Read Unsympathetic Magic Online
Authors: Laura Resnick
Unsympathetic Magic (37 page)
I didn’t understand the words, but the meaning was clear enough. I shoved the bottle aside and, hoping to snap him out of it, slapped him sharply across the face.
He laughed again and let me go. Startled, I staggered sideways into Jeff, whose arms prevented me from falling down. Clutching me, Jeff sneezed in response to my peppery aura, then shoved me away.
“Well, you certainly took charge of
that
situation,” he said. “So what’s the next part of your brilliant plan to bring him to his senses?”
that
situation,” he said. “So what’s the next part of your brilliant plan to bring him to his senses?”
“Max?” I said sharply.
“I’m thinking, I’m thinking.”
“Think faster!”
“This problem is somewhat outside my experience,” the mage said apologetically.
Lopez was dancing with a couple of young women now, swaying and writhing cheerfully with them. Ogoun was quite a flirt.
All around us, people were clapping rhythmically, singing, dancing, and smiling. Several people were moving wildly, perhaps in the throes of spirit possession themselves.
“New plan!” I said to my companions. “Max, you distract the mambo. Jeff, you get a bucket of cold water.”
“We’re going to throw cold water on him?” Jeff said. “
That’s
your plan?”
That’s
your plan?”
“Anyone with a better idea is welcome to make a suggestion!” I snapped.
“Step back!” Max warned.
He shoved the two of us away from the brazier as Lopez returned to it and reached into its red- hot contents with both hands. He scooped up a pile of glowing coals and washed them sensually over his chest and arms, eyes closed in apparent ecstasy. His skin remained unharmed, though I noticed the falling coals left behind some nasty burn marks on his khaki trousers. Even dry cleaning wouldn’t save those pants after this escapade.
“A bucket of water, Jeff!
Now,
” I said. “Let’s not wait until he sets the building on fire, huh?”
Now,
” I said. “Let’s not wait until he sets the building on fire, huh?”
“Right. Okay. I’ll go get—Whoa! What now?”
Lopez staggered backward, moving with sudden awkwardness. Then he stood still, swaying dizzily.
“Is he okay?” Jeff asked.
“Lopez?” I said, stepping toward him.
Looking as if he suddenly found it difficult just to remain on his feet, he put a hand up to his forehead and squeezed his eyes shut. He made an inarticulate sound, then shook his head a few times, as if trying to clear it.
I put my hand on his shoulder. “Lopez? Can you hear me?”
He collapsed like a marionette whose strings had just been cut. One moment, he was swaying dizzily; the next, he was lying at my feet, head thrown back, eyes closed, body inert.
Lopez lay unconscious on the floor of the hounfour, sprawled out atop the remnants of the vévé of Ogoun that Mambo Celeste had drawn there.
“No! Don’t put him down
here
,” I said to Jeff as he, Max, and I carried Lopez’s unconscious body into my apartment. “Let’s put him on the bed.”
here
,” I said to Jeff as he, Max, and I carried Lopez’s unconscious body into my apartment. “Let’s put him on the bed.”
Max was wheezing from the effort of carrying Lopez up my stairs. He and I each held one leg while Jeff, walking backward, carried the weight of Lopez’s torso and shoulders.
“Give me a minute,” Jeff said, still trying to put down the limp body. “I’ve got the heavy part.”
“Oh, come on.” My back was starting to hurt. “It’s just a few more feet. Keep moving.”
Max said to me, “The detective is heavier than he looks, isn’t he?”
“You’re just tired,” I said.
We’d had to carry Lopez out of the hounfour, up the stairs, and out of the foundation, and
then
we’d had to carry him down the street until we reached an avenue where we could hail a cab. Stuffing him into the backseat of the taxi had been no easy feat, either; he didn’t bend and fold that easily when he was unconscious. And I thought I had strained something when pulling him back
out
of the cab upon arrival at my apartment a few minutes ago.
then
we’d had to carry him down the street until we reached an avenue where we could hail a cab. Stuffing him into the backseat of the taxi had been no easy feat, either; he didn’t bend and fold that easily when he was unconscious. And I thought I had strained something when pulling him back
out
of the cab upon arrival at my apartment a few minutes ago.
