Chapter Six
Paulette’s footsteps crunched away, and I found myself cloaked in evening noises—cicadas chirping, a car engine starting, and distant voices that traveled on the cool breeze whispering across my brow and toying with my hair.
The streetlights came on, their light washing over the hedge. On the neighboring terraces, glasses chinked and cutlery clattered. The residents had company and were eating and enjoying themselves.
I pushed my way through the garden gate, no longer creaking after I’d emptied half a can of oil on the hinges. The barbed wire I bought at the Bricolage was waiting next to the rose hedge, a job for tomorrow.
I was heading for the front door of my villa, the beam of my torch pointed at the uneven ground—typical of me to forget the light bulbs for the burnt-out lamp above the porch—when an exchange in rapid French registered. It originated on Yvon’s terrace. The racket wasn’t unusual since the man often cooked for his friends. This time, there were only two voices, both familiar.
Yvon and Raoul.
So much for being tired.
I should have done the proper thing and ignored them. However, like a cat, I’m born curious. I switched off my torch, turned on my heel, and headed for the wooden panel Yvon had used to stop the gap in the rose hedge. Its fragrant but prickly mass blocked most of the illumination thrown by the streetlights, allowing only a dim glow to filter through the tangle.
My eyes now accustomed to the dusk, I picked my way across the disaster area in the back garden. Once I reached the old panel now acting as Yvon’s makeshift barrier, I stopped and switched on my inner interpreter.
“I don’t like it,” he said. “By the way, who gave you the memory stick?”
“Oh, contacts are everything, forget it. About your other point, we’ve rehashed the topic often enough, my friend. She’s a journalist. A very good one, or so you claimed. I think she might well be, and we need someone with her skills.”
Raoul’s voice sounded odd. Not rising and falling exactly, but ebbing and flowing in volume as if the speaker drifted away and back again while talking. The panel blocked the other garden from view. All I could make out were shadows flickering among the pool lights. I swung around and tiptoed past the gate, hoping for a better view on its left side.
A small gap yawned between the panel and hedge. I peeked through the slit, and sure enough, there stood Yvon, a gorgeous statue illuminated by the bluish glow from his pool. Reflections of water rippled across his skin in an alien network of veins. No chef’s whites this time, only swimming trunks hugging a pair of tight buttocks under a tapering back.
Butterflies weren’t around so late in the day, but something for sure beat its wings in my throat. A moth would be more my style, anyway.
Raoul snickered. At least, I think that was what he did. “ Monseigneur , you look gorgeous, you know? I could eat you with a spoon.”
My stomach headed for the nearest vole hole. The two men were lovers. I should have known both blokes were simply too stunning to be straight.
Though I could have sworn... No, I must have misread Yvon’s words and actions.
Not your fault. Their auras are rubbish.
Perhaps wobbly auras were a side effect of being gay?
No way. Gerald’s tasted just fine.
“No chance of that happening I’m afraid,” Yvon said with a smile in his voice.
Oh? Revived, the moth beat its wings in foolish hope, but I called it to order. Why should I care? I wasn’t attracted to him, not in the slightest. All I wanted was—what?
Learn more about myself and find out whether my paranormal skills somehow clashed with his aura was the correct answer.
“Such a shame,” Raoul said, his voice a gentle hush on the wind.
“ Dame , everything is a struggle these days.”
“Was it ever easier?”
Yvon did the Gallic shrug, and the reflections on his back rippled and danced. “I guess not.”
I edged closer to the board, careful not to touch it. It would be a hoot and a half if I tipped it over. Unlikely the two men would appreciate my appearance on the scene of their cozy get-together.
Where the heck was Raoul? I couldn’t spot either him or his shadow.
“I saw Paulette this evening. She’s got a new metal detector,” he said, way too close for comfort.
My heart missed a beat and I jerked away from my peephole. Yikes, that had been close. The guy must be right on the other side of the hedge.
“She should have bought the company. Would be cheaper in the long run.”
Since I hadn’t been spotted, I dared to approach the gap in the hedge again.
Yvon now sat on the deck and splashed his feet in the water. “Is there any chance of her finding it?”
A soft snicker ricocheted off the far wall. “It’s not where she thinks it is. Should she ever get lucky, she’s in for a nasty surprise.”
His head snapped around. He faced a hedge shrouded in darkness. “You’ve rigged it? Tripwires or something?”
“My, aren’t you being rather violent?”
“You’re not?”
“Only when it’s necessary. Anyway, trust me she’s not going to make it. Not while I’m still drawing breath.” Raoul’s voice now sounded so faint I could hardly distinguish the words.
