The Deadly Rose, page 16
part #1 of An Assassin's Tale Series
Grimo rolled away with great effort, putting distance between himself and the maniac pursuing him. He was soaked with his own blood and headed toward the window. He climbed out with his injured hand painting a path in his wake. He was sweating by the time he reached the ground. Millard Le Beast stood at the window laughing.
“This is not over. Run, mouse, run,” he laughed a long laugh. “You’re just a corpse on vacation. Don’t die before I finish you.”
Grimo heard the annoying laugh as he disappeared into the shadows of the bushes. He held pressure to his wound. Death always felt so sweet, sweet as the serenade of guitar and a rum-clouded mind. He felt himself losing his grip on life with every drip of blood. Millard Le Beast was now champion, two–nil, but he didn’t hear the cheers of the excited crowds. Why weren’t they cheering for Le Beast, he wondered.
Even in defeat he had the will to go on. If not for himself then for the few fans he had left, for Marie-Anne, and for his uncle. It was the same will that kept him alive so many years ago when he lay on a soccer field with a knife sticking out of his gut. This time, though, it felt different; it felt real. He slumbered like a drunkard on the way down the hillside into the chilly night.
###
Father Jean-Marie Lumier tossed in his bed. The rectory was made of cinder-block walls that made the building remain cool. The recent deaths and the stranger that startled him Wednesday night at the cathedral bothered him. He was sure it was the assassin. The one he read about in the papers that killed the senator and several soldiers. He was a little shaken with the idea he had come so close to death. And he was also bothered by the look he saw on Grimo Le Champion’s face. There was no mistaking it. He remembered that look on the neighborhood toughs before they set out to do something ungodly. He developed that same look before he stabbed that unfortunate boy so many years ago.
Though he tried to sleep, it came reluctantly. Prayer did not work this night, so he continued to twist and turn in the bed, struggling for a miser rest.
In between his battle with sleep, Father Lumier awakened to find a cold piece of metal against his neck. He was not sure if it was a nightmare until the blade’s owner pulled on his ear.
“I want to see your face as I carve you a smile. Turn on the lamp.”
The priest was speechless and did as he was told. Fear came naturally, but he started a mental prayer for God to spare him, calling on the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost. He had so much more to do. He had yet to repay his debt for his youthful indiscretions. Death always seemed to knock at the most inopportune time, and it was rarely the deceased’s hand that opened the door. What does this man want with me? he thought, though certain it was the assassin from the other night.
He reached over for a match to light the lamp. His hand was trembling, but his faith remained strong. Whichever way this night should end, he had faith in his Lord God, the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit.
Grimo looked at the priest with guile and lustful hate. This would be his last act before he shook hands with Ghede, god of the dead. His strength was rapidly waning. It was with sheer determination and madness that he made it this far. The bleeding to his arm had not stopped and he was turning pale. He could no longer stand and sat on the side of the small bed facing the priest.
“Do you recognize me?” he asked, pulling off his red bandana.
“No, I mean yes, from the other night.”
“Look closer.”
Father Lumier looked closely, and it finally dawned on him. Those eyes, you can’t change those eyes.
“You, Grimo, Le Champion.”
“You still don’t recognize me?”
“I just told you.”
“How about this knife I’m holding?” Grimo show it to the priest.
The priest looked down and there was no mistaking it. His childhood knife. The D for devil he had engraved on the grip was visible. He shuttered, then looked over to his desk and said, “Momma, I tried.”
Grimo looked over his shoulder and saw three pictures. One of the Mother Mary, one of a common-looking old woman, and the last one was the picture identical to the one that sat on the armoire in his room over the motorcycle garage. He dropped the knife, and his mouth dropped open as well, speechless. The tear dams broke.
“Who is that woman on the far end?”
“That is our savior, Gabrielle Gaston.”
“Where did you meet her?”
“She was in the Bahamas when we got there and helped us.”
Grimo felt the darkness gripping, pulling him in. “Where is she now?” Grimo said as he felt his body slump to the bed.
