Caitlyn

Although Paris in many ways happened to be a city full of light and love, it also had its share of darkness. Beneath a vibrant and bustling city lay a labyrinth of former quarries, which now held the remains of over six million Parisians. Those remains had been relocated in the late 18^th century after a decision to close all cemeteries within the city’s limits to protect public health. That was the official number, logged in many historical records, but deep inside the caverns where no tourist had permission to step foot in, were the remains of thousands more poor souls who ventured into the Catacombs never to see the light of day again.

The quarries under the city had always housed her sire’s home, the monster masking his underground mansion in the complex tunnels that ran throughout the Catacombs. Hidden within plain sight, chambers off to the side of the main tourist footpath led to rooms even unknown by the humans who worked within the Catacombs. A simple slide of mirrors as her sire once said of it, with sentries at every entrance ready to compel away anyone who should wander into places they should not.

Having waited an entire day, most of it spent pacing around her rented apartment, Caitlyn stood in the pre-booked line for access to the Catacombs. Dusk had crept in slowly and her patience had been wearing thin. Left alone with her memories and the ghosts of the past for company, she teetered on the fringes of madness as she readied herself to face down the monster.

Despite the lateness in the evening, crowds still gathered along the street Place Denfert-Rochereau in the hopes they too might get the chance to wander the magnificent wonders that lay beneath such a tranquil city. People from all walks of life—Americans, Australians, Dutch, Irish, British—all queued for hours upon hours for the chance of viewing the underground city of bones.

Her queue, however, had been a little more intelligent and purchased tickets in advance, enabling them to skip the lengthy line of tourists and have a less lengthy wait time. For Caitlyn, who could have used many ways into the Catacombs unknown to the humans, it allowed her time to clear her mind and mentally prepare for what might be her last day on this earth.

When the line began to move forward, Caitlyn went with it, her attire blending in with the mass of bodies. Dressed in black jeans, black top, and a black leather jacket, the only thing missing from her normal workwear were her heeled boots or shoes. Instead, she had on a pair of Converse sneakers for traipsing around the limestone quarries. When it came her turn to show a ticket, Caitlyn halted in front of the vampire checking tickets and gave a little flash of fang and said in her native tongue, “He who worships at the feet of the first shall be rewarded upon rebirth.”

“Blessed be the first of us,” the male replied before ushering her by.

Not bothering with the audio device, Caitlyn strode on, slipping in between some of the tourists until she came to the stone steps. As she descended the 131 stone steps, Caitlyn didn’t stop to partake in the history of the quarries that the tourists lapped up. Instead, she kept on moving through, until she came to the way that would lead them into the darkness of the Catacombs.

A narrow walkway encased in darkness beckoned her forward, her vampire eyes adjusting within seconds. The enclosed walkway seemed to go on forever, the roof mere inches from her head, the walls on either side of her a hair’s breadth within reaching distance. She thought of how difficult it would be for Donnie, all broad shoulders and muscular frame, to meander down the passage. But thinking of Donnie now would only distract her from the task at hand.

The texture of the limestone walls was silky smooth to touch, and Caitlyn had to pause many a time, the walkway uneven, as the American tourists in front of her stumbled in the dimly light passage. At one point, the elderly gentleman slipped and would have fallen if not for Caitlyn reaching out to steady him.

“Merci.”

Caitlyn gave him a brief nod, but continued without saying a word. The slow pace delayed her just a tad, but finally the narrow passageway gave way to a wider cavern where she halted to gaze above her.

The entrance vestibule to the Ossuary, located 14.34 meters below the city, held a sight for many a patron to pause and reflect. Adorned above the entrance an engraved alexandrine rhyme read, “Arrête! C’est ici l’empire de la mort”. “Halt! This here is the empire of death.”

The words, originally penned by poet Jacques Delille, were a reminder to those who traversed through the Catacombs of the millions of bones that lined the area they were about to cross into once they stepped over the threshold. Caitlyn understood what the abbot was trying to say. Her sire had coveted those who were special and unique, from poets to musicians, to artists and the beautiful. Once Jacques Delille had witnessed the depravity and monstrosity of the vampires under his care had caused, he had been spurned to warn those who read into the meaning behind his words; those who chose to understand his warning.

Cracking the muscles in her neck, Caitlyn peered up at the stone etched warning and continued with her pursuit. Although she had witnessed the Catacombs’ full experience on numerous occasions, the sheer intensity of death that hit you upon first appearance made your heart skip a beat.

As you entered the Ossuary, you walked between two long walls containing long bones such as tibias and femurs, leading down until craniums became visible. The ohhing and ahhing of the tourists around her was not surprising, for it was a magnificent sight to behold. The artistry and technique used to manipulate the bones into something elegant and hauntingly stunning, with skulls in a heart-shaped decoration along the way. There was also an ornate stone cross surrounded by more craniums. It was only when you had the opportunity to gaze upon piece after piece of bone that you began to realize how many people’s bones were buried there.

