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Chapter Twenty-Four

It took two days to arrange an appointment with the Governor.

He was a stocky man with an overgrown set of muttonchops clinging to his pallid face. Eyes which studied the two vampires with a look of reptilian detachment even after Vasilja prodded him with her power.

His upper lids never quite opened, and the bags under his eyes seemed to droop so far as to almost envelope his cheeks.

“This is most irregular, Countess,” he said. “Most irregular indeed. Our selection of investments has provided a steady income, which is proof Count Dracula’s holdings have been meticulously maintained.”

“I’m sure they have,” Vasilja said. Waved a hand dismissively. “But we wish to see some diversity into, let’s say, alternate pockets of possibility?”

“I’m not sure what you mean.”

“Well, we’ve noticed there’s been quite the interest in electricity. It looks promising.”

“A fad, I’m sure.” His expression was one of distaste. “I have it on good authority that it’s scandalously dangerous. It has been shown that it can kill horses. Imagine the dangers it would pose to people.”

“Oh, I am aware, Mister Magnin. I truly am.” She almost scowled. “But we believe it to be more profitable in the longterm than gas.”

“That’s not what I’m, hearing, Countess. And my information comes from very scientific and reputable sources, I assure you. Everyone’s hearing the same.”

“Well, we’ve heard the opposite. Haven’t we, Senka?”

Senka tried to sit up straighter in her chair.

Failed.

Nodded. “Oh, yes, Vasilja. Very profitable business.”

“You see?” Vasilja leaned forward. Rapped a hand on the old man’s desk. “Even my uneducated sister knows it’s very profitable, Mister Magnin. So, we’d like to see some investments in it. I have a list of companies here to start with.”

“I would need Count Dracula’s signature, of course.” With a grunt he pushed himself back in his chair, as if to end the meeting.

“You’re not listening, Mister Magnin,” she said. “I do so dislike when people don’t listen to me. Especially if I feel it’s because they’re not taking me seriously.”

“I cannot change the terms of our agreement, Countess, and our terms were quite clear. I can make no business arrangements without his signature.”

“Yet, you may accept mine when the need to withdraw funds is presented?”

“Of course. That is agreeable.”

“I’m glad you find that agreeable, Mister Magnin, because in the morning, I shall be withdrawing the entirety of the Dracula funds and transferring it to another bank. I am currently investigating the Rothschilds. It sounds as though they have a more civilized understanding of the concept of profit-building.”

The old man almost choked, his pallid face somehow getting more pale. “But, Countess…”

“I will not hear it. Either you will divert our interests as I’ve told you to, or I will divert the capital. It’s your choice, Mister Magnin.”

“It seems you have me in a corner, Countess.”

“You’ll find the Count left money matters to me, Mister Magnin. A sensible decision, really. He’s actually quite useless with financial decisions. If he was any good at them, he wouldn’t have had so many tax problems and be in the position he was when we met.”

“Well,” he said. Reptile eyes trying to judge her determination. “Then, perhaps we could come to some form of arrangement after all.”

“That would be pleasant.”

“However, the agreement with the Count still stands. I need his signature.”

“I sense you have an alternative option?”

“There may be a way to satisfy both legal and financial obligations,” he said. His smile was rueful, but his gaze had gained some respect for her as he leaned forward. “We could, say, withdraw funds from the Dracula account and, perhaps, deposit them in one of your own, Countess? Those funds could be used for the investments you request.”

“This sounds much more reasonable.” She looked at Senka, who shrugged. Bored. “I will, of course, require another account for my sister. She has been authorised, I take it?”

“Of course.”

“Excellent.” Vasilja slapped Senka’s forearm. “Oh, do wake up, Senka. Protecting your financial future is of some importance, you know. You can’t maintain a castle without income, you know.”

“Very wise words,” Magnin rumbled. “You should listen to your sister, Countess.”

“I do,” Senka said. “I don’t really get a choice.”

“Don’t be loathsome.” Vasilja looked smug. “Now, Mister Magnin. I trust the necessary papers will be sent to my hotel tomorrow?”

