godly_detective (godly_detective) wrote in v_nocturne_rpg, @ 2009-10-01 13:24:00 |
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Entry tags: | fr antoine verdoux, izzy alderdice |
An End and a Beginning
The courier had stood outside the servant's entrance of Mrs. Daugney's house for about two and a half hours, refusing to speak to anyone aside from a Mr. Israel Alderdice. Unfortunately, Mr. Alderdice happened to be working at the moment, and would not be for another couple of hours, would you like to come in and have some tea, mister? The courier had answered no and had seemed somewhat arrogant about the whole process so that the kitchen staff hadn't felt too bad about leaving him out in the rain. He had an umbrella, anyway.
It would have been foolish to say that Izzy hadn't been expecting anything for the past week, but he still had no idea what the courier was about, no matter how many times he was asked, even by Mrs. Daugney herself. Mostly, he wondered what all the fuss was about. It was only when he took the letter that he got really, really excited but refused to show anyone.
His head had been buzzing all week. A contract. He might not have been getting paid much for it, but he was getting paid and more than that it meant that they knew his name. He was officially getting jobs as a hunter now, and from The Crown no less. He'd hardly been able to focus all week, much less all day, and had been quite surprised he'd slept at all last night. Even though he didn't know how it was going to go, he'd written home even though he had no idea how it was going to go.
Now he was standing outside the rectory, not sure what to think. The letter was in his coat pocket as to avoid getting it wet, even though it wasn't raining. A miserable fog had settled over everything, making the night look particularly ghostly. He wasn't sure what to expect, but for some reason he kept hearing his Sunday school teacher railing on about how Catholicism was a only cover-up for devil worshipers. Honestly, he'd thought the teacher was a loony, not so much because of that particular instance but as a general rule, but in the back of his mind he couldn't help but wonder if there was something valid about it. Even if it was true, however, he had still worked for worse people, and it didn't take away from his excitement.
The priest of the rectory was outside, maintaining a small vegetable garden which lay behind a little stone fence. Sometimes manual labor was the best thing for the soul, really. Fr Verdoux liked to work in the garden whenever something was troubling him and whenever he had the time. He was hardly a man of leisure, hearing confession for an hour or more a day, saying the Mass in the morning and the evening and dealing with the administration of St. Anselm, besides his other, less appetizing nocturnal activities. It had been nearly a week since the girl Dymphna was stricken with the disease of the vampire, and she would not relent in identifying her attacker. She was, he was afraid, too far gone for that. He just had to know with whom he was dealing so that the matter might be resolved to the satisfaction of the Inquisition and of the Church.
He removed his gloves and set them on the fence, checking his pocket watch. He would be late, surely. He picked up the gloves and walked briskly toward the front of the rectory. This eternal fog which hung over London, well, he could never get used to it. He missed the brighter sun in his home country, the way it would stretch its arms through the stained glass of a cathedral and shine its benevolent light down on the people--that was a religious experience in itself. But London....one was lucky if one could see the sun through the grime which often coated the glass of the windows here.
It took a moment to snap out of this reverie, but the priest finally noticed the young form of a lad not much older than a boy. This had to be he, he supposed, but he was far younger than Verdoux had reckoned. With long strides he approached the young man, gloves in one hand, the other outstretched.
"Good afternoon, Mr. Alderdice, I presume?" His smile was warm and benevolent with no trace of haughtiness or the like. He had heard of the nature of the person before him, and it saddened him more than anything, but he hoped, yes hoped, that it was one of the gifts God assigns His creatures from time to time, seemingly without rhyme or reason.
At one point, Mr. Theralt had joked with him that it was mostly normal-looking people who hunted the supernatural. The stocky, quiet young man, the educated gentleman, and as Izzy saw now, the kindly-looking priest. Still, if Father Verdoux was surprised by how Izzy looked, Izzy was even moreso. It wasn't a bad thing at all, indeed, Izzy had expected someone a lot more intimidating than the man he saw before him. He smiled politely and shook his hand.
"Yessir. And you are Father Verdoux?" He tried to come off well, no sense in making enemies on his first job, no matter who they were. Of course, there was one creature he wanted to make an enemy of tonight, but frankly they wouldn't be living to see the end of it if Izzy had his way.
