It was an ordinary day, but she should have known her ordinary days were numbered. There was nothing ordinary about Solange Deveaux, though she'd tried to create the illusion of the mundane. She'd tried. But how did one live a normal life when one's very essence was intrinsically tied to a chunk of granite hidden in the belly of the Earth?
Solange tugged weeds from the rose garden behind the manor house, her long skirts protected from the soil by the swatch of old fabric on which she knelt, just as her soft-skinned hands were protected by the gloves she wore. Nothing, though, could protect her from what she was. Not the happy home she'd made, not the precious little boy running and playing in the backyard, not even Jonathon.
By the gods, how she loved that man.
And she'd never told him. Not in the seven years they'd been living in marital bliss. She'd hoped she would never have to.
But now...
She felt it, all at once, and her hands stilled, gripping a stubborn weed as she lifted her head and looked around. There was something a chill in the air. A static energy that crackled and sparked. A feeling of evil. The very ground beneath her began to tremble. In the distance, she heard a voice calling her name.
Solange, come. Come to me.
"No " she whispered. She didn't know whose voice it was, though it seemed deep and vaguely familiar. She only knew it was something otherworldly, supernatural. She was through with all of that.
The ground shook harder, still harder, and beneath her hands it cracked the very earth splitting as a fissure opened in its surface. A window exploded above her, raining a shower of shattered glass down on her head.
"Mommy!"
Her little boy raced toward her even as she ran to gather him into her arms. She hugged him against her skirts, leaving soil handprints on his shoulders. An ice-cold wind like the very breath of evil unnatural and foul, plunged the temperature downward so fast she could see her breath as she hustled her child up the back steps and into the house. She kept hold of him, running through the back door and the kitchens, into the parlor where she came to a sudden halt as that voice came again.
Come to me, Solange. Do as I say! I have the Stone!
Her heart contracted in her chest. This dark presence had the Stone? What if he destroyed it? What would become of her then? She thought she knew her fate was bound to that stone. But she didn't want to think about that, not now.
The earth shook harder, and another window shattered.
I have the power to take all you have. Your precious Jonathon. Your little boy.
"Never!" she shouted, hugging Bobby closer.
"Mamma?"
She looked down into the trusting eyes of her son, aware he couldn't hear the voice that she heard. Nor was he likely sensing the evil that chilled the very air. He was a boy. The power of her line passed only to daughters.
Pasting a reassuring smile onto her face, she knelt in front of her child. "It's nothing, Bobby. Only a passing storm. Go now, go on up to your bedroom and work on your lessons."
"But what's happening, Mamma?"
"It's only a storm, love. Only a storm. Go now. Pappa will be home soon."
The cherub-faced child seemed reassured by her confident tone, her genuine-looking smile, her promise that his beloved father would soon return. How Bobby loved him.
She walked him up the stairs to his room, but as soon as he was safely behind its closed door, she rushed ahead, wrenching open the door at the end of the hall and starting up its dusty, dark stairway.
I'll destroy this entire city unless you obey me, Solange! I'll destroy you!
So frightened her entire body trembled, Solange continued up the stairs. Her hand ran along the wall beside her as she moved, until she felt the candleholder there, a taper at the ready, a match sticking out of its base, for easy access. She tugged the match loose, struck it on the wall, lit the candle and let its light guide her up the stairs. Something was tugging her, pulling her. There was no question in her mind that she needed to open the trunk she'd vowed she would never open again. And even with that she knew it might well be too late.
Her charge was to keep the power alive, to keep the Stone safe. If it were destroyed while under her protection, her link to her ancestral power would end. And maybe...maybe even her life. That was the bargain her ancestors had made. She'd never thought anyone would find the Stone, with or without her magical help.
Crossing the attic toward its darkest corner, she moved aside boxes, tugged off the old sheet that covered the trunk, knelt beside it, and felt for the key tucked into the hidden compartment beneath one of the hinges.
