Dead to Her(36)

Heat. That’s what Marcie felt as Keisha led her farther into the steadily growing throng of people. Somewhere up ahead, the bonfire had been lit and as it blazed, the air was becoming an acrid mist hanging low. A passing man with short bleached hair and wide trippy eyes lined with black kohl that was harsh against his white skin grinned as he refilled their cups, shouting, “Drink to old John Bayou! Tonight is his night!”

An elbow dug into Marcie’s back as dancers jostled for space, and she tugged at Keisha, nodding her forward to where there was more space. Yes, it was near the bonfire so they’d be hot, but at least they’d be able to breathe. The music had gotten louder and more energetic and the dancers, sweaty faced and slick backed, were happily keeping up. Thank God Keisha didn’t look like she wanted to join in either. In fact, she was frowning slightly, peering off to her right.

“You okay?” Marcie leaned in and shouted.

Keisha nodded. “I just thought I saw . . .” She paused and then shook her head, her face smoothing out. “Nothing. Just all this smoke getting in my eyes.”

Marcie took the lead and pulled her out of the heaving crowd to a small space at the edge of the clearing. She was happy to see a proper tarmacked path leading out of it on this side, and the trees didn’t look as dense farther up that way. At least they could get out of here easily enough when they wanted to.

They’d gotten off the improvised dance floor at the right time. A fresh tune was playing and it had brought everyone onto the grass. Marcie didn’t recognize the heavy beat, but as several of the party-goers jumped up and down shouting “Dansé Calinda!” along with the chorus, it was hard not to be swept along by the energy, the freedom of it. Faces loomed out of the smoke, smiling and damp, as they bounced and twisted in the air.

“This is crazy!” Marcie said.

“Yeah, like some awful rave. But kind of fun. We just need some pills.”

It was different for Keisha. She’d probably had heaps of nights like this back in London. Wild parties. Nightclubs. Marcie hadn’t been to a club in what felt like forever. Definitely not since she’d been with Jason. It felt a little overwhelming. She wasn’t sure she belonged here. She wasn’t sure where she belonged anymore. She drank back half her cup and then coughed at the burn.

“Take it easy,” Keisha said, laughing. “I don’t want you throwing up all night again.” Her face was radiant in the firelight and Marcie couldn’t stop looking at her. Her blood fizzed and her face flushed, warmth flooding through her. What was it about this woman that fascinated her so much? What was she being drawn into?

“What do you want me doing all night instead?” she murmured. She trembled slightly and the noise around her dimmed as if she were underwater, only Keisha there with her.

“You know what I want,” Keisha said, the fragility breaking the surface of her glorious confidence for a moment. For a moment they simply gazed at each other, eyes locked, unable to break away. It was intense. Too intense. Part of Marcie wanted to run like a frightened rabbit, back to safety, back to her dull life with her middle-aged husband. Her husband who lied and made middle-of-the-night secret calls and who was always in a bad mood in their big house with their rich friends. No, she would not run. Not tonight. Not in this night that made her feel as if anything was possible. She reached for Keisha’s face, once again pulling her close.

The heat of the fire was nothing next to the heat of the kiss, burning slow and soft and deliberate. Keisha let out a moan, pressing her body into Marcie’s, and Marcie was sure she was melting. Everything was too hot. There were too many people around. But she couldn’t stop herself. After a second, Keisha pulled back, her eyes as glazed as Marcie’s own must have been, and glanced around. Was she worried about being seen by someone too? “Maybe we should—”

Suddenly the music stopped and instantly everyone around them stilled, the sudden silence almost deafening.

“What the fuck?” Keisha muttered. Briefly, there was nothing, not even a breath, and then a slow drumbeat started. First a solitary thud, before more joined in, the sound coming from all around them, drummers hidden in the woods, as if the forest itself were letting its heart be heard. The frozen dancers were staring at the bonfire, eyes wide with expectation.

“Look,” Keisha breathed beside her. Marcie did. There must have been a platform of some kind behind the blazing fire, because three figures emerged, looking as if they were rising up behind the flames and hovering there. Marcie frowned, her eyes trying to focus. It couldn’t be. The central figure stepped forward and as she came into view, the drums stopped. The whole crowd gasped as two men threw dust on the pyre, sending searing multicolored sparks high into the air, fireworks bright, and Marcie flinched, momentarily blinded, spots in her vision. But still she was sure she was right. It was. It was her.





25.

Keisha stared, her mouth slightly open, even Marcie forgotten. It couldn’t be a coincidence, could it? No. Auntie Ayo’s voice was bell clear in her head. It’s in your blood. It will always find you, KeKe, for good or bad.

“It’s her,” Marcie murmured beside her, and all Keisha could do was nod. The tall, fat, ancient woman, framed by the sparkling flames, took another step and the bright umber of her hair made it look as if she were atop a pyre and burning alive in the night.