Punished Arelia LaRue Book #2 Page 5

  I repeated the chant again, as I poured my blood in to the rum bottles. Ivan watched me in morbid fascination, as I carried out the ritual.

  “Offer the rum to him now,” instructed Erzulie.

  “Here, please take it.” I offered a bottle to Sousson Pannan. My hands shook uncontrollably, as I tried to repress my tears of disgust and pain.

  “Rum,” He stopped licking my neck and took the bottle from my hand. He took a long drink and waves of ecstasy washed over his deformed, blood-stained face. “I’ll see you later Arelia,” he said, as he gave me a long kiss on the mouth and disappeared.

  As my mouth filled with the taste of rot, rum and blood, I couldn’t hold in the vomit any longer. I puked on the mud in front of me; missing Ivan’s foot by only an inch. I felt like bawling like a baby as the rain beat down on me and chilled my bones to their core.

  “I knew you were a queen,” said Ivan without a hint of surprise in his voice or revulsion that I had almost vomited on him.

  I was too tired to fight or protest. All I wanted to do was get Lucus back inside the house and ask Ms. Mae for help so his wounds would heal faster.

  “Ivan, I promise I’ll try to understand if you help me take Lucus inside.”

  “Excellent choice queen,” said Ivan. He didn’t bat an eyelash.

  Chapter 7

  Cinnamon and Cayenne Pepper

  Inside, Ivan and I placed a heavily bleeding Lucus on his large canopied bed. Somehow letting all that blood drip on his expensive white sheets seemed plain wrong. They smelled so fresh and clean like spring air. I couldn’t help but take in their lovely scent; disturbing, I know.

  “Lucus. Lucus,” I whispered his name softly, but he was clearly out of it. There was no way I could help him. I had healed Ben’s snake bite a few weeks ago, but compared to this that had been miniscule. The challenge in front of me was way out of my league. It didn’t help that my own hand was throbbing and dripping blood everywhere either. At that moment, all I wanted was to be in grand-mere’s arms, she always knew what to do.

  “Ken has a pretty sweet set up here,” said Ivan. He picked up a bottle of cognac and sunk into a plush leather chair. I was livid that he had no ounce of compassion or care for Lucus. In fact, I found it uncanny that Ivan wasn’t shocked over what he had just witnessed. He was strangely calm about the whole thing. He wasn’t even freaked out that his hands were covered in blood.

  “His name is Lucus,” I snapped.

  “You’re so cute defending your little boyfriend. You’d do anything for him, wouldn’t you?” For a minute, his tone was dark and disconsolate.

  I took a deep breath and turned to face him. “Make yourself useful. Go get Ms. Mae.”

  “Nah, I don’t feel like it,” he said, as he poured himself some of Lucus’ cognac. “Prince Charming has good taste in booze.”

  I grabbed a bottle of the table and took a swig. I was desperate to get rid of the sordid aftertaste that lingered in my mouth. The slow burn rinsed away the vile kiss. “You’re an idi—” My insult was interrupted.

  “What in heavens is going on in here? I heard all the commotion; it pulled me right out of my sleep.” Ms. Mae breezed into the room. Her green eyes were heavy from sleep, and her printed white nightgown was crumpled.

  “Oh thank God.” I was so relieved to see her that I couldn’t help but give her a massive hug.

  “Arelia, what in God’s name happened?” she asked, as she took in the sight of my ripped clothes, drenched hair and bleeding palm. “And you.” She turned her attention to Ivan. “Don’t you own any pajamas child?” She marched over to Ivan and grabbed the cognac out of his hand. “Go on now, get dressed.”

  “Yes ma’am,” Ivan mumbled, as he left the room.

  “Lucus,” I pointed to the bed.

  “Arelia, tell me what happened?” Ms. Mae firmly demanded, as she took in the grotesque state Lucus was in.

  I gave her a condensed version of the night’s events. My voice unintentionally broke out in shrills, as I recounted the horrible spirit dining on Lucus and how it had been my entire fault.

  “Calm down, calm down, my child.” Ms. Mae wrapped her arms around me and stroked my hair. She smelled like marigold and cinnamon. It was Grand-mere Bea’s signature scent. I inhaled her and immediately felt at peace. I wanted to let her hold me forever and fall asleep in her arms. Remorse flooded over me as I thought about how rude I had been to her.

