Chapter V
L'Aube spirituelle
Quand chez les débauchés l'aube blanche et vermeille
Entre en société de l'Idéal rongeur,
Par l'opération d'un mystère vengeur
Dans la brute assoupie un ange se réveille.
Des Cieux Spirituels l'inaccessible azur,
Pour l'homme terrassé qui rêve encore et souffre,
S'ouvre et s'enfonce avec l'attirance du gouffre.
Ainsi, chère Déesse, Etre lucide et pur,
Sur les débris fumeux des stupides orgies
Ton souvenir plus clair, plus rose, plus charmant,
À mes yeux agrandis voltige incessamment.
Le soleil a noirci la flamme des bougies;
Ainsi, toujours vainqueur, ton fantôme est pareil,
Ame resplendissante, à l'immortel soleil!
— Charles Baudelaire
Spiritual Dawn
When debauchees are roused by the white, rosy dawn,
Escorted by the Ideal which gnaws at their hearts
Through the action of a mysterious, vengeful law,
In the somnolent brute an Angel awakens.
The inaccessible blue of Spiritual Heavens,
For the man thrown to earth who suffers and still dreams,
Opens and yawns with the lure of the abyss.
Thus, dear Goddess, Being, lucid and pure,
Over the smoking ruins of stupid orgies,
Your memory, clearer, more rosy, more charming,
Hovers incessantly before my widened eyes.
The sunlight has darkened the flame of the candles;
Thus, ever triumphant, resplendent soul!
Your phantom is like the immortal sun!
The house was oddly silent. As Remy came down to the living room, he noticed only half the candles were lit, the curtains were closed and there was no one there. Since Ororo had arrived he would always find the living room enlightened, all windows open, and she would be sitting there doing something to distract herself with once her chores were done. It became familiar to him.
-Etiènne!- He called out.
It took a few minutes before the steps of the valet started to sound into the emptiness of the semi-dark living room. The young man stood in front of him, waiting for orders.
-Where's Ororo?
-Last I've seen her she was going to her room. Do you need me to call her, sir?
-No…let her be. You can go now…get my carriage ready; I'll be going out in a while.
-Yes, sir…
As the valet left, Remy turned on his heels and headed the second floor. For some reason in the past week he had never been able to leave the house without biding her goodbye. He didn't know if it was just out of habit, or something else. He had to be honest, he enjoyed her company, she was an intelligent woman (He didn't know many women he could discuss serious literature with), with a natural kindness about her that was enough to put anyone at ease, not to mention she had to be one of the most beautiful creatures he had ever laid eyes on. Indeed her company could be quite addictive, especially for someone so used to being on his own, who found so difficult to find interest in anyone. Indeed the way he saw the world and dealt with it found no echo on any of the people he met on a daily basis.
People whose main interests resided in balls, coffee prices and social events…women who insisted on putting on the act of delicate spiritual flowers, when actually their main concerns lay on vicious gossip and poisonous liaisons; men who tried to look and act like perfect noblemen while barely having any education other than that needed to run a plantation, who tortured slaves for fun and acted like they understood politics…Remy looked at all of them from above, with the knowledge that all of those people, with their vanity and all the things they held so dearly, would vanish…Turn to ashes within some decades, their hollow livelihood would leave no trace behind, nothing of greatness or brilliance…Remy would live on to see their fall, and the rise of those after them, and the fall of these…on and on, in a ever repeating cycle of nothingness…
But Ororo…With her he had a glimpse of greatness so many lacked around him… In her mind he could meet again all the heroes and legends he had dreamed of in his long forgotten youth; Don Quixote, Achilles, Sheherazad, Joan of Arc, Odysseus, Charlemagne…She had read it all, she knew them all, she understood them all intimately… She could still grasp with her nimble fingers all those images he had long deserted when faced with the torments of a new life…From those fingers music he had long ago forgotten how to play with any emotion, came alive, even if not always perfect, but with an eagerness to expand and fill the air… In her eyes he saw a hunger to embrace beauty typical of the great mortals.
For she was a mortal, and her mortality was made beautiful by her desire to drink life in.
Unlike others like who went through life without a thought about what was left behind or what was to come in the future, living their numb, stupid, every day reality… Unlike immortals, who have seen everything and felt everything, and to whom life held no taste or surprise…Her mortality flowed from her like the last sounds of an world coming to an end, suspended between eternity and reality, eager to find something worth living for.
Maybe that was so intoxicating about her…maybe that was the reason he could never keep his eyes away from her whenever she opened her mouth, or performed any ordinary everyday task… Watching her had an element of novelty that he imagined would be forever lost to him, imprisoned in eternal, never-changing night.
He reached her room and knocked. No response followed. He tried once again and called her softly. Still silence. He brought his hand to the doorknob, hopping to find it locked. It wasn't.
