Reynaud's Redemption, стр. 26
* * * *
Reynaud looked around bewildered. He was home in the house he had shared with Angele. It was unchanged.
“But how can this be?”
He continued walking only to discover that it was true. Reynaud touched his temple and shook his head, but before he could question further, Baptiste walked by him. He carried his beloved Angele in his arms like a new bride. Anger immediately flooded Reynaud’s senses.
“How dare you put your hands on him,” he growled.
Baptiste disappeared down a hall, not answering. Reynaud’s heart pounded hard.
“No!”
He rushed after them, arriving at the doorway just as Baptiste laid Angele’s limp body beside his own sleeping form.
“No. This has already happened.”
Reynaud took a deep breath and tears stung his eyes. Dizziness assailed him. The room spun around him. A soft, sinister chuckle reached his ears. He clasped his hands to both sides of his head in an effort to block the sound.
“You have held your station long enough, Reynaud Leduc. I think it is time someone else had it… Namely me.”
Reynaud opened his eyes, turning to the voice. He focused on the man before him. They stared at each other, eye to eye, neither blinking nor backing down.
“Your treachery has no bounds, Baptiste. Why not aim your venom at me directly? What did Angele have to do with your hate?” he asked.
“Your Angele was merely a casualty of war,” Baptiste explained. “As Madame Cousteau’s favorite, I could not openly attack you. I had to discredit you in the eyes of the council, so when you finally fell, not even she could help you.”
Bile rose in Reynaud’s stomach leaving a bad taste in his mouth as he looked at his rival. Baptiste’s laughter rang in his ears again as he looked him over.
“The great Reynaud Leduc has finally been beaten by the even better Baptiste St John,” he roared, resuming his gaiety.
Reynaud squeezed his eyes shut and pressed his palms to his ears again. The hysterical laughter swarmed around his head. He fell to his knees. Baptiste’s face multiplied in his mind’s eye, locked with his sinister smile circling him menacingly, closing in on him.
Reynaud.
A whisper broke through the madness.
Reynaud.
He concentrated on it, focused on a tiny light guiding him from a dark tunnel.
Come to me, Reynaud, before it’s too late. I will help you.
Drawn to the sound, his form floated from the floor, leaving Baptiste’s voice behind.
Reynaud gasped and sprang to an upright position, sweating and breathing hard. Confused at first as to where he was, he took in his surroundings with a raised eyebrow. The area around him brightened with the rising sun. Nodding and muttering to himself, he rubbed his temple and concentrated on his dream. He knew exactly where to go. It would take some time to get there on foot but his search would be over soon. He closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths. As he stood, he noticed fresh grass growing in the dirt where he had slept. His magic restored the earth bringing life to the grass where there was none. A knowing grin spread across his face. He was getting stronger.
“I’m on my way, Madame.”
* * * *
Baptiste paced the floor of his office. He tugged at his jacket and adjusted the shirt sticking to his damp skin. As he passed his desk, he picked up the cloth and wiped the sweat from his brow again. With a deep breath, he jerked his neck from side to side then rolled his shoulders before returning to the window. Staring through the glass, he raised his hand and concentrated on the blooms just beyond. Responding to his will, the rosebuds shook then tilted in his direction. The petals opened beautifully and the red of its pedals deepened in color. A small smile touched his lips but before a sigh of relief could leave his mouth, the entire bush burst into raging flames and ignited two others adjacent to it.
“Damn it,” he yelled, slamming his fist against the pane.
Acknowledging the click of the door with a mere shift of his eyes, Baptiste kept his attention forward, staring at the small inferno. His workers appeared with buckets, frantically throwing water onto the fire as they looked about, seemingly searching for the source of the blaze.
“Sir?”
The concerned edge in the voice of his right-hand man resonated in his ears, but the sound only irritated him.
“What is it, Maxwell?” he demanded, turning to face him.
Maxwell’s eyes went wide and his voice faltered. “I… I think it would be best if you took the rest of the day off, Mr St John. I will have Reggie bring the car around,” he said and left the room without waiting for a reply.
Though still frustrated, Maxwell’s odd behavior gave him pause. Baptiste had done many things in Maxwell’s presence over the years. He had seen a wide range of emotions from the man, but that was the first time he had ever seen fear in his confidant’s eyes.
Baptiste walked into the adjoining room. He looked into the mirror and gasped. The image staring back at him was indeed his reflection but unlike anything he had ever seen before. He turned his face to and fro, touching his cheek. Where his eyes were supposed to be brown, they