Nancy K. Duplechain - Dark Trilogy 02 - Dark Carnival (4 page)

“This
is the dormitory.  We each have our own rooms.  Right now, there are only
thirteen of us.  Sadly, we recently lost Sister Margot to pneumonia.  She was
eighty-two and the best cook we had.”  She smiled fondly at this. “And Sister
Diane—she’s twenty-four—left a couple of months ago, saying she was being
called to do mission work in Haiti.  She was our resident photographer.”

“Couldn’t
Miles help her?” I asked.

“I’m
sorry?”

“Sister
Margot.  Couldn’t Miles heal her pneumonia?”

Sister
Alice seemed as though she sighed internally.  “No.  It was her time to go,”
she said carefully.

She
closed the oak doors and led me to the eastern side of the courtyard.  Here,
she opened the door and I was immediately taken with the smell of freshly-baked
bread as we stepped into the kitchen.  It was well equipped with a six-burner
stove and large refrigerator.  Despite the professional stove, there was also a
brick oven embedded into one of the walls.  There, a nun was pulling one of two
loaves of bread from the oven.  She carefully placed it on a cooling rack and
then did the same with the other loaf.

“Sister
Margot was a great cook, but Sister Adele is just as good, right Adele?”

The
nun turned toward us with her oven mitts still over her hands and nodded,
smiling, revealing a missing tooth at the bottom.  She was perhaps in her
seventies with wisps of white hair peeking from under her habit.  Around her
waist was a woolen belt like the one Sister Alice wore, but from Sister Adele’s
belt hung a small wooden cross.

“Smells
heavenly, Adele,” she said, smiling warmly.  “This is Leigh Benoit.  She’s with
Miles.  She’ll be training to do the Lord’s work tonight.”

“Very
nice to meet you,” I told Sister Adele.  She nodded in return.

“She
is unable to speak.  She’s never uttered a word, not even as a baby.  Isn’t
that right?” she asked her.

Sister
Adele grinned.

“Miles
offered to try to cure her once, but she refused.  She wrote to us on a piece
of paper, saying that it was God’s will that she be mute.  She did not want to
go against God.”

Sister
Adele nodded, smiling proudly.  I smiled back at her, nodding my recognition of
her faith.

“I’ll
just show Leigh around the dining room now.  Right this way, Leigh.”

The
dining hall had two large tables with enough room to seat fifteen at each
table.  Two enormous picture windows were embedded in the right-side wall.  The
light that poured in created one long glare on the smooth wooden floor of the
hall.

After
the dining room, Sister Alice led me back to the lobby and into the gift store
in the next room over.  Here, a visitor could purchase anything from Bibles and
prayer beads to hand-crafted items, pottery and trinkets, all made by the
Dominican Sisters of St. Geneviève’s.  And, of course, donations were always
welcomed.

“I
forgot to show you, but we have an arts and crafts room on the other side of
the courtyard,” she said.  “These crafts sell out more than the other items in
the store.  They make great gifts.”

“They’re
lovely,” I said, making a mental note to buy something for Clothilde.

She
smiled warmly.  “I think Miles will probably be ready now.  Let’s go find him.”

Sister
Alice led me out of the lobby and back into the courtyard.  We took a right,
following the covered pathway to a set of ornate double doors with blue stained
glass windows that depicted a man with a halo surrounded by stars.

“That’s
so beautiful,” I marveled.

“That’s
St. Dominic.  He’s the patron saint of astronomers.  That’s why the stars are
there.”

She
opened the doors to reveal a small chapel with wooden pews and a navy blue
carpet that led to a small altar.  There was a door behind the altar.  Judging
from our location in the courtyard, I guessed that the door led to the bell
tower.

Miles
was behind the altar.  He had a black cloth laid out with his vial of holy
water resting on it.  He smiled when he saw us.  “Did you give her the grand
tour?” he said.

“Just
about,” she replied.

“You
can open the doors now,” he said.

Sister
Alice nodded and left the chapel.

“Come
here, Leigh,” he said.  I joined him behind the altar.  “When the sisters
start bringing in the people who need healing, we’ll take them one at a time.  I’ll
handle the first few, and then I want you to try, okay?”

