Mathieu (17 page)

Making a noncommittal grunt, Marcus paused and then spoke. “Listen, I know you feel bad about what just happened.”

“No,” Mathieu interrupted as he kept pulling at the grass. “I don’t feel bad. In fact, I feel refreshed and invigorated. And that is why I have to leave.”

“I don’t understand.” Marcus said quietly.

“I don’t expect you to understand because I don’t understand. All I know is that pain and anger and death attract me and make me stronger. I don’t want to be stronger. I don’t want to feel drawn to it. I don’t want to feel anything anymore. I don’t want to be alive anymore.” He punctuated each sentence with another rip on the grass. “I shouldn’t be alive. I am an unnatural thing.” He covered his eyes and bent his head in shame.

“
Are you done feeling sorry for yourself yet?” Mathieu finally turned and looked up. The moon had turned Marcus’ blonde hair silver and gave his face lines and shadows that didn’t exist. He held a coffee mug in each hand that he balanced carefully as he sat down outside the circle. He passed over the one in his left hand. “I thought you could use this.”

“Because the whole world goes to shit without coffee?” At Marcus’ nod, Mathieu wiped his filthy hands on the grass and then took the mug. “Merci’,” he said quietly as he held the warm mug to his forehead.

“Jenn went to change into some dry clothes but she’s going to be out here pretty quickly, so we’d better get this conversation over before she gets here.” Marcus drank his coffee and closed his eyes in pleasure at the taste.

“Do we now?”

“Yeah. Because I’m going to say some things I don’t want her to hear, and you’re going to say some things you don’t want her to know. And we both know that it’s just better to keep some things out of the Foundation’s grasp. I love my wife, but there are certain things that I’m not comfortable with.”

“Oh.” Mathieu drank his coffee.

Marcus shifted on the grass. “Did you mean to do what you did in there?”

“No. I would never purposely hurt anyone.”

Marcus was quiet for a long moment before speaking again. “I believe you.”

“Thank you. I mean it.”

“I know. Is what happened what you were so afraid of happening? I know you said it was hard to focus, but I didn’t realize that was what you meant.”

Mathieu spoke very quietly. “Gadreel often tormented me by saying that I would turn into something like it because I was bound and would take on its traits because of that. It appears all my struggles were in vain because it was right.”

“
Hardly.” Marcus leaned over and tapped the grass beside Mathieu’s knee to make his point. “Gadreel was a bloodthirsty creature with no other goal but to cause misery. I hardly think you want to do that.”

“No, but if I can’t control it I am no better.” Mathieu picked up the knife in his free hand and weighed it in his hand.

“Then you’ll learn better control.” Marcus said quietly. “If he didn’t defeat you while he was alive, I don’t think he’s going to beat you after he’s dead. You’re human and you’ve got the ability to dream and hope. I doubt he could have done that. You’ve got the ability to give for others instead of pleasing only yourself. They sure as hell can’t do that. You’ve got the ability to feel shame for what happened. I know that’s not one of their traits.”

“No. It certainly isn’t.” Mathieu looked back to the house and saw the door open and cast a square of golden light on the ground before closing. “I think your wife is coming.”

Marcus straightened, looked over his shoulder before leaning forward to continue in a low voice. “Hugh is going to be here tomorrow afternoon.” At Mathieu’s pained look, he continued. “I don’t like him any more than you. I think he’s a weasel and I don’t appreciate what he did to you earlier.” He paused again. “He’s playing some kind of game. I think you could have made it through regular travel if he hadn’t purposely triggered you like that, and don’t think he didn’t do it on purpose to shake that spell out of you.”

“I don’t know about the rest but I find I must agree on the weasel comparison.”

“I figured you would. He’s after something and I don’t think it’s just his daughter. There’s too much here that isn’t adding up right.”

Mathieu drank the last of his coffee and looked out to the woods. “Do you feel the wards out there?”

“Where?” At Mathieu’s nod, he turned towards the woods and concentrated. His eyes widened after a moment. “Yeah. But those are old. Very old.”

