Elysium by Jennifer Marie Brissett Read Free Book Online Page A

grateful. A woman quietly waving caught Adrianne’s notice. She was not very old, but her eyes were lined and red.
    “In memory of my son,” she said. “He died last week in the war.” Adrianne bowed and approached to receive her stick, but the woman held onto it a moment longer than was necessary. They played a minor tug-of-war with it.
    “Could you tell me that his death was worth it?” she asked.
    People looked to her with questions like this all the time. It made Adrianne uncomfortable. She didn’t know the answers, just what she was told to say.
    “Your son’s sacrifice was for a grateful nation.” It wasn’t enough. It was never enough. The eyes of the woman remained the same, maybe grew a bit darker. No comfort gained from this ritual. No solace. Adrianne climbed the marble stairs and tossed the stick in with the other faggots into the cauldron. The flames ate it hungrily.
    Beyond the rows of columns, Thomas and the other guards stood. He took this opportunity to approach Adrianne and whisper in her ear. Their eyes met for a moment, then she retreated back into the building. She went inside to the bathroom. The marble walls echoed her every move. Her head felt hot, so she splashed some water on her face and dried it clumsily with a towel.
    When she came back out with a bundle of sticks in her arms, Helen asked, “Hey, are you okay?”
    “Yes, I’m fine,” she said. “Look, Helen, I’m going to have to postpone our shopping trip this afternoon. There’s something that I have to do.”
    Helen’s eyes narrowed. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
    “Yes. Don’t worry. Everything is fine.”

    Adrianne followed Thomas to a part of the city forbidden to her. They passed the tall glass and steel skyscrapers, then the area of small red brick townhouses in the lower edge of the city near the river. Thomas covered her white stola with his overcoat. Sparkling white under leather. No one should see a woman of the cloth step into such unseemly quarters. They went through back alleys where things scurried away. The sour stench of urine wafted in the air. They neared the old harbor where the great ships used to dock, an abandoned place where she had been before. Thomas helped her maneuver over rickety wooden pathways, split rotten by water and time, into a warehouse of crates and the squeaks of rats, to Room 177. Adrianne swallowed, turned the knob, and entered.
    Clean and fragrant with perfume. A room familiar. A bedroom. A place she had once shared. Lit with candles. This was their place. Their secret place.
    Then he entered. He wore a military uniform. Sharp. Beautiful. Healthy. Smiling. Alive! Antoine took off his beret and walked up to her and held her close. He smelled like cooled-off heat, like sweat dissipating. His bulk surrounded her. She swung in his arms, helpless with shock.
    “Antoine?” Words clogged in her throat. “Thomas told me … I didn’t believe … I thought you were dead.”
    “Dead? Why would you think I was dead? I was only gone for a few months for training.” She touched his face to feel the breath from his nose and mouth on her fingers. She drank in his warmth.
    “But …”
    Spinning. Turning. Slipping. Sliding. This was the truth. This was a lie. This was the truth. A lie. This was real. But … it couldn’t be. She remembered him. Another time. Another place. Sick and dying. Then healthy and leaving her.
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    “Shh, you silly woman. I’m fine.”
    “Something is wrong. …”
    “Nothing is wrong,” Antoine said. “Not with us. Everything is as it should be.”
    “Everything …” Adrianne touched the nape of his neck, caressed his ear, whispered tender words too deep to recall. She kissed him on the tip of his chin. Smoothed his eyebrows. Touched the back of his head and the softness of his hair. She was his. He was hers. They were one. “Everything …”
    “We don’t have much time before I have to be back. The war