by P. M. Briede
With a hand cupped around his cheek I memorized the contours of his face. I don’t know why I did it but I felt it was necessary. Everyone around me was rightfully terrified in the aftermath of the week of Labor Day, yet they all still maintained some confidence that fate was hinting we’d all be okay. I didn’t feel the same. I truly felt we were living on borrowed time and our days were numbered. It’s why it was so painful that I wasn’t able to spend the time with all of them, especially Wesley, the way I wanted. “You’re a sight for sore eyes.”
“You okay? You seem dispirited.” Olivier’s voice dripped with worry. I forcibly pulled myself out of my doomsday reflections. Numbered days or not, I wasn’t going to waste them in misery. Plus we needed to get a move on so we weren’t late to work. Lying to him, I said I was still a little tired from the long weekend and got out of bed
That evening Olivier and I sat on the sofa watching the first Presidential debate. Having never watched one in its entirety before, I didn’t really know what to expect. Each debate focused on different topics. Given the recent news events tonight’s debate was mostly focused on the economy, gun control legislation, and education. Alexander’s and his opponent’s views on growing our economy, while maintaining, its current stability, weren’t that divergent, so there was very little actual debate. Since neither were the incumbent President or member of Congress, both were governors of economically successful states, there were no current economic policies to defend or discredit.
When they moved onto education things got a little tenser. Knowing how passionate Alexander is about the need to improve education in general, I was immensely curious to hear him handle the questions over national concerns and counter points of his opponent. It started out mundane enough with both sides acknowledging that America was no longer a leader in education among industrialized nations.
Not surprisingly, Alexander excelled in this area. Much like me, he thought the work needed to start in the primary education systems. “Teacher pay needs to be re-evaluated,” his voice sounded from the television. “Part of our problem is that we aren’t filling the bucket with qualified candidates.” Then he brought up Armstrong, holding us up as a model for what a school that attracts and pays for talent can accomplish with their students. While I knew Alexander was knowledgeable of our accomplishments on his own since Regina sat on the board, this had Wesley’s fingerprints all over it. Celinda had to be seething! “The right people will do this job as long as they can make a decent living at it. This is a private school, but the teachers aren’t driving Ferrari’s or living in exclusive neighborhoods. They make more than public school teachers but their income is within the median income for degreed professionals from other industries in Louisiana.” Alexander continued on in this vein for a few more minutes.
Trouble started brewing during the rebuttal. “Armstrong is a great school. I’ve seen the figures, both financial and academic,” Alexander’s opponent started. “But they are also a new school, so touting them as a flagship seems premature. What are they going to be when the shine wears off?” He paused to take a breath and sip his water. “But you brought up their salaries, and while you didn’t mention any figures, you stated that they basically don’t drive fancy cars or live in exclusive neighborhoods. However, there are a number of members of the faculty who live in the Garden District.” Um, no, to my knowledge there were only two.
Alexander’s opponent kept talking but I wondered how he could possibly know all of this? He had no numbers or real plans to improve education throughout the nation but he knew Olivier and I lived in the Garden District. It didn’t make sense. I turned to look at Olivier while the television continued to stream the opponent’s nonsense. “Is it possible there is an exile in that campaign also? How else would he have that much detailed information about the school?”
Blinking rapidly, Olivier tore his eyes from the television screen. “How have we never considered that before? It would explain some of their rhetoric. Breaux almost came to the same conclusion last week when he mentioned to me that the lobby groups he was finally starting to successfully steer Alexander away from were suddenly being picked up by his opponent. Most politicians would drop anything that gave the other bad press. But these two just pick up the ball wherever the other left it. It always struck me as odd before. Now it makes sense. Breaux and Tristan aren’t reachable while the debate is going on, are they?” Olivier finally stopped talking but I didn’t answer. “Charlotte?”
I’d quit listening after he stated that he’d spoken to Wesley last week. They didn’t talk directly to each other. It was always through either Tristan or me. Well, I guess Labor Day was the one exception. Olivier saying my name got the gears working in my mind so my brain again started sending signals to my mouth. “Why were you talking to Wesley?” I quietly probed in confusion.
