Only By Moonlight (19 page)

Savannah perked up. “Good point. How’s your
arm, and how are you doing out here in exile?”

“The arm’s fine. Just itching like crazy
because it’s healing. And I don’t give a crap about reporters or
gossip. I’ve got a real problem,” LaShaun said, her taste for food
drying up on her tongue. She poured a glass of lemonade for
Savannah from a glass pitcher.

Savannah sighed as she climbed the steps to
the porch. “This isn’t just a chance for girlfriends to get
together type lunch, is it? This is a ‘I need a lawyer’ lunch.”

LaShaun smiled at her friend despite her
troubled thoughts. “Stop trying to make me laugh, crazy woman.”

“From the look on your face, you need it,”
Savannah replied. She accepted the lemonade, took a long sip, and
squared her shoulders. “Okay, talk to me.”

“I’m not even sure how to explain it.”
LaShaun paced instead of sitting down.

After a few seconds of watching LaShaun walk
the length of the porch and back, Savannah shrugged. “Take your
time. I’ll just help myself to some food.”

“Uh-huh.” LaShaun continued to pace for a few
moments longer. Suddenly she stopped, turned her back to Savannah,
and gazed into the distance. Sunlight and blue skies made a stark
contrast to the dark subject she had to broach. Then she faced her
friend. “I want to make sure Chase isn’t elected sheriff.”

Savannah froze in the act of bringing a fork
full of chicken salad to her mouth. “S’cuse me?”

“I’m not sure I can save Chase from the demon
trying to take over him in time. The election is less than a month
away and...”

“Back the hell up.” Savannah dropped the fork
in her hand. She didn’t notice it bounce from the plate onto the
floor. “Please tell me you didn’t say something about demon
possession. Please.”

“The signs are clear, Savannah. I… I’m losing
him slowly.” LaShaun’s legs felt weak. She finally sank onto a
chair.

Savannah pushed the food away. “I don’t think
either of us is in the mood to eat right now. Keep talking.”

“Do you think they’ll charge Chase for
shooting Greg?” LaShaun asked.

“Unlikely. Greg had a knife, he held two
women hostage, and injured one of them. Some may question that he
overreacted,” Savannah replied.

“Greg’s parents for sure,” LaShaun broke
in.

“Oh yes, there is going to be a lawsuit.
Here’s the odd thing, that lawyer trying to get Manny Young out of
prison is advising them.” Savannah nodded.

LaShaun blinked hard as that news rattled
around her brain. “What is going on?”

“He’s not representing them. One of his pals
from New Orleans is the attorney of record. He’s a top civil
litigator in the state, too. If I had to guess, I’d say they’re
going to argue that the use of deadly force wasn’t necessary. But
we know better. Right?” Savannah stared hard at LaShaun.

“I knocked the knife out of his hand,
Savannah. Chase saw the knife on the floor, but he shot Greg
anyway.” LaShaun shuddered at the words she hadn’t dared to speak
aloud. She had only whispered them in prayers offered up for
guidance on what to do.

“So Greg surrendered?” Savannah said in a
steady, measured manner. The friend had transformed into the
experienced attorney.

“What?” LaShaun stared back at her.

Savannah sat on the edge of her chair. “Chase
faced a dangerous situation. Things moved fast, I mean like a high
speed train bearing down on him. Any cop will tell you that once a
hostage is hurt, the plan is to neutralize the threat. There’s no
time to say, ‘Gee, I sure hope he doesn’t get his hands on that
knife again’.”

LaShaun gazed back at her friend in silence
for several moments. Finally she let out the breath she’d been
holding. “I was there, Savannah. Chase didn’t have to shoot Greg.
He wanted to hurt him.”

“Of course he wanted to protect you, and the
girl. Don’t forget he had two people at risk,” Savannah
insisted.

“I’d pretty much kicked that kid’s ass and
Chase knew it, Savannah! He’s seen me defend myself before. I’m no
damsel in distress in a fight.”

“Hmm...” Savannah eased back in the seat.

“M.J. asked me about Chase’s personality
change. He’s more aggressive on the job. Look at the kid he
arrested a week ago or so.”

“A known drug dealer,” Savannah
countered.

“I know, I know.” LaShaun massaged the tight
muscles in her neck. “On the surface he’s just a tough cop getting
the job done, the perfect man to be sheriff.”

“He’s moved ahead of Dave Godchaux in the
polls according to the newspaper this morning,” Savannah
replied.

