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The design was a veve, a ritual symbol, used in a ceremony to call up a loa, an
occupying spirit. This was not the well-known veve of Papa Legba (which Marla had
even seen on the occasional T-shirt), not did it belong to any of the better-known gods
of Voudon, like Baron Samedi or Maitre Carrefour or Damballah. This was the veve of
a minor spirit, one of the Guede, a loa of sexual passion. When summoned, a loa would
take over the body of one of its worshippers, using it to communicate and satisfy
corporeal desires (many of the loas were gluttons for rum and candy); the loa signified
by this particular design would push its adherents to acts of sexual excess and
gratification, and gain power from the mass coupling (and tripling, and quadrupling, and
so on). Having the design in a gate wouldn’t actually call up the loa—the ceremony was
more complicated than that—but as a design choice, it was certainly suggestive. Marla
now had a pretty good idea what kind of sorcerer Finch was. Marla herself was a
general practitioner when it came to magic; Hamil sometimes called her a brute-forceomancer.
Many sorcerers chose to specialize to a greater or lesser degree, however,
becoming necromancers, pyromancers, diviners, aviomancers, biomancers,
technomancers—all with their own strengths and weaknesses, all with their signature
obsessions.
From the design on the gate, Marla suspected Finch was—at least in part—a sexual
magician. What Marla had always somewhat contemptuously referred to as a
“pornomancer.” Her own first teacher, Artie Mann, had been a pornomancer, though of
an unconventional sort. It was actually a relief to discover this about Finch—
pornomancers weren’t known for their offensive capabilities, though it wouldn’t do to
underestimate Finch, and she was just making assumptions based on an odd homedesign
choice.
The woman in velvet emerged, opened the gate, and beckoned the next four people—
including Marla and Rondeau—inside.
Sexual excess was not immediately apparent. Once inside the dim foyer, Marla and
Rondeau joined the same people they’d been waiting in line with outside. By standing
on tiptoe and looking over the heads of the people in front of her, Marla could see a
woman standing at a counter as if tending a ticket booth. She was handing people
clipboards, and retrieving clipboards from people who were finished filling out some
kind of form.
“What, we have to sell our souls to get into this party?” Rondeau said.
“I guess so,” Marla said.
“It’d better be a pretty good party, then. I like to get full value for my soul.”
“Full value for your soul wouldn’t get you a cup of coffee at a convenience store,”
Marla said, but her heart wasn’t in the banter; she’d suddenly realized what kind of
party this probably was. She had to admire the Chinatown sorcerer for sending her here
with a straight face.
The line moved forward, and the people who were finished with their clipboards went
down a short hallway and turned right into another room. Marla and Rondeau each took
a clipboard, which contained a sheet of paper printed with a set of rules and disclaimers,