After the massacre he perpetrated five hundred years earlier, he had promised not to resort to anymore violence, for fear of losing control again.
He did not regret what he had done. These cowards had deserved their fate. Ignorance did not excuse everything. Nobody had raised a voice to testify in favor of the one who, nevertheless, all those years, had brought them support. They had dragged her in the most despicable mud, had tortured her. Would he have to do it all again, he would do. Without the slightest hesitation.
But what he regretted was the way he did it. If he still had nightmares, it was because he had not saved his mother, his sister, who could count only on him. They were under his protection since the untimely death of his father. He should have been there. He should have protected them. While he was serving his country at the peril of his life, his homeland took from him what he held most dear. He had arrived too late for his mother, but could have saved his sister. He could have put her away before quenching his vengeance and seeking justice. He would have become a black soul anyway but he would have been able to watch over the offspring of his sister. At least all that would have had a little meaning.
He had believed his injuries healed, but the reading of this manuscript had driven everything to the surface of his consciousness. He wanted to have the original in hand, to destroy it. Nothing of what had dragged his family through the mud was to remain. It was not a testimony of past, but an abomination. He did not care that his actions were so related, although he was curious to know who were the authors. What beings, human or not, had so watched him from generation to generation? But he could not bear that the memory of his mother, his sister were so made dirty.
He had been given the task to take back the parchment. And he would have done it with or without instruction. He did not tolerate that someone might have access to this information. They belonged to him, and him alone. Too many people already knew about it.
What would Mystie, Clothilde, Silvo think of him by learning his past? They could not understand. Nobody could. But since when was he worried of what people might think of him? Undoubtedly, he was no longer himself.
He had wanted to act in his own way, alone. The mission should be long over. He just had to allow himself to be kidnapped, "convince" his captors to give him the manuscript, remove their memory then deliver them to Silvo, who would do whatever he wanted with them.
But he did not anticipate that their leader would not attend, and especially not the deployment of technologies and their effects on him. Casper's intervention could have enabled him to return to his original plan. The case would have been quickly settled. He had become too old, he had underestimated his enemies, and overestimated a ghost.
Now, he had no choice but to break his promise or to be dependent on a stupid ghost. Even a black soul like him did not deserve this!
The man who hit Delatour whispered in the ear to his chief. "We are ready."
"What will you do to me?" Delatour asked.
"You will accompany us. Be our safe passage to leave the country. Wherever we go, we will have the necessary equipment to study you. I'm sure you have a peculiarity and we will find out what it is."
"And when you find that there is nothing to discover?"
"Then you will die for science. I'm sure it's a concept you know."
"Dracula! Wow, it is yucky in there!" exclaimed Casper, reappearing. "The manuscript is in his boot and they are not the ones who kidnapped Mystie!"
"What?"
"Oops! Uh, I'll tell Silvo."
"What did you say?" Delatour roared while Casper disappeared.
"Calm yourself, my dear. You've heard perfectly," Kopf said.
Casper crossed the house at top speed and rushed into Silvo’s head, asking him to intervene.
"Hurry! I goofed. Dracul knows about Mystie."
Silvo lit his flashlight. This was the signal. Special Forces besieged the house.
CHAPTER - 22 -
As soon as they saw the signal, Silvo’s men destroyed the shutters and threw teargas grenades into the house. The noise of gunfire filled the air, leaving no room for any other sound. The squad approached the house, protected behind shields. The firefight was fierce, but safe for those who were in the building, protected by its walls.
The lights of the houses around were lit one after the other. The curious began to press against their windows, awakened by the fire of automatic weapons. It was necessary to finish quickly, before innocents came out and found themselves in the line of fire.
The squad was now along the building, securing accesses that could be used to escape. They heard some coughing, but no one came out.
"Casper, destroy the jammer! We will enter! I wouldn’t be surprised if they have oxygen masks in all their kits."
"I’ll get right on it!"
Silvo’s men smashed the front door and entered the house cautiously.
There were further exchanges of intimidating gunfire, but no targets in sight. Then a violent explosion made part of the floor collapse on the entrance corridor.
"Covered! The house is booby trapped!" Silvo yelled.
Silvo men streamed back outside. Fortunately, nobody was seriously injured. The collapse had occurred before they went sufficiently in the entrance hall.
Silvo heard his radio crackling on his shoulder. The communications were again operational.
"Secure the outside. You see something?"
"Negative."
"Find the gas supply and close it!"
Smoke invaded the rooms mixed with concrete dust and plaster. The walls of the entrance cracked, threatening to collapse. Tiles came crashing down, mixing with debris.
They had to move forward. The kidnappers had probably prepared a retreat by the basement.
The entrance was littered with debris of all kinds and they had to squeeze between the piles of bricks and pieces of wood from the frame. They discovered the body of a man in a suit, who could not protect himself from the avalanche of materials. With relief, Silvo found that it was not one of his men. The team was deployed, and a group went upstairs.
