Lisette’s home was nothing like I had expected. Evan certainly paid us well, but the gated property with a winding driveway that led to a sprawling Tudor inspired ranch home, complete with stables and grazing horses, still seemed a bit extravagant.
“Lucy!” I was nearly tackled by a six feet tall blur of red hair and denim. “It’s so good to see you again! And congratulations, both of you!” Lisette released me, which was good because I could breathe again, and grabbed Andre in a similarly bone-crushing hug. If it wasn’t for the fact that she had the hunter’s enzyme, I would have sworn Lisette was a vampire. She was as impossibly strong as she was impossibly beautiful.
“Thanks,” I said with a shy blush. It was almost embarrassing that I was once jealous of her for thinking she had an interest in Andre.
“Where’s Fausto?” Andre asked.
“In the kitchen,” Lisette replied. “He assumed you would be hungry after such a long flight, but I think he really wanted an excuse to avoid helping me muck out the stables. Come inside.” She led us in through a side door and excused herself to clean up. In the kitchen, Fausto was indeed working some kitchen magic, albeit wearing a pink frilly apron printed with pictures of cupcakes.
“Lucy! Andre!” He set down his utensils and we were barraged by another round of enthusiastic hugs and kisses. To be honest, I was a bit nervous when I found out we’d be working with Fausto. Not because he was a vampire, he was the head of the outreach in Paris, but because I had killed his ‘mother’ after she attempted to kill Andre. “So,” he said with an expectant smile. “This time is for real I hope?”
“Yes, as of a few days ago, Lucy and I are officially engaged,” Andre said with a wide smile as I held up my hand to show off the ring.
“I am very pleased to hear that,” Fausto said, beaming at us both. “And I understand we have more in common than just our ethnicity! How is your father? I was so relieved to hear that he is alive and well. His disappearance worried so many of us."
I had forgotten that he and Ida had both come to Paris to set up the outreach. It was odd to realize that Fausto was yet another person who knew my father before I did.
“He’s doing well,” I replied with a nervous smile. “He’s back with the police department.” Again, I felt a bit uncomfortable about the incident with Fausto’s mother. It must have been obvious because he gave me a chastising look and wagged his finger at me.
“Lucy, I know what you are thinking and you need to stop that right now,” he admonished. “If anyone was in the wrong it was me for believing that people like Mira could be changed. This is my family, Andre, the organization, and now you. Even Lisette is like the wild little daughter I’ve never had. But I’ll have you know, she scares me,” he added with a conspiratorial wink.
“I heard that!” Lisette said, coming back into the kitchen. “Pay him no mind. Grandpapa here is just upset that he can’t beat me in a fight.”
“She’s made a deal with the devil for that kind of strength.”
“I’ve done no such thing. It’s the horses,” she explained. “No amount of weight lifting compares to chasing down and roping a spooked mare. Fausto, whatever are you wearing?”
Fausto looked down at the frilly apron. “It was in your cupboard. I assumed you had a secret soft side.”
“It must be my mother’s, but it suits you.” She turned to me and explained. “My parents are going through something of a messy and public divorce. I’ve only just taken over the ranch because neither of them trusted the other to hire help for the horses. Since they weren’t going to be adults, here I am.”
Her explanation still left many questions, but after an amazing breakfast, we adjourned to Lisette’s study and her situation became clear. Photos of her parents revealed that Lisette’s mother was an internationally known actress. Her father was not immediately recognizable, but if my interpretations of French business magazine covers were correct, he appeared to be some hotshot banker or company head.
“So, where should we begin?” Lisette asked, flipping a switch on the wall that slid away, revealing a large computer monitor similar to the one in Evan’s office.
“I want to know more about the climate here,” Andre began. “Your reports seem to indicate a lot of instability within the remaining ES.”
“It is utter chaos,” she responded. “Without the Elders pulling all of the strings, everyone wants to be the next in line to usurp power.”
