by Kira Saito
I stopped running long enough to catch my breath and smooth back the wild waves that had slipped out of my hood.
“Bade who am I supposed to say good-bye to?” I whispered while frantically scanning the market for a recognizable face.
“Cecile.”
I heard a faint voice call out my name and my blood froze but I forced myself to fight my way through a crowd of curious spectators.
“No!!!” I screamed as I fell to the filthy ground. “Antoine! No! What happened?” I asked, as I tried to frantically soak up the blood that was gushing from his chest with my cape.
“He challenged me, Cecile. He challenged me. Your protector accused me of trying to steal you away and…” Antoine’s voice was weak and frail and I knew he was dying. The spark behind his green eyes was slowly flickering into oblivion.
“No!” I was wild with rage and pure despair. “No, you’re not going to die!” That stupid cowardly ass! Who challenges a man who is unable to defend himself? A coward, that’s who. I forced back my tears and leapt up and grabbed a knife off of a nearby table from a vendor who was slicing cuts of beef. “Stay with me Antoine,” I begged. “Stay with me.”
A crowd of curious spectators gathered around as I cried out to Erzulie for help. “Erzulie please!” I begged. “Please help me help him.” I savagely stabbed my palms seven times and recited her chant:
Seven stabs of the knife, seven stabs of the dagger,
Lend me the basin so I can vomit my blood,
Seven stabs of the knife, seven stabs of the dagger,
Lend me the basin so I can vomit my blood,
My blood is pouring down
“Please stop,” Antoine whispered. “They’ll arrest you.”
“I don’t care.” I was a madwoman as I stabbed myself repeatedly and without mercy.
“Please stop my dear.” Erzulie whispered. “It’s too late for him. It’s too late. Let him go. He’s going to be free.” She stood over us in a flowing black silk dress. A black lace veil obscured her face and her lustrous hair billowed in the icy wind.
In anger and hopelessness I threw aside the knife and looked up at her in fury. “Free? Free? Only in death we’re allowed to be free, as if that’s some huge consolation! If we have to live like prisoners what’s the point of living at all!”
“Everything has its time and season, my dear. This too will pass. This bloodshed, violence, hatred will pass only if you all work together.”
I laughed bitterly at her words. “That doesn’t change what’s happening here and now!” I screamed.
“Then do something about it, my dear. Even the littlest and seemingly insignificant actions are one step closer to the progress you wish to see.”
What the hell did that mean? What was I supposed to do? At that moment I couldn’t think of a damn thing that would fix the atrocious world in which I lived. I held Antoine close to my chest. “I swear I’ll get him back for this! I promise you I’ll get vengeance for your death, Antoine.”
My mind was already racing with all of the tricks I could use to cause Edmond’s demise. I wasn’t sure which one I would use but I knew it would be slow, painful and very torturous. Something involving pins and snakes, as well as tiny insects that would eat him from the inside out.
“Cecile, I don’t want to be a martyr and my death doesn’t need vengeance. Please don’t sink to his level. You’re so much better than that.”
“I’m so sorry, mon ami. I’m so sorry. I should have accepted your proposal. It’s all my fault. It’s all my fault.” My words were muffled through my tears. “None of this would have happened. We could have moved to Paris together and you would have been the best lawyer in all of France. We could have had so much fun and you would have lived and…”
“Non,” he said softly. “None of this is your fault, and you shouldn’t have accepted my proposal. You would have only traded one lie for another.” He reached out and caressed my cheek. “Cecile, you cannot give up. You cannot settle for any less than you’re worth. Each and every one of us has a responsibility to stand against the wrong we see in the world. Everyone has the right to decency.”
“Even the heathens,” I said through tears.
A smile crossed his lips and I could feel him drift further and further away. “Even the heathens.”
“Antoine! Antoine! No!” He was gone. My infinitely handsome and snobby Antoine was gone in the blink of an eye, and nothing would ever bring him back or ease the colossal guilt that I felt.
