Chronicles of Darkness: Shadows and Dust (5 page)

         Andrej joined
her, placing one hand on the vampire's shoulder, which she gratefully took.

         "I wish
I could undo the incident," she said, her voice a hoarse whisper.
"Her death was unnecessary. I should have resisted more. It was not the time."

         Andrej
wrinkled his forehead. "What are you talking about?"

         "I
answered the call of her blood even though it was not the time." Sadden
explained.

         Andrej tried
to console her. "Sadden don't. Don't take the blame upon your shoulders.
You're not only..."

         Sadden shook
her head. "I am just as guilty as if it had been my own hands that broke
her neck." The vampire solely blamed her unrestrained blood thirst for the
tragedy, which had come to pass.

         "How did
it happen anyway?" Andrej asked.

         Sadden sighed.
"I played directly into Lilith's hands. Poor Madeleine. Lilith had
promised the girl to make her one of us. According to the old laws, it is
forbidden to transform humans and we both knew it. As Madeleine was standing in
front of me, I could not withstand the calling of her blood. I saw the pulsing
vein on her throat. The hunger overwhelmed me and gained control."

         Andrej
swallowed hard upon hearing about the battle she had been fighting against
herself. "I know how much this is tormenting you. Your sympathy for others
is so strong. I know it breaks your heart every time you have to follow your
urges. Sadden, you have more empathy than some humans."

         "It is a
curse. In order to survive, I have to kill others. After every feeding, my
conscience tortures me. I have been walking this earth many centuries. One
should assume it would get easier for me as time goes by, but unfortunately, it
is not."

         "I'm
happy about it. Your conscience is what represents you," Andrej said,
honest. "Your strong will to suppress your urges honors you and puts you
above others."

         A weak smile
appeared on Sadden's face. "Thank you, for trying to lift my
spirits." Inside she knew that her friend's cheerful words would not
change anything about her situation. Lost in thought, she regarded the burning
fire.

         "What
are you going to do now?" Andrej inquired. "I mean, concerning our
guest?"

         Sadden was
undecided. "Let us wait and see what time will tell. But I am certain of
one thing. Lilith of the Dragon Clan will learn to respect humans." She
made this promise to her friend, who nodded satisfied.

         "Alright.
But, if nothing comes of it, we could always spank the spoiled brat to get her
to behave," Andrej said cheekily, while keeping a straight face.

         A bitter
laugh escaped Sadden at the thought of it. "I have to admit, this idea has
crossed my mind as well."

         Andrej nodded
in agreement. "I'm going to retire to my rooms, unless there is anything
else I can do for you?"

         "No,
thank you, Andrej. I can manage."

         Her friend
went back inside the castle and the vampire's gaze returned to the funeral
pyre. A lonely tear rolled down her pale cheek. "Now you are free,
Madeleine. May your soul find the peace it deserves."

         Morning
broke, and the first light of the new day chased away the cold air of the past
night. The town, Paris, awoke, to start its usual daily work.

         Only in one
abandoned house, in the
Quartier Latin
, silence still reigned. The
run-down building had once been a grand mansion. It surrounded a square courtyard,
which was dark, due to the plants that had grown unimpeded. The palace had four
floors and was in a disastrous condition. In many places the facade was
crumbling and falling off the wet walls. The big windows had been nailed shut
with boards, and heavy iron bars made sure that no unwanted visitor could
enter. That was exactly what Chalice had wanted. For a very low price, she had
rented the place for her Master.

         She stepped
out of the plain back door and took a look around, making sure that nobody had
noticed her presence. At this time of day, not one human soul lurked, in this
secluded alley. She took one last searching glance at her present home, turned
the rusty key to lock the door and put it under her cloak.

         Grumpy and
tired, Chalice pulled the hood of her dark-green cloak over her head.
"He's sleeping like a baby in his coffin, but I'm not allowed to get any
rest. Day and night I'm out there, searching out new
Angels
for him. His
absurd conditions don't make it any easier. Virgins, beautiful and noble they
have to be. Pah, as if there are a lot of such girls around here. They can't be
found like pebbles on a river shore. And then, I'm not allowed to have any fun
at all. I'm not the one who will give us away. He will. With his special wishes!
If our hunters figure out his pattern of prey, they will find us, and then we
will have to flee, head over heels."

         After walking
through some alleys, she came upon one of the new boulevards. These had been
built by the king, instead of big fortification walls. The old night watchman
extinguished the last street lamps, and Chalice watched the early hustle and
bustle of the civilians of Paris. The first customers were already haggling
with the merchants, and the traders showed off their goods from foreign and
exotic countries. The maids and servants came from their villages, to sell or
buy fresh fruits and vegetables on the daily market. Chalice picked up a red
apple from one of the carts, and disappeared in the increasing crowd.
Unimpressed, she walked among them, their voices buzzing muffled in her ears.

