Chapter Eleven
Marina
The sun beat down on the garden, a square bricked area at the back of the house surrounded by large planters. Marina sat in a chair swing and rocked back and forth, enjoying the feel of the morning sun on her skin.
She had come downstairs a little later than usual and was surprised to find the house quiet. Her chef wasn’t due in until later, but she expected to see Bethany busying herself with one thing or another. While mildly annoyed at the lack of activity, she decided to push that aside and simply enjoy the peace and quiet.
Turning at the sound of a door opening overhead, Marina looked up and saw Catriona peeking over the railing that wrapped around each level. “Come on down,” she called. The girl waved and headed for the stairs, descending slowly.
“Good morning,” Catriona said, wiping the sleep from her eyes.
“How was the first night in your room?”
“It was wonderful. I don’t think I’ve slept on a more comfortable mattress.”
“Good. That space is yours to do with as you wish.”
Catriona fidgeted nervously and looked around the garden area, her eyes falling on a separate building at the far end of the yard.
“Do you see anything there?” Marina asked, leaning forward.
“I’m not sure. It looks as though it is sitting in the middle of a desert like it’s a shimmering mirage.” She opened her mouth to say more but snapped it shut when the ability to find the right words appeared to drift away.
“I’ll show you the interior later. You might need to ready yourself for what you will see.” Seeing the girl stare at the old slave quarters made her uncomfortable. She picked at a stray thread on her sweatpants and quickly changed the subject. “Did you happen to see James or Bethany this morning?”
“I thought I hear someone moving around in the wee hours, but I was out pretty hard, so I wouldn’t count on it.”
Something felt off to Marina. She tried to write it off as James and Bethany staying up a little too late on their first night home, but that didn’t seem quite right. Both were reliable and good at their jobs, so it was more than a little disconcerting that neither had made an appearance.
She picked up her phone and toyed with the idea of calling James, but she decided to hold off and wait a little while longer. Her patience was rewarded a few minutes later when he appeared in the garden carrying a tray holding a coffee pot and some cups.
“My apologies for the late nature of the delivery, Madame. I must be getting old. That drive did me in.”
The smell of freshly brewed coffee wafted through the air as James poured it into the cups and handed them to the women.
“Chef is here and preparing breakfast as we speak. It shouldn’t be more than a few minutes before he is ready to serve.”
“Sit and join us for a coffee, James,” Marina said.
“I have a few things I need to attend to, Madame.”
“I’m not asking,” she replied sternly. “Sit.”
Marina watched as James poured a cup for himself, looking for any sign of a tremor or nervousness, but he was steady as always. “How is Bethany? No one seems to have seen her this morning.”
James stared over the top of his coffee cup, unblinking. He took a drink, placed the cup on the table, and said, “She left early. A call came in from her mother in the early hours of the morning. Her father is quite sick, and her mother wanted her home. She said to apologize on her behalf for leaving without notice.”
“Oh, the poor dear. Well, if you talk to her later, as I’m sure you will, please pass on my best wishes.” The conversation seemed normal and natural, but Marina couldn’t help but feel like she was in the midst of a chess match. She shot a glance at Catriona, who was savoring her coffee and looking around the garden, blissfully unaware of any tension. Perhaps it was all in her head. The events of the last couple of days had been draining and left her feeling oddly vulnerable.
“Shall I go see to breakfast, Madame?”
“No, James, that’s fine. Let’s all go inside and eat. I want to read some more of the journal to Catriona and then show her the bathing room. Can you make sure that things look presentable in there?”
“Of course. It should be ready for viewing by the time breakfast is over.”
***
The chef fussed over them both, continuing to pile food on their plates even while they complained that they couldn’t manage another bite. Marina eventually brought the proceedings to a halt by exclaiming that she would need to skip lunch if he continued to make any more food. The idea of missing a meal was abhorrent to Chef Paul, so he cleared up their dishes and disappeared into the kitchen.
Marina pushed back from the dining room table and made her way into the living room, where she picked up the journal and returned to join Catriona. “I have a confession to make,” she said.
“What’s that?”
“I read ahead last night. There isn’t much more to her story. Most of the journal is nothing more than empty pages with what looks to be smears of blood.”
“Are you disappointed?” Catriona asked, dabbing at her lips with a napkin.
“I suppose so. The truth is that I didn’t know what to expect. It appears the legend of the story is bigger than what I have here.” Marina opened the book and flipped lazily through the pages. “Given what I know about her through the internet is that she passed rather suddenly. I believe that she scribbled down as much as she could in her waning hours. I suppose this is the best I could have hoped for.”
“I would still like to hear the rest if you don’t mind, Miss MacCarthy.”
Marina stood and held out her hand, which Catriona took. “I think I know the perfect place to read it to you.”
Hand in hand, they stepped out into the garden and headed for the building Catriona had asked about earlier. The old slave quarters’ bricks were painted white, the windows covered with red fabric on the inside. A heavy oak door looked old, but it was obviously solid, as was the oversized padlock that kept out unwanted visitors.
