The Secrets Amongst the Cypress

by Cradit, Sarah M.

  “We have to go.”

  “And you must. It’s not only the war but Maman… she knows something. She means you harm. I know it.”

  Amelia found she wasn’t surprised by the news, and even expected it. Every facet of their visit had come to a head in unison. If they wanted signs, they’d been given more than they could handle.

  “We must be quick,” Ophélie added.

  Amelia nodded and steered her further from the house, not wanting Jean or Brigitte to intercede as they had a way of doing. “Ophélie, I don’t know how to thank you.”

  “Thank me for what?”

  “For everything.” Amelia kissed the young girl’s forehead and watched her for a moment, seeing her own self, a different self, reflected back. “I would still take you with us if you’d let me.”

  Ophélie’s stare dropped to her feet. “Even if I had not already found my courage to stay, it isn’t possible. I know that now.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Her head shot back up. “Victor. Be wary of him, Amelia. There can exist only one Cianán at a time. While he once was Cianán, he is no longer, and he chose that path willingly.”

  “You’re talking about his immortality?”

  Ophélie laughed coldly. “So he told you of that, but not the whole of it? I suppose he knew you wouldn’t understand, as I didn’t. Alas, no, he is Cianán no longer, though he still possesses the memories and desires, by his words.”

  Amelia considered this. She had been curious about her bond to both Victor and Ophélie, but Jacob had only been drawn to Ophélie. Could it be the glimmer of Cianán still existed, but Jacob, deep down, knew better? “It was a lot to take in. I didn’t stop to think of how it would be possible for them to be alive together.”

  “For it is not! Victor chose to give up his destiny as Cianán when he took his immortal gift. But even had he lived to be a hundred and fifty, he would have lost that gift at the moment of Jacob’s birth.”

  Why had Victor kept this from her? He went on and on about how she needed Jacob to heal. Were all those pretty words a lie? A deception?

  “I know what’s in your head,” Ophélie said. “And you would do well to veer from that path. It matters not what Victor thinks or does not think. Not anymore. He’s a rogue descendant whose behavior is out of hand. He speaks of love when he has only deceived. The sooner you leave, the sooner you can free yourself of this complication.”

  Amelia stepped forward. “Why are you crying?”

  “He offered me the gift,” Ophélie answered, lowering her head in shame. “And I, a foolish girl, almost accepted.”

  “Anyone would consider it,” Amelia soothed. “Anyone. I can’t imagine many get that chance. I never have. No one can fault you for thinking it might be an option, especially with your future knowledge. And no one would judge you if you decided yet to do it.”

  Ophélie’s eyes opened in wide, hopeful arcs. “You think I should consider it?”

  “I don’t know,” Amelia said. “Only you can say. But your time will end soon, one way or another, Ophélie. Worse choices exist.”

  “You’re wrong, you know,” Ophélie said. “You can and have been offered immortality. As one of the four heirs, your gift for fulfilling the prophecy is everlasting life. For you and Jacob both, and the other two.”

  Amelia glanced away. “I guess I haven’t thought about that part very much.”

  “You should, and soon. What about the other words of the goddess?”

  “For now, I have to focus on returning to who I once was. I can’t be anything to anyone else until I do.”

  “Then your coming here was a triumph.” Ophélie squeezed her hand. “The goddess loves you, Amelia. She knows your heart.”

  “What about yours?”

  “Nothing matters until I release the soul of Cerridwen to you.”

  “Or free it upon accepting Victor’s gift?”

  “Unfortunately, I cannot.” Ophélie leaned into the broad trunk of a nearby oak. “If I do, all my suffering will have been for naught.”

  “I won’t try to persuade you one way or another,” Amelia said. “Only know that I love you, and you will stay with me, a part of me, the rest of my days.”

  “I am you,” Ophélie said with a small smile. “And that’s why I can’t accept the gift. I’ve seen who I will become, and I cannot imagine a more rewarding fate than being Amelia Deschanel.”

