Nancy K. Duplechain - Dark Trilogy 01 - Dark Bayou (13 page)

“Why did he leave you and Maw-Maw his house?”

“Because we needed it.” Ben read the puzzled look on my face. “See, this place is so far out of the way that we could meet here in secret.” My eyes widened.

“Are you and my Maw-Maw …?” I couldn’t bring myself to finish saying what I was thinking. The very idea made me shudder. Ben laughed harder at this and now even Clothilde was laughing, and blushing, too, I noticed. I blushed, but didn’t care because I wanted to get to the bottom of this.

“No! No!” said Ben. “Your Maw-Maw Clothilde and Miss Cee Cee and me have this, uh … little club.”

“Miss Cee Cee?” I asked, remembering the name, but not the face.

“Cee Cee Baptiste,” said Clothilde. “You remember her. We used to visit when you and David were little.”

As soon as she said that, I heard heavy footsteps on the porch, and the door suddenly swung open. A large, dark-skinned Creole woman, wearing flip flops, a colorful flowing dress and big hoop earrings, entered and closed the door behind her. She carried a large, gaudy purse with Elvis Presley’s picture on it, surrounded by rhinestones.

“Hey, y’all!” she said, with a big grin. “Sorry I’m late. Y’all wouldn’t believe the traffic on Ten! And they gave me a speeding ticket on the Basin. Can you believe that?! They said I was speeding.”

“What did you tell them?” asked Ben.

“I told him—it was a man—that of course I was speeding! I was in a hurry! That’s my second ticket this month, can you believe—” She noticed me and looked me up and down. She squinted and looked at Clothilde. “I know that ain’t Leigh-Leigh! Come here, girl! Give Miss Cee Cee a hug!” She spread her arms out wide. I just sat there.

“Leigh!” said Clothilde, glaring at me. I slowly got up and walked over to Miss Cee Cee.

“I haven’t gone by ‘Leigh-Leigh’ since I was—”

Before I could finish, she squeezed me as hard as she could. The breath was knocked out of me, but before it was, I could smell a very sweet spicy smell. I didn’t care if these people knew me, I didn’t know them, and I was becoming quite annoyed with Clothilde for making me hug strangers. Miss Cee Cee let me go, and I returned to my seat on the sofa. She sat next to me, but Clothilde and I had to scoot down to allow her room.

“Now, Leigh-Leigh—well, Leigh, you say you go by now—anyway, I know you probably don’t remember me, but you and your momma and brother and maw-maw used to visit me every time y’all came to N’Awlins.”

I vaguely remembered the cobbled-stoned streets of the French Quarter and an apartment over some kind of voodoo store. I remembered tacky fleur-de-lis wallpaper in the bathroom. “I kind of remember,” I said.

She placed her Elvis purse gently on the coffee table and unzipped it. She reached in and pulled out a silver flask. She opened it, took a swig and then handed it to Clothilde who did the same. Aside from her rum cakes, I had never seen Clothilde drink. Clothilde passed the flask to Ben who took a swig and then put the cap back on before setting it down on the table. I felt like I slipped into another dimension and was entering the
Twilight Zone
. “Um, not to be rude or anything, but what are we all doing here?” I asked. Cee Cee and Ben looked to Clothilde.

“I wanted y’all here because I think we’re running out of time,” said Clothilde.

“What you mean? We still have plenty of time,” said Cee Cee.

“Things have changed. That’s why I brought Leigh-Leigh here.” Clothilde hesitated. “She’s seen him.” Ben and Cee Cee shot a worried look at each other. “And she’s not the only one. Lucas’ boy has seen him, and I can’t be sure, but I think he’s gotten close to Lyla,” she continued. Cee Cee made the sign of the cross. Ben reached for the flask, and I noticed his hand was slightly shaking. He took a big sip and placed it back on the table.

“This about that Dark Man?” I asked.

“Yes, child,” said Cee Cee with much sympathy in her voice. I looked at each of them. All of them looked very worried. Clothilde looked haggard, like she was about to perform an impossible task.

“What exactly is it that you guys do here?” They were quiet.

“How well do you know your European history, Leigh?” asked Ben at last. “Particularly your French and German history?”

“Not very well,” I answered. “I probably know more American history than anything I guess.” Clothilde rolled her eyes and reached for the flask. I ignored her obvious sign that she was annoyed with me for not knowing my French heritage. I stayed focused on Ben.

“That’s okay. Do you ever recall hearing about Charlemagne and the Matter of France?” he asked.

“I know Charlemagne was a king.”

“That’s right. He was the King of the Franks from 786 A.D. until he died. The Realm of the Franks, during the Carolingian Dynasty, founded France and Germany. Yes, Charlemagne was a great king!” He said this with much pride in his voice. “He and his twelve peers valiantly fought against the Moors. The twelve peers were his retainers, or knights, as they put it in medieval literature. They were holy knights, battling darkness in the name of light. Their story was legendary.

“Over the centuries, the stories have been re-worked and an air of magic infused with the excitement of battle. In some tales, Charlemagne’s best friend and knight, Roland, had a magical horse that could change size to a gigantic beast in battle.” Ben laughed softly now. I was extremely lost. I didn’t know what any of this had to do with why we were here, but I let him continue.

“Some of the facts in the legend were twisted and changed as it passed from country to country, each new nation borrowing from the story to fasten into their own legend. Eventually, the Matter of Britain became the most popular re-telling of Charlemagne’s adventures. The Matter of Britain focused on King Arthur, you see. But it all started with Charlemagne and his twelve knights.