  “I’m sorry, Aunt Mae.” I realized it was the first time I called her aunt. “I want to stay, I want to help. I don’t want to run anymore. I’m tired of running.”

  “Shhh,” her velvety voice hushed me.

  “I don’t know how to heal him,” I admitted. “I have no idea where to begin. I can’t keep offering my own blood to Erzulie. I don’t have enough of it.”

  “It’ll be fine Arelia. Lucus is going to be better in no time. He can’t die. He heals faster than most. Stay right here,” she whispered. “I’ll be right back. It won’t be a minute. You take this.” She grabbed a t-shirt from the closet and wrapped it around my palm. “Your hand will heal in a few hours because the offering was made to Erzulie, your protector.”

  After she left, I kneeled down by Lucus’ bedside and held his hand. It was cold, limp and covered in bloody bite marks. “I’m sorry,” I whispered. “I should have listened to you. I’m not terribly good at listening sometimes, but I’m trying. I want to help, I do.”

  I wanted more than anything for him to respond, to say something, but he didn’t. It was like after you have a horrible fight with someone you care for; you just want some vague sign that everything will be okay, that’ll you’ll eventually kiss and makeup. I wasn’t getting any of that from Lucus. He was still, silent, and probably pissed off at me. I was livid with myself.

  Vicious raindrops beat against the large window pane and the heavy lace curtains did a strange dance, as they casted eerie shadows on the wall. Frantically, I tried to smell the air for a hint of jasmine, but instead the revolting scent of decay and rum lingered. I took it as an omen that things were about to get even more complicated and messed up.

  Aunt Mae rushed back into the room. In her hands, she carried a bunch of cloths, herbs and candles. She hastily lit a white candle and started rubbing some oil on it.

  “What is that?” I questioned.

  “Healing rituals that use herbs always need a lit white candle,” she explained. “This here is called Fiery Wall of Protection oil.” She held up the oil. “It can be used to strengthen the power of the herbs, as well to be used as powerful means of defense against supernatural attacks and threats. When you anoint a candle with it, it makes the energy of the flame all the more powerful.”

  “Spiritual attacks and threats?” She sounded so causal about the whole thing.

  “Yes. You’re a part of this world now Arelia. I’m not going to shelter you any longer. You need to be aware of all aspects of voodoo/hoodoo. I’d be lying if I said it was all light.”

  “I kind of figured that out tonight,” I muttered. “What’s in that stuff anyways?”

  “Each queen has her own exact recipe, but it’s mostly a bit of cayenne pepper, rue, blessed salt, cinnamon oil…” She rattled off an impossibly long list of oils that I would never be able to remember.

  After she was done dressing the candle, she mixed the oil with the herbs and passed the formula on Lucus’ wounds. “You don’t always need to call on Erzulie to help you with healing; you need to learn to work with other spirits, as well. In this case, Papa Loco, he is the loa of healing and vegetation. He is immensely powerful in providing queens with guidance when mixing healing formulas and carrying out rituals. All the herbs you see here have been blessed by Papa Loco. I always keep them on hand in case of accidents. You must learn how to build a relationship with him, so you can use the power of nature to heal rather than your own blood. You need to earn the trust and respect of the spirits and honor them.”

  “There are too many spirits.
” I shook my head. “I can’t tell the difference between them or who I’m supposed to trust. I thought this spirit was Papa Legba, but I was totally wrong. He showed up out of nowhere.”

  Aunt Mae continued to rub the mixture on Lucus’ wounds as she listened to me complain. Her dark skin was impossibly smooth under the soft glow of the candle light; her green eyes were fixed and determined. “That’s just the way it is Arelia, you can’t question it, just accept it. You’ll never be able to truly understand Les Mysteries. Greedy spirits love to haunt crossroads and plantations because that’s where unsuspecting queens assume Papa Legba is. They love to prey on the naive and innocent because that is their nature. They are not good or evil. They just are.”

  “Trust me, if you saw this guy you would think he was pretty nasty and evil,” I claimed.

