յօ 𝔪𝔬𝔫𝔱𝔥𝔰 𝔭𝔯𝔦𝔬𝔯~ 𝔑𝔬𝔱 𝔱𝔥𝔢 k𝔦𝔫𝔡 𝔬𝔣 𝔪𝔞𝔫 y𝔬𝔲 𝔪𝔢𝔢𝔱 𝔢v𝔢𝔯y𝔡𝔞y
Days passed and everything seemed normal. No vampire at her doorstep. No trees catching on fire for no apparent reason. Everyone was oblivious to what was stirring right before their eyes. It was almost as if they just didn't want to see it, almost as if they were choosing to ignore what didn't make sense, what simply didn't fit into the rules of their world.
Edmond had since removed her stitches, leaving a neat line of dots on either side of the wound. She was free that afternoon. Edmond and his team weren't in need of her for now and she had finished classes about an hour ago. So she found herself wandering around Paris again, fiddling thoughtfully with the pieces of her mother's fountain pen still in her pocket, every now and then, she would check that the piece of paper her mother had written her name on was still there.
At one point, she decided to order a a drink at a nearby bar. At the largest table at the end of the room, a group of men were playing blackjack rather noisily. She may have been manic or something because it really wasn't like her to want to socialise but nevertheless she walked up to them and asked if she could join.
"Do you have the money?" One of them challenged.
She took out a hundred euro bill. Ok. She was probably manic. One of the boys whistled in admiration and another pulled a chair over from one of the other tables for her to sit.
"The game's on." He grinned welcomingly. Blackjack was easy. It was all math, a question of probability.
She stopped counting cards and calculating probability though when their grins started turning into frowns as her money started piling. However, she hid her own malicious grin by pretending to sip on her drink (although she had finished it a while ago).
"May I play?"
All of them turned. A small man with a military style haircut stood holding out a fan of hundred euro bills, exposing the heavy metal rings around his fingers. The boys' eyes widened and no one made an objection when he sat across from Luna. His black gaze did not leave the cards. She swore she could see numbers, diamonds, hearts, spears, kings and queens flashing across his eyes. He was playing her game. Soon it was all between the both of them.
"That's it. I surrender." One of the boys stated, laying down his deck.
"Me too." Another said. And soon they all set their cards down in defeat, not wanting to lose anymore money to these crazy strangers.
"Yeah." Luna agreed. "I'm done. You can keep the money," she resigned, standing up, still retrieving the hundred euro bill she had initially put down.
"You're not finished." The stranger stated. His voice had an accent she couldn't seem to identify.
"The game didn't end."
"For me it did." Luna retorted coldly not liking his tone. And she walked away, ignoring the other clients' stares.
Checking her phone, she noticed the 23 voice mails all from Jeremy. She sighed. Maybe she hadn't made it clear enough. She pressed the button to change her voicemail.
"Hi Jeremy," she told her phone into the speaker and let the recording go on for about a minute before saying "No." loud and clear. That way if ever he would call again—and she was sure he would—he would hear her voicemail and think she had answered the phone. He would then give her his usual lecture and then he would hear 'no'. Maybe that would discourage him from calling her again...
After that she walked for about an hour, arriving at the Champs-Élysées. The sight of the lit up trees leading up to the Arc de Triomphe made her smile. She strolled along, letting the sounds of the city fly in the cold October breeze. It began to rain lightly and Luna wondered if it was her or just Paris being well you know Paris: its old rainy self.
Next to one of the trees, a young man with a guitar had set up a beach parasol that he was using as an umbrella and was singing 'Aux Champs Élysées'. Some people stopped to listen. A young couple even started dancing to it. Soon their lips joined with the Arc de Triomphe standing proudly in the background. Luna bit her lip repressing a snort of laughter. Kissing in the rain. What a cliché. Then, a chorus of honking broke out. The two lovers stopped and looked around to see what the commotion was about, apparently realizing they weren't alone in the 'capitale de l'amour'.
