Pyromancist

by Charmaine Pauls

  Mind made up, she pulled on her wool coat, put some money in her pocket and went outside where Siril was hosing down the terrace.

  “How long does it take to go to Josselin by bike?” she said.

  He looked up. “Josselin, like in the village?”

  “Yes.”

  “It took me thirty minutes to get here.”

  “I want to go to the market. Can I borrow your bike?”

  He looked uncertain. “Josselin said you must stay here until he gets back.”

  “I’ll pay you.”

  He didn’t answer.

  “I just want to surprise him with lunch and I need to pick up a few things. It’ll make him happy, I know.”

  “But Izabell said she’d be back to cook lunch.”

  “Just call her and tell her she doesn’t need to worry.”

  When he still hesitated, she said, “I am your boss, after all.”

  “Izabell’s my boss.”

  Clelia lifted an eyebrow. “Who pays your salary?”

  He thought about it, and said after a while, “All right. But I don’t want to get into trouble.”

  “I’ll be back in no time. Where’s your bike?”

  He pointed at the end of the terrace where a blue bicycle was propped up against the wall.

  Clelia started making her way to her ride when Siril called her back.

  “Oh, wait. I almost forgot.”

  He dug in the apron pocket and withdrew a mobile phone. “Josselin left this. He said to call if you need him. His number is saved on the phone.”

  She took it and smiled at her husband’s consideration. “Thank you.” She turned again.

  “Oh,” Siril said, “and I almost forgot. Someone called for you.”

  Clelia stopped in her tracks. She twirled to face him. “What did you say?”

  “Someone called while you were sleeping. I almost forgot to give you the message.”

  “Message?” Her heart started beating faster. “Who was it?”

  “He said his name was Erwan.”

  Clelia went hot and cold at the same time. She tried very hard to appear normal when she said, “What did he say?”

  “He asked if you could meet him.”

  Her palms felt sticky. “Did he say where?”

  “Uh ... he said he’d wait for you at Josselin’s old house.”

  Clelia stared at him. Her body had turned into a pillar of salt. She couldn’t move or speak. Aware of Siril’s questioning glance, she forced a smile onto her face.

  “What time did he call?”

  Siril scratched his head. “I can’t be sure exactly, but it wasn’t so long ago. Maybe two hours.”

  “Okay,” Clelia said brightly. Her voice sounded tinny to her own ears. “Thank you.”

  Even as everything inside of her urged her to run, she walked across the front yard at a normal pace so as not to raise Siril’s suspicions. Her heart was beating fast. Erwan was safe. Erwan knew she was all right. He had found her, as she knew he would.

  She took the bike and pedaled as hard as she could. She didn’t take the road to Josselin. She took the D11 to Larmor-Baden.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  It had taken too long to cycle to Larmor-Baden. Instead of spending an hour to the village of Josselin and back as planned, Clelia arrived more than sixty minutes later on the crossroad to Larmor. From there it was a short distance to Josselin’s old house, and as she neared, her heart beat with loud thumps from more than just the exercise. Soon she would see Erwan and he would know that she was safe and happy. Her joy would be complete. Almost. The only remaining stumbling block was Lupien.

  Stopping in front of the big house, memories of the time when Josselin had locked her inside flooded her mind with both trepidation and tenderness. Although the experience had been traumatic, Josselin had never harmed her. She now understood how he had tried to protect her, even then, when he was supposed to have been hunting her.

  She could never avoid the shiver that ran over her body every time she looked up at the dark house, thinking about the unimaginable that had happened there. Like every time her heart clenched for Josselin when she thought about the cruel history.

  Suppressing another shudder, she opened the garden gate and pushed the bike to the porch. The front door stood wide open. Erwan was expecting her. She left the bike on the grass and ran up the steps. Erwan probably understood as well as Josselin had that the old proclaimed haunted house was one of the safest places to meet. No one would dare to go there.

  The inside of the house was dark despite the winter sun that still shone outside. All the windows were shuttered. Clelia paused in the entrance for her eyes to adjust.

