by Eva Pohler
“Wait!” Ellen interrupted. “Charles! Didn’t Maria Nunnery say that some people said the devil child was called Charles?”
“Yes!” Tanya cried.
“Keep reading!” Sue urged Tanya.
His family is worse. Our first night at their estate, Louis and his father exchanged violent words, and your step-father left us for a hotel. I finally understood why Louis is the way he is. He wants to be accepted by his father, but that man can never be satisfied. He is a cruel tyrant with impossible standards and expectations. He let me know that I, too, was a disappointment. I suppose he saw me as a vehicle to his son’s ascent up the social ladder and nothing more.
His mother claimed she had no clean beds and had us sleep on the floor. We slept there for two nights before the linens were ready for us. They offer us nothing to eat. I am forced to ask for anything we need, on behalf of the children. The servants ignore us. I will soon be forced to read monsieur the riot act.
Enough of my trouble and woes. My heart aches for your sweet face and for those of Borquita and Laure. Give them my kisses, and take mine into your heart, and know that I will be home as soon as I can.
Your loving mother.
“No more mention of Charles, unfortunately,” Tanya said.
“She said she was blamed for the very thing she tried to prevent,” Ellen said.
“Do you think she’s referring to the treatment of the slaves?” Tanya asked.
“I think so,” Ellen said. “No one blamed her for the fire, did they?”
“Not anything we’ve read so far,” Tanya said.
“Marie Laveau warned her,” Sue said. “Delphine should have listened.”
“I wonder what prompted Marie Laveau to advise her against marrying Louis,” Tanya said. “She must have known something.”
“Maybe Marie Laveau didn’t like him using the Zombie Powder on slaves,” Ellen offered.
Sue sucked through her straw but got nothing but air. “I’m out of Cherry Coke. Why don’t we discuss these revelations over dinner somewhere?”
“I’d rather finish reading these letters,” Tanya said. “I’m really anxious to see if there’s any mention of Charles or the devil child. But if you want to go without me…”
“I want to see what the other letters have to say as well,” Ellen said. “But why don’t we take them with us? This camping chair is cutting off the circulation in my legs.”
“Okay. I guess we can do that.” Tanya folded the letters and returned them to the chest and followed Sue and Ellen to the bay, where the rental was parked. Since it was late and few places nearby were open, they returned to their favorite bakery for sandwiches.
In a corner booth, Tanya and Ellen sat across from Sue. After they gave their order to the waitress, Tanya unfolded one of the letters.
“This one is dated August 15, 1842.”
Dearest Sister,
I just learned that our mother wrote to your husband about her intentions to return to New Orleans. This news will undoubtedly surprise you. She has been thinking about this for a long time, speaking about it in a vague manner, but we have thus far comforted ourselves in the impossibility of her finding a pretext on which to return, considering public opinion in the wake of the catastrophe of 1834.
This has continued for five years, but, more recently, everywhere we go, she makes announcements about our upcoming departure and gives the reason of her bad state of affairs in Louisiana. I bemoan (as we must all bemoan) the fate that awaits us if ever our mother puts feet in that country again. Her talk of it has caused us to shed many tears.
I truly believe that our mother never had a true idea of the evil of which she has been accused since she is thinking of returning to that country again.
When De Lassus receives her letter announcing her intention to return, please don’t let the fear of displeasing her cause you to recoil from what you know you must do. You must urge your husband to convince our mother of the impossibility of returning to New Orleans. And you must also write to her with the same hard sentiment.
I know that the truth is sometimes painful to speak, but when it can prevent great evils, it is a duty to divulge it. If Mother does indeed return to that country, our lives and hers will be miserable ever after.
I will do my part here. The truth, as painful as it is for a son towards a loving mother, must be said. I will tell her that her idea is insane. She will never be accepted. The rumors took root long ago, thanks to that heartless doctor who calls himself our father, and have grown and blossomed into a deadly vine that strangles the reputation of our family, one which shall never be cut away but shall remain ever thick and thorny. We are better off to stay away. In fact, Pauline and I are prepared to insist to her that we will not go with her.
