The Vampire's Angel (52 page)

Though Anne usually struck Thomas as blunt, she acted as a politician quite well. He wondered if this was in preparation for the item that she had promised Xavier was on its way from America.

“Ridiculous.”

“For Jérémie. It could prove you right, after all. What’s the harm in that?”

Catherine glared from Anne to Jérémie, then shrugged. “I suppose.” Catherine took a pouch from Anne and listened to her instructions for taking one scoop of the powder with wine once a day.

“Do it for a couple of weeks,” Anne said. “Then we can talk. If nothing changes by that time I’ll apologize and take it back. It may take some time. He’s a powerful one, that Marcel. You do this a couple weeks and we’ll see how you’re feeling.”

Catherine shook her head slowly. “It won’t change a thing,” she said stubbornly.

“Then there’s no harm in doing a favor for a friend, is there?”

Catherine rolled her eyes and sighed. “Very well. But only because Jérémie has been a very good friend for a long time.”

With that, Jérémie withdrew from the room with Anne.

“Will you take the potion?” Thomas asked Catherine. “I mean, really do it and not pretend?”

“Yes,” Catherine answered. “To prove that nothing will change. I don’t want to risk their finding out that I did nothing and then hearing again and again about some silly spell.”

Thomas changed the subject to avoid the topic and get at his personal interests. “I don’t suppose that Xavier talked to you?” he asked.

“No. He came back the night that you told him about the undead thing, whatever you call it, absolutely irate that I knew about you and hid it from him. I fretted that he was going back to some dogmatic religion, and for a time it seemed that he tried. Now he walks about as if nothing has changed in all these years since he met you. He acts as if you’re simply dear friends who spend time together. Don’t be embarrassed, but he did share that you had intercourse. Is that what you call it with two men? At any rate, I know the depth of intimacy you share, but beyond that I’ve no idea about his intentions. He loves you, that much is painfully obvious, but he says nothing else.”

Catherine said this all in one breath, thus returning to her usual self. Thomas chatted with her a while longer but learned nothing new about Xavier. He finally bid her good night and went to find his abbé.

16 October 1793

THE REVOLUTION HAD changed greatly in the last month, all for the worse, but Xavier’s feelings had altered little, as a battle raged inside his head. One side insisted that he run away with Thomas and learn to kill evil people, while the other instructed him that he could never bring himself to murder, regardless of the victim. Xavier cherished that Thomas came each night because he did love this man. Each hour together convinced Xavier more and more that the vampirism had nothing to do with it, which he finally confessed to Thomas. And the sex was wonderful. Xavier never imagined such utter bliss and wondered how he ever thought the celibate life of a priest could hold him forever.

Today, to try to forget, Catherine, Maria, and he headed out to see Paris and assess the general climate. They were but a few blocks from the house when Xavier realized it was the same as the day Robespierre took over. Fear governed Paris. One after another they passed the guillotines, thankfully silent, and often saw armed thugs harassing people.

The public nature of the executions bothered Xavier even more. They became events, not deaths, and people actually lined up to witness the latest head come flying off a body. Xavier almost vomited the day that he saw citizens picnicking in front of the guillotines and watching the murder as if it were high theatre. Hawkers plied their wares in front of the scaffolding, selling wine and biscuits to the throngs who gathered for a little “thrill.” Others placed bets on the order of execution as they watched the poor souls wait for doom.

The three strode through the streets silently until someone said that Marie Antoinette had been executed.

“Good Lord,” Maria gasped and crossed herself. “They’re utterly mad.”

“Stop talking about this in public,” Xavier admonished, too late.

“Mademoiselle Saint-Laurent, yes?” a uniformed officer asked.

“Yes,” Catherine said.

He tipped his hat and thanked her without saying a word.

Xavier was alarmed, but took solace in Catherine’s calm demeanor. Though she still insisted that Anne’s counter-potion did nothing, she had agreed to continue with it for another month, and in the last few days, Xavier noticed a change in Catherine. Nothing dramatic, but before, when he had mentioned Marcel’s name, Catherine fawned and vehemently defended him. Now, she ignored all conversation regarding him. More than that, he maintained his trust that Anne had a plan to purge Marcel’s spell on Catherine but had not received the needed item from America yet.

