Chapter Thirty

thirty

FINDING THE PAGE WASN'T THE triumph Jemma needed it to be, as it was written in French. With Laurence dead, she had no one to quickly translate it for her.

"Any of us could die at any time," she wailed to Magdalene. "I don't have time to figure this out."

"Maybe you don't have to. You can ask the spirits. I'm sure they got the answer for you."

"They talk in riddles sometimes."

"Do you really listen to them, though? Or does that scared part keep you from hearing everything they got to say?"

Despite overcoming much of her fear, Jemma knew her friend was right. She didn't allow herself to hear everything the spirits were trying to say. Whoever had torn the page from the ledger did so for a reason. Knowing the Duchons the way Jemma did, she knew it had to be because they had something to hide.

Another secret.

She looked out the window at the dark sky. If she was going to act, it had to be soon.

It had to be now.

"You're right," she said to Magdalene. "I'm going out there and I'm going to listen, really listen."

Jemma slipped outside and headed to the Duchon house, sticking to the bushes along the side of the back lawn. No lights shone from inside, so after she'd fled earlier, the family must have returned to bed. Taking several relieved breaths, she called Adam's name, and was surprised when he appeared at once.

"You gave me the missing ledger page," she said.

He nodded.

"I can't read it. Can you tell me what it says?"

"No. But I can show you."

Ice sliced along Jemma's arms at what he meant. He held out a hand, waiting. Fright wriggled in her chest, but Jemma closed her eyes and imagined it melting away.

Don't be scared. You need the truth.

Jemma reached for his hand, only to feel a hard chill. There was nothing solid there. The cold worked its way up her arm and across her body. It was as if she were enclosed in invisible ice.

"Open," Adam breathed.

Jemma hesitated.

And then obeyed.

—

SHE STOOD IN THE PARLOR of the Duchon house, but not in 1963, made evident by the freshly painted walls free of cracks, the pristine furnishings and the clothes the man at the desk wore. It was also obvious that he couldn't see Jemma, standing a few feet away.

Jemma looked around for Adam, but for now it was only her and the man. When he raised his head from the book he wrote in, she saw it was Corentin. She'd passed his portrait along the stairway many times.

Adam entered the room, but not the Adam Jemma knew now. This was Adam when he'd been alive, and he, too, seemed unaware of Jemma's presence.

"You wanted to talk to me?" Corentin sat back in the hard chair, fixing Adam with an unfriendly stare.

"Yes, sir. Did you think over what I asked before, about letting me buy my freedom, sir?"

Corentin waved a hand in the air. "I did indeed think it over. And my answer today will be the same as my answer tomorrow and forever. No."

"But, master—don't be angry now, but please—can I speak a little more?"

"Go on." Corentin turned his attention back to the book, which Jemma could now see was the gray ledger.

"I been working on Sundays like you give me permission for. Working as a carpenter for different families, and I been saving that money. It's enough for me to buy my freedom."

"The price has gone up, Adam."

The look of distress on Adam's face reached Jemma through the years.

"Excuse me, master?"

Corentin looked up then, cruelty distorting his pleasant features. "I said the price has gone up. You first asked me about buying your freedom two years ago. Prices have gone up since then. You'll need an additional three hundred dollars."

It might as well be a million, Jemma thought.

"You're dismissed," Corentin said.

Adam crumpled his hat in his hands but didn't move.

"I'll tell," he whispered.

"What?"

"I'll tell everyone what I know. What I heard Mr.Arthur say one time when he was drunk. He's white, but you ain't."

Corentin rose from his seat, blue eyes blazing. "You're trying to blackmail me?"

A jerk in Jemma's middle snatched her from the scene. She had only a second to begin to wonder if she was returning to the present before her feet settled on grass, the Duchon house looming over her in the night.

"You want to tell secrets, do you? You want your freedom? You'll be free, free to burn in hell. After you burn on Earth."

Next to Jemma, Corentin threw a lit lantern into the old kitchen window. Flames erupted and grew within moments, reaching to the ceiling.

Shouts came from inside, just as Jemma screamed.

"Who's in there?" Corentin demanded, his voice quavering. "Who's with Adam?"

Corentin's face blanched as more shrieks reached through the window. It was then that Jemma saw the bar on the outside of the door, trapping whoever was inside.

"Master!"

Jemma reached out her arms, wanting to help the people burning to death. Corentin stood next to her, eyes horrified but mouth and feet set.

She was pulled again, back into the parlor, Corentin scribbling in the ledger. This time she stood behind him. Over his shoulder, she read his latest entry. Although it was written in French, she understood it perfectly.

The kitchen was destroyed in the fire, and there was much damage to the dining room and the parlor, but those rooms were nonetheless salvaged. The slaves who were trapped there all perished, seven in all. All that money lost! All that property destroyed! Adam among them, Adam who threatened to ruin me. So I watched as the heavy beam blocked the slaves' way out, the other exit also sealed. I listened to their screams, which I still hear when I lie in bed at night. I know it is because of where they rest, which is not a rest at all when it is in the same place where they died.

However, I will stop this madness going forward. I am an old man, but my son Nicolas can have a future as one of the gens de couleur libres in this city. Only after I am dead will they know that his father was a coward who lived his life as a white gentleman instead of as the bastard that he was. I will not have my secret hang like a dark cloud over his head for the rest of his life. Whatever the outcome of this cursed war, my son and any descendants who follow after him will live as free colored people. They will not have to masquerade as something they are not, as I have done all these years.

Another jerk into a familiar room.

A young Inès lay in bed, sweaty faced and exhausted. Magdalene sat next to her, cradling a newborn in a blanket.

Honorine approached from her place in the corner, looking down at the baby.

"It's dark."

"Maman, please," Inès panted. "Her name is Emmaline."

"Get rid of it."

As Jemma stood rooted in place, unable to get a glimpse of her newly born self, shouting began between Magdalene and Honorine, between Inès and her mother.

"Your man isn't coming back. We sent him away!" Simone said.

Jemma began to shake, knowing what was coming next.

Adam appeared, as the one who worked with her mother all those years ago.

It was clear that Inès saw him. As he talked to her, a ghoulish smile spread across her face.

"I curse all the Duchon blood. From this day forth, I bind the family to this house. I bind them forever."

As Inès shut her eyes in a seeming faint, Adam disappeared. Hazy outlines shimmering with malevolence appeared around Honorine, Simone, Inès and infant Jemma.

She somehow knew that those same lines were enveloping Russell, Fosette, Laurence and all the other Duchons who lived in the house, tethering them to the property.

Another man appeared, one no one could see except Jemma.

He approached the bed, gazing down at Inès and at the baby in Magdalene's arms. His dark brown skin glowed, his deep eyes shining with love.

"Not you," he whispered to the newborn Jemma. "Not like this."

The shimmering outline around the baby vanished. He moved toward Inès, and Adam reappeared.

"One," Adam said. "You only get one."

And then Jemma's father was gone.

Adam leaned down and whispered to the infant, "Your blood still ties you to death."

Jemma was jerked to the present. Adam hovered next to her.

"Why did my brother die? Was it the curse? Why wasn't it on my birthday?"

"When she broke her curse, she broke the tie between us."

The next thing Jemma knew, she was stumbling into Magdalene's cabin, her face wet with tears, her body shaking.

"I…I know what happened. Why the kitchen was moved…why they rebuilt. Why I was able to leave here." She looked up at Magdalene, sobbing. "And who I have to free."