Nuit Noire

by Carol Robi

  “I prefer saying I met you at the edge of the pier on a.. what did you call it- une nuit noire? Not on a midnight dreary. Poe freaks me out,” I tell him. He chuckles lightly, his gloved finger running along my arm, leaving a trail of goosebumps as it does so.

  “Une nuit noire it is,” he tells me.

  “He named this place for you,” Hilda shocks me by saying. I look at her unconvinced.

  “Both the club and the restaurant,” Peter says, confirming Hilda’s words. “He rushed here after meeting you at that pier for the first time. Repairs were still underway, and permits had been received to call this club, Club Strain, and the restaurant, The Grand Eateries. Gauthier wouldn’t have any of that though. We had to delay the grand opening just so we could change the names.” I look up at Gauthier and confirm what I am hearing.

  “It was the night my whole life changed,” he breathes. I do not know what to say to that, so I instead squeeze his hand in mine, and turn to his father.

  “Why did you turn him? Touch him?”

  “I knew him as a human. He worked as an errand boy at a bordel I had in Paris in the middle-ages. His mother was ummh.. an employee of mine there.”

  “Isn’t a bordel a..?”

  “A brothel,” Gauthier says, pulling his hand away from me and filling the goblet before him with wine which he then sips, never once looking at me.

  “Oh.” I say. “Ummh.. your mom..”

  “She was a whore,” he says bitterly. I look at him stunned, and everyone else around the table tries not to look our way. An uncomfortable silence falls over us.

  “Gauthier..”

  “I know I was born of stained parentage..”

  “Gauthier..”

  “..I don’t even know who my biological father was..”

  “Come on..”

  “I am lowly born..”

  “Gauthier, stop it!” It surprises him when I speak so sternly that he looks up at me. “I do not know the society you were born into, but in the twenty first century, children don’t pay for their parents’ mistakes. Who you are is what you make yourself to be. Besides, you have a new family now. Your dad is Ælderic and your mom is Xristina. That is all that matters.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes really!” I tell him, grabbing his hands into mine. “I don’t care what your mother did for a living,” I tell him, looking into his eyes.

  “Well, I’ll be damned!” His father shocks me by saying. “I’ve tried for half a millenium to tell him that and all it takes is some months with you for him to listen? I am really glad he found you, Sophia,” his father says, and I smile up at him.

  “Me too,” I say. ”Go ahead. Tell me about it. Why Gauthier?”

  “Well, I watched this little knuckle grow in my facility. He was born there, and spent all his life there. The best errand boy I ever had, mind you. He’d do right about anything he's instructed to with so much zeal and dedication, you’d think he’d been called out to fight for his country or something.” We all laugh at this. “He died far too young, with a fever. Just eleven years old. I knew then that he’d be my son. Xristina agreed with me. The two of us had been searching for a child for a while by then.”

  “But.. Didn’t people ask questions when the dead boy suddenly came to life?” I ask puzzled.

  “They would have if they saw him, which they didn’t. I sold the establishment and moved my family North for a while. I’ve never regretted having Gauthier as my son, or any of my other children,” he says, looking to Hilda and Hemming. “And their Xana’s are always welcomed into my family,” he adds.

  “Thank you, Ælderic,” I say smiling up at him.

  “Thank you father,” Peter says, pulling Hilda into his arms, who giggles like a little girl as she rests her head on his chest.

  “Do you have a father?” I ask Ælderic.

  “Grandfather is the father of our race. Daugn. He is sleeping now.” I turn back to Gauthier as he speaks. “He has two sons, father and Kendrick. Kendrick’s family is living in Australia at the moment. We have two cousins, Sirje and Colton. Kendrick is asleep now and Markus is taking care of the family.”

  “Markus?”

  “Yeah. He is Kendrick’s xana. You don’t have a problem with homosexuality do you?”

  “No, of course not!” I hurry to reassure him.

  “Good, because they’ll be visiting us this coming autumn. Kendrick will still be sleeping, but Markus, Colton, Sirje and her xana Igwe will come.”

