Just a brief warning. Coupeau's gay. That's all.

And the Dream of Paris Preys on My Bones

Chapter 10: The Antichrist

Contrary to what he thought would happen, Chauvelin did not fall asleep during the church service. Rather, he was quite awake, and very excited. Of course, that had nothing to do with the less than thrilling sermon the priest was delivering, oh no. The sinister, black-haired boy had drowned out the droll sound of the priest and was pleasantly preoccupied in thinking of all the things he would do to the woman who sat just in front of him as soon as he got her naked in his bedroom.

Leaning over and nudging Mercier in the ribs, he whispered, "Hey, check out the girl in front of me." He watched in glee as his friend leaned over to get a look at the girl. "She's quite the sexy thing, what?" Grinning slightly, he slyly said, "Give me two days and I'll have her."

Nodding in approval, he covertly pointed over the seat in front of him. "Three rows down, sixth one in." Chauvelin craned his neck over the people to take a look at what his friend was pointing at. Suddenly, everyone rose, and Chauvelin and Mercier jumped up as if they were paying attention. Satisfied that no one was moving and they all merely bowed their heads in prayer, Chauvelin looked to the girl again. "She's mine," Mercier whispered proudly.

Chauvelin shook his head. "Nah, her hips are too wide. Go for something slimmer. Wide hips scream children, and we don't want those." The people suddenly started to move, and Chauvelin and Mercier followed Coupeau out into the aisle and filed into a line. Leaning over his Coupeau's shoulder, Chauvelin quietly hissed, "What are we doing?"

Coupeau glared back at his friend. "Weren't you listening? We're taking the sacrament."

"Oh." Leaning back towards Mercier, he softly asked, "What's a sacrament?"

"It's the blood and body of Christ. They give us wafers and wine to symbolize it."

"We get snacks?" Chauvelin asked excitedly, much louder than was appropriate. "Cool!" Several people around shushed him, and Chauvelin hissed in an irritated manner. He would let this trespass go for now; the snacks would compensate.

Looking around the people excitedly, Chauvelin bounced slightly in anticipation of being fed, for he hadn't eaten that morning. He was so absolutely thrilled that he didn't know what to do with himself, so when the priest handed him a small wafer that took up little space on the palm of his hand, he was severely disappointed. He was about to protest, but Mercier pushed him to the side and into the line for the wine.

Chauvelin refused to deal with this kind of injustice. He fiercely poked Coupeau in the back and got the boy's attention. "What is this?" Chauvelin snarled, holding the wafer to the boy's face.

"You eat it, Chauvelin."

He hit Coupeau upside the head, earning him some shocked and curious looks from the priests. "I didn't ask what you do with it, you idiot!" All the same, the flustered boy popped the wafer in his mouth. "They expect to feed us with such a little amount? Their horses eat better than this!" The line moved forward, and Chauvelin found himself in front of a priest solemnly holding an elaborate metal cup out to him and he swiftly took it, quickly examined the contents, brought it to his lips and threw his head back, downing the rest of the liquid. He thrust the cup back into the stunned priest's hands and stomped his way back to his seat. Life wasn't fair.

He sat through most of the rest of the service silently fuming and occasionally looking about the room and surveying the women. It was only toward the very end that he sharply drove his elbow in to Coupeau's side and whispered, "I've been meaning to ask you. The priest. He keeps making all these hand signals. Is he just making those up on the spot? Because when the people copy him, it looks like they have no idea what they're doing."

"What? No, Chauvelin…" Coupeau gave up. The boy could not be taught.

They all rose again and filed into another line, Chauvelin in a much better mood than after the snack fiasco because he had brushed shoulders with the woman he wanted. "Ah, that was fun!" he said lazily, putting his hands behind his head. "What now?"

"We go to confession," Coupeau said quietly, nervously wringing his hands. He had a few confessions he was certain he would be smote for…

"Confession? You have got to be kidding me…" Chauvelin couldn't believe it. After that entire lecture on how bad everything was, they had to go and confess that they had been bad? "Goodness, what's the point of the lecture if they designate a special time to come in and confess that they are doing exactly what they're not supposed to?"

