by S D Wasley
“Albion doesn’t know anything about us. The gifts or the chamber,” I told Léon quickly.
He nodded as my cousin emerged from the kitchen with a tray of coffees.
“This is the first good coffee I have had since I arrived,” Léon said after taking a sip. “Good, strong coffee.”
“I call it the masochisto.” Albion shot me a smirk. “Are you on holiday? Or emigrating?” My cousin was seriously taken with Léon’s brown-skin-meets-green-eyes thing.
“On holiday. I live in Québec.”
Albion asked him a question in French to which Léon gabbled an answer. I listened, uncomprehending, while they fell into a full conversation in French until I sighed loudly and plonked my coffee cup on the table.
“Sorry, Frankie.” Albion laughed. “No more Français.” He winked at Léon.
I rolled my eyes. He was so smooth. Léon glanced at me and I detected a little impatience. Pissed off that I’d stopped them from speaking French? Or did he want to get back to the private conversation with me?
“Are you free this afternoon, Léon?” Albion asked. “We have a spare ticket to an exhibition and we’d love for you to join us.”
Léon accepted readily. Albion gave him another coffee and placed him in an outdoor chair to admire the garden while we changed.
“Albion,” I hissed, “who are you to invite him along? What if I didn’t want him there?”
Albion grinned in reply and handed me some clothes. “I paid for the tickets and I can invite whoever I want. Wear this. It’s perfect for the gallery.”
“We hardly know him.”
“He thinks he knows you. Or likes you.”
“He’s a lonely tourist.”
“Sure.”
“I think you like him,” I shot back.
“I do. He’s yummy,” Albion said frankly. “But he’s not my way inclined. Are you uncomfortable about him coming along because of Cain?”
“No.”
“Then what’s the problem? Let’s show a poor lonely tourist some sights downtown.”
Chapter 5: Nexu
I changed into Albion’s choice of outfit and it was only when Léon’s eyes ran over me that I realised he’d chosen something snug and a little sexy for me to wear. I cursed my cousin silently and wished for the umpteenth time that he would give Cain a chance. We took the bus into the city, Léon openly enjoying Albion’s tour guide-style narrative as we drove, interjecting with keen questions in a way that was actually a little endearing. I texted Cain on the way:
Léon turned up at my place because Owen studying all day and Alby invited him to museum.
Cool. See you tonight, was Cain’s reply.
I was surprised and relieved. Maybe Cain had already moved beyond his suspicions.
The exhibition showcased artefacts of the ancient Celtic culture. There were drawings, models, and objects from Druidic stone circles and burial mounds, rituals, sacrifices, and festivals. I inspected a transcript of the writing of Saint Columba that described Christ as his Druid, with a picture of Jesus on the cross alongside other key prophets to illustrate the point. As I looked at the painting of Christ I crossed myself unconsciously, a habit I might never shake, and in my peripheral vision saw Léon cross himself at the same moment. We exchanged a long glance.
“You are Catholic, too?” he asked.
“Yes.”
A kind of understanding passed between us. He stepped closer and smiled as he leaned in to say, “I knew there was something about you that I recognised.”
“The guilt, huh?” I grinned and he laughed.
“Check this out.” Albion pulled me by the arm to look at the model of the stone circle of Gwynedd in Wales. “I got a blowjob there once,” he whispered, out of Léon’s hearing.
“Gawd, Alby!” I pulled away, half-disgusted and half-amused.
Léon joined us and gazed at the stone model intently. Albion, still cackling, moved away to look at an etching of a bloody ritual.
“I’ve read about the Druids,” Léon told me quietly. “I suspect they were like us.”
I looked at him doubtfully. “They sacrificed people,” I reminded him.
“They did, but remember that everyone understands our gifts differently. Perhaps they believed sacrificing people to their god would help sustain their gifts. You know they believed in the existence of an Otherworld they could visit in their dreams or see in visions?”
