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Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
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Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
 
 
 

April Witch - REVIEW THIS STORY

Written by Stella
Last updated: 01/02/2007 02:01:11 AM

Chapter 7

Henri had shaved his head since I’d been gone. On a normal twenty year-old de look would have been edgy and strange, somet’ing like Billy Corgan. Since I knew Henri, knew what he was like, reminded me more of someone’s bald nonc (uncle). Had t’ bite my tongue t’ keep from telling him dat of course.

I liked Mercy right away. She was a beautiful girl wit’ heavy strawberry blonde hair an’ blue eyes dat always seemed t’ be eager t’ see new t’ings. Henri assured me dat she was a fine t’ief in her own right.

“Fact is, I’m t’inking of sponsoring her for Guild membership,” he told me. We were sitting in de living room after dinner. Jean-Luc was off on some mysterious business, probably related t’ de Antiquary. I shuddered t’ t’ink of de man and so it was like Henri knew what I was t’inkin’ an’ changed de subject.

“Ah shure do appreciate it, darlin’,” Mercy said putting on an exaggerated southern accent. She leapt nimbly over de back of de couch and settled herself into Henri’s side. Jean-Luc was letting her stay at de house, in a separate room of course. Vraisemblablement (most likely) I’d hear de quiet footsteps along de floorboards dat night. Henri was de dutiful son, but he was no saint.

“Henri’s de best,” I told her in all honesty. “He sponsored me. What’s de expression? Tough but fair.”

“Not too tough, I hope,” Mercy laughed. She poked Henri gently in de ribs and I felt a stab o’ regret dat a certain pair of gray eyes were so far away from me right den. Mercy must have been studying my face carefully, because den she asked, “What’s dis Emil tells me about a girl, Remy?”

Henri unwound Mercy’s hair from his fingers and sat up straighter. “Never heard about dis.”

Dey were both leaning forward, looking at me, and coo-yon (foolish) man dat I am, I could feel my face getting hot.

“Never seen him like dis,” Henri told Mercy. “Y’d t’ink he never had a girlfriend before. What’s her name, Remy?”

“Rogue.”

Mercy and Henri looked at each other. “Biker or rock star?” Henri asked.

“Professional wrestler?” Mercy suggested.

I rolled my eyes and sighed. “I don’t see why I bother wit’ you.” Looked sharply at Mercy. “Either of you.” Dey knew I wasn’t being serious.

Dey laughed. “What’s she like?” Mercy asked.

It’s such a deceptively simple question, but de thoughts o’ Rogue filled my head too fast t’ sort. What she was like was a smell and a texture, a reluctant smile half-seen, de hard bite of a new apple.

All I could do was shrug an’ say, “She’s not like anyone else.”

In Jean-Luc’s house dere’s never much time for regret. Etienne came racing into de room on his rollerblades. Emil was hot on his heels, yelling for him t’ stop, laughing at de same time. Etienne jumped onto de coffee table, scattering magazines everywhere. Reflexively, I reached out and grabbed Etienne around de waist, pulling him onto de couch wit’ me.

“Why you so gumbo ya-ya (loud and boisterous)?” I asked him.

Emil skidded to a stop an’ dropped t’ de other side of me, breathing hard. “‘m gettin’ too old for dis,” he panted.

I looked at him out of de corner of my eye. “Get no arguments from me, podna (dude).”

Emil smacked me lightly across de back of my head. “Enculé (bastard),” he said wit’out malice. “Etienne’s just restless is all. Kids!”

“I’m no kid!” Etienne put in indignantly.

“You’ll always be a peeshwank (runt) t’ me.” Emil grinned, showing all his teeth.

“Dat’s right, tomorrow’s de big day,” Mercy cut in, wit’ a warning look t’ Emil. “You know what de’re going t’ ask you t’ do?”

Etienne shook his head. His blonde hair was longish and it fell into his eyes. Distracted, he brushed it away. “Dey never tell you ‘till right before,” he explained seriously. Mercy looked like she wanted t’ laugh at his grave face, but like Mattie she knew better den t’ find humor in someone else’s passion.

“You on duty tonight, Emil?” she asked him.

Emil rubbed de back of his neck. “Yeah. Makes me kinda crazy t’ sit here.”

“Y’ got t’ punch de time clock just like de rest of us,” Henri cut in.

“I know dat, Henri, but dat doesn’t mean I have t’ like it.”

It was den dat it happened. Everyt’ing seemed t’ get real clear. I could see all of dem sitting dere, talking ‘bout not’ing. De words surrounded me until I felt warm. Was filled wit’ de relief of being home. Dis was de place where I could be understood. Sitting dere wit’ all de family, any problems I’d had or was likely t’ have seemed insubstantial as a dream.

But in a dream, de living room window doesn’t shatter. No explosives go off in de living room. De living room wall doesn’t collapse in a roar.

 

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