Death and Transfiguration

Chapter 42

Don't panic, I thought to myself as I stepped onto the platform, watching the trains go by. The station seemed unusually empty today - perhaps there weren't too many people who went on holiday to southern France on a Tuesday - but nevertheless, I stood there, watching the steam engines, glancing at the clock, waiting for one train in particular to arrive.

Another week had passed since the sentencing, and today, a carriage would leave La Petite Roquette, loaded with criminals. The prisoners would then board a train bound for Marseille, where they would depart aboard a steamship, leaving to serve out their sentences in France's penal colonies in French Guyana and New Caledonia.

Among them were Jean-Luc and Romain, and all I wanted, after everything that had happened, was to see them one last time.

When they finally arrived, Jean-Luc climbed onto the train, and once he was on board, he leaned out the window and waved to me without much energy or enthusiasm. "Miss Brackenborough?" he said, his eyes looking far more tired, more downcast than usual. "What are you doing here?"

"I just wanted to say goodbye," I said to him.

Jean-Luc seemed taken aback. "But why?" he asked. "All I've done is hurt you."

I paused for a long time, trying to decide what to tell him, and then I said, "It's complicated, but I suppose I'll miss you after all of this is over."

"I'll miss you too," Jean-Luc admitted. "I'll miss Papa and Sophie...I don't know what I'll do without them...can you say goodbye to them for me? Please?"

"Of course."

"It will be nice to see Maman again though. I heard that's where she is. New Caledonia."

I nodded. "Léa says your mother is doing well for herself, and I'm sure she'll be glad to see you too."

There were tears in Jean-Luc's eyes, but he managed to smile slightly at the thought of his mother. If there was one silving lining to Jean-Luc's situation, it was that he might finally reunite with Claire, even if it was under the worst of circumstances.

I heard a loud whistle, and the train began to pull away from the station. Jean-Luc waved to me one last time, and I wiped away a single tear as the train headed down the track, toward Marseille, as Jean-Luc's face grew smaller and smaller. It was then that I saw Bergmann and Lajoie's killer as he truly was: a child, capable of cruelty and of love, scared of what the future might have in store.

Finally, those hazel eyes disappeared into the distance, and I never saw Jean-Luc Sylvestre again. To this day, I don't know what became of him, and I don't think I ever will. I can only hope that he's reformed, mended his ways, grown into someone better, made peace with himself.

I like to think that's what happened, but I suppose I'll never know.

Once he was gone, I left the Gare de Lyon, and I headed toward the café. Of course, Léa was already there, and she gave me a hug as soon as I arrived. I was simply glad to have her there, to know that she would support me no matter what happened.

"It's finally over," I said, and from the look in her eyes, I could tell that Léa knew exactly what I meant.

All of a sudden, Moreau walked in, and I waved to him as soon as I saw him. He eyed Léa with suspicion, but nevertheless, he sat down next to the two of us, violin case in hand.

"You just finished with your audition, didn't you?" I said, glancing toward the instrument. Moreau nodded, and then I asked, "How did it go?"

"I don't know," Moreau responded. "The Concert National is still deciding on the results of the final round. I think I played well, but I just don't know..."

"Moreau, relax," I said. "I'm sure you did great."

"And no matter how well you did, you still didn't singlehandedly save two peoples' lives by winning a swordfight," Léa said.

"Wait, what?" Moreau said.

"Mattie didn't tell you?" Léa said, relishing the opportunity to brag about her fencing skill. "So Judge Marchand is a regular at the fencing hall, and..."

As Léa recounted the story of how she had beaten the judge, I stared out the window, and I thought of Louise Pascal, Pierre Lajoie, and Johann Bergmann. It was finally over now. Their killers had been brought to justice, but even exiling Jean-Luc and Romain to New Caledonia wouldn't bring the three of them back.

I watched a group of children running by, screaming, and a melody drifted through my head. Instantly realizing that I needed to write it down before I forgot about it, I pulled out my composition book, but Moreau quickly glanced over and asked, "How are your compositions coming along?"

"I don't know," I said as I scribbled down some notes and rhythms. "I have a few melodies in mind, but I haven't written any accompaniments yet..."

"Did you ever finish that symphony?" Moreau asked.

"I did," I said. "I just don't know what to do with it."

"You could publish it."

"Do you really think it's good enough?"

"Of course," Moreau said. "Alphonse Guillot - he's in the Order of the Nightingales, I think - runs a music publishing house, and he might be interested in your work." He paused and then said, "From what I've seen, your symphony is incredible. If you want, I can help you get it out into the world."

"Thank you, Mr. Moreau," I said. "I'd appreciate that."

Moreau smiled and then said, "You've spent the last few months supporting me. I thought I'd return the favor."

I smiled and glanced back and forth between Felix Moreau and Léa Valencourt, the two people I loved most. Things had been chaotic ever since I'd moved to Paris, but I wouldn't trade it for anything, not when I had both of them by my side. Between the three of us, we had learned a violin concerto, written a symphony, become the undefeated fencing champion of Paris, solved a mystery.

Tomorrow, we would take on the world.