Michael grinned at me as he watched the vehicle's lights slip over a rolling hill and disappear from sight.  "Crisis averted.  Shall we go out for a late dinner now?"

I nodded.  I wondered where they were taking that man and if I was better off not knowing the facts.  I decided I would ask Michael about it when we ate.  The worst that could happen is he could brush off my queries, I thought.

"I'm hungry, too," Jack piped up.  I had quite forgotten he was there.

"You take the other car and go," Michael instructed.

"But I want to go to wherever you're going," Jack responded with a whining tone and a big grin.

"We haven't decided yet," Michael said curtly.

Jack's grin grew.  "I haven't seen you in almost a year, Michael.  Don't you have time for your son?"

"You're not my son.  Let's go Dylan," Michael ordered in a rather surly tone.  I walked over to the passenger side.

"I'm your blood child, Michael.  Plus, I want to get to know Dylan better."

"Definitely not.  She doesn't need to get to know a fool like you."

"Are you afraid that I'll charm her?" Jack asked.  His grin was so wide it looked like it would bust the sides of his face.  He was charming, but it was in a little boyish sort of way.  I could not help but like him.

"No, obviously not."

"That's not what it looks like," he said teasingly.  I was rather impressed he had the courage to bait Michael after Michael's show of anger.  Perhaps his courage stemmed from stupidity.

"We're leaving," Michael said as he got in and shut the door.  I followed suit.

"I'm hurt, Michael," Jack joked.  "Are you abandoning me out here?"

Michael answered by bringing his foot down on the accelerator.  I saw Jack step back quickly, presumably so his feet would not get run over.  Then we were back on the highway and I watched the scenery go by, rolling hills and clumps of trees and scenic towns.

"Why didn't you want him to come?" I wondered idly, more to break the silence than anything.

"He's a presumptuous boy," Michael commented, apparently as an answer to my question.  Then he spoke again, "What do you want to eat?"

My stomach was protesting the lack of food; apparently it had been so spoiled by Pierre's cooking that airplane fare did not satisfy it.  I shrugged.  "Anything," I said, as I watched the scenery go by.

"Good enough for me," Michael said and he made the car move even faster.  I hung on to the door of the vehicle with white knuckled unease.

I was pretty sure we would be killed if we got into an accident at this speed, but Michael always drove fast.  He was experienced at handling a vehicle at high speeds, I told myself.  I did prefer his driving in a less powerful vehicle.

Horrible images of accidents kept parading through my mind.  The only thing that stopped me from complaining was the idea if Michael knew I was scared, he might just drive faster to scare me.  He was just that sort of jerk. 

It was insane that I could not stop myself from finding him sort of likeable whenever he stopped antagonizing me.

Michael slowed down and we pulled into a driveway by a small building off the side of the highway.  There were lots of flowers and stonework outside and I followed Michael out of the car and into the building.

Inside I found a delightful little restaurant.  The waitress started to ask me what I wanted in broken English, but Michael broke in using his fluent French and she happily lapsed back into the same language, leaving me to wonder what they were talking about. 

She left and I glared at Michael.

"What was that?" I demanded.

"Oh, I just ordered for us."

My glare deepened at his show of paternalistic nonsense.  "I could have ordered for myself."

"It's easier for the waitress this way," he said carelessly.  "Besides, you said you didn't care."

I decided to let it go, this time.  I changed the subject.  "So what was that?"

"I told you, I just ordered," he said innocently.

"I meant that little meeting you had."

"Oh, that."  His face was an unconvincing mask of innocence again.

"Yes, that."  I frowned.

"Well, I suppose there's no harm in telling you."  He lowered his voice.  "He had an odd idea in his head that he knew enough about me to ruin me.  I taught him otherwise."  Michael abandoned his innocent facade and his grin was pure evil.

"He's blackmailing you?" I asked, ignoring the shiver that crept down my spine.

