The Vampire's Angel (59 page)

“I waited far too long to say this,” he said.

Anne’s smile disappeared as she shook her head violently and waved her hand at him. “You don’t need to say anything. I already know.”

“I can’t just leave.”

“But everything you might say either I already know or you did just as much for me.”

“Anne, I need to. You saved my sister. I dragged you into that underworld with Marcel, and you never said a foul word about it or questioned why I involved you. You even accepted a vampire. In all my time with the Catholic Church, you’re the only person I’ve ever met who’s worthy of sainthood. And you literally saved my life. Who else would have abandoned everything to drag me around France? You protected me when everyone else had tired of a drunken priest on the verge of losing his faith. Even Thomas didn’t know what to do to help me. There’s no way that I can ever repay you. I love you, Anne. I’ll always cherish our memories.”

Blood tears clouded his eyes so he stopped. At least he had said it.

“Oh, my abbé, I did some things for you, true, but ‘twas only human, only helping someone that needed what little I could give. But you got one thing wrong.” Anne stoked the fire before sitting next to him. “You gave me as much as I ever gave you. Maybe it doesn’t show as much, because I don’t wear such feelings for everyone to see. It’s a harsh world in which I live, a black woman in a white world. I do my best with the gifts my people gave me in New Orleans. I think it’s all my ancestors would want. But it isn’t easy, this life. Doing the jobs I do to eat and then hiding from the people that want me hidden, all the while others sneak in the back door for my services.

“Did you ever notice, abbé, you and your family were the only people who entered my place through the front door? Did you ever see that I only went to your place outside of my neighborhood? You were just being yourself, but those actions were profound, deeply profound.” Anne fell silent and patted his hand. “So,” she continued, “that’s that. I’m going to cry myself to sleep tonight but I see the sun on the horizon and I don’t want this to be a sad goodbye. We’ve done a lot for each other and let’s leave it at that.”

“I’ll miss you,” Xavier muttered as he cried.

“Abbé, me as well.” Anne laughed again, comforting Xavier with the roar from her belly. “You opened my eyes. I didn’t think any white people were capable of such acceptance.”

“So this is it?” he asked.

“Afraid so. Say hello to Thomas, and you take care of yourself.”

Impulsively, desperately, Xavier grasped for one more thing. “Come with us. I know how to do it. You deserve everything that I have.”

Anne bent over laughing. “Are you asking me to become a vampire, too?”

“It’s not so preposterous. Please?”

“Oh abbé Saint-Laurent, you’ve lost your mind completely this time. I don’t suspect that Thomas would take kindly to a third party following you around. And I’m sure you can’t just go around making everyone vampires. Besides, I think you knew my answer before you asked.”

Xavier had guessed that she would shun the very notion, no matter how much she accepted Thomas and Xavier, and despite her openness to their nature, Anne was too strong to need eternity. She did not fear the afterlife.

Xavier hugged her goodbye. “Yes, I knew.”

“Now you’d better be going. I see the weakness in you as that sun creeps up.”

“I’ll find you when I visit Paris.”

Anne smiled sadly. Xavier’s heart broke. Both seemed to recognize the lie.

The sun had weakened him greatly though its rays had barely started to light the horizon. He had to go or he might not make it to the flat.

Xavier hugged Anne and turned to leave. Then, just before he climbed back to the road, she stopped him.

“You know, abbé, this may be goodbye. But in my faith we do good things and then good things happen to us in return. And people with a connection tend to keep that connection even when separated. We may meet again. When one of us needs it. You may repay me some day for the things I did. You never know how the spirits work.”

Xavier’s eyes blurred with tears as he stumbled toward the road. He hurried toward Paris and, though weakened, would make it to Thomas’s flat—no, their flat—without question.

Yet there Thomas came, hurrying down the road and without a word, he picked Xavier up and bore him across the city. As he went, he softly scolded Xavier for remaining out so long but kissed his forehead and hugged him tightly. Little did he know just how much Xavier needed this embrace at that moment.

