Rebelled, an Arelia LaRue Novel #7 Read online

  "Wow, Princess! That is quite impressive. It looks like the young Mr. Dreaux hasn't completely brainwashed you into becoming the perfect little Garden District wife. Has his family accepted you? Or are you their token splash of color in a lily-white family? You know, if you had balls, I could use a face like yours in our organization."

  “What the hell does that mean?”

  He shrugged and took another drag from his cigarette. “You tell me. Look in the mirror.”

  I looked into the mirror, and I knew that I had to go home. Where home was, I didn't know. All I knew was I had to get there and fast.

  “A leap of faith, Arelia. That’s all it takes,” the voice urged. “Don’t doubt yourself. Let the spirit flow through you. Without faith, all things are impossible. With faith, all things are possible. They make faith sound like a childish fable because the devil likes to mock everything Bon Dieu says is good and noble.”

  "What do I have to do?" I asked. The mirror fogged up, and I could make out an outline of a handsome face with long dark hair and deep brown eyes. The tips of my fingers traced its curves as if remembering it from a time long forgotten. I had the sudden urge to kiss the face's full lips and run my fingers across its high cheekbones. I was the worst bride to be ever. "Do you see this?" I asked Ivan hoping that the rush of adrenaline I was experiencing would go away.

  He shook his head. “All I see is my handsome mug and your tragically tear-streaked face. Man, you have a lot of cleaning up to do before tomorrow,” he teased.

  I ignored him and focused on the mirror. “Who are you?” I asked again desperate for answers.

  “I’m the one whose soul you love.”

  “You can’t go around making bold proclamations like that when you don’t even know me.”

  “Yes, I can,” he said brushing off my rudeness. “Look at this rose, isn’t it beautiful. I admit it doesn’t look like much now, but wait until you discover the power it holds.” An image of a brown, shriveled root-like weed manifested in the mirror. It was clear that the voice was insane, and I was even more insane for listening to it.

  “All I see is an ugly old root that looks like it’s been dead for over a century.”

  The voice laughed, and my body was instantly full of warmth and heat. "Your humor will never change, will it? Sugar with a whole lot of cayenne pepper is how I would describe it."

  I shrugged. “You’re the one who claims to know me.”

  “Princess, sorry to interrupt your date with yourself in the mirror, but can I leave? Mrs. Mills and I weren’t quite finished with the deed when you rudely barged in. I’m sure she’s nervously clutching her pearls and waiting back in my room.”

  “Can he leave?” I asked the voice hoping that he would say yes.

  “No, you need him to stay.”

  “You need to stay,” I ordered.

  Ivan sighed and took several more furious puffs from his cigarette. “I have to warn you that if anything happens to me, the We Matter Organization will not let it go lightly. We are very protective of one another.” His voice was suddenly threatening and suspicious. I could tell that even he was getting more than a little nervous. It showed me that he was, in fact, capable of genuine emotions.

  I turned my attention back to the mirror. "I'm sorry, but I can't see what you want me to see. I can't see a rose. Help me see, please." My voice was desperate and a flood of homesickness washed over me.

  “You will. I promise,” the voice said. “What you see appears to be nothing more than a dead old weed, but it has the power to resurrect people from the dead. It’s called the Rose of Jericho. According to ancient beliefs, it symbolizes the resurrection of Jesus. It was granted the gift of immortality when Mary placed a shroud belonging to her blessed child on it. The rose blossomed beside the family while they fled to Egypt and hid from Herod. It bloomed on the day of Jesus’ birth and closed up again at the time of His crucifixion. It came back to life when He rose from the dead and lived.”

  “That’s an interesting story, but what does it have to do with me?” In my opinion, the bible was nothing more than a book of stories that must have been written by men who smoked a lot of weed. I mean, there were giants, fallen angels, talking donkeys, deceptive snakes, chariots of fire and then there was the Jesus character Himself who managed to walk on water and raise people from the dead. He sat around eating and drinking with sinners, saints, and politicians while telling them that the world was going to come eventually to an end. I swear I had read that same old resurrection story in a million other legends. Of course, I never told Sabrina what I thought. She swore the book was the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth and that is why she worked effortlessly to spread the good news.

