Blacque-Bleu

by Belinda McBride

  “Not consciously. When I first escaped him, I tried to find you. I thought you must be in Europe. Yves was always so sure you’d go home. He watched the family for years, certain that you’d show up. Instead I went back to visit family. He saw you in me, I suppose.” She dragged another chair over and set it just feet away from Bleu, then straddled it and rested her chin on her arms.

  “Tell me.” He didn’t have the heart to question her, but he needed to know. He needed to know it all.

  “He grabbed me, managed to exchange blood in the shrubbery, just feet away from a sidewalk filled with students. Afterward he took me up into the Pyrenees Mountains. He had a quaint little love nest up there.” She rolled her eyes up to look at him. “He’s insane, you know.”

  “I know. I…” He shook his head. “When we were together during the war, he had lapses. I didn’t know what he was. I assumed it was the stress of the war. He’d sit for hours, saying nothing, seeing nothing, and then he’d suddenly return, unaware that any time had passed. He’d become furious when he saw that the night had gone by.” He’d also had his dangerous moments, times when he flew into a rage at Oliver. Often savaged bodies would be found in the back alleys of Paris after one of his furies. Love had slowly fused with fear, yet Oliver had been unable to leave Yves behind. Not until he’d found himself dying in a hospital.

  She looked down at the floor. “He was…what he was, I suppose. A vampire. He taught me to hunt and hide. He taught me to control my wildness early on.”

  Bleu shook his head sadly. “He turned me against my will also. Unfortunately I couldn’t remain in Paris. I was boarded into a coffin. Yves paid a servant to accompany me to the United States. He fed me and did his best, but in the end, the poor man fled in fear of his life.”

  “Shit. How did you survive?”

  “Sheer dumb luck. The influenza pandemic came at the same time. Chaos and death were all around. I stayed in large cities and moved often. I lived in alleys and in the basements of abandoned buildings, finding shelter as best I could. One day I woke, my mind clear, and I remembered all I had once been and what Yves had done to me.” He looked at her miserably. “Did he…? Were you…?”

  “Yes. Yes, there’s no avoiding sex when feeding is involved, especially at the beginning. But I had a pretty solid awareness underneath all the early insanity. He was also foolish enough to have kept my passport and everything I had in my travel pouch. One night when we were hunting in Nice, I escaped. I stole a motorcycle, of all things.” She grinned and shook her head. “Managed to make it to Italy. I don’t think he followed me too hard. You were the true love of his life.”

  “Make that the object of his obsession.” He looked up at her. “I have followed the family as best I could. I was saddened to discover you’d vanished. Yet you’re here.”

  “Yup. Here I am.” She studied his face. “I’ll just be around till my bike is working. Then I’ll get out of your hair.”

  “Don’t count on it. Arcada has taken an interest in you.”

  “Huh?” She sat upright. “Arcada? That’s the town, right?”

  He grinned and stood up, stripping out of his leather jacket. “There’s something to the town…a presence… I don’t know how to say it. Just something. When I arrived over the city boundary, I knew it was my home. I immediately purchased this building complex and set up a business. In all, I’ve had few problems here.”

  “Well, I didn’t feel anything. My bike just gave out.” She stared at him suspiciously. “It runs fine when I’m not planning on going anywhere out of town.”

  “Then you should stay put for now.” He slipped a work shirt on and stepped into the storeroom, then pulled out a length of expensive upholstery for cutting. He laid it out on the broad worktable and began taking measurements. “There are many houses here that have basement apartments. I’m sure you can rent short-term.”

  “Well damn.” She got up and leaned on the table, watching him. “You own these buildings?”

  “It’s not widely known. I wanted an income property without dealing with homeowners and the problems that come with residential tenancy.”

  She turned away from him and leaned against the table. She was angry. That didn’t surprise him at all—he was the source of her current life, and now she was trapped. She turned back to look at him.

  “How do I get out of here?”

  “You can walk. Hitchhike. Push the bike until you’re out of town. It’s not holding you captive, April. It just likes you.”

