Seven Graves of Evil

Dedication

Without the love and support of my family and friends, I would not have pursued this new path in life.  I would especially like to thank those that have proofread copy after copy, to give me their honest opinion of the books. 

Theresa, thank you so much for your continued encouragement.  Without you, some of the characters would not have come to life.

To my wonderful husband, Mat, your continued love and support mean the world to me.  I don’t know what I would do without you in my life.  One of these nights I’m sure you will be able to sleep with both eyes closed.  Eventually, I should run out of ideas... or maybe not.  These books wouldn’t be what they are without you pushing me forward. 

To my fans, I would like to offer a special thank you for your continued support. 

This book is a work of fiction.  Names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination and are used fictitiously.  Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or places are entirely coincidental. 

This book has been professionally edited by Little House of Edits and proofed by Proofreading by Katie.

Copyright © 2017 by Mary Reason Theriot

Also Available by Mary Reason Theriot:

The Hideaway

The Traveler

Dr. Frankenstein

Above Suspicion

Horror in the Night

Echoes on the Bayou

Seven Deadly Sins

A Kiss So Deadly

A Deadly Combination

Seduced by Voodoo

CarnEvil of Souls

Redemption

Haunted Visions

Love’s Embrace

Secrets

www.maryreasontheriot.com

Prologue

Paul Fontaine walked into his son’s room, Come on, son.  It’s time.

Gerald rubbed his eyes, groggy from being woken so early, Time?  Time for what dad?

Smiling, I have a surprise for you.  It’s in my workshop.

Paul grinned when his son immediately perked up.  Until now, his workshop had been forbidden to his son, and especially his wife.  But Gerald was turning ten this year, and it was time for him to learn what made the Fontaine family so special – and why this plantation must stay in the Fontaine family.

While they walked under the moonlight to the workshop, Paul explained, Harold Fontaine, III started this tradition generations ago.  But, you must remember, everything we do and say can never be talked about to ANYONE.  This is a tradition that must never be revealed.

What is it dad?

You will soon find out.

Once they were safely in the workshop, Paul handed Gerald a knife, It is time for you to become a man, son.

Gerald looked at the knife bewildered. What is this for dad?

Paul led his son to the table he had previously prepared for this special day, and removed the sheet covering their ‘guest’.  It is time for you to learn what makes us so special.

Chapter 1

August 29, 1864

It was a hot and muggy summer night.  The plantation was quiet as darkness enveloped the grounds.  Aurora Fontaine feigned sleep next to her husband, Harold Fontaine, III.  Soon she would meet her lover in the garden.  She had a special gift for him.  Something she bought in New Orleans, something she had managed to keep hidden from her prying husband’s eyes. 

As she slipped out from under the covers, her husband grabbed her arm in a firm grasp, Where do you think you are going, my wife?

Aurora had not expected her husband to wake up.  She assumed she had given him more than enough of the potion the traiteur had sold her, I can’t sleep, my love.  Kissing his forehead, she stated, Go back to sleep.

He stared at her with a red, angry face, No, cher, I know where you are going.  How dare you dishonor my name by spreading your legs for that man!  It is a disgrace!  Spittle landed on her face as he spoke with venomous rage.  She had never seen him this angry.

I will see you and your lover burn in hell before I allow you to leave this room once more.  With a sinister sneer, he pinned Aurora underneath him, "Instead you will give me what you so freely give another man."

HAROLD FONTAINE WATCHED the tears flow down his wife’s cheeks.  A burning fury overwhelmed him.  Raising his right hand, he slapped her hard across the left side of her face.  How had his life come to this?  He had been born the son of a French immigrant father and a genteel Englishwoman with a hefty dowry.  When Harold was five, his parents had mapped out his future by arranging a marriage to the daughter of one of his mother’s best friends.  A family who held the same standing in this community as the Fontaines. 

As a wedding present to the couple, his parents had ordered the construction of this impressive house on the bayou of the Mississippi River here in central Louisiana.  Wooded swamps, sugar cane fields, cypress and gum trees surrounded the picturesque southern plantation, along with large live oak trees dripping with Spanish moss.  Duck and deer were plentiful in this particular area.  The most reliable source of transportation was a flatboat that could travel along the waterways and bayous that snaked through the area. 