  “You have to come back to life, Arelia. You have to resurrect.”

  I took a step back from the mirror. "You're nothing but a demon," I whispered mostly because this experience was making me question what reality was. If I claimed not to believe in demons why in the world was I accusing him of being one? “I am alive.” I glanced out the window, and my eyes were met with the sunshine, birds, and bright blue skies.

  "No. You are trapped in a reality that is about to manifest in the real world if you don't come back to where you belong. I can't see the whole picture just yet, but I know that evil is reviving, and it will grip everyone. Sabrina is not who you think she is. She is someone who hurt you before and will do it again. Angel Pulse United will destroy many souls. The We Matter Organization has good intentions, but even the best of intentions can turn deadly when evil gets behind them. Evil is getting ready to empower both sides, and the results will be a massacre so grand that all of the genocides and holocausts in human history will pale in comparison. I suppose all of this sounds incredible and outlandish. I have been told that in these times, the term "conspiracy theorist" has been used to describe what I am saying but trust me that these things are already beginning to pass. That is all I know, and I know only the truth that was shown to me. There is nothing new under the sun; it has all been there since time begun."

  "No," I whispered again stepping further away from the mirror. "You're a liar, and I don't believe a word of what you just said." I felt Ivan's hand entwine with mine. It was cold and rough to the touch. I shook free from it. His touch gave me the same sensation as the magnolias. I felt death, chaos, and destruction. My picturesque future with Tony was slipping further and further away. What bothered me the most was that I had no desire to chase after it.

  "Hey Princess, you're freaking out. Do you want to grab a drink? We can find your fiancé and maybe you guys can have a ménage with the man in the mirror."

  "Don't touch me." I backed away from Ivan. I was being a bitch considering I had gotten him involved in the whole situation, but I didn't want to feel his energy again.

  “The spiritual is already manifesting into the physical. You can see it with your fleshy eyes. You can see the violence and attacks of terror increasing on a large scale. Am I lying? Am I saying things that are untrue?”

  “No,” I whispered. “These days there are so many attacks. Everyone is out of tears. How many more tears can we all shed? How many more hashtags and my thoughts and prayers are with you lines can we dish out?” I forced back bitter tears not wanting Ivan to see me cry. The state of the world seemed so surreal.

  “Rebel, Arelia,” the voice urged. “Rebel against the forces that are trying to destroy you.” Rebel. It was a trigger word, and I ran to the mirror sure that this voice was telling me the truth, even if I wasn't ready to accept it yet. I couldn't deny that the sheer number of murders and terrorist attacks had erupted like a vicious wildfire, but what in the world did this have to do with the supernatural? And could little old me make a difference? I wasn't certain, but I sure as hell wanted to find out.

  “What do I have to do?” I asked again. This time, I was determined not to second guess what my gut was telling me was true.

  "Hold hands with the one you know as Ivan. He has a ro
ugh surface, and it will become cruel and hideous if they get their way. He will become a dictator. We can't let him slip into that state." We? My ears perked up at that word. There was a we already. Even though I didn’t want to, I did what I was told. I grabbed Ivan’s hand.

  "What the hell! Two seconds ago you told me not to touch you, and now you

  wanna hold hands again? You have the worst case of bipolar disorder I have ever seen. You take crazy to a whole new level. Hell, your poor fiancé has got his work cut out for him.”

  Tired of his wisecracks and constant mockery, I turned to face him. "It's not funny to make fun of real medical conditions, and this is not the time for jokes!" I hissed like a frustrated ghoul. "Using humor as a method of masking your pain is the oldest trick in the book, and not a very healthy coping method.” Tony had forced me to go to counseling to work on my self-esteem and anger issues.

