A Vampire's Thirst_Remi

by Elaine Barris

  Remi rapped the table with his knuckles and said, “Are you gonna play or touch the muck and fold?”

  “Stop pressuring me! I’m thinking!”

  “By all means, then, proceed. All that pondering’s certainly served you well tonight, Craig.”

  Remi motioned for Michelle, and she bent down. He kissed her lips and then drew her into his lap to sit crossways.

  “Keep me company while I wait, chér.”

  “My pleasure.”

  “Let me give you a lesson, while our friend here drowns in his own fluids.”

  “Okay.”

  “You know how many cards are in a deck, right?”

  “Mm-hmm, 52.”

  “And four houses.”

  “Uh-huh. Hearts, diamonds, clubs, and spades.”

  “Well, did you know that cards speak?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Take a gander at what I’m holding.”

  Michelle looked down, back at Remi, and then she nodded.

  “Oh, I see.”

  “Do you, now? And what did they say to you, chér?”

  “That he doesn’t have a chance in Hell against you.”

  Remi snorted and said, “I warn people that I’m the best motherfucking poker player they’ve ever met, but they never believe me.”

  “He will.”

  Craig tossed his hand down and slid his chips to the center of the table.

  “I fold.” He raked his fingers through his hair. “You’ve taken my entire life savings tonight.”

  “C’est la vie.”

  “You can’t mean that! You can’t keep it all! That isn’t fair!”

  Remi pierced him with eyes of steel.

  “You chose to sit at the table. You decided to play. At any time, you could’ve walked away. You should have, instead of betting against me after I won the first hand, or even the third, but you didn’t. You stayed, Craig, and you lost.”

  “My wife’s going to divorce me over this!”

  Remi chuckled and asked, “Do you know a guy named Brad?”

  Michelle snuggled into his chest closer, wrapping her arms around his neck.

  “Who?”

  Waving one hand in dismissal, while setting his other on the table, Remi said, “Doesn’t matter. I’m taking all the chips and cashing them in, and there’s not a damn thing you can do about it.” Luc and Paulette strolled into the room, and Remi flicked his eyes to his brother and then back to Craig. “You wanna know the worst of it all?” Remi flipped over his cards. “You would’ve won if you’d called my bluff.”

  “You, goddamn son of a bitch!”

  Remi shrugged and reached for the pot. After gathering it all in front of him, he peered at Michelle.

  “Should I be the better man and show him mercy after he insulted me?”

  “That would be sweet of you.”

  “Hmm. I’ve never been accused of that before.”

  Luc said, “Remi, stop toying with him and do whatever it is you’re gonna do.”

  “And big brother jumps into the mix.”

  Michelle giggled, and Remi tossed a handful of grey plastic at the man.

  “There. Take it and stop gambling. Go home. This isn’t the place for you.”

  “That isn’t enough! Please!”

  “That’s at least forty grand I’ve given back to you out of generosity. I didn’t have to give you anything, Craig. I won. Period. Be grateful that you’re leaving here with anything more than your shattered pride. The rest of the money is mine.” He patted Michelle’s hip, and she stood and swept the winnings into her clutch, as he rose to his feet. “And now, I’m taking my beautiful divorcee to a late supper. Did you know I won her, too? As you can see, I didn’t give her back, either.”

  Michelle smiled up at him and said, “You’d better not.”

  Sticking his elbow out, he inclined his head towards her.

  “I’m keeping you, chér.”

  She linked her arm into his, and they started for the door.

  “You, asshole!” Craig shouted.

  He threw a punch towards Remi, who dodged it, and Craig’s fist bashed Michelle in the face. The impact ripped her grip on Remi, and she dropped to the carpet, bleeding from her nose. Remi went to his knees, holding her and calling her name.

  “Michelle!” Paulette cried, running over to them.

  Luc flashed behind Craig, grabbing him by his arms, holding him in place.

  “You signed a waiver when you arrived to play,” Luc said. “You have no right to argue or bring violence over your loss.”

  “I didn’t think it’d be this bad!”

