by Damian Serbu
“Xavier, what happened?” Thomas sounded panicked.
“I’m fine.” Xavier wiped away the tears.
“What’s wrong? I knew it was a bad idea for you to go alone.”
Xavier grabbed Thomas’s arm and pulled him down, where the remaining brick walls and piles of charred wood concealed them.
“Thomas, calm down.”
“Why are you crying?”
Xavier reminded Thomas of Melisent’s story, explained that she came to thank him, and told him about her. Then he told Thomas how this reminded him of his calling. As he talked, Thomas noticeably relaxed by sitting back and playing with Xavier’s fingers.
“And that’s why I’m crying. Are you angry? Disappointed? Can a vampire live with these ideals?”
Thomas seized Xavier’s face in his hands. “When will you accept that I love you? I’m not in love with an image of you or some mystical being. I love you. Be yourself.” Thomas stared into his eyes. “Be yourself. I’m happy for you.” Thomas kissed Xavier gently.
They sat for a moment before Xavier felt Thomas giggling.
“What’s so funny?”
“I’ve enough cynicism for a legion of vampires. We need you to balance us.”
“Amen.”
Thomas: Counter-spell
6 November 1793
ONE OF THOMAS’S servants told him upon waking that the government had executed Phillippe Egalité, the Duc D’Orleans. Thomas merely scoffed. The revolution bored him except that it upset Xavier, who worried that it more and more endangered Catherine. A wealthy, single woman in that gigantic house might become a target. But when Xavier broached the subject, Catherine sneered and was unafraid. Worse, she argued that it hardly mattered because she set sail soon to meet Marcel in America.
Thomas worked on some business while Xavier read quietly in the other room until he heard a servant announce a visitor. He went to the study, where Xavier stood greeting Anne.
“Anne, welcome.” Thomas shot Xavier a look because his lover had clenched his jaw. “What’s wrong?” Thomas asked.
“Catherine,” answered Anne. “I came about Catherine.”
“Is there something new?” Thomas motioned for everyone to sit down. “Has she left already?”
“No. But it’s time,” Xavier said.
“Time for what?” Thomas looked at Xavier, then to Anne. “What’s going on?”
Anne held up a bulging black velvet bag that she had carried in with her. “I got something that might do it.”
“Now, after all these years, you decided to help?”
Xavier put his hand on Thomas’s knee, as he often did to calm him. “Relax, Thomas. Let her explain. She promised to help when I went away with her, but it took some time to get the last —what would you call it? Ingredient. I told you about this.”
“Listen, don’t think I came lightly upon this action.” Anne set the bag down. “I told you both a million times I don’t do black magic. Messing with these forces ain’t for the faint of heart. I tried simpler things, but it don’t work. Catherine’s too strong, and Marcel’s potion even stronger. Believe me, I wanted to avoid this, and it scares me even now. But we must do it. I have to do it for Xavier.”
“Do what?” Thomas asked.
“I got this from America.” She pointed at the bag. “Sent for it when you all found Xavier again and I realized that spell was still on Catherine. Even stronger. It took this long to get it. That should tell you how hard it is to come by. My friends there don’t do black magic any more than I do. I convinced them of the urgency. They know if Anne wants this, there’s a serious problem in France.”
“What’s in that bag?” Thomas asked.
“You don’t want to know. I told Xavier what must be done. I best be getting to my bridge. Hurry and bring her.”
Terrified, Xavier begged Thomas for help. Could they do anything without those unknown elders swooping in? Thomas decided that he had to assuage Xavier and help Catherine, regardless of the ethic.
“How are you?” Thomas asked Xavier, who walked with silent determination toward the Saint-Laurent home.
“I’m afraid.”
“Don’t shut me out.”
“I’m sorry,” Xavier whispered. “I’m fine. Just nervous. You know how she’ll react.”
The rest of the way Xavier only said that he would get to the point quickly before his courage left him once they arrived. And that he did, for they had hardly walked through the door and into the parlor when Xavier spoke to Catherine.
