Rebelled, an Arelia LaRue Novel #7

by Kira Saito

  Chapter Eighteen

  Darkwood Plantation, Present Day

  It looks like you’ve seen a ghost

  After I gained some composure and managed to drag myself up and off the floor, I ran down the dark hallway and up the spiral staircase. I figured that I had to be mature and reasonable. Chasing Lucus into the night wasn't the best idea, as I knew that he needed time to reflect on the various truth bombs I had dropped on him. I wanted our relationship to grow and mature to the point where I wasn't always second guessing his feelings for me. I still had to tell the ugly voices off from time to time. The darkness and silence were thick, and it seemed as if I was stuck in my tomb again.

  “Watch it!” A gruff, half-asleep voice yelled as I crashed into its hard naked chest.

  “Louis?” I placed my hands to the mystery stranger’s face and was overjoyed. I traced the outline of a bum-chin and perfectly sculpted jaw. “Oh, Louis! Am I glad to see you!” I gave him a spontaneous hug. I sniffed his rum/cigarette and John the Conqueror Root infused skin, which was slightly moist due to the overwhelming humidity that engulfed the night. The ice that had overtaken my body was quickly replaced by a flood of warmth, love, and familiarity.

  “What the hell? Who the hell are you?” I couldn’t see his face, but given the tone of his voice, he seemed as if he was ready to perform a spell that would banish me from his presence and send me back to where I came from. He fumbled through the darkness until he finally managed to turn on the small overhead night light. Dressed in nothing but a pair of old boxers, he stared at me with a hard distrusting expression taking in everything from my tear-stained cheeks, bloody white dress and muddy bare feet. “Oh shit, don’t tell me you’ve come back to haunt and torment me. Look, since you’ve been gone, I’ve sweetened up to Prince Charming. I haven’t killed the evil witch Emilie until I’ve formulated a solid plan. I’m eating my vegetables and drinking a little less, so you can go back and rest in peace. I’ll even call a priest in the morning if you want.”

  “Help me… Help me… I’m in so much pain…” I whispered as if I were a tragically depressed spirit who had somehow found herself in the wrong place at the wrong time. “The pain is too great… Tooooo great…" I knew better to mock the spirits, but the look on his face was too priceless to stop.

  “Oh shit!” He was genuinely distressed at my little act. “We gave you a proper burial. What do you want? Why are you back?”

  “Louis… I am back to make sure you don’t drink yourself to death, to make sure you wash and iron your t-shirts occasionally, and never forget to brush your teeth before going to bed. Why are you up at this hour? It’s past your bedtime… I am here to make sure you get eight hours of sleep every night.”

  He gave me a smirk and pressed his lips against mine giving me a big old smack on the mouth. “Smells like cinnamon, brandy, and bullshit,” he said as he pulled away. “How the hell did you get back? And more importantly where the hell have you been?”

  A laugh escaped from my lips. “It looks like you’ve seen a ghost. I’m back from the future.”

  “How was it?”

  "Ugly as watching Mr. Dumpty lust over the newest waitress. I can tell you all about it after I take a bath." I wanted to lament, obsess and gossip over what had happened between Lucus and me as any normal girl would want to do, however, as I had been told more than once, a true queen couldn't pour her heart and soul out at the drop of a hat. She had to show a certain amount of restraint.

  "Hell no, I'm not letting you out of my sight, or you'll disappear again. I told you not to trust that creepy kid. She's the one who stabbed you in the back, wasn't she?"

  "You were right. I took care of her, so Emilie has one less access route to me," I said, coolly, as I made my way up the stairs.

  “You took care of it? How exactly?” he asked following me.

  “I have my ways and means.”

  "You have to give me more than that, Queen. You come back from the dead, had the balls to destroy the creepy kid, and on top of all that, you saw the future. If it's as horrible as you claim, then I demand to know what you saw and how it involves the poor suckers Emilie is manipulating. More importantly, I demand to know what happens to my mother's soul."

