Mathieu

by Irene Ferris

  “There is no such thing as fairness in this world.” Mathieu turned back to the field. “I can assure you that rain is simply rain. There are no angels. And even if there were angels to weep, man would never stop doing evil. It’s too much in his nature to do otherwise.”

  “I don’t know which one is more disturbing: your lack of faith in angels or in mankind.” Jenn flopped into a rocking chair. “After all, most people would say Demons don’t exist, but you of all people know the truth of that one. Why not angels? Why not the inherent goodness of mankind?”

  Mathieu shifted from one foot to the other and then turned to lean against the other chair. He looked at Jenn with impossibly old eyes. “I have seen death dealt in every way possible. I have seen massacres of the helpless, women, children, and the aged. I have seen babes ripped from their mother’s wombs. I have seen entire cities wiped out in a night, and entire peoples that simply ceased to be in even less. Entire civilizations have fallen before my eyes, every survivor hacked to death to the sound of their pleas for mercy. I have seen more than I can ever tell you and more than I ever want to remember. All done by mankind.”

  He paused and then continued. “I never once saw an angel. I never once saw anything come down from on high or from on low or from anywhere to help any of those people. And I prayed. I prayed so hard and so loud and so long that I thought my lungs would burst and my throat would bleed. I begged God to send something—anything at all—down to help them or to help me help them or help me. Or to just make it all stop.”

  Jenn was still, barely breathing, eyes wide. “I don’t …”

  “You can draw your own conclusions. I did long ago.” Mathieu straightened and turned back to the rain. “But there are no angels. Maybe one time long ago there were, but there are none now. At times I am almost quite sure that there is no God either.”

  “If you think that, then why the little church on the mountain? Why all of the work and care and devotion to something that glorifies a God you don’t think exists?”

  Mathieu crossed his arms and held himself. “Because I want to believe. Even if I’m not worthy of being in His sight because of what I am now, I still want to believe in Him. If there were no God, then all the things that I’ve seen and all the things that bastard did to me were for no reason. So maybe there is no God, but maybe there is and maybe, just maybe, He had some reason for all of this to happen that means something in some way that I can’t understand. Maybe He’ll show me that reason one day, and maybe show me the way to be worthy of His sight again.” He shrugged and looked back over at Jenn. “It’s a lot of maybes, I know. But maybes are all I have right now.”

  “Isn’t life a lot of maybes?” Jenn leaned back in the chair and closed her eyes. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to… I just wanted to talk about the rain. You know, small talk.”

  “You were never one for small talk. Things always got complicated when you tried.” Mathieu’s lips curved in a small, sad smile.

  Jenn blinked. “I wish you wouldn’t do that. It’s a little disconcerting.” She leaned forward and ran a hand through her hair. “I know you think you know me, but you really don’t.”

  Mathieu shook his head. “I apologize. I forget sometimes that my memories are not yours.” He turned back to the rain.

  “Great. Now I’ve offended you.” Jenn sighed and then shook her head. “Listen, I know it’s awkward. I’m sorry. I just don’t like thinking about how you seem to know things about me that I don’t even know.”

  “There is nothing to be sorry about. It simply is what it is.” Mathieu walked over and sat in the other chair. “Neither of us is who we were before. Sometimes I forget that. That is no fault of yours.” He folded his hands in his lap and looked down at them, lost in thought.

  Jenn swallowed down a lump in her throat. “Did you love me?”

  Mathieu looked up from his hands and into her eyes, a small smile playing on his lips. “Passionately. With every fiber of my body. To the very depths of my soul from the first moment I saw you.”

  “Do you still love me?”

  His smile slowly faded as he studied her face. The sound of the rain changed, the hissing turning to a popping, crackling sound, the sound of tires on wet gravel. He tilted his head towards the noise. “Someone’s here.” He made to stand up.

  “Wait.” She reached out, her hands stopping a few inches from his arm as she remembered not to touch him. “Aren’t you going to answer my question?”

