Risen an Arelia LaRue Novel #8 Read online

  RISEN

  AN ARELIA LARUE NOVEL #8

  You may trod me in the very dirt

  But still, like dust, I'll rise.

  Just like moons and like suns,

  With the certainty of tides,

  Just like hopes springing high,

  Still I'll rise.

  Still I Rise

  MAYA ANGELOU

  It’s Friday. Pilate’s struggling. The council is conspiring. The crowd is vilifying. They don’t even know, that Sunday’s comin’.

  It’s Friday. He’s hanging on the cross. Feeling forsaken by his Father. Left alone and dying. Can nobody save him?

  Ooooh, it’s Friday. But Sunday’s comin’.

  It’s Friday. The earth trembles. The sky grows dark. My King yields his spirit.

  It’s Friday. Hope is lost. Death has won. Sin has conquered. And Satan’s just a laughin’.

  It’s Friday. Jesus is buried. A soldier stands guard. And a rock is rolled into place. But it’s Friday. It is only Friday.

  Sunday is a comin’!

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter One

  Still I Rise on a Sunday

  Supernatural light filtered through the iron bars casting a golden shine on the muddy earth below me. “You’ve been here before,” I said as my eyes opened and closed. Honestly, I had no idea where I was, however, I was more than confident that I had certainly been in more dangerous circumstances. Or had I been? Despite all of the horrors that I had witnessed, none of them were quite as dramatic as this strange, empty prison that I found myself in. I glanced to my right, and to my left. My eyes were met with rows and rows of blazing torches which were covered in strange tribal symbols. Their soft glow illuminated cold, hard shackles which were identical to the ones I found myself in. The fact that there were no other prisoners aside from me, made the whole situation even creepier.

  I sniffed the air hoping for a whiff of a familiar scent, something, anything that would tell me that I was in my beloved state of Louisiana. Sadly, the air was ripe with uncertainty rather than beignets, sunshine and magnolias.

  I should have been worried about how I would break free from the rusty chains I found myself in or how I would explain away the room of skulls that I had found in Lucus’ attic. Of course, my mind wandered down dark, shadowy paths and raced with scenarios which all had morbidly gruesome outcomes. Lucus was a violent psychopath who lured innocent tourists to Darkwood plantation only to chop off their heads. I had been lead astray this whole time and his devotion for me was based on a more sinister agenda, but what?

  He was really a vampire. A ghoul. A zombie. A cyborg. A gin. Maybe he had been lying all along and could really leave the plantation. The worse case scenarios ran through my head. The worst one was that Lucus only pretended to love me. That despite all of my progress, I was essentially unlovable, unworthy and every bad thing I believed about myself was true. I deserved hell-fire, brimstone and the seven deadly plaques that Moses cursed upon the stubborn and once mighty Pharaoh. The Plagues song from The Prince of Egypt suddenly popped into my head.

  I send a pestilence and plague

  Into your house, into your bed

  Into your streams, into your streets

  Into your drink, into your bread

  Upon your cattle, on your sheep

  Upon your oxen in your field

  Into your dreams, into your sleep

  Until you break, until you yield

  I send the swarm, I send the horde

  Thus saith the Lord

  “No!” I screamed. “No! Just don’t!” From all of my experience, I was now wise enough to know that song lyrics didn’t simply pop into your head for no reason. They were sent as warnings, as guidance and sometimes as some much needed wisdom. This song was definitely a warning of what was to come and I wasn’t ready for any more bloodshed.

  “No, don’t walk that line,” I muttered. “You’ve got to get to the mountain top, not sink into the valley of despair again.” Oh but the valley of despair was such an easy and comfortable place to go. Climbing the damn mountain was hard and not many people were capable of making that particular journey. It was much easier living the life we wanted to live, the one that was safe, secure, hidden rather than the one we were meant to live. Giving the hopeless and defeated sound advice was easy but believing it and putting it into action was a whole other story.

  My hair was a matted mess and my arms were covered in dirt, bugs and clumps of moss. My once clean silk nightgown was a torn, muddy disaster. “Such a waste,” I lamented over the fact that the delicate lace was now destroyed. When I had started to care about the state of lace, I couldn’t quite say, it was such a comforting material. It reminded me of home. I needed to get home and home was Lucus.

  It suddenly occurred to me that somehow, the harder I tried to rise, the heavier the chains felt. I thought of Kandal and how he must of felt when he was but I wasn’t going to revert back to victim mode. “Just like moons and like suns, with the certainty of tides, just like hopes springing high, still I'll rise!” I shouted into the darkness. My voice, a loud boom reverberated off of the prison walls. Sadly, it was met with the most tortuous response in the world, utter silence.

  For an eleventh grade science project, I had done a study on the impact of silence on the human psyche. I vividly remember presenting my findings to the class and to a very bored Mr. Murray who kept sneaking glances at his phone. He was a thirty something hipster with an overgrown beard and was clearly bored to death with his job. “Studies have found that the silent treatment, even if it’s brief, activates the anterior cingulate cortex – the part of the brain that detects physical pain. The initial pain is the same, regardless of whether the exclusion is by strangers, close friends or enemies.” That once random scientific fact proved to be more than true as the seconds turned into minutes and then extended into hours. I could literally feel my anterior cingulate cortex crying out in anguish along with the rest of my weary bones. I envisioned myself taking a bath in Darkwood’s luxurious bathroom and imagined my body in the safe cacoon of a fluffy white towel. Sadly, the vision was interrupted with that of skulls.

