Miraculous: Tales of Ladybug and Cat Noir

The Devil in Paris, Chapter 8

Adoptions. And Crystals

….

Don't own, you know the drill.

….

As soon as she was able, Marinette (with Ayla's help), went to visit Mr. Damocles. He'd been moved out of ICU and was in a regular room. Even in her wheelchair, it was no easy journey.

Denis Damocles was lying on his back in his bed. He gave a start when he saw Marinette and Ayla coming in. "Hello, girls. Uhm, you'll have to excuse me if I don't get up.

"How are you doing, Marinette?"

Whu? Thought Marinette. Then, "Oh, I'm fine. But I heard you weren't. What happened?" Even though they both knew, it seemed like a starting point for the conversation.

Mr. Damocles lowered his gaze, down towards his feet. "Apparently I got into a bit of an argument with a car. It didn't go so well, for me."

"We heard about that," said Ayla. "They're hunting for the driver even now. This, what happened to you, is serious business, Mr. Damocles."

"They won't find any driver," said Denis Damocles. "And they won't find any car. I can almost guarantee that."

"How-how do you know?"

"This has-had-all the hallmarks of a deliberate act. I'm told the car wasn't even registering on the traffic control system. It takes some doing to disconnect a vehicle from Paris' monitoring system. And that being the case, I'm reasonably sure the driver-if there was one-took steps to remain out of the picture.

"The car is probably in pieces-and at the bottom of the Seine. The driver-assuming there was somebody actually in the driver's seat, and the car wasn't being remote-controlled-could easily be thousands of miles away."

"You think somebody tried to murder you?" Marinette couldn't grasp it. Mr. Damocles had always been a nice, understanding person, a fair person, even in those times when he'd been "pressured" by Mayor Andre Bourgeois to grant Chloe some favor, definitely not deserving of a fate like this.

"That appears to be the case, Marinette." Now he turned his head towards them. "Unfortunately, there are such people in the world. And they seldom need much motivation." He sighed. "It's quite possible that the car was being controlled by someone not even in this hemisphere."

This was getting too depressing. "Well, what are the doctors saying about your…you know." Too late she realized she'd chosen the wrong topic if she wanted to avoid "depressing,"

"In a word, 'wheelchair.' Fortunately, my insurance covers it all, and they're actually recommending one of those new, ground-effect chairs." Again a sigh. "But it will mean some…changes for me. I'll have to learn to do a lot of things I once took for granted. I'm told it will be a long, arduous process." Then he brightened. "But enough about me. What about you? What are the doctors saying about you?"

"Oh," Marinette blushed, remembering Chloe's "present." "I'm fine. Just have to get my strength back and I'll be discharged. This just hit me out of nowhere."

"Indeed. My second cousin came down with this, a year or so ago. The only good thing I can tell you about it is, it's a relatively minor operation, these days. Doesn't even leave a scar."

"It, uh...doesn't?" What a relief!

"Not with modern techniques. You may be sore for a while, but that's sort of unavoidable. After all, they did have to remove a bodily organ. Your body will have to adjust to that."

"Well, that's a relief…" They both reflected on the irony of it: here, they'd come down here to comfort Mr. Damocles, and he'd ended up comforting them. "Well, uhm, we don't need to tire you out. We just wanted to see how you were doing."

He actually chuckled. "Well, of course, I do have my wishes regarding my current condition, but-hey, look on the bright side: I'll always have the best seat in the house when I go to the movies!" All three of them laughed at that.

Later, with Marinette safely back in her room (and awaiting tomorrow's eval, to determine if she was well enough to be discharged), Ayla asked her: "Marinette, did any of that seem a little…odd…to you? About Mr. Damocles, I mean."

Marinette thought. In truth, Mr. Damocles had been handling his crippling experience rather well. She shared this with Ayla. "Yeah, I know," said the latter, "Almost too well. I mean, a sudden accident-that may not have been an accident-renders him wheelchair-bound, and he actually can joke about it?"

