Author's Notes: Okay … so that was nearly three weeks. My apologies … normally, I return from DragonCon with my mind buzzing with ideas. I had an absolutely wonderful time … don't get me wrong. There were around seventy-five thousand people there that weekend, and I got to meet Ryan Gage (who is awesome) … but my brain was too crammed full of everything I saw and experienced to have room for ideas. Also, I originally planned to have the big confrontation between Anne and Milady in this chapter, but both Anne and Justinian threw me curveballs (again. As usual. Oy, oy, oy) I was reminded that as the grandson of Derek Rayne, the odds were good that Justinian inherited his grandfather's clairvoyance. Things followed from there. As things stand now, there are two chapters remaining, followed by an epilogue. I've already got the prologue of 'And Call it By That Name' written. That will be the final story in the 'One for All and All Forever' series. So. In this chapter, Justinian Sees far more than any seven year old should ever have to; Milady attacks the current set of Musketeers; and two unlikely heroes emerge. Oh, and the oft-requested whump for Athos is in this chapter.
Review responses:
A reader: Had a superlative time, already planning next year (but first, there's Fayetteville Comic Con, which is only forty-five minutes from me). Our second year, and hoping to blow last year out of the water. We had nearly eighty-five hundred during the con's one day last year.
Chapter Seven
The Rayne Family Legacy
San Antonio, TX
Basement of Gennesaret
April 2015
He went to Papa Treville willingly, even though he knew he was being sent out of the room because Mama Anne and Daddy didn't want him to hear what they were talking about. Grown-ups did that for some reason, even though he usually ended up finding out anyhow. His great-grandfather (Mama Anne's grandpa) told him they weren't ready for him to know about Milady or even about his grandpa. Or that Justinian could see ghosts, for that matter. 'It isn't that they think you foolish, little one,' his great-grandpa said when he first appeared to Justinian, not long after Mommy died and he first came to live with Mama Anne, Daddy, and his aunts and uncles, 'but where my father failed to protect me and I failed to protect my children, your parents are determined to protect you as much as they can.' Justinian hadn't understood, until he had the first of the nightmares. He called them 'nightmares.' His great-grandfather called it the Sight, adding a bit sadly, 'the legacy of the Rayne family lives on in you, little one.' Whatever it was, Justinian didn't want to see it, but it was there.
Still, he sat in the storage room, even after various adults checked on him over the next few hours. He sat in the storage room, because it was better than crying in front of everyone like a baby. It was okay for Sabine to cry … but Justinian was a big boy, and it was his 'sponsibility to take care of her. His great-grandpa acknowledged that was true, before pointing out that his daddy and uncles cried sometimes, and so did Papa Treville. Justinian demanded to know if they ever cried because they were scared, and Great-grandpa admitted he wasn't sure … except for the times when Daddy cried after Aunt Josie had to leave. He was eleven when his mom made Aunt Josie leave, not much older than Justinian was now … and if Justinian thought he wasn't scared then, Great-grandpa said, he was wrong.
Next, Justinian wanted to know why Great-grandpa was here. He was silent for a long time, and Justinian was afraid he wouldn't answer at all. Mommy did that sometimes, too. Not because she was angry, but because she was sad. At last, his great-grandpa said softly, 'because too many times, I chose myself and my desires over what was best for my children. I was a very bad father, Justinian … and your grandfather, my son, never had a chance to be a father to your mother. I … I didn't protect my son properly, so now I'm protecting you.'
That made sense, mostly. Justinian asked, though, just to be sure ('cause he was learning from Aunt Josie about being met-tick-u-lus), if that meant he was protecting Justinian 'cause he didn't do such a good job of protecting his own little boy. His great-grandpa nodded with a tiny smile and said that was exactly right. Justinian next asked what he could do to make the bad dreams go away. That was when he learned that the bad dreams would never go away … that he would live with them for the rest of his life. The Rayne family legacy, he said again.
That … seemed like forever. And he really didn't like the sound of this legacy. Even now, he was shivering, remembering the image of his mother on her knees, reaching out desperately to another lady, one with long brown hair and blue eyes … blue eyes that were normally kind and filled with laughter. Justinian didn't know how he knew this … the knowledge was just there. Just like he knew the best thing to do when Uncle Rami was feeling sad was to ask him about Miss Ana, or that sometimes, Uncle Porthos needed hugs to make him feel better. He just knew.
