Chapter 54

We were walking along the cobblestone streets of Beauclair, led by Gaspard to the place where the piece of the monster that Captain Damien had managed to wound was kept. Throughout the journey, Gaspard kept firing questions at me, turning the conversation into a genuine interrogation.

"Witcher, what was the most dangerous monster you've ever fought?" he asked enthusiastically.

"A mutated werewolf," I replied, keeping it short.

"Witcher, are your white hair natural?"

"No."

"Witcher, is it true you're… good in bed? There are rumors circulating about that."

"I wouldn't know. I've never tried."

I barely finished speaking when Gaspard threw me a pitying look, letting out a little "Oh…" that immediately irritated me. I decided to change the subject.

"And Baldéric? He doesn't seem very talkative."

Gaspard heaved a sigh before answering:

"He got his throat badly injured in a duel gone wrong. The doctor says he'll never speak again."

Baldéric, who had been silent all along, let out a brief grunt, a barely audible "Grmph." Gaspard leaned toward me to whisper:

"Women like him, you know… He's the kind who enjoys being told what to do, and since he can't complain, some find that appealing."

At those words, Baldéric looked like he was about to draw his sword. Gaspard jumped back in alarm, raising his hands apologetically, while Baldéric slid his weapon back into its scabbard with a disgruntled air.

I observed them for a moment, a faint smile touching my lips. Despite their teasing, there was clearly genuine camaraderie between them. But my amusement was short-lived: we had arrived at our destination.

Gaspard opened the door to a large stone building, and a smell of blood and dampness immediately hit my nostrils: the morgue.

On several tables lay corpses, partly covered with sheets. Families stood by, silently mourning their loved ones, tears in their eyes. Most appeared to be elderly or people who had died from illness. Gaspard waved for me to continue forward.

"After you, witcher."

I approached an adjacent room, where Captain Damien de la Tour stood a burly man with a shaved head and a neatly trimmed beard. His gaze was hard and grave, reflecting his rank and the responsibilities on his shoulders.

"Captain Damien de la Tour," he introduced himself, extending his hand.

"Aiden, witcher from the School of the Wolf," I replied, giving his hand a brief shake.

Much to my surprise, the captain tightened his grip, his eyes suddenly sharpening.

"To be honest, I'm not convinced we need you here. But the Duchess insisted, so I'll cooperate… even if I don't like you."

I pulled my hand free with a swift movement, keeping my voice level, though I was already a bit annoyed.

"I'm not here to make friends, Captain. I'm here to put an end to these abductions."

A heavy silence settled in, feeding the tension between us. Gaspard cleared his throat, visibly uneasy.

"Captain, I think the witcher needs to see the monster piece."

Damien nodded curtly, then led us over to a table where a man and a woman were examining a piece of gray flesh using tongs and small vials.

"This is Doctor Albert and his assistant, Criméa," said Damien. "They're trying to figure out what kind of creature this… thing came from."

Doctor Albert, a thin man with round glasses, approached me with eyes sparkling with enthusiasm.

"A witcher! Wonderful! I'd love to learn more about monsters. You're a living encyclopedia, aren't you?"

I simply withdrew my hand from his, politely but somewhat uncomfortably, as he seemed overly eager. Damien, obviously used to this, cleared his throat to bring the conversation back on track.

"Later, Doctor. Let Aiden examine the specimen first."

Acknowledging him with a nod, I focused on the piece of flesh. However, before I really looked at it, my instincts alerted me to something amiss. I turned and met Criméa's gaze. A shiver ran down my spine: there was something unsettling about her, an aura I couldn't quite identify.

Pretending not to notice, I shifted my attention back to the table. Removing my glove, I carefully felt the texture of the skin, aware that Doctor Albert was watching me with a curiosity that bordered on awkward. The blood was still warm. The skin was elastic far too elastic for a normal creature.

"Hmm," I muttered to myself. "That already rules out quite a few monsters."

Next, I took a small vial from my pouch and dripped a few drops onto the wound. A sizzling sound ensued, then the flesh healed almost instantly. I clenched my teeth.

"Ekimmaras and katakans couldn't handle that mixture," I explained. "This is more powerful than I expected."

