by Kira Saito
“I’m listening Bade, but you’re not saying anything worthwhile.”
“You’re not listening. I’m not going to expose his identity.”
“Fine, then I’m going to ignore you again.”
“Stubborn Arelia, you think you’re untouchable. You’re not. Spirits are much more powerful than you think. You’re a fool for thinking that a few tricks are enough to protect you. Danger is everywhere if you’re not careful. The spirits have no problem punishing you.”
I refused to answer or acknowledge him. I felt Bade linger a bit longer before making a grand exit that left a gust of wind behind. Relief flooded over me. I had no idea what he meant, or if I could even take him seriously. Obviously, he enjoyed teasing and tormenting me with illogical riddles and games. Was there a deeper meaning behind his words?
“Is everything alright?” Lucus asked, gently placing his hand on my shoulder.
Crap. “How much did you hear?” I asked, as I turned around to face him.
“Everything,” he admitted, as he gave me a small, uncertain smile. “Everything you said, not the spirit.”
“I don’t want to talk about it.” I wasn’t exactly sure how I could explain what Bade had said. It was so cryptic and meaningless.
“I understand.” He nodded. He didn’t insist that I tell him what was going on which made me relax.
“So tell me, how did this whole thing start?” I asked conveniently changing the subject. “Were you born here?”
Lucus extended his arm. “Come with me and I’ll tell you everything.”
Chapter 3
Lucus LaPlante
As I placed my hand on his sturdy arm, my stomach did a little flip and anxiety washed over me. He led me down the marble stairs and towards the long oak-lined path. I dug my toes into the fresh earth and took a deep breath. I reminded myself that there was reason to be nervous.
In that exact moment, I was the happiest, and most horrified I had been, in a long time. Although Lucus’ knowledge of me was a bit freaky, maybe it was a sign that he did care for me. It scared me that he was able to read me so well. Somewhere, deep inside of me, I wanted to trust Lucus, but I knew that fairytales weren’t real. They were an epic fable created by parents who were too afraid to explain reality to their children. Ivan was right. Prince Charming always ended up with Barbie.
We stopped in front of a large bench made out of delicate white metal and sat down. Lucus’ face was tense. His eyes narrowed as he turned to face me.
“I’m waiting,” I said.
Lucus started his story. “It all began in 1830. My father, Jacque LaPlante, was an extremely wealthy merchant who immigrated to New Orleans from France.”
“Why did he leave France if he was so wealthy?” I asked.
“I suppose he had an insatiable appetite for adventure and the unknown. When he heard about the glorious chaos New Orleans was at that time, he wanted to be a part of it. He wanted to belong to a new world where opportunities and adventure existed in abundance. He was young, rich and handsome. The world was his for the taking. He had numerous friends here who had already established successful plantations. When he arrived, he fell in love with the land and immediately built Darkwood house. My father was a passionate collector of antiques and all things foreign. Darkwood was filled with imported goods from Spain, India, China, France, Italy, and Morocco. The finest things luxury could buy, most of which you still see in the house today. Oriental rugs, crystal chandeliers and marble statues for the garden, there was always something new. My mother always had the finest clothes and jewels. Her beauty and lifestyle were envied by all the women in New Orleans.”
“Was your mom from France too?”
Lucus shook his head. “No, she was already living in New Orleans when she met my father. They found one another at one of the many lavish balls that were held in the city. She was an exquisite beauty who came from a wealthy Spanish family. Captivated by her splendor and wit, my father proposed marriage the exact night they met.”
“Are you serious? One night? He proposed marriage after one measly night? How is that possible? I seriously doubt he fell in love with her that quickly!” The whole idea sounded beyond ridiculous to me.
Lucus grinned widely making the corner of his eyes crinkle. “You have an unwavering belief that love is supposed to be rational, don’t you?”
“It is.” I shrugged.
“LaPlante men simply know what they want.” His eyes gleamed.
I shook my head. “How did your mom react to his proposal?”