In spite of himself, Remy opened the door, slowly.
There were a few candles lit inside, on her nightstand. It was more than enough to shed a glow all over the pale pink dress she wore. It spilled around her in folds that reached the floor as she lazily slept in her bed. One bare foot was visible under the hem of the skirt, lightly touching the floorboards like a feather. Her hair was tied, but she must have been sleeping for a while now as some locks escaped the hairpins and cascaded freely over her shoulders made bare by the fact that the dress cleavage was almost undone. She probably had been twisting and turning, for her clothes and hair to be in such disarray…Bad dreams, maybe? He thought. Remy came closer and a slight frowning and the thin layer of sweat over her forehead confirmed his assertion. He wondered what those nightmares that filled her sleep could be…
He stretched a hand out and wiped her brow with the back of his fingers, making sure the touch was slight enough to not wake her. Ororo frowned again, moaned softly and turned her face away from him. In doing so some of her hair had fallen away from her shoulder, giving him a glimpse of her neck…Not too much, just enough for him to see a small vein, unnoticeable to the human eye under such young and fresh skin, but completely obvious to one of his nature…He could see as the blood gently flowed inside the millimetric vessel, exhaling a soft warmth and radiance typical of living creatures.
Automatically, his hand traveled down to her neck and a finger followed the course of the blood under her skin, feeling a small shock as it pulsated under his very cool digits…He leaned in without thinking, the subtle perfume of jasmine mixed into the fragrance natural to her proving to be a much more powerful drug to his system than alcohol or opium…He could already feel the heat emanating from her smooth flesh against his lips, and they weren't even touching her…Suddenly he heard the voice of Etienne coming from far away.
The young man was in the living room. He probably expected his master to be still in the same place waiting for him to prepare the carriage…He could distinctly hear as his valet entered the living room and said "everything ready" to an empty room. Then there was silence; probably the servant waiting for his return…He stood upright and breathed in heavily, his mind returning to the reality…For a moment he wondered what would he have done if Etienne's voice didn't catch his attention…He realized, much to his own surprise, he didn't even know what he was about to do…He looked down at the sleeping woman, realizing his sharp, machine-like instincts had, for the first time in years, failed him. He had just been completely unaware of his actions or surroundings…completely vulnerable… He straightened his jacket and headed the door.
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The light was scarce and the air filled with smoke from the lamps, cigars and cigarettes. As he got in, Remy could notice several men gambling by the right, as another group talked loudly with some women at the left, probably boasting about some manly feats…The women merely giggled at their drunken companions, and tossed their hair back, exposing an obscene amount of skin through the exaggeratedly plunging cleavages… From the rooms hidden from the eye of the costumers he could hear sounds that left very little to the imagination…Looking at the bar he saw many other women talking amongst themselves and eyeing the door, as if waiting for somebody to walk in… Blonde, redhead, brunette, black, mulatto and Indian girls exposed like items on a shelf, waiting for the costumer to take his pick. A young blonde, a little more outgoing than some of her colleagues, wearing a tight leather corset and silk stockings that looked almost too good for the place, walked towards him:
-Good evening, monsieur…my name is Desirée…Yours? - She held out a hand and presented herself like they were in a upscale soirée and not a low class bar that doubled as brothel. He decided to play along and bowed, kissing her hand.
-Louis…-He lied. For a moment he pondered what was the point of using a fake name. Maybe it was just for fun.
-How may I help you, Louis?
He looked over her shoulder as she stood closer and noticed another scantly clad woman in the bar. She looked new to the trade, still a little dazed and scared; Remy estimated she wasn't any older than seventeen. Her looks, however, struck him the most: she was tall and her skin had a rich chocolate tone, her brown hair fell down her shoulders in curls and her pale green-hazel eyes shone with the reflections of the candles. Of course she lacked the same grace and ethereal beauty, but at first examination she could easily pass for Ororo´s sister. His eyes narrowed as he felt a strange sense of gratification invade him, very similar to what a child feels when getting a new toy.
-You may introduce me your friend over there…-He told Desirée, gesturing the woman by the counter. The blonde seemed disappointed, but called the other woman.
-Valerie, come over here…this gentleman wants to have a word with you…-She giggled as her companion approached them with some uncertainty. As she left, Desirée told him jokingly- be nice to her…she's still green…
Desirée then disappeared into the crowd, looking for more receptive company, as Remy led Valerie out…
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Ororo woke up with a suffocating feeling. She had been sleeping very little lately. Always those nightmares. She couldn't sleep at night because of them and even as she tried to find some rest during the day, she would rapidly drift into sleep and they would return to her.