Damien tilted his head, intrigued. Before I could say more, I noticed a symbol appearing under the candlelight: a stylized red drop that vanished when the flame was moved away.

"Any idea what that stands for?" the captain asked, frowning.

"No. It doesn't match any vampiric clan I'm aware of. But… it confirms my suspicions."

I looked up at him, about to say the word "vampire," when a sudden warning prickled along my spine. Without thinking, I knocked Damien to the ground just as a crimson liquid blade whizzed overhead in a lethal curve.

Doctor Albert wasn't as fortunate: his head went flying across the room in a burst of blood. Horrified cries erupted among those present as Damien and I picked ourselves up, still dazed.

Gaspard was hurled violently against the wall. Baldéric tried to help, but was swept aside with appalling ease. I drew my sword and cast the Yrden sign to slow the creature.

A dark shape with glowing red eyes lunged at me with inhuman strength. Damien seized the opportunity to strike from behind, but the shadow dissolved into a swirling mist, only to reappear behind him. It grabbed Damien and flung him at me. Even so, I managed to catch him, partially cushioning his impact, but we were both thrown against the wall with a dull thud.

In a last flash of awareness, I saw the creature snatch the piece of flesh from the table. Its eyes met mine, almost tauntingly, before it vanished into darkness.

"A higher vampire," I whispered, still disoriented.

Pausing only to make sure Damien was somewhat okay, I dashed after the monster. It was already in the next room, overturning tables and carts. Drawing on my magic, I traced a sign of ice on the floor, creating a slippery surface that let me glide and catch up to her despite her supernatural speed.

The chase led us outside the building, then toward a canal lined with boats and wooden crates. The vampire moved by leaping from one vessel to another, using what seemed like shadow magic. I skated across the ice, barely dodging the barrels she hurled at me. More than once, I nearly collided with terrified bystanders who were fleeing the chaos.

When she reached the shore, I took advantage of a split second to fling my sword at her. The blade impaled her shoulder, drawing a feral scream from her throat. She shot me a hateful look, then, without hesitation, tore off her own arm at the shoulder, letting out a furious cry. She slipped away into a narrow, pitch-black alley.

I considered the alley for a moment—it was too cramped for a proper fight without risking my life. I retrieved my sword, out of breath, as guards in colorful uniforms finally arrived, Damien at the forefront.

"Where is she, witcher?" he demanded, panting and furious.

"She went that way," I said, indicating the alley with a jerk of my chin. "I didn't go in because it's too tight for a fair fight, especially against a higher vampire."

Damien cast a dark look at the passage. "Damn it… I should've seen that coming."

I shrugged, holding up the bloody arm the creature had left behind. "Not your fault. Even I wasn't expecting a higher vampire. We all grew up hearing myths of garlic and wooden stakes… but it's a lot more complicated than that."

"So vampires, then," Damien murmured skeptically. "And it can move in broad daylight? How is that even possible?"

I shook my head. "I'm not sure yet. There are stories of higher vampires who can walk in sunlight, but it's exceedingly rare. Maybe an enchantment, or a unique mutation."

The captain, clearly frustrated, turned to his men, telling them to secure the area. Then he seemed to remember Gaspard and Baldéric.

"They're injured but alive," he informed me.

I breathed out in relief. "That's good. As for me, I'll examine this arm more closely. I also need to figure out the meaning of that symbol. I'll meet you at the castle or the count's estate if you prefer."

Damien nodded. "I'll report back to the Duchess. She needs to know what we're dealing with. Don't take too long, we can't afford more disappearances."

I acknowledged him with a nod as he left with his men, their faces taut with tension and fear.

Alone now with the severed arm, I noticed the symbol was more visible than ever, as if the flesh was reacting to open air. Pressing my lips together, I felt both fascination and worry. Clearly, this vampire was anything but ordinary.

Just as I sheathed my sword, a low voice called out from behind me:

"Witcher… Are you by any chance related to Geralt? What you're holding I believe I can help you analyze it."

I spun around, on guard. In the shadows, a figure barely lit by the last rays of sunlight was calmly watching me. This was only the beginning, and I had no idea where my path would lead me next.