BREAKING CURSED BONDS

by Elisabeth Zguta

  Jeremy put the pages down and listened to her explanation.

  “I think that somehow the pledge of two warriors turned into a curse and has followed the de Gourgues lineage since,” she said. “Jeremy, this ceremony happened, that’s a reality, and I think that it either created or warped into this curse all those years ago. Do you believe in it now?”

  Jeremy picked the papers up again, shaking his head. “I don’t know what to think. I’ve never heard of anything like this before. I wish my Uncle Thaddeus was here so I could ask him his opinion, he was the historian, not me. I do know that the Church believes in possessions and strange things, supernatural things, that can happen, but this? I wonder if something this supernatural exists in a context that we can even try to end.”

  “Let’s go visit my friend in the anthropology department,” Emilie suggested. “Maybe he can shed some light on this bizarre story. Maybe there is a scientific explanation.” After a second she added, “So that means we’re both Catholic?”

  “Yes, I guess we both are. Most English are Protestant, but my family held on to our Catholicism. My mother’s side, the Rileys, are originally from Ireland and definitely Catholic.” He pondered for a moment. “Do you by chance know a priest in the area who might be knowledgeable about this kind of thing? It’s not the usual subject that comes up in conversation, but maybe one of the locals could help us at least determine if this could be real, on the spiritual level, I mean. The Church must know about curses.”

  She smiled. Father Eddie immediately came to mind, and she knew he could illuminate more about the curse. He did after all know all about the Voodoo in New Orleans, so why not curses, too?

  “It’s getting late. How about I visit my friend Steve, in the anthropology department, and you go to the rectory of my church and ask to speak with Father Eddie? This way we can get more done. I’ll just call to make sure he’s available, but I’m sure he’ll make time.”

  “Sounds like a plan.”

  He gave her a gentle kiss and they both left in different directions.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Jeremy drove to the address Emilie had given him and parked his truck in front of the church. He took a moment to appreciate the warm day and the beautiful, late-afternoon sunshine. He wasn’t used to so many sunny days in a row. He got out and climbed the porch steps of the rectory, then rang the doorbell. He was greeted by a proper-looking woman, her attire plain and businesslike, her hair pulled back neatly. She had a pleasant smile and a soft Southern voice.

  “Can I help you, young man?”

  “Yes, thank you. I’m here on behalf of Emilie de Gourgues, my name is Jeremy Laughton. I believe Emile called Father Eddie. He should be expecting me.”

  An instant smile crossed the woman’s face at the mention of Emilie. “Yes, yes of course. Why didn’t you say so? Please come in. I’ll let the Reverend know you’re here.”

  Jeremy waited for Father Eddie in the front hall, which reminded him of his youthful days in Jesuit school. Images of waiting in line at the confessional crowded his mind. He wondered if the third degree he should have gotten from Emilie’s father would be in store for him now, delivered by her priest instead. He straightened out his khaki pants and tucked in his golf shirt, then paced uneasily. Moments later, Father Eddie entered the room.

  The Reverend was a formidable-looking character, a big man who could have passed for a mobster if not for his collar. The priest held out his hand in greeting. Swallowing hard, Jeremy willed himself not to sweat. He reached his hand out and met the older man’s grip.

  “Hello, Mr. Laughton,” Father Eddie said with a smile.

  Jeremy realized right then why Father Eddie was Emilie’s favorite priest. His voice sounded of benevolence. “Good afternoon, Father, thank you for seeing me without notice.”

  Eddie chuckled. “I’ve been waiting to meet you. My friend, Pierre, mentioned you to me. I hear you’re a special friend to our Miss Emilie. I am a little surprised she’s not with you today.”

  Father Eddie escorted Jeremy through the first floor to a nice breezy screened porch in the back of the house. The woman who had answered the door brought out a tray with cold sweet tea and homemade pastries.

  “So you Englishmen like tea, right? Does it matter if it’s cold?”