  “It’s going to be great,” Hilda puts in. “We’ll be waking mother.”

  “You will?”

  “Yeah. It’ll be great to see her again,” she says happily.

  “I understand exactly how you feel. I’d miss my mother terrible if I didn’t see her for a week. I can’t imagine not seeing her for almost a whole century.” I shudder at the thought.

  “Has Gauthier invited you to my birthday party next week?” Peter asks me. I shake my head curiously.

  “You’re holding out on me, babe!” I say, punching his arm lightly, feeling a tingle of electricity where we come in contact. He just laughs and attempts to evade my next swing.

  “We were still debating about it,” Gauthier says. “It’s dangerous for you in our house as the only human..”

  “Peter is a human!” I point out in a pout.

  “He is..” Gauthier starts to say, but seems unsure of what he is saying as his gaze is now resting on my still pouting lips. I tremble slightly, and my lips part unbidden, when Ælderic’s voice interrupts our reverie.

  “Behave kids,” his voice booms close to my ears, causing me to nearly jump out of my chair, Hemming’s amused laughter now sounding clear.

  “What Gauthier wanted to tell you is that Peter knows how to survive when his life is being pulled away from him. You don’t,” Ælderic proceeds to say. “Not at the moment at least.”

  “But..” I start to complain.

  “However..” Ælderic drives on amused, “we have decided that you are now family, and ought to come over and visit our family home. We shall make sure to invite a full catering staff even for our small party of six, just so that you are not at risk,” he finishes, chuckling at my now beaming face.

  “Great!” I exclaim. “Now just to get mom’s permission,” I say laughing, and they all smile amused.

  “Why this, Ælderic?” I ask much later, gesturing to the writhing bodies in the night club. “A night club here, a brothel in Paris.. You could have any kind of business. Why this kind?” I ask him. He laughs before answering me.

  “Do you know how much energy they expend unbidden just by dancing? By..” He chuckles. “It is very gratifying for us to sit here.”

  “They are almost always in a constant high,” Peter tells me. “It’s so difficult to get Hilda to go anywhere with me. Even just for a walk..”

  “You always want to go for a walk, or go to a gallery opening here, or some boring art exhibition there..” Hilda says laughing. “After you die, all you’ll want to do is stay in here and drink your fill.”

  “I am not sure if I ought to be happy or sad about it. On one hand I’m pleased at the idea of always having you in my life,” he says smiling, placing a kiss on her lips. “On the other hand, it’s slightly depressing to think I’ll spend quite a great amount of time in dark rooms such as this,” he says.

  “You don’t have to spend it sitting on a chair,” Hilda says, rising to her feet with more agility than I’d credit a sixty something year old woman with, and pulls her husband into her arms. They then sachay away on the empty floor space separating the raised floor we are on and the dance floor below.

  I look at them with a happy smile on my face, the apprehensions I had about his family slowly slipping away.

  “Would you like to dance?” Gauthier asks, and I turn towards him, the wide smile on my face his answer.

  I let out a scream when he suddenly jumps to his feet and spins me off the chair into his arms.

  Chapt
er 20

  “What time’s your boyfriend coming over?” Tony asks.

  “Any minute now,” I answer him.

  I still have it difficult believing that Gauthier is my boyfriend. I often puzzle over how it had come to be that I, the most unlikely girlfriend material ever, with my self-destructive streaks, sharp tongue, and tendency to stick my foot in my mouth, now have a steady boyfriend. I with the emotional stability of a seven year old, and poor self-esteem that stems from years of being befriended just because people wanted to get to know my brother better. I always knew I was good-looking, better than average at least, but years of insecurity rising from guys talking to me because they were my brother’s friends, and girls complimenting me in hopes of being friends with me and getting me to put in a good word for them with my brother can take its toll on right about anyone.

  “There he is!” I can’t help but squeal when I catch sight of his grey sports car, despite the thick fog, crawl into the driveway.

