Chapter 67 La Nuit Éternelle

Chapter 67 La Nuit Éternelle
The past two weeks had been long… too long, and hard in ways I wasn’t prepared for. Ayara lay on the bed, barely conscious, and her breathing was shallow, and her body was weak in a way that didn’t make sense for someone like her, and we had tried everything—every idea, every remedy—but nothing worked, and we had no clue what was wrong with her, and that was the scariest part. We had already said our goodbyes once, and that alone should’ve been enough, and Timi had taken her back to Antarctica, back to Nhim—the only place we believed could save her, and the sacred spirit shrine, the source of their strength… it was supposed to restore her, but when he got there… everything was gone. A war had broken out between the Nhim and the Braves, and by the time he arrived, it was already too late, and the kingdom had been destroyed—reduced to ruins, and the sacred shrine… gone, and the energy of the spirits had vanished completely, and there was nothing left, no power, no hope, so he had no choice but to bring her back. And now… now she lay here, fading slowly right in front of us, and I sat beside her, holding her hand gently, feeling how cold it had become, and she looked peaceful, like she was just asleep—but we all knew better, because this wasn’t sleep, and this was something else, something worse. The room was silent, and Timi stood nearby, his expression heavy, and his eyes were fixed on her like he was blaming himself, and Juliet stood on the other side, arms folded, unusually quiet, and none of us knew what to say, because what could you even say in a moment like this? Then the door opened, and Francis walked in, and we all turned to him immediately, and there was something different in his expression—focused, almost certain. “I think I might have an idea,” he said, and the room shifted instantly, with hope, dangerous… but necessary, and we all fixed our attention on him, and he stepped further in, glancing briefly at Ayara before looking back at us. “There’s a pack of vampires,” he began. “They came from different parts of the world… and somehow found each other here in Paris,” and he paused for a second. “They do everything together,” Francis continued. “Hunting, hosting gothic gatherings that usually spiral into an orgy… playing twisted games like chess, but with hypnotized humans as the pieces, and they even practice dark magic,” and he let out a faint breath. “They’re… a very unusual group, and dangerous too, but strangely… close, almost like a family,” and no one interrupted him. “They’re all lesser vampires,” he added. “So they only move at night, but recently… a new member joined them, and someone who can walk in the daylight,” and that made me frown slightly. “I haven’t gathered much information on him yet,” Francis went on. “So I don’t know what his deal is, but the group—” he paused briefly. “They call themselves La Nuit Éternelle,” and Timi crossed his arms. “And why exactly are you telling us this?” Francis looked at him, then at all of us. “Because there’s one particular member of that pack,” he said. “Her name is Jane,” and my expression didn’t change—but my focus sharpened. “There’s something different about her,” and I spoke this time. “What makes her different?” Francis didn’t hesitate. “She’s a master hypnotist, and not just good—exceptional, and she can control multiple people at once,” and that alone was impressive, but then he continued. “And recently… I heard she can even hypnotize a vampire,” and that changed everything, and Juliet straightened slightly. “That’s impossible, and even Asogun—the All Father himself—couldn’t do something like that,” and Timi shook his head. “Not even the Count can pull that off, and you’re telling me a lesser vampire can compel vampires?” Francis raised his hands slightly. “I know how it sounds, and I didn’t believe it at first either,” and he looked at me. “But it’s true, and she’s… different, like a glitch in nature, and she really can do these things,” and silence filled the room again, then I spoke. “Alright,” I said slowly. “Let’s say she’s really that powerful…” I leaned forward slightly, my eyes narrowing. “How does that help us?” Francis pulled a chair closer and sat down, leaning forward slightly. “What if,” he began, “We get her to hypnotize Ayara… to keep the blood down?” Silence followed, heavy, uncertain, and we all processed it, then Timi spoke, his tone firm. “She’s from a werewolf bloodline, and you can’t hypnotize a werewolf,” and Francis didn’t flinch. “You can’t hypnotize a vampire either,” he replied calmly. “But Jane can,” and that shut him up for a second. “Maybe,” Francis continued, “She can do the same for Ayara,” and we all exchanged looks, with doubt, hope, risk, and I turned to Timi. “It’s worth a try,” and he let out a slow sigh, clearly not convinced but out of