Balance of Forces

by Ali Vali

  “I kept my word, now it’s time for you to keep yours,” Henri said as he slowly staggered away.

  “Kill him,” Morgaine rasped from her arms.

  “I gave my word not to kill him now, but I won’t be bound to it forever. To the future I pledge my oath that Abez will die no matter the cost.”

  Two days later the sunrise came, bringing with it a sense of despair. She gathered Angelina’s ashes and arranged to have them buried in the church-run cemetery outside the city after Angelina’s priest blessed them. Morgaine waited in the du’Pons’ home until all of Jacques’s slaves set sail to freedom in Europe. All of them accepted her offer and boarded ships except one.

  Lionel stayed behind with her, wanting some explanation as to what had happened, why his family had been slaughtered. Her answers made no sense to him, and he cursed her for trying to finish driving him insane.

  “No man or woman lives forever, and no one lives on blood alone,” Lionel screamed.

  The plantation was quiet and peaceful without the sounds of workers and playing children. They were standing in the field where they had lit the pyres of their dead. “I can only tell you the truth as I know it, but I can’t make you believe me. I’ve lived almost three thousand years as a warrior of the Genesis Clan. Our Elders are the keepers of balance between good and evil in the world. You can say I’m their angel of death to the undead.”

  “You are mad.”

  She sighed and pulled a dagger from her belt and handed it to him. “If my words can’t convince you, perhaps my blade can.” She ripped her shirt open, and he appeared confused at the bindings wrapped around her chest. “I am Asra, born in Egypt under the rule of the only female pharaoh in history. The sun is my strength, and the Genesis Clan is my guide.” She faced the afternoon sun and held her hands out. “Go on, try to kill me.”

  “So I can find myself at the end of a rope? I don’t think so, Jacques.”

  She took the dagger back and drove it in herself, and Lionel lunged forward to try to stop her. “Pull it out,” she said as they both lay on the ground. He watched in amazement as the wound closed and healed with the help of the sun. “Do you believe me now? These little demonstrations are rather taxing, and I’d hate to have to do it again.”

  “I want to be like you, if only to avenge my family.”

  She sat up, wiping her hands of her own blood on the grass. “I can’t, Lionel. I promised the Elders, and to me that’s very precious. A person is nothing without their word.”

  “Do you know how?”

  “Yes, I remember how to make the elixir and recite the incantations necessary to draw the powers of the sun into the cup, but you don’t know what you’re asking.”

  “I’m asking for the time to find that bastard who calls himself your brother and drive him into hell, even if it means going with him myself.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Oakgrove, present day

  Kendal had given in to his pleas, earning the wrath of the Elders for decades for breaking her oath. If she hadn’t found and saved Morgaine, they would most likely have buried her and she’d still be a sleeping, dry husk.

  She focused on her surroundings right before Piper’s fingers reached her cheek to wipe away the tears that had fallen, and it surprised her that Piper would want to touch her. Kendal didn’t move away, and when she met Piper’s gaze, she saw a reflection of the same compassion Angelina’s eyes had held for her once upon a time.

  “Why do you always look so sad when you sit alone and think?” Piper asked with her hand still on her face.

  “I cry for the things I cannot change.”

  Piper wiped away the last of her tears and smiled. “Then you must cry a lot.”

  “More than my share, but reviewing the list of my mistakes helps me try harder not to repeat them.” She took a deep breath and tried to put aside the memories. Having to end Angelina’s life had been one of her worst experiences, but that was easier to accept than leaving her to the existence that awaited her as a vampire. “To what do I owe the pleasure of your company twice in one day?”

  Piper took a seat next to her and folded her hands over her knees. “You know why I’m here, and because you didn’t bother to tell me what you did for us, I had a miserable drive into the city.”

  “I’m guessing you were wrong about the demise of Marmande,” she said, tapping Piper’s chin gently with her index finger. “At least the size of your smile indicates that you were able to handle Kenny.”