While Harold had been pleased with the arranged marriage and the new house, he had not known that his beloved wife had already given her heart to another man.  As the years passed and Harold Fontaine accumulated more wealth and expanded his properties, he failed to notice his wife’s indiscretions. 

With each passing year, she had managed to keep her love affair secret while Harold became even more prominent in the community.  Harold became obsessed with flaunting his wealth and started hosting parties after Sunday mass.  The men gathered in the parlor after dinner to discuss crops, weather, and politics.  The impending war with the North was on everyone’s tongues.  The men drank their bourbon whiskey and smoked cigars, while the women sat in the smaller parlor sipping their brandy and gossiping about the latest news around town. 

If invited to a dinner party hosted by Harold Fontaine, word soon spread that it would be wise not to decline the invitation.  Harold was a man not to be disrespected or trifled with. 

It had been by pure misfortune that Harold had learned about his wife’s affair.  A slave had run away and Harold had stumbled upon the lovers tryst by chance.  They were so caught up in the throes of passion that they never heard Harold approaching.  At first, Harold wanted to murder both adulterers immediately, but soon thought better of it.  He would punish his wife first, before handing out his own brand of justice to her secret lover. 

Chapter 2

Aurora could not live one more day without seeing her lover.  When she spiked Harold’s drink at supper, she gave him double what the old traiteur woman had told her.  This time, he should sleep until morning. 

Shimmering waves of soft moonlight shined down on the bayou as she made her way to their secret rendezvous spot.  The humid air had her clothes clinging to her. 

The swamp was alive with nocturnal creatures.  She cringed in fear as a snake slithered up the tree and curled itself around a thick limb as it searched for prey.  Up ahead, a nutria rat hastily scurried into its home, not wanting to be the snake’s supper.  The crickets mating song filled the night as they called out for their mates. 

It was dangerous to meet her lover, but she needed to see him.  If Harold did discover them, it would be the end of both of their lives. 

Aurora could barely contain her excitement as she slipped deeper into the night.  Her heart pounded in her ears.  She bit down on her bottom lip, trying to calm her nerves.  Her eyes were sharp and alert, watching in case Harold had feigned sleep and was tracking her.  An eternity had passed since she last saw her lover.  She prayed he received the message and was waiting for her. 

Beads of perspiration slowly made their way down her body.  The stress of what she was doing would not dampen her mood.  They may be forced to keep their love hidden, but their brief time together was pure heaven to her.  Yes, their interactions were forbidden, but she would do anything for Grayson Manning. 

She quickened her steps as she rushed to see her one true love.  A chorus of night sounds urged her on.  The discordant voices of frogs croaking confirmed the bayou was nearby.  A splash sounded in the distance as an alligator slipped into the murky water.  She was close to her destination.

The full moon hanging high overhead helped to light her way.  Its silvery light danced across the water.   

As soon as she saw Grayson, she leapt into his waiting arms.  His calloused hands felt exquisite against her smooth skin.  She looked deeply into his eyes and felt his love for her flow like a current into her soul. 

Aurora whispered to her secret lover, Grayson...

No.  Don’t say it.

Her eyes glittered with unspent tears, I had to see you.  My husband has been incorrigible.

Silencing her with a finger to her lips, Hush now.  You and I will run away together.  You are the only woman for me.  I am a slave to your love.

Trying to stay strong, she informed him, No, we mustn’t run away together.  Harold would come after us and he would most certainly kill you.  I cannot bear the thought of you dying, my love.

I am nothing without you cher.  We will find a place for us to love each other freely, far away from your husband.

Aurora looked deep into his eyes and shook her head, You are too much of a romantic.  We can never be together as long as Harold is alive.  Holding back a shudder of fear, Besides, his actions lately have given me cause for concern.

You cannot live in that house any longer, we must leave.

No, not yet.  It is too dangerous.

Chapter 3

1990

Vivian clasped her hand over her mouth and scurried backwards, trying not to make a noise.  She found it hard to believe the repulsive sight in front of her.  This could not be the man she loved, the man whose children she wanted to bear, doing this horrid act.  Mon dieu.  Please tell me that this isn’t so.

When she had followed him down here, she had feared she would catch him with another woman – but not like this.  This was something no one would ever fathom a loved one capable of doing. 

