She resembled a mermaid as she untangled her long blonde hair that stuck to her back as she wet it. She didn’t have her personal belongings with her so she used those that had been laid out for her by her host. She spotted a fruit-scented conditioner on the shelf of the shower stall and opened it. A sweet smell of apricot filled the air. It must have belonged to Nina, the smell suited her perfectly. The conditioner made her hair soft and smooth. She rinsed it for a long time and ran her hands over her body to remove the cream that had covered it.
Her shower was like a therapy that helped her evacuate the intense emotions that had run through her the last few days. As she stepped out of the shower stall, she wiped the mist off the mirror and contemplated herself again. Her female body was beautiful. The scar from her stab wound had completely disappeared. She was exquisite. Angel or no angel, she loved the human she was. This Diane could never make her forget the young and radiant Tara Châvigner that she was. She respected and loved the body in which she lived and refused to abandon it for some transcendental identity, under the pretext that it was only a temporary thing. She was Tara Châvigner. This Diane would have to earn her trust to be able to develop within her.
Once her body was completely dry she dried her hair for several minutes and then tied it into a thick bun before returning to her room. She lay down on the bed and turned off the light. Finally, she closed her eyes and was able to relax. The sheets were soft and the mattress and duvet comfortable. Everything in the apartment seemed to have been designed for the well-being of its inhabitants.
But then, out of nowhere, she felt an alarming presence in the room. Tetanized, she opened her eyes and discovered, hovering over her on the ceiling to the left and right of her bed, two pairs of yellow eyes, glaring at her. A deadly silence reigned in the apartment, making her feel totally alone with these two ghastly creatures.
Terrified, she screamed with all her strength while she desperately searched for the switch on her bedside lamp. When she finally found it, she felt a powerful force lifting her and preventing her from pressing it. She was sure that she was going to die, assassinated by demons.
Then, the light turned on and she found herself in Mark’s arms as he tried to reassure her:
“Calm down,” he said.
Petrified, Tara looked again in the direction of the yellow eyes. What she discovered was two ash-grey angels, large and muscular, watching her from the corners of the room like two giant bats. Dressed in short, dark grey togas, they stared at Tara with their large black and yellow eyes. Their faces were deeply wrinkled, like those of gargoyles. Floating in the emptiness, they stared at her without blinking an eye, their anthracite black wings folded in their backs.
“These are your guards,” he told her softly. “You're too vulnerable right now, we need them to look after you.”
One of the black angels got up and walked through the air to his colleague, passing in front of Tara's bed without paying attention to her. He sat down in the air next to the other angel and whispered something in his ear while giving Tara a diabolical look. The second angel then stared at her with eyes so piercing that she thought he would devour her on the spot. Finally, the second angel began to laugh. Mark whispered in her ear:
“You're going to have to learn to recognize them and get accustomed to their presence...”
The laughing angel called out to Mark:
“You, legionary! Leave us alone with her!”
“No!” begged Tara, clinging to Mark's arm.
But Mark broke free of her hold, leaving her at the mercy of the two black angels. When he closed the door behind himself, the first angel opened his dark wings and flew to her, approaching her face. His skin was a dirty grey color, almost green, his mouth was blood red and his hair black and curly. He smiled, uncovering his sharp teeth that made him look ready to attack. He was monstrous. In Tara's opinion, there was nothing angelic about him. Terrified, she held her breath so as not to surprise him, and thus, hoping to avoid a violent reaction from him.
Then, as if he had been mocking her, he took on a blasé look and sat down above her bed, turning towards his partner:
“She's not very brave for a seraph,” he said scornfully.
The second angel laughed disdainfully as the first angel continued:
“You can sleep in peace, we're not going to hurt you. We’re here to protect you.”
Trembling, Tara didn't move a muscle, she could barely breath. How could she ever trust such monsters? Not to mention in the dark and while she slept.
Noting her lack of reaction, the expression of the black angel next to her became truly frightening. As he frowned, he clenched his teeth like a dog ready to attack. All the muscles in his face were contracted. Suddenly, he threw himself on her and ripped her neck apart with his teeth. She screamed with all her might as she tried to protect herself, but to no avail.
Then, as she raised her head in total disbelief, she realized she hadn’t felt a thing. He had passed through her body without touching her. She now understood what Hugo had tried to explain earlier: they weren’t in the same dimension as she was so they couldn’t touch her. The guard retreated quietly while the second angel laughed out loud.
“You see, we're not going to hurt you... So go to sleep now.”
Still intimidated, she obeyed for fear of upsetting them. She lay trembling in her bed, hiding her head under the covers and refusing to turn off the light. The night seemed endless to her. Her encounter with Emily was the worst thing that had ever happened to her.
Chapter 9
If only for the sake of her cover up she was to meet the baroness, Madeleine would indeed comply without resistance. With her head held high, she had abandoned the piano and went to her private chambers, accompanied by her chambermaid, to prepare for the evening.
