Pagan’s soul up to when you took her to the voodoo doctor in order to save her life.”
She shook her head and lifted her eyes back to mine, “I never promised her soul. I’d never do something like that. I just asked that they perform whatever special magic or miracle potion to heal her. The nurse, the nurse said that her grandmother could help us. I was desperate and willing to try any other avenue. Traditional medicine wasn’t working. I figured the herbs and natural remedies the old woman had might have some chance of doing something the doctors couldn’t. I never... never... promised her soul.”
Humans were so naïve to the supernatural powers around them. So many believed things all had an easy explanation. The concepts of magic and powers were so far-fetched that they assumed it was a natural cure. That a medical explanation would cover it all. “Voodoo isn’t herbs and natural remedies. It’s a religion. One that is made powerful by evil spirits when humans believe in them. If you don’t believe then it can’t harm you. But if you ever entrust it to answer your request you are in debt to the spirit that responds. You wanted to save your daughter’s life. There is only one voodoo spirit that can do that. A powerful one. The spirit lord of the dead can grant life. He’s fond of granting the lives of children. But not because he is malevolent. Because then he owns their soul. You asked the voodoo doctor to do whatever she could. She herself could do nothing. She’s just a vessel used by the voodoo spirits. However, Ghede, the spirit lord of the dead, could do something. And he did. He gave Pagan life when it was her fate to pass on. Her soul was to have a short life this time. Her next life would have been longer. But this life was to end. You allowed evil to change that because you weren’t willing to let her go. Now, Ghede has come to claim what is rightfully his.”
She didn’t speak right away. I watched as my words sunk in and she digested everything I’d told her. It wasn’t easy for humans to understand. At least not the spiritual ones. But I hoped that because she had experienced the power of voodoo all those years ago she’d at least open her mind.
“You’re telling me Pagan is with... she’s in--”
“Vilokan, the afterlife or spiritual realm where the spirits of voodoo dwell. She’s there in human form. They can’t take her soul from her body without Death and I can assure you Death will not take her soul.” Explaining to her that I was Death would be pushing things a little too far. She’d taken in all her mind could handle.