Authors: Kira Saito
Vendors of all ages, colors, races
competed for the attention of finely-dressed, selective customers.
Each and every face was unique and striking in its own way and it
was impossible not to stop and stare at the sheer wonder of it all.
Voices sang, laughed and passionately argued in a variety of
languages and accents while bartering for the best deal or simply
taking in the beautiful chaos of it all.
I stopped running long enough to catch
my breath and smooth back the wild waves that had slipped out of my
hood.
“
Bade who am I supposed to say
good-bye to?” I whispered while frantically scanning the market for
a recognizable face.
“
Cecile.”
I heard a faint voice call out my name
and my blood froze but I forced myself to fight my way through a
crowd of curious spectators.
“
No!!!” I screamed as I
fell to the filthy ground. “Antoine! No! What happened?” I asked,
as I tried to frantically soak up the blood that was gushing from
his chest with my cape.
“
He challenged me, Cecile. He
challenged me. Your protector accused me of trying to steal you
away and…” Antoine’s voice was weak and frail and I knew he was
dying. The spark behind his green eyes was slowly flickering into
oblivion.
“
No!” I was wild with rage and
pure despair. “No, you’re not going to die!” That stupid cowardly
ass! Who challenges a man who is unable to defend himself? A
coward, that’s who. I forced back my tears and leapt up and grabbed
a knife off of a nearby table from a vendor who was slicing cuts of
beef. “Stay with me Antoine,” I begged. “Stay with me.”
A crowd of curious spectators gathered
around as I cried out to Erzulie for help. “Erzulie please!” I
begged. “Please help me help him.” I savagely stabbed my palms
seven times and recited her chant:
Seven stabs of the knife,
seven stabs of the dagger,
Lend me the basin so I can
vomit my blood,
Seven stabs of the knife,
seven stabs of the dagger,
Lend me the basin so I can
vomit my blood,
My blood is pouring
down
“
Please stop,” Antoine
whispered. “They’ll arrest you.”
“
I don’t care.” I was a
madwoman as I stabbed myself repeatedly and without
mercy.
“
Please stop my dear.” Erzulie
whispered. “It’s too late for him. It’s too late. Let him go. He’s
going to be free.” She stood over us in a flowing black silk dress.
A black lace veil obscured her face and her lustrous hair billowed
in the icy wind.
In anger and hopelessness I threw aside
the knife and looked up at her in fury. “Free? Free? Only in death
we’re allowed to be free, as if that’s some huge consolation! If we
have to live like prisoners what’s the point of living at
all!”
“
Everything has its time
and season, my dear. This too will pass. This bloodshed, violence,
hatred will pass only if you all work together.”
I laughed bitterly at her words. “That
doesn’t change what’s happening here and now!” I
screamed.
“
Then do something about
it, my dear. Even the littlest and seemingly insignificant actions
are one step closer to the progress you wish to see.”
What the hell did that mean? What was
I supposed to do? At that moment I couldn’t think of a damn thing
that would fix the atrocious world in which I lived. I held Antoine
close to my chest. “I swear I’ll get him back for this! I promise
you I’ll get vengeance for your death, Antoine.”
My mind was already racing with all of the
tricks I could use to cause Edmond’s demise. I wasn’t sure which
one I would use but I knew it would be slow, painful and very
torturous. Something involving pins and snakes, as well as tiny
insects that would eat him from the inside out.
“
Cecile, I don’t want to be a
martyr and my death doesn’t need vengeance. Please don’t sink to
his level. You’re so much better than that.”
“
I’m so sorry,
mon
ami
. I’m so
sorry. I should have accepted your proposal. It’s all my fault.