When she had the trunk open, she felt a rush of power, one she hadn't felt in years. Whispers seemed to waft from that box, voices from the past, women's voices. She felt their breath rushing past her face as she reached inside and removed the tools of the woman she had once been. She was the only living female of her line. And she had turned her back on her calling. Her duty.
Now, though...now something threatened her family. She had to reclaim her power.
She removed the items one by one, then spread the altar cloth over the flat top of the trunk. Then she laid out the tools. The cauldron and chalice, the scrying mirror, the double-edged dagger, the censer. One by one she placed them in their proper positions. Then opened the drawstring pouch and cast the cowrie's shells and interpreted the message revealed in the way they fell.
Disaster. A day of reckoning. A curse to come. An evil that must be stopped. A call to action that could not be avoided.
Shaking her head, wishing for a way around the inevitable, she whispered, "And what if I refuse?" She gathered the stones, and cast them again.
The death of a child.
"Please, not that," she whispered. "What must I do? Tell me, please, what must I do?"
>
Swallowing her fear, and determined to find answers to her desperate question, Solange moved the candle aside, swept the shells from the surface of the trunk and focused on the scrying mirror. She gazed into its polished black surface and hoped her skills had not fled with the years of disuse. She let her eyes relax until her vision was an unfocused blur. Her mind went blank, and her muscles limp. The breaths moved in and out of her lungs so slowly and softly that there was no line of demarcation between inhale and exhale. They rolled and receded gently, like waves over the shore.
And the glass clouded. And the faces of her ancestors appeared in the mists.
"Mothers of my mothers, grandmothers of my grandmothers, tell me what I must know," she intoned.
The voices came, whispers, breaths, overlapping one another like a gathering of breezes, but gradually, they melded and became one. One voice, made up of many.
Our powers pass to the women of our line, Solange. They have from time immemorial. Always, there has been one carrying the power in each generation. And protecting its source. You chose to live as an ordinary woman. Tried to turn your back on your calling. You took for granted that the Stone of Power would remain hidden, safe, and you chose love over magic and duty because of fear! You let fear rule you! But, Solange, you cannot change what you are. You are needed now. It's time to put the fear aside and take back your power.
She shook her head slowly. "I don't understand."
Your lack of attention to your calling allowed the shields of protection to weaken, daughter. And now the Stone of Power has fallen into evil hands.
"I never thought anyone would find it, buried in stone, in the wall of that cave. How could anyone find it?"
Swallowing her fear, and determined to find answers to her desperate question, Solange moved the candle aside, swept the shells from the surface of the trunk and focused on the scrying mirror. She gazed into its polished black surface and hoped her skills had not fled with the years of disuse. She let her eyes relax until her vision was an unfocused blur. Her mind went blank, and her muscles limp. The breaths moved in and out of her lungs so slowly and softly that there was no line of demarcation between inhale and exhale. They rolled and receded gently, like waves over the shore.
And the glass clouded. And the faces of her ancestors appeared in the mists.
"Mothers of my mothers, grandmothers of my grandmothers, tell me what I must know," she intoned.
The voices came, whispers, breaths, overlapping one another like a gathering of breezes, but gradually, they melded and became one. One voice, made up of many.
Our powers pass to the women of our line, Solange. They have from time immemorial. Always, there has been one carrying the power in each generation. And protecting its source. You chose to live as an ordinary woman. Tried to turn your back on your calling. You took for granted that the Stone of Power would remain hidden, safe, and you chose love over magic and duty because of fear! You let fear rule you! But, Solange, you cannot change what you are. You are needed now. It's time to put the fear aside and take back your power.
She shook her head slowly. "I don't understand."
Your lack of attention to your calling allowed the shields of protection to weaken, daughter. And now the Stone of Power has fallen into evil hands.
"I never thought anyone would find it, buried in stone, in the wall of that cave. How could anyone find it?"
The daily rituals and magic the women of our line have always performed so faithfully, the prayers and offerings, the very act of being a witch and being alive to act as the Stone's guardian, all these things added to the mystical shields we placed around the Stone of Power generations ago. But you failed in your duties, turned your back on magic, and so the shields weakened. He sensed it and now he has taken it. And he will use its power only to further his own.
