Possessed (12 page)

I looked at him. “Is it a crime to be
hungry?”

“
No, but I know your type of
hunger. The type that is never satisfied because you’re afraid that
one day there’s going to be no more food.”

I let out a low sigh. “No, you’re
wrong. If you ever bothered enjoying something instead of being
bitter all the time, you’d see that sometimes you have to
appreciate the little things and savor them. You haven’t even tried
a snail. Yummy- look, buttery goodness,” I said, as I held up a
snail in front of his lips.

He didn’t crack a smile. He simply
shook his head and continued to drink his champagne.

We ate in utter silence and with every
delicious bite I could feel myself slipping further and further
into darkness. For a split second I remembered that my actual body
was still sitting in a spiritual bath in Darkwood; how long would
it stay there? I needed to find my way back home, and
fast.

Chapter 15

After-Dinner Drinks and
Dancing

“
I had dinner with you, now
let me go,” I said, as soon as I finished the last fried
oyster.

Ivan stood up and took my hand. “I’m in
the mood for some after-dinner drinks and dancing. Are you thirsty,
queen?”

“
After-dinner
drinks?”

“
Yeah. It’ll be super fun, I
promise,” he grinned and his grey eyes gleamed
mischievously.

I knew he was purposely dragging out
the whole thing. I felt like kicking him and running away, but that
wasn’t exactly a very mature plan, and plus where would I go? I had
no supplies here and Erzulie was forcing me to work with other
spirits. Who would I call? A hopeful part of me prayed that Ivan
was just bored and maybe this was his way of passing a rainy night.
I knew I was beyond immature for thinking that but I was kind of
out of options. At least agreeing to drinks would give me time to
think and strategize. I needed to come up with a plan, and
fast.

“
Okay,” I nodded, as I
followed him out of the dining room and down an opulent,
smoke-filled hall.

“
Here we are,” said Ivan, as
we entered an enormous octagon-shaped barroom. Even though I was
horrid at math, I estimated the room to be seventy feet wide and
almost twenty feet high. In other words, it was massive and
intimidating. As I examined the looming Ionic columns that circled
the area, I felt so small and tiny; almost like a minuscule ant
that could be squished at any second.

“
Welcome to progress,” said
Ivan.

I held my hands and inhaled the air,
which was filled with cigar smoke and exotic accents. Elegant men
and woman sipped champagne, whiskey, Sezeracs and what appeared to
be St. Charles Punch. Conversations about stocks, theatre, fashion
and politics were everywhere in fluent French, Spanish, and
English. Couples danced in a refined fashion to the grand piano
music that invigorated the atmosphere. The whole scene was almost
overwhelming to the point of being excessive.

Ivan took my hand into his. “Let’s go
for a spin on the dance floor.”

It’s not like I had a choice or
anything, so I followed him. We started to move and Ivan let out a
small laugh. “You’re such a bad dancer.”

“
I know, and yet you still
want to dance with me,” I said, as my eyes met his.

He smirked. “I bet you’re thinking
about how your feet are moving. Being all paranoid.”

“
No. I’m wondering what
we’re doing here. Now that dinner is over, enough with the
suspense. Let me in on why you brought me here. Oh wait, don’t tell
me- you just wanted to see me dolled up in a ball gown.”

“
Prince Charming has given
you quite the ego, hasn’t he? We’re here to watch a
show.”

“
Show?” I asked.

“
Yeah. It’s gonna be
fun.”

“
What kind of
show?”

“
I show that I used to
preform in.”

“
You used to be an
actor?”

“
I did. I played the part
they wanted me to play.”

“
That’s pretty
cryptic.”

He smiled as he led me towards the
bar.

“
What would the lady like to
drink?” he asked.

“
A St. Charles Punch,” I
said quietly, as the sinking feeling in my stomach returned. I felt
my throat get dry as goosebumps crawled up my bare arms.

“
How much are you worth,
queen?” asked Ivan, as he handed me the flamboyant cocktail. “How
much is your box worth?”

