Clarice’s eyes grew wide and she screamed her heartache as she fell apart, having no doubt at all that her father had harmed Samuel.
To his credit, Mr. Bienville had stepped quickly to stand before Clarice when her father had moved to strike her again. “There is no reason for violence. The girl mourns. Give her time to come to terms with her new future. All will be well.”
“Lock her away behind a heavy door to wait out her hysteria. She will recover from her bout of hysteria soon enough. If not, perhaps you should beat it out of her,” her father had instructed Mr. Bienville before storming from Mr. Bienville’s home and slamming the door behind himself.
Mr. Bienville called his manservant to assist him in lifting her from her collapsed position on the floor of his home. Together they moved her to the rooms his late wife formerly occupied. The rooms were quite comfortable and decorated in silks, velvets, and satins. “You will be happy here, my dear,” he said as he followed his manservant out of the room. He wanted to win her approval, not harm her in any way. He was not a fan of violence of any type and frowned down on her father’s treatment of her. Though he did indeed take the man’s advice and lock the door to keep her from running away.
Which is how she found herself still locked in that same room, alternately sobbing, pounding on the door, and begging for release.
Finally, from the other side of the door she heard his voice again.
“You will see that this life is not so bad. I will treat you well. Have I not always been gentle with you when you visited my bank with your father?”
Clarice pressed her hands against the door, as she begged him to understand. “I’ll never be your wife. I’ll never accept any life other than that stolen from me. Please release me!”
Mr. Bienville wasn’t cruel. He’d simply admired the young woman the sweet, young girl had grown into. So when her father had offered her hand in marriage, since he was painfully lonely himself, he’d readily accepted.
“Let me go,” she begged again.
“The only way out of our arrangement is to go to a convent,” he answered sadly, hoping the idea of a chaste, religious life would sway her toward him.
“Accepted. I’d rather live out my life as a nun, than marry any other than the husband I’ve lost. Take me to a nunnery,” Clarice answered, her heart broken, and her voice soft and resigned.
~~~~~
Maman ‘Vangeline spied the unholy girl the moment she set foot on the flagstones running the length of the row of shotgun houses her own home sat on in the red-light district. Maman shook her head — another poor child, lured to her demise by the power that could be got from the religion that had become synonymous with New Orleans.
The demon cohabitating with the girl herself inside the girl’s body felt the power of Maman ‘Vangeline’s eyes as she watched the girl. The demon and the girl, eyes swirling with both their presences, met Maman’s eyes to take measure of the woman, just as she measured them.
‘What a shame’ Maman thought, this girl was too far gone for redemption. She’d been lured by the power the demon had promised, taken it into herself and now they walked as one. There would be no savior for this one. It was simply not possible.
Maman watched as the girl approached, never breaking eye contact with her. Eventually she came to a stop just outside Maman’s front gate. She did not reach out to touch the gate or the hip high fence marking the perimeter of Maman’s small yard. She simply stood there, watching Maman, not moving, not speaking.
Maman regarded the girl dispassionately, forcing the girl and her demon to have to address her first.
Finally the demon could take it no more. “Do you not want to know why I seek you out?”
Maman raised a single eyebrow. “Not particularly.”
“I have come to collect my reward,” the demon said confidently.
“Reward? I owe you no reward.”
“You do! I have held my end of the bargain. Bestowed a gift, even.”
Against her better judgment, Maman decided she wanted to know what bargain the girl spoke of. “It was no bargain of mine. And any gift from you is clearly tainted.”
“I am as powerful as you! I can bestow gifts!”
A slow, sarcastic smile curled Maman’s lips. “If you think so,” she replied, not the least bit concerned.
“I am! And I can!” The girl sneered at Maman. “You studied for years, wasted your life away in search of magics and strengths you now hold. I, on the other hand, made smart choices, joined forces, and now I stand before you, all that you are and more after only a few months.”
