The Vampire's Angel (18 page)

By now, the bishop was weeping as he shivered. Thomas marched to a desk, snatched a parchment, and thrust it at him, who obeyed every command. He wrote three letters: one for his official files, one to the Vatican, and one to Xavier, apologizing for his mistaken condemnations and instead praising the young priest for exemplary service. Thomas took them when he had finished, sealed them with the bishop’s emblem, and slid them into his coat pocket.

“You have what you want. Leave me,” the bishop said.

“Do you understand what I mean to do if this isn’t the end of it? Leave him alone entirely. Do I make myself clear?”

“Go away. You’ve won.”

Unconvinced that the bishop grasped the severity of his threat, Thomas grabbed the foot of the bed and broke it from its hinges. The mattress crashed to the floor and the bishop rolled to Thomas’s feet. He cried and quaked anew. Swiftly, Thomas reached and broke the man’s little finger. Nothing overly violent, but enough to solidify his point, and, as the man howled in pain, Thomas smashed through the window and jumped two stories to the ground. The bishop peered out as Thomas sauntered away, laughing on his way to the saloons.

That was more fun than he had had in ages, losing himself in power and scaring unscrupulous individuals. He was also proud of his controlled temper. Xavier’s first mention of the bishop enraged Thomas to want to kill the fiend, but then, as he played with the bishop’s fear and discovered the failed sexual tryst, he wanted to behead the man. But Thomas tempered his emotions and handled the situation with restraint.

Now, to celebrate. Time for a kill.

As usual, people crowded the bars and drank, gambled, had public sex, and railed against Louis. This perfectly tawdry scene would surely produce a worthy victim or two. Thomas entered an establishment and took a seat. Nothing unusual caught his eye. No one longed for his fangs to end an unseemly life, until he heard a familiar voice. He turned, slowly, and saw Marcel seated nearby and talking to the likes of whom Thomas never wanted to even touch. They stank of men hired for dirty, illicit, and violent tasks.

Here was a group of worthy victims. He could kill all of them, including Marcel, and rid himself of a major problem. Then, against his will, Thomas remembered those damn ethical guidelines Anthony pronounced with such conviction: never meddle in human affairs. Killing Marcel, even in this setting, violated this principle. And he had already gone too far in violating the ethic with this visit to Notre Dame.

Frustrated, Thomas listened. They were making a deal and even tried to sound like shrewd entrepreneurs, but their tone betrayed a darker arrangement.

“You’re fine gentlemen, as always,” Marcel was saying. “I hardly believe that you dispatched that customer so quickly and cleanly. I appreciate your efforts on my behalf—”

“Enough talk, old man, get to the point,” said one of the men. His breath hit Thomas from two tables away, stinking of tobacco, rum, and a gross assortment of decay.

“Don’t take that tone with me. I’ve no fear of you. I have a spying assignment this time. There are two men you must watch for me. Why is none of your business, but this is more important than any previous job. I need to know their patterns, their friends, and their beliefs. Discover any weaknesses, any material for blackmail, anything that they conceal. Try to find out where they keep their money and when they sleep. I must know anything and everything about both of them. I want you to monitor the two Saint-Laurents. One of you watch Michel, the other take Xavier. Do you understand?”

“Yeah, we don’t need a long story about spying. How long do you want us to do this?”

“Until I tell you to stop.”

“That’ll cost you,” the other added.

“I’m well aware of your prices and, believe me, this is worth the cost. I’ll expect a weekly report, at this place and in person. One more thing. There’s one occasion upon which you must abandon your spying: never go near their sister. When they visit her, walk away.”

How was Thomas to obey the ethic with this news?

Marcel described Michel and told them where to find him and Thomas pictured the route to Xavier’s church as Marcel gave it to the other man, describing him, as well.

But Thomas let Marcel leave, against his better judgment, as the rules haunted him. He did follow the other two, however. He had witnessed and sensed enough to know that killing them would not violate the ethic, at least not as much as if he had gone after Marcel, who was intimately involved in the family. These two had never met anyone from the family, so Thomas decided they stood outside the ethic’s prohibitions against intervention. They walked a few blocks, singing drunken songs, clearly proud of the coins that Marcel had given them, then entered a saloon with rooms for rent. Thomas stayed close behind when they entered their room. He waited a few seconds, then burst in as they counted their money.

