“And if it doesn’t work?” Jessica asked.
“There are lots of treatment options, but this isn’t going to work overnight. Be patient. You’ll get your son back,” the doctor said, trying to sound sympathetic. Jessica doubted his sincerity.
Tom and Jessica left the doctor’s office with Henry trailing behind.
Once on the road, Tom asked, “So what do you think?”
“Seeing is believing. Never even considered a shrink for Natalie. Maybe get one that’s more local. I am trying to have an open mind about all of this. Let’s get him his meds, let him limp around school and church, and I’ll call Jake tomorrow.”
Chapter 38
Lucien spent half of his life stealing the life forces of the dead. Decades later, through much introspection, he saw his reality: death was the only gift his life had to offer. Why did he fight it? Why did he ruin everything good for it? He didn’t fear the dead or the
loas
, and he didn’t fear pain. It was the afterlife that made him tremble.
Lucien had always prided himself for being superhuman, god-like. But now he was not so sure. T.J.’s
ti
-bon-
ange
was taking over his mind. His precious
loas
, especially the Baron, deceived him. He wasn’t special or chosen or powerful. He was a weak man who had been used as an earthly portal. He longed to be free, despite the circumstances.
Lucien thought back to his youth, remembering the first of many wrong paths he chose throughout the years. His
ego
elevated to an all-time high once initiated into the
Bizango
Society. He was so young, barely
twenty
. His uncle saw his ambition and talent beneficial to the brotherhood. He wore red and black garb with pride and painted his face in honor of various ceremonies. He watched Philippe, the
bokor
of the society,
with awe as he brought
forth possession and heal
ed
the sick.
As the years passed, Lucien no longer admired Philippe, but saw him as primitive, incompetent, and a drain on the brotherhood. His brethren were in need of a
bokor
with real power, and Lucien believed himself to
be
the best man for the job.
By the time he was thirty, Lucien’s status rose through their ranks and his duties increased. He was one of the most trustworthy members. After making some discreet attempts at ruining Philippe’s reputation, an opportunity presented itself one evening at Black Mass.
The
Bizango
brethren were celebrating with family
,
dancing, drinking rum, and allowing themselves to be possessed. The night’s sacrifice, a wild boar, slept in a cage next to the altar. Lucien was responsible for administering a mixture of poison and analgesic for the boar that would keep the animal alive but unconscious throughout the
ceremonial
slaughter.
Philippe drank too much, making sabotage even easier. Lucien gave the boar a fraction of the mixture, making the boar sleepy without being sedated. The animal peacefully lay while Philippe recited incantations for the evening’s sacrifice. Once
finished, he slit into the boar. Blood oozed from the animal’s side and it groggily lifted his head. Not noticing the animal’s slight movement, Philippe placed both hands in the animal blood and wiped it on his head, reciting another incantation. He finalized the incantations with his blessing, prepared to finish off the sacrifice.
After a few
slashings
, the boar was wide awake. It flipped over during one of Philippe’s deep incisions and became aggressive, devouring him alive
in seconds
. Other brethren defensively stepped in and impaled the
animal
.
Relying on his brethren’s egos, Lucien used flattery, claiming they killed a
djab
or devil, a feat few were alive to brag about. He swore he saw the boar’s eyes turn red. He proved to be very persuasive. By the end of the night, everyone believed Philippe brought his misfortune on himself by making a mockery of Black Mass. The community claimed
Phillipe’s
death was predestined by the
loas
.
The only
Bizango
brother with any doubts was Lucien’s uncle. He gave Lucien that knowing glance, but kept the deception to himself. His uncle salvaged
Phillippe’s
head, picked it clean until all that was left was the skull, and
then
made it into a goblet for his nephew. He presented the gift to honor Lucien after he was unanimously
promoted
to
bokor
status. The position granted him access to
ancient spells written in scrolls, books, and loose parchment paper
.
Some were already familiar, passed down to him from his great-great-great-great grandfather, Plato the Wizard, but other spells were new material.
He practiced the craft all hours of the day with blind ambition.
Lucien saw
Philippe
as
a buffoon.
The man had volumes of
ancient information at his fingertips and he never touched it, relying on verbal spells he had learned from his father. Lucien later learned that Philippe was illiterate.
Soon ancient spell books weren’t enough. Thirsty for knowledge, Lucien experimented on his own, adding more spells and hexes to his repertoire. One of his favorite tricks was using
baka
or animal possessing spirits for his own agenda. These spirits brought him closer to the
loas
, especially Baron
Samedi
.
As Lucien’s powers grew, he felt like a god. Manipulating zombies, separating souls, and making Voodoo dolls were some of the miracles he performed. Fame and fortune soon followed. When too many dead bodies turned up, he was the one who was blamed. He relied on Voodoo to help him escape his jail cell. Now banned from his
homeland without need to continue his sorcery, he still could not let his life’s work die. That’s where Jake came in. He unfortunately brought Henry into the mix.
T.J.’s death was not a
consequence
of Voodoo, but a warning from the Cosmos. Lucien should have stopped the mentoring
the boys right then and there, b
ut
when
he learned Henry would be in Haiti
he
couldn’t leave it alone.
Henry was all too willing to deliver an envelope to his daughter. Inside the envelope was a
pad of paper filled with
his most impressive hexes and healing methods. The
se family secrets
would
make her and her family wealthy beyond their imagination
.
And then Jake rushed over one humid morning in June, announcing the return of the Novak family along with the tragedy they encountered. Lucien’s
conscience whispered
Giselle, his daughter,
was somehow to blame.
Was she jealous? Did she tell one of her siblings or his wives?
