BloodPledge

by Tima Maria Lacoba

  ‘Only Marcus, Luc and Terens are from a Roman background,’ he answered. ‘Cal, Jake and Sam are Frisians – from the Netherlands. Latin isn’t their native tongue. In fact, Frisian is the ancestor of modern English.’

  Terens turned toward me, wearing a mischievous smile. ‘You should hear Sam speak Latin, pet.’ He shook his head in mock disgust. ‘Worst thing I’ve ever heard. At least in French or English I can understand what he’s saying.’

  Sam slowly turned his head in Terens’s direction as quiet chuckles filled the room.

  ‘For example,’ Terens went on, ‘I remember a particular incident when he was stopped by that old, bandy-legged centurion, Nemius –’

  ‘Not that old story,’ Sam protested.

  Kari sat forward in her chair and asked Jake, ‘Have I heard this one?’

  ‘Probably. Terens loves to repeat it.’ Jake’s eyes crinkled up at the corners as he sipped on his wine.

  ‘ “Festinabimus Taberna!” he said.’ Terens mocked Sam’s voice. Even Sam cracked a smile.

  Of course, I didn’t have a clue what they were on about. I looked at Alec for clarification. ‘Sam said he and his companions were hurrying to the tavern, but he used the feminine form of the verb, as if they were women.’

  I could see how that would’ve been embarrassing to his fellow soldiers.

  ‘I got a week’s latrine duties for getting it wrong,’ Sam said.

  ‘As I recall,’ Terens remarked, ‘he said you accomplished what no enemy of Rome had done – destroy the Roman language.’

  Marcus and Luc roared with laughter.

  ‘You’ll never let me live that down, will you?’

  ‘Not in a million years,’ Terens answered, leaned forward and slapped Sam on the back.

  ‘Don’t you think it’s ironic. Nobody speaks Latin anymore, yet Frisian’s everywhere – in modern English? Maybe it’s just as well I didn’t waste my time learning to speak your language.’

  Cal guffawed, reached for the decanter and poured himself another glass of wine. ‘How you gonna counter that one, Terens?’

  ‘Only one way I know.’ Terens stood and flexed his right arm. ‘Brand new model.’

  ‘By all means, test it out.’ Sam’s chair scraped across the floor as he, too, rose and began flexing his right arm. ‘Ready to lose some fingers?’ The two faced each other, grinning.

  Kari rolled her eyes. ‘Oh no, not this stupid game.’

  Alec leaned toward me and whispered, ‘Maybe we should go for a stroll around the deck.’

  ‘Why?’ I asked. ‘What are they going to do?’

  ‘Their version of an arm wrestle.’ Alec looked uncomfortable. ‘They do it every Christmas.’

  ‘It’s gross, Laura.’ Kari grimaced. ‘The loser must chop off a finger and hand it over. The one with the biggest collection wins.’

  ‘You’re kidding. At Christmas?’

  ‘It’s the only time they can do it – good way to test the strength of the Ingenii blood. Any lost appendage regenerates in an instant,’ Alec said.

  ‘Sorry, boys, you know I can’t stay to watch,’ Judy said. ‘If anyone wants me I’ll be in my room.’ She wished us goodnight and kissed Luc and Marcus on the cheek. The men rose and bowed as she left.

  ‘Think I’ll do the same,’ I said when I saw Terens move one of the candelabra aside and pull a blade from beneath his trouser leg. ‘No way am I going to watch them cut off fingers, even if it is some weird Christmas tradition.’

  ‘Allez, ma petite, this is not for a lady’s eyes.’

  ‘I agree,’ Kari said and skipped to my side of the table. ‘Let’s join Judy.’

  I still had Alec’s Christmas present. This was a good time to slip away and give it to him. ‘Meet you there, Kari. There’s something I need to do first.’ I mouthed the words, ‘Present for Alec.’

  She nodded and gave me a knowing smile as she left.

  I turned to Alec. ‘I accept your offer of a stroll around the deck.’

  With his arm around my waist, Alec led me from the dining room just as Sam and Terens took up their positions, elbows on the table, hands clasped, steely gazes locked. Two long, menacing-looking knives lay in the centre of the table.

  I shuddered and turned away.