“She is with God. It’s only been a year now.”
“I will finally see her. Momma.”
Silence ensued and all was dark.
THE END
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Acknowledgments
Although it seemed I accomplished this on my own, I would be a hypocrite to not share the credit with the all mighty God. My mother Rose Marie Dorcely, Mommy Rose, the toughest Haitian mother in Brooklyn, who loves unconditionally. My dedicated and loving wife who kept me focused with honesty. My wonderful sons who fueled my motivation and discipline; Prentan, Ellijah, Sebastien, Sidney, and Denieson. My charitable sister Ordith Lominy who gives from the heart.
The selfless people who volunteered their time in helping me accomplish my dream. My editors Porscha Burke who lit the path to clarity and Alanna Boutin who is a master word smith. Cornelia Bouyea for her keen eyes locating those ever evasive words that were determined to force themselves on to the pages. Dr. Jean Beaudoin for his intelligence and willingness to take time away from his busy schedule. Watson Jean Baptiste who took time from work and family to look over my work.
Carmen Frobos for believing in me when my draft was just one page and for being one of my road warriors spreading the news. Bernice Mercer-Lewis for her friendship, humanity and godliness. Vincent Sims the best web designer money can buy. Vonda Howard for her artistic flair that produced a fabulous cover. Ella Curry for her infinite knowledge of the publishing industry. Jessica Tilles for her dedication, hard work, and skills on book structure. Sandra L. Jean and Elize Joseph of Georgia Haitian American Chamber of Commerce Inc. for their dedication to excellence and hard work by shining a light on all Haitian artists and businesses within the metro Atlanta.
To all of those who were willing to share their knowledge:
Olga Denise-Jocelyn, Kenya Cross, Gasser Joseph, Pam Cosper, Darlene M. Rogers, Alice McCray, Mark MacDowell, Jamillah Warner, Loojimps Marcius, Cassandra Wilson, Angela Drummond, Janet Hysenaj-Hoti, Daphne Demas-Grace, Sharlencia Lord, Michelle Gonsalves Persaud, Marie Cassandre Merizier, Rudy Pierre Paul, Tia Ross, Robert Sacco, Katia LaGuerre, Hajji Golightly, Billie Pellisier Walsh, Martin Van Lear, Larry Young and Tamara Baker.
Especially mentioned, Tracy Hickman Shelton, my first official sale. She purchased the book before it was completed. Thanks for your confidence in my abilities.
Additional Reading
Averill, Gage. A day for the hunter, a day for the prey popular music and power in Haiti. Chicago, Ill.: University of Chicago Press, 1997.
Bell, James Scott. Plot & structure: techniques and exercises for crafting a plot that grips readers from start to finish. Cincinnati, Ohio: Writer’s Digest Books, 2004.
Deren, Maya. Divine horsemen: the living gods of Haiti. New Paltz, NY: McPherson, 1983, 1953.
Gold, Herbert. Best nightmare on earth: a life in Haiti. New York: Prentice Hall Press, 1991.
Kawasaki, Guy, and Shawn Welch. APE, author, publisher, entrepreneur: how to publish a book. United States: Nononina Press, 2013.
Kopleck, Horst. Collins easy learning French dictionary. 2nd ed. Glasgow, Great Britain: HarperCollins, 2001.
McKee, Robert. Story: substance, structure, style and the principles of screenwriting. New York: ReganBooks, 1997.
Morrell, David. The successful novelist a lifetime of lessons about writing and publishing. Naperville, Ill.: Sourcebooks, 2008.
Poynter, Dan. Dan Poynter’s self-publishing manual: how to write, print and sell your own book. 16th ed. Santa Barbara, Calif.: Para Pub., 2007.
Rodman, Selden. Haiti: the Black Republic; the complete story and guide.. New York: Devin-Adair Co., 1954.
Strunk, William, and E. B. White. The Elements of style. 4rd ed. Boston (USA): Allyn and Bacon :, 1999.
J M Lominy, The Deadly Rose
