A Monster's Coming of Age Story by G. D. Falksen

Author:G. D. Falksen
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: vampires, fantasy, vampire, twilight, undead
ISBN: 9781434447449
Publisher: Wildside Press LLC
Published: 2013-01-07T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eighteen

Babette fled west from Sedan. She followed the road but stayed off it to avoid notice. She passed Glaire, about a mile away from Sedan, and continued on to the Meuse. She paused on the shore and took stock of her situation. Across the river and to the south were German soldiers. There would be no escape in either direction.

The north was no better. The river merely looped around and continued back toward Sedan. And besides, that way lay either the French, who would by now be hunting Alfonse’s murderer, or more Germans who had dislodged the French.

Perhaps if she swam downstream, she could bypass the soldiers on both sides and make her escape…

Babette took off her boots, securing them around her neck, plunged into the cold water, and made her way south. She silently thanked God that Grandfather had taught her how to swim as a child. Like him she loved the water, so long as it was not the sea.

Finally, near where the river bent west toward Donchery, she came ashore. She lay on the bank for a few minutes to catch her breath. She was astounded by her good fortune so far, but she would eventually be found by someone. She toyed with the idea of hiding until nightfall, but that would be hours, and the longer she waited the greater the chance of being caught.

She put on her wet boots, stood, and turned south, intending to make a run past the German lines. Instead of open country, she saw a pair of men on horseback watching her from a dozen or so feet away. Babette gasped and dropped to the ground, hoping that they had not seen her.

“This will not help, you know,” Korbinian said from where he lay on the grass beside her. “They must have seen you.”

“Shhh!” Babette hissed.

“They can’t hear me,” Korbinian reminded her. He stood up and waved to the men, neither of whom reacted. Turning back to Babette, he said, “They can’t even see me.”

“I know,” Babette said.

“And they are coming this way. Yes, they have seen you. No point in pretending.”

Korbinian extended his hand and helped Babette to her feet. Babette brushed herself off and waited while the two riders approached.

One was dressed in a leather riding coat that he wore closed over what appeared to be civilian clothes. His hair was dark, he wore a neatly trimmed moustache, and he bore a rifle in a side scabbard by his saddle. The second rider wore black: clothes, gloves, cloak and hat, and a voluminous black veil that covered his face.

The first rider called out to Babette in French. His voice was crisp and strong, though he spoke with a strong accent that Babette could not place.

“You there, approach please. Who are you, and how do you come to be swimming in a river at such a time as this?”

Babette cleared her throat and said:

“I am Hercule Sauvage. Doctor Hercule Sauvage. And you? This is the middle of a war.”

“You did not answer my second question,” the rider said.

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