«For God's sake, Sibylle, don't scream like that! We are in a cemetery!»
«Yeah, sure, that's a clever thing to say screaming.» says Virginie.
When Saphir hears calling her name she turns to look behind her and as soon as she sees Sibylle she takes a deep breath, raising her eyes to the sky.
Sibylle arrives panting loudly but also smiling happily. She doesn't say a word for a while, stay silent looking at the clean shining white marble grave where there is a name written in black: Armand.
«Your husband?» asks Sibylle.
«Yes.» answers Saphir icily.
«He really was an attractive man.»
«He was, indeed.»
«What a nice smile he had and such a sweet gaze too.»
«He was a man who loved to laugh and his heart was as good as an angel's.»
«The exact opposite of you.» observes Sibylle.
Saphir turns to look at her for a second, a second long enough to admonish her from saying stupid things like that.
«Forgive me, Saphir, I never understand when it's better to shut up.»
«Yeah, I can see that.»
«Those flowers are beautiful. Is it a particular occasion today?»
«Yes, it is.» answers Saphir arranging the flowers on a big vase.
«Oh, is it... uhm, the anniversary of his death?»
«I tell you something, madame Améthyste: I always found extremely stupid to remember and honor the day of someone's death. I mean, I know more than I would the date and even the exact time when my husband died. And — unfortunately for my poor heart — I remember even better the pain of his loss; the desperation of conceiving a life without him; the frustration and the tremendous sense of guilt for being still alive when he is not anymore. No, I promised myself I would never ever honored that grievous day. To me that day is everyday.» She touches the photo of her husband and smiles despite the tears. «But yes, today is a special day, today it's our wedding anniversary. That is a day I want to remember and honor forever.»
Sibylle sobs once involuntarily stepping back a bit.
«I—I wait for you outside, okay?»
Saphir looks at her and smiles.
«No, stay here with me, madame Améthyste. You know, it's strange, I never talk about him with anyone, but telling you these things makes me feel better.»
Sibylle steps closer again.
«Tell me more, please. I want to know anything about this special man. He must have been a wonderful person if he left this emptiness inside you.»
«He was, indeed.»
Saphir begins to tell her of her husband, of that husband of whom nobody knew nothing. Of that immortal husband that no other man could ever replace. She tells Sibylle how they met, how he proposed. She even tells her of their first time, of their incredible passion. Saphir's voice is firm but emotional; sometime she laughs remembering something funny of the past, other times she seems about to sobs at the thought of not being able to see him anymore. The sun rays filter between the branches of the trees, stroking gently the graves all around.
«Now I tell you a funny thing, madame Améthyste. For years a black cat wandered here around, a beautiful black cat I often seen sleeping peacefully on Armand's grave. I was happy about it, he looked like a guardian or something. But now it's a year I don't see him anymore, probably is dead and this makes me sad, you know? I liked the idea of my husband having that big black one-eyed cat watching over him.»
Sibylle takes a deep breath.
«His name's Chocolat, Saphir.»
Saphir looks at her and Sibylle gives her one of her sweetest smiles.
«His name's Chocolat and he lives with me. Apart my own association, I am also patroness of the association that takes care of the cats of this cemetery. Chocolat lived in this place for long time, but last year he got sick and — since isn't easy to find a family for an elder cat — I adopted him. He is very well, you can come to see him whenever you want, in fact, I wanted to talk about that as well. A part a Sapphic rendezvous I want also book one of the Club's services. I want to organize an “all girls” evening at my place. It will be fun and you are formally invited too. Chocolat will be happy to see you again!»
Saphir smiles. She is happy to know the ‘guardian cat’ is doing well.
«Well, you know I never accept to see members outside the events, but this time I cannot decline. I want to congratulate with you for your commitment with your associations. It's a great thing and I'm happy to know there are people that take care of those creatures in need.»
«Come, Saphir, I want to show you something.»
Sibylle leads her in a path among the graves.
