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#16
SEP 09 |
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“Tales of the Guild, 1871: Engulfed in Inferno”
A soft tap came from the door. When there was no response, the door was eased open and Jacques LeBeau stepped into the darkened bedroom. He waited a moment for his eyes to adjust and saw the figure lying on the bed facing away from the door.
“Go away,” a weak voice said.
Ignoring the protest, Jacques walked to the bed and sat down. He took a long moment to think about what he wanted to say. Finally he decided to just do what he had been asked to. “Pere asked me to give you this,” he said as he laid a book on the bed. “He marked something he thought you may like to read.” He thought a moment. “Can I get you something to eat, or-”
“Go away,” Remy LeBeau repeated without moving. Jacques stood, squeezed his brother's shoulder, and walked out.
After the door had closed, Remy LeBeau, still wearing the clothes he had worn in the infirmary when Bella Donna had attacked him, sat up. He took the book and moved to a desk. He turned on a small light and began to read. There was a note in the book being used as a bookmark.
“Remy,” it read, “I know that nothing can make you feel better right now. I only hope that this may help you to realize you aren't alone. You still have your family. Please don't make the same mistake. Je t'aime, Pere.”
Remy reread the note and finally placed it aside. He turned his attention to the book (now recognized as Fleur's journal) and began reading:
Chicago
October 8, 1871
Fleur carefully tucked a red carnation into his buttonhole and looked at himself in the mirror. He smiled. The Elixir of Life was a wonderful thing. Despite the fact that almost forty years had passed since the incident in New Orleans, he looked as if he had only aged 2 or 3.
The one thing that had not faded was his desire to find the mysterious man mentioned in the madwoman's papers. He still wanted very much to locate this Nathaniel Essex and get some answers.
His eyes closed again and he saw his friend Robert. Robert, who had gone undercover to help scout Mme. LeSalle's house and been turned into a grotesque medical experiment. Fleur once again wordlessly repeated his vow of revenge and opened his eyes. He smiled his million-dollar smile, forcing his anger to the back of his mind. After all, Chicago was a rich city and there was work to do.
He left his room and walked down the street. The wind lightly tossed his hair as he continued walking. The sounds of hammers and saws filled the air as new buildings were constructed and the scent of sawdust filled the air. He smiled as he approached his destination - a small house on the north side of town. He stepped onto the porch and gently rapped on the door. It swung open, revealing a beautiful young woman - Jeanne, Fleur's fiancée.
“Good morning, my dear,” Fleur said with a courtly bow (which drew a giggle from Jeanne). “Would you like to join me for some brunch?”
“I would be delighted,” she said as she stepped outside and accepted his arm. Together, they started down the street to a small café.
“It is such a beautiful day,” Jeanne remarked.
“A bit windy, however,” Fleur said.
“A bit, but I find it refreshing,” Jeanne said as she let the wind caress her face. “It has been so dry lately.”
“It's a change for me,” Fleur said. “I can handle de heat, but I'm used to humidity.”
Jeanne smiled. “Ah, yes. My handsome `Cajun.'“ She carefully pronounced the unfamiliar word. “When will you take me to New Orleans so I can see your home?”
“Soon,” Fleur said. Of course, he couldn't tell her his real plans. “Just as soon as my business here is finished. It shouldn't even be a week.”
“Good,” Jeanne said. “I look forward to seeing those bayous you have spoken of so eloquently.”
Fleur smiled back at her as they entered the café.
Back at Jeanne's house, a knock was heard on the door. Her mother stood from where she had knelt, scrubbing the bare wood floors, and walked to the door. On the other side stood a man, an albino perhaps, in expensive clothes. “Good day, madame,” he said.
“We aren't interested in whatever you're selling,” Jeanne's mother warned.
The man laughed. “I am no salesman,” he said. “My name is Dr. Nathan Milbury - a humble man of science. In pursuing one of my topics of research, I discovered some questions I should like to ask your daughter.”
“She's not here.” The mother ended the conversation by firmly closing the door in Milbury's face.
The man who would one day be known as Mr. Sinister scowled and returned to his carriage.
“Thank you for the lovely dinner,” Jeanne said.
“It was my pleasure to share it with the most beautiful woman in this city,” Fleur said as he gallantly bowed and kissed her hand.
Jeanne laughed as she took his arm and they walked back toward her house. As they approached, Fleur said the words she'd been longing to hear. “How would you like to leave with me tomorrow? My business should be finished this evening, and I don't like to stay in one place too long.”
Jeanne grabbed him and kissed him, eloquently answering his question.
Later that night, Fleur crouched in the grand hallway of the new Opera House. A small candle flickered beside him, providing a dim half-light. Fleur smiled as he lifted another painting from the wall and began freeing it from its frame. It was quick work, and soon it lay beside some of its companions - rolled up and piled on the floor, ready to be shoved into a knapsack. Fleur was reaching for the next when he realized that the room had brightened. He quickly extinguished his candle, but the light did not go out. He tensed, ready to battle a guard, when he realized that the light was coming from outside. He crept to a window and looked out.