  “It doesn’t involve only Emilie. It involves all of us. Every single soul and spirit that is lurking around on this plane has to make a choice and has to make it fast. If I had all of the answers, then I would tell you, but I don't. I have no clue what happens to your mother or any of us."

  I wasn't sure if it would be wise to tell Louis about his future role as a ruthless dictator powered by the seemingly well-intentioned We Matter Organization. It was hard to imagine him in that role, but at the same time, I knew that the line between sanity and utter depravity was very thin and could be easily skewed. All of the loa who I had come to love had pasts so horrific that they were too afraid to openly confess their crimes. It dawned on me that maybe their lack of an outright confession was an act of mercy on their part. Were they waiting until I was really ready to hear the truth?

  “What the hell does that mean?” he asked as he followed me into the bathroom.

  “Some privacy please,” I said as my grimy feet hit the bone-white marble floor.

  “I already told you, I’m not going anywhere.”

  "Fine. Stay and watch. I don't care." I flicked the light switch, and the low glow of the crystal chandelier illuminated the spacious room. My eyes took in the sight of the deliciously inviting marble tub begging to be filled with warm bubbles. My heart sank as my eyes rested on the large shelves full of soaps, herbs, candles, spiritual bath powders and bubble bath mixes. The Amazing Grace bottle was half-empty. Viola had insisted that she wanted more bubbles, and we had ended up using way more product than necessary.

  "Queen quit drifting into la-la land.” Louis’ irritated voice squashed my momentary lapse into sentimentality. I quickly recovered. It wasn’t time for self-pity. I had to take a purification bath which would protect me and those under this roof against any counterattacks that would come as a result of the spell I had just performed. I grabbed two thick white candles, a handful of hyssop, and a handful of rue before turning on the delicate metal tap of the tub. The water roared as it crashed against the cool marble.

  "I'll tell you more if you grab some sea salt, hold my hand and recite psalm 51 with me," I said as I lit the candles and threw the ingredients in the water.

  “Fine. If that’s what it’s going to take then so be it,” he said grabbing a fist full of salt and throwing it into the now fragrant pool of water. We held hands and recited the psalm.

  Purge me with hyssop, and I shall be clean: wash me, and I shall be whiter than snow.

  Make me hear joy and gladness; that the bones which thou hast broken may rejoice.

  Hide thy face from my sins, and blot out all mine iniquities.

  Create in me a clean heart, O God; and renew a right spirit within me.

  Cast me not away from thy presence, and take not thy holy spirit from me.

  * * *

  “Turn around,” I said once we had finished the psalm. “I have to get undressed, and despite our new found friendship, I’m not comfortable getting naked in front of you.”

  “Oh don’t flatter yourself. It’s not like I haven’t seen it all before,” said Louis as he grudgingly turned around letting me slip out of the muddy dress and into the soothing water. Deliciously warm and nurturing, the water was supernaturally infused by the ingredients and syllables of the psalm. Peace entered the marrow of my weary bones and a strange sense of security eased some of my more pressing doubts. “Is her highness ready to address the demands of the public?” Louis asked mockingly.

  “The peasant may take a seat at the edge of the queen’s tub,” I said with an equal measure of sarcasm. I had learned that if you let Louis believe that he was upsetting you, he took delight in pressing your buttons even more. If you played along with him and pretended that nothing got to you, he usually
got bored and backed off.

  He took a seat on the grand ledge of the tub. For a few moments, we sat in silence merely eyeing one another suspiciously. The flicker of the flames danced in his gray eyes, and I saw a certain exhaustion behind them as if he was utterly worn out by the situation we found ourselves in. Shadows crept on the walls, and the soft clamor of wind chimes from the nearby garden echoed throughout the room. Every so often, the night air would bring with it a lingering scent of orchids, water lilies, and wisteria. The faint smell of rain told me that a flash summer storm was brewing in the distance. I prayed that Lucus had come to his senses and was safe indoors.

  “What did you see?” he asked calmly interrupting my newfound peace as he examined my face for traces of bullshit.

