The Black Madonna
Chance Encounter
Chapter One:
Dark silence was shattered as lightning crashed above the rain-soaked street. Its brilliance illuminated a canyon of ancient brick buildings and silhouetted Waterlily White as she tried to find the doorknob of a coffee shop on St. Mark's Place in Manhattan's East Village. The time was ten to six on an evening in early May, the year was 1965.
It began raining around three, coming down harder as the afternoon progressed. Lily felt every drop as she wandered New York’s dismal streets. Soaked to the bone, she’d slipped into a daze around four-thirty as freezing pain gripped her skull and blocked her ability to think.
The thunderclap snapped Lily out of her stupor, forcing her to focus. What was she doing? Horrified, she remembered. Stevie! Someone, no… some thing… was trying to kill her baby boy! It was stupid but painfully true. She needed help. Fast! But she hadn’t found any all afternoon. Locked in a never-ending nightmare, Lily heaved a deep sob of desperation. Her head throbbed and the sidewalk looked like a good place to sleep.
“Think straight. Stevie’s life depends on it… You need a cup of strong coffee.” The lightning flash revealed the doorknob but before she could grab it a dark-skinned man materialized from the shadows and pushed the door open.
“Thanks.” Lily acknowledged, moving passed him on her way down the aisle. First thing was to call Barbara and Carlos. Lily tried the phone, dead. That meant she could rationalize taking a break. The sensuous smell of freshly brewed coffee mixed alluringly with those of hamburgers and fresh baked pie. On the turntable, Mose Alison's “Motherless Child” segued to Dave Bruebeck’s “Take Five” as Lily hung her coat with the other soaking gear on a brass coat-rack. The wooden interior, amber lighting and familiar faces soothed her senses as she waved to friends but headed for a quieter booth in the back. Not surprisingly, she fell asleep on hitting the seat.
“Hey! You’re making a Niagara Falls out of my section.” A female voice yelled, waking Lily up from her catnap. The waitress handed her a clean towel.
"Oh, jeez, I'm sorry, Betty."
"Don't sweat it, hon. I've been stemming the tide all afternoon. The usual?"
"That'd be great, boysenberry pie, coffee light. Make sure the coffee's hot."
Lily dried her long strawberry-blond hair. Twenty-four and a Scandinavian beauty, people often compared her to the movie star, Ingrid Bergman. “Yeah, sure,” Lily would sneer, “in blue jeans." She could never see it. Oh, they looked alike, both Swedes and all. But where Ingrid had chipmunk cheeks and a turned-up nose, Lily’s cheeks were high, her nose straight. Ingrid's hair lay in shining waves. Lily's waves headed in every direction as they cascaded down her back. Her face was dominated by pond-green eyes flecked with gold and, at five-seven, she had long shapely legs and a body to match. The young woman knew she was beautiful but had better interesting things to think about.
She should check the phone. As she fished for change, someone slammed down the receiver. She’d been calling Carlos and Barbara all afternoon and gone into every place they hung out. Where could they be? Oh God. She was crying again.
“Lily, come here. You've gotta see these.” It was Nathan who came to her emotional rescue. “These photos are great.” The scholarly type, Nathan wore horn-rimmed glasses and a red bow tie and sat with their friends looking at a magazine.
These youths saw themselves as artists; modern versions of the medieval monks glorified in Carmina Burina or Dharma Bums on the road with Jack Kerouac. Rebels just finding their cause, most were college dropouts. Some followed Bob Dylan when he swept through the folk-music scene in '62. Others had never left Manhattan. But they were all seeking the Meaning of Life. Picking up the banner of brotherhood when John F. Kennedy fell, some marched with Martin Luther King. They couldn't get enough of Che Guevara or Fidel Castro and listened to Malcolm X on the radio. That is before the Black Muslims or the FBI or both assassinated him. His message was simplicity itself.
"I'm a peaceful man. But you, Whitey, want to lynch me, rape my wife and jail my kids. And, you expect me to just let it happen. Sorry, but you got the wrong man."
His message struck terror in most whites but not these youths. They too rebelled against entrenched power. Malcolm won them over when, returning from Mecca, he spoke of seeing people from the world over flowing together in harmony. To them, this “One World” vision was the fulfillment of Martin Luther King’s dream. They gathered to build that vision, using Aldus Huxley’s "Brave New World" as a guide. Congregating in Greenwich Village, they spilled into the East Village and Lower East Side ghettos, which reeked of soul, with their history of Irish, Jewish, Eastern European and Caribbean immigrants. These youth were sure they were in the proverbial right place at the right time. Two years later, their intuition would be borne out when they'd be known everywhere as hippies. But now, they were a nucleus of cells in the process of forming.
“Lily! You gotta see these." It was Nathan again. “I'm serious.”
“How can I be sociable? … I gotta recharge my batteries and think of something else, even if only for five minutes.” So she signaled Betty and dragged herself over. The gang was absorbed in the latest issue of LIFE. The stunning cover showed the first photograph of a human fetus still in the womb’s beautiful blue orb.
“I'm blown away.” Nathan pushed the magazine over to Lily. “Look at the detail.”
“What gets me,” said Perky Patty, who owned the magazine, “is the confirmation of Darwin's Theory of Evolution. There’s the amoebae, tadpole and frog stages.”
“Like a microcosm of the macrocosm.” Lily had wanted to use the expression since hearing it from her friend, Verushka, a cook at the new macrobiotic restaurant.