  He paused for a long moment before reaching over to stroke the back of her hand. His fingertips barely ghosted over her skin and she could feel warmth in his touch, but no pain. “No, I’m not. I told you that I would never hurt you.” He stood and walked to the door into the house, speaking without looking back. “I am not what I was, Jenn. None of us are.”

  She watched his back as he stepped through the door and closed it quietly behind him. After staring at her hand for a long moment, she stood and followed him inside.

  Chapter Thirty - Two

  Hugh Devalle dashed for the front door, avoiding puddles and the muddy patches of grass between the driveway and the porch.

  Taking the steps two at a time, he opened the front door and ducked in out of the rain.

  He turned automatically to hang his coat on the tree next to the sidelight and then turned back to find Marcus standing in front of him. “Marcus. Good. I need to know…” He was unable to finish his sentence because a fist—Marcus’s to be exact—came up and punched him squarely in the face. He fell backwards against the door frame and slid to the floor.

  “You son of a bitch. You did this on purpose, you stinking son of a bitch.” Marcus ranted as he stood over the silver haired man, fists balled.

  “God, they said you were temperamental, but this is ridiculous.” Hugh touched his jaw gingerly and made to stand up.

  Marcus reached down and grabbed the man by his shirt, hauling to his feet and dragging him into the library. “You have no clue how temperamental I can be. You’d be shocked at the depths of my fucking temperamentality when I’m really good and pissed off.” He threw Hugh down into a wingback chair and stood over him.

  Carol and Dwayne sat calmly on an antique camelback sofa, leafing through an old book. Dwayne looked up and nodded at Marcus before returning his attention to the script that Carol was reading aloud in a low voice.

  Eddie drifted into the room and stood behind Marcus, arms folded. He raised an eyebrow at Hugh but remained silent. Susan silently glided over to stand behind the sofa, one hand on Dwayne’s shoulder.

  “Now you’re going to tell us exactly what we’re dealing with and why you did this to your own daughter.” Marcus swung around to point at Mathieu who had just walked into the room. “And you. You’re not going to have any kind of reaction or anything to what’s going on in here. Not a peep.”

  Mathieu stopped short and looked at Hugh who was now leaning back in the chair, rubbing his chin and glaring up at Marcus. “All right. Are you going to hit him again?”

  “Probably. Do you have a problem with that?” Marcus put his hands on his hips.

  “Him? Not particularly.” Mathieu half shrugged. “Just aim for the nose next time. I don’t want to feel your pain when you break your hand on his jaw.”

  Marcus’ lips lifted grimly on one side for a moment and then fell. “Duly noted. Get over there.” He gestured in the general direction of the sofa and then turned his attention back to the older man in the chair. “Why did you do it?”

  “Marcus, I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.” Hugh straightened up in the chair. “Jenn, tell your husband that I don’t know what he’s talking about.”

  Jenn walked in from where she’d been standing in the doorway. “I can’t do that, Mr. Devalle. I don’t believe you.” She walked forward and looked closely at him with an air of disgust. “You lied to me.”

  “You don’t think I’d do something to hurt my own daughter, do you?” Hugh’s eyes grew wide at the
thought, and then he shook his head. “I’d never do anything like that. Amanda is the sun and moon to me.”

  “Bullshit,” Eddie said quietly.

  “As my colleague has put so succinctly, we don’t believe you.” Marcus placed his hands on the arms of the chair and leaned forward. “You’re in the inner circle. No one passes gas in the Foundation without you knowing. You’re up to your eyeballs in whatever happened here.”

  Mathieu perched on a windowsill and watched the proceedings carefully. Anger was certainly the overwhelming emotion in the room, but there was an undercurrent of sadness as well. He tightened his hold on the darkness inside, forcing it down so that it wouldn’t slip into the room and complicate matters.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Hugh repeated. He tried to stand up but Marcus shoved him back down into the chair.

  “You’re not going anywhere until you tell us the truth.” Marcus growled. “We know you didn’t buy this house for your daughter. We know the Foundation owns it and we know what was in it until just a few days ago.”

