by Jones, L. A.
Tales of Aradia The Last Witch
Volume 2
Written by L.A. Jones
Edited by Harrison Bradlow
I dedicate this book to my Aunt Chrissy and Uncle Steven Pressfield: the author of the Legend of Bagger Vance and the War of Art. Their faith and belief in me when it came to my writing has brought me this far, and with the guidance and strength that they give me every day I know will take me even further.
Copyright L.A. Jones 2010
Published at Smashwords
This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
Chapter One
"Master Maurice, breakfast is ready!"
Maurice kicked off the sheets of his bed. It was hot and sticky, but that was to be expected. It was getting close to June so the humidity from the summer was sure to follow.
And summer means summer parties. Maurice smiled to himself as he threw his dressing robe on and slipped on his slippers. Summer parties means girls looking for husbands. Eager, pretty, plump and pleasing girls. I may be too young to get married but they don't know that and what they don't know won't hurt them. He chuckled to himself as he walked out of his room.
The halls to the manor were long and pearly white that almost seemed to shimmer when the slaves opened the windows. It was seven am but the slaves had been up since three. There were a lot of things to be done on a Mississippi plantation and not just in the manor. The fields, the cotton processing, and so much more.
It's a good thing we got so many slaves to do it for us. Hell, if we had to do all this ourselves the cost of workers alone would be staggering. Thank God for heathens and free labor.
He chuckled even more as he finally entered the dinning room.
His father was already at the head of the table and dressed for the day. Wade, his twin, was also already seated as well and munching his eggs greedily. Two male slaves dressed in the family livery stood near the kitchen while a few female slaves catered to the table. His father frowned which always made Maurice laugh. I can't help it. What with his thick mustache and pale complexion...he looks like a painted puppet.
"What's so funny, dear brother of mine?" Wade asked, his mouth full of egg.
His father frowned even deeper. "Honestly children, didn't your mother raise to behave like proper southern gentlemen?"
Maurice sat down as a female slave rushed forward to pile food upon his plate. "We are almost eighteen Papa. We are not children anymore."
"Then stop acting like them!" His father snapped sharply. He then turned back to reading the paper.
Maurice turned to eat his breakfast. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw his brother stretch out his arms so his hand could deliberately rest on the slave girl's waist. Her eyes flew open, but she didn't budge. Wade seemed encouraged by that and started to grip her middle.
Maurice shook his head and shot a sideways glance at his father. Wade just rolled his eyes and then started to reach with his other hand towards the girl's bosom.
She stiffened, stood up, and shut her eyes. His hand now mere inches away, Wade's smile became more like a lecherous grin.
His father, eyes still on the paper, flipped a page and snapped. "Wade, if you feel a need to associate yourself with filth like a slave woman I suggest you do it privately. Southern gentlemen do not fondle their mistresses at the table." With a wave of his hand, he dismissed the girl who curtsied and eagerly rushed away.
Wade, his grin now gone, returned begrudgingly to his breakfast.
Maurice had half finished his before he noticed something amiss. "Where's mother?"
His father sighed deeply. "She's not feeling any better today."
Maurice's ears perked up a bit. "Can I go see her?"
His father shrugged. "After you change into proper clothes."
"Maurice, my son! How lovely for you to visit me today."
Maurice grinned as he looked at the weakened southern lady laying in the big fluffy bed. Her once shiny and wavy brown hair, lay limp about her shoulders. The bloom was gone from her cheeks, her blue eyes dull as marbles, and her lips chapped.
She looks old, Maurice thought. Yet he still rushed towards his mother with open arms as if she was still the most beautiful women in all of the South.
His mother, Antoinette Le Roux, in her younger days, had been considered the belle of the south. The most exquisite and richest woman of the age. Heiress to a vast plantation fortune with a beauty to match. His father had had more than enough competition for her hand and yet he proved once for all the family motto: "A McAlester never loses."
Story of my life. Maurice chuckled.
"You are much too thin Maurice," his mother tsk-tsked at him. "Are you ill?"
Sound hilarious coming from you. "No Mother, I am fine. I was just coming to check on you."
He then flashed his dashing smile with the twinkle sparkling in his eye. It was this look that won over many a woman in the South. This, however, was his mother he was smiling at.
She sighed, "what do you want now?"
Maurice drew back. "Why mother, I don't know what you mean."
She folded her thin arms and half-smiled. "You only 'come to check on me' when you want something so how much do you want?"
Maurice tossed his head casually. He thought this would add a bit sincerity but his mother just stared at him. He then signed and held up two fingers in a rectangular fashion. "Just a little."
She laughed softly and pointed towards her dresser drawer. He eagerly bounced up from the bed and pulled out the lower drawer. He pulled out the cash and counted it. "Thank you mother."
She smiled. "Anything for you Maurice."
He nodded and was about to leave. After one glance, he went to his mother's side to kiss her cheek. She smiled even wider but Maurice hardly noticed. He turned on his heel and left.
