Flicker Blue 2: Jigsaw

by Brea Nicole Bond

Chapter V

  Preparations

  More than an hour passed before Jane heard the familiar sounds of people moving around on the main floor below. In particular, she recognized the sound of pots and pans clanging against one another as they were pulled from the kitchen cabinets. Angelita is downstairs making breakfast. Jane’s stomach rumbled on cue, as if to provide further encouragement for her to wrap up her research and begin her day. It promised to be an exceedingly busy one, after all, and she couldn’t spend all of it in planning—she had things to buy, bags to pack, and goodbyes to make. One goodbye, in particular.

  Jane first returned to her room in order to take a quick shower and throw on a t-shirt and jeans, but she was working her way back down the stairs in under ten minutes, sweeping her hair into a sloppy ponytail as she took the steps two at a time. The aroma of eggs and cinnamon rolls met her before she reached the kitchen.

  Angelita looked up from the frying pan on the stove, where she was busy swirling a wooden spoon through a yellow mass of scrambled eggs. “Good morning, Jane. You’re up early.”

  “I have a lot to do today. Is Cris around?”

  “He was still asleep when I left the cottage.” She tapped the spoon on the side of the pan, tossed it into the sink, and wiped her hands on a dishtowel before opening the oven to check on the rolls. A thick cloud of cinnamon and brown sugar wafted over the kitchen. “You have my permission to drag him out of bed, though. Breakfast will be ready in a few more minutes.”

  “Thanks, Angelita. I think I’ll take you up on that. Would you mind if I invited him out to run some errands with me today?”

  “No, that would be fine. What kind of errands, honey? Anything I can help you with?”

  Jane hesitated, unsure how much information she could share without hurting herself or angering her godfather. “Well, Uncle Mederick and I are…leaving tomorrow. On our trip.”

  Angelita nodded and raised both hands toward Jane, as if to signal that she needn’t say anything else. “Have some breakfast, and I’ll pull out a couple of suitcases for you while you’re out with Cris. They’ll be in your room when you get back, and then I’ll help you pack, okay?”

  “That sounds great. You’re a life saver, Angelita.”

  “De nada, baby. Now, go tell my lazy son that it’s time to rejoin the living.”

  Jane smiled and did as she was told.

  She was unsure how to explain her situation to Cris, so Jane borrowed her godfather’s tactic. Just before they left to do her shopping, she ran upstairs to the library and retrieved the travel book from Dr. Sylfaen’s desk. She thought he’d probably only left it there for her as a clue, so she doubted that he would miss it while he prepared for the trip. Jane placed it on the passenger seat of her car, where she was sure that Cris would find it without her having to physically hand it to him—that seemed perilously close to direct communication and might cause her harm.

  “Whoa. Paris? I’ve always wanted to go there.” Cris picked up the book and began flicking through the pages once he’d settled in and buckled his seatbelt.

  “Me, too, especially since we read Hunchback. Maybe I’ll get to see the catacombs, or Notre Dame,” she said as she pulled out of the garage. The old man’s trick had worked perfectly; she would remember that one for later.

  “Wait a minute—Mamí said you’re leaving tomorrow! No wonder you wanted to get such an early start, Janie. Where do you need to go first?”

  “Well, the bank, and then I need to pick up a few toiletries. I’d like to go to a bookstore, too, to pick up something to read on the flight. And then, if I still have time, I thought we’d hit a couple of department stores. I wouldn’t mind having some new clothes for the trip.”

  “Fine by me, so long as you don’t make me wait around by the dressing rooms. What do you want to do for lunch?”

  “Are you joking?” She still felt stuffed from the spread that Angelita had put on that morning.

  “Well, that list is going to take us a while. Since you’re leaving for God knows how long, I’d like to treat you to lunch while we’re out. Is that okay?”

  “Thanks, Cris. I’d like that.” Jane couldn’t imagine that she would feel hungry again for several hours, but a lunch date would be the perfect opportunity to say goodbye properly. I wonder why that feels so important, she wondered. Why does it feel like I’m going to be gone for a long time? As far as she knew, all they had to do was fly to Paris, get the book from this Madame Antoinette character, and fly back home. Even if we do a little sightseeing, that won’t take more than a week—two weeks tops.

