Chronicles of Darkness: Shadows and Dust (28 page)

         "That's all that happened,"
the officer finished.

         "Zut alors!"
Michel cursed improperly. "And the D'Ardenne twins are still at the
theatre?"

         Another man answered him,
"Just now, we received a message that the girls have been at the theatre
since nightfall. They are constantly under surveillance, but nothing unusual
has happened."

         "Strange,"
Michel thought aloud. "I could have sworn..." he couldn't complete
his sentence, because one of his men nudged him, pointing at the house.
"There! Monsieur Dutroit, look! His accomplice is leaving the
building."

         "She seems to be in
quite a hurry."

         The police men watched
Chalice, who looked carefully around, before entering her carriage. "What
shall we do?"

         Michel didn't hesitate.
"Fast! Follow her! Now she will lead us to
him
!" Then he
glanced to the empty house. He thought he detected a face behind one of the
windows, but it was gone in a flash. "I will join you later. Right now, I
need to check the house, if everything is as it should be." He spoke like
he had been hypnotized.

         The last present officer
asked, "Do you want me to come with you, Monsieur Dutroit?"

         "No, that is not
necessary. I will be with you shortly."

         "Understood!"
The last police man left and Michel crossed the street. Dazed, he walked
towards the house, uttering, "I have to go."

*****

         Hurriedly, Kyrian put the
note book back to where it belonged, into Helena's coat pocket. He had heard
her approaching the library. Taking the French book his sister had left behind,
he sat down in one of the armchairs. As Helena entered the room, he pretended
to be completely engrossed in the text.

         The huntress had wrapped
a warming blanket around herself and hid her long, blonde, still wet locks
underneath a roughly woven towel. She took a seat opposite her son and pulled
the woolen blanket tighter around her slightly shivering body. Her eyes fell on
the book in Kyrian's hands and she couldn't suppress a small laugh.

         With an innocent gaze,
Kyrian looked questioningly over the rim of the yellowed pages.

         "My son, is that a
new way to read?" Helena asked, grinning widely.

         The young man drew his
brows together. "Mama?"

         "Your book. It is
upside down," she explained and chuckled.

         "Oh, I didn't
notice." Kyrian blushed slightly and put the book aside.

         "Kyrian, I have to
ask you something..." his mother began.

         "Well, go on,"
came the restrained answer and Kyrian waited.

         "Your friend...
Christine. What do you know about her?" Helena asked straight forward.

         "You know about
Christine?" His face grew even redder.

         "I am your mother...
and a well educated huntress."

         Kyrian regarded her
suspiciously. "Why do you want to know that? For what do you need this
information?"

         It was obvious Helena had
raised a subject that didn't sit well with her son, but she continued.
"Well, just call it curiosity of your loving mother. You are spending a
lot of time with this girl."

         It came as a shock to him
that she knew about his meetings with Christine. "Is there anything to say
against it?" Kyrian responded, a bit snappy.

         "No. I just wish to
get to know her better. The young lady and I have not been introduced properly
yet."

         Kyrian thought hard about
what he should tell his mother. While he was searching his brain, he realized
that he truly didn't know anything about Christine. Neither where she lived,
nor what she was doing or anything about her family. He didn't even know her
surname.

         His long silence was
enough of an answer for Helena. "You don't know anything about this girl,
do you?"

         "So what? Why is
that so important?" he said in annoyance.

         "Why are you so
angry?" Helena asked in her calm way.

         "Because I feel like
I'm being interrogated! Do I ask questions about that Michel?" the young
man shot back impudently.

         "Hereafter, I don't
want you to ever meet that girl again," Helena said without answering his
question and in a tone that allowed no contradiction.

         Kyrian didn't care about
it. "What? Why?!" he exclaimed loudly and leapt from his armchair.

         Helena took a deep
breath, trying to keep her calm. She wanted to tell him about the occurrence
and searched for the fitting words. "I saw her..."

         Angered, he cut her off,
"So what? That doesn't mean..."

         "KYRIAN!"
Helena had also gotten up and raised her voice. She grabbed her son's shoulders
and shook him slightly. "Christine loafers around the
Quartier Latin
at night! I saw her there, shortly before the vampires attacked me!"

         "I don't believe
you!" he responded defiantly, shaking off her hands. "It was dark and
there are hundreds of girls, who have light, blonde hair like Christine does.
Who knows what you have seen!"

         "Kyrian! Come back
to your senses. These are poor excuses. You're obsessed with..."

         "This time, I'm the
one who doesn't wish to finish this conversation! I will go to bed! Good
night!" he growled irascibly and stomped out of the library.

         Helena knew it would be
of no use to follow him now. Dejected, the huntress sat back down. One lonely
tear fell from her eye and rolled down her cheek, while the words of one
vampire echoed through her mind,
'You... your children... you all will
die... it... is... inevitable...'

           
"Just how am I
supposed to protect you?" she asked into the silence of the room.

*****

         The residence was cast in
darkness. Weak moonlight, which shone through the big windows, brought some
pale, gray light to the rooms.

         Carefully putting one
foot in front of the other, Michel moved forward, groping his way. After the
police chief hadn't found anything suspicious on the lower floors, he went in
direction of the stairway. The steps were covered with thick carpet, so his
boots didn't make any sound as he moved to the upper floor. He had pulled back
his coat and his right hand was resting on his pistol. Listening intently for
any sound, the police chief walked along the long corridors, always careful not
to betray his presence with a noise. Frowning, Michel thought,
'Nothing. I
can hear absolutely nothing. Still, I cannot shake off the feeling that I am
not alone.'