  “Come on, I know I’m supposed to read into all these deep spiritual tests that are tossed my way on a daily basis, but is it possible that you please give a girl a break? I’m supposed to be a Queen and all, but, you know, I’m still just a girl. A girl who has found out that the love of her life may be a violent murderer who passes his time beheading people! Can you grasp how gross that concept is? How many nerves and tissues are connected between the neck and the head, and that is how is passes his time, chopping up those connections. The least you can do is tell me why the hell I’m in chains! And why you brought me here and why I found all of those skulls… And…”

  Admittedly, the questions were endless; however, what was the point of having a spirit if it was too afraid to ask questions? I wanted to beg Erzulie to save me as she often did in times such as these, however, something deep within my soul told me that I couldn’t fully trust her. Everyone had their own agen
da including her. She was capable of much more creative means of torture than mere beheading, what if she was the one who was making Lucus behead and who knows what else?

  Yes, it was a little immature of me to be constantly thinking about a boy at a time like this all while there was mass chaos all around me, however, emotions were fluid, alive and couldn’t be turned off because of inconvenient circumstances that was a lesson that I had learned the hard way. “Bade? Are you around? It’s me, silly and then not so silly, Arelia. Things are confusing right now and I don’t know who or what to trust. I’ve always pretended to be strong for everyone around me. I’ve pretended for Grand-mere Bea, for Sabrina when I thought we were besties, my co-workers, flies, the milk man, the person in line next to me. Everyone. I’ve let others bound me, punish me, possess me, oppress me, suppress me, and repress me, but damn it, now it is time for me to rise!” I was saying those words out loud because they were positive affirmation which I was told was well positive.

  I used to believe that everything was by chance. Random. That the life I lived was exactly as I saw it in the physical realm. I had been certain that money was the solution to all of my problems. I used to believe that the harder I worked at Lola’s or at Darkwood, the more I saved, the harder I tried to please everyone that life would somehow fall into place. Clearly, some lessons even a Queen has to learn the hard way. A flashback hit me and I was transported back to the day after Sabrina had gotten her driver’s license. The air was hot and sticky. It was summer time and the living was easy, a warm wind swept through my overgrown hair as we sped down the shady oak lined street with its extravagant mansions, gardens and gates. I inhaled the sweet scent of jasmine and magnolias along with the sugary scent of Sabrina’s strawberry lip balm, and felt the sweat as it formed on my forehead. “Dieu, this is so damn delicious,” I said as I took a long sip from my iced extra chocolate latte. It was one of those days, you know, one of those rare days when all of your dreams and ideas seemed possible despite the fact that you had bills to pay and ugly blisters on your feet from working way too many overtime shifts. It felt a lot like Christmas morning without the mind numbing carols or angry, deal hungry shoppers.

  “Agreed,” said Sabrina taking a sip from her non-fat, sugar free latte. I admired her perfectly blonde blow dried hair and crisp pastel pink sundress and tried not to compare my grease stained Lola’s uniform to her designer outfit. It was hard not to compare though, and I hated myself for doing so. Grand-mere Bea always reminded me that comparing myself to others was basically telling Bon Dieu that He had made a mistake in creating me the way He had, so I brushed off my insecurity and joined her as she sang Summertime.

  Summertime, and the livin' is easy

  Fish are jumpin' and the cotton is high

  Oh, your daddy's rich and your ma is good-lookin'

  So hush, little baby, don't you cry

  “Speaking of rich, guess which family is close to rivaling my own daddy in terms of wealth?”

  “Do fill me in,” I said taking another sip of my latte. “I’m not exactly filled in on the wealthiest of the wealthy. They all kind of look the same when you’re filling up their champagne glasses at catering events,” I said remembering the extra gig I had picked up last weekend. The champagne was endless as was the conversation about investments and all things shiny, material and really expensive.

  “The Bernard’s,” she said excitedly.

  “Oh them.” My body froze at the mention of that name and dread at what she was going to say next.

  “Josh is so hot. I know that he’s like totally taken and has half of the town over him, however, like we both know, they aren’t any competition for yours truly.” She chirped on excitedly about the color of Josh’s sandy blond hair, his sea-green eyes and six pack that was carved by the hands of Dieu Himself. “He’s such a gentleman though that’s what I love about him. He’s going to spoil me rotten and I can boss him around. Sabrina Marie Ana-Louisa Richards Bernard. Father Pedro will baptize our twins. Oh, I’ll know we’re going to have twins. Arelia, you’ll be their Godmother/nanny,” she said it so casually as if I didn’t have any higher ambitions than repeating the same cycle my ancestors had been caught in for centuries.

