by Kira Saito
“Lucus, it’s me,” I said. “I’m back.” Knots of anxiety twisted in my stomach, and I clasped my hands bracing for what he would say and do.
He was frozen as he took in the sight of my bloodstained burial gown, tangled hair and mud stained skin. His eyes widened and shone brilliantly at the realization that it was, in fact, me. Without a word, he ran down the steps and pulled me into his arms. I buried my face in his neck and inhaled the summer sun, melancholy, and hope that made up his scent. A surge of unconditional love pumped through my veins, and I knew that this is what we felt for one another.
“Arelia, it worked. You're back." For moments, he held me against his chest as if he was afraid that I would vanish if he let go. "You're here," he repeated over and over again, as he ran his fingers through my hair, traced the outline of my muddy face with his hands, and wiped the tears that dripped down my cheeks. "My foolish eyes and desires aren't playing tricks on me, are they?" His hopeful eyes searched my face eagerly. "This isn't a dream within a dream, is it? I have had plenty of those since you’ve been gone. The good Lord knows I can’t handle any more of this torture.”
"No. I'm here. I can touch you and feel you." I cupped his cheeks and kissed his full lips with such force and passion that I lost all sense of reason of where I was, the battle that lay ahead and the damned old devil that was hell-bent on destroying us. Infused with whiskey, love and a whole lot of spirit, we kissed as if it was the last time we would ever see one another. Once we stopped, I examined his face carefully recording every nook and cranny. I took in the exact shade and thickness of his hair, the fullness of his lips, the length of his eyelashes and the sharpness of his cheekbones.
“Are you hurt?” he asked realizing that my hands were covered in blood.
"The blood isn't mine," I said slowly dreading the fact that I would have to fess up eventually. I wondered where Viola was now. Was she free? Had mercy been taken on her soul? Did he know who killed me? How much did he know exactly?
He looked at me waiting for me to reveal where the mystery blood had come from.
"It's a long story, but I swear I'll tell you sooner rather than later," I said quickly. "Everything is alright I swear. I'm not hurt."
He sighed in relief. “Arelia, when you died, my sky fell, and the world turned into a strange place full of whispers and shadows. I thought I went mad. Nothing made sense. I didn't make sense. Perhaps, I did things that I shouldn't have."
I softly stroked his cheek and looked deep into his confused eyes. There was something different about them, something that I had never seen before. They were harder, a little less kind and more distrusting. Guilt flooded me as I thought of all the secrets I had kept from him over the course of our relationship. I had been too weak to trust him, or maybe I thought he wouldn’t be able to take what I had to reveal to him. None of that mattered now. I was going to correct my wrongs and make things right no matter what the cost. “It’s because of you I found my way back. You’re the reason I’m alive at all.”
"It's never been done before," he said. "I've been reading, and a true resurrection has not been performed by anyone but Dieu Himself. What I did was utter blasphemy. It was witchcraft and dark magic. I followed the left-hand path because of my selfish desires to have you back at my side."
I took a step back confused at his reasoning. “What do you mean? How exactly did you bring me back to life?”
“I heard the one you call Rosaline. Her tormented voice filled my days and haunted my nights. Hers were the only words that occupied my thoughts.”
An irrational jealousy overtook me. It was silly to be jealous of a breathtakingly beautiful spirit that occupied every second of your love's thoughts, wasn't it? "What did you hear her say?"
“She insisted that I had to bring you back to life. Night after night, I stood in front of my bedroom mirror which I was told is a portal to the abyss. She whispered words in my ears and brought me strange roots, then she told me the words I needed to say to you. I saw you in heaven. You were so happy. You were about to be married.”
“I wasn’t in heaven!” I interrupted him. “I was trapped on a side in which I had no place being. A side that was put there to neutralize my powers and to make sure I could never stop the evil that is about to engulf the world and especially this glorious city and country that we love so much.” It was a dramatic outburst and maybe I could have been more delicate in my presentation of such sensitive information, but I was tired of telling half-truths and keeping secrets.
