The Vampire's Angel (53 page)

“Of course you are, of course.”

“Listen. You’re the kindest, gentlest, soul I know. I mean, deep inside of you is a wonderful being. I was lying here, waiting for the Lord to take me, and He gave me a message. You may not believe it, you can think it’s mad, but I really believe this came from Him.” Maria paused, breathing heavily. The blood had slowed. “First He said that you’d live. I didn’t believe it. I told Him I saw you lying in blood, but He said you’d live. With all that you offer, an eternal life for you may preserve goodness so that you can work your magic forever. He told me that. Go to Thomas and live so that you can continue our work. I trust you, human or vampire, more than anything. This is what the Lord wants me to tell you.”

Xavier cried violently. He did not want to hear this. Not another dead beloved, not now.

“I can’t ki—” he started to say it. The one thing that held him back, when he realized that he had killed. Just now, a moment ago he had murdered the one monster left inside.

“That’s just it,” Maria continued. “You told me you can’t kill. But you also claimed that Thomas told you about an ethic that allowed killing. Be merciful. Don’t make me suffer any longer or see this anymore. It hurts. And then, knowing that killing me is the right thing, go forward and know that you can murder if it makes this world safer for the innocent. Help me now by ending this and in doing so find the strength to go to Thomas. I was told this in my vision.”

Maria gasped out the last words. Her chest heaved and blood dripped from her lips. But she was alive and might survive for some time, perhaps until others arrived, and then the shame that she so feared would begin.

Do it for her. Swiftly, he got out from underneath her, hurried to his father’s den, took down a pistol, and loaded it. He ran back and sat beside her, caressing her head. He leaned over and kissed her forehead, saying “I love you.” Then he stood, stepped back, and pulled the trigger.

18 October 1793

THE FRONT DOORS to the Saint-Laurent home stood wide open with no visible guards, and Catherine heard a loud gunshot so she ran down the street startled, climbed the stairs, and hurried inside.

Maria lay on the marble floor, naked, bloodied, and with hardly a face because a bullet had ripped through her head. Catherine had never seen anything so ghastly, and Xavier wavered above Maria with a pistol. Catherine fought her panic and controlled her emotions, telling herself again and again that Xavier could explain this scene.

“What are you doing?” she asked, fighting to control her emotions.

He hesitated, swayed, and dropped the pistol before standing immobile. Had he gone mad? The nearby dead guards told her otherwise. Something awful had occurred and only Xavier was left. She went to him, slowly pulled him away, and asked what happened.

“They came in.”

Hearing people walk by outside, Catherine hurried to the doors and bolted them shut, then she ran through the house, pulled every curtain, and locked every door from inside. Xavier had disappeared by the time she returned to the foyer but she easily found him in the living room, closing the drapes. He cried a little but underneath lay a determination Catherine had never seen. Rather than mourn or lose his senses, he helped her conceal the attack.

“What happened?” she asked.

“We don’t have time. You’re still in danger. I’ve no idea who ordered this or why. Perhaps it was random or sent as a warning, but if anyone finds this we’ll be incriminated. Come on.” Xavier tugged her along. “There are bodies everywhere,” Xavier said, still in shock.

They hurried to the servants’ quarters and gathered cleaning supplies, an unspoken communication telling them to clean the house and bury the evidence.

Catherine took control as her brother froze. Though it nauseated and horrified her, too, she more easily disengaged and went into action. They first explored the second floor but found nothing but destroyed furniture. Then they went to the first floor and dragged the bodies to the wine cellar. They returned upstairs and cleaned everything. They scrubbed the walls, the floor, discarded broken furniture and did their best to make it look as if nothing had happened. Halfway through, she ordered Xavier to take a bath and get rid of his clothes, though his black and blue face would still give away an attack. She was especially appalled to find a glass shard sticking out of his head and marveled that he had survived at all.

When they finished this floor, they turned to the gruesome basement. Thankfully, the family crypt lay deep in the ground, deeper even than the wine cellar and nuns’ quarters. One by one they moved the bodies, cleaned the stone, and repaired the damage. Again they worked until finished, amazing Catherine at how they had concealed the crime completely. It had taken hours, and the sun was setting as they finished.