  She let out a hearty laugh, as she turned to face me. “True evil is very rare,” she whispered. “Now come with me, Lucus needs his rest, he’ll be fine in the morning, and you need to take a bath.”

  I followed her down the hall to the spacious bathroom. As I entered the room, a peculiar, unidentifiable smell greeted me.

  “Get in.” Aunt Mae pulled aside the wine-red silk drapes and pointed at the deep marble bathtub. It was filled with foul-smelling red water and the thick square candles that surrounded it blazed brilliantly.

  I was skeptical as I peered inside the tub. “What is that?” I half expected her to say goat or chicken blood.

  Aunt Mae shook her head. I knew she could read my thoughts. “It’s not goat’s blood; it’s a simple, spiritual bath consisting of red oak leaves, red brick dust and salt. Now, get in, it’ll take away all your aches and pains plus remove any lingering energy that the spirit may have left behind. You can always rely on good old red brick dust to keep the negative energy at bay,” she said easily.

  “I’m not getting in there.” I was creeped out by its odd color and smell.

  “I’m not taking no for an answer, my child.” Aunt Mae’s voice was firm, as she crossed her heavy arms and impatiently tapped her foot.

  “Fine. Some privacy please?” Obviously, I had no choice. She turned around as I peeled off my damp clothes and tossed them onto the cold marble floor. I dipped my toe into the lukewarm water, held my breath and got in.

  “Are you in?” Aunt Mae asked.

  “Yeah,” I said in a pinched voice.

  She walked over to the tub, grabbed me by my hair and thrust my head under the bizarre red water until my entire body was submerged. The salty foul taste invaded my mouth. I struggled and revolted wildly against her, but it was futile. Her strength easily conquered me. As I was down there, I could vaguely hear her recite a chant to some spirit. What felt like hours later, Aunt Mae finally released me.

  I gasped for air, furious at her. “What the hell!” I screamed. “Why did you do that? I can’t swim. I can barely hold my breath for two seconds! I could have died!”

  Her green eyes were serene as I shrieked and fumed like a lunatic. I wanted to leap out of the tub, but I was naked, so that plan was out of the question. She wasn’t at all offended by my little outburst. “It’s for your own good my child.”

  She kneeled down beside me and softly stroked my cheek. “I don’t ever want to lose you.” Her voice quivered slightly, and I felt myself calm down. “You need to take a spiritual bath after you experience something like you did tonight or when you need extra guidance, support or protection. The recipes vary, but the impact is always the same. They heal, protect, and strengthen, but you need to be immersed from head to toe.”

  “Some kind of warning would have been nice,” I said.

  “You’re too stubborn to listen to warnings.” She laughed. “If my interpretation of your swamp dream was correct, Louis Beau is still lingering around this plane. If he needs something from you, he’ll stop at no cost to get it. You need to be prepared,” she said firmly.

  “I don’t get it; the cards said possession that means he’s a ghost? Or is he a spirit? And if he is a ghost or a spirit he should technically want to help me, right? He would want Lucus to be freed, so he could be free too. Maybe Mad Marie made a mistake and both of them are trapped here.” I tried to think of all the possible reasons why Louis’ spirit/ghost would have it out for me. “None of it makes sense. I need to know more about the curse.”

  Aunt Mae let out a heavy sigh, and for a second, her face showed her true age. “The truth is Arelia; no one knows the specifics of the curse.”

  “But Lucus said it was a soul for a soul or something like that,” I argued.

  “Those are some theories that we’ve come up with over the years, but all of it is just sheer speculation.”

  “That means maybe your card reading was wrong. Maybe my dream meant nothing. Maybe Louis has safely passed on.”

  “It’s a possibility my child. Nothing is ever certain when it comes to the spirits, they’re a fickle bunch.”

  “Then how am I supposed to know what to do? And why am I even here? If all of this is maybe or possibly, it’s all just a waste of time!”

  Her eyes met mine and her expression was stark. “You are here because Erzulie wants you here. She doesn’t throw around her blessing for no rhyme or reason. The night before I made an offering to her on your behalf, she appeared in my dream.” Her voice was full of vigor as she recalled her vision.

