by Kira Saito
Lucus fell to his knees and took my hands away from my face and held me until I had run out of tears and my sobs were thin and sparse. He lightly ran his fingers over my closed lids and then down my tear-streaked face. “No. He didn’t deserve to die. My cousin can be irrational and extremely possessive. He had no right to take your friend’s life. Let me walk you home,” he offered.
Home. Where was home? Was it the prison where Edmond had kept me? For tonight it would have to do, because it was the one place I knew I would be safe from him. I nodded and allowed Lucus to wrap his arms around me and lead me down the cobbled streets, knowing very well the scandal it would cause.
Chapter Twenty-One
Monsieur Can Go to Hell
Cecile LaNuit’s Home, Rue de Rampart
New Orleans, 1853
“Ms. Cecile! What in heaven’s name has gotten into you?” Justine opened the door and crossed herself when she saw the horrid state I was in. She immediately shut up when she saw Lucus and eyed me suspiciously. “Monsieur isn’t going to be happy,” she said disapprovingly.
“Monsieur can go to hell!” I hissed bitterly.
“I should go.” Lucus took a step backwards, clearly impacted by Justine’s disapproving glare.
I turned to face him and for the first time in a long time I no longer cared whether I was being appropriate. “I know it’s not appropriate, and the whole city will talk about us and my reputation will be ruined, but it’s already a little too late. So please, I insist, stay for a drink and some gris-gris, my Dinclusin,” I teased. I had to make Lucus a protective charm in case Edmond got it in his head that he would challenge Lucus to a duel as well. “Unless, of course, you’re afraid that people will classify you as being ruined as well.”
Lucus smiled genuinely and the horrors of the day seemed to be a distant dream. “How can I say no to my Chalotte?” He placed his hand over his chest dramatically and stepped inside.
I lead him to the parlor where Justine had already lit the long row of candles that rested on the space above the fireplace and had replaced the rotting red flowers with a fresh bouquet.
“You’re free to use the bathroom if you want to clean up,” I said quietly as it occurred to me that we were alone and I was a bundle of nerves. I had no idea why.
“Thank you,” he said.
“You’re welcome.” My hands shook as I reached out and yanked out a strand of his hair. “For the gris-gris,” I explained.
He nodded. “Of course.”
After we had both cleaned up I remembered to leave offerings of gasoline for Marinette. Afterwards, I lit several white candles and anointed them with Fiery Wall of Protection Oil and sat in my bedroom and made a protective gris-gris for Lucus. He patiently sat on my bed and watched as I mixed together the various ingredients and placed them into a tiny sack cloth which I attached to a string.
“You have to keep this on you at all times,” I warned, as I tied the charm onto his wrist.
“And why is that?” he asked, as he raised his left eyebrow and eyed the tiny charm in mock suspicion.
I glanced at him and then quickly looked down, hoping he wouldn’t notice that my face was flustered. “No reason.”
There was a brief silence between us. His hand lightly cupped my chin and I looked up at him. “I’m sorry for what my cousin has done. I wish I could make it all better somehow. Wipe away all of the pain.” The candlelight illuminated the sincerity behind his eyes and something deep within me told me that one day all of this ugliness would disappear. That somehow everything would get better. It had to.
“It’s not your fault. You’re not responsible for anyone’s actions but your own, and I refuse to let you get in the middle of any of this. So please, no duels.”
“But…”
“No buts, or I will send a machete-waving gasoline-drinking spirit after you.”
He laughed and pulled me close to him. I leaned against his chest and savored his gasoline-tinged scent. I felt safe in his embrace, despite my experience with his cousin. Lucus ran his fingers through my wet hair and I felt my eyes closing and the sweet seductive call of sleep beckoning me. How long had it been since I had slept? I wasn’t sure. But I didn’t want to sleep. I wanted to talk about Antoine.
