I sought to bury my pain. I devoted my energies to the mansion she loved and began the long process of restoring it.
But she was always there.
Her memory walked the halls of the grieving mansion as well as the empty desolate chambers of my immortal heart. The moonlit field of flowers held a thousand images of her and she remained in the long hours that passed in silence each night. Although death would eventually claim her, the light she brought into my world would never die.
Luna. My immortal beloved.
A few months after she married, I found myself standing outside the house by the Mississippi bluffs. They were both asleep. I did what I promised myself I would not do when I set out for their home: I entered it, materialising in the living room. I looked around me at their warm homely living room and my loneliness overcame me. I moved to a chair near the fireplace. A book had been left on the chair and a shawl discarded casually over the back it. Tears filling my eyes, I picked up the shawl and pressed it to my face, inhaling her scent.
I was startled by the sound of movement upstairs in the bedroom. All too soon I heard bare feet on a wooden floor moving toward the bedroom door and then out onto the landing.
It was Luna. For a brief moment, I considered remaining where I was so I could see her face again, even for a second. But before she could reach the stairs, I let the shawl slip out of my hands and moved into the nothingness and out of the house. I reappeared in the trees and sped away, leaving the house far behind me.
From then on, I took to watching her through the eyes of those around her. I mostly chose her mother, as she was the only one who saw Luna often, apart from Jupiter. And I did not wish to see her through his eyes because I knew I would see too much that would fan the flames of envy in my heart. So although there was the risk of her sensing my presence, I took to journeying to the Marshall plantation every week where I could observe Mama Akosua’s thoughts, hoping for a glimpse of Luna. Shortly after Luna married, I paid a visit to Mama Akosua’s master and placed the thought in his mind to free her. When he approached her with this, she refused her freedom and only asked for one day a week away from the plantation to visit Luna. This was enough for me to know she still considered me an enemy and would kill me given the opportunity.
Thankfully, she was usually distracted after a day spent with Luna and relatively happy, her mind solely on her daughter and the time she spent with her that day.
I stayed in the shadows, drinking in Luna’s beauty through her mother’s memories, thankful I had that connection to her, at least.
One night, the witch was recalling the afternoon spent cooking with Luna when Jupiter entered her memories, which seldom happened.
He walked into the kitchen and leaned over Luna’s shoulder to see what she was making. She turned to him and kissed him on the cheek before nudging him out of the kitchen.
It was the first time I had seen him since the day I let Luna go. At the sight of him, I immediately felt the thorns of envy clutch at my heart.
I was about to draw away from Mama Akosua’s mind when she did the strangest thing.
She recoiled from the memory and then floundered for a few moments before skipping through a few other events that occurred that day until she came to one that featured only Luna. It was almost like someone saying the wrong thing to another and then tripping over their words as they tried to backtrack.
Was it possible she knew I was spying on her? I couldn’t pretend to understand this tricky witch. I left her mind and retreated, vowing to stay away.
But the following week, I was back at the Marshall plantation.
As before, she behaved as if she was unaware of my presence. I did not know what game she was playing, but I played along, pretending to creep on the periphery of her thoughts. Whatever she had in store for me would be revealed soon enough.
And so I continued to live, and although I had lost everything once more, I held on to grief, loneliness, and despair. And for as long as Luna continued to draw breath on this Earth, so would I.
***
A busy town. A cold, grey jail cell. There were five people huddled together as if for warmth. Fear and despair peered at me out from faces drawn with tension. The youngest female, a mulatto with long, thick ebony hair worn in two French plaits, kept looking at the chain around her ankle. It was the first time she had ever been chained and the future suddenly seemed completely dark outside that jail. The older female watched her daughter in abject misery. An ex-slave, she was all too familiar with the chain around her ankle and of much, much worse.
I was awake beneath the lake.
The dream drifted back to its gossamer grave. Then I registered what had awakened me. A single word.
Please.
It could only have been uttered by one person. Mama Akosua.
I recalled the details of the vision she had sent me. The young female looked to be about ten years old and her face was instantly recognisable, although there were subtle differences between her face and her mother’s.
The baby. Luna’s baby.
I was immediately out of the water and on the edge of the lake. The sun blazed its usual assault on my mind and body.
Anxiety bound itself to me. The daylight meant it was unlikely I would get to the child before nightfall.
I started running. As I reached the mansion, the knowledge came to me, probably from Mama Akosua, that they would not begin the journey back to Mississippi until the following morning.
