Tempter by Nancy A. Collins Page A

elbow. “I swear, folks expect the spirit world to be like those damn movies they rent on Netflix! Of course you didn’t see nothin’! Why do you think they call them Les Invisibles? Besides, you don’t need to see ‘em to know they’re there. The Loa live through you, whether you like it or not. You’re their conduit to the material world: they are the Divine Horsemen, and you are the horse.”
    “You’re saying that I was possessed while I was asleep?”
    “Maybe. Or maybe it was a Guede , instead of a Loa. Or maybe it was just something you ate.” Tee snuggled closer, grinding her hips against him. Rossiter felt himself grow hard and all thoughts of vévés and the spirit world abruptly vanished from his mind.
    At least for the next twenty minutes.
    Tempter was excited.
    His agitation could not be divined by any physical means, for such things do not exist in the place between places. Although he possessed a corporeal body, it had been years—perhaps decades—since he last inhabited it. It was not that he disliked the physical realm: far from it. He had been forced into limbo as a means to preserve his energies. Still, even here he was a prisoner, as the cursed vévé were quick to remind him.
    His warders were deceptively quiet right now, their configuration almost transparent. But Tempter knew better than to think they were gone. The moment he should try to leave, they would flare to life once more, burning him with their heatless light. He had allowed his eagerness to overwhelm his caution earlier and had paid the price.
    Still, he could be excused his enthusiasm. He had been waiting for someone to find the book. He hoped he had not frightened away his prey. It was very important that it come back. Tempterwas uncertain as to whether his prey was male or female, but its hunger was all too visible. And that was all he needed to know, really.
    He had been waiting a long time. There was no hurry. He could afford to be patient. Once his prey returned, he would shape his bait to mirror its need. And then he would reel the prey in close enough to grab it.
    The vévé made excellent guards. His nemesis had been correct about that. They were good at keeping him inside. But when it came to keeping others out, that was another story…

Je-Rouge
    There is a panther caged within my breast,
    But what his name there is no breast shall know
    Save mine, nor what it is that drives him so,
    Backward and forward, in relentless quest.
    —John Hall Wheelock, The Black Panther

Chapter Seven
    Tee had been unsure, at first, about Rossiter photocopying the book, but she finally relented after he fucked her three times in a row.
    It had taken some doing, but he had succeeded in enlarging the mandala from the book into a poster-sized duplicate. Rossiter spread it across his hide-a-bed, careful not to crinkle it. He then dragged a stepladder from the closet and carefully tacked the poster onto the ceiling over his bed. Now he was free to lie back and study the elaborate arabesques at the pattern’s heart whenever he felt like it.
    During his previous delving into enlightenment, Rossiter had never once experienced anything remotely mystical. Instead, he had attained chronic light-headedness following the Hare Krishna regimen of macrobiotic food and mantras, but that was hardly the same as what he had seen the other night.
    Rossiter kicked off his shoes and collapsed across his bed, frowning up at the ceiling. He wondered if he needed to observe some kind of ritual before attempting to go inside the mandala? Tee was always talking about the importance of rituals and their attendant symbolism. His eyes traced the twists and turns inside the design...
    Something was attempting to enter the place between places. Tempter could feel it pushing against the membrane that separated the planes, stretching it like a toy balloon. He tensed, trying to keep his agitation veiled from his warders. If the vévés sensed activity on his part, they