Red Angel

haired black man dressed in a white shirt. Martinez leaned in close to Devlin and nodded toward the picture.

“It is a picture of Plante Firme’s teacher,” he whispered. “Before Plante Firme he was the greatest palero ever to have lived, a holder of great magical power. It is said that his bones are the dead one in Plante Firme’s nganga, and that when he dies, Plante Firme has decreed that his own bones will join those of his teacher to create the most powerful nganga that has ever existed.”

Using a long taper, Plante Firme ignited the candle, then took up a seven-foot stick, forked at the top into five branches, each at least a foot long. He placed a straw hat, festooned with green feathers, on his bald head, so he now resembled the cloth doll atop the nganga. Slowly, he lowered his bulky body onto a wide stool, wooden staff in hand, like some primitive potentate.

Martinez handed Adrianna the bottle of rum he had taken from his car. “This is an offering to Oggun, the god of the nganga,” he whispered.

Adrianna seemed momentarily confused, then bent forward and placed the bottle before the candle.

Plante Firme pointed to the cast-iron bell.

“You must ring the bell to awaken Oggun,” Martinez whispered.

Adrianna did so, the loud clanging sound almost deafening in the small room.

Plante Firme’s voice rumbled, low and sonorous, in a mixture of Spanish and Bantu.

“Vamo a hacer un registro con los obis. Y creo que le oi a Planta Firme tambien decir parte do esto a continuacion.”

“He is informing us that he wishes to make a consulta with the coconuts,” Martinez explained. “But first he must pray to the god Eleggua, because nothing can happen unless you first ask Eleggua, who opens and closes all roads.”

The palero ignited a second, smaller candle, set on a white saucer before a statue of the god Eleggua, and his voice rumbled forth again.

“Omi tutu Eleggua.” He dipped a hand into the bowl of water and sprinkled the statue.

“He gives fresh water to Eleggua,” Martinez whispered.

“Ana tutu. Tutu Alaroye.”

“In his moyurbaciones, his prayers, he asks for fresh relations with the dead one, if Eleggua will remove all disagreements.”

“Eleggua, ile mo ku e o.”

“‘In your care I leave my home.’ Senorita Mendez must now say ‘A kue e ye,’ which means, ‘We greet you.’”

Adrianna repeated the chant.

“Eleggua, mo du e o,” Plante Firme said, resuming his chant, and instructing Adrianna to again chant her response.

“They are telling Eleggua that they trust him completely,” Martinez whispered.

“Ariku, baba wa.” Plante Firme’s voice rumbled out the words.

“He says, ‘Health, Father, come,’” Martinez whispered. “Now Senorita Mendez must say ‘Akuana.’ This is like saying amen to the prayer.”

Plante Firme raised one arm, holding it high above his head. “Yu sow mo bi.” He lowered his arm.

“He says, ‘Come in.’ Now we will ask the dead one.”

Plante Firme’s voice bellowed out into the room. “La fo!”

Martinez lowered his eyes. “He is casting out the last of all unexpected evil,” Martinez whispered. “Now we may begin.”

Plante Firme turned to Adrianna. telling her that she could now consult the nganga, but only with questions that could be answered with a yes or a no. As Martinez translated, she asked if they would be able to find her aunt.

Plante Firme picked up a leather pouch and withdrew seven coin-shaped pieces of coconut shell, the concave portions painted white, the convex stained with a black dye. Again, he chanted in a low, rumbling voice, then cast four of the shells on the floor. When they rolled to a stop, all four came to rest with the white, concave sides facing up.

“Alafia,” Plante Firme said, nodding.

“This means the answer is yes, good news,” Martinez said. “But not conclusive. More must be asked.”

Adrianna lowered her eyes. Devlin could see her lip tremble.

“Has my aunt’s body been placed in a nganga?” Her voice was barely audible, as if she did not want to hear the question as well as the answer.

Again, Plante Firme cast the shells. This time all four black convex sides pointed up. The palero stared at the shells and drew a deep breath.

“Oyekun,” Martinez said. “It means the dead man wants to speak. Now Plante Firme must ask the questions. Only he can speak directly when the dead one asks to talk.”

Plante Firme rumbled forth with a heavy mix of Bantu.

Martinez shook his head. “It is too complex. I do not understand the question,” he whispered.

Again the shells were thrown. When they stopped rolling, three convex sides faced up.

Now Martinez drew a long breath. “Ocana,” he whispered. “The answer from the dead man is no. Something is wrong, or has happened, or was done. It is needed some ebbo, some offerings.”

Plante Firme opened the bottle of rum that had been given to the god Oggun, drank deeply, then sprayed the rum onto the nganga. Then he spoke again to the dead man, a long, rambling question, almost exclusively in Bantu. Only the word Santiago was in Spanish. Again he cast the coconuts. This time two of each side faced up.

“Eyife,” Martinez said, his voice excited. “This is a conclusive yes. The dead one has told the palero what must be done.”

The palero lowered his eyes, then slowly picked up the shells and returned them to the pouch. When he raised his eyes, his face seemed heavy with concern. Martinez translated as he spoke.

“He says it is as he feared. The palero of the Abakua has the body you seek. You must go to Santiago de Cuba and confront him. But before you go there, you must go to the cemetery where Maria Mendez was to be buried. There, if the words of the dead one are true, you will find that earth has been removed from the four corners of the grave. You must take handfuls of dirt from each of these places, and carry it with you. Only this will protect you from the palero, and the dead one he has created. Only in this way will you learn the truth. The palero you seek is called Baba Briyumbe.”

The palero reached out to the nganga and withdrew a red feather attached to a gnarled stick and handed it to Adrianna. He spoke again.

“The feather must be placed with the earth and carried at all times,” Martinez translated. “It will create a charm that comes from the dead one, and from a power greater than Baba Briyumbe. Only this will protect against the evil of Baba Briyumbe.”

Plante Firme rose, leaned his staff against the wall, and removed his feathered hat.

“You should make an offering,” Martinez said.

Devlin was momentarily confused, his mind filled with visions of earth from a grave and bright red feathers.

“Money,” Martinez said. “An offering to the palero for his work.”

Devlin reached into his pocket and withdrew some folded currency. He took a twenty-dollar bill from the top and glanced at Martinez for some indication it was enough. Martinez nodded.

“Place it on the floor, before the nganga,” the major instructed.

Devlin did so.

“Now you must ring the bell.”

Devlin’s jaw tightened. He felt like a fool, but did as he was told. Again, the sound of the iron bell filled the room. When Devlin stood, Plante Firme placed a meaty hand on his shoulder, nodded his approval, and spoke again