LITMIR.BIZ

Скачать книгу

the excess water off the remaining herbs and dries her hands on her apron.

      “Why did you have me read that?”

      Mama looks into my eyes, searching for the right words to say what she doesn’t want to. The fear in her eyes is all the validation I need: Misty’s trying to make me a zombie. Oh hell, no, this can’t be happening to me. I’ve got AP exams in a few months, not to mention all the money I’m missing out on by not working. I don’t have time to be someone’s personal pushpin doll.

      “Jayd, I don’t want to scare you, but you should know the truth. Esmeralda is trying to make you a zombie of sorts. She really just wants to control your dream state, therefore controlling your powers and stealing another one of my girls’ sight. And we’re not having that.” I hear Mama on that one. Williams women don’t go out like that—ever.

      Cortez tried to take Califia’s power, but her lineage still lives on through us. Maman lives on in my dreams and she’s like Wonder Woman with her shit. Mama’s, well, Mama. And my mom reclaimed her powers through mine. Now it’s up to me to keep my ancestors’ legacy alive and in our hands; not Esmeralda’s, or Misty’s either, for that matter. That trick has yet again picked the wrong clique to join.

      “No, we’re not. What do we need to do?” I ask. Mama cracks a slight smile at my enthusiasm to jump back in the ring after I was just down for the count. The sooner I get Misty off my back the better.

      “Well, it seems that Maman is the ancestor fighting for you this time around. In both of your sleepwalking incidents she was trying to get you out of harm’s way, and exiting through a door was the way you both got into and out of trouble. Transition has to be dealt with, and we need to go to the ancestors for that. They’ll tell us what to do next.”

      “Well, that explains a lot.” Maman is my joto, or sponsoring ancestor, in my lineage. Every baby born has an elder who made transition before his or her birth, and that ancestor is like a guardian angel for the baby’s lifetime. “Why do I need to keep taking these horse pills?” I ask as she hands me a tall glass of water to back them. “They don’t seem to be working at all. I’m still not dreaming like I usually do.”

      “On the contrary, Jayd,” Mama says, taking possession of the spirit book and the tall bottle of gin before rising from her seat to kneel before the small ancestor shrine. Lighting the white candles, she directs me to kneel beside her at the altar. “Your powers are growing stronger by the day. To fight off Iku, your powers will have to be as strong as they can become before your formal initiation.”

      “Iku. Did you say what I think you just said?” Mama looks at me and then up at the luminescent white altar. There are pictures of all the women in our family who’ve made the transition to the ancestor world with the inevitable help of Iku, or death, in Yoruba. He’s not someone you want walking with you until it’s definitely your time to leave this world as we know it.

      “Don’t worry about that now, baby,” Mama says, patting my hand like she would when as a child I’d go to the doctor to get a shot. She’d tell me not to worry about the pain when I’d ask her if it was going to hurt. “Just focus on channeling Maman’s strength and gift of sight through your dreams. That is, after all, the pinnacle of your powers once you reach them.”

      “But, did you just say that basically Esmeralda is trying to kill me and literally make me her zombie?” Mama looks at me and smiles at my simplification of a very serious process. From what I read, people usually get caught up in zombie world by crossing over a threshold where there’s a poisonous powder laid down for the victim to unknowingly step on. This powder works quickly once it comes into contact with the skin, causing the victim’s heart to stop and their body to be taken over.

      “Yes, but only in your sleep. Don’t worry, we’ll fix her.” Mama sounds very sure—but me, not so much. I was just blind for twenty-four hours and that was a little too close for my comfort.

      “Mama, I don’t want to die in any way, shape, or form. Besides, if I die in my sleep doesn’t that mean I’m dead in real life, too?” I remember Mama telling me when I was a little girl to wake up, every time I had this one recurring dream of falling off of a tall building. Mama would wake me up right before my head hit the pavement, warning me that if I didn’t, I would never see daylight again. From then on when I’d have that dream, I’d wake up at a certain point with Mama’s help.

      “There are different types of deaths, Jayd. Not all of them are tragic and not all are fair. But they all have one thing in common: they signify the end of one thing and the beginning of another. Sometimes it’s new and sometimes it’s old. I hope you don’t have to repeat the mistakes of our collective past. But if you do, it just means that it’s meant for you to learn your lesson in that way. In a lineage, you could have karmaic debts owed in past lives or the lives of your ancestors. It’s interesting to me how a lot of the mistakes Maman made, I also made, and still may be destined to make. And you and your mama may be, too.”

      “This isn’t making me feel any better.” Mama opens the bottle of gin and takes a glass of water off of the shrine.

      “What do you want me to say, Jayd? Yes, in most instances when you die in your dreams you die in this life, too. That’s why it’s vital that you learn how to control your dreams. Embrace your power, Jayd, and let your ancestors help you use them. Learn from their mistakes, as a witness rather than as a participant; and, more importantly, master the art of waking up.”

      We pour the libation to the ancestors, first giving them cold water and then gin while calling all the names in our lineage. We are going to need the collective power of our ashe to beat Esmeralda’s evil ass, and we’ve got the strength and wisdom to get the job done right. After our worship, we talk about Tre’s service and my taboos in dealing with Iku. Mama warns me to be careful of being around too much wailing and gossiping, because that could be a form of Iku and I need to stay as far away from death as possible while Esmeralda’s curse is in effect. She also advises me to honor the ancestors at the ceremony, especially those in our lineage.

      “Jayd, when your grandfather asks if anyone else would like to say a prayer on Tre’s behalf, I need for you to speak for the ancestors. Pour the libation for Tre, just like we do to our ancestors, no matter what anyone says.” Damn, why do I always have to be the one to stick out?

      “Yes, ma’am. I need to get dressed now if we’re finished,” I say, following Mama’s eyes to the clock on the wall. We’ve been in here for over two hours and a sistah’s got to eat before I get going. I also need to pack to go to my mom’s this weekend.

      “Yes, go ahead. And remember to wear mostly white, Jayd. Tell Rah I said thank you for taking care of you, too.” I’m glad at least one of my homies is hanging with me again. I know the entire neighborhood and my former crew will be out today, Misty included. It’s been nice not seeing the haters at school for the past two days, but hopefully they won’t make up for lost time this afternoon. All I can hope for is a peaceful going home for Tre, and for Misty to stay as far away from me as possible.

      When Rah and I arrive, the church is packed with friends, family, and others, here to say their good-byes. I was a little nervous about Rah being singled out for shooting back at Mickey’s man, whose bullet ended Tre’s life and got caught in Nigel’s shoulder. But since he wasn’t the one who killed Tre, no one’s really tripping off of Rah right now. Tre’s body is still being autopsied to help with the case against Mickey’s man, and then will be cremated, per his sisters’ wishes. I feel bad for Brandy and her unborn baby, who’ll never get to know its uncle. She and Tre were so close, unlike their older sister, who looks like she’s ready to go.

      “Where do you want to sit?” Rah asks, eyeing the pews in the quaint church. Most of the crowd is hanging outside, waiting for the service to begin.

      “This is fine.” We make our way into one of the pews closest to the front. My grandfather winks at me from the pulpit, where he and the other ministers are seated, waiting for the choir to begin. I love watching my grandfather preach because he’s so enthusiastic when he talks about his faith.

Скачать книгу