by K C Norrie
****
Life had twisted from their grasps.
Cari sat beside Damas, holding the cup of tea for him to sip. He had asked for the red tea, but they hadn't anymore. Cari had thrown it out along with the Golden Glow syrup Damas liked to take whenever he felt a cold coming on. Both were concocted by that fortune teller and his mother.
She wished she had kept them now. Her strong husband was suddenly frail, though it seemed he'd gotten a little stronger each day. They talked of unimportant things. Safe things. The weather in Paris. What they'd eaten for yesterday's lunch. Books read long ago.
They didn't talk of humorous things. Nothing was humorous anymore.
They didn't talk about Silas. Or Darlena. Or the Chateau.
Unopened letters fretted from the desk. Damas wouldn't look at them. They reminded him of the letter from the lawyer. Cari meant to read them when she had time. She'd been busy watching Damas breathe. Busy trying to remember herself as a child. She remembered her grand-mere; a smiling old woman who seemed to adore her, and it made her think of Max. Then she would remember Silas and go back to watching Damas. There were six letters from Riene. She'd written once a week.
"Tomorrow. I will read them tomorrow," she thought before dozing off in the chair beside Damas.
When she woke again, Damas no longer breathed.
****
Gabel had a small crew of men helping him landscape the square. He designed it himself drawing it on paper first. Together they placed benches, mosaic paths and bird baths. The square measured about 30 by 125 meters and they made the most of the space.
He planted for the seasons; spring blooms, summer blooms and fall colors. In the winter there would be holly and pine. He built a small birdhouse attached to a post and painted it with colorful designs. He placed it just so, where he could view it from a bench. He'd written his mother's name in one of the corners. She had loved watching the birds. It brought him such comfort, that he built many birdhouses and set up a station for anyone to stop and paint one. They could place it wherever they wanted in the square; or bring them to their own gardens if desired.
Before the storm, when the cafe was still open, Gabel had tried to grow cuttings of the vine in little jars of water. He tried transplanting them in little pots or little patches of soil with no success. The roots shriveled and died almost immediately. He even tried to grow a patch out in the country at his old farm with the current owner's blessings but was no more successful in the country soil.
He could not resist trying to plant them in the square. To his surprise the vines sprouted and thrived. Gabel could not understand why. He remembered coming here once with Silas, shortly after Riene introduced them. Silas had seen one of those strange lights land here as he watched the storm from the Chateau. He'd kept his eye on the glow and worked it out to be this location. He had searched here at that time, but never found anything. Perhaps something had landed here from that storm after all. Something the vines liked.
****
Dear Madame Cari,
I am so sorry. There was a storm, and we just wanted to help. Silas was killed while helping others. There was a fire and now there is not even a body to recover. We are building a shrine on the location where he was killed. There are so many others, also dead. Again, I am so sorry. You were right. We should never have become involved in the village affairs. Had we left them to fend for themselves, Silas would still be alive.
-Riene
P.S. Madame Bereitha, my adopted mother, also perished in the storm.
****
Cari read the letter softly, careful not to let anything touch her. She would not be touched. Her entire family was dead now. Darlena, Silas, Damas. She carried Damas in the cart behind her carriage, concealed in a coffin to be placed in the family crypt beside Darlena. Silas killed in a fire. It made more sense than what Edith had written. Either way it seemed Silas's body was lost to them forever. Another sorrow. The sorrow rolled away. I will not touch that. Her daughter-in-law said she was right, but was she? How could she be right, when so many things were wrong?
Cari traveled with Arlene and three others of the staff from Paris. They would arrive in Saint Ange in another hour. She wanted to see Max. Nothing else mattered. A tiny patch of blue amid the clouds, a solitary star in the dark sky, one ray of sunshine, he was what she focused on. Not the deaths of her husband and children. Not Silas's inappropriate marriage. Not her outspoken daughter-in-law addressing her coldly as Madame Cari. Not the death of Max's other grand-mere. Not Max attending the village school. Not the suspicion of infidelity with the fortune teller. Nothing mattered but Max; her petit fils.
