“Would you like some tea?” Celeste asked as she sat down.
“No, thank you. I do need to get back to work, Miss Mugabe.”
“It’s Dubois… Celeste Dubois.”
“Dubois? I thought your last name was Mugabe.”
“Mugabe is also a family name. My brother preferred to go by Mugabe. He never cared to be called Jean-Claude.” She chuckled.
There were a lot of people of African descent with that surname all over the world she told herself. Still, it was an intriguing coincidence.
“That is a curious expression, Miss Deborah. May I ask what causes it?”
Being careful not to share restricted information, she simply answered, “I recently learned St. Mary University received a founding gift from a family named Dubois.”
“Ah yes. Antoine Dubois.”
Deborah was stunned. “How do you know about him?”
“His son, Willem, was our great-grandfather.”
“I’m sorry, what did you say?” Her trepidation was replaced with curiosity.
“Willem Dubois was our great-grandfather.”
“But Willem was a priest.”
Celeste let out a hearty chuckle. “Yes, he was. That was before he met and married my great-grandmother. Many suitors wanted her, but Willem Matthieu Antoine Dubois wooed her!” She laughed. “Are you sure you wouldn’t like some tea?” she offered again.
With curiosity piqued, Deborah sat next to Celeste as she poured her a cup of tea.
“How did they meet?”
“As the story goes, he came to Haiti to assist the Sisters at the orphanage. His interest in local custom and traditions led him to my great-grandmother, Michelle Mugabe.” She laughed.
“Why her?” Deborah asked.
“Beyond being very beautiful, she was a Mambo.”
“What’s that?”
“A very powerful priestess.”
“Really? How many children did they have?” Deborah asked.
“Three boys.”
“And they were raised in Haiti, too?”
“Yes. But the eldest, my grandfather, was sent to Brussels for his education. When he returned, he also became a protector of our family’s greatest treasure.”
Does she mean Dajume? Did Willem and his wife find a way to… no! That’s too crazy, she thought.
If what Celeste was telling her were true, it would explain what happened to Willem when he went to Haiti. Deborah wanted to ask her if she knew anything about the Dajume and Asira without breaching the confidentiality around the Collection.
“If you don’t mind me asking, what exactly does your family protect?”
Celeste smiled broadly, “Something very sacred that Willem brought back from the Congo.”
Oh my God! Deborah thought. “What exactly?”
“Your tea is getting cold.”
Deborah picked up the cup and sipped. It was sweet with an interesting aftertaste. “What kind of tea is this?”
“A Haitian variety from the mountains. I mix it myself,” Celeste replied. “I find it awakens the spirit within. Do you like it?”
“Yes. It’s very good, thank you.” Taking a longer sip, she savored it. “So what did you say he brought back?”
“I think you know.”
“Why would I?”
“Because the answer is within Father Willem’s diaries and artifacts. Certainly, you have begun work on them. Yes?”
“How do you know about that?”
“They were sent to St. Mary under very strict terms, Miss Deborah. A sizeable sum was also given for their care and protection.”
I’ll be damned! Deborah thought. “Then you’re related to Ben Stewart? He’s also a Dubois.”
“I’m sorry, who?”
“According to my research, Antoine Dubois had three daughters.”
“That’s correct,” Celeste said.
“Ben is descended from one of them.”
“That’s not possible. Willem’s sister, Margot, died in childbirth in 1913, as did the child. The other became a nun and was childless. Camille is the only one who had children. My cousins in Baltimore are the only Antoine Dubois family line beyond our own.”
“Are you sure?”
“Miss Deborah, it is my business to know my family… there is no Stewart line.” Celeste’s face became very serious.
Did I get it wrong? Deborah thought. She clearly remembered Ben saying he was a distant relative of the Dubois family. He definitely told her about Camille smuggling the family papers to the U.S. following the Great War. Maybe he was related through one of Antoine Dubois’ siblings. She knew all too well family history could be a complicated web. On more than one occasion, she helped families researching their genealogy. Many discovered their family trees had quite a few more branches and roots than expected. It was often unsettling.
“Perhaps I’ve gotten a detail wrong,” Deborah said picking up the teacup.
“Is Ben Stewart the man Mugabe attacked?”
She hesitated before answering. “Yes.”
“He is not who he claims to be, and he is certainly no Dubois!”
Deborah was flabbergasted. “There has to be a mistake.”
“I can prove who I am. Can he?”
CHAPTER 27
Ben desperately wanted this all to be a horrible coincidence. When he began pursuing Father Willem’s Collection, he thought he’d find the sarcophagus with a body in it. Once finding it, he could easily decapitate it or awaken Asira. But when Deborah told him the vessel was empty, it made no sense. The human form would have been almost one hundred twenty years old. While possible, it was highly improbable. It never occurred to him that Asira could be a far younger person. Why hasn’t Asira aged? Did the aging begin again when the sarcophagus was damaged during the Haitian earthquake? That had to be the answer.
