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The Boy Who Forgot

Title

Synopsis

The Voice Of The Voiceless

Find out What Happens Next

About the Author

Copyright © 2018 S. A. Tedman

All illustrations copyright © 2018 Adrien Ballesta

All rights reserved.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are used fictitiously.

Any resemblance to actual events, or persons, living or deal, is coincidental.

All rights reserved.

No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publisher.

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The Boy who Forgot: A Delacourt Short Story

None of this should be happening! How could I have messed up this badly?!

Elisabeth Delroy, Headmistress of the prestigious Delacourt Academy, has spent her entire existence desperately trying to fix the world, doing everything in her power to replace the actions of he who had been taken from it.

But it just isn't enough, and she knows she is failing.

Until one night, when a beautiful creature, the Voice of the Voiceless, gives her one final mission: to save a child - yet to be born - and protect him until he comes of age.

The one that has the power to bring him back, before the world falls apart.

The one that would be called... the Dreamwalker.

Featuring Elisabeth Delroy in a Delacourt Short Story.

Elisabeth woke up sweating.

This was bad.

Elisabeth didn't sweat. She didn't even know she could sweat.

She threw off her satin sheets frowning, and stretched, her silk orange nightie sticking to her skin like honey to a dipper.

A flash of light caught her eyes through the swaying curtains. A storm was brewing, and it was close.

Oh yes. This was very bad indeed.

The Academy wasn't supposed to have storms. She had made sure of that when the last brick had been placed in 1926. The best magic practitioner known to the Fold had put a spell on the grounds to create its own personal climate, very different from the one in London.

One without storms.

Bad signs come in threes. She knew how this worked.

Elisabeth sighed and stood up, wanting nothing more than a refreshing shower as she grabbed her dressing gown and headed to the bathroom.

Unfortunately, the second she opened the door, it slammed itself shut with a deafening bang.

"Dammit," she growled, putting her hand on the wall.

"Tell me. Why can't I access my bathroom?"

Before she could determine just how desperate she was for a shower and if she was willing to break it down or climb through the window from the outside, she was distracted by a courteous knock on the door behind her.

"Come in," she sighed again as she walked back to her bed, picking up the glass of whisky on her bedside table.

She would have preferred the taste of toothpaste, but this would have to do.

"Madam, do forgive my intrusion at this ungodly hour but-"

"Yes Alfred, I am well aware of the storm, thank you," she said, massaging her forehead.

"No Madam, I -"

"Yes, the Academy is a little on edge I have also noticed."

Elisabeth emptied the glass and set it back down on the nightstand, turning to the alabaster haired butler.

"It is not that, Madam..."

"Well? What then?"

Alfred nodded towards the window hesitantly, and she felt the hairs on her back prickle.

She moved to the window and peered through it, as she delicately pulled aside the curtains with her fingertips.

There He stood, waiting, in the middle of the grass, next to the apple tree.

His antlers reached far above the last branch of the fruit tree and Elisabeth recognised Him instantly.

The last Irish elk, majestic, as white as fresh fallen snow. The voice of the voiceless. His spokesman.

Elisabeth turned to the butler and cleared her throat.

"It would appear I have been summoned," she announced, matter-of-factly.

"Madam, do you know what it is?"

Alfred's voice was shaking which was unsettling. He was usually the perfect representation of a "stiff upper lip" man.

"Yes. I met with Him once, before the fall of the Great Dynasty."

"But that was-"

"Eons ago. I know. Please Alfred, find Frank and ask him to make me a snack. Something - meaty. The more blood, the better."

The butler nodded, bowed and left the room.

Elisabeth turned back to the window.

The elk hadn't moved, as was to be expected, and she knew He wouldn't until He had fulfilled His purpose.

Things had been so different at the time. There had been a specific reverence, and... a prayer, maybe? Yes, a prayer to be said before speaking to Him... but she couldn't remember it, not if her life depended on it, and if He was here tonight... well, it meant her life possibly depended on a lot of things.

She closed her dressing gown. It was time to go.

As she walked out of her room and down the stairs, into the common room, she felt queasy and realised the air was supercharged with static electricity. It did nothing to help tame her already bushy golden hair, and she could feel it standing on end like a bottlebrush in bloom.

The glass doors leading to the outside were ajar, and she was about to go through them when she heard a voice from the kitchen behind her.

"Ma'am," Frank sniffed from the other side of the open counter.

"Oh, I wasn't expecting to see you yet. I asked Alfred only a few minutes ago to call you over."

"Wasn't sleepin' Ma'am. Couldn't, not with the whatchamacallit."

Frank was biting down on his bottom lip, and his hands were shaking.

"I see," she spoke soothingly, "yes, well I am the Headmistress of this school. I shall go and deal with this promptly."

"Ma'am?"

"Yes Frank."

"You be safe now Ma'am," the man said, removing his cap and twisting it between his fingers.

Elisabeth smiled.

Frank was such a lovable man, with his clumsy arms, stork-like body, and angelic, childlike face. His smile could fill you with more warmth than a fireplace any day.

Shame he was so different from the man she had known - in her other life. The Frank from the other world.

The world as it was meant to be.

He'd had his own successful restaurant, filled with friends and family, where the best musicians from around the world had been honoured to come and play for him. He'd even had a wife and children. In that world, he hadn't been... damaged, and although this in no way changed how much she loved him, to her, Frank was a painful, daily reminder of her many failures.

She took a deep breath as she left the comfort of the Academy, and looked up at the sky.

It was gorgeous; a perfect mix of purple and crimson, the kind of colours you'd be lucky to see once or twice in a lifetime. And she'd lived through enough lifetimes to know that there was nothing natural about it at all.

The world was holding its breath, with not even a cricket or frog to be heard in the distance. The only living creatures that dared to make an appearance were fireflies.

But of course, she thought, they aren't really natural creatures either.

As she walked towards the giant beast, she realised just how surreal the scene must seem to Frank and Alfred. She knew, of course, that they were spying on her through the windows of the Academy, more out of concern than curiosity, but even so. Here she was, about to make contact with an extinct animal, on the backdrop of a storm, with lighting piercing a wine coloured sky. It was surreal even to her.

Her instinct was begging her to turn back, but her will was stronger and she pushed aside her fear, asking her power to be patient and trust her as the beast made a snorting sound, egging her on.

She was lying to her power. She had screwed up. Badly. She knew it, and even if she was the only one to realise just how badly she had failed her mission, she had guessed He had come to reprimand her and she would accept whatever punishment He deemed fit.

As she approached apprehensively, she couldn't take her eyes off His antlers, intricately carved with a symmetrical tree-like design, adding texture to the already complex surface of His deciduous horns. Dangling glass charms and pastel ribbons were tied to them, reminding her of the wishing trees of Anatolia.

As she came close enough to touch them, she fell to her knees and closed her eyes, turning her face to the ground. The least she could do was to bow to Him.

After a few moments, there was a soft clinking sound, like wind chimes swaying in a summer breeze, and she felt a heavy, warm head press on her shoulder and rub itself against her ear and cheek.

It was similar to the nickering of a horse and she stood up as a wave of relief washed over her, reaching for Him and desperately willing herself not to hug the animal with all her being.

"You may embrace me."

His voice had come not from His mouth, but from His chest, resonating through her entire being and rooting her to the ground with each vibration. It was terrifying and noble and beautiful, and it reminded her of the voice of a mighty King she'd once served.

"It's fine," she said softly, trying not to sound rude.

"Why so bitter, Elisabeth?" He asked, tilting his head slightly.

She chuckled.

"You would be bitter too, if you were in my shoes."

The beast's head turned to the ground.

"But you are not wearing any shoes."

She smiled at Him and continued stroking the top of His head, sliding her hands between the antlers over and over again, remembering the feeling of utter and complete serenity she had felt so many centuries ago when she had first met Him. At the time, war was unknown to her as was the pain of loss.

"Forgive me, but I have been alone so long, the only way for me to not be consumed by rage is to exert control. One of its side effects seems to be bitterness."

"You have changed," he continued.

"Being alone will do that to you."

"You have never been alone, Elisabeth. I have always been watching."

"And watching is not enough,' she answered plainly. 'Why have you come?"

The beast shook His head and exhaled a puff of breath. A sound closer to music than noise; the world around her sighed with Him. Still, the grounds of the Academy were eerily quiet, with only the trickling water from the forest, the faint hum of the glowworms, and the hooves of the elk pawing at the ground to be heard.

"It is time. He who has been taken away from this world must be brought back."

She took a step back and turned away, watching as lightning tore the sky in half, biting her lip until she could taste blood in her mouth.

She had waited so long for those very words to be said that she had lost faith they ever would be, and had long believed that even if she were to hear them, they would sound... empty, somehow, like a broken promise. But coming from Him... Hearing them from Him ignited a special kind of fiery anticipation she hadn't thought she still possessed and for the first time in decades she fought back the urge to cry.

She had shed her last tear ages ago, upon finding the body of a friend of hers who had been ripped to shreds by the so-called "scientists" and "doctors" working for the Black Rose. She was afraid that if she let herself feel again, if she let herself cry, only salt would fall from her eyes and she really didn't want to find out if there were any truth to this theory.

"How? How can he return?" she asked, trying to keep her voice steady.

"A child is to be born. Male. He will bring him back to you."

"What is my role in all this?"

"You are to keep him safe until his eighteenth birthday, and bring him here where he shall understand who and why he is."

There was a short pause.

"Is that all? I need more to be able to help."

"Only he can bring him back. He needs to understand his purpose."

"You... need me to make him believe."

"Yes."

"Is there anything else? You have to give me more!"

"His heart is pure and he will be gifted."

"Gifted in what?"

"He has the soul of an artist."

Elisabeth sighed.

"That's a start, I suppose."

"He will be - the Dreamwalker."

A sudden gust of wind interrupted their conversation, and she realised the glow worms in the forest had disappeared. The word he had pronounced carried weight and although she had never heard it before, she knew that it was special and that somehow, it was the key to all that was wrong with her world.

"The Dreamwalker," she repeated, whispering as if saying it were forbidden.

The elk pawed the soft ground restlessly.

"It is time for me to depart."

"Wait, how will I find him?"

"The mother, Marie, is in a hospital in the ancient fortified city where Lady Carcas rang the bells. She is ready to give birth."

"Lady Carcas... You mean the city of Carcassonne in the South of France? Marie? No surname... what can you tell me about her?"

"She will not survive his birth."

Elisabeth raised her eyebrows and sighed again.

"That's not what I meant."

The elk rattled His antlers and the lustrous tinkling of the wind chimes sent waves of serenity through her being.

"It is your turn to talk, Elisabeth. Hurry now."

Her eyes widened in surprise.

"I have nothing to say."

"When one of my children has strife, I tend to favour dialogue."

She clenched her teeth, nearly biting her tongue, the anger she had been holding in suddenly bubbling up to the surface. He wanted her to talk? Fine!

"I have been waiting for your miracle child since the last time we met."

She tried to stay calm, but her frustration and anger were grabbing her by the throat.

"I told you I would come once the right one was ready," replied the elk, patiently.

"Yes, yes you did. Centuries ago. More actually. You forbade me to speak, to share my knowledge with anyone. And in that lapse of time, we have been hunted, we have been tortured, we have been slaughtered like game. I have seen everyone I have ever loved die. And you, you just sat by and watched us get murdered!"

"Indeed."

"Why would you let this happen?"

She wasn't ready to cry, but she did feel like driving her sharp teeth into something and was having a hard time keeping her claws retracted.

"I told you a long time ago, Elisabeth, I do not intervene. Humans are free to live as they please. Once he is brought back to you, once he returns, order can be restored."

"And yet you have the power to bring him back with the blink of an eye! Why don't you do so?"

"I do not wish to interfere with mankind."

"But you have before. And you are doing so now."

"Yes."

"Then I don't understand."

He did not answer and closed his eyes as Elisabeth focused on the memories of the one lost to her, letting her anger slowly ebb away.

"Does that mean there will always be strife between us?" He asked her, finally.

"Well, what did you expect? A cuddle? A tap on the back as I say, "All is well between us"? "Thank you for only intervening when you decide it is necessary, regardless of the pain of your so-called children"?"

There was a pause, and the elk reopened His eyes.

"Hmm. I would not say no to a cuddle."

The elk had left through the forest, the trees parting to let him through, and Elisabeth was reminded of the fact that she would have to reinforce the security around it, maybe even making the forest forbidden to the students altogether. With everything going on inside, perhaps it was best to keep the Mortals at bay.

It had started raining as soon as he had disappeared as if it hadn't dared before, a light summer shower - rather pleasant in fact - and Elisabeth made her way back to the Academy slowly, enjoying the refreshing water and the sound it made as it sprinkled the world around her.

She leaned against the open glass doors watching as the sun started to rise in the distance, clearing up the cloudy sky and turning the supernatural encounter of lightning flashes and striking colours into nothing more than the usual sunrise the Academy had been accustomed to for nearly a hundred years.

The butler appeared by her side holding a silver tray and a glass of maroon liquid.

"I thought a cup of tea wouldn't be strong enough, Madam."