"Who?"
Darien.
Solange knew the name. The black sheep of a magical family, he'd loved her since she was a small child. He'd known of her calling, her legacy, though, and she'd been certain it was her power that drew him. His hunger for it, his desire to make it his own. Darien had never had the best interests of the whole in his heart. In his heart, there was only room for the best interests of Darien himself. He'd been furious when she'd married Jonathon.
"But," she said, speaking her thoughts aloud, "he's only a man."
Not anymore, the voices said. He used his knowledge of magic to grow in power. Even as the protective barriers placed around the Stone were weakening, Darien was getting stronger. And he never stopped searching for the Stone. When the shields grew weak enough, he sensed it and went to the cave to dig it out. And now it is in his hands.
She could hear the unnatural roar of the quaking earth outside, feel the deep chill penetrating her house. She thought she would need to kindle the hearths soon unheard of in midsummer. Beyond the house, flashes streaked across the sky. Not lightning...no, more like falling stars, or flaming meteors raining down on the Earth.
"What can he do with the Stone?"
Bind his energy to its energy, just as our ancestors did. Who knows of the results in one so evil? Our goal was always the greater good, the well-being of our line and our community and the planet. But in him immortality and ultimate power are his goals. It may be that he will achieve them with the power of the Stone.
"He's been calling to me. He wants me to come to him."
Possessing you is another of his goals, along with untold wealth and limitless influence. He's a madman, Solange. A madman.
"He threatened my child," she whispered.
Of course he did. It would be in his best interests to see to it that our line ends with you, Solange. For he knows we are the only ones who can defeat him. Your child is in danger; he will attempt to harm Bobby, whether you obey his commands or not.
"If the Stone is destroyed, we'll end anyway."
No, Solange. You are bound to the Stone, as were your ancestors before you. Your essence is tied to its power, and because you've given in to fear for so long, you've let both the Stone's protection and your own grow weak. Because of this, you may well end your mortal lifetime with the Stone's destruction.
Solange felt the truth of those words like blades of ice in her soul.
But your line would not end. Nor would the magical skills passed on naturally through its bloodline. The only thing that would end is our family's link to the power of the Stone a gift and a charge we have treated with honor and reverence for generations upon generations.
She nodded slowly, closing her eyes. "I'm sorry. I...let you all down." Swallowing hard and lifting her head again, she said, "Tell me what I have to do to save the lives of my son and the generations to come."
Then she listened as the voices spoke to her.
"I thought I'd find you here."
The sound of her beloved husband's voice was like a balm to Solange's frayed nerves. She rose quickly, turning in hopes of blocking her altar from Jonathon's sight with her skirts. "I...I was only..."
He stopped her attempted explanation by pulling her into his arms. "Don't, my love. Don't try to explain. Not now. By God, woman, have you any idea what's happening out there?"
She closed her eyes, relishing the feel of his arms around her. "This unnatural storm, you mean?"
"Storm? It's no storm, Solange. There have been earthquakes. Meteors are pounding the French Quarter. The entire city is ablaze!"
She closed her eyes, wondering at the extent of Darien's power.
"You have to do something, my love," he whispered.
Slowly, Solange lifted her head, searched her husband's deep brown eyes. She saw what they held: pure love for her. "What do you mean?" she whispered, terrified of his answer.
"Did you think I'd never heard the rumors, the gossip about the women of your line?"
She pulled free of his embrace, her eyes widening. "Gossip? What are you talking about, Jonathon?"
"I know, Solange. I've always known."
"You knew?" she whispered.
"You chose not to share that part of yourself with me, and I've tried to respect that. But now...now everything's changed. Everything. My God, there is destruction raining down on New Orleans from the skies. People are panicking, rioting. Some have already died."
She shielded her eyes. He knew, he knew what she was. But did he realize what it meant? He couldn't or he would be turning away from her already, she thought. "It's only a quirk of nature," she said. "It will surely pass ."
