Only By Moonlight

by Emery, Lynn

  Miss Rose’s expression softened. “Oui. We all run out of time eventually. You’re monmon is gone, child.”

  LaShaun wiped a stray tear from her cheek. “I’m not using this as an excuse to cling to Monmon Odette. Miss Rose, what’s happening to Chase is just one part of the threat. I think more is at stake. Do believe in coincidences?”

  “Life can be random you know,” Miss Rose said cautiously. “What are you talking about?”

  “Manny Young has a high powered lawyer out of New Orleans trying to get him out of prison. This same lawyer is friends with Quentin Trosclair, and shows up at a party with Greg Graham’s parents. They all know each other.”

  “Not too many folks live in Vermilion Parish, so it’s natural they would. The old families have close ties. As for the lawyer, bet he went to school with one of them. Am I right?” Miss Rose asked.

  “Yes, I believe he’s from an old New Orleans family as well. You heard about Chase shooting Greg.” LaShaun let out a long slow breath. She still couldn’t say the words without feeling a chill.

  “The whole state has heard, cher.” Miss Rose shook her head. “Boy has gone wild.”

  “The lawyer representing Greg’s family was recommended by Manny’s lawyer. Savannah referred them to someone else, but they switched. Still believe in coincidences?” LaShaun watched the older woman’s expression for signs.

  “Go on,” was all Miss Rose replied.

  “I did more research. The land Greg and the other kids were on used to be part of the Metier Plantation. But it was first owned by Jules Octave LeBrun.” LaShaun sat forward. “His daughter married Georges Trosclair. The couple got it as a wedding present and…”

  “Sweet mercies in heaven,” Miss Rose muttered and stood abruptly.

  Startled by her behavior, LaShaun jumped to her feet as well. “Are you okay?”

  “Cher, you know I’ve researched family lines in Vermilion Parish for over forty years.” Miss Rose looked at LaShaun.

  “I know it sounds crazy, but—”

  “Therese LeBrun married Georges, this I know. They also got more than land as a gift. Her daddy gave her a fourteen year old slave girl named Chloe to take with her. She was one of your ancestors.” Miss Rose sat down hard again. “Odette never told you this story, eh?”

  “No. Are you…” LaShaun waited for her to go on.

  “I’m not sick, child. Don’t worry about me,” Miss Rose said, answering the question on LaShaun’s lips before it was uttered. “I know who we need to call on for this task. I don’t like doing it, but I’ve needed their help twice in the past thirty years.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  LaShaun’s entire body tingled. The stinging intensified, like a thousand tiny electric needles stabbing her skin. Miss Rose grabbed LaShaun’s hand and held it for several minutes until the feeling began to subside. When LaShaun sighed with relief, Miss Rose let go and left the room. She came back carrying a beautiful book with a bronze leather cover. A copper clasp held it closed. Only when Miss Rose placed it on the table did LaShaun realize the clasp was a lock. Miss Rose placed a small key beside it.

  “Odette loaned this to me years ago, one of your family books, for research. She teased me about how much I would owe her in fines if she charged late fees like a library.” Miss Rose did not smile despite the joke. Instead she wore a subdued expression as she stared at the book.

  “This is lovely craftsmanship.” LaShaun used the key to unlock the clasp. She opened the book with care and read the inscription on the second page. “Une étrange histoire de notre famille, the strange history of my family.”

  “Start on page seventy-seven while I’m gone. I’m going to call them.”

  “Wait, call who?” LaShaun spoke to the older woman’s retreating back.

  “The twins, and I hope they’ve stopped their infernal bickering,” Miss Rose muttered as she left.

  ***

  Two hours later, LaShaun was still reading, seated comfortably in an overstuffed chair in what Miss Rose called le parloir. The modern world and those who no longer spoke Louisiana Creole French could jump in the lake, to quote her. She wasn’t giving in to time or the lack of respect for traditions in Vermilion Parish.

  In the time waiting for “them” to arrive, Miss Rose had been too preoccupied with preparations to answer questions. LaShaun gave up trying to figure out why she was being so mysterious. Instead, she allowed the older woman to rummage around in an old trunk stored in an extra bedroom. Besides, the book pulled LaShaun into the long ago world of her ancestors. Soon she was engrossed in the tragic story of Chloe.