In a complete fury, he first grabbed the one intended to spy on Xavier. He barely noticed the terror on his face as he crushed the man’s skull between his hands and he paused as the cranium crunched like a sea shell and gore exploded all over the room. He dropped the corpse and swore softly. He had waited too long. The second man had escaped the room and his screaming brought other patrons into the hall to see about the commotion. Thomas kicked the dead body before he swiftly went into the hall, and vacated the building. He could not risk going after the remaining man as he stood among all these onlookers. Instead he went to feed, once again hungry for blood after several nights of depriving himself.

26 June 1789 Early Afternoon

XAVIER ADMIRED THE fine furnishings of the Saint-Laurent home, especially the latest items that Catherine had chosen, as he waited for his family. Thankfully, he knew the reason for their meeting. Louis’s troops had arrived outside Paris, and the city was abuzz with the news. This meant things would change drastically. Xavier soon heard Michel’s authoritative steps before he marched into the room.

He hugged Xavier tightly. “Are you safe?”

“Of course. What’s wrong?”

“Things are horrifically unstable. I worry about you and Catherine.”

As he said her name, their sister swept into the room. “Can you believe all the military surrounding our city like an occupational force?” she asked as she kissed each of them.

“Where’s Jérémie?” Michel asked, reminding Xavier of his brother’s latest request. Jérémie was moving into the Saint-Laurent house until further notice. Catherine told him that Michel arranged this for her protection, which at first irritated her, but before she had rejected the idea she spoke with Jérémie and relented. Xavier figured Catherine would at least appreciate the company, since she liked Jérémie.

“He’s here,” Catherine answered.

“There’s rioting in the countryside. The country is incredibly unstable.”

“That’s old news.” Catherine tossed her hand, waving Michel’s pronouncement aside.

“I mean that a revolution is inevitable. You both have to protect yourselves. I see that you hid the valuables, Catherine, an excellent decision. You both should stay near the house or church more often. And, Xavier, stop ministering at the prisons, especially the Bastille.”

Xavier sighed. Michel could be so dictatorial. “Those prisoners deserve my services as much as anyone,” he countered.

“This isn’t a time for your moral superiority. That place is a symbol to the angry citizens of what Louis does to his people.”

Thankfully, Michel turned to Catherine. “You’re sure that Jérémie came to the house?”

“Why on earth would I lie about that?”

“I’m sorry. I just need to know.”

“Yes, Michel, he’s here, in my office.”

“Is there other news?” Xavier asked.

“What else do I need to tell you? There is going to be a revolution. Louis is paralyzed. He does nothing. People riot every day. France is in chaos. Are you both being careful?”

The words chilled Xavier. His brother, always the rational, calm one, seldom jumped to conclusions or concerned his family for no reason. “I swear, I’ll be careful,” Xavier promised.

“And you, Catherine?” Michel asked. “Will you stop being foolhardy?”

Xavier practically felt the rumbling before she erupted.

“Do I need an army of men to protect my virtue? I know about the danger. When my friends criticize Louis in public I withhold my opinion, but I won’t become a prisoner in this house.” Silent anger filled the room as Catherine paced the floor and turned again to her elder brother. “How dare you think that I’ll change that now?”

As Catherine ranted, Xavier listened with dismay until Michel shot out of his chair and stormed out. He and Catherine stared after him.

“I suppose that I’m too hard on him,” Catherine finally said, calm.

Xavier could not help but chuckle. It was meek, bold, defiant, and humble all at once. Classic Catherine.

“He always wants his men to watch over me. I don’t need some man lording over my every move.”

As these words escaped her mouth, Jérémie entered the room.

“Jérémie, Michel thinks I need armed guards everywhere I go, but I think your staying here has pacified him. You’re like a brother to me. Thank you.”

“I’m not sure that I want to be a brother if I receive the same wrath,” Jérémie said dryly.