Why couldn’t the bloke stop fidgeting, for heaven’s sake?
“But you don’t. That’s your whole problem, isn’t it?”
A glacier calved, and ice surged through my bloodstream. Oh, crap, I’d been right. At least one of them wasn’t alive. Impossible, I must have misunderstood something. Raoul might not have an aura, but otherwise, he was a perfectly solid human being, hale and hearty. The same applied to Yvon. I had touched both men, being close to them.
“Not a problem, my friend. It’s a tad stressful to keep up appearances, but I manage. I’m very proud of my performance the last two evenings.”
Yvon growled. “You’re not on show.”
Raoul’s laugh tinkled like ice cubes in a cocktail glass. Once more, it sounded close, very close. The hairs on my arms rose in unison, and I fought the urge to run. “Oh yes, I am.”
“Well then, keep your act together. You’re driving me nuts with your infernal whispering and whooshing, Monsieur Dubois.” Yvon pronounced the name in disdain.
I nodded in sympathy, my heart thumping. Yes, Raoul needed to keep his bits together, whatever those might be made of.
He sighed. “Nothing wrong with my name. Look, I’m bushed. Not only did I have to manifest some clothes and make sure I was visible to everybody, no, I went the whole hog and ensured people could trace my scent. I even touched Mel. Can you imagine the effort that took?”
Yvon clapped slowly. “I’m proud of you, my friend.”
Raoul growled, and the fine hairs on my body stood to attention again. “Yes, yes, keep joking if you must. Be grateful I’ve been around long enough. Otherwise, you wouldn’t get to see me for a while after such a stunt. As it stands, I will have to rest, and the next time I need to take it easy on the materialization front.”
“What a shame. I’ll make sure to be devastated.”
“You’re a real joker, aren’t you? Don’t forget, you want something from me.”
“Bah , you should know me better than this. I don’t respond well to extortion. No way am I going to sell my soul for a spoon, not even this one.”
“I don’t deal in souls, and you know that. You offered your help. I never asked for it. For the records, I appreciate your support with finding the Legrands. We’ve made some progress. But now we need a hand. A female hand.”
“Surely, Paulette would oblige.” Yvon’s voice carried a mocking undertone.
“Don’t be ridiculous. Neither you nor I want that female horror to find anything. Mel is a much better person. In return for services rendered, we ensure she can write her book. Perhaps, her writing a bestseller attracts the Legrands. It’s win-win as they say nowadays, no?”
“I don’t want her to get hurt.”
Raoul’s voice rustled like dried leaves under the hedge. “Ah, it’s like that, is it? Be careful, my friend. With so many scars on your heart, it’s no wonder you are who you are.” The breeze, quiet until now, rose and eddied around my feet.
“I wish I wasn’t.”
He didn’t receive a response.
?I didn’t dare to move. I didn’t dare to breathe. Not loudly, anyway. All around me, the shadows thickened while the balmy night air dried the sweat on my brow. Yvon splashed his feet in the pool, until three shapes bounded across the lawn, panting anxiously.
“Hello, boys. Took you a while to get here, eh? Wimps, the lot of you. Don’t worry, the coast is clear as one says. He won’t return tonight. He needs his beauty sleep.”
Uh, what?
The dogs whined and wuffed uneasily, crowding their master, ears pricked. One canine barked into the gloom shrouding my garden. And me.
Did they sense my presence? I should have left, really, but my brain was preoccupied with processing the weird exchange, which made moving impossible.
I hadn’t misunderstood anything, and my first theory had been smack on target. Raoul didn’t have an aura, because the man wasn’t among the living.
My stomach clenched. Not only that, he lacked a body. Instead, he materialized and did it well enough to fool not only me but also Paulette and two middle-aged tourists.
What was he? Demon? Vampire? The latter would fit in with the need for the beauty sleep Yvon mentioned. A shame the intel on paranormal creatures was scarce, but then plenty of experts were convinced they didn’t exist outside fiction.
Telepathy, teleporting objects, soothsaying, and similar gigs were real, but weird entities—such as werewolves, fallen angels, ghosts, and vampires—most likely not.
Even experts made mistakes.
Frantically, I rummaged through my scanty knowledge. A demon might be forced to materialize, something a vampire or werewolf did not need. Did Raoul throw a shadow? No matter how much I wracked my feverish brain, I couldn’t remember.