“What?” Olivier feinted but I didn’t fall for it. Olivier had a way of pretending he was slow on the uptake at times. He never was. So I repeated my question with a harsher inflection. “Ah, I had an idea that might get the angels to make a move against Celinda. They are reluctant to do anything just based on my word. I am an exile after all. They want me to give them solid proof. Abigail is too dangerous a prospect. So that only leaves…”
“Wesley,” I whispered with a shudder. Bringing him forth as evidence also put him at risk, put all of us at risk, of being burned right beside Celinda. And it wouldn’t work. Methos was already aware Wesley’s mind was being altered. If that proof hadn’t been enough for him to take Celinda then, it wouldn’t be now. But I couldn’t tell Olivier that because it would lead to my meeting with Methos. So all that was left… “What’s the worst possible outcome, Olivier?”
He frowned. “You already know the answer to that, Charlotte.” The angels would confiscate them; possibly even eliminate them, before coming after the rest of us. Maybe Wesley hadn’t agreed. I opened my mouth to ask but Olivier beat me with the answer. “You already know that answer too.” Wesley had. Damn it!
Fighting back the tears and swallowing the bile that had risen in my throat, I demanded, “WHEN?!” Somehow though, I was pretty sure I also already knew this answer as well. Olivier stood and crouched down so we were eye-level with his hands out defensively, palms facing me. When he said my name it was enough to confirm my suspicions. It was going to happen when they returned to town for Paige’s wedding. “How dare you!” I railed at Olivier. “How dare the both of you! How can do that to them?! Does Tristan know, because I know for a fact Paige doesn’t? This entire time we’ve been working to not only save the God damn world but also our own skin. Yet in one move you two are prepared to end us all!”
“Charlotte, Breaux and I went through everything. Tristan and Paige should be safe as his memories seem to be clean of them having any knowledge of Celinda or myself. Even the few times they were present his mind was so locked in on either you or I that it vaguely registered them even as a blur. There was never a plan for it to be around the time of their wedding but we agreed that the first chance he got to return we’d do it then. It just so happens the wedding is the first chance.”
Initially sighing and taking a deep breath in relief my eyes bugged out when I realized he’d said Paige and Tristan should be safe, that was all. “So the three of us…” I trailed off.
“May have to sleep in the bed we made,” Olivier finished. I didn’t make this God forsaken bed! I’m fairly confident it was made for me. Hell, Olivier was convinced if he burned, no matter where I was, I would as well. But given the alternative that Paige and Tristan would not get the life they earned together, what other choice did I have? It was nearly a foregone conclusion that I’d probably end up laying down my life with the two men I loved most in this world in order to not only save those I considered family but every other soul walking upon it.
“Who are you meeting?” I could only hope it was Methos.
“The same angel I’ve been working with,” Olivier answered. Hopefully that was Me
thos. While he didn’t seem to completely believe we were trying to stop the world from ending, he was at least willing to give us a chance to prove it. His lack of faith in our actions, the way he’d blamed me for the war, hadn’t made him my favorite person. However, of all the angelic examples I’d come across I felt that he’d be the fairest judge.
Our conversation was interrupted by the two candidate’s on the screen verbally assaulting the other. I’d lost track of what they were talking about but the moderator finally broke in and cut to commercial. When it came back everyone seemed back in control of their emotions.
When the debate ended I went upstairs. Olivier said he wasn’t ready yet as he had a few things he needed to look into due to my recent insight. I gave Wesley a half hour before calling. He didn’t answer so I sat there another half hour before calling again. He didn’t answer then either. With escalating panic, as the seconds ticked by, I started calling every ten minutes. On the third of those attempts he answered. “I’m sorry, but I just now got away.”