  “He’s the best. I told you that, and I’m certain he did, too.”

  “I thought it was just marketing... to bring in customers!”

  “You didn’t do your research, then. Another mistake you made. You’re banned from my games. Don’t come back.”

  “Take care of her,” Remi whispered to Paulette.

  She nodded and bit into her wrist, placing it to Michelle’s mouth.

  “It’s okay,” she murmured. “He told me to. Drink a few drops, and you’ll be fine.”

  Stalking over to where Craig was immobilized, Remi jerked his head towards Luc.

  “Let him go.” Luc backed up a step. Bringing his eyes alight to a low flame, Remi growled, “You dared to touch her!”

  Craig turned to run to the doors, but Luc was in front of them in a flash, blocking his exit.

  He flipped around to face Remi and whined, “I didn’t mean to hurt her! I meant to hit you! What’s wrong with your eyes?”

  Dipping his head and taking a deathly tone, Remi said, “Don’t you know? New Orleans is crawling with vampires.”

  “Remi,” Luc said, “don’t do it. Michelle will be okay.”

  “I haven’t given a damn about anyone in a century, since my wife and unborn child died in the early 1800s. And I didn’t think I really cared about Michelle until I realized the thought of losing her was unbearable. She’s in my heart! I cherish her!”

  Michelle gasped, and Remi threw her a look over his shoulder and saw her wide eyes, glistening with tears. She had healed, but red stains around her nostrils remained. Unbridled anger rose in him, and dual flames burst from his eyes in a stream but cooled before they reached their target.

  “You raised your hand to her, my woman!” he thundered.

  “Remi,” Luc said in a subdued tone, though his underlying warning was understood.

  “Don’t worry, brother. I’ll clean up my mess when I’m done.” To Paulette, he said, “Take Michelle out of here.”

  “Luc! He can’t do this!” Paulette shouted, as she helped a teary-eyed Michelle walk towards the exit.

  “Did he really say what I think he said?” Michelle whimpered. “Did he? About me?”

  “Oui,” Paulette replied.

  Once the women had left, Remi stepped closer to the guy and set his eyes to influence.

  “Not another word, no matter what I do to you.”

  Compelled in an instant, Craig nodded his agreement. Then Luc grabbed Remi, slamming him against the wall, holding him in an iron grip.

  “I won’t allow you to murder him and possibly bring The Directive down upon our heads! I won’t let this shit happen! Merde!”

  “Homicides occur every day and night in this city. His disappearance won’t matter!”

  “And what will you do with his body? The evidence?”

  “How the fuck do I know? Burn it? Bury it? Take it to the swamp for the gators? I could leave him with his throat slit or empty-veined in the center of Bourbon Street! Nobody cares!”

  “I said non, Remi, and you will obey me.”

  “And what would you do if someone did to Paulette what he did to Michelle?”

  “I would feel the same as you. But I won’t permit you to do this. Not in my home! End of discussion! C’est fini! Over!”

  “Bien! Parfait! Then, what do you want me to do, brother? Walk away? T
ake the high road? I don’t work like that. Not anymore.”

  “Then, give him an eye for an eye. Hit him the same way he did Michelle.”

  Remi’s nostril and top lip lifted into a snarl, as he stared daggers at his sibling.

  “Break his jaw, Remi. Then let it go.”

  “D’accord.”

  “Hmm?”

  “I said, okay.”

  Later, Remi pocketed the chips he had returned to Craig and went to get Michelle.

  Chapter 17

  “Did you mean it, Remi?” Michelle asked, as she looked out the window from her seat in the SUV. “What you said?”

  “Oui, chér,” he replied, knowing she was asking about his feelings for her.

  “I’m sorry about your wife and child. I didn’t know.”

  “It was a long time ago, and I’m okay now.”

  “Is he dead?”

  “Hmm?”

  “Craig.”

  “Non. I wanted to kill him, intended to, but Luc stopped me from unleashing the full extent of my anger. He’ll be wishing he was, though, as roughed up as I left him.”

