Birth of a Dark Nation (33 page)

Dominique jabbed her knife into Carmen's eye
socket as far as it would go. Too quick for Carmen to even scream.
A sickening gasp and gurgle emitted from her throat.

"Dinner is served, my brothers," Dominique
said. She stood up and walked briskly to the house, wiping her
knife off on the front of her nun's habit while the rest of us
feasted on the brain-dead body of Carmen until she expired.

A week later, Dominique, too, was dead. Her
death was peaceful, silent, and expected by all of us.

.

My darling Razadi brothers, as you see by my cold
body in this bed, the bed I shared with my husband Ariori, I have
departed this earthly realm. My life, without my beloved, is not a
life at all, much less one worth living. You have remained strong
for me in my hour of bereavement. I have noticed that you have
barely grieved yourself. I know that the love I felt for my husband
was special, but you knew him first and you knew him longest. By my
passing, you no longer have to worry about protecting me. He is
protecting me now, always and forever, in whatever afterlife there
may be.

.

Free yourselves to grieve for your brother, but do
not grieve for me, for I am happy as long as I am with him.

.

In my hands are gifts for you.

In my right hand is the ritual for Iota Theta Beta,
the sorority that I had been working so hard at creating for all of
these months. These women have been my sisters as you have been my
brothers. They have protected me and accepted me. And it is only
fitting that I give them to you, from this day forward. So long as
there is blood in the sisters of Iota Theta Beta, so shall you and
your people always have life. Do not try to decode the ceremonies.
Just know that the four notes, when played or whistled, will be the
gateway to whatever you need from my sisters, today and for all the
days of your life.

.

In my left hand is a list of the names and addresses
of each of the men responsible for the death of Ariori. I know that
your first inclination is to mete out swift and decisive vengeance.
But as you gather them and decide their collective fate, I just
have one final wish:

.

Make them suffer.

In the blood,

Dominique Rabaut Forestier

.

"And that was the suicide note of our sister
Dominique. The women whose husband you all killed."

Babarinde addressed the conspirators as they
hung on the wooden poles erected for them in our back yard. We cut
a dozen trees down from a small forest on our property and piled
them into a semi-circle in the ground. One by one, we nailed the
criminals' hands to the tops of the poles.

All of them screamed and tried to escape as
we pounded the ten-inch nails through them. They couldn't
understand how we found them, how we stealthily stole them from
their own homes in the middle of the night, how we overpowered
them, even now. The look of anger and confusion in their faces only
made us taunt them more.

Try to escape. Go on. Run. Let's see how far
you can get before I catch you. Five feet? Ten feet? No, white man.
I will always beat you. Now, be tacked to this log, and watch my
black face as you die.

There will be no knives, white man. No
swords. No guns. No weapons other than my hands, my feet, and my
teeth.

This is for my brother, Ariori, who you
killed just because you were asked. Ariori was somebody. He was our
friend. He was our brother. He was somebody's husband, you
cocksuckers.

This is for Dominique, who lived two
lifetimes for Ariori. This is for her, the innocent victim who
couldn't help who she loved across time and space.

This is for the slaves of the German Coast
who died because they dared to fight for their freedom. This is for
Rebekah Deslondes, whose arm you took to spite her. This is for
Charles Deslondes, whose body you mangled because he led his
people. This is for Mercredi, Babe, Amos, and all the other slaves
that you wiped off the rolls of history.

This is for the millions of enslaved Africans
in America. This is for their heirs.

This is for the indigenous people that you
displaced.

This is for the dozens and dozens of Razadi
who lay dead at the bottom of the Atlantic Ocean, spared from the
atrocities of life in the Americas.

This is for the first dozen Razadi who died
from insidious weapons we'd never even imagined.

This is for Africa, whom you raped and
pillaged.

This is for our scrolls, stolen to parts
unknown.

This is for our families that we will never
see again.

Take this hate, white men, young and old.
Take these scratches from my fingers. Bleed for me.