“I wish this were a social visit, but Thomas and I came for a specific reason.” Catherine fidgeted with a wine glass. “You’ve heard this a million times, but I haven’t been the best brother because I treaded lightly for fear of angering you. Forgive me, I love you. And please don’t dismiss my comments as an attempt to control you. But you need to stop taking this potion and get away from Marcel. He’s dangerous.”
Catherine stared icily back, like a trapped animal. Defiantly, she poured wine into the glass, opened a canister, and spooned in a heap of grayish-blue powder. Then she gulped it down.
“Don’t make me do this, Catherine.”
“Leave it alone, Xavier. You’ve no idea what he means to me. I just take a headache medicine.”
“How much? Have you increased it?”
“Yes, I need more.”
Catherine backed away silently. Then, without a word, Xavier moved into action. In seconds Xavier swept across the room, captured his sister, and escaped into the Paris night. Catherine screamed in protest as they raced through the streets too fast for anyone to see. Thomas followed until they came to the bridge under which they had found Xavier. There sat Anne next to a roaring fire with Jérémie. It hardly surprised Thomas that he had involved himself, too. This quiet lover had more determination to help Catherine than all the rest of them put together.
Xavier forced Catherine to sit near the fire and covered her with his coat. He brushed some hair out of her eyes as the cackling Anne approached.
“This is simply too much for me to handle. Jérémie’s sure to find out now, because no human can come swooping in like the gods carrying a woman on their back. My how far you have fallen, abbé. Right into the darkness of the night.” Anne roared with laughter. “Now I have two of you demons running around bothering me.”
“Anne, Catherine needs you,” Xavier said.
With that Catherine jumped off her log and moved toward them.
“No, she doesn’t. I can manage things myself.”
“Girl, you’re looking mighty mean this evening. Are you still taking the medicine I gave you?”
“No,” she said defiantly. “I stopped again. The headaches were unbearable. You two—” Catherine pointed toward Anne and Jérémie, “almost had me convinced that Marcel was dangerous. And I see that you poisoned my brother’s mind.”
“That’s unfair. We all came to our own conclusions,” Jérémie stated. “You need help. This isn’t about anyone trying to control you. We’re trying to save you.”
Catherine laughed bitterly, almost maniacally.
“She’s taken too much,” Anne said. “It’s the demon side of things controlling her. No way we can combat this without forcing her. It won’t let her go now. Poor thing, she fought it a long time but you can’t win against these things if you don’t admit they’re there.”
“Tell us what to do,” Thomas demanded.
Anne instructed them without further pause, perhaps because of Thomas’s tone and perhaps because Catherine had begun screaming incoherently. She had them hold Catherine to the ground, which took all three men as Catherine thrashed about and tried to bite them. While they struggled with Catherine, Anne hurried to the far end of the bridge and opened a couple of crates, preparing something. Then she grabbed the black velvet bag from earlier in the night and yanked out a skull.
“What is that? Is it human?” Xavier exclaimed, losing his grip on Catherine. Thomas held her more tightly until Xavi
er regained his control.
“What’s it look like?” Anne wiped the top of it off. “Yes, it’s human. Nobody was killed. It’s the skull of a powerful witch. We need her spirit. Only she can save Catherine now.”
Once they had Catherine pinned to the ground despite her squirming, Anne rushed over and smeared a pasty white substance over Catherine’s face. It smelled horrible. Catherine lashed about more violently and in the lowest of tones, Anne mumbled words in a language that even Thomas, in all of his travels, did not recognize. Anne swayed back and forth, closed her eyes, and continued a mantra that mesmerized him with its steady rhythm. Then Anne burst into angry denunciations, this time in French, before finally taking out charms and a small leather pouch of silver dust and sprinkling it over Catherine.
