Repressed, An Arelia LaRue Novel #6

By Kira Saito

Down in New Orleans, Arelia quickly discovers that there is no rest for the weary or for the wicked. With Emilie desperate to destroy her at any cost, Arelia must act like a true Queen and find answers to questions that she isn’t ready to ask. From the spirited halls of Darkwood to the lush hills of Africa and the ports of Haiti, Arelia chases after the past only to discover that the ghosts of yesterday never really die.

Filled with an unlikely romance full of danger, betrayal of the worst kind, an obsessive thirst for power, spirits with ways and means, Arelia’s strange and haunting world will spirit you away.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Kira Saito
• Release date: Oct 31, 2015
• ISBN: 9781310200564

Kira Saito

Kira is a magic junkie and loves writing YA paranormal romances. Some of her heroes include: Jack the Pumpkin King, Willy Wonka, Larry David, Princess Tiana, the vampire Lestat, Andy and her Maltese Costanza.

Book preview

1

They Would Do Anything to Materialize Their Every Wish

Darkwood Plantation Present Day

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The summer wind wasn’t warm enough to dry the fat beads of sweat that dripped off of my grimy forehead. They trickled down my hot cheeks and further stained the once clean yellow lace dress I wore. I unsuccessfully tried to block out the taunting screams and drunken laughter that seeped through the cemetery gate. As if mocking my plight, the wild swamp animals joined in on the exhilarating hollers that continued to rise at an alarming rate.

I could still hear Marie and Linto’s melancholy chant as it echoed through the air and rustled through the oak leaves.

I didn't come here to be anyone's servant

Digging the hole; it's me. Burying; it's me (bis)

I didn't come here to be anyone's servant.

---

Their sadness and desperation hung thick as humidity during a hot Louisiana summer night and pity threatened to cripple me. I wanted to run back and confront the cowardly unholy trinity of Emilie, Edmond and Ghede Massaka, but I knew that would be an amateur mistake. Little Linto’s words shocked me into submission, If you sacrifice Viola to Ghede Massaka, he will split your soul into two. Your ti bon ange will go inside of Viola and all your powers will be under Emilie’s control. The spiritless part of your soul will remain in this body and will be tied to Edmond for eternity. You have to sacrifice your own flesh and blood in order for this to work. That is the only way the spell can work.

Focus, I reminded myself. I was now a Queen and I wouldn’t let anyone or anything steal my crown. What were my official duties and where was my throne? I had never really paid attention to these details before but all of a sudden it occurred to me that maybe they were more important than I had been led to believe. If Emilie was so desperate to destroy me and gain access to my powers it was obvious that this whole mess went much deeper than I could imagine. How many players were there and what was on the table? How many souls hung in the balance? Were Collette, Abram and the other slaves a mere foreshadow of things yet to be revealed? Things so gruesome that maybe I didn’t have a stomach for them.

I stopped myself and took a deep breath. I couldn’t continue to think about the with ifs and what not and the what hows. The truth was I needed to have more faith than ever before. Not that type of faith that was dried up by a measly breeze. No, I needed epic, biblical Moses type faith. I needed to lead the repressed out of the clutches of Emilie and spiritual wilderness and into the promised land wherever that maybe. Not that I was comparing myself to Moses or anything, I just knew that there was an immense battle brewing and second guessing myself wasn’t going to get me anywhere.

Every cell in my body was alerting me to something I couldn’t even describe or touch. I just knew. I knew something big was about to forever change the way I looked at everything. Despite the eerie moonlight that shone on the gnarled oak claws the world was cloaked in a heavy darkness. The stars hung low but they refused to shine as if lamenting the things that were about to come. It took me a split second to realize that this darkness that surrounded me wasn’t literal. It was spiritual. Something within my soul told me that the world I once knew was slowly succumbing to this madness. In the twinkling of an eye everything had changed. Everything I thought was truth had evaporated into the ghostly past. One by one lies were coming out of the antique French armoires. Whatever else was hidden would not remain that way for long. Lies couldn’t be repressed forever. They had a way of catching up with you.

The only thing I could think of was running. I had to outrun the stench of toxic herbs and spicy rum that hounded me. I had to outrun the claws that tugged on my hair. I had to outrun my past. I had to outrun The Past and somehow stop it from manifesting in the present. I wanted to run until my bare feet turned raw and bled viciously. Alas, as Bade would lovingly say silly Arelia.