"Thank you, Alfred."

The drink was delicious, and she looked down at it, smiling as she realised that her dear old friend had laced the whisky with a shot of blood.

"Hmm, you truly are wonderful, Alfred."

"I try my best, Madam."

"Special brew?"

"From the vault, Madam."

"Yes. Truly wonderful."

They stood in silence until she finished her drink and placed the empty glass back on the tray.

Alfred coughed lightly, a habit he had to announce he was about to speak.

"Beautiful morning, isn't it, Madam?"

"It is indeed, Alfred, it is indeed."

"A much needed August rain it would seem. Perfect way to clean up the air."

"It was getting uncomfortable, yes Alfred."

She turned to him, waiting for him to finish the small talk.

"You seem happy, if I may say so, Madam."

"Don't I always seem happy, Alfred?" she mused.

"Of course, Madam, but today you seem... happier than usual."

Elisabeth smiled at him fondly.

"It was a joke, my old friend."

"So it was good news then?"

"Yes. Wonderful news, news we have been waiting for since - oh, I don't know - since the start of this all."

She waved at the world as if the man by her side was supposed to understand.

Alfred brought out a silk handkerchief from his inside vest pocket and handed it over to her.

"Alfred? Why are you handing me a hanky?" she asked him carefully.

"You never know, Madam. I'd better go and check up on Frank if you will excuse me."

Alfred left a perplexed Elisabeth to look at the piece of silk in her hand.

Oh well, she thought. I'll find out sooner or later.

The Academy grounds were buzzing with life again, having recovered from their nocturnal visit and it seemed as if things were back to normal. She would have loved to go back to bed, but she had things to do. Today was the start of something special, but until the rest of the world woke up, it was time for breakfast.

After her meal, which Frank had made with great care (an assortment of extra-bloody raw meats - just as she had asked for) she decided to sit down in the sitting room instead of her office to try and decide on the best course of action.

I only have a single sanctuary in the South of France, near Montpellier, she thought. Better announce my arrival and get a team ready. Carcassonne is small and doesn't have that many maternity wards, so it shouldn't be too hard to find this "Marie".

Elisabeth frowned. She would need a couple of agents to act as his parents and another person, one she could trust. Yes. If the baby could bring him back... well. She definitely needed someone she could count on. Someone like Victoria, in fact. She would have to give her a call.

She looked around and sighed, almost able to see him, sitting at the table like he would every morning. He would have woken up by now and taken a shower, coming into the sitting room in his dressing gown, smelling of vanilla aftershave and musky, exotic perfume. He'd read the DailyFold newspaper while he waited for his breakfast and students. In her mind's eye, she could see his face light up as he heard the doors to their dormitories open, and their feet run down the stairs to join him.

As the decades had worn on and turned into centuries, she'd lost hope that he'd ever be brought back, but after the elk's visit, she felt like a child on her way to Disneyland for the very first time. She was excited, she was anxious, she was desperate, desperate for his endless questions and life lessons, his bursts of understanding and generosity. She yearned to watch him teach his students and tell off the ones that would be too rowdy, laugh as they would squabble, and praise the ones that would create beauty and wonder. He was a father to them all, protecting them and keeping them safe, or at least... that's what he should have been.

Elisabeth had lived a double life her entire existence. She knew how things were meant to be, and she'd done her very best to replace as many of his actions as she could, to stop the world around her from collapsing, but she had failed. It was too hard.

She hadn't been able to replace him, no matter how hard she'd tried. She hadn't even managed to find Alan, although she'd been looking for decades. Of all the students who had walked these grounds, she missed him the most. The smell of his cigarettes, his endless flirting, his cheerful smiles no matter how miserable his life was... He'd loved him like a father with all his heart, of course, they all had.

And she hadn't been able to save them. She hadn't even managed to save Frank.

She missed them all so much.

But this all could still be fixed, according to the elk. Everything would be back to normal once he returned.

Elisabeth was desperate for normal.

She looked up from her reverie and saw Alfred outside through the glass doors washing the Bentley by the entrance of the Academy.

She had wanted to ask him many times if he too could see into this 'other' reality but hadn't dared. Besides, it was impossible. Only she was plagued with the knowledge of a lost world, but sometimes she did wonder at the way he looked at her knowingly.

She wished she could tell him not to worry, that all this would soon be over. Eighteen years, a mere heartbeat compared to centuries of pain and loss and waiting.

She lay back and started counting the number of years she'd been without him. Before long, she felt herself drift off and stretched her legs out on the couch, resting her head on one of the decorative cushions. The night was catching up with her, and she could use some sleep. Just a quick nap, perhaps?

She felt someone cover her with one of the little polar blankets that were always to hand and she smiled and whispered a thank you to Alfred, realising he must have come back inside.

"You are very welcome my lady," came a deep, smooth voice from afar, and she snapped opened her eyes as she sat up, her heart beating out of her chest.

Alfred was still outside washing his car, and she was alone.

She was also covered with the little green blanket.

She lay back down on the sofa and started to weep silently.

Silly Alfred, she thought, reaching for the hanky he had given her. He was right.

Elisabeth opened the vault hidden behind the only hanging painting in her office, an original Mondrian composition, and brought out a very old bottle of whisky and a dusty vinyl record that she had been keeping since the late 1950's.

Over the last few days, she'd managed to elaborate a plan and was feeling particularly good about it. It was time for a reward. She sat back deep into her swivel chair, daydreaming happily about the decades to come.

She couldn't wait for him to return, to hear his voice, and smell his minty, distinctive odour. Although she wasn't a fan of mint, she knew she loved his smell above all others.

She missed their afternoon tea together that they would share in the greenhouse in Spring or by the pool in Summer.

Dammit! She had forgotten to add the pool.

She would have to get round to that.

How the hell had she managed to forget?

Although she'd tried to build the Academy exactly as it was meant to be, there were still some slight differences that she hadn't been able to help herself but make. She'd never been able to bring herself to have his study built, nor his bedroom either for that matter, so she'd had to build her own, despite it being fundamentally different. And now it seemed she had forgotten to add the pool...

It was bloody well time for him to return, she thought, frowning, as she placed the needle on the disk and waited for the chocolaty voice of Billie Holiday to resonate through the room. It was a music compilation of the songs that should have filled the school hallways, and when the singer hit the high note, Elisabeth popped the cork of the whisky bottle she had been saving. It was the same brand he would drink while listening to jazz and smoking expensive cigars, and she smiled contentedly.

A quiet knock interrupted her celebration, and she poured herself a generous amount, turning down the record player as she nursed her glass.

"Come in, Alfred."

The Butler entered and cleared his throat.

"Madam? Would you like your dinner in here?"

"Oh no, thank you Alfred, in fact, I need to talk to you. We have much to do together."

"Will you be needing Frank as well?"

"Yes. I think he is attending to the garden. I will see you both at dinner and yes, you will both eat with me tonight. Official business."

Alfred nodded and left without a word.

She was going to need their help for her plan to work.

"We are listening, Madam."

Elisabeth looked at them both fondly. Alfred and Frank, her closest and most trusted friends.

She cleared her throat.

"When I built the Academy, you followed me without question, without demand. You trusted me as you always have and you never once doubted my words."

They nodded patiently as she took a deep breath.

"The course of events leading up to this point have put the three of us on the same path, to finish this journey together. You do not know this, but we are exactly where we were supposed to be."

She knew she wasn't making any sense, but she couldn't even start explaining her cryptic words.

She sighed and realised she needed to do things differently.

"Do you trust me?" the Headmistress asked simply.

"Yes Madam," Alfred answered, smiling at her warmly.

"With me life, Ma'am," Frank nodded and showed off a set of perfect pearls.

"Good. I'm glad you see me that way. Right. I need your help."

"Whatever you need, Madam."

"The Academy is about to change. We have ten years to turn it into one of the best schools in the world."

"I thought it was one of the best schools in the world," Alfred said, nonplussed.

"It is. But it needs to be turned into an art school."

There was a silence until Frank shrugged.

"You know me, Ma'am! You tell me to jump, I jump, you tell me to clean I clean, so if yer tellin' me the Academy haster be a school for artsy folk, then it'll be a school for artsy folk."

Alfred coughed politely.

"May we ask why, Madam?"

"You may, but I'm not sure the answer will be helpful."

"Try me," he said softly.

"Because in eighteen years, a boy will come to this school. He is special, very special: he is the answer to all our prayers. He will be gifted in arts, and this school must be his best option."

"And how will you proceed?"

"I'm not sure yet. I don't have a single drop of artistic sensitivity in my body, quite the contrary. You know I don't like all of that nonsense, Alfred, but I will make an effort and learn. I don't even know where to start, but I know you have an affinity with the artistic world. Perhaps you could help me."

Alfred nodded. He seemed to be satisfied with her answer, which was good as she didn't know what else to say.

"How exactly can we assist you, Madam?"

She stood up and looked out of the glass doors onto the school grounds.

"Frank, I need you to tear down the south side building, and I'll send you the architect so you can make a new workshop for the students. We will be putting up three new buildings, and I will, of course, hire the best art teachers from around the world. What date is it today?"

"Tenth of August, Madam."

"Right, so school starts in two months, not enough time to finish everything, but in five years, the students that are starting this year will have graduated. The ones entering their first year next October need to start on the new programs. One year should give us enough time to introduce the new students to the art sections. All of this must be in place by October 1992. Alfred, I will need your help writing these new programs, finding new teachers, reaching out to other schools and making sure this plan works. This school was always meant to be an Academy, just not one for regular children. It was meant to be special."

"It is special, Madam," Alfred said smiling.

"I know, but that's not what I meant. The changes we'll make will be huge, but they will only be temporary. If all goes well, soon enough, things will be as they should. This Academy will finally be able to fulfil its purpose, and become what it was meant to be."

She paused and gently placed her hand on the wall.

"A sanctuary for people like us."

"Come in."

Elisabeth was sitting at her desk wearing her black and white Lanvin suit from the summer collection and had readied three folders for the meeting she'd arranged. The door opened tentatively.

"Mrs Delroy."

"Charles, lovely to see you. Where is Marianne?"

"On her way, Ma'am."

"Good. Take a seat."

Charles was an ordinary looking man. He was much smaller than Elisabeth but what he lacked in height he made up for in girth, clearly indulging in all the wrong foods. He looked about 25, but what would she know? If Immortals had one thing in common, it was their total incapacity in telling a person's age. He hadn't changed a bit since their last encounter in the late 1970's.

He was wearing a cheap looking brown suit and had combed his blond hair back giving the impression he was bald - most likely in an effort to look prim and proper, which Elisabeth might have appreciated - had he bothered to shave. She wasn't too keen on beards, and she watched as he fidgeted anxiously in his seat, as was his custom. He was hogging a dirty handkerchief, snivelling and wiping his nose; using the same dirty piece of material to wipe his glasses, trying to get rid of the smudges.

Elisabeth was not very fond of Charles.

Alfred entered with a knock bringing a tray of tea and biscuits and placed it on the table by Charles's side. The butler closed the door behind him as he left, and a few moments later a female voice came from the other side asking if she could come in.

In stark contrast to Charles, the woman who entered her office, looked her finest, wearing a suit, with high heeled shoes and a designer handbag. She had tied her hair up in a flawless bun, using just the right amount of makeup and the perfect shade of lipstick to highlight her model-like features. She smelled of fresh flowers and showed no sign of fear or discomfort as she walked towards the Headmistress.

"Marianne, please take a seat."

"Mrs. Delroy, I came as fast as I could," she said apologetically, sitting down.

"Thank you, I know it was on short notice. This won't take long; I have here your next order of mission."

They both nodded and waited for her to tell them more.

"There is a child, a baby boy. When he is born, you are to take him in, pose as a married couple and pretend he is yours. This will, of course, only reinforce your cover as mere Mortals and you shall be posted in a village in the South of France for the next eighteen years."

"A baby? You want us to take care of a child?" Marianne asked, clearly surprised.

"As if he were yours, yes. Of course, it is a complex situation, and I have here your new identities."

"But what of our current mission?" inquired Charles, who was now biting his lip.

"I see no reason why you cannot continue while raising a child. I know this is quite uncommon, especially for people like us, but you are my best option given the circumstances."

"Is he an Immortal?" Charles asked as he blew his nose in the noisiest way imaginable, placing the dirty hanky on the desk in front of him while he rummaged in his pockets.

Elisabeth would have to ask Alfred to bring some disinfectant.

"Oh no," she continued, turning to Marianne as she tried to repress the urge to kill him, "he is so much more. Now. You must not get attached as he is to come to me when he is of age. This goes both ways, I do not wish him to... care for you, or even to like you if that is possible. You are to make his childhood miserable, thus facilitating his detachment from you both."

Elisabeth slid two of the folders towards her agents.

"There is something else you must know. You are to protect him with your life, the oath you both took centuries ago applies to him, understood? He needs to be kept safe at all costs. Victoria will pose as your mother, Marianne, under a different identity. I do not recall if you have ever met her but you will soon enough."