“Of course.”

“Excellent. Please have them left at the front desk for me.”

“As you wish.” He didn’t look happy, but the vampire was content he’d follow instructions.

“Then, I have another matter to discuss. One which requires discretion.”

“Oh?” He rubbed his muttonchops and settled more comfortably in his chair. Banking wasn’t his favourite subject, and he’d no doubt be passing off the paperwork to one of his junior assistants. Who, Vasilja hoped, would be more open to her powers.

Gossip, however, was something he relished. And the tone of her voice was a lure on which he would be pleased to nibble.

“We’re new to Paris. I haven’t yet had a chance to introduce myself. But the Count, as you know, has always maintained strong ties within the Masonic community. He is also intermittently active within several philosophical societies.”

He looked away with a slight cough. “I wouldn’t know, Countess. Entirely not my business.”

“Of course not.” She tried again, pushing with her power. Leaning closer. Purring softly. “Pierre. It wouldn’t do any harm to share a name with me of someone, shall we say, high within the Lodge? I wish only to further extend my husband’s greetings and enter into Parisian society with the right kind of people. You do know what I’m talking about, don’t you?”

“It would be a serious breach of etiquette…”

Vasilja’s smile washed through him like a ray of moonlight.

“Pierre,” she crooned. “I won’t tell a soul.”

“Freddy,” he sighed. “Frederic Bricaud. His is a powerful voice I’m sure Count Dracula would wish to ally more closely to in these troubled times. He is a brilliant man. A man of clear purpose and a true desire to unite all men regardless of rank, or belief. Someone to be admired greatly, I think.”

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“Of course.” Vasilja placed a hand on his desk. “And would you be willing to write a letter of introduction for us, Mister Magnin?”

As they left the banker’s house, Senka gave her shoulders a shake to clear the pain of having sat for so long in the uncomfortable chair.

“I never thought I would see anyone I truly didn’t want to bite,” Senka said with a wrinkle of her nose. “But there he is.”

“He’s a wretched creature,” Vasilja agreed. “But that’s bankers for you. Their souls are firmly in our master’s grip and so they go through their daily lives with no real passion.”

“Why didn’t you just ask him if he knew the Luciferians? Why do we have to find this Mister Bricaud?”

“Because I couldn’t control that old lizard enough. I couldn’t trust that he wouldn’t tell anyone when we were finished. I didn’t want him running off to the local authorities the minute we left his house.”

“Would he really?”

“It’s hard to tell. At the very least, he’d use the information to gain some control over our finances. And we can’t have that.”

“Mister Bricaud will know, though? Because he’s a Freemason?”

“I think so. You see, Senka, secret societies are simply places rich people attend to find others who think in the same way they do. Freemasonry is very popular in Europe. It has been since the Revolution. Lately, the Lodge here in France has begun acting peculiar.”

“How?”

“I read some of Dracula’s letters to Mister Magnin. The Lodge started admitting atheists.”

“Atheists?”

“Yes. Dracula naturally thought it was a good idea. Reducing the influence of Christians inside political circles would help us an awful lot. But it hasn’t been very popular, as you can imagine. He might be a few decades too soon.”

“You think they’re also accepting Luciferians.”

“I think some of them were already Luciferians, Senka. Why else would anyone want to let atheists into their Lodge? Their conversation is very limited as they’re not very philosophical, you know. They tend to run out of ideas fairly quickly after mathematics. All the same, they dislike Christians as much as we do. The enemy of our enemy is our friend, or so it’s said.”

“Then, let’s go bite Mister Bricaud.”

“Not straight away, Senka. We’ll need him to tell us where the Luciferians are, first.”

When safe, the vampires lifted into the air and soared through the night sky. Senka’s eyes picked through the dark below like an owl’s, picking out those who walked alone down shadow-drenched alleys. Or who shivered under makeshift shelters.

Lost.

Feeble.

Unwanted.

These were easy prey. Safe to bite, as the city cared nothing for them.

