The Lucas Letters: Despatch Four
Duty yields to forbidden desire in the personal communications of drac physician Lucas Rouseau.
The Lucas Letters are best read in order
Find the previous despatches here
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The Lucas Letters: Despatch Four
LUCAS ROUSEAU: AMAZON’S RECOMMENDED TITLES FOR YOU
Folkloric Fae (A Prequel Novella to the Folkloric Series) by Karenza Grant
A detailed account of Camille Amiel’s perilous Keeper testing at the Chateau de la Lune. Perfect for reading before or at any time throughout the Folkloric series, it is a necessary accompaniment to the events that take place at the time of The Lucas Letters.
Also available free by signing up to the author’s newsletter here
Appartement 5, 3ème étage
14 Avenue de Camoëns
75116 Paris
France
3rd February
Lucas,
I am writing in an official capacity as head of the assembly to convey our heartfelt congratulations that Camille Amiel was successful in her Keeper trial. In fact, considering the gruelling tasks you set that would’ve tested the most competent fae warrior, myself and the assembly are extremely pleased with the outcome. Camille has more than proved herself.
Please commence your relocation to Tarascon without delay, for Keepers are sorely needed there. Once you are moved, we will make provision for Camille to be given verity, so she becomes aware of the hidden world as soon as possible. She will require time to acclimatise before she is formally offered the position of Keeper and your partner.
Belomar Rei
High Elf King, Charmant
SLAUGHTER: DO NOT SEND
9th February
My dearest Belomar,
It is done.
I cannot believe it.
I scrape my hands through my dishevelled hair, seeing the pitchy darkness in my eyes reflected just a little in the glass as another day dawns late. I cannot eat the croissant sitting on my desk. I have no appetite for it. For blood, perhaps. That would be satisfying. The pleasure of the kill, vitality seeping into me as I fed.
How I need something satisfying after Camille’s testing.
For she passed every devious, punishing trial that the Chateau de la Lune could extract from her subconscious—every trial I augmented, each as diabolical as possible. I’d walked a thin line, ensuring they were quite so extreme, for the testing was hardly fair at all and La Vieille’s threads of consequence might have wound tightly about my neck for it.
Yet still, Camille succeeded.
It was more than a pleasure to meet her for the first time in the uppermost tower of the chateau, this woman who drew me utterly. The moment was indescribable. She was both attracted to me and repelled, her pheromones a cacophony as she was drawn closer, her pulse responding to my proximity, her instincts screaming she was in a tower with a killer.
The heart knows what I truly am.
And her scent. There it was again. Honeysuckle. Couteto. There is something in it. Something I cannot name. It drove me wild, though I forced myself not to show it.
I was tempted to use my incubus influence on her, more tempted than I’ve ever been to will a creature to me, to feel her skin under my touch, to brush my fingers over her fluttering pulse, to taste her, to savour her in so many ways. It took all my might to resist, for that is not me. I will not use such treacherous means to gain the proximity of another.
Never. I have sworn it.
Fickleturn did an acceptable job of overseeing the trials. The fact that Camille managed to work around her own nightmares to target him instead showed extreme strength of character.
There was an unforeseen setback in the form of one of Näis’s servants showing up and aiding Camille. The water nymph has had it in for me for years since I jilted her daughter. She must have heard of Camille’s trial and my intention for her to fail, no doubt from Fickleturn whose mouth is a thing of legend, especially if the price for information is right. But seeing how Camille handled the rest of the obstacles, I have a feeling that if she had not received assistance, she would’ve overcome anyway.
She is intelligent, resourceful, utterly wilful.
And… I am speechless… dumbfounded…
So much so that it has taken me more than a week to arrive at the point of writing, of processing through my pen. A week in which I worked, I paced, I swam in the Seine, I stared for hours at the fucking wall, my disbelief a physical thing chaining me, not allowing me to move on, the events replaying over and again.
All the while Slaughter recounted every single detail at the chateau repeatedly to the small band of Men who generally reside in my apartment and are never far away. Even now, he is at it.
