Renee was surprised at how quickly her life here in the cathedral had settled into a routine. Most mornings, she would wake and Quasi would ring for Lauds and Vespers, and she would help the nuns prepare meals in the kitchens throughout the day, or scrub the cloister cells.
One evening in early December following a light supper of soup and bread, Quasi had (as usual) erupted into another argument with Alice over something trivial.
Renee sighed, dragging the bell ringer away from the kitchens at last, after the poor man had practically shouted himself hoarse at Sister Alice, and it was only when she forced him to sit and drink a chalice of water that he managed to regain most of his composure, his hands still struggling with the effort to restrain himself. "You have quite a temper, don't you?" she teased, taking note of how the man was looking at her in awe. "Just…take deep breaths, nice and slow. Calm yourself. That's it," she encouraged gently, hoping her voice remained neutral.
"I'm afraid so," he confessed, suddenly sounding ashamed. "I don't…I didn't mean to….I hope you never have to see that side of me again," he said, giving her a pained look as he set the chalice down and reached out for her hand. "I don't like it when it comes out, but sometimes I—I just can't help myself."
Renee grinned, feeling the beginnings of something stir in her heart. Before she even knew what she was doing, she'd perched herself astride his lap and had wrapped one hand around his neck, the other buried in his hair, gently playing with the stray strands of wavy red locks. He shuddered at her gentle touch, the beginnings of a smile on his mouth. "It wasn't your fault," she whispered into his ear, sending a chill down his spine. "The nun was the one that started it. You were provoked."
"A talent she's good at, I'm afraid," he sighed, but his gaze was fixed solely on her, lost in her eyes. Quasi fell silent for a moment, just content to look into the blonde-haired woman's eyes. "Your eyes, they're…they're like smoke. Gray and full of heat," he whispered. "I've never seen eyes like yours before."
She smiled teasingly, ruffling his hair. "Hate it to break it to you, Quasi, but smoke isn't full of heat, it's an effect of heat," she corrected lightly, noticing the catch in his breath at how close she was. Perhaps she had overstepped a physical boundary by sitting on his lap like this, but no one else in the cathedral was up at this late hour of the night, it had to be at least midnight by now. Moreover, if she was being honest with herself, she wanted to.
She liked the closeness, the feeling of security, safety she got whenever she was near him. He was, in her eyes at least, considered handsome, kind, never forced her to do anything or asked anything demeaning of her. How such a cruel man like Claude could raise someone so kind and gentle was beyond her, and for a moment, she wondered what Quasimodo's life would have been like had he been fortunate enough to grow up with loving parents.
Noticing her smile faltering, the bell ringer reached up a hand and caught her hand in his, bringing it to his lips for a gentle kiss that sent chills all throughout her body. "What's wrong, love?"
"I wish you could have met your mother," she whispered, thinking of how she had read the passage earlier in the story, her voice cracking slightly as she rested her head atop his, enjoying the warmth he gave off while he held her. "I think you would have liked her," she said quietly. The book had detailed Florika's love and sacrifice for her only child, and she was grateful the story, if it even had a conscience of its own, had chosen to drop her into the action after that part.
Quasimodo was looking pained. "I—I'm afraid I don't know much about her, I'm afraid. Master Frollo would not tell me much. What was he like?" he questioned, growing curious now.
Renee sighed, taking a second to marvel in the beauty of the beautiful stained glass depicting a rose they had chosen to stop in front of and rest before going their separate ways for the night. "She was nice. She loved you." Renee's gaze drifted down towards one of his hands, and noticed to her shock and horror it was covered in little angry red scars. He felt his heart skip a beat as she gingerly held his hand in her palm, tracing the same lines of his palm with a delicate finger that Esmeralda had once read to him, telling him that she could see no monster lines. Renee didn't react. Did she know already? "How long?" It was all she asked.
Quasi ignored her question, and to his relief, she did not press him for an answer, although it surprised him a little. "Your scars…"
"Please," he said painfully, reaching up to caress her cheek tenderly. "Don't. Please don't. Not…not yet." His tone was hard, bitter, and Renee knew better than to press the issue.
She fell silent for a moment, simply content to just hold his hand and sit in his lap. 'You know," she spoke up quietly, shifting slightly in his lap so he could look her in the eyes. "Your heart's intentions show you where you're going, and the physical scars show where you've been." Quasi shifted in his seat, for the first time and really, truly looked at the woman he was going to marry.
Her willowy frame. Her slender figure. Her gray eyes that looked like they could see straight into your heart while at the same time stealing your very breath away, rendering you speechless. In her, he saw beauty. Her hands were strong, yet gentle at the same time. And her lips…Quasi reached up a finger and gently traced the outline of her lips, wondering what she would think of him if he were to try to kiss her again. He did not have to wait long, because this time, she was the one to initiate it, leaving him surprised. He loved the way her small body melted into his, the way she relented as he felt his hand drift upwards to the back of her hair, pressing in softly, holding her tighter until there was no space left. His kiss was gentle, passionate, and everything she needed in a partner. Her hands worked their way around his body, feeling each crevasse, each line along his perfect physique.
Things were progressing a little too fast for his comfort, though, God, he wanted her, as much as she seemed to want him. He broke apart first, shoving her backward slightly. "Renee, as much as I want to with you right now, I—I can't. Not yet."
"You don't like it?" she asked, genuinely looking upset.
"No!" he shouted, suddenly realizing what he had said. "I-I do, I love it, i-it's just...I just…you and I, I can feel it. There is something here, something truly special that you and I share, and I want to court you the right way, Renee. I don't want to rush things. Please…"
She nodded in understanding, her cheeks high and flushed with color. "I understand," she whispered, thinking how nice her name sounded coming from him. She clasped both hands on either side of his face and pulled him in for another kiss, this one gentle and not quite as demanding. "Slow it is then," she teased.
He sighed, enveloping his future wife in a protective hug, wanting nothing more than to finish what they'd started, but not yet. Their time would come, and when it finally did, he would cherish every second of it. "You should sleep," he said quietly, a hand on the small of her back as he rose from his chair and helped her to her feet, never once letting go of her hand. "It's—it's late, and you've had a long day. You should rest."
Renee nodded, recognizing defeat. She stifled a yawn with the back of her hand and turned to go, but not before turning around and slamming her lips against his in another kiss, nearly knocking all the wind from his lungs. She could not help it.
The swirls of emotion she had seen in her intended's eyes made her only want him that much more. Lust and desire. But more importantly: the beginnings of love. True, genuine love. What more could she ask for? She felt like she was walking on air as they kissed, it was magic, the way they seemed to fit together as though they were made for one another, and she knew that, however unorthodox their relationship might be, that it was.
For Quasi, this kiss goodnight obliterated his every thought into nothingness. For the first time in a long time, his mind was locked into the present. The worries of his day evaporated, over what she would think of him, the uncertain future he had with her, but now, as they kissed, he knew none of that mattered now. His usual mode of hurrying from one thing to the next was suspended; he had no wish for their kiss to end. His only desire in the moment was to touch her, to move his hands and feel her perfect, warm softness. A kiss like this was the beginning.
A promise of so much more to come.
The Watcher's brain stuttered for a moment and his eyes took in more light than he expected, every part of him seemed to go on pause while his thoughts catch up. His wicked smile faltered, and his face fell faster than a corpse on a battlefield. In that instant, his skin became greyed, his mouth hung with lips slightly parted, and his eyes were as wide as they could stretch. There wasn't even a point in reaching for his knife. He felt like his entire body had been doused in ice water. The Watcher was doing what he did best. Watching. Seeing the blonde woman embrace that redheaded bastard from the depths of Hell itself made his blood boil and then freeze over and run cold. The cathedral surroundings around him as he watched from his perch high above in one of the rafters seemed to disappear around him, until it was just her and him. As if stuck underwater, everything was slow and warbled as he could only stare in disgust and disbelief at what he was seeing.
