Blue Moon Rising (The Patroness) (25 page)

“Another sample...” one barked.

“...is it...reacting...” asked another one.

I tried to open my eyes which needed a few attempts since it proved such a difficult and exhausting thing to do.

“It’s coming around, Sir.”

It? I finally opened my eyes, and then moaned, squinting against the harsh neon light glaring from above. What the hell had happened? Where the fuck was I? With a growing feeling of urgency I tried to shake of the grogginess and concentrated on my surroundings, only to realize that I was barely dressed in what looked like to be one of those stupid hospital gowns, lying on a cold, metal operating table and held down by metal restraints at my wrists and ankles. Not good, so not good.

There were five humans, all clad in white coats, with me in the room which looked very white and very sterile and so not comforting. One of the humans, a woman, came to flash a small light into my eyes. “Everything’s normal.” She announced. Well, maybe you need a check-up, sweety, I thought, since there was nothing normal whatsoever about this room and this whole situation.

The woman retreated and a man came into my field of vision, a tranquilizer gun in hand. “LePère wants to see you. Now you don’t want any trouble, so move slowly and with your hands were I can see them. Clear?”

I nodded and they freed me off the cuffs so I could sit up, only to have black stars erupting all over my vision. For a moment I just stayed there, sitting on the cold table and still feeling a little dizzy in my head, and hoped the room would stop spinning soon. Then it was time to take stock of the damage. They’d been nice enough to stitch up the wounds beneath my collarbones and the one on my left shoulder where the raven had gotten a nice chunk of me, but they’d also added some new ones.

Cuts of different size and depth ran along my right arm, yet more cuts marked my left one, and judging from the burning sensation going out from those, they’d been inflicted by shapeshifter claws. Trouble was they were too deliberate and parallel to have been the result of a fight. Blue bruises showed at the inside of my elbows. So they’d taken blood. Moving on I discovered two small puncture wounds on both my wrists. Well, well, humans obviously hadn’t been the only ones taking blood from me. What the fuck were those white coats up to?

I swung my legs over the side of the table and stood on shaky legs that were unsure whether to follow my command and apparently needed some time to ponder it. They didn’t get any though, since the armed man moved to my left side and tugged me out of the room. There a familiar looking and grim, black-haired man awaited us. Now I could look at him without the pressure of nearing death and noticed how stunningly beautiful he was; his shoulder-long, jet black hair was streaked with dark green and midnight blue, and magnificent black wings loomed behind his back. However, his gray eyes were bloodshot, the result of my special sleeping powder, and distorted the image. I had to bite my lip to keep myself from cracking up with laughter. He joined us, lightly limping and took shop at my right side. Nicely sandwiched I was led along a white tiled corridor, and then to the left into a dimly lit room. It looked identical to the one I woke up in except for the operating table, which had been transformed into an altar, complete with white and red candles and a big wooden cross as its centerpiece. And my sword was lying at its feet.

The door closed behind me, leaving the human as a guard outside and the raven with me. How nice.

The black clad and hooded figure from the park stood in front of the altar, its back to me. LePère I supposed. “My apologies for the tranquilizer you’ve been given but he wants to talk to you, so I had to stop you. Besides, I couldn’t just stand there and do nothing while you were about to kill yourself, could I?”

Kill myself? Oh, for crying out loud, in the old days it was called courage and nowadays it was suicide. Not my fault there’s such a fine line between both. “You want to hear my point of view? We put up a good fight and were about to win, though outnumbered. That’s why you had to tranquilize us.”

He chuckled. “We only took you.”

Shit, where were the guys? I hoped they were alive.

LePère turned around then, and fine, pale hands went for the hood to finally reveal what lay hidden underneath.

I gasped, “You? But why?”

“That’s a rather long story,” answered the friendly and sympathetic Father I’d asked about Josianne’s disappearance in the church Saint-Paul-Saint-Louis.

“I have time,” I replied after the first shock had ebbed.

