“She had no sooner said these words than Jean’s body flattened out and began to merge with the canvas, which was now no longer blank but began to fill in as Jean’s body sank more and more into it, becoming a beautiful portrait of himself against an idyllic Italian Renaissance background. He was still alive, barely, trapped now in a static, immovable, two-dimensional prison, a fabulous painting whose beauty was marred only by the screaming evident in his eyes.
“‘There,’ she said, ‘now that’s done, I can turn my full attention to you, Edmond and you can trust me when I say that your fate will not be pleasant.’
“The sight that was not my sight returned quickly to the room in which I was being held captive and I saw myself still from her eyes, frozen in the chamber, clasping the cane tightly, my eyes closed, not breathing, looking more like a wax figure in a museum than the living human being I knew myself to be.
“‘Do you see what your meddling has done? You have cost me my poor Jean. We were together for many decades, he and I. He was one of my very favorites and now he is gone because of you. You took someone of mine, Edmond. I suppose you think that I will now take someone of yours, but you would be wrong. I will take everyone. I will take everyone that you have ever loved, ever befriended, past, present, and future!’
“My vision now shifted again and instead of myself, I now saw her, almost as if I were looking through my own eyes. While tears had actually been running down that monster’s cheeks over her loss of Jean, in that split second, she began to laugh at me, an cold, evil, hysterical laugh that revealed how insane she really was and how very little hope I truly had of ever escaping. She then began to question me and I realized that her assertion that the second amulet had been found was nothing more than an educated guess. As she probed my mind, I could feel her gloat over finding for a fact that she’d been right. To my horror, I realized that she was also correct in saying that I would tell her everything, although it was in no way by my own will. She got into my mind and literally ripped from it everything she wanted. She found out about Christopher and Freddie, she found out about the Institute which we had founded. I was suddenly thankful that I had lost so much interest in all my other involvements when I became obsessed with New Orleans, for it meant that my information was outdated. What I did not know, she did not know. I realize now that it was the only way that the Trust was able to survive. Before I left England, I’d become dismissive of everything and everyone else during my obsession with New Orleans, so much so that whenever I was introduced to someone new, I took scant notice of them and did not remember them. While they must have thought me terribly rude, it was this preoccupation that saved their lives in the end.
“She first tormented me by killing everyone I loved. She killed all of my friends, my father, my sister Elizabeth. While everyone else thought it was sickness or natural causes, Rochere made sure that I knew it was she who had murdered them. No one that I knew was safe. The only reason that Virginia survived that massacre is because even she was my servant. Rochere refused to acknowledge Virginia’s emancipation and thus thought of her as being nothing more than my slave. As such Rochere could not be bothered with Virginia, for her prejudice against slaves was such that she considered Virginia to be chattel only, nothing more than my property. As a woman of immeasurable wealth, Rochere never took any real interest in any of my money or property except for my house on Toulouse Street, and that was merely to gain access to the second relic. In that she failed, thank God, for when she killed Christopher, the box and its relic joined their now-empty mate, all hiding themselves from her and anyone she might send to find them. She had the house on Toulouse Street ransacked many times, but she never did find the boxes. It was their duty to keep her and her underlings ignorant of their whereabouts. They were highly intelligent and intuitive, so much more than mere inanimate objects. I realize now that the only reason the boxes allowed themselves to be separated at all is because the pieces inside knew that Christopher and I were working together and planning to reunite them soon. They knew that our motive in separating them was to keep them safe in case one of our ships sank, for if only one were safe on land, the other would always be able to rejoin it.
“Soon after Rochere had finished off my family and those close to me, she became increasingly bored with her initial interest in making what could only now jokingly be called my life miserable. Only then did she begin to leave me alone to rot in that metallic dungeon of hers. The complete sensory depravation was an utter nightmare, knowing I was trapped and unable to leave. The overwhelming claustrophobia of being caged, not only in the chamber but also within my own body, was horrific. I know I would have lost my mind completely had it not been that I soon discovered that my mind was no longer confined within itself. With a little effort, I could now reach out to other minds, albeit in a very limited capacity. In an effort to keep sane, I kept myself busy with this endeavor, finding that, with practice, it became easier and easier, and my mind’s reach became greater and greater. At first I was only able to connect with Rochere. Her thoughts were incredibly disturbing. Also, I only could only keep that connection alive for short intervals before she would discover I was linked to her and punish me for it. I soon discovered exactly how long I could link to her without her knowing it; whenever she was distracted or engaged in conversation, I found I could keep the connection going longer than when she was at rest. The longest connections, however, were when she was asleep, for she dreamed vividly and often. At the same time, I kept trying to communicate with other minds, those of anyone else, in hopes of finding someone who would free me. One day, it just happened. My mind linked with that of Virginia, who was somehow still living at my house. I wondered all this time how she’d been able to stay there following my disappearance, finding out just now that it was because of the Trust, which stepped in to take ownership anonymously only a short time thereafter.
