Chapter Text
There’s something about Saint Denis that makes her feel observed, like somebody watching her every step. Maybe it was Arthur who told her to be extra careful around these streets. Or was it Charles? Telling her there’s darkness surrounding Saint Denis, even worse than the deep swamp of Lagras.
She can’t remember, and she never quite believed them until seeing it for herself.
“One more,” Sadie tells the barman. He pours her a third glass of whiskey with a smirk. Sadie arches an eyebrow, and he takes a glance at the window.
“It’s gettin’ dark, Mrs. Adler.”
As soon as he shuts his mouth, shouting echoes behind them. Two drunk fellers throwing punches over poker. One breaks a bottle of beer on the other man’s head. A lady with a hat covering her face storms through the exit door, calling for the law who’s patrolling the streets.
Sadie merely looks over her shoulder. She finishes her drink in one gulp, throws the barman two coins, and says, “You worry ‘bout your saloon first, Louis.”
She walks past the fight, heading outside. She’s growing old and tired, and her bones aren’t as resistant as they once were. She feels them going rigid as the cold breeze touches her skin. Now, staying at the saloon feels like a valid option, but years on the road turned Sadie into a woman who only feels comfortable on a cheap bed and under even cheaper sheets.
Luckily, she knows of an old inn located near the cathedral. She wouldn’t be bothered there, or even recognized.
Hera waits for her across the sidewalk. Sadie pats her on the neck and mutters, “Let’s go, girl. We need some rest.”
Sadie tries to avoid the empty streets; Saint Denis works better with crowds and loud voices. However, the further south she goes, the emptier the streets become. She pulls a watch out of her pocket. It’s past midnight. Sadie tightens her grip on the reins and sharpens her eyesight.
She spots a man lazily resting against the wheel of a wagon; his hat slightly tilted, booze in his hand. This is where she usually hitches her horse, facing an alley across from the south wall of the cathedral. She hops off Hera and approaches the wagon with her hand hovering over her holster.
There’s blood on the floor and on the wall, a mark of a hand that clearly fought against whoever did this.
“I wouldn’t stay here if I were you, miss,” the man babbles, catching her attention.
“What’d you say?” She steps closer.
“Mons-” He passes out halfway through. The bottle of gin slips from his grip and rolls down the sidewalk.
Sadie hears a strangled sound coming from the alley. Her hand immediately drops to her revolver as she heads carefully toward the sound, following a dark path that leads her to the opposite end of the courtyard. The scene before her eyes stops her dead in her tracks.
A woman, or something resembling a woman, sucking a poor bastard's neck dry.
Sadie's eyes widen at the sight. With quick reflex, she draws her revolver and points it at the woman.
“Stop whatever it is that you're doin’, you freak,” Sadie says. Her voice carries a confidence that her hands, now trembling, do not.
The woman snaps her head toward the sound of her voice like a predator anticipating the presence of a hunter.
The corpse slides from her grasp and crumples onto the ground with a thud. The woman rises slowly, lips dark and wet, pale skin, lantern light from the street catching strangely in her eyes.
Her mouth parts as she grins. Full teeth and two fangs on display.
Sadie gulps and tightens her grip on the gun. She's read about creatures like her. Five cents for a little pamphlet featuring a tale of blood-sucking monsters and their victims. Folks call them vampires.
“Step away from ‘im,” she says, firmer now. “Ain't like me to repeat myself.”
“Best not to care for him,” the vampire shrugs, raising both of her hands. “Darling William here is just an alcoholic who enjoys beating his dear wife on the weekends,” she finishes with a pout.
A French accent, Sadie notices. Like most folks in Saint Denis.
The vampire takes a cautious step further, and the revolver clicks under Sadie's thumb.
“One more step and I promise this bullet is hittin’ your skull.”
A throaty laugh escapes from the vampire's mouth.
“So courageous,” the vampire says, studying her. Her gaze moves carefully over Sadie's stance, her arms, her neck. “Most people run. Or scream. Or both.”
“Most people ain't me.”
And the amused grin on the vampire's face only grows wider by the second. A second that secretly turns into eternity. Time stops for a moment, Sadie feels it before she understands it. The sudden absence of movement or life itself.
She tries pulling the trigger, but her finger won't move. She tries screaming, but her mouth stays shut.
She can hear her own heart hammering against her chest. She can hear the agonizing sound of boots, the vampire marching slowly toward her.
“Oh, I know… Sadie.”
And she can hear her voice inside her head.
It's a rather confusing sensation, feeling panic rising in your skin and not being able to stop it.
How'd she know my name? Sadie wonders.
“I simply do,” the vampire steps closer. A dark cloak trailing freely behind her, her lips not moving. She adds,
“Don't be frightened. I'm not going to hurt you.”
What separates Sadie from the fairytale monster in front of her is the revolver, pressed hard against the vampire's chest.
And yet, close enough for her to reach out and touch her cheek. Sadie was never quite the religious type, not even when her mother would take her to church on Sundays. But now, standing face to face with the devil, she wonders if God is watching.
“So strange… I feel like we have met before. I remember your face, the scar above your eye.”
She presses her thumb over said scar and Sadie swallows hard, shivering under the cool touch. The vampire is close, too close. Sadie can see the red of her eyes, the waves of her dark hair falling over her shoulders.
The vampire almost looks human. Sadie wonders, too, if they have met before.
A sudden change crosses the vampire's face. A strange melancholy takes over her features.
“So full of sorrow, so full of grief. Much was taken from you.”
She caresses Sadie's cheek one last time before letting her hand drop. She reaches into the pocket of her dress and pulls out a business card.
The vampire carefully places the card in the small valley between Sadie's waistcoat and shirt.
“I hope we meet again.”
Only then does the world return to its rotation, and the clock begins ticking again. The vampire, however, has disappeared.
Sadie coughs like she's been choking, bringing her hand to her neck. She glances around with her vision slightly blurred as she pushes down the urge to throw up.
There's only her and the corpse in that alley.
Once Sadie recovers her breath, her hand finds the card before her mind even registers it. She almost tosses it away at first, wishing to forget the events of that night.
But the name sitting in the center of elegant paper sparks her curiosity.
C. Camille de Clermont