Chapter XII. First and Last and Always #2
“‘Boucher. Wulfric smiled, warm as a taverne hearth on a rainy night. A pleasure to finally make your acquaintance, good Baron. May God bless and keep you.
“‘Ah, of course, the mysterious M. Boucher, the Baronne smiled. Patron of our priory, I had so hoped you would come. Abbess Remillaud speaks highly of your piety.
“‘And my purse, I am sure. Wulfric chuckled with our hostess, kissing her proffered hand. Baronne Durand, this is my wife Aleks, my son Percival, my daughter Celene.
“‘Oh, aren’t they darling.
“‘Merci, madame. Wulfric bowed, hand to heart. We would thank you and your husband humbly if you would invite us into your beautiful home.
“‘I caught the inflection in my master’s words, the soft glaze that came over the Baron’s face as the stolen gifts of Wulfric’s countless victims took hold.
Not for the first time, I felt envy that such power was his, and that envy was only enflamed as I glanced to Aleks, barely a trace of death’s hand left on her skin.
Such boons might also be mine one night.
But thus far, Wulfric had given no clue as to when I might be offered communion, and stand beside my fellows as Liathe of the Esana.
“‘But of course, Baron Durand bowed. All of you, please enter and be welcome.
“‘My master smiled. And simple as that, we walked inside. You might think it odd, that in nights after the Forever King took Vellene, sacked Lucía, burned San Antoine to ashes, that four vampires might gain ingress to such a house. But long had the lords of Elidaen ruled unchecked, and comfortable upon their thrones had these mortals become. Even in those years, it seemed impossible the Golden Host of Alexandre III and the Silversaints of San Michon could not halt the march of the Dead. Though now excommunicated, my own brother had slain great Tolyev at Crimson Glade; the Dyvok crusade for Ossway shattered upon the Black Lion’s blade.
Surely it was only a matter of time before the Ironhearts tasted defeat.
And so, the wealthy did what the wealthy always do in such times; raise taxes, send poor men to the walls, and throw a party.
“‘But such a party. It was … astonishing, Dior. The doors to a grand ballroom parted before us, a rush of sensation tingling over my skin. Hundreds of bodies, all the city’s finest in attendance.
The women wore gowns of gorgeous velvet and sumptuous satin, men in military uniforms with honors glittering upon their chests.
Music drifted over a dancefloor crowded with warm bodies, a sea of masks.
Pale porcelain and papier-maché, leather and lace, a thousand hidden faces and mine hid among them.
None looked twice at me—just another jewel in a treasure chest brimming.
And looking up at Wulfric, I squeezed his hand.
“‘Merci, Master.
“‘For what, chérie?
“‘I can be free here. I motioned around us, that ocean of bodies and masks. If only for a night. For the first time since I fell to darkness, I feel almost … normal.
“‘I did not bring thee here to hide thy nature, Celene Castia.
“‘Wulfric nodded to the balcony then, ruby lips curling.
“‘I brought thee here to embrace it.
“‘I followed his eyeline, at last finding the death-pale beauties at whom he stared.
They were four in number, mingling among revelers on the mezzanine, each finely frocked and impeccably coiffed.
A dark-skinned Sūdhaemi in a coat of gold, another monsieur from what might have been Talhosti stock—black curls and blue eyes and a scarlet ensemble.
A fine-boned Ossian woman in sky-blue velvet, and an Elidaeni beauty to round out the group; blond hair and alabaster skin, wearing an astonishing gown of sheer black satin.
Their fangs were hidden behind their voltos, but they were easy enough to spot—cruising among the luminaries of San Yves like sharks among paddling toddlers.
“‘Aleks growled behind her mask, little Percival chuckling.
“‘Two Dyvok, a Chastain, and an Ilon walk into a ball …
“‘I glanced at him sidelong. I did not think kith of one line mixed with others.
“‘They be lovers, Wulfric said. Bonded by blood into a hellish ménage à quatre. They arrived seven nights back from Madeisa. They hath already murdered a dozen innocents, and slaved the master of House Gauthier, of whom they are guests this eve.
“‘Wulfric nodded to the Elidaeni lass.
“‘The Ilon is thine, Celene.
“‘I glanced up at him, dead heart thrilling as I finally grasped his meaning. The reason he had brought me here. After years of waiting, of wondering …
“‘Happy First Communion.
