Angelus had spent the day asleep in the cellar apartment he kept in the city centre, the doors locked and barred, and he woke as the last rays of the sun shone their redness across the rooftops. He chose to sleep in a normal bed, the room being dark enough without need for more extreme, or traditional, bedchambers, and now he lay between the crisp linen sheets for a second before swinging his legs out of the bed and getting dressed.
He dressed with particular care that evening, choosing his best shirt with lace collars and a velvet jacket under his coat. He anticipated that the Slayer would turn up again, and despite the tedious inevitability of a fight, he wanted to look his best.
Finally ready, with his hair tied back with a black velvet ribbon, Angelus set out.
* * *
Across the city, the door of Laure de St. Jean’s house was also being carefully locked, the Chairman and Amédée looking on as she hid the key away. They had all dressed in comfortable, warm, dark clothes, and shared the same nervous look. Laure was carrying her thickest, strongest stake, gripping it firmly; she had given similar weapons to the two men, and all three of them were carrying crosses.
They walked close together along the street, a strange trio – the young man and the old flanking the girl, taking determined strides. Nobody said anything. They had decided over their meal to go directly to the park where Laure and Angelus had met before, expecting the vampire to do the same, so there was no need for speech.
The park was empty and silent. Laure led the way to the clearing, and they stood and waited, each peering into the shadows as if to try and spy out movement. Their senses were alert and awake, yet none of them heard Angelus come until he was standing only ten metres behind them. He coughed politely.
“Ahem.”
Laure spun around, her stake raised.
“You came.”
“So did you,” he replied. “Won’t you introduce me, mademoiselle?”
Laure was bewildered for a second, and then she indicated Amédée.
“My Watcher, Amédée Simon. And this is the Chairman of the Council. Come all the way from England to watch you break up into a million pieces.”
“You’ll have to be sure not to disappoint him, then, won’t you?” Angelus bowed slightly to the men. “I’m honoured, messieurs. To what do I owe this pleasure?”
“To Jacques Boudin!” said the Chairman, breathing quickly.
“I don’t believe I know him,” Angelus said, looking slightly puzzled.
“You killed him, you devil.”
Angelus thought for a moment.
“Priest? Quite old, white hair?”
The Chairman could only nod.
“Yes, I think you’re right. He reported me to you. I’d have thought he’d have known more about my kind, then – he invited me in to his house, Chairman. He was very helpful. And quite tasty, too – bit on the thin side, but age does that to humans.”
Amédée caught the Chairman’s arm in time to stop him lunging forwards.
“Shhh, sir, let Laure deal with him.”
The Chairman’s face twisted, but he relaxed slightly. Angelus went to sit down on the bench, his movements graceful with a coiled strength, like an animal. Laure followed every one. There was a heavy silence, during which Angelus watched each one of the humans, his eyes flickering between them. Finally Amédée spoke.
“Mind if I ask a question?”
“Be my guest,” Angelus replied, turning his dark eyes on the Watcher.
“Why do you work alone?”
“Why?” Angelus appeared to consider the question carefully. “I suppose because I have not yet found anyone I want to spend my time with. A young vampire has to be taught, monsieur, you should know that. I’m afraid I don’t have the patience for that. When I finally meet someone … worthy of being remade, then I’ll do it.”
“You won’t get a chance,” Laure said vehemently. “You know as well as I do that tonight was your last hunting night. Tonight you’re dust.”
Angelus tipped his head slightly on one side, as if listening.
“As for you, mademoiselle, you’re scared again. Your heart’s irregular. Perhaps you should get it looked at? And you’re wrong, too. Last night was my last hunting night. I haven’t fed this evening. I’m hungry.” He licked his lips.
Laure took a step back, involuntarily. The Chairman gripped his stake, and Amédée sighed. They all knew that this fact made Angelus doubly dangerous, for his control over his human side would gradually fail, making him all vampire, all monster, with a thirst for blood.
The Slayer gathered all her courage together and went back towards the vampire.
“Let me send them away,” she said softly, “and then let’s get it over with. One of us will die tonight, Angelus. No running away. Which I found cowardly, by the way.”
He held up his hands in mock-surrender.
“I know – dreadfully cowardly. I knew you would bring your Watcher, mademoiselle. You decided you couldn’t stake me without him. Sending him away would be a great mistake and you know it.”
There was another heavy silence, as Laure weighed up his words. Angelus stood up, straightening his clothes, his eyes glinting darkly in the light from the nearby gas lamp. At that moment Laure did feel like running; running far away from her fate, running away from this suave, handsome demon, running from Paris back to the small village where she had been born, running from Amédée, from the Chairman – running, in fact, from herself.
Amédée came up behind her, and put his hand on her shoulder.
“Enough talking, Laure?”
“Enough talking. Amédée, thank you. In case … in case I never get a chance to say it again. Thank you for looking after me.”
“It’s my job. You do yours and I do mine. And we make a good team. Think back, Laure, think of all that dust.” Amédée indicated Angelus. “He’s a pile of dust in the making. We’re both here to back you up. Kill him.”
Laure nodded, and impetuously put her arms around her Watcher and hugged him.
“Let’s go for it,” she said, and flung herself into action.
She had hoped to catch her enemy off-guard, but he was ready for her onslaught. The blows and punches came thick and fast from both parties, each more than mortally strong and quick. Laure found her smallness useful in keeping her hits low, but once again the dress hampered her, and in a fit of anger she tore off the material of her over-skirt whilst circling Angelus warily. He had changed his face as she attacked, and his yellow eyes met her blue ones like the eyes of a wild animal.