  At fourteen she was torn away from her parents and twelve siblings. Her tearful pleas not to leave them were ignored. After all, she was no more than property. Why would her feelings count to those who owned her? So she ended up on what would later become the Metier Plantation. The account of her life would be whispered for decades. Raped by the drunken Monsieur Trosclair and his equally drunken friends, she became pregnant. The young girl never recovered from the trauma of that awful night. Enraged and jealous, Madame Trosclair declared the baby would be sold immediately. True to her word, Madame Trosclair contacted a slave trader though her husband resisted. At the prospect of losing her baby, Chloe went insane. She smothered little Estelle and hung herself. Chloe’s mother, known to be a woman of magic, cursed the Trosclair couple. Over the next three years the young Trosclair bride had three still born children. Madame Trosclair died at age twenty-seven from a strange fever after suffering for three days, her body covered with sores. It was said that she kept screaming for someone to stop the baby from crying. Yet there was no baby in or near the big house.

  “Wow,” LaShaun murmured as she rested the open book on her lap.

  “Now you know of the chilling tie between your family and the Trosclairs,” Miss Rose said as she set up three long white candles on the coffee table. She then arranged a circle of small cloth bags around them. Next she placed a rosary on a lace shawl that she draped on one side of the long table.

  “We are related, and I had an affair with Quentin back in the day,” LaShaun murmured in shock.

  “Non, cher. Chloe’s baby died. It’s said that the baby had a shock of red hair just like the Scotsman, one of the beasts that violated her. It’s fairly certain his seed is the one that took root in the poor girl.”

  LaShaun felt a burning hot hunger for vengeance. “Were they all cursed? Those men I mean.”

  “Legend has it that none of them ever prospered.” Miss Rose turned to LaShaun and shrugged. “Their names are lost to history, so we can’t be sure.”

  “Why did the Trosclair family become rich if they were cursed?” LaShaun picked up the book and turned pages to read more.

  “The tale passed down says Chloe’s uncle, Theodore LeGrange, made a bargain with Trosclair. He would not curse his generations, and in return, the LeGrange family would be freed from slavery. Not only that, but they would be given land and livestock.” Miss Rose started to continue but the doorbell chimed. “Let’s get this business done with the least damage.”

  “I wish you’d explain…” LaShaun broke off when Miss Rose waved a hand at her.

  “No time. Watch and learn.” Miss Rose went to the foyer.

  Moments later came the sound of the door opening and closing. When Miss Rose returned, LaShaun thought she was alone. Then Miss Rose swept out both arms in a flourish. The enigmatic “they” walked through the archway into the parlor side by side.

  “This is Odette’s grandchild.” Miss Rose turned to LaShaun. “Justine and Pauline Dupart, LaShaun.

  “Nice to meet you,” LaShaun said. She blinked at the dizzying feeling of seeing double.

  The identical twins both wore their hair in thick braids. One had hers pinned up. The other wore a tignon, or elaborate scarf, with several of her braids hanging to her shoulders. Though they looked ageless, LaShaun guessed them to be in their late fifties or early sixties. One wore jeans and a tu
nic styled tie-dyed t-shirt under a bright red jacket. The other wore a maxi dress in vibrant colors and a dark green ankle length coat. They both eyed LaShaun with great interest.

  “I’m Justine,” said the twin with her hair uncovered.

  “Which can only mean I’m Pauline. Glad you said something, sister. Sometimes we don’t even know which of us is which.” Pauline tittered. This earned a rolling of the eyes from her sister.

  “That joke is older than our grandmother,” Justine retorted.

  LaShaun laughed. “I liked it.”

  “Don’t encourage her,” Justine replied. She put her large quilted floral purse on one end of Miss Rose’s sofa. “Are we going to have to beg for something to drink? That’s a long drive from Mermentau, Rose.” She sat down heavily on the sofa.