"Because most people are sinners like you, Chauvelin," Coupeau said extremely seriously.

"Well, well, look who's talking, Mr. Sodomy."

Coupeau only had time to blush furiously and stare in horror at the boy before he was called in to the confessional. "Weird thing, church, isn't?" Chauvelin asked in a bored tone as he leaned against Mercier. "What are you going to confess?"

Mercier shrugged. "I don't know. I've nothing to confess except for the womanizing, but I don't feel all that bad about that."

Chauvelin sighed. "Yeah, me neither. Wanna go to a tavern or something tonight? My mother always used to tell me that people are extremely aroused on Sundays. Something about no work and extra energy. Nabbing some girls should be easy."

Mercier shrugged. "Sounds good. What about Coupeau?"

"Just because Coupeau's a homo doesn't mean he can't get women. Remember how popular he was in Coulogne? They were all over him!"

"Yes, and weeping like babies. Get that guy alone with a woman, and he'll start relaying his life story and get them both worked up for a good cry."

"Eh, he'll come along anyway. Every man needs a lover, even if it's another man, I suppose." Coupeau stumbled out of the confessional, sobbing and weeping and instantly attracting the attentions of several women who were immediately at his side. "See? Women love a queer." Looking around, Chauvelin pointed to the confessional and asked, "You wanna go first?"

Mercier bowed. "I'll let you, my friend, have the honors."

"Why thank you. So much for ladies first." Chauvelin stomped into the confessional and plunked down on the seat. He shivered; no, he did not like the close, confined space. Suddenly a door slid open, revealing a dark screen and the outline of a man sitting behind it, and Chauvelin jumped and almost ran. Quickly composing himself, he cheerfully said, "Hello!"

The priest was confused. People are not happy when they come to confess their sins and darkest secrets. "Do you have a confession, my son?"

"Oh yes, several," Chauvelin said, still chipper, but with an underlying hint of malice. "I am guilty of several varieties of what you would call 'unnatural sin', but I shall call it, 'Having sex with as many women as I can get my hands on in just as many ways.'" He smiled all the more evilly as he heard the priest whimper. "I also don't believe in God, lit a monk's robes on fire, I took four francs out of that dish with money you passed around, and stolen several things. I am a compulsive liar, the bastard son of a whore, close friends with a homosexual, and nearly stooped to self gratification thinking of all the things I want to do to the innocent virgin that sat in front of me today." Leaning toward the screen, he smoothly whispered, "Would you like to hear what I have been planning for her?"

The priest whimpered.

The people in the church stared intently at the confessional. It was supposed to be quiet, a time of reflection on the wrong that had been done, but from the little box came loud groans and whimpers and cries for God's mercy, then it suddenly stopped, and a moment later, a very smug boy emerged and swaggered to sit by Coupeau. A minute later, the priest came out looking quite haggard, as if he had been through Hell and back.

"What did you do this time?" Coupeau hissed as the boy plopped down beside him.

"Oh, nothing much. Just gave him a detailed description of my sexual exploits. I don't think he has ever seen a woman naked in all his life the way he was carrying on." He smiled as Coupeau's head hit the bench in front of him. "He said for repentance, I have to do one thousand Hail Mary's while he goes to get the bishop. What's a Hail Mary?"

"Two…my God, Chauvelin, what did you tell him?" Coupeau asked, aghast. Seeing that he would get no response form the boy, he bowed his head and whispered, "Hail Mary is a prayer-"

"HAIL MARY!" Chauvelin shouted at the top of his lungs, standing on the bench for emphasis. Satisfied that he had disrupted the tranquillity of the church and every eye was on him, he sat back down to his beat red friend. "That counts as two thousand, right?"

"Repent, sinner!" the bishop yelled as he emerged from the back room, closely followed by the priest that had heard the unholy confession. "Accept God in to your heart lest you be cast into the pits of Hell!"

"That's the one," the priest said, frightened, pointing a shaky finger at the wide-eyed and confused Chauvelin.

