A Friendly Meeting

One evening, Bogdan is alone in the Paris catacombs. He descends, invisible, solitary and determined…

Some think he is a bookworm. Others think he is an animal… Poor fools!

If they only knew, if only they could understand, but they are not ready…

He walks through the catacombs…

He passes some of his clan brothers and fellow rodents, or perhaps the other way around…

After all, yes, even the rats are his brothers…

He, the bookworm, he, the clan's memory, he, the animal… What a farce!

It has gone on for too long, but he was warned: “Such will be your lot, Bogdan, a path of solitude and contempt.”

As he walks, he remembers how it all began. He remembers the burn, he remembers the pain, then everything fades. He must stay focused on his purpose. Tonight is a great night!

He reaches the door and prepares himself. He already knows how it will all end before it has even begun…

He knocks. She opens the door…

“Good evening, Bogdan. I'm delighted to see you.”

“So am I, Prévôt.”

“Come in. As you asked, I've made available to you some of the best-guarded books in Paris, those that recount the famous meeting and the pact binding the Lepers to the Prince.”

“Thank you, Prévôt. And the rosary?”

“I have something here, but the most important part is still in my head, Bogdan. For your own safety, I think you should leave it there.”

“How thoughtful, my dear, but your opinion does not interest me…”

“Bogdan, what is going on?”

Bogdan closes the door behind him and locks it, then approaches the strange vampire woman…

“I know what you're feeling, my dear: concern, doubt, even fear. But don't worry, you have nothing to fear. I'm here to help fulfil your desire… To take the place of S.A.S…”

“Oh, you were joking. For a moment, I thought you were going to hurt me.”

Bogdan fixes the Prévôt with a cold, empty stare.

“BOGDAN! What are you going to do? You aren't going to attack me, are you?”

“No, my dear…”

His gaze never wavers.

“Bogdan? Are you joking?”

“Yes…”

His work downstairs was finally done, but the raw material was so plentiful that the wooden boards had begun to drink the excess. Crouching amid the carnage, he listened with delight as the liquid seeped through the cracks in the floor. A steady, heavy drip began to drum against the floor of the drawing room below. He could easily imagine the panic of the idiot underneath, feeling that warm, metallic rain fall across his face. With an ominous crack, the plaster gave way and poured its red offering over his helpless face.

“KNOCK KNOCK.”

“What? Who's there? Who are you?”

“It's Yvan!”

“WHO?”

“Yvan make it rain!”

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA…

Bogdan