by Amy Cross
“We can't do either of those things.”
“Why not?”
“Just trust me. You're being hunted.”
I stopped for a moment. “I'm being what?”
“Hunted.” He stopped and turned to me, his silhouette barely visible against the night sky. Thanks to the distant glow of lights, the stars were hidden.
“Why would someone hunt me?” I asked. “I think here has to be some confusion here.”
“There's no confusion. Why? Do you think the whole scene back at the warehouse was just a coincidence?”
“No, but...” My voice trailed off. The situation seemed so absurd, I couldn't shake the hope that at any moment I might suddenly wake up back in my apartment.
“I'm on your side,” he continued. “That man back there, the one with the gun, was going to turn you over to Hugo's people, and then you'd have been taken straight to my brother. I told you his spies are everywhere, Chloe. If you walk into a hospital or a police station, the same thing will happen again. Right now, the city is teeming with his associates. Believe me, he's had a long time to develop all his contacts.”
I wanted to ask more questions, but at the same time I figured he wasn't going to give me a straight answer. Since leaving the warehouse, I'd been trying to think of ways to get away from this maniac, but he seemed relentless in his pursuit.
“Please don't kill me,” I said finally, with tears in my eyes. “I don't want to die, please let me go.”
“Kill you?” He paused. “I'm going out of my way to keep you alive, Chloe.”
“Please,” I continued, dropping to my knees. “Whatever you're going to do to me, just leave me alive at the end. I won't tell anyone, I won't even go to the police and report it, but I don't want to die!”
“Then get up and keep walking.”
“Please don't kill me,” I sobbed again, not really knowing how to phrase it any differently. “I only came to Paris because I wanted an adventure, but I don't want an adventure anymore! I want to go home!”
My whole body was convulsing now, as I bent double and waited for him to hurt me. All I could hope was that he'd have some pity for me, and that maybe he'd let me live. Sure, he'd ravage and torture me, but I still clung to the belief that I could persuade him to leave me alive.
“My mother was right,” I whimpered finally, as I realized the awful truth. “She's so going to gloat.”
“Chloe, get up,” Matthias said finally, with a sigh. “This is a side of you I've never seen before.”
He paused, before sighing again.
“Please,” I whimpered, clutching my hands together even tighter. “Please...”
“Chloe, I just saved you,” he replied, sounding a little irritated. “I literally tore open that building and got you out. Now I'm taking you somewhere safe, so can you please stop sobbing like this? I had no idea you used to be so... sobby. The longer we -”
Suddenly he let out a faint gasp.
Looking up at him, I saw that he was once again clutching his side. He seemed to be in pain, but after a few seconds he straightened up.
“Do you know what you're kneeling in?” he asked finally.
Looking down at the cold, dark sludge that was soaking through my jeans, I paused for a moment. “Mud?”
“Sludge from a dredging operation,” he continued. “There's probably raw sewage mixed in there as well. Can't you smell it?”
I nodded.
“Do you like it?”
I shook my head.
“So get up,” he added, before holding his hand out toward me. “I know you can be stubborn, but this is ridiculous. Aren't you cold?”
I paused, before slowly getting to my feet. I didn't want to admit that he was right about anything, and somehow I managed to keep from shivering.
“Come on,” he continued, stepping past me and leading me a little further, before stopping a short distance ahead.
Although I was terrified, I took a few steps toward him, before seeing lights in the distance. There was a bridge a couple of hundred meters further on, and after a moment I realize I could see fires burning in old oil drums, and figures sitting around those barrels.
“Who are those people?” I asked cautiously. “Tramps?”
“They're friends of mine,” he replied, before turning to me with a faint smile. “They can help you.”
***
“It's good to see you too, Pete,” Matthias said, patting the old man on the back as he led me past another burning drum. “Is Her Royal Highness home?”
“What do you think?” the old man replied. “She's in her chamber, like always. Lording it over the rest of us, telling us all what to do, and acting like she's so superior!”
“Perfect,” Matthias muttered. “Sounds like she hasn't changed a bit.”
“Are these people homeless?” I asked, keeping my voice low as I followed Matthias to an opening beneath the bridge.
“Of course not,” he replied. “This is their home.”
“Under a bridge?”
“Under a bridge.”
“Why would they live under a bridge?” I asked. “So they are homeless?”
“No, I told you. They have a home.”
“Under a bridge?”
“Exactly. I'm glad you're starting to understand. Why, is it a problem?”
“No!” I replied. “I mean, I give money to homeless charities. Or I did once, at least. I just haven't really spent much time around them. Or any time.”
He smiled as he ducked down and disappeared into a gap in the wall, and a moment later I saw him reach his hand back out and beckon for me to follow.
I looked over my shoulder and watched as half a dozen old men continued to sit and chat while warming their hands near the fire. The entire situation seemed surreal and I still wasn't sure that I was safe, but at the same time I didn't want to risk running and ending up with another gun in my face. For the time being, at least, I'd pretty much accepted that I should stick with Matthias.
“Welcome back!” a voice said suddenly.
