Within seconds, a tangible tension descended between them, the rumble of Elliot’s motorcycle reverberating as it came to life the only sound.
After a beat, Julien shuffled closer to the fire. The glow from the flames caught his light hair, creating a halo of golden strands. He worried at a loose blue thread on the rug before gazing upwards at Cinn.
“Thank you for today.”
What to reply?No biggie, mate? Sure, anytime?
“We’ve been trying for months to reach her. Even resorted to some… unorthodox approaches. There’s a couple of obscure methods that are purported to temporarily grant you access to the shadowrealm. One of them, Mortalisfade, an elixir of sorts, involves near medical death. In a controlled manner. Both Elliot and I had a go at it… and it didn’t go well.”
Cinn found himself shaking his head slightly. The pure desperation of these three to contact Béatrice was so intense that it was quickly rubbing off on him. “Julien,” he said softly, reaching out to touch his knee. “She was so lucky to have you guys.”
Julien smiled sadly, sliding Béatrice’s locket off his neck and unlatching it to reveal a miniscule black-and-white photograph of a youngwoman, her arms thrown around two children. “This photograph miraculously survived the blast, even though the locket took a hit.”
“That your mum? She looks nice.”
“She was. She’s also”—Julien swallowed—“not with us any longer. But she was incredible.” Julien ran his finger over the photo. “Just me left now.”
“And your dad.”
The locket shut with a snap, and Julien’s leg stiffened, prompting Cinn to remove his hand.
Oops. A rapid change of conversation was needed. “Why are you so convinced Béatrice was murdered, anyway? Even before her connection to the Arcane Purifiers was confirmed yesterday?”
Julien turned to face the fire, mouth downcast. “We still don’t know that she was connected to them.”
It seemed pretty likely, but Cinn clamped his mouth shut.
“Although, she was acting very unlike herself the last couple of months before she died. She withdrew from all of us, and her other friends as well. Often she’d tell us she was going somewhere, or had been somewhere, and we’d catch her out in a lie. We thought she was in some sort of illicit relationship or something.” Julien’s lips quirked upward, the movement changing his entire face.
Slipping quietly into the room, Darcy returned with a tea tray. She placed it down on the coffee table, gave Julien a quick, sad smile, then left without a word to bang around in the kitchen.
“Elliot had the wildest theories about which mysterious lover she’d taken up. Anyway, things took a rapid turn about ten days before her death. There were giant black bags under her eyes, she was deathly pale, and Darcy heard crying coming from her room. I tried to talk to her about what was wrong, and she…s’est fermée comme une huître. Closed like an oyster. Or ‘bit my headoff’ if you like.”
There was something about this Julien, so honest and warm and open, that made Cinn want to keep him talking infinitely.
The lilt of his suave, sophisticated voice, that Cinn enjoyed the sound of.
The way his eyes sparkled when he smiled.
The subtle pull of his magnetic force, drawing in everyone around him.
Those damned dimples.
Cinn shuffled his body, stretching his leg out so his calf grazed Julien’s. The contact was completely accidental, of course.
“So she died in some sort of blast?” Although Cinn was reluctant to probe, the more he learned, the more he understood he needed the full picture.
“She went on this aid mission to the Philippines. Lots of Auri did. There’s a team made up of different departments that often sends out crisis-response crews. Our sister organisations from America and Asia do the same. I was so proud of Béatrice when she signed up for it.”
“Didn’t you want to do it with her?”
Julien laughed, touching the locket, back around his neck now. “My skills weren’t quite as necessary. She was always the better half of us,” he said quietly. “The Philippines mission was her first, after a lengthy training process.”
Images from watching the news in the break room at work emerged from the depths of Cinn’s memory. “I think I saw it on TV. The hurricane?”
“Yes. We sent over a few units of medical support and a division to help them rebuild infrastructure and key buildings quicker.”
Remembering their drinks, Cinn reached for the teapot and poured, relieved to see normal tea coming out rather than the weird stuff from the other day. He offered a cup to Julien, whose fingers lingered around his own for a fraction too long. Cinn shuffled his leg even closer, pressingit firmly against Julien’s own. It probably wasn’t the time—if ever—to be playing this game, but despite his better judgement, he couldn’t resist the warm comfort touching him offered.
