Redemption (19 page)

“You don’t spout water.” Her laugh was different; nervous or shy. It was endearing.

“So Garnier was first?”

“Yes.”

“The rest of your family?”

“They were changed shortly after me.”

“I see … so since you were once someone like me … ”

“Human?”

“I guess, yes. Since you were human, are you still considered one?”

I sighed. “Not really … not after eight centuries. Sure, I was human once. Now, I’m more of a creature than anything else. What I shared with you is almost everything I remember about it. That and a composition I wrote.”

Her lips curled up again in a hint of her normal smile and I found myself making yet another promise I never thought I’d make. “I’ll play it for you one day … ”

“Can you continue your story about how it happened?”

“Yes,” I answered. “The de Rouens were witches, we call them essentialists because they can manipulate life essence, which is the very energy of every living creature … our soul, if you would look at it that way. An essentialist cannot only manipulate this energy, but they have an abundance of it. And every second female generation of de Rouens has one essentialist, and we were made to protect their bloodline … a line that is gone now.”

“Oh.”

I didn’t want to tell her how I had failed. I nudged the conversation in another direction.

“We moved to Canada in the 1700s. When the de Rouens migrated, we came with them.”

“I see … so whenever I see gargoyles on a building, does it mean that they’re like you?”

“No, there are more like us, but not many … and most of them are still in Europe.”

We sat in silence for a while.

“Do you have any more questions?”

She let out a short, nervous laugh and said, “Only about a million.”

“I have all the time in the world.”

“Do you?”

I nodded.

“Wow, I can’t even wrap my head around all of this. I keep on having to remind myself of what I saw. It doesn’t seem real … ”

“I think you are handling it really well.”

“Yeah, that’s because you can’t see the turmoil inside of my head.”

“I probably shouldn’t have told you.”

She tilted her head and looked at me then. “Why did you? It doesn’t strike me as something you’d tell people … I mean, I’m sure I’m not the first person you’ve told or anything … ” she looked at her feet.

I considered the question before answering her. Initially, I thought I was telling her because she asked. But it couldn’t be all there was to it. It seemed that after centuries of keeping to myself, I suddenly craved this exposure. However, that type of response seemed too human. It would be ironic if now, after Marguerite’s death, I inched closer to the person I’d always wanted to be for her.

“You asked.” It was the safe answer.

“You told me because I asked?”

“Well … ” I brought my legs up on the crate and hugged my knees. How could words make me so vulnerable? “I guess I felt a need to have you know me a little more … ”

Then I thought of the other answer, the one that would make sense, the one that didn’t leave me so exposed. “And because you’re tied to this somehow. You’re involved and you can help us.”

“I can help you?”

“We were made to protect the de Rouen witches, but they needed to keep us alive. They transferred essence into us to keep us going. When Marguerite—the last of her line—died, we thought we were stuck in stone forever.”

“Then what happened?”

“You, Aude Vanier. You came along and somehow in your fright while running away from the Stone Monster’s men, you threw around essence and woke us up.”

“How is that possible?”

“That’s what we’ve been trying to figure out. That and what the Stone Monster wants with you.”

“What Stone Monster?”

“The creature from the alley. I’ve met him before, and he nearly killed me, but he’s weak now.”

“What are you … wait. Do you mean Terra Cotta man? So you are curious about my power because you are getting weak. You’ve said he’s weak, so couldn’t it stand to reason that he wants me for that too?” She pushed her hair away from her forehead. “And did I just throw around the term
my power
like I’m completely comfortable with all of this?”

“Yes, you did. And yes, about the Terra Cotta man—that’s a very appropriate name, by the way, as he is made of terra cotta—this is the conclusion I’m coming to as well.”

I realized that sitting in this dusty warehouse, brainstorming with Aude with no reservations or no secrets between us, I was actually happy. She, however, seemed to be struggling with all of the information.

She placed her head in her hands. “But I don’t have that sort of power.”

She’d had enough for the day. I stood up, and reached out my hand to her. “Let me help you down and drive you home. We can talk about this later.”

She hesitated, then her hand joined mine, and the touch sent a thrill through me. Her acceptance left me with a lighter feeling than I could have ever expected.

29

Aude

I can’t believe that tonight is it. I tousle my hair, put some final touches to my make-up, and give myself a last glance in the mirror. I look good. I especially love the tight, black, strapless, corsetlike top Lucy lent me for the occasion.

Mom and I take a cab to The Factory. She seems as excited about this as I am. I smile at her appearance. Her hair is tied back and she’s wearing a tight black Lucid Pill T-shirt I made for her along with a pair of jeans. Dressed the way she is, she looks like she is half her fifty years.

She rubs my knee in a supportive gesture and I turn to give her a tight-lipped smile. The cab speeds down the streets of Montreal. The lights of the street blur in my vision.

The Factory is pretty much what you expect it to be when you hear its name. An old Montreal manufacturing building abandoned for decades and then turned into a concert hall by some ingenious investors.

We show up several hours before the concert and I’m surprised at the line that has already formed. I know people aren’t queuing to see me, but it’s still incredible.

We enter through the backstage entrance. A security guard grins at me in a manner that gives me the creeps, but I don’t spare him a second glance. We’re ushered into a room where Lucy and Patrick are already sitting back with a beer.

I give them a sharp look.

“First and last beer!” Lucy declares in defense to my unspoken accusation.

“I don’t want to blow this,” I tell her.

