AVENIR

Chapter 1: A Familiar Face

I looked down at the halves of the E in my hand, which no longer radiated with a golden light. In fact, the broken artifact's entire color had faded. Instead of appearing to be made of gold, the two halves seemed to be made out of a duller bronze, or perhaps copper.

I quickly ran to the window. I was certainly not in the Café Musain anymore, for instead of the city of Paris, I was overlooking a wide, spanning yard with perfectly manicured roses lined up against a stone pathway. It looked as if I now found myself inside a French mansion. I took in the surroundings of the room. A large bed took up most of the space, there was a roaring fire in a large fireplace across the room, and in a corner, there was an enormous walk-in closet. There were two doors, one of which was closed and one which was open, leading into a bathroom. I looked at myself in the bedroom mirror – I was still wearing the clothing of the Parisian Honor Guard! Oh gosh...oh gosh...oh gosh...I knew enough from my experience with my brother about the dangers of meddling with time. It could make a person go crazy...

No one could see me in such futuristic clothing.

I hurried over to the closet. It was completely empty...I had to find something more suitable to wear! Just as I gazed outside at the French flag hanging from the roof right outside the window, I heard footsteps approaching the closed door. There was no time left. I ran to the window. I quickly unlatched it, leaned out and grabbed the French flag, taking it off of its pole. I heard a knock and the doorknob turn. I wildly wrapped the French flag around me – it was so large that it fit almost all the way down my entire legs. Then I sprinted into the bathroom and slammed the door. I heard the bedroom door open. Panting and looking around wildly, I heard a woman's voice calling "Emily? Emily?"

"Yes, madame, I'm a little busy at the moment!" I called back, playing the part of...Emily, as I tied the flag tightly to me, stripping the futuristic clothing off and hiding it from sight. "I'm not feeling very well, at all!"

"And leave the fire running? I'll put it out for you, Julien and I need to leave, now, my dear. Oh," I could hear her fussing to put out the fire, "traveling did always make you sick. We appreciate you coming all this way just for one week watching our son! He'll be waking up any moment now."

I had just one thought in my head: she had no idea how far all this way was. And I was clearly not a babysitter. But she clearly wasn't very bright.

I continued to play along. "Alright, now, you know I'll be – cough – fine, it comes in waves, you know, I'll just be a minute, now," I replied. "When is his bedtime again?" I called.

"Dearie! All that traveling must have gone to your head! We've discussed this! You'll be fine, the maids put him to bed! Please don't be difficult, you know the fifteen sitters before have been fired, you know you're the only one who will watch him!" she cried, getting more hysterical by the minute. Great, I thought, he's a brat.

I heard a formidable male voice shout up the stairs. It gave me shivers. This was not a good house to find myself inside. The chilling voice sounded like no one I ever wanted to be around.

"I must go!" she screeched. "See you in seven days! Feel better, dearie!"

I heard her heels click-clacking as she ran down the stairs, and I heard the door slam. The flag was still wrapped tight around me. Looking in the mirror, I huffed. "Babysitter, am I? I'm nineteen years old, fresh off the streets! Yet here I am...in a mansion, expected to babysit a little rich brat!" I laughed. "Javert must have meant me to find something here, but what..." I thought about what the woman had said. "But I can't just leave a child in this huge place all alone...gosh, mansions make me sick. I never thought I'd see the inside of one..." I was talking to myself. I walked quickly out of the bathroom only to realize that the bedroom door was lying open and there was already a little someone there.

The clock next to the door read 7:00 AM but this boy was already wide awake and dressed. He was young – maybe seven or eight – and he was very short in height but the way he was dressed made him appear much older. He was wearing black pants, a white dress shirt, and a red tailcoat, buttoned up with a black cravat tucked neatly inside. He was staring at me, with the French flag still stupidly wrapped around me, and he appeared bewildered.

I stared back at his curly blonde hair, his chiseled nose and cheeks, his crystal-clear blue eyes...I paled.

They want me to take care of...

"E-Enjolras?" I stammered.

"P-Patria?" he whispered back in response, a look of absolute wonder on his young but wise face.