         "How I
despise this town. I hate living here. I hate it!" Chalice growled, as she
took a bite of the succulent, sweet fruit. „Of all places, why did we have to
come back here?"

         The flow of
the people led her directly to the
Île de la Cité
. For awhile, she stood
at the bridge
Pont Neuf
, gazing thoughtfully at the dirty water that
flowed beneath. Chalice became haunted by the horrible memories of her past...

            "Maman!
Maman," screamed the six-year-old girl, tears streaming down her cheeks as
she tried to glance over the railing of the bridge
to the other side.
Two policemen tore the rag-covered girl away. One of them picked her up, and
Chalice was able to cast a glance to the embankment. Horror was evident in her
innocent eyes, as the cruel image was forever burnt into her memory. Without
any clothes, her young mother lay there in the mud of the
Seine
. Her
bruised body was covered with numerous wounds, a tortured expression on her
pale face.

            "Maman!
Maman! I want my Maman!"

            But the
policeman carried her out of view of the crime scene, and put her down on a
bench next to his colleague.

            "What
are we going to do with the little brat? Orphanage or workhouse?"

            "Neither.
The little one has an aunt, Marie Colbert, she and her mother were living with.
This woman also identified the body."

            "Do
we know anything about how it happened?"

            Indifference
was heavy in their voices. "Just the usual. It seems the prostitute got
stabbed by one of her customers. So, no real case for us. She's going to be
buried somewhere out of town, with the other poor people, since her sister
doesn't want to spend any money for a real funeral. But, she can't refrain from
taking in the girl. We are going to deliver the little one to her. Let the
Colbert woman take care of the brat."

            Chalice
was brought out of her apathy as the man grabbed her arm to drag her along. She
started to fight him with all of her might. "No, no, no! I don't want to
go to Aunt Marie! I want to see my Maman!"

            The
officer became frustrated and roughly pulled her along the street. "Accept
it! Your mother is dead! She's not coming back!"

            Turning
her head again and again, the girl tried desperately to hang on to the picture
of
Pont Neuf
that started to fade. "MAMAN!"...

         "No, I
mustn't hold on to the past." Chalice shook her head to clear her mind.
She turned around and leaned back against the railing. Regarding the cathedral
of
Notre-Dame
, she said, scornfully, "Dedicated to our
Blessed
Virgin Mary
, a monument of stone. Epitome of our
Holy Mother Church
.
I spit on it!"

         The sun
climbed behind the sacral building to take its usual place in the sky. Chalice
closed her eyes to little slits, blinking in the bright sunlight. "Maybe I
should go inside the cathedral, since I'm going to be Azrael's bloodmate soon.
After that, I won't set one foot into this town, ever again."

         Optimistically,
the young woman hurried along the street. Soon, she reached the big plaza in
front of
Notre-Dame
. On the stairs, she slowed the speed of her steps.
Confidently, she entered through the middle portal, underneath the big Sainte
Chappell Stained Rosary.

         The street
noise faded immediately and a feeling of uneasiness overcame Chalice. She
strode through the empty rows right to the high altar. The sheer size of the
room intimidated her. Her foot-steps echoed mercilessly through the high room,
and she looked around distrustfully, but only some church servants were
present. They didn't seem to notice her. Chalice's concentration returned to
the altar room. Sunlight fell through the big, gothic windows, creating a
fascinating play of colors with the Christian motives they held. She couldn't
deny the awe-inspiring beauty of the building. This feeling fled soon enough,
and a tremendous, long accrued hatred awoke instead. She stood in front of the
altar cross, and screamed at the top of her lungs, "Who allows that you
are given such magnificent buildings?"

         Chalice
hesitated and listened, as if she was waiting for an answer. Then she continued
furiously, "What are you doing for us to deserve such glamour? You left me
all alone! A child! You left me to cruel fate..." Exhausted, she slumped
on the steps in front of the altar and sobbed. "That's just not
right."

         Concerned,
one of the church servants came over, wanting to assist her in getting up.

         Chalice mood
swung again, and she was overcome with fear. "W-What am I doing
here?" she whispered confused. She became aware of the sexton and shouted,
"I'm not a slave to your belief! I know the truth!" Chalice's body was
trembling. She grabbed the terrified man's robes and pulled him towards her.
"The people think they are obliging him with absolute humility, but they
are just stupid to submit to his rule!"

