by Eric Wilder
The single candle burning on the table provided dim light to the room. The wax dripping down its side had turned blood red as the music grew ever louder. Even with the earplugs firmly inserted, I could tell the difference. A hazy cloud began to form in a dark corner of the room.
Because of the hallucinogenic mushroom I’d consumed the first time Mama had employed the music box, I remembered little of the former experience. Now, lucid and coherent, I began to see pentagrams and pentacles floating around the room.
A poisonous viper, causing me to recoil before it slithered to the floor, fell from the ether onto the tabletop in front of me. I was starting to wish I wasn’t quite so coherent when two shadowy figures began to appear.
Once fully formed, I saw a huge man, his skin as black as coal, his face, neck, arms, and bare chest covered with tattoos and tribal markings. The other person was a girl, probably no older than fifteen or sixteen. She had long, red hair and a milky complexion. Though there was some resemblance, I could see neither spirit was either Taj or Adela.
“Who summoned us here?” the spirit of the large black man asked.
“Voodoo mambo Mama Mulate. What is your name?”
“I am Taj, and this is Aisling. You have not answered my question. Why have you summoned us?”
“For answers. Did you live in the Lalaurie Mansion?”
“We were both victims of that vile place,” Taj said.
“Then I need to hear your story,” Mama said. “Will you tell it to me?”
“For what purpose,” the spirit said.
Mama didn’t answer his question. “Do you know what a veve is?”
“Yes,” he said.
Our Taj was in a stupor beside Mama when she opened his robe and revealed the symbol on his chest.
“Have you ever seen this or one like it before?”
“Yes,” he said.
“The young woman with the long red hair has a similar veve on her chest. The Lalauries also victimized these two people. Now, they need your assistance. Will you help them?
“I’ll help,” the female spirit said. “That woman looks like my mama.”
“Where shall we begin?” the giant black man asked.
Chapter 30
The single candle on Mama’s table flickered and died. It mattered little because a ghostly glow filled the room. Candlelight wasn’t all that was missing. Silence had replaced the dulcet tones of the magic music box and the storm raging outside the house.
Taj and Adela, their eyes closed, had slumped forward in their chairs. Also closed were the eyes of the two spirits whom Mama had summoned. Mama was wide-awake and so was I. As we watched, a billowing cloud engulfed the room. The cloud parted to reveal a French Quarter courtyard, circa 1834.
***
Aisling’s long red hair bounced as she crossed the slate floor of the French Quarter Courtyard. Even during winters in New Orleans, palms, ferns, and baskets of hanging flowers combined to form a lovely, enclosed garden. The two-storied building surrounding the courtyard kept it hidden from the people passing outside on the sidewalk. Aisling hated the long dress and petticoats her mother made her wear.
“You must take care not to wear anything provocative,” her mother had told her.
At least the dress was yellow, Aisling’s favorite color.
Aisling loved the courtyard and the garden and spent as much time there as she could. Today, she was looking for Calpurnia, the majestic raven who called the courtyard home.
Except for Aisling’s mother and the Lalauries, everyone else living in the large house was black. Moreover, they were all much older than she was. Shasa, the old cook was her best friend. Shasa fancied herself a voodoo woman. She wasn’t, but having come from Haiti she did know lots about the subject. Aisling had magical powers. She’d known of her powers since she was a child. Aisling sensed she could do far more than she’d ever tried.
Except for her mother and Shasa, Aisling’s only other friend was the raven, Calpurnia. Calpurnia could talk. Aisling had discovered she could also communicate. When Calpurnia wasn’t flying around the French Quarter, she usually occupied a perch suspended from the building’s second-story balcony. Today, she was missing from her perch and Aisling was concerned.
“Calpurnia, where are you,” Aisling said.
Thinking she’d heard the bird’s cackle around one of the courtyard’s many nooks, Aisling walked around the corner to investigate. She found the raven on the shoulder of a man working the flowerbeds with a hoe. Aisling stopped in her tracks.
For a long moment, she stared at the bare upper body of the young man. His skin was light brown, his muscles rippling as he worked the beds. He turned when Aisling spoke.
“That’s my bird. What are you doing with her?”
When Aisling saw the young man’s face, she realized he was not much older than she was. After catching a glimpse of her, he lowered his gaze. Aisling continued staring at his chiseled chest and regal facial features.
“Didn’t you hear me?” she said.
“I’m sorry,” he said, not glancing up to look at her. “Your bird was helping me weed the flowerbeds. We just kind of hit it off and I didn’t know she belonged to anybody.”
“Calpurnia belongs to no one,” Aisling said. “I’ve never known her to take up with anyone but me.”
“Animals like me,” the young man said. “Like I said, I’m sorry.”
“I’m not mad because Calpurnia likes you. I just want to know why you won’t look me in the eye.”
“I can’t,” he said.
“And why can’t you?” she asked.
“Because you are white. We aren’t supposed to look white people in the eye.”
“We?”
“We darkies,” he said.
“That’s absolutely crazy,” she said. “You aren’t much darker than I am.”
“Don’t matter none. You’re white, and I’m a nigger.”
