One Blood (43 page)

Jhonnette broke out of unconsciousness and covered her ears. Music was everywhere. Completely disoriented, she opened her eyes. Moses leaned over her with concern.

“
What’s going on?” she whispered.

“
I don’t know. This music just started.”

She tried to sit up. A blinding cramp tore through her abdomen.

Moses pushed down on her shoulder. “Stop trying to move.”

Jhonnette remembered the taser and groaned. Moses shifted his wheelchair slightly and she heard an odd swishing sound, like water in a washing machine. She rolled onto her side and looked down at the floor.

Moses was sitting in water up to his calves.

How long have I been out?

The music blared. The water rose.

Fresh panic jumped into her eyes.

How can Moses be so calm about this?

Moses touched her face as she cried uncontrollably. She wasn’t meant to die like this. This wasn’t part of the plan. She was supposed to be on her way back to New Orleans with her father in tow, a much richer and happier person.

Where are you, Father? I need you!

The music stopped. A heartbeat later, the cell door sprung open. A bevy of dirty brown water rushed into the cell. Soon, Moses was covered up to his waist.

“
Can you get up?” he asked, still calm.

Jhonnette didn’t think so, but the rising water gave her renewed motivation. She stood on top of the cot and looked to Moses for further instruction.

“
You’re going to have to float me.” He extended his arms out to his sides and put his head back like he was being baptized.

“
What?” Jhonnette’s face contorted in confusion.

“
I can’t walk. I tried when the water first started trickling into the cell. You’re going to have to float me out.”

“
I…I can’t,” Jhonnette moaned. There were a million shards of glass glimmering in the water, waiting for her to step in so they could slice her to shreds.

Calm down. You’re amplifying.

The tasering, coupled with her fear of drowning, had disrupted her ability. She commanded herself to breathe.

* * * * *

Throughout the massive complex, inmates screamed, cried, and moaned in their flooding cells as the nightmarish liquid poured in, bringing their deepest regrets and biggest fears to the surface. The killers, rapists, and molesters saw their victims floating in the water; the thieves saw serpents. And the innocent saw nothing, for no one was innocent in Angola.

Panama X saw it all and it crushed and confounded him. The prisoners were supposed to pour out into the open, but no one moved. It wasn’t supposed to happen this way. This was
his
legion. If he didn’t do something, his liberation army was going to drown in their cells.

Summoning every ounce of concentration, Panama X focused on re-manifesting his flesh. His efforts required a target. He hurled his essence into the prison camp and pinpointed a drowning inmate. The impact of their collision jettisoned water from the dying man’s lungs.

Many
loa
had ridden Panama X over the years. He was accustomed to the lightning bolt of amnesia that struck upon the
loa’s
arrival. Now he knew how the other side felt.

At first, he had the immediate sensation of weight. It seemed like a billion small anchors tethered every molecule of his being to the earth. Raw electricity burst from the body’s nerves in unison, as if to reject the foreign presence. To make room for the invader, the inmate’s soul was rapidly squeezed out. Panama X could feel the man holding on for dear life. At last, the inmate let go; Panama X felt like he was rushing through a pitch black cave toward a tiny pinprick of light.

Panama X was aware of a paralyzing fear as he awoke. He opened his eyes underwater and saw a giant anaconda within striking distance. Gasping, he allowed more deadly floodwater into his fragile new system. While choking, he saw the snake dim and then dissipate altogether—a mirage.

With renewed focus, he burst through the water, finding a small pocket of air near the ceiling. He sucked in precious oxygen until his chest burned. There was an immense psychic force at work here. It was familiar to him. He hadn’t experienced anything like this since...

“
Jhonnette Deveaux told me your plans.”

That was it. Desiree Deveaux’s daughter was here somewhere. He had a feeling Jhonnette was deeply involved in everything that was happening. She’d manipulated Randy, and Panama X suspected she’d gotten to Amir as well. And why? To get to him—her father.

Why didn’t you tell me, Desiree?

Panama X had to shut her down. But first, he would save as many men as he could.

* * * * *

“
Jhonnette, listen to me. Whatever you’re seeing isn’t real. Do you hear me? This isn’t real.” Moses tried to maintain his calm but the water was now up to his chest. He was seeing things, too. The top of a human head had just emerged before him in the water. As the head rolled back, Moses found himself staring at Walter Simmons’ corpse face.

“
You really let me down, Moses,” the head gurgled.

“
Jhonnette, get down off the bunk!” Moses yelled. “One foot at a time. Close your eyes if you need to.” Moses decided to take his own advice, but could still hear Walter talking.

“
You just let Malcolm walk out with my wife,” Walter said. “You let them go. Why did you do that?”

Jhonnette was now in the water, pulling him out of the wheelchair.

“
Running away again?” Walter’s head asked.

Jhonnette was trembling, sobbing, and muttering “Oh, God” over and over again. Moses couldn’t imagine what horrors she was witnessing. If it was anything like Walter’s charred death mask, then God help them both.

Moses had a flash of insight. He grasped Jhonnette’s hand and yelled, “Jhonnette! Pray!”

Walter’s head was relentless. “Look what happened to my face!”

Moses prayed out loud as Jhonnette wailed into his ear. The combined noise finally drowned out Walter’s voice. Jhonnette pushed Moses out of the cell into the corridor. “Keep moving, Jhonnette!” Moses shouted. “No matter what you see or hear!”