I felt silly because I knew that I couldn’t run forever, but I was smart enough to admit that I was terrified of the battle that lay ahead. I had made the mistake of buying into the lie that had been forced down my throat since birth. The lie that insisted that time was linear. Things happened and they forever remained within the confines of crusty old history books. Society forgot the faces, voices struggles and warnings of those who came before them and the world moved on. The past is over, but the present you can seize and all of that jazz. It was such a limited way of looking at life. I had come to realize that Bon Dieu was much bigger than our minuscule perception.

I’m hungry and my feet hurt. The irritated voice interrupted my philosophical musings. My sweat turned ice cold and chills inched their way up my back. The tiny hand that was entwined with mine tightened its sweaty grip almost crushing my fingers in the process. I refused to look to my side. I couldn’t face her. Did you hear me? I’m hungry!!! My feet hurt and I’m tired. Do you even have a plan? The voice was getting increasingly annoyed with every step we took. Emilie always had food.

I let out a small sigh as I brushed away a wisp of Spanish moss that had managed to creep into my ear. Of course Emilie always had food, I said under my breath. It was the number one rule of war: food and entertainment. I had learned Panem et Circensus from the million and one times that Sabrina had forced me to watch Gladiator. She had claimed that it was the only movie in which Russell Crowe would ever be remotely hot. Distract the masses with food and entertainment while Rome burns. A flashback from our ninth grade history class hit me. I remembered nerdishly cute Mr. Jackson with his furrowed brow and floppy hair furiously reading us Juvenal: "the People who once upon a time handed out military command, high civil office, legions — everything, now restrains itself and anxiously hopes for just two things: bread and circuses."

At that time Sabrina had mockingly stuck out her tongue at his angst. In retrospect it became clear that every step she had taken had been a carefully placed sign prepping me for this big revelation. She had distracted me with bread and circuses creating an illusion around her that was never real. It only appeared that way to me because I was too busy to search for truth. It suddenly occurred to me that all her snarky remarks, put downs and superiority complex were tactics to make sure I didn’t remember who I really was. She had wanted to delay the inevitable that one day I would wake up from my slumber and come into my powers again. I didn’t have the option of lamenting over the imaginary Sabrina Richards and beating myself over my shortcomings. I had to take down Emilie and find Him. Who was this mystery man and how did he have so much supernatural power over Emilie and Ghede Massaka?

I’M HUNGRY!!! The tiny hand started to dig its sharp claw like nails into my knuckles. I’M HUNGRY! I’M HUNGRY! I’M HUNGRY! You’re pathetic, do you know that? I’d rather be dancing with Ghede Massaka and his smelly sack! Take me back to Emilie!

I fixed my gaze on a clump of moss. I couldn’t face her. I couldn’t look at her. It was too painful. The product of Cecile and Edmond’s twisted relationship was forever perfectly preserved in the form of a beautiful baby zombie. A soulless baby zombie, I couldn’t forget that part. She was nothing more than an animated corpse. What was flesh without spirit? Without soul? Nothing. Out of the million lessons I had learned that was the most important one of all.

Look at me! she demanded. You’re such a coward!

I ignored her and continued to pull her forward. I was determined to harden my heart Exodus Pharaoh style until I figured out how to deal with her. I wanted to be one of those people who had ice running through their veins, unshaken by pleads, doe eyes, tears and chubby cheeks. Yes, I wanted to be this way all the while having perfectly manicured fingernails, impossibly shiny hair, perfectly plucked eyebrows and a bank account that never ran out of dough. If I had been that way I wouldn’t have fallen for any of them. I wouldn’t have let Sabrina, Ben and Viola into my heart and this whole mess could have been avoided. Who else was involved? Aunt Mae? Grand-mere Bea? I took a deep breath and immediately repressed my self-destructive ideology. In theory, my Exodus Pharaoh idea was pure genius, but I knew it was vastly flawed. If I had been ruthless, cold, unapproachable and hard I would have missed out on the most exquisite emotions ever known to man: kissing Lucus, schooling Louis, dancing with tricky spirits, eating chocolate and letting the beautiful chaos of New Orleans sweep me away.

The wind grew warmer, so warm that my sweat dried up instantly and my fears evaporated somewhat. A rush of fresh summer air filled with the scent of magnolia blooms and crepe myrtle breezed into the forest. An enchanting wild white lily magically tucked itself behind my right ear. Bade was near. His words danced in the air and whispered in my ear. I felt his invisible fingers run through my tangled hair. Not so silly, Arelia, he hissed. "There is spiritual wickedness in high and low places all around you. Just remember that they would do anything to materialize their every wish. Before anything manifests in the physical, it is birthed in the spiritual realm. Remember that they want to materialize their every wish. They have wicked dreams and aspirations to destroy."

