Love's First Light by Jamie Carie Read Free Book Online Page A

away and swung his fist into the thin air. “Fine then. Thy will be done.” That was the first time he said the phrase, and it was filled with all the pain and hurt and rage that he could muster.
    Stretching his tired muscles, which felt like they hadn’t any rest or sleep, he reached to the ceiling and then out to the side. He looked at his arms stretched wide. His muscles bulged and flexed as he tested his physical strength. He raised his forearms at a ninety degree angle and bulged out his biceps. He looked down at his chest, saw the muscles swell as he took a deep breath and flexed them. He looked down at his lean belly and chuckled. He was young. He was strong. Maybe he didn’t need God and His will.
    Maybe he should abandon his faith—little good it had done him—and trust in his own strength. He laughed, knowing his thoughts were foolishness, but feeling a rise of power into his throat. Walking over, he grasped the molding at the top of the door, set his fingers in the groove of the wood, and lifted his body until his chin touched the doorframe. He did this again and again and again, the air from his lungs becoming great whooshes. He did twenty, then thirty, then fifty.
    “Exercise is healthy for the mind.”
    At Jasper’s wry voice, he glanced over his shoulder.
    “Come. Have some breakfast.”
    Christophé dropped to his feet. “I’m not leaving today.”
    “No?”
    “No.”
    Jasper stared at him for a long minute and then smiled. “Very well then. Perhaps you can assist me with a problem I am having.”
    Christophé grinned, rubbing his stomach. “Some food first. I have a feeling any problem of yours will require an astute mind.”
    Jasper waved him into the kitchen. “Only a study of Pascal’s—some unknown bacteria and the wherewithal to destroy it without killing the good cells. But come, I’ve made you oatmeal.”
    As they sat across from each other, Christophé told Jasper his plan. “I can’t leave yet. Not while Émilie’s final resting place is yet unknown. I have to know where they buried my family before I can leave Paris. I have to pay my last respects.” He looked at Jasper, his lips pressed together in a thin line, then voiced his fear. “I don’t want to put you in danger. Robespierre is looking for me. If he finds me here . . . you will go to prison, at the very least.”
    Jasper stared back into Christophé’s eyes, equally hard. “You have always been welcome in my home.” The old man paused and looked down into his own lap. His voice was low as he revealed the hidden parts of his heart. “You are as close to a son as I will ever have. So never again question my love for you.”
    Christophé nodded once, then looked down at his bowl and shoved a big spoonful of oatmeal into his mouth so that he wouldn’t have to reply. He nearly choked on the giant mouthful, then grabbed his cup and gulped a quick drink of water to help him swallow.
    After breakfast the two men entered the sanctuary of the laboratory. It was just a room. A room filled with beakers and books and powders and potions. Jasper kept methodical records of all his experiments, all the concoctions he had invented or improved upon were carefully recorded, sometimes in a secret code that Christophé had helped invent. Christophé’s interest had veered from alchemy but he respected it more as an art form.
    “Here. Come look at this.”
    For a moment, being in this place he had loved so as a child, hearing the voice that had led him into the wonders of alchemy and science . . . Christophé was ten years old again. Life was full of promise, not destruction. Life surrounded him.
    Death did not exist.
    He moved to stand beside Jasper, and they bent their heads, his dark and the other gray, over the latest recipe, which looked more like artistic symbols than text. The familiar symbols filled his mind, drawing his heart and spirit away from terror, into the light of reason.
    And there, at his mentor’s side, cocooned