“But I saw you. You were bathed in light and were wearing a wedding dress. You were the most beautiful bride that I have ever seen.”
My cheeks got hot at his compliment. Even though it was not the time to get distracted, I really couldn’t help it. “I was?” I asked slipping back into love struck teen mode again.
“You were,” he said giving me a sly smile and a slow kiss that further distracted me from the task at hand.
I gave him a shy smile, too afraid to tell him that in every one of my dreams, he was the groom. I remembered when I was Cecile, Lucus and I had plans to go to France and get legally married. Would he ever ask me again? What was it about wartime that made everyone suddenly want to get married? I guess it was the horrific realization that life was fragile, and no one was promised another day. "I'll take the flattery. What else did you see?"
“That’s all. Only you bathed in a beautiful white light wearing a gorgeous wedding gown.”
"Don't you remember the words that you spoke to me and the instructions that you ordered me to follow?" I asked confused as to why he was oblivious to what had happened. "You don't remember the Rose of Jericho and what you knew about the future?"
"Rosaline whispered the words I had to say and the instructions I had to give you. The only thing I was allowed to see was you dressed in your wedding gown. I said the words and focused on your image in the mirror. The next day, I would forget the words I spoke. I repeated this strange ritual for forty days. She insisted that the words spoken were being transmitted from my soul to yours, and she was only the mediator. Did I say horrible things? Did I pull you out of paradise?" he asked anxiously. His expression tense, convicted and thoroughly confused. "I'm terribly sorry if I did. The moment I found your body in the river a part of me died with you. The stab wounds inflicted on your back were horrific. We tried everything to revive you, but nothing worked."
I quickly put two and two together. La Sirene had been working to counteract Rosaline’s efforts by only allowing Lucus to see a part of the picture, the part that would be the least likely to convince him that I was in danger. The deception ran deep.
“Who do you think stabbed me?” I asked curiously as to the lies that were told to explain my death.
“The police came to the conclusion that the mystery man who kidnapped Sabrina must have snuck onto the property and carried out a brutal act of revenge.”
Of course, she did. “Lucus, listen to me," I said soothingly. "You saved me. You brought me back to life and once again made me realize that I have so much more to offer the world. While I was dying, there was a moment where I gave up. I no longer wanted to fight for my life or others. I even doubted the love we have for one another, but you never doubted. You took a gigantic leap of faith, and that is what brought me back."
He wasn’t convinced. “My entire life I have been taught that the dead do not return. They may lurk around as spirits and such, but coming back to life in the same body is the work of the devil himself.”
“Are you calling Bon Dieu the devil?” I asked.
His brow tensed in confusion. “What do you mean?”
“He rose Lazarus from the dead, didn’t He? Isn’t that what He promises us, life?”
“Yes, but…” I could sense that Lucus was desperately searching for the words that would somehow help him understand the bizarre situation we found ourselves in. “That’s entirely different. I’m nothing but a man made of clay, not Dieu. When this curse was placed on m
e, my parents consulted various priests and mighty men of Dieu who insisted that I was trapped to atone for the sins of my forefathers.”
I let out a frustrated sigh and now was better understanding why Emilie had taken on the role of a loving evangelist. It was easier to manipulate the masses if they were brainwashed to blindly follow those in power.
“And I’m nothing but a rebellious girl with a somewhat nasty temper, bouts of paranoia and fears that ninety-nine percent of the population would find irrational, but that doesn’t mean I’m not useful. Who claims that those so-called mighty men of Dieu are wiser and more powerful than you? You see, what I’ve learned is that we all like to place Dieu in a tiny box or a grand cathedral. We want to believe that He stopped speaking and acting at the end of Revelation, but that simply isn't true. He spoke through a donkey, for crying out loud!"
He smiled, and his eyes radiated in admiration. "Go on Ms. LaRue. You’ve got my full attention.”
