Beyond the moon - 1 : Dreams

8 - THE IMPASSE

I found myself in a dark room. Pieces of opaque adhesive paper were applied to small rectangular windows, installed relatively high on the walls, preventing sunlight from passing through. A man, dressed in a long black tunic, was sitting in an armchair facing a good fire, smoking his pipe. Frames were arranged all over the walls, furniture and fireplace. One of them told me that he was a man in his forties. He was placing a birthday cake next to it, one of which was a four and a zero on a piece of almond paste placed in the center of the cake. Only, the picture seemed to date, it was in black and white. I looked at the man in the chair, and he looked well preserved for his age. But another photo of him on the mantelpiece interrupted me. It was in sepia, showing it in front of the Cherbourg ferry station, which I recognized immediately. At the bottom of the frame, one could read:

Port of Cherbourg,

inaugurated July 30, 1933

by Mr. Lebrun,

President of the Republic

But something was wrong. How could he be on the picture, when it was dated 1933? I made a brief calculation in my head. The man would be at least seventy-five years old. And in this picture, he was easily forty. No, it was not possible. He would have today ... one hundred and fifteen years! Maybe it was his grandfather? Still, it seemed to me that it was him on the picture. Or, that person looked a lot like him. I looked at him more closely. His face did not show any wrinkles. His complexion was of remarkable chalk pallor, incredibly contrasting with his short black raven hair. Obviously, this person should not bear the sun to have such a white skin. Maybe that's why the windows were covered with an opaque film? It was none of this, however, which caught my attention.

Curiously, his irises were dark purple. The flames in the fireplace made them change color. His pupils were now golden.

A door at the back of the office opened. A charming young man entered. He was draped in a long black coat. He moved quickly to the center of the room and dropped to one knee and lowered his head.

The chair swiveled towards the young man.

- Well, my young friend! Did you find what I'm looking for? asked the man.

"Yes, Master," replied the young man, raising his head.

- Well, tell me! the forty-year-old impatient.

- We located the last elected in the north of France, Master. Not far from Cherbourg, to be more precise, informed him the young man.

- Perfect ! exclaimed the master, getting up from the chair.

He went to the fireplace and stared at the flames.

"Send five of your men to keep an eye on her," he said, turning to face the young man.

His eyes had changed color again. They became red again.

- Good, Master.

The young man nodded and stood up, then moved to the door.

- Wait a minute, Lazare.

He turned back to his master.

- Master ?

- Tell them to observe it well. She may not be aware of her gift, but otherwise, if your men find themselves forced to make contact with her, they will know what to expect. And make sure they will also know how to stand in front of her. I do not want any mistake, I want it alive and intact.

- I'll make sure personally, Master.

Lazare turned again towards the door, and was ready to cross it, when a second person entered. He stepped aside slightly to let the newcomer through and nodded to him before leaving the room.