Nancy K. Duplechain - Dark Trilogy 03 - Dark Legacy (3 page)

“Hey, you okay?”

She didn’t
respond for a moment, just staring off into space. Noah snapped his fingers.
“Nadia?”

Still staring
off into space, she reached out for his hand and held it in hers. Her eyes
widened again, but this time her face bore emotional pain and tears filled her
eyes.

“Hey, what’s the
matter?” Noah grew more alarmed by the second.

Finally Nadia
murmured “I’m so sorry.”

“Huh?”

“The blood, the
blood … your mother crying … your … your
wings
?”

Noah jerked his
hand away and looked at her like she was some kind of alien. “What did you
say?”

The cross signal
beeped, but neither of them moved.

Nadia’s gaze
returned to normal, and she wiped away a tear that was falling down her cheek.
She looked sympathetically at Noah. “I don’t know what just happened, but … did
that happen to you?”

“Did what happen
to me?”

“What I just
said, about the blood and your mother and … why did I see wings?”

Noah, horrified,
stared at her for a moment. She began to feel like she had done something
wrong.

“What are you?”
said Noah.

“I … I don’t
know. I don’t know what just happened. I touched you, and I suddenly saw
something that happened to you. That
did
happen to you, didn’t it?” Her
eyes pleaded with his.

Noah looked
away, still afraid of what was happening. “I have to go,” he murmured. He
hurried across the street, and was gone in a flash.

Nadia stared
after him, wondering how someone could run that fast.

In his mind, he kept replaying what had happened earlier when
Nadia touched him. And he also wondered how he was able to pick up Bus and
throw him so far, and how he was able to run so fast. Up until today, the only
strange thing about him was those damned wings. He figured that his abilities
had something to do with that, like he inherited them from his … well, he hated
saying
father
, but that’s what he was. And Nadia … she seemed pretty
surprised by what she did. Could she be one of those monsters, too?

***

After school the
next day, Noah paid a visit to Miles’ house in the upscale Garden District. He
seemed surprised to see Noah so soon but greeted him warmly.

“Please, come
in.”

Noah marveled at
the beauty of the house as Miles led him to the toasty living room. Noah sat on
the sofa near the fireplace where the coals still glowed. Miles sat across from
him in the wingback chair.

“Nice house,”
said Noah.

“Thank you. I
wasn’t expecting you so soon, if at all, to tell you the truth.”

“Yeah, well, you
said I should see you if I started to develop any, uh, abilities?”

Miles’ eyes lit
up. “Have you?”

“Well … I don’t
know if this counts, but …”

“Go on.”

“I can see in
the dark really good. I don’t need a flashlight or anything. I just noticed
that last night. I can run pretty fast. And I picked up this guy who was
messing with this girl. I threw him into the wall. I didn’t know I was that
strong. Is that something all of those Watcher Angels can do?”

Miles thought on
this for a moment. “Well, they are quite strong and fast, and some have
different abilities, but, from what you’re telling me, I believe you get yours
from … your mother.”

Noah tilted his
head and furrowed his brows. “Come again?”

Your mother
doesn’t know this, but she—as well as you—are descendants of
Gerard of
Roussillon.”

“And, who is
Gerard of Roussillon?”

“Ah, here we get
into the story of Charlemagne and his twelve holy knights. God granted them
powers to fight the dark side. Their children inherited these powers, and their
children’s children, and so on. Gerard of Roussillon was one of the original
paladins. He was given the ability of animals: speed, stealth, strength, sight,
hearing. Your senses and natural physical abilities are all heightened. It’s
quite useful.”

“I never noticed
anything like this with my mom.”

“Which brings me
to another point I must make. Not all who inherit power will come to know it. You
can either be told, or happen upon it by helping someone in need. You said
there was a girl yesterday who needed your help, so your power made itself
known then.”

Noah listened
carefully, his eyes wide with excitement, grinning. At last he said, “So, we’re
like superheroes.”

Miles laughed.
“Perhaps. Please refrain from wearing a cape and mask. It will only draw
attention to you.”

“I don’t know. I
think I’d look pretty good in a mask and cape. Maybe some underwear on the
outside of my tights.” He laughed. “Man, that’s pretty cool. I’d much rather be
that than those …
things
.”

“It’s not all
fun and games. You have to be cautious. You must not tell anyone, and you have
to be very careful with how you use your abilities so as not to attract
attention. It was good of you to help that girl yesterday, but always be
cautious that anyone or anything can be watching you. Be
careful
, Noah.”

He nodded. “That
girl I helped yesterday … something kind of happened when we touched. She saw
what happened to me when I tore off my wings. Would she be a paladin, too?”

“Knowing
someone’s history by touching them is a gift, and it’s traced through the Yvon
bloodline. Who is this girl? What’s her name?”

