Possessed (11 page)

“
Of course you are. You’re
always hungry,” he said, as he put out the cigarette on the ledge
of the tub.

“
No, I’m not,” I tried to
make my voice as firm as possible.

He leaned closer and gently stroked my
cheek with the tips of his fingers. The scent of John the Conqueror
root was intense. When he spoke, his voice was soft and barely
audible. “Why are you so stubborn?”

“
Blame it on genetics and a
very moody spirit.”

He laughed deeply, almost genuinely,
and then gave me a passionate kiss. My eyes closed and the world
went dark again.

“
Work with the other loa,”
whispered Erzulie, as I slipped into a deep, dark coma.

Chapter 13

A Respectable Little
Dive

When my eyes opened, I found myself
standing in an excruciatingly extravagant room. Plush silk sofas
lined the walls. Crystal chandeliers dangled from the ceiling and
illuminated the neo-classical paintings that adorned the room. The
floor was covered with a luxurious black and red oriental carpet,
and a wooden table that sat in the center of the room held a row of
long fully lit candlesticks, plates of tempting pralines and a
bouquet of red chrysanthemums. The aroma of melted wax, flowers and
pralines was seductive but at the same time distinctively gloomy
and melancholy.

“
What the hell?” I said, as
I peered into a full length mirror and saw that I was dressed in a
lavish red silk moiré ball gown. Its lush fabric was gorgeous and
unbelievably soft. However, the bodice was so tight that it felt
like it was going to squish my puny body to death. My dark hair had
been carefully arranged in an intricate updo and my olive skin was
caked with so much makeup that I looked almost unrecognizable even
to myself. My cheeks had been sculpted with blush so that they
looked radiant and higher than they actually were. Layers of heavy
mascara and eyeliner gave my eyes more of a catlike shape and a
deep wine red lipstick exaggerated the fullness of my
lips.

“
Don’t you look stunning?”
said Ivan, as he came up from behind me and placed his hands on my
shoulders. Dressed in a black waist coat, crisp white shirt and red
necktie, he looked clean, presentable, and, I had to grudgingly
admit, handsome. His blond hair had been brushed so that it almost
gleamed and his ever-present stubble was missing. However, his
earthy cologne was overpowering and intimidating.

“
It’s Charles Worth,” he
said referring to the ball gown. “He’s all the rage in Paris right
now, so of course, the crème de la crème of New Orleans have to
wear anything made by him.”

I turned to face him, appalled by his
very presence and arrogant attitude. “What have you done? Where are
we? And why am I wearing all of this ridiculous makeup?” I asked,
as I tried to take off a layer or two of the hideous paint that was
plastered on my face.

“
You’ve got stones in your
pass way. Poor baby. You should have really paid more attention
during those study sessions you had with your aunt instead of
slobbering over Ken. Now, turn around, I have a present for
you.”

My hand itched. It itched with a rage
so vicious that I felt like ripping his head off, but where would
that get me? I took a deep breath and turned to face the
mirror.

He clasped a heavy foliate design
sapphire and diamond necklace around my neck. It was so beautiful
that I had to momentarily appreciate its attention to detail and
the way it shimmered under the light.

“
We can’t let you walk
around this place without the finest jewels, can we now? God forbid
you don’t have the right jewels, the right dress or that you say
the wrong thing. That would cause a social scandal and cheapen you
altogether,” he said, as he placed diamond earrings into my ears.
“You have to remember, people only see what they want and that will
never change.”

“
How is that relevant to any
of this? What does that even mean? And where are we?” I asked as
calmly and patiently as I could under the circumstances.

He twirled me around so that we were
face to face. The look in his eyes was familiar; almost comforting
and strangely sincere. I’d seen it someplace before but at that
second for the life of me I couldn’t place it. “We’re at a
respectable little dive I used to frequent after I got this
body.”

“
That doesn’t answer my
question.”

He didn’t respond. Instead, he walked
over to the wooden table, filled two crystal glasses with whiskey
and handed me one. “Drink up, queen. You’re going to need
it.”

“
I thought you were a vodka
man,” I said, as I took the glass from his hand and chugged back
the liquid.

He shrugged. “I like to switch it
up.”

Calm. Calm. That’s right, Arelia. You
need to be calm to survive whatever this is.

I took a deep breath and composed
myself. “Where are we?”

“
I invited you to dinner,
remember? We’re having dinner,” he responded as if it were the
obvious answer.

“
I told you I wasn’t hungry.
But since I don’t have a choice, where are we having dinner?” I
asked through clenched teeth.

He smiled and poured himself some more
whiskey. “So impatient.” He drank the whiskey quickly and then
stared at me. “Welcome to the St. Charles hotel, circa 1853. After
the first one burnt down in an unfortunate fire, they replaced it
with this joint. Not too shabby, right?”

“
1853? The St. Charles
Hotel? How? Why?”

I frantically scanned the room and ran
to the window. Outside, I saw speedy horse cart and street vendors
selling rice calas and pralines. Elegantly dressed men and women
wandered the muddy streets while stray animals feasted on the
scraps that littered the ground. Given the fact that I saw a death
cart or two, it was obvious that this wasn’t present day New
Orleans. I opened the window and sniffed the air. It smelt like
manure, death and burnt animal skins.

“
Bring out your dead! Bring
out your dead!” shouted a death cart driver.

I felt Ivan behind me so I turned to
him. “Why are we here?”