"Damn it," he whisper-hissed angrily. "Frollo won't like this." The moment the Watcher realized he'd misinterpreted the Barreau girl's actions, her words, her expressions, as if she had been speaking a language he couldn't understand…that moment his words stopped and his ability form rational thoughts froze at seeing the two of them embrace in a way that only spelled bad news for Master Jehan, was the moment the Watcher's heart broke. Yet, it was a good breaking. The type that led to healing and new ways onward, sometimes the loss of words says more.
He knew as he glowered up from his perch in the rafters unseen by anyone until such a time he wanted to be seen that he was safe. He would kill the redheaded beast and take the girl for himself. Long had the Watcher held his inner pain to be the fault of others, caused by others. Never once had he looked into the mirror of his own soul and asked what different choices he could make, not for his own sake, but for the sake of others. In each moment, he made only choices for himself and surrendered to whatever fear came his way—as cowards would do. But he was not a coward. No, far from it, he was merely selfish.
Were he in war, he would be labeled traitor, crying, "What else could I have done?" Should his choice be a splinter in his own finger for all eternity or to burn the world, he would see it as no contest.
Obviously, he would burn the whole world.
The Watcher was jolted out of his inner musings as he watched, with immense dissatisfaction, the girl give Notre Dame's bell ringer another kiss before finally departing. "Thank God," he muttered darkly under his breath. "What he's doing to you, it makes me sick," he growled, stifling a low growl in the back of his throat as he stood, walking along the rafter beams with no problems, as if he did this every day of his life with no issues.
And he did.
He followed the little blonde-haired woman as she silently made her way through the deserted corridors and hallways of Notre Dame, back towards the cloister cells. He shifted the knife in his hands, marveling at how the silver gleamed in the light. He had always loved this knife, using it only for its intended purpose. In the next week or so, this piece of art would fulfill its deadly promise. Only such a knife would do. Then, the world would burn. The Watcher could not quite understand why it was so important to him to kill his target with something so exquisite, but it was very, very much so. It had to be done. Fire did not care if it burnt wood, pig fat, or the flesh from your body. Like his knife, it has no preference at all. Every part of this girl's body was no more than a borrowed element forged in a star from heaven itself, and it was time for her to glow hot again.
He would keep the girl for his own, marry her. But first, there was the matter of the boy. Lord Jehan had been clear. Do whatever you want to the girl, but kill the boy. Make sure he's dead. "I'm thinking fire," he whispered sardonically. "Burning can be fast or slow, I'm thinking slowly, from your toes," he hissed, speaking to the bell ringer, though he knew the man couldn't hear him. "In a fire, the smoke puts you out first, it's a kindness, I suppose. I am not kind. You think you can take Barreau away from me, you're dead wrong, boy," the man growled, pulling up his hood to conceal his features. "The world thought it could reform me, but it is I who will reform the world. They will soon see as I see the world. In a corner and bleeding." The hired assassin weighed his knife in his hand. It was no heavier than a kitchen blade, but would cut on first contact, even with minimum pressure. Its serrations were like waves, but not randomly so like on the other cheap knives. They would slide in smoothly and do maximum damage on the way out, like the barbs of a fishing hook. At seven inches, he could easily keep it under his tunic, not his only weapon, of course, but a useful back up in close combat. For some reason, when he saw his distorted reflection in the steel, his mind flickered to Renee Barreau. He could see her bleeding already and the corners of his mouth twitched upwards. It would be too easy.
"If you stay with me, angel," he whispered, speaking to Renee from his perch on the rafter as he sat, his back resting against a beam, one of his legs dangling precariously over the edge. "I'll kill you bit by bit. That is what I do to those who love me. Why? I may never know. If I have enough power over you, it puts me in control. Having control makes you strong, and nobody likes weak. It gives me satisfaction, you might say."
He let out a soft chuckle, grateful no one was awake to hear it.
"Almost as if it is the very thing that drives me. The thing I would do anything for. When you're flying high, I'll drag you down. I will eat at your problems just enough to break you, but still be the one to soothe you. You have chosen this life by not realizing what you have done to me, and because of that, my dear, you will be mine. Your life is determined by me now."
Satisfied that he would be seeing Renee again very soon, he sheathed his knife and stood, walking on the rafter beams of the cathedral's south bell tower as though it were the easiest thing in the world, and for him, it was. He hummed and whistled a low tune to himself as he took his time exiting Paris' Lady of Peace.
Legend says that for his kind, the group of assassins, their hearts died in their chest cavities long ago that they putrefied and made a heavy slime about their lungs as thick as underworld tar. That is how his kind became killers and why. The wise women of the northern parts of France said that their emptiness was their madness, that people like the Watcher take life repeatedly as if they may possess the hearts and souls, yet never so. To be healed, someone pure has to love each of them, to reform their heart as if it were the finest of clay, then set it to beating with pure nature's essence. Therefore, until the Watcher could find such a being to forgive all that he has done, to break the universal scales and set him free to begin anew, the killings went on. For the Watcher, his work was only getting started. This was going to be fun. He would kill again, and again, and again, and then this girl, this blonde angel, this Renee, she was going to be the one of pure heart to release him from his cursed life.
Oh, yes. She was going to be his. "You'll see," he whispered. You will see. You will all see, before this is over, when it is finished. It will have been worth it, my dear. You know I will give you a good life. I swear it.
The blizzard came to Notre Dame in early December with nature's determination, that primal force that conquered until its energy was released in the form of pure white blankets of snow. The storm held more flakes than it would ever make sense for Quasimodo to count, yet as he watched, each made its own daring path to the white dunes they build taller. One flake in the sky would be madness, yet the horizon from his perch in the rafters above as he looked out into the streets of Paris was filled with them. In the blizzard, there was no way to know which way to go, though he knew his tower by heart and could walk the place blindfolded, the usual landmarks of the north tower were hidden behind the white that swirled so densely.
Even Renee below huddled underneath the thickest blanket he owned was little more than a crude outline of a human mostly erased by the storm. The soft crystals he would have found so bewitching were this any other circumstance. The flakes packed down his neck and between the fabric of his thick brown tunic and cloak. He could feel his blood cool and his skin become icy. Frowning, if he looked closely, the edges of Renee's lips were beginning to turn blue. It was getting to be too much for both of them to bear, and they would have no choice but to take shelter in one of the spare cloister cells. As the frigid storm bombarded their tower, he sighed and leapt down from the rafter beam with gentle ease and speed that surprised the blonde. He frowned as he looked at her worriedly.
Her teeth were chattering incessantly."You're freezing, Renee," he muttered quietly, not giving her a chance to protest as he gently helped her to her feet. "We're going downstairs, this storm is only going to get worse," he said, glancing out at the white blinding blizzard before them.
Renee nodded, not saying a word. She couldn't. It was too cold. She allowed herself to be led down the tower steps to one of the spare cloister cells, this one a little bigger than her current quarters. "Sit…with…me…" she managed to stutter out between her chills. "Please," she whispered, smiling softly.
He didn't need any encouragement. "You're freezing," he murmured, pulling her close and rubbing her shoulders, doing what little he could to get some blood flowing again to her ice cold flesh. "What can I do for you?" he asked softly.
"You can…." she shivered; scooting herself closer and draping the blanket over him too so he could share in the warmth.
"You need to get warm," he urged, looking around the cloister for any spare blankets. He made to turn away, but she grabbed his arm and yanked him back. The sheer force of her unexpected gesture caught the man off guard and in his haste to steady himself he practically barreled poor Renee over onto the bed, falling on top of her. She let out a startled shout and raised her hands to her face to cover herself from the worst of his fall.
"That hurt," he groaned, blearily opening his eyes. "Are you okay,?" he urged.
"Fine," she croaked hoarsely. "But you are kind of heavy—"
"Well, well, well," interrupted a woman's voice from the doorway, causing both to look up, startled and annoyed at the interruption. Sister Alice stood in the doorway, her graytresses gathered into a loose braid and she seemed to be shrinking into her thick brown robes as much as she could for warmth. "What do we have here?" she teased, her blue eyes twinkling mischievously as she looked at the couple of the rim of her wine goblet. "Am I interrupting something?" she laughed.
