The noise of Kirika’s pistol was sufficient enough to garner the attention of the other three women in the vineyard’s clearing, enough that Mireille and Chloe stopped fighting just in time to watch their mutual friend slump to the ground.
Chloe was the first react. “Kirika? Kirika!” She rushed over to the body of her friend and grabbed her, putting her fingers to the jugular to check for a pulse that she already knew wouldn’t be there. Kirika never missed her target; she’d had no chance of survival. “No! This can’t be happening!” Not only had Chloe lost her best friend, but she’d lost her reason for living — her whole life had been a preparation for her entrance into Noir, and it had just been denied to her.
The young assassin was visibly trying to hold back sobs as she set Kirika down (on her back — the exit wound at the back of her head was somewhat grisly). Chloe brought her hand to her face; the palm was stained with her friend’s blood. “Gone… everything’s gone….” And there was only one person she could blame. That… that bitch! That interloping Corsican bitch! This is her fault! A glance in the direction at the bitch in question all but confirmed this in Chloe’s mind. Look at her. She hasn’t even changed the expression on her face. And she claimed that she cared about her!
However, while it was true that Mireille still had a Stoic look on her face, it wasn’t, as Chloe supposed, the result of any sort of apathy. She did care about Kirika — she’d tried as hard as she could not to, but in the end, she had to admit to herself that she cared about her former partner. That was why she was here, after all. But unlike Chloe, Mireille had arrived fully prepared for Kirika’s death. She’d promised the young Japanese girl that she’d kill her once they learned of her past, and she had come intending to keep that promise. Besides, getting emotional now was a bad idea; there was still a great deal of danger to worry about.
The most prominent of these dangers now stood, wiped her tears on her forearm, pulled out a knife, and shouted. “You bitch! You’ll pay for this!”
Mireille, however, had expected something like this, which was why she’d kept her gun pointed at Chloe the whole time. It seemed that they were just about to resume their fight with even more vigor when Althena, not shouting, but in a loud, firm (and extremely commanding) voice, said, “That’s enough.”
Thus distracted, Chloe turned to where her mother figure was standing. “What? But she… she killed her….”
“No. Kirika took her own life. I saw her do it; it was a choice she, and no other, made. Now, put down your knives.”
“But she still has her gun.”
“She won’t try anything. Not if she expects to leave here alive.”
“Who said I expected to survive this?” Mireille retorted.
“But your goal has been reached. Kirika will no longer have to deal with the ethical quandaries and moral implications of being a part of Noir. And so, we can move forward.”
“Don’t you get it? You’ve lost, Althena. Without Kirika, there can be no Noir.”
“Noir is two people. And I still see two women standing here.”
“Ha! You don’t really think Chloe and I are ever going to work together, do you? Because there’s no way that’s ever going to happen.”
“You may think so, but the passage of time—”
“Don’t give me that bullshit.”
“You may believe what you wish, of course. But this is the true nature of your trials; eventually, the three candidates meet, and fight. The survivors are the True Noir.”
“What?!” Mireille was dumbfounded. Had she been played for a fool again?
“I told Kirika that she would ultimately be the one who would decide which two candidates were the best for Noir. The unspoken implication, of course, was that she would kill the third. I assumed that she would be the one to carry this out, because she was clearly the most skilled of the three of you. Granted, I was not expecting that she would choose for both of you to become Noir—”
“She didn’t, you nutcase,” Mireille said bitterly. “She obviously did this to put an end to your plans.”
“And how do you know that, my dear? Did she tell you?”
“No… but….”
“Then I suggest you let her actions speak for themselves.”
“That’s what I am doing!”
Althena sighed. She knew that most of Mireille’s anger at the moment was a direct result of Kirika’s suicide, but she also knew that the Corsican truly was opposed to the formation of Noir — convincing her to change her mind would be quite an undertaking. “Why don’t you calm down for a minute; clearly, you’re becoming emotional over your friend’s death—”
“I am not getting emotional!” Mireille shouted as her face grew even redder.
“Is that so?”
Mireille sighed. “Fine. So I’m emotional. You would be too if your best friend just blew her brains out.”
