Chapter Four
GENEVIèVE
A week passed without incident — as long as swooping dragons, outbursts of magic, and the guys’ constant bickering didn’t count as incidents.
But otherwise…a normal week at Chateau Nocturne.
Projects progressed, some faster, some slower, and the guys quietly celebrated the milestone of only two weeks left in their contracts with Gordon.
Henrik and Claudette seemed to have gotten enough (or too much) of each other, because they no longer shacked up at night, at least as far as I could tell. I wasn’t sure how they felt about it, but Mina and I were relieved, to say the least.
All in all, we’d all achieved enough of a routine that Mina finally allowed herself and Marius a four-day, belated honeymoon/getaway.
“Bye!” We all waved from the front steps to see them off that Friday morning.
Marius revved the motorcycle he’d borrowed from a friend, Mina hopped on the back in a leather getup that was about as far from her teacher persona as she could get, and off they roared, heading who knew where.
“Have fun!” I called.
“Oh, they’ll have fun, all right.” Bene smirked.
I elbowed him in the ribs. “Grow up.”
He laughed. “I’ll grow up when the boss returns.” He meant Mina, of course. “Until then—”
Roux growled under his breath. “Until then, we work. Mina left a list.”
He showed us a sheaf of pages covered with detailed notes. Lots and lots of notes.
Bene sighed. “Of course she did.”
Slowly, everyone headed off to work, and did indeed work, as we did six days a week. Yes, we even worked Saturdays, though only to midafternoon. Sunday was a day off, and I had a plan for mine. One that didn’t involve paint, ladders, or any type of renovation work.
Oh, and no tigers. But that was the tricky part.
I woke extra early that morning — well, early for a Sunday — and snuck out a side door. I tiptoed to Mina’s battered little Citroen and closed the door quietly, determined to sneak off unnoticed.
I winced as the engine coughed to life and at the loud crunch of tires over gravel. Gripping the steering wheel tightly, I turned the corner to the front of the chateau and—
Thump! Roux stepped in front of the car, bracing both hands against the hood.
I hit the brakes. Jeez. Was he planning to hold me back with sheer muscle power?
“Where are you going?” he growled, ignoring my curses.
I beeped. Hard.
“Where. Are. You. Going?” he gritted out, word by word.
I rolled down the window. Yes, by hand. The car was that old.
“I have some errands, if you must know.”
“Errands.” His tone was flat.
I nodded. “Errands.”
“What errands?”
I threw up both hands. “How is that any of your business?”
“What errands?” he growled.
“Small, unimportant errands not too far away,” I snipped.
He snorted, then pointed to the garden. “Mina was attacked right over there. She was attacked in London too.”
I rolled my eyes. “Good thing I’m not going to London.”
He crossed his arms, trying to look big and intimidating. Mostly succeeding.
I beeped again. “I can go anywhere I want, dammit!”
He walked around to the passenger side and got in. Which was quite the process, given his size versus the space in the compact car. Then he pointed down the driveway.
“Fine. Go anywhere you want.”
“Alone,” I emphasized. “I can go anywhere I want alone.”
He buckled his seat belt. “Just pretend I’m not here.”
Ha. Having a herd of antelope in the car would be less distracting than Roux.
“I’ll be out all day,” I warned.
He jutted his jaw. “Great.”
I tried a new tack. “Roux, it’s Sunday. Your only day off. Why don’t you enjoy it?” I motioned toward the stables, where he devoted every free moment to repairing our vintage Jaguar. “You could spend your day there.”
He socked me with a dark look. “Yes. I could.”
“So, go. I promise, I won’t tell Mina.” When he gave me a strange look, I snorted. “I know she’s making you follow me for protection, but it really isn’t necessary.”
He opened his mouth, then closed it and thought a while.
“It’s not safe out there. Anything could happen.”
I dropped my head against the steering wheel and kept it there.
Roux didn’t say a word. Nor did he exit the car.
“Fine.” I straightened in a huff. If he was so dedicated to making my life miserable, he would have to deal.
I sped down the driveway and swung onto the village road. The force of the turn threw Roux my way, and our shoulders brushed.
Zing! More static electricity.
I shot him an angry look and raced on.
Roux glanced around as we passed Auberre’s bakery, church, and war memorial, but he didn’t say a word. He didn’t say anything when we passed the next two villages either, but he did look perplexed when we passed the local hypermarché without stopping.
“Where exactly is this small errand?” he finally asked.
I kept my eyes straight ahead. “Paris.”
He whipped around. “Paris?”
I nodded firmly.
“How is that a small errand?”
“It is small,” I reasoned. “It’s just far away.”
He stared at me suspiciously. “And what exactly do you plan to do in Paris?”