"Yes, we met her about six years ago, while securing Stonehenge during the battle of the Beanfield."

"Ah yes, I remember, you used the distraction to your advantage. Good, then if you have met her, you may be on your way. I shall let you know once it is time for you to come and collect the child. If you have any questions, if the boy shows any sign that he is anything more than a Mortal, you must tell Victoria immediately. She shall remain in contact with me, but you will be asked to stay away from the Academy until your mission is over. Charles, you will need to brush up on your French. And please throw that disgusting handkerchief in the bin on your way out. Any questions?"

They both shook their heads, stood up and picked up their respective folders. Charles began apologising profusely, but Elisabeth put up her hand to stop him, pointing to the little waste paper basket by the lamp near the door. He obeyed immediately, and they left without further ado, tea and biscuits untouched.

Elisabeth only started to relax when she heard the front gate of the Academy close. She didn't like it when too many Physicals were in the same place at the same time. She would have preferred a Mortal to take care of the boy, which is why she had called Victoria, but she still needed people with special powers to protect him, and Marianne and Charles were the best people for the job.

It's not as if I have much choice, anyway, she thought unhappily. I don't have any other Physicals to spare, and we're spread way too thin as it is already.

Her two agents would just have to do, and besides, they were very good at blending in and passing off as Mortals. The less important his parents appeared to be, the more chance the boy would have at a normal, uneventful life.

"I do hate it when tea goes to waste."

Elisabeth suddenly became acutely aware of Victoria sitting in the chair in front of her, where Charles had been only moments before.

"How the hell do you do that?" she asked, blown away by her beautiful friend, "I should have been able to hear and smell you from miles away!"

"I know," the woman in the white cocktail dress smiled cheerfully. "Special training, I guess, that and a little magic," she finished, pouring herself some tea and nibbling on a biscuit.

"Victoria, it's always nice to see you."

"And you Beth! Why am I here?"

The Headmistress smiled. She had a soft spot for people who didn't waste her time or ask stupid questions.

"Straight to the point, as always," she muttered, straightening and pulling at her sleeve to smooth out a crease.

The woman in front of her looked around, her locks of gold bouncing around her friendly face and bright blue eyes.

"When will you add a little colour to this office, it's so dreary in here!" she joked kindly, sipping her tea.

Elisabeth chuckled and followed her friend's gaze. It was true that everything was black and white, with the occasional grey but it was exactly how she liked it. And besides, there was at least one splash of colour.

"What about my painting?"

"Horrible, terrible, as bad as Pollock."

"Well, you're not hired as an art teacher then."

"Oh, was that an option? I'd be a lot better as a school sex-counsellor."

"That's not a real job, you know. Now tell me, how have you been? Any news from the front?"

Elisabeth wondered if Victoria had also managed to sneak past Alfred on her way in.

"Good, fine actually, nothing much happening, the usual mess to sort out: portals, white magic nonsense... you know. Nothing for us."

"Hmm..."

"I'm guessing however that if you called me here, you have something for me."

"Yes. You're not going to like it, though."

"I rarely do."

Her friend sighed, putting down her cup.

"You... owe me a favour," Elisabeth said carefully.

"Yes, I know," Victoria's voice was just as careful as the Headmistress's.

"Well, you know I don't like asking but..."

"Spit it out Beth, it's the way we work, isn't it?"

"Your favour is due."

Victoria didn't answer immediately, and Elisabeth hoped she hadn't gone too far. It was just the way the Fold worked. The primary currency between them were favours, and if you lived long enough, someone might help you out during the Renaissance and ask you to repay him two, four, or six hundred years later, and there was nothing you could do about it.

Even if in the meantime you had become enemies.

It was a moral and ethical contract that bound souls and was stronger than any magic that existed. And Victoria and Elisabeth had made that deal decades ago.

"I'm listening," the woman nodded slowly, marking her respect and submission.

"There is a boy."

"Name?" Victoria asked, a look of worry drawn across her face.

"Name him yourself. It is of no importance to me."

"A child needs a name," she insisted.

"You will find an appropriate one, I am sure."

"Good," she said, breathing heavily, "for a second, I thought you were going to ask me to kill a child."

"Quite the contrary, actually. I need you to step down from your usual duties. You need to find him, and care for him, as his grandmother."

"Grandmother? Why not as his mother?"

"Marianne and Charles will act as his parents."

"If you say so, but I'm not sure I'm best fitted for that role," Victoria looked down at her revealing dress, raising her eyebrows. She slipped her hand under her right breast and winked, releasing the tension in the room.

Elisabeth was glad her friend had kept her sense of humour, despite the seriousness of the meeting.

"You will have to stop suckling on the immortality package the Black Rose has offered and grow old. You shall be the charming grandmother - you know the one I'm talking about - the one who knits and bakes cookies. It is all part of your role."

She slid the third folder over to Victoria.

"As you wish... But I hate growing old," she moaned as she opened up the file going through the papers hastily, 'France, huh?'

"Yes. Marianne and Charles will do everything in their power to ensure he has a miserable childhood. Your goal is to make sure you do everything in yours to make up for it. He needs to trust you, to love you. And when the time comes, you are to send him to me."

"What, to the Academy?"

"Yes. He will be gifted in arts. By the time he is an adult, I will have turned this school into the best Art School in Europe, so naturally, you will get him to sit for the entry exam."

"You might want to take the Mondrian down then," she said, nodding towards the wall.

"You really don't like it, do you?"

"Nope. Not one bit."

"Alright, alright. If all goes well, in eighteen years, the boy will pass his exams. He will be accepted on special grant, and I will get rid of the painting," the Headmistress gave in, with a smile.

"Is it important he gets a special grant?"

"Well, part of your cover is not having a lot of money," Elisabeth told her, apologetically.

Victoria scowled at the words and fell deeper into her chair.

"Oh no, don't tell me I have to be old and poor!"

"Well, no. Not poor. Just - not very well off."

"I suppose everything is in the folder..." her friend sighed miserably.

"Yes, you just need to give him a name."

"And why do you want Charles and Marianne as parents? If you want him to trust me, he doesn't need to have a miserable childhood. A lot of children love their grandmothers, you know."

"I need him to be in the right disposition to detach himself easily when the time comes."

"Again, you don't need to be this extreme, I'm sure he'd love to go to art school. Seriously Beth, you are terrible with children."

Elisabeth didn't answer. She had no interest in sharing more information with Victoria and the woman sitting at her desk took the hint.

"All right. No more questions, I get it."

She stood up and smiled.

"Your orders are my command."

She gave a little bow and stopped quite suddenly.

"Where do I find this baby?"

"His mother hasn't given birth yet, but we'll be flying to the city of Carcassonne together. I shall assist you with this one. Her name is Marie. I don't actually have more yet. I have agents already there trying to find her. Our flight is scheduled tomorrow morning so you can spend the night - if you wish."

"Wait, you want me to take a baby away from his mother?!"

Victoria looked slightly horrified.

"That won't be necessary," Elisabeth replied sadly, "she's not going to survive the birth."

Victoria had taken her up on her offer and had decided to spend the night. Elisabeth was delighted: this would give them time to unwind, and she could brief her on the details of her mission during the flight. It was a rare thing for Elisabeth to actually like other people, but Victoria was an exception.

They had met during the Second World War and had both witnessed the very first portal open during the London bombing, pouring onto the world the vilest of creatures, hell-bent on destroying any life-form they came across. In a world spliced by uncontrollable forces, one would have thought that the Black Rose would have chosen to team up and fight back with their fellow Immortals, but no. Instead, they had decided it was a good time to wipe out the Physical side of the Branch.

"It's time this ends," Victoria had told her. Her voice was chillingly calm.

She'd paid Elisabeth an urgent visit as soon as the Death Order had been sent out.

The Headmistress watched her curiously from behind her desk. The woman in front of her was shaking with anger as she downed her fourth cup of tea without even a flinch, despite the fact the steaming beverage was clearly burning her lips, tongue and throat.

Elisabeth took a deep breath and opened the top drawer, bringing out a small wooden box. A tree was delicately carved onto the lid, and she stroked it pensively.

Maybe. Just maybe.

"As of today," the Headmistress said quietly, "the last part of the Death Order has been set in motion. Its sole purpose is the complete annihilation of my kind. All Black Rose officials must adhere to this new law, which is basically a kill on sight order. Any Physical detected before birth is to be cut out of its mother's womb, the children are to be rounded up and executed, and the elders are to be tortured for information."

She shut her eyes. None of this should be happening, she thought desperately. How could I have messed up this badly?

When Elisabeth opened her eyes again, she looked at Victoria sternly.

"You have guts coming here; I'll give you that. But what makes you think I'd be willing to trust you, you who have served them for so long? How could a mere Mortal like yourself possibly help us survive?"

Victoria met the Headmistress's gaze unflinchingly.

"I may be Mortal, but I am a friend to the Fold, and what I lack in power, I make up for in wit. I am here to make a deal. It is simple. I want to join your ranks. I'm a high ranking member of the Black Rose, and together we can save more of your kind than you can alone. I have heard the rumours: I know you represent a strong voice for the Physicals."

The Black Rose traitor shook her head in disgust and looked out of the window of the Academy.

"Right now, Telepaths across every city in the world are spreading out and sweeping for people like you. Thousands are being slaughtered as we speak. It's too late to stop what has begun, but I cannot be a part of this. Whatever I can do to help, I shall."

There was a silence. Elisabeth could feel the truth behind her words and nodded, pushing the box towards her.

"Place your left hand upon it."

Victoria lifted her eyebrows dubiously but obeyed nonetheless. As she did so, the carvings glowed orange, and a loud crack ensued.

"What was that?" she asked removing her hand in surprise.

"Take a look at your membership trinket," Elisabeth smiled, waving at her hand

Victoria looked at the ring she wore and noticed a small crack in it.

"What does this mean?"

"It was a safety precaution. I wanted to make sure you were not loyal to them. It wouldn't have cracked otherwise," she told her, satisfied. "If you truly wish to work for me, you must take the Delacourt Oath."

"The what?"

"The Delacourt Oath. You will have to serve the Delacourt name, but it is a complex matter, and I will let Alfred, the butler you met on your way in, explain it to you. He will also tell me if you are worthy of our trust. You see, he may not be a Telepath, but he does have... other abilities."

Not long after that meeting, Victoria had become part of the Resistance. As they worked together, Elisabeth found her to be strong for a powerless Mortal, brave, smart, and very advanced for her time.

The Headmistress had listened as she spoke of a world where woman and man would be treated as equals, where sexuality and religious beliefs would be kept private and never be used as an excuse for violence. She saw her weep over the death of an animal, watched her cut off the private parts of a rapist, and witnessed how she'd slit the throat of the doctor who had gouged out the wondrous blue eyes of a Poseidon Physical.

And she'd been there, too, when her friend had stood in front of a room full of Nazi soldiers, begging for their lives. As they'd wept and tried to defend their actions, saying that they had had no choice, Victoria's eyes had blazed in fury, and she had brushed their excuses aside with a single sentence:

"You could have said no."

Desperately trying to forget the world around them as it teetered towards the brink of self-destruction, they'd become friends, and then lovers. Elisabeth had found her to be exceptional in bed, and as a Physical of the Feline Branch, that was actually saying something.

It was nice to rediscover that aspect of Victoria, she thought as they made their way into her bedroom for the night.

During breakfast the next morning, the Headmistress looked at her friend fondly and thought of how things would have been if he had been there. She would have been just as important, of course, but she would also have had six children. One of them would have played a pivotal role in the development of their world, in fact.

It did comfort her in her choice, for who better to take care of the most important child in the world if not someone who was capable of raising six of them?

And Carcassonne was the best place to raise a child, for it was also very far from any Black Rose activity, and there was a certain level of anonymity in Provence that she appreciated.

Victoria caught Elisabeth staring at her and smiled teasingly.

"Can we at least take the jet? I'm about to be poor for the next two decades of my life, can I appreciate some luxury? And anyway, I have all my weapons with me; I'll be arrested if you don't get me a special pass."

The Headmistress laughed.

"Certainly. But I know you. You might have to act poor, but you'll be sneaking off for spa treatments and fine dining in Paris as often as you can."

"French cuisine? Oh, what a lovely thought..."

Elisabeth chuckled as she watched Victoria's eyes glaze over longingly.

They made their way to the airport leaving a concerned looking Alfred behind and took the Delacourt jet that was waiting for them. Victoria spent the journey studying her file, asking an occasional question, while Elisabeth dosed off next to her.

Upon arrival, they took a taxi to the Delacourt Sanctuary outside Montpellier. Elisabeth had created many sanctuaries like this all over the world for people like her and had made sure they would be a safe haven, warded, protected from the outside world, impenetrable by any who wished them harm.

One of her agents was waiting for them at the entrance. Apparently, nothing much ever happened in their sector, so he welcomed the change in their routine eagerly.

"What about the file I asked for? Have you found the pregnant girl?"

Elisabeth wanted to avoid any unnecessary chit-chat and hadn't even waited to be inside to start her enquires.

"Yes boss," said the closet-shaped man.