I smiled back at him and continued. “Unlike the devil who feeds on the vanity of his followers, Dieu exalts the weak and confounds the plans of the wicked and evil. I mean, He shut down CERN using a measly weasel.”
“CERN?” Lucus raised an eyebrow.
"Yeah, that big old particle machine they have in Switzerland. They claim it's for scientific research, but something about it gives me the creeps."
“Why in the world do you think Dieu would bother shutting it down with a weasel?”
I shrugged. “Because He has a sense of humor. I’m convinced He used you to bring me back. I wasn’t in heaven. Like I said, I was in a type of hell where I wasn’t going to be useful to anyone, not even myself. I was put there by none other than the enemy himself.”
His tight expression evaporated entirely, and I could feel relief flooding back into his blood. "So it was a miracle."
“They happen every day if you stop long enough to appreciate them or take notice.”
He pulled me even closer and buried his nose into my muddy hair as if wanting to hide from some inevitable fate that he was too afraid to face. "I hear voices, Arelia. Maybe I'm a coward, but that terrifies me. I've always believed in the unseen world but… The spirits are calling, and I don't know what to make of it."
“But you were never really a part of it before, were you? You were always an observer going by blind faith in what I told you or what my family told you.”
“I suppose that’s exactly it. I assumed I was nothing more than a mere bystander in a secret battle that is raging around me.”
His words rang so true. "I admit it's much more complicated than any of us can understand. I don't know why you're starting to hear the spirits, but you have to be careful and test all of them. You can't go around trusting everyone you meet."
“Yes ma’am,” he teased. “I am working on it. I’ve been making my way through the LaRue family spell book hoping to make sense of it all.”
“So that is what you were reading? I was afraid that you’d never get your nose out of it.”
“It is a fascinating piece of literature. Is there anything else I should know? Anything that isn't written in the book?"
I had to tell him, and I had to do it quickly, but the words failed to come out. “Not anything in particular at this exact second. I’m starving, how about we grab something to eat?” I asked buying time and courage.
Laughter radiated from his strong chest. I wanted to lean on it forever. "It is you, isn't it?"
“Yes, it is. I’m not some demon-possessed zombie.” I thought of Viola and guilt washed over me again.
“Come on now. Let’s get some food in that belly of yours. I bet you’ve got some stories to tell. What you saw in this hell you found yourself in must have been quite surreal.” He took me by the hand and led me into the house.
My heart sank as I followed him inside. Why did it feel like this would be our last normal moment together?
Chapter Sixteen
Darkwood Plantation, Present Day
Coffee and Confessions
The cool marble floor of the house was a welcome relief from the humid night air. I felt guilty for staining its impeccably polished surface, but the feeling quickly passed as a loud growl erupted from my stomach. It was eerily dark and silent as we navigated our way into the spacious kitchen, which was filled with the lingering scents of buttery roux, cocktail aux crevettes, red beans and rice, béarnaise sauce, sweet corn fritters and cavier, foie gras beignet au lait, sweet pecan pie with caramel sauce and the fiercely spicy café brulot diabolique. I inhaled every glorious ingredient I could identify and thought of how in the world I was going to fess up to all of the secrets I had been hiding.
Lucus flipped on the lights, and the long counters dazzled as if they had been freshly cleaned. “Are the guests still here?” I asked making idle small talk as we peered into the gigantic refrigerator.
“They are. I wanted to send everyone packing, but Mae insisted that we couldn’t admit defeat and show your murderer that we were afraid.”
“How is everyone?” I had an overwhelming urge to wake up Grand-mere Bea and give her a big hug. It didn’t matter what side I ended up on, she was the one person who always looked out for my well-being. She was the one constant in my life.
"Understandably, your aunt and grand-mere are distraught. Louis has softened a bit towards me since your death and insisted that he would spend the rest of the summer on the plantation. Sabrina made an impassioned plea to the nation that this senseless violence must stop and that we need to all come together. I've heard that her new church is the largest in all of New Orleans, and thousands of people from around the country are flocking to her for advice and encouragement."