“Exactly!” Nathan shot back. “What science dismissed as hocus-pocus or voodoo a hundred years ago is now fact. Makes you wonder where the mind is going next.”
It was then, as the clock struck six, that Lily noticed the man who’d opened the door staring directly at her from the other end of the counter. Had she thanked him? Thirtyish, he was built like a bull, and while not handsome, radiated such power it made her gasp. A spark leapt when their eyes met. Only the waitress's question broke the spell.
"Yes, please." Speaking with a pleasant accent, he held out his cup.
"Puerto Rican." Lily thought.
His clothes were cheap versions of an expensive cut. The sharkskin gray suit, black silk shirt and blood red tie said he was a hustler. Nevertheless, since John F. Kennedy’s death, Lily made it a point to be polite to Negroes, even a Negro as sleazy as this one. So, with only the slightest hint of condescension, Lily motioned for the stranger to join them. Her friends were horrified. Lily chuckled at their dismay. He wouldn’t hurt anyone in public for God's sake!
“Why thank you.” The man picked up his coffee and worked his way to the table.
"I wanted to thank you for opening the door.” Lily smiled oh-so-politely when he got to the table, her friends following her outstanding example of liberalism. It was so chic, common man and all and Lily always had been a bit outrageous. Nathan stood up to give the newcomer his chair. Score one for him. It was very "in" to give one's seat to blacks since Rosa Park’s courage act. Everyone did… if only to retain a progressive image in stiff competition. Not to be outdone, somebody gave Nathan a chair. Things got crowded but no one wanted to be left out.
“I'll have to admit." The man said, shaking hands all around. "I've been listening. I love LIFE magazine but I haven’t seen this issue." His formality put some off. It was so bourgeois. But, hey, this was an adventure so they humored him.
"He seems nice enough." Lily thought but moved her purse just in case.
The man scanned the photos. Actually, no one paid much attention once he sat down. They assumed he didn't have anything to offer. Most gossiped or ordered refills.
"So, tell us about yourself." Nathan said, wanting to score more points.
“Not much to tell." The stranger said studying the photos. “My name’s Calib and I live with my sister and her children in Spanish Harlem.”
No wonder the man was scary. Lily and her friends willingly moved to the East Village Ghetto. It was so romantic. But Harlem was a whole other matter. They ventured there only to see Malcolm or occasionally go to the Apollo Theater. It was just too dangerous.
"However," Calib continued off-handedly, "I'm originally from Cuba.”
That was interesting. Nathan asked. “Havana?”
“No, to the south, Oriente... in the Sierra Maestra Mountains. Ever hear of them?"
Chairs stopped shuffling. Jaws snapped open. There was absolute silence. He was from the Sierra Maestra Mountains? Oh my God! Had they heard of them? It was from those green mountains that Che and Fidel launched their assault against the tyrant, Batista. The most crucial battles of the Revolution were fought there. And here’s this guy saying he grew up there? People listened intently as Nathan, his bifocals wiggling excitedly, asked the question on all their minds.
“Did you ever see Fidel Castro or Che Guevara?”
"See 'em? I slept next to their flea-bitten bodies under a leaking tarp more than one rainy night. Yeah, I joined up with them in the mountains.” There was an audible gasp all round.
“You did?” Nathan asked warily. “How'd that happen?”
“It was early on, Christmas of ‘56. They were being hunted after losing a lot of men landing. There was only about twenty or so of ‘em left. I never knew the real number ‘cause they moved like shadows. I hooked up when some of them rested in our village a couple days. My grandmother cured their flu. Che ...you know he's a doctor?”
They nodded. He could have gotten that from any book.
“Anyway, Che was so impressed he bought a big bag of her herbs. When she told him I knew how to use them, he asked me to join up.”
The audience gulped in awe. Maybe they didn’t believe him but just the thought. Calib chuckled, amazed at his reception, and continued. “A couple buddies and I did just that. We were teen-age hicks and it sounded exciting. My grandma said we were blessed. At first, we stayed with Che. He taught us to be medics. As the war heated up, we went where we were needed.”
The lid blew off the place. Everyone started talking at once.
“The man's a National Hero!”
“Are you putting us on?”
“He's not! Why would he lie?”
“Why wouldn't he?”
“What were Che and Fidel like? It's almost like knowing Jesus, for Christ’s sake.”
“I don't believe you.” Scoffed an amateur historian. “Tell us more.”
"Yes!" Replied the chorus. "Tell us everything!"
"I'm no hero.” Calib smiled. “I did what I was told. We joined for the adventure. Oh, the brass gave us pep talks and said things would be better. We could go for that. I didn't see Fidel much. We split up so we didn't get wiped out. I did fight an ambush with him one time, at the base of this huge Ceiba tree, back to back. Some guys said I saved his life. I thought he saved mine. I stayed with him about ten days that time.
“But mostly, I brewed my grandmother's teas for such glamorous things as bug bites, diarrhea and chest colds. Let me tell you, that bag of herbs played a part in winning the revolution. It allowed Che to save his own medication for the heavy stuff."
The entire coffee shop was quiet. People tiptoed if they moved at all. The gathered crowd hushed those coming through the door."Did you get in on the planning sessions?"
"Not much. Like I said I was a medic and sometime foot soldier." For the next hour, Calib told stories of heroism and valor. The vividness of his account transported everyone to the scene. They walked jungle trails and slept under Caribbean skies. He knew more than first apparent. The scholars took notes.
