Her eyes caught a bottle of spirits near his bedroom altar, which she moved towards.
“Don’t—” He stopped her. “Those are for the spirits. There is rum to drink in the kitchen.”
She nodded. “Alright then.”
Anubis sighed, peeking out from behind the woven straw mat that separated his room from the hall, grateful his fellow priests were sound asleep. He motioned for her to follow him into their main eating room, a simple space with a low table and several cabinets that held cooking pots. He reached up to retrieve a bottle that was hidden on the top of them.
“So is that how you worship?” she asked him. “With gifts of rum?”
“It is one way,” he said as he motioned for her to follow him back to his room. “Our religion is layered, one that has evolved over time.”
He lifted the mat so she could enter first, letting it fall back behind him. Then he sat down on the floor, pouring the rum into a cup as her eyes swept across the room. He wondered for a moment what she thought of the various fetishes that covered his shrine, wondering if she could see the splatters of dried blood in the lamplight. She did not comment however, folding herself down across from him on the floor. He handed her the cup. “Now will you tell me what you are doing here?” he asked.
She took a sip, appearing to enjoy the taste. She didn’t reply, studying him instead. “I have never seen a man with black skin and blue eyes.”
“I have never seen a woman half-white, half-crimson,” he retorted, then immediately wished he hadn’t.
She didn’t seem offended, lifting her arm as if to re-examine the dark splotches with a sigh. “The reason my father cannot find anyone to marry me.”
“I shouldn’t have said that, I’m sorry,” Anubis muttered, embarrassed.
“I wouldn’t treat me any differently,” she shrugged, finishing her rum and motioning for him to refill her cup. “My father has come to exploit your people. We are your enemy, no matter what they pretend.”
Anubis looked at her in surprise.
“The only good thing my father has ever done for me is allow me to be educated,” she said, annoyed by his hesitation and grabbing the bottle for herself. “My tutor was born of a rich white father who also saw fit to educate his bastard son before he cast him off into the world. Fortunately, his African mother taught him the language and ways of her people, which he passed on to me. Over time, he has become my closest friend, the two of us sneaking away to listen to the abolitionists in the salons and learning about the atrocities of slave labor. I cannot tell you how many times I have funneled money out of my fathers’ own pockets to give to their cause or to help freed slaves get established in society.”
For the first time in a very long time, Anubis was speechless.
“Anyway,” she said as she set the bottle down. “He eventually wants to meet you since he believes you are also on the side of liberation. But that is not why I am here.” She started to move in closer to him. “I am here for purely selfish reasons.” And before he could react, she was kissing him.
He broke away, jolted by her actions. “This is not right.”
She smiled at him, the lamplight dancing in the darks of her eyes. For the first time, he noticed the corner of her left one was streaked with the same crimson stain as her scars. “I do not want anything from you,” she told him in a soft voice. “I do not need a child, nor a husband, nor anything that women might require from this sort of thing. I just want you to touch me the way that you look at me.”
Anubis took her face and kissed her, feeling her instantly respond by straddling him around her skirts. He had no real time for logical thought, swept up in the thrall of her rum soaked mouth and the sweetness of her hair as she grinded her body against him. It was only after they had finished, when they both lay naked and panting in the dirt, striped with shadows of lamplight that he sat up and stared at her. “I know you from somewhere,” he said, confused by the sudden realization.
“You do?” she murmured sleepily, in no rush to get up from where she lay.
He pulled on his clothes and went to the shrine in his room, bringing its statues to life with the candles surrounding them. He heard her inhale with amazement as she rose to a seated position, pulling on her nightdress.
He could already feel the air thickening with spirits, the candle flames growing higher and flickering, throwing ghastly shapes at the walls.
He felt her edge closer to him, whispering, “You’re not going to sacrifice me, are you?”
“No,” he mumbled, beginning to grow lightheaded as his power rose. “But you must stay still no matter what you see.”
She nodded solemnly, her wide eyes the last thing he saw before he entered his trance. He hoped she wouldn’t flee, for the spirits might be able to see through her, but he had watched plenty of rituals in his youth and to witness one often proved too intense for the casual observer.
He didn’t have much time to wonder, for soon he was in his hall, the long shadowy corridor made of stone walls that stretched to the ceiling. The spirits had already gathered, an old man with a crutch waiting patiently near the three doors at the end, another with a face neither man nor woman, holding a snake around his shoulders, and a crouching jackal who greeted him with cold black eyes. “Where do I know her from?”
“He’s not ready,” ejected the hostile old man in the corner.
“What am I not ready for?” he demanded. He could hear a whistling sound in the chamber, as though a cold wind had suddenly blown in and gotten trapped, swirling around him as he stood. The jackal beckoned him closer, letting him know it was something from his distant past, something he was just beginning to tap into.
“He’s not ready,” the old man repeated.
But the jackal still approached, staring at him until he bowed down to its level, staring it right in the eye.
“No,” the old man’s eyes blazed red with fury, shoving him away from the jackal and out of the spirit world.
His eyes snapped open back in his room, his vision focusing to see Helena staring at him from behind her knees. “Are you back?” she whispered.
“Yes,” he sighed, realizing Legba had shoved him flat onto the ground. He sat up to observe the candles were low, fat pools of wax collected around them. Legba hadn’t ousted him fast enough—Helena was a reincarnated goddess.
“What did you see?” she asked him carefully.
“Can I meet your friend tonight?” he asked, avoiding the question and rising to his feet.
“You mean to sneak into the French compound?” she said in surprise, though an intrigued grin crept across her face. “I can show you in the way I snuck out, but it’s almost daylight. We have an hour at most before the village rises.”
“It won’t take long,” Anubis promised her.
They artfully maneuvered their way out of the convent without arousing suspicion, hurrying past the church of snakes, down into the slumbering village. Beyond the shacks and huts were the palace high walls, the soldiers who kept guard at night already headed inwards as their shift ended. Anubis knew they only had a few moments before the day guards arrived. Helena led him to the newly established French end and once they hopped the wall, she pointed to her window. She lifted herself up easily, climbing through and landing with a soft grunt. He hoisted himself up to follow, landing in a room that was surprisingly clean and well-maintained for the short amount of time she’d been there.
They were both surprised to see her tutor already awaiting them, sitting patiently on the bed. It was the interpreter from before. He closed the book he was reading, removing his glasses to reveal kind brown eyes. “Hello, Anubis. Did you finally figure out that we are gods?”
A crack of thunder broke through his thoughts. He noticed Mama had left his side and he rose from his spot on the beach. Heat lightning cut through the agitated charcoal clouds, throwing flashes of light down on a group of figures walking up the shore. He squinted in confusion before realizing who they were. He hurried towards them as an uncharacteristic nervousness gripped him. In moments he would be meeting his true family, the ones who were tied to him since the dawn of time. The thought of it suddenly seemed overwhelming, his mind already unsettled by his vision.