Sitting up straight, she passed a nervous hand over her forehead. Realizing the candles were almost entirely spent, she got up and went to the living room. After lighting up a few more candles, she opened the windows. Ororo always hated being in confined places; they made her panic… Maybe it had to do with the one time Genevieve locked her inside an armoire as punishment for something she couldn't even recall…Since that day she hated dark, closed places, which was why she always kept the windows of the house open and many candles lit. The fact that Remy had her confined in the house probably wasn't helping either.
She sat on the windowsill and breathed in the cool nightly air. The clock had just struck midnight…Etienne was probably sound sleep by now and Remy as usual wasn't home. The silence in the living room was so deep she could almost hear the sound of her own breathing. Ororo wished she still had some energy left to read or do anything else, but she felt tired. Lately she felt more tired after sleeping than after working…She decided it was better to just head back to her room…even if she couldn't get some sleep, at least getting out of that heavy dress and tight corset would make her feel a little less weary…
She went to the table by the corner to retrieve some candles from the drawer, but as she opened it, something fell with a rustling sound. Looking down she saw it was an envelope, fallen from a little pile of envelopes sitting atop of the table. Etienne usually got the mail and left it there; even if Remy didn't get any personal letters, there was always something the foreman at the farm wished to inform him of, or some party invitations and business correspondence. She picked up the fallen letter, noticing the foreman calligraphy, as she had expected and moved to put it back on the pile. Before she could lay the envelope over the other she noticed something odd. The next letter of the pile had her name written on it. She frowned. Getting the envelope she opened it, wondering who could possibly have sent her a letter. Inside she found only a small note:
"Dear child,
I hope is still Etienne to pick up the mail, and the maid to organize it; this way I know this letter will get to you before falling in Remy´s hands. I understand you were apprehensive to tell me what was going on you mind, but believe me, I noticed something odd. I'm not sure what. But I want you to know that you can count on me if anything happens. I will send one of my servants to you every two days, in the morning to pick up any letter or message you wish to send me. Tomorrow someone will be there to get your answer to this.
Mattie"
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Relief was a common feeling after one of his nightly "hunts". But this was a different kind of relief. Not the primal relief of having the biological need of nutrition and energy sated. This felt like…satisfied desire.
Of course Valerie was substitute. She would never completely fulfill the needs he didn't dare to act upon in reality. She was an easier target, someone he wouldn't remember within a few years, or even months; someone he wouldn't have any remorse about. The one he really craved, he would never take… not in this way. Actually, he came to realize, Ororo had awakened in him two completely different kinds of cravings It was just bound to happen to someone condemned to eternally float between humanity and eternity to have them clash one time or another. But he never expected it to happen this way.
Ororo awakened feelings he had left behind with his lost mortality…Because those were feelings only mortals could have; they were nature's disguised way to help them forget they are finite, to give them some consolation from the knowledge of their impending end. That was what gave mortals their will to love, desire, reproduce, care for each other…those things made them forget how small they were, how fragile. Once Remy had left the world of common men, those feelings had no sense. Why reproduce, if you can live forever? Why love if you know no love will be long enough to last as much as your life? Why feeling remorse, doing good deeds, caring for anyone, if you know heaven or hell are not options, and you no longer have a soul to be saved or damned?
But somehow, Ororo managed to bring back those earthly urges. And those feelings were the precise thing keeping him from acting on his most primary desires, those that came with his current condition…He cared about her and yet she made his blood boil with assassin intentions. Part of him wanted to set her free, keep her alive, bright and angelic as she was, as a momentary reminder that there is heaven, and even though he couldn't have it, he would have a little bit of it every time he remembered her…Part of him wanted to bring her down with him, shatter her pristine purity, feed on her, on her blood, on her beauty, have her completely…forever.
Remy got up as the limp body of young Valerie, still warm, fell from his arms onto the bed. He could hear a shallow breathing coming out of her, accompanied by the gurgling sounds of spilling blood. For a moment he imagined the agonizing feeling that was surely overcoming her body; she was gasping for air and not getting any, there was probably too little blood in her to keep her heart going…slow painful death. That wasn't what he meant for her…but for some reason his attack had been less than perfect; all his other victims went fast, but with Valerie he had hesitated and, in doing so, missed the main artery…It was the first time ever he made such mistake… Poor Valerie, her only fault was…looking a little like Ororo. Enough to make him use her as a substitute, a momentary relief from his inner torment…He didn't mean for her to suffer like that…He stretched out both his hands, his palms gripping the sides of her face…as his wrists moved in one sharp twist, he heard a cracking sound. Then she was quiet…He gently smoothed one thick curl behind her ear:
-Je suis desolé, chère enfant…Mais c´est mieux ainsi...La bàs persone peut te faire soufrire comme ici...Repose...Dors
(Continues...)
I'm sorry, dear child...But it's better like this...over there no one can make you suffer like (they do) here...Rest...sleep