My task will be painful, as will yours, but we must do it, dear sister, so there will be nothing to reproach us with later.
Ever your loving brother,
Paulin Blanque
“That’s interesting,” Sue said before taking a sip of her drink. “So, Louis was the slave abuser, and Delphine was innocent.”
“She allowed it to happen in her house,” Tanya said. “She could have reported him, but she did nothing. She was going to let the slaves die in the fire.”
“Perhaps as a mercy,” Ellen offered. “She called Rachel’s deed ‘brave,’ remember? Maybe it was the only way out.”
“She’s not innocent,” Tanya said again.
“Well, she may not be,” Sue said. “But she doesn’t sound like the monster history has painted her to be, either.”
“Let’s see if we can find any mention of Charles in the rest of the letters,” Tanya said, barely touching her food.
Tanya read the remaining nine letters. One was another written by Jeanne’s brother Paulin, one was written by her older sister Borquita (who was also called Delphine), and three were written by her younger sister Pauline. The rest were from Jeanne’s husband, Auguste De Lassus. None of them made any mention of a devil child or shed any light on the atrocities that took place in the Lalaurie mansion before the fire of 1834.
Exhausted from a long and exciting day, they returned to the Inn at Ursulines for bed, but Ellen was anxious and lay there, tossing and turning, for most of the night. There were so many unanswered questions, and Tanya’s life was no closer to being freed from the desperate ghost of Cornelius Nunnery.
Chapter Fourteen: Special Rites
After breakfast, Ellen, Tanya, and Sue returned to the house on Chartres to meet the architect. When the others were as eager as Ellen to help Michael Rouchell with his measuring tape, Ellen suspected she wasn’t the only one enamored with him. His charismatic personality, sparkling dark eyes, and adorable smile bewitched them.
After they finished upstairs and had returned to the parlor, Michael asked, “How set are you on making this into three condos? What I mean is, would you be open to two bigger condos, instead?”
Sue crossed her arms. “I was just thinking three smaller condos would be more affordable for locals.”
“But there aren’t many places for families in the French Quarter,” Michael pointed out. “They could be your target market.”
“I’m open to that,” Tanya said. “How would you do it?”
“We would have one face the street and another face the courtyard. We would add another set of stairs there by the office, so the back condo has access to the second floor. Both condos would have a living, kitchen, and dining room downstairs, with two bedrooms and two baths per unit. We might get a third bedroom for each unit, since the rooms are pretty big.”
“I think that sounds awesome,” Ellen said with too much enthusiasm.
Michael smiled.
“I’m good with that,” Sue agreed.
“Great! Do you mind if I stay here for a bit and work on my preliminary drawings?” Michael asked.
“Stay as long as you like,” Sue said, beaming.
Ellen tried not to roll her eyes. “We’re on o
ur way out for an hour or so, but we’re expecting furniture for the guesthouse this afternoon and will be back after lunch. Will you still be here then?”
“It’s possible,” he said. “I’d like to make notes about the existing architecture as I go.”
“Take your time,” Sue said with another bright smile. “There’s a desk in the library, if you need it.”
As they returned to the rental parked in the bay, Tanya said, “What is the matter with you two?”
“Sue’s the one who was beaming at him like a high school crush.”
“Not just Sue.”
Sue mimicked Ellen, “I think that sounds awesome!” Then, she added, “You may as well have said, ‘I think you’re awesome, Michael Rouchell. How about a kiss to seal the deal?’”
“Oh, hush,” Ellen said.
“Excuse me, ladies?”
They turned toward the house and were horrified to see Michael Rouchell standing there with a huge grin.
“Yes?” Tanya replied when Ellen and Sue couldn’t.
“If I leave before you get back, how do I lock up?”