Surely, I would have noticed the lack of one. Most importantly, the man freely splashed around in the water. No self-respecting vampire I ever read about would do such a thing. In any case, ghosts weren’t part of the equation. They only came out at night. However, my knowledge was based on books, films, and the odd article. The reality might be different.
Yvon would know more, but I could not ask him, not only because the two men were obviously in cahoots. Not friends, no, more like brothers in crime, guarding the treasure of Capbreton and involved in a conspiracy to trace the descendants of the Legrands.
None of this made any sense.
My poor heart was doing overtime. Any more of this and I would go into cardiac arrest. I slowed my breathing until the bongos in my chest dimmed their volume. My thoughts, however, raced on in a flat-out gallop.
He chased after one spoon when there were plenty in his restaurant. Safe to assume this particular implement had to be special.
Are you sure they were talking about a spoon?
Duh, they used the word cuillière which meant spoon, basta . Unless they had been discussing Gruyère cheese?
Not impossible but unlikely.
Bloody French, they babbled away at warp speed and slurred their words. Even if I understood and spoke the lingo almost like a native; almost was the operative word. The local dialect made things a lot worse. Plus, the acoustics had been less than ideal, making Raoul sound as if he’d been talking from a dungeon.
The thought yanked me back to the bloodsucker theme. Was he the master vampire and Yvon acting the adept?
No way, if anything it should be the other way around. Somehow, Yvon struck me as being the more senior of the two. However, he was the one whose aura fluctuated as if caught between life and death.
So not helpful . I shook off the thought.
Had they been talking about the treasure? They must have. What else would the two men want to protect from Paulette.
Yes, sometimes she acted callous and she could be pushy, though calling her a beast was over the top. Unless Yvon and Raoul meant it literally and the dainty librarian was the real monster here?
My heartbeat quieted. Making sense of the bizarre exchange in my neighbor’s garden helped to raise a flimsy screen of logic between myself and words wafting through my mind like the remnants of a waking dream.
“Wuff?”
Even edgier than before, the dogs scurried around their master.
“ Zut , Athos, Porthos. Aramis, heel.”
The biggest of the hairy hounds looked in my direction, his shining nose sniffing the breeze. A faint growl vibrated in his throat.
Oh, blast, the dogs. Step by step, I crept backward, away from the gate, away from Yvon and his canine musketeers.
At least that had been the general plan until I stepped into a vole hole and lost my balance. My flailing arms hit the rough bark of an apple tree. With a crack and a rustle, a small branch broke off. The torch slipped from my pocket and landed on a stone with a ping . The light came on, a feeble ray pointing straight at the hedge and the panel behind me.
Pandemonium erupted in my neighbor’s garden.
Crap on toast.
?I streaked across the lawn like greased lightning. Bad idea if I stepped into a vole hole and twisted my ankle. I would be mincemeat.
“Mel, stop.” Yvon’s voice ripped through the evening.
The dogs barked like things possessed. Something scratched and crunched behind me—Yvon, removing the panel.
I reached the wobbly tiles surrounding the house and sprinted for the door. Keys, I needed my keys.
I stumbled up the steps and came to a panting halt. Tiny stars dancing in front of my eyes, I wrestled with my tunic and fumbled in the pockets of my shorts. Found the keys—and dropped them.
They cluttered to the floor, hidden in the darkness congealing on the mat. Why did I forget to buy the bloody light bulb?
I could have howled with frustration.
My ears straining for the rattling and barks erupting from behind, I crouched and patted first the cracked concrete of the steps, then the bristly coconut mat.
Where had those blasted keys got to—ah, there. The warm metallic object cradled in my fist, I sprung from my crouch and stabbed at the keyhole.
A loud thump sounded from the orchard followed by creaking and the patter of swift paws on the grass. Excited barking and growls ripped through the darkness.
“Leave the voles alone.” Yvon’s voice lashed out like a whip.
Good doggies. Play with the voles and leave me alone.
The front door opened. I slipped through, slammed it shut, and rammed the bolt home.
Only a few heartbeats later, heavy bodies thundered into the door panel, and it shuddered in its frame. The hellhounds exploded into another barking fit, but the volley was muffled. As ugly as the door might be, it was solid enough.
The lid of the letterbox rattled, and I backed into the hat stand. It wobbled and fell over with a crash that reverberated through Villa Glorieuse’s gloomy interior.
“Mel, you’ve got to let me in. I need to talk to you,” said Yvon through the slit in the door. This time, he spoke English.
“No. No, you don’t.” My heart banged against the inside of my chest, begging to be released. Did he think I was stupid enough to invite a vampire or whatever he was into my house?
