out, if only he was smart enough to find it. The rules she lived by said good and bad had to balance, they didn’t say it had to be easy. She grinned at Samuel’s barely moving body. “Remember, only a fool will walk free of this crypt.”
The girl’s nails left his wrist, and her hand took the ring from his palm.
“Maman ‘Vangeline,” he whispered.
“Yes, yes, I heard you.” She stood, her eyes drifting over the walls of the crypt, the ceiling with the ornate carvings and murals. “Enjoy your new… home,” she said, flitting her hand about. She laughed again, then she was gone.
Samuel lay on the cold, stone floor, trying to understand what curse the girl had placed upon him. As far as he could tell, he would be allowed to watch over Clarice, and to him, that was not a curse. Demons never did anything for anyone without a curse of some sort, the whole tit-for-tat thing. But it mattered not, it was done. And the girl would go to his mother, Maman ‘Vangeline, for what she thought was additional reward. His mother would see the ring and come to find his body. Or so he hoped. He closed his eyes, allowing the cold and the emptiness to encompass him where he lay.
Chapter 2
Clarice pounded on the door for what was surely the hundredth time since being locked away. Her father had delivered her to the home of their banker, Mr. Bienville. The man was short and rotund with a red face and bald pate. Though he was not unkind and had known her all her life, she would not have him. He was not her Samuel. She did not love him and never would. “Let me out!” Clarice screamed, pounding on the door again.
This time, finally, he answered her. “Child, stop your clamoring. There is no reason to fear. I will provide for you. Watch over you. You will want for nothing. Your father and I made arrangements long ago.”
Clarice refused to accept anything he had to say. “Let me out! I am already married! I will not be married to anyone else!”
Clarice's hands were bruised from pounding on the door for most of the night. But when he didn’t answer, she started up her pounding again despite the bruises. Her tears were a never ending stream of sorrow down her face, and she’d sobbed for so long that hiccups accompanied her begging to be set free.
She rested her head against the door. “Samuel,” she whispered, her eyes wandering to a window just beginning to show the dawn’s light through its mottled glass pane.
Clarice had been delivered in a near-hysterical state, screaming her hate at her father and demanding to be freed. Her lip trembled as she thought of the confrontation between the two.
“You will live the life I chose for you! You will be respected, you will learn your place and you will not cast aspersions upon my family name! You will not become a harlot, gifting your body to any piece of refuse who takes a fancy to it!” her father had shouted at her.
“He’s not a piece of refuse! He’s my husband, and I love him! We’re married! A union recognized by his church!” Clarice had screamed at her father.
Her father struck her so hard he knocked her to the floor, then leaned over and spat in her face as he glared at her hatefully. “You cannot be married to a dead man!”
Clarice’s eyes grew wide and she screamed her heartache as she fell apart, having no doubt at all that her father had harmed Samuel.
To his credit, Mr. Bienville had stepped quickly to stand before Clarice when her father had moved to strike her again. “There is no reason for violence. The girl mourns. Give her time to come to terms with her new future. All will be well.”
“Lock her away behind a heavy door to wait out her hysteria. She will recover from her bout of hysteria soon enough. If not, perhaps you should beat it out of her,” her father had instructed Mr. Bienville before storming from Mr. Bienville’s home and slamming the door behind himself.
Mr. Bienville called his manservant to assist him in lifting her from her collapsed position on the floor of his home. Together they moved her to the rooms his late wife formerly occupied. The rooms were quite comfortable and decorated in silks, velvets, and satins. “You will be happy here, my dear,” he said as he