Gregor's Reason: The Night Movers Vampire Series Book 3

by Helen Bright

  But there was still something about St Basil’s that drew me more than this church did. Maybe it was because it had Red Square as its backdrop? Or maybe it was because the tenseness emanating from Gregor was starting to rub off on all of us, that was stopping me seeing the beauty in something that was so lovingly crafted.

  St Petersburg was built around a canal system and appeared to be in blocks of little islands, which made driving around the city a slow process.

  On our next stop, we visited Palace Square, which, with the sun beating down on it, was thoroughly breathtaking.

  In the middle was the Alexander Column, which was topped by an Angel holding a cross. But that wasn’t what drew me in the most.

  The walls and buildings surrounding the Square were decorated in delicate pastels; lemon and white, cream and white, all so pretty and feminine.

  It was also home to the Winter Palace, which was a deep mint green colour, adorned with heavily gilded decorations on the exterior; and it dominated the majority of the Square. I was informed it was the legacy of Catherine the Great, but had been the home of many Empresses and Tsars over the years.

  The inside of the Palace was truly spectacular. Part of it was opened as a museum, and it once suffered extensive fire damage which, luckily, didn’t spread to the Palace’s art collection.

  My favourite room by far was the Amorial Hall, with its creamy white walls and gilded columns, watched over by military statues and lit with gold chandeliers.

  I wasn’t usually into such heavily gilded fretwork and architrave, and there was so much of it here that it could have looked gaudy. But it didn’t.

  I was so impressed by the Winter Palace that I asked if we could come back again to see things that I was sure we had missed. And Gregor, of course, agreed.

  When Gregor suggested we go for lunch in a restaurant overlooking the river, I heartily agreed. I had spent most of the morning and early afternoon looking up at buildings and artwork, that my neck ached, and my eyes were starting to feel heavy.

  I was surprised I felt so tired after all the sleep I’d had yesterday. After we had come back from Gregor’s Club, I went straight upstairs and climbed into his bed. I slept until just before midnight, and after eating, what Gregor informed me, was his chef's version of Russian lasagna, we watched a film he streamed through his laptop, before falling back to a contented sleep.

  Well, mine had been contented, but I hadn’t asked Gregor about his when he kissed me awake before making love to me this morning. Looking at him, across the table at this very fine restaurant, I felt a little selfish that I hadn’t enquired.

  “I thought we could visit the Peterhof Palace after lunch. I’m told the cascading fountains are a wonderful sight to see.” Gregor said with about the same level of enthusiasm he’d had all day.

  “I’m tired Gregor. My neck hurts, and I just want to put my feet up. Can we just go to your home and chill out for a while?”

  “You do realise that Ruslan will want to take you on a tour of the Palace, don’t you? He has been looking forward to meeting you since Viktor so kindly informed him that we would be coming to stay.”

  “And I look forward to meeting him, too. I can’t believe he’s Anna’s grandfather. I wish she could have come with us.”

  “She visits often. Ruslan has a full wing of the palace for himself and his family. He took so much pride in restoring it after the hunters came and then re-building some of the outside. He made it more in keeping with the fashion during the time of Catherine the Great. As immortals, it's essential that we fit in with the rest of the human population. It can be a problem if you or your property are so different that people start to take notice. It is often better to blend in, even if part of your history is lost.”

  “That’s a sad way to live,” I told him and thought how this would be the way I’d have to live once I bonded with Gregor.

  When I looked up into those beautiful blue eyes, I knew it would all be worth it. We would find our way together from now on, and accept the years of change as two parts of a whole.

  A lot of traditional Russian food consisted of dishes I found quite impalatable, as I wasn’t keen on fish or cabbage and certain spices or pickled food. So I opted for the nearest thing to a traditional British Sunday lunch I could find, although I will admit to having two traditional Russian desserts to finish off with.

