24. Julien
twenty-four
Julien
T he grandfather clock in the corner of the dining room chimed eight p.m.
Darcy wandered back into the room from the kitchen. “Still dead to the world?”
“Yup. He’s putting me to sleep now.” Elliot yawned, slumping backwards on his chair.
Julien’s eyes flicked straight back to Cinn. “I think he’s twitching more. Look.”
“You said that five times already.” They fell back into silence until Elliot said in a soft, low voice, “I’m not blind, you know.” He nodded to Cinn.
Oh God. Julien knew this was coming sooner or later, but the sudden lurch into this conversation threw him.
“Hmm?”
Darcy quickly slipped back out of the room.
“I can see the way you look at him. That he looks at you.”
A moment of deafening silence.
“I’m sorry,” Julien eventually whispered, more to the floor than Elliot, unable to bear any hurt in his best friend’s eyes.
“You’ve got nothing to be sorry for. He’s a cool dude. I like him. So much, in fact, I want him to stick around.” Elliot’s tone spelled out a clear message underneath his words. “But if there is something going on, I would rather you didn’t hide it from me. ”
Julien nodded, and Elliot quietly stood up and walked out, leaving him alone with Cinn.
Exhaling a heavy, shaky breath, Julien moved closer to him. Asleep, he looked years younger, the stresses of life washed away from his face, leaving a boyish innocence in its wake. A freckle on his right eyelid that Julien hadn’t noticed before drew his attention. He brushed his finger over it, lightly tugging it upwards towards the tiny metal bar that shot through his eyebrow.
Julien tucked some of Cinn’s chestnut waves back up under his new beanie, running his thumb over the ribbed cuff. He smiled. Cinn had worn it every possible moment since he’d given it to him.
Mission success.
Of course, Julien definitely hadn’t spent almost two hours browsing high-end clothing boutiques before finding this perfect hat on a corner market stall.
He’d definitely not spent an age considering how the beautiful shade of olive green would complement the earthiness of his hazel eyes.
And his heart definitely did not beat impossibly fast when he’d awaited Cinn’s reaction to it.
“Julien, why are you touching him?” Darcy snapped from behind him, making him jump. “Just leave him alone.”
Elliot’s laugh almost distracted him from noticing Cinn twitch again, a brief spasm that raised his torso from the wooden table. Julien pressed two fingers against Cinn’s neck, feeling the strong pulse of his increasing heart rate.
Another twitch, the tiniest of moans escaping Cinn’s lips.
In the space of a blink, the symbols Julien drew earlier faded away, the ink seemingly absorbed to leave behind a blank canvas of light-brown skin.
“ Non! What’s happening? Darcy, put the band back on him, now! ”
Darcy lunged for the golden bangle but froze when a strange sound emanated from Cinn’s mouth. A cross between a cough and a grunt, Cinn’s unconscious form abruptly heaved, as if he was choking.
“What the hell?” muttered Elliot.
“Turn him over,” Julien called out, and rushed to do just that.
“The recovery position!” shouted Darcy, but Julien and Elliot only blinked in response. “Oh, for goodness sake,” she snapped, pushing Julien out of the way to bend Cinn’s arms and legs, creating a contoured L-shape.
His strange seizing continued, his eyelids fluttering slightly ajar. “I think he’s coming back,” said Julien, relief pouring into his voice.
One more almighty cough, and then miniscule flecks of darkness came bursting out of his mouth all at once, a thousand or more floating balls, impossibly emitting the darkest form of light.
Stunned, Julien could only watch as they appeared to organise, swirling and glueing together to fashion some sort of shape.
“Shadowmotes?” Darcy flinched away from them. “But—”
They all gasped as the shape became distinctively animalistic. Four legs, three tails. Two ears. A writhing shadow-creature of darkness, although only a small one. A touch bigger than the average cat, and still expanding, the shadowmotes multiplying to create a denser form.
It stopped.
It arched its back in an unmistakably feline way. Cocked its head—a subtle elongation to its jaw, shallow dips where eyeballs should be—at them.
“Uh… guys? What the fuck is that?”
Only now realising they’d left Cinn unattended on the table, Julien spun to find him sitting up, pale, eyes wide and stunned. Then he slid to the floor, crossing the room, hand extended.
“Don’t touch it!” hissed Julien, reaching out to stop him.
“It’s… it’ s Béatrice!” Cinn said.
Julien laughed, manic and high-pitched.
“No, really, it is!”