  “Don’t get modest now,” Piper said, shaking her head. “Since I didn’t buy a lottery ticket, and no rich relative left us a hefty inheritance, you can admit you saved us. I’ll always be grateful for what you did—”

  Kendal almost laughed. “But,” she said, knowing why Piper was having trouble finishing her thought.

  “But…what do you want in return?” Piper got the question out in a rush, patting her knee once before sliding to the other side of the bench as if someone had placed a pile of nuclear waste between them. “You saved us, but my gratitude goes only so far. We can talk about how we’re going to pay you back, and I promise a return on your loan. Anything else, though, isn’t going to happen.”

  “You don’t owe me anything, Miss Marmande, so you might look into your inheritance theory if you’ve found yourself in the black. If you remember, I’m a heartless bitch, so I certainly wouldn’t be so generous. The only thing I’ll add for future reference is this homosexual is perfectly capable of getting girls without a large financial transaction. No insult to hardworking girls notwithstanding.” When she emphasized the word homosexual, Piper blushed.

  “I’m not here to insult you,” Piper said, her face relaxing a bit but her cheeks staying pink. “You can deny it, but thanks.”

  Kendal nodded and laughed at Piper’s bull-in-a-china-shop personality. Someone would eventually have an interesting but fulfilled and happy life because Piper chose to love them. “I’m no one’s rich uncle, Miss Marmande. But if it makes you feel better, you’re welcome, even if your gratitude isn’t necessary. You get to keep something that’s important to you, and I’m glad because I know it’s as much a part of you as your grandparents.” She slapped her thighs before standing up and starting for the house. Piper and Mac might not have been part of her plan, but playtime was over. “If that’s all, I really have to get going.”

  In reality, the gift that was to Piper the fortune she needed for a fresh start didn’t add up to much, considering what Kendal was worth. Giving it had made her expect something more from Piper than a thank-you, with no strings attached. She wasn’t confused or in denial about Piper’s sexual interest, but something about Piper made her crave to be a part of her life.

  “Can I ask why? I haven’t exactly been on my best behavior every time we talk,” Piper said, stopping her.

  “It wasn’t me. I can’t put it any more simply,” she said after turning around. Piper couldn’t make her admit otherwise, since she had given her the money not only to keep the shipyard, but to keep her safe. Now that the crisis was over, Piper could go to work on her expansion plans, making her happy and, more important, keeping her off Henri’s radar.

  “If hypothetically you did help us,” Piper persisted, “why’d you do it?”

  She had to laugh and walk back to stand closer to Piper. “Perhaps you should consider a career in interrogation since you don’t give up easily. Hypothetically, huh?” she asked, making Piper nod. “I’d consider playing your money fairy because you remind me of someone I used to know. Like you, she was beautiful, had a joy for life, and cared for others more than for herself. She was incredibly special, and I’m sure she would’ve been disappointed in me for not helping you.” She paused and bent closer. “Hypothetically speaking, of course.” She smiled since Piper’s face got cherry red again when she’d said she was beautiful.

  “Who is she to you?”

  “The proper tense here is, who was she to me.” It still stung to refer to Angelina as p
art of her past. “It’s not important, so good luck to you and Mr. Marmande. Your business is simply that—yours, so enjoy your fresh start without any worry. You don’t owe anyone anything for this, especially me. I give you my word,” she said, ignoring Piper’s question.

  “But—” Piper stopped when Kendal raised her hand.

  “There’s nothing else to say but good-bye,” she said, turning around and starting for the house. This time nothing Piper did would stop her. Henri was her priority now, so this would be the last time she’d see Piper. Before she got too far away, she turned around, finding Piper rooted in place, the slight breeze blowing her hair from her shoulders.

  “Henri, if you’d picked her instead of Veronica, your strategy might’ve worked,” she thought. Piper and Angelina were vastly different, even in their looks, now that she’d had the opportunity to spend time with Piper to compare. But those last days with Angelina would’ve been just that, even if Henri hadn’t arrived. She would’ve come to her senses before revealing the secret of Jacques and let Angelina go. Piper, had she been willing, would’ve muddled her senses until she died in her arms years from now.

