Chapter Five: Unwanted

Sent to distract Liam from his work, Mercy finds that being in a close quarter with him was not what she had in mind.

Liam jumped in his seat as he heard a loud knock at his apartment door. Once he returned home, he had hoped that he would get straight to work on deciphering the unusual messages.

Now, at five in the afternoon, he had gotten nowhere. Grabbing his empty glass that held his drained bourbon, Liam was not expecting anyone. The back of his mind hinted that it was Renée, who had insisted that he be kept in the loop.

Nevertheless, he walked away from his large, touch screen diagram and went to open the door.

 

There, leaning against the doorframe, stood the last person he had ever expected to visit him.

 

Mercy held up a bag, “Dinner?”

Without waiting for a reply or invitation, she walked in and went to his small kitchen. As she unpacked the provisions on the counter, Liam caught the scent of freshly made Italian cooking.

The detective ignored his grumbling stomach and shut the door a little harder than necessary. With slight irritation from the unwanted summoning and lack of food, he asked, “Mercy, what are you doing here?” 

After a quick, searching gaze, she shrugged. “I figured you could use help on your case. I have read every single book in the library. You are not the only smart one. In addition, I figured we could catch up. It’s been three years after all.”

“Well ex-wives and husbands rarely visit each other unless one wants something from the other.”

He leaned against the wall and crossed his arms. “What do you want?”

She set down the wood-handled knife and pierced him with her gleaming eyes, “Is it so awful that I just want to talk; about you, how your case is proceeding, and what you plan to do?”

“How did you even find where I live?” he ignored her pretenses.

“Your friend, Renée.” The way she said his name was not comforting; it was filled with loathing.

Liam caught this, “What’s your problem with the chief?”

“He likes to stick his nose into everything, even private matters. Tried to do that when I... unfortunately spoke with him.”

“Oh,” understanding dawned on his face, “So, you told him this is a private matter?”

“No.” Mercy rolled up her sleeves to cut the bread sticks, “I just told him we need to discuss the property management on the house my parents left us.”

A twinge of pain struck Liam. Maison Enigme, was a beautiful countryside house outside of Reims. Mercy’s parents gave the house and all its belongings to their only daughter and him as a wedding gift. Sadly, they never had a chance to live there and now it was too late to go back.

“I’m sorry.” Liam spoke solemnly as he set his empty glass on the tray that held the decanter. He then moved to his couch to sit down, even though his gaze never left the woman.

“Well, I visited the house a few months ago, the vineyard is overgrown so I pruned as much as I could, and gathered some of the grapes. Here, this is from one of the last bottles in the cellar.” She expertly poured the wine in the crystal stemmed glasses that were given to them as a wedding present, and handed him half a glass of red wine and set a dish of pasta down on the coffee table.

“Thanks,” he gingerly held the glass, swirled the contents, inhaled the sweet yet bitter scent, and took a sip.

Mercy grabbed her own glass and plate and sat down across from him. “Nice diorama.” She pointed to his screen as she ate slowly.

It was a web design that held detailed information on all the paintings that had been stolen and returned, the cards that were left at the scene were under the corresponding art. All of them pointed to a lone shadowed head and shoulders of a mysterious person.

“I started following the investigation after the third painting was stolen. though, the chief didn't call until today.”

 “Why did he wait?” Mercy asked before taking a sip of the red substance.

“Because, I'm the best det... ex-detective to the police service.”

Meryl's lips pursed together, but did not say anything.

“I can’t find it.” Liam suddenly stated as he took a bite of his food; it was delicious and temporarily calmed his nerves.

When Mercy only looked at him in confusion, he continued, “The connection. Everything has a connection; thefts, murders… reasons for marriage.” He shifted uncomfortably, and continued before Mercy could say anything. “Everything has a connection, except for this. the Fox Thief is all over the place with the thefts and taunts...”

“Of all my years knowing you, I’ve never seen you falter while trying to find something.” Mercy stood up and enlarged all the paintings on the screen. “Forget the thief; you are trying to fit her into the story. Look at the paintings.”

“How did you know the thief was a woman?” Liam gazed at her as he drank more of the wine.

She paused, her expression blank as she stared at the screen, “Because, I too have been following the case. Through the media.”

This was something Liam did not like; he could tell when she was not being truthful, but it was something she always did, especially to him; it's one of the reasons their marriage fell apart. And, while it irked him, he loved guessing what she was thinking about, he loved her.

Unable to get more readings from her, Liam complied and stood next to her and went along with her suggestion. “A Winter Run,” he pointed to the first painting, it was a sunny winter scene with two children making a snowman in the countryside.

“The Spring bearer's Song.” He pointed to the second painting; this had a young woman with flaming red hair playing the flute in a forest clearing. Small orbs of light surrounded her in a pattern.

Liam pressed the third painting stolen, “Dreamer: Night in Summer” a beach scene with wild bluish green waves that flowed under a darkening sky that depicted a starry night and clouds that formed ships and sea life.