"Yeah. But I'm sure they've given him the best psychiatric care there is. After all, that's what such things are for."

"Well, anyway, let's concentrate on you, bestie. I don't think you'll be…indulging in your, uh, extracurricular activities for a while. I'll 'Ladybug' it in your absence…" But then she noticed Marinette's solemn expression. "What? It's just for a couple of days. And nothing's been happening! I'll just make a patrol or two with Cat Noir-*"

"Ayla," broke in Marinette, "I'm afraid my secret's blown. At least with him."

"Huh? Why do you say that?"

"How hard would it be to connect the dots? I go into the hospital-and Ladybug disappears. I come out-and while I'm recuperating, Ladybug-my version, at least-is a no-show. Until Marinette Dupain-Cheng gets back in the groove-and then here comes his Ladybug again. He's not stupid; he'll figure it out."

Ayla came over and sat beside her on the bed. "You're giving him too much credit. Paris is a big city. Yeah, you got sick. And yeah, he knows Ladybug fairly well. But how well does he know Marinette Dupain-Cheng? I mean, have you ever really gotten to know him, in your," she reflexively looked around, "you know, regular form? You don't even know who he is. Besides, couldn't you just, y'know, play sick, while going out on patrol? That way he wouldn't think anything of it. You, bestie, would still be out of it-but there's Ladybug, right there with him."

"I, I wonder if I shouldn't just go ahead and tell him."

"That has 'disaster' written all over it. Not as long as Monarch is running loose. And that reminds me: I came across some interesting stuff you just gotta see, once you get back home."

"'Work-related'?"

"Eh, sort of."

Just as Marinette was about to inquire further, there was a knock on the door. "Hello!" said a familiar voice. "Marinette?"

"Damien? What are you doing here?"

Upon hearing his name, Damien cracked open the door. "Is it okay to come in? I mean, I know visiting hours are about to close, but I just now got something in the mail for you. From my cousin, Daniel, in America."

"Oh! Uhm, sure…" Even though Ayla was vigorously gesturing, no! No! Damien was famous, or perhaps infamous, for making a bad situation worse.

He opened the door all the way. "This just arrived, and I wanted to get it to you at the earliest time." He was holding a small heavy cardboard box. "I told Daniel about what had happened to you, and he and Claire-especially Claire-couldn't rest until they'd sent you this." He presented her with the box.

"Er…what is it?" The box wasn't big enough for another blasphemous swimsuit.

"Open it and see."

Marinette did. Within was a small, perfectly shaped sphere of some sort of greenish-blue crystal. The workmanship, the polishing, was exquisite, and, as both Marinette and Ayla looked, it seemed as though there was a light, like a small candleflame flickering within the crystal. "Claire's big into the healing powers of crystals, and nothing would do but that they had to get this to you. Crystals like these are famous for promoting rapid healing."

Ayla seemed mesmerized by the crystal sphere. "This isn't like that crys-*"

He raised a warning finger. "Ah ah. Not a word of that. But no, this is not like that."

"Is that a flame I see in there?"

"The veils reflect incoming light. But if you keep this with you, you'll heal faster. I guarantee it."

Marinette smiled. That was just Damien. Even though they'd trashed his apartment, and lost a crystal that apparently meant a lot to him, here he was, ready to let bygones be bygones. "Well, thank you, Damien." She reached up, intending to pull him down for a thank-you peck on the cheek-but stopped when she saw his expression.

He looked scared. "Ah, I, ah, I'm sorry, Damien, I, I…"

"No, no, no, you're perfectly alright." He sighed, with the air of one about to reveal a long-kept secret. "It's just-*"

"All visitors, visiting hours are now closed. Repeat, visiting hours are now closed. Tomorrow's visitation hours will begin at nine AM. Repeat: all visiting hours are now closed. All visitors, please make your way to the appropriate exits. Thank you."