“I feel like I’m going crazy.”

“Ahem, you said it,” Savannah murmured. She
held up both hands when LaShaun glared at her. “Will you listen to
yourself? Chase is saving lives, and you call it demon
possession.”

“No, that’s not what I...” LaShaun stomped
over to the chair and sat again. “Okay, pay attention. This is me,
the girl who stirred up some seriously dangerous supernatural shit
back in the day. Remember? I have visions of things that have
happened. I don’t usually see happy ever after events either, so
this is no fun for me.”

Savannah leaned forward. “You’re right. I
need to listen to you. Lord knows you used that voodoo stuff on me
enough when we were kids. You hated my guts back then. Whew!”

“So can we stop debating if I’m just
imagining things please? I need your advice,” LaShaun snapped.

“Legal advice I got, but don’t ask me about
paranormal phenomena. They didn’t have a course on that in law
school,” Savannah said, totally serious. When LaShaun squinted at
her, Savannah smiled. “You haven’t described Chase doing anything
more than being a zealous lawman. And you’re sure Chase knew he
didn’t have to shoot Greg?”

LaShaun turned to stare into the woods, land
that had been in her family for five generations. She knew every
inch, every leaf and every tree still standing. “Chase is good at
what he does. He could have taken control of Greg without pulling
out his gun. That wasn’t the man I know and love.”

Savannah stood. “Then honey, you don’t need a
lawyer. You need a powerful voodoo woman, and that’s you.”

“I’m too close to Chase to be of any use. I
can’t concentrate because I’m so scared for him. Besides, the fact
that I brought it here ties my hands for some reason,” LaShaun said
quietly.

“You’ve got to at least try,” Savannah
insisted.

“Odette LeGrange Rousselle would know what to
do. Only she can advise me,” LaShaun said.

“Yeah, except she’s...” Savannah took a step
back from LaShaun. She put a hand over her heart. “You’re not going
to do something creepy like...”

LaShaun faced her friend with a somber
expression. “Try to communicate with the dead. That’s exactly what
I’m going to do.”

***

LaShaun drove to Mouton Cove. She rehearsed
her speech over and over, both logical arguments and emotional
appeals. By the time she reached the sprawling ranch home, LaShaun
had her lines down pat. But she might as well have saved herself
the trouble. After a few moments of chitchat she made her pitch.
Miss Rose looked at her in horror.

“Non! Not even for Odette’s child would I
agree to such craziness. Haven’t you learned the dangers of calling
on the spirit world?”

“But Miss Rose, it’s not...”

“I said no,” Miss Rose cut her off
quickly.

LaShaun held up a hand when Miss Rose opened
her mouth again. “Miss Rose, at least let me finish a
sentence.”

“Um-humph,” Miss Rose retorted. “You gonna
hafta to make this argument real good.”

“Our family journal, the oldest one from my
ancestor Jacques LeGrange, has a lot of... guidance about
connecting to the other side. I’m not as strong as Monmon Odette
was, even in her later years,” LaShaun said.

“You mean when we both got old. That’s a
strange way to try and sweet talk me.” Miss Rose squinted at
her.

“Monmon Odette tried to banish the spirit
when she was young. Only she didn’t. For almost two hundred years
our ancestors have been calling this thing forth. As she lay dying,
Monmon Odette tried to tell me what to do, but... she ran out of
time.” LaShaun paused as the memory of seeing her beloved
grandmother slip away. She blinked as her eyes filled with
tears.

Miss Rose’s expression softened. “Oui. We all
run out of time eventually. You’re monmon is gone, child.”

LaShaun wiped a stray tear from her cheek.
“I’m not using this as an excuse to cling to Monmon Odette. Miss
Rose, what’s happening to Chase is just one part of the threat. I
think more is at stake. Do believe in coincidences?”

“Life can be random you know,” Miss Rose said
cautiously. “What are you talking about?”

“Manny Young has a high powered lawyer out of
New Orleans trying to get him out of prison. This same lawyer is
friends with Quentin Trosclair, and shows up at a party with Greg
Graham’s parents. They all know each other.”

“Not too many folks live in Vermilion Parish,
so it’s natural they would. The old families have close ties. As
for the lawyer, bet he went to school with one of them. Am I
right?” Miss Rose asked.

“Yes, I believe he’s from an old New Orleans
family as well. You heard about Chase shooting Greg.” LaShaun let
out a long slow breath. She still couldn’t say the words without
feeling a chill.

