Emilie pointed out the pages of the journal with the drawings and showed him her notes translating the ceremony.
“Very interesting,” Steve said. “It sounds like a ceremony practiced by the Arawak, a Caribbean tribe. There are still descendants left, living up in the hills, where they fled to survive invasions centuries ago.”
“I interviewed a woman who spoke of a legend involving the Timucua, and she mentioned the Arawak tribe in her story. Supposedly they traveled to meet with Saturiwa, a Chief of the Timucua,” she said.
Steve’s face glowed with enthusiasm. “This stuff is my specialty. The Arawak were a very spiritual tribe, and believed in many earthly gods. They were known for their deadly brewed tea, using the cassava, a toxic plant that produces cyanide. Some of the Arawak were enslaved by the Europeans, and many decided to use this potion to commit suicide.” Steve’s words came faster in his excitement. “They preferred death over life as slaves. Can’t say I blame them. Anyway, they thought they’d finally be at peace in their version of heaven. They also believed people could be possessed by these brewed potions and enter the spirit world. But chances were, anyone who took this concoction would die and never come back.”
He took a deep breath and stared at the book again. Emilie grew concerned about his emotional craving to keep it and considered leaving, but she still needed more of his insight. She continued, reading to him the translations about the use of the wooden idols in the hope that he had some insight to offer.
“Some artifacts that have been discovered near ancient middens resemble animals,” he told her. “A common theory is that Timucua people believed owls signified evil. If they used the owl and the panther as idols during the ceremony, then there was probably an evil element to it. The panther would have represented cunning strength. It sounds like the French had no clue what the tribe was really up to, and the whole ordeal probably distressed them quite a bit. Religious people of the day totally feared black magic. If they were truly horrified by this ceremony, they may have believed they were being cursed. They may have brought the bad luck to themselves, through their own magnified imaginations.”
“You mean by believing they were cursed they actually caused the curse?”
“I just mean the power of suggestion is great.” He smiled down at her.
She felt better; his covetous mood seemed to have lifted. Steve bent for a closer look at the hieroglyphics on the page, using a small magnifying glass to scrutinize details.
“I’ve seen something like this before. These drawings are pretty basic representations of animals,” he said. He pointed to one in particular, the one that spooked Emilie the most.
“This drawing here is like a summons to the gods. You need to imagine this from their perspective: they were a polytheistic society, they believed in all kinds of gods. These designs were probably traced in the sand on the ground, an altar of sorts, to help summon those gods. The ceremony was most likely to forge a bond, calling to the spirit of the animals to intervene on their behalf. The author of the journal was just documenting what he saw drawn in the sand, and then he jumped to his own conclusions.”
Steve carefully turned the pages. His face brightened with each new revelation.
“The owl was considered bad luck, so I don’t understand why it was used. To see the two together in a ceremony is unique. I wonder if this ceremony was some type of deception. Maybe they didn’t trust the French and wanted them bound to them, like they were trying to control them by casting this spell.”
The idea made too much sense to Emilie. “Do you think this spell was real, and that Captain de Gourgues and the Chief Saturiwa were joined as one spirit, and linked to each other’s survival? Is it possible?”
Steve looked away and pondered, deep in thought, before he answered. “I do believe it’s possible. You have to remember, these people were close to nature, and very superstitious. They may have had some kind of extrasensory perception that we no longer utilize today. Yes, I think it was possible then . . . and there’s no question that they believed it was.”
Emilie was amazed that the one person she regarded as the most rational and scientific could believe in a curse. She knew firsthand about extrasensory perception, frankly, most days she wished she could just shut it off. Steve read aloud some of her translation:
They uttered words mere men were incapable of understanding. We witnessed our Captain become possessed by a demon. His fiendish voice called out as if he were a wounded animal. The wooden effigies dropped into the center of the circle, and glowed from hell fires. Silence swallowed us, even the frogs of the swamp and the cicada of the trees were still in the void. What was this trickery? There was some kind of black magic being done this night. The Chief bellowed words. What happened here I can only guess, but surely such a supernatural occurrence cannot be blessed. We witnessed something from the spirit world, and I pray my God will forgive me for exposing myself to such blasphemy.
“Emilie, this was serious stuff here, and probably some of the best documentation we can hope to find on this tribe. I really want to keep this book here and study it more thoroughly.”
He was smiling, but an alarm went off in her head once more; his words grated against her better judgment. Emilie covered the book with her hands protectively.
“Sorry, Steve, I told you, this is my friend’s personal property. It can’t be shared with anyone, not yet.”
He took a step back, surprised by her defensiveness. “Sorry, it’s just that it should really be handled properly.”
Her pulse raced, her heart pounding. “You need to keep this a secret. Promise me, Steve. No one can know about this yet. My family’s future is at stake.”
“Whoa, hold on Emilie,” he said.
“I’m serious. No one. Once my friend decides what to do with it, we’ll let you know, I promise. I’m certain he’ll be happy for you to verify the journal’s authenticity, and of course give you the credit, but not until it’s time.”
Steve looked down at the floor, but Emilie could still feel his disappointment. It was all very confusing and seemed far too real.
