And this simple acceptance calmed his fear, made him feel an inner peace. His death would be futile, but he would leave with the love and affection of those who were dear to him in his heart.
"That's better," the vampire growled.
***
Silvo closed his eyes. Not out of fear, but he would not go with this image of nightmare, that was this disgusting vampire, written in his retinas at the time of his death.
He waited for the impact, whatever might be its form. He was in such mind state that he called the death of his wishes. He was exhausted.
But nothing happened.
Cautiously, he half-opened his eyes. Two others had appeared silently. The three vampires faced each other, silent. Nothing transpired on their faces but Silvo had no doubt they were in great telepathic conversation.
Silvo did not move, preferring being forgotten, time to gather his strengths, seeking a way to get out of this trap in which he had foolishly thrown himself headlong. The only accesses were the gate and the door he had walked out upon his arrival. He could reach neither one nor the other without walking past the trio. So he chose to await the outcome of their council, hoping a favorable outcome. His state of mind had changed. The hope had rendered his combativeness. He was himself again.
The other two vampires had nothing in common with the first. If their thinness was obvious, it was not shocking. They were dressed in comfortable clothes, jeans and shirt, and took clearly more care of their physical appearance, which could make them look like human beings. But Silvo remained wary. The packaging did not count. They could be even worse than their acolyte. Silvo met too many angelic face murders to be swayed by what he saw.
They remained frozen in their face to face and Silvo was getting impatient. He wanted to be forgotten, but at the same time did not like to feel that his fate was decided without hearing any voices raised.
Finally the walking corpse moved. Time of an eye blink, he was gone. They fiddled again my mind. Silvo thought. He did not like Delatour but compared to his congeners, this vampire was a piece of cake.
"You do not like him, yet you are here to save him," said one of the vampires that now faced him.
It was not a question. More a statement.
"You have been human beings at one time or another. You should know that things are never so simple. Besides, there is more at stake than the life of Delatour. And I would appreciate that you refrain from walking around in my head. I came in a spirit of collaboration."
"We know it. But it is not, how to say that, in our nature."
Before Silvo could answer and make his case, the second with a heavy Hispanic accent asked him, "Can I see the copy of the manuscript?"
Silvo reached into his muddy briefcase and took out the copy he had the presence of mind to protect in a plastic sleeve.
The two vampires took the document and remade two steps back to keep some distance between them and Silvo, which suited him perfectly.
"I have a decoded translation."
"It will not be necessary. Thank you."
Reading the original document did not take them more time than Silvo needed to read the translation made by the analyst. It was therefore likely that Delatour, despite his words, was able to understand the copy of the parchment, when he had had it under his eyes. On second thought, Silvo could not call him a liar. Delatour had only declared that he was seeing the manuscript for the first time and that it was coded. He had just failed to mention that this code was not an issue for him. Always the damned demarcation, between cooperation and lie, which he moved according to his interests.
"Delatour was abducted a few hours ago in his laboratory. An organized gang, probably of American origin."
"We know."
"His captors know, or at least, suspect his true nature."
"Indeed."
"We lost contact. I fear that Delatour underestimated them and he is probably in bad shape."
"It is to be feared."
"Shit! You are all like that? Answering the minimum? Since you came into my mind uninvited, you know what I know. Now, will you help me find the murderers before the documents become public? Before they experiment God knows what on him? Before they commit other crimes?"
"This case concerns only the vampires," the one with Hispanic accent said.
"Oh! Not so fast! These murderers are human. They do not depend on your jurisdiction."
"They have tackled a vampire and threaten our community. So yes, to use your words, they fall under our jurisdiction," the first vampire confirmed.
"Listen, we work together with Delatour," Silvo announced, hoping not to put Delatour in difficulty by telling this. "Our collaboration has been successful so far. Not long ago, it allowed us to destroy a demon who wanted to wreak havoc on our world. We do not have your psychic abilities but we are not helpless either. I already know some of your secrets, and you know I did not betray you." He tapped his head with his forefinger to show he was not fooled by the fact that they continued to scan his mind. "As long as you do not threaten human beings and live in harmony, that suits me. All I ask of you is to help me. I will seek to deliver these murderers to justice, with or without your help. Since we pursue a common goal, even if our motives are different, why not help each other? I came up with an evidence file," Silvo said, pointing at the parchment copy. "Nothing obliged me to do it. Like nothing would force me to communicate to you other parts of the parchment, if my colleague in the U.S. finds track of it."
"You play a dangerous game Mr. Silvo," the Hispanic growled.
"Maybe because YOU are dangerous. It does not prevent me from trusting you. To some extent. I'm not stupid, contrary to appearances. I look only for efficiency."
The Hispanic, as Silvo had nicknamed him, showed nothing. The lips of the other vampire stretched on a smile.
"You have a personality that I would consider as…interesting."
"I do not know how I should take this. But could we move forward on what concerns me? Unlike you, time has a meaning for me."
