by Tanai Walker
She turned to me. “What Juliette shared with you, all she shared, she gives because she believes in the wisdom we protect. She is in her way preparing you for the mantle your aunt wants to appoint you.”
“What mantle?” I took a tentative step forward. I wanted to understand why Juliette would show me such tenderness, a girl she hardly knew.
“That is not for me to reveal,” Sophie said, her eyes glowing in the gathering darkness. “Just go to her before the poor girl worries herself to death.”
She pointed toward the stables, and I ran. The lawn passed beneath me with more ease than I remembered. I had never been much of an athlete, yet there I was, sprinting effortlessly to the stable where I found Juliette in front of Abatos’s stall petting his nose.
“Tinsley,” she said breathlessly when she saw me.
“Hey,” I said.
She ran to me and hugged me around the neck. I opened my mouth to apologize to her, but instead, I lowered my head and planted my lips on the side of her neck. The gesture, so unfamiliar to me, turned out to be more rewarding than an apology. Juliette pulled me closer, and by the time we left the stables, darkness had long settled.
Chapter Nine
Juliette met us on the front lawn of Salacia. In the daylight, the unscarred portion of her face looked as smooth as a woman ten years younger. The scars on the left side of her face were a few shades lighter than her ebony skin. I wondered how she passed them off to people. It certainly looked like an animal attack. Her hair hung loose in what seemed to be endless black curls, just as they did when we were kids. She and Sandra greeted each other fondly, which sent burning-hot waves of jealousy through me.
“Hello, Tinsley,” she said, her large dark eyes glinting in the sun. “I trust you didn’t tell your goddess too much last night.”
I narrowed my eyes at her. “She’s a helpless girl,” I said. “She’s more afraid of the Sisterhood than anything.”
Sandra edged forward out of my periphery. “She says she wants Tinsley’s protection.”
Juliette’s eyes never left me. “What she wants is to be joined with the beast and return to the underworld.”
“That’s where the trouble comes in,” Sandra said. “Once the gates are open, your little friend won’t be able to close them behind her.”
“As if she would,” Juliette spat. “The Lost Goddess is not to be trusted.”
I glanced up at the house. The roof was in a bad way, and the paint on the columns peeled under layers of dirt and the heat of the Texas sun. The grass stayed trim, but there were no flowers, not like in the old days. No roaming peacocks. No smell of horses.
I turned to Sandra and took her hand, making it my point to ignore Juliette.
“I’ll show you around.”
We climbed the creaking front steps, and I searched for the proper keys to open the door. Sandra rang the doorbell and we heard the chime from inside.
“It’s lovely,” she said.
“It’s a wreck,” I said as the door swung open. The house was remarkably stuffy, but not stifling. I typed in the code on the pad to disarm the alarm. I opened windows and flicked on the ceiling fans.
“No AC?” Sandra asked. “Charming.”
“See?” I asked.
I took my time, undraping a few of the antiques to show Sandra. We passed through to the library, and I showed her the copy of the De Sade novel where I had found Leda. She decided to share the little gem of information with Juliette.
“An actual picture?” she asked and swore in French. “And she looks exactly the same today?”
“Yes,” I answered reluctantly. “Uncle Charles knew her. He said she was an innocent.”
“You don’t believe that, do you?” Juliette asked.
“I haven’t thought about it,” I said, moving to the old Victrola.
“She comes back young and beautiful each time,” Juliette said, a bitterness in her voice. “This is how she draws people in, so that she may win their adoration. It is her sustenance while she plots her escape.”
I thought of the people at the party and how they watched our every move together.
“So the Sisterhood has just been keeping the world from certain doom all this time?” I asked. “I suppose they get nothing from holding a goddess ransom.”
Juliette laughed bitterly. “She certainly has you.”
“No one has me,” I said. My glance strayed to Sandra, who looked doubtful. I played with the red string of Milagros around my wrist.
“Let’s go to the ballroom,” Juliette said.
