by D. M. Pratt
Eve then told her everything she’d uncovered online. It seemed that one of the Le Masters boys, and there were seven, had married into the great and noble Gregoire family back in the 30’s. Millard Le Masters had married Antoinette Gregoire and from the photos and articles she was able to find it was quite the social event of the season.
“Thank God for the internet,” Cora said.
“Amen to that,” Eve replied.
Eve told her that Millard and Antoinette had lost three children, two in childbirth and one in a drowning accident. They finally produced a son named Philip Longfellow Le Masters. She showed Cora the article that said Millard was a bit of a dandy and a well-known gambler. He’d made a number of bad investments with what remained of the Gregoire fortune and left his family near penniless. Now it was the sixties and Philip had gone off to Vietnam and become a local hero. Millard took the notoriety and used it to benefit himself and several deals he was doing. When Philip returned he arranged for Philip to marry Geraldine Avery, beautiful, smart and heir to both oil and gas fortunes with large land holdings along the gulf. Her dowry infused Millard’s family coffers and saved them and the Gregoire estate.
“My mother is related to the Averys on her father’s side. Second cousins I think,” Cora said.
“It was a substantial fortune until Millard sided with the wrong people in Cuba and made a host of bad investments and ridiculous business decisions,” Eve said. “Not only had he managed to lose the Gregoire fortune but Geraldine’s portion of the Avery holdings as well. Millard tried to sell the Gregoire estate but the family’s 200 year old will stopped him. Unable to pay the taxes, he was forced to donate the entire estate in 1988 to the state under a very odd precedent.
“Beau was Philip and Geraldine’s son and I think it says he has the right to get the estate back this year along with a special generational trust, but I need a lawyer to look at the paperwork to be certain,” Eve said. “Philip and Geraldine had a daughter too. Younger than Beau. It seems she accidentally fell from a second story window at the age of twelve and that left everything to their only son Beauregard,” Eve explained.
“But where’s Beauregard?” Cora asked.
“That’s just it—I can’t find any record of his death.”
“Now what?” Cora asked
“I guess I tell Charles I need two weeks off. They owe me a vacation and I could use the time to track what little information I have about the mysterious Beauregard Alistair Gregoire Le Masters.”
Eve reached into her purse and pulled out the only picture that she could find of Beau. It dated back to when he was 15. The two women stared at the fuzzy print out. It was him, younger, vibrant, alive, happy, his dark hair and blue eyes filled with courage and ready to take on the world.
Cora took the picture of Beau at age 15 and studied it carefully.
“No wonder you’re in trouble. He’s delicious,” Cora said.
“Here’s where it gets weird—Philip and Geraldine took Beau on a trip around the world after their daughter died and they’d lost the estate. They were all in an accident and Philip and Geraldine died. The article doesn’t say where. Two coffins came back and were allowed to be buried on the estate. There was nothing about Beau,” Eve told her. “Nothing.”
“Oh suga, you think he’s dead?” Cora asked.
“No! I don’t know. What if he’s not? What if his parents died and he was…I don’t know, somewhere in a coma. His grandfather came to get them and discovered Beau was still alive, paid whoever to keep him in a coma or make it look like he’d died but they wouldn’t and he’s not dead, he’s alive, trying to get out…physically or spiritually or something,” Eve surmised.
“Why,” Cora asked. “Why not just kill him?”
Eve sighed, “I don’t have a clue.”
“Maybe that weird trust situation,” Cora said.
“What do you mean?” Eve asked.
“Oh, my heavens, I am the worst at this stuff but my Uncle Richard, who happens to be my family’s attorney, told me with death and estate taxes what they are, I have my inheritance from my grandparents but the inheritance from my parents doesn’t trigger until I have a child,” Cora explained. “It’s very complicated.”
The clock on St Andrew’s church that sat at the edge of the French quarter began to chime. Eve looked at the middle hands of the clock ticking off the precious time she had left to find Beau, save him and save herself. Before she could be the heroine of the day she had to get to the office.
