546

Tonight was an evening I had awaited and dreaded for so many, many years.  It was the first moment of honesty that Angelique had the decency to grant me.  Of course, she knew that an imminent death awaited her, and she had the confidence that clutching a pistol tends to lend.  I simply wish she had known that neither were necessary.

Having run afoul of Nicholas, she was again rendered mortal.  This is a fine point of witchcraft that eludes me still, but these creatures, once bound to whatever primal forces empower them, cease to be human in any way… except in their wants.  (Note, I said “wants.”  Not their reactions to the wants and needs of others.)

Are they animals?  Are they extensions of willpower?

I was correct in my earlier assertion; she loves me.  Desperately.  Sadly.  With an authenticity and passion that rivals my love for Josette.  If she could only understand that, perhaps I would be understood.  Perhaps not.

It would have been easy to love Angelique, and what would such a love have brought me?  That tempestuous spirit and unbridled sense of life would have consumed us both.  Josette, so mild and yielding, was such a comfort.  Passion is the sport of youth.  Comfort is the province of manhood.

More anon.

BC

 

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