“Antoine!” Madame Dupart’s screams were deafening as she ran through the crowd and towards her dead son.
Watching her hold him in her arms was unbearable, and I had to look away as she wildly wailed and mourned the death of the child she loved so dearly. I couldn’t think of a single comforting thing to say, so I simply held her and let her cry and cry until my cape was soaked with her tormented tears. Her wails were so wretched and wild that they pierced my heart to its very core. Eventually Monsieur Dupart arrived and unsuccessfully tried to calm her down.
Meanwhile the crowd of spectators had dispersed and life in the French Market went on as if nothing ever happened. As if a helpless man who had been legally unable to defend himself hadn’t just gotten brutally murdered out of petty jealousy and a lust for domination. Vendors went back to selling their products and customers sipped café from china cups while they looked upon Antoine’s dead body as if it were a piece of garbage.
It was at that moment it dawned upon me that the world around me was getting too comfortable with death and destruction. So comfortable that the very mystery and beauty of life no longer had any value.
“Cecile, what happened?” asked Monsieur Dupart.
I explained the whole situation to him and I could see the anger build behind his eyes because like me there was nothing he could do.
I glanced up and scanned the crowd for Edmond. I spotted him lingering in the corner casually sipping café from a china cup. He held a pistol in his other hand. The pistol he had used to kill Antoine as if he were some stray dog. He had watched the whole scene play out with sick delight and fascination. I lost all reason, composure and sense of where I was. I was a ball of rage as I marched up to him. “You ass! You disgust me!” I slapped him viciously across his face and relished the flash of surprise and slight shock that flashed through his eyes.
I felt a two beefy hands grip me from behind with such force that I was left breathless. Policemen.
“What do you think you’re doing?” One of them asked as his nails dug into my flesh.
I turned to face him and felt his anger burn into my skin. His mouth was a taunt line of disapproval and hate.
“Release her,” demanded Edmond. “I’m not going to press any charges. She’s been ill recently.”
I turned to face him. “Ill!”
“Yes,” he said calmly. “You’ve been terribly ill. Hopefully the death of your friend will teach you a lesson.” He gave me a small smirk, put his cup down and turned around. “I’ll see you at home, Cecile.”
Chapter Twenty
Marinette
The Streets of New Orleans
New Orleans, 1853
I walked around the city in a haze of hot rage, not knowing exactly where I was going or what I was going to do. Antoine’s body had been hauled away, and Monsieur and Madame Dupart, despite their devastation, were making funeral arrangements.
A heavy, bone-chilling rain had started to fall and the air had grown even cooler. Underneath my soaking cape my body was viciously trembling, but like a person possessed I could not stop walking. The day was quickly turning into night and as I stumbled through narrow alleys and muddy gutters, slowly the sights and sounds around me had begun to merge with one another. Soon I became immune to the rings of drunken laughter, the clatter of horse carts and the never-ending brawls that seemed to plague the city. Fat rats and cockroaches ran over my bare feet and although that sensation had been revolting at first it was now a form of self-
punishment that I openly welcomed.
I knew it was dangerous being alone at this time but I wasn’t afraid because the spirits were always walking with me. One in particular had attached herself to me and was whispering rather tempting plans of death and destruction into my ear.
“I can take care of him for you! Blood needs to be shed in order for a revolution to begin! And a revolution is needed right here and right now!” Marinette adamantly proclaimed. She furiously chugged gasoline from a glass bottle and recklessly waved her machete into the icy night air. Her bright orange dress with sunny yellow banana leaf patterns and dreadlocked hair decorated with tiny beads seemed out of place considering her aggressive personality.
I examined her fierce profile with its jutting chin and dark leathery skin, and couldn’t help but be consumed by her energy. As a human, Marinette had a been a powerful Voodoo Queen who had lived in Haiti. Horrified by the oppressive nature of slavery she had called upon Erzulie to help kick-start the Haitian Revolution that had overthrown the French oppressors and kicked them out of the country. Her courageous actions had been met with hostility and she had been burned alive. Now, she spent her time helping other Kings and Queens who needed help to fight against oppression.