  She rubbed her cheek, which didn’t bear any marks that she’d been hit in the face.

  “I’m glad Luc stepped in. Craig didn’t mean to hit me. That blow was aimed at you.” She giggled. “I’ve never been punched in the jaw before. Never know what to expect when you’re out on the town with Remi Bellerive!”

  “Hopefully, a good time, and nothing like what happened at Luc’s.”

  “I was having a great night before that!” She pointed a ways ahead of them. “Oh, there’s Marcel’s place! Should we stop and check on things?”

  A sudden pang hit Remi, and he swerved into the opposite lane, to the blaring horns of oncoming traffic. Michelle shrieked, as he righted the vehicle.

  “What happened? Did we blow a tire or something?”

  “I have to get to my blood stores.”

  “You’ve been needing more of that lately. What’s going on?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe it was seeing what he did to you. I became so enraged. Maybe it burned up my reserves.”

  “You can drink from me, Remi. I don’t mind. You know that. I don’t want you to suffer when I can help.”

  Thirst clambered inside of him, and as much as he didn’t want to use her that way, he couldn’t deny the sanguinary hunger.

  Pulling onto the shoulder of the road, he threw the shifter into Park, as he tried to control his overwhelming need. When Michelle swept her hair behind her neck, he grabbed her, yanking her to his mouth. His fangs had already dropped, and he groaned when they broke through her skin. Not sipping from her like he usually did, he drank from her in long drafts from her veins. Lost in the taste of her blood, he forgot to listen to the beat of her heart.

  Her hands, which had been holding his head, her fingertips threading through his hair, dropped to the seat with a smack of flesh to leather.

  Still, he drank.

  When he opened his eyes, his immediate view was upward, where he saw the shadows of the occupant moving behind the drapes and blinds of the apartment. Music poured from a window, above Marcel’s dark and closed bar, bringing with it the same scent that had spurred his hunger before but with an intensity that threatened to overwhelm him.

  Looking back at Michelle, he saw that her head was slumped to the side. He moved her and then glanced down, as he gained awareness of the slower thud of her heart and saw her pale fingers twitching.

  Forcing his fangs up, he shouted, “Michelle!” He lowered them again and ripped into his wrist, shoving it onto her mouth. “Drink!”

  She didn’t move, didn’t latch onto his skin, and red ran in dual lines out of the sides of her mouth.

  “NON!” he screamed, the volume of his voice shattering the windows, sending the clumps of busted and crackled safety glass out into the night. “Michelle! Drink!”

  Then she moved, the slightest touch of her tongue to his flesh, and he shuddered in terror that because of his bloodlust, he’d almost killed her. Even more unsettling, her life force hadn’t dampened his thirst. It raged through him, as he licked the puncture wounds to stop the flow, while he pushed at the desire.

  “Keep going, chér. Take more.” The pull of her lips strengthened. Her head lifted, and her heartbeat increased its cadence. “That’s it.”

  When she leaned back, she was breathing hard, as her gaze landed on him.

  “What happened? Did I black out? Maybe I needed more blood than Paulette gave me.” She looked towards the dash and noticed the windshield wasn’t there. “Were we in an accident?”

  Not understanding what was going on himself, he allowed a moment of silence to pass, as he thought about what he could say without admitting what he’d done to her. The powerful control he wielded over his appetite was crumbling, and a red haze started to intrude on his field of vision.

  “We need to get home, chér.”

  Chapter 18

  “Henri! Get the door, s’il vous plait,” Paulette said, as she came out of the rear of the house to the chimes of the bell and went to the library. “Luc, someone is here.”

  “Oh?” He looked up at her from where he was seated. “Were we expecting anyone tonight? I didn’t see anyone on the schedule. This isn’t a playing night.”

  She shook her head and then waited, while he folded his newspaper and set it on the side table. When he rose and passed in front of her, she followed him. As they went towards the door, she saw three people enter the foyer.

  “Please wait here. The monsieur or madame will be with you shortly.”