And then there was the other lady in his bad dreams … the lady who looked like Mama Anne, but scarier. Scarier than even when Mama Anne thought someone might hurt Daddy or Sabine or Aunt Josie or Justinian. But not just scary, but she looked mean, too. And it was really strange, because Justinian saw her inside the other lady. He wasn't entirely sure what that meant, but he had a feeling it was nothing good. And more than once, his great-grandpa urged him to tell his parents what he saw, but so far, Justinian was standing firm about not saying anything. He was a big boy, not a baby!
He probably would have kept to that vow, even though Aunt Josie went back with the other grown-ups after checking on him … except the worst bad dream he ever hit, and it was even worse than normal, because he was awake. One moment, Justinian was steadfastly counting out the supplies Papa Treville pointed out to him … and the next, he was back in that strange house as his mother reached out to the pretty lady. But this time, he saw something else. Something that Mama Anne saw, and something that made her cry: his daddy, chained to something with blood soaking his clothes. And he was on fire. Justinian cried out, his small body overwhelmed with the sensations and images. He never heard himself cry out. Never heard the pounding of feet or the door flying open. Never felt himself being scooped up into protective arms.
Justinian was lost in his nightmare, the final move in a game being played by a desperate, malicious spirit. One who already lost to his mother once, and refused to give up … one who failed to heed the warning his mother gave her so many months earlier: leave my child alone. That failure was to cost her dearly indeed.
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She needed to stop, to take a break before she started this final part of her story. Not just because her voice needed a rest (although it did … she wasn't used to talking this much), but because of the horror of that night. There was a part of her, too, that feared the people with her wouldn't believe what she had to say. Not because they distrusted her (not at any more at least), but because it was so unbelievable. She lived through it and she still had a hard time believing that it really happened. How could she expect these people to believe it?
Sensing something was amiss, Josie pressed a bottle of water into her hand and Anne smiled at her gratefully. She studied her sister-in-law's face, wondering how she would take finding out about the Legacy (as she now knew it was called). Would she believe Anne? Or would she take it on faith, because she trusted Anne? Then again, Josie bore witness to some strange things during the course of her journey from her parents' home, all those years ago. Next, she looked at Athos, who was staring back at her with pained eyes. Anne longed to wipe that pain away and replace with one of his smiles. Any of them would do, really.
As she took a swig of the water, Anne thought about how to continue. Should she tell them about how she was on the second floor of the library when Kat, possessed by Anne's own ancestress, returned to the House? Or should she reveal the greatest secret she had, the one she learned just before she left San Francisco to come to San Antonio? Anne looked at the faces of her family … at Josie, newly returned from checking on Justinian, and Athos; at Treville and Aramis; at Porthos and Justinian; at Constance, soon to be a mother, and her overprotective husband d'Artagnan. And then she looked at Philip, whose name she was given when she left San Antonio … first by Nick Boyle, and then by a man who was supposed to be dead. No. No, that was one secret she had to keep for a little while, along with that man's identity. That wasn't her secret to reveal. She was on the verge of continuing her story, starting from when she was in the library, when a sound erupted from the storage room where Justinian remained … where Justinian was sent to protect him from hearing about San Francisco.
It took her a moment to recognize the sound, because Justinian never screamed. He cried, he pouted, he stomped his feet on occasion, but he never, ever screamed. But he was screaming now, and it would take Anne weeks to forgive herself for reacting so slowly. It was actually Athos who recognized their son's cries and bolted for the storage room … no doubt fearing, as she did, that he hurt himself. But it was far worse than that. As Anne and Athos raced into the storage room, they were confronted with the sight of their little boy sitting on the floor, screaming and crying. That was bad enough … but the specter hovering over him made Anne's blood run cold, a specter she recognized immediately. Not again. Never again!