“He’s on Rue Royale gambling; only this time he’s gambling with money instead of lives!” She turned to me with her eyes red and ablaze with an indestructible fire. “It won’t take much! One swift slice and it can be all over!” I ducked as she swung her machete from side to side. “I only ask for more gasoline!” She gave me a toothy smile as she rapidly drank some more of her gasoline.
“I don’t know if that’s such a great idea. He’s one of the most powerful men in the city.” Even though I was trying to talk myself out of this plan my feet continued to carry me closer and closer to the gambling dens on Rue Royale.
“Don’t be a scared little girl! Drink some gasoline and light the fire that is yearning to come out!” She tried to thrust the gasoline into my hands but I graciously declined. “There! He’s there!”
We stopped in front of an elegant, brightly-lit casino full of top hats, cigar smoke and adrenaline. Patrons sat around tables, clutching crystal glasses full of whiskey and absinthe while engaging in games of roulette, loto, and faro. The stench of power and money was overwhelming.
“Look how he’s sitting there pretending as if nothing is the matter! Drinking his whiskey and gambling. Hasn’t he gambled with your life enough? People like him love to gamble with lives because they have no respect for anyone or anything but themselves. ” Marinette whispered into my ear with her gasoline-tinged breath.
My body shook uncontrollably at the sight of Edmond’s smug face as it looked at the dealers in a patronizing manner, and I wanted nothing more than to send Marinette into the casino to lop off his head. I snuck past the doormen virtually unnoticed and was met with a thick cloud of cigar smoke as I stepped into the casino and closer and closer to Edmond. Refined faces looked upon me in annoyance as they took in the sight of my bare, filth-caked feet and drenched cape.
Marinette madly jumped on top of a table causing a gust of cards to swirl in the air and prompted a group of very confused patrons to jump back in defense. Her wild laugher and heated energy gave me the courage I needed to walk right up to Edmond without any thought of the repercussions of my actions. Marinette accompanied me and positioned herself behind Edmond with her machete lingering dangerously close to his thick neck.
He was too absorbed in his game to notice me and that gave me the advantage of surprise. I tapped him on the shoulder and he looked at me with glassy eyes. Clearly, he had drunk too much whiskey. His eyes narrowed as they rested on me, his lips parted slightly, and Marinette brought her blade closer and closer to his neck.
“What in God’s name are you doing here?” His tightly grabbed my wrist. It was painful to the point where I had to fight back tears of agony and embarrassment. I could see the probing eyes of patrons on us but not a single one of them gave notice to my silent pleas for help. And why should they have? I was his and they had no right to interrupt. “Wandering the streets, as if you’re some kind of forsaken prostitute while you’re under my protection! Have you no respect for yourself or for me?”
Fury, fear and loathing took a hold of me but I was determined not to let Edmond feed off of my emotions. “You killed him. You killed him. You killed him,” I said the words over and over again, finally absorbing the fact that Antoine was really gone. “You killed an innocent man. You’re a coward. Nothing but a coward. Only cowards challenge men who are unable to defend themselves!”
“He should have known his place,” Edmond smugly replied. His cold eyes didn’t hold an ounce of guilt or remorse for what he had done.
His arrogance drove me to madness and I was on the verge of asking Marinette to go through with the plan but some inexplicable force coming from deep within was robbing me of my courage to speak the words.
“You’re better than him. Don’t do it, Cecile!” I could hear Antoine’s voice of reason pleading with me in the distance not to go through with it.
“Say the word!” Marinette swiftly brought the blade closer and closer to his neck. Her ghastly laughter was so loud that it drowned out all other noise and drove the words closer to the tip of my tongue.
Edmond clumsily rose from his chair and took a hold of my other wrist. “You shouldn’t be wandering the streets, sweet Cecile. It’s far too dangerous. Let me take you home where it’s safe.” His lips fell onto mine I repressed waves of vomit as the stale stench of whiskey entered my mouth. I blocked out Antoine’s voice and was about to give Marinette my approval when someone interrupted us.
