Anastasius and Aveline Statford
October 1974
* * *
His eyes locked on the second name.
Aveline.
Thomas's mother.
"No. No, that's some Dickensian shit..."
It didn't surprise him one bit that Ahimoth was a false name. But if Anastasius was his real one...
That made him and Thomas half-brothers.
It meant Luc was a Statford.
Unless...
You know, your mother wanted to name you Agnes. If you were a girl. She was so certain you were a girl.
Insidia's words came back to him. Another taunting riddle. Was Aveline his mother? Had she wanted to name him Agnes? Had she been so certain he was a girl because she already had Thomas, her son? But then why had he been a John Doe in France?
No, that couldn't be it. She wasn't his mother. Half-brothers. Anastasius, or Ahimoth, or Benoît Semeur, or whatever is name was, had gotten around. He'd knocked up some girl in France and left her to die giving birth to Luc.
It made him sick to his stomach.
"Medical help is coming," Ines said, holding up the burner phone. "Guild help."
Luc nodded absently, his eyes still locked on the writing on the back of the first photo. He had to look at the rest. What if there was a photo of him?
The second photo wasn't actually a proper photograph print. The edges were uneven, though soft with age, but not in the same way as the first portrait. Only when he looked at the back and saw another photo that had been cut through did he realize he was holding a picture snipped from a directory. A school yearbook, probably.
The preteen boy could only be Tom. The grin was the same, though the eyes were innocent in a way he never suspected Thomas's eyes could be.
Swallowing, Luc looked at the third photo. It was even older than the first one, in black and white so faded it was hard to make out. Two boys stood side-by-side, arms around each other's shoulders. The background was completely washed out. The boys' hair matched, close-cropped and dark, and their outfits were identical as well.
So were their smiling faces. Luc didn't like how he recognized the tilt to the mouth as his own.
Names were written on the back of this photo.
* * *
Anastasius & Ahimoth, Sicily 1951
* * *
Twins.
Ahimoth was a twin. And it was his real name.
Luc let his eyes travel again over the corpse. Was that even Ahimoth, then? Or was it Anastasius? The other photos in the wallet suggested it was Anastasius.
It was Tom's father.
Tom. Not his half-brother.
His cousin.
If his guesses were true, that was. He'd just killed his uncle. Aveline's husband.
"Merde..."
Luc was entirely unaware of the rap on the door, the sudden activity in the room as a pair of assassins and a Guild medic appeared. Luc must have stood and walked, at least a short distance, because he found himself in the back seat of a car with someone cutting his shirt off him.
"Júlio Carlos Ramirez, Order of Release," the man said in heavily accented English.
Luc nodded, unable to find his voice to return the introduction. He did manage a hiss as Júlio administered some sort of first aid to his wound. A moment later, his voice did come. "Ines?"
"In front car," Júlio said. "With medica. She needs more than you."
Luc stammered a "Gracias," which elicited a wry smile from Júlio. The Portuguese version of thank you must have been a different word. Close enough.
Ines was going to be all right. She was with the medic. She would live. He hadn't been too late.
He didn't ask where the body was. The assassins wouldn't have left it behind, though. Only faintly did Luc wonder if or how the local guildhall would cover up the obvious assault that had taken place in the hotel room.
It was his uncle he'd killed. His father was still out there. Whatever sources Scout had used to track Ahimoth had found his twin instead.
Ahimoth was still at large.
This wasn't over.
It was an hour and a fitful nap later when Luc and his escort arrived at the guildhall in Teresina. Júlio had apparently somehow administered a blood transfusion to Luc while they were in transit, and he was feeling surprisingly good as a result. He didn't bother to ask where the blood had come from or how much medical training the other assassin had. The sun was coming up, but the day felt shadowed and bitter.
Mercifully, once Luc was settled into a bed, he was left alone. Then again, it appeared as though the entire remaining compliment of the guildhall had been the ones who came to get him and Ines. Two assassins, the medic, and two drivers. The drivers, he assumed, made up another assassin and an administrator. He dismissed concern over them as soon as he thought of them.
But Ines wouldn't get out of his mind. He had, once more, let his need for answers and vengeance get someone else hurt.
He may not have been too late, though. She might survive.
More than he cared to admit, he needed her to live.
There was a short interruption as the guild medic came to tend to him. The woman looked exhausted, but she responded positively when Luc asked about Ines. The language barrier was there, but Luc was fairly certain they understood one another. Ines would recover. Luc couldn't make out enough of the medic's slow Portuguese to get her prognosis--if Ines would make a full recovery or not--but he hadn't gotten her killed. That was a blessing.
Luc's injuries were treated with quiet, serious efficiency. The medic was detached, and Luc could once again only guess at her instructions. Part of him wondered why she didn't find someone to translate, but it didn't take much thought to come up with a couple reasons.
