Authors: Terri Reid
Jean-Henri nodded. “Oui, I hear
the words from my soul. I hear the cries from my friends. I hear the voices
from the graves call out to me to warn you.”
“What can I do for them, Jean-Henri?”
she asked.
“Out in the gulf there is more
danger than you know. There is one who works to trap the souls of my friends,
my family. She works with the Diable, the devil; she lost her soul a long time
ago. You must be careful, mon ange. You must use all the power you have.”
Eloise nodded. “I am going to Maria
Leveau to seek some information. I promise that I will be careful.”
Jean-Henri smiled, satisfied. “I
feel peace inside me now.”
“Then now, you can go on to the
place you belong. Look around you. Can you see a light?”
Jean-Henri turned in the seat and
looked all around, “Ah, yes, lumière. I see it, the light.”
Eloise smiled. “That is where your
journey takes you. That is where you need to go.”
Jean-Henri turned back to her and
smiled, ‘Now, one thing before I go. Donne-moi un petit bec doux, cher!”
He leaned forward a placed a kiss
on her cheek. “A little kiss before I go.”
Then he winked again, grinned and
turned and walked toward the light.
Eloise placed her hand over her
cheek and smiled, unaware of the tears sliding down her face. “Au revoir, Jean-Henri.”
She took a deep breath, grabbed a
tissue, wiped her face and blew her nose. Then she put the SUV back in drive
and continued towards New Orleans.
Staying on Route 46, Florissant
Highway, she traveled through St. Bernard Parish, witnessing the devastation the
hurricane had done to that part of the state. Finally she came into New Orleans. She followed Claude Street west until it dumped into McShane Place. The
usually bustling streets were empty except for emergency crews moving
supplies. The roads were still laden with debris and many signs were down,
awnings tangled, and roofs and windows shattered. Trees were split or toppled
over and abandoned cars littered the streets. Eloise turned down a few side
streets in order to avoid congestion and questions. Finally, she came back to Rampart Street and to the cemetery.
She parked her car up on the
sidewalk as close to the cemetery gate as she could. She knew that every tourist
brochure warned people not to walk into the cemeteries of New Orleans without a
large group and tour guide. This was not due to the ghosts or phantoms that
might be lurking near the above ground gravesites. It was because you were
very likely to encounter thieves, drug dealers, and other ne’er-do-wells.
However, Eloise felt that most of those “unfriendlies” had left the confines of
the cemetery walls for greater pickings elsewhere in the abandoned city.
The cemeteries of New Orleans were
often called “cities of the dead.” Not only did the tombs look like buildings,
but the cemeteries were organized with streets and street signs much like the
cities of the living.
Because the water table in New
Orleans was so high, the residents realized early on that they could not bury
their dead in the usual manner. After several unsuccessful attempts, like
putting rocks on top of the coffins to keep them from rising to the surface, it
was decided that above ground tombs would be a better choice.
However, building an above ground
tomb could be quite an expense for a family, so the tombs in New Orleans
cemeteries are used again and again. It is common to bury all the members of a
family...or multiple families...in the same tomb, with names and dates added to
a plaque or headstone as necessary.
The St. Louis Cemetery #1 was the oldest
and most famous of over a dozen above-ground cemeteries in and around New Orleans. Eloise walked through the gate and entered the narrow paths that crisscrossed
throughout the cemetery. Over six hundred different edifices dotted the
cemetery, their designs resembling Moorish dwellings, temples, chapels,
palaces, and mosques. The paths were covered in smooth asphalt and the quiet of
the cemetery was broken only by the sound of Eloise’s heels slapping against the
ground.
She turned down a narrow path and gasped
softly. The ghost was beautiful. She was tall, with translucent ebony skin, a heart-shaped
face and dark, piercing eyes. She was dressed in a soft white floor-length gown
Eloise realized was a shroud.
“So, you are looking for me, perhaps?” the
ghost asked in a soft, melodic voice.
Eloise nodded. “If you are Maria Laveau,
I am.”
“And who would come to see the Queen of
Voodoo without a gift?” she asked, raising her eyebrows haughtily.
Eloise shrugged, “I apologize, I am
ignorant to the ways of voodoo and I have come here to learn.”
Maria laughed and then nodded her
approval.
“You do not seek for yourself, I think,
so you do not have to offer a gift to Maria,” she said. “What is it that you
desire to learn?”
“I have a job…” she began.
Maria interrupted. “I know of your work.
