Punished (11 page)

I stared at the slave cabin and watched the rainbow leisurely fade into the blue background. The muggy water rippled for a few seconds and then stood still. I took the apple and buttermilk drop and threw them into the river. “Here, even though you say you don’t want anything, I’m offering you this food and thanking you for your guidance. Please don’t afflict any cruel and unusual punishment on me or anything.”

I turned and made my way to the slave cabin utterly unaware of what I was getting myself into.

Chapter 11

Louis Beau

I was hesitant to enter the slave cabin. From the outside, it looked so miserable and pitiful, with its hollow structure and haphazardly thrown together stick roof. Its wooden walls were rotting, and I wondered why Lucus didn’t get rid of the cabins. What was the point of them being there?

The last time I had been in a cabin, I made a connection with souls of slaves that sometimes visited the property. I hadn’t spent enough time in Louis’ cabin to get any sort of vibe from it. I guess that’s what Ayida wanted me to do, to learn more about Louis? I reluctantly pushed open the creaky wooden door and stepped inside.

Immediately, the scent of soggy earth mixed with tragedy invaded my senses. I didn’t know how to describe it exactly, but the energy within the cabin was full of despair and hopeless desperation.

I got down on my knees and gently touched the dank mud floor. I let the grime pass through my fingers and inhaled its musty scent. It was a smell that was vaguely familiar, but strangely alien. It told me a tale of profound sadness and longing.

I sat down on the floor, closed my eyes and tried to imagine what Louis had looked like. To my frustration, I got absolutely nothing. I was deep in thought, when I felt something pass over my left leg. My eyes snapped open; I was revolted to see that it was an enormous grey rat that happily gnawed on my shoe.

“Gross! What the hell!” I shrieked and leaped up off the floor. Unfortunately, the rat took no notice of my disgust and refused to get off of my foot. To my horror, it was soon joined by another one and then one more. A large army gathered circled around me and did a mad dance. They swayed around me, and their piercing eyes watched my every move.

I attempted to step over them and make a dash for the door, but they had it blocked. The walls crawled with them, and they practically came up to my knees.

Before I could fully comprehend what was happening, my entire body was covered in rats. I shrieked and raged violently against them, but their army was incalculably more powerful than me. I landed with a giant thump on the mud floor and prayed that the nightmare would end.

It didn’t.

They sat on my face and happily nibbled on my nose and ears. They danced on my belly and ran wild through my hair. I felt two gigantic tails wiggle around in my nostrils, and one tried to enter into my mouth.

Hot tears started to stream down my sweaty cheeks as their feast continued. I tried to get up, but every time I made an attempt, they knocked me back down harder. The sensation of them crawling on my skin was sickening. Soon there were so many of them that my screams were utterly silenced, and my eyes pressed closed under their weight. They felt so real, but I refused to believe that they were actually there.

I mentally begged Erzulie for help, but she didn’t answer. Instead, I saw a vision of a handsome dark boy with silky caramel skin and delicate cheekbones. There was something disturbingly familiar about his face. I knew it from somewhere.
 
He furiously scribbled in a journal while rats happily gnawed on him.

He paid no attention to them as they shared his corn cake, cold bacon and drank his meager water supply. The cabin was lit only by one puny candle, but it supplied him with enough light to see what he was writing.

The call of a horn bellowed in the distance, and he got up quickly and looked out the shutters. He turned around, and I could see lash marks on his muscular bare torso. The sound of the horn came closer, and he placed his journal in a box and buried it in the mud beside the entrance.

My eyes were forced open. The rats disappeared, and I was alone again. I madly shook my clothes and felt my face for bite marks. The appalling vermin had felt so real, but now there was nothing there. Had it been Louis in my vision? What was he trying to tell me? Had he kept a journal?

I ran to the spot by the entrance and started to dig rapidly. Louis was trying to communicate with me.
 
I needed to understand what he wanted to say. What he wanted me to see. I dug until my hands were numb and soiled with wet earth. At one point, I thought I had just lost my mind and almost stopped, but despite my hesitance, I knew that what I was doing needed to be done.

Finally, I felt something hard; it was a wooden box, the one in my vision. Ecstatic, I opened it and found a leather journal with yellow pages. If the boy had been Louis and this was his journal, where had he learned to write? And where did he get a leather journal from?

I hastily opened it and began to read the slanted writing.

July 13th 1852

My body isn’t my own. I have two masters, the maker and the driver. The maker abandoned me long ago and now, I am at the mercy of the driver. He owns my body and my soul. From daybreak till sunset, my body is never my own. Your face is the only thing that reminds me that redemption is near. The smell of your hair and the light in your eyes is that of Bon Dieu.

July 16th 1852

My skin is raw and my hands can barely move. There was a full moon tonight, and the driver showed no mercy. We toiled under its light. Under its beauty, I caught a glimpse of you. The hunger in my belly grows, but I pay it no attention when I think of you.

August 4th 1852

The owner is a kind enough man, but the driver is not. He threatens and enforces fear. He pays little attention to the orders of the owner. We are left at his mercy. Thirty lashes today because the weight of the cotton simply wasn’t right. What got me through each and every one of those lashes was the thought of your smile and your sweet embrace. Even in agony and pain; I never stop thinking of you.