"Yes," snapped Quasi, sighing and hoisting himself upright to a sitting position at the edge of the bed. "But we're grateful you're here, Alice," he sighed, glancing sideways at Renee, whose cheeks were high with color and a scowl on her pretty face. "Can you do anything for her? She's cold to the touch, and I don't know what I can do for her to help get her warm, Alice."
Alice smirked, rolling her eyes. "Oh, I can think of a few ways," she chuckled darkly, noticing all too well the heated look Renee was throwing her way. Quasi quirked his brow at the exchange but chose not to comment on it. "Anyway," she sighed, striding over to the bed and taking the girl's wrist in hers and feeling for her pulse. The nun shuddered at how the poor child's skin was like ice. "Jesus," she muttered darkly. "You weren't kidding. Your poor skin is cold to the touch. All right," she said, no trace of joking in her matronly tone now. "I'll do what I can for you. I'll see if I can ration some extra blankets from our stores down below. Quasi, if you'll go with Brother Eduard to see about finding some wood we can use to make a small fire, that would be a good start, and I'll get with Sister Rosemary to prepare dinner for you both. Hot stew ought to do the trick, I hope," she murmured softly, her joking tone setaside, replaced with her natural Healer's abilities. "Go."
The bell ringer nodded, not wanting to waste any more time, but not before he leaned over to give Renee a gentle kiss. "I'll be back, beloved," he promised softly, ignoring the grin Sister Alice was shooting their way. "Don't move, just try to rest."
All Renee could do was nod, her teeth still chattering. Alice noticed this and snapped off a bit a hard piece of bread she had been carrying wrapped in a cloth. "Here, girl," she commanded sternly. "Eat that. Will prevent you from biting off your tongue if you keep up that behavior," she teased. "Don't move from this cell, kid, you hear me? Do as he says. Rest."
Renee obliged, thinking that she couldn't go anywhere in her current state even if she wanted to, she was too cold. If they couldn't warm her up soon, she would most likely freeze to death. She cocooned herself further into the small pile of blankets she had amassed, hoping she could get warm. As she watched the two vanish, she became fully aware that she was sulking, but she couldn't help it. She blamed Alice for ruining the moment.
If she had not barged in when she did, you would have had him, she thought bitterly. You know you've wanted it since the first few days of getting to know him. Don't bother trying to deny it to yourself.
A startled quiet cough from the doorway interrupted her bout of sulking, and she would have screamed had she the energy, but she could only looked up hazily at the entryway to the cloister cell and blearily tried to focus her gaze a few feet in front of herself. Who she saw standing there made her smile.
"T—Tristan," she mumbled, struggling to control the incessant chattering of her teeth. Jehan's squire stood shyly in the doorway, looking like he wanted to come in, but didn't want to overstep any boundaries. "What…are…you d—doing here?" Though most would question her for wanting to befriend someone in the employment of Lord Jehan Frollo, the squire had, after all, been quite kind to her upon her arrival in Paris and therefore, she trusted him. It was wrong to assume that everyone who worked for Jehan himself was just like the man, and for that, until proven otherwise, Renee would give young Tristan the benefit of the doubt for now.
A light blush speckled across his cheeks as he dared to step a few feet into the cell, a concerned look on his kind face. His tunic and dark hair was covered in snow, and his boots were leaving water trails from the melted snow. "Milady, I hope I'm not intruding," he said courteously, his blue eyes lifting slightly daring to meet her gaze. "Captain Phoebus gave me permission to come see how you were doing. The storm and all," he grinned, a little sheepishly, and dared to take a seat across from her. "I— I've never seen a storm this bad, I'm afraid," he said, suddenly looking worried as he stood up, restless and went to peer out the barred window of her cell. "It truly is the storm of a century."
It did not escape her attention that Tristan was suddenly looking uncomfortable. "What's…wrong?" she managed to croak out.
"Well, I—I've been forced to claim sanctuary here," he grumbled, looking suddenly disgruntled, gingerly holding his useless hand and looking at it with some form of disgust. "Least until the storm passes, milady. I had thought that it was only going to be a couple of days, but from the looks of the blizzard outside, it might turn into weeks. I hope that my being here will not interfere with you and…him," he said at last, looking pained.
Renee shook her head, smiling reassuringly. "N-no, that's fine…Keep me company, Tristan, I like talking to you."
The squire gave a curt nod, not looking at the young blonde. For a moment, she wondered if she had said something to upset him. Then he spoke, and she felt her shoulders relax at the unexplained tensions in the room. She could not explain it, and she was certain it was not from the cold. But what is it, then?
"Do you know the—the story of Tristan and Iseult, milady?" he asked suddenly, turning to look at her with a new intensity in his eyes that she was not sure what to make of. "How I got my name?"
"I do," she whispered. "Phoebus told me the story, and it's one of my favorite books. Star-crossed lovers meet and they are never destined to be together only until they meet their deaths at the hands of poison. Their bodies carried back to King Mark's kingdom of Tintagel and green leafy briars with budding flowers grew from their tombs, and when the king heard, he forbade the peasants to cut it," she confessed, reaching up a shaking hand to try to brush her bangs out of her eyes, but to her surprise, Tristan reached up a hand and did it for her. "Um, thanks…"
A loud cough interrupted whatever she had been about to say next. Tristan looked up, a dark look overcame his features, but he relaxed a little when he was Quasi standing in the doorway, his eyebrows raised and his arms folded across his chest, looking annoyed to see the young squire standing there. "Who is this?" he asked cautiously, but there was no mistaking the note of jealousy in the bell ringer's voice.
Renee coughed once to mask her laugh before it escaped.
"Tristan, sir. I..we've met before," he confesse,d thinking it wouldn't do well to bring up Renee's little slip into the Seine. "I've…heard a lot about you," offered the young squire cordially, offering the man his good hand for him to shake. Quasi looked perplexed for a moment, but begrudgingly took his hand. He winced at the strength of the young man's grip but chose to not comment on it. He had eyes only for her.
"How are you feeling, love?" he asked, concern laced in his voice as he hurried to her side, not hesitating in reaching for another blanket. "Are you getting warmer? Alice should be up soon with some soup for you, I hope. You'll beat this."
"B—better," she confessed, shooting Tristan a kind smile. "Now that Tristan is here with us. He has been keeping me company while you were down in the crypts. He's one of Phoebus's, one of the best he could ever ask for. Isn't that right?"
Tristan nodded eagerly. "Captain Phoebus is a good man," he sighed, gazing off into the distance as though he were thinking about something else. He seemed to snap out of it. "What am I doing—I—I should leave you both alone," he murmured, growing slightly panicked. "Where is the nun?" he asked quizzically. "If I'm going to be staying in the cathedral with you lot, the least I can do is be of some assistance to you all."
Touched by his kindness, Renee smiled at Tristan, noticing with some affection how his face seemed to light up at the gesture. "Kitchens," she managed to rasp out weakly. "Down the hall to the right, third door on the left. Supply closet next to it."
Phoebus's squire nodded, seemingly over eager to help, shooting one last longing glance at Renee before leaving. She could have sworn she had seen the briefest flickers of jealousy pass through his eyes, but as soon as it had come, it was gone.
Chuckling, she turned to Quasi, who was staring after the door at the spot where the young squire had been only minutes before. "He's a good man," she said quietly, scooting over and resting her head against Quasi's shoulder. "Don't be so hard on him."
"I—I'm not, I just…he has a crush on you!" he laughed, sounding amused. "Surely you can see it for yourself, and—"
"I know," interjected Renee, smiling softly, leaning forward to give him a gentle kiss, stifling the urge to grin into their kiss. His lips, unlike hers, were warm, and seemed to ignite a fire within her, instantly warming her insides. When they broke apart, he was surprised to see the beginning of a lascivious smile on her face. "I think I know how you can help me get warm," she grinned, enjoying his dazed expression. He smiled and leaned in to kiss her again, but a scream from down the corridor interrupted their moment.
"Alice!" he shouted, bolting to his feet. "Come on, Renee! We have to hurry!" he urged, grabbing her hand and letting her pile of blankets tumble to the cloister floor as he wrenched her to her feet, dragging her down to the hall to the kitchens. "What happened?" demanded Quasi and froze. "Oh, God…" he moaned. Alice had collapsed onto a chair and was clutching her heart and looking white, no color left in her face.
