Dating : The Secret Diary of Anaïs Nin —  Paranormal Investigator

Reading this over now, I feel like such a fool. But how was I to know that things would turn out this way? I had dashed through the labyrinth beneath Paris to flee my captors, and my hubris led me to believe I had ever truly escaped it.

But where was I?

Oh yes. I wrote for an hour and then bravely painted my face before soldiering out once more onto the streets. If I was to meet Allendy at the station in time, I needed to hurry. Montmartre went by in a blur of heat, late-blooming flowers, and lingering luncheons at the café tables that spilled out onto the cobblestones.

I felt especially pleased with my silk dress, which I had recently turned and re-sewn myself once the wear began to show. Although the war was over, it was still often difficult to acquire pretty things. The chocolate brown floral print complimented my olive complexion, and the pleated skirt swirled charmingly around my legs and accented the curves of my petite and girlish figure. I knew I shouldn’t mix business with pleasure, but I desperately needed something to buoy my flagging spirits.

I arrived at the station just as the train pulled up in a cloud of steam. Above, the glass of the atrium glittered with late afternoon sun, and the pigeons cooed, sending lonely feathers fluttering down.

Allendy exited the train with the grace and poise of a dandy, hat in hand. Though it had only been a day since last we met, my heart flapped unevenly like a broken-winged bird. I waved, and he approached, stepping politely through the crowd disgorged by the train.

He wasn’t wearing his glasses, so I readily caught the sparkle in his cobalt eyes. “You received my telegram. Excellent. I was frightened, Anaïs, after reading yours.”

I stood on tiptoe and gave him a peck on each of his weather-beaten cheeks. “I’m so glad you came. How was the trip?”

“Tiring. The train always makes me sleepy, but the smoke stings my eyes and prevents me from napping. Is there a café with good wine nearby? My throat could use it.”

We threaded through the bodies and soon came to a favorite haunt that hung its walls with local art. I blinked back tears as I recognized one of André’s recent scribbles. I suggested we sit outside, so I needn’t stare down this unpleasant reminder of my newly deceased friend. After a few sips of the crisp chardonnay, we suddenly both broke the silence together.

“Now tell me, Anaïs, why do I get the feeling that something terrible has happened?”

“René, I can’t tell you how much your coming means to me.”

We shared an awkward laugh, and some of the lingering tension left my shoulders. He gestured for me to continue.

“I’m so sorry about this summer. What I said, I really — ” I began haltingly.

He dismissed my apology with a gracious wave. “There’s no need. If anyone knows how many demands your husband makes, how much of your time and energy Henry drains, I do. All I want is for you to be happy, Anaïs. I can’t leave my wife any more than you are likely to leave Hugo. I promise to behave myself from now on.”

Is it possible to feel everything at once? My heart made a courageous effort, then, flickering like a motion picture through sadness, relief, shame, and even fury on Henry’s behalf.

“Now, that’s not fair to Henry,” I replied as I felt my ire rising.

“Let’s leave that bloodsucking buffoon out of it today, my dear, and enjoy our reconciliation, shall we?”

I nodded my consent, chagrined and then a little embarrassed at how readily I always gave ground before his authority.

Before I could stir up more trouble, he went on, “Now to the task at hand. Tell me everything, please.”

I sketched in the details, and as I came to my bargain with Exko, he shook his head in disbelief. “I realize you had few options, but how are you ever going to hold up your end?”

“To be honest — I’m out of ideas. I don’t suppose your books have any, either?”

“At least now we know for certain what we’re dealing with. Is she here? Now?”

I’d grown so accustomed to Exko’s presence since the underground I had to pause. “She is. She can use any words spoken to respond, but that’s it for communication as far as I can tell.” I yearningly searched my companion’s face for answers.

His hand swallowed mine on the table between us, and I looked at him gratefully. “Alright, let’s think this through. If she already killed André to send a message, why does she need another body? Did the message fail? Or is it an ongoing conversation? And to whom is she sending them?”

I felt the now-familiar sensation of walls closing in, and Exko whispered to me in the sudden silence, Ongoing, ongoing, ongoing.

By Allendy’s neutral expression, I could tell he hadn’t heard her answer.

“She says it’s ongoing. Exko? Is it someone dead? Or another immortal? Like a god or a — creature?” I had started to say monster, but I wasn’t sure how she’d take the term.

Immortal, came thrice her echoing and ethereal reply.

“She says it’s another immortal. So then . . .”

“Is there a reason they can’t just meet?” Allendy cut in, thinking aloud. “Why go to all this trouble to send a morbid letter if it’s another immortal?”

A reason, a reason, a reason, she answered opaquely.

We sat in silence for the next few minutes, draining our cups and mulling over the problem. The wind began to rise, and my skin pebbled despite the sun. Leaves skittered across the cobblestones and sought out cracks in the brickwork to secret themselves away for the coming winter.

I was just about to suggest a second glass when Allendy snapped his fingers with zest. “Perhaps they’re lost? Or imprisoned? Or in an altered state, like you are Exko? So you can’t get to them in person. So to speak,” he added hastily.

My ears strained as the world narrowed into Exko’s answer, Lost, lost, lost.

“So what if we found them, instead?” I added eagerly. “Wouldn’t that be better than just sending a message?” I knew I was grasping, but I would try anything not to have to serve up a dead body for Exko’s peculiar idea of art.

Better, better, better, she answered. I knew just the person to help us start our search.