For five months she had searched for Xavier, had organized patrols, and marshaled everything at her command to find him. Some days she found her confidence, but other days brought horrific images of Xavier, drowned in a river or murdered for spite.
Today the latter ruled. Catherine was sure that Xavier was as dead as Louis.
As she neared the house, she saw Maria standing in the front parlor. Even this innocent nun, too rigid in her ways but very caring, brought nothing but sorrow because she reminded her constantly of Xavier.
“Catherine, did you hear?” Maria asked.
“News about Xavier?” she looked up, hopeful.
Maria cast her eyes to the floor. “No, about Louis.”
“I saw it.”
“You were there?”
“Yes, and there’s little to tell. They marched him before everyone and unceremoniously whacked off his head after a couple of tries.”
“A couple of tries?”
“It took more than once to get through his thick neck.”
Maria winced and Catherine suddenly felt the need to tell Maria the true reason for her mood.
“I provoked Xavier. He lashed out at me and said things that I never expected to hear from him. Can you believe that he criticized Marcel? He even accused Marcel of murdering Michel. Xavier was the one who always understood and let me lead my life. When so many questioned my decision and thought that Marcel was too old, Xavier was quiet and supported my right to decide. But the night that he left he said awful things about Marcel.”
Maria backed away suddenly and straightened her skirt. “Maybe he had good reason.”
“What do you mean?”
“It’s not my place. I’m sorry.”
“Maria, what is it? All of you avoid me whenever I mention the man I intend to marry. This will never do. Why do you recoil? Why does everyone shy away?”
“I hate to be the one, it’s not my place—”
“What? Why do you despise him?”
“Catherine, forgive me, but did you ever suspect that he had ulterior motives?”
“What are you trying to say?”
“We think—some think—or at least I suspect...that...this medicine he gives you has ill effects. I think that you love him because he’s so forceful toward you.”
“Maria, I don’t mean to laugh, but what you think is insane.”
Maria smiled weakly. “Silly balderdash, I suppose.” She left the room abruptly. Catherine worried that she had offended her, but then she was the one who should be offended. A potion, indeed. Was everyone going mad? She pushed herself out of the chair and bustled to her office, where the paperwork had piled up over the last few months. Hoping to clear her head, she dove into the latest batch of mail.
The first letter, however, brought back the sadness. She ripped it open:
Dear Catherine,
Just a quick note to tell you that the provisions you requested should arrive within the month. In London we hear much news about the revolution but it is hard to know what is truth. I rely on your letters to tell me what really occurs. They actually think that the French will execute Louis! I hope that you have found Xavier by now. I, of course, watch for him to arrive in London but doubt that I will see him here. I must tell you, Catherine, that I miss all of you. I think of Michel often. It is difficult to believe that I will never again speak with him, who was a brother to me, too. As for returning to Paris, I appreciate your request and only wish that I could. There are reasons that keep me away that have nothing to do with the revolution. Perhaps some day I will have the bravery to convey to you all that I feel. Until then, know that you, too, are in my thoughts each day, more than Michel or Xavier, I miss you. Yours faithfully, Jérémie
Catherine dropped the letter to her desk. She missed Jérémie as much as he missed her. She longed for Xavier, her rock, and Marcel, whom she believed to be her shield from the world, but Jérémie had always been a true and loyal friend. She had urged him in every letter to return to Paris, but he always declined. He had some personal problem that kept him away and absolutely refused to tell her about it. How strange.
21 January 1793
AS SHE SAT at her desk, Catherine reread Jérémie’s letter. She was about to throw it in a drawer, forcing herself to forget the sorrow, when someone knocked on the door.
“Enter.” “Madame, a visitor,” said one of her guards as he bowed. “Who is it?” she asked, but before the man answered she saw the black cape swish beside him.
Thomas came through the door with a smile and his arms extended. They hugged, though Catherine detected a slight slump in Thomas’s usually erect posture. She herself was not sure how to feel. She had believed that a mob attacked Xavier when she went pleading with Thomas for help a year ago. His rebuke and Xavier’s comments since then had given her other ideas about what may have happened to her brother. Catherine withdrew and managed a smile. Jérémie was in London sending letters that made her sad, Xavier was gone and possibly dead, and Marcel refused to come to Paris. Which left only Thomas, who had forsaken her and possibly injured her brother. But he had returned. That was at least something.