“In a way it works for us,” Fausto added. “There is a bitter rivalry between the castes at the moment and no one trusts anyone else enough to organize more than a handful of followers. But it also means an increase in the violence that has spilled over into the human world and the authorities are just as corrupt as ever.”
“What about this woman who is claiming to be an Elder?” I asked, thinking about the woman from the cemetery. She had certainly sounded ancient, even if she didn’t move like it.
“Delphine,” Lisette said with disgust. “She is claiming to be Delphine LaLaurie.”
“Hang on,” I said as the pieces of my memories suddenly clicked into place. “That’s the name I couldn’t remember. When I was being held prisoner, there were people, humans, who had been horribly disfigured and kept in cages. Alphonse, the Elder who tried butchering me, said something like, ‘Delphine approves of this, but I don’t.’ The things that had been done to these people were just like the horrible stories of what LaLaurie did to her slaves. It’s very likely she was the Delphine he spoke of.”
“But wasn’t that in the late eighteenth century?” Fausto asked. “I know we have longer than usual lifespans, but the oldest vamps I’ve known were maybe one hundred fifty. Two hundred years might be possible, but beyond that, I don’t think even the Eyes have progressed that far.”
“Oscar claimed that he may have been Jack the Ripper, which means he would have been at least one hundred fifty and he wasn’t considered an Elder,” I pointed out. “He also said the Elders were rumored to be the vampires who originally moved into Paris during the Renaissance. If they were truly as selfish and greedy as we’ve come to learn, doesn’t it make sense that they would keep the secret of their supposed immortality to themselves or at least to a small group of loyalists?”
“That is a sound theory, but here’s the biggest problem. Everyone who claims to have been approached by this woman has given a completely different description of her. None of them describes an old woman. She’s always young and beautiful,” Lisette explained. “Not to mention that we can’t find any evidence in the lab that there ever was a female Elder.”
“That sounds like the Daughters,” Andre said. “They’ve been suspect number one on our side since the beginning. The communications to the previous Eclipse project heads that we intercepted were all signed by an L. Laurie. It wouldn’t surprise me to learn that they were just using the name to drum up interest.”
“How was there anything left of the lab to get any evidence?” I asked. Considering that the fallout from the explosion buried me alive, and I was at least a half mile away, the lab should have been decimated.
“It was more of an implosion,” Andre explained. “The system that Oscar manipulated was put in place to prevent a deadly event from causing catastrophic damage by way of a vacuum.”
I shuddered at the thought of dying from suffocation in a vacuum and for the briefest moment, felt sorry for those that died that way. Well, almost. I mean, they were still ES vampires, so I couldn’t feel too bad about their deaths. “There’s another possibility,” I said. “Since Oscar had quarters outside the compound, it is possible that Delphine may have had a secret home as well. Probably down in those tunnels.”
“True, but that would be nearly impossible to find,” Lisette said with a frown.
“Why?” I asked.
“The tunnels under Paris span most of the city,” Fausto explained. “And you don’t want to go exploring down there for many reasons. Aside from vampires, there is an entire city of il
legal operations and crime syndicates that use the tunnels.”
“Well, let’s concentrate on finding Oscar’s hideout first,” Andre suggested. “We might even find some clues there.”
“Any idea where that was, Lucy?” Lisette asked, bringing up a map of the underground tunnels on the monitor.
“I think I might be able to figure it out. Where’s the lab?” Lisette highlighted the area of the compound. I was surprised to see that it was much larger than I had expected. “Where did you find me, Andre?”
“Right here.” Andre pointed out an area and Lisette highlighted it.
“Okay, give me a second.” I traced the path I took from the lab to the metro tunnel to get my bearings. Tracing it back, things started to become clearer and I was able to find my way back to where Oscar’s apartment was likely located. “Right here, or around this area,” I said with confidence.
“Why am I not surprised?” Andre remarked with a snort of disgust.
