Jack of Diamonds

by LeighEllwood

  The woman paused, her expression momentarily puzzled, then laughed gaily as she patted his shoulder. "Oh, forgive me. Force of habit," she said. "I don't find many tourists here, what with the house being so far away from all the usual attractions."

  "I know." Jack tried to smile, but instead did his best to discreetly brush away the crumbled sugar and butter crumbs from his sweater.

  "First time in Paris?" When Jack nodded, she continued, "I do hope you'll enjoy your stay," she said. "Of course, you can tell easily I'm not a native," Flora's ample chest shook with quiet laughter, "but the city is more my home than my actual hometown could ever be. I don't think I could ever leave, I have so many friends here."

  "So many friends. I made a good friend not long ago myself." He reached into his pocket for the small trinket that had become his worry stone. He set the heart-shaped rose quartz on the table and spun it idly, watching the point and rounded curves blur into a perfect circle. "He gave me this."

  Flora began to rattle off the current menu of dainty edibles and finger sandwiches, but stopped upon seeing the quartz charm. The knowing look on the stocky woman's face relieved Jack. At the very least, Miss Ruby hadn't sent him on a wild goose chase by picking a city off an atlas and a restaurant from an Internet search.

  "I have the feeling," Flora said, taking the chair opposite Jack's, "what you want is not on my menu." Her eyes fixed on the spinning heart until it stopped, pointing directly at Jack.

  Jack shook his head. Flora's smile bore a recognition of the jewel that rattled him. Even as this happened, he still couldn't believe it. He wanted to look around for hidden cameras.

  "Trust me, as long I've been harboring them, I still have trouble accepting how integrated these phenomenal creatures are in our society. You," she pointed at Jack, "I already know, too, believe it or not."

  Jack's heart lifted at that. She wouldn't know unless somebody had come to tell her. "That I'm the reincarnation of an heiress from the time of Louis XIV, Le Roi Soleil," he supplied. It felt weird to say, but at least the woman didn't laugh.

  "You were Lila D'aubigne, the great love of Lars Ullsson."

  I'd like to think I still am. Lars loved this woman, this Lila, and had waited centuries for her next incarnation. By logic, Lars should be in love with him. Jack certainly loved Lars, had done so for years before their first encounter, as Lars appeared often in his dreams to woo him.

  Of course, those weren't really dreams, Jack knew, but memories of Lila's past. More and more, parts of Lila surfaced to meld with Jack's consciousness. Jack could understand Lars being confused with the gender shift in Lila's latest incarnation, but a part of him hoped Lars could look past it and see the soul and spirit of his true love, regardless of how it came packaged.

  After what they shared on Halloween, Jack wanted to believe that could happen, that they could be together. Jack shifted his legs just thinking about how his cock had felt throbbing in Lars' mouth. Now, in this little shop, his cock twitched slightly in response.

  "The story is quite the legend in these parts, her tragic death and his disappearance soon after," Flora was saying as she busied her hands smoothing the wrinkles from the tablecloth. "Lars courted Lila in secret, you know, as her family didn't approve of her consorting with a common foreigner. Lars wasn't a wealthy man, but he was handsome."

  "Lars is handsome." Jack didn't look at her, but at the heart-shaped quartz. It hadn't cost Lars much, but Lila treasured it more than the baubles rained upon her by various suitors her parents deemed worthy. Lord only knew what had happened to those trinkets.

  "Of course. Lila was to inherit a great sum of money and jewels, but marrying Lars would have left her cut off from the family. It's said Lars pressured Lila to elope, but she wouldn't live without money. It's said he killed her in anger, took the jewels, and fled the country."

  "We both know that's not true." Jack retained Lila's memory of that tragedy, the blurred face of another vampire smiling wickedly as he slashed at her. Lila hadn't cared for wealth, only Lars. Lars tried to protect Lila, but she died trying to protect him. Her death devastated him, and haunted him for centuries.

  Jack wanted nothing more than to take away that pain.

