The Tempting: Seducing the Nephilim. D. M. Pratt

read passages from some of the letters she found to Philip while he nursed or when he was falling asleep, sharing with him the names of his six times great grandmother and grandfather, aunts and uncles, cousins and on and on and their trials and tribulations, triumphs and joys. There were letters that detailed how many of their children had died, some as stillborn babies, some killed by raiders, pirates and Native Americans attempting to re-claim the land stolen from them. Some of their children were lost in the American Revolution and some of the next generation in the War of 1812. Then, there were years of peace: weddings, births, deaths, until mother nature intervened and brought droughts that destroyed the cotton and food crops and then, when things looked their blackest, kindly gave them long periods of abundance once more. They bought more land and in hard times sold thousands of acres. The Yellow Fever in 1830 and then again in 1850 took so many sons and daughters, mothers and fathers. Eve could see the tears Suzette, a pale-skinned, fair-haired slip of a girl, wept as she wrote. Suzette’s tears dried deep into the page, smudging the ox blood ink and leaving tiny concentric circles splattered like raindrops: sad stains etched by time onto the page forever. Eve brushed her fingers across the sepia-colored paper. She could feel the kindred soul of the young woman they once belonged to sadly watching those she loved die of the fever and being left behind, cursed to live and carry the family name with her brother and sons. Suzette said in one letter she accepted the burden of what she had taken on when she married into the Gregoire family, but she learned about the truth too late to change what had been destined.

      “Had been destined,” Eve whispered to herself, pondering the meaning as she ran her fingers across the words.

      Beau and Cora insisted she keep her focus on the job at hand and again Eve promised, but Eve found herself compelled to return to the attics and dig through the dust-covered past every chance she could get. There were answers there to questions she wasn’t sure how to ask, but her journalistic mind drove her along with the whispers and images that haunted her thoughts. It seemed to her that being in the attic and digging through the past quelled the dreams as if to say, we will be still if you keep looking for the truth.

      The central attic held memorabilia left from the Civil War. The war claimed the lives of Maurice De Cuire Gregoire and four of his seven sons. A tattered piece of the red, white and blue stripes and stars of a flag, the thread-worn fabric faded and frayed, made Eve realize that two of the brothers had fought on the side of the North. One son and one daughter were all who were left to his wife Claudette. She, with her two children, picked up the pieces of the remaining lands and spoiled crops and rebuilt. They survived, lifted their heads, and carried the Gregoire name into the future. Maurice had saved them by opening bank accounts in the North. When the South fell and the Confederate dollar became worthless, Claudette loaded her eldest living son into a buggy, rode to New Orleans, caught the paddle ferry up the Mississippi River, and finally boarded a train to New York to retrieve their northern cash, which would allow them to rebuild, buy seeds and land and pay workers.

      The attics held many other wonders: old clothes, hats, paintings, and photo albums with tintypes and black-and-white photos of happy times, trips to Europe, China and Egypt. An entire album was dedicated to a safari in Africa with too many pictures of dead elephants and lions. That cruelty had made her put the books away and stay out of the attic for weeks. But one cool day she found herself in the west attic amid remnants from the First World War, the Great Depression, and the Second World War.

      Over the centuries the Gregoire family had also known a few scandals. The most interesting she found in the north wing’s attic. The greatest scandal of them all involved Beau’s grandfather and the Le Masters side of the family. From the letters Eve found in the north attic, buried in a pile of papers stuffed into an old wood and silver letter box, she learned that none of the Le Masters were liked. In fact, they were downright hated.

      Millard made numerous attempts to come by with gifts for his grandson, flowers for Eve and heartfelt peace offerings for Beau, but as their legal case became more and more tangled Beau finally asked him to stay away. He’d screwed things up so royally it would take an army of attorneys and a small fortune to undo what Millard had done. Eventually Millard stopped trying. The last gift he sent Philip was a little, sterling silver bracelet that looked as if it had been in the Le Masters family. Beau told Eve to please send it back. Instead she placed it in a cedar keepsake box and hoped for better times and forgiveness.

      She’d brought some of the more current photo and picture albums downstairs to share with Beau. Again that flash of anger clouded his usually tranquil blue eyes as once again she explained her need to know him and his family because she had no history of her own. Beau stared at the books for a long time before he released a long sigh and crossed to sit next to her.

      “I won’t do this if it pains you, Beau,” Eve said.

      “Yes you will,” he said with a sad smile. “You’ll do it until you understand whatever it is you’re looking for in my family’s history. So, perhaps if I can help you find it we can let this all go and move on with our lives. I need you to be okay and comfortable with who you’re marrying and all that comes with it. So open the pages and ask me what you want. I’ll do my best to answer,” Beau said. “If you don’t trust me completely, this won’t work.”

      Eve looked at him to understand the subtext of his words. He’d agreed so she opened the first album.

      She’d found the photos from the seventies and eighties when Beau’s mother, father and younger sister were still alive. They looked to be a very happy family. Until his sister’s death in an odd accident Beau described as “the fall,” they had been happy. Then time seemed to stop. There were no more pictures of birthdays, holidays, trips or happy occasions. He told Eve the loss of his younger sister left a dark cloud over the house that sucked the joy out of everyone and everything - especially the Gregoire home.

      Then, even more mysteriously, soon after that dark time of his sister’s accident, Beau’s parents’ unexpectedly died in a car accident. Their deaths killed the heart of the house and made living there unbearable. Beau’s grandfather, Millard, who’d never been welcome when his parents were alive, stepped in to raise him. They looked at a few snapshots of a sad little boy of twelve being sent off to Europe to attend a prestigious boarding school in Switzerland. From there only a few awkward shots at Beau’s graduations, both from high school and then from Oxford University were stuck into the pages of his high school year book. His grandfather was there, but the pictures were clear evidence of the distance that loomed between them; never touching or even standing too close, like a sharp knife cut the air between them. In every picture Beau kept his distance, obviously wanting no part of his past or the vast fortune he’d been bequeathed by his parents or his Grandfather, Millard Le Masters.

      After University, Beau told her how he’d traveled and worked in Europe until one day he just walked away. He vanished for eight years exploring Africa, New Zealand and South America. Until a letter from Beau’s oldest and dearest friend, Augustus Valentine Lafayette the fourth, aka A.V. came with the knowledge that the family estate, the only home Beau’d ever known, was about to be lost to him. A.V.’s letter convinced Beau to give up his freedom and come home. Beau explained to Eve that he’d called A.V. and together they called the estate’s lead attorney. Lincoln Bryant, senior most partner of the prestigious law firm and Beau’s father’s friend and attorney, told him he’d all but lost everything because he’d been declared dead by his only living relative, his grandfather so he’d better get his ass back to New Orleans. Mister Bryant and A.V. started the paper work to raise Beau from the dead, but his presence would be needed in court as proof of life.

      “That’s when I came back,” Beau said, explaining that he’d told no one except A.V. he was returning. Unannounced, he arrived at his family’s mansion the afternoon of that fateful summer night they’d met. He’d come home, gone into his old room, uncovered the dresser and bed, crawled under the covers and fallen asleep.

      “When I woke it was dark and the party was in full swing. I showered and dressed, remembering only then A.V.’s letter said the house was being used for a gala to raise money for the Southern Belles Charity.”

      “A.V. Lafayette adores you,” Eve added.

      “He’s