I was making my way slowly through the garden when I heard the "Bang". With that sound, my pace quickened and I moved to an almost-sprint. I arrived at the house a few minutes later, out of breath with my hair flying into my eyes. Panicking, I swatted it away, looking for the source of the gunshot. The Vicomte's car was gone, a dark shaped sprawled out next to where it had been. I rushed over to it, gasping when I realized who it was. Giles, not Erik. Giles. I screamed, hands flying up to cover my mouth. Good god! I dropped on my knees next to him, searching for a pulse. I found one. Exhaling, I bent over him, gently tapping the side of his face. "Giles? Giles?" I hissed. He groaned softly, eyes drifting open. He looked up at me, blearily.
"W-wha?" His eyes were glazed over, as if he wasn't completely here. I immediately began searching for a gunshot wound, surprised to find none.
"Giles, Giles," His eyes were drifting closed again and I tapped the side of his face again. "I need you to look at me, look at me." He squinted at me, looking pained, as if the mere act of focusing on something was excruciating. "Where are you injured? Where?"
"Injured?" He mumbled, shaking his head. He went scarlet, seeming to partly come to his senses. He pushed himself onto his elbows. "No, Mme. 'M not injured. I -uh- I fainted."
"Oh," I laughed, even though it wasn't funny. "Well, that's good." A beat. "Why did you faint?" He was beginning to depart from this world again.
"Gun," he muttered, eyes slipping closed. "Vicomte. Had a gun." He closed his eyes, falling back onto the pavement.
"Giles. Giles." I shook him gently. "Where did the Vicomte go? Giles." He remained unresponsive. I sighed. I needed to get him into the house, to a doctor. He must've hit his head hard on the pavement- maybe he had a concussion? Carefully, I heaved him up onto the shoulder, stumbling as I dragged him towards the house. He was quite a bit taller than me, making the task almost impossible. Somehow, I managed it though, and flopped Giles down on the sofa before collapsing into an armchair, panting. What did I do next? I could call for Meg, or Mme. Giry, but it was their night off. Meg had mentioned something about going out on the town. I called for Erik, was he still in the house? There was no response. Perhaps he was asleep. He was a heavy sleeper.
"Giles," I whispered, standing and slapping the side of the boy's face. He blinked into consciousness. "Do you and your… cousin have a phone in your cottage? What's the number?" It would be in the staff directory, but this way seemed quicker. I needed to contact Alexandre, he was the only one I knew was home. He appeared to be well read and intelligent, he certainly acted like it, and I needed help. Giles mumbled a string of numbers and I moved over to the phone, punching them in. Alexandre picked up on the third ring.
"Hello?"
"Alexandre?"
"Yes, Mme?"
"I need you to come up to the house, right away."
"Why? What's happened? Are you or M. hurt? Is Giles-"
"Just… come to the house, Alexander. As soon as possible." I hung up, brushing my hands together as if to dust them off. Now to find my husband. "Erik!" I called, rushing up the stairs. "Erik?" Giles mumbled something on the sofa. I turned to him. "What?"
"M. Devereux… he is not here…" He had his arms draped over his eyes, pathetically. "He left… with the Vicomte… and the gun…" I felt my stomach drop.
"What?"
"M. Devereux left with the Vicomte. At gunpoint… I think. It's hard to remember. Everything is hazy and my head pounds…"
"Giles, do you know where the Vicomte and Erik went? Where did they go?" But Giles was already gone, slipped away. Dammit. I began to pace, biting my nails, waiting for the door to the front hall to open. Once Alexandre got here I could go, take the car and find my husband. Why did the Vicomte have a gun? Revenge, a small voice in the back of my head whispered. Revenge for Christine's death. So Erik had done something to her, or at least the Vicomte believed he had. Had I married a murderer?
The door flew open, revealing a haggard Alexandre. He looked half-crazed, like a madman. He slammed it behind him, sighing as he noticed me. "Mme," He crossed the threshold and was upon me in a minute. "What has happened?" He glanced towards the other room, where Giles was lying on the sofa. Alexandre followed my gaze and swore, colorfully. He glanced at me again, as if I was to blame for this. I continued to pick at cuticles. Alexandre rushed over to Giles, dropping to his knees behind his… partners body. "Go get smelling salts," he instructed me, not looking up from the floor. "Smelling salts or something else strong smelling. Also get a cold compress. Did he hit his head?"
"Yes." Alexandre nodded, muttering inaudibly to himself. I left, and returned a moment later with a bottle of smelling salts (from the medicine cabinet) and a cold cloth. Alexandre took the cloth but not the salts. "Don't you need these?" He shook his head.
"I thought you might," he mumbled. Then, louder, he added. "You look like you're about to keel over." He laughed drily, at his own joke before draping the cloth over Giles' forehead. Then, he sat back cradling his head in his hands.
"Aren't you not supposed to let him sleep?" I had read something about that once. Alexandre looked at me.
"He's not asleep." In response, Giles groaned and muttered something about cats. "He's just not… aware." We sat in awkward silence for a moment, the only sound being the ticking grandfather clock.
"I'm leaving," I finally blurted. I needed to find Erik. Alexandre looked up at me, one eyebrow raised.
"You really trust us not to steal anything?"
"Giles, don't let Alexandre steal anything." Alexandre snorted.
"Too late…" Giles muttered.
Sorry for the short-er chapter, just wanted to let you all know I wasn't dead. I last few months have been pretty hectic, school started again, along with Cross Country, and to top that all off- my friends decided that we should all write short-stories for Halloween, so that's what I spent most of October doing and I didn't even get to share it because we ran out of time. But, c'est la vie. On a happier note, a new adaptation of Rebecca came out on Netflix and while it couldn't hold a candle to the Hitchcock version, it was still pretty good.
Special thanks to the Guest who left a review, saying that they missed this story. Your words made my day!