The Lost Girl of Avignon

Everything slowly faded until almost all I was aware of was her breath on my skin and her fingers on my body and the way both pleased me to such extremes. She'd touch her fingertip to the tight gap between my lips, tease it up and down, then slip it gently away - never too rough, never too little, slowly possessing my soul a sliver at a time.

And then, once she was convinced that I was ready, she curled a finger into me and slowly, gently eased it in and out of me, taking care to never pinch, never rub too hard...

I was nearly mad with lust, my nipples jutting hard and proud of my body, panting, shivering, clasping the creaking rim of the bath, sweat beading my scalp and cheeks, the warm water softening the edges of every thought and fear and inadequacy...

"Sophie," I moaned, when I couldn't bear it any longer.

"Yes."

"Sophie, don't stop, please... don't stop, don't..."

"Why would I ever stop doing this to you?" she moaned. She nibbled my jaw, pulled me up against her, and eased her finger deep into me.

I arched back against her, gasping, grunting deep in my throat as the first spasm struck me like a velved-gloved fist.

Water sloshed over the rim and onto the floor.

She wrestled with me, trying to constrain my lithe, slick body as I shook and shuddered and moaned, feet skittering madly against plug and bathtub wall.

And then she held me, kissing the sweat-soaked crown of my head gently over and over until I was done with my fresh bout of tears.

She rinsed me, and herself, and we shared a large, soft towel.

Then I took her hand and led her to my chamber, and there she let me explore her and taught me the slow, sensual language of her body.

She was warm and kind and gentle as she clutched me in against her as she came and came again.

And we kissed, and caressed one another, and made promises that I doubted either of us would remember by dawn.

She fell asleep in my arms, exhausted.

But I lay awake, watching her breathing, caught in a web of bittersweet thoughts that I couldn't silence.

She wanted me.

Despite all that I was, she wanted me.

An adamant resolution formed in my breast - I would find whatever had killed Sarah, and I would obliterate it before it could threaten Sophie or anyone else.

I'd have to lie.

I'd have to pretend that anything I found would go to the authorities... when I had murderous, black revenge in my heart.

But then... I had had years of practice at lying.

So be it. I would gladly die if it would keep her safe.

I reached out and traced the thin, graceful line of her exquisite eyebrow.

"You're beautiful," I whispered.

"Go to sleep, silly," she murmured in answer.

She shifted, and kissed me, and settled in against me with a soft, pleased sigh.

So I closed my eyes, and nested in against her, and did just that.

☽●☾

"You're starving yourself."

I winced at the brittle judgement in her words. I put the tub back into the fridge and squared my shoulders.

"Isn't there... more you can eat? My God, Annemarie. What about red meat? What about..."

"It's the blood I have to have," I whispered. "I eat... cheese, and... other things, for the calories. But... but I've got to force myself, and sometimes I... can't."

She stared at me.

"I'll speak to Nana," she said. "There must be something..."

Then she paused. She put her face in her hands and sighed.

"I'm meddling, aren't I?"

I managed a smile.

"I'm sorry," she said, flustered. "It's just... I... I can't bear to see you struggling like this. I... I have to help, it's like a compulsion..."

I stepped forward and hugged her hard.

"Never, ever lose sight of just how much it means to me that you would even want to try," I whispered.

She shivered, and took one of my hands in hers. "Oh my God, sweetheart, you're so cold, you're like ice!"

"Food," I answered. "Food will... warm me up a bit."

I turned away and, strangely shy, kept my back to her while I finished a glass of my "smoothie".

Then I sighed out a breath as I felt her hands on my shoulders, her fingers gently caressing the line of my neck.

"You don't have to hide who you are, Annemarie. I won't run from you."

"I don't want to... disgust you," I whispered.

"I've studied anatomy, sweetheart. This is nothing. It doesn't bug me."

"Promise?"

"I swear it."

She pulled me back against her and wrapped her warm, strong arms around me; I made a soft little noise of je ne sais quoi as I melted in against the firm lines of her body.

"So..."

I turned; studied her face in the glimmer of my artificial morning.

"So?"

"So what are we looking for?" she said.

"What do you mean..."

"I heard enough of... that woman's scolding, last night. And then... the stuff you told me when we got here. You're being hunted. So... you need to find out who or what it is, right?"

"Yes..."

"So what are we looking for?" she repeated, softly.

