Scrivener’s Tale. Fiona McIntosh

he cursed beneath his breath. ‘Vous êtes fou!’

      She stirred. ‘Who is mad?’ But she rolled over and her mumbling dissipated.

      Gabe watched her for a moment, struck again by her ethereal beauty, the dark almost black hair such a contrast to the pale skin. He smiled in spite of himself — she was irresistible and he could only imagine what René would think if he could see this scene.

      René. There had to be fallout from this. The man so jealously guarding Angelina was hardly going to take this event on the chin and with a grin. Gabe sighed again.

      He padded over to the coffee machine and flicked it on. All he knew was that the myriad sensations of being with Angelina had swept away years of pain. As he ground the coffee beans, heedless of whether it disturbed his guest, he saw movement from the corner of his eye. Turning around, he was alarmed to see the raven sitting on the balcony, backlit by the streetlight so that a halo of gold surrounded its menacing shape. It made no sound. Gabe was speared by its gaze, and Angelina’s arrival into the kitchen area nearly made him yell with fright.

      ‘Hello,’ she said sleepily.

      He snapped his fear-filled attention from the bird to her. ‘Evening,’ he replied, as casually as he could. He glanced back to the window but the raven was gone.

      ‘What time is it?’ she asked, yawning.

      ‘Well past nine. Toast? Coffee?’

      She shook her head with a smile. ‘But thank you.’

      ‘Do you ever eat?’

      Angelina laughed. ‘I suppose I’d better go.’

      He wasn’t sure what to say and watched her turn away. He took another worried look at the window. The bird was definitely no longer there but he felt rattled by its presence. Neighbours hadn’t mentioned ravens. He would have to make some enquiries.

      Gabe sipped his espresso before moving after Angelina. She was pulling on her clothes. She’d never looked more desirable than now, half-dressed, her hair tousled and a bit sleepy still.

      ‘You don’t have to leave, you know.’

      Angelina paused. ‘I’ll be missed.’

      ‘You never did tell me how you slipped René’s watch.’

      ‘It doesn’t matter. I just feel lucky I’ve had this chance to be alone.’ She shrugged.

      ‘Does he lock you up?’

      She shook her head. ‘I’ve never disobeyed him.’

      ‘I’ve noticed. You’ve had opportunities to slip him even in my presence.’

      ‘No point.’

      ‘Why?’

      ‘Because here is where I want to be.’

      He frowned. Didn’t understand. Angelina was behaving in an obtuse manner.

      ‘Here? But you don’t like Paris, you said you wanted to leave … and go home. A home that was far away.’

      ‘I’m glad you paid attention.’

      ‘You’re hard to ignore.’

      She pulled on her sweater, a small strip of her belly showing at its lower edge. And once again he felt a pulse of desire. Not again, he told himself.

      ‘I’m pleased to hear it,’ Angelina remarked and sat on the bed to pull on her boots.

      ‘Except what we did was wrong.’

      ‘Why?’ she asked conversationally, not even looking at him.

      ‘I mean, what I did was wrong.’

      Now she gazed up at him. ‘I had some say in it, you know.’

      ‘Yes,’ he sighed, all too aware of how patronising he was sounding. ‘I’m trying to say that the blame is mine, not yours.’

      She looked at him unimpressed. ‘Oh, I don’t know. It looked very much to me like I was seducing you.’

      ‘Yes, but —’

      ‘And men are so predictable in this regard,’ she added, echoing his earlier thought.

      ‘We’re simple creatures,’ he said in mock apology.

      ‘Not you, Gabe,’ she said.

      He gave a low snort. ‘I’m as simple as the next man.’

      Angelina stood and walked over to him. He loved the way she moved. Silent and as though she glided over the surface of his carpet. ‘You underestimate yourself.’

      ‘And you know so much about me,’ he gently rebuked her.

      ‘You’d be surprised how much I do know.’

      ‘Angelina, don’t go.’

      ‘Why?’

      ‘Because it’s late. It’s freezing outside. It’s …’ He paused to glance through the window, half-expecting a raven to leap at him. ‘It’s turning frosty so you could slip on the wet, icy pavement. Not very nice people use the cover of darkness to be abroad.’

      ‘Abroad?’ She laughed. ‘What a quaint phrase. How thoroughly medieval of you.’

      He frowned. ‘Stay. Why don’t we revisit the conversation that René interrupted?’

      ‘Back to psychologist and patient?’

      He didn’t respond immediately. Then sighed. ‘Why not? It’s what we are.’

      ‘Half an hour ago we were something rather different.’

      He felt himself blush. ‘All right, I deserved that. What I mean is that it’s a perfect opportunity for us to talk without René breathing down our necks. Whatever trouble happens, it’s not going to happen for a few more hours. We have time.’

      She nodded and let out a sigh, sank back onto the bed. ‘Ask your questions.’

      Gabe swallowed his coffee, put the small cup down and sat beside her. ‘You feel safe here … in this apartment,’ he began. ‘That’s what you meant by “here”, I take it?’

      ‘I meant with you.’

      ‘You feel safe with me, then.’

      ‘No, I have found what I came to find. You.’

      He gave her a searching look. ‘Let’s leave that for now.’ She smiled and once more he had that sense of an old cunning. ‘You said René is fearful.’

      ‘He’s scared of both of us now, particularly that the two of us might be alone together like this. If he knew this was happening, he would try and kill you.’

      Gabe blinked in astonishment. ‘Well, there’s an overreaction,’ he said, unable to mask the sarcasm.

      She stared back at him. ‘You think I jest?’

      ‘I know you do.’

      ‘Shall we call him and see his reaction?’

      ‘No. I want to know why you believe he is scared of me.’

      ‘Because of what you’re capable of.’

      ‘Can you be more specific?’

      ‘Yes, but you wouldn’t believe me.’

      ‘Try me.’

      ‘You have the capacity to bring down an empire.’

      ‘An empire?’ He tried not to laugh but the amusement was evident in his expression.

      Angelina’s remained grave. ‘I need you to kill me, Gabe.’

      ‘What?’ he roared.

      She