“Oh, you know. Walk along the Seine. Check out a few bookshops. Pop in to see Gordon…”
“Oh no. Absolutely not. Out of the question.” He motioned for me to pull over.
I did not.
“I have to go. I’ve been promising him for weeks.”
“Promise a little longer.”
I shook my head. “Why put it off?”
He snorted. “You mean, why wait for a time when your sister could talk some sense into you?”
“That too,” I muttered.
He huffed. “Your logic is faulty, and that’s putting it politely.”
A fair point, and I knew it. Still, I shook my head. “Gordon is my godfather. He’s looked out for us for years. I can’t just ghost him.”
“He’s a crook and a liar, and he’s used you.”
“He’s used Mina, and that’s terrible. But he also helped us when we needed it most. He paid most of my college tuition, for goodness’ sake! The least I can do is drop in for tea. Then he’ll get off my case.”
Roux’s nostrils flared. “He’s been on your case? What does he want?”
Boy, the guy really did suspect everyone.
“He just wants to chat.” I cut off his retort. “I know, I know. I have to be careful what I say. But I owe it to him to at least say hello.”
Roux grimaced. “Safest not to say anything.”
“Don’t you think it looks suspicious if we completely avoid him?”
His grimace told me I’d scored a point.
“Just two hours on the train in, an hour at Gordon’s, and two hours back,” I said.
Roux grimaced. “Just how I like to spend my Sundays.”
I jerked a thumb behind me. “I could put you on the next bus home, and you could enjoy your Sunday with the Jaguar.”
He shook his head firmly.
Which was how I found myself on the train to Paris with Roux a short time later. Parking in Paris was a bitch, so we always drove to our nearest station and took the train from there.
It wasn’t a holiday weekend, nor were the personnel on strike, nor had any demonstrations been called, so the train was on time — hallelujah — and relatively uncrowded.
Well, most of the train was uncrowded. Roux kept me boxed in at my window seat like I was the Hope Diamond aboard a train full of jewel thieves. And boy, did the guy take up a lot of space. Him and those bulging cargo pockets of his.
“What do you even have in there?” I demanded when his thigh brushed against mine for the third time.
He shrugged. “Just the bare necessities.”
My mind filled in the blanks. Grenades? A rocket launcher? A Swiss Army Knife and bolts of every possible size? Or did he carry a nail clipper in case his claws grew a little too long?
He spent the first hour staring ahead furiously, like this was my fault and not his. I took out my sketchbook, drew our 1936 Jaguar, and showed it to him.
He grimaced. “Rub it in, why don’t you.”
“I’m not rubbing it in. I’m reminding you you have choices.”
He looked away, muttering, “Not as many as you think.”
I frowned. What did that mean?
I turned a page and sketched an angry tiger.
Roux huffed. “The stripes are all wrong.”
He didn’t correct me on the beast’s expression, though.
I turned another page, thought a while, and started sketching again.
Roux peeked from time to time, and I sensed his curiosity mount.
“What’s that?” he finally asked.
“I’m working on a design for the ballroom, but I can’t decide on one.”
Roux, Bene, and my sister had come up with the idea of painting every room in the chateau with the theme of a different artist. She had already painted a replica of Franz Marc’s The Tower of Blue Horses in the corner of one room, with the idea to do the remaining walls in complementary colors.
We had plans for a Van Gogh room too, with sunflowers painted on the walls, and furniture and bedding that matched the scene in his Bedroom in Arles.
But the ballroom was huge, so I had to find a theme that would work over a large area without becoming totally unmanageable.
I pointed to my doodles. “I was thinking Picasso, but Guernica is just too depressing.”
He rubbed his chin, and I braced myself for a suggestion along the lines of Napoleon at The Battle of Waterloo. Something big, bold, and military. At best, I expected Liberty Leading the People or Rembrandt’s The Night Watch.
“What about Chagall?” Roux tried. “He made those big canvases, didn’t he?”
Wow. A military man who knew art. Who would have guessed?
“True, but I’m not a big fan of Chagall.”
“I guess The Raft of the Medusa also counts as depressing.” He thought it over some more. “What’s that really big one in the Louvre? The Feast… or wait, The Wedding…”
“The Wedding Feast at Cana,” I filled in, impressed. “Do you hang out at the Louvre in your spare time or something?”
He looked away. “Maybe. Sometimes.”
Definitely, I decided.
“It gets too crowded, though. Same with the Musée d’Orsay,” he muttered.
It was no surprise that this tiger didn’t like crowds. But that he knew art… Well, that was a revelation. Were hushed galleries his way of compensating for the noise and chaos of war zones he’d been deployed to?