"Not anymore," Michael said cheerily.  I wondered what Michael had said to make the man deteriorate so quickly from confidence to terror.  Had Michael frightened him that much?  It reminded me how little I knew about this man sitting near me, even though it felt like it had been a long time since that first horrible night.

"So how do you like France so far?" he asked.

I thought back to what little I had seen through the car's window.  Beautiful landscape and charming little towns.  "It's nice.  As much as I've seen."  The waitress brought out some drinks.  It was a transparent liquid and I took a sip.  It was rather bitter.  Wine, I thought.

"We'll go into Paris proper tomorrow.  We'll stay here tonight and then head out in the morning.  I've got business, but I'll get Jack to take you shopping."

The thought of being in a foreign country without Michael kind of made me nervous.  I had just seen a demonstration of what a monster he could be, why was I reluctant to be away from him?

He might have noticed my unease, because he added, "Don't worry, I'll give you a weapon and there are plenty of people who speak English here, too, besides Jack."

Like that would make me feel better.  I was about to say something sarcastic when the door opened and Jack whirled in as if he had been summoned by the mere mention of his name.

"What are you doing here?" Michael asked, looking a bit annoyed.

"I'm getting some supper," Jack said.  I noticed the two men from the other car were behind him.  The terrified blackmailer was nowhere to be seen.  I bit my lip.  The waitress came and sat them at another table, but Jack wandered over to us.  "Mind if I sit with you?" he asked.

"Yes, I mind," Michael said.

"You certainly are possessive of Dylan.  What is she to you again?" Jack asked.  His face bore a convincing copy of the innocent expression Michael often employed.

"Just sit down and shut up," Michael said dryly.  I was a little disappointed he did not answer.  It would have been informative for me as well. 

Jack sat down beside me.  When the waitress came over, he spoke to her.  While I could not understand him I could tell by her reaction she found him engaging.

She went off through a side door again and Jack turned his attention to me.  "So, Dylan, how did you come to be here?"

"Uh, Michael changed me and brought me to his island and then brought me here," I said quickly, not wanting to explain the convoluted circumstances.  I felt embarrassed that I was passively following Michael around like a little sheep.  It had been easy to forget on the island.

Jack grinned.  "Sorry, Dylan.  It's just that I find you absolutely fascinating."

"Really?" I asked dryly.

"Yes.  It's amazing.  I've never seen Michael so wrapped up in anyone," Jack commented.

Michael cut in.  "If you can't control your mouth, keep it shut."

Jack grinned.  "See what I mean?  It's positively cute."  I smiled too.  I rather liked it when he gave Michael a difficult time, because it was fun to watch.

"One more word and you're fired," Michael said and I was not sure if he was serious or not.

"You can't fire me," Jack said, not looking even slightly worried.  "I'm too invaluable.  You couldn't get by without me.  And I'm your son."

"Try me," Michael said.  He added in a lower tone, "I got on just fine for a long time before you were even born."

Jack winked at me and said in a stage whisper, "See what I mean?  He's all prickly about you.  He's not normally like that."

I was saved from the conversation by the waitress coming back with some food.

"Ah, the entrees," Jack commented.  A short while later the waitress brought out plates with some sort of mystery meat and put them in front of us.

I watched Michael start eating.  "What is this?" I asked.

"Lamb," Jack told me.

"Lamb," I repeated.  It looked like it might be good, but I had never tried it.

"Just be thankful he didn't order escargot," Jack advised.  "That is truly awful.  The things regular people come up with..." he gave a mock shudder and trailed off mournfully.  The waitress came and set down some sort of fish dish in front of him.

I tentatively poked at my lamb and tried not to think of little lambs playing in meadows while I did so.

"You can order something else," Michael said with what sounded like irritation.

"No, I'll try it," I said and slowly put some in my mouth.  My stomach was aching already; I did not want to wait longer.

It was pretty good, I supposed, so I kept eating.

