Page 28 of All Saints Day (Lucifer and the Saints #2)

Cazimer

W hen I wake up to the smell of bacon, coffee, and toast in a big beam of sunshine, I’m almost convinced I’m still dreaming.

It was a little over a week of traveling by boat, stolen car, and even a singular pontoon plane to touch down on a glassy lake in rural Saskatchewan.

The five of us bonded Saints along with Frank, now our hostage, are held up in a pair of yurts one of Quentin’s old CIs kept for lying low.

Our pack has settled into the larger of the two minimalist lodgings, opting to keep Frank imprisoned and heavily sedated in the other with one of us on watch.

The first order of business has been nursing Louise back to health. Even though it had been a fraught few days on the road, after several days of feeding and re-hydrating, she regained enough physical strength to sit, speak, and walk on her own.

The emotional wounds, the psychic damage… that will take much longer to heal.

She can’t manage to sleep without nightmares. Even when Sébastien and Quentin—the two biggest, meatiest Saints—bracket her in bed or the back of the van, she wakes screaming and crying most nights.

Luckily, as soon as she wakes to our arms wrapped around her—our soothing voices, scents, and purrs—she comes down from the panic before she completely comes undone. Still, it’s hard to watch—to feel her pain come screaming down the bond.

“Cazzy?” her voice calls weakly from beside me in the bed, and I brush the curtain of red hair away from her face to cup her porcelain cheek.

“Yes, Louise, I’m right here,” I purr soothingly. “Why don’t we get up and get you something to eat, hmm?” I kiss her forehead, breathing in her sweet-tart-spicy scent—basking in the relief of having her in my arms again.

“Can we lie here like this a little bit longer?” She nuzzles my hand, scooting from her place—head resting on her own pillow—to wriggle through the blankets until her body is against mine, wrapped safely in my arms.

“A little bit, but you really should try to eat something,” I coo, my fingers running along the outside of her arms—her muscle tone slowly returning, but a fraction of what it was before her imprisonment. “We gotta get your strength back up.”

Before she can argue, there’s the sound of curtain rings clacking together, the thick damask curtain that separates the large nesting bed from the rest of the yurt swishes out of the way to reveal Sébastien holding a large wooden tray, filled dishes of yogurt and fruit drizzled with golden honey, a plate of bacon and eggs, a small basket of hot whole grain rolls smeared with butter and jam, a tall glass of orange juice, and a ceramic mug of steaming coffee.

“You don’t have to go anywhere, chere Loulou,” he beams, a dishtowel thrown over his shoulder, Quentin standing just behind him.

Louise scans each of our faces, that edge of panic like a bright flash in those cinnamon eyes as she initially registers Dennis’ absence.

It broke my heart to watch her swallow down her trauma response—seeing the micro-expressions that let me know she was doing the mental math on where he was. Of course she knew that if the rest of us were here… then Dennis was with him.

The first few days we had her back with us—she flew into hysterics the moment she couldn’t get eyes on all of us. It was remarkable, really, after nearly a week she had this much of a grip on her trauma response. Another testament to the strength and will of Louise Penny.

Now, she just looks meaningfully at all of us—swallowing the silence as we all make the silent acknowledgment.

“Alright lazy bones, scoot over so we can get in,” Quentin breaks the quiet, shooing me from the edge of the nest so that he can clamber in and scoot to the far side, allowing Seb space to set down the tray and take his own seat along with us.

I help Louise up to sitting in the tangle of sheets and blankets.

Even though it was hardly cold enough for it, she wore a pair of my gray sweatpants, one of Sébastien's tank tops layered under a sweater from Q—her hands deftly combing through her wild red hair as she plaits the scarlet tresses in a long cord down her back before she reaches beneath her pillow to reveal one of Dennis’ omnipresent baseball caps.

“Everything looks and smells delicious, Seb,” Louise gives a tired smile as she threads her long braid through the back of the ball cap, pulling the brim down low over her eyes.

