The Naked Truth (23 page)

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Authors: Natasha Rostova

BOOK: The Naked Truth
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‘Callie had one, of course.’
‘Why did she show it to you?’
‘Ah, you are sceptic.’ She lifted her finger and shook her head, her dark eyes twinkling. ‘You and Callie both. I suspect you are more alike than either one of you wishes to believe.’
‘Callie and I are completely different.’
She shrugged and held out her hand gracefully. ‘I am Abiona. Would you like to come in for a moment?’
Logan hesitated, but figured he had very few things left to lose. He shook her hand and followed her inside, glancing around at the bold colours, African masks and fetish items. Abiona watched him for a moment, then shook her head.
‘Your harmony is in complete disarray, Logan.’
‘My harmony?’
‘Your inner self.’
Logan almost muttered something about ‘New Age crap’, but stopped himself just in time.
‘Please, sit.’ Abiona waved towards a chair. ‘May I ask why you came to see me?’
‘It’s a mistake,’ Logan replied. ‘I’m sorry to have taken up your time.’
‘Sit, sit.’ Abiona draped herself over a chair and looked him up and down. ‘People don’t come to me in error, Logan.’
‘Maybe not, but I did.’
‘Well, then, a fortuitous error it must be,’ Abiona said lightly. ‘At least have some tea before you go. You can tell me about Callie. I like her very much.’
Logan sat down. He had the odd sensation that Abiona’s creamy voice and the strange spirituality of her home could wipe away the sordidness of his encounter with Elenore.
Abiona rose and left the room for a moment before returning with a pot of tea. After handing him a cup, she curled up in her chair and eyed him curiously. ‘Who is damaging your harmony so badly?’
Logan gave her a startled look. He’d always prided himself on being difficult to read. ‘How do you know that anyone is?’
‘I suspect you wouldn’t have come to me for another reason,’ Abiona replied. ‘Unless you wish a love spell to return Callie to you?’
‘I don’t need a spell for that.’
‘No, I imagine you don’t.’ She sipped her tea and continued looking at him with a penetratingly perceptive gaze. ‘So, what is it then?’
Logan cleared his throat. ‘What was Callie doing here?’
‘If she wants you to know, she will tell you herself,’ Abiona said. ‘You cannot expect to know everything about her. I doubt she knows everything about you.’
‘There are some things she doesn’t need to know.’
‘Perhaps that’s part of the reason she left you,’ Abiona replied. She glanced at the clock on the wall and stood up. ‘I’m afraid I have an appointment in fifteen minutes. I do hope you will come back to see me again. Perhaps a ritual or a spell will be in order.’
‘I’m sorry, but I don’t believe in this sort of thing.’
‘Never dismiss worlds outside your own, Logan.’ Abiona placed her hand on his back and walked him to the door. ‘We are having a voodoo ceremony this Saturday night on Tybee Island. You are most welcome to attend. Perhaps it will provide you with more insight into our religion.’
‘I’ll think about it. Thank you for your time.’
As he left the priestess’s home, Logan caught himself wondering if Callie would be at this so-called ceremony.
Chapter Eleven
 
C
allie slipped a full, white skirt over her hips and buttoned a loose, cotton blouse. Abiona had told her to wear light colours but, other than that, Callie had no idea what the proper attire was for a voodoo ceremony. Still, she suspected that formal dress wasn’t required. She brushed her hair and looked in the mirror. The henna tattoo Abiona painted on her breast had faded, but Callie had been wearing the
mojo
bag around her neck all week.
Considering she hadn’t seen Logan for the last week, she thought the protective spell had, indeed, started to work. That aspect of it, at least. But she couldn’t help wondering if Logan had simply given up on her after their last encounter. And why on earth did she feel somewhat disappointed at the thought? Wasn’t that what she wanted?
‘Ready, Callie?’ Tess called up the stairs.
‘Yes.’ Callie hurried down to meet Tess. ‘I didn’t know what to wear.’
‘You look great,’ Tess assured her. Adam stood next to her, dressed in beige trousers and a T-shirt.
