Paula Morris (29 page)

"Then why has he just dumped me here now?" Rebecca spat
out, her voice shaking, "If it's so dangerous for me to be here?"

"I talked him into it," said Aunt Claudia calmly, and
suddenly she didn't seem so batty and eccentric anymore. This woman Rebecca
barely knew ... she was holding Rebecca's life in her hands! "He's spent
all your life trying to dodge this curse, trying to hide you from its power.
But I made him see there was no escaping it. Bowman girls have died in other
places, far from New Orleans. Staying away wouldn't save you. The curse needs
to play out, just as Miss Celia predicted. I'm doing everything I can to
protect you."

"But he should be here," Rebecca said, barely able to
listen, sobs welling up in her throat. She missed her father so much. "Why
is he in China, when he should be here?"

"Rebecca, baby." Aunt Claudia's voice was gentle.
"He is here. He was only in China for a little while, when you first came
in November."

"I got another postcard from him, just last week!"

"Someone sent it for him. He left a stack for a colleague to
mail to you. When you came back to New Orleans after

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the holidays, he flew down on the next flight. He's been here,
watching over you as well."

"I want to see him," said Rebecca through a sob. She
needed her father to tell her this whole story was true, to reassure her that
everything was going to be OK. But Aunt Claudia was shaking her head.

"It would be very dangerous for the two of you to be seen
together. Although it's a long time since he lived here, and he looks very
different these days, there's always a chance someone will recognize him. He
has to keep away from this neighborhood. Believe me,
I
don't even see
him, though he's staying somewhere in the Quarter. It's just too risky."

"If he can't do anything, then why is he even here?"
Rebecca felt irrationally angry with him right now.

Aunt Claudia patted her hand, as though she was trying to calm
Rebecca down.

"Your mother died trying to protect you," she said.
"The two of you were crossing that street in Paris, hand in hand, and when
Sarah saw a car heading for you, she flung you out of the way, not even
thinking about saving herself. Your father insists he'll do the same. I keep telling
him to stay away, because right now nobody has any idea that you're a Bowman.
You look more like your mother, thank god."

"You knew her?" Now Rebecca really wanted to cry.

"I never met her." Aunt Claudia smiled sadly at Rebecca.
"But I saw her photograph."

"I had a picture of her in my wallet, but it
disappeared."

"Your father took it. He didn't want anyone here to see it --
to see him with you, and put two and two together. After losing your mother, he
couldn't bear the thought of losing

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you as well." Aunt Claudia leaned forward, brushing Rebecca's
hair away from her hot, damp face.

"So how do you know my father?" Rebecca demanded. She
couldn't understand why her father was putting so much faith in someone who
read tarot cards for a living.

"I was the one person in New Orleans he'd kept in contact
with. He's a few years younger than I am, and I used to baby-sit him a lot when
he was a child. We would explore the cemetery together, and I would scare him
with stories about Miss Celia. I swore him to secrecy about them, because I
thought I might get into trouble with my mother or his, and I needed that
babysitting money. Paul never told a soul. And even though years passed and our
lives moved in very different directions, we knew we could always trust each
other. I was his eyes and his ears here, trying as best as I could to take up
where Miss Celia left off."

"And that's why you went to see him in New York that
time," said Rebecca, trying to piece it all together.

"Yes, that's why. I had to remind him that you would be at
risk wherever you lived, whatever name you had on your birth certificate. The
curse doesn't care about pieces of paper. And now, the fact that you can see
the ghost, just as Helena can, proves that the spirit world knows exactly who
you are, even if nobody else here has a clue."

"But I still don't get why I have to be here," Rebecca
said sulkily. "Helena is the seventh girl -- when she dies, the curse will
end. Isn't that what you said?"

She realized this sounded incredibly mean and selfish, as though
she was wishing death on Helena, but she couldn't stop herself.

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"Miss Celia had a very specific vision of the end of the
curse," Aunt Claudia reminded her. "Remember? She saw two girls on
the night of the Septimus parade. Meeting each other face-to-face by
torchlight. For the seventh girl, it will end in the cemetery -- and you're
right, Helena is the seventh girl. You're several weeks younger than she is.
And your taking part in the parade ... well, maybe it's a good thing."

"A good thing?" Rebecca was incredulous at her aunt's
sudden change of heart.

"Septimus is a nighttime parade, so the route will be lit by
the flambeaux. And because they park on Louisiana rather than Jackson, the
floats of the royal court drive along Prytania. Past the Bowman mansion -- you
see? Even if Helena is too sick to attend, she'll be watching out the window.
There'll just be you and Marianne on your float, so she won't be able to miss
you. Miss Celia's prophecy will come true -- the two of you will see each other
by torchlight."

"But what about the burning house and all that other
stuff?"

Aunt Claudia tapped one finger against her mouth.

"That one had me stumped for a while," she admitted at
last. "Until Aurelia told me about the theme for the parade -- the rising
phoenix. I guessed that one or more of the floats would be decorated to
resemble a burning building. Everything Miss Celia saw related to the
parade."

"My
costume is designed to look like
flames," Rebecca told her. "And Marianne's is all dark, like smoke
and ashes. The other two maids are wind and water, I think, but I haven't seen
their costumes -- they're on another float. Everything's about fire and
rebirth, Marianne told me."

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"So this might be it!" Aunt Claudia looked relieved.
"Helena is very ill -- I heard two of the maids talking about it at the
grocery store just a week ago. She's too sick to leave her bed most days."