"I can't risk..."

"Please don't try to tell me what I can and cannot do. You're not going to win. I'm in this, whether you like it or not. Now... are you going to accept my help or do I need to get moody and difficult with you?"

I took a breath and ran my fingers through my hair, frustrated.

She was right. She was in it.

"Fine. Fine. So... they will be... strange," I began. "They will have... odd habits. Like my... neatness. They won't spend time outdoors; they'll have an office job or do something that keeps them mostly out of the sun. It... it burns our skin, raises welts, it gets very sore very quickly."

"And?"

"They'll have a detail-focussed job or calling. Like me."

"And..."

"They'll be... pleasant. Physically attractive. They... we... work hard to blend in. So... they'll look good, but not... stand out."

"Mhmm. You stand out."

"That's just because you're blinded by lust," I whispered.

"Perhaps."

She stroked her hand down over my belly; I shuddered, felt my resolve weaken, felt the hot flush of desire rush through me.

"Stop that. I'm trying to... be serious."

"Oh. Serious is it? Fine then. Ulcaster is a moderately-sized town. It's going to be a lot of work to track down a dashing, detail-obsessed murderer."

She froze.

"Sorry," she whispered, appalled. "Oh Annemarie, I... I didn't mean..."

"No. It's okay. It's precisely what we will be looking for. I will avenge her, Sophie."

"Alright," she breathed, and brushed her lips against my forehead by way of apology. "So... to the Library?"

"Perhaps. It's probably as good a place as any to start until we know more."

"Okay. I'm rank, so... I'm going to nip into the salon and get a change of clothes and then scavenge up something to eat. I'll meet you there?"

"Okay."

I walked her to the door and held it open for her.

"See you soon, pretty girl," she said. She reached out and gently touched my cheek.

I sighed. "Be careful."

"It's daylight," she said, with a smile. "Nobody's going to bite me in daylight. Well... make that almost nobody," she said, winking.

"Oh ha ha, very funny."

She blew me a kiss and turned away; I watched the slow flick-flick-flick of her legs as she stalked the thirty yards to her salon. She turned, blew me another kiss, and disappeared through the door.

I returned to my flat, washed my face, and got my things together. I pulled on my thin, slim-cut jacket to shield my arms against the day's thin sunlight. A crimson and white striped silk scarf for my hair and neck, my backpack... and I was off.

I followed the looping river walk, lost in a languid, pleasant haze of memory of our late night, and had covered maybe half the distance to the University when I rounded a corner and stumbled to an abrupt, horrified stop.

Azure and white tape closed most of the walkway and a good stretch of the riverbank, leaving only a narrow passage.

Men in white forensic suits were combing the grass, and several uniformed police stood, keeping out curious passers-by.

I walked slowly closer.

And then I saw that a white tent of some sort had been erected beside the water's edge.

"Oh putain," I whispered, as I realised that there'd been another death.

No. Another murder.

I felt eyes on me.

I turned, dreading who I knew I'd see.

Angela Cole regarded me, coolly, from a few yards away.

She took a drag of a cigarette, sighed out the smoke, and slowly walked over to me.

I clutched my bag and tried to stand my ground, but it was difficult to meet her gaze.

"Do you see what happens when you are obvious?" she said, softly. "He went elsewhere."

"Is... did I... do this?" I whispered.

She shrugged. "Who knows? It doesn't matter now. The deed is done."

She considered me for a moment.

"Three murders at least so far, two of them girls, both girls young and blonde and pretty... and all three deaths associated with Ulcaster. Three doesn't make a pattern, but it is a remarkable coincidence. And I do so hate coincidences. So, Miss Devereux," she said. "Since I'm certain you won't listen and stay uninvolved, why don't you make yourself useful instead. Use that pretty head of yours and that detail-obsessed brain and that remarkable ability to find the trail and find him for me."

"Him?"

"Almost certainly," she said. "I'd rate it as dead certain, but there's always the chance I'm wrong. Though," she said with an unpleasant smile, "It hasn't yet been the case."

"Was she a... student?"

"It doesn't matter. She's dead. Whatever killed her will kill again. It probably has and we just haven't found the unfortunate victims yet. You and I both know what it was. The... thing... is at Ulcaster. I know it. I can feel him here, like a cloud over the sun. Next time, Mademoiselle, it may be someone even... closer... to you."