I stopped long enough to change clothes, pack a bag and take whatever money I kept at the mansion. I was anxious to get there as soon as possible, but knew that although I was faster than Julia, my speed would decrease as the day progressed, so I saddled her up and rode north.
***
The sun would be coming up in a few hours, so I should have been making my way back to Louisiana by now. Instead I stood outside the family’s home, my gaze on the window of the room Lina, Luna’s baby, shared with her brothers. It was proving to be an extremely emotional night as I stared at the house, knowing she was spending the rest of the night in her own bed, sleeping the dreamless sleep of an exhausted child. Her adopted parents were still awake in another room, talking in hushed tones, marvelling at the miracle that had seen them freed instead of on the long journey back to Mississippi and a life of bondage.
I searched Lina’s memories as she slept and found that although they were poor, she was loved and cherished, and a little bit spoilt by her two brothers.
My thoughts returned to the second heartbeat Onyx had mentioned so long ago, and it still had the power to make my stomach clench in anguish. I would never have children of my own. But I could find joy in Luna’s, in this precious child she’d had to give away.
I was interrupted from my musings by movement inside her room, the rustle of bedcovers being flung back and then bare feet treading carefully across cold wooden floors. It was Lina, and although her mind was still clouded with sleep, her thoughts were on the window and something she wanted to see outside.
I moved a few doors down, moving deeper into the shadows as she came to the window and opened it, looking out toward where I stood.
Was it possible she had Luna’s gifts? I turned around and began walking away, keeping to the shadows. I had reached the next house when she spoke, her voice high and light though slurred with sleep.
“Thank you.”
I spun around, astonished, as she closed the window and went back to bed. She was fast asleep a few seconds later.
I smiled, marvelling at what had just occurred. I was even more reluctant to leave now, but I had no reason to stay. She was safe, I was sure of that. But now I knew where she was, I would keep an eye on her.
I spent the day holed up in the woods. I was woken up at sunset by two words, a deeper, emotionally charged echo of Lina’s sleepy ones.
Thank you.
Mama Akosua was gone before I could respond.
I left my grave and spent a few moments watching the sun set. In the wilderness, before I found Luna, this sight signified death. The slow death of my soul and a literal death for whoever was unfortunate enough to fall prey to the demon that was tethered to me. Now it signified hope. I had lost Luna, but as long as she lived, I would have a reason to carry on because my existence had made it possible for her, and those she loved, to live as men and women. So I would live and find a way past my pain until she was truly gone.
***
A few days later, I made my weekly visit to the Marshall plantation. Hidden a safe distance away, I played the usual game of entering Mama’s mind, pretending I did not know she was aware of my presence. But this time, I found myself up against a blank wall. I waited, anxiety slithering into my heart at the thought that she would deny me my weekly glimpse of Luna. Then she spoke into my mind.
If you want to know how Luna is, you must sit with me.
I did not move. I was desperate for my weekly glimpse of Luna, but it would be sheer folly to willingly enter the witch’s cabin.
A second later, I was outside the open cabin door. When I entered, she was in the process of adding hot water to two cups and did not look up.
“Please sit down,” she said.
Her tone was soft and her demeanour almost deferential, which immediately sounded warning bells.
Her mind was still a blank wall, and knowing that entering her cabin willingly was perhaps one of the stupidest things I had ever done in my life, I moved to the table and sat down opposite her.
She began stirring the tea.
“Do you realise you were able to enter my home although I did not invite you in?”
“But you said—”
“No. I said you must sit with me, but I did not say you could enter. The magic is very precise and it must be a very clear invitation from the heart, and mind, that will allow you into a home. Mine was not.”
Silence filled the cabin. Her gaze remained trained on me, her mind a blank wall. I shifted uneasily. No, it was not a good idea to enter her cabin willingly.
She spoke again a few moments later.
“The fact that you were able to walk into my cabin, and Luna’s, without an invitation is just one of many things about you, and your connection to my daughter, that I do not understand.”
She seemed uneasy and I was reminded of Auria’s terror regarding that vision of Luna.
“She had reason to be fearful,” Mama Akosua said. “Your maker is another thing I do not understand. She did not die in that fire. Did you know that?”
I shook my head.
“But it appears as if she has not tried to find you. And I suspect it is because she was blocked from doing so.”
