There's a girl who refused to travel the roads of the moon...
Vivienne graduated from high school a year and a half later.
Her parents were a little surprised when she announced she'd be pursuing a degree in Art History. When questioned about her choices, she answered: "I was only half asleep during Mr. Ronston's class." No one ever questioned her capabilities, but deep down, Gabe and Daria suspected that she put it all out there, just to get the best excuse to go globe-trotting.
And soon enough, she announced there was a chance to spend a year in Europe. Her arguments, were as usual, very persuasive. She went on about costs covered by scholarships, and not a lot of time to think things over.
Before she left, the possibilities of the house at Rue Renaud were discussed. She begged her parents not to get rid of the property in Baton Rouge during her absence. It was a force of habit request. The future of the Lombardi household had been settled three seconds after the storm receded, and Gabe and Daria saw their daughter come back through a portal. If any, that was the moment to run. They'd never get rid of it.
"It's always good to remember that the best followed the worst." That was her closing argument, and Viv was right.
After their little trial, the relationship between Viv and Daria took a one hundred and eighty-degree turn. Both women seemed to understand each other on a level they had never dreamed of. For the first time in years, Gabriel was getting used to the idea of simply being a father and a husband, not an arbitrator between skirmishes and misunderstandings. Armistice was declared on World War Girls.
When that initial year in Europe became two, and Viv announced she might not be coming back for summer break, Daria's drama returned with a vengeance. After all, she needed something to entertain herself with. Sure, they had taken roots and now worked as local realtors, but what's great about having time to make friends if one can't arrange a social life on behalf of an absentee daughter?
"Keep your princes, Daria." Viv would tell her over the phone. "No, I have no time to Zoom chat with your client's son, even if he does oil on canvas. Art history, remember? That way, I don't have to deal with every other guy with a color palette out there. Let's do something, bury him somewhere, dig him up in five hundred years, and I'll tell you if his technique is the stuff of legend."
Why deny it? They might have made up, and all, but having the last word on her mother still made her day. Life being all about those little instances of joy and undiluted satisfaction, as it goes.
Gabe was another matter. For a brief moment, he was her paladin, the keeper of all knowledge. Subsequently, he became a bench player when it came to all things magic. After the night of the storm, it was established that he had been but a bridge between generations. Yet, her intuition told her that her father might just find out what she was up to, had she not put an ocean between them.
As for Victor... It had been almost two years since the storm at Rue Renaud, and she could still fell that kiss upon her lips. Sweet, with an edge of danger, and so abruptly interrupted. But most of all, she remembered a conversation with a certain serpentine oracle, who proved to be an unrepentant romantic.
Wedo had visited her, knocking shyly at the door of her subconscious. In dreams, he told her of an idea that sounded as enticing as it was difficult to put to ask.
"There might be a way, but it won't be easssy," the boy suggested. And that was enough.
Victor could be bound back into his bones, if she were to neutralize the power of all the scattered pieces that comprised the Mother of Shadows.
"One down, five to go." Alone, in a roadside hostel near Arezzo in Tuscany, Vivienne began the ritual.
For months, he memorized the words, acted out the steps in his mind. For days, she avoided her friends, even her roommates, so they wouldn't notice how much she was paying for what she was about to do. Every single step she had taken for a year and a half had brought her to that crucial moment. Unrolling the sleeve of her sweatshirt, she lifted a silver dagger, and cut her forearm.
She concentrated on her blood, flowing into a silver plate covered in rose petals and weighted down by moonstones. She spoke the words, in the correct order, with the proper intonation: "Essence of life over rose petals and moonstone. I call out to the many daughters, sisters, and mothers of the pale moon above."
Hours passed, and she didn't give up on her task. The moon seemed unimpressed at her sacrifice, as it continued to travel the night sky.
"I'll come back tomorrow, and the day after that. You have no idea the stubborn stock you are dealing with." She shouted at the moon, now hidden behind the hills. And as she was about to turn, it happened.
"What do you require of us, Vivienne, whose path has strayed so far from home, so close to truth? Half a Lombardi witch you are, why should I listen? And be humble, girl. You summon the queen of your brethren. I speak for the moon, she'll listen to your plea. " The voice came to her from all that was touched by moonlight.
"Half a witch, you say?" Vivienne walked a short distance down the road, where the moonlight was at its brightest. Closing her eyes, she stretched out her hand and pulled with all her strength, forcing a figure out of the silver dust. A woman no older than herself, clad in blue garbs, looked at her with fascination.
"Who taught you that trick, cara mia?"
"My other half. The one that you shouldn't have dismissed. It's quite an interesting story." Vivienne winked. "The oracles of my ancestors have neutralized one sliver of The Mother of Shadows. If I were to find the other pieces of her soul and destroy them, she'd cease to be a stain upon our bloodline..." The elder Lombardi witch stood in silence, her face was a mask, while Vivienne continued. "Isn't that something, oh, eternal one. The so-called Mother of Shadows started being a daughter of the Lombardi clan. Your own dirty little secrets that went off the rails and ended decimating the best of your witches. I'm willing to stop her, and allow you to thrive, if only you were to guide me to the next sliver of her soul."
