I watch Michel and his eyes close, his nostrils flaring as he absorbs the news. He covers his eyes with a hand and my heart clenches forhim.
Ed clears his throat. "He wasn't working on some clandestine operation we didn't knowabout?"
"Not that I know of," Michel says, his voice barely audible. "We've only recently begun speakingagain."
"You'll have to find someone to revivehim."
"Of course," Michel says, and bends to pick up his book. I reach down for him, glancing at the title. Aquinas,Summa Theologica. I hand it to him and our fingers touch for a second. A surge of sadness fills me from him and I want to take his hand and feel more, but he quickly pulls his hand away from mine as if avoiding my touch. He glances at hiswatch.
"I'll have to makearrangements..."
"I'm sorry about this Michel," Ed says, his earlier anger gone, replaced by patience. "We should go to the morgue," Ed says, standing. "You need to identify him. Takepossession."
Michel slips the book onto the table and follows him. I take up the rear and walk behind Michel. He's being amazingly calm, considering but I can tell he's very upset by the stiffness to his body and his movements, as if he's holding himself in, desperately trying to control his emotions. I want so much to comfort him, but know there is nothing I could do or say. We stop in the entry and Michel speaks to a servant, who brings him his cassock-coat, helping him with it. I note the way all the staff treat him with deference, keeping their eyesdowncast.
Michel speaks with the guard who greeted us, and when we drive away from the grounds, I notice there's a car tailingus.
We drive to the morgue in silence. Michel is seated beside me in the back of the sedan. I glance at him and he's looking down at his hands, which are in fists, his hair partially covering his face. I want so badly just to lean over and put my arms aroundhim.
"You met with him before Montana and once we were there," he says quietly. "Did he sayanything?"
"You already know what we spokeabout."
"I have no idea what you spoke about," Michel says, turning to me, frowning. "I was away on personalbusiness."
"I'm sorry," I say quickly. "I thought I saw a vampire in the alley behind the café. I thought it wasyou."
"Spying on you? I was busy all that night until I sawyou."
"Michel," I say, leaning in closer, taking his hand, squeezing, needing to touch him. "He has that tattoo – the same as the other victims of the River Man. The LorraineCross."
He frowns and turns to me, squeezing my hand back, his grief barely held atbay.
"He does? I haven't seen it but we've been estranged fordecades…"
I remember the thick scarf Julien wore the night he showed up. I wonder if he hasn't been hiding it for it was only because Julien's scarf fell open when we had coffee that I sawit.
Michel lets me hold his hand, but I get nothing from him of where he's been or what he was doing. He's just a wall of rawemotion.
"There's a video camera so you can identify him at a distance," Ed says from the frontseat.
Michel shakes his head. "I want to seehim."
"Michel," I say and pull his hand closer. "When I was with Soren, I read him. He's the one killing Adepts. He's the RiverMan."
Michel turns to me and shakes hishead.
"He can't be. He has an alibi for everymurder."
I look at him. Can't he see that Soren can compel anyone to give him analibi?
"I know what Ifelt."
"What did yousee?"
"I didn't see anything, but if he's more powerful than a vampire, he might be able to block my telepathy. But I know I felt him and he's the RiverMan."
* * *