Although it was hot, he was wearing a black pea jacket, a fedora and big dark glasses, obviously trying to hide the green shimmer of his skin. He had a heavy New York accent, and could definitely pass off as a mobster.

"We have a team in the city, waiting for your instructions. The girl is in hospital, and we've been told she is due by the end of the week."

Elisabeth frowned. It was good that they had found her, but that didn't leave them a lot of time to make the necessary arrangements.

"Anything else I should know about?"

"Yes ma'am. There has been an unusual increase in Physical activity lately."

The Headmistress raised her eyebrows.

"Meaning?"

"Well - how shall I put this - any Physical following protocol comes to us when they want to visit this area and stay a while. We might get one every five or six years, but lately..."

"Yes?"

"We've had seventeen over the past fortnight alone. We've turned them all down, of course, especially since your call. But something odd is happening, something magical for sure. I can feel it in the air; we can all feel it, ma'am."

Her face remained impassive as she nodded.

"Thank you, Jonas. Now give me an update on all my agents in your sector."

After a quick business lunch, they left for Carcassonne, borrowing a car from the sanctuary.

It was close to the end of summer, and according to the pamphlet that Victoria was reading, the city was going to be packed with tourists.

"There is an art museum," Victoria told her, "and there are some famous wines around here -yum- and the medieval fortress is supposed to be breathtaking!"

"Yes. In a couple of years, this town will be added to the UNESCO list of World Heritage Sites."

"And you know this how?" Victoria asked, sounding unsurprised.

"Oh you know..." she answered, changing lanes on the motorway as they approached Narbonne.

Elisabeth had been fighting for years to get it on the list, but she didn't feel like explaining.

"No I don't, but I know I'll never get a straight answer from you!" her friend replied cheerfully, cracking open her window.

The South of France was unusually hot, Elisabeth noted as she drove, although it could have just been the difference with London. She opened her white blouse, and loosened her belt a little, regretting the formal suit. Victoria by her side seemed so comfortable in her light jersey, flowery summer dress and sandals, and she wondered if for once, she should relax a little.

She tightened her grip on the steering wheel. No. There was no time for that. She could always relax in eighteen years once he had returned.

They soon arrived at the city of Carcassonne and drove straight to the hospital. The town was indeed packed with tourists, but thankfully the address was on the outskirts, so they avoided most of the traffic. The carpark was practically deserted, and they waited patiently near the car until they were approached by two very large men who fell to their knees before Elisabeth immediately.

"You don't need to do that here, boys," she smiled at them. She was happy to see them. They were of the Animal Branch, like her, and she wanted nothing more for them than to run free in the forest together. But it was impossible - she hadn't been able to go for a good run with her fellow Immortals for over fifty years. The Purge had made it so dangerous. The first thing Elisabeth had done, when she'd become the leader of the Resistance, was to forbid anything that would make them show up on Black Rose radars, like running in packs, or flying in murmurations.

They nodded to Victoria, who smiled at them and stepped aside. This was none of her business.

"Mrs. Delroy, it is wonderful to see you here," said the largest and definitely the most handsome of the two. He smiled, kissing her hand, and let his lips linger a little longer than necessary on her soft skin.

Elisabeth laughed.

"Oh Antoine, do stop the tease. And yes, it is nice to see you too."

He brought out a file from the inside pocket of his leather coat and handed it to her.

"Here is the file, and photos from this past week. Who she has been with, for how long. She's a sneaky one this Marie, she's been arrested seven times over the past year, and she's actually supposed to be supervised, but she manages to leave the hospital at least once a day. We have no idea how she does it, and no one else does, either. She always goes to the same place: a greenhouse, open to the public, but she goes into the inner sanctum which is for authorised personnel only."

"Any idea what she does in there?"

He shrugged.

"Talks to herself, mostly. She walks a lot, but doesn't eat much, even for a tiny Mortal."

"What else can you tell me about her?"

"Everything is in the file. Background and last known address. She doesn't have any friends or family. She's the lonely type, it seems."

"Poor child. Okay. Thank you, Antoine. I'll read this as soon as possible. Don't go too far: I might still need you."

Antoine raised his eyebrows and looked at his companion.

"We weren't planning on leaving, Elisabeth. You are far from the Academy, and we do not have a sanctuary here."

"Where have you set up the safe house?"

"Near the Lac de la Cavayère."

"I am not familiar with that place," she frowned.

"Artificial lake, built in 88. It's safe, well, the forest surrounding it is, for the moment."

"Good. Then we will meet you there when we are done."

The men nodded and left.

"What now?" asked Victoria, as they made their way to the hospital entrance.

"We go in, and find the girl."

Victoria let Elisabeth go to the front desk on her own. Everybody knew the Headmistress was good at convincing people and she watched in amusement as her friend started chatting up one of the nurses. Before long, she had the girl's room number and special permission to see her despite visiting hours having just ended.

"I love seeing you convince random people to sell you their kidney," Victoria chuckled as they waited for the elevator.

"It's all in the purr," Elisabeth winked.

That and the fact that she had the ability to render people docile when she spoke, like an auditory GHB. It didn't last long, but it was extremely useful.

"What's wrong with her?" Victoria inquired as Elisabeth sifted through the big file Antoine had given her.

They had arrived in the maternity ward and were looking at her through a window which didn't allow any kind of privacy for the patient inside.

They had been quick to find Marie, lying on a simple bed and turned towards the outside window. She was terribly thin and the baby growing inside made her seem unnaturally distorted.

"She wanted to get rid of it."

"Well, it's good that she didn't. It's good she fought for the baby."

"No," Elisabeth shook her head as she read the file, "it says here she tried to terminate the pregnancy, but the procedure didn't work. By the time she realised it, it was too late. She tried other more extreme methods and was forcefully interned in a psychiatric ward. She was released into this maternity only to give birth but will then be sent back."

There was a silence.

"So the child is to be adopted? Those are her wishes?"

"I had Antoine deal with the paperwork."

"How old is she? Doesn't she have any parents?"

The Headmistress sighed and closed the folder, tucking it under her arm.

"Antoine did his research well. He actually went far beyond what was asked of him. It's the usual sad story: single mother brought her up, turned to prostitution to survive, got beat up one day by one of her clients, went to the hospital but disappeared leaving her daughter to fend for herself. Marie got tossed through foster families until she was sixteen. She got pregnant and got kicked out, officially because she was a troublemaker who got herself pregnant by her boyfriend. Unofficially though, it was the foster family's fault. The elder brother raped her. The family covered for him and kicked her out."

Victoria shook her head.

"Wonderful. If things were different, I would take care of the family myself."

"I know, but that is not why we are here."

Elisabeth could feel Victoria's anger, and she patted her shoulder.

"Are you alright?"

"What about the girl? Can't you take her in after the birth?" Victoria asked, ignoring her question.

She smiled sadly and shook her head.

"She's not going to survive."

"Oh right, you told me this already. It's just hard to imagine when I see her there lying down. And the way you say it, you sound so certain, how do you know exactly?"

"I just know."

"She looks very weak and tired."

Elisabeth rechecked the file.

"Yes. She is."

They fell silent again as they were both reminded of just how unfair the world was. Elisabeth wondered if Victoria was thinking of breaking one of the Fold's fundamental laws and using magic to cure a human for personal reasons.

Victoria brightened suddenly and put her fist against the window.

"Well, if I have time after the adoption goes through, I can at least take care of the rapist. Nothing too horrendous. A little spell maybe? Something to make his life miserable - I could make his cock permanently limp, for example. I'm sure I can think of something."

Elisabeth chuckled.

"I've always liked just how ruthless you are, but I think Antoine will beat you to it. He has a specific... taste for rapists. He said he was staying in the area for us, but I've known him for a while now. He'll be waiting for us to leave and will take care of this himself."

They watched as the girl turned to face them.

She somehow didn't look as miserable as before, on the contrary, and she smiled at them, her thin lips practically white as they mouthed a thank you, waving at them weakly.

"Do you think she heard us?" asked Victoria, taken aback.

"She isn't an Immortal, but she is special, what with the child she's carrying. It's quite possible she did. And if that's the case, I'm sorry I said anything."

She was only half surprised, but even so, they should have been more careful.

"Don't be. She seems relieved."

Elisabeth, on the other hand, was not relieved at all. She felt sad for the young girl, with her sunken cheeks, pale complexion and big brown eyes. She wished she could do more than just wait, but Marianne and Charles would be flying in the next morning to pose as the adoptive family, and she was anxious for it all to end. Not because of the importance of the child, but because her instinct was begging for her to leave and return to the Academy.

Dammit, it must be the second sign.

"Are you alright?"

Elisabeth opened her eyes and realised she was using the wall to hold herself up.

"Yes. Let's call it a night. We'll pop over to the airport and grab your future daughter and son in law tomorrow morning. We'll head over to the safe house by the lake for now. Knowing Antoine, he'll have done up a cosy bed for us, and we can end this. I'm starving! As for the child, we shouldn't have long to wait. I heard one of the nurses say the girl is to be induced by the end of the week if she hasn't gone into labour on her own."

Victoria nodded, and they left.

"She doesn't smell special," sniffed Marianne.

The two women had picked up the child's future parents and had gone to the hospital the next morning to check up on the mother.

Victoria went inside directly to chat with Marie who seemed very happy with the distraction. She was sitting upright in the bed today, and Elisabeth was too polite to eavesdrop. Instead, she was waiting outside with her two agents, looking in through the window.

"And what does "special" smell like?" she asked apathetically.

"Oh, I don't know... like hot chocolate on a cold winter's night maybe? Or eggnog on Christmas morning, with spicy gingerbread to go with it."

Elisabeth turned to Marianne, whose eyes were cold and empty.

Perhaps it was a bad idea to leave a child in her care.

No, Victoria would help out. It would be fine.

The Headmistress sighed.

"She might not smell like anything in particular, but the boy in her belly will be more "special" than any individual you have ever encountered. He probably won't smell of hot chocolate or eggnog either, but he is a saviour to our people and what he will do when he comes of age will be a lot nicer than winter beverages."

There was a small silence as Elisabeth turned back to look at Marie.

"I'm just warning you, I loathe children. They are so... dependent."

"Yes, I know Marianne, and that is exactly why I picked you."

"And in the meantime, Ma'am?" Charles asked, visibly nonplussed by their exchange.

"We continue to fight. We continue to protect our people, and we continue to hope that more will join our cause."

"Not many of us left, ma'am," he sniffed, as he placed his hand on the window leaving a dirty mark.

"I know," the Headmistress paused, wondering how a man of his age still hadn't managed to master the most basic rules of hygiene, "but it won't be long now until things start looking up."

"We just need a win," he muttered, looking disheartened.

"This child is our win."

With those words, Elisabeth gave a tap on the window, indicating to Victoria that it was time to leave.

"They have a Sniffer in the hospital!" Elisabeth snarled, her voice sounding almost inhuman.

They had taken the elevator downstairs, but the man she was referring to was leaning against the wall between them and the doors to the parking lot outside.

"What are we supposed to do?" chorused the two agents whose fear had become apparent immediately.

"You two, go straight to the safe house near the lake. Take the back door. Victoria and I will take care of him," she ordered, her voice unchanged.

She clenched her fists and her fingers cracked. Marianne and Charles didn't hesitate; they had already left by the time Victoria turned around to check on them.

"Beth," she said softly, looking at her friend pleadingly.

"What is it?"

"Please, Elisabeth," she begged, placing her hand on her shoulder, trying to connect with her intimately. "Go with them. We can't lose you."

"You won't. I'm not leaving you alone with him."

"You must. I am untouchable. You know my relationship with Lord Daemon protects me."

"You came here unofficially. You have neither the proper documents nor an invitation. You are in as much danger as I am."

"I can deal with him. I think I recognise him, in fact. I have training, and you are more important to the cause than any of us put together. Please."

Elisabeth unclenched her fists and nodded. Victoria blinked, and she was gone, leaving her alone in the dimly lit hospital corridor.

Victoria was a traitor.

She had always been a traitor.

She would always be a traitor.

She was born in the late 1800's, although she couldn't say when or where exactly as she'd ended up on the streets of London at a very early age. As a child, she'd begged for leftover bread as a way to survive the day, and later on, she'd learnt how to fend for herself using her good looks and keen intellect. She'd learnt how to read and write thanks to Sunday school - the pastor was a kind man who'd let her sit through the lessons and had even tutored her when he knew he could get away with it.

She was a stunningly beautiful teenager, and many men had asked her for sexual favours in exchange for the world, but she'd valued her dignity more, and although times had often been tough, she made it through them, knowing she was tougher.

One snowy February afternoon, however, hungrier than usual and her beggar days behind her, (she had turned to thieving as a means to an end) she decided to pick on a very special prey.

She had spotted him sitting outside a restaurant alone and guessed he was single, or at least could be prone to her charms, as she felt somehow that he was lonely. She had taught herself to recognise loneliness, perhaps because her prey was easier to seduce or maybe she hadn't taught herself at all, but simply recognised in others the familiar feeling. She watched him further and realised that this lonely man was also incredibly handsome.