“Thomas, you came back.”
“I’m sorry for the way that I treated you. I know that you came to me for help and I rebuffed you. Can you forgive me? There were reasons, not the best, that made me cold to you. I was wrong and come for your forgiveness. And perhaps your help.”
“I imagine based on Xavier’s mood after you stopped seeing each other that it had something to do with your relationship.” She needed to ease into the real conversation she needed to have with him without scaring him away first. “Whatever it was, I’m glad that you have returned. I don’t know how much you know, but Xavier’s gone and I can’t find him. I’ve searched everywhere I know to search.”
Thomas hung his head and shook it slowly. When he looked at her she saw his tears, like streaks of blood on his cheeks.
“So you know?”
“I know that he left the house,” Thomas said. “I, too, have looked throughout Paris for him to no avail. I’m not sure what brought me here tonight. Perhaps it was the hope that together we could locate him.” Thomas had already controlled the tears. Much like herself, Thomas had maintained decorum at all costs though she guessed it was as difficult for him as for her.
“I see that you got over your failed courtship of him,” Catherine tested.
He stood up and paced frantically, and again his eyes turned red. He made no attempt to hide his tears, and his body language answered Catherine’s inquiry. He was still passionately in love.
“It’s too painful to talk about what led to our fight, but I have never stopped loving your brother. My passion for him is as strong as the day I first came to you for help. Suffice it to say that I didn’t follow your advice closely enough. I pushed him too quickly.”
“Don’t relive these memories. I wanted only to know your intentions.”
“My intentions haven’t changed.” Thomas returned to her and knelt, taking her hand and holding it firmly in his cool grip. She resisted pulling it away. “I love him more than you can possibly imagine and I need your help. Are you hiding him from me? Where is he?”
“I only wish I knew. I have told you everything.” Catherine looked away, about to cry and embarrassed. “I have already looked,” she whispered. “And of course we can combine our efforts, but I’m afraid—” She couldn’t finish the thought.
“No, I won’t give up,” Thomas said. “He’s somewhere in Paris and all we need do is combine our efforts to find him.”
While she sat in misery, Thomas became energized and paced about the room. He asked her a thousand questions about Xavier’s habits, going clear back to childhood. He kept striding back and forth as he quizzed her until he found a subject they had not yet covered. Catherine had a hard time concentrating on anything he said, knowing that they still had a very difficult conversation ahead of them.
“Catherine, he told me that he always fled to the church when distraught, from an early age. As a priest, he still hid from the world in his religion.”
Catherine nodded. “As a youth he went to Notre Dame or the chapel here. But we looked there. Besides, he hated Notre Dame after he entered the clergy.”
“Once a priest, he primarily went to his own church. He mentioned praying for hours in his sanctuary.”
“We’ve gone there a million times, and Denys and the parishioners watched for him at the church until a mob burned it to the ground.”
“Anne, then,” Thomas practically shouted. “All of this time we ignored Anne.”
“I looked for her, and she’s as scarce as Xavier. Do you think I’m dense? Xavier had few friends, and she’s the only one missing. I found her shortly after he disappeared and she wasn’t interested in talking. It was as if she stopped caring about him altogether,” Catherine replied sadly. “I left it at that until the next time, when it hit me that she was probably lying. By then, she had disappeared.”
“How could I have missed this?” Thomas said. “I went to see her, too, and she rushed around her flat, closing the business and fleeing. She hardly batted an eye when I asked about Xavier, and I left feeling sad because she had claimed to be his close friend. Oh, how could I have been so blind?”
“You sound delusional,” Catherine said with alarm. Had Thomas lost his mind?
“Listen to me. It’s the only logical possibility. When something distresses Xavier he flees to religion, not the church. He was searching for answers to life and happened to go to Catholic institutions only because that’s what he knew. But, as a priest, and when he began questioning the theology they forced on him, he talked to Anne, who wanted to protect Xavier and, probably at his request, kept us away from him.”
