Pyromancist

by Charmaine Pauls

  He took a step away from her. “I’m sorry for everything you’ve suffered. I promise to make it up to you, each and every day that you had to go without a fucking basic comfort.”

  “Josselin,” she pleaded, “you don’t need to make up for anything. Just love me.”

  “I do,” he said, “and when I’m done with you tonight, you’ll know just how much.”

  She shivered her body already a pulsating mass of sensation at the verbal promise.

  “I’ll leave you to it,” he said.

  He turned and left the kitchen to give her time alone inside her childhood house.

  Clelia went through the house, but without Erwan’s presence, there wasn’t a reason to linger inside. There was nothing she wanted to take or pack. Josselin had provided generously for her. Soon she was back outside. She was eager to see if the rabbits, guinea pigs, cats and hedgehogs were all right.

  She did a quick round, satisfied that each and every animal was in good health, and sat down in the grass to play with the dogs. She heard a bark and when she looked up, she saw a three-legged dog hopping from the beach in her direction.

  She held out her arms. “Come here, you.”

  A few seconds later Tripod happily obliged, jumping into her arms.

  “They’re happy to see you,” Josselin said. He was standing by the doghouse, his shoulder braced against the wooden frame.

  She cuddled Tripod. “They’re well looked after.”

  “I asked the vet for weekly updates.” He pointed at a corner inside the wooden house. “Had webcams installed too. That way I could watch them from afar, make sure they were all right.”

  She blinked at him. “You did all of that for me?”

  “Of course. After all, I promised.”

  “I thought you said you didn’t promise.”

  “You know what I meant when I said that.” He straightened. “I’m sorry, but we have to go.”

  She was sad to have to leave so soon. “Can we come back tomorrow?”

  “Yes,” he said, offering her a hand to pull her to her feet. “I promise.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Back at the castle, their bedroom was tidy, the kitchen cleaned, and their bed sheets changed. Clelia blushed when she thought about the evidence of their lovemaking that had marked the sheets. She also found her suitcase unpacked in a new armoire that stood in the corner of the bedroom, as well as a whole lot of new clothes and shoes. The fireplaces had been cleaned out and new fires were already burning.

  “When did all of this happen?” she asked.

  “The same company that takes care of your cottage and cleans my house in Larmor is managing the castle.”

  “A cleaning company that provides clothes and furniture?” She motioned to the armoire.

  “It’s more like a private house managing service.” He took her hand. “You may want to take over the arrangements, seeing that you’re the mistress of the house now,” he smiled, “but I wanted everything to be ready for you when I brought you here as my bride.”

  Clelia’s heart swelled. She thought about her discussion with Erwan, when he said that the right woman could cure a man like a doctor or therapist couldn’t. It was still hard to believe that she was the one, the woman Josselin loved. He was asking her to manage his house, trusting their home to her. She looked around the big hall. For the simple granddaughter of a fisherman who had lived in a cottage all of her life, it seemed daunting.

  “This is not just a house. It’s a castle. I’m not sure I’ll even know where to start, never mind what to do.” She bit her lip. “I don’t want to disappoint you.”

  He touched her chin. “No matter what you do, you can never disappoint me. Remember, the castle is just temporary. Soon we’ll leave for New York. I just wanted you to know that you’re free to reorganize or redecorate or whatever it is you women like to do. I love spoiling you, and being the dominant bastard that I am, I may sometimes forget that you may want things to look or to be done differently.”

  The generosity of his offer once again reminded Clelia of the goodness of the man who often saw himself as a devil. She had to swallow down emotional tears.

  “Thank you, Josselin. That’s good to know.”

  “Anything else you need? You could make a list and give it to my personal shopper, or we could go shopping in Vannes tomorrow.”

  “No, thank you, you’re very considerate. You’ve thought of everything.”

  “Would you like to see the rest of the castle before dinner? You must be starving. I thought we could have an early supper.”

