Nancy K. Duplechain - Dark Trilogy 03 - Dark Legacy
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Authors: Nancy K. Duplechain
Tags: #Fantasy: Supernatural Thriller - Louisiana
| Nancy K. Duplechain - Dark Trilogy 03 - Dark Legacy | |
| Dark Trilogy [3] | |
| Nancy K. Duplechain | |
| Nancy K. Duplechain (2014) | |
| Tags: | Fantasy: Supernatural Thriller - Louisiana Fantasy: Supernatural Thriller - Louisianattt |
Leigh's story continues, as Noah's past affects her present. Her power grows stronger when she travels to Paris at Miles' request, and she must battle the Dark Side to save someone she loves. Soon, she will discover that a legacy can be extinguished as easily as a flame.
DARK
LEGACY
Book
3
of
THE
DARK TRILOGY
A
novel by
Nancy
K. Duplechain
Copyright 2014
by Nancy K. Duplechain
All rights
reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored, or transmitted by any
means—whether auditory, graphical, mechanical, or electronic—without written
permission of both publisher and author, except in the case of brief excerpts
used in critical articles and reviews. Unauthorized reproduction of any part of
this work is illegal and punishable by law.
The characters
and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real
persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.
Visit author
facebook page:
www.facebook.com/NancyKDuplechain
For Uncle
Charles, who taught me piano, gardening, and how to laugh at people who tick me
off.
“Vud
you care for some varm milk?”
Following the battle that took place on the little bayou
behind Clothilde’s, I learned much of what Noah kept hidden. He had confided in
Miles who was the only father he had ever known, and Miles, in turn, thought of
him as his son.
Looking back, I realize how foolish and stubborn I was. The
events that surrounded my life were scattered pieces of a jigsaw puzzle, so
scattered that even Father Ben couldn’t figure out where all the pieces fit. He
knew more than all of us, though, and so he, too, confided in Miles.
As for Lyla, it took a few days for her to tell me
everything. When she did, I wept with joy and grief. While I had lost some
things, I hadn’t lost everything.
But I came close. And I learned that a legacy can be
extinguished as easily as a flame.
He hesitantly
turned around so that she could see what he was talking about. They looked like
tiny shards of amethyst struggling to break away from his shoulder blades. She
lightly traced a finger over one of them. He bristled.
“Does it hurt?”
she asked.
“Feels a little
sore.”
They looked so
much like gem stones that she was expecting them to feel jagged and rough, but
they were soft and yielded to her touch.
“I can’t believe
this is happening,” he said sadly, and pulled away from her, putting his shirt
back on.
She leaned back
against the wall, bringing her knees up into her chest and resting her arms
across them. She watched as he nervously paced the room, and then she
smiled softly. “I think it’s beautiful.”
“Nadia, nothing
about being like them is beautiful.”
A Midnight Guest
Twenty-three
years ago …
Selena heard the
softest sound, like a bird rustling its feathers. It was just after midnight,
and she was in her dining room, clearing the table from the Mardi Gras dinner
party she had earlier in the night. She quickly forgot about the rustling noise
when a dessert fork slipped off the stack of plates in her hand and fell to the
floor, smudging the antique rug with remnants of king cake.
“Damn it!” she
hissed.
She carefully
set the stack of dishes back on the table, grabbed a nearby napkin and dipped
it into a half empty glass of ice water. She gently dabbed the icing with the
wet end of the napkin and frowned at the small stain.
Selena had been
extremely careful to take good care of the two-story Creole townhouse and
everything in it when she inherited it from her grandfather a year before. It
had been in the family for five generations and was even listed as a historical
home. She was going to make sure she took as much pride in the house as her
grandfather had.
Frustrated with
her lack of progress, she stood up, intent to hunt down an old bottle of stain
remover she thought she had in the back of the kitchen pantry. She turned
around and was confronted with a man standing in the archway between the living
room and the dining room. Selena let out a startled gasp and put a hand over
her quickly-beating heart.
“I’m so very
sorry. I didn’t mean to frighten you,” said the man. He was about six feet
tall with jet black hair, chiseled jaw and intelligent, gray eyes. He was young,
perhaps in his late thirties, handsome and lean in a tailored black suit and
white shirt, no tie. Despite his outward appeal, Selena stayed alert. She grew
up in the city and knew how to take care of herself.
“What are you
doing in my house?”
The man smiled
apologetically. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have come in, but I knocked and no one
answered. I saw the lights on and—”
“I didn’t hear
any knocking,” she said. “If you don’t mind, I’ll ask you to leave before I get
my grandfather’s gun right behind me in that cabinet. I always keep it loaded.”
The man raised
his eyebrows, his eyes twinkling and a smile playing around the corners of his
mouth. “It’s your grandfather I was here to see. George always expected me on
Mardi Gras. Kind of an old tradition.”
“You knew Pop
George?”
“Knew?”
Selena brushed a
strand of her long, brown hair behind her ear and, softening her voice, said,
“Sorry to tell you this, but he died almost a year ago, Mr. …”
“You can call me
Raymond. I’m very sorry to hear about your grandfather,” he said with sincere
regret in his voice.
Selena took a
step closer, more open and friendly. “He died of a heart attack last year,
right after Mardi Gras. How did you two know each other?”