I couldn’t readily respond due to my labored breathing and pounding heart. I was so tired of going from the most glorious of highs to the deadliest of lows on a mad cap pendulum that never stopped swinging. “Do not ever do that to me again, Mr. Breaux! Under normal circumstances I would understand. However, since I just witnessed the most professional petty outburst on television and have been informed of your suicide pact with Olivier, next time I’d appreciate at least a text back saying you’re just busy AND NOT DEAD!” I erupted at the tail end. It wasn’t fair to Wesley, he had no way of knowing Olivier had let slip their deadly secret.
Struck by the force of my emotions, Wesley immediately began what only he could do: concede while vindicating himself with a solid defense. “You’re absolutely right. I should have sent you a text but there was no way I could. After the debate Celinda was all over us. If I’d pulled out my burner to give you the peace of mind you so richly deserved it probably would have cost me my cover, if not my life. As it was, every time my phone when off Tristan pulled his out like he was constantly getting texts from Paige. We think Celinda bought it but you can never know with her. I should have been the one to tell you but I just couldn’t. I knew you’d worry. Cheval and I agree the death sentence is a possibility but not necessarily a guarantee. And it may just be us that pays that price…”
“Are you kidding me?!” I broke in. “You think it’s just death I’m afraid of? Honestly, Wesley, at this point I’d welcome it. Losing either of you would ruin me. Losing you both? I can’t even begin to imagine the impact that would have!” The notion put me in such a state of panic that the attack overtook me before I was aware of its approach and I began hyperventilating so terribly my extremities numbed.
“Charlotte, you need to calm down!” Wesley’s voice cried out from the phone. “Breathe with me. It may not come to that. Don’t focus on the worst possible outcome right now. I know that’s hard for you but you’ve got to remember it is only one possibility.” His voice was frantic as he tried to calm me down.
As I fell to the floor I vaguely heard footsteps crashing up the stairs. “Charlotte!” Olivier’s voice bellowed. He snatched my phone out of my hand and put it on speaker. “I’m assuming she’s told you she knows and that’s what freaked her out.” At Wesley’s distant confirmation and with the light fading away from around Olivier’s face, I found myself on my back. His lips were on mine but this kiss was to save my life not to ignite my passion. Three deep breaths later I began coughing. Olivier knelt down at my back, sitting me up until I leaned against him. I was instructed to take a deep breath until my breathing normalized.
“She’s alright, Breaux,” Olivier said. “I’ve got her breathing steadily again. Thanks for the text. Normally I’d have heard her but I was on the phone at the time.” Once again they’d worked together to not only look out for me. When they worked in tandem I truly believed they’d be able to accomplish almost anything. Could they maybe even accomplish the impossible?
“Thank you, Cheval. I continuously seem to find myself indebted to you.” The disappointment Wesley found in the truth of what he’d said was clear to me even in my woozy state. “Is Charlotte so bad that I can’t have just a moment alone with her again?”
Olivier eyed me cautiously and made me swear I wouldn’t move from the bed if he gave me some privacy with Wesley. Once I was moved from the floor to the bed, reclining against the pillows, Olivier left. When the door shut, I informed Wesley we were alone. “You scared me. Don’t you ever do that to me again, Mrs…” the lump in his throat kept him from finishing. “You really are going to be the death of me.” In the past when he’d say this it was a playful, idle threat. This time the absolute fear oozed through. Right then I knew losing me to death right now would either kill Wesley or drive him insane, same as it would for me. We truly were bound to the other. Add in the bond I shared with Olivier and well none of us would outlive the others very long. With a forlorn, “Take care of yourself,” we hung up.
Chapter 11
The debates were now over and Alexander had the Presidency in all but name. Every poll had him ahead by a large margin. He was now taking meetings with the incumbent President concerning the political unrest the world was facing. Wars were being driven by insurgent groups. There were revolutions in almost every third world country ruled by a zealot. With this much chaos and destruction I couldn’t help but wonder what was holding the exiles back from striking?
The wedding was this weekend at my parents’ plantation and Olivier and I were packing, since we were staying there. That meant Olivier’s and Wesley’s dangerous meeting with the angels was also this weekend. “When are you meeting with the angels?” Though I’d tried to sound nonchalant the terror was plainly evident.