“Nadia.”

His eyes
widened. “Nadia Ancelet?”

He shrugged. “I
didn’t get her last name, but she’s staying at that convent near City Park.”

Miles chuckled.
“That’s Nadia. I know her and her family very well. So, her ability finally
showed up. It seems you two were a catalyst for each other. I don’t know if
that was fate or just an extraordinary coincidence. I’ll pay a visit to the
convent later this evening and talk to her, reassure her what she’s going
through is normal for us.”

“Us?”

“Paladins.”

“Oh, yeah. It’s
still kind of hard to wrap my head around everything. So, what’s your ability?”
Noah put up air quotes for
ability
.

“I’m a healer,
among other things.”

“What other
things?”

Miles chuckled.
“
Other
things.”

Noah was
intrigued but decided to drop it. “Cool. Well, thank you. For telling me all of
this,” said Noah, standing.

“Of course.
Please let me know if I can help you with anything else.”

“Sure thing. Well,
I gotta go. I have a job interview. Thanks again, Mr. Knighten.”

“You can call me
Miles. If you don’t mind, what are you applying for?”

“Oh, this
chicken place near my neighborhood.”

“I see. Please
forgive my curiosity, but what are your plans for your future? College?
Career?”

Noah shrugged.
“I always wanted to travel. See the world. Actually, I thought about joining
the Navy. I think I’d like to be a SEAL.”

“That’s very
commendable. Why do you suppose you’re drawn to this line of work?”

He rubbed the
back of his neck. “Don’t know. It’s just something I always thought about, like
since I was eleven I think. I read this National Geographic with a story about
the SEALs, and I thought it was pretty cool. I’d really like to do something
like that.”

Miles smiled
slightly. “And this chicken job. Do you believe you need this?”

“Yeah, it’s my
fault my mom got fired, so I want to help.”

Miles considered
this thoughtfully and said, “Would you be interested in working for me?”

“Um … what, uh,
doing what?”

Miles shrugged.
“Running errands, mostly. Maybe chauffer me around. As long as it doesn’t
interfere with your schooling, of course. But I do pay well.”

Noah scrunched
his eyebrows in deep thought.

Miles smiled
politely. “It’s just an offer. Don’t feel you have to say yes.”

“Oh, no! It’s
not that. I just don’t know how I’d run errands for you. I mean, I have an old
bike in our garage. Mom has a car, but I hate to use hers if she needs it.”

“I see. Follow
me, please.”

Miles led Noah
to his two-car garage on the side of the house. A black, new model Mercedes and
a newly-restored, dark charcoal gray 1968 Dodge Charger were parked there.

Miles gestured
toward the Charger. “You would be driving this.”

Noah’s mouth
hung open. “Um … okay.”

Miles laughed.
“Then I can expect you Saturday?”

Noah managed to
nod, not taking his eyes off the Charger.

“Good. We need
to take a trip to St. Mary parish. Be here at ten o’clock.”

Miles wasted no
time in getting down to business. As soon as Noah arrived, he led him to the
big table against the back wall in the living room where there was a book
opened to show an old sketch of another book with a blank, leather cover.

“Hey, did you
get to talk to Nadia?” said Noah.

“Yes. She was as
surprised about her lineage and abilities as you were. She said she wished her
parents would have told her, especially her father who carries the bloodline.
She’s a little upset right now because she hasn’t heard from them since the day
before yesterday. I told her they’re probably having the baby. I called a
friend of mine in Paris to check in on them.” He tapped the book in front of
him. “Now, this is why I asked you to meet me here today.”

“Yeah, you said
we’re going to St. Mary?”

“Yes.” He
pointed to the picture in the book. “This is what we’re looking for. This is a
grimoire. Do you know what that is?”

He shook his
head.

“It’s a book of
spells, written by a witch or sorcerer. This particular grimoire is referred to
as the Book of Avelina. My friend, a fellow paladin—Father Ben Olivier—who has
the gift of prophecy and vision, said this book is very powerful and that we
need to get it. It was written in the ninth century by Avelina, the
granddaughter of the original paladin Anseis, who had the gift of magic.”

“And you think this
ancient, all-powerful book found its way to St. Mary Parish of all places.”

Miles glanced at
him over his shoulder and raised an eyebrow. “My boy, when dealing with magic,
anything is possible.”

Miles put on
some latex gloves and unrolled a series of musty, yellowed papers near the book.
They were family trees. On the first page, there were thirteen
drawings—profiles of men. At the head and very top of the chart, the caption
under the man’s face read: Charlemagne. Below him, in a line of twelve faces,
were the names of his twelve paladins: Roland, Anseis, Oliver, Berenger,
Samson, Yvoire, Gerin, Engeler, Yvon, Gerard of Roussillon, Oton, Gerer. The
next pages were family trees for each paladin.

