The Parchment (The Memory of Blood)

by Sylvie Brisset

  "You always justify your acts by diversion of the Gospels that I see."

  "I do not divert them, but apply them to the letter."

  "And then you eat the flesh and drink the blood of Christ every morning for breakfast."

  "No, but that of pure beings."

  "Do not tell me that you are attacking children!"

  "For the glory of our Lord! Amen"

  "You are disgusting. You're repulsive."

  "This is what your mother said when she refused to confess, limb of Satan."

  Delatour threw himself on the vampire. He grabbed him by the throat and threw him violently against the wall. Childeric collapsed on the ground, taking with him chunks of plaster from the wall that could not withstand the shock.

  "You cannot kill me."

  "Beat up!" Delatour spat in passing, going back the vampire as a caged lion.

  His eyes were loaded with a murderous glare. Casper never had seen him like this. He was unaware of what strength his opponent had, but in his place would have been afraid. Very afraid.

  But Childeric was either unconscious, or more powerful than his appearance would make it believe. He sat up, faced Delatour.

  "My Master promised me that when the time comes, it's me who'll take care of you. And this time, you will go straight to hell. You will join Satan's servant who begot you. And the Lord will reward me for having brought to a successful conclusion my mission."

  Delatour did not answer and propelled Childeric with a mental push. This time, he struck a heavily loaded shelf that under the impact toppled and fell on him.

  While Childeric was getting rid of the tools in which he was entangled, Delatour stared at the corner of the wall where Casper was.

  "Come!" It was his only word.

  Casper hesitated. Then came in the spirit of Delatour. The ghost clearly felt that Delatour left him a very small space and closed virtual doors around him. Friendly but careful Casper thought. Just to talk confidentially but I have no right to go farther.

  "How did you spot me? I was not in spectral shape."

  "Fluctuations in the air. If this fool had a little more attention he would have spotted you too. Why don’t you go in search of Mystie while I take care of him?"

  "There is an unbridgeable magical barrier. What should I do?"

  "Contact Clothilde. See if she can advise you. Tell especially Silvo not to intervene."

  "That he will not enjoy!"

  "We know nothing about what's behind that door. Neither strength nor power of our enemies. And we are below a clinic full of innocent people, so I think he will understand."

  "Uh! Dracul?"

  "What?"

  "I think we have a problem. Look at your buddy. He sees himself as Wolverine in X-Men."

  Childeric had emerged from under the shelf, and his wounds healed before their eyes. Wounds stopped bleeding, and closed. Seconds later, no more mark was visible.

  "I told you. You can do nothing against me! You will exhaust yourself long before I feel the least bit tired. My Master has given me the power I need."

  "Casper, go! Now!"

  Taking advantage that his opponent was in talkative mood, Delatour decided to change strategy. Childeric deserved a thousand deaths but he was just a lackey.

  How could he heal so fast? Even with his training Delatour could not. Who could have taught him such control of his body? It was unthinkable! Even the best training did not work miracles. The body could receive priority instructions but it needed time to implement them. Blood vampires more than anyone needed new blood to heal. Unless he had many stem cells? This would explain the age of his prey! he thought, sickened.

  Of what perversions could the being whom he called his master be capable? Only a demon could accept such a vile and obsequious servant, and being manipulative enough to let Childeric in his madness while keeping it under control.

  A demon who had promised Delatour’s soul as reward to this loony. But what had he ever done to draw attention of a demon? Demons hated vampires, black souls too close to humans for their taste. But this explanation was not sufficient. It all seemed very personal, and much too complicated to trap a simple vampire like him. Delatour was relatively old, had a certain hierarchical position, but nothing to attract enough attention. He had been careful enough to always stay in the shadows. So what? Why this mess? He could not compete with a demon. Only Mystie could. Was that the reason for her disappearance?

  "And where is this Master about whom you speak so much?"

  "Oh, you will meet him. Besides, I hear him coming."

  Childeric began to kneel, head bowed in an attitude of pure submission. As Delatour did not move, he added, "On your knees, miscreant!"

  CHAPTER - 26 -

  Delatour listened to the sound of approaching footsteps, wondering what being would appear. He was almost surprised to see a human mortal coil. In fact, he did not know what to expect. Anyway, appearances were always misleading. Demons could take many appearances, even hide their vile soul behind that of a man, unconscious of being guided from within.

  The newcomer was a vampire, at least at first, but impossible to know whether it was his only nature. A blood vampire quite as his servant.

  Childeric kissed the signet ring of the newcomer when this one held out the hand to him.

  "You served me well. Leave us now."

  Childeric withdrew with a last bow and disappeared into the hallway leading to the floors.

  The Master remained silent. His gaze seemed to scrutinize every bit of Delatour’s face. The latter did not move while the examination went on.

  "You are Philippe Delatour, son of Charles and Joan Tower."

  It was not a question. Delatour nodded.

  "I'm Charles. Follow me. We have to talk."

  Delatour hoped he would break down the wards and spells that imprisoned Mystie, but Charles went to another door without checking if his guest followed him.