  The night air was cool and sweet as we stepped through the doors. I took a deep gulp to rid myself of the warm scent of burnt candle wax, along with the image of disembodied fingers. It brought back the sickening memory of Rasputin’s severed hands clawing at the ground.

  Although it was cloudy, the air was still, and every sound was magnified – the hum of the crickets in the bush across the bay, gentle lapping of waves against the sides of the boat. Several smaller boats were anchored nearby, their lights reflecting off the dark, mirrored waters.

  I reached into the pocket of my taffeta, black and white polka-dot dress, pulled out a tiny parcel and held it out to Alec. ‘Merry Christmas.’

  ‘Laura, I didn’t expect—’

  ‘Ssshh, open it.’

  While he and Jake had been away at the lab searching for an antidote for white-oak, I’d done some searching of my own. After several hours trawling through the net, I’d found it – the perfect gift – on a Scottish Clans site.

  Alec tore off the wrapping and sucked in a breath when he opened the little box.

  ‘I hope it fits,’ I said.

  A dazzling smile lit his face. ‘It will, darling.’ He lifted the gold ring from its box and slipped it on. It fitted. A gold eagle perched on top of a strap and buckle – the ancient family crest of the Munro clan – sat comfortably on his left, index finger. He pocketed the box and wrapper, took me in his arms and kissed me with a passion that made my thighs tremble.

  ‘So, you like it?’ I asked after a while.

  Alec chuckled. ‘Very much. Where did you find it?’

  ‘Online. You asked me not to leave the boat.’

  He brought his hand up and gazed at the ring. ‘It’s perfect. Now it’s my turn to ask – how did you know?’

  ‘I didn’t. Only knew you had a set of bagpipes, and since there’s no other ring on your finger apart from wee serpent here,’ I put on a mock Scottish accent and wriggled my finger, ‘I thought to get you one.’

  ‘Our clan crest.’ He chuckled and kissed me again. ‘Merry Christmas,’ he murmured into my mouth. As we were locked in each other’s embrace, faint growls and swearing drifted out from the stateroom. I didn’t want to know who was losing a finger.

  I pressed closer to Alec. The drumming of my heartbeat drowned out any other sound.

  Chapter 28 - Portrait

  LAURA

  I grabbed a pillow and covered my head to muffle the ringing of my mobile phone. Any message could wait. I was having such a wonderful dream about Alec making love to me. Last night, there was no part of my body he hadn’t lavished with attention – he had raised me to heights I never thought possible.

  I dumped the pillow when the phone beeped again, picked it up and checked the time. 1pm. My stomach grumbled. Another beep. ‘For goodness sake.’ I pressed the message button. ‘Who’s messaging me on Boxing Day?’

  My sleepy brain spluttered into life when I saw who the messages were from.

  Matt!

  I sat bolt upright. Why does he still have my number? ‘What do you want, Matt?’ I said rhetorically to his name on the small screen. After our less-than-congenial-parting, I was reluctant to have any further contact with him. But he’d been my first lover; and I would always have affection for him.

  I placed the phone down on the bedcover and stared at it.

  It beeped again. I jumped. There was no avoiding it. I scrolled through the messages.

  Have 2 c u urgently where r u moored? It’s important; can I meet you today? Need 2 show u s/thing.

  My curiosity was piqued – Matt never exaggerated. If he said something was important, then it was. I glanced at Alec’s side of the bed. A pale, blue sheet of paper lay neatly folded on his
pillow. I picked it up and brought it to my nose. His scent. Images of our lovemaking flooded my mind. Even his smell set me on fire.

  Good morning, my sleeping beauty. Didn’t want to wake you. Will be at the lab most of the day checking on the serum. Should you need me... you know what to do. Hope to be done by early this evening. Need to have you in my arms.

  Yours for eternity, Alec

  Even his written words made my heart melt. The phone beeped again. I sighed and checked the screen.

  Pls answer, Laura!

  Nope. No avoiding it. I messaged him back. Come to the boat, Matt. We’re moored at Balmoral Marina

  Thx. On way.

  He could be here in less than thirty minutes if he was at his home in Glebe. I threw aside the bedcover and raced for the shower, before realising I hadn’t asked either Judy or Luc if inviting him was okay. As soon as I was dressed, I’d do so.