"No," I whispered. "I won't let it happen again."

She watched me for a moment, then took another drag of her cigarette.

I watched a length of ash fall to the ground and crumple.

"I am a killer, Miss Devereux. I make no excuses. I lack the... finesse of your ability. I don't have your Knack. But I do have my own, and I am good at it. Together, you and I might erase this child of darkness before his shadow grows any longer. Find him for me. Find him, or her, or it so that I can end this."

"I'll do it. I'll do whatever you need," I said, meeting her cold blue gaze. "I do not want any other deaths. Nobody should die because of... things like me."

"Nobody has," she said, gentler now. "The creature that did this is nothing like you, and you know that. You win that battle every day. This spawn of the outer darkness doesn't even care that there's a battle to fight."

She eyed me once more, speculatively this time.

"You have my number. Find him, Miss Devereux. Find him quickly."

"I will," I said, resolute. "I swear it."

She nodded, and turned away; I took a shuddering breath before I scurried onwards, not even looking at the pathetic little memento mori by the water's edge.

It felt like scant seconds later I was climbing the worn steps to the Library.

I closed the doors behind me and leaned against them, panting.

Angela Cole was convinced that the murderer was at the University.

I quickly crossed the floor to my desk and logged into the University's central directory.

And it was there that I was frantically digging when Sophie arrived, lovely eyes sombre.

"You heard?" she whispered as she came to sit beside me.

"I... saw," I said. "I... walked past it."

"Oh."

She leaned forward and wrapped her arms around me.

"I'm sorry," she whispered.

"The police woman was there," I added, forging onwards. "The... strange one. "

She pulled a vacant stool over and sat in it.

"What did she want?"

"She said she thinks the murderer is here. At the University."

"What! Here, on the campus?"

"Shh!" I hissed, glancing around. "Keep your voice down."

She leaned in to within kissing distance; I blinked, but she was all business.

"What did she say?"

"Just that she has a strong... suspicion that the murderer is here. And she claimed she's never been wrong. She told me that we... that you and I... should use our brains and find him for her."

"Oh. That sounds... like something we could do, I suppose. The poor girl."

"Who was it?" I said, softly.

"I didn't know her. She was a third-year in History..."

"... Wait. History? You're sure?"

"Yes. Why?"

"A... strange feeling. Like... it's like I've seen or heard or read this before. Like déjà vu... but not. I can't explain. I... I read something... somewhere. Mon dieu, where was it..."

I started to scroll through browser pages, hunting quite what I did not know.

"There have probably been other murders," I said. "Just... none that were linked to this, or at least, not yet. Perhaps he's growing... bolder."

"We could look through the Inquirer... for how long, though?"

"At least a couple of months. It will be a lot of work..."

I squinted.

"I... could go and get started, I suppose..."

And then, there it was.

"Voilà. Here," I said. "Look at this email thread."

"Who... oh. A... visiting professor?"

"Yes. From... Wrocław, supposedly. Professor Vasjek... but that's not a Polish name."

"You're right," she said. "It sounds more Slavic or Bulgar. I wonder where he's from originally."

I dug further into the staff directory, and found his profile. I opened it... and took a soft, startled breath.

The young man who stared out intently from the shadows of a doorway would have many woman stop and stare. Long, black hair styled into a widow's peak; a tailored shirt and jacket, smart shoes...

And I realised with a start that I'd seen him in the Library.

Twice, at least.

"That's him?" Sophie exclaimed.

"Wow. He looks so young. His profile said he's in his forties, he looks like he's barely got facial hair. He's... apparently, he's a visiting expert on... get this, Renaissance alchemy and numerology. Putain de merde. He was here in the Library," I said. "I remember... what is it?"

"I... I think I've seen him too," she said softly, still staring at the photo. "In fact, I'm almost certain. I think it was him I saw..."

"When?" I said, heart in my throat.

"About a week ago. I was crossing the courtyard near the Chemistry building... you know, where the maples are..."

"Yes..."

"And... and I saw someone standing in the arcade between Chemistry and Humanities. Smoking, watching people from deep in the shadow. I... I think it was this guy, Annemarie."

" Are you sure?"

"Sure? No. I don't have a good memory for faces. But... but I think so."

"Shit," I whispered. I leaned back and stared up at her. "He's been watching me. He's been watching us."