Once upstairs, she opened the gigantic oak trunk she had brought over from Paris. It was filled to the brim with precious fabrics and accessories. As for the ball gowns, she hadn't left Paris like a vagabond. Her well-to-do bourgeois family, extremely proud of her marriage to the duke, had done everything in their power to ensure that she left the capital with her head held high. Aware that the provinces didn’t have access to as many fabrics, and that new fashions arrived weeks or even months later, they had put enough into Madeleine's trunks to render even the Queen of Spain envious.
Thus, her wealthy family had arranged for their first duchess to become the princess of her province. Of course, her immense beauty and her atypical character would also play an important role in their conquest for nobility. In this sense, the ball had been a great success.
While her chambermaid marveled at the dresses she took out of her trunk, Madeleine looked at herself in her dressing table mirror, dreading the impending evening as she knew it would be intense. It took over an hour to get her hair and makeup looking perfect and to get herself perfumed, and it took no less than forty-five minutes to get her into her corset and her red and gold evening gown. She had chosen this outfit wisely as she knew it highlighted her abundant and naturally untamed blonde hair to perfection.
At five o'clock, her husband's carriage picked her up in front of the steps of the castle; and at six o'clock, after a long hour spent on bumpy dirt roads watching the sun set, she found herself in front of Baroness Du Chantelan’s palace. It was her first reception in a totally unknown land. Although Madeleine had welcomed the baroness at the duke's ball, she didn’t know the woman, let alone her guests, whom she had barely had time to meet that evening.
By the time she finally arrived at the baroness's home, night had already fallen. The stars were twinkling in the violet-blue sky which colored the white stones of the castle with the same celestial hue. Situated in the middle of a forest of pines and limestone, the building was bathed in a delicious fragrance, characteristic of the south of France, lulled by the song of the crickets.
After setting foot on the light-colored gravel, Madeleine looked gravely at the stone steps that rose before he
r, guarded by valets, like a royal alleyway. With her heart pounding, she climbed them gracefully, lifting her heavy dress as if it were the lightest of fabrics. When she reached the top, a valet greeted her, asking her name and title before inviting her to enter the castle.
The luxurious tapestries of pale pink, embroidered with gold threads, exhibited an elegance and good taste that pleasantly surprised the duchess. Still silent behind the valet, she walked through several rooms before hearing the sound of female laughter behind closed doors. As required by protocol, the valet stood up straight, turned the door handle and announced:
“The Duchess De La Fortelle!”
She was immediately acclaimed by a row of women sitting around a table of pastries, while the mistress of the house, an elegant, mature woman with brown hair, approached her, holding out her hands:
“Oh! Our duchess! Our little pearl! How happy I am that you’ve granted me the honor of your presence!”
“The honor is all mine, baroness...”
“Call me Gabrielle!” she said, with a beautiful provincial accent. “Make yourself at home, and please, come and meet my guests. With so many names at once, it couldn't have been easy for you at the ball the other night...”
Without delay, the baroness took hold of Madeleine with her fingertips and graciously led her into the room where the other women were waiting for her like hungry hyenas who had just laid eyes on their next meal.
When she set her eyes on the assembly of women, Madeleine wavered: the three De Villiers sisters were there, and notably, the eldest of the sisters, Johanna, who stared at her suspiciously and with falsely welcoming eyes. A great strength appeared to emerge from her being and she seemed fully aware of it, as her aura radiated a remarkable air of superiority.
Impressed, not by her attitude, but by the simple fact that she was the sister of the Marquis De Villiers, Madeleine tried to pull herself together and regain her usual composure. She was introduced to all the nobles present, marquises and countesses, who stared at her with ferocious appetites, while attempting to hide behind their broad smiles. She curtsied at least a dozen times, sensing at the same time, the jealousy and hypocrisy that emanated from each and every one of them. The women scrupulously observed her every gesture, from the movement of her rebellious locks, to that of her chest as she breathed.
Once the presentations were finally over, she was able to sit down and taste the various pastries that were laid out for them. She was the attraction of the evening and had been eagerly awaited. In order to satisfy them, she spoke at length about Paris, paying attention not to evoke her bourgeois origins. Like creatures on the lookout for their prey, the other women listened with admiration, complimenting her on her manners, her Parisian accent, and her gowns, the one she now wore, as well as the one she had worn to the ball.
Yet, despite the compliments that extended from all sides, the persistent stare of the eldest of the De Villiers sisters destabilized her. She was powerful, magical, dangerous even. As she felt her gaze upon her, Madeleine multiplied her efforts to remain focused. She needed to make a good impression tonight if she wanted to be able to act freely in the countryside. Still, this beautiful woman, accompanied by her two sisters, wouldn’t leave her in peace. If she didn't take a liking to her, what would she say about her to the Marquis De Villiers?
At the thought that the three sisters could talk badly about her to their brother, Madeleine felt her heart start racing. And the more she felt the pressure increasing, the clumsier her gestures became.
Suddenly, the cries of men resounded outside the castle. The women fell silent. Madeleine, who was new to the region, expected the worst as she prepared to pull out the small silver dagger she always had hidden in her corset.
The shouting came closer. She recognized the voice of the valet who had shown her into the castle. He appeared to be protesting but was seemingly having trouble controlling the intruders.