  “Pooh, stop your complaining. You drive farther than that to see that old man you chasing,” Pauline replied with an impish wink at LaShaun. She sat down on the other end of the sofa.

  “That is none of your business.” Justine snapped. “You keep flapping those loose lips and I’ll…”

  “I was only remarking on how wonderfully faithful you are to Henry, dear sister,” Pauline said. Her large brown eyes widened innocently.

  “How you have time to mix in my affairs is amazing. Your unruly herd of a family can’t keep themselves out of trouble more than a few days at a time.”

  “My boy went to jail one time and you never stop talking about it,” Pauline said heatedly.

  “Stop it right now,” Miss Rose cut in. “I don’t have time or patience for this nonsense today. You should at least learn to curb this bickering in front of someone you just met.

  Pauline cleared her throat. “Absolutely correct, Rose. I’m sorry, sister. I shouldn’t tease you.”

  Justine shrugged. “Well, I should be used to your ways by now. I’m a little sensitive about my Henry,” she said to LaShaun in a whisper as though they were alone. “My husband died ten years ago. A woman gets lonely you know.”

  “Henry’s a good enough man, Justine. But you could do better,” Pauline butted in as she accepted a cup of coffee from Miss Rose.

  “Now don’t you start with that again.” Justine grimaced at Pauline.

  “Enough,” Miss Rose said loudly. “We have a serious situation on our hands, ladies.”

  “I’ll say.” Pauline turned to gaze at LaShaun intently, so did her twin sister. “We got to stop Satan from being elected sheriff of Vermilion Parish,”

  Chapter 12

  LaShaun shot to her feet. “What the hell…”

  “Exactly, girl. Straight from hell,” Justine said in a grave tone.

  “Miss Rose, I’m gonna need you to start explaining right now,” LaShaun said. For the first time in years she felt unnerved.

  “Surely Miz Odette prepared her?” Pauline turned to Miss Rose.

  “LaShaun was living in Los Angeles when Odette got sick. LaLa ran out of time, my dears.” Miss Rose sat down one of the upholstered chairs that faced the sofa.

  “LaLa?” LaShaun asked. “That was my nickname when I was little.”

  “Oui,” Justine said. For the first time the serious woman wore a smile. “We called you Petite LaLa. But your grandmother was LaLa first. Her grandmother used to call her that. You know LaLa was what the old folks called house parties.”

  “They say nobody could party like your great grandmother, and you from what I hear. You got it honest,” Pauline added with another wink. “I hear you had Quentin Trosclair wrapped around your finger at one time.”

  Miss Rose spoke up before a stunned LaShaun could recover enough to answer. “We didn’t come here to gossip. What do you think about this idea of reaching out to the spirit world?”

  “No biggie. We’ve done it before,” Justine said promptly.

  Pauline put a hand on her sister’s arm. “But only in very serious situations.”

  “Well I’d say trying to fight the devil qualifies, sister,” Justine replied mildly.

  “You keep talking about the devil. My family stirred up a minor spirit. I mean, he’s evil enough. Loves chaos and causing trouble, but I didn’t think…” LaShaun’s voice trailed off as the full weight of their assertion sunk in.

  “When you call on any spirit, even God’s angels, there are consequences, child,” Miss Rose said quietly.

  “That’s why we use our ability sparingly,” Justine added, and looked at her sister.

  “Yes, we’re careful to keep a low profile. Folks from miles around would show up on our doorstep wanting us to contact their dearly departed.” Pauline sighed.

  “For good or questionable reasons. Sometimes you can’t tell the difference because people lie,” Justine said. “We’re not telepathic that way, so we can’t sort out motives.”

  “Only a few know what we can do. We’ve learned through the years that’s best,” Miss Rose explained, and the twins nodded with her in agreement. “Back to the business at hand.”

  “LaLa was a strong woman, so she might be still connected to this world,” Justine replied. “But she may not want to communicate. Spirits can be moody.”

  “Tell me about it,” LaShaun retorted. “It’s no fun having them bust in on your life uninvited.”

  “Rose explained what’s happening. We’ve been watching the news. I don’t like what I’m seeing.” Pauline looked at her sister.

