by P. M. Briede
I felt bad that the position in the White House was no longer something Wesley coveted but now a condition for my survival. He’d worked so hard and this entire campaign had soured him against the one thing he loved to do, politics. “That’s something to be proud of, Wesley. Facere quae oportet fieri.” Do what must be done. “I have faith that with the right team you’ll be able to right the wrongs of the world.” Both the human and angelic world. Olivier hadn’t said a word the entire call, probably because with the faster mind and better eyesight his job had been to pick up whatever clues there were to harvest while Wesley prolonged the conversation. Hopefully, I’d been able to make their task somewhat easier. I looked directly in Olivier’s eyes. “Te amo. Necantrum.” I love you. Don’t cave. Then turned to Wesley, “Take care of yourself.” Then I handed the phone back to Celinda. “I’m tired, sister. Is it alright if I lie down?”
With a pat on my shoulder Celinda stood while taking the phone so I could stretch out on the bed. I really was tired. My stomach had been in knots the whole time and I still wasn’t one hundred percent convinced she bought my acting. There was no other information to give to Olivier and Wesley and nothing I’d be able to ask. So it was better to bring a close to this interlude and see what the aftermath held. When Celinda put the phone to her ear I figured she’d taken them off speaker. “Satisfied, gentlemen? … Good. Wesley, I expect him to be dead before the end of the week.” Dead?! Who?! Oh my God! Could it be Alexander?! My mind started racing and the unshed tears burned my eyes. That had been what she’d wanted from Wesley, for him to murder someone?!
No longer sleepy, I intended to try and figure out who Celinda had just ordered killed. I didn’t get the chance because no sooner had she ended the call then she quit the room. I waited and waited for the sandmen but they never came. The tears that had built up in my eyes though, fell. How was Wesley going to do such a thing? What was going to happen when he couldn’t do such a thing? He’d do it too if he thought it would protect me. I just hoped that Olivier was able to keep him from it.
I hanged onto the hope of Olivier keeping Wesley from committing homicide for the next few days. No longer medically sedated I was able to keep up with the time from the shadows in the hallway when I’d peek through the blinds or the mail slot. I started an exercise regimen to work out my ill-used muscles. Meals also began appearing regularly a few times a day, delivered by the sandmen. The one who had previously administered my shots always stood sentry at the door with what looked like a police baton. The other, who’d glimpsed at me after my beating with sympathetic eyes no longer showed any emotion but was always the one to deliver and remove my tray of food.
Celinda’s command had been for Wesley to hold up his end of the bargain, now that proof of life had been provided, before the end of the week. Having no idea what day that order had been issued, I grew concerned over his well-being as the days passed and I didn’t see her. At last she returned and she looked to be fuming. But before she could utter a word, my skin grew hot and turned green. She knew what that meant. I knew what it meant. Celinda’s eyes actually bulged as her jaw started working furiously yet no words came out. Well, not that I heard anyway. Consumed by a searing pain I’d hoped to never experience again, I passed out after my head hit the rail to the bed.
Chapter 14
“Olivier, we need to talk.” His already sagging shoulders slumped further. This was not a conversation either of us was looking forward to. But if you ever look forward to breaking someone’s heart, then I don’t even want to know the kind of person you are.
“Is there any way we could just continue as we’ve been and not have this conversation?” I followed his disheartened voice further into the house. In that moment, I really wished that we could. Yet, as hard as it was going to be to say it and for Olivier to hear it, it had to be done. I was so depressed about having to tell him that I glued my eyes to the floor. “You’ve picked Breaux.” Olivier’s words were shocking and I ended up running into his back. When I tried to scoot away I tripped on the hem of my dress and fell. He spun around when I hit the floor and knelt beside me. “Are you okay?” Olivier tenderly asked.
I looked into his eyes and wished that for once I could read the emotions behind them. They weren’t closed off to me. I could see the disappointment and the heartache but there was more there and I wanted to know so I knew what to say. Whatever I said wouldn’t make anything better now, but I hoped it would over time. Especially since, I still had to live with Olivier. “You’re asking me if I’m okay,” I finally got up the courage to begin. “You said the most difficult words you’d probably ever have to hear so I wouldn’t. Both should have been my line. Are you okay?”
