by Ariel Tachna
“I don’t need anyone to make me do anything,” Adèle retorted, hackles rising. “It was that kind of condescending attitude that made me hate Leighton so much. I didn’t take it from him, even if I understood where his attitude came from. I’m certainly not going to take it from you!”
A reverent murmur went through the room, forestalling the rest of Adèle’s rant, although from Raymond’s contrite look, he would have apologized before it went any further. Alain Magnier and Orlando St. Clair had arrived. To Adèle, they were friends, fellow veterans, and more proof of how good a partnership could be, but she had spent enough time around vampires not involved in l’émeutte des Sorciers to know how they were viewed by the wider vampire community. The brand on Alain’s neck, proof of a different kind of bond, set them apart and gave Orlando near mythical standing within vampire society. As striking as they were together, Orlando dark and slender, Alain fair and broader through the shoulders, Adèle suspected they would turn heads even if they did not have the Aveu de Sang to set them apart.
When they reached the head table, they greeted everyone, ending with Adèle, before taking their seats. “How did the meeting with Anne-Marie go?” Raymond asked.
“She said to tell you that you could have your job back whenever you wanted it,” Alain said with a grin.
“Oh, no,” Raymond said. “I served my time as president of l’ANS. That’s her problem now.”
They all laughed, Adèle included. L’Association Nationale de Sorcellerie, the non-profit organization that campaigned for the rights of all magical beings, had fallen into Raymond’s hands at the retirement of the previous president, Marcel Chavinier. Raymond had, in turn, retired from the post with the opening of l’Institut six months earlier. Anne-Marie Valour, his successor, was doing a good job from what Adèle could see, but she tried to give Raymond the job back at least once a month.
Yawning, Adèle drove toward home, her thoughts all in turmoil. So far she had resisted Raymond’s blandishments to try her magic on the vampires who completed l’Institut’s educational seminars, but sometimes, especially on nights like tonight, when the partners around her seemed in a particularly affectionate mood, she wondered what her life might be like now if she had paired with someone different. It would always be her choice. Raymond could not coerce her into creating a new partnership bond. The whole point of having the seminars was to make both sides aware of the commitment entailed in forming a partnership, but she also knew he could not understand—not really—why she would not want it again, knowing what it meant. How could he, when Jean worshiped the ground he walked on, a feeling he clearly returned?
In the darkness and silence of her own bedroom, she could admit that she had not hated every minute of it. Most of it, but not all of it. Leighton, damn his black soul, had known how to touch her like none of her previous lovers had dared. She had fought him—and left him—because his attitude toward her was intolerable.
Shaking her head at her wandering thoughts, she yawned again, focusing on the road in front of her. As she rounded a bend, the beams of her headlights caught the slender form of a woman perched precariously on the edge of a bridge across one of le Morvan’s many ravines. Slamming on the brakes, Adèle grabbed her wand, jumping from the car and casting a spell on the woman to keep her from jumping. The woman’s arms continued to move wildly. Adèle cursed under her breath. She had felt the magic leave her. The spell had gone where she intended, but it hadn’t worked.
Stomach churning, Adèle recognized the irony that she had just been thinking of the only other person her magic hadn’t worked on, but she did not have time to worry over the implications at the moment. She could not let the woman jump. Changing her tactics, she cast a spell on the bridge itself, raising a barrier between the woman and the ravine. “Come down,” Adèle urged. “No matter what it is you think is so bad, it isn’t worth killing yourself.”
“I’m already dead,” the woman shouted back. “The fucker killed me and then instead of letting me die, he forced his blood down my throat and made me into a monster.”
“Who?” Adèle asked, walking slowly toward the woman. “Who hurt you?”
“I don’t know his name. He appeared out of the darkness, grabbing me as I opened the door to my house.” The words came out in short gasps. Adèle wished she could see better in the darkness, the headlights from her car creating crazy shadows.
“He dragged me behind the garage and bit me.”
Adèle could sympathize with that feeling. Jude had grabbed her and dragged her into alleys, empty rooms, and any other private place he could find to feed from her whether she agreed or not.
“I could feel myself getting weaker and weaker, and then instead of letting me go, he tore open his wrist and forced his blood down my throat.”
Adèle shuddered. She had seen the strength of the vampires during the war. This slight woman who barely passed Adèle’s shoulder would have had no chance against one of them.
“When I woke up, he told me I was a vampire and I’d need to find someone to feed from so I didn’t starve. I don’t want to be a monster like him!”
“Calm down,” Adèle said soothingly, hiding her shock. She had learned enough about vampires over the past two years to know the mysterious vampire’s behavior fell well outside the norm of accepted behavior within that community. She had no idea what, under French law, she could charge a vampire with for a non-consensual turning, but she knew without a doubt what the reaction of the vampire leadership would be. She moved closer, keeping her hands out in front of her where the other woman could see them. “You aren’t a monster, no matter what he did to you. What’s your name?”
