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Chapter 13:
In Which Lucien Is Terribly Sorry

 

It was not easy to hail a cab at two o’clock in the morning—which it was, as the nearby church tower informed me with a pair of eerie clangs. Helene, Tom, and I walked some blocks from my tenement to make sure we were nowhere in the same area when the Duchess returned. She would return; there was no doubt about that in any of our minds. And it was safe to assume that she’d be bringing friends.

“Finally—there’s one.” Tom dashed out into the street, his violin case bouncing on his back, one arm stretched out over his head. I almost yelled for him not to bother, considering he was so short that chances were the cab driver wouldn’t even see him—but by some miracle the carriage slowed to a stop. I saw Tom give a quick look at the driver, before beckoning for us to join him. I grabbed Helene’s hand and ran across the street.

“Where ought we to go?” I whispered to Helene as I helped her into the carriage.

“I do not know,” she replied, blinking. “We have some money, but not very much. Wherever you know of that you think is best, we will go.”

I nodded. “Very well. Um....” I turned to the driver. “The Astbury Hotel, please.”

Tom and I climbed into the carriage and shut the door, leaving the three of us in darkness. I couldn’t see either of my coven members’ faces, but I could feel Tom looking at me every once and again, no doubt still peeved at my horrible mistake. I had the distinct feeling that he could see me much better than I could see him, and the thought didn’t make me feel any better. The cab started off into the city.

“Lucien,” Helene whispered suddenly, breaking the silence, “what if the Duchess’ coven tries to look for us? Won’t they think to look in a hotel?”

“I...can’t say,” I replied. “I have no idea how much they know, or what they are capable of. I know even less than you do.”

“Well, what about the ones that do the dirty work for them—those Fairfax blokes?” Tom cut in. “How much did they manage to force out of you?”

“Nothing,” I said swiftly. “I never told a soul either of you were living in my flat. Not the Morgans, not anybody.”

“They know now,” Helene said, trying to stave off another argument. “It seems that they will do anything to find us.”

“I don’t know about the two of you,” said Tom, “but I’m used to havin’ to bloody disappear, and I know a good deal on how to keep a low profile. I know some blokes are looking for trouble with me, I call meself a different name for a while.”

“Different names aren’t going to help us, Tom. Look at us! We don’t exactly blend in. How often do two grown men travel and stay at hotels with a little girl?”

Tom rolled his eyes; I could see that much from the streetlights we passed. “Y’know, for a poet, Luce, you’re not very creative. We’ll say Helene’s your niece, you ken? You’re both French, you could pull it off.”

“And Tom could be your friend who is traveling with us!” Helene declared. “Tom, what will be your new name?” She seemed excited, as though this were somehow fun. She liked adventure, that was for sure, and going about London incognito must have sounded thrilling.

“Doesn’t matter at this point, love, but often I’ve used me mam’s maiden name, Ryan. Luce here’s the one booking the hotel in his name.” Tom leveled his gaze on me. “Except you’re already using your mother’s name, aren’t you?”

Helene chimed in again, “Maman’s maiden name is LeBlanc. Lucien and I could use that.” She frowned. “But since the whole council knows me by my full name, I had better call myself by my middle name, Claire. So Lucien and I shall be Lucien and Claire LeBlanc, uncle and niece—and you will be Thomas Ryan!”

“Sounds like a plan,” Tom said, smiling at her.

“And we will say we are on holiday, and soon plan on traveling to America to see the cowboys! Next we will go to see lions in Africa, then on to India and China and—”

“Now let’s not get carried away,” I interrupted nervously. “No matter where we go, we must be on our guard and say as little about ourselves as possible. We must be very careful now.”

“Aye, from now on we’ll have to ask if people are on the Council before we invite them into our beds.”

“Tom,” Helene scolded, glancing at me, but I didn’t say anything. There was nothing to say. Tom was absolutely right to be cross with me, even if I hadn’t allowed him to shove me. And Helene—well, I was surprised she was even speaking to me. I could hardly let myself think about what could have happened up in the flat; Tom and I were Helene’s only protectors in the world, and I’d failed her completely. I would do far better now that I’d learned my lesson, but it didn’t seem anything could ever make up for my foolishness. Misère chided me gently, telling me not to be too hard on myself, but I shook my head. It wasn’t possible to be too hard on myself.

We reached the hotel after a long while; I’d chosen a location I knew to be quite far from anyplace frequented by the likes of the Morgans. The Astbury was medium-sized and well-furnished. I knew it from a tryst or two in the past—though, at the moment, just the thought of bedding with a stranger was enough to make me sick. Tom helped Helene out of the cab whilst I paid the driver. Our money had kept up well; Helene was a good accountant. Our savings wouldn’t last us forever, but it was enough for the time being. I would worry about the money once I was sure we were safe.

As per Helene’s suggestion, I booked us a suite under the name Lucien LeBlanc, too upset over everything to even care about the unfortunate alliteration. We went up to the fifth floor quickly, though by the third flight of stairs Helene was tiring and I had to carry her the rest of the way.

Tom claimed the sitting room practically the moment we arrived at the suite, declaring he would rather sleep alone than share either of the two bedrooms. With a nod I went into mine and paced about miserably until I couldn’t stand it anymore, and crossed the sitting room to knock on Helene’s bedroom door.

“It’s Lucien...may I come in?”

“Oui, I am not asleep yet.”