“My mama told me never to use that horrible word. She would kill me if she ever caught me saying it,” Aisling said.
“Your mama must be a special person,” the young man said.
“Yes, she is. Calpurnia, come to me.”
The raven ignored Aisling, staying on the young man’s shoulder. Taking Calpurnia on his wrist, he propelled the bird into the air.
“Go to her,” he said. “You’ll get me in big trouble.”
Calpurnia’s feathers ruffled before flying to Aisling’s awaiting wrist. The young man continued to keep his eyes averted.
“You're rude, you know it,” Aisling said. “And now you’ve turned my raven against me.”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to.”
“You can at least look at me,” she said.
“I can’t. I told you why.”
“There’s no one in the courtyard except for us. I promise I won’t get you in trouble. Please look at me.”
“But you’re white,” he said.
“My mama’s a servant here, just like you.”
“Is your mama a slave?”
“No, but she’s indentured,” Aisling said.
“What does that mean?”
“Mama is Madam Lalaurie’s cousin. Madam Lalaurie brought us from Ireland when my daddy died. Mama has to work for the mistress until she’s paid the price of our passage here.”
“How long will that be?” he asked.
“Don’t know. I’m fifteen, and we’ve been here for three years now. My name is Aisling. What is yours?”
“Darius,” he said.
“How long have you been here, Darius?”
“The mistress bought me yesterday at the slave market on St. Charles.”
“Shasa says the slave market is a horrible place. That’s all she would tell me. Is it true?”
“It’s true,” he said.
“Please tell me about it,” Aisling said.
“You are way too young,” he said.
“I’m as old as you are.”
Darius hesitat
ed as if trying to recall something he’d successfully forgotten, or at least put out of his memory for a while.
“They have a pen behind the market where they keep the slaves until time to sell them. The men, women, and children are stuffed into the pen where there’s barely room to stand. There’s no place to go to the bathroom, and I can’t even tell you how bad it smelled.
“They fed us nothing but bacon ends to fatten us up. The water was hot and the bacon half-cooked and spoiling in the sun. Almost everyone was sick and throwing up.
“People died in the pen waiting to be sold. When they did, the guards would drag their bodies out and throw them into a cart. They took the bodies to the middle of the river and dumped them.”
“That is so awful,” Aisling said. “I’m sorry you had to go through such horror.”
“It wasn’t as bad for me as it was for the men and women separated from each other and their kids. One woman clawed her face so bad when they took her son the guards killed her to make an example of her.”
“I’m so sorry,” Aisling said.
“It’s okay,” Darius said. “I’m young and strong and got no family to lose.”
Determined to change the conversation back to a less painful topic, Aisling wiped away her tears with the sleeve of her yellow dress.
“Where did you come from?”
“I lived my whole life at a sugar plantation down River Road.”
“You look so healthy. Shasa told me there’s no harder work than cutting cane under the hot Louisiana sun.”
“Shasa is right about that,” Darius said. “I was lucky and worked as a gardener. The mistress was looking for a gardener. That was part of the reason she bought me.”
“What’s the other reason?” Aisling asked.
“To sleep with her,” Darius said.
“Are you kidding?”
“Wish I was. That ugly woman makes my stomach turn worse than thinking about the slave pens on St. Charles.”
“Are you going to do it anyway?” she asked.
“I got no choice,” he said.
“You still haven’t looked at me,” Aisling said. Darius raised his head. “That didn’t kill you.”
“I’m not afraid of dying,” he said.
“Then what are you afraid of?”
“Getting beaten so bad you can’t walk. Hurting so bad you wished you was dead,” he said.
“You’ve never been beaten like that, have you?” Aisling asked.
“No, but I seen others who have. Grown men crying like babies.”
“Mama says it’s okay to cry.”
“No, it ain’t. No matter how bad you’re hurting, you can’t ever let them know,” he said. “My friend Kalifa taught me that.”
“Who is Kalifa?” Aisling asked.
“An old man I knew. Kalifa came straight from Africa. The overseers called him Zeke, but he was always Kalifa to me. He was the only father I ever knew. Kalifa said no matter how bad things get, you should keep your dignity.”
“What happened to Kalifa?” Aisling asked.
“The overseers made an example of him and cut off his hand with an ax. Didn’t matter none because he never changed expression. The overseers killed him for it.”
“I’m so sorry,” Aisling said.
“It’s not your fault. If I get tortured and killed, I want to leave this world with Kalifa’s dignity.”
“I would never hurt you for any reason,” Aisling said.
“I know you wouldn’t,” he said. “I’ve never seen hair or eyes like yours.”
“Red hair and blue eyes. Everyone says I look like my mama.”
Darius turned his gaze back toward the ground. “Guess I better get back to work,” he said.
“How old are you, Darius?”
“Don’t know,” he said.
“It’s just mama and me,” Aisling said. “We got nobody else.”
“You told me your mama is Mistress Lalaurie’s cousin.”
“That woman is evil,” Aisling said. “She treats us like dirt under her feet. Only reason she hasn’t got rid of us is it would make her look bad to her other Irish relatives.”
