Nancy K. Duplechain - Dark Trilogy 01 - Dark Bayou

by Nancy K. Duplechain

  When I was done with the dishes, I joined everyone in the living room and took a seat on the sofa, in between Lyla and Jonathan. Lyla kept to herself. Jonathan rested his head against the arm of the sofa, his eye lids heavy.

  “Looks like someone’s ready for bed,” I said, nodding at Jonathan.

  “Ready to go, buddy?” asked Lucas. Jonathan replied with a half nod, his eyes drooping shut. We smiled.

  “Cher ‘tit bete,” said Clothilde, which meant poor little thing.

  Lucas got up, walked to the couch and scooped his son into his arms. He slung him gently over his shoulder, but Jonathan still didn’t budge. He was out cold. “Miss Clothilde, thank you so much for the supper. It was the best I’ve had in a long time.”

  “You need to take some home, like I told you!” she said in her ornery old-lady voice.

  Lucas smiled and replied, “No, ma’am. Plenty of leftovers at home. Don’t want those to go to waste.”

  Clothilde grumbled something in French and got up to kiss him on the cheek. I laughed to myself. He owned her, no doubt about that. I got up to hug Lucas goodbye. I patted Jonathan on the head and got the door for them.

  “Walk me out?” he asked me.

  “I need to put the dishes away. Be careful going home, okay?” He looked at me, a little frown working the corners of his mouth. But he looked more worried than anything. I smiled at him, trying to comfort him. I nodded, and he took the hint. He left as I turned on the porch light for him. I watched as he loaded Jonathan into his car seat and then climbed into the driver’s seat. He waved at me, and I waved back before he drove away, tail lights fading as he neared the end of the driveway.

  I closed the door and discovered that I was the only one in the living room. Clothilde had moved into the kitchen, already putting away the dishes. Lyla was long gone, probably in her room getting ready for bed. I went into the kitchen.

  “I can get those,” I said.

  “Washing them was good enough. I’ll take care of this if you want to get ready for bed.”

  I hesitated, watching her stack the plates in the cabinet. My cell buzzed once in my pocket, startling me. I got it out and checked the incoming text message. It was from Carrie. It read: wanna do something 2morrow night?

  I quickly replied back: I’ll let u know 2morrow

  She texted back: k

  Clothilde had finished the dishes and was putting out the light in the kitchen as I got Carrie’s last text. She went into the living room, and I followed her. She turned off the TV and the lamp by her recliner.

  “You going to bed?” I asked.

  “It’s past my bedtime. I can’t go no more.”

  She walked, strained, to her bedroom. I followed her in. She sat on her bed and kicked off her shoes, slipping into her pink slippers. I hung out by the door frame, feeling like a kid about to ask if Santa Claus was real. But in my case, I was hoping the mythical being in question wasn’t real at all. I think I already had my answer, but I had other questions that couldn’t wait. If I didn’t get answers, I wouldn’t be able to sleep tonight.

  “So, Father Ben said that Charlemagne could heal people, right?”

  She nodded, staring ahead at her dresser.

  “What about animals?”

  “I don’t know about that. I only know about helping people.”

  “Is that what you do? Like when you were making that … tea for Miss Ya? I mean, was that part of the healing thing? Is that your power?” I still couldn’t bring myself to say it right. It still sounded so strange to me.

  “Yes. We’re directly descended from Charlemagne,” she said, proudly. “As French Cajuns, we’ve adapted through the years, and we’re known as traiteurs now. Many of us have learned through the native Indians in the area, too.”

  “I’ve heard of that before. Isn’t that a faith healer?” She nodded. “So, you’ve been doing this long?”

  “I got started late. I didn’t choose this until twelve years ago.”

  I did some quick math in my head. “You’ve been doing this since Mom died?”

  “That was when I chose my path.”

  “What made you choose?” I moved in closer to her bed. She patted the blanket next to her. It was a dark blue quilt with intricate rose patterns stitched into it. Miss Ya had made it for her as a birthday present long before I was born. It was still in mint condition, and I couldn’t remember ever seeing her sleeping under a different quilt. I took a seat beside her.

  “This is what I’ve protected you from for so many years. All that time you were in California, I hoped that you would stay there.” I furrowed my brows, surprised to hear her say this.

  “Was it because of the way she died?” I asked, my voice barely audible.

  She glanced at me a little suspiciously. ”What do you know about that?”

  “She didn’t die of an aneurism, did she?”

