Seduction: A Novel of Suspense (43 page)

“I am quite an accomplished thief. I took the ones you created for Madame Juliette.”

“You’ve been quite busy.” You were clearly flustered.

“I’ve just had a meeting or two.”

“There’s a lot of effort involved in doing what you suggest. To set up a full working laboratory is not a simple task.”

“I’m sure it will take some effort, but think of the results.”

“More than effort, it will take desire, and you forget, I have none.”

“Not now, you don’t. Or you believe you don’t,” I said. “But once you get started you will.”

“Except I am not interested in cultivating desire. Why are you meddling in my life like this? I didn’t ask you for help. I don’t want to talk to people and sell perfume and be reminded of my father and my life in Paris and Antoine and our—”

I interrupted, unwilling to be deterred. “But the life you have built for yourself has no future.”

The look you gave me said more than a hundred words could have. And I read them all without exertion. I had seen the haunted eyes you turned on me in my own mirror.

“Come, let’s walk,” I said, taking your arm. Even though we were on sand, I heard pebbles shifting and looked down for an
explanation. There were not even shells on this part of the beach. What was that sound?

“Will you consider the offer? Even if you can’t imagine wanting this for yourself, will you allow that I know it could be a good life for you?”

You didn’t answer at first. It seemed to me that the night grew quieter. The waves stilled, almost as if even the sea was waiting for your response.

“I appreciate what you are trying to do, but I would ask you to stop. I don’t want you to try and save me. Can you honor that request?”

“No. My daughter lost her life, but she had no choice in the matter. You do have a choice. I cannot bear to see you squander it. And for what? A system that is prejudiced? A man whose family would not accept you because you were of the working class and he of the aristocracy? An uncle who was able to throw you out of a family business because you were a female? There has been no fairness shown to you, and I want to right those wrongs.” I had begun to weep openly, but I didn’t care. I was fighting for something important.

“You cannot. Don’t you understand that? I don’t want your help. Please leave me be.”

I was disappointed and angry. I threw up my hands. Maybe there was nothing I could do for you.

“As you wish,” I said, and then I turned and stomped away. I’d gone twenty or thirty steps when I felt a sudden need to look back. Not more than two minutes could have passed, but already you were gone.

“Fantine?” No answer. “Fantine?” I shouted louder. You didn’t respond.

I ran back to the shore and saw what I had not been able to see from where I’d been standing. You had walked into the sea. Were walking still, your clothes billowing out around you. I didn’t have to stop and think. I knew exactly what you were planning. You wanted to drown yourself. I understood the sounds I’d heard when you’d moved earlier—not pebbles underfoot but stones you’d sewn into your dress.

And so the battle began. The water was freezing. You were heavy because of all those rocks in your pockets and in your hem. And you
fought me with a ferocity I wouldn’t have expected. I’d never known anyone who wanted more to die than you did that night. But something in me could no sooner let you drown than I could have let Didine drown.

A wave crashed over us, and for a moment I lost you. I swallowed too much water. Came up coughing. I wondered if I was going to be the one to drown. Would you watch as I lost my life in that cold, salty water? Or would you come to my rescue? Then I caught my breath, found my footing and grabbed hold of you.

You fought and hit and scratched and pulled at my hair. Another wave came and we both lost balance. I managed to keep hold of you and together we were thrown toward the shore, then pulled out toward the sea again. When the water receded, you were still in my arms and you’d stopped fighting. You were limp. In the breakers’ turmoil, as I later found out, you’d hit your head and now were unconscious and even heavier than before. I ripped at your dress and pulled off the skirt that was full of rocks. With that weight gone, I was able to fight the current and drag your body up onto the beach.

Your breathing was shallow and your eyes were closed and you were unresponsive. I didn’t know what to do. Or how to get help. To do that I’d have to leave you, and that seemed the most dangerous path to take. It was cold out, the water had been freezing and we both were soaked through. I knew that if you were going to survive, if I was going to survive, we needed to warm up.

