Some Enchanted Dream: A Time Travel Adventure (Seasons of Enchantment Book 2) (30 page)

"And that is why you are so ill," Tara pointed out. She didn't know what this obsession was with the Green Fairy, but she'd rather not discuss it with him. Riley was off trying to get answers from the woman known as Artemisia. Until he returned, she thought it best not to discuss such things with a mortal who did not know their secret.

Rising from her chair beside his bed, she reached for the bottle Riley had sitting on the table. There was an inch or so left of the noxious fluid. "Can you tell me where you acquired this brand of Absinthe?"

"It was given to me. Left outside my apartment door, as a gift, one of many as a matter of fact."

"Do you know who left it?" She hoped they would learn the identity of the dark one handing out this poison. "Did he give you more than one bottle, is that what you mean?"

"I don't know who it is. I just found a bottle outside my door a few weeks back. I drank it, and when I finished the last of that bottle, another one appeared at my door. And another when I finished that one. I've had six bottles delivered, always in the night, when I'm asleep or out."

Tara nodded, "thank you."

"Ah, if you please, I'd like a swig." He reached out his hand expectantly.

"No, you will not." Tara set the bottle down on the table. "You will drink this milk my brother prescribed. It has powerful healing properties mixed into it." 

Oh, the face he made at her. Like a child being denied a piece of candy.  Tara moved back to the bed, and poured him a portion of the milk. "Drink up. If you wish to recover fully, you must take this medicine. My brother worked hard to keep you among the living."

"Where is this paragon you speak of. A doctor, hey? I've no money to pay his bill."

"My father has taken care of it for you." She watched him as he sipped the cup of milk with reluctance. "Would you like to see him? He's just across the hall."

"I'd like to thank Big Dan. He's a handy gent to have around."

She moved to the door, and then stopped. Turning around, she hurried to the table and snatched up the bottle, lest he be tempted by it and take another drink of the toxic slurry.

Tara took the bottle with her to her apartment. She didn't trust Mr. Bellows to leave it be. There was just something in his eyes that looked desperate as he gazed at the elixir.

"Dan, Mr. Bellows is awake." She knew he would be relieved if he could see his friend awake. "Go over if you wish, but don't drink the milk. Promise me you won't drink the milk in the bottle over there."

Dan's eyebrows shot up. "Why, is it gone bad?"

"No, it has medicine in it. Riley said to keep making him sip it throughout the afternoon. He should be back any time now. Where is Adrian?"

"Here love." He emerged from their room.  "What is it?"

She explained to both men how it was that Mr. Bellows came to possess this bottle, and not just this one, but others.

Dan swore aloud.

Adrian took the bottle from her hand and studied it carefully.

"What if they've sent another bottle to his apartment?"

Both men looked up at her with surprise.

"They wouldn't know he was gone, would they?" Adrian said. "We could go see if there is another bottle outside his door." He was looking at Tara as he spoke. "Care for a walk, my sweet?"

"I should go," Dan said pensively. "I talked to the landlord last time. He'll recognize me."

"No, you go across the hall and watch over your friend," Adrian directed. "You still have a green look about you, too, after your scuffle with footpads in the night. It's best if you don't exert yourself today. We'll deal with it."

Chapter Twenty-Four

Dan had one thought in his head as he contemplated the horrible future threatening humanity: 
Gisele.

Odd, how a crisis could distill a person's true priorities into a clear, precise directive.

What would happen to Gisele if they failed? 

What would happen to Gisele if he left her here and jaunted on to the next adventure?

It pained him to think of her struggling on alone here, in Montmartre, dancing for money and being ogled by rich gents wanting her to perform more intimate acts for their pleasure. It caused a physical ache in his chest and a nasty, painful lump in his throat. 

He'd not heard from Gisele since their encounter a few days ago, when he'd given her flowers in the aftermath of their lovemaking.
Yeah, lovemaking, not sex.

As he sat watching over Arthur, Dan tried to chat with his friend a little, just mindless talk as one does with a seriously ill person. It wasn't working for either of them. Arthur still looked more dead than alive. His eyelids were bobbing here and there. He needed to sleep.

