The screams of the men were the worst.
Keisha and I held each other as Sara ravaged the livingroom. I ran through the spirits and deities in my mind hoping to get a fix on who was in her body. Who was bold enough to claim Bothwa’s offerings? For a moment, the wrinkled face of mi abuelita flashed in my mind, but I shooed away the image, not wanting to deal with her guilt trip.
“She’s coming!” Keisha squealed.
We scurried to the back of the room and that is when I noticed something terribly wrong.
We were alone. The Iwa, my ancestors, and even the tiny animal spirits that followed me home were gone.
“What’s wrong?” Keisha grabbed my arm and studied my panic stricken face. I composed myself and shoved away my fear.
“We’re going to have to fight our way out,” I said and handed her a ceremonial dagger from one of the altars. It was her turn to look panicked. She grasped the hilt and tested the heft.
“Ok,” she said quietly, accepting her death. She crossed herself, praying to her Christian god for the first time in many years. .
I turned and rummaged through the remains of my power. I grabbed a gilded machete and tucked a protection amulet into my pocket. I doused myself in holy water and half-heartedly flung a bit in Keisha’s direction. I wanted to keep the odds of survival stacked in my favor.
The lock clicked with a metallic ring and I watched in absolute terror as the door swung open to reveal the blood drenched creature that had once been Sara . I hoped it would speak so that we could perhaps bargain our way out, but there was nothing but silence.
The attack was straightforward and swift, but I had a foolproof plan. As the Sara cleared the central altar, I grabbed Keisha’s arm and flung her directly into the arms of death.