"I heard you did a little investigating yourself, Emilie."
She smiled half-heartedly. "You mean Mr. Labue? Yes, I needed to know what's going on."
"How did you know to go to him?" Robert looked annoyed, his aggravation slipping from beneath his veil. Emile hated playing games. I will not hide the truth like everyone else. She cleared her throat.
"His name came up on a document I saw on Father's desk."
"What, you went through his things?! You are a brave soul, Cherie." He grinned, that same smirk he often got when it seemed he was secretly laughing at her. "And what did you find out? Please, Emilie, tell me everything so we can figure this all out together."
Robert flashed an odd smile, an expression Emilie didn't quite understand.
"Rob, Mr. Labue told me exactly what he’d already told you. That's what he said, anyway." Choosing to let her guard down, she told him about the package.
"His name was listed with other information that I saw in the package sent to Father. Someone delivered information about a curse on our family. It was from that man who was here last night, Mr. Pierce."
Robert's face turned red. "Emilie, it's not wise for you to go any deeper with this stuff. It seems someone is just trying to make a quick buck off of Father. You know, appealing to his grief-stricken heart, that is, if he even has a heart. Please, just stay out of this. I will take care of Mr. Pierce, okay? Promise me, Emilie, that you will leave this alone. I don't want our family paying off swindlers left and right."
She shivered from an icy chill that ran down her back. Robert turned and started to walk away, still speaking. "Have fun with Michelle in New Orleans. Try and have a real vacation, Emilie."
The coldness melted when a tender smile spread across his face, as he gave a last glance over his shoulder.
"Okay, we will. Thank you, Robert."
She smiled back, but an internal alarm continued to sound inside her head, telling Emilie that all was not well with her brother. Something twisted and warped resided in him, deep inside. She didn't know what or why, but her instinct cried danger zone. She stood quiet, eyes downcast. Maybe the trip to New Orleans would lead her to an answer. Emilie wanted to understand what was happening in Robert’s life, but her first priority was understanding the phenomenon that threatened her family, because her big brother was next in line for the curse.
Later in the evening, Emilie heard a ruckus. Michelle had arrived and the house burst with jubilant noise that drifted all the way to the back porch. Emilie opened the screen door, ran through the house, and greeted her sister in the front hall, where everyone gathered sharing hugs and kisses. Michelle bubbled with life and Emilie drank in her happy mood.
"Good Lord, it is so good to see you home again, Miss Michelle." Nina hugged her tight; her laugh sounded like bells ringing. Michelle struggled to get out of her hold.
"I miss you too, and something smells good. You made something special?"
"Nina made your favorite," Emilie said. She made her way to Michelle, kissed her cheek, and hugged her sister.
"Well hello, dear sister."
Robert boomed into the foyer, and they all turned their attention to him. "Michelle, my bell, what's happening in Beantown? You miss me?"
He gave Michelle a bear hug. Emilie smiled as she watched, thrilled to see them both so happy.
"Of course! There's plenty of people asking about you, too. Cindy said to say hello."
"Cindy? Cindy who?" he said.
"Cindy Hahn, of course. You remember. She said to say ‘hello, big boy,’" Michelle giggled.
"Oh, that Cindy." He rolled his eyes with a smirk. Obvious to Emilie, Robert and Michelle shared an inside joke from a previous romp together up in Boston.
"Your old roommate, Jackson Bennett, was at a party last week, Robert. I had a nice talk with him," Michelle said.
Robert twitched, a nerve in his face pinched at the mention of Jackson's name. Emilie felt a jolt, like an emotional slap. Some days she couldn't keep her feelings straight from his. Whatever secrets he harbored, it had to stop, for her sake as much as his. She couldn't take this invisible assault much longer.
"How is he doing these days?" he said, recovering smoothly.
"He said you haven't been in touch for a while, and he wondered when you'll come up north for a visit. Seems his father invited you to their home for a weekend visit. Anyway, he asked for you to call ahead and make sure he's around this time. I guess he missed you the last time you visited the house. Did you fly up to meet with his father, Tom Bennett? I don't remember you visiting lately, Rob. Did you come up north without seeing me?"
