The Blood Bond

Death

The night was dipped in thick molasses. Sitting on the porch, he nursed another shot of bourbon. The night belonged to creatures of the dark, with dark voracious appetites and a hunger only sated by blood, just as vicious and ravenous as the townsfolk. The air smelled of honeysuckle and sweet water. Fireflies buzzed all around him. The crickets and the whispering wind gave the night a tempered mellow sound that few understood. The moon was full and bright, illuminating the trees as the wind lightly blew, but the lake remained unfazed. It was still. It was always still, never moving like the dead after they'd been buried. However, he knew the truth. The lake was alive.

Darkwater Lake was obscure and dangerous like in the past. Many lives were lost in Darkwater Lake. Long ago, the lake had another name. It had a name befitting its lineage: Blood Lake. For it was the blood of many that filled its depths, cursing the damned and those who made their home in the area. Over the years, many feared the lake, but not him. He always thought it beautiful and a fitting place to build his home, so he did.

At one point in time, he was the most powerful man in the region and feared by all. He preferred it. In some way, he wished it could be that way again. Too many lies, too many deceptions, too many deaths prevented that dream from coming true. Now it was all over. There was nothing more to be done.

Blood Lake held his attention that night. It was the place where he last saw her all those years ago. She was everything to him; his sanity, his hope, his friend, and he loved her. She held within her the only thing that would give him his salvation, and the Blood Lake took her. She was the reason he returned to this place, to Darkwater Bay to rest. After all these years, it was finally time. If he could not be with her in the afterlife, at least he was content with knowing he would be beside her. He was ready to die.

It had taken years to accomplish this feat. With the end in sight, nothing was going to stop him from his goal. He was an old man now, ready to lay down his worldly burdens and stand before the eyes of the Gods to receive his punishment. He knew what the verdict would be. He was ready for it. He lived too long and had a dangerous life. He’d taken too many lives and had remorse for none. He was the epitome of evil, and, as such, was destined to spend an eternity in hell. It was the least he could do for all the pain and suffering he caused, but mainly he was ready to leave this life and never return.

Rocking back and forth, he stared at the mirrored black glass before him and waited. He implored her to show herself to him once more. It had been many years since he gazed upon her loving face. He wanted to see her before his last breath left him. He couldn’t stand the nightmares, the misery, the loneliness of his existence with the memory of her seared into his soul.

Over the years, he tried everything to forget her and the promise he made. He should have known better than to believe the old witch. His reality was nothing more than a fabled story now. Pure fiction made up to scare the small children of the bayou, but he knew his story was real. He tried to keep his promise to her and he had failed. All was gone from this earth. None remained. Only him. Now it was time for him to leave too.

The wind howled something ominous, alerting him that he wasn’t alone and, like all the time before, he stopped rocking and listened to what the wind was hiding.

“It’s just the wind,” he whispered as his old voice cracked, thinking his sanity was the last to go. He wasn’t a young man anymore. His voice no longer held the melodious tune that once enthralled all those who listened. His time was nearing and there was nothing more he could do but wait. He started rocking again and listened to the wind in the trees sing him a sad song of death and sorrow. It was the song of his life. He tried to tell himself that what he heard wasn’t real, just the imaginative ramblings of an elderly man.

He was a damned man. Had been ever since he was thrust into this life, along with his brothers, who were now long gone from this earth. He missed them, wished they were still walking the earth. He could use their counsel. Nevertheless, that was not the case. He was the first to be born and would be the last to die. There were no more descendants. The bloodlines were obsolete. He was the only one left. The curse will end tonight. He thought it fitting. There would be no one to mourn him, none to weep for him. He was truly alone in this world.

Looking up at the moon, he waited, knowing in mere minutes the blood moon would be upon him. Time was ticking away fast, as he heard the soft tick, tick, tick of his watch. He took another swig of his whiskey, thankful his family couldn’t see his demise. Looking at his watch, he counted the times, the hours, minutes and seconds of life he had left. His alarm was set. Now all he had to do was wait, for it was coming.