Maman nodded. “And therein lies the problem, child. I control my powers, not the other way around.”
The girl’s confidence wavered. “Give me the reward I am due!”
“No.”
The demon became enraged, blustering about and stomping a few feet away from the gate to the middle of the street and back before thrusting her hand out for Maman to see. “Here is my proof. You owe me!”
Maman stared at the cameo ring in the lost girl’s hand, her heart dying a little. She knew it at once as the ring her son had bought for his wife, yet she dare not tip her hand. “Where did you find such a pretty bauble?” Maman asked, forcing her voice to remain steady and only slightly interested.
The demon, thinking herself back in control, began to strut pompously the length of the gate and back again. “It was traded. In exchange for a gift of protection.”
“Protection of whom?” Maman asked.
“A true love,” the demon possessed girl answered.
“And who traded it to you for protection of their true love?” Maman pressed.
The girl grinned evilly. “Me thinks you should pay me my due, yah, before we tell you. That was the deal.”
‘Vangeline bowed her head slightly. “Then by all means, enter. I will give you all you are due.” Maman ‘Vangeline watched as the possessed girl reached for the latch on her front gate, pausing before she touched it and looking up at Maman for repeated permission to enter. “I have relaxed all the protections on my property and given you permission to enter. You will not be harmed by my protection charms and spells.”
The girl laid her hand on the gate, and at no immediate pain or impairment, smiled, thinking herself the winner in this confrontation, and let herself into the small yard in front of the home on Basin Street.
‘Vangeline turned and walked to her front door, her heart pounding, praying to all the deities she believed in for the safety of her son. She opened her door and stepped through, leaving it open for the girl to follow.
And follow she did.
The moment the girl passed through Maman ‘Vangeline’s threshold, she lifted the girl with a simple flick of her wrist, thrust her against the wall and with a few whispered words replaced the wards on her home, locking the spells and charms back tightly in place.
The girl’s demon started squalling, the girl herself floundering, her arms and legs flying about like a rag doll as she fought the immense strength slamming her continually against the wall. “Release me! Release me now or I’ll bring a wrath like none you've ever known to your door! Release me!” the demon screeched as the bones and skin of the girl’s face contorted into the demon’s countenance, then back to the girl again.
‘Vangeline walked slowly toward the girl, pinned three feet off the floor against her own living room wall. A circle of safety painted on the wall behind the girl, talismans of the religion Maman practiced accenting that circle. “Perhaps you don’t know about me,” ‘Vangeline said as she approached the girl still pinned magically to the wall.
The demon hissed while at the same time the girl snarled at ‘Vangeline.
“I am Maman ‘Vangeline. I am high-priestess of New Orleans. You are in my home now. In my territory, among my people and my things. And that ring you hold belongs to my son. If you have harmed my son, you have breathed your last.”
The girl stopped struggling at once. She realize
d the error of her plan. Then the demon reminded her, ‘But we gave him a way out. And we gifted him with the ability to watch over his love. We have served her son.’ The girl grinned. “We have not harmed him. We answered his plea, and gifted him with eternal life to watch over his love. We have gifted him his desire, not harmed him!”
Maman knew a demon gifted nothing without a twisted curse attached. “Where is my son?” she demanded calmly.
“I will never tell you! But if you free me, I’ll show you,” the girl promised.
“I’m afraid you will not be freed. Not unless you give me a reason to want to free you. Tell me how you come to have my son’s ring, and explain to me how you gifted him with anything.”
The girl, controlled by the demon, their thoughts intertwining, began babbling about everlasting life, the ability to watch over his love while declaring loudly that she did not seek him out. “He called to us, we did not lure him to us. He called to us! And he was happy to make the trade! Now he will forever watch from his resting place.”
‘Vangeline’s breath caught, realizing her son was likely gone. And more likely than not, his soul had been locked to the small patch of ground where he’d breathed his last. “You cursed him. You’ve locked his soul to the very ground he died on.”