The windshield of a small car rolled down. An angry man's face appeared.
"Espèce d'enculé, va!" He shouted to the car in front with his raspy French accent. "Il y a priorité à droite!"
So much for the perfect kiss... she thought to herself. She glanced at the couple that had meanwhile drifted apart from each other while watching the incident. Between them, she spotted the man from the bar a few paces behind them. The man smiled at her and her own sarcastic smile disappeared as she discovered she was being watched. She turned away. It was getting late now and her feet were blistered. She knew a metro station not far where she wouldn't have to change lines to go home.
In the metro station, she heard her train before she saw it. She rushed down the metro stairs and once the doors clamped shut behind her, she gripped the bar and watched the empty station disappear leaving in its place the darkness of the metro tunnel.
Against the metro window, she glimpsed her own ghostly reflection staring back at her. However, behind her, the small man with cunning eyes and a shaved head smiled at her. She didn't dare turn around. Though she glanced at his hand on the bar below hers. His skin was papery brown. Each long spindly finger bore at least two heavy rings. He was definitely the same guy from the bar. This guy was obviously not trying to hide the fact he was stalking her. That could only mean he thought there was nothing she could do against him. She remembered what Edmond had told her. The police might be infiltrated.
At the next stop she decided to get off the train. Indeed, he followed her. She mingled with the thin crowd of people toward the exit and tried to calm herself down. If she was too nervous, the accelerated rhythm of her heart and the odor of sweat and adrenaline might excite her predator. Outside the crowd dispersed, she stuck to what seemed to be a group of friends joking among themselves. She followed them. And he followed her. They passed a grocery store and she entered. The store had cameras. He wouldn't dare harm her there would he? In front of cameras and clients?
Luna picked a cart, not to look suspicious patrolling a grocery store without one. And began filling it, barely even registering what products she chose. It didn't seem like he had followed her inside the store. Was he waiting outside?
An old lady was frowning at Luna's cart behind a pair of thick spectacles and Luna realized she was holding a bottle of shaving cream. Five more identical bottles occupied her cart. Other contents of her cart included beer, baby diapers and Honey O's. Indeed, the scene must have looked awfully weird. A girl that you'd wager no older than seventeen—people always thought she was way younger than she actually was— casually stocking up on shaving cream, beer and baby diapers like if it were part of her ordinary weekly shopping list. She swapped her cart with the one in the next isle that contained more regular stuff.
Her hands were shaking by now as she weighed her solutions. Her, a young woman living alone with no friends, no family to seek protection against an immortal being who probably had centuries of experience behind him. She didn't stand a chance. She couldn't hide out in the grocery store forever.
But she wasn't completely alone. She rummaged in her pocket and held the piece of paper with Edmond's phone number. She dialed the number.
Her lips were trembling. What would she say?
"Allô?" Edmond's voice answered, making her heart jolt in her chest.
"It's Luna Enwright. Is this a wrong time?"
She didn't know what she would do if he said yes. She couldn't just hang up.
"No. Are you alright?" He asked clearly picking up that something was wrong.
She took a deep breath, not wanting her voice to betray her panic.
"I think you might've been right about the overdose being an attempt on my life. I don't know... maybe this is just me being paranoid but there's this man that keeps following me. I'm afraid of going home." If it turned out in the end that she had gotten overly distressed about a random guy that smiled at her in the metro, that would be so embarrassing.
"Where are you?" His voice was tense. He didn't think she was crazy.
"In some grocery store, near Arts et Métiers."
"Are there other people there?"
She glanced around at the befuddled man wondering how his toilet paper, coffee and canned beans had been replaced with beer, Honey'Os, shaving cream and diapers. And the old lady who had become more interested in cat food than in Luna.
"Yes." She confirmed.
"Good. Stay within crowds. Don't walk on any street that is empty. Now, listen closely. You can take the line 11 to Châtelet. Etc." He gave her precise instructions on the streets that led to his place, all the while urging her to take a longer route if the metro station or the street was empty.
