When it was Chastel’s turn he touched her arm and asked, “You sure, you’ll be fine?”
“Yes, I’ll be fine. It’s not far, anyway.”
Over Pauline’s head Chastel and Kylian exchanged glances, their expression unreadable but I felt as if some kind of common accord unknown to me had been reached.
I hugged Pauline a last time. “Lock the doors as soon as you’re home.” She rolled her eyes and laughed, heading off. “Sweet dreams.”
While Pauline was walking home we took off into the opposite direction, heading for the square Place de la Bastille, passing the softly lit cafés and bars crowded with tourists.
“So this is the place where the famous Bastille prison stood?” Kylian asked.
Since the Patronesses of Paris have been around for a quite some time, knowing the city’s history was kind of inevitable. So I decided to give him a tour of history. “Yep, the Bastille was originally built in the 1370s as part of the city’s defenses, as the meaning of the word is actually ‘stronghold’ or ‘bastion’, but it was converted into a prison by command of the king in the 17th century. Political and religious prisoners were primarily housed there. Well, that was before the monarchy abused on so called lettres de cachet and the king could imprison and sentence you without trial. The prison kind of acquired a bad rep after that. And though it wasn’t even one of the worst prisons in France, it was said to be a place of horror and oppression, and a symbol of autocratic cruelty.”
“Nice. You like history?”
“It comes with the job. And, well, it’s my city and you know how those places are,” I frowned, then smiled, “or maybe not. They affect not only the prisoners but also the surroundings. A prison seldom brings out the best of you, mostly it’s the contrary. So even today after all this time, after that famous July 14th 1789 when the neglected, starving people of Paris stormed La Bastille and triggered the physical destruction of the monarchy, you can still feel the nasty magic that building has left behind. Frustration, anger, aggression, all the bad stuff is a little nearer to the surface. Do you feel it?”
He frowned and was quite for a moment, focusing on his inner self. “You’re right.”
“Most people shrug it off and say ‘it’s the traffic noise’ or ‘it’s the pollution’, stuff like that, although that’s the case for every big crossroad in Paris.”
“Humans like to ignore such things and when they can’t, they find lousy excuses,” Chastel pointed out.
Kylian nodded. “Is it always like this, the bad magic I mean?”
“Hardly surprising that nearly every demonstration or protest march passes this place, don’t you think. But to answer your question, no, it’s not always bad. Sometimes the place inspires good stuff, which must come from the residual magic of the people storming the Bastille. I mean, there’s power behind that. A people going up against the cruelty they had to bear. Then concerts and similar events are the order of the day.” I smiled at him.
We’d crossed the square and took Rue de Rivoli. There were a lot of people in the streets after the heat wave had forced them to stay inside during the day. Now it seemed they were rebelling, and enjoying the air that was still warm but pleasantly so.
We turned left into the small labyrinth of passageways. And surprised a young man stealing a woman’s purse. Both were human. Before Chastel and I could do anything, Kylian took one great leap, grabbed the little thief by his throat, lifting him clear off the ground.
Kylian’s eyes glowed in an icy blue as he growled, “You don’t want to do that ever again, am I right?”
The boy looked at him wide-eyed and terrified. He stuttered, “Never again.”
The Alpha Stare. Kylian had used his I-command-obedience power, innate to dominant shapeshifters. Thing is, that the alpha uses it in the pack - and only in the pack - to guide and help pack members controlling the animal inside of them – and not on humans. I really admired that boy for even answering and not wetting his pants.
Kylian let go of the boy, who immediately made a quick getaway. I grabbed the purse the boy had dropped while dangling in Kylian’s grip and gave it back to the woman, who muttered a confused ‘thank you’ and took off, too.
Since we were alone again, I turned around to Kylian, “Are you out of your freaking mind?”
He blinked at me, surprised, “What the hell do you want? He learned his lesson, that’s all.”
His surprise was odd, but his blithe answer made my blood boil again. Did he really not care? No, that wasn’t possible, right? It was the Council’s law, he would respect that. Maybe the residual magic from Bastille had played a dirty trick on his mind?