It’s all my fault.” My words were muffled through my tears. “None
of this would have happened. We could have moved to Paris together
and you would have been the best lawyer in all of France. We could
have had so much fun and you would have lived and…”
“
Non
,” he said softly. “None of this is
your fault, and you shouldn’t have accepted my proposal. You would
have only traded one lie for another.” He reached out and caressed
my cheek. “Cecile, you cannot give up. You cannot settle for any
less than you’re worth. Each and every one of us has a
responsibility to stand against the wrong we see in the world.
Everyone has the right to decency.”
“
Even the heathens,” I
said through tears.
A smile crossed his lips and I could
feel him drift further and further away. “Even the
heathens.”
“
Antoine! Antoine! No!” He was
gone. My infinitely handsome and snobby Antoine was gone in the
blink of an eye, and nothing would ever bring him back or ease the
colossal guilt that I felt.
“
Antoine!” Madame Dupart’s
screams were deafening as she ran through the crowd and towards her
dead son.
Watching her hold him in her arms was
unbearable, and I had to look away as she wildly wailed and mourned
the death of the child she loved so dearly. I couldn’t think of a
single comforting thing to say, so I simply held her and let her
cry and cry until my cape was soaked with her tormented tears. Her
wails were so wretched and wild that they pierced my heart to its
very core. Eventually Monsieur Dupart arrived and unsuccessfully
tried to calm her down.
Meanwhile the crowd of spectators had
dispersed and life in the French Market went on as if nothing ever
happened. As if a helpless man who had been legally unable to
defend himself hadn’t just gotten brutally murdered out of petty
jealousy and a lust for domination. Vendors went back to selling
their products and customers sipped café from china cups while they
looked upon Antoine’s dead body as if it were a piece of
garbage.
It was at that moment it dawned upon
me that the world around me was getting too comfortable with death
and destruction. So comfortable that the very mystery and beauty of
life no longer had any value.
“
Cecile, what happened?”
asked Monsieur Dupart.
I explained the whole situation to him
and I could see the anger build behind his eyes because like me
there was nothing he could do.
I glanced up and scanned the crowd for
Edmond. I spotted him lingering in the corner casually sipping café
from a china cup. He held a pistol in his other hand. The pistol he
had used to kill Antoine as if he were some stray dog. He had
watched the whole scene play out with sick delight and fascination.
I lost all reason, composure and sense of where I was. I was a ball
of rage as I marched up to him. “You ass! You disgust me!” I
slapped him viciously across his face and relished the flash of
surprise and slight shock that flashed through his eyes.
I felt a two beefy hands grip me from
behind with such force that I was left breathless.
Policemen.
“
What do you think you’re
doing?” One of them asked as his nails dug into my
flesh.
I turned to face him and felt his
anger burn into my skin. His mouth was a taunt line of disapproval
and hate.
“
Release her,” demanded
Edmond. “I’m not going to press any charges. She’s been ill
recently.”
I turned to face him.
“Ill!”
“
Yes,” he said calmly.
“You’ve been terribly ill. Hopefully the death of your friend will
teach you a lesson.” He gave me a small smirk, put his cup down and
turned around. “I’ll see you at home, Cecile.”
Chapter Twenty
Marinette
The Streets of New
Orleans
New Orleans, 1853
I walked around the city in a haze of hot
rage, not knowing exactly where I was going or what I was going to
do. Antoine’s body had been hauled away, and Monsieur and Madame
Dupart, despite their devastation, were making funeral
arrangements.
A heavy,
bone-
chilling rain had started to fall and the air had grown
even cooler. Underneath my soaking cape my body was viciously
trembling, but like a person possessed I could not stop walking.
The day was quickly turning into night and as I stumbled through
narrow alleys and muddy gutters, slowly the sights and sounds
around me had begun to merge with one another. Soon I became immune
to the rings of drunken laughter, the clatter of horse carts and
the never-ending brawls that seemed to plague the city. Fat rats
and cockroaches ran over my bare feet and although that sensation
had been revolting at first it was now a form of self-punishment
that I openly welcomed.
