33. Julien
thirty-three
Julien
R ubbing a hand across tired eyes, Julien repositioned himself on the armchair, battling another round of pins and needles from sitting on his legs for too long. Between his sore muscles and the head injury that needed stitches, he could easily be a hundred years old.
Next to him, Cinn’s body lay on the hospital bed as still as it had been the day he’d been brought in, almost a week ago now. Heart-monitor wires criss-crossed his body, and a nasogastric tube slivered serpent-like out of his nose.
Sighing, Julien reached for Cinn’s hand and squeezed, his gaze drifting, as it often did, to the inflamed burn-like mark adorning Cinn’s neck like a choker, the aftermath of the umbraphage’s direct touch.
Elliot and two other gendarmes had come to their aid as quickly as possible, once they’d seen Cinn suspended in the air, but not before the umbraphage had wrapped a black tendril around his neck. Although the gendarmes managed to manipulate lumenmotes quickly enough to save Cinn’s life, he’d fallen to the ground, unconscious.
Julien knew all of this from secondhand information, of course. He’d missed it all, knocked out by something undetermined in the chaos and rendered useless while his best friends were in danger.
The umbraphages were eventually banished thanks to the amount of extra support pouring in from various other moteblessed hubs throughout the world, travelling to Auri as quickly as the Displacement Baths would let them .
That’s not to say there wasn’t a fair number of casualties, however. Forty at least from Auri, so Julien had heard, plus more from their backup support.
Then there was the long list of seriously injured, so lengthy that if they were attacked again today, there wouldn’t be nearly enough gendarmerie.
Rain battered the window of Cinn’s small private room within Auri’s hospital. It had practically become a greenhouse with the amount of flowers Darcy kept bringing. He’d had several visitors, including Eric yesterday, who’d dropped a box of chocolates around for ‘when Cinn woke up’. Elliot immediately started munching away at them in the corner of the room while Julien issued a short apology to Eric for his rudeness towards him in the café, followed by one for how he’d handled it when they’d ended things earlier that year. Eric had shrugged, admitting he shouldered some of the blame for their miscommunication on the terms of their casual arrangement.
“I can see it’s completely different with him though,” Eric said, voice soft, glancing at Cinn’s lifeless form.
“Too bad I fucked it up,” Julien whispered. “I broke his trust.” Ripped it to shreds and then stamped all over it. Permanent damage.
Eric had given him a sad smile. “I think you two will find a way through it. It was clear how upset he was, how much he missed you guys, even though he refused to talk about you.”
They’d had no visitors today—though Darcy was due any minute—but Julien had preferred it. He’d made friends with a nurse, a kindly older lady who now routinely brought him apple juice, and that was serving as enough social interaction for him.
Even though it was only seven p.m., Julien’s eyes drifted shut, and he resigned himself to another night sleeping in the armchair.
His eyes snapped open at a knock at the door, followed by a head poking around it .
Albert Noir. He slid into the room to hover a good few metres from Cinn, nodding once at Julien. He’d not seen Noir since the third day, when he’d briefly popped in, then left again. As always, he was dressed in his dark robe-like coat that, along with his grey beard, always left Julien with the impression of a stereotypical wizard. He was yet to magically cure Cinn.
“I thought that it was Eleanor coming today,” Julien said, jumping up and stretching his aching limbs. “She promised me she’d stop by.”
“She’s otherwise detained. Another umbraphage outbreak. Florida, following on the heels of a hurricane. Lots of our gendarmerie have already been sent.”
A flash of worry for Elliot shot through Julien, before the knowledge that he’d been signed off due to his injuries soothed it smooth.
“How many this time?”
“Three.”
“So Auri still holds the record, then?” There’d been five in total that night, in the end.
“For now.” Noir moved closer to Cinn’s bedside to snatch up his charts, then began flicking through them. “What’s with the music?” he asked, one grey bushy eyebrow raised at the headphones over Cinn’s ears, plugged into his Walkman on the bedside table. The faintest sound leaked out of the headphones, a pulsating rhythm. “I doubt he can hear it.”
“It’s his favourite tape,” snapped Julien. He was rather proud of his idea of using Cinn’s songs to attempt to lure him back into his body. “He plays it all the time.”
Noir picked up the cassette tape case— Doolittle by the Pixies. Well worn, the plastic surface bore countless scratches. The intriguing artwork featured a bizarre monkey with a halo floating on his head, sitting on a concrete step .
Giving Julien a look you’d give to a child you were humouring, Noir said, “I don’t doubt. Any sign of movement yet?”
“Absolutely none.” Julien had never seen a human body so still; he often hovered his ear above Cinn’s mouth to see if he was actually breathing, even though his heart-rate monitor reassured him he was still alive. He spent most of his time in Cinn’s room, closely scrutinising him for the twitches they’d seen the two times they’d watched him shadowslip, to no avail. This time was different. Julien knew it in every bone in his body.
Noir made a humming noise.
Through gritted teeth, Julien said, “He’s been like this for five days now. There must be something else we can try. I know that records of shadowslippers are limited, but there must be some helpful information out there!”
“Yes. There is some relevant information.” Noir’s solemn, lined face crinkled. “This is how a lot of them end, I’m afraid.”
“What?”
“How shadowslippers die,” Noir said, so matter-of-factly Julien’s hand itched to punch him. “A large majority of recorded cases end with their body entering this stasis.” Noir waved his hand toward Cinn’s body.“This coma-like state, with their consciousness remaining stuck in the shadowrealm. Often, their bodies eventually give up. One shadowslipper, after extensive electric-shock treatment, opened their eyes again, but had lost most of their brain function.”