I stared at him, shocked, and then looked back at the stone circle.
“They practiced sensory deprivation,” he went on. “They would sequester themselves alone in a cavern beneath the ground or in one of their burial mounds, and lie in the dark in order to awaken their psychic abilities through rebirth.”
“What? That’s like ...” I was going to say it was like our underground cavern meeting place but stopped myself. He already knew. “Owen needs to hear about this,” I muttered.
“Owen and I have been discussing things like this since we met online months ago. He knows just as much, if not more, than me now.”
“How do you maintain your beliefs?” I blurted, unable to contain the question that had been buzzing inside me since I’d seen him cross himself.
Léon tilted his head slightly and gave me a quizzical look. “Why do you ask this, Francesca? Owen told me you once believed those who had changed and come into their new abilities were saints?” I didn’t reply, reddening. “I also believed that once.”
Relief coursed through me. I wasn’t the only one. “But not anymore?”
“Yes and no. I believe our kind has always been in existence and perhaps always will be. I am of Owen’s opinion that we have been represented in writing as higher beings across a number of different dogma. Saints in Hindu, gods in ancient Egypt, angels in Catholicism, and so on.”
“Do you still have your faith?” I asked, and then to make sure he knew precisely what I was asking added, “Do you attend Mass and believe in Christ our Saviour and the Blessed Virgin?”
“You saw me make the sign of the cross,” Léon said, smiling. “I could as soon relinquish those things as I could relinquish my language or my blood type. But I have a different understanding of them now.”
I wanted to talk about this more but Albion nudged in between us and said, “Are you two actually going to look at this exhibition, or just have your little tête-à-tête all afternoon?”
We hurried on to view the other exhibits. I looked at the displays in a whole different light with Léon’s words fresh in my mind. Afterwards, Albion took us to the bar he’d mentioned and bought us a bottle of wine to share. His boyfriend turned up soon after with a group of workmates so Albion went to sit at their table. Léon appeared relieved. He turned his attention to me, refilling my wine glass, and then his own while nearby girls ogled him openly.
“That must get annoying,” I remarked, tipping my head toward the girls.
“What?” He looked over and they hastily pulled their gazes away.
I laughed. “That. The staring.”
“Why do they stare?”
Did he really not know? Maybe he was considered average-looking in his own country. Not likely. “I don’t think they see quite what I see but they recognise something special. Helen saw it on Cain before she even found out who he was.”
“Saw what?”
“You know.” Was he playing dumb? “The way you guys look after you transform.”
He frowned, remaining silent for a long moment. “What do you see?”
“Well, when I met Cain for the first time I saw straight away he was special. He’d already transformed. But before Jude, Owen, and Nadine transformed they looked like normal people. With Owen, he almost fell in front of a train. Someone bumped him and he slipped from the platform. It was only his bag strap getting hooked on a sign that saved him.” I sipped my wine. “That day he had a full vision, his first. He and Cain were able to intervene and save two little boys from being drowned by their father.”
“Ah!” Léon’s face lit up. “I recall the details of this rescue. Owen told me. I believe you helped identify the clues.”
I tried to remember. “Maybe. Nothing major.” Léon’s brow creased again in incredulity but I hurried on. “Anyway, Owen transformed at some point during all of that. It could have been when he nearly fell off the platform, or maybe when he had his first full vision, I’m not sure. Maybe it was even when he actually stepped in and saved those kids. But honestly? I think it was when he nearly died. It seems the near-disaster is what triggers the transformation. Cain had a motorbike accident. Jude got beaten up by―” I stopped myself abruptly. I couldn’t tell him about the guy who died. It might put Jude at risk. I stammered on. “And Nadine was almost assaulted by some creep who drugged her.”
“Yes, the near disaster is what incites the change,” Léon agreed, his expression thoughtful. “For me it happened years ago. I was out running one morning when a man with a knife confronted me. He wanted my phone and money. I fought back, perhaps foolishly. He stabbed.” Léon paused.