In the living room, the lab assistant lifted his hands up to surrender, between fits of coughing. He suffered only minor injuries. Tears probably due to teargas were digging furrows in his face covered with concrete dust. Silvo escorted him to the garden.
"Report?" the team leader asked on the radio.
"Level zero secured."
"Floor secured."
Squad members were escorting from upstairs a handcuffed kidnapper wearing a leather jacket. It was probably him who had blown up the load. The man cast a resentful glance at Silvo as he passed in front of him. The squad chief pushed him unceremoniously out.
Only the basement remained. Silvo had not wanted to drive the assault from the outside to the garage, giving them the illusion of exit. He wanted them alive. His team leader was not in agreement with this strategy, which he considered too dangerous. Accessing the basement from the inside reduced their opportunities for protection and leeway. But Silvo counted on Delatour’s help. He would not wait quietly for their arrival. When the scrambler was disabled, the vampire would have no trouble tying his captors. They had to take control of the floor. The basement could wait.
Accompanied by three men, he descended the steps leading to the laundry room, gun in hand. The staircase was strangely silent. Not a voice. He walked slowly, alert, not wanting to announce his arrival. The steps were crowded with rubble. They were too easy a target for his taste. A sniper, a grenade thrown, and everything would have been finished. His team leader was not wrong. He hoped that Delatour would not let him down.
But no one appeared. He reached the last step, motioned to one of his men to cover him and jump to enter the room, ready to fire.
He saw a vision of horror but made no comment.
He lowered his gun, put the safety back on and put it in his holster with slow and measured movements. He connected his radio to be heard by all his men. And it was wit
h a calm and controlled voice he addressed them.
"The operation is over!"
Silvo had not taken his eyes off the vampire who stood in the center of the room. Fresh blood splattered his shirt and dripped from his mouth in a disgusting way. On the chair he had previously occupied, stood the leader of this murderous team. Silvo recognized him by his clothes. He did not need to approach him to know he had had a broken neck. At his feet a large man had had his throat cut and was lying in a pool of blood, a knife still stuck in the neck, or what was left of it. Fresh garnet-red projections covered the walls, leaving no doubt about their nature.
Delatour said nothing. Silvo wondered what state of mind the vampire was in. He had packed his weapon as a sign of appeasement, but knew that his team leader was on the stairs, ready to intervene.
Finally, he relaxed when Delatour spoke in a confident voice. "Glad to see you. Where is Mystie?"
"I will explain it to you. The parchment?"
"It is no longer a problem. Survivors?"
"Two men under arrest. One of them is the lab assistant."
"I had to erase some of their souvenirs."
"Then we will have no proof."
"It is necessary Silvo. We cannot take any chances. And we must ensure they do not have records on their computers and that they have not sent information elsewhere."
"And that? It was necessary?" Silvo asked, motioning to the two corpses.
The vampire shrugged as if it was not of the slightest importance. "They wanted immortality. I have given it to them."
Delatour and Silvo went out by the garage, while the men began to collect computer equipment in the laundry. The house might collapse at any time, so they acted quickly.
In the garden, the two prisoners kept a closed face, one at each end of the fence.
"I accompanied one behind the house. I will begin with the lab assistant. It will not be long," the vampire announced.
"Delatour," Silvo started.
"Trust me. You will not regret it."
And without waiting for an answer, Delatour grabbed and drew the lab assistant after him.
"What do you want? Let me go!"
Delatour neglected to respond, dragged him behind the house and flung him on the floor, against the wall of the shed. The lab assistant, with difficulty, dragged himself into a corner. Handcuffs impeded his movements. His eyes were frantic. He desperately sought a way out, the men of the squad, someone to help. This guy was going to kill him. He read it in his eyes. He raised his arms crossed in hopes of protecting himself from attack, begged Delatour to leave him alone.
"Please. I was just following orders. Everything is Kopf’s fault. I will say nothing. I promise you."
"Shut up!"
The lab assistant was trembling, continuing to mutter prayers. Tired of hearing him, Delatour sent him a right jab to the jaw, which knocked out the young man.
Then he sat down near him, took a deep breath and left his body. He hated the idea of leaving his mortal coil without supervision, but he had no choice. He would have to be quick, that was all.
He penetrated the young man's mind. The advantage at this age was that the memories were still few and those he sought were recent.
It took a few seconds to adjust to the brain waves of the young man, to follow his rhythm. It was like putting Delatour’s footsteps in his, or rather becoming his shadow. All vampires did not have this ability. It is true that most mocked to transform or not human beings into vegetables. Only the body they wanted. What was inside was only a cumbersome tenant.
