BREAKING CURSED BONDS

by Elisabeth Zguta

  “Robert isn’t exactly hurting for money, though,” she continued. “Maybe he just wants to make our father squirm over the idea of Rachael dying from the curse? He is so angry. You should have heard him this afternoon, he sounded like he hated Father. If Robert wants Father to suffer…but I don’t understand the reason why he would.”

  Emilie dropped her head in defeat. Jeremy’s brow rose in surprise at the proposed scenarios. “That would be cruel and hateful. Do you think he’s truly that spiteful?”

  A few moments lapsed as she deliberated the question, but she couldn’t see anyone being that evil.

  “We need to get that journal,” Jeremy said suddenly. “We need to finish my uncle’s work and translate the contents. Then we can figure out this mysterious legend of the family curse. Are you with me?”

  “Absolutely. Let’s get it from my father’s library tonight after everyone is in bed.”

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  The clock struck midnight. Father had retired hours ago. Robert had returned to the house and gone up to his room. A dimmed lamp in the front hall that always remained on through the night was the only light. The house was silent except for the occasional tapping, as the walls cooled in the damp spring night. Emilie and Jeremy snuck into the library.

  They slipped in quietly and closed the doors behind them. The floor squeaked. Emilie froze. Her heart was beating like a racehorse in the last lap. They listened, but no one roused. Jeremy turned on the flashlight in his phone and shined it toward Pierre’s antique desk. The gold leafing reflected in the small beam. Emilie pointed up to the bookcase behind it. Right there in plain sight was the gris-gris bag.

  “Look, there’s the hex bag,” she whispered.

  “Don’t touch it,” Jeremy replied. “Let’s just find the journal before someone wakes up, okay?”

  They turned their attention to the other shelves. Scrutinizing the case, they found the journal on the very top. Jeremy was tall enough that he could simply reach up and grab it, bringing it down to the desk with care. It was heavy, and the book landed with a thump. They both went still for another second before Jeremy opened the brittle pages.

  Emilie noticed he was holding his breath. The crackling of the page sounded like dried leaves brushed up against pavement in the wind, reminding her of how fragile and important this book was. On the inside cover was the blue-inked insignia that Jeremy had asked about. She pointed to it and he nodded. He slowly turned the pages. They were written in faint script, dulled with time, and the sketched images had horrific faces of distorted animals.

  Her nerves caved, buried in the intense anguish that emanated from the drawings. She lost her breath for a moment and pulled her arms inward, hugging her body. Dizzy, she wanted to regain control before the feeling consumed her. Emilie closed her eyes and concentrated. She pushed the agony away and shielded her mind.

  A moment later, she opened her eyes. She had forgotten how powerful the images were. Jeremy hadn’t noticed her episode, too engrossed in the book. Relieved, she joined his inspection of the pages.

  “What did your uncle uncover so far in the translations?” she asked him. “Did he tell you what he knew about the journal?”

  Jeremy tilted his head in reverence for his uncle, then answered.

  “He showed me this very book the day he died, but he didn’t tell me much. Only that it’s a story about French seamen, some Florida tribe, and ancient ceremonies that somehow related to his aunt. Thaddeus had fond memories of her from when he was a child. She died shortly after she married and left home. The entire family was upset. I believe Uncle Thad was no more than ten or so when she died, so that means it was the late 1930s or early 1940s.”

  A lump lodged in Emilie’s throat. When her mother died, she had only been ten, too. She understood only too well the effect death had on someone so young.

  “Uncle Thad stumbled across a reference in this journal to the family that his aunt had married into. That’s why he said it held the answers to his quest. He was convinced that she died under mysterious circumstances. I can remember all my life his searching for clues and answers. I loved the old man. He was supportive of me and believed in me when no one else did. And I believed in him, I was the only one who paid any attention to his stories. That’s why he left all his treasures to me, I suppose.”

