Rebelled, An Arelia LaRue Novel #7

By Kira Saito

Down in New Orleans, there is a dangerous, deadly and unpredictable war brewing. Arelia LaRue quickly realizes that both the physical and spiritual worlds are at risk along with countless unsuspecting souls. From the chaos, romance and brutality of revolutionary Haiti, Arelia chases after the past only to find that its implications are now fully manifesting in a horrifying manner.

In the midst of discovering shocking secrets, experiencing devastating heartache, and fighting spiritual wickedness in high and low places, Arelia must act like a true Queen. She must push her own emotions aside, even if that means giving up the one person whose soul she loves above all else.
Arelia’s haunting world filled with the beautiful and gruesome will spirit you away...

• Language: English
• Publisher: Kira Saito
• Release date: Aug 21, 2016
• ISBN: 9781310604485

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

Chapter One

Somewhere on the other side, Present Day

Giving Up

Black stars , purple rain, darkness, spirals, the grave and the slow painful descent into death had once again become a reality. I was drowning in sweat, blood, murky water and bitter regret. The end was nigh and along with it the manifestation of all I had rebelled against. The very freedom which I had struggled to obtain, I had foolishly let slip through my greasy, buttermilk drop coated fingers. It was now no more than a ghostly regret haunted by the voices of all those who I had disappointed.

Further and further I sank, all while the stench of decay and rot without the numbing effects of spicy rum became stronger and stronger. It felt as if it was the end of all things seen, unseen, known and unknown. All of my tricks and mighty gris-gris charms had failed me, and now I was about to become no more than a mere tragic memory.

I was sinking into a black pool. I was bruised and battered. I couldn't tell exactly what I felt. All I knew was that I was unrecognizable to myself, which was the worst thing anyone could ever be. Worn out and distressed, I caught a glimpse of myself in the water, and I didn't know my face. I was only a rebellious girl made out of earth, clay and perhaps some much-fabled stardust. What I had thought was faith had been no more than a delusion of my desires. Desires that were based on the realm of the physical and the immediate. I had felt pity for the wrong people, and now I was royally screwed. There was no turning back after all of the mistakes I had made. Somehow I doubted that there would be anymore sweet-tea/Creole cheesecake picnics lovingly laid out by Lucus. It wasn’t in the cards and of that I was almost half certain of.

In the secret recesses of my mind, I could hear the tormented laments of Marie, the Wild Rose, little Ghede Linto, Lucus, Louis, Erzulie, Aunt Mae, Grand-mere Bea, Collette, Abram, the other slaves and the endless voices of those spirits who had betted on my victory. I felt every one of their fears pulse through my blood, and I wanted desperately to open my mouth and comfort them, but the words were trapped between here and the other side.

The voice which was the loudest belonged to the Wild Rose. Her words were muffled between heartbreaking wails. You’re the only hope we have… Fight. Arelia. Fight and you’ll come out of this alive… Please… It can’t end like this. You can’t… please… this is so much bigger than us. I swear I’ll tell you all I know as soon as you get up. Her enchanting words filled the air and along with it came a whiff of wild roses, French perfume, sea-breeze, and coconuts. For a brief moment, she flashed before my eyes. So beautiful, tragic and hopeful. I wanted to reach out and squeeze her perfectly manicured well-moisturized hand, but I couldn’t muster the strength.

There were no words of comfort that I could offer her. The words I wanted to speak belonged nowhere now. I no longer belonged. I had let them down, and I had failed myself. Now, the only eventuality was joining His army and then the hellfire and eternal torment prophesied by Erzulie and Grand-mere Bea. If there was something worse than being a failure headed for hellfire, I sure couldn’t think of it.

Yes, I was dramatic, but now was the time for drama as I was certain that my mojo had run out and not even Louis with his angelic voice or Lucus with his heart of gold could bring me back. I didn’t have faith the size of a mustard seed. Hell, I didn’t even have faith the size of a coconut seed. Viola had sucked every last ounce of it dry along with the very marrow of my bones. The darkness was overwhelming as I continued to sink further into the water.

I felt like a Southern version of Ophelia; all hope lost, heartbroken beyond repair, readily and willingly submitting to the forces that would consume her. My long, dark hair floated around me as silky white magnolias formed a crown around my head. I suppose the simple yet beautiful funeral was fit for a queen who had been ousted out of court and replaced with a more worthy ruler. I swore the haunting melody of Parla Piu Piano mixed with the Game of Thrones theme was rustling through the Spanish moss as if serenading me good-bye.