They would do anything to materialize their every wish? I repeated unsure of the meaning of those words and their significance. I was pretty sure I didn’t even want to know what he meant. Destroy what?

Yes, but spiritual wickedness can be fought when light is shone on it. Become the light not the dark, he warned ignoring my questions. "Because it is oh so very easy to melt into the darkness and become the darkness. Lastly, not so silly Arelia, not all spirits are to be trusted. Test the spirits. All of the spirits. As you may have guessed, there is a war and even spirits get to pick sides," he hissed with ferocity that I had never heard in his voice before. The wind grew hot, so hot that it felt as if I had been tossed into a fiery furnace filled with unquenchable flames that required constant blood sacrifices. Suddenly, Emilie seemed like the least of my problems.

Let me guess, not all of them like me. Great. How many other smelly Ghede Massaka’s were out there and what did they want? What were they trying to materialize?

Not so silly Arelia, keep your eyes open, your spirit guarded and remember when all hope seems lost and the enemy seems larger than life, the biggest man you ever did see was once just a baby. With those cryptic words he left me. I’m sure he had meant to be comforting but his warning had sent me into panic mode. Exactly how big was this man that I had to imagine him as a baby? Was Bade referring to Him? Was He using Emilie to get to me? What made me so special that a seemingly larger than life enemy was out to get me? This was way too much information all at once.

Viola’s grip started to tighten even further almost crippling my circulation. For a mere moment I had almost forgotten that she was there. As she continued to squeeze, something within me snapped and I refused to take any more of her antics. After all, my soul was older than hers. Maybe all she needed was some good old fashioned Ti Jean type schooling.

I came to a halt. No more running. My move prompted her to stop dead in her tracks. I turned to face her and was momentarily captivated by her beauty under the pale moonlight. I couldn’t stop my heart from melting. Her raven colored hair shone brilliantly and her cold blue eyes were filled with an endearing innocence that showed that she wasn’t merely an animated corpse but perhaps a warm soul. Her heart shaped mouth held an expression so serene that she could have been pulled straight out of a Sandro Botticelli painting. It wasn’t the face of evil, not the crazy serial killer clown-type so many of us were accustomed to fear.

I knelt in front of her and instinctively brushed off the mud and leaves that stuck to her pale satin dress. I’ll fix this when we get to the house, I said, as I glanced at her lace collar with its unraveling pearl trim. It was a half truth. I had no idea how to stitch or sew but now seemed like a good time to learn.

She lowered her lashes. They were light and feathery against her plump cheeks. Hey, heads up, I said, as I lifted up her dejected chin from its lowly position.

Her eyes met mine. She was the picture of innocence. For a few seconds she simply stared at me. When she finally spoke, her voice was soft and low. Her mouth quivered as if she were on the verge of tears. I’m so hungry, she said.

As soon as we get to the house, I’ll make you whatever you want. Do you like chocolate chip pancakes? Gumbo? Creole Mac and Cheese? My stomach rumbled in agreement at those options. Rice and corn calas? Turtle cookies? Cajun pizza?

She shook her head disapprovingly. I’m hungry now. I can’t wait until we get back to the house. She dug her tiny satin slipper into the mud and took a firm stance. She adamantly crossed her arms across her chest. She had definitely inherited my stubbornness.

I decided to reason with her. What do you suggest we do? There isn’t any food out here. Come on Viola, I’ll race you back to the house. I bet I’ll win, I said teasingly in hopes of getting half a smile out of her. On the count of three." Secretly, I was more afraid of Him manifesting

She refused to move. Instead, she let out a bored sigh. Mulberries, she said. There was a hint of mystery about the way she said mulberries.

What?

I saw some mulberries back there. She pointed towards a clearing behind her. If I eat a few berries, I promise that I won’t complain until we get back to the house.

At this point, I should have grabbed her hand and dragged her into the house. It would have been the most logical step to take. Alas, my heart had gotten involved and it was already too late. Once your heart gets involved, there ain't no way you can turn back, I muttered.

She laughed. Her voice was high and clear like a bell. She started to spin round and round. The moon hit her eyes in all the right places. They glowed with a supernatural brilliance that left me in a drunken trance. The look was stronger than any rum I had ever tasted or the most juiced up Hurricane in all of New Orleans. She stretched out her tiny arm and beckoned me. She was all Emilie more than Cecile. I was transfixed. She was the moon and I was the ocean. I attempted to keep my dirty feet planted firmly into the mud but her lure was too strong. "Here we go 'round the mulberry bush. The mulberry bush, the mulberry bush. Here we go 'round the mulberry bush, she sang sweetly as if she were a siren rather than a perfectly possessed baby zombie. I only want some mulberries that’s all," she said innocently.

