A beautiful liar
Chapter 1: A Beautiful Liar
In the small town of Gasparee, the heat didn’t come just from the sun. It curled up from the asphalt, shimmered against the pastel walls of colonial buildings, and clung to the skin like breath. The island pulsed with old rhythms, ones that the living forgot but the eternal still danced to. Solène Rousseau walked through it all like she was born of smoke—graceful, measured, untouchable.
Her heels tapped against the cracked sidewalk as she approached the modest yellow courthouse. She had dressed carefully: a white blouse tucked into a crimson pencil skirt, her gold accessories subtle but expensive. She knew how to be seen. Men turned to watch. Women tried not to. And no one noticed the slight limp she hid—an old habit from a foot that was not quite human.
Inside, the air conditioning worked too hard and smelled faintly of mildew. Solène offered a tight smile to the bailiff and passed through security. She was expected. Family Court, Room 2. Another custody battle. Another unfaithful husband to dismantle.
The client was already seated. Camille Arindell. Late twenties, eyes puffy from crying, ringless hand twisting nervously in her lap. Solène sat beside her and opened her leather portfolio.
"He’s not showing up again," Camille whispered.
"Then you win by default. But don’t relax yet. Judges like effort. You’ll say you tried to co-parent, and he made it impossible."
Camille nodded. Solène straightened her spine, her voice lowering as she added, "And if he shows up, I’ll destroy him anyway."
The hearing was brief. The husband, Joel Arindell, arrived fifteen minutes late, smelling of cologne and rum. He swaggered in like he owned the courtroom and left ten minutes later with his visitation rights suspended and his finances exposed. Camille looked stunned. Solène simply packed her things.
Outside, the sun struck again. Camille clutched her hand. "Thank you. I didn’t think anyone would fight for me."
Solène smiled. Not kindly. More like a cat who’d just cleaned its paws. "He’ll get what he deserves."
That evening, the streets of Port of Spain bloomed with life. Carnival was months away, but the city never really slept. Steelpan melodies drifted through the air. Food carts sent the scent of roasted honey nuts into the breeze. Solène moved through the city like a blade through silk. No longer the lawyer. Not quite the legend. Something in between.
She saw him before he saw her. Joel. Same cologne. Same arrogance. A new girl on his arm, barely out of her teens. He leaned in, whispering into the girl's ear. She laughed, too loudly. Solène stepped into the glow of a flickering streetlight.
He noticed. He always did.
"Evening," he called. "Didn’t recognize you out of your battle gear."
"You look busy," she said, her voice velvet-wrapped steel.
He chuckled. "Camille send you to spy on me?"
"Camille doesn’t know what I am."
He blinked. "What?"
Solène stepped closer. The girl drifted off toward a food cart, distracted. Joel smiled, thinking this was a flirtation. "You really trying to make me regret that custody hearing?"
"Oh, you will."
She leaned in, brushing her lips against his ear. Her breath was hot, scented like hibiscus and something older. Something wrong.
"You’re not the first," she whispered. "And you won’t be the last."
She turned and walked into the alley beside him. Joel hesitated, caught between curiosity and that primal male arrogance that told him he was invincible. He followed.
The alley twisted like something out of a fever dream and the strong odour of stale urine permeated the air. Solène was no longer smiling. Her glamour faded in layers: skin too smooth, eyes too gold, shadows clinging where light should be. She walked ahead, unhurried.
"Wait," Joel said. "What’s happening?"
Her heel clicked. Once. Twice. Then the soft thud of a hoof.
He stumbled. "What the—?"
Solène turned, and for a moment, she was monstrous. Her eyes burned like coals. Her lips darkened to a plum-black. The air around her buzzed with heat.
"You waste women," she said. "You throw away children."
He backed up, heart racing with terror, "You’re crazy."
She tilted her head. "No. I’m judgment."
She kissed him. It was brief, but excruciating. All his misdeeds flashed before his eyes in the last few seconds of his life. His body arched once, then fell limp. His soul? That wasn’t hers to judge. But the pain he caused? That debt was paid.
By dawn, Joel Arindell was found slumped in the alley, heart stopped. No marks. No wounds. The newspapers called it sudden cardiac arrest.
Solène, sipping her coffee across the city, smiled into her cup.
Just another day.
Just another man.
But change was coming.
She felt it in her bones.
She just didn’t know yet that this time, it would be her own heart on the line.
---
Across town, in a second-floor apartment above a herbal shop, a man stirred dried leaves into boiling water and whispered names into steam. Malakai Joseph—pharmacist by day, something else by night—watched the vapors twist. His hand hovered over a photograph: Solène’s face clipped from a newspaper article about a recent legal victory.
He smiled.
It was time.
He reached for the vial he had prepared the night before. A simple love charm. Not powerful. Just a push. A nudge. Enough to open the door.
"You’ll love me," he murmured to the photo. "And I won’t even have to lie."
He poured the potion into a tinted bottle, sealed it with a kiss, and set it aside.
Outside, the night hummed with old things waking up.
And the island exhaled magic into the dark.
Malakai didn’t always use charms. Most of his customers came for real medicine—blood pressure pills, antibiotics, vitamins. His pharmacy served the entire Belmont district. Elders called him a blessing. Children liked his quiet, serious voice. Their mothers liked his jawline. But at night, behind the curtain of incense and polished glass, he was something else entirely.
His shop, Kalaloo Remedies, was his cover and his altar. The back room held jars of dried roots, obsidian stones, bat bones, and river water from the Caura. Names were written on paper slips and folded into mirrors. He kept a tin of fingernail clippings beneath the floorboards. He believed in precision. Magic was not a performance—it was chemistry wrapped in devotion.
The name Solène had lingered in his thoughts for weeks. She was beautiful, yes. But more than that, she carried something he couldn’t name—like a scent he almost remembered. She wasn’t just alluring. She was familiar.
It had been weeks since his client, Camille, had told him all about her and showed him her image- she had made a special order for her. He’d observed Solène going in and out of the court building multiple times since then, hoping for a chance to get a missing ingredient for his own use.
His grandmother had warned him once, before she passed: "Be careful with beauty that doesn’t blink right."
Still, here he was. Mixing spells.
Malakai scribbled a protective sigil on the inside of the bottle’s label and slipped it into his satchel. He had a plan. He’d meet her, offer her a vitamin drink with just the tiniest drop. Nothing heavy. Just a coaxing. Just to make sure her heart tilted the way his already had.
Outside, a stray dog barked once, and the lights flickered. He ignored it.
Tomorrow, he’d visit the courthouse. On some excuse.
Just to meet her.
Just to feel if the air around her was as electric as he imagined.
The game had begun.
He just didn’t know she’d already played it longer than he’d been alive.