“Um,” Ellen didn’t think she could finish her sentence as the blood rushed to her cheeks and her mortified heart pounded in her ears.
“I’ll show you.” Tanya rushed off to help Michael.
As Ellen climbed behind the wheel of the rental, she said, “I don’t think I can ever make eye contact with him again.”
“I’m sure he was flattered. Don’t make it worse by making it awkward.”
Ellen was pretty sure it was too late for that.
When they arrived at the Voodoo Spiritual Temple, Priestess Isabel was with another woman, black and in her late twenties, with tears streaming down her face. The quiet woman, Julie, wasn’t there. Isabel and the sobbing young woman stood at the counter, and there was no one else in the room.
“I don’t know,” the sobbing young woman said. “The doctor didn’t say. Mama Isabel, he’s just a baby. Help me, please!”
“What hospital he at?” Isabel asked.
“Children’s. Will you come with me? Say a prayer over him? I don’t have any money, but I’m desperate. I’ll do anything for you. Please?”
“You got a car?” Isabel asked.
“Yes, parked right outside. Does that mean you’ll come?”
Isabel turned to Ellen. “What can I do for you, ladies?”
“We can come back another time,” Ellen said.
“I’ll be back in an hour,” Isabel said. “Can you mind my store ‘till then?”
“Huh?” Ellen wasn’t sure if she’d heard the woman correctly.
“You trust us with it?” Sue asked.
“Would I ask if I didn’t?”
“Sure,” Tanya said. “What do we need to know?”
Isabel took Tanya behind the counter. “Enter the amount of each item like this. When you’re done, push this button to add the sales tax. Then, if they pay cash, you push this and enter the amount of cash they give you. It will show how much change to give back, if any. If they pay with a card, you swipe it here. The computer will ask if you want a receipt printed, so just push yes, got it?”
Tanya nodded. “I think so.”
“I keep the shopping bags down here, if they need one.”
“Okay.”
“If you get a tour group, keep your eyes open. Don’t let anyone take anything without paying for it.”
“We won’t,” Ellen said.
“I’ll be right back.”
“Thank you,” the young woman said to them as she followed Isabel through the front door.
When they were alone in the shop, Sue said, “Can you believe that? I can’t believe she left us in charge.”
Ellen fingered the handmade Voodoo dolls. “Maybe this means she fired Julie.”
“She could just be sick today,” Tanya said. “Let’s not assume.”
“And even if she fired the girl,” Ellen said, “that doesn’t mean Isabel wasn’t in on it.”
Sue walked toward the back room, which led to the courtyard. “I want to know if the snake is still there.”
Ellen glanced around the back room, feeling nosey. Papers and boxes littered a desk and shelves that lined two walls.
Sue disappeared and returned a moment later. “The aquarium’s empty. Henry must be dead.”
“What’s this?” Tanya held up a booklet that had been sitting behind the counter. “Voodoo Rituals. Oh, wow. I don’t think Isabel has been completely honest with us.”
“What makes you say that?” Ellen asked, peering over Tanya’s shoulder to get a look at the booklet.
“Listen to this,” Tanya said. “‘Anvwa Mo, or Sending the Dead, is a ritual used to either send mo after an enemy, or to rid a client of mo attachment or possession, a mo being a spirit of the deceased.’”
“There’s a ritual for getting rid of a spirit attachment?” Ellen couldn’t believe it. She’d taken Isabel at her word.
“Why did she lie to us?” Sue wondered out loud.
“Oh my God,” Tanya muttered. “It says here that victims of the mo become violently ill, may spit up blood, become thin and pale, hear voices, grow crazy, and sometimes die.” Tanya looked up at them with tears welling in her eyes. “Guys, I don’t want to die.”
“You aren’t going to die,” Ellen said. “We won’t let that happen.”
“I wonder what Isabel will have to say for herself when she gets back,” Sue said, with one hand on her hip, warrior ready.