“Edmond, what are you doing?” Lucus grabbed Edmond by his shoulders and tore him away from me. “Have you gone mad? Can’t you see that you’re hurting her?”
Conflicting feelings of confusion and relief came over me at the sight of him.
Edmond desperately struggled to free himself from Lucus’ grip. “Let go of me, cousin! She’s my placée and I can do whatever I damn well want with her!”
Lucus tightened his grip, restraining Edmond who was thrashing and madly rebelling in an attempt to free himself. “You’ve had too much to drink, Edmond.” Lucus’ voice was low, composed and slightly threating. “Go home to Elizabeth. Go now.”
“I haven’t had too much to drink! Let go of me! I don’t want to go home to Elizabeth. I want to go home with my sweet Cecile.”
I tried not to vomit at the thought of going home with him.
“Say the words and I can kill them both!” Marinette offered as she danced around Lucus and Edmond, poking them ever so slightly with the sharp edge of her machete. “They’re both the same, are they not? Don’t be fooled by this one either.” She viciously tore off Lucus’ top hat and trampled on it with her bare feet while pouring gasoline on the top of his head.
Lucus shuddered as the foul-smelling liquid soaked him.
“No!” I shouted. “Don’t hurt him!”
“Do you hear her?” Edmond whispered. “She’s ill. She’s been suffering from that illness since the night of the opera and I’m only trying to help her. I’m trying to get rid of her disease. I think she picked it up from that savage- that slave! If I can only fix her.”
“Maybe you’re the savage, dear cousin,” Lucus said as he tightened his hold on Edmond. “Maybe you’re the one suffering from the illness.”
Edmond scoffed. “It sounds like you’re catching it too.”
“Say it, Cecile!” Marinette demanded. “I want to kill them both! They are exactly the same!” She spit in Edmond’s face and slapped Lucus across the face.
“No! I’ll give you all of the gasoline you want but you cannot hurt him!” I didn’t want to blame or judge Lucus based on the actions of his cousin, because that was a dangerous road to step onto.
I threw Lucus an apologetic look and he nodded as if he somehow understood what I was trying to say.
Marinette stopped a
nd took a step back. “Revolution needs blood!” she hissed. Her red eyes blazed with hunger.
“Maybe,” I agreed. “But not tonight,” I said softly, as I placed my arms around her and held her. “I know why you’re so fierce and can appreciate why you need to be this way. Your life was cruel and tough. Too much blood was shed in Haiti. I don’t want that same thing for my beautiful city,” I said pleadingly. It suddenly occurred to me that blind revenge wasn’t going to make me feel better, nor was it going to help anyone around me. As much as I loathed Edmond I couldn’t and wouldn’t allow myself to follow in his footsteps.
She released herself from my grip, stood in front of Edmond and looked at him in abhorrence before punching him so hard that he fell to the ground. He writhed in pain and I knew it was time for me to make my exit. “Thank you! I promise I won’t forget to leave gasoline for you!”
Marinette nodded and gave Edmond another kick in the groin before she disappeared. I turned around and ran out of the door, not wanting to stay in that casino a minute longer.
I was half-way down the murky street when I felt someone behind me. I picked up my pace, thinking that I was about to get mugged.
“Cecile! Wait!” Lucus’ breathless voice caught me off-guard, and I stopped dead in my tracks. Reeking of gasoline, whiskey, and cigar smoke, Lucus stood before me with a pained expression on his handsome face. “I’m so sorry.”
“You heard?” I whispered, half-surprised that he would even care.
He nodded. “He told me while we were gambling.”
The image of Edmond scoffing and bragging about killing Antoine as he leisurely sipped whiskey and gambled away a few thousand dollars was too much to take. “It is what it is.” As I said those words a chill gripped my hands, knees and throat. An unwelcome weakness caused me to drop to my knees, bury my head into my hands, and release a fresh flood of tears. “He didn’t deserve to die. He had his whole life ahead of him!”