by D C Young
Unable to explain what I’d seen, I turned to Jade and asked, “Why are there so many spirits wandering around here? It’s the same in the city too. I saw so many in New Orleans, and so frequently, that I was hard pressed at times to tell if they were just people mingling with the crowds or actual ghosts.”
Jade smiled, then asked, “How many ghosts have you seen since you arrived at Parlange this morning?”
“Maybe twenty, I’ve lost count. Right now, there are four with us right here on the porch. Three men and a woman, all dressed very opulently in a sort of eighteenth-century style. They seem to be deep in discussion, almost arguing about something. They repeatedly pause to point out towards the land. I see I’ve seen a lot of workers milling around us too, in the garden; weeding and planting, some carrying tools and poles with bags attached to them. There are maids too coming in and out of the house.”
“In its day Louisiana was home to many plantations and agricultural families from Europe. Like any place whose industry was critical for its citizens to survive, there are many spirits that continue to work just as hard in death as they did in life. It was all they knew then and it’s all they know now. They are incapable of leaving this place; the essentially don’t know how.”
“Is that why haven’t they crossed over?”
“There are many reasons why they haven’t moved on; each spirit has its own.”
“And you don’t feel any need to help them with that when you encounter them roaming around?”
“I don’t meddle in the affairs of people or spirits, Sam. It’s dangerous. They’re happy right where they are. However, if a spirit is tormented, then witches and psychic people are obligated to offer guidance to put that spirit at rest. Are there any disgruntled spirits around here?”
“Not that I can tell. They just seem to be going about their business.”
“Exactly,” Jade said sipping her iced tea.
“But there are so many of them here.”
“Parlange was an indigo plantation. Are you familiar with the process of refining indigo?”
“Not at all. I really have no idea.”
“The harvested leaves of the indigo plant were placed in vats of water to ferment. Historians recorded that the stench of the fermented liquid was so bad indigo was never refined near any of the dwelling on the plantation. So the slaves who did this work had to walk a great distance to the fields and refining house to do their jobs. They would agitate the liquid in the vats to introduce oxygen which would develop the color of the indigo and then cause the solid dye to settle at the bottom of the vats, and then they would scrape the sludge out into cotton bags to dry, press the product into cakes and prepare the dye for export.” Jade paused to sip her drink again. “Between the labor intensive process and the noxious fumes, an indigo workers lifespan was only about seven years. That’s why there are a lot of dead indigo workers at Parlange and everyday they get up and go back out to those indigo fields to do their jobs.”
“What about these four on the porch with us?”
“The owners; Vincent de Ternant, his son and daughter-in-law Charles and Virginie de Ternant and the other gentleman is Virginie’s second husband, Colonel Charles Parlange. They’re harmless. Every day they come out here to squabble over the plantations future, just as they did several times in history. They won’t leave this land until this house no longer exists for them to occupy and they won’t allow that to happen.”
“That persistence the French colonists had seems to be very much a part of Louisiana’s people today.”
“You’re quite right, everyone here came from somewhere else, the difference between Louisianians and everyone else is that we all remember where we came from and we cherish those memories from our past just as much as we cherish the lives we lead at present. One should never forget where they came from or you won’t have a clue where you’re going.”
“I see.”
“And that’s why Yemaya will find that New Orleans will not be an easy target for her to destroy. We won’t roll over and play dead, we will fight. This place is ours and we will die before we see it destroyed. Much like the Ternant- Parlange family over there, we can’t allow that to happen.”
Chapter Nineteen
Sam
I’m off to see the wizard.
Two days later, I was in a cab with the rest of the family headed to the Louis Armstrong New Orleans airport. We got checked in for our flights and made our way through to the departure lounge.
I didn’t want to see them go, but I didn’t feel I had a choice. If the worst came to the worst, New Orleans was not the place I wanted them to be.
When the call came for the flight to Los Angeles, I scurried around making sure Tammy and Anthony had picked up all their belongings. I hugged them tightly and told them to listen to their Aunt Mary and Uncle Rick. I hugged Mary Lou and Rick in turn, and then squeezed their kids in a huge huddle.
It was the hardest thing for me to watch them all walking down the dock towards their plane, but it was the best way to ensure their safety.
I waited until the attendants closed the gate and the plane was backing away from the building before finally turning around to go find my own departure gate. I was about to catch a flight to Barbados where the entire Louisiana Council, Bridget Bishop and Julia Agrippina would be joining forces to capture Yemaya.
Ironically, they were going to be doing that with a bottle.
Chapter Twenty
Rennie Telfair
Samantha Moon… my friend.
“Mister Telfair,” Collins called out to me one evening when I was alone in the study at Seagull Point several days after Sam and her family had departed.
“Mister Collins,” I responded. I was pretty sure of what it was that was on his mind, but it is always respectful to allow the spirit to say their piece without making assumptions or interrupting them. It was a lesson that every psychic has to learn either the easy way or the hard way. “I trust that my kinfolk have made you welcome among them.”