"That's…that's him?" the bishop asked. He had been expecting someone large and demon-like, but the person that was being pointed to was small and extremely thin, not healthy looking at all and little more than a boy. He approached the boy and carefully looked him over. "Do you swear before God that all the things that you have told the priest are true?" the man asked firmly.

Chauvelin nodded, his chest swelling with pride. "Yup! Every word!"

The bishop pointed to a crucifix that hung on the wall and, very preacher-like, exclaimed, "Our Lord and Savior died for your sins and this is how you thank Him?"

"Well, why would he do that?" Chauvelin asked, very perplexed. "That was a rather stupid thing to do. Die for my sins…ha! We all go about having illicit relationships, why would he let himself be nailed to a piece of wood? To stop us?"

"He died so the spiritually weak such as yourself may be saved!" the bishop snapped, but Chauvelin only laughed harder. "Good God, he's the Antichrist!" The bishop crossed himself, muttered a quick prayer, and grabbed the boy by the arm, dragging him up to the alter. Addressing the congregation of people within the church, he proclaimed, "Behold! This is the very son of sin! He is a stain upon the face of our Lord! Even his eyes resemble a demon of Hell!"

The congregation gasped, and Chauvelin just smiled smugly, caught the eyes of one of the women and hissed in the most seductively demon-like manner he could. "But our Lord is a gracious one, and He will forgive this child of sin!" The bishop jerked Chauvelin around a little to stop the boy from mouthing things to a now gasping, sighing, and blushing group of women that gathered at the front of the church. "Have you been baptized, you dreadful sinner?"

Chauvelin looked up at the man in aggravation. "My mother was a whore and I was born under a table in a tavern. What do you think?"

The bishop's eyes shone with some odd sort of religious fevor. "Look upon the result of a child who has not been given to God at birth! He has been without the presence of our Lord for his entire life, and look at what he has become! A depraved, wicked, immoral beast!"

"Hey, this beast has feelings, you know."

"But behold as the power of God saves this vile demon and accepts him into the embrace of the Holy Spirit!" the bishop continued, ignoring the fuming boy. "Let us pray and give thanks to the glory and benevolence of Him."

Chauvelin was angry. He did not like this, not at all. The people were singing and the priest warily approached him and took him from the iron grasp of the bishop. The man led him to a basin by the alter and began chanting something and suddenly grabbed his hair and thrust his head under water. Chauvelin struggled with all his might, but the priest firmly held him and pulled him up, only to submerge him again. Chauvelin was sputtering and choking and cursing and having really no fun at all. Damn the thought of religion.

The man finally stopped and led the soaking boy to the front and gave him back to the bishop. The fiercely glaring boy looked like a drowned cat. "Behold, the splendour of God has reformed this sinner!" the bishop triumphantly stated.

Chauvelin turned his eyes up at the man and looked at him with the most sarcastic expression he could muster. "Oh yeah, your water sure makes me love God. Next time, how about asking if I need a bath. It's a good thing your God doesn't exist or he'd smite you for attempted murder."

The bishop stared at the boy and gaped at his godlessness. "He truly is the Antichrist! The very devil Lucifer himself!"

Chauvelin rolled his eyes and got away from the alter and the crazy man, the congregation parting like the Red Sea as he walked. He grabbed Mercier and Coupeau by the arms and started to head out. "These people are nut jobs. Why didn't you tell me about this, Coupeau?"

"You never gave me the chance."

"Oh, you only had the entire time we've known each other to tell me."

"He's abducting the souls of those two boys!" the bishop yelled frantically! "See the seductive powers of sin! You must resist!"

"Oh, shut up, you cur!" Chauvelin snapped. He had quite frankly had enough of that man. The priest suddenly ran up to him and threw some water at him, saying a prayer as he did so. Chauvelin merely stood unflinching and looked the frightened man in the eye and after a moment he spit at his feet. "What did I say about the water, guys? Honestly."

"The holy water didn't work!" the priest cried.

"The Antichrist is immune to our mortal means!" the bishop cried.

