A Late Summer Bloom (16 page)

Watching the spirits fly up through the mist, Giselle stood unmoving, staring
at the dead carcass of the warlock, unnerved at what Julien had done to protect
her. She looked for him, but instead found a stallion, tan in color, with a
mane of golden hair, standing outside. Its body was brilliant and strong as it
stamped its hooves. Flailing its body toward her, she remembered his question.
Without another thought, she mounted the horse as it bowed its body in a
curtsy. The emergence of other warlocks surrounded the diner, but she and her
horse made a high-speed exit through the parking lot and into the woods.
Hanging tight to the stallion’s blond mane, Giselle bounced on its bare back
without the aid of a saddle.

Finding it more and more difficult to hold on, she ducked her head as they
sped through the brush. Branches snapped overhead, as she heard the crackling
of dry leaves underfoot. The swirling black clouds gathered above while they
raced for safety from the driving, wicked winds. Gripping the horse’s mane, she
was infused with the sense of determination. The air echoed through the trees,
carrying with it the promise of death. The fear she felt for Julien seemed to
outweigh her own. Suddenly, bubbling up from the base of her throat, an ancient
chant spilled out. Her eyes rolled back as she tried to keep her focus and hold
on. She was growing weaker, her own chanting growing louder. The horse slowed
down and stopped, as if sensing her loss of reality. It leaned its body down to
the ground, allowing her to dismount.

As Giselle slipped further into a trance-like stupor, she wondered what
kind of spell she weaved. Unable to see what was happening, she fell into Julien’s
arms as she found it impossible to walk. Weakened with the flood of power, she
felt faint. She heard him shout, concern in his tone. “Giselle…
Giselle?
What is happening? We must get to the cavern. They
are not far behind.”

Feeling happiness just hearing his voice, knowing he was unhurt, she
succumbed to the darkness.

Chapter Twenty-Five

Desiree walked along the cobblestone streets of the French quarter.
Passing all the jazz clubs, she once again felt alive and carefree. But the
noise and the constant buzz of people had her mind jumbled and her gift
stifled. She climbed onto a trolley car, the air feeling cooler than usual. The
old, wooden seats were uncomfortable, but Desiree didn’t hesitate to sit. She
fished through her purse and pulled out the address of an elder named Darius.
He was rumored to have had a grandmother who was an auditory clairvoyant. Seeking
his wisdom and advice was just what she needed to get her mind off Simon and on
her true calling.

The traveler had been a constant thorn in her side, and since their
argument, a constant thought in her head. As she rode through the city she had
come to love so much, she focused on the overbearing traveler who had stuck to
her like glue. She said hurtful things, making him keep his distance, but it
didn’t exorcise him from her mind. Recalling one such moment, she leaned her
head in her hands for support, the sting of her words coming back to haunt her.

“
You
can watch me all you want, Simon
Granvil
. That seems
to be all your good at, anyway. Watching, not doing. Besides, if I get killed, you
won’t catch me attaching to you, like that Aimee ghost you have stuck to your
side. Why don’t you just tell her to get lost? Life is for the living, or have
you existed so long you forgot how to be alive?”
Her words came from frustration, not anger,
but the look he gave her told her she’d hurt him. She knew there was no way to
reel in her tongue. And Simon had left her without ever responding.

Desiree felt her emotions well up, but she pushed them back down. Dwelling
on it would not undo what was done. More than likely, she’d never see Simon
Granvil
again. Still, she couldn‘t shake the sadness that
seemed to dwell within her since his departure. She pulled the string at the
top of the trolley, which signaled her need to disembark. She checked the time
on her wristwatch, and realized she was too early to visit with Darius. She
wasn’t far from Lafayette Cemetery, one of the oldest graveyards in the city.
She’d seek the peacefulness of its borders and enjoy the quiet she once found
distressing.

