Just as an FYI so no one freaks out: It will be probably two or three weeks before this story is updated again because I have to write a couple more Giver of Life vignettes in order for this next chapter to make sense. Thanks for your understanding and for the reviews. So good to see more readers coming out of the woodwork!

Oh, and in case you didn't see it: I have an interview online with Gordon L. Stamper Jr, a journalist and friend of mine. The link should be on my website (it's in the blog for sure). Follow the link if you want to read.

Thanks!

Gabrina

Bled from the Soul

OW37

We walked to the end of the street in silence, which made me wish I had Bessie as company. She would have been a more worthwhile companion for the night.

From the corner of my eye I watched Anthony. He had a sure but casual way about him that irritated me, as though his intentions were for nothing more than a pleasant stroll.

"A beautiful evening," he said.

"Average," I replied.

"The humidity has passed."

To that I grunted. "Not completely."

The Comte's carriage horses clip-clopped past us, and as I glanced up I saw Hermine waving through the window. With a nod I acknowledged her and she finally closed the curtain, leaving de Chagny to entertain her—or toss her from his carriage.

Anthony clasped his hands and abruptly stopped. "This is far enough."

I grit my teeth at his words, my hands immediately balling into fists. My treacherous encounter in an alley was not far enough behind me that I would allow anyone to lead me far away, especially unarmed. Without a word I searched the darkness, expecting he had friends laying in wait. I was certain I could tussle with at least three men if they dared to approach me.

"Monsieur—"

"What in the hell do you want from me?" I snapped.

He rolled his tongue along the inside of his cheek, casually ignoring my outburst. "From you? Nothing. Lisette has told me quite enough."

My heart stuttered, but I kept a straight face and nodded. What could she have told him? Certainly she was too young to realize I had killed her father. If she was old enough to remember I had strangled him then she had to know I had done it for her mother's safety, for their well-being. Selfless, I thought. I had acted selflessly to protect her, despite years of telling myself I had done it to save my music.

"She is fond of you," he stated. "However, I had my doubts concerning her motivation."

"You expected me to bribe a child?"

"Bribe? Absolutely not. Little girls are often fond of the men in their lives, for the wrong reasons."

I paused, my fingers on my cufflinks. "She knows me as Alexandre's father. They are playmates. I have never had lecherous notions toward the child."

"Ah, yes. She knows Alexandre," he mused. "It seems he's the perfect brother to her. He's obnoxious, caring, playful, and a ball of endless energy."

"You insult my son."

His expression never faltered. "Quite the contrary, Monsieur. He's a boy. He should be obnoxious, playful, and a ball of endless energy, night and day. It's the caring which surprised me—and his…manners. Some would argue that he's more barbarian than gentleman, what with the barrage of questions he throws at adults."

"What in the hell does that mean?"

"He has an excellent tutor. And he's quite fearless. I find that admirable in a young man, but with all I've heard concerning Charles Lowry it really comes as no surprise. Many families employ tutors. You seem to have acquired the entire Oxford library. It's impressive. Your son is fortunate."

I felt it was a backhanded compliment at best, but I merely nodded.

"Lissy's played with him for years, and I've seen him quite often," he continued.

"How?" I demanded.

"Julia has brought Lissy and Alex to my bakery on quite a few occasions."

I hadn't realized Julia had taken him to the bakery.

"And when Lissy wants a complimentary treat she is never without a companion."

"Is this why you have insisted upon this walk?" I sneered.

He crossed his arms. A now prominent vein on his forehead was the only indication of his mounting frustration. "You are quite an unpleasant conversationalist. I had hoped we could speak like proper gentleman."

"What is your question regarding my son?"

He looked away and tapped his fingers on his arm. His silence unnerved me and I took a step forward, more than prepared to ask him again.

"My inquiry is not about your son. It's about you."

"You will not question me. I will marry Julia whether you approve or not. You—"

"Oh, shut up a moment and listen," he snapped.

"Listen? Listen to what? You've said absolutely nothing of consequence since you opened your mouth."

"I've mentioned your son and Julia's daughter. You consider that nothing?"

I wondered if he'd "consider it nothing" if I wrapped my hands around his neck and strangled him on the street corner. One more remark from him and I would leave his corpse for stray dogs to feast on.

I cracked my knuckles. "No matter what I answer, you'll take my words out of context. I'm quite familiar with the lowly ways of the Seurattis."

He watched me a moment before he took a step back. "The ways of the Seurattis. You mean to insult me?"

"I intend to call you what you are, a Seuratti."

"Yes, I am, but you compare me to the only Seuratti you know, which was my cousin. Perhaps he is not the best example of our family."

"I've met a Falchetti as well and have yet to be impressed."

He chuckled softly, mocking me. "Max has never impressed me either. He has lungs filled with enough hot air to warm this city, but his heart? Well, if he's got one…I haven't seen it."

"I have few concerns for you family, whether they're Falchettis, Seurattis, or Testans."

"What about your family?" he challenged.

"What about my family?" It empowered me, this ability to say I had a family. If he dared to insult them—from Charles to Madeline, Alex or even Aria—I'd kill him. His words concerning me made little difference. However, I would not tolerate any man speaking ill of my family.

"Not the Giry and not the Kires, whoever the hell they are. What about the Kimmers?"

My lips parted, deceiving my outward appearance. The onset of rage disappeared, swiftly replaced by bewilderment.

Kimmer. That was a surname I had not heard in many years, one which I had never expected to hear ever again. It had been quite some time since I'd felt the ache in my heart that name had branded within me. Suddenly I realized it had never healed, never left the deepest corner of my consciousness.

Kimmer. Did I say it aloud or was it all in my mind? There many days when I wondered if he had ever existed, a bandage to my ever-damaged mind. As the years passed his memory leaked from the hole he'd left in my heart, in my life. I thought I had drained my soul of him when really, truly…I had become him.

Had I been alone I would have wept.

"Ah, so the name is familiar to you after all?" he questioned when I didn't offer a reply. "I wasn't certain you would know it."