  “Pauline can see connections and patterns in events,” Justine explained.

  LaShaun glanced at Miss Rose. “See? That’s what I was trying to explain. Wait a minute. If Satan has taken an interest in this, then there is a plan. Oh Lord.”

  “What?” The twins said in unison and both leaned forward.

  “This is going to sound crazy, but what if someone wanted to get serial killers released to start even more chaos?” LaShaun looked around the three older women.

  “Pooh-ya, child,” Miss Rose blurted out. “They got enough lowdown criminals running loose. Satan doesn’t have to recruit.”

  Pauline studied LaShaun for a few moments. “Most are wicked, that’s true. But they aren’t all that special, or smart come to that. What are you thinking?”

  “Manny is all three. He’s smart, wicked and special. He has paranormal abilities,” LaShaun said quietly. “What he can do is limited because he’s cut off from society. And they keep him on medication to control his rages.”

  “Okay,” Miss Rose and the twins exchanged glances. All three shrugged.

  “What if the rest of the cases Montgomery works on are the same? Serial killers with paranormal skills?” The tiny pricks along LaShaun’s arms confirmed she was on the right track.

  The twins made the sign of the cross while Miss Rose murmured, “My oh my.”

  “If you’re right, then that settles it. We need to call in reinforcements,” Justine pronounced solemnly.

  Pauline and Justine rose as one. They moved the candles around to fit some shape they wanted. Justine pulled out matches from her pocket and lit the wicks. Her sister whispered as they both moved.

  Miss Rose stood back and watched them. “You need me to do anything?”

  “We brought what we need.” Justine pulled a large wooden cross and a Bible from her floral tote.

  “Just like that you’ve decided we should try?” LaShaun watched them in fascination. She’d never had contact with any others with “the gifts”, only her grandmother and Miss Rose. Then she shuddered. And Manny Young.

  “This is the most serious situation we ever been called on,” Pauline said and looked at her sister.

  “Yes, now let’s get started. Stand up, dear,” her sister said.

  She and Pauline joined hands and walked in a circle around the table. As the sisters walked, the flames of the candles danced. They called Monmon Odette’s full name as they recited prayers asking for divine guidance and permission to communicate with her. LaShaun was startled at a touch on her shoulder.

  Miss Rose handed LaShaun a knit shawl. “Wrap up, cher. It�
��s going to get cold in here.”

  LaShaun did as instructed. Sure enough ten seconds later the warm cozy room took on a distinct chill. Not knowing what to expect, LaShaun waited for one of the twins to start speaking in her grandmother’s voice. Instead they continued walking in a circle repeating prayers in perfect sync. Pauline would start one and they’d end it at the same time. Then Justine would start up and they’d repeat the process. Ten minutes went by. LaShaun felt no shift in the atmosphere. Not one of Miss Rose’s many knick-knacks moved. Only the flames wavered. Suddenly the twins stood still in identical listening poses.

  “What the—” LaShaun stopped when Miss Rose pressed a finger to her lips.

  “You’ll know soon,” Miss Rose whispered ever so softly close to LaShaun’s ear.

  The antique clock in the hall chimed ten times. After a while the tick-tock coming from it seemed amplified throughout the house. This is dragging on way too long, LaShaun thought. Ten minutes and still the only thing moving in the house seemed to be the hands on the clock. Another sound of chimes signaled fifteen minutes had gone by. LaShaun started to express impatience that nothing had happened. Before she opened her lips to speak, the twins shushed her.

  Pauline gestured, moving her hand in a circle. “Turn around, and keep going,” she whispered.

  “But…” LaShaun stopped when three pairs of dark eyes gazed back in reproach. “I hope Monmon Odette shows up sometime this decade.”

  LaShaun followed instructions. After a few seconds the walls spun past like she was on a merry-go-round. Suddenly she saw flowers everywhere framed by blue skies. Shades of pink, white and violet azaleas bloomed. A warm breeze brushed through her hair. She heard humming, a song Monmon Odette loved to sing. Shading her eyes against the bright sunlight, LaShaun saw a straw hat floating above the leaves. She followed it until she came to a clearing.