  One thing I noticed was that wherever we ate, Gregor made sure that Yuri and Dmitry, or whoever his bodyguards were on that day, ate either with us, or at a nearby table. He was a fair employer, and I got the impression that Yuri was more to Gregor than just an employee. I knew that Yuri was a born immortal vampire like Gregor, but Dmitry had yet to ‘take the blood’ as Gregor liked to put it.

  After our meal, we went back to the car and proceeded over the many bridges, out of the city and on towards the Antonov Palace.

  The driveway up to the property had pristinely manicured lawns either side and every few feet there were urns filled with an array of summer plants and trailing ivy. The palace itself was huge, and was reminiscent of the buildings in Palace Square, with cream walls and white windows and door architrave and frames. I was seriously impressed and remained speechless for a time.

  “Come, my love, let us say hello to Ruslan and his wife, Kristina.”

  As Yuri opened the car door for us. I noticed the front door of the Palace open, and a tall blond haired man step over the threshold with a petite brunette beside him.

  “Gregor, it is so good to see you, and I am thrilled you have brought your Chloe with you.”

  “Ruslan, my friend,” said Gregor.

  The two men hugged and seemed to hold each other for a short time before pulling away, slightly glassy eyed.

  Ruslan pulled me into a big bear hug at the same time as Ruslan’s wife, Kristina, grabbed hold of Gregor.

  “It has been too long, Gregor. You must not leave it so long next time. I have to keep getting an update on your welfare from Anna and Viktor, instead of seeing you in the flesh.”

  “Well, I'm here now Kristina, and I have brought you a gift,” he said, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a velvet box I recognised as being the same ones from Mr. Yanev’s shop.

  “Chloe, I see that Gregor is once again distracting my wife with jewellery, so she doesn’t stay angry at him for not visiting. While he does so, I will take you inside and introduce you to everyone. Of course, you know who I am, even though Gregor has failed to introduce you formally to my wife and I,” he tutted, as he guided me up some stone steps into the front door of the property.

  Inside the doorway were, at least, a dozen people lined up ready to greet me, and I had a moment's hesitation of my place in Gregor’s world.

  But everyone was smiling as they waited for Ruslan to introduce us. Most spoke English or at least tried, and it bolstered my resolve to learn a little more Russian than I would need just to say hello or order food like most tourists would know.

  When Gregor entered the hallway, he was greeted so warmly by all the staff and was hugged by many of them. One lady, the cook I think, kissed his cheek twice, then admonished him for staying away just as Kristina had done outside. I was once again saddened by Gregor’s reluctance to come to what was for all intents and purposes, his family home.

  After managing to grab Gregor away from everyone, Yuri led us through a large arched doorway, and my jaw dropped. In front of us was a double staircase that met on a mezzanine level at the top.

  The balustrades were the same pale oak as the stairs themselves and were so different to the opulent marble staircase of the Winter Palace. For a home that you lived in, I preferred it. Although, with the beautiful vine carvings, it still looked very grand.

  Hung up at the bottom of the stairs was a portrait of a young Gregor holding the reigns of a white horse. He was good looking as a young man and was obviously someone who got even better looking over time.

  “This is you,” I exclaimed. How old were you in this pai
nting?”

  “Twenty-two, I think,” he answered, a faraway look in his eyes. Ruslan nodded.

  “I think that horse’s name was Zvezda, wasn’t it Gregor?”

  “Yes. It was my mother’s horse. My own horse did not like to stand very long for the painter to do his thing, but Zvezda was such a patient and gentle animal. Zvezda means star, in case you are wondering. She had the shape of a star in grey under her belly. It was strange because she was pure white everywhere else. We bred her with one of my grandfather's horses, and my brother had the foal. Such a good horse. Very obedient. There is a painting further up of my brother on his horse. Demyon was exceptionally good with horses. A horse whisperer you could say. Come, I will show you.”

  We passed more paintings before encountering his brother Demyon’s portrait, about ten steps up. Demyon was similar in looks to Gregor, but had blond hair; although they both shared those piercing blue eyes.

  Next to Demyon was a portrait of Elizaveta, Gregor’s sister. She was extremely pretty, with the same blue eyes as her brothers, although her hair, which was up in a kind of chignon, was brown like Gregor’s.