Madeleine was ready for combat. As the cries came closer, the door to the room where the women were gathered suddenly flung opened violently. The man who came in bellowing, had the smile of a conqueror stretched across his face:
“So ladies, don't you want us around?”
Then, several other men entered the room howling like barbarians, as the women laughed and giggled, throwing themselves into their arms. Within seconds they were all in a state of euphoria; only Madeleine, who had remained frozen in her chair, seemed to be excluded. She didn’t know what troubled her more: was it the arrival of the men who had taken over the room like brigands, or the fact that their leader was none other than the very charming Marquis De Villiers?
Chapter 10
Tara woke up with a start, her heart beating wildly as she saw the beguiling face of the Marquis de Villiers as if she was still there. He looked so much like Victor! Apart from a few facial features, and the Marquis’ blue eyes which were different from Victor’s brown eyes, they looked like the same man. What if Emily was right? What if these dreams were of her past lives? Perhaps the Marquis had been one of Victor’s incarnations a few centuries earlier... and she, Madeleine, had already fallen under his spell...
Dreaming of a love that could live on throughout the centuries, Tara stretched, still hidden under her sheets, smiling blissfully. At that moment, she would have given anything to be able to cuddle up next to him.
Suddenly, she heard someone knocking violently on the door. Startled, she sat up in her bed and spotted the two guards hovering up by the ceiling, both glaring at her with their large black and gold eyes. The sight of the two sinister angels sent a chill down her spine: here she was, back to her depressing reality!
The knocking on the door became louder as she heard Hugo asking if he could enter the room. Making sure she was properly dressed, she sat up straight in her bed and invited him in.
Glowing with vitality, the gladiator made an energetic entrance, smiling from ear to ear. Then, when he saw the two guards sitting at their posts, he immediately lost his enthusiasm and greeted them with military rigor.
“Get ready,” he ordered, throwing a bag of buttery croissants at her. “We have to move your stuff.”
Tara slowly grabbed the bag, attempting not to dirty her fingers with the grease that had penetrated the paper.
“What do you mean move my stuff?”
“You're going to move out of your apartment until you retrieve your power.”
“I'm sorry but no, that’s not going to happen.”
Surprised, Hugo gave Tara an inquiring look. She wasn’t going to allow herself to be intimidated by him. She maintained her position while staring at him rebelliously.
“You don't have much choice,” Hugo replied with a smile.
“We’ll see about that,” replied Tara, biting off a piece of croissant. “Don’t think I’m going to obey you. I like my apartment, it's my home, and you can’t take it away from me.”
“We're not taking it away from you. You can go back there as soon as you're able to defend yourself.”
Tara deliberated while examining her warm croissant. These missionaries were trying to take control of her life. First, they told her she’d have to give up her job and her family. Now they wanted her to leave her apartment and bring all her things here... Were they trying to make her disappear?
However, having seen what they were capable of doing to a helpless human being, she knew she had to protect herself if she wanted to avoid suffering the same fate as the chemist Nicolas Fernand. She decided she would resist and cooperate at the same time:
“My things aren’t going anywhere,” she replied in a soft but firm voice. “However, I’m willing to collaborate with you for a few days if it is absolutely necessary.”
Hugo looked at her without saying a word. He seemed both surprised and disappointed by her response. Tara on the other hand, couldn't help but feel uncomfortable. Her hair was a mess after the night she had just spent hiding her head under her pillow, and she imagined the bags she must have under h
er eyes. This was a bad time for her to look like an idiot.
Finally, Hugo put an end to the awkward silence. She could hear a sincere sadness in his soft voice, which made her feel even more uneasy:
“You need to start remembering why you came to Earth Tara. You’re supposed to be our guide. But instead, you’re behaving like a pig-headed princess who doesn't want anything to do with all of this. You’re making us force you into doing what you should be doing on your own initiative. With all due respect to Diane, I really don’t feel like I’m in the presence of a leader.”
With these words, he turned on his heels and left the room. Tara remained in her bed, flabbergasted. His words made her lose her train of thought. Then, as she raised her eyes to the ceiling, the harsh and contemptuous expressions of the two guards made her feel even worse.
Maybe Hugo was right. Maybe she wasn't trying hard enough to understand the mission of the angels. After all, didn’t she have proof enough that they had told the truth about her?
Embarrassed, she got out of bed and went to find Hugo. As she stepped foot into the corridor, she immediately saw Mark who looked at her with a deeply disappointed face. She realized that the gladiator had already told him about their conversation. She felt her discomfort growing. Nonetheless, she mustered up the courage to walk to the living room. There, she found Hugo informing the other residents about the conversation they had just had. She felt so ridiculous that she wanted to run and hide.
When she entered the room, everyone turned to look at her. Standing alone in front of the group, Tara could feel the full force of their judgment on her. They didn't blame her. No, it was worse that: she had disappointed them. She promised herself that she’d never do anything again that would cause her such humiliation. From now on, she would think twice before responding.
HAGEN: 1. Revelations Page 12