  Piper Marmande wasn’t a woman you walked away from, and she certainly wasn’t one you forgot, but that’s exactly what she planned to do.

  *

  “Does anything in Richoux’s past mention a girl who left her hanging somewhere along the line?” Piper asked. Hill looked at her like she’d lost her mind.

  “Do you really not read anything I send when you have me investigate someone? Nothing, nothing tells me anything about her aside from her accomplishments in school, then as the head of the company she founded. She doesn’t give interviews about business, much less about her personal life.”

  “Hill, this accomplished but extremely private businesswoman you know nothing about just gave me millions of dollars, and she doesn’t want to admit it. She also doesn’t want to look at me, much less tell me what she wants in return, so call me stupid, but I have a burning desire to know.”

  “You’re stupid.”

  “What did you say?” She scanned Hill’s desk for something heavy to throw at her.

  “I called you stupid,” Hill said again, obviously oblivious to any threat. “If she gave you the money, saved your ass, and doesn’t want anything in return, what exactly is the downside?”

  “You ever heard of a balloon payment? We’re cruising along building boats, and whammo, Ms. I Want My Money Back comes waltzing along and we’re screwed. You don’t have anything to tell me, aside from thinking I’m an idiot?” In her gut she knew that would never happen, but Kendal wasn’t getting off that easy.

  She had a short window of opportunity to find out who Kendal really was before she disappeared. Once she was gone, no matter how much Hill dug, Piper would never find her. She’d have the shipyard, but nothing else. Remembering Kendal’s face when she’d turned around and looked at her made that possibility unacceptable.

  “You’re not an idiot, you’re stupid.” Hill dropped her eyes to her lap. “Though I didn’t tell you something about the day I followed her to the church.”

  “Now, Hill, I need to know now.”

  “The nun told me about this painting. The church that’s there now is the second St. Louis Cathedral, but Jacques St. Louis mainly put the deal together and paid for the original.”

  Piper sat up in her chair. “The original owner of Oakgrove?”

  “One and the same.”

  “What does that have to do with anything? I love history, Hill, but this isn’t the time.”

  Hill rolled her eyes, so Piper closed her mouth. “The church must’ve commissioned a painting to mark the occasion or to chronicle the history of who was involved. That’s what I was looking at the other day. It’s a picture of Mr. St. Louis with the holy men who I guess were going to staff the place, other dignitaries involved, and a woman.”

  “Who was the woman?” Piper asked, again cruising the desk in case she needed to prod Hill into talking faster.

  “I had to dig a little, but I finally found her portrait in the archives of the newspaper back then. At the time Tomas du’Pon, a guy who never married and had three brothers, owned and operated the New Orleans Gazette. One of his brothers, along with his wife, died in an epidemic, and Tomas was left to raise their only child, a girl named Angelina.” Hill stopped and stared at her until she waved her on, impatient to hear the rest. “The girl in the portrait standing next to Jacques was Angelina du’Pon.”

  “What’s so spectacular about that story that you just wasted ten minutes of my time telling me?”

  “Okay, that’s it.” Hill jumped up, grabbed her by the arm, dragged her outside to her car, and shoved her into the passenger seat. They drove in silence to the church, where Hill grabbed her again and pulled her to the door of the rectory offices.

  “Can I help you?” A young man in long priest’s robes opened the door, then folded his hands in front of him.

  “We’re sorry to bother you, Father, but I was here the other day and one of the sisters showed me a painting hanging in the foyer. Would you allow me to show it to my friend?”

  “Of course, come in.” He waved them in and closed the heavy oak door behind them. A painting of the Last Supper hung there. “It’s spectacular, isn’t it? We just recently acquired it through a private donation.”

  “It’s lovely, Father, but we were interested in seeing the painting that was here before,” Hill said.