  “Erwan?” she said softly.

  She removed her coat and left it on the chair by the door. A light shone from the landing on the stairs. She was making her way to the kitchen when she heard the floorboards creak above. Backtracking, she glanced up the staircase and felt another shiver run up and down her spine.

  “Erwan?”

  Clelia climbed the stairs slowly, following the sound she had heard. She paused on the first floor landing, hesitant to move forward. Although all the visual remains of that horrible day had been removed, she knew this is where it had happened, where Josselin’s father had killed his family. She remembered Josselin’s expression when he had told her about it and felt renewed compassion for her husband. No wonder white streaks had turned up in his hair overnight.

  Forcing the terrifying thoughts from her mind, she took two steps forward. From where she stood, she had a visual of the open front door, and somehow it gave her a sense of reassurance. She wasn’t trapped. She wasn’t locked in. Clelia was just about to call out to Erwan again when she heard a shuffling behind the door nearest to her. Erwan ... he was here. She made for the door, but before she could reach it, it opened, and the man who stepped out made her suck in her breath.

  She stared at him in confusion. “You?”

  “Ah,” he gave her a charming smile, “we meet again, Little Red Riding Hood of the woods.”

  This didn’t feel right. What was the journalist doing in Josselin’s house? Where was Erwan?

  She reiterated. “What are you doing here?”

  “I was waiting for you,” he said, as if it was something she should have known.

  “I don’t want to talk about the fires. I already told you so.”

  He tilted his head and gave her a level look. “All right.”

  His cooperation confused her more. The last time she had run into him, he had been pushing her to the point of being rude. She didn’t know him at all, but his easy acceptance of her refusal seemed out of character.

  “If you’re not here to talk about the fires, then what do you want?” she said. “Where is Erwan?”

  His smile was painted on, like one of those on the face of a porcelain doll. “Which question shall I answer first?” He tapped his chin with his forefinger. “Mmm. Let’s see.” His expression was one of mock concentration. “Let’s start with a proper introduction, shall we?” The way in which his eyes flashed didn’t look good. The gleam of excitement she caught there made him appear cruel instead of friendly. “I’m Lupien,” he said. “I do believe you’ve heard about me.”

  Her mind was stuck on his name. The rest of the words formed what she knew was a sentence, but she barely registered its meaning. That one word he had uttered started spinning around Clelia. His name echoed in her brain. She could hardly believe her ears. The man from the forest ... the journalist... It couldn’t be.

  He regarded her with cold interest. “I see it comes as a shock. Did you really not expect me?”

  Her body felt weak and her knees shook. Clelia prayed for strength, hoping that her legs wouldn’t fail her. She was facing the man who had every intention of killing her, and she had no means of defending herself, except for the little knowledge that Josselin had given her. She pinched her eyes shut, trying to hold onto the good and not to give in to fea
r.

  “Ah,” he touched his hand to his forehead, “where are my manners? The introduction isn’t complete. You must be Clelia. Aren’t you going to give your daddy a kiss?”

  This time his declaration hit her like a punch in the stomach. Her composure faltered as she stumbled a step backward. Where her mind had seemed incapable of functioning only a few seconds ago, it kick-started back into action with a million thoughts assaulting her all at the same time. Her father. Her mother’s rapist. The man Erwan had warned her about, who had said he would be back for her when the fires started. Cain’s opposition. Josselin’s enemy. Many questions floated in and out of her head, but she could formulate none. She could only stare at him with sorrow.

  “You look so much like your mother,” he said. There was no pride in his voice. “She was such a pretty thing, a pleasure to fuck, and she did put up a great fight. I’ve always found resistance a turn-on.”

  Clelia swallowed away the dryness in her throat. “Why?”

  She had to think, had to find a way to save herself.

  “Why what?” he said coldly. “You have to be more specific with your questions. Your lack of assertiveness disappoints me. I’m a firestarter, not a mind reader. I believe that’s Cain’s level of expertise.”

