Darkest Pattern- The Door

by Riva Zmajoki

The Marshal accepted his answer but instead of waiting he turned their whole house upside down searching for runaway slaves.

  Carol thought about the woman in the carriage but said nothing of her. There was no need for him to compromise his mistress further.

  She was already too vulnerable before the world.

  ‘The important thing to remember is: never lose the Phoenix,’ his master was determinant. ‘Not for the reasons you think, not because we have the use of her, but because she’s our way towards redemption. When we get tired, she’ll show us the path back to the light. She knows the secret of how to be twisted inside and keep the flames of virtue burning within. Every time she falls, she just gets back up unbroken because she knows how to find a white tile to step on even when everything seems dark.’

  6.2 The Wall

  White Phoenix

  Cynthia was happy at White Phoenix. No one bothered her. Major-Domo seemed not to notice the maids. Eddy, the errand boy, was just a kid and no other men bothered them.

  She was just fine by that.

  What mistress did was her own business?

  Everything seemed to go her way but then the patrolmen came. They tossed things around. There was a Federal Marshal among them cross-examining them about some slaves.

  Cynthia wasn’t really bothered with their question or them making a mess.

  She was too distracted by all those men suddenly invading their quiet space. They were all neatly dressed in their uniforms. The uniforms didn’t help but the worst part was that they all filled those uniforms nicely.

  There were all sizes of men and all of them were fit and handsome. It was like someone with impeccable taste came in and picked out the best from the best.

  Suddenly, Cynthia found herself thinking of her lost lover, of the times when he would climb into her room. These men would be more than welcome. The only problem was that she wouldn’t have the way to choose which one she likes the best.

  They all moved around none of them focusing on her. She pressed herself to the wall hoping that no one will notice the state she found herself in. In the same time, she did hope at least one of them will.

  Tricia was in her battle mode ready to throw all those patrolmen out. There was no hope she could accomplish that but she could stare at them with her deadly stare hoping they’ll disappear soon.

  “The pregnant maid,” the Marshal demanded from them. “I need to see the pregnant maid.”

  “There is no such maid here,” Tricia said loudly challenging others to contradict her. “We’re here decent women, all of us. You have no business molesting us like this.”

  “And your mistress,” the Marshal leaned in her face but Tricia stood her ground. “Is she a decent woman? Why isn’t she awake? Let me in her room.”

  “No man will enter into her room until she’s ready to get out,” Tricia answered him firmly ready to defend her mistress with her life.

  “Is that so?” the Marshal turned to Major-Domo. “Are women always in charge here or will you open me that door?”

  “I don’t have a key, none of us has a key,” Major-Domo said stiffly. “You can try and tear down that door but the mistress made a reinforcement. She fears someone might get in while she sleeps.”

  “Then we’ll wait,” the Marshal shouted. “You heard the honourable ladies and gentlemen. Turn this house upside down I want to find clues. They had to leave some.”

  Whenever he would come by the station Santos couldn’t help but stare at two walls covered with posters. One was covered with white faces and another with black ones.

  He had reason to watch at both of those walls.

  On the white one stood the poster with his grandmother.

  ‘Belva Durant,’ it said. ‘Wanted.’

  The prize on her head was considerable. She was supposed to be delivered to Camden for trial.

  On the black wall stood the poster of his father. There was no name but Santos would recognize his face anywhere.

  ‘A Runaway Slave,’ said underneath and a hefty sum as a reward if he’s returned to the plantation Black Cotton.

  Santos was sure that his father was born free and that he never served as a slave to anyone so that poster confused him.

  “What’s with this wall,” Santos finally succumbed to his curiosity and started a conversation hoping that Luiz will explain it to him. “Are those black criminals and runaway slaves together. Why not divide criminals from runaways?”

  “The black criminals are killed at sight,” Luiz said absently reading some files. “Besides, there are barely any free black folks around here. For crimes of slaves, their owners are tasked to rectify. Thankfully we don’t have to go into cotton fields and mess into their methods of engagement.”

  “But you are tasked with catching and retrieving the runaway ones. I never saw you even glance at this board or run after slaves.”

  “Others are enough engrossed into that task. I’m more preoccupied with justice. Besides, I never look at that wall. It’s useless, you wouldn’t recognize anyone by it.”

  Santos felt anger.

  “Why? Because they all look the same?”

  “Don’t be so crude,” Luiz looked up at him puzzled. “No one looks the same, God created us abundantly different. That wall is useless because owners don’t spend their days observing their slaves. That’s why when they go missing the description they give us is always the same. Those aren’t descriptions, those are caricatures.”

  Santos looked upon the wall and realized that Luiz is right. Other pictures all looked the same. When he realized that, his father seemed even odder standing on that wall. He was pictured almost faithful. Almost, because he was pictured young. Maybe even young like Santos. That’s why the resemblance between the two of them was more pronounced than ever.

  Luckily, Luiz didn’t look upon that wall.

  “What do you have for me today?” he asked today.

