Bellucci’s Garden District Remorse Runes

BELLUCCI’S GARDEN DISTRICT REMORSE RUNESChapter One: The Attic ChestFive-Card Tarot Spread

The Secret — The High PriestessThe Bloodline — Ten of Pentacles ReversedThe Warning — JudgementVinny’s Action — The EmperorVal’s Sight — The MoonScripture:“For nothing is secret, that shall not be made manifest; neither any thing hid, that shall not be known and come abroad.” — Luke 8:17

Italian Quote:“La verità viene sempre a galla.”Truth always rises to the surface.

Rune: Fehu — wealth, inheritance, possessionStone: BloodstoneNordic Dessert: Multekrem — cloudberries folded into sweet creamZodiac: Aries

The attic above the Saint Charles mansion did not feel empty.

It felt patient.

Valeri Caronna stood in the narrow hall of the old servant quarters with a flashlight in one hand and her tarot deck in the other, staring at the wall behind Vinny Bellucci’s shoulder.

The paneling was old cypress, dark with age, polished by heat, dust, and secrets.

Vinny glanced back at her.

“What?”

“That wall is watching me.”

Vinny looked at the wall.

Then back at Val.

“It’s wood.”

“It’s not just wood.”

“In this house, nothing is just anything, apparently.”

Rain tapped against the attic windows. Down below, Saint Charles Avenue glowed slick and silver beneath the streetlamps. The mansion was quiet for once. The museum rooms were locked. The notary desk in the foyer was closed. The family had eaten, argued, prayed, disappeared into corners, and left Val and Vinny upstairs with leftover wine, dessert plates, and the kind of silence that always meant trouble.

On the small attic table sat two bowls of multekrem, soft cream folded with amber cloudberries. Val had made it because the old handwritten recipe card had fallen from one of Uncle Vincenzo’s books earlier that afternoon.

She should have known better.

Food did not fall out of books in Bellucci’s mansion unless the dead wanted dinner.

Vinny leaned against the wall, arms crossed.

“You been staring at that panel for ten minutes.”

“Because it’s humming.”

“It ain’t humming.”

Val lifted one eyebrow.

The wall gave a low, faint vibration.

Vinny’s expression changed.

“Okay,” he said. “Now it’s humming.”

Val shuffled her tarot deck and laid five cards on the table beside the dessert.

The High Priestess.

Ten of Pentacles reversed.

Judgement.

The Emperor.

The Moon.

Vinny looked at the cards.

“That bad?”

“That old.”

He nodded once and walked to the storage corner.

“Where are you going?”

“To get a crowbar.”

“Vinny.”

“What?”

“You cannot crowbar every spiritual emergency.”

He came back holding the crowbar.

“I can try.”

The cypress panel split loose with one hard crack.

Dust spilled out first.

Then cold air.

Behind the wall was a hollow space no wider than a coffin, and inside it sat a cedar chest wrapped in black cloth.

Val’s stomach tightened.

The cloth was tied with a faded red cord.

Not Christmas red.

Blood red.

Vinny reached in.

Val grabbed his wrist.

“Wait.”

He stopped immediately.

That was the thing about Vinny. He acted like thunder, but when Val said wait, he waited.

She moved closer and studied the chest.

There were symbols carved into the lid.

Not crosses.

Not saints.

Not fleur-de-lis.

Runes.

Val whispered, “That’s Norse.”

Vinny frowned. “In my Italian attic?”

“That’s the problem.”

He pulled the chest out and set it on the floor between them. The lock was rusted but still strong. Vinny twisted it once with the crowbar and snapped it open.

The lid groaned.

Inside lay twelve polished stones.

Not river rocks.

Not craft-store decorations.

Gemstones.

Each one was carved with an ancient symbol and filled with dull gold.

Bloodstone. Lapis lazuli. Carnelian. Obsidian. Jasper. Tiger’s eye. Amethyst. Malachite. Sodalite. Hematite. Moonstone. Labradorite.