  A blue candle appeared in the mirror, and the scent of pennyroyal, rosemary and lavender danced around us. I sniffed the air. The scent was familiar yet exotic and carried with it a force that energized my blood.

  “Light the flame,” the voice ordered. “Light the candle.”

  “But how?” I asked baffled as to how to carry out a strange request. “That candle is an image.”

  "It's an image now, but you can give life to it."

  “What the hell is this mystery man saying to you?” Ivan asked. He was getting impatient with this tug a war.

  “We have to light a flame. How in the world do we do that?”

  "Psalm 62," Ivan said coolly. "To light a metaphysical flame, you have to sing the psalm in utter faith the type that King David supposedly had."

  “Listen to him,” the voice said.

  “Sing with me, please,” I asked Ivan sweetly.

  "If that's what it'll take for you to finally leave me alone, let's go for it."

  In unison, we opened our mouths. Luckily, the psalm had been drilled into my head by Angel Pulse United.

  * * *

  Truly my soul waiteth upon God: from him cometh my salvation.

  He only is my rock and my salvation; he is my defense; I shall not be greatly moved.

  How long will ye imagine mischief against a man? Ye shall be slain all of you: as a bowing wall shall ye be and as a tottering fence.

  They only consult to cast him down from his excellency: they delight in lies: they bless with their mouth, but they curse inwardly. Selah.

  My soul, wait for thou only upon God; for my expectation is from him.

  * * *

  The more I reflected on the words that I was speaking, the more powerful they became and my conviction grew. A flame within me lit up, and power pulsed through my veins. “They bless with their mouth, but they curse inwardly,” was the phrase that jumped out at me the most. It felt like a grave warning. An image of Sabrina preaching at her mega church flashed before my eyes and brought with it the smell of rotting flesh. I pushed it aside and continued to recite the psalm. Slowly, the blue candle manifested on the table in front of the mirror, and its flame began to light.

  “Wow!” I touched the candle mesmerized by the fact that the words we had spoken had the power to make the invisible visible.

  Ivan’s eyes sparkled in pure wonder as the candlelight cast a ghostly glow on his face. “I’ve never seen this before,” he said touching the candle to make sure that his eyes weren’t playing tricks on him.

  “Don’t stop reciting the psalm,” the voice ordered. “Don’t stop.”

  “We can’t stop,” I said. “We have to keep singing.”

  We continued to sing and slowly the ugly root like weed manifested in front of the candle. “That is one ugly ass rose,” I said, as I poked the root like a flower.

  The voice laughed. “It looks that way now, but have faith that it can bloom into something beautiful.”

  “No, don’t have faith that it can bloom into something beautiful,” another voice seductively whispered.

  “What the hell. Do you hear that?” Ivan asked. He glanced around the room frantically looking at each nook and cranny for the intruder.

  I nodded. The voice was strangely familiar. It was the sweetest voice I had ever heard. It was akin to a siren lulling me away to a world full of promise and eternal paradise.

  “Come with me to a kingdom under the sea, and you’ll be free.”

  “Don’t listen to her,” the voice in the mirror urged.

  “I know best. I know what is best for my children. Look into the mirror and unite. Look into the mirror and unite. Look into the mirror and unite.”

  My body became weightless as if I had been thrust underwater. I could feel myself slipping away as if I had been given a fist full of sleeping pills along with a Hurricane or two. Ivan’s hand became limp and lifeless as mine.

  “Ignore her, Arelia. Please ignore her and continue to recite psalm 62. Afterward, blow on the rose and breathe life back into it. All it needs is a little moisture.”

  Instantly, I was pulled out of my sleep. I shook Ivan until I could feel life returning to his body. “We have to keep singing,” I said desperately.

  Without hesitation, we opened our mouths and sang. The more we sang, the more distant the siren-like voice became. After we had finished reciting the psalm again, I inhaled deeply and then exhaled with all of my might on the ugly old root. Within mere seconds it began to open and small white flowers began to grow.

