Thomas nodded his head without flinching or apparent anger. “I deserve far worse. I can only prove it to you through my actions now.”
Strange, that Catherine did not despise him for hurting Xavier. She believed Thomas. His admission came with love. And she had made her point. He seemed to understand that Marcel had given her the secret to getting rid of him: fire. The only thing that had kept her from doing it already was the knowledge that Xavier would never allow it. Xavier. There he was again in her thoughts. For him, she had to trust Thomas and get his help. She had to learn again to befriend him, all for Xavier.
“Thank you,” Catherine said softly. “I don’t pretend to understand how you could harm him. I suppose I’m too worried about him to be angry right now. So please, help me find him.”
26 March 1793
YET ANOTHER EVENING and they gathered at the Saint-Laurent home, a routine that Thomas had established with Catherine in order to search for Xavier because, despite their best efforts, the abbé was still missing. Thomas vacillated between despair and hope, one minute thinking that his beloved had died in the Paris underground and the next believing that he was hiding with Anne.
The salon guard escorted Thomas and Anthony into Catherine’s office and went off to get her. As he did tonight, Anthony had joined the search frequently since Catherine and Thomas’s reunion in January. Thomas had hesitated to introduce Anthony to Catherine but decided that they needed an objective point of view. Thomas first believed that Anthony agreed to assist them to watch over Thomas, but gradually Thomas came to know that Anthony stayed in Paris to help Thomas because he loved him, nothing more, despite his hatred for the revolution and the French. Catherine expressed her surprise that Thomas had never mentioned a mentor and held her distance from Anthony for the first month.
“How many vampires can I handle at once?” she had finally asked as they walked through Paris one night.
“You need one to search for your brother, and one to control the other,” Anthony had answered, only half-kidding. From that moment, Catherine had taken to Anthony.
“I trust him more than you,” she had told Thomas.
“As well you should.”
Catherine and Thomas got along again, though he detected a slight reserve and continued mistrust. He deserved much worse and could only hope that they would find Xavier and prove that he had not done anything else to his love.
Since that meeting, Thomas searched for Xavier and did little else, vowing not to stop until they had found him. He only fed when absolutely necessary, forsaking his vampiric hunger and even most of his nature because this holy quest consumed him. Indeed, Catherine, Anthony, Maria, and Thomas worked together to locate their missing loved one.
When Catherine turned the corner, Thomas noted that she had lost the spring in her step. She meekly limped behind her desk without a greeting, then looked through darkened eyes at Thomas.
“Six months,” Catherine said sadly.
“I’m sorry?” Thomas said.
“Six months. He’s been gone for six months.”
“I know,” was all that Thomas could think to say.
“Is it worth it anymore?” Catherine asked.
“Are you giving up?” Thomas asked. “It’s too soon. Until we know positively one way or another.”
“You’ve never lost two brothers. You can’t understand. Michel was furious with me about Marcel when he died, and Xavier said awful things, too.”
“So brooding will help?”
He picked up Catherine’s coat and pushed her toward the door.
The cold March air made it hard to move through Paris, but Thomas and Anthony always assisted her if needed. He wrapped the garment around her without a protest. She had done this before. She would enter the room in despair but would work her way out of it as they searched. Anthony took control, too, and grabbed Catherine’s hand and pulled her outside. As they approached the exit, Maria suddenly rounded the corner. She scowled at Thomas as she fell in line.
She was like a wildcat, the way she waited for them in the hallway and pounced upon them when they went to leave. No one ever invited her. Neither Anthony nor Thomas wanted anything to do with her, and Catherine had explained that she left Maria out of their plans because of the tension. Yet, at the same time, Thomas reminded himself of how much this woman meant to Xavier, and her devotion to him matched the will of the others.
Thomas reacted to each evening’s search in complete contrast to Catherine. Where she began morose and in despair but gained steam through the night, he became more and more pessimistic and depressed, wondering if perhaps Xavier really was gone forever. When the night ended again with no sign of him, Thomas quietly wept himself to sleep for the millionth time.