The two vampires again resumed their silent exchange. Fortunately it did not last too long this time.
"Very well Mr. Silvo. We'll reveal to you some information that of course you will keep for you. In fact you should know that we will have no difficulty in erasing it from your memory if needed or do worse..."
Silvo understood the threat. Loud and clear.
***
"Your vision of vampirism is simplistic, based on more or less religious dogma with a dose of imagination. You are very far from reality. We are probably what is closest to what you consider to be a vampire and you have given us the name. Well. Humans have always needed to bring others into labeled boxes, inventoried, cataloged." And he showed the copy of the manuscript to enforce his statement. "It reassures you."
"You speak as if you had never been human."
"It was long ago, Mr. Silvo. I have almost lost memory of it. Please note we do not choose to become vampire. It's more a kind of mutation to use a common language."
"It applies only to black souls. It is this or go to Hell."
The vampire had a small, disenchanted laugh. "But we deviate from my comment. Our skills have always interested a number of people, good or bad if we use your value scale. I do not want to get into a theological debate with you, but the person who wrote this manuscript is the one that led with doggedness the trial of Delatour’s mother. And he was a monk. What you would call a son of God, right? And by a strange joke of fate, he became a vampire. You can't judge a book by its cover. To use your words, be wary of the package. But I digress once again."
"Wait! You mean Childeric became a vampire? Where is he? Is Delatour aware of it? Is Childeric guilty of the murders in the United States?"
"Childeric did not kill the people you are speaking of," Hispanic replied formally.
"And Delatour knows about Childeric’s fate?" Silvo insisted.
"It's not your problem!" the Hispanic growled. "He did not kidnap
Delatour."
Silvo wanted to protest, and learn more about Childeric. But suddenly he no longer knew what question he wanted to ask. The Hispanic focused on him without a word, erasing his memory of the last exchanges. When this was done, the vampire had an angry look towards his companion, who nodded in understanding.
"You were saying?" Silvo asked, confused.
"I said that some people wanted to uncover our secrets in search of a nearly immortal life, psychic powers...They have observed, studied us like animals, have conducted experiments on our own. And you know what happens when a community is marginalized."
"You are not altar boys either. You are predators. And we are your prey."
"Indeed. What comes first, the chicken or the egg?"
"We knew that we had not been able to destroy all these documents of observation. Unfortunately, new documents emerge from the past on a regular basis," the Hispanic added.
"And if people learn that you are not a myth, the experiments would start up again with renewed vigor, and modern means," Silvo answered.
"And we, too, evolved. The confrontation would be destructive for everyone. And especially for human beings. Do you not think so?"
"Let's get back to those who wanted to attack Delatour," the Hispanic interrupted, clearly more pragmatic.
Or was he fearing that too many things would be revealed? Silvo wondered.
"Yes, you are right. It is essential for us to get hold of this manuscript. The full original version, of course," the first vampire said.
"And you sent Delatour to investigate, and take possession of any written record of his past."
The vampire nodded. "Those pages were about him. It was therefore logical that he assume responsibility for this mission."
"But...Because there is a but. Of course."
"Indeed. Since his kidnapping in the laboratory, we can no longer succeed in communicating telepathically with him."
"What could block communication?"
The vampire hesitated to answer.
"This is an important point," Silvo got impatient.
"Some metals block brain waves."
"Like what for example?"
"Several in fact."
"I see. You will not tell me more. I will have to find out myself. Anything else may stop communication? Is it comparable to the lack of signals when phone has no coverage?"
"This is a pretty good image even if the waves are different."
"Anything else that could help me to find him?"
The vampire seemed to hesitate. Another silent dialogue, Silvo thought irritably.
"We have nothing else to teach you."
"With all due respect. You haven't told me that much. Every detail can be crucial."
"We already said much more than we were allowed to," the Hispanic objected. "You should be thankful to have our cooperation."
Silvo said nothing. The vampires knew anyway perfectly what he thought without having to express it.
"We will escort you to your car. For your own safety, it is preferable that you no longer use this passage to the catacombs without warning us about it before."
"Do not worry. I understood the lesson. How will I contact you if I have anything new?"
"It is us who will contact you."
Silvo would have bet it.
CHAPTER - 18 -
The two vampires parted. One took charge of Silvo, while the other went to the fireplace. He activated a lever, and slipped through a hidden door. He climbed a few steps worn by time, and arrived in a meeting room with decoration unquestionably of this century. The contrast with the room of the basement was striking. Facing a giant screen, tables, arranged in a U-shape could accommodate fifty people. The walls of gray paint contained no decoration. The only distraction could come only from the windows overlooking the street.
Charles looked at the bustling shopping avenue, without really seeing it, in the cotton silence of the meeting room. He was alone, seemed lost in thought. Only his hands moved, betraying his nervousness. He knocked at a regular interval one of his palms with his fist, as if preparing to fight in a boxing ring.
