by Irene Ferris
Marcus carefully weighed his answer. “I can’t make you stay. Only you can.”
“I know this.” Mathieu had seemed to regain some of his equilibrium. Marcus still couldn’t help thinking of him as lost kid, though. “I swore to help.” He sounded as if he was reminding himself of the only reason he had to keep going, the only reason to stay sane.
In the awkward silence between then, Marcus finally spoke. “Do you want some coffee? It’ll help warm you up.”
“Coffee?”
“Coffee.” Marcus said the word firmly. “Without it, everything in life turns into shit.”
“So that’s what I’ve been missing for the past eight hundred years?” Mathieu sighed. It seemed to Marcus that he was physically forcing all the small, shattered pieces of himself back together as he straightened up and then stood. “Why not? It can’t hurt, can it?”
Marcus shook his head. “Not as much as you’ve already been hurt, I’d think.”
“No.” There was a pause. “Nothing could ever hurt that much.”
“No,” agreed Marcus. “I didn’t think so.”
Later, Mathieu clutched the hot metal cup in his hands and watched the campsite stir to life around him.
Jenn and Marcus shared a tent, as did the two climbers who had helped Jenn get to the borders of his wards. There were some people watching him from the windows of the metal hut behind the test. There was the empty tent they’d set aside for him. And as these people went about their business, no one came near or spoke to him.
He smirked around the lip of the cup as he drank. Being a dangerous unknown quantity granted one some privacy, he supposed.
At first taste, coffee did not much impress Mathieu. When he’d said as much to Marcus, the blonde man had laughed and taken the bitter, dark brew from him and then presented him with something much lighter, sweeter and entirely much more to Mathieu’s preference. Being called a ‘Philistine’ about not wanting to drink coffee in its unadulterated form had rankled until he realized the man was joking with him.
Joking. With him.
“They’ll be here to take us down in about an hour.” Marcus had gestured to the north. “We’ll go to the Foundation’s local chapter house at Sanctuaire de Notre-Dame la Salette. Someone will meet us there with clean clothes and we’ll put together a passport for you. A quick shower and change and…” Marcus made a flying motion with his hands.
With a quick shake of his head, Mathieu imitated Marcus’ hand gesture. “And…?” He let his tone ask the question.
“And we’re off to New York.” Marcus waved away further questions as he poured another cup of coffee and walked back towards the tent where Jenn slept. “And now I have to venture into the den of the dragon. Pray for me.”
Mathieu cocked his head and smiled through his tension. “Prayers from such as me would not be heard, but you have them for the little they are worth. Die with honor, brave Chevallier.” He raised his cup of coffee in salute.
Marcus saluted back and then unzipped the flap of his shared tent, ducking in to face his dearest wife and wrest her from sleep’s loving embrace.
With a sigh, Mathieu turned back to his coffee and watched the climbers begin the process of disassembling the campsite to the sound of Jenn’s complaints at being woken.
When she had pulled up to a mostly sitting position, hunched under the sleeping bag with the cup of coffee held close to her chest. If Marcus had less of a survival instinct he might have pointed out her similarity to a gargoyle at that exact moment.
Instead he spoke quietly, “He’s still here. I almost thought he’d run during the night.”
Jenn shook her head and drank another gulp of coffee. “Of course he’s still here. He swore he’d help. People from his time tended to put a lot of emphasis on keeping promises.”
“Yeah.” Marcus looked over his shoulder at the closed tent flap. “I wonder if that applies to cases of insanity.”
“He’s not insane. He’s …” Jenn shrugged her shoulders and searched for the right word. “Fragile. He’s just fragile.”
“I say to-may-to, you say to-mah-to and they both mean the same thing. He’s bugfuck crazy and we both know it.”
Jenn shrugged. “It’s workable. Dwayne is fucking insane and look how great he is with divination.”
“Yeah, but being completely bugfuck crazy never hurt in divination—it could almost be considered a prerequisite. It could really hurt in this case though.”