"I—I don't know what happened!" she wailed hysterically. "B— but the boy—the kid who came in here is dead! I—I didn't see who did it, b—but he screamed, a—and whoever took his body, they—they told me not to look around or I'd die too!" she cried, tears flowing down her cheeks. "He's dead!"
The kitchen floor was an utter mess. If a man had pulled a finger by force and painted with it upon the cooked earth, the bloody trail couldn't have been less obvious. It was already browning with those sickly matted clumps that could be fragments of what was once human. Quasi strode forward, kneeling down to look at the blood trail with a careful eye. Arcs of scarlet seemed to lead to the kitchen towards the cellars that led into the crypts below.
It was clear to him the body had been dragged.
He turned to Renee, who had tears brimming in her eyes. Quasi instinctively pulled her close, stroking her hair and doing what he could to take away her pain at losing a friend. "Oh, God," she whispered. "Wh—what are we going to tell Phoebus?" she sobbed, clutching tightly onto his tunic. "He—he wasn't that much older than us, love! Why?" she wailed.
"I don't know who did this, but he won't get away with it," he snarled angrily. "I'm going down there," he announced grimly, ignoring Alice and Renee's vehement protests that he stay up here.
Quasi did his best to quell the raging inferno building in his chest. "I don't know who he thinks he is. Thinks he can come into Holy Ground and kill one of my future wife's friends, he's got another thing coming. Threatening Renee... I don't think so."
The wine cellar of Notre Dame was spacious and vast. The most exclusive vintages of Europe were shelved in wooden racks, trusted to the natural chill of the soil beneath the dense stone walls. Brackets for a few dimly lit candles helped guide his way, and he was careful not to make a sound as he descended the stairs. Waxy residue dripped from them, suggesting one of the nuns had been down here recently. It smelled musty, but he could not see or hear any water seeping in. He kept his head bowed as he ducked to avoid hitting one of the chandeliers.
The bell ringer winced as he stepped off the last floorboard and it creaked. Making any further noise might alert the killer if he was still down here and give away his position, something of which he had no intention of doing.
Scowling in annoyance and feeling the beginnings of fear prick his heart, he moved aside one of the wine barrels and let out a cry as a shadowed figure stood there, concealed in the shadows, his arms crossed against his chest and one of his legs folded over as he leaned against the wall for support, a relaxed stance, as though he'd been waiting.
"What do you want? I don't know who you are, but you made a grave mistake in coming here tonight. What you've done," snarled Quasi through clenched teeth. "What you have just done is considered an act of treason. A crime punishable by death. I'd be only too happy to send you back to Hell myself!"
The hooded man in the shadows laughed at his statement, and Quasi's blood ran cold at such a chilling sound, devoid of any emotion. Due to the dim light and his green hooded tunic, it was impossible to make out any details of the man's face from this distance. When the man spoke, his voice was not unlike that of the wine barrel he had just moved, harsh and grating. "I killed the p—poor bumbling s—squire," mocked the man cruelly, his tone like ice. "He was an idiot, and you ask me, the world is better off without him. The kid was a simple-minded fool. Some knight he'd make. As far I am concerned, I just did the entire world a favor, boy, not to mention the knight responsible for him. The boy won't be missed, of that I'm sure," he growled darkly, taking great care to stay in the shadows. "Consider that little display a warning."
The fear traveled in Quasi's veins but never made it to his facial muscles or his skin. His complexion remained pale; his eyes steady, as they never left the man in the shadows. Whoever he was, he was taller than the bell ringer was, and probably could outrun him given how lean he was. Quasimodo felt his temper surge to dangerous levels and he turned away, showing this man that he was not afraid to turn his back on him. Quasi watched, almost transfixed as the hooded man effortlessly climb one of the wine racks. The man made for the window, but before he made his escape, he turned and regarded the bell ringer with a cruel smile.
"Do not marry the girl or the next person I'm coming for is you. Consider the squire your one and only warning," was all he said, before darting out the window and into the raging blizzard outside. He dared not follow him.
The best he could do at this point was alert the Archdeacon and Captain Phoebus of what had just happened. Visibly shaken, he made his way back up the stairs to tell Sister Alice and Renee what he had heard, and to go alert the Archdeacon. He ordered his body to fall in line as the three of them scoured the church until they found the Archdeacon. He was not going to listen to the man's warning. Retreat would be a disaster, a show of weakness, an inlet for the enemy to surge through. Nothing in his face betrayed his fear; it was a mask of defiance and surety, that's why he was going to win. He would marry Renee regardless of anyone else's wishes. His fear would eventually need an out, of course, he wasn't going the way of poor Tristan, but there was a time and place and now sure as hell wasn't it. He had to protect her.
Even if it meant his own life.
A week had passed since that little episode in the kitchens. Renee was beginning to get claustrophobic, despite the vastness of the cathedral. Ever since poor Tristan was murdered, the Archdeacon had ordered her not to leave, at least not without taking someone with her. It was clear to them all that someone was after her and Quasi. But mostly her. They hadn't even been able to locate the poor boy's body to give Phoebus's squire a proper funeral, as he deserved, which upset Renee greatly.
"There's nothing we can do, I'm afraid," Phoebus had said when he and Esmeralda had stopped by the other day to give the pair an update. "The best thing everyone can do right now is stay indoors, do not leave the sanctuary...and travel in pairs. No more wandering off alone." He'd fixed Renee with an unusually stern look then.
Renee had hastily agreed. Their situation was becoming worse and worse as the days passed, and Renee was beginning to wonder if she wouldn't be better off.
She could feel Quasi's gaze practically burning a hole in the back of her skull as he silently joined her out on the Rose Window balcony. Renee desperately tried to hide how fearful she was. She could control the tremors in her voice to a degree. She could consciously will her body movements to be less stilted. She could make herself smile somewhat even if it looked false. But she could not fool Quasi, she never could.
She sighed, resting her chin in her hands as she rested her elbows on the balcony's railing, watching the sunset. "He'll come back, you know," she croaked hoarsely. "I—I don't know who he is or—or what he wants, but Claude's brother is after me. I'd be willing to be my hands on this that Jehan is involved."
"You don't want to make that bet, love," murmured Quasi, coming up behind her and snaking his arms around her waist, resting his chin on her shoulder.
She huffed in frustration, turning her head slightly to look him in the eyes. "Yeah I do. I wouldn't put it past the man. He's vile, nothing but a snake in the night. He's up to something."
Quasi smiled sadly. "Regardless, Renee, I don't think we can do anything about it now. At least not yet. I want you safe."
"But he has to be stopped! Jehan is a monster and I cannot allow him to destroy the only good in my life since arriving in this damned city, because the only thing I care about in my goddamn life are my books, me and you!" she shouted, her patience reaching his breaking point. "You—you saw the mess that asshole made of the kitchens a few nights ago, my God, what he would do to you!" Renee could feel her tears welling in her eyes. "I—I've been thinking a lot lately about you and me," she began, her voice shaking. She coughed once and willing her voice to remain calm. "And I came to a conclusion that I—I didn't want to deal with, but ever since he came here, I can't hide from this anymore. You're in danger as long as I'm around you. I need to go."
Quasi stared, his eyes widening and his face draining of color. "Renee…what are you saying?" he demanded cautiously. "You can't possibly be thinking what I think you are, are you?" he pleaded, his tone desperately. He grabbed hold of her arm, preventing her from walking away. "No, don't walk away from me," he ordered, doing his best not to raise his voice at her.
"I have to," she croaked hoarsely. "As long as I stay here, your life is in danger, and I won't have it. I'm going home," she snapped. "If no one will stand up to Jehan Frollo, then I will. I know men like him. He wants me. I know he does, and no one else is going to die. Not for me. I have to stop it. Me, just me, no one else. No one else is going to die for me," she added bitterly.
"You are home, Renee," he reassured her softly, pulling her close for a tight hug. "Your home is here now. With me. I swear it, love, you are safe with me. If you stay by me, I'll protect you, even if it means with my own life," he swore.