“You would have loved him,” I whispered. “You would have loved Antoine. He was so snobby but so smart and kind. He knew the words to every single opera ever preformed at the opera house. He despised oranges with an unhealthy passion and believed that everyone had the right to a decent life.”
“Why did he despise oranges with an unhealthy passion?”
I laughed. “Just because. He was funny like that. He had very specific reasons and explanations for most things in life, except oranges. ”
“What do you despise with an unhealthy passion?” he asked.
I took a thoughtful pause and was tempted to say Edmond. “Feeling powerless. You?”
“Feeling hopeless.” There was a moment of silence and I melted deeper into him. “How many spirits are there?” he asked.
“Thousands and thousands…”
“Why are there so many?”
“Because there are so many people in the world. The spirits are a reflection of us. We’re all different. Do you think I’m silly?” I asked randomly. “Do you think I’m silly for believing things that most people can’t see? Most people think I am.”
“No. How can you feel and not believe? If you’re silly then so are all those people who religiously attend Sunday-morning mass. ”
“Do you feel them?”
“Yes.”
“When?”
He took a thoughtful pause. “When I try to paint or when I take a walk through the city. When I glance up at the stars or feel the wind through my hair. When I drink too much whiskey… And most of all at moments like these.”
A small smile crept up on my face. “Moments like these?”
He nodded. “Moments like these.”
“Thank you,” I whispered. “Thank you for being here.”
“La vie est belle, Chalotte.”
“La vie est belle, Dinclusin.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Scandal on Rue de Rampart
Madame LaNuit’s Home, Rue de Rampart
New Orleans, 1853
Maman stiffly sipped her café au lait as she stared at me in blatant disapproval and shame. I could smell her anger and knew she was on the verge of tears, but she looked stunning. Her hair was swept up in a severe bun and she was exquisitely dressed in a gown made out of pale satin and Parisian lace. Tiny pearl earrings decorated her ears and the spicy and aromatic smell of her expensive perfume filled the room.
“Do you know what you’ve done?”
“Yes,” I said. When I had woken up this morning Lucus had already left and I had decided to tell Maman that under no circumstances would I ever see Edmond again. I no longer wanted to live in the home he had given me nor did I want to keep any of the gifts he had presented me with. I wanted to move back in with her and find a way that would allow me to support myself.
“Emilie!” She screamed. “This café is cold!” She ignored my response and began her daily crusade against Emilie.
Emilie walked in with her head low and lips trembling. I could feel her nervous energy as her hands shook. Her blue eyes were watery but not a single tear fell onto her soft cheeks.
“Maman.” I tried to get her back on topic.
Emilie was so nervous that she accidently knocked over the cup of café au lait as she reached for it.
Maman rose from her chair. “Emilie! You clumsy fool! You’ve ruined the new carpet! Why do I keep you? Why? I probably do so out of pity because I know if I sold you back into the market no one would be stupid enough to buy you!”
Her lack of humanity and compassion was revolting and I could no longer keep my mouth shut. I stood up. “Emilie, it’s okay, I’ll clean it.”
“You’ll do no such thing! What’s gotten into you?” Her eye
s rested on me. She studied me carefully and I could sense her disgust as she took in the sight of my cotton dress and loose waves. I no longer had the desire to wear any of the dresses Edmond had bought for me, so I had had a seamstress make me a few simple dresses which were way more functional.
Emilie looked from Maman to me, unsure of what to say or do. I motioned for her to leave before Maman started screaming at her again. She left and the air in the room became silent and I knew I had to stand up for myself once and for all.
“Maman, did you hear what I said? I no longer want Edmond’s protection. He’s cruel and he killed Antoine. He KILLED Antoine!”
Her delicate face convulsed, her eyes widened and her thin lips spread out in a hard, disapproving line. “Antoine should have known his place,” she said quietly.
“Known his place!” I screamed. “Known his place!” I couldn’t believe she was defending Edmond. “Is that all you have to say? You’re friends with the Duparts! Is that what you’re going to say to them at the funeral? He should have known his place!”