  "Speak?" Delatour wondered. He was curious about the contents of that conversation. Assuming that's really what would happen.

  They entered what had to be a small welding workplace, considering the tools that were on a workbench. The room was not more than ten feet by ten feet and given the place that took the bench, they only had the space to sit on two metal chairs that had clearly seen better days.

  Charles took one of them and motioned to Delatour to sit in front of him. After some hesitation he complied. Neither of them spoke. Obviously, they gauged each other. Delatour noticed that Charles did not attempt to enter his mind. For now. He appreciated this self-restraint that few black souls demonstrated. This one had to be old to comply with this unwritten rule. It was also a method, among others, to hide his true nature and above all his power. Youths too often felt obliged to make demonstration, revealing their inexperience.

  Delatour could not figure his age. Several centuries, but older or younger than him? Impossible to assess with certainty.

  The silence dragged on. Delatour took care not to show any impatience. He was very strong in this game. He wondered what could go through the head of his vis-à-vis whose lips pinched into a retained smile. After another period of silence, Charles finally spoke.

  "You have my manuscript."

  It was not a question. A simple statement. Delatour winced on the possessive adjective. It was still his life that appeared in this document.

  "You had lost it?"

  "It would be fairer to say that it had been stolen. A human," he added with a disgusted grin.

  "Can I know why and how you held my biography, even partially?"

  "You have undoubtedly recognized Childeric and know that he is the author."

  "This answers only the how."

  "I like to keep track of fellows of our kind."

  "For what purpose?"

  "You become too curious, my dear."

  "The gathering of these documents could put our community in trouble. You do not ignore it."

  "You dramatize. Besides,
not everyone shares the secret policy of your French brotherhood."

  "There is an old French adage that says to live happy, live hidden. It was not a so bad choice so far."

  "Living? Happy? You have such words for a vampire!"

  Big mistake! Delatour thought. He had to play it tight. He must pay attention to the each word used and especially keep control. It was much more than a simple conversation. He felt it. Even if he did not understand either the intricacies or the real goals of it yet. Something took place in this verbal joust and his life and that of Mystie could indeed depend on it.

  "Nobody wants to see a new resurgence of witch hunt."

  "You speak of things that you do not know," Charles replied dryly.

  "Really? A few hours ago, I was a prisoner of humans, who having had access to your small compilation, intended to carry out experiments on me to get to know my true nature."

  "If some humans are able to circumvent you, it means that you are weak," Charles replied with contempt.

  "Coming from someone who was robbed by a human, I find that the remark is no without a certain piquancy," Delatour quipped, causing Charles to look at him blackly.

  Take care! Easy! Delatour said to himself. Don't tackle him head-on, but don't allow him to offend you either. Find a balance in this power struggle.

  "Moreover," Delatour added, "their advanced technology affects our spiritual powers."

  "The strength of the spirit against science. Nothing new. And you cannot compare. Without their gadgets, they are only prey, livestock. I have no more respect for them than they have for the chickens that feed them."

  The two vampires were silent. Delatour decided to change the subject.

  "Why did you kidnap Mystie Larousse?"

  "Why? Yes. There are many answers to this question."

  "Try to start with one of them."

  "The desire to know her. This young person is very special, to many points of view. Her lineage, her psychic power. Everyone knows she was able to destroy many black souls with only her will. Which, theoretically, is impossible unless one is possessed by a demon or an angel. I wanted to know what motivated her."

  "And what did you find?"

  Charles smiled. "Want to learn what I know? I would hate to disappoint you. Her lineage was marked by a demon. But allow me to do say no more."

  "What do you want from her?"

  "Many opportunities are available to me. I confess that you know the right people! She will be very useful to me. And I will look closely at her family tree. Who knows to how many bastards this demon gave birth? The possibilities are vast. When I eared speaking of her exploits, I did not give credence to rumours. But it seems I was wrong."

  "She is primarily a very fragile human being. Generations have mixed blood."

  "Don't take me for a fool. You know as well as I that blood has nothing to do with it. Only the soul counts. Otherwise, I would have already grabbed her mortal coil. You seem to worry a lot about her. Could there be a link between you that I would ignore?"

  "She's a friend."

  "Yes. That's what she said about you too. And you're both very mediocre liars. It's pretty funny...or should I say refreshing. For a time. Then this acidulous simpering becomes annoying. Get a grip on yourself, Tower! You are no longer an enamored stripling!"

  "What do you want from me?" Delatour asked, preferring to focus attention of the vampire on him.

  Charles remained silent again, staring his interlocutor in the eye. He seemed to think about the answer he would give, or maybe he had not yet decided. Delatour had more and more the feeling that Charles was an opportunist who worked on intuition, rather than following an established strategy. It made him unpredictable and more dangerous.

  "You are also an interesting person. I'd like to know more about your scientific research. Why not talk about that?"

  "I have nothing to say about it."

  "You do some research on stem cells," Charles continued, ignoring Delatour’s interruption. "The stem cells, these cells are not yet specialized, and can replace any other. Is that not the case?"

