Secrets of the New World (Infini Calendar) (Volume 2) (17 page)

“Thank God!” Frederick added.

Farahilde looked at them. “What happened?”

Jeanne explained, “You were poisoned by Deschanel. Don’t you remember? You lost consciousness and we brought you here for treatment.”

“Oh, yeah. Deschanel—that bitch.” The weroance spoke a few words to her. “Huh? What’s this guy saying?”

“He is glad you have returned to the realm of the living,” Edward translated. The weroance then said something else. “Very soon you will have to fight a crucial battle.”

Farahilde looked at Edward quizzically. She obviously wondered who he was, but she simply said, “Yeah. I have to pay back Deschanel for what she did to me.”

She tried to stand up, but she was still wobbly. Jeanne and Frederick helped her into the other room, where she sat down in front of the hearth.

“Edward, thank you for your help,” Jeanne said.

“Ohhhh, I saved a life! I’ve never felt this good before.”

Jeanne was once again repulsed by the sexual pleasure he seemed to take from helping people, but she held her tongue. “And please tell the weroance ‘thank you’ for us.”

Edward conveyed the message to the Piscataway chief, who by this time had returned to his spot in front of the hearth he had been at when they arrived. He responded to Edward. “He says to look after her for a little longer.”

Jeanne nodded. “Don’t worry; I will.” She suddenly thought of something else. “Can you ask him what he knows about coralite? More specifically, why it only exists on this continent?”

Edward translated for Jeanne, and the weroance responded. “The coralite was not originally present in the earth. One day it simply appeared.”

Jeanne found this to be very perplexing. “It just appeared? When?”

Edward exchanged more words with the chief. “Several hundred years, ago, he says. It coincided with the arrival of the Sky People.”

“Sky People? Who the hell are they?” Farahilde asked.

The weroance explained what he knew. “Centuries ago, his ancestor witnessed a flash of light, and the falling of men from the sky. It was around that time that his people became aware of a new form of energy pulsing beneath the earth. Whether the Sky People brought the coralite, or had simply responded to it, the weroance doesn’t know.”

“Do you think this has something to do with the Gnostagar?” Frederick mused.

“I think it’s quite possible,” Jeanne said. “The Gnostagar are supposed to have come to our world in response to the splitting of time by Jeanen d’Arc. Perhaps the appearance of coralite was a result of that splitting.”

“Who cares,” Farahilde said. “We can’t prove any of this. Coralite exists and it healed me. That’s all I care about. Now come on; we need to get back to the President’s Palace and kick Deschanel’s ass.”

***

Meanwhile, a very different scene was taking place outside the President’s Palace. Leopold stood on the front lawn, watching as smoke poured from the windows. Minutes earlier, he—along with most of the Palace’s staff— had been escorted from the building after a fire broke out on the first floor.

George Washington strode up to him after talking with someone near the entrance. “I do apologize for this, Honored Sir. You are a guest in my house, yet you are forced to stand outside while we deal with a fire.”

“These things happen,” Leopold replied. “But are you not concerned? I understand the fire is quite near to the basement where your Gnostagar stones are.”

Washington nodded. “Indeed it is. But fear not; the fire is being contained, and it shall never reach the basement.”

Leopold said nothing further on the matter, but he was still suspicious. Farahilde being attacked, and now this fire…It couldn’t be coincidence.

An aide came over to them. “Mr. President, the fire has been extinguished.”

“Very good,” Washington said.

“However…we found this among the flames.” He handed a charred object to the American leader. Washington looked aghast at it.

“Dear Lord,” Leopold said.

This could doom them all.

Chapter XII: A Surprising Reception

The President’s Palace, December 13, 1792 (Infini Calendar), 12:00 a.m.

The steam carriage dropped Edward Q. Huffington off at his flat (but not before he creepily thanked them once again for allowing him to be of so much help), and Jeanne and Farahilde returned to the President’s Palace. Frederick, however, insisted on trying to find the doctor who had referred them to the Piscataway. Although Jeanne couldn’t remember his name, Frederick decided to ask around the few places in Washington that were still open if anyone knew where to find him.

However, as soon as they entered the building they could tell something wasn’t right. “Do you smell that?” Jeanne asked.

Farahilde sniffed the air. “Smells like something’s burning.”

“And I’m not sure, but I think I detect a faint smoke in the air.”

Farahilde looked around the foyer. “There’s no one around, fräulein,” she observed.

“I don’t like it,” Jeanne said.

Suddenly, from every door in the foyer burst forth armed guards led by George Washington. They quickly surrounded the two women and leveled their rifles at them.

Washington strode up to Jeanne and Farahilde, his face betraying no emotion. “You don’t like it, Miss Rose? Please forgive my rudeness, but that was precisely my design.”

“What is the meaning of this?” Farahilde growled. President or no, she wasn’t going to stand for this kind of treatment.