The Ceremony
Chapter 23
Riene had written Madame Cari all about the ceremony but had gotten no response.
Dear Madame Cari,
How is Monsieur Montrell? Better, I hope. As I stated in my last letter, we have planned a ceremony for all who died on that terrible night. I think your attendance of this event is important and wait for word of your return. Remember, the ceremony is to honor Silas as much as the others. Please let me know if you do not wish to attend. I would understand.
-Riene
****
Sad news from Paris arrived shortly after she had sent the last letter. Monsieur Damas had died in his sleep. Madame Cari and personal staff were bringing his body back to Saint Ange immediately for burial in the Montrell tomb. The only message to arrive was addressed to Edith.
Edith,
It is with deepest sorrow that I inform you of the death of Monsieur Damas. He passed away peacefully in his sleep. We are bringing him home to the family tomb. Please ready the staff and quarters for our arrival mid-day tomorrow.
Madame Cari Montrell
Edith had brought it to her with fresh tears in her eyes.
"More sorrow for the Chateau. Have we been cursed?" she asked.
No message was sent to Riene nor was any mention made of the pending ceremony. Riene decided to move forward with the plans. She sent word to Father Pierre and Father David. One hundred and ten tolls rang out from Saint Paul and one hundred and ten tolls from Saint Mary's. Two hundred and twenty deaths. A signal to the villagers that at last, the ceremony had begun. They would arrive at the Chateau in the morning. The service would begin at four and was expected to last into the dark of the evening. Each family was to bring two lanterns if they could. One would be left along the path to guide the way back to the village in the dark after the service. The Chateau staff would light them at dusk.
Riene hadn't known what to do about the unexpected death of Monsieur Damas. What was proper? In the end she decided to include his death as part of the ceremony and created a place of honor for her esteemed father-in-law's casket. He was just as much a casualty of the storm as anyone. It was Silas's death that caused his heart to fail. If Madame Cari viewed this as a bad decision, at least Riene would hear no argument from Monsieur Damas.
The next morning, the weather gifted them with a warm clear day with the merest touch of breeze, to cool the brow.
Riene sent two of the staff out on horseback to wait at the edge of the village on the road which Madame Cari would arrive. They carried red banners with the letter M for Montrell. They were sent to escort Madame Cari and her staff to the Chateau, formally and slowly, like a parade. The escort was instructed to be friendly, waving to the villagers as they passed them by. If they passed any children, they were to hand sweets they carried for that purpose. If Madame Cari gave any displeasure, they were to tell her that the commands came from Max. Max was the new master of the Chateau. The candy had been his idea; Max's contribution to the planning of the ceremony.
****
The escort wasn't necessary. It must have been Riene's idea. After all this time the girl still believed in fairy tales. Madame Cari endured the slowness with irritation. She was aware of the waving and the passing of the candy to the children, but she didn't understand where all the people were coming from. Everyone wa
s packed up as if leaving, where were they going?
She kept watching for the Chateau. It was always impressive to see, sitting high up above the village. When it finally came into view, she was shocked. Even from here she could see the lawn was filled with people. The road up to the Chateau was filled with people. What kind of spectacle was this? Didn't they know the Chateau was in mourning? Edith mentioned a village ceremony. Cari thought that would have taken place in the village weeks ago.
Don't let it touch you. She said to herself. When she arrived at the Chateau, she would go to her room. She forced herself to look out at the village. Where had the fire been? She saw no sign. She closed her eyes to it all and let the rocking of the carriage soothe her raging spirit.
****
Riene watched the line of villagers trudge up the road that led to the Chateau, as she watched for Madame Cari. Down on the Chateau lawn, there was already a fair-sized crowd. Families brought food and blankets to sit on. Vendors set up stalls for refreshments. And still they came, the line stretching off into the village.
At last, she spotted the red flags of the escort. They were still far enough away that she could barely make them out.
They're coming.