  I made my way up to the galley on the next deck. No one seemed to be about. Perhaps Judy still slept. Kari surely would be. Antonius and his men would be out hunting Rasputin – I would’ve loved to have seen my grandfather experience his first morning in nearly two-thousand years. I was sure Luc had been present to see it with him. The thought occurred to me, would he be still awake? He needs to know about Matt.

  ‘Papa, are you awake?’ His hearing was as acute as Alec’s. ‘Matt’s coming over,’ I said, as I grabbed a mince pie out of the well-stocked pantry, full of leftovers from Christmas luncheon.

  ‘How do you feel about that, ma petite?’

  I spun around. He stood by the door, arms crossed over his chest, blonde hair slightly tousled, as if he’d just gotten out of bed. Maybe he had.

  ‘Awkward.’ I took a bite of the pastry. It was good. ‘Did I, ah, wake you up?’

  He dismissed the suggestion with a wave of his hand. ‘Why does he want to see you?’

  ‘Not sure. Something about needing to show me something. He sent me urgent texts.’ I set the espresso coffee machine, and, while it bubbled away I showed him the messages.

  His brow creased. ‘Mmm.’ He handed back the mobile. ‘You think he might be trying...?’

  ‘To get me back?’ I thought it through. Although we were together for only four months, Matt never came across as that duplicitous. He was one of those what-you-see-is-what-you-get type of guys. I shook my head. ‘No, that’s not the way he operates.’

  ‘How well do you know him?’

  I took a deep breath. It was a question that had been put to me before, and at the time I had dismissed it. ‘Not that well.’

  ‘You don’t have to see him.’

  ‘I told him I would.’

  ‘Ah!’ Luc stepped further into the galley. The espresso machine hissed, and I placed my cup beneath the nozzle. ‘Pour me one, too, ma petite.’

  He pulled down the blinds and I wondered if he was becoming averse to sunlight. As far as I knew, he still fed from my mother, and being an outgoing Ingenii, the special qualities her blood once possessed would be waning.

  I filled two cups and handed him one. We sat together at the breakfast bar, sipping in silence as the delicious aroma of freshly brewed coffee wafted around us.

  ‘You still feel anything for this man?’

  ‘Fondness. I can’t wipe out the time I spent with him, even if it was only for a short time. I enjoyed those four months.’ He said nothing, and I added, ‘It’s Alec I love, Papa. No man will ever compare to him.’

  ‘Bien!’ He smiled and patted my hand.

  I finished my coffee and took my cup to the sink. ‘By the way, you know if Jen’s still asleep?’

  ‘She’s awake and in the Jacuzzi.’ He indicated the next deck up with a jerk of his head. ‘I like her. She’s been a good friend to you all these years.’

  ‘How do you...?’ I shook my head. Naturally he knew. He’d been keeping watch over me since I was a baby. He probably had a list of all my friends, acquaintances and who knows who or what else. Yet – I could forgive him as he did it for my protection.

  His grin confirmed it. He swivelled his head toward the door. ‘Ah! He’s here, ma petite. Coming down the jetty.’

  My stomach fluttered. ‘What could be so urgent that he has to see me in person?’ Luc’s brow furrowed. ‘I’d better go.’ I kissed his cheek then I went out onto the main deck.

  It was a warm day, and I blamed that for my sweaty palms as Matt strode along the pier. He wore jeans and a plain, white T-shirt. His face was grim. There was a newspaper tucked beneath his arm.

  I took a deep breath.

  ‘Laura.’ I’m sure his eyes softened, if only for a moment, until he looked down at my hand. My engagement ring glinted in the sunlight. His jaw tightened. ‘Didn’t waste any time, did he? One hell of a rock.’

  I slid my hand from the railing and tucked it into the pocket of my shorts. ‘Alec told me about your ... memory.’

  His face hardened. ‘And you’re okay with that?’

  ‘He saved your life, Matt. My father would’ve killed you.’

  Matt huffed. ‘Yeah, don’t know whether I owe him one, or should hate him more. I’m still deciding.’ He looked past me. ‘He around?’

  ‘No, he’s at the lab. What’s this about, Matt?’

  His gaze came back to me. ‘Can’t I see my ex-girlfriend?’ A hint of a sardonic smile played around his lips as he emphasised the “ex.”

  In the bright sunlight it was impossible not to miss the stubble on his chin, and the dark circles under his eyes. A twinge of guilt shot through me.

