Chapter 30
Night found us moving through no-man’s-land once more.
When Saint Mathieu’s Abbey appeared on the horizon—its broken silhouette black against the star-strewn sky—I felt no relief at returning to what had briefly been our sanctuary.
The place where my flock had prayed, where they had struggled to maintain their humanity despite Gallow’s corrupting serum, now stood as a monument to their absence.
Dupont had traveled ahead of us, arriving with several French troops to establish our cover story. As we approached, I noticed many of Dupont’s men guarding the perimeter. Oddly, it gave me a sense of security. To anyone from the Order, it would appear they remained in control of the outpost.
Dr. Gallow awaited us at the clinic. The smell of antiseptic barely masked the underlying scent of blood that permeated the space. He sat behind a desk cluttered with notebooks and specimen jars, his spectacles reflecting the light from a single electric lamp as he examined us.
“The prodigal subjects return,” he observed, his voice carrying the same dispassionate tone he might use to note an unexpected reaction in an experiment. “Lieutenant Dupont has already briefed me on the mission’s outcome.”
“You mean the massacre,” I replied, allowing genuine bitterness to color my words. The best deception, I knew, contained threads of absolute truth. “The depot was rigged to explode. The Germans knew we were coming. We were the only survivors”
Gallow removed his spectacles, polishing them methodically with a cloth before replacing them.
“A regrettable outcome,” he conceded. “Though I am sure the General will be pleased that the mission’s…
primary objective was met. Though he’d intended fewer survivors—a testament, it seems, to the fact that he’s as much a pawn in our Order’s game as the rest of us. ”
What did he mean by that? Pawns? Had Dupont stuck to the story we’d agreed upon, or had he… elaborated… in ways I hadn’t anticipated?
“What of those who took the serum?” Desiderius prompted. “I must confirm, as you surely suspect, we were instructed by our superiors to refuse it.”
I bit my lip. Desiderius had put more pieces of the puzzle together than I had.
Gallow hesitated, clearly uncomfortable with admitting error.
“I see that now. Considering my experiment, my preliminary analysis given Lieutenant Dupont’s report suggests the serum did precisely what I had hoped.
It produced excessive aggression in the subjects, causing them to charge into the combat zone without caution. .”
“Excessive aggression.” I repeated the words, each syllable sharp with contempt. “Is that your clinical term for what happened to Ruth? To Rebecca? To all the others?”
Desiderius cleared his throat. I caution against continuing my line of questioning.
“Science requires precision of language, Miss Bladewell,” Gallow replied.
“Surely, given your higher orders, you expected as much. Though perhaps our superiors briefed us differently. I’ve learned to trust their wisdom in such matters.
We all had a role to play, and it seems all worked out as they’d planned. ”
I bit back the rage that threatened to overwhelm my carefully constructed facade. “Your serum destroyed my flock more effectively than any German trap could have alone.”
Desiderius squeezed my shoulder. “Which made our final objective easier than even we had suspected when all of this began.”
“When it began?” Gallow asked. “When did this begin for you?”
“Long before you and Gantry showed up to recruit us. Why do you think we’d gathered so many, pacified them with religious fervor, waiting for the opportunity to send them into the Order’s service?”
I crossed my arms, attempting to go along with the ruse. I still wasn’t sure how Desiderius was able to put all the pieces together in a way that didn’t conflict with whatever Dupont had told Gantry before our return.
Gallow’s eyes narrowed as he studied us more carefully. “Yet the three of you—the only subjects who resisted treatment—are the sole survivors. A curious coincidence, wouldn’t you agree?”
“Not coincidence,” I countered. “Caution. We stayed behind when we realized Mercer was leading them into a trap.”
“You claim you anticipated the ambush?” Gallow adjusted his spectacles.
“Not specifically,” Desiderius interjected. “But we recognized the pattern of movement from the German forces. Their retreat was too coordinated, too deliberate. They were drawing our forces deeper into the compound rather than fleeing.”
Gallow leaned forward, his fingers forming a steeple beneath his chin. “And you didn’t warn Captain Mercer of your suspicions?”
“Would it matter?” I asked. “Your serum had made him and the others deaf to anything but the promise of blood and victory.”
Catherine remained silent beside me, her eyes downcast, her posture submissive—exactly as we had instructed her to appear. Her trembling was not entirely feigned; hunger and grief had left her genuinely weakened, adding authenticity to our performance.
Gallow studied her with the dispassionate interest of an entomologist examining a pinned butterfly. “The young one appears severely compromised. She requires blood.”
“We all do,” I acknowledged. “But that’s not why we returned.”
