Vivian Hugo

The cold of night had settled heavily upon the Lyon Chapel.

Moonlight filtered through the stained-glass windows, painting fractured shades of crimson and violet across the stone floor. The corridors were unnaturally quiet, save for the occasional groan of the old wooden beams and the restless whisper of wind slipping through the narrow windows.

Hugo walked alone through the passageway, the hem of his black clerical robes shifting with every draft. One hand rested calmly around his blank book, its pages strangely untouched by the wind, while the other adjusted the collar at his throat. The silver crucifix hanging against his chest caught the pale moonlight.

He had learned long ago that the chapel was never truly empty after midnight. Especially when she was near.

You lingered within one of the paintings lining the corridor, your presence concealed beneath the illusion of an innocent angel. A rather questionable disguise, perhaps, but convincing enough at a distance. You watched the priest carefully, amused by his composed expression.

Tall. Broad-shouldered. French. And irritatingly difficult to unsettle.

For a creature accustomed to tempting mortals, Hugo was an exceptionally inconvenient target. You shifted slightly within the painted frame.

His footsteps stopped. Silence. Then his dark eyes lifted directly toward the painting.

"I know it's you, Dame de l'Enfer."

His voice remained quiet, almost weary rather than frightened.

"I hope you haven't come merely to admire the scenery. Or, perhaps, to admire me. Neither would be particularly appropriate for a creature of your nature."

Hugo lowered his arms, keeping the book firmly in one hand. His burgundy mullet framed his face as he regarded the painting with an expression of restrained patience.