I
nodded, feeling my stomach knotting up.  After a few minutes, Sister Alice
returned with a line of people trailing behind.  They ranged in ages from
thirties to nineties, some with minor elements like a bad cold, to more serious
conditions like psoriasis.

The
first person I recognized as Sarah, the homeless woman from outside the
convent.  She ambled up to us, grinning, but a little shy around me.  “You sure
you don’t want your money back, Miles?” she asked.  “I still got it.”

Miles
smiled at her.  “No.  You can keep it, Sarah.  Why don’t we get you fixed up
now?”

She
removed her coat, setting it carefully aside on one of the small pews, and then
offered her elbow to Miles.  “I think I slept on it wrong last night.”

Miles
uncorked his small vial of holy water, turned it upside down while holding his
index finger over the lip, and then turned it right side up.  He cupped Sarah’s
elbow with one hand and, with the other, he rubbed a drop of holy water onto
the joint and said the
Our Father
prayer.  I had heard Clothilde recite
prayers in her healing sessions.  She always said them in Cajun French.  Miles
recited them in English.  She seemed to say the words with more reverence than
he did, and it made me wonder if Miles believed them.

All
was quiet for a moment.  Miles had his eyes closed in concentration.  Sarah
eagerly fixated on her elbow in his palm.  Her eyes darted to me every few
seconds.  I smiled politely at her.  She seemed nervous to have me there, but
returned the smile, revealing the same charming gap I remembered from earlier.  The
people in line craned their necks to see the miracle taking place a few feet in
front of them.

The
whole process lasted maybe a minute.  After the prayer, Miles was perfectly
still, eyes closed.  I wondered what it was like, to feel that healing force.  I
recalled the time Lyla healed the dog that Lucas ran over with his truck.  When
I touched her hands, they were very hot.  It was the same with Clothilde when
she healed Lyla after the roof of Savoy’s cabin collapsed on us in Lake Martin.
 But I didn’t know what that power would feel like coming through me, from my
core being.  I didn’t know if I truly had it in me.

When
Miles was done, he opened his eyes.  He looked almost like he had just woken up
from a short nap, like he could have been nodding off a moment ago, but now
alert.  “All better?” he asked Sarah.

“Sure
is, Miles!  Thanks!” she beamed.  She turned around, grabbed her coat and then
addressed the line.  “I’m better!”

The
people in line gave a polite clap, happy for Sarah.  The next person stepped up
to the altar.  He was a man of about forty who explained in a thick, raspy
voice that he had polyps on his throat.  Miles once again took a drop of holy
water from the vial.  He made the sign of the cross on the man’s throat and
placed a hand over it.  He said another prayer and concentrated for a couple of
minutes.  When he was done, the man was healed and thanked Miles with his new,
smooth voice.

I
was truly amazed.  It was hard to tell with Sarah if she was cured or not, but
I heard this man before Miles laid his hands on him and heard him now.  Clothilde
couldn’t heal anyone that quickly.  I had often seen return clients with the
same ailments, albeit less severe than the last time they came to Clothilde’s.  But
I had never seen anyone healed right on the spot, except Lyla, and that had
taken a lot out of Clothilde.  She had fainted from the energy being pulled
through her.  Miles was barely affected.  I only noticed a hint of tiredness
behind his eyes after he healed the man.

The
next person was a woman who looked to be in her sixties.  She came up to us
with her right hand clenched around her left wrist.  “Carpal Tunnel,” she said
to Miles.  He gave her an understanding nod and then turned to me.

“Ready
to take this one?” he said.

My
eyes widened and I felt my face flush.  “I don’t know.  I’m not sure what I—”

He
grabbed one of my hands and had me place my other hand on the woman’s wrist.  He
put a drop of holy water on her wrist and clasped his hand around it.  We
formed a circle with both of our hands holding her wrist.  He began with the
Our
Father
again and then the concentration began.  I immediately felt a rush
of heat pass through my body and into the woman’s wrist.  As with Clothilde, it
was a heat that did not hurt.  After a moment, the woman said she no longer
felt pain.  Miles released us.