  Amelia watched Ophélie’s slight figure run in the direction of the Big House until it disappeared within. She had so much more to say, but words wouldn’t change anything for either of the women and to dwell on them would only make the result more difficult to bear.

  Ana, Finn, and their son had come for them, and it was time to return home, together.

  “You were going to leave without a goodbye?”

  Victor appeared from behind a nearby oak, his long, lean figure flowing into full focus as she turned toward the sound of his voice.

  Amelia jumped back several paces. “Dammit, Victor! Why are you always popping up out of nowhere, scaring the hell out of me?”

  “You didn’t answer my question.”

  “I thought it might be easier for both of us.”

  “Easier? Does that mean it pains you to leave me?”

  “Don’t put words in my mouth.” Amelia paced around him, eager to keep her distance. “And I know who you are. What I don’t get is why you left out that part of the story.”

  Victor appeared genuinely offended. “I did not lie to you.”

  “A lie by omission is still a lie. I’m a psychiatrist… an expert in detecting self-deception.”

  Victor attempted to follow the circle she cut around him, but stopped, confused at her tactic. “Amelia. I was born with the soul of Cianán. Whether it belongs to me still does not change that I have his memories—”

  “Yes, and his desires. I know.” Amelia rolled her eyes and chanced a quick glance back at the pigeonnier. If she didn’t return soon, Jacob would come for her, and he would not at all appreciate the way Victor looked at her now.

  “I made a foolish choice, but it does not alter who I am.”

  “It changes nothing, and it changes everything, and it doesn’t matter,” she cried. “I won’t let it.”

  “I would never hurt you,” Victor insisted, watching her dance around him. It was the easiest way to keep him from approaching her again. She didn’t want to be near the dhampir any longer. She wanted him gone.

  “Then let me go,” she replied, this time backing away from the trees and into the open. Victor wouldn’t engage her there, surely. Not where anyone could see. “Whether you are or aren’t Cianán now isn’t even the point. My path and yours don’t intersect. They were never meant to. You are not my Cianán, and if you really care about me, this will be the last time we talk.”

  A sharp, quick wind whipped through the air around her, and before she had a moment to comprehend the change, Victor was upon her. His lips pressed to hers in a brief, firm kiss. “Au revoir, mon cher.”

  How he had come to her so swiftly was a question immediately replaced by where he went. She whipped her neck around, searching for him, but he was well and truly gone.

  For now, his voice whispered, bouncing across the trees, echoing in her mind.

  XXXVII

  Are you not going to tell them, Kjære?

  What?

  Finnegan and Aleksandr. Will you not tell them of my resurrection, through you?

  Aidrik… Ana paused, glancing at her nervous husband and son. None of them wanted to be here. They sensed the inherent danger, not only in arriving in a time not their own, but in a hostile environment on the verge of significant change. The family of three had only ever seen the aftermath of the war. The adjusted South, rebuilt but neutered from its brief period of glory. To see it as it was now resembled looking at a ghost who didn’t know he was already dead.

  You lose yourself to thoughts to avoid my question.

  I’
m not avoiding you. I just don’t have the answer.

  You do. I won’t probe where I’m not invited. Tell me.

  I guess I’m cautious. Cautious only tickled the surface.

  You believe I am a hallucination?

  No, I know better. It’s not that.

  Then what, Anasofiya?

  This is just… well, everything is all so very new, Aidrik. First, Wraith, now you. What if something else changes? I don’t want anyone to get their hopes up, only to lose you twice. That would devastate Finn and Aleksei.

  And you?

  You know how I feel. But at this point, my hurt is inevitable, if things change. You’re back. I can’t undo that, and I wouldn’t, even if I could. But I need time. You, Aidrik, the creature who always played his cards close to the vest, should understand better than anyone.

  There are no rules. You created Wraith from your own darkness, and Wraith is now your weapon. Your ally. At the time of our evigbond, I became part of you. When I perished, that part of me lived on, in you. You are an etheric summoner. Only the second I have ever seen, in all my days. This power turned our evigbond into a physical manifestation, allowing me to be strong again.