I pushed the door open tentatively, peeking inside to see Helene looking lost in the full-size bed, pillows propped all around her like a fortress. In the space of fifteen minutes she had managed to transform the drab hotel room, and it looked about as frilly and flowery as her attic space had been. Grimoire was tucked in beside her, wearing a pink stocking cap and scowling at me. His cheeks were still slightly stained with Devona’s blood.

I smiled slightly at him. “I don’t believe Grimoire finds me very welcome here.”

“Do not mind that. Of course Grimoire is very protective of me...besides, he taught that Duchess a lesson.” Helene patted the bed for me to sit down. “What is it, Lucien? Can you not sleep?”

“No, but that isn’t the problem.” I sank down on the edge of the bed, fiddling with my pocketwatch. Misère fluttered onto the vanity and began preening himself. “The truth is, I’m...well, I just feel the greatest imbecile for what I did tonight, and I wish to know how I could ever make it up to you.” I said it very quickly, burning with embarrassment and staring down at the ugly Oriental carpet. “I am deeply sorry, Helene.”

“Oh. Lucien. Do not feel bad,” Helene said, touching my arm.

“Won’t you forgive me?”

“Oui, of course I forgive you!” She jumped up and hugged me tightly, her green eyes wide, and giggled when she saw my face. “Look how you blush! Do not be embarrassed!”

“How can I not be?” I asked, finally looking at her. “You were not at that party, you didn’t see how I...how I acted. I treated Anabelle despicably, I chastised Misère, I forgot all about you and Tom....”

“But that is not like you at all,” Helene said, frowning. “Tell me exactly what happened.”

I related, in as little shameful detail as possible, all that I could remember about that evening. “Then she made me drink something out of a ring she wore, something that put me to sleep as surely as if I’d been placed under ether. I think that was her plan all along, so she’d be free to explore the flat, but I can’t for the life of me understand what made me bring her there in the first place!”

“Do you know about potions?” Helene asked.

I shook my head. “Nothing. But the Fairfaxes mentioned it, once.”

“It must have been a sleeping potion she had in her ring. But there are other potions, too, that do all kinds of things.” Helene clambered out of bed and picked up her valise, reaching inside until she found a thick book bound in purple leather. “This book is filled with recipes for different potions. I have not read them all yet, but my papa and maman have taught me some.”

I took the book from her hands and flipped through the pages. “So only witches can create these potions?”

“Anyone can, but they will only work if they are prepared by a witch. Some are helpful potions, but some are harmful. I think the Duchess might have used a very tricky one on you to make you do what she wanted,” Helene explained, her eyes sparkling. “You should not feel bad. I think at the party her sisters made you swallow a potion that would make you like the Duchess very much, so much that you could not think about anything else.”

“But I could have fought it.”

“Oui, and you could have fought the sleeping potion too. But it is very hard, especially when you do not have a lot of practice in magic.”

I handed the book back to her, lowering my gaze to the floor. “I wish I had as much magical training as most warlocks, and Tom too. That way we could better protect you.”

“You will learn in time. It is not your fault you could not stand against the Duchess—she is a very powerful witch. All the witches on the Council are very strong in magic.”

“Yes, but you are forgetting one thing, Helene—I happen to have diligently trained myself for many years not to stand against any woman who shows interest in me. If I were more discriminating....” I shook my head, and stood up. “I shall never lavish favors on a strange woman again. The very idea makes me sick.”

“What about Anabelle?” Helene asked, climbing back under her blankets.

“Poor Anabelle. Not only did I spurn her for another woman, but I’m pretty sure I insulted her to her face. She thought I was drunk. Oh, I want to die of shame.”

“Send her a telegram to say you are sorry.”

“I shall do that tomorrow directly. Thank you for being so kind, Helene.” I leaned over and tucked her in. “Bonne nuit, cheríe. Ayez les rêves doux.”

“Oui! Soyez heureux et ayez un bon sommeil—bonne nuit, Lucien!”

I smiled and blew her a kiss as I backed out the door. Helene was such a darling, that instead of feeling better I actually felt guiltier than ever. Misère followed me out and we crept as quietly as possible across the sitting room, though Tom’s snores were so loud I doubted we’d wake him. Again it struck me how incredibly lucky we all were to have escaped with our lives that night. The Duchess could have emptied poison into my mouth just as easily as she had the sleeping potion, and it might have been quick work for her to dispatch all three of us in the space of ten minutes.

We were up against witches so powerful that it chilled me. I had the distinct feeling that we had not seen a fraction of what the Council was capable of...plus there was the danger of the Council’s friends and allies, not to mention Tom’s conflict with the German, and far worse, evil things like Malphas, beyond what any of us could understand...As soon as morning came I meant to be up and about immediately, relaying an apology to Anabelle and setting everything in order again. We were in a difficult position at the moment, holed up in a hotel and fearing for our lives, but there had to be some way to keep ourselves safe.

And once we found it, the whole dangerous world would be right as rain once again. Or, at least, as much as we could make it.

 

END OF VOLUME II: THE WHEEL OF FORTUNE

Glossary:
Bonne nuit, cheríe. Ayez les rêves doux - (French) Goodnight, sweetheart. Have sweet dreams
Oui - (French) Yes
Soyez heureux et ayez un bon sommeil—bonne nuit - (French) Be happy and have a good sleep—goodnight