Chapitre 4: The Keeper of time - IV
Hey readers. Thank you to my two reviewers, as usual, you made my day ! Here is the last installement of part 1. Next chapter will feature a time gap of 8 years, but you'll see that in the end, it should tie all the loose ends I've left here. I hope that you loved my version of Carlisle, Alice and Charlie.
The wind scattered her fiery strands, inflating the white sails that surrounded her as she progressed on a narrow yardam. In the palm of her hand rested a sword, a beautiful blade slightly curved with foreign engravings. The weapon, an extension of her arm, was nearly humming in answer to her demands. It cut, diced, and swished around her in a deadly dance. Below her, the mariners went about their daily chores, no longer gaping at the witch with the red hair. She had won the battle, and saved so many of them. Especially young Calamy, one feat for which the captain would have kissed her. They accepted her now, all of them. The deck was clean, the air heavy with iodine and humidity, the uniforms spotless, and Jack Aubrey's tricorn in view. A uniform fit for the beginning of the 19th century.
And so, Frances danced through the sails, her fiery hair bouncing around her, her sword performing a kata. And she was the Keeper of Time, the witch with her magic sword, bound to help whenever needed, preserver of life. She was strong, stronger than ever. Her swordsmanship enhanced by the sword, a present from a mighty lord whose magic was embedded in the blade. Close to invincible, protected by the Gods who had chosen this path for her. All of it thanks to the necklace that rested between her breast, its weight a mighty reminder of the God's choice. In that very instant, Frances knew. There was no way around it ; she was exactly where she needed to be, what she needed to be.
It was the shuffling of Scully in the bathroom that woke her up. Slowly regaining consciousness, Frances had trouble getting rid of the pure sensation of bliss that had permeated through this dream. Closing her eyes, she swore she could still smell the Ocean, and the feeling of belonging came back. This elation, would she ever reach it?
— "Feeling better?"
Frnaces opened her eyes, meeting Scully's blue, the legist searching for the remnants of a concussion. The young lady shrugged.
— "I'm good actually, not even a cold."
— "For now"
Frances smirked.
— "Right. Thank for your optimism"
At this, Scully repressed a laugh.
— "Optimism is the room next door."
The young woman chuckled at the sarcasm, yet she could not grudge Scully for being right. The legist was the only one grounding Mulder, enough to prevent him from shooting in all directions. Especially since Frances seemed keen on following in his footsteps. Being pessimistic was necessary; Scully was their survival instinct. As Frances climbed into the hot shower, she let her thoughts run free. Somehow, with the jet lag, she should have been up at 4 in the morning. But the dream had been so intense, so important that her body didn't deign to wake up. Weird. There was no time to dwell on it, as they were supposed to meet with the Sheriff this morning. So far, she didn't know how she would be able to share the little knowledge she had about the killings in Forks without implicating the Cullen family. Silence would be the safest option of all, she mused. There, she was the villain in the investigation now, hiding the truth…
This is how, after a quick and unhealthy breakfast, Frances reclaimed her spot in the backseat as Mulder and Scully's banter filled the little time to the Sheriff's office. Said sheriff, Charlie he insisted she called him, look relieved to see her safe and sound, even if a little troubled. The man blamed her mood on the misadventure of precedent day, and left it at that. The two agents, the intern and the Sheriff closed his office door, and a heated discussion started regarding the latest murder. The troublesome findings of Scully, having done the autopsy, caused the man to frown deeply. He had nothing to answer the draining and puncture wounds on the body.
- "Hey. I have never seen such a thing. This is why I called you guys, I though the FBI could get me answers. Do you have some?"
Mulder shook his head.
- "Unfortunately, not yet. We have more questions though."
The Sheriff sighed, and sunk in his chair, disheartened to be on the grill again. Obviously, those special agents were not going anywhere.
- "Questions… All right, what do you want to know?"
- "We visited the Quileutes reserve yesterday. They might have mentioned old legends, cold ones that drain people. Does it ring a bell?"