In “Young Autumn”, a couple sat in the park under a red and orange tree while some leaves fell with grace.

“And last is Snow,” Mercy said, as she gazed at the wild winter painting. She turned away, as if she was afraid the painting would suck out her soul.

“What happened to your arm?” Liam looked at Mercy’s outstretched limb.

Before she could hide it, Liam grasped her wrist and slowly lifted her sleeve to reveal a large blood red wound that went from her inner elbow to her wrist. It looked like a spiky “P” on top of a spiky “R.”

“What is this?” his fingers gently stroked the wound.

“It’s nothing,” Mercy hastened to pull her arm from his grip.

Before she could pull away however, Liam's fingers wrapped tightly around both of her wrists; he held her close and asked in barely more than a hoarse whisper, “Did you do this? Was it because of me?”

“No!” the woman could not bear to look at his quizzically sharp eyes, “Liam, these happened because I was working on something only I could do. I am not a masochist. Please release me.”

Finally, against his will, he let her go. Memories of their history ran dangerously through their minds; their thoughts went back to the first time they kissed. They were casually dating back then, and they decided to see New Years at Times Square. 

When that ball dropped, they were stunned that they had kissed each other, and yet, they knew they would not want to kiss anyone else.

 

“I need to leave,” Mercy gave a shaky laugh as she grabbed her purse and headed towards the door.

She was positive she could slow him down, but this night was not in her favor and she needed to rid herself of that memory, and of him.

“Wait,” Liam stopped her just before her hand was on the doorknob. “Mercy, I’m sorry. Please, I need your help. I can’t do this without you.”

Mercy turned to face him, but did not expect him to be so close; she could feel his body heat as he neared her. He stretched his arms on either side of the wall to prevent her from leaving.

With a false smile, she stated solemnly, “You can figure it out, whether or not I am in the picture.”

That was not enough for him, he only just realized what she had been through; the urge to comfort her filled his mind.

He needed her.

Slowly, he leaned towards her and gently placed his hand on her flushed cheek.

Mercy did not expect this kind of admiration; she felt her knees buckle weakly. Her heart hammered against her chest and pulsed throughout her slim figure. Mercy felt slow, tempting excitement as Liam wrapped his arm around her waist. He drew her in, until space no longer separated them. As she closed her eyes, Mercy felt his breath near her neck and his own heart pounded rapidly in his toned torso.

In a mere, longing whisper, Mercy joked, “I suppose this is the climatic part of our passing?”

Half delirious with her presence, Liam felt her warm figure quiver with excitement against him, her seductive full lips just barely brushed against his.

Just as he was about to risk it all, to kiss the lips he had not felt in three long years, to feel the supple figure he longed to have, Liam whispered, “Climatic.”

Something foreign stirred within his mind; he just barely touched her warm lips with his when something struck him. “Climate… Weather. Everything has a connection.”

“I’m sorry?” Mercy opened her eyes to see Liam’s pounding warmth leave her; she felt empty and cold as if she had been abandoned.

He stepped away from her and studied the paintings again, his mind utterly focused on the paintings.

“Look, the connection, the pattern. It all fits. Winter, Spring, Summer, Fall, Winter. That means the next painting will have something to do with Spring.”

Mercy stared downheartedly at the jubilant man before her; this was a part of the reason why she couldn’t stand the man. He felt more adrenaline when he was on a case than when he was with her.

“I just need to find the paintings that have to do with Spring and I’ll… what’s wrong?” Liam stopped in his tracks as he noticed her pained features gaze at him.

“Nothing,” Mercy’s voice was higher than normal, tears swelled but she turned and brushed them away. “Good luck, Liam.”

Wondering what he had done, Liam watched Mercy leave without saying another word.

 

********

 

Running as fast as she could, Mercy made it to the downstairs hallway until she lost her balance. Before she could trip, however, her hands magically grasped a railing she was sure was not there before.

Breathing heavily, Mercy buried the butterflies that burned in her gut like a raging inferno.

Every thought of Liam pounded in her head like an unbreakable curse, Mercy had an urge to do something reckless, something to help her burn away the thoughts and wants she felt for the man who tortured her this way.

A buzzing noise reawakened her senses, with trembling hands she pulled her cell phone out of her bag.

It was a text from Liam.

Too calloused to even think about him, Mercy ignored the message and called the most recent number.

It only rung two times until a gruff male voice answered, “C’est Ange.”

“Ange, Je suis Mercy La Volpe. Je veux le détruire.” She stated, “I want to destroy it, and we are doing it my way. Find the other curses. I’ll be at the lair tonight.”

A chill ran up her spine as her hardened gaze fell on the scar that branded her as an alienated, irrational being.

She also knew the spiky “R” marked her for death.

The centuries old Anglo Saxon Runes were, after all, reversed. 

Author's Note

For those who are more fluent in French, please let me know if I am conjugating correctly.

and I invite everyone's feedback :D