"The air is alive with static. The ground is quaking, Solange, and every witch and priest and voudon in New Orleans has taken to the streets, all of them asking the same questions 'What's happened? What can we do?' And when they see me there, they run to me, their faces desperate as they ask me, 'Where is Solange? Why isn't she doing something?'" He held her shoulders firmly, refusing to let her turn away. "The diviners on Rue Royale say that our son is in grave danger, Solange. Is it true?"
"I...I don't know," she said, aware now that there was no use in continuing to deny what she was to him. He knew her face. He wouldn't let her deceive him. Gathering her courage, she admitted, "The black mirror says he could be."
"And is there something you can do?"
She lowered her head. "Perhaps."
"Then for the love of God, do it."
Whirling away from him, Solange paced the attic floor, her skirts swishing about her legs. "You don't understand, Jonathon. This is not a mantle I can take up briefly. Once I make the decision, my life is no longer my own. I will be committed to serve the gods and the greater good, no matter what is asked of me. You our child our life together will no longer be my only, sometimes not even my primary focus. That's the calling of my line, Jonathon. It's all or nothing. That's why I gave it up. I knew you could never accept, nor did you deserve, a wife with such split loyalties."
He stared at her for a long moment, holding her eyes, his own so full of love she ached upon seeing it. She could feel its touch.
"How could you have thought I would love you any less?"
Shock rinsed through her body.
"Solange, I thought you didn't want this...this witchery in your life. I had no idea you were living in denial of a sacred calling because of me."
"Not because of you. For you. And our child."
"But you've denied your true self."
"I've been perfectly happy, Jonathon."
"But incomplete, Solange. Living half a life, and thinking we would turn away from you otherwise. So we, Bobby and I, have been denied as well. We've been denied the chance to know the rest of you."
Tears burned in her eyes. She could not believe what she was hearing. But before she could even begin to process what it meant, he was speaking again.
"If you do not take up this mantle? If you continue to deny what you call your calling, what then, Solange?" He looked beyond her, at the mirror and tools on her makeshift altar. "What do your shells and your mirror tell you will happen then?"
She lowered her head. "Disaster. The death of a child. And perhaps...the end of all that is."
Nodding slowly, Jonathon snapped his arms around her and pulled her tight to his chest. He lowered his head, kissed her hair. "Then I don't see that you have much choice. You have to do this, Solange. For the future of our child, for the future of...of everyone."
She closed her eyes, knowing he spoke the truth. "I love you, my Jonathon," she whispered, clinging to him.
"I know. And I love you. And always will, Solange. No matter what."
"I'm so sorry I ever doubted that." She let the hot tears flow, not telling him the things it would do him only harm to know. It was too late. It was too late now. God, she'd been so wrong. "Take Bobby away from here, my love. Take him to your sister in LaFayette. He'll be safe there."
He shook his head. "I won't leave you. No, Solange, I can help you. I want to stay, fight this thing by your side."
"If you were to be destroyed, or our son - I couldn't go on. And if you stay, that's a risk, Jonathon. Too great a risk. Do this for me. Take him. If you love me, take him and go." Licking her lips, she turned toward the trunk that held the symbols of her legacy. "I will stay here, and do what must be done."
He was silent for so long she thought he would refuse. But finally, he capitulated with a sigh. "Come then. We'll pack Bobby's things, and you can say goodbye."
She closed her eyes, the thought of saying good bye to her boy, and to her beloved husband, almost more than she could bear. Especially knowing it might be for the last time.
Solange stood in the depths of the cave where the Stone of Power had been hidden so long ago. It had been sealed in a wall of stone at the back of the cave. But now there was only a jagged hole in the smooth face of the rock there. And a large, empty space where the Stone of Power had been.
"So you came," he said from behind her. "I knew you would."
Solange turned slowly and faced the man who had once claimed to love her beyond all others. "You gave me no choice, Darien."