She smiled, resting her head against his chest, feeling warm in his embrace against the bitter cold. Renee craned her neck upwards to look into his brown eyes, losing herself for a moment in the brilliant blue of his eyes. "Love me?" she asked.
He grinned, sending her heart into palpitations like he always did whenever he smiled at her. "Until the end of the world," he promised. He leaned in to kiss her and she sighed happily as he pulled her closer.
She stifled the urge to break into delighted laughter as he lifted her gently in his arms and carried her back to his sleeping nook. He laid her gently on the cot and took a moment just to study her face before pulling her close for another kiss, this time urgent and demanding as his body craved more of her touch. He took his time unlacing her dress, savoring how soft her skin felt against his. He was surprised when she swatted his hand away.
"Are you sure?" she asked, furrowing her brow into a light frown. "I—I know we…we aren't married, b-but I thought you said that you didn't want to, not until after...after..." she whispered, her voice cracking a little.
He smiled at her, hoping to ease the burden she carried on her shoulders. "I know what I want. You," he answered. "Just you." When she did not respond, he continued. "I've been thinking about this for quite some time, Renee. Please don't doubt my convictions." She nodded mutely, finally accepting it as fact and choosing to trust him.
There was something about Renee that lit him up from the inside. In turn, there was something about Quasi that melted her confidence to nothing at all. Touching him was like being handed the Holy Grail, like her heart was mended though she never knew it was broken. She broke apart, resting her forehead against his. "Thank you," she whispered.
"For what?" Quasi replied, his voice low and husky, and heavy with desire for the young, intelligent, funny, beautiful witch with the bright pink hair that had stolen his heart before he'd even known it was gone. "I've done nothing, Renee. I'm just…me."
"For being you." Her voice wavered, exhilarated from the tension between them. She reached up and intertwined their fingers together. He startled a little at the sudden jolt of electricity that seemed to pass through his body, but he liked the warmth it gave off, that Renee gave off.
"You accepted me for who I am, not for who you wanted me to be." She gestured to her hair and scrunched her nose in disgust. "I could never truly be myself around anyone before. You never once pestered me to change my looks or—or told me I wasn't good enough. Or pretty enough for you. So, thank you, Quasi. Truly." At her last comment, her voice cracked and broke.
It broke his heart, to see her this way. "I love you for who you are. I just…" Quasi hesitated. "I love you for who you are. I just want you to be happy, and why you could want me?" he whispered into the shell of her ear, and was given virtually no time to react as Renee had to reach up on her tiptoes to gently lean in and kiss his warm lips. They pulled apart, taking shaky, shallow breaths.
"How could I not?" echoed Renee, a wry smile on her lips.
A beat. A pause. For a second, Renee wondered if she made a mistake. Unable to contain himself anymore, Quasi caught Renee's head between his hands and pulled her close for a fiery passionate kiss. Her hands snaked their way up his body around it, feeling each crevasse, each line along his perfect physique underneath his thick tunic. All of this was very real. The tiny moan he heard her give out was real, and this only made Quasi want more of her.
He kissed her and the world fell away. It was slow and soft, comforting in ways that words would never be. His hand rested below her ear, his thumb caressing her cheek as their breaths mingled. She ran her fingers down his spine, pulling him closer until there was no space left between them and she could feel the beating of his heart against her chest. When she kissed him, Quasi's brain lit on fire and the warmth spread throughout his entire body. After that, Quasi was addicted. He couldn't bear not to be with her, and he could barely breathe when she was around.
Those kisses were his salvation and his torment. He lived for them and he would die with the memory of them on his lips. Quasi dedicated his life to being with her from the moment of that first kiss, for he knew that if he lost her, he would lose himself. She was the half that made him whole.
Their kiss obliterated every thought. For the first time in forever Quasi's mind was locked into the present. The worries of the day evaporated like a summer shower onto hot pavement. His usual mode of hurrying from one thing to the next was suspended, he had no wish for the kiss to end. Drunk on endorphins his only desire was to touch her, to move his hands under her smooth summer layers and feel her perfect softness. In moments the soft caress has become firmer, he savored her lips and the quickening of her breath that matched his own.
A kiss like this was a beginning, a promise of much more to come.
A soft smile on her lips, she held him by the hand and wordlessly dragged him back to his sleeping nook in his tower. Renee let out a tiny gasp as he finally took initiative and gingerly shoved her onto his simple cot, his fingers itching to explore every inch, coming up to grip almost painfully tight on the waist of her dress. She shuddered as his hands moved over her skin, her body undergoing a transitory paralysis, her mind unable to process the pleasure so fast. Both moved in an intoxicated dance of limbs, never making the same exact moves twice, not knowing what to do.
But they would figure it out along the way, together, as lovers.
Quasi pulled up to try to kiss her, but she stopped him. "No," she urged desperately, raising a trembling finger to his lips, stopping him from taking another move. "Not yet," Renee teased. She pushed him off her, shoving him hard back onto his makeshift mattress. Straddling his hips, she frowned as he moved to sit up, but she pushed him back down onto. "No."
"Renee," he started to say, but she cut him off by kissing his lips. He kissed her back, his hands coming up to her neck and entangling in her hair. Renee pulled away, grabbing his hands gently and placing them back down by his sides. "What are you doing?" he demanded.
"No touching," she whispered into the shell of his ear, smirking.
"That's not fair," he sulked, suddenly looking put off and hurt.
"Shut up." Renee brought her finger up to his lips and leaned down to kiss him again. It was a slow process, but she wanted to enjoy it, but most of all, she wanted him to enjoy the experience. She stopped kissing his lips and moved to his jawline, neck, and collarbone. Kissing every inch, Renee could feel the struggle he was undergoing to keep his hands down. Grinning, she placed soft butterfly kisses down his chest and abs, enjoying hearing him squirm.
"Renee, I—I don't think I can…" he whispered her name, suddenly sounding urgent. She could hear and practically feel Quasi's desperation to use his hands and the willpower it was taking him not to. She sat up, still straddling him and gently took his hands in hers, placing them on her hips. He groaned as she shifted against his lap, his face flushing.
"Your turn," she whispered into his ear, biting his lobe.
He buried his head into the crook of her neck as his hands roved and explored every inch of her. Their breathing then became rough and fast, passionate, loving. "You're irresistible," he murmured while kissing her.
The night they spent together was truly magical. He took all of her this time, savoring every second. Quasi knew in these moments, that Renee loved him with her eyes as much as her body, their souls mingling in the quiet moments between the action and the stillness. The cold tower already felt warm beneath the blanket they'd taken cover under. It was hard for Quasi to hold back, to make their shared moment last. Wasn't that always the way, so caught between the intoxication of the climax and extending a moment neither wanted to end?
But God, he would try until his dying breath.
Winter in Paris came to pass along; the stupid blizzard never seemed to quit as December dragged onward. Renee awoke one morning, fully intending to spend the day outside in the pleasant cold temperatures in the marketplace with Alice as Christmas drew nearer, but her body had other ideas for her in mind when she woke up that morning. Her stomach contracted so violently that she barely made it outside. She heaved, her stomach emptying until she was certain there was nothing left to bring up. Feeling weak and drained of energy to even move, Renee sank to her knees and retched until only clear liquid was coming. Her throat felt sore from the acidic taste in her mouth. The stench of her own bile filled her nostrils as she surveyed the mess with watery eyes, wiping her mouth with the back of her sleeve.
"Jesus Christ," she moaned. Shaking, she stood, an arm out to steady herself.
"Renee?" called out Quasi worriedly. Flinching, she cringed and turned, a guilty look in her eyes. "Are you all right?"
She shuddered, knowing what she must look like to him. Pale, clammy skin, beads of sweat on her brow, strands of her blonde hair clung to her forehead, damp with sweat. She worked quickly to gather it in a loose French braid and nodded mutely, afraid if she opened her mouth to speak, she might get sick again. "I'm good," she managed.