Michelle faked a pout on her petite face. Emilie noticed her sister watching him. She was fishing for something, and Emilie wondered what mystery Michelle hid or sought. Blind to the reasons, Emilie knew something important had just gone on. She shook her head and scolded herself. I have enough to think about without imagining more.
"Of course not, Michelle,” Robert said. “I don't know what Jackson told you. Why would I visit Tom Bennett, anyway? I haven't been up to New England for almost a year now. Besides, you know I'll always stop to see you first, you know where all the great parties are! It would be a wash without you."
Michelle smiled back. "Of course, you’re right." Unable to keep a straight face, Michelle laughed aloud.
Robert showed an outward smile, but the blood rushed to his cheeks; he was either red from embarrassment or he was angry. Emilie couldn't tell which. He turned his head quickly and caught Emilie watching him. The tension between them thickened. She couldn’t understand these intense emotions surrounding him, almost as though he hated her. She turned away, determined to stop watching him. He would explain what bothered him when he was ready to talk.
"Let's go to the dining room for dinner," Emilie said.
Robert's expression changed and a new mask emerged. "Well, girls, I love you both but I’ve got to go," he said.
"Rob, I just got here. Can't you stay in one night?" Michelle frowned. Being the youngest, that pout often got her what she wanted, but not tonight.
"Sorry. Next time give me a little lead time to clear my schedule."
Nina laughed. "Yes, don't you know his majesty has important business? Out every night! Acting like a cat in heat. Robert de Gourgues, may the good Lord bless you. You be needing it." Nina shook her head, but still smiled. Robert turned and gave her a big squeeze.
"Stop your teasing now, Nina," he said. "I am no king, but I do have much on my plate. You have no idea. Just ask Emilie, she knows."
Robert gave his sisters a hug, and waved as he went out the door. "Have a fun trip and a drink for me."
Emilie knew he was in a hurry to see Rachael again tonight, or is he seeing Laura? He was still insisting that Rachael had bewitched him, and he hoped they’d be happy forever, which meant the curse was her official first priority. She needed to stop it before he made any drastic decisions, like marriage.
With just the two sisters left for a late dinner, they decided to eat in the kitchen with Nina. The housekeeper smiled widely, jubilant that the girls were together, and her contagious excitement lifted Emilie's mood.
"You know, Miss Michelle, you need to come home more often. You look too skinny and I miss you. Your sister misses you, too. We need more whooping and hollering around here. She has no one here. Miss Emilie is all alone most evenings. Maybe you could find her a man to hitch up to."
A pang of regret shot through Emilie, despite the knowledge that Nina was only teasing. "Oh, funny. Thanks, Nina, but I don't need a man."
"We all need a man or two or three!" Michelle said.
They all laughed until their sides hurt. Emilie hadn't realized how much she had missed her sister. Her expectations soared, and she was suddenly anticipating a great trip to New Orleans.
CHAPTER NINE
Emilie and Michelle left early in the morning on the family's private jet to New Orleans, and landed within an hour. A car whisked them to the
hotel and they settled into a luxurious suite at the Ritz-Carlton on Canal Street, in the Warehouse District. Their rooms had a view of the Mississippi and the French Quarter.
Emilie indulged in a relaxing stone massage. She let herself find some release as the warm stones soothed her frazzled nerves. Then, she and Michelle went out to lunch. Catching a cab, they drove to a small local spot along the trolley line at the edge of the French Quarter. The hostess seated them without delay.
The spring sun filtered through the massive restaurant window. The warmth of the sunbeams cast across her face. She noticed the sparkle in her sister's blue eyes, just like Mother's eyes. Michelle talked about her friends in Boston, and her job as a writer with the Boston Common, a popular magazine at the heart of the city, and finally about their Aunt Victoria, who was Mother's only sister. Michelle's vitality seemed bottomless, and Emilie enjoyed every upbeat moment.