“It took me several weeks not only to strengthen the connection with her, but also to convince her that I was still alive, being held prisoner, that I was neither dead nor a construct of her imagination. I’m sure that I could communicate with her only because she had handled my amulet’s box in between Arrosha’s searches many times after my disappearance, hoping for a clue to my whereabouts. In communicating with her this way, I also found out that the second relic had arrived inside its box as soon as Christopher was killed. It had simply appeared one night. When her thoughts turned to me as she wondered whether I was alive or dead, the amulet transformed itself into a necklace for her.
“Our communication became stronger after that and I asked her to put on the necklace amulet, which she did. Immediately afterward, I felt a change in the energies emanating from the relic that was my cane’s headpiece. My mental connection with her increased a hundredfold. I feared that Rochere would surely have picked up on this change, for it was strong, but it seemed hidden from her for awhile. I’d already figured out about how long it would normally take for her to pick up on it, so when Virginia and I were in mental link, I kept the communiqués short. It was during this period I also learned how to block Rochere from my mind; I could never do it when her full attention was on me, only when she was simply scanning, which she did often. I told Virginia where to look for the hidden door to the building that was the entrance to Rochere’s lair and was later to become an entranceway to what she would come to call The Crypt. I knew my good friend would come to rescue me. At first Virginia sought the help of others, but while she was able to see the door, no one that ever came with her could. I realized then that it was only the amulet which gave her that special sight. She also began to follow Rochere and one evening she followed her to one of the gala events that my former social set threw all too frequently and realized that this was the time in which to act, for Rochere would be busy for quite a few hours. Virginia walked through the door, through the tunnel and into the room where I was being held prisoner. I thought that surely I would be free soon, but I watched in horror as several of Roc
here’s followers who had lain in wait grabbed Virginia from behind. One of them tore the necklace from her, the other slit her throat. It seems Arrosha had the house watched and Virginia followed. She’d given her goons access to the essence with promises of more. It allowed them access to the room without her.
“It seemed only seconds after the henchmen killed Virginia that Rochere arrived. She laughed with glee and conquest, gloating that she finally had possession of the second piece. The evil one thought that once it was safely stowed away, she would now have her freedom, for it took both of the pieces together to destroy her. Her laugh turned into a scream of rage as the necklace piece disappeared, even as her follower held it up for her to see. She killed both men for their efforts and, with a burst of rage and fire, incinerated their bodies.
Virginia, who was now thankfully dead, Rochere entombed in the metal wall to my right, as a warning, she said, against my ever trying to escape again. She increased her watch on my communications at that point and it became virtually impossible for me to talk to the people I called. Once again she tortured me mentally until her anger waned. My mind made me feel this torture physically, as real as if it were actually happening. At the same time, she tormented me emotionally by forcing me to relive the deaths of Virginia and all my other dear ones until she eventually became bored with her sadistic pleasures once again.
“After a long time, she lost interest in me again, leaving me alone for decades this time. I spent my time working on the powers of my mind, so enhanced by the machine which held me captive and the talisman, which was held prisoner with me. Slowly I became able to contact certain people through their dreams, sometimes even drawing them to New Orleans, strangers I had never before met. I didn’t know why I could reach some and not others. There was little progress at first as decades slipped by and she too easily disposed of those I’d called. Then, after the century mark passed, I was able to contact Marcus. Virginia may have been helping me before then, but it was only with Marcus that I realized that Virginia had been helping me all along. I didn’t know how it was possible for her to seem to come alive again for short periods of time, except that when she did, she was bound to my house and courtyard and could not leave it.
“Rochere got wind that Marcus had the other amulet, which, with him, took the form of a heavy charm, much as it did with Max. Rochere decided that Marcus would not enter her dungeon as easily as Virginia had. It was then that she created a crude version of a bar in the empty room, dubbing it The Crypt, and since he had never seen her before, Rochere set herself up as barmaid. Marcus was a young and hearty, often boasting fellow, able to out-drink the strongest man. He’d had nothing else to drink that night and took only a sip to bolster his courage for what was to come. It took her fluorescent cocktail longer to hit him than it did you, Ashley, and when it did, he had already found me in the stasis chamber. Rochere destroyed him in the vortex, which was always strongest when it was in her lair. The amulet grew its chain around his neck for extra support, but she had too strong a hold on him. The dragon could not break him free as it did you and by the time he had escaped that vortex, he was dead from its efforts. She mounted him into the wall to my left, facing Virginia and then began her now-predictable cycle of torture and torment until, once again, she became bored. Long years once more passed. No one I called was very successful, for Virginia was never able to tell a player outright much of what was going on, what to do and what not to do. Virginia tried at first, but Arrosha always cut her short before torturing me horribly for my friend’s efforts.
