Dark Series, The Color of Seven and The Color of Dusk (Books We Love Special Edition) (24 page)

If a black person could be said to
look
pale, s
he
did
. Her skin looked lifeless.

“Ain’t been tendin’ my business,” she said.
“Sittin’ back her
e, restin’ on my haunches, forge
ttin’
dat
de
light got to be guarded.
I done let evil get a foothold here.”

“A bokor?”
asked Sadie.

“A what?” asked Paul
, certain he’d be told
to
‘
hu
sh up’ again, but
no.

“You ‘member what I said ‘
bout
de
worlds
dat
surround this one?”

He nodded.

“Well,
dose
worlds and
dis
one,
dey
have
dere
own spirits.
D
ey
be
de
Loa.”

“Sadie, you told me you believed in one
g
od.”

“An
’
I do.
All
de
goodness, the total of it, and all
de
sweet spirits,
de
sweet Loa
, dey be God’s.
But He’s got different parts, all the goodness put together.
An’
d
e devi
l,
de
way mos
t
folks see him, is all
de
badness put together.
But
de
dark and
de
light,
dey
both got
dere
own spirits.
An’
de
spirits of goodness be the spirits of the Rada.
An’
de
badness be
de
powers of
de
Dark, the Congo or the Petro,
de
bitter Loas.
Now, I tol’
you, folks what have
de
power can use ‘em either bad or good?”

Paul nodded.

“Folks whu
t use
dere
powers for the
de
dark, they be bokors.
An’ folk whu
t use
dere
powers for
de
light,
dey
be houngans if
dey
men, mambos if
dey
women.”

“Like Tamara.”

“Yes.”

“So whoever’s in town—”

“Is a bokor,” said Tamara.
“But not ‘xactly.”

”Whut you mean, ‘not ‘xactly’?” asked Sadie.

“I saw a man, a dark man.
He black as coal, but
dat
ain’t why he dark.
He big, one of
de
biggest I ever seen, an’
dats a gift from
de
dark s
ide, but he both more and less
den a bokor.”

“I
doan
un
derstand
.”

“I
doan
neither, yet, not ‘xactly.
But he ain’t a bokor ‘cause he choose to be.
Not one whut takes his power and sharpens it on purpose, devotin’ his life to studyin’ de bitter Loa.
He do know some of
de
rituals of power, and he use ‘em, but he
doan
understan’ ‘em.
He use ‘em lik’ a little chil
e
doan
know how to r
ead yet still can
say his
‘
a-b-c’s.”

“But if he
doan
know,
den where
de
power come from?”

“Doan
know.
He
doan
neither.
It jest be
dere.
Might be
de
stars set in jest de
right place when he born.
Or somethin’ else real powerful.
Might be a sebb
enth son of a se
bb
enth son hisself.
Or both.
Or neither one or somethin’ else.
But whut matters is, he
de
mo
st dangerous man I be
lieve I ever knowed about.
‘Cause he thinks he using
de
powers of darkness.
But really,
dey
usin’ him.
An’ he ain’t really doin’ all
de
things he think he is.
D
ey
lettin’ him do ‘em ‘cause
dey
know
s
he
doan know whut he doin’.
Ain’t goan hold back, and dey might can get control.
An’ he doan know ‘nuff to send ‘em back.”

“Who?” asked Paul
.
He
knew
, without pausing
for thought,
that nothing Sadie or Tamara sai
d was
a
direct contradiction of
Christian
ity. There exist
ed
a
h
eaven, a
h
ell, and earth.
And an all-powerful
God
who was
good
and a
Satan
who was
evil.
Sadie and Tamara
believed exactly that.
They just
broke
the
components down into further subparts.

“
De dark Loa.
D
ey
waitin’,
dey
hopin’, to send
dere
own dark angels out.”

Sadie’s comple
xion looked like dark parchment, almost lifeless.

“Can
you stop him?”

Tamara ran her tongue slowly around her dry lips.

“Sadie, I
doan
know!” she said.
“I jest doan know!”

Sadie moaned.
“My sweet Jesus!
Whut we
goan
do?
Whut can we do?”