“Not as much as you might think, child.” Oh. Interesting, and a little disturbing. “But I think there might be enough to answer at least a few of your questions.” He motioned towards two white swivel chairs standing near the wall, and we sat down.

“Where are we?”

“Underground.”

Yeah, I already noticed the obvious, thank you very much. So this guy took everything by the letter. Given his profession it probably made things easier on him, on his conscience. “Did you or your assistants abduct Josianne Bellemort?”

“Yes.” Oh, so forthcoming. Well, let’s see about that.

“So you lied as I asked you about her?”

Anger lit his eyes and he snarled, “I didn’t lie, I don’t lie. You asked me whether I recognized the woman in the drawing, but I don’t think of her as such, so I didn’t lie.” So this guy had principles and was trying to act on them; however, the way he was bending them, it was a surprise they didn’t snap.

“Then what is she in your point of view?”

The words exploded from him on a sudden burst of anger and hatred. “A thing, not human. Just like the rest of them. After we’d been notified of the existence and intentions of the Council,” he nearly choked on that word, “this so called government of those animals and other abominable creatures that deem themselves equal to humankind I knew I had to do something.” His eyes now wide and round, had lost their former kindness to make room for insanity. “Then God came to me, and told me what to do, how to help him. He even sent his angels.”

Angels? I glanced at the raven over my shoulder. I didn’t think so.

“He wants to talk to you. I arranged everything.” The Father said sharply and stood.

Stunned and curious, I followed him with my eyes as he went back to the altar, took a silver goblet in his hand and brought it to his lips. He drank the content, fell on his knees and began to chant in near silence. Seconds passed, minutes followed, and I noticed when exactly he fell into a meditative trance.

He was still, absolutely motionless. Then with a deep sigh, he slowly turned his head around to look at me. “Ah, the Patroness of Paris. Finally we meet.”

I’d thought it impossible for a god to take over a human body, but obviously I’d been wrong. Or the gates had started to leak rather profusely so shortly before The Turn. I swallowed my surprise. “And you are?”

“Take a guess.” His eyes had changed, showing neither kindness nor insanity, but something close to the latter and a coldness that send a chill down my spine.

“The human whose body you borrowed believes you’re God but I doubt that.”

That had his lips curving. “Why?”

How to choose my words to have as much effect as possible? “Well, the God of Christianity might want to come back but he wouldn’t need a human to draw a bloody pentagram to do so.” His face twitched. Ha. “And though he might recognize the power behind a Celtic altar, he wouldn’t touch it. Gods just don’t like playing with other religion’s stuff like that. So I think you’re a Celt.”

He looked a little...un-mystified. My pleasure.

Smiling evilly, he asked, “Any Celtic god comes to mind who’d be interested in the Patroness of Paris?”

One or two.

Not giving him any kind of satisfaction, I replied, “Not really.”

He dropped his smile, probably since I didn’t react with the fear he’d been expecting. I could practically see the wheels turning in his head as he searched for a new approach. “You know you have your mother’s eyes? What a shame Arthur didn’t like sharing, might have spared him a lot of trouble.”

Not bad. I crossed my arms over my chest, using every ounce of self-control to keep myself from hitting him. “Hello Mordred.”

His laughed. “Hello cousin.” Yuck. “We’ve never met, and yet you recognize me. It warms my heart.”

Please, let it spontaneously combust. “What the fuck do you want?”

“I just want to visit, that’s all.”

“Bullshit. If that were true, you could have just waited until The Turn like everybody else.”

He raised his chin stubbornly. “I don’t care what others do.”

And suddenly I understood. The goddess Morgan le Fay, had always both loved and hated my father for his courage and achievements in battle and in love, and had been trying to hurt him in every possible way for all her life. Mordred was her son, rumoured to be also Arthurs but that was just wishful thinking on Morgan’s part. Instead, one of Arthur’s knights had fallen for her, hook, line and sinker. One day she‘d ordered Mordred to steal Arthur’s enchanted sword and scabbard, instead Mordred killed him in a fit of Freudian jealousy.

