30
Combeferre held her for what felt like hours, but she knew it must only have been a few minutes. Then he held her at arms length again.
"Let's go," he said. He walked away from her, collecting their slightly battered books from where they lay on the cobbles. Then he took her hand in his, and squeezed. "I will carry your books," he said. "Come on."
They had been walking for a couple of minutes when she pulled her hand out of his grip.
"Thank you," she murmured. She was thanking him for a lot of things, so she didn't feel the need to specify what she was grateful for. He seemed to understand, as he gave her a smile. She wiped her hands on her skirts. Her hands still trembled, but she no longer felt like she wanted to vomit.
They reached the guardian's building, and immediately ran into Éléonore in the lobby. She was deep in conversation with a middle-aged woman with cornflower blue eyes. She looked up when they entered.
"…I'm sorry, Juliette, I'm going to have to leave you with this," Éléonore murmured, handing over a collection of papers to the woman. Juliette glanced at Éponine and Combeferre, nodded, and turned to walk away.
"Is everything all right?" Éléonore said, touching a hand to the wide lace choker around her throat, fingers pressing into the emerald placed n the centre.
"I'm sorry if you're busy," Combeferre said, "But something has just happened and I wanted to tell you about it."
Éléonore's forehead creased. "It's nothing that can't wait," she said. "You both look a bit dishevelled, I didn't realise the library was so dangerous these days!" She fixed a smile on her face. "Come, we'll go somewhere more private."
Instead of taking them to one of their plain meeting rooms, she took them to a small library. There were four chairs in there, as well as a desk; the walls were lined with bookshelves, and on closer inspection, all of the books were written by Clémence Lefebvre.
Éponine sank into one of the chairs. She hadn't realised until then how much she had needed to sit down. Combeferre and Éléonore hovered by the door; as she looked at them, Combeferre was pressing a kiss to the apple of Éléonore's cheek. She looked away quickly, feeling like she was intruding.
A moment later, Éléonore sat in the chair opposite Éponine, whilst Combeferre took the one next to her. He placed their books onto the desk before he sat down.
"We were walking from the library when Éponine was attacked by a man," Combeferre said. "I did not know him, but –"
"He borrowed money from my father and couldn't pay him back so my father ruined him," Éponine muttered in explanation. "He's determined to make me pay for that."
"If you're looking for protection there is a faction here that deals with crime," Éléonore said, cupping her chin in her hand. Her jewelled rings glinted. "We would have this man arrested, and it would go to trial. We have prisons…"
"That's not why we're here," Combeferre interrupted. "Although, if he resurfaces, that would be welcome…However, the man vanished."
"Our men could find him," Éléonore said, looking confused. "It's what we're trained for…"
"No, I mean, he literally vanished," Combeferre said.
"I pushed him," Éponine explicated, "And, like, this thing opened behind him – it looked like a tear, in a wall, and it got wider, and he fell into it, and then it closed and he was gone."
Silence met her words. Éléonore's eyebrows knitted together. She cleared her throat and leaned forward in her chair. Her hand dropped from her chin and both of her hands linked together on her lap.
"Exactly what happened?" she said. "You just pushed him?"
"I put my hands on his chest and I shoved," Éponine said, wondering how on earth that could be confusing Éléonore.
"Did you say anything?" Éléonore pushed.
"I said – I said just go, before I pushed him."
"And this – this tear, what did it look like?"
Combeferre and Éponine looked at each other. It was Combeferre that answered. "It was, as Éponine said, like a tear – like in fabric. It got wider, until it was bigger than him in width; I'd say it was taller than him, from the ground upwards, and he was quite a tall man. The edges glowed blue, but faintly. Once he had fallen through, it just moved back together. It closed."
"And it was silent, I assume?" Éléonore said.
"I was too amazed by its presence to notice a noise," Combeferre confessed. "Éponine?"
"I was the same," Éponine murmured.
Éléonore's eyes fixed on the ceiling for a few heartbeats, then she looked at Éponine.
"Éponine, do you remember a few days ago you came across Inès looking at a Portal?" she said.
Éponine was so surprised by the rapid change of subject that she gaped for a few moments before answering. "Yes, I remember," she said, slowly.
"You closed it," Éléonore said. "You closed her Portal. And when you told me that, it made me wonder, because as I said to you, you should not have been able to close another person's Portal. It's impossible, and you did it. And you did something today that you shouldn't have been able to do."
"Have you heard of it before?" Combeferre asked.
Éléonore's eyes flickered briefly from Éponine to the man who had just spoken.
"Yes," she said. "But it isn't common, not at all. It's nothing for Éponine to worry about, so I don't want any panicking; it's not a bad thing. It is just very unusual. The thing is – I've never dealt with this, none of us deal with this. We'll have to refer to an expert."
"Another Guardian?" Combeferre guessed.
"No," Éléonore said. "The expert I have in mind doesn't live here – they live in our area but they live far away. I'll need to send a messenger and have them come and visit. But be aware, they might want you to go to them. They can be a bit picky."
"And they'll be able to explain everything to Éponine?" Combeferre said. Éléonore nodded, and Combeferre gave Éponine a reassuring smile.
"What of Douvillier?" Éponine said. "The man I…Whatever I did, to…"
"I can't say, Éponine," Éléonore murmured. "I'm really not certain. We'll just have to wait and see. But if he turns up again, come straight to me and I will put you in touch with our version of a police force who will deal with it for you."
Éponine agreed that she would, but her inherent distrust of the law meant she had no intention of doing that. They bade Éléonore goodbye, and left the building.