“Let’s get back to town,” Paul said, rising suddenly.

“Why?”

“Because I need to talk to Bobby Ryles.”

“
De Chief of Po
lice?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Maybe this man’s been somewhere else before.
Maybe news of some strange happenings is beginning to come over the wires.
Maybe even news of some strange happenings here in town.
And we have to find Josh, get him straightened out.
He ought to be able to tell us something.”

“How we
goan
straighten Josh out?” Sadie aske
d, facing her greatest fear.

“
Hogtie him,
if we have to.
He ain’t going back out.
To wherever he goes.
”

“
Dat stuff, it be real pow
er
ful, Paul,” advised Tamara.
“Even when a body ain’t had none f
or a while, a long while, it can
kick up again and fill
dere
head up
wid sights.
Visions.
Some good.
And some
whut can
make
a body scream aloud and beg for
mercy.”

“Then the sooner he stops taking the stuff, the sooner we’ll know the damage.
Let’s get back to town, Sadie.”

Tamara hesitated.
She knew far more than she
’d
shared with her sister.
The gods, her powerful gods of l
ight, had spoken to her on the scent of flowers
filling
the room as she
conversed with her
veve.

“’Fo
re
you leave, Paul, might be you and me might wander down in the woods a spell.”

Sadie’s eyes
filled with alarm
.

“Tamara?
Why?”

“Oh, hu
sh up, Sadie.
First time I had a chance to meet yo’ boy,
doan
grudge me a few minutes a
lone
wid him
, now do you?”

Chapter
Twenty-Four

Tamara led him out into the woods
and
down a small path
. She s
topped at a carved wooden bench under a gigantic water oak.

“Le
t’
s us sit a spell, son.”

Paul sat.
“You saw more than you wanted Sadie to hear.
Didn’t you?”

“Well, now, might be
dat’s why I thought you and me ought to have
dis
talk.
Give me yo’ hand, son.”

“What?”

“Yo’ hand.
Give me yo’ hand.”

She reached out and turned it
palm upward,
leaned
close,
and
traced several lines with the tip of her finger.
Finally, she sat back
. And said nothing.

Paul
broke the silence.

“
I wish I thought you weren’t sayin’ anything be
cause there’s nothing there
tells you anything.
But I don’t think that’s the reason you ain’t talkin’.”

Tamara gave a half-hearted smile.
“You a caution, boy.
I’s ju
st tryi
n’ to think how to ‘splain it,
dat’s all.
See here, I ca
n’t he
l
p you as much as I want to.
I’s
goan
have to sort of sit myself back and advise.
My power’s not
goan
stop
dis
man, not all by itself.”

“Why not?
You tellin’ me your
g
ods of Light ain’t more powerful than the
g
ods of Dark?”

“No, I ain’t.
Ain’t tellin’ you
dat
a’tall.
I’m tellin’ you
I ain’t
de
one
dey
goan
use to stop
dis
man.
D
ey
mo’ powerful, sho’ nuff.
Doan you be thinkin’ else wise, good always
goan
be stronger, but boy, it always
goan
be a struggle.
An’ in
dis
struggle, ain’t me
goan
be
dere
soldier.
It be you.”

“Me?”

“You.
An’ I’s
goan
help
you jest as much as I possi
bly can,
doan
fret yourself none ‘bout
dat.
An’
dere’s things I can do, things
goan
he
lp protect you, but I can’t do most
of it.
You have to.
An
’
dere’s not one thing I can do whut
goan
change
dat.
Wish
dere
was.”

Paul
dispassionately noted
the ripples of sunlight that splashed through the leaves.
This was pretty country. H
e wished he’d brought Chloe into the country more often.

Finally, he spoke.

“Will I win?”

“Yes.”
Tamara responded with no hesitation.

Paul lifted his hand and turned Tamara’s face
to
look into
her
eyes.
He trusted this woman
.
In fact,
he already loved her, as though the love he
felt for Sadie spre
ad over onto this duplicate face.
He smiled
.
She was telling the truth. Just not all of it.