  They had woken up early, but their breakfast had lasted up to noon, and therefore, they had skipped lunch. She was actually hungry.

  “An early meal sounds good. And I can’t wait to see the rest of the castle.”

  “Good.” He took her hand. “Warm enough?”

  She nodded.

  Josselin took her on a tour of the stronghold that had been in his family for centuries, explaining the history, the architecture, and the periodic destructions and rebuildings. There were four levels. They started on the top floor that consisted of small attic rooms that had been occupied by servants in the distant past. The third floor had several bedrooms with en-suite sitting and reading rooms. Two big halls dominated the first floor, one of which they occupied. There were also several smaller rooms that served as offices and game rooms. The ground floor had a big reception room and dining room that opened onto a terrace overlooking the lake. The kitchens, washing and storerooms were located in the left tower while the right encompassed a large library. The stables stood separately at the back of the courtyard.

  The library was the only room in the castle with wooden panels on the raw stonewalls. The shelves were empty. Josselin explained that the private collection of books were stored in Vannes.

  After their brief tour, Josselin led her back into the large dining room. As for the rest of the rooms, with the exception of the hall where they slept, it was bare except for a table that had been pushed against the window. It was beautifully laid with silver and crystal ware.

  “Shall we?” Josselin pulled a chair out for her.

  When Clelia was seated, a mature woman wearing a black dress and a string of white pearls entered. Clelia shot a surprised glance at Josselin. She didn’t know they were not alone in the castle.

  “Clelia, may I present my competent house manager? This is Izabell. Izabell, meet my wife.”

  “At last,” Izabell exclaimed. “I’ve heard so much about you, Madame de Arradon.”

  Clelia immediately took a liking to the woman with the short gray hair and beautiful face. She had a no-nonsense attitude that reminded Clelia of Erwan, but Clelia could sense her warmth.

  “Please, call me Clelia. Thank you for all that you’ve done. Everything is perfect.”

  “I’m happy that it pleases you.” She looked at Josselin with a fond smile. “Your husband was very particular about what he wanted for you. It’s been a while since I’ve had such a challenging project.”

  Josselin took a seat opposite Clelia while Izabell lit a big vanilla candle on the table.

  “Having the electricity reconnected isn’t a straightforward exercise, I’m afraid,” Josselin said. “It will take several months to redo all the wiring. I apologize for the candles.”

  Izabell had started lighting candles in the holders on the walls. “It’s a hell of a job cooking for you on a fire.”

  Clelia’s eyes widened. “You had to cook on a fire?”

  “I could have brought a paraffin stove,” Izabell said, “but I hate cooking on those. It’s not the kind of catering I like to serve to my best client.”

  Josselin grinned. “I apologize for the fire, too.”

  “No need for apologies.” Izabell chuckled. “My extortionate fee makes up for that.”

  Clelia watched the exchange between Josselin and Izabell. She could understand why Josselin liked Izabell. She seemed like a hands-on kind of person wh
o wouldn’t skimp on luxury or quality, totally capable of meeting Josselin’s perfectionist demands.

  “Shall I serve your starters?” Izabell asked.

  Josselin looked at Clelia for an answer and she nodded.

  When Izabell disappeared through the door, Josselin said, “I took the liberty of giving Izabell carte blanche on the dinner menu tonight. From now on, I leave it in your capable hands.” He added hastily, “If you wish.”

  “I’d like that,” Clelia said, feeling slightly intimidated by the prospect, but looking forward to taking care of Josselin for a change.

  “As much as I want to lock you up here and keep you all to myself, I’ll soon take you to town for dinner.”

  Something about the way Josselin’s shoulders tensed made Clelia wary. “Out in the open?”

  He leaned over the table to brush her hair from her face. “Like I said this afternoon, I need to show you off.”

  She didn’t miss the flicker of concern in his eyes or the tone of apprehension in his voice.

  “I get it,” she said softly. “It’s not just for Erwan’s sake. You need to let Lupien know I’m back.”