Julien studied the eyeless monster, which was crouched low to the floor now, ears flattened as its head flicked between them. It hissed, an eerie, guttural sound that no normal animal would be able to produce. Then, with one final snort, it spun and darted into the kitchen, using its four legs in sinuous, shadowy strides.
Cinn threw himself towards it, but his legs gave way, sending his knees to hit the wooden floor with a heavy thud.
Julien rushed to his side, jumping out of the way of the other two, who charged after it.
“It’s gone out through the window!” Darcy shrieked. “Get it!”
Then there was the click of the back door handle and the pounding of Darcy and Elliot’s footsteps fading as they chased the creature.
Still on the floor, Julien heaved on Cinn’s arm to pull him up. There was still a slight tremble in his legs.
“Sorry. I always forget it takes a while for my body to behave again,” he muttered.
Julien pushed him towards a chair, and when he was seated, he could wait no longer. “So what happened? Did you find her?”
“Yes,” Cinn said, and the relief that coursed through Julien was enough to almost knock him to the ground. “I did.”
“Merci,” Julien breathed, pressing his palms together.
“I had to chase her for a while. She was a little girl, in a white dress. I watched you guys have a picnic in a field. Then we went on a… trip through some of her other memories for a while.” Julien tensed. “You were in them. Every single one.” Cinn stared directly into his eyes. Swallowed as if choked with emotion. “She loved you so much, Julien. I could feel it.”
A prickle of goosebumps tingled across the back of Julien’s neck. “Which… memories did you see? ”
Julien waited as Cinn considered what to relay to him, his hesitation obvious.
There were so many miserable memories he and Béatrice had experienced together and then, of course, there was the icing on the cake.
Please, please, not that one.
Cinn rose from the chair, then gently clutched Julien’s arm. “I didn’t realise—” he started in a whisper, but Julien raised his hand.
“ Please ,” he said, begging him with his eyes. “I can’t right now.”
Nodding, Cinn kept hold of him. “Okay,” he whispered, then pressed a quick kiss to Julien’s forehead, before offering him a shy smile and ducking his head.
The intimate gesture froze Julien momentarily, knocked him off kilter. Before he had a chance to recover, there were footsteps in the hall—Elliot and Darcy had returned.
“She’s miles gone by now, little minx,” said Darcy, panting and shaking her head. “Not a chance in hell we’re catching her. Maybe we should buy some cat food, leave it out?”
Elliot snorted, folding his arms. “I’m not convinced it’s Béatrice.”
“It is ,” said Cinn. “I know it’s her. They felt the same. Had the same energy.”
At Elliot’s raised eyebrow, Julien said, “If Cinn says it’s her, then we’ll have to believe him.” He glared at him to close the matter.
“Obviously, you’d want to believe it,” Elliot protested.
“I’m not sure I’d want to believe that Béatrice has returned to us as some sort of eyeless cat demon thing,” Julien said, voice raised. He wasn’t in the mood to argue.
Darcy stepped into the middle of them. “Let’s not worry about it right now. I’m sure whatever it is isn’t dangerous,” she said, looking far less than sure. “We can ask… someone about it. I’ll do some reading.”
Ushering them all into her living room, Darcy poured them out some tea she’d brewed while Cinn was gone. This trip had taken him almost six hours. Julien had remained at the table, watching the rise and fall of his sleeping body, tensing at his every twitch, whereas Darcy had eventually gotten restless and wandered around her cottage.
Cinn collapsed in the emerald armchair, exhaustion evident, plain as day. A shiver tore through his body.
Julien touched the back of his hand. “You’re freezing. Come sit by the fire.”
An eye roll. “I’m fine.”
Julien grabbed the blue blanket that was spread across Darcy’s sofa to drape it around Cinn’s shoulders. Cinn pulled it around him, mumbling his thanks without looking at him, tiny rosy splotches dotting his cheeks.
Julien sat on the rug by his feet, and as he looked up at him, he was struck by the memory of this same arrangement on the day they’d met him. A lifetime ago now. If he could go back in time to that moment, what would he say to himself?
This one is different.
Don’t fuck it up.
“So, you talked to her then?” asked Elliot. “Tell us what happened.”
Cinn sighed, wiping his hand over his face. Then he opened his mouth and began his tale.
A field of daisies, a field of poppies. A picnic Julien couldn’t remember, as idyllic as it sounded. That was okay. He would love to pretend that it had happened.
A tapestry of memories, briefly outlined, with several glances at Julien throughout, asking, is this okay to share?