Lucifer’s Lair was just behind us. I’d seen kindling there and flints. If I could carry you to the cave, perhaps there was a chance. Perhaps.

We were lucky that the tide was low enough that I was able to carry you to the rocks, lower you down to the entranceway to the cave and pull you inside. I dragged you to the innermost chamber, where I worked for what seemed like hours but was in fact mere minutes, rubbing the flints together to get a spark and finally light a fire. I noticed that pieces of ancient carved amber were mixed in with the kindling, and on any other occasion I would have stopped to take them out, but there was no time. Some of the hashish from my pipe was close to the fire too and in my haste fell onto the flames. As a result the smell of the fire was sweetened by the combination of the drug and the resin mixed with the wood. The cave took on the odor of a forest burning down, of endings, of disasters, of the world not caring what it takes, destroys and chews up. You lay there as proof of its ambivalence. So pale you were almost incandescent.

“Fantine! Fantine!”

You didn’t respond.

In the firelight I could see blood on your neck. I needed to attend to that, but first I pulled off your outer clothes and mine. It wouldn’t matter if I stanched your wound if you froze to death first.

Laying you as close to the fire as I could, feeling its heat in my own
bones, I searched for and found the gouge where you’d hit your head. Then I grabbed a piece of my own wet clothing and held that to your wound.

I’ve seen men fight for their lives and others who beg to die when the pain is too great. Watching over you, tending to you, I recognized you as one of the latter. There was nothing holding you on earth. I felt your willingness to let go.

“Fight, Fantine,” I whispered over and over. And finally I heard an answer. But it wasn’t coming from you.

Let her go, Hugo. Don’t fight for her. She’s moments away. I’ll take her and give you your daughter back.

I turned. The Shadow of the Sepulcher was making his way toward me. Not quite walking and not quite floating either. It was an otherworldly movement. In his presence I felt as I always did, as if every breath I took came from a deeper part of my chest. I could see with more clarity, hear with more acuity. I was more alive in the presence of death than at any other time in my life.

“Why are you torturing me?” I asked. “I already told you no, I will not help you.”

I need you, Hugo. I need you to resurrect my stature. I need you if I am to be redeemed. What I ask is so little, what I offer in return is so great.

“It is impossible!”

Not impossible.

“Impossible and so very wrong. It’s evil to take one soul in exchange for another.” I glanced down at your sleeping form, naked in the firelight. Your beautiful spirit, broken. You only wanted to escape your disconsolate condition. And I only wanted to save you. Why? Why did you matter to me so much?

It was as if the Shadow could hear my thoughts.

You showed me with the first two girls the mistake I was making. They were full of life and the future. You could never have let them go. But this one wants to go, Hugo. She yearns to join her baby and hold the infant in her arms. Even as a spirit it would be more gratifying to her than this world of flesh and blood. Why do you resist? That woman has already given up.

“What you are suggesting is horrible. No man should be offered such authority or power over another.”

I can see in your eyes how much you want to say yes. Yes, say it. Yes! Yes! Say yes and your Leopoldine will wake up in your arms.

The Shadow was watching me. The firelight played in his hair and illuminated the topaz eyes, giving them their own burning glow.

This sacred site has been a place of sacrifice for the greater good for centuries. Here ancient, sometimes brutal rituals have been enacted out of a desire to protect the tribe. In older times men did not question the spirit world as they do now. They killed if that was what was asked of them.

There was a forlorn lilt to his words, a sense of longing for that past.

Magic was revered. Worship was meaningful. The spirit world was honored and obeyed. Your séances reanimated a spirit long gone silent on the island. We are always available to visit when we are invited. I sensed in you an intellectual equal. How could I resist a chance to discuss grand philosophical topics with someone who comprehended them as you do? I thought I had found a believer, a man of great mental acuity who would lend me his voice.