As Catherine calmed, Anne reached over and picked up the skull. She talked to it in the same language from before that Thomas had never heard. Then the most frightening thing that Thomas had ever seen happened before his eyes. The skull talked back. It chanted and sang, and Anne joined its mantra. Forces swirled about Catherine, changing colors and moving more and more rapidly until they flew through the air and right into the skull’s mouth. When the last spirit had entered it, the skull exploded into a thousand pieces and sent Anne flying backward into the stones of the bridge.
Within seconds, the world quieted around them. Catherine lay fast asleep. Anne got up and arched her back before joining everyone around Catherine.
“What did you do?” Xavier asked.
“Trust me, abbé, there are things you don’t want to know, even if you’re a vampire.”
“Vampire? What are you talking about?” Jérémie asked, sending Anne into peals of laughter.
“Now isn’t that the question. You ask Catherine, if we can get her back to sorts, but for now let that alone because I need all of your help.”
Anne slowly removed the horrid white paste from Catherine’s face. She had Xavier apply damp towels to her head as Jérémie watched in utter confusion. Thomas knelt beside Catherine in case she woke and struggled but, instead, she opened her eyes slowly and looked around as if lost. She first saw Xavier.
“Xavier, how did I get here? What’s going on?” she asked.
Anne quickly answered. “Catherine, listen to me. We don’t have much time and these three gentlemen are terribly worried about you. How is your head? Is your thinking clear?”
“Yes, of course. What’s this about?”
“’The spell, Catherine, the spell that I’ve been trying to tell you about for a long time. You’ve got to listen to me now, you hear? We don’t have much time. I used a powerful counter-measure, something so powerful I dreaded doing it, but it doesn’t last forever and I have to have your cooperation if this is to work.”
The three men stepped aside and allowed Anne total control. Catherine looked bewildered but there was no defiance as Anne leaned over and stared at her, then walked around her, mumbling in a mystical language until she at last sat Catherine up and seated herself opposite.
“I got that medicine out of you. I got the demons away. It’s temporary because you have to want to continue it. Those headaches will come back if you won’t take this last bit of medicine, and then you have to stay away from the potion he gave you. Stay away from him because these are powerful demons. He controls forces that would frighten Jesus himself.”
Catherine just nodded and drank an elixir that Anne had brewed over the fire. She wrinkled her face at the taste.
“My God, what have I done? What did he do to me?” Catherine finally asked.
“He put a spell on you, but nothing else and you’re safe now.”
“I lost all my dignity.” Catherine gained her feet. “Can you forgive me?”
“We all forgive you.” Xavier reached over to hold her. She collapsed into his arms in convulsions of sorrow.
“Dear God.” Catherine pulled away from Xavier and looked at each of them. “Xavier, you told me that he killed Michel. Is that true?” Xavier stood frozen in place and shot a glance at Thomas. Catherine spun to look at him. Thomas knew that Xavier would never do this to his sister, but she had to know. Thomas needed to reveal it for both of them. With but a slight nod of his head, he told Catherine what he imagined she never wanted to learn. She fell back into her brother’s arms and wept, whispering over and over that she had killed her brother.
Thomas could hardly stand observing this emotional scene. He realized that they had not really mourned their brother together until that moment, with all the truth in the open. Xavier still often told Thomas that he blamed himself for allowing Marcel to murder Michel, and now Catherine’s words took the burden on as well. Despite the sorrow, a profoundly beautiful family love showed through, something Thomas thought Michel would be proud of.
Xavier and Catherine cried themselves into exhaustion, with Jérémie eventually joining them. Thomas thought that they quit finally because the human spirit forced them to move on, to return to the relief of having saved Catherine. He wondered if his resistance to such fortitude came from being a vampire or simply because of his personality.
“I suppose this makes it even harder for you to forgive me,” Catherine said to Xavier.
“You’ve done nothing wrong. No transgressions need forgiving.”
Catherine began acting more like herself. She straightened her posture and regained her air of authority.
“Transgressions.” Catherine smiled at Xavier and wiped away the last tear. “A vampiric priest.” Everyone laughed except Jérémie. “So you’re not angry? I don’t deserve exoneration. My God, I thought I loved that scoundrel.” Her voice dropped lower. “That murderer.”