8 June 1793
CATHERINE WALKED OUT the door with Anthony and Thomas, embarrassed that she had done it again. The vampires arrived at dusk to search Paris, Thomas with exciting news that he had located another of Xavier’s old friends, Denys Girard, by simply passing him in the street. He had easily enlisted Denys in their hunt. But despite Thomas’s enthusiasm, Catherine greeted this pessimistically.
He ignored her, ushered her out the door, and she regained hope after a couple hours. Thus the embarrassment. She had put her two friends—about the only two she had left in Paris—through these awkward scenes. She especially hated that her moods made her seem to be a swooning, overwrought woman.
Catherine also came out of her melancholy moods because of Thomas. As she became more vigilant and able to focus on their search, the vampire became angrier. This, too, occurred every night, but of late his mood became darker and he threatened people on the street for minor offenses. Catherine had witnessed Thomas’s anger for the first time this month. It made him volatile, with an air of menace toward even the most innocent passersby. She better understood how he could have lashed out at her brother. Yet she trusted that he had reformed himself when it came to Xavier. Her instincts told her that he had changed in that regard. Or perhaps she trusted Anthony, because this vampire knew even more about Thomas and seemed to control him. Last of all, she had confidence that with Marcel’s help she could dispatch him to protect her brother if needed.
They plodded along silently, near an open market where people still sold their goods, the hour being dark enough to awaken Thomas and Anthony but bright enough to continue trading.
A few feet ahead, Thomas turned down a narrow alley. He often walked in front, leading the way and claiming that he watched out for Catherine. Anthony stayed with her, engaging in conversation and soothing her nerves.
Catherine jumped with alarm when she and Anthony followed Thomas around the corner. She glimpsed it for but a second before Anthony shot in front of her and blocked her view. Thomas had some elderly man by the neck, suspending him three feet in the air. Catherine heard Anthony scold Thomas as the vampire released the man and tossed him toward Catherine.
She helped him to his feet, his eyes wild with fear and he tripped again trying to flee.
“The Devil, Madame, in Paris. You should run.” He tried to yank Catherine along but abandoned her when she resisted.
“Because he thought you foolish for looking for a voodoo priestess and a Catholic clergyman?” Anthony yelled at Thomas as Catherine watched from a safe distance. “What did you expect? You planned to alter your search tonight by asking everyone you passed if they have seen a black woman and an aristocratic abbé hiding in Paris? Have you gone completely mad?”
“He could have answered without laughing.”
“Thomas, listen to yourself.”
“We’re running out of solutions,” Thomas answered.
Anthony started to shout but caught himself, pulled at his hair, walked in a circle, and returned to Thomas.
“You knew that this was a possibility, Thomas. The reality is that you may never find him.” These words stung even Catherine, who let out a slight cry. Anthony grabbed Thomas’s hand. “Both of you want Xavier, but you can’t get angry about it. Strangling old men solves nothing. We’ve not found Anne, either, and you agreed that this was a positive sign.”
Anthony pulled Thomas toward him by the shoulder, then took hold of Catherine with his free arm.
“It frustrates me,” Thomas whispered. “How can I control my emotions? I wasn’t going to kill him, even in my rage I only wanted to frighten the old man.”
“That doesn’t make it correct,” Anthony answered.
“This search is an impossible task,” Catherine said to change the subject. “We can only help each other.”
“It depresses me.” Thomas lowered his head and looked at the ground. “I fear the worst.”
“Madame, Madame!” Someone bellowed at Catherine as they turned onto Rue St. Denis. The man was completely red and out of breath when he caught them and bent over. When he looked up, Catherine recognized Denys, with a wild expression in his eyes.
“Madame, may I speak with you?” he asked.
“What is it?” Catherine’s heart pounded. Denys did not speak and instead looked over her shoulder at the vampires.
“Gentlemen, will you excuse us?” she asked.
