All That Lives Must Die - Eric Nylund [302]
Louis picked up the token in both hands, brought it to his chest, inhaled, and savored it for a moment . . . and then presented it back to Audrey.
“For you,” he told her. “It was always yours to do with as you wished: to treasure and keep safe—or to tear into a million pieces again. I have no defenses against you.”
She hesitated, actually reached out and touched it—then halted. “No,” she whispered. “I am not ready. Perhaps one day, Louis, but not now.”
Louis frowned and it made his nose and jaw seem more crooked. “Of course, my dear. What else do we have, if not all the time in the world?”
Amberflaxus batting at her hand, interested in the heart.
“No,” she told the cat. “This is not a toy.”
Louis snorted. “Watch that wretched animal,” he warned her. “Of all the creatures in all the worlds, that one would most love to get a piece of me to devour.”
He retrieved his paper heart and tucked it into his tuxedo.
Audrey stroked that cat’s back to mollify it (and grateful for the distraction). “No one has noticed your pet, and your lack of . . . ?”
“I have been lucky,” Louis told her.
Audrey scrutinized Louis and the space about him that flickered in candlelight. The deviation from normality was subtle at night, and yet, when one knew what to look for . . . it was glaringly obvious.
Louis cast no shadow.72, 73
That was Audrey’s fault. When she had first learned that Louis was Infernal, she had flown into a blind rage—stabbed at him, meaning to sever his power from his physical form, and then cut his heart out so he could love no other.
All of which she managed, but her first strike had astonishingly missed, and instead cut off his shadow.
And like all parts of the Grand Deceiver, it was wily and evasive, and had run from her, finally taking the form of a cat.
A shadow cat that had grown to enjoy its freedom.
She scratched under Amberflaxus’s chin. The cat purred. It was still a part of him, yet somehow, a creature all its own: an annoyance, his spy, a mischievous imp that was Louis incarnate.
Louis scattered a handful of euros on the table to pay for her coffee. “Come,” he said, “and leave that creature or he will tear your gown.”
“Are you taking me to the opera? I’ve heard Ferruccio Busoni’s Doktor Faust is playing tonight.”
Louis’s face curled with disgust. “Surely you jest.”
Her lips formed a rare half smile. “I do. No, I thought we would walk and talk. It has been so long, Louis. And there is so much to consider.”
He smiled back. “Just talk?”
“Yes, for now. But it is a start between us.”
Louis considered for a long time, his expression uncharacteristically solemn, and then finally nodded. “A start then.” He offered her his hand.
Audrey didn’t trust Louis, the Prince of All Lies; she never would, either. But they had a common interest: the welfare of their children. And, counter to all her common sense, part of her still adored Louis. Or was this merely the memory of a younger love that she still felt?
The old passion was gone; they could not go back to it . . . but she was willing to moving forward with Louis, as what? Friends, enemies, allies, or lovers once more?
She wasn’t sure. But she was sure that she wanted to find out.
Audrey took Louis’s hand, and together they strolled into the darkness.
“Tell me, then,” she whispered to him, “everything.”
72. On the Nature of Shadows in Identification: Unattended shadows are thought by some cultures to be ghosts unable to end their existence in the Middle Realms. The Zulu tribe holds that a dead body cannot cast a shadow. An alternative view is that shadows are a representation of God’s presence around an object (cf. a halo). Early European beliefs claim that a man without a shadow was a witch or had sold his soul to the Devil. These legends remain hypothetical; however, it is a fact that vampires cast no shadow as do all similar limbic undead species. A Modern Hunters Guide to the Unliving, Valor Mitchellson & Nikola Telsa, Double Fork Lightning Press, 1890, London.