  "Unfortunately, history has no room for the fantastic, only hard evidence, and nobody found those jewels after she died." Flora sighed and looked at Jack with some longing. Jack feared the next words out of her mouth wouldn't be helpful.

  "I suppose, too, you're wondering if there is room in Lars' heart for you."

  Jack folded his hands over the heart stone. Its smooth surface was warm to the touch, as often as Jack turned it in his hands, thinking of Lars. "I want to know if he can love me for me, not just because I used to be Lila. I can accept that Lila will always be a part of me and that she will always be Lars' great love, but I wouldn't want Lila to overshadow what Lars and I could have together. What I know of Lars, I don't think he'd stay with me because he felt obligated to do so."

  He looked at Flora; there was something about her that compelled Jack to trust her with these thoughts. The matronly smile, the warm tea and comfort food aside, something in the older woman's eyes struck Jack...he felt as if he'd known her forever.

  Of course, he felt that with a number of people...his ex-lover Robert, for one. As Robert turned out to be a cheat, Jack realized he hadn't known the man at all, but tried too hard to find Lars in him.

  "Be honest," he told Flora, "do I have a chance with Lars? I mean, he loves women—"

  "He loves Lila," Flora corrected, "and you are Lila incarnate."

  "Maybe, but with Lars being immortal he could wait for me to die and for Lila to come back as a woman."

  "I don't know, my friend," Flora said. "He's waited a long time, and there's always the chance Lila would never reincarnate again. Besides, you are more like Lila than you realize, and I think Lars senses that."

  "How would you know?" Jack sniped at her.

  Flora leaned back and appeared to study Jack. "I know many things, dear. I look at you and see tired eyes, a large bag at your feet, wrinkled clothes that have been worn for days on end," she said. "Would it be perceptive of me to say that you came to Paris without making any advance reservations, and hopped the first cab out of De Gaulle to get here?"

  Jack's heart hammered. "It would. Will it be fair for me to say my efforts will be rewarded?"

  Flora smiled. "They just might."

  * * *

  He was beautiful. Even as a ragged, red-haired doll, reeking of the collective stench of a transcontinental flight full of people, Jack needed only to flash a sad smile. Green eyes peered innocently from underneath unruly bangs, sending Lars' cock to attention.

  Jack. Just Jack. Yes, Lars would acknowledge that what remained of Lila played some role in the attraction, but as Lars watched the exchange from his hiding place behind the swinging kitchen door he saw only Jack. He liked what he saw. He always had. Despite leaving Jack alone on Halloween to collect his thoughts and feelings, he knew they would come together again...for good. He should have known, however, that Jack wouldn't give him time.

  He couldn't believe Jack found Flora's so quickly, or that he knew to come to the shop in the first place. It shouldn't have surprised him, however. Lila had been a determined soul; whatever she wanted, she got. Lars should have known Jack wouldn't be satisfied with an incredible evening of oral sex without the opportunity for closure...or the start of something new and wonderful.

  He stood back as Jack and Flora rose. The rooms above the pâtisserie were vacant, and as Lars watched Jack accept a key, he didn't need to be told where Flora would send him for the night. The conniving wench; he could kiss her.

  He wondered how soon before Jack realized the significance of his living quarters, if at all.

  He watched Jack ascend the staircase lined against the far wall. Only a week had passed since Lars last saw him, and he felt starved watching the young man's retreat. The hand that gripped the railing now had been wrapp
ed around his cock once, and Lars longed for that touch again.

  Lars knew, too, underneath those loose-fitting jeans was a smooth tight ass, perfect for fucking. Lars had not fucked a woman that way before, and the anticipation of making love to Jack gnawed at him to the point that his erection could just about nudge open the door, even from this distance.

  "He's going to lie down. He's exhausted, bless his heart," Flora said when she joined Lars in the kitchen. She bustled past the vampire toward the sink and ran the faucet over Jack's teacup.

