Chapter Nine
Sweet Dreams Plantation House
The tension that was her constant companion, even as she spoke with Flynn, finally slipped from Grace’s shoulders, and she relaxed—as she had not done in years.
Running a business in a world where only men ran businesses did not allow for relaxing.
Even the small respite she’d had on Sundays evaporated when she’d been arrested.
The trial and scandal had increased her stress level tenfold, leaving her frightened and cowardly—starting at shadows, imagining all sorts of weird dangers.
Grace had found herself habitually putting on a brave face, an intentionally placid expression, simply to avoid the sympathy of false friends.
Friends who would leap at a chance to take advantage of her.
I was acquitted. Besides, that’s all in the past. She was building a new life for herself at Sweet Dreams.
Grace let those thoughts go, stared into the bayou night, and permitted her intellect to drift.
All sorts of images flooded her mind. Cats, storms at sea, something that resembled a Voodoo gris-gris, a wooden ship, and a man.
The man’s image was elusive and vague, yet it flickered before her like a phantasm.
He might resemble Lucien Flynn. There I go, imagining things again.
That too, had become a habit to ward off depression.
As for the man resembling Flynn, all she could be certain of was that her mind’s eye saw him as dark.
Behind him, stood a phalanx of sailors and women from another century.
Their number covered the deck of the ship.
He drew a cutlass from the scabbard at his side and pointed it straight at her.
She jerked backward then stood. No! She would not yield to fear this time.
Beyond her in the bayou, the silhouette of a sailing vessel faded into the darkness.
A Baltimore clipper, by the shape, but then even a partial vision of such a ship was impossible.
Grace shook her head. I’ve been awake too long and worked myself to exhaustion. No wonder she was imagining wooden ships where none could be.
Her stomach rumbled.
Evidently, I also forgot to eat.
She scrambled to her feet, and picked up the lantern. As she stepped off the dock, Grace swore she heard someone whisper, “Take care.”
Nonsense, it’s just the rising breeze. I need food and a good night’s sleep. That’s all.
She made her way to her bedroom, via the kitchen, where she snagged an apple.
By the time she was ready to douse the lights, she was still too tense to sleep.
Grace grabbed her music box and the log book, which had bored her to sleep before.
The reason she never read more than a page or two at a time.
She wound the box. Then, with Early One Morning tinkling in her ears, she opened to the marked page.
“March 30, 1814. Sunrise at four bells…” She skimmed the regular daily log items. Until she reached an entry labeled, Meeting: Will take on three passengers bound for Mexico. The escape agent will bring all documents necessary to prove the freedom of the three. Departure at high tide….”
An hour later, Grace marked her page, closed the book and set it on the table beside her bed. She tossed and turned, dreaming in snatches about escaping slaves and pursuing slave catchers.
***
Psychically turning the pages, Luc leafed through the log book on the table beside Grace’s bed. Every recorded incident slicing through his memory like a knife.
Where did she get this?
What would she think when she read about his curse?
It wasn’t an event he enjoyed recalling, yet the memory never faded. Some full moon, after he’d gained her trust, he’d confess all. She wouldn’t believe. Caleb, his own brother, hadn’t believed. Denying, until no alternative had been possible.
Awareness of Grace, the house, and the grounds faded as he delved deep into memory of the first visit with his brother after the curse had been cast.
14 December 1814, several days after Mawu Anaisa had cast her curse.
Days ruled by confusion so great Luc had refused to see Caleb.
Then, at his invitation, his brother had come to the Only Love.
Luc had watched shock, fear and confusion chase across Caleb’s face as he’d appeared out of thin air.
His body translucent enough for Cal to see the ship’s rail behind him.
They’d talked, reminisced, and shared silences.
Luc had learned his father had died. Then Caleb insisted that he stop his tricks and come home to Britain.
Luc had tried to explain. The curse was real, and going home was impossible.
His brother had cycled from incredulity, to possibility, to certainty and vain hope then back to disbelief.
When the moon had begun to set, he’d hugged his brother. Their parting were words etched deep in memory. “Cal, know that I’ll ever think of you. Live a good life, brother. Live it for me.”
“You as well, Luc. I can’t know what your future will be like. However, in those moments when you live and breathe and feel, live well. Live for the love we have for each other.”