Staring at the papers scattered in front of him, he read every detail of the investigator’s report over and over. As a small child, Deborah was found in the mountains in the Sud region roaming alone following the 1994 Haitian earthquake. He read through her latest translations about Willem’s move to Haiti. There was no mistaking the implication of either. He never imagined his search would lead to this. It was a cruel realization causing excruciating emotional distress. He fought against all the rage and profound pain caused by the information in front of him confirming Deborah is Asira.
He racked his brain for any logical explanation to overturn his conclusion, but there was nothing. The thought of taking her life was unfathomable. Convert her! But how do I explain this? How much will she remember when awakened? In her natural form, he and Asira waged many battles against one another. Asira’s ability to cause confusion by misdirection often ended their conflicts in a stalemate. His ability to capture her energies in his breath often had the same result. Yet, Asira was still a formidable enemy who could be a powerful ally if only…
He was having a difficult time separating the being he’d known for millennia with the woman he desperately loved. Knowing what he now did, he was still prepared to give the whole world to Deborah if she wanted it. I must help her understand her future—her very eternity—is with me! He got up from the couch gathering up the papers. Deborah is intelligent. She’ll figure this out for herself once she reads the report. Once she understands, I’ll awaken Asira. He’d be there to guide her through the transition. She’d choose him, and this would all be over. The more he contemplated, the calmer he became. They’d rule the entire realm and universe together.
Hearing keys in the lock, he looked toward the door. When Deborah walked through, he was surprised she came home early. But her face looked… anguished.
“Hello, my sweet. Is everything all right?” he said setting the report on the side table.
She dropped her tote bag on top of the report, and slowly removed her blazer without answering him. Rather than sit next to him as she often did, she sat close on the sofa’s edge with her fingers gripping it.
“
Deborah, what’s wrong?”
“Tell me again how you’re related to the Dubois’?”
“Why on earth do I need to go through that again?”
“Because I can’t remember what you said,” she replied without looking at him.
Something was amiss, but he had no idea what it could be. “I’m descended from Antoine’s daughter.”
“Which one?”
“Margot.”
Deborah immediately got up folding her arms across her body. “That’s not possible! She died during childbirth in 1913!”
She can’t possibly know. “What’s this about, my sweet?”
“Don’t call me that!” she shouted.
“Deborah? What’s going on?”
“You lied to me about who you are!”
“You know who I am.”
“No, I don’t. But I do know Mr. Mugabe… Jean-Claude Mugabe Dubois was the great-grandson of Willem.”
Shocked by her latest revelation, he asked, “Who told you this?”
“His sister. I met her at his memorial service today.”
“Did it occur to you that she might be lying?”
“Everything she said about their family, what happened to Willem when he went to Haiti is in the last diary! I read it myself! So please… tell me who the fuck you are!”
“Everything you know about me is the truth… but I am not a Dubois. I merely wanted access to the Collection.”
“So you lied to everyone to do it… and you used me! You lied to me!”
“Deborah, please!”
He was in agony, but he kept his distance. He wanted to hold her and take away all the pain and doubt showing on her face.
“You need to leave… pack your things and get the hell out!”
Building rage darkened her beautiful eyes as tears fell from them. There was nothing he hated more than seeing Deborah cry and knowing he was the cause. He could have blurted out “You are Asira!” But in her current state, she’d never believe him. Even if she did, awakening her with emotions this raw would not give the outcome he imagined only moments before she arrived.
Taking a deep breath, he calmly said, “You’re right, I lied to you. I was searching for one thing and found the greatest treasure of my life… in you. I would do it again if it meant finding you. I know my dishonesty will have costs far greater than either of us can imagine, but never doubt my love for you is eternal.”
With softened voice, she said, “I need you to leave, Ben.”
Respecting her wishes, he gathered items he usually left with her until his next visit. Once fully packed, he placed it all by the door. She sat motionless on the couch refusing to look at him.
“You know how to reach me when you’re ready.”
Hearing him walk out the door was excruciating. Feeling unsteady, she went to the couch curling into a fetal position. Pain consumed every fiber of her being. Her tears became wails of despair, and she felt sick to her stomach. Before she could contain it, she vomited with the taste of Celeste’s tea stinging the back of her throat. The room began to spin making her more nauseous. She felt disoriented even as she rolled onto her back to steady herself before passing out.
Boom! The sound of the guns and cannon echoed shaking leaves on trees as they ran for their lives. Bodies fell, as terror ripped through the villagers scrambling to get away. Looking over the shoulder of the one now carrying her, she saw such hatred on their faces. She had to do something!
Extending her little hand, she slowly waved it and one by one, the pursuers stopped in their tracks. Dropping to their knees, they babbled incoherently to the shock of the few not affected. As the others ran on, the one carrying her led her along a different path deep into the forest.
Arriving in a clearing, she saw the kindly faces—her protectors. The friendly pale man reached for her hugging her tightly before offering the sweet drink in a cup made just for her. Her throat tightened, and there was little she could do to ease the sensation. Soon chanting voices faded into cacophonous whispers. Then everything was black.
