Chapter 6 #2
Somewhere else. The question hung in the air as I considered it.
I thought about the city above, which was unrecognizable to me now.
The den below, which had been repurposed, abolished.
Thibault, who still lived but seemed altered, different, and thus no longer truly my friend. Then there was… “Louis,” I said.
She tilted her head in question, but as her mouth shaped my friend’s name, the sound was snatched away by the rumbling train.
I found that when I stared into her blue eyes, the noise of the rambling, hurtling death machine we were on faded into the background.
“He was meant to be there,” I said slowly.
“When I woke. He would have explained.” That had been our deal, but he had not been there, and I had no idea where to find him.
I did not even know if he yet existed in this world.
Susie studied me for a moment, then gave a small, wry smile. “Yeah,” she said. “Instead, you got stuck with me.” There was mirth in her eyes, and I liked that. How she could see the humor in the situation. It made it feel a little less dire.
I huffed a quiet breath. “Yes,” I said. “It would seem so.” She had somehow stumbled into my sanctuary and woken me, despite layers upon layers of spells and wards that should have prevented exactly such a thing from happening.
She had seemed brash, loud, too different.
Then she’d seduced me into liking her with her sharp wit and quiet strength.
I was very fortunate it was her I was, for the moment, stuck with.
The journey blurred after that. A series of stops, of people entering and exiting, of sensations that layered upon one another until they became almost indistinguishable. By the time we emerged once more into daylight, I felt frayed. Disoriented in a way I had not experienced in centuries.
“The Louvre,” Susie said, gesturing as we walked. I followed her gaze and stopped. The structure was familiar, but as we gazed along the flank of the building, long banners proclaimed exhibitions, and an endless stream of people seemed to be coming and going.
I had visited one artist or another on several occasions here, but I needed only one look to know it was no longer a place where artists stayed in small apartments.
It also did not appear to be a palace any longer, but I did not dare ask what had happened to Napoleon.
A museum, yes, but not one limited in its opening hours to just a handful—one that appeared to be a massive draw to people from all over the world. My ears buzzed with their languages.
How long had I slept? Not even the full stint of three centuries, and yet it had been more than long enough for changes far beyond any I’d seen in my previous centuries on Earth. The thought settled heavily.
We reached a crossing, and I began to suspect the large building across the square was our destination.
In large letters, it boldly proclaimed itself the H?tel du Louvre.
I stepped forward and was abruptly yanked back.
“Whoa, nope!” Susie said, pulling me sharply to her side.
One of the metal beasts tore past, far too close.
“That,” she muttered under her breath, “is called a car. It could kill you if you don’t pay attention. ”
“Noted.” They only seemed terribly unsafe and magical until you inhaled and smelled the fumes of burning petrol.
An engine of some kind. She guided me across the road when it was safe, her hand still firmly around my arm.
By the time we were on the busy square, I was already beginning to think these “cars” were not so bad, certainly not compared to the noise of the underground train.
The hotel, when we reached it, was housed within an older building, though it was not nearly so old as I was, or the palace-turned-museum across the street.
It had a stone facade and tall windows, in a similar style to all the buildings around it, though it had been restored to a level of refinement that spoke of modern wealth.
The interior was immaculate, polished, and filled with quiet voices and soft lighting.
The hotel lobby was beautiful, the front desk manned by several men in livery.
A few guests stood about, and they all stared; my attire alone ensured that, so I was not surprised.
It was, it seemed, more shocking to them in here than it had been out on the street or aboard the noisy train.
Yet the staff did not. They observed, certainly, but their expressions remained composed, their movements practiced.
Trained, I realized, conditioned to be discreet. Exactly the way staff should be.
We ascended to her room without incident, and for the first time since stepping into the street, I felt a measure of control returning.
The enclosed space, the relative quiet, it helped.
There was also something familiar about standing in a building like this, manned by staff and decorated with wealth.
It was not a place I had expected Susie to board at, but perhaps I had mistaken her strange attire.
Perhaps these strange blue pants, with their now-torn knees, were very expensive.
Susie unlocked the door, not with a key but with a strange card that fit precisely into a slot. She pushed it open with a flourish, her expression relieved—like mine no doubt was. Eager to get into her sanctuary and let down her shields, a prospect I also welcomed.
She froze so suddenly that the fine hairs on the back of my neck lifted. I saw immediately what had her so rattled: the disorder. Drawers had been pulled open, fabric strewn across the floor, and a suitcase overturned, its contents scattered like debris. The place had been ransacked.
My senses sharpened instantly. Whatever confusion this new world inspired in me, whatever disorientation lingered…
this, I understood. This was a threat, and I instantly knew I would not abandon Susie to this.
No, I would protect her, and I would make the person who dared lay his fingers on her things pay. Dearly.