Bound, An Arelia LaRue Novel #1 YA Paranormal Romance (14 page)

“
Well, you’re probably the
one who picked it so thanks for that.” He was right. The heat was
killing me, and the skirt and blouse were made out of heavy
material. I had no idea what it was called, but I knew that it
wasn’t suitable for the weather.

“
Wait here,” he
commanded.

“
Sure, you’re the boss,” I
said in a sarcastic tone while sipping the sweet tea that he had
given me. I had to admit that it tasted amazing. Cool and
refreshing with the right amount of sugar.

“
Over here.” Lucus motioned
me to an oak tree. Hated being ordered around, I hesitated.
“Why?”

“
You’ll see.” He was so sure
of himself, so confident that I would flock to him like Sabrina. “I
promise it’s worth your while.”

“
Fine.” I gave in and walked
towards the tree.

“
Sit here.” He pointed to a
spot under the tree where he had placed a blanket and a pitcher of
sweet tea accompanied by slices of Creole cream
cheesecake.

“
Why there?” I questioned as
I sat down. “Okay, I get it,” I said within a minute of positioning
myself against the tree. The spot was absolutely perfect. The
ancient, oak tree shielded us from the burning afternoon rays and a
cool wind breezed through my hair, lifting it off my
neck.

“
Here, I thought you might
need this.” Lucus handed me a white towel which I grabbed and used
to wipe off the sweat that had transformed my face in to an oil
slick. My tinted moisturizer slid off as I patted myself staining
the towel beige. “Gross.” I examined the ruined towel. “I hope it
isn’t expensive.”

“
Don’t worry about it.” He
bent down and took the towel from my hand and tossed it aside. As
he did, I couldn’t help but notice that his thin, white t-shirt had
started to cling to his chest because of how much he was sweating.
It provided a clear outline of his muscular torso, catching myself
staring, I looked away in embarrassment.

“
So, are you going to tell
me what the song means?” I asked tugging my hair before putting it
up into a ponytail. I was a little anxious that Sabrina would see
us. Luckily, the way we were positioned blocked us from the view of
anyone in the river.

“
What do you think it
means?” Lucus took a seat beside me. We were side by side, our
bodies resting against the tree trunk. Far enough from one another,
so that we weren’t exactly touching, but close enough to make me
nervous for God knows what reason.

“
If I knew I wouldn’t ask,”
I retorted.

Lucus laughed and turned his head, so
he had a clear view of the side of my face. This made me feel
self-conscious and awkward. I always suspected that I had a large
nose and hated when people stared directly at my profile, so I
faced him. “Tell me, I don’t have all day. Some of us have to work
you know.” I was being rude only because I was anxious. Unlike
Sabrina, I didn’t have much experience with guys. I wasn’t the type
of girl that batted her eyelashes and twirled her hair. I was a bit
impaired, not exactly a smooth operator.

“
It’s code,” Lucus began.
“When the slaves tried to escape, the song was sung in order to
advise them on how to remain undetected by the bloodhounds that
were tracking them. The exact specifics of it are a mystery though.
I suppose only the slaves themselves can answer that question. For
the most part, the song advises the slaves to stay in the water at
the certain times and on land at others. I do believe it aided some
of them in their attempt to escape to Canada. This is only one of
many songs they sang to help and protect one another. The slave
master was the enemy so the less he understood, the better it was
for the slaves.”

“
I get it. They didn’t want
every detail of their lives dissected and analyzed. They felt like
they needed to have some control and through coded songs they had
that. Or I could be completely wrong, and they thought the songs
were just catchy or something.”

Lucus timidly smiled. “Your first
theory is probably a bit more accurate.”

It’s kind of like voodoo. Everyone
thinks it’s such a big mystery and full of darkness because it’s so
secretive,” I reasoned. “The slaves were only trying to protect
what was left of their former lives.” When I thought about the
powers I had in that light, I felt honored to be the voice of so
many people who were kept in silence for so many
centuries.

He carefully reflected on what I said
before responding. “Exactly.”

“
Why can I hear them? Does
that mean that their souls are trapped at Darkwood?”

“
Ms. Mae told me that their
souls are free and have passed on safely to the other side, but
they occasionally come back to Darkwood when they have a
purpose.”

“
What purpose?”

“
I don’t exactly know,” he
eventually admitted. “I think that they want to communicate with
you, make you understand how things were. Open your eyes to
possibilities that you never thought about before.”

“
Were they given a proper
burial?” I whispered terrified of the answer I would get. “Were the
slaves that died here given proper graves?”

“
Yes,” Lucus looked pained
as he answered me. “There is the LaPlante family cemetery, but also
the old slave cemetery close to the swamp. Although, I don’t agree
with my family’s history, Darkwood plantation was never once
accused of cruelty. Every slave was given a proper
burial.”

“
But, did it really get that
bad here. I mean, did the plantation really use bloodhounds to
chase after the slaves?” I was horrified at the prospect of one of
my distant relatives ever having to go through an ordeal like that.
“How did Louis Beau really die? What argument did he have with the
slave manager?”

Lucus’s voice was hauntingly solemn as
he answered. “I don’t know no one does. I heard that bloodhounds
were used when it was necessary. However, it was very rare that a
slave actually ran away. They knew if they did get caught by
another plantation owner their lives would be much
worse.”

“
Don’t you ever feel
guilty?” I asked. “I mean knowing that you have all this because of
what your family did to others.” I felt myself get angry, as I
thought about the injustice that the poor slaves faced on the land
where we were now lounging and drinking sweet tea on.

