At first, when I discovered my history and what I was capable of, I didn’t believe it. I didn’t want it, because I just wanted to be normal. A life without magic meant a life without Rhys and he’d shown me just how beautiful life and magic could be. That was the life I had grown to want. Then there I was, throwing it all away. My magic was withering away as I abused it and used it in ways it was never meant to be used. Yeah, I was ashamed. What would Rhys think if he knew? His disappointment and disgust was something I couldn’t bear.
“Can you think of anything specific that might have initiated all of this?”
I began to shake my head, not having the faintest idea, but I stopped. A faint memory tugged at my attention, previously overshadowed by the haze of intense emotions and substantial events. There had been a point, just before Drake’s demise, where his magic had reached out and mingled with my own. I remembered the pleasure and ecstasy I felt as it ravaged me and my delicate, nubile magic. Throughout all the bliss, I still felt the infection that it covered up.
“Drake’s black blood magic infected mine right before he died and before the Baron Samedi took me away.”
Mateo gave me a look of understanding, though he didn’t say anything further.
Minutes ticked by in silence and I became more agitated as we continued our journey. Soon the irritation morphed into me being downright pissed off. I wanted answers, not companionable silence.
We were twenty minutes from our destination and still, Mateo had said nothing about my predicament. Could his silence mean that he suspected the absolute worst like I had? Drake had been a total whack job and his brother Brad had been just as bad. Seeing their penitent souls so twisted and melancholy, it had become obvious to me that they hadn’t always been like that. The greed and hunger for more power that they could never possess without turning to more sinister means, drove them to their horrific ends. My own personality had started to change. My intuition said there was a similar fate waiting for me. Would the madness of black magic infect me too? How long did I have left?
The anger that had been mounting within me deflated like a leaky balloon. Even Mateo would have limits to what he could possibly know and being mad at him wouldn’t change anything. I was determined not to live with a hate-filled heart.
“It’s just going to get worse isn’t it? My magic, me, we will keep growing darker?” I was so stuck inside my own head that I hadn’t even been aware I’d said it aloud until he responded.
His hand came down on my hand that held the steering wheel. “Don’t worry. We’ll figure all of this out. Things will be okay.”
Rhys had told me the same thing when Angie had been taken and I had to leave behind everything I knew and held dear. My thoughts then were the same as they were at that moment. Things are not going to be okay. They’ll never be okay again. Just like when Rhys said it, we both knew it wasn’t true, but we let it lend us a small bit of peace and comfort. At least for a little while.
A large wooden sign came into view. It took a few moments before the lettering was close enough for me to read.
Welcome to historic St. Martinville.
We’d arrived at our long awaited destination. This was our last chance to find the answers we were seeking. Regardless of what we did or didn’t find in that tiny town, it was our last stand. Damn it, if I wasn’t going to give it everything I had or die trying.
Chapter Eight
Welcome to St. Martinville
The town was tiny, and for the most part, unremarkable. It screamed small town USA and there wasn’t anything that indicated some sort of foul play would’ve taken place there.
We crept down Main Street. Throughout the town people darted in and out of shops. Children were playing and everyone went on about their business. Several heads turned our way as we passed, curious to see the newcomers.
The store fronts had the same old time feel as the Vieux Carré, with their galleries and intricate scroll ironworks. It had an authentic Acadian feel to it. Mateo and I hadn’t said anything to each other since the confirmation that I was slowly and surely changing into the very thing that had haunted my nightmares.
“Where do you think is our best bet if we want to find anything out?” I said, turning onto a small side street and pulling into an open parking spot.
I shifted the gear into park and twisted in my seat to look out the window at the imposing Catholic church. It appeared to be the crown jewel of the small city.
“I believe churches typically have the most complete records of a town’s goings on. If not, then maybe the good Father could point us in the right direction.” Mateo shifted and slipped out of the car, leaving me behind to catch up with the old man.
I’d never spent any great deal of time in churches and my overall experiences had been really bad. Having my back flayed open and having Drake about to strike my death blow came to mind. I stepped out of the car to join my companion, who was already half way up the walkway. I picked up the pace.
“What should I look for? Anything with the name Ronda Beamis on it? Or should it be something specific, like a death record?” I asked. Mateo had reached the doorway when I came up beside him.
“We should start with anything that has to do with Ms. Beamis. From there, we can narrow it down. Ultimately, we’re looking for some sort of indication of a death location,” he said while holding the door open for me.
We passed into the cavernous Saint Martin de Tours church. Tall, white pillars lined the long aisle. It was surprisingly similar to the St. Louis cathedral, enough so that chills ran down my spine as I took in the elegant art decorating the ceilings.
I dragged in a thick breath, trying to calm my frazzled nerves. It appeared that my anxiety over the past experiences had not subsided in the time since I’d left for Guinee.
Mateo left me to my own devices as he spoke with the Priest, who was subsequently coming out of the confessional when Mateo cornered him. I couldn’t overhear their conversation, frankly I didn’t care so long as we could look at the records.
It’s okay. You’re alright. Drake’s gone and no one is going to hurt you here. I repeated it to myself over and over again as I paced in front of the sacrificial altar. My demons were never very far away. There were times I still struggled with seeing shadows, thinking they were the Bacalou coming to finish the job.
