The Beholder (12 page)

Chapter 22

“Jason?” a melodious voice sang through the curtains of blackness. The voice was somewhere close. “Jason?”

A light touch on his shoulder made him groan at the effort of waking. His face and hands were alive and tingling before he’d even opened his eyes. His head rocked with pain.

“Jason, wake up,” Emily whispered.

Light filtered through translucent curtains, their weak material rippling in a slight breeze. Jason’s eyes watered and stung. He raised his arm to shield them from the torturous light, and saw his hand was covered in dried blood.

“What happened?”

“It was a trap,” Emily said, combing Jason’s disheveled hair with her fingers. The sensation was pure magic, and Jason closed his eyes. “As soon as you touched the mark, one of the shadows sensed it and attacked. You were right. They were watching us, waiting for us to come.”

“I saw them. I saw the shadows.” Jason tried to prop himself on one elbow, but his body seemed filled with lead. “They hurled a boy through a tunnel. They were going to kill him.”

“Alexei,” Emily said, and her eyes were sad. “The mark worked, but not in the way I wanted. You’re still Unsighted. I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be. It could have worked. You didn’t know.”

Silence settled, and Emily lowered her gaze to her lap.

“What happened when the shadow burst through the window?” he asked after a moment. “Why did everything go black?”

“She attacked me from behind, trying to catch me off guard. But I was faster.” Emily’s expression was tight, her skin pale, as if reliving the memory sucked powers out of her.

“She?” Jason’s eyes opened wide.

“Yes. Remember the mark? It said CD. That mark belongs to Catherine Delacroix, one of Pariah’s favorites. She was trying to transport us into the Dark Tunnel, but I managed to get rid of her and transport you here. But …” She frowned and her eyes flicked over Jason’s face and body. “I’m confused. I can’t make your wounds heal.”

“It’s all right,” Jason said, clenching and unclenching his fists. He glanced carefully around the room. “What is this place?”

“It’s an apartment I found. The owner is away most of the time, so we can stay here a few hours. But if you’re wondering where we are geographically,” she said, offering a small smile, “we are in Paris.”

“Wow,” Jason groaned. “That’s mind-boggling.”

She nodded vaguely, her gaze traveling past him. “Yeah, except somehow I got us to the wrong side of Paris. And now …” She creased her brow, frustrated with her failure. “I can’t do anything. The journey took too much of my Energy.”

“This place seems just fine to me.” He managed to roll to one elbow, then squinted at the sunlight filtering through the window.

“Yes, but it’s not as safe as it should be.”

The bedsprings squeaked as Jason got up and trudged to the window, every inch of him burning with slices from the broken glass. He couldn’t imagine how he looked, but thought it was probably pretty grim. If she hadn’t been able to get them out of there …

A tall tree took up most of the view from the window, but Jason could make out the sharp spires of an ancient cathedral rising above the buildings. How ironic that he was finally in one of the most beautiful cities in the world, and he couldn’t even step outside.

“I made breakfast while you were sleeping,” Emily announced, and Jason’s stomach gurgled.

He followed his nose into a tiny kitchen and was rewarded by the sight of bacon and eggs served on two plates.

“Mmm, I’m starving,” he growled enthusiastically, grabbing a knife and fork. Breakfast had never tasted so good. “It’s perfect.”

“Well, it’s not much, but—”

He smiled up at her as she sat beside him. “No, no. Everything is perfect. To end up in Paris and have breakfast with you … it’s like a dream. A
good
dream for a change.”

Emily blushed, and they ate in silence until Jason asked, “You mentioned something about being born in Paris?”

“Yes, my grandparents and mother are French, so I spent my childhood not too far from here.”

“What about your father?” Jason asked.

“He was Irish. His greatest passion—his second greatest, after my mum—was traveling. He actually met her on a train to Paris.” Emily smiled and combed back her thick hair, her hands moving with an impossible elegance. Jason wanted to touch her flawless image, stroke her soft cheeks or neck, but he was afraid to ruin this beautiful moment. Instead, he sat back and contented himself with listening to Emily tell stories about growing up nearby.

