After the war, Marcel and Claudette decanted their nephew from his thermos and raised him as their own. A bright and cheerful boy, young Arjan would go on to be the father of Odette and Alessio and a respected paleontologist, though not in that order. For Marcel and Claudette, four other children followed in their own time, although only the youngest would become a member of the Broederschap.
Marcel resumed his studies with the Grafters, partly as a way to honor his parents and partly because he felt he needed to make up for the loss of Siegbert. In the Leliefeld home at Roeselare, grandchildren played with a reclaimed (and un-aged) Chloe. It turned out that Marcel’s parents had heeded their estranged son’s warnings and placed the dog in a stasis of her own in a bank vault in Switzerland, along with all their notes and artwork. Marcel and Claudette continued their work until Claudette passed away. “Only three years ago,” Marcel said.
“The woman who killed your brother, and your relations...” began Felicity.
“Yes?”
“Did you ever find out about her? Where she came from? Why she wanted to kill your people?”
“Actually, yes,” said Marcel. “After the war was over, I returned to Paris and spent some time tracking down her history. It wasn’t easy, but I was very curious.”
“I imagine so,” said Felicity.
“I found where she had been living,” said Marcel. “No one had entered the place in years. It contained various upsetting things: A sort of mangle that was stained with blood. Human bones. Large containers of blood and other fluids. But nothing was as upsetting as the journals I found.”
Her name was Béatrice Mermier. Born to farmers in the northwestern part of France, she had apparently enjoyed a relatively ordinary childhood. The only thing that stood out about her, the only odd thing her neighbors could remember, was that she did not like to eat anything except meat. No fruit, no vegetables — she simply couldn’t stand them. But her life continued normally enough, even when her parents passed away and she sold the farm and moved into town.
At the age of twenty-four, however, she had woken up one morning possessed by a ravenous hunger and tortured by the scent of something unutterably delicious. Her body was shaking, and she was actually drooling. She emptied the larder and devoured a haunch of lamb, but nothing would satiate the gnawing emptiness inside her. All the while, there was that smell, driving her frantic, leading her out of her house to the door of the slightly startled neighbors.
They welcomed her in, and she apologized for disturbing them, it was just that... she didn’t quite know. She couldn’t explain it. She was so hungry. The wife, knowing her tastes, brought her some sausage and watched as she ate it. Béatrice thanked her, still looking around for the source of that tantalizing smell. Then she kissed her neighbor’s cheek and tasted her sweat.
“She wrote that it was like lightning in her mouth,” said Marcel. “The most delicious thing in the world. She couldn’t stop herself from tearing the woman apart.” Suddenly, she had a strength that she’d never known, a strength so great that she tore the neighbor to pieces with her hands. The husband came at her with a knife and she screamed, instinctively. He reeled back, clutching at his head.
“I know the feeling,” remarked Marcel. “She wrote that most people just felt the pain. But her voice had a terrible effect on members of the Broederschap — something she discovered later. It seemed to liquefy some of the crucial components in our augmentations.”
After Béatrice murdered her neighbors, she fled to Paris, thinking it would be easier to hunt and avoid notice in a large city. A lifetime’s upbringing in the Catholic faith had been swiftly jettisoned, replaced by the glorious high that came from other people’s fluids, that lightning in the mouth. She was completely untroubled by what she had become, and it was not clear if her lack of concern was a result of her physiology or just plain wickedness. Regardless, she stalked the arrondissements of Paris, taking people when she hungered. After the first murder, that terrible hunger had ebbed a little — she could go weeks without feasting. But then she encountered a Grafter in a café and was entranced by the unique savor of his perspiration.
“It seems we were addictive to her,” said Marcel. Some elements of the Grafter technology made them absolutely irresistible to Béatrice’s already monstrous palate. “She tracked Cousin Jean-Baptiste from the café back to his house and bled him out in his bathtub. After that, she tracked down the other Parisian members of the Broederschap by scent. Well, scent and the contents of their address books. I gather that once she’d drained all Siegbert’s blood, she was going to tap his spine, brain, bones, and bladder for everything they contained, and then, after a couple of days of bingeing on Siegbert-extract, she’d be on to the next one of us.”
“Charming,” remarked Felicity.
“She was terrifying,” confessed Marcel. “But my point is this, Pawn Clements. I have no doubt that if Béatrice Mermier had been born in this country, she’d have been recruited into the Checquy.”
“Or killed by us,” pointed out Felicity defensively. In her secret heart, she felt a stab of pity for the long-dead woman with the uncontrollable hunger and no one to help her. The thought of coming into your powers and being enslaved by them was very frightening to her. Thank God the Checquy found me.
“Yes,” he said grimly. “It seems that the line can be very thin between the monsters and the ones that protect us from the monsters.”
“And monsters killed Miss Leliefeld’s friends?” asked Felicity hesitantly. He nodded slightly.
“They were murdered in front of her,” he said. “In broad daylight. They were all staying at a beach house in Marseille, and a thing came in the back door and tore them apart. Odette only just escaped with her life.” Felicity’s eyes opened wide. “She was able to summon help, and when our people arrived, all they found was the scent of oranges and a series of bloody footprints going out the back door and across the sand into the ocean. No explanation of who did it or why.”
“You’re sure the attackers were supernatural?” asked Felicity.
He nodded. “We are not talking about defenseless victims,” said Marcel. “All of them had augmentations that provided them with inhuman strength and agility as well as concealed weaponry.” Felicity nodded, thinking of Leliefeld’s deadly little spurs. “One of them was my youngest son, Dieter.”
“I’m so sorry for your loss,” said Felicity, horrified.
“Thank you. It has been difficult for all of us, but Odette was left significantly scarred, both emotionally and physically. The loss of her dearest friends has been extremely painful for her, but most especially the death of her lover. Alessio knows to avoid talking about them to her, and I would ask you to do the same.”
“I won’t bring it up,” said Felicity. But I will tell Rook Thomas about this.
“Thank you. It was difficult for Odette to come to this country. I think that she is haunted by the idea that we are tying ourselves to the same sort of beings who killed those she loved best.”
19
Security Vetting Form
Duplicates of the personal documents requested must be certified by a justice of the peace to be true and accurate copies.
1. Surname: _______________
2. Christian names (Please note any family members after whom you were named or, if known, any other factors that prompted the selection of these names): _______________
3. Gender (at birth, and current): _______________
4. Date of conception (in Gregorian calendar): _______________
5. Date of birth (in Gregorian calendar): _______________
6. Time (in Greenwich Mean Time) at which the umbilical cord was cut: _______________
7. Location (if known) of placenta: _______________
8. Western zodiac sign: _______________
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