“No, this guy
is
heavier than he looks.” Jeff shifted Lopez’s weight in his arms, trying to get a better grip on the limp detective, then started backing toward my bedroom. “Good muscle development. Does he have a personal trainer?”
is
heavier than he looks.” Jeff shifted Lopez’s weight in his arms, trying to get a better grip on the limp detective, then started backing toward my bedroom. “Good muscle development. Does he have a personal trainer?”
“Hey! Careful with his—” I winced as Lopez’s skull thudded against the doorjamb of my bedroom. “Head.”
“Oops.” Jeff said, “Good thing he’s already unconscious.”
“Yes,” I said tersely. “Everyone knows that a head injury doesn’t really
count
unless you’re awake for it.”
count
unless you’re awake for it.”
Max and I shuffled forward awkwardly as the three of us maneuvered the body through the doorway. Lopez’s left arm stuck out at an angle that prevented entry. I reached over to nudge it through the door. As a result, I dropped his leg, unable to retain my hold on it with just one hand. My gris-gris pouch bounced against my chest, making my eyes water.
“Goddamn it!” I said. “Where the hell is Biko?” The young athlete’s strength would certainly have been useful in this endeavor, but we hadn’t seen him since our meeting in the training room.
“And what happened to Puma?” Jeff added as he and Max hauled Lopez to the bed and, with one last burst of effort, dumped him onto it. “I didn’t see her at all at the ritual, and she’s the only reason I went! We sure could’ve used her help. She probably has some idea what to do with someone who’s become a shovel.”
“Cheval,” Max wheezed, sitting down on the bed to catch his breath.
“Whatever.”
I glanced at Max with concern as I climbed onto the bed beside Lopez and started trying to arrange him more comfortably. “Jeff, get him a glass of water.”
“The boy just drank about a gallon of rum.” Jeff eyed Lopez. “Do you really think he needs
more
liquids inside him when he’s in no condition to use a toilet?”
more
liquids inside him when he’s in no condition to use a toilet?”
I said, “A glass of water for
Max
.”
Max
.”
“Oh! Okay.” Jeff left the room and went to the kitchen.
“I’m still really worried about alcohol poisoning,” I said to Max as I looked down at Lopez’s peaceful face.
I put my head against his chest and listened. His breathing and heartbeat were steady and even. The temperature of his skin felt normal. He didn’t seem to be in any physical distress. But he smelled like a distillery and was dead to the world.
After his collapse, I had realized we would have a hard enough time explaining Lopez’s unconscious condition to a cab driver without also having to explain why he was half- naked; so I had found his shirt and, with Jeff’s help, wrestled him back into it. I unbuttoned the garment now and pushed it aside, so that I could examine his torso and confirm under calmer circumstances that he had not suffered any burns or injuries during his bizarre experience at the Vodou ceremony—where celebrants had assured me with reverence and good cheer, as he lay unconscious on the floor, that what had just happened to him was a
good
thing.
good
thing.
Lying on my bed now, motionless but breathing evenly, his body was smooth and warm. There was a light dusting of black hair across his chest and a thin, faded scar on his stomach—possibly from an appendectomy.
“No burn marks,” I said, torn between relief and amazement. “Nothing.”
“I believe it is likely that the alcohol he consumed will also have no ill effects,” Max said soothingly. “Ah! Thank you, Jeffrey!” He accepted the glass of water that Jeff carried into the bedroom.
“I just turned on the AC,” said Jeff. “Hope that’s okay.”
“Sure,” I said absently, realizing it was stuffy in here. I turned off the air-conditioning whenever I went out. I couldn’t afford to waste money cooling an empty apartment. “Take off his shoes.”
Jeff shot me resentful look, then knelt down and wrestled with a surprised Max for possession of his foot.
“No, I meant Lopez’s shoes,” I said with forced patience. “We need to make him comfortable. I don’t know how long he’ll be like this.”
“Oh! Right.” Jeff sat down on the other side of the bed and tugged off Lopez’s sandals, which he tossed on the floor.