"Your hands are still shaking," Combeferre murmured as they walked.
She shot him a reproachful look.
"You don't have to go straight back to your flat," he continued. "Come to mine for a bit. You can have some tea. When I left, Courfeyrac was conjuring macaroons."
"Actual macaroons, or the ingredients for?" Éponine questioned.
Combeferre hesitated. "Unfortunately, I think it was just the ingredients…"
The idea of Courfeyrac trying to tackle baking macaroons was somewhat horrifying to Éponine, but she then thought of Gavroche jumping around the flat and decided to accept Combeferre's offer.
Combeferre's flat was a mess when they arrived; there was sugar everywhere, all over the floorboards and the sofas and every available surface, and egg whites were, for some reason, smattered over a painting hung on the wall furthest from the kitchen.
Courfeyrac was nowhere to be found, and neither were the macaroons he was supposed to have made; but Enjolras was sat on the sofas, reading a thick book bound in red leather.
She hadn't anticipated seeing him, not so soon, and she felt a bit horrified. Combeferre's face became somewhat amused upon realising the situation.
"Hello, Enjolras," Combeferre said. "How has your day been?"
"Boring," Enjolras replied, turning the page in his book. He hadn't looked up since they had come through the doors.
"Ours has been very exciting," Combeferre said, shrugging out of his coat. "Hasn't it, Éponine?"
Éponine watched as Enjolras' shoulders went slightly stiff, and then he looked up. As usual, his eyes hovered somewhere over Éponine's shoulder. "Éponine," he said, in a tone that was both polite and uncertain. His brow furrowed. "You both look a bit dishevelled," he said. "Has something happened?"
Éponine looked at herself in the mirror that hung next to the door. Her hair was sticking up in every direction and it had largely come loose from where it had been pinned up that morning; there was a tear in the shoulder of her dress, and a smudge of dirt across one cheek. She then looked at Combeferre, really looked at him for the first time since their encounter with Douvillier, and saw dust all over his coat, a cravat that was loose and a few buttons on his shirt undone; like her, his hair was a mess.
"We were attacked," Combeferre said, batting dust off his coat.
"Attacked?" Enjolras said, incredulous. He closed his book and put it to one side. "Are you being serious?"
"Would I lie about something like that?" Éponine watched as Combeferre opened a cupboard and pulled out a decanter of what looked like Bliss. He retrieved two glasses from the same cupboard and placed them on the table. "Éponine, would you like a glass?"
"Why not," she replied, trying hard not to think of the escapades of the night before. Combeferre removed the stopper from the decanter and poured some Bliss into a glass; he then pushed it across the table towards her. She walked forwards and picked it up, staring down at the clear liquid.
"What happened?" Enjolras pressed. "In more detail than just we were attacked."
"It was a man after Éponine," Combeferre explained. "Éponine can explain it better."
"He was…an acquaintance of my father who wants to hurt me," Éponine said, her voice getting quieter as she spoke. She knocked back the entire glass of Bliss in one go as her mind tried to wander to what his revenge could entail.
"Was he the same man that attacked you before?" Enjolras asked.
She thought back to the day in the alley when she had hit Douvillier with her book; she remembered that it was Enjolras who had found her, not long after, and stayed with her to make sure that Douvillier didn't chase her once more.
"Yes," she said. "It was."
Enjolras shook his head and glanced at Combeferre. "So I imagine you protected her?"
"I didn't need protecting," Éponine bristled.
"To be quite fair, in the end, Éponine didn't need my help." Combeferre explained the tear as briefly as he could to Enjolras.
Éponine hovered near the table, having put her glass down. She could feel the weight of Enjolras' stare as he watched her, taking in Combeferre's revelation.
"So we just need to wait for this expert to come and talk to Éponine," Combeferre finished.
"You weren't exaggerating when you said that you'd had an exciting day, were you?" Enjolras murmured. "What do you think it means?"
"I have no idea," Combeferre admitted. "I can't begin to imagine."
Éponine cleared her throat. "I was promised macaroons," she said, wanting to steer the conversation away from her.
"You were, weren't you," Combeferre said, before giving a small humming noise. "Enjolras, did Courfeyrac make macaroons in the end?"
Enjolras grumbled under his breath. "No," he said. "Jehan interrupted, there was a fight involving sugar and egg whites, and then they decided to go to the nearest tavern to meet up with Bahorel and Grantaire."
"Sorry, Éponine," Combeferre said. "We have no macaroons."
"We could always conjure some," she suggested.
"Good idea," Combeferre said. "You do that, whilst I make us some tea."
Éponine quickly realised that she was much more adept at conjuring than Combeferre, as she managed to create a plate of macaroons a long time before he even finished conjuring a teapot.
She carried the macaroons over to the sofa, and offered one to Enjolras. He took one.
"He's being very cheerful," she said quietly, placing the plate down onto the sofa cushion next to Enjolras. She sat on one of the armchairs.
"I think – forgive me if I'm wrong – he's trying to make you feel better," Enjolras said. "If I know Combeferre, he's just trying to make things normal for you."
"Tea and macaroons with two dead revolutionaries isn't normal for me," she said.
"Maybe not Éponine who is alive, but for dead Éponine, it's a regular occurrence," Enjolras contradicted.
"Not tea and macaroons. Bliss and silly dancing is what I'm used to." Éponine tried to smile at him. He didn't smile back.
"I don't drink," he said.
"I know," she sighed in response, sitting back in her seat, wishing Combeferre had offered more Bliss instead of tea; it might have made conversing with Enjolras a little easier.