“Now
you try the next one yourself,” he said to me as the woman left.  I nervously
nodded.

Next
in line was a young guy who was probably twenty, but looked older.  His
complexion was sallow with surface scars.  He was stick thin and had greasy,
uncombed hair.  His eyes shifted nervously from Miles to me and back to Miles.  His
eyes were red, and it looked as though he had been crying a little.

“What
do you need help with?” asked Miles.

The
young man bit at his lower lip and hesitated before removing his jacket.  When
he rolled up his sleeves, I saw puncture marks all over his arms and hardened
veins that looked like like blue welts beneath the yellowish bruised skin.  He
looked down at the floor, embarrassed, a few tears forming in his eyes.

“I
d-don’t want to be like this anymore,” he said, a couple of tears falling.  He
looked up at Miles and then at me, pleading with his eyes.  “H-help me.  Please. 
I—I don’t want to b-be like this.”  He dropped his arms to his sides in defeat,
more tears falling.

“We’ll
help you,” said Miles.  He looked at me.  “Take his hands in yours,” he
instructed.  I hesitantly took his hands into mine.  “Now say the Lord’s
prayer,” he said.  I did, and then he told me to concentrate and imagine a
green light emanating from my body and into my hands, passing into the young
man’s body.

I
tried.  And I tried.  Again and again.  I could picture the green light.  I
could see it in my mind’s eye, but I felt nothing.

The
young man started to tremble, but not because he was feeling any sort of
healing power coursing through his body.  Soon, he was rocking back and forth
in place, getting more anxious by the second.  Nothing was happening.  I
couldn’t feel anything, no matter how hard I tried.  Seconds passed by, then a
minute.  I was becoming more frustrated, and the guy rocking back and forth
didn’t help the situation.

It
scared me when he shouted, “Hurry up, you bitch!”  I let go of his hands.  His
face immediately changed to one of regret and he began to cry again.  “I’m so
sorry!  I didn’t mean that.  I’m really, really sorry.”

“It’s
all right,” said Miles, taking some holy water and making the sign of the cross
on the guy’s forehead.  He shushed him in a soothing voice, trying to calm him.
 It began to work.  Miles held his hands and closed his eyes, praying.  “You
will overcome this addiction through the power of God.  You will be restored
anew, your mind and body healthy.  Go now and be healed,” he murmured.

Within
seconds, the young man stopped shaking.  He was perfectly still, grounded.  He
opened his eyes.  They looked clear and calm.  “Oh, my God.  Thank you.  Thank
you, thank you,” he said.  He turned to me, again a look of deep regret.  “I’m
so sorry.  That was horrible of me.”

“It’s
okay,” I offered.

He
smiled, kissed Miles’ hands, and left.  Miles said nothing to me.

For
the rest of the evening, Miles had me try to heal everyone who came in,
seventeen people total.  While trying to heal the tenth person—an elderly woman
with bronchitis—I got excited when I began to feel a small amount of warmth
coming from my core.  As soon as I started to get excited, I lost my
concentration and it was gone.  I never regained that feeling, and Miles had to
heal everyone.

When
they were gone, he walked me to my car, said to get a good night’s sleep and
that we’d try again tomorrow.  He never said so, but I could sense the
frustration and disappointment in him.

After a mentally
exhausting day with Miles, I headed back to Cee Cee’s.  On the way, I found
myself wanting something to take the edge off.  I didn’t feel like hanging with
tourists, so I stopped at a bar near Tulane instead of going to Bourbon Street.
 College kids didn’t bother me, but I couldn’t take one more out-of-towner with
a neck full of Mardi Gras beads when Mardi Gras parades hadn’t even started yet.

I
stepped into the packed little club and was not surprised to see all the
guys were wearing either Tulane sweatshirts or Saints football jerseys.  Most
of the girls were wearing miniskirts and tight, low-cut tops, despite the nip
in the air.  I managed to find a seat at the bar and ordered a Corona while I
watched a basketball game on TV that didn’t hold my interest in the
least. 

