Blood red eyes roamed the wreckage until he found what he was looking for.
There, laying beside the red velvet curtain draped innocuously at stage right was the body of the Vampire who had stood at Hugo
’
s side.
Uncaring that he limped, the Angel strode over to the stairs that lead to the creature. He did not care that the Chosen watched him with fear and loathing. Their emotions flowed over and around him, but he held his in check. They would feel nothing from him.
His footsteps rang in the silence as he climbed the steps. Notus
’
sandaled feet scuffed behind him in an attempt to keep up. Both halted at the top as they stared down at the man who stood second to the Master of France. It was Notus
’
sharp intake of breath that alerted the others to follow until they all stood in a horseshoe around the creature.
There, laying face up on the varnished wood, the Vampire growled and hissed, exhibiting its dual fanged teeth for the Chosen to witness. Hilde of Germany gasped at the sight. It was not just because of the teeth, but also at the reason why Hugo
’
s second lay trapped on the floor. The creature
’
s limbs had been removed as if bitten or chewed off, leaving oozing stumps.
“
What the hell did you do to Degare?
”
demanded Hugo as he pushed through the throng; only to come up short at the sight of the one he had believed could be Master after him.
Brown eyes widened at the sight of the man he once trusted with the operations and management of the Chosen of France
.
Ignoring the accusation, the Angel refused to look up from the writhing Vampire. He could feel the hatred for this creature tightening his jaw. His hands attempted to mimic the movement but only weakly clenched at his sides.
“
This is what the Chosen are up against.
”
The Angel
’
s whisper carried to the back of the theatre.
“
This is what is killing the Chosen.
”
“
What are you saying
l
’
Ange
?
”
sneered Hugo, disbelieving his own eyes.
“
This is a Vampire, Hugo,
”
replied Fernando, pushing to stand next to the Angel, followed by Bridget. The smug tones were not lost on all present.
“
You were duped by a Vampire, just as we were.
”
Hugo snorted.
“
Answer this ridiculous accusation, Degare, and I will ensure you have a quick release.
”
The Vampire flicked his gaze from the Master of France to the Angel and back and began to laugh.
“
It is the Vampires who are supreme and we will make a wasteland with your corpses.
”
“
But why? Why do this?
”
asked Jorge, confusion lighting his fair features.
The laugh came again, this time ending with coughing.
“
You call yourselves Chosen, but you do not know for what or why.
Vous êtes dépassés. Vous êtes des imbéciles. Les Vampires vont dominer et toute l'humanité sera à nos pieds.
You cannot save them or yourselves.
”
“
You are wrong.
”
The finality of the Angel
’
s conviction snapped the Vampire
’
s gaze back to him.
“
Vampires have confused the Chosen for centuries, fooling them into forgetting their humanity, but no longer. Now they will remember what you have done to them and they will regain what they lost.
”
Turning to Notus, the Angel sent,
Now. Do it now.
The monk took a deep shuddering breath at what he was asked to do, but that, at least, had been part of their plan. It was difficult to see one of the kind that had captured and drained Notus dry lying there helpless. No matter what had happened to Notus, he still felt the need to help, to heal, to save this creature, but underneath it was the anger and humiliation for what he had endured.
Taking the silver flask from between his robes, he uncorked it.
“
You do not believe that it was Vampires, not Chosen, that is behind the genocide,
”
said the Angel, his voice so low that the others had to strain to hear.
“
If his words do not convince, and the teeth not convince, then let this imprint on your mind, for Chosen do not burn under the Cross nor when blessed with Holy Water.
”
Comprehension widened the Vampires eyes until they were ringed with white.
“
No! No! Please, no!
”
He writhed on the ground in an attempt to move away from the monk.
Notus hesitated and glanced up as his son. He could not believe what he was asked to do, but the need to do so filled him with conflicting horror and relief.
With his free hand Father Paul Notus invoked the Cross,
“
In nomine Patris, et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti,
”
while he upturned the contents of the flask over the head and torso of the creature before him.