“Maya?” Mateo called and motioned for me to follow him.
I cast one last glance around the vaulted room, eyeing each darkened corner with scrutiny. I’d never felt so uneasy in a place that was supposed to lend the feeling of safety and peace. Mateo and I stalked after the middle aged priest down a flight of stairs and into the church’s basement. Two walls were lined with filing cabinets. Mateo and the priest exchanged a few quick and quiet words between them before the clergyman left us to our task. We didn’t know where to begin.
I shuffled over to the closest cabinet and tried to read the nearly illegible filing order. It was impossible to tell if I was looking at a nine or the letter g. Finally, I gave up attempting and pulled the drawer open. Dust mites scattered from the file tops as I pulled it open as far as it would go without resistance. As it turned out, the label read ninety and not go.
I peered up at Mateo’s curious face. “These are all sorted by years, decades actually.” I pulled one of the files out and checked the one behind it as well. “And alphabetically in each year.”
He nodded.
“Brigitte’s been missing for almost a year, right? We should look at the date she went missing and maybe a couple days before and after just so we cover all of our bases.”
A mask of determined focus settled over us both and we began to comb over the recent death records, searching for any sign of the mysterious Ronda Beamis. It didn’t take long for us to track down the two thousand sixteen records several cabinets down.
Mateo grabbed a stack of files from the front of the collection and I snatched up the second half and together, we began scanning through the tabs,
looking for the B section. I slowed down when I got closer to the end of the A’s.
Aucoin.
Babineau.
I was in business now. It would be right there.
Beaumont.
Bellefontaine.
Wait, what? Shit.
“Mateo! There’s no Beamis here! What about you?”
He waved me off. My brows knitted together with a profound expression of what the fuck?
“Mateo…” I continued.
“Shhh! Hold on, let me finish reading this.” Mateo was so engrossed in his text that he didn’t bother to look up at me. Had he found something useful?
I shimmied around the open drawer and moved behind him to peer over his shoulder. I was just barely tall enough to catch a glimpse of what he was reading. Within his hands, he held a picture of a rather unassuming house, an address which was likely for said house, and a document for a cemetery plot which was paid for by a B. St. Croix.
The name caught my attention immediately and I briefly wondered how many people had the last name St. Croix, let alone the coincidence of the first initial.
“Do you think this means-?” we said in unison. A small giggle left me.
That was the break we’d been waiting for! A part of me had gone to St. Martinville, sure that we’d never find anything useful and that it would be a waste of time. I was beyond glad that I hadn’t listened to the tiny voice that whispered all the doubts into my ear.
“I think we should check this grave plot before the house. What do you think?” he asked, finally glancing over his shoulder at me.
I nodded, unable to get coherent words out around the rush of excitement that coursed through me. Brigitte was a Loa and as such, she could be killed. We knew from the state of the palace in Guinee that she wasn’t dead, at least not yet. Might the Baron have buried her alive? What about Ronda Beamis? We never did find any information about her.
I placed my stack of files back into the drawer and gave it a little shove. Mateo was busy collecting the papers from his file and trying to replace them into their perspective spots. The hope within me was swelling and making the room feel too small to contain me. I needed to move, to do something.
“I’ll meet you outside by the car, alright? I could see if I can find out where that cemetery is at?” I said as I turned and headed for the door.
I didn’t give him a chance to keep me in the small records room with him as I quickly mounted the stairs. Just as I cracked the front door of the church open, I was stopped by the priest.
“Did you find everything you were searching for?” he asked.
“Oh, yes, we did. Thank you very much for allowing us to explore your collections. They were so helpful.”
Letting go of the door, I gave the man my full attention, not wanting to seem rude.
He was a slender, middle aged man with kind, brown eyes, which reminded me of Rhys’s, and a thin mouth with smile lines at the sides. His temples had begun to grey and he emanated tranquility.
“I’m so glad to hear that we could be of assistance. Is there anything else you may need?”
“Actually, yes. Can you tell me where the cemetery is? We didn’t see it on our way into town.”
He complied readily and bid me farewell as he left me to see to the preparations for the choir practice later that afternoon. I made my way out the doors and down the sidewalk. Mateo still hadn’t finished up whatever he was messing with. If I had any notion of the man, and I did, he was making sure every document and every file was placed appropriately to the filing system. He was an orderly man, if nothing else.
I leaned against the side of the car, resolved to wait on Mateo in the fresh air. I took a deep drag of air into my lungs. It wasn’t even comparable to Guinee or New Orleans. The air was humid and sweet with a slight chill to it. A breeze carried the earthy scent of vibrant vegetation and a hint of something floral. My eyes drifted shut as I relaxed to take it all in.
“Maya…” a voice whispered to me.
I snapped my eyes open wide and searched for the source of the voice. It had seemed to come from every direction and my muscles bunched tightly, ready for an impending attack.
It had happened before, the voices whispering to me. The last time had been the Bacalou and I had no doubts that it was them again.