August 14th 1852

Desperation and despair will me to follow the drinking gourd, but my heart stops me from doing so. If you promised to meet me at the end of the river, I would go. Your fickle nature prevents you from keeping your word, but I still love you so.

There were pages and pages full of Louis’ writing. He outlined his day to day life as a slave and professed his undying love for an unnamed girl. It was heartbreaking but oddly hopeful. It was clear that Louis’ life and being had revolved around this girl. She was his hope and his light. His love for her was the only thing that got him through his miserable plight and gave him a glimpse of salvation.

Who was this mystery girl, and what had happened to her? I slumped against the wall and read until my eyes got heavy and I gave into the call of seductive sleep.

Chapter 12

Forgive Me Father For I have sinned, I think…

“Arelia.” A familiar and welcoming voice pulled me out of my slumber. I felt a gentle hand full of heat on my moist cheek and my eyes slowly opened.

“Lucus? Is this a dream?”

“I don’t believe so.” Lucus gave me a slight smile, as he carefully brushed away the hair stuck to my cheek. “You disappeared. Everyone’s been worried, Sabrina, Mae, Henri, and…” He cleared his throat, paused and nervously ran his fingers through his hair. “Me.”

It wasn’t a dream; Lucus was actually there and perfectly healed. I abruptly placed myself in an upright position.

“You’re okay!” I was beyond thrilled to see that he wasn’t covered in scars and deformed. He appeared to be remarkably well rested. His dark eyes were clear, and his bronzed skin was smooth against his classic white t-shirt. Aunt Mae was literally a miracle worker.

I couldn’t help but give him a warm hug and take in the scent of his slightly damp skin. I let out a low sigh. I pulled away in embarrassment; after all, he was probably annoyed at me for not listening to his warning. “I’m sorry,” I muttered. “I’m sorry for last night.”

He clasped my hands into his and studied me carefully before speaking. “What you did last night was hasty and dangerous. You could have gotten yourself killed. Although I don’t have your power, I do know that random spirits are never to be messed with. You shouldn’t have invited that spirit in, if I hadn’t been there, it would have been you in my place.”

God, I was only trying to help him, he didn’t have to give me a lecture. I felt myself getting angry.
 
Who was he to preach to me? “Look. I said I’m sorry, but I was only
trying
to help. I didn’t do it for just the hell of it. You know.”

“I know,” he said, as he lifted my chin up from its downward position.
 
“You took an incredible risk, all for the sake of helping me. If you did that, I have no choice but to do the same. I would be a coward not to.” He sat down on the dirt floor and took a deep breath. “I owe it to you to tell you the truth about Louis and me.”

I instantly perked up. I wanted to show him the diary, but I was dying to know what he had to say first.

“Last night I told you that there was only one person that challenged me and wasn’t afraid to speak his mind around me.”

“I remember,” I said, as I recalled that awkward moment.

“That man was Louis.” He took a melodramatic pause. “And I’m the one who is responsible for his death.”

I felt my blood turn to ice as I gripped the diary in my hand. I thought about Louis’ writings, and pity flooded me. Lucus was a murderer. Was he the driver Louis had been referring to in his writings? Was he the one that killed Louis?

“Arelia, please say something,” Lucus begged, as he shook me lightly.

I was afraid to ask how Lucus had murdered him and why. “But how? I mean, he was a slave.
 
How did he even get close to you? Did you just shoot him or beat him to death because you thought he was disposable?” I was getting increasingly angry. I had finally started to trust Lucus, and now I was faced with the ugly truth. He was a murderer. Maybe even a serial murderer, like I had originally suspected.

“No, it didn’t happen like that,” he whispered, as he placed his hand on the back of his neck and looked up at the slanted roof.

“Then how did it happen?” My voice was dry and emotionless, only because I was trying to be perfectly calm and sensible. In reality, I wanted to scream and say:
how could you have kept this from me?!!! I had started to trust you!!!!!

A flashback from last night hit me and for a moment, I regretted helping Lucus. Maybe I should have let that ugly spirit feast on him. Perhaps the reason the spirit had been there was to warn me.

A few minutes of awkward silence passed.
 
Lucus’ eyes were still firmly fixed on the rotting roof.

“Look at me!” I finally demanded, unable to be all together and noble any longer. “You said that I could ask you anything and you would be honest with me.” I reminded him.

Lucus gradually deterred his eyes from the ceiling and focused his attention on me. “It happened in 1853 on a horribly dreary and rainy night.”

 
He looked down at his hands and took a deep breath. “At that time, the yellow fever was running wild throughout New Orleans, for some reason or another, the disease and decay had decided to grow immensely that year. The city smelled of death and maddening desperation. The stench of demise was everywhere, but the city was still vibrant, determined and eternally hopeful.

“My mother often warned me to stay far away from the center as possible, but I paid her no attention. Night after night, day after day, it seduced me with the call of adventure and intrigue. The opera houses, new arrivals at the ports, the sheer madness of it all. I couldn’t stay away. Eventually, I became a victim of the fever, was bed ridden and on the verge of death.”