After we were finished, the waitress brought out some cheeses on a wooden board, which I liked.  Then there was desert and coffee and by the time I was finished I was happily stuffed.

Michael and Jack spoke some more in French with the waitress and then I was herded, like the lamb I had just eaten, up the stairs and into a room. 

They kept talking the whole way.  When I sat down on the bed, I felt a little irritated everyone kept using a language I could not understand in front me.  Both Michael and Jack were fluent in English; it was not as if they could not include me.

Then I noticed my suitcase was already in my room.  I wondered briefly how it had gotten there and then decided I did not care.  Perhaps the laundry ninja had come along on the journey.

I pulled on my pajamas and then slipped into the bed.  It was soft and comfy, so I fell asleep even more quickly than normal.

I was still asleep when there was a knock on the door which woke me up.  I called I was coming and I staggered out of bed towards the door.

An older woman than the one who had served us the previous night stood there and she was carrying a tray that smelled delicious.  "Monsieur Paine had us bring you breakfast," she told me.  Her voice bore a thick accent.

"Monsieur Paine?" I repeated vaguely, wondering who she was talking about.  Was it Jack's last name, or one of the other two men?

"No, I mean the monsieur you came in with."  She looked at me oddly.

Was she talking about Michael?  I said, mostly to mollify her, "Oh, sorry, you just pronounce it differently than I've heard."

"No, not to worry.  You just woke up."

"Yeah," I agreed and she left, giving me another odd expression on the way out, as if she thought I was a little bit slow on the uptake.  I started eating, but while I ate, I thought about Michael.  Was he using a different name here than the island?  It seemed so.  Why was he so convoluted?

I wondered if he was involved in something criminal.  I was curious but it might be wiser not to ask him about it.  It might be best to simply leave it as part of the enigma that was Michael.

When I was finished eating, I showered and got dressed.  I was just about to go and find out what we were planning for the day when there was another knock.

I opened it and Jack was standing there, charming grin on his face.

"Good morning, Dylan.  Did you sleep well?" he asked politely.

"Sure," I agreed, wondering what he wanted.

"Michael has gone on ahead and you'll be travelling with me."

My first reaction was irritation Michael was once again ordering me about like a piece of cargo, but I had grown used to his behavior, so I simply said, "Fine," in a dull tone.

Jack did not seem to notice my displeasure and continued, "Can you be ready to leave in a half hour?"

"Sure."

"Michael also told me to give you this," he said and handed me a small gun.

I looked at it with distaste.  I still did not like guns; despite the fact Michael had bullied me into learning about them with Jay.  I sighed and took the weapon and stuffed it in my bag.  I wondered what trouble I would be in if the authorities caught me with it.

"I'll be back shortly," Jack informed me and then left.  The door swung shut behind him.

I glared at the door for a few seconds after he left.  Then I gathered up my few scattered things and sat down on the fluffy bed and waited for Jack to return.

              
Jack returned almost exactly a half hour later.  He picked up my suitcase and carried it downstairs.  He said something I could not understand to a man behind the desk and then we walked out the door.  It was a beautiful summer's day and I shielded my eyes from the sun.  I watched as he put my suitcase into the trunk of the other smoky grey sports car and then opened the door for me.

"Uh, thanks," I said, as I got in.

He walked around the car and got in the driver's side.  He hit the gas, but thankfully not quite as hard as Michael seemed to enjoy doing.  We pulled out onto the road.

"Where are those other men?" I wondered.

"They went with Michael.  He's got a lot to get done.  He's spent more time on the island the last few years than is strictly normal for him.  I take care of most of his European affairs, but there are certain things he must do himself."

"Oh," I said inadequately.  Once more, Michael seemed so far above and beyond my sphere of existence that it made my head spin.  "What's with the other name that Michael used here?" I wondered.

"Oh, Michael Paine.  That's just the name he's currently using for this period.  He changes his name every so many decades when it becomes necessary."

