Apparition

Nicolas stood up and staggered as he walked towards the door with a drink in his hand. The alcohol clouded his mind. Usually, one drink was enough to relax him. However, right now, he had already downed a second glass to work up the courage and was about to start the next one. Except for the pill he took before he left with Clara, he no longer took any pill and had burned all the formulas he had developed for Daphné. He now forbade himself these illicit pleasures, these odes to love that he had played only for her and with her. He still reluctantly kept the dull but vital chimiocs. Even though, it had been his own choice, he felt like a monk forced to practice asceticism against his will.

He had never been fond of alcoholic drinks and winced while swallowing another draft of liquid, feeling his throat burning. Clara's presence alone was enough to calm him but she had remained in a safer place with Mathilde. Right now, he felt really nervous. He had to push himself to control a new burst of paranoia, what would he do if something happened to Clara? He had known the old Shadow Girl for a very long time, he knew she was trustworthy and he could leave Clara in her care. However, he still missed his beloved daughter.

At Mathilde's request, he had returned to the laboratory of his clinic to get the pentothal. He couldn't possibly refuse her, now that he had to stay with the Shadow Girls to protect Clara. On the way, an envoy had given him a letter from Doctor Sanders. How could she predict his every movements? The future suddenly looked very gloomy, the ground seemed to crumble under his feet at every step. In an anguish-induced daze, Nicolas had continued on his way and had locked himself in his office to read the letter. His hands, which were shaking increasingly, made the task difficult. Thus, he had swallowed a first sip of alcohol to calm himself, and then another one without being able to open the envelope yet.

Finally, he took a paper knife. A small blade almost as thin and sharp as a scalpel. For a moment, he had considered ending his own life in order to avoid the ordeals ahead. He only needed a single slash to cut the carotid artery, nothing simpler for him and yet…

Clara needed him now, he could no longer be a coward, he had to live. He opened the letter. He expected to find a summons, an order or, at best, a request for information about Daphné's death. Dr Sanders had performed the autopsy a year ago and was still conducting a thorough investigation. She would never give up so easily. Nicolas knew that they had been childhood girl friends. Daphné had previously interceded with the formidable scientist to save him. This time, he was alone to face her, he felt that his end was near. It would be their first and last direct confrontation. He had no doubt that he would be crushed and utterly defeated by the judiciary given his position and background. Mercy was never granted to the powerful people who sided with rebels.

Almost despite himself, Nicolas smiled because of the paradox of his future condemnation: for years he had practiced his art as a doctor and chemist to save and treat every arkian and especially the rebels, Shadow Girls in the lead. Since their first encounter, he had given Daphné everything she needed to remain the most flamboyant shadow. A single dose from dubious origin had been enough to kill her and this same product, unknown and lethal, was going to send Nicolas to a certain death after his trial.

Leave Clara to meet Daphné. What a cruel choice!

He came closer to the window and looked down. From his office, one could watch the entrance of the clinic and a large part of the street. The simple memo from Dr Sanders comprised a request for him to wait and meet two people, and to treat this matter with the utmost discretion. It seemed strange and not as threatening as he thought. Nicolas wished he could understand the intents of the ruthless Colette Sanders. Would he grant her this favor in return for what she had done for him in the past? Probably not. She had not acted for his sake but at Daphné's behest. Only curiosity impelled him to stay a little longer to see who would come knocking at his door.

The clinic was deserted ever since he had left in a hurry with Clara. Staff and patients had been transferred to other health centers. His unexplained and unexpected disappearance had not been solved yet. However, Mona had assured him that, because of the state of emergency and the curfew, the authorities – both the police and the army – were busy with higher priority cases. Colette Sanders herself, though she managed to find him, did not seem to know or care about Clara. He had ultimately picked a suitable day for his daughter's birth.

From his observation post, Nicolas spotted shadows seemingly armed and moving with stealth. The silhouettes undoubtedly belonged to Arkian policemen or perhaps to Special Forces. He'd better not linger here. Never mind his own curiosity, it was really too bad for his visitors. However, if he sensed danger, he only knew how to hide and flee. Years of clandestine activities had sharpened his perception. Of course, he was not infallible as shown by his capture by Capitan Gili, who was now in the hands of the Shadow Girls. However, he would never ignore any alert nor any sign.

