VROLOK

by Nolene-Patricia Dougan

  Isabella awoke to find Joseph sitting at her bedside, waiting for her to stir.

  “You’re awake,” he began.

  “What happened?”

  “We saved you.”

  “Why?”

  “Because you never finished what you started.”

  “What?” Isabella asked.

  “You told me you would help me atone; you said you would end this reign of terror. It would have been Charlotte’s wish.”

  Isabella sat up. Her first thoughts were of Charlotte. Charlotte had trusted her to protect her, but she couldn’t. Isabella was angry. Leila had killed Charlotte out of spite. Isabella rubbed her neck; her skin was no longer smooth, the Dhampir’s blood had scarred her.

  “As scars go, it is quite attractive,” Joseph said a mischievous tone in his voice. Isabella managed a slight smile and then Joseph asked her. “Will you end it, Isabella?”

  “I will, I will end it,” she said. “And it will end for Leila, too, whenever she dares to show herself.”

  There was a malevolence in Isabella’s face. A malevolence and a grim determination that Joseph had never seen before. In that moment she scared him more than she had ever done.

  Joseph left Isabella and went downstairs and out into the cobbled street below. He walked a few steps to the corner and the rain began to fall. He ran to the alehouse on the next street and cautiously entered with a certain amount of trepidation. He had not come into this place merely to seek shelter; he had a greater purpose. His steps were slow but deliberate, for he knew how dangerous this man was that he was going to see. The portentous, mysterious man was sitting in the corner staring out the window, watching the rain fall from the sky. Joseph sat down beside him and ordered a tankard of ale. The man did not look around at Joseph, but he knew he was there.

  “Is she awake?”

  “She is.”

  “Does she remember anything?”

  “Nothing,” Joseph confirmed.

  “What has she resolved to do?”

  “To finish what she started.”

  “Why?” This man knew Isabella well, but she still managed on occasion to baffle even him.

  “She says a dying man made her promise to end it,” Joseph stated.

  The man sighed and said, “I should have known; she was never one to resist a final wish.” The two men sat in silence and then Joseph resumed his conversation.

  “Doubtless, you want to see her?”

  The man leaned his head back against the wall behind him and looked up at the ceiling and said, “I see her often… I watch her always.”

  “Then surely you want to speak to her?” The man then for the first time that evening looked at Joseph face to face.

  “No, she must not know I am here,” he said with finality.

  “But you saved her; whatever has happened between you she would forgive, knowing that if it was not for your sake, Leila would have killed her.”

  “No!” the man said fiercely.

  “But—” Joseph tried to protest. Isabella’s savior slammed his fist down on the table beside them. The table broke in half. He pushed his face towards Joseph. Joseph was terrified of this man, the black eyes that stared out from an emotionless face.

  “She must never know. She would never accept help from me.”

  “All right, all right,” Joseph said. Vlad backed away from Joseph and sat back down. “Jesus, Mary and Joseph, I have the strong feeling there are two too many Vampires in my acquaintance.”

  “Well, how is she going to proceed now? No more elaborate plans to fabricate acts of God, I hope,” Vlad said.

  “Judging by the look on her face when I left her it appears she is going to kill everyone.”

  “That is the best way to end things.”

  “God help the leaders of the revolution.”

  “Do you care? From what I can gather, they made you do something that you are totally ashamed of,” said Vlad.

  Joseph’s expression darkened. He did not like to be reminded of what he had done. He drank the last of his ale and got up to leave.

  “Yes… definitely too many Vampires in my life. They can see too far into a man‘s mind.” Vlad smiled as Joseph left; he could see why Isabella liked him.

  Isabella watched as Herbert and Danton climbed up the platform to their deaths.

  “This is only the beginning of the end,” Isabella remarked.

  “At least it is the start of the end,” Joseph answered.

  “Are you going to see Robespierre tonight?”

  “I am.”

  “Be careful.”

  “I always am,” Isabella stated and turned to leave as the blade fell to sever Danton’s neck from his body.

  Isabella had met Robespierre soon after Charlotte Corday’s death. She was of use to him because she was a killer, a killer who, if she wanted to, could kill without any sign of violence. Robespierre was waiting for Isabella the night Danton died; she was his eyes and ears in the crowd, as he refused to attend any of the executions.

  “You were there today, as I asked?” Robespierre asked.

  “I was.”

  “Danton and Herbert were quite brave in the end?”

  “They were. It would be hypocritical of them to have been anything else, as they have sent so many to the guillotine.”

  “Did you hear his last words, Danton‘s I mean?”

  “I did. He said that you would follow him and his death would drag you down.”

  “A fool.”

  “Perhaps.”

  “No one can drag me down, I have absolute power now. You were right to advise me to turn on Danton there is no friction in the committee now. I have complete control.”

  “Well, use your control wisely.”

  “I will.”

  “Good.” Robespierre walked over to the mirror that was hanging in his room to look at himself.

  “Good, everything is good when it leaves the Creator’s hands; everything degenerates in the hands of man. Do you know who said this?”

  “Rousseau,” Isabella answered.

  “A great man.”