Frantic, she rushed up the stairs.  Her heart felt as though it was pounding its way out of her chest.  Fear pulsated through her bloodstream.  Was this his first victim?  Or worse, has this been a pastime of his, and if so for how long?  Regardless of the answer, she must stop him.  She cannot let this happen to another woman.  But how?  She had to find a way. 

As she entered the house, the grandfather clock’s ticking seemed to reverberate off the walls, as if it were counting down the seconds of her life.  For now, she must remain calm – until she had a plan.  She rushed up the stairs, holding onto the banner for support.  Looking down the stairs behind her, she grimaced.  She no longer saw the home she had loved, but instead she saw a house of horrors.  The flickering light of the lamps gave off an eerie glow to the downstairs.  For a moment, she swore she saw images of dismembered women walking out of the shadows and coming towards her.  Their images plagued her thoughts. 

Help us!  Please help us. they called out.

Tears pooled in her eyes.  Her throat closed as an overwhelming sadness consumed her.  Shaking her head, she told herself that now was not the time to give in to self-pity – nor fear.  No, she must stay calm and outwit him.  She would put an end to this. 

Once in her bedroom, she quickly dressed for bed and climbed under the covers.  The sound of his heavy footsteps on the stairs made her skin crawl.  Her heart thudded loudly as she feigned sleep.  There was no way she could pretend she did not know forever.  No, she would have to end his life and soon.

Chapter 4

Present Day

Weeks had passed since Nicki Brady had discovered the old plantation.  Now, she had to wait for the closing date.  She had purchased Rosewood Plantation.  Merely saying the word plantation summoned up images of oak lined drives, women drinking mint juleps on vast front porches, and massive homes framed with white columns.

Her mom, or her friends for that matter, could not believe that she had bought the old plantation.  But she did.  The house was hers, for better or worse. 

When the realtor called, joy and panic had overwhelmed her all at once.  She never thought the offer would be accepted.  But it had!  She had actually bought a piece of history, and was about to go down a new path, one that would be a veritable journey through time.  Perhaps this would be the perfect tonic that she needed to soothe her dispirited soul.  When she saw the ad, it had beckoned her and she became swept away by the home’s underlying beauty. 

She could not believe that she had done something like this.  This was something Tom would do, not her.  Yet she did it.  She was really going to renovate an old plantation.  She would see that one of Tom’s dreams would be fulfilled. 

Besides, it was time to move forward and living here was a continuous reminder of Tom.  Everywhere she looked, all she saw was Tom.  When she saw young couples smiling at each other, their happiness and energy, Nicki felt a gut-wrenching pain in her heart.  But, perhaps that was better than feeling numb. 

Even though she had prepared herself mentally for Tom’s death, emotionally it had taken a toll on her.  These last few years she had been living in a whirlpool, spinning round, and round but not going anywhere. 

After his death, she had a difficult time deciding what to do with her life.  She kept waiting for him to walk through the front door, as if these last few years had never happened.  She could no longer live in the house that they had shared; it was time to move on.  A part of her ached at the thought of leaving, though.  She thought she had married the man she would grow old with, have his children, but instead she buried the one man who had made her feel alive and loved. 

Cancer was a cruel disease, one that she had been helpless to fight against. 

Chapter 5

Jake Mayon busied himself around the old plantation.  There was still so much to do before the new owner would arrive.  The chores tended to be endless here.  The house was quickly deteriorating.  The old hardwood floors creaked as he worked. 

Stepping out onto the back porch, he stared out into the vast expanse of grounds that made up Rosewood Plantation.  A part of him would miss working here.  Hell, he had practically grown up here.  Although these last few years had been more to keep Mrs. Fontaine company rather than to work.  In all honesty, he had not minded spending time with Mrs. Fontaine.  She had passed on interesting bits and pieces of local history and even talked about the history of her plantation.  It was a shame that she did not have any children to pass this legacy on to; she would have made a great mother.  Mrs. Fontaine was a true sweetheart and a loving person. 

After listening to her stories, he understood more about the woman, and the struggles the family had gone through to keep the house.  Through it all, the Fontaine family had managed to hang on to the plantation. 