  “Why did you rape her? Why destroy her life and those of her loved ones?” Even as she uttered the question, it all became painfully clear. “Was it because you needed a new firestarter whose power you could steal? There weren’t enough on earth, so you decided to create one?”

  It was ridicule and Clelia’s voice shook with each syllable. She didn’t feel anger, only pain and rejection.

  “You catch on fast. Your mother was a firestarter–one of the strongest. I’ve spent my life tracking them all, taking their art to make mine stronger. Your mother’s gift was powerful, enough to enhance mine beyond compare, but I saw another opportunity. If I could plant my seed in her womb, combine our genes, and create someone with a gift stronger than hers and mine together, I could come back when that gift was mature and harvest it.”

  Clelia shook her head. “You made her pregnant with me, just so you could come back and kill me?”

  He tilted his head. “Something like that.”

  Clelia looked around, panic making her feel nauseous. “Where is Erwan?”

  He inclined his head the other way. “Are you seriously concerned about an old fisherman who is not even related to you by blood?”

  She almost laughed hysterically. “Should I have been concerned about you, the man who raped my mother and created me, abandoned me, and now is back to kill me?”

  He studied his nails. “You are so terribly emotional, Clelia. You have to admit, my plan was ingenious. I had it all worked out to the very last detail, even to the date of your mother’s ovulation. I could smell the bitch in heat from a mile.”

  Bile rose in Clelia’s throat for the evil in the creature who had created her.

  “Her name was Katik,” she said softly.

  He flicked imaginary fluff from his sleeve. “Whatever.”

  Disbelief at his unaffected attitude filled her. “She died giving birth to me. You killed her.”

  “But of course.” He lifted his brow. “Didn’t you know? All of the mothers who have ever given birth to a gifted baby have died.” His lip lifted in one corner to reveal his teeth. “That’s why they’re called forbidden babies.”

  She frowned. “What ... what are you saying?”

  From his gloating expression, she gathered that he enjoyed the distress his words inflicted. “No mother has ever survived a forbidden baby birth.”

  Clelia felt for the rail behind her and grabbed it with both hands to support herself. If what Lupien had said was true, it meant that she could never have a baby with Josselin, unless she was willing to sacrifice her life. The grief of the knowledge lashed at her. It left a deep, dark hole in her heart.

  She lifted her eyes slowly to Lupien’s. She realized what he was doing. He was trying to make her angry, to upset her, to twist the good in her into something he could use. Instead of allowing the news to torture her, she forced her mind to go somewhere else.

  “Where is Erwan?” she said again.

  Lupien smiled. He lifted his arm to the door through which he had exited. “After you.”

  She stared at the door hesitantly. Out here, on the landing, with the open front door downstairs, she felt slightly better about having a chance at escape. To be inside a closed room with Lupien wasn’t a good idea.

  She lifted her chin. “If Erwan is really in there, bring him out here.”

  He grinned. “Getting brave, daddy’s little girl? I like it. Dare suits my offspring better than the sickly, shy submissiveness I sniffed on you the first time I saw you.”

  He turned abruptly and entered the room. The quick movement made her jump. Clelia was too much on edge to focus. She took deep breaths, trying to calm herself.

  When Lupien exited again, all hope of getting her nerves under control vanished. He carried a chair on which Erwan sat, tied up and gagged, as if it weighed nothing more than a wet fish, and flopped it down in front of her.

  Clelia gasped. She could only stare at Erwan with a mixture of relief that he was alive, and angst for his and her own, fate.

  “Here’s your precious Erwan,” Lupien said, plucking the rags and the tape that had held it in place from Erwan’s mouth.

  Erwan flinched, but not a sound came from his lips. He regarded Lupien with much hatred as he moved his jaw.

  “Now, this was an easy fish to catch,” Lupien said, rounding Erwan’s chair. “The old man thought he could hide from me by island hopping. The minute I showed my face in town, he came running out of his hiding hole like an old dog with its tail behind his legs to avenge his daughter.” He bent over Erwan. “Still angry that I ... how shall I put it...” he flicked his hand in the air, “...deflowered your fire witch and fucked her out of her honor?”