“What happened? Were you badly hurt?”
He considered me for a few moments before he went on, perhaps deciding he could trust me with the truth. “I was stabbed three times. I struggled to make it to a house. An ambulance was called. I lost a kidney and I was very lucky the surgeons could save me.” He leaned back and lifted his shirt. Low on his tanned, taut abdomen, half hidden by the band of his underpants, was a scar. My cheeks heated up. This was way too intimate. Léon twisted around to show me another two marks on his back. I remembered when Cain showed me his scars and what it had meant to me. The feelings evoked by Léon’s simple action alarmed me, especially when he searched my face, studying my reaction. He dropped his shirt, not taking his eyes from mine.
“I know you were shot,” he said.
My hand went reflexively to my shoulder and I fidgeted with my sleeve, adjusting it to cover my pale pink scar more fully.
“And yet you did not transform that night.”
“I won’t transform. I’m normal.”
Léon’s eyebrow crease returned. He gazed at me in silence for so long I became nervous.
“Francesca,” he said at last, “you say you could see Cain was special. You say you saw the transformations of the other three. What does this mean?”
“You can’t see it?” The shock pulled me out of that uncomfortable moment.
“See what, exactly?”
“When they transformed, their bodies changed. Their appearances.”
He frowned again. “How so?”
“Well, Owen was kind of pudgy. A little timid and shy-looking. When he changed, he got sort of hard. Literally overnight. Buff, I guess you’d say. He looked wise, not shy. Steady. And he glowed, like he does now. Not all the time, obviously. You can’t see the glow every single time you look at him. But something ignites in him every so often. The rescue, maybe? A challenge. Or it could be heightened emotion. Risk.” I couldn’t read Léon’s expression.
“And Nadine?”
“Same thing. She was sort of average before she transformed―quite pretty I guess, but nothing out of the ordinary. Then overnight she became stunning. Beautiful. Powerful and fearless. Her eyes, especially―they look like she sees something beyond here and now.”
“And Jude? And Cain?”
“Jude was seriously injured and healed within hours. He was bleeding, a head injury and broken ribs. But when he woke up the next day he’d transformed and healed. His face was glowing. With Cain, well, he always looked special. The first time I saw him I couldn’t stop staring. I reacted to the sight of him but not because I detected anything otherworldly about him, not at first. I just figured he was, I don’t know, the most incredible-looking guy I’d ever seen.”
Léon’s expression clouded slightly. “You and Cain ...”
“Yes, we’re together,” I said quickly. I didn’t want him under any illusions about how things were.
“For how long?”
“A few months now.”
He faltered his words a little as he asked, “Is it serious?”
Warmth rose in my cheeks. “Yes.”
“And Helen?”
I stopped, glass halfway to my lips. “Helen what?”
Léon’s gaze dropped to his wineglass. “Nothing. I interrupted you, sorry. You say he looked, what was it? Incredible?”
“Uh, yeah.” I felt silly. “But I didn’t know what was going on back then. I didn’t know the secret about their gifts, so I assumed he was an especially good-looking guy. I didn’t realise it was anything other than my attraction to him, not until I saw his halo―” I stopped abruptly, realising what I’d said.
“Halo?” Léon’s voice was sharp.
I gazed at the table. “Uh, I was thinking of it as a halo.”
“A halo. Like the halo of a saint?”
I squirmed. “Yeah. The glow you guys get sometimes.”
“You mean me, too?” This surprised him.
“Yeah. Yes, you’ve got it, too.”
He was silent for some time. “What do I look like to you, Francesca?”
There was no way I was going to explain how magnificent Léon looked to his face. I shrugged. “You look like they do.”
Another long silence. “Francesca, I don’t think you understand that you see something I cannot. I see ordinary people when I look at Owen, Jude, Nadine, and Cain.”
“They don’t look beautiful?” I was shocked. “Not even Nadine?”