options, then he looked at Francis. “How do you even know these people?” Francis smiled faintly, almost like he was remembering something distant. “Because I was one of them,” he said. “A long time ago,” and that caught our attention. “But then,” he continued, “I found the love of my life… your grandmother,” and Timi frowned slightly. “And I realized,” Francis went on, “Everything I had been searching for… the reason I joined that pack in the first place—I found it in Waje,” and his voice softened. “So I left, and I changed my ways, and I chose her,” and Timi let out a small grunt. “I still can’t believe you’re with my grandmother,” and Francis chuckled lightly. “The heart wants what the heart wants,” and I cut in before that conversation went any further. “Alright, alright,” I said. “Where can we find this La Nit of yours?” Francis shook his head slightly. “La Nuit Éternelle,” he corrected. “And it’s 4 p.m. right now, so they’re most likely asleep,” and I nodded. “Then we go at midnight,” and “Exactly,” he said. “But we can’t just walk in like this, and we need to dress up,” and Timi raised a brow. “Why?” Francis leaned back slightly. “They’re hosting a masquerade tonight, and everyone will be masked, so we need to look the part,” and I frowned slightly. “And where exactly are we going to find those?” Francis waved it off. “Don’t worry about that, and I still have plenty from my days with them, and they should be somewhere in the storage room,” and he stood up from the chair, stretching slightly. “Well,” he said, heading toward the door, “I need to get back to Waje, and she’s been asking for a massage for days now… and I plan to finally give it to her,” and Timi let out another grunt, shaking his head. “You really didn’t need to give us that last piece of information,” and Francis only smiled, unfazed, and walked out. The room fell quiet again, and Timi folded his arms. “Seems like we’re putting our trust in the hands of a master hypnotist… lesser vampire,” and Juliet glanced at him. “Come on, and it’s worth a try,” and I didn’t say anything, and instead, I turned back to Ayara and gently took her hand again, and it was still cold… too cold, and she lay there, completely still, and her face was calm—almost too calm, peaceful, beautiful, like she was just asleep, like some kind of cursed fairytale, so I lowered my head slightly and whispered under my breath, “It’s going to work,” because it had to. The hours passed faster than I expected, and before long, it was time, and we met Francis and made our way to his storage room, and the place was quiet, dimly lit, tucked away from the rest of the house, and when we stepped inside, the first thing that caught our attention was a massive brown wardrobe standing against the wall, and it looked old… but important, and Francis walked up to it without hesitation and pulled the doors open. Inside— it was like stepping into another world, with rows upon rows of outfits hanging neatly, and each one was more extravagant than the last, with dark, elegant suits in shades of black, deep red, midnight blue, and silver accents, and long coats with intricate patterns, velvet textures, silk linings—clothes made for nights of power, seduction, and control, and on the other side were masks, masquerade masks of every kind, some simple and sleek, others detailed with gold trims, feathers, sharp edges, and designs that almost looked alive under the light. I raised a brow slightly. “Looks like you’re still hung up on your old life,” and Francis chuckled. “Take your pick,” and just like that, he stepped away and left us to it, and we moved closer, each of us scanning through the collection, and I chose a fitted black suit—clean, sharp, with a long dark coat layered over it, and it had just enough detail to stand out without being loud, and for the mask, I picked a sleek black one with subtle silver lining around the edges, something that hid just enough of my face. Timi went for something heavier—a darker, more imposing outfit, with a long black coat with deep textures, almost military in structure, paired with a bold mask that covered more of his face, giving him a colder, more intimidating presence, and Juliet chose elegance, a flowing black gown that fit her perfectly, smooth and refined with just a hint of danger in its design, and her mask was delicate but striking—black with fine patterns that framed her eyes beautifully. Once we were done, we stepped out of the storage room, and I headed to my room, changed quickly, and took a moment to look at myself, then I left, and we all met at the entrance of the mansion, fully dressed, and for a brief second, no one spoke, because we looked… different, like we belonged to that world, then the sound of an engine broke the silence, and Francis’ limo was waiting, and without another word— we stepped in. We drove in silence, and about an hour