Nazari dictated and Father Bousquet copied the list into his computer. When he was finished he turned around again. “I’ll show this to Miriam in the morning. Are you still at the Vaugeois house?”

“Yes.”

“I can find you there in that case. Perhaps tomorrow morning then.”

“I hope so.”

“So do I.”

We came downstairs with Father Bousquet. As we were leaving, Bousquet began saying grace. The whole extended family chimed in, like a chorus.

Nazari closed the door behind us, but the invocation was still audible as we crossed the yard. It sounded kind of haunting and ghostly in French.

Aide-moi à Te bénir,

et pour celle qui me déplaît

à la manger avec le sourire!

Seigneur, merci pour tous tes bienfaits

et garde ce monde dans Ta paix!

Amen! Merci! Alléluia!

I could hear the kids' voices real loud, really getting into it. I glanced at Nazari, who was looking at me. I figured the grace sounded ghostly because of the storm that we were facing. A warm wind had risen. The leaves were fluttering and the chickens were calm. I felt thrilled and happy.

I looked straight at her and said, “Bring it on.”

Her eyes widened in surprise. She said, “You’re crazy.”

I nodded at her. “I can go into berserker mode.”

She was momentarily confused. She had never before been confronted with the realities of impending extreme violence, but I could tell that she was learning, and liking it. She was summoning her warrior spirit. Her eyes met mine. Something sharp and fierce was concentrating in her; she was going through a baptism of fire.

I thought she was beautiful. We kissed in the car for a while, before heading back to the Vaugeois house.

Chapter Forty-Eight

The gatekeeper’s house was up on the right. The dark green Renault was neatly backed into its spot, so I figured Daniel would be in.

I wanted to talk to the gardener. Nazari let me out, then continued up the drive and parked. The sky was low and grey, threatening to rain. Leaves were rustling in the trees and a small black bird flitted over the vegetable garden. I walked over to the cottage door and knocked. It was a nice little spot. Tucked into the trees. I looked around the building. There were exterior lights hung where the rafters stuck out from the walls. They looked clean.

The door opened. Daniel wore thick Scandinavian socks in black and white wool. He saw me looking at them. “Christmas present last year.”

It was warm out. I couldn’t imagine wearing wool Christmas socks. I shrugged, pointed at the lights. “These work?”

He came out holding a tea cup. Maybe he’d been watching television or something. He looked up at the lights hung on the outside of the cottage. “Yes. They work.” He ducked in behind the door and flicked them on and off.