         Suddenly a strange voice
said, "I can hear you."

         Caught off guard, Michel
whirled around and scanned his surroundings, but couldn't see anyone.
"How... how is that possible?" he said to himself.

         "You are breathing
too loud, my dear Michel."

         Shocked, he turned around
but still there was nobody.

         "I am here..."
the deep voice announced.

         Michel swallowed hard.
Then he demanded firmly, "Stop this nonsense and come out!" He
listened and watched carefully for awhile, but nothing happened.

         "I'm in your head,
my dear Michel", the voice mocked.

         To prove said statement,
his head started pounding strongly. Tortured by horrible pain, he fell to his
knees and held his skull with both hands. The pain stopped as fast as it came
and Michel rose from the floor. Now more determined than ever, he continued his
search for the perpetrator of the strange occurrence.

         He reached the door where
Chalice had been standing not too long ago. Feeling nausea rise in his body,
Michel said, "I can feel coldness. Pure evil is waiting for me, behind
this door." Michel shook his head and added, "Alright, enough with
the weird talking. I have a treacherous murderer to catch." Just as he was
about to press the handle down, it moved on its own and the door opened a bit.

         "Scary," Michel
gasped. Icy coldness streamed from the room and the police chief hesitated,
uncertain.

         The air inside was heavy
with the strong scent of opium, oppressing him. His ears picked up the deep
bass voice, which he had heard before. "Please, come a little
closer." The doors flew open wide and mechanically the police chief
entered the room. The big doors shut behind him.        

         The heavily decorated
parlor was pregnant with smoke and the man needed a minute to orient himself.
As his eyes fell upon the scurrilous scene, he didn't know what shocked him
more; the tall, bearded man, who lay there on the couch, grinning widely, or
the fact that he held one of the seemingly dead D'Ardenne twins in each of his
arms. Michel wasn't able to move. The sight was more than his mind could
handle.

         His opposite was calmly
running his hands through the young nobles' locks, curling the fine strands
around his fingers. Their naked bodies were clearly visible beneath their thin
robes. The fine silk stuck to their breasts with dried blood, their gazes empty
and staring ahead.

         Azrael broke the silence.
"Is that what you had hoped to find, my esteemed Monsieur Dutroit? Police
chief of Paris." A superior smile formed on his face. He kissed the dead
girls' pale cheeks before he let go of them.

         "Disgusting
monster!" Michel screamed in outrage, appalled by the impertinence Azrael
was showing.

         "Well, well, well,
my dear Michel. Do not forget your good manners. We are in Paris. We should
relish our time here and have fun whenever we can. Besides, you truly are very
impolite. You didn't even ask for my name."

         "I guess there is
nobody, who can compete with your impertinence! You have terrorized the
population, spread fear and horror, and murdered innocent girls in the cruelest
ways possible!" Michel collected his thoughts and then continued,
"Thank God, that's all over now!"

         Azrael turned his eyes
upward, as if looking towards heaven, only to cast his eyes back to the police
chief, his gaze contemptuous.

         "Mon Dieu! So get it
over with reveal your name!" Michel demanded, annoyed.

         Excited about the
question, Azrael bowed and announced proudly his full title. "Count
Azrael, the First from the Serpentes' Clan. That is what I like to call
myself."

         "That is what you
like to call yourself?" the police chief repeated in a trance.

         The vampire stroked his
beard and cleared his throat. "I do not allow everybody the honor to know
my real name. I guess you know the one that the papers here in Paris have given
me...
Heart Taker
. I think this description fits quite well."

         "Which is your own
fault. The evidence of your guilt lies in this room. The D'Ardenne twins were
your last victims, I personally will make sure of that!"

         Azrael sighed. "I
hope you are done, my dear Michel. Unfortunately, I do not have all night to
talk with you. Even though it actually would give me great pleasure to discuss
the basics of good and evil with you."

         "I've had enough! In
the name of the King, you are under arrest!"

         "Indeed,"
Azrael replied in a bored tone.

         "Well, do you come
willingly or do I have to use force?"

         "Let me think about
it for a minute. Um, well, my dear Michel, I think you may have to
try
to use force."

         Exasperated, the police
chief shouted, "What kind of game are you playing?!"

         "Why, mine of
course," Azrael answered calmly. "There is but one person, who could
spoil my fun, here in Paris."

         "Me?" Michel
asked a bit surprised.

         "Oh, please, do not
make yourself so important. Of course not you, my dear Michel." Azrael
circled the man, like a predator its prey. "No, I am talking about Madame
Leosol." Eagerly, he waited for Michel's reaction, who did exactly what
Azrael thought he would. The vampire had to grin.

         Michel's eyes widened and
he shouted, "I don't know how you came up with this fine lady's name, but
she has nothing to do with this at all!"

         "She doesn't?"
Azrael countered. "I think you are not up to date."

         "What... what...
what does that mean?" Michel struggled to regain his composure.

         "Oh, she didn't tell
you?" the vampire asked with pretended sympathy. "How shall I put
this... um... we are old acquaintances of hunting." Again he waited
anxiously for Michel's reaction.