Take these bites. Bleed for me. I won't give
you the satisfaction of dying. I will watch the mosquitoes and
flies feast on your blood just as I do, just like the animal you
believe me to be.

I do this for Dominique.

I do this for Ariori.

I do this for my people.

I feed off your terror.

I feed off your blood.

Die for me.

I gasped deeply and released Justin as he
regained consciousness on the floor of the gym. It was now almost
dawn.

"Are you okay?" I asked. He slowly
nodded.

"What about you?" he asked.

"I'm fine."

"I'm sorry that you lost Ariori. And
Dominique."

"Olódùmarè has them now. There's no doubt of
that."

Justin embraced me hard. The tears silently
streamed from his face and onto my neck. We remembered a lifetime
of death and pain, punctuated by twelve mangled white corpses, bled
dry and baking in the Louisiana sun.

Victor had acquired a luxury SUV from some
place or another and we drove it to Hamilton, New York—Justin's
hometown—for Thanksgiving. I drove the truck until about the middle
of Pennsylvania and switched with Justin the rest of the way.
Victor, as usual, slept in the back seat.

"You drive pretty good," I said.

"Thanks," he said. "I had better. Wasn't
nothing to do in Hamilton except sneak into college parties. You
had to learn how to drive to get away from there."

"How did y'all end up in Hamilton?" I
asked.

"Whatchu mean? We always been from
there."

"Well, not always. At some point y'all were
from Africa."

"Duh. I'm just saying we've been from
Hamilton for as long as I could remember. My dad researched it one
time and found out all that stuff. It's a small town but it's
always had some sort of black presence."

"Interesting," I said. "So…would you change
anything?"

"About Hamilton? Naw, it's straight. Just
don't want to live there."

"I mean about us. About your transition."

"Oh. That."

"I mean, what you saw…our revenge on the
Knights…"

"I don't want to talk about that," Justin
said. He shifted in his seat as he drove but never let his
attention wander from the road."

"It's just that-"

"It is what it is. You did what you did and
it's over. If I had the powers you all had, I might have done the
same."

"Okay," I said.

"You know, you don't have to be ashamed of
what you went through."

"I know. It's hard, though. A lot of time has
passed, but it all feels like yesterday."

"I can imagine."

"So knowing everything you know now, you're
still cool. We're still cool?"

"Yes! We're good, Dante. Really, we are. This
life chose me, but still, I am choosing this life. I am choosing
you. Before you, before the Razadi, what did I have? Wake up, go to
work, come home. Eat too much, drink too much, and sometimes fuck
too much. But you guys brought a lot to my life. I've got
friendships. I've got confidence. I've got power. I've got an
entirely different outlook. So, would I change anything? Absolutely
not. Because if I changed anything, I wouldn't have you."

I grinned and touched his free hand as he
drove.

A few hours later, we were nearly there.

"Bonney Hill Road, here we are!" Justin
announced. "Wake up, Victor, we're home!"

Victor stirred in the backseat and sat up. He
rubbed his eyes and sniffed.

"Cute neighborhood," he sighed. We looked out
at the big houses dotting the wooded street.

"Thanks!" Justin said. "We're almost at my
parent's house."

I hadn't met anyone's parents in years, much
less the parents of someone I was dating. I got nervous but
immediately calmed myself down by realizing how much more anxious
Justin must have been to see his family post-transformation.

We rolled up the long driveway with slim,
bare trees lining it. There were still a few red and orange leaves
dotting the grass, but they had largely been raked up already.

"Tudor house?" I asked, noticing the steep
gabled roofs, contrasting brown and beige panels, and rounded
windows. "Yup. Growing up? Felt like a mansion in the forest. Now
it looks smaller and smaller very time I come home."

Justin parked the car on the grass next to a
long line of other vehicles. We were likely the last of the family
to arrive.

"Y'all ready?" Justin asked, as he put the
car keys in his pocket.

"Yup!" I responded enthusiastically.

"And Victor, I trust you'll be on your best
behavior?" Justin asked sarcastically.

