“More than likely because we’ll be attacked.”
“Two Blackatters are better than one. I think we’ll survive. Just wear my father’s usual expression of discontent and you’ll ward off anyone that even thinks of harming us.”
His scent rolled through the chilly evening breeze and struck my nostrils downwind. I could still smell the faint traces of his scent hidden under my father’s, teasing me with memories of the previous night.
‘Focus! This is what I came here for. I have to focus!’
5
I wish I could say Paris was the city I remembered it to be. Romantic, beautiful, vivacious, artistic, and captivating. My newly acquired lycan senses made sure that I didn’t experience the same charms that I once did. The river Seine smelled like a sewer, the homeless people left their scent of urine all over the streets, and pollution made my nose curl the second we strayed away from Margaux’s flat.
I ignored the agonizing pain brewing at the bottom of my feet and shooting up into my knees. I could only afford to rest them for so long. Perhaps a minute or two for them to heal then I was back to walking the streets of Paris. The stars were barely visible under the city’s bright lights. It looked nothing like the brilliant night sky at the academy. The tourists grew tired after midnight and gradually the streets became quiet enough for me to think clearly. Which didn’t last long. The second I wasn’t distracted by the annoying parade of people taking selfies with their cell phones and shuffling about the sidewalks looking for the cheapest French wine, Rodrick’s scent hit me from behind. I would steer my eyes behind me every so often to see my father walking a few paces away. Close enough to help if something was amiss and far enough away to not look like we were together.
Rodrick’s disguise was remarkable. He even managed to copy the thinly veiled scar close to my father’s left earlobe. It wasn’t until I discovered my scars from Dirk’s slashing me wouldn’t heal that I realized what it was. My father got into a fight with another Blackatter at some point and got claw marks behind his ear. He was lucky his black hair covered most of them.
‘He probably deserved it,’ I thought as I picked up the pace and walked a little faster.
Winter was coming around the corner and I could feel the air bite me a touch harder as the hours went by. I pulled my trench coat closer over my body. Rodrick walked in silence, thought in silence, and followed me in silence. I, meanwhile, let my magic stir just under the folds of my skin, lurking in the background so no one would notice. And to my surprise, it didn’t warn me of any danger. I half expected it to jut out of my hands the second I took to the streets and started exploring. The only thing I could imagine was that part of my psyche thought of Paris as extremely dangerous because it was the city that took my brother’s life. I knew better now. He was alive. In some form. And it wasn’t the city’s fault that he succumbed to the Dolch Erbe.
We caught one of the final metro trains to Montmartre Cemetery, Sacre Coeur, and parts of Paris I had never visited even when I lived here. Where artists gathered to paint in the streets and whores once went out in search of customers stumbling out of pubs and cafés. Even as I walked by the towering crypts of Frenchmen long passed in the cemetery, nothing stood out to me or made my magic stir from my skin. We worked our way around the Champs d’Élysée, the Eiffel Tower, and then walked the cobblestone walkway along the Seine.
There were still a few people strolling around the city after dark. Those who weren’t alone or were too much of a tourist to know any better. That could have been my new instincts protecting me now that I knew vampires, witches, and lycan walked the night. But I couldn’t help but look on the tourists still walking about at 1 AM as complete and utter fools. I even scowled at a few of the men walking about with their arms over their woman’s shoulder or draped around their waist.
‘You’re putting her in danger, do you know that you ignorant bastard?’
Of course, they didn’t know. I didn’t either a matter of months ago.
My patience waned as the air grew chillier and a few of the men let their eyes wander away from their girls hanging around their arm and right toward me. I wasn’t projecting my scent and I definitely wasn’t on the hunt. The smell of human flesh was enticing, to say the least, but I was there for a more important matter. That being my brother’s future and my need to break the damn curse that was making me continue to have dirty thoughts of the man disguised as my father walking behind me.
‘Why don’t you keep that form? I won’t think of getting close to you as long as you look like my arsehole of a father.’
I darted my eyes away as another man walked by with his eyes glued to me, making me feel increasingly uncomfortable when he nearly walked the woman holding his hand into a pole on the sidewalk. She smacked him across the face when he continued to turn and look at my backside as I walked away even after she nearly fell over. I heard her shout some French curse words at him and threaten to march back to their flat when I walked across the street to get away from them.
“Tired yet?” Rodrick asked from behind me.
“I have at least a few more hours before dawn. I intend to use them.”
“You’re a walking hazard, you know that?”
I stopped to glare at him. It took me a second to recall who I was speaking to given he was using my father’s voice. “I can’t help it if the guy was a leech who stares at other women.”
“That was the fourth one in ten minutes who was distracted by you. The last one nearly walked into a cab parked on the street corner.”
“Not my problem.”
I turned around to continue walking and pulled the hood of my trench coat further down over my face, concealing my eyes and hoping no other men walking about would notice me.
‘Wait? Is Rodrick annoyed that other men are looking at me?’
I decided to test the theory and let my hood down.
“Pull it back up,” he ordered me from behind. “We don’t need to draw any more attention.”