  She paused for a long time. “No,” she said at last.

  “Did her death have something to do with all of this?”

  “Yes. It did. Your momma was a paladin, too. She, of course, had our abilities, and she was helping to fight Les Foncés, the Dark Ones. It was your momma, Miss Cee Cee, Father Ben and Clovis Gautreaux. Your momma asked me to help, but I didn’t want any part of it. I was … scared.” I could tell it hurt her to say that.

  “Was dad part of it, too?”

  “No. He isn’t part of the paladin blood line.”

  “Was David?”

  “Yes, but he didn’t know it, so he never had the option to choose it.” I knew that automatically made Lyla a paladin, too, but I already guessed that from her little magic act in the driveway earlier.

  “Why didn’t you tell us about this?”

  “Because it is a very secret society. No one can know about us, not even those closest to us. Not even those with the bloodline, until they are called to make a choice. But mostly because I didn’t want y’all to be part of it. It’s very dangerous. It hurt me so much to lose your momma, and I couldn’t bear to lose my lil’ grandchildren, too.” Her voice cracked as she fought to hold back tears.

  “You never answered me,” I said, gently. “What made you choose?”

  “Mary died fighting a couple of Dark Ones. Father Ben saw that it was going to happen. He begged me to join them, but I didn’t. I told them they were crazy for doing that. I begged your momma not to go. I said, ‘Mary, think of your children and your husband.’ But she was always stubborn. And good-hearted. She wanted to do what was right, yeah.”

  “What do you mean Ben saw that it was going to happen?’”

  “Ben is a direct descendant of the knight, Oliver. That’s where the Olivier name comes from. Oliver’s gift was that he could see the future. Ben saw what would happen to Mary. He told me, and I tried everything I could think of to get her not to go. The only thing I couldn’t bring myself to do was to join them. They tracked down Les Foncés way back in the Atchafalaya Basin. They had been responsible for twenty-three deaths that year.

  “They found them in an old cabin deep in the Basin. Les Foncés were waiting for them when they arrived. Clovis Gautreaux was the first to strike. He was a descendant of Roland, so he had great strength. He burst through the door and attacked the one who was in human form. Clovis crushed him against the back wall. He didn’t die right away. The other one was a dark shadow. It descended on Clovis, just as he was about to finish off the human one. The shadow engulfed him, choking off his air.

  “The other paladins rushed in. Miss Cee Cee used her power, which is the gift of magic. She started reciting a spell in ancient French. It pulled the shadow away for a little bit. That’s when Mary went to Clovis. He was nearly dead on the floor. She laid her hands on him and healed him. The dark human attacked Mary … stabbing her. Ben went to her, trying to help, but he couldn’t. All he could do was pray for her soul. If I had been there, I could have saved her, but … anyway, Miss Cee Cee managed to keep the shadow at bay with her spells. Soon, the shadow dis
appeared altogether. Just as the human was about to kill Ben, Clovis grabbed him and broke his neck. And it was over.”

  “I thought they couldn’t be human.”

  “The human was his servant. He wanted to be part of the dark side. Anyway, Clovis blamed himself over what happened to your momma. We told him it wasn’t his fault. If it hadn’t been for him, Ben would have been dead, too. But that didn’t stop him from jumping off the Basin Bridge.”

  “And David and Michelle?” I whispered.

  Her shoulders slumped, and she nodded. “They are victims of the ‘Dark Man,’ as you call him. He is one of many Les Foncés.” Now I was crying, tears silently streaking my cheeks. She heard me sniffling and looked over at me with sympathetic eyes. She patted my knee. “It’s okay, chère.”

  “It’s not okay,” I said, harshly. “I don’t want any part of this. I just want my life to go back to normal. I don’t want to have nightmares anymore. I don’t want to have to worry about Lyla anymore. I just … I just want … I want my family back.” I was sobbing now. Clothilde put her arm around me, letting me cry it out, gently rocking me against her shoulder. I was suddenly thirteen again. It was like Mom had just died and Clothilde was the only one who could comfort me. “I’m not supposed to be here,” I said in between sobs. “I should be back in California.”

  “You weren’t happy there.”

  “I had a life there.”

  “Leigh-Leigh. Why’d you drop out of medical school?”

  I sniffled and wiped the tears away from my eyes. “I don’t really know. I guess it just wasn’t for me.”

  “What about it didn’t you like?

  I thought about it for a minute. “When I was working with real people, I felt like—it felt wrong. I mean, I helped them, but it felt like I wasn’t really helping them. I don’t know how to explain it.”

