The Devourer
Page 45
Reluctant to reduce her contact with Danielle in any way, Mercedes extended a multi-coloured garland to wrap around him, a first step towards to expressing her profound gratitude.
‘It is I who should be grateful,’ he said. ‘You succeeded, your soul intact, despite my many miscalculations. Had I known…’
‘You protected my daughter. That alone outweighs whatever mistakes you may have made.’ Feeling Danielle’s presence nestled inside her aura was nothing short of a miracle. Yet the garland dissipated as her gratitude was overwhelmed by an equally profound sadness. ‘I can only hope you can forgive me for failing to keep my promise.’
‘More important, can you forgive yourself? Sometimes when we attempt to do good, we miss the mark.’ He held up his hand. In his palm lay a gently-pulsating orb that, in another light, may well have been a crystal. ‘You reached him. That is already more than I had dared to hope for.’
Mercedes felt an odd sense of loss as she watched the tiny gem disappear from his hand. ‘I wish I could have done more for him.’
‘No, thank you,’ a dark voice growled, ‘you have done quite enough.’
Her colours danced at the familiar cold touch. Her thoughts jumbled like bouncing marbles, but one was louder than all: ‘You chose!’
‘Evidently,’ M’sieur drawled from across an undeterminable distance.
Grey fog swirled about his feet, as if the world of the living were a river, and he stood on the opposite bank. Mercedes noticed that his coat seemed lighter, more iron grey than black, and he was no longer wet with water and acid.
‘You chose,’ she repeated, marvelling at the changes in him.
‘Insensible not to, given the arguments. It is time to move on. Even the foundations of my haven are about to be demolished.’ A sardonic smirk. ‘Change, it would seem, is inevitable.’
In her mother’s arms, Danielle waved exuberantly at him. He raised a brow.
‘So, this is the girl?’
‘Yes,’ Mercedes said, holding her daughter close. Jean had kept her safe, but without M’sieur’s help… ‘Thank you.’
‘All to your own credit.’ He scoffed, but there was no malice in it. ‘You made a better lure than the boy.’
At her side, the gamin flicked his cap with a knowing grin. M’sieur raised his hand to return the gesture, but was visibly annoyed by his bare head.
‘Monsieur l’inspecteur?’ Jean approached carefully, his golden light restrained but his arm outstretched. ‘Would you like your hat?’
Indeed he held out a black top hat, such as the one Mercedes had seen M’sieur place on the parapet by the river, that night he had first condemned himself a criminal. She wondered at its significance, until she saw flashes of astonished recognition light up M'sieur’s expression.
‘You!’
Jean only smiled. For a long moment, their mutual, silent acknowledgements conveyed a far deeper understanding than Mercedes could begin to comprehend. The spell broke when Jean nodded. Across the threshold, M’sieur put on his hat and touched its brim with a flair of satisfaction.
‘That looks good on you,’ Mercedes said, and then smirked. ‘My apologies. Habit of a lifetime, selling fashion.’
He chuckled, low and dark, and inclined his head. In a glimpse she saw his eyes. They were clear now.
‘Maman?’
Danielle snuggled closer while around them, the sun-laden city began to blend into a cloud of colours. ‘Maman, can we go and visit Antoine? He must be awfully lonely and bored without someone to play with.’
In the growing distance, the tall figure of M’sieur retreated into the foggy shadows of Paris.
‘Of course, ma petite,’ Mercedes said as she watched him dis-appear. ‘That sounds like a very good idea.’
THE END
Mercedes’ Card Reading
Le Petit Jeu de Mlle. LeNormand
The Messenger (news)
The Clovers (good luck)
The Ship (inheritance, voyage)
The House (riches, keeping up appearances)
The Tree (illness or health)
The Clouds (despair or hope)
The Snake (traitor, danger)
The Coffin (death, the end)
The Flowers (good luck, happiness)
The Scythe (evil, finality)
The Birch Rod (illness, disharmony)
The Bird (brief bad luck)
The Child (innocence)
The Fox (mistrust, suspicion)
The Bear (protection, beware of jealousy)
The Star (good luck)
The Stork (change)
The Dog (friendship)
The Tower (bad luck)
The Garden (friendship, might be dangerous)
The Mountain (danger, difficulties)
The Crossroads (decision)
The Mice (loss, thieves)
The Heart (love, happiness)
The Ring (bond, broken)
The Book (hidden knowledge)
The Letter (message)
The Man (the masculine)
The Woman (the feminine)
The Lily (liveliness)
The Sun (energy, vitality)
The Moon (career, honour, glory)
The Key (reply, solution)
The Fish (success)
The Anchor (loyalty)
The Cross (difficulties, sorrow)
Acknowledgements
Every story that makes it to print is the result of a colossal team effort. It may be my name on the cover, but The Devourer would long since have consumed itself if not for the help and support I received along the way. In particular I wish to thank:
Em for proofreading every stage, digging up priceless research on 19th century Paris, and for countless gentle and not-so-gentle prods to keep writing;
Hannah for our endless discussions about characters and plot development, and for teaching me how to read divination cards all those years ago;
Steph for her patience correcting all the faulty idioms, dodgy grammar and countless typos;
Arno, Michael, Karen, and Ale for their invaluable encouragement, suggestions and comments;
vergue.com for curating and sharing so many early photographs of Paris before the Haussmann Renovation, without which Mercedes’ Paris would have been a lot less tangible;
the great Victor Hugo for sparking my interest in the convolution of law, justice and mercy, and for creating the one of the most famous police inspectors in literature.
Finally, I want to express my deepest respect for the mothers and fathers I have met over the years who have suffered the loss of a child. When they shared their story, without exception they said that they managed to bear that grief because “they had no choice”. But there is always a choice, which makes their strength and fortitude all the more laudable.
About The Author
Once upon a time, a little girl named Chris made up her own stories, because the happily-ever-afters of children’s books were too boring. Three decades later, she still writes stories about ancient history and dark secrets, populated by ghosts, monsters, and the demons inside ourselves.
Apart from The Devourer, Chris has published several short stories and poems, as well as the Res Arcana anthology and the Kalbrandt Institute Archives series.
Find her on Facebook and Twitter, or on her website: www.chchelser.com.
Copyright © 2019 by C. H. Chelser, Azera Publishing
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, without prior written permission of the publisher.
Azera Publishing
De Regge 34
Eindhoven, NL5626GZ
www.chchelser.com
Publisher’s Note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Locales, historic events and public names are used solely for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies,
events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental.
Cover design © 2019 Azera Publishing / Photos: Shutterstock.com
Book Layout © 2017 Azera Publishing
The Devourer/ Chris Chelser. – 2nd ed.
ISBN 978-94-92194-27-5