Blind Hearts and Silenced Passion (6 page)

Blanchefleur stared at him, her hand still hovering over the
tea mug she'd likely wanted to inspect further. "Your mate."

"That's what I said." Remy didn't back down, since
she was the last person in the world who could possibly judge him for this. His
brother was a different story, and he might genuinely have trouble convincing
Laurent that he was in his right mind, but Blanchefleur would understand.

And indeed, she did. She dropped down onto the couch and
rubbed her eyes. "Well... That must have been awkward. Anyone I
know?"

Remy shrugged. He wasn't sure if Blanchefleur and Baqir had
ever met. There was still a lot about the silencer world that he did not understand,
since the last time he'd poked his nose into something so serious he'd lost his
eyesight. "Maybe. Anyway, he's also trying to get to the bottom of this
problem with the humans. I won't just sit here twiddling my thumbs if there is
any chance that I could help."
 
What
Remy had been trying to do so far was not enough. If he wanted to truly provide
support, he needed training, insight he could only get from someone like
Blanchefleur.

"Oh, Remy." Blanchefleur sighed heavily and patted
the spot next to her. Remy reluctantly joined her and was rewarded with a smile
that almost looked kind. For a few moments, she hesitated, but then she seemed
to make a decision and started to speak. "Do you know why you survived
that day, why we didn't kill you? We saw something in you. Most everyone does,
really, if they look closely enough. You're not silencer material. Being a
silencer, it's not just about training, about knowing how to shoot a gun or how
to wield a sword. It's about actually having the strength—no, the
ruthlessness—to do it whenever it is needed."

"I'm not weak," Remy fumed. He would have probably
been more convincing if he hadn't been fiddling with his glasses, and he
stopped himself when he realized what he was doing. "Why does everyone
keep saying that?"

Blanchefleur gave him a knowing look. "You're not weak,
no. In fact, in some ways, you're stronger than I'll ever be. I'm aware of what
you lived through—what we put you through so that you could live. And yet, here
you are, receiving me into your home. That kind of fearlessness and ability to
forgive—it doesn't appear in just anyone."

Remy let out a bitter laugh. "It's all futile if all I'm
ever going to be is the blind guy."

"No, Remy, it's not. Listen. If I had a choice, if
anyone had asked me, I would have never wanted this life for Sylvain." Her
voice trembled slightly when she said her dead mate's name, and Remy reminded
himself to appreciate that she seemed to be making a genuine effort for his
sake. "He would have never wanted it for me either. I don't even know who
your mate is, but I'm sure that he would feel the same way."

She was right, since Remy himself would have much preferred
it had Baqir been spared the hardships of a silencer's existence. But that
didn't mean he could just give up. "I came here for a reason,
Blanchefleur. This is my life too. But everyone is keeping secrets—my brother,
my ally, my mate—and I'm not a pup. I can help."

Blanchefleur's expression shifted into something tight and
dark. "Remy... There are people dying. No one knows why. Silencers drugged
and murdered as they investigate."

Drugged. Remy remembered Blanchefleur's pale face when she'd
taken in the tea mugs, and the earlier phone call Baqir had received. "In
other words, no training would keep me safe."

"Indeed not, and if you do anything stupid, your mate,
and quite possibly your brother, would be inclined to follow your
example."

"Fair enough." Remy clenched his fists, still not
ready to give up. "Look, Blanchefleur, I know the silencer world is a mess
right now, and I don't particularly want to get involved in what you guys are
supposed to do. That doesn't mean I can't investigate in other ways, as long as
I have the strength. You have leads, I know you do, but you keep me out. There
will be files on these murders, and I'd be able to do research, but not if I'm
being held back—by you, my brother or my own inability to act."

"I don't actually have those files. I've only heard
about the murders through the grapevine. As for my leads... They haven't really
led anywhere so far."

"No trace of him, then?"

She shook her head. "I always knew it was a long shot,
but every time I fail, it gets worse. I feel like I'm running around in
circles. Sometimes, I think back to that day, and I almost believe it was all
an illusion."