Founded in 1833, Lafayette Cemetery attracted mostly tourists. The old
graves piqued the interest of visitors from all over. Many came to get a
glimpse of the history of the old graveyard. When she entered the cemetery, she
looked around, feeling an icy chill on her shoulders. There were age-old
tombstones and mausoleum crypts crowded together. A few people took pictures. For
what purpose, she wasn’t sure. Walking up and down the dilapidated rows of the
dead, Desiree felt an overwhelming sadness engulf her. Putting some distance
between her and the few tourists who gathered, she turned a narrow corner and smacked
her shin into an oven crypt.

Silently cursing, she bent down to examine her leg. There was a tiny
trickle of blood seeping out from a cut just below her knee.
Merde
!
Grabbing a tissue from her purse, she
blotted the wound when she felt her ears begin that slow familiar burn. Her
head began to splinter as the nausea rolled in the pit of her stomach. This was
the worst she’d felt since discovering her true calling.

Staying in a bent position, she tried to catch her breath, hearing the faint
whispers of a man filled with sorrow and grief. Closing her eyes, she heard the
sweet words of love and longing for his beloved. The experience caused her to
cry real tears, as if she were at the core of his anguish. Carefully listening
to the voice, she was suddenly alarmed at the familiarity.
Could it be?
He changed from French to English in mid-sentence. He
called his beloved,
mon
ange
.
Every syllable, every
inflection, screamed Simon
Granvil
.
Engulfed
by a yearning to go to him, Desiree was crippled by the nostalgia overpowering
her senses. When his words began to fade away, she heard a southern accent, a heavy
twang.
“Miss?
Miss?
You all right?”

Desiree gazed up into the eyes of a tall, handsome man wearing a cowboy
hat. He stood offering her his hand, to help her to her feet. She noticed
behind him stood a group of young women looking on in concern. Ignoring them,
she nodded her head. He pulled her to her feet, she felt dizzy. She leaned into
him as he steadied her. Desiree faked a smile. “Thank you. I’m fine. I’m just a
bit emotional.”

The man didn’t say anything, but she noticed his brow lift and look
around at the very old graves. Looking behind her, he narrowed his eyes as if
reading the name of the deceased on the crypt where she sat. “I see, miss.
This Aimee
Granvil
?
She your great, great, great grandmamma, then?”

Quickly turning around, Desiree read the name on the crypt. In large
faded letters, there it was—
Aimee
Granvil
. Shocked and speechless, she turned back to the
handsome stranger.

“I—.
Thank you for your kindness. I’m okay, now.”

“Seeing as I have a few ladies to entertain, miss, I can’t stick around
much. We’re about to go rustle up some dinner, maybe get a cold one?
Wanna
join us? You seem like you could use a friend.” He
paused, “By the way, I’m Colton but you can call me Colt.”

Desiree gave him her best fake smile. “It’s nice to meet you, Colt. I’m
Desiree Mercier. Thanks for the offer but I have an appointment to get to.”

His smile was intoxicating. No wonder those females were hanging around
him.

“Well, don’t let me stop
ya
, then. It was
real nice
meetin
’
ya
, Miss
Desiree. Maybe I’ll see
ya
round.” Colt politely
tipped his hat then joined his group and walked off.

She watched him saunter away. Bringing her eyes back to rest on the old
tombstone, Desiree began to consider the unthinkable. Pulling away, the sick
feeling was ever-present as she stumbled her way down the row toward the exit. She
didn’t want to look back, but she felt compelled to. In doing so, she glimpsed
a moment of the past. In a time when the old ragged grounds looked fresher,
manicured, younger. She
glanced
Simon
Granvil
, beaten down by life, nothing to live for, look on
as his wife was laid to rest. His sorrow and unhappiness shook her so. She clutched
her stomach and walked away as fast as she could.

Desiree walked along the old broken sidewalks of the garden district, almost
passing the boarding house where Darius lived. She took a deep breath. Letting
it out, she focused on why she was here. Straightening her spine and gathering
her nerve, she walked to the door. A woman, eyes crinkled with age, and life
piled on her shoulders, greeted her. She pointed to a door at the end of the
hall. “He’s
spectin
’ you
swee
—hot.”
It was the syrupy sounding lilt in her voice that caused Desiree to smile.