‘Am I supposed to believe none of the women have looked at you either? I mean… my dad?’
The thought made me cringe all the way down to my boots.
‘Gross.’
I stopped dead in my tracks as the soft sound of whispers greeted my ears. The same sort of whispering I heard at the ritual site in the forest. My hair wafted behind me in the chilly breeze as I sniffed the air and listened as closely as I could. I wasn’t in danger and my magic wasn’t pushing out of my hands. I had it right under the tips of my fingers where I wanted it. And yet, what I was sensing was something I couldn’t quite place. Something not of this world.
“Lycanthrope died here,” I said, walking about in a circle as I tried to make more sense of what I was hearing.
“Not just lycanthrope,” Rodrick answered in my father’s deep voice. “Witchlings too.”
I looked down at my feet. The sound was coming from under the cement sidewalk. I reached down and touched it, feeling a surge of energy pulsate from the concrete and into my hands. However cold I was minutes ago, it was worse now. The sweat from walking all over the city went ice cold, making me shiver under the thick leather of my trench coat.
“Do all areas where we’ve been murdered feel this way?” I asked him.
“No, certainly not. They’d be everywhere considering we’ve been around for a very long time. And most others aren’t necessarily fans of us.”
‘Yes, I know. We’re the villains.’
A half-smile graced my face as I wiped my hands together, getting rid of the dirt from the concrete. When I stood up, Musée d’Orsay was standing right in front of me with banners promoting their latest exhibition. I knew the museum well. Dirk took me there countless times to see the masterpieces. His love for Monet knew no bounds and he had to make frequent visits to his favorite artists. It took us several weeks but we devoured most of the Louvre. Then he moved onto Versailles Palace and its luxurious gardens. Finally, Musée d’Orsay, the museum he claimed was
a jewel of the city and far superior to the Louvre. I begged to differ once I saw the extravagance of Napolean’s old apartments inside the Louvre.
I approached the stairs leading up to the entrance of Musée d’Orsay with caution. Rodrick moved behind me but maintained his distance, giving me an occasional glance as I peeked around.
The doors were locked and the rush of tourists going in and out was long gone. I walked right up to the glass of the entrance to see nothing but the familiar ticket booths at the entrance.
The entire area made my heart feel heavy. As though the screams of countless people had pleaded with the divine for mercy only to be struck down in the most brutal ways. I closed my eyes to discover my hearing was even more enhanced. I could hear their voices. The cries as they begged for forgiveness and prayed for mercy. Their families trying to reach for them as they were dragged toward their deaths by public execution. The onlookers watched with vengeful glee, rejoicing in their suffering and eager to see them murdered in every way imaginable. Burning, hanging, the guillotine, and so many more that I didn’t want to bear witness to.
‘This is going to wreck my sleep for weeks. I better not have visions of how they died.’
“You’ll naturally feel areas where magical beings have suffered,” Rodrick said as he leaned against a post by the Seine river flowing beside him with his arms crossed over his chest. He faced away from me and let my enhanced lycan hearing absorb his words from where he stood. “Your magic is in tune with other magical beings. It will know when you’re in an area that caused lycan and witchlings suffering. Maybe even vampires.”
I kept my attention away from him, doing my best to maintain the facade that he wasn’t with me even though the streets were practically empty now. If anything, it was helping me keep my focus on the search and not on ripping off Rodrick’s shirt. Especially when he was in a shifted state as my father.
“Why?” I asked. “Does magic sense other magic?”
“It can, but not always. Crowning magic is different and much more powerful.”
I lifted my hand to touch the glass of the exterior and shut my eyes once more. The skin inside my trench coat wasn’t cold anymore. Hot sweat dripped down my front and threatened to burn the skin over my thighs. My hair lightly blew behind my head as if a wind had come from the wrong direction. The scent of sulfur touched my nostrils and made them flare.
I knew my kind had died here. They had even been burned here. But whatever I was sensing wasn’t the smell of people being burned. It was far larger. An inferno of flames and the sound of glass and marble shattering to the ground.
I backed away from the glass and stared up at the tall structure. I came this far for answers and only found myself asking more questions.
“What is it?” Rodrick asked me.
“It’s a museum. But I don’t think it always was.”
“You’re right, it wasn’t,” he answered. “It was a train station decades back.”
I shook my head. “No. That’s not it. It was something else before that. Something that burned down.”
I must have said something right because Rodrick turned around and took a few steps up the stairs to the entryway, no longer caring about the perception of onlookers should some stranger walk by and see us together.
“Riley,” he said my first name and took me out of my trance.
When I looked over at him his eyes were locked on my hand. My magic was swirling about it between my fingers like a spider weaving a web. Only this web glowed the more it grew.
“Draw it back into you,” Rodrick ordered me.
“I can’t,” I said, closing my eyes to focus and finding it harder the more I tried. “It senses something. Is it danger? Is something coming?” I twirled about in a circle and tried to see if there was something I missed. I finally gave up and pulled down the sleeves of my trench coat to hide my magic as it crawled up the length of my arm. “Something else happened here.”