But it was Josie, her dear friend and sister Josie, who decided to channel her inner Ripley and growled (actually growled), "Get away from my nephew, you bitch!" The malevolent specter turned her attention to her sister-in-law … and that gave Athos the chance he needed. Or would have, if they hadn't been facing off with a spirit. Even as Athos surged forward to reach their son, the specter flicked her hand and Athos flew backward, crashing into the wall. Anne, for once, was frozen. Fortunately, there was someone else wasn't … someone who used the distraction of Athos' flight to his advantage.
Philip Callaghan darted around Aramis and Josie, chanting in Latin all the time. And the specter could only snarl at him threateningly … but could not move. Could not threaten him, and her frustration with that was quite obvious. Philip paid her no mind, however, as he scooped Justinian into his arms and backed away, transferring Justinian into Tristan's arms as soon as he reached the door. With Justinian and Tristan both safely tucked behind the priest, Anne turned her full attention to the entity which she now knew to be her ancestress, snarling in French, "I beat you once, Grandmother … what makes you think I won't beat you again?"
Athos groaned softly and started to push himself to his feet …but no. He wasn't pushing himself to his feet at all … instead, he was being lifted into the air. Anne watched in horror as he rose up several feet from the ground, his head nearly reaching the ceiling. His feet dangled in mid-air and his hands went to his throat, clawing at it as if he was being strangled. At her side, Anne heard Josie choking back a gasp of her own as she watched her brother fight for his life. Her ancestress answered coolly, also in French, "Because, child, the last time I made the mistake of using mirages to influence you. I do not make the same mistakes twice."
"No, you just make all new ones," Philip retorted. Her ancestress hissed at him, but Philip didn't back down, demanding, "Release him … or be prepared for the consequences. I will fight you with every weapon I have for the life of this man, and everyone in this room." There was a cold steel in his voice that seemed at odds with the gentle priest she'd come to know. Anne looked from her ancestress to her husband to the priest and then back to Athos, who was slowly turning purple … which definitely wasn't his color. Anne knew her husband was running out of time.
"You aren't strong enough, little priest! I see what still haunts you, even now. Shall I bring forth the blonde bitch or the raven-haired whore? Perhaps both?" her ancestress taunted. Anne risked a look at Philip, whose blue-gray eyes narrowed. Not the reaction Milady was looking for, as she next tried, "Or perhaps all the people you've failed? There are so many of those, are there not? Including my own child, father to Anne? You weren't there when he blew up the House, when he needed you most."
Now there was pain in Philip's eyes, but he stayed firm, retorting, "I was where I needed t' be. Derek made his own decisions, an' he would have done th' exact same thing if I'd been there. Shall we talk about failures, then? Very well … ye brought up mine, now I will bring up yours. Chief among them was yer son. Ye failed him badly, Milady. Or should I call ye 'Charlotte Backson' or one of yer myriad of aliases. Ye have so many of them, after all." She bared her teeth at him, but Philip still refused to back down, continuing, "And if ye don't want t' talk about John, that's fine wi' me. Let's talk about yer first husband … th' original Athos. Th' one ye tricked int' thinkin' that ye loved?"
"I did love him! But he turned on me, as easily as that one," she shrieked, gesturing to Athos wildly, "turned on my granddaughter!" For a moment, Anne's old anger and resentment surged up in her soul once more. But fingers curling around her own drew her attention to her right hand side, where her friend stood … where her sister stood. Josie caught her eye and shook her head very slowly. Don't listen to her. Anne thought once more about the way she and Athos met, remembered the nightmare her husband had the night before everything fell apart so spectacularly, and squeezed her sister's hand in turn. I won't.
As if hearing the silent communication between the two de la Fere women, Philip spoke up again, saying, "Ye lied t' him, time after time after time. How could he believe a word ye said? I'm findin' it hard t' believe that someone like Derek Rayne came from yer bloodline. Whatever my differences wi' Derek were, one thin' I could never claim about him, an' wouldn't dream of it, was irresponsible. He always took responsibility for what he did … not somethin' ye could say. It was always someone else's fault. Let him go. Or for every shadow of m' past ye bring forth, I'll bring one of yers. And I'll start wi' his ancestor, the original Athos. He's here, too. Can ye feel his presence? He hasn't gotten involved, not yet, but he wants t.' Th' only thin' holdin' him back is me."
