I feel their anger for a moment, those men whom I consider family. I can almost see their faces. There is another’s anger seeping through, and it causes the darkness to flicker. I see grasslands and a morning sky. A young girl sits on a cream colored stone, her eyes searching the horizon as sadness fills them.

“FATHER!” Her young voice cries out as the vision fades. I feel a warm, rough hand slide over my cheek as the light begins to fade. I see bright green eyes and a lolling tongue in my mind. ‘That’s why we have you, bloodhound. Blood.’ I chuckle, sending the thought as the darkness descends.

I hope it reaches him. A new rage slams into me and with it comes pain. My body bows from it, I am suspended by it, floating in a sea of pain. I’m lost in it, as it goes on. It disappears, and I cry out in relief.

“You should mind your own business, little girl.” A deep, gravelly voice echoes in the dark abyss. “I must find a fitting punishment for you.” My heart pounds at the darkness in his words. I feel warm breath across my neck as words I don’t understand are whispered into my ear.

I come to slowly, heat, humidity, and the sounds of my childhood confusing me, making me feel safe. I’m far from safe. It’s night in the swamp. Blinking from the bright flare of a fire coming to life, I look around. People surround me, faces marked with white ash, feather and bone necklaces around their necks. Hoodoo but twisted, their cloudy eyes mark them as zombies. Dark magic has brought them here.

So focused am I on the fire, drums, and the pounding of the feet, I don’t notice I’m tied until it’s too late. My heart pounds as a dark figure moves into the light. Kalfu, the worst of the Petro Loa. Grand-mere warned me many times to never call him. He is the loa that is most dangerous and unpredictable. Pulling at the restraints, I try to calm my mind.

My gaze whips around the circle, before landing back on Kalfu. His sharp-toothed grin tells me I’m right. There is no Mambo or Houngan here to control him or his hungers. Shivering under his intense stare, I try to think of how I can get out of here before something awful happens.

He is clothed in a red suit, and his cane in his hand twirls through his fingers as he watches me. The chants continue, and I grit my teeth. This is all wrong. The zombies will let more evil into the circle with their words. He never breaks eye contact as he starts to come around the fire. I’m struck with how handsome he is, or at least in this body.

“I didn’t call you here,” I say, trying to sound unafraid. I fail.

“You didn’t have to, Bebe. The God brought me here, promising I could feed all my dark hungers.” His dark eyes are alight with excitement. “He gave me this body to do everything I want with.”

My mind fills in all the blanks, and I start to struggle more. “I plan to have my fun, and then someone else waits for you.” An eerie howl fills the night, and I jerk my head side to side, chills crawling over my body. I don’t see what made the noise but then I don’t have to. Movement on the ground catches my eye, and I glance down. Snakes are covering the damp, spongy land slithering around him, over his feet. I fucking hate snakes.

My mind runs over so many scenarios all worse than the one previous. But what walks from the darkness terrifies me. “Ah yes, here he is now. His only stipulation was that you must live, as he has his own plans for you.”

He grins over his shoulder at the nightmare that now stands to the right of the fire. Kalfu bows, pulling his deadman’s top hat off with a flourish. He bowed. Never have I heard of him showing any kind of deference to anyone, not even Legba. His behavior scares me more than the actual beast. It was not this creature that howled.

“He is Gici Awas and when I’m finally done with you, seer, he will eat your flesh while you scream.” He sounds gleeful while I fight not to scream. A low rumble pulls my eyes back to the monster staring at me with amber eyes. My mind tries to explain what I’m seeing. Huge and hairless with the body of a massive bear, and hairless. I hate those little hairless dogs, really anything hairless creeps me out. Now add saliva dripping from fangs and what looks like rotting flesh hanging from blackened claws, and I’m ready to chew my arm off to get the fuck out of here.

Kalfu moves closer, growing impatient, the handle of his cane sliding down the center of my body. I struggle as images of rape cascade through my mind. His breath stinks of rum as he draws near. Inhaling deeply, he sighs, another smile creeping over his face. “You smell delicious.”

Not good or wonderful, no, delicious, like food. I swallow and stiffen as his hot tongue runs down my neck, my skin on fire everywhere it touches. I want to scream but I lock it inside. Creatures like this love fear, feed on it. I’m terrified but I won’t voice it. My mouth opens wide in a silent scream as his teeth tear into my skin, ripping muscle and tendon loose at the junction of my neck and shoulder. The sounds of his gulps echo through the trees as the zombies fall silent. Fire streaks through my veins, his poison seeping into to me. Black dots cloud my vision, and I hear a growl from a far off distance and then the deep, agonizing draws on my blood and bone stops. The last thing I see is his teeth and mouth stained with my blood, a piece of my skin is caught in one of those teeth. My eyes widen at the horror one second before I slip into darkness.

I welcome it this time, my fear of nothing nowhere near as great as my fear of what is to come. I try not to think of what is coming. Instead I pull at my memories, drawing those I love around me. Too soon, I find myself back in the swamp. The dried blood on my skin cracks as I turn my head, trying to find him. I wish I hadn’t. He’d moved on to the poor people trapped as zombies, but his head whips my direction at my movement.

He saunters my way, using the deep walnut cane to shove bodies out of his path. “Feeling better?” My neck is throbbing and my blood feels molten in my veins, so no, not feeling better. I don’t answer, and his eyes narrow. His hand moves toward me in a blur, and I brace for the impact but instead I feel a chunk of my scalp tear loose.

He moves slower now that he has what he wants. I grimace at the hair gripped in his hand. He has blood and hair, now he needs just one more thing. Flicking his finger, he unties one of my hands, his magic pulling it out in front of me. I fight to keep it closed, but one by one, my fingers straighten. “You know what I need.” His words are ominous, mismatched to his happy tone.

This time, I do scream. And scream. His magic strips the flesh from my fingers, peeling them like tomatoes, mouth cleaning the bones as I scream more. Why don’t I pass out? Please, pass out. It takes no time, it seems, for the bones to be picked clean. All that’s left is for him to pull them loose. He does, and I’m left with a hand that is only a thumb and palm. Blood drips steadily on the ground. As I watch him, he scoops black ash from the fire, coating the bones, turning them black. Next, he binds them with my hair, rubbing the blood over the doll.

My skin crawls, my hand almost forgotten as I focus on the black voodoo doll. It terrifies me. No one makes a solid black one unless they plan to do the darkest magic -- death magic, blood magic -- and that doll is me.

I’ve made a doll of bright colored yarns before, trying to help a friend find love. I’ve seen others use them to hex those that they feel have wronged them. But no one has ever used a black one. The combination of the black doll and the blood can only mean suffering for me. I look at Gici Awas. No death for me, at least not until the creature grows tired of waiting.