The Darkness of Matter

The Darkness of Matter: Chapter 8

Celia woke Sophie in the pre-dawn hours, a pot of mud under her arm. "Get up," said the old housekeeper brusquely, "Crenshaw says the tides are as decent as they'll get for the crossing. I have to prepare you." 

Still groggy, Sophie let Celia sit her in a chair where she squeezed squiggles of dark brown mud onto Sophie's arms and legs using a waxed cone paper. "What's this for?" The cool mud tingled on Sophie's skin. 

"Henna. It needs at least forty minutes to set. Two hours would be ideal but we don't have the time. Don't move." 

Sophie stared bemused at the intricate designs. The patterns tugged vaguely at the corners of her mind, tapping hidden knowledge. She said slowly, like a child spelling out a hard word, "Signs of protection, of prayer." 

Celia shot her a hard look and whipped out a hair dryer from the bathroom. "Indeed. You may need it." 

The roar of the hairdryer made further conversation impossible. Celia concentrated on applying the heat to the mud. Sophie realized that the woman was extremely tense. She leaned forward. "Hey," she said gently, "is everything okay?" 

Celia shook her hair back impatiently. "I am fine. It is you I worry for. The crossing is hard, child." 

Sophie frowned. He'd never mentioned that the passage might be perilous. "Is the crossing it dangerous[H1]?" 

"I've never attempted it," Celia replied evasively, "so I couldn't say." 

Sophie frowned. That hardly sounded reassuring. "Do you think I should stay here?" 

Celia sighed, deflating for a moment. Then her usual crispness returned. She said decisively, "I don't think you have a choice. Every moment you stay here, the danger grows. You must go while you still can." She pressed her lips together and refused to say anything more. 

The drive to the landing strip took less than forty minutes with Frye at the wheel. Sophie sat gingerly as the drying mud cracked on her skin, sending flakes to the floor. The mud wasn't dry yet when they arrived. 

The landing strip was little more than a strip of asphalt, bordered by grass. Sophie half expected to see cows on either side. As they pulled up, a slender figure with a white blaze of hair and sunglasses came out to greet them. His skin was so pale that the veins seemed to stand out beneath them; he was an albino. 

"Morning, Aidan," said the magician, swinging his legs out. 

"Morning." Sophie felt a mild electric shock as Aidan's eyes ran dismissively over her to rest on Celia, eyes widened. She had the impression that the young man disliked her intensely. He said to Celia, "You too?" 

"Oh, I'm not coming," said Celia with a chuckle. "Not so brave then, nor now. " 

"The mist will pick and choose," said Aidan seriously. "But you, you are the priestess of the mami wata. It would let you through." 

Celia ignored him. She made the men wait while she brushed the dried henna off Sophie's hands. The mud was not thoroughly dried yet, and some of it smeared. Still, the marks it left on Sophie's skin were clear enough: intricate, multi-layered designs that seemed to crawl on their own as she gazed at them. "Not great," said Celia critically, as she inspected the lines it had left, "but it'll do." 

Crenshaw said tiredly, "It's fine, Celia. It only has to get us through the Barrier," to which Celia sniffed, not necessarily in a reassuring way 

"Here, child." Celia lifted her shell necklace over her head and placed it around Sophie's neck. "With my blessing. Take the Mami Wata back." She kissed Sophie on both cheeks.