Rebelled, an Arelia LaRue Novel #7

by Kira Saito

  “Hello! Hello!” Papa Ghede’s skeletal hand grabbed mine before I could reach Erzulie. A puff of smoke crawled its way up my nose. My eyes watered as the sting of peppers hit them.

  “Hello, you haven’t changed one bit Father Death,” I said as I gave him the once over. He manifested as an extremely dark, thin, skeletal man, dressed in black skinny jeans, a black tuxedo jacket, and a purple top hat, cane in hand and a big old cigar in mouth. His signature black sunglasses with one lens missing were firmly intact as was his sense of pointed humor.

  He twirled me around and around at a dizzying speed. My hair formed a mad vortex above me. I felt like a swirling dervish. “So you have learned to laugh at death, have you?” he asked. “You’ve begun to see the beauty in life despite the ugliness that surrounds you every day! Perhaps, you’ve seen the joy in living and savoring every moment?”

  I thought back to the uptight me who had danced with him last year. She had been focused on her mission and trying to do things her way that she had the tendency to overlook the importance of every breath. Who knew what tomorrow would bring, so what was the point of excessively worrying about it? None of us were promised our next breath let alone a comfy 401K, big ass house and a perfect spouse who catered to our every whim. “I guess I have,” I said accepting his compliment. “Where are the rest of the spirits?” I asked disappointed that I couldn’t see a few more friendly faces. I was particularly interested in seeing Little Linto and finding out more about how Marie was doing.

  Papa Ghede laughed that clownish laugh of his and poured some rum down my throat. “Drink, drink, you’ll need your courage to do what is expected of you next,” he said ignoring my question. I still hadn’t figured out if spirits had selective hearing, or if they simply didn’t waste their time on trivial chit-chat.

  I let the hot rum burn my insides, desperate to gather the courage I would need to get rid of Viola.

  “The rest of the gang had other places to be. They knew if they stuck around, you would hound them with never-ending questions, isn’t that true?” He flashed me a large grin.

  "Maybe." It was true, but I wasn't going to admit it.

  “Lovely Erzulie and I will watch over you as you perform the spell to destroy your little zombie daughter.”

  I didn't want to say it. I didn't want to show any sign of weakness, but my wretched heart once again betrayed me. "Papa Ghede, isn’t there anything you can do for Viola? You brought me back from death. Surely, there must be a way? I read that you have extra pity on those who die before their time, especially young children.”

  He laughed at my words and stuffed a cayenne pepper down my throat. My tongue was on fire, and it took a few seconds to realize that he wanted me to shut-up, so I did and let him talk some common sense into me.

  “Only you can release her soul from the clutches of Emilie and give her peace. This cannot work any other way. I cannot reanimate her as that would mean another zombie. Her soul and her body are out of balance with one another and can never be synchronized again.”

  “Where will she go?” I asked. My voice was barely above a whisper as I thought of her burning in hellfire for eternity.

  "Only the great and terrible Judge of us all can answer that question." I found a strange solace in his words. It was the lesson I had yet to conquer fully, putting my faith in someone else besides myself.

  “I’m ready,” I said suddenly wanting to get over with it already.

  The Banda beat ended abruptly, and we stopped dancing. The smoke cleared, and I knew that stuff just got serious. The moon transformed from a vivid blood red to a sunny yellow and cast an eerie glow on the statues. I felt as if I had a large audience carefully watching my every move. It was a test. I knew that He was also watching, waiting to see if I had balls. Erzulie and Papa Ghede took me by my arms and led me towards a gigantic tree with sharp branches, which were covered in tangled mulberry vines and tiny purple elephant foot flowers.

  “I have laid out the materials for you over there.” She pointed to a clearing under the tree. “You do know the spell that needs to be used, don’t you?”

  I nodded. "Ti Jean thought I wouldn't figure it out, but I have. It has to be the Banishment and Equalizer Spell, doesn't it?" I asked referring to the spell that would ask Bon Dieu to be the mediator between you and your enemy by protecting you and punishing the person who inflicted pain on you. Unlike most other spells, this one didn’t require the help of the loa which meant that it was safer and less tricky than other kinds of magic.