The spirits whisper of your works to me,” then she smiled, “Lizzy sends her
greetings.”
Eloise smiled in response.
“But there is one who does not approve of
your work,” Maria stated. “One who wishes to stop you.”
Eloise nodded. “Yes, I wish to learn how
to stop her.”
Maria tilted her head and stared
speculatively at Eloise for a moment. “You do not wish to run?” she asked.
Eloise shook her head. “No, I wish to fight.”
Maria started to pace slowly down the
asphalt walkway through the white marble tombs, Eloise followed her. “Why do
you wish to fight?”
Eloise shrugged. “Because I don’t like to
be pushed around.”
Maria laughed again and then stopped and
turned to Eloise.
“This spirit you seek is not only evil,
but mad. She seeks to enslave the spirits of those who wish to pass. She
seeks their power – their energy. She will kill you if you are weak.”
Eloise took a deep breath. “I have been
told that I have enough power to win. I have been told that I must have
faith.”
Maria stopped and considered Eloise’s
comments and then looked beyond Eloise towards the walls of the cemetery.
“You do have the power,” she finally
said, “But do you have the courage, I wonder?”
“I am not afraid,” Eloise stated firmly.
Maria smiled gently, “Of spirits and
death you are not afraid, but perhaps it is of life that you are timid.”
Eloise shook her head in confusion. “I
don’t understand…”
Maria held up her hand to stay Eloise’s
question. “No, this is not the time to worry, this is the time to prepare,” she
said, “You must learn about your adversary and you must find where she is weak
and strike her there. I will help you if I can, but my powers have become
limited because of the pain of my people.”
“Who am I searching for? Who should I
research?”
Maria started to slowly fade from
Eloise’s view, but before she disappeared she whispered, “Lalaurie.”
“Lalaurie,” Eloise repeated.
She looked around and found herself
standing in front of Maria’s tomb. It was a tall stone tomb, about six feet
tall and ten feet long. All around the outside of the tomb there were scratch
marks.
“When others ask a favor, they mark an x
three times on my tomb,” a soft voice whispered, “But for you, I grant your
favor without such a tribute.”
“Thank you for the name,” Eloise
responded.
Maria laughed, her voice echoing
throughout the empty cemetery. “That is not the favor I give,” she mocked.
“The Queen of Voodoo, her favors are always about love.”
Eloise shook her head.
“I do not need that kind of favor,” she
stated.
“Do you have the courage?” the voice
mocked.
Maria’s soft laughter followed Eloise
throughout her brisk walk back to the cemetery gate, the ever darkening sky
hurrying her footsteps. She was nearly out of breath when she stepped out from
beyond the gate.
“There are a couple of issues that we
have to work out.”
Startled, Eloise nearly screamed as
she spun around to see Paul leaning up against the side of the cemetery wall.
“What do you think you’re doing?”
she asked, her hand pressed against her heart.
Paul straightened and walked up to
her. “I thought we agreed that we were partners.”
Eloise shrugged. “I wouldn’t call
it an agreement, more like coercion.”
“Whatever you want to call it –
unless you want to be sent back to D.C., you and I work this operation
together,” he stated firmly.
“Fine,” Eloise said indifferently,
“Whatever you say, Major.”
Eloise started toward her parked
SUV. Paul was a few steps behind her and when she reached her car, he moved in
front of her and leaned against the door, blocking her way.
“And what does that mean, Eloise?”
he asked, “That as soon as my back is turned, you’re out the door working on
your own leads?”
Eloise turned and looked up at
Paul. “Listen, Major, I’ve been running my own operations for quite a long time
now. I have never needed a babysitter and I don’t need one now. I will take
precautions, if that will make you happy. I appreciate your help, but, quite
frankly, I don’t need it.”
“No, you listen, Eloise, we’ve
received three more bulletins about missing women in the New Orleans area. That’s
brought the number up to twelve,” Paul said, “These women are missing days and
sometimes weeks before the police can even get the information out. They are
all close to your age and were all by themselves.”
“Well, maybe I’ll be lucky number
thirteen and you won’t have to worry about me anymore,” she replied
sarcastically.
Eloise nearly stepped back when she
saw the anger in his eyes, but pride had her holding her ground. Too late, she
realized that she should have run when she had the chance. Paul’s hands shot
out and grabbed her arms, pulling her against him. He tightened the embrace
and Eloise found herself trapped between his legs and his arms, her breasts
smashed against his chest, her arms pinned to her side.
