Chapter 3
She took a sip of wine not releasing my gaze.
Then her hand slowly fell so she could rest it against the arm of the chair and she continued to hold my eyes.
Finally, she announced, "I am Valentine Rousseau. Like you, I'm not of this world. I live in New Orleans. And I'm a witch."
I stared at her, feeling my lips part and thinking one word.
Fabulous.
Chapter Two.
Deep to Extremes "Not of this world?" I asked quietly when she didn't continue.
She nodded her head but said, "I would advise, beautiful Ilsa, that you listen closely and quickly come to terms with all I'm about to tell you. I have little time before Ulfr gets back. He'll want to make certain you're seen to, but he'll not want to be separated from you for long."
I ignored that and repeated, "Not of this world?" Then I kept at it without giving her a chance to respond. "What is this world? And you're a witch? What does that mean?"
"We'll start at the beginning," she offered.
"That'd be a good idea," I replied, pus.h.i.+ng myself up in the bed so my shoulders were against the headboard and I managed to do this only flinching a little bit at the pain.
She watched me as I moved and her eyes narrowed slightly, like I'd surprised her.
But she didn't mention that.
She started from the beginning which should have been a blessing but it turned out to be somewhat of a curse. Or, if not a curse in the strictest sense, it was definitely bizarre, confusing and maybe not so good.
"I am a witch from a long line of witches," she began. "And when I say that, cherie, my people have practiced the craft in New Orleans for centuries, and before that we practiced in France. Before that Rome. And before that...Egypt."
Visions of faces forming out of sandstorms and ma.s.sive armies of huge-a.s.s beetles crawling all over the place a la the movie The Mummy collided in my head even as I blinked in shock at what she was saying.
Then I made the best decision I'd made in a long time. I reached out to the winegla.s.s, nabbed it and took a big old sip.
As I did so, Valentine continued. "Therefore, the craft being pa.s.sed through my line for millennia, I am powerful. Very. This power gives me the ability to move between worlds, which is very difficult and consumes an enormous amount of magic. And with the strength born in me through countless generations of witches, I can not only move myself at will and as often as I like, I can also move others."
Move between worlds.
Oh boy.
I was already ready for her to be done but, alas, she kept going.
"And you will see, of course, looking around you, that you are no longer in our world. You're in a parallel universe. Specifically Fleuridia, my favorite of the countries in the Northlands. Though, saying that, I have no favorite in the Southlands." She gave a delicate shudder that was barely a movement but said it all about whatever the freaking Southlands were. Then she finished. "And you will have noted that in this parallel universe, we have twins, as you've already met your husband's."
Okay.
Seriously.
How hard had Pol hit me with that gun?
"I see you don't believe me," she stated, telling me I was not hiding my reaction in the slightest. "And this is what I wish for you to come to terms with quickly, for I speak the truth."
When she quit talking, I held her eyes and laid it out.
"Let me get this straight. Twenty minutes ago, I was running from my husband, a really not very good husband I've been running from for years. He caught me, started to do what he does best, that being inflicting pain. Then you and that other Pol show up, coming from another dimension. The other Pol wears romance novel guy clothes and he also doesn't hesitate in cutting off the Pol of my dimension's hand and whacking him upside the head with the flat of his sword. After that, you spirited us to wherever-we-are-now which is someplace that has twins of people in our dimension, very comfortable beds and really lovely winegla.s.ses."
"We are not in another dimension, cherie," she corrected. "We are in a parallel universe."
"There's a difference?" I asked.
"Oh yes," she answered. "There's only one parallel universe but there are many different dimensions and you don't want to go to any
"Well, thanks for not taking me to another dimension," I muttered and sucked back another healthy sip of wine.
She leaned slightly forward, again catching my eyes and her smooth voice was deadly serious when she stated, "Ilsa, this is not a jest. This is not a hallucination. This is not a dream. This is real. All you will experience in the coming days and weeks will seem very strange to you and you must prepare for it, accept it and adapt to it. Quickly. That said, you are here now, you're safe, and you're not going back. But with what is to come, it's important that you adjust swiftly to your new circ.u.mstances."
That didn't sound great. None of it did, to be honest. But that really didn't.
"With what's to come?" I inquired when she didn't explain.
She threw out her hand not holding her winegla.s.s. "That's not for now. What you must understand for now is that you're safe here, you must learn to trust in that, and," she leaned deeper toward me, "the man who just left this room is not the Pol you know. He's Apollo Ulfr of the House of Ulfr of the ice country of the north-Lunwyn."