Sheer will had propelled them as they worked without pause. Catherine had not noticed her exhaustion until now, nor had she registered the danger and pain around her. Finally finished and seemingly safe, she grabbed Xavier’s hand, forced him to lock the tomb, and headed upstairs. She needed three things: wine, to hear Xavier’s story, and Thomas.

Strangely, tears eluded her. Perhaps her mind shut out the pain to protect her by using calculated reason. Why did anyone think that the brutality would skip their lives when all of France crumbled? Or had Michel’s death and the near loss of Xavier numbed her beyond repair?

She poured two glasses of wine, reopened a curtain to watch the sun set, and sat down. Xavier shook but otherwise controlled himself. Without prompting, Xavier launched into his tale and told her everything that had happened. He explained hideous details, his response, and every emotion. Though clouded with sorrow, his voice was composed.

“How are you? You look fine, but is that possible?” she asked.

“Surprisingly,” he answered.

“What does that mean?”

“That you expect an emotional collapse, perhaps running away or something even more drastic. But none of that is crossing my mind.”

Catherine considered Xavier, looked deep into his eyes for shock, but thought him more numb, like her, than anything.

“Really, I can’t explain it to you,” Xavier said flatly. He got up and slumped next to her, sipping his wine and holding her hand. “I know I should be outraged and my senses shut down. But this was predictable. The more that this revolution persists the more I lose faith in humanity. Don’t worry, it’s not some morbid dissent, just an awakening to evil. I spent too much time in my life searching for purity.”

“How can you have no feelings for Maria?”

Xavier’s eyes filled with tears. “I do. Her humiliation, fear, and pleading for death will haunt me forever. Do you think I can ever forget that only I was there to pull the trigger, that in all of this I killed two people? I had to act the part of God and became executioner to an enemy and a friend. I’ll never forget that.” He looked out the window and paused. “But I have to continue with life. That’s what she wanted and that’s what I’ll do. And you?”

It almost sounded too simple, but its very simplicity convinced her of its truth. Catherine had braced since childhood for the moment when Xavier would confront a harsh reality that collapsed his world. Ironically, she wondered if his discovery about Thomas had eased the transition.

“I’m not sure what else to say. I can’t describe it.” Catherine ran her finger around the rim of her glass. “I’m numb. We’ve watched the guillotine execute too many, mostly innocent, to the point that we expected the worst. So this was predictable, in a strange way. Does that sound mad, do you think?”

“Perhaps to an outsider, but it’s what I tried to tell you.”

“You know,” Catherine continued, “that we can’t tell anyone.”

“Naturally.”

“Of course we’ll tell Thomas, but otherwise it’s our secret. Yet another irony—that this heinous crime turns us into the criminals, though representatives of this evil government actually did the killing.”

“They’d frame us,” Xavier added. “And deny it and accuse us of the murders, or at least me.”

“They destroyed the security of our estate and made it into a mere home again. We no longer threaten them and only the two of us really know about it. I doubt that the fiends who did it even know how many they killed or why they were here. Besides, one of them died and that will only make them quieter. I suspect that they’ll hardly miss him, anyway, and would be more embarrassed by the fact that a nun killed him.”

Xavier nodded and fell quiet. “Do you believe me?” he asked after a long moment.

“I believe every word.” Catherine hugged him.

Xavier got up in silence, paced the room, then knelt before Catherine. He wept and choked on the words, unable to speak, so Catherine said it for him.

“You’ll go to him. Whatever that means. You’re going to him. He may whisk you away and demand that you not return, I’ve no idea. But don’t hesitate because of me. Even if I lose you I’ll be happy to see you liberated. Knowing that you’re with Thomas is all the comfort I need.” Catherine, too, wept.

“I don’t want to abandon you. I won’t leave without saying goodbye. I promise.”

Without responding, Catherine led Xavier to the hall, hugged him tightly and kissed his forehead before opening the door for Thomas, confident that he alone could take care of her youngest brother.

18 October 1793

XAVIER STOOD IN the Saint-Laurent foyer, now scrubbed completely clean without a trace of the crime that had happened but hours ago, and stared at Thomas, whose expression was one of horror when he saw Xavier’s face and then glanced at Catherine, asking what had happened without saying a word.