Parla più piano e Nessuno sentirà

Il Nostro Amore lo Viviano io e te

Nessuno sa la verità

Neppure il Cielo che ci Guarda da lassù

Insieme a te io resterò

Amore mio, sempre così

Parla più piano e vieni più vicino a me

Voglio sentire gli occhi miei Dentro di te

---

For a fleeting moment, the stench disappeared, and the air was alive and danced with the intoxicating smells I so adored. I caught my last whiff of all the things I held dear, too spicy gumbo, too sweet iced chocolate café au laits, chocolate-chip pancakes, Creole crab cakes and fiery jambalaya with extra guinea peppers thrown in for good measure.

The truth was, I didn’t have any more fight left in me. I had officially given up like those people Emilie had endlessly mocked, the ones who wore holey gray sweat pants in public and refused to brush their hair or sometimes even their teeth. I felt like putting on a ratty bathrobe and hiding under the warm cocoon of a fluffy duvet while boxes of takeout lay rotting on the floor. For a split second, I even wished that I hadn’t remembered who I truly was and that somehow I was back at Lola’s making café au laits and resenting my crappy life.

I was tired at the extent of manipulation, lies and deceit that existed in this world and the worlds beyond. Suddenly, dealing with fat overbearing landlords seemed like such a petty and inviting problem. Being used by rich Tony type Playboys didn't seem half bad either.

I suppose all of this teenage angst was brought on by the fact that I wasn’t with Lucus. Yes, souls hung in the balance, spiritual wickedness abound in high and low places, devil incarnates, twisted evil sisters out for revenge and backstabbing baby zombie daughters were running around, but none of that mattered. What mattered was that not being with him was devastating to a point where I knew that I couldn’t continue to fight simply because it hurt too much.

The only full truth that I had learned was that love, true love, the kind that intertwined with your soul and made your spirit fly in a million different directions while making you feel as complete as you could have ever imagined was dangerous. No, I wasn’t thinking of the superficial type of love that vanished as the years went by and the pounds packed on, but the type of love that lasted throughout the day-to-day or in my case, the century-to-century. It was deadly, and I was proof of that. I had also learned that being with the one you truly loved was a privilege set aside for the brave. What my many experiences had taught me was that most people craved true love, but they were simply too afraid to fight for it. I was beginning to realize that maybe I was one of those people.

If I didn’t stop the madness now, I would have died a million and one lifetimes for Lucus. I would have given him the breath I inhaled and the very heart that pumped blood through my veins. But much more than that, I would have suffered in eternal agony for him just as long as he was free and at peace. It was clear that I wasn’t the one to offer him peace. Given our history, I was the catalyst that always seemed to propel him into trouble and danger. He deserved better. How the hell had I become a helpless romantic? I hadn’t a clue.

So dramatic, silly sister! So romantic! I didn't think you'd ever really learn to love again, given your experiences with the ever so dashing Edmond. Emilie taunted from the other side. Well, none of that matters because it's far too late. Now, since you're better than gone, let me give you a piece of advice. Your flair for philosophy, self- reflection and Dickens along with your inability to act is the cause of your tragic downfall. Kingdoms are not built, and respect is not gained. These things do not wait for the indecisive and weak of heart. All of these things need to be taken and taken by force and not by endless self-reflection! See, what you fail to understand is that others see you exactly the way you want them to see you. The sheep need a leader and if that leader is a wolf, then so be it! I know you believe that I'm no more than a blood-thirsty fool, but believe me when I say that I too have convictions that drive me, convictions that force me to be things I could never have imagined myself to be.

She was loud and bold. Sexy and confident. I could smell her pomegranate flavored lip gloss. I could almost taste the blood on her breath and the skin beneath her nails. She put me to shame. Her words confirmed my worst fears, the fears that I had worked so hard to overcome, to fight, to gain victory over, the fear of never being good enough. The ghost that tormented me was back with a vengeance.

Alas, I had a simple solution for this mess, and that solution was taking myself out of the picture. I was tired of having my naïve hopes dashed at every turn by those forces that were far greater than me. What I needed to feel was simpler than laughable death, it was much more drastic. It was apathy or as Wikipedia would robotically define as a lack of feeling, interest, and concern. I didn’t want to give a damn about the social, spiritual, philosophical and physical world around me. Regardless, deep down, I was smart enough to realize that I needed help and that this little act of rebellion wouldn’t end well. I needed someone to slap me then and there, someone to pull me out of the spiral of madness.

