Washing my hands.
When the message reached me that Nicolas de Lenfent was about to die a secret part of me rejoiced.
The little village outside Orléans was laced with narrow streets and mossy walls. Inside the little white houses, the townspeople ate together and laughed and warmly kissed their children.
I made my way to an ancient stone building on the outskirts. Nicki's captor was a young but robust creature known as Gaspar, narrow-eyed and sharp-tongued. Brusque with fear as he recognized me, he barred my way as if I was about to charge past. He hadn't even spotted Louis, the pale wraith behind me. I fixed him with an icy smile.
The snow formed drifts against the old oak as I waited, dreaming that I was kin to every mortal man. I was a perfect magnification of every human life in this little wilderness. I wasn't evil, I was radiant. There was no chaos, only bliss. And my immortal children sat around me, wise and magnificent, as perfectly loving as any mortal family.
The clock had chimed three by the time Gaspar's master had arrived to take his vengeance on Nicki. I stepped out into the faint moonlight to greet him. We sized each other up as vampires tend to do. I was pleased to be at least four inches taller, but he was older than me and I'd never found out his secrets. Luckily, he knew many of mine and for a while he kept his distance.
I spoke too fast and all at once. "I share your grief for this mortal man, Hubert. Nicolas knew this mortal belonged to you when he killed him. I hate Nicki unutterably and yet I cannot lose him."
He looked at me for what seemed like hours, searching out the changes of expression on my face and the secret music of my soul. He had fascinated me at Armand's Mediterranean retreat with his dark skin and the marks of his mortal life still on him, but he had kept mostly to his private rooms. With his generous mouth and dispassionate eyes, Vincent remained an emigma.
"You don't know my grief." He rested his hand on my shoulder and the gesture took on an air of menace. I felt him probing me again and I knew that he had found the name, Gitano. My soul surged with resentment.
"He has taken someone from you too and yet you tell me you cannot lose him."
"I'm not here to talk about that," I snapped.
"But we are going to talk about it."
I looked away. This was part of his price, of course.
"Yes, he stole Gitano from me, whom I loved." My voice was even but I knew he could feel the emotion that name still stirred within me. I let him see what was written in my heart though it burned me to do it.
"It's time to let him go," Vincent said. "I can feel your hatred for this creature. He is a burden to you and to everyone who crosses his path. We should not be enemies over this when his death serves us both so well."
"I'm sorry for what he has done to you, and to me for that matter, but Nicki isn't going to die." I met his gaze. "That's exactly how it is."
Vincent moved to the edge of the little half-frozen stream. He moved gracefully in spite of the beautifully crafted wooden leg that took the place of his own. It was intricately carved and jointed at the knee and ankle. With his back to me he said "And yet he must pay."
"What's to be done?" I asked. "How can I take on his debt?"
"Why would you do this?" He seemed genuinely curious.
I admit, I was curious myself.
"Are you going to tell me what you want from me or not?"
"I'll tell you when I'm ready." And then he was gone.
I left Louis to deal with Nicki. When he returned to our Paris hotel the following night I didn't ask him what he'd done.
I really don't care. Let him rot.
The little village outside Orléans was laced with narrow streets and mossy walls. Inside the little white houses, the townspeople ate together and laughed and warmly kissed their children.
I made my way to an ancient stone building on the outskirts. Nicki's captor was a young but robust creature known as Gaspar, narrow-eyed and sharp-tongued. Brusque with fear as he recognized me, he barred my way as if I was about to charge past. He hadn't even spotted Louis, the pale wraith behind me. I fixed him with an icy smile.
The snow formed drifts against the old oak as I waited, dreaming that I was kin to every mortal man. I was a perfect magnification of every human life in this little wilderness. I wasn't evil, I was radiant. There was no chaos, only bliss. And my immortal children sat around me, wise and magnificent, as perfectly loving as any mortal family.
The clock had chimed three by the time Gaspar's master had arrived to take his vengeance on Nicki. I stepped out into the faint moonlight to greet him. We sized each other up as vampires tend to do. I was pleased to be at least four inches taller, but he was older than me and I'd never found out his secrets. Luckily, he knew many of mine and for a while he kept his distance.
I spoke too fast and all at once. "I share your grief for this mortal man, Hubert. Nicolas knew this mortal belonged to you when he killed him. I hate Nicki unutterably and yet I cannot lose him."
He looked at me for what seemed like hours, searching out the changes of expression on my face and the secret music of my soul. He had fascinated me at Armand's Mediterranean retreat with his dark skin and the marks of his mortal life still on him, but he had kept mostly to his private rooms. With his generous mouth and dispassionate eyes, Vincent remained an emigma.
"You don't know my grief." He rested his hand on my shoulder and the gesture took on an air of menace. I felt him probing me again and I knew that he had found the name, Gitano. My soul surged with resentment.
"He has taken someone from you too and yet you tell me you cannot lose him."
"I'm not here to talk about that," I snapped.
"But we are going to talk about it."
I looked away. This was part of his price, of course.
"Yes, he stole Gitano from me, whom I loved." My voice was even but I knew he could feel the emotion that name still stirred within me. I let him see what was written in my heart though it burned me to do it.
"It's time to let him go," Vincent said. "I can feel your hatred for this creature. He is a burden to you and to everyone who crosses his path. We should not be enemies over this when his death serves us both so well."
"I'm sorry for what he has done to you, and to me for that matter, but Nicki isn't going to die." I met his gaze. "That's exactly how it is."
Vincent moved to the edge of the little half-frozen stream. He moved gracefully in spite of the beautifully crafted wooden leg that took the place of his own. It was intricately carved and jointed at the knee and ankle. With his back to me he said "And yet he must pay."
"What's to be done?" I asked. "How can I take on his debt?"
"Why would you do this?" He seemed genuinely curious.
I admit, I was curious myself.
"Are you going to tell me what you want from me or not?"
"I'll tell you when I'm ready." And then he was gone.
I left Louis to deal with Nicki. When he returned to our Paris hotel the following night I didn't ask him what he'd done.
I really don't care. Let him rot.