by Lund, S. E.
"You're a man," she says and runs her fingers through his hair. "A beautiful hot-blooded man who's wasting all that beauty and passion on a preacher who died over twelve centuries ago, who is now nothing more than a ghost. I want your passion and your blood." She turns to me. "Shall I take it?"
Michel glances to where I stand but I'm helpless to defend him.
"You'll do as you wish, Marguerite," I say, for I'm unable to deny her anything.
"Yes, I will, won't I?" She turns back to Michel and runs a finger over his mouth. He tries to pull back from her touch, but he's immobilized by her powers, frozen in place. "I wish..." she says slowly. "I wish to drink your beautiful priest-brother's blood, Julien, until he's almost dead, and then, I think I'll turn him into an immortal. I'll do it right here on the altar. How gloriously blasphemous would that be?"
"Very gloriously blasphemous, Marguerite," I reply.
"And you'll watch, won't you, Julien?" she says, her hands running down Michel's cheeks to his shoulders.
"I am your servant, Marguerite," I say. "I do your bidding."
"Please," Michel says, a look of abject horror on his face. "Please don't... Mother of God, I beseech you..."
"Your holy Mother won't help you now, Michel," she says. I close my eyes against my brother's pain, and at that moment I hate her more than anything.
"Witch," Michel whispers. "Demon."
"No, Michel," she says. "Not a witch or a demon. Now, up you get onto the altar. Lie down, your arms spread. Think of your Lord with his own arms on the cross, dying to save the world from its sins. You'll die, sweet priest, to help me sin even more."
"Please, have mercy..."
"I have no mercy," she says. "No god or virgin showed me any. Why should I show it to you?"
Then I feel her eyes on me.
"Julien, you must watch," she says, and I'm unable to deny her. I turn back and watch as Michel climbs onto the altar, lying there with his arms spread beneath the Basilica's flying buttresses.
She climbs on top of him, leans down and turns his neck to the side.
"Sweet, sweet Michel. How good it will be to corrupt you." She bites down on his neck and I know how she feels at that moment – the blood lust, the desire, the warm rush of blood into her mouth...
Michel cries out, his body arching from the pain and horror.
"You see," she says, her mouth bloody, her teeth sharp. "There was no bolt of lightning to kill us both for this sacrilege. There was no avenging angel come to rescue you. Free your mind, Michel. There is no God but there are gods. Us." Then, she bites her wrist and presses it against his mouth. "Drink."
Michel does, for he's so weak, like me before him, he can't stop himself.
* * *
Later, Michel lies on the bed in our residence, his surplice bloodied. On either side of him are two young women, a redhead and a brunette. He wakes with a gasp, pushing their hands away as they try to undress him, pulling away the woman who has her hands in his breeches.
"I'm a priest," he says in horror, but they only giggle at him.
"You're not a priest any longer," the brunette says. "You're dead. But you're not all dead." She turns to Marguerite. "He's quite alive down there."
"Stop!" he shouts, and pushes her away forcefully.
Beside me, Marguerite claps.
"So chaste in mind, lovely Michel, if not in body," she says, glee in her voice. "So noble, so dedicated to your vows. How impressed would your Pope be if he could see your resistance? Do you not know that through the years, priests, bishops and even popes have married or had concubines?"
"We're all sinners," Michel says. "We struggle each day with our base desires."
"You're a fool. God made you a man with desires. Why would He then deny them? Even many of the Apostles were married. You're aroused by what these women are doing to you. Why fight? You're not a priest any longer. Not now."
"Why are you doing this to me?" He turns to me. "Julien, why are you letting her?"
Marguerite goes to the side of the bed.
"Don't blame your sweet brother," she says. "He has no free will when he's with me just as you'll have none. I'm doing this to you in part because I want you for myself. Imagine – beautiful identical twin vampires to stay with me forever. My Sire abandoned me and what choice do I have? Now, I'll have a man of God and a strong knight to protect me. God's had you long enough, beautiful priest and He's wasting you." She sits on the edge of the bed.