Waking in sheer terror, her head throbbed mercilessly. Slowly getting up, darkness now filled the apartment, and she had no idea what time it was. Not wanting to step into the mess she’d made when she threw up, she scooted toward the other end of the couch and turned on the lamp. Heading to the kitchen, she got a drink of water to quell the putrid taste in the back of her throat. Reaching for a few paper towels, she wet them and returned to the living room to clean up her mess.
This was by far the worse day of her life. For the first time in a very long time, she felt truly alone. She pondered how a stranger came into her life and filled it with such love and joy and still managed to destroy it all. Ben was her intellectual equal and yet he challenged her to learn more every day. He had become her everything—confidante, lover, and closest friend—but it was all built on a lie exposed by yet another stranger. She didn’t know who or what to trust anymore. Her heart was breaking, and Ben was gone… to where, she wasn’t sure.
Ben sat in the DAC lounge finishing his third Martini. Regret overwhelmed him realizing there was little he could’ve done to avert what happened. This Celeste woman exposed him, and he could care less. He didn’t care about much as he ordered yet another drink. The only thing he cared about was Deborah… and she was hurting because of him. Despite all the emotions overwhelming him, one truth was unavoidable. Deborah was Asira.
He had to deal with the situation before The Others discovered her. He couldn’t risk anyone else awakening her. The results could be catastrophic. He didn’t have to imagine what would happen if Veshlu or Huria discovered the secret. They would slaughter Deborah on sight. If the Nubí knew, she would learn immediately he was Bensaí. She’d feel more betrayed and deceived. He had to find a way to get back into her graces. He had to be the one to explain and help her transition to her new truth. The idea of her being alone in that apartment made her vulnerable to the unthinkable.
It was well after ten when Deborah climbed into bed after showering. Having brushed her teeth vigorously and rinsed with mouthwash, she still couldn’t get the taste of that damn tea out of her throat. What was in that? She considered getting a bite to eat to help dilute it, but her stomach was too unsettled. She lay down and immediately smelled Ben on her sheets. The consuming sadness came to the fore once more. Reaching for his pillow, she held it tightly as her ache for him overwhelmed her. She wanted him… desperately and her heart seemed to scream out to him.
His head started pounding. Gripping the side of the bar, he knew it wasn’t the alcohol. He was being summoned… by Deborah. He could feel her reaching out to him. This was far different than before when she dreamed of him… this was despair. Somehow she was strengthening, and he had to get out of the bar before he collapsed. The last thing he wanted was a group of well-intentioned people hovering over him trying to revive him and engaging the authorities. Gaining his bearings, he rushed toward the elevator hoping to make it to his room in time. Fumbling through the door, he fell to the floor upon entering the room.
“You hurt me,” she whispered.
He didn’t understand what was happening. She seemed awake but in a daze. He wasn’t sure if she could see or detect his true form at all. But she was clearly talking to him as she clutched the pillow.
“Why did you lie to me, Ben?”
“I never intended to hurt you. But I never intended to love you either,” he replied softly.
Watching her carefully, he still felt her powerful grasp on his essence. Having been summoned so forcefully yet incorrectly, he couldn’t pull away to return to his body.
“Love doesn’t hurt.”
“No, it doesn’t. Losing it is what pains us, my sweet.”
“Tell me the truth.”
“The truth is I love you, but you must release me, or I will die.”
“I don’t want to let you go!”
“Then I’ll die knowing you loved me.”
He coughed and g
agged writhing on the floor trying to catch his breath and calm his rapidly beating heart. Clutching his chest, it felt as if a heavy weight had crushed it. The body couldn’t sustain episodes like that. He had to get to Deborah as soon as possible, but he was simply too weak to do it.
CHAPTER 28
Grateful for the weekend to come to grips with what happened between Ben and her, time alone was what she needed most. She was certain he was airborne bound for London. As hurt as she was, the thought of never seeing him again was crushing. Yet, somehow she had to navigate the plethora of emotions often at conflict with one another. He not only lied to her, he also kept it going for months. As she lay in bed staring at the ceiling, she thought about the dream. He was with her… apologizing and professing his love. But there was something eerie, or more aptly ethereal about it. It felt just as real as her night terrors. Recounting greater details, he said something peculiar, “release me, or I will die.” What the hell did that mean?
Her phone pinged with a text coming through. Looking at it, the message was from Ben.
B: I can’t leave without seeing you
D: I’m not ready
B: Please. There’s much to be said
D: No
The longer pause led her to believe he had nothing else to share. But then the phone pinged again.
B: Open the door, my sweet
What? She got up and went to the front door peering through the peephole. He was standing there staring back at her.
“Please leave,” she said through the door.
“At least let me say goodbye… face to face,” he replied. “Deborah, please. I’m begging you.”
She looked through the peephole once more into sincere, loving eyes. Slowly unlocking it, she opened the door but didn’t invite him in.
“What else is there to say? You told me you loved me. You said you were sorry. And you admitted you lied and used me to get to the Collection. Just say goodbye and go.”
Asira Awakens Page 19