LIKE A WHISPER ON the wind, Madame Destine heard a voice calling her name in the darkness. She blinked hard, and when she reopened her eyes, she was blinded. She waved her fingers in front of her face, feeling the breeze against her smooth, porcelain cheeks-but she still couldn't see. It was as if she were in a windowless, wall-less void, surrounded by reams of black curtains, frozen to the core of her being, too scared even to move. Suddenly, she felt herself grabbed by her shoulders. Someone was there in the blackness with her.
'Madame Destine! Madame, please wake,' said a very anxious voice. 'It is me…Butter. Please wake up.'
Something stirred inside Destine, and it was as if she was drowning, but the voice was giving her buoyancy, something in the distance on which to focus her attention. She gritted her teeth and pushed with all her might through the folds of black silk that encapsulated her, breaching through the material, into the real world, gasping for air. She rolled her pale blue eyes, searching the room for a recognizable face. Finding Butter, she fell limply into his arms, and he guided her gently to a seat, laying a crocheted shawl across her shoulders.
'Madame, are you all right?' Butter asked.
Destine eyed Butter's bruised face and split lip. 'I could ask you the same thing.'
'I arrive not five minutes past and found you lying on floor, face twisted in terrible pain. You weep. Only a few moments ago you awoke,' said Butter, caressing the Frenchwoman's hair. 'You fainted perhaps, Madame?'
'It's nothing to be concerned about,' Destine lied. 'It was just a bad headache. But what on earth has happened to you?'
'I am well now, Madame, it looks worse than it is.'
'I doubt that. Got into some trouble, did you? And how is Cornelius? Don't tell me he's gone and got himself killed?' Destine asked, half-jokingly.
'Not yet, but tomorrow is another day,' said Butter.
'So? Tell me what happened.'
'We were in search of Prometheus. Fish market. Heard noises, and were beaten by many unknown assailants, Madame. We became locked in large…er…the boss call it "ice box". But we survive. Prometheus arrive in the nick of the time!'
'Prometheus? You found him? Oh, thank God! Is he all right? Where is he now? I must see him,' said Destine excitedly, as she tried to rise from her seat.
'Rest, Madame, is to be your first action, I think,' said Butter, gently easing her back down again. 'You do not look so well. Get back your strength.'
'I am fine, mon ami. I have survived much worse than this.'
'The boss has asked me to take you to him; they hiding at circus in Hyde Park until we get there. The boss desperately seeks you for what options to take. Seems lots of bad men in that Crawditch…one even know name of the boss. It is very late now, but in the morning time we shall leave.'
'Of course, let me just get up.' Again Destine tried to stand, and this time her legs gave out beneath her and she fell clumsily into the high-backed chair. 'I think that headache took more out of me than I imagined.'
'But that is uncommon, is it not?' asked Butter.
'Very. Although recently, getting more frequent, perhaps the older I get.'
Butter cocked his head to one side. 'Madame…it was a vision, yes? We spoke earlier of your worry over their clarity.'
'I cannot hide anything from you, my friend,' admitted Destine. 'Sometimes, if I experience a particularly intense vision, my senses simply cannot cope with the overload-and my mind shuts my body down. I collapse.'
'And this is what occurred today? May I ask…what was it about?'
'It was…something that I wish to keep private for the moment,' Destine answered, teasing her bottom lip with her teeth. 'I am sure it was nothing.'
Butter did not remove his stare from her form. The concerned expression that engraved itself upon his face was obvious to Destine. She turned her head away to hide her own apprehension.
'Do you think this vision is to come true?' the Inuit asked. His innocent, almost childlike grasp of the English language made it difficult for Destine to ignore.
'Let me answer your question with another question, Butter,' she said, a mask of dread swamping her features. 'Would you betray the trust of someone you loved if you knew it was the only way to keep them alive?'