The sheriff frowned. Unbeknownst to the agents, the leader of the Quileute tribe, Billy, was one of his closest friends. He did not like one bit the direction their questioning was heading to. Mulder's eyes were reading his body language, the discomfort so clear on his face that even Frances could read it. Truth be told, she had caught a weird vibe in the Quileutes' camping car. And the smell of dogs, albeit she could see none around them. But they had not mentioned anything about the cold ones. Had Mulder found it in the book he insisted on purchasing yesterday evening?
Carlisle Cullen had mentioned that the members of the Quileutes had helped get rid of the murderers. She wondered how, especially since vampires seemed to possess inhuman strength and speed. Maybe she could ask the Cullen family. No, this wouldn't do. The less she knew, the less she would be susceptible to give away.
At the moment though, this Quileute interrogation was getting nowhere, since the Sheriff seemed intend on being a brick wall. Scully observed, her blue eyes fixed on the man, trying to see through the lies. The Sheriff seemed indignant, rightly so, that his Quileutes friends might be implicated in the murder. She shared a look with her partner, causing Mulder to change strategy. The complete 180 was unexpected.
- "So, this Dr. Cullen, is he trustworthy?"
Frances started, refraining from straightening in her chair at the mention of the doctor. Mulder was suspicious, and rightly so. Fortunately, both agents' gazes were focused on the Sheriff; if not, they'd have spotted the uncomfortable look on their trainee's face. She needed to get out of here if she didn't want to sell secrets no one was ready to hear about. Right, maybe Mulder would believe her, and understand, but what would happen next? She couldn't expose the Cullen family. Fortunately, Charlie stood from his chair, the legs scrapping against the tiled floor.
— "The Cullen family has done nothing but good in this town! Don't listen to what people say, their kids do not cause trouble, and the doctor has great expertise. He could be working in any hospital of prestige, and yet he stays here, in the service of a small town. They are good people. Don't go about disturbing them,"
Gaping, Frances smiled. Well, the Cullen family might be vampires, but they had a dutiful worshipper in the person of the Sheriff. That was just neat. Mulder's shoulders slumped in defeat. Every angle he tried sent him back to the wall. Was the Sheriff really sincere about him seeking the truth? Turning to Frances, Mulder started a question about last night's events when a knock interrupted them.
— "Yeah?" called the Sheriff.
Frances exhaled slowly as the door slightly opened, that was close! A young policeman passed his head through the opening.
— "I'm sorry to interrupt, Sheriff, but the young Alice is here. She says the FBI intern forgot something at their house, and she wants to return the item herself"
Startled, Frances' brain took a little while to process the information. The timing was impeccable; had Alice known she was about to be interrogated about her family? And the sneaky pixie had navigated the waters with brio: the policeman seemed persuaded that the item was something to do with some women's secret item since Alice wanted to give it back personally. What better way to prevent embarrassing questions that to hint at something like this? Like the day when Frances had piled up her lingerie at the top of her suitcase to prevent the custom guys to roam her luggage too much. Standing from her chair, Frances waved her fellow agents' concerns away.
— "All right. I'll go, and be back soon. Don't interrupt this conversation because of my missing."
Mulder nodded, and Frances slipped through the door as quietly as a mouse. Phew! The young policeman led her to Alice, his eyes fully enthralled by the young pixie seated in a chair. The vampire charm she oozed would be responsible for a few heart attacks, especially since she gave Frances a thousand-watt smile when she spotted her. Had she turned her head aside, Frances would have seen the look of disbelief on the policeman, and his attempts at picking his jaw off the floor. As it was, the FBI trainee could only lift an eyebrow in interrogation.
— "Come," said Alice while looping their arms together, "there is something you left at my house."
Frances started at the coldness of her skin. Alice's arm was hard, like a marble statue, and she dragged her outside in the drizzle.
— "Lovely country," grumbled Frances as she pulled her hood up.