"Oh, grief," said Damien. Then he turned a sheepish smile on Marinette and Ayla both. "Sorry. Gotta go."

After he'd left, Marinette turned to Ayla. "Was it just me," she began, "or did the notion of my puckered lips on his cheek actually frighten him?"

"It wasn't just you," mused Ayla, chewing, distractedly, on a fingernail. She moved around to the side of the bed where Damien had been, and examined the floor. "Well, he didn't leave his shoes and socks, so I guess you didn't scare him out of those. And I don't see any scorch marks on the floor. But I guess if we ever need to deep-interrogate him, we know what works, right? Hey, we could take turns: just kiss on him until he talks. Better than waterboarding, I bet."

A blushing Marinette was dividing her time between stifling laughter and looking for something to throw. "You," she said, "are evil."

"God knows I try hard enough."

….

Marinette was discharged the next day, and her parents were there to help her move out. Her mother was especially concerned, her frustrations evident in the numerous questions she asked of the doctors. All this while Tom Dupain, by contrast, worked out his frustrations by trying to cram all of the toys and gifts Marinette's school friends had brought her into the garment bags they'd brought. This was no easy task; her friends had brought quite a few.

Ayla had already decided to sort-of sneak the bathing suit Chloe had given Marinette out, with none the wiser. After all, one has to cover for one's bestie, once in a while.

For Marinette, returning to her room above her parents' bakery was like a sinner receiving a pardon from Hell. The hospital, and the nurses and doctors there, had all been wonderful, but a hospital, no matter how good, is just never home. And that was where Marinette most longed to be.

"Wheee!" She pirouetted in place, there in the middle of her room. Everything was just as she left it (except for several bags of "Get Well" cards from her friends at school.

Ayla had taken a bit more practical approach. "Okay, knowing you, I'm sure you'll digitize these cards, put 'em up on the web. But you also make a physical scrapbook, won't you?"

"Oh, of course!" She couldn't see herself as throwing away these precious mementos for any reason

Ayla was making a list. "Okay, that's one thing. Now." She put down the notepad-such things were safer for keeping secrets-she fished out the Ladybug earrings. "You want these now? Or would you rather I hold onto 'em, for a while?"

"Uhm." That was a good question. "I…don't know about going on patrol this soon. Although I feel ten thousand times better, I don't think I'm up to fighting akumas and sentimonsters just yet."

"Then I'll hang on to 'em, for the time being. Maybe I can use my illusion power to make people see Rena Rouge as Ladybug. After all, Lila did that once, and I'm certainly as good as she is. More so.

"Hm. That's…not a bad idea. But-and don't take this the wrong way, but-do you think you do the job? Things seem to work differently for you."

Ayla gave her a look. "I can manage. It won't be long, anyway. Oh, but I almost forgot! There's someone here who's been dying to meet you!" Again she handed the earrings to Marinette, whose hands had no sooner touched them but that a plump red figure shot out from within the enchanted earrings, and made straight for Marinette's face.

"Oh, Marinette!" said Tiki, spiraling around Marinette's head, and finally catching her whole face in a hug, "I was so worried! I was right there with you and Miss Ayla the whole time you were in the hospital, but I didn't dare come out." The little kwami pulled back slightly, looking at Marinette, a sour expression on her face. "Is that the way all human hospitals work? Just blast into your private room whenever they get the urge? And why did they have to draw blood at two AM in the morning? You were sleeping so good, and they wake you up to stick a piece of steel in you? How is that supposed to help?"

Marinette couldn't stop laughing. Next to Ayla, Tiki, the kwami of creation, was her best friend and confidente. "It was all just procedure, Tiki. I guess they had to have the blood tests-and the results-before the doctors made their rounds in the morning. But that's all behind me now." I hope. "But look." And her sober tone of voice caught Tiki's attention. "You remember, right before I went into the hospital, Cat Noir and I were fighting these gross flying eyeball things? Do you have any idea what they could've been?"