         Whispering
and with eyes wide open, she added, "Isn't that madness?"

         The fear in
the man's eyes increased, as did unbelief about what she had said. "That's
opprobrious blasphemy, Mademoiselle! Please, consider your words. Otherwise, I
will be forced to inform the bishop about this incident."

         Chalice
chuckled and her laughter echoed hundredfold throughout the nave. "I'm not
scared of you. Not anymore. I'm far above you ignorant people, looking down on
you with great disdain. Do you hear me, God? Do you hear my words? I hate you!
I hate you deadly!"

         Dismayed, the
sextons were crossing themselves. Then something unbelievable happened. The
elaborated picture of Mary and her child fell down. Its frame split, as it came
to rest on the altar slab.

         Shocked,
Chalice leapt up, staring at the perfect face of Mary, while the servants ran
around, headless. Chalice's tormented soul stirred in her heart, and she
retreated slowly.        Searching for help, she looked into the eyes of the
closest sexton, but he only said, "That's a sign from our Holy Mother of
God!"

         Chalice's
breathing increased, and she felt like a trapped animal. Scared, she turned
around and fled the church in a hurry, not looking back.

         Breathing
heavily, she stumbled on the steps. She didn't notice the scratches and bruises
the fall had caused. "I've left my old life behind me. How could this
incident affect me so? I have to get myself together." Painfully, she
grasped at her heart. "Why does it hurt so much? I don't want to feel the
pain. Never again." Under the watchful eyes of some civilians, she got up
and left the
Île de la Cité
.

         Lost in heavy
thoughts, Chalice reached one of the poor quarters of Paris. The alleys became
more angled. They were no longer paved, but dusty and dirty. An unbearable
stench floated up from the waste water canals, between the tiny huts. With
difficulty, she walked past the
Clochards
and day laborers, refraining
from making direct eye contact with the beggars. They reminded her of her harsh
childhood and that touched her painfully. "Why do I always have to do the
dirty work for the fine Monsieur?"

         Chalice was
abruptly brought out of her self-pity by three little girls with dirty faces,
who were playing and singing a tune she was very familiar with. "Frère
Jacques, Frère Jacques..."

The young woman stared
at the children, without intention, and the peaceful picture started to fade,
only to be replaced by a strict, female voice, which called out to her...

            "Chalice!
Have you been stealing apples at the market again?"

            Caught off
guard, Chalice turned around. "Maman?"

            But, in
front of her was a stocky, middle-aged woman with wrinkled hands and face, a
tell-tale sign of years spent at hard labor. "You useless brat. How often
did I tell you not to get caught? One day, you are going to end up in prison! Maybe
I should be glad about that. Then you wouldn't cause any more trouble for your
uncle and me. Sighing, she shook her head and went back to her work, washing
clothes.

            Chalice
followed her to the cramped, dark backyard, saying in a small voice, "I'm
sorry, Aunt Marie."

            Unimpressed,
her aunt scrubbed some sheets over the washboard and continued nagging.
"Kind like I am, I took you in, even though we don't have enough to eat
for ourselves, and what do I get in return? I only get small thanks, because
you can't even steal well! Célestin really left me a great inheritance. Good
for nothing!"

            The harsh
words of her aunt made the girl sad. "Aunt Marie."

            "Quit
your whining! Go and do something useful. You know what will happen when your
uncle comes home and hears about your mishap."

            The little
girl swallowed hard and thought about the leather belt, and the beatings she
received on her naked back.

            Marie
pushed her to the street and ordered, "You've got a pretty face. Use that.
Go to your cousins at the boulevard. Help them begging. And don't you dare come
back without some money!"

           
The years
of Chalice's childhood went by, always in the same rhythm. She hardened and
submitted to her fate. As she became older, Chalice needed to find another way
to earn money. In her situation there was only one way to accomplish that...

            It was one
of those cold and wet autumn nights, and Chalice had just turned thirteen, but
nobody remembered, least she herself. Covered with a threadbare cloak, she
strode through the dark alleys, always looking for work. Sniffling and
coughing, she ran into a tall man, who was completely wrapped in dark clothes.
Only his eyes could be seen. That was Chalice's fatal meeting with Azrael, the
vampire.

            "Looking
for a little intimate satisfaction?" Provocatively, she lifted her shabby
dress, revealing the naked lower part of her body.

            Frowning,
Azrael scrutinized the small, ill-looking form. "Whore, you may cover
yourself. There is nothing I want from you." He turned away and added,
"Besides, you stink to the high heavens, and you look like you are
spreading sicknesses around."