While it hurts all of our hearts to see her so drawn in on herself, hiding behind our scented items of clothing like a scared little girl—we’re all just so overwhelmed with joy to have her back that we temper our sadness enough to keep it from seeping across the bond.

“You’ll have to tell me how it all tastes,” Sébastien smiles devilishly, ducking in beneath the brim of her hat to peck a kiss on her lips before she takes her first bite.

There’s little more sound than forks and knives on dishes or the clinking of glassware for a few moments as we sit quietly, encouraging Louise to eat and drink what she can.

If it’s nice enough today, we can take her for another walk along the banks of the lake.

She had wanted to try going for a run, but had been humbled when she was winded from a half-mile stroll over sand and gravel.

It was Louise who finally spoke after she’d gotten down both eggs, a few rashers of bacon and half a big seeded roll.

“I know that you’re all handling me like I’m some kind of glass figurine.” She gave a weary chuckle. “But the truth is, we can’t wait until I’m one hundred percent to…” she trails off, dipping a spoon into her fruit and yogurt half-heartedly.

Sébastien nods gravely.

“Loulou is right, of course.” He runs a big bronze hand back through his dark hair ruefully. “Dottore Perla suspects that there is a reason they haven’t released the Zeitnot virus more widely yet.”

“If the Windmill didn’t have access to the Penny’s formulas, or any of the other project records—as it would seem—and neither Louise nor Frank spilled about our discoveries, it’s entirely possible that they’re still trying to find a cure,” Q adds, pinching the point of his chin pensively.

“And even if they did manage to gain access to the Penny’s research as we have, the Dottore and I are still working on developing a preventative.

” Sébastien’s impatience and frustration with himself and his inability to crack the code of a Zeitnot vaccine, bleeds through into his tone, his painfully rigid posture.

“As far as I can tell, they had no clue about the cure developed by my parents beyond the theory that I was somehow the keystone to the cure,” Louise speaks low and even, her spoon tracing elaborate swirls through dollops of creamy yogurt and juicy purple blueberries.

“They took lots of samples to work with, but from what I gathered—they weren’t having much luck. ”

“Compton had to know about his guys shooting Q with the dirty darts though, non? ” Seb queries as gently as possible.

“Not that I could tell.” She shakes her head.

“They didn’t seem surprised that Q hadn’t been infected—and they certainly hadn’t been worried about Frank or the rest of you running all over creation while being a-symptomatic carriers—” Louise shudders before adding, “—and I don’t think it was because they weren’t worried about a super-spreader situation—I think they genuinely had no idea. ”

“It just doesn’t make sense why Frank didn’t give them any information.” The words are out of my mouth before I can take them back, everyone’s eyes snapping to me.

Quentin shoots me an acid look, and I can actually see Seb bite his tongue to keep from escalating the situation by reaming me out for this outburst.

The four of us; Q, Seb, Dennis, and I had all agreed to allow Louise to direct the conversation when it came to her time in captivity—but I couldn’t help myself. I just can’t seem to wrap my head around how we’ve gotten here missing such a large part of the picture.

I’m about to fall on my sword in front of Louise—to apologize for asking, to redirect elsewhere, but her spoon makes a loud clattering noise and suddenly she’s kneeling—halfway to standing on the bed with a wild look in her eyes.

“That’s where we have to start,” she hisses, an accusatory finger pointing to nowhere hanging tremulously in the air as she continues on.

“I have an idea of how to make him talk too, but none of you are going to like it.” She wavers slightly, her eyes flickering to Q.

“Well, maybe one of you will, on a technicality.” She lets slip a grim laugh as she deflates back to sitting in the blankets.

“Already I do not like this,” Seb grumbles, taking the spoon from the bowl and bringing it to Louise’s mouth.

She takes the bite somewhat reluctantly, swallowing down the yogurt and fruit before continuing.