“No! We gave him the ability to watch over his love. That is what he wished for. That and for you to reward us with our due for delivering his message to you. And this! His ring, he said to show it to you and you would reward us with all we deserved.”
“And so I shall. But first, I wish to know,” she saw the flicker of suspicion in the demon’s eyes, so quickly added, “because I am so impressed with your strength, how did you plan to release him from his prison?”
The demon, preening at her praise, laughed as he enjoyed her perceived recognition of his prowess. “Oh, only a fool could be freed from the ground he keeps.”
“Surely there is a secret to it?” ‘Vangeline asked, knowing there was always a way to counter a spell.
“Yes, exactly what I said, ‘A fool can be freed from the ground he keeps.’ Otherwise, should he cross the threshold, his soul will be given up for the next in line to live its life.”
“What threshold, where is he?” Maman demanded, losing patience with the games necessary to find her son.
“In a fortress of marble and iron. He rests in a rich man’s eternal home.”
‘Vangeline closed her eyes in a momentary flash of grief. She knew well where her son was. The only rich man who had issue with him was the father of his wife, Clarice. And now she had no doubt, her son was no longer among the living. Fate had conspired to rob him of his life for loving a girl society felt he should never have had access to. He was guilty of nothing but love. And for that not only had she lost him, but he lost his own life and any chance at a future.
‘Vangeline opened her eyes. Frustration and heartbreak had taken root, along with a searing, never-ending pain at the knowledge that her son, her precious son, had lost his life simply because he dared to love. ‘Vangeline reached out and snatched the ring from the girl’s hand as the demon admired it carelessly, still dangling from the spot on the wall where she’d been pinned by ‘Vangeline’s magic.
“Give it back! I earned it!”
‘Vangeline shook her head determinedly. “No. You didn’t, but you earned this.”
Slowly the demon began to feel warmth about her feet. That warmth grew until it was an irritating stinging, then quickly an unbearable inferno. The girl screamed, flailing her legs about, trying desperately to extinguish the invisible flames licking at her legs.
‘Vangeline whispered a few words aloud in the mixture of Haitian and French languages she practiced her religion in, to bring down a curtain of silence around her home. Then she stepped over to the curio in the corner, removed the lidded vase from the shelf and turned it over, emptying a mixture of dried herbs and spices from it. She walked back over to the girl now screaming, her eyes wide as unseen fire moved steadily up her body, and the demon attempted to claw his way free of her burning body.
‘Vangeline held the vase, one singular crystal-rock of hollowed salt with its own lid chiseled from the same crystal of rock salt, out toward the girl. The demon inside her eyed the salt vase and began shrieking anew. ‘Vangeline began her chant. Darkness permeated the inside of the house, the winds outside whipped and the imaginary flames lapped incessantly at the girl’s legs and body. Finally, the girl’s body began to deform — her stomach and chest elongating and stretching, her throat rhythmically rolling like the waves on an ocean, before the dingy, gray outline of the demon herself, short, squat, and greasy, ultimately burst forth from the girl’s body and hung limply in the air, looking desperately for another host.
‘Vangeline raised her voice, using the vice of her powers, those used for good and the banishment of evil to shackle the demon with invisible, twining ropes, forcing it to her will. The demon knew she was almost done for and tried to seep through the doors and walls of ‘Vangeline’s home in an effort to escape. But ‘Vangeline kept chanting, enforcing the wards on her home.
Before long the demon tired, hanging in the air and wailing. ‘Vangeline held out the vase again, swirling it as one would do to capture wisps of smoke inside. She smiled sadly as the last of the demon’s translucent, gray form was absorbed into the salt vase and promptly sealed with the lid for all eternity.
‘Vangeline turned back to the girl’s charred body, still held in place against her wall. She allowed the girl’s dead body to fall to the floor. She should have felt something, anything at the sight of the girl’s body crumpled in a heap on her floor. But she didn’t. All she felt was the crushing sadness and desperation of knowing that she’d never again hold her sweet son.