  Jeremy cleared his throat, caught up in his emotions. “I remember the day he died, he was so excited. I can still see his face all lit up because of this journal. At the pub he was almost dancing.” Jeremy smiled while recalling his memories. “That’s when I noticed that Mr. Pierce gawking at us. I knew then he was bad news.”

  He tapped the book gently with his pointing finger. “Thad said he’d had a breakthrough, and I know this book was it. Unfortunately, it isn’t translated, but I am hoping that together, we can discover the meaning behind it all.”

  Emilie put her hand on his shoulder. “It sounds like Thaddeus was a real character. A caring person too, to never forget your great great aunt.” He nodded, and she continued in a whisper. “Jeremy, when the old woman in New Orleans told us the story about the old magic spell that linked the destiny of two men’s spirits, she was talking about a tribe chief and a great sea captain. Maybe it is connected to the tribe you said was mentioned in this journal?”

  She reasoned for a moment, still working something out in her head.

  “And another weird thing, the women in my father’s family all died young, just like your aunt. You said she died at a young age after marriage. How young? Your uncle’s story sounds like my family’s curse. My mother and the rest all died young, too young. Maybe they’re connected somehow. Maybe your great great aunt married one of my ancestors?”

  Emilie envisioned the puzzle coming together.

  “Her name was Rose Riley,” Jeremy said. “I have to be honest, I don’t remember the name of the family she married into, and I’m not sure of her age at the time, just that she was young and had just been married.”

  Emilie felt the blood rush through her body in her excitement. “Hold on!” she said.

  Jeremy moved his finger to his mouth suddenly, a shadow crossing his face. He hushed her to be quiet, then pointed to the door. There was a thump in the hallway.

  Her pulse raced even faster. She squeezed his arm, then turned to look at Jeremy, his eyes large and alert. He turned off his phone light and they crouched down behind the desk, motionless for a moment. Someone was on the other side of the door. They waited a few seconds, listening. There was a click as someone opened the door, and then a moment later, it closed. All was quiet. Then there was a noise again: the swishing of slippers dragging on the wood floor on the other side of the door. Soon, the sleepwalker’s steps faded away.

  It took several more moments with Emilie’s heart racing, acutely aware of the warmth of Jeremy’s body beside her, before she remembered what she’d been thinking before they were interrupted.

  “Jeremy, about your aunt, well, I remember a mention of a Rose in my family history. I saw the name when researching last week, doing an ancestry search. Let’s go to my room. We can match up our information, and see if they’re connected. Do you think your Great Great Aunt Rose died because she married one of my ancestors?”

  Jeremy didn’t answer. He closed the book and held it tight to his body as they headed out of the room. Emilie opened the doors slowly and peeked out. The hall was empty. They scuttled up the stairs. Closing her bedroom door, she leaned against it and exhaled. Jeremy smiled, his free arm hugged around her shoulder.

  “I could crack all kinds of jokes right now, rushing me up into your bedroom like this. You devil.” His dimples sunk deep as his smile spread. “But, I am too interested in where this aunt business is heading. I can’t even think about having my way with you right now, well, okay, I’m thinking of it a little, but not too much.”

  He laughed low and intimately. Emilie took the book, blushing. “Not now, Mr. Sexpot. But hang on to that thought.”

&n
bsp; She hurried to the desk and opened her laptop. She searched for the folder containing the information from the family-tree web service. Emilie considered the possibilities and smiled.

  The keypad softly tapped under Emilie’s fingertips. Jeremy stood by her side as his gaze roamed the room. Her family was indeed wealthy, not just slightly wealthy, but old-money-and-a-great-deal-of-it wealthy.

  The room revealed much with its original vintage decor. There were gold-gilt frames on the artwork decorating the walls. He recognized some as original Impressionist masterpieces, including a Monet and Degas, right here in her bedroom.

  The Memphis he’d experienced so far had been littered with a host of McMansions owned by newly wealthy Southerners: local corporate executives from major businesses who flaunted their money with large brick estates that sported high ceilings, crown molding, pools with outdoor kitchens flanked by designer lawns and gardens.

