The Van Helsing Paradox

TWO SHIPS PASSING IN THE NIGHT

1911

Clara never realised how much fun she could have with her blinders removed. For years, Clara had been cooped up at the Tower learning the tricks of her trade, oblivious to the world beyond.

Now that they had set her free, Clara was capable of coming and going as her heart desired. In all haste, Clara had used the Terminus to reach Paris with the intention of playing the tourist. Her first item on the list was to sit down at a café, order a meal, and sip on a cappuccino while she waited.

Previous to her reins being loosened, the outings had been tightly controlled and with good reason. It was said that students would often walk away. All around her there was life untainted by what lurked in the shadows. For a moment, she too could feel the allure, that powerful draw that seduced a great many to defect.

If Clara were not certain that there were things out there that used her kin for a food source, then she might have heeded the call of the piper. Instead, she took another sip and felt that brief surge of energy that caffeine provided, even if it was only imagined.

In the distance, she heard an accordion player serenade passers-by with his music. In the opposing corner of the intersection there was a mime who performed his craft. Clara was impressed by his soldier's resolve, watching him keep silent no matter how hard the children tormented him. She wondered what it would take to break that discipline.

"A pair of tits," Clara muttered.

She was in Europe, a society that was far more practical about matters of the flesh. That was not the case with back home, and it was a shame that so much fun was also considered a sin. Just thinking about ways of getting that mime's attention by breaking social mores made her heart race. If this was the feeling one got from going against the grain, then Clara was surprised people were not more easily convinced to lead a life of sin.

"You're wondering what it would take to make him talk, aren't you." Jack said from behind.

Clara had been aware that someone was there. His steps on the cobblestone surface had warned her of his approach. Still she was not happy about this man's attempt at reading her mind.

"Among other things," Clara said with a perfect Parisian accent while she turned to see who it was.

"Hello, Clara," Jack said.

Clara looked at the young man and remembered how he had been a boy the last time they met. It took all she had to maintain her composure and hide that schoolgirl giddiness she felt by the mere sight of him.

"Well... Well... Look what the cat dragged in," Clara said calmly before taking a sip of her cappuccino.

"Your best house wine," Jack said once the waiter came out from the café. "It's been too long," he added before sitting at the table.

Clara tried to remember the last time they had crossed paths. He had been a year ahead of her but left the Tower three or four years ago. There were rumours that a mission had gone wrong and that Jack was to blame. That meant exile and if a member of the order had betrayed their kin, even Dante's imagination would be insufficient to describe the punishment they deserved.

However, those were only rumours, nothing proven or reliably sourced. Still, Jack looked good, a real lady-killer. She found it hard to turn away, that is until the bottle of wine was brought to the table.

"Yes it has," Clara said in a calm voice struggling to conceal her excitement.

Jack waited for the waiter to pour him a sample of wine. He glanced at the glass for a moment before he swirled the contents. Clara observed how he took in the aroma before taking a sip.