Ashes

by P. M. Briede

  I immediately felt guilty for screaming because Olivier already was. His hands were on Wesley’s chest and I could hear the change in Wesley’s breathing. It was still labored but it no longer sounded tortured. His chest also looked more like its original shape instead of being concaved. When Olivier was done there, I expected him to move to another of Wesley’s more pressing injuries but he didn’t. He sat back on his haunches and looked between Wesley and me. “What are you doing?” I asked.

  “Charlotte, I wasn’t kidding,” Olivier carefully began. “You need to let me heal you. I don’t have enough strength left to heal all of Breaux’s injuries anyway. I mended his ribs enough to take the pressure off his lungs. We can tear the sheets and use them and the table to make a splint for his ankle and hand.”

  Now I was downright pissed. I was nowhere near the shape Wesley was in and Olivier still wanted to bring me back to perfection! The strained sound of Wesley’s voice mumbled something so softly I couldn’t register a word he’d said. “What is he saying?” I demanded from Olivier since he could hear everything! “What is that, my darling?” I reached a hand out to stroke Wesley’s hair. “You need rest, Wesley. I need you to rest.”

  Olivier didn’t answer me but put his lips to Wesley’s ear. Whatever Olivier told Wesley the information made Wesley’s eyes grow so wide I could actually see them beneath the swollen folds. The voice that would barely have been considered a whisper before came out clear when he demanded Olivier to heal me. Before I could argue I was swept into Olivier’s embrace with his lips pressed to mine. My body automatically responded to him and I found myself with parted lips as his tongue slipped between them.

  A slow, probing burn stole through me as it traveled from my mouth down my chest to my stomach. There it stopped, growing until it encompassed my entire abdomen. Olivier’s kiss grew more loving, if that was even possible, as his arms pressed my body closer to his. There was also a hint of finality in it which I didn’t understand. The one thing that wasn’t there: eroticism. His kiss no longer made my heart palpitate or blood boil with desire. I’d truly made the right choice.

  Olivier released me when the embers had all faded away. Hugging me tight, his lips found my ear. “Always carissime. Te amo.” I love you. That’s when reality came crashing back down. One of my hands was on Olivier’s bicep, letting my arm drape along his. I was surprised the other wasn’t doing the same until I felt then saw why. Wesley had captured that hand in his. Oh, God! Wesley had witnessed the whole thing!

  As if my head was transparent and my thoughts were written out for him to read, Wesley consoled me. “It’s alright, love. He told me it’s the best way to heal you. I knew full well what I was asking.” It wasn’t the mumbling from before but his voice didn’t sound as strong as it had when he’d ordered Olivier to look out for me instead of him.

  I intended to kneel back down beside Wesley but was pushed off my feet by a crushing force. It was Olivier and at first I didn’t comprehend what was going on. “That’s enough now,” I grumbled as I tried to shove him away. “Get off me!” But Olivier couldn’t. I recalled my first healing with him when the aftermath had left him so weak he crumbled on my patio. The same was happening now. Given his size, holding him upright on my own was out of the question. As best as I could I tried to control his fall and soften the blow when we both met the floor. In the end I was sitting on the floor with my back to the bed, one arm stretched out over my shoulder as it was still trapped in Wesley’s hand, the other combing through Olivier’s hair as his head was using my lap for a pillow.

  Within minutes I heard the steady, rhythmic breathing of the two men in the room. My shoulder burned from the awkward angle my arm was in but I couldn’t bring myself to pull my hand out of Wesley’s. Olivier was also exacting his own discomfort on my body. The weight of his head and shoulders were heavy on my leg and were putting undo pressure on my hip. But I couldn’t remove him from my lap for my own selfish comfort. It took a while for me to join them but eventually I nodded off to sleep as well.

  A constant tug on my hand brought me out of the first contented slumber I’d known for weeks that hadn’t been drug induced. My eyes opened to find Olivier’s gazing back at me. He was no longer in my lap. In fact, I was in his with an arm stretched across his chest because the hand attached to it was still firmly clasped in Wesley’s. The ache in my shoulder and hip were gone as were all Olivier’s bruises. I assumed Olivier woke healed and shifted us all around to make me more comfortable. “I think the whelp is waking up as well,” he announced with a smirk.