  She relaxed a bit. “Okay, I can deal with that. So, the big guy told me no hunting inside city limits.”

  “I’m afraid if you feed from any but a willing donor, you’ll become quite ill. If you attack or assault, you’ll be rendered unconscious.” He looked up from his work. “I learned that the hard way.”

  She laughed. “So you aren’t such a gentleman after all.”

  “No, I am not a gentle man.” He began his first cut. “There are bars outside the city limits. The shifters have places outside where they hold their pack challenges. There are also some good-size cities within driving distance. It’s an inconvenience, but one grows accustomed.”

  “Is the werewolf yours?”

  For the first time, he felt primal, predatory hostility toward her. He looked up, knowing the beast was in his eyes. She was no longer his great-granddaughter—his kin. She was a trespasser. He straightened, and she took a step backward.

  “Okay…okay, message received. He’s yours.” She continued to back off. “Damn. I’m sorry, Oliver.”

  It took a moment to cool down, and he leaned on the table, feeling his heart return to normal. Bleu squeezed his eyes shut.

  “So it’s like that.” Slowly she returned and rested her hands on the cloth-covered table. “I’m sorry. It didn’t end well?”

  “It didn’t have time to begin. I waited…too long.”

  “Look at me, Oliver.” He swallowed and then looked over to where she stood. She was beautiful and so like Stella. In that moment, he realized that even when death took one person, that person lived on in others. Even though he’d been taken from his family, he’d lived on, as had Stella.

  “You look so much like her. You behave like her too.”

  “You loved my great-grandmother?”

  He nodded. “Very much. I cheated, though. When I died, my last thoughts were not happy ones. I wished I could undo all the harm I’d done.” He gazed at her steadily. “I thought to lure Blacque into my life as…food. And for convenient sex. I meant to use him until I no longer needed him. But his character… I misjudged my feelings and the strength of his character. He is noble and selfless, and in spite of his appearance, he is the gentlest soul I’ve ever met. He’s suffered because of me.”

  “You ended up hurting as well. That’s pretty obvious.” She leaned over and ruffled his hair. “Sucks when the spider falls for the fly.” She dropped her hand and looked up at him. The hungry expression on her face had nothing to do with food.

  “You are so damned handsome. I’ve seen photos…heard stories about you. Nothing could have prepared me for meeting you in person.”

  “You mean—” He broke off, overwhelmed by emotion. “I wasn’t forgotten?”

  “Never. You were listed as missing in action. Great-grandmother Stella told my grandpa that she knew exactly when you died. She said she woke up unable to breathe. And then you were gone.” She reached out and touched his cool fingers. “She never stopped loving you, even after she moved on and remarried. She said you were her best friend ever.”

  “And I betrayed that friendship.”

  She sighed. “You were a boy. You were a boy thrust into hell. Then you fell in with a predator like Yves.” She looked down, unable to meet his eyes. “He told me he thought you were much younger…perhaps seventeen. He saw your sexual curiosity and took advantage, Oliver.”

  “If I hadn’t been forced to leave Paris, he’d have eventually tired of me.”

  “And
then he’d probably have killed you for real.” She slipped her hand over his and squeezed. “Then I’d never have met you at all.” She raised an arched brow. “Being a vampire isn’t what I’d have asked for, but in all, it’s not so bad. I look pretty damn good for a middle-aged broad!”

  He smiled and turned his hand over, clasping hers. “For all the danger, I am grateful you’ve come here. I want to know you. I want to know about your family.”

  “Your family.” She slipped her hand loose. “Where are you hunting tomorrow?”

  “I rotate. I’m thinking about the Roadhouse. It’s a run-down place a few miles out of town. Ladies’ night on Tuesdays, gay night on Thursdays.”

  “Right. I’ll head in the other direction, then.” She flushed slightly. “No offense, but you know…hunting brings on other appetites—” He laughed quietly. “You look like my little brother rather than my great-grandfather. Either way, it’d just be too awkward.”

  They walked outside together, and she gazed up at the sky and then out to the forest that rose into the hills. “This place is different. I have no idea how to go about life in a place like this.”