  ‘Lebrettan in there?’ With a jerk of his head he indicated the boat.

  ‘Yes.’

  He looked away and swore under his breath.

  ‘Whatever you need to say, or show me, you can do it here.’

  He shook his head. ‘Better inside.’

  With two clenched fists in my pockets, I led the way into the main salon conscious of Matt’s burning gaze on my back. Only two weeks ago ... I quashed the memory. ‘You dating that ER doctor who treated you?’ I shot back over my shoulder.

  ‘Who?’

  ‘The one whose hand you didn’t want to let go when you told me to get lost.’

  Silence behind me, except for heavy footsteps on the gangplank. I thought to make myself feel better by reminding him of his infatuation with the pretty brunette doctor. It made leaving him for Alec easier. That, and the fact he’d been planning to kill the fanged side of my family in a misguided attempt to protect me. Instead, it was no better than a petty remark. No good, Laura, my conscience chastised. ‘Can I get you a drink?’

  ‘No thanks.’ He stood in the entrance and gazed at me.

  ‘Please sit down.’ I perched on the edge of the closest sofa, hands clasped tightly in my lap.

  Matt didn’t move. He lowered his head and shoved his hands into his jeans pockets. ‘Look, Laura, that day at the hospital, what I said.’ His head jerked up. ‘I’m sorry. I was angry. I’d lost my memory and then you came in and told me you were leaving me—’

  ‘You couldn’t remember me. Why did it matter?’

  ‘Look, call it wounded pride, whatever you want, I, ah, had no right speaking to you like I did.’

  So he wasn’t dating her. He feigned it so I wouldn’t pity him. Another rush of conscience assailed me, and I conjured Alec’s face in my mind. Instantly, I knew I had made the right decision. ‘Let’s forget it, then. Can we be friends?’ As it came out of my mouth I knew the stupidity of what I’d just said. Can ex-lovers ever be friends?

  He stared at me for a while, before he finally said, ‘No.’

  Perhaps it was for the best. ‘Okay.’ I released a breath. ‘What do you need to see me about?’

  He removed the newspaper from beneath his arm and joined me on the sofa.

  ‘Seen the papers recently?’

  ‘No, not interested.’

  He spread the paper open, placed it on the coffee table in front of me, and pointed to the bottom of the page. ‘You ought to t
ake a look at this.’

  I glanced down. My picture stared back at me, or rather, a portrait of me. One I instantly recognised. I’d seen it before – in Jean-Philippe’s makeshift studio. Some of the details had been altered, but it was essentially the one he had shown me, the night...

  My stomach churned.

  ‘Know him?’ I didn’t like the tone of Matt’s voice, or the way it sliced through me. His finger moved to a smiling photo of Jean-Philippe – young, handsome, and according to the headline, missing.

  A dreadful coldness crept over me as I skimmed through the article.

  Portrait Artist Goes Missing

  Recently nominated for the Sydney Emerging Artists Prize for his portrait of “Laura”, John-Phillip Reynold has not responded to emails or calls. My eyes scanned to the last line.

  If anyone knows of his whereabouts, please contact....

  John-Phillip Reynold. He had anglicised his name – to avoid detection? I had hoped never to hear him mentioned again, or see the disturbing images he had painted of me. Yet here they were, for the whole world to see. How on earth could I explain it to Matt? Our relationship was over, and he was here, not as my protector, but as a detective. How could I tell him what happened? What Jean-Philippe had tried to do to me – how he had attempted to kill Alec? How could I tell him he was enquiring after a man who was dead?

  The dreaded thought occurred to me – would he try to arrest Alec? Unfortunately, Matt knew me, knew I hiccupped if I attempted to lie. ‘He’s my half-brother,’ I answered.

  He frowned. ‘I though you were an only child.’

  ‘I only found out last week. He was Luc’s son – is Luc’s son.’ I could have bitten my tongue at the slip up.

  ‘Was?’

  ‘Is. Anyway, aren’t you off duty? Why come here with that?’ I slid the newspaper back to him.

  His eyes narrowed. ‘Why so defensive?’

  ‘We’re no longer together. Why should it interest you?’

  Matt shot to his feet. ‘You always interest me. I’m sure you understand why.’

  In a moment of silence, our gazes locked. His eyes were pale blue, like Antarctic ice, the shade they always turned when he was angry.