Chapter Eight: Silver

“Tout vas bien?” a voice asked from a distance.

Slowly, Mercy stirred, cool grass tickled her cheek as a stranger’s hand gently tapped her other cheek.

“Ma’am, are you alright?” he asked again in English.

Without warning, Mercy sprang forward and bumped her forehead against something hard. “Ow…” she cringed as a headache formed. Through tear-stung eyes, she noticed Chief Renée. He too massaged his throbbing forehead; the flashlight in his hand was on and waving into the cloudy night.

“Renée?” she spitefully asked as she stood up. “What are you doing here?”

Where is here? Mercy asked herself, forcing the headache to abate. Now that she had her bearings straight, she noticed that she was near the Eiffel Tower. No snow covered the monument; there was no wind, no chill air. Although it looked dark and looming, the crescent moon’s cold, pale light gently caressed the large metal structure through gaps in the clouds. 

Mercy had returned to Paris; to the real world.

“Ma’am.” The police chief asked.

“Why do you keep calling me Ma’am, Renée? You know me. I’m Mercy, Liam’s ex-wife?” She lashed out angrily, “Where are the others?”

“Others?” he asked after a moment of realizing whom he had been recently concerned about. Mercy was the known enemy. Mercy was in the heart of stopping the L’Ange Du Mal, and he, Renée, was letting her waltz around freely.

“The two women and little boy,” Mercy’s fear pulled the police chief from his trance. “Where are they?”

The chief, thinking that he could arrest her on charges of being drunk in public, stated, “There are no others. The civilian only found you.”

“No…” Mercy breathed, panic bubbled and made her heart rush. “That’s not possible… I st-” she stopped herself from saying anything more.

Too dark to see the area, Mercy grabbed Renée’s flashlight, ignoring her exhaustion, and ran around the perimeter, searching, hoping that Claire, Marie, and Peter would live again.

“Attendez…” She paused and collected her thoughts, “they were… Over here!”

She ran towards the Eiffel Tower, crossed Pl. Jacques Rueff and jumped the small gate as if nothing was in her path.

The tranquil pond in this grassy area rippled softly, even though there was no, searching for the source of the disturbance, Mercy, with great relief, found Claire, Marie, and Peter half buried under the water. Their rested features faced the sky. Mercy noticed that their hands were clasped with each other.

The three heaving chests told Mercy they were still alive, but for how long? Wading in the chilled water, she pulled them out one by one so they would not freeze.

Although she mistrusted him with every nerve in her body, Renée was the only one who could help her right now.

“Renée? I need you!”

“What is it-” his voice faded as he gazed, dumbfounded, upon the three unconscious people scattered as if they were thrown like trash. “Where did they come from?”

“It doesn’t matter.” Mercy brushed off his questioning harshly. “Do you have towels? Or a blanket?”

“Just a blanket. But…”

“It doesn’t matter!” Mercy determinedly declared, “Get the blanket, and hand me your mobile phone.”

Without questioning her further, even though he wanted to, he compiled. While it was against his better judgment, he wasn’t sure what abilities the La Volpe woman could do, especially if she was roused with such anger.

 

Waiting for Renée to leave the area, Mercy dialed a number she knew by heart. While he may be asleep as it was nearly one in the morning, she knew it was worth a try to call the only other person who would know what this situation meant.

“Charles.” An exhausted voice answered on the other end of the line.

“It’s Mercy.” She did not greet her grandfather, but only waited for his response.

There was a long, silent pause; Mercy had to look at the phone’s display to see if he had hung up on her.

“Mercy?” he finally questioned in disbelief, not entirely sure if it was her, or if he was dreaming. “You did it!” Now he sounded alert, happy even.

“Are you alright? Where are you? I can’t believe you did it!”

“I’m fine, please listen; I need your help, and the car, along with three sets of clothes. And towels. I need towels. Claire, Marie, and Peter are here with me, but they are unconscious. We need to get them to a hospital quickly.”

If there was a stranger request than this, Charles had never heard it. “Whose phone are you…”

“Charles!” Mercy cut him off with slight annoyance. What was it with everyone and questioning? Well, she really could not complain as her motives were not clear, and she preferred it that way; otherwise, there would be more investigation, and she already had the chief nearly breathing down her neck.

“Okay, okay.” Charles gave in. “Where are you?”

“I’m at the pond in front of the Eiffel Tower on Place Jacques Rueff. Hurry, please!”

Without saying a word, knowing that they would see each other soon, the line went dead. Hastily, Mercy deleted the number history from Renée’s cell. She would not take any chances with him.

She pocketed the mobile phone and again checked on the three. Under the little moonlight she did have, Mercy thought the three looked ghostly as if living in Snow drained them of all warmth.

“Here.” The chief knelt by Mercy and handed her the blanket, small as it was it would have to do.

Mercy gave him back his cell and used different parts of the fleece to pat-dry her unknown friends.

Not knowing what to do, Renée just held the flashlight so Mercy could see while she cared for the strange people.