Just then, a woman not much younger than they, with long red hair, pale skin, green eyes, and a look of desperation, entered the shop. “Where’s Mama Isabel?”
“Children’s Hospital,” Tanya said. “Can we help you with something?”
“My husband just died,” the woman said.
“What? Where?” Sue asked.
“Oh my gosh,” Tanya muttered.
“My house, two blocks away. I ran here as fast as I could. I need her to perform the rite of reclamation, to protect his soul from getting lost. This was very important to my husband.”
“She won’t be here for at least another half hour,” Ellen said.
The woman broke down into tears.
“I’m so sorry for your loss,” Ellen said. “Do you want us to call someone for you?”
The woman shook her head. “I’ll wait here. I don’t know who else to go to. His mother is there with him. She will be very upset if I return without Mama Isabel.”
“Did your husband die suddenly?” Sue asked. “Or has he been sick?”
“Cancer took him,” the woman said through her sobs. “I knew we were close, but…”
Ellen patted the woman on the back, not sure what to say. “I’m so sorry.”
They were interrupted by the arrival of a large group of people—at least a dozen—and a short brunette in her twenties encouraged the last few people to squeeze inside.
“Where’s Priestess Isabel?” the short brunette asked Tanya.
“Children’s Hospital,” Ellen answered. “Can we help you?”
“Oh, no,” the brunette said. “I promised these people they’d have the opportunity to meet the most famous Voodoo queen in New Orleans. When do you expect her back?”
“In about thirty or forty minutes,” Sue said. “Can you come back then?”
“This is our last stop on the tour,” the brunette said. “At least I can take them to the courtyard and show them her famous python, Henry, who acts as her conduit between the living and the dead, much like Le Grand Zombie, the snake belonging to Marie Laveau, once did in the mid eighteen-hundreds.”
Ellen glanced at Sue and Tanya, wondering which of them would break the news.
Sue spoke up. “Henry isn’t with us anymore. He died about a month ago.”
Disappointed faces in the crowd stared back at her.
“Seriously?” the brunette said with increased frustration. “That’s just great.”
Ellen felt sorry for the girl and
for all the disappointed tourists, who’d been hoping for an experience.
“Did you hear how he died?” Ellen asked the tour guide, who shook her head. “We were with Priestess Isabel when it happened.”
Everyone turned their eyes on Ellen, eager for a story.
“My friends and I came to her for help a month ago because our friend Tanya here has a mo attached to her,” Ellen explained. “A mo is a spirit of the deceased.”
Tanya turned bright pink and muttered, “Ellen!”
Several people backed away from Tanya.
“It’s okay. It won’t hurt anything to tell them about it,” Ellen said to Tanya. Then she turned to the crowd. “Our friend became terribly ill and had to be hospitalized. She has a foul odor that follows her wherever she goes. She has nightmares and says things, and later forgets them. Once, we found her sleeping upside down. We eventually discovered that a sixteen-year-old boy who died in Hurricane Katrina has attached himself to her.”
“Why?” someone asked.
“Marie Laveau, an ancestor of his, won’t let him rest until we help her,” Ellen continued. “The python died when Marie Laveau possessed Priestess Isabel, so she could tell us what we have to do to free our friend from the mo.”
“We think Marie Laveau sacrificed the snake to create enough energy for the dead Voodoo queen to possess the priestess,” Sue explained.
Many of the people in the group gasped, wide-eyed, and others shook their heads in disbelief, chuckling.
Someone in the crowd asked, “What did she say you have to do?”
“Find the bones of the Devil Baby of Bourbon Street,” Ellen said. “The spirit attached to Tanya won’t be allowed to rest until the spirit of the devil child is finally at peace.”
Some of the tourists looked fascinated, but at least half of them smiled or laughed, their faces full of skepticism. Ellen remembered the feeling.
“And have you found the bones?” someone asked.
“Not yet,” Sue said. “But we’re working on it.”