He must have been of a certain age, too, although she wasn't quite sure what that age was, as his hair was as white as the snow that fell upon it, but his features polished and dainty, without a wrinkle or crease.

He seemed uncomfortable sitting there in his suit, buttoning and unbuttoning his jacket over and over again, folding and unfolding the newspaper in his hands, puffing away at a cigarette as he drank his tea.

It was extremely cold that day, and everyone had chosen to stay indoors, but not him, to the dismay of the waiter, who could be seen cursing under his breath every time he had to leave the warmth of the restaurant to attend this very unusual customer.

This had piqued her curiosity, and she thought she would use her charms to swipe his watch. Maybe a peck on the cheek would allow her enough reach to grab his purse.

Victoria was a good thief, an excellent one, even. In fact, she had built up quite a reputation of her prowess, so much so that she had been approached many times by street gangs, head bullies, and other bad people who wished to employ her. She had refused them all, and when one particularly nasty piece of man, small in size with a face that smiled a little too much, had told her that if she declined his offer, she would end up in the gutter with her throat slit, well, she'd slit his instead, without an ounce of regret.

After that, people left her alone, and she had returned to petty theft and pickpocketing, just enough to get by, but not enough to get into too much trouble. Most of the men she targeted were married, and it was difficult for them to admit to either police or wife that they had let a beautiful young lady come close enough to steal from them. Thus most of her crimes went unreported, and that was exactly how she liked it.

She approached him curiously, wondering how it was possible he could withstand such low temperatures, without even the hint of a shiver. The streets were empty, save for the occasional Rolls-Royce that would drive past them slowly, or the on-duty policeman, his head tucked deep into his collar as he patrolled.

"May I ask you for a light, sir?" she smiled at him, using her special sultry voice.

"Of course my lady," he said, putting down his newspaper at once and bringing out a little matchbox from his pocket, "and if you would please have a seat and keep me company during my afternoon tea, I would be honoured."

He stood up and walked up to the seat in front of her, pulling out the chair, as he returned her smile.

"Thank you," she accepted graciously. He dusted off the snow from her chair and tucked it in under her, lighting the match with a swift move.

She could do with some tea, she thought, after all, she was cold, and it was gone four o'clock. Just because she was a criminal, it didn't mean she had no manners.

"Please, take my coat," the man said, removing it and placing it over her shoulders.

For once, she wasn't sure how to respond and realised she would probably not have the upper hand in their exchange. He was even more handsome from up close, and his voice was deliciously hypnotic, captivating her every sense. Thieving required a clear mind and hers was definitely becoming misty.

She would have to be careful, so she chose not to speak, instead watching him as he ordered a plate of biscuits and a new pot of tea from the disgruntled waiter.

He was so different from the men she had encountered before, and she wondered if what she felt at that precise moment was love, or merely the lust of a woman who had finally met her equal.

"Are you sure you are not cold?" she asked, feeling guilty.

Why was she feeling guilty? She was going to rob the man!

"I am fine, and even if I weren't, I would rather see your cheeks splashed with colour than suffer a moment of comfort knowing you are not at ease."

"You speak like a poet."

She smiled again, breathing in the perfume that lightly imbued his coat. It was soft and lined with fur, probably worth more than what she could steal in a year.

"It is a beautiful coat."

"Only because it is worn by you. If I may return the compliment, and be so bold as to suggest that your dress was made for my eyes only, for sapphire blue is by far my favourite colour."

With such kind words, she wondered if perhaps, for once, she should use her charms on him and let him seduce her a little, and maybe, just maybe, steal from him only after they had shared a more intimate moment.

She looked up at him slowly from under her long eyelashes, letting the steam from her tea warm her face as she waited before taking a sip, biting down delicately on her lower lip.

He crossed his legs and swallowed as discreetly as he could, but she had noticed and knew, now, that he was not impervious to her methods. She blew on her cup, heaving her chest with a little sigh of pleasure.

He wouldn't last a minute.

He suddenly threw his head back and laughed, the sound painting the streets with sunlight, throwing her completely off guard. Only when he had finished did he look back at her with his dark, knowing eyes.

"I have not laughed like this for centuries," he mused, wiping away a tear before he continued. "I appreciate your efforts, and for some strange reason I am indeed weak in the knees as my eyes feast upon your beauty, but I doubt robbing me will be as easy as you had initially planned."

"I - I don't understand," she stammered, not knowing if she should run, or maybe slap him for even suggesting she were a thief.

"Please, have no fear. I have been searching for you for over a week, and I am pleased we have finally met."

"Why would you be looking for me at all?" she asked, pursing her lips and frowning like a little girl caught with her hand in a jar of biscuits.

"I just want to talk," he said reassuringly, and she relaxed immediately.

The snow fell slowly around them, cradling the view, and turning the world into a silent haven.

"Your exploits as a thief have come to my ears, and that in itself is rare. I work for an organisation, for people with special gifts and I wish you to become a part of it. I know you shall equate me to a madman, but I give you my word that what I am about to reveal is the truth. There is a world, hidden in plain sight, a world only those who have been exposed to can witness, a world of magic and an immensity of power you could barely comprehend, but it is there, in the shadows, in the fold of a piece of fabric that only the sharpest eye can see. We are Immortal, we are Psychic, we are more than just a curious white-haired man drinking tea outside on a cold winter's day. I work to seek the truth of this world, to unveil its mysteries and protect those who would fall prey to the greedy, the ignorant and the less evolved minds. I wish for you to come with me and allow me to show you my world. A world where a man can bend steel with his mind, or turn water to ice, with a simple snap of his fingers."

Victoria didn't answer. She just sighed and put down her cup.

"You do not seem surprised," said the beautiful man with his eyebrows raised.

"Well, that would be because I am not. I already know of the Fold, and of magic, and these special abilities you speak of."

"Then it is I who am surprised. How exactly do you know all of this?"

"I have been on the streets my entire life. You cannot survive long without knowing certain things. People think that the unfortunate, beggars, thieves, and woman of pleasure are all blind and stupid, so they are careless around us. You become careless around us, and yes, I have seen what you can do, as have many of us and I do not think I want to be a part of it."

The man stood up and nodded.

"But have you no questions? Nothing I could say or do to change your mind?"

"You might be Immortal and by what you said beforehand, one that has lived many lives, but you are all the same. You wish to exploit my talents for your gain. Why would I say yes to your proposition? What would I gain out of it?"

"You would never need to steal again, and no matter what I ask of you, you would always be free to say no."

"Then no," she said, smiling sadly.

She knew she would probably never see him again, and the pain she felt in her heart was as close to loss as she had ever felt but she did not wish to have to answer to anybody but herself.

"I would never insist a woman or man do anything that would make them uncomfortable. I would like, however, to ask of you to give me a chance. Come and work for me and I will show you the world as it should be seen by every soul who walks this earth. Here, I shall leave you these matches; the address is on the box. You may choose to come, or not, but if you do you can ask for the director."

She picked up the matchbox and smiled.

"I shall consider your proposition, but you may keep the matches. I know exactly where to find you."

The special organisation he had been speaking of was, of course, the London Black Rose, a group of Psychic Immortals who ruled the Fold, a world unseen by Mortal men, yet present all around.

Her gut feeling had told her to trust him, and so she had, for it had never wronged her yet, and a few days later she had gone to meet with him.

By the end of the week, she had been given an apartment in the classier part of town and was wearing fancy clothes to suit her new, fancy job.

The white-haired man who had recruited her went by the name of Lord Daemon and had turned out to be the Head of the London Branch. He was one of the oldest and most respected Immortals in the world, and soon after their first meeting, he had become her lover. The affair had never ended.

The day she had enrolled however, her gut had given her a warning.

Although she knew she could trust Lord Daemon, more than anyone else in the world of crazies she had just entered, the Black Rose Sanctuary was not a sanctuary at all.

When the time came, she knew she would betray them in an instant if she deemed it necessary.

It had taken a couple of decades, but the day the Death order was sent out, and the Purge of all Physical Immortals began, she'd sat down in a very different office than the ones she was used to, the office of a strong and feisty woman with gold bushy hair, matching her golden eyes, called Elisabeth Delroy.

She'd taken the Delacourt Oath, and that was that.

They'd saved hundreds of Physicals since then, securing them, giving them new identities and continuously moving them around so they'd remain undetected by the Black Rose. She continued to work for the Psychics, officially, giving a head's up to the Academy as soon as a group of Resistance was located, so they'd have time to escape. And for a while, things had been looking up - although Elisabeth would scream and yell that it wasn't enough, of course.

But once the Black Rose opened up their special Branch, specifically trained to track, capture, torture and kill Physicals... well, unfortunately, the hundreds they saved each and every year turned into dozens - if that - and in the last couple of decades, well... they were lucky if they saved even one a year.

Sniffers. She knew there was a special place in Hell for them.

Once the Purge had begun, and the Tree of Powers had been poisoned, stopping the birth of all future Physicals, the few that remained had had to be dealt with.

She'd heard Sniffers boast about how they had slaughtered children.

Oh yes. There was a very special place in hell for them, she was sure.

She focused on the man leaning against the wall, wearing plain office clothes under a long navy coat.

He had his eyes closed and almost seemed to be resting, but she knew he was scanning the minds of the people around him, which meant he was looking for someone.

Immortals generally had only one power, but Sniffers were chosen for their innate ability to sense Physicals around them. They could also read the minds of the weaker willed; an ability grafted onto them like an extra limb.

Victoria was technically only there for the baby, but if she could save a Physical at the same time, well, that would really make her year.

His hair was a mess, and his unshaven beard meant he hadn't reported back to headquarters in quite a while. Come to think of it, they were in Carcassonne, which meant the closest Black Rose Sanctuary was in... Marseille? That was a three-hour drive unless he used the teleportation services.

Victoria hated the French Black Rose: they were cold, procedural experts, prone to too much talk and bureaucracy. Even the English hated them, although the Marseille Black Rose did have a better reputation than the Paris ones.

The Sniffer moved, and his head turned in her direction.

Yes. Go on. Look at me.

A-ha.

She'd been right. She had recognised him.

She'd seen him once before, maybe four years back at a seminar in London. He wasn't physically impressive, nor did he have the kind of face to stick in your mind, but he had been personally congratulated by the new Head of the London Black Rose for his work with the Polar Physicals back in Egypt.

She shuddered as she remembered the special chambers.

Polars were a specific kind of Physical that were so intolerant to heat that their skin would literally peel off if they were exposed to it too long. Once they had been studied to the broadest possible extent, they had been transferred to the desert in Egypt and left to die in the sun.

Not one of them survived longer than a week, and she had wanted to slit the throats of all those who had been a part of the massacre.

This Sniffer had been one of three, organising their termination, turning the deaths of three dozen innocent men and woman into a show, broadcast live on Fold TV, in every Black Rose, forcing them all to watch.

She remembered the pride on his face when the Head of London had shaken his hand.

Yes. No matter how dull the man was, she was never going to forget him.

She smiled at him knowingly, and he understood immediately that she wanted to speak business, following her inside the cafeteria nearby.

She went up to the lady behind the counter to ask for a cup of tea.

With her mug in one hand, Victoria took a deep breath before sitting down in front of him, dipping the tea bag in the steaming water.

"Bloody French, they keep giving me vanilla flavoured hot water, calling it tea. The heresy."

The Sniffer looked at her curiously as she tasted it and made a face.

"Madame, why are you here?"

She smiled.

"Please, go ahead and read my mind."

He stared at her blankly for a couple of seconds while she poured the small packet of powdered milk into the water, making an already horrible looking drink look much worse.

He refocused and looked somewhat put out.

"I seem to be unable to do so."

"Go on."

"You must have special training, Madame."

"Yes, which means, if you have guessed correctly, that I am high enough in rank to tell you that the reason for my presence here is classified."

She touched her ring finger with her right hand, and a ring appeared. It was shaped like a rose, giving off the full blast of a fresh bouquet. A mark she belonged to them - or so they thought.

One of the petals was white, and another red. The others were black.

The man in front of her apologised immediately.

"Madame, forgive me. I should never have asked."

"You couldn't have known, could you?"

"No, Madame."

"Your name is... Rayneheart, isn't it?"

The man seemed surprised she knew it and nodded.

"I saw you years ago at the Head's office in London. You were receiving your badge of merit for your work with the Polars."

He smiled, and Victoria knew instantly that she had him wrapped around her little finger.

Of course. The only thing Psychics possessed that was bigger than their ignorance and cruelty was their ego.

"May I add that I was very impressed by your work," she continued, smiling sweetly.

Rayneheart uncrossed his arms and combed his hair back with his fingers. He seemed to relax at her every word. Oh, this was a good sign indeed.

"Well, Madame, I was only doing my duty."

"Nonsense, you went far beyond your duty, providing some much deserved downtime to a tense Black Rose. Times were difficult, and it was nice to sit back and relax in front of such an interesting show."

"I don't know how to thank you for your kind words."

"Well, you could invite me to dinner for a start, somewhere where they make a decent cup of tea. Carcassonne, although very pretty, is bursting with tourists at this time of the year, which is rendering my task very difficult."

