Eternity (21 page)

Little did I know, it wouldn’t be my enemies who would cause my emotions to unravel.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN: PARIS, FRANCE

After another session with Ms. Beedinwigg, falling asleep came easy. I immediately drew my scroll from its pocket in the Hall of Records and swept my finger over the name that would take me to my life in Paris:

Previously Marie Lafayette – Died Paris, France, July 14, 1789

I was transported into my body at the time, immediately noticing that I was crouching. I was startled inside to see my own face staring back at me. Then I understood that my likeness was being reflected in a still pond.

While I had just reached my teenage years, my hair was the same wavy, chestnut color it had been throughout each of my lives. I had the same nose, eyes, and petite build. The only difference this time was the scar running from the line of my jaw down my neck. Apparently, I had survived an altercation earlier in my life.

The hands of this body reached in to scoop the cool, refreshing water in to my cupped palms when a horse neighed nervously from behind me. The hairs on the back of my neck rose then and began twisting madly around one another.

I stood quickly and spun around to find the horse, which I quickly deduced was mine and which was now fleeing.

From behind it stood Abaddon.

His hair hung in its typical greasy disarray but that didn’t seem to bother him. He sneered from beneath his long, beak-shaped nose. He wore a cloak embroidered with gold tassels, which he shrugged off as I came in to view, exposing his wings, inky black and grown to the length of his entire frame.

He appeared formidable.

“Tsk…tsk…tsk…” he clucked his tongue at me. “Marie, you’ve left yourself without protection…Shall I give you another scar so as to remind you not to do so again?”

Still grinning, he stepped forward, his feet crunching through the dead leaves of the forest floor.

“I don’t see why,” I said stoically in French. Though I’d never studied French in my classes on earth, I understood every word I spoke and I did it with undeniable fluency. “You won’t leave me alive long enough to learn the lesson.”

His head tilted back to release a long, cackling laugh. “I always have enjoyed your sense of humor. I’m going to miss it.”

He continued his advance towards me while I remained still.

My wings had sprung, however, and were extended, ready for flight.

Then the ground shook and someone was suddenly standing in front of me, blocking Abaddon.

“Jacques,” I heard myself calmly call out though I knew from the sight of him that it Eran standing between us and that I was using his name given during this lifetime. “I can handle this.”

“Step away, Magdalene,” he replied firmly, also in French.

“This is my fight,” I insisted.

Abaddon sighed loudly then, halting our argument. “Must we go through this ever time? Every time…” he said wearily. “He is your guardian. It is his responsibility to defend you. You really must allow him to perform his duties. Of course…I’m inclined to honor your wish and send him off so that you and I may fight instead.”

He was patronizing us and I had to forcefully subdue the anger that grew in me.

My eyes narrowed but I said nothing more.

“Or,” he shrugged. “I’ll fight you both.”

“Agreed,” I said and rose into the air, my body pivoting for attack.

Eran did the same and met Abaddon before me.

It was a pummeling, a fight that would have made Ms. Beedinwigg proud. Still, in the midst of it, I heard a hideous snigger from Abaddon just before he launched skyward, freeing himself.

He flew through the forest, winding around tree trunks with narrow but precise calculation, glancing back at us, leering, as we pursued him.

Reaching the forest’s border, we entered a field populated with wildflowers. Despite the color, it wasn’t what struck me.

I was focused on the chateau at the end of the field.

Apparently so was Abaddon as he aimed for it and flying directly through a window when reaching it, stained glass exploding into the room.

Eran, being faster than me, reached the window before I could and entered it. I followed and found that we’d entered a vacant but immaculately decorated hall.

Tapestries hung the length of one wall while a row of stained glass windows ran the opposite side. Leather chairs were positioned in groupings down the center.

Abaddon was nowhere in sight.

Eran was now hovering just inside the room, halfway between floor and ceiling, flapping his wings only when needed to stay aloft so as not to miss any sound Abaddon might make.