Clutching the coffee closer, Jenn looked at him and said quietly, “He is Amanda’s only chance. You know that, I know that. Amanda’s dad knows that, which is why he’s spent all this money and goodwill with the Elders on coaxing him down. I can put up with a little bit of creepy gibberish if it brings her home safely.”
Marcus met her eyes squarely. “I’m not worried about creepy gibberish. I’m worried about people—mainly our friends—getting maimed or killed or worse when he cracks. And he will crack.” He paused and continued, “I don’t want hurting him on my conscience, either. I never thought I’d say this, but I feel sorry for him.”
“We’re not going to hurt him. He’s going to help us. He’s a great resource.” Jenn shrugged off the sleeping bag and started rooting around for her clothing. “Despite being the painfully polite and chivalrous stalker type.”
“I don’t think he means it that way.” Marcus peered out at the somber figure standing by the campfire. Mathieu had managed to put the maximum amount of distance between himself and the others and still remain in the ring of tents; he stood totally alone, even among people. “I don’t think he’d hurt you.”
“Oh, he’d die before he hurt me,” Jenn confirmed. “It’s just…” She made a searching gesture before saying the only word she thought fit. “Creepy. Having someone that knows someone you used be forever ago, someone that knows a you that doesn’t exist anymore, and knows things about you that you don’t even know and have no way of ever knowing?” She shuddered. “Creepy.”
Marcus teased, “Some women would think it horribly romantic. Unrequited love through the ages and all that jazz.” He looked at her, feigning fear. “Are we in trouble? Are you going to leave me for him?”
Jenn tossed a dirty sock at his head. “Hardly. I like my men human.” She sighed and continued. “Marcus, he’s not human. Hugh was very clear on this. He looks human and he sounds human and he acts human, but he is not human. We don’t know what he is, but we know what he’s not. He’s not one of us. Don’t fall into the trap of making him something he’s not. And who knows? Maybe being around us and actually doing something might bring him around to where he’s willing to work with us on a voluntary basis after all this is done—or we might find some way to trick him into a binding. It would be a waste to lose all that power and knowledge. ”
Watching his wife change clothing with as little bare skin exposed to the cold as possible amused Marcus on some deep level, but her words disturbed him there as well. “Maybe.”
“Definitely.” She winced as she pulled socks over her blistered feet. “Oh, God. My head is killing me and walking is going to hurt worse than yesterday, isn’t it?”
“Probably. But you won’t be walking far. Just to the helicopter and then across the tarmac to the car. Then the car to the house, but that’s several hours.”
Jenn groaned. “And to the bushes to pee and to the campfire to eat…”
“All downhill.” Marcus said cheerfully. “With a nice easy slope. Scenic, too.”
“I hate you.” Jenn hid her head under the sleeping bag again.
“I love you too, sweetheart.” Marcus smiled tenderly as he unzipped the tent flap and helped his wife hobble out to face the day.
Chapter Thirteen
The helicopter arrived soon after. It was a sleek machine, Mathieu thought. Blue and white with no weapons to be seen anywhere, it was used to carry people up and down the mountain, nothing else. It was almost reassuring to see that mankind could use something that could k
ill so many people in a way that brought them joy and ease.
He watched Jenn hobble over to the side of the machine and Marcus help her up into the passenger compartment. Marcus then turned and held his hand out. “Don’t be afraid. It’s just transportation. Nothing else, I promise. You can trust us.” He’d shouted to be heard over the noise of the blades, but Mathieu understood him well enough.
He approached the loud machine and laid his hands on the door. Visual inspection yielded nothing untoward, just a comfortable sitting area in which Jenn had sprawled, injured feet up already. She held out a hand to him as well.
He narrowed his eyes and looked from one of them to the other. He then did something that he would have never considered in any other situation.
It was a small pulse of power, barely noticeable. Hopefully. If there was a Demonic presence in the area, it might be picked up if something was looking at the right time in that direction. But it was worth the risk in his eyes.