Silence fell. Remy didn't really know what to say.
Blanchefleur had pointed out more than once that she needed to find the
werewolf who'd told her about the contents of the original Secrecy Accords,
therefore giving her the leverage she'd needed to keep her son safe. Beyond
that, the man was a complete mystery, as was the reason why he had that kind of
knowledge to begin with. Meeting him had nonetheless cost Blanchefleur the life
of her mate, so he definitely existed.

"Maybe we're looking in the wrong place," Remy
mused. "Where did you even pick up these leads? Are you sure they're for
real?"

"We can't be sure of anything when it comes to such
situations. The underground is not a place filled with trustworthy individuals,
so things we find there can only ever be taken with a grain of salt."

"The... underground?" Remy repeated.

"Ah." Blanchefleur made a sound of realization.
"You're not familiar with the term. Well, it's pretty self-explanatory.
There are always... seedier sides to any society, and ours is not exempt from
that rule. Silencers sort of hover at the edge of the paranormal underground,
although we're not quite allowed to enter it."

"What does that even mean?" Remy was frustrated,
not only because this was the first time he'd ever heard such a thing existed,
but that it hadn't occurred to him that it might be the case. It was stupid,
given everything he'd done in the past. "Are there... gatherings? Special
locations? Clubs?"

Blanchefleur scoffed. "Clubs? You watch too many human
movies. I will never understand how the humans think anyone can keep a part of
their world a secret while broadcasting their permanent location. No, Remy,
there are no clubs. But there are, indeed, gatherings, meetings, parties,
fights. Nothing is ever certain or stable, not the location or the organizer or
even the timeline between events. There is no balance, nothing to guide it.
Mostly, there's just one rule—keep outsiders out."

"That sounds... unpleasant," Remy admitted.
"And you're taking information from these people?"

"I've mingled with them in the past. I was an exile for
a long time, so it put me in a unique position. But even then, they were
reluctant and now that my sentence has been revoked... Well, to be honest, I'm
not surprised I was provided with a lead that ended up with me having to fight
for my life."

Remy didn't know what he'd been expecting, but it definitely
wasn't that. He realized that must have been the reason why Blanchefleur had
kept him from going with her on her mission. He supposed it made sense from her
point of view, since she didn't actually know him well enough to trust that he
could hold his own and actually help.

Either way, this might be something he could work with.
"Well, if they're trying to keep you away, they must definitely know
something. We just need to find a better way to approach."

Blanchefleur shot him an amused look. "And I suppose you
have the solution."

Remy deflated. If he'd known what to do, he'd have already
acted by now without asking for anyone's permission. Blanchefleur seemed to be
aware of that, and further, she was not above using it against him.

When a speculative glance appeared on her face, Remy knew she
hadn't been completely truthful with him and did, in fact, have some ideas she
had yet to reveal. "I will make a deal with you, Remy. You show me what
you found that day, and I'll include you in my following steps."

Remy went cold. He should have been thrilled that she was
willing to include him in her investigation, but the way she said the words
left no question as to what particular moment in time she was referring to.

It was not something he wanted to talk about, least of all
with her. He took refuge under masks carefully cultivated after years of being
the outsider and gave her an icy look. "Which day? Speak clearly because I
have no idea what you're talking about."

Blanchefleur tsked at him. "Come now. Playing the fool
doesn't become you."

Remy stubbornly stayed quiet, and his silence drew a sigh out
of Blanchefleur. She left the couch, giving Remy the space she seemed to know
he needed. With a grace that left Remy more than a little unsettled, she walked
to the window and stared out toward the city—although Remy suspected that
wasn't really what she saw.

"You know," she started in a strikingly friendly
tone, "I never did understand why you were punished. Certainly, your
actions were rash, and you did almost expose us to the humans. But all things
considered, there was no reason to actually sentence you to death, especially
given the influence and standing your family has in France."

