Nancy K. Duplechain - Dark Trilogy 02 - Dark Carnival

by Nancy K. Duplechain

  DARK CARNIVAL

  Volume 2 of

  THE DARK TRILOGY

  A novel by

  Nancy K. Duplechain

  Copyright © 2012 by Nancy K. Duplechain

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored, or transmitted by any means—whether auditory, graphical, mechanical, or electronic—without written of both publisher and author, except in the cased of brief excerpts used in critical articles and reviews. Unauthorized reproduction of any part of this work is illegal and is punishable by law.

  The characters and event portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

  Visit author website: www.NancyKDuplechain.com

  For Mom, who always told me that I can be anything I want to be.

  I noticed countless eyes following me. They belonged to shop-keeps closing up for the night, the homeless watching me from their makeshift beds, call girls pretending to wait for their next tricks on the corners, but all the while, wary of my every move. I didn’t belong here and they knew it. I could feel Les Foncés all around me, too, watching me from behind the tombs of the cemeteries, waiting for me around the corners of St. Louis Cathedral. With each breeze that floated off the Mississippi, I could feel their breath on my neck.

  “Everybody have a dark side.” – Papa Mulogo

  Contents

  1

  The Next Step

  2

  Voodoo and Beignets

  3

  Meeting the Master

  4

  When You’re a Stranger

  5

  Nadia

  6

  Another Saturday Night

  7

  Rough Ride

  8

  A Day for Sun

  9

  A Dark Night in City Park

  10

  Ain’t No Sunshine

  11

  Heroes and Villains

  12

  Noah’s Labyrinth

  13

  A Sacrifice

  14

  Carrie Comes to NOLA

  15

  A Grim Rule

  16

  The Lion’s Den

  17

  Ruby’s Reprisal

  18

  Back to Acadiana

  19

  A Request

  20

  The Line

  EPILOGUE

  1

  The Next Step

  I had never seen a funeral for a priest until now. Death in the Deep South is a spectacle. Funerals are black-tie events with friends and relatives carrying on with laughter, tears, food and alcohol. This seems especially true in Acadiana, that region of Louisiana which makes up Cajun country. I’ve seen too many funerals in my twenty-six years, burying mostly family—grandparents, parents, brother and sister-in-law. I can only imagine how many funerals my grandmother, Maw Maw Clothilde, had seen in her lifetime.

  The ceremony for Father Ben Olivier was held at St. John’s, the church where he was the pastor for over fifty years. The church was decked out in white and gold, and hundreds of faithful parishioners, nuns and priests showed their respect by attending the service. The archbishop himself led the mass, impressed by the dedication of God’s representative, who now rested in a mahogany casket in the center aisle. He was laid to rest in the cemetery behind the church. “The dead speak,” Father Ben had told me once on that same hallowed ground. I sadly wondered if he would speak again one day.

  I was never a religious person and not even a spiritual one until a few months ago when Father Ben and my grandmother first informed me about my destiny. I was to follow in their footsteps—the path of the paladin. Ben had told me the story of the paladins, those holy knights, descendants of Charlemagne and his twelve retainers; bestowed with great gifts to aid them in battling Les Foncés, the Dark Ones. My grandmother and I, as well as my orphaned, ten-year-old niece Lyla, were from Charlemagne’s bloodline, while Ben came from the knight Oliver’s bloodline. Our gift was that of healing. His was that he could see the future. I wondered if he had seen his own death approaching. After battling the forces of evil most of his life, it was a heart attack that finally took him.

  The funeral reception was held in the church center to accommodate everyone. Had it not been for the dominant black hue in the crowd’s attire, the gathering could have easily been mistaken for a wedding reception from the buffet table alone. Pies, cakes, fruit and vegetable trays, at least four different kinds of meat and a gigantic punch bowl took over every inch of the table which spanned nearly half the back wall. I noticed Cee Cee Baptiste, Clothilde’s friend and fellow paladin, near the dessert table. She was a Creole of Color from New Orleans, and I would soon be staying with her for awhile so I could train as a Traiteur, a healer in the Cajun culture. I had yet to meet my trainer, but Clothilde assured me that he was the best one to teach me.