“Mel, I don’t know how much you overheard, but things aren’t what you think.”
“You don’t say. Eh, how would you know what I think?”
Vampires hated garlic. I dashed into the kitchen, switched on the lights, and blinked while tiny blue spots danced in front of my eyes. The paper bag with the fresh cloves I had bought earlier today sat on the kitchen top. I ripped it open, and a pungent aroma hit my nose.
“Mel, please.” His voice echoed through a shadowy corridor. I had forgotten to switch on the light.
I corrected my oversight and returned to the door, blinking at the light, garlic in hand.
“Mel?” The lid of the letter slit rattled.
“Take this.” I shoved the cloves through the slit.
“Urgh.”
Blessed silence fell. Hooray, I had vanquished my supernatural foe.
“Mel?”
Maybe not.
“This is excellent garlic, where did you get it?”
I leaned my forehead against the rough plasterwork of the wall. This couldn’t be happening. Of course, Yvon was a chef. Perhaps, he also was a gourmet vampire?
“Look, I’m sorry. I suspect you learned a lot more than you should have. Everything’s fine, but I need to explain certain things, and this is not the type of conversation one should conduct through a letter slit. Sit, Aramis.”
A wet nose snuffled at the slit in the door. From atop the stairs came an inquisitive “Meep?” The next instant, the cat plopped downstairs. “No, Louis, stay where you are. There are dogs at the door. And a bloodsucker.”
For a moment, he was quiet. Yvon snorted with laughter. “What? Oh, that explains the garlic. I must admit, I was wondering. Vampire? No, seriously.” The way his voice trembled, he must be shaking with merriment.
“I’m glad one of us finds this funny, for I don’t.”
“If you’re too scared to invite me into your house, fine, I understand.” Another snort. “ Incroyable . Okay, I’ll leave. I’ll also leave the gate open. I’ll wait for you in my garden. We can talk there. But we need to talk.”
“About Raoul?”
“Him as well.”
“What is he? A demon that can materialize at will?”
The cat rose on his hind legs to sniff the letter slit. Louis purred when I pulled him away and took him in my arms.
Yvon drew a deep breath. “ Dame , it’s as I feared. You heard too much. No, he isn’t. Nor is he dangerous. Most of the time. Nor am I, in case you wondered. Unless you criticize my cooking, of course. See you in fifteen minutes?”
“I’m not entering either your garden or your house.”
He groaned. “I don’t plan to ravish and suck you dry, in case you might worry.”
It took an effort to control the tremor in my voice. “Why would you want to ravish me?”
“Isn’t that what vampires do? I must admit, I have no idea. Bon , you have a point. I wouldn’t come either if I were you. Told you, we need to talk and do it now. Otherwise, you won’t sleep, you know.” His voice had lowered to a caress.
“Since when do you worry about my sleeping patterns?”
“Since you overheard what you shouldn’t have.”
“Well, it’s your fault. Why do you discuss secrets in your garden?”
“Raoul can’t come into my house. Where else would we talk? How on earth did you slip in? Your horrid front gate makes a racket, but I heard nothing.”
“I oiled it.”
He was right. I needed to know what was going on and not because I feared insomnia. Not on his home turf, though, and not before I had regained control of my trembling limbs. Whatever we did, it would need to happen soon and somewhere safe, with lots of people around.
“You’ll get one chance at pleading your case,” I said. “ La Bar des Baleines at eleven tonight. It’ll be crammed with tourists, there’s noisy free jazz, and nobody can listen in.”
“Great idea,” he said. “I know the owner. He’ll find us a quiet spot in the garden. We can have a little snack. I was preparing my dinner when Raoul popped by.”
Food was now the last thing on my mind, though the bar would not only offer a safe zone but also serve alcohol. I craved a glass of red wine or two to take the edges off this madness. “All right, then. But let me warn you, if you don’t have a good explanation, this will have consequences.”
“Like what?” His voice sounded amused. “You can’t call the police since they won’t believe you. You can’t tell anybody around here, it would only confirm what they already think.”
“Like what?”
“ Elles sont folles, les Anglaises. Englishwomen are mad. See you at the bar. Come on, boys, let’s go.”
Footsteps crackled on the gravel accompanied by a scuttle of paws until, apart from the purring cat, the vicinity was quiet. I held on to the warm body in my arms and breathed in Louis’s comforting scent, until I could trust myself not to scream.
Only then did I place the furry mop on the tiles, remove the bolt, and open the door.
The stoop stood empty.
And the bastard had nicked my garlic.