Brad’s powers seemed to be waning, or maybe he’d drained every last ounce of energy. Night had fallen, and he needed to check on Lina. How he longed to hold her, tell her he loved her, and explain that he’d been doing his utmost to save her and the rest of Paris. Had the tree outside the hospital helped her to heal? Kept her safe? He’d trusted the tree’s word.
Glad to find a taxi at the late hour, he caught a ride to the hospital. When he reached the nurses’ station, they talked to him with exuberant voices and hand gestures, but he didn’t understand a word. Once the crisis passed, he would attend French night school because he couldn’t handle being cut off from everything. What a relief tree communication seemed to transcend the barriers humans had created linguistically. He always understood what the plants told him.
Ignoring the nurses’ words, he headed straight for Lina’s room and stopped in his tracks at the door. The neat, straight bed made his heart sink to the ground. He tried to find something to grip onto and fumbled for anything—a doorframe, a trolley—but instead found the arm of a nurse.
“You…not find her.” Her broken English felt like an anchor in a storm.
“Where is she?”
“She go home. Better.”
“Argh. I thought….” He couldn’t even voice the dark thoughts.
Better. She’s gone home. I should go home, too. No, he hadn’t shielded all of Paris yet. If she was okay, he should carry on. He shuffled out to the parking lot and got into his car. At least, inside the vehicle, he could keep warm while he traveled the city. How vast could a place be? How many trees had been planted over the centuries in this place? Why had he never seen things this way before?
He yawned and started the engine. Back to where I left off. No other way. But maybe I should find some supper first. Is anything even open at eleven at night?
He drove, only half-awake, until he found a tiny café still open. Rushing in, he bought some croissants, a chocolate, and a coffee to keep him going. As he stepped outside again, he met a horrific sight. There stood Lina right next to the evil sage’s truck, her hooded jacket covered in snow. She spoke animatedly to the occupant, oblivious to the fact she’d walked right into the lion’s den.
He could make a grab for her, whisk her away, but then he’d be seen. He’d hoped to remain inconspicuous so he might save the city from the woman’s evil grip. What could she do to him, though? She probably kept a chainsaw in her truck, an axe maybe.
What about Lina? He couldn’t risk the life of the woman he loved more than anything. He had no idea how low the Nice sage would stoop to carry out her wicked plans.
“Lina,” he shouted.
Lina never turned, never heard him. Or, if she did, she ignored him. But the other sage did. A sneer took over her “pretty” face, and, opening the door, she pulled Lina into her vehicle. Tires screeched as she sped away.
“Noooo!”
He ran to his car and took off after the truck, which was hard to miss with its red and white streaks and shiny new bull bars. If the back had carried any branches, maybe Lina would have realized to whom she was speaking. Too late to warn her.
Although his car was old, Brad could still count on it for maneuverability and speed. Putting all his years of rally driving to good use, he had caught up fast. He tagged the truck until it came to a standstill outside an apartment block. As soon as Celeste, the driver, got out, gun in hand, he raced toward the evil sage and grabbed her by the neck, knocking her arm roughly from behind. She dropped the weapon and glared at him.
“Who are you?” she managed to choke out while he gripped her neck tight and made a grab for her hands since she was no longer a threat to Lina. The woman stared, the pulse in her neck throbbing and tears in her eyes.
“I’m the person who’s taking you to the police for destroying Paris’s trees. Lina, bring the gun. Keep it pointed at her.”
Eyes wide, she obeyed, picked up the weapon, and held it with shaky hands. He dragged his captive along the ground and shoved her inside his car. He kept her in his grip even though she struggled. “You drive, Lina. Give me the gun.”
Lina climbed in the front seat and handed him the gun without a word. He wondered what she thought, but he couldn’t bother about that now. He had to hold this woman. Strangely enough, although Celeste was of sturdy build and a spitfire, he held her captive without a problem. After spending the entire night driving all over the city, he knew the shortest route straight to the police station and dictated the directions to Lina. The closer they came, the more Lina’s hands shook on the steering wheel.