  After the reception, I drove Clothilde and myself back to her house in Abbeville where I had been staying since I moved back home from Los Angeles. The two-story house with the chipped white paint and the large pond in front was my second home when I was growing up. Now it was my primary home, sharing it with Clothilde and Lyla, though I sometimes longed for a place of my own when the generation gaps affected me most.

  Lucas, my late brother’s childhood friend and partner in the Lafayette P.D., was waiting for us to return. He babysat Lyla and his son Jonathan while we attended the funeral. It was a little rough between Lucas and me for awhile. When I found out I was a paladin, I had to keep it a secret from him, but he soon found out and then discovered that his own little boy was one, too. Ever since, we’ve been dancing around each other with considerable awkwardness. I guess it wouldn’t have been as awkward if we hadn’t shared a couple of intimate moments.

  When we got back home from the service, Clothilde and I walked into the house to hear Lyla laughing and saw Jonathan lifting Lucas high above his head. He certainly didn’t let his Down syndrome slow him down.

  “Son, you have until the count of three to put me down!” ordered Lucas. This brought on a fit of giggles from Jonathan. “One…Two…”

  That was as far as Lucas got when Jonathan gently put his father on the floor. Lucas gave his best stern face to Jonathan, who just kept giggling. Lucas looked at me helplessly. “He keeps picking me up! I don’t know what to do.” I tried to hide my grin. I looked over at Lyla who was still laughing, and that set me off into a fit of laughter. Lucas angrily stared me down.

  “Ya give him a good swat on his behind and he’ll stop,” said Clothilde, who did not put up with any such behavior from a child.

  “I’m not hitting my son,” said Lucas.

  “I didn’t say hit, I said swat! If you don’t correct him now, he’ll walk all over you.” She eyed Jonathan and beckoned him with her finger. “Come here, little boy.” Jonathan’s giggles stopped short, and he shook his head, his mouse-brown hair swishing from side to side, and he quickly hid behind his daddy’s legs. He knew Clothilde would correct him, so he was sure to keep his distance. Ever since he discovered his super strength, we couldn’t let his regular sitter discover his secret ability, so Clothilde took over watching him when Lucas had to work.

  “It’s okay, Miss Clo. I’ll have a talk with him later,” said Lucas.

  “Talk don’t work with children. But you his daddy, so what do I know? I have to go make supper.”

  “Didn’t y’all eat over there?”

  “Too many people,” I said. “I wasn’t hungry, anyway. I don’t know how
people can stuff themselves after someone dies.”

  “It’s all part of celebrating the soul passing onto the next life,” said Clothilde.

  “I noticed you didn’t eat anything, either.”

  “Pfft! None of them old women can cook worth a shit!”

  Lucas rolled his eyes. Lyla and Jonathan burst out in a fit of giggles again, and Lyla comically fell to the floor, holding her gut.

  “Maw Maw!” I scolded.

  “Mais, it’s true!”

  “Maybe you shouldn’t say that in front of the kids?”

  She muttered something in Cajun and then announced that she was going to start preparing supper. She walked out the back door, probably to get some ingredients from the garden shed which she had long ago converted into a makeshift outdoor kitchen. Lucas and I both shook our heads at the kids still laughing on the floor.

  “All right, Jon. You ready to go?” said Lucas.

  “Nooo! I want to stay and play some more!”

  “Why don’t you stay for supper?” I asked.