“Show me, Eloise,” he growled,
“Show me how you can take care of yourself in this kind of situation.”
He turned with her, so her body was
now pressed between him and the car. He moved his hands roughly up and down the
sides of her body. “Stop me, Eloise,” he breathed, his mouth close to her ear.
She turned to him and their eyes
locked. His hands stilled at her waist and he pulled her even closer. “Don’t
stop me, Eloise,” he whispered, lowering his face toward hers.
She knew he was going to kiss her.
She wanted him to kiss her. But she knew it would only lead to more pain. At
the last moment, she turned her head to the side. Paul inhaled sharply, turned
and walked away from her. She felt her heart break a little.
“Dammit, Eloise, I’m sorry, I
shouldn’t have done that,” he whispered, turning back to her.
Eloise trembled and closed her
eyes, a single tear tracked down her cheek. She felt his finger trace the path
of the tear and wipe it gently away. She blinked away the other tears and
looked up into his eyes. She took a deep breath. “I’m sorry too.”
Paul closed his eyes, but not
before Eloise saw the pain in them.
She shook her head. “No, no...I
mean I was wrong.”
He opened his eyes, a little
confused. “What?”
“You were right,” she admitted, “I
was so busy thinking about the paranormal, that I forgot about reality. I am miles
away from any kind of help, if the man waiting outside the cemetery had not
been you…”
Paul stepped forward and gently ran
his hand down her cheek. “Although even with it being me, you weren’t treated
fairly.”
“Paul, I know we have to work
together,” she said. “But I can’t get involved with you. The last time…”
Paul hesitated and then stepped
back. “You’re right,” he said brusquely, “Now is not the time to bring
emotions into the situation. Let’s drive back to your base and you can bring me
up to date on what you’ve learned so far.”
The change in Paul’s demeanor was
so abrupt that Eloise felt like a rug had been pulled out from under her. She
knew that a relationship with Paul would have been dangerous, but did he have
to give up so easily?
“Fine, Major, I’ll meet you at the
base camp,” she replied, letting herself into her car. In a matter of moments
she was accelerating down the street and away from Paul.
Paul stood by the road, watching
the car until she turned off onto Rampart Street. “But sooner or later,
emotions are going to get involved,” he said to her departing car.
Paul hopped into his Humvee and
followed Eloise back to base.
“Do you think I’m an idiot?
Zombies? Zombies for heaven’s sakes? Do you think this is a Hollywood horror
flick?” Paul asked, striding around the inside of the motor home.
Sally, dressed in black stretch
pants and a black top, calmly ate a handful of granola while she sat, cross-legged,
on the computer desk. Eloise sat back in the office chair with her feet propped
up on the desk. The sun had nearly set, casting a pinkish hue on the sunbeams
that filtered through the window blinds.
“Does he always act like this?” Sally
asked, grabbing another handful of granola.
“Only when confronted with things
he doesn’t understand.”
Sally shrugged. “Must be a fun
date.”
Paul stopped and glared. “I heard
that.”
Sally shrugged. “Listen, tall, dark
and military, there are things out there that you don’t understand. Hell,
there are things out there that I don’t understand and I have an IQ of 195.
But, nevertheless, they are out there.”
Paul turned to Eloise. “Is that
true?”
Eloise nodded. “Yes, she has an IQ
of 195. I saw the forms.”
Paul rolled his eyes. “No, I mean
about things out there that we don’t know about and that we don’t understand.”
Eloise sighed and nodded. “Yes,
sometimes I catch glimpses of things that I have never seen before. Shadows
that are dark and evil. Lately there seems to be more of them, but it’s not an
area in which I excel. One of my colleagues is working on that area of
research. Right now, my expertise is relocating spirits.”
Paul perched on the edge of a
stool. “So, zombies...this is crazy, right?”
Sally shook her head. “There was a
recent TV documentary... featuring a man who thought he had been turned into a
zombie and a scientist who thought that he had discovered a poison that could
turn a person into a zombie. I guess you never know what’s out there.”
“So, how does one go from a dead
person to a zombie?” he asked.
“If a dead person’s spirit can be reconnected
to his body through voodoo, the zombie has no will of his own, but remains
under the control of others,” Sally explained.
“So, what is this Lalaurie – a
voodoo practitioner?” asked Paul. “A bad witch, an evil spirit? And where is
it getting its power?”
“That’s the kicker,” Eloise
explained. “Many of those entities are actually demons or demon-wannabes who
want to do harm to others or who work for those in league with their master.”