“While we have a place to be for a few days, you put Q and I in to work him over—bad cop and worse cop.” She thumbs at herself before pointing to Quentin.

“We get as much out of him as we can—and if we can’t squeeze what we want out of him the old-fashioned way, we dose him with suppressant melters and use that to break him,” she says coldly.

Seb, who had started shaking his head before Louise could finish—now shook his finger through the air.

“Ah-ah-ah! And what happens if that psycho touches off into rut and triggers a heat in you and Quentin?” he fires back.

“The rest of you have already bonded Dennis—I’m strong enough now, I can secure the mating bond between us too, and between Dennis, you, and Caz—Quentin and I can make it through.”

I roll my lips over my teeth to keep myself from immediately contradicting her.

While I would love nothing more than to help Louise and Quentin through their heats alongside Dennis and Seb—with Louise and Quentin with such demanding needs and only one alpha and Louise in her weakened state—I’m not sure just how easy it would be to make it through, out here in the remote wilderness.

Plus, there are other, more delicate matters…

Quentin looks leery, but he says nothing as he reaches for one of Louise’s pale hands to give it a squeeze.

“Loulou, there is still a very serious problem to consider here,” Sébastien says gently, patiently—bless him for having the spine since the rest of us don’t.

Her look of determination falters, and her eyes skitter to and fro before they snap back up to meet Sébastien’s.

I can tell by the look in her eyes—that hedge of the avenues of possibility are still open—of her own suspension of disbelief; that she knows what Sébastien will say next.

“If Frank goes into rut and triggers you and Tin-tin into a heat, with all those alpha body chemicals, and is deprived—he will be in just as much danger of touch starvation and rut sickness as you or Quentin would be for heat sickness going through a heat unattended.”

Louise grinds her teeth, fists balled on her knees as she sits cross-legged and incredibly still.

“Are you ready to absolve or condemn him so quickly— depending on how he behaves in the interrogation?” Seb presses, sweet but firm.

At this, Louise deflates, tears rolling steadily from her eyes.

“Oh, mon amour, Loulou,” Seb sighs, scooting the tray away from her—reaching out to pull Louise into his lap.

“I’m so sorry to have to ask these things of you.

” He pulls the ball cap from her head and presses it into her hands as he smooths a hand over her hair, tucking her head beneath his chin as he rocks Louise against himself.

After we get breakfast into her, and Q takes Louise for a brief constitutional, Seb taps into Frank duty so that I can bring Dennis up to speed on the morning’s conversation.

While he agrees that nothing about the situation is optimal—it is a very real possibility that this could be our best chance at extracting any information from Frank and all the reflections of his fractured psyche.

Even if it means that we’d be putting Frank’s life in the balance to get the information.

“Quentin and Louise try without the suppressant melters first, hell I’ll take a swing at him too—besides Frank, I’m probably the one who knew Mike the best.” He rolls his shoulders nervously as we stand on the beach, one of the toes of Dennis’ sneakers nudging at stones along the water’s edge to avoid looking directly at one another as we talk.

“If it doesn’t work—Louise and I bond before you potentially end up with two alphas in rut and a sigma and omega in heat.” He snorts a cold laugh, dropping into a low squat to pick up a wide, flat stone—turning it over in his palm.

“Both Lou and Q are close, and we don’t have high enough quality suppressants to guarantee they wouldn’t lapse while we’re on the lam,” I concede, still not liking the plan any more than I did earlier—so I make sure to add a caveat, “but Louise hasn’t even seen him in days and she seems ready to go to pieces at any moment.

Do you really think it’s a great idea to throw her in there tonight and hope for the best? ”

Dennis comes to standing before snapping the stone out of his hand to skip it a handful of times across the still water.

“Cazzy, I don’t think there’s a ‘best’ anywhere in sight,” he sighs, exhausted—before turning to face me. “But I don’t think we have much of a choice.”