  It was true. Wesley did seem to be stirring. So I scrambled out of Olivier’s lap and knelt on the floor closer to Wesley’s head. “Shh, you still need rest,” I whispered. Wesley’s lips started moving and I was worried at first that his breathing had worsened. But the swelling around his face had receded some and I could see the pupils of his eyes and they were looking at the pitcher on the table. I reached over to pour him a glass but when I tried to free my other hand, Wesley wouldn’t release me. “I’m not going anywhere but I need that to get you your water.”

  Without a word, Olivier stood and poured the glass. I thanked him then put it to Wesley’s lips. Just as he was taking his first sips there was a crash and I jumped, spilling water on his face. With the corner of the sheet, I dabbed at his face while peering over my shoulder to see what had happened. “Good God, Olivier, what in the hell are you doing?”

  The table the pitcher and glass had been on was now in shambles on the floor. Olivier was picking up pieces and examining them. “I told you earlier,” he responded. “Breaux’s injuries that I can’t heal need to be set as best we can.” He didn’t look at me as he answered, instead splitting another piece of wood.

  “Next time you think you can give me a little warning, then? Your demolition caused me to give Wesley a poor excuse for a shower.” I wasn’t angry though because bottom line what Olivier was doing helped Wesley. When I turned back to the most injured of our party there was a smile on his face. He opened his mouth to speak but I put a finger to it silencing him. “Drink, Wesley, and rest.” I commanded. As I offered him another sip Olivier again split more of the wood. At least this time I didn’t shower Wesley.

  While I tried to mitigate Wesley’s dehydration, Olivier worked on setting his ankle and hand. Having been in countless wars, he was actually quite handy at makeshift medical treatments. “That’s the best I can do for him at the moment,” Olivier pronounced when he was done. “Hopefully it’s enough to tide him over until you two can get to a hospital or until I build up enough strength to work on him myself.”

  I was now sitting on the edge of the bed with Wesley’s uninjured hand cupped between mine. He wasn’t back asleep but he was close. “How long will that take?” I whispered.

  Olivier sat on the floor at my feet, shrugged his shoulders, and looked up at me. “A day or two. He’s pretty banged up so it’s not as simple as erasing a couple of bruises. There are bones that need to be mended, along with a few veins and arteries.”

  “You do all that?” I asked in shock. For some reason I’d never comprehended exactly what Olivier did when he healed a person.

  With a glint in his eye Olivier nodded his head. “What’d you think I did, just masked the evidence?” Actually that’s exactly what I’d always thought. “I try to restore you to the state you were in before the injury occurred. That means mending the bones, realigning and closing the broken blood vessels, smoothing out any errant scars, and erasing the bruising. It’s not a simple task. Breaux’s chest alone was more than I should have taken on yesterday.”

  More interested in knowing what happened to them I skipped the other obvious question about why Olivier had been so insistent on healing me first. Over the next half hour or so, Olivier laid out their horrid tale. He’d picked up on all the clues I’d dropped in our one phone call during my captivity. He took those to Methos and, along with Wesley, they devised the plan. Celinda required the death of Alexand
er’s opponent because his assassination at the hands of Alexander’s chief advisor would break the country wide open.

  What had actually happened was that Methos removed the opponent from danger and out of sight. Olivier likened it to what he’d done to Russell at the House of Blues nine months ago at the school fundraiser. Olivier stepped in wearing the opponent’s face and took Wesley’s bullet. Tristan and Paige managed the false media stream to Celinda, and thus the exile army. During my call with Wesley and Olivier, Paige had planted malware on Celinda’s phone. This is what got them access to her network. It was also what told them the rebellion signal was the death of the losing presidential candidate.

  “How did they not pick up on that?” I asked about the malware.

  “It never occurred to them that we’d try,” Olivier answered.

  “Then did Wesley get caught in the riot outside the facility where I was being held?” Wesley’s injuries didn’t make any sense. I would have expected bullet holes, not broken bones.

