Page 59 of The Assassin and the Libertine
“Well, aren’t we just full of surprises? And where wasthatwhen we were fighting vampire thugs in an alley?” I sniffed.
He chuckled. “Parlor tricks, Duchesse. But I do believe Father Clarence will help us now—just as soon as he comes to. In the meantime…” He shifted the limp priest over his shoulder. “I suggest we make him comfortable in your carriage and find our way to the bookshop. We’re running short on time.”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
ÉTIENNE
October 31, 1765
Le Quartier Sanglant
Father Clarence rousedhimself shortly after the carriage trundled off from the abbey. I’d considered tying him up, but Daphne would hear none of it.
“He is a priest, Étienne! That would be incredibly undignified. Besides, we need his cooperation and he’s already bound to be cross with us for abducting him in the middle of the night.”
“Cross and confused,” Father Clarence said. He rubbed his head. When he saw me sitting across from him, he paled and thrust himself back in his seat. He held his rosary up in front of him and started reciting a litany of prayers.
“Back, vile beast! Back to the depths of Hell with you!”
I arched a brow and looked to Daphne.
“Monsieur,please. That is uncalled for. We didn’t have time for introductions back at the abbey, but may I presentto you Monsieur Étienne de Noailles, vampire emissary to His Majesty,” Daphne said.
I inclined my head.
“A pleasure,” I said smoothly.
Father Clarence looked even more horrified. Briefly, he appeared to consider his surroundings and his options—possibly to try and make an escape. Daphne seemed to read the same from him because she tutted and lifted her gown up to her thigh, drawing forth her flintlock pistol. She held it steadily, aiming at his knee. I found her threatening self-assurance incredibly erotic.
“Father Clarence,” she said in a bored, aristocratic tone. “I really am sorry for the manner and insistence upon which you were brought with us this evening, but I’m afraid I’ve run out of time to do things with more decorum. You say you are confused, and I aim to alleviate that. I will also promise you that you will not come to harm while you are here with us. Unfortunately, I cannot maintain that same assurance when we reach our destination. Humbly, I beg your patience while I explain everything to you.”
She lowered her pistol and Father Clarence lowered his rosary. He nodded at her.
“My companion tonight has been wrongfully accused of the murder of Madame de Pompadour. We’ve been investigating the manner of her death for weeks and have been led to a particular establishment inle Quartier Sanglant. The last time we were there, we were attacked by an invisible force—a force with the voice of my husband. We found evidence of a summoning circle, as well as a copy of thePseudomonarchia Daemonum. We believe someone has called forth the demon Asmoday and he is somehow tied to either the body or the soul of my husband. We need someone to perform an exorcism and banish the demon back to Hell.”
“But Madame, what you ask is impossible,” Father Clarence pleaded. “I cannot do it alone, and certainly not without permission from the Vatican. They require proof that these events are indeed demonic.”
“I know,” Daphne continued. “And under any other circumstances, we would petition the Vatican for help. But two of my friends have been taken tonight and I fear the worst. I have no more time to waste in seeking permissions. My cousin's and her husband’s lives depend on our urgency.”
Father Clarence’s features softened. “Madame, my heart goes out to you, but I simply do not think I am qualified to be able to hold an exorcism without?—”
“What will it take?” Daphne interrupted, her manner brittle and nearing panic. “Money? Or perhaps you desire something else? A title? I am friends with the king, you know. Or—what else? A lover?”
Father Clarence’s mouth dropped open and he reddened in embarrassment. Seizing her moment, Daphne leaned forward.
“Is that it, Monsieur? You wish for something discreet and carnal? I will take you to bed myself, if you want.”
I could not control the growl of displeasure that escaped from my chest.
“Perhaps you prefer a male companion? Monsieur de Noailles is one of the most legendary lovers in all of Paris. Do you not find him handsome, Father Clarence?” Daphne pushed forward, kneeling before him. Desperation shone in her angelic face. I wanted to break something. Father Clarence would be a start.
“Madame, please,” Father Clarence shied away from her kneeling form. “I have forgone such earthly pleasures. I do not carry a price.”
The carriage shuddered to a stop and I felt despair leech into Daphne. We’d arrived inle Quartier Sanglant. Cold andwithdrawn, she sat back and opened a hidden drawer beneath her seat. She pulled out several small throwing knives, a handful of thin wooden stakes, and a small pouch of gunpowder and bullets. She started to unfasten some of her heavy petticoats and her panniers, slimming down to her silk gown. From a second hidden compartment inside the carriage, she brought forth a simple leather harness that buckled around her shoulders and beneath her breasts. In it, she stashed her throwing knives and her pistol, coolly detached from Father Clarence's and my astonishment. In her pared down Artemis costume and armaments she no longer bothered to conceal, she looked like a goddess preparing for battle.
In one final moment of despondency, I snarled and seized Father Clarence by the throat.
“Fuck the Vatican,” I raged. “If you don’t agree to help us, I’ll kill you now and distribute your body parts to the impoverished vampires nearby.”