The other sage watched her, eyes narrowed, ready to pounce. Lina and Celeste both kept coughing, but Lina seemed to control hers more. Something else was afoot, but he didn’t have time to worry about that either.
His wife parked outside the police station, and he hauled his heavy and angry load out of the car, keeping the gun pointed at her. She couldn’t resist him. He had a feeling his powers didn’t affect only trees.
Lina followed. Once inside the police station, Lina communicated something in French to the officer at the front desk. Within minutes, a burly, uniformed man took over the awful job of restraining the evil woman.
“You can’t lock me away. It’s not safe. If that woman’s near me, I can die. She’ll kill me.” She pointed at Lina, who shied away, tears flooding her eyes again.
Brad embraced his wife, but she remained tense and unresponsive in his arms—possibly from fear.
The officer didn’t seem perturbed by the brunette’s statement about Lina and soon removed her to another area of the police station. Lina relaxed but pulled away from Brad. She rattled off in French again to the officer, probably giving a report of what had happened.
Exhausted, he slumped on a nearby chair and reached toward the dried-out palm in the corner of the room. The creature needed water and a good wash. He filled a cup from the water fountain and hydrated it. Lina’s deep yet gentle tone, especially when she spoke French to the officer, sank into him, stirring a desire to have her close again.
By the time she came to him, he’d dusted off all the leaves with a hanky from his pocket.
She sat next to him. “I don’t understand. Who’s shielding the trees? If she cut them down, who put the funny, protective glow around them? There must be a third sage in the city.”
“It’s been a long night. Let’s take you home.” He didn’t feel like explaining anything at that moment. Yet he still didn’t understand why Celeste and Lina couldn’t be within close proximity.
“I don’t know if you should take me home. Where have you been?”
“Come.” He reached to pull her into his arms, but she slunk away.
“Are you coming home, too?” The sadness in her eyes pierced his heart.
“It is my home.”
“What about Germany? I thought you had a race or something?” A spark ignited in her, and her whole body seemed to tense.
“I’m not racing until you and Paris are back to your happy selves again.”
“Oh.” She looked away, and then a coughing fit overtook her again.
“Why did they discharge you if you’re still ill, Lina? How long have you been out in the snow?” He led her to the entrance.
“It’s not pneumonia or the snow. It’s that wretched woman. I’d hate to know what effect our close proximity has had on the city.”
When they stepped outside, heat blasted them. Rivulets ran down the street.
“What?” Lina shook her head.
Almost all of the snow had melted while they’d been in the police station.
“Freak weather patterns. I knew that was one of them. Why did she come?” Lina mumbled.
“The trees. Will they survive the radical change in weather?” he asked.
Jerking her head up, she stared at him. “I don’t know.”
“You have to get away from here.”
“No, I can’t leave them. They might die.”
“They’re safe. They’re shielded. Well, some of them.” A hot wind whipped through his hair. Water dripped off nearby plants and buildings, forming streams and puddles everywhere. Leaves and litter made flurries on the pavement.
“How do you know?” Another gust of wind flung her hood off her head, blowing her brown hair into her eyes. “You’re….” She pointed at him as if he’d committed the worst crime ever. “It’s you, isn’t it?” She turned away, her shoulders taut, her hands in fists. “Why am I always the last to know?”
He suppressed a smile. “I kind of thought I was.”
“You’re a century sage. By marrying me, your powers were awakened. Now I understand what my tree friend outside the apartment sensed.” She took off three jackets before they reached the car. “He told me he felt another sage nearby. That’s why I thought I was pregnant.”
Brad couldn’t say anything. Everything made sense. Well, almost everything.
She shoved him in the chest. “If you were such a good sage, where were you? Hey? Hey?” She pummeled him. “You left me to die in a hospital bed all alone. You didn’t care about our supposed daughter. You followed your dreams. You’d never make a good sage. Or husband. Ever.”
She marched down the street away from the car, tearing out his heart and taking it with her. Had she forgotten he’d just saved her life?