Chapter 64 Shadow in Paris

Chapter 64 Shadow in Paris
“Your latte is here… Emmanuel? Emmanuel?” “Right here,” I said, snapping out of my thoughts as I stood up from the chair and walked over to the counter, and the barista handed me the cup, and her fingers brushed mine for a brief second. “Thank you,” I said. “Have a nice day,” she replied with a polite smile. “You too,” and I turned and walked out of the café, and the soft chime of the door rang behind me, and the air outside greeted me differently—cool, alive, carrying the distant hum of the city, so I took a deep breath and muttered under it, “Paris is wonderful,” and I began walking down the street, my eyes scanning everything—the architecture, the people, the quiet elegance of the city, and it finally made sense, and now I understood why Juliet chose to come here, because this place… it had something about it, something warm, something alive. I let out a small, almost bitter chuckle, because I had spent over five decades roaming across Europe, drifting from place to place, and somehow, I never once set foot in France, not once, and I wish… I wish Juliet and I had come here together, because maybe then I’d have something—some memory, some location, some trace to follow, and maybe I wouldn’t be wandering like this… blind. Now I was just walking, hoping, hoping that somehow, by chance, I’d turn a corner and see her standing there, like nothing ever happened, but Paris is a big city, too big, and I’ve been roaming these streets for days now, and my grip tightened slightly around the warm cup in my hand as another thought crept in. I wonder if those hunters fell for the trap I laid for them, and they better have, and they better all be dead, because their captain… I exhaled slowly, my expression darkening, because he’s not someone I can kill, and that alone… makes this whole situation a damn hassle. I kept sipping my coffee as I walked through a quieter part of the city, away from the busy streets and tourist noise, and the buildings here felt more personal—narrow sidewalks, small balconies, curtains half-drawn, and it was peaceful… almost too peaceful, then I saw the crowd. People were gathered in front of a house, murmuring among themselves, and a few police officers stood nearby, and bright yellow tape stretched across the entrance—DO NOT CROSS, and the moment I saw it, my instincts sharpened, because something had happened, so I slowed my steps and stayed at a distance, blending in just enough not to draw attention, then I focused. Using my vampire hearing, I filtered through the noise—the overlapping voices, whispers, speculations, and everyone was talking, but most of it was useless, panic, exaggeration, confusion, then one voice stood out, clearer, more certain, so I narrowed my focus on it, isolating the sound, trying to catch every word—but it was in French, fast, natural, and frustratingly difficult to fully understand, and I caught bits and pieces, but not enough to make sense of it. “Damn…” I muttered under my breath, and I took another sip of my coffee and decided to get closer, and as I approached the crowd, I scanned faces quickly until I found someone who looked like they’d actually witnessed something—a man standing there in his pajamas, hair messy, eyes wide like he hadn’t slept, and perfect. I stepped beside him. “Hey,” I said, casually. “What’s going on?” He glanced at me, still shaken, then pointed toward the house. “Some people came to that house,” he said, his voice low but tense. “They held a gun to the old lady who lives there… right to her head,” and I felt my grip tighten slightly around my cup. “And?” I asked. “They told her to let them in,” he continued, swallowing nervously. “Said if she didn’t… they’d kill her,” and that was all I needed to hear, because vampires, no doubt about it, and humans don’t ask for permission to enter a house at gunpoint unless something is forcing them to follow rules, and I knew those rules all too well. Now the question wasn’t what happened, and it was who: Juliet… or someone else? I stayed where I was, keeping my distance, and focused again—tuning out the unnecessary noise, locking onto the same man’s voice as he continued speaking. “I wonder why they didn’t just barge in,” the man in pajamas said, scratching his head, and another man stood beside him, this one fully dressed like he was ready for the day. He shrugged. “Maybe they’re polite criminals,” and the first man let out a dry laugh. “Polite? Yeah, right, and after that, they knocked the poor old lady unconscious, tied her husband up, and took their son to the next house—where his friends lived,” and my expression darkened slightly. “They killed all of them there,” he continued, his tone dropping. “And get this… there was no sign of forced entry in the second house either,” and I went still. “So what, they were invited in too?” the second man asked, frowning. “That’s what it looks like,” the first man replied. “Same pattern, and threaten them, get invited in, then…” he trailed off, shaking his head, and the second man let out a frustrated breath. “Why would something like this even happen in a neighborhood like this? It’s supposed to be quiet here,” and the first man scoffed. “Those boys? They weren’t saints, and they were hoodlums, always causing trouble, and I heard they were mixed up in some gang,” and “Then I guess that explains it,” the second man said. “Police are already calling it gang-related anyway, and no valuables were taken, nothing stolen,” and I slowly took another sip of my coffee, my mind already moving ahead. Gang-related, that’s what the police think, but I knew better, because this wasn’t random, and this wasn’t sloppy, and this was controlled, intentional, calculated, and if I had to guess… whoever did this wasn’t just feeding, and they were looking for something, or someone, and my eyes shifted toward the house, past the yellow tape, past the officers standing guard. If Juliet was involved… then I was already closer than I thought. Then I saw him: a man stepped out of the first house, lighting a cigarette as he walked, dressed in a clean, fitted suit that immediately set him apart from the uniformed officers, and the way he carried himself—calm, observant, slightly detached—told me everything I needed to know. Detective, and if anyone here had real information, it would be him, so I watched him for a moment as he exhaled smoke into the cold morning air, speaking briefly with one of the officers beside a police car, and my mind was already working. I couldn’t hypnotize him here, too many eyes, too many variables, so I came up with something better, and I turned