Mathieu

by Irene Ferris

  They passed through a hallway and to a room that seemed a little apart from the others. “Here.” Hugh opened the door to a small bedroom. He paused and then looked at Mathieu. “Can you save her?”

  Mathieu found it hard to meet the man’s eyes. “I don’t know,” he finally answered. “I will try my best but I do not know what has happened to her yet.”

  “No. Of course not.” Hugh’s eyes glimmered in the dim light of the hall. “She’s a good girl, you know. Headstrong as hell, but good. I mean, she wasn’t top of her class in any way, shape or form. And she had no interest in taking up the family business. But she’s a good girl. She means well, even if she’s a bit rebellious at times.”

  “Children can be that way.” Mathieu shook his head. “I never had the opportunity to have children of my own of course, but it is a well-known fact that they exist solely to vex their parents.” He gave a small strained chuckle under his breath. “After all, that is what we did and it seems to be a long held tradition.”

  Hugh smiled and shook his head, leaning against the wall. “She didn’t believe in any of this, you know. She thought it was a bunch of hocus-pocus hooey. And when she went off to do her own thing, I didn’t stop her…” The man’s shoulders hitched with a sob. “And I should have. I should have done something. I should have protected her.”

  This was uncomfortable to say the least. Mathieu hesitated and then spoke. “I have learned that ‘should haves’ and ‘might have beens’ are worthless. All that matters is what happens now. Perhaps you should have protected her. But you didn’t. Now you must do what you can from here on in. Wallowing in the past does not help the future. God knows I have learned that painful lesson well enough.”

  “Swear to me that you’ll kill that creature and save her.” Hugh looked up. “If you swear to it, I swear I’ll make sure you never have to deal with anyone from our group again.”

  It was tempting. They’d followed him to the top of a mountain and probed and prodded at his wards until he could barely stand to think of them. But he had to be honest. “I can’t swear to that. I want to, but I can’t. Even if I were to get her back tonight, I don’t know if what came back would be your daughter anymore.”

  Hugh’s face hardened. “No. I suppose you can’t. But you can still kill it.” After a moment he spoke again, his voice flat. “This is your room. Someone will be here soon to take your picture so that we can get a passport together for you. And we’ll bring new clothes too. You can’t wear that.” He gestured at Mathieu’s dark wool clothing. “You’d stick out like a sore thumb, and the last thing you need to do right now is that.”

  Mathieu bowed his head. “I thank you.” He hesitated and spoke again. “I am sorry that I cannot ease your mind. I will do my best, but I cannot lie to you. It would not be right to build false hope.”

  Hugh nodded. “Bear in mind my position. I will make things very hard for you if you fail to destroy that thing and bring her home in one piece. You don’t want me as an enemy.” Hugh paused before adding, “Or as a master.”

  In that moment Mathieu wondered if he might not be safer in the midst of a battlefield, surrounded by overwhelming feelings of hate and rage plus a few dozen or more Demons who would be drawn to the dark power that coursed beneath his skin like wolves to raw meat.

  “I do not want any enemies, and certainly want no master. I just want to be left alone.” Mathieu examined the room and found no sign of trickery or traps. “If you will excuse me.” He walked in and firmly shut the door in Hugh’s face.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Resting his forehead on the old wood, Mathieu allowed himself to sag against the door. “I can do this. I can do this.” He murmured the words to himself several times before finally straightening up and looking around the room.

  As promised, the room was mostly clean of magical energies. What there was seemed to be of very old origin and had worked its way into the very substance of the room.

  The walls were plaster with layer upon layer of paint, the outermost a bright white. The floor was old roughhewn wood planks. Mathieu would have preferred good, hard earth for spellcasting but this would work almost as well. An old wrought iron bed was in one corner with a simple wooden nightstand and lamp. On the opposite wall was an equally simple wooden dresser.

  There were two wooden doors besides the one he was currently leaning against. Upon investigation he found one led to a small closet and the other led to an equally small bathroom. The lone window looked out over a small garden area between the different wings of the sprawling house.

