*trigger warning* This chapter contains dark themes and subjects that may be triggering for some.
"Power resides only where men believe it resides. [...] A shadow on the wall, yet shadows can kill. And ofttimes a very small man can cast a very large shadow."
― George R. R. Martin, A Clash of Kings—
The murky swamp gleamed as the dim flashing lights of red and blue peaked through the shady canopy of the forest. No birds chirped, nor forest creatures scurried about—it was quiet—too quiet. Thick near-dead looking trees lined the bog, creaking and cracking as they swayed in time with the titubation of the watery murkiness. Steam rose slowly from the dank dark waters of the bog bubbling thickly, like gravy on the boil—mixing and swirling with the surroundings, making the trail the officers were on hard to see and even harder to navigate. The dim glow of their flashlights clashed against the otherworldly soft glow of the green swamp gas and, combined, was their only source of light against the otherwise darkness of the abnormally quiet forest. Though not in the least bit magical, they could feel it—an ominous energy shrouded the otherwise peaceful area.
Unable to shake his feelings of unease, he aimed his flashlight towards the swamp, once there was a break in the fog, and gasped. In all his years on the force, the detective had never seen anything like what laid before him—fish, small turtles and other swamp creatures, floated upon the surface of the water belly up. It had to be hundreds of them. All belly up with unseeing eyes and open mouths—all dead. It was like something out of a biblical horror movie. Swinging his flashlight around to the trail before him, he focused his mind on the reason he was in this part of the forest before the crack of dawn—the crime scene. Though he should not have been surprised when the department received a call from a frantic jogger, he had.
Couturie forest was usually a nice family friendly place. Situated on 60 acres, the forest possessed mile long trails, natural waterways and several varieties of birds; offering an escape from the big city for any, and all, nature loving citizens.
However, because of those same amenities it also made Couturie the prime place for the reason detective Kinney and the NOPD were now traipsing around one of its many bogs—it was the perfect location to commit a crime. And from the report he would be walking into something utterly and unfathomably gruesome.
The narrow trail flanked by shallow swamp on either side forced them all to walk nearly single file and though apprehensive of what laid now just beyond the quickly ending trail, Kinney schooled his features with practiced ease to show nothing of his thoughts.
The sun began to crest and the once eerily green swamp gas began to thin—flashlights were no longer a necessity. Up a head Kinney could make out the bright yellow tape that signified the reason he was here. Sighing, he took a moment to slow his step and in an attempt to stall the inevitable looked down at his clothing. His dark slacks clung to his long lean legs—sticky from the dampness of the bog. He didn't need to see his button up to know that it had suffered the same fate, he could feel it clinging to his skin. Nonchalantly, he made his way to the scene and nearly gagged.
It was the smell that hit him first. Hard and sharply it punched straight and true. Hitting him right in the deepest part of his nostrils until he felt the putrid aroma in the back of his throat. Though the smell itself was not unfamiliar to him the strength of it was and for a moment he wondered if that must have been what the battlefields must have smelled like. Death-sharp and unforgiving mixed with the muskiness of the bog, the earthiness of the dampened forest floor and the beginnings of wood rot. It was unpleasantly heady and he fought with his body's natural reflex to hunch over and heave out whatever was in his stomach.
Once assured that he would remain upright, he slowly forced himself to take a step forward. Then another. And another. Until he was in front of the source of the horrific scent—it was a tree. An enormous tree, he wondered if it was perhaps some sort of willow. It had a hollowed-out center, almost tunnel like in appearance and it loomed in front of him foreboding. The ground around it was stained in pools of a deep muddy red that trailed in small puddles to the trees opening. The tree's bark had been purposely scorched with etchings. Sigils—he remembered from a previous conversation with Vincent about similar etchings. Crystals laid haphazardly near its base along with two grainy substances. One he could identify as salt while the other was not something he recognized, but instantly understood that he should be cautious nonetheless. Deciding against entering the tree's tunnel and advising the other officers against as well, he took out his flashlight and shined it inside the dark depths. A young officer that had only been on the force for about a year or two pushed past the others and emptied the contents of his stomach in the bog—screaming when he met the lifeless eyes of a swamp turtle floating belly up just beneath the algae of the bog.
Taking out his phone Detective Kinney called a familiar number waiting until the line picked up.
Taking a deep breath before instantly regretting such action, he sighed, "I need you to get down here to Couturie forest. Now." His eyes trailed back to the hollow tree as his mind supplied him with the images—bones and body parts with missing flesh filled the tree to its brim.
Definitely human and all much too small to be adult.
"I think we found the missing children—or rather, what's left of them."
"Setti are you sure she said Reapa Man?" Asked Bianca timidly. She gathered every bit of courage she held within her. Determined to be the one to lead this particular conversation. She knew that Fe's still fragile psyche depended on her taking control of this moment. Having unpleasant conversations like the one about to take place were usually better left to Fe`, who has always been the emotionally stronger one of the two, but there was one topic that could send him spiraling—and that was the topic just brought up.
Though, she couldn't blame Setti—she didn't know. Everyone had purposely kept the information from her, but it seemed that MeMaw had determined it was time. Smiling bitterly, when Setti nodded her head, Bianca took another deep breath.
"Don't call his punk ass that," Fe` bit out. "That's what his disciples call him but trust, that ain't his name."