He gazed upon a scene straight from hell itself. Flames were everywhere - buildings across the street were burning, and even the wooden street itself! A mob was trying frantically to get away. Fleur paled. He'd been so distracted by the paintings, he'd ignored the screams and smell of smoke. Ignoring the precious artworks, he ran and threw open a bathroom door. He dunked his handkerchief in the toilet tank and pressed the sopping cloth against his nose and mouth to filter the smoke. As he ran toward the exit stairs, he didn't see the sparks slowly blowing in from the other direction. Some of them landed on the paintings and began to burn.
Outside was worse. He found himself immediately swept up in a mob that cared only about escaping the flames, never minding what (or who) was trampled underfoot. Fleur looked to his left and saw a young woman running with him. Jeanne! he thought. Where is she?
Jeanne ran down a street with her mother beside her. Behind them, their home was ablaze. “Keep running!” Jeanne urged. “We can't stop!”
Her mother, breathing hard, only nodded. She couldn't even speak. Jeanne looked away for a moment and turned back. Her mother had stumbled and was buried under a mass of fleeing humanity. Screaming against the injustice of it all, Jeanne forced herself to continue forward, ignoring the tears streaming down her cheeks.
Fleur tried to fight his way through the crowd, but realized it was useless. From his vantage point, he could see that Jeanne's entire neighborhood was aflame. He let himself be swept along with the flood as his mind raced, trying to think of where Jeanne might be. His eyes went wide as he realized the answer and he ducked down an alley.
Jeanne collapsed in the deserted street. She had made it to Fleur's hotel, but was unable to go any farther. She lay in front of the door and cried.
“Well, now,” a man said from behind her. She looked up to see him. “What have we here?” Nathan Milbury asked.
Fleur fought his way through the crowd. The hotel! That was exactly where she thought he would be! He indiscriminately punched, kicked, and jumped - intent only on reaching his goal.
Milbury gently turned Jeanne over. “So it is you,” he said. “Let's see what we can do to fix you up.” He smiled a reassuring smile and reached for his black bag.
Fleur finally rounded a corner and saw Jeanne lying in front of his hotel, which was beginning to smolder. A man in a long dark coat was kneeling beside her. As Fleur ran toward them, the man stood, gave Jeanne a sad look and began walking away. Fleur reached her and knelt down. His suspicions were correct. Jeanne was dead. As he cradled his beloved's head in his arms, he turned to look at the man walking away and everything fell into place.
“ESSEX!” Fleur screamed. Milbury turned, shocked that anyone there would know the name. He quickly climbed aboard his carriage and was gone.
“ESSEX!” Fleur screamed again. “You did this!” He buried his face in Jeanne's hair one final time. Even as the hotel began to burn, he pulled off his jacket. The red carnation fell into the grime of the street. He gently laid the jacket over Jeanne's body and took her into his arms. “We're getting out of here together,” Fleur whispered as tears cut through the soot on his cheeks. “Just like I promised.” Carrying Jeanne, Fleur continued to make his way out of the doomed city.
Fleur looked across the field he had chosen. It was far enough away from Chicago that the inferno would not reach this far. He again looked down at the mound of earth that he had dug as soon as he had arrived here. He kissed the tips of his fingers and pressed them into the earth above Jeanne's head. “I will find him,” he swore. “For you, I will find him and at last I will know why.”
Fleur picked up his jacket and slowly put it back on. As he began walking out of the field, he paused by a hardy group of wildflowers. He picked one and inserted it into his buttonhole, where it clashed with his soot-covered, disheveled appearance. Slowly Fleur made his way out of the field, continuing toward his future.
Remy turned the page, only to discover that was the end of the entry. He paused a moment, thinking about the long-ago thief.
Jean-Luc LeBeau looked up as he heard a knock at his door. “Come in,” he called. Remy slowly walked in and closed the door.
“Why did you send me dat?” Remy asked.
“Because I know you idolize Fleur,” Jean-Luc replied. “You always did, even when you were a little boy.” Jean-Luc motioned for Remy to sit. When he had, Jean-Luc sat down on a chair facing him. “I was actually hopin' you'd come here so I could tell you de rest of de story.”
“What do you mean?” Remy asked.
“Dat fire - after dat, Fleur walked away from the Guild,” Jean-Luc said. “He left his Guild, his friends, and his family. He left everyt'ing behind so he could chase after dat Essex.” Jean-Luc leaned forward and put his hands on his son's shoulders. “I don't want you to make de same mistake. You've been a loner all yo' life, and I know dat I've done my share to encourage dat. But you've got de Guild and a family here. Don't t'row dat away.”
Remy reached forward and grabbed his father. As he tried to comfort his sobbing son, Jean-Luc found his thoughts turning toward the pages he had personally hidden. He knew that somebody he would have to show them to Remy - but for now, Fleur's final diary entry would remain hidden.
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To Be Continued...
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