The sound of the sewing picked up again, and Adelaide was no longer conversing with Temperance, but began humming an old southern church rhyme, Temperance noted. One she had heard before sitting in the pews of her church with her mother. Adelaide had one foot on the treadle, and the other, still, on the concrete floor. Temperance walked over to her, but Adelaide did not look up, only continued to sew and hum.
The rush of something foreign went through her; slithering into her system like a potent drug.
"Adelaide," her voice grew higher and urgent now. "What did you say?"
The sewing continued, the strike of the needle colliding upon fabric buzzing loudly against her ears. Temperance placed her hand on Adelaide's shoulder, and then pulled it back quickly, feeling a numbing cold against her palm.
"Have you met him yet?" Adelaide inquired, her voice sounding disparate.
Temperance swallowed, taking an unsteady step backward. "Whom?"
"He watches... he waits..." She clucked her tongue several times, the small sound, eerie and odd.
Adelaide's head was hunched over the machine, her black eyes still centered on her work at hand. Her hands pushed the fabric through the needle faster now — carelessly and sloppily.
"Adelaide..." Temperance said, her voice drifting in diffused desperation.
Adelaide's head bobbed down like a puppet on a string, and then it slowly rose from its position. The sound of the needled ceased, causing the fabric to bunch in protest. She turned around on the stool, revealing eyes that were glazed over with bright shine. They were not the onyx ones Temperance had always looked into.
A small, low laugh escaped her. She tapped her hand on her right leg, and then began to rub it back and forth nervously; her long, unpolished nails scratching her thigh in a proactive manner.
"The one bound to you," she replied, cocking her head to the side.
Temperance shook her head, a tide of mystification gushing into her. Still holding the gown, she gathered it up and moved toward the door to the main store. Her feet were unsteady and shaky, like she was in a dream and unable to move at the pace she wanted.
"Adelaide," her voice was higher, more desperate. "What are you talking about?" She asked, moving closer to the exit, her shoes making light scuffing noises on the concrete floor.
Suddenly, the door to the backroom flew open and Violet stepped in, holding her gown up in a tribute to the designer gods.
"I've found the one, my friend." Violet twirled around, as if she were dancing with it. "This baby right here is going to land me some looks, let me tell you," her smile was wide, then suddenly realizing something was amiss, it ceased.
"Temp, what's the matter?" She walked forward looking at the dress Temperance was clutching tightly to her chest. "You don't like the dress?" Her voice sounding thoroughly disappointed.
Adelaide smiled to Temperance mischievously, and then she slowly turned back to her sewing, continuing on as if nothing ever occurred between them.
Temperance could barely speak, her throat felt constricted. "I haven't tried it on yet," she managed to say.
"Well, what are you waiting for?" She glanced at her watch. "I'll check out some accessories while you try that bad boy on."
"Okay," Temperance said, looking in the direction of Adelaide once again. "How about we ask Cherie to help us locate a mask?"
Violet nodded, thanking Adelaide over her shoulder as they both left the back room.
Temperance went into the dressing room and hastily tried on the dress. She did a quick check, front and back.
"You ladies ready?" She heard Cherie inquire. Temperance was satisfied, and quickly dressed. Opening the dressing room door, she saw Cherie standing with Violet, a measuring tape draped over her shoulder.
"That was fast," Cherie supplied.
Temperance smiled. "It looks good to me."
"We just need the masks then," Violet replied.
Cherie smiled. "Of course! It wouldn't be a ball without the concealment of who we are," she winked and nodded for them to follow. Violet and Temperance both were awed by the selection they were offered. Temperance wanted the deed done, so instead of drooling over the handiwork of the masks, she grabbed one that she thought looked like a perfect compliment and went to pay.
"Geez, you're like speed demon shopper," Violet said breathlessly, coming behind Temperance at the counter.
The word demon sent a stabbing gale of dread all over her skin. She felt the shivers rake up and down her back and arms like a branding iron.
She signed the credit card slip, grabbed her shopping bag, and said a quick bye to Cherie and left the boutique. Outside, she leaned on the store window for a moment, attempting to still the bile that was rising in her throat. She felt nauseous and clammy all over. Swallowing down the moisture in her mouth, she clinched her jaw, praying she wasn't going to be sick on the street in front of all these people.
The door opened and Violet exited with bags in hand. One look at Temperance and she knew something was not sitting well. "Alright, I'm not going to even ask right now. Let's get home."
"I feel sick," Temperance murmured.
Violet rummaged for a cinnamon mint in her handbag. "Here," she handed it to Temperance. "This will make you feel a little better."
They began walking, the sun giving a bit of healing power to Temperance. The sick feeling was fading just a hair, but the thoughts were making their mark again.
"Where is the book?" Violet stopped in the middle of the street, her eyes a bit wide.
Temperance tapped her large handbag. "Safe and sound."
"Do you want to stop somewhere and get a ginger ale or something?"
Temperance shook her head. "No. I'd rather get home and sort this out."
"Fine by me. I need you to be healthy for the ball for crying out loud." Violet and her made it to Temperance's car. They quickly loaded it and began their quick journey home.
"Because I'm not attending by myself," Violet added, shaking her head firmly. "That I can promise you."
She turned to Temperance, placing her hand behind her headrest. "You know, if we weren't the genuine awesome freaks that we are, I would have to convey that meeting angels is undeniably a rarity."
Temperance busted out laughing, and thankful for the distraction. "Well I guess the oddities attract the rarities."
Violet nodded. "How about we talk to mom about your visions over dinner," she took her cell out, scanning for emails, then looking at the main news page for Louisiana, she paused. She shook her head. "Oh my God," Violet voiced, scanning the screen to read more.
"What?" Temperance inquired, now pulling into her parking space in front of her home.
"There was vandalism in one of the Cities of the Dead last night."
"What happened?" Temperance asked, praying it wasn't the cemetery that was her mother's final resting place.
"It says that there were markings made on the above ground tombs," her eyebrow arched heavily. "There were several of the tombs defaced."
"Which cemetery?" Temperance felt the rise of panic set in, and her hands were already beginning to sweat on the steering wheel.
"St. Louis Cemetery," Violet responded regretfully.
Temperance gritted her teeth in disgust. "What did they do?"
Violet scanned her phone, thumbing through the page as quickly as she could. "It says that the symbol was an ancient one. That it's a ..." she paused, uncertain of the pronunciation.
"Chimera," she said, and then looked over to Temperance. "What's that?"
Temperance shook her head in uncertainty. "I have no idea."
"Well I bet that book of yours will give us a clue," Violet dug in Temperance's bag.
Authors Note:
Thank you so much for reading this chapter of How Deep the Roots Go. If you enjoyed it, it would be wonderful if you could vote. Feel free to leave comments as well. I answer every one. And last of all, if you follow me, you will find out right away when there are updates or new stories.
xoxo,
M