Mom excuses herself and takes off. Acting as unofficial band manager, she wants to have a few words with the event manager.

“Where’s Guillaume?” Lucy asks.

“He’ll probably be in the audience.”

“Oh, I would have thought that you’d have brought him backstage.”

I shrug, but my stomach knots up. I hadn’t even thought of inviting him backstage, and now he’ll think things are weird between us. I don’t know why it is, but I’m resolved on appearing strong and cool about the whole gargoyle thing and I hate that he’ll think something’s up.

Lucy studies my expression. “Oh no. Are you two having problems?”

“We’re not a couple. Guillaume is a friend. Nothing more.” And the problems we’re having aren’t really something I can share with her.

“Well, that’s a shame.”

I roll my eyes.

“What? You could do worse.”

Trick brings our attention to the set list and we go over everything, making sure we’re as prepared as possible. I’m excited to sing “Stone Eyes
,”
though its meaning to me is now so different than when I first wrote it.

A knock at the door interrupts us. Maybe Mom got locked out. And since no one else is in any hurry to open the door, I reluctantly stand up to do it. I come face to face with Fetid Crimson’s Ramtin. I recognize him immediately from his chin-length black hair and murky green eyes. He’s wearing a black dress shirt; unbuttoned to about midchest, highlighting an interesting necklace. His pants are tight, and leather.

I’m not easily star-struck, but standing at eye level with this guy with just a foot of space between us, I’m overwhelmed.

His grin is cocky and I feel his eyes slide up my body. A shiver crawls up my spine. Unsure as to whether I’m disgusted or flattered, I stand stock-still and wait for him to address me.

“I’ve heard much about you, but no one told me how hot you were.” His accent is deep and rich, and thanks to that crazy-fan guitar-student chick, I know it’s Persian.

“Thank you,” I stammer, much like an idiot.

His grin widens but I wouldn’t say he appears to be pleased. There’s something strange about his expression that borders on the look of a vulture closing in on its prey.

I rack my brain for information I may have read about him, but curse myself for not having paid closer attention to star gossip mags. He places his hand on my elbow and leads me out the door. Before exiting, I turn back to Lucy and Trick who are watching with their mouths open. I shrug at them with my eyebrows raised in a
I-don’t-know-what-this-is-all-about-either
gesture.

We walk down the hall, his hand still holding my elbow. When we find ourselves in front of his private dressing room, I stop.

“Come on, pretty little thing. I just want to talk. There’s something … about you. Something interesting.” His accent and word choice almost makes him sound comical, but I don’t feel like laughing.

Something about him just feels off. I stiffen and start thinking of ways to get away from him without insulting him. He’s gorgeous and famous and there should be no reason for me to resist going into his room with him, but I can’t do it. I always try to avoid complications and a complication is
exactly
what he is.

My phone rings. I give Ramtin an apologetic look and answer it.

“Aude?” Guilaume sounds worried.

“Where are you? Aren’t you at the show yet?” I ask him.

“I got held up. I’ve been doing some research on that Ramtin guy. Have you met him yet?”

I look at Ramtin, who is now leaning against the hallway wall with a smirk on his face.

“Uh huh,” I say.

“Be careful. Our research turned absolutely nothing, at first. Officially, this guy is as clean as a whistle. But then I got Garnier involved.” Guillaume pauses. “Garnier knows him. He met him over three hundred years ago.”

“Three hundred … ?” I lower my voice. “You mean he’s … ”

“Yes, a gargoyle. A very old one. Garnier doesn’t like him one bit, but we don’t know if he’s actually dangerous. This may still all be a coincidence, Aude. Running into one of us is not
that
uncommon … especially amongst extremely successful people. We have a lot of time to perfect our talents. But I’d feel more comfortable if I was there with you.”

“Yes, of course.” I’d feel more comfortable too. “I’ll add you to the guest list.”

After I hang up, Ramtin steps closer to me.

“That sounded like an interesting conversation.”

I nod. “I have to go, though. I need to add my friend to the guest list.”

“I won’t take too much of your time. Maybe we could just chat about music and things.”

“I’d rather not be alone in there with you,” I say.

His eyebrow raises and a humorless laugh escapes his lips.

“You’d
rather
not? What would you
rather
do then? I could go get some friends … ”

Before having met him, I would have wished to sit with him and pick his brain music-wise, maybe even jam with him, but not now. Even without Guillaume’s warning, he creeps me out.

He grabs my chin in his hand and looks into my eyes. I assert myself then. I’m not a fan-girl to be manipulated by his looks and charm. I know more about him than most of them do. And anyways, I’m an artist and I’m worth more than how he’s treating me. I turn my head away from him, escaping his hold, and take several steps backward.

“I don’t know for sure what you have in mind, but I’m
not
in. I deserve more respect than what you’re showing me and if this means I’m screwing up my chance at making it big … ” I stop there, afraid to continue. I can’t really mean this, do I? I think of the alternative; of being sad and bitter like Mom.

“Even if it means I’m screwing up my chances.” I rephrase with more resolve than I ever knew I had.

His mouth breaks into a smile again, though this time it’s genuine. “I don’t meet many girls like you, Lucid Pill.”

“The name is Odd.”

“Listen, Odd, I’m sorry,” he says, “I’m used to a certain type of girl.”

“I’m not her.”

“Definitely not,” he agrees.

He extends his hand. “Let’s try this again. Hi, I’m Ramtin. Nice to meet you.”