And yet they carry on like they’ve known each other for years.
I raise the bottle to my lips and take another drink of the bitter brew. Henri likes dark ale and while I cannot stand the taste, the fact that he’s allowing me this indulgence is more than enough for me to power through it.
“And what do you know of Henri, then?” I ask, resting the bottle between my legs again. The cool feel of the amber glass is slightly intoxicating and I find myself becoming aroused by it in the oddest way.
“I should be on my way,” he says suddenly as he gets to his feet, his eyes lingering on the bottle between my thighs.
“So soon? But you have not eaten!” I reply quickly. “Sit, Prêtre. Talk with me a moment longer and humor the girl inside of me that craves the conversation she does not get from her husband.”
He looks down at me, his blue eyes clouding over darkly. It’s almost as if he can see my need for his company, but I wonder if he knows why I truly crave his attention. Henri—he feeds my body with his touches and caresses, but he does not know how to properly feed my mind. I used to enjoy our mindless conversations, yet as of late, he speaks only of himself or the things he’s going to do for us. It’s never simple talk anymore and I do not know if I will ever have another chance to speak of mindless things once the priest leaves our home.
“Speak only with your words,” he warns quietly as he sits back down.
I am not confused by his meaning as most would be. When his eyes have found their way to me, I’ve done little things to entice the man inside of him. A drink from the bottle, coupled with my tongue gently licking the rim. Placement between my legs, with my hands slowly running up and down the neck—the way he warns me tells me that he’s not dead from the waist down like I assumed him to be merely because of the frock he adorns.
I sigh loudly, lean back into the chair, and nod. It intrigues me that he seems so immune to my charms and I don’t know if I like him very much anymore. It’s not only because he’s able to turn off the part of him that I know yearns for my touch, but because he reminds me of an innocence I lost so long ago.
Too many years… too many nights spent inebriated in beds of men I did not know have rendered me nothing more than a shell of what I was meant to be.
“Chloe?”
And yet, Henri tries his best to mend the pieces of a shattered girl.
With a chuckle, I get to my feet at the sound of my name and nod at Prêtre Leon before I turn on my heel and leave him on the patio alone. I feel slighted by him but I will not mention it to Henri who will only chastise me for ‘hunting’ without him. He’s told me many times over that one of the very reasons he doesn’t like for me to go out alone is because he knows I will try to entice someone to come back to our home without the proper discretion that is so vital in what we do.
Henri is waiting for me at the back door with a smile on his face. He pushes it open for me to walk into the house and lets it swing shut loudly behind us.
“The roast is on the counter,” he says conversationally, as he holds an arm out in front of him. I look at him curiously for a moment before I nod and walk into the kitchen. There’s no way it could have finished cooking in the fraction of the time I spent outside with Prêtre Leon.
“Is it done?” I ask, glancing at him over my shoulder.
“It’s done enough to my liking,” Henri replies, leaning against the door frame and crossing his arms over his chest.
“Okay,” I say as I begin to move toward the large tray. It’ll take me a fair bit of time to be able to cut through this the way that Henri likes, and I don’t want to keep him waiting.
“Not yet, Chloe. I have to ask you something,” he says softly.
I put my hands firmly on the counter and look at Henri. “Yes?”
“Do you like him?” he asks, moving toward me like a hunter casing their prey. “The priest, I mean. I saw the way your eyes lingered on him. Did you think I wouldn’t notice? Tell me, Chloe—is he to your liking?”
A sour taste greets my lips. Henri has a wild look in his eyes and that does not bode well for the young man outside. Whether it is out of jealousy or a need to control all things, I do not know for sure, but will he believe me if I lie to him when I never have before?
“I only have eyes for you, Henri,” I reply softly.
“Good,” he says with a nod. “Because I will test your resolve tonight. I will make sure that the woman that has pledged her life to me is mine alone.”
With those words, he ends the conversation and comes over to me, taking my face in his hands. He kisses me on the forehead again, before moving his lips down to mine. It’s just a breath of a touch, but it’s enough to soothe any worries inside of me.
Henri loves me.
... doesn’t he?
4
I hate that the meat still runs red with blood but Henri and Prêtre Leon don’t seem to mind it. I sit quietly as they chat between bites of their meals and laugh as merrily as they did outside. The same laughter and conversation that led me to believe that they know each other, even though the Prêtre denies it.
“Isn’t that right, Chloe?”
Henri’s voice breaks me away from my thoughts and it’s at this moment that I realize that I haven’t been listening to a thing they’ve been saying. I sit up a little straighter, put my fork down, and smile brightly at him.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t hear you.”
A tight smile creases his lips. “I was just telling Prêtre Leon that when we found each other, you were too afraid to speak with me at first. It took me a little coercing to get you to even go into the café just to get you out of the rain.”
“Oh yes!” I agree with a laugh. “At that point, I had spent enough nights on the street to know not to speak to strangers, but Henri has always been patient with me; even during that first thirty minutes when I would not acknowledge him.”
