Chronicles of Darkness: Shadows and Dust (16 page)

         "Well, we wanted to
practice. Uh... something came up." After a pause the girl added, "Or
dare I say,
someone
." She rolled her eyes.

         Helena reached for her
daughter. She pulled her forward, until she was standing right beside her chair
so the huntress could wrap an arm around her. "Skylar, I don't understand
what you are trying to tell me. Where is Kyrian?" she wanted to know.

         Skylar sighed, looking at
her mother. "In the throes of love, I suppose. This Christine from the
funfair suddenly appeared. Nothing else mattered, except his adored one. I
mean, sure, she is kind of nice and all but... but... You should have seen him.
He was acting all weird."

         Helena seemed a bit
worried, but her musings were interrupted by her daughter. "Do you know
what happened just awhile ago?" Skylar asked, excited, remembering the
occurrence.

         "No, I don't, my
precious," Helena responded and smiled. "I'm sure you will tell
me."

         "Kyrian was boasting
that he could hit the handle of a pitchfork with the crossbow. And just as he
was taking aim, Christine appeared and Kyrian was so distracted, he didn't
notice that he had pulled the trigger," the blonde girl gushed with
sparkling eyes. "And then, the arrow got stuck in Jean's behind." She
giggled.

         Helena's eyes went wide.
"Good God! Is Jean hurt? How often did I tell you not to play with the
crossbow?!" she exclaimed, not the slightest bit amused.

         "No, Mama, no,"
Skylar replied, defending her brother and herself. She gently stroked her
mother's arm, which was still wrapped around her. "We were shooting with
arrows that don't have dangerous tips. Kyrian carved some from willow wood,
just so we can practice. Jean is not hurt very badly... he... he is... just
walking funny now." Skylar pressed her lips together tightly to keep from
laughing out loud.

         Helena sighed and was
relieved. "Well, that puts my heart at ease. Still, I will have to
reprimand Kyrian for being so careless. Did the two of you at least apologize
to Jean? I sincerely hope so."

         "Yes, Mama, we did.
And he is not mad at us," Skylar answered.

         "Good. Now, please,
put the crossbow back where it belongs. I don't want any other servants to see
it and unnecessary rumors to rise, if it can be avoided."

         Her daughter did as she
was told and stowed away the crossbow in its wooden chest. Then she went back
to Helena, her eyes falling on the books, parchments and scrolls her mother was
studying. "Mama? What are you searching for? Can I help you?" she
asked with great interest.

         "I'm afraid not,
precious. I'm trying to find clues such as to why our vampire acts like he
does. But there is nothing. Absolutely nothing about his behavior fits any
pattern we know," the huntress said, resignation heavy in her voice.

         "Well then, perhaps
he belongs to one of the clans," Skylar threw in, unsuspecting, taking the
paper with the heraldic animals into her hands.

         Brooding, her mother
regarded her. "Could it be possible?" Helena mumbled and her mind was
working feverishly. The huntress rose and began to pace. "Either that,
or... ? Well, I can only assume. After what Bernard told us, he is extremely
powerful. So, if he wasn't born a vampire, he must have been changed a very
long time ago. That makes him a member of his creator's clan. The power he
seems to have speaks against it. Nothing really fits together."

         "What if he does
belong to a clan?" her daughter asked again.

         "Oh, my sweetheart.
We shouldn't consider this possibility."

         Sullenly, Skylar sat on
one of the chairs, supporting her head with her hands, her legs swinging under
the table.

         Helena's mind almost spun
while she was trying to put the pieces of this more than complex puzzle
together. "It seems that our vampire follows his own rules. The drinking
of blood is no longer enough. Killing gives him pleasure. He feels superior to
the humans
,
plays cat and mouse with them and
relishes
it."

         "In other words, he
is just as unpredictable and crazy as the woman, who is with him?" Skylar
asked, looking at her mother with furrowed brows.

         Helena shook her head.
"No, no. Not crazy, more a devilish genius with the powers of an ancient
vampire. Something tremendous is happening here. This is not just about the
deaths of some nobles. But, no matter how I turn it and look at the facts from
different angles, I still can't find out
why
. It evades my imagination.
Whatever game he is playing, we have to defeat him."

         Their conversation was
interrupted
by a knock at the door. Monique entered
the library. "Madame Leosol, the Monsieur police chief is here and wishes
to speak to you."

         Helena nodded.
"Thank you, Monique. Please, send him in."

         "As you wish,
Madame," she responded, dropped a curtsey and left.

         As soon as she was gone,
Helena and Skylar quickly hid the documents.