“When we came down from the mountains and headed for Havana?” Calib laughed. “Now that was something. Our ranks swelled by the thousands. At first, we worried about keeping up the training. Then it became obvious the government couldn't attack for all the people. We rode on a wave of humanity. It was unbelievable. And our reception! Grandmothers and babies kissed us all day and the women all night.”
The conversation was exhausted, armchair experts satisfied and everyone glowed with inspiration. Calib was authentic. He symbolized everything their idealist hearts held dear. Nathan got to his feet as he tapped his cup for attention.
“Here! Here!” He commanded. “I would like to make a toast to this wonderful evening! This fine gentleman and these exquisite photographs are certainly omens of a better future… a future where people around the globe join together as the Family of Man! Is this what the sages call the Dawning of the Age of Aquarius? I'm forced to conclude it is. Therefore! At this most auspicious moment, I salute our new friend and our new revolution!”
It was evident Nathan had been smoking marijuana. The drug tended to fill people with universal images they felt compelled to share with anyone within hearing distance. Finishing his salute, the young man sank back into his chair, exhausted but happy. The group applauded. The Family of Man theme was very popular.
“Maybe it’s the new moon.” Calib said, as though that should explain things. Lily had no idea what he was talking about but astrology was becoming very “in”. She leaned over the table. “I've seen what happens on full moons but I didn't realize the new moon has an influence too.”
Patty interrupted to say good-bye, magazine tucked under her arm. The Cuban gave Lily a "hang on a minute" look as he accepted Patty’s adoration and the guys’ brotherhood clutch. They begged him to return then drifted off and the two were alone. Calib slid over towards Lily. "Sorry for the interruption." He smiled, now the hero, a part that suited him better than the pimp Lily had envisioned earlier. "Where were we?”
“You were going to tell me about new moons and their effect.”
“Right. I was going to say the new moon is a time of new beginnings. Tonight seems to be just that.” He motioned to Betty for more coffee.
"Could be.” Lily smiled. “Full moon, new moon, it makes sense in a quaint way.”
“It's more than quaint.” Calib replied seriously, ignoring her glib attitude. “Watch what happens the next couple of new moons and you'll see what I mean.”
“You know a lot.” Lily said as Betty filled their cups, too busy to chat.
“Well, I know I'm almost dry." Calib grinned. "What a downpour. …I've never been in this place before. It’s nice. Actually, I was unsuccessfully looking for a friend when the rain got so bad I ran in here. I just sat down when I saw you lit up by that lightning bolt.”
His words brought back her despair but Lily forced a laugh. Hero or not, she couldn't break down in front of a stranger. “I must’ve looked terrible! I’d been on a wild goose chase myself, trying to find my friends. Usually, I just call. But when I really need ‘em? They're nowhere to be found. Let me tell you, I walked every inch of lower Manhattan …in the rain.”
“Aw, we're poor little lambs who've gone astray.” Calib intoned. They laughed at their common dilemma. But his words fit and tears whelmed in her eyes. He smiled, his eyes foreign but kind. “So, tell me. Why do you need your friends? Maybe I can help?”
Lily wallowed in his strength for a moment then retreated into herself. He'd think she was a raving lunatic if she told him what was going on. “No, but thanks. It's just one of those things friends do for each other.”
“Maybe I'm a new friend.”
Lily didn’t trust him. Sipping her coffee to gain time, she said the first thing that came to mind. “I've been interested in other cultures since I was a little girl and read the National My invisible playmate was the Dalai Lama. I kept the issue on him.”
“So you see me as an exotic out of National Geographic?” Calib’s words stung.
“Of course not.” Lily lied, trapped in her prejudice.
“Oh, don't worry. If the truth were told, you're the one who's exotic to me.”
Lily giggled. “I'm sorry.”
“What's wrong with exotic? The problem comes when you realize everyone is just like you. Then you've lost a certain sense of discovery.”
“I never thought of it that way.” Someone tried the phone, still down. She continued. “There's a whole world out there I want to explore. And yes, I am looking for the exotic. I feel like so much information is kept from us. It's as if Euro-centric society doesn't want any competition. It might break their monopoly over the world.”
“Very perceptive." Calib was enjoying himself. Maybe he needed to get away from his problems too. "I read the National Geographic myself. Besides school, it's how I learned English. One of their photographers did a shoot in our village and sent a subscription to the grocery store. I read them while I waited for my grandmother. I'll bet you were one of those kids who lived in the snowy north.”
Lily giggled again. “Did you see the issue on ice-fishing?”
“One of my favorites …in Minnesota or Northern Michigan or …somewhere exotic. I loved the sunlight refractions shining through the ice and creating all those silver and blues.”
“Aluminum ice shanties do that. They’re top of the line. My dad was standing outside when the pictures were taken."
“You’re joking?”
“No, really.”
“Oh, so it was his foot that caused that dark spot! I’m just kidding. Okay, I got one. Remember the kid in the coconut tree in the Cuban issue?”
“Of course. He was a cutie.”
“That was me! And I agree, I was darling.”
They smiled, suddenly old friends. Lily changed gears. “Back to academia. I had to leave college. It seemed more important to take classes at the University of the Streets.”
“Me?” Calib answered. “I'd give anything to go from the streets to the university. Sounds like heaven. You never told me your name.”
“Sorry.” Lily chirped, glad to be off the hook. “I'm Lily.”
“Okay, Lily, what's your birth date? Maybe I can tell you something about yourself.”
Lily fell happily into the game. “July 25th.”