  “First thing first.” It was safe here to do small workings, he thought. He paused and stretched his senses as far as he could within the house to be sure no one—and nothing—was watching. Certain that it was safe, he traced a small symbol in the air with his hand.

  The glyph glistened golden in the air before twisting into a small empty circle of darkness. Mathieu closed his eyes and concentrated, thrusting his hand into the ring. His tongue absently wandered across his lips to the corner of his mouth as he searched for and then found what he was seeking.

  Darkness emerged from the darkness, followed by light. First a piece of charcoal, followed by a piece of chalk. Mathieu grabbed them from midair and made another gesture, this one wiping the small gate from existence. He paused again to “listen” and then turned back to his work.

  Walking the perimeter of the room, Mathieu carefully laid on his wards. They were stronger than the ones on the main house, but it was a worrying to think that they might not be strong enough if Hugh and the others decided that it might be a better move to force a binding instead of counting on his cooperation.

  Mathieu walked from wall to wall, inscribing glyphs in black and white that danced and writhed around each other. He crouched and drew on the floor, and then stood on tip-toe on the bed to inscribe the ceiling.

  After a moment’s thought, he drew glyphs on the back wall of the bathroom and on all the faucets and pipes leading into the fixtures. He’d learned to enjoy the benefits of hot water and indoor plumbing and saw no reason to deny himself that pleasure now.

  Standing in the middle of the small room, he checked each marking and then drew a mental map of what he wanted to protect. He spooled power out, watching as each group of glyphs in turn lit up and then disappeared, incinerated as the spell activated. .

  When he was done, the room was completely silent. The lingering feeling of magic from before was gone, replaced with nothing but a blankness that was soothing in its complete lack of sensation. He could feel himself relax muscle by muscle.

  Satisfied that he was at least temporarily safe, Mathieu then walked over to the window and opened it. He leaned out and rested his forehead against the tangible border of the wards slightly to look up. The stars were coming out as the sun faded from the sky. They were as silent as they had always been.

  He sighed in frustration and then paced the room. It seemed smaller with every step.

  A knock on the door distracted him. He stared at the door and then started when there was another knock.

  He slowly opened the door to find Marcus waiting in the hallway, a small suitcase in his hands.

  “I brought you some clothes and some other stuff.” Marcus made to enter the room but was stopped by the wards.

  Mathieu cocked his head and looked at the case in Marcus’ hands. “Just push it through. The wards are set so that no living thing can enter.”

  “Should I be offended that you don’t seem to trust me?” Marcus was tired, dark circles under his eyes seeming even darker in the half light from the hall.

  “I can’t control what you feel or don’t feel.” Mathieu wrapped his arms around himself. “Besides, I came all this way with you. I’d think that would salve your wounded pride.”

  “Maybe.” Marcus started to pass the case through the door when a cat wandered up behind him--a ginger tabby with a nicked ear. The cat purred and rubbed itself on Marcus’ leg and then walked int
o Mathieu’s room to investigate.

  Marcus raised an eyebrow and pulled the case back. “I thought you said that no living thing could go in there.”

  Mathieu glanced down at the animal and shrugged. “Except cats.” He paused and then reached down to stroke the animal. “I like cats.”

  “I’m beginning to think you don’t like me.” Marcus met Mathieu’s eyes across the doorframe, blue to brown. “I think we need to talk.”

  With a sigh, Mathieu touched the doorframe. “If you insist.” The wards parted enough for Marcus to hustle in. Marcus could feel the opening sealing behind him as he moved.

  The room felt strangely still, even to Marcus’ merely human senses. He looked up at the ceiling and then down at the floor while feeling for any type of disturbance. “You have got to teach me how to do this.” He knew there was awe in his voice but he didn’t care.

  Mathieu snorted. “No, I don’t think I do.” He took the suitcase from Marcus’ hands and placed it on the bed. The cat jumped up on the bed and explored the bag with feline thoroughness.