“I need your help,” Eve asked Cora.
“How much?” Cora asked.
“No, no. And I’ll pay you back for the Voodoo stuff as soon as I can,” Eve told her.
“Are you kidding me? This is the most excitement I have ever had in my entire life,” Cora said with an excited squeal.
Eve looked at Cora suddenly seeing her in a very different light for the first time.
“Cora, okay, I have been dying to ask you this question.”
“Shoot, suga,” Cora said with a curious smile.
“What do you do?’ Eve asked.
“Do? What do you mean?”
“I mean, I have a job and go to work and get a pay check. I earn money and live on it,” Eve explained. “I know you are a trust fund baby.”
“And proud of it,” Cora said.
“But, what do you do?” Eve asked.
Cora was confounded. It was as if no one had ever asked her that question in her life.
“Well, I…I sit on the board of several charities, volunteer my time at the University fundraising committee. I did tell you I was president of my sorority for three years. And um… I travel and… uhm… you know…make myself beautiful and well, of course, shop. Oh, I have to marry and have a child before I’m 30. Right now I am helping my best friend find an incubus and that Niliphus thing she said might be out there trying to get you,” Cora said with a smile. “And I don’t care how much it costs if I can pay for it and nobody is going to kill my friend.”
“Nephilim,” Eve said correcting her.
Now it was Eve who was dumbfounded. She’d never known a TFB well enough to ask. Now she was actually sorry she knew.
“Look, if you’ll just find out where Millard Le Masters lives, his business and phone number if he has one, if you can,” Eve said.
“You want me to talk to him?”
“No! He may be behind this,” Eve said. “Think about it, he’s lost all of his children. His son Philip lost his daughter who fell from a window; Beau’s the last kid and he’s vanished since Philip died with his wife in a car crash. It’s weird don’t you think?”
“OMG. This is beyond anything I have ever seen on TV. It’s positively delicious,” Cora said.
“Delicious or not, stay away from him. Promise?”
“Promise,” Cora said
She pulled out her pen knife, held up her finger and looked at Eve.
“No! I am not going to do a blood oath with you so forget it!” Eve told her as she gathered her things. “Stay safe. I need my best friend.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
Eve hugged Cora, crossed the little park that ran along the Mississippi and dashed into the modern, chrome and glass office building at 27 Riverwalk Way. It was the home of Southern Style Magazine and her bread and butter. Eve always thought the building was cold and imposing and had none of the southern charm that made New Orleans the south. But this and a host of other new buildings represented the new sophisticated side of New Orleans, a city ever changing with the times. The city had survived a long list of wars, the yellow fever and most recently, Katrina. The massive hurricane had tried to destroy New Orleans but there she was, still standing, being reborn into the 21st century with the love and the help of the citizens who live there. A monument to time ready to take on the future. Eve too felt a kind of rebirth. Cora was right; there was an excitement in what was happening, mysterious and dangerous, but exciting.
Eve stepped off the elevator, and check
ed the big clock that hung behind the receptionist. It was 9:15. She moved through the series of felt cubicles that populated the center of the office, spun into her own special space and slipped into her chair. She turned on her computer and pulled a bottle of water out from the desk drawer. As she faced the screen, her mind was racing. She knew she would use every resource the magazine had to dig up information on Millard and Beau. She knew Beau had lived at the Gregoire estate. He spent the first fourteen years of his life running down its halls, playing in its rooms and exploring all the fabulous gardens that surrounded the 900-acre estate. She discovered that it was built between the years of 1789 and 1810 and the original grant from Louis XVI extended the vast land holdings from the Mississippi River dam near to what would eventually become Texas. The Civil War cost the family and the estate most of its acres as well as several lives of the Gregoire men and women. They died fighting alongside Ulysses S. Grant and a host of Confederate heroes. At one point the family split, taking different sides and of seven brothers, three fought for the North and four for the South. By 1865, five of the brothers were dead, as was the father and grandfather.