Rebecca decided not to mention seeing Helena standing in her
bedroom window the other day, Anton by her side, gazing down at Rebecca with
snooty contempt. Clearly Helena wasn't so ill that she couldn't struggle to the
window. She
had
looked pale and drawn, it was true, but then, she'd been
inside the house for weeks.

"And we have this page." Aunt Claudia pointed at the
March twelfth sheet lying next to Rebecca. "That means you'll be here to
see your birthday -- your
real
birthday."

"I hope so." Rebecca was overcome by everything she'd
learned tonight. Her father ... her father was a Bowman! And he was right here,
in New Orleans, hiding from everyone. Hiding from
her.

"The prophecy will play out, just as Miss Celia saw it,"
Aunt Claudia was saying. "Everything will happen just as she said. And
you'll be safe at the end of it all -- you mustn't worry, Rebecca. When the
parade ends, I'll be waiting to help you off the float and take you home. Then
it'll all be over."

"For Helena," Rebecca whispered. It was so hard to
believe that she was really going to die.

"Poor girl," said Aunt Claudia, shaking her head. She
gathered up her glasses and pushed herself up out of the low armchair.
"This curse has been a blight on our community for too many years. It's
made too many people secretive and fearful. I feel terrible for poor Helena
Bowman, but I just want all of this to end."

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Neither of them were in the mood for parades that evening. They
ate a dinner of warmed-up leftovers, and then, after she'd washed the dishes,
all Rebecca wanted to do was sleep. Or lie in her darkened room, at any rate,
trying to process all this new information. Aunt Claudia followed her along the
hallway as though she were reluctant to let Rebecca go.

"Say nothing to anyone about this conversation," she
whispered, pulling Rebecca close for a bony hug. "Don't let Marianne think
you're anything other than excited about taking part in the parade. Just act
the way you always act at school. And whatever you do -- don't tell a soul that
you can see the ghost."

"All right," Rebecca murmured, wriggling free of her
aunt's grasp the way Marilyn the cat squirmed away from Aurelia. She slipped
into her bedroom and closed the door, her heart thundering.

Don't tell a soul you can see the ghost.

But she'd already blabbed about seeing the ghost. She'd told
Anton, that day in the cemetery. Maybe he thought she was joking, or lying, or
just trying to show off. Or maybe he'd gone straight to the Bowmans and told
them all about it. There was no way Rebecca could find out, because something
told her she wouldn't be seeing or hearing from Anton again.

Once upon a time, Rebecca had thought he was on her side. But
then, she'd thought that about Lisette as well. And Lisette must have known all
along what it meant when Rebecca could see her -- that Rebecca was a Bowman as
well, and a potential victim of this curse.

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Her father, Anton, Lisette ... there was nobody Rebecca could
trust anymore. They all told her half-truths. They all tried to keep her in the
dark.

But one thing was crystal clear to Rebecca. Tomorrow she was going
to walk back into the cemetery, to look for the ghost causing all this trouble.
The Septimus parade was just days away, and she wanted the truth from Lisette.
The whole truth.

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***

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

***

On saturday morning, dark clouds still rolled in the sky,
threatening a more severe downpour than last night's intermittent showers.
Rebecca shivered, a damp cold invading her bones as she marched past a yawning
tour group -- all in rain jackets, conventioneers' plastic lanyards hanging
around their necks -- and toward the Bowman tomb. It was strange to think of
her father playing here when he was a child -- long before he was "Michael
Brown," in the days when he was still Paul Bowman. This was the place Aunt
Claudia had told him her creepy stories; this might even be the spot where he
first learned about the curse on the Bowman family and the prediction Miss
Celia had made all those years ago. All this time, Rebecca had thought of the
cemetery as her own secret place, in a way, but her father and her aunt knew it
as well. Knew it more intimately than she did, probably, because they'd grown
up looking at it every day. She wondered where her father's bedroom used to be
in the Bowman house. Maybe he could have

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gazed right into the cemetery from his window, the way Helena
could now.

Because she was so lost in thought, Rebecca managed to trip over a
tree root and stub her toe on a shattered tomb plate en route to the Bowman
tomb. But one thing she didn't miss: the sight of Lisette huddled on the cold
steps of the Bowman tomb, staring up at her, looking about as miserable as
Rebecca felt.

"I know what's going on," Rebecca said, stalking up to
the ghost and stopping a few feet away. However dejected Lisette looked,
Rebecca wasn't going to allow herself to melt with sympathy or let Lisette off
the hook in any way. "You haven't been honest with me."

Lisette leaned back against the base of the tomb, her dark eyes
dull with sadness.

"I've told you my story," she said softly. "You
know what
I
know."

"That's not true!" Rebecca was trying to keep her voice
down, but it was hard when she was so upset. "There are other things you
could have told me -- should have told me. Like the old lady, Miss Celia,
coming to the cemetery and making her prophecy. You
must
have been here
for that!"

"I was." Lisette stroked her long braid, gazing up at
Rebecca. "But there were lots of people who came and went and said things
about the curse. Lots of crazy ladies, and a priest, and some kind of Indian
who was chanting and rattling something all around the tomb. They all said they
could see into the future."

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"And you know more than they do, right? You're just not
willing to tell me."

"I don't know anything!" Lisette looked wounded.
"I've told you everything I know. I have no idea when the curse will end.
You
know as much about all this as I do."

"Yeah, right," hissed Rebecca. She crossed her arms,
glaring down at Lisette. "With one major exception. That first night, when
you found me here in the cemetery, and I looked up at you -- when I could
see
you! I didn't know what it meant, but you did -- didn't you? You've known
all along."

Lisette took a long breath; she said nothing. She wasn't admitting
anything, but she wasn't denying it, either.