  “Be cool..” Tony starts to say, but I throw caution in the air, ignore his advice and rush out the door, stopping only short of throwing myself into Gauthier’s arms as he steps around his car.

  I take a casual step forward, my body shaking in anticipation, his wide smile inviting, and when I next take another step, he too does the same. Meeting me in the middle, his arms move around me in a brief but gratifying embrace.

  I cannot stop myself from running my hands hungrily over the soft material of his shirt stretched tight over his lean firm body under his jacket, as he takes a deep breath, burying his face in my hair. We allow ourselves a second more of pure bliss, before we both break away simultaneously. I step away, my knees weak and my breathing laboured, while he turns his face away, attempting to hide the fiery orange glow in his eyes.

  “My brother is home,” I tell him, as I join him in walking towards the front door.

  “You said we’d be alone.” I smile at the growl in his voice, his disappointment clear.

  “He’s come down with a flu,” I explain. “He is to stay indoors all day. Mom said so.” Gauthier now stops moving and turns to me, his now under-control dark eyes meet my deep brown ones.

  “But I wanted you to myself all day!” His lowly whispered words cause my hair to stand on its end with excitement, and yet a new knot tightens in my stomach.

  “I want you too,” I tell him. I am not entirely sure which want we are talking about, but the case is the same for all.

  “We could go to..” I shake my head before he finishes his sentence.

  “I told my mom we’d stay here at the house. She’s very particular now, after the incident with dad,” my voice falters a little. “She gets worried,” I explain. “She likes us to stick to the plans we make with her. She agreed to you coming over. If we leave, I have to call her at work and tell her, then she’ll have a hundred and one questions for us,” I tell him.

  “What about at the lake?” Gauthier asks.

  “That might actually work,” I tell him smiling. “But it’ll be freezing now,” I finish off shuddering, for it still is the middle of spring, and that means freezing cold, here up North.

  He then takes an unexpected step closer and whispers, “what about now?” His words are like a warm wind encircling me, warming my features despite the cold breeze, and it reminds me of that first dark night I met him at the pier.

  “Let’s go to the lake,” I agree, and he smiles triumphantly.

  “We are going to the lake, Tony!” I call when I stick my head through the front door, catching sight of Tony lying in a thick faux fur throw over heavily fluffed up pillows, a large mug of warm chai resting before him. He is such a baby when he is sick!

  “Are you insane! You’ll freeze out there,” he says. “What’s up, man,” he calls to Gauthier.

  “What’s up!” Gauthier says in answer, making a quick wave. “Get well soon!”

  “Thanks man,” Tony says weakly. I roll my eyes again. Such a baby!

  “We’ll see you later!” Is all I call before grabbing my heavy coat hanging by the door and rushing back out.

  Gauthier and I walk hand in hand. We can’t seem to stop, since we first held hands. We always want to be in proximity with each other. He has now taught me to feed off his air as he does on mine, which just means each time he takes my energy, I am to inhale him deeply. His scent. I find the effect intoxicating, and once we start, we never stop. I am not that good at it, but I’m slowly getting better. If I master this perfectly, I know we’ll finally be able to touch bare skin, then kiss.

  We soon enough get to the narrow beach. The fog around us thick, its humid tentacles chilling as they cut across my face.

  I look on in surprise as Gauthier starts stripping off his clothes, starting with his scarf and jacket, then his long-sleeved turtle neck shirt goes.

  “What are you doing?” I ask, distracted by his now bare chest. He gives me a cheeky wink. “Come on!”

  “Are you crazy!” I tell him. I am still staring at his chest, marveling at its taut skin over his lean muscles, when he moves on to start undoing the buttons on his pants.

  “We’ll freeze to death,” I remind him, my voice strained, breathing with difficulty as hundreds of butterflies flutter about simultaneously in my stomach.

  “No we won’t,” he tells me, now bent over, pulling down his pants, and I am forced to turn away, mainly to cool my cheeks rather than for propriety’s sake.