"What do you expect me to say?" Remy snapped at
her. "I was curious. There was something about your guild that didn't sit
right with me, but I never did figure it out. Not until much later, at
least."

Growing up, Remy had been unsettled by the behavior of
Blanchefleur's former leader, Florent. He hadn't been able to pinpoint what was
wrong, and he'd read up on guild legislation in an attempt to soothe his fears.
It hadn't worked. If anything, it had left him wondering why they were trusting
silencers to be the keepers of all their secrets. It gave them too much power.

No one had agreed with him, not even Laurent. So Remy had
taken it up on himself to find the evidence he needed. That decision turned out
to be quite unfortunate for him, since he'd ended up crashing a silencer
meeting. Florent's violent reaction had filled him with such dread that he'd
almost shifted into his wolf form on the spot, even if the area they'd been in
wasn't exactly the most isolated one. There had been humans around, although
now that Remy thought about it, he wondered if those people had actually been
involved with the guild from the beginning.

It didn't matter. Nothing Florent had said that day stood
out. From Remy's point of view, it had all been for naught.

Blanchefleur obviously didn't think the same. She turned
toward him, fixing him with a piercing, but cold glare—her silencer eyes.
"Don't you dare be vague about this. The fact that Sylvain and I left you
alive was instrumental to what happened later. That was when Florent started
watching us more closely. If we hadn't done that, if we hadn't stepped in for
you, he might still be alive."

Remy didn't think she truly believed that, since there had
been more factors involved in her decision—mostly her son, whom both she and
her mate had wanted to protect. Besides, his execution would have probably gone
through the Gathering, and his family would have somehow prevented it.

Probably. Maybe. Remy couldn't be certain. Back then, the
Gathering had placed a lot of faith into the guilds, so if Florent said he
deserved death, perhaps they would have not questioned it after all.

He would never know, but he could answer Blanchefleur's
question, even if it did stir uncomfortable memories for both of them.
"There's not much I gained from that day, other than the glasses—but... I
did find something."

The memory came unbidden, unearthed from the back of his mind
where he'd kept it buried for so long.

****

"You! Little worm! Come here."

Remy stumbled out of his now compromised hiding spot and
didn't bother with looking at the speaker. He already knew the man's identity,
since he'd basically followed him here. He also knew that if he was caught, it
would be all over.

He ran out of the warehouse that had been hosting the
silencer meeting. Outside, the sun had already faded into sharp shades of gold
and orange, leaving behind a horizon that seemed tinted with blood. Through the
smoke and fumes that permeated the air in the docks, the sight was startling
and, to Remy's fevered mind, it seemed like an omen.

He tried to control his wolf, but he couldn't quite
succeed. A human grabbed onto his arm, and Remy pushed him away so hard the man
went flying into a pile of crates. He didn't have time to be alarmed by his own
actions, because the silencer who'd been with Florent—a man Remy didn't
recognize—was suddenly on him.

Remy flailed wildly, his instincts of self-preservation
taking precedence over all else. He clawed at his captor's face and chest, and
the clothes the stranger was wearing tore under the sharp tips of what had been
his fingernails. The man seemed surprised by the resistance Remy put up,
because he faltered and fell back.

Remy seized his advantage and got up once more. He was
nearly out of the docks when another person tackled him. This time, he didn't
manage to escape. The woman on top of him immobilized him with brisk
efficiency. Florent's voice took out all the remaining fight out of Remy.
"Good work, Blanchefleur. I want you to find out how exactly this little
worm got in here—once you take care of him of course."

"What did he do?"

"Spied on us and displayed his eyes, claws and fangs
in front of the humans."

The silencer woman didn't react to the words. She pulled
off his mask, perhaps intending to interrogate him. The sight of his face
seemed to give her pause. "Ah."

Another man appeared by her side, staring at him.
"Hmm. He's just a pup."

Florent didn't seem impressed by the other silencer's
assessment. "He's a spy, and you'll do what you're told."