Cinn kindly summarised the final memory as ‘the day their mother died’. Yes, it was the day their mother died. However, it was also the day a piece of him died, too. A day that altered his future in countless ways. It was the end of his childhood.
When Cinn described talking to Béatrice on a star-filled beach, Julien edged closer towards him, every muscle tense from anticipating what might finally be revealed. Listening to his recount, the Béatrice he’d described meeting didn’t sound quite right. She sounded too… childlike. And clearly, she was somewhat confused.
Some information had been gleaned, however. Julien held up Béatrice’s locket as Cinn relayed what she’d said about it.
“So, her locket was tampered with?” Julien wondered aloud, brushing his finger over the damaged side. “It’s what caused her to…” channel so many motes that she burst into flames. “If that’s true, then it fits with the difficulty I had getting the locket to be released to me. Someone high up was blocking the request.”
Darcy slid off the sofa to inspect it. “But who could have done that if she never took it off?”
Cinn leaned forward. “How did she get to wherever she was? What country was it again?”
“The Philippines.”
“She might have taken it off to use the Baths?”
“Oh!” gasped Darcy. “They didn’t travel directly to the Philippines. They don’t have any receiver baths there.” Darcy’s eyes came alive in the way they only did when she was on the verge of solving a puzzle. “I’m pretty sure the entire aid taskforce was displaced to the Ho Chi Minh Baths, in Vietnam. Then they would have flown across the ocean, I think. So you’re right, Cinn!”
Julien wanted to kiss her. And kiss Cinn. Though that wasn’t anything unusual.
“Their stuff would have followed by cargo plane a day later,” said Julien. “Plenty of time for someone to tamper with it.”
“But what did they do to it?” Elliot drummed his foot against the floor. “That’s the question.”
Yes, in addition to who, and why. And all of the other millions of questions that still remained .
Julien’s gaze returned to Cinn. “Was there anything else about the locket?”
He shook his head.
Julien steeled himself. “And did you ask about… the Arcane Purifiers?”
Cinn’s face shifted subtly as he controlled his expression, but gave himself away by biting his lip. Clenching his fists together, Julien pressed until he could feel the sting of his fingernails.
“I did. She didn’t want to tell me anything about them. I mentioned the attack on Auri, and then she asked if you were angry with her.”
A sudden lump in his throat had Julien turning to face the fire, unwilling to allow the others to see the emotions that were brimming underneath his surface, threatening to spill.
A hand fell upon his shoulder. “Hey. Come with me for a cigarette?”
Julien rose to follow Cinn out of the room, the pair remaining silent all the way to the garden bench.
There was only one cigarette left in the packet that Cinn offered him. Julien lit it, inhaled, then passed it to Cinn.
Cinn leaned back against the bench, blowing rings of smoke into the sky. “I’ll never get over being able to see the stars here,” he said dreamily. “I didn’t know what I was missing in London.”
“They’re beautiful,” Julien murmured in response, forcing his gaze up to appreciate them, and their gentle twinkle calmed him at once.
“I told Béatrice that you weren’t angry at her at all. I told her how much you loved her.”
Julien swallowed. “Thank you.” The thought of her alone in death believing that was too much to bear.
“Do you think we can help her… move on, eventually?”
Cinn snorted. “What, into ‘the light’? I did try that for a bit, a few years after I started slipping. None of the ghosts I’ve ever spoken to have ever seen any light. I don’t think it’s actually a thing. Anyway, apparently she wants to be an ugly cat for a bit, anyway. ”
“She didn’t really like cats,” Julien mused. “She liked dogs more.”
“Well, an eyeless dog would be even more terrifying, so I’m glad she went cat.”
Julien considered him, smiling. Cinn grinned back, and for a stretching moment, they remained like that, two paralysed statues, each awaiting the other’s next move.
Then Cinn shuffled across the bench towards Julien to hook his ankle around his. “I’m sorry about earlier. When I accused you of only wanting to fuck me so that I’d keep trying to reach Béatrice.”
Julien flinched at the memory, the crass language. “Maybe it’s not entirely your fault. I clearly don’t always give off the right impression.”
“No—”
Silencing Cinn by grabbing his hand, Julien continued, “I want to clarify that it’s one hundred percent not the case. I have many, many reasons for wanting to fuck you, and none of them are related to my sister.” Julien interlaced their fingers. Besides, I want to do so much more than fuck you, beautiful boy.
Cinn flicked the remnants of the dead cigarette into the ashtray. “What sort of reasons?”