Tiki stopped her "Welcome Home" hugging marathon at the mention of the creatures. "Noooo…can't say I recognized them. They weren't akumas or sentimonsters, of that, I'm sure." She shuddered. "But if I were you, I'd stay as far away from them as I possibly could."

"They didn't seem all that bad. Were they?"

"Not so much in themselves. Oh, they were bad enough, but its…" she paused, something neither girl had ever seen the kwami do. "You know how humans play that game where you line up-what are they called again? Oh, yes, dominos-and set them so that, when one falls, it triggers the falls of the ones in front? They're sort of like that. Yeah, by themselves, they're bad, but it's what they represent that really makes 'em bad.

"Or, a better analogy: an atomic bomb. By itself, inert, with all the safety locks on and functioning, it's no threat to anybody. But if somebody-or some thing-deliberately sets it to go off…then, yeah, it's very dangerous. But by itself, it's just a thing.

"These things you fought were like that. They were weapons, weapons that had once been living beings, but were now just…things. It's what sent them here that made them dangerous."

"So what sent them?" asked Ayla, hanging on to every word.

Again Tiki shuddered. "Something terrible."

"Hey, kids!" Tom Dupain's upper torso burst through Marinette's trapdoor like a piece of toast. With desperate speed, Tiki zipped behind Marinette. Electronics couldn't sense the kwamis, but living human eyes could. "Come on down! I just took up some excellent eclairs! And we got a package! It's addressed to the whole family, including you, Ayla! I think it's from Damien's cousin in America! C'mon down while we open it up!"

The two girls looked at each other. A package? From Damien's people?

And Tom's eclairs….they could already feel their mouths watering.

Downstairs: The package, a sizable box, lay on the table. Marinette couldn't see anything to show delivery service….but the return address simply read:

"Claire and Daniel Bendarian

"Mesa Forks, Colorado 81864

"USA"

"Huh," she said, "Damien's talked about his cousin and…I guess his wife?...this must be from them. But I wonder why it didn't come straight from him? For that matter, he could have just brought it." Providing I didn't traumatize the poor boy so much the other day that he avoids me. Which is possible. I guess.

"Well, open it up and let's see!" Ayla was sitting on the edge of her seat, coffee in one hand, fresh, hot eclair in the other.

With some trepidation (remembering Chloe's "present,"), Marinette snapped open the box. Within, carefully packaged, were a number of crystal pendants on thin chains. She took one out.

It was small, and the chain was so tiny, so thin, that she couldn't help but wonder at its durability. Each of the others also took out a pendant, ooohs and ahhhs going around the table. The pendants were beautiful.

"What are these?" breathed Sabine Cheng, accepting one. "I've never seen anything like them.

Each pendant was about a centimeter long, more or less bullet-shaped, fastened to its necklace at the flat part of the base through some means not easily discernable. Each one seemed to have a slight flicker deep within, similar to the reflective veils in the healing crystal Damien had presented Marinette with, albeit much smaller, and seemingly of a different colour.

The chains themselves, silver in appearance, had no latch. Apparently one was just supposed to drape them around one's head and neck. Although she had some misgivings, Marinette slipped hers on, noting that Ayla, the daredevil, had already put hers on. "Say, look," said Ayla, "There's a note."

She fished it out and, after a brief moment when her curiosity warred with her manners, handed it to Marinette. Marinette unfolded the paper-funny; it didn't look or feel like any paper she'd ever encountered-and was not surprised to see that it was written in perfect French.

"To: Marinette, Ayla, and whoever else might be there:

"My name is Claire Smithers Bendarian. My husband's cousin is Damien Tennien Bendarian. He has told us of the problems you've been having lately, problems of a, shall we say, an unusual nature.

