Maria shook her head at Cross and laughed hoarsely again.
"You're incorrigible, Mr. Marian. You're forewarned, though, I'm starting at the very beginning."
Cross nodded. "Proceed." He settled onto the floor next to her, cushioned a little by the petticoats splayed around her legs.
She leaned back on her elbows and closed her eyes, remembering.
Senyora de Lourdes moaned, lying on her bed in a state of half consciousness. Little Maria, rising from her small cot nearby, padded across the floor in her nightgown. She laid her head on her mother's shoulder. She shuddered. Maria smoothed her mother's hair, shushing her. Smiling, she started to sing. Her mother rolled onto her side, curling her knees to her chest. Maria was glad that her mother was getting some rest now. She could not see the tears streaming down the woman's cheeks.
Cross couldn't see the tears in her eyes either, for which she was grateful.
"My first encounter with an akuma was when I was very young, though I didn't understand at the time. My father died before my eighth birthday, and my mother never really recovered. She was bedridden for a month, at least, with an inexplicable illness. The doctors couldn't say what it was. She couldn't bear to touch me, and she would cry when I tried to talk to her. Luckily I had an aunt with whom I was very close, who took care of me. She was young, and loved to chant nursery rhymes and other such nonsense, which I joined in, happy to have a companion. I realize now that that singing is probably the only reason my aunt is still alive today. In the end, my mother just faded away. Yet, I swear to you that I heard her soul singing in heaven that day.
"I was orphaned, I suppose, but my mother's family took me in, and we moved to England, so that, at my aunt's behest, I could attend music school. That's where I met the Walkers."
She looked over at Cross, whose hat had begun to tip forward dangerously, his mouth hanging slightly open.
"For someone who felt the need to break into my home just to ask some questions, you seem terribly uninterested."
"Forgive me for being unmoved by the plight of the parentless. What is the point of this?"
"Perhaps if you'd let me finish," Maria said, "You'd find out. Like you, I didn't realize it at first. But I suspect that the younger Walker brother, Christian, is a Noah."
Cross looked surprised. Whatever he had been expecting, it wasn't that.
"How do you know about the Noah? Any information on those aberrations is strictly classified."
"Unlike you, I suspect, Mr. Marian, I have not been snooping through restricted intelligence files. So if you're going to punish anyone for being a spy, start with yourself. I don't suppose you've ever met a Noah, have you, General?"
"And you're so sure you have?" Crossed sounded unconvinced.
Maria didn't reply for a moment. She looked suspiciously at Cross. "I'm not sure I should tell you, if the matter is so secret."
"It's your duty as an exorcist."
"I had no idea you cared so much for duty, Mr. Marian."
Cross shrugged.. "No, I suppose I don't find that argument very convincing either. I have been threatening to kill you, though."
"You've had plenty of chances."
"That's true. But even if I don't kill you, you're going to tell or die. Either you come back with me to the Order and they torture it out of you, or you don't come with me, and you'll be assassinated as a liability. Once the Black Order knows that you've seen the truth, you can't go back. At least with me," he grinned, "any torture is voluntary, and there's a chance that I won't kill your Noah friend the minute I find him."
He paused to let the ultimatum sink in.
"So would you like to tell me why you suspect his boy to be a Noah?
They sat in silence. Maria fingered the innocence in her neck. At last she continued.
"Christian Walker was an exceptionally talented pianist. A prodigy, I imagine. If I'd have been his brother, I'm not sure I could have stood it. But Mana Walker was one of the most even tempered and selfless people I've ever met. They'd accompany me, coax me into practicing far more than I would have if left to my own devices. In turn I'd coax them into sneaking out and other acts of mischief. We were inseparable. But strange things started happening our final year. We were almost eighteen. For Christian the day couldn't come soon enough that he could get leave his family. At first he just started acting differently. He'd snap at me for not being serious enough, and complained of headaches. He locked himself in the practice room for days, playing and composing. He refused to accompany me. Mana sat outside the practice hall, waiting for him to calm down, but I was livid. When he finally came out, he looked like death, but seemed happier than he'd been in a long time. He said he'd discovered something about himself. I was too relieved to stay angry at him for long, but Mana seemed nervous, uncharacteristically."
"We'd arranged to practice together, like before. I was singing a mass, one of many they made us perform on Sundays. It was simple enough that I could concentrate more on Christian. He still looked pale, and he was sweating as though the piece, which he'd played dozens of times, were a particularly taxing one. Halfway through, he stopped. I was still singing. He was trembling so hard the bench was nearly shaking, then he put his hands over his ears and yelled at me to shut up. I stopped singing to see what was wrong. It looked like he was bleeding, but I couldn't figure out the cause. He held his hands out to me as I rushed over, dripping red down his fingers. There were gashes on both his palms. I started ripping my petticoats to bandage them, but he kept bleeding. His forehead seemed about to split apart in a crown of bloody Xs. In a strange way, I suppose, that was when things seemed to make sense. I'd read enough penny dreadfuls about the paranormal to see the signs of stigmata in my friend.
Christian was never really the same after that. He had strange dreams about demons and some plot to destroy the world. I thought taking him home with me might help take his mind off of things. Our music tutor set him and Mana up to tour Catalonia, and I went along to sing a little, and to interpret.