I could imagine Morgan didn’t take the news very well. I laughed at him. “Don’t tell me that bitch Morgan banned you?”

His face going red was answer enough.

So she had been pissed off as hell and had probably banned her incapable son into a kind of twilight realm, neither here nor there. I went on, “And since The Turn wouldn’t affect your exile you needed a good bunch of bloody sacrifices for a conjuring ritual to get out of there. And a human to do your bidding.”

He stepped towards me. “Exactly. My timing was perfect. Your Council revealed itself and jackpot there comes Father along, his anger so potent I could easily grab and form it.”

I mulled it over, then, “But how could a simple father know about what has been going on between the Council and the human’s highest governments and institutions? It was kept secret, only for high-ranking persons, which you...I mean he isn’t.”

“Oh Maiwenn, especially you should know what they say about secrets, eventually it all comes out. There’s always someone involved who shouldn’t be trusted. With the right reward or motivation they all start talking.”

I jerked a thumb over my shoulder. “And the so called angels?”

He grimaced. “Unfortunate result of an even more unfortunate affair which is another reason to get out of here. Little piece of advice, safe sex!”

Yuck. “Okay, I get the ritual, the exile. But what’s with the laboratory, where does that fit in?”

He sat down on the chair beside mine and waved a hand in the air. “Oh, that. That was kind of a by-product. After I found Father I stumbled over a crazy scientist, one very interested in otherworldlers biology and I thought it might come in handy. I was thinking long term there.” Aha. He could do that? “Anyway, a group of scientist soon joined us, under my control of course, and they experimented on some creatures we picked of the streets. Imagine if they found weaknesses, the key to eliminate a race?”

Yeah, better not. I had to give it to him, that guy at least had managed for church and science to finally work hand in hand.

“Pauline wasn’t one of those experiments. You didn’t just stumble upon her, you deliberately took her,” I said, and didn’t even try to hide the shitload of steel in my voice.

“Ah, sweet Pauline.” He whispered it dreamily, and had my pulse drumming with fear. “Well, you’re right she wasn’t planned for experiments, but she turned out as one.” Oh, no. “And by the way, I was actually after you. My men had heard whispers and rumors of the Patroness of Paris and when they reported back to me I had to see for myself whether those rumors were true. Even in my exile I had heard those stories that your mother had managed to escape after Arthur’s death; that she became a Patroness. But I have to admit I never believed it, neither did Mother. So I had my men gather information, and they found out you work as a P.I. I had them watch your office, with orders to bring you to me.”

Shit, Pauline had helped out at the office all day...that’s why they took her, it had been a mix-up. Guilt weighed heavy on my chest, making breathing difficult. Fortunately that bastard Mordred didn’t notice any of it, and kept on, “I had to find out whether the progeny of my mother’s most hated enemy was really alive.”

He looked at me. “To my own surprise it is. You see, Maiwenn, I can’t lose and therefore there’s no way you can win. Either I manage to complete the ritual or I tell my mother that not only were the old rumors true but that I know who and where you are. And I’ll be freed of this prison, then let’s be honest, with that bit of information, what wouldn’t she do for me? Either way, I’ll be free. And you will be up for hunt.”

He brought his hand up and slowly stroked my cheek with his fingers. I stayed very still, reaching for every ounce of self-control within me. Suddenly he held my face in a tight grip and leaning forward he whispered into my ear, his hot breath like acid on my skin, “A trophy, hers or mine? I have yet to decide. Although, imagine all the things I could do to you. You have the eyes of your mother. That bitch. Because of her I have spent fifteen centuries in exile. Oh, the things I want to do to you.”

He smiled evilly down at me, and there was no crushing guilt left in me but nauseating disgust and blazing fury instead. I spat in his face. “You damn motherfucking pervert!”