Read The Rosaries (Crossroads Series) Online
Authors: Sandra Carrington-Smith
The
Allens
had the habit of not closing their blinds, so he had an opportunity to study the interiors of the house a bit, and know for sure when someone was home. He laid his head against the seat of the car and lit a cigarette. Every time he thought about the rosary, and felt close to getting his hands on it, he experienced a feeling of euphoria. He needed the power of the rosaries, for himself and for Tess, if he ever hoped to have her in his life. As true to her religion as she was, she couldn’t be with a married man, even if he was divorced; in her strict belief, she was convinced that only death could rightfully separate two people that had pledged their lives to one another in front of God. If he could change the course of time, he could take himself back and not get married.
Celeste had done well by telling him. Sadly, he couldn’t let her live, given what she knew. He really liked her in a way, and felt that she was a gentle soul without a purpose;
unfortunately, drugs ruled her choices, and she would not hold back if someone asked her questions in exchange of cash. So he made sure she was never going to be identified – her fingertips, toes and ears were severed, and all her teeth were pulled out of her mouth. He shaved all her hair as well, and thrown her body far off shore; the fish would take care of the rest, especially after he inserted chunks of bloody meat in all her body cavities.
He doubted that anyone would be looking for her after the shuffle between Louisiana and North Carolina, and the fact that her drug habit had made her a home in the streets even before moving to a different state had certainly played in his favor. In any case, he didn’t have to worry about her any further. Celeste Hudson was no more.
He only worried about Belinda Allen now; in fact, he was obsessed with her and the rosary she might be hiding. The more he thought of it, the surer he felt that she had it. Not for long though; his plans were going to be finalized within the next few days.
Sister Justine was worried. Things really seemed to follow an order much different than the one she expected. The rosary was meant to remain in care of the nuns until all prophesied signs were in place, but fate had arranged that it, like The Book of Obeah, would get lost. She needed to get the rosary back, but so far her efforts had been futile.
After discovering that Sister Serene, the original keeper of the rosary, had secretly given it to her niece Celeste, Justine went in search of Celeste to get it back. Shortly after that, Hurricane Katrina ravaged through New Orleans, and people were transported all over different states. During one of her searches, she was told that Celeste had left New Orleans on one of the buses, but nobody seemed to know where she was gone. She sent Sisters to all the locations that were announced on TV, but nobody seemed to have any information about the girl or the rosary. That was until two days ago, when Sister
Lakeisha
called.
Justine wondered why the old lady in
North Carolina
had the rosary – Did Celeste give it to her?
Lakeisha
kept a good watch, but she never saw Celeste around the
Bouvier
household – the place where
Lakeisha
had found work as a caregiver, strangely enough – and she doubted the old lady ever met the girl. There was a strong chance that she would never know the exact dynamics, but what mattered was that Sister
Lakeisha
had identified the sacred rosary as being the one now in possession of Miss
Bouvier’s
niece, Natalie. Maybe
Lakeisha
could talk to the
young lady and explain how important it was for the rosary to go back to its rightful order of keepers.
The Prophecy was clear – only when four pre-determined signs had taken place around the globe, would the elders know it is time. From their chanting and drumming, vibrations would be sent out to affect the realities of the keepers and to direct them – unknown to them - to a secret meeting place.
The first sign, Hurricane Katrina, had already taken place, exposing racial wounds that needed to come to the surface for healing, and The Book of Obeah, after a long and complicated journey, had finally made it into the hands of its final keeper. Of course, the keeper was not aware of this, but he would learn of his role in due time.
The second sign manifested in the global economic crash of 2008. The global financial fall affected the core of humanity and left many feeling extremely vulnerable. When the carpet of material security was pulled from under their feet, those who were meant to stay on Earth during the shift were discovering new meanings of existence, and were opening up to a new level of understanding. Those, instead, who were anchored enough to the old ways didn’t agree to remain during the shift, and were quickly departing before all the signs would manifest. Justine didn’t understand it all, but knew one thing – the manifestation of the second sign had the purpose to teach humans to rise above fear.
The prophecy spoke of twin rosaries, but although Justine heard of their existence, she had only seen one, and she never touched it. When
Lakeisha
told her about her visit from
Elegba
, the Cosmic Prankster, Justine knew that something big was nearing its unfolding, and although she tried her best to reassure the good Sister over the phone, she felt edgy herself. She didn’t know what
Lakeisha’s
role was within the secret layout of the plan, but she strongly felt that prayers were needed, and they were needed fast.
Ole Man Paul was ready to close his store in the
Atchafalaya
Basin
and head home, when a strange fellow walked in. Paul was used to strange fellows in the bayou, but this one definitely took the cake. He walked in dressed in a black suit and a fancy hat, holding a gold-tipped cane he used to lean on as he walked. His skin was a deep mocha color, and the bit of hair that escaped from the hat was grey.
Paul was stocking bags of rice the moment the stranger walked in, and couldn’t help but drop one of the bags on his foot when he saw him. The stranger seemed to have trouble opening the door – Paul really needed to grease those hinges – and the chime rang three times before the man finally stepped into the store. Paul tried to look past him to see what kind of car he was driving. Certainly he was on his way to a costume party or to a really fancy evening affair, and that alone was quite odd; folks around here didn’t go to fancy evening parties, and it was too early – or late, depending on what side of the year one was assessing – for Mardi Gras.
The strange man walked around the store for a minute, whistling a tune Paul was sure he had heard before but couldn’t think of at the moment, and he walked straight to the counter.
