Chapter 14 Helena
HELENA
The French accent can either be one of the most beautiful things to grace your ears or nasally irritating in a way that makes you want to punt the owner of it off the nearest balcony.
There is no middle ground.
My mother’s accent had been the former. Her voice still crept into my dreams, settling me to sleep as a child.
I missed it terribly, and being back here woke little flashes of memory that had been buried deep, a slightly off-kilter feeling that this country should feel familiar yet didn’t.
It had stopped being my home the second she had slipped from my life, and my father had been ruthless in his demands that I leave France in the dirt where he believed it belonged.
If he could have beaten the accent out of me, he would have done that, too, but instead I had a strange mix of my two ethnicities.
The men in front of me sounded nothing like her. Maybe it was just this particular cluster of men I’d been forced to listen to for the last fifteen minutes, but I’d already imagined several inventive ways to kill each of them. Slowly.
Maybe it was just men, actually.
I really didn’t like men.
Erryn was two levels above in Boucher’s office with Artemis going over everything she had found in the files, and I had made my way down to see what intel I could get on the general running of the Paris faction.
Their attempt at a rec room was trying very hard to look relaxed.
Low lighting and exposed brick. A bar stocked with every alcohol you could want.
London had a military base feel that was more…
structured. So far, the entire Parisian faction felt like a gentlemen’s club run by upper-class criminals, and I wanted to know if that was Boucher’s influence or Artemis’s.
One of the agents looked me up and down with a clear look of distaste as I tried to delicately question him in English.
“Alors…la petite étrangère ne parle pas francais?” he said, then switched to English. “Why do you need to know? Are you looking for a transfer?”
“Francais basique. Parlez anglais.” I said, using almost the entirety of my limited French vocabulary.
His look of distaste turned to outright contempt.
“Potentially,” I said, nursing the beer I had chosen and ignoring the first part of his taunt. I recognized étrangère as foreigner—outsider—and it stung a little more than it should.
“Stay in London,” another said. “We have no need for weak foreigners here.”
“We can measure dicks if you really want to, princess, but I have a developed frontal lobe, and it really is a waste of my fucking time,” I flung back, eliciting a few snorts from some of the men I had not been introduced to yet.
I ignored the black look I was given, turning to the one who had sounded the most reasonable.
“Tell me why you think Paris holds a candle to London. All I’ve seen so far is overpaid agents in tailored suits and your pretty little art museum upstairs. ”
All of the men bristled at that. Excellent. Fuckers.
“Got some nerve disrespecting the boss like that, girl.” A tall, bald agent who had been silent leaned back in his chair to eyeball me. “Careful.”
“How is the boss?” I asked. “Still alive?”
A dark-haired agent laughed. “Boucher lives, we are told, but he is not the boss. Artemis is the one you need to impress if you want a future in Paris.”
“Artemis is not named second yet,” I said.
The dark-haired agent swiped a hand at me, huffing. “Artemis handles Paris. Maybe not on paper, but she is the hand controlling everything. I would be careful what you say about her, petite gamine. Respect is earned within these walls.”
I sucked on a tooth, regarding him with a look I knew would infuriate him. Anger was the secret to loosening men’s lips. They could be such emotional creatures.
“Is that so?”
My phone buzzed and I checked the notification to see Erryn had messaged, a warmth kindling in my stomach with a flash of memory. She had kissed me like she owned me, and I had been distracted ever since.
Erryn
Status.
I typed out a quick reply.
Territorial fuckers this lot.
The two little ticks turned blue, but she didn’t respond, and I left my phone open next to me.
“What is wrong with London’s faction then?” the dark-haired agent asked. “Or are you—what is the word in English—fourrer son nez dans?”
“Snooping,” a younger agent offered.
“Ah.” He nodded. “Snooping. Pour la Madame Chair canon à la langue mortelle.”
“Can it not be both?” I asked, wracking my memory for à la langue mortelle, but came up blank.
He just chuckled, turning back to his drink.
Are any strikes received during this contract covered in the benefits?
Might top a Frenchman.
Erryn
Define top.
Six feet under. Me standing on his grave. Top.
Also, what does la Madame Chair canon à la langue mortelle mean?
Erryn
Why am I only just finding out you have no French?
Hey! I have some French. And there are many things about me you don’t know yet. Remind me to tell you about my secret talent.
Erryn
Google Translate is on your phone, Helena.
The loudmouthed agent finished his drink, rapped his knuckles on the counter, and wiped his mustache.
“Boucher would have led this faction into disrepair and should have named her years ago,” he said, pausing as he passed me.
“We stay because we see where Artemis is taking things. Her rules are the only reason you are not biting that counter for the disrespect, and if your Chair thinks the faction will allow her replacement”—he shook his head—“non. Nous suivons Artemis.”
I tilted my head, pursing my lips as I nodded.
“Good to know,” I said, toying with my phone as he strode away.
Artemis has the faction’s support.
Erryn
Noted.
You are at risk of a mutiny if Artemis needs to be replaced. I can top her too if you like. I don’t like the way she looked at you yesterday.
Erryn
Neither definition will be required.
Are you sure?
I grinned when my last message went unanswered, then set the phone down and ordered a second drink. Agents came and went, and it was the perfect place to observe until Erryn was satisfied with her task.
But maybe a little more button pushing while I wait…
I’m getting a little bored down here. Maybe I should go to the bathroom and deal with the little issue you left me with this morning?
Those two little blue ticks flashed up almost immediately, then the three little dots to indicate she was typing a moment later.
Erryn
And what issue would that be, Helena?
Erryn
Use your words. I do not communicate in emoji.
How unfortunate. I’m quite partial to them.
Erryn
We can discuss this later.