I lingered directly beside him. My hair was still on end so I knew that Abaddon was nearby.

The door at the end of the hall opened then and Marco stepped inside, his expression alert, cautious.

“H-Hello?” he called out.

This was not the conceited, aggressive man I remembered from school. He was meek, unsure of himself. The dagger he held at the end of his extended hand shook.

Eran and I waited until his head was turned and we dropped silently to the ground.

Slowly, Marco crept into the room.

“Hello?” he called out again.

He was the only sound or movement until Abaddon rose from behind a chair.

Wings sunk back into his body, he looked like nothing more than an intruder.

Marco swung his dagger in Abaddon’s direction.

“Who are you?” he demanded though it came out more along the lines of a whimper.

“My name is Abaddon,” he replied evenly. “I mean you no harm. I’ve simply lost my way.”

Marco’s brow furrowed. “Lost your way? Where were you going?”

Abaddon stepped forward.

“Don’t come any closer…” he said in a rush of words, though to his credit they sounded stern. “I would be forced to use my weapon.”

“And we wouldn’t want that,” said Abaddon, not the least bit threatened.

Eran spoke up then from the other side of the room. “Marco, leave the room,” he commanded.

Marco’s head snapped in our direction. He drew in a quick, troubled breath when seeing me. “No, I won’t,” he stated, a bit more firmly now. “Not until I see Mademoiselle Lafayette to safety.”

Simply from his conduct, it was easy to discern that Marco had already become infatuated with me.

“She is safe…Leave now.” Eran’s tone left no room for argument, yet Marco did not budge.

Abaddon scoffed. “Marie, you really do have multiple admirers.”

“Leave him be,” I shouted, the vehemence in my voice echoing down the hall.

Abaddon tilted his head then as if he were figuring out something complex. Ignoring me and addressing Marco, he asked, “And who are you?”

“Marco LaRoche, Mademoiselle Lafayette’s personal security here on the estate,” he said with an air of superiority.

“It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance,” said Abaddon cordially.

“Thank you, as it is for me. Now…I must require you to leave promptly or suffer the full weight of the law as it will surely be on my side.”

Examining Marco, judging him and the demand he’d made, Abaddon replied, “No, I’m not inclined to obey your request.”

Offended, Marco stated, “It is not a request, Monsieur.”

“Marco,” said Eran. “Leave the room…Now!”

Refusing, Marco stood his ground.

“Please, Marco,” I heard my voice call to him, desperate. “Please leave.”

“No, Mademoiselle Lafayette, I cannot oblige.”

Eran had likely come to the same conclusion as me: Abaddon was far too close in proximity to Marco for us to deflect any attack. By the time we reached that side of the room, Marco would suffer mortal injury. Being without any knowledge of what he faced and without any training to contend against it, Marco was an easy target. The only solution would be for Marco to willingly leave the room before the tension escalated and a fight resulted. With Marco acting as security for me and his clear inexperience, Abaddon would not deter from taking his life first.

“Please, Marco!” I begged.

“I will not,” Marco shouted back, bordering on insult.

Abaddon, enjoying this display of loyalty, asked, “Would you give your life for Mademoiselle Lafayette?”

“Yes,” said Marco, tilting his chin up proudly.

“Are you in love with Mademoiselle Lafayette?”

Marco hesitated, glancing in my direction. “Yes,” he said softly, submissively.

“Do you want to be with her until the end of time?”

“Yes.”

Even from our place down the hall I could see the desperation in Marco’s expression. He clearly had no idea what was coming next.

“Then allow me the honor of giving it to you…” said Abaddon, drawing a blade from behind his back, slicing it through the air and across Marco’s throat.

“No!” I heard myself scream, long and in despair.

Instantly, Eran was darting across the hall, his wings moving with powerful intent, closing the gap as quickly as possible between himself and Abaddon.

“No,” I said under my breath and fled across the room.