  “The lady of the house again sold a field,” he said simply.

  “If she keeps this up, there will be nothing left to sell. What she’s up to? Will she just run away?”

  6.3 The Missing Woman

  Between Tiles

  Evan started to lose faith in his mother.

  She seemed reasonable enough to drop the scarf-making but now that was replaced by these silly gifts that came with runaways.

  Despite his protests and efforts to sway their railroad around York County, in which Luiz had his reign, his mother went through with her plan and included that white house as a safe station.

  The first desperate runaway tried it and the girl went through without problems equipped like she’ll travel all the way through north on her own.

  On the bottom of her bag, there was a present for his mother.

  For a moment, Evan had hoped that the package contained something useful. He hoped that his mother was wise beyond measure and that the white lady was an ally on which they can count on.

  That hope was crushed when his mother opened the parcel. Inside was nothing. Few ribbons, two buttons and the clew of purple thread.

  Instead of laughing and throwing that useless junk by the road his mother almost cried.

  Evan observed her all confused as she touched the ribbons like something important.

  Even worse than her reaction, was the fact that she didn’t throw the package out but kept it.

  She placed it inside her bag and carried it around. Evan started to fear and soon his fear came through. Other parcels came and his mother decided to keep each and one of them.

  It was maddening to look at her carrying the bag that became heavier each time they did a round.

  Luiz was furious.

  They were so close and they just slipped through his fingers like they were made of air. Only ghosts could do that and they weren’t still on the other side. They were tangible enough to walk around him and mock his incompetence to catch them.

  Why would they do this to him only to disappear?

  It’s li
ke they didn’t haunt Luiz enough.

  Was their goal to make him mad?

  If that was so, he won’t yield. He’ll never yield before their kind. They showed their true colours when they conspired to kill his father.

  It was like his father was nothing. He was just delivered to their doorstep with his heart pierced through.

  “Belva Durant did it,” her sister said like it made it right. “We disowned her and her bastard child. They ran away but they won’t go far. They will be punished and we’ll be the first to spit in their face when they do. They aren’t kin of ours.”

  They bowed their heads towards Luiz’ mother and she nodded like it was alright, like family bonds can be broken just so, with few words.

  They left and Luiz looked upon their father not sure what he feels. Since he grew up he didn’t look upon his father like an impeccable person who knew everything about the world. In fact, he doubted him. He doubted many things he said and resented other things he did.

  Now he lied dead upon Luiz’s feet and Luiz tried to make himself feel regret, sorrow, and anger.

  Instead, all he could feel was confusion.

  Why would Belva Durant do this?

  What could happen to make a wise woman like her that knew how to look down to lose her mind?

  The answer offered itself in the back of Luiz’s mind but he refused to see it. Then Francis stepped beside him.

  “I heard her say just yesterday,” he whispered in Luiz’s ear. “That she’ll come and kill you for what you did to her son. I guess she decided to kill father instead and take her son away from you. I can see that is a fitting punishment. I would do the same. Leave you helpless and unable to punish them.”

  Luiz looked at him feeling how his cheeks run red from anger and shame.

  “You lie, you always lie. What could I ever do to him for her to say that?”

  “Apparently he said to her that you did something shameful. I couldn’t quite understand but he defended himself for something. You know how I love to listen in on other people’s fights. She caught him in something and he just defended himself by claiming that you forced him, and that he would never do something so wrong.”

  Luiz just stood there in stunned silence.

  “What did you do little brother? I want to know, maybe I can do the same.”

  “Lies, those are all lies. If you repeat them to anyone I’ll smash your head in.”

  “That is a bad choice of words before our father,” Francis mocked him. “It’s a pity that you won’t be able to punish them, we’ll be too busy with running the plantation to be bothered with a vengeance. Besides, it’s best that father is gone, he was just getting in the way of fun.”

  “You’re worse than he is,” Luiz told him coldly. “Besides, there is no way that I’ll be sitting here watching grass grow while they run free.”

  “It’s not like you can do something about that,” Francis said indifferently.

  “I can and I will, you just watch me. I’ll deliver her here to be punished for what she did to father,” Luiz vowed. “She had no right.”

  “And him? What will you do to him when you find him? He did betray you.” Francis looked at him coldly. “Or are you so quick to forgive and forget? I bet that in a few days you’ll just lay down by the river and watch it flow by.”

  Luiz wasn’t so weak to forgive and forget.

  His younger brother Francis stayed to lead the family plantation but Luiz fled to become a man of law, someone capable enough to punish those who did his father wrong.

  Now, he had an opportunity to do just that and it just slipped through his fingers.

  He was going through reports frantically when a discrepancy caught his eye.

  A report of a carriage.

  At one outpost the carriage had a male and a female passenger but on the second one another, pregnant, female appeared.

  Luiz jumped from joy and ran to catch at least a tale of an eel if he can’t get an otter.

  STATION THREE

  In your conductor, you must trust.