  “He was. I met him once a long time ago,” Robespierre still examining his own reflection took an orange from the top of a pyramid of oranges that sat on a plate on top of his mantelpiece. He started to peel it.

  “I am going to start a new religion for France based on his theory of deism. It will be the called The Cult of the Supreme Being.”

  Isabella looked at him, bemused by this revelation. “I will leave you now,” Isabella said. She had enough of his egocentric ramblings.

  “Yes, go. I have no need of you anymore.” Isabella left and met Joseph, who was waiting outside.

  “Well?” Joseph said.

  “I think our job is done.”

  “You do?”

  “Danton will become a martyr; he died well and his support was only increased by his death. And that man in there is mad; he will hang himself soon enough, but I will stay just to watch his unravelling.”

  On a beautiful summer’s day in July, Robespierre was intent on giving a speech before the National Convention. Guards lined up in front of the door to stop him from entering the building.

  “What are you doing?” Robespierre objected.

  “We are arresting you, sir,” said Joseph, who wanted to be there in the final days.

  “Arresting me? You don’t have the authority.”

  “I am afraid we do.” At this moment guards from Robespierre’s Paris Commune flooded the streets; they had expected something. The French victories abroad had made the Jacobins, of whom Robespierre was a leading member, fear for their own safety. Robespierre’s soldiers were suspicious; they had expected a coup, and soon.

  When Robespierre saw them coming he smiled and said to Joseph, “Go home. You will not be arresting anyone today, but believe me there will be consequences to your actions.”

  Isabella now came out from the crowd and walked towards Robespierre. The Paris Commune Guar
ds were pointing their guns at Joseph’s soldiers. Joseph’s soldiers were pointing their muskets towards the Paris Commune Guards and there in the middle of it all were Isabella and Robespierre. Joseph looked on anxiously. He did not see a way out of this for any of them. Isabella lifted up her hand and whispered to the soldiers, “Don’t see me,”excluding Joseph and Robespierre from her deception.

  “Do you see a way out of this?” Isabella asked Joseph.

  “I don’t,” Joseph laughed, keeping his sense of humour as he faced his own death.

  “Well, I promised you a chance to atone.”

  “I don’t know that I wanted to atone this badly,” Joseph smiled, but he was prepared to meet his maker if that is what it took for him to atone. Isabella smiled as well; she always saw through his flippant words. She turned to Robespierre; he was standing there his head held high. From his outward appearance he looked unafraid of his impending death. Isabella leaned over and whispered in his ear.

  “He who pretends to look on death without fear lies. Do you know who said that?” A single trickle of sweat slid down Robespierre’s forehead as he immediately recognised Rousseau’s words. Isabella wiped the sweat from Robespierre’s brow; he reacted jerkily to her touch. The soldiers who could not see Isabella thought that Robespierre was signalling to them. Joseph’s soldiers were also prepared to shoot. A young soldier in the Paris Commune guards fired, and then others rang out. Isabella pushed both Robespierre and Joseph to the ground, veiling them both from the crossfire of shots. The commune guards were soon overpowered by the Joseph’s troops and the brief state of panic was over. Isabella got up and dragged Robespierre up with her; blood was pouring from his jaw. For the first time in his life Robespierre had been silenced, and by an errant shot from his own loyal guards.

  “Are you in pain?” Isabella asked. Robespierre looked at her and made no attempt to tell her anything. “I know you are,” said Isabella. She herself had been shot several times, but the bullets had left her body as quickly as they had entered it. Joseph, who had been protected by Isabella, was unscathed.

  “Take him away,” Joseph stated, and his soldiers led Robespierre to prison. Joseph looked over at Isabella. “Why did you save him?” he asked.

  “He has sent so many to the Guillotine I would not deprive him of the pleasure of experiencing it for himself. I want him to hear the shouts of the Bourgeoisie ringing out through the air, shouting “Long Live the Republic” as he gets led up the steps of the platform. I want him to know that the revolution was always bigger than him. It didn‘t need him for it to survive.”

  “All right, then, why did you save me?”

  Isabella turned to Joseph and smiled. “What would I do without you turning up to bestow your Irish wisdom upon me?”

  “Good point”

  Isabella smiled again. “And besides, you saved my life; it was only right that I returned the favour.”

  “Isabella, I have to tell you something. I didn’t save….” Joseph turned to face Isabella. As he did so, he saw Vlad out of the corner of his eye. Vlad was staring at Joseph intently; Vlad shook his head to stop Joseph from telling Isabella what really happened that day.

  “Well,” Isabella said. “What do you really have to tell me?”

  “I tried to kill Leila, but I couldn’t.”

  “Is that all? I wouldn’t have expected you to be able to do that.”

  “She holds the remainder of the only thing that can help me kill her.”

  “She doesn’t. I smashed the bottle, and now none of you can die. We shall see. If there is another way, I will find it. Leila will not occupy her space on this earth for too much longer.”

  Joseph and Isabella watched as the soldiers and Robespierre disappeared into the skyline. “They are going now to arrest the others St. Just, Labas, Henriot—all of them. It‘s finally over,” said Joseph.

  “I will make sure of it,” Isabella said.

  “What about me, what shall I do?”