The blood moon always came.

Staring ahead, he looked at the blood lake and waited for the moon to take him.

****

“Don’t leave me, grandfather,” Isadora De’Hon silently cried as she held the aged hand of her only living relative. Her grandfather, August De’Hon, was the only parent she knew. The only family she had left, and he was fading fast, right before her eyes. There wasn’t a happy memory in her mind, that didn’t have her grandfather in it. He loved and adored her, her whole life. He showed her the world, without regret. Everything he had and did, he did for her, and Isadora loved him the more for it. Every memory she had, the good and the bad, was because of the man lying before her.

Instead of embarking on her grand adventure she planned so hard for, she sat vigil, praying next to him, as he lay dying. She knew her grandfather had held on for as long as possible, but she wished he would hold on a little longer. She couldn’t imagine her life without him in it. She felt as if she were losing her anchor to this world and, with the death of her grandfather quickly approaching, she would soon be set adrift, alone to fend for herself.

She wasn’t ready. She would never be ready.

There weren’t going to be any more late night chess games, trips to the beach, or long walks in the garden. Soon, she was going to be alone…alone in the big world without anyone to rely on. He had been preparing her for this moment her whole life, and yet she wasn’t ready to let go. She knew she wasn’t. Scared, she gripped his hand, trying to hold onto him, praying that her own life force could sustain him.

“No tears, Isa,” he rasped. She knew better. Isadora had promised her grandfather a million times, that when the time came, she would smile. However, nothing could prepare her for the heartache of watching him die before her eyes. “I don’t have much time, my dear. I need your word. Promise me you will follow my wishes to the letter. Everything is arranged. All you have to do is follow the instructions in my will and then you can begin to live your life.”

“I don’t understand grandfather. Why can’t I be at your funeral? I deserve to say goodbye,” Isadora said, trying desperately not to cry as she pleaded with him.

“You are saying goodbye to me right now, my beautiful girl. There is no sense in rehashing my death for days. I want you to move on and live. Please promise me.

“But grandfather,” she tried to interject, but her grandfather wasn’t listening.

“It’s my dying wish, Isa. Please, I need to hear you say the words.”

With a heavy heart, Isadora whispered, “I promise grandfather.”

Isadora never moved from her spot as she silently held his hand. Listening to the beep, beep, and beep of his heart on the machine next to him as it slowly slowed. Seconds, minutes, hours, she didn’t know which, but she did know what the silence in the room meant.

He was gone.

She was all alone.

****

Isadora did exactly as her grandfather instructed. She stood by as the home nurse turned off the machines and then checked for a pulse that was not there. Isadora wanted to scream at her to try to revive him, but her grandfather was insistent, right down to the last detail. There would be no excessive measures for him. The nurse had the papers to prove it. Instead, Isadora sat silently by as the nurse pulled the white sheet over her grandfather’s head and then left to make the call to the hospital.

Removing her shaking hand from her grandfather, Isadora quietly rose from the chair she had been sitting in for the last few hours, turned, and left him as he requested. It killed her to walk away, but she had made a promise and once she gave her word, she kept it. Her grandfather taught her that, and she didn’t want to disappoint him. Moving quietly through the halls of the only home she ever knew, she headed down the winding staircase to her grandfather’s study.

She was never allowed in her grandfather’s study without permission. Isadora felt as if she were intruding, disobeying him for the first time in her life. She wanted her grandfather to find her snooping around his personal belongings and lecture her on how it was wrong, but she knew that was impossible. Turning around, she could almost see him shaking his head, upset that she invaded his privacy and smiled. Walking over to the large wooden desk, she sat in her grandfather’s chair and silently cried, as tears gently rolled down her face. She knew she shouldn’t, but she couldn’t help it. She was going to miss him.

Sitting before her on his desk was a large manila envelope with her name on it. She didn’t need to know what was in the envelope. She already knew. It was all of her grandfather’s instructions, and knowing August De’Hon, he left nothing out. Picking up the heavy envelope, she cradled it in her shaking hands. She had made a promise and she would keep it. Wiping the tears away from her face, she opened the envelope, pulled out the contents, and started to read.