  “Why not?” Marcus walked up behind the slender figure next to the bed. “This is just amazing. I’ve never felt anything this strong or complete before.”

  “Because if I taught you how to make it, I’d also be teaching you to unmake it. I don’t want you to have that kind of power over me.” Mathieu unzipped the suitcase and opened it. The cat jumped in immediately.

  “I wouldn’t do anything like that.” Marcus reached in and grabbed the cat out of the bag. Mathieu absently stroked the cat as it went past.

  “Forgive me if I don’t quite believe you.” Mathieu sighed and then continued, “You said you didn’t think I liked you. I don’t, but it’s not personal. I’m fairly sure that I’m not capable of feeling anything for anyone anymore.” Mathieu picked up a piece of clothing from the bag and examined it.

  “You like Jenn.” Marcus said it accusingly as he held the purring cat in his arms.

  Mathieu’s shoulders sagged. “No, I don’t. I remember some part of her that used to be someone I loved long, long ago. And I remember that I did love that part of her back when I was capable of loving, and I honor that memory. But I don’t ‘like’ her. There is a difference, you realize.”

  “No, I don’t realize.” Marcus gestured towards the clothes and changed the subject. “Someone here guessed your size just by looking at you. I shouldn’t be surprised, I suppose. After all, we’re in France. Great food, great fashion.” The cat began to struggle so he dropped it to the bed again. “There’s shower stuff in there too.”

  “In my youth, too much bathing was considered a sign of vanity and sinfulness.” Mathieu stroked bottles of shampoo and body wash absently.

  “In this day and age it’s considered more of a courtesy to the people around you.” Marcus smiled as Mathieu snorted.

  “Yes, I can understand that. Trust that I’ve never been adverse to a little hot water. There were some old Roman baths near my home and we visited them from time to time when I was growing up.” Mathieu tilted his head conspiratorially. “The monks hated that.”

  “The way you talk, it sounds like they just didn’t like you.”

  Mathieu paused for a moment. “There were issues.”

  Marcus waited for more information but there was only a long moment of uncomfortable silence. Finally he cleared his throat and spoke the words he’d been rolling around in his head for the past day. “Listen, I’m worried. We’re going into something dangerous and I’m worried that we can’t count on you to hold yourself together.”

  Clear, brown eyes met his. Mathieu nodded and waited for him to continue. “I mean you’re fine now, but you weren’t fine earlier tonight. You were fine this afternoon but you sure as Hell weren’t fine first thing this morning.”

  “I’m fine now because I’m in this room and behind not only my wards but the house’s wards.” Mathieu sat on the edge of the bed and picked up the cat. It molded itself into his lap and purred thunderously. “If I were outside, I’d more than likely be raving by now. Or worse.” He shuddered.

  “You can’t stay hidden forever.” Marcus was exhausted and the room’s strange dead feeling was starting to annoy him, anger him.

  “I tried but you and your friends wouldn’t let me.” Mathieu gave him the oddest look and then closed his eyes and breathed deeply. After a moment he opened his eyes again. “Strong emotions like what you’re feeling right now are… difficult. The more people, the stronger their emotions and the harder it is for me to focus. With many people, not only do I have problems with the emotions, but then I have the concern that I might attract attention from things I’d rather not.”

  “You’re going to have to pull it together and deal with it. I don’t know what else to tell you.” Marcus suddenly dropped to the edge of the bed next to Mathieu, frowning at the visible flinch the other man gave at the movement. He chose to ignore it and kept speaking. “I have a good group of people, a good circle. They’re looking to me for protection and guidance and I’m not going to let anything happen to them. That includes protecting them from you if you break. Which I think you will.”

  “I don’t know if I will or won’t, to be completely honest with you. I lack an anchor.” Mathieu had been shifting his position away from Marcus in slow, stealthy motions during their conversation. Now he stopped and gave Marcus a strange look as he continued, “When I was bound to Gadreel—as repugnant as that was--I had something to hold me steady. Now that he is gone I am adrift on currents I can’t navigate. I discovered quickly enough that the best way is to avoid the currents altogether—avoid humanity.”