This whole mess was more than half my fault. I had been unwise, stubborn, full of pride, and now I was about to reap what I had sown. The infinite number of warnings that had been given to me had been tossed carelessly aside by my ego. Every need got an ego to feed. I had trusted myself, yes, but at what cost? There was a fine line between healthy self-esteem and lofty pride that refused to listen to the wisdom of others. I had waited too long to take action, and Emilie had taken advantage of my compassion and indecision.

Lightning, thunder, and brimstone emanated from the heavens. The ground roared, trembled and shook as if all of the earth’s volcanoes had erupted with one fiery explosion. Light from above electrified the once serene pool of water that had unexpectedly become my grave. The majestic oaks bellowed lazily in the sticky, humid summer air as if oblivious to the epic, biblical tragedy that was unfolding in front of them. I suppose they had seen it all and my little story would become another Southern legend that would continue to lurk in the shadows for centuries to come. They bid me au dieu once again as I continued my descent into the bottomless abyss. Their lack of interest in my plight prompted an unexpected laugh to slip through my lips.

I saw Viola’s tiny shadow dance above me in unrestrained delight. Round and round she twirled in dizzying circles. Her raven locks formed a heavy curtain veiling her face. All of the pity and vain fantasies that I had painted for our future had evaporated and now for the first time, I saw her as she truly was, nothing more than an empty vessel controlled by the forces of evil. I resented all the times I had been used by Edmond and despised the fact that I gave birth to such a monster. My mistake had been believing that I could save her when I couldn't even save myself. I could hear her sing, but it wasn't her voice at all. It was all Emilie from somewhere over the Jordan lulling the deceived masses into submission.

Chapter Two

Somewhere on the other side, Present Day

The New Cornerstone…

T his next song is dedicated to a very special someone, she said before taking a dramatic pause. Sometimes the best thing we can hope for our ill loved ones is that they fly away to a place better than this one, she persuaded the crowd before starting to sing.

---

When the shadows of this life have gone, 

I'll fly away; 

Like a bird from prison, bars has flown, 

I'll fly away (I'll fly away)

---

I'll fly away, Oh Glory

I'll fly away; (in the morning)

When I die, Hallelujah, by and by, 

I'll fly away (I'll fly away).

---

Oh. How glad and happy when we meet

I'll fly away

No more cold iron shackles on my feet

I'll fly away

---

High, nasal and strangely bittersweet the voice sang while applause followed every off-key note. She knew exactly what was happening, and that victory was now hers. The crowd that innocently sang along was blind to her games. They were oblivious that the force in their spoken words, particularly when put to music, unlocked spiritual powers. They were pushing my spirit further and further into the abyss. My spirit was indeed flying away from this plane, but I was certain it wasn’t going to see any glory.

That’s right, silly sister, since you were too stubborn to take Him up on His offer, game over for you. Victory is His and mine! Oh what a glorious day this is. By the time you find your way back to this side, it will be too late. The pyramid will be capped, and we will have our new cornerstone.

Her voice entered my mind, but my spirit and soul were determined not to be stirred or at all worried. From what I had seen of Him, He was a much stronger leader than I could ever be. At least, He had balls. But I had to admit I was slightly creeped out by her capping the pyramid comment and the new cornerstone. What did that mean? Who would it impact? I instantly thought of the measly one dollar bill tips that I had gotten so many times at Lola’s.

The back of those bills had always held a strange and powerful fascination over me. I suspected that there was way more than what met the eye, no pun intended, behind that symbolism with the pyramid and creepy eye floating above it. It also occurred to me that every celebrity, from Rihanna, Jay-Z, Pokémon all the way to Sponge Bob, was flashing that damn one-eyed symbol in one way or another.

What most people didn’t realize was that powerful spirits could manifest themselves through symbols, seals, and logos. That was the reason why so many kings and queens were obsessed with the legendary seals of Solomon. Those seals had the power to perform exorcisms or summon evil spirits depending on the intent of the practitioner. If properly manipulated, they had the ability to cause curses, suicide, diseases, and disaster, or they could also be used to keep evil away and bring honor, wealth, and glory. It suddenly dawned on me that seals and logos were everywhere.