Mathieu examined the machine inside and out with that small pulse. There were no traps, no circles, no containment. Nothing that could harm him, in any case. The doors would open and allow him to escape if needed.
Only then did he climb into the back and sit in the farthest possible corner from his new companions
Flight was a sickening sensation, unnatural to say the least. The clearing shrunk behind them and the hills below hurtled towards them with frightening speed. Mathieu had traveled in such ways before, but always with Gadreel and always hidden within himself.
It had been so much less terrifying when he’d been trapped in that small, safe place within with only a small window on the world.
They landed at a small airstrip not a moment too soon, at least for Mathieu’s taste. Jenn had enjoyed every moment, looking out the window and pointing out every vista while both Mathieu and Marcus had nodded in surprisingly similar detached acknowledgement.
A large dark vehicle was waiting for them at the airstrip, as well as a familiar face.
“Eddie Chan. I don’t know if you remember him.” Marcus introduced the young man with golden skin and almond eyes when they’d gotten out of the helicopter and away from the swirling blades.
“I remember you.” Mathieu leaned forward in a slight bow. “Well met, Eddie Chan. Please forgive me for hurting you before. It was not my intention.”
Eddie looked as surprised as Marcus looked indignant at the greeting. “I understand,” Eddie said. “Things were all FUBARed that day. We’re lucky we’re all still alive after that mess.”
“FUBARed?” Mathieu rolled the word around and then raised his eyebrows with a question.
“Oh.” Eddie smiled and giggled. “Messed up beyond all recognition. But worse.” He smiled and giggled again. “Guess you wouldn’t know that one, would you?” Eddie’s smile was as bright as his laughter and Mathieu could only smile back.
“No, I wouldn’t.” Mathieu looked towards the vehicle and then longingly back over his shoulder at the mountains. His peak was obscured by clouds. With a sidelong look at Jenn, he then laid his hands on the side of the SUV and once again released a small pulse of power. Hidden symbols and words flared to life on the side of the vehicle, reflecting the power back long enough to be read.
“You placed a charm on this vehicle.” He said it calmly even as his heart beat a little faster.
Eddie patted the side of the vehicle with visible pride. “Yeah. I put a concealment on it so that we could travel without being noticed. I worked on it all night.”
Mathieu read the symbols and followed the pattern of the spell back to its inception. There was nothing hidden, nothing that was a threat—at least nothing that he could detect. “I can see that. It is well wrought.” The compliment was genuine, even if it worried him that their spellcraft had improved from the last time he’d encountered it.
With a shake of his head, Marcus opened the back door and motioned to Jenn, who stood patiently on the tarmac but silently radiated pain all the same. “Get off your feet, sweetheart. I know you’re hurting.”
Jenn nodded at the seats in the back. “Mathieu first. I can’t possibly get back there with my feet like this and he’ll need to sit by himself if I’m judging correctly.” Eddie reached around cautiously and pulled a lever that tilted the middle seat forward.
Mathieu studied the seat. It was a small space. There was no easy way out. He could blow out the windows and escape if need be, but that would require him to use power. That power could attract unwanted attention or even worse, control over that power could be lost with disastrous results.
Jenn saw him hesitate. “Mathieu, nothing is going to happen to you. We need you, remember? We’re not going to break our promise to you.”
He thought about that for a moment and then nodded. “Forgive my suspicions. I have become unused to trusting others.”
He climbed in gracefully and tried not to jump when Eddie moved the middle seat back, effectively trapping him. Instead he focused on exploring his area.
The seats were soft tan leather and individual vents blew cold, conditioned air. He noted he could control the temperature from his seat.
Marcus had helped Jenn up into the middle seats, where she immediately taken off her boots and peeled off her socks with an almost indecent groan of pleasure. Her feet, blisters and all, were currently propped on the armrest next to the window.
Eddie climbed into the driver’s seat and Marcus claimed the passenger side. Referring to a map while he turned the key in the ignition, Eddie called back, “Next stop, Sanctuaire de Notre-Dame la Salette, suspended between earth and sky. God, I love this country.”