“I cannot accept what you offer,” I said again, but my voice didn’t have the strength it had had. I was worn down, exhausted and more afraid than I had been on any of the other nights I’d passed in this creature’s company.

The Shadow was watching me so carefully, I felt as if he was seeing my mind working.

In the meantime, you had not stirred. You’d lost so much blood, and though I’d stanched your wound, your color was now unearthly pale. Or was that a trick of the brightly colored fire? How much longer could you last?

Suddenly, I felt as if someone had poured lead into my body. Moving even a finger was a great effort.

“What have you done to me?” I asked the Shadow.

It takes enormous concentration for you to hear and understand me for such a length of time. That’s what is making you so lethargic.

“If Fantine woke up now, would she hear you?”

No. My voice is inaudible to all but you. It’s inside your mind.

“But your mouth is moving. I hear the fire under your words.”

The imagination is a powerful tool.

“Can I call you forth at will?”

He laughed.

Ah, what a terrible, beautiful sound it was. As if he’d created his laugh from nightingales’ songs, from bells. The sound was glorious, and when I heard it, I felt anointed. I think I’ve written about what a handsome man he was. But I’m sure I’ve failed to really convey his appearance. His skin was shimmering. His eyes were deeper than infinite space, and looking at him was like looking up at the heavens and letting their full wonder overwhelm me. His limbs were long and moved with a fluidity that mortals cannot manage. And he exuded a scent—a lush smoky scent that was both ancient and modern, filled with sweetness.

No, this isn’t magic. You can’t say a spell and have me show up like a genie from a lamp. I have come for a purpose. Once I leave I will be gone. Lucifer will not be available to you for mere conversation.

I knew I needed to break free of his words, but I couldn’t make myself stop listening to that mellifluous voice.

I only want to give you what you desire more than anything else on earth.

My eyes started to smart. The cave was filling with thick smoke. I lost sight of the walls, the floor. It seemed to be coming from the Shadow himself. And in the smoke, I saw Didine. Her clothes were in tatters. There was mud and debris woven in her hair. She lifted her arms. Her fingers reached for mine.

“Didine?”

The smoke swirled. She was disappearing. I grabbed for her. Clutched air.

“Didine?” I was losing her all over again.

I chose a woman who wants to die, Hugo. It is in your power to give her that gift. Fantine will have her relief, and your daughter will be returned to you. Are you capable of denying Didine—of denying yourself?

My daughter wanted to come back to me. It was in my power to bring her back. But how could I make this choice? One life for another? If only I could lie down next to you and sleep your sleep and escape this apparition and his beguiling offer.

All Fantine wants is to go to her child—a child she has never seen take a breath. And you are preventing her.

“If Didine comes back in Fantine’s body, will she even know me? Will she know her mother?”

He shook his head, and his curls danced in the firelight.

Not at first. She won’t remember the details of her life before for weeks. But her love for you, for her mother, that will be instantaneous. The soul can recall what the mind forgets. She will love you as her father from the first moment she opens her eyes. The bond between the two of you will be restored.

“But what price will I pay?” I cried.

For liberating one soul and rescuing another? Why should you pay any price?

I watched the flames and tried to grasp what he was saying. Could this be?

Beside me, you moaned in your semiconscious sleep. It was the first sound you had made since I’d pulled you out of the sea. It was one of the saddest sounds I think I have ever heard, filled as it was with a mourning parent’s pathos. I too had felt it, I understood. It made me want to weep.

Do you hear how unhappy she is?

His voice was compassionate.

Fantine has lost so much in such a short time. Two years, is it? Parents, lover, child, home, livelihood.

“Why? Why has she lost so much? Is it just the way of the world?”

Yes.

“To what end?”

You will have to live your way into those answers. But of all the men I have met, you, Hugo, are capable of finding those answers and sharing them.

“How can you be so sure?”

I have known you for millennia. We have walked these paths, you and I, before. Many times, my friend, dating back to all beginnings.