  “I’m sorry.” He took her fingers and kissed her hand. “I wish it wasn’t so.”

  Clelia’s tummy clenched in fear. “You said I need to fight him. How am I supposed to do that?”

  Izabell returned with an ice bucket and a bottle of champagne. “Shall I open it?”

  Josselin shook his head. “Thank you, Iza. I’ve got it.”

  He waited until Izabell was out of earshot before he said, “Have you ever started a voluntary fire?”

  “Never. Erwan said I only started two fires when I was three years old.”

  “After the fires started in Larmor, did you feel any different?” he said, studying her.

  She thought for a while. “I had the dream, and I started sleepwalking. I felt something inside of me when you took me to the yacht. Without being able to put my finger on it, I can only tell you that I felt stronger, surer of myself, of what was going to happen.”

  “Does it get stronger still?”

  “Yes. It may be nothing. It just feels like a new kind of confidence.”

  Izabell reentered with a platter of oysters on a bed of crushed ice.

  “I hope you like them,” she said to Clelia. “Josselin wasn’t much help there. For someone who knows you down to the size of your shoes and underwear, he doesn’t know much about your eating preferences.”

  Clelia felt herself flush, and looked at her hands. “I love oysters. Thank you.”

  “She grew up here, Iza.”

  Izabell shrugged, apparently oblivious to Clelia’s discomfort. “That doesn’t count for anything. So did I and I hate oysters.” She poured them each a glass of water from a decanter and gave Clelia a sunny smile. “Eat up. You’re such a skinny little thing.”

  When Izabell had left the room, Josselin prepared an oyster with lemon juice, pinched it with his fork, and brought it to Clelia’s mouth. “Open.”

  She obeyed. With Josselin, everything was a command, and she loved the way he took charge when needed, knowing exactly when to let her have some control of her own. Right now, she wanted him to take the lead. She needed his strength, not only for the danger that waited, but also for the initiation into making her his lover. Just watching his black hair shine in the light of the candle, the white streaks a reminder of his inner darkness, and the warmth in his eyes a reminder of how fully he had possessed her in his bed last night, made her knees clench in need.

  He watched her eat and take a sip of her champagne with barely disguised passion.

  “Where were we?” he said, clearly as affected as she was with the anticipation of going back to bed. “Fires. Ah. Yes. I would love to set fire to your body, to see your passion burn for me.”

  Clelia swallowed. She took another sip of the delicious champagne as her throat went dry.

  He seemed to compose himself with some effort. “According to the research I’ve done, regressed art is awakened by intense practice of the art or the presence of a master.”

  “Lupien?”

  Josselin nodded. He fed her another oyster before helping himself. “The records are limited. Fire starting hasn’t been practiced for many centuries. According to what I could lay my hands on, a regressed art can be brought to the surface by the meticulous training of a master, or by a sudden onset of powerful shock or emotion.”

  Despite her fear, Clelia’s interest was piqued. “Where did you find such records?”

  “Lann is an avid collector of ancient books. His private library proved to be an invaluable source of information.”

  “So, I need a master.”

  Josselin’s gaze turned somber, and Clelia knew that she had touched on the crux of the problem.

  “There is no other master firestarter,” she said slowly. “Lupien is the only one.”

  “According to the records I have access to, yes.”

  Clelia felt her wariness grow. “How will I manage then? You’re not going to give me some electric shock or something?”

  He gave her a stern look. “Clelia, I’m not Dr. Frankenstein. I love you. I’d never hurt you.”

  “That’s not what I meant. I just don’t see how it’s even possible.”

  By the time Izabell approached with a tray loaded with two steaming plates, they had finished the dozen oysters. Izabell cleared the dishes and utensils and placed the main course in front of them.

  “Grilled sea bass with fern and salted butter, and grilled vegetables on the side,” Izabell said. “It’s the best I could do with a grill on the kitchen fire. Tomorrow I should have fresh lobster.”