"I'll say we have a deal, if you were to tell me what you require in return." The moon sorceress had no other cards to play, no leverage in intimidation.
"I want my soldier boy back."
After the deal was struck, Vivienne found herself once more alone on the road. She couldn't wait to tell her silent partner what was achieved that night.
Kneeling, the witch traced upon the earth, coil after coil, the shape of a snake.
"Life," she mused, smiling in the dark. "One can always count on life to have other plans."
◇◆◇◇◆◇
It's Brigitte's world, we only live in it...
New Orleans
"And this," concluded the tour guide,"is the suspected tomb of the infamous Marie Laveau, who you might remember as interpreted by Angela Basset in AHS: Coven. Beneath the tomb you will see cigars, coins, alcohol, a variety of offerings. I assure you, that in my years I have come to see even pieces of fine jewelry." The guide shook her colored beads, getting a couple of laughs from the group. "This is the point where all stories begin. The iconic tomb of the City of the Dead. As you can see, the grave is covered with crosses and circles. The crosses represent favors asked, the circles, requests granted."
"And who claims these offerings?" Someone asked. "I'm seeing a fifty dollar bill and a silver chain right there. You're telling me someone's not making a buck out of this?"
"How rude, that's none of your business." As the tour guide looked around, she saw a young woman reclining in a neighboring vault. The woman told her to keep it quiet, as she walked towards the group in a pair of stilettos that outlined her shapely legs, made even longer by her short jeans. Her waist was exposed, the mounds of her breasts contained in a red bustier that matched the shade of her lips and nails.
Brigitte made her way through with the confidence of a star, to reach a bottle of spiced rum beneath the grave. "Care for a history lesson? A little drop of knowledge for your haunted tour? Pay attention. It will serve you well, beloved tourists. Offerings can be found everywhere, even in this here tomb, which, no offense, is not Marie's. Your tour guide has been lying longer than a no-legged dog! Ask for a refund on your way out."
She raised the bottle to her lips and offered the small crowd a crude gesture, trademark of her devil-may-care attitude, getting both cheers and jeers in return.
"Madames et Monsieurs, I've had enough of you. Leave the graveyard to the dead. Tsk, tsk. Fly!"
The Lady took a sip of alcohol and spat out a mixture of fire and blood.
Screaming and stampeding, the group exited Lafayette Cemetery as the sun set in the sky.
"Do you want to end up in a trending topic? Because that'sss exactly how you trend topic. That's how you end up a hashtag on TikTok" Wedo appeared, sitting atop of the concrete lining the Crypt, waiving a cellphone and staring at his sister menacingly.
"I've been trending since the 1700s, you are just starting to pay attention. Live a little, you cold, miserable, reptile! Now, take a swig. No one's looking and besides, you are old enough" The Lady passed the rum to her brother. His scaly hands clung to the bottle, as he took a quick drink. "Talking about living, how's your pet project doing? I can't believe you are doing this, after criticizing my revenants. Hypocrisy, your name is Wedo!"
"For starters, Victor Faraday is no revenant, Gigi. He wanted to return. And, besides, even if you deny it, whatever power isss left after we destroy the last piece of the Mother of Shadows will be yoursss, and you are living for it."
They entered the Crypt amidst their ongoing banter. In one of the rooms, there was a perfectly preserved semblance of a body starting to take shape over the bones that once had been Victor Faraday's.
"He's coming along fine. Do you know he dreams, Gigi? About her. That'sss how I know it will be alright. Dreams of life and hope vanquisssh the violence within."
"Why do I always get in trouble for being a hound dog, but you get home free for being a nosy matchmaker?" Brigitte's fingers shaped jazzy air quotes. "Don't bother. I don't need an answer..."
Deep in the Crypt, Victor Faraday dreams of the life Wedo rescued from his sister's clutches. Lying in his coffin, he holds in his hands an urn containing his heart, eager to begin to beat free from the Mother of Shadows' curse.
On the other side of the world, Vivienne waits for the moment to make up for lost time. Whenever she has a moment of peace, she opens her brand-new box. It contains beautiful memories, but there's always a place for more.
In Rue Renaud, the house listens, content, and agrees with Daria and Gabe's plans. The windows fill with light when they laugh, the corridors darken along with their worries, which are few.
The house breathes easy. Free from curses, it hopes once again to welcome everyone under its roof.
THE END?
A/N: Thank y'all for coming along the ride. Can you believe we made it to the ONC Long list? Ahhhhh!!! This has proven a great opportunity to develop ideas, hone skills, and meet amazing readers and writers along the way. Mission accomplished, I'll say.
As far as Vivienne and Co.: Things will stay as is. Eventually, I'll pick her up again, but so far, I hope you enjoyed the story and I'll see you around on the Dark Side of Wattpad! Much Love!
-Lynn