Sanglante de la Neige-VI

               Sanglante de la Neige-VI

He sat down at the bar. This was a man carrying the weight of many worlds on his shoulders. The waitress walked over to him. She had red lips and chalky pale skin. The man looked at her in silence. She blushed out of a little nervousness. Finally speaking the girl said, “Well boy? What will you have?” Trying to smile he spoke, “Get me some wine.” The girl nodded and disappeared behind the bar.

               At that moment, two men walked in. They sat at a table by the door. Only a few people would notice the subtle nod they gave the sullen man at the bar. The men ordered in Spanish. The waitress smiled, “Up from Florida are you?” The men smiled and the girl brought them some beers.

               The man at the bar got up and walked towards the two men with his wine. Each step carried with it the pain f endless indelible sins. He smiled and joined them in silence. The waitress came over and in a big southern smile spoke, “Ah! The sad French boy has some friends!” They still remained silent. “May I join you?” She asked. One of the Spanish men nodded and she sat down.

               Still talking, “Are you guys political exiles or something?” Finally Amin spoke, “Yes, we are Carlists fleeing from the turmoil in Spain.” Camille looked at him with disappointment, and then looked at the young girl, “What is your name dear?” She smiled, “Ana”. Camille looked at her, “Have you ever considered eternity Ana?”

               She laughed, “You mean like going to church and what not? Are you traveling priests?” Bashir laughed, “If priests were damned to hell and cursed for their crimes, then priests we are.” Camille and Amin looked at Bashir. The weight of these days seemed to hang heavier on him than anyone else.

               For Bashir, his loyalty was the only thing keeping him bound to Camille. Camille had saved him and his brother. They owed him their lives, but the unnaturalness of his sickness made this all the more painful. They had lived longer than a man ought to. And worse yet they had hardly aged. They were bound to him and this odd status granted them an extended life. But whereas Amin enjoyed this blasphemy, Bashir wore the pain of his soul on his shoulders.

               That witch had warned the boys that their souls were bound to their unnatural master. They were his familiars and would live longer than normal lives. And the corruption of the curse would draw them. As until now they had remained only his familiars, his assistants, but Bashir knew his brother had become increasingly interested in the idea of becoming like Camille. And Idea that nauseated Bashir. Yet he remained, torn and broken by the curse, but he was bound to Camille and his brother.

               Camille spoke, “No my dear, like walking across eternity, cursed but blessed.” Ana stared at him, a little scared, but she found comfort in his voice, it seemed to hypnotize her. Finally Bashir stood up, I will be returning to my room. He stormed off, and Amin looked to Camille.

               The night is young my dear, join us on a walk. Ana nodded and followed them in silent compliance.