He wondered.
Lucien pushed the possibility out of his mind, preferring to believe Henry was a victim of angry, homeless people settled in the nearby refugee camp.
But the boy was found in Port-au-Prince,
said his nagging inner voice.
Giselle confirmed the delivery when Lucien called, describing Henry as unfriendly and in a hurry, denying the boy’s abduction.
Could she have used him in a ceremony? Or even a Black Mass? Oh Baron, he
was
not part of our deal.
Chapter 39
Jessica robotically followed Dr. Gold’s instructions down to the letter. Over the last two months, she hauled Henry out to Eau Claire for his psychiatric therapy, praying several times a day for God to lead him out of his haze. He would eat, but had to be fed like a baby. He would drink, but had to drink with a straw held up to his mouth. He would allow others to lead him, yet had still not spoken a single word since they returned from Haiti. She began to prepare herself for the possibility of him never speaking again.
Since Jake had recently gotten his driver’s license, he had been by the house several times to see Henry. During his most recent visit, Jake brought Lucien
Nazaire
. Jessica couldn’t help but notice
the old man’s
rejuvenated appearance since the last time she had seen him. She had everyone sit around the kitchen table while she served cookies and tea. Henry stared at the wall without any signs of recognition. Once all the pleasantries were made, she got up the nerve to ask some questions.
“Lucien, you’re Haitian. Do you know a lot about Voodoo?” He smiled. “I assumed you would.” She also assumed he taught Henry a thing or two about it. Part of her held him accountable for Henry’s condition. She blamed Lucien for planting the seed of interest about the Haitian culture which led to their mission and ultimately the horrible incident. She sensed there was more to Lucien, something evil. There was a moment of silence. She paused, and then poured more tea, rehashing their Haitian nightmare until Jake politely
stopped
her.
“Mrs. Novak, I already told him everything. He has some suspicions about what caused all of this.”
“Then you must know Tom was sure the police were holding back information. Why would they do this? What do you think happened?” cried Jessica.
His eyes looked down at the floor, suggesting guilt or avoidance to her questions. “Is he making progress with his doctor?” Lucien queried.
“No, not at all. I’ve had to quit my job in order to take him to therapy. Not really a job, more of volunteer work. But I really enjoyed it. Now I spend hours and hours playing worthless mind games the doctor thinks will jog his memory. I can’t leave him alone. Please, tell me your theory.”
“You’re not going to like what I have to say, but from observing him and what Jake has told me…I think he was taken as a vessel,” Lucien confessed.
Confused, Jessica mumbled, “Huh?”
“Vessel, channel…He was taken for a ritual. Did he wear a bright scarf when the police found him?” She shook her head
, but was instantly reminded of a nightmare she had before the trip
. “I think he stumbled upon a ritual, and the
bokor
wanted to use his body for a
loa
, maybe a dead ancestor. Spirit possession. Something happened. He got away,” Lucien
said, leaving out the part he played in Henry’s assault
.
“So you think he’s possessed? That’s ridiculous! His shrink makes more sense, and he’s an idiot! Okay, let’s say for the sake of argument that you are right. What are the cuts we found on him all about?” Jess sarcastically asked.
“I’m sorry that I’ve upset you, but do not mock what you don’t understand. The cuts were made for his blood.
Real blood, both animal and human, is used all of the time in Voodoo ceremonies.
They certainly didn’t want him dead. One day he will awake,” Lucien assured.
“Logically, if Voodoo can put him into a haze, then Voodoo can bring him back.” Jess stated.
“Listen, Mrs. Novak, I need to be honest with you. When Jake told me about your son’s condition, I begged him to take me over here. I think I can heal him,” Lucien announced with the utmost sincerity.
“Heal him with Voodoo? Absolutely not! That’s blasphemy! His soul belongs to Christ!” she ranted.
“And Christ may already have it! But at least let me…” Lucien insisted.
“So now you think he’s dead. I’m sorry you came here. You need to leave.” Jessica stood up and gestured him toward the door.
“Please, Mrs. Novak. One potion and one prayer and then I’m gone. What do you have to lose?” Lucien pleaded.
Something within his eyes set off every alarm within her body. “You’re insane! Stay away from him, from all of us! Get out of my house!”
But Lucien wasn’t leaving. Instead, he fell to his knees and chanted something in an unknown dialect. He took a clay bottle out of his pocket and placed it in Henry’s
hand. Without having to bring it to his lips, Henry raised the bottle and drank. His eyes flashed for only for a fraction of a second, but she panicked.
“Finish drinking it, Henry.” Lucien’s hazel eyes swirled into a luminescent emerald green. Henry finished whatever was inside the bottle and stared blankly at the floor.
“I said get out!” Jessica lunged at him from across the kitchen table. Tea cups and plates crashed onto the ceramic floor in thousands of pieces. Lucien sprung up from his knees and backed away from her.
“I will go now, in peace. I only want what you want. And that is to get Henry back. I was just trying to help. May your God be with you,” Lucien said as he and Jake exited the front door. As Jessica watched them get into Jake’s car, she could have sworn she’d seen Lucien take out some kind of dark, powdery matter and sprinkle it all over the walkway of the house. He moved with the speed and grace of someone less than half of his age. When she first met him the boys had to steady him out of his chair. Once they pulled away, she rushed outside. Nothing.
Maybe my mind is playing tricks on me. I’m losing it. A quack using my kid as a guinea pig and a Voodoo witch doctor trying to heal him. Too much, Lord.
Through the window, she watched Henry. He hadn’t moved from the kitchen chair and was still staring at the floor.