         Shortly after that,
Michel Dutroit stepped into the library and greeted Helena with a firm
handshake. "Madame. Unfortunately, I bring bad news," he announced, a
bit dejected.

         Questioningly, Helena
arched her brows and looked at him
expectantly
.
"Tell me. What happened?"

         "He... um... he got
away, again."

         Helena closed her eyes
for a moment and rubbed her temples. Another strong headache was making itself
known.

*****

         The room of the abandoned
mansion
was
dark as Chalice entered. She was soaked through to the bones. The dress was
clinging tightly to her body, and her long, blonde hair
hung
in wet strands from her
head.

         In the dim glow of the
pale moonlight, which fell through the coarse slits of the shutters, she groped
her way to the table and fumbled for the matches. Hastily, she scratched one of
them over the uneven tabletop. With a hiss the white phosphorus lit up. Chalice
set the dancing flame on the wick of the oil lamp above her head and soft light
illuminated
the room. "My Master? My
Master, are you awake?" she asked with a slightly trembling voice.

         Silence was her only
answer.

         She sank to the floor,
pulled her legs to her chest and wrapped her arms around them. Chalice started
to rock her body from side to side, while her eyes darted restlessly across the
room. "My Master is not here, but he will be back soon, and he will
unleash all his fury upon me. Oh yes, he will! I'm sure, he will do that,"
she whispered chokingly. "Unforeseen and terrible, just like a
thunderstorm. I shouldn't have listened to the hunter. No, I shouldn't have
done that. If only I had not followed him inside the barn! There I wasted
precious
time with
unimportant, silly banter! Why did I do that? Why did I trust him? I don't
know, but it was wrong! Yes, wrong!"

         Her rocking grew faster,
more frantic. The madness in her eyes became more and more visible, and her
mood turned from fear to aggression. "But he will pay for that, the little
huntsman! He will pay! And his family also! He prevented me from doing my duty
for my Master. He twisted my mind and made my thoughts tumble with beautiful
words! He woke feelings inside me, feelings for him, feelings, I don't want to
have!" she screamed into the silence of the cold room and pounded the
carpet with her fists.

         For a while, she remained
like that, until she regained control of her emotions. The young woman rose,
took off her wet clothes and slipped into a new, clean and dry dress. Chalice
grabbed a delicate
ivory
comb
and ran it
through her wet locks to get some order into her unruly hair. "I will be beautiful
again, beautiful for my Master, so that he will forgive me," she said.
Slowly, a tiny smile formed on her pale face.

         "Now, look who
decided to come home at last," a dark voice sounded behind her and
Chalice's heart leapt painfully in her chest.

         Filled with fear, she
whirled around and was confronted with Azrael's angry face.           Unmoving,
he stood beside the door. His eyes burnt with unrestrained fury and their harsh
stare forced the young woman to fall on her knees in front of him.

         Her whole body trembled
with fear and she couldn't move.

         "Where have you
been?!" the vampire thundered dangerously and took a step towards the
pathetic, crouching figure at his feet.

         Chalice couldn't answer,
because the fear had not only frozen her body, but also her tongue.

         "Madame, I am more
than sorry to have to disturb you at this late hour, with such bad
news..." the police chief began while looking at Helena, who strode with
crossed arms through the library, an expression of absolute concentration on
her beautiful face. "...but, I didn't know where else to go," Michel
continued, released a sigh and fell onto the small settee next to the
fireplace.

         Skylar was still sitting
at the table, her ears firmly on the conversation between her mother and the
police chief. At the same time, her curious eyes searched the documents in
front of her with great interest.

         The head of the Leosols
stopped pacing, her eyes fixed on Michel. A friendly smile formed on her face
as she tried to lift the man's spirits. "It is not your fault. There is no
way to be everywhere at once, in order to guard everything."

         "That may be true,
but I also have something positive to report," he remarked, returning her
smile.

         "You do?"
Helena arched her brows, questioningly.

         "Even though the
culprit managed to escape again, he wasn't able to finish his horrible deed
this time."

         The huntress nodded
seriously, and sadness was heavy in her voice as she said, "Indeed, it is
good to know that the victim still possesses her heart, so she may find
salvation in heaven."

         "Excuse me, Madame,
it seems I didn't express myself correctly. This time, there is no victim.
Mattieu Derriére, one of my best men, prevented the worst. The Countess
Juliette Marceaux is still alive and in good health," Michel interrupted.
"It is really amazing."

         "What do you
mean?" Helena wanted to know.