His eyes were molten pools of gold that Julien wanted to swim in. Closing the space between them, Julien tugged on Cinn’s hat.
“Your beanie look is kind of cute, even though that grey one was so ratty and definitely needed a wash.” Preferably burn it, and keep my one on your head forever.
A cackle of laughter, eyes sparkling with delight. “Wow, your bar is really low if all it takes is a ratty beanie hat.”
Julien dropped his hand to cup Cinn’s cheek, stroking his bottom lip with his thumb. “Your smile is fucking gorgeous.”
Cinn wasn’t laughing now. He was staring at Julien like he was the first one to ever say that to him. And Julien hoped desperately that it was true .
Clutching Cinn’s baggy hoodie, he continued, “You dress like a ragamuffin but I sort of love it. And you’ve got a heart of gold. So much purer than mine could ever be.”
Julien brushed his knuckles across Cinn’s jaw, relishing the way his eyelashes fluttered closed in response.
“You call me out on my shit. You see me.” And I think, if I managed to let you in, you’d make me feel safe.
Cinn licked his lips, opening his mouth to respond.
The shrill screech of Darcy’s house phone sounded from the open kitchen window. Three crisps rings, then the faintest ‘hello? ’ .
“I… don’t know what to say to this,” Cinn eventually whispered into the space between them. He buried his head in his hands.
Say that you’ll give me a chance. That you’ll let me try.
The back door flew open, and Darcy leaned out of the frame to shout, “Cinn, it’s for you.”
Jerking backwards as if electrocuted, Cinn spluttered, “What? Me?”
An uneasy feeling came over Julien, an inexplicable sense of dread.
“Your friend Tyler must have written down this number at some point, because now this guy Bradley is on the line.”
The feeling intensified.
“What does he want?” asked Cinn, jumping to his feet.
Julien was one step behind Cinn all the way to the living room.
He watched as Cinn picked up the red receiver from its rotary telephone base.
Then he paced up and down, the one sided snippets of conversation he overheard sending his brain spiralling.
“What did he do?”
“Fuck, they took all of it?”
“Is he hurt? Is he in danger? ”
Darcy grabbed Julien’s wrist as he passed her on his frantic path around her living room. “Julien, sit down,” she hissed. “What’s wrong with you?”
He stared at her, not understanding how she could be so calm.
Then Cinn’s phone call appeared to wrap up, with him promising, “I’ll be there as quickly as possible.”
What? Would he? Where? London?
And if he went there, would he come back?
When Cinn hung up the phone, face pale and ashen, Julien announced in a rush, “I’m coming.”
Cinn blinked, then shook his head slowly as Elliot and Darcy glanced at each other. He ignored them. They’d come. He needed them.
“Tyler’s fucked up. I don’t know all the details, but he somehow ended up owing Heino Richter money again. He was dealing for him again and then somehow lost a lot of product.” He sat back on the armchair and slammed his fist into the soft armrest. “ Goddamn it!”
Darcy flew to his side even quicker than Julien. “Don’t worry,” she said. “We can send some more money.”
“No, I need to go there. ASAP. Apparently, he’s in a state, and asking for me. He’s hurt. Richter is out for blood this time. But it’s okay. I don’t expect you guys to come with me.” He looked between them and the slightest glimmer of hope in his eyes said otherwise.
“We’ll all come,” said Julien, putting force behind his words. There was no way Cinn was going to London alone to drag his ex out of danger. He’d like to finally meet Tyler face to face, anyway. The man taking centre stage in so many of his stories. The man that made Cinn constantly worry about him. The man he’d do anything for.
“Elliot?”
Elliot slowly nodded. “I’d miss a training session, then some work shifts,” he said. “But if it’s that important… ”
“As much as I hate to miss out, I really think someone needs to stay here and keep looking for that… cat . Or at least be listening out for any news of… cat attacks.” Darcy grimaced, twitching back her living-room curtain as if the creature would be right outside, waiting to be let in. “I’m tempted to say we need to turn ourselves in, but we might have a lot of explaining to do.” She turned to Cinn. “Beside, I wouldn’t be terribly useful in London. Definitely take Elliot, though. I’d worry if you didn’t.”
Darcy’s words were a sudden jagged knife slice across his skin. They were true—Elliot could keep them safe in ways Julien could never—but it stung, nevertheless.
“Thank you,” said Cinn, looking between them all, a small smile playing on his lips that Julien itched to trace over with his fingers. “I would love for you to come.”