Thick fog billowed over your ankles as you crept around the side of the Boudreaux family crypt, your sense of smell having led you there.  “Diabolically ingenious,” you muttered to yourself. Keeping Jongin’s body in the middle of a graveyard ensured that you wouldn’t have noticed unless you were specifically looking for the scent.  Turning to Jongin, you nodded.

He disappeared, off to find Boudreaux, and taunt him with the knowledge that the game was up.

Turning back to the double doors you looked left and right, and then, delicately lifting the hem of your dress, kicked them open. Your preternatural eyes quickly adjusted to the dark, and you saw the door set into the floor of the mausoleum, that led to the crypt below.  Gripping the cool iron rung, you pulled open the door, letting it fall back with an impossibly loud, reverberating clang. A shiver of revulsion ran through you, especially now that you were hit with the full aroma of Boudreaux past.

Slowly, you descended the stairs into the crypt, stopping once, to light your lantern.  You were easily able to see in low light, but not no light. Following Jongin’s scent, you found him quickly, tucked into one of the wall vaults. 

With a cry, you were on him, lifting him from the recess, and gently setting him down on the floor, so you could thoroughly check his body for damage.  Sighing, you collapsed back, your legs weak with relief when you found none.

You didn’t have much time for reprieve, however, as you soon heard Boudreaux swiftly approach.  Jongin appeared next to you, looking at you in concern, before looking down to see his body, lying at your feet. 

“I’ve checked everything.  You’re in perfect condition.  Not even the merest scratch.”

His eyes filled with tears as he slowly crouched down closer to his body. 

“See, mon amoureux?” you whispered.  “Soon, this will all be over, and we’ll be able to put all of this horror behind us.”

There was the soft rasp of a step, and you both lifted your faces to see Boudreaux slowly sauntering down the stairs. 

He gave a rueful chuckle.  “Ma foi! You’re even cleverer than I thought, mademoiselle! Mais, what to do?  Clearly, my hopes for this wretch to haunt you until you came to me for protection backfired.”  He turned to Jongin, his eyes hardening. “You!” he growled. “You have ruined everything! Contemptible phantasm daring to play the part of the heroic lover!” 

You stepped in front of Jongin, and Boudreaux’s anger subsided. 

Visibly calming himself, he adjusted the lapels of his smoking jacket, and smoothed down the front of his shirt.  “Eh, bien, pathetic shade...I suppose that there is no longer any need of you. Step aside, mademoiselle, while I dispose of this apparition.”

“No,” you answered quietly, but firmly.

A bemused smile spread across Boudreaux’s face.  “Mon amour, I know that you feel some lingering attachment to that moribund pile of meat and bone at your lovely slippered feet, but I assure you that those feelings are misplaced.  I don’t want to have to restrain you, so, s’il vous plait?” He gestured for you to step aside.

Taking a deep breath, you steadied your nerve.  It was time for you to play your hand. Tilting your head to the side, you took a slow step in his direction.  “Bastien, what happened to you?”

Boudreaux’s head jerked, and his pupils dilated as his gaze fixed on you.  “Who told you to call me that?”

“Whom do you think?”

“No!” he breathed, his face paling even further than you thought possible.  “I have waited...all these years, and she has never--not once--shown herself to me!  This is--utterly impossible! I pled, I raved, I went mad with longing, but she never returned for me!”

“The dead do not haunt the living, monsieur.  You know that as surely as anyone.”

“Then, how?!”

“She came to me in a dream.”  You took another tentative step, wary to put yourself too far from Jongin’s body, for fear that Boudreaux would attack it.  “She wanted me to tell you...that she is not angry with you...however, she is greatly disappointed.”

His face crumpled.  “Geneviève! My own sweet little gentle Geneviève!  If only you knew how I’ve longed for you!”

“She knows, Bastien.  She knows...everything that you have done.  Every life taken. Every depredation enjoyed.  Every foul dissipation. She knows...and it pains her.”  Here, you were taking a bit of artistic license, but he need not know that.  “She wishes desperately to see you again. Will you heed her wishes? Or shall you turn your back on her once more?” 

Stepping ever closer, you held out your arms to him, and he came to you, resting his head in your bosom like a child, as he cried.  “Shhh...shhh, petit...I know. I know… It has been hard, hein?”

His body was wracked with sobs.

“Mais Bastien, the hour has come for you to decide.  Will you take responsibility f