Chapter 11: la nuit de Paris
Paris, France 1925
D felt the cold presence while it was still a long way off. He stiffened, recognizing the otherworldly aura for what it was, and wondered if he ought to change his course. At a loss, he continued walking forward along the busy avenue. The cold November wind tugged at the tails of his coat. He felt mildly annoyed with the people bustling around him. Of course they didn't realize the danger that was right in their midst. They were completely oblivious; they always were. And then he felt angry that the creature was out here in the open, out here where people were constantly in motion, here on the street in the heart of the city.
D raised his eyes and scanned the dimly-lit street ahead of him. He had no problem recognizing the dark form that moved just a little more smoothly than the rest of the pedestrians. The graceful stranger was well-dressed, and even from such a considerable distance D could see that its face was unnaturally pale… for a human, but of course, a human it was not.
What was a vampire doing strolling about the streets of Paris so comfortably, as if he were right at home? D smoldered with animosity.
The elegant, pale-faced figure drew closer, seeming to glide over the ground. When he was about a block away he picked up his head suddenly, and D knew that his own presence had been recognized by the stranger. The vampire immediately locked eyes with D, and smiled knowingly at him. The unspoken message was clear enough: Good evening, my brother.
D felt simultaneously insulted and ashamed. Apparently this evil creature walked as freely and inconspicuously among the humans as D himself, and D was distinctly uncomfortable with that fact. Futilely he wished it were daytime, so that the creature would be banished from the street. Although he himself had been a part of human society for barely a decade, D felt strongly protective of any and all people he came into contact with. Human society was his exclusive territory now, and he didn't want any vampires to intrude upon it. As the vampire approached him, he winked one of his ruby-like eyes, and muttered "happy hunting."
"You're so naïve, it's baffling," grumbled D's hand. D had traced Samantha as far as Paris, but her trail disappeared in the city. He had been searching the streets for four days. Now he was back in his hotel room, holding a pen in his right hand and attempting to write an encouraging note to Geoffrey, even though there was still no sign of Samantha.
"I mean, you were actually surprised to find vampires existing cozily here in the city!" The hand said, exasperated. Idly D wondered if he could learn to write with his left hand- maybe then it would cease its commentary while he was trying to put words together.
"You actually thought they all lived in castles!" accused the hand, as if mocking a child.
D sighed slightly. "I lived in London for nine years and never saw one," he reasoned quietly.
"Hah! You mean you lived in that tiny closet in London for nine years," the demon scoffed. "You never once went out on the town at night, no matter how I tried to persuade you. If you hadn't been in bed at eight like an old man every night, you probably would have found hordes of vampires right there in London. But no, you had to come all the way over here to get angry about Parisian vampires. I'm still completely shocked, shocked beyond words-"
"I wish," D grunted, but the demon ignored him.
"-at your reaction to the fellow in the street tonight. I thought you were about to tear his head off- right in front of all those people! Getting so emotional was totally uncalled for."
D stared at the blank piece of paper in front of him.
"He thought I was one of them," D said softly. Although he didn't feel like discussing it with his possessed hand, being mistaken for a vampire had stung a lot worse than D would have expected. Was his human side invisible to blood-colored eyes?
"Aw, well, don't take it so hard," the hand said, this time in a grudgingly sympathetic tone. "After all, heh, humans think you're human, and really all that matters in the end is what you think of yourself, right?"
D didn't answer.
Two weeks passed, and the weather got progressively worse. D had familiarized himself with the city, and used every method he could think of to track down information, but it was to no avail. Samantha had vanished into the city like a drop of water into a lake. The city was alive with art and literature and romance- artists and poets gathered there like flies to honey, and there was no city on earth quite as spectacular. Alcohol and ideas flowed freely. It was a city of fashion, beauty, and extravagance. It was a city of seduction. And it was infested with vampires. D found it all very depressing, but he knew instinctively that Paris was irresistibly appealing to a girl like Samantha.
D stood at the window of his fourth-floor hotel room, gazing out impassively over the lights of the city. Music drifted up from restaurants and bars in the street below. Somewhere a car horn blared, and someone cussed drunkenly in French. She was out there somewhere, he was certain of it. Maybe tonight, he would find her.
D stiffened as he became aware of an evil aura somewhere below him- a vampire, though not a very strong one, was looking up at him from across the street. The young vampire was holding a camera. Smiling, he raised it and took a picture of D at his window. D frowned at him, perplexed. "Why did you do that?" he asked quietly, knowing that the vampire would be able to hear him above the noise of the city.
The young vampire chuckled. "C'est pour saisir la nuit de Paris," he replied in a voice as soft as D's. "To seize the Paris night."
"Looks like another loony vampire poet," muttered the demon. "Interesting accent, though. Hungarian, maybe?"
The vampire was staring up at D, still smiling. "May I speak with you, monsieur?" he asked. D thought about it for half a minute, and nodded.
Half an hour later, D and the young vampire were walking side-by-side through the deserted Parc Monceau. The night was cold and overcast, but neither of them seemed to mind. For a long while neither spoke.
"Don't you love the night, monsieur?" the vampire whispered at last. D made no reply. The vampire gazed dreamily into the shadows. "'C'est pour saisir la beauté des rues, des jardins, dans la pluie et le brouillard…it isbecause I love the beauty of these roads and parks at night, in the rain and mist… I wanted to become a vampire because the night is so beautiful. The darkness suggests rather than shows… and the night liberates the forces within us that during the day are dominated by reason." He smiled, and D couldn't help but notice how very nearly human the expression seemed.
"Who are you?" D asked gruffly.