“Of course,” Anthony said. But Anthony had to guide Thomas forcibly toward the Saint-Laurent home. Thomas glanced behind them a number of times the entire way, perhaps trying to see Catherine’s reaction. Catherine maintained composure as Denys watched until the two men were out of sight.
“It’s Xavier,” Denys said grimly.
“Dear God. Is he dead? What is it?”
“I think it best that you see for yourself.”
With that, Denys pulled her toward the river, briskly and in silence.
Catherine wanted to run but that would call too much attention to them. She chafed at their progress, thinking she also wanted to slap Denys for the mystery.
8 June 1793
DENYS SLOWED AS they neared the Seine, almost on the outskirts of Paris. He glanced around constantly with his knife drawn in these unfriendly parts. Catherine hardly cared about her safety, however, for she was too nervous about Xavier.
The night darkened away from the city, and the path muddied. They picked their way around garbage, passing a few dirty creatures— those who cared nothing for any government. Even the authorities feared to venture here, where anarchy ruled. Thankfully, Denys held the criminals at bay with his large and imposing figure. Then, quite abruptly, as if someone had drawn a warning line in the dirt that no one dared cross, all signs of life ceased near a bridge, underneath which burned a bright fire. Goose bumps spread across Catherine’s arms as she searched the shadows, for what she didn’t know. She squealed and jumped when some man shouted at them.
“I wouldn’t be going there if I was you,” he said. “That there knife won’t stop her.” Denys scowled and kept going.
“She’ll get you, and you won’t be the first to suffer her witchcraft. That one comes from the devil,” the man shouted after them. He continued screaming as Denys cautiously moved forward. Closer to the bridge, Catherine noticed two people hovering over the fire and talking, laughing even. Then Denys stopped.
“I don’t know what to say, whether this is good or bad. You’d best go alone.”
Catherine, her self-assurance waning, hesitated after a couple of steps and looked back at Denys, who still protected her though he went no farther. She turned back toward the bridge, slowly, fearfully, attempting to rationally convince herself to disregard the warnings from a deranged tramp, but the blackness surrounding her tricked her into trepidation. She heard every crunch of a branch and squish of the mud as she moved along, toward the only source of light: the fire beneath the bridge. She jumped at a crackle from the fire.
Closer to the bridge, Catherine saw that the two figures were cooking something over the fire. The contented scene relaxed her enough to finally recognize their mannerisms. She involuntarily cried out and lurched into a run. Was it really who she thought?
“I warned you, I even showed you my powers, and still one of you dares—”
Anne stopped mid-sentence and stood still. In a split second, Xavier wrapped Catherine in his arms as she wept uncontrollably. Her body convulsed, she could not hold him tightly enough, afraid he might disappear if she let go.
“Xavier,” she said, “Xavier...Xavier.”
He, too, held tightly, then patted her head in comfort. Overwrought, Catherine leaned against him when he finally moved them toward a log to sit.
Anne and Xavier had apparently lived under this bridge for some time. They had even decorated the walls and created furniture out of rocks and logs. The large fire illuminated the area with safety and warmth. When Catherine at last pulled away from Xavier, he smiled meekly through teary eyes.
Anne giggled from the other side of the fire. “We’ve been expecting one of you for some time.”
“I’ve been looking everywhere.”
“I’m sorry for not coming to you, or at least not sending word. There are a number of reasons, but suffice it to say that I needed to be away for a while. And I needed you to discover me instead of my begging to come back.”
He sounded like the old Xavier: soothing, self-assured, taking control emotionally and placating her anxiety. He was also sober.
“You’ve been here all along?” Catherine asked.
“No,” Xavier answered. “We’ve been throughout Paris, here, there, everywhere, and even into the countryside. The night that I left, I went to find Anne. She was leaving Paris, ready to meander for a time and tired of the laundress façade, so she allowed me to come along. She saved me.”
Anne laughed again. “My little abbé saved himself. He did all the work. I just prodded him along.”
“What have you been doing?” Xavier asked.
Catherine managed a laugh of her own, and started crying again. “Looking for you, you dear, foolish man,” she answered.