  "Terror," I said deciding that I would give him selective bits of the future. "That's the best way I can describe it. Everyone was in constant fear of ambushes and mass terror attacks on innocent lives."

  “Mass blood sacrifices,” he said smoothly. “Innocent blood shed at the height of fear is the most potent type of sacrifice.”

  "Yes, exactly, but the general public didn't know that. They believed in lone-wolf shooters, tales of revenge and extremists. Everyone was blaming one another and pointing their fingers at their neighbors. There was massive racial and religious division, and it felt as if war was just around the corner. That’s all the news ever spoke about. War and rumors of war.”

  “Who was behind the sacrifices?” he asked. “Don’t tell me it was some scrawny kid on anti-depressants.”

  I sank further into the hot water, but this time, I wasn’t going to wish for death by drowning. I couldn’t tell him that he was going to be responsible for so many deaths. “The only one who gets pleasure out of pain is the devil,” I said avoiding the uncomfortable question and the even more painful answer.

  He took a handful of water and splashed it on my face. “Hey what the hell! Why did you do that?”

  “To wipe the crap off of your face. We both know that the devil needs his minions to carry out his dirty deeds. Was it Barbie? Was she carrying out the rituals?”

  "She was a part of it, but she wasn't alone. The part she played wasn't one of open confusion. She offered hope to the people and insisted that the country had to unite and become great again despite our differences. I remember that she was planning the country's biggest spiritual revival in front of the Louisiana Capitol Building. She had a massive church called Angel Pulse United, and it was global. She has so many followers and worshippers."

  “Bigger than Osteen?”

  “She made Osteen seem like a county bumpkin preacher. Her church was international and was funded by the elites of New Orleans like the Dreauxs, Richards and the LaPlantes which makes no sense.” I finally said the words I had dreaded to confess.

  “LaPlantes?” He raised an eyebrow in confusion. “Prince Charming was funding Barbie?”

  I shook my head. “No. He wasn’t in that reality. He was only in the mirror. Tony and Emilie mentioned that the LaPlantes lived in Europe. I guess they meant Lucus’ remaining family like his cousins…”

  “Where was I?” he pressed for more answers.

  “You were the lead singer of a very popular blues band, and the leader of an activist organization that fought for the rights of the black community.”

  He stroked his chin thoughtfully. “Hmm, that doesn’t sound like a bad hand of cards.”

  “In theory,” I muttered unwilling to reveal the prediction Lucus had told me.

  “What does that mean?”

  "Nothing. There was so much mistrust; that's all. Everyone was searching for solutions even you. Your group was accused of carrying out acts of terrorism and murder."

  Louis wasn’t fazed by his fate. “Was I older?”

  It suddenly occurred to me that he had aged. “Yes, you were! You had aged a good ten years.”

  “Which means you broke the curse and freed Prince Charming and my mother?” he asked stunned at my revelation.

  “I didn’t see Lucus or your mother,” I said in frustration realizing that maybe breaking the curse meant Lucus would, in fact, die. I couldn’t walk down that path. I couldn’t let those thoughts enter my mind, but they already had. It was the only possibility that made sense. Is that why he felt so guilty for bringing me back to this side? Was he aware that the moment I broke the curse he would die? And I would be left to bury him? Was he caught between the same struggle I found myself in, the one that danced between self-sacrifice and selfishness? If it came down to that, would I be able to let him go? How could I let him go when we finally found one another again?

  Chapter Nineteen

  Darkwood Plantation, Present Day

  Rules for Radicals

  Silence filled the room again. A soft rain had started to pound against the window pane, and the candle flames were exhausted by a powerful wind. The chandelier lights flickered and fizzled for a few seconds before completely fading. It felt like death was watching and mocking us. I wanted Louis to comfort me to say something anything at all that would encourage me, but he sat utterly silent, calm and quiet. "Say something," I whispered desperately into the darkness.