Paul looked him over again, crisp and polished from head to toe, and walked up to the front door to look outside, since he didn’t hear the engine of a car approaching from the back of the store where he was standing.
No car. How had he gotten there? There was no public transportation here, and without a car or a boat it was quite impossible to move around.
He eyed the stranger suspiciously from under the visor of his fishing hat, and put his hands inside the pockets of his trousers while he walked toward the counter. Paul was a bulky man – over six feet tall and quite hefty – but he still moved around quite fast when he wanted, in spite of his age. Right now he didn’t want to; he walked slowly, with each step taking in a little more of the stranger waiting for him.
“Can I help you?” Paul said with his hands now folded against his chest.
The stranger smiled and nodded. He pointed to a pack of Black & Mild cigars with one of his long, manicured fingers. Paul noticed a strange gold ring sparkle on the same hand, the design of which appeared that of two snakes coiled around a cross.
“Cat got your tongue?”
The old man smiled. “No Paul, I was just thinking that I would like a nice drink to go with these cigars.”
Paul looked at him sideways. Did he know the strange old man? “I’ve got some beer in that cooler over there, if that’s what you’re after.”
“I was actually hoping for some Rum, or even a good glass of Cinnamon or Butterscotch Schnapps.”
“Buddy, you’ve got the wrong place. This here
ain’t
no bar.”
“I know that, Paul, or should I call you Francois?”
Paul froze in his spot. Who in hell was this man that knew his real name from before he moved to the Bayou? He changed it a long time ago to avoid a lot of questions about his family history, and everyone here knew him as Ole Man Paul. “Who are you? And what do you want from me?”
“Easy…easy…if you prefer, I will call you Paul. Happy?”
“I’ll be happy when you tell me who you are and what you’re doing here.”
“It doesn’t matter who I am, Paul. I am who I am; we all are who we are, although some aren’t who we think they are.”
“If you’re about done with your riddles, I’m ready to close. Is there anything else you want beside those cigars?”
“Well, Paul…there is, if you are willing to hear me out.”
“Okay, spit it out, and do it fast. I’ve got stuff to do.”
In reality Paul had nothing to do. Since the death of his wife many years before, he had nobody waiting for him at home, and his daughter Olivia lived in New Orleans.
“If you call going home to an empty house having stuff to do, then you are very content with yourself. I will cheer to that.”
“Listen, Man, folks around here knows patience is not my greatest virtue. You’re obviously not a local because I’ve never seen you before, but you seem to know me personally. What do you want from me?”
“I need your help, Paul. You see, your sister, Giselle Baton, was the temporary keeper of a rosary.”
Paul was speechless – who was this man that knew him and his family?
“Your great-niece, Melody, is now in possession of one of two rosaries, and she is the final keeper, but she is not to know that, because of events that have yet to take place.”
Paul could not see himself in that moment, but he could swear without looking that his face was white as a ghost – the first drop of blood had begun to drain away when the stranger spoke his sister’s name, and was now completely gone in a torrential flow to nowhere. His legs were shaking, and he felt faint.
“Don’t be afraid, Paul. All is well, and everything is happening in perfect order. There is one thing you must do for me – convince your great-niece, Melody, to bring her rosary to London with her, and don’t forget to bring your weapon.”
Even in deep state of shock, Paul heard the word ‘weapon’ filtering through. “Why will I need a weapon?”
“Things aren’t always as they seem, Paul. You have saved Melody once before, and you might have to do it again. Be careful, because who you think is, is instead who is not, and who you think isn’t, is who it is.”
Paul’s head was spinning, and he shook it in confusion.
“Don’t you go driving yourself mad with this now, Paul; you will see things clearly when the time comes. All you must do now is to ensure that Melody brings her rosary along.”
“Okay. I have no idea of anything you’ve told me about, but I will do as you say. And don’t worry about Melody, I will keep her safe.”
“That’s your final task, Paul; then you will be free.”
The stranger waited for Paul to process his words for a moment, then he headed slowly toward the door, limping slightly as he went. Paul stopped him in his tracks.
“Wait… about that Rum…I happen to have a taste of it in my personal stash. I keep it here for emergencies, you know, in case someone goes into shock or something.”
The stranger seemed pleased with Paul’s words, and walked back toward the counter, not limping much anymore. He took the glass Paul offered him and bowed his head slightly, holding his hat with the other jeweled hand. Paul was about to come around the counter and walk him out, when the stranger held up a hand and motioned him to stop.
“I will take my drink outside to the bench, if you don’t mind. And if it is not too much to ask, I would prefer if you don’t follow me.”
Paul nodded and went back around the counter. “Take care, and thank you.”
“My pleasure, Paul; I’m a little sad that you didn’t agree to be around after the shift, but I do understand. After all, all souls have free will, and that was your choice. But we will see each other again, my friend – this is not a good-bye, but rather a moment in time in which our paths have crossed.” With that he was gone. The door closed gently after him, and the chime rang three times.
When Paul finally gathered the courage to go outside, the stranger was gone. No engine sound was heard, and the water on the other side of the store appeared undisturbed. As he looked around for clues, Paul’s eyes fell on the bench near the entrance – there stood the empty glass and a half-smoked cigar, and beside those items, he saw two sets of Mardi Gras beads, red and black in color, arranged to form a cross; in the middle of the cross lay the ring the old man was wearing, with the twin snakes coiled around the cross. Two of the same coming together to trigger global healing. Paul kneeled beside the makeshift altar and cried. “I am humbled,
Legba
; and I am ready to fulfill my final task.”