Turning, I was shocked to see one of the old men stumbling toward me with a broad, toothless grin. He wrapped his arms around me and gave me a tight hug, and my nostrils were suddenly filled with a kind of stale stench.
“How've you been, Chloe?” the old man continued, hugging me even tighter for a moment before stepping back and looking up at my face. “You're a sight for sore eyes, do you know that? We were all worried about you after last time!”
“I...” Pausing, I realized I had no idea what to say to him. He was clearly out of his mind.
“Jerome,” Matthias said suddenly, leaning out from the hole in the wall, “please, we don't have time for this. Remember what I told you.”
The old man frowned, before nodding slowly. “Right,” he muttered, glancing at me again with a hint of concern and then turning to head back to the others by the fire. He continued to say something under his breath, but it was as if he'd suddenly been scared off. After a moment, another old man joined him and began to usher him away.
“What did he mean by that?” I asked, turning to Matthias. “He acted like he knew me.”
“It's nothing.”
“He knew my name.”
“You look like a Chloe.”
“How did he know who I am?”
“Pay no attention,” he replied, before ducking back out of sight. “Come on. We have a queen to visit.”
“Right,” I muttered, before realizing what he'd just said. “A what?”
I waited, but this time he apparently didn't even deign to give me an answer.
“Sure,” I muttered, “a queen. Why not? It's no less ridiculous than anything else that's happened tonight.”
Crouching down, I began to make my way through the gap in the wall. I expected darkness on the other side, but instead I found a corridor with candles burning on the walls, lighting the way. Matthias was already making his way toward the far end, but after a moment he glanced
back and gestured for me to hurry.
Somewhat dazed, I began to follow, although I still wasn't certain that I was making the right choice. Matthias was starting to seem like the lesser of two evils, but all I wanted was to get back to Paris and then catch the first train to London. When I reached the end of the corridor, however, I saw that Matthias had already started making his way down a set of stone steps that spiraled into the darkness below, and I hesitated.
“What is this place?” I asked cautiously.
“To you and me,” he replied, stopping and glancing up at me, “it's a hole in the ground beneath a rather dull-looking little bridge. But to others, it's the royal court of Queen Antoinette the third.”
“Queen who the what?”
“Let me introduce you,” he continued. “I can't promise it'll make sense, but she can help us. Beneath all her bluster and pomp, she's a very wise woman and she knows what she's doing. And right now, we need all the help we can get.” He glanced at me. “But there really is a lot of bluster and pomp.”
***
“I hope you didn't lead them here!” a voice cried out from the darkness ahead. “I don't want filth on my doorstep! My court is supposed to be in a resting phase until the time comes to rise again!”
“She gets a little tetchy sometimes,” Matthias muttered, leading me into a large, stone-walled room. “Just ignore the dramatic flourishes. She's got a heart of gold, I swear.”
Before I could reply, I saw the surreal sight of a woman sitting at the far end of the room on a large, ornate gold throne. She was wearing a large, obviously fake and very tall white wig, while various shabbily-dressed men in faded robes attended to her needs. The whole scene seemed like some kind of old royal palace, except that it was under a bridge, in a cold and slightly damp room, and everyone's clothes looked to be several centuries old.
“Matthias, is that you?” the woman continued, before turning to one of the men next to her. “What are you waiting for?” she hissed. “Introduce me properly!”
The man made his way toward us and bowed. As he did so, a cloud of dust plumed from his faded old wig.
“Her Royal Highness Queen Antoinette the third,” he said dourly, “the rightful ruler of this great land, wishes to let it be known that she grants you an audience.”
“In her infinite wisdom!” the woman hissed.
“In her infinite wisdom,” the man added, rolling his eyes.
“Well there's a surprise,” Matthias sighed, stepping past the man and then gesturing for me to follow. “Don't worry about the ceremony, Chloe. It's really just for show and -”
“Liar!” the woman on the throne shouted, getting to her feet and immediately causing a cloud of dust to rise from her gown. “Don't you dare give false information, Matthias! Remember that one day I shall rule this land, and then you might start wishing you'd been nicer to me all these years! I still haven't decided whether or not to bring back the guillotine once I'm in charge, and you'd do well to remember that a vampire might not like to have his head removed!”
Making her way down the steps and coming toward us, the woman peered at me with a frown.
“Is she mad?” I whispered to Matthias.
“Definitely not,” he replied under his breath. “Not in this room, at least. Anywhere else, yes.”
“What's wrong with you?” the woman asked as she came toward us. “Why do you not kneel before me? Or curtsy, at least?”
Matthias sighed. “Your Highness, do we -”
“Why doesn't she kneel?” she continued, turning to him. “Have you not told her who I am?”
“Do you really -”
“If she's being introduced to me for the first time,” the woman said firmly, emphasizing each word carefully, “then the proper protocols need to be employed. I refuse to relax these things simply because of my diminished circumstances! Protocols maketh the monarch!”
Matthias stepped toward her and leaned closer, whispering something in her ear.
The woman frowned again, before whispering something back to him.
Matthias whispered again.
She replied, keeping her voice low.