Michael was just like a chameleon.  I wondered what his true color was.  "What's his real name?"

"He never talks about that," Jack told me.  "Let's talk about something more interesting."  He had a nice voice, I thought.

I glanced at him.  He drove with a subtle elegance.  It was still faster than I felt strictly comfortable with, but compared to Michael's lust for speed, it was positively relaxing.  I could pry my hand off the door.

Then I realized I had been spacing out and had not answered him.  "What do you want to talk about?" I asked warily.

"Let's talk about you," he suggested, with what was probably supposed to be a charming grin, although I felt uncomfortable.  I did not want to talk about myself.

"I've really got nothing to talk about that's interesting," I protested.

"I'm sure that you do, Dylan.  Where are you from?"

"Oh, that doesn't matter," I said.

"Well then, how did you end up like us?"

"Michael turned me."  I really did not want to talk about it and had I not already explained that once?

"When?"

"A couple of years ago," I said.

"So, Dylan.  Is that name your original name?"

"Yeah."

"If you were my daughter, I think I would have named you something like Noemi.  It means beautiful and gentle."  He smiled.  I held in a groan at his over the top flattery.

I decided to distract him.  "Is Jack your real name?"

"Yes, it is."

"Why were you named that?" I asked.

He raised an eyebrow, "Because that's the name the nun that found me on the stoop picked.  It means God is gracious.  She gave us all names like that.  Ironic, really, considering what I am now."

"Oh.  I'm sorry."  I resumed looking out the window.

"No need to be sorry.  You weren't even born yet when any of that happened."

"You don't seem that old."

"Don't be thick, Dylan.  I'm far older than I look."  He seemed amused.

"How old are you?"

"Well, I'm not sure about my exact birth date but it was in the seventeen eighties."

"The seventeen eighties?"  He had to be joking.  I turned to look at him.

He was definitely amused.  "You know that we're immortal, so why is it so shocking?"

"Still," I said defensively.  That meant Michael was even older than him.  I suppose I knew, but it was odd hearing a number put on it.

"But enough about that.  I'm still curious why Michael brought you into the fold."

"Because he thinks I'm amusing," I said flatly.  Probably.

"I think so too.  Michael has good taste," Jack said with a smile.  Was he flirting with me?  I did not know how to respond so I changed the subject again.

"So why did Michael change you?"  I was curious, although I did not want him to know that.

Jack shrugged.  "After the orphanage where I had been left as an infant closed, I ended up on the street.  Then I was rounded up with a bunch more orphans and stuck in a workhouse and then I ended up at a textile factory."  He spoke factually; he kept any emotion out of his description."

Jack continued, "Eventually Michael bought it and took all of us boys out.  He raised us, educated us, and everyone who he thought was promising he changed to be like him."

"Did you all survive?" I wondered.

"No, of course not.  Only I and one other."

I thought back to when Michael first returned for me.  He had said he had not wanted to become attached if I would only die in the end.  It did not seem to fit.  "Why did he not just change you in the beginning?"

"Children never survive the change."

"Oh.  I did not know that. Why don't they survive?"

"I don't know.  But it's probably better that way.  It would be tedious living forever being treated as a child, don't you think?"

"It's terrible so many of you died," I commented.

He shrugged.  "Few of us would have lived past twelve anyway if Michael had not come."  His comment made me feel sad.

I mused about Jack's beginnings for a while and after a short period of silence Jack put on the radio.  It was some French music station.  I listened vaguely.  The words meant nothing to me but the music sounded fine.  Before I noticed what was happening, all the green and towns and notes blurred together and I was asleep.

"Dylan, wake up," I heard a voice say.  The accent reminded me it was Jack.  "We're in Paris."

I opened my eyes and looked out the window.  I felt groggy and my neck hurt from the way I had been positioned in my sleep.  I rubbed at the deep ache in the right side, just under my face and passively watched the number one tourist destination in the world pass by.  I sniffed distastefully.  The tourists certainly were not there for the smell.