«One of the many volunteers lady who take care of the cats of the cemetery died some months ago. It has been a great loss, believe me. That woman was amazing: she lived in a small house, she never married and didn't have any kids, she didn't have a family. The cats were her only family. For twenty years — can you image Saphir? For twenty years! — she took care of them always with a smile upon her sweet face. Sunny, rainy, snowy, windy, she never missed a day. The cats loved her, and she loved them even more. She couldn't afford anything, but she always refused economical help from me or any other person. She said she had all that she need. The only thing I did for her is this little mausoleum. The statue is a work of one of my friend, a sculptor, and I painted the ceiling of this mausoleum.»
She stops in front of a breathtaking tomb. Four columns hold a ceiling painted with a trompe l'oeil depicting a window from which one can see a forest; there are also four stairs of white marble that lead on a marble slab on which there is an incredible statue of a old smiling woman seated, and dressed in a tunic, like one of those of the angels. Two real cats are resting on her lap while three others take a nap at her feet on the marble warmed by the sun. Sibylle smiles emotively.
«We don't know why they come to this tomb, it seems that they understood that Aurore is resting here. You should have seen the surreal image of when we laid down her corpse here: there were cats everywhere! They all stayed in respectful silence for all the time.»
Sibylle shows the epitaph and Saphir is touched by what she reads:
“Here lies Aurore
a lonely soul who taught us to love
woman of sorrow who taught us to smile.
She lived owning nothing
and yet she leaves a wonderful inheritance.
Thank You for have lived.”
Saphir looks at Sibylle, whom is wiping her tears.
«Her best friend wrote those words. That one, instead, is the phrase that Aurore asked us to write on her headstone.» explains Sibylle pointing up.
Saphir raises her gaze and reads:
“Let the cats sleep on my grave.”
Saphir swallows a sob and walks away without saying a word. Sibylle runs next to her, respecting her silence.
«You know, madame Améthyste, I never thought about it.» confesses to Sibylle. «But now I'm wondering who will miss me when I'm gone, a part Drakkar.»
Sibylle squeezes gently her shoulder.
«I will, Saphir.»
Saphir smiles. They walk in the path skirted by tall cypresses.
«You want to know something funny, Sibylle? It's something that came in my mind just now, and it's something no one knows.» She stops and looks intensely at Sibylle. «My husband didn't die instantly, he had the time to turn to look at me and say: “I've cheated on you. For all these years I cheated on you”.»
Sibylle frowns. Saphir smiles sadly and shakes her head.
«Can you believe it? He told me that lie because he realized he was dying and he didn't want me to suffer. He preferred to tell me that lie so I could replace the sadness with the anger.»
Sibylle doesn't tell her what she is really thinking, so she nods and then changes the subject and talks about the two evening she wants to organize; the one with Nymphe and the other one with her friends. Saphir listens carefully and nods often. When they arr
ive at the exit of the cemetery there is Yves waiting for Saphir next to the black car. He is wearing his dark chauffeur uniform.
«Madame.» he says to Saphir opening the car door.
Sibylle and Yves smile at each other. Sibylle thinks he is really an handsome man.
«So, madame Améthyste», says Saphir, «see you soon. I'll call Nymphe as soon as I arrive to the office. I'll work on your requests and I'll organize a rendezvous with the elite men of the Club. As for the “all girls night” count me in.» And winks at her before entering the car.
A minute later, Sibylle waves at the car leaving. Nora goes next to her holding a soft cat in her arms. Sibylle looks at her and strokes the cat, then she notices Virginie nearby arguing with an old lady.
«What's going on?» asks Sibylle.
«Gah, nothing. Just Virginie that doesn't mind her own business, like always. She felt obliged to tell the lady she was wearing a horrible dress and now she is giving her some clothing advices, but the lady is obviously angry at her and doesn't listen.»
Sibylle smiles and heads to the bungalow together with Nora, whom says something cryptic:
«Pretty busy the grave of this Armand.»
«What you mean?» asks Sibylle.
«Well, he gets visits from the lady you were talking to; then from a man who comes here when he is drunk to yell at the tombstone in anger; then comes another woman, younger than this one, who cries like she was his wife. And then, rarely, comes even the man that was at the Gallery.»
Sibylle stops and stares at her.
«Wait a moment— “A woman who cries like she was his wife”?»