  “I know the one you’re referring to, and I’m sorry, but that’s not possible.”

  “What, you want a donation or something?” Piper asked, about to flick Hill in the back of the head for dragging her down there, but now the priest was acting a little suspicious.

  “No, ma’am, we sent the painting back to the original owner, or should I say the family who owns it. It only hung here on loan. It’s a shame they didn’t donate it or allow us to replicate it, but that’s their wish.” The priest smiled and folded his hands together again. “Can I help you with anything else?”

  “Father, do you know much of the history of some of the church’s more prominent parishioners?” Hill asked.

  “Some, why do you ask?”

  “Can you tell us anything about the du’Pon family or, more specifically, Angelina du’Pon?”

  “That’s easy. The Angelina du’Pon trust, set up shortly after the original church was built, funds a majority of the children’s programs the church administers in this area. She’s buried in St. Louis cemetery number one, though no reason for death was ever listed with the church.” He closed his eyes as if trying to remember anything else of importance. “There’s another perpetual fund set up to care for her tomb and place fresh flowers there every week.”

  “For hundreds of years?” Piper asked in disbelief.

  “Yes, I’m a man of the cloth, but I’ve always thought it rather romantic to remember a loved one so long.”

  Hill squeezed her hand and made a motion for her to be quiet. “Who set up the trusts?”

  “Her fiancé, the Marquis Jacques St. Louis. He left the city shortly after her death and was never heard of again. Some say he died of a broken heart, but he was most generous with us even in his absence.” The young priest pointed to the door. “I have to return to my studies, if that’s all.”

  “One last thing, Father. Who’s the current St. Louis heir in charge of the trust?” Piper asked, the wild-goose chase Hill had involved her in making her forget her worry over the business. Suddenly it was crucial to know. If she wanted to keep Kendal close enough to build a friendship, the path to her was through the past.

  “I’m sorry, I can’t give out that information. They asked to remain anonymous. In these times the church must respect the wishes of whoever’s willing to believe in our cause. I can only tell you that the money for everything Angelina’s memory pays for goes strictly to the welfare of children, since they were supposedly Angelina’s greatest joy, and the current heir carries
on that commitment.”

  “So she and Jacques had children?” she asked.

  “No, ma’am, they never married. Miss du’Pon died before they were able to exchange vows, so I assume Jacques St. Louis went on to have children. An heir has always carried on the family business since his death. Whoever that young woman was, she must’ve been very understanding to compete with the memory of Angelina’s ghost. Jacques St. Louis’s devotion affirms my belief in the afterlife. Maybe in their next life they had better fortune and were able to be together.”

  “Thank you, Father, you’ve been a big help.” Hill motioned for Piper to follow her out. “What I’m about to tell you sounds crazy, but something was strange about that painting. I stared at it for ten minutes and still couldn’t believe what I was looking at.”

  “Tell me already,” Piper said, through clenched teeth.

  “Jacques St. Louis was the spitting image of Kendal Richoux, and the woman standing next to him looked just like you.”

  Two things flew through Piper’s mind, stopping her from telling Hill she was crazy. The day they met, Kendal had turned pale, as if she’d seen a ghost. Also, just that afternoon Kendal had said Piper reminded her of someone she knew. That was impossible, though. They weren’t talking ten years ago. It had been almost three hundred years since Angelina and her boyfriend, Jacques, walked the city. “It can’t be,” she said, but her heart knew that’s where the truth lay.

  “I agree, but I’m telling you, Piper, the two were dead ringers for both of you. Emphasis on the dead part.” Hill stared at Piper’s forehead; she’d started sweating. “Are you okay? You want me to drive you home?”

  “Hill, do you think Kendal is the current St. Louis heir?”

  “Yes, but why would she want the painting back? Do you think one of the penguins told her someone was here looking at it?” Piper smiled at her description of the nun. “What difference would it make if anyone knew she was the current St. Louis heir?”