He was slightly ashamed, however, that the first thought that actually popped into his mind was "Who does their gardening in the middle of the night?" Now he knew that the answer, he supposed, was Catholic priests. However, he tried to give no sign of this, since otherwise Father Verdoux looked perfectly normal, insofar as anyone who hunted the supernatural for a living could be normal.
"I understand you're having some problems with a vampire, Father?" That was about all the letter had told him, and he'd prepared accordingly.
"I am Fr Verdoux yes. And unfortunately, it seems that this vampire is quite stubborn. Please, come inside. I am sure you will agree that two people discussing evil fairy tales in the middle of the night might look a bit unpleasant to any passerby, and well, I don't want to be known as 'that drunk priest,'" he joked, opening the front door and ushering the younger man in. The rectory was small, humble. He shared it with one other priest and their housekeeper, Mrs. Beardsley, a devout widow.
There were few adornments in the humble house, other than various icons and cruxifixes which one might find now and again. He lit a candle and led Mr. Alderdice into the kitchen, where he gestured for him to sit as he, Verdoux, began bustling about, pulling out various items of food and implements with which to serve it. He ended up with a smallish cake, several slices of bread and a good, hearty cheese. While he was preparing the things, he spoke.
"There is a girl who is a part of my parish. She is perhaps your age, perhaps a year or two younger. She was stricken by a vampire and has become his thrall. It is very distressing to her mother and father, as I am sure you may guess. She will not say where she met the vampire, or even say his name. I suspect the usual. He had been courting her for some time. As you know, Mr. Alderdice, we cannot have such a creature on the loose, and we must protect the girl's life. This is where you come in, because, I confess, I am quite stumped." He paused and poured some hearty wine into two humble cups. "Please, drink, eat. It's the best thing to do before taking on such endeavors." Verdoux himself sat down and crossed himself, praying silently over his food before he began eating in earnest.
Izzy laughed a bit stiffly at the joke as he walked into the rectory. He wanted to get to business immediately and not bother with small talk, but at the same time he didn't want to come off as rude. He looked around. The place was nothing like Professor Armitage's house, but he imagined it was about right for a rectory, even though he'd never been inside one before.
Sitting down at the table, he didn't touch any of the food as Fr Verdoux spoke, taking in what the man said as he ran around. At first he thought the girl had been infected, and in which case why hadn't the priest killed her already, but then he realized he'd misheard the man or just accidentally connected enthrallment for infection. He was glad he hadn't spoken up before then.
When Verdoux started to pray, he followed suit, though all he was really going was bowing his head and putting his hands together. He felt like they were wasting time, but really, he'd barely eaten anything at dinner before he'd run out, and didn't think it mattered. He took some bread and cheese and cake and began to eat as he thought for a moment. Then he said, "Well, if she's enthralled, then he clearly wants her to come back to him. And if he's courting a human, he mustn't be very old, unless he's just toying with her for a while, though if that were the case he would have just taken her. She's likely to return to him at some point - I wouldn't be surprised if it were every night." He examined a bit of cake on his fork thoughtfully for a moment, and asked, "You said her family knows he's courting her, correct?" before popping it into his mouth.
"They suspect," Verdoux corrected, suddenly very serious. He put his food down as though he suddenly found it distasteful. He rose from the table again and leaned down to access another cabinet. He pulled from it a black satchel, but said nothing on the matter. Instead, he set the satchel on the loor beside his chair and steepled his hands on the table.
"They have seen nothing of this creature. From what I have gleaned, it was initially an unexpected encounter, which had become thereafter a routine occurrence. She is a young woman of poor means and less of a chance for a future. The vampire, as I am sure you know, does not seduce its victims by blood alone. She has calmed down over the past few days, but she still refuses to talk. She has mistaken affection for the creature, which can be explained through properties other than the paranormal. I have had her mother and elder brother watch over her in turns so that she does not sneak off. Tonight I will let them rest. She will come to him, I know." The priest tried to speak slowly, so that his words might be better understood beneath his still rather thick accent, but the nature of his birth tongue had always demanded rapidity, especially in urgent matters.
"Our task will be to follow her and--if at all possible--secure the vampire before she has an opportunity to meet with it." He bowed his head and ran his fingers through his hair in his usual habit. He was thoughtful more than frustrated, but did not like the task before him. He struggled with this aspect, the hunting, the killing, more than anything else.
