Chronicles of Darkness: Shadows and Dust (9 page)

         "Attention! The
police chief has arrived at the crime scene!"

         All policemen present
stood to attention, greeting their highest superior with a loud and clear,
"Bonjour, Monsieur Dutroit!"

         Unnerved, he answered,
"Oui, oui. Proceed, gentlemen."

         The policemen looked on
in surprise, while one of them led the chief and Helena to the place of the
horrible deed. In front of the room's door, the man cleared his throat and
said, "The room hasn't been entered since we discovered the dead women. To
us the situation seemed quite... um... delicate. Everything is still untouched,
Monsieur le Directeur."

         Impatiently, Monsieur
Dutroit responded, "C'est bon. Open the door now. Don't keep us waiting
any longer."

         The policeman fetched a
long, iron key from his pocket and unlocked the door of the room, which was
still dark, because of the closed curtains. A horrible stench, reminding human
senses of a slaughter house, escaped from it. Immediately the three of them
covered their faces with their arms, to keep from becoming overwhelmed by the
smell of death.

         "For the love of
God, open the windows, right now!" Monsieur Dutroit panted. "The
stench is unbearable!"

         The policeman hurried to
carry out the order of his superior. Forceful, he pulled the curtains aside and
unlocked the windows. The warm, red light of the sinking sun couldn't even
attempt to veil the horrible scenario, which spread out in front of their
shocked eyes. Helena felt sick to her stomach, even though she had witnessed
many revolting things in her life.

         Monsieur Dutroit
articulated what the huntress merely thought. "Mon dieu! What kind of
monster is able to do something like that?" Three pairs of eyes gazed upon
the poor soul at their feet. This first look was enough to have them turn away,
to flee from the cruel image. The police chief went to the window that had been
opened. His whole body was shaking, and he couldn't bear to turn around again.
"I've never seen anything like this in all my years as a policeman,"
he choked out of his dry throat. "Just what is becoming of our beautiful
Paris? What is happening to make cruel things like this possible?"

         The other policeman fled
the room. Sounds of retching and spitting could be heard. While Helena pulled
out a handkerchief to protect her somewhat from the smell, Monsieur Dutroit
untied his neck kerchief and wrapped it around his mouth and nose. "These
young fellows today," he snorted. "They can't take anything. Well, I
guess it is understandable."

         Both turned to the body.
"This has to be Colette Lescoit, the governess. At least, I think it's
her, ensuing from the rest of her clothes. Not much more to say, I think...
she's been completely gutted..." Stunned, he leaned forward to look at her
head. "There is not much left of her face. It looks like she got run over
by a cart."

         Helena was more
interested in the governess' throat and any marks left behind, although she
couldn't detect any traces of bites on the twisted neck. The huntress tried to
fit the puzzle pieces together, but everything seemed confusing and
disconnected. She noticed that the governess still had her heart, even if it
lay outside of her body, on the blood-soaked carpet.

         The police chief
interrupted her thoughts. "Are you looking for anything in specific,
Madame?"

         Helena shook her head.
"No, no", she answered, embarrassed. "If you allow me, I would
like to have a look at the baroness."

         Monsieur Dutroit nodded.
"According to the report, she is in her room, lying in bed. Also, her body
has not been as horrendously battered."

         Helena opened the
connecting door and stepped into the room, examining it. She carefully searched
for any clues that would lead her to the culprit. Through the door, she could
hear Monsieur Dutroit talking harshly to his men, "Oui, I looked at her and
you can carry the body away. By God, what are you doing? Cover her with a
sheet! I don't want people to make a big fuss about this. Also, I would like to
know, how it was possible for the press to know about this, before we were
informed. It was supposed to be top secret!... What?... Then put it in a
bucket! I want
everything
taken for further investigations! And, damn it
all... do something about this abominable stench!"

         Compassionately, Helena
looked at the bloodless female on the bed. "Simone de Francois. Poor
child, so young and beautiful. You didn't deserve such an early death. Your
life had just begun." Gently Helena brushed the hair aside and uncovered
the dead woman's throat. There she found the typical bite marks she had been
looking for.

         The huntress remembered
Bernard's words and repeated, "In the silvery light of the moon you seem
like innocent angels." She paused, regarded the dead girl and then added,
"You all would be angels in garden Eden indeed, if he hadn't betrayed you."
Slowly Helena lowered the girl's nightgown a bit. Her face hardened as she saw
stitches in the place where once a heart was beating. "Neatly cut
out," she whispered. "Just as I thought."

         Now more determined than
ever, Helena made it her one objective to track down the vampire as quickly as
possible. Concentrating, she looked around the room. "Everything in here
seems to be untouched... but the parlor looks like a battle field. Clearly, two
different signatures. Bernard told the truth. They work together."

         Helena glanced at the
little basin, her blurred reflection stared back at her. "Hmm... Water
mixed with blood... but nothing that refers to the vampire's whereabouts. It's
no use. I need the names and addresses of all noble girls, who live in and
around Paris. For that, I must have Monsieur's Dutroit's help," she
mumbled thoughtfully. "Hopefully he won't get suspicious." It was a
risk the huntress had to take. "Alright, I need to hurry and warn my
children. We have to act quickly. The vampire and his companion must not detect
our presence here."

         Sighing, her thoughts
turned to the impending discussion with Kyrian and Skylar. "They will not
like being instructed to not leave the castle after dusk. Until I have clarity
of the vampire's hideout, I will not subject them to any danger."

