The monk stood up. He tore his robe revealing his frail chest. "I'm ready. For the glory of our Lord!"
Charles attracted to him the spear he had kept near the cross and threw it with all his psychic strengths on the body of the monk.
That day he killed Childeric. That day his white soul became black. But he had no regrets.
He had hidden a fresh corpse behind a bush, knowing that he would need a mortal coil in good shape to avoid being sucked into limbo without losing his energy, which he would need to keep Childeric on Earth.
While the monk breathed his last sigh, Charles felt the attraction. He descended into the mortal coil he had procured and took control of it. He did not feel at ease, but had enough energy to maintain himself. He saw the black soul of Childeric being sucked. He had to prevent him from leaving Earth at all costs!
He exhorted the monk to resist, to return to his body with which he was no longer connected.
"You are weak, Brother! You must resist the attraction that tries to lead you to Hell. Resist!"
And he encouraged him, quoting passages of the Bible. There was no better motivation for the monk. Childeric had no great mental strength, but his fanaticism helped him.
When he began to stabilize, exhausted from his fight, Charles gave him his first blood in a cup. The blood of a chicken he had just knifed.
The monk took it without hesitation.
And so their association had been born. Childeric had become his zealous servant. Charles thought this turpitude would last a short while, but he had underestimated how much the spirit of the monk was narrow, limited, criminal. For nearly five hundred years, he served Charles, whose end he had unwittingly precipitated. Or rather the ends. As a human being and as a ghost.
He served a vampire. The fact that he and Charles fed on the blood of their victims to survive had never caused him any problems.
Charles had forgotten that Childeric was not really human during his lifetime. The monk had put on the vampire costume without any difficulty.
He had no longer led inquisition trials, but did not cease his murderous activities. At least he did it as vampire, thought Charles, and not on behalf of a God he would divert the commandments.
The monk had become the obsequious servant of those he fought, or rather, believed to fight. He had become, and by his own faults, what he despised the most. And Charles had to endure the presence of the monk. Their fates were intertwined, inseparable.
One day Charles would send him to Hell, when he would consider over the period of Childeric purgatory. No, it was not the real reason, Charles thought with a bitter laugh. It was not that Childeric purgator, it was also his. Someone other than him should so decide. The time had perhaps come. Charles hoped, so much as he feared, that prospect.
But it was his secret. A dark secret, which belonged to his story. And others could now access this information. He could not tolerate it! Not having found his rivals in the United States, he had only one solution left. Wait for them near their logical next step: Delatour.
Charles did not feel ready to face Delatour. He was not afraid of the vampire, but felt that this meeting would change forever his future "life".
But it was only an impression, he could be misleading. Charles was annoyed, it was not in his habit to procrastinate on what he would undertake.
He had to learn more about Delatour. Knowledge was power as he repeated it. He had not expected the vampire to be abducted, and not so fast. But it was only a postponement. Charles had to put that time to good use.
Delatour was likely to escape the clutches of his captors. He did not deserve to be a vampire if humans were able to circumvent him. And he would have to give him back his precious parchment. Delatour would have no choice but to do it. Charles had obtained the commitment of the French council of vampires. The situation was not without certain piquancy! That's what happened when you gave allegiance, you lost all free will!
Diego patiently waited without a word. At a sign from Charles, he telepathically conveyed what he had discovered in the spirit of Silvo.
Charles smiled. Once again he was right. He rubbed his hands with anticipation.
"Come! We have little time and a lot to prepare."
They left the HQ of French vampires.
CHAPTER - 19 -
Silvo found himself sitting on the sidewalk, resting against the front wheel of his car, his back in the slush. They had played with his brain. It became a habit. The street was not very busy, and it was late, nearly eight pm by his watch. It had been easy for the vampires to carry him discreetly.
He took off his blue overalls and muddy boots and threw them with his bag in the trunk of his car. He was angry. The vampires did not tell him anything. He had wasted his time, risked his life for nothing. They and their condescending attitudes! For whom did they consider themselves? Who lived in hiding like rats? In addition to this, they tinkered with his mind with total impunity!
He was tired, hungry and needed a good shower. The mud began to itch. He had promised Mystie to keep her informed of his progress. He was going home to shower and would invite her for dinner. He really needed to see friendly faces.
He settled behind the wheel. His cell phone rang to indicate that he had three new messages. Clearly, they were sent while he was wading in the Parisian underground. He turned on the ignition to warm the car's cabin.
The first call came from the leader of team. Obviously he was running when he had made the call.
"Boss! We lost Mystie Larousse. I am afraid she has been abducted near Le Louvre. At a traffic light, a man wearing a blue jogging suit and hood extracted her from her car, and pushed her into a black van parked in parallel. Our man wanted to follow them, but when he reached the Place de la Concorde, there were three identical vans that went in different directions. He took a chance and followed one of them at random. They moved towards Neuilly. We raised the alert and we go on the spot with the copter. I'll keep you informed."