Vasilja paused above the townhouse belonging to Bricaud.

Frowned.

Senka followed her gaze, seeing nothing. “What is it?”

“Do you know, Senka, but I believe Mister Magnin forgot to tell us something rather important.”

“What?”

“It appears Mister Bricaud is not just any normal man.” Her lips spread into a crooked grin. “He’s a priest.”

“A real one?”

“Yes, he does appear to be. His house has the smell of holiness around it.”

Senka clapped her hands. “That’s perfect!” She reached into her coat. “I brought the mace Hailwic gave me. She said it’s very good against priests. I could try it out. Let me try it out, Vasilja. I want to bite a priest!”

“So do I.” She ran her tongue across her lips. Her eyes glittered. “But we need to be careful, Senka. Very careful.”

“I can be careful. I promise.”

“Some priests have divine relics. Their crucifix might be blessed by the Pope, which makes it burn even hotter. If they’re especially faithful, their prayers can hurt your ears. It’s very unsettling when that happens, I can tell you. Dracula told me he knew one priest who could kill vampires just by touching them with his hand.”

“I’ll be careful.”

“We should be prudent. We should go back to Mister Magnin. Have him find us someone else. It’s what Hailwic would want us to do.” Vasilja hovered, turning lightly in the breeze. “But I’m not Hailwic. I must bite him, Senka. I must! He’s right there, isn’t he? And he’s not inside a church. We must have him.”

“We must!”

Vasilja let out a small kittenish moan. Then dropped suddenly toward the shadows down the side of the house. “Quickly! Before Hailwic’s ghost tells me I’m being stupid and I start listening to her.”

“Wait for me!”

They knocked on the door, Vasilja motioning Senka to stand behind her shoulder. “Try to look bored, Senka. Like we’re going to a recital. I don’t want you to scare him off. And don’t smile. Your fangs are showing.”

“I’m just excited, that’s all.”

“Well, don’t be. This is actually very dangerous. If I thought about it any longer, I’d recognise the whole thing as a silly notion. We should leave. Yes, we should…”

The door opened with a grumpy lurch. “Yes? What is it? It’s very late, you know.”

“Why, yes, Mister Bricaud. We were sent here on a matter of great importance by Mister Pierre Magnin. Are you familiar with Pierre at all?” The vampire oozed her power through the door, pushing with all her strength through the veil which clouded her own awareness.

Frederic hissed inwardly, eyes widening as he guessed at their urgency. “What is it? Have they rebelled at last? Has the Lodge finally split?”

Vasilja kept her face expressionless. “I do think we should discuss this a little more privately, Mister Bricaud. Perhaps you might allow us the courtesy of entering your home?”

“Of course!” He threw the door open and waved them inside. “Please. Come inside. Come inside, ladies. I’ll put a log on the fire. You must be cold. The weather has been most inclement lately.”

“Close the door quickly,” Vasilja said as she entered. “There may be spies about.”

“Spies?” He shoved his surprised face outside and looked around, paying close attention to the bushes by his window.

“Is he alright?” Senka asked softly. “He looks a bit strange.”

“Hush, Senka.” She stifled a giggle, whispering quickly. “He’s not a real priest after all. He’s a Calvinist!”

Senka blinked, glancing at the priest. “Oh.”

“I don’t see anyone,” he said. “But a curtain moved across the road. That’s Joachim. He’s in league with the Devil. I know it. He watches me. But I watch him, too. I’ve seen the depravities he engages in. Oh. Forgive me. That’s not for polite conversation. Please, ladies. This way. I say, are you wearing a gentleman’s coat?”

“We came in a rush,” Vasilja said quickly. “And Mister Magnin thought it best to disguise us. You see? You didn’t know she was a proper lady until she was close.”

“Very smart thinking,” he nodded. Pushed his eyebrows together seriously. The wart on his cheek wobbled above his well-trimmed beard. “Very sensible. Always a planner, is Pierre. Always one step ahead.”

“Yes, of course he is.”

