Read Online Past Lives by Shana Chartier - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Shana Chartier
Ads: Link
love, my fear, my hope. He held back just as fiercely. I wished I could see his face.
We finally reached the bottom floor and hid behind some casks of wine, still holding each other tight, Bastien wrapping his wide arms around us both.
“I saw them down here,” a voice said from above…a woman with a strange accent. Light flickered at the top of the staircase, and Bastien ushered us behind him. Jacqueline and I crouched into as tiny a ball as we could, silently praying that they would not find us here. Their light licked the stone walls as they made their way down the steps, and time came to a stop.
Standing at the head of a small group of violent looking men was Jeannette, dressed in a servant’s apron and covered in flour. Her eyes flashed when she saw me, her gaze raw with the animalistic need to survive, and one other unmistakable thing.
Hate.
In such a small space, with actual light, we looked ridiculous trying to crouch in a corner and remain unseen. Slowly, with resignation, we unfolded ourselves and stood before our judge and jury: the angry people of France. The man holding the torch was the first to break the silence.
“You, as members of the aristocracy, have been condemned to death for your crimes against the people of the republic of France.” His voice was deep and resolute, his anger radiating in the firelight. Bastien stood to his full height, his dark hair brushing against the ceiling.
“These women have no cause to harm you. You will let them go, and I will be tried for that which you condemn.”
“No!” I cried, coming out from behind a barrel and standing up next to him. His look of reproach was not enough to keep me from standing by his side at the moment of our death.
“I personally have seen the crimes this woman has committed, and stand as witness,” Jeannette said, and I realized the strange accent was hers. She was convincingly pretending to be a servant in my household, and I knew there would be nothing I could say to condemn her in their eyes as my own kind. The torch wielder unsheathed his own dirty knife, which was much larger than my own. His eyes sparkled with malicious humor as he flipped it around and held the handle out to Jeannette.
“Then you may have the pleasure of carrying out her sentence,” he said, Jeannette’s eyes widening for barely an instant before she grasped the handle firmly and without reservation.
“I tell you, you will not do this!” Bastien yelled, and before he could say another word, a man from the back pulled out a pistol and shot him in the stomach. He cried out, pitching forward in agony.
“No!” Jacqueline cried, falling onto her brother, laying him on his back and cradling him as he bled out onto the floor. I watched Jeannette approach me slowly, deliberately, like a cat stalking its prey. She stood before me, victorious.
“Why?” I asked, truly needing to know. My knees shook with the fear of death, my nostrils heavy with the scent of Bastien’s blood. She leaned in close and whispered in my ear.
“Now my family can have their rightful title back, as it should always have been.”
And then she plunged the dagger into my stomach, piercing pain driving straight through me as I fell to the floor next to Bastien, our faces nearly touching. I heard another gunshot and felt Jacqueline fall over Bastien, and then the light began to recede. I stared hard at Bastien’s face as it disappeared in the darkness, holding onto any thought that would drive away the pain…the weakness as my life left my body. He stared back, the chocolate of his eyes turning to coal.
“I love you too, Bastien. I’m sorry I never said it before,” I whispered, a single tear rolling down the side of my face and into the pool of his blood.
“I wish that things…could have been different,” he said, his eyes losing focus. I began to feel a warm cocoon wrap around me, the consuming desire to close my eyes for eternal sleep.
“As do I, my love. As do
We finally reached the bottom floor and hid behind some casks of wine, still holding each other tight, Bastien wrapping his wide arms around us both.
“I saw them down here,” a voice said from above…a woman with a strange accent. Light flickered at the top of the staircase, and Bastien ushered us behind him. Jacqueline and I crouched into as tiny a ball as we could, silently praying that they would not find us here. Their light licked the stone walls as they made their way down the steps, and time came to a stop.
Standing at the head of a small group of violent looking men was Jeannette, dressed in a servant’s apron and covered in flour. Her eyes flashed when she saw me, her gaze raw with the animalistic need to survive, and one other unmistakable thing.
Hate.
In such a small space, with actual light, we looked ridiculous trying to crouch in a corner and remain unseen. Slowly, with resignation, we unfolded ourselves and stood before our judge and jury: the angry people of France. The man holding the torch was the first to break the silence.
“You, as members of the aristocracy, have been condemned to death for your crimes against the people of the republic of France.” His voice was deep and resolute, his anger radiating in the firelight. Bastien stood to his full height, his dark hair brushing against the ceiling.
“These women have no cause to harm you. You will let them go, and I will be tried for that which you condemn.”
“No!” I cried, coming out from behind a barrel and standing up next to him. His look of reproach was not enough to keep me from standing by his side at the moment of our death.
“I personally have seen the crimes this woman has committed, and stand as witness,” Jeannette said, and I realized the strange accent was hers. She was convincingly pretending to be a servant in my household, and I knew there would be nothing I could say to condemn her in their eyes as my own kind. The torch wielder unsheathed his own dirty knife, which was much larger than my own. His eyes sparkled with malicious humor as he flipped it around and held the handle out to Jeannette.
“Then you may have the pleasure of carrying out her sentence,” he said, Jeannette’s eyes widening for barely an instant before she grasped the handle firmly and without reservation.
“I tell you, you will not do this!” Bastien yelled, and before he could say another word, a man from the back pulled out a pistol and shot him in the stomach. He cried out, pitching forward in agony.
“No!” Jacqueline cried, falling onto her brother, laying him on his back and cradling him as he bled out onto the floor. I watched Jeannette approach me slowly, deliberately, like a cat stalking its prey. She stood before me, victorious.
“Why?” I asked, truly needing to know. My knees shook with the fear of death, my nostrils heavy with the scent of Bastien’s blood. She leaned in close and whispered in my ear.
“Now my family can have their rightful title back, as it should always have been.”
And then she plunged the dagger into my stomach, piercing pain driving straight through me as I fell to the floor next to Bastien, our faces nearly touching. I heard another gunshot and felt Jacqueline fall over Bastien, and then the light began to recede. I stared hard at Bastien’s face as it disappeared in the darkness, holding onto any thought that would drive away the pain…the weakness as my life left my body. He stared back, the chocolate of his eyes turning to coal.
“I love you too, Bastien. I’m sorry I never said it before,” I whispered, a single tear rolling down the side of my face and into the pool of his blood.
“I wish that things…could have been different,” he said, his eyes losing focus. I began to feel a warm cocoon wrap around me, the consuming desire to close my eyes for eternal sleep.
“As do I, my love. As do
Similar Books