“I am going to keep bothering you about this, you know,” he said, “and I want to meet this friend of yours.”
His voice sounded intimidating. Time to go. Emilie gathered the journal and her notes in a rush. The room grew stuffy; she felt claustrophobic. She needed to get out of there.
“Goodbye for now, Steve. I have to go.” Emilie hurried out the door and called over her shoulder, “I promise to be in touch soon.”
Once in the corridor, she pushed the button for the elevator. As she stood there waiting, feeling she was being watched. She looked both ways, but didn’t see anyone. Her frustration mounted. She couldn’t wait for the lift any longer. She turned, pulled open the door and took the stairs, scrambling down three flights in the narrow stairwell. The walls seemed to cave in around her, and she was nearly panic-stricken by the time she reached the ground floor. She needed air. Another strange feeling assaulted her as she burst through the door into the front hall entrance. She took deep breaths.
Feeling shadowed, she turned to look down the hallway. Behind her, she saw the same man she’d noticed in the trolley back in New Orleans. Ordinary-looking enough, yet something about him was wrong. No, it can’t be him, it must be a coincidence. She turned to the front doors and bolted from the building. He followed. Is someone after me, or is it the book they want? Who is he? Gasping, she sprinted with a new sense of urgency toward the street.
She realized going to Steve had been a mistake; someone might try to convince him to talk about the book. Suddenly, she felt guilty for putting her old friend in such a precarious situation.
Jeremy pulled his truck up to the curb just as Emilie barreled out of the building. She saw him parked and ran, jumping into his truck. “Hurry. Let’s go,” she said. “I think someone followed me.” She had her hand on her chest, gasping for breath.
“Are you all right?” he said.
“Yes, just get us away from here.”
He pulled away from the curb and drove off.
“Sorry, it might have been my imagination, but I thought someone was following me. Maybe I’m just tired, but I’m not sure why, it’s just that things are getting scary.”
Jeremy drove back to his hotel, keeping his eyes on the road. Emilie noticed his face twitch, his jaw tightened.
“Do you think your brother had you followed?” he said.
“I sincerely hope not. If he did, I have no clue why.” Emilie didn’t say anything about it being the same man who had shadowed her in New Orleans. She didn’t want to add to Jeremy’s worries, particularly when she wasn’t really sure whether it was the same guy or not. Besides, they needed to focus on their next step.
They arrived at the hotel and Jeremy unlocked the door. Emilie was still in emergency mode and pushed past him, then dropped her bundle of paperwork on the desk. Oblivious to her surroundings, the information she’d gathered from Steve ran through her mind.
“Em, listen to me,” Jeremy urged.
She turned when he snapped his fingers.
“Earth to Emilie,” he said.
She smiled despite herself.
“Listen to me,” he continued. “Father Eddie believes in this curse business, too. He thinks our best chance to get rid of this thing is to totally eliminate every trace of the two men and the idols.” He ran his fingers through his hair, and paced while speaking. “That means we need to burn their remains, or rather their bones, until nothing is left, if there are any bones to be found. We need to destroy the wooden effigies, too.”
She wondered once more how a priest could believe in Voodoo and curses, but after everything she’d experienced with Father Eddie in New Orleans, she didn’t question it. Emilie stood up and blocked Jeremy’s pacing. He stopped. She gazed into his eyes, searching to see if he really believed all this mess now.
“Eddie’s idea is better than no plan at all,” she said. “I agree the effigies definitely need to be destroyed.”
“Yes, well that’s all fine, but we have a lot of research to get on with to discover their resting spots.”
She returned to the desk, pulled back her hair, and twisted it into a ponytail, thinking faster than she spoke. “Then let’s get to work. We’ll start the fire and burn the bones!” She laughed.
Jeremy shook in agreement, biting his lower lip.
“Most important of all, though, we need to destroy that wooden owl,” she said. “I have a feeling it was the channel that infused the ceremony with evil.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Emilie and Jeremy spent the next few days clearing their desks and workload, even into the weekend, with spare time spent exploring the possible burial sites. Emilie promised to keep it to herself, and Jeremy had no one to share the plans with except Father Eddie. They used Jeremy’s hotel room as a place to work, and he switched his room a few times, being careful just in case someone decided to break in again or maybe plant a bug while they went out for food and coffee, they had become that paranoid, and were taking no chances. The Peabody Hotel was very accommodating after the episode with Mr. Pierce, and Jeremy got a questioning eye only once.
Tuesday evening, barely a week after being officially introduced to Emilie, the two worked together in his room. Jeremy sat at the table, with many books scattered about, which he used to research the possible burial locations. He was jotting down important information in his laptop. He stopped for a moment and rubbed his tired, itching eyes, then raised his head and gazed over at Emilie. She sat on his bed with a book in her hand. Her long legs were folded, knees bent to support the thick volume. He watched as she did that habit of hers, twisting her hair. She always played with her stray strands, or pulled her hair back when she was nervous. Jeremy loved watching her. He smiled to himself, remembering it was exactly one week since he’d interrupted her argument with Robert.
