“I loved that old man. Without ever saying it, neither of us ever did, we both knew he had become my father and I his son. For him and his memory, I have reason enough for the cause that guides my hand and this sword.
“Except that ungodly creatures have themselves lent their weight to my motivation.
“They destroyed my childhood, took away my parents, and, in the end, killed my mother without her ever being able to say a single word to me.
“Brother Janos Karel made me swear to him on his death bed that I would never sully my own soul in patricide. He told me that it would be a terrible sin that would overshadow the great work of my life to come and so I swore to it. Fortunately, a few years later, Nash Abraxis removed such temptations himself when he died and I came into a substantial trust fund he had set aside. Apparently, it was destined for the monastery, but upon his death, the order returned the funds to me.
“Ironically, thanks to the man who forced upon me the hardest lessons of my life and gave me a reason to hunt down abomination, I am free in my task with no lack for finances to wage my war wherever I will.
“And, thanks to you, I narrowly avoided fratricide. You see, I have been following you and without fail, monsters surround you. Braze, as a wolf, would have been just one more of many creatures that I have sent to the depths of hell.”
“But, you can't mean that you would have hurt your own brother, Clement?” Sara said after a moment.
“Can't I?” replied Clement.
“In the year before he died, Brother Janos took me to a cemetery outside the monastery's grounds. It was a pitiful place, unkempt and uncared for. As if destined only for those poor souls who had no other place to rest. As if, they too, had been abandoned.
“Among the tilted and broken headstones was a simple stone cross. It was newer than the rest and was set at the head of newly turned soil. A grave recent enough that the grass had not yet grown it over like the rest of the cemetery gone wild and forgotten.
“'What am I supposed to see here?' I asked him. I was still far too impatient with that old man.
“‘It was not by hazard that the man who was your father brought you to us,” he said, “And while I do not believe he ever meant it as a kindness, it seems to me that he must have thought it a logical thing to do, considering what he knew.’
“He nodded to the unadorned grave marker and said, 'There lies a pious woman, Clement. Even if the rest of them think it wise to lay her to rest where she will be forgotten. Here where they won’t be reminded of her and her sainted life. The fools.
“‘This was a woman who took an oath to never utter another word for the rest of her days, if God would only see fit to wash the stain from her soul. For, you see, she had been marked in terrible sin. Something dark enough that it burned her through and through the rest of her days.
“‘Except that she loved the boy she saw through the wall. Despite the sin that created him, she loved him.
“‘Do you understand, Clement? She loved him and knew regret, I have no doubt, that she had sworn to never tell him.
“‘And that is piety that leaves me small in my pitiful efforts. Every monstrosity I have wiped from this world is as nothing compared to the sacrifice she made for her God and for that boy.'
“I was impatient and did not really follow what he was getting at. Not then, anyway, but eventually, what he said that day sank in.
“And when it did, the fire within me, the one that burns to destroy vampires, werewolves, or the undead, was ignited in a righteous bonfire that burns me even now to the bone.
“I've gone back to the monastery just once since I left. In that time, I had vagabonded all over Europe, mostly in the east, striking at the hearts of old world blood drinkers until I could find no more.
“Then, I turned my attention to what lay over the Atlantic, but before I left, I went back and saw to it that the little forgotten cemetery would be taken care of properly. I also replaced that poor little stone cross with one not much richer, but one that is at least inscribed with a woman's name.
“Rose Duchamps.
“She never spoke to me, but her sad eyes told me all I need to know.”
Clement’s jaw bunched as he chewed over the memories that burned within him before speaking again.
“I will kill them, Sara...anywhere I find them, I will wade through them until there is nothing left.”
The cold in his eyes had returned and seeing it, Sara felt a chill wash over her. Clement Duchamps. As he said, he was no Abraxis and that thought terrified her beyond words.
~~~
She watched him for a while.
His chest rose and fell with the easy respiration of a man at rest. A man more at ease in that moment than she had seen him yet.