"You can consider these pendants to be, well, I suppose you'd say, 'Good Luck Charms' for lack of a better term. I don't know how you feel about such things; perhaps you'll regard them as mere superstition, but I assure they are anything but. They really do work. And they have an additional quality which I'll tell you about later. Two, actually.

"I encourage you to wear them at all times. They will never corrode, tarnish, or get dirty, are water and rust-proof, and both pendant and chain are just this side of indestructible.

"I won't say they'll guard you from all malevolent influences, but they will ward off most evil and negative influences up to a point. A rather extreme point.

"I sincerely hope you never have to use them. But as the old saying goes, 'better to have it and not need it than need it and not have it.'

"Damien spoke highly of you all. That means a lot to us. You are of us now, and we look after our own.

"I've enclosed several prepaid envelopes so that you can let me know how you are doing. Please do so. This is more important than you know.

"And while this may sound crazy, should there be a true emergency, life or death, or worse, you may use the pendants to summon one or more of us. Simply grasp the crystal in your hand and think to any of us, and we will hear and respond. As I said, I know that sounds crazy, but look at it this way: what can it hurt?"

The letter was signed:

Sincerely,

Claire Smithers Bendarian

"One more thing: Please give one each of these pendants to Manon Chamack and Chris Lahiff. I sense lines of danger around them both."

"Well," said Ayla, "Looks like we've been adopted. And that Damien doesn't bear a grudge."

Marinette breathed a sigh of relief. "Of that, I'm glad. But I'm not sure about this relationship, this being essentially adopted by people I've never met. Guess it's not too bad; Mesa Forks is, after all, half a world away."

"Hmmmmm," Hmm'd Ayla, to herself. The others were busy admiring their pendants. "I wonder…"

"Wonder what?"

All at once, Ayla became evasive. "Oh, nothing, really. Just my imagination running overtime, that's all.:

But Marinette knew her friend too well. She leaned over into whispering distance and whispered, "You," she said, "are lying through your teeth."

"Well, of course I am. After all, I can't lie through my ears!"

….

Afterwards, up in Marinette's room: Ayla was busy comparing the pendants they'd received with the healing orb sent to Marinette, by all evidence, from Claire, herself. She'd placed the crystal orb, with its strange internal flicker, in a shaded area, where there was little light to reflect-and placed the pendants, both hers and Marinette's, alongside it. "Wish I had a spectroscope," she muttered, chewing on a knuckle. "We have to have some light…but that crystal sphere of yours seems to emit more light than it should, considering how much ambient light there is in this corner. Those pendants seem to emit about the same as anywhere in the room."

"Spit it out, Ayla."

"Damien told us they reflected incoming light, which bounced off the internal veils, producing that glow."

"Actually, he didn't." said Marinette.

"Hah?"

"He said, 'the veils reflect incoming light.' He never actually said that's what made them glow."

"Eh, six of one, half-dozen of another…"

"Is it?" asked Marinette. "Is it really? I've seen this sphere glowing in the dark of my room, at night-when there wasn't any light to reflect. And what he said…wasn't really an answer to our question, you know."

"So what are you thinking? Radiation, maybe?"

"If it was radiation of some sort, wouldn't it be warm to the touch? But this-and the pendants-are quite cold. Not ice-cube cold; just rock cold."

The two were silent for a moment. Then, "Marinette? Did you notice anything unusual in that box?"

"It was all pretty unusual, Ayla. Why? What did you have in mind?"

By way of response, Ayla reached into her pocket and pulled out yet another pendant, handed it to Marinette. "This one came, well, earmarked to someone, I guess you'd say. I saw it and grabbed it before anyone could notice." She handed the pendant to Marinette.

At first, Marinette was confused. Then she saw the piece of adhesive paper wrapped around necklace. She tore it off-and on the inside was a hand-drawn picture of a humanoid cat's face, complete with black mask and black ears. The caption below it read: For him.

Marinette and Ayla just looked at each other.

To be continued…