I knew it was dangerous being alone at
this time but I wasn’t afraid because the spirits were always
walking with me. One in particular had attached herself to me and
was whispering rather tempting plans of death and destruction into
my ear.
“
I can take care of him for you!
Blood needs to be shed in order for a revolution to begin! And a
revolution is needed right here and right now!” Marinette adamantly
proclaimed. She furiously chugged gasoline from a glass bottle and
recklessly waved her machete into the icy night air. Her bright
orange dress with sunny yellow banana leaf patterns and dreadlocked
hair decorated with tiny beads seemed out of place considering her
aggressive personality.
I examined her fierce profile with its
jutting chin and dark leathery skin, and couldn’t help but be
consumed by her energy. As a human, Marinette had a been a powerful
Voodoo Queen who had lived in Haiti. Horrified by the oppressive
nature of slavery she had called upon Erzulie to help kick-start
the Haitian Revolution that had overthrown the French oppressors
and kicked them out of the country. Her courageous actions had been
met with hostility and she had been burned alive. Now, she spent
her time helping other Kings and Queens who needed help to fight
against oppression.
“
He’s on Rue Royale gambling;
only this time he’s gambling with money instead of lives!” She
turned to me with her eyes red and ablaze with an indestructible
fire. “It won’t take much! One swift slice and it can be all over!”
I ducked as she swung her machete from side to side. “I only ask
for more gasoline!” She gave me a toothy smile as she rapidly drank
some more of her gasoline.
“
I don’t know if that’s
such a great idea. He’s one of the most powerful men in the city.”
Even though I was trying to talk myself out of this plan my feet
continued to carry me closer and closer to the gambling dens on Rue
Royale.
“
Don’t be a scared little
girl! Drink some gasoline and light the fire that is yearning to
come out!” She tried to thrust the gasoline into my hands but I
graciously declined. “There! He’s there!”
We stopped in front of an elegant,
brightly-lit casino full of top hats, cigar smoke and adrenaline.
Patrons sat around tables, clutching crystal glasses full of
whiskey and absinthe while engaging in games of roulette, loto, and
faro. The stench of power and money was overwhelming.
“
Look how he’s sitting there
pretending as if nothing is the matter! Drinking his whiskey and
gambling. Hasn’t he gambled with your life enough? People like him
love to gamble with lives because they have no respect for anyone
or anything but themselves. ” Marinette whispered into my ear with
her gasoline-tinged breath.
My body shook uncontrollably at the sight
of Edmond’s smug face as it looked at the dealers in a patronizing
manner, and I wanted nothing more than to send Marinette into the
casino to lop off his head. I snuck past the doormen virtually
unnoticed and was met with a thick cloud of cigar smoke as I
stepped into the casino and closer and closer to Edmond. Refined
faces looked upon me in annoyance as they took in the sight of my
bare, filth-caked feet and drenched cape.
Marinette madly jumped on top of a
table causing a gust of cards to swirl in the air and prompted a
group of very confused patrons to jump back in defense. Her wild
laugher and heated energy gave me the courage I needed to walk
right up to Edmond without any thought of the repercussions of my
actions. Marinette accompanied me and positioned herself behind
Edmond with her machete lingering dangerously close to his thick
neck.
He was too absorbed in his game to notice
me and that gave me the advantage of surprise. I tapped him on the
shoulder and he looked at me with glassy eyes. Clearly, he had
drunk too much whiskey. His eyes narrowed as they rested on me, his
lips parted slightly, and Marinette brought her blade closer and
closer to his neck.
“
What in God’s name are you
doing here?” His tightly grabbed my wrist. It was painful to the
point where I had to fight back tears of agony and embarrassment. I
could see the probing eyes of patrons on us but not a single one of
them gave notice to my silent pleas for help. And why should they
have? I was his and they had no right to interrupt. “Wandering the
streets, as if you’re some kind of forsaken prostitute while you’re
under my protection! Have you no respect for yourself or for
me?”