I heard Matthias sigh, before he said a few more words.
The woman immediately replied, her hushed whispers somehow sounding more urgent this time.
After a moment, Matthias sighed again, and then he turned to me and pointed to the floor. “Just kneel, Chloe,” he said, clearly irritated by something. “Don't ask questions, just do what she wants.”
I opened my mouth to reply.
“Please,” he added. “For my sake?”
I paused for a moment, before kneeling on the cold stone floor. Immediately, I felt cold mud soaking through my jeans.
“Three hundred years ago,” the woman said, staring down at me, “the throne of this great country was stolen from my ancestors. Usurpers claimed the royal palace, and my side of the family was ejected, left to rot in the street. Can you imagine such a thing? The tragedy began in the year 1601, when -”
“Let's do the short version,” Matthias said, interrupting her. “Chloe, this is Antoinette. A long time ago, Antoinette's ancestor was robbed of the right to the French throne, due to some dubious dealings in the royal court back in the day. To be fair, Antoinette does have a point, even if it might be said that she has labored that point over the years and might, perhaps, have better employed her time in some other fashion.” He sighed again. “Still, if one happens to do the math, one can quickly come to the realization that if the usurpers had not won the day, and if the French monarchy had survived to the modern era, then Antoinette would indeed currently be the queen.”
“And I shall be!” Antoinette roared, with enough vim to raise a cloud of dust from her ample, shuddering bosom. “As God is my witness, I shall reclaim my rightful place!”
“She feels very strongly about the matter,” Matthias added.
“I also have a claim to the throne of England,” Antoinette continued, “but I am focusing on my dear France for now. Once I have been given my rightful place on the throne at Versailles, I shall turn my attention to London. I assure you, however, that I can trace my lineage all the way back to the Empress Matilda herself!”
“But she's not bitter,” Matthias told me, clearly struggling to stifle a faint smile. “If you think you detect bitterness, then you're wrong.” He paused, before turning to Antoinette. “You know why I'm here,” he told her. “Your Royal Highness owes me a favor, and I am calling that in tonight. The stakes are high and I don't have much time, and as you know, this will be the very last time I ever come to your court.”
She stared at him for a moment, before nodding.
“Hugo is out again,” he continued. “I've tried every other approach to the situation, but nothing has worked. A few nights ago, Hugo caught on to Chloe's scent, and now he's determined to...” He paused. “Well, I'm sure I don't need to explain it all to you again. I entered Chloe's dreams recently and saw Hugo following her on a night out with her friend, and -”
“I'm sorry?” I said suddenly. “What did you just... Did you say you entered my dreams?”
He turned to me. “We'll talk about it later.”
“How did you enter my dreams?” I asked, getting to my feet as I felt a flash of anger. “Do you mean that time I dreamed about being out with Belinda again? I felt as if someone was holding my neck, moving me around like a doll!”
He sighed. “Chloe...”
“Was that you?”
“I had to focus your attention,” he said cautiously. “It's really not a big deal, Chloe. The only alternative was to ask you, but I doubt you'd have been a very reliable witness. It was easier for me to dredge through your memories, make you relieve them as a dream, and see for myself.” He paused. “If you're annoyed, we can discuss it later.”
“You entered my head?” I continued, slowly feeling a sense of anger rising through my chest. “Without permission?”
“You wouldn't have given m
e permission.”
“Of course I wouldn't!” I hissed, before realizing that the entire conversation was surreal. “Are you in my head now?”
“No.”
“How can I be sure of that?”
“Well, do you feel me in there?”
“Would I be able to?”
“I'd like to think so.”
“Don't ever do it again,” I said firmly. “I do not give you permission!”
“Fine,” he muttered, turning back to Antoinette. “As you can see,” he continued, “there have been certain distractions along the way, but Hugo is on Chloe's trail and he's already come close to capturing her twice. I need to move fast.”
Antoinette nodded.
“Our mutual friend assures me that everything is on-track,” Matthias added, before casting a brief glance at me, almost as if he wanted to check whether I was close enough to overhear them. After a moment, he turned back to Antoinette. “Chloe is hurt. I told her you could fix her injuries.”
Chapter Eighteen
Matthias
“This,” Antoinette said quietly, once we'd made our way from the room and were alone, “is a huge mistake. Even by your standards, Matthias.”
“What's that supposed to mean?” I asked, trying to hide the fact that the pain was returning.
“It means I'm putting myself in danger for you,” she continued, “and in return, you're acting like a lunatic. There's more at stake here than this ongoing family feud. You're almost as bad as your brother.”
I turned and scowled at her.
“I said almost,” she added cautiously, as if she expected retribution. “And I'm sorry if mentioning him makes you angry.”
“You don't know what the hell you're talking about,” I sneered, glancing over at the door to make sure that Chloe wasn't close enough to hear us. “When I asked you for this favor, you didn't tell me I'd have to listen to your constant complaints about what I'm -”
Before I could finish, the pain burst up through my chest and I gasped, stepping back.
“How bad is it?” Antoinette asked.
“I'm fine.”