“A Leo! I should have known. Like a cat.”
“And the sun.” Lily said. “But that's about all I know.”
“And like the sun, you crave center stage and are a bit of a ham.”
Lily laughed with delight. He was right. “So what about you?”
“Me? I’m a Taurus with Scorpio rising but let’s talk about you. You love to laugh and have a good time, although, when it suits you, you can be pretty bossy. What year?”
“1940.”
“That right? You have Pluto conjunct your sun. Possibly exact.”
“What does that mean?”
“You'll be closely involved in your generation’s development.”
Lily loved that. She wanted to be in the thick of things. Freed from a suffocating marriage, she wanted to learn all about life and New York was the place to do it. Calib went on. “You also have the ability to reach into the unconscious and bring the ‘other side’ into the light of day.”
“I do?” Lily shivered. His words brought forth the fears that gripped her. Her headache flared and her vision wavered. A scar on the Cuban’s cheek pulsated red against his black skin. Suddenly, she didn't want anything to do with him. If he wasn’t sinister, who was? And he was delving into places he had no right to go.
“Are you cold?” Calib asked. “Want my jacket?”
“No thanks.” Lily looked for an escape. “Someone probably opened the door.”
He stared at her but changed the subject. “By the way, my full name is Calib-called-Michael-the-Archangel. I’m what's called a ‘Guajiro’.”
That was better. It was that Plutonian underworld stuff Lily didn't want to touch. “Sounds like a tradition from slavery.”
“Before that my grandmother says. She’s into the old religion.”
Lily tried not to react. The only old African religion she could think of was Voodoo and she certainly didn't want to accuse the poor woman of that. She punted.
“It's amazing anything's left of the old traditions.”
“We were lucky to be slaves in a Catholic country.” Calib returned. “It was worse for those in Protestant countries. They were left with nothing. But we got to keep our religion pretty much intact. The Church simply syncretized our gods, the Orisha, with Catholic saints.” Was he really talking about Voodoo? The Cuban continued. “My grandma was also a devoted Catholic. She named me for our African ancestors but with a Christian twist …to cover me on both fronts.”
Lily laughed with him. “That's pretty cool but I don’t understand.”
“Calib guarded the Eastern Gate of the Red Sea. The Archangel Michael is Guardian of the Gates of Heaven. So is my Orisha, Eleggua, …besides being the Lord of the Crossroads.” His reference wrenched Lily’s innards. Hunched over his cup, Calib didn't notice. “The old religion is a lot like the Spiritualist Church here in the states.”
“Lord of the Crossroads?” The words hissed through Lily’s teeth. Calib looked up warily. Then he noticed her anxiety. “Sorry. Did I offend you?”
“No, no. It's just...” She couldn't contain the tears splashing down her cheeks.
“What's wrong?” Calib's defensive posture evaporated.
“It's...it's when you mentioned the Spiritualists.” She finally answered.
“The Spiritualists are good people. There must be a misunderstanding.”
Lily dried her eyes. “It's not them. It's what's happened since I met them.” She was caught between a rock and a hard place. Calib was exactly what she needed but something said he was dangerous. But he was all she had. Betty passed with a pot of coffee. Lily hailed her, glad for the respite.
“Well, Calib, if you're going to listen to this, how about some pie …on me?”
The Cuban looked at his watch. “Sure. I've missed dinner at my sister's anyway. I'll have coconut cream, if you’ve got it.”
“Coconut cream it is.” Betty answered.
After stirring his coffee, Calib broke the silence. “The sooner we have this out the sooner we can clear things up. It might be easiest to start at the beginning.”
Lily collected her thoughts. “Don't laugh, okay? It'll probably sound real dumb.”
“If it's affecting you this way, I don't see how it can be.” Calib encouraged.
“It started a year and a half ago in Berkeley when I was pregnant. My ex-husband is a bebop musician, one of the last beatniks, extremely creative…and an alcoholic.”
Calib chuckled sympathetically. “I know the type.”
“On Christmas Eve, he and a buddy drank up all our money. When they got back, he threw a scraggly tree on the floor. That led to a huge fight and he left. After things settled down my neighbor Jane barged in with her seven-year-old daughter in tow. In her hand she held a Santa Claus ornament. ‘This is for your tree. It's not Christmas without Santa.’ Standing up the tree, she attached the ornament, my only one.
“’We can't have Santa all alone. Got any popcorn?’ She sent her daughter and my little girl to pick red winterberries in the yard. ‘We’ll string them together.’ Rummaging through the kitchen drawers, she pulled out aluminum foil and flour for paste. ‘Got any paper for chains?’ We made all kinds of ornaments and had a wonderful time. ‘You're going to have a lot of luck from this Santa.’ Jane said as we worked. ‘I called my spiritual healer earlier and had it blessed. Your life is going to be much happier.’ Jane was right. My luck soon changed for the better.”
“Sounds like you've had a rough time.”
“Let’s just say I don’t want to rush into marriage again. My whole life I’ve been told what to do by parents, teachers, husbands. I don’t know who I am other than a reflection of someone else. I want to find out who I am. By myself! And I want to find out what makes the world tick. But, let's not talk about it, okay?”
“Of course.” Calib's manner was professional. “So, your life changed and…?”
“Jane belonged to the Spiritualist Church, …she showed me how to conjure.”
Calib saw her hesitation. “It's all right, I’ve done it myself.” A shadow passed over Lily’s eyes. She wanted to get away. Calib broke through. “What exactly did Jane do? I need details.”