  Lucas looked me in the eyes briefly and then looked away. “I … I don’t know. We should, uh—”

  “Please?” I hoped he would stay. I wanted to get back to normal with him again, if there was such a thing as normal anymore with these new realities of ours—realities where the impossible was possible, like his six-year-old son having super strength, and Lyla and Clothilde and I being able to magically heal the sick and injured. Although, out of the three of us, Clothilde was the only one skilled enough to do that. Lyla could only heal animals at the moment, and I couldn’t heal anything without Clothilde’s help.

  “Well … okay. Jon? You want to—”

  “YAY! We’re staying for supper!” cheered Jonathan. I smiled, relieved. Lucas smiled too, but he still looked uncomfortable.

  “Lyla, why don’t you go help Maw Maw Clo get what she needs from the outdoor kitchen,” I said.

  She grabbed Jonathan by the hand. “C’mon.” The two of them ran out the back door, and for a second they looked like brother and sister and everything seemed just fine in my world. I felt like I had a family. My parents and brother were gone, but ever since I moved back to Louisiana, I regained that sense of family, living with Clothilde and Lyla. And for this split second, I felt that family extend with Jonathan and Lucas, even if Lucas was still hesitant. In truth, when I thought about him being part of the family, part of me was uncomfortable, too. I would love for him to be with us always, but I didn’t know in what capacity. Just as Lyla’s godfather? Or in a deeper relationship with me?

  “So, how you been lately?” His question brought me out of my deep thought and, when I looked at him, I was surprised that he was looking at me now.

  “Uh, good. And you? How’ve you been lately?”

  He shrugged. “Still trying to get used to all of this. I wish that I could understand what it’s like for him. For y’all, too.”

  “Well, I feel the same. I’m still human. So is Jon. Maybe you should just think of it as him being really good at a certain sport, but his particular sport is weight lifting.”

  He grinned. “Weight lifting. Yeah. So, you ready to go to New Orleans?”

  “I guess so. Cee Cee said she’s excited to have me over.”

  “You don’t sound so excited.”

  “I’m just not sure what to expect. I’m not that good at … you know,” I said, meaning my ability. Lucas nodded, understanding and suddenly more uncomfortable. I was temporarily relieved when the back door swung open and Lyla came running in, until I saw that she was near tears, with Jonathan right behind her. She hid behind me and Jonathan hid behind her.

  “What’s going on?” asked Lucas, his voice edging on worry.

  “I was just trying to help! Don’t let her switch me!” pleaded Lyla.

  Clothilde came in through the back door, hurrying as best she could with her weak knees, a lock of her snow white hair in her eyes, carrying a switch with her and looking for Lyla. “Come back here, little girl!” she scolded.

  “What happened?” I asked.

  Clothilde caught up to us as Lyla remained behind me, cowering. “I was going to make a chicken gumbo for supper!”

  “And …?”

  “And every time I tried to kill a chicken, she’d heal it!”

  “Oh, my God,” I said, rolling my eyes. “Do you have to kill a chicken?”

  “Well, how else do you expect me to make a chicken gumbo?”

  “There’s chicken in the freezer. I bought it yesterday.”

  “From the store!”

  “It’s perfectly good chicken!”

  “Ladies, let’s just calm down, okay?” said Lucas. “Miss Clo, now I know you’re the best cook in Acadiana, and I’m sure that you can work miracles with store-bought chicken, can’t you, darlin’?” He smiled at her with his hazel eyes, and she melted like she always does with him. And who wouldn’t? He was tall, handsome with sandy blonde hair, in great shape and, more importantly, a Southern gentleman. If Clothilde had her way, he and I would be married by now.

  “Well, I suppose,” she said after more coaxing from him. She even set down the switch, making it safe for Lyla to come out of hiding, but she still gave her a stern look to let her know she meant business. Lyla knew better than to say anything else about chickens that night.

  After supper, Lyla and Clothilde did the dishes while I walked Lucas to his truck and helped him put a sleeping Jonathan in the seat. Lucas buckled him in and gently closed the passenger door. “Thanks for inviting us for supper,” he said.