  He scented the air, letting it tell the story of the night’s surroundings.

  “You’re welcome here when I’m working. Sometimes when I’m not hunting, I just go out and run the night.” It would be nice to have her company. She felt like kin. He’d never have dreamed that was possible. Not with another vampire.

  She mounted her motorcycle and sat with the helmet resting in her lap. “I used to live in the desert. Sometimes I’d ride out as far as I could go and then just lie out there, looking at the sky. The next night, I’d paint what I saw.”

  That’s right. She’d been in art school when she’d vanished. Perhaps she’d stay here for a while and paint what she saw in Arcada. Bleu was fairly certain she wouldn’t be around long.

  Her motorcycle started up quietly, and she rode away, skimming around the corner of the building and into the night.

  He’s out there.

  Blacque looked up from the bare wood of his kitchen table. The wolf whispered to him gently, urging him to get up, to shift and run with Bleu as they had weeks ago. The wolf didn’t have his self-imposed constraints. It wanted to be at the side of the vampire. It wanted Blacque to pull out of his funk, to live and be happy.

  He finished the beer and set the empty next to the other five that were lined up in a neat row. He’d been doing this a lot lately—coming in from work, killing off a six-pack in hopes that he’d be able to sleep. Then when he did finally drift away, it was usually in his battered recliner or stretched out on the couch.

  After that last time with Bleu, he’d stripped the bed, laundered it right down to the mattress pad, yet he still smelled the vampire in his room. He hadn’t changed the bedding downstairs. He spent hours down there pumping iron or working his fists bloody on the bag, letting the smell of Bleu sink right into every pore.

  He pushed back his chair and headed to the bathroom to piss out most of what he’d just drunk. When he returned, he jolted to a halt.

  “Damn. Why does everyone just come and go around here?”

  Drusilla sat at the table. She’d found the other six-pack and had started in on it. She smiled sweetly. “Your light was on. Thought I’d drop by for a visit.”

  He glanced at the clock. “A little late, isn’t it?”

  She shrugged and leaned back in her chair, surveying him openly. “I don’t smell the vampire anymore. Thought I caught a whiff of him outside, but it’s gone now.”

  Bleu was really here? His heart perked up and then slowed down again. There was no place for hope in his life, not when it came to Bleu.

  “He likes to wander around at night, check things out. No harm intended.”

  “It’s harm if he’s the one who hurt you so badly.”

  He froze, facing her from across the room. “We got into a fistfight at the bar. It escalated. We fucked, and then we went our separate ways.”

  Step by step, he forced his feet to carry himself to the table, to the chair he’d been sitting on. He lowered himself and looked down at the open beer in front of him.

  “You went your separate ways because Dad called you in and unloaded all that garbage on you.”

  “No, it ended before anything ever began. End of story, Dru.”

  He didn’t look at her. He kept his lashes lowered, praying she didn’t see what was there in his eyes. He’d seen it when he looked in the mirror—the bleak, hopeless expression of the truly brokenhearted.

  “I haven’t seen you like this since you were a kid. Maybe fifteen or so. You scared me then. Momma too.”

  He didn’t answer. What could he say?

  “I remember…there was a game…a home game. After it was over, I was leaving with Mom. I forgot my jacket in the bleachers, so she waited for me in the car. I was running back when I saw two people down by the locker rooms. It was dark, but I could tell… I saw it was a couple of guys. They were…they were making out. I thought it was pretty funny—”

  “Till you realized who it was.” His voice was harsh and raspy.

  “Yeah.”

  “You told Mom?”

  She shook her head. “No. I figured it was your issue. I thought…” She let out a big sigh. “Look, I’ve been with girls. Usually just silly stuff, and almost always another pack member. We’re too sexual not to blow off steam. It happens, and you move on. But I watched you afterward, and I could tell you were really sad. Like you are now.”

  He reached up and rubbed his face, then pinched the bridge of his nose.

  “Mom talked with me eventually. She told me you might end up being like her older brother. He never felt a mating compulsion. Not with women, anyway.”

