Riddles; for many of us; a riddle can be different things. Riddles are presented to us throughout the greater part of our lives. It is often our sense of duty as well as an innate curiosity that leads to us to want to solve the mystery offered before our eyes. For Erik, Marie-Christine was indeed a riddle, the likes of which he had never seen. Each time he thought he a clue to as to her agenda, things would change. She was like an ever-changing puzzle, incredibly intriguing and yet difficult to solve. Now, as she lay crying gently in his arms, Erik was left to wonder the simplest question of all…why?
"Shhh…" he soothed, but it seemed to do little good. Then, Erik did the unexpected. He sang. It was the simplest of lullabies; something he remembered from his childhood. Madame Giry used to sing it to him; easing the loneliness he felt on those cold nights in the Opera Populaire. Slowly, Erik brought his left hand to the right side of Marie-Christine's face; caressing it gently; watching as the pain which tormented her earlier; slowly dissipate.
Marie-Christine was soon asleep. Erik watched as she slept in his arms. She clung to him much like a newborn child would cling to a mother. He sighed as he looked at the woman, cradled in his arms. Marie-Christine was so beautiful. She was small, perhaps standing a little more than five feet. She had the most piercing green eyes. Her long auburn hair gently framed her face; the soft curls further accentuating her radiant beauty. And then, there were those lips. They were full with a strong sense of something that Erik couldn't quite put his finger on at the moment. Gently, he traced his finger along the outline of her lips. She only offered a small murmur in response. Erik contemplated kissing those lips. It was as if they begged to be touched.
Although Erik longed to taste the sweetness in Marie-Christine's lips, he stopped short of actually carrying out the thought. At the moment, a battle was raging within Erik's consciousness. On the one hand, he knew he needed to flee Paris as quickly as possible. It wouldn't be long before the mob caught up with him once more; and he had no intention of simply surrendering to their bloodlust. Oddly enough and within a day, Marie-Christine had instilled something in Erik he thought he lost; his will to live. Erik also wanted to learn more about this very intriguing woman. Finally, he decided that one day more would not matter.
Carefully, and with some discomfort to his shoulder, Erik managed to carry Marie-Christine back to her room. Much like a father would take care of his daughter; Erik pulled the blankets back and gently placed Marie-Christine in her bed, tucking her in for the night. He left the room, but not before placing a small but chaste kiss on her forehead.
Morning came and with it, Erik woke to find Marie-Christine working busily in the kitchen of her abode.
"Good morning. Did you sleep well?" She asked.
Erik was a bit confused. Marie-Christine was behaving as if last night had never occurred. Glancing at the wall, he did notice the same small photo from last night; now positioned back up on the wall again.
"Who is she?" Erik asked.
Marie-Christine sighed, wishing she could block out the memories.
"That's Jeannette, my sister. She's dead." Marie-Christine paused for a moment, fighting back some impending tears.
"What happened?" Erik pressed further. He did not want to cause Marie-Christine pain by bringing back what were obviously some painful memories. However, he still wanted to learn what he could from this mysterious woman and their chance encounter.
"She was murdered," Marie-Christine responded as she began her story.
Marie-Christine's story was that of happiness that eventually turned to tragedy. Erik had the time and so he listened as she recounted the events of her childhood, her sister, and the unique and ultimately cursed gift both she and her sister possessed.
"I was born in a small village on the outskirts of Lyon. The makeup of Europe was constantly changing and so I don't even know if my birthplace still exists. Jeannette and I were twins, fraternal but twins nonetheless. While growing up, my father could tell there was something unique about us. He couldn't quite put his finger on it, but he knew we were special. There was one thing that we could do, that no other children in our village could accomplish. We were able to communicate with each other without moving our lips. Our father called it, 'twin talk.' Later I would learn that my talent actually had a name. It was called . . . "
"Telepathy," Erik interjected. Although many people dismissed the elements of the paranormal, often equating them with witchcraft, Erik learned from past dealings with the gypsies and others, that nothing was impossible.
"Yes telepathy; however our abilities were not limited to this one talent. Eventually we developed our skills in moving objects with our minds. It was about that time that a group known as "Fleur-de-lys" became interested in my sister and me."
"Fleur-de-lys?" Erik asked. He actually knew the answer, but he wanted to test Marie-Christine to see what information she would provide. Even though his attraction to Marie-Christine was growing more and more, his natural instinct to distrust seemed to always rear its form, no matter what the situation.
"Yes. Let me explain. The Fleur-de-lys is actually a group of elite assassins and gatherers of information. Their services are often sold to the highest bidder; whatever a client desires, his wish shall be granted; whether it is an assassination of a political figure or simply the company of a woman for the evening. Have you ever heard of them before?"
"No." Erik lied. He wanted to see how much further information she would provide to him.
"Well, there is one unique thing about the Fleur-de-lys that not many know." Marie-Christine continued.
"What's that?" Erik asked.
"Well the Fleur-de-lys is actually a group composed entirely of women. I'm not sure how it actually started. I do know that they are recruited and trained at a young age."
"Were you and your sister recruited?" Erik asked, not liking where this might be going.
"Actually, I was given to them by of all people my father. He was actually very naïve. My mother died shortly after giving birth to Jeannette and me. My father did his best to raise us. However, out telepathic skills combined with telekinesis was too much for him to handle. People in the village talked. They called us horrible names. Father feared for our safety. Then one night, a woman came and offered my father a chance to fulfill all of his dreams that he so desperately wanted for us."
"Who was this woman?" Erik asked.