One, he was an assassin. One of their family. He was in this business, and injuries happened. An assassin didn't make it into his late thirties without sustaining a few near-mortal wounds. He should know how to take care of himself already.
Two, he wouldn't be here long. There was a sort of chill wall between him and his brothers and sisters who lived here. He wasn't welcome. Not after getting Ines injured. They would care for him, but as soon as he could travel, he would be politely but firmly bid farewell.
Júlio brought a meal a few minutes after the medic left. The assassin didn't stay to chat. Luc had already gotten the hint, but that clenched it.
Fishing his phone from his pocket, he called his admin office. It took more rings than it should have for him to get an answer.
"Betty Ferriby."
"Betty, it's Luc."
"Oh! Hi!" She interrupted herself with a yawn. "How is Brazil?"
"I need to arrange my return. And a body."
Her pause was only a fraction of a second long. "I'll take care of that. Where are you?"
A few minutes later, Betty claimed she had all the information she needed and would email him his travel itinerary. Luc had barely hung up when his phone rang.
It was Aveline Statford.
The woman certainly seemed to know everything, but she couldn't know he'd killed Anastasius. Not already.
Against his better judgement, he answered the phone.
"Oui?"
"He's back."
Luc furrowed his brows. He'd only heard Aveline--his aunt, he told himself--sound so frantic one time before, when Thomas had disappeared.
"What?"
"Tommy. Tommy is back."
Luc's eyes went out of focus. "He is?"
"Where are you?"
Luc didn't answer. "Where is he?"
"Home. Moving."
"You're not with him?"
Her voice stiffened. "I'm away on business." She paused. "Why are you in Brazil?"
"How do you know where I am?"
"Never mind. Get back to Virginia. I'll be there as soon as I can."
She hung up before he could figure out just how she had eyes on him, much less mention he'd just killed her husband. That was probably for t
he best. It wasn't the sort of thing you reveal to someone over the phone.
Neither was the fact that you knew you were someone's nephew. Or cousin.
His phone lit up with an email notification. That would be his travel info. He had to get home to Whitney.
To Thomas.
It was going to be an interesting return to Virginia. An interesting reunion.
With his cousin.
The world had transformed in the last two years. As had Luc. And wherever Thomas had been, he'd surely changed, as well.
Luc's life was tied more closely to Statford's than he'd ever expected. Knowing that the divine was real, that even the God he'd believed in as a child was out there, had flipped Luc's outlook on what was possible.
This might be some Dickensian shit, but it was real.
He would have to stay close to Thomas going forward. He didn't know how, but he knew that it would be the modern-day Lazarus of Thomas Statford who would lead him to the rest of his answers.
Afterword- A Note from A. F. Grappin
This, believe it or not, is the end of the Deadly Studies.
"But A. F.! You've left so many dangling ends!" You say.
And you know what? Yes. I did. I did it on purpose. Luc Bertrand's solitary story ends here. But with the final event of the Deadly Studies— Tom's return— Luc can no longer focus solely on himself. There is more of Luc's life that has to occur. His feud with the Templars is not over. Esme is still out there. He has his own father to get back at. Whitney is his daughter now, and he's not giving her up for anything.
More importantly, he has Tom back.
So Luc's story continues, but not by my pen. I aimed pretty early on to have Luc's story end when Tom returned after the Fall. I only got to borrow him from John G. Walker (fabulous guy, by the way.) I had Luc for almost 4 years. It's time to give him back.
If you want to see how Luc finally gets his storyline resolved, you'll need to look in The Statford Chronicles. I've discussed a lot of what happens after Assassin's Kin with John. He knows. I hope that some of what I've given you puts insight into some of the post-Fall Chronicles, at least where Luc is concerned. You now know something about Luc and Tom that Tom doesn't know. And, at least as of when this book is released, the Chronicles doesn't reveal.
There are hints to Luc's continued life away from Thomas in the books already out. Luc's absence from the D&D session, for example.
Am I finished with Luc? I say yes, other than consulting with John in the future. John, of course, says I'm not done. And who knows? He may be right. There could be short stories in the future featuring him.
But for now, I'm going to sign off on his story.
The last few years have been hectic, exciting, and more stressful than I care to admit. But I could not be more pleased that these books exist.
So, for now, and maybe for all time where Luc is concerned, adieu.
~A. F. Grappin, Order of Balance, September 2019
A F Grappin
A.F. Grappin is the author of The Deadly Studies, Starsigns, Criminal from Birth, and more. A.F. also records and produces The Melting Potcast, a writing variety show. When not writing, A.F. runs, voice acts, reads, and makes chainmail art and jewelry as The Chain Nerd.
Luc Bertrand- American Assassin Page 30