         "Well, this crazy
bastard spread fear and terror among the population of Paris," Michel
explained. "For months there was nothing we could do about it. But now, it
seems that we are very close to arresting him. Yes, I'm sure. It is only a
matter of time until we can lock up this lunatic. They probably are going to
have him beheaded right away. Then all people will finally be able to sleep peacefully
again," the excited police chief speculated.

         "Better not do that,
Monsieur Dutroit," the huntress warned him urgently. "Don't make the
mistake of overestimating yourself and your men. It is even more important not
to underestimate the murderer."

         Michel jumped from the
settee and went over to Helena. "With all due respect, Madame. We nearly
had him! We were very close to arresting him," he announced a bit miffed
that Helena didn't trust his and his men's skills.

         The huntress sighed.
"There is nothing to be said against this. But the population of Paris is
not safe, and won't be safe for some time. He is playing a game with you.
Everything that happens is because he wants it that way. He wants you to
believe that you are getting close to him. But in reality, you are getting
trapped deeper and deeper inside the web he is weaving," she said, rubbing
at her temple, which was pounding from the strong headache. "Like you
said, you
almost
caught him."

         Piqued, Michel pulled a
face.

         The huntress didn't give up
and warned more urgently, "You do not know whom you are dealing with here.
He will be back to finish his deed and nothing, absolutely nothing will be able
to stop him."

         The police chief waved
off her concern. "Pah! He shall come. My men and I are ready, and this
time, we will get him. One thing is for sure, he will not be able to place his
dirty paws on the Countess Marceaux a second time," he stated.

         Helena shook her blonde
locks. "You can't be certain. Like I already explained, do not
underestimate him. You have no idea about the devil you chose to tangle
with."

         Michel stroked his beard
slightly. His brown eyes narrowed, scrutinizing her. "Apparently, you know
far more about the culprit than you are telling me, Madame Leosol. Are you
hiding something from me?" he
challenged.

         Helena's heart missed a
beat, but she kept her face motionless. "I don't know what you are talking
about," she replied innocently, her gaze easily standing up to his glare.

         Silence fell as they
stared at each other, but then the police chief took one step backward.
"Please accept my apology
. I didn't mean to
start a fight.
You are right, Paris is not safe yet."

         "I would like to
speak with the
Countess
Marceaux. I also wish
to investigate the crime scene and talk with Monsieur Derriére, your man, who
was so fortunate of preventing a murder. Would that be possible?"

         Michel nodded in
confirmation.
"Tell me when and I will see what
I can do about it."

         "Now," the
huntress announced casually.

         The police chief's mouth
fell open and he stared at her in surprise. "You mean
right now
?"

         Helena smiled brightly,
winking. "I did say that, didn't I? Or maybe there is something wrong with
your ears, Monsieur?"

         It took a moment for
Michel to regain his composure. Whenever she smiled at him, he felt his chest
warm, a feeling of great happiness spreading through his body. He cleared his
throat in embarrassment, hoping that he wasn't blushing, but the glowing of his
ear tips was telling otherwise. Rubbing the nape of his neck, he answered, "No
Madame, my ears are working just fine. There is just one tiny problem. The
Countess and her family have already left the country. She is not available for
an interrogation." Searching, he reached inside an inner pocket of his
jacket. "But, fortunately... where is it... ah, I've got it." He
pulled out a small, well-worn notebook and held it out to the huntress. "I
have spoken with the Countess shortly after the incident. I wrote down
everything she could tell me about the circumstances. Maybe you have use for it,
Madame Leosol." Confidently, he waved with the small book.

         Helena took it from his
hands and placed it on the table. "Thank you very much, Monsieur Dutroit.
I am sure, it will be of great value for me. But now, we really shouldn't waste
any more precious time. I really would like to inspect the crime scene as soon
as possible and talk to Monsieur Derriére."

         "Alright, if that is
your wish."

         Helena nodded and turned
to her daughter. "Skylar, come. I want you to accompany me."

         The outcry of happiness, which
she was expecting from the girl, failed to come.

         The police chief tried in
vain to contain his laughter. "It seems to me that your daughter is very
engrossed in her reading. Or maybe, she is sleeping with her eyes wide open?
Well, it is kind of late, and someone so young probably belongs in bed at this
time. Your son could come with us, if you want?"

         Wrinkling her forehead,
Helena looked at her daughter and didn't hear what Michel was saying.

         Secretly, Skylar had
taken out the parchment with the clan symbols. She seemed to be hypnotized, her
eyes staring unmoving at the old piece of paper.

         The huntress took hold of
a small shoulder and shook her gently. "Skylar? Precious?"

         Her thoughts interrupted,
the girl snapped out of her trance. "Mama? What... what's wrong?"