11 November 1793

CATHERINE SURPRISED HERSELF, though she had expected to be upset when Xavier came to say goodbye because Thomas was taking him to America. The vows that she and Xavier made to stay in contact comforted her. Still, Catherine thought it odd that she found nothing but joy for Xavier, no sorrow for herself, when she looked across the room at him standing with an enormous grin.

“Catherine?” Xavier asked. “Are you even listening? I’ve never seen you so distracted. I asked if you were still leaving tomorrow.”

“Oh, of course. Jérémie and I wanted to get married first, but it’s rather difficult to find a priest around here. So we’re off to join his family. He’s already arranged a small ceremony.” Xavier looked at the floor.

“There’s no reason to feel guilty. Honestly, in my mind Jérémie and I are already wed and this ceremony is a formality. Jérémie and I understand that you can’t be there. Besides, it’s too late to change it now. We have already killed you and had a burial.”

Catherine laughed, bringing Xavier out of his gloom. Morbid as it seemed, they had waited until after another Parisian battle and had Xavier pretend that he had died during the mob violence. The authorities informed Catherine, so she, Jérémie, and Thomas retrieved the body, and the following day Jérémie and she orchestrated a funeral and buried a coffin full of rocks in the family crypt. They did this so that Catherine and Jérémie, who knew everything, could control the Saint-Laurent fortune. Plus, they did not have to make up excuses for her brother’s disappearance.

“By the way, I saw my tomb. I thought it was a nice touch that you had naked cherubs put on it.”

“Did you like the inscription?”

Xavier erupted into laughter and shook his head.

Catherine had them carve, “May he enjoy eternal life” into the tombstone. Jérémie thought it crass, but Thomas and Xavier enjoyed it immensely.

“This transition is more difficult than I expected,” Xavier said. “I thought it’d be easy once Thomas had convinced Anthony that I could still see you without threatening any vampiric secrets, but I’m used to seeing you daily. That’ll never be the same again.”

“Except when you ran away to seminary or into the wilderness with Anne, remember? We’ve survived separation before. Would it help if we planned our next meeting? Why don’t you visit Jérémie and me in three months? That gives you ample time in America and isn’t too long apart,” Catherine suggested.

“That sounds quite good.” Xavier stopped fumbling with the cross he still wore under his shirt and his shoulders relaxed, his smile lighting up his face. This man, despite the radical changes, suffering, and vampirism, still housed an impressionable little boy inside, full of insecurity who, after all these years, needed Catherine’s reassurance.

“Where will we meet?” Xavier asked.

“I’ll write through Thomas’s agent and tell you closer to the time. Things are still unstable here and I doubt that Jérémie and I will return until this damnable revolution ends, which may take years. Though, have you heard about Napoleon? That he wins battle after battle? The news couldn’t be better, I think. Don’t look so confused. Napoleon Bonaparte. Remember everything that Michel said about him?”

“Oh, yes. He served with Michel.”

“Actually, Michel served under him, long before he became a general. I hear that the troops are quite taken with him and that he may return to lead France.”

“I’m glad to see you so happy,” Xavier said suddenly. “I noticed how perfect Jérémie was for you by the way he followed your orders for packing. He goes about his duties as a finely trained horse and is quite happy to do as you say.”

“Don’t patronize me.” Catherine punched Xavier in the arm. “Isn’t it time for you to leave on some boat?”

They fell silent, usually a signal that Xavier had something to tell her, and after a few agonizing moments, he looked at her, a drop of blood in the corner of his eye. “So I haven’t disappointed you?”

“What are you talking about?”

“You’ve said a million times that you want me to be myself. I’m trying, and I succeed more often than not. But I worry that I took things too far and failed you. Have I fallen too far?”

Catherine hugged him closely. This was his eternal struggle and she doubted he would ever overcome it.

“You haven’t fallen at all. Stop holding yourself to this ideal. Be happy with Thomas and don’t worry so much about what the rest of the world thinks. I love you. Nothing has changed that.”

“Even the vampirism doesn’t alarm you?”

“It comforts me. All these years I worried about you walking around Paris by yourself, and when they started going after priests, I was beside myself. I like that you can finally protect yourself.”

“I have always worried that I wasn’t as good or pure as you and Michel believed or wanted.”