I searched every shadow and object that could conceal them from my view, but I still didn’t see the source of the voice. Magic prickled under my skin, a locked and loaded defense system.
“Maya, are you ready to go?” Mateo said from behind me.
A screech ripped from my throat and I unleashed a tiny shot of magic at the scare. It narrowly missed Mateo’s head.
“Mateo! You scared the shit out of me! Don’t fucking sneak up on people like that. You could get seriously hurt! I could’ve just killed you,” I said to the old man, who was hunched over, cowering. His eyes were large at the shock of my unprompted attack.
“I’m sorry?” He straightened up, though he still appeared to be wary of me and the power which I wielded.
I took a deep breath to steady myself and opened my door. “Sorry, I’m just a bit jumpy. I didn’t mean to damn near take your head off. You ready to go? I want to hurry up and see what’s at this cemetery.”
“Yes, I have everything I need. Are you sure you’re okay?”
I nodded and climbed into the driver’s seat of Rhys’s car. Mateo followed suit and folded himself into the seat next to me and settled into his seat as the engine roared to life. I pulled out of the parking spot. That was when I saw it.
The shadowy figure of a Bacalou stood in stark contrast against the white wall of the large church building. My foot slammed on the brake without giving it any conscious thought. Mateo flew forward, arms braced in front of him before his seatbelt could lock and slam him back into his seat.
“What was that?” he asked, but I refused to take my eyes from the iridescent, violet orbs staring at me.
That creature had been the source of the voice. I was sure of it.
“Maya?” he asked a bit louder when I didn’t reply to his question.
I glanced at him before returning my eyes to the spot the Bacalou had been. It was empty. The Bacalou was gone. I scanned the surrounding area, but I couldn’t find a single trace of the shadowy beast.
“Are you listening to me?” His worried tone snapped me out of my stupor.
“Yeah, sorry. I…I thought I saw something,” I explained.
“Saw what exactly?” Mateo was searching the area through every window he could reach.
I waved him off and removed my foot from the brakes. “Nothing. I’m sure it was just my mind playing tricks on me. I’m just too jumpy right now. I’m worried that the Baron or Papa Legba are going to show up at any second and drag our asses back to Guinee or worse.”
“You’re sure it wasn’t anything?”
I nodded and turned back on to the main stretch of road through the town.
The cemetery was only a block or two away from the church. The Bacalou stayed fresh in my mind and refused to release its grip. Had it really been there? Was I just seeing things? I wasn’t sure anymore.
The cemetery was like most in Louisiana, with above ground mausoleums and crypts. Folks couldn’t be buried below ground with a water table as high as it was on the swampy land under which much of the state lived. People tended to find it unsettling to have caskets popping back up above ground unexpectedly and it was the most space conscious choice. One crypt could hold dozens of people which, in turn, made our job much more difficult. We could find the crypt we were searching for, though there was no telling what we’d find inside. Would it be Ms. Beamis?
We pulled into a spot in front of the necropolis. I shifted the car into park. Mateo ambled out as he shuffled through the pages he’d taken from the church records.
“It says here the plot number is six-hundred twenty-six and there’s a map of the grounds, but I don’t see any plot numbers in the six-hundreds
on it. Can you see what you can make of it?” Mateo asked, handing the papers over to me and bringing me back to the moment.
I gazed at the rows of neatly organized crypts while checking their numbers against what our document clearly stated. He was right. The highest any of them went was one-hundred and fifteen.
My brows knitted tightly together in confusion. Did we have the right graveyard? The GPS in Rhys’s car had indicated at least two others nearby. Although, our document contradicted what was right in front of us at every turn. The cemetery name matched the gates before us. I didn’t know what else to do other than walk in and check it all out for myself.
“I don’t know what to tell you other than let’s see what we find when we get in there,” I said, motioning to the wrought iron gates in front of us. I handed the neat stack back over to my accomplice and strode forward.
The gate wasn’t locked, but it was old and its hinges were long past due for a good greasing. I pushed on the bars, trying to open it and only managed to move it a few inches. Mateo’s aged form wouldn’t be much help getting it open so I gave it another go and pushed with all my might. With a loud grunt, I shoved it hard and infused the force with a bit of magic. The gate groaned loudly in protest, but opened several more inches. It was just enough space for us to squeeze through.
I slipped between the pieces of hard metal and watched as Mateo followed suit. Only a few feet into the city of the dead and I could already feel the familiar tingle of magic.
“Did you feel that?”
The old man nodded. “Yes, the place is surrounded by magical wards.”
I was familiar with wards. Mama Yansa had them surrounding her tiny cottage to keep out the less than welcome entities that might seek to do harm. It was likely, they had protected me from a Bacalou attack countless times. What was inside that was so important to have wards surrounding the land?
Regular mortal visitors wouldn’t notice a difference or be able to detect their presence, but we were different. Sensitive, I guess is a better way to phrase it. As I had passed through the gate, I had felt the magic of its force coat my skin as it resisted my progress and tried to keep me out. We weren’t malevolent or threatening and posed little threat, and with that being the case, we could pass through without much problem. It was more uncomfortable than anything.
A Soul's Surrender (The Voodoo Revival Series Book 2) Page 12