“Then you and Chloe are in the same situation. And as both of you know, one should not make weighty decisions while under the influence of one’s emotions, unless it is absolutely necessary. And if you both agree to a truce, it will not be necessary.”
Mireille’s eyes nervously darted back and forth between the two women. “Only if she does it first.”
Althena turned her attention to her longtime ward. “Chloe? Will you do this?”
“But… what’s to stop her from killing me?”
“What’s stopping her now? She already said that she doesn’t expect to get out of this situation alive. She has no reason not to kill you now, except the possibility that she may survive. But killing you would remove that possibility entirely.”
Chloe was still understandably hesitant, so Althena decided to give her another push. “You were her closest friends. I’m certain that she would not want the two of you to destroy each other needlessly.”
This seemed to get through to the smaller of the candidates. Chloe reached into her tunic and pulled out a holster with about a dozen knives. “These are all I have — I didn’t expect a confrontation when we began the final rites.”
“What about the one hidden in the sole of your sandal?”
Chloe’s eyes widened as Althena proceeded to expose her trump card. With a sigh of resignation, she reached down and pulled another knife out of the back of her right sandal, half expecting to be killed before she had regained a full standing position. But Mireille did nothing; the handgun was still pointed at Chloe, but the Corsican did not pull the trigger.
“She did as you asked,” Althena pointed out. “And I give you my word as a servant of Noir that you shall be safe until we can sort things out.”
Mireille, of course, didn’t trust Althena as far as she could throw her, but she also knew that this was the only chance she had for survival — and though she might have been a loony, it seemed unlikely that she would be willing to go back on any promise that invoked Noir’s name. She’d probably think is was some sort of blasphemy, the assassin thought to herself. She decided that this was a reasonable risk to take, so she put the safety on her Walther P99, set it on the ground, and kicked it in Althena’s direction.
The erstwhile nun smiled. “Excellent. Now, as to your back up weapons….”
Mireille rolled her eyes and removed the knife she kept on her belt.
“Much better. Now, let’s get you settled in. Then we can prepare for Kirika’s funeral.” Althena didn’t mention that this funeral would actually be a preparation rite for the Grand Retour at the moment… something told her that Mireille would not appreciate that. “You can come out now, Jeanette.”
Althena’s assistant emerged from the doorway she’d been hiding behind. She looked at the scene nervously; though Chloe and Mireille were unarmed, the mood was still quite tense. “Yes?”
“Take Miss Bouquet to the guest quarters. If anyone asks, tell her she is under my protection, and any who attempt to do her harm shall face the consequences.”
“The guest quarters? Why? Shouldn’t she stay—”
“Not now, Jeanette. That can wait until later.”
“Alright. Come with me, please.” Mireille looked at the woman with suspicion, but soon decided to comply. After a long look at Kirika’s body, she left with Jeannette.
Mireille departure did much to relax the tension in the vineyard. Althena let out a sigh of relief; she’d managed to convince Mireille to hold off her final judgment on the situation for at least a few hours. She then spoke to her ward. “Chloe, I want you to go to your room, remove all your weapons, and give them to Marennes for safekeeping. I want Mireille to feel as safe as possible, when I speak to her later, and if you don’t have access to your knives, that should go a long way toward ensuring that safety. Don’t worry about Kirika; you will have another chance to say goodbye.”
Chloe nodded, but before she left, she had to know something. “Is it… is all that true? That Kirika believed that the Corsican and I were the best choices for Noir?”
Althena sighed again. “When Kirika took her life, she took her ideas with her. No one will ever know for certain what she intended.”
“But you sounded so confident when you told the Corsican otherwise….”
“I had to. Now that Kirika’s gone, you and she are the True Noir, and in theory, that means your destinies have been sealed. But unlike you, she grew up outside of the Manor, away from our influence. And sadly, her life to this point has afforded her few reasons to put any trust in us.”
Althena gave the young assassin one of her warm, reassuring smiles. “Do not worry. We’ve come this far — I’m certain things will work out in the end.”
Chloe nodded again; right now, she was so emotionally drained it was all she really could do.
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(Posted Sun, 18 Feb 2007 06:08)
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