  “She was very beautiful,” I remarked, as Gregor started to walk further up the stairs.

  “That was painted not quite six months before her death. It hurts to look at it sometimes. I’ve only said that once before, many years ago, but I still feel it now. I wanted to take them all down.”

  I ran up the steps and threw my arms around him. Tears filled my eyes, and I had a lump in my throat. I didn’t know what to say, so I said nothing at all, and let my embrace do the comforting.

  Ruslan touched my shoulder and pointed at the next two portraits. I knew straight away that they were Gregor’s parents. Gregor was his father's double, uncannily so. The same hair colour, although his father’s hair was long in this painting. But, those eyes, that same piercing blue that could look deep into your soul. There was no mistaking who Gregor belonged to. His mother had blond hair, lighter than that of Demyon, but her eyes were dark blue, although no less beguiling. She was very pretty, her skin pale, but with a radiant glow.

  “They made a very attractive couple,” I said gesturing to the paintings. “So this is where you got your good looks from, Gregor.”

  He turned to look at the paintings. He seemed deep in thought for a moment, then shrugged it off. I couldn’t bear the distant look in his eyes. I tried desperately to think of something to say that would lift his spirits and couldn’t think of anything at first, but as I glanced up and saw another painting, an older woman with a baby on her lap, an idea popped into my head.

  “I want these portraits to stay, Gregor. When we visit with our children, I want them to see their grandparents, and aunt and uncle, every time they go up and down these stairs. I want them to know that they have family in heaven who love them dearly and watch out for them every day. Just like my grandparents and my Aunty Joyce will, too. Just because they’re gone, it doesn’t mean they, and the good times you had with them, should be forgotten.”

  Gregor looked at me for a moment in shock and confusion. I smiled at him before turning towards Ruslan and saying, “I want you to tell me all about Gregor and his brother and sister when they were growing up. I bet they could get up to all sorts of mischief in a home as big as this.”

  “Oh yes, my dear Chloe,” said Ruslan grinning. “I remember Gregor and the gardener’s son, Dima, having races right here. They each would stand at the top of one of these staircases and slide down them on feather pillows, mostly on their bellies. Then Gregor discovered you could slide quicker on your back on one of the carpets his grandfather had brought back from Persia. Olga, Gregor’s mother, was just coming out of the drawing room when Gregor slid straight into her. He knocked her right off her feet. It was lucky his father had quick vampire reflexes and was able to catch her, or she would have had quite a landing.”

  “Did you get into trouble?” I asked Gregor, wanting to involve him in the conversation.

  “I had to go to bed without supper, and I wasn’t allowed to ride my horse again for a week. It was my standard punishment. I was never physically reprimanded.”

  “I remember later that night, his mother, father, her chambermaid and I, had a great time trying to race each other down here on different rugs. Of course, your mother won most of the races, she was so very competitive, although your father said it was only because she had the better rug.”

  I laughed at that, picturing these people in the portrait doing something so childlike and fun.

  “I didn’t know that,” said Gregor, looking from the portraits to the stairs.

  “Of course, you didn’t. You had gone to bed without supper. We couldn’t let you see us doing something we said was dangerous.”

  “Demyon was terribly mischievous,” said Ruslan as he glanced back down to his portrait.

  “Every day as a young child he would roam the gardens finding caterpillars, worms, and beetles. He would bring them in to show his mother, even though he knew she hated them. And he was always trailing muddy footprints through the kitchens. It used to drive Olga and Mrs. Garina, the housekeeper, crazy. Every day you would hear them yell “Demyon,” and then chase him through the kitchens to get him to take off his shoes, which would, of course, leave even more muddy footprints.”

  “What was Elizaveta like?” I asked.

  “She used to put on shows all the time,” said Gregor just before Ruslan began to speak. Ruslan gestured for Gregor to carry on.