Val’s eyes went straight to the bloodstone.

Deep green.

Red flecks like dried blood.

The rune carved into it looked like wealth, cattle, inheritance, ownership.

Fehu.

At the bottom of the chest was a folded note.

Val lifted it carefully.

The paper nearly cracked in her fingers.

Written in old ink were the words:

THE STONES REMEMBER WHAT THE FAMILY FORGETS.

The attic went colder.

Vinny stepped closer to her.

“Do not touch nothing yet.”

The bloodstone shifted.

Just once.

A tiny scrape against the cedar bottom.

Val and Vinny both froze.

Vinny stared down at it.

“I hate this house.”

Val whispered, “It chose first.”

“No, it did not.”

“It moved.”

“I saw it move. I’m choosing not to emotionally participate.”

The bloodstone began to glow.

Not bright.

Not beautiful.

A red pulse under the surface, like a heart trapped inside stone.

Val reached for it.

Vinny caught her hand.

“Val.”

“I have to see.”

“No, you don’t.”

“Yes, I do.”

His jaw tightened. “I’m right here.”

“I know.”

She touched the rune.

The attic vanished.

Val stood in the mansion foyer, but it was not the foyer she knew.

The wallpaper was darker. The gas lamps flickered. A woman in black stood near the staircase, clutching a sealed envelope to her chest. Her face was wet with tears.

A man stood before her in a fine suit.

His ring flashed red and gold.

The woman begged him.

“These children have no one.”

The man took the envelope.

He did not comfort her.

He did not pray.

He opened a drawer in the notary desk and hid the envelope beneath a false bottom.

Then he whispered, “No one will miss what they never knew was theirs.”

The vision cracked.

A child cried somewhere in the dark.

Then came a voice, low and ancient.

First debt: blood money.

Val gasped and dropped the rune.

Vinny caught her before she hit the floor.

The attic rushed back.

Rain.

Dust.

Cedar chest.

Vinny’s hands on her arms.

“What did you see?”

Val blinked hard.

“An inheritance.”

Vinny’s eyes sharpened.

“Whose?”

“Children. Orphans. Somebody stole it and hid the proof in the foyer.”

Vinny’s face went still in that dangerous way.

“In my foyer?”

Val nodded.

Before either of them could move, a loud click echoed from somewhere below.

Not the front door.

Not the balcony door.

A hidden lock.

Then another click.

Then another.

The mansion was unlocking itself.

Vinny turned toward the attic stairs.

“Stay behind me.”

Val picked up the bloodstone again.

It burned cold in her palm.

Fresh words appeared across the old note, bleeding up through the paper like ink rising from a grave.

FEHU WAKES FIRST. WEALTH MUST ANSWER.

From the hallway came the slow creak of footsteps.

One step.

Then another.

Vinny reached inside his jacket.

The attic doorknob turned.

A voice rasped through the door.

“Put the stone down, Vincent.”

Vinny went completely still.

Only two people called him Vincent.

The priest.

And Uncle Vincenzo.

Vinny opened the door.

Uncle Vincenzo stood in the hall in his robe, pale beneath the yellow attic light. His eyes were fixed on the cedar chest like he was looking at a coffin that had crawled back from the cemetery.

Val held up the bloodstone.

“What are these?”

Uncle crossed himself.

“The Remorse Runes.”

Vinny’s voice dropped low.

“Why were they hidden in my attic?”

Uncle Vincenzo looked past him toward the open chest.

“Because the Garden District begged your family to bury them.”

Thunder rolled over Saint Charles Avenue.

Every rune in the chest began to glow.

Uncle’s voice trembled.

“And now they remember.”

Closing Prayer:Lord, uncover only what truth can heal, and protect the innocent from the sins of the dead. Give Valeri clear sight, give Vinny steady judgment, and guide this house through the weight of remembrance. Amen.