Chương 213: Act 3, Chapter 63: An upper hand

Day in the story: 23rd January (Friday), evening Elle Erikson"Wait a second," I said, refocusing on what was happening around me. It was actually really good for our shared development that Alexa struck that deal with Victor. Not only could it result in that painting glove, but also in gathering the memories of how he made it, so we could replicate it ourselves later and create other fantastical items.

"What do you mean by Jesuit warlock?" Bastien laughed at that.

"Later, Elle," he said, stepping forward toward the man approaching us.

"Gustavo, my good friend," he greeted him in French, but I understood every word now. Speaking it was still harder, I had no real practice, but I knew enough to follow.

"You look like I remember him, son," Gustavo replied in the same language. Then he turned to me.

"And who is your friend?"

"Elle. I like her a lot. She is from America. I wanted to show her how mages here interact with each other. Is that bad? Oh, and she does not know French yet, so we should probably switch to English."

"Nice to meet you, Elle," Gustavo said, switching smoothly, his speech tinted with a French accent. He extended a hand toward me.

"I am Gustavo appartenant à Kalshique. Bastien here says you are lovely, and I am inclined to agree, at least judging by appearances." When I gave him my hand, he did not shake it. He bowed and kissed it instead. Owned by the Kalshique. That was a strange name. Probably not a surname at all. More like declaration of the ownership. A deity, maybe. Something he was bound to.

"Elle Erikson. Pleasure to meet you too," I replied.

"You have a rather long surname."

"That might be misleading, no?" he said, tilting his head slightly. I mirrored the gesture.

"It is not a name, but a denunciation of the demon that holds my reins. I am a warlock, and proud of it. Also a Jesuit priest. And a vampire hunter."

"That is… quite a combination. How does one become all three?"

"With enough wine, anything is possible, my dear," he said, taking a sip from the champagne at our table.

"Do you want the short or the long story?"

"Short, Gustavo," Bastien cut in before I could answer.

"We are on a clock. I need to meet Camille."

"Oh, you young ones. Always in a rush. Very well, the short version." He turned back to me, smiling, though there was something sharper behind it now.

"My family was torn apart by those vile creatures. They may present themselves as paragons of justice in their halls of light, but I know what they do in the shadows."

"Gustavo…"

"Sure, sure, Bastien. I will hold my tongue," Gustavo said, waving it off.

"Those vampires enthralled my mother, made my father kill himself. With her not caring about me and him gone, I ended up on the streets. Jesuit monks took me in. Good people. Flawed, yes, but good. Most of them fought their urges well enough. Most," he added.

"So when one did not, they punished him. And helped me after." He paused, then raised his glass slightly, as if toasting some distant memory, before draining it in one go.

"Years later, with all that bitterness and rage growing in me, I met a woman. Pure chance. She turned out to be a demon and offered me a chance at revenge. I would have been a fool not to take it."

"Revenge against the priest or the vampires?" I asked.

"Perceptive. I like you already." He smiled faintly.

"You know about demons?"

"A little."

"They make contracts. With anyone. Those agreements bind a person to them and grant Authority."

"That part I understand. But how do they actually help fulfill the contract? Are they granting wishes?"

"It was supposed to be the short version."

"Bastien," he said, glancing at him.

"We have all night. It will be as short as it needs to be. And when Camille gets here, I will introduce you."

"She is not here yet?" Laurent asked, but Gustavo ignored him with a dismissive wave.

"Demons do grant wishes," he continued.

"Within their Authority. Think of it as a single act meant to push things in your favor. In exchange, you offer your soul."

"That does not sound like an equal deal."

"You are thinking in religious terms," he said.

"A soul is not just who you are. It is also energy. Demons use it that way. When you die, it is released to whatever lies beyond, and they no longer feed on you. Catholics made them look worse than they are, with all that talk of soul-reaping." He smiled again, more to himself this time.

"So there I was. In a bar. Younger, and even more handsome if you can believe that, and with a demon as beautiful as you are, my dear." Bastien covered his face with both hands.

"And she offers me revenge. And what do I say? No, thank you, of course. I told her I would rather stay with her."

"You actually said that?"

"Of course. We are lovers to this day, and it's not seen as an adultery by the priests. She is a demon after all! She liked my boldness. But over time, she saw the fire in me. The need to deal with what was done to me. So we made a stronger pact. And I realized something. That monk was not the only one. There were vampires out there, still preying on people. Still needing to be dealt with."

"What a story," I said.

"That must have been one hell of a life."

"Still is, my dear. I am nowhere near done. Just look at me." He set his arms wide to the sides in theatrical gesture.

"When I get them, in their dark corners or in less official halls of light, I am the one that comes out with an upper hand. And guess what lays on that palm of mine? Their hearts! Cut clean."

"How did you end up a priest with all that… baggage?"

"He remembered what they stood for," Bastien cut in.

"And how good most of them were, even after what happened. When he found the one who hurt him, he forced him to repent. And then decided to do the same himself."