  “We needed bait, Charlotte, and he was it,” Olivier answered. I gasped and asked why. “We were in the network but we still didn’t know where you were. Wesley and I were in agreement. We refused to help herald the exile rebellion unless we were given the opportunity to save you. So we faked a death and let Celinda’s people capture him to find you. It was Breaux’s idea.” I looked at Wesley. “They led us to your location and during the battle Methos and I raided the building searching for him and for you.”

  We’d been there together? “We found him in a room with three exiles,” Olivier continued. “They’d beaten him. They’d shown him body parts, claiming they were yours. They told him you were still alive but you wouldn’t survive unless he talked. It was all to ascertain the angel’s plans. He didn’t cave.” Olivier’s voice trailed off at the end. When I looked back at him his eyes were closed; his head laid back on the bed. “I wanted to search for you but Methos ordered me to see Breaux to safety and took off. There was nothing else to do.”

  “So who threatened you with the ignes iudicii? Celinda was with me when I felt the burn and had the headache. Was it one of the exiles?”

  Olivier had been calm during his tale. At my question his eyes popped open with the fire flaring in them and he inhaled sharply. “No one threatened me, Charlotte! When did you experience that?”

  It took me a while to figure it out. Time hadn’t been easy to track in my padded room. “I don’t know. No more than a day before the battle, I think.”

  Olivier didn’t say anything but his eyes darted to Wesley. Mine followed. Could Wesley have been the one threatened? Did that mean that my life was tied even more directly to his as it was to Olivier?

  We didn’t say anything else until food was brought to our room. Though I really didn’t want to, I woke Wesley up to eat. He didn’t eat much but it worked out because I finished off what was left of his plate. When I was done I caught Olivier shaking his head. “What’s so funny?” I spat indignantly. I didn’t appreciate him finding my hunger amusing.

  “You really don’t know, do you?” I had no idea what Olivier was talking about but before I could answer, Wesley silently tugged on the hand he was holding. He deserved my undivided attention so turned to take care of him.

  Soon Wesley was back asleep and Olivier was back at my feet with his head against my thigh. “What do you know about angel’s imbued with God’s grace?” I asked.

  “Ignem redemptiónem,” he solemnly answered. “I’ve heard of it. I’ve never met anyone with it.”

  More fire? Seriously? “Fires of redemption,” I translated. Olivier looked up at me and smirked. “Do you know what they do?”

  “They’re not that different from the ignes iudicii. One decimates life; the other restores it.” I must have been wearing my confusion. “Fire isn’t only a destructive force, Charlotte. It can also cleanse corruption, allowing for rebirth.” I guess that made sense so I nodded and let the subject go.

  We spent another night and day in the room before we were finally collected. It was sometime during the night when unfamiliar arms slid around me and pulled me away from Wesley. I struggled against them until Olivier ordered me to stop. Two men, whom I assumed were angels, stood on either side of him as a third lifted Wesley out of the bed. “Put me down!” I protested. “I’ll not be treated like some sort of flight risk! If Olivier can walk, then so can I!”

  We weren’t set free and we weren’t taken back to the makeshift interrogation room. No we were carted off to a long empty room that looked like a warehouse, except the walls, floor, and ceiling were concrete. There was a faint smell of smoke and some scorch marks on the floor. This must be the burning room which meant the angels had reached a verdict.

  I don’t know why I’d expected something akin to a human trial, some kind of representation, some kind of deliberation. Methos and another man were standing like stones at the opposing end of the room. Their features alone told me these were my last few moments. Once centered in the space our escorts parted to line up along the side walls. Olivier was standing tall and unfettered. I did my best to imitate him. Wesley was standing without assistance but he was hunched to alleviate the pressure on his broken ankle while cradling his broken hand to his chest.

  When I took a step to give Wesley the support he needed the angel I didn’t know tsked me. “Ah, ah, ah, Mrs. Grace. You will all face judgment on your own two feet. You come into this world alone and alone you shall exit it.”