“As you were blocked when you first tried to find Luna and myself?”
“Yes.”
I was quiet now, deeply concerned, and those days in the wilderness, of going to sleep in the middle of summer and waking to a grim winter, came clearly to me.
Mama Akosua gasped, her eyes round with shock as she stared at me. “That is not possible.”
But judging from her expression, she knew it had happened but did not understand it. Silence hung in the small dark cabin.
She pushed one of the cups toward me.
“It is tea. Perhaps if you begin with simple food and flavours, you will begin to move on to, and perhaps be able to taste, real food again.”
“Um, how very gracious of you. Thank you.”
I picked up the cup, wondering how I was going to pour it away without her seeing, because it would be folly for me to drink it. Her gaze was sharp, watching my every move. No. There was no way I was going to drink it.
“It is one of the things I see in Luna’s mind the most,” she continued. “The meal she prepared for you that last night. She always tells herself she could have included this thing or other. Or that she should have said or done more.”
I was touched by that grief again, so swift, so complete in its total devastation as I listened to her words. She seemed sad too, although I could not tell why.
“I had to leave her,” I said. “If I had kept her with me I would have done the unthinkable, and...”
She held up a hand.
“I know more than anyone why you did not make her your wife. That is what you would have done, is it not?”
I nodded, unsure of whether or not by admitting this I was laying a trap for myself. But the image of Luna on her wedding day in a simple white dress was like a barbwire kiss and I lowered my gaze, unable to speak.
“Yes,” Mama Akosua said. “I know, for was it not I who summoned the spirit and was nearly consumed so I could find you? I cannot tell her it is because of my foolish actions that she is separated from you. It has tasted our blood now. It will forever plague us unless I find a way to banish it once and for all.”
A heavy silence settled over us, leaving me lost in thoughts of Luna and all that had been snatched from me. And in the lull of the silence that followed, I brought the tea to my lips and sipped it, my thoughts on Luna and the meal she had prepared for me on our last evening at the mansion.
“Oh, how she worries about you. She thinks you are too trusting,” Mama said, drawing me away from the gut wrenching image of Luna in the red gown. Mama Akosua’s soft tone turned to a knife edge when she spoke again. “And she is right.”
I glanced sharply up at her. She was very still, watching me like a tiger that has its prey pinned by the neck. My gaze immediately returned to the cup and my eyes widened.
When I glanced up again in consternation, she was smiling softly.
“You are too trusting,” she continued. “But I will never betray that trust.”
I closed my eyes for a few seconds as relief washed over me. When I met her gaze again, I couldn’t help smiling, the first time I had smiled in months.
“But I must warn you,” she said. “If you ever enter a witch’s home, especially one who vowed to kill you, and drink anything she offers you, I will break your skull!”
“I promise you, Mama, I will never do anything like that again.”
“Good. I asked you to sit with me today for two reasons. First, to thank you for helping my granddaughter. Luna does not know what you have done, so I will thank you for the two of us. The other reason I called you here is that there is another that needs you. A man I dreamt of. His name is Thomas.” I stared blankly at her. “You have never met him, but were he not born out of wedlock, he would share your surname.”
I leaned forward in my chair.
“He is your nephew.” She showed me an image, a hazy one, of a man in his early twenties. I did not need her to tell me he was related to me, for he had my blue eyes and I could see Albert in the slightly condescending curve of his lips. “He is a clever boy, but poor. I have foreseen that he will go on to be a great man. But he needs money and the right doors to be opened for him. You could be of great help to him.”
The image of the boy had been like a hard slap across the face and I longed for the home and life I used to have in England, especially the people I had left behind. They were no doubt all dead by now. I also thought of the second heartbeat that had haunted me for decades. Is that what my son would have looked like had I a child?
“I will set sail for England as soon as I can,” I said.
“You must leave tonight.”
I stared at her, wondering at the urgency. But I had learned that Mama Akosua often said only what she felt was necessary for someone to know, so I nodded and got to my feet.
At the door, I faced her again. “Thank you.”
She waved it away. “You may not be able to see Luna. But my door is always open to you, Wɔfa Avery.”
Wɔfa was a word in her native tongue that meant “uncle” and was sometimes used to precede the name of those that were older than you as a mark of respect.
I nodded and left. I wondered at the complete change in stance from the witch, my old foe. But my mind was on my family and the brief image of the boy that I now clutched tightly as if I were afraid it would be torn from me.