It was time to get ready.
****
Cari was appalled that the dignified lawn of the Chateau la Montagne had been turned into a street fair. Children were running around playing games. She saw vendors selling food and drink. People were picnicking. This was a house of mourning! She had just lost her son and her husband.
"I want to be taken directly to my room," she told Arlene. "I am to be disturbed by no one."
Once in her room and comforted by familiar sights, she felt a little better. Arlene brought tea with lemon. Not that red stuff. Real tea from Paris. She lay on her bed and imagined that nothing had changed. Silas was somewhere in the Chateau. Damas just on the other side of the door. She even imagined Darlena bursting into the room any moment. Maman, come play. But the child's voice had faded through the years. She couldn't remember it well. Don't touch it. She fell asleep.
****
It was time for the ceremony to begin. Riene took Max by the hand and led him out into the yard to their waiting seats. He proudly held his father's sword safely sheathed in a scabbard. He insisted on bringing it to the ceremony.
"Papa will want to see that I'm taking good care of it."
Riene gave him his way. They were followed out by the entire Chateau staff dressed in mourning black. As she sat down, she caught sight of Gabel seated with the Sisters from St. Paul's. Madame Cari's seat remained empty at the other end of the same row of chairs. Arlene had been given instructions to bring her down just before four o'clock. The service would start with or without her. Damas Montrell's casket sat in the shade of a covered porch. He would be moved to the family crypt at the end of the ceremony.
****
When she woke, it was dusk. She got up quickly when she remembered where she was.
Where was Damas's body? Had they taken him to the mausoleum without her presence? Her room faced the side of the Chateau and she could see nothing out the window. She went through the door to Damas's room which faced the front and was assailed by memories. She almost called out for him. He's not here. She went to the front window. The people were still out there sitting quietly now. Father Pierre was leading them in prayer. Cari bowed her head and prayed with him. After the prayer, he began to read a list of names. Who were all these people he named? Each name read was followed by a cry from someone.
"Silas Joseph Montrell! God has brought you home. May your soul find peace."
Cari gasped despite herself. My son!
****
Father Pierre and Father David performed the ceremony together. Prayers were followed by scripture and ritual. Each name was spoken aloud and blessed. Once the formal ceremony ended, people took turns speaking about their beloved, their loss and grief.
She held Max's hand when it was their turn. She spoke about Silas and only the good. "I love you and miss you. You will live on in my heart."
Max spoke as if speaking directly to Silas.
"Hi, it's me Max. I will always remember you Papa. I will take care of your sword. I will think about you every day. I miss you and Grand-mere Bereitha. I hope you are together and not lonely. I hope you will remember me too. I love you. Hi Grand-mere Bereitha. I miss you too. I have your cup. Hi Grand-pere Montrell. I will miss you too."
It brought tears to Riene. It brought tears to Cari.
The stories and goodbyes continued on until the last person spoke.
Then it was over.
A beautiful day had turned to a beautiful night. Good memories had been added to the bad. Chateau la Montagne was ablaze with lantern light and so was the path that led down to Saint Ange.
Riene sat with Max as they watched the families leave. Gabel soon joined them, and Max fell asleep in her arms. Young Kathryn came to take him to bed.
****
Father Pierre stayed behind to perform the small private ceremony he'd prepared for Damas. He had visited with Cari just before she went to her room. She'd invited him to spend the night in the Chateau as a guest.
Now she stepped out into the night. You are home Damas. Arlene and Vincent, Damas's personal servant, stepped out into the night air beside her. The villagers were gone from the lawn now, but she could still see the long line of lanterns drifting down into the town. She felt something for them. She had listened to their stories about their own family members lost, and to the accounts of the tornado, and she'd heard a few speak of the demons, and the dead rising. How could people in this day and age, believe such things? It would have been a dark night like this. Hard to see. People would have been in grief. Stumbling around. Cari could see it. Someone kicked over a lantern, and a fire started. A fire that killed her son. Don't touch that.