“Yes, but did you have to use the Stare for that?”
Now truly confused, he frowned, “I did what?” He looked at Chastel for confirmation, who nodded.
“Yep, dude, she’s right.”
He pinched the bridge of his nose, then sighed, “Shit, I didn’t even notice it.”
Chastel gave Kylian a pat on the back in a friendly, typical manly way. “That’s okay, just don’t do it again or I have to kill you.”
Kylian snorted and arched his brows in disbelief, “Like to see you try.” All of a sudden Kylian tensed, lifting his head to sniff the air. Dead serious he asked, “Is there by any chance a slaughter house nearby?”
Huh? I frowned. “No, not that I know of.”
“That’s what I thought. Then we have a problem. There’s a heavy scent of blood and death in the air. Lots of blood.”
Alarmed and without a second thought I unsheathed Cutter in one fluid motion and demanded, “Where? Take us there!”
We chased through the labyrinth of streets, dread gnawing away at me until we turned one last corner, and there the thick scent of death hit me full force, slamming into my gut. The horrible scene a few yards ahead of us, made me abruptly stop in my tracks.
It was a bloody mess. I drew slowly nearer, till I could make out the mangled, naked bodies of five women. Blood stained their pale, grayish skin and the ground. Their eyes were open, wide in horror.
“What the hell?” Chastel looked a little shaken, too.
Bundles of fur were lying here and there, five in all, making me first think the victims might be shapeshifters.
“Cats,” Kylian murmured then, glancing into my direction.
And the truth dawned upon me. “Witches, and their cats.”
That really made me angry. Witches and cats belonged together. Cats not only housed the souls of deceased witches, but they also guided the new witch they assigned themselves to. They protected her from evil, and they lent their powers if they deemed it necessary. And when a witch died, her cat would take her soul, ensuring an afterlife. If a cat carried nine souls, it would die, too, releasing the souls, so they would be reborn. By killing those cats, the murderers made sure more than one soul would be dead and not able to be reborn, weakening the witches’ bloodlines.
I tucked Cutter away and wanted to examine the scene a little closer when Kylian suddenly asked, “Where did your sword come from earlier? And while we’re at it, where did it go just now?”
That’s why I preferred working alone; then no one would annoy me with such questions and force me to lie. I pulled Cutter again, and showed them first the sword and then the now visible harness on my back, explaining in a light tone, “It’s magically treated to avoid anxiety problems and awkward questions from the police or bystander during my patrol.” Hoping that was answer enough I crouched down, beside one of the bodies and took out my cell, “I’ll take pictures.”
His brows drawn tight Kylian seemed to mull it over, but then he nodded and didn’t push the matter.
Chastel knelt down beside me, taking a good look at the wounds, too.
“I’ll check the scene for scents”, Kylian announced, and we all went to work, fast and in silence.
When we were finished and I wondered about calling Mathieu for acid, Chastel pulled out a little bottle from the insides of his leathe
r jacket, pouring only a few droplets on every body, which immediately disintegrated.
My eyebrows climbed up to my hairline, as I stared at Chastel in surprise. “Later, if we have time, you’ll need to tell me what you just used. Might come in handy in my line of work, too.”
He grinned back. “Sure, no prob.” Turning to Kylian he continued, “So what did you catch?”
“Four unknown creatures, of which I recognize two from the first CS. And I’m now officially a hundred percent sure that there are feathers involved.”
“No witnesses?” Chastel asked in disbelief.
Kylian shook his head, “No.”
Standing up I turned around to look at the golden illuminated cathedral Notre Dame de Paris rising up to the starlit night sky.
And I grinned. “There might be one.”
Chapter 11
We’d ended up south of the river Seine, and now I was running towards Notre Dame as fast as I could, crossing a small, cast-iron bridge, leaving Kylian and Chastel a little stunned behind. Excitement rushed through me, and a strange, tingling feeling that quite often had showed that I was on the right track. I was heading for the east side of the cathedral, the long, exterior apse. As I passed the big rose window I began to call out for our possible witness.
“Quasi? Quasi, are you there? I need your help.”