  I get all that. But what if I can’t preserve it?

  You maintain without thinking about it, Kjære. Every day, I grow stronger. I may yet increase enough physically and mentally to exist separate from you, though my soul will always be tethered to yours.

  I’m just not ready. I’m afraid. Don’t you get that?

  Aye. I’ll leave it. But I ask you to consider believing in yourself, as I do. There are no limits for you. Your boundaries are invisible, and the power is undefined because none have ever been like you.

  You’re a hell of a lot more confident than I am about it.

  Aye. And as of now, you have more pressing matters. Word has reached Brigitte of the arrival of more uninvited guests. You have little time to waste.

  Ana had been so immersed in her private conversation that she didn’t see Amelia return, noticeably flustered with heavy, labored breathing. The sight brought Ana back to the present.

  She recognized the expression on Amelia’s face. It was one Amelia’s mother, Ana’s Aunt Colleen, had always advised the cousins to be on the alert for, much like observing a diabetic for a rise or drop in blood sugar. She’s a powerful empath. But she is in constant danger of being imperiled. This happens when she cannot separate her own emotion from those around her and inadvertently absorbs them. If you see her enter what we call the daze, you talk to her about a memory until she responds and snaps out of it. Recollections pull her away from the danger. They remind her of what’s real.

  Amelia had been put as risk recently and very nearly died for it.

  Jacob was at her side before she could hit the ground, his arms coming around her from behind. “Blanca, talk to me.”

  “Amelia.” Ana charged across the room. “Do you remember the summer Uncle Charles hired the jazz band to come to Ophélie for Adrienne’s birthday?” It wasn’t the best memory, but it was the first to pop into her head.

  Amelia’s eyes fluttered. Her head fell back against Jacob’s chest as she strained to see Ana through her fugue. “Awful.”

  “Mora, what’s happening to her?” Aleksandr cried, gaping at Jacob, who had silent tears running down his cheeks.

  “Shh, Aleksei.” Ana turned her focus back to her cousin. “Remember the young one, Mia? I was a junior, I think, so you must have been a sophomore. He was one of our ages. Probably someone’s kid or younger brother. He spent the whole time hitting on us both, do you remember?”

  Jacob pulled Amelia into a chair, kneeling at her side. He placed a hand behind her neck and kissed her cheek. His lips lingered there. “You told me this story once.”

  “He…” Amelia swallowed. Her head swayed in a small circle. Jacob was quick to steady her. Finn appeared at Amelia’s right, squatting to catch her from the other side. “Didn’t he hook up with Olivia?”

  Ana’s laugh was genuine. “Yes! And Aunt Maureen caught them. She still uses that to end an argument. ‘Your judgment is irrelevant, Olivia. You screwed that jazz kid back in the nineties.’”

  “Aunt Mo never has been…” Amelia heaved a large breath, pitching forward. “Never been very good at making a point.”

  Jacob whispered to his wife, his words too quiet to reach Ana’s ears. Ana remembered goofy Jacob from high school, with a mess of black hair and jokes for days. If he wasn’t making others laugh, he was fighting them, a strange mix of talents. Ana thought it interesting to see him now, grown into a man worthy of Amelia, and worthy of himself.

  She also saw within him another potential: friend to her husband, Finn. The two men were alike in ways, but their real bond would be borne from their shared experiences of starting life with one understanding of who they were, and transitioning to the next phase with a reality that would have been unbelievable to them in that first life.

  “Yes!” Ana giggled. It sounded strange to her. She had never been one to giggle. “And that was the last time Uncle Charles hired a band for any of his parties.”

  Amelia shrugged away the two men flanking her. She lifted her face to the sky and pulled in several short, powerful breaths. “I’m okay now. Thank you. All of you.”

  “What happened?” Finn asked.

  “Nothing that matters more than getting out of here as quickly as we can,” Amelia answered. She rose and stretched as if awakening from a long nap.