“Anyway, over the centuries, people began to shrug off the magical components of Charlemagne’s epic story as fiction. It’s true that some of the stories, like the one about the horse, were exaggerated. But the magic was actually based on fact. You see, Charlemagne and Roland and the rest of the knights weren’t just fighting the Moors. They were also battling L
es Foncés.” I furrowed my brows. “The Dark Ones,” he translated for me.

“The Dark Ones?” I asked, doubting. Ben nodded and, in the corner of my eye, I noticed Cee Cee reach for the flask again.

Ben continued. “The Dark Ones were evil beings, causing destruction everywhere they went. They were very powerful. It was as though they were fueled by the coals of Hell. The Frankish citizens couldn’t stop them. That’s when Charlemagne and his peers stepped in. They had … special abilities, bestowed upon them specifically to deal with The Dark Ones. Each knight had a specific function—a power if you will. For instance, Roland’s power was that he had great strength. He could lift a mighty boulder over his head and crush it onto the side of a mountain. The knight, Oliver, could foresee the future. Ansies—he could perform magical spells. As for Charlemagne, he could heal his knights, his friends, with the touch of his hand.”

He stopped now, letting me take it all in. I just shook my head. “I’m sorry. I don’t understand.”

“Baby, the descendants of Charlemagne and his holy knights spread out over France and Germany,” said Cee Cee, gently placing her hand on mine. “They have a long lineage. A direct blood line that continues to this day. And those in the blood line share the same powers—not to mention same responsibilities—as their ancestors.” She paused, studying my confused face.

I slowly looked at each of them. They stared at me, waiting for me to grasp the meaning of what they were telling me. It suddenly dawned on me. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. I opened them again and looked at them as if they were standing on a street corner, naked and playing tambourines.

“Are you telling me … that my grandmother is a …
paladin
?” I whispered the last word like it was something dirty. They remained silent, looking away. They didn’t look embarrassed like they should. They actually looked relieved. “You’re joking, right?” I persisted.

“Leigh,” started Ben. He stopped, closing his eyes to compose his thoughts. He opened them again and looked intently at me. “Yes. Your grandmother is a paladin by blood. So am I. So is Miss Cee Cee … so are you.”

My eyes widened. “And, we have … powers?” I questioned, sarcastically.

“Leigh,” Clothilde warned me, noticing my tone. But she sounded weary, like there was no fight in her. I ignored her.

“And these ‘Dark Ones,’ do they have a bunch of great, great grandbabies running around Acadiana, too?” I felt myself becoming angry. This whole thing was silly, and I couldn’t believe Clothilde, the most practical person I’ve ever met, bought this nonsense.

Cee Cee shook her head. “Most are not human. They just exist. Always have. Prob’ly always will.”

“Uh-huh. And the Dark Man? He’s one of them, that right?”

“Leigh, that’s enough,” Clothilde warned again, a little angrier.

I picked up the flask from the table. “If you ask me, I think all of you have been hitting the sauce a little too much.”

“Enough!” Her green eyes pierced me like daggers. I shut my mouth and put the flask back on the table.

I decided to humor them. “Are they ghosts or something?”

“Sometimes they can be,” said Ben. “The Dark Man you’ve been seeing is just one entity. He’s been a problem for a while now.”

“So there are more?”

“Oh, yes,” said Cee Cee. “A few years ago, there were two causing a lot of damage. In fact, they were responsible—” Clothilde coughed loudly before Cee Cee could finish. It wasn’t very subtle, but it did the trick. Cee Cee hesitantly continued. “They were hard to get rid of.”

I calmly stood up. “Are you ready to go?” Clothilde didn’t budge. I walked over to the door. She reluctantly got up and followed. I opened it for her, and she walked out first. Before I closed the door, Ben had a final parting thought for me.

“You’re a paladin by blood, Leigh, but you don’t have to be one if you don’t want. We all had to choose this. At some point in each of our lives, we made the decision to continue the fight our ancestors started.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Because you have someone you need to protect and the only way to do that is to accept your destiny.”

I closed the door and Clothilde and I left. I drove us back to her house, my black Mustang speeding down yet another country road. The trip was completely silent on both our parts. She must have been lost in deep thought for her not to fuss at me about the speed limit. I didn’t know what she was thinking, but I was seriously grasping for rational logic.

The Dark Man was a big problem for me, but I tried to make myself see that it was just my imagination. I had never even dreamed about him until after Lucas told me what his son told him. The man from Bancker was just a bit player in my dream, playing the role of a lifetime as the Dark Man. I was now resigned to believe that he was just some creepy old man who might be a little mentally ill. And for all I knew, those pictures from Lucas’ package could have been some sick joke.
But the pictures of Mom and Lyla,
my mind pestered. I quickly shut it out, pretending it was just a coincidence.
How can that be a coincidence?
I turned my thoughts to the Pacific Ocean and the mountains. I needed to go home—home to California. This place was getting to me. Coming back was a bad idea.

When we finally got back to Clothilde’s house in Abbeville, it was about a quarter to five. She got out silently and walked into her house, leaving me in the car. I was trying so hard to fight off the anger that had been building up in me since Ben told me that ridiculous story. I realized that I wasn’t angry at him or even at Clothilde. All the way home, I made myself come to the conclusion that coming back to Acadiana was a mistake. It was a grave overreaction to a scary story, a nightmare or two, and a good amount of guilt. I was angry with myself more than anything.

I got out the car, slamming the door behind me. When I entered the house, Clothilde was in the kitchen, pulling the eggs out of the fridge. She put them on the counter and then noticed me standing there, staring daggers at her. “If you want to start the egg salad, I’ll put the roast in the oven,” she said quietly, that same haggard look on her face. I just stood there as she went back to the fridge and pulled out a large rib roast, placing it on the counter, next to the oven.