Glancing at the bag, Izzy said, "I see. And you have confirmed it, I assume?" He seemed quite a bit less tense about the situation than Verdoux was, perhaps because he had been through it many times. His lax attitude towards what some might consider outright murder might have made him seem sick of mind, but he hoped that the priest knew better.
He nodded slowly when Verdoux began to speak of the girl's affection for the vampire, a slight look of disgust forming, though there was still a note of happiness and apprehension in his voice. "Yes, that is unfortunately very common. Somehow they can ignore that they are making love to a cannibalistic corpse, even when they kiss his cold lips," a smile flitted across his face, and then he was more serious when he added, "Forgive me, Father, I should not be talking of these things here. But I wouldn't doubt that she finds him some other way, or that he finds her. 'Love' always finds a way, as they say." He nodded. "That is the best idea, certainly. But do you plan to simply restrain the vampire for study or kill him and be done with it?"`
Leaning back in his chair, the way he said his next words might have made him sound ten, perhaps twenty years older than he was. "If at all possible, Father? I'd hardly say it's merely possible." Then, he eyed the sack. "If you don't mind me asking, I've never worked with a man of the Lord before. What weapons do you use?"
The priest smiled a little. It was a sad smile, as though burdened with trial and suffering. "It is confirmed," he replied slowly, remembering examining the girl himself. "I, too, have experience in such matters--to my chagrin, perhaps. I find that young people become easily infatuated. Their flesh is weak, perhaps, and their spirit yet as well-formed as a person who has had years of experience. We must eliminate the vampire. I am by no means a scientist and were I, I do not think I would find joy in seeing the prolonged suffering of any creature, even one such as that.
"You see, Mr. Alderdice," he continued, gathering up the plates and cups and setting them on a sideboard to be washed later. "Violence is abhorrent to the nature of the priest. This is not to say that there are no violent members of the clergy. Unfortunately, such is human nature. But we are God's servants. And so we can only ask for His intercession." He sat back down warily, drawing his hand through his dark hair again before opening the satchel. He set several items on the table, each with something of an ominous thud.
"The Bible. Demons and all wrathful creatures find it abhorrent." He gestured to the leather bound book. "The crucifix. They shrink from it because it reminds them of their sins and of the Lord's divine suffering." The crucifix he held was about the size of his hand and silver. The figure of Jesus was crafted in superb detail, the eyes looking upwards as the body twisted in pain. It had been given him by a monseigneur in France. "The holy water. It is used for baptism, but wards and offends the undead because it is infused with the Holy spirit." He opeend a small leather case which contained several vials of these. "I blessed them myself, though in truth any priest can do it. Finally, the Exorcist's Handbook.
"You see, you will not find me with a silver bullet loaded into a revolver, or with a stake in my hand. But I assure you these can be just as effective when used in the right circumstances."
"I realize," he looked over the weapons. He'd seen others with them, or something like them. Weapons of faith. Izzy had once tried them, and almost met his death at fifteen. But then again, whenever he thought of faith, his mind invariably brought up his mother, telling him about how she'd found it hard to believe in God after his father, how she wasn't sure if God would protect her son so she'd damn well do it herself. Izzy believed simply because he thought there had to be something to balance out the evil in the world. From a certain age, he'd started taking a certain amount of comfort in the idea of an angel of death; that it, in some twisted way, justified his existence. All things must die, after all. Someone had to be there at the right time to do it.
He nodded at the priest's comment about killing the vampire. "True," he said, "I was told once that they'd suffered enough, though they've the good fortune to be able to take all their sufferings out on others. You could even call it a mercy kill, if you wanted," he laughed a little, though it wasn't humorous at all. He looked up at Verdoux through his brow, "So you need me to do the job, then."
