by Dean Drinkel
“Thank fuck for that,” he grinned. He took out a handkerchief, wrapped it around his wrist.
He sat down on the sofa. “So, what happened to you then my friend?” He dipped a finger in the large wound in his friend’s stomach...he needed to be certain that Philippe was dead. Which of course he was.
Cold.
Lifeless.
Lucien breathed in, inhaled the air.
Nothing appeared out of place. Whoever had done this had been swift, quick, calculating. There had been no time for mistakes, in and out before being seen or noticed.
He almost admired...almost...
...he wondered for a moment if Philippe had seen the face of his killer, had been aware that someone was there in his apartment...Lucien shook his head, thinking like that wasn’t going to get him anywhere. He removed the two coins that had been put over his eyes (he dropped them in his pocket, he didn’t need to look at them, he knew what they were) and lifted his friend’s head – he stared into those baby blues – hoping that they might reveal something but no...no last image, nothing...gently, reverently he lowered it again, closing Philippe’s eyes when he had finished.
Lucien stood up, bowed – if he was a religious man (and Charles would have loved the irony of that suggestion) he would have whispered a prayer but he wasn’t so just moved to the next room, the one after that, then the next...was it all some kind of elaborate trick to entice him in?
Had he really been that stupid?
He came back into the den, went to the wall – there was a photograph of Philippe in happier times – Philippe, his wife, their child...innocent, smiling, unaware...
...a light flickered: the telephone.
There was a message. He hit the play button.
After almost ten seconds of silence, the message kicked in.
First there was breathing, then a few bars of music. Operatic.
Lucien, out of fear, if nothing else, took several steps back, his teeth, his talons exposed. He was ready for the attack which he was sure was only seconds away.
“I know you are there...”
More breathing, rasping – someone fighting for life.
“I know you can hear me. If only you could see me. Things...things would be so very different.”
“What have you done?” Lucien asked the machine. The sound of an old man coughing.
Kotcheff?
It had to be...it couldn’t be...no, rid yourself of that idea, that would be impossible.
“The boy is dead. What was his name? Yes, Philippe.”
Bastard, you know full well that it was.
“We didn’t mean to kill him...not at first. We just wanted to talk...about old times, about you, about before...well about everything I guess. We wanted to put things right...but...”
A pause.
More coughing.
“...our visit didn’t go the way we expected. He, Philippe, became ugly, monstrous. He became like you Lucien. Imagine that – two of you let loose upon the world. We...I...couldn’t have that, not at all. The balance needed to be restored. You understand that don’t you? At the end of the day, you and I are not too dissimilar. We are both capable of Transformation”
Beads of sweat formed on his forehead, the space between his nose and his lips. He started to shake – he needed fresh air. He needed to get outside. Even though he knew full well that was too risky for him, particularly during the day but even so...perhaps he could make an exception, after all, he was facing...this was not normal, well beyond the pale. The rage was building; pity anyone who got in his way.
This wasn’t Kotcheff...this was someone else, something else entirely.
“I used to pity you Lucien, right at the beginning of all this. You and your strange ways – you showed so much promise. But look what you have become. I would implore you to take a proper look at yourself in the mirror, take a real look at whom...at what, is reflected back...but you won’t do that will you? You can’t face yourself – even if you saw anything at all.”
There were sounds which followed, they sounded like laughter but Lucien knew there was no mirth intended, had only been brought on by sickness, insanity.
“Perhaps it will give you some comfort Lucien to hear that Philippe welcomed death, it came so easy to him, he embraced it like a long-lost pet. He knew he had to atone for his sins. He allowed me to put the blade to his porcelain skin, didn’t even flinch, well not at the beginning anyway...it was only when he realised that I was there to inflict pain not to release his soul – that was when he started to kick, to hit out, that was when I saw his old spirit return. The boy definitely had some life left in him. It surprised me somewhat. Of course he didn’t scream, he experienced a rapture which was unique to him and him only. Oh my goodness Lucien, I am crying...the tears are flowing down my cheeks as I remember...he sung lullabies to me Lucien, imagine that, lullabies...as the blood flowed it was my name he sung, not yours...”
Lucien picked up the machine, held it to his ear to try and hear more clearly. He thought...no he shook his head, he didn’t want to be thinking that...yet, it was familiar...NO...he couldn’t think that, not about him of all people.
The chatter came to an end, the sound of electronic beeping.
“Lucien, I bid you farewell. It was a pleasure as always. I know Philippe loved you. Perhaps as much as I love you. Though I’m not sure if that’s really possible. I pray we will meet again one day Lucien, I say that with honesty. And if I were you, I wouldn’t out-stay your welcome; can you not hear the sirens? They are like angels screaming for you and you alone.”
The room was suddenly silent.
The machine flashed red but the tape had run out, the message was over.
Lucien ripped the machine from its socket, threw it against the wall, it smashed.
No, no, no.
This could not be happening again!
