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Dior Lachance was in deep shit.
She was the Holy Grail. She was the last descendant of the Redeemer. She was the only person who could save a man from certain death with a single drop of her blood, just as she could kill a vampire with it. According to what Chloe Sauvage had told her, she was also the only person who could end the sine die.
Dior had thought Chloe's idea of getting to San Michon was just plain crazy from the start, but she had agreed to follow her anyway, since she had saved her. She had dared to hope for a bit of luck on their journey, though. She had prayed for a miracle that would allow her, Chloe, and their new companions to arrive safely, especially after Saoirse and Phoebe had joined them.
No one had listened, though, and the Dead had caught up with them.
A week after their group was attacked, Dior was walking down the immense corridor of an equally immense castle, escorted by the two vampires who had attacked them. Two vampires with skin as hard as stone. Two vampires of the Voss lineage.
Few knew who she was, and apparently the Forever King, Fabién Voss, was among them.
The place smelled disgustingly of blood, but aside from dark stains on the stone, there was nothing unusual. Nothing to suggest that there were Dead in there.
The corridor ended in a huge door that would have taken at least six men to open; the two vampires swung it open like they were parting curtains on a window.
The throne room was huge, proportionate to both the corridor and the castle, and it was basically empty, against all her expectations. She could therefore observe the walls, which at least once must have been frescoed but were now mostly covered with large red stains, and several niches containing statues, none of which were intact.
Dior observed all of this for a few seconds, because her gaze was then caught by what was in front of her.
There were eight thrones before her, placed atop a five-step platform. Dior got goosebumps looking at them: they seemed to be made of human bones.
Apart from one, all of them were occupied. Chloe had taught her a few facts about vampire clans and she knew that on those thrones sat the Forever King and his seven sons, called Princes of Forever, four on one side and three on the other.
Dior did not remember the names of all the princes. She knew by reputation the Terrors, the twin vampires who sat side by side to Fabién Voss’s right, and Danton Voss, since he had brought her here, though he had not intervened directly to capture her and had left the work to his two daughters.
As she was forced to kneel, she glanced at the empty throne. There was no one actually sitting on it, but there was someone on the steps below: a hunched figure, dressed all in black and with a drawn sword in his hands.
Dior looked back ahead and swallowed. She was trying to look fearless, but she was simply terrified.
In front of her, the Forever King himself was watching her. She couldn’t tell whether his presence, his gaze, or his appearance unnerved her more, since he looked about her age.
Finally, he broke into a smile that showed off his canines. «Dior Lachance. The Holy Grail of San Michon. The offspring of the Redeemer himself. It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance.»
Dior didn’t answer. She, for her part, had never wanted to meet him; fortunately, despite the terror she was feeling, she was still lucid enough to hold her tongue.
«I look forward to having a chat with you, but it’s been a long journey, so I think it’s best to let you rest.» Fabién Voss continued. «We have plenty of time, after all.»
He turned his head to the left and said: «Gabriel, take our guest to the guest room.»
The figure sitting on the steps rose to reveal a rather tall man with long hair. He sheathed his sword with the ease of someone who had done it a thousand times, then reached her, grabbed her arm, and dragged her out of there through a side door.
As soon as it closed behind them, the vampire let go of her. Dior watched him grab a torch from the wall and start down the hall.
He turned after a few steps to check that she was following him, and when he saw that she hadn’t moved, he said: «Come on, let’s go.»
Dior remained where she was. «I thought vampires were afraid of fire.»
«In fact, they do.» he replied without skipping a beat.
Dior stared at him, confused, then took an uncertain step toward him. The vampire smiled slightly, turned, and continued walking.
As she followed him, Dior studied the vampire. There was something about him that didn’t seem right: his canines were exposed and he was monstrously strong, as her aching arm kept reminding her, so there was no doubt that he was a Dead… and yet he walked with a heavy step, he carried a sword that, from what she had been told, a vampire had no use for, and his eyes…
Fabién Voss and his sons had completely black eyes. This vampire’s eyes, on the other hand, were an unusual light gray.
It reminded Dior of something, but she couldn’t put a finger on what it was.
She slowed her pace slightly as she tried to free herself from the ropes that were binding her wrists. The vampire looked back for a second, then looked forward again and slowed his pace as well.
She had not yet managed to free herself when the vampire stopped in front of a door. He opened it and motioned for her to enter.
She was surprised to see that it was indeed a bedroom. It was a giant room, probably not the previous ruler's but an actual guest room, with a four-poster bed, two luxurious wardrobes, two armchairs, a desk and a fireplace.