As Catherine launched ahead, Xavier fell back with Maria, thinking of his mistake in trying to return to the Church. He had little passion for religious work. He could never go back to being the former priest who pretended all was well while his stomach churned in agony. Maria sensed this, and though she never challenged Xavier, she harped on Thomas and even suggested that Xavier tell her where Thomas lived so that she could do away with him.

Maria, as if on cue, said, “Thomas is Satan, Xavier, and I’m glad that you work for God again.”

“Maria, he’s not evil.”

“There’s something sinister in that man. You’re better off in the Lord’s service.”

“I told you, and I know you don’t want to hear this, but I’m not returning to the Church. Nor will I ever, because it would be hypocritical.”

“Blasphemy. Thomas puts those depraved thoughts in your head.”

“No, Maria, they’re all mine.”

She grunted and trudged ahead, but it irritated Xavier more than usual so he stopped. “What is it?”

She turned around. “What do you mean?”

“Why the dogma? Why stay in that church?”

“I stay because I made a pledge that I intend to keep.”

“To whom? You hate the Roman authorities as much as I do.”

“To God.”

“But not to the Catholic God. You’ve said so yourself.”

Maria stalked back to Xavier. “We all need something to guide us, and I don’t understand why you insist on denigrating what is important to me. Can we leave it at that?”

This befuddled Xavier. What did she mean? He agreed, on one condition, just to make peace. “I will agree if you stop berating Thomas.”

“That’s different.”

“I mean it.”

She shook her head slowly, her face red, but he had her trapped.

Unfortunately, their renewed silence gave Xavier time to think. He loved Thomas. He wanted to be lovers and marveled that such a thing could even exist. He had heard only of brief encounters and sexual escapades before this, yet Xavier could not reconcile this remarkable opportunity with the killing. Whether or not for survival, even if they only murdered the debased, Xavier could not imagine taking life.

The sight of a guillotine almost relieved him as the soldiers readied it for an execution because it took his mind off Thomas, at least until he saw the blankets on the ground, the vendors selling beverages, and peoples’ smiles. Xavier questioned all that he believed about mankind. What if wickedness were just as common as purity? These decapitations proved that something evil lingered in the people of Paris who watched the beheadings as a sport.

Unable to cope, Xavier waved to Maria and ran through Paris, bumping into people and nearly sick, not stopping until he finally reached home, where he threw himself on his bed. Perhaps, instead of cleaving to the righteousness of humanity, he needed to see a more complex picture, with faults, some good people, and, yes, some bad. Once again his world spiraled out of control. He escaped into sleep, and though early in the day, he drifted off to dream of better things.

18 October 1793

TWO DAYS PASSED since Xavier had questioned mankind’s goodness. He had talked to Thomas, and though Thomas thought his new interpretation correct, he gently entreated Xavier to decide for himself. Xavier, of course, came to no solutions and instead tried to avoid the decision by spending his time on errands for Catherine, but the idle moments crept up on him nonetheless. In fact, he was sitting in his room, agonizing, when he heard screams and shouts at the door. With Catherine and Jérémie gone for the day, Xavier had to see about it, so he ran down the stairs in time to see four thugs, dressed in uniforms, smash clubs over the heads of two guards and storm into the foyer.

“We hear this house don’t support our government,” one said.

“And we hear that nuns are harbored here,” another shouted.

“I don’t know what you mean,” Xavier lied.

“Out of the way.” With that, he shoved Xavier to the ground and the four rampaged through the first and second floor, destroying artwork, overturning tables, and assaulting anyone who got in their way. Xavier followed them, but they continued to shove him aside, the officer who had asked Catherine her name the other day among them. Knowing that they meant to harm Maria and the other nuns, Xavier slunk toward the basement. When out of view, he ran down the stone steps and into the dank cellar.

Too late, however, Xavier realized his mistake, for one of them had spied Xavier leaving and was close behind. To keep him from Maria, Xavier stopped in the wine room and turned to go back upstairs. If ever Xavier had wished for Thomas it was now, but the sun was up.

