Page 25 of Unshakable

Henri sat in his motelroom, facing the window, and dialed his last good number for Michael Midadel, confident he now knew the whole story of Toula Thibodeaux.

“Hello?”

Surprised, Henri stuttered his greeting. “M-Michael? This is Henri. I’m surprised you still have the same number after all these years.”

“Henri! How are you?” Michael didn’t skip a beat. He rarely did. “Where are you, for God’s sake? Are you in town?”

Henri didn’t know what town he referenced. “No, nothing like that. I’m good, doing some traveling and came across someone you know.”

Now, Michael paused. “Really. Who?”

“Toula Thibodeaux.”

“Hmm. How did your paths cross?”

Henri kept the story as simple as possible, the details to a minimum. “Happenstance. She recognized what I was because of having known you. You’re not easily forgotten.”

“Of course,” Michael likely didn’t believe the lie, and wanted more information. “I haven’t seen or heard from her in ages. Is she well?”

“Yes, she’s in good health. She told me something remarkable. Something I wanted to check out with you.”

Impatience came through the line. “What did she tell you?”

“She says,” Henri took a deep breath, “you gave her a prayer to use, in the event she needed protection. Did you?”

A long beat passed between them as Michael considered his answer. “I didn’t give her the prayer, Henri. She took it from me, the little thief. Did she march right out and shout the words in the middle of the night to see what would happen?”

Now Henri hesitated, hated playing conversational chess with this man. “She used the prayer. I want to know what this prayer supposedly does. Why don’t I don’t anything about a prayer of protection? A prayer for anything, actually. This is a real thing?”

“Yes, the prayer is real. Using the prayer, well, that’s an unknown. Legend says these words, said in the correct order, at the correct time, summon the redeemed Grigori, who can accept or decline the petition, based largely upon the reputation of which one of us gave the supplicant the verbiage.”

“This is dangerous, Michael. It’s one thing for us, the hybrids, to have contact with humans because we’re human, too. But to summon spiritual beings?”

“Exactly why I would never just give her something like that. It took me decades to find the prayer in the first place.”

No matter how hard Michael’s words were to digest, he now had more questions for Toula. “Lends credence to the redemption theory, if the redeemed gather to sit in judgement of these prayers.”

Henri’s diversion didn’t work. Instead of chattering about the possibility of Grigori redemption, he asked, “Was her petition granted?”

Henri lied. “I don’t know. How would she know?”

“They tell her, on the spot. They don’t say how the prayer will be answered, so if she asked for herself, she might be able to reach a reasonable conclusion. If she asked for someone else, well, much harder to tell when the mission’s accomplished. Aside from their declaration, a prayer asked on the behalf of another may never be conclusively seen and understood to be answered. Like most prayers sent anywhere by anyone.”

Henri sat up straight as Kamen Tourelle walked past his window, headed toward the motel office. His black aura roiled with ash and his grim expression unnerved Henri.

Tourelle did not glance Henri’s way.

“Do you know anything about a prophecy involving a fallen angel?”

Michael scoffed. “Which one? Fallen love their prophecies.”

Did they? “I don’t know which one.”

“Are you still with her, Henri?” Michael asked, his tone tinged with jealousy.

“No, no I’m not. I’m heading back to Florida tonight, packing right now, in fact.”

“Be careful with her,” Michael warned. “She’s not what she seems. There’s quite a bit more to Toula Thibodeaux than meets the eye, old friend.”

“Duly noted,” Henri replied, squinting to see Tourelle’s car leaving the parking lot. “I have to go.”

Ending the call abruptly, Henri dialed Toula and received no response. Fearing for her safety, he jumped into his rental car and followed Tourelle at a distance.

When the flashy car veered onto the northbound interstate, Henri released a held breath and continued to follow for about thirty minutes.

Until he felt satisfied Tourelle was leaving the area. Not for good, of course, not forever. For now, though, he left Henri enough time to make some adjustments to Toula’s lifestyle and foster a sense of security rooted in reality.

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