“After Virginia, it took me decades to re-energize. It was the same with Marcus. Whenever those I called failed, Rochere would connect with me, maliciously bragging about their failures and inevitable demise. It took her long to realized that the deaths of those I called who died early on did not drain me nearly as much as those who made it till the end; for a long time, all she understood was that their deaths were easier on and for her.
“In the meanwhile, I was getting better and better at what I was doing, and when my energies returned to their full strength, I called Zachary, a good man who found out the secret to her mirror and pool. When she killed him as well, she placed him next to Marcus in the wall. I came to realize that her ability to make me see what she wanted me to see was limited to her lair. It was why she always brought my champions there at the end.
“Experience eventually taught my friends and I how to sense when the witch was not listening in very hard, which was during her dormant time for rest or when she was feeding. That was when they learned that they could give the new people I called clues and hints without getting me into too much trouble.
“Then came Max and I thought the others were familiar enough with Arrosha’s game to be able to help him. I had finally found someone who had the athletic skill to free me before she could get to him. But after each near-success, she would up the difficulty level of her sick game and with Max she added her mansion with its seductions. But Max did not drink the water or take of the essence, for she had not yet discovered how to make her undead last long enough to use them for sabotage; his weakness, instead, was that he fell in love with one of her followers. When she threatened him with his lover’s life, he handed over the amulet in an attempt to save Gizelle’s life, but Rochere, giddy with assurance that she had, this time, won, betrayed him and killed his lover brutally anyway. Rochere’s victory was short-lived, though, for once again, the piece disappeared back into its box and it was then she discovered that torturing or threatening a loved one was not the same as seduction or trickery. The amulet considered forced coercion to be on the same par as torture of its actual wearer. Truly enraged by that revelation, Rochere then destroyed that entire group of her followers.
So as Virginia, in her death, was tied to the apartment, so Marcus became tied to the streets around The Crypt and Zachary became tied to the mirror. Max hadn’t died, so he became instead her slave to do with as she pleased. She abused him horribly. I am so grateful that he redeemed himself at the last and I pray that he makes it.”
After Edmond had finished this part of his story, he told us that he needed to rest for a few days. He and I did nothing for two days after that except get to know each other, making sure we kept the conversation as light as possible. It was on the third day that he told me to send for Julian, that he was ready to resume his story.
The Chronicle of the Deceased Deity
As we sat down near his bed, Julian asked him, “Did you ever find out what she was, Edmond? Surely she was supernatural. An evil entity of some sort? A fallen angel, perhaps?”
“No, she was none of those,” Edmond answered. “Arrosha was simply a delusional psychopath whose madness led her into imagining herself to be a deity. Her people, the Illeaoceans, gave her great gifts, very real gifts that she misused badly after the destruction of Pangaea.”
“Do you mean the transformations she performed?” I asked. “They seem to be permanent. I’ve checked on the others and while they’re not awake yet, not one person has changed back since her destruction.”
“The transformation was just one of the gifts. All of her seeming miracles were the result of technologies given to her, actually built into her by her people. The Illeaoceans mostly used the transformation, an expensive procedure, in a limited fashion for internal organs and nerves, in the treatment of injury and disease.
“For a few privileged people, however, such as the very rich and those deemed indispensable to society, such as top scientists, for example, they used this transfiguration, which worked, however, at a considerably slower pace, almost as extensively as Arrosha did with her followers. These people promoted it for extreme longevity and lived enormously long life spans. Able to slow aging to a near stop, eventually even the transformations stopped working and it became time for them to create new bodies. That’s when the stasis chambers came into play. The Illeaoceans invented techniques for growing new bodies that would serve as blank templates. Until these new b
odies were ready, they slept in the stasis chambers. Then they downloaded the minds and personalities of the scientists, statesmen and the very wealthy into their mindless clones. It made important Illeaoceans virtually immortal, one of the things that their enemies feared most about them.
“Arrosha didn’t really need the essence and the water for the transformations, but she used the essence to keep her followers in optimum health, and the water to keep them under control. However, its real purpose was to set the stage to trick you, Ashley. Regardless of what excuse she used, the fact was that she could not transform you suddenly like she did the others. It was not in her power because you wore one of the amulets, both of which were designed and built by the Illeaoceans to be impervious to the technology they had built into her.”
“She was able to transform me gradually, though, and make me younger.”
“Because you wore the amulet, her technology alone could never have effected those changes,” Edmond replied. “For that she had to rely on black magic, which she introduced into the water system specifically to wipe your memories so that she could trick you into joining her followers.”
“Edmond,” I asked. “Did she create that weird world, the one I saw when I stepped through the second and third door? It all felt so real.”
“I know. Her nightmare dimension was enough to fool anyone. All I can tell you is that it wasn’t the same kind of reality to which we’re all accustomed. It was one in which matter was more fluid, more changeable, more malleable, one in which whatever she desired manifested.
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