  He motioned for Jeremy to be seated and, still smiling, handed him a cold glass of sweet tea. The condensation on the glass dripped and Jeremy grabbed a napkin. He sat back in the chair and tried to get comfortable. To him, sweet tea wasn’t the same as real tea at all, but only an excuse for a sugar rush. He sipped the drink anyway, and aimed to be sociable.

  “So what brings you here today, Mr. Laughton? Emilie didn’t give any details, just mentioned you’d be stopping by. What can I do for you?”

  Father Eddie smiled attentively as he waited for Jeremy to answer. Jeremy wiggled uncomfortably in his seat, still not completely at ease with his task.

  “To be honest, I’m not certain how to begin. First, I realize how much Emilie’s family means to her, and you may have gathered that I’ve become very fond of Emilie in the short time that we’ve known each other.”

  He paused. The depth of what he felt for her, in fact, still surprised Jeremy. He wiped his forehead with the napkin. He was sweating more than usual, and not only because of the humid air. He decided to be blunt.

  “Father Eddie, I am concerned for Emilie. When it comes to her family, well, she appears to bear the emotional burden of keeping them a family. I know I haven’t been here long, but I haven’t seen any of them return her affections. In fact, they seem rather mean to her, and dismissive. Emilie is intuitive, and she feels their issues deeply. She worries about them all. I’m honestly concerned for her happiness.”

  Father Eddie’s eyes widened, clearly surprised by Jeremy’s candor. He sat quiet for a moment in contemplation, digesting his words.

  “You’re very observant, Mr. Laughton. Emilie feels the emotional burden of her family, as well as others. She always has, even as a little girl. She’s brimming with empathy, a rare gift, much like her mother, who was also very gifted spiritually. You’re correct about the traumatic weight she carries. I have known the family for a long time, and I see it, too.

  “I knew their mother, Bethany. She was a wonderful person, so full of life and pure of heart. When she died, a big part of Pierre died too, and the children . . . well, they were traumatized, of course. But Emilie, she’s the only one who stayed near her father. She appreciated his pain and wanted desperately to reach his heart. Now that Robert has come home, she’s trying to mend bridges between her father and brother. I’m not sure if her endeavor is even possible.”

  Father Eddie sipped his drink and took a moment to think. Jeremy could tell he was choosing his words carefully, wanting to express something important.

  “A broken heart can never be perfectly mended, there are always scars,” Eddie said in a soft voice, as if revealing a secret. “That is what Emilie will have to accept one day.” He smiled. “I am hopeful for her future now that she has a friend like you, though, Jeremy. I can see that you’ll be very good for her. Like Pierre, her father, you respect the Church and I can see that you believe in love, but I think that’s where your likeness ends. The possibilities for you both are infinite, if you uphold your faith together.”

  Jeremy felt a renewed confidence, now that a priest had validated his feelings.

  “Thank you, Father. I want to be there for Emilie and I think we could have a great future together, but right now there is something holding her back and she needs time to work her way through. I hope you understand.”

  “Yes, I do,” Eddie said.

  A few quiet moments passed as they sipped the tea. Jeremy shifted nervously, uncomfortable in his chair, thinking about the curse and wondering how he should broach that bizarre topic with a priest.

  “This is great tea, Father. I hope you don’t mind, but I’d like to talk to you about something else, too. I’m not
sure how to say this.”

  “You haven’t had a problem so far, young man. Start from the beginning. That’s always best.”

  Jeremy jumped in, allowing the pieces to fall where they would. “Emilie and I are working on this project of sorts. Not really a project, well you see, it started with my uncle. He had acquired an ancient journal, that’s why Emilie’s not here. She’s translating it now, it was written in French and it’s dated back to the 1560s and is a little difficult to read due to its age. Sorry, I digress.”

  He laughed at himself. “At any rate, this journal describes a special ceremony performed back in 1565. It seems probable that this ceremony may have turned into a curse of some sort, and that curse is now hanging over the de Gourgues family.”