Lucien fell to his knees and sobbed.
For a moment he ignored the swathes of blue light which shone through the window and that din that accompanied them...but only for a moment for then his wings grew and he took flight...
Interlude
The crates had been loaded onto the bank and prised opened. The ten or so boys stood there and like Lucien, they were naked. They were tied together, in a long chain but the shackles were of scarlet velvet not iron – wrapped tightly around their wrists and ankles. The remains of the boat disappeared under the water.
Flowers everywhere. Not just growing in the ground but hanging from trees, in wooden baskets, in concrete planters...bright red, yellow and white flowers. It truly was an amazing sight and smell!
It was still night. Burning torches illuminated a sandy pathway from the bank then through a small orchard of orange and lemon trees (the aroma was intoxicating but for a second Lucien wondered what it masked). The boys were made to walk along the path which - he could just make out - led to the door of a large house...no, that was understating it, it wasn’t a house, it was a luxurious chateau. Magnificent in all its splendour.
Lucien looked about him to see if he recognised anyone but he didn’t – except of course for Louvois who was doing his best not to make eye contact. He wondered also for a moment if he had been drugged or something because his head was spinning, he felt nauseous and wasn’t confident that he was going to be able to keep down the contents of his stomach.
Beside them were the white clad men, their hands clasped before them, their heads bowed. Lucien wanted to ask them where they were going (well, obviously the chateau, but he meant where were they going once inside) and just what the hell was going on.
As they walked, Lucien noticed that the girl was at the front of the procession. The scarlet ribbon was bound around one of her wrists. She was skipping, dancing, singing, loud enough for them all to hear. Music he thought he recognised, though he wasn’t entirely sure from where...it wasn’t French...Hungarian...German...yes, it sounded German.
“Hey?!”
Lucien stared down at
the ground.
“Hey!” Now more loudly. “No, don’t turn around, they’ll beat you...you...we won’t make it to the chateau. They will let us talk as long as we don’t step out of line.”
It was the boy behind him that was speaking.
“What’s going on?” Lucien asked as loudly as he thought allowed.
“You haven’t been here before have you? No, I can tell that you haven’t...what’s your name?”
“Lucien.”
“Henri. This is my third, no fourth time.”
“But I don’t understand...how did I get here...”
“Did you hear the dogs?” Henri changed the subject.
“Dogs?”
“Yes, if you can’t hear them, I bet you can feel them. They are there in the trees, watching us. One false move and you will be cut loose. Then they let the dogs have you.”
“You’ve seen that have you?”
Henri was quiet for a moment. “Yes. The first time I was here, there was this one boy...I don’t remember his name...yes I do, it was Valentin...he was very very pretty, he looked like a girl almost but he had a bad temper, he was a thief...he liked to fight...he managed to break free on the boat, when we landed this side of the lake, he made a run for it.” Henri paused. “He didn’t get very far.”
Lucien let the words sink in for a moment, he wasn’t sure if he believed what Henri was telling him but one thing was true, he did feel that there was someone...something watching them and he had felt it for a while, a long while in fact.
“But I still don’t get it, how am I here...I don’t remember anything before...” Lucien tried hard to remember but it was foggy, fragments but nothing joined up. “There was the forest...I remember that...then the girl...”
“Same as all of us. But don’t question how you got here, we just have that’s all.”
“You said you’ve been here before?”
“Several of us have, there must be something about us He likes.” Henri started to laugh.
“He? Who is He?”
“The Creator. I have been promised that this time...”
“Promised? What have you been promised?” Lucien wanted to turn around but there was something in the back of his mind telling him not to do that, just to keep on walking, following the others along the path,
“He says I am like a chrysalis and one day, with His love, He will help me Transform into a scarlet butterfly.”
“Do you need to be Transformed?” Lucien asked after a while but Henri didn’t answer, the procession came to a halt.
At the end of the path, an old woman stood. Her hands too clasped in front of her. She bowed then entered the chateau. She was quickly followed by the dancing girl who led the boys in behind her.
As Lucien was about to step inside he felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned his head slightly, it was one of the men – of course he couldn’t be one hundred percent sure, but he believed it was Kotcheff.
“Keep your wits about you here my son. Always keep your eyes and ears open. Remember your heart must stay true - in this house there are so many lies. Trust no-one not even a member of your own family.”
Lucien was confused – who from his family was here? - he wanted to reply, he had so many questions, but it was too late, he was dragged over the threshold...
They all stood there waiting in the large lobby area. They were free of their shackles and had been made to stand in a circle.
At the far end of the lobby, there was a counter, the woman stood behind it. The only illumination came from the hundreds of candles which were littered about.
Before her, on the counter, was a small ornate lacquered box. From where Lucien stood he could just about make out the butterfly motif engraved upon it.
He looked around for the girl but she seemed to have vanished.
From somewhere, a gong could be heard. The woman opened the box, took out a tiny scroll of vellum. She paused, unfurled it. Something was scratched there in red ink.