“You are that wonderful, no matter what you say. But there’s nothing to live up to. Just be yourself and this goodness pours out. Now stop being so hard on yourself. You’ve an eternity of living with it.”

“I have to go,” Xavier said. “You promise to write soon?”

“You know that I will.”

“And we’ll see each other at the appointed date?”

“Xavier, relax.” Catherine grabbed his hand. “I love you. Now go. You’d better hurry because I know that Thomas was anxious for you to depart to America. He has already told me everything he wants you to see.”

“He told you but not me?”

“I’m not the one he wants to surprise.”

Catherine escorted Xavier to the door and they hugged goodbye. Despite his moments of doubt, Xavier seemed happier than Catherine had seen him since before he left for the seminary.

11 November 1793

XAVIER’S HEART ACHED at leaving Catherine, but her reassurances and love made it easier, and staying busy kept his mind off it. So he went to the bank to see the man who managed Thomas’s French affairs and whom Thomas had promised could help Xavier with his strange request. Indeed, the banker assured Xavier the previous night that he would do it, though he balked a couple of times at its illegality.

After exchanging pleasantries, the banker raised his eyebrow as he sat behind a desk and put his feet up. Xavier gracefully slid into a chair opposite.

“I don’t have to tell you that this is highly unusual.” The man tapped his fingers together. “If you weren’t an associate of Mr. Lord’s, I’d have dismissed you at once.”

“I appreciate your efforts,” Xavier said, grateful for the help but irritated at the prospect of another lecture.

“I apologize, abbé,” the man said matter-of-factly. “As I said, your association with Mr. Lord is recommendation enough. I’ve just never heard of a secret arrangement that everyone forgot to record, not with matters of this importance. How he was a member of your family and yet didn’t know it until recently baffles me.”

“As I explained, the family prefers to keep the embarrassing matter private,” Xavier lied.

“Your sister—you claim that she forgot where the actual papers are?”

“Typical. She can be a little haphazard.”

“I was under the impression that Mademoiselle Saint-Laurent managed finances quite well.”

“And she does. I don’t mean to be rude, but I really must be off. Is everything arranged?” The banker nodded as Xavier stood and shook his hand. “You’re sure?”

“Yes, sir,” he said and plopped his feet onto the ground. “I altered Marcel André’s finances to reflect the fact that he is actually a member of the Saint-Laurent family. Your sister now controls all his money and property, and will own it upon his death.”

“Thank you.” Xavier bowed and left before the man annoyed him further or detected his nervousness. He was unsure why he had done this in the first place. Catherine certainly did not need the money. It was a game, part of the new Xavier who played with life and wanted total vindication from this fiend who had killed Michel and tried to ruin his family. This little bit of additional revenge made him smile. Besides, Thomas implored him to have more fun when hunting. This was really Thomas’s influence.

Xavier had concocted a story about Marcel suddenly discovering that he was a Saint-Laurent and coming to the family. He described a happy reunion to the banker and, to that end, claimed that Marcel had signed papers for Catherine that gave her control of his entire estate. So unlike a priest, he told himself and grinned. Xavier liked not being beholden to eternal goodness when confronted with wickedness.

24 December 1793

THOMAS RELISHED THE smell and atmosphere of his beloved America. Despite New Orleans not being his home region, its atmosphere reflected the New World’s liberating feel and defiance of European convention, where anyone could blend easily into the people, merchants, traders, sailors, and prostitutes. Even the authorities accepted this existence because they profited from it, came from common ranks themselves, and because there was little they could do to change it even if they wanted. This city was a paradise for thieves, rapists, and all the degenerates that vampires hunt, plus they easily hid the bodies in the wilderness because people died all the time and few concerned themselves with why. Especially in New Orleans, fights happened daily and murder was expected.

New Orleans also assisted him with Xavier. His abbé had learned everything he needed to know about vampirism, and their life together exceeded Thomas’s dreams. Xavier placated his initial concerns by adjusting to the constant murder quickly, though still with occasional hesitation. Thomas loved their contrasting styles. Killing empowered him and he enjoyed inflicting terror upon the fearless and torturing them to death, while Xavier focused on ridding the world of people who hurt others, more altruistic than Thomas’s narcissism.