Redemption (15 page)

“Cold?”

He shook his head. “No, not cold. You have these walls around you … but I think I’m starting to understand why she felt the way she did for you.” His tone cracked a bit.

I looked at him, this centuries-old man who was usually found in the guise of an eleven-year-old boy, though not by his own choice. In a way, we were all trapped, but Vincent had it worse than us.

“Why now, after all these years?” he asked me.

I shrugged, considering what to answer. I didn’t really know the reasons myself. I said the only truth I knew.

“I made a promise to myself that I would share this with you, that it was the least I could do after everything.”

It was his turn to nod and we resumed our silence until I couldn’t bear it anymore.

“How did you handle it?” I didn’t need to say more, he knew exactly what I meant.

“I have to be honest with you. It was difficult, one of the toughest things I ever had to deal with.”

I tried to remember how Vincent had been before he had chosen to grow old with Marie, the young witch we had been guarding at the time. But it was hard to put a finger on exactly how he’d changed. Especially now that he had physically returned to his younger form. The differences were subtle but very much there. He had been more like the rest of us back then, not only stuck in body but stuck in other ways too. He matured during those sixty-five years with her. He surpassed us all in experience, and yet physically he was once again what he’d been before. Even we, who knew better, often judged him on appearance, even we forgot that this eleven-year-old body had seen more, felt more, and done more than we had. Maybe than we ever would.

I was so lost in my own thoughts I had forgotten that I was waiting for him to continue.

“There were reasons to keep going, though. We had a purpose, and this purpose became even more important to me. I became personally vested in it.”

“But then Marguerite died three years later … ” I whispered to him, leaving out my guilt in the matter.

He looked at me and his eyes danced as the overhead lights reflected in the dampness.

“I thought I would die then … I really wanted to if only we hadn’t been turned into stone … but her mom was still alive. Alice took care of us, made sure we would be put back up in our tower … she was someone to watch out for, for a while. She visited us, which made it easier … I still had a hold in the world.” He paused.

I remembered his reaction when his daughter Alice had last visited. She had a small baby with her, a baby she would have been babysitting. Vincent hadn’t been graceful that time, he screamed out his pain the only way he could, using our mental voice. It was too close of a reminder, a reminder of Alice as a baby and of her daughter Marguerite.

He sighed and something told me he was remembering the same thing I was. A quick glance around the room showed the other two pretending to be busy, but attentively listening to our conversation.

“When Alice visited, it made things easier, but she’s gone now. It isn’t true what they say about time healing … but time does make it better. And time is something you and I have a lot of, brother.”

“Thanks, Vincent.” I wasn’t sure what I was thanking him for but I knew I meant it. I felt very grateful to him for what he shared. I stood up, and this time I did leave the room. I needed some time alone.

23

Guillaume

I needed to clear my head, so I went for a walk. I took detours and walked through small streets; I was lost in thoughts of the past and the older, unchanging neighborhoods suited my mood.

I loved seeing the juxtaposition of old and new that inhabited every corner of Montreal. Our city, like us, was a mixture of old and new. Adapting to modern times in some ways and clinging to the old in others. I, perhaps, clung to the past more than the others.

I was going down one of the small side streets when I felt something familiar. It was an old power. I scanned my surroundings but saw nothing. I continued to walk hesitatingly and felt it again like the dull sting of a rubber band loosely snapping against my skin. I focused on the direction the sensation came from and reached out with my core to find the essence. A sickly, murky gray thread of life energy surrounded an old man. He walked slowly toward me, his movements slow, his eyes void. Emerging from the shadows were three younger men. The same men who had attacked Aude the night we were freed.

A jolt of recognition hit me. Aude’s attackers were not the only men I knew. I was also well acquainted with the old man. I knew him from at least two separate incidents, incidents I had not put together until then. He was different than the first time I had met him, more red mud and stone and less man. His essence was weaker, but there was no denying he was the same man, the man who had attacked me and nearly killed me. The reason Marguerite died.

The last time I saw him, though, was in an alley, when he’d attacked Aude.

“What do you want with Aude?” I yelled.

The creature let out a dry cackling sound that was supposed to be a laugh.

“Who is Aude?
” he asked. I’d thought hearing the others in my head for the first time after decades was a strange experience, but this went beyond. His words felt like they forced themselves into my mind, clawing with sharp nails to the front of my attention.

“Aude is the girl you attacked in the alley. I don’t know what happened or how she got away.”

He
laughed
again, and I felt shivers climb up my arms.

“Aude is a very interesting girl.”
My head felt like it would be ripped apart by his words.

“What do you want with her?”

“Probably the same thing you do.”

While I held my head between my hands, he lunged for me. Though I was weaker than I had been last time he’d challenged me, so was he. I concentrated within and gathered my essence, and held the power tight, controlling it and manipulating it until I changed into my strongest form, the flesh version of my stone one. Grotesque and reptile-like, I flew back at him, and swiped with my knifelike claws.

The men who backed him blinked in horror. Their eyes seemed almost human again, though still not quite right and they fled the scene without as much as a glance backwards.

The old man formed a fist of stone and punched me in the side. I landed against a brick wall with a loud thud. I reached further within myself and trickled a little more essence into my firm hold. He walked slowly toward me and I jumped back to an upright position and ran toward him again, but though he was nowhere near defeat, he ran away. I started giving chase but he disappeared on a busy street. I lost him. He didn’t have a scent to follow.