He frowned and furrowed his brow at her. "You don't look it, Renee, come inside," he murmured, wrapping his arm around her shoulder and steering her inside and back into their bed. "Here," he encouraged, handing her a goblet of water. "Drink that. All of it. You're dehydrated, probably. I'd hate to have to tie up my future wife to our bed because she won't rest," he teased.
He turned to say something else to Renee but was surprised at the wide-eyed look of terror in her brown eyes. "What is it?"
He was met with silence. "Renee?" he prodded worriedly. "Talk to me, love. What's wrong? Do you know something?"
"What day is it?" she whispered, her voice cracking.
"Friday the twelfth," he answered. "Why?" Quasi frowned as he watched Renee tick the days off on her fingertips. "Renee, talk to me," he pleaded, sitting next to her on the edge of their bed. "If you're sick, talk to me, tell me what you need, love, and I'll get it for you."
"Oh fu…damn," she whispered, terrified. "I've missed it…" In agitation, she thumped her palm down her face in frustration. "This—this isn't good."
He could only watch in anguish as her eyes grew round and wide with horror and what little color was left in her cheeks vanished. "Renee, please," he pleaded desperately. "What is it?"
Renee lifted her head to look at him and sat on the edge of the bed, waiting to speak until she'd drank the glass of water and washed the taste of bile from her mouth. She shuddered and set the glass down, a protective hand over her stomach as it lurched again. She fought down the urge and swallowed hard.
Jesus. Here it goes. But what will he think? We never—we never planned for this to happen. We never talked about it. It just…happened. And now we don't have a choice. But I must tell you; I can't keep this a secret from you. Not like this. Tell him the truth; you owe it to your future husband.
"We're having a baby," she whispered, her voice barely audible. She bit her lip and waited for him to process her news. She barely had time to react as he slammed his lips to hers and nearly knocked all the wind from her lungs. His kiss lingered, gentle and passionate. He broke apart first and pulled back to study her face. "Oh, good, I was afraid of how you'd take it," she teased, hoping to make light of her sheer panic, though it was proving futile.
"A baby," he repeated in a daze. "Are we—are you sure you're not dreaming? You're certain? We're going to be parents?" he exclaimed delightedly. But then his smile faltered as he glanced at a vial in her hand.
"What is that?" he demanded, snatching it out of her hand. "Oh, God," he moaned. "Pennyroyal? Do you have something you want to tell me, Renee?" he said, his face paling in anger and hurt.
"I threw it up," Renee began, her voice numb and flat. "I'm pregnant."
"Are you?" he challenged, his blue eyes practically slits.
"I threw it up," she repeated, emphasis on her words.
"Wait a second. You've known this all along, haven't you? How long have you known? Days? Weeks? And you didn't tell me?" He sounded incredibly hurt. "Why the hell didn't you come to me?"
"You want me to bring a baby into this? To live a short, cruel life?"
"We can make this work. We'll figure it out. Shouldn't we try to figure it out? You want this baby, I know you do, Renee."
"Not like this. Not giving birth in a city that's on the brink of collapse, not when its life will hang by a thread every second its born."
"Not even giving it a chance isn't right, either, Renee!" he cried.
"Maybe this is why I didn't want to tell you, Quasi."
"I—I still don't understand why," he said, close to tears now. "You really think I would make you have a baby that you don't want?"
"No," she croaked. "So that if I went through with it, it would be on my conscience, not yours."
"Maybe that's true, but we can't live like this. Is there anything else I should know about? Talk to me, sweetheart, tell me what's going on."
She nodded, only for him to pull her into a rib-crushing hug. "I'm pregnant with your baby, and we're not even married yet. There's no getting away from this. Okay, love, I really think you're overreacting, Quasi. Let go!"
Reluctantly, he relinquished his vice grip on her and pulled back slightly to study her face, to take in her own reaction to her news. "We can change that, darling. Why should we wait? Let's get married this month."
His smile was one of happiness growing. Renee could see how it came from deep inside to light his eyes and spread into every part of him. A person smiles with more than their mouth, and she heard it in his voice, in the choice of his words and the way he relaxed, the utter look of delight in his eyes. It was beautiful. His smile was pure, gentle, unselfish.
"I want us to be married before the baby comes," he insisted, reaching up a hand to brush a lock of blonde hair behind her ear.
"Are you ready?" she asked softly.
He nodded, affection in his blue eyes. "I've been ready since June," he teased, leaning over to kiss her cheek. "What about this month?" he offered suddenly.
Renee smiled gently. "Someone's excited, aren't you?"
Quasi grinned. "I don't want to wait, Renee. I want us to do this right, and you and I need to be married before we become parents. Can you be ready by then?" he challenged happily.
Renee nodded. "Jeanne and Alice are making my wedding dress for me," she admitted sheepishly. "I—I can't sew very well, that was never one of my talents," she confessed. "Last time I checked with them; it was almost finished."
He shook his head, brushing it off. "It's fine, love. But since we're on the topic of your pregnancy, there's something I need you to do."
"Anything," she promised without hesitation. "What is it?"
"Give up drinking," he answered simply. "For our baby. I want you both healthy, and I don't want to worry about the mother of my child drinking herself into a stupor," he said. The dawning look of horror on her face might have been amusing at any other time, but she seemed to deflate and wilt under his unusually stern gaze and nodded numbly.
"All right," she whispered, reaching for his hand. "For the baby," she said quietly. "It won't—it won't be easy, at first."
"That's what I'm here for," he reassured her, gripping her hand tight and giving it a gentle squeeze. "You won't go through it alone, love. I'm right by your side, always. Forever. You can't get rid of me."
Renee grinned; still reveling in the fact they were going to be parents. Her smile faltered as the news hit her. "Oh, hell," she groaned, swallowing hard. "We're having a baby, Quasi. What are we doing, Quasi?" she protested, feeling her panic creep its way from deep within her stomach and up into her throat. "You and I are going to be parents, and I—I don't know the first thing about babies!" she wailed. "What if—what if the child turns out like me, loud and obnoxious and—and as it ages, it drinks too much! What if I can't do this? What if it's born deformed or—or dead? I don't think I can take that!" Renee immediately fell silent as she realized what she'd said. She'd expected Quasi to be disappointed or even upset at her panicked reaction, but to her surprise, he was calm, collected.
"Renee, you doubt yourself too much, love. You are going to be an amazing mother to our baby. I know it. I can see it in your eyes, you already love this baby, and our child isn't even here yet. You and I will be wonderful parents, beloved. Trust me."
"But—but what if we—" she began to stammer out excuses, but Quasi wasn't hearing any of it. He raised a finger to her lips, shushing her. He smiled, cupping her chin in his hand and leaning in for a gentle kiss.
"Enough," he whispered. "You will be amazing. Trust me?"
It was Renee's turn to smile. "Until the end of the world."
Bella was eavesdropping. A common occurrence, those among the villagers would say, but Bella in general preferred not to stick her nose in other people's business. That morning, however, as she was silently wandering the cathedral hallways, she found herself near the bell ringer's tower. She heard voices coming from inside, gradually rising in volume. One voice drew her attention because the young eleven-year-old immediately recognized it to belong to none other than Renee.
Bella told herself it was out of concern for her friend as she lingered by the tower's stairwell and tried to find the source of the noise.
Leaning slightly towards one of the stairs, Bella gulped as she caught snippets of conversation. Things seemed to have calmed down considerably since she had gotten there, for she only heard mutterings. Bella let out a sigh of relief and stepped away. It was only her.
"I see why the villagers keep prattling on that you know everything, child. I wasn't sure whether to believe them or not. I can see now that they were right, and you were lucky our girl up there saved your life, and this is how you choose to repay her act of kindness, by prying into her private affairs with her and our bell ringer? It's despicable. You're snooping." Bella flinched, immediately realizing the voice came not from inside the north bell tower, but rather from directly behind her.
Turning around at great speed, the young girl gasped as she came face to face with Sister Alice Beaumont, a woman whom she felt the most unease with amongst all in the cathedral, aside from Quasimodo himself. Which was saying something really. The nun's brown robes were crisp and neat, and she had, for the moment, discarded her coif, opting to wear her gray hair loose to her shoulders, framing her face in layers. You had to be a certain type of person to pull off such a dull shade of brown. Unassuming, perhaps, useful, with an eloquence. A certain untrustworthy attitude, too.
