A Twisted Ladder (77 page)

NEW ORLEANS, 2010

M
ADELEINE LEARNED THAT ANOTHER
prisoner had attacked Zenon on the night she’d gone to visit him. Without being told, she knew who the other prisoner was. She’d unleashed him herself. But in the attack, Zenon did not die; he was, however, left in a catatonic state. He could breathe on his own but was otherwise unresponsive.

Madeleine’s intention was not that Zenon should suffer injuries in that particular way. When she had used the trick on the other prisoner, she had bent her mind around the concept of killing Zenon. And probably, that’s what the prisoner intended to do. He’d broken Zenon’s neck with his bare hands, and then proceeded to beat him nearly to death. Madeleine learned that he had acted suddenly and without provocation. And when the guards caught up with him, he was trying to remove Zenon’s jumpsuit, and they suspected he’d intended to sexually assault him.

An important thing to remember when cross-pollinating suggestions into other people’s minds: The thoughts that grow will sometimes be hybrids.

Zenon had left a living will. In it, he’d provided for the situation that he might become incapacitated. In such a circumstance, Zenon had appointed power of attorney to his sister, Dr. Madeleine LeBlanc. He also deeded the old plantation, Terrefleurs, to Madeleine.

She wondered if she would ever understand him.

MADELEINE LED ETHAN INTO
the foyer of her new old home on Esplanade, looking up at the staircase that swept in a curve to the mezzanine above. The railing, made of a smooth polished cherry that seemed to glow from deep within, beckoned her to touch its surface. The steps arced around the foyer in contour to the crystal chandelier dropping into the heart of it.

“It looks exactly how it did before the fire,” Ethan said.

Madeleine nodded. “They’ve done an amazing job. But, it isn’t really
exactly
the same. There are new details. Step lights hidden in the stairs so you can see your way in the dark. Modern kitchen and bathrooms. Things like that.”

Some things simply had to change in order to accommodate a new era. Now, at this point in her life, Madeleine understood that better than anyone.

Jasmine bounded ahead, her furry tail standing with recognition as she leapt from one new-but-familiar room to another. Severin, too, explored as if in a giant doll house. An instant ghost to haunt the halls.

It was a bittersweet tour; Madeleine would sell the house. She could not afford it. She had agreed to a settlement that drained almost everything, including the rest of the trust fund and the sale from the cottage in Bayou Black. But, she still held the warehouse on Magazine and the apartment within it where she lived.

She looked through the window of the grand hall, beyond which reporters were assembled along the street.

Ethan followed her gaze. “Let’s get away from prying eyes.”

She gave a rueful smile and looked up to where Severin was running along the top of the landing upstairs. “If only it was just them.”

Madeleine led him to the rear courtyard, the little hidden garden nestled against the crook of the house, and Jasmine trotted along with them. Jazz found a stretch of shade beneath the gentle, lacey honeysuckle, and lay down.

Ethan looked around. “Is the girl here right now?”

Madeleine shook her head. “Inside.”

“It amazes me how you handle it.”

“Thanks, but I’m not so sure I am handling it. Just trying to make it through each moment.”

The courtyard still had some construction rubble. Leftover ends cut from sheetrock, a square industrial pencil, a screwdriver, and other odd bits that lay piled in the corner. Madeleine would have to see about getting it all hauled away. Her old wrought iron bistro table and chairs still rested in the sunshine, and on the table lay a construction worker’s forgotten paper cup with coffee and cream and about half a dozen cigarette butts.

Ethan cleared the cup and sat on one of the chairs. “The truth is, Madeleine, you’re one of the most amazing people I know.”

Her urge was to correct him, argue about the “amazing” part, but she stifled it. She sat down opposite him, not meeting his eye. She thought of Zenon and all the things she wished she’d done differently.

Ethan said, “And I know how hard it’s been, but when you think about it, you really come from a brilliant family legacy. Me, my family’s got genes that breed athletes and scientific minds. That’s nice and all, but your family, it’s like you’re a step ahead of evolution.”

Madeleine looked over her shoulder toward the French doors, as though the house itself were a reflection of that legacy. “I suppose. I haven’t made up my mind yet. Can’t figure out whether we’ve all been cursed or are just unlucky.”

“Or gifted.”

She looked at him. “Chloe called them gifts, too. But gifts aren’t supposed to come with a price.”

“It’s just part of it, baby. Any time a change comes along, it’s just the natural human condition to react with fear. But fear ain’t nothing but what you get when you’ve yet to understand.”

“Or accept.”

“Yeah, or accept. The disconnect in your family is just that you’re all out of sync. None of y’all understood the other one’s deal until it was too late.”

“Now it’s too late for Zenon.”

Ethan turned away for a moment, his gaze following a golden butterfly lighting upon the fresh greens climbing the side of the house. Those vines looked so different from the black thorns that had become her inner garden.

Madeleine said, “I can’t figure out why he deeded Terrefleurs to me. But I think I might try and fix it up.”

Ethan looked back at her. “I’ll help you.” And then he said, “You’re the last of them, you know.”

She shook her head. “Technically, there are two of us. Zenon’s still alive.”

“I don’t know, Madeleine. I’ve seen a lot of neurological trauma before, and I don’t think he’ll ever be anything but catatonic.”

“I’m going to look after him. Make sure he’s comfortable in the hospital bed, at least.”