Alice, facing her, seemed unfazed by the rain.
— "I am sorry for the imposition, but I couldn't risk them to interrogate you in Charlie's presence."
Frances nodded, earning a silent approval from the petite vampire. She had expected surprise, an exclamation perhaps for her timely interruption, but not the quiet agreement that the FBI trainee sported. Smart woman; she had accepted Alice's gift of foresight already.
— "I am here to tell you about Carlisle, if you will listen…"
The sentence was left hanging, an opening for Frances to accept or deny her request.
— " … and give me the necklace?"
This time, Alice's eyes widened slightly, taken aback by the acceptance in the woman's tone. Well, it would be easier than expected. But more than that, something was nagging at the back of her mind, something very familiar.
— "Do you have a gift with time, Frances?"
— "I very well might"
Alice's perfect eyebrow met her hairline, waiting for more.
— "Sometimes yes, I feel like I do. I have dreams, images, impressions, some certainties as well. Sometimes, they only make sense after events have happened."
The vampire's expression lightened.
— "Oh… I wonder if it was like this, for me, before I…"
Before I died. She couldn't say it aloud, of course, because they still were under the porch of the police station. Yet, this was the best they would get. There was no way Frances could visit the Cullen's without raising suspicions.
— "Listen. We do not have much time. I will not beg you, Frances, to take what is yours. But I know my vision to be right. You are the Keeper of time."
— "I know"
— "You know?"
— "I had a dream, of the future. I was the Keeper of Time. I don't know if I succeeded in my endeavours, but I seemed satisfied with it. And I was a redhead! Wow."
Alice smiled.
— "Neat"
— "Yeah… Anyway. I am not ready now, to take this mantle, but someday I will be."
A sweet expression lightened Alice's features, her beauty radiating like a beacon in the dark. Her tiny hand extracted the velvet pouch from her pocket, and she gave it to Frances. Without a word, the trainee picked it up and secured it into her pocket. There were no more words needed, the only noise the splashing of cars on the road, and the tickling of water falling from the roof. Eventually, Frances remember Alice's first words.
— "You wanted to tell me something about Carlisle."
— "Yeah. He doesn't talk about it much, but Carlisle had a rough beginning. It was easier for us when … you know, because he was here to guide us. But he was alone, for such a long time, and he hid, and hated himself for being this creature."
— "Why?"
— "It was the 17th-century Frances, and his father, a pastor, had been hunting witches and alike for a long time. Can you imagine the pain of Carlisle when he realised what he had become?"
Frances shook her head. No, she couldn't understand the distress and self-loathing the poor doctor must have been through. And there was more, much more than Alice was not saying, things that she couldn't grasp. Things about hunger for blood. Suddenly, Alice's head was cocked aside. Frances frowned; she had seen the same expression of intense concentration on Carlisle's face the day before; the vampire was listening to something she couldn't hear. Her golden eyes narrowed, and the seized Frances' hand strongly.
— "They are coming. But you need to know. He met a woman, she told him he was entitled to live, be a vegetarian, and do some good in this world. She convinced him, and helped him adjust. You too can do some good, Frances, with this power. Use is wisely. And no one must ever know you know; you risk being spotted by the coven, they would hunt you down, and your family as well. Be careful, be safe!"
There was too much information, and it seemed Alice had jumped from pillar to post without any common theme. Time was short, though, and before she could ask any of the questions that jostled in her mind, Scully's voice called to her.
— "Are you done, Frances?"
Beside her, the Sheriff appeared, a wide smile on his lips.
— "Hello Alice, I trust you are well."
His greeting was a clear challenge addressed to the FBI agents who were wise enough to stay subdued. Mulder, though, was fuming. Alice popped a hat from her pocket, and stuck it on her head to keep her golden eyes from standing out.
— "Yes. I wanted to return the necklace we found on our steps. It probably fell when we took Frances inside, and Carlisle fixed the dent on the clasp."
— "That is very nice of you."