I waited a little. In the meantime Chastel and Kylian caught up with me looking rather intrigued.
A hunched creature appeared on the roof, his dark silhouette standing out against the moonlit sky. He took a great leap and landed on a flying buttress, one of the many arched exterior supports and also a hallmark of gothic architecture, to get a better look. “Maiwenn, is that you?” He asked in a gravelly and husky voice, as if using it very seldom – which was actually the case.
“Yes, it’s me. Can we come in?”
“Sure, I’ll open the door.” And as suddenly as he’d appeared, he was gone.
“Let’s go”, I whispered to the guys and we took off to the big and famous western facade of Notre Dame, with its rose window and two towers. Of the three heavy and richly ornamented doors, the one to the right was opened as promised and so we went inside.
Thanks to the lights, illuminating the cathedral on the outside, it wasn’t exactly pitch-black inside, but my eyes still needed a moment to adjust to the darkness that greeted us.
Quasi was hiding in the shadows, always careful of straying beams of moonlight falling in through the leaded windows. I’ve known him ever since I was a child and have seen his face only once, and even that was by accident. No idea why he wanted to hide it. Quasi wasn’t ugly, in fact he was rather handsome in an exotic, different kind of way and if he drew himself up to his full height, instead of walking around as if carrying a heavy load on his back, he would be rather tall. Probably reaching six-foot-six. Well, kicking habits wasn’t easy. And Quasi had been around now for quite some time, although I didn’t have a clue as to for how long exactly or what the heck he even was.
“Maiwenn, nice to see you again. It’s been a long time.”
“Only two weeks, Quasi”, I reminded him softly.
He sounded surprised, “Really? Ah, time is an indecisive thing. Sometimes it just flies by and marches on, other times it crawls at a snail’s pace.”
I smiled at that. “May I introduce to you, Kylian Tremaine and Jean Chastel.” Turning around to the guys I announced, “This is Quasi.”
“Nice to meet you,” Kylian said, whereas Chastel looked at me with wide eyes. “Quasi? As in Quasimodo?”
I nodded and grinned. After introductions were made, Quasi cut to the chase. That was one of the things I really liked about him. Though he was a lonely man – sometimes deliberately so, sometimes not – he didn’t waste his time with unnecessary stuff. Well, at least not when I needed his help.
“How can I help you, Maiwenn?”
“There’s been a murder on Rue Saint-Julien le Pauvre. Did you happen to see someone in that alley, say in the last forty-five minutes?”
“I’m afraid not. I’m sorry. I’ve been in the garden, checking on the roses. But maybe the gargoyles did. You know they see everything.”
I grimaced. The gargoyles. I’d really hoped it wouldn’t come to that, but Quasi was right, they saw everything. Because I couldn’t chuck away that chance for information I nodded, “Okay, I’ll speak to them.”
Quasi turned around, quick as a flash, and lead the way to take us upstairs.
While we were climbing up to the top of the towers, Chastel whispered from behind me, “The gargoyles? If you are going to do what I imagine you’re going to do, then I don’t see how they could help us. They look out to the west, right? How could they have witnessed a murder that happened in a street southeast from here?”
Over my shoulder I whispered back, “Because gargoyles are one of the oldest species still around, and so is their magic. Don’t search for logic where it isn’t welcome, the only thing you’ll get is a bad headache.” I turned to look at the guys, really appreciating the fact that for once I wasn’t forced to look up at both of them thanks to the few steps separating us. “Now both of you, shut up! Let me do the talking and, please, don’t say a word. I really mean it, they don’t like interruptions.” I admitted I was a little on edge and harsher than I meant to be, but the prospect of talking to the gargoyles always had that effect on me. I could never know what would happen up there.
“This situation is just so surreal. I’m even too stunned to remind you of the futility of ordering me around. Must be that suicidal urge of yours,” Kylian commented.
Now it was my turn to be stunned. “Let me see, if I got that right. A man like you, that turns himself into an enormous animal, finds the existence of Quasimodo and a nearing conversation with stone waterspouts surreal?” I just shook my head in disbelief and went on climbing the stairs.