Catherine nodded, understanding. “That sounds marvelous. I’ve wondered the same thing. But it gets us no closer to finding either one of them.”
“She gives us a different focus. Anne isn’t from the world in which you, Xavier, or I exist. She’s from a people who can disappear into the shadows and live secret lives in the midst of public ones. She knows an underworld that we can’t fathom, and her religion, those old world charms and spells, strengthen her abilities tenfold.”
Catherine was convinced. Maybe Xavier was alive. Before returning to practical matters, however, she had to address the one thing that had distracted her since Thomas arrived, and even before that. She had to know the truth about what happened between Xavier and Thomas.
“Thomas, just one thing. Sit down, please.”
“Yes?” Thomas took a seat opposite her.
“Should Xavier see you first?”
Thomas looked bewildered. “Is this about my vampirism?” he asked.
“I suppose that’s part of it. I’m sure that it is. I still worry that Xavier won’t be able to cope with it. What if we get through this, find him, convince him to return, and then you explain to him your undead nature? I’m not sure he can withstand it.”
“I’d never just tell him without some sort of context,” Thomas said with obvious hurt.
“I know that. My question was about something else and I’ve danced around it for fear of offending you. I want to know what happened between you two. Long before he ran away you stopped calling on him. He was devastated and missed you terribly. He never spoke ill of you and yet he also refused to talk about you. He insisted that he was attacked in the streets but, well, I’ve wondered of late if it wasn’t you who attacked my brother.” There, she had said it. With it in the open, her blood boiled and she prepared the speech she had wanted to give this man since her suspicions began.
Thomas looked at her without saying a word. The sadness that had greeted her returned. Gone was the excitement of looking for Xavier. “Did he say something to you?” he asked.
“No, never. I only heard a whisper of something as he fell asleep one night talking to himself.”
“I knew he’d keep quiet about it,” Thomas began.
Catherine had never seen him this meek.
“I predicted that he wouldn’t admit to anyone that I’d done it. I don’t expect forgiveness, from you or him. It sounds trite to explain that I had no idea what my strength might do or that I was lost in the moment, a moment of passionate anger, because none of that undoes the harm.” Catherine could feel her face redden with anger as he spoke. Thomas ran his hand across a table. “We were arguing, again. That wasn’t uncommon in those last few nights as I pressed him to embrace his true feelings and come to me. Mind you, I never said a word about vampirism, only that I loved him, that he loved me, and that we should stay together.”
Thomas stared at the floor. “He was confused by his faith. The Church had a stranglehold on Xavier. He could forgive anyone else any transgression and even condemned the church when it outcast others, but he placed the highest standards on himself. Our relationship caused him to doubt that for the first time. He was moving away from it, but my anger—” Thomas rubbed his face and ran his hand through his hair. He finally looked into Catherine’s eyes through his crimson tears. “He was afraid of eternal damnation. I know that he was honestly frightened, but I couldn’t contain my anger anymore. The teasing, the innuendo, the pretend relationship disguised as friendship...I pleaded with him but he wouldn’t give in to our relationship, and then we fought and I hit him. In life, it was no more than a slap, but in death my strength was enough to break his bones and ruin what we had. I have told only my mentor, Anthony, and in these long months I came to pretend that I could redeem all that I’d wrought if only I found him. You’ve pointed out the obvious, that it’s much more complicated. I’m evil. I’ll never forgive myself.”
Catherine stood and stomped to where Thomas sat, hovering inches above him. “I don’t doubt your sincerity, but you need to know one thing. I’ve lost everything. Everything. A woman with nothing to live for is a dangerous thing. I know where you live. I know more about you than you ever intended for me to learn. If I find out that you did anything else, or if we find him and you ever harm him again, I’ll do everything in my power against you. If we get so lucky as to see him again, he will be all I live for. That slight hope is the only thing that has kept me going. Make no mistake Thomas, you may mess with the rest of the world and use it as your toy. But I will destroy you. Don’t think that Marcel hasn’t hinted about a thing or two regarding your nature, and your vulnerability.”