  “Oui," she said. Her voice was low and respectful, but she refused to shed a single tear. She knew better. I was about to do what she never had the courage to do to her demon child.

  “Go on! Go on.” Papa Ghede pushed me towards the oak. “This is no time for second guessing.”

  “Thank you, Papa Ghede.” I gave him a small wink knowing that he had tipped me off the correct spell when he told me that only the great and terrible Judge could decide each of our fates.

  I stepped closer and glanced at the materials that I would need. Everything was laid out neatly on a clean white cloth. The list included: parchment paper, Black Arts Oil, pins, black cloth, Erzulie’s dagger and a voodoo doll which in this case was my zombie baby daughter. "Hello Viola," I said calmly as if nothing had happened between us.

  She was still dressed in the gold Jacques Doucet gown with its extravagant layers of silk, net, and lace. Her hair was neatly tied back and on her head rested a gold bonnet decorated with pearls and tiny diamonds. Pale moonlight hit her frosty blue eyes. They were expressionless and dull as if she were simply too tired to give me any reaction. Her tiny heart-shaped mouth held a smug look about it as if sensing the pain I was in and relishing every second of this drama. "Are you going to be a child killer?" she asked totally avoiding any small talk. "What you're about to do is no better than what Emilie is doing. Using me as a pawn to meet your end goal." It was evident that Emilie had read Rules for Radicals and was a master at manipulation. She would be as it was rumored that the book was written by the devil himself who was the first radical rebel in recorded history. This time, I wasn’t going to fall for it.

  I kneeled down in front of the tiny child. She smelled like magnolias and roses. I remembered the Amazing Grace bubble bath I had given her. Understanding that this was no longer in my hands, and she was never really mine, I fought the urge to hold her in my arms and weep. I pushed my emotions aside and told my heart to shut-up and let me get on with business. "It's not going to work this time. I'm sorry that I brought you into this world and for how life was cruel to us both. If I had known I was pregnant, I would have never come to Darkwood. I would have rejected Lucus and stayed with Edmond just to make sure you got the life you deserved. I swear it’s true.”

  “You’re nothing but a liar!” she accused.

  "No, I'm not. I'm a terrible liar, and maybe that is what'll make me a great queen. It's time that we both put the past behind us and move on."

  “You’ll never win, you know. He is more powerful than you and your silly ideas. I feel sorry for you. I don’t understand how I ended up with a mother weak and as pathetic as you.” Her words were full of venom with the sole intent of hurting me. I brushed them off, determined not to stoop to that dangerous level. “You don’t have any strength. At least Emilie’s got an army.”

  “Maybe in the next life you’ll get a better mom,” I said sweetly as I focused on the spell. She eyed me angrily as I wrote her name on the piece of parchment paper and anointed it with Black Arts Oil. The scent of sulfur, graveyard dirt and black pepper surrounded us. My hands trembled slightly as I picked up Erzulie’s silver dagger. I took one of Viola’s tiny wrists and half-closed my eyes.

  “You won’t do it.” Her laugh was high and sweet as if she had gotten a get out of jail-free card. “You don’t have the courage. The police will come looking. Emilie will make sure of that. She’ll use the media to her advantage.”

  Ignoring her taunts, I ruthl
essly slit her wrist. Bright blood gushed out in what was a seemingly endless stream. It was warm as it trickled down my hands and stained my white dress. I felt like one of those witches who kidnapped children and sacrificed them in the forest on nights when a full moon was out. It was the worst feeling ever.

  “Stop! You’re hurting me! You’re hurting me!”

  I opened my eyes, and they met hers. Tears flowed down her plump cheeks. I paid her no attention as I placed the parchment paper over her gash and stuck a pin into the paper securing it against her wound.

  She howled in pain, and my heart broke. My hands continued to tremble as if resisting the urge to go any further. I proceeded to stick nine pins into the wound. I took a quick glance at Erzulie and Papa Ghede. They both wore hard expressions urging me to finish the deed and to finish it quickly.