Edmond lived in the 5th arrondissent. The streets in the area were stone-paved in a way that made the sidewalk uneven. Her blistered feet rubbed uncomfortably against the sides of her shoes. She continued, suppressing a wince.
There were quite a few bars and restaurants open. Vintage suspended street lamps illuminated her way, giving her surroundings a yellowish gleam.
After a while it seemed like she was entering the dormant part of the neighborhood. The cheerful sounds of laughter and conversation from the restaurants faded progressively.
There was a man ahead of her. He was of average height though his shadow stretched like a long spectre on the wall, creeping and following its owner silently. Her shadow looked small and withered next to his. Now it was impossible to keep her heart rate under control. A third shadow loomed behind her, crawling and reeling closer and closer. She quickened her pace. Clinging almost desperately to the stranger's shadow ahead of her, before he turned the corner.
Edmond had explained that there was, on this street, a little alley to the right. "It's narrow and dark but you'll be safe," he had promised. In effect, although the street continued, there was a gap between two houses on the right. But she faltered. Was Henry right about Edmond? Was this a trap? How could a dark and narrow alley that looked like a dead end, protect her?
However, at the same instant, the sound of muffled footsteps resounded behind her and the stranger ahead of her vanished at the corner.
Whether Edmond was what he said he was or not, she was sure of at least one fact: that the person following her probably did not have good intentions. At that same instant, she stepped into the unlit alley.
Her eyes adapted to the dimness. To her left stood a sturdy brick wall, to her right a few small fenced gardens appeared in the gloominess. The brick wall had eight paned windows lined along it and streams of ivy adorned the facade. A single unlit suspended street lamp hung next to a wooden door. She gasped. A hand was on her shoulder.
"Luna."
His features were hidden in the shadows but she recognized him nonetheless. Edmond. He wasn't looking at her though. At the end of the alley where she had come from, a figure stood in the sickly yellow light. It did not illuminate his face but if it did, Luna was sure he would be smiling.
"Come." Edmond beckoned, as he turned around, leading her to the wooden door. Luna exhaled shakily, striding hurriedly beside Edmond.
Luna could make out the outline of two panels on dark wood. The transom was circular like half a mandala. The frame was of white marble and a brass knocker in the shape of a hand glinted in the moonlight. Edmond pushed the door open and let her enter before closing it behind her. It was so silent. Too silent for Paris.
In front of the entrance, a wooden staircase led to an unseen second floor. On the left, there was a small living room. A few chairs that looked to be from a different era were organized around an empty black fireplace. The walls were covered in green wallpaper and decorated with landscape paintings. A golden clock hung ticking over the fireplace. Edmond strode over to the window on the left side of the door. The wooden planks creaked underneath him. He peered outside then drew the velvet blue curtains over the window.
"Thank you." Luna voiced timidly.
"You're welcome. Would you like me to take your coat? I don't have a heating system. You may want to keep it."
"It's alright I don't mind." She shrugged then, bent down to remove her shoes. She tried to put up a neutral face as the blisters scrapped the sides of the shoes painfully.
She felt uncomfortable having practically invited herself in.
"So this is where you live?" She asked.
"Yes. I own other places but this is by far the least noisy in the city. Do you like it?"
"I like it. It's rare to find such a quiet place in Paris."
He smiled weakly though he seemed distracted, like worry was gnawing him from the inside. She hadn't been able to see his expression in the dark but she remembered him staring at her stalker.
"You know who he is," she realized. "The man that was following me," she specified. "And" she paused, "he's not really an ordinary man is he?"
"No, Luna. He's not exactly the kind of man you meet everyday. Or that you would want to meet at all." He added gravely.
"Who is he?"