A voice deep within insisted Lily shut up. The creep was setting her up. That's ridiculous, another voice argued. What about Stevie? “That’s why when you said Lord of the Crossroads, it cut too close. She lit a candle and prayed to ‘The Lord of the Flame.’ Then I’d write what I wanted on parchment paper and burn it in a candle. I got what I asked for in three days.”
“Did you give this spirit anything in return?”
“Whadda yah mean?”
“Did you give an offering for what you received?” It scared Lily that he took this all in stride, as if it was real. That was the last thing she needed.
“Jane said I should. She always put flowers next to the candle and didn’t touch them until they faded. It was too weird for me. I was afraid I'd laugh out loud.”
“In other words,” Calib huffed. “You didn't think it was stupid when you got your wish, only when you had to give something back?” The Cuban was obviously disgusted. “This is so typical of you Americans, I swear. So, what happened next?”
“I had a nervous breakdown. My daughter’s dad and I agreed she should live with him. He loved her, remarried a woman I liked and had a steady job. That summer, I met a painter. My son, Stevie, and I followed him here. But the guy got violent. About two months ago he kicked my son. I left the next day when he was at work.”
“Have you conjured since moving to Manhattan?”
“Some. When I still lived with the ex, a girlfriend and I got bored and I remembered Jane's ritual. In three days, we got exactly what we wanted. It was the parlor game of the hour.”
“Did you give anything in return?”
“No, I told you. That part turned me off.”
Calib shook his head. “Okay... What happened then?”
Lily sipped her coffee. “We lived in a loft near Houston Street. Whenever the fireplace was lit, Stevie tried to climb in. I wired the screen shut, but he was obsessed. I finally kept him in the playpen when a fire was lit. There’s something else… a huge sewer rat started coming around. I was terrified it would bite Stevie.”
“A rat?” Calib asked. Lily didn't like the sound of his voice.
“Yeah, it had beady red eyes and was really creepy. In fact, it was an argument over making Stevie’s room rat proof that got my ex so violent. He didn’t want to stop painting. That was weird too, because he’d always been good to Stevie.”
“So you moved to where you are now? How was the boy once you moved?”
“A lot happier. He’s got the babysitter’s kids to play with. But I spent the first couple weeks keeping him from crawling out the windows.”
“How old is he?”
“About a year and a half.”
“They can be pretty rambunctious at that age.”
“True, but it’s more.” Lily shuttered. “Now Stevie’s fascinated with the gas stove. This morning he pushed a chair over to it, climbed up and, quick as a fox, turned on the burners. Thank God I was able to pull him off before they lit.”
“But he wasn’t hurt. That's what's important. What happened next?”
Terror flared in Lily's heart. An excruciating pain washed over her. It almost seemed to snarl. But, by focusing on her son, the mother was able to contain her anger.
“When I gave Stevie his nap, it hit me how easily I could have lost him. That’s when I remembered the Lord of the Flame and lit a candle. I figured if it could help me get frou-frous, it might help me with Stevie. I wanted to shape my question perfectly so I...” Lily hesitated not sure how Calib would react. “…I lit a joint of marijuana a friend gave me. I was saving it.”
“Sure, sure.” Calib dismissed her attempt at innocence. “What happened next?”
“After a couple tokes, I blew some of the smoke at the candle flame. It's a tradition to share the joint. So… I did.” Lily prayed he wasn't a cop.
All Calib said was; “And? After you gave the offering?”
“I spaced out looking into the flame. A hazy gold glowed in my peripheral vision then the flame turned brilliant platinum. In it, a dot of gold appeared and grew until, in it, a dark spot appeared. And in it a solitary, white ‘S’ formed. It was terrible.”
Calib was calm. “What do you think it meant?”
Who was this creep? She withheld the truth. “I haven't the slightest idea.”
Calib wasn't going to let her off easily. “You have some idea. I see it in your face. What popped into your mind?” His voice held such command the words burst out of her.
“That my son is going to die!”
“I agree. …And that’s why we met. Whatever you've been conjuring; it’s not the Lord of the Flame. Now it wants payment for the favors it’s rendered and that’s Stevie.”
Lily had to get away. The phone, she leaped up and ran to the phone, still out. Calib got up and moved towards her. He was going to grab her.
“Lily, sit down. This isn't doing your son any good.” The Cuban led her back, rubbing the tension from her shoulders as he did. Lily drank the ice water he offered while he wiped away her smeared mascara with a dampened napkin.
“Thanks.” Lily remembered Latin men liked being protectors. Maybe she did need a knight in shining armor. He was right. It was best to be calm. But was she going insane? That fear had haunted her since she saw the terrifying ‘S’. Maybe this was all a mad delusion. What would happen to Stevie if she had to be hospitalized?
“What happened after you saw the ‘S’?” Calib said, pulling her out of her reverie.
Lily suppressed her anxiety. “Let me think… The vision faded and I sat in shock... Oh, you know what happened? The funniest thing! This cute little bird, a chickadee or something, started pecking on my windowpane. Really! It was before the rain started but the wind was whipped up pretty good. I figured the bird was having trouble flying.”
“So the winds were whipped up. Were they whirling?”
“Yeah… I guess. Is that important?”
“Maybe. You just conjured. Spirits can whirl. What happened to the bird?”
“Okay, now don't laugh. I swear it was trying to get my attention. When I looked up, it stopped pecking, stared me in the eye and started chattering away. Then it hopped to the other end of the window ledge and came back, over and over, like it wanted me to see something. When I got up, it flew south. I felt sure it wanted me to see where it was going.”