I realized how much energy I had already used up in this form, our most difficult one. Unlike our stagnant stone form or our human one, the flesh gargoyle was completely unnatural to our being. I released the large amount of essence I kept tightly balled up in my chest, allowing it to flow back into me where it could sit unused, and I quickly turned to stone. I reached for it again, grabbed the right amount for my human form, and hurried toward the nearest parked car I could find, inconvenienced by the fact that I was once again naked.

Luckily a search of the car had uncovered some clothing; this wasn’t always the case. The confrontation with the stone man and its relation to Marguerite brought me to the realization that I could no longer keep the details of Marguerite’s death to myself. I hadn’t been dishonest with my family—I simply hadn’t told them everything. I had told them almost nothing.

Garnier should be the first to know.

When I returned to the apartment, he was right where I had left them. All three of them were lost in their individual research.

“I need to talk to you,” I told Garnier with a lump in my throat.

We walked out to the roof where I stood, looking out over the streets. Garnier didn’t speak. We stood like that for a long time, but finally I had to get it out.

“The stone monster didn’t kill Marguerite,” I croaked out finally.

Garnier turned toward me as if in slow motion. His eyes were overflowing with questions. His lips were white from pressing them tightly together. I wanted to tell him to never mind, but it was too late, I had gone too far.

“It was me that the stone monster killed … well, almost killed.”

Garnier took a step forward but stopped. He didn’t understand the implications.

“It caught me by surprise, he was strong then.” I touched my chest, my perfectly healed chest that still caused me pain when I remembered the way it had been ripped apart. I relived the memories as I recounted the story to him.

“Marguerite loved the sight of the moon reflected on the water. I had brought her to Mercier Bridge where we walked the narrow sidewalk to the middle of the bridge. There, we leaned against the railing, our hands clasped together, our shoulders touching.”

I no longer spoke for Garnier, or I might have censored myself more, instead I had allowed the memories to speak for me.

“The bridge had been deserted at that time of night, and we stayed there in silence. We watched water rushing below us. We spoke of small things and important things. We spoke of love and the future, though it strikes me now that we had no idea what we were talking about. I asked her if she loved me and she never even hesitated before she said yes. She shouldn’t have been so ready to love me. I never deserved her.” I sighed.

Garnier’s face was pale.

“No matter how often I relive the scene in my head, I can’t figure out where he came from, this monster of stone, but in the end, it is inconsequential. He could very well have simply walked up to us. We were too absorbed by each other to notice him. When I did see him, he acted too fast for me. I don’t even know how it happened that I found myself on the ground. I heard my own wailing before I even felt the pain. I clutched at my chest. Marguerite screamed as well, a high-pitched scream that still reverberates in my ears when I try to sleep at night.” I took a few steps away from Garnier, then paced back to where he stood. Hardly moving.

“I don’t know what the stone creature heard in Marguerite’s scream after I was knocked down, but it fled. Just like it has fled from me the last two times I have encountered it. The coward.” I balled my fists and released them.

“Marguerite’s eyes filled with warmth when she stared into mine that one last time. I didn’t immediately understand what she was going to do. She whispered to me that she would use her essence to heal me. I tried to argue with her. But she wouldn’t listen. I should have insisted.”

Garnier shook his head. “I don’t understand, how could she possibly have enough essence to revive one of us? It’s not like saving a human’s life.”

“She had been studying with a shaman. They not only use their essence to heal, but they can take essence from plants and creatures. Marguerite had a theory that she could take it from others.”

“From others?”

“Don’t you understand, Garnier? She didn’t only use her own essence; she took it from you guys too. This is why you’ve all been trapped in stone form.”

“What about you?” His head jerked up in accusation.

“She barely had enough to revive me, not enough to turn me into human form.”

Garnier’s eyes were on mine. “How did she die?” He knew what the two possibilities were. He knew what
happens when a witch transfers that much essence into someone or something else. How could I say the words aloud? But I had to.

When we are drained of essence, we turn to stone; our spirits have been fixed to stone and can’t go anywhere. A human doesn’t have that anchor. To drain them of essence is to drain them of spirit.

“Marguerite could have died if she had transferred everything into me, but she held back, and in the end, it made it worse. You know what happens … her spirit was gone. I watched her struggle with the despair and I couldn’t do anything but watch.”

I’m always watching.

“When she whispered something in my ear, I couldn’t even understand it through all her tears. I missed her last words to me. Then, she climbed up on the railing on the bridge. She looked at me, one last time.” I took a deep breath. A hole threatened to rip itself into my chest.

“She ripped a ring from a chain tied around her neck, and threw it to the ground near me. She jumped. No drama. She simply jumped into the fast-moving rapids … and to her death.”

“Thanks for telling me,” Garnier said. He walked away.

“Wait, I’m sorry. I failed in so many ways.”

He shrugged and jumped off the roof, and though I knew this was not a dangerous thing for him, it mimicked what I had last seen of Marguerite and my throat constricted at the sight.

24

Aude

I pay special attention to my appearance while getting ready for band practice, and I know it’s because Guillaume has insisted on coming along. He’s going there to see me practice being a punk rock superstar. I should at least make an effort to look the part.

A knock shakes my flimsy door and I tell Mom to come in.

“What’s wrong?”