“Yes, Cecile, he should have known his place and you should learn to accept yours as well.” She was eerily calm as she stepped closer to me. “The whole neighborhood is talking about you and the visitor you had over last night. Have you no self-respect? Have you no appreciation for all that Monsieur Edmond has done for you? You’re freely giving yourself to his cousin.” She stepped closer and closer and with every step her voice became lower and lower. “Can you not see the shame and humiliation that you’ve brought on yourself and on me? Allowing his cousin into your home? Weeping in the streets over Antoine. Dancing like a savage and running around without your protector. You’re a disgrace. Have you no shame?”
I took a step back. “No. I see no shame in trying to defend myself. And I’m not freely giving myself to anyone. Nothing happened.”
“’Defend youself’? Don’t be a ridiculous spoiled child. You cannot defend yourself. Have you forgotten who we are? Monsieur Edmond came over this morning and was kind enough to assure me that despite your unacceptable behavior he still wants to be your protector.”
“But…” I desperately wanted her to see my point of view; to somehow show her that no longer having Edmond’s protection wouldn’t mean the end for me. I closed my eyes and said the words again, hoping that maybe this time she would understand. “I cannot and will not be his placée. Can’t you see what he’s done to me? Can’t you see that he’s taken all that I can give? You’re supposed to be my Maman. You’re supposed to protect me.”
I felt her thin fingers take hold of my hair. My eyes snapped open as her delicate hand slapped me across the face with such force that it set my cheek ablaze.
“Let go of me!” I tried to free her hand from my hair but the more I struggled the tighter her hold became.
“Know your place, Cecile. I’m begging you.” Her tears started and her attempt at composure evaporated. “Know your place!” She slapped me repeatedly until my cheeks became swollen and numb. Tears of pain, frustration, and mortification ran down my face and shock left me paralyzed. “I am trying to protect you but you’re not making it easy! Do you know how dangerous it is out there? Do you understand what is about to happen to us? Rumors of war are everywhere! Do you have any idea what that will mean for us? Do you think those Yankees will show us any compassion? Any mercy? To them we’re no better than the common slave! Do you think they see beyond the color of our skin? ” Her shrieks became deafening. “We’re going to lose EVERYTHING if we’re not careful! All that we’ve worked so hard for!”
Unable to take the screams any longer I forced myself to move and pushed her backwards which temporarily disorientated her. “I know rumors of war are everywhere. The whole city knows, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to live in fear like you, Maman. We can’t live in fear. We have to stand up for ourselves every day and in every way we can,” I said, channeling Antoine. “Each and every one has the right to life, not only people like Edmond.”
“Why won’t you listen! Why can’t you just listen, you spoiled ungrateful child!” she hollered through wild sobs. “Why can’t you understand that the world is what is it and we have to accept that?”
“I can’t live a life based on lies. Why can’t you understand that? Can’t you respect that? I’m losing my very soul.”
She closed her eyes. “You don’t have the luxury to choose what kind of life you want to live, why can’t you understand that, Cecile? Why do you refuse to understand?”
“Because I don’t believe that’s true. I don’t believe I’m supposed to live life like a prisoner. What is the point of being free in name only? What’s purpose of living under an illusion regardless of how beautifully constructed it is?”
Her eyes snapped open. “You’re flawed, Cecile. You’re lucky you’re beautiful because otherwise you wouldn’t have a chance in this world.”
“Flawed?”
“You think and feel too much. Your emotions are going to lead to your downfall.”
I laughed. “Think and feel too much? I think and feel too much? That’s a flaw?”
“Yes.”
“No. It’s people like you who don’t think and feel enough. You sit around and pretend that everything is okay. You force smiles and look the other way when you see the slave coffles on the street or the starving Irishmen on the corners, because it makes you uncomfortable. You sip your champagne, wear your fancy Parisian dresses, yet you loathe what you see in mirror because you’re not happy. By not thinking and feeling you add to the problem by feeding the very lies that keep this sick system running. How can you stand there and tell me that I think and feel too much?” I was out of breath by the time I finished my rant.