“You mean like Satan worshipping?”
“Well, when they talk about a
caplata who performs evil spells and black magic, you can pretty much guarantee
that she’s made some kind of bargain with the devil,” said Sally.
Paul stood up and started pacing
again. “This is totally amazing.”
Sally turned to Eloise, “He’s
pretty much a black and white kind of guy isn’t he?”
Eloise chuckled and nodded. “Yeah,
yeah he is.”
Paul stopped in the middle of the
room and turned to face them. “Okay, so what do we do next?”
Sally nodded thoughtfully, “I like
that, an action guy.”
She pulled a clipboard from behind
her on the desk and, with pen in hand, proceeded to make a list.
“I like that,” Paul said, “A list
maker.”
Sally giggled and tossed Paul a
saucy wink.
Eloise opened her laptop and
started a search on “New Orleans” and “Lalaurie.”
Paul and Sally analyzed where the
largest concentrations of deaths, and therefore, spirits would be located and
plotted a matrix.
“Hey, this is interesting,” Eloise
said.
Paul and Sally looked up.
“The haunted history of the Lalaurie
Mansion in New Orleans is perhaps one of the best known stories of haunted
houses in the city. It tragically recounts the brutal excess of slavery in a
horrifying and gruesome manner because for more than 150 years, and through
several generations, the Lalaurie house has been considered the most haunted
location in the French Quarter.”
“Cool!” said Sally, moving over
next to Eloise.
“Cool?” asked Paul and Eloise
simultaneously.
“There’s more,” said Eloise.
“Madame Lalaurie was considered one of the most intelligent and beautiful women
in the city. But this was the side of Madame Lalaurie the friends and admirers
were allowed to see. There was another side. Beneath the delicate and refined
exterior was a cruel, cold-blooded and possibly insane woman.”
“Sounds like Madame Lalaurie is
certainly a person of interest,” Paul said.
“Yeah, a dead person of interest,”
Sally added.
Sally, reading over Eloise’s
shoulder, added, “Listen to this. According to the newspaper, the
New
Orleans Bee
, all of Madame Lalaurie’s victims were slaves she kept hidden
in an attic room. They were only discovered because of a fire that occurred
when she was hosting a party.”
The paper recounted the stories from
the firefighters who arrived to put out the blaze. At first they were confused
why the mistress of the home would want to bar them from her home. But later,
after their macabre findings, they understood. Slaves were found naked and either
chained to the walls in the attic or strapped to long narrow tables.
The firefighters testified that she
had performed some kind of grisly experimentations on her victims. Women had
their stomachs sliced open and exposed, so the inner workings could be
observed. Often the inside organs had been removed and wrapped around the
victims waists. One woman had her mouth stuffed with animal excrement and her
lips sewn shut.
They reported the men were in even
more horrible circumstances. Fingernails had been ripped off, eyes poked out,
and private parts sliced away. One man hung in shackles with a stick protruding
from a hole that had been drilled in the top of his head. It had been used to
“stir” his brains.
The final conclusion was the “experiments”
had been administered so as to not bring quick death, but to observe and
annotate the body’s slow and anguishing response to pain. Regardless, many of
them had been dead for quite some time. And of those who lived, many begged to
be killed and put out of their misery.
Eloise shuddered and wrapped her
arms around herself.
“Okay, well we have a pretty good
idea that we are not dealing with a nice person,” said Eloise, “So, what
happened to her when she was found out?”
“She got away,” Sally read.
“What!?!” asked Paul incredulously,
“After doing that, she just got away?”
“While they were putting out the
fire, the family made a run for it,” Sally added.
Eloise continued scanning the page.
“There are two rumors about her
final destination. Some think that she returned to Paris, but others feel that
she ran away to live with other relatives in the Louisiana area.”
Sally shook her head. “I can’t get
my head around someone who could do that to another human being.”
Paul nodded. “It’s the same kind
of madness that allowed Hitler and the Third Reich to perform experiments on
all of those Jews during the Holocaust.”
Eloise moved away from the screen.
“It’s not madness; it is evil, pure and simple. And when you allow evil to
take you over, you are capable of doing anything.”
Suddenly, the room around Eloise
got blurry and she was pulled away from Paul and Sally. She tried to call out,
but her voice caught in her throat. She reached out, but it was too late.
The villager was once again
grabbing her hand and pulling her towards the sea. But this time, instead of a
sandy beach, Eloise was in the marshlands that lined the Louisiana shoreline.