Sara frowned as she thought about what Clement said and how it would take away Braze’s calm. She did not want to be the one to do that and wondered how she might set it aside for just a little longer.
Beautiful, long lashes parted to let the amber of his gaze slip through and she understood that he had not really been sleeping. Only resting.
“And why such a frown, Sara?” he asked as he lifted himself up on an elbow.
“Oh,” she said, “It’s nothing, really. Nothing that can’t wait, anyway.”
Braze smiled at her. Not a full smile but just a light upturning at the corners of his mouth.
“You would spare me, darling girl,” he said, then patted the bed.
Sara went to join him and Braze brought his face close enough to kiss then rubbed his nose across her own instead.
“There is no need. I awoke just a short time ago, but my hearing is keener than you might guess. But, not Clement. He knows full well and his words were not destined for your ears alone.”
She thought she would cry as he looked deeply into her eyes. On his face she read only his concern for her where there should have been anguish or mourning for what his father had done to him and his brother.
“I’m sorry,” she said, wanting to embrace him and console him for emotions he did not seem to feel.
“Don’t be, Sara...Clement’s story needed to be told.”
She shook her head.
“No. I’m not sorry about that. I’m sorry that you two had such an awful man for a father. How anyone could do such a thing to his own sons...well, all I know is that he must have been a very hard hearted man.”
Braze sat back from her and she saw that he looked past her into the blue outside one of the jet’s windows.
“He was,” he said at last, “As for the lies he told about Clement...I require answers.”
Sara shook her head once more.
“But, Braze, your father’s dead,” she said and wondered again if there was not something that ran askew in this beautiful man’s mind.
“I know. I also know that my father lied to both of us and I want to know why,” Braze reached out to take a curl of Sara’s hair and flipped his finger around it.
“We must convince Clement to stay with us, Sara,” he said, then turned back to her and seemed to implore her with his eyes, “I want my father to stay buried. And for that, apparently I need my brother.”
Sara wanted to reply saying that he needed to stop speaking in half phrases. His way of always talking around corners that she could not see for herself, even if it all seemed perfectly clear to him, had become worse than frustrating.
Instead, the captain’s voice spoke over the jet’s sound system requesting that they take their seats in the passenger compartment. It was time to buckle up for the landing.
For only the second time in her life, Sara felt an aircraft touch down and it was even smoother than the first time. Braze had held her hand during the descent, the two of them seated across and facing Clement. As for him, his grey eyes watched them calmly.
Sara thought, even, that his regard was a cold one. Not a word was exchanged between the two brothers, yet both seemed at ease with a situation that made her uncomfortable. The years apart that lay between them seemed a chasm which neither felt moved to breach.
Foolish, stubborn boys is what they are, Sara thought as they received word that they could unbuckle while the jet’s landing gear brakes brought them to a standstill.
The flight attendant came to open the door and lower the folding steps down to the macadam below.
A large black car that Sara recognized pulled up a short distance from them as they climbed down from the jet, but behind this was the sound of sirens in the distance. It was a sound that quickly grew in intensity to be nearly deafening as three police squad cars, their rooftop lights flashing, drove up and blocked their way to the black limousine.
Braze stepped in front of Sara as the policemen got out of their cars, the siren coming to an abrupt halt while the lights continued to revolve and flash.
“Excuse me, sir,” one of the humorless men in uniform said then while looking over Braze’s shoulder at Sara.
“Sara Renardine? You are wanted for questioning in the investigation of the homicides of Frederick Jenkins and Mary Fresci.”
His voice was hard. Like an automaton that had said some slight variation of the same phrase a thousand times over.
“Wait,” Sara said, “What are you talking about? I don’t know anything about those people.”
Barely moving his lips, the officer who had spoken replied, “I’m afraid that we have information to the contrary, Miss Renardine. Mr. Jenkins was the owner and manager of the Sunside Hotel, your current place of residence. Mrs. Fresci was a secretary at the Carlson Temporary Employment agency.”