“How long?” Marcus leaned over to see the map that Eddie held in his lap.
Eddie tossed the map at him and put the vehicle in gear. “We have to go roundabout because of the mountains. We’re going to circumvent Grenoble, and any other sizable place. So, that’ll be at least four hours of curvy roads. You might as well take a nap now ‘cause you’re my back-up driver.”
“Great.” Marcus’ voice made it clear he thought it was anything but.
“The burdens of leadership are many, my friend. Here’s another one to shoulder.”
“Fuck you.” Marcus laughed as he reclined the front seat to sleep. He absently reached over to pat Jenn’s leg, and found her already asleep.
Mathieu hugged himself tightly and watched them all from the back seat as the road unrolled behind them.
Chapter Fourteen
Jenn woke and looked out the window at the hills and mountains that filled the horizons. There was the occasional farmhouse but otherwise there was no sign of civilization.
She rubbed the sleep from her eyes and asked, “Where are we?”
“The middle of nowhere,” Eddie answered cheerily.
She stretched and looked into the back seat where Mathieu had curled up, knees to chest. He rested his chin on his folded arms while he looked out the window. His eyes were distant, but the sun lit them to an almost amber tone.
After a moment she spoke, “Does it remind you of your home?”
He started at the sound of her voice but composed himself quickly. “No, but it is beautiful here.”
“Are you from around here, Mathieu?” Eddie glanced back into the rear-view mirror to look at his passengers.
Jenn answered before Mathieu could speak. “No. He’s from further west, around Tours. A sweet little village near the Loire.” She smiled back to Mathieu and shrugged. “I was there, looking for you.”
With a nod, Mathieu spoke again. “I’m sure I wouldn’t recognize it now. Back then it was really nothing but farms and vineyards. The monks at the abbey made a wine that was served at the king’s table.”
“The wine is still famous, you know. And the Abbey is still there.” Jenn spoke casually. “I mean, the monks aren’t there anymore, but the Abbey is. There are some nuns, too. They give tours.”
Mathieu shook his head. “What a strange thought: tours of God’s house. Not t
hat I would want to see that place again. I have seen enough of that chapel floor to last me for a very long, very unnatural lifetime.” He laughed out loud at that statement.
At that Marcus looked back from the front seat. He met Jenn’s eyes with some surprise.
Jenn finally screwed up her courage to ask. “What’s so funny?”
Eyes dancing with humor in the light, Mathieu leaned forward and spoke quickly, his hands dancing as he spun the tale.
“We lived near enough to the Abbey as befitted our dubious rank. Your rank was better, of course, because you lived with Uncle but you were close too. Our lands all abutted. And you had that pony, the one with the horrible temper. It didn’t matter how fractious or disobedient that damned thing was because you loved it more than anything in the world.
“You’d braid flowers into its mane and give it special treats and sing songs to it. It hated everyone but you.”
“Did it?” Jenn shook her head and smiled weakly. “I don’t remember any of this.”
“Oh, yes. It was a foul-tempered little beast, that one. I lost count of the times it chased Martin around the barn, or the times bit me when I tried to feed it a treat. I still have the scars.” He held up his perfect, unmarred hands and then folded them awkwardly together. “Or I did, before…”
Jenn nodded and urged him back to the story. “Martin was your older brother, right?”
“One of them.” Mathieu answered, warming up again to the story. “That stupid creature got out one day and wandered off somewhere. You were inconsolable so Martin and I–like the good, chivalrous knights we dreamed of being—went searching and found that damned thing in the monk’s vineyard.”
“It had run around and eaten the grapes and uprooted the vines where it had broken through the rows. Ah, the damage it caused.”
He laughed again. “We frantically tried to repair the damage, or at least conceal it,” He made gestures of trying to replant and retie the vines and then smooth the earth. “But we were caught there with the stupid ill-tempered creature that despised us and kept trying to bite us and kick us, that kept tearing up more and more of the vines the more it struggled.”