— "Not at all. After all, we're the same age, I know how important trinkets are to us, ladies!"
At this, Alice winked at Frances.
— "Anyway, I must be going before I miss my next class. See you later, Charlie!"
— "Bye Alice"
The sheriff waited until the young woman was out of earshot – which, in truth, couldn't happen – before saying the next words.
— "See. The Cullens are a very respectable family."
— "Yes. They are."
Mulder turned his startled eyes to Frances, the conviction in her gaze a little unnerving. He was clearly outnumbered this time, and his legendary stubbornness would not get him anywhere. Fighting against Scully when Frances supported him was one thing, but having the two ladies set against his theories … he would get nowhere. The agent sighed, defeated.
— "All right then, let's get going. And thank you for your help, Sheriff Swan."
Wasn't it ridiculous, this surname, 'Swan', especially for a sheriff. Anyway, the irony in Mulder's voice was not lost on Frances. She felt bad to lie to him, especially since he was, once more, on the right trail. Someday, she would have to apologise for not supporting him, for making him believe his instincts were going haywire. Someday…
Washington airport was disappearing in the distance, its lines of grey roofs and creamy concrete tracks giving way to grassy hills and forests. The plane turned north immediatly, following the the coastline from afar until it doved above the endless sea. Frances reclined in her seat; the flight would be long before she made her connection in Amsterdam Schiphol. She much preferred it, connecting in the Netherlands rather than in Paris. The airport was much more efficient that the horrendous Charles de Gaulles and the horrible French border control whose people wouldn't smile even in death. For the moment though, her thoughts were occupied by the velvet pouch in her inner pocket.
Questions had been asked, of course, about the necklace. And for the first time in years, Frances had actually lied. Surprisingly, it came rather naturally, for she was convinced of the interest of keeping this inheritance a secret. There were no doubts in her mind, no fears as she claimed the necklace rightfully hers. This, in itself, was weird enough. She should have wondered about the many implications or lying to her friends, of the possible consequences and powers of this heirloom, of the possibility that it could backfire and kill her, or cause a major incident. But it didn't feel as bad as it should, and Frances dismissed it on her exhaustion. It was, in truth, the only explanation; she wasn't ready to accept that the necklace had claimed her as the Keeper of Time, or that she had claimed the artefact likewise.
Now that she was away from Mulder's prying eyes, and Scully's lifted eyebrows, her mind could roam freely. And it held a thousand questions, all of them unanswered. Fishing the little bag out of her vest, the young woman contemplated the iridescent gem anew. Its blue ranged from the clearest blue of a mountain sky to the depth of the abyss, the colour changing with the light, yet the most beautiful she had ever witnessed. And the chains interlaced in braids, the patterns finely chiselled, a work of art! Yet, it seemed solid enough. Was it silver? Or white gold? Frances couldn't decide, for it shone brightly, like the light of the full moon on a landscape; less stern than the first, and deeper than the second. To say that she knew nothing about jewels was an understatement.
Frances clasped the artefact around her neck, tucking it under her shirt. The heaviness surprised her, the jewel falling on her chest, hidden in the valley of her breasts. It would take some getting used to. As she scrunched the velvet pouch in her hand to tug it back inside her pocket, she was surprised by its rigidity. Peeking inside, Frances fished out a simple doctor's business card, slightly bent from her mistreatment. "Carlisle Cullen, Forks Hospital". His professional number was there, and then, written below in beautiful broad strokes and fine strokes, was his personal cell number. A funny paradox, to write a modern number with a 17th century writing. Lifting an eyebrow with a smile, Frances turned the card around. Two simple sentences were beautifully drawn with a fountain pen.
'Someday, you'll know. And once you do, give me a call.'
Carlisle.
'Well, cryptic much!', she thought. Wasn't it bad to know too much about one's future? Little did she know that this particular phone call would have to wait eight more years.
État de l’alimentation hebdomadaire
-- Classement
Power Stone 
-- Power
stone