Laure kicked the dress away, reaching for her stake, but again Angelus anticipated her movement and caught her arm as it came up, twisting savagely so that Laure could hear the bone snap as the stake dropped out of her hand. She screamed, and the vampire growled, deep in his throat.
“Laure!” Amédée shouted, but it was the Chairman who moved first. With a speed belying his age, the old man ran forward, stake raised, and leaped on Angelus from behind. The enraged vampire let go of Laure’s hand and turned, shaking the Englishman from his back. The Chairman, flat on the ground, held the stake in one hand and a cross in the other.
“Kill me first, monster.”
Behind Angelus Laure was lying in a semi-faint from the pain of her wrist, seeing the vampire’s form in a haze. Dimly she saw him move.
Amédée saw it clearly, standing as he was ten paces back, frozen on the spot. He saw, as if in a dream, Angelus’ foot strike out, knocking the stake from the Chairman’s hand. The Chairman tried to grasp the vampire’s ankle, but Angelus was too quick, as he reached down and around the cross, hand in a claw, and ripped out the old man’s throat with his long fingernails. Blood poured out of the wound, the life force of the Chairman running into the French soil, and Angelus bent down over the body. Amédée looked away in horror, tears running down his cheek. And then hatred rose up in him, and he threw his inbred Watcher’s caution to the wind.
Laure’s faintness had passed, and she was sitting up, groping for the stake with her unbroken left hand, when Amédée flew past her, straight for Angelus. His sudden rush caught the vampire off-balance, and the two hit the ground fighting. Amédée had the advantage for only a second, but in that second his hands had found a grip around Angelus’ cold neck, and the vampire and the human were face to face. Angelus was using his teeth to snap at Amédée, the eyes boring into the Watcher’s mild grey pair, and Amédée’s attempts to throttle the vampire were failing. In his anger, Amédée Simon had forgotten the most basic fact about his enemy. Death means you do not breathe.
He recalled this as Angelus brought his knees up, pushed, and swung over so Amédée was underneath. Dimly he remembered his stake, tucked into his waistband, and he let go of Angelus’ neck to grab it and finish the job at hand.
“Angelus!” Laure was on her feet, pale and determined, the stake in her hand once more.
Amédée managed to get the stake out of his waistband, Angelus’ attention torn between the Slayer and the Watcher. Laure saw the movement, and nodded at her mentor, telling him to stake the vampire.
He brought the stake up.
Laure moved closer to the pair, boxing Angelus in between herself and Amédée. Angelus, half-bent over, looked swiftly between them. He made his decision as quickly as Laure made hers.
Like a flash his right hand shot out, seizing the pointed end of Amédée’s stake, turning it and plunging it into the Watcher’s side. Amédée let out a roar of pain, and Angelus straightened.
“Now for you!” he snarled, and leapt at Laure.
She parried and feinted, using the wooden stick as a sort of sword, her breath coming in short, sharp gasps. He made no sound as he fought, moving naturally and almost gracefully. Laure’s tiredness and mental exhaustion soon told, and her right hand had swollen to twice its normal size. Thrice she staggered, and the fourth time she tripped and fell in a heap on the floor.
He was on to her instantly, snatching the stake and snapping it easily in half, and then he lifted her easily and carried her over to the bench, where he sat down. Laure lay in his arms limply. From a distance they would have looked like a couple embracing each other.
Laure stared up at the demonic face above her, watching as Angelus shifted his features back to the severe beauty of his human countenance. He smiled wickedly down at her.
“Here we are, then, Slayer. Just you and me.”
“Kill me now and make an end,” she pleaded, wishing for nothing more than rest. Angelus frowned.
“Nothing you want to say? No messages for your Watcher over there?”
“He’s …”
“He’s still living,” Angelus told her. “I can hear his heart beating. Faintly.”
“We said it all. Kill me, damn you!”
“Mmmm.” He sounded like a guest at a ball, content and satisfied with his lot. “You fought well, mademoiselle. I hope your successor is as worthy of the post.”
“And the one after her and the one after that, until finally someone kills you for good,” Laure spat. “As long as there are vampires, there will be Slayers, Angelus, and if I see anything with my last breaths, it is that Slayers will play an important part in your existence.” She closed her eyes. “Do it.”
Angelus nodded. Gently he took hold of Laure’s loose hair, and pushed it away from her face. Then, as he became in feature a vampire once more, his nail cut a cross in her cheek, and he bent his head and drank.
Laure’s last moments were ones of confusion fading into blackness, followed by a series of clear pictures, hurrying along. Not her life.
She saw a globe of crystal shining with blue fire, and then a dark street, with unfamiliar orange lighting. Then the people came rushing at her, out of nothing into nothing. A girl her age, with blonde hair and large eyes, slim and petite, holding a stake. A group of young people – a red-haired, earnest girl, a tall humorous boy, a beautiful girl with long hair. A man in a strange outfit with eyes she recognised; Amédée’s. And with a start, as her life faded away, Laure saw Angelus, saw him turn and smile at someone, saw the depth of love in his eyes – and then came the flash of light, and nothing.
Angelus laid the empty, pale body down on the bench, and rearranged her clothes. He took a handkerchief out of a pocket and wiped his lips as he walked away, becoming once more a fashionable young gentleman out for a midnight stroll. Walking away into the future. It would be 160 years before he thought of Laure de St. Jean again.
* * *
A girl found the bodies as the sun came up. The old man, his face twisted in a soundless scream; the young man, one hand clutching his side, in which stood a wooden stake; and the girl lying on the bench as if asleep, an expression of slight surprise on her face, as though she had met someone she had not expected to.
THE END.
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