Voodoo Queens of New Orleans - Vol. I | ✓

Chapter 33: Who We Come From

I dried off, dressed in what Aza left me to wear which was a long, blue cotton dress of hers, and exited the bathroom. Aza was waiting on her bed for me. When I appeared, she immediately told me to sit at her desk.

"Lemme see your arm," she said to me. I held it out to her, watching as she examined my wound. I hissed when she touched it.

"Sorry," she said.

"It's alright," I assured her - the first words I had said in hours.

Aza reached over and grabbed a stone mortar and pestle from across her large desk. Opening the cabinet above the desk, she brought down three bottles labeled in a language I didn't know; the letters looked ancient. One bottle was brown, the other two were a deep burgundy. Then, she got up and ripped leaves from two plants by her window that overlooked the garden. She carried them gently back to her seat, placing them in the mortar, and poured liquid from each of the bottles on top of the leaves. As she sealed the wooden top on the last bottle, she began to ground everything in the mortar with the pestle, using all her strength. This went on for a while; she didn't stop until everything resulted in a thick, dark green paste.

"This gone hurt a little," she warned, but 'little' was an understatement. The moment she scooped the paste onto her hands and onto my wound, the burning pain raced through my entire arm. I gritted my teeth and tried to power through it as best as I could as she rubbed the concoction deep into my laceration. It pained her to see how much it hurt me.

"I'm sorry, baby," she said to me.

"I'm fine," I assured. Gradually, the pain began to reside. Aza continued to massage my arm with the paste in silence. I looked at her do this until she met my eyes. She sighed.

"She told you," Aza said. I averted my eyes to the other side of her room, staring at the charms. "You know that it don't mean it's gone happen to you."

"How do any of you know that?" I said, fatigue starting to wear in as my eyes became heavy. "Aza, I heard her. She was in my head. She smacked a match out of my damn hand. These spirits? It's clear that they're powerful and angry. Look what they did to Sajida? Look what they're doing to Mama?"

"Because they let them in," Aza said. "They both let these spirits in, invited them in, and now look? They got a hold on them. You can't be trying to mess with your met tet 'cause you don't know what type of lwa they be."

"I haven't messed with my met tet," I argued. "I don't even know who she is. But she's clearly trying to come into contact with me; she must be one of Marie's family members that Abraham or Terah killed. She has to be."

"Lisa-"

"What if she was killed by one of the Elders?" My blood runs cold at the mere thought that comes to mind. "Aza, what if Hezekiah killed her -"

"Lisa!" Aza exclaimed. Her hand was firm on my arm but no longer moving. I stiffened in my seat; her expression was suddenly bothered. "Don't be conjuring up no nonsense like that."

I waited expectantly for Aza to continue grilling me, but she caught herself instead.

"I...sorry," she stammered. "I didn't mean to...yell."

"No, you're right," I said, eyeing her. "I'm just...shaken, still. I don't know what I'm saying. "

Aza wore a sympathetic look before resuming her work on her arm. There was a comforting warmth on my skin before she was finished. I looked down to find the wound nothing more than a faint scar, the pain gone. She grabbed a towel and wiped the excess off my arm. I thanked her, a bit wary of our previous episode.

"Come on," she got up, smiling down encouragingly at me. "Let's go downstairs."

I got up to follow Aza, marveling at my arm. As we left the room, my eyes were enamored by a portrait on top of Aza's dresser. It was a small photo, trapped in a gold frame. It was old and dated, but the woman pictured was young. She was beautiful, this woman - calm face and gentle eyes, hair tied up with ribbons and bows. I stared for a long time - long enough for me to remember where I had said the same comments about the same photo I had seen before. My eyebrows furrowed as I continued to stare; I had definitely seen that photo before, and it took me a moment to remember where.

Come on, child. You'll get it.

She was back, but I wasn't alarmed. I was focused on the photo, trying to remember. And I continued to stare until I remembered.

Hezekiah had this exact same photo in his locket - the one that I found at the Jubilee while it was burning down.

Your Mama ain't the only one with secrets, the spirit said to me seriously.

**