“I promise to try.”
The last of the moonlight had disappeared, and Luc’s physical being along with it.
His brother had stared into the shadowed space where Luc, although invisible, still stood.
He’d known his older brother was frightened out of his wits, though Caleb would never admit so.
Luc had suffered no small amount of fear himself. What would his future be like, cursed to be fully human only when the moon was full?
He couldn’t imagine. However, now he knew more than he cared to, and in some ways, it was worse than death.
The dogs, who slept beside Grace’s bedroom door, stirred, rose, whined and scratched at the door, rousing him from painful thoughts. “What is it my friends?” It hadn’t taken long to gain their affection and respect. Unlike the horses, Mercury and Mars seemed undisturbed by his cursed state.
“Woof,” they chorused.
“Intruders? I’ll deal with them. You stay here and guard Grace.”
The dogs stared, and as one tilted their heads in understanding.
Mars settled at the foot of Grace’s bed.
Mercury stood guard at the door. Luc passed quickly through the door and the floors.
When he reached the kitchen, he hovered in a darkened corner.
Clouds curtained the nearly full moon, leaving an occasional beam.
If he crossed one, he’d be visible. Here in the dark, the trespassers could not see him.
He waited. Every spectral sense alert. If he was lucky, they were only young men out on a lark and unaware that anyone lived at Sweet Dreams. Luc hadn’t been lucky in a long time.
Indeed, the intruders were two men, not curious teens.
One man was heavy-set, with a graying brown scruff covering his jowls.
The other was thinner, but just as scruffy with dirty blond hair and beady black eyes on either side of a nose that’d seen more than one break.
That fellow was Davy, and Luc had followed him around the house the day the fencing had been delivered.
The jowly fellow, Luc had seen around Guidry’s tavern on more than one occasion. The patrons had called him Billy.
Each carried a cudgel and sported a gun belt with holster and pistol.
Davy carried at least one knife at his waist. His clothes were as grimy as the color of his hair His cohort, Billy, had the hilt of a blade sticking out from the top of his left boot.
“You smell something? Like cinnamon. And maybe sulfur?” Billy whined.
“Don’t smell nothing but swamp and dirt. You’re nuts. Now shut up.”
As they moved through the space, Billy tossed aside any object in his path. When he managed to demolish whatever it was, he smiled.
They’d wake Grace if they didn’t stop. Luc sensed her restless stirring and the dogs moving to her side, seemingly uncertain what to do about the woman they guarded.
“Damnit! Stop being so gol-durned noisy,” Davy cursed.
“What’s it matter? Ain’t no one within ten miles to hear nothing.”
“Ain’t so,” Davy informed him. “I met the woman who lives here. She’s nosy, mean and cold. Heard tell she got two dogs she’d sic on us quicker than a catfish can jump. Last thing we need is to wake her up.”
“I s’pose. A lone woman ain’t got no business living out here.” Billy grumbled. “Why didn’t we wait ’til we knew she was gone?”
“Cause the boss said he wanted it done now. He said, do it fast and clean. We don’t find nothin’ this week, he’ll hire someone else, and we don’t get paid. Besides, throwing trash is a waste a time.”
“Fine.” Billy said. “Let’s get a move on. I wanna get home and get some sleep. Gotta work my regular job in the morning.”
“Quit your bitching,” Davy barked. “The money we’ll make when we find it is worth some lost shut eye.”
“I don’t know,” the other man groaned again. “A hundred dollars sounds like a lot a money. But the boss seems mighty anxious. Bet we could get more out of him.”
“Got to find the doll first. You take that north wall. I’ll search the old ovens and pantries.”
That’s right. You two split up. Taking you down one at a time will be much easier.
Luc smiled.
Davy made a beeline for the pair of huge iron stoves set next to a trio of brick ovens. Billy lumbered off toward the north wall where he pressed on bricks.
Does he imagine he’ll find the keystone for a secret room or compartment?
The walls were thick, but not that thick. One quick look at the width of the doorframe would reveal that no room or compartment could hide in that wall.
Luc glanced across the room at Davy, who was opening oven doors and lifting burner covers. He won’t find anything either. I’ve spent years searching all of Sweet Dreams. Doesn’t mean I can’t have a bit of fun.