“You don’t know what he turned me into!” the woman wailed, completely ignoring Adèle’s question.
“You told me he turned you into a vampire,” the wizard said, struggling to hold on to her calm. “That doesn’t make you a monster.”
“But he drank my blood. He took my life!”
Adèle rolled her eyes. She wondered if the woman was always this melodramatic. “And gave you a different kind of life. Look, I know it’s a change, a huge one, but I know some people who can help you.”
“They can make me human again?”
“Nobody can do that,” Adèle said apologetically, “but they can help you learn to live with your new situation. I have some friends who are vampires, decent ones, not like the one who turned you without your permission. I can take you to them if you want. We can be there in twenty minutes. At least listen to what they have to say. If they can’t convince you, it will be dawn in an hour or so. A lot of what you hear about vampires isn’t true, but that part is. If you really can’t deal with your new existence after you’ve talked to Jean and Sebastien, all you have to do is walk outside once the sun is up. It will be over in a matter of seconds.”
“They won’t… hurt me?” the woman asked, stepping away from the edge of the bridge.
“What else can they do to you that you weren’t going to do to yourself?” Adèle asked, stepping closer. “Come on. It’s cold. You’ll be warmer in the car.”
“I don’t even feel it,” the woman said.
“There you go,” Adèle joked. “An advantage to being a vampire, because I’m freezing standing out here.”
“Why are you helping me?”
“It’s what I do,” Adèle said, pulling out her badge. “Detective Adèle Rougier at your service.”
“Enchantée, Detective.”
“And you are?”
“I’m sorry,” the woman apologized. “I’m Pascale Auboussu.”
Adèle had to suppress a shudder at hearing the first name of the dark wizard who had wreaked so much havoc in Paris before the Milice de Sorcellerie finally cornered and killed him. That wasn’t this Pascale’s fault, Adèle reminded herself. Here in the country, she had probably been only marginally aware of what many saw as a magical problem. Most people outside of Paris had never registered that the loss of the war would h
ave disrupted everyone’s lives and instituted an absolute rule the likes of which had not been seen in France since the days of Louis XIV. Taking a deep breath, Adèle let it go. She had more pressing problems. Like a potential partner who was newly turned and had no idea of anything. “Let’s go, Pascale. Time’s passing. We need to get you somewhere safe before sunrise.”
In the dim glow of the car’s dome light, Adèle got a better look at the woman she had rescued. Pascale was petite, blonde, and slender, the opposite of Adèle’s height, dark hair, and curvaceous figure. Snarling at catching herself staring, she reminded herself firmly that she didn’t want another partner, and even if she did, she liked men. Given her own experience and what she had observed, indeed what l’Institut was teaching during its seminars, anyone entering into a partnership needed to expect and accept it becoming personal, even sexual.
Even if she were interested—which she most certainly was not—asking Pascale to think about a partnership only hours after she was turned into a vampire was ludicrous. Better to leave her with Jean and forget she had ever laid eyes on the vampire. Pascale certainly would not know. Jean and Raymond would insist she participate in a seminar, but she would either find another partner or else continue to function as an unpaired vampire, and Adèle could go about her comfortable existence much as she had the past six months.
Now if she could only believe that.
The wards at l’Institut parted easily to let her in, since she had set all of them when Raymond first hatched this crazy scheme. Adèle smiled at the memory, but despite her doubts as she first prepared the wards, Raymond’s “crazy scheme” had worked. More vampires and wizards flocked to l’Institut each week for the educational seminars, and the research they were doing had gained international attention.
Climbing out of the car, Adèle was surprised not to see Raymond. A moment later, a very rumpled Thierry came into the courtyard. “What are you doing back?”
“Where’s Jean?” Adèle asked. “I found a newly turned vampire trying to commit suicide on my way home tonight. I stopped that, but she’s lost and more than a little upset at the moment.”
Thierry ran his hair through his short blond hair. “Let me get Sebastien. At least he can talk to her vampire to vampire.”
“Where’s Jean?” Adèle repeated.
“He and Raymond went back to Paris for the night and tomorrow,” Thierry said. “Something about meeting with Anne-Marie Valour. Apparently she had questions Alain and Orlando couldn’t answer.”
Adèle nodded as Thierry went back inside the old abbot’s lodge that had been converted into living quarters for the full-time staff at l’Institut. Jean and Raymond had the actual abbot’s quarters. Thierry and Sebastien had rooms there, as did Alain and Orlando and a few others who presented regularly at the seminars. The participants stayed in the monks’ cells in the main building, where they could interact more easily.
Thierry returned a few minutes later, Sebastien at his side. The dark-haired vampire could not have been more Thierry’s opposite, slender where Thierry was broad-shouldered, dark where Thierry was fair, but Adèle had seen the strength of their partnership too many times to doubt they belonged together.
“What’s this about a newly turned vampire?” Sebastien asked.