Dan needed to see Gisele.

He waited a few moments until he was sure Art was sleeping, and then tiptoed lightly out of the room and crept down the stairs to Gisele's door. It was past noon, so she must be awake. He rapped on the door, and nothing happened.

With a firmer rap this time, so his knuckles stung, he called her name insistently.

The door opened, and the sight that met him nearly crushed his heart flat.

Gisele looked up at him through swollen, red-rimmed eyes. Her hair was a mess. She was still in her silk robe. "M'siuer, I-I am not--" a sudden burst of tears made further conversation impossible. 

Dan brought her to him in a gentle hug. He'd learned to be careful with people due to his size. "What is it, sweetheart? Tell me what happened and I'll make it right."

She just kept weeping into his shirt, weeping as if her life were utterly ruined. 

Well, it was. Having dark fairies plotting to destroy reason and progress was surely not in her best interest. She didn't know that, so something was clearly wrong.

He lifted her about the waist and carried her to the sofa. Sitting down, Dan held her on his lap and guided her head to nestle against his shoulder. "Tell me, dear one, and we'll set about fixing it." 

He'd told her in that silly romantic note that he'd be her knight, which implied he'd rescue her. Why didn't she seek his assistance?  Perhaps she didn't want to be rescued, not by him.

She remained silent, sniffling in little bits, and hiccupping off and on from the wild fit of weeping. And as her tears sizzled and burned inside him, leaving deep ruts in his callous heart, Dan came to a stark realization; he was in love with Gisele.

Why was she so distressed? Had she been raped by an overzealous patron of the dance club? Or by a thug on the way home? Had she been bullied by those vermin who roamed the streets preying on the weak?  Had she been robbed of her earnings in the grey light of dawn as she came home from her job? Those things happened often here.

Dan regretted teasing Adrian about his vigilante schtick. Adrian had been doing his best to protect women just like Gisele.

She lifted her head, but didn't look at him. Instead, she focused on his tie, took to twining her fingers around it like a child. "A wealthy man, a very ugly old man, wanted me to become his mistress. I refused his offer. He was revolting." A slight shudder passed over her and Dan felt her delicate shoulder move beneath his hand. She sniffed again, and dabbed her eyes with her fingers. "He came to the club last night and made a scene, calling me all manner of vile names. He interrupted the show and demanded to see the owner. The old man went with Mr. Le Beau into a private room. He convinced Mr. Le Beau to let me go.

"Just like that?" Dan's blood seethed and boiled in his veins.

"
Oui,
I am no longer a dancer at
Le Coq Bleu.
I have precious little funds to tide me over until I can find another position. I shall lose my apartment if I miss the rent next month. . . oh how foolish I've been!  I spent my extra money on dresses, perfumes, trifles. . . I am lost."

So, some ugly pervert she refused to favor retaliated by using his power to get her fired from her job, leaving the poor woman no option other than to become his mistress.

"Want me to go beat the crap out of him?"

Those lovely blue eyes settled upon Dan with incomprehension. "I do not understand. What is crap?"

"It's shit," he managed half a smile. "You know, horse droppings, that kind of thing. It's slang in America. It means to physically beat someone."

"Oh? But it will not solve my penniless condition."

"Yeah, but it would make both of us feel a hell of a lot better."

A subdued giggle emerged. And then a sturdier one followed. "He is so old and you are so very big and strong. It would not be proper to attack and elderly man, and you would end up in jail. That would not help either of us,
mon cher
."

"Don't worry about the money. I'll take care of you."

That made her eyes widen. "Are you asking me to be your mistress?"

Now that was just obscene. Maybe he was too broad minded as a man from the future. Mistresses were pathetic little creatures who gained the protection and support of a man in exchange for sexual favors. That was not his idea of a solution. "No. Never that."

Gisele appeared wounded by his reply. "Am I not what you favor in a woman?"

"Oh, Christ!" Dan's jaw grew tight as he gazed up at the ceiling with exasperation. "No, you misunderstand my meaning. I would not degrade you so by expecting you to become my . . ."  He waved his hand about in a helpless motion as he tried to find a word that would not insult her. "My plaything!"