  “Erzulie was beautiful, graceful but inconsolable. Her hazel eyes were filled with miserable tears. Her expensive gown was torn, and she was covered in blood. Wails rang in my ears that spoke of a cruel imbalance and a destiny reserved for the brave. It was then and there, she whispered in my ear that you were needed, and with that, I did what I had to do, without question or uncertainty. Now, I won’t take any more of this doubt. You need to trust there is a greater purpose behind all of this, Erzulie has plans for you and you need to have faith in that. Is that clear?”

  “Yes, Aunt Mae,” I said, as I lowered my gaze. I didn’t want to mess with her; she was pretty scary when she got angry. Plus, she could try to drown me again. “Well, do you have any of Louis’ things like clothes or a picture, at least?”

  Aunt Mae shook her head furiously. “No, the few belongings that he did have were all taken by Marie after she left Darkwood. I managed to dig up dirt from his grave, but that was well over forty years ago. His body was buried in that old slave cemetery next to the swamp. However, each queen needs to collect her own dirt otherwise any type of uncrossing spell won’t work.” Her tone was compellingly ominous which made me all the more curious.

  “Well, if you have dirt from his grave that means you should be able to get some sort of reading from it, right?”

  She nodded. “Yes, in theory, that is how it should work. However, I haven’t gotten any type of reading from the dirt. For whatever reason, the spirits haven’t allowed me to make a connection. They don’t allow just anyone to obtain knowledge they aren’t supposed to.”

  My mind raced. Dirt from his grave. I had to collect dirt from Louis’ grave. “Then I have to go there, I have to collect graveyard dust, so I can feel him, understand him.” I rationalized.

  “In time, my child,” she said, as she stood up. “You’ve got to learn how to get along with the loa first. Without their guidance, you won’t have a chance. Now, enjoy the rest of your bath. I’m off to bed. I take it you’re still interested on working here and I’ll see you at seven am sharp?”

  “Yes,” I mumbled. “If you don’t try to kill me again.”

  “Excellent.” She gave me a small wink and turned to leave.

  After she left, I stayed in the bath for a few more minutes and reflected on what she had told me. My dream had been about the swamp; maybe going there was the key to everything. The slave cemetery was somehow critical to understanding more about Louis, the curse and how I could help Lucus.

  Aunt Mae expected me to believe blindly and with unwavering conviction that there was this gigantic plan set out for me by Erzulie. As I sat in a bathtub
full of rancid red brick dust, salt and red oak leaves, it all seemed surreal.

  A few more minutes spent in mindless obsessing passed when I couldn’t keep my eyes open any longer. I grabbed a large white towel from the stack and wrapped it protectively around me. As I passed familiar rows of white doors, my original intent was to head straight to my room, but something stopped me. Instead, I found myself outside of Lucus’ door.

  I bit my fingernails and thought of what I would say. I gathered the last bit of courage that remained within me for the night and tapped gently on the door. After a few more taps, I decided to open it.

  Dim candle light illuminated the enormous room and highlighted Lucus’ sculpted cheekbones. I inhaled the fiery scent of cinnamon and cayenne pepper, as I stood over him fully aware that what I was doing crossed into alarming stalker territory. Watching someone while they slept was the lowest one could go. Honestly, I had no idea what I was doing there. I sat down beside him and listened to his steady, rhythmic breathing.

  I took his hand and thought about him singing to voodoo dolls. I wondered if anyone had ever sung to him. I remembered the song grand-mere used to sing to me every night when I was a child. I began to gently hum even though I was an atrocious singer.

  Just saying this/Sweet dreams till sunbeams find you/sweet dreams that leave all worries behind you/But in your dreams whatever they may be/Dream a little dream of me.

  A hint of a sleepy smile started to form on Lucus’ face. I panicked. Scared that he would wake up, I abruptly stopped singing and ran out the door. What the hell was wrong with me?

  Chapter 8

  Red chrysanthemums

  Early morning sunlight slipped through the lace curtains and kissed my greasy face good-morning. Sabrina’s snores snapped me out of my mindless slumber. My focus immediately drifted to Lucus. Waves of worry washed over me. I hoped that he was okay and that he hadn’t heard my pathetic attempt at singing.