Anger rushed through my veins, and my appetite vanished. “Is that so?” I asked letting my disgust show. Emilie was no longer lurking in the shadows, and neither would I.
Lucus picked up on my angst and closed the refrigerator door. He turned to face me. “Is everything okay?” he asked gently searching my face for clues as to why I was so pissed.
I realized that my arms were crossed in defense mode. It probably wasn’t the best way to make earth-shattering revelations. “I’m not so hungry anymore maybe we can make some coffee and talk. I have something to tell you, and I know once I do, you’ll never look at me the same way again.”
He pulled me close and simply held me. I calmed down, and all of the evil and dark schemes vanished. The sweet scent of red chrysanthemums from the little garden outside the kitchen door swirled around us. His lips met mine, and I was taken back to our first kiss and how I had chosen him over Tony. I now understood why. I couldn't imagine life without Lucus.
Maybe we weren't entirely responsible for choosing who we loved. Perhaps, in the grand scheme of things every aspect of our lives was arranged according to a plan that was beyond our limited perspective. "It doesn't matter what you tell me; it won't change the way I feel about you. Not now and not ever."
“Please don’t make promises that you won’t be able to keep,” I said quietly not fully capable of looking him in the eyes.
“I am a man of my word,” he said simply with unshakeable conviction. “Go on, what is it? You don’t ever have to be afraid to open up to me.”
I wanted to spit it out already, but I figured that he needed to sit down first. Isn't that what doctors always told people before telling them that the operation was unsuccessful? "How about you have a seat, and I'll whip us up some café brulot diabolique?”
“I can make it,” he offered. “After all you've been through the last thing you need is to exert any more energy. In fact, you should run yourself a hot bath and let me bring the coffee to your room.”
As tempting as his offer was, I couldn't accept it. It would only mean more delays and more secrets between us. I was over torturing myself and lying to him. "No, it's totally fine. I insist that you have a seat, and I'll make it. You know how cooking calms my nerves. You'd be doing me a favor."
"Well, I can't refuse a
lady's request, can I?" His eyes gleamed under the kitchen lights, and his previous paranoia about bringing me back from the dead had vanished. My heart swelled at the realization that my presence made him happy.
“No, you can’t. It would be completely not Southern gentlemanly of you.”
Without further argument, he pulled out two small wooden stools and took a seat at one of the counters. He watched carefully as I worked my magic and brewed a pot of strong black coffee. Afterward, I combined cinnamon, cloves, a lemon peel, sugar and lots of brandy in a fireproof bowl. I placed the bowl on the counter in front of him and ignited it with a match. The flames danced in fiery joy, and the spicy scent of the coffee filled my nostrils as I combined it with the mixture. I ladled the blend into two demitasse cups and took a seat beside him.
“Thank you,” he said.
“No problem.” I took a sip of the flaming hot coffee and gathered my courage. “Promise me you won’t say anything until I finish?”
“I swear.” He dramatically placed his hand over his heart giving me his vow of silence.
The words that I had been dying to say came out in a seemingly endless flow. I began by telling him that I was, in fact, Cecile and the story of why I had been given a second chance. I watched as his eyes widened and mouth opened and closed with soundless words. I continued by telling him the story of the vow of silence I had given Ti-Jean and why I only broke it now. That led me to the story of Viola and how Edmond’s spirit was still lurking around this place. Rapid tears fell into my cup as I recalled how I struggled to save Viola, but it had been futile. I had been given so many warnings by Erzulie and Rosaline, but I had chosen to be stubborn and had walked my path. In graphic detail, I highlighted how I had eventually freed her soul, and her body was now resting in my tomb. That was the worst part of the confession. As I continued to speak, even I couldn't believe half of the fantastical things that were coming out of my mouth. They sounded like the delusions of a maniac craving attention. Any less understanding person would have immediately called the cops and would have me tossed in jail for sheer lunacy.