"Where are we going?" I asked him.

"Shopping, or would you like a light lunch first?"

My stomach growled as if it had heard him talking and wanted to give its opinion on the matter.  "Lunch," I said.

"Any preference?" he asked.

"Anything edible will do."  I had no idea what was in Paris beyond the Louvre and the Eiffel tower.

"I know a good place."  Jack drove for a few more minutes and then turned a corner.

We wove through streets in Paris until I was hopelessly lost.  The streets look as if they had been tossed down nearly at random in this part of the city.  Likely the roads were from before the common use of cars.

Finally Jack stopped the car and we got out.  I followed Jack into a small cafe and we had a pleasant lunch.  When we were done, I kept following Jack.  I walked beside him, but I was so lost there was no doubt he was leading.  Finally we reached what seemed to be a shopping district.  We walked down a street until Jack said, "This is one of the stores Michael suggested."

He held the door open for me and I went inside.  Jack followed behind me.

"Bonjour!" said a woman's voice.  I turned towards the sound and saw an amazing person standing before me.  She was tall and poised and beautiful with short black hair.  She looked as if she was, or could have been a model when she was younger.  I felt short and plain in her presence.

Jack responded, saving me from having to talk to the intimidating woman.

They conversed quickly and then she turned to me and said with a thick yet endearing accent, "This way please."  I followed her as she led me to a wall of curtains.  I noticed Jack had followed as well and she turned to him, "You may have a seat over there, monsieur."  She indicated a small seating area with unusual looking chairs.  Then I followed her past the curtains into the area beyond.

Once inside, I was measured and then told to wait a moment.  She drifted off out of my sight and I stood there awkwardly as I waited.

The woman came back into the room and then I was subjected to trying on a number of outfits and shoes.  I started thinking about other things while I was dressed like a doll, about books I had read and about the people back on the island.  It was odd having my clothing selected by someone so silent, I was used to Tara's nonstop chatter and the lack of it made me feel more out of place.

It also reminded me Tara had wanted a souvenir.  I wondered if it would be all right to bring her back something on Michael's bill.  He would not notice anyway.

"Do you think you could pick out something in a size eight?" I asked the woman.

"Size eight?  But you are—"

"It's for a friend.  Something trendy."  It sounded like something Tara would want.

"Yes, I will do that, mademoiselle."

"Thank you."

Finally it was over and we left the store with a number of bags filled with a huge amount of clothing.

"We'll go to the car and drop this off, before we continue," Jack said.

"Do we have to?" I asked.  I was already more than tired of shopping.

"Well, I guess I could carry them with us," he said.  He sounded unhappy.

"No, I meant can we quit shopping?"

"You don't want to shop anymore?"

"Exactly," I said.

Jack smiled with amused good humor.  Then he turned towards me and asked, "Then what do you want to do?" 

Though he was nowhere near as handsome as Michael's less awful version, I could not help but notice that he was attractive.

I smiled.  "What were we going to do after shopping?"

"I was going to take you to get set up in the hotel."

"Let's do that then."

"Okay."

Jack led me back to the car and he loaded all of my bags into the trunk.  We got in and he started threading the vehicle through the streets.  I passively watched out the window again.  There was no point in paying attention in Paris, because I knew I did not have the slightest hope of ever knowing where I was going. 

As we drove, I saw people who looked like they might actually live in the city and many other people who looked like tourists.

Finally Jack pulled the car into a parking area and we got out of the vehicle.  I followed him into the hotel lobby.  He spoke with a person behind a counter and then he turned to me, handing me a room key.  "Your room's on the tenth floor, Dylan.  Ten twenty-nine.  I'll have your things brought up."

"Okay," I agreed.

"I'll show you to your room," he offered.  I wondered if Michael had told him how prone I was to turning myself around.