Eventually she said they had been in one place long enough, and they would have to leave the apartment, a fact which brought them both back to the moment. Jason tensed. What if Catherine Delacroix returned and chased them down?

“Don’t worry,” Emily assured him, as if reading his thoughts again. “She’s nowhere around here. I’m going to take you to a special place, and we should be safe there—at least for a while.”

Emily spoke French perfectly, and it was simple for her to flag down a taxi and tell the driver where to go. The driver, a bulky man with deep wrinkles lining his forehead, growled good-naturedly to Emily while she chirped something in French. Jason listened, trying to understand at least some of the words, but it was a lost cause. He gave up and gazed out the window instead, watching France pass by.

He lost track of time along the way and hadn’t paid attention to when they reached the forest. But as he looked out and saw tall beech and oak trees edging the road on both sides, he realized they were not going to Paris, but away from it. Half an hour later the driver turned left into a branch-shielded gravel lane that was hardly noticeable from the road. The trees encroached upon the track as they went deeper into the forest, their low branches banging the car roof in protest. The car bumped and rocked as they tested the cab’s springs on all the potholes.

When the trees finally drew aside, a clearing came into view. Jason glanced at Emily, and though the sunlight was fading with the day’s passing, he could see her face lighting with happiness and relief. They drove slowly past untended gardens, thick with wild plants and flowers, heading towards a two-story building. The estate had obviously been neglected for a long time, but the structure still looked impressive. They pulled up alongside the house, then the driver made a U-turn and parked. Emily and Jason climbed out, Emily paid the amount on his meter, and the driver wished them good luck.

“Merci beaucoup, monsieur Blanc. Que vous êtes bon! Au revoir,”
Emily said, then waved as he reversed his car. Soon it disappeared among the trees.

Emily had become as cheerful as a child, more wonderful than ever, and he felt an overwhelming need to cuddle and protect her from the outside world.

“It turns out that Monsieur Blanc was an old friend of my grandfather’s,” she explained, then spread her arms to indicate the house. “This is my grandfather’s estate. I haven’t been here since I was ten years old.”

“Why not?”

Emily sighed. “It’s a long story. Let’s go in and make ourselves comfortable, and I’ll tell you all about it.”

Though the house had been vacant for many years, it was in a fairly good state. But it was difficult to imagine the place ever having been comfortable or cozy. The remaining windows, bare of curtains, stared sightlessly down at a withered garden, and the foundation and walls were cracked, the plaster flaked off in places.

Emily climbed the stairs and pulled the door handle, which opened easily. Emily disappeared into the dark with Jason right behind. When he was safely inside, the door closed with a forbidding bang, and everything turned black.

Emily started to glow. As Jason watched, her entire body pulsed with a steady, opalescent yellow-green light, occasionally becoming red or blue. Her hands swept gracefully in the air, slender fingers bending and straightening, emitting Energy. The light showed Jason the dusted and faded old-fashioned furniture, but when her energy landed nearby, it became fresh and new again. An old chandelier shot suddenly upwards and attached itself to the ceiling, and any holes in the rotted floor filled with new boards. He watched in silent awe as the floor covered itself with shining parquet, and the ancient portraits of men and women in gilded frames emerged from under gray shrouds and took their places on the walls. A large wooden table appeared out of nowhere, and fresh red curtains without a speck of dust tied themselves to cornices with thick green cords.

Emily’s hands danced, rewinding time to decades before, when the walls of the house had vibrated with laughter and cheerful voices. Her energy caught, and the room glowed with the lights of the chandelier as well as with the candles on the table and walls, and still Emily’s light prevailed. The earlier atmosphere of desolation and discomfort evaporated in less than a minute.