A took a huge gulp of the sweet
cocktail and tried to make sense of his question. “You can’t put a
price on a person,” I said firmly.

He pinched my cheek and took a sip of
his Sezerac. “You’re so cute sometimes. Come on now, it’s
starting.”

Chapter 16

The Show

We entered a large room that was
located a few steps above the barroom. Like the space below, it was
massive, and consisted of a shiny marble floor leading up to an
elevated platform that served as some kind of stage. Directly above
the stage there was a gigantic cover that was propped up by thick
Corinthian-style columns. The wall directly behind the stage was
covered in a mural of some sort.

To the left side of the stage there was
a long table where a group of serious-looking men sat. Given the
fact that they were absorbed in the mountains of papers that were
in front of them, I assumed they were directors, writers or
producers. Perhaps investors?

The audience consisted of roughly two
hundred people, mostly men. Some were smoking; others were casually
reading newspapers or deep in conversation with the person next to
them.

“
What kind of show is this?”
I asked. Clearly we weren’t here for the opera or some Shakespeare.
For a second I actually livened up and thought it would be a Moulin
Rouge-type number. However, given the vibe I got from the crowd, it
was highly unlikely that they were into musicals.

“
Let’s have a seat,” said
Ivan, as he ignored my question and made himself comfortable on a
wooden chair. Reluctantly, I sat down and looked at the stage. As
it lit up, the chatter of the crowd grew louder and the smoke
thicker.

I noticed a few disgustingly grimy men
who loitered in front of the stage. With their tobacco stained
mouths, dirty clothes, and red noses, they were totally out of
place amongst the well-dressed guests. Were they actors?

“
It’s starting,” whispered
Ivan in morbid excitement.

One by one men, women and children
started to march out on stage. All of them were well-dressed. The
men wore matching black suits, top hats, and crisp white shirts.
Their shoes gleamed under the stage lights and their skin, which
ranged in tone from ivory to ebony, shone as if it had just been
freshly scrubbed and waxed. The women, who were equally as refined,
wore matching blue dresses with long sleeves and matching
headscarves. They arranged themselves in groups according to their
gender and height. From the tallest to the smallest. The men stood
on one end of the stage while the women stood on the
other.

They didn’t move or say anything.
Instead, they simply stood there with their hands behind their
backs and heavy, defeated expressions plastered on their faces. As
I watched them stand there with forced smiles on their faces I felt
their miserable energy creep into my bloodstream. It was full of
uncertainty, despair and outright fear as they peered into the
crowd of spectators. Silent tears flowed down the faces of some of
the women as they watched their children shamelessly on display in
the middle of the stage.

Even though I wasn’t exactly the
world’s best detective, it became very evident that this wasn’t an
ordinary show and waves of disgust washed over me as I realized
that in this luxurious hotel, where people ate some of the finest
food in the world and used golden utensils, a slave trade was about
to take place. I stood up to leave because I needed to get far as
way from there as possible. Sadly, I didn’t have the stomach to
watch it take place; it made me furious, but at the same time
absolutely powerless and tiny.

The loa had told me repeatedly that the
past could never be changed and I had accepted that. However,
seeing those poor people being auctioned and treated like pieces of
furniture made me disgusted and uncontrollably angry. I tried to
scream but when I opened my mouth nothing came out, no words- all
my rage was trapped inside me, unable to escape or protest on
behalf of those who couldn’t speak for themselves.

Ivan took my hand and forced me back
down. “Stop being so dramatic.”

A grimy man with unruly brown hair
shouted out a name and an incredibly tall slave with a wide mouth
and strong arms came forward. Under the bright stage lights his
dark skin was smooth, shiny and flawless almost as if it had been
coated with oil. I doubt that he was much older than twenty.
Although he smiled sweetly I could sense that he was utterly
terrified because he knew that he had no control over his
fate.

“
He’s prime property,” said
Ivan.

“
Prime property? What are
you talking about?”

