Antonio awakened in the hospital with a bandage wrapped around his middle. Dark, placid eyes stared down at him from above, stopping the seemingly glaring light from hitting his own eyes. "What are you doing here, Mieuret?" he asked, still a little dazed from the shot. "I thought you were dead. Why come back for me anyway?" Mieuret smirked, his face covered in shadow now.

"It's my duty, remember, mon ami?" he replied. "After all, you already saved me from that bitch once." As Mieuret revealed his face, Antonio smiled in recognition of an old friend.

"She took me and played me until I was on the ground-all in five minutes. How can you get along with someone like that?" Mieuret smirked and shook his head, offering a hand.

"Now that she's quit killing people, Mireille's willing to make up a little time with old friends," he said, helping Antonio to sit up.

It was amazing how fast that young woman had grown up and become so cold. When he had first met her, she was a girl in a woman's body, still struggling to find her way. But now he had no chance of breaking through that icy barrier that she seemed to have built around herself. "Les fleurs de mort will survive through the winter and defend the ideals of la famille d'Ammoure," he said to himself, reciting that which he had been taught. "And then the Chosen will reveal himself." Mieuret smiled at his old friend's musings, thinking it to be merely a side effect caused by the force of the bullet.

"When will I be out of the hospital?" Antonio asked foggily. Images were flashing before him:his mother lying dead in her bed, her husband trying to bring her back by pressing a blanket against her to stop the flow of the blood, Mireille's young face as she coldly threatened to return if he let anyone know that he had seen her. Then he saw the gun turn toward his leg and shoot at least two bullets in deep. So she hadn't wanted to kill him, had she? Though he called himself a madman for it, Antonio knew deep within that he still admired Mireille's beauty and skill. After all, she had been Altena's Daughter of Corsica before she turned on the Soldats, which were her own point of origin.

Mieuret's figure had taken on the form of a hunter at the ready now, as opposed to the time when they were younger, and he was a slightly heavy-set man who seemed above even touching a weapon. "So you are going to carry out your assigned task?" Antonio asked, quirking an eyebrow. "Even though I would prefer that we lie low for a while longer, Livia wishes it done."

"We will first see if the target can be used instead of killed," Mieuret replied with a dangerous smile. "After all, we are dealing with a very dangerous person, or so my sources of information say." Antonio nodded and brushed a hand through his hair nervously. If this person was so dangerous, then maybe one of Mieuret's skilled men should go, and not Mieuret himself. Antonio refused to let an outsider get caught up in the power struggles of la famille d'Ammoure. It had happened once before and he refused to let it happen again.

Pierre LaMont had been one of Antonio's best friends, but then he took out an important member of the Soldats, and everything collapsed. Eventually, Chloe had killed him in the dead of night, leaving his wife destitute and depressed. That night, the wife, Monique, had been out with two of her friends. She came home to find her husband dead in his bed, killed with a large knife. It was best that nobody else was killed because Antonio was unable to make the kill himself. "Just be quick and try not to sggravate our situation," Antonio said gravely. "I'll be on my feet as soon as I can, so then I'll be able to help." Mieuret nodded and then looked up from his seat at the open door.

There was Livia, her girlish face strained with worry. "Antonio, what happened?" she asked, more worried than anything. "How did you end up getting shot like that?" He looked upward, meeting those liquid eyes that gazed at him affectionately.

"I guess I said something to aggravate her. After I made my proposal, she shot me and that was that." Livia shook her head and then stood erect.

"Mieuret," she said firmly. "Go to your suite and prepare to carry out your task. Tonight you strike, before this goes farther than it has to." Antonio was about to protest, but he laid back his head submissively, looking forward to the time when he could sleep.

"Have you ever thought that maybe we could have stopped Pierre from doing what he did?" Livia asked, playing with a lock of dark hair that had fallen from her ponytail. "He was a good friend to both of us, but he sacrificed more than we ever will be able to. You know, Monique said that when she found Pierre's body, he was smiling."

"I heard," Antonio nodded, "and sadly enough, it is our destiny as part of House Ammoure to do these things. That is why the ruling women of House Ammoure are known as les Fleurs de Mort, the Flowers of Death, because that is what they rule. Yet unlike Altena's Noir, they are not harnessed by any priestess. Thus, they are free to follow whatever cause they wish to pursue." He had been taught about that ever since the day of Livia's birth, and had treasured and hated that knowledge ever since.