  The de Gourgues home was different. The house was older, set apart from the neighbors in the newer estates. Jeremy hadn’t contemplated the implication until now.

  He was hit suddenly by the same feeling he’d had as a boy wearing last year’s track shoes while his well-off friends flaunted their newest trainers in the locker room. Who am I trying to kid? He was in love with an heiress, and what could he offer her? No wonder Robert was concerned.

  Emilie jumped in her seat, pulling him from his trance and back to the computer.

  “Here, look, this is what I mean,” she called out. “There was a Rose Riley who married my Great Great Grandfather de Gourgues. They were only married for a short time. Looks like it adds up to only two weeks by the dates, and then she died. He later married again, and had one child. That would have been my great grandfather. Look, it’s all here on this family-tree diagram. Your uncle’s little mystery about Aunt Rose is right here.”

  She pointed to a spot on the screen, her fair skin paling even further. “It’s all connected to this curse that was placed on my family. Oh my God, Jeremy, it’s true. The curse is real, and it’s touched both our families.”

  She looked up at Jeremy with tears in her eyes, and he saw the terror there. For the first time, he considered the de Gourgues curse as something other than a fantasy dreamed up by this strange yet wonderful woman who’d so quickly captured his heart. What if it is real? He felt a deep need to take her pain away, and stop the curse. Uncle Thaddeus had certainly thought enough of the whole business, he’d spent his entire life searching for an answer. And if the curse was real and Emilie’s brother planned to marry, soon there would be another casualty.

  “Jeremy, we have to finish this. We have to decipher this book,” she said.

  He took a deep breath, reconciling his opinions. “You read my mind.”

  Now that he was considering the idea of the curse being real, the imminent danger of their situation became clear for the first time. Emilie reached up and traced the side of his face with her finger, and his skin tingled from her soft touch. She frowned as she touched his forehead, now wrinkled with worry.

  Jeremy watched her eyes and saw the moxie there. There was no way he could keep her from pursuing the curse, it would never happen. It was too important, and Emilie wanted to finish this no matter what he thought or said. The best he could hope was to go along with her. If they investigated this together, then maybe he could keep her safe.

  “Listen, Em, please don’t take this the wrong way, but this could be dangerous. I think—“

  “Don’t tell me to stay out of this,” she interrupted, showing her first bit of temper. “Not when it concerns my family.”

  Jeremy smiled, shaking his head. I was right, she won’t step out of this. “No, that’s not what I was going to say, Emilie. I know you’re in this until the end. What I’m really concerned about is your brother. I hope you don’t take this the wrong way, I know he’s your family and I hardly know him but, Em, I don’t trust him. I’m afraid that if he knows about this book and that we’re translating it… Well, I am afraid for your safety. I’m not sure why, but there’s no doubt there’s something off about Robert in all this.”

  She gave a heavy sigh, her shoulders slumped. “I know, you’re right. I’m concerned too, that’s why this engagement business is bizarre to me. I’m worried for Rachael. I don’t want her to be hurt by him, and I surely don’t want her to be cursed.”

  He noticed how she weakened with the truth about her brother. It was hard to accept ugly truths about loved ones, he knew. They gradually steered the conversation in other directions, and he sat with her through the night discussing their next move. They planned to go to the local university library, where Emilie could translate the old French script with dictionaries and resources nearby. Then, they would research its history in the anthropology department and find out more about the tribe. It was a beginning to search for the end.

  Emilie yawned. “Excuse me.”

  Jeremy looked at his watch. It was nearly two in the morning, time to leave.

  “I think that’s my cue. Someone needs her beauty sleep, though if you get much more beautiful, I won’t be held accountable for my actions.”

  She smiled, her cheeks coloring lightly. “I guess I am a little tired.” She hesitated. “I don’t… I mean, I don’t want you to leave. Even though we haven’t known each other for long, I like being with you. It’s not about sex, we’re both tired so clearly it wouldn’t be . . .” She stopped, blushing more deeply now.

  Jeremy thought he’d never seen anything quite so endearing.