Silvo typed quickly on his phone to hear the next message.
"The driver of Neuilly got away. It was not the right car. We have found a second car near the Conciergerie. Finally we found an abandoned van near the Eiffel Tower. Your friend’s phone was in the back seat. The cars are in the hands of scientists for fingerprints. All cars are from a rental agency Roissy airport. I am on the way to question the employees at the agency. Call me when you can."
The last message was again from his assistant.
"Boss, I got the record of the rental agency. They were told it was for a wedding. Settlement in cash, United States license. I did pass the ID in the name of Duval, to the immigration and border posts. But it's probably a fake. The girl of the agency could not describe what the customer looked like. They are used to seeing foreigners and she did not particularly care. It seems there was a crowd today. I've taken some video surveillance tapes, and she views them in case of. For now that gives us nothing. I await you at the office."
Silvo started off his siren, and returned to his office in record speed, despite the intensified traffic on the boulevards.
This kidnapping would not have been planned at first. This meant that the killers got nothing from Delatour, and they wanted to use Mystie to put pressure on him. This was both good and bad news. They were still on French territory. Probably close to Paris. If they started to improvise, they would make mistakes. But now Mystie also was in danger. They had to be found and quickly.
While driving, he called his subordinate to find out the current situation. But he learned nothing more, unfortunately. The situation had not changed since his last call.
He opened the doors of the building that housed his office when he suddenly heard Casper shouting in his head.
"Damn it! Where were you? I’ve been looking for you for hours. They abducted Mystie."
"Casper! Calm down! Stop yelling in my head, it will not help!"
He uttered these words aloud and the few people that crossed his path looked bewildered.
Becoming aware, Silvo grumbled something unintelligible and took refuge in his office.
Finally alone, he sat in his seat, while communicating by thought with the ghost.
"Did you learn something I did not know already?"
"Nothing very much indeed. I screwed up. I should have stayed with Mystie."
"Listen, Casper. We all messed up. So stop with this! Try to be constructive."
"They will want to use Mystie to bend Delatour."
"I know. But they think Mystie is a simple human being. It could work in our favor. They do not know her special gifts."
"Her dagger remained in her car."
"I was thinking about her other skills. If you were her, what would you do?"
"I do not know me. I would try to escape."
"Suppose you can't."
"I would try to get in touch, one way or another."
"She does not have her phone. So how would you do?"
"By telepathy or making a small astral trip out of my body."
"And what persons can receive this type of call?"
"Me or her grandmother or Delatour."
"Delatour is disqualified. You, she does not know where to reach you. Clothilde is almost always either in her shop or in her apartment, which overlooks it."
"Well, then why aren’t we there yet? I rush forward, and you will rejoin us."
"OK. Let me call Clothilde to see if she has already had contact, then I will go see my team in case there is news, then I'll join you. In case of emergency you know where to find me."
"Where were you anyway?"
"It's a long story. Go now!"
Silvo dialed Clothilde’s number. She knew nothing of Mystie’s abduction and he felt her anguish. Silvo reassured her as best he could, but he hated himself for having announced the news to her this way. He assured her he was coming very quickly and that Casper should already be in the shop. She confirmed that to him. Silvo knew that Casper would do anything to reassure her. He could count on him. He was often the clown but he had a heart of gold. And even his concern for the vampire was not feigned.
He went to the office of his team leader. He only got confirmation of what he was told by phone. The situation had not changed since, but research was still in progress.
"Watch for small airports. They might want to leave the country by private plane. Check flight plans for the U.S. in particular. If I were them, I would try to flee. The situation is not evolving as they had probably expected, otherwise they would not have abducted Mystie."
Before joining Clothilde, he read his emails, but found no message that could help him make progress. He sent a brief email to Porkelevitch to ask him if he had found track of another parchment or if the investigation on the murders had progressed. He doubted it. The case took henceforth place in France, but it was worth asking the question.
He had delayed his departure enough. He was going to have to face Mystie’s grandmother. He felt so guilty for not having been able to protect her. How could have the situation have degenerated so quickly? Twenty-four hours earlier, he had gathered all of them. And now two people, and the most powerful, were missing, disappeared under their noses, just like that!
***
When he entered the shop, he found no one. He went into the back room where Clothilde prepared her potions. She was there, obviously deep in discussion with Casper, who he could not hear. Seeing him, she rushed into his arms.
"We will find her. I promise."
They both knew that this was not a promise that he was certain to hold, but it reassured her to hear it.
"You better. Casper wants to talk to you."
"Come Casper."
"Go, Clo. Tell him your idea."
"I made a Summoning potion for Delatour but it did not work. I will try Mystie."
"You think it can be effective?"
"Honestly, no. But it's better than sitting here waiting."
"Can I help you?"
"No. But you can stay. Your presence makes me feel good."
"I will take a shower and then I will come back."
