43
A few days past. Inès more or less lived at Éponine and Gavroche's apartment. Éponine had no objections; she made refreshingly different company than the usual males that occupied her flat, and she managed to strike up an odd sort of friendship with Gavroche. This friendship formed when Courfeyrac taught Inès how to play chess and Gavroche challenged her to a game. It turned out that Inès was better at chess than Gavroche, and it led to all sorts of arguments and, on one occasion, Inès hitting Gavroche over the head with a cushion.
If nothing else Éponine was grateful that Gavroche was managing to take Inès' mind off all of her problems, especially Fantine's disappearance. However, in the evenings, Gavroche often went to either Courfeyrac's apartment or Jehan's apartment for tea with the students, and that left Éponine alone with Inès.
These evenings were spent talking, as Inès still liked to talk, and Éponine found that she enjoyed these little conversations. They still argued occasionally, silly little arguments where they sniped at each other's opinions viciously, but these arguments were beginning to end more and more with giggles rather than one of them storming out of the room.
The main problem that Inès was facing, besides her grief, was avoiding her family, particularly her mother. Her mother, Jeanne, seemed to know what street that Éponine lived on and had been seen wandering up and down, staring up at the houses as if she imagined Inès would just be hanging out of a window. She hadn't stooped to knocking on doors just yet, which Éponine was grateful for. She didn't know any of her neighbours but she had no desire to introduce herself to them by yelling at Jeanne in the street.
Inès, for whatever reason, did not want to see her family. She had gone home briefly after the morning she arrived in Éponine's flat, only to have argued with her mother and eldest sister regarding their wish to move in to the house she shared with Fantine. That was when Inès appeared back at Éponine's flat, in tears once again. Courfeyrac had managed to persuade Éponine not to seek out Jeanne, as she had felt a wave of protectiveness when faced with the crying Inès and desperately wanted to tell Jeanne to leave Inès alone.
Every night, Éponine would make up a bed on the sofa for Inès. Inès often grumbled about how uncomfortable the sofa was to sleep on, and Éponine would remind her she was willing to go home and sleep in her own bed, and Inès would just huff and roll over and pretend she was sleeping.
Éponine found that she was quite happy with this little arrangement. Looking after Inès was a suitable distraction whilst Éponine waited for the expert to arrive, and she was almost beginning to dread the moment this fragile sort of peace was disturbed by the arrival of the expert, whoever he was.
This happened after almost a week.
She was watching Gavroche and Inès throw chess pieces at each other when there was a knock at the door.
She jumped up to look out of the window, almost pressing her face against the window to see if she could see the landing outside her door. She could just about see red hair, and none of Inès' family had red hair, so she opened the door.
It was Éléonore, looking altogether more lovely than she had done the last time they had seen each other. Her hair was arranged in a bun on one side of her head, and there were ropes of pearls around her neck and diamonds glittering on her fingers.
"The expert has arrived," she said, bluntly. "She wants to see you as soon as possible, so I am going to take you to see her now."
"Now?" Éponine echoed. "I mean, can't I just…I don't know…"
"I think it would be best if we just went," Éléonore said. "She's not the most patient of women."
Éponine glanced over her shoulder. "Let me just put my shoes on," she said. "You're welcome to come inside, of course, just watch out for flying pawns."
Éléonore did come inside, and as Éponine disappeared into her room to hunt down her boots she became aware that the game of throwing chess pieces seemed to stop and that Éléonore was talking to Inès.
Once she had put on her boots and wrapped a shawl around her shoulders, she emerged into the living room to find Gavroche and Inès fighting over a chess piece and Éléonore watching with amused eyes.
"I'm ready," Éponine said, her heart hammering with anticipation. "You two will be all right if I go out, won't you?"
"I'm not a child," Inès said snippily, cuffing Gavroche over the head. "I'm the second oldest person in this room!"
"Act like it, then," Éponine sniffed back, then smiled at Éléonore as Inès spluttered. "Shall we go, then?"