“Hey,
who you pullin’ for?  Spurs or Knicks?”  I glanced to my right to see
a slightly cute guy in a faded Tulane t-shirt sitting next to me.  He
was nursing a beer and looking at the TV, but glancing at me in the corner of
his eye.

“I’m
sorry?” I said. 

He
motioned to the game and said, “Spurs or Knicks?” 

“Oh.
 Knicks, I guess.  Go Knicks,” I said, and he laughed at my utter lack of
enthusiasm.  

He
looked me up and down, but not in an entirely creepy way.  “So, what you
majorin’ in?” 

Is
that the new pick up line for college kids these days?
 I wondered and
laughed to myself, starting to feel flattered.  “I don’t go to school
here.” 

“No?
 Where you go?”

“I
don’t go anywhere.  I graduated from U. L. Lafayette in 2005.  And then I went
to UCLA.” 

“Oh,
a’ight. Looks like I got me a cougar.”

“What?!
 Cougar?!  Are you kidding me?  I’m only twenty-six!”

“Oh
a’ight now.”  I glared at him.  ”’kay, be cool, baby.  You not into
it.  I get what you sayin’.  Ain’t nothin’.  Later, girl.”  He backed up
from the bar and moved onto some other girl by one of the pool tables.

Across
from me, at the other end of the bar, was a very good-looking guy with a beer
in hand, trying to stifle a laugh.  I caught his eyes for a moment but he
looked away toward the TV.  He looked to be about my age, maybe a couple of
years older.  He was easy to spot because he was the only guy in the bar not
wearing a team logo.  His hair was jet black, short with a little height on top
and short sideburns.  I could make out a few muscles under his navy blue
t-shirt.  As he leaned against the bar, his elbow resting on a leather jacket
that was as black as his hair, I noticed a long, pink scar on the inside of his
left forearm.  His jeans looked like they were fitted just for him and, while I
hadn’t gone in the bar looking for anything other than a drink, I was starting
to want something else.

I
felt my phone vibrate in my pocket.  I pulled it out and checked the caller ID.
 It was Lucas, and that suddenly made me feel guilty.  I looked back
at the other end of the bar, but the cute guy was gone.  I scanned the room,
but didn’t see him anywhere.  I put my phone back in my pocket, deciding to
call Lucas when I got back to Cee Cee’s.  I wouldn’t have been able to hear him
with all the noise, anyway.

I
finished my drink, paid up and headed out.  On the way back to Cee Cee’s, I
couldn’t help but feel like I was being followed.  I glanced in my rearview
mirror and didn’t see anything out of the ordinary.  An impulsive urge overtook
me and I made a right at the next light, even though I needed to keep going
straight.  I turned, and two other cars turned behind me.  I made another right
at the next light, and one car kept going, but the other, a ‘60-something,
two-door, dark charcoal gray Charger, hesitated before continuing straight.

At
the end of the block, I took a little longer at the light, checking my mirror
to see if anyone was going to follow me.  No one there.  I laughed to myself,
feeling foolish and took another right to head back to the main street.  As
soon as I turned, I saw headlights slowly coming from a couple of blocks behind
me.  It was just me and that car on the little side street.  I waited at the
stop sign, watching in my mirror before turning.  As the car approached, my
stomach sank a little as I noticed the metallic charcoal color of the Charger
coming into view.

I
hurried to turn right and got back on the main street.  I checked in the mirror
again and saw the Charger casually pull into the right lane to avoid the
traffic in the left.  It continued in my direction.  I noticed the traffic
light up ahead was about to turn yellow, so I sped up a little and made it just
in time.  I checked in the mirror again and saw that the Charger was now
stopped at the light.

As I
continued on to Cee Cee’s, I kept glancing in the mirror until the light behind
me turned green and the Charger continued its normal pace in my direction.  I
sped up a little more until I got to the Quarter.  I meandered through the
streets, careful to avoid Bourbon, and, before I made my last turn before I got
to Cee Cee’s, I stopped at the stop sign and looked around in all directions.  There
were a couple of taxis and some parked cars and that was all I saw.  I made a
left and parked in the alley behind the apartment.

