"I… see… And who, if you don't mind my asking, are you?" The woman laughed good-humoredly. "No, child, I don't mind at all. It shows admirable caution on your part. I am Mambo Julia, priestess and premiere reine of the local Bizango chapter." She must have correctly read the baled look on Chrysalis's face, for she laughed aloud. "You blancs are so funny! You think you know everything. You come to Haiti in your great airplane, walk about for one day, and then dispense your magical advice that will cure all our ills. And not once do even one of you leave Port-au-Prince!" Mambo Julia laughed again, this time with some derision. "You know nothing of Haiti, the real Haiti. Port-au-Prince is a gigantic caricer that shelters the leeches that are sucking the juices from Haiti's body. But the countryside, ah, the countryside is Haiti's heart!"
"Well, my child, I shall tell you everything you need to know to begin to understand. Everything, and more, than you want to know. Come to my hut. Rest. Drink. Have a little something to eat. And listen."
Chrysalis considered the woman's offer. Right now she was more concerned about her own difficulties than Haiti's, but Mambo Julia's invitation sounded good. She wanted to rest her aching feet and drink something cold. The idea of food also sounded inviting. It seemed as if she'd last eaten years ago.
"All right," she said, following Mambo Julia toward the hut. Before they reached the door, a middle-aged man, thin, like most Haitians, with a shock of premature white hair, came around from the back.
"Baptiste!" Mambo Julia cried. "Have you fed the zombi?" The man nodded and bobbed a courteous bow in Chrysalis's direction. "Good. Tell the others that Madame Brigitte has found her own way home."
He bowed again, and Chrysalis and Mambo Julia went into the hut.
Inside, it was plainly, neatly, comfortably furnished. Mambo Julia ushered Chrysalis to a rough-hewn plank table and served her fresh water and a selection of fresh, succulent tropical fruits, most of which were unfamiliar, but tasty.
Outside, a drum began to beat a complicated rhythm to the night. Inside, Mambo Julia began to talk.
One of Ti Malice's mounts delivered Ezili's message at midnight. It had succeeded in the task he'd given it. A new mount was lying in drugged slumber at the Royal Haitian Hotel, awaiting its first kiss.
Excited as a child on Christmas morning, Ti Malice decided that he couldn't wait at the fortress for the mounts he'd sent Taureau after to be delivered. He wanted new blood, and he wanted it now.
He moved from his old favorite to a different mount, a girl not much bigger than he, that was already waiting in the special box that he'd had built for occasions when he had to move about in public. It was the size of a large suitcase and was cramped and uncomfortable, but it afforded the privacy he needed for his public excursions. It took a bit of caution, but Ti Malice was smuggled unseen to the third floor of the Royal Haitian Hotel where Ezili, naked and hair flying wild, let him into the room and stood back while the mount bearing him opened the lid and stepped from the box as he moved from the girl's chest to the more comfortable position upon its back and shoulders.
Ezili led him into the bedroom where his new mount was sleeping peacefully.
"He wanted me the moment he saw me," Ezili said. "It was easy to get him to bring me here, and easier yet to slip the draught into his drink after he had me." She pouted, fingering the large, dark nipple of her left breast. "He was a quick lover." she said with some disappointment.
"Later," Ti Malice said through his mount, "you shall be rewarded."
Ezili smiled happily as Ti Malice ordered his mount to bring him closer to the bed. The mount complied, bending over the sleeping man, and Ti Malice transferred himself quickly. He snuggled against the man's chest, nuzzling its neck. The man stirred, moaned a little in its drugged sleep. Ti Malice found the spot he needed, bit down with his single, sharp tooth, then drove his tongue home.
The new mount groaned and feebly reached for its neck. But Ti Malice was already firmly in place, mixing his saliva with his mount's blood, and the mount subsided like a grumpy child having a slightly bad dream. It settled down into deep sleep while Ti Malice made it his.
It was a splendid mount, powerful and strong. Its blood tasted wonderful. iv.
"There have always been two Haitis," Mambo Julia said. "There is the city, Port-au-Prince, where the government and its law rule. And there is the countryside, where the Bizango rules."
"You used that word before," Chrysalis said, wiping the sweet juices of a succulent tropical fruit off her chin. "What does it mean?"
"As your skeleton, which I can see so clearly, holds your body together, so the Bizango binds the people of the countryside. It is an organization, a society with a network of obligations and order. Not everyone belongs to it, but everyone has a place in it and all abide by its decisions. The Bizango settles disputes that would otherwise rip us apart. Sometimes it is easy. Sometimes, as when someone is sentenced to become a zombi, it is difficult."
"The Bizango sentenced Marcel to become a zombi?" Mambo Julia nodded. "He was a bad man. We in Haiti are more permissive about certain things than you Americans. Marcel liked girls. There is nothing wrong with that. Many men have several women. It is all right as long as they can support them and their children. But Marcel liked young girls. Very young girls. He couldn't stop, so the Bizango sat in judgment and sentenced him to become a zombi."
"They turned him into a zombi?"
"No, my dear. They judged him." Mambo Julia lost her air of convivial jollity. " I made him into what he is today, and keep him that way by the powders I feed him daily." Chrysalis placed the half-eaten fruit she was holding back upon its plate, having suddenly lost her appetite. "It is a most sensible solution. Marcel no longer harms young girls. He is instead a tireless worker for the good of the community."
"And he'll always be a zombi?"
"Well, there have been a few zombi savane, those who have been buried and brought back as zombis, then somehow managed to return to the state of the living." Mambo Julia plucked her chin thoughtfully. "But such have always remained somewhat… impaired."
Chrysalis swallowed hard. " I appreciate what you've done for me. I… I'm not sure what Calixte intended, but I'm sure he meant me harm. But now that I'm free, I'd like to return to Port-au-Prince."
"Of course you do, child. And you shall. In fact, we were planning on it."
Mambo Julia's words were welcome, but Chrysalis wasn't sure that she cared much for her tone. "What do you mean?" Mambo Julie looked at her seriously. "I'm not sure, either, what Calixte planned for you. I do know that he's been collecting people such as yourself. People who've been changed. I don't know what he does to them, but they become his. They do the dirty deeds that even the Tonton Macoute refuse. And he keeps them busy," she said with a clenched jaw.
"Charlemagne Calixte is our enemy. He is the power in Port-au-Prince. Jean-Claude Duvalier's father, Francois, was in his own way a great man. He was ruthless and ambitious. He found his way into power and held it for many years. He first organized the Tonton Macoute, and they helped him line his pockets with the wealth of an entire country."
"But Jean-Claude is unlike his father. He is foolish and weak-willed. He has allowed the real power to flow into Calixte's hands, and that devil is so greedy that he threatens to suck the life from us like a loup garou." She shook her head. "He must be stopped. His stranglehold must be loosened so the blood will flow through Haiti's veins again. But his power runs deeper than the guns of the Tonton Macoute. He is either a powerful bokor, or he has one working for him. The magic of this bokor is very strong. It has enabled Calixte to survive several assassination attempts. Though one of them, at least," she said with some satisfaction, "left its mark on him."