“Emilie!” she screamed. “Emilie, get in here right now!”
“Why are you bringing her into this? This is between you and me.”
Emilie stumbled in the room with her head hung low. She furiously cracked her knuckles and when she spoke her voice was faint and frightened. “Madame.”
Maman viciously grabbed Emilie’s tignon and yanked it, along with a fistful of Emilie’s hair. “Do you want to be like her?” she asked.
“Maman, let go of her!”
“Do you want to be like her? Do you?” she asked again. “Do you?”
Bitter tears streamed down Emilie’s face as she tried to free herself from Maman’s grasp. She glanced at me desperately. Her eyes met mine fully for the first time, begging for help.
“Maman, I’m asking you let go of her!”
“Don’t think you’re any different. Don’t think this can’t be you! This is you!” she sneered as she roughly let go of Emilie.
I froze at her words. “What do you mean? What are you saying?”
She stared at me silently through glossy, tear-filled eyes.
I looked at Emilie carefully for the first time ever and something both remarkable and completely terrifying happened. I saw myself. I saw the shape of my eyes and the slant of my nose and the slightly round, soft cheeks I secretly despised. “Mon Dieu… She’s my sister, isn’t she? And you’ve known all along, yet you…” The words wouldn’t come out.
“Stop. Please stop, Cecile. I don’t need your judgment. Where would she have gone? To the pen? Your Papa gave her to me after her Maman died. She’s lucky I was kind enough to take her in. Dieu knows his white wife couldn’t stand the sight of her around the home. Her life could have turned out much worse.”
I glanced at Emilie, who was trembling and shaking violently.
“Kind? Kind? You think you’ve been kind to her?” I asked incredulously, trying to understand the reasoning behind her words. I was horror-filled as I realized that the life I lived was one full of contradictions and twisted truths.
“Yes. I’ve been very kind. Others have it far worse.”
“Now I know why you’ve been so cruel to her all of these years. You despise her because you can’t stand the fact that you’re not special. You HATE the fact that she
reminds you of Papa and the fact that he has many other MISTRESSES- both slave and supposedly free!”
She let out a huge sigh and pointed to the door. “Get out! Get out! Get out! Go back home! This isn’t your home! You’re no longer welcome here! Either go back to the home Edmond provided you with or live on the streets! You are no longer my problem! I’ve tried and I’ve tried to help you see the light, Cecile, but it’s not working. Nothing seems to get through to you! Get out! Get out!” Her voice was hoarse through her sobs. “You’re a disgrace.” She fell to her knees and held her head in her hands. “I don’t know where I went wrong with you.”
“Fine, Maman! Have it your way!” My temples madly throbbed and my cheeks ached but none of it mattered. All that mattered was I had set myself free. I ran out of the parlor and towards the front door. I no longer cared about what she thought or making sure her reputation was left untarnished. I was half-way out the door when I heard Emilie’s desperate voice.
“Please take me with you,” she said softly.
I turned around and really looked at my sister for the first time in my entire life.
Her eyes were wide and pleading and her lips quivered in fear. I saw myself in her. I could have been her. “I can’t stay here any longer either. Please help me.”
I extended my hand for her to take. I knew there was no way I could leave her even though I was unsure of where I was going or how we would survive.
She eyed my hand as if it were some foreign object. “It’s okay,” I said.
Her hand fell into mine and together we ran down the street, not caring if we had no idea where we were headed or how we would get there.
“You’ve done it, Cecile! You’ve done it! Now embrace your position as Voodoo Queen and fill the hearts and minds of the people with spirit!” Bade whispered.
“Where do I start?” I asked.
“Your Tante. Go to your Tante Celeste’s home and start there! There are hundreds of desperate, spiritless people who flock to her for help. Help those who are too weak and scared to help themselves!”