  “I’m babbling. I just wondered . . .”

  “If I’d stay with you tonight?” he asked. He stepped forward, brushing a hand down her cheek. “Beautiful Emilie, you never have to ask if I want to stay. Give me a few days, and you’ll need to beg me to leave.”

  Tired after the roller coaster of emotions, they fell asleep in Emilie’s bed, embracing each other contently. As they lay in each other’s arms and dreamed, again it all felt so right. Jeremy couldn’t remember why he’d had any doubts. They loved each other. Something dangerous was happening, and he prepared himself to be there to protect Emilie, no matter what.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  The next morning, they went to the university library to translate the journal. Emilie had doubts about her ability to capture the true meaning of the old text but tried her best, hoping the reference materials nearby would assist her efforts. They spent half the day working on the interpretation, and uncovered substantial revelations.

  They monopolized the library table, littered with reference books and dictionaries. Emilie tugged at her dark strands, twisting them around with her fingers as she read the journal and conferred with the reference books. She let the information soak into her mind, and then wrote everything into a simple black spiral notebook. Her worst fears were real: the curse truly had come from that ceremony. This was a new state of weird for her, worse than anything else that had ever invaded Emilie’s mind. Something was creeping into their lives, trying to end her family, and it had to be stopped.

  The author of the journal had given a fanciful account, revealing the events with color and authenticity. The captain had interacted with the local natives, and parlayed with Saturiwa, the Timucua chief. They’d exchanged gifts and come to some agreements. Shortly thereafter, they fought against the Spanish soldiers, their common enemy, together. A celebration and a spiritual ceremony had taken place before the battle. The journal described the event, and how the two men’s spirits were unified.

  They both drank from a shell filled with the white tea, which caused them to sweat profusely and vomit, releasing the sickness that spouted from their mouths, and their souls were cleansed. A circle was drawn in the sand, and magical carved idols in the shapes of a panther and owl were placed in the center of the circle. The tribe believed gods from the spirit world could possess the soul through these idols, known as zemi. They drank a second tea, stronger and more powerful.The Captain trembled and spoke in a strange language, surely
he was possessed. The Timucua Chief held out a sharp knife and spoke loudly in unknown words. The other warriors were now silent, heads bowed. The Chief took the knife and sliced a small wound on his forearm and dripped his blood into a bowl carved in wood that sat in the center of the circle on the ground. The Chief did the same to Captain de Gourgues, slicing his arm and with a firm hold, he squeezed the Captain’s blood so it dripped into the same bowl. Saturiwa added the other tea to the mix and created a potion. Like a witch or shaman priest, he took the bowl from the ground and raised it above his head, speaking loudly in some unearthly language.The clouds covered the moon and stretched the darkness across the sky. The night was eerie and quiet. Then the Chief and the Captain both took turns drinking of the potion. Once the Captain took the drink, he gagged and held his hands to his throat as if he was choking. His eyes grew large and he exploded with pain. His entire body contorted as if he were changing his form. Then the clouds separated and the full moon shone on the Captain and Chief, casting a shadow of their image on the ground. The sky became illuminated as bolts of a lightning storm, appearing from nowhere, chased the shadows.The Captain fell to the ground moaning with a strange sound I had never heard before – it was a growling, monstrous voice, deep, guttural pangs. He sounded like a strange new kind of wild animal, or was this the Devil’s voice spewing from his body?The Chief chanted, and then pulled the Captain to his feet. The two men embraced. All the warriors stood and cheered loudly. The night sky returned to normal. Everyone became serious again, preparing for the next day’s travel and attack against the Spanish.The Chief shouted these words: “Our spirits pledged their lives to each other.”

  Jeremy read over her shoulder, raising his eyebrows.

  “I am trying hard to picture this all in my head,” he said.

  “And it’s hard for me to decide whether the author of the journal was embellishing the events out of his own fear,” she said. “It’s apparent that the two men’s spirits joined in an alliance of some kind. This could well be the beginning of the curse.”