Making her way past the walls and walls of bones, Caitlyn hustled her way toward the part of the Catacombs she was looking for. The Samaritan Fountain was a feature that was created to collect water that fell to the ground. As a young vampire, Caitlyn knew of the well as the “Spring of Forgetfulness” in acknowledgement of the mythological river of Hades. But now, The Samaritan Fountain got its name from a biblical verse about the woman of Samaria and the words Jesus spoke to her, “Whosoever drinketh of this water shall thirst again: But whosoever drinketh of the water that I shall give him shall never thirst; but the water that I shall give him shall be in him a well of water springing up into everlasting life.”

This inscription of the verse in Caitlyn’s native tongue adorned the pillar behind the fountain. But Caitlyn, who had once believed in a true and just God and his workings, didn’t find it in herself to believe that God cared anymore about the people of this earth. Because if God was true, then he had set a monster upon the world and left them to their own devices.

Caitlyn lingered by the fountain until she stood alone and the nearest heartbeat from behind a good distance away, then she climbed over the edge of the fountain. Bending over, she grasped the steel of the grate that prevented anyone from falling in and gave it a sharp tug. It came away easily and she slipped through, the grate sliding back into place as she free fell down a couple of hundred yards before her Converse hit solid ground.

Putting a hand in front of her to steady herself after her descent, Caitlyn rose and made her way quickly through one of the secret passages. Rounding the corner, she came upon a vampire standing guard at a steel door. He wore the typical dark robes of the sire’s minions, the most devout of those donning the robes in a sense of adoration, relinquishing their hold on worldly possessions in tribute to their ‘Father’. A hood hid his face from Caitlyn and from the scent of the male she ascertained he was a newish vampire in his sixth or seventh decade as an immortal, and she had been long gone before his time had come to serve under their deity.

“Where is he?” Caitlyn questioned in French and repeated in English in case the vampire didn’t speak the native tongue.

“My lady,” he began to answer, his tone indicating that the vampire knew of her.

“Answer me,” she snarled.

“I am not permitted to answer you.”

Caitlyn whipped out the dagger attached to a strap on her waist and had it at the vampire’s neck before he had a chance to blink. “Then open the door and I will find out for myself. And before you say a word, I outrank you in the hierarchy, under our very laws you are blood bound to obey me.”

Before the vampire could respond, the door opened on its own. Caitlyn shoved the vampire aside, knowing full well he would soon be upright and able to carry out his duties once more.

If she had been human, her heart would be pounding in her chest, her palms would be sweaty, and the blood rushing around due to adrenaline would be ringing in her ears. But she was not human, had not been so for over three hundred years. Caitlyn was calm and collected as she told herself, I’m going into that house to take him down. To take all of them down.

Caitlyn ducked inside, leaving the young vampire to his duties. The absence of light meant nothing to her, for she had been reborn into darkness and it had become her friend. Caitlyn heard the whistle of something moving quickly and readied herself for attack. The blade sank into her chest before she could dodge it, but the biting pain reminded her that she was more human than some of her counterparts.

Pulling the blade from her chest, Caitlyn tossed the blade to the floor with a clang and smiled into the dark. “Was that supposed to hurt? Seriously, Esme. I thought you would have learned by now that those of us who bore his unique version of love do not fear a little knife to the chest.”

“I was always loyal, traitor. Those who are loyal flourish under his reign. Those who are not, perish under his wrath.”

Esme came into view then, as slender as Caitlyn remembered her. A plain looking face with eyes too big for her rounded face, her hairstyle only amplifying the oddity of her features. Mousey brown hair pulled back severely into a beehive like style that the old French aristocracy liked to wear, but Esme had been far from aristocracy when she had been human. Esme had been changed into a vampire not by Caitlyn’s maker, but by one of her blooded brothers who happened to like how Esme knew her way around a man’s cock.

“I am verily shocked to see you upright, Esme. Did you not know your place was on your back?”

“Shut up!” the other vampire snarled.

“Or was it face down that men preferred you?” Caitlyn mused.

“Bitch, I’ll kill you!”

Esme could never rein in her temper and that was why Caitlyn was baiting her.

“Chérie, I’m already dead.”

Caitlyn grasped the handle of her own dagger a little tighter as she inched closer to Esme. “Tell me where he is, and I will spare your pathetic little life.”

A sardonic smile crept over Esme’s face. “Sire is not here. He took a vacation, possibly the south of France to a vineyard. Oh no, that was last month when he slewed Marcel’s family for him disobeying an order.”

It was not the first time Caitlyn had seen that smile of a woman who liked to witness pain inflicted upon others. When she had been made undead, her refusal to bow down to the desires and whims of her maker angered him to no end and then he unleashed Markus upon her while Esme watched.

The silver spiked restraints bit into her arms, going straight through her flesh and bone and holding her arms in place as the spike dug into the wooden arm of the chair. Seated in the middle of the dinner room, her legs and ankles tied to the wooden chair, Caitlyn stared blankly up at the face of her torturer. She wasn’t sure how long they’d driven the silver spikes into her flesh, and soon enough she ceased to care, her determination to not betray any weakness the only reason why she still held on.