  "I have no doubt you already know the answer."

  "Come on, Tower! You would be the first researcher who doesn’t like to talk about his research."

  "What I have to say about it is public. I can refer you to publications on the subject."

  "Should I take it for sulkiness or a provocation? I am trying to know you better!"

  "You have the parchment. You already know a lot. Speaking of provocation, which game do you play?"

  "I do not see what you are referring."

  "I am certain that yes, you do!"

  "Oh! You speak probably of my faithful servant," Charles answered as if suddenly remembering.

  "Who else?"

  "He is very devoted to me. And I confess I was curious to see what would happen when you would be in each other’s presence."

  "I do not see where the mystery lays. He has always been crazy, obtuse and narrow-minded. He has not changed in five hundred years. He does not even seem to be aware of his nature."

  "Because you, you are different?"

  "I do not see what you are getting at."

  "You speak, you live, you feed like a human being. You live with human beings. You believe you're in love with this human girl. That's what she is, despite her incredible affiliation. Another little effort and you can apply for the Peace or Medicine Nobel Prize. So tell me, who did not change in five hundred years? Who forgot his true nature? You try to remain what you were in your lifetime. I see no difference."

  "Pure speculation! You don't know who I was five hundred years ago!

  "Don't be so sure!"

  Delatour wrinkled his eyes in an effort to disregard the mortal coil, and find in the attitudes, words, a resemblance to someone he might have met hundred years earlier. But so many years had passed! Impossible to know if he had met this man before.

  "Who are you?"

  "Finally!" Charles replied, slapping his thigh. "Finally, you ask the right question. I thought we would never succeed."

  The two vampires stared. Delatour remained silent. Charles had a discouraged sigh.

  "You forgot? I'm offended. You will have to discover it alone. I confess to be enjoying this interview. I should have come sooner."

  "Allow me to not share that assessment."

  Charles laughed. "It will come in time. Maybe. Or not." He finished with tiredness.

  Delatour was getting tired of this game. If Charles was as mad as his servant, it could last for long time. The idea that Mystie might be in the presence of Childeric revolted him. This exchange was going nowhere. Better to try to put an end to it, and leave the place. Charles was hiding something, it was obvious. Delatour had less and less desire to know what it was. He felt that it was shady, dark, deep, and unstable. He did not want to risk by an unfortunate word to cause a chain reaction.

  "Well. You want the parchment. I want the young woman. Let’s arrange an exchange, shall we?"

  "No."

  "No?"

  "No. I have all the cards in my hands. I detain the young woman. You are in my power, and therefore also the parchment. Once again, you rushed headlong, sure of your motivations, your power."

  "Mystie will not stand at your service. Neither will I. You are wasting your time."

  Charles smiled. "That is not the issue. Anyway, you underestimate me. As always."

  Delatour tried again to find where he had met this man. In vain. Seeing it, Charles burst out laughing again. But it was without enjoyment. A laughter of derision.

  "The big Tower is pathetic. You are right. Finally you will be of no use to me and you spoil my pleasure. Leave the parchment and disappear from my sight!"

  "I will not leave without Mystie."

  "Either you leave or you disappear and this time definitively. My faithful servant will look after you. He doubtless has many flaws, but you would be wrong to underestimate him. I probably will not give you his opportuni
ty twice. Then leave before I change my mind. About your precious girl, I'll leave her with you at my departure. Until then, she will be my safe-conduct in case you would try again something stupid."

  Delatour hesitated in front of this twist in the drama. Would he be more useful inside or outside to save Mystie? Charles had looked away and seemed lost in contemplation of the wall, clearly unwillingly to continue the interview. Without a word, Delatour got up and left the room. He had not left the parchment, but Charles did not seem to notice this omission.

  CHAPTER - 27-

  Delatour ascended the stairs, thinking. Among the countless people he had met, how many vampires could blame him enough to keep track of his "biography". Let alone to live in partnership with this insane Childeric. Charles did not seem to be irrational, at least not completely. So how could he bear the presence of this monster? Unless he was as perverse as his servant, and only better know how to hide it.

  In his life as a soldier, as during his "non-life", Delatour had killed many people. How many had been able to become vampires? He had no difficulty recognizing the torturer of his mother. But Charles reminded him of no one. Nothing in his gestures, his vocabulary, his soul vibrations rang his memory. He reviewed the words exchanged in search of a clue. Someone he had met both during his life and no-life time. This greatly reduced the field of research. He had underestimated him in the past. Poor information, and too subjective to his taste.

  Yet discovering his identity was important. Delatour was convinced of it.

  Reaching the ground floor, along the waiting room at the entrance, he met Silvo and Clothilde, who rose at his approach. He motioned them to leave the clinic. He felt the need to break away, to get some fresh air, to go out of this suffocating space in which Charles had locked him. They joined the police cars discreetly parked in the middle of other vehicles.

  Clothilde was silent but her glance was full of interrogations. Silvo did not show the same restraint.

  "So? Have you seen Mystie?"