"I don't know. I was only fifteen. I only remember that she wore a dark cloak. She promised that both I and my sister would be cared for at an exclusive school for gifted children. She said that the school only allowed girls and we would receive the finest of education. My father, not knowing any better, literally handed both my sister and me to this woman."
"What happened next?" Erik questioned.
"The moment we arrived, Jeannette and I knew that something was wrong. Over a period of months, we were slowly indoctrinated to the teachings of the Fleur-de-lys. We were told that if we did not comply, our father would be killed. Jeannette and I felt we had little choice. We studied hard and learned all that Fleur-de-lys could teach us. We were fearful for our father, but Jeannette and I both knew that knowledge was power. It would simply be a question of waiting for the right moment. We gradually became skilled in hand to hand combat; healing remedies and medical treatment among other things. When we reached eighteen, we were made full members of the Fleur-de-lys. However, we had one final ceremony to make our initiation into the group complete."
"What was that?" Erik had heard some things about the Fleur-de-lys but nothing about an initiation ceremony.
Marie-Christine paused once more, taking a sip from a glass of water that Erik had placed before her. "Every four years, Fleur-de-lys kidnaps a man for the rebirth."
"The rebirth?" Erik interrupted.
"Yes. A man is kidnapped. Usually it is someone that the Fleur-de-lys was hired to assassinate. Once they withdraw all of the information they need, he is drugged and given to the high priestess."
"What do you mean given?"
"In order for the Fleur-de-lys to grow, they have two options for recruiting new members. One is to mislead someone like my father into literally giving away his children. Remember, only girls are taken. Males have little use." Marie-Christine continued.
"So what is the other method?" Erik questioned.
"Well, you remember the man that is taken every four years?" Marie-Christine reminded him.
"Yeah . . ."
"Well, once he is drugged, he is brought to the bedchamber of the high priestess.
There, she mates with him. Once she is done. He is taken and placed into a wicker basket that is in the shape of a coffin. I'll never forget what happened the night of my initiation."
"Go on . . ." Erik urged.
Marie-Christine took a deep breath. She did her best to hold back the tears that were welling up in her eyes. "They set the basket afire. They feel that that the spirit of the man would guide the Fleur-de-lys for the next four years. The child that would be born from their union was to become the next high priestess. Erik at my initiation, I watched the man die. It wasn't until I heard his cries of agony that I knew who they had taken. Erik, they killed my father. THEY KILLED MY FATHER!"
It was at that moment, that Marie-Christine broke down once more. She buried her head into his chest. Erik sighed. He hated to push, but he needed answers if he was to know what to do next.
"Marie-Christine, I know this is hard, but I need to know, how did you escape? What happened to your sister?"
Marie-Christine raised her head, stifling a sniffle in the process. "Actually, once my sister and I watched them murder my father, Jeannette and I decided now was the time. We didn't know where we would go, but there had to be some place better that this hell hole. So, about a month or so after our initiation, Jeannette and I made our escape. What we didn't know, was that we were being watched. Apparently the Fleur-de-lys doesn't readily trust their new members and so they are observed for a period of anywhere from one to two years. On the night of our escape, Jeannette was killed with a knife to her back. I began to go back for her, when she cried out for me to run. She sacrificed herself for me. She said I had a gift that could heal many and so I should put it to good use."
"What do you mean a gift to heal?"
"It's better if I show you. Come over here. Lie face down and remove your shirt." Marie-Christine instructed as she pointed to the bedroom. Erik was a little bit hesitant, but he complied.
"When I was with the Fleur-de-lys, my sister referred to my gift as the 'touch.' I'm not sure how it actually works, but this is what it is.
With these words, Marie-Christine sat next to Erik, who was now lying face down on the bed. Placing her hands on his back, Marie-Christine began to run her hand up and down the length of his back. Erik closed his eyes. The touch felt pleasing, but otherwise no different. Then, without warning, Marie-Christine's touch changed. Erik began to feel more of a tingling sensation, almost like a burning on his back. However this time, he felt no pain.
Marie-Christine continued her ministrations for about a few minutes and then she abruptly stopped. Erik's curiosity was piqued. She stood back and waited for Erik to look at her. Once he turned towards in her direction, she unbuttoned her blouse and slowly lowered it; Marie-Christine turned so that Erik could now see her back. What he saw left him speechless.
The scars that once populated Erik's back were now transferred to Marie-Christine. Erik stood up and walked towards the mirror. His scars were gone. He couldn't believe what just happened. He looked back once more at Marie-Christine. The scars that were on her back only minutes ago, were now gone as well.
The fatigue from the experience showed on Marie-Christine's face. "I need to rest. That took quite a bit out of me."
Erik's astonishment was evident in the expression on his face. "How did you do that?"
"I am able to somehow absorb other people's physical traumas. In your case, I transferred the scares from your body to mine. You'll still feel some soreness, but otherwise you'll be fine."
Marie-Christine attempted to walk to the other room but collapsed into Erik's arms. He wrapped his arm around her waist and guided her to the bed. He took a blanket from the quilt rack and covered her with it.
"I'll be okay. I just need to rest. Wait until nightfall. You can hide under the cover of darkness. There's a cloak in my armoire. I'm sure you can contact whomever you need to reach." Marie-Christine closed her eyes. Erik sat down in the chair next to the bed. His thoughts were interrupted by Marie-Christine's voice once more.
"Erik?"
"Yes?" He answered.
"Be careful. This is a leap year and if it was the Fleur-de-lys that captured you, then you're marked. I don't want to see you die." With these words, she closed her eyes once more and promptly fell asleep.
The mystery of Marie-Christine only deepened further. Erik just hoped he would solve the riddle before it was too late.