"What do we do?" she said, shooting me a worried glance. "Should we phone... that woman?"

"Not yet. If this is the one, I don't want to spook him. I'll... I'll go and... look."

"You! Why you?"

"Because it's safer if it's me," I said, softly. I reached up hesitantly to touch her cheek. "You know that."

She bit her lip.

"Fine. But I'm coming with."

"What will you do?" I said, amused and touched. "If I'm not a threat, chérie, then... and please don't take this wrong... you certainly aren't."

"I don't care. You're not going alone. I won't let you do this alone, Annemarie."

"Fine!" I sighed, amused and exasperated. "My goodness, you are a wilful woman."

"I thought you'd worked that out already," she said, with a quiet laugh. "So... when do you want to go?"

"The sooner the better. If it is him then he'll be... slower, when he's sated. Like a tick..."

"Oh no, no, gross," she moaned. "Oh, God, what an image!"

I shrugged. "It's the truth. Right now is probably the safest time. So... shall we go and see?"

"It would be foolish of us, wouldn't it," she said.

"Very."

She took a deep breath, then sighed it out. "So... what are we waiting for, then?"

And she grinned.

I locked my bag in the cabinet under my desk, taking only my phone and a scarf with me. I covered my head and tucked my hands into my pockets to protect them. We made our way swiftly down the steps and out across the Western quadrangle and from there down to the lower terrace.

We paused under the maples.

"That's where I saw him," she said. I was glad she was wise enough not to point.

"Which one's Humanities, again?"

"The brick building. The Eyesore."

We eyed the open door and its concrete portico.

"I'm going to go in and take a quick look; to see if I sniff anything."

"Sniff..." she said, wrinkling her nose. "Oh. Right. I'll... wait here, then?"

"Too obvious. Go to the noticeboard on the far side and find something interesting on it."

She made a face. "Be careful."

"It is maybe not even him," I said.

"But if it is..."

"I'll come right back to you."

She gave me a dubious look, then walked off confidently towards the noticeboard. I turned, shot her one glance, and made my way into the Humanities department.

I held my breath as I crossed the threshold; nothing happened of course, and I sighed, feeling like a foolish girl for a moment.

Glass-fronted noticeboards lined the hallway; a lecture theatre stood empty to the left, while a few students talked in a reading room to the right. I made a circuit of the ground floor and was about to return and climb the stairs when something, some sixth sense, made me draw back into a darkened doorway.

Footsteps clicked along the floor above and began a metronomic descent down the stairs, one step at a time, regular as clockwork.

I drew back further, then superstitiously held my breath as a slim, well-dressed silhouette showed against the daylight outside. I heard a muffled curse, then a soft snort as the outside light dimmed thanks to one of the day's meandering clouds.

The man pulled a hat from a hook and donned it. He pulled on thin gloves, and then ducked out into the lesser shade of the portico. From there he waked swiftly out into the lower terrace, making directly for the arcade across the small quadrangle.

I darted to the doorway and skulked against the door, watching him.

I watched his posture.

I watched the way he looked neither left nor right.

I watched the way he altered his gait ad-hoc so that he never, ever trod on the gap between flagstones.

He slipped under the shade of the arcade, and only then stopped to turn and look around.

It was Professor Vasjek.

And, looking at him, I instinctively knew that there was some wrongness about him.

He turned again, and disappeared under the long colonnade that joined all the Humanities departments to the great south gate.

I bound my scarf tightly around me and scurried to Sophie.

"It's him," I panted. I caught her arm, wincing as sunlight lanced over the exposed skin of my hand. I dragged her deep into the shade. "There's something wrong about him. It's weird. I can... almost sense he's there. I think he's the one."

"Are you sure?"

"Sure? No. But I'm pretty convinced. I need to call the police woman - Detective Inspector Cole. Sophie - you have to warn your Grandmother."

"Nana? Why?"

"Trust me. Can you phone her? Or phone someone who can talk to her?"

"No. Nobody will be there right now. I'll... I'll have to go myself. But why..."

"Because she is one of the ones who guards the world against them," I whispered. "Against... things like me."

"She... guards? What on earth! My Nana?"

"Oui, oui, oui, like DS Cole! Listen, I don't know what the fuck is going on, but you have to let Nana Eleri know. Please!"

"Okay! Okay! I'll go," she said. "But... but don't you go getting any ideas about running off on your own."