She let up her grip on my arm and sat back down, breathing hard like she was exhausted. “Those cursed by the Seven are not allowed to marry a mortal. To do so is to ensure their own end.”
“Tristan and I aren’t married,” I protested.
She shook her head. “It doesn’t matter. They know. They know where love lies. They know the truth in his heart. They know that you are his chosen mate.”
I wrapped my fingers around the top of the chair to support myself. It was bittersweet to hear how much he cared from the lips of a woman who seemed to see so much.
Maybe Tristan really did love me.
But if his love for me was going to bring his death…
“Where is he right now?” I asked, suddenly aware that my lover was out there somewhere, talking to someone, and I had no idea if he was in danger. I had no idea if his meeting today had something to do with this so-called curse.
“I don’t know,” she said, shaking her head. “I can’t say.”
Some fortune teller you are. “You told me that another woman brought him down. Who was she?”
Madame Lola pulled her eyes to mine again. “She was…someone he cared for. She destroyed him once, but this time it’s you…it’s you who will do it.” Her voice held the ice of accusation, of scorn for my irresponsible affection. As if I was at fault for falling for the love of my life.
“I would never hurt him,” I said softly, but I knew that she wasn’t talking about a deliberate act. She meant that I would ruin him simply by existing, by letting him care for me. “I could never hurt him…I don’t understand any of this.”
“You want to understand? Look to his past,” she said. “Learn from the mistakes he made. Understand who he is, and you will know what it is that you have to do.”
“I know who he is,” I told her.
“Do you? Do you truly know him?” she asked. She looked so tired now, like our conversation had sapped her energy away. “Do you have any idea what it is that you’ve unleashed on the world by loving him, Ariana?”
I shouldn’t have been startled to hear my name on her lips, but it sent a jagged shot of ice through my veins.
“Who…what..are you?” I asked, breathing deep to try and slow the incessant pounding in my chest.
She looked away for a moment, cupping a gnarled hand over her mouth before meeting my gaze again. “I’m what happens when fate is cruel,” she said. “I am a walking warning for those who don’t obey the laws of the Seven.” Her eyes moved towards the beaded door. “Now go. Leave me, please. I need to rest.”
Chapter 25
I all but sprinted towards the hotel, my insides twisting into a massive knot of fear.
Whatever Tristan was up to, I could only hope that it wasn’t dangerous. All I wanted was to protect him, to protect us. To feel his arms around me, his voice assuring me that whatever drivel Madame Lola had uttered, we were going to be fine.
I needed him more than I ever had.
But it was still morning, and he’d said he wouldn’t be back until the afternoon. Damn him for not carrying a cell phone with him.
Still, I raced into our suite and looked around, calling his name. When no reply came, I darted to the stairwell and headed down to room 217. When I reached the door I knocked hard, hoping against hope to find Kara still inside.
She opened the door, a coffee in hand, and shot me a friendly smile. “Hey, Ariana. Do you want to come in?” But even as she spoke, the smile faded. “Oh, my God. What’s wrong?”
“Do you know where Tristan is?” I asked.
The Valkyrie shook her head. “No, though he said he has a meeting today. Can I help you with something?”
I knotted my fingers together, trying to resist the desire to dig my nails into my skin. Look to his past, Madame Lola had said.
“I need a car,” I blurted out. “Could I borrow yours?”
Kara nodded. “It’s Tristan’s, so of course you can. But you look upset. Do you want me to come with you, wherever it is you’re going?”
I shook my head. I wanted to tell her what was happening, but I was torn between the knowledge that I might burst into hysterical tears and the fact that what I had to say would sound insane, not to mention flat-out stupid.
“Okay,” Kara said. “Just a second.” She strode over to a nearby purse and pulled out a black-topped key, which she promptly handed it to me. “The car’s parked just outside. But why don’t you come in and sit down for a second?” she asked. “You don’t look so good.”
I considered it but stood my ground. “I need to find something,” I said. “I’m not sure what it is, but I need to look for it…” I was rambling like a crazy person. “It’s really important.”
“You’re worried about Tristan. He’s done something.” Kara tensed, as if her entire body was enraged. “Damn him.”
“Why? Do you know something?” I asked, terrified of what her answer might be.
“No,” she replied. “He just…he has a way of keeping secrets that hurt others. It’s his one fatal flaw.”
“He’s been trying to open up to me,” I replied. “I give him credit for that. But I’m afraid that the most important secret is one that he’ll never tell me. So I have no choice but to figure it out for myself.” I began to turn away, ready to race downstairs and find the car outside.
“Ari—” Kara said, reaching out and grabbing my arm. Panic sprang up in her voice as I spun around to look at her. “Listen—there are some things you don’t want to know.”
I looked deep into her bright green eyes, trying to read her meaning. Did she know? Did she know about the Seven, about the curse, about this other woman who’d supposedly destroyed my lover’s life?
“You’re right, I don’t want to know. But I need to.”
“Ask me, then.”