"I would love to, Madame, but I am also on a mission, and my window of opportunity will soon close."

"I understand... Lord Daemon will be most upset with me if I do not finish by the end of this week."

"Lord Daemon? The Lord Daemon?"

"Do you know of another?"

The man swallowed and straightened his posture.

"Madame, may I assist you with your task?"

"Why yes, that would be lovely, perhaps we could go to a more secluded place to talk? One where I could get a decent cup of tea?"

"I am currently renting a place outside the castle's ramparts. And I have tea."

"Lovely!"

Ten minutes later, Victoria was sitting in his car and had lifted up her skirt to reveal the perfect amount of thigh, just enough to seduce without being vulgar.

The man by her side seemed interested, and why wouldn't he be? After all, she was trained in the art of seduction and had fulfilled hundreds of missions using her femininity as a weapon. She was perfect for the job, known throughout the Black Rose under the nickname Monroe. She had swayed the unswayable, from politicians to young princes, old businessman to famous actors. It was her job, and she was good at it. That, and she had a few tricks up her sleeve...

"Pardon my curiosity Rayneheart, but if we are to work together, I need to know what you are capable of."

"You mean my power."

"I know I am not allowed to ask directly, but I do not have time to get a hold of my superior and ask for all the information the Black Rose has on you. You do understand, don't you?"

"Of course, Madame. Maybe you could guess what it is instead?"

"That sounds like fun," she smiled.

"You remember my work on the Polars?"

"Yes of course, who could forget."

"I was asked to work on their case specifically because of my ability."

"Go on."

"Their greatest weakness is my power."

Great. A Fire Immortal. That's all I need, she thought through gritted teeth and a fake smile.

"I've never been with an Scorcher before," she said slipping her hand on his thigh and bringing it as close to his crotch as was possible without causing a car accident.

His body was responding wonderfully and when his trousers tightened - she tightened her grip all the more.

"Madame, I am flattered. I thought we were to deal with business."

"Pleasure first. It was a long plane ride, and I need to unwind," she purred, thinking of Elisabeth's words at the hospital.

Rayneheart's driving somehow increased in speed and before long, he was parking in front of a very dreary looking building. They were definitely far from any tourist area by now, and she couldn't even see the city walls from where they were standing. It was windy - the city of Carcassonne was known to the locals as "the city of two winds" after all, and a helpful gust lifted up her dress slightly, making him blush.

He opened the front door and invited her inside the building. There was no lift, and he was renting on the third floor. Everything looked old, and if the smell inside were any indication, the other tenants were probably older still.

The key stuck in the door but he gave it a push and revealed a cosy looking flat, with shelves covering every wall, full of books of all kinds.

It was small. A single bedroom, a bathroom, and a small balcony connecting the sitting room to the kitchen.

You could see the entire flat no matter where you were inside it, so it was actually quite a smart layout, with no blind spots, but it was not smart for a Fire Immortal to be surrounded by so many books.

"Why are you not following protocol? No offence intended I am just curious as to why a Sniffer would rent amidst the locals. If there were a fight, you would be exposed. Not to mention your power could burn these flats down."

"Exactly for that reason. I can go perfectly undetected if I blend in. Nobody would think of looking for me here."

"Who would come looking for you?" she asked him, genuinely curious.

"I have made many enemies since the barbecue in Egypt."

He seemed pleased with his little pun and was swelling up his chest. Victoria wanted to rip his heart out through his knee caps but forced herself to smile.

"Barbecue? Sniffers and their sense of humour..."

"Originally," he said, taking off his coat and placing it on the back of the sofa, "we weren't called Sniffers. We were called "Peacekeepers", but I don't know, someone gave us the nickname "Sniffers", and the term stuck. Soon, everyone was calling us that."

"Really?" she inquired, knowing full well that it had been Elisabeth who'd made the change.

"No way in all the heavens and hells are they going to call them Peacekeepers!" She'd rarely seen her friend so angry and hadn't dared to ask why that word had been so important to her.

Victoria really wanted that cup of tea and made her way to the Kitchen.

A table and four chairs around it; a fridge, a single cupboard, a kettle and coffee machine, a small sink and microwave... This was definitely the flat of a single, older man.

"Oh yes," he paused, "are you looking for something?"

"A cup of tea if you don't mind," she gestured towards the cupboard hoping it was full of her leafy friends.

She removed her jersey placing it on the back of a chair.

"To be honest with you, I haven't thought about Sniffers in years. I thought you would all be out of a job by now."

"Why?" he asked, inviting her to sit down.

"Well, they're all gone, aren't they? I mean, except for maybe the odd one..."

"Is that what they are saying behind our backs?" he chuckled, turning on the kettle and bringing out a mug and a collection of tea bags.

Victoria sat down and crossed her legs.

The sun had started to set, turning the outside into a golden painting.

Soon.

"Well, yes, I mean we know there is the occasional fish that falls through the net, but you've taken care of most of them, haven't you?"

"My Branch specialises in Physicals. Trust me: there are many fish and many holes in the net. We also believe that some Psychics are... you know... sympathisers."

"I have heard the rumour. But with the Mind Readers and the random sweeps though, we should be safe enough."

"Unless the sweeps are not enough."

The kettle pinged, and he poured the water into her mug. He apologised for the lack of sugar and milk, but she waved it away, reassuring him that she liked it black and bitter.

She sipped her tea whilst looking around the room. Rayneheart had taken a beer out of the fridge and seemed to be looking for something to nibble.

Victoria had been trained to assess a location the second she set foot in it. Actually, she hadn't even entered the apartment before she knew there was an easy balcony access that she could use, and a fire escape system leading to the roof of the building.

Now that she was in the actual flat though, she had determined many things, three of which were to her advantage:

First, she could do whatever she pleased without a witness, as none of the windows were overlooked.

Second, he had a briefcase which she recognised as Black Rose property and had left it lying around on the coffee table in plain sight.

And finally, he was quite obviously an idiot.

Half-way through her mug, she asked if she could use the bathroom to "freshen up" and his eyes twinkled at the words.

Definitely an idiot.

She still had her handbag on her shoulder and checked she had all the essentials as she made her way to the loo.

She just needed one last piece of information.

Shower? Or bath?

Brilliant. Bathtub it was.

The walls were also covered in bright blue retro tiles, which would make clean-up easier.

When she returned to the kitchen, she found Rayneheart sweating, sitting on a chair at the kitchen table with his hands against his forehead, his beer spilled all over the floor.

"What is happening to me?" he groaned.

Victoria approached and put her hand on his face.

"You are burning up. Come, let's get you to the shower."

She placed her arm around him and helped him to the bathroom. Each step seemed to be more painful for him than the one before, and he finally lost the use of his legs, forcing her to wrestle him into the bathtub herself.

He lay there fully clothed, and she turned him around, so he would be sitting rather than lying. She placed his legs as naturally as she could, slipping some folded towels under the side of his head, so that it could rest instead of lie crooked.

"I'll be back in a second," she said quietly, and she went into the sitting room, placing her handbag on the sofa and stripping down to nothing but her underwear.

She grabbed a leather pouch from her bag, and walked back into the bathroom, opening it up on the sink and bringing out what looked like a small knitting needle, metallic and shiny.

"I don't suppose you came in your underwear to please me?" he muttered, with a mix of hatred and fear in his eyes.

"'Fraid not," she said plainly, taking out some towels from the cupboard under the sink.

"When?"

"When what?"

"When did you poison me?"

She checked her watch. It was probably very uncomfortable for him to breath by now.

"In the car, when I squeezed your leg. You had a rush of blood to all the right places as I touched you and I used that rush as a way to distract you from the slight prick."

"Women," he snarled.

"Men," she laughed.

She knelt by the tub and lifted his trousers, sinking her weapon above his heal twice. She then proceeded to do the same with the other foot.

Raynheart's face lost its colour, but he remained silent.

"What are you doing to me?"

"I've just cut your peroneal tendons, to avoid you walking, although this is merely a precaution as the paralytic agent that runs through your veins should avoid you moving for the next eight hours at least. In my years of work, if I have learnt anything, is that you can never be too safe. Do not worry; it won't hurt,"

When she was done, she tucked his arms inside the bath and turned back to her pouch.

She washed her tool and placed it back carefully before choosing one this time that looked like a pocket knife.

"I'm now going to attend to your wrists. It's a slow process where I carve into your radial artery. If I were to cut it, you would be dead within a couple of minutes, but this process can take thirty, thirty-five minutes or so and I'll stop the bleeding before it kills you. I don't want you dead, but I need to weaken you enough to make sure you don't try and use your powers."

"Why?"

"Okay listen, the serum I used is specifically designed to paralyse the body while you keep your head clear so the person who requires information can get you to talk. It also stops you from screaming or yelling or shouting. Nothing more will come of this, and we can both go our separate ways once my mission is over."

"I am old. I have been tortured before. You don't scare me, and I am not afraid to die."

"I am not going to torture you, you silly man. I don't need to. My tools are laced with an extraordinary ingredient called dragon's blood. It's mainly used in the Physical world as a drug, but on Psychics? It works like a truth serum, I suppose, and will get you to talk one way or the other. I am sorry for the inconvenience, but your will has nothing to do with the information you are about to give me."

"I will never talk," he glared.

She sighed and patted him on the shoulder.

"Of course you won't. So why are you here exactly?"

His eyes went blank for a second, then a spurt of saliva fell from his mouth as his face twisted most unnaturally.

"I am here to hunt a Physical from an extinct race. They were rare even before the Purge, and if I manage to get my hands on her, I will get a promotion. She will have to promote me, and I can write my book about the last century of my life. I have all the details written down in a diary."

"That might be the stupidest and most convenient thing I have ever heard. What if you get caught?"

"Who would possibly be foolish enough to attack a Sniffer?"

"What if some Physicals want retaliation? You said yourself you could never be too safe."

"I said that to impress you. I only rent this flat because I don't like the one the Black Rose had originally chosen."

Victoria tried not to smile at this.

"Tell me about this Physical Immortal."

"She is going to sing at the summer concert inside the medieval city of Carcassonne tonight."

"Thank you for the information, Rayneheart."

He was getting paler by the minute, and the bathtub was filling with blood, staining his clothes. It was not a pretty scene, but Victoria knew it was necessary. She had been extra careful not to spray blood everywhere and looked down at her body to make sure she was clean.

"Why are you doing this? Are you a sympathiser?"

She smiled and left the bathroom, closing the door behind her.

It was time for another cup of tea.

While she waited for the hot water to boil, she sat down in front of the open briefcase. After going through it hastily, she found a black notebook which was indeed his diary. She turned to the last ten pages or so and read through it until she had acquired the information she needed.

It was very convenient indeed, and a little too easy, she thought uncomfortably. She dressed, no longer worried about spoiling her beautiful dress.

It was still light outside by the time she opened the window that gave onto the balcony, though the golden light was starting to turn a darker shade. The concert would only begin at ten, which left her around... three hours.

"Beth, I know you followed me here, and I know you can hear me. You need to get in here, now," she said calmly.

She sat down on the couch and lit a cigarette.

Elisabeth was by her side in less than a minute.

"Where is he?" she asked, her voice laced with concern

"Bathroom."

The Headmistress went to check on him immediately. She came back looking a little put out.

"What have you done to him?"

"Tired him out, so he can't use his powers."

"Did you have to slit his wrists?"

"Yes, I emptied most of his blood, weakening him."

Victoria checked her watch. She still had at least ten minutes before she would need to stitch him up.

"I'm not criticising your methods, you know," Elisabeth said, pouting.

It was sweet to see her like this. She was always the strong one, but Victoria knew that blood had a specific scent for people like Beth.

"Didn't think you were," Victoria laughed warmly as she stood up to go and make herself another cup of tea. "Want one?" she said, shaking a teabag in the air.

"No, thank you," her friend answered, scrunching her face. "Good lord, his blood smells disgusting!"

"I imagine. He's a Fire Immortal and I found his diary," she said gesturing towards the desk, "you don't have much time, there is a concert tonight. Inside the medieval city."

"Who is the target?"

"A woman, but he doesn't have her name; he thinks she has the power of the Voice."

Elisabeth didn't answer and stood there frozen until Victoria turned to check on her.

"Beth, do you know what this means?" Victoria said lowering her voice to almost a whisper.

"He's found a Nightingale."

"Yes. I thought they were extinct."

"They are. I mean, I thought so too. A Nightingale? Oh, if she agrees to work for us, do you know what she could do?"

"No. I have only heard rumours, and that was a long time ago."

Victoria was always curious and loved how her friend lit up every time she discussed the past.

"If a King brought a Nightingale to the battlefield, he would most likely win the war. These Physicals had the power to stop the fighting, just by singing, or they could start it if that was their desire. When they sing, they strip your soul bare, and no matter how lost you are, their songs will show you the way. A long time ago, there used to be Nightingale concerts... Oh Vic, if only you could see what I have seen. Their voice would bring out the power of the Physicals; it was something unique and special. I remember the Black Beast clans would sit and cry, as their darkness danced in a whirlwind of bliss by their side. It is the only sound in the world that can release the power within us so that it takes on its full celestial form, exiting our mind and body so we can see what we truly look like. It was always so beautiful. And that's just the beginning; they can do so much more. I can't even begin to express the importance of her survival if the Sniffer has indeed found a Nightingale. "

"What does their voice sound like?"