  Jeremy noticed the look on Eddie’s face, and stopped talking. Is he shocked? No, his expression is more like fear. The priest’s eyes stared off, dazed, and his skin was chalk white.

  “Father, are you all right?”

  Jeremy’s face burned, embarrassed that he had said such a preposterous thing to a priest. Father Eddie turned to Jeremy and studied his face. He must think I’m crazy.

  “I know about the book. What exactly does it say about the curse? I need to know everything.”

  Instantly, he was relieved when he heard the priest’s interest. Now he could talk about all of this with Father Eddie openly. Memories of his Uncle Thaddeus surfaced, and he wondered what Thad would have done with the translation.

  Jeremy explained everything they had uncovered so far about the ceremony that took place and the supposed crossing into the spirit world. He told the story as best he could, and mentioned the wooden carved idols used as talismans. Father Eddie listened, fixated.

  “Emilie’s father is my good friend,” Eddie said. “Pierre came to me and asked for my help when that stranger, Pierce, came to him extorting money for information.” He took a deep breath, and hung his head as he exhaled.

  “I’m afraid this whole situation is a bit too real for me. Some of my parishioners in my old parish, St Bernard’s…well, they still practice Voodoo. Despite my attempts to lure them away from it, they speak of the curses. I’m ashamed to say that I was the one who opened the door to the possibility of the supernatural, and asked for their help. I had no choice, I needed to protect Pierre somehow. Being a man of faith, I should never have given credence to such superstitious beliefs, but this curse business scares the hell out of me.”

  Jeremy noticed Father Eddie held onto the chained cross that adorned his neck, rubbing the crucifix with his thumb.

  “The Church believes in possession and evil spirits, so I figured why not curses too? These poor women’s souls were cursed, only because they loved their own husbands. Their marriages were sanctioned in the Church’s sacrament, yet the Church had no protection for them. Curses will devour a person’s soul if not stopped.”

  Jeremy struggled to understand. Deep down he had hoped that a priest would have grounded them somehow, but Father Eddie encouraged this vein of speculation. “Father Eddie, you’re a scholar, how can you leap to this extreme?”

  Beads of sweat covered Eddie’s brow. “My friend, the human mind can create reality, when something is believed in the heart. I am questioning my own beliefs here too, and pray for spiritual guidance. I need to confirm whether or not this is a curse, and if so, it must end now. Years have passed since the death of Emilie’s mother, but it’s still very raw for me, too. We can’t allow this to continue now that we are aware of its existence.”

  Morbid sadness filled the silence. Jeremy didn’t know what to say or do.

  “Robert will be facing this lethal legacy someday,” Eddie continued. “If we can fix this, then he’ll be able to marry Rachael without concern for her premature demise. I owe the family that much, as their friend and servant.”

  Just at that moment, a much-needed cool breeze swept through the porch. The screens rippled as the wind skimmed the surface. Jeremy relaxed, sinking into the porch chair cushion. He was thankful he had met with the Reverend. Now there was someone else working with them on their quest. Father Eddie clearly wanted to help, and if he believed in this too, then maybe they weren’t crazy after all.

  “Jeremy, let me explain some of the rituals that members in my previous congregation shared with me. When it comes to curses, they’re usually broken with a counter-spell, or a strong gris-gris. But this is not just an ordinary spell we’re talking about. It was a bond in the spirit world, a pledge. In this situation, the best thing we can do is make sure that all the parties involved with the spell or curse are gone. I mean completely gone.” He sliced his hands through the air.

  Jeremy was bewildered again. “Father, they are gone. They died centuries ago.”

  “Ah, yes they’re dead, but maybe we need to burn the bones or what’s left of them anyway. Maybe the threat is still here in this world because of the wooden idols. If the effigies you mentioned that were used in the ceremony are gone, maybe it will erase the curse, which may still cling to the objects associated with it.”

  “So, you think that will work? All we need to do is destroy the bones and idols? It sounds so…so…so…”

  “So morbid?” Eddie finished. “Yes, I think it is too, but that is all that’s left of them in this world. If all elements of them are expunged, then maybe the curse will uproot also… It’s the only possible solution I’ve been able to think of, so far.”