I extended my hand and the ring of keys. “It’s all yours. I’m not going in there.”
“What I need to show you is in there,” Juliette said. “It’s just a room, Tinsley.”
I turned to Sandra. “It’s the room where they locked me as the beast, where I had to lock myself every seven years after that.” My breathing came fast, and the lack of AC in the old house was suddenly too much.
“After I built my own house and my secret room, I swore I would never go back.”
She took my hand. “I’m here with you now.”
I directed my stare to Juliette, a challenge for her to contradict what I was going to say next.
“She betrayed me once. She was the bright gem, the candy my aunt Quinn used to lure me in, and she knew exactly what they were using her for.”
Juliette took a step forward and snatched the keys from my hand. “I was just as innocent as you, Tinsley. I thought you had it in you to one day lead the Sisterhood. Instead you betrayed us.”
“Oh really?” I asked. “And how was that?”
“You knew what would happen when you told your father about us,” Juliette said. “You knew he would call the authorities. You told them the awful stories they wanted to hear, but nothing too fantastic. You didn’t tell them about the beast, of course. Who would believe a story like that? Wouldn’t want Daddy to think you’d lost it.”
My fury faltered. How dare she turn this around on me? I was the one who had been wronged back in ’83. At least Juliette had a choice about living a normal life. What choice did I have with that horrific cycle hanging over my head?
Juliette reached out and hooked a hand on my shoulder. I moved away. Sandra stepped in between us, and for a second, I hated them both.
“You ruined the Sisterhood.” Juliette’s face contorted with anger; the eye on the scarred side glowered fiercely. “I believe the Lost Goddess had her claws in you somehow, even then.”
“I’m done,” I said. “I should have known I would be caught in a bullshit barrage. I don’t even know why I came here.”
I stomped out into the hallway. “Keep the keys. You and the whole Sisterhood can have this damned place.”
I ran out to the porch, Sandra on my heels, calling my name. She grabbed the back of my shirt and I turned to her.
“Can you believe her?” I asked. “I’m the bad guy because I stood up for myself all those years ago, because I spoke out.”
“You didn’t give them a chance,” Sandra whispered.
“She helped them get what they wanted out of me and then she was gone,” I said. “She could have come back for me when she was older. She chose them and she still is.”
“You were in love with her,” Sandra said. “She was your first love, and your aunt promised you the world with Juliette at your side.”
“I was a stupid, stupid kid, that’s what.” I plopped down on the front steps.
Sandra sat next to me. She rested her head on my shoulder. “A kid with a lot of power, and as innocent as you want everyone to think. You got your revenge on the Sisterhood.”
“They cursed me, and I hurt Juliette,” I said.
“Is that what you’re feeling, Tinsley?” Sandra asked. “Guilt?”
“No,” I lied, thinking of my mother, of Quinn and Juliette.
“Finish your story,” Sandra said.
I glanced back toward the house. Juliette had not joined us, and I
guessed that she was digging around the ballroom, behind those massive doors in the wood-paneled chapel.
I turned back to Sandra.
“A week after Juliette and Sophie arrived, the other Sisterhood members began to show up here at Salacia.”
They came from all over the world―doctors, artists, business owners, and women like Aunt Quinn, born into money and prestige. There were twenty-four members of the Sisterhood in total, and they spoke in a babble of languages, and accented English. Most of them were elderly or middle-aged, which explained why they mistrusted Juliette and me. They were introduced with titles like Sister of Ember and Sister of Fire. They called Aunt Quinn Sister of Ash, and she was the only one with that name. She was their leader.
They were courteous to me, like grown-ups are to children. There was a chill though to their niceties. Juliette had prepared me for their indifferent reception. She knew many of them already and never let me forget a name or title. There were seven different levels of the Sisterhood. Everything was in seven. They met only every seven years, on the seventh month, for seven days.
Juliette made a nice distraction. We rode down to the beach in the Buick late at night. We talked of living together in Europe when we were old enough. I began to wonder if my grown-up fantasy was not so far-fetched with Juliette in my life.
