Retribution (Book 3 of The Dominion Series) (13 page)

He doesn't respond so if my barb hit its target, I can't tell.

"Julien doesn't see what I see."

"What do you mean? See what?"

He shakes his head quickly, and I can see the internal struggle written on his face, his jaw tensing, his brow furrowed. Finally, he glances up at me, his eyes pained.

"Even telling you this much changes everything and I have to try to see my way through all over again. I wish I could tell you, Eve. You don't know how much. I just
can't
."

"Why? What do you mean, see your way through all over again?"

He bites his bottom lip as if to stop himself from speaking. He's completely unnerved by this conversation. What is he hiding? Why does he feel so afraid to tell me the truth?

He leans forward, his eyes downcast, and whispers as if he's afraid to say the words out loud.

"Every word, every act, every decision," he says, his voice shaking, "changes
everything
. I can see all ends and I'm trying so hard to find the one that protects you but even just saying that much changes it all once more. Soren and I – we're playing a game of chess, both of us assessing each other's moves. We can both see every possible outcome, every possible future." He says nothing for a moment as if overcome, struggling with his emotions, then he looks at me, his gaze moving over my face. "I wish you could just submit, Eve. Just
submit
. It would be so much easier."

"I can't until you tell me why I have to."

He closes his eyes, raising his hands as if in surrender. "That is my dilemma. I must not tell you, I must not force you because if I do, it will lead to the end I fear the most. I must keep you in the dark and let you choose."

"You're not making any sense."

He shrugs, his eyes dreamy as if he's seeing something in the distance or in his mind's eye.

"It all keeps changing, shifting, the ground moving under my feet with each word and each action. I try to do the right thing, keep on the right course, but I am unable to control everything. I fail to control you." Then he glances back at my face. "I have to be so careful…"

"You sound insane." He does. What he's saying makes no sense. "Tell me, Michel! Tell me what's going on."

He shakes his head as if helpless.

I put my napkin over my plate and stand. If he's going to keep up this mystery man act, I can't go with him. Julien promised to tell me the truth, always. Why can't Michel?

"I'm going to my class. I guess I'll see you later at the final bout."

He nods without looking at me as if he's already off somewhere else, trying to see his way through it – whatever
it
is.

After another hour in class, we go to our sparring practice and Michel is there, waiting for me, short Wakizashi swords in hand. This time when we fight, he keeps just ahead of me, pushing me, challenging me, forcing me to always be on the defensive. And then he hurts me, by accident I'm certain, but he hurts me all the same. He slices my arm and the blood pours out of the deep cut, so much so that it scares me.

I crumple to the ground and try to stem the flow of blood. He grabs my arm and applies pressure to the wound, his brow furrowed.

"I'm so sorry," he says, holding the edges of the wound together with his fingers. Slowly, the edges knit together and the flow changes from a gush to a tiny ooze but I've already lost a lot of blood.

He carries me to my bedroom for I'm weak from blood loss.

"Don't let me die," I say, as darkness closes in on me.

"You won't," he says, biting his own wrist, holding it up to my mouth. "Drink."

I do, for I know it will heal me, replenish the blood I've lost. Soon, I feel strength return to my body and my vision, which had dimmed, clears so I see his beautiful face poised over mine, his eyes dark.

Soon, I'm able to sit up and I examine the thin line where the wound used to be.

"Soren healed me completely without making me drink his blood."

"He's more powerful than I am."

"What
is
he?" I say, touching his arm. "What does he want?"

"He wants to be a god," he says, and then helps me up. "A god of war reborn. He wants to claim the Roman Church for his own. Use it to rule over all."

"And you? What will you be to him? He wants you with him."

He nods. "He wants me as his High Priest. His Pope."

He raises his eyes to meet mine as if he's embarrassed to admit this to me. Finally! Michel tells me something I didn't already know.

"And are you?" I say, heat rising in my face at his admission. "Are you his High Priest? Will you be his pope?"

He exhales. "I will. He wants Julien as his warlord."

A chill goes through me, my body numb. "And me? What am I supposed to be?"

His jaw tenses for a moment as if he's grinding his teeth.

"His Medium."

I frown. A Medium? "Do you mean like a psychic Medium? Is this what you meant by me being a conduit?"

He nods. "You'd channel – focus the powers of those you join with, giving Soren more powers. Powers he could tap and use to do miracles. Feats of wonder to ensnare unwitting believers. But he's not a god. He's an abomination. He's a monster. What did Yeats write?" He pauses for a moment, as if remembering and then he recites the poem, his voice grave.

"Things fall apart; the center cannot hold;


    Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,


    The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere


    The ceremony of innocence is drowned;


    The best lack all conviction, while the worst


    Are full of passionate intensity."

"I know that poem," I say, remembering it from high school English. "How does it end? Something about a monster being born."

"What rough beast," he says, his voice a whisper, "its hour come round at last,
  slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?"

"It was about the post-war years in Europe," I say in protest. "After the First World War."

"It's an allegory, using Biblical imagery. But what I'm talking about is Biblical, Eve."

"You mean like the Anti-Christ? You're saying Soren is the Antichrist? And you support this?"