  “We should do this together,” Finn said. “Who knows if we will all end up where we should if we do it separately. And if we land in the wrong place, at least we’ll all be together.”

  “I agree,” Jacob answered. He was careful not to crowd Amelia, but stood several steps behind her, watching like a hawk. “I think that’s what we need to do from here on out.”

  “Stick together,” Ana repeated. “No matter what Aleksei decides, or whether or not the two of you ever have children, we were put in this situation for a reason. The goddess brought us all here, together. I still don’t get it, but I can’t deny it, either.”

  “We need to be in New Orleans,” Aleksandr added. “Don’t ask me to explain it, but I think our traveling is done. For now.”

  “The kid has a point,” Finn said. “If anyone disagrees, speak now or forever hold your peace.”

  No one disagreed.

  Amelia nodded. The returning color slowly blossomed into her face. “Let’s do this.”

  The five travelers drew together in a tight circle, with Jacob and Finn at the outer edge. Their hands linked on both sides as they came around their loved ones. Aleksandr, Ana, and Amelia wrapped their arms around the necks of the men and closed their eyes.

  “There’s no place like home,” Jacob whispered, and before anyone could laugh, their feet had left the ground.

  DAY

  EIGHT

  XXXVIII

  Amelia didn’t know if there was anywhere else in the world she felt more at home than her mother’s parlor at The Gardens. They’d spent their first night back at the Monteleone, exhausted and needing time to regroup, but the weight of returning to the present didn’t hit her until she stepped into the marble foyer of her childhood home.

  Colleen sat across from her. She watched with patient eyes, ready to dispense wisdom, mint julep in hand.

  Amelia’s father, Noah, and brother, Ashley, were in the other room. After they’d doted on her for an hour, she had asked to be alone with her mother. She needed to get some things off her chest before she lost the courage. Information she didn’t want her father and brother hearing.

  And so, while Jacob was off working on their house on Seventh and Coliseum, Amelia spent the afternoon laying out every last detail of the past weeks to her mother, beginning with their arrival on Quinlan lands and ending with the fivesome jumping back to the present. She didn’t leave out Victor. She didn’t leave out Baldur.

  Her mother’s emotions ran the expected gamut as Ameli
a found her words. From wonder to rage, from curiosity to fear. Colleen expressed these sentiments through her eyes, as the rest of her remained stoic and poised, as always.

  “Oh, darling,” she said when Amelia folded her hands across her lap and released a long breath. “My heart is broken for you, Amelia. I know you don’t want my sympathy. I understand that’s why you didn’t want Dad and Ashley to hear this, but I’m your mother before anything else, and I’m speechless. For once, I don’t have the words to make this better. If Jacob hadn’t killed Baldur, I would be on a plane today to finish the job myself.”

  “I don’t need words or more anger, I just needed you to know, Mom. It’s hard to talk about,” Amelia said in a hushed voice. She had never before heard her mother threaten violence against anyone, in any circumstance. “I think it always will be.”

  “I will not ever ask you to talk about it, my dear,” Colleen said, reaching forward to take Amelia’s hands in hers “But know I will always, always be here when you need to.”

  “I know, Mom.”

  Colleen released her and sat back. “Our family has suffered so much, and those of us still living continue to bear the greatest burden. I have to wonder when it will end.”

  “We all know the answer,” Amelia said. “But it’s so much easier said than done. I resigned myself to never being a mother, because of the Deschanel Curse, but now I’m being told becoming a mother is precisely how to end it.”

  “Prophecies are convenient ways of ignoring our own culpability in matters,” Colleen said, rising. “Excuse me a moment. I have something to show you that I believe will be of great interest.”

  She reappeared minutes later with a photo album, leather-bound in the blood red color of the Deschanels. On the front was embossed, in gold, a set of years, but Amelia didn’t catch them before her mother opened the book. Pursing her lips, Colleen flipped through the pages until she found what she wanted.

  “Ahh, here it is. Dear me, now that we’ve had this talk, I can’t see how I was able to so easily dismiss this.”