Eventually things began to move more slowly, in accordance with Emily’s hands—until the room froze into perfect stillness.

Jason paced towards the middle of it, his steps echoing off the varnished parquet floorboards. On the left, a fireplace burned, its logs crackling a merry song. Above the fire flickered five long, red candles, illuminating the portrait of an elderly person on the wall, almost bringing him to life. Jason studied the man more closely, then looked at Emily, noticing a similarity.
Her grandfather,
he thought.

While Emily was busy with inspecting her handiwork, Jason entered one of the nearby rooms and looked around. It appeared to be a study, judging by a heavy oak desk and numerous well-stocked bookshelves. An open book lay on the desk; even a cup of tea steamed on a coaster nearby. The room seemed untouched by time, as if someone had only just left the room and would return within moments.

Emily entered, and Jason shook his head, smiling. “Fascinating,” he said.

“Now it looks more like a home. I wish I could do the same about people,” she said, crossing her arms. “I mean … bring them back to life.”

“The more time I spend with you, the more I’m surprised by you, Emily,” he said, “and to be honest, I want to spend a lot more time with you.” It dawned on him how empty and meaningless his life would become if she wasn’t in it. She had become as important to him as Matthew and Debbie. Except there was something more, too. When she was around him, he felt almost … intoxicated.

“I feel the same about you,” Emily confessed, and in the candlelight he saw the shine of tears in her eyes.

She stepped back, breaking the awkward tension. “Let’s go have some supper. You must be hungry.”

“Famished,” growled Jason. “There’s food here?”

“Come on. Let’s see what I can put together.” She waved a graceful hand, inviting him to follow, and he realized he would follow her anywhere just so he could see her amber eyes, watch the curving paths of her long brown mane.

Emily apparently found plenty of food, because the kitchen table brimmed with fruits, vegetables, meat, and wine.

“Can you make things appear out of nowhere?” he asked, staring at the feast.

“No.” Emily gave him a wide smile. “But I can renew them by injecting live Energy into them. There were loads of foodstuffs left since my last stay here, and I was too little to care about things like that back then. So everything stayed here all these years.”

Jason grimaced and dropped the bread he’d picked up. Everything looked perfectly fine and smelled delicious, but Jason wasn’t convinced. “You mean this food is almost as old as you and me? Are you sure it’s edible?”

“Try it out. This is perfectly safe.” Emily laughed. “I guarantee it.”

“Ladies first,” Jason suggested, but she playfully shook her head.

She laughed even louder when Jason prodded a piece of veal with his fork, sniffed it, then took a tentative nibble. He chewed slowly, waiting for something terrible to happen, then realized she’d been telling the truth. The food was incredible.

Emily didn’t seem hungry at all, though she nibbled at a thing or two in order to convince Jason it was okay. Along with the meal they enjoyed a superb bottle of wine. He smiled to himself, thinking of Evelyn’s words when she’d told him he needed time off work.
“Take a break and go somewhere.”
Well, he’d definitely been somewhere, that was for sure. His mind flashed on the amazing Hall of Refuge. And now Paris? He’d never have considered that, either.

He picked a grape from the bunch and started playing with it, rolling it between his fingers. “When did the gift come to you? The gift of the Sight, I mean.”

Emily sighed. “I would call it a curse rather than a gift,” she said in a somber tone. “Most people acquire it when a tragedy happens to them. A tragedy influencing their whole lives. The false reality—as I usually call the world you know—fades away, and a new one comes out. That’s how I got it.”

“A tragedy?”

She nodded. “Yeah. My parents and grandpa died in a terrible car crash about thirteen years ago. A head-on collision. They were trying to pass a car when they collided with another one in the opposite lane.”

“I’m so sorry,” Jason said, laying his hand over Emily’s.

She flipped her hand so it was palm side up, then squeezed his fingers gently. For a brief instant Jason wondered if she could sense the same warmth and comfort that he felt pulsing through her hand.