"Pol is also Apollo Ulfr of the, um...House of Ulfr, I guess, but from the rain city of Portland," I joked, perhaps getting a little hysterical (and who would blame me?).
"Again, this is not amusing." Her voice held a vein of impatience. "This is real. And you must understand these two men are not the same man," she stressed.
"I got that," I mumbled and took another sip of wine.
"Cherie,"-more leaning and her eyes got kind of scary- "they...are not...the same man."
She was freaking me out and to freak out while freaking out didn't feel all that great.
So the only thing I could do was whisper, "Okeydokey."
She studied me a moment before she sat back. "It will be difficult, with what you've endured at the hand of the other Apollo, to remember that. But don't forget it."
"You've made your point," I a.s.sured her.
"I haven't," she disagreed. "You see, in each world the same people reside, yet they aren't the same."
"You've already told me that," I reminded her, wondering how she could forget considering we were still talking about it.
"No, beautiful Ilsa, you're too dazed by all that's occurred to put it together. If there are two Apollos, then there are two Ilsas."
Uh-oh.
More not good.
She wasn't done.
"Alas, the Ilsa of this world is no longer of this world. She has pa.s.sed."
Oh my G.o.d.
The other me was dead?
That sucked!
Valentine still wasn't done and she had a whopper of a grand finale.
"And she was the wife of the Apollo of this world."
Oh boy.
"Holy c.r.a.p," I whispered.
"Indeed," she replied.
"I don't get it," I told her. "What does that mean?"
It hit me that I knew what it meant; my eyes flew to the shadows where I heard the door open and close when Apollo left then I looked back to her.
"s.h.i.+t, does he think she's me? Or I'm her? Or..."-I threw out a hand- "whatever?"
"He does not. He's aware of the twins. He knows you are not her. But that didn't stop him from acquiring my services to find you and bring you to him. I am far from inexpensive, cherie, and I warned him of your plight in our world and that you might not receive him very well. But he was very determined. "
None of this was good. It was weird. Bizarre. Unbelievable. Fantastical.
And it wasn't getting any better.
"I'm not certain that's good," I shared my understatement.
"I agree. I don't know how the other Ilsa died. I don't know when she died. I do know it has been some time. And I also know that in that time, his grief has not faded. Not at all."
That tenderness I saw in his eyes.
And the pain.
Yep. This wasn't getting any better.
"I'm not her," I whispered.
"I am aware of that," she replied, not in a whisper.
We held each other's eyes. When I couldn't take it anymore, I sucked back another healthy sip of wine, straightened my shoulders against the headboard and again looked at her.
"So, I'm in a parallel universe, safe from Pol, which is good normally but now it's better because he's going to be seriously p.i.s.sed he no longer has a hand, as anyone would be but Pol will take that to his usual extremes. And extremes of his extremes, my guess, would be catastrophic. And I'm with another Pol, who's not Pol but Apollo, and he brought me here to replace his dead wife."
She shook her head again.
"Do not mistake that man for a man who would allow grief to dull his intellect," she warned. "He was driven to have you here but he is also very aware that you are not the woman he loved and lost. I do not know his intentions in having you here. I know only that he is a man of character. A man of honor. A very brave man. And last, one who feels deeply. Deeper than most. I would even go so far as to say deep to extremes, even if he rarely shows it."
I was thinking that was good and bad. The other Pol felt deep to extremes and his extremes were no good.
But the Pol I knew had no problems showing it. It was me who had a problem with the way he showed it.
This was a lot to take in but I was beginning to find it hard to concentrate. Either due to the blow to the face or my adrenaline cras.h.i.+ng, suddenly I was fading.
Valentine saw it and I felt the winegla.s.s sliding out of my hand.
I blinked up at her, drowsiness coming on so quickly it wasn't right and I knew it was no adrenaline crash.
My eyes dropped to the winegla.s.s.
"Settle, ma cherie," she murmured, pressing on my shoulder so I had no choice but to slide back down the bed.
"You drugged me," I accused.
She didn't deny it.
Instead, she said, "Sleep is good. Tomorrow, you'll be rested and you can better understand all that's happening and acclimatize to your surroundings."
"You drugged me," I repeated, my words now slightly slurred, whatever she gave me working fast.
"It's for the best."
Someone drugging you without your knowledge was not for the best. Maybe their best, but not yours.
"You-"
"Sleep," she whispered.
"But..."
I heard her sigh but I said no more because, against my will, I did as I was told and slept.
I regained consciousness in a sluggish way when my body was moved.
I was still mostly out of it but I could tell the person in bed with me wasn't just joining me there. He was changing positions and taking me with him.