away from the crowd and walked calmly toward the police car, adjusting my expression into something harmless—cooperative, even, and as I approached, I gave a slight smile. “Good morning, sir,” and he glanced at me, then dropped his cigarette to the ground, crushing it under his shoe, and his eyes scanned me quickly, cautious. “What do you want?” he asked bluntly, and “I think I saw something last night,” I said, keeping my tone just serious enough to hook his attention, and that did it, and his posture shifted slightly, curiosity taking over. “Go on,” and I leaned in just a bit, lowering my voice. “I’m not really comfortable talking about it out here… too many people,” I glanced toward the crowd for emphasis. “Maybe we could talk somewhere private?” He studied me for a second, weighing the decision, and I could almost see the thoughts running through his head—risk, credibility, opportunity, then he bit his lip slightly and nodded. “Alright, and let’s go in here,” and he opened the back door of the police vehicle, and I slid into the seat without hesitation, and a moment later, he followed, shutting the door behind him. Now… we were alone. “What did you see?” he asked, turning slightly toward me in the confined space of the car, and I didn’t answer immediately, and instead, I let my shoulders drop, and my breathing became uneven as I brought my hands up to my face, and I forced out a shaky breath, letting it tremble just enough to sound real, then I started faking tears, and I buried my face in my hands, and my body subtly shook, and from the corner of my awareness, I heard him grunt—uncomfortable, unsure. “It’s okay… it’s okay,” he said, his tone softening, and a moment later, I felt his hand land on my back, awkward but well-meaning, trying to comfort me, and that was my opening. Without warning, I grabbed his hand with both of mine, gripping it tightly. “Thank you so much,” I said, my voice still fragile. “You are so kind,” and then I raised my head, and our eyes met, and I didn’t look away, and his expression shifted almost instantly—confusion first, then stillness, and my gaze locked onto his, pulling him in, deeper and deeper, and the world outside the car faded, and the noise, the movement… everything reduced to just the space between us, and his pupils dilated, and his breathing slowed. Got you. “Tell me,” I said quietly, my voice now calm, controlled. “What do you know about the case so far?” He didn’t hesitate. “Three people,” he said flatly. “Two young males… and one young female, and they knocked on the first house at midnight, and the old lady opened the door,” and I listened carefully, my grip still firm on his hand. “They threatened her with a gun… forced her to invite them in, and she did,” his voice remained empty, mechanical. “They asked her to lead them to her son’s room, and when she refused… they knocked her unconscious,” and my jaw tightened slightly. “They went inside,” he continued. “Tied the husband up, and then they went to the son’s room… beat him badly, bloody, until he pissed himself,” and I felt something cold settle deeper in my chest. “Then they dragged him out of the house… took him to the next one, and no forced entry there either, which means…” “They made them invite them in too,” I finished quietly. “Yes,” he said, and a brief pause. “Then they lined the boys up,” he continued. “All of them… and shot them,” and silence filled the car, cold, heavy, deliberate, and I held his gaze for a moment longer, my mind racing. “And we found something else,” the detective continued, his voice still empty, controlled. “A bite mark… on the son’s neck, and it looked like a wild animal attacked him, deep, uneven… not human,” and I narrowed my eyes slightly. “But there were no traces of any animal in the house,” he went on. “No fur, no footprints, nothing, just the wound,” and interesting. “We also found signs that someone else was being held hostage in the room,” he added. “So for now, we think it was a kidnapping gone wrong,” and I stayed quiet for a second, processing everything, because a bite mark like that… that wasn’t a vampire, and that was something else. “Is that all?” I asked calmly. “There is a witness,” he said. “Lives across the street, and he claimed he saw two males and two females leaving the second house around 2:30 a.m,” and my focus sharpened instantly. “Four of them…” I muttered. “They all vanished into thin air,” the detective added flatly. “Probably nonsense,” and I ignored that last part. “Where is the witness now?” I asked. “In the crowd,” and without hesitation, he opened the car door and stepped out, walking straight toward the gathering, and I leaned back slightly in my seat, my mind already piecing things together. Two males, two females, a bite that was definitely vampiric, and someone held hostage, and this just got more complicated, and moments later, the door opened again, and the detective returned, guiding a teenage boy into the back seat with me, and the boy looked nervous, and his eyes darted around as if he wasn’t sure why he’d been singled out, and the detective shut the door and moved to the front passenger seat, silent, waiting, and the boy swallowed hard, glancing at me, and I gave him a calm, reassuring look, but inside… I was already preparing to pull the truth out of him. I looked at the boy and asked, “What’s your name?” “William,” he replied, his voice trembling slightly, and “William,” I said, keeping my tone calm, “Did you see the faces of the people who committed the murders?” He shook his head. “I… I was playing a video game on my phone when I heard four loud bangs, and I rushed to the window, and I saw a man carrying an unconscious girl on his back, and then… then they both disappeared, and another man came out, and he vanished too, and then a girl came out… she disappeared just like that, and I couldn’t believe my eyes, and I tell people, but no one believes me,” and I leaned closer. “I believe you, William, and do you remember their faces?” He hesitated, frowning. “Not vividly… it was dark, and they disappeared just a few seconds after stepping outside,” and I reached into my pocket and pulled out my phone, and I searched through my pictures, scrolling quickly until I found the one I needed—a photo of Juliet and me at a bowling alley in Tokyo, and I showed it to him, and William’s eyes widened, and he grabbed the phone with both hands, staring at the screen. “Yes… this is her, and this is the girl that disappeared right in front of me!” Relief washed through me, and my chest tightened with a surge of determination, and finally, I knew it now: I’ll find her, and I’ll find Juliet.