Giving her cousin a comforting pat on the shoulder Bianca's grey eyes shone with unshed tears. Fe` sighed, taking the unspoken invitation for comfort and shifting his tall frame until his head laid upon the bed. Bianca also took a seat on the bed and absently began to run her fingers through Fe's hair. Setti also sensing her cousin's distress ran soothing circles across his back. Whatever that was about to be told to her had obviously upset them both but it seemed Fe` was upset the most.
"His name was Aristides," Bianca began softly. "And he was a monster. There are many types of monsters in this world Setti—many kinds in our world."
Stopping, she glanced down at Fe` watching as he nodded his head to her unspoken question before continuing. "He is the absolute worst kind," she finished.
Lifting his head, Fe` wiped at the tears that had gathered in the corners of his cinnamon eyes and replaced them with a look of resolve. There were no coincidences and, like Bianca, he knew that it was time to tell Arsetti the sad and gruesome truth that the LeRouxs have kept secret for far too long.
"Aristides killed your momma baby girl," he explained softly.
"Well, it's a bit more complicated than that," added Bianca thoughtfully. "When Lucinda died, Aristides had already been dead for decades."
"But decades don't mean shit to someone hellbent on revenge. Not death either. Aristides was more than just a monster, baby. He—was family. Aristides-Banifacio LeRoux is his full name and he was our not-so great-great uncle," began Fe` in a voice much more steady than he felt.
"He was MeMaw's depraved jealous ass brother and to the day he died he was determined to do two things: break the soul of anybody with even a little bit of light in them, and to take everything away from his sister—including her crown. And in the end, it was those two things that caused him to meet his end. The day Aristides-Banifacio LeRoux died was the same day that the Reapa Man rose. We can lived for hundreds of years but a vengeful soul can torment and cause mischief for all eternity. Guess MeMaw ain't expect him to be so dead set on it that he was able to transcend that Hell garden she sucked his ass into."
"Wait," interrupted Setti perplexed, "MeMaw took the soul of her own brother? Holy shit, is that why she warned me in her letter in the Grand Grimoire?"
"What else was she supposed to do, Setti?" Fe` huffed, "you know damn well we hard to kill. Hell, my heart was removed from my chest and the only thing that happened was I went into a coma, till auntie found it and put it back."
At the mentioned of her mother, Setti found her mind flooded with the images of her dream. The bones, the barren New Orleans' streets—her mother, and what must have been her last moments.
"MeMaw showed me momma's last moments," she whispered near tears and began to explain her dream to them in a rush. If it had been in hope that saying it that way would make the pain of it less or she just couldn't stop the words from spilling fourth in such a manor, Arsetti was unsure. However, her mind missed no detail as it replayed each scene and the words to describe it spilled from her lips. Once she was done, she watched them both carefully—and to her utter confusion, neither looked shocked nor surprised.
"No coincidences," sighed Fe` pulling his lean frame up until he sat next to Setti. Wordlessly, she reached out and pulled him into a side hugged—and both found themselves wrapped in the comforting embrace of Bianca, who had seated herself on the other side of the bed.
"Our family may be much older then most but it doesn't mean its without its own dark history," she began in a soft yet soothing voice. "MeMaw could never prove it and at the moment I can't either—but—" pausing Bianca sighed deep and painfully. What she was about to reveal tore at her deeply but she knew she had to share her suspicions with the only people left she knew she could trust. She had once shared it with her grandma and though met with a kind face and understanding eyes, Bianca felt that MeMaw had only put in a half effort to find out if her suspicions held truth. At the time, she understood. Who wouldn't have? Her daughter had just been brutally killed. A daughter from a family that is nearly impossible to kill. Who's lifespan exceeds that of normal mortals had just had one of theirs snatched away in the prime of her life. She couldn't blame her if she tried, but now was the time to once again speak the thoughts that she had before.
And this time she knew the outcome would yield fruit.
"I think it was my dad," she whispered almost brokenly.
Then before she could change her mind rushed to finish her thoughts. "Well, not my dad—but Aristides possessing my dad. We all know that he had to possess someone in order for Lucinda to actually die. No one knew how to perform that kind of magic but him. We know that and we know that when his disciples brought him back it was in a host's body. "
"No one can house a LeRoux soul but a LeRoux," finished Fe` with the remembered words of a conversation he had tried for years to block out. Shaking his head in disbelief, it all seemed to make sense.
"I doubt it's a coincidence that right when children begin to go missing, MeMaw shows Setti children's bones and auntie's last moments," speculated Bianca further, then like lightning striking ocean dampened sand, it hit her. "What if the ultimate goal is to come back as flesh and bone? If he was able to possess my dad back then who's to say he can't now—or isn't already? Children are missing which means that like the last time he will use their untapped magic to fuel his vendetta. Setti's Queen now and that means..."
What ever else she had been about to say was cut off with the blaring of Fe's cell. Apologetically, he pulled it from his pocket intent to silence the device for the sake of finishing this conversation. Yet, the name on the screen cause him to pause. Instead, he answered and as the words of the person on the other end of the receiver penetrated his mind—dread filled him to the brim.
"Oh, God," whispered as his hand flew to cover his mouth in disbelief or revulsion, he was unsure.