  "Very well." Lars exhaled his anxiety, blowing his bangs in all directions. "It's growing dark soon, and I need to feed. I'll go up later tonight." His voice betrayed him; he hadn't meant to sound so like an excited child in front of Flora.

  "I'm sure he'll be up." Flora turned around and rested the heels of her hands against the lip of the sink. "And there's no sense hiding that Cheshire smile. I'm not that old that I haven't forgotten the anticipation." She winked.

  Lars reached for the older woman and planted a kiss in her frothy silver pouf of hair. He owed her so much for opening the house to his kind for sanctuary, just as she had done in times past. The last thing he wanted was her discomfort.

  Flora seemed to sense this misgiving. Her laughter broke the tension. "Lars, you've waited forever for this, enjoy him," she said. "Get your love back, please? And when you do, just do me this one thing."

  Lars tilted his head to better see her soft, brown eyes.

  "Make sure he remembers. Everything."

  Lars smiled at the old woman, but it was not without a touch of discomfort.

  Three

  "Monsieur?"

  Argent's eyelids fluttered. What should have felt like a gentle nudge to the shoulder was a jackhammer shattering his bones. It was an unwise choice, flying to Paris when he could have booked passage aboard a luxury liner. He would have had a cabin for repose, and freedom to nip a few necks for sustenance without arousing suspicion. But he was too impatient to sail for weeks, despite his immortality.

  Here, he was forced to ride out the lethargy, but the need to feed was strong. He could smell the blood coursing through the veins of the stewardess who woke him.

  Her white blouse was buttoned to her throat, leaving Argent to only imagine the silky feel of her neck, and the ease with which her skin would break the second his teeth sank into her jugular. The curve of her breasts, enhanced in the billows of the shirt, was no less appealing, but Argent didn't have the strength to attempt seduction.

  He nodded lazily as the stewardess advised him in rapid French to set his seat upright. He complied as best he could as she drifted away to see to other passengers. Her scent faded with her voice, the lilting accent tickling his ears. Had he the strength and interest, he was certain his cock would have responded accordingly.

  Now, his only interest was getting to Paris, satisfying his thirst, then his vengeance. Pussy of any variety, be it French or African-American vampire psychic, could wait. Once the demons that haunted him since his brother's death were put to rest with the demon who brought them to the surface, he would have nothing but time for pleasure.

  * * *

  A bolt of lightning streaked brilliantly bluish white against the sky and shot several smaller branches through the clouds. Jack fell back from the window and into bed, then braced for the following clap of thunder.

  When it split the Parisian sky in half with a mighty crack he squealed, and felt immediately silly for doing so. Why couldn't he stop acting so queer, and distance himself from the faggot persona his ex-lovers had accused him of perpetuating?

  His behavior had to have prompted Lars' hasty retreat on Halloween—most assuredly the vampire had seen him prancing about the apartment in full tantrum mode when Robert left him. Jack couldn't begin to imagine how Lars had been drawn to him in the first place.

  Lila. Of course, Lila was a factor. He was Lila. Perhaps the memory of the vampire's lost love had overshadowed the crybaby ninny Lars ended up comforting, but would that be enough for a lifetime? Forever? Would Lars be forever looking for somebody else whenever he looked into Jack's eyes?

  Jack clutched the collar of his pajama shirt tightly around his neck in a weak attempt to ward off a sudden chill. Flora had advised him that the rooms she rented were preserved to maintain their anachronistic integrity. Quaint, perhaps, for summer visitors, but the crackling fire in the small hearth opposite the bed offered limited warmth. Jack doubted the ghosts of the eighteenth-century wouldn't have minded central heat, so why not make the guests happy, too?

  The warmth of Lars' body against his, however, was a more welcome thought as Jack slipped under the feather soft comforter. Tucking the sheets to his chin, his neck twitched as his cold fingers brushed against skin. What would it feel like to be bitten by Lars, to become a vampire? Jack imagined a rush of heat more potent than any bolt of lighting scorching the night searing through his body. Most assuredly, if Lars wanted him, he would change Jack, and Jack had to wonder if how it happened in truth was similar to how it was portrayed in the classic horror films.