Chauvelin laid his hand on his chest and looked innocently at the bishop. "Me? The Antichrist? Oh no, good sir! I am quite the opposite, actually. And by the way, do you have a horse we could have?" He pushed Coupeau forward. "We have a baby in a stable that my friend here birthed and we need to get to the holy land to spread the good news!"

"A man cannot birth a child!" the bishop sneered.

"Well, neither can a virgin, what?" He grabbed his friends and left. Chauvelin had had enough of these ridiculous people.

That evening at the tavern, Chauvelin was surrounded by every woman in the establishment, two sitting upon his lap and the rest getting as close to him as they could so that they might touch him, stroke him, run their hands through his hair or gently rub his shoulders and chest, for they all wanted a piece of the Antichrist.

"Life is divine, isn't it boys?" Chauvelin purred, gently nipping at one of the girl's ear.

"Only for you, Chauvelin," Mercier sighed. "I swear, if it isn't Coupeau taking my women, it's you."

"Yes, well, everyone loves a bad boy, I suppose." The women giggled.

Mercier sighed, as there was really little else he could do. Leaning over to his friend, he asked, "What do you think of all this, Coupeau?"

"Huh?" The green-eyed boy looked up from the glass of wine that he had been staring in to. Realizing that he had been asked something, he slumped down in his chair and sulkily responded, "I don't like women…"

Mercier's head hit the table. A room full of women, and he was stuck at a table alone with the queer. Fantastic. He looked wearily up as he hear the door open and instantly jumped up to greet the woman that cautiously entered. Grabbing her hand and passionately kissing it, he quietly muttered, "Good evening, mademoiselle." Chauvelin couldn't have all the women…

"Good evening, monsieur," the woman shyly responded. Looking over his shoulder at the mass of women and hearing a cry of pleasure from a girl sitting on a black-haired man's lap, she quietly asked, "Is that the Antichrist?"

Mercier vigorously nodded. "Yes, and I am his right-hand man."

"Oh, really?" the woman said, sneaking an arm around the man's neck. "That's quite exciting, isn't it?"

Mercier grinned and slowly led the woman back to the table. Being bad rocked.

Coupeau watched in disbelief as Mercier had so easily got this girl to follow him and sit upon his lap at their table. Groaning, he threw back the rest of his wine. It was going to be a very long night… "Not you too, Mercier," he whined, causing both his irritated friend and the girl to look his way.

"Oh, who's your friend?" the girl asked, stroking the man's cheek but keeping an eye on the sulking green-eyed thing.

"That's Coupeau," Mercier said, turning her face back toward him.

"He's really cute…"

"Yes, well he's also really homosexual…" he said between grit teeth, glaring at the boy as the little thing flushed and slunk down further in the chair.

His cheek suddenly burned as the woman's open hand connected with it. "Don't defame the poor thing!" she reprimanded, sliding off his lap and standing behind Coupeau's chair, her hands coming to rest on the flustered boy's chest.

"But…but its true!" Mercier said as his head hit the table. So much for his prospects for the evening.

"Oh, nonsense," the woman drawled, laying her head on the boy's shoulder and nuzzling his neck. "You wouldn't mind that we…get to know each other better, would you?" she whispered in his ear, causing him to turn an even more fierce shade of red.

"M-madame, please, I beseech you, don't touch me…" He wriggled a bit to get his point across and sniffled a little as the woman came and sat next to him.

"Oh, what's wrong, cutie?" she asked softly, running a hand across the boy's auburn hair and down his jaw, taking note of how uncomfortable the little thing looked.

Coupeau looked in her eyes, sniffed and began to cry, throwing himself into the woman's arms and laying his head on her chest. "God hates me because I like men and I love Chauvelin but he's surrounded by women and doesn't want me and I'm so very far from home and I miss my mother and I don't even know where to begin!"

"Well, you could start at the beginning," the woman said softly, gently petting the weeping boy's hair.

Coupeau turned his head up and smiled gratefully at the woman. "Well, I was born in a small town, the middle child of twenty two sisters…"

"That's the saddest thing I have ever heard!" the woman wailed, she and Coupeau holding on to each other as if their lives depended on it.

