Halloween Noir - 5. A Voice From the Past

Jacques woke to the warmth of sunlight streaming through a gap between the heavy curtains. It tickled his nose. His body ached from the strain of the previous night and sleeping on the couch, but for a moment, the world felt peaceful. The old house was quiet, except for the faint hum of the city outside, which added to the comforting stillness around him.

He blinked groggily and squinted against the brightness. Turning to the bed, he expected to see Alex, but there was just the crumpled heap of his duvet. Looking further around, he saw Alex, already awake, standing across the room in front of a large, full-length mirror with an intricate frame. His back was to Jacques, his figure slightly hunched, his expression—what Jacques could see of it in the reflection—deep in thought and puzzlement. Alex stared at himself, almost like he was studying a stranger. His previously slim, emaciated frame was gone. He was a lot heavier now, chunky, to be polite, but not actually fat. His hands ran absently over his body, prodding and squeezing some of the new mass as if trying to make sense of this new version of himself. Jacques shifted under the cover of his light blanket, watching the young man quietly. In the dim light of the room, Jacques still thought he saw the faint glow of the symbols, but maybe he was just imagining it.

“Work in progress?“ he said.

The confusion was written all over Alex’s face, but Jacques couldn’t think of anything else to say. How could he? He barely recalled, let alone understood, what had happened last night. The weight of uncertainty sat between them like a ghost lingering in the corners of the room.

Alex finally spoke, his voice low, as if afraid of breaking the fragile silence. “I don’t… I don’t know what happened. I don’t remember getting back here.” He frowned, and his voice sounded almost pleading. Eyes clouded with confusion, he glanced over at Jacques.

“And… why are you here?”

Jacques’s heart melted. Alex seemed so much younger today and so lost. He just wanted to hold him and tell him everything was going to be alright. But with these massive changes to Alex’s body and what — probably — happened, he didn’t dare to go over and touch him. And, let’s be honest, the thought of holding his body in the current state didn’t appeal to him. Let him get used to it first. Let’s see where this is going.

Jacques sat up, running his hand through his hair. “I, uh…” He paused, unsure of how to explain anything, especially when his own memories of last night were hazy. “I suddenly had a very bad feeling and went searching for you. I saw a bunch of thugs carry you away, but when I wanted to intervene, a man stopped me… Solomon?… After that, I’m not sure, he did something to me and I passed out. When I came to again, the thugs were gone and Solomon told me to pick you up, that everything was alright. You were passed out, and … looked a lot worse than now. Solomon said we just needed to get you home. And so we’re here.” No need to confuse Alex even more by telling him what a gruesome mess he’s been last night.

Alex’s brow furrowed, and he looked down at his reflection again. “Home…” He muttered the word as if it didn’t quite fit. The quiet stretched between them, awkward and thick, the only sound the faint rustling of the city waking up outside.

“I guess… we haven’t really introduced ourselves,” Jacques said, his voice awkward. “I’m Jacques. The name’s Alex, right?”

Alex gave a small nod, eyes fixed again on the mirror. “Yeah, that’s me.”

Blushing a bit, he added, “I kind of recognized you last night. No need to tell me who you are… but that, of course, doesn’t mean I know you.“

His hand drifted to his chest, his fingers further pressing against his unfamiliar body. “I actually don’t know myself anymore. I just… I don’t understand. I don’t know what’s happening to me.” Slight panic trembled in his voice.

A sudden glow from Alex was accompanied by a sharp intake of breath. Obviously, the changes to Alex’s body hadn’t settled down yet.

Jacques shifted uncomfortably, unsure of what to say. “I don’t either,” he admitted, his voice quiet. “But maybe Solomon does. He seems to have a lot of information about… us?”