“And where did it go?”
“To the end of the block then it turned right. That’s when I remembered this store around the corner. One of those Puerto Rican places with all the weird junk in the window.”
Calib’s face was a strange mixture of reactions; recognition, pain, pride. Lily realized she'd just insulted his culture. “I'm sorry. Did I say something wrong.”
“No, no.” He lied politely. “I've been around those places since I was a kid so to me they're not strange at all. Shall we continue?”
“That's probably best… Jane’s altar had the same stuff on it so I took Stevie to the sitter and went there. I was moving so fast, I fell down a couple stairs.”
“Is that right?” Calib’s eyebrows rose with the information. “And?”
“Oh I caught myself. At the store, the door was wide open. Two rude men were sitting at the counter. First guy turned his back on me. The other one looked at me like he hated Whitey.”
Calib chuckled. “Maybe he did. Maybe they were Guardians of the Gate… What else?”
“It soon became obvious I needed a translator. I thought of Barbara and Carlos. They’re both bilingual and were in on the conjuring.”
“Are these the people you've been looking for?” Calib asked.
“Yeah. I went to their place. A neighbor suggested the market. Then I headed to Greenwich Village. They hang out there but not today. I called everybody and went everywhere. It got raining too hard to go on so I came in here to make a plan.”
“And what’s your plan?” Calib asked.
“Oh...” Tears whelmed. “The rain's let up. I’ll try my friends again. But I've got to get home. I'm way overdue. As far as help goes, I haven't the slightest idea. If I can't reach them…” Lily fussed with her purse. “I know this is asking a lot but could you translate? I don't trust those people. You could tell me if they’re honest. … I’ll pay you. Maybe five, ten dollars?”
He had to help. Barbara and Carlos didn't know half of what he did.
“I'd be honored.” Calib answered.
“Really?”
When Calib nodded, she smiled for the first time in hours. He joked comfortingly. “That’s better. You're actually pretty. I couldn't tell before. I thought you were a drown cat.”
“My dad’s a doctor. You remind me of him. You both have this professional air.”
“Thanks, with my herbs I feel like one. As your doctor then, I say we formulate that plan… Your son’s in danger but actually, you're the real object of the hunt.” Piercing pain shot through Lily’s neck. “None of this would’ve happened if you’d paid. Now it has no intention of leaving. It may want to use you as a reverse Nganga. That's why you think you're going crazy.”
She hadn’t told him that. “What’s a Nganga?” She really didn’t want to know.
“A spirit slave controlled by a witch doctor. Only you’d be controlled by a spirit; sort of like a zombie. It sees you as easy pickings. You’ve been feeling like you’re in a fog and have trouble focusing. Plus you’ve been having intense headaches, right?”
“How’d yah know that?”
“Typical symptoms. It's going to claim your son while it’s at it. That's what the 'S' in the candle stood for, sacrifice. It wants you as its slave and your son’s life.”
Lily's agitation flared, a demon controlling her mind? “You’re wrong.”
“No I’m not. Every time you conjured you incurred a debt. Spirits, like humans, want to be paid. I don’t think the Lord of the Flame answered you in Manhattan. Instead, you reached through to the other side and grabbed what was there, probably a soul sucker. Pay them and they do your bidding. But do them wrong and they’ll suck you dry.”
The back of Lily’s neck throbbed in pain. “That's crazy!”
“Crazy, but true.” Calib continued. “And, it's going to claim you both very soon.”
“I'm sorry, Calib. I can't keep the babysitter waiting any longer.” Lily succumbed to her inner urgings and jumped from the seat. Trying to collect her things, pay the bill and shake Calib's hand all at the same time, she failed completely.
“Lily! If you leave, it’ll attack. Tonight. There's no place to hide. It's sucked onto you and I'm the only one with the skills to get rid of it. Please… sit down. You’re scared silly. Probably even of me, but I promise. I’m not going to hurt you.” Lily sat down. “That’s better. I believe my saints sent me to help you. Okay? I knew that the Guardian of the Gate caused the only seat available to be next to the door and I saw you in the lightning. My type often works for the Orisha. Usually I'd never have come in here. It’s not my kind of place, too exotic.”
“You're terrible.” Lily giggled despite herself. “And, if it hadn’t been for that thunderbolt snapping me awake, I probably would have popped in and left again.”
“You're beginning to understand. So… taking pity, Eleggua made our paths cross. By the way, he’s a close friend of Shango, the real Lord of the Flame …and Lightning. Fun huh? To pass through the Gate to Heaven, you need Eleggua's permission. If he doesn't like you, he attacks. If you’re accepted, he’ll guide you on the Path of Life. Shango wards off enemies. It's more complicated but you get the idea. What then was I to do when you appeared, lit by lightning and trying to open the door? I rushed to help.”
Lily smiled. Calib could be charming. He became serious. “And, to really help you, I need information.” She nodded, understanding more now. “Answer carefully. Little details can be important. The store you went to, was it called a Botanica?”
“To be honest, Calib. I didn't notice... Everything was in Spanish. Why?”
“Those men are probably from my religion so it’s possible they were possessed. If Eleggua possessed the guy who accepted you, he signaled his acceptance by inviting you back. The other man, as the second guardian, Oggun, turned his back to indicate you weren't a member of his family. On that level, what they did was fraught with meaning and showed the saints are favorably inclined to help you and your son.”