We had initially argued about where to take our unconscious companion. Scared to death by his oblivious condition, as well as by having just watched him consume a shockingly large quantity of rum, I’d wanted to go straight to a hospital. But Max had thought it unnecessary, and Jeff had considered it a terrible idea.
“A cop turns up in the ER unconscious and floating in booze?” Jeff had said. “When he wakes up there, how’s he going to explain his condition to the staff
or
to the NYPD?”
or
to the NYPD?”
I didn’t want to inflict a professionally damaging situation on Lopez, or possibly even a career-ending one. So, hoping that it was the right decision, I had chosen to bring him here, where I could keep an eye on him while he slept it off.
I leaned over him now and stroked his dark hair away from his forehead. Gazing down at him, I prayed that Max was right and he didn’t need medical attention.
“How did this happen to him?” I wondered aloud.
“Yeah, what gives?” Jeff said. “One minute, he was being a cop. The next, he was playing with fire. Weird.”
“Spirit possession often occurs very quickly,” Max said. “It just usually involves much more preparation—dancing or worship or meditation.”
“He wasn’t preparing at
all,
” I pointed out.
all,
” I pointed out.
“Preparation is simply a way of
inviting
the spirit to possess the worshipper,” Max said. “It does not necessarily follow that possession will occur. Nor does it mean a spirit cannot choose to possess one who hasn’t actually invited it.”
inviting
the spirit to possess the worshipper,” Max said. “It does not necessarily follow that possession will occur. Nor does it mean a spirit cannot choose to possess one who hasn’t actually invited it.”
Jeff said, “I guess if you’re a spirit, you get to do what you want, huh?”
“Within reason,” Max said. “Preparing for possession creates favorable conditions for the spirit to manifest. It is an offer to surrender the self and relinquish conscious control.” He thought it over for a moment. “The detective was close to the brazier when the mambo threw more gunpowder into it. The resulting explosion seemed to disorient him for a moment, and that evidently created—albeit involuntarily—the surrender of self that invited the loa to take control of him.”
“The mambo . . .” I shifted my weight, trying to get into a more comfortable position as I knelt beside our unconscious companion. My gris-gris backed bounced a little. Lopez’s slack facial muscles suddenly quivered. He made a little snuffling sound and turned his head away from me.
My heart leaped. “Lopez?”
He was silent and still again.
Jeff said, “I think that thing around your neck irritated him. What
is
it, anyhow?”
is
it, anyhow?”
I felt a rush of relief. “So he’s responsive!”
“Well, not so responsive to getting his head bashed against the doorjamb,” Jeff said. “But, yeah. I would say his senses are starting to function again.”
I returned to stroking Lopez’s hair. He made a brief, faint sound of contentment.
Jeff added, “
All
his senses, I guess.”
All
his senses, I guess.”
“You see?” Max smiled reassuringly at me. “To be mounted by a Rada loa can be quite draining, but it’s not meant to be harmful. The Rada are benevolent spirits.”
I expressed the dreadful fear welling up inside me. “Max, do you think Mambo Celeste did this to Lopez deliberately?”
“No, my dear, I don’t. She opened the gateway to the spirit world, but she does not control the Rada. No one does. And although I realize tonight’s events were alarming for you, they were nonetheless a very positive sign in the context of Vodou beliefs. The community has been given evidence that Ogoun is watching over them.” Max added gently, “He is a warrior and a protector. A fitting match for Detective Lopez.”
“He struck
me
as a letch and a drunkard,” I said.
me
as a letch and a drunkard,” I said.
“The loa have robust appetites,” Max said tactfully. ”They enjoy indulging in physical sensation when they manifest.”
Jeff added judiciously, “Pretty athletic, too.”
Max gazed at Lopez with a thoughtful expression. “Even so, despite the obviously compatible pairing of Ogoun with our companion, I find it puzzling . . .” He shook his head slightly. “No,
intriguing
. I find it intriguing that an outsider was chosen by the loa for such an honor tonight. A stranger. A nonbeliever. That is most unusual.”
intriguing
. I find it intriguing that an outsider was chosen by the loa for such an honor tonight. A stranger. A nonbeliever. That is most unusual.”
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