He surged forward, swept her into his arms, bent her backward and kissed her. Solange did not respond. She remained stiff and cold in his embrace, until, frustrated, he released her. "You will learn to love me in time."
"Never."
"Solange, think of it. I have the power now. I have the Stone. With you at my side, I could rule the world. We could have anything, everything. We could live forever!"
She held his gaze, shaking her head slowly. "You must give it back. Relinquish the Stone, Darien."
"Oh, no. No, you don't understand. You have two choices, Solange. Join me and we rule together. Or oppose me and die. And your son with you."
"You'll never harm my child."
"Won't I? Why, Solange, when I know full well he will sire daughters one day. Or granddaughters or great-granddaughters. The women of your line are the only power that threatens me. They could defeat me in time."
"They won't need to," she said softly. "I will defeat you. Here, today."
He smiled slowly. "For too long you've denied what you are. Your powers are weak, at best. No, Solange. You cannot hope to defeat me. And I think you know it."
She lifted her chin and raised her left arm high above her head.
"I part the mists and sands of time! Grandmothers, meld your power with mine!"
And she felt it, sure and familiar, the surge of power rinsing through her body, streaming into her hand from above. How she had missed it!
She held out her right hand, pointing it toward her enemy. And in a blast of power from her hand, Darien was flung backward. He hit the wall and sank to the floor. And even as he struggled to get upright again, she aimed a second blast his way.
But this time, he was ready. Darien reached for something, pulling it up and holding it in front of him like a shield, just as she attacked. The Stone of Power, she realized too late. The energy she sent forth hit it and rebounded, slamming into her chest so hard she smashed into the rock wall behind her.
And then he was standing over her, staring down at her, shaking his head. "Why would you want an ordinary man like Jonathon Deveaux when you can have me?" he asked.
Lifting her head weakly, she whispered, "I love him."
"You will never be with him," he promised. "Never again!" And as he said it, he lifted the Stone of Power high and began to chant. "In this life, and that to come, you and he shall walk alone, you by night and he by day. Between the worlds is where you'll stay! When you take this stone from me, the curse shall live, so mote it be!"
The Stone glowed as he spoke, and Solange felt its heat wafting over her. She felt the curse pouring out onto her, and she realized there was little she could do.
No, the voices of her ancestors cried. Fight! You must fight!
She closed her eyes, calling up every ounce of power she had ever possessed. She drew it up into her, from the earth beneath her, from the sky above, from the spirits of her ancestors, from the love of her husband, from the cries of all the magical people in New Orleans and, finally, from the bosom of her goddess her mother. The one she had abandoned years ago.
As always, the mother responded.
The power coursed through her, stiffening her body. A wind that was not a wind, but rather the very breath of all that was good, surged into the cave, wafting through her hair as she rose to her feet. Her skin glowed with power, and red-hot fire blazed in her eyes. She lifted her hands as Darien backed away, his eyes widening.
"Good always wins out over evil," she said, her voice proud and firm. "The Stone of Power is a force for good. Better it be destroyed than used for the cause of evil!"
So shall it be, then a voice whispered on the wind. But see to it you keep your word this time, despite the consequences!
A blast of white light sprung from her hands. Rather than reflecting it back at her, the Stone seemed to magnify the force this time, sending it squarely into Darien. His face twisted into an unnatural grimace, and in an instant, his hair turned shock white.
He froze that way, standing there, gripping the Stone of Power, and in another moment, Solange realized the texture of the Stone was spreading, into his hands, along his arms.
He was solidifying, turning into stone himself.
Solange stood in the cemetery, where the stone statue of a dark wizard had been placed, the Stone of Power still gripped in its frozen hands.
Surrounding her were the crypts of her ancestors. She'd had Darien placed in their midst, the better to keep him prisoner. But deep down, she knew even then, that it wasn't enough. So long as he held the Stone, he held the Power. He would find a way to use it, to return to life...unless...
"Unless I destroy the stone, as I promised I would," she whispered.
A hand closed on her shoulder. Her beloved Jonathon she knew his touch without looking, and turned to fling herself into his arms. He held her hard against him as she sobbed.