My mind told me that I had walked this path before. I had been down this road and I couldn’t continue. Unfortunately for me, I had no will of my own or mind enough to remember what loa could have assisted me.

Dark the stars and dark the moon. What brings us together is what pulls us apart. Dark to light and light to dark. Three black carriages three white carts. She beckoned oh so sweetly as she continued to spin. No! I mouthed wishing I had the strength to resist her lure. When I heard the ghostly sound of chains and a horse carriage, I knew that it was already too late and that mulberries were the last thing that was on the mind of my little darling.

2

Who Will You Serve?

Darkwood Plantation Present Day

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The stars above us turned a deep scarlet that would have made the perfect lipstick color for a seductress on the hunt. Against the pitch black sky, they were larger than life. One by one they appeared to fall from the heavens in a great and terrible flash that made the earth shake and the wind howl and moan as if toiling in birthing pains. The massive oak trees began to grow larger and larger and the sound of rattling chains and carriage wheels continued to rise. The earth shook with a fury that brought me to my knees.

A thick mist appeared and began to slowly cover the forest and soon, Viola began to rise into the air. Her countenance was stern and determined. Her brow was furrowed and her raven locks flowed freely around her resembling a wild lion’s mane. The look of innocence had abandoned her completely. Instead, she was filled with a lust for vengeance, domination and victory. She was ethereal. All the supernatural sights, smells and wonders that I had seen paled in comparison to her. Holy! Holy! Holy! I unwillingly shouted while my knees trembled. The words unwillingly spilled out.

My soul told me that what I was saying was wrong because it wasn’t the truth. She was anything but holy. You see, most people don’t realize that anything contradictory to the truth is wrong. Aunt Mae had taught me that there was no black or white, right or wrong only grey, but I was beginning to realize that maybe that wasn’t the truth. The truth was black or white not whatever color we wished it to be. It was a hard pill to swallow the fact that Bon Dieu was in charge and that we weren’t as powerful as we thought we were and that we couldn’t go around making our own rules. The truth didn’t require our belief in it to exist. It existed regardless of what we thought. I gave myself a mental pat on the back. I had formed my own opinion in spite of what I had been taught.

Praise Him! Viola shouted in a voice that wasn’t hers anymore. It belonged to Emilie. "Praise Him who shall set His throne above all creation! Praise Him who shall exalt himself over the Ancient of Days! You shall sacrifice Viola to Ghede Massaka and you will become a willing participant in His army!"

At this point, I was more than a little freaked out mostly because I had no idea what she was talking about but it sounded so dramatic. In fact, it sounded more dramatic than any situation I had ever been in before. There was a certain force behind her words that told me exactly how serious she was. Not that I had expected anything less from Sabrina/Emilie, she had a flair for showmanship that I had never managed to master. If I had to willingly give my powers over to Emilie through Ghede Massaka I had a feeling that she was going to torture me relentlessly until I did. I wasn’t sure as to how much I would be able to handle. The million dollar question that I was afraid to ask was: how did Lucus and Louis fit into all of this? Emilie or whoever she was working for was a master at strategy and I would have been a fool to think that this whole curse didn’t run even deeper than I had been led to believe. And why did Ti Jean want me to keep quiet about the fact that I had been Cecile? Despite the uncertainty of everything, I had faith. That’s right, I muttered. Gotta keep the faith.

While the mist began to thicken, the sound of rattling chains and carriage wheels grew louder. The scent of fear filled the air and I knew exactly who I was about to meet. I knew that the infamous, wicked and dreadful Petro Bakaulu-Baka was about to step out of the carriage. This particular loa had dominion over the forest, making your worst fears come to life and oddly enough chains. He was so terrible that Kings and Queens almost never invoked him because he was untrustworthy in addition to being nasty. His demand for live dog sacrifices was beyond horrific as he loved to bite off their ears and drink their blood. Desperate Kings and Queens often left him sacrifices that fed his peculiar lust because they were afraid that he would come after their family members if they didn’t. I shuddered at the thought of what sinister plans he had for humans including me. A picture of China’s Yulin festival randomly flashed before my eyes and I knew that there was no way in hell I was sacrificing an innocent puppy to this monster.

Viola laughed as she stared at me from above. She knew exactly what was coming. She relished the look of