Crap. I was beginning to get invested, and I couldn't let that happen. Alas, the allure of the unknown was too strong and addictive. The hunger for a new mystery almost wiped away all of the pain I felt and coaxed me out of my cocoon. I was pretty sure that whatever He had planned, it was on a scale so large that it would impact the entire world.

Let it go, I whispered to myself. This battle is no longer yours. It was too late to go back. I had reached the point of no return. I was ready to openly admit defeat, raise my hands in the air along with a white flag. Ti Jean in all of his rage had been right when he had warned me that being ruthless was a necessary evil at times.

I had believed that being a blind pacifist would make me more worthy and noble. Louis had been correct when he had accused me of being self-righteous and self-sacrificing. At that time, I had taken his words with a shot of vodka and had assured myself that they couldn't possibly be true. I was beginning to see that everyone had been warning me of my demise, and I had paid them no attention. Why were we doomed to get the big picture only when it was too late? And why in the world did we only reflect on all the missed opportunities when we were on the verge of death and not earlier? Clearly, the system was broken, and the glitches in the matrix were becoming more evident. My spirit was beginning to fight again, and that scared the hell out of me, but what I hadn't expected was that like the stubborn flu, my situation would get worse before it finally got better.

Chapter Three

Somewhere on the other side, Present Day

These are the Days of Jericho

I gnore Emilie ! Come follow me! A familiar voice hissed from beyond the grave. She is a mere puppet, but you are so much more than that. These are the days of Jericho, not so silly Arelia. The walls are about to fall, and the enemy is at the gate. The enemy knows what time it is, but do you?

Days of Jericho? I asked mentally knowing that he could hear me. I wasn’t quite ready for more biblical sized revelations.

Yes, Bade said. We must tread down the walls of Jericho before it’s too late and the enemy conquers us. This is no time to think about yourself. The enemy is close, and so many innocent people are sleeping in a coma, so deep and dangerous that they don’t know what awaits them.

He was cryptic as usual. It pissed me off. Why the hell couldn’t he just speak in plain and simple language so that I could understand? I had never asked him before. I figured now was a good time. Why do you have to speak in riddles? It can get frustrating sometimes.

He laughed again, deeply, so profoundly that the skies above shook and the wind howled and moaned with delight. The deep mysteries of Bon Dieu cannot be revealed to those who are not willing to search, to struggle, to pull themselves out of the haze the rest of the world is under and go deeper into the unknown.

Despite myself, I snorted. You make Bon Dieu sound like some petty kid sitting on His throne waiting for all sorts of attention.

To those who are uninitiated, it must seem that way, but not so silly Arelia, to those who are wise, my riddle filled piece of advice is worth more than silver, gold, rubies or the largest pearl. Or in language that you can better understand the greasiest beignet in all of New Orleans.

More riddles, more mysteries and more dark paths that I was destined to walk. The madness had to stop. I couldn't continue down the rabbit hole any longer; I wanted to believe him, but I wouldn't let myself fall into another destructive trap.

I'm flattered by your fascination with me, and this whole savior complex that you all have going on, but this is all too much. I didn't invite any of this in. I can't… I can't afford to be hurt anymore than I already have been. Does that make sense? I believe it’s what grownups call self-preservation. I surrender. I don’t have the heart of a warrior and in no way am I ferocious like a lion. You guys elected a terrible queen. I should have been beheaded long ago. I hated how whiny and pathetic my voice sounded, yet at the same time I didn’t give a damn. I longed for simpler days, days where I didn’t have to worry about anybody else but me and Grand-mere Bea, a time when the weight and worries of the world didn’t rest on my shoulders.

Not so silly, Arelia, you are starting to be silly again, hissed Bade from somewhere beyond the grave.

I'm not silly. I have given up and am officially resigning from a position I never truly wanted in the first place. This miserable world is full of cruelty, and I'm not going to try to fix it anymore. I thought of all the many horrors and injustices I had witnessed. I don't see a solution except for utter destruction and all that gothic jazz.

And the others? he asked. Have you forgotten about all of the others? Have you forgotten about me? His tone was melancholy and completely unlike the fearless Bade I was accustomed to. I didn't blame him. If I was tired, I could only imagine how weary he must have felt after so many years of waiting and watching for someone capable of cleaning up this gigantic mess.

I let out a heavy sigh, thick as fog.