Page 65 of The Assassin and the Libertine
"Depart, then, impious one, depart, accursed one, depart with all your deceits, for God has willed that man should be His temple!”
Henri’s body lifted from the ground and a deafening roar filled the room. Just as suddenly, the body slammed back down to the ground and started to dissolve into the same viscous black liquid. The torches on the walls blew out in a rotten gust of wind and the room plunged into silent darkness.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
ÉTIENNE
November 1, 1765
Rue des Oubliés
“Is everyone okay?”Daphne asked.
Murmured assent came from all except Philippe, who remained unconscious on the floor with several bleeding head wounds. I made my way to him and tore several strips of fabric from his absurd gold waistcoat, then used the ties to bind his hands and feet behind him.
With perfect timing, Father Clarence roused himself from the floor.
“Oh! Is it done? Is it over? Is the demon gone?” the priest queried.
“No thanks to you,” I growled.
Daphne interceded before I could wring the scrawny priest’s neck. “Father, if you would be so kind, please take the Comtesse de Brionne upstairs and back to my carriage. I need you to bring it here so we can move Philippe discreetly. Besides, I’m notsure how long we’ve been down here, and I can’t chance us not making it to the carriage before dawn.”
“I’m certainly not leaving you alone withhim,” Charlotte mumbled. “I cannot believe I married this monster.”
“I will be fine, Charlotte. Étienne is here with me. Hurry now! I don’t want to remain here a moment longer than we have to.”
“Allow me,” I offered, escorting Charlotte and Father Clarence up the stairs. They both clung to my arms as I navigated my way through the blackness. From the top of the landing, I could see a worrying pink blush through the open front window. A new day was upon us.
I rejoined Daphne in the cellar, and we hauled Philippe upstairs together. We sat in the bookshop, nervously aware of the uncomfortable silence that stretched between us. Finally, I could stand it no longer.
“Daphne, are you all right?”
She turned to me, but I doubted she could see much in the gloom of the shop. I, on the other hand, could see her as perfectly as in the light of day.
Her hair had tumbled out of the elaborate coiffure and her pale gown was stained with blood and filth. Her body sagged with exhaustion and her eyes glittered with unshed tears. She was staring out the window at the lightening sky, chewing on her bottom lip.
“How can I live with this?” Her voice was a whisper. “Everything that happened…all of these horrors…they were all my fault. People are dead because of me, Étienne. Charlotte’s marriage is over, and her future is… I don’t know if she can bear the scandal. Asmoday is gone and Philippe’s capture will prove your innocence to The Order, but how much of a difference did it all make? Paris is still rife with plague and I fear for the people. If a solution isn’t found—if the king doesn’t do something, I believe your uprising will indeed come to pass.”
I walked over and reached for her, then thought better of it and dropped my hand. Asmoday’s cruel words rang through my head. She didn’t need yet another man pining for her, especially after everything she’d been through. Unsure of myself, I cleared my throat.
“When I was turned, it was not by my choice,” I began. “I was staying with a friend in Budapest and we went out one night—drinking, gambling, carousing. There was a beautiful woman who caught my eye and I followed her back to her home. She attacked me—bit my throat and nearly drained me. As I lay dying on the floor of her cottage, she offered me the choice; die there and face my eternal judgment, or drink from her and live forever. I could not speak. I was too weak to tell her, but I wished for death. I knew I would face demons eventually and it didn’t matter that I would face them that night or a thousand nights hence. She took pity on me, though, believing someone of my roguish nature would consider an eternity of sin a blessing. She forced me to drink her blood and I became a vampire.”
Daphne’s tears spilled down her cheeks, but I did not reach to brush them away. I did not trust myself to touch her, fearing I would never be able to let her go.
“When I returned to Paris some time later, I’d become accustomed to my abilities, but I feared the judgment of my family and friends. I was in Paris when my father died—not abroad, as Josephine believes. I’d come home but was too afraid to return to my old life. My father died alone while I hid myself in a basement eight blocks away. Not a day has passed that I don’t regret my cowardice.”
Daphne touched my arm and I stiffened. Immediately, she pulled away.
“I’m sorry,” she said.
I sighed. “I tell you these things because I carried on. The things that haunt us never simply go away, Daphne, but weare made stronger as we learn to bear them. Philippe’s actions are not your fault, but you will have to live with them. Lives may have been lost in the balance but think of all the lives you saved in your fight for truth; mine, Charlotte’s. Hell, even Father Clarence’s. The countless others who would have fallen prey to a weak man with a powerful weapon. Let that knowledge be your strength.”
She considered my words and we watched the sky soften through the window.
“Étienne, what Asmoday said down there about you—about us…”
“Lies designed to provoke. Nothing more,” I said, cutting her off. She nodded, but I could have sworn I saw a flash of something like disappointment in her eyes. It was gone in an instant. My heart clenched.