His hand cupped the back of my head and pulled it against his shoulder before kissing the top. “As well as can be expected, I guess,” Olivier admitted. “I’ll always love you. That’ll never change and a part of me always knew the only reason you’d turned to me was because the whelp had foolishly spurned your love. Without the betrayal, I’ve watched your heart heal and return to him. I’m grateful it took as long as it did for you to recognize it.”
“It’s not that, Olivier,” I broke in with a small voice. “I loved you. I love you still.” He couldn’t think he’d just been a filler. That’s not what he’d been at all.
“I know, Charlotte, just not more than Breaux.” Angry with myself because I absolutely didn’t have the right to cry at this precise instant, I pulled away and wiped my eyes with the back of my hands. I had to stop. “Carissime, stop. I’m sad. I’m hurt. I’m brokenhearted. But I’m not mad and I don’t blame you.”
“You should!” I spat in frustration. “But it’s alright if you don’t. I blame myself. I’m mad at myself. I was never over Wesley and it was never fair to get involved with you.” Why couldn’t I stop crying! I pushed myself away from Olivier and tried to stand but kept getting caught in the folds of my dress. “DAMN IT!” I railed as I punched the wall. “Son of a bitch!” What had I been thinking? That hurt!
Olivier’s laughter pulled my eyes back to him. My eyes screamed, “What?” Then the fact that I had the audacity to get frustrated by his reaction vexed me even more. Could the days get anymore mad cap? The weight of the world had been lifted off my shoulders when I’d realized where my heart belonged. Then it only came crashing back down when I turned and saw Olivier walking towards me from the piano. And here I was acting like the crazed lover who just had her heart broken into pieces. While letting Olivier go did hurt, it wasn’t an abysmal pain because I knew the next step was telling Wesley my heart was his.
Olivier had taken my hand and was examining the bruise already coloring my knuckles. Yanking it away from him, I cradled it in my lap. I deserved to deal with the consequences of my actions. Pain shot up my arm when I flexed my fingers. Crap, I think I might have actually broken my hand. “Charlotte? Carissime?”
“Don’t call me that. I don’t deserve the term,” my hollow voice demanded.
One hand gripped my jaw firmly while the other took possession of my injured hand. Olivier forced my eyes to meet his. “You can take your whole heart from me, Charlotte, but you will always be carissime.” His eyes gave a warning that I wouldn’t like what he’d do if I kept up this self-loathing. “Now, quit fighting me and let me fix your hand. At least you punched the way I taught you. Too bad for you that you choose to hit a wall.” He chuckled under his breath before his lips erased the bruise from my fingers.
When the bruise was gone Olivier didn’t release my hand. Instead, he pressed it to his chest. “Charlotte, no more of this. We all knew the day would come when you’d break one of our hearts. It serves no purpose to hurt you back. I already know it pains you also.”
I dropped my eyes and mumbled. “Olivier, why are you being so gracious about this?”
“I love you and I don’t want to see you hurt. This was an impossible situation and a relationship between us was always a long shot.” I closed my eyes to his kindness a
nd continued to reprimand myself. “Look at me.” Sighing, I gave in to him. “You still need to live here. Whatever room you want is yours. In public we need to remain a couple but I swear I won’t take advantage. After everything though I hope we’ll continue our friendship. I hope you still want me in your life?”
I’d given him my eyes but not my sight. In response to his question I blinked and threw my arms around his neck, pulling him into a tight hug. “Of course, Olivier, of course. That is if you think it won’t be too painful for you. You’ve given me so much and I never wanted to walk away from you completely. I meant what I said. I do love you.”
His tears dampened my cheeks and his shoulders slightly shook before he replied. “Thank you. It’s more than I deserve…”
“It’s so much less than you deserve, charissimus. To me you’ll always be a dear, treasured friend. Remember just because I’m not returning your love exactly the way you want it doesn’t make you less of a man. You’re a good man, Olivier.” He pulled out of our hug enough to place a chaste kiss on my lips. I didn’t rebuke him for doing so. It warmed my heart but it no longer sent it racing. “A good man,” I repeated against his lips.