         Helena left the room and
went out to the street, taking a few deep breaths. Then she joined the police
chief, who was busy supervising the loading of the bodies. Monsieur Dutroit
shook his head and said in a bitter voice, "One of the windows was already
open. It seems like the murderer couldn't bear the stench either. And one of
these fools closed the window!" Monsieur Dutroit ran a hand through his
dark hair. "I didn't know that such horror would await us here. Will you
help us, Madame?" he asked.

         Helena nodded. "I
will do everything possible," she responded firmly.

*****

         Night had fallen. Sadden
had retreated to read in silence. She relished the seclusion of this room. It
had a bay window and was comfortably furnished. A big fireplace dominated it,
spreading light and warmth.

         Andrej entered and the
vampire looked up. She had been waiting for him.

         "You wanted to talk
to me?" he asked, unsuspecting.

         "Yes. I have a
request."

         "About what?"

         Sadden sighed, because it
was hard for her to ask this of him. "Actually, it is more a wish of mine
than a request."

         "Now you are making
me curious, Sadden. What is it?"

         "I want
you
to
become Lilith's mentor."

         Clearly surprised, he
pointed a finger at himself. "
Me
?"

         "Yes, you. I want
you to teach her all about humanity."

         In his confusion, the
words tumbled from his mouth. "Humanity? I? To a vampire? Why? How?"

         "By simply being
yourself."

         Andrej slumped into the
nearest armchair, trying to process what he had just heard. "But
Sadden," he began. "What am I supposed to do with her? I'm not sure
if that is such a great idea."

         "I believe so."

         Doubtful, Andrej eyed
her, trying to figure out Sadden's reasons. Eventually, he relented to her
wish. "It will be a tough lection."

         Sadden smiled. "For
all of us."

*****

         At a late hour, a person
was creeping silently through the narrow byways of Paris, always careful to
avoid the sparse light of the street lamps and sticking to the shadows,
unacknowledged. She pressed herself against cold house walls, peered around
corners to make sure that nobody could see her. Some moments later, Helena
reached her destination.

         The imposing size of the
police department of Paris was right in front of her. To be very careful became
her first priority. She could hear footsteps approaching her, and also the
ringing of a little bell. At lightning speed, she hid in a house entry and
waited with bated breath for the steps to disappear.

         It was an old night
watchman, who was ringing the bell and announcing the time. He calmly trotted
along, without seeing her.

         She sighed in relief.
"Alright then," she whispered her warm breath visible in the cold
night air. "It's now or never."

         Dexterously she sneaked
to the back of the building, climbed over the high iron fence and landed safely
in the backyard. The huntress ducked. Keeping low, she went to the back door.
It was locked, of course, but she wouldn't let a fact like that keep her from
the things she wanted to accomplish. She noticed an open, half round cellar
window.
'That should be enough.'

         Lying down on her
stomach, she slowly slipped through it, feet first. For a moment she was
suspended motionless in midair, until she let go of the windowsill and dropped,
nearly soundlessly, to the ground. A wet-cold, moldy scent drifted up to her,
and she could hear the scratching of tiny claws on the bare, stony floor.
'Great,'
a thought formed in her mind.
'Rats! How I despise those ugly,
brown-furred rodents!'

         In the sparse light that
fell through the tiny cellar window, she made her way to the well-worn stone
stairway, which led out of the cellar. She crept up, step by step. When she
arrived at the door, she carefully pressed down the rusty handle. She was
relieved to notice that the door creaked open without a hitch, and she found herself
on the first floor of the building. The main corridor was cast in darkness.
Just as Helena was about to leave the cellar, the night porter came around the
corner, making his hourly rounds.

         Shocked by the old man's
sudden appearance, Helena ducked back, pressing against the wall.

         Slowly, with his head
down, the man, holding a four-armed candlestick, shuffled along the hallway.
Without suspicion, he passed by the burglar.

         After his steps had left
in direction of the main stairs, the huntress peered carefully from her hideout
and went back to her search. "Now I need to find out where the town
registers are," Helena mumbled to herself, grabbed a candlestick from a
nearby alcove and continued walking.

         Just then, the night
porter put down his candlestick. He pulled a small bottle from his pocket and
took a large sip. The huntress used her chance as his back was facing her.
Rushing by silently, she lit her own candlestick, unnoticed. She disappeared
into the next corridor to search for the archives.

         Even though she knew it
was the only way to get the information she needed, she didn't like the
sneaking around and her conscience stirred.
'I feel like I'm betraying the
trust of Monsieur Dutroit. But, if it isn't in his power to let me have
insight, I have to gain it like that. Preventing the vampire from doing other
horrible deeds is of great importance.'

         For awhile Helena
wandered through the winding, big building, until she came upon a door with a
brass sign, stating in bold and flourish letters
ARCHIVE
.

         "Maybe my luck will
hold," the huntress whispered, reaching for the shiny door handle. To
Helena's astonishment the door opened right away as well. Indignantly, she
remarked, "Not locked! This really is a great negligence of the police. A break-in
could happen any time..." Shaking her blonde locks, she closed the door
behind her and found herself in a room, which was so wide and high that the
light of her candle wasn't enough to illuminate it completely. She only saw
part of the endless rows of shelves and drawers. The room seemed to consist
only of that. "This is just great," escaped Helena's mouth.