“Or they could have just been two disgusting men.” Lily answered sarcastically.
“As you wish…” Calib was equally as snide. They were at an impasse. Lily had to ask.
“I hate to pry but what is your religion?” The air sparked with electricity and a cold breeze blew across Lily’s shoulders. Except for a cat in the alley, all sound was mute.
“My religion is Santeria, the Yoruban branch. You've probably heard of its negative aspect, Voodoo.” Lily suddenly became aware of how vulnerable she was. Naive and lily-white was an understatement. She was ripe for the picking.
“Voodoo?” Lily said, almost in a whisper. “Isn't that something evil?”
“Just to a few slave owners.” Calib laughed sinisterly. If it hadn't been for the sheer terror of it all, this would be ridiculous. Only, it wasn't even funny. She was caught between the devil and the deep blue sea. “I'm not going to hurt you.” He said. “If I did? After Shango and Eleggua asked me to protect you? I'd be in a lot of trouble. Nothing would go right for a long time. I don’t know why the Orisha want to protect you but they do and that’s good enough for me.”
Calib ate some pie. Lily sipped her coffee. Then he started again.
“I can't believe you conjured a demon without knowing what you were doing. That's what's wrong with you Europeans. Anyone with any spiritual knowledge you burned at the stake. Now you have no spiritual tradition and refuse to accept the obvious. I'm surprised you ever discovered electricity. Whatever, you need to get out of this mess. As I said, you owe the spirit and it’s claiming what’s due. It's a simple law of nature.”
“It can't do that!” Lily blurted out. “My son's life for a few babbles?”
“Lily! It's already sucked onto your neck.” His words struck home. It explained what felt buried at the base of her skull: a murky web of razor-sharp teeth. Involuntarily, she jerked. “Don’t move.” Calib’s words stopped her. “I see it. Problem is, it sees me too.”
A shiver of terror raced up Lily's spine. The inner voice was shrill. “Run! Run!”
“Sit still!” Calib growled. “If you value your life, don't move.”
He raised his hand, arching his arm as he did, until the palm sat only inches above the pain. Then, pulling his cupped hand away slowly, he created an ever-tightening suction. Needle-sharp teeth dug in deeper. Unexpectedly, Calib released his hold. The amoebae surrounding the needles relaxed. Ethers were once again sucked through sharp slivers and the creature pawed like a contented cat. Without warning and lightning fast, Calib repeated the gesture. This time he didn't release. Instead, he snapped the invisible creature off Lily’s neck and with a powerful flick of his wrist flung it against the wall. Lily was sure it shrieked. Then there was silence. For the first time in months, Lily's thoughts were clear.
“We have to be careful.” Calib was analytical. “It's sure to try to reattach itself.”
“What’ll I do?” Lily thought her heart would stop from fright.
“We need to get rid of this thing permanently.” Calib's calm was a bane to her nerves. “It’s not going to give up easily. Thankfully, Santeria has rituals to pay for its services. We better offer something it has to accept… probably two white doves to take your places. It's not going to like it but by its own laws, it can't refuse them.”
“Wait just one minute!” Lily came to a screeching halt. “I'm not going to kill two innocent birds to pay that thing off. It doesn't deserve a damn thing. Look what it's put me through. No. I absolutely refuse to allow it.” As she sat there righteously defiant, the demon rose from the corner, an oozing thing the size of a golf ball. Sharp teeth clicked furiously beneath beady-red eyes as bat wings rushed for her neck.
“Get it off me!” Lily screamed, trying to beat the thing away as it sought its mark but Calib's cupped hand was already snapping it back into the same corner.
“You see what happens when you insist on playing moralistic white girl games?”
Lily was shattered. “That, sir, is the way we whites are. Two wrongs don't make a right.”
“When was the last time you ate chicken?” Finally, he threw up his hands. “Okay! Fine! No doves. But that leaves exactly one alternative and it's probably more than you can handle.”
“I'm not selling my soul to the devil if that's what you mean.”
Calib laughed scornfully. “You people and your hysterical delusions.”
“Just so you understand.” Lily grunted.
“Oh, I do… I have to initiate you into the Santeria religion. First you’ll need a bath to cleanse you of negativity, especially from this vampire. You’ll also need a set of ‘Collares’, sacred beads that represent your Warriors, the Orisha who’ll protect you during your life.”
“That might be okay…”
Calib sipped his coffee. “That part’s easy. The problem is you need to make a sacrifice…” there was that word again, “…determined by the Yoruban gods themselves.”
“I'm not killing anything. But who are the Yorubans? You mentioned them before.”
“The Yoruban tribe extends from southwest Nigeria into Benin and Togo. Santeria follows their version of a religion found across Central Africa. They had an advanced civilization with universities and tremendous trade. Their artwork’s known the world over.
Right now, the important thing is to determine your warriors. You need five but it’s impossible to know which ones without the right ceremony. That’s not possible on short notice. Two warriors are the minimum. From the signs, one should be Eleggua. He opened the door for you. As for the second, I'd say Shango, the Lord of Lightning. He pointed you out to me. I suspect you're a daughter of Shango, both because of the lightning and you're a Leo. His Yoruban feast day is in the sign of Leo. He's also the god of laughter, the heart, drums and music. You know that jazz song ‘Xingo’ by the drummer, Olatunje?”
“Sure. He brought it over from Africa. It’s supposed to be real old. Jazz musicians say the joint starts jumping when they play it.”