I
hurried out of my car and up the stairwell.  I quickly unlocked the door with
the key Cee Cee gave me, feeling like a scaredy cat as I glanced over my
shoulder to make sure no one was behind me.  Before I went in, I took one final
look outside and saw nothing out of the ordinary.  But just the same, I quickly
shut and bolted the door.

The
smell in the apartment instantly comforted me.  Cee Cee had made a seafood
gumbo while I was gone, and it smelled heavenly.

“Just
in time!” she said, stirring the pot as I put my keys on the end table by
the door.  “Rice is just finished cooking.”

I
looked at her with adoration and said, “I love you.”

She
laughed and said, “I love you, too, my baby.  Now come get you some.  I
made it special with a whole lot of shrimp and crab.”

I
started to help myself to a bowl of gumbo when Cee Cee added, “So, how did your
first day go?”

“All
right,” I said, trying to sound happy, but she saw through me.

“You’ll
get it, baby.  Don’t you worry.  Miles’ll turn you into a pro in no time!”

“I
hope you’re right.  I didn’t seem to be good for anything tonight.”

“It’s
just your first day!  Tomorrow you’ll do a little better and even more better
day after that.”

After
dinner, I took a shower and crawled into bed.  My phone went off with a text alert.
 I checked it to see that Carrie, my best friend, had sent me a message.

You
up?

Yep
,
I texted back, instantly feeling guilty for not visiting with her before I left
to come to New Orleans.  I’m sure she was going to fuss at me for that.  Within
seconds my phone rang.

“Hey,”
I said.

“Hey,
you.  I thought you were supposed to come and see me before you left.”

“Sorry.
 I had that funeral to go to the day before and then time just flew by.”

“Uh-huh,”
she said with mock disdain.

“It’s
true!” I laughed.

“Okay.
 I believe you.  So what are you up to?”

Carrie
knew that something was up with my family, but she didn’t know exactly what.  Last
year, while Lyla and I were spending the night at her house, the Dark Man
showed up and nearly scared us half to death.  The Dark Man, who we came to
know as Walter Savoy, was a demon who wanted to do away with our family.  I had
explained to Carrie that it was a ghost.  She knew it was something more, but
hadn’t pressed me for details.  I was grateful for that.  Now it was a little
hard to explain things from time to time.  I had told her I was in New Orleans
to visit Cee Cee and to look for jobs.

“Not
much,” I replied.  “Had an interview today, but it didn’t look promising.”

“Are
you
sure
you can’t find work here?  I might be able to get you a job at
the hotel.”  Carrie had been working at the Lafayette Hilton for five years
now.

“That
would be great!  I’d like to stay in the Acadiana area, but I need to keep my
options open.”

Carrie
groaned sarcastically.  “Alright!  Leave me again!” she said over-dramatically.
 “My best friend keeps leaving me.”  She was, of course, referring to the years
I lived in Los Angeles.

“
Anyway
,”
I said, changing the subject.  “What did you do today?”

There
was a slight pause, and her tone changed to slight worry.  “I wanted to ask you
something, and it’s totally okay with me if you say no, so don’t worry about
hurting my feelings or anything like that, but if you said yes, that would be
cool, but if you said no, I’d understand completely—”

“Just
say it!” I laughed.

There
was another pause and then, “Would you mind if … I asked Lucas out?”

Bitch!
was my first thought, but hated myself for thinking that.  Lucas and I
weren’t dating or anything, but she knew that we had a connection and that I did
like him.

“Leigh?”
came the sound of her cautious voice over the phone. 

“No,
that’s fine,” I said, trying to sound like it didn’t bother me.

“Are
you
sure
?  Because, like I said, I’d be absolutely fine—”

“No,
it’s fine,” I said, forcing myself to smile in hopes that my voice would match.

“Okay.
 Thank you!  I doubt anything will come of it, but just so you know, anytime
you feel uncomfortable, let me know.”

“It’s
okay, Care.  Y’all have a good time.”

“Thanks,
girl.”

“Anytime.”

“Okay,
gotta go.  Talk to you later.”

“Later,
girl.”

We hung up, and I put my
phone on the little nightstand and turned out the light, trying to make myself
believe that I was fine.