  At his word’s Olivier took two steps forward but froze when the angel stretched his hand out with the palm facing Olivier. “That is not the deal I made, Baccus,” Olivier seethed. “Of any of us, Charlotte has done nothing!” I looked to Methos with pleading eyes, begging him to state our intention and efforts had meant something. All I saw was a slight tensing around his eyes, a slight pursing of his lips. It seemed to me Methos wasn’t at all pleased with this outcome. At least to him what we’d done had mattered.

  It was not as I’d imagined it would be when this moment finally came. For some reason I thought we’d each be tied to our own stakes with kindling at our feet and set ablaze. No, instead Baccus issued our sentence. We were all guilty and we each just stood there about an arm’s length from each other. Before delivering our punishment, Baccus clarified the deal Olivier had made. “You asked that she not be left alone in this life, that she be spared the pain of losing you both. She will be. In fact she’s first.” The two angels raised their arms and the flames leapt from their hands to dance in the air as they arced towards me. With nothing left to do I accepted my fate and stepped forward to meet the fire.

  Chapter 16

  Having always heard that when your time comes your life flashes before your eyes, I closed mine to the sickening fire and searing pain I knew were coming. I opened myself to whatever solace there was. I was afraid and saddened that no one would mourn me because they wouldn’t remember I’d ever existed. Was I going to be aware at all of my own demise? Was it going to hurt?

  But I learned life doesn’t flash before your eyes, moments do. In this case my mind chose to retreat to that girl’s weekend I’d taken with Paige just a few months earlier. We drove up to the Grove Park Inn Resort and Spa in North Carolina as the dawning fog blanketed the grounds. It painted a beautiful picture.

  The valet took our car, stating our luggage would be brought to our room. I’d expected Paige to walk immediately to the check in counter, but instead she excused herself for a moment, leaving me in the lobby while she insisted on talking to the concierge alone. She wasn’t gone long. When she came back she apologized and said there was something she had to take care of. I was ordered to follow the concierge to our room and that she’d be along in a minute. By this time he had my luggage in his hand and there wasn’t really any time to argue because he immediately took off through the lobby.

  We exited the back door. I was surprised when he led me down a few flights of stairs and across the grounds. To my left and right I could see the
resort rooms and couldn’t understand why we were walking away from the main buildings. Anytime I questioned him on what we were doing or where we were going, all he’d say was, “It’s all taken care of, ma’am.” After about five minutes of walking we entered a small garden and nestled inside was a cottage. “Here you are, ma’am,” he said as he opened the doors.

  I stepped into a living room that was like a fairy tale. Walking on the wooden floors, I was surrounded by all the creature comforts of home. Flowers sat atop every table and countertop in stunning arrangements and I wondered if Tristan had sent them for Paige or if they were just part of the cottage’s charm. The answer hit me like a bolt of lightning when, as I was walking further into the cottage towards the master bedroom, a distinctive smell penetrated and disrupted my thoughts. After a closer inspection of the floral arrangements, I noticed lilies, especially callas, were the featured flower in each one.

  “Is there anything else I can get for you, ma’am?” The voice pulled me out of my mind whirl and back firmly into the reality of where I was. The concierge was standing at the door, having left my luggage just inside.

  “Ah, no. Um, thank you.” I was so off balance that I didn’t realize he’d left while I was digging through my purse for some cash. The second the door clicked, I turned away from my purse and hollered. “Wesley!”

  Wesley materialized from behind the door to what I’d been told was the master bedroom and he looked like a dream. He was wearing a pair of khaki’s, a white button down shirt with the collar open, and only socks on his feet. His blond hair for once wasn’t perfectly styled and there was a bit of a shadow around his jaw. There was shock etched on his face. Not from seeing me in the cottage as it was obvious by the way he was holding a bouquet of callas that he’d been expecting me, but from having me figure out he was here. His mouth was slightly curved up at each corner giving him a mischievous air. All that coupled with the desire that sat in eyes made him look so rugged, so sexy. For a few seconds I stood there, as my eyes ate up the sight of him, cataloguing every feature for the memory I knew I’d revisit many times during the remainder of my lifetime.