He lifted a shoulder casually. “She is not beautiful to me. I cannot see the divine beauty you describe. She lacks even natural beauty, such as you have.”
I didn’t even register the compliment. I was too busy staring into space, trying to work out what this meant. Okay, it looked like I had my answer. I’d asked Cain a couple of times before whether other people could see his aura of holy power. Not holy, I corrected myself quickly. His ... unique ability. He’d responded with a puzzled smile, as if he didn’t know what I meant. And yet they always knew when one of their number transformed. They saw something. Maybe it wasn’t the same thing I saw, as I’d always assumed.
I checked with Léon. “But you can tell if they have the gift, right?”
“Those who have transformed?” He thought about it. “Yes. I see a peace in their eyes that tells me they are sure of their own abilities. Helen and Liz do not have that peace as yet. Nor do you. Aside from that, I cannot see anything extraordinary about the ones who have transformed.”
“I told you, I’m not going to transform,” I said. “I’m not like them.”
“Why do you think that?”
“Because Cain never saw my face.” He opened his mouth to speak but seemed to change his mind. “It’s all right. I’m used to the idea now.” I gave him a quick smile.
“You know you have a gift though, yes?”
I laughed. “I wouldn’t quite call it a gift. I know I’m pretty good at putting the clues together but it’s not like I’ve ever been able to do enough to effect a rescue. I can be helpful sometimes, that’s all.”
Léon looked angry. “Is that how they make you feel? No, Francesca, you have a gift. Without having yet transformed you can already detect patterns and factors in these incidents to move the visionaries closer to intervening. That’s remarkable. But more than that, you can see the transformations. You can see past what’s before one’s eyes, to the inner heart. To the soul. You can see our gifts.”
Could it be true? I certainly saw the light on Cain and the other ones who’d transformed. None of them could see it, if what Léon was saying was correct. That was mine alone. Delight surged in my heart and I immediately tried to calculate ways this could help in our rescue efforts … and drew a blank. I frowned.
“But what’s the point of it?” I said, crestfallen. “The ones who have visions, they already recognise each other. They don’t need me to help identify them. Like you said, you can see the difference when they’ve transformed, e
ven if it’s just because they have a greater sense of peace, or whatever. And Cain’s already seen their faces, anyway.”
Léon’s mouth curved up in amusement. “Must there be a point, immediately, and always? Francesca, you have purpose. You may not understand it yet but it is there. You need not doubt yourself. I don’t doubt you.”
I couldn’t help a smile at his words, but then I noticed the way he was looking at me. His eyes, locked onto mine, held something far greater than amicable affection. My delight turned swiftly to confusion, and then guilt. I had to pull back from this. I didn’t want Léon to think I felt anything beyond friendship for him. I was thrilled and honoured that he considered me special―gifted―but that was it. The image of the scar across his muscled abdomen flashed into my mind and guilt stabbed at me again. I grabbed my phone and looked down, playing with the message log to hide my expression.
“Francesca, I have to tell you something,” Léon said. “I need your help.”
“My help?”
“Yes. For many months the people in my group received information about an event but we cannot find out when or where it will happen.”
I forgot my qualms, intrigued. “What event?”
“There is a child, a boy, and he is crying in pain. He calls for help.”
“What details do you have?”
“I have not yet experienced a premonition but I know it is projected for some time around Christmas. Tania has heard carol singing. Sara has heard screams and confusion and the crackling of flames. Yousef also says he felt great heat as from a fire. He heard the child calling and weeping.”
“The most obvious explanation would be a fire in a church somewhere,” I said. “I don’t suppose you wrote any of these down?”
“No. I am stupid, very stupid. I should have insisted they write down the details but it happened before my group was split up. Before I met Owen and learned about you, Francesca, with your special gift.”
Ah, this was why he’d been so interested in me. Phew. It wasn’t romantic, as Albion had assumed. “Do you have any clues about where it might be taking place?”