The Jumbies: Chapters 14–22

The brothers were showing off the red hills where they lived; the ground rose sharply and the rocks were often loose, making it just treacherous enough to keep most of the island out.

Bouki and Corinne ran to the top of a high rocky ridge. Bouki ran nimbly over the uneven surface.

“Impossible!” Corinne said with a laugh. Her laugh echoed around the valley, and the witch looked around, trying to pinpoint where it had come from.

Dru and the brothers took a step back, looking at each other with wary eyes, but Corinne had nowhere to go.

“They don’t see me as family,” the jumbie muttered. “They only see each other.” She seethed. “They will never accept me.”

“What would she want with a scrawny little thing like you?”
“I don’t know. I only need to know how to get rid of her.”

The witch avoided the girls’ stares as she shook her head. Her sparse white braids tossed. “I’m sorry. There is nothing I can do.”

Dru took an orange from Corinne’s basket and threw it at the old woman. The witch made a deft catch with her good hand.

The nets were dry and neatly gathered in the prow of the boat, the way they were every morning before he cast off.

She continued to hum something low and lilting to make Pierre feel sleepy.

When Corinne looked up, she saw that Severine’s face had narrowed, her nose and mouth protruded slightly like an animal’s, and her arms looked as brittle and thin as sticks.

Severine stared at the necklace, and her mouth slackened as if surprised. In that moment of hesitation, Corinne saw her chance. She threw her body at Severine, hoping to knock her down.

The white witch hobbled into her little hut on the mud island at the center of the swamp.

She pierced the skin with one long, yellow fingernail, and peeled the orange, savoring the smell that burst out of its skin. It was a beautiful thing—bright, pungent, and resilient.

She pierced the skin with one long, yellow fingernail, and peeled the orange, savoring the smell that burst out of its skin. It was a beautiful thing—bright, pungent, and resilient.

She pierced the skin with one long, yellow fingernail, and peeled the orange, savoring the smell that burst out of its skin. It was a beautiful thing—bright, pungent, and resilient.

“Her father would not want her in there,” Victor said gruffly.

Hugo was big enough to knead stone into bread, but his large arms laid out a pair of delicate pastries on a counter and covered them gently with a white cloth.

Malik dashed in, faster than Corinne had ever seen him move. He lifted the cloth and grabbed the pastries, then dashed back out as soundlessly as a specter.

She picked an orange and went back in to slice it open and squeeze some of the juice onto her father’s parched lips.

Her eyes were huge in her gaunt face and shining with yellow light. Now the green cloth that covered her body barely reached her knees and hung in gaping panels.

Her eyes were huge in her gaunt face and shining with yellow light. Now the green cloth that covered her body barely reached her knees and hung in gaping panels.

“I was wondering how long it would take you to come back,” Severine said. “You must have missed me. But now I’m not sure I want you around pestering me anymore. You’re a lot of trouble.”

Corinne found her voice. It was raspy and soft. “What are you talking about?”

“You are a liar! I am no family of yours.” Corinne reached behind her and found the handle of the skillet. She raised it over her head and grunted as she pelted it toward the jumbie.

Severine pulled herself up to her full height. Her head bumped the ceiling. She stretched out. Her arms and face hardened like tree bark. The hair on her skin bristled.

“But if you refuse to join me,” Severine said as her muscles and her hand tightened even more, “you will be a mindless drone, just like the rest of them. Just like your father will be soon. It will be a shame for me to lose all of your wonderful talent—” Severine stopped herself.

Corinne’s skin prickled and her heart thrummed.

The bark of Severine’s face twisted into a grimace that Corinne thought was meant to be a smile.

Corinne did not like the way Severine said her mother’s name, like it was a revolting taste on her tongue.