He’s lying to him and I don’t understand why. I was never a vagrant and when I met Henri I was in line at the café he speaks of arguing with the barista for getting my order wrong. I still had a few Francs left over at that time, having stolen them from my parents before I left, and even though most of my money went to cheap alcohol and questionable downtown cabarets, I made sure that I would have enough to afford a coffee and a pastry each day.
He stepped in when I grew to a point of frustration that left me slamming my fist on the counter because I did not have additional money to pay for a new order. I always budgeted the money I would spend per day, and if I had to pay to fix the young girl’s mistake, I would not be able to buy a bottle of alcohol later. The girl, near tears, insisted that she could not fill a new order for me unless I paid for it, and my ire reached new heights. I reached across the counter and slapped her in her face—that’s when Henri stepped in.
He paid for my food and reimbursed me the young girl’s mistake. He used his silver tongue to turn the authorities away when they arrived insisting that I had a momentary break in sanity from ravenous hunger and they believed him.
That is how we met. In a moment of anger and violence—not in destitute loneliness.
Prêtre Leon smiles as I speak. He confuses me so much and I’ve only known him for a mere few hours. In front of Henri he’s polite, sociable, and kind. When it was just he and I, he was uncomfortable, commanding, and rigid.
The Prêtre is a mystery; one that I will put more time into figuring out.
5
Henri
Chloe is much too quiet around our guest. She watches him out of the corner of her eye for the most part, though there are moments when I’ve seen her glancing more intently at him. She longs for his touch and I attribute that to her assumption that he’s innocent. She likes virtuous things because she never got the chance to be so herself.
I do not know if her chastity was stolen or if she freely gave it away because I have not asked. I allow her to keep that secret from me for the time being; when she’s ready, she will divulge it to me w
ithout being prompted.
Until she tells me though, I will not speak the words she longs to hear from me. I must know all of her past to fully commit myself to her. Yes, I’ve decided to take her as my bride, but I have my own intentions for doing so which I may or may not reveal when she asks me where I was last night.
Perhaps I’ll make her wait longer as I know how much Chloe loves a good game every now and then.
I sip on my glass of cabernet sauvignon and watch as they speak to each other without words. Their eyes are telling a tale that they assume I cannot decipher, and perhaps I can’t, but I will not let either of them think it so.
I place a hand gently on top of Chloe’s and she smiles at me in return. Her eyes soon find their way back to the Prêtre though, and I know I’ll have to convince him to stay for the evening.
It will be simple enough seeing as though he’s had a glass of wine more than I have, and we still have that little secret of him drinking dark ale. I’m sure there are many things this young man is hiding and I do love to find out what our guests are really like on the inside. I never judge them by the mask of normalcy they wear because it’s never the truth. There’s always a darker layer hidden underneath what’s portrayed, and that is what I find to be the best prize of all. To finally unravel them enough to see what evil lurks beneath the facade—no matter how small it may be.
“Thank you both for a lovely day, a wonderful meal, and the exceptional company you’ve allowed me today. I must get back to the city soon as the sun will be going down within the hour,” Prêtre Leon says, rising to his feet and finishing what’s left of the wine in his glass.
“I can drive you back when the sun goes down; stay a while longer,” I say, waving away his apparent fear of the dark. Is it really a phobia or is just a ruse he’s using to leave us prematurely?
Time will tell.
“Je dois y aller,” he says with a sad smile on his face.
Go? Where? How far does he think I will allow him to run to if he declines my hospitality any further?
“Another time then,” Chloe says, getting to her feet. My hand tightens on hers as I give her a disapproving look that only she can see. “But… um, perhaps dessert first?”
She quickly regains her composure when she realizes that I intend to keep him until the sun rises the next day; once we are done with him, he may go pray his sins away, but not any sooner—not before I say he can.
“I cannot repay the kindness you continue to bestow upon me, and so I will take my leave,” he responds, giving her a tight-lipped smile.
Ahhh. He wants her as much as she wants him. Good.
“Chloe, meet us in the parlour. I have yet to compensate Prêtre Leon for the services he provided us today,” I say to her in an even tone.
She nods and leaves quickly, while the young priest raises a curious eyebrow at me.
“I will accept no compensation, Monsieur de San Martin. I performed the ceremony because it was asked of me.”
“When did we suddenly become so formal? Is it because I address you as Prêtre? Please address me as Henri and may I address you as Leon?” I ask, rising to my feet.
He leans down and picks up his leather Bible and taps it against his side. He eyes me curiously for a moment, before agreeing with a brief nod.
“Now—tell me how much I can give such a wonderful soul for what was done today,” I say, clasping my hands behind my back.
“I will not accept money,” he repeats quietly. “I will be on my way now. Bonsoir, Henri. Please give my regards to your wife.”
“Perhaps a donation to your church, then?” I muse out loud. “Would that be amenable, Leon?”
“Ah… sure,” he finally agrees with a nervous smile. “That would settle any debt that you feel is between us for today, but please understand that it is not necessary.”