“My mother fell in love with him even though she was already betrothed at that time. She immediately called off her engagement and married my father the very next week.”
“That’s just insane and way too much drama.”
“How can you believe that? The greatest love stories are those filled with fire, passion and challenge. Look at Romeo and Juliet, Mark Antony and Cleopatra.”
I rolled my eyes. “Have you read the ending to all those stories? You do realize that everyone ends up dead, don’t you?”
“I have, but loving with intensity is far better than being restrained by fear and making choices based on safety and caution.”
“Sure, you only feel that way because you have forever.”
“Forever means nothing without love.” He insisted.
I had to stop myself from rolling my eyes again. “I think you’d feel completely different if you were an actual casualty of one of those fiery love stories.”
Lucus scratched his right temple. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, I guess my parents had that, but look where it got them. Nothing good came out of it.”
“You came out of it.” Lucus grinned.
“Whatever.” I brushed off his comment, as I dug my toe into the mud beneath my feet. I tried to stop the smile that was slowly forming across my face. Was I seriously becoming one of those girls that turned into mush when a guy used a corny line on her? “I guess we’ll have to disagree.”
“I suppose we will.” A large grin was still plastered across his face.
“So tell me more about your mom.” I wanted the totally awkward moment to end already.
Lucus took a lock of my hair between his fingers. “Her hair was the same enchanting color as yours, dark as ebony. She had the kindest, liveliest brown eyes. They always filled with such excitement when she played the piano. I remember nights when she used to sit with her back to the large French windows in the ballroom and played for hours. She loved entertaining the many guests we had at Darkwood. At that time, Louis Moreau Gottschalk was extremely popular amongst the upper class and was often invited to play at Darkwood. He was a child prodigy only a few years older than me at that time, but with the musical skills of a man beyond his years.”
“Sounds like a fairytale,” I said, as I tried to picture the lavish balls that were held at Darkwood.
“It was, up to a point. Parties, excess, luxury, it was all a world that my parents were obsessed with and felt entitled to. However, they were kind people. My father often personally visited the slaves in the fields to make sure that they were being treated humanely. He was a well-respected and loved man, extremely popular because of his unselfish nature. Alas, the one thing that my parents wanted the most was the one thing that was the hardest for them to attain.”
“What?” My eyes widened.
“A child.” Lucus let out a heavy sigh.
“But they had you.”
Lucus paused for a few seconds before continuing. His lips were tense, and I could tell he was choosing his words carefully. “Before I was conceived, my mother and father tried unsuccessfully for five long years. Soon, the pressure of constantly being disappointed began to place a strain on their relationship. There were rumors that my father had a few mistresses at this time, but nothing was ever proven. Besides, even if that were the case, my mother loved my father too much to leave.”
“How do you know all this if you weren’t
even born?”
“The house staff loved to gossip, especially our cook, who took pleasure in recounting tales of what happened at Darkwood before my time. Anyhow, when I was born in 1836, my father was overwhelmed with so much joy and pride that I became his most prized possession. There wasn’t a thing he didn’t purchase for me. He gave into my every demand. My mother was the same. I suppose they were so grateful for a child that they didn’t realize that they were indulging me.”
1836. He had been born in 1836. I tried to do the math. I was horrible with numbers and found myself counting on my fingers. Sadly, I didn’t have enough fingers and stared at my toes for help.
“176 years old.” Lucus caught me.
176, he was 176 years old. He didn’t look 176. He looked. Well…
“You never had any brothers or sister?” I asked, trying to think of anything but his age.
Darkness clouded Lucus’ features and for a moment, he looked hopelessly gloomy. “No, they were never able to conceive another child after me. As I mentioned before, I became their world. They gave me everything. I was spoiled, ungrateful and felt entitled. I knew I was going to inherit everything, so I had no reason to worry about finding a profession. I spent my days lazing around Dark wood and my nights enjoying the splendor of New Orleans.”