“They have made me welcome, but it is time for me to move on,” Collins replied.
“I wondered if it wasn’t time,” I replied. Though I’d never noticed that my sense of humor had any effect on the spirits, I gave it a shot anyway. “You might take a few of my kinfolk along with you when you go.”
“I wanted to thank you for what you’ve done,” Collins continued, not responding to my comment or even seeming to consider it. Were things so serious in the spirit world?
“I’ve only passed along critical information to those who can use it to protect the people of New Orleans,” I responded.
“Perhaps, but in so doing and in making certain that Ambrose was cleared of the charge of murder, you’ve allowed for my freedom and given rest to my soul.”
Though I hadn’t yet heard from any of those in New Orleans who had gone out into the Caribbean to battle with Yemaya and planned to capture her, that bit of information from Collins was enough to let me know that whatever had been done by the Guardian of Louisiana and those who had gone to sea with her had been successful.
“Things are set right, then?” I replied, already feeling that deep contentment that always comes over me after successfully completing a particular task for one of the paranormal world.
“Things are set right,” he answered. He didn’t linger after that. Why would he? A spirit set free is intent on moving on into that other dimension and away from the anguish and pain of the one that we inhabit.
I poured two fingers of bourbon and mixed in three fingers of Coke. It wasn’t tea time, but I was ready for my own special blend of tea. I’d settled back into my chair and was relishing both the drink and the satisfaction of sending Collins on his way when I received a telephone call from Julia, the Elder Watcher.
“I thought you might like to know that I just got word from the Guardian that Yemaya has been taken care of,” Julia announced in her official sounding tone. It was an odd quirk of the Greek that never
ceased to amaze me. And they call me eccentric.
“I assumed that it had been taken care of,” I responded. “Mister Collins left me only moments before your call.”
“Your bit of information and the way that you presented it to Samantha was an enormous contribution for which we are thankful.”
“I have no doubt that our young Miss Moon distinguished herself in New Orleans.” It was something of a question and a statement of confidence all mixed together. In the two meetings that I had enjoyed with Sam, I had been extremely impressed with what I saw in her.
“Miss Moon continues to distinguish herself just as she always has.” Julia paused a moment before continuing on. “It seems, unless I miss my guess, that she has made quite an impression on you. Has she not?”
“She has made an impression on me,” I replied. “She has, indeed. She stirred things up here among the kinfolks while she was here and I don’t think I’ve laughed as heartily as I did in her company in years.”
“She is a delight,” Julia replied. “I’m glad that you two made that special connection. It would be good if you cultivated it, don’t you think? Her daughter Tammy is just becoming aware of her own psychic skills. There might be an opportunity for mentoring at some point in the future.”
“Cultivating a friendship with Sam is something that I intend to do anyway,” I responded.
“Sam, is it?” I could hear the broad smile in her voice.
“Don’t go jumping to conclusions,” I warned.
Julia laughed. “Please, let’s have tea next time you’re on the West Coast, shall we?”
“Indeed,” I replied.
We disconnected, I got up from the comfortable chair, carried my “tea” over to the desk, set it down on the corner of the desk mat and pulled my chair up under the desk. Reaching into the top drawer on the left side, I pulled out a box of mint green stationery and a fountain pen that I favored. I was about to begin the note when I received another call.
“Mister Telfair,” Erika Blackwell’s voice said.
“Miss Blackwell, it’s good to hear from you,” I responded.
“I can’t talk long,” she replied. “But I wanted to let you know that Yemaya has been captured and that we have you, in part, to thank.”
“I merely passed along critical information to Miss Moon,” I replied.
“Yes, but the manner in which you did so and the person with whom you trusted that information showed prudence and decorum.”
“I take it that you were also impressed with Miss Moon?”
“Extraordinarily impressed, Mister Telfair,” she replied. “Jade and I have made a lifetime friend of her and she has earned the great respect of all those here in the Big Easy.”
“I am glad to hear it.” The smile on my face was stretching my lips to the point that it was almost painful.
“I must go, Mister Telfair, but once again, thank you.”
“You are very welcome,” I replied.
When the call ended, I scratched out a simple note upon the stationery, addressed the envelope to Sam, dropped it in my outgoing mailbox and then reclined in my desk chair with Kentucky’s finest mixed with Coke on my proud and contented lips.
Epilogue
Two days after catching a sea spirit in a bottle off the coast of Barbados, I was home. The kids were at a friend’s birthday, and I took to my desk to go through the mail. There were the usual; the water bill, electric, US Weekly magazine and Tammy’s InStyle, all of which I pushed to the side but soon enough a few interesting envelopes popped up.
I read through the thank you notes and was overcome with emotion. Although I’d avoided doing so during the whole encounter with the Louisiana witches, I cried.
Happy tears.
A pleasant surprise had been a postcard with a picture of the Roman Archway tomb at Bonaventure Cemetery; the ‘The Gateway to Heaven’. It was from Dani. ‘I hope your vacation was one to remember. I hope to see you again in Savannah.’
Boy, would she like to know.
