Chapter 63: A Favor 1
MARGAUX
The shadow pulsed around. The dark liquid that moved with intention I couldn’t name. It watched me with attention that burned across my skin despite having no visible eyes.
My throat closed around the question I’d already asked. What was this thing?
Silence stretched between us. Laurent’s gun remained trained on empty air. His eyes scanned the infirmary for threats he couldn’t perceive. The shadow rippled again. Something that might have been amusement rolled off it in waves I shouldn’t have been able to sense.
Then it was like it spoke directly into my mind.
It has been a while since anyone has ever asked that.
The voice came gentle and almost wistful, nothing like the similar creature from my nightmare that had tried to bargain for my soul in that impossible tunnel.
My name... My name is Theodore. Theodore Valcourt.
The darkness lifted.
Where liquid shadow had been, I now saw a man. He was young. Maybe a few years older than me. His features carried the same bone structure I’d seen in... the one whose name was Céline.
A gold thread extended from his finger. It connected to Laurent’s own finger. The cord glowed faintly in the afternoon light streaming through the infirmary windows.
"You are kind of scaring me." Laurent’s voice pulled my attention back to him. His gun hand had started to shake. "Luna Margaux, please tell me what you see."
The name clicked into place.
Theodore Valcourt... Would that not be... the original Alpha son? The one whose identity Étienne was now in possession of as he’d returned to claim his revenge.
I turned back to Laurent. My mouth opened but for a moment, the words stuck in my damaged throat for a moment before forcing their way out.
"He says his name is Theodore." Each syllable scraped against raw tissue. "Theodore Valcourt."
The gun dropped from Laurent’s grip. It hit the floor with a clatter that echoed too loudly in the sudden silence.
"What?"
Theodore’s apparition turned to face Laurent fully. The movement carried weight despite his transparent form. Despite the way I could see through him to the medical equipment beyond.
"He is still suffering, isn’t he?"
The ghost spoke only to me. His voice resonated in my skull with clarity that made my teeth ache. But his eyes remained fixed on Laurent with longing that made my chest hurt.
I looked between them. Dead and living. Connected by golden thread that shouldn’t exist.
"You are dead." The statement came out flat. Matter-of-fact. Because what else could I say? "How is this happening?"
Theodore’s gaze shifted back to me. Gratitude flickered across his translucent features.
"I do not know. But there is a light around you that called me to you. I knew you could help."
He drifted closer. He was not exactly walking. It was more like he was simply existing in one space and then another without transition.
"Will you help?"
"What is he saying?" Laurent’s voice cracked. Desperation bled through every word. "Is he in pain? Why is he not in a better place?"
I forced myself to focus on Laurent’s questions. To translate between worlds that had no business touching.
"He..." I swallowed hard. The motion hurt. "He wants a favor from me."
Laurent took a step forward. His hands clenched into fists at his sides.
"What favor?"
I turned back to Theodore and waited for him to explain what he needed. What could possibly require the intervention of someone still breathing?
"Can I borrow your body for a second?"
The request hit me like a physical blow. My spine went rigid. Every survival instinct I possessed screamed warnings.
"No." I backed away until my legs hit the infirmary bed. "No, you cannot."
Theodore’s expression shifted. Understanding mixed with something that looked like disappointment.
"I can give you something in return."
"What did he say?" Laurent moved closer. His eyes still scanned the room for a ghost he couldn’t see. "What does he want?"
Before I could answer, Theodore spoke again. His voice carried urgency that hadn’t been there moments before.
"I want to talk to Laurent. I cannot ascend until both our scars are mended. He is my scar, and I do not want him to hold on to all those negative emotions anymore."
The confession hung in the air between us. Heavy with implications, I was only beginning to understand. This wasn’t about possession or bargains. This was about closure. About releasing someone from grief that had become a prison.
I studied Theodore’s semi-transparent form. The way his eyes never left Laurent, even when speaking to me. The desperate hope written across features that death hadn’t fully erased.
Ah...
"Why don’t I just be your voice?" The offer escaped before I could second-guess it.
Theodore’s smile broke across his face like sunrise. Relief flooded through whatever connection we’d formed. Whatever new, strange ability allowed me to see what others couldn’t.
"I guess that will do."
I turned back to Laurent. He looked smaller somehow. More fragile than when he’d guided me back to this bed. His eyes held questions he was afraid to ask.
"He wants to talk to you." My voice came out steadier than I felt. "Through me."
Laurent shook his head. The movement was jerky. Borderline frantic.
"Theodore is dead. I don’t understand." He pressed his palms against his temples. "I think maybe you hit your head a little too hard, Luna Margaux."
Theodore drifted closer to Laurent. So close they almost overlapped. The gold thread between them pulsed brighter.
"Ren."
The single word carried weight and intimacy. It spoke of years of history compressed into one syllable.
"Ren," I repeated it without thinking.
Laurent froze. His entire body went still. When he spoke, his voice came out barely above a whisper.
"The...T Theo?"
The question broke something in the room, and reality seemed to shift. The space between living and dead narrowed to nothing.
Theodore’s form flickered. Emotion rippled across his translucent features.
I saw joy mix with grief in equal measure.
"Tell him... tell him I never blamed him."
I opened my mouth to relay the message, but Theodore was already speaking faster. Words tumbled out in a rush like he’d been holding them back too long.
"Tell him I know what Céline said. I know what everyone says. But it wasn’t his fault."
"He says..." I struggled to keep up with the flood of words appearing in my mind. "He says he never blamed you. He knows what Céline told you. What everyone says. But it wasn’t your fault."
Laurent’s knees buckled. He caught himself against the supply table. His knuckles went white with the force of his grip.
"I should have rejected you." The words came out broken and jagged. "I should have been stronger. I should have—"
"Tell him to stop. Please tell him to stop."
"He wants you to stop." I moved closer to Laurent, close enough to see tears tracking down his face. "Theodore, what do you want me to say?"
"Tell him I love him. Tell him I never stopped loving him even when I made the choice I did."
My throat tightened. The raw emotion bleeding through Theodore’s words made my chest ache with borrowed grief.
"He loves you." I forced the words past the lump in my throat. "He never stopped loving you. Even at the end."
Laurent collapsed. His legs gave out completely. He hit the floor on his knees with a sound that made me wince.
"Tell him I don’t want him to hate me."
I relayed it.
"I don’t hate you." Laurent’s voice came out thick with tears. "I could never hate you. I hate myself because I did this to you. I could have let you go. You would have lived."
"I wouldn’t have." Theodore’s response came immediate. He looked certain about it too.
"Tell him I needed both him and Father. When I realized I couldn’t have both, I refused to make a choice. So I made a third one. The selfish choice."
I relayed the words exactly.
I watched them land like blows against Laurent’s already broken composure.
"It wasn’t selfish." Laurent’s hands clawed at the floor tiles. "You were in so much pain. I watched you suffer, and I did nothing."
"Tell him that isn’t true." His voice had gone softer now. "He stayed with me until the end. Even after the end."
I did.
Theodore followed it with, "But I am dead, Laurent."