"I know!" Coupeau cried, holding on to the woman tighter. "My life is a senseless tragedy filled with soulless people and heterosexual men!"

"Oh you poor dear!" the woman cried before both of them began sobbing uncontrollably.

Mercier hit his head repeatedly against the table. This was intolerable, but he had really nowhere else to go. Chauvelin had already left to the back rooms of the tavern, dragging all of the girls with him, and he really didn't trust to leave Coupeau alone. He may be inclined to go about and depress the whole town so that they descend into a fit of weeping before all ritually drowning themselves for the little queer's sake. And Mercier recognized that he most certainly would not be bringing any women to bed that evening…he may as well go home.

Sighing and standing up, he pried the woman's and Coupeau's arms off each other and dragged the boy by the collar toward the door. "So sorry, miss, but it is getting late, and you are no doubt tired of my friend's prattling…"

"When shall I see you again, my poor little one?" the woman cried.

"I don't know!" Coupeau sniffed. "I may never see you again, if for nothing else, because some higher being would think it is funny to see me all the more miserable…"

"Oh God! Why!" the woman bemoaned, and wailed all the more.

Mercier rolled his eyes and dragged Coupeau out of there before he had a chance to respond and make things worse. They walked for a long while in silence which was only broken by the occasional sniffle from Coupeau. "So…uh, you…you really like men, huh?" Mercier asked nervously, flushing from what to him was a very awkward question.

"I thought you knew that…" Coupeau whispered, stumbling slightly over an uneven spot on the ground. "You hate me for it, remember?"

"No, Coupeau, I don't…" He sighed, hung his head. "I don't hate you."

"Yes you do… 'Let's get rid of him,' that's what you said…"

"I-I didn't mean it…I was a bit surprised, is all…and if Chauvelin says it's safe…then, well, I guess it's fine…"

Silence. Coupeau twitched nervously, quietly asked, "I guess I ruined your evening again, huh?"

Mercier sighed. "I won't lie to you. Yes. Yes you did."

"Oh…" Coupeau bowed his head, slightly trembled. "I'm sorry…I-I can just sit in the corner next time and not say anything…if, if that will make it easier for you to talk to the ladies…"

"I have no difficulty talking to the ladies," Mercier said defiantly, crossing his arms in front of his chest. He shrugged. "Chauvelin says women love queers and bad boys. I'm neither."

"I'm sorry…" Coupeau said quietly as they approached the house.

Mercier smiled at him slightly as he opened the door, motioning for him to enter. "That's quite alright, my friend."

Smiling sheepishly, Coupeau bowed slightly and went inside, closely followed by Mercier.

Chauvelin stumbled out of the tavern, thoroughly intoxicated by the evening's activities. Women, no doubt, were far superior to any wine he had ever tasted, and their after-effects were nearly identical, though of course the means to getting to that state were far more pleasurable with women and he didn't need to worry about any nasty headache in the morning. Marvellously splendid way to live.

He grinned smugly to himself as he weaved down the street toward home. He didn't even bring his favourite headgear with him that evening. His seductive powers must have been just as great as the hat. That was certainly an accomplishment on his part.

Humming a tune that he was making up that was to be his "theme song" for life and his relentless pursuit of the female of the species, he waltzed to the front door of his house, dug through all the junk he kept in his pockets and withdrew the key. Yawning, he put the key in the lock, turned it, replaced the key in his pocket and opened the door. Rubbing his eyes as he walked in, he blinked and stopped dead in his tracks.

There, sitting on one of the chairs, was Mercier with Coupeau straddling him, both men without shirts, their hands everywhere, kissing passionately and moaning wildly. Chauvelin's jaw dropped and for a moment could only stare in shock. Getting his wits together, he slammed the door as hard as he could, grinning evilly as the two jumped and their eyes flew open, daring not to move and staring at Chauvelin with wide eyes. They stuttered a bit but failed to speak at all.

Chauvelin just grinned.