CHAPTER SIX HUNDRED and SIXTY-NINE
“That’s true,” Pierre said. “My son never took a lot of stock in prophesies, even the ones that include him.”
“Until I met Delphie,” Nelson said.
“The Oracle,” Pierre said with a nod. “Yes.”
Pierre sighed and Jill could see just how sick and fragile Pierre was still.
“I remember,” Pierre said. “Delphie.”
“She’s been here with you while you were sick,” Nelson said.
“I will look forward to another visit,” Pierre said. “I saw Maresol today. She’s always such a breath of fresh air.”
Jill and Nelson smiled at Pierre’s smile.
“You didn’t come here to hear about my day,” Pierre said. “Tell me — what has happened?”
Nelson nodded to Jill.
“Dad,” Jill said.
Perses arrived so quickly that Nelson jumped to his feet. Pierre yelped and leaned back.
“Nelson,” Perses said in a kind of growl. Seeing, Pierre’s fright, he shifted, “I apologize Mr. Semaines. It was not my intention to alarm you.”
“You know who I am?” Pierre asked.
“You were the Grand Master of the Templars,” Perses said. “You may not remember me being there, but I was in Arizona when the Templars attacked.”
“My sister, Candy, had to make him promise not to kill everyone,” Jill said.
“They died anyway,” Pierre said.
“Yes,” Perses said. “Now, let’s make you comfortable.”
Perses turned to Nelson.
“He needs something warm to drink,” Perses said. He closed his eyes. “Mulled wine would be perfect. Do you have something like that?”
“I can. . .” Nelson started.
“Heather,” Jill said.
There was a knock at the door and Heather came into the carriage house. She was wearing her bathrobe over her pajamas.
“My father is very ill!” Nelson said. “More people, more risk of virus — what are you doing?”
“Define ‘people,’” Pierre said with a laugh.
“How may I be of service?” Heather asked.
“Dad says that Pierre needs something like mulled wine,” Jill said with a shrug. “I don’t. . .”
Heather knelt down to Pierre. She put her hands on either side of Pierre’s face. Nelson gawked at her.
“He is stronger than he looks,” Heather said. “You are correct, Perses.”
“Of course I am,” Perses said with a sniff.
Heather openly laughed at him which made Perses grin at her. Heather held out her hand and a jug of wine appeared.
“With the oranges?” Perses asked. “Spices? Honey?”
“Of course,” Heather said. She looked at Nelson and said, “Mugs?”
“What is that?” Nelson asked. He couldn’t help but be a snippy doctor. “I’m not going to get my father drunk on some crap from your freak of a grandfather’s cellar! I. . .”
“The alcohol is much reduced by the cooking,” Heather said. “It has what your father needs. You can either give it to him or. . .”
“Fuck,” Nelson said.
Denver Cereal continues tomorrow...
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