Persephone's Angel

End of a Viscount's Love Story

Chapter Thirty Five: End of a Viscount's Love Story.

--* Pierre was, indeed, correct. We sat on the roof until night stole in, then, I heard the carriage doors open. I grasped Pierre's arm and nodded to him, however, it was quite hard to see, considering the only thing we used for light was the distant Eiffel Tower to our back.

There was a slight clinking to the left of us; they were climbing up. Pierre and I slowly walked to the side of the roof and slid down; Pierre made me slide down first. Then, as Pierre slid down, he screamed out for me. "Mummy!" He yelled; I gasped and hurried back over to the building. There were men grunting and Pierre was screaming for me, as if he were in pain. The thought of my little Pierre in pain infuriated me; there were no ladders or ropes to hoist myself up upon so I grasped onto the few bricks that jutted out and climbed up for my son.

My nails continued peeling back as some of the bricks crumbled beneath my weight; my hands shook and my fingertips were covered in a glowing maroon liquid and stung every time I touched a brick. Pierre had now fully let go of the brick building and was sputtering wildly; his legs flew before him and his hands clawed at the man who held him. I don't know why the man wouldn't just yank Pierre over the roof, but, I was thankful that he didn't. Finally, I reached up and I grasped Pierre's sock, for, his shoe had flown off in his fight. Pierre calmed the leg that I touched, but his other leg and hands struck the man holding him captive viciously.

The man cried out and I felt Pierre's weight bare down upon me; it was too much for the crumbling building. The bricks that once held me turned to dust beneath my feet; Pierre grasped my shoulders and held himself close to me before we hit the ground.

When we did, I gasped for breath, but none was to be given! In a panic I pushed Pierre off of me and rolled onto all fours, gasping and hacking until air was once again let into my lungs. I shook violently and the tips of my fingers froze over, along with my toes; I guess it was from the lack of oxygen, if only for a moment or two. Pierre held my shoulders and was asking if I was alright, he kissed my cheek when I nodded. I gave a weak smile and heard a few men cursing as the clinking of footsteps on metal rang in my ears once again; they were coming down from the roof. I stood and almost fell over, shaking my head and grasping Pierre's wrist; there was no time for dizziness now.

And, together we ran.

Mother and son.

 In these moments I realized (it was quite a late realization) that William would haunt us until either he or I are laying in a coffin.

And so, lately I had been formulating plans, and, as of now, I had a plan, not a good plan, but a plan nonetheless, only, Erik couldn't know about it.

He wouldn't react the same.

No one could know about it.

Well...

Maybe Pierre.

--* "That's it! You've gone completely, utterly, mental!" Pierre screamed as he ran beside me. "Do you know what father would be like? You'd destroy him! You can't do this, mummy, you just can't."

"Well, Pierre, we can't just run like this forever!" I countered.

"But, mummy, you'll kill him...you'll kill him, I know it! Can't we just lead him to Rue de Rivoli and shoot him there?" Pierre asked, I sighed (which is quite hard to do as you run from the very man you're speaking of killing).

"It would end it blood" I said as soft as I could.

"It will all end in blood!" Pierre cried, "either way we chose...we cannot win...can't you see, mummy? Either way, whichever plan we go with, someone is going to die" said Pierre, shaking his head.