One morning before dawn, my aunt woke me and instructed me to wake Juliette and for us to dress and meet her downstairs.
“What is it?” I asked, but she was gone out the door.
I woke Juliette and told her something weird was going on.
Downstairs, the Sisterhood waited in the foyer and beyond the open door, on the porch. They began to file out of the house. I saw Aunt Quinn and went to ask her exactly what was going on. She saw me coming and put a finger to her lips. I turned to Juliette, who did the same.
We all walked across the dew-soaked front lawn and down the driveway, the older women setting the pace. We walked down the road and down the main boulevard. The sun was rising, and the townspeople were beginning to stir. They stared at us and pointed, but none of them said a word, and neither did we. I felt my cheeks burn at the scrutiny. Our solemn parade of women continued down our silent route. I looked to my aunt in an effort to try to read her, but she returned her own flat stare as if the little hike were my idea.
We came upon two lines of tall palms framing a tar-paved drive. A sign announced the Palm and Oak Cemetery, founded in 1825. An old man opened the gate and nodded. We passed through and trudged up the gravel of the main path. Cement paths divided the cemetery into smaller plots, dotted with hundreds of tiny yellow wildflowers and studded with headstones. We diverged from the main path and headed for the back of the cemetery to the mausoleums.
We passed clusters of dilapidated, broken headstones and leaning monuments stained by decades of weathering. An angel that had fallen off the top of its monument had been set up to lean casually on the stone. First, we came upon mausoleums buried when the city was leveled during the great hurricane of 1900. Only their domed peaked tops showed through the sparse grass.
Our trek ended beneath an old sprawling oak, its branches spread out in welcome. This plot was well kept, and a purple-flowered vine crawled over the east side of the mausoleum. An entablature over the door was held up by one pillar and one stone angel, her wings carved into a multitude of jagged feathers that wreathed her entire body. The plaque above the entablature read Tinsley.
Aunt Quinn walked up to the door and touched it. She turned.
“Here lies our sister Alexandrine D’Orleans, who rediscovered the mysteries of the sacred fire and brought them here to this shore. We must never forget the sacrifices she and the very first of the Sisterhood made so that we can stand here today.”
“By the light of the sacred fire,” Sophie shouted.
The others repeated the phrase, and I shivered recalling the dream of the burning woman and the serene look on her face. Curious about the crypt, I broke from the group and walked around to the side of the small building. On the sides, I noticed peaked windows filled with four panes of red-colored glass too rough and thick to see through. The windows were no more than a foot high and narrow, clearly for decorative purposes.
I ran my fingers over the glass. As I did, my eyes caught a shadow as if there were movement on the other side. I gasped and pulled away. I turned to see that Juliette stood behind me.
“You scared me,” I said.
“What?” she asked.
I laughed at my own jumpiness. “When you passed around the building, it made a shadow on the glass.”
I pointed to the small window, and on glancing down, saw a large eye staring back, surrounded by fur. The glass was suddenly smooth and seemed as thin as the film on 3-D glasses.
This time, I shrieked and stepped back, holding my arm out to keep Juliette away.
“There’s some animal in there,” I gasped.
“What?” Juliette asked and took a step forward. “I don’t see anything, Tinsley.”
I looked back at the glass. It was as opaque as the first time I noticed it.
Aunt Quinn walked around the building, a few of the others trailing behind her. She saw my face and asked me what I had seen.
“Nothing,” I said.
“She said there is an animal in there,” Juliette said, and I could have died there on the spot.
Quinn studied me for a few seconds. “What sort of animal?”
I shook my head. “It was nothing, the sun, and Juliette walking behind me.”
Juliette looked to my aunt. “I did not walk behind her.” She crossed the distance between us and took hold of my hand. “Tell her what you saw.”
“A dog,” I said. “Someone has put a dog in there.”