Éléonore bowed her head, and together they left the apartment.
XXX
They had been walking for five minutes and with every step Éponine's nervousness grew. They were on the same street as Combeferre's flat and she couldn't help but stare at the flat as they passed it.
"I want Combeferre there," she said, suddenly, coming to a stop.
Éléonore turned to look back at her. "Oh?"
"I just – I'm nervous," Éponine admitted.
"Well, I don't see any harm in taking him along," Éléonore said. "I can't promise she'll let him in the room with you, but we'll just have to see, won't we?"
Éléonore waited on the street whilst Éponine knocked on the door and waited for it to be answered.
It was Courfeyrac who opened it, shrugging on a brown jacket as he did so. "Éponine!" he exclaimed, voice bright and cheery. "How can I help you today?"
She wound her hands together. "Is Combeferre in?"
"Of course he is," Courfeyrac said, adjusting the cuffs on his jacket before standing aside. "Combeferre, Éponine is here to see you."
She stepped inside the flat to see Combeferre rising slowly from the sofa, shutting a hardback book as he stood. His eyebrows were raised in a questioning manner. He looked over her form and took in her knotted fingers and the awkward way she held herself.
"What's the matter?" he asked. "Is everything all right?"
"Everything is fine," Éponine assured him. "Well, for now, that is – it's just – the expert has arrived."
Combeferre nodded. "It's about time," he commented.
"I don't want to go there alone," Éponine said quickly. "Éléonore is with me, but…I'd like it if you were there, Combeferre. If you're not busy, of course…"
"I'm not busy at all," Combeferre said, giving her a smile. "Just let me put on a coat."
He disappeared into his room, leaving Éponine alone with Courfeyrac.
"I'm sure there's nothing to be nervous about," the man said kindly.
"I can't help it," Éponine admitted. "I'm worried about what they might tell me…What I am…"
"You're a woman," Courfeyrac said. "A woman named Éponine, who had a difficult life when she lived, a better one in death, and likes reading and conjures the best macaroons I've ever eaten. For what it's worth, I also think you can be very kind. Nothing that this 'expert' will tell you today will change any of that."
Éponine stared at him, uncertain of what to say, but Combeferre's bedroom door opened and he stepped back out, now wearing a blue frockcoat.
"Now, is there anything I can do to help in this situation?" Courfeyrac said smoothly, as if he hadn't said anything at all.
"I thought you were going out?" Combeferre said. "Meeting up with Bahorel?"
"I was," Courfeyrac agreed, "But plans can change. Éponine?"
"If it's not too much to ask, could you go and watch over Gavroche and Inès?" Éponine said, feeling a little embarrassed. "I know that they're fine to look after themselves, but Inès is still…"
"Fragile?" Combeferre suggested.
"That's one word for it," Éponine said, shrugging her shoulders. "I just don't want her mother turning up – I'm not sure that Inès could handle seeing her right now."
"I can do that," Courfeyrac said with a nod. "Bahorel will just have to deal with the change of plan."
Courfeyrac followed them out of Combeferre's apartment and onto the street, where they bade him goodbye and went their separate ways.
Combeferre greeted Éléonore by kissing her hand, and then they continued their walk.
"Could you possibly tell us a little more about this expert?" Combeferre inquired.
Éléonore bit her lip. "You probably know her quite well," she said, with a humourless smile. "The expert is Clémence Lefebvre – I believe you're both familiar with her works?"
Combeferre gaped, whilst Éponine shrugged. "I found her work to be a tad on the pretentious side," she said, honestly.
"You sound just like Enjolras," Combeferre murmured with a roll of his eyes, before saying, "You kept that very quiet, Éléonore."
"Clémence is a very private person," Éléonore said. "Very private, and yes, sometimes she is very pretentious – as well as impatient and a little rude, just as a warning."
"How well do you know her?" Combeferre questioned.