Dear Isadora,

I am sorry to lay all of this at your feet, but you, my beloved granddaughter, are the only person I can trust to ensure that all my wishes are attended to too. Within these documents, you will see that I have left all my worldly possessions to you. My instructions are simple and are laid out in triplicate. You have a copy, Mr. Roche has a copy, and the third is with someone else who can be trusted.

I want to be laid to rest at my family's plantation, Bella Darrow, in Darkwater Bay, for my journey into the afterlife. For that to happen, you will need to call Mr. Henri Foucher, in Darkwater Bay, Louisiana. Tell him that August De’Hon is dead. Mr. Foucher will make all the arrangements for my body. You will hand my body over to Mr. Foucher personally and walk away.

After my body is on its way to Louisiana, you need to call Mrs. Angela London, a realtor and she will help you sell the house. During this time, call Dobson’s Moving and Storage. I have arranged for all the belongings in the house to be stored until you find another place. If you don’t want anything, let Mr. Dobson knows and he will auction everything off.

Call Mr. Roche, my attorney, he will help you. He has been instructed to give you anything you need, anything at all. I trust him, Isadora, and he knows what needs to be done.

You will not be at my funeral, Isadora. I know this must pain you to read, but I don’t want you tainted with my past. Attending my funeral will subject you to people that have no right to ever know you. Please don’t be angry with me. Everything I’ve done in my life, I’ve done out of love to protect you. You, my beautiful granddaughter, mean more to me than all my worldly possessions. You are my treasure, my one true blessing, and I am ensuring that you live a happy life. Find a good man, Isadora, one who loves you and will respect you.

Live, marry, have many children, and on occasion, think of me.

August De’Hon



Isadora placed the handwritten letter on the desk before her and then scanned the remaining documents. She should have known her grandfather would leave nothing out. Every detail had already been taken care of. All she needed to do was make a few phone calls. As always, he made her life simple and easy. She could remember coming to her grandfather's on more than one occasion, worried about something. All she had to do was talk to her grandfather, he would listen to her troubles, then hug her and tell her not to worry, that all would be better in the morning and they were. Somehow, he managed to take away her worries and replace them with fond happy memories. Memories that she would have instead of a grandfather she loved dearly. Too bad those memories were all lies.

Picking up the phone, she dialed the unknown number written before her in her grandfather’s hand and waited for the ringing to stop. She didn’t have to wait long before a man with a thick Creole accent answered, “Foucher’s Funeral home.”

Taking a deep breath, she clearly said, “Hello. I’m calling about my grandfather, August De’Hon.”

Silence descended, then the man on the other line said, “Thank you for calling, Ms. De’Hon. Everything has already been taken care of. I will be there shortly to pick him up.”

“Thank you,” Isadora sniffed and then asked. “Is there anything else that I need to do?”

“No chère, your grandpapa took care of everything.”

“Okay,” she silently cried, trying to keep herself together. “When will you arrive?”

“I will be there shortly.”

“Oh, okay, then. Thank you.”

“He’s in a better place now, chère. You should celebrate, not mourn him. He wouldn’t want that.”

“No, he wouldn’t. Thank you, Mr. Foucher, goodbye.”

“Goodbye, chère.”

Hanging up the phone, Isadora cradled her head in her hands and cried, letting the fact that her life was forever more. Her grandfather was dead, and she was really alone. She had never been alone in her life before, yet the feeling of abandonment blanketed her heavy heart. Curling up in her grandfather’s chair, she sobbed, silently crying herself to sleep.

Isadora had no idea how long she had been asleep when a gentle hand tenderly shook her shoulders, “Ms. De’Hon?” Opening her eyes, Isadora looked up into a pair of warm brown eyes, which twinkled in the afternoon light. Sitting up, she stared at the man before her. He was handsome, like some old-time movie star from a time long forgotten. Dressed impeccably, down to the three-piece suit and shiny black shoes. His blonde hair glistened in the sun against his dark tan. He was stunning, more so than she. Wiping her eyes, she knew she must have looked a mess, but when he smiled at her, she smiled back. “I’m sorry.”