That was easier said than done. All around them, men shrieked like pigs in a slaughterhouse because of the visions the water carried. They were standing on their bunks as Jhonnette had been, screaming as their ghosts laughed. All the cell doors were open but only he and Jhonnette were moving. As they approached the exit, he wondered how high the water was outside.

Jhonnette lost her footing and went under. Moses reached for her in the murky water and pulled her back to the surface. Her face was a mask of terror. Moses shook her but got no response. Her mind was gone.

Water rolled into his nostrils. He snorted it out. Moses knew he couldn’t support the two of them, but refused to let go.

There’s got to be some sort of roof access in here. Check the walls.

Most of the buildings in the prison were one story. Moses had read that after the last time the levees broke, they’d installed roof hatches for moments like this. But he didn’t see anything.

Wait. There was a roof hatch a few feet away. How was he supposed to pull them both out of here?

Jhonnette was pulled from his grasp as he considered this. A voice said, “So you’re the one causing all this trouble?”

Moses turned his head and laid eyes on a middle-aged, dark-skinned black man. “Who are you?”

The man stared back at Moses. “The universe works in mysterious ways, indeed. Looks like this time I get to save you, Tabs.”

* * * * *

Chapter Seventy-Nine

Lake City, LA

Brandon and Karen emerged from the rain into a grand entry hall. Brandon stared in awe at the spiral staircase leading up to the second story and the large ornate carpets in the two front rooms that looked like they came out of a history book.

The ceiling hovered some thirty feet above them. White columns separated the entry foyer from the front hallway. A beautiful crystal chandelier dangled overhead. Everything smelled faintly of pine and cedar.

“
Where…where are we?” Brandon stammered.

Karen led him into the great room. They were not alone. A slim, but muscular, fair-skinned black man sat on an archaic couch beside a beautiful, dark-haired, white woman. Their clothes were straight out of the colonial period. The black man reminded Brandon of Lincoln. They had the same eyes.

“
Welcome home, Karen,” the woman spoke. “We’ve been expecting you.”

Karen moved toward the couch. Brandon had a strong feeling that something bad was going to happen when she got to them. Propelled by the urge to protect her, Brandon darted forward and blocked Karen’s path.

Karen tossed him aside like an empty pillowcase. He hit the wall and crumpled to the floor, helpless.

“
It’s time, Karen,” the woman coaxed. “Time for you to join us.”

Karen stopped before them.

The man stood and opened his arms as if to embrace her, but then he recoiled. “You!” he yelled.

Karen’s head tilted slightly, and she replied in that guttural voice, “You…can’t…have…her.”

The woman jumped up and stood toe-to-toe with Karen. “She is rightfully ours!”

Karen grabbed the woman by the throat and flung her across the room. Then she raised her hand as the man prepared to engage her. “Isaac. Others…are…coming.”

“
It’s too late, Kristopher. We have chosen. Release her to us. Release this body,
baka
.”

Isaac? Kristopher?

As strange as it seemed, it finally made sense. Brandon didn’t have a clue who Isaac was, but Karen was clearly possessed by her dead brother. He was speaking through her like a bad ventriloquist.

What the hell am I thinking? That’s impossible.

As Brandon got to his feet, Karen pointed at him. “Lincoln…will…come…for him. Make…them…choose.”

Choose what?

For the first time Isaac marked Brandon’s presence. Brandon did not enjoy having those bloodshot eyes looking at him.

Thankfully, Isaac turned his attention back to Karen and said, “And if they choose incorrectly?”

“
Either way…you win.”

The woman was back on her feet. Isaac looked at her for confirmation. She nodded her assent.

“
Alright, then, we will conduct the reckoning in the old style, Kristopher. This time.” As Isaac spoke, the house began to change. He and the woman began to fade as well.

In a matter of seconds, Brandon watched the interior of the house turn from an antebellum plantation to a modern mansion. The orange glow dissipated, leaving him in the dark. Shadowy darkness replaced the waning afternoon light as rain and wind swirled about the house.

“
Brandon?” a weak female voice called out.

“
Karen!” he cried. Relief coursed his body. “Are you okay?”

“
I…can’t move.”

Brandon helped her onto the sofa. He tried to switch on the lamp but the power was out. “Karen, you have to tell me what’s happening here.”

Tears sprang from their deep, dark wells and streaked down Karen’s face. “He said the curse wasn’t real. He lied to me.”

“
Who lied? Kristopher? What’s this curse?”

“
Kristopher went to see Abby the night before he died, but he lied to me about what she said.”

“
Who the hell is Abby?”

“
They talked about the spirit world. Curses, voodoo, ghosts…God. Our belief makes them possible.”

Brandon was confused. “Then why do they say that voodoo can affect you even if you don’t believe in it?”

Karen wiped her tears away. “My family has fed into this curse from the very beginning. We have made so many sacrifices to Isaac and Melinda, each time hoping it would be the last time. But now I know, as long as we stay here, the curse will come back to haunt our children, and our children’s children. Somebody has to pay for Isaac, Melinda, and their unborn child. Kristopher paid that price…”

“
Then why don’t you just leave?” Brandon asked.

“
One of our ancestors tried that, and it actually worked for a while,” Karen continued. “But they are so patient. They waited. Then our grandfather was born. They whispered to him as a child and he came back home. There’s no escape. The only way is to give them an offering they can’t refuse.”

This was the craziest story Brandon had ever heard. Still, he believed her. He’d seen the ghosts with his own eyes. How could he doubt that?

Karen grabbed his shirt and pulled him down on top of her. “Quiet. Someone’s here.”

“
Who’s coming, Karen?” he whispered. “How can we stop them? How can we end this?”