Chapter 23: Sin

Is it a sin to make love when the lover's heart is true?
Or, is evil judged by virtue lost and a man's malevolent grin?

A Fool's Book of Wisdom

Jacob Ruthven hungrily gasped in the coolness of the night air as he carefully closed the heavy metal door behind him. His fingers worked unthinkingly over the workings of the lock, which secured the door. After giving the lock a final tug to ascertain he had secured it properly, the man pulled up the lapels of his coat, nestled his head within their comforting shelter and walked quickly away from the evil that currently resided in the boiler room.

"Mon Dieu! Everything inside me tells me to run from that man as fast and as far away as I can. But, each time I am near Madame's cottage, I feel something drawing me and holding me there. Perhaps, it is best if I continue my vigil. If I do not do that man's bidding, I know the next one he hires will not give a fig for anything that man plans to do to them. Xavier surely has something dreadful planned. Maybe I can keep them safe or at the very least, warn them. Merde! I am as good as dead just for having these thoughts. What the fuck is wrong with me? I have never before cared about the fate of those upon whom I spy. Why these people? Putain! With Xavier being the way he is, I am bound to get myself killed acting like this. I am an imbecile, a complete and utter fool. Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!"

The distraught man unleashed his anger on a tin can lying on the ground, pulling his foot back, kicking it hard and sending it clattering into the wall of the alley. He winced at the sound it made and glanced quickly around to see if the noise attracted any attention. Seeing no one, he sighed and ran his hand through his unruly locks.

"Of all the idiotic times to grow a conscience, Jacob! Why now, damnez-le?"

And, a little voice inside his head spoke.

"You have chosen now to grow a conscience because when you are near that woman, you can feel and that is something you have never done in this life. You feel something, Jacob..."

He wanted to clap his hands over his ears, so he would not have to listen to that voice. Not wishing to dwell any deeper into his newly awakened feelings, as he feared he would not like the answers he discovered, he broke into a trot and disappeared into the shadows of the back alleys of Paris. He had a job to do, whether he liked it or not.

The carriage rocked and lurched as it tilted dangerously into a pothole. Too late its sole occupant sought to brace himself, as his mind had wandered far from the confines of the vehicle and he had been lost in those unfamiliar thoughts. His head thudded heavily against the hardwood frame of the door, causing the man to curse soundly. Placing his hand over the bruised spot and wincing as he examined the growing lump with his fingers, he looked out the window and to his surprise, found it was late afternoon; he had almost arrived at his destination. He slid open the partition in the roof of the carriage and hailed the driver to stop. Jacob grabbed his beaten and weathered leather valise from the floor of the conveyance and hopped out as soon as the coachman opened the door. He nodded to the man as he tossed a small bag of coins to him. Jacob turned and casually entered the Bois de Vincennes. He chose a path at random and strolled casually along it, pausing here and there as if to admire the scenery. His feet followed no discernable course other than to veer his steps ever towards the northeast section of the park, which led him into the most heavily forested part of the Bois. When the trail he followed began to veer to the south, he nonchalantly glanced around, making certain that no watchful eyes were upon him. As soon as he felt sure of his anonymity, he left the path and silently slipped into the cold embrace of the shadowy forest. He followed a circuitous route as he made his way towards the cottage hidden deep in the wood. Jacob found himself often stopping and listening carefully to the quiet sounds of the forest around him. After a time, he realized that his traitorous mind listened for something, but what it was, he did not know. The deeper he forged into the forest, the more he paused to listen. When at last he despaired of hearing anything but the soft sounds of the trees and beasts, he shuddered, as the strains of a gentle melody seemed to reach out to him and enfold him within its strangely comforting embrace. The music evoked a hazy memory to slip before his mind's eye, gone in a flash, leaving only a vague impression of a pair of adoring hazel-hued eyes.

"How could I forget? I always think I hear music when I come here. It is so soft, almost as if someone was playing it within a closed room with me standing just outside, but I am being foolish. It must be the wind blowing through the trees for there are no such things as ghosts. It must be some trick created by Monsieur de Seul to keep inquisitive people such as me away from their cottage. I do not know anyone with hazel eyes that ever looked upon me with such emotion. Perhaps, the rumors about Madame Helen are true and she is a witch. Maybe, this forest is bewitched."

He caught himself before he chuckled aloud and shook his head in disgust.

"I am getting sloppy. Imagine laughing out loud here of all places. Mon Dieu! This place may not be haunted, but it certainly is strange. There! At last! There it is. Now, let us see how Madame de Blanc and her charges fare this fine spring evening."

Banishing his uneasiness with a shrug and a smirk, he continued on his way to the cottage. With the lilting notes running unaware through his mind, Jacob felt emboldened and he continued to creep closer to the cottage. Without realizing what he was doing, he dropped his valise near the trunk of a tree and continued past the point at which he normally stopped. A light shone in one of the windows and it attracted him, much like a moth to a candle flame. As he came closer, he noticed a shadowy figure crossing back and forth in front of the window. The logical part of his mind understood that someone was in the room and that he should stay away from the window. But, he felt a presence within that called to him and it awoke a hitherto dormant part of his soul. Something or someone in that room beckoned to him, summoned him to come and look through the window. The man slunk lower to the ground and moved toward the window with the grace of a predatory feline. He crouched below the window, gathering his courage to peek inside the room and then slowly began to stand. His back, stiff from his hunched sojourn across the yard, protested his attempt to straighten it and Jacob suddenly felt as if the world around him shifted. He resisted the urge to groan, as the silvery panes of glass seemed to tilt and swirl before his eyes. Feeling a desperate need to hold onto something as he rode out the wave of nausea, he reached out his hand and grasped hold of the windowsill to steady him. A powerful jolt of electricity entered his hand and shot up his arm the moment he touched it. A surge of unexpected excitement followed the initial shock and, the little voice that lived deep within him seemed to cry out in joyous recognition of the force rolling through his body. His eyes closed, his head rolled back and his cock began to harden.