“There is no need to apologize, Ms. De’Hon. You have been through enough. My name is Justin Roche. I hope you don’t mind, but your butler called me when a man from Foucher’s Funeral Home showed up. I thought you’d like to say goodbye before he takes your grandfather.”

“Oh, already?” she asked, sitting up in the chair. “What time is it?”

“It’s a little after seven in the morning.”

“I can’t believe I slept here all night. Could you ask the man to wait a minute?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Getting up, Isadora stretched and quickly left her grandfather’s office, leaving the sharply-dressed attorney alone. She knew it was rude to ignore company, but she didn’t have a choice. She needed to make herself presentable and she couldn’t do that with someone in the room. Heading upstairs, she hastily made use of the bathroom and then changed into something befitting a granddaughter burying a loved one. Only she didn’t know what that was. Should she wear black? Could she wear a color? If so, what color? Deciding it was safer to go with what was known, Isadora grabbed a black silk shirt and her pinstripe black skirt. She may be ignorant when it came to the customs and rules of burying the dead, but she refused to shame her grandfather for not knowing what to wear.

After applying a bit of makeup, she pulled her long blonde hair back in a tight twist, then headed back downstairs, only to find the sharply dressed attorney talking with a man. Mr. Roche, she reminded herself… His name was Justin Roche.

“Ah, there she is,” Justin said, as the man standing next to him turned pale, backing away from her as she entered. Isadora stopped in her tracks, unsure how to proceed. Thank heavens for Mr. Roche, as he sharply, said, “Pierre. This is Isadora De’Hon, the deceased’s granddaughter.”

The man called Pierre violently shook his head, muttering, “Maudit soit, Maudit soit.”

Isadora, shocked, backed up until her back hit the wall of her grandfather’s study. She knew French. She studied it religiously all through high school and during college. She needed to know the language and many others for her degree in mythology. However, the words Pierre was saying were strange to her, because she didn’t understand why he was calling her ‘cursed’. However, she didn’t have time to respond before Mr. Roche rounded on the man. He, too, was talking in fluent French. Isadora’s mind reeled, as she tried to comprehend the conversation before her.

“I will not take him. Find another!”

“You have, too! Mr. Foucher is expecting Mr. De’Hon. Everything is already taken care of and paid for.”

“No.”

“What do you mean no? What do you expect us to do with his body?”

“Bury him here. She must not attend.” Before Isadora could intervene, Pierre hastily left the room, slamming the front door as he left. The conversation just minutes ago made no sense. The man seemed petrified to be in the same room as her. He never once took his eyes away from her. She didn’t understand his fear of her. She had never met the man before until now. Yet, she had a feeling the man had seen her before, but she couldn’t understand how. She had never been to Louisiana, not once. With the room now quiet, she looked over at Mr. Roche. “My grandfather’s body is expected at Bella Darrow in the morning. If Pierre won’t take him, then that only leaves me.”

“I’m sorry Ms. De’Hon, but you can’t. Your grandfather's will was explicit. You can’t attend his funeral. I will make other arrangements for his body to be shipped to Louisiana. This is why he hired me, in case something like this happened.”

“My grandfather knew this might happen?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“He didn’t tell me. I must go make some calls.”

Isadora didn’t know what was going on. All she knew was that she promised her grandfather that she would see to it that he was laid to rest at his family’s plantation, Bella Darrow in Darkwater Bay, Louisiana. She was going to keep that promise even if she had to take him herself. While Mr. Roche talked rapidly on his phone, Isadora sat at her grandfather’s desk and called Mr. Foucher. However, the second she said who was calling, the funeral home director, apologized, “I am so sorry Ms. De’Hon, but we will be unable to bring your grandfather back home. I am sorry for the inconvenience. There is nothing I can do. I suggest you call one of your local funeral homes and make other arrangements. You are not welcome here.”

The line went dead before she could utter a single word.