In response to her rather guarded expression, Sister Alice smirked, as if she had found some hidden amusement in the child's presence. This only made Bella crinkle her brow even harder. Of course, Alice Beaumont was no stranger to her. Bella liked to think she knew everything in the city of Paris. She'd known Alice for all eleven years of her life, or at least, as long as she could remember, but she was perfectly aware she had not really known the nun. Not known then nor now what Sister Alice's true nature was.
Adjusting her posture and toying with the ends of her French braid, Bella did her best to seem as nonchalant as possible, for she did not wish to be the butt of some perverse joke. Noting her change in stance, the young woman mirrored her slightly by staring at her in a serene manner.
She was cautious, that was all. She had to be, given her situation.
"You were snooping," said Sister Alice, her voice sly and knowing as she took a few steps forward, her hands folded behind her back. "Yes?"
"I was not," retorted Bella immediately, contorting her face into that of outrage, until she realized, due to Alice's amused expression, that she was teasing her. She sagged her shoulders in disappointment, trembling.
"I'm sorry. I tease you too much, child," replied Sister Alice, although the nun did not seem sorry at all. "It's just that it's too easy."
"You should not toy with other people's emotions, milady, it never bodes well," said Bella coolly as she pursed her lips into a thin line.
"Yet you find it perfectly acceptable to eavesdrop on private squabbles where such…conversations are taking place," Sister Alice said.
Bella hesitated before replying and her response became that of a more enquiring nature, as she tried to steer the conversation to her advantage.
"How do you know which two people are talking up there?" she asked, pointing towards the north tower stairwell with her thumb.
"It's not hard to make out," Sister Alice snorted quietly, as she stepped not towards Bella, but instead towards the window on the left side of the corridor. As she leaned against the windowsill, Bella noted the somber quality to her voice, despite the fact she wore a benign smile.
"You heard from down the corridor?" inquired Bella, relaxing slightly as Sister Alice stared up at one of the stained-glass windows.
"How could one not?" the nun chirped rather jovially, but still retaining that strange form of melancholy. "Quasi has always had a powerful voice, especially when he yells, one of such commanding, ducal of a nature, my child. When he so wishes it to be, of course."
Bella continued to stare at Notre Dame's nun in a guarded fashion, but she could not deny her curiosity had peaked. Becoming a little curious as to how she would reply, she asked whether she knew who the other person in the bell ringer's tower would be, given he was isolated.
Sister Alice smiled wryly as her posture turned languid, turning her attention back towards Bella, much to her discomfort. "I think we both know the answer to that question, mademoiselle. I would not stand so close to the tower's steps, for you might hear something perhaps a little improper, shall we say, for your pretty little ears," she said softly as she stood and came slowly towards Bella, who was staring at her.
"I do not appreciate your tone, Sister," she replied hoarsely as she took one cautious step away from Alice. "Renee is not that sort of woman, and she is a respectable lady, and should Quasimodo dare to—"
"My, but I was not expecting this!" exclaimed Alice as she came even closer, maintaining her infuriating act of benign innocence, though her eyes implied something much more untoward. "You defend the lady when she saved your life the other day, from having your hand cut off by old man Mansart for stealing an apple, am I right? Renee told me what happened. Though your sudden passion in defending your…new friend, betrays that I am not too far off from the truth, would I be right in saying as much, dear?"
"How dare you!" squeaked Bella, feeling the color rise to her cheeks and flush hot, this time stepping backwards, looking at Sister Alice directly in the eye. "You do not know, being a nun of the cathedral here, how hard it is to survive as a girl in this world outside on the streets. Renee is the most intelligent person within my friends, and she would never allow herself to be used in such a despicable way! You, Sister, tease about things that should not be teased about! Take it back!"
Eleven-year-old Bella took several deep breaths as she waited for her thoughts to catch up to her emotions. She could not quite comprehend why she had let herself get so carried away on a matter that had so little to do with her personally. All she had been doing was coming by to see if Renee was awake, and if she would like to join her for breakfast. But somehow, this nun had struck a chord within her. Looking up cautiously, she could already feel another bout of anger rising within herself as she imagined wiping the amused expression, which she now undoubtedly supported, clean off her face. Her breath caught as her gaze connected with the nun's, and Alice was much closer than anticipated.
"I…" stammered Bella, her voice faint as she felt for the door behind her with a loose hand. "I did not mean to offend Quasi, I just…"
"No," Sister Alice sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose with her thumb and forefinger, as though she were getting a splitting headache.
Bella let out a haggard breath as Sister Alice looked up towards her. "Nevertheless, I should not have shouted at you, Sister," said Bella in response, having finally found her voice again. "It is just…I am cautious, and I do not think that the lady Renee would ever accept such advances from your bell ringer. if he were to ever…to ever …"
Alice lifted her head silently, a serious expression her face, utterly transforming her from the playful gossip fiend that she was into that of a mature, beautiful woman, almost like a mother to Bella and Renee.
"You must have heard quite a great deal about Quasimodo over the years," said Sister Alice, her voice soft but firm. "I must warn you, however, that it is ill-advisable to believe in gossip from your fellow villagers. Quasi is not quite what people paint him to be, and I can assure you, my dear, that he would never harm Renee in that way. He is not that sort of man, despite what proof there is to make him seem it…" Her voice trailed off and she fell silent and glanced upwards at the sound of barreling light footsteps came from the tower stairwell. Renee was hurrying down the tower steps, dressed in a beautiful dark blue velvet dress with long flared tow sleeves and a simple pair of brown boots, a worried expression etched on her beautiful features,
Quasi trailing close behind her, looking utterly distraught and worried, wringing his gloved hands together. He froze when he saw Sister Alice and Bella there. "A—Alice," he stammered, his face blanching. "Bella," he said stiffly, and it did not escape the child's attention that he stiffened and straightened his posture, squaring his shoulders at seeing her again. "I—I did not expect to see you here. It's early yet. What are you doing up?" Quasimodo opened his mouth to say something further, but the sound of the cathedral's front large double oak doors slamming shut interrupted whatever he had been about to say next, and he flinched.
Sister Alice stared, having eyes only for their bell ringer, ignoring Bella's wide eyes next to her. "Do I want to even know, boy?" she sighed. She furrowed her brow into a frown as the bell ringer bit his lip, hesitating. He glanced between Alice and the child a few times, before relenting and beckoning Alice to come closer. He leaned forward and whispered something inaudible into her ear, Alice's eyes widening.
"How far do you want to cross this friendship boundary?" he asked.
Alice chuckled. "Since when did we ever have boundaries?" Her smile fell as she realized he was serious. "All right. Leave out the details."
"Well…" he began. "Everything last night was fine, and our…"
"Quasi…" she prompted. "If I'm to help you, I need to know more. I know I'm going to regret asking this question, but…why?"
Now it was his turn to look embarrassed. "I—I guess it just takes some time for my um…strength to adjust to new…situations." He fell silent and grimaced at Sister Alice's horrified expression.
Alice stared; her blue eyes wide. "Wow. Awkward factor eight," she joked weakly. "Um, so basically what is you're saying is that…you're afraid is that, in the heat of the moment, you might…ugh, please don't make me finish this sentence, Quasi, I don't think I can in front of her." She gestured to the little girl, who was completely oblivious.
Quasi frowned and leaned in close, cupping his hands around Alice's ear and whispered it into her ear to prevent Bella from hearing such language. Her little ears did not need to hear this kind of talk at her age. "Well, see, that's the thing, I don't know what would happen," he whisper-hissed through gritted teeth, his gaze flitting between the child and Alice. "I mean…if I couldn't control myself, then I don't know—"
"Okay, you know what!" cried Alice, throwing her hands up in exasperation. "That right there is something that can never be unseen. Look, you can shake my hand without crushing it, right? And I know you would never hurt the girl intentionally, so what is the deal, Quasi?"
"I guess I…I don't know. Now it's different that we're…courting."