“Here. Take a seat. Would you like some tea?”

“No, Frederic. Or may we call you Freddy? Pierre said we might. We don’t drink tea, you see.”

“Don’t you? Well, I have some brandy. Mineral water? It’s supposed to be good for you.”

“No. We’re in a bit of a hurry.”

“Of course.” He held up a fist. “The fight.”

“Yes. The fight.”

He bent down and tossed a small log onto the fire. It coughed out a few sparks before reluctantly smoking into life.

“I don’t know how much longer we can hold things together,” he said. He sounded tired. “The Lodge is breaking apart. Everyone bickers about every little thing. They fight tooth and nail over inconsequential things. Little things. Nobody can agree on anything. It will have to split. Everyone knows this. But who will keep the majority, eh? That’s the real question. Keeping the majority. I think we were doing the right thing by bringing in the atheists. And I’m sure you agree it’s proper to allow women entry, too. It isn’t right to exclude women. It just isn’t.”

“You’re a good man,” Vasilja purred. She glided across to him, reaching out with her hand.

He flinched.

Her cold sharp fingers caressed his cheek, sliding down past the wart and across the rough foliage of his beard.

He smiled back awkwardly, eyes following her tongue as it wet her upper lip.

“Well,” he said. Nervous. “I don’t believe I am. Like all men, I am corrupted. Wicked. My mind is filled with dreadful ideas. Simply dreadful. Sometimes, I lie awake and find myself calmed by thoughts of utter depravity. Depravity beyond that which Joachim has been practicing. Beyond that which some members of the Lodge have admitted to me. Even the atheists. I fear I am lost, Lady. Destined to find not an ounce of salvation in His Grace. I- Why am I telling you this?”

“You are among friends, dearest Freddy,” she said. Moved behind him, arms sliding between his. Hands pressing against his chest. “You can tell us anything. Can’t you? You feel comfortable with us. We’re here for you. Just for you. You like that, don’t you? Being alone with us?”

“Oh, yes. You’re very pretty…”

His glazed eyes skipped to Senka, who stared back at him without expression.

Waiting.

Vasilja whispered into his ear; “Mister Magnin said you know a lot of people in the Lodge.”

He blinked, not quite shaking loose of her grip. “I do! Well, I have to, don’t I? To hold everything together, you see. It’s important to speak with them all. Listen to their complaints, mostly. Try to keep them all steady.” He sighed. “It’s hard work, and I’m not sure I can do it for much longer…”

“Do they tell you their secrets? Do you tell them yours?”

“Sometimes.” He chewed his bottom lip. Sweat beaded against his forehead.

“And would they tell you if they were, say, engaging in very sinful behaviour?”

“Some of them might,” he admitted.

She turned him around, her arms sliding around his neck. She rested her head against his shoulder. Smiled. “Tell me. Tell me who is kneeling to Lucifer.”

“All of them. Everyone is sinful. The whole world kneels to the Evil One these days.”

“I mean, which has actually told you they are. Which claims the mantle of Luciferian?”

“Oh, well. That’s very privileged. They would not have told me under normal circumstances. I’m a priest. Whatever secrets they share must never pass my lips.”

“You’re a Calvinist priest.”

“Yes, but that hardly makes a difference.”

“Of course not.” She breathed into his ear. “Tell me, Freddy. Give me a name. Give me a name and I’ll tell you all about my sins. My sister, too. She has so many sins. More than you can count. I promise you, our depravity will devour you. They will leave you a quivering mess at our feet. Your soul will be corrupted with the knowledge of what we’ve done. I swear it.”

He shivered in her touch.

Closed his eyes.

“Well, I don’t know any for certain.” He trembled. “Joachim says he is, but I doubt him. He’s always looking for attention. Many say they are, you see, but they don’t practice it. Not truly. I’ve only ever known one who would dare consider practicing those obscene and blasphemous rites for real.”

“Oh?” She pulled him close, pressing herself against his back. Winding her leg against his thigh. “Who?”

“Well. Me.”