“You can’t be hard on yourself.” Xavier rubbed her arm. “It’s magic he uses.”
“But I was so stubborn.”
“Just promise you won’t do this again,” Xavier said.
Thomas nodded agreement but Catherine had turned her attention elsewhere, her eyes wide but not afraid, as if she had had a profound revelation. Xavier noticed, too, for he stopped talking and looked to see what she watched. Then it came to Thomas, for Catherine glanced at Jérémie before quickly looking away.
“I’m awfully tired,” Catherine said. “Anne, thank you. I’m sorry to go, but I need to sleep.”
“No problem, no problem. You take care of yourself and we’ll be seeing each other soon.”
Then Catherine strode to Jérémie. “I owe you just as much for saving me.” Jérémie’s face turned red as Catherine grabbed his hand. “Join me for dinner tomorrow night, please.”
“Of course,” he answered.
Catherine issued more orders. “And you two—” she pointed at Xavier and Thomas, “will escort me home at once.”
When they had returned to the road, Xavier asked if she wanted them to take her quickly.
“I prefer a slow speed to that of your inhuman quickness. It unsettles my stomach. Besides, you’ve kept a secret long enough and I need confirmation regardless of what promises you made to others. This is a bond between sister and brother, so no priestly protesting.”
“What is it?” Xavier asked.
“You can still be incredibly naïve despite this new state of being. I’ll bet that Thomas knows.”
Xavier shot a look at Thomas, who only smiled.
“You do know. Tell me.”
“Each time I think I begin to understand the minds of men you confound me all the more.”
“What?” Xavier exclaimed.
“Michel began this little charade, no doubt at the behest of the one he represented. But why not come to me? Why not tell me the truth? Did anyone consider that a woman could help in these matters, instead of having men blunder about in secrecy, one of them entirely miserable, and now I know why. And two of the principle players must be the meekest men I know, and yes, Xavier, you’re one of them.”
“Thomas, will you explain this? I don’t understand.”
“Didn’t you hear her? It’s up to the
lady now.”
“Catherine, I’ll pick you up and run if you don’t tell me,” Xavier threatened.
“This mysterious suitor that Michel first attempted to present—I know him.”
“How did you find out? Do you really know?” Xavier asked.
“The question isn’t how I found out but why it took me this long. The spell had to have kept me from knowing. It’s Jérémie.”
Xavier smiled at Thomas, sending the vampire into laughter as the three walked back to Paris.
Catherine: Engagement II
7 November 1793
CATHERINE RECTIFIED HER tragic mistake with Marcel the very next morning after Anne had saved her. She regretted everything, and the humiliation was still raw, but to move beyond the mistake she had to admit it, repair the damage, and continue without regret.
She first wrote a note of apology to Thomas and Xavier to reiterate what she had told them the night before. No doubt Xavier would scold her for groveling, but she felt better letting them know one more time that she had learned her lesson and appreciated their love. Then Catherine unpacked. She had spent an entire week secretly collecting things to take to New Orleans, and now sneaking around to unload her trunks embarrassed her more than anything. She could not hide from herself and how stupidly she had acted.
That task completed, she drafted a curt, one line letter to Marcel, in which she explained that she knew about his deplorable deeds and therefore terminated their engagement. She signed off with a hope that he suffer. Next she dashed off a note to Jérémie. It, too, was succinct, reminding him of their dinner appointment.
After she sent someone to deliver the letters, she gathered her small staff and explained her dinner plans. She outlined the menu and requested that they prepare the dining room as if for a formal party. The servants eyed her suspiciously, so she lifted her eyebrow playfully and said, “Was I unclear?”
They laughed and went away without further inquiry.
Catherine pondered throughout the day all that she had learned and, as embarrassed as she felt about Marcel, she felt even worse about Jérémie. He was her closest friend. She had known him all his life and usually understood him easily. Yet her determination blinded her to the one thing that could answer her prayers for independence and at the same time deliver something she had relegated to fairy tales—love.