  The morning passed in a whirlwind of productivity. Jane was glad that she’d thought to invite Cris along (even if he wasn’t the least bit concerned about helping her settle on the right travel-sized shampoo). He carried the list and checked off the items as she tossed them into the grocery cart; that stop alone would have taken her twice as long if she’d attempted it on her own. Working together, they managed to make it to the bookstore downtown well before lunchtime, and Jane allowed herself nearly an hour to browse the shelves before she settled on a paperback edition of Around the World in Eighty Days. She’d always wanted to read that one, and it seemed appropriate to select a novel by a French writer.

  Just before noon, they agreed on a small deli that was tucked into the opening of an alley down the street from the bookstore. It was surprisingly empty for a Saturday afternoon, and it boasted a number of tables where they could eat and converse in the warm sunshine. Jane laughed in mock disgust as Cris devoured a sandwich the size of his head. I hope I won’t be gone too long, she thought as she picked through her salad.

  “Whatcha thinking about?” Cris asked between bites.

  She shrugged. “Nothing, really. Just wondering about the trip, I guess.”

  “What about it?”

  “I don’t really know what to expect. I don’t even know how long we’ll be gone...and I’ll probably have to meet a bunch of new people. You know how much I love doing that.”

  “You’ll be fine, Janie.” He took a long swig of his Coke. “Besides, you should be used to it after last night. You still haven’t told me anything about the party, you know.”

  “I’d like to—you know I would. I’m just not sure what I can tell you.”

  “Relax. I’m better at this than you think. I’ve lived with Sylfaen since I was nine years old, remember? Granted, your moving in with us has made communication exponentially more difficult.”

  Jane pointed her fork at him.

  “I’m not complaining, Janie. It is what it is. Now, the table was set for five when I left, but there were six chairs around it when I got home. I suppose you had a surprise extra guest.”

  “Hmmm. Good work, Sherlock.” Evan was the extra—Uncle Mederick hadn’t intended for him to be there.

  “And I take it that all four guests were Cursed, or else no-one could have done any talking.”

  “Cursed?”

  “Sorry. That’s just the term I use for people like you, or Dr. Sylfaen, or whoever else can do extra things like you and him. Cursed, you know, because you can’t say anything about it. I found the name in one of his old books, and it just sort of stuck in my mind.”

  Jane wrinkled up her nose in response. “Then I guess you’re right, but I really don’t care for my new nickname.”

  “Why not? I have to call you something when I’m making my notes.”

  “Yeah, but it sounds like something from a bad horror movie. Cursed means something evil, right? Whatever we are, it’s not necessarily a bad thing, Cris.” Her anger surprised her, so much so that she didn’t immediately notice the prickling sensation in her belly. “What I do might make me a freak, sure, but that doesn’t mean I’m a monst—” Abruptly, one of the invisible serpents bit down on the soft flesh below her ribcage, and its fellows were not far behind. Their venom coursed through her body, weaving pain through her abdomen first, then her arms, legs, and head. Her equilibrium faltered and she fell fr
om the chair onto the concrete floor of the deli patio.

  “Janie!” Again, Cris was out of his seat quickly enough to keep her from hitting her head, but they both went down hard enough to leave bruises on his knees and her left hip. “Janie, keep your eyes on me. Breathe as deeply as you can, and don’t let go.”

  She was seeing him through a pinhole of light, and she only made out a few of his words. Janie…eyes…breathe. She was struck by a vision of Mr. Everword, pushing deliberate breaths in and out of his lungs, and she tried to do the same. Inhale, exhale, inhale, she chanted silently as she focused hard on Cris’s terrified expression. With each breath, her peripheral vision widened. The pain began to recede back into a small core in the center of her body, and then dissipated altogether.

  Jane sat up and pulled herself back into her chair. She was aware of Cris’s hands guiding her to her seat, but she didn’t need his help. The attack was over. I did it! I fought it away! Thinking back to the words that had triggered the assault, she decided that it may even have been worth it. At least I know that my abilities aren’t a bad thing…. I’m not a monster.

  The deli owner had also reached their table by the time Jane made it back to her chair. “Are you alright, miss? I can call 9-1-1, or—”

  “No—thank you,” Jane added sweetly, in her best impression of Hannah Grace Gale, “I just had a, a clumsy moment. I’m afraid I do it all the time…don’t I?” She looked at Cris without blinking.

  “Uh, yeah.” His voice was hollow with disbelief.

  Jane continued forcefully. “I’m really okay, sir. I’m so sorry if I scared anyone.”

  The man shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “Well, if you’re sure you don’t need any help….” He made a reluctant turn toward the counter inside.

  Jane leaned over to Cris, who had just made it back to his own seat. “Can we get out of here?”