         Helena put the paper back
into the leather case. "We have to go."

Skylar looked at her,
questioningly. "Go? Where to?"

         The huntress smirked.
"You will see soon."

*****

         "Answer my question,
Chalice! Where have you been?" Azrael roared, outraged. Roughly, he
grabbed the trembling woman kneeling at his feet and pulled her upward. "I
demand an explanation! This night, I didn't get what I was craving and that is
entirely your fault!" One of his gloved hands closed around her throat and
pressed her into the wall, choking her.

         Chalice gasped, tiny,
black dots started to dance before her eyes as both her hands clawed at the one
of her master, trying desperately to break the tight grip. "Ma-ster...
pl-plea-se... l-let... m-me... ex-pl-plain," she finally croaked out
hoarsely.

         Azrael's eyes blazed
furiously, but the grip around her throat loosened somewhat. "Explain?
Yes! I recommend you do that right away!" the vampire growled
threateningly.

         Chalice took a deep
breath and swallowed a few times, before she began in a slightly trembling
voice, "My Master, do you remember the hunter clan, whose members bear the
tattoo of a lion's head on the nape of their necks?"

         "The Leosols?"
he enquired, slowly letting his hand drop.

         Chalice nodded, hesitantly
rubbing her sore throat.

         Azrael removed his black
cape and slipped out of his black leather gloves. With great care, he placed
the cape across the backrest of a stuffed chair and threw the gloves on the
table. He turned back to the blonde woman. "What about the Leosols?"

         With utmost caution,
Chalice drew closer to him. Suddenly, she blurted with a tiny smile on her full
lips, "They are here." She stressed every word.

         "What did you
say?" Azrael asked again, thinking he had heard wrong.

         "I have seen them,
even talked with them. There is no doubt, my Master! The hunter clan is here.
The
hunters!" Excited, she began to prance. "That is the reason I
returned just now. I wanted all the information I could get about the hunters,
before revealing their presence to you," she continued, clapping her
hands, gleefully.

         "Are you absolutely
sure?"

         "Yes, yes!" she
reaffirmed strongly.

         Contemplating, the
vampire stroked his beard, while the corners of his mouth slowly lifted.
"What a nice surprise. Our game becomes more interesting." His
outburst of rage was forgotten and made way for a devilish grin on Azrael's
pale face. "Well, I didn't plan on meeting vampire hunters here. Despite
that, I can't help but be happy to meet the last of the mighty hunter clan, and
destroy them," he declared maliciously and sank into his armchair.

         "You will wipe them
out completely, right, my Master? You are going to kill the whole family,
right?" Chalice's face radiated pure glee at the thought of another blood
bath. Insane giggling erupted from her throat. She sat down on the floor, at
the feet of her master. She wrapped her arms around his legs and gently rubbed
her cheek against his knees. One thought was ruling her mind.
'Now, I have
proven my worthiness to my Master. As a reward, he will finally turn me into a
vampire.'

         One of Azrael's hands
slid into her long, light blonde hair. "Of course, I will destroy them.
But before I can do that, you must tell me everything you found out.

         His companion told him
all. Almost everything. Prudently, she refrained from telling him about the
chaos of feelings, which whirled inside her, and also that Kyrian was the
cause.

         Relaxed and bare-chested,
the vampire lay on his stomach, on top of the bed, his arms wrapped around a
silky pillow, on which his bearded chin rested.

         Chalice was sitting on
his butt, a small flask, containing scented oil, in her hand. Carefully, she
tilted the flask and dribbled the oil all over Azrael's back. The pleasant
fragrance of sandalwood filled the room as Chalice started to rub the viscous
fluid into the vampire's skin.

         "Oh, that feels
great," Azrael moaned satisfied and closed his eyes, while Chalice's
slender fingers danced gracefully across his back.

         "My Master?"
she asked hesitantly. Actually, she really didn't want to disturb the vampire's
peaceful mood, but there was one question she just needed an answer to.

         "Mmhhh?"

         "What are you
intending to do? I mean, concerning the hunters."

         "What are you
worried about, Chalice? There is nothing to fear. A woman and her two children
are no threat. The whole situation is completely, outrageously simple.
Ridiculous in fact!" He shook his head slightly and laughed, amused at the
thought of facing off with the hunters.

         "What do you mean,
my Master?" Chalice inquired.

         "It is written that
the Leosols are the most powerful vampire hunters ever. Now I find out, the
clan consists only of a weak woman and her two brats. I think that is quite
funny, don't you?"

         "Of course, my
Master," Chalice agreed. "But still, isn't there a bit of truth to
every legend? Whoever said there are not more of them?"