Title: Whispers in the wind
Chapter: 7 -- Revenge
Shadow was not one to think that his son would turn so easily on him for a mere target of his. Then again, he had put himself in this position by forcing his son to come closer to Françoise. Closer then needed, he realized. What had caused him to get Joe so involved with a stranger? He had other methods of reaching his targets, why suddenly have this impulse to use his son? Suddenly, he remembered. The day he saw his son arrive home with a look on his face that he could not place --he knew. It had tugged at the strings of the brittle remains of his conscience. It had begged to his remorse, plundered him in compassion. These emotions were not something that Shadow desired. They belonged to Joe. Shadow could not afford to have them settle in his mind, and create a heart that he himself had frozen and destroyed. That heart had made him weak. In the moment when he was about to make his first kill--it made wisps of regret pass through his mind. It had made him love.
Shadow could never hold Joe's mother in a killers regard. Somehow, knowing his past, his present, and what would he would do with his future; she remained at his side. Somehow, she managed to persevere as a mother and wife without giving the slightest indication of living a life that differed from what she could have possible dreamed up. All these things had made Shadow soft. They had made him weak, vulnerable. Once his wife had vanished he put them away and so, making him the murder that he was. For the first few days after her death, he could not bear to look at Joe's infantile face. They were too much of a burden of innocence upon his breaking heart. Joe, he was the only thing that kept Shadow human. That made the nausea slightly impassive when he killed. Joe was the reason Shadow lived and killed. He would never tell this information to Joe. Joe would feel responsible for the lives lost at his fathers hand and he would isolate himself from the world. Shadow had done it once, and he could not allow Joe to do as well. He would not loose the only piece of humanity that was left in him. He was the only shard in his life that reminder of her.
This was the hardest thing Joe had ever done. He had gently knocked on the door and almost immediately, the sobs discontinued. A few seconds passed by and the door slowly creaked opened. Joe could not explain the impulse that came over him, but, he embraced Francoise. Joe let Francoise sob on his shoulder that was soaked by the next few minutes. How could he tell her that her grandfather was dead? What kind of heartless monster would he be? Later, he would tell her later. In truth, would later ever come?
"I'm sorry, I--I didn't mean to do all this. I should just leave."
Francoise said while more tears emerged from her eyes, her dried tears stained face becoming moist again. She was trembling, sobs wracking through her body. She found herself trusting the son of her murder, her classmate, her friend. She felt that the situation was completely bizarre.
"No, I will help you, Joe insisted, after all this is my father's doing. I think we should go somewhere else, do you have any more relatives you could stay with?"
He asked gently, speaking to her as if he was speaking to a small child.
"No, Francoise said as she shook her head.
Her splitting headache began to alleviate itself once she heard his question. Then, terror consumed her. What would he do with her now? Dispose of her somewhere? If he did, Francoise could not think that it was unusual, for she was just being a burden to him.
"That's okay, we can go to a friend of mines house."
Joe said tugging on Francoise's arm.
"No, I won't allow my misfortune to contaminate more people."
Francoise replied, defiance edging into her weak and determined voice.
"Do you really have a choice? Stay here and we both die."
Francoise looked at Joe, bewildered by the coldness of his statement. But she understood the truth that stood from it.
"You don't have to stay. Leave, your father won't kill you, I'm sure. I'm his target. You really don't have to endanger yourself this way."
Francoise could not explain why this sudden outburst occurred, but she felt as if she should know rather why Joe was helping her in the first place. After all, her death would make no difference to him. She wasn't his lifelong friend. As a matter of fact, they had just met recently. Why would he be risking his life for her?
Joe looked at his tiny pocket watch and watch nimbly as the main dial struck at noon. They were in a good advantage in time. This was an immense relief to Joe seeing as it was the only thing that they had an advantage on. He quietly looked unto the face of a sleeping Francoise next to him. They had boarded a train to the house of an old friend of Joe's. Her father dealt with the police and as much as putting an order against his father hurt Joe, he felt that now more then ever he needed to put Francoise as his first priority. The same question that had troubled Francoise began to bother Joe. Why was it that he was doing all this?
He had met her as the result of a day dreaming and clumsily bumping into her. Only to go home and find that he must assist his father in killing her. Then to find himself hiding her away from his father who could only stare in disbelief as he ran away with Francoise. Where would they go from now? Joe could only desperately hope that the police could help him. Otherwise—he and death would become fast acquaintances, and soon.
He felt his eyes falter and before he knew it, he had too fallen asleep.
When Joe awoke, he felt a grumbling in his stomach. Francoise could only contain a small smile as she heard the grumble. Much too both their relief, a kind woman came offering food. They took without hesitating and began to eat in silence. There wasn't much to say after all. It was Francoise who broke the silence.
"Are you sure, that this friend of yours, will—"
"Yes, she will welcome you."
Joe said without hesitating. There was some truth in this of course. Joe was certain that his friend would be kind enough to accept a stranger in need of help. Nonetheless there was queasiness in his stomach that ceased to desist. Everything would turn out fine. It had to.
Shadow was on a rampage. He tore apart the solemn house that Francoise and Joe had only accompanied hours before. He smashed anything in reach. His fury could only leave traces everywhere he went.
'Where are they? How far could two children have gone? Joe, what have you done! You knew she was my target, why are you doing this to me?'
These thoughts raged in his head for a minute or two until his temper simmered down and he slouched himself against the battered wall. He would find them, and then, he would have no mercy.
"So we have an agreement."
Scarl said to the hooded figure that had demanded to see him a few minutes ago.
"Yes, we do. He will die at our hands. The boy will be killed and the girl will be brought to you."
"Very well, do not cross me, old man. Be sure to report tomorrow at the same time at the place I told you."
And with that, he left.
The hooded man took his hood when Scarl was out of sight to reveal the relieved face of the old Sage, Gilmore.
'Well, if they thoughts they could get rid of me so easily, I'd tell them they've got something else coming! Why would the child be in my hands if I was that weak? I feigned a good death. You're not rid of me Shadow. If I play my cards right, this fool of Scarl will get you out of my way and Francoise will be safe. That is, if I can find her…'
Francoise looked vacantly outside the window, her eyes shifted to the mist of the clouds.
'He's been so kind to me. I could never thank him enough. Joe, I'm afraid that when this is all over I might never see you again.'
Unknown to her, Joe had the same torturous thoughts. Little did they know, that they would in fact, face much more together.
Authors Note: Sorry, the last time I updated this was about ages! I do have some good news though; I was re-reading through Reigning Memories, and I decided despite my earlier commentary; that the story will have a sequel. I hope you guys like it! R/R