Chapter 19

CHAPTER NINETEEN

éTIENNE

October 31, 1765

Le Quartier Sanglant

Father Clarence roused himself shortly after the carriage trundled off from the abbey. I'd considered tying him up, but Daphne would hear none of it.

"He is a priest, étienne! That would be incredibly undignified. Besides, we need his cooperation and he's already bound to be cross with us for abducting him in the middle of the night."

"Cross and confused," Father Clarence said. He rubbed his head. When he saw me sitting across from him, he paled and thrust himself back in his seat. He held his rosary up in front of him and started reciting a litany of prayers.

"Back, vile beast! Back to the depths of Hell with you!"

I arched a brow and looked to Daphne.

"Monsieur, please . That is uncalled for. We didn't have time for introductions back at the abbey, but may I present to you Monsieur étienne de Noailles, vampire emissary to His Majesty," Daphne said.

I inclined my head.

"A pleasure," I said smoothly.

Father Clarence looked even more horrified. Briefly, he appeared to consider his surroundings and his options—possibly to try and make an escape. Daphne seemed to read the same from him because she tutted and lifted her gown up to her thigh, drawing forth her flintlock pistol. She held it steadily, aiming at his knee. I found her threatening self-assurance incredibly erotic.

"Father Clarence," she said in a bored, aristocratic tone. "I really am sorry for the manner and insistence upon which you were brought with us this evening, but I'm afraid I've run out of time to do things with more decorum. You say you are confused, and I aim to alleviate that. I will also promise you that you will not come to harm while you are here with us. Unfortunately, I cannot maintain that same assurance when we reach our destination. Humbly, I beg your patience while I explain everything to you."

She lowered her pistol and Father Clarence lowered his rosary. He nodded at her.

"My companion tonight has been wrongfully accused of the murder of Madame de Pompadour. We've been investigating the manner of her death for weeks and have been led to a particular establishment in le Quartier Sanglant . The last time we were there, we were attacked by an invisible force—a force with the voice of my husband. We found evidence of a summoning circle, as well as a copy of the Pseudomonarchia Daemonum . We believe someone has called forth the demon Asmoday and he is somehow tied to either the body or the soul of my husband. We need someone to perform an exorcism and banish the demon back to Hell."

"But Madame, what you ask is impossible," Father Clarence pleaded. "I cannot do it alone, and certainly not without permission from the Vatican. They require proof that these events are indeed demonic."

"I know," Daphne continued. "And under any other circumstances, we would petition the Vatican for help. But two of my friends have been taken tonight and I fear the worst. I have no more time to waste in seeking permissions. My cousin's and her husband's lives depend on our urgency."

Father Clarence's features softened. "Madame, my heart goes out to you, but I simply do not think I am qualified to be able to hold an exorcism without?—"

"What will it take?" Daphne interrupted, her manner brittle and nearing panic. "Money? Or perhaps you desire something else? A title? I am friends with the king, you know. Or—what else? A lover?"

Father Clarence's mouth dropped open and he reddened in embarrassment. Seizing her moment, Daphne leaned forward.

"Is that it, Monsieur? You wish for something discreet and carnal? I will take you to bed myself, if you want."

I could not control the growl of displeasure that escaped from my chest.

"Perhaps you prefer a male companion? Monsieur de Noailles is one of the most legendary lovers in all of Paris. Do you not find him handsome, Father Clarence?" Daphne pushed forward, kneeling before him. Desperation shone in her angelic face. I wanted to break something. Father Clarence would be a start.

"Madame, please," Father Clarence shied away from her kneeling form. "I have forgone such earthly pleasures. I do not carry a price."

The carriage shuddered to a stop and I felt despair leech into Daphne. We'd arrived in le Quartier Sanglant . Cold and withdrawn, she sat back and opened a hidden drawer beneath her seat. She pulled out several small throwing knives, a handful of thin wooden stakes, and a small pouch of gunpowder and bullets. She started to unfasten some of her heavy petticoats and her panniers, slimming down to her silk gown. From a second hidden compartment inside the carriage, she brought forth a simple leather harness that buckled around her shoulders and beneath her breasts. In it, she stashed her throwing knives and her pistol, coolly detached from Father Clarence's and my astonishment. In her pared down Artemis costume and armaments she no longer bothered to conceal, she looked like a goddess preparing for battle.

In one final moment of despondency, I snarled and seized Father Clarence by the throat.

"Fuck the Vatican," I raged. "If you don't agree to help us, I'll kill you now and distribute your body parts to the impoverished vampires nearby."

Father Clarence quaked at my violence, but Daphne laid a hand on my arm.

"No, étienne. Leave him be. There doesn't need to be any more unnecessary killing. This is not his fight, mon cher . If he cannot help us, we must face it on our own. If only there was time to get a message to The Order?—"

"Wait—but The Order does not have female members," Father Clarence choked through my grip. I loosened my hold.

"What do you know of The Order?" I demanded.