“Yeah, that one. Shango, Sango, Chango, Xingo are all the same Lord of the Drums but in different dialects. Like most Yoruban gods, he’s an ancestor and was once human. About four hundred years ago, he ruled the kingdom of Oyo in Nigeria.”
Being the daughter of some African god-king appealed to Lily’s vanity. Would she be a princess? Still... “It could be dangerous.”
“Nothing dangerous about it, unless you're disrespectful. If you don't like Shango, just stop conjuring him. It’s no sweat to him. He's got a million others.” His remark made her jealous despite herself. “If you are a daughter of Shango, you’re already in his family. If you’re not, your energies could be incompatible and make you sick.”
Lily didn't like the sound of that. She sipped her coffee apprehensively.
“Maybe I should bring you into the greater family… the seven main Yoruban powers. That lets Shango and Eleggua to be your guardians...” Locked in his finagling, Calib barely addressed Lily. “You’ll need a Bath of Purification first then I’ll put you under the Seven Powers.” He looked up. “Am I boring you?”
“No, no. I don’t understand a thing but it’s interesting.”
“The bath and guardians should be more than enough to drive away any demon. But what if the guardians reject you? The Seven Powers are extremely powerful but we need a connecting point, a family, to care for you. Not giving an offering hinders the necessary circle of give and take. That’s what I’m trying to rectify.” He resumed his finagling while Lily fiddled with her spoon. Finally he spoke. “There's only one way to do this. I’ll have to marry you to Shango. You can be in his family. Then you don’t need to establish lineage. That works.”
“Wait just a minute here! You want to marry me to some Voodoo god?”
The flapping of wings stopped as Calib answered sharply. "Oh, get off it. Here I’m worried about having enough strength to pull this off and you refuse to do things the traditional way. The required sacrifice would have taken care of the whole affair.” The Cuban could tell Lily wasn't convinced. “I know it sounds extreme.”
“Extreme? It’s beyond belief. And it’s freaking me out.”
They sat there, the chasm widening between them.
“Maybe I should tell you what you’d be getting into. The Seven Powers make up the seven colors of the rainbow and the seven notes of the musical scale. Each god represents a power in nature like Oggun, god of weapons. Obatala rules the head and is both male and female. Each Orisha has assigned colors. Eleggua's are red and black. Shango's are red and white.” Calib paused. “You’d probably like to know about the Goddesses.”
Lily’s face lit with a smile. “There’re Goddesses?”
“Of course. There's the beautiful Yemaya, the Great Mother. She’s the moon and oceans. Chants on slave ships were often sung to her. She's silver, blue and white. Then there’s Oshun, the goddess of honey, sensuality and marriage. She’s the patron saint of Cuba and loves gold, both the color and the metal. You may be Oshun because of your honey coloring. She’s a favorite of Shango’s. And Oya, the Goddess of the Wind…”
Lily giggled. Calib might be strange but he was fun.
“Then there’s Babalu-Aye, who both causes and cures illness. You know him through Desi Arnez.” They spontaneously broke into “Babaluuuu!”
“A good Cuban, Desi.” Calib said proudly. “There’s a lot more.”
“Sounds like Greek mythology, Oggun and Aries, for instance.”
Calib agreed. “That’s right, practically synonymous. Another thing, the Yorubans are the roots. Santeria is the tree growing in the new world. It has influences from the Catholic and Native American churches and the Buddhist too. We respect all religions.”
After refills from Betty, he went on. “When Shango was alive he experimented with electricity. While experimenting a thunderbolt struck his compound and killed most of his wives and kids. Ashamed, he hung himself and his enemies invaded. Desperate, the people cried for protection. At which point lightning destroyed the invaders. Now, whenever there’s thunder, devotees go on their toes and say ‘Cabio Sile! The King Is Not Dead.’ Since that day, Shango has represented victory over an enemy. In fact, I was just going up on my toes and ended up opening the door for you.”
Lily sat there. There was so much to consider. Calib misinterpreted her silence. “Think about it. He’s the Lord of Laughter and Rhythm. That should say something.”
Suddenly sarcastic, Lily asked. “Like the bogeyman, huh?”
“Boogie Man? Yes! The King of Boogie Woogie, …He’s the Mojo! He rules rhythm and blues and rock and roll! Like Chuck Berry!”
The Chuck Berry reference didn't help. Adored by Lily’s generation, their parents hated the rhythm and blues musician’s blatant sexuality. Whether he was the Boogie Man or the bogeyman depended on one's perspective. The thought made her laugh. Calib laughed too. If he knew about the man who rapes little girls, he wasn't letting on.
“See! The Boogie Man has you laughing already! Now, the Botanica is probably closed so that means tomorrow. It's tonight we've got to worry about.”
“Couldn't we just see that woman tomorrow? …Instead of getting carried away?”
“If you want.” He retreated. “I’m just saying you need protection until then. I should walk you home and put up some safeguards for the night. It won't attack if I'm near.”
“I'll be fine. Let’s say ten. Breakfast's on me.” Wings started beating. Calib looked at her seriously. “What happens when you walk out that door?” She remembered sliding down the steps earlier. She’d distinctly felt hands pushing her but no one was around. “Well, Calib-called-Michael, instead of breakfast, how about a home-cooked dinner?”
“Sounds great. I'm starved.”
Calib helped her with her coat after Lily paid the bill. Then he guided her by the elbow towards the door and opened it. The rain had stopped. The air was fresh and a warm wind kissed Lily’s cheeks as she moved into the night.
