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"I want you to do something to impress me, Michel," he says. Soren's dressed in his finery, black trousers, tunic and belt, black boots, and it contrasts against his pale skin and white-blond hair. He enjoys looking like a vampire and does whatever he can to enhance it, relishing the fear his appearance elicits in his victims. Indeed, it seems as if their fear gives him as much delight as does their blood.
He motions to the servant and holds out his goblet for more wine.
"Do something out of the ordinary. Show me how far you've come. How you've adopted the spirit of our kind."
Michel shrugs his shoulders.
"What could possibly surprise you? You've been in existence for thousands of years."
Soren purses his lips.
"Nothing in itself. You could surprise me with your willingness to do it. That would be the novelty. Think of it – Michel de Cernay, former Domini canis, Hound of God. Priest, Bishop of Carcassonne. God's Beloved – isn't that what the name Michel stands for in your language?"
Michel’s face is impassive. "Not so beloved after all I expect."
Soren only grins.
Later, we’re out strolling down along the river, enjoying the night. The sky is clear, the stars barely visible because it’s a full moon, and this one is blue, its edges blurred by high cloud. A strong wind blew in over the land earlier in the week, carrying on it darkness during the day. Reports from travelers bring news of an eruption of a volcano in Italy and the sun takes on a violet hue during the daylight hours.
A bad omen during a time when every sign seems dark.
“So, Michel,” Soren says as we stroll along, admiring the humans as they’re out walking along the Seine, taking the air, escaping the stink of the city. “What are you going to do to surprise me? I’m bored.”
Michel walks ahead of us, his hands clasped behind his back, his gaze moving over the mortals we pass, eyeing them, sizing them up. A few of the women eye him, for he’s beautiful with his long hair pulled back, in his black clothing.
“I’m still thinking,” he says.
We leave the more refined part of the city for the stretch of the Seine bordering slums, where no one in authority notices drained corpses thrown into the river. We come across a man begging on the street, crouched down in the gutter, asking for money to help feed his starving family.
“How many are there in your family?” Michel asks as he digs into his pocket for a coin.
“Six, my Lord,” the man says, his hand shaking so badly he can barely take the coin Michel offers. “The wife died in childbirth and I have five children.”
“Where are they?” he says, glancing around. “Where do you live?”
“We stay under the bridge, my Lord,” the man says. His face is filthy, his hair matted, his clothes stiff with sweat and dirt.
Michel turns to us. “It would be a mercy, don’t you think? How can a family survive without a mother?”
Soren nods. “Truly a mercy.”
I stop in my tracks. Michel’s going to kill an entire family?
“Take me to them. I want to see them. Perhaps if your story is true, I’ll take care of you. I need a special project.”
The man is so grateful, he fawns at Michel’s feet, kissing his legs, hobbling down the stairs to the space under the bridge.
There we find the family, the children ranging in age from twelve to two, three girls and two boys. The youngest is a tiny girl with a filthy face, sleeping in her older sister’s arms.
Michel knees down and looks the sleeping children over.
“You’ve done your best,” he says to the man. “You can’t be expected to care for them all alone. What will they do without a mother?”
“I do what I can, my Lord. I do what I can.”
“That’s all we can do,” Michel replies. He reaches into his pocket, appearing to remove more money, but when he extends his hand it’s empty. Instead, he grabs the man by the scruff of his neck, and he calms the man. Then, his fangs extended, his eyes red, Michel bites the man’s neck, drinking him dry in a few short minutes.
Next, he kills the oldest girl, who is sleeping peacefully and never wakes then he moves on to the next oldest child – the oldest boy and does the same. Not a single sound is heard from any of them as he kills them for he silences them first so they don’t awaken. Finally, he takes the baby in his arms – a lovely child with pale curling hair, and kills her as well. He’s taken so much blood that his skin has a rosy hue, the first time I’ve seen him so since we were turned.