"Well, I know them by reputation, as any priest does. They do the work of God where we cannot! But surely, Madame—" He eyed Daphne's leather harness full of weapons and his fear melted away. "You are with The Order, aren't you, Madame? Oh, I cannot believe it! You must tell me—what are they like? Since when do they allow women among their ranks? Never mind, never mind. That would be presumptuous of me to ask and I am sure you took some sort of holy vow to protect The Order's secrets. Oh! I cannot believe I am meeting a member of The Holy Order!"

His face split into a wide grin and he reached for her hand, presently curled around a small glass vial of what I guessed was holy water. Daphne cocked her brow, perplexed by his sudden change in demeanor.

"Madame, if I have offended in any way, I regretfully apologize. I will do whatever I can to aid you in your mission. I only ask that you speak well of me to your masters."

"You will help us?" I asked suspiciously. "Meaning, you will perform an unsanctioned exorcism?"

He nodded vigorously, his eyes wide and sweat condensing on his forehead. "Yes, yes. If that is what you require. I am bound to do as you ask." Father Clarence felt about his pockets and produced a small, yellowed bible and his rosary. He gestured to the vial of holy water in Daphne's hand and she tossed it to him.

"Very well, Father Clarence. I thank you for your change of heart. étienne and I will do what we can to protect you, but understand that we face a cruel and extremely dangerous foe tonight."

Father Clarence nodded. "Asmoday."

Daphne shook her head. "I refer to my husband."

Vibrating with excitement and no small amount of fear, Father Clarence got out of the carriage. Daphne made to follow him, but I held her back.

"Are you certain about this?"

"Of course not. But we don't have a choice. I don't know what we're going to face in there, étienne, but I would rather face it with a man of God than without," she said, frowning.

"You go in with a man of God and a beast from Hell," I said, lightly touching her cheek. She smiled and the sadness in it nearly undid me.

"You are no beast from Hell. Trust me. I know the type." She leaned forward and pressed a small, chaste kiss to my lips.

With that, we left the safety of the carriage and began our march to the bookshop.

Father Clarence babbled incessantly to Daphne the entire way to the Rue des Oubliés , asking her question after question about The Order. I rolled my eyes in annoyance. If this priest failed us tonight, I would happily drain him. Now that he knew of Daphne's allegiance to The Order, he looked at her with something like boyhood admiration. I could understand it, but it needled my irrational jealousy.

For her part, Daphne was quiet in between her terse, one-word responses to Father Clarence. Her eyes darted around, and her muscles twitched with the slightest noises, though there weren't many. Curiously, and perhaps inauspiciously, the district was silent. There were none of the customary sounds of a lively neighborhood—no raucous groups loitering around late-night taverns or brothels. In fact, I couldn't see a single lit candle or the glow of a hearth anywhere. Le Quartier Sanglant appeared to be deserted once again.

A couple of streets away from the bookshop, Daphne hauled up. She beckoned to Father Clarence and I and motioned for us to be quiet.

"étienne, can you detect anything?"

I took a deep breath and reached out with my senses. I heard rats scurrying around piles of refuse and wind whispering through broken windows. I heard the heartbeats of Daphne and Father Clarence, one steady and the other racing. I smelled the grit and damp of the streets—stale blood and old sweat, sour ale, and the offal of animals and vampires. Beneath it all, there was an almost undetectable thread; silk, rosewater, fresh blood, and sulfur.

"They are here. Charlotte is, at least. I am less familiar with Philippe's scent. I'm afraid I cannot tell if she is dead or alive. There is fresh blood in the air, though it could be from the broken glass we found at the palace. I'm certain the blood is from small wounds—if there were a greater quantity, it would be a much stronger odor and a greater draw for me."

Father Clarence grimaced and crossed himself.

"Save your prayers for the exorcism, priest," I grumbled.

Daphne let out a sigh of relief. "There is still hope, then."

Father Clarence patted her arm. "There is always hope, my child."

Checking the powder and shot in her pistol, Daphne nodded and started forward again. Father Clarence followed closely behind her, now thankfully silent. I brought up the rear, pausing every few steps to listen for something—anything. As we neared the dilapidated storefront of the bookshop, the sulfur grew stronger—much stronger than it had been when we were here last. I took that to mean either Asmoday had been here more recently, or he had grown stronger since then. Possibly both.

"Be on your guard," I warned. Daphne flashed me a look that said, Well, obviously. Father Clarence wiped the sweat from his brow.

The shop looked exactly as it had when we'd been here the last time. I wasn't surprised. I didn't think anyone would be so foolish as to come here—except for us, of course. I stepped through the doorway and held up my hand to stay the others. I closed my eyes and listened carefully—there it was, the faint fluttering of another heartbeat.

"Someone is here," I whispered to Daphne. "But I only hear one."

Her lips tightened in a firm line. We crept forward slowly, me leading the way, followed by Father Clarence, with Daphne bringing up the rear. This time, I picked up a small candle from a shelf and lit it, then passed it back to Father Clarence. I moved to the back room and the staircase beyond. Even with the wavering light of the candle, the darkness seemed to close in on us. Father Clarence's breaths came in shallow pants and the beads of his rosary clicked softly in his trembling hands.

