Blue Moon Rising (The Patroness)
Read Blue Moon Rising (The Patroness) Online
Authors: Natalie Herzer
Blue Moon Rising
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y
Natalie Herzer
“Blue Moon Rising”
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Natalie Herzer
Copyright © 2012 by Natalie Herzer
All Rights Reserved
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Cover Art by Natalie Herzer
eBooks by Natalie Herzer
Snapshots – A Collection of Short Stories
*
The Patroness Novels
Blue Moon Rising
The Hunt is On
*
Paris, Roman Gaul
451 AD
She knew that they were coming; she had seen them in her dreams. The veil of tomorrow’s early mists would be ripped through by the terrifying and countless troops of Huns, hooves thundering, patches of grass and brown earth flying. She had seen
their barbarous leader Attila
riding ahead of the endless rows of fierce warriors
,
fearless and confident of victory
.
He couldn’t know that a simple woman was going to do everything in her power to prevent him from taking Paris.
Her breath clouded in front of her mouth, and she felt cold and alone, so cold and alone without her Arthur at her side. She had been his wife and queen but now he was dead and everything had changed, even her name. Guinevere had to die with him, henceforth she was Geneviève. Hot and silent tears were running down her cheeks. Useless tears since Geneviève had to be strong, for she carried their unborn child under her grieving heart. Geneviève had to be strong for the city she called her home now.
Pushing away the sad thoughts her eyes searched the growing darkness beyond the city’s stone walls as she gently laid a hand on her lightly swollen belly. Then she turned to the men and women gathered on the square below, illuminated by the flickering light of torches. There were less and less of them as the Western Roman Empire was weakening, and invasions and wars loomed inevitably on the horizon. However, no one paid attention to her. The people’s eyes were fixed upon the males, the rulers of their town, for guidance and hope they couldn’t give. She had warned them of what was to come but no one had listened to her
–
until
wor
d had come from burning cities
and with it the fear.
Something must be done, we cannot let them take our city, Geneviève thought. She looked at the crowd, saw women crying and clutching their children to their chests. Taking a deep breath, she raised her voice to break the heavy silence, “The Lord can save us!”
Everyone looked up at her words and she took a step forward so they could see her. With more confidence, she summoned all her courage and continued, “Aye, the Huns are coming but the Lord showed me the way to save our homes. We must have faith, we must pray and he will help us. To arms, brothers and sisters! Men defend the city, women pray with me. Together we can save our families! Together we can save our home! And together we will save Paris!”
Geneviève began to pray, at the top of her voice. Some women followed suit, some men started to throw small stones at her. But she only paid attention to the first group, and concentrated on what she’d been told to do. Feeling the nightly breeze and its dewiness on her skin; smelling the cool, earthy air with the scent of burning torches mixed into it; sensing the eyes and hearts of the people around her, even
of
those that feared to trust; flying towards her on a ray of hope, she felt the rightness of her doing. As a magically peaceful and warm light spread through her body and into her every bone, enveloping her in a golden glow, more and more voices joined and were carried by a bellowing wind uniting them in a strong and loud chorus of prayer. Time ceased to exist as they stood together as one throughout the night.
And
in the early morning
Attila’s barbarian army emerged from the mists - and thundered on, to be soon completely out of sight again.
They had won. The people cheered in a burst of new-found joy of life and started celebrating. Only Geneviève kept staring into the distance, not really seeing the first golden rays of sunlight touching the fields, mourning her lost love instead.
Later in the following evening she lay in her bed thinking about the future. She’d been
given the keys to the city and therefore
had become the first Patroness of Paris. The weight of responsibility
that went with it she accepted
and the new sense of purpose she welcomed. More confident than she had been in months, Geneviève prayed that she was equal to the task, and she promised to do and give everything in her power to ensure the town’s safety.
It was her mission.
Paris, France
26th August, 2012
It could have been such an ordinary, balmy Friday evening – but not for me. With a sigh I walked closer to the heap on the street that was partially illuminated by a street lamp, already sensing trouble. There was blood, and the bizarre form turned out to be a shredded-to-pieces body lying in an awkward angle on the cobbled alleyway. The victim was human, a young female. Her killer was a shapeshifter, probably gone rogue. Sure I wasn’t one of them and couldn’t tell it by scent or anything but the small strands of gray fur here and there and the open stomach made it seem obvious. To top it all off, the police station was right around the corner and the last thing I needed was a long discussion with some smart-ass officer as to my presence on a murder scene – again. Way to go
, Maiwenn
. I really knew how to pick them.