  Hugh squared his jaw at that news. “Do you now? That’s… unexpected news.”

  “Unexpected?” Carol said from the couch. “For God’s sake, Hugh. You brought the best team you have in on this. Did you not expect us to do the legwork and find out about what you’ve been up to?”

  “I expected you to do what you were told.” Hugh shot back. “Not that that’s ever been one of your strong points, Carol. You’re damned lucky that we let you be involved in anything, much less this. You’re lucky we let you back in the front door.”

  “Fuck you.” Carol said it almost listlessly. “There wasn’t any ‘letting’ involved. You just wanted what was best for the Foundation, not for me. You kept me after everything that happened because you didn’t want to let the knowledge and experience go to waste.”

  “You needed us more than we needed you.” Hugh said awkwardly.

  “Liar. And not germane to this discussion anyway.” Carol sighed. “Why don’t you tell us the truth now, Hugh? We know what was here and how it got here. What we don’t know is why you put Amanda in here with it. And without knowing that, I’m afraid we might not be able to do anything to help her.”

  “You mean you won’t help her.” Hugh seemed to deflate as he said the words.

  Marcus looked over to Carol, about to speak. Carol made a shushing motion with her hand and continued. “Let’s be honest here, Hugh. You put her here for some reason. Now you want us to pull her out. Without knowing the full story, I will have to advise my circle leader and his superiors that this project is too dangerous for us to proceed. I’m sure someone in your position can understand if we consider the loss of six Gifted people an unacceptable risk when compared to the loss, albeit tragic, of your daughter.” She paused and then continued. “I still have connections, Hugh. People still listen to me even if you tell them not to. All I have to do is make a few calls.”

  Mathieu raised an eyebrow, but remained silent.

  “You’re a cast iron bitch, you know that?” Hugh sighed and shook his head.

  “I always have been.” Carol answered quietly as she closed the book in her lap and placed it carefully on the table. “What happened didn’t change that. It just made me reevaluate my circumstances.”

  “I just liked it better when you were on my side, I suppose.” Hugh leaned forward in the chair, the leather squeaking under him as he moved.

  “Most people do, dear.” Carol smiled a sweet smile with absolutely no warmth in it. “Now start talking.” Her voice had a sharp edge to it that made Hugh wince.

  Marcus blinked and then repeated in confused voice, “Yeah. Start talking.” He stepped back and crossed his arms in an attitude of waiting authority.

  Hugh ignored Marcus and answered Carol. “You know that you might not get them to agree with you.”

  “Do you want to test that theory? Eddie, give me your phone.” Carol reached in Eddie’s general direction, her tone commanding and imperious.

  Eddie dug in his pocket for a moment before finding it and passing it over.

  Carol paused, finger hovering over the screen before looking back over at Hugh and smiling sweetly. “Are you sure you want me to make this call?”

  Hugh glared at her before shaking his head and slumping in defeat. “Of course not.” His voice was rough with emotion. “What do you want to know?”

  “Everything.” Carol placed the phone in her lap and assumed a posture of respectful listening. “How about telling us why you moved your daughter here with that thing in the basement?”

  “Gaap?” Hugh said the name and Mathieu shuddered inside. “I really don’t know where to start with that.”

  “Then start at the very beginning. I hear that’s a very good place to start. That’s what Julie Andrews always says, at least.” Eddie smiled grimly as he settled to the floor and crossed his legs to make himself comfortable.

  Carol’s serene expression twitched and then returned to intent attention. “The Sound of Music aside, I’d agree with the sentiment.”

  Hugh glared down at Eddie and then looked back over to Carol. “The very beginning would be that.” He pointed directly at Mathieu without looking away from the woman on the couch. “Have you figured out what that is yet?”

  Mathieu silently raised his eyebrow again and considered that by the end of the night he might strain a facial muscle. He cocked his head in interest as he felt the pressure of all eyes in the room come to bear on him. Except Hugh’s. Those eyes still stared at Carol.

  “That,” said Carol, “is a very delightful and helpful young man.”