Then, like hitting a wall at forty miles per hour, Michelle's good mood changed. Emilie jerked her head back, closed her eyes, and tried to understand what had just happened. The conversation had been pleasant, and then Emilie had asked about the conversation with Jackson, that Michelle had mentioned to Robert. Is that what changed her mood? Michelle reacted harshly, and Emilie didn’t understand why that would trigger such a strong reaction. Her head hurt, so she rubbed her temple. All the results from the massage therapy, gone in a flash. Something clearly bothered Michelle, and the conversation stalled. Then Michelle leaned forward and, in a softer voice, asked Emilie an odd question.
"Has anyone from up north been down here to visit with Robert lately? You asked about my conversation with Jackson. Well, Jackson told me his father talks about Robert all the time. I think it's kind of weird. Have you noticed anything wrong?"
Emilie harrumphed. Of course I’ve noticed something wrong, but what to say to Michelle? "Well, Robert gallivants all around town at night with all kinds of people, but he never drops names to me. I'm not sure if any friends from Boston stop to visit, but I suppose it's possible. I assumed he was spending most nights lately with Rachael, his new flame. Do you remember her, my old friend, Rachael La France?"
Emilie waited a moment for Michelle to respond, but she didn’t appear to be listening any longer, already thinking of something else. She returned to the question Michelle had just posed. "Why would his friend's father ask about Robert, anyway? That is odd," Emilie said.
Emilie didn’t doubt the merit of this new tidbit, especially because of the unusual vibes Robert projected lately. Michelle leaned forward again. This time, she lowered her voice as if she needed to speak in secret.
"All I can think of is that he wants Rob's money somehow. I know that sounds strange. This, of course, means he wants our money, too."
Michelle dropped her hand onto the white linen-covered table. Emilie shivered, suddenly sensing something evil in the room. She looked around. There weren't many people, and no one seemed to be paying them any attention. She sighed with frustration, unable to figure out where the feeling had come from. Quiet for a moment, she mulled over her sister's words.
"Honestly, Michelle, Robert does seem off lately. He and Father are often at odds, and Robert's despondent most days. Lately I've sensed creepy moods surrounding him, and something peculiar is going on."
Michelle's face lit up with interest as she waited to hear more. "I told you they want our money," she said.
"A man came to see Father with some documents and an old journal, and he's extorting money from him, but I’m not worried about the cash. It's something about a curse on our family. Robert—”
Michelle couldn’t hold back her laughter. "You have got to be kidding! I am definitely taking you out of the South. You’re more superstitious than I remembered. Before you know it, you’ll be just like Father!"
Emilie was quick to defend. "Crazy girl, just listen for a minute. I found out there's a family down here in New Orleans who may know something about this curse. That's the reason I chose to come here, to look up the family and see if someone can talk to us."
"Us? Listen to yourself, Emilie. Talking like this could even be real."
"Just hear me out. I know you don't believe in curses, but Father does. If we can get some background info, or find a way to stop this or show him there's nothing to worry about, whatever…then maybe Father will stop listening to this man. It's not a joke! Robert told me, no, he demanded that I stay out of it, which only makes me wonder what he's hiding."
Michelle raised her eyebrow, clearly intrigued at this latest news. Emilie saw a twinkle and nod, and knew she’d played the right card. "Well, if Robert says don't investigate, I say let's go for it! I hate it when people try to control us. Okay, let's check out your lead and see what happens."
Relieved that her sister was on board, Emilie explained the plan. "I checked the addresses of the Boniverre families in the area yesterday, and after considering everything, I determined there was only one good prospect. It's an address in the Garden District, one of the oldest neighborhoods around, so that’s our best shot at the eldest living relative."
"Listen to you, girl, sounding like a detective." Michelle's voice almost sang the words. "Just don't start getting all superstitious, and no more talk of your clairvoyant gift, either. I don't like getting freaked out. If you get any weird vibes from Rob, please keep them to yourself." She slapped her hands on the table to stress her point. "Just give me the facts, you know, the who, where, and what. I suppose this might be fun."
"Okay, we'll go after lunch and get it over with."
The waitress handed them menus.