"But then, how do you benefit from our arrangement if I let you take care of me?"

A shrewd businesswoman, she was not. He was practically offering her the moon, well the pound sized portion of it he possessed, and she seemed to think he should benefit from his generosity. "I'll let you in on a little secret: my son-in-law is a wealthy Irish lord, a viscount. He has money, lots of it. And you're Tara's friend as well as mine, you can just hang out with us. It'll be cool. Trust me." Dan paused, struggling over the next words as his tongue thickened in his mouth and moisture misted his brow. "Or, we could get married?"

She looked as if he'd just told her he was an alien from the planet Vulcan. Gisele wiped her eyes and studied him as if she suspected he were making it all up. "Why would a viscount live
here
, if he truly had money and power?"

Dan shrugged, not willing to give too much away. "It is a complicated. Tara wanted to live among the artists and intellectuals of Montmartre, so we're here for a few weeks as tourists, sort of incognito. We'll move on soon. His lordship doesn't like the neighborhood. You're welcome to come with us, as Tara's friend or as my wife."

*  *  *  * 

The walk to Mr. Bellow's apartment was refreshing. Tara was glad to be out of the sickroom. It made her uncomfortable as Bellows kept drooling over her as if she were a dessert.

Adrian walked beside her, his arm caught in hers at the elbow. The sounds of construction grew louder as they neared the new basilica. As did the white dust on the streets.

Once they reached Bellow's apartment building, Adrian knocked on the door of the lower level. An unpleasant looking man answered.  When he looked at Tara his expression changed from irritation to admiration.

"How can I help you,
Mademoiselle
?"

"The proper term is
Madame
," Adrian retorted, placing his arm about her. "Madame Dillon, and I am M'sieur Dillon."

"Don't break the enchantment," Tara hissed in a low tone. "M'sieur, we are friends of Mr. Bellows. He is very ill and may not be back for a week or two. We've come to gather some fresh clothing for him in the mean time."

At the mention of Bellows, the landlord's expression darkened.  He looked from Tara to Adrian with contempt. A long line of French was spewed at Adrian, which he translated for Tara, "Bellows owes back rent. He's not paid this man for two months running into three."

Tara did her best to smile and charm the man again. "You will be blessed beyond compare if you allow me inside. Prosperity and good fortune will follow you all your days." To Adrian, she said, "give him the rent due, please, to show him we are on his side."

"As you wish," Adrian answered in a sarcastic tone. He dug into his pocket, pulled out  two English crowns and handed them to the Frenchman.

At the gleam of silver, the man's cheerfulness returned. He bowed to Tara as if she were royalty and bade her to go up the stairs ahead of him. She did so with Adrian and the landlord following behind. It was not hard to determine which apartment was Bellow's, as the tell-tale bottle of
Lune Nuit
Absinthe was outside his door, just like milk delivered by the milk man. Adrian bent to pick it up as the landlord unlocked the door for them.

As soon as Tara stepped inside a creepy feeling of unease surrounded her. The apartment was on the north side and didn't benefit from full sun as their place did. Thus, it was cloaked in shadows, though it was little more than five in the afternoon. The curtains of the one window were pulled, adding to the gloom. The landlord spoke to Adrian in French again, and Adrian waved about the room as he spoke, explaining their intentions. With a nod and a smile, the landlord left them.

Adrian opened the drapes to allow in more light. Tara moved about warily as her instincts kicked up a sense of unease. The scent of tobacco lingered heavily in the air, stale tobacco, mingled with rotting food. Remnants of Mr. Bellow's last dinner were decomposing as flies buzzed and crawled over the chicken bones with a few bits of meat clinging to them. "Shall we gather his things?"

"Tara, we do not have his permission to handle his belongings."

"Bellows can't come back here. They know where he lives. They're delivering the poison to his doorstep. Find a satchel, we'll at least recover his clothing and his valuables for him."

Adrian relieved the wardrobe of its meager contents, quickly stuffing clothing into a nearby carpetbag, along with the unopened bottle of absinthe. Tara found his pocket watch, a few coins, a photo card of an older woman--likely his mother--and some letters. She brought them to Adrian to put in the bag.