“
I do. I suppose there is a
certain stigma attached to belonging to the LaPlante family.” His
eyes were deeply troubled, as if he were reflecting on something
that had taken place years ago. “For the most part, I’ve learnt how
to bury the shame and move on with my life. I’ve realized that if
you let it, remorse can consume you entirely. Before you know it,
you’re nothing more than a ghost lurking in the
shadows.”

“
That could have been me,
you know,” I blurted out.

“
What?” He was confused by
my comment.

“
Yeah, I’m part
African-American. Obviously, it comes from my grand-mere’s side of
the family, so that probably means that someone, somewhere in my
past was a slave on this property right here. Besides, Ms. Mae says
that the LaRues have been working for your family for years
whatever that’s about.”

He looked at me like I had just escaped
from a mental hospital. “I do believe the sweet tea and sunshine is
getting to your head.”

“
No, it’s not.” I hated when
guys told me that I was crazy when I was being perfectly
rational.

“
Listen to me Arelia.” His
forceful gaze unsettled me. “I don’t think you’d ever be a slave to
anyone regardless of where you lived or what time period you were
born. I bet you would have fought tooth and nail to claim your
freedom and rights. You’re not like the rest of us. You have a fire
inside you that can’t be put out so easily. If I had an ounce of
your courage, my life would have turned out a lot different than it
is now.”

“
What’s so bad about the way
your life turned out?” Didn’t he realize he had it all?

He paused and tugged on his t-shirt.
“It’s sweltering out here.” He clearly didn’t want to talk about
why his life was so horrible.

“
Fine, if you don’t want to
talk about yourself, tell me why the LaRues have been working for
your family for so long?”

He let go of his t-shirt. “The LaRues
have been working for the LaPlante family for years because they
are the only family the LaPlantes trust.”

“
Trust, how?” He had me
intrigued.

“
Your grand-mere’s family
was employed after the mad Marie incident in hopes of freeing my
great great-great grandfather from the deal Marie had entwined him
in. They were all free women of color who chose to work with the
family, not by any sort of force.”

“
Why were they chosen and
trusted?” I pressed him for more details.

“
They were, excuse me,” he
corrected himself, “are powerful voodoo queens, some even rumored
to be stronger than mad Marie herself.”

“
So, were they able to do
it? Was your great great-great grandfather freed from the
curse?”

“
I don’t believe he was.
Most folks can still see him around Darkwood.” His voice sounded
defeated. “I know you must think it’s silly of me to be worried
that some ghost is running around here, but you see it’s the
principle I suppose. I can’t stand the thought of him being bound
to this land forever, running around in circles with no end in
sight.”

“
I don’t think you’re silly
at all. I know how important it is for souls to pass on safely to
the other side, whereever that is. My grand-mere held an elaborate
ritual when my grand-pere passed. I mean if you really love someone
and care for them, you need to make sure they’re safe for eternity
right?”

Lucus looked relived. “So you don’t
think I’m crazy?”

I laughed. “I come from crazy,” I
assured him. “I don’t get it, if all of this happened so long ago,
why is Ms. Mae still working for your family and why did grand-mere
Bea leave?” I was flooding him with questions, but all of it was
just starting to make sense to me.

“
I suppose it’s tradition
that Southern loyalty which prompted your aunt to stay. Besides do
you really despise me that much that you’ve automatically branded
my entire family as monsters?” His gloom evaporated, and I could
see a small smile forming at the corner of his lovely lips. Wait.
Did I really just describe his lips as lovely? Maybe the sweet tea
and sunshine was getting to my head.

“
I never said that,” I
defended myself. “I never said you guys were monsters. How do you
know so much about Darkwood anyways?”

“
Why shouldn’t I? I am a
LaPlante after all.”

“
Yeah, I know that, but guys
your age care about cars and football, not history.”

He let out a small laugh. “There you go
again. You really do think you know it all, don’t you?”

“
Like I said, I’m just
calling it like I see.” It was true all the guys I did know only
cared about cars and football.

“There was a time when all I cared
about were women and wealth. I felt entitled and showed little
respect to others who were less fortunate than myself.”

“
What changed?”

“
Understanding that power
and greed could have ugly consequences that are
irreparable.”

“
I see.” Lucus sounded a bit
dramatic, but hey I wasn’t one to judge. I had my own fair share of
drama over the past few days.

“
It really sucks that all
those people back then couldn’t enjoy the land like it is today. I
mean I doubt there were many picnics back then.”

“
From what I heard there
weren’t many. The slaves at Darkwood were only allowed gatherings a
few times a year in which they were given extra food from the main
house. I’m sure the few parties they were allowed to have were far
greater than this.”

“
No way. How could they have
enjoyed a party with some nasty slave master standing over
them?”

“
Just picture it. Close your
eyes,” Lucus ordered as he placed the tips of his fingers on my
forehand. They felt light as cotton candy as he lowered them to my
eyes and closed my lids. I felt them linger on the ends of my
eyelashes and then move downwards as if they were recording all the
shadows and contours of my face. My heart raced with anticipation
at where they would move to next. I should have opened my eyes at
that very second and left, but it felt as if I were glued to the
earth below. All the noise around me vanished, and at that moment,
there was only me and Lucus.

“
Imagine a full moon on a
dark night,” Lucus rested his hand on my shoulder and began
describing his version of what a party held by the slaves might
have looked like centuries ago. “The river lit by the flames of a
bonfire and brought to life by the beating of African drums. The
aroma of black-eyed pea soup and jambalaya fill the air while
children play and dance. For just one moment, every slave forgets
their miserable existence and gives thanks for the little that they
do have. Sometimes there is sheer beauty in simplicity.”

As he continued to describe the scene,
I felt myself get transported back in time. My nostrils filled with
the scent of jambalaya and my body moved to the rhythm of the
drums.