  Whenever she made snide, Sabrina-like comments, I often reminded myself that it was her color and status that made her that way. She didn’t have any other frame of reference and I couldn’t judge her for that. Instead, of holding it against her, I repeated Maya Angelou quotes from the poems that Grand-mere Bea had read to me since birth. “Just like moons and like suns, with the certainty of tides, just like hopes springing high, still I'll rise,” I muttered under my breath. Grand-mere Bea always reminded me that words were power as Bon Dieu did create the entire universe from His words. I wasn’t sure if I quite bought that fact, but the more I recited the poem, the less insensitive Sabrina’s words seemed.

  “What do you think?” Sabrina asked after finally reciting all of the reasons why her and Josh were a match made in Garden District heaven.

  I didn’t want to say what I had to say next, but given the fact that she was getting ready to have his babies I had to interrupt. “Sabrina, I don’t think Josh is as innocent as he appears.”

  She rolled her eyes and fluttered her mascara coated lashes. “Sex, Arelia. We all have sex. So he has sex with his girlfriend and who knows what other creature, but once he puts a ring on it, he’ll have to curve whatever depraved appetite he has. I’ll make sure of that.”

  “I catered a party at his parent’s home last weekend and he asked me out.” The words came out quick. I regretted saying them as soon as they slipped out of my mouth.

  Sabrina laughed. As she slowed down the car and turned down the Ella tune that had lightened the air. “Tell me more,” she smiled and fluttered her lashes.

  There was a sinking feeling at the pit of my stomach. It was something that I hadn’t ever felt before. “It wasn’t a big deal. I was serving some crawfish fritters and I was clumsy, the platter fell on the floor, he was awfully nice and helped me clean it up. We talked a bit in the kitchen and he asked me to go with him to the Whitaker’s Ball. Of course, I turned him down because he has a girlfriend and I don’t want to get involved.”

  “And then what happened?” she asked.

  “Well, he said that he’s had a crush on me since third grade. I know it doesn’t make any sense because we don’t even go to the same school or hang out in the same circles…”

  For a few seconds Sabrina just stared at me and a subtle twitch developed at the side of her cheek. Suddenly, she sped up the car full speed ahead. My head spun as we passed bushes, gates and convientantly avoided hitting a postman.

  “God, Arelia. I am so tired of your lies. Do you really expect me to believe that Josh Bernard asked you out?”

  “That’s what happened.” I shrugged hoping that she would slow down the car already. Instead, she sped it up faster.

  “With your frizzy hair, chipped nails and all, you want me to believe that he asked you out? He has all the richest and prettiest girls in town on speed dial and he asked you? And to top off the cherry sundae, he’s had a crush on you since the third grade? You? God, you’re embarrassing yourself. Look, the truth is, he doesn’t know you exist, no one in this town knows that you exist. No one. I know everyone and your name is never mentioned at any given time and under any circumstances. The truth is, I only put up with you because I pity you and well, you’re like old furniture. I already put up with you mumbling to invisible spirits and Dieu knows what else… Crazy, Arelia, you’re bat shit crazy that is what you are. Your poor Grand-mere, Dieu how does she do it? There must have been a reason why your own parents abandoned you.”

  My mouth opened, but words wouldn’t come out. I simply stared at her. Her face had an unrecognizable look to it, the only word I could think of was jealousy, but her words didn’t match her expression. They were hurtful and if it had been any other person, I would have told her off, however, hearing shocking
words from those you believe have your best interests at heart doesn’t often involve rage, it illicits dread and helplessness. “Sabrina, slow down the car,” I begged as she swerved to avoid hitting Mrs. Robson and her pink toy poodle.

  “No! I’m going to drive over to Josh’s house right now and clear this up. You’re lying, Arelia. You’re lying and it’s worrying, it’s worrying because I hear the things you say when no one is looking. My parents have the best therapists in town, they can help.”

  “Sabrina, I’m not lying. That’s what happened.”

  “Look, that’s not what happened. I know Josh, I know his family and I know exactly the type of girls he likes and they are not you!”

  She was driving faster and faster, her face was beet red and for the first time ever I was terrified of her. “You’re right, Sabrina. I must have gotten confused,” I said quickly knowing that they were the only words that would calm her down. She was being irrational and I didn’t know what to do aside from swallowing what little pride I had. They were the magic words that cooled her temper. She slowed down the car and turned the music back up.

  “Let’s try that new bistro?”

  “Yeah, sure.” I said finishing up my latté. My heart was racing madly and my head was in a cloud of confusion and betrayal. I should have told her off and demanded that she drive me home, but my entire body felt perfectly numb. After lunch she dropped me off at home. She gave me a big veneered smile and acted as if everything was sugary as the pecan pie that we had devoured for dessert.

  I ran to my bedroom and fell to my knees at the base of bed. The tears that I had held in came down like a flood. The worst part of it all was that I couldn’t explain why I felt the way I did or put a finger on what had happened. I couldn’t explain it in a logical way. All I knew was that my soul ached and I felt helpless, utterly helpless. As snappy and sassy as I was to the outside world, I never let many people see this side of me. The side that at times felt like an abandoned orphan child who was completely on her own. An orphan that was never loved enough and would take any scraps of affection even if that meant letting others say and do things to you that were unacceptable.