He never made it to the first concert. Christian had become convinced that he had to get involved in the revolutionary movement. Him! I'm Catalonian, and I didn't even care. But every time I asked him why, he simply told me that he knew it was what he had to do. Fool I was, I believed him, which is how I ended up passing messages as a spy.
He was right though. One of the Catalonians leaders was a former scientist from the Black Order. The war was a front to combat the akuma that were being installed in the Spanish government. He had left the order because he thought the higher ups were too losing sight of the battle in their efforts to create more powerful soldiers. He told me about the human experimentation, the fallen, crows." Maria shuddered. "When I told him about the stigmata, he told me to watch out for Christian, that we could soon expect him to lose himself completely to the Noah inside him.
"Then things took a turn for the worse. Christian had gone into hiding, fleeing the conflict he'd been so eager to join. Our leader was killed by one of his own men. I still don't know whether it was the work of the Earl, or an assassin from the Black Order to keep their secrets from getting out. Mana and I were arrested, and the revolution died."
"I made it out of prison thanks to Sherrill. My aunt disowned me when she found out that I had been convicted of espionage. Mana is still captive, though he should be safe where he is. I never told him about the innocence, or akuma, or the earl. You know the rest. Sherrill is my patron now, and I sing."
Cross shifted where he was sitting next to her on the floor. "Quite the story."
"It's the truth."
He nodded, lost in thought for a moment.
"Have you ever wondered why Sherrill bailed you out?"
Maria shook her head. "No. He's just an average wealthy man, a little more frivolous than some. A romantic. But as long as he's paying, I can stay here and look for Christian."
"And what will you do when you find him?"
"I don't know. I can't take him back to the Order. I'm not sure what they'd do with a live Noah on their hands. There's nowhere safe from the Earl. If he returns to England and starts touring again, if he reclaims his celebrity, he might be safe for a while. If he's famous enough, the Earl can't touch him without alerting the world."
"And you?"
She looked down at the space between them. Cross put his hand on hers, which clenched the fabric of her petticoat. "I'll join the Order. I'll become an exorcist. Maybe then they'll have less need for torturing innocents for their own ends."
"Good." Cross got to his feet, leading her up. "Though I'm afraid you're going to have to rethink your plans for Christian Walker. There is no way the Order can allow a Noah to walk freely."
"You can't, no. Please, General."
"I think that's the first time you've asked me something politely. Sadly, I have to decline. My dear, did you really think you could tell me and I'd walk away?"
"I thought if I agreed to come…"
"Mistaken, I'm afraid. But don't worry. We'll get some sleep now, and in the morning we can find Mana Walker and begin looking for his brother."
"I'm not going to help you."
"You'll probably want to be there when I find him."
"Bastard." She pulled her hand away. I'm going to bed. We'll leave in the morning."
Maria walked towards her room, crunching broken glass into the carpet as she left. She paused at the door.
"Do you have no sense of privacy?"
Cross, a half step behind her, grinned. "No. And I don't trust you. Your window has an incredibly convenient trellis below it, if I remember correctly."
"I wasn't going to run away. I don't abandon my friends to sadists like you."
"I'm sure. Now, shall we?" He opened the door and bowed, waiting for her to enter.
"Thank you." He closed the door behind her.
She crossed the room and lit the oil lamp on the desk next to her bed.
Cross watched as Maria undid the buttons of her gown.
"Why don't you let me tear it off? With that, and the broken glass, and the blood, it will look like a kidnapping. Convenient excuse."
"Do you want the police after us? I'll tell the opera I want a week, tell them I'm going to the countryside to make amends with my relatives. I'm a prima donna. They'll let me have it. This way Sherrill won't come looking for me either, at least not for a while. I can tell you don't trust him."
"Hmm."
She folded the gown and placed it in her wardrobe. Her petticoat and bustle were laid flat in a bottom drawer. Quickly unfastening the busk of her corset, she laid that on top and shut the drawer. At last she could bend over, unlace her boots and shimmy out of her stockings. Only once she was dressed only in her shift, seated at her vanity taking down her hair did Cross take off his coat, boots, hat and gloves. He came up behind her and looked at her reflection in the mirror.
"Do you wear your mask when you sleep?" She asked.
"No."
"Why…"
"It's fashionable." He snuffed out the wick of the lamp, and the room was dark. She heard a small click as he set down the mask on the dresser. She reached out to grab it, but he caught her wrist and pulled her up. She twisted out of his grasp and pushed him backwards onto the bed.
Maybe he was taking her too lightly.
They both got into bed. Cross slept on his stomach, his long hair flung over one shoulder. Maria slept on her back, her arms crossed protectively on her stomach. Cross draped an arm across her chest, but she turned her back to him. In response, he merely turned towards her and drew her closer, his arms wrapped around her waist.
"Is that really necessary?"
"Yes."
"No worse than Sherrill, I suppose."
"Lady, you truly know how to wound me." He moved his hand up and ran a finger across the cut on her chest, the sliced skin knitting itself together underneath his touch. The fresh blue of the bruise beneath faded to yellow.
"Mr. Marian, if only I did."
She smiled, if only a little, before falling asleep.
Author's note: Hurray for spring break. Sorry it's been so long, but the backstory was particularly hard to solidify. And, as always, we love reviews and definitely want to hear from you!
Love,
La Romanesque