  Otherwise, you’re all at risk.

  There are conductors who are less than confident and who know to lose their way. Some of them even lose passengers but that is the peril of the way.

  Pray to the beyond and trust your conductor. Maybe this is the first trip they are conducting and the next one will be better for those who follow you.

  Still, your goal is freedom. If you do fall off the rails and end up on your own in the unknown terrain sing your songs and count your braids. They might be a life-saver.

  Try to find familiar sights and recognize trustworthy faces. They will direct you back to the railroad where another conductor will pick you up.

  VII. Turn Around, You’ll See Nothing is Left

  07/08/1859

  Josephine,

  Repent. I see that you started the journey towards cleanliness, but to get there you must cover your head from the world view and submerge yourself into prayers.

  That is a hard journey but maybe it’ll give you Purgatory instead of Hell.

  I would hate to see you suffer for eternity.

  Yet, if our Lord and Saviour see it fit I won’t go against his judgement.

  To prevent that from happening I urge you to look behind upon your life.

  I think that it won’t be hard to see that your wicked life left nothing behind for you to savour in your late years.

  It’s too late now to repair now but constant sorrow and regret might save you at least from eternal flames of the abyss below our feet.

  Be wise and listen to my advice.

  Federica.

  7.0 The Secret Room

  Josephine woke up happy. She stretched her arms and discovered that the bed was empty. Through her open curtains, the light came in announcing that it is mid-day outside.

  Belva left. On the pillow beside was all that was left of her. Her pistol lied there carefully put with the barrel pointing away from Josephine.

  She took it to her hands failing to understand the meaning of this gift but still she was strangely comforted by the fact that Belva left something of her own behind. It was as Josephine meant something to her.

  ‘Love can’t be wrong,’ was still written on its handle and Josephine tried not to read too much into it.

  Those were just the words someone else said to Belva, she didn’t say it now to Josephine.

  Josephine caressed the sheet beside her. It was cold so Josephine got up all determinant to fix this day, to repair her life.

  Her good survived as she dressed herself up. Belva was out there and Josephine meant something to her.

  Josephine chose a brown dress which Belva wore before. Some of her scents were still in the fabric. That made Josephine feel as she was submerged in her. Shortly Josephine considered where to put her pistol but then she realized that she didn’t feel like parting with it. Besides, Belva might come back for it. Surely, Josephine wouldn’t want for her to just take the pistol without even a kiss.

  Josephine laughed then realizing that her broad old-fashioned skirt had an unexpected purpose. She took the pistol and tied it with ribbons to the outer side of her thigh. It stood there like some strange decoration pressing itself to Josephine’s skin.

  To make sure that the pistol can’t be noticed she spun around. There was no way to notice it so Josephine left her rooms feeling playful.

  Outside of her room, she found chaos.

  Two of her maids crouched before her door. Without a word, they ran down the stairs as soon as they noticed her. Josephine was confused, that was strange even for her maids. Slowly Josephine went down the stairs.

  On the ground floor, there was confusion and rush. The rush was caused by the patrolmen who went around turning her furniture, searching for something. In the midst of the raid stood a man and smiled widely when Josephine came to his sight. Clearly, he was running this display of power.

  “Good afternoon, or good morning,” he saluted her mockin
gly.

  Josephine felt shivers from his tone but the metal pressed to her skin reminded her that she has some sort of defence, an alternative. That made her straighten up and approached the man not shaking from fear.

  “I hear that you sleep under the key,” the man kept talking when Josephine stayed silent.

  She just gestured towards the salon. There was no need to let him play his theatre before all his men.

  “How can I help you,” she said when they were seated, “mister?”

  Her armed thigh she pointed towards him. He frowned dissatisfied with her serene face.

  “Luiz Terdreau, Federal Marshal Luiz Terdreau,” he said proudly. “I think you know exactly why we are here.”

  “You must pardon me, but I really don’t,” if he came just a few days earlier she would know that he came for her decadence, but now she didn’t know for which of her wrongdoings he came.

  Besides, why would she give up in advance? There will be at least some difficulties in hunting her down.

  “What kind of a woman sleeps locked up?” he kept going searching for betraying emotions on her face.

  “The woman without a husband,” Josephine offered.

  “Or the woman who is hiding something,” he leaned forward fixating her with his cold blue eyes. “Or someone.”

  Josephine’s laughter echoed around the salon. There was no one hidden in her room anymore.

  “Who would I hide under my skirts?” Josephine mocked him. “Maybe bones of my late husband.”

  “Don’t play with me,” he was offended. “There are dangerous criminals on the loose and you know that well. You crossed the barricades and brought someone across.”

  Josephine lifted her eyebrows sceptically. All of her lies came to her aid now, there was no way for him to read her face.

  “And who that might be?” she restrained her laughter from releasing its ring once again, her mood was far too bright for the situation.

  “A woman, a dangerous revolutionary,” he said heavily.

  That made Josephine’s laughter to get away from her once more.