"I don't have the required arrogance to describe their voices with common words."

"What are Black Beasts? I have never heard of them."

"You wouldn't have. The last one was killed long before your time. For sport."

"What do you want to do?"

Elisabeth sat down to think. She nodded to herself after a couple of minutes and turned to Victoria.

"You have your mission; I'll take care of this one."

"Your mission is more important if she is the last one left," Victoria insisted.

"No it isn't, trust me. You have to get back to the hospital."

"What about...?" she said, nodding towards the bathroom.

"I can take care of him."

"I know you can Beth, but I was thinking, could you get Antoine for me? He's still at the safe house isn't he?"

"Yes, he is. Why?" Elisabeth asked, suspiciously.

"The man in the bathroom, that particular Sniffer? His name is Rayneheart, and he's one of the three responsible for the Polar massacre in Egypt."

The Headmistress smiled, and her eyes gleamed golden. She licked her lips as if she were about to devour her prey.

Victoria could have sworn she heard her growl, too.

"Yes. I'll send for Antoine at once. He lost his twin that day."

Elisabeth promised her it wouldn't take long.

Victoria didn't mind. She didn't want to go near the hospital with a Sniffer around, so she patiently waited with Raynheart. When it was time, she stitched him up and was even kind enough to put a pillow under his head so he could rest, replacing the sweat flooded towels that had fallen off his shoulder. He asked her more questions, but she didn't answer. It was pointless talking to a dead man, she thought, matter-of-factly. Elisabeth had taught the remaining Polars how to build up a resistance to heat and Antoine was one of the very few who was able to withstand Mediterranean temperatures. He had watched his friends and family die, and she knew Rayneheart wouldn't survive long. He deserved what was coming to him, in a way. Victoria would not interfere.

She went through his briefcase and asked him a few more questions, who had sent him here, how he had found the Nightingale and when he was expected to report back. The more she knew about his mission, the more she could protect herself.

Something was bothering her though; she knew she was missing something, but couldn't put her finger on it. She kept going through his belongings again and again and only relaxed when she heard Elisabeth's heels in the corridor.

"So, no balcony this time?" she smiled, turning to her friend.

"No. It's done. Antoine is on his way," Elisabeth smiled back, closing the front door.

Victoria nodded, frowning, a little put out by something.

Elisabeth noticed her friend's discomfort and a shadow passed over her face.

"Victoria," she said calmly. "What's wrong?"

The nagging feeling suddenly turned into an unpleasant taste in her mouth as she realised what she'd missed.

"Oh God," Victoria managed to say, her mouth going dry, "I forgot to ask him what he was doing at the hospital."

Elisabeth's canines extended and her jawline elongated, her features turning her into what looked more like a feline than a human. Victoria realised in growing horror that they were no longer alone and what's more, she could hear Raynheart laughing from the bathroom. The all too familiar "woosh" of the Black Rose teleportation system filled the room with electricity, and she heard her friend mutter something about a third sign. Victoria didn't understand what she meant and didn't have time to ask or even reach for her weapons before she felt a strong arm grab her by the shoulder, enveloping her in a cold whirlwind. It took a few moments for her to be able to focus on her new environment.

She had just been teleported into a hotel room.

"Tched?" she said weakly, steadying herself against a table.

"Yup. Don't worry babes; I got ya!"

"Dammit, I'm about to pass out," she wheezed, little white dots appearing in front of her eyes.

Tched helped her to sit down and got her a glass of water.

She closed her eyes for a second, to steady the world around her - or so she thought. When she opened them again, he was sitting down in front of her, reading a trashy magazine and sucking on a lollipop.

"Shit, how long have I been out for?" she asked him desperately, looking outside. She realised the sun had set and her mouth went dry.

"It's okay babes, just under an hour."

"An hour?!' she shrieked, standing up immediately. "Honey, you have to take me back!"

"I can't can I? There was a bloody Physical in the room with ya! Looked as if she was about to eat your lovely noggin!"

"You don't understand. Elisabeth isn't... oh forget it, it doesn't matter. I order you to take me back!"

Tched, who was wearing a bright orange extra tight jumpsuit opened up his eyes wide.

"Darlin, you know I luv ya. Are you sure? The Black Rose joost sent two more Sniffers to the flat, they're gonna take care of the luvely Physical and it's gonna be a bloodbath."

"Two more Sniffers?"

Victoria felt weak and the little amount of blood she had left in her cheeks drained.

"Get me back there now," she continued calmly, "and I want you gone before I even blink, you got that? Get to a sanctuary the second you drop me off and stay safe."

The man in front of her nodded and gave her a little hug before placing his hand back on her shoulder.

In a matter of seconds, she was back in Rayneheart's sitting room, and she looked around frantically, fearing the worst.

Elisabeth was sitting on the sofa calmly, drinking a cup of tea, her features back to normal.

Her suit, however, was splashed with blood.

"Are - are you alright?" Victoria asked, inspecting her friend quickly. "What happened? Tched said two more Sniffers were coming."

"They did. They're still here actually, in the bathtub with your friend. They can hardly move in there it's so small, not that I want them to."

She seemed okay, but her voice was strange, soft, sweet and sticky as if she were high on something. Definitely strange.

"Yes," she continued, "I'm quite pleased. Three Sniffers for the price of one, it's the win Charles was so desperately waiting for."

She smiled ferociously.

"I was a bit worried about you though. Was about to go on a murder spree in the closest Psychic sanctuary I found. What happened?"

"I passed out... Tched's teleportation was vicious. And I am a Mortal. It's like going from nothing to full roller coaster speed in a nanosecond. He usually only teleports Immortals anyway, and I can deal with it better if I actually know I'm about to be teleported. I also haven't eaten since breakfast."

"I'm sorry about that. I should have taken you out to lunch somewhere nice."

"Really? You are apologising? You idiot!"

Victoria couldn't help herself and collapsed onto her friends lap, hugging and kissing her profusely.

"It's okay, Vic. I'm fine."

"They were two highly trained Sniffers!"

"Yes, and if you go to the bathroom, you will see two knocked-out lumps, missing a few limbs, waiting for Antoine."

"How did you take care of two Sniffers at the same time?" she asked in admiration, refusing to leave Elisabeth's lap.

"I was trained by the best fighters this world has ever known, and I'm also old. Very old, in fact. Someone who should be feared, not attacked."

"Are you older than Lord Daemon?"

"I don't know his age. Why do you ask?"

"I've always wondered why his hair was white."

"Nearly all the elders of the Black Rose have white hair."

"I've noticed, except for Lord Marcus."

Elisabeth twitched at the name.

"Sorry."

Lord Marcus had been part of the committee that signed the Death Order, or as they called it: "a Purge to cleanse the Savage Branch".

"It's fine. Now off you go, it's time you became a grandmother."

"What about Antoine?"

"I'll wait for him here, and we will then go and secure the Nightingale."

"Did you ask them why Rayneheart was at the hospital?"

"Oh yes. I didn't have your magic serum though, so I had to use the good old fashioned methods."

Victoria shivered at the thought, glad Elisabeth was on her side.

"And?"

"He was there because the Black Rose's radars went off around the hospital. "Unusual Physical Activity" mixed in with strange climate changes and magical appearances."

"The child?"

"Yes. But we're the only ones who know about him so don't worry."

"Wow. How many broken bones did it take to get that information?"

"None. I lied. I got it by reading his diary. He and his three Sniffer friends were sent to investigate. It's all there in black and white. The broken bones were just for fun."

Victoria tried to smile but was still worried.

"Oh Beth, if three Sniffers go missing from the Black Rose, we're going to have to move Marie. More will come, and we're outnumbered."

"Yes, and I have to deal with the Nightingale. Look, go and get the girl, break protocol and bring her back to the safe house while I'm at the concert. She can give birth with us, at least she'll be safe that way. I came back with Jonas' car, take it, and get out of here. I'll meet you back there, okay?'

"Yes."

Victoria kissed her deeply, ignoring the fact it was highly unprofessional. She'd thought she'd lost her, and without Elisabeth, there would have been no point in fighting anymore. Once she'd been amply reassured, she took the car and left for the hospital.

"I'm sorry to bother you doctor, I'm looking for Marie. We came in earlier, and she was in room 108. Do you have any idea where she is?"

Victoria was standing in front of the hospital desk. It was deserted except for the on-guard doctor who seemed just as tired as he was bored.

"Yes, she's in her room. Why?"

She clenched her teeth, choosing not to smack the idiot.

"Well, she's not there anymore, and her clothes are missing."

The doctor paled and darted off towards Marie's room.

"Really?" Victoria scowled, "I've just told him she's gone and he runs off to check? Bloody French and their drama!"

She waited patiently, clicking her tongue until the doctor returned out of breath.

He grabbed for the phone, but Victoria was faster and twisted his wrist back so she could look him in the eyes.

"Just what do you think you're doing?" she asked him sternly.

"We need to phone the police! Get off; you're hurting me!"

"I don't think she'll harm herself again."

"That's not the problem! She went into labour hours ago, the baby will be here soon, and it's too dangerous for her to be without medical assistance!"

"Why was nobody with her? Were you not monitoring the child?"

"We couldn't get the machines working, there was some strange interference, and we are greatly understaffed today!"

Victoria raised her eyebrows and sighed.

"Well, it's not like women haven't been giving birth without doctors since the dawn of time."

The doctor's face darkened.

"She might hurt the baby."

Victoria let go of the doctor and looked around. The maternity ward was empty at this time, and the safe house near the lake was remotely controlling the cameras of the hospital. Good. She was going to need their help. Before the doctor could dial the emergency number, she punched him so hard in the head he swivelled on himself before crumpling to the floor, out cold. She hauled him into an empty room and onto a bed, covering him up like a patient.

This should give her enough time to find the girl. She grabbed the desk phone herself and called the safe house.

"Ma belle, are you alright?" came the voice of one of the men who had welcomed her there the night before.

"Yes Louis, I'm fine. But I had to knock out the doctor, and I don't want his patients to be left unattended. Can you cover for me until this one wakes up? And drug him with a memory pill while you're at it, please."

"Bien sur, ma belle. I saw the doc fall on the camera. You pack quite a punch for a Mortal. I'll send one of our regular doctors down there as soon as possible. Don't want to expose a Physical what with Sniffers around. I'll go with him, I've got to erase some files from their system anyway."

"Can you also take care of the cameras?"

"Yes. Camera. It's a tiny hospital; there's only the one."

"Did you see where the girl went?"

"No, I'm afraid not, and the town has hardly any CCTV coverage. This is like the worst possible place for a technician like me. I couldn't even follow her with the bank cameras. It's the backdrop of France, ma belle: the town is twenty years backwards. In everything."

"It's okay. I think I know where she's going."

The roads were busy, and Victoria knew she was driving recklessly, but time was not on her side, and she was worried sick. What if Marie gave birth and died alone? Maybe if she got to her in time, she would be able to save her. She kept checking the side of the road, in case she spotted her along the way, but she was nowhere to be seen. Had she hitched a ride?

No. Mary wouldn't want to risk being taken back to the hospital. She must be going there on foot and keeping to the shadows, but if that were the case - where the hell was she?

Victoria made her way to the quieter part of Carcassonne, far from the centre. On the outskirts of town, not too far from the lake, there was a giant greenhouse. Antoine had told them she went there every day, and she knew Marie would want to be with her luscious green friends when it ended.

As she arrived at her destination fifteen minutes later, she turned off the headlights and got out of the car, leaving the door open. Her heart dropped in dismay as the first thing she saw under the single street lamp was a trail of bright red blood drops leading through the main entrance. This didn't make any sense. How could she have managed to get there so fast, nine months pregnant and in labour, to boot?

During their exchange at the hospital, Marie had finally seemed at peace with the fact that she was about to give birth. She had told her she wished for her boy to be loved. That's all she had wanted. For him to be healthy and loved. She had had this eerie way of speaking, as if she knew she wouldn't survive the birth and Victoria had found her very beautiful, even in her thin and weakened state. She begged God to prove Elisabeth wrong and followed the drops that lead her through the entrance. She switched on the torch she carried in her bag and went through a pair of glass doors that had been smashed.

The trail of blood thickened and she realised she wasn't going to have time to bring the young woman back with her to the safe house.

There had been no time to check the area, and none of the Delacourt agents knew where she was heading. She could easily be killed and who knows what the Black Rose would do to the baby if they got their hands on him.

Victoria felt sick as she remembered what they had done to the baby Ursidaes born in Russia after the death order.

Suddenly, the tortured cries she could hear in her mind became unexpectedly real and she bolted towards the centre of the greenhouse, throwing caution to the wind, desperately following the signposts to the inner sanctum.

The door had been smashed open, just like the others, and as she entered, she stopped abruptly, the powerful sight before her stealing her breath.