"You do listen to me, my boy!" Gustavo said, raising his voice with a grin.

"Yes. That is exactly it. I am still repenting. Doing my best to support the monastery and dealing with the plague that hangs over this city." As he spoke, a pale man approached us. Immaculate attire, long black hair, and eyes that cut straight through you. A vampire, no doubt. Bastien and Gustavo both turned toward him, but Gustavo did not pause for even a second.

"And even though I made my vows and will live as Jesus would, part of me is still bound to my beloved. And she just loves how it feels when I indulge in a bit of heart-reaping. So tell me, how could I ever stop?" If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

"Gustavo," the man said, his voice smooth, almost melodic. Higher than I expected. He was tall. Well-built. Around one ninety centimeters, maybe more.

"Frederic, it has been too long, my friend," Gustavo said, smiling as he grabbed his hand in a firm shake and clapped his shoulder with the other.

"I missed our talks."

"I was unaware you spoke English at all. The lady must be the reason, if I am not mistaken." The vampire turned to me.

"My name is Frederic Lumenombre. Welcome to my humble house."

"Elle Erikson," I replied.

"The way you guide light through this room is… remarkable." Better to start on the right foot. Even if the whole situation felt off.

"That would be my consort's doing," he said.

"But I will pass along your praise, as soon as an opportunity is given." He turned to Bastien and gave a slight bow.

"Bastien, it is always a pleasure."

"Likewise, Frederic. Please extend my greetings to Hadrien. May the light always shine for him."

"He will need it, where he is. Though I hear you intend to join him?"

"Where did you hear that, you old cocksucker?" Gustavo cut in, grabbing a glass of deep red wine from a passing tray.

"It is not like my protégé here is advertising it. Am I wrong, Bastien?"

"No. You are not," Laurent said, clearly not thrilled with Gustavo's tone.

"Then why would his Oxford team be here?" Frederic continued calmly.

"Why would you attend, if not to serve as a bridge between him and our dear key-holder? Only Elle's presence is… unexpected." His gaze shifted to me again.

"An American mage at a Parisian Bohemian gathering. That is rare. Are you here on behalf of your Guild? An official visit?" His questions were direct, but there was no compulsion behind them. I could answer however I wished.

"Show-off," Gustavo muttered, dragging Frederic's attention back to him.

"When are you leaving these walls? I would like to fight you. Kill you properly. Hard to do that when you hide in here all the time. Or have you gone limp-dick enough that I should go after your lover instead?"

"Gustavo, it is always a pleasure to host you," Frederic replied evenly.

"My home remains open to you, as you well know. If you wish for a formal confrontation, you are welcome to arrange one outside Bohemian grounds."

"You never leave them."

"Perhaps you should seek my consort in the Catacombs, then. If ending him is what your heart desires. In the meantime, enjoy the wine, or the usual game of chess." Only then did I get my moment, when Gustavo did not entertain the host with an answer.

"I am not here in any official capacity," I said. Frederic turned back to me, a faint smile forming on his pale face.

"I am just… looking for a place to start a new life."

"Running from something, or toward it?"

"Neither. Just… taking it step by step."

"I like that." He gestured lightly.

"Come with me. All of you. A new presence here… it is refreshing. I would like to show you some history."

"Excuse me, my lord, but I—" Bastien began.

"No excuses, young Laurent," Frederic cut in, still calm.

"Camille will be joining us there. You will have your conversation. And I would like to show you something your father once did for me."

"Should I?" I asked, playing unsure, gesturing lightly with my hand, as if asking whether I should follow as well. While doing so, I caught glimpses of others in the room through the painted eyes on my fingernails. People were glancing over, trying to figure out what was happening at our little table.

"Naturally," the vampire replied, already turning toward the stairs. Laurent took my hand, and I followed. Behind us, our esteemed Jesuit friend finished his wine first, kicked the table aside, and only then joined.

"Why is he acting so uncivilized in here?" I whispered to Laurent.

"Oh, he is not acting, trust me," he murmured back.

"He hates those vampires with all his soul. But he also really likes Gustavo and his lover. He has tried many times to provoke them, force their hand, make them do something evil… or at least lose control. As far as I know, they never have."

"And yet he still tries?"

"It helps him cope with the promises he made to himself. He has killed so many of them that he needs to believe they are all evil. Otherwise… he might break under the weight of it."

"I see."

"You are not going to ask?"

"Ask what?"

"Whether they are truly evil. Most people would." He glanced down as he spoke. Below us, the guests mirrored that gesture, watching us leave, their eyes following every step.

"I do not think you would have an answer to that," I said quietly.

"And I do not think it is that simple." It felt strange, how naturally the conversation drifted there, so soon after my talk with Alexa.

"Indeed," our host said from ahead of us. His voice carried back easily.