“She’s in the car,” Adèle said, “but go gently with her. Apparently her maker didn’t give her a choice, and she’s wishing she were dead.”
“Didn’t give….” Sebastien’s face tightened. “There are names for people like that.”
“What name?” Adèle asked.
“Extorris if he isn’t careful,” Sebastien said.
Adèle recognized the word, although she had been only peripherally involved in the trial and execution of Edouard Couthon, the rogue vampire who had killed several human victims before participating in Orlando’s capture and torture during the war. Vampire justice had been swift and merciless.
“I thought that applied only in the case of a vampire hurting another vampire or an Avoué or something like that.”
“The vampire turned her, then abandoned her,” Sebastien said. “If you hadn’t found her, she would have destroyed herself. That sounds like hurting a vampire to me. What’s her name?”
“Pascale.”
Adèle winced as she said the name, sharing a pained look with Thierry. It would take more than two years of peace to get used to hearing that name without reacting when it had been a source of terror for the past four years. Two years of fighting, of watching people around her get hurt and sometimes die because of the evil of one man.
“He’ll calm her down,” Thierry said as Sebastien walked toward Adèle’s car. “He’s one of the most matter-of-fact vampires I know.”
“It’s Sunday night, “Adèle reminded Thierry. “There’s no one here for her to feed from.”
“We’ll have to take her to Paris,” Thierry agreed. “Angelique will help her, I’m sure. L’Institut can pay for it until she gets acclimated to her new situation.”
At the car, Sebastien slipped into the driver’s seat. “Bonsoir, Pascale. I’m Sebastien. Adèle tells me you had a bit of a surprise tonight. How long ago did the vampire bite you?”
“I don’t know exactly,” Pascale said, her voice heavy with emotion. “Sometime between ten and eleven, because I was coming home from a friend’s house when he grabbed me outside my house. I didn’t fight him, hoping he’d take what he wanted and let me go.”
“He did,” Sebastien said. “He just took more than you thought. So if that’s the case, it’s been almost seven hours, and you have to be starving.”
“I won’t do to someone else what he did to me!” Pascale protested.
“You don’t have to,” Sebastien assured her. “See that man talking with Adèle?”
Pascale nodded.
“That’s Thierry. He’s my partner. I’ve been feeding from him for getting close to two years now, and he’s as healthy as ever. Healthier in some ways. He’s certainly stronger than he was when we met.”
“I don’t understand.”
“What the vampire who turned you did was unforgivable, but it doesn’t have to be that way. With a bit of experience and a chance to learn control, you can feed as much as you need to without hurting anyone,” Sebastien explained. “If you’re willing, I’d suggest we go to Paris and see a friend of mine. She runs a restaurant for vampires. All the different flavors of blood you could possibly want.”
“So… what?” Pascale said, her stomach churning at the thought of more blood in her mouth. Even upset as she was, she understood what Sebastien was trying to do, but nothing could make this new life appealing. “I give him what he wanted and live this way?”
“Your other choice is to end your existence,” Sebastien said philosophically. “I’ve known a few vampires who made that decision, heard tales of a few more, but for the most part, we keep finding reasons to stay around a little longer.”
“How old are you?”
“About five hundred years old,” Sebastien said with a grin. “I’m told the years have been kind to me.”
“We’ll never get to Paris before dawn,” Pascale said, “and Adèle said I couldn’t be out in daylight.”
“Adèle obviously neglected to mention a few things,” Sebastien said with a short laugh. “Thierry, could you do me a favor?”
“Sure,” Thierry said, coming to the car. “What do you need?”
“Can you send my new friend to place Pigalle? I’ll get Adèle to send me too. Pascale needs to meet Angelique.”
“Of course,” Thierry said, drawing his wand. “Relax,” he told Pascale. “This will feel a little odd, but it won’t hurt.”
With a flick of his wrist, she disappeared. Sebastien dropped a quick kiss on Thierry’s mouth before calling for Adèle to send him to Paris as well. Moments later, he reappeared on place Pigalle, the Moulin Rouge to his left and Sang Froid, Angelique Bouaddi’s establishment, to his right.
“I don’t un
derstand,” Pascale said again.
“Thierry and Adèle are wizards,” Sebastien explained. “Come on. Sunrise is getting closer. It won’t hurt me, but the same isn’t true for you.”
“Why won’t it hurt you?” Pascale asked, hurrying to keep up with Sebastien’s long strides.
“Because Thierry is a wizard,” Sebastien replied. “I promise to explain everything I can, but first you need to get inside and you need to feed.”
Sebastien held open the door to Sang Froid for Pascale.
“Sebastien, what are you doing here?” Angelique asked, summoned by the chime above the door.
Sebastien kissed Angelique on each cheek. “You’re looking lovely as ever, chérie. This is Pascale. Pascale, Angelique Bouaddi, proprietress of Sang Froid.”
“Enchantée,” Pascale said.
“Indeed,” Angelique replied. “What’s your pleasure?”