“
Exactly my point.” Mathieu could see Jenn halfway to them. “Whoever laid those was trying to keep something out or something in. Most wards would collapse when the person who laid them died—classically they’re powered by your own personal energies. These, on the other hand, are tied to and powered off of the land itself. They’re set so I would have to use an
Orbis
to leave here instead of simply using an air sigil.” With a sideways glance at Marcus, he asked quietly, “Has anyone ever investigated the history of the house?”

“I don’t know, but I’d be willing to bet my left kidney that Hugh did before he bought this for his little girl.”

“The one who doesn’t believe in magic?” Mathieu asked in the most innocent voice he could dredge up.

“Yeah. Her.” Marcus looked at the circle as Jenn came up behind him. “Where were you going to go? Your mountaintop?”

“Probably. I don’t think I’d decided yet.”

“You can’t go.” Jenn walked to the edge of the circle and crossed her arms. “You promised me.”

“I was also almost responsible for you having innocent blood on your hands.” Mathieu nodded back towards the house. “You might have forgotten that small detail but I certainly haven’t.”

“You didn’t mean to.” Jenn said it firmly, a statement of fact. “And besides, Susan hardly counts as ‘innocent’. I’d say morally ambiguous blood.

“I have no way of judging the status of her blood. Let us just say you should never have blood on your hands, innocent or corrupt or morally flexible. It would be an obscenity.”

Jenn sighed. “What happened, happened. No one can change the past. Let’s move forward instead.” She paused and then continued sharply, “It’s not like you have any right to say what I have on my hands, anyway.”

“Moving forward is not an option.” Mathieu spun the coffee cup in his hands. “I am a danger to those around me. Not to either of you, of course.” He looked up and met Jenn’s eyes. The moonlight bled the
color
from them but gave her hair darker tones. “I would never harm you or anyone you love, Jenn. Never. I swear that on all that is left of me.”

Marcus sat quietly while his wife dropped down next to him. “I trust you, Mathieu. Marcus trusts you or he wouldn’t be out here talking to you. And we trust you because we want to, not because we have to.”

“I do not trust myself.” Mathieu picked up the knife and began to carve the characters of his spell from the living earth. “I am certainly not worthy of it from you.”

“That’s too bad, because you have it whether you want it or not.” Jenn leaned forward and put her hand in the path of the knife. “Eddie and Susan found something up in Mander’s bedroom. We think you should see it.”

“I think I should leave here before I cause any more problems.” Mathieu waited for her hand to move, but it didn’t.

“Let him finish, Jenn.” Marcus said quietly.

She turned to him with an angry expression. “You can’t be serious. You can’t just let him go.”

“No, I don’t want to let him go.” Marcus nodded back to Mathieu. “But I think we need to let him have a way out. Something that he knows he can fall back on.”

Mathieu raised one eyebrow and Marcus continued. “Finish your circle and cover it up. You were going to do that anyway, right? Then come back to the house and see what they found. You know we can’t figure this out without you. If you think things are going to go badly or that you’re going to have a repeat performance of tonight, you’ve got a way out. No one,” he said with a meaningful look at Jenn, “from the Foundation—especially Amanda’s father—will know. Do we have an agreement?”

Mathieu looked back into the woods and studied the wards for a long moment. There was something here, something old and hidden. He looked back at the two of them and a thought crossed his mind,
If I
go,
whatever it is here might hurt her—them--as well.
He finally nodded. “Agreed.”

Jenn glared at her husband for a long moment and then sighed and lifted her hand. “Fine. Finish it and we’ll help you cover it up.”

“Thank you, but I would prefer to cover it myself. I would not want anything to be damaged in the process. Not that I am implying that you would do so on purpose, of course.”

“Of course not.” Jenn huffed and then stood, brushed the seat of her jeans and turned back to the house. “I’ll tell the others you’ll be back in a few. Once you’ve washed up, of course. Don’t you dare track all that crud into a clean house.”

She paused and looked over her shoulder at Mathieu. “I knew you wouldn’t let me get hurt, you know. Even though I was scared, I just knew.”

“Your faith in me is misplaced.” Mathieu nodded to Marcus who was gathering up the coffee mugs and preparing to stand. “Your husband is much more worthy of such regard. I see why you married him.”