Miles turned to the page for Anseis’
family tree and pointed to a name: Avelina. “She is the one who created the
grimoire.
It
has changed hands throughout history. For a few centuries, it was with a coven
of Avelina’s descendants in Germany. Then it somehow found its way to the U.S.
during the time of the British Revolution. A British general used it to win
battles, but when he died, it was picked up by some witches near Salem, where
it stayed until the Salem Witch Trials. A coven of witches fled to the South,
where the grimoire was eventually picked up by some witches in the Appalachian
Mountains. It then traveled with a man to Louisiana at the turn of the
twentieth century, and it was picked up by Houma Indians here in South
Louisiana.”

“Why would the Houma need it?”

For the same reason a coven would need
it. There are obviously some paladin descendants in the tribes. I know one
Houma tribe with a healer paladin, a descendant of Charlemagne just like I am.
He trained someone I know in Vermilion Parish.

“Do you think his tribe has the book?”

“I called him. He said that a long time
ago, there was suspicion of one of the tribe members in St. Mary Parish.”

“He thinks they have it?”

“He said he’s not sure, but he’s heard
of strange things happening in that area, but that was back in the nineteen-sixties
and seventies. When he and a few of the tribe elders investigated, they found several
unusual deaths and evidence of skin walkers, but they couldn’t figure out who
was doing it. He said any other reports of skin walker-type activities stopped
in the early eighties.”

“I’m afraid to ask.”

Miles half smiled. “Someone with the
gift of magic can use spells to transform themselves into animals. Sometimes
very dangerous animals.”

“Like … um, werewolves?”

Miles looked at him with solemn eyes.
“Could be. Could be anything, actually. Anything that will help him or her get
what they want.”

“Your friend couldn’t do anything about
it?”

“He’s the only paladin in his tribe, and
he’s over a hundred years old. Back then, and even today, they can’t do much
more than the police. The only things they can do are related to tribal
business.”

Noah was quiet and reflective for a
moment while Miles flipped through the sheets of Anseis’ family tree. He
stopped on the most recent sheet and followed a branch that led to a name: Joe
Billiot. He pointed to it. “This is who we need to find. He is the last
recorded descendent on this branch. His grandmother, Elizabeth, had the book
when she lived with them. His father, Thomas, was the next to have it. He died
around the same time the skin walker activity ceased in St. Mary Parish.”

“Then it was him. He was the skin walker.”

“It would seem so, but we still need to
find his son Joe and see if he has the grimoire. You up for it?”

After a moment’s consideration, Noah
nodded. “Yeah. Let’s go.”

***

The first stop was the St. Mary Parish
Sheriff’s office. Miles told Noah to wait in the car. When he returned, they
stopped for a bite to eat at a diner on the parish line. Miles brought with him
a manila folder with papers that he got from the Sheriff’s office. He and Noah
sat in a booth and ate and went through the contents of the folder. Noah almost
choked on his fish Po-boy when Miles pushed a picture in front of him: a black
and white photo of a dead man with this tongue black and swollen, hanging out
of his mouth.

“Shit, what’s that?” said Noah, his
mouth full.

“A friend of a friend dug this file out
for me. It’s a murder investigation from the early eighties. This man—Christopher
Thibodeaux—was found dead in his home in Patterson.”

Noah wrinkled his nose and swallowed his
food. “So that has something to do with the Billiot family and the skin walkers?”

Miles nodded. “I believe so. The report
here says that lab tests were performed on the body, but they could find
nothing that would cause his tongue to swell like that. They figured it was
some sort of poison.”

“But you don’t think so.”

“If Thomas Billiot or his son was using
the grimoire, then this could possibly be the work of dark magic. As soon as
we’re done here, I’ll phone Cee Cee and ask her.”

“Are they all skin walkers?”

“No. The descendants of Anseis have the
gift of magic, but it’s up to them how they want to practice it. The
descendants in the Houma tribe—as well as other native tribes—use a form of
shamanism. Animal transfiguration is just one aspect. Not all of them choose
it. Witches sometimes use that particular ability, especially in Europe. Voodoo
does not use it, to my knowledge.”

When they finished their meal, Miles
phoned Cee Cee from the pay phone outside. Noah could hear her on the other end
of the line.

“What could cause a victim to have a
blackened, swollen tongue?” he asked her.

She was quiet for a second. “Corpse
dust. You know what that made of? Ground up infant bones.”

His eyes widened and his lips pressed
into a hard line. “Is that used in Voodoo?”

“Absolutely not! You take the life of an
innocent to enact a curse it’ll damn your soul. You know Voodoo ain’t about
that.”

“Forgive me. I didn’t mean to imply
that. I was just wondering if a Dark One would use such a thing.”