"She used to be the Head Guardian for many years," Éléonore said. "No one knows how long she has been here, and by her own admittance, Clémence Lefebvre is not her real name, it is one she adopted. She knows this place inside and out. Even though she can be difficult I do sometimes miss her input when dealing with difficult cases…She's so difficult to get hold of, too…I swear she enjoys it."
"She sounds…interesting," Éponine muttered.
"Yes, she is," Éléonore said. "Here we are…"
They stopped outside a set of large ornate gates, grey in colour, the metal wound into patterns of vines and little iron roses fixed upon it, along with the occasional bird in flight.
The gates swung open with a high pitched whine, and Éléonore ushered them through.
The gates led onto a wide, sweeping driveway, covered in chipped stone; on either side was perfectly kept grass, the blades all uniform sizes and completely uninterrupted. There were clusters of bushes bearing flowers of red and blue and white and yellow. The gates shut behind then with a clank.
At the end of the driveway was a house. It had a blue tiled roof, pinkish brick walls, and three storeys. On the ground floor there was a large wooden door with a short flight of stone steps leading up to it, but there were two larger flights of stairs on either side of this door, leading up to a landing built over it. There was a much larger, grander door on this landing, and the door was painted a rich blue, almost black, and an ornate door knocker in the shape of a snarling dog was nailed to the front.
Éponine had never seen a house quite like it, and wondered to herself whether or not she could see herself living there. She decided after not very long at all that she probably could, but she wouldn't know what to do with the multitude of rooms that undoubtedly waited inside. She imagined that a house like this could probably house all of the students and then some. And she could probably have a library all of her own, filled with books, and too many comfy armchairs to choose from…
Éléonore ignored the smaller door and walked up one of the larger flights of stairs. Combeferre stood aside to allow Éponine to climb the stairs first. She stood behind Éléonore as the other woman grasped the knocker in her hands and let it fall. She knocked three times before the door opened, and Éléonore's slim white hand fell away from the door and she stepped back. Éponine had to edge backwards so that Éléonore didn't stand on her feet.
A tall, thin man stood there. He had an impassive face and wore a white wig over his hair, and wore a rather ugly outfit of purple and gold stripes. He bowed his head.
"Mademoiselle Foucquet," he said, in a smooth voice. "And…guests."
He opened the door wider so that they could come inside. The hall they walked into had marble floors and walls the colour of the sky, and a huge marble staircase leading upwards. There were too many paintings on the walls to count, and just as many little doors leading off. There were also sculptures and vases and large potted plants, and an immaculate chaise longue was tucked into an archway.
"Mademoiselle Lefebvre is in her conservatory, if you would like to follow Anne," the man said, shutting the door.
Anne was a young girl with hair so blonde it was almost white, and her dress was made of the same purple and gold material as the man's uniform. She had her hands clasped in front of her as she led them through one of the small doors down a narrow corridor. This, too, had walls lined with paintings and the occasional archway leading onto other rooms. Éponine craned her neck to try and see into these rooms. She caught glimpses of large cabinets and sofas and intricately patterned rugs and long tables. Even just by these small glances she could tell that it was by far the grandest house she had ever been in.
The corridor led into a large room. All Éponine could see in here was red – that was the first, overwhelming thought that she had. All of the wood in here was rich and dark, the walls the colour of blood with matching sofas and armchairs set around a wide mahogany table with short legs.
But on the far wall was a set of windows, stretching from the floor to the ceiling, and Éponine realised that the ones in the middle were in fact doors and they were propped open.
"Mademoiselle Foucquet is here to see you, mademoiselle," Anne said, standing to one side.
Éléonore strode forwards towards these doors, which led onto a room with glass walls.
Éponine followed her inside. The walls were high, leading to a domed ceiling, and everything in this room was white, from the shiny marble floors to the long table to the vases, and in all of the vases were large green plants broken up by flowers of all colours and sizes. It meant that the light that shone through the glass reflected and made the room almost uncomfortably bright. There was a large door at the far end which was also open, and framed in the doorway, almost glowing from all the brightness, was a woman who could only be Clémence Lefebvre.