‘Did you see her, Blather?’ His eyes sparkle and his hand-sewn skin jerkin and trousers ruck up as he gestures wildly, barely reaching halfway to the table under which he’s camped. ‘The boss set up the most devious of traps. I told him he was right cruel to do that to anyone, let alone the woman who might become his partner. But no, he wouldn’t be told. And then she went straight for Fickleturn’s weak spot. You should have seen her.’ His grin was so wide it almost split his face. ‘And you know what? She used it against the boss. She got him back.’
The lot of them break out in laughter.
Blather is holding his belly, he’s howling so much. ‘The surprise on his face when she got Fickleturn to tie him up,’ he manages.
My fingers tighten around my quill at that. For a moment, she’d had me.
‘Serves the gov right for putting her through hell.’ Slaughter shakes his head. ‘Such a nice girl, she is.’
I roar at them all, then, the lot of them launching into the air and laughing once more.
For heaven’s sake, if they want to go over it again, why the hell do they have to do it near me? I will have their hides for it if they don’t let up soon.
Damn Slaughter and the lot of them for bringing that moment back.
All I could think of, then and for days after, was what part of her augmented me and what part of me augmented her, as is the way with Keeper partnerships. They form the closest of platonic bonds. There are traits in both that complement the other in the most striking of ways. I laugh, staring out at the grey street beyond the windowpane. It’s incomprehensible that the woman who draws me so is also my Keeper match. There are never amorous partnerships, for then the bond is too intense to bear.
And since the day of her achievement, the snow has melted all over France, as if it were not able to withstand her warmth, her fire, her accomplishment.
She called me sick, loathsome, despicable, a beast for pitting her against such foe. She is more right than she knows. I am all those things and more. I am a nightmare worse than any she could’ve faced in the chateau. She went for my mask. She was intrigued, wanted to know who hid beneath, tormenting her so. I promised to show her exactly what I am.
She will see.
Her victory confirms it. Despite all my efforts, she is to be my partner.
Taking up the role of Keeper is too important for me to refuse. Too essential to Fae. She has passed the testing, and there is not one single thing I can do about it. To come up against it would be to come up against fate itself.
Though I have to admit, I will be glad to return to Tarascon. I have always felt at home there.
And all I can think to do is to harden myself against Camille, against everything that draws me. I will steel my soul. I will refuse to think of her scent, her curves, her strength.
Complete impartiality is required. I will quash my physical responses, never act upon them. I have spent my life tempering myself. It will be but little more effort.
She will not defeat me. The assembly and La Vieille will have their platonic partnership.
I will make preparations for my relocation immediately.
SLAUGHTER: SEND THIS ONE
Belomar Rei, High Elf King, Charmant
By the hand of Slaughter
11th February
Belomar,
I have to admit, I did not think Camille Amiel would pass the testing. But resigned to the outcome, I’ve already begun my relocation. I expect to take up my role in Tarascon on May 1st. Do not make arrangements for Camille’s introduction to the hidden world. The administering of verity and the transition are fraught with complications. It makes sense that, with my medical training, I oversee the transition.
Lucas
Status: SENT
To: FredericNoir@MedecinsSansFrontieres.fr
From: LucasRouseau@MedecinsSansFrontieres.fr
Subject: My resignation
Date: 11th February
Dearest Frederic,
We have discussed the likelihood of my resignation for some months now. I’m writing to convey that it is time for me to move on to other pastures. Working with Doctors Without Borders has been an honour, not only in Sudan but more recently in our work together with refugees in Paris. I will miss the camaraderie greatly, as well as the numerous patients I’ve had the privilege to assist.
I’ve taken a small practice in Tarascon-sur-Ariège in the foothills of the Pyrenees Mountains and will be the sole doctor there. It is certainly a change of pace, but one I welcome. I’m due to take my position on May 1st, so I’m available to work until shortly before then.
With much appreciation for all you and the organisation do, and particularly for the Paris team.
Best,
Lucas Rouseau
Status: SENT
To: HectorFournier@CabinetMedicalTarascon.fr
From: LucasRouseau@gmail.fr
Subject: Practice transferral
Date: 11th February
Dear Hector,
The matters delaying me have now resolved. The documents for the transfer of your practice into my hands are signed. They will be with you in the morning’s post, and the financial side will be settled imminently. I look forward to relocating and my couple of weeks’ induction at the beginning of May. Working together briefly will be a privilege as well as the ideal opportunity to become acquainted with the townsfolk.
Best,
Lucas
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