Nodding, Olivier stood and offered his hands to me. With my hands in his I planted my feet in order to rise and a searing pain surged through my body while a blinding light shined in my eyes. Suddenly he was gone. His strength, his protection, his comfort, they were all stripped away and I was left with grief, a pounding behind my eyes, and skin that felt like I had a second degree burn even if it still felt whole. All those clues told me Olivier had somehow been threatened with the ignes iudicii.
Why had I passed out? The only time I’d done that before was when I’d actually caught fire. Was I lying down? Was I on the floor or the bed? How long had I been out? While I was unconscious it seemed as though my mind had decided to revisit the night after the school’s Freshman Orientation when I’d broken Olivier’s heart. Why would I choose that memory? Did it have something to do with Olivier? Oh my God! Olivier! Was he alive? But Celinda was with me, I distinctly remembered that. Where was she now? She’d said every exile employed by Hell was eager to vanquish Olivier and Wesley. Was Wesley alright? I vaguely remembered hitting my head when I’d fainted. Maybe it wasn’t as severe as I thought. God, but I hoped so! Yet with my luck they were probably dead.
Charlotte! Pull yourself together. That train of thought doesn’t help anyone, not them, and not yourself. After many attempts to move, my body finally responded to my mind and I was able to open my eyes and take in my surroundings. I was still in my padded prison. Someone had put me in bed. Movement in my peripheral vision caught my attention. I wasn’t alone in the room. “Who’s there?”
“It’s me, Mrs. Grace. I’m not going to hurt you.” The voice belonged to the kindly sandman. Well, if you’d call only holding me down while I was being drugged and looking at me with sympathy kindly, he was the kindly one. But in this hell that I was imprisoned in, I considered it as such.
“What are you doing here?” I asked in a ragged voice. “Am I going to be drugged again?”
“No, ma’am.” He shook his head and again behind those familiar, veiled, blue eyes was a hint of sympathy. “Your sister doesn’t want you drugged anymore. She didn’t like the way it messed with your mind. I was charged with watching over you and now that you’re awake, I’m supposed to go inform her.” I tried to lift myself up onto my elbows but found the effort exhausting. He walked over to me and put a gentle hand on my shoulder, pressing me back into the bed. “Lie down, Mrs. Grace. You need your rest. This will all be over soon. Be ready.” Confused by his prophetic words, I didn’t fight his pressure. I looked into his eyes and everything instantly clicked into place.
He moved to leave but I grabbed his arm. “Methos!” It wasn’t the face I’d seen him wear before but I knew those eyes. He didn’t say anything. His hand firmly removed mine from his arm and he quickly left me confused and alone.
Waiting for someone to return and hopefully answer my questions, I eventually fell asleep. When I woke I had no idea how long I’d been out this time. I pressed a hand to my head to shut out the thundering. I didn’t immediately realize it wasn’t going on behind my eyes. The quaking I was feeling was from a sudden shake in the building and an alarm was blaring. That must have been what woke me up.
I leapt from the bed, looking around to figure out what I could use to protect myself. There weren’t any options. All there was the bed. When I flipped it over I discovered a kind of grated shelf sat underneath. I shoved the bed against the door to hopefully create enough resistance so I could kick the grate off it instead of kicking it throughout the room. It was a risky venture because the act of freeing the grate ate at my energy store but I would be a sitting duck without something.
Finally the grate fell free but I left the bed where it was. With nothing else to do I shrank into the corner, listening to the sounds of destruction coming from the other side of the door. There was gunfire, obscenities, and screams. Was this the chaos the exiles had been waiting for? Did that mean Wesley had killed whomever Celinda had ordered him to?
For a long time I was ignored. Everything was occurring on the other side of the door. Periodically someone would jiggle the handle or a body would be slammed against the window. There was one clear plea for help. But all the noise was muffled and the only mayhem I experienced. At least until the door began jumping as if someone was slamming themselves into it. I stood, gripping the grate in both hands and spread my legs to be shoulder width apart.