Julien blinked at Noir as shock gripped him. Then he let his mouth gape open as icy fury shot through his veins. “ Excusez-moi? Your plan is to wait for him to become a vegetable?”
Sighing, Noir removed a pipe and tin from his pocket, made to light it. Julien scowled it right back into his pocket again.
“I’m only preparing you for the worst-case scenario. ”
“Well, if you’ve got nothing actually helpful to offer, you may as well leave,” Julien spat, throwing himself back down in the bedside armchair, pointedly staring at Cinn.
As Noir moved towards the door, it swung open. Darcy had finally arrived.
Once she’d clicked the door shut behind Noir, Julien snapped, “You’re late.” Then, after a wash of guilt, mumbled, “Sorry.”
Darcy ignored it, just like she’d done every other time Julien had let his stress colour his tone. “I had to pop home for some bits. I’ve brought you dinner.” She threw him something sandwich-shaped, wrapped in tinfoil.
Julien forced himself to smile at her. “Thanks. Still no sign of our cat?”
“Nope.”
They hadn’t seen the ‘cat’ again since its brief appearance at the attack. Although Julien was starting to think he may have imagined it, the result of adrenaline and heartbreak.
Darcy dropped her voice low and soft. “You know Elliot is right about it likely not being Béatrice, right?”
“Oui,” he snapped. “Of course.” A lie—as soon as his sister’s name had come out of Cinn’s mouth, his brain latched on to the idea, dug its claws in deep. After months of grief, worry and wondering about her death, he’d take demon-cat Béatrice over no Béatrice at all.
Hopefully she didn’t bite.
“In other news, Noir just told me that Cinn will likely waste away and die,” Julien announced, in a monotonous voice that he’d curated to not show any of the turbulent emotion threatening to spill out of him at the news.
Darcy’s lips pursed together in a thin line, seeming unsurprised. “So our limited literature maintains. He discussed this with me here the other day, when you and Elliot went to grab coffee. I did tell him not to share that information with you, though. ”
“What? Why?”
“Because you’re already an absolute mess,” she snapped. “And it didn’t seem very helpful.”
“Actually, it’s very helpful.”
Darcy stilled.
“It’s very helpful, because it’s solidified our next plan of action.”
Their gazes collided, and so began their silent battle of wills. Julien unflinchingly stared into Darcy’s dismayed eyes—for she knew what was about to come out of his mouth.
“I’m going to try to shadowslip again. To try to find him. Save him.”
“No,” Darcy said. “Absolutely not. Not after last time. I thought I’d lost you.”
He’d known she’d say that—his next words slid off Julien’s tongue. “I’m doing it, Darce, with or without you.”
“Good luck getting hold of the Mortalisfade elixir without me.”
“I didn’t need luck. I only needed the key to your basement, which was hanging on your kitchen wall.”
Darcy’s jaw hit the floor. “You didn’t,” she whispered, horror-struck. Then, far louder: “Julien, what is this madness? What exactly do you think you’re going to achieve? Apart from risking your life?”
“Hear me out.” Julien paced the limited floor space of the small room. “For one, we do it here, in the hospital this time. Then, if anything does go wrong, help will be on hand, oui ?”
“Great. I can’t wait to explain to the doctors that you’re seizing and frothing at the mouth as a product of your own stupidity.” She had that stubborn pout on her face now, arms crossed like an angry schoolteacher.
“Next, we have a far better chance of success this time, because we have the ultimate magnet item. ”
“We… do?” Darcy’s nose wrinkled, and Julien raised his eyebrows, then gave one smug nod toward Cinn’s unconscious body. “You’re joking. You want to use a live human as a magnet item? Is that even a thing?”
“Well, we’re about to find out.”
Darcy shook her head. “There’s no way Elliot will agree to this.”
“He already did. Yesterday morning. In your basement.”
“Wha—?” Shaking her head even more violently, she continued, “No, Julien. No, no, and no! You’re not doing this!”
Closing the space between them, Julien gently grasped both of her arms. “I have to, Darce,” he whispered. Darcy closed her eyes, and he brought her slight frame to his chest. “I couldn’t save them. Mère . Béatrice.”
“Jul—”
“Shh. I’ve heard it all from you before. I know you mean well, ma chérie . But your kind words will do nothing to change how I feel.”
For a moment, Julien was back there , the place where his mère died, with the church collapsing around them because of his failure to control his channelling. His legs were heavy with the weight of his mother’s head on his lap as he screamed and sobbed. Then, Béatrice reached him, dragging one leg limp behind her, her face covered in dust, wearing that expression he would only ever interpret as, what have you done ?
“I would do exactly the same for you or Elliot,” he said into Darcy’s hair.
She pulled back to burn her fierce gaze into Julien’s. “Of course you would,” she said. “That doesn’t make it a good idea.”
“Please help me,” Julien begged, taking both of her cheeks in his palms. “Help me try once, and if it doesn’t work, I won’t ask again.”
He’d won—Darcy’s eyes melted into green puddles. “Fine,” she relented. “But I’m in charge.”
Julien kissed her forehead. “When are you ever not? ”
Breaking apart, they simultaneously turned to study Cinn, the steady beep of his heart monitor the only sound—his Walkman had finished the cassette.
“We’re coming for you,” Julien said, watching the subtle shift of the blankets as they rose and fell with Cinn’s shallow breathing. “We’re coming for you.”