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“Rue Paul Riquet, Beziers, France.”“Notre Dame, Paris, lunchtime tomorrow! Probably walking over one of the bridges to get there. A bridge close to a café or restaurant!” exclaimed Esmerelda.Harry leant in to kiss her, “It’s their way of checking that the person replying is a legitimate devotee. Walking over the bridge might give them a way to check who it is before they meet them. How many of these messages do you get Delilah?”She shrugged, “About one a week, I used to write them down but we gave up years ago trying to understand what they meant. Do you think ‘him’, I mean Dominic, can understand them?”Harry shrugged, “Well, they did not tell you this code did they? And you could not break it could you?”Delilah frowned, “No, they did not. They thought we were his accomplices.”Harry blew out his cheeks, “Well, it’s possible he might. I think if the devotees keep a list of where people are they can check as they move about by sending messages to each other. They can communicate. " This said with a big grin and a small giggle. No one else wouldcall me Yvie so utterly innocently, like girls together. Much as I mightwish others would, there was usually a bit of reserve, a knowledge thatok I might be now, maybe, but that wasn't always true, was it. Cheryl had been the one from the first day to make me feel welcome. Ittook maybe half an hour before I became Yvie instead of the Yvonneeveryone else used, not that I minded that, either way. At least nobodycalled me Tynan anymore. The dark one and how true that had been when Ihad come out to the extended family that Christmas several years ago. A few simple words about personal belief and future and... Jesus, thechill that had hit the room as the evil spirit floated in. The near totalsilence after the almost constant mad bubliness of a few seconds earlierwas just nuts. Even the kids that had no clue stopped as the atmosphereengulfed them.An aversion of eyes as my own mother turned and walked out of the roomlooking.
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