He paused just long enough to gauge my emotional temperature. “Sunday morning before they all have to return to the campaign. Before you get yourself all worked up, it’s happening in a public location. Breaux and I won’t disappear from you on this venture. That isn’t to say they can’t come get us whenever they want, but he’ll make his flight and I’ll come home to you.” He’d made no move to soothe me but his confidence coupled with his tone of voice did.
“Why would they care whether it causes a scene?” I asked. “Can’t they just erase the whole thing from the mind of every witness there? You made it sound like the minute they see Wesley’s memories, you two are toast.” I brought my eyes to Olivier’s and ceased packing my bag. This topic deserved our complete and utter attention. I needed some reassurance they’d both be safe, that or I was going to insist on going with them. If I was going to die, I’d prefer to be bookended by them than alone.
Olivier sat on the edge of the bed and took my hands in his. “No, Charlotte, I never said that,” he argued. “You asked me what the worst possible outcome could be and that is it. But I honestly don’t believe it will come to that. I know what you are thinking and the answer is no. You are not going. The best weapon anyone has over Breaux or me is you. Though it puts a small crimp in their miniscule honeymoon, you’re meeting Paige and Tristan for breakfast as planned.”
His hands worriedly worked mine and for the first time since letting their plan slip, I observed the outright fear he had. And it wasn’t for himself. “Wouldn’t you feel better having me with you? That way I’m in no more or less danger than you are.”
“I’m not concerned about us, carissime. My concern is for Breaux. Though I’m confident he’ll board his plane, I have no idea what will happen to him afterward. It’s a huge risk he’s taking. It’s a public meeting. He could be seen with me. He could be seen with them. Then he’s going back to her.” I knew which her Olivier was referring to and it wasn’t Abigail. “I can practically guarantee his life from the angels on Sunday but I can’t look out for him from her.” It pained Olivier to confide all this to me. It wouldn’t keep me from constantly fretting over Wesley’s well-being which already had diminished my appetite and kept me up at n
ight. This new threat was going to increase the anxiety a hundred fold.
The stress of everything was taking a heavy toll on my physique. I’d lost around ten pounds which doesn’t sound like much considering my daily workouts with Olivier should have bulked up my muscle mass. But I didn’t really have weight to lose so this was cause for alarm. My size six wardrobe now hung from what I was sure was a size two frame. I was always tired. The luster was fading from my hair. There were deep bags under my eyes. It looked more like I’d been punched in both of them and Olivier would probably have been called in for questioning if I didn’t use stage makeup now. I swear I felt and looked more like a refugee than a woman.
But Olivier hadn’t lied to me about the inherit danger facing Wesley. He hadn’t even tried to hide it. Granted, he couldn’t because he’d sworn on my life he wouldn’t. But he could have not answered at all. No, now Olivier was trusting me to handle the facts as best as I could. “Thank you,” I said. “Please tell me Wesley isn’t trying to gloss over the perils. That he’s taking appropriate precautions.”
As Olivier cupped a hand around my cheek and wiped away the one tear that had escaped my eyes, he finished outlining their plan. “Once on the plane, Breaux will bring Tristan up to speed on what took place prior. I know for your sake, and Paige’s, Tristan will keep an even closer eye on him. They’ve already taken to sharing a hotel room when Abigail isn’t present on the campaign trail on the pretense they end up sleeping in the same room anyway because they work until they collapse.” It was the best and only comfort Olivier had to offer.
During the hour-long drive from our home to my parents’, I spent the first quarter hour reflecting on everything that had occurred in the last eight weeks. “Olivier, have you learned anything regarding Abigail’s real identity? Have you learned anything about if there is an Abigail Wyatt we need to track down?” My unseeing eyes remained on the hazy green scenery streaking by the window. Not looking at the clock, I didn’t honestly know how long I waited for his answer. The fact it was long enough to notice at all was enough for me to know there was no good news. “Olivier?” I repeated while peeling my eyes away from the nothing I’d been taking in to turn them on him.