Shifting a little in his chair, he pulled out two objects and set them down on the table. He smiled sadly. "Unfortunately, I can't say those things work for me very well. I've got my own methods of doing things, if you don't mind me saying, Father." The first object was a large hunting knife. Izzy pulled it out of its sheath. It was an evil-looking thing, but very well taken care of, and the way Izzy held it at the moment, it might have been hard to say that it wasn't just an extension of his arm. "Got her when I started hunting. Can make her do anything I like. Go through a heart, guts - even had to decapitate one with her once, use the serrated edge for that but it still make me - nervous." He put it back in the scabbard, and then picked up the next object, a rather lovely-looking bottle of perfume. He'd borrowed it from Mrs. Daugney, a line she was never going to put on the shelves. "Vampire's have got wicked senses, but that's a double-edged sword, you know," he took the cap off and looked over it for a moment before offering it to Verdoux and wiping the tears of his eyes. "From India, I think."
When he took it back, he put both items away. "Is there any particular plan or are we just going to follow her and kill the vampire?"
"Well, that is why you are here, my son." Fr Verdoux began repacking the items into the satchel, snapping it shut with a sound reminiscent of finality. "I have my suspicions on where they meet but I cannot be sure. It is a shame indeed to have to put the girl through such things, but I was hoping that this is where you might come in. I had planned on letting her leave while her family pretended to be asleep. It would be then that we would rouse her brother, who would with us follow her. However, I was hoping--and I pray that my hope is correct--that you may yet pick up the trail of the vampire before she has a chance to actually meet him. It is then that her brother agrees to usher her back toward the house while we--how would you say?--get on with business." He was already standing, getting his hat and coat. "It is perhaps a bit complicated, but sometimes in complication one might yet find simplicity."
Izzy frowned at the plan. "Are you absolutely sure we can keep them both out of danger? And that she'll follow him? If she really thinks she's in love, then she might choose the vampire over him, and then we've got two innocents to protect what don't even know how to defend themselves properly. Personally, I'd choose just having to get her out of the way, if you understand me, Father," and he shook his head when Verdoux made some wild leap in logic about his abilities, "Forgive me for saying, but I'm not a bloodhound. I can't spot a vampire when he isn't there. I suggest we let her lead us to him, and then get him."
"Perhaps you are correct, my son." Verdoux's brow furrowed and he unconsciously pulled off his hat, shoving his hand through his hair almost violently. He was standing just in the threshold, eager to get the business over with. He was a detective, not a vampire hunter, but he had an order of obedience to follow, one which trumped his own mortal will. "Marty is a strong young man, and I believe in his capabilities--even if he had to overpower his sister, which he agreed to do as a last resort. I did not wish to put her in harm's way. Nor did I wish to let her see the death of her beloved--if such he is." Verdoux paused.
"I could not and would not see you as a tool, Mr. Alderdice. You were sent me by God Himself, I am convinced, to help rid this poor family of this blight. I understand you have a great deal of experience in these matters and would certainly appreciate your consultation. However, time is growing short, as I am sure you know."
Nodding, Izzy stood up to follow Verdoux. He wasn't quite comfortable with the brother following them, and began to make plans in his head for what he should do if in fact the man couldn't get his sister away from her 'lover'. To Izzy, it wasn't a matter of whether or or not the brother was strong - he wasn't likely to be as strong as a vampire, if it came to that (which he had a sinking feeling it would). "No sense in waiting 'til morning," he said as they left the rectory.
With steps far quicker than one might expect, he led the other through several blocks. He would not take a carriage as that would draw too much attention to their endeavors. Safely they arrived at the door and he knocked quietly three times. He was greeted by Mrs. Egan, who quietly ushered the two of them into a little kitchen, closing the door behind them.
"Please," she whispered, "Stay in here. She will be waking soon, I know it. She does so each night." With that, Mrs. Egan left, closing the door tightly behind her. And indeed it wasn't long before the door opened again, this time by a somewhat burly young man who merely nodded then ran from the room. So the chase began.
"You're ready, I presume?" Fr Verdoux asked. But he was already halfway out of the house before he could give the boy time for answer. They followed Marty Egan at a quiet yet deft pace. Verdoux suspected the young man had an idea of where to go, moreso than he had been willing to admit at first. The girl was in their sights, but barely, and he liked to keep it that way until matters made it necessary to be otherwise.
Marty Egan didn't seem to be especially foolish, or at least, not as foolish as Izzy had expected him to be. Izzy made no sound as they left, quickly passing Father Verdoux. If the vampire saw them, it made much more sense for him to be in front, where he could fight against it with something a little more than holy water. There may have been a certain mistrust of Verdoux in Izzy, but it was more due to the priest being human than anything personal.