«Yes, younger and beautiful. She is more beautiful than the lady it was here, but she hasn't her class at all. She usually comes early in the morning or late in the evening, as if she wants to be sure not to meet other visitors.»
Sibylle puts a hand on her mouth, understanding who that woman could be. So Saphir's husband didn't lie to her, he really cheated on her! He just wanted to die with a clear conscience.
«And the drunk man?» asks again Sibylle.
«I don't know, he just came few times to yell against the tomb. And there is also the man I met at the Gallery.»
Sibylle starts to walk again.
«There were so many people that evening, Nora.»
The cat runs away from Nora's arms so the girl can now use her hands to describe a tall man.
«Yes, but there was only a man like that man. How come you didn't remember? That massive man who released pheromones just with his presence. Come on, Siba, how can't you remember?! Every woman in the Gallery was about to fall on their knees and begs him to fuck them! I was about to fall too! And I'm a lesbian. Hmmm, what was his name.... Oh yeah! Romain.»
Sibylle stops for the third time.
«What?»
«Romain.»
«What?»
«Romain!»
«What?!»
«Romain, Siba! Romain!»
«Oh my— A tall man, with a warm deep voice, a capturing smile, beautiful piercing green-amber eyes?»
«That's him!»
Sibylle moves the hand to her temple.
«Nora, Romain... is Drakkar.»
Nora widens her eyes and burst into laughter tapping her hands on her own thighs.
«So, all your friends seen Drakkar's face, is it? Ha ha ha, we'll laugh at you forever for this!»
Virginie arrives and once she hears about Drakkar she laughs at her too.
All three go back to the bungalow where during the lunch Sibylle tells them everything about the night at the Palace. She spends many hours talking and laughing with them, then she decides to leave to meet Amelie, the old ‘feathered’ lady from the Gallery.
Amelie's villa is situated just outside the city of Versailles, and it's a grandiose building from the 1920's. Sibylle is driving her colorful and noisy car on its private the tree-lined path. She parks in the courtyard before the villa and when she gets off the car a girl runs in front of her. Sibylle raises both her eyebrows: the smiling girl is wearing a pair of red knee socks, a black lace panties, she is topless and has a long elegant red hooded coat on her shoulders. She is also holding an open handled basket. Her make-up is just perfect and her hair is tied in two side ponytails. She looks over her back and runs away laughing. Sibylle petrifies when two naked men arrive there; they are wearing just a pair of combat boots and hairy werewolf masks. They look around growling.
«Where did she go?» asks one of them.
Sibylle points at the private wood to the left.
«Thanks!» they say in unison running that way and howling loudly.
«Sic her, boys!» shouts Sibylle amused.
«My deawest Sibylline!» chirps Amelie going to her. «We awe here, deaw, come!»
Sibylle smiles and runs to hug her tight, making the woman almost cry.
«Aww, I love you too, Sibylline, my child.»
Sibylle moves back and looks at her in admiration.
«Oh Amelie, you look so fine. The Steampunk style suits you perfectly!»
It is true, the old lady wears that style divinely. She is dressed in a long Victorian taffeta dress of two nuances of red. The wide skirt has the heavy fabric in the back folded many times as to form many waves. The white lace blouse is lovely and the dark rigid corset is adorned with many metallic cables and strange buttons. She is also wearing a black top hat with a pair of brass welding goggles wrapped around it.
«Oh, thank you, my deaw.» She takes Sibylle arm-in-arm and leads her to the vast garden which is part of her private park. «You awwived just in time fow the dessewt, my deaw. This mowning I decided to have bweakfast with fwiends, but you know how I hate nowmal things, so I asked my fwiends to dwess in Steampunk style. What a suwpwise when my deaw — deawest fwiends — awwived with those fabulous dwesses! We all wewe so beautiful that I called a photogwaphew fwiend of mine to immowtalize us. We just finished to pose fow the photos. If youw mothew wewe hewe she would have loved this day.» Amelie looks up to the sky and smiles while the memories of her best friend caress her mind like a breeze that gently touches the surface of a lake. «She loved costumes. She loved being with hew fwiends.» she sighs softly. «But on a totally different subject, deaw, I wanted to tell you to not be shocked if you see wunning awound a giwl dwessed like wed widing hood and two men dwessed like wewewolves. They awe— how can I put it? — they awe wealizing an ewotic fantasy of theiws. I make my villa available to a Club that— Oh, it's too complicated, I don't want to bowe you, Sibylline.»