A giant oak tree in the centre of the room grew straight through the glass roof as if the greenhouse had been built around it, and lying underneath it was the figure of a woman, softly glowing under the light of a thousand glow worms levitating above her.

There was blood everywhere. It was too late.

Marie was pale and lifeless, her eyes closed. Before dying, she had managed to wrap the baby in a bloody cloth and had held him to her chest. Somehow this made Victoria feel better.

Was this something specific to Physical Immortals? Being drawn to trees? She frowned. Marie wasn't a Physical of course - Physicals can't have children - but still. The flowers in the greenhouse had turned towards her; and... had the roots of the tree actually lifted and broken through the tiles to cradle her like a child? The scene reminded her of Michelangelo's Pietà.

Maybe it wasn't so surprising then, that she had fled to seek refuge here.

The baby stopped crying, and moved his head weakly, his tiny lips desperate for something warm and milky, but his mother was dead - nothing more than an empty shell.

Victoria grabbed her pocket knife and approached the body with as much care as she could muster. Pools of blood soaked her sandals, seeping in and flooding her feet.

What an idiot. She had nothing to clamp the cord.

Oh well. They could always clamp it back at the hospital.

She put away her knife and picked up the child - and placenta - carefully.

As she did, a deafening sound soared up from beneath her feet and she stepped back hurriedly, watching in horror as the roots under the mother's body grew further, engulfing her, pulling her inside the earth as if she were nothing more than a blanket. The sound of bones being crushed was drowned out by the creaking bark, and when it ceased, the flowers in the greenhouse all turned to face the baby.

"Oh. Now that's something you don't see every day. I thought they had turned to your mother, but it looks like they were turning to you," Victoria said to him quietly.

The baby started crying again, probably out of hunger, and Victoria sat down on the blood-splattered tiles to cover him with her jersey, using the cloth he had been wrapped in to envelop the placenta.

Her shoes had become too slippery to walk in, so she removed them and left them by the tree.

She smiled down at the small bundle in her arms.

"Hello Hon. My name is Victoria, and from now on, I'll be your Gran."

She kissed his tiny forehead and gave him a finger to suckle on.

As she walked back to the car, every flower along the way, even those that were closed for the night, opened and turned towards them.

She looked down at him in wonder.

How could a being this small hold such power over nature?

"Adrian. Your name is Adrian."

Elisabeth was waiting for them in the car park, leaning against Jonas's car. She checked her watch and smiled.

"Eighteenth of August, eleven forty-eight. What a day to remember."

"Hi to you too!" Victoria said, relieved to see that her friend was safe.

With a quick peck on the cheek, she held out the baby.

The Headmistress shook her head.

"No thank you. I'm terrible with children, and I'm also covered in blood."

"So are we," said Victoria, looking down at her stained clothes.

"I suppose I need to send my team down here for the body..."

"That won't be necessary. It's been taken care of. But send someone to clean the blood anyway."

Elisabeth seemed surprised but didn't question her words. Victoria sighed wearily. She was desperate for a cup of tea.

"Is it done? Is the Nightingale safe?"

"Yes. She's in the car. We came as soon as we could. Antoine dropped us off "

"What about Charles and Marianne?"

"They will be waiting for us in a little village an hours drive from here called Tourne. It isn't safe here anymore, not for any of us. We have to leave."

"Jonas is going to kill us both for the car," she mused trying to lighten up the mood.

"It's alright; I'll give him compensation."

It was dark save for the street lamp, and the cool wind came as a blissful reminder that Summer was soon over.

"Are you sure you don't want to hold him? You should, he's a lovely boy. You can see in the dark, can't you? Look over there."

Elisabeth turned to look at the field of sunflowers next to them that she was pointing to.

They were the only flowers in the world that would wake at dawn and follow the sun with their bright yellow heads. Those who were part of the Fold knew them to be a symbol of hope, meaning "rebirth", "new beginning" and for those who were old enough, like Elisabeth: "birth of a better world".

"Interesting. They seem to be turned towards us."

"No, not towards us. Towards him," Victoria told her quietly, looking down at the child in her arms.

Her friend didn't answer and opened the boot of the car.

"I have everything you need: baby seat, bottle, milk... Nappies and wipes, too. You can clean him up in the boot if you like and clamp the cord."

Victoria got to work, and as she finished putting on his nappy, a thought suddenly occurred to her.

"Beth, does he smell special to you?"

Her friend instinctively sniffed the air.

"My god... It's slightly minty, just like his," she whispered.

"Like whose? Beth... Are you ok?"

The Headmistress was leaning against the car for support and Victoria couldn't help but feel concerned.

"I'm fine. He does indeed smell special to me," she replied weakly, forcing a smile and getting into the car.

Her friend shrugged and turned back to her work, feeling satisfied. She hadn't managed to wipe the blood off completely, but it was start.

"Okay! Ready to go: nappy on, and baby can feed in the car."

She strapped the child into the baby seat that had been set up at the back and got in next to him, his tiny hand holding onto her thumb.

"Good evening."

The woman next to Elisabeth greeted them softly without looking around, and Victoria checked the rear-view mirror, to see if she could get a glimpse of the Nightingale's face. She couldn't.

"Good evening," she replied, feeling slightly let down.

Her voice was pleasant, but nothing like how her friend had described it.

"Okay. Off we go then!" the Headmistress said, starting the engine.

After a couple of minutes, Adrian started to cry, and before Victoria could figure out how to make him stop, the most beautiful sound she had ever heard filled the car.

The Nightingale was humming.

Elisabeth was right. It was impossible to describe with words, nor even with the feeling it conveyed. It could only be described... as a thought. In an instant, Victoria remembered every sound that had ever made her happy. A choir boy singing. Her lover moaning her name. The wind in the trees... The ping of a kettle and the laughter of a friend : all these sounds and many more wrapped up in a single tune.

Victoria saw Elisabeth relax in the driver's seat, letting out a deep purr that sent shivers down her spine. The courtesy lights lit up, and the blood she hadn't managed to wash off from Adrian's body lifted from his skin, disintegrating, as his crying stopped and he fell asleep.

She continued to hum until they reached the motorway.

"What's your name?" Victoria asked her, as she came out of her stupor.

"Beatrice. I know I was a fool to come into the open, and at a concert nonetheless, but I couldn't help it." She turned towards the baby. "Now I know why."

"Yeah. He's incredible... Beatrice. Beatrice... I like that name," Victoria said, more to herself than to the two woman in the front.

"Are you thinking of changing yours?" asked the Nightingale.

"Maybe."

The Headmistress had shaken off the effect of the humming and joined in the conversation.

"You'll still be beautiful when you're old you know, and it's only until he turns into an adult. Then you can turn back into this," Elisabeth said, drawing Victoria's hourglass figure in the air with one hand as she drove.

"I know, I know; but will you still love me, when I'm all wrinkly and white-haired?" her friend laughed, as quietly as possible. She didn't want to wake Adrian now that he was so peaceful. Beatrice nestled back into her seat politely.

"You shouldn't be, it's in twenty years, you'll only look about what, sixty? Sixty is young isn't it?"

"Oh, you Immortals are all the same! You can't tell our age and don't understand what it's like to grow old."

"I guess not, but what you find terrible, I find fascinating, it being something I can never have. To age, to grow old... The changes in your body... Fascinating."

"Well, the second I stop using the Immortality Tear, I'll start ageing, and fast. I should be around a hundred by now, and this figure right here is of a twenty-three year old, thank you very much."

She pretended to be angry and glared at the rear-view mirror.

"A little girl then, by my book," the Headmistress chuckled.

"It's true, I've never asked how old you were. I know it's something we don't ask in the Fold, but you always seem to know everything. As if you had some inside knowledge on the world nobody else has. Has it got to do with your age?"

"No. And I was born so long ago; I couldn't tell you how old I am exactly anyway. It was before the Dark Ages, before the Dark Reign. I do have a specific insight, but it has nothing to do with it."

Victoria knew she wouldn't get more out of her friend and changed the subject.

"So tell me, Beatrice? Now what?"

Beatrice didn't answer, and Elisabeth chuckled.

"She's asleep. Poor woman got quite a scare when she saw us charging towards her. Especially me, with my blood-stained suit. Don't worry, she's safe now, and once I drop you off and fly back to London, she will be placed somewhere else with a new identity - you know how it goes. Unless she wants to help with the cause, that is, which would be a big win for us."

"What about the three Sniffers?"

"Funny story that. See, when I called Antoine, he came with a couple of friends. Turns out, the two accompanying Rayneheart were all part of the same group of Scorchers. They were in charge of the Polar massacre, and it just so happens that Antoine's friends also lost a couple of people that day."

"I don't suppose they will face judgement," Victoria mused, sighing. She had been hoping the entire process would be drawn out. The more painful, the better.

Her friend stopped smiling and sighed with her.

"Eons ago, no matter how badly hurt the Physicals would be, they would always give a fair trial. But that was before the Purge, Vic. I'm sorry. Their deaths will be swift if you are worried about our methods."

Victoria shook her head vigorously.

"Oh no Beth, no. Goodness no. I was hoping Antoine had left me Rayneheart as a gift or at least would let me witness their execution. They were monsters, and monsters should be put down. The Purge turned your people more into animals, but deep down you still yearn for justice. I, on the other hand, am human, and all I want to do is make them suffer."

Elisabeth didn't answer. Soon after, Victoria spotted some road signs.

"Oh look, there is the sign for Tourne! We must be close. We need to take Adrian to the hospital."

Elisabeth made the turn and slowed down.

"Yes. The paperwork has been transferred and Antoine will stay in the vicinity, just in case the Black Rose comes sniffing around. The hospital staff has been paid off and mesmerised, so they won't ask too many questions."

"Alright then, where to?"

"St Roch's maternity, it's another thirty minute drive from here. I will leave you the car with the baby seat at the back, and all the essentials, nappies, bottles... Your house has been set up already. You'll have to put up with Marianne and Charles for a couple of days, until you find a place you like. Just give me a ring and I'll make it happen. I'll be leaving as soon as possible - the fewer Physicals there are in one place, the better. In fact, I'll be sending your daughter and son in law on missions around the world as soon as possible."

Victoria nodded and looked at the sleeping child a little sadly. It wouldn't be easy getting old, it would be painful and she knew she was going to hate it. It would also be tough being outside the Fold for two decades, being poor, and not being able to see Lord Daemon. But when she looked at him in the car seat, with his big round cheeks and soft, tiny hands...

"Why Adrian?" Elisabeth asked her suddenly, sounding puzzled.

"Beg your pardon?"

"I heard you call him Adrian while you were holding him. Why did you choose that name?"

"Oh. Because of the man who recruited me for the Black Rose. I guess I gave him the name of the love of my life."

There was a short silence.

"Do I know this man?"

"Yes."

Elisabeth was polite enough not to push the issue, and Victoria felt grateful she wouldn't have to speak of him further. It was painful enough as it was. She looked down at the baby, thinking of the flowers that had opened and turned to face him.

"Beth?"

"Hmm?"

"How important is he?"

"Who?"

"On a scale from one to ten, how important is this child?"

"If there are none of us left but him, it will be enough."

"What the hell have you gotten me into?"

"You'll see."

"Oh come on, you've got to give me more."

Elisabeth sighed.

"It's difficult to quantify. But if all Physicals were captured and killed, all to the last one, including me, well, it wouldn't matter as long as he survived."

"But what is his role? What is he supposed to do?"

"It's complicated... don't think I don't trust you Victoria, it's just really hard to explain. All you need to know is that as long as he lives, as long as he fulfils his purpose, you will one day taste the world as it was meant to be."

"What on earth does that mean?"

"It means Adrian will save us all... He is the Dreamwalker."

They sat in silence as they drove along the roads of Tourne to the hospital. It had started to rain, a light summer shower, nothing Victoria couldn't handle. If the rain hadn't stopped by the time they got there, she'd use one of the little covers at the back of the car to protect him. What she hadn't been expecting though, was the exceptional view: she wasn't sure if it was specific to the French skies as she'd never seen such beautiful colours before, but in the distance, a storm had started to rumble, turning the dark sky into a red stained amethyst.

Find out what happens Next : www.satedman.com

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The Boy who Forgot: A Delacourt Short Story

Hello, and Welcome to the Fold.

Stephanie Althea Tedman, writing under the pen name S.A. Tedman is a half-British, half-Maltese novelist, translator, and English teacher.

Born in Pembury, Kent, she moved to France at an early age and discovered in her teens the exciting world of role-playing games, needing only paper, dice and an huge amount of imagination.

At sixteen she was given the coveted role of Game mistress, and created The Fold, an incredible world of magic and immortality that she continued to develop over a decade.

After completing a BA in English literature and an MA in Creative writing, she started writing The Delacourt Chronicles, including two short stories The Voice of the Voiceless and The Boy who Forgot.

Other series in the Fold will include The Academy, The Black Rose and The Moira Chronicles.

S. A. Tedman is currently living in Montpellier, in the South of France, with her husband and beautiful baby boy.

Author Page : www.satedman.com