  Erwan’s lips pulled back over his teeth, but he held his tongue.

  Lupien twirled to face Clelia, making her jerk again. “You were a tougher cookie to crumble. The way you disappeared almost made me proud. I could have gone running after you, but I knew your beloved Josselin would do all the work for me. All I had to do was sit back and wait for him to hunt you down. Has he fucked you yet?” His mouth lifted when she flinched. “Yes. He fucked you. Good. That’ll make it all the sadder for him when I destroy you.”

  “Leave him out of this,” Clelia said.

  Lupien’s mouth fell open in a theatrical gesture. “Leave him out of this? Oh, but he’s part of the subplot, don’t you see? When I’m done taking what belongs to me, the blood-sucking Josselin will be easy to defeat. With Josselin gone, Cain will be crushed like a fat tick bursting under my shoe.”

  “And what exactly belongs to you?” Clelia said, stalling for time.

  “Why, you, of course. I only lent you life to use you as breeding ground. You should get over that. Your distress at being an object serving my purpose is getting boring.”

  Erwan spoke for the first time. “Let her go.”

  Lupien threw his head back and laughed. “Or else?”

  “You’ve got me now,” Clelia said, “so let him go.”

  Lupien’s grin turned into a sneer. He looked from Clelia to Erwan. “The two of you make me sick.”

  Anger flashed in his eyes, and in a movement too fast to be entirely human, Lupien withdrew a revolver from his pocket and pressed it against Erwan’s temple.

  Clelia stopped breathing all together. Her hands lifted in a pleading motion and it was only then that she noticed how badly they were shaking.

  Lupien rubbed his chin through Erwan’s hair. “Shall we restage the spectacle that Josselin’s father so beautifully pulled off...” he glanced around, “...right here? His brains were here.” Lupien caressed the wall with his free hand. “And the bitch was just there,” he motioned to Clelia, “exactly where you’re standing.” He closed hi
s eyes and rolled his head back. A visible tremor ran over his body. Lupien grabbed his crotch and groaned loudly. “Ah, yes, just the thought turns me on. What a piece of art.”

  “You’re a sick man,” Clelia said, her voice filled with pity.

  Lupien lifted his hand to the ceiling. “The breeding ground of evil.” He licked his lips in a disgusting motion. “I think I may stay here for a while, after my job is done, take a little holiday and burn a few things.” He shivered with unconcealed pleasure.

  Without warning, Lupien’s show ended. He cocked the gun and pressed the barrel until it dented Erwan’s flesh. “I won’t do it fast. I’ll scale him like a fish, cutting his skin off piece by piece, and then I’ll gut him. That would be an appropriate way for a fisherman to die, wouldn’t it?”

  Clelia’s pain, pity, and fear started making way for disgust and anger. It boiled up inside of her and there was nothing she could do to prevent the feelings from entering her heart. As the first, tiny bubble of fury popped to release its poison, a small ball of fire sprouted up at Lupien’s feet.

  At first Clelia only stared at it in confusion, thinking that she was seeing Lupien in action, but then her eyes widened with panic as she felt the incredible feeling that reached from the tips of her fingers, ran through her organs, and touched her mind. Everything suddenly seemed so clear. Her senses were heightened. A new feeling of strength flowed through her veins.

  She looked from Erwan to Lupien. Just a second was enough to tell her what they were feeling. Erwan stared at her with that look of regret and knowledge she had seen on his face when he had told her about her mother and Lupien’s dark eyes gleamed with satisfaction.

  Her hands flew to her head as reality slowly set in. Coldness enveloped her, an iciness descended on her soul, and in the same instance, the fire died.

  Lupien cracked his neck to the side, the bones clicking audibly into place. He moved the revolver around to Erwan’s left eye, placing the barrel over the eyeball. “They say a bullet can shoot a clear hole through the socket without killing instantly.”