The sky was dark and stormy. The wind howled and sand struck her skin like
pellets.
Once again she was struggling
against him, bracing her feet in the mud, pulling back with all her might. She
looked around for something to grab hold of, but there was nothing. In the
distance she saw a woman wearing an old-fashioned full-skirted dress.
Eloise called to the woman. The
woman moved forward in the sand. When she got within a few feet of Eloise, she
smiled and then began to laugh.
That laugh! She had heard it
before. It was the same evil laugh from her other dreams. Eloise found herself
weakening, overcome with a feeling of despair. Her feet slipped in the mud.
The villager pulled her closer to the dark waters of the sea.
Screaming as one foot was submerged
in the cold waves, she tried desperately to pull back. She looked up at the villager;
he was now a grotesque caricature of a rag doll with black ragged seams sewn
all across his face. He pulled harder. She felt the tidewaters rushing around
her legs, her stomach, her neck, pulling her further and further into the
darkness. She tried to call out, but water filled her mouth and engulfed her scream.
Bubbles exploded from her mouth and nose as water enclosed her head. Eloise knew
she was going to drown.
Suddenly, two strong arms lifted
her out of the water and held her. Paul’s arms tightened around her as she
burrowed into his chest, shutting out the laughter and the horrid face of the
villager. She could hear the sea calm and could feel the warmth of the sun on
her body. Finally, the all of the sounds of the sea were gone.
She opened her eyes and found herself
in Paul’s arms, back in the motor home. She struggled a little, but he held
her close.
“Are you okay?” he asked, concern
creased his face.
She nodded, but then belied her
actions by trembling.
“Where the heck did you go?” asked
Sally, peering over Paul’s shoulder. “One second we’re talking about the evil
Madame Lalaurie – the next second you’re all white and cold. And look, you’re soaking
wet.”
“Let’s get you changed and into a
hot shower,” Paul said, and carried her back to her bedroom without waiting for
a reply, “Sally, get some water going for tea.”
Paul kicked the bedroom door closed
with his foot and sat down on the bed with Eloise still in his arms.
“Paul,” Eloise said, pushing
against his chest, “You can put me down now, I’m fine.”
Paul laid his cheek against the top
of her head and let his breath out in a long shudder. “Well, you’re a liar and
I’m certainly not fine, so let’s just sit here for a moment. Okay?”
Eloise smiled slightly and let
herself relax against Paul’s chest, enjoying the temporary comfort of his arms.
Paul tightened his arms around her.
“Okay, so what happened?”
Eloise shook her head. “I don’t
know, one minute we’re discussing evil and the next moment I’m back at the
beach fighting for my life.”
“Your experience, was it just like
last night?”
“Almost, but there were a couple of
significant differences.”
She shifted and sat up in his arms,
so she could see his eyes.
“I was in the marshes – not on a
sandy beach in Sumatra. I saw a woman standing on the beach. I think that she
was or at least represented Madame Lalaurie – she was dressed in 1800s attire.
She looked right at me – like she knew me. Then she smiled…”
Eloise trembled a little and Paul
tightened his arms.
“It wasn’t a friendly smile. Then
the laughter started again.”
“The same laughter you’ve heard before?”
Paul asked.
Eloise nodded. “Yes, it felt like
it was everywhere. I kept losing my footing and the villager...but maybe not
the villager...was leading me out into the water.”
“What do you mean ‘not the
villager’?”
“This time the villager had a face that
looked like it had been sutured in a thousand places.”
“So, how did you escape?”
Eloise paused for a moment and then
looked up, met Paul’s eyes and said, “You saved me, Paul. The water was over
my head, I could feel its pull and I knew that I was losing when suddenly you
picked me up and lifted me out of the water.”
She shrugged, and turned her head
away from him, just a little, “Once I was in your arms, the laughter stopped,
the storm ceased and I knew that I was no longer in danger.”
They remained silent for a moment;
then she looked up into his eyes and was caught by the tenderness she saw
there. He tucked her back into his embrace and held her tightly.
“You scared the hell out of me. I
didn’t know what else to do, so I was going to take you to the medic. When I
picked you up, you seemed to respond.”
“Well, you obviously did the right
thing. Thank you.”
“Eloise, I know this is hard for
you – but for now, can you trust me enough that we can work as partners?”
“How can I say no when you just
saved my life?”
“Good point. Now you owe me,” Paul
answered smugly, and then he stood and nearly dropped her on the floor, “Now go
take a hot shower. It’ll make you feel better.”