Voodoo Queens of New Orleans - Vol. I | ✓

Chapter 55: The Council (Part II)

"For you to look in the mirror, Alize. You turning more and more into Mama every day."

Mama scoffed, "Hush up about that 'Mama' nonsense. If anything, you more her out of the both of us. Look at you. An evil witch. Evil. Not a good bone left in your body and I know that more than anybody here."

Sajida rolled her eyes. And figuring that getting through to Sajida was a lost cause, Mama brought her attention back to me.

"I'm giving you one last chance, Lisa. Leave. Right now."

"Or what?" I replied. "You gonna lock me up for the third time?"

My tone was icy and uncaring, reflective of how my heart felt towards my mother. I saw her as nothing but a deranged woman too afraid of the truth, even when it was already gaining up on her. She knew how powerful I was; the three of them—Aza, Mama, and Sajida—all knew what I was capable of. But I didn't. Not yet. However, I was getting closer to this epiphany, and the three of them felt very differently about this.

Mama was completely speechless, whereas Sajida cooed and stifled a laugh at my remark. As the air began to become as cold as my disposition, we were approached by none other than a couple of the Council's members—Russell and Sylvia.

Mama composed herself as if our conversation never happened and put on a happy face in their presence. Aza tried to follow, but it was a half-assed attempt; when she looked at them, all she saw were the monsters responsible for almost killing Doctor Ben.

"Hope we aren't interrupting anything," Sylvia said, smiling cordially. I knew this was bullshit; they were eavesdropping before deciding to come over.

"Not at all," Mama replied. At this time, the rest of the Coterie had joined the group; the moment the Council approached us, they removed themselves from their secluded corner and joined their sisters in support. Sylvia chuckled at this, then shrugged it off. Russell could care less. In fact, he was more interested in me than in the fact that the Coterie increased their numbers out of distrust.

"Ladies," Russell said to us. "You all look beautiful tonight. Again, I'm glad you could make it."

We just smiled in response. No one said a word; the air was tense.

Soon after, a few of Russell's friends came forward and introduced themselves to us—two gentlemen and a woman. They were very polite, but there was something about the look in their eyes after every bow and curtsey that ensued; they looked like it hurt to be nice.

"My, I've always loved those little scarves y'all got on your heads," the woman, whose name was Georgina, said to all of us. Her smile was uncomfortably bright, and her strawberry blonde hair looked fried. "So pretty!"

"It's called a tignon," Aza said, making Georgina laugh uncomfortably.

"Oh," she said. "Right. Well, I remember way back in the day when all the 'colored' women would be walking around the street wearing them. Especially the girls dancing with them on in Congo Square. Adam, you remember those colored girls?"

I saw Mambo Nene slowly look to Mama with a grimace on her face before turning back to face Georgina, who looked confused at the silence that came after.

"Georgina, we don't say 'colored' no more," Adam whispered to her.

"Really?" She frowned, then began to laugh. "Well, then. What do we say?"

"People of color," Sylvia said matter-of-factly. "Or African American. 'Colored' is...outdated."

I wanted to roll my eyes, for even Sylvia didn't believe the words coming out of her mouth.