“Who is it?” Maria called.

The fiend grinned, strode toward Xavier, and before Xavier could do anything smashed his fist into Xavier’s face, causing Xavier to crash into a wine rack and crumble to the ground.

Xavier had no idea how long he lay there, but he awoke in a pool of blood, his head aching though he otherwise felt unharmed. He checked to see that the bleeding had stopped as he slowly got up. It took a few moments to gain his senses, to recognize the wine cellar, and to recall what happened, as he looked around and saw overturned racks and smashed bottles. One of the fiends lay in a corner with a piece of glass sticking out of his head. He still breathed.

Then Xavier panicked. Where was Maria? When the room stopped spinning Xavier went toward the hallway that led to Maria’s rooms. He stopped, bent over, and vomited.

There was a nun’s dismembered body, naked and torn limb from limb, her head smashed against the wall and unrecognizable. Without a choice, Xavier cautiously headed down the hall but heard nothing as he stepped around the flesh and blood splattered everywhere. His heart pounded.

In the first room he discovered another nun, tied naked to a bed, her body intact but her head hung limply. She, too, was dead. The soiled sheets told him that they had raped her before breaking her neck. Again he vomited as he progressed and found one after another of the nuns naked, murdered, and bloody.

Now he cried, his head whirled, and then he thought again of Maria. Where was Maria?

As he walked back toward the cellar, rage infused his soul. Tears streamed down his face and mixed with the dried blood as he seethed, letting his fury take control in the wine cellar. Without hesitating, he picked up a sharp piece of glass, lunged at the bloodied man in the corner and repeatedly stabbed him in the chest until his breathing stopped. Dead. Killed. Murdered.

For the first time Xavier understood justice, which his theology had lacked. The sense that God punished those who sinned. He spit in the man’s face and continued his search for Maria.

His body ached as he climbed the steps. He noticed a trail of blood. Not a small amount or drops here and there, but a continuous stream two feet wide and thick. Xavier stopped, toppled over, and heaved again. He knew this blood before he reached the upper hallway and saw Maria lying face down, unable to move farther.

“No, no, no,” he said. He knelt beside her still breathing body, lifted her head onto his lap and cradled it in his arms. His body convulsed into sobs as he held her tightly. She bled profusely between her legs and her head was black and blue, yet slowly she opened her eyes. At first she recoiled until she recognized Xavier, then she rested her head back on his legs.

“Xavier,” she barely whispered. “I tried to stop them,” now she coughed up blood. “I got one of them in the cellar.”

“Shh, Maria, shh. I’ll get a doctor.”

“No,” she said loudly, laboring to breathe. “Stay with me.”

He obeyed.

Maria cried. “I thought they had killed you too when I went by your body. They have killed everyone, all of us. And the shame. They raped us.”

“Shh, save your strength. Please don’t die. I know what they did. We’ll catch them.”

“I don’t want to live.”

“Shh, you’ll heal. I need you. I already lost Michel, I can’t lose you, too.”

She shook her head and called him closer. “Abbé, listen to me. I hope you know that I always loved you. You were my best friend.”

“I know. I love you, too. Now please be quiet.” Xavier wanted to deny her next words.

“I can’t live with this humiliation. There’s no way that I can go on. Don’t call the doctor, Xavier, please take me away.”

“You don’t mean what you say.”

“Yes, I do. All you need to do is stab me. They’ll never know it was you, but don’t make me live through this disgrace. I’ll probably die anyway. I don’t want to survive just to relive this over and over.”

“What about your faith? You can’t give up on your faith now. Suicide is forbidden.”

“That’s why you need to do it, and give my final rites.” More blood came from her mouth.

“This is ludicrous. I can’t do it.”

Maria closed her eyes as if to gather strength, her voice serious but not angry. “I wasn’t always right. You know that better than anyone. I tried to do the right thing but it didn’t always happen how it should. Please don’t hold that against me. I’m not delusional. Don’t mock me for my past and continued faith. I just need to know I’m going to a better place.”