  “Come on,” he now says. I do not turn around, but I suspect he is standing naked behind me. “Let’s go for a swim. Take a leap of faith with me, love.”

  I must be insane, or maybe it is because my body is burning feverishly hot at the moment, but I do start to strip off my clothes, starting with my heavy coat.

  However contrary to my original fears, I do not feel colder with each piece of clothing I take off. Gauthier’s proximity, and his fanning warm breath surrounds me, warming me up.

  “How many clothes do you have on?” He asks impatiently, causing my body heat to impossibly raise some more, as I am once again aware that he is watching me.

  “As many as a regular human being needs to keep warm at minus five degrees,” I say nervously, my fingers shaking slightly as I tug my top off, leaving me in a bra. I feel the air impossibly get even warmer. He must have seen my shaking fingers and assumed it is from the cold. I do not correct his mistake, but now concentrate on kicking off my high boots and dragging off my thick thermo-leggings. When I next stand upright, I am left in my underwear.

  “Come on,” he voices with difficulty, his growl unmistakable as he grabs my hand and starts running in the direction of the pier. We keep running hand in hand on the old wooden planks along the length of the pier, the fog so thick that I don’t see the end of the pier until it’s too late.

  I’d have fallen into the water with my next step, if Gauthier had not just then grabbed me by my waist and leaped so high into the air with me, before letting us fall back down into the freezing water with a loud splash. I cry out with excitement as the chilly water slaps my features, and I sink deep into the lake, deep enough that it’s considerable warmer. And when my body starts resurfacing back to the cooler waters above, Gauthier’s hands find mine, and his warmth spreads around me just as my head breaks through the surface.

  I am laughing with excitement, adrenalin, my tears of joy mingled with the lake’s water streaming down my face, looking up at the not so clear face of the boy I love, which is slightly obscured by the fog around us. I move even closer, for the closer I am to him, the warmer it gets, and I see his eyes ignite into a fire I never get tired of kindling.

  I surprise him by lifting his right hand into my mouth, and his mouth forms a surprised O as I bite at the leather glove and pull it off, taking his now bare warm hand into mine.

  “Sophia,” he starts to discourage me, but his next words are lost when I net my bare fingers with his.

  It is a strange set of rules that surround us. Yes, he could easily kill me,
but over the months spent with him, I’ve realised that there is greater power to hold over someone than their life in your hands. Like the power I hold over him. He loves me. No power is greater than that. I love him too. He is as much spellbound to me as I am to him, though I have more power as I do not know how it feels to roam the world in solitude for five hundred years. That knowledge makes him subconsciously grant me astonishing power over himself. Like right this moment.

  My fingers burn where his are intertwined to mine, but I do not let that deter me from my goal. I move even closer to him.

  “Please don’t let me hurt you,” he begs, his eyes like beam torches, the hunger in them stroking my bravery.

  “I won’t,” I tell him softly, dropping the glove between my teeth to float on the still waters of the lake. I now move his other hand to my lips. He tries to fight me, he is stronger, so I weaken him by blowing to his face, my exhale momentarily distracting him. He leans back and inhales deeply as I take a finger into my mouth and bite at the leather glove, effortlessly pulling it off and letting it also fall onto the calm water surface.

  “Sophia,” he cries again in a whisper. My name is like a gentle breeze on his lips, fanning me with the warmth of his intentions.

  I move closer again, our hands still interlocked. I move yet even closer, his exhale now burning my face. I lean over to place my hands around his neck, and touch my forehead to his. He is shaking now, trying his best not to inhale, as I try again and again to blow my breath to his lips.

  His resolve finally caves in, his lips parting slightly, and he inhales my breath deeply, weakening me considerably. I fight against it, but I fail, so I instead choose to force myself to inhale him.

  Inhale! I command myself repeatedly, until my muscles work just as I begin to spasm from lack of air, and I take in his heady scent, take him in, letting him intoxicate me as much as I am intoxicating him. His hands move to lock around my waist, mine still anchored around his neck, our foreheads now pressed together, as we drink in each other’s essence.