It was Quinn’s turn to shake her head. The others had come to gather around the window. Some of them stared at me in what I figured was open disbelief. I made my escape around the back. Juliette followed.
“Now everyone is going to think I’m loony,” I whispered to her harshly.
“No, they won’t,” she said. “This mausoleum is sacred to the Sisterhood. It is where Alexandrine rests and waits.”
“Like she’s still alive or something?” I said.
Juliette shushed me. A few of the Sisters had wandered around the back. They eyed the two of us closely, obviously scandalized. Juliette took my hand and led me to an oak tree.
“I’m not sure what exactly, but Sophie says that one day if it’s necessary, one of the Sisterhood will go inside and talk to Alexandrine,” she said.
I laughed. “Do you know how crazy that sounds?”
“Not as crazy as a man coming back to life after three days, or saving the earth from a flood,” she said.
“It’s not the same,” I said. “Millions of people believe that shit. It’s accepted worldwide, not just by twenty-eight broads in Galveston, Texas.”
Juliette frowned. “You must not treat this as a game, Tinsley. If you appear to truly not believe, it could mean trouble for Quinn. You are the last of your line.”
I gestured to the mausoleum and the gathered Sisterhood. “They don’t treat me like the last of anything.”
“Because you don’t act like it,” Juliette snapped. “This is summer vacation for you, but for them it is life.”
She turned and walked away, leaving me under the oak, alone. I sulked there until Quinn came and embraced me.
“You’ll know what to do when the time is right.”
I sulked in the library with the door locked. I didn’t care about what the Sisterhood or Juliette or Sophie would think. As far as I was concerned, they could all go to hell. Lola brought me lunch, and later, she brought me clothes for dinner. She didn’t have to tell me that I was required to go. This was the sixth night, and very important according to Juliette. Sophie had taken us into town the day before so I could get new clothes. I decided to dress like the boys from school and choose light blue trousers, a pink shirt, and a bow tie, of all t
hings. I sighed when I thought of the very grown-up dress Juliette had picked for the occasion. Even Sophie admitted that we looked gorgeous together.
I put the clothes on and slunk downstairs. Nearly all of the Sisterhood was gathered at the great table when I arrived. The dining room was in its full glory, the chandelier lit, the silver and crystal shining. I imagined the Tinsleys there instead of the strange mix of women in various periods of time―Christmas dinners, and birthdays, Easter Sundays.
Juliette sat demurely quiet as the grown-ups chatted. Her dress was a shimmery blue, and her hair was twisted back into an ebony braid. I said good evening to the women as I passed and sat next to her.
“Hi,” I said.
She greeted me curtly in French. She would hardly look me in the eye.
“You’re angry with me,” I whispered.
“Tonight is very important,” she whispered back. “Certain members of the Sisterhood will try to convince Quinn to pass her duties as Sister of Ash to another.”
“Why?”
Juliette finally looked at me. “Because there is more than one of us, because we are all human beings. That’s why.”
“What can I do?”
“Whatever Quinn asks of you,” she said.
The rest of them entered and sat. Aunt Quinn, at the head of the table, stood to make a toast. She wore a flowing white dress that fell off her shoulders. Her hair she had twisted and pulled up into a reddish-gold crown around her head. Next to her sat Sophie dressed in black. She regarded me from the far side of the large room with tense, dark eyes.
“Tonight,” Quinn said. “I formally welcome my progeny, Sister of Flame, Tinsley Swan. Unlike young Juliette, I initiated her myself, and I know this has caused a lot of confusion―”
A middle-aged woman in a full tuxedo cleared her throat loudly and spoke. “It is not confusion we feel, but dismay that you would shirk tradition and show favor to your blood.”
Quinn tilted her head and gave a cold smile. “My dear Sister of Ember, has my bloodline always kept the Sisterhood afloat, sacrificed to keep its wisdom safe?”
Another woman spoke. She was elderly, her hair like wispy cobwebs escaped from a teal-colored turban she wore on her head with a large jewel in the middle of her forehead.