“Think nothing of it. Chloe is in charge of the finances between us so I’ll have her write you a check before I drive you back into town later,” I reply with a smirk. “But for now, I think it would be best if we join her in the parlour. If you leave too soon, she’ll feel as if she’s done something wrong and that’s no way for a bride to feel on her wedding day.”
He looks at me unhappily, but his eyes betray him. I can clearly see his want to visit with Chloe again before he leaves. He glances over his shoulder toward the entrance to the parlour and nods.
“After you then, Leon. Let’s sit a little while longer and indulge my bride with talk of your church and perhaps we’ll find a deeper common ground to stand on,” I say with an amused smile on my lips, as I follow closely behind him.
Before this night is over, I will know all the secrets I wish to garner from this young man—and the full intent of my new bride’s secretive glances toward him.
6
Prêtre Leon
I can still remember the first time I saw Mademoiselle Chloe Dubois. She was younger than she is now, but time has not washed away her beauty—nor has the bottle that she spent most of her teenage years suckling on. As I sit down in the largest chair furthest away from both of them, I let my eyes wander toward Henri. I wonder if he knows that his ‘bride’ has a penchant for little white lines of fine powder. Or at least she did when I knew her.
I can feel my anger starting to rise from within and I know that I have to leave soon. I need to make up an excuse that will finally grant me the permission to make my way back to the city, because the longer I sit here, the more I can feel the rage inside of me.
Henri is a man of secrets—that much is well known in the quiet corners of Paris, but he will not be able to bear the brunt of my fury if he wishes to truly know who I am.
“Would you like something else to drink? Tea? Coffee, perhaps?” Chloe asks kindly from where she sits next to Henri. They’re comfortably holding each other, arms loosely draped around the other as they watch me from the love seat, and I know they harbor ill intentions toward me.
So the game begins.
“No. Thank you,” I reply mimicking her kind tone and placing my Bible in my lap. I wipe the sweat from the back of my hands on my robes and wait for the next ruse in their little plot.
“So tell me about yourself, Prêtre Leon,” Henri says, leaning toward the small table in front of them. I watch as he opens a wooden box and removes a pipe, preparing it with tobacco.
“Leon is fine, Monsieur,” I reply quietly. “Uh, I have no story to tell, really.”
A sickly smile etches its way across my face, and I’m pretty sure that I’m grimacing at this point rather than keeping up the façade of the friendly stranger.
My eyes drift toward Chloe again, who’s reaching for Henri’s pipe and puffing a few times, before she hands it back. He chastises her quietly telling her that pipes are not for women, but his gentle kiss on the side of her head calms her sadness almost immediately.
She’s so docile and different now that I almost find it a pity to have to share that secret, should Henri attempt to wrest it from deep inside of me.
Silence.
Nothing but the sound of the ticking clock that sits on the fireplace mantle makes a sound in the room and I clear my throat. I’m becoming increasingly uncomfortable as the two of them sit there, exchanging kisses and nibbles, and I pull at my collar.
“I would like to leave now,” I say quietly. They turn their eyes away from each other and look at me. Henri has a look of sheer amusement dancing in his eyes, while Chloe looks at me in sympathy. She understands my need to get away, but I know she does not remember me, because if she did she would have convinced her lover that I should have been allowed to depart from this fucking place by now.
“You may leave soon,” Henri replies with a nod and a smirk.
I sigh heavily and glance at the door. I wonder what would happen if I used my basic human right to just walk out? Would he follow me? Try to stop me? I may not look like much, but rage does unspeakable things to a man and the longer I sit here the more I can feel it building.
“I just want to know more about you,” he replies simply. “You say you have no story, I say bullshit. Everyone has a story.”
“Jill fell down and Jack came tumbling after,” I say to him quietly, my eyes moving back towards Chloe.
“What?” Henri is looking at me now with confusion on his face as he glances down at Chloe who’s raising an eyebrow at me.
“You want my story? Then I will be allowed to leave, oui?” I ask evenly. Henri leans forward again, intrigue now masking his confusion and nods.
“Do you know what she did to me?” I begin, my voice barely above a whisper. “Your precious bride?”
Chloe sits up and looks at me with anger and hurt in her eyes. “I’ve done nothing to you, Prêtre! I’ve only just met you today.”
A chuckle escapes from somewhere inside of me. It’s the fury that I’ve worked so hard to contain making its way to the surface and I do not know if I will be able to control it one more time.
“Quiet; let the man speak,” Henri snaps at her. He knows there’s more to my being here than his silver tongue when he first entered the church. I’ve known for quite some time that this man has harbored the woman I’ve been searching for, and I met his serpentine words with my own to be sure that I would be allowed to lay eyes on her once again.
“She’s a whore,” I hiss at them. Chloe throws herself against Henri and begins to cry, but he’s far too entranced by what I’ve said to notice or care. Perhaps she’s played the part of the hurt little girl with him before and he’s tired of it. But today, her past actions will come to light and I will tell him the story he wishes to know. I have his full attention now and nothing will change that except for my words.
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