“I was right. You did spend way too much time thinking about your hair, didn’t you?”
Lucus let out a deep laugh. “I must admit, it did occupy my thoughts on some days.”
“I knew it!” I exclaimed. “That’s why it’s so long.”
“If I cut it, it simply grows back within a few seconds.” Lucus adamantly defended the length of his hair. “This was the length it was when the curse was placed upon me.”
“Sure, I believe you,” I teased. “So, what was New Orleans like back then?”
“What a splendid city it was at that time! Filled with eager immigrants from Italy, Ireland, Haiti, France, Spain, Germany, it was the epitome of possibilities and dreams. Merchants and ports brought in new opportunities from all corners of the globe. It was a time of magic and dangerous superstitions, both savage and seductively beautiful.”
Lucus hypnotized me with his tale. As he spoke, I could smell the streets of the city, the ports, the danger mingled with hope and desperation. It all sounded so familiar yet exotic. Present day New Orleans was pretty much the same. Although I often dreamed of travelling to faraway places, in my heart, I knew that there was no other place I wanted to live.
“The wealthy led lives of incomparable luxury while the slaves toiled in the fields. At that time, I was too self-absorbed to give their plight a second thought. I felt invincible; wealth and privilege were my greatest weapons. There wasn’t a man in New Orleans who was crazy enough to defy or challenge me. After all, my family was the most powerful.” He took a dramatic pause before continuing. “Except for one.”
“Who?” I whispered.
Lucus cracked his knuckles and looked up at the stars before running his hands through his thick hair. His expression was hard. It was clear that he wasn’t ready to tell me everything. I was dying to know, but it was pointless demanding that he tell me. I wasn’t ready to tell him all my secrets.
“It’s okay,” I whispered.
He let out small sigh. His mouth relaxed. His eyes found mine. “I want to tell you, I do.”
“If you wanted to, you would have done so already,” I reasoned.
“You’ll think less of me.” His voice was frail and pained.
“You don’t know that.”
“I think less of myself,” he said.
I wanted to scream: Tell me! Tell me! But I didn’t. Instead, I pretended to be totally calm and collected. “Look, I can’t make you tell me stuff, but if you want me to help you, you’re eventually going to have to learn how to trust me. You say that I don’t trust you, but it’s clear that you don’t trust me either.”
Lucus took in my words and reflected on them carefully before speaking. “I suppose trust will come in time for the both of us.”
I shrugged. “I guess maybe it will. Why don’t you have any pictures or paintings of your parents or anyone else?” I asked, changing the subject. Since arriving at Darkwood, I hadn’t seen a single one anywhere. It seemed as if the walls had been stripped of them all.
“Why?” Lucus tugged on his t-shirt.
“Well, it’s a little weird.”
He hesitated before replying. “No good has come out of staring at them day in and day out. I’ve spent much too long living in the past. I’ve watched each and every one I’ve ever loved die in front of me. My mother, my father, house staff, cousins, lovers.”
I cringed at the word lovers. How many lovers had he had? Was he still in love with one of these lovers? Who used the word lovers anyways? It sounded like such a French thing. Well, he was half-French. Suddenly, all I could think of was some extravagant ball where Lucus was dancing with one of his lovers, drinking expensive champagne and laughing. What had his lovers looked like? Had they been tall, thin and impossibly rich? Were they blondes with humongous boobs or did he have brunette lovers. Had he made loud, passionate love with his lovers? Is that why he used the phrase loud, passionate love? Lovers. What a stupid word. Why was it bugging me so much? I was beginning to sound like Sabrina, whenever she had a new crush and went on a Facebook stalking spree. Only, I didn’t have a crush or anything. Snap out of it Arelia, I told myself.