  I started to recite psalm 55 which would seal the spell.

  Give ear to my prayer, O God; and hide not thyself from my supplication.

  Attend unto me, and hear me: I mourn in my complaint, and make a noise;

  Because of the voice of the enemy, because of the oppression of the wicked: for they cast iniquity upon me, and in wrath they hate me.

  My heart is sore pained within me: and the terrors of death are fallen upon me.

  Fearfulness and trembling have come upon me, and horror hath overwhelmed me.

  * * *

  I recited the psalm nine times. I watched as Viola's eyes slowly closed and slipped into the land where I had never truly gone before. I kissed her forehead and wiped away the tears that she had shed. "I'm so sorry," I whispered. "I know that I'll see you again someday over the Jordan, and then we can be a real family. It is finished," I said, as I wrapped her little body in the thick black cloth and lay it on the ground. For a few moments, I was frozen, numb, and unable to fully register what I had done. Of course, the tears fell even though they shouldn’t have. On television, they always showed the heroes running around with machine guns hunting down flesh-eating zombies as if they were playing some video game. The reality was vastly different when you knew that the zombie had once been living, breathing soul. It occurred to me that those zombie movies were prepping us to become numb to the real attacks that would occur on humans.

  The level of terrorism I saw on the other side had been horrific, yet I had been glued to the news reports as if they were no more than a gigantic movie being replayed. I remembered how a part of my humanity had been ripped from me after each report, and how tears had been scarcer as time went on. I hadn't figured it all out yet, but what I did observe is that when those attacks occurred, their power further energized the spiritual realm, including the spirits of those involved in or watching the bloodshed.

  If my observation was, in fact, true, I realized that I couldn’t be the ruthless “off with their heads” queen that everyone expected me to be. I would listen to sound council before I made rash decisions, but I wouldn’t toss aside my heart in its entirety. I rose from the earth and straightened out my blood-stained dress.

  I turned to Erzulie and Papa Ghede who stood by my side respectfully. Even Father Death was paying his respects. “I have to place the body in a dark space where no one is going to disturb it. I know I’m supposed to bury it but if I do Emilie will simply dig up the grave and who knows…” I thought of the ways she could reverse the spell and bend it to her favor.

  Papa Ghede clapped his bony hands together, and my ex-tomb rumbled open along with my gigantic coffin. “I will make sure she won’t be able to open it.”

  “How is that possible?” I asked.

  He grinned. “Even the loa get to pick a side, and I am on yours. You were born for such a time as this. Believe it."

  Erzulie nodded her head in agreement. “Oui.”

  "Thank you," I muttered shyly, as we walked towards the open grave. "Good-bye, Viola," I whispered. I placed her little body in the coffin, and Papa Ghede sealed the tomb shut. There was a moment of silence before it was broken.

  “Do you know why the things I did in Haiti are still so vile?” he asked.

  My heart sank. “Oh no, not you too. You did horrible, vile things in Haiti as well?”

  He shrugged and took a generous gulp from his rum bottle. “Everyone has a past. The things I did were so vile because I took delight in them. I willfully did them, and oh how I adored doing them on a mass scale. I realize that I was a fool and will never let them repeat here in New Orleans or this nation of the new world. You see, it too was chosen for such a time as this.”

  “America was chosen?”

  “Why do you think there are so many loa here?”

  "I figured that…" I was too afraid to admit that I had no idea. "You're not going to tell me, are you?" I answered my own question. I turned to face Erzulie. “Everything in due season, right?”

  She raised her champagne glass. “Oui. I must warn you that now you have destroyed Viola and fought your way back to this side, the devil will come at you with even more wrath, tricks and ways that will question your sanity. You see, once you shine light into his darkness, he rebels and becomes even darker. Remember that Emilie is a puppet just like Viola was her puppet. The sly old snake has many puppets in place and he uses them against one another."

  “The left-hand doesn’t know what the right hand is doing,” I said recalling her previous warnings.

  “Oui.”