She was tall – that was possibly the first thing that Éponine noticed – and her hair was red, but not the fiery ginger of Éléonore's mane, but a deeper, richer colour, almost like red wine. It was done in a complicated style – lots of little plaits wound into loops and then longer, thicker plaits trailing over her shoulders. Her face was what Éponine would call handsome – she had pretty blue eyes, but her nose and mouth was too wide to be considered traditionally beautiful.
What really caught Éponine's attention was what she was wearing. The dress was long, pooling over the marble floor, and it was made from ivory lace. It clung to every inch of her body, even her arms, but what made it scandalous was the neckline – it dipped in a narrow, dramatic V-shape to just above her navel, and there was a rather dramatic necklace fashioned from a net of large diamonds covering her exposed chest.
Just as Éponine had never seen a house as grand as this one, she had also never seen a woman wear something quite like that.
Clémence was smiling – or was it more of a smirk? Éponine couldn't tell.
"Clémence," Éléonore said.
"Éléonore," Clémence replied. "How nice it is to see you. You haven't changed at all."
"Neither have you. This is Éponine, the girl I have told you about." Éléonore reached out and took hold of Éponine's hand and pulled her forwards.
"Hello, Éponine," Clémence said. "And there is a third – I do not remember agreeing to see a third."
"My name is Combeferre, and I am here to support Éponine," Combeferre said before anyone else could respond on his behalf.
"Are you her lover?" Clémence asked bluntly.
Combeferre's cheeks flushed and he shook his head. "I am not. I am a friend, nothing more."
Clémence strode forwards, her dress dragging over the marble floor, until she was inches away from Éponine. Experience told Éponine not to flinch, not even when Clémence took Éponine's chin between her thumb and forefinger and tilted her head backwards. Éponine met Clémence's pale blue eyes and didn't look away.
"Hmm…No, you're right…You're not lovers, and you never will be…There are men in Éponine's future, but you are not one of them, Combeferre…" Clémence smiled. "Men of the sun," she murmured, under her breath, but then she stepped away and gestured at the table and chairs that occupied the conservatory. "Please, sit."
Éponine did as she was instructed.
"We will have food in a few moments," Clémence said, taking the chair at the head of the table. "So…"
Éléonore cleared her throat. "I believe I told you about Éponine's experiences in our letters, and then what happened a few days ago I had a messenger inform you this morning, so there's no point in repeating it."
Éponine was grateful that Éléonore said that, as she didn't fancy going over all the finer details again – particularly not the night that Fantine disappeared.
"Ah, but I do love a good story," Clémence said, resting her elbow on the tabletop and cupping her chin in her hand. A moment later, a troop of girls came in, all clad in purple and gold, and carrying plates with various different cakes and pastries on them. They placed them on the table and then left.
"Éponine has found her experiences very difficult, Clémence," Éléonore said, a note of admonishment in her voice. "So I think we should keep this as simple as possible."
Clémence sat back in her chair. "Please, help yourself to some food," she said.
No one moved.
Clémence sighed and reached out to pick up a small iced cake. She stared at it for a few moments and then put it back onto the plate, before rubbing her fingertips together.
"I have met many people with your talents, Éponine, but few people who share all of them," Clémence said. "Your abilities are rare, as I'm sure Éléonore has told you."
"I already know that," Éponine said, feeling impatient.
"Yes, that's the easy part," Clémence said, cocking her head to one side. "You combine three separate things, which I have termed dead states. Most people are very basic – they're just dead, to be quite simple about it. Éléonore is one of those people, and so is Combeferre. They have no special abilities. However, there are other dead states which do possess special abilities, as you might have gathered."
Éponine nodded.
"There are a lot of different states," Clémence continued. "I am only going to tell you about the ones that you possess – at the moment, there is no need for you to know about the others."
Éponine reached out and picked up a small, pale pink macaroon with jam oozing from the middle. She took a bite and chewed, trying to keep herself occupied so she didn't start ripping the shawl around her shoulders through nervous fidgeting.