"Not the Anti-Christ, no. But a monster none-the-less." He frowns at me, his blue eyes dark. "I don't support him. He's an abomination to me. I'll fight him. I have to find the right way to do so."

"By looking like you support him. But Michel, he's compelled you. How do you know he doesn't already know your plans to fight him?"

He shakes his head and turns his face away from me. Then he sighs heavily. He pulls me closer, his arms going around me. He leans in, his lips next to my ear.

"All I know is that he's trying to make sure I have no other choice but to comply with his wishes to save your life." He squeezes his arms around me so tightly that I can barely breathe. "Oh, God, Eve," he says. "I'm so tired of this. Trying not to say the wrong thing. Saying enough to convince you but not kill you. So tired…"

I pull away and he releases me, and there are tears in his blue eyes.

"Tell me!"

He cups my cheek, and strokes it with his thumb.

"I see it all," he says. "Every different future. Each decision, each word makes one future more likely to come true, and others less likely. Eve, if you could only just submit fully, I could save you but you have to fight me every second of the day…"

"Save my life? You mean I'll die if I don't submit to you?"

He says nothing, just brushes a strand of hair from my cheek.

"There are things worse than death."

"Quit being so cryptic!" I hit him, pound his chest for I'm angry and scared. He sounds demented. "Tell me or leave."

"Don't you
understand?
" he says and grabs my shoulders, shaking me, his face filled with grief. "I sentence you to death by telling you. I
can't
tell you. I've already told you too much. If I do tell you, you
will
die. This is my test – the test of what future I will allow to come and what price I'll pay…"

I push him away and stand up. "You're deluded."

I back away from him, but he won't leave me alone. He rises from the bed and follows me until he has me cornered. He presses against me so that I'm trapped, one of his arms on the wall beside my head.

"If I tell you, you'll die. Even telling you this makes it more likely and I'll have to scramble to adjust, recalculate, re-plot my course, alter my plan. Eve, I have to watch every act, every word," he says and shakes his head. "Every breath."

"You can't tell the future!"

He shakes his head sadly. "I can. With each word," he says and strokes my cheek. "We change it. Every time we speak, every time we make a decision, the future is altered. Don't you see? There are so few good futures for us, Eve. So many bad ones. I see them all, I see them change each time I talk of this with you. Please, just stop asking me. Just submit to me and let me save your life. I can't stand a universe without you beside me."

His expression of need for me touches my heart but I shake my head, unable to accept his words. He thinks he can see the future? It's impossible. It hasn't happened yet. He can't see it.

He
can't
.

He's deluded. This is what Julien was speaking about – Michel's obsession with controlling everything so he can affect the future.

"If you can see the future," I say, frowning, "then you knew you were going to cut my arm. You let it happen."

He sighs. "I saw myself cut you. I saw you bleeding, Eve. I saw you survive. I saw how that act cascaded forward into the future, altering it ever so slightly in my favor so I
let
it happen," he says and presses his finger against my lips. "Now please, go to sleep."

He leads me back to the bed and I lie down but sleep is long in coming, for I have his blood in me and his body is right there, pressed against mine.

I know he's aroused.

This could happen so easily. I can't let it.

I owe Julien that much.

CHAPTER TEN

"My love is selfish. I cannot breathe without you."

John Keats, Letters to Fanny Brawne

I wake with a start out of a bad dream in which I fall with someone’s sword in me, the blade piercing my heart, my hands around the sharp edges. I’m panting and Michel’s staring at me when I open my eyes, his brow furrowed, his expression dark.

“I saw myself being killed,” I say, barely able to speak.

“I know.” He doesn’t say anything more, but heaves a heavy sigh and cups my cheek. “You needn’t worry. I won’t let it happen.”

“That wasn't a vision of the future.” I sit up, my heart rate slowly returning to normal. “It was just a dream about my test today.”

“Eve,” he says, closing his eyes briefly. “You are so stubborn. You saw into my mind when you were waking."

I shake my head, refusing to believe something that's impossible. "I'm just anxious about the test."

"Don't worry," he says and strokes my cheek. "The tests will be a breeze for you. You have nothing to fear.”

He pulls me into an embrace and I’m distracted from the dream of my death. I haven’t decided yet.  I won’t be able to make my decision until I see Julien and talk to him.

The thought chokes me up and I hug Michel tightly, despite my vow not to encourage him. He knows what I’m thinking through our connection and pulls me even closer against him.

We just lie there for a moment, wallowing in the sensations of sadness and his attempt to calm me doesn't stop my fear about my decision.

I get up and before I close the door to leave, I turn back and stare at him. He turns on his side to face me, and his face has this haunted look, his blue eyes huge. We say nothing. There's no need to speak.

Then, I go to the showers, a choke in my throat. When I'm done, he's gone. I go to the cafeteria before preparing for my tests.

The written tests are first thing this morning, and are pretty short. Most of our testing will be through performance and fighting later this evening. We have several hours off in the afternoon to study for our fights and I wonder where Michel is. I return to my tiny room but he’s not there. I sit and go through my notes on various stances and moves and do some practice in the dojo, but he never shows up.

I wonder if Julien is already here and what he’ll do when he comes for me. My stomach is in knots just thinking of it.