"Do you enjoy seeing me shamed?" Michel says, his voice breaking. "Seeing me break my vows?"
She smiles sweetly. "Why, yes, I do. I love seeing your shame, Michel. I know it hides your lust and it's that lust that I want."
Michel grimaces and grips his head, squeezing his eyes shut and I know he's starting to feel the need. A need he doesn't yet understand but which will consume his life from this day forward.
"What's wrong with me?" he says.
"You're dead, as the girl said." Marguerite leans closer to him. "You need only drink blood to complete the transformation. I've brought these girls for you. Pick one and drink her blood. Become immortal."
"If I were dead, I'd be with God in Heaven," he says, shaking his head.
"Forget your god and forget heaven." She waves a hand. "It's a lie told by old men to keep you in their thrall. I'm offering you real immortality. Stop being obedient to some distant and tyrannical god and become one instead. It is we who are the gods. We are the ones who choose those who live and those who die."
"You corrupted Julien as well?"
"Yes." She nods. "I'm turning you for him, sweet Michel, although he doesn't want it. Julien loves you so much despite your betrayal of your family that he begged me not to turn you, to leave you to your god. But I want you and one day he'll thank me. Now, drink their blood," she says and motions to the girls. "Live forever with Julien at your side."
"No," he says. "I won't. I'd rather burn in Hell than be a monster."
She shrugs. "So be it. You'll suffer a long and slow death if you don't soon drink. Your body will start to wither, your breath sucked out of you. Pain will be all you know. The process will take several days, perhaps a week but you will be dead, and there will be no heaven for you. Just a bed of worms." She rises and motions to the two girls to follow. "Call me when you change your mind."
* * *
In the end, it's his love for me that convinces Michel to relent. He was prepared to die, to endure the pain but I kneel at his bedside for days on end, my hands clasped around his, weeping like a boy for him not to leave me.
"Forgive me," I say, choking with emotion. "I tried to stop her. She has such power over me. I tried, Michel. I really tried but God has forsaken us both."
Michel finally reaches out a hand to me, stroking my head as if in a blessing.
"I won't forsake you," he whispers.
By then, he's too weak to take a mortal himself, and so I drain one of the girls and capture her blood in a chalice – one from the altar at the Basilica.
Just one more sacrilege to accompany the rest.
He drinks and becomes immortal.
* * *
I close the manuscript and cover my eyes for a moment, overcome by what I've read. It's almost midnight and I'm tired, my mind horrified. I can't help but feel grief for Michel – for both these brothers turned by a vampire against their will. No wonder he didn't want to read this to me – it shows him being murdered on the altar in his church, then assaulted by those women and that despite his horror, he responded to them.
The love the brothers feel for each other despite their break comes through loud and clear and now I'm curious about their fate over the years. The manuscript is thick and I can't wait to read more but I'm tired. I put it away and stand at the window for a moment, remembering Michel, thinking about everything that's happened since that fateful message I posted.
I remind myself that I'm hoping to become a vampire hunter and my role is to find them and condemn those who reject the treaty, not kn
ow them – figuratively and for real – out of morbid curiosity.
And of course, the ultimate goal of my work will be to find a cure and end vampirism once and for all.
I go to bed haunted by the images of Michel's death and rebirth, tossing and turning for hours before finally falling asleep when the sun starts to rise.
Chapter 7
"Those who restrain desire, do so because theirs is weak enough to be restrained."
William Blake
Just after dusk, I take the bus back to the SCU for another interview. I'm hoping I don't have to fight again and that all I have to do is answer questions. I'm also dreading seeing Michel. How can I look him in the face after reading his story, knowing how much it would horrify him for me to know?
I get off at the stop and walk the block from the stop to the old building. When I get to the abandoned brewery beside it, a figure steps out from the alley onto the pavement.