  “You can’t avoid us forever.” Marcus leaned forward, eyes narrowed as a thought suddenly occurred to him. “Do you miss Gadreel?”

  Mathieu raised a hand away from the cat in his lap and ignored the sleepy protest the animal made as he brushed a dark lock of hair from his face. “I do not miss him. I think I miss the stability he gave me. I do still find myself searching for him sometimes, almost like feeling for a lost tooth with my tongue. But I don’t miss him or the things that he did.” He looked down at the cat and spoke again. “I will not be a burden to you, and I am not a threat. It may shock you but I still have a small measure of pride left to me. That miniscule shred will not allow me to be forsworn.”

  Marcus shook his head and then stood, this time slowly as to not alarm the other man. “We’ll have to see, I suppose. Tomorrow I have to get you through two airports, a transatlantic flight and security with a fake passport in a post 9-11 world. I’m going to bed. You should get some rest too.”

  He walked to the door, patted his pocket and then pulled out a small digital camera. “Damn. Nearly forgot. I need to get a picture so that they can cook up that passport for you tonight.”

  Mathieu nodded, gently placing the protesting cat on the bed before standing where he was told and allowing a rather grim looking photograph to be taken.

  Marcus grunted at the picture. “You look just like a criminal. Perfect.” He looked back at the door and placed his hand over the edge of the ward. “You have got to show me how to do this.” He didn’t wait for a response, just ran his hand over the wall before looking back over his shoulder. “Can you let me out?”

  “Gladly.” Mathieu placed his hand on the doorjamb and twisted the wards just so, expelling the other man with enough force to throw him into the far wall.

  “You don’t have to get pissy about it.” Marcus called over his shoulder as he walked down the hall.

  Mathieu just shook his head and closed the door, enjoying the silence and the companionship of the cat.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Jenn came early the next morning. Her blisters were mostly gone, but it still hurt to climb the stairs. The dishes and silverware on the tray she carried clattered with each step.

  When she reached the door at the far end of the hall, she saw that it was open just a crack.

  Shifting the weight of the tray in he
r arms, she knocked on the door. It swung open under her fist and she saw Mathieu sitting on the end of a bed that had not been slept in, looking out the window at the garden below.

  He’d dressed in some of the new clothes, a short sleeved dark gray shirt and a pair of tailored black trousers with some black leather loafers. His hair curled around his collar, still wet from the shower.

  Both he and the cat in his lap turned to look at her at the same time and she was struck by how similar the gazes were in their intensity. The sight wiped away her first thought of how handsome he was in the morning light.

  “Good morning!” She made to walk through the open door and felt the tingle of his wards on her skin, just like in the mountains. It didn’t hurt, but the resistance stopped her this time. She paused and then asked, “May I come in? I brought you some breakfast.”

  “Of course. You are always welcome.” He waved her forward and she was suddenly able to come in the rest of the way.

  Placing the tray in the middle of the bed, she raised an eyebrow at it and asked, “Did you sleep well?”

  “As well as I ever do.” The cat stepped delicately from Mathieu’s lap and walked over to investigate the tray of food.

  Jenn lifted the napkin covering the plates. “I don’t know what you like so I just got you a little bit of everything. Here’s a croissant, and a baguette. Some honey, some chocolate spread, a little cheese, some jam. A little fruit. Marcus insisted on making your coffee for you—said he knew just how you liked it, but I can’t imagine anyone drinking it that sweet and light.”

  Mathieu shrugged with one shoulder and picked up the mug. “I can’t imagine anyone choking down what he drinks either.”

  “Philistine.” Jenn picked up a second mug from the tray. “You should drink it black, like this. Black as my heart.” She giggled as she sipped it and rolled her eyes in pleasure at the flavor.