  “Thank you for those very encouraging words,” I teased taking a cue from Papa Ghede. “So what should I do next?”

  “I think you should go and thank the one who brought you back here.”

  Excitement filled me at the thought of seeing Lucus along with dread. It was time to say the things that were known, but unspoken and that was going to take a hell of a lot of courage. I said my good-byes and sprinted into the darkness exhilarated with what life would throw at me next.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Darkwood Plantation – Present Day

  The Things I Could Never Say

  I rehearsed the words as I ran towards the main house. I fought my way through clumps of wisteria, tangled vines, gnarled tree roots, and mosquitoes that insisted on dining on my sweaty flesh. Each and every utterance seemed ridiculous. The distant swamp snakes, birds, and alligators seemed to be mocking my attempts at spitting the truth out. They hooted and hissed as if heckling me, all of the cheesy romantic chick flicks where the well-intentioned heroine with a plucky attitude, screws things up passed through my head. I took comfort in the fact that most of them had a happily ever after.

  “Lucus, I was Cecile. Lucus, I never left. Lucus, I just murdered my zombie baby daughter who was technically your niece. Lucus, your mom, was the one who had me whipped to death because she thought I killed you. Lucus, it’s my fault that you’ve been trapped in this place for centuries. Lucus, I trapped Louis in his body because I wanted to save you. I had no idea you had a brother. Lucus, Marie still loves your dad and is waiting for him. I suspect that his spirit is still lingering around this old place. Lucus, did you know that Sabrina is Emilie? Remember how you took pity on her and invited her to Darkwood? In retrospect, that wasn’t the best idea. Lucus, I've seen a small glimpse of the future, and I've been warned that Louis is about to do some pretty messed up things, but you already know that, don't you? Lucus, did I mention that the LaRue women are not the kindly old help that they've made themselves out to be. Oh no, they are ruthless queens who have a shady past stretching back to Haiti."

  No matter how I justified it, our relationship did have some very twisted issues. There was so much that he could end up despising me for and ruining this little fantasy that somehow I would be able to set things right. Even though I didn't want to openly accept it yet, I had a sneaking suspicion that Lucus was involved in this whole mess in ways that went much deeper than what was on the surface.

  My bare feet hit the dirt of the familiar oak-lined path leading up to the main house, and I stopped to catch my breath. No matter how many times I saw it, the picture of D
arkwood house under the soft glow of a full moon always managed to take my breath away. The house was dark except for the porch lights which bathed the marble floor in a serene, ethereal glow. It resembled a pool of icy water, and I thought of La Sirene’s kingdom under the sea and her bold proclamation: “Lawlessness is at work and will continue until He is revealed. Anarchy is engulfing the world, and the kingdom is being birthed as we speak. The beast is rising from the sea, and I will be the queen of the sea and the land above. He promised me so."

  I took another deep breath and calmly walked up the path. It was eerily silent, so I assumed if there were any guests, they must have been sleeping already. How in the world would I explain what had happened and how I got back? Who had been at my funeral? Had Emilie televised it to tug on the heart strings of the public?

  All of my fears vanished the moment I saw him sitting there. Book in one hand, and a crystal glass half full of whiskey in the other. He was unaware that he was being watched. His long shiny dark hair fell over one eye and his signature white t-shirt was slightly sticky due to the heat. At least we matched. He rocked back and forth in deep thought as he took in the words of the book. His brow was furrowed in concentration, and every so often his mouth would twist as if not fully agreeing with what he was reading. I loved how the summer sun had given him a lovely tanned glow and was relieved that he had been getting plenty of fresh air.

  Slowly, and as quietly as I could, I continued to walk down the path. A waft of an ocean breeze, coconuts and roses indicated that Rosaline was lurking around somewhere. I reached the shiny steps of the porch, and he still hadn't looked up which made me almost jealous of the damn book. A mighty gust of wind caused the silver chimes to sing in an eerie manner. He glanced up and then back down at the book and then back up again. For several seconds, he simply stared at me intently as if he saw some apparition from the past. He put down the book and glass of whiskey before finally getting up from the wicker chair.