  “This looks delicious. Thank you Izabell,” Clelia said.

  Izabell turned to Josselin. “Would you like a Sauvignon Blanc with your main course?”

  Josselin looked at Clelia. “Cle?”

  “I’m fine with the champagne, thank you.” Her head was already spinning from the glass she had.

  “No, thank you, Iza. We’ll stick to the champagne.”

  “I’ll leave your dessert in the kitchen,” Izabell said. “I’ll be on my way then, unless there’s anything else you need?”

  Josselin got to his feet to touch his cheek four times to the older woman’s in the customary greeting. “No, thank you Iza. I appreciate you coming in personally to take care of our dinner.”

  Izabell kissed Clelia’s cheek. “My regular chefs are all booked because of the peak season, but I actually enjoyed the primitive experience.” She winked at Clelia. “Good evening. Glad to have finally met you.” To Josselin she said, “Just leave everything as is. My team will be in in the morning to clear the table and clean the kitchen.”

  After Izabell had left, they ate in silence for a while. The fish was scrumptious. It was perfectly cooked.

  “You said you feel a change inside yourself,” Josselin said. “With the information I have, I could train you.”

  “Will it work?” Clelia asked skeptically.

  “I don’t know.”

  “Then why not run if we’re not sure? Why face Lupien? I lived in South Africa for four months without being discovered.”

  “I found you,” he reminded her gently. “It was only a matter of time... Besides, Lupien will never stop, not until he has you, and the only way to ensure your safety is for you to be prepared.”

  “What exactly did you mean when you said I had to face him?”

  “The only way for Lupien to steal your art is for him to corrupt you. He cannot take it from you if you don’t give in to your dark side. He’ll try anything to turn you to evil. He’ll kill, lie, burn, manipulate, and torture whoever he must. Whatever he does, you can never give in, do you hear me? You can never give in to the darkness his actions would make you feel. Because when you do, he’ll take what he wants–your gift. And the only way for him to take it, is to kill you.”

  Her heart clenched at the thought of facing Lupien and his wrath,
and all of which he was capable. “Why face him at all then?”

  “It’s the only way.”

  “Who’s to say he won’t simply come back again and again, until he can sway me?”

  Josselin was quiet for a moment. He pushed his plate back, regarding her with an intensity that she had seen before, the day in the forest when he had hit Iwig. A fear much bigger than the one she felt for herself enveloped her soul.

  She felt the blood drain from her face. “No, Josselin.” She shook her head. “No. You’re not going to fight him.”

  “It’s the only way,” he said again.

  “You lied to me. You brought me here under the impression that I was the one to fight him, but it was never your intention. It’s you who’s going to fight him.” When he didn’t answer, panic rose inside of her. “Am I right?”

  His gaze was steady. “I didn’t lie to you when I said you’d have to face him. But we’ll face him together.” He gave her an apologetic look. “In a symbolic sense.”

  Clelia jumped to her feet. “You did lie to me. You’re not going to let me go near him, are you?”

  He got up too. “Cle, I’m a skilled fighter, an expert on paranormal abilities.” He rounded the table slowly. “Trust me.”

  She shook her head again. “No. No. I don’t want you to put your life in danger.” Tears burned at the back of her eyes.

  “There’s no other option.” He spoke patiently, as if he were talking to a child. “If I don’t do this now, we’ll never be free of him. Can you honestly live like that, looking over your shoulder every minute of every day? Do you know what will become of me if anything happens to you?” His eyes flashed with emotion. “I couldn’t live through that again. Ever.”

  Clelia saw his pain and anguish. She couldn’t imagine how terrible it had to have been for him to have lost everyone he loved, his whole family, in one night, and to have taken the blame. He had carried the weight of that fateful night on his shoulders for so long. He had suffered enough for one lifetime. She couldn’t ask him to live in fear for the rest of his life, yet, how could she send him to danger with her blessing?