“You’re a brother like Xavier,” she corrected. “Kind, gentle, and loving, not like the ogre who just left.”

“How about more wine?” Xavier asked. He went to the bar and began uncorking a bottle to distract his sister from her tirade. Thankfully, Jérémie changed the subject to the revolution and thus ended the latest sibling quarrel.

27 June 1789

XAVIER ENJOYED THE fresh air as he waited for Michel. He wondered about his brother’s mood after storming out of the house last night, and he assumed Michel would still be domineering. A light breeze blew as Xavier smelled the flowers and looked at his finely kept garden.

The minute he saw Michel riding through the mud on his horse and the dark expression on his brother’s face, Xavier knew that Michel’s mood was much worse today. Michel dismounted, tied his horse to the fence, and marched to Xavier as if he were a general over Catholic priests.

“Good morning,” Xavier said, hoping to defuse Michel’s temper.

“May we go inside to some place private?” Michel asked.

Without responding, Xavier led them into the sanctuary and beyond, to parts of the church that even he seldom visited. They passed a couple of elderly women who cleaned the church, nodded, and went on their way. These back rooms were dimly lit even in the daylight, and they afforded total privacy.

“I come on the king’s business,” Michel said. “He’s made an announcement that will affect you.”

Xavier slumped into a chair.

Michel did so as well, but sat erect, still the officer. His medals and uniform insignias spoke of his success and the reverence that he held for this duty.

“Louis has ordered all clergy to join the Third Estate. Even the nobility must join. He’s trying to appease the masses.”

“Will this stop the revolution?” Xavier asked, numb.

“Will you obey?”

“Do I have a choice? I’ll do so willingly if it helps the people.”

“Your allegiance should be to the king,” Michel said.

“You know what I meant. I’m loyal to him, too.”

They fell silent and Xavier shifted, uncomfortable, thoughts reeling at these new developments.

“I’m glad that you have decided to listen to me,” Michel said finally. “But I have other concerns. I’ve heard, and I can’t divulge my sources, that you and a nun do secret ceremonies. You must stop for your safety. Do you understand?”

“I’m not a child, Michel.” Xavier shot Michel an angry stare. “Keep your secret informants, hire spies to follow me, but I’ll continue ministering to these people regardless of the threat. Do you ever consider your arrogance? You risk your life every day in the army. But that won’t stop you, even if Catherine and I pleaded for you to protect yourself. Why is my occupation different?”

“This isn’t the time to challenge Catholic authority.”

“Stop it.” Xavier pounded the arms of his chair.

Michel jumped up. “Don’t you care about your security?” His voice was harsh in the closeness of the room.

“What does that have to do with serving these people?”

“What about the other things that you do? One of my soldiers is from your parish. He and his mother glow with admiration when they talk about you. But he recently told me something more disturbing.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Your lover.”

Xavier sat, dumbfounded. Lover? Did he mean Thomas?

“Don’t look at me like an idiot,” Michel said. “How could you let others see you with him? How could you defile our name publicly?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Xavier lied.

Michel leaned in front of Xavier and put his hands on his brother’s knees. His face was no longer red and he looked lovingly into Xavier’s eyes, though the priest fumed. Michel ruffled Xavier’s hair and pulled their foreheads together. Then he almost whispered, “I don’t care about your affairs. I apologize. But you have to be careful, for all of us. I’ll never forgive myself if anything happens to you.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” Xavier again lied as tears flowed.

“I have to go,” Michel said. “And you leave me no choice. I’m ordering you to stop the private rites and never go out in public with this man.” Michel strode out of the room with those words.

Xavier was embarrassed, angry, confused, sad, and humiliated. He bitterly resolved to change nothing. It was none of Michel’s business.

He was still weeping when a soft knock sounded at the door. A woman’s voice said from the other side, “Abbé, there’s a man here for confession.”

Xavier quickly wiped his eyes and thanked her as he raced to the confessional. He relished the opportunity to hide from his reality and deal with another’s suffering as he slid into the booth, opened the screen, and addressed the individual.