“I own a jewelry
store in the Quarter. He came in there about ten years ago, looking for a gift
for his granddaughter—for you. I showed him a small ruby cross on a gold chain.
He said it was for your sixteenth birthday.”
Selena reached
inside and below the neckline of her dress and pulled up the little ruby cross
with the gold chain that she wore every day since Pop George had given it to
her a decade ago. “I never take it off,” she said, a little melancholy in her
voice.
Raymond smiled.
“Nor should you. A keepsake like that should be worn close to the heart. One
day, perhaps, your future husband will get you something as nice,” he said,
nodding toward her engagement ring on the hand that was holding the cross.
She glanced at
her ring with a slight frown. “My boyfriend’s in Los Angeles on a business trip
right now. He works a lot. Anyway, like I said, I’m sorry to tell you that Pop
George passed.”
“Thank you.
Sorry to barge in on you. I’ll be on my way.” He turned to leave.
“Wait,” said
Selena. “Can I offer you anything? I just had a big dinner party, and I have
all these leftovers.”
“It’s late, and
I’d hate to keep you up.”
She smiled.
“It’s okay, really. It’ll only take a couple of minutes to heat up the gumbo,
and the rice is still good.”
He thought it
over a second and then nodded. “Sounds wonderful. Thank you.”
She started for
the kitchen. “Sorry, I didn’t get your name,” he said.
She shot a
flirtatious smile his way. “Selena. Selena Dallion.”
Raymond had his
fill of gumbo while he and Selena traded stories about her grandfather who was
a pediatrician for decades in the Irish Channel of New Orleans. She found
herself quite smitten by the gentleman, and he seemed to feel the same about
her. This only made Selena feel guilty about her fiancé, which must have shown
on her face.
“Is everything
okay?” said Raymond.
She looked a
little surprised that he could pick up on that. “Oh, yes. I guess it’s just
getting late, and I’m a little tired. But thank you for all the memories of Pop
George,” she smiled.
“He was a good
friend,” he said, starting to clear the dishes.
Selena reached
for them instead. “Oh, no. Please don’t worry about that. I’ll just put them in
the dishwasher after you leave.”
Raymond stopped
her hands, holding them, which confused Selena for a moment. “I don’t
have
to
go,” he said, looking at her intently.
She was
speechless for a moment, caught between wanting him and her love for her
fiancé. “Oh … I can’t. I’m sorry.” She looked down at the floor, embarrassed,
and gently started to pull her hands from his, but he didn’t want to let go.
She looked back at him with slight alarm, and he picked up on this.
He smiled like a
Cheshire cat. “Forgive me.” He released her hands. “I seem to have gotten
caught up in the moment and misread signals. Not the first time it happens. I
hope you have a pleasant evening and congratulations on your upcoming wedding.”
Without another word, he got up and walked out the front door.
“Sorry!” called
Selena, but he was already gone. She quietly closed and locked the front door
and leaned against it, bewildered and a little sad. Had she been rude? Was she
sending mixed signals? She supposed she was flirting a bit, but it had been a
while since someone paid attention to her like that.
Selena loaded
the dishwasher and went upstairs to change for bed. She sat at the antique
vanity in her bedroom and brushed her hair absentmindedly, thinking about her
visitor downstairs. The whole thing was starting to make her feel uneasy, but
she supposed she was just very tired, as it was nearly 2:00AM. She shuddered, a
chill hitting her just then, and wanted nothing more than to crawl under the
covers and get to sleep.
She set her
brush down and went to turn out the light on the little milk glass lamp on the
vanity when she saw him in the reflection of the mirror. He was standing in the
corner of her bedroom, near the window with the breeze from outside blowing the
silk curtains about. Despite her shock, she had just enough time to wonder why
the window was open before he lunged for her.
***
Selena rushed into the bathroom. “What,
baby? What is it?”
Her fourteen-year-old
son stood shirtless with his back to the mirror, a panicked look on his face.
In the mirror’s reflection, she saw small trickles of blood all over his back,
coming from numerous raised bumps in an odd pattern on his shoulder blades.
“Mom! What is
it?”
She knew she’d
have to tell him, and she had dreaded this day ever since she found out she was
pregnant. She looked at her own reflection and noticed the saturation of silver
in her dark hair and the lines around her mouth and eyes. She was still pretty,
but felt old now, and she supposed secrets aged you. She wet a wash cloth and tenderly
wiped away the trickles of blood and inspected the bumps on his skin.
“Does it hurt?”
she asked him.
“It’s sore. What
is it? Do I need to go to the doctor?”
She ran her
finger over one of the bumps and felt something lightly scratch her fingertip.
Below the surface of skin, the bumps looked like little dark masses ready to
burst forth. She handed him an old shirt. “Put this on and come meet me in my
bedroom.”
A couple of
minutes later, there was a small knock on her bedroom door. “Come in,” she
said. The door opened a little, and she saw her son’s head peek in, his dark
hair hanging down around his gray eyes. She motioned for him to enter. He went
in and sat with her on her bed.
“Mom, what’s
happening to me?”
She smiled
sympathetically at him and ran her fingers through his hair and gently cupped
his face in her hands. “I was afraid of this, baby.”
“What, Mom?”
“You’re becoming
like your father, Noah.”