Letting go of Catriona’s hand, Marina reached into her pocket and retrieved a large key, the top of which had a large encircled “M.” Marina slipped the key into the padlock, opened it, and placed her hand on the handle. Turning to face Catriona, she asked, “Are you sure you are ready for this?”
The girl nodded even though every instinct was telling her to turn and run.
The door swung open easily, revealing an open space that was shrouded in shadows and darkness. Those shadows seemed to move, but it may have been nothing more than the daylight creeping inside and trying to fill the space.
“Wait right here for a moment,” Marina said, stepping inside and moving into the shadows.
The sound of a match being struck filled the air, quickly followed by the smell of sulfur wafting over to the open door. The sound and smell repeated a few times, the interior of the building becoming more visible with each strike of the match. Marina quickly moved around the room and lit the oil lanterns dotted around the space, filling the room with an ambient glow that might have been cozy were it not for what the light revealed.
The walls were made of exposed bricks that appeared to have been charred by fire. The floor was also made of bricks, but they were mostly covered by a layer of straw that looked new. Six thick wooden pillars jutted up from the floor, acting as supports for the cross-hatched timber roof structure. Each of the posts had manacles embedded in the wood while also holding a pulley system with ropes stretching across a claw-foot tub in the center of the room. Off to one side, there was a barred jail area where a pair of women lay on battered mattresses in even worse shape than the one in Catriona’s old living space.
Seeing the look of horror on Catriona’s face, Marina rushed over and put a consoling arm around her shoulder. “I know it’s a shock, dear. Are you okay?”
Swallowing hard, Catriona nodded, her gaze shifting over to the naked women passed out on the mattresses. “Are they dead?”
“No. They are drugged up on the poison of their choosing. Come in and allow me to explain.”
They crossed the room to a pair of chairs behind the tub, the straw crunching under their feet with each step. Catriona placed her hand on the charred bricks, which were cool to the touch.
“What do you see?” Marina asked.
“It’s not what I see; it’s what I hear.” Catriona leaned over and pressed her ear to the bricks, eyes closed.
“What is it?”
“Are you telling me you can’t hear the scratching? I thought it might be rats.”
Marina laughed. “I can assure you that we don’t have rats here and, no, I don’t hear anything.”
“Why are they all black? Did you have a fire?”
“Those are the bricks from the original LaLaurie Mansion slave quarters. When they rebuilt this place, they decided to use some of the pieces that survived the fire. Adds a nice little touch of authenticity, don’t you think?”
Catriona pulled her hand away from the wall as though burned.
Crossing her legs, Marina placed the journal in her lap and studied Catriona. She had hoped for more from the girl, had believed that she might see or feel something after arriving at the house. Perhaps a full view into her bathing ritual would open the girl’s eyes. “Before I read, I have something to ask.”
“You can ask me anything.”
“I want you to have the full experience of the house, so I would like you to bathe with me this evening.”
Catriona’s face flushed crimson, and she looked ready to bolt out of her seat.
“This is not some sexual favor I’m asking. Think of it as a way of expanding your mind and getting to know myself and the house a little better. Perhaps it will help deliver a clearer picture of my future.”
“The blood. Where does it come from?” Catriona asked, already knowing the answer.
“You already saw my two houseguests over there,” Marina said, nodding in the direction of the barred room.
“Will I need to…”
“James will take care of everything. He will hang those things over the tub and slice their throats, bleeding them dry. He will then fill the remainder of the tub with hot water and some essential oils that are good for the skin. Honestly, it will look and feel like scented rose water. It’s a pleasurable experience, Catriona.”
Tears brimmed in her eyes, threatening to burst free. “What did those women do to you? How were they chosen?”
Marina leaned forward, her voice dropping to a whisper. “They are filth. Drug users, whores, and thieves, users and takers. They contribute nothing to society but pain served cold to their loved ones. They don’t deserve to live. I am doing the world a favor by removing their like from view, permanently.”
The scratching sound intensified in Catriona’s mind as she listened to the rant. She wanted to claw at her ears to try and make it all stop. “Won’t their blood be tainted?” she finally managed to ask.
“That is the secret, my sweet Catriona. Elizabeth and Delphine bathed in the blood of the innocent and needy. It is the blood of the corrupt that heals, the rottenness filtered out when it touches the skin of the noble and good. There is an endless supply in this shitty world, and I will tap into it for as long as I live, which I imagine will be for quite some time.” She sat back and flipped open the journal. “So, are you with me?”
The world seemed to spin out of control for just a moment. She closed her eyes to regain control and caught a brief glimpse of a pot of water boiling on a stove. She focused harder on the pot and saw that it was blood, not water. Chunks of meat bobbed to the surface and rolled over, revealing themselves as fingers, burned down almost to the bone. Catriona opened her eyes and spoke. “Aye. Count me in.”
With a smile, Marina looked down at the journal and began to read.