I bit my lip, hesitating. I supposed I’d rather hear it from Kara than anyone else. “What can you tell me about his past…lovers?” I asked, cringing at the thought that she might answer the question in detail.
She pulled her hand back and let it drop to her side. “Nothing,” she said. “He doesn’t take lovers. Before you, he used to date for show, to give the papers something to chew on. But he didn’t stay with women; he didn’t sleep with them. He never had them at his place. I’ve never seen him take a woman on trips like he does with you.”
“What about before?” I asked. “I mean, before you met him?”
Kara stiffened then. “I don’t know about that,” she said. “Only he and Krane—and a few others—know. They’re the only ones who can tell you led him down the path to where he is now. But I’m not sure it’s a box you want to open up.”
“Krane,” I muttered, my head flooding with conflicted thoughts. “It sounds nuts, but I really wish I could talk to him. Something tells me he’d open up way more than Tristan ever has.”
“You don’t want to talk to that bastard,” Kara growled. “He’s a beast of a man.”
“I know,” I replied. “But there’s something in him—some protective side that looks out for his brother…” I realized what I was saying and stopped. “I’m sorry,” I blurted out. “I know he was there when your Valkyrie sister was killed. I know you blame him, and I’m sure you’re right.”
“I don’t even know if it was Krane’s fault, to be honest. All I know is that it was one of his servants who killed her. His servants, who were trying to get him closer to Tristan. He’s dangerous and impulsive, and he tends to destroy everything he touches. Including Tristan.”
“Those two siblings have a pretty twisted relationship, don’t they?” I said. “Listen, I have to go. If I don’t do this, it’ll eat away at me.”
Kara nodded. “Are you sure I can’t come with you?”
“Thanks,” I answered, “but this is something I really think I need to do on my own.”
With that, I turned and headed for the stairs.
Chapter 26
I had no address for Tristan’s childhood home,
only my memories of the previous day’s sights to guide my way. But by some miracle, relying entirely on instinct and desperation, I found my way to Credence Parish and the narrow dirt road that led between the moss-draped trees to the house where Tristan and Krane had grown up.
When I’d pulled up in front, I sat in the parked Land Rover and stared at the tiny wooden house, my throat dry, my heart racing. Though I had no idea why, something told me this was where I needed to be. It was where I’d find the answers I needed.
The answers Tristan would never give me.
Still, I couldn’t seem to fight back the fear that rose up when I thought about what I might learn. I couldn’t help but be terrified that the truth about my lover would destroy us, tear us apart for good. I wished I could turn back the clock to this morning and tell myself to stay away from Madame Lola’s place. I wished I’d never heard about curses or other women.
All I wanted was the chance at a life with Tristan, no matter how tenuous it might be.
Swallowing hard, I got out of the car, pushed the door closed, and strode over to the tiny house’s front door.
“I have no idea what I’m doing here,” I muttered under my breath as I reached for the ancient iron handle and unlatched it. The door, which apparently didn’t even have a lock on it, swung open under my touch, dust scattering in wispy clouds as though I’d caught it in the midst of some nefarious act.
I stepped inside, peering around a small kitchen covered in dust, cobwebs, the odd piece of furniture draped in cloth. In the distance, a broken window hung over the sink, vines clawing their way inside as though nature was trying to take over the place and tear it apart.
I padded through the room, my eyes taking in every corner, trying to imagine how the place would have looked at the end of the eighteenth century. I supposed the sink wouldn’t have been there when Tristan was a boy. No doubt the house had evolved over the centuries, been renovated, piece by piece, probably by one or the other of the two brothers.
Still, some parts had probably lasted through the years. Something here—some hidden clue—had to tell me what it was that I’d come hunting for.
I looked down at the wide floorboards under my sandals, following their slightly warped lines towards the small bedroom that Tristan had said he’d once shared with his brother.
My feet taking over, I followed the trail of wood until I’d crossed the threshold into the ancient chamber. Once inside the bedroom, I began looking around for clues, my stomach quivering with nerves.
The plaster on the walls was crumbling and cracked. Faded rectangles decorated the walls where pictures had apparently once hung.
But aside from a rickety old wooden bed with no mattress, nothing adorned the room. I bent down to look at the underside of the bed, but saw no traces of Tristan’s presence. No hints as to what had drawn me to this forsaken place.
When I stood up again I took a step towards the window at the front of the room. As though it was trying to signal me, a floorboard squeaked under my left foot. On a whim, I took a step sideways, bent down, and pried at the board with the tips of my fingers. Over the years the wood had warped and expanded to make its fit tight, but with a little effort I managed to pull it loose.
When I’d drawn the wide slab of wood upward, my eyes met the sight of a dark compartment underneath. A leather box sat inside, illuminated only by the sun’s rays making their way through the heavily stained window.
I reached down and pulled the box out, laying the floorboard back into its place. Hands shaking, I carried the box to the kitchen, where I sat down on a cloth-covered chair by the table.
