After we got back downstairs and I’d just closed my eyes, the cellar door opened again. Since the three of us were accounted for, it could only mean trouble. We put out the candle and scrambled to our feet. The first thing we saw was the electric glow of another cell phone set to flashlight mode. Our visitor moved slowly into view, got to the bottom of the stair, and stopped. We couldn’t see who it was behind the glare of the light, but I was busy preparing to get my bruised brain back into gear.
“Finn?” said a soft, feminine voice. “It’s me.”
My heart leapt when Colette shown her light on her own face. I crossed the distance to her using my own light. When we were just a few feet apart, I stopped. I could just see her face in the reflected glow of the two lights.
Colette’s heart-shaped face, kinky brown hair, and simple white blouse over jeans smacked me like an anvil. Everything I felt and wanted to say ricocheted around and jammed up my brain. I couldn’t speak.
The smell of her perfume wafted in toward me and threatened to overwhelm me in memories—her memories. This perfume was more than just a random scent to her. It was the same scent her mother wore when she was alive. Colette wore it when she wanted to feel secure, when she wanted to believe her mother was still near. I struggled to stay afloat in the flood of associations, to come up with something adequate to say. I groped for some way to apologize for what I had done. My memories of her life had dimmed somewhat, but I still knew her better than any other person in my life. Even Holly—and I’d shared souls with Holly for an entire day. Still, I had no idea what Colette was going to do. If she attacked me with a knife again, I would die. I would have been okay with dying for what I’d done.
Her haunted, bruised eyes showed me that she wasn’t faring much better. I opened my mouth to speak but still nothing came out. I heard Dave and Jen moving around behind me, but didn’t care.
She spoke English. “Henri and Katerine are dead.”
Her words flew through my ears and shattered in my head, shredding me with shrapnel of grief and pain. I reeled a step back. I knew them both. I had memories of them stretching back decades. “But, how...” I pretty much knew what had happened to Henri—I’d crushed his windpipe. “Katerine...?”
“You stopped her heart.”
“No! I didn’t...That’s not...I couldn’t!”
“You need to know just how strong you are.”
I nearly collapsed “Oh, my God. Oh, dear God, no.” I remembered horseback riding with Katerine. She was cool and a bit aloof, but so graceful and elegant...I wanted to vomit.
“I’m...” I choked back the nausea. “I’m, so sorry, Colette.
Colette said, “Please don’t kill her.”
I knew she was talking about her grandmother. “Oh God, Colette. I don’t want to! But, she’s... you know how she is.”
Colette nodded, her lips compressed in miserable sorrow—sorrow which mirrored my own. Gruff, self righteous, and inflexible as Mémèr was, she was the heart of the Delacroix and all that was left of Colette’s immediate family. Colette’s father had disappeared when she was twelve. Her mother and her brother had presumably died at the hands of Matt Smith or his assassins. But now, after losing Henri and Katerine...
“I can’t give it to her,” I said.
“I know. You know she would never hurt your friends or family.”
“I think you merely wish it were so, but it doesn’t matter. If the shadow takes her, I may not be able to stop her.” She was old, crafty, and I’d already felt how powerful. I trumped her easily on sheer strength, but she knew so much. I’d caught her by surprise once, but it wouldn’t happen twice. As they say, “Old age and treachery will always overcome youth and vigor.”
We stared at each other. We were inextricably linked, but stood on different sides of a vast chasm. My head reeled, contemplating the depth of that fault.
“I’m sorry,” she said, her face twisted into deeper sorrow. “I didn’t know. How could I have known?”
She was talking about what she’d done to me—everything I had been through. Her understanding was soothing balm to my raw guilt. Tears started to pour down my eyes. They were mirrored on her face.
She scowled, swiped a hand across her eyes, and said, “I never cry.”
“I do.” I barked a short laugh. “All the time. Sorry about that.”
I ached to go to her, to crush her to me, feel her in my arms, and never let go, but I couldn’t. We both knew it.
“I’m going after Mark. Tell Mémèr to stay out of my way. Tell her that if she stays away, I won’t come for her, but if she threatens me or mine, I’ll do what I have to do.”