He forced the vibrations of his mind to become one with that of the lab assistant. It was like tuning up a musical instrument, except that it was not to reach the pure sound, but the cacophony of the young man. He entered his memories. He did not linger on what would come up to the edge of consciousness, seeking his target, his kidnapping and its motivations. He wanted to provoke a lacunar amnesia, memory loss of a specified period. It was like looking on a hard disk where information was stored. He called them in thought and had only to follow the electrical signals through the forest of neurons of the lab assistant. When he found them, he ordered the brainstem to stop the blood supply of synapses that he selected. The memory was still there, but inaccessible. It was possible that the young man's brain could create an alternative route, but unlikely. And his soul was so much interwoven with his brain that it did not differentiate from it. The soul let the brain handle this biological mass, without intervening.
Convincing the young man he had participated in a kidnapping for other reasons that hunting superman was child's play. It was sufficient to give rise to this information in his mind. As when we dream quite aware of what we would do in such or such situation. Reality mixes with fantasy.
Unconscious, the lab agreed to the proposed postulate, which moreover reassured him. He was not very proud of his lack of ethics.
For good measure, Delatour added the sensations felt by the victims, pain, fear, despair. He hoped to provoke the beginning of empathy in the lab assistant. Nothing could guarantee that he would refer to this data in his future choices, but he would have it.
Delatour left the young man's body, and returned to his body and his own pace with pleasure.
He shook the lab assistant, who regained consciousness. Seeing Delatour leaning over him, he recoiled, but allowed himself up without protest.
Silvo was still wondering if doing nothing was not going against his ethics, when Delatour returned, accompanied by the lab assistant. Without a word he grabbed the second prisoner.
"Leave me! I want to call my consulate. I am a U.S. citizen. You have no rights."
He continued to yell while trying in vain to escape the grip of the vampire. No one intervened. Everyone knew that Delatour had been badly mauled, and as long as their leader would say nothing, they would not intervene.
The man was not as shy as his accomplice, but Delatour used the same method. A good well-placed punch saved time. Adapting to the rhythm of this brain was not more difficult, and the vampire did not bother to achieve perfect synchronization. He was exhausted and the men had had no hesitation in torturing him. It would not transform the kidnapper into a vegetable, but he could still lose some abilities. Too bad for him.
Finding the targeted memory was a real treasure hunt. The man was already suffering from memory losses. Many of its neurons had already died, probably the result of stress or shock. God knows where these kinds of adventurers could find themselves without concern for provoking internal damage. But Delatour was not there to make a diagnosis. Just, basically, to save the life of the guy. Because if he could not erase the memories he wanted, he would have to kill him, to leave no track of the reasons for his kidnapping.
A few minutes later, Delatour returned the prisoner who stood silent, head bowed. Neither this one nor the lab assistant protested when they were pushed up to the police vehicles.
"What did you do them? What have you exactly erased within them?"
"To be precise, I erased nothing. To put it simply, I cut off access to certain memories. Everything is intact, except for the fact that they are convinced to have abducted and held me to gain access to the results of my scientific research. It is not impossible that their memory will return, but this is unlikely and it would be very confusing. I took the opportunity to convince them to cooperate with police."
"Confessions under hypnosis have no value."
"This is not hypnosis, do not worry. I just made so that their guilt is stronger than their self-preservation instinct. And believe me it was not an easy task. I'm not even sure I succeeded."
Silvo was still not satisfied with this response and blamed himself for not having intervened. He should never have let the vampire play with their minds. Seeing this, Delatour endeavored to reassure him.
"Listen, Silvo. They are alive. They will be judged and will even have a chance to pay their debt to society. Tell yourself that you've left them a chance not to become black souls. Alth
ough I have no doubt that the list of their crimes is already long."
"I do not like it. That's it. Everyone should keep his free will. Good or bad."
"It was the best I could do. Let's talk about Mystie. You did not say anything about it, but your anxiety is obvious. So if you do not want me to fetch the answers in your mind myself, maybe you should tell me. Silvo, I respect you, but..."
"Say no more. I have already given the necessary instructions to my cleaners. Come, we will go to the store and I will tell you on the way. Casper is already in place to inform Clothilde of the situation."
But Casper had not left for Clothilde’s shop yet. He waited in the cellar where Delatour had been detained and where now the corpse of two of the kidnappers lay.
He did not have to wait long. Michaela's ghost appeared, almost shyly. She looked at the small room with a frightened glance. She froze when she saw Kopf and "Leather jacket" in a pool of blood. Casper motioned to her that all was well and she seemed to relax a little.
Clasping his hands, Casper bowed to thank her. Without her, he would never have intervened, would not have known where to go. She blew him a kiss, waved him goodbye and then arose, a gracious smile on her lips. Casper escorted her to the roof and followed her luminous wake, while she was rising in the sky like a shooting star.
CHAPTER - 23 -
Explaining to Delatour what he knew about Mystie’s kidnapping took Silvo only a few minutes. He knew so few things!
"My captor did not kidnap Mystie."
"I know. Casper told me. Probably a second team interested in the parchment. Seeing that you were passed under their noses, they probably wanted to make an exchange."
"You know as well as me that they would have already shown themselves."
The Parchment (The Memory of Blood) Page 19