Eve grabbed her heart. The idea that so many from one family had died made her sad. It was a waste of lives, Eve thought. It was for a war where people were supposed to claim equality and end slavery. Maybe that was reason enough to die even though she knew it would take another hundred years before the dream of equality would actually be realized.
The next century brought Millard Le Masters into the lives of the Gregoire lineage. He married into the family and that was a big deal in the social circles but there was little information about the Le Masters and why they were considered prominent. She knew the Le Masters were latecomers compared to the Gregoires to begin their American legacy. They came over from France, but not until long after the French Revolution and just after the Civil War had ended. Still, she found out they were of minor French nobility, but had lost their land holdings coming to America as middle class immigrants. None the less, they came with a flurry, good business sense and luck. By the time Millard was born his father had established several businesses in and around the New Orleans area. The Civil War had been an economic strain on the country and the years that followed were a drain on any and every person that lived. The dawn of the industrial revolution brought substantial wealth to the Le Masters family. As Millard grew into a young man he saw the advent of planes, cars, phones, electricity and real indoor plumbing. Millard became a handsome young man, and he married Antoinette. He established several businesses, guided himself, his family and his son Philip into the social and political elite circles of New Orleans. Philip married Geraldine and moved into the Gregoire estate with Philip’s mother and father. Geraldine’s parents died not long after Beau’s younger sibling died. The next events read like something out of one of those unscripted TV documentary shows about serial killers.
“How are you feeling today?” Charles Delacroix asked.
Eve jumped, pulling back into the real world, “Oh!”
Charles leaned around the cubicle and smiled at her. It was a creepy, unnerving smile. He had a piece of spinach caught in his teeth and a bit of yellow mustard on his tie.
“So sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you,” he said.
“Hi,” she said and switched the screen to hide where she had been looking. “No, I was… just working on the exposé about the Governor’s dinner.”
“But you sent it to me last night at like 4 AM.” Charles said with a perplexed expression.
He always sounded condescending, even when he was trying to be pleasant. To top that off, she had no recollection of writing much less sending her review. Eve was sure she was losing her mind.
“Yes, right, I just had some additional thoughts,” Eve said.
“So, who was it that intrigued you,” Charles asked. “I felt, as I was reading that part where you talked about the guests, you were leaving something out.”
He reached over and hit the key that brought up the last screen. Millard Le Masters’ picture and name filled the monitor.
“Ah, yes, your hero,” Charles said. “I think it was fortuitous that he decided to go off to the bathroom and heard you fall.”
“What do you know about him?” Eve asked.
“What do you mean?” Charles replied.
“I mean, what do you know about him?” Eve asked. “His family seems to have deep roots in and around New Orleans and Baton Rouge.”
“Let’s just say, Millard Le Masters is not anyone I would want on my bad side,” Charles said. “His political fist has been around the necks of several governors, multiple senators, a host of congressmen and women as well as every mayor that New Orleans has had since the fifties.”
“And his family? His son died, along with his wife in a car crash. But what happened to his grandson?” Eve asked.
“I do remember something about that accident,” Charles said. “To the best of my recollection, the two kids died long before Philip and Geraldine. But you’re talking 20 years ago. So my memory may be a little bit rusty. What are you thinking?”
“There is no record of what happened to the boy. I was thinking of doing an exposé on Millard Le Masters, and even more interestingly, on the Gregoire estate.”
“No,” Charles said, adding a second and very emphatic, “No!”
Then he just stared at her. She couldn’t read if he was angry or frightened or just thought it would be a bad exposé.
“May I ask why?” she asked.
“Because I like you, Eve, and getting caught up in Southern politics can have a very negative effect on a budding new career. Like your own,” Charles said.
“Look. There is a Sugar Cane Festival in New Iberia for the next three days. Why don’t you pack up your car and go cover it for Southern Style. I’ll send you a list of names, people to meet – you know the usual suspects, Mayor, lead socialite, the event coordinators you’ll want to talk to when you get there.”
