Antichrist.’
It was as if she had just reached inside Abi’s skull and plucked out his thoughts with a pair of pliers. He felt as if he had been blindsided by a lorry. Abi gave a vehement shake of the head. ‘No. That’s impossible. Athame told me every word that Sabir said both inside and outside that Mexican sweat-bath. Sabir confirmed that Yola Dufontaine was the mother of the Second Coming. Yes. But at no time did he reveal the identity of the Third Antichrist. I would have told you immediately.’
‘But it wasn’t to Athame that he revealed it.’
Abi glanced at the other three. They were watching the Countess intently. It was as if everything were being decided in that room. Everybody’s fate.
Yes. That’s what this is, Abi thought to himself. The old crone is dooming us all. She wants a Götter-dämmerung. Not content with overseeing the death of nine of her children, she’s busy piling up the tinder beneath the remaining four. And when she’s got it just so, she’s going to set light to the whole damned shooting match with one final flourish of her torch.
Well, I’m not about to allow myself to be immolated quite so easily. If she wants to act like Brünnhilde, good luck to her. I’ll simply find a way to slide out from underneath the shit-fall.
‘To whom did he reveal it, then?’
‘To whom do you think, Abiger? Sabir revealed it to Lamia the afternoon they shared a hotel bedroom. The same afternoon he stole her virginity.’ The Countess’s voice thickened.
The truth hit Abi like a slap in the face. Never before had he been able to get a handle on the Countess and Lamia’s ambiguous relationship. Now he knew for a racing certainty.
The Countess had been in love with her own adopted daughter. It was as clear as day. But her love hadn’t been reciprocated. And finally Lamia had cheated on her mother with Adam Sabir, the person the Countess hated most in the world – and a man, to boot. It was irrelevant that Lamia had not betrayed the Countess in terms of the Corpus. The emotional betrayal had been the thing.
Abi glanced at Madame Mastigou. The woman’s face was gaunt but triumphant. Well. That figured.
‘Why would he do that?’ Abi didn’t fully understand his own motives. He only knew that he needed to see his mother squirm.
‘Why do you think? Why are men susceptible to women? Why do they talk in bed and say things that they would never normally dream of saying when they are in their right minds? Because they are weak, that’s why. Look at you. You are a prime example. You’ve nearly managed to bring our entire family down with your litany of botched decisions.’
Abi shrugged. What did he care anymore? He was home free. Madame, his mother, still needed him or she would have ordered him killed on the spot earlier that morning. ‘That’s predictable. But it’s not fair. If you had trusted me with the fact that Lamia was working for you, I would have acted differently from the start. You caused this yourself. Because you can’t bring yourself to trust those you should. And because you trust those you shouldn’t.’ Abi only half understood what was driving him to say these things. As a rule he never talked back to Madame, his mother. But a feeling of outraged virtue now suffused him – possibly triggered by his frustration at not having brought off the financial coup of the century by murdering the she-viper in her bed.
‘How dare you speak like that to me.’
Milouins, who had been patrolling the doorway like a nightclub bouncer, took a pace forward in response to his mistress’s tone.
Abi knew he was treading a fine line. If his mother decided, on a whim, that she wanted him dead, he would to all intents and purposes have called his fate down onto his own head. As far as the authorities were concerned, he was in Boston, not in France. Nobody would look for the body of the non-existent Pierre Blanc out here on the peninsula. And, clearly, you couldn’t be charged
It was as if she had just reached inside Abi’s skull and plucked out his thoughts with a pair of pliers. He felt as if he had been blindsided by a lorry. Abi gave a vehement shake of the head. ‘No. That’s impossible. Athame told me every word that Sabir said both inside and outside that Mexican sweat-bath. Sabir confirmed that Yola Dufontaine was the mother of the Second Coming. Yes. But at no time did he reveal the identity of the Third Antichrist. I would have told you immediately.’
‘But it wasn’t to Athame that he revealed it.’
Abi glanced at the other three. They were watching the Countess intently. It was as if everything were being decided in that room. Everybody’s fate.
Yes. That’s what this is, Abi thought to himself. The old crone is dooming us all. She wants a Götter-dämmerung. Not content with overseeing the death of nine of her children, she’s busy piling up the tinder beneath the remaining four. And when she’s got it just so, she’s going to set light to the whole damned shooting match with one final flourish of her torch.
Well, I’m not about to allow myself to be immolated quite so easily. If she wants to act like Brünnhilde, good luck to her. I’ll simply find a way to slide out from underneath the shit-fall.
‘To whom did he reveal it, then?’
‘To whom do you think, Abiger? Sabir revealed it to Lamia the afternoon they shared a hotel bedroom. The same afternoon he stole her virginity.’ The Countess’s voice thickened.
The truth hit Abi like a slap in the face. Never before had he been able to get a handle on the Countess and Lamia’s ambiguous relationship. Now he knew for a racing certainty.
The Countess had been in love with her own adopted daughter. It was as clear as day. But her love hadn’t been reciprocated. And finally Lamia had cheated on her mother with Adam Sabir, the person the Countess hated most in the world – and a man, to boot. It was irrelevant that Lamia had not betrayed the Countess in terms of the Corpus. The emotional betrayal had been the thing.
Abi glanced at Madame Mastigou. The woman’s face was gaunt but triumphant. Well. That figured.
‘Why would he do that?’ Abi didn’t fully understand his own motives. He only knew that he needed to see his mother squirm.
‘Why do you think? Why are men susceptible to women? Why do they talk in bed and say things that they would never normally dream of saying when they are in their right minds? Because they are weak, that’s why. Look at you. You are a prime example. You’ve nearly managed to bring our entire family down with your litany of botched decisions.’
Abi shrugged. What did he care anymore? He was home free. Madame, his mother, still needed him or she would have ordered him killed on the spot earlier that morning. ‘That’s predictable. But it’s not fair. If you had trusted me with the fact that Lamia was working for you, I would have acted differently from the start. You caused this yourself. Because you can’t bring yourself to trust those you should. And because you trust those you shouldn’t.’ Abi only half understood what was driving him to say these things. As a rule he never talked back to Madame, his mother. But a feeling of outraged virtue now suffused him – possibly triggered by his frustration at not having brought off the financial coup of the century by murdering the she-viper in her bed.
‘How dare you speak like that to me.’
Milouins, who had been patrolling the doorway like a nightclub bouncer, took a pace forward in response to his mistress’s tone.
Abi knew he was treading a fine line. If his mother decided, on a whim, that she wanted him dead, he would to all intents and purposes have called his fate down onto his own head. As far as the authorities were concerned, he was in Boston, not in France. Nobody would look for the body of the non-existent Pierre Blanc out here on the peninsula. And, clearly, you couldn’t be charged
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