Unsympathetic Magic - Laura Resnick [127]
“Yuck,” I said.
“Snakes are beautiful, Esther,” he said earnestly. “You just have to learn how to appreciate them.”
“Whatever.”
Having learned, during his short time at the foundation, that snakes were revered in Vodou, he also felt some interest in learning more about the faith.
“Mambo Celeste cold-shouldered me about that, too,” he said. “But at least Dr. Livingston was happy to talk to me about it.”
“You mean, talk at you?” I said.
“Well, yeah,” he admitted. “She doesn’t have a sparkling personality, but she’s very knowledgeable. A person who’s willing to listen could learn a lot from her.”
While observing the sleeping snake in its glass cage downstairs, Frank had heard voices chanting in Creole. Giving in to his fledgling interest in Vodou, despite knowing the mambo would react badly if he intruded on her, he had followed the sound by walking out of the hounfour, down a narrow hallway, and toward a room at the end of the corridor.
Curious enough to risk a tongue-lashing from the mambo, he had opened the door a crack and peered inside the room.
“And the first person I saw was one of my students,” he said. “A girl named Shondolyn.”
“Shondolyn!” I cried at the same time that Max leaped from his chair.
Frank fell back a step, startled by our reaction.
“Go on!” I said.
“Go on!” said Max.
“Uh . . .” Frank looked at us a moment longer, wondering at our excitement, then continued, “I waved to her, thinking that if she was there, maybe I’d be welcome and could sit in on the service.”
Though looking directly at him, Shondolyn had not acknowledged him or waved back. That surprised him. Although prone to drowsiness and bad temper, Shondolyn was a pretty good student, and Frank felt he had developed a rapport with her. So he was puzzled that she didn’t respond to his silent greeting. As his hand motions grew bigger, it occurred to him that she wasn’t ignoring him; she didn’t see him. Her face was blank and passive as she chanted in Creole—a language, he suddenly realized, she had mentioned in class that she couldn’t understand. He also recalled that Shondolyn described herself as a good Christian.
Wondering what the hell this Christian girl was doing standing blank- faced in a Vodou ritual, chanting in a language she didn’t know, Frank said her name loudly.
“And that was when all hell broke loose.” He shuddered briefly before continuing his story.
Frank heard a woman shriek inarticulately on the other side of the door he was pushing open. Then the door slammed into him, hitting his head and knocking him backward into the hallway. He tripped and fell. He heard a voice inside the room, issuing orders. As he was rising to his feet, four . . .
“I guess they really were zombies?” Frank said dispiritedly.
“Yes,” said Max.
Four zombies came out of the room. They had cold, sunken skin. Their eyes were dull and unblinking. They didn’t speak, though they made some grunting noises.
“And they smelled weird,” he said.
I looked at Jeff. “I told you so.”
“Ah, how I’ve missed hearing you say those words,” said Jeff.
“How long did you two date?” asked Frank.
Jeff blinked. “Is it that obvious?”
“Oh, please,” said Frank, rolling his eyes.
“What happened next?” I asked him.
One of the zombies knocked him unconscious. When he awoke, he was outside and it was nighttime. His mouth was gagged and his hands were bound. Initially disoriented, he realized after a few minutes that he was being carried through Mount Morris Park.
“I had no idea what was going on, but I felt pretty sure they hadn’t brought me to the park after dark for a picnic,” he said. “And fear lends amazing strength to a man.”
Perhaps they hadn’t tied his feet because he was unconscious. Or maybe it was because he wasn’t a big or athletic man. In any case, he used his free legs to kick and lash out at his stiff-limbed, smelly captors. Although there were four of them, they were surprisingly slow to respond and inept at regaining control of him.
“Zombies do not