Emilie, though happy her sister had agreed to go to the Boniverre home, was still upset. It was hard pretending she wasn't different. Her special connection with the paranormal had always made Michelle nervous, and her sister never hesitated to let her know it. Once again, Emilie couldn't be open about her nature, but at least she wasn't hiding anything. Michelle knew everything, even though she refused to accept.
The two sisters ordered and feasted on a Cajun crawfish dish, then had another drink to wash it down. Finished with lunch, they left the restaurant and took the St. Charles Avenue streetcar. They sat side by side on the wooden seats. Emilie enjoyed the clanging and the movement of the old train. The sun was bright and the faces of the other people around them became a blurred haze. Emilie felt lightheaded, either from their drinks or another break-in edging her thoughts.
Emotions of the other passengers crept up and surrounded her own, taking over. Something painful emanated from the poor older man who sat across from her, withering away. Hatred, from the girl sitting in the back who sported a black eye that she tried to hide behind sunglasses. Self-loathing and doubt spilled from the young man who sat hunkered down next to his domineering dad, a few rows down from them. Emilie closed her eyes and, with effort, pushed those feelings away. She shielded herself, a task that increased in difficulty with each new episode.
Determined to enjoy the ride, she concentrated on the surroundings in the Garden District, mindful of the souls who still filled this old neighborhood. The essence of the spirits here rang strong, however, and their turmoil proved difficult to ignore.
The streetcar had just passed Bordeaux Street, the air humid and the emotions of those around weighing her down, when a pang jolted her from her reverie. She opened her eyes, searching the faces of those around her for the source of the evil that now permeated her very being. A man two rows down stared at her, but quickly turned away. She hadn’t noticed him before. Ordinary, dressed casually, dark hair, medium build; he looked typical, but she was sure, suddenly, that he was anything but. She knew he had been watching them. Her instincts warned her to be careful.
She and Michelle got off at the next stop to walk a few blocks, enjoying the stroll past the elegant houses with their yesteryear facades. Emilie looked over her shoulder, but no one followed them. Letting my imagination run wild. She recalled some of her favorite fictional witches and vampires, who lived behind
Victorian doors in this very neighborhood in books, and wondered if the inspiration might have come from real people. Maybe she and Michelle could learn about this curse in a neighborhood with so much superstition surrounding it, or maybe her imagination truly had gone wild.
They reached the Boniverre house, blue with white trim and columns. Shutters hung on the windows, some of them closed. They entered through the black wrought-iron gate and approached the house. Emilie inhaled the rich scents from the fragrant yard, with dozens of rose bushes and lilies blazing a pink and yellow path. The blooming southern magnolias released their citrus perfume, and a flowering pear tree shed its last petals, falling in the breeze like a gentle snow.
Butterflies fluttered in the garden, and stirred in her stomach too, as Emilie walked up the wooden steps.
With so much at stake, she hoped to learn something helpful. She sensed that something important was about to happen, and not soon enough if her brother's relationship with Rachael took a serious turn. If the curse truly was to be believed, her old friend’s life was in danger.
Michelle reached over and pushed the button, ringing the doorbell. An old woman, near to a hundred by Emilie’s best guess, opened the door. She appeared feeble, but an amiable disposition flowed from her. Her small wrinkled face sagged, covered with dark brown patches, indicative of years of sun exposure. Her eyes sparkled like deep brown jewels. Small in stature, she stooped with her back bent from osteoporosis. Her gray hair was slicked back into a ponytail. She wore a pink flower-print housedress, crisp, clean, and ironed, snapped up the front.
Emilie made introductions and told the old woman that they wanted to know about the rumored old magic spells and family curses.
“Please come in, we can have some tea. Just straight through to my parlor,” Miss Boniverre invited. “There’s plenty of stories to tell.”
CHAPTER TEN
Miss Boniverre escorted the girls through the narrow hall, the wall covered with framed photos of children of all ages. The parlor opened up, homey and decorated with pale hues of pinks and blues. The air smelled like lavender soap, the kind Emilie used to use when she was a young girl.
BREAKING CURSED BONDS Page 6