Charles walked away. He didn’t look back, but you could tell that he was not happy with her suggestion to do an exposé on Millard Le Masters. What she didn’t know was why. The deeper she dug into all the strange things that were happening to her, the more confusing and dark things got.
Eve looked back at the screen’s flashing cursor, a finger beckoning her to follow it deeper into the research. She was headed down a dark rabbit hole and the unreal world at the end was a Wonderland tea party she wasn’t sure she wanted to attend. As much as she wanted to know about Millard Le Masters, she wanted to know more about Beauregard Le Masters. She knew time was running out for him but something in her gut told her she needed information from Millard to get to Beau.
Eve typed into the Google search bar one, single word: NEPHILIM. Her hand hesitated over the enter key. Something inside of her didn’t want to know the answer to the question she had been avoiding since her visit with Evine. If Evine was right, and Beau wasn’t human, but some shape shifting being from another realm, she wasn’t sure she wanted to know. Eve wished in that moment that she was a coward so she could quietly walk away and forget all that had happened. But that wasn’t her nature. Her nature was to demand answers and more important to do whatever it took to know the truth.
Eve took a long, slow deep breath and hit the enter key. Just as she’d seen the night before when she refused to venture further, a picture of the Bible and the Torah appeared on screen. Why, she thought. Just below the religious links she saw the Wikipedia link. She moved her cursor, clicked and in the whir of a fleeting second the screen flashed and NEPHILIM appeared in 16 point, bold font. NEPHILIM: (noun, plural) The offspring of the “sons of God” and the “daughters of men.” The fallen.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
New Iberia was in Iberia Parish, Louisiana and the Sugar Cane Festival and Country Fair had been a staple for the last 71 years. There were bands, food contests, beauty pageants for babies, the young and older ladies. The most amazing quilts and homemade dolls
, jams, canned goods and anything that had sugar including the usual suspects like cakes, cookies, ice cream, bread pudding, taffy, cotton candy and fudge. The unusual suspects also had sugar, like BBQ, chili, spaghetti sauce, sugar-cured meats, sugar-dipped corn on the cob and several other things that made Eve’s teeth ache just thinking about having to eat them.
It was hot, insanely muggy and the air was filled with the smell of sugar. Tents and booths stood everywhere under the most magnificent oak and magnolia trees she’d ever seen in her life.
Anchoring the center of the event was a large stage that hosted local and imported talent. They played bluegrass and country, amazing fiddlers and lightning fingered banjo players, singers young and old, bands and solo performers from the ridiculous to the sublime. And so many different ethnicities of people, skin colors in hues that combined more colors than she ever knew existed.
Louisiana was the ultimate American melting pot; Whites from Spain and France, England, Ireland and Germany married or bred with Native Americans, Blacks from Africa and the Mayans from Central America. The result was a human rainbow of combinations. White skin and black hair with blue eyes, red hair with green eyes, blonde hair from honey to platinum and skin that ranged from café-au-lait to rich caramel and an almost gold and beautiful people with eyes that ran the gambit from sky to ink blue, emerald green, hazel, sable and rust and warm brown. Then there were the African blacks whose skin was so rich, deep and dark it looked like velvet. One man’s skin was midnight blue and another woman’s was burgundy as it caught the afternoon sun. She couldn’t help but think it had a silver hue that made her more beautiful than anyone Eve could ever remember. How beautiful humans could be when they joined their genetics in love and blended into one planet.
Night fell, the music played and the fireworks lit up the sky. Finally at midnight Eve slipped away and headed to the hotel Charles had booked her near the center of town.
As she drove she saw she’d missed a call from Cora but the reception was so terrible Eve could only make out bits and pieces of her message through the crackle and garble. She got that Cora had addresses and two telephone numbers for Millard in Baton Rouge and New Orleans. It seemed he had a place in the Bayou along the Gulf as well as in New Orleans proper. But as best as Eve could tell there was nothing about the last trip the family took and the potential whereabouts of Beau Le Masters. Cora said something about hiring a private investigator and then the line went dead. Eve returned the call but no matter how hard she tried, AT&T was not going to let them speak.