"It's all right, my love," he told her, his voice soothing, his hands stroking her jet hair. "Bobby is safe with my sister. And the streets of the French Quarter are calm once more." He cupped her face, staring down into her eyes. "You did it, my love. You made things all right again." He smiled at her. "Moreover, you became who you were meant to be, showed me your truest self. And I still love you, Solange."
Her heart broke more with every word he spoke. "I know. I should have known all along. But I was afraid." She shook her head sadly as she turned to gaze upon the statue. "I stopped him, darling, but only temporarily. He lives still. Look at him . Can't you see it? Sense it?"
Frowning, Jonathon stared at the statue. He said nothing, but she felt the shiver run through him.
"He holds the Stone of Power. If I take it from him, he'll remain frozen that way indefinitely. But if I don't..."
"He'll return," Jonathon said.
"I can't take the stone from him without breaking it, my love. And if I break it...there will be consequences."
He searched her face, his own etched in concern. "Tell me of these...consequences."
She nodded slightly. "For one thing, I will lose all hope of removing the curse he placed upon us before he became this statue."
"Curse?" Jonathon searched her eyes.
"But unless I destroy the stone, he'll return. And he'll destroy us anyway, and our son as well, to remove any threat to him."
"What is this curse, my love?" he asked, his eyes filling with tears, almost as if he already knew.
She blinked the tears from her eyes. "When the stone breaks apart, so shall we, Jonathon. And our spirits will be trapped here, earthbound, unable to move on. But worse, unable to be together. Your spirit will walk only by day. Mine only by night."
He gave his head a slow shake. "It can't be real."
"It is."
He held her against him, burying his face in her hair. "We'll have until death," he whispered. "We'll have that long. And in that time we'll find a way "
"The Stone is the source of power for the women of my line, Jonathon. My own essence is intricately bound to it. When the stone is destroyed the link to its power will end. But in my case, I believe my life will end as well."
He clutched her tighter. "I won't let you go."
"It's the price of turning my back on my calling, I think. I betrayed my ancestors, my goddess and myself. My own deeds are coming back to me now."
"Then this is...this is some divine punishment for some perceived crime? The crime of loving me? Loving your son?"
"No. It's not a punishment. The Threefold Law, Jonathon, is a law of nature, not a rule to be bent or broken. Everything we do, everything we are, everything we feel in life returns to us. Not as a judgment no more than rain falling to earth when a cloud becomes too heavy to contain it is a judgment. It is simply the way things work. I was so determined to walk alone apart from my calling, my forebears, my goddess. I planted the seeds myself, Jonathon, and now they are sprouting. Walking alone is the harvest I will reap."
"I can't bear to be without you."
"It won't be forever," she whispered. "I promise you, it won't be forever." Leaning up, she kissed him gently on the mouth.
Then she turned away, facing the Stone, and one last time, she called up the power.
It blasted from her hands. The Stone shattered, flying outward from the statue. Four pieces, sailing in four different directions. And the last hint of life from the statue blinked out.
As the power left her body, Solange felt the life leave with it. She sank to the ground, limp, every ounce of energy drained from her.
Jonathon knelt beside her, gathered her into his arms. "My love..."
"Four pieces," she whispered. "Four, then, is the number. When there are four women in my line, all alive at the same time, then and only then can this curse be broken, and Darien, defeated once and for all."
"I don't understand."
"You don't need to. Write it down, my love. Write down all that has happened here. See to it our descendants and theirs read our story." She took a breath, but it was difficult. "Until that day, you must take those four pieces to the farthest reaches of the four directions. Promise me you will do this!"
"I promise," he told her.
Nodding, she released her breath with a sigh. "Take care of our son, my love. For his is the key to the future for all of us. And know that I love you. I'll love you till the end of time."
Jonathon buried his beloved wife in her family crypt, though it killed him to leave her so near to that hideous statue. He thought about destroying the thing, but feared doing so might somehow release the evil inside.