  “My father and I built her a puppet theatre. My mother originally had the puppets, when she was a child. My brother and I hated them; I thought they had strange faces, and Demyon agreed. They were dressed in huge pantaloons and my sister wanted them to have different outfits. So she and my mother made new ones from Elizaveta’s old dresses and lace from a tablecloth. Nearly every night for weeks we had to watch different plays and dances. It would take hours to unravel the strings afterwards and the first time I didn’t do it, she said I wasn’t her brother, and she was never speaking to me again. She was such a little woman at times,” he laughed. Finally, some progress I thought.

  “Can you remember when she went through her wedding phase,” laughed Ruslan.

  Gregor groaned. “I think she was about eight years old. My mother had shown her my grandmother's wedding dress. Elizaveta preferred it to my mother’s. My grandparent’s had moved to their palace in Germany, as they said the air by the Rhine was better than in St Petersburg at the time. She had given my sister some rings, and pendants, as well as the tiara she had worn at her wedding, and my sister became fixated with it.

  “She had everything planned, from the food that would be served, the wedding cake, what fabric her dress would be made from. She wanted to be married in the Palace Chapel in early spring, so that she could have spring flowers all around her and in her bouquet.”

  “And she said her future husband would be the Grand Prince of Russia, and the world,” laughed Ruslan loudly as he pointed to Gregor.

  “What’s so funny,” I asked.

  “Elizaveta said Gregor looked like a Grand Prince would, so she made him dress up and wear a crown she had made out of a gold coloured ribbon and a bread tin from the kitchen, and he had to pretend to ask her to marry him. He went along with it and got down on one knee, but Elizaveta said his crown didn’t fit right, so while he was knelt down, she hit the tin, so it went further down his head.” Ruslan laughed again, hard this time.

  “The tin was stuck on his head and wouldn’t come off. Elizaveta stormed off in disgust saying Gregor would never make Grand Prince of anywhere, because he was silly.”

  “Several hours later, and with my head heavily greased in goose fat, the tin finally came off. It took six washes to remove the goose fat and my father kept telling me he could smell it for days.”

  “We have all your grandmother’s jewellery and the tiara in the new safe we had installed last year. Your mother's jewellery is in the old one. I know that you
favour a jeweller in Moscow to make you the gifts you bring to Kristina and the other female staff, but if Chloe wanted to wear any of the family heirlooms on her wedding day, then that would be a fitting tribute.”

  “I would like that,” I said, taking Gregor’s hand. “I could wear your Grandmother’s tiara; which Elizaveta had planned to wear. It would be like we were giving her the day she never got to have. We could do it in the springtime, and have spring flowers surrounding us, just like she wanted. It sounds magical, and something I would have chosen to do myself.”

  “Chloe, I thought you would want to be married in the church in Rothley, with your parents and work colleagues around you.”

  “Can’t we bring them here?” I asked.

  “Well, yes, of course, if that’s what you want. But you don’t have to do this. I know you are trying to make me feel better about being here, but you don’t have to go along with my sister's childhood plans.”

  “But I would like to, Gregor. I was an only child, and so was my mother. My dad had a sister, my Aunty Joyce, but she couldn’t have children. So I had no cousins or any other family members to grow up with. I made some friends during the time we travelled with my dad when he was in the army, but no one I could say was like family to me. I want to do this.

  “I want to hear all about the fun times you had as a family growing up here. You’ve told me about the bad times, so now tell me all the good. All the times that you laughed, and played pranks and sang and danced. Show me where you played and where you slept when you went to bed without supper. Tell me how many people tried to pull the bread tin off your head, and how long it took for your sister to forgive you for not making a good Grand Prince. And then, tonight, I want to race you down the stairs on a Persian rug. But, I insist on having the same one your mother used.”

  I was breathing heavily by the time I had finished my little rant, but that’s nothing compared to how I was breathing after Gregor grabbed me and kissed all coherent thought away.

  Gregor lifted me so I could wrap my legs around his waist and he began to carry me up the rest of the stairs, still kissing me although more softly now. When we reached the top, he turned and said, “Ruslan, we will retire to the east wing for the night and do not wish to be disturbed.”