Now, he thought to himself, to buy some gifts for my ladies.
It hasn't been easy but Maurice was finally able to corner Amelie in her Uncle's library.
Her Uncle had been the first to throw a party for the summer season and she was visiting for only a couple of months. Maurice couldn't have begged for a better opportunity for seduction. He had met her a couple of weeks ago at a Polo match. She wasn't really anything special, plain black hair with a rectangular face and pointed nose but she was young and she was naive. He had to move fast before rumors about him reached her ears. Isolating her from her friends had been hard but doable. He had showered with compliments, walks in the park, tea times, and gifts. The crystal blue necklace, however that he had bought on sale in town was what would be the turning point. His chance to complete his game.
"Oh Maurice, it's beautiful!" Amelie gasped as soon as she saw the necklace.
Maurice grinned as he dangled it in front of her. "May I put it on you?"
She nodded eagerly and turned around. Her hair was already up in a bun so all she had to do is stand still. Maurice, with a great flourish of his hand, placed the crystal blue necklace slowly at the base of her throat. He made sure his hands touched her flesh as the silver chain went around her neck. He took his time doing the clasp and grinned when Amelie developed goosebumps. She giggled as he finally did the clasp. He then placed his hands on her shoulders and slowly kissed her neck.
"Oh Maurice Ma' cheré. I cannot wait until we are married."
Maurice's tongue slowly flicked out to caress her skin. "Neither can I."
His hands slowly made their way down her dress.
Maurice sighed, his chin resting on her shoulder blades. "Amelie, I talked to my father and you have talked to yours. They both have given us their blessings. We are as good as married. So why wait to consummate it?"
"But Maurice..."
He sighed heavily and spun Amelie around. He silenced her protests with a kiss. God I love virgins. They long for a man's touch so desperately that they practically melt like a candle wax. It makes them so easy to manipulate.
Amelie tried to protest but her words got lost in her moans of pleasure.
"Do you want me?" Maurice whispered in her ear.
"Oui! Oui!" Amelie gasped.
Maurice chuckled. "I will take that as a yes."
They then fell back leisurely on the couch.
Two hours later was when they both left.
Amelie whispered something in French to him.
He nodded, understanding every word. "Until tomorrow my love," was what he whispered back.
She giggled as she rushed away. She had expected him to follow her, which he did but only half way. He quickly exited as soon as he saw the door leading out into the garden. Thank God I know this place so well. He chortled under his breath. But of course because I had seduced Mr. Pierre's daughter just last summer. In the same room too.
It was all he could do from laughing out loud. Women! They are so easy! It's almost sad.
He leaned against the house before reaching into his breast pocket. Thank God in spite of our tumble I still managed to hang on to my snuff box.
He snorted heavily and leaned his head back. He listened to the sounds of the Bayou and the insects while letting the satisfaction wash over him. She obviously doesn't do much traveling to honestly believe her father would get her letter by now. However, that was kind of the point. Mind you, the moment her father gets it he will probably freak out considering all the rumors his brother has heard about me. I will probably be banned from their parties forever. Oh well, who cares? After deflowering all his daughters and now his niece there's no challenge left.
And besides, he thought with a malicious grin, after my father is done with him. The value of their estate will go down dramatically so why bother looking at any of them twice.
He laughed again before hearing some rustling in the bushes.
"No please Mr. McAlester. Not here."
"Shut up you little dark bitch! Keep your mouth shut if you know what's good for you!
Maurice then heard something that sounded a lot like a slap.
"Stop sniveling!"
Maurice crept towards the sound and heard rustling of cloth and materials. There on the white stone path between the rose bushes was his twin holding down a whimpering slave.
"What do you think you were doing?" Maurice snapped as he barreled into Wade's room.
His twin stood in front of his mirror stripping off his bow tie and jacket. He paused to admire the finger nail scratches left on his cheek. "Hmm, she was a strong one."
Maurice tapped his foot.
Wade glanced over his shoulder. "What?"
Maurice folded his arms and leaned against the doorway. "I asked you a question, what do you think you were doing?"
Wade cackled as he shed off his shirt and took his jacket to the closet. "Having some fun brother dear."
"With a slave?" Maurice added with disdain dripping from his lips.
Wade cackled again as he flopped onto his bed. "Slaves are so much fun Mo, especially slave women. The real smart ones just do what you say but the other ones...now those could use some taming."
He slowly licked his lips. "Come to think of it, taming them is fun too!"
Maurice slowly exhaled a breath through his nose. "Slaves Wade? You are screwing around with slaves? Why? Why associate with such filth? A man of your standing? When you can have any woman you want."
Wade laughed. "Lots of southern gentlemen have slave mistresses brother dear, we know that better than anyone. After all, our father had a slave mistress."
Maurice grumbled. "Don't remind me." He still remembered the humiliation he had felt when he found out.