Colette nodded. We both knew that Mémèr would never back off, just as we both knew the pain losing her would cause Colette. If nothing else, I needed her to know that I was totally sincere. I didn’t want to kill ever again.
“I won’t help her,” she said.
She meant when Mémèr came after me. “I’m so sorry, Colette. I wish...What did Mémèr say? Will this, this thing with us, pass?”— I waved my hand between us to indicate the intermixing of our selves.
“I didn’t tell her.”
That surprised me. I’d assumed in the courtyard that Granny was condemning me for mind-raping her granddaughter.
“Why? Why didn’t you tell her? Why are you here? Why aren’t the rest of your family here?”
She locked sad eyes with me. “I love you, Finn, now that I know...what you are, what you have been through. Mémèr’s wrong, there is no one better to carry the True Cross...”
Hearing that confession was like a flaming brand had been applied to the wounds in my brain. It hurt like hell, but it also healed. I’d never felt such a connection to another person. Every bit of her, the good and the bad, was precious.
In effortless French I said, “I love you, too. Will you ever forgive me?”—for violating her mind, killing Henri, Katerine, and possibly her grandmother, for existing.
“Maybe. I don’t know if I can,” she said. My heart twisted in sorrow. “My family will not.”
“Tell the others. Stay away.”
She nodded her understanding. “I will. Goodbye, Finn.”
I blinked my eyes to keep more tears at bay. Colette would appreciate that. “Goodbye, little Marie.”
She gazed straight into my eyes for a moment, as if searching for answers, then she walked back up the stairs, and was gone.
Well Romeo, you just wrote Juliet out of this play,
offered Spring. She was awake again. I guess the food was having an effect.
Yeah
,
Spring, I know.
I turned to face Jen. Her face, so different from Colette’s, was cloaked in shadows and concern. I went to her and took her in a fierce embrace, returned equally by her. I felt shattered, but I was determined to hold the pieces together for Jen. None of this was Jen’s fault, she didn’t deserve to be burdened with it. I breathed in the smell of her and let it carry me away, calm me down. It was a moment before I noticed her stiffness in my arms.
I pushed back from our embrace and met her upturned gaze.
“Jen? Are you alright?” It was difficult to tell in the gloom.
“Do you want to be with her?”
That curve-ball flew out of left field, and clonked me on the head. I’d assumed we were on the same wavelength—mourning the unnecessary deaths of two friends, but of course, she didn’t even know them. For her, those deaths only meant two less enemies. She was so young and insecure. She seemed so confident and strong in my room, but she was barely a woman, just a girl, a beautiful, but naive, child. No, that wasn’t me thinking that. That was Colette’s yardstick. From the perspective of age twenty-six, Jen seemed impossibly young. But then again, I did too. To Colette, what Jen and I felt for each other was just youthful infatuation. She’d experienced it herself when she was even younger than me. She believed I’d come around and realize that marrying her was the right move. I wondered if she could be right.
Hello, earth to Finn, don’t keep her waiting.
Oh, right. “No Jen,” I croaked out. I cleared my throat. “I want to be here with you. Nowhere else.”
“But you love her?”
I didn’t know how exactly I did feel, but I owed it to her to try and put something into words. “Yes, but it’s like...like she is a part of me. We shared so much when I broke through her barriers. I know her...”
her fire, her fears, her insecurities, and her strength. “
Like a twin sister.
..”
“Oh.” Jen processed this for a further moment. “I think I need to get some sleep now.”
You know you’re not being completely honest with her
,
don’t you?
asked Spring.
No Spring, I don’t know that. I don’t know what I’m feeling, what I want.
“Okay,” I said. “Can I come join you?”
“Yes, I’d like that.”
She padded off into the darkness and I turned to find David staring at me through the gloom.
“Would you like some popcorn with your show?” I asked.
“Wow, you really did get Colette’s memories.”
“A lot of them.”
“You lucky bastard! So, who enjoys sex more, men or women? Is it freaky to remember doing it with a guy?”
“Ha, ha...” Memories of passionate sex with different men bubbled up from the depths and overwhelmed any other reaction to his jest. Chastity was not one of the Catholic virtues Colette believed in. She was hot-blooded, impetuous, and sexual. I suppressed a shudder and Spring said,
Pay attention
,
Finn. How many guys get to understand exactly what turns a girl on? How often do you get their true opinion of your performance?