Some of the staff were walking up with a cart to load Damas's coffin. The crypt was a stone structure down a path, about a kilometer from the Chateau. She watched Riene hand a sleeping Max over to young Kathryn. She tried to catch her daughter-in-law's eye but failed. Riene was looking off into the village. The fortune teller stepped up to stand beside her.
****
Riene looked up and thought of her and Silas's first kiss beneath a starry sky very much like this one.
Madame Cari had yet to acknowledge her. It was hurtful, but Riene held no anger. The woman had lost both her son and her husband unexpectedly in a very short period.
The staff began to line up for the procession to the crypt, and Riene and Gabel ambled up behind them. Gabel had picked up the sheathed sword that Max insisted on bringing.
"Something's moving!" shouted someone from up ahead and the casket tumbled to the ground. "Something moved inside!"
It was one of Madame Cari's staff from Paris. Riene became alarmed. So did everyone else.
"Oh my God!" shouted Madame Cari as she hurried to the casket. "Get him out! He's still alive! That fool doctor in Paris said he was dead!"
****
Gabel began running aware that he had never used a sword before. "Get back!" he shouted. But no one heard him over Madame Montrell's screams to get him out. He kept his eye on the coffin. It was the type that had only an ornate clasp. No lock. He couldn't run fast enough. Vincent was reaching down to open the lid. Arlene stepped up beside him. Madame Montrell screamed, "Hurry!" and all the while something seemed determined to get out.
Everyone who had been in the village after the tornado, screamed at the Paris workers to stop, including Father Pierre. No one listened. Riene reached Madame Montrell pulling her back, just as the lid flew open and Monsieur Montrell and what he had turned into, sprang from the coffin. Vincent was the closest. Arlene had one hand on his shoulder. One fang sank into her hand as the thing bit Vincent in the neck, killing him instantly. Then Gabel thrust the sword through Monsieur Montrell's eye with enough force to pierce his brain through the other side. Monsieur Damas was prope
rly stilled.
****
Madame Cari tore from Riene’s grasp and ran to Arlene. It didn't matter now. Father Pierre had taken control of the situation. "Let us pray!" he commanded. And they prayed two more souls into heaven. Lanterns were used to help light the bodies on fire. The ashes were shoveled together into the coffin, and the procession marched on to the crypt. All through the long walk, Father Pierre pulled rituals from the air, sprinkling holy water over the ashes, the coffin, and the crypt while speaking Latin. He even spoke and sprinkled over Arlene's bleeding wound. He seemed especially worried about that wound.
****
It was unspeakable. Cari did not understand what had happened. Normally Arlene would have taken her inside, and soothed her, but this time it was Cari, arms around her maid, taking her to her room and bringing the tea and the antiseptic to clean her wound. She administered the sleeping draught the doctor had given her in Paris. Then she sat beside Arlene's bed, waiting for her to fall asleep.
It was unthinkable. Don't touch it! She hoped the noise hadn't woken Max. Perhaps Riene would let her kiss him on his forehead as he slept. That was exactly what she needed now. As soon as Arlene is asleep, I will go to see my grandson.
****
Father Pierre had told no one at the Chateau about what happened to the tornado survivors who were bitten by the dead, though Gabel knew, since he had witnessed this event for himself. The bitten survivors from the tornado did not survive the bites from the demons. Even the smallest bite, smaller than Arlene's bite, caused death. The Golden Glow was administered to them but had no effect. In the end, the bitten became feverish, comatose, and then died. After they died, they woke as demons themselves. They'd had to kill them and burn the bodies, a practice he'd prefer to not continue. He could not understand why this was happening. Had it ever happened before?
Father Pierre had traveled to Rome two weeks ago. He met with a group of priests assigned to investigate such occurrences as miracles and possible biblical events. He discussed Saint Ange and the investigative priests asked questions. They discussed the phenomenon for several days amongst themselves only including Father Pierre only if they had more questions. Father Pierre secluded himself in prayer and solitude. After the fourth day he was given an answer.