“Pierre,” she read coldly, a strong accent to her voice.
One of the boys (the larger, corpulent boy in fact) stepped forward. He looked absolutely terrified, shaking, trembling. A sweaty sheen covered his body. A white clad man approached, bowed before him, took his hand then led him away through a door on the right.
That gong again. The woman reached in the box, took out a scroll. “Philippe,” she called.
A second boy stepped forward. He was led away through a door on the left.
Lucien was perturbed, what was happening here? Where was everyone...
...the gong, a scroll. “Christophe.” He and the man went through the door on the right.
Gong. Scroll. “Charles.” The door on the left.
Gong. Scroll. “Guillaume.” Right.
Gong. Scroll. “Louvois.” Left.
Gong. Scroll. “Stephan.” Right.
Lucien looked about him. Only three of them remained. His heart raced, he really needed to sit down. He was sure he was going to vomit but...
The woman reached into the box, slowly removed the scroll. She scowled as she read the name. “Henri.”
Lucien turned, the taller boy grinned as he was led to the door on the left.
Just the two of them.
“Lucien,” she read.
He started moving to the door on the right, but then there was a cough behind him. The woman looked up, nobody spoke for a moment but then she nodded, motioned with her head. He was being sent to the room on the left as well.
“Felix,” she quickly said and the last boy was led off to the door on the right.
“I might have just saved you a lifetime’s agony my son,” a voice at his ear whispered.
“Saved my life?” Lucien chuckled as they headed towards the chosen door.
“I can’t be sure that is exactly true, but you will be one of the first and whatever He does, He will do quickly.”
Lucien wasn’t convinced he understood what was being said but the door was opened and he stepped through.
From somewhere in the house, he could hear a baby crying...
Five
“Come in, come in, it has been a while since we’ve seen you,” the doctor said, an almost Germanic lilt to his accent.
“How has he been?” Lucien was directed to the empty chair.
The doctor leant up against his desk, his arms were crossed.
“Like most of us, he has his good days and his...not so good days. We wondered if perhaps something had happened to you...”
“You know how it is,” Lucien said abruptly. He was feeling extremely uncomfortable.
“I thought you had given up on him.”
“What?” Anger flashed in Lucien’s eyes. “Give up on Louvois? Never!”
The doctor sat down behind his desk played with one of those annoying ball-bearing toys. “He has always cared a great deal about you.”
Lucien nodded, looked over the doctor’s shoulder, through the window, and watched as some of the inmates played in the concrete yard.
“It was mutual. I cared about Louvois right from the beginning...you know...he was my...best friend.”
“Beginning? Beginning of what?” the doctor was intrigued.
Lucien smiled; he wasn’t going to play those games, not today. “None of that really matters anymore. I think it did, before, but not now.”
“No?”
Lucien shook his head, he reached into his pocket, took out a large wad of notes, laid it down on the doctor’s desk. “I hope that will be sufficient.”
“You don’t need to do that - you know he is cared for.”
“I want to ensure he has everything he needs. It could be a while before I...return again.”
The doctor hesitated but eventually picked up the money and put it in his desk drawer.
“Would you like to see him? He had quite a round-circle discussion the other day.” The doctor appeared to choose his words carefully. “Did you and he ever have a sexual relationship? Sorry, I
don’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”
Lucien shifted in his chair. “No.”
“He said something about you and he...well...when you were younger...teenagers maybe...it was quite explicit...the scars he has from cutting himself, he blamed you.”
“Louvois always did have an over-active imagination.” Lucien looked at his watch. “Okay, there’s somewhere I need to be.”
“Just before you go, if you wouldn’t mind indulging me.” He got up, went to his filing cabinet, opened it, flicked through the manila folders.
“Here it is.” He picked up a yellow file, searched through the papers. “I wanted you to see this...” He sat back down. “It is quite co-incidental what you say about his imagination. Louvois has been plagued by some very nasty dreams recently. We all know his grip on reality can be called tentative at best, otherwise he wouldn’t be here in the first place.” He made a noise which Lucien assumed was laughter. “Anyway,” the doctor continued. “I am extremely concerned that his mind is completely unravelling now...”
“Don’t give up on him. I don’t pay you to be a defeatist.”
“I think we...you...need to face reality.” He looked down at a piece of paper he had taken from the file. “Some of the things that he talks about...”
“Like what?”
“Well, he’s convinced you are a vampire for starters.”
Lucien blushed; his head was beginning to hurt. “Yes, he’s totally convinced that when you were younger, you tried to kill him, to bite him. And then you fucked him. Does that surprise you?”
The chair creaked as Lucien sat back. “We both know why he is here and has spent most of his life in this place...he has suicidal tendencies.”
The doctor nodded. “But as he’s getting older, they are manifesting into something altogether different because believe it or not, vampirism, homosexuality aren’t the worst of it.”