  “Y’all hadn’t been in awhile. We missed having you.”

  He nodded. “I missed being here a lot. So did Jon. I …”

  I looked down at the ground, waiting for him to collect his thoughts. He shuffled his feet and for a second, it looked like he was a high school kid again instead of the thirty-year-old man before me. I looked up at him and him looking at me.

  He kissed me right on the corner of my mouth then, something I wasn’t expecting. It was short, but I felt like he wanted it to last longer. I didn’t know what to say. I was in utter confusion and it appeared he was too, because he suddenly couldn’t look at me anymore. I could see his breath puffing up harder around him in the still January night.

  “I’ll see ya later, Leigh,” he said, and walked around to the driver’s side, got in and left. I stood there, staring after him as his tail lights faded in the dark and he drove onto the highway, out of sight.

  I stayed for awhile longer, now looking out onto the large pond in the front yard. The wind picked up a little, rippling the half moon’s silvery reflection in the water. He kissed me. He kissed me and I had no idea what that meant. It wasn’t a full-on mouth kiss. It wasn’t a kiss on the cheek. It was on the corner of my mouth. What the hell does that mean? I found myself wanting it to mean that he wanted to be with me, but I was afraid of that. There was too much I had to deal with, trying to learn the art of the Traiteur. I didn’t even know how long I was going to be in New Orleans. If he was interested in me, would he wait until I came back?

  “Come in here before you catch your death!” ordered Clothilde from the porch. I shivered and ran up the steps where she held the front door open for me. “That’s a good way to catch a cold, that,” she fussed.

  “You can’t catch a cold from being out in the cold,” I said, rolling my eyes.

  “We’ll see,” she said, stubborn as always.

  I decided on a different tactic with her. I turned to her and hugged her. “Good night, Maw Maw. I love you.” It worked. She was taken aback and barely muttered the same words to me. I grinned devilishly before releasing our embrace. I went upstairs to my room and got ready for bed.

  I had just settled under the covers when there was a small knock on my door. I recognized it as Lyla’s because Clothilde wasn’t the knocking kind—she just barged right in. “Come in,” I said.

  The door opened a crack, and Lyla stuck her head in, her long brown hair
down around her small shoulders. I smiled at her and she opened the door wider and entered, wearing a lavender night gown with a white kitty cat on it. She was ten years old, but acted much older at times. I guessed it was because she was forced to grow up after her parents died. I tried to protect her because I wanted her to enjoy being a child for as long as possible. Lately she had been acting like a normal kid and that pleased me, except when her pre-teen sassiness rose up and collided with my inner child.

  She climbed into bed next to me and pulled the top blanket over her legs. “How long are you gonna be gone?”

  “Don’t know. As long as it takes for me to do what I have to do.”

  “How long is that?”

  I half smiled at her. “I don’t know.”

  “Can you come back to visit if it’s going to be a long time?”

  I shrugged. “Maybe. I don’t think they can force me to stay there.”

  “Can I go visit?”

  “You’d have to ask Maw Maw Clo that, because she’d be the one bringing you.”

  “Uncle Lucas could bring me and Jon.”

  “Well, maybe so then.”

  Lyla was quiet for a moment and I began to get drowsy. I loved how she was closer to me than she was when I first moved back, but all I wanted to do at the moment was go to sleep.

  “Why aren’t you and Uncle Lucas dating?”

  I groaned. “Lyla! I don’t know. Some things are complicated. I can’t explain them, but they just are.” She looked a little hurt when I said that, and I felt bad right away. I sighed. “You’ll understand when you get older.”

  “Really? Because it doesn’t sound like you understand.”

  I glared at her, but realized she was right. A thought suddenly occurred to me. “Hey. Wanna do something for me?”

  “What?”

  I reached behind my neck and unhooked the latch to the chain I was wearing. I took it off my neck, latched it back, and offered my mother’s locket to her. “Can you hold onto this for me until I get back?”