Lucus continued. “I’ve lost count of how many days and nights I’ve mourned endlessly for each and every one of them, resenting myself for being the only one unable to perish. Innumerable hours have been spent sitting in the Darkwood cemetery staring at their graves, gazing at paintings and pictures of people who are now mere memories. After each and every death, I was convinced that their ghosts had come back to Darkwood. I chased them down the halls and corridors like a madman refusing to let go. I swore that they visited me in dreams. I asked your great-great and great grand-mere to hold elaborate rituals and ceremonies, so I could get in contact. I had them make voodoo dolls of lost loved ones, which I kept in the chapel that rests inside the Darkwood cemetery. I spoke to them as if they were real. I was never successful in contacting their souls. I suppose souls that find peace no longer have any business visiting the damned. I invited numerous shamans and spiritual leaders into Darkwood, hoping that they could help me. Each one brought their own philosophies, crosses from ancient faiths, and opinions on what needed to be done. None of it worked.”
He glanced over at me. “Do you find all this terribly dull and dreary?”
“No.” I shook my head. “I want to know more.”
As he spoke, I imagined myself trapped at Darkwood chasing apparitions down hallways and staring at paintings of dead loved ones. How had Lucus survived for so long while keeping his sanity? I was almost afraid to ask, too scared of the answer, but I did it anyway. “How did you keep yourself from going insane?” I asked, morbidly curious.
“I wasn’t sane. I found my days and nights blurring into one never ending nightmare. I became obsessed with holding on to everything that I had lost. I refused to clean out chests and rooms, determined to keep everything ageless. Rooms and rooms were preserved with ancient clothes, perfumes and jewelry. At one point, I was positive that it was just all a dream, and I would wake up. Years passed, and I never did. Your family was the only one who kept me company. They kept me in contact with the outside world, but I never allowed myself to become too attached. I knew that if I did, I would eventually lose them, and the bitter cycle would continue. I tried to take my own life twice, but I was never successful. I would suffer immense pain, but my body always found a way to heal itself up.”
I felt an excruciating pang of sadness for him. The mere thought of him trying to kill himself made me queasy. I tried to think of something to say, but my mind was blank. What could I say? There were no generic sweeping words of wisdom that would suddenly change what he had been through. It wasn’t a moment that
some quote off a Hallmark card could fix. I did the only thing I could do; I placed my sticky hand over his and gave it a tight squeeze. Maybe being trapped in a huge mansion with piles of money was a lot more difficult than it seemed.
A few moments of silence elapsed between us before I cleared my throat. “I understand. After my grand-pere passed away, I spent weeks and weeks just staring at his picture. I was afraid that I would forget him altogether. He was the only dad I ever knew and the loss of him was unbearable. I’m pretty sure the stress of his death is what caused grand-mere’s heart attack. My mom never even came back for the funeral.”
I thought back to that awful phone call that had taken place between my mom and grand-mere. She had claimed that she was too busy to come to the funeral. Apparently, the last sixteen years had kept her immensely occupied.
“I’m sorry. I can only imagine how difficult it must be.” Lucus’ voice was soft and solemn as he placed a protective arm around my shoulders and drew me close to him. For an instant, I forgot what we were talking about and inhaled sharply. The night air mixed with his cologne-free scent made me dizzy. Why did he have to smell so good?
“Sometimes it is, but it makes me appreciate those I have more.” I looked up at him. “Why did you finally decide to clean out all those rooms?” I asked.
His eyes shone. “I realized that life itself is a gift. While wars raged and people starved in the outside world, I sat in Darkwood feeling sorry for myself. I decided I no longer wanted to live like a madman muttering to invisible ghosts, speaking only to voodoo dolls and roaming the halls like a zombie.” He took a deep breath, “and because of you.”
I let go of his hand and pulled away from him. “What do you mean?”
“Your Aunt Mae confided in me about what she had done. She made an offering to Erzulie on your behalf. Why Erzulie chose to bless you is puzzling. To my knowledge no other queen has been successful in obtaining her blessing. I remember that day so clearly. Mae came to Darkwood in tears. She was practically inconsolable because of the argument she had with your grand-mere. In her heart, she was sure she had done the right thing, but your grand-mere never saw it that way.”