Then, it came down to a pretty mint green envelope. The return address read: Hilton Head Island, S.C. but that was all I’d needed.
Dear Miss Moon,
I cannot begin to say how much of a pleasure it has been to have met you and to give what insight I could into yours and Mr. Fulcrum’s cases.
I’ve had news that the crisis in New Orleans was expertly diverted and that your help in the matter was an overall blessing. I am particularly pleased that you have formed a connection with the Louisiana factions; everyone there speaks so highly of you and the Western Elders. It says much about our California community.
As for Mr. Collins, his spirit has left Seagull Point. It seems that his satisfaction with the outcome of both Mr. Ambrose’s trial and the capture of Yemaya has put his soul at rest. Should that change I will be sure to alert you, of course.
I implore you, Samantha, please don’t hesitate in the future to contact me should you ever need my help.
I am now and forever your friend,
Rennie Telfair.
The End
The Chronicles of the Immortal Council returns in:
Vampire Reflections
Return to the Table of Contents
VAMPIRE REFLECTIONS
The Chronicles of the Immortal Council #6
A Vampire for Hire story
by
D.C. Young
Foreward
by J.R. Rain
Hi there and welcome!
J.R. Rain here, and I’m so excited to introduce you to my “Vampire for Hire World”! As you might have guessed, these are written by writers other than me. Fair warning, these stories are non-canon (as in, unofficial) but they’re still a ton of fun. I’m excited to see the Samantha Moon world grow, and I’m equally excited to see all these wonderful writers exploring her world with me.
So, sit back and enjoy Vampire Reflections!
—J.R.
Vampire Reflections
Chapter One
It was a gorgeous afternoon and for the first day in weeks since I’d returned from New Orleans, I had no clients scheduled.
On the TV, Judge Judy was going at a young woman who was beating around the bush about the facts surrounding her custody case against her child’s father.
It was obvious the ruling was going to be in her favor but she just couldn’t seem to get it together and just answer the judge’s questions. At one point, Judge Judy did her signature eye roll, and I busted out laughing.
This is the point where you just shut up, lady. Let the Judge get to work for you!
When the ruling was handed down and the court broke off for the participant commentary, my mind began to wander over everything that had happened in my life over the last six months.
Judge Judy had that effect on me at times… careful reflection; the kind that solved cases and stuck it to the bad guy.
Since my first encounter with the Immortal Council, and its fantastical members over a year ago, I’d been on the strangest and most exciting adventures. I’d saved immortal lives and destroyed some as well… so many new things I’d added to my resume; a resume I’d have to alter extensively before showing it to any of my potential human clients.
There’s been a maniacal Nazi doctor, the dødehekse, or dead witch as Bjorn Ironside had translated it, Himiko the Japanese witch queen, the blood thirsty demon inside my own body… these had been just a few of the fights I’ve engaged in this year. It’s made for a freak parade and a very full calendar.
But it hasn’t all been menacing, I thought to myself. There have been new alliances struck and friends and colleagues made.
Thoughts of the Benoir sisters and the other New Orleans supernatural beings, the many immortal inhabitants of the Hollywood Hills mansion, Elysium House and most of all, my new ally in the East, Rennie Telfair, flooded over me and I smiled.
No, it hadn’t been all bad stuff at all.
With December looming just a week away, my mind wa
s cast back to a previous Christmas. I’d had the pleasure of meeting one of the most serene and genuinely wholesome people I’d encountered in a long time. His name was Charlie Anderson and he’d walked into my home office on an afternoon when I’d more than needed a positive soul around me. He’d sported the cleanest, purest aura I’d had the pleasure of seeing in a long while up to that point, and just basking in it as I sat in my noisy leather chair across the desk from him had been balmy.
I’d been cleaning house in the dark and watching Judge Judy rip someone’s cheating husband a new one, when my doorbell rang. Even though I probably had been enjoying the case a bit more than I should have, I hurried over to the door and opened it.
My potential new client was right on time. He was a tall fellow with a short, gray beard, bad teeth, nervous eyes and a peaceful aura. In fact, the aura that surrounded him was so serene that I did a double take.
I showed him to my office and he took a seat in one of the four client chairs. I moved around my desk and sat in my leather chair, picked up my liquid gel pen and opened my pad of paper to a blank page.
“You mentioned in your email something about needing help finding something that was lost.”
“Yes, but it was stolen, actually.”
I clicked open my pen. “Okay, then. So, what exactly is it that’s been stolen?”
“A safe,” he said.
I think I blinked. “A safe?”
“Yes. A safe. It was stolen from me, and I need your help to find it.”
As Mr. Anderson explained it became clear the safe had been handed down through his family for many generations although it had never been opened, and no one knew what was inside. Charlie’s father had left the safe to him nearly twenty years prior when he’d passed away. But, a gang of hoodlums had recently moved into Charlie’s neighborhood, and soon after, some of Charlie’s things had started going missing. Small things at first; a gas can, the loose change from the ashtray in his car and now he was willing to bet that those same punks had stolen his safe.