Fear helped him sober up completely. He ran to the trapdoor in the ceiling of his office. He left his glass on a console table and grabbed instead the vials of pentothal. He climbed onto the desk, broke open the trapdoor, and lifted himself up into the drop ceiling. It was the first time he managed to use the secret trapdoor so easily and on his first attempt. Survival instinct really could bring miracles ! He crawled up until he reached the opening near the framework of the clinic and went out onto the roof. His heart was pounding with fear and he began to break a sweat. Luckily, his moist forehead quickly dried thanks to the warm air from outside.

He flattened himself against a chimney and, catching his breath, ventured a glance below.

Since Daphné's death, he had stopped all training and physical exercise. When she was still there, running on rooftops at night, racing, jumping from balcony to balcony, everything was a game and a real pleasure. Now it was a matter of using all that she had taught him in order to get away.

Below, two silhouettes were approaching. He could guess the wariness from their demeanors and caution in their actions but he could also see the police's noose tightening around them. His two visitors would soon be captured and he did not wish to accompany them, he had to go back to Clara as soon as possible.

Still a bit curious, Nicolas noticed that one of them seemed unusually tall. What could Doctor Sanders do with a No-light?

Nicolas stood up to run away when a intuition stopped him. Something in the gait of the second silhouette was somewhat familiar to him. Then the truth appeared to him like a flash. Daphné was down there, coming back for him and walking straight into a trap. The shock caused him to lose his balance. He slipped on the tiles and slid down the slanted roof. A scream escaped from his lips. He had rehearsed this scenario many times, though. He even knew how to get back on the roof from a precarious position, hanging off the gutter with his fingertips. However, he still found it scary.

When he stopped slipping, he was not hanging in midair, but lying on his back, his heels thrusted into the mixture of dust and dry earth that was clogging up the now unnecessary drainage gutter for rainwater that had long stopped falling.

Nicolas heard gunshots. The noise echoed in the deserted and silent street. He probably wasn't identified yet, but the law enforcement men had spotted him. He had to run and leave Daphné. He suddenly stood up on the edge of the roof and ran to safety, begging his beloved to forgive him for this desertion. The instinct, reflexes and automatisms taught and nurtured by Daphné took over. He was no longer thinking, he was running for his life.

He quickly reached a hiding place from where he could go down into the basement. The city's bowels contained a lot of refuges. Nicolas waited for a few moments. He had not been followed. The police never chased two rabbits at once and the No-light with his strength and height would give them enough trouble to delay them in their pursuit, if they decided to add another prey to their hunt.

For now, he was safe. He closed his eyes and Daphné's face appeared to him. Her smile, her laugh, their training, the images and the memories followed one another at great speed until the last one surfaced. He stood frozen, his mind overwhelmed by the memory of his beloved, in his arms, taking her last breath and smiling in death after suffering horribly. She was no more. He must have been mistaken, he must have seen a mirage, a simple illusion, unless it was the twin sister he didn't know.

In the darkness of his hiding place, reality struck him. He had just witnessed Chloé's return. Her heroic sacrifice in the ongoing war between Ark City and the outside had triggered the events that still shook the foundations of the city. But she had survived, maybe she had betrayed, similar yet different from Daphné's own rebellion. Unbeknown to all, Chloé had entered the City in the company of a No-light, and Colette Sanders was their accomplice.

A sinister laugh shook his whole body. Poor Daphné who admired so much, and cursed as much, the integrity, uprightness and honesty of her sister Chloé and her friend Colette, had never suspected their duplicity for a moment. The end was close, yes, but it wasn't just Nicolas Liston's. The city itself wouldn't get over this.

He slowly and cautiously went back to the hideout where he had left Clara in Mathilde's care. The old woman and the baby were asleep. Clara occupied her favorite position, huddled against the chest, with her nose hidden in the neck of her guardian. They awoke together at Nicolas' arrival and the latter took his treasure in his arms. He felt calm and safe again. Clara's presence brought only happiness and serenity to him.

Mathilde left with the pentothal. Nicolas almost held her back to ask her advice about Chloé. What should he do? Caressing the perfect little girl he held in his arms, he took the time to ponder and decided to talk about it directly with Mona. If Chloé and the stranger had been captured, as he thought, every hour could count. Therefore, he stood up reluctantly, disturbing Clara who nevertheless did not protest. His dash and the efforts necessary to escape weighed heavily on his legs but he forced himself to move towards the den of the leader of the Shadow Girls.