“I’m sorry,” Darius said.
“How many people are in your family?”
“Ain’t got no family,” Darius said.
“Where’s your mother?”
“We was separated when my brother and me was just kids.”
“You have a brother?” Aisling asked.
“Twin brother,” he said.
“Where is he?”
“Don’t know. The master sold him to another plantation.”
“When was the last time you saw your mother and brother?” Aisling said.
“When I was about knee-high,” he said.
“That’s so horrible,” Aisling said. “I don’t have a sister. If I did, I couldn’t imagine not ever being able to see her again. My mama is young and almost like my sister. If I were to lose her, I would die.”
“No, you wouldn’t,” Darius said. “You have to guard your feelings. Don’t ever get too close to anyone, cause you or they might get sold. You can’t make friends either because tomorrow you may never see them again.”
“You can’t think that way,” Aisling said. “I would kill myself if I lost my mama.”
“Life is cruel, but you can’t let it ever get the best of you. Right now, I better get back to work. Don’t want to wind up with scars all over my back.”
“I like you, Darius. You’re the only person my age I can talk to.”
“Don’t matter. You mustn’t talk to me. You’ll get us both in trouble.”
“I’m not going to worry about that. Will you be here tomorrow?” Aisling asked.
“The mistress said I’m the gardener now. I got the job long as I keep the place green and pretty.”
“I love this courtyard and come here every day. If I need to talk to you and someone is around such that I can’t, I’ll send you a message by Calpurnia.”
“How can you do that?” Darius asked.
“I told you she is smart. No one knows how smart except me. She understands what I say, and she can talk.”
“You sure?” Darius said.
“Want to see?”
“Yes.”
“Later on from now, tell her to find me. I’ll give her a message and send her back to you. You’ll see,” Aisling said. “Our friendship will be a secret between only you, me, and Calpurnia.”
Darius nodded, and then returned to hoeing the flowerbeds.
Chapter 31
Dr. Leonard Louis Nicolas Lalaurie stood at the window of his upstairs bedroom. Seeing him staring out at the courtyard below, his wife Madam Delphine Lalaurie walked over to see what he was looking at. As she reached the window, she saw the redheaded girl in a yellow dress disappear around the corner.
“You’d like nothing better than to bed that pretty young white girl, wouldn’t you?”
“You’re one to talk,” he said. “I saw the mulatto boy you bought yesterday at the market. I’m sure you have similar plans for him.”
“Don’t worry about what I do,” she said. “Except for her, I don’t give a tinker’s dam about whoever, or whatever you bed. That particular girl is a relative of mine, and it wouldn’t be proper. If word got out, I would lose face in the community.”
Dr. LaLaurie was two inches shorter and fifteen years younger than his wife, Delphine. Slight of frame, he looked as if he’d never done a hard day’s work in his life. Pomade slicked down his brown hair, short except for the pigtail tied with a black bow. His only impressive features were his extra-long fingers and delicate hands. They were all he needed to wield either whip or scalpel, and he was quite proficient at both.
Delphine Lalaurie’s black wig sat precariously over her graying hair. When she became angry or flustered, a common occurrence for a woman who rarely smiled, the wig would often become cocked on her head. Along with the excess rouge and lipstick she used, it imparted her with a
cartoonish look. Known for hosting lavish fetes, none of her guests ever mentioned Madam Lalaurie’s comic book appearance to her. Still, it didn’t keep the topic from being common knowledge around town.
“After our dinner with the governor tonight, I’m going to practice my surgical technique on one of the slaves,” Dr. Lalaurie said. “Will you join me?”
“You know I will,” she said. “There’s no one better in bed than you after you’ve performed with the scalpel. It gets you so hot.”
“You like cutting as much as I do,” he said. “Hot sex and skillful surgery are the two things we both have in common. Maybe that’s why I love you so much.”
“Just don’t ever cross me, or there will be part of your anatomy I will surgically remove,” she said.
Dr. Lalaurie grinned. “I also made a purchase at the market yesterday. The woman is in the cage in the garden, awaiting her appointment with us later tonight in the Dark Room.”
Madam Lalaurie left rouge and lipstick on Dr. Lalaurie’s face when she kissed him.
“I can’t wait, my darling,” she said. “Now, I must attend to the kitchen and make sure that black bitch Shasa is preparing the feast tonight for our important guests.”
Madam Lalaurie never went anywhere in the mansion without her whip. She had ten slaves to help her with the chores which needed doing around the large house. She kept more slaves than she needed because it was always a good thing to make an occasional example. A bullwhipping in the courtyard went a long way to strike fear in the hearts of her slaves. They were all expendable. All of them except for Shasa.
Shasa was the best cook in New Orleans. Her culinary creations were legend. No dinner party ever passed without at least one of the guests offering lots of money for the talented old woman. Delphine loved the accolades her lavish dinner parties always garnered but hated that Shasa was the star of the show, and not she.
One of the richest persons in all New Orleans, Delphine didn’t need any more money. Though she wallowed in the acclaim her cook had brought her, she hated the old woman for having power over her. Because of her hatred, she tortured Shasa every chance she could.