wrapped in a bandage that ran from the top of his head to his jaw, and a second bandage bound his two big toes together. His eyes were open but vacant. The garage was dark except for candles burning at various points beside Luis’ body and several lanterns hanging on the wall. The air was thick with incense. Half a dozen people surrounded Madame Souffrant, who was intoning, “In the name of God the Father, God the Son, and God the Holy Ghost, in the name of Mary, in the name of Jesus, in the name of all the saints, all the dead …”
A strange and eerie chill rose at the nape of Pruden’s neck and traveled across his scalp. That stern and declamatory voice rose and fell like a bird in the hushed and darkened room, like a hawk or an eagle, he thought, beating its wings against the walls until thewalls appeared to recede, disappearing altogether, and he stood in astonishment, centuries removed from Trafton, listening to a priestess speak to the gods.
When the incantations abruptly ended he felt disoriented and confused; he discovered he was sweating profusely for reasons he couldn’t understand and which his rational mind could not explain. He stole a glance at Madame Karitska and saw that her eyes were closed and her face serene. As the rituals continued he returned his attention to Madame Souffrant, but if what followed seemed to him bizarre and preposterous he didn’t smile; he was unable to forget what he had felt during the incantations, unable to forget a sense of Presences, of forces appealed to and converging.…
Luis Mendez lay like a corpse except for an occasional twitching or shouting of what sounded like obscenities. As Pruden watched, small piles of corn and peanuts and pieces of bread were distributed at certain points of his body, and just as he wondered why in hell somebody’s leftover breakfast was being heaped on Luis, two hens and a rooster were carried into the
oum’phor
and given to Madame Souffrant. She grasped the chickens, one under each arm, and held them low over Luis so that they could peck at the food on his body while at the same time she began a curious crossing and uncrossing of Luis’ arms, chanting
“Ente, te, te, tete, te …”
When the piles of corn had been reduced in size the chickens were exchanged for the rooster, and Pruden felt a stab of alarm. The angry cock left small, bloody wounds as it moved up Luis’ body, heading for his face: barely in time someone stepped forward to cover the man’s eyes. After this the cock was carried away and turned loose in the yard outside,and lighted candles began to be passed over Luis from head to foot, again weaving that same strange pattern while the incantations of
Ente, te, te, tete
rose in volume.
Abruptly Madame Souffrant became silent, moved to a basin, gathered up liquid in cupped hands, and vigorously slapped Luis’ face. Others moved in and began to thrash Luis with water; he was helped to a half-sitting position and whipped with small, dripping wet sacks until the bandages fell away from his dripping body. Cloves of garlic were thrust into his mouth while Madame Souffrant continued to call on the dead spirits to depart, her voice rising to a crescendo.
Suddenly Luis shuddered violently from head to foot and fell back on the earth almost unconscious.
Madame Souffrant ceased her incantations and leaned over him. “Luis,” she called. “Luis Mendez. Luis, is it you?”
“Yes,” he said in a calm and normal voice.
“I think the dead spirits are leaving now,” whispered Madame Karitska, her eyes bright and intent.
A jar filled with something alcoholic was poured over a stone lying in a dish, and flames sprang up. The steaming dish was carried to Luis and passed over his body, again describing that same intricate pattern of movement, after which Madame Souffrant put it down, seized a bottle of fluid, lifted it to her lips, drank from it several times, and each time spat it through her teeth over Luis.
“We move out
A strange and eerie chill rose at the nape of Pruden’s neck and traveled across his scalp. That stern and declamatory voice rose and fell like a bird in the hushed and darkened room, like a hawk or an eagle, he thought, beating its wings against the walls until thewalls appeared to recede, disappearing altogether, and he stood in astonishment, centuries removed from Trafton, listening to a priestess speak to the gods.
When the incantations abruptly ended he felt disoriented and confused; he discovered he was sweating profusely for reasons he couldn’t understand and which his rational mind could not explain. He stole a glance at Madame Karitska and saw that her eyes were closed and her face serene. As the rituals continued he returned his attention to Madame Souffrant, but if what followed seemed to him bizarre and preposterous he didn’t smile; he was unable to forget what he had felt during the incantations, unable to forget a sense of Presences, of forces appealed to and converging.…
Luis Mendez lay like a corpse except for an occasional twitching or shouting of what sounded like obscenities. As Pruden watched, small piles of corn and peanuts and pieces of bread were distributed at certain points of his body, and just as he wondered why in hell somebody’s leftover breakfast was being heaped on Luis, two hens and a rooster were carried into the
oum’phor
and given to Madame Souffrant. She grasped the chickens, one under each arm, and held them low over Luis so that they could peck at the food on his body while at the same time she began a curious crossing and uncrossing of Luis’ arms, chanting
“Ente, te, te, tete, te …”
When the piles of corn had been reduced in size the chickens were exchanged for the rooster, and Pruden felt a stab of alarm. The angry cock left small, bloody wounds as it moved up Luis’ body, heading for his face: barely in time someone stepped forward to cover the man’s eyes. After this the cock was carried away and turned loose in the yard outside,and lighted candles began to be passed over Luis from head to foot, again weaving that same strange pattern while the incantations of
Ente, te, te, tete
rose in volume.
Abruptly Madame Souffrant became silent, moved to a basin, gathered up liquid in cupped hands, and vigorously slapped Luis’ face. Others moved in and began to thrash Luis with water; he was helped to a half-sitting position and whipped with small, dripping wet sacks until the bandages fell away from his dripping body. Cloves of garlic were thrust into his mouth while Madame Souffrant continued to call on the dead spirits to depart, her voice rising to a crescendo.
Suddenly Luis shuddered violently from head to foot and fell back on the earth almost unconscious.
Madame Souffrant ceased her incantations and leaned over him. “Luis,” she called. “Luis Mendez. Luis, is it you?”
“Yes,” he said in a calm and normal voice.
“I think the dead spirits are leaving now,” whispered Madame Karitska, her eyes bright and intent.
A jar filled with something alcoholic was poured over a stone lying in a dish, and flames sprang up. The steaming dish was carried to Luis and passed over his body, again describing that same intricate pattern of movement, after which Madame Souffrant put it down, seized a bottle of fluid, lifted it to her lips, drank from it several times, and each time spat it through her teeth over Luis.
“We move out
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