Bellwether

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> Bellwether Chapter Twenty Two
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> Disclaimers Apply
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> A/N Goddess Foxfeather, Queen of Mad Plotbunnies, BUSIEST WOMAN ALIVE ™, Prophetic Muse, Hamster Witch and Uberbeta… Now I’m off on a poi kick, lol. ;) InterNutter, TC, Maxwell Pink, Dracena and Greywolf are loverly and wondermous for archiving/hosting. J ProPhile: I think I have a few more in that series… Morgan: *shimmystalk * Readers/Reviewers: Thank you so much for reading and reviewing as you can! The YSI uploads will be posted tonight.
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> Remy had not chewed his thumbnail since he was six years old and Lucien had caught him, scolding him soundly on how a gentle does and does not purport himself in public and the importance of appearances in all things. At that particular moment, however, waiting in the dark and listening to the approaching footsteps, he did not care about Lucien’s instruction. He nibbled his thumbnail, ignoring the appalled Gallic voice rumbling in his thoughts. Do this, he ordered himself, and you will find Belle. Do this and you will be free from any and all obligations to the Guild and League. He straightened, stuffing his hands inelegantly into his coat pockets, as the steps drew to a halt. “M’sieur Essex,” he murmured, bowing his head quickly in an old fashioned show of courtesy. “Pardon… Professeur Essex,” he amended, smiling wryly.
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> “Mister LeBeau,” Essex replied in hind, mirroring Remy’s gesture of greeting. “My apologies for being late; I had some business to take care of and I’m afraid it is quite tediously dragging it’s figurative feet.” He smiled tightly and gestured towards the far, dark end of the street. “Shall we take a turn about the neighborhood?”
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> The Cajun hesitated for the briefest moment before nodding his assent. “Apres vous,” he said genially, waving a hand in the direction Essex had indicated. The Englishman did not falter, turning smoothly and setting steady but sedate pace for their stroll. Remy kept pace, shortening his stride to stay even with Essex. Silence reigned, save for the ring of their footsteps on the old sidewalks, echoing wetly off of the overhanging shop awnings. The part of town that had been chosen for their meeting had changed very little since the Depression, seeing better times fiscally but not aesthetically. Remy did not hate it but it made him feel exposed and awkward, missing the shabby genteel of his hometown. “Essex…”
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> “We are two gentlemen, Mister LeBeau, and as such I feel that word games and subtleties are wasted on our good sense. I may speak freely, may I not?” He glanced aside at Remy and waited for the other man’s nod of agreement. “I have the information you seek in regards to the whereabouts of your former affianced. Belladonna is being held by the Morlocks. Have you heard of the Morlocks? Of course, how silly… you’ve heard of them.”
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> Remy’s mouth tightened into a thin line of distaste. Not for the Morlocks, but for the smooth, quick way that Essex spoke. It was the trait of a liar, the trait of a man who had to speak fast and be gone before anyone discovered his perfidy. “The Morlocks always been peaceful far as I know,” he murmured, tilting his face up towards the mist that began falling. “Annoyin’, some of ‘em, mais not violent. Ain’t ever been the sort to kidnap a gal…” He felt rather than saw Essex tense beside him, the older man’s pace slowing for a moment before regaining his former gait.
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> “There’s been a faction in the group. A mutant named Marrow has split and formed her own…army.” He smiled tightly, sadly. In the broadest sense of the word, Marrow’s handful of fallen angels could be considered an army. “The majority of the Morlocks remain under the leadership of Callisto. They are benign. Marrow’s gang, however, is violent. Just this week…” He paused and shook his head, sighing. “It’s not fit for polite company but we are of a class where I can say this freely, knowing you will understand it is not my intent to shock or dismay. Marrow and her group are responsible for the deaths of over a dozen Morlock juveniles and infirm.” And it was her fault, he crowed inwardly. She asked for his help and reneged on her side of the bargain…
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> Remy stopped in his tracks, tilting his head to one side like a curious bird. “Marrow? I’ve met her a time or two an’ she seemed angry, not murd’rous.” He frowned. Something stank. “So why you tellin’ me dis? What’s it gotta do wit me getting’ Belle?” Folding his arms over his chest, he felt the comforting thump of his collapsed bo against his thigh. He was safe, he knew, always prepared.
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> “The only way to get Belle is to get through the renegade Morlocks. I can help you but I’m afraid my help will only extend to providing you with the means. I cannot execute this myself. If you do this for me, I will see to it that Belle is unharmed in the process.” He smiled encouragingly at Remy and laid a bold hand on the younger man’s arm. “You will be helping the entire Morlock race as well…”
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> “Morlocks,” Remy said tightly, “ain’t a different race. We all human.” He shook off Essex’s hand but did not move. “Merde… Fine. When?”
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> “A week from today. It will take me that long to assemble the necessary items. Their main tunnel is easy enough to reach… we go there at sundown.” Essex nodded firmly, his lips pressing into a thin line of concern. He looked, for all the world, like a man on business, a man in a hurry without a thought other than that of doing what must be done. “I’ll be in contact.”
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> Remy nodded and turned away, walking quickly back the way he came. He felt Essex’s eyes on him but he did not turn back. He had a week to decide, a week to determine if this would save him or damn him. “Merde,” he repeated, turning down a narrow side street, away from Essex’s gaze. He’d do what he could in that week, try to find another way. If he could not, then he’d work for Essex.