  “Hardly.” Hugh snorted. “Hardly young and hardly a man.”

  “You could try not talking about him like he’s not sitting right here. That’s incredibly rude.” Jenn said quietly as she walked over to stand next to Mathieu. She made as if to touch his hand, drawing back as he shifted away from her.

  Hugh shrugged. “I don’t particularly care if I’m rude to something like that. It’s not like it’s a human, after all. Not any more, at least.”

  Carol paused, seeming to choose her words carefully. “Then what is he?”

  Hugh sucked on his teeth for a long moment before choosing an answer. “Power. Power in a coherent form, stretched over a framework that resembles a human host from long ago.”

  “Power.” Carol echoed the word and glanced over at Mathieu with clinical eyes. She studied him for a long moment and her face softened. “Not just power, Hugh. Power doesn’t have emotions. Power doesn’t feel terror. Power doesn’t weep. This one…” She half shrugged as her words drifted off.

  “Oh, I’m sure there are residual memories and ingrained behaviors attached to that framework. But first and foremost, power.”

  “Even if I believed what you were saying, which I don’t,” Marcus said, “what does that have to do with your daughter?”

  “Everything.” Hugh leaned forward, warming to his subject. “All that power, all that knowledge and we can’t touch it. It won’t let us near enough to bind it, use it or study it.”

  “Not like I blame him or anything when you put it that way,” Eddie said quietly.

  “You’re forgetting what we’re here to do,” Hugh snapped back. “We’re in a war against occult creatures and frankly we need better weapons.”

  “Better… weapons?” Susan repeated after him. “I’m not getting the connection here.”

  “Three of you were there when that thing,” Hugh jerked his head in Mathieu’s direction, “was created. You know what happened.”

  Mathieu listened with a morbid fascination, his stomach clenching and sinking simultaneously as the slightest suspicion of what Hugh might have done began to whisper in his ear.

  Jenn spoke quietly, saying what she knew for those who hadn’t been present. “We trapped and fought something—a Demon—that was incredibly powerful. Too powerful, honestly. It was going to destroy us all with its Familiar…” She look
ed up at Mathieu and continued, “its slave… somehow managed to destroy it and save us.”

  “And in the process freed itself from the Demon’s bindings.” Hugh continued for her. “But what you’re forgetting is what happened to the Demon when that happened.”

  “It was destroyed. Completely and utterly. A team went over that place inch by inch for weeks afterwards to be sure.” Marcus said flatly.

  “The creature itself was, yes. The personality, the physical form it affected, the molecules it pulled together to maintain that form, all gone. Think about the rest of it, though. The power, the knowledge of how to use that power, where did that go?” Hugh didn’t wait for an answer but merely pointed directly at Mathieu. “It’s a natural law. Energy can be neither created nor destroyed. It can only be converted or changed to another form.”

  “Or stored.” Jenn said quietly as she looked from Mathieu to Marcus. “Hidden away where it could do no harm.”

  “Where it could be wasted, you mean. Piddled away. Dissipated into the ether because it isn’t being used properly.” Hugh grumbled. “Which is why we needed to make another one of those.” Again he pointed at Mathieu. “One we could control. One that would have our best interests at heart instead of its own agenda.”

  There was a dead silence in the room. Mathieu closed his eyes and hid his face in his hands.

  “Your own daughter?” Carol’s voice was weak. “Your own child, Hugh?”

  Mathieu straightened and spoke, his voice very soft. “They do not realize the full extent of what you’ve done. You don’t either. I am the only one here who knows exactly what you’ve done to your own child, what you’ve cursed her to, what you’ve forced her to endure.”

  “It’s a small sacrifice.” Hugh still didn’t look directly at Mathieu, instead speaking to the room at large. “Once that thing is dead, she’ll be freed and back with us as something amazing.”

  Mathieu walked to stand in front of Hugh, forcing the man to look at him. “As a thing to be used? As a framework of power and memories? As something you won’t even dignify with an identity or a gender?”