Feast of the Dead (Mon Dieu Cthulhu! Book 2) by John Houlihan

Author:John Houlihan [Houlihan, John]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Jolly Big Publishing
Published: 2018-11-10T08:00:00+00:00

From his place of concealment, d'Bois watched his squadron depart until it had dwindled into no more than a faint column of dust rising into the thin, parched air. Despite the absolute necessity of remaining behind to put his plan into action, d'Bois still felt a sudden twang on the strings of 'is 'eart as his troopers disappeared off and were swallowed up by the vastness of that pitiless interior. Merde, was this simple foreboding or perhaps even a little jealousy about seeing his troopers placed under another man's command? The former guardsman was certainly going up in d'Bois' estimation, and he had already proved himself a more than worthy soldier — there was no doubt they would be safe in his vast and capable 'ands.

Alors d'Bois allowed a little time to pass, drinking the dregs of his cold breakfast café and observing the ruins of the monasterio from his hiding place. If he had hoped to discover unusual goings on or an 'int about the strange truth behind this terrible mystery, he was disappointed. Several buzzards glided lazily above on the thermal currents as the weak autumn sun began to strengthen, but there was little else, save the occasional rattle of a drowsy cicada and the gentle gust of a zephyr to disturb the quiet.

Perhaps d'Bois was mistaken in his suppositions? But then again perhaps he was not, for he soon saw what he sought, the glint of a mirrored surface as it caught and reflected the sun, bouncing around the foothills which surrounded the steep ascent to the ruins of St Cloud. There, and there again, so quick you might almost miss it, and then an answering flash from another distant 'ill. They were brief, vanishing almost too quickly for the eye to follow, but d'Bois' plan had worked exactly as he 'ad hoped. He tossed away the bitter dregs of his café and allowed himself a grim little smile.

Satisfied at last that those distant watchers would now be intent on following his carefully prepared decoy, d'Bois pulled Durand's shako onto his head, fastened his jacket with the collars up and trudged towards the 'ospital tents, affecting a limp, so that he might easily be mistaken for one of the walking wounded. Of course, he could not pass that way without looking in upon his men and while Marmont remained unconscious, still sedated and recovering from his 'orrible wounds, Dupont was up and about and ready to converse, although a coarse jest erupted from his lips before he fully appreciated the true identity of his visitor.

'Pardon, chef! I did not recognise you for a moment in Durand's rags.'

'Quietly Dupont,' d'Bois hissed, 'address me as you would a fellow trooper and consider me such, in case any over'ear.'

'Oui che... pardon... Durand, good of you to drop by mon ami.'

'Mon plaisir, mon brave, how are you? How is Marmont?'

'I am well and he is quiet, since Monsieur le Docteur attended to him.' We both contemplated the inert form which lay immobile and 'elpless upon the bed.

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