  “Oui, we’re here,” Luc said, looking them over. “Is there something we can help you with?”

  “Hello. I’m Clarence Collins. This is my partner Jana Noskova, and this is Ethan Boudreaux. We’re with The Directive.”

  Paulette’s hands flew to her mouth to stop her shriek of fear.

  “I see. Bien! I’m Luc, and this is my wife, Paulette.” She gave a quick curtsy, not knowing what the proper protocol was in the situation, but wanting to show respect. “First, let me welcome you to our city. But allow me to temper that by acknowledging that for you to be here in New Orleans, there must be a serious issue in the area.” Luc gestured to the hallway from which he and Paulette had come. “Let’s go to my library, where we can sit and see how we can assist you.”

  Dashing to the room, Paulette flashed around, picking up papers, reshelving books, fluffing pillows, and giving it a quick dusting. Then she went to stand by Luc’s chair, as she patted her hair for flyaways, hoping she looked presentable.

  They came inside, and Luc waved his arm.

  “Please have a seat.”

  “May I offer you a drink?” Paulette asked, stepping to the wet bar. “I’m sure we have whatever you would like in stock.”

  “Chateau Lafite 1865?” Clarence said.

  Her head jerked up at the rare vintage, as she went over the list of what was stored in the wine cellar. What he requested was not among them.

  “Perhaps I misspoke. I apologize. I... I....”

  He winked at her and said, “Joking, of course. Nobody has it that I’m aware of. If someone does, they’re keeping it in a secret stash. I’ll take a single malt whiskey if you have it.”

  Relaxing a bit at his seemingly dry-witted humor, she pulled a bottle from the cabinet.

  “An Abita. I like exploring local beers,” Jana said.

  “I’ll have the same as Jana,” Ethan added with a nod. “Thanks.”

  “And for you, mon amour?”

  “An...” He paused, and she could tell he was searching for the name of the brew Jana mentioned. “...Abita? Oui. Why not?”

  “Would you like frosted glasses, as well?”

  “No need to bother yourself with that. Come join us,” Clarence replied for their group. “Monsieur Bellerive, sounds as if like me, you’re not a beer drinker.”

  Paulette tensed, but Luc shrugged, not missing a beat at Clarence’s ha
ving known their last name.

  “Eh, I’m French. Wine is in my blood.”

  They laughed, and Paulette’s anxiety lessened at the sound.

  After placing the bottle and glasses onto a wood tray, she carried it to their guests, serving Clarence first, then Jana and Ethan, and her husband last. It was the hierarchy in the group that she’d observed and thought she should follow.

  Raising his beer in the air, Luc smiled and said, “Santé.”

  “Cheers,” Ethan replied.

  They each took a sip. Then after setting his drink on the side table, Luc leaned forward, placing his forearms on his knees, directing his attention to Clarence.

  “Shall we get down to business?”

  Clarence tipped his glass towards Luc.

  “Yours is one of the oldest families here in New Orleans, and that’s why we thought we’d start here.”

  “Oui. We are.”

  “Have you noticed anything unusual in the city?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Vampires going rogue, draining and murdering humans.”

  “Here? In New Orleans? You can’t be serious.”

  “Unfortunately, I am.”

  “I told you, they’re keeping a low profile,” Jana said.

  “Who would be insane enough to do that?” Luc asked. “Vampires and other supernaturals have coexisted with humans in relative harmony for many decades now.”

  “I have the proof with me.” Lifting his eyes to Paulette, Clarence said, “You may wish to look away, madame. These photos are graphic.”

  “Of course,” Paulette said, as she turned around.

  Some papers rustled, and then the room went quiet.

  “Mon Dieu,” Luc murmured. “Where is the head?”

  “We don’t know,” Paulette heard Clarence say.

  “How many killed?”

  “Enough to imply a massive coverup by use of vampire compulsion, complicity with crooked officers in local law enforcement, or both. Those involved could be elected as parish council members, for all we know. Perhaps even more influential than that.”

  “Tonight is the first I’ve heard about any of this.”