Alex turned then, finally meeting Jacques’s eyes. There was a vulnerability there that caught Jacques off guard, a rawness he hadn’t expected. “Do you trust him? Are you the other guest Solomon is expecting?“

Jacques hesitated. He wasn’t sure what was going on. Solomon was cryptic, always one step ahead, always in control, but there was something about him—something that made Jacques uneasy. “I don’t know,” he answered. “But for now, he might be the only one who can help.”

Alex sighed, sinking down onto the edge of the bed. “This is all so weird,” he murmured. “I don’t even know who I am right now.”

Jacques offered a small, uncertain smile. “Let’s figure it out. Together.”

The room fell into silence again. When Jacques stoop up and pulled open the curtains, sunlight spilled over them, warm and golden, but the unease lingered. Two strangers, barely knowing each other, caught in something much bigger than either of them understood. And as they stood there, trying to piece together the fragments of the night before, the large, old house seemed to hum with secrets waiting to be uncovered.

***

A soft knock at the door interrupted their moment. Solomon’s voice, calm and composed, called out from the hallway.

“Gentlemen, if you could please join me downstairs for breakfast. We have much to discuss.”

Jacques and Alex exchanged a glance. The spell of the morning was broken but the connection between them tentatively growing. With a final, reassuring touch, Jacques stepped back, allowing Alex to gather himself.

They dressed quickly, Alex opting for a sweatsuit that definitely did not fit him anymore. Something needed to be done about that.

“Let’s see what Solomon has to say,” Jacques said, a note of curiosity and confusion in his voice.

Alex took a deep breath, his mind still reeling from the morning’s revelations. “Right. Let’s go.”

As they carefully headed downstairs, Alex waddling more than carefully walking, he felt a mix of fear and anticipation. He was no longer the frail, sickly young man who had arrived at Maison Noir. He was transforming, both in body and spirit, but was ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead? With Jacques by his side, even if they were just beginning to understand their connection?

The aroma of freshly brewed coffee and baked goods filled the air, guiding Alex and Jacques to the dining room, where Solomon awaited them. The table was set with a lavish spread: croissants, fresh fruit, eggs, and an array of preserves. The sunlight streaming through the windows shone a soft morning glow on the delicate porcelain cups and gleaming silverware. Solomon stood by the table, his demeanor calm and composed, exuding an air of quiet authority.

“Good morning, gentlemen,” Solomon greeted them with a warm smile. “Please, have a seat. We have much to discuss.”

Scrutinizing Alex, he added, “I had hoped that the transformation was mostly finished by now… Let’s be quick, so that problem can be addressed.”

Alex and Jacques exchanged a glance before taking their seats. The events of the previous night still lingered in their minds, and they were eager for answers. Alex couldn’t help but notice the slight tremor in his hands as he reached for a croissant, a reminder of the unfamiliar strength now coursing through his veins. Jacques’s usually confident demeanor was tinged with a hint of uncertainty, his eyes flicking occasionally to Alex as if to gauge his companion’s condition.

Solomon walked over to a countertop on which an old oil painting was resting.

“Customarily, this painting occupies its place of honor in the entrance hall, but I thought it would be nicer if you could have a look at it while you had breakfast and we talked… .”

Jacques frowned at the picture. It showed a family of three in historical attire, and the son immediately looked familiar.

„Is that a local celebrity? I’ve seen a guy looking just like him yesterday … just before I went looking for Alex."

„You actually saw him too?“ Solomon asked. „He thought you did… Amazing.“

Jacques looked questioningly at Solomon, who raised his hand, asking for patience.

“Maison Noir has a long and storied history,” Solomon began. “Built shortly after the Great New Orleans Fire of 1788, it has been at the core of Lucien Noir’s legacy, a stronghold of the arcane. This legacy has always been protected by my family, the Soigneurs.”

“Lucien Noir, that’s the guy with the severed hand?” Alex asked, trying to piece together the fragments of information.

Solomon nodded, adjusting the collar of his shirt. “That is correct. This house was built by Etienne Noir and his wife, Amélie. After their untimely deaths, it belonged to Lucien Noir, a powerful sorcerer who sought to harness and control mystical energies. Magic flows through the very foundation of this house. Lucien’s legacy is deeply intertwined with Maison Noir and, by extension, with both of you.”