Ivan placed his arm around me and I
tried my best not to cringe or push him away in utter disgust.
There was a heavy, almost dismal silence, and when he spoke his
voice was distant and wistful. “This hotel was the first of its
kind when it was constructed. It was the epitome of progress and
advancement, and representative of everything the new world had to
offer. Every day, thousands of people flocked to it in hopes of
experiencing a glimpse of the luxury the richest city in the United
States had to offer. Planters came here with their families to eat
the finest foods and take part in balls that lasted well until
dawn. Anybody who was anybody in America gathered here to show off
their wealth, and of course inevitably hook up with one another.
When I first heard of this hotel I was so eager and excited. I
figured that despite the horrors I’d been through, the world was
finally progressing and I could somehow let go of everything I’d
been through. It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”

I had to agree that the room was
amazing. “You used to come here. After you…” I couldn’t bring
myself to finish the sentence or look at him.

“
Yes. After I woke up in
this body, I learned the fine art of pickpocketing and managed to
look respectable enough to blend in with the fabulously
wealthy.”

“
Why?”

He shrugged but didn’t say
anything.

“
How did you feel when you
changed bodies? How did it feel?” I didn’t know how to ask what I
wanted to ask.

“
You know those people on TV
who get all these extreme makeovers and go on crazy diets hoping
that it’ll somehow give them what they’re looking for and solve all
of their problems?”

I nodded.

“
I got the biggest makeover
of my life and it didn’t solve a damn thing. Nothing.”

“
Do you ever wonder whose
body that is? Have you tried to figure it out?”

“
Does it really matter? Your
soul still remembers the abuse it’s been through. There’s no
erasing that. It follows you around.”

“
You still feel like a
slave, don’t you?” I whispered. “You don’t feel good enough…Inside
you feel empty and disappointed. That’s why you’re always so
angry.”

He sighed. “You should really ask for a
refund on those online psychology courses you’re taking. They
aren’t helping any, queen.”

“
Why are we here?” I asked
again. This time I forced myself to make eye contact with
him.

He smiled widely and slowly ran his
fingers through his hair. “I already told you, I swear you don’t
listen. We’re having dinner.”

“
I swear you don’t listen, I
don’t want dinner.”

He grabbed my hand and pulled me
towards the door. “You’re so stubborn. Of course you want to have
dinner with me.”

Chapter 14

Dinner at the St. Charles
Hotel

“
Isn’t this just
magnificent?” asked Ivan in that sarcastic tone of his, as we stood
in the middle of a vast and extravagant dining hall.

What I saw was beyond magnificent. It
was absolutely breathtaking and grandiose. I never thought I’d ever
use the word grandiose but that’s exactly what it was. Three long
dining tables sat in the middle of the spacious room while five
gigantic and impressively ornate chandeliers hung from the ceiling
and bathed the room in a soft and merry glow. Laughter and Verdi
mingled with conversations about stocks and the latest Parisian
fashions.

Hundreds of beautiful women in
exquisitely embellished ball gowns and finely detailed jewelry
seductively sipped champagne. Each dress was more stunning than the
next and each woman more lovely than the other. If Sabrina were
there she would have freaked. They swirled around me with
effortless grace and beauty while groups of well-dressed, handsome
men hovered around them and tried to win their attention. It was an
enchanted fairytale that consisted of soft lights, pretty colors
and dazzling jewels.

Long white candles illuminated the
endless number of succulent dishes that occupied the tables. My
mouth literally started to water at the irresistible arrangement of
food. The scent of butter, stewed tomatoes and rich broths lingered
in the air and for a split second I forgot where I was and who I
was with. Why was I so easily distracted? Focus, Arelia, forget
about the food.

“
I see you drooling, queen.
The food in this place is prepared by a maître de cuisine from
Paris,” he said, as he grabbed a menu from a nearby waiter and
handed it to me.

Out of sheer curiosity I took the menu
from him; which, by the way, was the size of a newspaper; and
glanced through it: Snails Bourguignon, Ailerons de dindon au
celeri, Stuffed crabs, Fried oysters, Creole Onion Soup, crawfish
court bouillon, shrimp etouffee. My mouth started to water as I
read through the seemingly endless list.

“
I thought you weren’t
hungry,” said Ivan, as he eyed me.

“
Well since you insist on
feeding me, who am I to argue?” I felt so cool and collected saying
those words. In reality, my palms were sweaty and I had a sinking
feeling in the pit of my stomach. I wasn’t foolish enough to think
that we were there just for dinner.

I had vowed never to underestimate Ivan
again and I had no intention of doing, so but letting him know I
was terrified beyond belief would only give him more power over me.
I refused to let him hold all of the cards. Who did he think he
was? He expected me to be all predictable by breaking down. That’s
what he wanted. He wanted to me to break down and shatter into a
million pieces. Well tonight he wasn’t going to get the
satisfaction. I would eat. I would smile but I would not cry. All
the many, many layers of mascara on my lashes would stay firmly in
place.

“
Have a seat,” he said, as
he pulled out a chair for me from under one of the
tables.

Reluctantly, I sat down and was
immediately taken aback by the fact that there were golden knives,
forks and spoons in front of me. I picked up a knife and held it to
the light. “Who lives like this?” I asked in wonder. “Who actually
uses golden utensils?”

“
Prince Charming,” said
Ivan, as he pulled up a seat beside me. “Here, drink up.” He handed
me a flute of champagne, which I gladly accepted. Anything to
distract me from the surreal events that were taking place around
me. “So what are you in the mood for?” he asked.

I let out a frustrated sigh. “His name
is Lucus and I’ll have the Creole Onion Soup, snail’s bourguignon
and some fried oysters too.” I randomly picked items off of the
menu. I figured since I was in one of the most luxurious hotels of
all time, circa 1853 New Orleans, rather than a grimy slave cabin,
I might as well try the food first and then continue to fight with
Ivan afterwards.

“
Why are you always so
hungry, queen?” asked Ivan, as he watched me gobble down a
snail.