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“Our misunderstood and tragic monster wasn’t very creative,” he said smugly. “That’s right below the opera house.”
Strangely, I had equated Oscar’s obsession with me to some kind of sinister version of The Phantom of the Opera. “Okay then,” I sighed, pushing aside the sinking feeling that this assignment was about to become even more unpleasant than I had anticipated. “Let’s go find ourselves a phantom.”
Chapter 11
“So Fausto, how is it that you’re a mod and Italian. I thought all of the vampires originated here in France.”
We were in Andre’s car, in one of the tunnels under Paris, near the expected site of Oscar’s apartment. While Andre scanned the area for a safe way in, I distracted myself from our claustrophobic quarters by nosing into the lives of our companions.
“Actually, I believe the original vampires came from the Alps,” Fausto replied. “There are too many vampire tales native to the eastern areas of Europe for Paris to be the only place our presence was known, but that is a curious study in and of itself and does not answer your question. I am the product of a failed Eyes experiment. Some time ago, not long after the Second World War, a group of vampires from Rome made a deal with the Eyes. They would receive modifications and in exchange, members of the ES would receive prominent positions in the most powerful city state in the world.”
“The Vatican?” I asked, wondering how much of what conspiracy theorists believe might actually be true.
“Yes, the Vatican. Sounds a bit like fiction, no?” he said with a wink. “For some time, this arrangement worked in the favor of the ES, but they soon learned that the type of power the church held over so many nations was not built on smoke.”
“What is it built on?” Lisette asked, suddenly interested in what Fausto was saying.
“I’m afraid that for all I have seen, even I do not know the answer to that. The mysteries of the church run deep,” he said with an apologetic shrug. “Deep, but powerful. The ES were driven out and the Roman vampires, who now had much of the same invulnerabilities as the ES, no longer wished for power. Instead, they vowed to use their newfound abilities to protect and serve the Catholic Church.”
“I’m going to guess that the ES didn’t just tuck their tail between their legs and go home,” I commented.
“No, they did not,” Fausto said with a nod. “One of the Roman vampires, a Cardinal by the name of Ruffalo Maestronetti, was taken by force and brought back to Paris. His DNA was used to create three new vampires, of which I was one. He was held captive and tortured. He was given many treatments meant to brainwash him into believing the ES propaganda. Meanwhile, for the first twenty years of our lives, my brothers and I were thoroughly brainwashed ourselves. Ruffalo was given one final treatment that robbed him not only the powers given previously by the ES, but of his own health as well. He was told that the only way to save his own life was to bring us back to Rome, where we were to wage a bloody war and begin our own rise to power.”
He sighed and wiped a tear from his eye, whispering, “I’m sorry,” before continuing. “If the church had any idea what happened next, Ruffalo would be sainted by now. The ES failed to truly comprehend the power of the Holy Spirit. Despite the years of torture and brainwashing, Ruffalo feared not for his own life, believing that his soul had been redeemed. He delivered us as promised, but with the message that we were lost souls in need of heavenly guidance. He died shortly after and we were brought to a beautiful monastery in Tuscany. There, we were treated with kindness and love, and taught to walk in the footsteps of the lord. Years later, when we were deemed ready to begin our new lives as soldiers of God, we were brought back to Rome. It did not take long for the ES to find us.”
“What happened then?” I asked, so completely engrossed in Fausto’s story that our subterranean surroundings no longer bothered me.
“My brothers were killed, but I was brought back to Paris and treated to the same tortures and treatments as Ruffalo. This went on for many years, but I would not break. I kept close the memories of love and acceptance that shaped me into a man and refused to allow anyone to take that from me. I was more than half-dead when I finally made my escape, foolishly seeking my ‘mother.’ That’s when Andre found me.”
“So you’re a Catholic then?” Lisette asked. “I didn’t know that.”