Wade laughed at his brother's uneasiness. "Let me tell you something about slave women Maurice. They are nothing more than property. They have no rights or anything, which means you can rape them, beat them, or even cut their hands off and there's nothing they could do about it. It doesn't matter what you do to the slaves and their women because they can't fight back. I once raped a slave woman who I know was married. She threatened me and guess what I did? I told her if she told anybody not only would I order her husband to brought in so he could watch but I would also sell him another trader. Her children too! You should have seen her face it was priceless!"
"What about bastard children?" Maurice pointed out. "Aren't you worried about those?"
Wade shrugged. "Those only have rights if you give them any. Others you can just drown in the bayou or sell if you want to make some money."
Maurice's jaw dropped. Wade laughed again as he rocked back and forth on his bed.
"What about when your married?" Maurice finally sputtered, "your wife won't allow it."
Wade cocked his head. "Who says she won't? Besides she will be my wife. Wives and even children are just as much property as slaves. I can do what I want with them."
"Hey Maurice, would you hurry your little French ass and move this shit!" The stage manager bellowed.
Maurice grumbled as he rushed towards the boxes in question. "Just because my name is Maurice sure as hell don't mean I am French or nothing."
The stage manager had already turned away. Maurice started to swear but then he heard a breathy little laugh behind him. "Really Mo, if Ma could hear you talk like that..."
Maurice grinned grimly. "But Ma ain't here is she?"
He then turned to face the speaker, an experience which seemed more like looking in a mirror. His brother, Wade, stood smiling at him from the same stature; as if he were lighter version of his twin self. People often remarked how frightening it was that the McAlester brothers were so similar. It was to be expected though, after all they were identical twins. Wade, however, somehow took it a bit extreme. He would dress in the same clothes, comb his hair in the same way, and even try to act more like Maurice. His behavior imitations would have succeed if it were not for his frequent fits of coughing.
Maurice grimaced as Wade did just that. "Jesus," Maurice groused, "use a handkerchief why don't you?"
Wade laughed, which was hard considering his coughing fit, "on my salary? Ha!"
Maurice grimaced even further as he hauled the boxes back to prop room. "We would be able to get more wages if this damn war would have ended sooner."
Wade followed him. "We wouldn't even have to stoop so low as to work for wages if this damned war hadn't started."
Maurice sighed as he stacked the boxes from big to small. "Yeah remember how things used to be with us. We were the only living sons of one of the richest plantation owners in the South. We had everything at our fingertips: wealth, power, and privilege."
"And then the war started," Wade interjected.
"Made by bleeding hearts of those damned abolitionists who honestly believe that slavery was immoral," Maurice continued. He then snorted loudly as he turned to face Wade. "Who freaking cares if its immoral or not? They are just filthy slaves! They have no feelings! They are nothing but heathens so they don't deserve rights or nothing."
"Bloody ungrateful darkies," Wade muttered, "after years of feeding them, clothing them, and giving them places to stay. They have the goddamn nerve to demand rights!"
Maurice clenched his fists. "So the first opportunity they get they run off to the north to be free."
"Thus ended the legacy of the wealth, power, and privilege of the McAlester family," Wade concluded with a bitter grin. He coughed into his hand again before turning away.
"Not to mention our lives," Maurice muttered, "although it
hasn't been so bad, traveling here and finding these jobs has been quite an adventure." He sighed as he leaned against the doorway. "But I swore to myself that it was only temporary. Once the war was over, we believe we could go back home with brand new slaves and start again. This, of course, was assuming the south but since the 13the amendment has passed and they say Lee will surrender soon...well those dreams of going back home and making something of our lives now seems more like a dream than a possible reality."
"Hey there boy, how would you like to earn some extra money?"
Maurice turned in the direction of the speaker. He wasn't sure what he was expecting, but it was definitely not a dandy with a fine mustache and fine clothes. He looks like he dressed up for the theater.
"Hey! I know you," Maurice shouted suddenly, "you're John Wilkes Booth! The actor."
Booth smiled. "I guess my reputation precedes me."
Maurice had to laugh. "Please! You are one of the most popular actors ever to walk the stage. We all thought you had moved on to grander stages by now."
Booth grimaced. "Sadly, no. I have lost my taste for acting and developed different appetites."
Maurice raised an eyebrow.
"Most especially, I have developed very particular thirsts such as a thirst for justice."
Now Maurice was intrigued. "What are you talking about Mr. Booth?"
"You still work at this theater do you not?"
Maurice flicked a thumb towards the door. "You see me standing in front of it don't you?"
"Aren't the President and his wife due to come here soon?"
Maurice scowled, and shrugged. "I suppose."
"Well like I said before how would you like to earn some extra money?"
Maurice folded his arms and leaned against the wall. "Depends on what it is."
"As a prop boy you must have access to all sorts of tools..."
"So?" Maurice interrupted.
Booth took a deep breath. "So? How would you like to earn a whole dollar by creating a spy hole in the President's door?"