"We vampires call him Osiris. Those old Egyptian tales that speak of immortality after death by preservation of the body all derive from legends of Osiris and his clan. He's known as one of the world's oldest vampires with my sire. There's a legend that about 4 000 years ago, before the invention of writing, he organized the first mass murders of shifters. He used the fear of his people as a weapon. Although, eventually his own clan decided they did not want him as their leader any longer. A vampire can not truly die. When we are starved, our body shuts down as if we were dead though it does not disintegrate. They locked him up in a sarcophagus and no one heard anything about him for centuries. At the beginning of the Middle Ages, someone awoke him, meaning they revived him with blood. He was first named Vampire Councilor of Egypt then Council Master. We trusted him because of his old age. He had this grand plan to eliminate shifters by accusing them of heresy. Once again using the population's fear. Then, during the 16th century, he disappeared again. Wether someone had managed to starve him or he had just come out of the public eye, we did not know. However, a group of rebels loyal to him felt it was their duty to finish his grand plan. They realized that shifters were more present in close-knit groups that continued marrying between each other. Most genocides during the 20th century were organized by what we call Osirisian vampires, using the fear a population had against certain ethnic groups."
"Was Hitler a vampire?"
"No. Just a very helpful anti-Semitic human... During that time, if they caught a shifter that wasn't considered part of the persecuted ethnic group, it was easy to execute them for other reasons. Nowadays, we don't know how many shifters are still alive, hiding."
She nodded, understanding why Edmond had deduced her overdose was probably a murder attempt But she frowned, details were missing.
"Why do so many vampires hate shifters?"
His eyes undilated making the silver definition of his irises more pronounced.
"We don't hate you, we're scared of you."
Scared? How could immortal beings be scared of defenseless people like her?
"This might sound too unrealistic to be the cause of so many deaths but it is said that shifters can end immortality."
The whole story sounded too unrealistic to Luna. But again, who ever thought that vampires existed in the first place?
"Let me show you. Have a seat." He gestured toward a brown chesterfield chair. She sank into it.
"Forgive me. I'm not much of a good host. I don't have any food to offer. My mortal guests usually ask for cigarettes, wine or coffee..." he grinned. "Though I'm guessing that's not your style. Can I get you some tea perhaps? I've only got herbal I'm afraid..."
"I'm fine with herbal tea."
She watched him swiftly climb the staircase at vampire speed.
Meanwhile she observed the golden framed paintings that decorated the walls. Trees swayed under a forever-still wind, leaves glinting in sunlight and fresh morning dew. The ticking of the clock was the only sign that time hadn't ceased. The creaking of the wooden steps averted her that Edmond was back. He handed her a small steaming teacup festooned with delicate blue cornflowers.
"I don't have any sugar." He apologized.
"Thanks. None needed."
He sat in the chair opposite. The tea didn't have much taste but she drank it gladly, her cold hands tingling as warmth flooded her body.
"There's a prophecy." he continued. He slid a worn piece of vellum onto the table in front of her. "Although there has been a fear of shifters way before the writing of the Bible, this is a page from the Old Testament of Joel. All copies talk of the blood moon prophecy. However, there are only two known samples of this very page that have a different version of Joel's prophecy. This was given to me by my sire. It seems to be one of the oldest recorded, translated from Greek to Latin. The newer versions don't include this extract."
She struggled to read the medieval handwriting.
Quod mortale est, immortalem ille potest transformare.
Sed, quod immortale est, mortalem alii potest transformare.
Ita quondam luna in sanguinem etiam fit, vitae caduca terminum vitarum sempiternarum possunt afferre.
Porta quae ignoratio et secreta disiungit, reserabitur.
Et illud eorum ultimum sanguis potabunt erit.
Luckily, Edmond translated it for her:
"One may make what is mortal, immortal
However, the other will make what is immortal, mortal
Hence, when the moon bleeds once more
Ephemeral life will be the end of eternal life
The gateway dividing ignorance from secrets will be unlocked
And it shall be the last blood they taste."
I translated the text into Latin myself so it probably isn't very accurate but I'm assuming you (my wonderful readers, those who survived the first boring chapters and long descriptions 🥲) aren't latin experts.
Ps: oh if you are. You are welcome to correct all the errors 😂
One call away from Charlie Puth.