“I believe I am one of God’s creations, despite my artificial beginnings, but I am wary of giving name to my belief,” Fausto answered with a shrug. “Benevolent power is still power, and in my time in Rome I saw as many examples of corrupt power as I have here in Paris.”
“I’m guessing that’s where you learned the notion of family,” I mused. “I was raised Catholic, so I get that it’s kind of a big deal. I’m sorry Mira never came to understand that.”
“Ruffalo was my father,” he said with a note of pride, “but Mira was no more my mother than I am your mother. She was just a lower caste vampire willing to sell her genetic material in exchange for a comfortable lifestyle and expensive modifications. Love is a powerful emotion, but only for those of us who are strong enough to endure the pain it can bring.”
We were all quiet for some time after that, letting Fausto’s profound wisdom sink in. I stole a glance at Andre, who was still typing and staring intently at the map on his computer screen. In our brief time together we had certainly endured enough heartache and pain to think that our love was invincible, but I couldn’t ignore the fact that we were about to face an as of yet unresolved obstacle. I only hoped that after we found Oscar’s apartment, his ghost might finally be put to rest so that we could move on.
Andre startled us all by starting the car. “Sorry,” he apologized, setting the laptop on the console between us. “I’ve located what I think is the apartment, but we aren’t getting in from this side. There’s what looks like a homeless encampment blocking the only safe tunnel and I don’t want to risk finding out if they are friendly. I’m afraid we’re going to have a bit of a hike.”
A bit of a hike was an understatement. We drove back to the surface and parked near the Pompidou Art Museum. Andre led us down into the Metro station. I remembered this particular station from the last time we were in Paris and I hated it. It had corridors that seemed to go on forever, connecting to a shopping mall, a parking garage, and who knows what else. What else turned out to be a narrow, dark, and rather ominous access tunnel. After about a quarter mile, Andre stopped and lifted a hatch set into the ground.
“There’s a ladder, but there’s also a steep drop, so move out of the way when you get to the bottom,” he told us. Fausto went first, then Lisette, then me. Even though I was expecting it, I still managed to stumble when I fell to the ground, landing hard on my left ankle.
“Ow!” I hissed, and rolled out of the way so that Andre wouldn’t land on me.
“Are you okay?” Lisette asked and offered her hand to help me up.
“I might have sprained my ankle, but I should be fine soon,” I
said with a wince. I knew it would heal quickly, but it still hurt like hell.
“We’re a little less than a mile away,” Andre said, putting his arm around my waist to support me. “Can you walk on it?”
“I’m good,” I said, immediately regretting it when I put my weight on that leg. Ignoring the pain, I hobbled along behind everyone else.
“This is it,” Andre said, indicating a dirt and stone wall. “Does any of this look familiar?”
“Honestly? No, but it didn’t look like anything from the outside,” I replied. “How are we going to get in? Oscar had some kind of touch recognition similar to what we use.”
“I know,” Andre replied, already scanning the wall with his phone. “I picked up the frequencies from a similar set up. I’ve just got to access the main controls and see if I can override it. If not, that’s what the heavy equipment is for.”
The heavy equipment was a pickaxe and crowbar that Fausto was carrying. Like most mods, he was unbelievably strong. I tried not to be resentful that this was yet another vampire trait that seemed to miss me.
“This is impossible,” Andre muttered, tapping something into his phone. “That’s…” He looked up at me with an odd expression of fear and disbelief.
“What is it?” I asked.
“If we have the right place, Oscar’s been here… recently.”
“That’s not possible, is it?” I asked. A cold fear spread through me.
“It’s not,” Andre confirmed. “He’s dead. I identified him. I saw his remains into the incinerator after his DNA was collected. But I’m looking at the access log. According to this, Oscar has come in and out of this room on seventeen separate occasions since the last exit was logged on the day of his death. The first one was about two months ago.”
“Which was right when we started finding dead bodies with threatening clues,” I noted. “Is it possible that someone else had access?”
The Eyes of the Sun: The Complete Trilogy Page 73