I didn’t care that my clothing was getting dusty. All I felt was fear—and the tiniest dash of hope. Hope that whatever was in this box would help me to find my way to Tristan for good. Hope that we could fight back whatever demons had haunted him all his life.
Together.
I opened the box only to see that it contained an ancient hand-painted deck of cards, a strange, round pendant, and a little leather-bound book.
First I examined the pendant. It was silver, with some swirling, illegible letters engraved into its front. The first might have been an E. The second was either a G or a D. I had to look closely to note the tiny hinge at its side, which mean that it wasn’t a mere decorative piece, but a locket.
With my thumbnail I managed to pry it open. Inside was a tiny painting of a rosy-cheeked young woman with red hair. She was beautiful, her eyes bright, almost alive.
As I stared at her, a bolt of something close to panic struck me in the chest. It was entirely possible that she’d been a love interest of Krane’s, of course. Or maybe it was Josie Picard, the girl that Tristan had kissed.
But something told me her story ran much deeper than that.
I took the book in hand and cracked its cover open. Almost immediately, a corner of the first page broke off like it was nothing more than thin, brittle glass. Gingerly I lifted page, trying my best not to let it crumble under my touch. The humidity in Louisiana’s air must have helped to preserve the internal pages for all these years, because as soon as I managed to flatten the book out on the table, I could see that most were in good shape. Soft and smooth, as though they hadn’t seen sunlight in many years.
When my eyes met the words on the second page I found myself tightening.
This was it. This was what I’d come looking for.
The past.
Journal of Tristan Leclair,
June 2 1804.
Leclair. Tristan had mentioned his original name, but it was still odd to see it scrawled in elegant penmanship above a date so long ago.
The journal’s first few pages seemed to have been written when he was in his twenties. Most of the entries consisted of stories about odd jobs and brief, though apparently inconsequential, romantic exploits. It read more like a banal record of his accomplishments than actual storytelling.
June 30: Chopped down the dogwood tree behind the house.
September 1: Met a possible employer today, though he says he’s not able to pay wages until the spring. I will keep looking. I’ve been drawing up some designs, hoping to get taken on one day as an aspiring architect.
October 15: Mother’s health is improving, though she still needs daily care. I am happy to report that I have found temporary employment in a hotel in town. The wages aren’t high, but perhaps this will lead to something better.
His tone seemed hopeful, the words written by a man who was excited about his future and the potential it held. I could all but feel his elation each time a new prospect arose.
Tristan’s simple dream in his youth, apparently, was to earn a simple living.
November 20: Today I purchased my first suit. A woman in the shop told me that I looked as though I could work at a bank.
It do believe it was the highest compliment I’ve ever been paid.
At some point after that, he seemed to hit a roadblock. The entries became sporadic, reading more like brief complaints about his lack of success than the starry-eyed musings of a hopeful young man.
Still, nothing in the first twenty or so pages particularly caught my eye. The sentiments Tristan expressed were pretty damned normal; he was frustrated, ambitious, held back only by his circumstances. Most of all, he was chronically broke.
To think how much his life had changed since then.
I flipped through the next several pages, looking for clues as to what Madame Lola had been talking about when she’d suggested I look to his past.
I must have worked my way through fifty or so entries before I found what I was looking for.
It was in the summer of 1808 that things started getting interesting. Apparently that was when Tristan met the man known as Demarche.
Things started off well, at least they seemed to:
July 28 1808
Credence Parish, Louisiana
After I showed him several of my designs, Pierre Demarche has hired me to design and construct several buildings
on his plantation, and I could not be happier.
This week marks my first official employment as an architect, and I must say, I’m pleased to have the opportunity to earn some proper income.
I’ve even persuaded Demarche to take Krane on to help with construction. Demarche seems to like my brother as much as he likes me. He refers to us both as his “work horses.” I’m all too happy to be called an equine, given that the man pays us more in a week than I’ve ever made in a year.
For the first time in my life, I have found real and true hope that I might one day rise up out of the poverty in which we were raised. I’ve finally been given a chance to become the man I know I’m meant to be.
Things are looking up for Krane and me, and our future looks bright. We will leave Louisiana one day and move on to bigger and better lands.
I know it.
Chapter 27
As I read the next several entries, a sense of overwhelming dread eased its way inside me. I could all but see what was coming, and all I wanted to do was stop it.
But of course, there’s no stopping the past.
There’s only enduring its consequences.
July 30
Krane took me aside last night to tell me that he doesn’t entirely trust Demarche. It would seem that some of the men under his employ claim that he has a dark side. They say his plantation is haunted by demons, that those close to him are consumed by some devilish foe.
But I choose not to heed their warnings. My employer is good to me, and I intend to see the job through to its completion. Demarche has only ever treated me well and he has earned my respect…as I hope I have earned his.
August 1
Intriguing news. Word has it that Demarche’s daughter Elodie will be returning from several years abroad in the very near future. Her beauty is legendary around the parishes, and I look very much forward to meeting her.
Alpha’s Hunger Box Set: Books 1-3 Page 32