"Evil is not born in the heart. It is carried through the hands. It spreads through the acts one commits, the words one speaks. Evil is a choice. And because of that, it can be changed. What is evil however is decided universally." Bastien swallowed, realizing the vampire had heard everything. Behind us, Gustavo just laughed, drinking straight from a wine bottle he must have picked up along the way.

"Are you saying no one is truly evil? Only their actions?" I asked, unbothered by the silence around me.

"No, my dear," Frederic replied.

"By my very nature, I am a creature of evil. I was born that way, in times where my acts could be nothing else. If I wish to live, I must prey on people like you. Without the blood from that veins of yours, I would turn to dust at dawn." We reached the upper floor. A pair of large, gold-embellished doors stood before us. He pushed them open himself.

"So," he continued, stepping through, "if I were to drain one human after another, taking life after life, I would be committing evil acts. That much is clear, yes?"

"Is it evil to kill when it is necessary?" I asked, testing that line of thought, derived from Penrose's teachings.

"It is, because people, through a shared belief, make it so," he replied as we entered a hall filled with the most beautiful weapons I had ever seen. Swords—countless of them—lined the room in an almost overwhelming display. Each one had been finished down to the smallest detail, as if their makers had poured not just the craftsman skill but artistic soul into the work. Their blades shone like mirrors, catching even the faintest light and scattering it across the walls in cold, shifting reflections.

Some were marked with runes carved deep into the steel, their grooves darkened with age or pigment, while others bore intricate etched patterns that seemed to move when you looked too long. The variety was staggering. Greek xiphos with leaf-shaped blades, Roman gladii built for brutal efficiency, long medieval European swords with crossguards decorated with various patterns, just like the one Alexa took from the other vampire. Slender rapiers rested beside them with their hilts wrapped in delicate wire.

Further along hung Japanese katana and wakizashi, their curved forms radiating a quiet, disciplined beauty, each paired with lacquered scabbards that hinted at ceremony as much as combat. Some hung in perfect symmetry, others in clusters that suggested eras or cultures. But they all hung along the walls like silent guardians, watching us step inside and demanding attention.

"What do you mean by that?" I asked.

"Everyone and everything holds Authority over something, my dear. It is how that other world is shaped, and how it shapes ours in return. Through will. Through dreams and nightmares. Through tales, legends, stories. Even through simple belief. How one sees oneself, or what one believes in, gives form to things there." He walked slowly as he spoke, his voice echoing faintly among the steel.

"It is an Authority of the crowd. Of societies gathered together. A shared will of sand, stone, and sea, through which these things press their influence onto the universe. And even you, as a mage, with your Domain, more precise, more focused… you are still just a gear in that larger machine, albeit the power of change skewed in your favor." I listened, eyes drifting from blade to blade. Elle, try to establish a connection with those weapons. The art crafters and I are painting anchors for them as we speak.

Alexa's thought reached me. You want to steal them? Not now. Not even tomorrow—it would be too soon after your visit. Next week, perhaps. Let's be honest—they're wasted on those walls. Can't argue with that. I replied. Turning my focus to the blades surrounding me. The moment I declared them a work of art, an invisible shadowlight link formed between us, and my soul recognized them as such.

"How you see an idea, and how others see it, can strip it of power or grant it more. If society decides my actions are evil, then they are. And so they must change. The same applies to beings. One must be careful with their image. Shape it well. Only then, through the belief of others, can one become what they intend to be."

"That is quite the philosophy," Gustavo muttered.

"You are saying that if enough people see you as a benevolent vampire, you will become one?"

"Yes, exactly that. Societies hold shared Authority. Individually weaker than yours over your Domain, but in great numbers, they bend the universe. So, to return to my earlier point… I was a creature of evil once. I drank until people were nothing but empty husks." He paused near one of the blades, its surface catching the light.

"But I chose to change. I stopped, even when I could take more. I released those I fed on. I began protecting others from those who could not bear that same restraint. In doing so, I saw myself as something better. My actions reflected that. Others saw it too. And through their belief, through that shared will, I was reinforced in that… benevolence." I turned to him slightly.

"What if I see killing as a necessity? And enough people agree. Would that change things?"

"In time, yes," he said calmly.

"It would embolden people. The universe would no longer burden them with the sense of wrongdoing."

"That's… fascinating."

"It's nonsense they tell themselves to feel better," Gustavo chimed in.

"Isn't that right, Fred? Good and evil—both unnecessary, both confusing. God gave us laws to obey and named our sins. That should be enough. There's no need to wrestle with abstractions."

"Speaking of laws," Frederik replied, unbothered by the jab, "we need to discuss Pierre, my dear. You're aware that New Year's Eve is a festive night and, as such, extends Bohemian protection to all beings during that period, aren't you?"

"Of course," Gustavo said, his gaze snapping to our host, his jaw tightening. I felt the shift in the vampire's demeanor as well and sensed it had something to do with Alexa's actions.

"Excellent, my friend. Then explain this: on that very night, Pierre was killed in warm blood—one of our own. I expect answers." His voice carried unmistakable authority as his eyes locked onto the vampire hunter.