It's Julien.
I put a hand over my heart because he startled me.
"Are you stalking me or something?" I ask when he starts walking beside me.
"No," he says, a touch of affront in his voice. "Just thought I'd come down and see how things go. I work for the SCU. I'm interested in what happens with you, considering my history."
I frown and keep walking, not sure what I think about his interest.
We stop outside the steps leading up to the front door of the SCU and he just stands there with his hands in his pockets, looking at me. I try to avoid his eyes, which are like Michel's – so clear blue, fringed with thick dark lashes and framed by arched brows.
"Are you coming in?"
"Nah," he says, shrugging. "Just part of the security team. Keeping an eye on any movement in the vicinity."
"I don't see anyone else."
"That's good. If you could see them, I'd fire their asses. They're supposed to be undetectable."
"Michel said he had a detail on me. Are you part of it?"
"Are you kidding? No way he'd agree to let me near you."
I frown at that. "Why not?"
"He'd be afraid I'd get a little too close to you. I have my own detail on you."
"You two brothers," I say and shake my head. "Why do you each think I'm your possession? This is the 21st Century. I'm a modern woman in a democracy. Slavery ended a long time ago."
"Not between vampires and humans."
"You should be ashamed, then. What's wrong with vampires that they still want slaves?"
"It's our power. We're stronger. We're faster. We're more strategic. We can't help but dominate humans. It takes a lot of self-control not to. Most of us just barely keep our basic natures in check to abide by the terms of the treaty."
I turn and start up the steps. "You're just humans with mutations. Not some kind of separate species. We should share the same rights." I turn around to face him and he just cracks that half-grin like he thinks I'm cute. "Don't smile at me like I'm a child."
"Eve," he says softly and climbs the steps so that his face is on level with mine. "To me, you are an embryo. I'm eight hundred years old."
"Then you should leave me alone."
He smiles briefly. "I know. You have to understand something about us. We can't resist you, Michel and I. Twins have a special relationship. We have a shared past. We have many things in common. You're one of them."
"I don't even know either of you."
He exhales. "No you don't, but we know you. I have a feeling that you will be getting to know us both very well."
I glare at him and turn away to enter the building. As I stand at the elevator, I turn back briefly to see him still standing there on the steps, watching me.
* * *
I enter the boardroom where Michel and the others have gathered for my next test and take a seat across from their table. Michel's gaze is fixed on me – I can feel it from where I sit and I avoid him, looking everywhere but in his direction. I'm determined to get through this without looking him directly in the eye because I fear I'll blush or give away the fact that I know what happened to him.
He shouldn't feel shame about it. He's innocent of everything, but he's a priest, one born in an era very different from ours, and no doubt his experience has formed the man he's become. I've taken classes in psychology and know how traumas affect people. Hell, I have my own deep dark secrets that my mind won't let me remember.
"How are you, Eve?" he says to me while Ed and Terri confer over a file in the corner of the room.
Now I can't avoid looking at him. When I do, I try to keep my face impassive but as usual I'm struck by his beauty – like Julien, he has black hair against such pale skin, his blue eyes fringed with thick black lashes under expressive brows, his soft mouth and square jaw. My heart beats a little faster, remembering our kiss. My cheeks heat under his gaze but I force myself not to look away.
"I'm fine, Michel," I say, keeping my voice light as if nothing has changed. And it's then that vivid images of him being killed on the altar in the Basilica fill my mind's eye. I try to blot the image out of my mind, but of course, my mind won't let me consciously forget any of these images. Instead, it keeps forcing me back to them.
I smile at him, purposely, trying to appear calm and cool.
He smiles back at me, pressing his index finger into his cheek and then points at me accusingly, a grin on his face. Then I get it – my dimples. He's reminding me of what he said about my dimples… It's so intimate and sweet, my breath hitches. I feel all mushy inside and my heart breaks just a little for him.