"Call me Brassai," the vampire said. "I am from Brasso, Transylvania. I take photographs of the night."
D was far from surprised. "Transylvania," D said, remembering Samantha's reaction. "Isn't that Romania now?"
The vampire shrugged, and the gesture served as further evidence that he had been human until quite recently. "Someday perhaps they will come up with a way to change names of places without the slaughter of millions… but probably not. However- I digress. I am here to invite you to join our society."
"Society," D repeated, slightly suspicious. He'd never had much of an appetite for politics. "What are you, communists? Socialists?"
"No, no, monsieur," Brassai chuckled. "Nothing radical. We are just vampires. If you desire to remain in our city, you must join our society, and follow the rules laid out by our Great Ancestor."
"Great Ancestor?"
"The King of the Vampires, of course. Several of my literary-minded friends have decided it's more appropriate to call him our Great Ancestor. I suppose I'll have to read their dull history books to figure out why."
D almost wanted to roll his eyes. The absurdity of what he was hearing was almost unfathomable. Great Ancestor. Vampire Society. What was this rubbish?
"As I was saying," Brassai went on, sounding almost excited, "the society is an ingenious system for controlling the populace. We can't have vampires like us running about killing people at will, now, can we? The rules provide-"
"I have no desire to remain in this city, so I'm afraid I won't be joining you," D said brusquely.
"oh," Brassai was taken aback. "But then… why are you here?"
"I'm looking for a girl," D said, glad that they were finally getting down to important matters.
Brassai blinked. "A specific girl?"
"Her name is Samantha Rowntree. She came from England about three weeks ago. As soon as I find her, I will leave."
Brassai smiled again. "I know many girls in this city monsieur. One day I hope to know them all. With the help of the Society, I am sure I can locate this girl for you."
"You're insane," D's hand told him for the hundredth time. "I may not have fully understood what just happened… but I think you just employed a society of vampires to hunt down your missing sweetheart!"
"You're wrong," D growled.
"Well thank goodness! So what just hap-"
"She's not my 'sweetheart'," D said darkly.
"Whatever. But you actually commissioned a pack of vampires to go look for her? That's insane, D. Insane!"
D was back in his hotel room, with still more than an hour until dawn. There was a knock at the door. D opened it and was not at all surprised to see a sleepy-looking maid standing there.
"I beg of your pardon, sir," she said with a velvety accent. "But zee gentleman from dis evening, he have for you a message." She held up an envelope. D thanked her for it, and quickly read the note, which was scrawled in dark red ink.
"Have they actually found her?" his hand asked, just before D balled the paper up in his fist, and headed out the door.
It angered D that he had walked past the bordello half a dozen times without even once thinking to look inside. The demon in his hand was right- he was naïve. He had looked everywhere except the one place she had ended up. The thought of beautiful, innocent Samantha in such a filthy place filled him with terrible emotions- mostly, he was furious with himself for not finding her sooner. She was only ten blocks away from his hotel!
D practically tore the door off its hinges. There were two middle-aged ladies in the sitting room, and they both eyed him critically. They were the only women ever to notice that he looked rich before they noticed how handsome he was.
"Looking for some company, are you?" one of them asked, smirking.
"Her name's Samantha. Where is she?" D asked coldly. The women exchanged looks.
"I think we can fix you up with someone nicer than that," the other woman said.
"No. Where is she?" D growled.
The women rolled their eyes. They certainly weren't afraid of rough, angry men. At least this one wasn't ugly. "To tell you the truth, she's with another customer right at the moment, so you'll have to wait a bit," the first woman said indifferently.
D closed his eyes and focused. He thought he felt a familiar human presence somewhere on the second floor- and with it, a faint yet unmistakable dark presence of a vampire. Moving impossibly fast, D flew up the stairs, homing in on the vampire. This time he actually did rip the door off its hinges, and, sensing that Samantha and the undead creature were on separate sides of the room, he didn't hesitate to hurl the unhinged door at the vampire. It shattered against the creature, who let out an angry snarl. D realized that he recognized the weak vampire.
"My camera!" Brassai exclaimed, baring his fangs angrily. "How dare you! Is this how you repay me for finding her for you? Obviously, she means something to you- it's so intriguing that none of us can touch her, though she's fair game for her own kind… I only wanted to take her picture; she's as lovely as you said, and so exquisitely mortal…"
"Go," D commanded hoarsely, kneeling beside Samantha, who lay between blankets on the floor. The vampire stared at them, wishing with all his might that the flying door had somehow missed his camera so that he could capture the scene before him and make it eternal. At last, he nodded and retreated down the hall. It would be dawn soon.
Gently, his hand trembling imperceptibly, D reached for the girl's pale, slender throat. Almost fearfully, he turned her head. There were several small bruises, but definitely no bites. Her eyelids fluttered, and when she opened her eyes she didn't look at D. Instead she stared flatly straight ahead, her expression lifeless. D realized that she had a fever. Without a word, D lifted her into his arms.
A/N: Paris in the 1920s… an irresistible setting for vampires! I'm sure nobody cares, but Brassai, 'The Eye of Paris', was a real guy who slept during the day and went out at night to wander around Paris taking pictures of prostitutes etc. What he says to D in the above chapter about why he loves the night is a real quote from the real guy. And he's got this weird obsession with mirrors in a lot of his photographs… I first saw his work back in French class in high school and it reminded me of vampires before I ever learned that the guy was practically a vampire himself. Anyway, he's not a recurring character so you can go ahead and forget about him now. Let's move on the obligatory "girl falls for D" part and get that over with. Is anyone actually reading this? Seriously?