They followed the girl - he still didn't know what her name was - more by sound than by sight due to the fog, and kept absolutely silent. This was nothing new at all for Izzy, simply a new environment with less trees and more brick. The girl finally stopped at a run-down townhouse in the East End, and Marty stopped around a corner. He nodded urgently for Marty to go and get his sister, and quickly and quietly ran after him to take her place.
Fr Verdoux had slipped one of the vials of holy water into his pocket. He pulled it out now and muttered a prayer in Latin, thrashing the water three times--one for each person of the Trinity--at the threshold. It was only then that he tried the doorknob after slipping the vial back into his pocket. He was not surprised that it was unlocked. Indeed, he expected it. Though the townhouse was quite ramshackle on the outside, it was neatly and respectfully furnished on the inside, with very little dust to be seen. It was obvious that the keeper of the house had heard them, for the priest heard a voice.
"Darling, I am glad you are here," it called from the other room. "Do come in. I would like for you to be with me tonight." It was masculine, coming from a room in the back. Perhaps he had not thought that others would be arriving. Perhaps he was careless. Tonight, however, he had a death wish, Verdoux thought gravely. He looked to Izzy, waiting for him to make the first move.
Izzy had left his shoes and socks at the door so that he wouldn't make as much noise and was now stepping very quietly down the hall, just in front of Verdoux. In his mind, very little else existed besides the house, the vampire, and himself, and it showed. At the sound of the vampire's voice, he gave an almost cheshire grin to no one in particular, took off his coat, and put it on the floor before continuing on.
He walked almost normally and without making a sound. He pulled the knife out of its sheath, and it once again became part of his hand. He knew where the vampire was, just around this corner to a living room where Izzy did not hesitate before running and pouncing on the unsuspecting vampire, not waiting to begin stabbing the creature wildly, to wear it down as much as anything else.
The vampire, a certain Edward Flannigan, rose rather quickly from the chair in which he had been sitting. A table was set for two in the little sitting room, the only light coming from a branch of candelabra and the fire. There were roses. He had been expecting Dymphna this very hour, but instead a young ruffian assailed him with a vicious weapon. It was too much to be bourne!
He had been startled, yes, but instinct kicked in and he was soon attempting to wrench the knife from the boy's hand, his eyes flashing. "You dare!" he hissed, crushing the intruder's hand in his, hoping to damage the bones. It was a tense scuffle, one in which merciless pummelling and kicking were used. He took hold of the knife himself, hand at the ready. So intent was he on killing, on bloodlust, that he did not even notice the arrival of the priest.
"The power of Christ compels you. Drop the knife." Fr Verdoux's voice was something completely different. It was stern, biblical, commanding. He had taken hold of the crucifix, nearing the vampire. Flannigan's eyes widened as his gaze fixed on the form of the crucified Christ. He was frozen in place for a second, transfixed. The knife dropped from his hand, as though by miracle. But it was only a second. He lunged at the boy again.
By this time, Izzy was letting his movements stand in for his voice. Whatever he did, he couldn't let go of the knife, and kept at it, slicing at his neck and aiming for the creature's heart. This wasn't working in the slightest, so he let go and tried to hold down the vampire. He faced a great deal of difficulty in this, but every move he made was certain, precise. No need to waste time now.
He was on top of the vampire now, half pinning him down when he heard a voice up above them both. Someone talking like God Himself. In the second the vampire stopped moving, he grabbed the knife again and immediately plunged it into the creature's chest. Blood sprayed onto his face. For a few seconds, they might have frozen in time.
A wide grin spread across his face. He kept a hand on the knife as he sat up took a breath, and sat for a moment, motioning for the priest to wait. The vampire's body had gone slack. "First try, even," he breathed.
The priest averted his eyes, a bit of the blood splashing onto his face. He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped it off. He would discard it into the fire in the rectory later. Perhaps it was wrong of him, but he could not help but think of that vampire as he was when a man. How long had he lived? When was he changed? What was he liked before? But he pushed these thoughts away.
"Thank you, Mr. Alderdice," he said softly, his voice and demeanor reverting to normal. This was the part he hated worst. He had researched it for several months in preparation, when he had joined the Inquisition, had witnessed it several times himself. But he never relished it, even knowing he had put something heinous to bed. He reached into his satchel and pulled out a cloth bag. He was reminded of Judith slaying Holofernes, removing his head from his body in a righteous act. He billowed the bag out, holding it open. "Will you be so kind?"