  “Yeah, of course. You sure you’re okay though, Janie? That looked really bad. How did you—never mind, don’t tell me anything else. Let’s just go home.” He pulled his wallet from his back pocket and threw down enough money to pay for their meal and one hell of a tip before taking Jane’s arm and pulling her back to the car.

  Jane started for the driver’s side, but Cris shook his head and led her to the passenger side door. “Fine,” she said, “but you’re overreacting. I’m alright now, I promise.”

  “Maybe you are, maybe you’re not. Either way, we need to go back home to Dr. Sylfaen and tell him what happened. He should check you out.”

  “No, Cris! I still have shopping to do before my trip!”

  “Be reasonable. You almost fainted to the ground back there.”

  “But I didn’t, did I? You can go home if you want, but I want to—I’m going to finish my shopping.”

  “The hell you are,” he snapped as he started the engine. “Now stop whining so I can focus on the road. You really shook me up back there.”

  Jane narrowed her eyes. “Are you telling me what to do?”

  “Janie, you’re my best friend, and I love you. I’m going to do whatever is best for you, even if you don’t agree with me.”

  “Is that so?” she hissed.

  “Yes, that’s so.”

  In a matter of seconds, Jane conjured a mental image of the dressing room of one of the department store’s downtown—the one where she’d shopped with Angelita during the Winter Break. The smell of electricity filled her nostrils as the car interior began to flash and flicker in a familiar blue light. She screwed up her face in anticipation.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Just focus on the road, Cris,” she growled, one second before she disappeared with a loud snap.

  Cris screamed a noise of combined horror and frustration. His foot hit the brake involuntarily, and a cacophony of car horns sounded behind him. He looked down at the empty passenger seat to his right.

  “Oh, for Christ’s sake, Janie,” he grumbled as he steered the car back into the flow of traffic.

  On the very same day, a tall lady in a dress of pale blue silk stood upon a balcony. Her hair, all set in shoulder-length strawberry blond ringlets except for the sleek fringe of bangs over her forehead, would have been more suited to a small child than an apparently grown woman of middling age. But she had worn it just that way for decades, and it suited her perfectly somehow. Today, the curls bounced in the early summer breeze as the lady studied the message that her butler Jean-Pierre had brought to her.

  Sincerely, Mederick Sylfaen, the last line read. She had known him well once, though she could no longer count the years that had passed since he last tried to contact her. And she had respected him, too, for all his tormenting her about her frivolities…her pets, some friends had called them, but she had always referred to them as her dolls, just like the beautiful porcelain figures that her father had lavished upon her when she was a child, so many years ago. She still had those little figures…they gathered dust from their places of honor on the shelves throughout her home, and she looked upon them often, but her favorite dolls had long since passed on, leaving no more than photographs or the occasional portrait by which to be remembered.

  For the old man to contact her now, after so many years and so many missed opportunities, could mean only one thing, and Madame Antoinette fumed silently as she considered it. She wasn’t angry—she had never been inclined to that particular emotion, even as a child. He had annoyed her in the past, to be sure, but if he had finally descended from his high horse (and he certainly had if he was on his way to Paris now) she would forgive him. Welcome him and his companion with open arms, even. But the cold monster of jealousy had awoken from its long dormancy and wound its way around her heart, as it always did when she thought of Dr. Sylfaen. Madame Antoinette had considerable gifts, abilities which she treasured above all of her beautiful possessions, but she would have traded them in a heartbeat for a sliver of the old man’s talents.

  “Jean-Pierre?”

  “Oui, Madame?” The butler appeared, scurried forward from the dark doorway of the room behind the balcony.

  “Contact Dr. Sylfaen. Tell him that I would be delighted for him to join me in Paris for a few days.”

  The butler bobbed his head, but the tall, elegant lady was far from finished with her instructions for him.

  “Prepare two of our guestrooms—the one looking out on the street for him, and the one next to my chambers as well. And I’ll be giving a small party in honor of his arrival. Tomorrow evening. Send around invitations to Liam—I just heard that he is in town…and to Albert Manech.”

  “To Monsieur Manech, Madame?”

  The lady whirled around, her eyes flashing daggers at the fidgeting man. She drew a breath and calmed herself. No, Madame Antoinette had never been inclined to anger. “Yes, Jean-Pierre. Just make everything ready.”

  “Oui, Madame.” The butler shuffled back through the darkened doorway, and the lady returned her eyes to the letter in her hands.