Rodrick pushed his hands into his pockets. I thought he was going to remain tight-lipped and not saying anything given I’d become used to him leaving out important details. I was wrong.
“It was a palace,” he said. His face moved in a way that revealed more than he knew. My father had a way of remaining stern even during the most emotional situations. The only time I ever saw it slip right off his face was when the police showed up at the house to tell him my brother had been mugged and murdered in a dark alley in the very city where I stood. Rodrick’s master shifting abilities clearly couldn’t imitate that expression very well because his eyes sparked with excitement. He came closer as I watched recognition crossing his face. “It was burned down by a politically motivated group called the Communards on May 23, 1871.”
‘Jeez, you remember the exact date?’
The Northern Vontex had control over this region during that time,” he continued. “The Southern Vontex in Italy often claims certain southern regions of France as their territory to hunt werewolves but this region was under dispute for over a century after the French Revolution. It became dangerous for all magical beings because the revolutionaries could use any excuse imaginable to capture our kind and publicly execute them.”
“That doesn’t explain why my magic is reacting this way,” I said, shaking my hand relentlessly as the red spiral of light continued to move around my torso and glow through the confines of my trench coat.
Rodrick took my hand in his, forcing my magic to retreat inside my body and pushing it back with his own. My magic sputtered in my hand and finally calmed down enough so I could make it absorb back into my body. I thought the warmth from my magic would disappear after he helped me to force it back in. I was wrong again. His fingers wrapped around mine, nearly covering my whole hand down to my wrist. Then I reminded myself that they were my father’s hands, not Rodrick’s.
‘Yuck.’
I let go as soon as my magic was under control.
“The Vontex was here that day,” he said. “It’s noted in the archives below the library back at the academy. I remember reading about it in the notes of the leader of the Northern Vontex ages ago. He noted that the Dolch Erbe had grown powerful here and were gathering their forces. They would often recruit from local dissident revolutionary groups and show them the truth about the world they lived in. Once they realized that witchlings with healing abilities walked the Earth, there was nothing to stop their zeal for their power and their longing to possess it.”
I had to stop myself from gasping. “This has to be it,” I muttered. “This is where the Dolch Erbe cast the curse.”
I saw my father’s jaw tighten. Rodrick wasn’t about to concede we’d made such a large discovery too quickly. But even he had to admit that he was intrigued by the possibility.
“I’ll take a look at the Dean’s personal logs from that period back at the academy and make a special request to the Southern Vontex for permission to view their historical logs as well. In the meantime, I’ll grant you access to the archives below the library. The leader of each Vontex must always log certain occurrences for future generations to learn from when it comes to leading a pack and engaging in the hunt. There might be something there you can find while I research my end.”
There was nothing in the world that could have stopped my mouth from curving into a smile. For the first time since I arrived at the academy, I felt as though Rodrick was on my side. He was helping me. Not fighting me. And he was even going to help me do more research.
“How sweet.”
Rodrick and I both turned to see Daniella standing a few yards away, appearing from nowhere as if she was a ghost.
“This look doesn’t suit you,” she said to Rodrick. “You don’t carry the same dangerous air that Kenneth Blackburn does.”
“Is that why you were attracted to him?” I snapped. I moved to approach her but Rodrick thrust out his arm and stopped me. “Does a little danger excite a woman like you? It must be a pretty boring existence being second to Margaux Carville
.”
She faked a smile at my insult, pretending as though she didn’t care about me knowing of her secret affair with my father. Rodrick must have seen through it too because he let his magic pierce through his palm to protect me.
Daniella lowered her eyes at me. “I may not be able to order your death or use you as bait for the grandmaster, Riley, but that doesn’t mean you can’t still be useful.”
Rodrick shifted back into his normal form but refused to let me anywhere near her. I wasn’t making it easy for him.
“You think I would ever help the likes of you?” I spat.
“You already did,” she said, casting a beam of magic at the entrance of Musée D’Orsay and lighting up the interior.
When she did I saw something I couldn’t quite explain. The inside of the museum didn’t have paintings or sculptures. I saw her magic light up like a moving picture, revealing what it once looked like inside. An ornate palace held up with white pillars and elegant molding lining the ceiling appeared before me like a mirage. The edge of her bright blue magic glowed around it like a frame. Only the palace wasn’t decorated with lavish furnishings or gold trim like Versailles. It looked as though the inside had been burned to the ground.
Daniella was showing what it looked like after the Communards attacked to get a better picture for herself. Her eyes lit up at the possibility that we had indeed found what she had looked for and couldn’t manage to find.
“If this is indeed the site of the curse’s origin, you did the hard work for me,” she said. “Although, do forgive me if I don’t feel compelled to offer you my gratitude. I only wish I had known years ago that it would take a Blackatter with crowning magic to find it.”
“My father wasn’t enough?” I asked, trying to get a rise out of her.
“How could a man like that be enough for any woman?” she sneered at me. “He couldn’t see beyond saving what’s left of your brother. If there’s anything left to save at all. He belongs to the Dolch Erbe now.”
Rescind Page 5