The stairwell gaped before us and we began our descent.

Halfway down, I could make out Charlotte's pale skin on the floor, directly atop the pentagram. She was breathing but showed no signs of consciousness. I frantically searched the rest of the room for another presence but saw nothing. We appeared to be alone.

I hurried down the remainder of the stairs. At the bottom, Daphne caught sight of Charlotte and rushed forward, but I stopped her.

"Wait," I cautioned. "See where she lies. Remember what happened the last time."

"Charlotte!" Daphne hissed. "Charlotte, it's me, Daphne! Wake up, chérie ."

Charlotte did not stir.

Father Clarence came forward and bent down, crossing himself again. He reached one hand out, but the moment his fingertips breached the summoning circle, the air in the cellar changed. Gusts of rank, rot-scented air swirled around us, carrying a languorous disembodied voice.

"Oh, I really wouldn't do that if I were you, Father."

I looked at Daphne, who had paled. Her features twisted in rage.

" Henri! " She snarled. "Or should I call you Asmoday ?"

A deep, malicious laugh echoed off the walls.

"Very good, ma pute. We're a little bit of both at this point."

Father Clarence swallowed a squeak and began reciting from his bible. The laughter grew louder, drowning out the priest's prayers to a litany of saints, until he called upon Archangel Michael. Suddenly, the laughter became a roar and for a second, all was silent.

Daphne looked around wildly. She threw herself forward, reaching for Charlotte's limp arm. The moment she breached the circle, she was thrown backward with violent force.

"Daphne!" I ran to her. She was uninjured, but dazed.

Father Clarence's eyes widened, but he did not cease his prayers. The small candle shook in his hand when another gust of foul wind blew through the room. Our only light now extinguished, Father Clarence cried out in fear. Without the ability to read the correct passages, he whimpered and resorted to a furious repetition of the Lord's Prayer.

"What did I say?" the voice bellowed. "You never listened to me—never minded me. You dishonored our marriage vows then, just as you dishonor them now. Fucking that vampire! Oh, yes, ma pute , you think I don't know? I know everything. I can smell him all over you, little whore. You hear that, priest? You think I am the worst of your troubles? Turn your prayers to this sinner, you fool."

Daphne shook with fury. Her pallor brightened to a flush of anger.

" Monster ," she spat. She fumbled in her pockets and produced another small candle and a flint. She struck at the flint unsuccessfully. The laughter resumed.

"Stupid woman. Must I do everything for you?"

At once, the room lit ablaze. Several torches along the walls glowed with a sickly yellow light, casting the cellar in a polluted incandescence. As soon as my eyes adjusted to the brightness, I saw Daphne was paralyzed in revulsion.

Across the room stood a very solid—very real—man. He had once been attractive, I thought, but now his skin stretched and bunched over his sagging flesh in an unnatural way. His clothes were stylish and expensive, and would have been impeccable if not for the splashes of blood that covered them. His face was unmarred except for the gaping black voids where his eyes should have been. He grinned cruelly at us, then adopted a tone of bored nonchalance.

"There now," the man said. "Is that better?"

"Henri." Daphne's voice broke through on a sob.

"In the flesh—well, sort of."

"What has happened to you?" Beneath Daphne's terror was a hint of pitied sadness.

"You did this to me!" Henri snarled at her. "If you'd only been a better wife, I would not have sought fulfillment elsewhere—all the way in Venice! If you'd just been compliant, I wouldn't have been driven into the arms of all those other women. I wouldn't have been there that night in Venice when He found me."

"When who found you?" I asked.

Henri ignored me, focusing on Daphne. "You did this to me, wife, but it's not half of what I'm going to do to you." Henri raised his hand in the air and to my horror, Daphne choked a constricted scream. Her body lifted from the ground and she clawed at her throat, losing her breath with every gasp. Henri cackled and watched her feet kick and twist midair.

Without thinking, I hurled myself at him, fangs extended, face already contorting into something monstrous. Henri saw my attack and sidestepped, but my shoulder caught him in the chest and we both went down. I heard Daphne fall to the ground and suck in air and I knew I'd temporarily hit my mark. Henri growled and shoved me with the force of ten men, throwing me into the wooden crates in the corner. I staggered up just in time to see him lunging for Daphne. With supernatural speed, I threw myself at him again, driving him against the stone wall. He grunted with the impact but recovered quickly, wrapping his hand around my throat. His grip tightened and I started to choke.

"Father Clarence!" Daphne shouted. "Help us bind the demon!"

Henri sliced his other hand through the air and Daphne shrieked and staggered back as if she'd been backhanded. Darkness began to encroach on me as I lost the ability to breathe, but as my world began to slip away, I was dimly aware of another presence joining the fray. Another man stepped out from the top of the stairwell.

"Philippe!" Daphne called. "Oh, thank God. Philippe, the demon—he has Charlotte!"

Henri tipped his face up toward Philippe and grinned savagely. When he spoke his voice lost the low, aristocratic drawl and reverted to the raspy, guttural demon tone. "At last, you're here!" he hissed with glee. " Master ."