  “It’s beautiful, isn’t it? Even the ugliest circumstances are capable of producing things of immense beauty if cultivated in good faith.”

  “You bitch! You can’t get away from me! No one has ever escaped from La Sirene!” The beautiful voice screeched and hissed in a bitter rage which prompted the mirror to crash into a thousand pieces.

  I wanted to respond, but I felt as if death had come for me. The last words to escape my lips were, "I love you, Ivan. Know you are loved in ways that you can't imagine and in ways you think you don't deserve."

  “Oh shit! Princess, what the hell? If you don’t want to marry a Dreaux reject him, don’t die on him cause that’ll give him a tragic past which will make him more appealing.”

  A joyful giggle escaped my lips. Fate had brought me here, and it was fate that was leading me home. Ivan was part of that journey. My stomach growled with a vicious hunger so intense that it prompted me to close my eyes and fall to the floor with a deafening crash. The last thing I remember hearing were the words la vie en rose.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Darkwood Plantation, Present Day

  The Council of Seven

  My eyes opened, and utter darkness welcomed me, as did the spicy scent of rum infused with deadly hot cayenne peppers, graveyard dirt, cinnamon, angelica root, rue, frankincense and strangely enough sweet jasmine and honeysuckle. I knew it was an odd combination, but it smelled like home. Home wasn’t always the picture- perfect place we were brainwashed to think it was. In reality, it was full of combinations that didn’t look perfect on paper and pieces of the puzzle that never seemed to fit well.

  My skin was a hot sticky mess, and my mouth was parched and desperate for the tiniest drop of water. It took a few moments for me to realize that I was back, and this wasn't another illusion. I was alive and not stuck on some other side. I remembered everything that I had seen and had been shown, and a great and terrible feeling of dread filled the pit of my stomach as did pleasure.

  I was thrilled that the man in the mirror had been none other than Lucus, and he had somehow resurrected me from death. How he had done it I wasn't sure, but I had a feeling that it involved none other than the Wild Rose, a hell of a lotta faith on my part and of course the Boss. It was true; Rosaline was gaining her courage back and finally coming out of the shadows, which meant that I had to get my act together and make tough decisions, cut out the weeds from my life and no longer second guess the infinite warnings that would inevitably come my way. I had a creeping sensation that life was about to become even more complicated. More secre
ts were about to be revealed. Was I strong enough to handle them? Was I strong enough to discover what would become of Louis if I didn’t stop this battle?

  What felt like velvet and satin grazed my skin, and my mouth opened to let out a muffled scream. I was alive, but I was still buried in a coffin that was as large as a queen-sized bed. I pounded against the roof of the coffin in desperation. "Please help! Someone, please! Papa Ghede if you're lurking around and have decided to take my side, please help." I wasn't going to cry even though I wanted to. I had done enough crying for a million lifetimes, but tears always found their way back to my eyes. Maybe this was the reason Erzulie had chosen to give me her blessing, we both had the same habit of bursting into tears at the oddest times.

  I continued to scream, but the only thing I could hear was the sound of oak branches softly scratching against what I assumed were tombs. The wild hoots of owls in the distance, and the strange lament of Spanish moss as wind danced through it sang a mysterious song. It was the perfect midnight sonata, and I felt myself slipping into another slumber which I couldn't let happen.

  “Knock, knock! Is anyone home? It looks like all of the lights are out. Is the party over already?”

  My heart leaped with excitement. “Papa Ghede, is that you? Oh, thank Dieu! Can you please get me out of here?” I asked sweetly and respectfully as I could. I wasn’t sure if he was on my side, or if he would toss my spirit back into some other bottomless abyss. Thick puffs of cigar smoke crept into the coffin, and I began to cough and panic at the thought of dying again. I knew that the reality I had been shown was already being birthed and it would manifest fully if I wasted any more time.