Sibylle giggles.
«Amelie, are you talking about the Club D?»
The lady joins her own hands as she jumps in surprise.
«Sibylline! How do you—?»
«I'm a member of it.»
«Oh!» Amelie throws up her arms in celebration. «Finally you decided to get that howwible — howwible! — man out of youw mind! Sibylline, my house is youw house, and if you need it fow a wendezvous you have only to ask.»
The lady puts an arm around Sibylle's shoulders and leads her to the garden where a dozen people dressed in fine Steampunk clothes are enjoying the dessert, sitting on blankets on the meadow and talking mannerly.
Sibylle holds her breath.
«Oh... It seems a Renoir painting—», she murmurs enraptured.
That people dressed in those Victorian-like clothes, wearing also strange brass parts are statically talking and sipping in the most perfect way, really seem the characters of a painting. The sun shines on them, the flowers and the trees seem drawn around the pond, and many aquatic birds doze on the crystal surface. Some small boats slip gently on the water, the men rowing slowly and the women holding a lace umbrella above their head.
Amelie smiles and introduce Sibylle to the others. Sibylle spends hours talking with many interesting people. People who may look ready for a carnival parade, but that are absolutely serious and calm in the way they are. Sibylle loves especially the men's clothes, they are really sophistic
ated and accurate in every detail. From the smallest detail like the brass of their garments, to the strange weapons with complicated mechanisms.
After a few hours, Sibylle wants to talk alone with Amelie: she need to tell her about Drakkar and the fact that lately Claude has almost disappeared from her thoughts. Amelie reacts with great joy at this news so decides to give her a divination.
The old woman, in fact, is the most famous seer of France, and her divination with precious stones is legendary.
She leads Sibylle to her ‘prohibited garden maze’ where no one is allowed without her permission. Amelie and Sibylle walk without saying a word. Sibylle knows the lady is concentrating, so she remains in respectful silence. The maze paths become narrower and the green hedges become higher. Suddenly the sky darkens and begins to thunder loudly. Now Sibylle is looking up smiling and enjoying that beautiful leaden sky; she closes her eyes and breaths deeply, feeling strangely free. She does like the stormy atmosphere. Amelie is still completely absorbed in her thoughts, in a sort of meditation. They arrive at the center of the maze, and Amelie stops near the large spiral at the center of the labyrinth and sits on the ground. Sibylle does the same. The old woman takes a white lace sachet from her pocket.
«Open youw hands, deaw.»
Sibylle extends her cupped hands and receives 28 small precious stones and semi precious stones, then she closes her eyes and concentrates, knowing what to do. She drops the stones in the center of the spiral and Amelie looks at them for long. The old woman begins to pick them up one at a time, starting with those more outward.
«No...», sighs in frustration Amelie.
Sibylle is alarmed, but waits for her to speak. Amelie collects almost all the stones leaving only three on the spiral: a purple crystal, a transparent stone and a black smooth stone. She softly touches one closing her eyes and finally looks at her.
«Sibylline, this amethyst is you.» she says showing her the purple crystal. «You awe faw fwom both those two stones ovew thewe and you awe looking at them because you feel undecided between this twanspawent quawtz and this black onyx. Claude is the quawtz, while this beautiful black onyx is the Dwakkaw you told me about. In the black onyx I see a man with no face; I see a bull, a scowpion.» She closes her eyes for a second. «I see a falcon. A beautiful and majestic falcon.» She opens them again. «I don't know what that means, but what I see is a couwagious man, a stwong man, a good soul and a vewy vewy viwile male! He looks at you, he wants you, he deeply desiwes you, but it isn't in his natuwe to hunt; he wathew pwotects what alweady belongs to him. And you chose not to belong to him, not in the way he wants, at least. Sibylline, Claude is about to come back in youw life and he will unsettle it. You'll have to face an hawd choice: Claude ow Dwakkaw.»
The Black Onyx Pact Page 24
