Gnomon by Luchia Dertien

Author:Luchia Dertien [Dertien, Luchia]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: DSP Publications
Published: 2015-08-14T00:00:00+00:00

THE ALARM goes off at barely five in the morning, and this whole “sleeping with Emile” thing is much more difficult than Renaire had thought because the man makes a disgruntled noise and his hold on Renaire tightens even more than before.

“Let me turn the alarm off,” he says, and it takes a good thirty seconds for Delaurier to understand the logic of turning the alarm off means the noise goes away, let alone human speech, and finally release him. It’s not like Renaire actually wants to go, but he definitely needs to. Delaurier can barely raise his head off the pillow, let alone ask Renaire where he’s going, so he politely leaves a note for when Delaurier is capable of rational thought.

Dawn meeting with Interpol, calm down, Mathieu knows if I’m ok is probably not something that he’ll be happy to see when he wakes up, but Renaire doesn’t have time to write anything gentle.

Paris is as close to silent as it ever gets at this time of day, with the gray light of near morning making everything seem both cold and soft. The metro’s running, and Renaire doesn’t hesitate to hop on. Even at five thirty in the morning, it’s stiflingly hot on the train, but the streets themselves are crisp and dim.

The Arènes de Lutèce appears to be nothing more than a vegetation-covered hill upon approach, and Renaire can already see the sky turning a pale fuchsia. He yawns his way up the tight path and doesn’t light a cigarette no matter how badly he needs to calm down. He brought his flask (refilled—one of the essential stops before leaving the apartment this morning) but that he definitely isn’t touching. By the time he reaches the top of the slope and is looking down into the ancient Roman amphitheater, the sun is rising, and he’s casting a long, deep shadow across the terraces.

Celine is already waiting for him, which he knows because there’s a blonde woman seated at the very front row wearing a truly ridiculous bonnet, along with her fashion-forward light gray suit. Renaire wishes he didn’t find it so endearing. She smiles at him and waves like he’s an old friend instead of someone affiliated with the group she’s trying to take down.

Renaire can’t help but grin and waves back before heading down the stone steps. By the time he reaches her, she’s pulled two cups of coffee out of a tray she had resting on the ground and arrayed packets of cream and sugar and cocoa next to his cup.

“At least you don’t know how I take my coffee,” Renaire says, and Celine cheerily shakes his hand. “Has anyone told you you’re terrifyingly happy in the morning?”

“My entire department,” Celine confesses. “It’s wonderful to meet you. Are you armed?”

“Of course I am,” Renaire says, and sits down to fix his coffee—cream and cocoa, since she’s offered it. She follows his example soon after, although apparently she takes her coffee black. There’s no hesitation, so Renaire doesn’t think she’s laced the coffee with anything.

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