As he walked towards the bayou, he could smell the murky waters.  The sound of birds chirping created a peaceful setting today.  Yet ever since he was a child, he had feared venturing into these woods unarmed.  Not only was there the countless number of snakes hiding and waiting for the perfect time to slither up your leg and bite you, but there were other creatures rumored to live in this part of the bayou as well. 

The hairs on the back of his neck rose.  He thought he heard something moving, but the woods were too dense to make anything out. 

A breeze blew through the trees and he thought he heard a moan.  Perhaps it could be from the ghosts of those long since passed.  There had been rumors that Harold Fontaine III had killed his wife and hid her body somewhere on the property.  The story went that she was leaving him for a lover.  Could it be that Aurora Fontaine’s spirit inhabited these woods?

Turning back toward the plantation, the sound of a branch being broken caught his attention.  It was as if someone had stepped on it.  But, then again, it could have been an animal moving about.  Whatever it was, he had no intention of finding out what had made the noise. 

His grandfather used to tell him stories about a rougarou that roamed these woods.  A while back, several men fishing in the bayou swore something threw large rocks at their boat.  Then a loud piercing shriek echoed through the air.  It did not take the men long to leave and vow never to return. 

Recently, a few had claimed to have seen a large, hairy creature lurking about.  As a kid, he had sworn that something lived in the swamp. 

When the noise sounded again, he glanced over his shoulder to see if someone was following him.  As he entered the house, the quietness surrounded him.  The sound of his footsteps bounced off the walls. 

While he finished his chores, he noticed something seemed different about the house.  He could not quite place it, but something was off.  Perhaps it was his imagination playing tricks on him.  Or was the house threatening to reveal its secrets – secrets that were best left untold.

Chapter 6

He eased the bateau through the murky water, observing the area before guiding the old boat to land.  He hastily hid the boat underneath an ancient, moss covered, oak tree limb. 

Before continuing any further, he listened for any tell tale signs of visitors.  After being satisfied that the only creatures nearby were of the woodland variety, he silently moved down the leaf hidden path that would bring him to his destination.

Upon reaching the hidden doorway, he again checked to ensure he was alone.  Once certain, he opened the door and quickly climbed down the rickety ladder.  While it would have been easier to enter through the house, he couldn’t risk someone being there.  Silently, he cursed his misfortune once more.

His first stroke of bad luck had been when Mr. Fontaine had died.  Mr. Fontaine had taken him on as an apprentice while he was a young boy.  Neither of them had known that Mr. Fontaine’s time here on this earth would be short lived.  While he had been a good student and learned from his mentor, he had been too young at the time to take over his actual work.  But thankfully he had found the journals, which explained in detail their joyous work. 

So until he had reached an age where he could take over where Mr. Fontaine had abruptly stopped, he had studied – and dreamed.  Oh, how he had dreamed and fantasized!

He would always be grateful that Mr. Fontaine had seen that potential in him, and brought him on as an apprentice.  Mr. Fontaine had given him a reason for living – and for visiting Rosewood Plantation.  If it had not been for Mr. Fontaine, his frequent trips over here would have been pure misery. 

According to Mr. Fontaine, when Harold Fontaine, III had started this profession, he had sought out those who were new to the city.  He invited them in and gave them a place to stay, especially those who didn’t have the money for a decent place.  They sought out those who would not be missed. 

It was while experimenting with one particular guest that he had discovered watching her bleed to death had been particularly stimulating.  But, he soon had realized he needed a way to easily dispose of what had remained of the body.  This is when he began dismemberment. 

But it was Harold Fontaine, IV, that had discovered the pleasurable experiences of dismembering a guest while they were alive.  He was the true visionary and had passed on that legacy. 

Once on firm ground in the hidden chamber, he took out his flashlight, turned it on and surveyed the room.  He desperately missed the time spent in this room.  If only that old biddy had done as he had requested and given him the house.  But she had said that she didn’t want to burden him with such a curse.  She actually thought she was doing him a favor by selling this beloved place. 

In the corners of the room, shadows began to take shape.  Perfect.  I know you are here.  I can feel your presence in the air.

He waited as each shadow took the shape of a man.  I need your help.  I have failed.  The house has been sold.  I will no longer be able to continue our work here.

A low growling resonated from the apparitions, "Enough.  I had no way of knowing that she would sell the house.  But we managed to scare away Mrs. Fontaine, so we should be