He sat for another second before grabbing the vampire by the hair and pulling the knife out of his chest and applying it to a different purpose. "No trouble at all," he said softly as he worked. When he looked back up at the priest, he saw an expression that gave him a cue to try and feel the same way, but he didn't follow it. To him, there was no point in feeling sorry for the vampire. It was good that he was dead, really, or a little bit deader than he had been.
It took him a little while before he could rip off the vampire's head from its last strings of flesh and put it in the bag. "Would you mind givin' me a handkerchief? Messy work and...whatnot."
"Surely," replied the priest. He opened the satchel again and removed another length of cotton. "If you like, you can wash more thoroughly at the rectory." He handed the handkerchief to the young man, tying up the sack which held the head. The weight of the sack sickened him, and he could see the blood beginning to stain through it. But he would not be daunted. This was his God-given task. "There is a furnace near here, where Dymphna, the girl, where her father works. I am sure you know that the body need be incinerated. I will take the head and burn it myself at the church, that the ashes may not comingle. But the question is, how do we get a decapitated body over there without all of London having nightmares?"
"Thank you, Father," said Izzy, wiping off his knife with the handkerchief. By the time he'd done that, it was much too bloody to use on his face, so he simply used his sleeve. There went another shirt from home, though it had been perfectly ruined when he'd killed the vampire. Putting the knife back in its sheath, he stood up and replied, "He'll remain dead if you burn him or not. Taking someone's head off is good enough to kill anything in this world." As many times as he had corrected Verdoux tonight, however, it didn't bother him. Most people didn't know much about vampires, even if they were up close and personal with them on a regular basis.
Looking down at the body, he thought for a moment. "Could leave it 'ere, but I don't know how often he gets visitors," he paused for a second, andd around and said softly, "We should check the house, see if there're any more in 'ere."
"I always like to be certain about things. I am a cautious man. But you are correct nonetheless. I must, however, burn the head. There are certain prayers which must be said. It is the way of the Church." He spoke almost apologetically. He, however, had easily obtained information on the place which had led him to believe that no-one else inhabited it. "You may look if you like, but I am certain there are no others here. You see, as we entered, there was only one coat on the coat rack. Though the townhouse is roomy, there are scarce furnishings. These furnishings, however, are used tastefully, and of good make. And finally, you see the dinner set out. Two plates, two forks, two knives. You will find he was a bachelor, I assure you." It had only taken him a glance to see these things, but he trusted his senses.
To Verdoux's analysis, Izzy simply nodded and walked off quietly though the darkened house. He wouldn't have trusted a vampire, no matter what evidence there was for him. One could never be too careful in a situation like this.
He found nothing on the first floor of the house, but the second floor smelled a little bit odd. Most of the doors were locked, but he still kicked off their handled to see where the smell was coming from. He reached the last room in the hall with nothing to show for it, and when he reached through where the handle had been to open the door, he was dreading to find what he expected. A gaunt-looking girl lay motionless on the floor and he didn't need to check her pulse. He considered bringing her downstairs; after all, Verdoux might want to give her a proper burial.
Izzy would have looked a miserable sight now, a young man in a blood-stained shirt carrying something awful wrapped up in a sheet. The girl's hair hung out of her makeshift shroud and bobbed along as Izzy walked back to the living room. "Marty's sister wasn't his only girl, I suppose," he said with a note of dark humor in his voice, "This 'un's probably two days dead, maybe more. Couldn't find anyone else, thankfully. Probably got rid of the rest of 'em already."
He unveiled the face. It was one familiar. He remembered her in his parish, though he had never been formally introduced. Her mother was a seamstress and had been praying for her daughter's return. It would sadden her, he knew. But it would be much easier to remove a body like this than to take half of a corpse. He would have her taken to the funeral parlour to be arrayed properly.
"Thank you for bringing her down. It was very good of you. Her mother has been worried about her for well over two weeks. Though I am sure she will not be pleased to know that her daughter has been murdered, at least she will know that the girl's soul is at peace, in the hands of God." He was sickened by this and found that somehow he no longer felt as sympathetic toward the dead creature whose head was sitting in a bag on the table.