Although I wanted to refuse I did not.  I did not want to get mixed up again.  I would pay careful attention to where we were going in here.

We got onto an elevator on the far side of the lobby and rode up.  My room was quite close to the elevator.  Even I could not get lost getting there.  Probably.  I opened the door.

Before Jack left, I asked him a question.  "What does Michael have planned for today?"

"He'll be back to have supper with you.  In the meantime, if you need anything, go ahead and call room service."

"Thanks Jack," I said.  I felt he had been quite helpful and I had enjoyed the pleasant absence of mockery.

"My pleasure, Dylan."  He smiled and I felt kind of warm.  He left and I shut the door.

The room was quite luxurious; it was obvious we were staying in a nice hotel.  It probably cost a good chunk of my monthly rent from my old apartment to stay for just one night.  I rolled my eyes.  Michael was overindulgent.

Because I was not sure how long we would be staying, I did not bother unpacking my things.  I simply stuck them all in the closet and then inspected the room.  I made a note to find out what Michael had planned for me when next I saw him.

I figured I would not be interrupted so I decided it was the perfect time to take a bath.  I spent the afternoon pampering myself and reading.

I was dressed in one of my new outfits, a dress with matching strappy heels.  I left the heels lying on the floor for later.  No reason to torture my feet before it was necessary.  I lay on my stomach in the middle of the bed and continued reading until I heard a knock on the door.

I was quick to answer it, because I was hungry and maybe, just maybe, I was a tiny bit eager to see Michael again.  I did not want to admit that to myself.

I opened the door and there he was, looking just as perfect as always.  "Are you ready for supper, little girl?" he asked me.

I smiled at him.  "Yes, I am, old geezer," I responded, but without any real vinegar.  It had been a long time since I had felt blazing anger at Michael

"Do you have any objection of just going to the hotel restaurant?" he asked.  "I'm tired."

Was this Michael admitting to human weakness?  I was shocked.  I shook my head in response.  I was sure the food in this hotel would be wonderful.

Michael led me to the elevator and I was pleased to note I knew exactly where we were going.  We went down to the ground floor and he led me to the restaurant.  I paid close attention.  I may have not known where I was in Paris and in the wider world, but at least I could know where I was in the hotel.

When we went inside, Michael made his way to a private area.  Once there, a waiter brought us menus and spoke to Michael quickly.  I picked up mine and looked at a bunch of vaguely familiar words mixed with the completely unfamiliar.  I gave up almost immediately.

"Are any of these chicken?" I asked Michael.

"Here," he said, pointing to one.

When the waiter came back we ordered.  The waiter took the menus and disappeared, then returned a short time later with a bottle of wine and poured two glasses.

"How was your day?"

"It was good," I said without enthusiasm and took a sip.  This wine was less bitter than what I had drunk the previous day.

"Do you like your room?"

"Yeah, it's great.  They thought of everything."

"Good.  This is mine," he told me.

"Really?" I said, surprised.  "This... hotel?"

He grinned sardonically.  "Yes."

"I didn't know you were into this sort of thing."  No wonder he had so much money.

"I have any number of businesses," he said with deliberate nonchalance.

I did not know what to say to that, so I changed the subject.  I would think about the many mysteries of Michael later; for now I wanted to know what was coming.  "How long are we staying here?"

"For a week," he told me.

"So, what am I doing tomorrow?"

"Do you want to see the sights of the city?  There's that Eiffel Tower you're so anxious to see," he suggested with a teasing grin.

"Ha ha.  Very funny," I said; my voice dripped sarcasm.

"There are many other sights."

"I suppose that would be nice.  Is there a library?"

"You're such a book worm, little girl."

"I meant a big, impressive, famous library," I said.

Michael laughed.  "You may do whatever you like while you're here.  I'll have Jack escort you."

"Will you be busy?" I asked, wondering what he would be doing.

"I've got a lot to do."

At that point the waiter brought our food and my stomach was quite satisfied.