I looked the small and narrow alley up and d
own. It was calm here, no cafés;
but only a few meters away, turning into the next street, the nightlife was buzzing with people celebrating the weekend. Most humans were ignorant and repressed any unexplainable stuff that would make
their world tremble
,
but I preferred to be better safe than sorry. I began to chant, repeatin
g the same phrase over and over
so that it would divert the eyes of passersby. Although I was a witch – okay, okay only half – I couldn’t do a lot more in this case. I didn’t have the time for something fancy. And so I just grabbed my cell and began taking pictures of the crime scene; first of the surroundings, mostly modest apartment buildings lying in the dark and where only a few windows were still lit-up, and then of the body. I knelt down and took a closer look on the wounds; deep claw marks and pieces of flesh ripped out. Yep, definitely shapeshifter. And he would be punished for his acts - with death.
When I was finished, I got up
murmuring a prayer for the young girl whose life had ended too early and in too brutally a way. Then I pulled a little bottle out of the pockets of my leather jacket and poured the contents over the body. I would never get used to the horrible noise created by the acid burning through flesh and bones but I didn’t have a choice. Even humans were only ignorant up to a certain extent.
After I cleaned the scene I moved on. I would find the bastard who had done this to her, but for tonight my patrol was done. Soon I would lose the cover of darkness, so I headed home.
Home was a comfy apartment located on the upper floor of
an old six-story building near
Place de la Bastille in the east of Paris. I punched in the code for the security door, g
ot the mail and headed upstairs
,
enjoying the scent of the old wooden stairs. On the fifth floor a door opened with a soft creak and Viviane, not only my relying neighbor but also my tutor and friend, appeared in the doorway. She was fifty-some, still good in shape and had short auburn hair showing streaks of white.
“Bonsoir Viviane!” I greeted her, kissing her on each cheek, and breathed in her familiar scent of Chanel No.5. I was surprised to see her up at this late, or rather early, hour. It was almost five.
Viviane looked me over with worry showing in her warm hazel eyes as she searched for wounds.
“I’m fine, really,” I assured her and the tension showing in her slim shoulders released a little but not entirely, telling me there was more.
“I’ve been waiting for you to come home. I need to talk to you, Maiwenn.” Her voice, like whiskey, rolled through the dark silence of the stairwell.
I frowned, wondering what was wrong, but nodded. We climbed the last steps together and went into my apartment. I closed the door behind her, took off my boots and went into the kitchen where I put my keys on the big counter, which served as a table and roughly divided the room, and made us some tea. The kitchen and the living room were actually one spacious room painted in a color Vivian
e called apricot. I watched Viv
sit down in one of the blood red comfy armchairs and
heard her
sigh as she looked out
the big double-casement windows
offering a breathtaking view over a sea of roofs and little, round chimneys.
“Ah, I’ve always loved this view. Paris, the City of Light. When I see this, I understand again why we risk our lives each and every single night.”
I carried our two steaming mugs on a tray to the little table standing in front of her, took one for me to warm my hands and set on the couch facing her, tucking my legs up. The scent of strawberry and raspberry filled the air as I waited for her to tell me what worried her. Sooner or later she would, Viviane had her own time.
“We’re broke.”
I just stared at her, probably catching flies with my mouth since that revelation came rather unexpected. “How’s that even possible?” I finally got out.
“You remember the crisis a couple of years ago? Well, the patronesses, so actually we, mostly invested in stocks. It was good…but after the crisis, it went downhill. I thought we could manage it. But now I have to admit that it was foolish of me, I should have told you right away. So…”
“We’re broke
,” I whispered
still trying to wrap my mind around that one.
Then Viviane leaned forw
ard, the light back in her
hazel eyes and a shadow of a smile pulling at her lips. “But I have an idea how we could fix this. You should rent the other rooms. You don’t use the space here anyway. You could get yourself some company and some money. Two birds with one stone, darling. And maybe we could reconstruct the first floor, turning the space beside your office into stores or something like that. What do you think?”
I thought about
it. I couldn’t work more hours
since I already had a full-time job – two actually – so the money had to come in from somewhere else. “Reconstructing the first floor is a good idea. It will take some time and money but given the high demand for space in this city, in the end, it might work out. But roommates, Viviane? With my line of work?”