“That kind of thing’ll turn anyone to
Les Foncés.”

“Would the Houma know how to perform
such a spell?”

Silence on the other end of the phone,
and then, “Suppose so. Assuming they had instructions.”

“Like the Book of Avelina?”

“You found it?!”

“Not yet, but we have a good lead.”

“Be careful, Miles. Someone who’d make
corpse dust is someone you don’t want to mess with.”

“I’ll be careful. Thank you.”

Noah quickly whispered, “Ask her if
she’s with my mom.”

Miles waved for him to be quiet, but it
was too late.

“That Noah with you?! He don’t need to
be out chasing that book with you, Miles, you know that!”

“I needed him. Don’t tell Selena.
Please. I’ll keep him safe.” He hung up before she could say another word and
then turned to Noah. “Ready?”

***

Joe Billiot’s property was located in a
small, wooded area in the northwest corner of St. Mary Parish, right on the
border of Iberia Parish and just a few miles from Vermilion Bay which empties
out into the Gulf of Mexico. His modest, one-story home was built high up on stilts
to guard against flooding.

 Parked
in the driveway was a faded red Chevy truck that looked like it had seen better
days. There was a small, wooden shed with a creaky door that gently opened and
closed with the breeze. In the brief moments it was open, it revealed old
fishing nets and rusted farm tools.

They
walked up the steps to the front porch, dodging a dirt dauber making a mud nest
between a post and the ceiling. There was no bell, so Miles knocked on the door
with the faded green paint.

“Someone
actually lives here?” said Noah.

Miles
shushed him and then knocked again after a few moments.

“Maybe
he’s not home,” said Miles.

Noah
heard the sound of footsteps on leaves, faint, but there. “Someone’s out back.
Or some
thing
.”

“How
do you know?”

“You
don’t hear it?”

Miles
shook his head and smiled. “Your abilities come in handy.”

The
sound moved toward the shed. Noah hopped down from the porch and rounded the
corner in time to see a shotgun pointed in his face. At the other end of the
barrel was a man in his fifties with a balding head and dark, pockmarked skin,
in a brown camo jacket and olive slacks. There were two dead rabbits hanging
from his belt. Three ancient, white scars cut ravines into his face, and four
more on his right arm.

Noah
put his hands up. “Hey, wait up! We’re not here to hurt you.” He got a whiff of
sweat and tobacco.

“You
get the hell off my property, son!”

“Excuse
me, Mr. Billiot?” said Miles, his voice oddly calm.

“What
the hell y’all want?”

“Just
to ask you about some members of your tribe.”

“You
with the government or the state?”

“Neither.
Andrew Verret sent us here.”

Joe
Billiot slowly lowered his gun. “He still alive?”

Miles
nodded. “We’re looking for something—a book—that your grandmother Elizabeth
kept.”

Joe
cleared his throat and spit on the ground. “I know the book you’re talking
about. My sister took that book after our daddy died some twenty years ago.”

Miles’
eyes widened. “You have a sister?”

“’s
the matter? Ya deaf? Mean ol’ bitch, she was.” He seemed to reconsider his
words. “Wasn’t always like that, though. Guess Daddy made her that way. Made us
both that way.”

“Do
you know where I can find her?”

Joe
looked Miles up and down. “Why ya so interested in that damned book? Guess ya
know what’s in it. Nothing good can come of it, so ya just soon go back where
you came from. Tell that piece of shit Verret he can kiss my ass.”

“Please.
We need that book to keep it out of the wrong hands.”

“Good
luck gettin’ it back from Millie. She left the tribe damn near two decades ago
and moved up to Vermilion Parish, last I heard. Don’t even know if she’s still
alive.”

“We’d
still like to try. I don’t suppose you have an address?”

“Hell
no I don’t. Last place I saw her was in Lafayette, prob’ly a year after she
left here.”

Miles
considered this. “Well, then, we thank you very much for your time.”

Joe’s
deep-set eyes looked Miles up and down. “Ya say you gettin’ that book back to
keep it safe?”

“Yes.
You have my word.”

He
spit on the ground again, went into his house and came back out a minute later,
holding an old, ragged, homemade doll. He handed it to Miles. “If ya find her,
give her this. She used to sleep with it all the time. Only thing nice Daddy
ever did for her. He was pretty skilled in making crafts. Learned it from Maw
Maw Beth.”

Miles
gingerly took the doll in his hand.

“Keep
it,” said Joe. “Just collectin’ dust in there.”

“Thank
you.”

Before
Miles and Noah left, Joe said, “If ya find her, tell her …” He looked as though
he wanted to say something tender but never finished his sentence. He closed
his mouth and walked away.

When
Noah was back behind the steering wheel he said, “What’s that guy’s problem?”