‘Hey, Callie,’ he greeted. ‘Hope you don’t mind if I go along.’
‘Of course not. Nice to see you again.’ Callie gave the young man a warm smile. She couldn’t help liking him, despite his connection to her husband. She was certain, however, that Adam wasn’t reporting back to Logan about her activities. He was too afraid that Logan would find out about his own latest hobbies.
The three of them went out to Tess’s car and climbed inside. The voodoo ceremony site was located on a remote corner of Tybee Island that hadn’t yet been overrun by development. Right near an isolated spot of beach, a large roof made of wood and palm leaves was held up by five posts, one in the centre and four at each corner. There were no walls, leaving the space open on all sides to the breeze and the scent of the beach. At least ten drums sat around the perimeter of the structure, and five intricately painted altars dedicated to the
loas
rested along one side. Numerous flowers, candles, food items, and bottles of perfume and alcohol had been placed before the altars.
‘It’s called the peristyle,’ Tess explained as they walked towards the structure. ‘That’s where the sacred dances take place.’
Next to the peristyle, a group of women were busy setting out massive amounts of food and drink. Several dozen people wandered around the area, some dressed in what appeared to be ritual costumes of colourful sarongs and shell jewellery, and others wearing simple jeans or skirts. As the thickness of darkness began to descend, three men began lighting torches and lanterns.
Pemba waved and approached them with a wide smile on her face. She was elaborately dressed in a flowing black-and-white robe, with a matching turban and chunky, white jewellery.
‘Hello, children,’ she said. ‘I am so pleased you came.’
Tess introduced Adam, and Pemba kissed them all on the cheek.
‘Abiona has been waiting for you as well,’ Pemba said. ‘We will begin shortly. Come and eat something first.’
She led them towards the food, which consisted of everything from coconut cake to an entire roasted pig. Abiona came towards them, looking stunning in a white sarong with a cloth band wrapped around her head. She smiled and greeted them, then took Callie’s arm and pulled her aside.
‘The spell, Callie,’ she said. ‘It is working?’
‘I think so,’ Callie admitted. ‘My husband was waiting for me after I left your house last Sunday, but I haven’t seen or heard from him since then.’
‘And your thoughts?’
Callie flushed and glanced away from Abiona’s penetrating gaze. How could she explain that she couldn’t seem to get Logan out of her thoughts? He appeared in her mind so frequently – usually memories of him when his guard had been down. He had so seldom been unguarded, but sometimes Callie would look at him when he was reading or planting new shrubs in the garden, or unfurling the sail on his boat, or even working at his desk. And every now and then, she would catch him with his features relaxed, his dark hair falling over his forehead, the lines of his body eased from tension. Those were the moments that haunted her now. Those and the memory of that one night of angry passion.
‘Callie?’ Abiona’s long fingers touched Callie’s chin, urging their eyes to meet again. ‘He is still with you, yes?’
Callie nodded. ‘I’m not surprised, though. It’s been almost a month since I left him, but I lived with him for three years. I can’t expect to stop thinking about him so soon.’
Abiona nodded. ‘That is true.’ She pursed her lips thoughtfully and touched Callie’s hair. ‘You miss him then, yes?’
The question startled Callie. ‘Well, I don’t miss the restrictions of being with him, but I guess sometimes I . . . I might miss
him
.’
Abiona smiled her beautiful smile and patted Callie’s cheek. ‘Your harmony will be returned soon.’
‘I hope so.’
The crowd of people began moving towards the peristyle, signalling the beginning of the ceremony. Abiona kissed Callie’s cheek and hurried off to join the other devotees. Callie found Tess and Adam, who were sitting cross-legged around the edge of the structure. She slipped her shoes off and sat down next to Tess, arranging her full skirt over her legs. A nervous excitement stirred in her belly. She had no idea what to expect from this ceremony.