“You know you didn’t have a choice.”

“I didn’t. But there are so many what-if’s.” But then she recalled her brother’s secret. “Actually, you know, Zenon and I aren’t the only ones left.”

Ethan thought for a moment. “Marc’s child.”

She nodded. “It’s not too late for the baby.”

“It’s not too late for you, either. You can be the one who tries something different.”

“But what? Just make it from day to day without getting overtaken? Seems that’s what we’ve all done.”

Ethan rubbed his jaw. “Me and Sam both wanted you to get treatment at first, but now . . .”

Madeleine shrugged. “What treatment? There’s no existing therapy for this.”

Ethan considered this. “Maybe it’s not so much a matter of treating. Maybe it’s about training.”

“You mean old Chloe’s briar university.”

“She does know more about this than anyone there is.”

“But she’s liable to lead me into a spider’s web.”

“You don’t have to follow everything she says, and you don’t have to buy into her philosophy. Just be the scientific observer. See what she shows you. Keep an open mind.”

Madeleine thought this over. “Maybe. Just so long as she never finds out about Marc’s baby.”

Ethan said, “Yeah, no kidding. And aside from Chloe, you could look at other ways to figure things out. See if you can get a new handle on it.”

“Like what?”

“We oughtta be able to figure something out. You and I both know a thing or two about the power of the human brain.”

“Physician, heal thyself?”

He grinned. “Something like that.”

“But this is different from anything that has to do with my training. I wouldn’t know where to begin.”

“How about neuroplasticity?”

Madeleine lifted her brows. The adaptable brain. The brain that can be trained. After all, she’d managed to make it to trial (though not quite
through
the trial) by following her own brain-training regimen.

She said, “I suppose it depends on the objective. I need to figure out what I’m training
for
. I guess the top of the list is to keep the wildness and chaos under control.”

“And also, tap into all that potential that the rest of us know we have, but can never seem to get at. You actually have real access.”

She flipped it over in her mind. She wasn’t sure, but she was warming to the idea.

“Neuroplasticity,” Ethan said again. “What do you already know about keeping the chaos under control?”

“Well, when I’m relaxed, the briar seems to stay manageable.”

“Good. So you build up those relaxation neurons. What else?”

She grinned. “There’s, um, you know, sex. Seems to be an excellent bramble tamer.”

Ethan raised a brow. “Well, we will most certainly have to study up on that one. Consider me your devoted training partner.”

She laughed. “And that’s another one: laughter. I suppose because both are kinds of escape.”

“OK, good. So far we’re going to make super neurons for laughter, relaxation and sex. I can think of worse methods. Walking, too.”

She remembered Monkey Hill, and laughed again, a shaking, exhilarating release.

“Anything else?” he asked with a grin.

She thought back over the past several months. “For some reason, when I’m in the flower shop with Sam, helping her make arrangements, it calms Severin and me both. And in my grandmother’s diary, she said her father used to carve dolls, and that helped to heal him somehow. But Mémée’s last entry was when her father had gone missing after a flood, so I don’t know much more after that.”

“Dolls?”

“Yeah. I thought it was some kind of a voodoo practice. But now . . .” She frowned. “Anyway, I tried carving on a stick but only managed to cut my hand.”

Ethan gazed at her a moment. “Maybe it’s the creativity.”

She considered this. “You know, I think you might be right.”

He said, “The creative brain undergoes a shift in chemical and electrical activity. Maybe that environment is ideal for your particular brain requirements.”

“Brain requirements. Ha.”

“It’s worth a shot.”

“You’re right. I’m not terribly creative, but I can work on that.”

He said, “All right, so we have a neuroplasticity plan of action for the chaos part. What about the other part? The part about tapping into your potential?”

“Well, I would say that the creative practice helps with that, too. Otherwise, it’s just a simple matter of exploring in there.”

“You can literally find things?”

“Well no, it’s not like hunting for Easter eggs. But as I wander through, there are certain senses that awaken.”

Severin’s voice came from behind. “I can show you much, much!”

Madeleine wheeled around. The little girl was standing by the French doors. Her eyes were gleaming.

Ethan asked, “Is she back?”

Madeleine nodded.

“Ask her where she comes from.”

Severin answered him directly. “I am what is Madeleine, and Madeleine is we.”

Madeleine said to her, “But can you show me? Show me exactly where you come from?”

“Hang on,” Ethan said, and he stood and patted his pockets, then limped to the pile of rubble. He grabbed the construction pencil and a cut piece of sheetrock. “We’re going to do this right. Recorded sessions. All right now, go ahead.”

MADELEINE CLOSED HER EYES.
It began as it had before. She felt as though she was spinning toward the earth, and yet it still occurred within the bramble. A wide, dizzying cavern. She was both falling and weightless at the same time. Severin was leading the way. But as they traveled, Madeleine realized she was not falling toward the earth, though it did seem to have a similar shape, this place.

“What do you see?”

Ethan’s voice. He sounded far off and unreal. Inside the briar, he was the hallucination and Severin was reality.

Madeleine replied, though she could not see him: “I can’t tell yet. Some kind of heavenly body. I thought it was earth, but it’s not.”

But as she drew nearer, she said, “Tangled lines. Looks almost like a giant clod of hair. I’m trying to get closer.”