Once arrived on top of Notre Dame I had to admit the view was spectacular, but unfortunately we didn’t have the time to enjoy it.
As always Quasi didn’t waste time, so he began to rumble something in an unknown language that sounded a lot like stone grinding on stone, piercing marrow and bone.
Slowly two of the gargoyles began to scrunch and to move. With a deep sigh a cloud of dust escaped the old walls of the cathedral, which was immediately whirled around by a sudden gust of wind. As the breeze died away and the dust settled on the ground the two rudely awakened gargoyles turned and flew towards us with two quick flaps of their small wings. Although they weren’t stone-still anymore, they were still stone, as if they consisted of liquid cement. They looked a lot like Yoda, just in gray and with wings and bigger teeth.
I cleared my throat, holding my fingers crossed that my muse was around here somewhere. “Did you by any chance, shot at the incident in the little passageway a glance?”
One of them answered in a mean, but also child-like voice, “Maybe we saw someone, maybe not.”
“That depends on you, a lot,” the other added.
They always did this, not only speaking in end rhymes, but also finishing one another’s sentences. Well, we all had our little quirks and whims, and considering their age it probably stood to reason.
“In exchange for what you know, I’ll give you whatever equally good I owe.”
The gargoyles turned to each other for a moment, and then nodded as if silently coming to an agreement. They looked back at me, setting their conditions, one beginning a line and the other one ending it, as usual.
“For what you’ll be told
you’ll have to protect someone dear we hold.
From his deep sleep he will soon awake,
putting both your lives at stake.
Not only protection but also guidance he’ll need,
so if you accept, the vow with blood you have to feed!”
Oh, for crying out loud. They wanted me to play bodyguard? That meant another full-time job, 24/7 - and that for the rest of my life, thanks to the blood vow that wo
uld bind me to this mystery person. I already had enough on my hands as it was. Dammit. Who the hell they’d want me to protect anyway? Gargoyles protected churches, reminding humans of evil and harmful spirits with their grotesque faces. Why would they want someone to be protected by me? They were observers and not participants. Did they want me to protect a human? But why would a human be of such importance to them?
The gargoyles were waiting for my answer, and their set faces made it clear that they wanted it now. It was take it or leave it. I had to make a decision. At least gargoyles were good creatures, we were on the same side. I hoped that hadn’t changed. Although I tried to avoid giving my blood for stuff like this as much as possible, they had my attention. Now, I was intrigued as to whom I had to protect and why they’d take in interest.
So I pulled out Cutter. “Your request, I accept.”
I knew what would happen and I didn’t want Kylian or Chastel to see all of it, so I moved to stand in a way they couldn’t see exactly what I was doing. One of the gargoyles stretched out his hand, palm up and began to chant in their rocky language while I sliced my wrist with the sharp blade. Slowly thick, dark red droplets of blood began to trickle along my skin. When they fell into the gargoyles palm the blood burst with a hiss into a swirling dust, first blue-green then quickly changing to a soft gold.
The gargoyle raised his voice, shouting one last word and threw his palm up in the air. The spinning cloud of dust was pushed into the night sky, where it lingered for a second, searching its target. Then it shot forwards in a wide arc and like a falling star, just as fast, it was out of sight.
My blood had found the person the gargoyles had assigned me to protect, the so called Binder. I was the Committer. The cloud would lose its coloring and be inhaled by the, at this time hopefully and probably, sleeping person. Our blood would mix, and we’d technically be bound together, although in this case the vow would become effective not until after the Binder’s awakening, which probably meant The Turn. And therefore left me a few months of independence.
Suddenly, just for a short moment, the skin around my wound burned white hot, revealing an intricate flame-colored symbol. Before I had the slightest chance to get a real glance at it the pain and the symbol both were gone. Dammit. I knew it showed the Binder’s coat of arms, and therefore it could have given me a clue as to what kind of creature I had to protect. Now it would only return until after the blood vow came into force, then marking my skin like a tattoo. A silent and constant reminder of my task, my commitment.
Blue Moon Rising (The Patroness) Page 12