Inside a spotless bedroom with starched white curtains, she found
Darius. He sat perched on the edge of a chair, his hands resting on the tip of
a cane between his legs. In one corner, a television played the shopping network,
in the other, a gilded birdcage hung. Darius’ eyes were glazed over, white, his
blindness apparent. “Come, lovey. Sit down. Can I offer you something to
drink?” He pointed to the mini refrigerator next to him.

“Uh, no thanks.
You have a lovely room.”

“Yes. I rather like it. The other boarding houses aren’t up to par.
They thought since I was blind, I could not see. Silly fools.”

Desiree let out a nervous giggle. “So, you understand why I’m here.”

“I u-n-d-e-r-s-t-a-n-d.”
He said, singing the words like a jingle
to a horror movie.

“Then what can you tell me about my true calling?”

Darius got comfortable. Sitting back in his chair, he pulled his
walking stick closer and tucked it under his chin. “My grandmamma had a long,
slow descent into madness. You see, my dear, your gift is not for the
fainthearted. My blood considered it a hex. I, of course,
know
different. But be warned, its destructive nature to one’s mental capacity is
strong. Humans will say you are schizophrenic. As a matter of fact, many humans
who have been put away for such problems are auditory clairvoyants.”

As she paced, Darius followed her with his head.

When Desiree’s nerves got the best of her, she was never able to
control her tongue. “If you cannot see me, how do you know where I am?”

Darius laughed. “Oh, I can assure you my dear, I am one hundred percent
blind. I wouldn’t have it any other way. It helps me to see your aura much more
clearly. It is your aura which I follow with my eyes.”

“Forgive me. I don’t mean to be disrespectful. I’m not pacing around
here on purpose. I’m just a bit high strung today.”

“Today?”
He laughed and in the same breath became deadly
serious. “You have two auras my dear, but the big circle inside the main one is
what has me concerned.”

“Circle inside a circle? I’m confused.”

“You should be. There are not many documented cases of a double aura
and I am quite intrigued by you. But, I must give you a warning, it could mean
danger. I’d like to do some research. Will you agree to come back to see me?”

“Yes, of course. Can you tell me anything about a double aura? What
does it mean? Do I have someone attached to me perhaps?”

Darius’ laugh was the deep guttural sound of a smoker. “No, my dear,
you don’t.”

She let out a relieved sigh. “Oh, thank the gods.”

“It just means that your past aura is trying to fuse with your present
aura.”

She crinkled up her forehead. “Pardon me?”

“Think. There must have been a recent catalyst of some kind that
triggered your aura from the past to try to merge with your aura in the
present. Although it is one in the same, the memories are colliding. Have you
had any past life experiences or memories recently?”

Desiree immediately recalled the time with Simon in her apartment and,
most recently at the cemetery. She nodded her head. “I might have, but I
thought it was something else.
Darius?
Are you telling
me that if I recently had a memory of a past life
that I am in fact
the
person
from that lifetime?”

“Yes, my dear. That’s exactly what I’m telling you.”

Chapter Twenty-Six

Giselle awoke to the sounds of trickling water and the smell of the
damp earth. Cocooned in Julien’s arm, she felt warm and safe. Completely unaware
of the details surrounding her present circumstance, she strained her memory to
recall the past few hours or days, unsure how she’d gotten here. Lifting herself
gently up on her elbows, she looked around.

Astounded by the magnificence of her location, Giselle studied her surroundings,
admiring the beauty of the cavern walls. The limestone and stalagmites resembled
shapes any active imagination could ponder. To her, the walls resembled guitar
strings attached
to
 
massive
drums playing the old music of
the gypsies Angelique was so fond of. But it was the steamy pool at the base of
the cave that captured her interest. The water looked inviting, so much so,
Giselle’s decision to explore the beauty of this natural wonder came easily to
her. Ever so gently, she removed Julien’s arm from her body. Her tattered tee-shirt,
covered with dirt and blood, made her gasp. Looking further, she slipped the
blanket down, revealing his mangled torso. Slapping her hand over her mouth,
she stifled the scream rising up from the base of her throat.