Horror on Royal Street

But one night, Aimee had heard Mignot wailing in terror: "No Missus, please nooo...." as Madame led the aging woman up to the attic. Mignot, although slightly ailing, had been stockier than the Mistress, and yet the smaller woman had overcome the struggling slave and hauled her up those stairs. The closing of a door shut off one howling scream, and that was the last anyone ever heard from Mignot. Aimee had trembled in her cot; afraid to breath louder for fear that the Mistress would hear and come get her, too. But the woman hadn't reappeared until the next day. Lucas had spied her coming down the stairs, said that her dress had been soaked with blood.

After that, Aimee's thoughts had turned to escape, but she had not seen a way until the day she happen to overhear Miselle talking with her man about their plans. Aimee had taken it as a sign, but Miselle had been none too pleased with the thought of another mouth to feed...and maybe a temptation to her man on the long journey north. It had taken some quick thinking on Aimee's part, but she had convinced Miselle that three on the road was better than none at all, "cause the Mistress sho would be none too happy to hear `bout yo plans to run off." Defeated, Miselle had told Aimee she would let her know the time and place. And now everything was.

Soon, the sun settled and the servants began lighting lamps ensconced along the walls. Aimee's nerves heightened as night surrounded the house, as shadows played on the dark wood panels in the hall, creating creatures that seem to reach out to her. Tapestries showing women in the embrace of half-men, half-goats hung on the walls. Aimee could never bring herself to look too long on these scenes, wondering at the pull she felt whenever she did. They were just too sinful and yet...

"Almost time," she said quietly to herself as she entered the guestroom and began sweeping the large Oriental rug that Master LaLaurie had picked up on his last trip. The room was large and dark, even with the lamps lit, and Aimee tried hard to shake the feeling that something was watching her.

"Just my mind playin' wit' me is all..." she said to the room, looking around, reassuring herself that she was alone. The broom took up a rhythm as she swept, and she let the rhythm soothe her. She thought thoughts of freedom, what she would do when she got up North. She had no kin, least none that she knew of. Her mama had died years ago on a plantation west of Shreveport, and her brothers had been sold off to parts unknown when she was a mere girl. So she really didn't know what she was going to do or where she was going to go after she left. Just so long as she was away from here, everything would be all right.

The clock struck nine just as Aimee finished up the last room. Only one more hour to go, and she would be on her way North, free of this place. There would be no more strange sounds coming late at night from overhead, with her shaking in bed, wondering what devilment was going on up there. Aimee walked the length of the hallway, past the elaborate doors of the grand bedrooms she had just cleaned until she stood in front of the lone wooden door that led to the small anteroom where she slept.