“No?” Gallow’s eyebrows rose. “Why did you return, Miss Bladewell?”
I lifted my chin, meeting his gaze directly. “Because as you’ve already noted, we had orders. Orders that predated your arrival, Dr. Gallow. Orders directly from the Order of the Morning Dawn.”
The claim hung in the air between us, bold in its audacity. Gallow’s expression shifted from skepticism to cautious interest.
“That raises more questions,” Gallow replied, a hint of skepticism befalling his face. “Who gave you your orders? Be careful how you answer, Miss Bladewell. I know those who rank higher than the likes of General Gantry. There are only a select few who could have arranged all of this.”
I hesitated, momentarily trapped by the deception.
I knew enough about the Order to claim membership but not enough to name a specific authority figure who might have directed us.
The silence stretched dangerously as Gallow’s suspicion visibly mounted.
I had to hand it to him, he was clever. He was testing us.
Desiderius laughed. “You wouldn’t believe us if we told you.”
Gallow leaned back in his chair. “Tell me anyway. It may or may not confirm your story, which will play a significant role as to the report I intend to send to the General.”
A confident grin split Desiderius’ face. “Our Orders came from Vladislav himself.”
Gallow flinched, his normally composed features contorting with shock before he could master himself. “Impossible,” he breathed. “Vladislav is dead. Has been for decades.”
“Rumored dead,” Desiderius continued smoothly. “But if you’ve done your homework, and you know who I am, you know I have more than enough reason to know better than you.”
I maintained my composure with effort, though internally I reeled with confusion.
Vladislav? The name meant nothing to me, yet clearly it carried enormous significance to both Gallow and Desiderius.
I had known Desiderius harbored secrets—his centuries of existence ensured that—but I had never suspected he possessed knowledge of figures who both exhibited high-ranking authority and were supposed to have been dead for decades.
Gallow stared at Desiderius with new evaluation, reassessing everything in light of this revelation. “You claim to still serve Vladislav’s interests? After all these years in America, masquerading as a monk?“ His laugh held no humor. “How wonderfully ironic.”
“The Order’s methods have always been complex,” Desiderius replied cryptically. “If you know anything at all about Vladislav, you know he doesn’t make short-term plans. I’ve been playing his hand for longer than you’ve been alive.”
Understanding dawned in Gallow’s eyes, though these insights only confused me further.
I was almost buying into Desiderius’s story.
Had he actually been one of us, on a quest for genuine holiness, or was he truly loyal to whoever this Vladislav figure was?
Not to mention, if Desiderius had served Vladislav longer than Gallow had been alive, Vladislav was either very old or he wasn’t entirely human.
“Of course,” Gallow murmured. “It was never about redemption at all, was it? The spiritual path, the prayers, the guidance toward control—all a pretense to gather vulnerable vampires in one place. To identify and eliminate those who could not be controlled.” He glanced at me with new appreciation.
“Brilliant. Truly brilliant. You orchestrated everything, and you recruited a preacher’s daughter to become the perfect weapon, masquerading as a saint. ”
I felt sick at his interpretation, yet I forced myself to remain impassive.
Let him believe what he would, if it served our purpose.
Let him see conspiracy where there had been only compassion, calculation where there had been genuine faith.
Then again, was there more truth to what Desiderius said than I wanted to believe? Had he been using me all this time?
Dupont chose this moment to enter the chapter house, his uniform now clean and pressed, his injury hidden beneath fresh bandages.
“The Germans are destroyed,” he reported crisply, playing his role with consummate skill.
“I’ve confirmed it myself. The ammunition depot is completely obliterated, along with all evidence of our operation.
Alice, Desiderius, and Catherine completed the mission despite the fact that Captain Mercer fell in battle. ”
Gallow watched this performance with narrowed eyes, but I could see the calculation behind his gaze.
He was being offered a narrative that protected his reputation while explaining the mission’s catastrophic failure.
His serum hadn’t failed; Mercer had simply led the unit into a trap that we three—apparently secret Order operatives all along—had survived by design.
“I see,” he said finally. “I shall report accordingly to the general. He will be... most interested in this development.”
I inclined my head slightly, acknowledging his capitulation while maintaining the fiction we had constructed. “The Order appreciates your discretion, Doctor.”
As we left the chapter house, navigating once more through the abbey’s shadowed corridors, I felt Desiderius’s hand brush mine briefly—a silent signal that we would speak later, when safer from Gallow’s keen ears.
Whatever secrets he had kept, whatever connection he had to this mysterious Vladislav, would soon be revealed.