Wings now out, fluttering in the air, Abaddon spoke down to Marco who had collapsed to the ground. His instructions were simple and repulsive. “When you die, fall back to earth. Come find me, my friend, and we will make Mademoiselle Lafayette yours forever.”

Abaddon turned then and fled through the window closest to him, disappearing across the field.

Eran reached Marco before me, kneeling at his side, unable to stem the blood streaming from Marco’s wound.

Landing at his side my hand clasped around Marco’s.

Gurgling against the blood now filling his lungs, he squeezed my fingers and shuddered. His eyes, locked on me, were filled with confusion as he drifted away and fell silent and still.

“No!” My scream released deep in my throat, leaving it raw from its fury, resounding against the walls again and again.

I was yanked then, away from this body, and dropped into it later in life.

Marco was gone but the scream still lingered in my mind, like the echo down a deep cavern.

I had truly appreciated him, I sensed, and I was melancholic in knowing that there was nothing that could be done now to avoid the way life had evolved.

Learn, I told myself. That is what you are here to do.

I refocused on my surroundings and found that I faced another row of windows. This one overlooked a city below. It was early morning and fires raged across the horizon, burning structures and sending hazy smoke into the darkness. Somehow, in the deep recesses of my memory, I understood what I was looking at to be the city of Paris.

From behind me, I heard the door open and turning I found it was a page boy.

“Madame Lafayette,” he said in French, closing the door behind him, “your guests have been assembled. But…but not all of them stayed.”

I felt my head tilt to the side. “Why is that?” I asked in the same language.

“They…Some of the nobles didn’t feel they should wait in the same line as the bourgeois…the peasants is how they explained it.”

My expression remained stoic and my voice did not waver when I answered. “That is their choice. Please begin sending them in one at a time. Thank you, Monsieur Desmoulins.”

“I must warn you, Mademoiselle…you put yourself at great risk assembling so many on your estate and when chaos is at your doorstep.”

“I am aware…and I thank you for your concern. They will stay.”

Monsieur Desmoulins appeared fearful and in disagreement but his final comment on the subject was not contentious. It was in support. “I simply wish they knew all that you, as a noblewoman, have done to provide for them, to protect them.”

My lips lifted in a kind smile. “What little I’ve done was not intended for reputation.”

He turned to the door again but hesitated and looked back. “It was not little, Mademoiselle… and I would feel most comfortable if you at the least had your dogs by your side.”

“That will be fine.”

Appeased, he nodded. “I will fetch the dogs and begin sending them in.”

My body moved then towards two chairs in the center of the room. They faced the door so that when I sat and the door opened I knew who was coming through.

Monsieur Desmoulins appeared again a few minutes later, releasing two French mastiffs into the room. Watching them from this body, I recognized them instantly and called out their names in silence. Annie and Charlie, tails wagging, bounded towards me to nudge their noses in my palms for a brief petting and then curled up at my feet.

For the next hour and a half, I took messages for the people who had come to the estate wishing to communicate to the dead. Some were thankful, others remorseful, and still others showed little emotion. Of this last kind, many of them were peasants suffering through the tumultuous time of what would become known as the French Revolution.

From inside this body, I desperately wanted to console them, tell them that all they were enduring would end soon and that the sacrifices they’d made would not be in vain. But, I had no control over this body.

I was simply a passenger.

When I had taken my last message, I walked to the window for another look at Paris, Annie and Charlie following loyally.

More fires burned now. A gathering of tricolored cockades marched through the streets, most carrying weapons.

The door behind me opened again but this time my body remained in position, my awareness was so tuned to the streets.

The dogs’ tails began thumping the ground excitedly as I listened to someone cross the room. He stopped directly beside me.

An earthy scent reached my nose and I knew instantly who it was. Not a second went by and I began to calm down and feel the cocoon of safety that only Eran could bring.

“There is talk of storming the Bastille,” he informed me quietly in French.

“It appears that is where they are headed now.” I gestured towards the assemblage in the streets. “Is there anything we can do to stop it?”

“Nothing,” said Eran wistfully. “Nothing at all.”