Catherine kissed Thomas’s cheek. “Forgive me, I must attend to other matters.”

“What are these bruises all over Xavier?” Thomas asked, as if Xavier were not standing in front of him.

“I have to go. Ask him. Come for dinner tomorrow. I’ll talk then.” Catherine hurried down the hall and slammed the door to her office.

Thomas stared at Xavier, as if searching for an answer.

“What has happened to you?” Thomas seized Xavier and ran his fingers across Xavier’s scalp and the wound that still throbbed, then carried Xavier into the parlor. “Are you hurt anywhere else?” he asked after he placed Xavier in a chair and examined his wound again.

“No, Thomas, listen—”

“I’m sorry. I don’t know how you’ll respond to this, but I insist.” Thomas turned Xavier around and groped through his hair again. A few seconds elapsed before Thomas’s fingers ran across the cut, applying something wet and warm. When he finished, Xavier’s head no longer hurt. Returning to face Thomas, Xavier asked what he had done but saw the cut on Thomas’s arm as it healed itself before him. Thomas had healed him with his own blood.

They sat quietly before Xavier collapsed into Thomas, hugged him tightly and finally sobbed. Yes, he wanted to continue with life, yes, he understood what had happened, but the grief still overwhelmed him and Thomas’s arms comforted.

He purged himself of guilt by telling Thomas the entire story, remembering the horror confirmed for Xavier that he and Catherine had done the right thing. It especially convinced him that he was right to assist Maria, no matter how much he had hated it. Xavier feared that Thomas would think him evil and so elaborated every detail until Thomas stopped him with an embrace and assured him that he believed every word. Then Thomas asked to take Xavier somewhere private.

Before leaving, Thomas further checked the house and surrounding area and called for more guards via a passing boy whose eyes lit up when Thomas showed him ten golden coins. Thomas gave him directions to Xavier’s parish and described the man he wanted the boy to get. Thomas waited for Denys and a couple of men to arrive to protect Catherine, paid the boy another handsome sum, and then instructed Denys to secure the house.

Outside, Thomas lifted Xavier and away they went. Xavier could not tell if they literally flew above the ground or if Thomas just ran that fast because of the velocity and grace with which they arrived in the countryside and at an abandoned barn. Xavier shivered in the cool night before Thomas wrapped his coat around him and sat him in the loft, on top of hay and near a window. The moonlit field in front of them swayed in the wind, the quietest, most peaceful scene Xavier had witnessed since his days in the seminary. Thomas sat behind him with his legs around Xavier. Then he pulled Xavier back to rest against his chest.

“Can a vampire stop what happened?” Xavier asked. “Could a vampire have stopped what happened today?”

Thomas hesitated. “Not in the daylight.”

“If I become one, I want to know what I can and can’t do.”

“Xavier, explain these questions to me.”

“I killed today,” Xavier said matter-of-factly.

“You told me about Maria. That wasn’t murder.”

“I killed someone else, too. He was left in the house, wounded, after everyone left. When I saw what they had done I lost control and jammed glass into him until he stopped breathing. He was unconscious but alive, totally defenseless, and I executed him.”

“You did the right thing,” Thomas said. “What do you want me to say? I’m shocked. It’s a side of you I never saw. I would have protected you if I could have—”

“That’s not what I meant,” Xavier interrupted.

“Then what?”

“I’m trying to tell you that I’m not deranged despite what you might think.”

“I have never questioned your sanity. I want only to ensure that you’re not concealing something from me, or yourself.”

“That’s what I’m trying to explain. I haven’t become some callous beast. I killed him and Maria, something I never expected I could do, but I know it was right.” Xavier stopped. “This is all wrong.”

Xavier pulled away and walked farther into the barn. All his words sounded contrived, which was no way to ask for Thomas’s love. Xavier covered his face and cried, finally able to pursue his dreams, freed of the religious constraints, he had mishandled the moment. Thomas quietly retrieved him and guided him back into the hay and engulfed Xavier in an enormous hug and kissed the top of his head before they turned their heads to face one another.