"That's true, that the style of mud statue does not suit you," she replied with a sad smile. "And you smell of death."
Silvo quickly went to shower in the apartment above the store and then returned to join Clothilde. He sat in a corner, so as not to disturb her.
The back room was comfortable and conducive to thought. All around the room, walls were covered with libraries that hosted old books with worn pages for having been too often consulted. In front of Clothilde, placed on the work surface, lay a considerable number of vials and jars of varying colors, with labels written in a schoolgirl writing that had faded by time. Silvo knew that this heritage was passed down from generation to generation by the women of the family. If the labels were completed in this childish handwriting, it was because their editors were not always able to write very well. But it did not seem to bother Clothilde.
The room was still lit by candles. It was true that electricity would have no place in this setting. The flickering flames returned on the walls, casting shadows that moved and danced. In one corner, a battered old sofa hosted Mephisto, Mystie’s bulky one-eyed cat. It was at this place that the young woman rested when she made an astral journey, leaving her body under the supervision of her grandmother.
He hoped that Mystie could do make one of these trips that night and thus help find her. But to leave her body, the young woman had to be perfectly relaxed. He was not sure that she would reach this state of relaxation under the current circumstances, nor that she would take the risk of leaving her body unattended. He had to make progress on his side.
He went over the movie of the day, to make sure he wasn’t missing an important detail.
He remembered especially his interview with the vampires. These guys spoke with few words, and everything had to be interpreted. He did not like these discussions to the second, or third degree. Mystie was much stronger than him in this game. He would have sought advice from Clothilde, but she would have had to be present during the exchange. He had difficulty remembering all the nuances of language that vampires had used. And for such decryption every word, attitude mattered. He would have to find her by himself. At least for a while.
"Casper! An idea of what could block Delatour’s telepathy? He has not communicated with his congeners."
"I do not know. Alu maybe."
"Do you mean aluminum?"
"Yes. If you packed a cell phone in aluminum paper, it would not receive calls. Perhaps it works the same. I did that with the cell of my friend when we were in music rehearsal. It annoyed me to hear a phone ring all the time."
"And it would not have been easier to turn them off?" Clothilde asked.
"Yes, but less fun. You should have seen their faces! The phone looked like calculators. Anyway, unless they have turned Delatour into a robot, I do not think it would have worked. But it gives me an idea perhaps. I'll be right back. Do not move!"
Silvo approached Clothilde, always busy reducing plants in a crucible. He hugged her to reassure her.
"Do not worry. Mystie has already fought vampires, ghosts and a demon. Human beings will not stop her."
"I know. But as strange as it may appear, I am much more worried. She has great psychic strengths. But that does not make her bulletproof. I'm not sure she is ready for this fight."
"They have no reason to go after her. This is just bullying."
"I hope so. With all my heart."
"She is not alone. Delatour is with her. He could not survive - if I may say so - more than five hundred years without knowing how to defend himself. Even if he is a prisoner, you can be sure he will protect her, and he will heal her wounds, if necessary."
"Yes. I know I can count on Philippe. On all of you. But the worst is to know nothing. Change the subject. What did you learn on the parchment?"
He summarized the translation.
"You know, I probably should not say this, but I understand what he did.
I share the memory of children of my lineage, who witnessed their mother condemned to atrocities similar to those of the mother of Delatour. In addition, children had to attend the trial of their parents, their mother, I should say. It's a pain for which there is no cure, even if one learns to live with. You feel guilty for being human."
"Survivor's guilt?"
"No, it is deeper. They refused to be of the same nature as those who carried out torture. They refused to share the same...humanity. Although the word is really not the right one to use. It is then easy to switch to what appears to be bestiality. "
"Or we say that we are human and the others are animals."
"Yes. But he was a very young man. Probably with already too many responsibilities. He has not forgiven himself for failing to protect women of his family. Especially women."
"I understand."
He squeezed her more tightly in his arms. He also felt the need to protect her from these horrors which filled her memory, and that came from a distant past.
"My God, Mystie. She had to be destroyed by all this."
"Hush! Calm down. We'll find her. It will motivate her only more. They will find in the other the strength they need. Even armed to the teeth, humans cannot overcome those two. Rather it is the Americans who have to worry. They brought wolves into their sheepfold. They do not know have a clue of what they are in for."
Silvo rocked her gently. He wanted to reassure her. To speak frankly, he did not know what to think. Clothilde was right about one thing. Technology could be far more dangerous than the spirit strength in the death process. History had proven it too often. But he was careful not to say aloud what he thought.
CHAPTER - 20 -
Casper left the shop and looked around. He had contacted a few ghosts hoping they could help him in his investigations. But those he knew were not detectives. If they found something, they would inform him, but Casper doubted that they would do real research. Anyway, the chances of success were slim, finding a human and a vampire among the millions of Paris inhabitants was like finding a needle in a haystack.
The Parchment (The Memory of Blood) Page 16