Ivan let out a sigh. “Yeah, prime
property. He’s a guy, within the fifteen to forty-five age bracket,
tall, well-built; his skin is on the darker end of the spectrum
which means he can take the summer heat. He’s built for working in
the fields and since cotton is king, I’m pretty sure someone’s
going to pay…”

“
Eight hundred and fifty
dollars,” shouted a voice within the crowd.

“
Nine hundred and fifty,”
shouted another.

“
What you see in front of
you, queen, are not humans but property. They can be bought, sold
and traded at the whim of their owner. Hell, they can also be
conveniently used as collateral against mortgages and loans. Got a
gambling debt? Don’t have enough cash? Not a problem- sell off a
slave or two. It’s that easy.”

I finally understood Ivan’s ceaseless
musings about boxes. What I saw before me was humanity literally
divided into boxes. Priced, tagged and categorized in every
conceivable manner. Height, weight, skin color, skills, gender. It
was horrific and uncomfortable to watch.

One by one the auctioneer called out a
new name and a new slave came forward. Audience members asked them
questions and they answered almost as if it were a job interview.
It was a sickening sight to behold. For the life of me I couldn’t
understand why they didn’t just run or tell the crowd off. In
theory that’s what I would have done, but in reality I wondered if
it would have been that simple. Would I have had the courage to
stand up for myself when I wasn’t even viewed as a human being?
Would I have seen myself as a person or a product? If I ran, where
would I have run?

Unable to take the sight any longer, I
turned towards Ivan. “Why are you making me watch this?” I asked,
as I looked at him with fury.

He shrugged. “You should get a peek of
how it really went down. A glimpse underneath the shiny veneer of
Ken’s life. How those shiny marble floors and crystal chandeliers
came to be.”

“
This,” I pointed to the
stage, “will never be right, but what good is it to blame him for
everything?”

Ivan started to laugh. “His father
filled his stomach with rich food, smoked cigars, sipped whiskey
and then causally sat around and bought my mother, probably at a
place like this. She was his property. I was his property. What
kind of monster does that? What possible justification is there for
having the need to control someone’s life and soul?”

“
You can’t blame Lucus for
what his father did. That’s not fair.” I can’t believe I said
that’s not fair. That’s not fair? What kind of defense was that? It
sounded like something a preschooler would say. What was fair? As
soon the words came out of my mouth I felt my cheeks turn
hot.

Ivan continued to laugh so hard that
tears started to slide down his cheeks and his face turned bright
red. When he was able to finally speak, he said, “Oh queen, did you
seriously use that line? Do you think this was fair to my mother or
any one of them? Let me clue you in on something, nothing is fair.
It never has been and it never will be. You’re an idiot for
believing that fair is what makes the world go round and round. My
mother was never given a fair chance.”

“
You wanted to see if she
would be here, didn’t you?” In a moment of clarity I realized the
real reason Ivan had come to this place after he had woken up in
his new body. Why he had tried to blend in with the wealthy. “You
wanted to find your mother and you figured that if you bought her,
you could free her,” I whispered. “But you never did, did you? You
never found her and you never got the answers you wanted… The
answers you needed. It’s been tormenting you all of these years,
hasn’t it?”

Ivan’s eyes narrowed; as he focused his
attention on me his expression was severe and cold. “You have no
idea what you’re talking about. This is about Ken and people like
Ken. You’re delusional to think that this,” he said, as he pointed
to the stage, “doesn’t occur even today. How many people suffer on
account of greed and entitlement? How many people work crappy jobs
with slave-like wages while the rich sit around and pretend that
everything is alright? How many people are starving, suffering,
dying? How many corrupt governments take advantage of the poor and
blame it on the crappy economy while they sit on piles of cash and
smoke their big-ass cigars? Nobody ever wants to really tell the
truth. The truth is the whole world is living under a big veneer
because reality makes everyone uncomfortable. Well, I’m sorry,
queen, but I am the truth and the truth says that Ken deserves to
suffer. He needs to pay for everything he’s taken. Someone needs to
pay and it might as well be him.”