“The whole state has heard, cher.” Miss Rose
shook her head. “Boy has gone wild.”

“The lawyer representing Greg’s family was
recommended by Manny’s lawyer. Savannah referred them to someone
else, but they switched. Still believe in coincidences?” LaShaun
watched the older woman’s expression for signs.

“Go on,” was all Miss Rose replied.

“I did more research. The land Greg and the
other kids were on used to be part of the Metier Plantation. But it
was first owned by Jules Octave LeBrun.” LaShaun sat forward. “His
daughter married Georges Trosclair. The couple got it as a wedding
present and...”

“Sweet mercies in heaven,” Miss Rose muttered
and stood abruptly.

Startled by her behavior, LaShaun jumped to
her feet as well. “Are you okay?”

“Cher, you know I’ve researched family lines
in Vermilion Parish for over forty years.” Miss Rose looked at
LaShaun.

“I know it sounds crazy, but--”

“Therese LeBrun married Georges, this I know.
They also got more than land as a gift. Her daddy gave her a
fourteen year old slave girl named Chloe to take with her. She was
one of your ancestors.” Miss Rose sat down hard again. “Odette
never told you this story, eh?”

“No. Are you...” LaShaun waited for her to go
on.

“I’m not sick, child. Don’t worry about me,”
Miss Rose said, answering the question on LaShaun’s lips before it
was uttered. “I know who we need to call on for this task. I don’t
like doing it, but I’ve needed their help twice in the past thirty
years.”

“I don’t understand.”

LaShaun’s entire body tingled. The stinging
intensified, like a thousand tiny electric needles stabbing her
skin. Miss Rose grabbed LaShaun’s hand and held it for several
minutes until the feeling began to subside. When LaShaun sighed
with relief, Miss Rose let go and left the room. She came back
carrying a beautiful book with a bronze leather cover. A copper
clasp held it closed. Only when Miss Rose placed it on the table
did LaShaun realize the clasp was a lock. Miss Rose placed a small
key beside it.

“Odette loaned this to me years ago, one of
your family books, for research. She teased me about how much I
would owe her in fines if she charged late fees like a library.”
Miss Rose did not smile despite the joke. Instead she wore a
subdued expression as she stared at the book.

“This is lovely craftsmanship.” LaShaun used
the key to unlock the clasp. She opened the book with care and read
the inscription on the second page. “Une étrange histoire de notre
famille, the strange history of my family.”

“Start on page seventy-seven while I’m gone.
I’m going to call them.”

“Wait, call who?” LaShaun spoke to the older
woman’s retreating back.

“The twins, and I hope they’ve stopped their
infernal bickering,” Miss Rose muttered as she left.

***

Two hours later, LaShaun was still reading,
seated comfortably in an overstuffed chair in what Miss Rose called
le parloir. The modern world and those who no longer spoke
Louisiana Creole French could jump in the lake, to quote her. She
wasn’t giving in to time or the lack of respect for traditions in
Vermilion Parish.

In the time waiting for “them” to arrive,
Miss Rose had been too preoccupied with preparations to answer
questions. LaShaun gave up trying to figure out why she was being
so mysterious. Instead, she allowed the older woman to rummage
around in an old trunk stored in an extra bedroom. Besides, the
book pulled LaShaun into the long ago world of her ancestors. Soon
she was engrossed in the tragic story of Chloe.

At fourteen she was torn away from her
parents and twelve siblings. Her tearful pleas not to leave them
were ignored. After all, she was no more than property. Why would
her feelings count to those who owned her? So she ended up on what
would later become the Metier Plantation. The account of her life
would be whispered for decades. Raped by the drunken Monsieur
Trosclair and his equally drunken friends, she became pregnant. The
young girl never recovered from the trauma of that awful night.
Enraged and jealous, Madame Trosclair declared the baby would be
sold immediately. True to her word, Madame Trosclair contacted a
slave trader though her husband resisted. At the prospect of losing
her baby, Chloe went insane. She smothered little Estelle and hung
herself. Chloe’s mother, known to be a woman of magic, cursed the
Trosclair couple. Over the next three years the young Trosclair
bride had three still born children. Madame Trosclair died at age
twenty-seven from a strange fever after suffering for three days,
her body covered with sores. It was said that she kept screaming
for someone to stop the baby from crying. Yet there was no baby in
or near the big house.