Jacques frowned, curiosity flickering in his eyes. “What do you mean by ‘both of us’?”

Solomon’s eyes twinkled with ancient wisdom. “Jacques, you are one of the descendants of Lucien. To protect his family, your family, Lucien himself suggested that his young son changed his name from Noir to Black in the 19th century, and the Soigneurs helped let him disappear. Not a very imaginative change if you asked me, but it worked. Everyone thought Pierre, the son, had also died alongside his mother and sister. It’s a rather sad story… .“

„Jacques, the loss of your hand was not mere bad luck but a sign that you chose to inherit Maison Noir and the magical legacy of Lucien.” He paused, letting the words sink in. “Yes, I said you chose, or somehow your own inherent magic chose for you. We don’t know yet.“

„But, before we talk more about what happened then and how it connects to you two, listen to Lucien’s own words.“

With that, Solomon carefully picked up an old journal or diary and turned to a marked page. He removed a sheet of newer looking paper and apologized: „Of course, I’ll read you a translated version.“

“Some context: His parents were just brutally murdered a few days earlier and he was helpless to stop it. It is a bit lengthy for a journal entry, but you’ll understand… .“

***

November 1st, 1809, All Saints day

I’m so alone. I miss them terribly and feel guilty for not having been stronger. I’m sure that if I hadn’t made the mistake that knocked me out, the enemies, the monsters, could have been defeated. Now, I’m the last Noir, and all alone. Up to this morning, I was ready to end the line here and now, and join my parents. It all seemed hopeless.

To please and honor mother on this holy day, I was wearing her favorite of my dresses, the one that I wore in our new family portrait. I had moved the picture to mother’s study and built a small altar around it, lighting candles and incense. But there and then, while I was contemplating my life and future, something magical happened.

A sudden sense of peace came over me and I knew it was another vision. But it felt unlike anything I had experienced before.

While looking at the picture, I closed my eyes for a second and then I was suddenly standing in the entrance hall, the same picture hanging prominently on the wall. It had somewhat darkened with age, but it was the same picture. The hall was still recognizable, even though there were lots of smaller and larger changes.

Suddenly, I was propelled outside and found myself standing in a bustling street, vibrant and alive. This was unmistakably our Old Quarter, yet very different. Everything seemed brighter, more colorful, louder. The air was filled with laughter and music, and I could even smell the scents of food and revelry mingling together.

People in elaborate costumes filled the streets, celebrating a festival that felt both familiar and strange. Jack-o’-lanterns and ghostly decorations were everywhere, and the air buzzed with excitement. I shouldn’t know any of this, but I am positive this scene was over 200 years in the future. The city was still alive and thriving, and this was Halloween—a modern version of Samhain, a celebration of both the dead and the living.

In the midst of the crowd, a particular group of revelers stood out to me. At their center was a young man, tall and muscular, with a missing left hand. There was something unmistakably familiar about him, a sense of kinship that resonated deep within me. The young man wasn’t dressed in a playful costume, but despite being a cripple, his confidence and joy radiated like a beacon.

Before him stood another young man, too slender, yet handsome. He was wearing a rather revealing tattered, open shirt and torn pants. Below the shirt, he wore some kind of black leather straps across his chest, held together with metal rings. All in all, he resembled a strangely appealing undead, face paint highlighting the zombie impression. Something about this second boy also resonated deeply with me. Both young men were clearly enjoying the festivities, their laughter infectious. Then the two young men shared a passionate kiss that drew cheers and applause from the onlookers. It was this open display of love and its acceptance that surprised me most, but also warmed my heart.

This moment was significant, I’m certain. However, soon the scene shifted, and I saw the muscular young cripple later, laughing with friends, his joy undiminished by his physical challenge. Somehow. I was very proud of him.