It was peculiar how motherly she acted. He never actually met Mercy, but from what Liam told him when they were still together, she was a fiery, passionate woman who has the quick-wittedness of a fox but had the heart of a wolf.

 

Twenty minutes later, both Liam and Charles parked in front of the pond and rushed out. Bundles of clothes and towels were in their hands.

“Mercy! Are you alright?” Liam fell to his knees and handed the clothing to her.

While she was glad he agreed to help, Mercy still hated him and the fact that it was he who saved her from the tempting demon’s contract.

“I’m fine.” She snapped, “Charles, can you revive them?”

The elderly man studied Claire, Peter, and Marie closely. After a few minute, he looked up to his worried granddaughter.

“Mercy, they will be alright, but they will need to go to the hospital.”

“So, they will wake?” Mercy wrung her hands nervously and knelt beside him and Claire. “F-” she faltered with a quick glance to Liam and Renée, “We promised De Lille that we would return his wife. I was hoping it could be when she was awake.”

“Mercy,” Liam studied her, “What happened to you?”

“Nothing,” she fibbed easily. “Why do you ask?”

“Because your shirt and clothes are stained with something… silver?”

Everyone stared at her; she felt as if she was nude in a public place. Afraid of what she might see, Mercy looked down on herself and recognized Shade’s pale grey blood on her shirt, and jeans.

“I spilled paint everywhere. Big mess.” She would not meet anyone’s eye as she lied through her deceitful lips. “Look, Renée, Liam, you can go home. Thank you for your help. Charles and I will take care of them.” She motioned to the trio.

Both men protested at once.

“This is now a police matter; I must stay!” Renée said proudly.

“Mercy, I can help you, please, just let me help!”

“No!” Mercy refused, she felt like a mother, forbidding her children to do something dangerous. “You both have done your part; now it’s time for Charles and me to do ours. Please, there’s nothing more you can do for them.”

Against their better judgment, the two men stepped into Renée’s cruiser and left.

 

Once the car drove out of sight, Mercy sighed deeply, “Well, that’s two problems taken care of, especially the L'ange du Mal’s dog.”

Charles chuckled, “Who? The cop or the cop?” 

Despite her current situation, Mercy cracked a long forgotten smile.

With a grin, Charles turned away so Mercy could change the three into dry clothes. “So, what happened?” he asked conversationally. Mercy knew her grandfather was more than happy that his granddaughter survived the curse.

“I met Shade, or, at least, a part of him.”

“Slimy little merde, isn’t he?”

“Worse.” Mercy smiled as she finished dressing Peter, “I can now see why you prefer taking care of the curses. But…” she reflected on the thought of her wielding the blade. Exhilaration filled her senses as she remembered the shriek from the curse as he was being expelled by her hand.

Her fingers trembled as the voice of the shade reawakened her passionate heart.

“Well,” Charles attempted to pull her thoughts, “Now I know I can retire knowing that my unfinished work will be left in capable hands.”

“What?” Mercy looked at him as never before, “Grandfather, I can’t do this without you. Yes, I can take care of the curses, but how can I find them?”

The two gently placed their burdens in the back seat of the car and drove to the closest hospital.

“Charles,” Mercy started again after she drove on one road, then the next, “Please, help Fox and me to find the last five.”

The aged man sighed, “Okay, but after I finish with the final curse of this age, I am retiring. Mercy, I am getting too old to chase after the evil ones anymore. You and Fox must take my place.”

Nothing more could be said on the subject; at least, not now.

Mercy drove up to the hospital, stepped out and ran through the automatic sliding doors.

Less than a moment later, several night shift nurses ran out with three gurneys.

“Do you know their names?” one nurse asked Mercy.

“The youngest is Peter Couret, the brown haired woman is Marie Paiva, and the last is Claire De Lille.”

The nurse thanked her with distraction as she studied the patients. “They are only unconscious; though, they should make a full recovery.” She erected herself and smiled at Mercy.

“I hope so…” Mercy whispered. She suddenly turned to an assistant, “Can I use your phone?”

The assistant nodded and handed her mobile phone to Mercy; the woman looked at her grandfather who had already stepped out of the car as Mercy dialed an unknown number.

“Are you going to call…” he started.

“Cyril, he asked…” Mercy looked around to the retreating nurses, “her to let him know if we found his wife.”

Before he could say any more, Mercy spoke into the receiver, “Cyril De Lille? Hi, my name is Mercy, I’m a friend of,” she whispered, La Voleur de Renard, “I wanted to let you know that your wife, Claire… No! Claire is safe. We are at Necker Hospital on Rue de Sèvres. She is only unconscious… Yes, she would love that. Au revoir.”

She hung up and spoke to Charles, “He’s on his way.”

“Okay, I will head back to the Library, there will be work, especially returning the painting. And I’ll work on the next curse. Do you want to join me?”

“No thanks; grandpère,” the woman shook her head, “I’ll wait for Cyril, and I could do with a walk.