Anne exchanged a startled glance with her sister-in-law. Was the priest telling the truth? They found out the answer to that a second later. Milady snarled and a slim, blonde girl appeared at her side. She reached out to Philip beseechingly. Ooookay. Well, that qualified as calling Philip's bluff. Anne risked another look at the priest and his eyes had gone slate gray. He breathed, "So be it. Olivier d'Athos, Comte de la Fere … come forth." No sooner were the words out of his mouth than a shadowy figure appeared … and Anne's own husband collapsed to the ground. Aramis was at his side immediately, kneeling beside Athos and helping him to sit up. Although, it was more like supporting him, as Athos was barely conscious. Anne wanted to run to his side, wanted to run away … but it was time to end this.
Milady was staring at her estranged husband with a combination of love and hatred, rage and guilt, horror and hope. Odd, how those emotions were the exact same ones Anne felt for so long toward her own husband. What drove them away … the darker emotions? She could only shake her head, because right now, it really wasn't about her. It was about this other twisted, tragic love story. Because when all was said and done, she finally believed that her ancestress did love her first husband, as much as she was capable of loving anyone. She also believed that John de Winter was right when he said that his mother enjoyed hurting other people.
And the Comte de la Fere ignored her for the moment, choosing instead to focus on his descendents at the moment: at his namesake, listing against Aramis as he wheezed through his badly bruised throat, and at Josie. He smiled softly, murmuring in French, "My dearest children. Parted for so long and now back together. I am so proud of you both. More than words can say, I am so very proud of you both. My namesake and my mirror image … and the daughter I would have liked to have. You would have made as worthy a sister to Raoul as you are to your own brothers." Josie swallowed hard, her hand tightening around Anne's as she nodded in acknowledgment of her ancestor's words. Olivier d'Athos looked next to Anne, who stared back at him with more than a little trepidation. What did he have to say to her, this first Athos, who set so much of this into motion? What he had to say surprised her.
"Your name was not meant to be Anne, you know. Your mother did not name you … to do so would have meant keeping you. But there were names both your father and mother wanted for their daughter. Your mother wanted to name you 'Clarisse,' after her own mother. I'm sure that your father would have been tempted to name you 'Barbara' after his mother or 'Ingrid' after his sister, but his choice for your name was 'Liselotte,' after a character in a book he read as a boy. But 'Anne' is the name you have chosen for yourself … bring honor to it," Olivier d'Athos told her. She could only gape at him, because … he wanted to talk about her name? But before she had the chance to ask what he was talking about, why he was bringing this up now, he went on, "And now, Anne de la Fere … it is time to finish your story."
Finish … her story. She stared at this ancestor of her husband's, his face so like that of her Athos. Her Athos, who was starting to recover his senses (and Aramis would have his hands full when that happened) … her Athos, who would have died if it weren't for the intervention of his ancestor and Philip Callaghan. The rage that began building against her husband a few minutes prior once more began rising … only this time, it was directed toward her ancestress who threatened her child, who haunted Anne's own dreams with images of her husband suffering, and who now actually harmed Athos. It was time to end this. She inclined her head to him, and began once more, "I was in the library with Nick Boyle, examining a hope chest that came in the shipment from Boston. We were getting ready to fit the key into the lock when the front door all but exploded off its hinges. Even on the second floor, we could hear Kat saying, in a voice that was and wasn't hers, Hello, my family … I have returned!"
TBC
Additional Author's Notes: Yes, Angelique's contribution to her daughter's name was a direct nod to 'Clarick.' I've loved that spelling ever since I first came across it in Fahrenheit 451, back as a sophomore in high school. 'Liselotte' is a name that drew my attention while I was reading the Wagons West series (roughly the same time period). And what does Anne think? Something along the lines of 'I was better off choosing my own name.' Next chapter should be the main confrontation between Anne and Milady, assuming they don't have other plans they've not yet shared with me (a dangerous assumption to make with them). Oh, and for those who didn't recognize the Ripley reference … in Aliens (1986), Ellen Ripley faced off with the alien queen who was menacing Newt (little girl who survived after her entire family was killed by the face-huggers and Ripley's surrogate daughter) with the iconic line, 'get away from her, you bitch!'