“‘Fangs sharp against my tongue, I looked at the vampire above. Ash blond. Crimson lips. Curves I would never possess. Though she was beautiful, gliding through the revelers like smoke, I knew she was a blight upon the innocent. A murderess in midnight silk. But in gifting her death, I knew I’d ensure her eternal life, keeping her soul safe within my immortal shell. I was afire with the thought, filled with the flame of God, the unshakable conviction that this was a holy act. But somewhere in the lightless corners of my mind, I was also aware of how communion had healed Aleks, made her as she’d been before death.
And hand rising to the silk-smooth porcelain that covered my ruined face, I breathed.
“‘Merci, Master.
“‘A crowded chapel, Percival said. In which to pray.
“‘Wulfric nodded. We make no play here. These four are wilier than our former prey.
Though they hath slaved M. Gauthier, they abide not in his estate, and the familiars of the Chastain, here he nodded to the Sūdhaemi vampire, laughing among a passel of well-heeled mademoiselles, hath kept mine own eyes at bay.
When festivities are done, we will shadow them to their nest, and take them in their beds.
The Chastain for Percival, the Dyvok for Aleks and myself.
The Whisper be youngest. Weakest. He looked to me, a small smile at his lips.
Small bites to begin, chérie. That is … if ye feel thou art truly ready to join us?
“‘I looked at she who would be my victim. Illia’s teachings ringing in my skull, heaven’s choir in my ears, breathing through what remained of my lips.
“‘I am ready, Master.
“‘So be it. I doubt our prey shall be so foolish as to hunt here this eve, but should they do so, do not interfere. If we misstep here in full view of the city’s luminaries, the life we hath built shall come crashing down swiftly around us.
“‘Aleks cracked her knuckles in her silken gloves. Véris.
“‘Wulfric kissed her hand then. Walk soft, my liathe. And with the Lord.
“‘Aleks smiled, stalking off through the throng, Percival in her wake. I adjusted my mask, intent to follow when Wulfric’s voice stopped me in my tracks.
“‘Celene.
“‘I looked to him, devil’s face, angel’s smile, his gentle hand on my shoulder.
“‘There be no room for sin in a heart filled with the fire of God. He is watching.
“‘I nodded, jaw clenched. Judgment Comes.
“‘I made my way through the revelers, small enough to move without a ripple. I avoided the eyes of hungry seigneurs, begging off one young beau’s attentions with murmured apologies.
I was wending my way up one of the grand stairs when the Talhosti kith passed by on the way to the dancefloor, a beautiful lass on his arm.
He glanced my way, but I gave no sign, slipping among the revelers like a knife.
Reaching the mezzanine, I lifted a goblet of wine from a passing tray, leaning on the marble railing.
My face was to the dancefloor below, as if entranced with that sea of bodies.
Yet from the corner of my eye, ever I watched her; this Whisper, this sinner, this vampire who would be my first.
“‘She did not look old, and my master had said she was young in the blood. But she stood among a circle of much older folk and I saw she held them all entranced. Again I thought of Aleks remade, and pressing my hand to the scarf about my throat, I asked myself what it must be, to be beautiful. As she was introduced to a smiling seigneur, I caught her name—Victorine—and I wondered who she had been before she died. This was God’s will, and his fire still filled me; I was saving her soul, after all.
But a part of me wondered, had this Victorine been wicked in life?
Did she truly deserve the end I would bring?
“‘And then, I saw who she spoke to.
“‘He was attired in the red of his house, blond hair bound with black ribbon, blind eyes hidden by spectacles of azure glass. As the vampire leaned in and whispered, Laurent laughed and touched her hand, brimming with the newfound worldliness our nights together had instilled. It seemed his father had seen the same; my songbird no longer locked in his cage. Beyond raising funds for the war, I realized this soiree was intended to introduce the future Baron of San Yves to society, his mother now chatting amiably with the silk-clad murderess, who placed one cold claw on my sweet Laurent’s arm.
“‘And that holy fire in me was consumed by rage.
“‘Such beautiful music, Victorine sighed. I would love to dance.
“‘Laurent’s smile was sad. I fear I’d make a poor partner, mademoiselle.
“‘However, my son is an excellent musician, the Baronne smiled.
“‘Laurent groaned. Mama, please …
“‘Oh, truly? Victorine looked deep into his eyes. Would you play for me?
“‘My piano is upstairs, mademoiselle, I—
“‘My stomach rolled as she pressed upon his arm with her touch, upon his will with her blood, looking to the Baronne and batting long, soot-black lashes. Please?
“‘Go along now, Laurent, his mother smiled, décolletage flushed under the vampire’s gaze. Play for Mlle Victorine. Yours is a gift from God; it should be shared.