Jeanne put a hand on her shoulder. “Please calm down, Farahilde.” She then addressed Washington. “Sir, can you explain this?”

He face remained expressionless, but his tone was stern. “
I
am asking the questions here. For instance—where were you earlier this evening?”

Jeanne faced him without fear, but also without anger. “Sir, with all due respect, you are well aware that with your leave I rushed Farahilde here to the Piscataway camp to obtain treatment for the poison inflicted on her earlier.”

Washington looked at the young Austrian. “You say that she was poisoned and near death, yet here she stands looking perfectly healthy.”

“The coralite healed her,” Jeanne tried to explain.

“Coralite is only used as a power source. It has no healing properties,” Washington countered.

“None that
you
know of, ignorant fool,” Farahilde spat.

 “For the love of God, please show some restraint,” Jeanne whispered to her.

But the fiery Austrian had had enough of restraint. “No! I won’t stand for any more of this bastard’s hypocrisy. He wants us to believe he’s enlightened, but he enslaves his fellow man for being a different color. So with all due respect,
Mr. President
…” She let a lone finger end her sentence.

Washington clenched his fist, the first sign he was truly angered. “You are a guest in my home, Farahilde Johanna. I welcomed you and your entourage with open arms. Yet you reply with deceit, violence, thievery, and now vulgar gestures. You have committed grave crimes on American soil, and you shall be tried for them.”

Jeanne couldn’t believe any of this was happening. “Crimes? What are you talking about?”

Washington cleared his throat. “Consider this the formal charges. Earlier tonight, a fire was started near the basement. Most of the Palace’s defenders were evacuated, though a few stayed behind in case the fire was merely a ruse. As it happened, that was indeed the case. The few guards stationed at the entrance to the basement were slain by unknown assailants. The Gnostagar stones were then stolen.

“Farahilde Johanna, you are officially charged with arson, murder and capital theft. And Mary Rose, you are charged with being complicit to said crimes.”

Jeanne vigorously shook her head. “We weren’t even here! Ask Edward Q. Huffington. He’ll tell you.”

“As if I could trust the word of a degenerate,” Washington said. “Besides which—we have proof Farahilde Johanna was involved in this.”

He reached into his coat and pulled out a black object, a charred glove with two burned blades sticking out of it: Farahilde’s armored gauntlet.

“That’s the gauntlet Deschanel took from me when I boarded her airship.”

“Deschanel? Who is that?” Washington asked.

“The real name of the woman who claims to be Jeanne de Fleur,” Jeanne explained. “She’s the one who poisoned Farahilde.”

Washington’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. “You told me you didn’t know who poisoned her.”

Things were rapidly spinning out of control, Jeanne thought. In order to avoid this very situation, she had lied to the American President, a lie which now threatened to send her to prison and could doom Farahilde entirely. She had no choice but to admit her deception. “I lied.”

“Hmph,” Washington said. “I think perhaps that is not the only lie you told me.”

“What do you mean?”

“A member of the French delegation told me he saw your hair slipping, as if it was a wig. Are you, in fact, wearing false hair?”

“Well…” Jeanne’s mind raced to think of a way out of this predicament, but none was forthcoming.

“I have no desire to be rough with a lady, but I must check to see if you
are
wearing a wig.” To the guards closest to her, he said, “Hold her.”

“Wait!” She said. “Very well.” She pulled off her fake blonde locks, revealing her short-cut auburn hair. She also removed her glasses. “It is true—I am not really Mary Rose. I’m not even American.”

Washington sighed. It was clear he had been hoping this to not be the case. “So Jeanne de Fleur’s suspicions were correct; you
are
an Austrian spy.”

“
I’m
Jeanne de Fleur! That other woman is an imposter.

“Enough lies,” Washington said. He sounded very tired. To the guards he said, “Take them away.”

“Doesn’t look like we can reason with this fool,” Farahilde said.

Jeanne took a deep breath to calm herself. “No, it doesn’t.”

“You know what that means, right?”

“I’m afraid I do.” They didn’t have time to be arrested. If Deschanel and her lackeys had in fact stolen the Gnostagar stones, they could leave with them at any time aboard the
Minuit Solaire II
. If that happened, Jeanne and Farahilde might never be able to prove their innocence.

One of the men leveled his rifle at Farahilde’s head. “Turn around.”

She did so, and Washington said, “These men will escort you to the city jail that lies east of here, and every one of them will see to it you do not escape before your trial.”

Farahilde was nudged in the back by the butt of a rifle. That was, in fact, a mistake; it told her how close the rifle was, and how high it was being held.

She took a step forward, and then, faster than the guard’s eyes could follow, abruptly pivoted, ducked and charged in under the rifle. Before the man could register surprise, she grabbed the underside of the barrel and slammed it into his face.