into the ride, I began to hear it— soft violin music, faint at first… then clearer, so I leaned back slightly. “We’re close,” I muttered, and moments later, the limo slowed to a stop, and we stepped out, and the house in front of us was massive—easily one of the largest I had seen in Paris, and a wide compound stretched around it, surrounded by tall, iron gates that stood open like an invitation, or a warning, and lights glowed through the tall windows, and flickering shadows moved behind them, and expensive cars lined the compound—sleek, polished, each one more extravagant than the last. This wasn’t just a gathering, and it was something else, so we walked in, and the moment we stepped inside, the atmosphere swallowed us whole, and the house was filled with people—all dressed in black, all wearing masks, and elegant gowns, sharp suits, feathers, silk, velvet… everything moved in rhythm with the music, and the interior had been transformed into a grand ballroom—dim lighting, candles, chandeliers, shadows dancing across the walls, and it felt alive, and dangerous. Francis leaned in slightly. “Move around, and I’m going to speak with the hosts,” and before we could respond, he disappeared into the crowd, just like that, so we exchanged brief glances… then split up, and I walked forward, blending in, and my eyes scanned everything, and a waiter passed by, holding a tray filled with champagne glasses, so I reached out, took one, and continued walking, taking a slow sip as I observed the room. People laughed, and danced, and whispered, but beneath it all… something felt off, so I moved through different corners of the house—past couples swaying to the music, past small groups engaged in quiet conversations, past shadows that lingered a little too long, then— a faint whistle, and I paused, because it came from the direction of a staircase leading upward, away from the main hall, so I looked up, and Francis stood there, and beside him was a man dressed entirely in white—a sharp contrast to everyone else, with a white suit and a white mask, and he stood still, composed… watching, and one of the hosts. Francis caught my eye and signaled for me to come over, and before moving, I quickly scanned the room, and Juliet and Timi had both noticed too, and their attention was already fixed on the same spot, so without a word, we regrouped and moved toward the stairs together, and we left the noise behind as we climbed up, and the music faded with each step, and at the top, a dark hallway stretched ahead of us, quiet, too quiet, and Francis and the man in white walked ahead, leading the way, and we followed. They stopped at a door and entered, and Francis turned back slightly and gestured for us to come in, and I glanced at the others briefly… then stepped forward. “…Am I the only one who finds this place super creepy?” I muttered. Juliet froze beside me. “I’m having a strong feeling of déjà vu,” she said quietly, and that didn’t sound good, but we stepped in anyway, and the room was nothing like the ballroom downstairs, and it was quieter… darker, and only a few dim lights lit the space, casting long shadows across the walls, and the decorations were minimal, almost deliberate—like this room wasn’t meant for celebration, but for something more private, more serious. In the center stood eight figures, six men and two women, all dressed in white ball attire, all wearing white masks, and they stood in a loose formation, calm, composed… watching, and Francis stood beside them, waiting, then I heard it— heavy breathing, so I turned, and Juliet was panting, and her chest was rising and falling rapidly, so I leaned closer. “What’s going on with you?” Her eyes were wide, scanning the room like she had seen a ghost. “I think he’s here,” she whispered. “He’s right here,” and a chill ran through me. “Who is here?” I asked, and before she could answer— the man in white stepped forward slightly. “Everyone,” he said calmly, “Take off your masks,” and at the same time, we all reached up, and removed them, and Juliet suddenly shook her head, stepping back slightly. “No… no… no…” and the atmosphere shifted instantly, with suspicion, and the man turned slightly toward Francis. “What’s going on?” Francis smiled casually. “Nate, it’s nothing,” and Timi frowned. “Juliet, why are you being so paranoid?” She didn’t respond, and instead— she raised her hand slowly… and pointed. “To him,” and we followed her finger, and a tall man stood among the group, still, silent, and he was already looking at her, like he recognized her, like he had been waiting, and Juliet’s voice trembled slightly. “There he is… my half-brother,” and the room went completely still. “The Dhampir…” she continued, her voice low but clear, “…The one prophesied to kill us all,” and all eyes turned to him, and he narrowed his gaze, studying her carefully, then he spoke. “Juliet…?”