The Vampire began his screams of pain at the first stroke of the Cross and well before the first droplets of Holy Water fell upon his body. As the liquid impacted, the creatures
’
panicked screams escalated with the tendrils of smoke ascending from his body. It was quick and it was gruesome as the Holy Water ate through the Vampire like hydrochloric acid on paper. Flesh bubbled and ignited, burning and liquefying, searing the skin from his body only to eat deeper into the muscle and bones. The gurgling cry was cut off as the Holy Water made quick work of the skull, adding its own bloody mess to stain the wooden floor. It was a surprise to the Chosen, forcing them to take a step back, when the remains ignited to leave only black powder on the stage.
Silence thundered down. Notus was horrified at the reaction his precious God blessed water had created, but there was no dispute now. Vampires were as real as the Chosen, and as different as day was to night.
Slowly all eyes descended upon the Angel, who could not tear his gaze away from the remains.
“
Crediamo. Caro dio nel cielo, crediamo,
”
gasped Alfonsina. She halted in the middle of crossing herself, eyes wide. She found Notus
’
sad hazel and dropped to her knees.
“
Per favore, padre.
”
“
Sì, la mia figlia,
”
replied Notus, tears filling his eyes. Carefully, so as not to step on the blackened smudge, the monk came to stand before the Mistress of Italy. Laying one hand upon her head, he made the sign of the Cross once more with the other,
“
In nomine Patris, et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti.
”
The Angel turned away from the display and the tears that ran down the Mistress
’
face. There could no longer be any doubt about the existence of Vampires. Now it was up to the Grand Council to decide what to do.
Carefully the Angel made is way down the steps, intending to leave the Council to their heavy responsibility. He halted as Hugo called out.
“
L
’
Ange
, you have proven your point and you have proven mine.
”
Turning, the Angel faced the Master of France.
“
What are you talking about, Hugo?
”
asked Bridget, worry widening her blue eyes.
“
L
’
Ange
is clearly not Chosen,
”
sneered France
’
s Master. The others murmured their surprise at the accusation, but the evidence could not be denied. Too many irregularities through the centuries set the Angel apart no matter where he and Notus travelled to, leaving the question opened.
“
If
l
’
Ange
is Chosen,
”
continued Hugo,
“
then it is clear he must be Destroyed.
”
The murmurs became shouts of protest mingled with agreement. Not all were friends of the Angel no matter their feelings for his Chooser.
The Angel looked up at the Chosen, his face blank of all emotion. It was a gamble he took when he summoned the white-faced demons and he could feel Fernando and Bridget
’
s panic about what they may be forced to declare.
“
Before any sentence is carried against the Angel,
”
shouted Fernando over the din,
“
Let his Master and Mistress ask him this: What are you?
”
If he had not been expecting this from his friend, the Angel would have declared himself a fool. He had spent too much time with the Noble and been asked that same question over and over through the ages. Never before stating that he was Chosen was enough to dissuade the speculations. Now he knew he could not stand here before the Grand Council and claim to be one of theirs. Again, he was outcast, different, set apart.
Straightening his stance, he pulled on the glamour that had always fit him and felt so right. Fear percolated through the Chosen and he knew now how to answer. Allowing his burning gaze to slide from one to the next, he settled onto Notus for it was he who deserved the truth more than the others.
“
I am the Angel of Death.
”
F
ather Paul Notus carefully turned over the vinyl long playing album, gently blew the minute particles of dust from the other side and placed it back down onto the turntable. It was his favourite Christmas album, a collection of crooners from the early part of the last century whose voices plucked warmth into his body with each note. It was a Christmas present from the boy when the album was first released decades ago. Notus played it every year and though the vinyl was beginning to wear, creating static to mix with the songs, still he played it.
Checking the needle for fuzz, he placed it down onto the large black disk. Expectations of
Frosty the Snowman
sung by Sinatra made him smile. First the silence, then the scratching that picked up in volume until finally the smooth voice of the long dead singer mingled with the static, marking that all continued to be well with his antique turn table.