Markus enjoyed his work. The vampire who usually walked with a sullen expression on his face grinned so hard that his fangs showed. His sheer pleasure as he inflicted pain was evident from the bulge in his trousers.

Esme traced her fingers down Caitlyn’s bare arm and proceeded to lick the blood that stained her fingertips. As she came to stand beside Markus, she caressed his chest with her free hand and sighed.

“She is determined.”

“And that is why I chose her for my queen.”

They turned to face their king, his angelic face masking the monster that lurked beneath the surface.

“She still won’t comply,” grunted Markus.

“Drive another spike into her. She will break; they always do.”

Markus did as requested of him, with Caitlyn welcoming the agony that came as the silver burned her flesh. Turning her attention from Markus to the sire, Caitlyn studied Esme as she pressed her back against his chest and bared her neck. As Markus drove another spike into her skin, a scream began to build deep inside her. Their self-proclaimed king struck out with his fangs. Esme groaned, but her eyes were on Caitlyn the whole time as the king caressed Esme’s breast from behind, lifted up her skirts, and entered in one fluid movement.

Esme’s moan of pleasure echoed throughout the room, causing Markus to shift the bulge in his pants. He whirled around and lashed out, digging two spikes simultaneously into Caitlyn’s already broken arms. She could no longer hold back the scream that had been building in the back of her throat and released it, the sheer sound of pain that ripped from her blending in with the fornicating couple’s cries of passion.

Caitlyn blinked away the memories, ones she had buried deep inside but had broken through her resolve since arriving in Paris. Anger, cold and coiled in its rapid progression throughout her body, cast her back into the ice-cold assassin she used to be. Striking out with precision and accuracy, like a cobra who had spied its prey and found the right time to attack, Caitlyn whipped the dagger out and embedded it in Esme’s neck.

The other vampire screamed, and the sounds of footsteps thundered down the hallway. Caitlyn wasted no time in yanking the blade free as Esme lunged, her talon like nails reaching out to scratch Caitlyn on the face. Easily swatting Esme’s hands away, she failed to dodge Esme’s knee to the stomach. Esme had learned to fight since Caitlyn had fled Paris. Once upon a time, Esme had feared Caitlyn because of her ability to defend herself and would not come alone to see Caitlyn unless she was restrained or subdued.

But while Caitlyn used her anger as motivation, Esme didn’t have the skillset to channel her rage as a weapon. She lashed out with survival in mind, alas, her fate was already sealed. Caitlyn twisted her body and in a tumble of limbs, she held Esme’s neck in a choke hold. Using all of her strength, Caitlyn snapped Esme’s neck, the sickening crunch not fazing her one bit.

This would not end Esme’s second life. With dagger in her hand, Caitlyn made quick work as she sawed through tissue and bone, until Esme’s head separated from her body. Caitlyn tossed the severed head to the ground as Esme’s body began withering. But it didn’t dissipate to ash. None of those over the age of a hundred became ash after their second death. They merely returned to the corpse they should have been if the curse of vampirism had not taken hold.

The stain of Esme’s blood coated her clothing and skin, the streaks painting a picture of horror on her face. The guards rounded the corner, caught sight of Caitlyn and the body at her feet, and sank to the ground on one knee, two fingers pressed to their foreheads as a sign of respect to the queen they believed her to be.

“Where is he?” she demanded as they continued to kneel.

A young vampire at the front of the hundred-strong ensemble rose and replied, “He left the Catacombs a mere few hours ago, right after sunset. We do not know where he went or when he will return.”

A few of his fellow soldiers glanced at him with indifference in their eyes, perhaps because the legends of her and their sire’s past were whispered about over the centuries.

“Do not spin me any lies, little vampire. If I find out he was here and you lied, your screams will echo throughout the combs for decades.”

The vampire, with skin of a warm beige, held her gaze with no hint of fear. “I speak no lies, my lady. I am one reborn of Marcel and I would not lie to the one he calls his sire. If he should return to this place, I will have word sent to Marcel.”

Hands on her hips, Caitlyn asked of the young man, “Why would you go behind his back? Why would any of you do something that may incur his wrath?”

“Because every person deserves to be free, even us.”

Caitlyn bowed her head to the vampire, understanding the words he spoke. They believed she could save them, that she could free them all. As one by one the vampires rose and walked away from her, Caitlyn backed away herself, still unable to trust, but quickly and quietly she escaped the Catacombs without having to step foot into the place where she had been tortured and unmade.

The journey back to her apartment passed by in a blur as weariness engulfed Caitlyn, the adrenaline that had been coursing through her in anticipation of her own demise draining away. Soon she was in the lift and wondering how she would track him down now. Sliding the key card into the slot, the door to the apartment opened to darkness. The only light shining through the window was the illumination form the Eiffel Tower.

Maybe, if she had not been so distracted, Caitlyn would have scented the presence in the apartment. Even as a hand wrapped around her throat and her back was pressed up against the wall, surprise rolled through her, and her body trembled at the closeness of him.

“You fucking left me.”

The words, spoken in a tone of pure possessiveness and subdued aggression caused her to sigh and lock gazes with the man who had turned her life upside down over twenty years