“Oh, I knew that ages ago. He’s great, isn’t he? Jenn smiled, dimples visible even in the dark.

“I just married her for her money.” Marcus shrugged and ducked a rock tossed in his direction. “And the sex. The sex is nice too.”

“Get your ass back to the house before I kick it down there, Marcus Lee Hascomb.” Jenn yelled.

Marcus shrugged. “There’s a hose next to the kitchen door. I’d say you should wash up there so you don’t incur her wrath. You wouldn’t like it.” Then he paused. “But knowing what I know now, maybe you would?” He gave a short, sharp laugh and walked back to the house, leaving Mathieu alone in the moonlight to lay out a spell, preserve it and pack down the sod back in place. He left a white rock in the middle of the circle to mark the location before making his way back to the house that was blank to all but his human senses.

C
hapter Twenty - Six

The water from the hose was from the well and as cold as he remembered the water being when he was a child. Cold didn’t normally affect him anymore, but this had a bite that made him sit up and take notice.

Despite it, he scrubbed and scrubbed until his skin was red. The physical dirt was easy. The rest… it never seemed to go away no matter what he did.

He walked back into the kitchen to find the others sitting around the big table closely examining a large pile of pink envelopes. Their soft conversation stopped as they noticed him in the doorway, wet hair dripping down into his collar.

“Over here, little bro’. Dwayne pulled an empty chair over next to him. “You’ve got to see this shit.”

Mathieu nodded and carefully navigated around the room to the chair and sat down. Eddie reached behind him and pulled out a dry dishtowel. “Here.”

“Thank you.” With small motions he began to towel off his hair.

Carol placed a mug of coffee in front of him along with a large cookie, still hot from the oven. “I like to cook when I get stressed out.” She shrugged and gave a half smile. “It makes me feel better and no one complains about the food.”

Mathieu
looked across the table to see the others each with cookies and coffee at hand. “Merci.” He gave a Carol a small smile and turned towards the envelopes on the table. He caught motion from the corner of his eye. Carol had reached to place her hand on his shoulder. Dwayne caught her halfway and redirected it to the back of his chair with a warning shake of his head.

“What did you find?” He looked at the pile of pale pink paper.

Susan cleared her throat and leaned forward, pushing a letter in front of him. “These. A whole box of them.”

“Letters?”

“Not just letters, little bro’.” Dwayne pulled the letter closer. “Letters supposedly sent from some guy but on her own stationary, written in her own handwriting, and sent to her in envelopes addressed to her with stamps and all.”

“Yeah,” said Susan. “But the stamps weren’t cancelled so they never went through the Post Office.”

“They were hidden behind some paneling in her bedroom”. Eddie said, for once dead serious. “We put them in date order. They go back about five months.”

“Soon after she moved here?” Mathieu asked, looking to Jenn for confirmation.

“Within a few weeks.” Jenn took a cookie from the plate Carol put on the end of the table and bit into it with an air of misery.

“Now what?” Marcus looked at Mathieu.

Mathieu shrugged. “Now we read. Give me the earliest ones.”

The room went silent as the letters were divided and then read.

Amanda’s hand was very neat, but also feminine, Mathieu thought. The tone of the letters was not feminine in the least, however.

He read the first letter and found it to be a short introduction from a young man who called himself simply ‘G’ who had once lived in the very same house Amanda now owned. It seemed innocuous enough at first glance, notwithstanding the very disturbing fact Amanda had written the letter to herself.

The
next letter was dated a day later and spoke again of the house and old memories, and mentioned of an upcoming trip to the area and how he would love to see the house again.

Mathieu frowned and looked around the kitchen at the others reading, their faces in various expressions of boredom, fascination, or horror.

He leaned forward and took a letter from the middle of Dwayne’s pile with an apologetic nod. This one was weeks later. Mathieu frowned as he read.

“Dearest Amanda,

Indeed, I am very much looking forward to not only seeing the house again, but also finally seeing you for the first time. The photographs you sent were lovely, but I feel seeing—and touching—you in the flesh will be lovelier than I could ever imagine.

Unfortunately, there are a few complications that we will have to resolve together before I can come and visit you.

I promise you as I have before, I will make all the time and effort you spend on this worth your while.