  When he finally spoke his voice was rough and like a sharp dagger that cut through the silence. "I don't know what to fully make out of all of this, Queen, but what I do know is that we have to beat the enemy by using his tactics. There is no way in hell we can give up on the people we love and let the innocent masses become puppets in some war they don’t know how to fight. We have to fight for them.”

  I was relieved that he was willing to stand by me regardless of how ugly it would get. “What exactly are those?”

  “Listen carefully. There are some basic rules the enemy uses to divide and conquer. We have to study the old serpent’s rules and use them to crush his ugly tentacles before they can touch us.”

  "I'm listening." I sat up straight and cursed myself for not having a pen and paper handy.

  “Power is not only what you have, but what the enemy thinks you have. Whenever possible, go outside the expertise of the enemy. Look for ways to increase insecurity, anxiety, and uncertainty. Ridicule is man’s most potent weapon. There is no defense. It’s irrational. It’s infuriating. It also works as a key pressure point to force the enemy into concessions. Keep the pressure on. Never let up. Keep trying new things to keep the opposition off balance. As the opposition masters one approach, hit them from the flank with something new. The threat is usually more terrifying than the thing itself. Imagination and ego can dream up many more consequences than any activist. Lastly, the price of a successful attack is a constructive alternative. Never let the enemy score points because you’re caught without a solution to the problem.”

  “You’ve been reading Alinsky, haven’t you?” I asked as I struggled to remember the entire list. His knowledge was impressive, but it was also frightening. It was becoming clearer that if he wanted to, he could transform into the man Lucus warned me about.

  “Look, the enemy likes to give people a heads up before attacking, but most people are too blind or too stupid to take heed of the warnings.”

  “Messages are hidden in plain sight,” I recalled how the devil loved to mock those who weren’t wise to his ways. The signs were everywhere if you bothered to look, hidden in music, magazines, television shows and even on the clothes you wore. Everyone was serving a side, even if they didn’t consciously recognize the fact.

  “Exactly.”

  "What do you suggest I do next? I've destroyed Viola, and I've come back from the dead learning all sorts of things that have terrified me to no end."

  "I know you're tired, but the next thing you have to do is abolish Edmond's spirit to some other side. Do it in a ruthless way. Send a message to Emilie and Him that we're no longer afraid of shedding a little blood and getting our hands dirty. You know how those Mexican drug cartels like to chop up bodies real nice and tiny to get their point across? Maybe even sacrifice that fat k
id, Ben. Next, you have to grow some bigger balls and force those tricky loa to show you what they know even if it’s going to dapper your perfect ideals of a rosy, magnolia-scented future and make them squirm. Whatever messed up shit they did has to come to the forefront, so we can learn what type of cancer we’re dealing with. ”

  “It’s so easy for you to sit there and spew your knowledge out at me, but you know that I’m not the best at playing the part of a cold-hearted bitch." My emotional defensive side was outraged at his play by play method of ruthlessly getting things done. Perhaps, I wasn't ready to hear what the spirits would tell me next and what implications it would hold. Plus, there was no way in hell that I would sacrifice poor Ben. His soul was safely intact, and I was sure of that.

  "This isn't about you, and it's never been entirely about you. You see, at first, I was consumed by such blind hatred for Prince Charming that I made it my entire life's mission to make sure he suffered the way I suffered, however, now that I see there is a bigger plan in place to make slaves out of even more pathetic souls. I can't let that happen, and if you don't do anything about it, I will."

  His voice had horribly threatening undertones and an image of him saying the days of rage had arrived flashed through my head. It became clear why he would become a useful puppet for the enemy. He had good intentions, but they were overclouded by his personal convictions.

  Slowly, I reached out and took his hand into mine. It was rough and cold to the touch as if it had seen years of hard labor, troubled times, a whole lot of heartache. "Louis, listen to me. We can't become the enemy. That's what he wants us to do. He wants us to imitate him and use his tactics so he can take the glory for himself and gather more followers into his fold of radicalism. We have to find our path and listen to Bon Dieu’s voice. We cannot become that which we loathe. We can’t follow the left-handed path because all it’s going to lead to is bloodshed and turmoil.”