He and Julien are nothing like the monsters of my imagination. I thought taking on my mother's work would see me finding a way to kill vampires and now, what's foremost on my mind is whether I'll have sex with one of them.
Terri takes her seat and Ed closes a file and comes around the table, leaning against it, his arms folded.
"You met Dr. Theresa Starr. She's the lead profiler for the SCU."
"Call me Terri," she says and smiles.
"And of course you already know Agent de Cernay," he says, pointing to Michel. "He's our advisor from the Council and operations lead on the River Man case."
I raise my eyebrows at mention of the River Man serial case. It's been the talk of the city. I make eye contact with Ed and Terri, but I've already played eye games with Michel and so I don't with him.
Finally, Ed hands me a case file and I turn my attention from them to the papers inside.
"Take a look," Ed says. "I know you're not trained in forensics or police procedure, but just look through and tell us what you make of it. We want to see your analytic skills. Your ability to encounter new information and synthesize it – make inductive leaps. You have ten minutes."
The thick file contains a series of grisly autopsy photos in vivid color. The crime scene photographs reveal fully-dressed bodies with their gloved hands shackled in front of them, their decapitated heads in their embrace. Half submerged in water, the limbs are tangled in seaweed and ropes attached to old dock pilings.
All six victims were similarly murdered. I read over the autopsy reports – there's no evidence of drugs or alcohol. No defensive wounds. No sign of trauma. No ligature marks indicating they've been restrained before being killed. They were just all drained of blood and then bound and decapitated post-mortem and then dumped into the rivers. I read over the reports made by the people who found the bodies, by the police officers who attended the scene, and the detective notes.
"So," O'Neil says, checking his watch. He removes his glasses and slips them into his pocket. He folds his arms. "What are your first thoughts after reading over the file?"
I flip through the file.
"I'm only pre-med, but it's pretty clear that they were all killed by a vampire and had their head cut off after. There's no lividity so their blood was drained before death. There's no bruising from the decapitation. Because there are no wounds or marks on their wrists or ankles, it seems they weren't assaulted first or restrained. They mus
t have either known the vampire and submitted willingly or have been compelled. The one thing I don't get is the brain scans on the victims. They all had strange neurological findings."
"How so?"
"They have growth in certain areas that suggest prolonged drug use. Or use of SSRIs, MDMA or other drugs that increase serotonin and dopamine. But the ME's reports say no traces of any of the meds. Were they blood slaves?"
The three of them exchange glances and I wonder if I'm on track or completely off track.
"Why do you ask?"
"Their brain scans look like addicts, but they had no evidence of long-term drug use."
Ed nods. "Anything else?"
"They were all dumped in similar locations in a limited geographical area – all in shallow water in the waterfront district, weighted so the current didn't take them. The bodies were all called in to 9-1-1. So it seems the killer wanted them to be found, and soon," I say.
Ed returns to his seat and scribbles something down on his notepad. He looks up at me.
"Anything else? Take your time."
I flip through the file once more, peering at the autopsy photographs, then back to the coroner's reports.
"Given the 9-1-1 calls directing police to the dumpsite, and the fact that they were all decapitated, it sounds as if these are executions meant to send a message."
I glance at Ed but his face is poker straight, as is Terri's. Only Michel is smiling as he looks down at his own file. That must be good. He wouldn't be smiling if I was doing a bad job…
"Anything else?"
I shrug. "That's all I have," I say and close the file. "These victims didn't put up a fight. There are no restraint wounds." I look up at them. "They were drained, and then decapitated and bound postmortem like animals for slaughter."
"Did you note anything unusual about the autopsy photos?" Michel reaches into his briefcase and pull out a small magnifying glass, handing it to me. "Take another look."
"Give me a moment," I say and bend over, passing the lens across the photographs. I wipe the surface of one where I see a small mark like a brand beneath the ear. A Lorraine Cross.
