CHAPTER FIVE

“I love the idea,” said Erin. “We’ve been trying to help all of you lately, but you keep pushing us away. I think we’d all like to be involved more. Keep busy. Keep our minds moving forward. I’m in.”

“Me, too,” said Lauren. “I promise to do what you ask and to continue to help with research should you need it.”

“Same for me,” said Faith.

“Same,” came the chorus of female voices.

“Alright then, we’re all in,” said Nine. “I think we have a few more things to discuss, but…”

“Gaspar, you gotta come help now,” said Irene, panting, sweat running down her forehead. She never perspired. Never. It was one of those miracles of Irene that no one could explain.

“Mama, we’re in the middle of a meeting. Can’t this wait?”

“No. No, it can’t wait. I’m not sure what’s happened, but, but, well, you just have to come and see for yourself. All of ‘ya. All of ‘ya!”

The men all looked at one another, realizing that they wouldn’t get any peace unless they followed Irene back to the main property. By the time they arrived in the grove, there were dozens of people standing around.

“What’s going on?” asked Gaspar.

“Son, I’m not sure,” said Matthew. “But something has happened, and we are about to be overwhelmed.”

“Overwhelmed with what, Pop?” Gaspar looked at all the men, then shook his head. If his mother was involved, there was no telling what the hell could be happening.

“Come with me,” said Matthew.

Gaspar followed his father, the others trailing behind him. As they reached the small iron fence, he pointed, and Gaspar just stared for a moment, unsure if he was actually seeing what he was seeing.

“Wh-who? Wh-what?”

“We don’t know, Gaspar. I think we need a team meeting, son.”

“Fucking hell.”

“Pops?” frowned Miller. “We don’t need a team meeting; we need a fucking exorcism. Those are ghosts, Pops. Hundreds of ghosts.”

“Well, now, they are ghosts, to be sure. But some of them are just lost and need to go home. I can help them with that, and so can your mother. But it’s the others that need your help.”

“Our help?” frowned Miller. “Pops, I can see them and speak to them. That’s about the extent of my ghostly capabilities. How in the hell can I help them.”

“By listening,” said Matthew. He casually walked through the iron gates of the family cemetery and shook his head. Ghostly figures were yelling at them, crying. “Gaspar? Make sure Noah and Julia stay away. This will kill them.”

Gaspar sent a fast text telling the two not to come near the cemetery. He turned around, shaking his head at the spectacle before them. There were ghosts that looked young, some that looked old, others in between. There were Native Americans, Africans, whites, and everything in between. If he was seeing things correctly, there was a prehistoric man or woman; he wasn’t sure. There were men, women, even a few children.

“Mama? Mama, where are you?” he yelled.

“I see,” said Irene, nodding her head at the beautiful woman. She was maybe in her early twenties, dressed in a classic ballgown of the 1700s. “I know. I know it must be terrible.”

“Mama,” said Gaspar. He turned to the woman with a slight head bow, trying to be respectful of the dead. Or alive. Or whatever they were. “Mama. What the hell is this?”

“Lilliana, this is my son, Gaspar Robicheaux. Gaspar, this is Lilliana Marceneaux.”

“Ma’am,” he nodded, then cursed himself for it. “Mama, what is this?”

“Well, now, I was trying to help someone out, and something went amiss. I musta said some powerful words because the next thing I knew, well, all this was here.”

“All this? All this, Mama? There are a hundred or more ghosts in the family cemetery. Did you bring these people back to life?” he yelled.

“Gaspar, mind your manners, son. I know you’re upset, but your mother and I can handle this.”

“You can handle it?” he asked with a raised brow. “Pops, no disrespect intended, but how in the fuck will you handle this? And what is it you thought I could help with?”

“Well, now, see, that’s the interesting thing,” smiled Irene. “Lilliana here, she attended a ball on this very property long before it was Belle Fleur. She says the house was much smaller, the gardens not as beautiful.” Gaspar let out a long, slow breath, rubbing his forehead with the heel of his hand.

“Mama, I’m begging you. Get to it.”

“I am, I am! Mr. Impatient. I swear,” she huffed. “She was here attending a ball, supposedly to meet her future husband. Next thing she knows, she had a powerful headache and was dead.”

“Dead? She was murdered?”

“That’s what you need to find out,” said Irene.

“You cannot be serious, Mama. These people, most of them have been dead decades, centuries, hell, that guy looks like a Neanderthal! Where am I supposed to find witnesses, Mama? They’re all dead!” he yelled.

The entire cemetery went quiet, and Gaspar’s chest rose and fell with his heavy breathing. Miller, Antoine, Luc, Nine, Trak, and Wilson walked toward Gaspar.

“You are right,” nodded Irene. “They are dead. And most I can help to return to their resting place. But those who have unresolved deaths are stuck between the two worlds until we help them. They have no choice. All I’m asking is that you help me to figure out who needs your help, and who needs my help.”

“I just want to be clear about something,” said Nine. “Are you telling us that you brought all these people back to life, above ground? You did that?”

“Not back to life, no. I was searching for potential mates for Marcel. Mates who were already on our property and just hadn’t shown themselves. He’s lonely. I musta said something wrong.”

“I think that’s obvious, Mama,” said Antoine. He felt an icy touch on his fingertips and looked down to see a beautiful dark-haired child. She had enormous blue eyes and dark brown hair, her pretty white nightgown flowing around her.

“Mister? Mister, can you help me find my mama and daddy?”

“Damn,” muttered Antoine, looking down at the child. “What’s your name, honey?”

“Helene Brownsville.”

“Helene, how old are you? Were you?” he frowned.

“Five. I died. I remember that ‘cause I was real sick. We all were,” she said with a sad smile. Antoine looked around the property, finally seeing the ghost he wanted.

“Claudette!” he yelled, waving her over. The little girl’s eyes went wide as she stared at the familiar face.

“Miss Claudette!”

“Helene? Why are you here?” she asked.

“I don’t know. Can you help me find my mommy and daddy?”

“Claudette, do you know her?” asked Antoine.

“Yes. Her family lived where Remy and Robbie’s parents built their home. When my family became sick, so did hers. Helene died before me, then it was her parents.”

“Where are they buried?” asked Antoine.

“They should have been buried here or near the other house,” said Claudette. “I can take her to the other property and see if her parents are there waiting for her. They might not be able to cross the barrier here.”

“Wait, some of them can’t leave the cemetery?” he asked.

“Most can’t if this is where their final resting place was. The only ones who could, would be those who have a reason to still be here or who weren’t given a proper burial. An unexplained death or something like that might allow someone to walk freely,” said Irene.

“I’ll take Helene,” smiled Claudette. She disappeared with the little girl, and Antoine stared at the chaos around them.

“What a fucking mess,” frowned Ghost. “How do we handle this?”

“I think it would be wise to begin taking statements,” said Trak casually. They all turned, staring at him. He just shrugged. “Find out who needs our help, and we’ll go from there.”

“Irene, please tell me that we don’t have to try and figure out how that caveman died?” said Nine.

“No,” she chuckled. “I believe I can help him. You boys try to figure out the rest of them.”

“Mama? This isn’t over,” said Gaspar. “I want explanations.”

Irene nodded, walking away from the men still standing in shock. Ian smirked at them all, shaking his head.

“Well, let’s get to it.”