Spring! I’m so glad you’re back, but...
I know, I know, me too. Oooh, look at this! Once you dance with me baby, you never go back!
Colette’s memories of herself and me behind the dance club flashed into my mind. It was seriously weird. In her mind, I didn’t look anything like me. I mean, yeah I could kind of recognize the guy she saw, but I’d never imagined creating those kinds of feelings in a woman. Nevertheless, her feelings at the time were very clear. If I’d started pulling off her clothes, she would have helped. Crap! If that lunk-head Fergus McCormick wasn’t dead already, I’d kill him for interrupting that night. Maybe I’d go spit on his grave.
“Well?” asked Dave, bringing me back to his question. “Which is it?”
“Gaah! You’re such a pig. Don’t do that to me!”
Dave laughed. “I’ll bet that’s a serious mind-twister!” He leaned forward. “So what’s the verdict, who enjoys it more?”
I had to laugh at his enthusiasm. Once again, he’d made me feel better by being an insensitive jerk. I think he planned it this way. I hoped.
“Dave, I don’t know what I’d do without you. Thank you.”—for being my friend, for being here, for having my back.
He grinned and said, “Of course, without me, you’d just curl up into a quivering blob. Now enough chit-chat, answer the question.”
“No, I don’t think I will. A gentleman never kisses and tells, you know.” I gave him my best evil grin. I hoped he could see it in the dim light. I turned and headed back to Jen.
“Hey! Whoever told you, you were a gentleman?”
I chuckled and walked over to Jen.
She looked young, vulnerable, and utterly precious in the blue light of my phone.
Maybe we should move to Utah and become Mormons. Then you could have as many wives as you want.
Oh, hush you.
I felt her mirth as she subsided, and realized that I felt much better. With Spring’s awakening, all my pains, internal and external, faded like distant thunder. Damn, I was lucky.
And don’t forget it boy!
Never! You wouldn’t let me.
I gently knelt beside Jen and kissed her forehead. Tears glistened on her cheeks. Uncertain of her reception, I pulled back, prepared to give her some space, and tried to guard my heart.
She opened her eyes and looked up at me. I stopped, uncertain what to expect. I searched her face for a clue.
“Finn, do you still love me?”
Warmth melted the protective cover I’d tried to create in case she didn’t want to be with me anymore.
“I love you, Jen. You were right. I’m yours.” I just hoped that Colette would stop dominating my thoughts—and that Jen would never get the chance to experience them.
She smiled, and for that moment, everything was alright.
I turned off my phone to save the battery, cuddled down beside her, breathed in her now-familiar smell, and snuggled into her small cocoon of warmth. Sleep quickly snuck up behind me, smacked me on the head, and knocked me out cold.
***
From a shallow, dream-filled sleep, something called for my attention. Something was wrong. I awoke with Jen in my arms, but something was very wrong with her. Jen’s skin was cold against mine. She wasn’t moving.
“Jen?” I shook her gently. “Jen!” There was no reaction, and I started to panic. I brought up my sight and understanding slapped me into some sense of sobriety. Jen’s aura was nearly non-existent, but for a small remnant. Her heart beat slowly, and her breathing came shallow and timid. She was gone again. Just like before, in the van, but now there was no cord leading away from her.
“Finn? What’s going on,” asked Dave.
“Jen’s soul’s gone! Just like in the van.”
I didn’t listen to his curses. I had to find her. She was out there somewhere, maybe lost thanks to me. Thanks to Colette, I knew what to do. I gathered up everything I knew about Jen and held it together in my mind. I focused on the gestalt that was Jen—her fiery temper, her strength, her insecurity, her inexplicable love for me. I took that concept and cast it as a call.
Jen!
Immediately after that, I thinned myself out and felt for her.
That was another technique that I’d inherited from Colette. She was very good at finding people, and now I hoped I was, too. Almost immediately, I felt Jen. I tried to focus in on her, I couldn’t lose her. Her presence intensified and gentle hands touched my cheek. “Finn?”
I opened my eyes and looked down at Jen’s quizzical expression. Her aura was back, strengthening like someone had her on a dimmer switch.