Alice stared, her blue eyes wide and round as a dinner plate. "Oh, wow, I didn't know last night was it. Are you sure? Then why did she run out of here like her life depended on…Oh. That," she whispered lowly, sounding breathless. Then she frowned and smacked the redheaded bell ringer upside the head, much to his chagrin.
"ALICE!" he roared, forgetting himself for a moment. "That hurt!" he exclaimed violently, wincing as he rubbed the back of his head.
The nun crinkled her nose in disgust at the bell ringer's outburst. "Not as much as it's going to hurt her if anything happens to her, I can guarantee that much," the nun snapped coldly. "Quasi, you moron! How many times have I told you to be careful and mind your surroundings? Were you seriously not paying attention when it happened? Didn't I tell you, that's what you're supposed to do when you…" growled Sister Alice darkly under her breath, risking one more glance towards the closed cathedral doors, where the young blonde disappeared.
The nun glanced back towards their guest, who was waiting patiently for an explanation, and the child was dismayed when the nun waved her along. "I think it's time you head on home, dear, this conversation isn't for the likes of someone your age," she said, sounding utterly exhausted as she glanced towards the church's bell ringer, who still wore that same expression of terror on his sort-of handsome features.
"But—" She started to protest, until the nun shot her a withering look, as did Quasi. Fearing for her safety, she curtly nodded and disappeared, following the same path that her new friend had taken only moments ago.
Sister Alice stifled a groan as she turned back to Quasi. "Sorry about that. I was not expecting to deal with an intruder this early in the morning. Now that little matter is settled," she sighed, wearily grabbing Quasi by the sleeve of his forest green tunic and dragging him towards the kitchen. "You have a little jaunt in your step by the way you're walking, and despite this little tidbit of news you just shared with me, that was I ill equipped for, that I think the two of you can get a handle on this before it becomes worse, you're going to spill copious details of a glass of wine while I cut your hair," she said lovingly, reaching up and tousling his hair. "You were ah…up there a long time? I trust she performed well. You know, you really should learn to keep the noise down, boy. I understand that you had a good time, son, but really. The sound in your north bell tower travels. I heard everything…"
If he had thought he was red before, he was quite mistaken. Alice snorted as his face soon almost matched the same red tones of her hair.
"Did she like it?" Alice asked, point-blank and blunt in her questions.
"I…yes," he stammered lamely, forcing himself to sit down so Alice could trim his hair. "I—I think so, but how could I have been so careless? I've put her and myself in a compromising position, Alice!"
She snorted, rolling her eyes. "That's not the only position she was in last night. Sounds like from what I could tell, she did all of the work last night, didn't she then," she cackled wickedly, and upon seeing his dark glower that he shot her way as he swiveled his head to look at her, her expression turned much more solemn and she assumed the expression more appropriate to that of someone near a sick friend's death bed. "I mean, it's going to be fine. There are…certain precautions she can take, but would it really be the worst thing for you two if it were to happen?"
Quasi fell silent, a sullen expression marred on his face. "We both know what would happen if we allowed to happen now, and it's not right, Sister. It would be cursed, just like me, Alice, I'm sure of it, Al," he growled. "Just look at me," he said, anguished, as he gestured to his deformities. "What kind of life would that be if I…if we…Alice?"
"Oh, hush, you're not that bad." A beat. A pause. "Well, okay, I'm not going to lie to you, there are parts of you that are rather ah…unsightly, but it's really just your eye, the rest of you just fine, and I think that if it were to happen, then yes, you and this girl would have to be careful, we've seen how cruel people can be, but if I had to hazard a guess, I think that if it were to happen naturally, then it would look like her, I would wager money on it. I really think you've nothing to fear from this, but the girl has spunk, I think, and can take care of herself if anything were to happen if she decided to…well, must I say it? I don't think it needs it," she added sadly
. "But what does she want? I take it by the way she ran out of here, that she was doing this more so for your benefit, not hers," she snapped, rather slyly. "Have you asked the girl what she wants? What does Renee think about all of this, huh?"
"She wants to keep it. A—at first, I approved, but what if it kills her? Do you really think that I—that I could love it, if it turned out like me, and it somehow killed her?" Quasi asked Sister Alice in disbelief.
Now it was Alice's turn to look surprised. "I never said anything about that," she began, choosing her words cautiously. "I don't think—"
But Quasi merely grunted in response. "I don't think I can. Not yet," he said shakily, running a hand through his freshly trimmed hair. "She—we're not married, Alice, and it wouldn't be right, before we're married. You've seen how people react to me. They would talk. About us both."
"So?" asked Alice incredulously. "Since when did you care what they think? And more importantly, you've not answered my question. Would it really be so inappropriate if you were to keep it? I know the two of you would be wonderful—" she started to say, but Quasi cut her off.
"No," he answered immediately, his face draining of color. "Not until…after marriage," he finished, lowering his voice an octave. He turned in his chair and downed his glass of red wine in one go and shuddered, fixing the nun with an unusually cold stare that was unlike him. "Alice, I swear, if a single word of this conversation gets out…"
"It won't." She made the sign of the Hail Mary over her heart. "Cross my heart and hope to die. This conversation will not leave this room, but if you like, I can go get Brother Giovanni for confession?"
He blanched and he immediately shook his head. "No, no, I'm fine." Quasi fell silent for several long minutes, anxiously weaving his knuckles between his fingers, and Alice noticed affectionately the young man would need a new pair of gloves soon. His were becoming tattered and worn with age and starting to become frayed at the seams. "I…"
Sister Alice felt a dark little chuckle escape her lips. "I think the best thing that you can do now is just let things play out naturally. Fate will out, as they say, and if it's meant to be then so it shall come to pass. And if not, well, when you both are ready, you'll know what to do about it."
She smiled at Quasi in a way that she hoped was reassuring, and she was relieved and felt the tension in her shoulders relax as he returned the smile that lit up his features and, for that brief moment whenever he did smile that genuine, kind, warm smile, made him look almost normal.
"Treat your woman like a queen, I always say, and given the nature of our conversation, I think you fully intend to make an honest woman out of her, boy. I can't see you keeping her as a mistress and not doing something about it. Nope, you're not that kind of man," Alice said with a sigh, and dug into the pockets of her brown robes, fumbling until she found what she was looking for. "Hold out your hand, boy. Do it now."
Confused, he furrowed his brow and shot her a quizzical look, but did so, and began to splutter something incoherent when he realized she dropped two beautiful but simple yellow gold wedding rings in his hand.
"They were Father Adam's. He gave them to me to give to you when you were ready. And no, I promised him, I'm not saying anything. You want the story of how he got them, you ask him not me," she explained, noticing the hurt look in his brilliant blue eyes. "He insisted."
"I…" His gaze faltered and he fell silent.
Sister Alice expected him to say something, but she was not prepared for the man to embrace him in a crushing hug that almost broke her left ribcage. "Quasi, calm down, son! I can't breathe! Let go!" she managed to gasp out, coughing for air.
He immediately relinquished his hold on her and took a faltering step back. "Sorry, sorry!" he managed, his gaze dropping to study the rings. He weighed them in his palm, feeling their weight, the tips of his fingers grazing over the top of the rings. "They're flawless, truly beautiful, Alice. But…are you sure?" he asked, looking up at her with a pained look.
She waved him on irritably. "Yes, yes, of course I'm sure! How many times have I said you deserve your own happiness, my son? Keep them, and ask her when the time is right, and please, for my sake, install a door at the top of the tower. I think all of us would appreciate it."
Quasi shot her a lopsided grin that she returned and silently watched him vacate the kitchens and head back up towards his tower. Still, as she left, the nun could not help shaking off the feeling that something was wrong, that there was something the young woman was not telling her. The dread crept over Alice like an icy chill, numbing her brain. In this frozen state, her mind only offered one thought regarding the young bell ringer who had practically come to mean like a son to her over the years, and this girl who had so swiftly stolen his heart. That it was soon, whatever 'soon' happened to be, and there would be no stopping it. She felt like a cow being herded for slaughter, only the cow did not know where it was going, and Alice did.
Straight into Death's path, where it waited with outstretched arms.