"I'll begin with the simplest of the states," Clémence said. "You have the ability to create Portals at will – all states here can do that but normal people, such as Éléonore or Combeferre, have little control over them. Their creation of Portals is involuntary, both the opening and closing of them. You, however, with practice, would be able to control them at will. You also have the ability to control other people's Portals. I refer to people who possess this ability as Openers, or Closers…It's up to the individual, I suppose, but most choose Openers. I suppose it sounds more positive."
Éponine glanced towards Combeferre. There was a look of concentration on his face. She wasn't sure why – this seemed fairly straightforward to Éponine, and it wasn't really anything that Éléonore hadn't already told her that time when she had closed Inès' Portal.
Clémence bowed her head a little before starting to speak again. "The next state, I call a Ghost. It's because that's what you become – this is basically the ability to travel between the land of the living, and the land of the dead. When you are in the land of the living, you have the ability to communicate with the living, and through the power of touch, allow other dead states to communicate with the living as well. Similarly, you can send others to the land of the living, and communicate with the living through Portals if you so wish. Naturally the living do not understand these events and has led to them terming such states as ghosts so I follow them on this. It is, after all, what a dead state becomes when in the lands of the living."
"A ghost?" Éponine shook her head. "I'm a Ghost?"
"Yes, and no," Clémence replied slowly. "It's what I call those who possess the ability, and I suppose it is what you become when you are in the lands of the living. But sat here, right now, you're just…Well, you're Éponine, I suppose – you're a dead person. Are you following me?"
"No," Éponine said honestly, "But I don't…Never mind. What is the third state?"
"Ah." Clémence smiled. "The third state is a little more complicated as I have to explain some…other aspects…"
Éponine wished she would just get on with it if that were the case, but she didn't say as much out loud. There was a long pause, then Clémence began to talk again.
"The lands of the dead are vast," she began. "It is incomprehensible just how big they actually are – if you can try and imagine, this place must hold all of the people who have ever lived and died, those who have not moved on already, of course…It is also split into different areas. This area you inhabit roughly corresponds to Paris, and some areas outside it. That means that everyone who dies in Paris will wake up here. Lying outside the boundaries of this area are the places that neighbour Paris. Beyond them is the rest of France, and then beyond that is other countries. But even though these areas are massive in scale, they can also seem rather small. You are never very far from the walls that form the area's boundaries. These boundaries are not able to be crossed by normal states. However, some people need to leave the area they died in, for their own…Personal reasons. The incident that happened with you a few days ago, with the family of people, needed to be in Paris, but only one of the party actually died here. She needed to travel through these other zones to get here. The only way to get through the walls is to be touched by someone like you, Éponine. There are states who can move through the barriers around the areas at will, and obviously help others through them as well. That family will have met many people like you on their travels, Éponine. I call them Pushers."
Éponine looked down at her lap. "So I have…Those are the three abilities I possess?"
"Yes," Clémence said. "You are an Opener, Ghost and Pusher all rolled into one. I have not yet come up with a term to refer to people such as yourself, but I am working on it…"
"And what does it mean?" Éponine demanded. "Why can I do all of this?"
"I can only speculate…" Clémence said quietly, and she shrugged. Then she stood, very quickly and very suddenly. "Would you like to take a walk with me in the gardens, Éponine?"
"What?" Éponine furrowed her brow.
"I will explain more in the gardens, if you will walk with me now," Clémence said. "Alone," she added, when Éléonore and Combeferre looked as if they might stand up.
Éponine rose slowly, swallowing. She looked to Combeferre for help, and he in turn glanced to Éléonore, but she almost imperceptibly gave a shake of her head.
Clémence walked over to the door, her skirts rustling.
"Come along, Éponine," Clémence commanded, and Éponine felt she had no choice but to follow.
A/N: If there's any of the explanation that is confusing please let me know so I can either fit a better explanation in the following chapters/in another author's note/in a private message :) This is actually coming a few chapters early as I intended to drag it out a bit longer but I felt mean haha…But there's more to come in the next chapter.