  “But you liked making them well?”

  “Yeah. I got into medicine to save people. To make a difference. I think I made a mistake. I don’t think I’m cut out for it.”

  “I don’t think the problem is you. I think the problem is the medicine.” I furrowed my brows at her. “You have a natural inclination for healing. It’s in your blood. You’re supposed to be a healer. But it’s a natural gift. So the medicine you use should be natural. And it should come from God.”

  “But …”

  She anticipated my objection. “We still need doctors and surgeons, but some people need more than that. That’s why we’re here. That’s why we were born.”

  “You’ll kill me if I tell you what I’m thinking.”

  “Try me.”

  “I … I’m just not sure there is a God.”

  She was quiet for a moment. I was wondering how long it would take the anger to bubble up and spit back at me. But she was very gentle when she said, “I know it’s easy to lose your faith when the ones you love the most are taken from you. I felt like that after Mary was taken from me. But I had you and David to help me to believe again. And you have Lyla. I can’t make you choose to take this path.”

  “Father Ben said it was my destiny.”

  “It’s one of them. Your life can have many destinies. It’s all in what you choose. Each decision you make takes you down a different path. It’s up to you to decide which path is more fulfilling.”

  “I’m scared. I don’t know what to do.”

  “If you choose not to do this, I’ll take care of Lyla.”

  “But you—”

  “I still have some fight in me,” she chuckled.

  “Why does the Dark Man want to hurt her?”

  “I don’t know. Why did he want to hurt all those other people? It’s what he was made to do.”

  “Who made him?”

  She shrugged her shoulders. “I think that when good exists, there has to be something to balance it out. I don’t think one can exist without the other.”

  I guessed it was as good an explanation as any. “So you never really win, do you? Just one battle after another? Seems so hopeless.”

  She laughed then, something I wasn’t expecting. “Lache pas la patate.” I laughed now, too. I hadn’t heard that since I was a child. It was a common phrase in Acadiana. Don’t let go of the potato was what she said.

  It meant don’t give up.

  9

  Encounter

  I woke up with a headache from a dreamless sleep. But at least I woke up earlier this time. I got dressed and sluggishly headed down stairs just in time to see Clothilde remove the skillet of sizzling bacon from the burner. Lyla was again picking at her food. I took a seat next to her, and she turned slightly away from me, careful not to meet my eyes. Talking to her about what happened yesterday before supper was going to be tricky. Ever since I came back to Acadiana, she and I had been entangled in some elaborate dance, cautious with each other’s space.

  “Nice to see you up at this hour,” remarked Clothilde.

  “I guess I got off of L.A. time and got back on LA time,” I joked. She didn’t get it. I thought at least Lyla would crack a smile, but she just sat, picking at her food. My left temple throbbed. I applied pressure to it with one finger, trying to keep blood from flowing there. Clothilde noticed.

  “You have a headache?”

  “It’s okay.”

  She put down a plate of bacon, eggs and cinnamon toast in front of me. I saw her pour some orange juice into a glass and set it down on the counter. She reached up into the cupboard and searched briefly through a couple of rows of small bottles with no labels. She grabbed one bottle and shook it twice over the juice, which she then placed in front of me, next to the plate. I stared at it.

  She put the bottle back and then looked at me. “Drink it.”

  “What’s in it?”

  “Something that’ll make you feel better.

  “It’s not dehydrated chicken poo, is it?” I was hoping to get a smile from Lyla, but she was either completely oblivious or exhibiting superb self-control.

  “It’s not that!” fussed Clothilde. “It’s an herb.”

  I shrugged my shoulders and took a sip. I made a face and Clothilde rolled her eyes. It tasted like orange juice enough, but there was a bitter after taste not associated with anything citrus. I hurried to replace that taste, eagerly gobbling up the eggs. To please her, I drank the whole glass, but a little at a time, alternating with bites of food to help wash down the bitterness stuck to the back of my tongue. My headache was gone by the time I finished my breakfast.

  “What are your plans for today?” asked Clothilde, while she and I cleared the dishes off the table. She had sent Lyla outside to pick cucumbers to make pickles later. Her question to me now was loaded, no doubt.

  “I think Carrie and I are supposed to do something tonight,” I said, avoiding her eyes.

  She nodded, and I could feel her packing more gun powder into the barrel. “What are your plans for tomorrow?”

  I put my last dish in the sink and ran water in it. “I don’t know yet.”