  Shocked, he looked up at her. “She talked with you? About me?” More to the point—he had an uncle who was like him?

  Dru flushed slightly. “How would you have dealt with it if she’d come to you back then to talk about your sexuality?”

  She had a point there. “Why the hell would she talk to you about it?” He didn’t know what was burning through him—rage or humiliation. Either way, he burned. His skin prickled with the need to shift and run. To run until he couldn’t go on. He closed his eyes, covering them with his hand.

  Drusilla swallowed hard. She sat stiff and upright in her chair, hands folded in her lap. She looked like a schoolgirl. “She told me because I complained about you all the time. You were moody and rude. You never did your share of the chores, yet you were out all the time and you never got into trouble. She wanted me to understand and have a little compassion.” She reached out and brushed the back of his hand. “She wanted me to keep an eye on you, make sure you didn’t do something stupid.”

  “Like become an alpha. Or agree to breed.”

  “No. You are an alpha, and in all honesty, you probably should have offspring. Momma didn’t want you to die on the vine, denying who and what you are.”

  He rolled his eyes. “A gay werewolf. Now just how well is that gonna play out here, Drusilla?”

  “Not well.” She let his hand loose and brought hers back to her lap. “Mom said… Before she died, we talked about it again. She told me the native shifters believe that when a pack grows stable, reproduction becomes less important, and that’s when alternate sexuality begins to emerge. She thought maybe it was a form of population control. Or perhaps it meant the pack had evolved to the point that it wasn’t so dependent on traditions that are rooted in survival. But she said it wasn’t uncommon.”

  “Why didn’t she tell me? Why, Drusilla?” He was confused, truly and genuinely distraught. If he’d known these things, life would have been different. Better, at least in terms of his self-perception.

  “Would you have heard what she had to say? Or would you have been crushed that Mom thought you were gay? Honestly, when did you admit it to yourself?” She caught his hand again and held it tightly. “She told me so I could tell you when the time w
as right.”

  “And when was that to be?”

  “Now. Now that you aren’t denying it. Now that you’ve grown comfortable enough with yourself to accept that you are what you are.”

  His laugh was wild. “Now that I finally admit what I’ve been hiding from, and I want it so badly yet I’ve made it impossible? Now that it’s too late for me?”

  She didn’t let go of his hand, though he pulled. He pulled until he was free, and then he shoved his chair back and backpedaled to the kitchen wall. Dru rubbed her hand and then covered her eyes, but she didn’t cry. No, Drusilla was made of tougher stuff than that.

  “I’d have done it, Lukas! I’d have had all the damn babies Dad wanted me to have! I knew it would be a disaster for you. I just didn’t anticipate him dragging you in so deeply…making you his heir.” She looked up at him. Now he saw tears, and they made him feel like hell. She was crying for him. “Why’d you have to be so damn noble?”

  He was leaning against the wall, panting like he’d run miles. Slowly his mind began to process her words, and he began to calm down, bit by bit.

  “Mom knew I was gay?”

  “Yeah, Lukas. She knew.”

  “Dad?”

  She shook her head. “It’s so far from his nature, he just can’t see it in others. And face it—you aren’t really too obvious.”

  He shook his head, clearing all the tangled thoughts. He could hurt, he could regret, but he’d chosen a direction, and his path into the future was clear. Except for giving him the knowledge that he wasn’t the only one, Drusilla’s revelations really didn’t change anything.

  Who was he kidding? He needed time…time to think about this whole mess. Time to figure out if there was any chance for a modicum of happiness in his miserable life.

  But then, his life wasn’t really so miserable. Yes, he missed Bleu fiercely. His body ached with the need to touch the vampire, to feel him deep inside his body once again. Mostly he just missed him. In all honesty, he enjoyed the extra tasks the alpha had dropped in his lap. On weekends he was hauling a few of the youngsters around town to do chores for people like Mrs. Neville. On Sundays at the main house, he spent hours with Alice, going over pack history. He spent time with his father or just hung with the kids who were just as lost and sad as he and Drusilla had been when they first came to Arcada.