Sonata (Butcher and Violinist 2)

I pulled Eden closer to me. “I won’t be going.”

“No?”

“There are things more important than the Devil.”

“Oh.”

“Eden is pregnant.”

“Holy fuck. I think that’s good. Right?”

I grinned. “I think it’s good too.”

“So no lion or devil?”

“No.”

“Good. I’m going back to sleep.”

“Goodnight, Louis.”

“Tell Eden congratulations.”

“I will.”

I didn’t know if Kazimir would be back in Paris, or if he had men going to Forum des Halles, to deliver the Devil. It didn’t matter anymore. My child grew in Eden’s womb. I had her, and that was most important.

We’re going back to Nice. In fact, if we had just stayed there. . .none of this would’ve happened.

I placed the phone on the nightstand.

I don’t care about the Devil right now. Go fuck yourself, Kazimir.

I looked down at my queen—the one who’d healed me without knowing. The one who’d gave me purpose in life. She’d changed me.

I touched her stomach, making sure I didn’t wake her.

I can’t wait to meet you, little one.

How beautiful would the child be? How amazing? How lucky had I become, after so much war and tragedy.

I fell asleep with Eden against me. That was the only way I could sleep from now on. The moon rose. My cousins slept on the outskirts of Paris too, keeping safe and out of harm.

We all rested, as peace settled down on the city.

The next day, that peace was disrupted.

I hadn’t gone down to Forum des Halles, but we had men watching. The meeting time was in the evening. When it came, nothing happened.

Louis was going to tell the men at the property to go inside the mall and check the store, but then the entire place exploded. All of Forum des Halles.

For the rest of the night, the news reported the massive explosion of one of Paris’s, beloved sites. Forum des Halles, was now a massive crater in the belly of the city. Thankfully, a bomb threat had cleared most of the workers that were arriving.

Authorities spent the rest of the day, digging through the mountainous rocks.

Kazimir put a hole in Paris.

And for now, I wouldn’t move against him, unless completely necessary. The bombing had rattled us all, but we stayed quiet.

That night, I didn’t lose any sleep. I’d even smiled, before passing out. Eden lay by my side. My cousins were safe.

For now, that was all that was important.

Chapter 29

Death Masks and Castles

Eden

The next day we all went to meet Giorgio in Nice—Louis, Rafael, Shalimar’s body, and me.

After the bombing to Forum des Halles, we went back to his hometown and decided to bury Shalimar there. No other attack or explosion came from the Lion. He’d delivered his message, by putting a hole in Paris. Perhaps, he was waiting for the Corsican’s response. Or maybe, he thought Jean-Pierre had fallen for his plan and was dead.

Either way, I didn’t know the answer and wanted to help.

Jean-Pierre would have none of it.

Days later, Jean-Pierre and I walked hand-in-hand, into a small costume boutique in Nice. We left the limo. His hand anchored me into reality. His touch was magic. He’d mastered the art of hand-holding. But what else would I expect, with such skilled fingers in seduction.

This is an interesting shop.

Rafael had demanded that we follow the Laurent’s way of traditions. Apparently, their family wore black masks to the funeral. Our clothes would be the same color.

“My grandfather started it, when his wife passed. My grandmother.” Jean-Pierre took us toward the wall of black masks at the back. The store owner told us that she’d made all of them. Each had a unique design of the venetian style.

“Why did your grandfather want everyone to wear masks.”

“Because he would be wearing one. That day, he didn’t want to see anybody’s face—just hers. And he didn’t want anyone seeing his.”

“Why not?”

“He didn’t like anyone to see him cry.”

“I can understand that.”

He slipped his thumb along my palm. “Which mask do you want to wear?”

I pointed to the one in the center. Solid black. No flair or feathers. This wasn’t a party. It was a sad event.

I’m so sorry, Shalimar.

“That’s a good pick. Simple, but stylish.” Jean-Pierre nodded. “I’ll wear the same one.”

“Sounds good.”

Our guard grabbed two and went to the owner.

“Tomorrow, you should wear comfortable shoes,” Jean-Pierre continued. “We’re using our grandfather’s old church. When the funeral happens in the afternoon, Rafael will have a small ceremony inside. Once that part of the service ends, we’ll leave the church. That’s when we’ll put on the masks.”

I nodded, fascinated by the way they chose to deal with death.

“We’ll walk behind the hearse. Rafael ordered a horse drawn carriage to carry Shalimar’s body. I’m sure it’ll be the best Nice can provide.”

Sadness hit me.

He squeezed my hand. “The graveyard isn’t too far from the church, so the walk won’t be long.”

“Is that a Laurent tradition too? Following the hearse on foot?”