He did not turn when Diego came into the room and silently came to join him. Telepathically, Charles had followed the discussions with Silvo and given instructions to his second.
Fortunately he was still present at the arrival of this human being, and Diego had come at the same moment to make his report. In mere minutes, Charles would have known nothing of the visit of Silvo and would not have been able to control the information given to him!
What was wrong with this French who revealed that Childeric had become a vampire? It was none of his business! A moron! That's what he was and probably already in his lifetime! And for what? To make figures of rhetoric! He had no right to make use of his secrets!
Damn it! He should have considered this possibility. He could have only mentioned that he was accompanied! But he did not anticipate such treachery! Especially, after having asked a total discretion to the council. He only mentioned that he wanted the secret within the vampire community. But he could not foresee that the French were collaborating with human beings! Really, everything was going wrong lately. He had to regain control of events.
The survey he conducted on the thief's case was closed. Justice was done. But someone beat him to it, and made the cleaning behind him. The receiver and the intermediary, as the buyer were dead. The file was lost. In other circumstances, it would have been curious to meet this future black soul who left a bloody trail behind him. No doubt that he would win a good place in Charles’ files. If he managed to stay on Earth, of course.
But being murderer did not provide automatically great psychic strength. Charles had learnt it very early. Without his support, Childeric would surely have gone directly into limbo.
After his organic death, it took two long years to Charles to finalize and carry out his revenge on the monk. He had followed him step by step, had watched with sickness his inquisitorial proceedings. Charles wanted to know everything of his enemy before striking. His certainties - and the monk did not miss it - his beliefs, his weaknesses, his motivations.
During the same period Charles had learned to control his powers of ghost. The hardest part was not to kill the monk immediately. Childeric had tortured, killed in the name of his ideas, his own ruin had to follow the same path.
Charles had no doubt that Childeric would release a black soul at his physical death. If after all the misdeeds of which he was guilty, he was turned into a ghost, it would have meant that something was wrong and not only in this low world!
But the monk should not be sucked in by limbo. He had first to suffer in his convictions and by his convictions. He had to become a vampire. He had to become what he had always believed to fight, when he was actually attacking innocents. He had to see rising the souls of those he took for the fiends, before joining his true Master in Hell.
Charles had been patient. He wanted to leave no chance to the monk. When he had felt ready, he had followed step by step the plan he had prepared for his attention.
Charles appeared to him while the monk was alone on the way back of one of his "missions". Charles had taken care to place himself near a Christian cross, at a crossroads. The symbolism was both in the symbol of Christianity, and in the idea of choice, of rebirth.
Charles wore albs of an immaculate whiteness, borrowed in the cabinets of a prelate. The monk could not see the ghost, but he saw the garment, and Charles took care to appear as the sun was lying down, its last beams adorning the dawn of an unreal light and dazzling the monk. The fact that Charles’ body was not visible was not a problem. He was supposed to be an angel. He did not have to utter a word. The monk felt on his knees in front of this vision. He clutched his wooden cross, and prayed feverishly. When he made the sign of the cross with his right hand, while the left was still clutching the crucifix, Charles shouted to him.
"Brother Childeric! Do you know who I am?"
"You are an
angel!" the monk replied.
He prostrated himself even more lower, and lay in the dust at the foot of the cross while Charles levitated in front of him.
"I have followed you for many years."
"Really!" the monk had answered, surprised and flattered. "I have only done my duty as a Christian. For the greatest glory of our Lord!"
"I know. But you can do much more."
"I am your devoted servant."
"You can fight the black souls who live among human beings."
"This is what I try to do by my humble ministry. The task is difficult. All are lost, all are perverted. The church did little to help me in my priesthood."
"Stop whining! You can do better!"
The monk bowed his head again. He would probably have sunk underground if he could, thought Charles.
"Are you ready to give up everything? To devote yourself only to your mission? To fight to the ends of the earth?"
"I made an oath of fidelity, to give my life to God. I do not shrink from it. I am your humble servant."
Charles remained deliberately silent for several minutes, as if pondering the depth of the monk’s faith. Childeric wriggled uncomfortable, not knowing how to interpret this silence.
"I can give you the same weapons as those you'll have to fight."
"I am unworthy of such honor."
"But you'll have to make a sacrifice."
"Order! And I will obey."
"You'll have to become a free soul."
"Blessed and holy are those who have part in the first resurrection. The second death has no power over them, but they will be priests of God and of Christ and will reign with him for a thousand years," Childeric replied, quoting the Bible.
Charles said nothing. The instant was crucial. For him, and for Childeric. Despite all the hatred that he felt towards the monk, he had a second's hesitation.
"How? How can I refer other witches, still more fiends, to the underworld?" Childeric asked. "How can I destroy them, they and their descendants?"
This question revived the wrath of Charles. He did not hesitate any longer. "I'll help you. I will stay with you. I'll be your guide, your initiator."
The Parchment (The Memory of Blood) Page 15