The drummers took their positions and began to beat a slow, steady rhythm with their hands. Flames from the torches and lanterns flickered over the scene, creating an eerie, reddish glow. A tall man wearing white trousers and a loose shirt approached the centre of the peristyle, holding a bowl of water. He had striking features with high cheekbones and large eyes. His white clothing highlighted the smooth darkness of his skin. He began chanting words that Callie couldn’t understand, but they carried a musical intonation that rose and fell with the drumbeat.
‘That’s Kadja,’ Tess whispered to Callie. ‘He’s one of the priests. Now he’ll draw what’s called a
vever
in order to invoke the
loa
.’
Kadja lifted the bowl towards all four corners of the peristyle, then poured water at each entrance. Then he passed the bowl to Pemba, who repeated the actions. Several other participants had begun chanting, their words a strange twisting of French, English and West African dialects. Kadja took another bowl of flour and cornmeal, picking a small amount between his thumb and forefinger as he trickled it around the centre post. His body shifted with each step he took around the peristyle, creating an elaborate pattern on the floor. His movements were so graceful and hypnotic that Callie was entranced.
The drumbeat continued and began to resound in Callie’s head. The deep, rich sound of chanting filled the air. Two other men approached the centre of the peristyle and circled round the centre post, before kneeling and kissing the ground. Moving rhythmically, they scattered bits of food over the intricate
vever
design to feed the
loa
. Kadja continued his singular incantation as Pemba approached, carrying a live, squawking chicken by its legs. The sound of prayer began to rise from the crowd.
Callie winced. She’d heard the rumours about voodoo sacrifice, but she had been hoping they were just that: rumours. Tess touched her arm and leant close to whisper in her ear.
‘I know it seems weird, but it’s an important part of honouring the
loa
.’
Callie tried not to cringe as she watched Kadja walk around the peristyle with the chicken, passing it over the heads of the participants. His dark skin began to glow with a sheen of sweat. Slowly, he lowered the bird towards the food on the
vever
, and the chicken pecked at a piece of grain.
‘There, now the chicken is identified with the spirit,’ Tess explained. ‘Now it can be sacrificed because the
loa
will accept it.’
The voices began to rise, reaching a crescendo of growing excitement along with the pounding drums. The air vibrated with anticipation and uncertainty. Callie’s mouth went dry as she watched Kadja, his body in constant, fluid motion, hold up the chicken. He took a knife and slit the bird’s throat, letting the blood drip into a bowl of water. Callie wanted to look away, but she was completely mesmerised by the gracefulness of Kadja’s movements and the increasing reverence of the participants. Most of them stood around the peristyle, clapping and chanting in time to the drumbeat. As Kadja laid the bird on the
vever
, the others began sprinkling it with flour, coffee grains and water.
‘That’s the final offering,’ Tess said. ‘Now they’ll take it away to be cleaned and cooked, and wait for the
loa
to mount someone.’
‘Mount?’
‘Possess.’
Callie swallowed hard. Echoes of the drumbeat began to pulse in her blood, recalling some deep, primitive instinct. She watched as people began to stand and move around the peristyle and the
vever
, stamping the ground with their feet and clapping wildly. Voices hovered in the air. Bodies shifted and writhed, hips twisting as they shook wooden rattles and danced around the centre post. Callie’s gaze went to Abiona, who joined in the ritual. Her body was so loose and pliant that she seemed almost other-worldly as she moved in exultation to honour the spirits. The dancers were totally unselfconscious, shedding their egos to give themselves over to ritual. The sound of clanging iron split through the air to accompany the drums. Energy stirred in Callie’s blood, intensified by the heady, thick beat.
Abiona stopped in front of her. Callie stared up at the other woman, unable to process her thoughts in the face of Abiona’s exquisite beauty. Abiona’s body vibrated with exertion, her skin glowing with sweat. Without a word, she reached down and took Callie’s hands, pulling her into the ritualistic dance. Sound filled Callie’s ears; an intensity without pause or relief. Body heat from the other dancers coated the air around her. She grasped Abiona’s hand and began to move, letting the electric atmosphere into her soul. Bodies undulated like waves of the ocean around the centre post, voices rising.

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