I don’t know who I’d been expecting, the sandmen, Celinda, maybe Olivier or Wesley. But when the door finally gave and the bed went spinning through the room, the brute from my beating hadn’t been among them. In truth, I’d actually forgotten about him because I’d never seen him before or after those excruciating minutes. There was blood on his clothes and bruises on his face. He’d been in the heat of the battle going on in the rest of the building.
The way he walked into the room reminded me of the images we’d seen in my history classes of conquerors coming to collect their female spoils. I was the only woman in the room. As he took me in, a vile smile crept onto his face. But I refused to go easily; I refused to just lie down. With his hands up he stalked me like a predator does prey and I fought the urge to flinch at his feints. I kept my eyes glued to his hips so I’d know the instant he actually decided to charge.
When it came I was ready. He’d planned to pin me in the corner then strip away the grate. But I wasn’t some simpering female who was pretending she’d defend herself. I damn well intended to. The strength he used to strip the grate from my grasp reminded me of Olivier but I refused to let go and went with the momentum, thus letting him pull me from the corner. Now my back was to the door. Stunned, he released the grate and I took the second I had to swing it with all my might, catching him in the jaw. His head snapped to the side and he stumbled back a few steps but he didn’t fall.
Most would have chosen to retreat. I wasn’t most. Olivier hadn’t just taught me to fight; he’d also taught me to strategize. This man was stronger, faster, and better prepared. He hadn’t been locked in a room with nothing. So in this case, running would have meant capture. All I had was the element of surprise and the blow I’d delivered was only the beginning. I didn’t hesitate to go on the offensive. Going with the momentum of my swing, I spun and pulled the grate up hitting him square in the chin, knocking his head upwards. As I pressed him backwards I pulled the grate down and jabbed it at his now unprotected stomach.
The wall caught him and kept him from falling to the ground. With its steadying help he swept a leg out to knock me off my feet. My head was still bouncing off the floor when he was on me with the grate between us. His legs quickly slid between mine and spread them. Blood dripped from his busted lips onto my face. The weight of his chest trapped my body and arms as the menace in his eyes assaulted my mind. Much like Cleveland and Duke he was going to toy with and tor
ture me first. But unlike with them, he wasn’t going to speak, leaving my mind to do the heavy lifting as it ran wild with all the terrible things that awaited me at his hands.
I forcibly pulled my thoughts off of the horrendous future and back onto the still pretty rotten present to run through my remaining options. I wasn’t going to able to just roll him off me. He was at least twice my size. He also was probably not going to fall for false meekness or flattered submission. What I needed was to get surprise back on my side. What I needed was leverage. If I could catch the grate on something, maybe I could use it to help push off his weight and wriggle out from under him. It was a long shot but the pain of fighting against him was starting burn its way up my arms, so it was all I had.
I searched the room. The bed was still cockeyed on the floor and was only about an arm’s length away. If I could maneuver us closer maybe I could catch one of the bars on it. Still fighting him, but with a little more purpose now, I started rolling my body from side to side. He responded as I’d hoped and seemed to think I was doing it to get away so he’d roll to stop my efforts. Yet when he’d make for the side that would take us away from the overturned bed, I’d wrench my body away, shifting towards the bed. It was an extremely slow process and I was becoming winded, but ultimately we made our way there with him none the wiser. Now I just needed to figure out a way to lift the one side of the grate high enough to catch on the leg of the bed.
He actually gave me my opportunity. Tired of toying with me, rubbing himself against me, and not getting my screams of terror as reward, he rolled away from the bed, tilting the grate up towards the leg to undo his pants. For once luck was on my side and I used the rest of my strength to push against him as the grate hooked the leg. But as with everything else in my life, what seems good doesn’t take long to go bad. His weight pulled against the bed and it started to tip as it tried to right itself back on its legs. When he saw the bed coming for him, he rolled away and I was able to roll in the opposing direction and underneath the bed. I scrambled to my feet to find he was too shocked by what had happened to have risen to his yet. It seems fortune had chosen to favor me.