  Jeremy considered the idea. Memories sprang to mind of old movies he’d watched as a kid, where cursed mummies and zombies raged in a frenzy against prospectors digging for artifacts around them. The idea bothered Jeremy, but he had no alternative plan to pitch, so he agreed to go along with the one Eddie proposed. Still, he couldn’t help but wonder if the priest might have swampland in Florida to sell, too.

  “Very well, Father Eddie, you’ve sold me. It sounds like the idea has farfetched possibilities. First we’ll figure out where the chief was buried, and then the captain. Then if we can locate the wooden idols used, maybe we can end this madness for good. We have a lot more research to do, but Emilie and I will get cracking. I certainly miss my Uncle Thaddeus, now more than ever.”

  “There’s just one more thing. Please don’t spill a word of this to Robert.”

  “Not a problem, Father. I don’t trust him anyway.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  Emilie carefully wrapped the old book, gathered her research, and headed for Manning Hall, which housed the anthropology department on campus. At the front desk, she signed in and asked for her friend and old classmate, Steve, to be paged. Recently bestowed the title of professor, Steve worked on the third floor, home to the research area. He had completed casework on digs and was considered a national authority in Mayan writings.

  Steve entered the reception area, greeting Emilie warmly. He towered over her, and wrapped his long arm around her with a hug, sporting a wide smile that complemented his large dark eyes. He had the body of a basketball player but had always claimed he hated the sport.

  “Oh my Lord, look who’s gracing us with her presence. It’s been ages. How have you been, Miss Emilie?”

  “I’m great, thanks. I hear you’re engaged these days. Congrats.”

  “You know I had no choice, since you won’t have me,” he laughed. He teased with his familiar Southern drawl, just like always. The sight of him brought back warm memories of their college years together, study groups that rolled into late-night talks over wine and beer.

  “Seriously, I’m happy, Emilie. My girl loves to go on digs, too. I know you’ll love her too.” He beamed.

  “Soon we’ll get together, I promise. But no time for fraternizing now, I need your expertise. A friend of mine owns a precious artifact. It’s a book, and we need to decipher some designs and drawings. I hoped you might have some insight.”

  “No problem. It sounds intriguing.”

  They moved up to his office, taking the elevator. Emilie placed her bag down and carefully sli
d the book onto his desk, then reverently unwrapped it. Steve stared, mesmerized.

  “This book is in pretty good condition,” he said.

  He snapped on some rubber gloves and carefully touched the volume, rambling on about possible tests for the page material and inks, to verify an exact date when it had been penned. As he examined the artifact, Emilie conveyed some of the story she had translated from the text in the journal.

  “So, do you know anything about the journal’s subject? And check out the drawings,” she said.

  “The true Timucua language and culture are extinct,” he said, ”so there’s no real way to know anything for certain. The early Europeans tried to document what they observed, but there’s a strong chance they misinterpreted much of what they witnessed because they didn’t understand the language well.”

  Steve scratched his head, deep in thought. Emilie noticed the mood in the room changing; a covetous emotion radiated from him. Even someone as down to earth as Steve could be tempted by the possibility of notoriety.

  “Here is the interesting part, as far as I’m concerned,” he said. “There’s a theory that the Timucua tribe traded with tribes from the West Indies, and that they were heavily influenced by them. They imitated some of the same ceremonial drinks and customs. You see, there were many trade routes among various tribes before the Europeans colonized the area. Recent theorists in the anthropological world speculate the Timucua tribe had customs that actually originated in South America and worked their way north to the Florida region. Just leave the book with me for a bit, and I’ll see what I can uncover, this may prove to be the link that could substantiate that theory. This is a significant piece of evidence.”

  Emilie held up her hand.

  “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, Steve. I just need some help understanding these hieroglyphics. Look at these drawings. I think they may be demonstrating something about a ceremony the Timucua performed.”