Victor bared his fangs and hissed in
response.

"I'd expect nothing less," he laughed. "Just
try not to bite my family, okay?"

Justin walked up the steps to his parents'
front door and rang the bell. I could hear footsteps approaching
the door. It swung open slowly.

"Hey baby!"

"Hey mama!"

Mrs. Kena was a petite woman in her late
sixties with a short, natural hairstyle and bifocal glasses. Justin
and his mother embraced tightly.

"Come on in, it's cold out there!"

"Ma, this is Dante. And this is Dante's
cousin, Victor."

"Nice to meet you ma'am," Dante said.

"Hello Mrs. Kena," Victor said. My mom hugged
them both and took their coats. I took mine off.

"Justin! You…you're skinny!"

"I am not skinny! Just toned up!"

"I don't think you've ever been this built!
What have you been doing?" Her stare was one of both amazement and
suspicion.

"Just working out, ma. Running. Eating right.
You know, all that."

"Well, we already started eating," Mrs. Kena
said. "Y'all were running so late, we couldn't wait anymore."

"I understand, ma. Where's dad?"

"Downstairs eating and watching the game with
the rest of them. Help yourselves! We've got turkey, ham, greens,
string beans, macaroni and cheese, stuffing, cranberry sauce,
rolls, and iced tea!"

"Excellent!"

We stayed close by Justin as he made his way
around the house, saying hello to his siblings, nieces, nephews,
uncles, aunts, and cousins. The kids loved them some Uncle Justin.
Each of them ran to him and showered him with hugs, latching on to
his legs like little barnacles. He could barely walk from all the
kids climbing on him.

He hugged his siblings, but I noticed there
was a lack of warmth there. I already knew that Justin went home
sparingly, so maybe his siblings had some resentment because he
wasn't around much.

The house was beautiful. It was just as
spacious as the outside suggested, with high ceilings, especially
in the living room area. We walked downstairs into the finished
basement to see a huge spread of food set up. Apparently, this
house had an entire second kitchen just for these large events.

We met Justin's dad down there, a tall, dark
and somewhat brooding man in his early seventies. His easy chair
had a slight lean to the side as he watched the game.

"Hey dad," Justin said.

"Hello there," Mr. Kena said. His tumbler of
whisky was nearby.

"How you doin'?" Justin asked.

"Same old, same old. How you? These your
friends?"

"I'm good. This is Dante and Victor."

Mr. Kena looked at us up and down.

"'Sup?" he asked.

We smiled and extended our hands to him, only
to be confronted with dap rather than a handshake.

"I'm still hip, ya little niggas," Mr. Kena
laughed. We laughed along with him.

"Let's eat," Justin said. We walked back over
to the serving area and got our paper plates. Victor and I loaded
ours up with collard greens, string beans, yams, and bread.

"No turkey? No ham?" Mrs. Kena asked.

"We're vegetarian." Dante said.

"Kind of." Victor added.

"Oh, well, I'm sorry, Justin didn't tell me
that! I would have made a casserole or something."

"Don't worry ma'am, you've got more than
enough to satisfy us. It looks delicious."

"Thank you!" She smiled and walked away.
Justin was loading his plate up with every kind of meat that was
available.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," Victor
whispered to Justin.

"What?" he asked.

"You're not going to be able to handle dead
meat."

"I've had turkey and ham all my life. I'll be
fine."

"Suit yourself," Victor said.

"Aye…go easy," I told Justin. "Small bites.
If it doesn't feel right, stop."

"I gotchu," he said.

We all sat down on a free sofa in the
basement as the family members moved about and resettled. Justin's
dad was definitely the king of the castle. He never had to get up
from his seat. Instead, his children and grandchildren catered to
him. They deferred to him much like my tribe deferred to Mama Abeo
and the rest of our elders.

Justin laughed, talked to his family, talked
to us, and laughed some more, all the while stuffing his face with
delicious Thanksgiving food.

Justin's sister Sarah approached us, an hour
or so later, cocktail in hand.