She stared at it for maybe ten seconds before realizing how fucking cold it was. Dior shivered and was surprised again when she saw the vampire attach the torch to the wall and go to light the fireplace.
It must have been something he’d done a hundred times, though, because he lit it quickly. He then glanced at her and said: «Come over to the fire, boy. You’re shaking like a leaf.»
The fire was little consolation. As she warmed herself, she looked at the vampire, now sitting on the floor in front of her and well lit by the flames. He looked back at her and asked: «What are you looking at?»
«You’re the least vampire-like vampire I’ve ever seen.» Dior said, realizing too late that it was probably an insult. The vampire laughed, though, and said: «Finally, someone who appreciates my efforts!»
That wasn’t the answer she’d expected. «What the fuck does it mean?»
«That I’ve been a vampire for, what, six months? and there's nothing funnier than watching those assholes cringe when they see me pick up torches as if I wasn't holding one of the few things that can kill them. Us.» he said amusedly.
For a moment Dior stared at him in silence. A newly converted vampire who didn't yet consider himself one of them. One who knew the vampires' weaknesses. One who insulted them as if he hated them.
A vampire named Gabriel. A swordsman.
A hero.
«Gabriel de León.»
She didn't realize she'd said it out loud until he met her gaze.
Dior blinked. «Are you Gabriel de León? The famous Silversaint? The Black Lion of Lorson?»
«Not even when I entered the cities was I addressed this way. Yes, boy, I’m Gabriel de León. Although now the right name would be something like “Gabriel Voss”.» he said with a disgusted expression. «No one has dared to call me that yet except Fabién.»
Dior looked at him with wide eyes. «What… Why the fuck are you a vampire?! You were literally a vampire hunter! That’s what Chloe said, at least.»
«Chloe? Chloe Sauvage?» he asked in turn. «Do you know her?»
«Yes! She was the one who found me, who discovered that I was…»
«The Holy Grail.» Gabriel concluded. He was studying her, but Dior had the feeling that he was in the middle of a debate with himself.
«What happened to Chloe?» he asked finally.
«I don’t know. Danton and the two vampires who brought me here attacked us a week ago. I don’t know if she’s alive.»
He nodded, still watching her. Dior decided she wasn’t going to give up and asked again: «Why are you a vampire?»
Gabriel looked away and into the fire. Finally he said: «For the safety of my famille, this and more.»
He smiled, showing off his pointed canines. «I’m still doing my job, actually. The Voss have learned the hard way that playing with me is like playing with fire, especially now that I am like them. You’ll never see me kill a human, boy; I’m their trusted vampire slayer.»
Even though she was in the heart of the Voss empire and in their castle, Dior found herself not so afraid anymore. Not with Gabriel de León in front of her, talking to her as if they were friends, recounting his life as if it were nothing.
It was absurd, but she felt the flame of hope rekindle.
«Then you can get me out of here.»
Gabriel’s smile faded. He looked at her with those human gray eyes, then said: «I’m afraid not.»
«But I’m—»
«I know what you are, boy. It’s not that I don’t want to, but every misstep I make could potentially kill my wife and daughter, and I make plenty of those already. I can’t risk it.»
He stood up and drew his sword. Dior flinched, but he simply cut the ropes binding her wrists.
He sheathed his weapon and said, more formally now: «You'll find some changes of clothes in the closets, they probably smell a little musty but at least they're not covered in blood. That door over there leads to a private bathroom. Later on, food will be brought to you. Until then, no one will come to disturb you, so I advise you to rest and wash yourself; you smell like a horse.»
«Almost as if I spent days riding one.» Dior replied acidly.
«I’ve had worse smells on me. Like horse shit.» he said. «I also advise you not to try to get any makeshift weapons in here, you’ll only piss them off. I guarantee you that even if you used Ashdrinker to stab me that I am only recently turned, you wouldn’t be able to scratch me.»
He must not have known that her blood could kill him. That was a considerable advantage, but remained to be seen whether none of them knew or just Gabriel.
Dior watched him walk toward the door and stop in front of it with his gloved hand raised.
«I can’t help you, Dior Lachance, but I’ll keep an eye out for anything of note, whether it’s an escape route or help.»
«What does he want from me?» Dior asked, staring at him.
Gabriel glanced at her and shook his head. «I don’t know, but if Fabién wanted you dead, you’d already be dead. Console yourself, boy… for now you will live. And hopefully for a long time.»
He went out and closed the door behind him, then pulled a latch that sounded decidedly heavy. Dior remained staring at the door, feeling… relieved.
She was in the most dangerous place possible, but Gabriel de León was there too. Vampire or not, he was a hero. A vampire hunter. And even if indirectly, he had offered her his help.
Maybe everything would be okay.