"Would you like to run for the rectory's carriage, or shall I?" he asked. Regardless of intent, he certainly could not hail a cab to collect a corpse. Fr Langley slept light, so he knew he would have few problems waking anyone.
"One of yours, then?" He asked, looking at the girl's face. Her skin was grayish, her lips were cracked and her expression made him think she'd likely been in pain when she died. If she had been beautiful, death had stripped that beauty away entirely. He'd never understood what all the talk was about looking peaceful in death. If he'd never seen a corpse before, he might have been sick.
She wasn't the first one, he knew that almost for a fact. She hadn't been the first and Marty's sister certainly wouldn't have been the last. Dealing with the supernatural was never pretty or romantic, it was entirely alien for him to wonder how this vampire's victims had likely thought it was.
Still, he was working. He nodded and put the girl down. "I'll do that," he replied before starting down the hall, grabbing his coat and buttoning it up to the collar.
"Yes, she was in my church," Verdoux said sadly, recovering the girl's face. "If you knock at the back door, Fr Langley will ready the carriage. All will be well. I will remain here, then. I'm going to do a cleansing ritual while you are gone. It won't take long, and isn't completely necessary, but I like to do it nonetheless. I cannot thank you enough." Fr Verdoux was sincere in his words. He would not have been able to do what Alderdice had done so easily. These sorts of weapons were beyond him, and though he might have been able to stave the vampire off for a period of time with his religious weapons, he was aware that none of them on their own could kill it. And he certainly would do so at his peril. He was well aware of the limits of his abilities.
"I shall, Father," he said, nodding back at Verdoux as he continued down the hall, "I won't be long." He slipped his shoes on and walked out into the night. Marty and his sister were gone by this time; he hadn't even heard them leave. Perhaps it had worked, or Marty was a little colder than Izzy had taken him for.
It took him a little longer than he'd expected to get back to the rectory, mainly because he hadn't been paying especially close attention to the streets when they'd been following the girl. But when he reached the rectory, Father Langley (he assumed) was waiting for him. The priest did not ask him questions and indeed didn't speak to him for the journey back. Izzy wondered if the man knew what he was, though the situation was nothing new to him. During his apprenticeship, almost no one who hired Theralt spoke to Izzy; he'd always assumed there they found something disturbing about someone so young in such a brutal profession. He'd been offended in the beginning, but had come to accept it as natural.
The rectory's carriage arrived in due time, and Fr Langley hopped out, carefully helping Verdoux with the body. They laid it on the front seat of the carriage, securing it as best they could. Fr Verdoux set the bagged head on the floor, pulling himself up into the carriage.
"If you do not mind, Mr. Alderdice, I must needs take her to the undertaker. I doubt you will enjoy something so dull as all that. I cannot thank you enough for your help. Indeed, I am in your debt." His words were quiet and solemn. He held his hand out of the carriage. "Perhaps you will come for lunch one day? Mrs. Beadsley cooks splendidly." He was smiling kindly. Though generally a retiring man, he felt it his duty to make the acquaintance of this young man--perhaps because his heart ached for any person whose nature brought them to such things. He always felt a closer connection to those who were alienated, those who were other. Christ, he mused, would have reached out his heart to such people.
"And I am in yours, Father," replied Izzy, nodding. Even if it was only an extra second or so, with the speed at which he had to fight it might as well have been an hour, and that was worth something. A great many things, in fact. It was then that he smiled, he couldn't have held it back any longer. He couldn't have asked for this job to go any better; it seemed for all the world that the priest even liked him. It didn't occur to him now, as it would later, that it might have only been pity. "Perhaps I shall, if I have any time at all. Honor and a pleasure to work with you, sir." He held out his hand.
He grasped the younger man's hand firmly, giving it a good shake before releasing it finally. Without hesitation, he said, "Bless you, young man. The Lord loves those who carry out His justice. You have helped saved the life and innocence of a girl, and put to rest the soul of another. And please, do come for lunch. There will always be a place at my table for you." He gave Izzy one final smile then closed the door of the carriage. With that, it rattled away into the night. It would be a bittersweet affair, one girl taken from the world, an another saved from it, but altogether, though melancholy, Verdoux was satisfied.