True, he hadn’t known her long, yet he was comfortable in her company, as if they had been friends since birth. They worked well together, too. He enjoyed the quiet company as they sat in his room reading, sharing pertinent information that they stumbled across. She inspired him, but at the same time tested his patience. She seemed bent on saving the world, which was endearing, but also meant he had to share her attention. He wasn’t sure where this quest was leading them, but he knew he wanted to be there with her, and protect her. Drawn to her, he hated that such a beautiful woman was plagued with so much negativity in her life. With that contemplation, he felt the need to say something.
“Em,” he said.
She looked up from the page she had been reading. “Yes?”
“With all this secrecy going on, well… I know you love your brother and the rest of your family…but I don’t trust Robert. What can we do to keep him from finding out what we’re doing?”
“Don’t worry about him. I’ve been careful when he’s around,” she said.
“Then what’s the story you’ll be giving him once we start our trek?” Jeremy pursued.
“I’ve got a great, spur-of-the-moment vacation planned. Didn’t you know?” She laughed.
He smiled, captured by her eyes. When she was happy, her face lit up and her eyes enlivened, like a spirited child looking at the world in awe. He hated that there were supernatural forces in the world that took that innocence away from her. The thought brought him back to some news he’d learned earlier that day, news he knew he had to share. It might as well be now.
“Em, I know we’ve talked about your brother, but I’m also concerned about Mr. Pierce.”
She put down her book to listen.
“He’s a threat, too. I called the courthouse this morning before you arrived. It seems as soon as he was arraigned, he was out on bail, just as we feared. He paid in cash, so there’s no trail to follow. Then I was told that Pierce talked his way out of the charges altogether. He had some hotshot lawyer do a backroom deal, and the man doesn’t have to go back. All charges dropped. Now he’s gone with the wind.”
“That’s not good,” she said. “Don’t worry, we’ll find him somehow. Maybe we should hire a detective.”
“Maybe, but first we have to get a handle on finding the burial sites. Look at what I configured here.”
Emilie rose from the bed and joined Jeremy at the table, which was up against the window. The sunlight glared across the screen, so she bent over and pivoted the screen of the laptop until she could see it clearly. Jeremy caught a whiff of her perfume; she smelled like jasmine. It was a gentle fragrance that suited her well. He moved the books and papers, and leaned over to pull a second chair near his, for her to sit.
“Look,” he said when she was seated. “I’ve been inputting information from the historical data available of the area where the Timucua tribe resided back in 1565. The original fort was built here, at the mouth of the May River near Jacksonville, Florida, now it’s called St Johns River.”
He pointed to a spot on a map. Emilie bent her head to see, and then nodded for him to continue.
“Then I added the descriptions in the journal, hoping the burial midden for Chief Saturiwa was close to the tribe’s reported area. From there, I added information from these historical accounts documented by the settlers and missionaries.”
Jeremy clicked a few more keys on the computer as he finished his thoughts. “I’m aware that the scenery descriptions must be significantly different from today’s landscape, so here’s my brilliant solution.”
“What are you up to?” she said.
He was a bit nervous suddenly, and hoped this was going to work. Not just because he wanted to impress her, he honestly had no other ideas about how to locate the secret midden. That jasmine scent washed over him again, as her leg brushed against his. She had wonderful legs: long and shapely, with slender ankles and… Stop! Cursing himself internally, he cleared his throat, and continued with the subject at hand.
“It’s a simulation program tha
t I helped develop while doing contract work with Halcrow for the (NCERM) project, National Coastal Erosion Risk Mapping. Our team did the work for England and Wales. Anyway, I mapped the distinguishable points into the program, and estimated possible locations for the tribal burial site today, using an erosion reversal simulation. Look.”
He pushed the last button and locations popped up in a list. He quickly reviewed them and deleted positions that were obviously not good candidates, like Tick Island, another midden had been found there already, but the location was too far south for Saturiwa’s tribe.
“Now let’s zero in on the best possibilities for that area, in present day. The results lead us to this refuge area here.” He pointed to a map. ”It’s a natural preserve. The grave may still be undisturbed after all these years, since it’s in a protected area.”
“Wow, this is magnificent,” she said. Emilie turned to face him and gave him a big smack on the lips. “You’re so smart!”
Jeremy was pleased with himself, and smiled back. She kissed him again, this time on his forehead. He got another chance to smell her when she drew close, her breast at eye level as she reached up to place her warm lips on his head. His blood rushed. He ached to take her to bed and have his way with her, but he knew it wasn’t the right time. There was still so much to do. Hoping that all this work would fix her problems, he resigned to drop his fantasy, and follow the lead as quickly as possible. Maybe then they could concentrate on themselves.
“Okay, I’m booking us on a flight to Jacksonville. We’ll leave first thing tomorrow morning. Sorry, it’s coach.” Jeremy cracked a smile.
“That’s fine by me. Here’s hoping for the best.” Emilie held up a glass of water and tapped it against his bottle of Coke. “I’ll call Father Eddie, so that at least one person knows where we are.”
“Good idea. He would never give our true intentions away, especially to your brother. Tell him that our story is a short vacation on the beach,” he said. “I wish it wasn’t just a ruse.”
BREAKING CURSED BONDS Page 15