That very day, he sat down, and wrote about the things his wife had asked him to, copying the tale into a journal for his son.
"Long ago, your grandmothers' grandmothers, women with deep knowledge of magic, were entrusted by forces as yet unnamed, as yet unknown, to act as guardians of the Stone of Power. The Stone contains great mystical force, and for it to fall into the wrong hands would prove disastrous. Globally, universally disastrous. And so it was decided that the Stone must be protected. Your ancestors were chosen to do this task. And they did so.
"The women of your bloodline hid the Stone deep within the wall of a cave and used magic to cover it with layers of ordinary rock. Daily, these women practiced the art of magic, growing ever stronger, ever more powerful and wise. And because they had formed a bond with the Stone, it grew more powerful as they did, and they grew more powerful as it did, and their very essences became intertwined. The daily rituals and prayers these women performed created a field of protection around the Stone, so that no magical practitioner would ever sense its presence or seek to use it for evil.
"And this continued, with the power and the responsibility going from woman to woman, from generation to generation until the time of Solange Deveaux.
"Solange fell in love, and she believed that meant she had to turn her back on the ways of magic, the ways of her ancestors. She wanted only an ordinary life with her husband and son. She thought they would not love her if she revealed her truest self to them. Solange gave fear more power than love. This was a mistake that would cost her dearly, cost all of us dearly.
"And it was a wasted effort, for her normal life was not to be. Because she turned her back on her calling, the field of protection around the stone weakened, and an evil wizard found it. He blasted it free of its prison and took its powers for his own, and with it, he began to wreak havoc on the world.
"The only way Solange could defeat him and prevent him from ending her bloodline by killing her child was to shatter the Stone of Power, and she did this, even knowing that such an act would lead to her death.
"But before she did, the wizard cursed her even after death she would find no peace, for she and the man she loved would not move on to the afterlife but would instead remain trapped between the worlds, where she would walk only by night and he by day, alone, for all eternity.
"Only when there are four female descendants of Solange alive at the same time can this curse be broken. Only when those four find, and bring together the broken pieces of the Stone of Power, will their loving forebear find peace and be reunited with her lost love. She gave her life for her offspring. I can only hope her descendants will be willing, one day, to undertake this quest in an effort to repay her.
"Be aware, however, that there will be consequences, and that only by acknowledging, respecting and controlling your own powers the powers passed on to you through the blood of your mothers and theirs before them will you succeed. You'll need those powers, all of you. You'll need to work together. You'll need courage and determination, but most of all you'll need love. For love is the greatest power of all, and it can conquer anything. Solange didn't trust in love. You must learn from her error.
"Solange's love for you is the reason you are alive today. Let your own love, for her, for each other, ensure that you remain so."
When he finished penning the tale, Jonathon added a painstakingly drawn likeness of the Stone of Power and a request that additional copies of the tale and the image be made and handed down to each female descendant.
Years and years later, when Bobby was much older, Jonathon saw to it that his son received this journal. He made it clear to Bobby that the journal was to be copied and given to Bobby's daughters, or if there were none, to his granddaughters. All this he did in the faint hope that one day, women would be born into his family strong, brave women who would be willing and able to break the curse.
He left out the details of what else would happen when the pieces of the Stone of Power were reunited. That it might well bring to life an ancient evil. If he had included that, he feared no one would ever be willing to take the risk.
And take the risk they must!
Jonathon Deveaux died at seventy-two, in the house he had shared with his wife, the manor house in the Garden District of New Orleans; the house he knew she still inhabited by night. He heard her sometimes, walking the halls, trapped between the worlds, a restless, lonely spirit. And after he died, he walked the halls as well, but only by day.
Sometimes, he was afforded the merest glimpse of her, just at the moment when the sun reached the horizon. He would reach for her, tell her he loved her, but they never touched. The closest he got to Solange was the portrait of her that hung in the house he prayed no one would ever move it.
For more than a century, they existed in this limbo, a hell of unending loneliness, always waiting for a someday that might never come.