Then, the truly miraculous thing happened. The young man looked up, seemingly feeling my gaze, looking around as if searching for me. For a moment, time seemed to stand still and our eyes met. In that instant, an overwhelming sense of connection surged through me. This was my descendant, a continuation of my legacy. However, soon a strange pulsing sensation afflicted my own left hand, and a sharp pain. Suddenly, danger seemed to be all around and I was desperate to find the other, slender young man. The connection with my descendant broke when he grabbed the stump on his left arm and looked at it, confused. He also must have sensed my alarm, I’m sure of it. His face said it all.

The vision filled me with hope, a promise that the future held joy and acceptance, a world worth fighting for. There is, however, much I need to think about. How can there be such a strong connection to both these young men? And what happened to my hand?

My desire to join my parents, so strong this morning, was replaced with the knowledge that I somehow will have descendants and that they are doing well, even in such a distant future. I will do everything in my power to make sure this future happens.

PS. After thinking about the vision and my feelings some more, I have come to the conclusion that, out of all my possible descendants, the young man with the missing hand shall be my sole heir. I must make preparations to assure that this is legally possible.

***

Solomon put the translation back into the old journal and looked at them expectantly, especially Jacques.

To break the silence, Alex said: “Well, at least I recognize myself in there... but I didn’t notice we were being watched.“

Solomon smiled. “You couldn’t see him. It takes a special, extremely rare magical ability to do that.“

Nodding in Jacques’s direction, he added: “Obviously, someone can’t deny his heritage … even though of course we suspected Lucien was writing about Jacques ever since the incident where Jacques lost his hand.“

“As for you, Alex, there was no way we could have found you sooner, although my family was looking for signs of you all through the centuries. Apologies for your suffering. We were only able to identify you after Jacques was identified … and we had some more hints, but more on that later.“

“Master Black,“ Solomon addressed Jacques, “Alex is here for a currently undefined long stay. On behalf of Noir Foundation, I ask you to extend your short Halloween vacation for some time. Stay here, at Maison Noir, and think about the situation.“

“But I have a job at home!“ Jacques said.

Solomon slyly smiled and just said, “Noir Foundation has already asked your company, which by pure chance happens to be owned by a subsidiary of Noir Foundation, to put you on indefinite paid leave to advise us on important matters. You just need to agree to the temporary transfer.“

“I… don’t know …. What if I don’t like the work as your advisor or suck at it?“

“Then the owner of Noir Foundation will decide what to do… and just in case you’ve been a bit overwhelmed by all the information… which I highly doubt with a mind like yours… that owner now is officially you.”

“No …that can’t be… that’s too much… this house, the foundation, subsidiaries, at least one company… .” Jacques tried to talk with a steady voice.

Solomon stopped him right there. “It’s certainly too much to go into the details, even I don’t know them all by heart, but let’s just say it’s 200+ years of rather successful wealth management. There will be very generous provisions for all your living relatives, some of those relatives you don’t even know of, but that all pales compared to your own assets.“

“How am I supposed to...“ Jacques started, but Solomon stopped him.

“Take your time… there is no need to rush anything. I suggest changing the topic for now.“

Another sharp intake of breath could be heard from Alex, making Jacques jump.

“On the other hand,” Solomon said with some urgency, “Alex needs some attention right now… That magic must be told what to do. Jacques, we have a well-equipped gym here, right next to the pool. I’ll show you. Please put Alex through a very, very thorough full-body workout … really exhaust him… and then repeat the whole ordeal. Don’t worry about muscle soreness, fatigue or even injury, that won’t happen. Be ruthless, so to speak. The magic just needs to find a target, something to improve.“

Jacques looked slightly pained by the request, order really, but Solomon gave them both an encouraging smile.

“I promise, after that, Alex will be more than fine.”

“And while you two train, I have some pressing matters to attend to… some people need to be informed, personally, of your arrival. I should be back soon enough, I hope.”