  “Go back to Ireland with a clear conscience.”

  “How can I go back and face the people there?”

  “You can.” Isabella placed her hands on Joseph’s face and whispered, “Forget me, forget all of this.”

  Joseph woke up the next day with no guilt at all, just an overwhelming desire to go home, and that is what he did.

  Isabella went to the prison the day after Robespierre was executed. She wanted to make sure all those who supported Robespierre would follow him to the Guillotine. She used her influence to infiltrate the prison and she walked from cell to cell checking to see who was condemned and who was not and who should be. She soon espied a young man, a soldier condemned to death. He was insignificant looking, short and chubby, and there was nothing in his appearance to recommend him.

  “What has he done?” Isabella asked the prison guard.

  “He is traitor to France,” the prison guard answered.

  “No, he is not, let him go, surely there has been enough needless killing?”

  “There has, you are right,” the prison guard quickly agreed, with no idea why he was agreeing with this woman, just following the compulsion to do so. “Do you hear that, Bonaparte, you have been granted a reprieve.” The prison warden opened his cell and the young soldier walked out and bowed in gratitude to Isabella. Isabella stretched out her hand and the young soldier kissed it. Isabella saw glimpses of his future when he touched her. She saw the resurrection of France and the end of the revolution. She saw the French flag marching across Europe. This man would restore France to a greatness it had never even come close to before.

  “Stand up,” Isabella said. “I can see you have great things ahead of you.” The soldier bowed and then left Isabella.

  Everything was as she had predicted. Robespierre had been killed; he had been unable, because of his shattered jaw, to address his people. But he soon realised they were not his people any more. Robespierre’s supporters fell. All their clubs were shut down and ninety were executed the day after Robespierre. More moderate revolutionaries, the Thermodoreans, took over and France began to rebuild itself. The reign of terror was over. Isabella had fulfilled her promise to Marc de la Nostredame and she now felt it was time to leave Paris and find some other country to inhabit.

  DENN DIE TODTEN REITEN SCHNELL

  FOR THE DEAD TRAVEL FAST

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  With no Joseph at her side, Isabella was alone again. She left France and traveled east again. She had not seen Katya’s family in a generation and felt honour bound to return, for she felt she had abandoned them. She travelled expeditiously, but her swift journey came to an end before its destination. She arrived at Bistrita, needing time to think.

  What was she going to say to Nadezhda‘s son? What was she going to say to her husband, if he was still alive? She was afraid of the reception she would receive there. Nadezhda’s child would be a man by now with a family of his own. Isabella would not have blamed him if he held her totally responsible for his mother’s death, for she felt completely responsible. These thoughts troubled Isabella’s mind.

  Isabella sat in the inn at Bistrita, staring at the fire. There was a storm brewing up outside. Every time the door opened the flames flickered, but Isabella was paying no heed to who was coming or going, so she did not notice when a man sat down in front of her. He stared at the Vampire, recognizing her, but she did not even lift her gaze to acknowledge him.

  “Isabella.”

  She raised her eyes. It was Nadezhda’s husband. He had aged, but Isabella recalled his face.

  “Vilem, it is good to see you,” Isabella said.

  “Is it?” he asked.

  “Of course. How is your family? I was on my way to see them.”

  “I don’t know.”

  “What do you mean you don‘t know?”

  “I left soon after Nadezhda died,” he answered.

  Isabella looked curiously at Vilem. “Why, what about your son? I told you to stay with him,” she scolded.<
br />
  “I could not, after what happened.”

  “You should have stayed with your family! Do you not realise how important family is? What have you been doing all this time?”

  “Hunting Vampires,”

  Isabella was astonished, even though Vilem had said this in earnest.

  “What good would that do? You can’t kill them when you find them.”

  “But you can.”

  “I can’t.”

  “You did before.”

  “I don’t believe this; you have been searching for Vampires you couldn’t even kill. You can’t have found many—my kind are few.”

  “Even so, another Vampire occupies this town.”

  “Who, Vlad?”

  “No, a woman.” Isabella stepped forward, leaning into him. Vilem pulled back from her, but Isabella continued to confront him. She could feel his hot, shallow breath on her skin.

  “Where is she?” Isabella snarled.

  “She’s close by; she has been following you.”

  “Vilem, you have to stay away from her. She will kill you, especially if she sees you talking to me. Tell me precisely where she is,” Isabella demanded.

  “She is staying near here.”

  “Where, Vilem tell me where? Be specific, and then go home,” Isabella said anxiously. She was determined that no members of Katya’s family would be hurt again.

  “I will show you.”

  “All right,” Isabella relented, sensing Vilem’s determination to go with her. “But then you must go home.” Vilem made no response. “You must go home, Vilem,” Isabella repeated, until he finally nodded to placate her.

  Isabella beheld Leila. She had taken a house that was not her own. If Isabella was being honest with herself she could not fault Leila for this, for she had done the same thing many a time. Isabella did not know how long she had been living there. She wondered the extent of Leila’s power. If she was following Isabella, how was it that Isabella had not sensed her presence? Could she cloak herself from her? Isabella could identify a Vampire simply by looking at them. She could even sense them when they were close.