‘Vangeline looked around her home, remnants of the evil the girl and her demon had brought into her house still littered her home. All she could think of was getting to Samuel as quickly as possible. She needed to see for herself that he’d truly been cursed to the place she thought he had. Her feet started toward her front door, but she stopped again and glanced around her small living room. Holding back a sob of heartbreak, she turned back to her living room and set about removing the girl from her floor, the sprinklings of evil from the corners and securing all as it should be, lest she come home to more than she planned. Then she’d go in search of Samuel’s resting place.
Chapter 3
“Samuel, are you here?”
There was no response, so she tried again.
“Samuel? It’s Maman, are you here?”
Samuel opened his eyes, vaguely becoming aware of a sound in the void of silence he’d been locked in.
“Samuel?!”
There it was again. A voice. A soft voice, calling his name. He sat up and looked around himself. He’d no idea of the time that had passed, there was no marking of time in the realm he now inhabited.
“Samuel, can you hear me?”
“Maman?” he called.
“Yes! Samuel, it’s Maman. Can you come to me?”
“I don’t know. How?”
“Just concentrate on the sound of my voice, follow it. Imagine yourself lifting off the ground and following it.”
‘Vangeline kept talking, and Samuel did what she said, following her voice, and to his surprise, exactly as she’d said, he lifted up off the floor of the crypt, moved right through the wall, and was soon standing — more or less, in front of her.
“Maman!” he cried, heartbreak clear in his eyes, his voice and the translucent mists that loosely represented his face.
“Samuel,” ‘Vangeline sobbed. “My sweet boy. What has happened to you?”
“It was Clarice’s father. I waited for her as we planned. Only he came in her stead. He had me beaten and dumped here,” he answered, his face a mask of anguish. “I knew you’d come, Maman. I prayed you’d find me!”
“Of course I came. I would never stop until I found you.”
“There’s more, M
aman. Before I…” he started. Then he gulped and tried again. “A woman, like you only younger, offered to watch over Clarice, but wanted payment. I gave her Clarice’s ring and asked her to go to you. Is that how you found me?” he asked. “I know I shouldn’t have, but it was the only chance I had to let you know what had happened and to protect Clarice,” he explained, his sad eyes dropping down to the ground.
“It matters not, Samuel. She came to me, and I found you.”
“Is she keeping watch over Clarice?” he asked, hopeful.
‘Vangeline shook her head, “No, my sweet boy. She’s not. The girl was possessed, beyond saving. I released her from her possession once I learned all I needed to find you.”
“But Clarice! Maman! I must save Clarice! What can I do?”
With tears in her eyes ‘Vangeline explained to her beloved son what he might not have understood before now. “Nothing, my son. You can’t leave here. Until I find a way to break the bargain the demon tricked you into, you can’t leave, or you’ll lose your soul.”
Samuel watched her, wide-eyed. “But, I don’t understand. I tricked the demon. I sent the girl to you so you could find me and free me.”
Maman shook her head sadly. “You cannot leave this crypt. This wrought iron fencing is your boundary. You cannot leave here. If you do, you will be lost forever, your soul forfeited to another.”
“Maman!” he whispered.
‘Vangeline stood strong, she shook her head and raised her delicate chin. “I will not rest until you are freed. Fear not, Samuel. I am not without my own prowess, and my strengths are so much more powerful than that the girl and her demon carried. They bound you here by bargain with you. I simply need to study the bargain. Find the loophole they left as a way to free you. I will find a way. And have no doubt, I will make them pay. All who had a hand in stealing your life from you will pay.”
“I have faith, Maman. I know you’ll find a way to break the bargain I made,” Samuel said quietly. “But I worry for Clarice. What has become of her? Has he harmed her, too?” Samuel asked worriedly.
Only Fools Walk Free Page 2