  There was a certain eroticism associated with the concept in the films that frightened him as a child—bodies pressed together, the intimate moment of one mouth skimming sensitive skin for an intense kiss. It seemed as if taking blood in this fashion was a vampiric form of lovemaking. Even with the victim's mortal death, there was respect...bodies wouldn't be cast aside in disgust but were instead laid in gentle comfort for later discovery. If the movies were erotic, Jack surmised, real life had to be orgasmic.

  Lars hardly looked like Bela Lugosi with the moth-eaten tuxedo and molded black hair, white skin marked with a widow's peak. Jack recalled his lover's wavy blond hair and toned skin. He wouldn't mind being swept into those strong, sinewy arms again, and he would gladly tilt his head back to accept Lars' fangs in his throat.

  He closed his eyes. Slowly his hand slid down his chest and underneath the drawstring band of his pants to cup his limp shaft. As he stroked himself to erection, thinking of Lars, he realized what pajamas he put on for the night—baby blue flannel spotted with cartoonish puppies.

  Jesus, Jack. Sixth grade is over. If Lars nursed any misgivings now, how well would they multiply upon seeing him like this? As if the ridiculous pumpkin-patterned sweater Jack wore on Halloween hadn't been immature enough.

  "So glad he's not here," Jack murmured, still stroking his cock.

  "Oh, and why is that?"

  "Oh!"

  Jack didn't hear the window open, and hadn't sensed Lars' stealthy entrance. It was as if the vampire had simply materialized before him.

  Jack's heart fluttered and his throat dried. The fire provided little light and lent the figure looming over his bed a sinister glow, yet Lars' expression was calm, gentle.

  Loving.

  "About whom are you speaking?" Lars asked, arms folded. "I hope you didn't mean me. Why come all the way across the globe if you didn't want to see me?"

  Jack loosened the grip on his cock and pressed the hand against his inner thigh to keep it from trembling. Emotions swirled in a mental maelstrom inside his head. All throughout the flight to France, he anticipated this reunion with nervous joy. Now, he couldn't decide whether to be happy to see Lars again or to be insulted by the vampire's nonchalance. The man...the vampire...had left him unconscious and drunk in his apartment after the best blowjob of his life without a word.

  No, Jack sighed to himself, that wasn't entirely true. There was the quartz heart, which sparked Lila's memories and his fascinations with the supernatural, leading Jack to Miss Ruby for guidance.

  Lars appeared to wait for answer. Jack allowed the vampire a coy smile. He could play, too.

  "How can you be so sure I came here to see you? Paris has so much to offer."

  "More so when I'm here," Lars said, and took a step back, appraising Jack's cowering position. "What are you hiding?"

  "N-nothing." Jack's face fell slack. Coyness never was his forte. He started
as the vampire tugged playfully at the comforter.

  "Come now, let's see," he cajoled. Just as Jack expected, an amused, snorting laugh sprayed the room as Lars tried desperately to stifle it. Up went the sheets again.

  "Don't do that," Lars urged and rounded the bed to the vacant side. Every step was fluid and graceful; Jack might have guessed the vampire floated on air. "Your pajamas are fine. They just..."

  And when Lars' own smile disappeared, Jack knew. Lila had a fondness for quirky wardrobe, shocking the fashionistas of her time.

  "The pajamas are fine," Lars repeated, firmly. Then, with a devilish grin, he added, "Take them off."

  * * *

  "What do you remember of this room?"

  As he studied the dimly lighted room with wide-eyed wonder, Jack so resembled Lila it was almost unnerving. Anyone who had known the girl might have believed she cut off her long, red tresses on a whim.

  A slight shift, however, brought Jack back into focus. The desire flooding Lars never paused.

  "This was her room," Jack said at last. "This was her house."

  "It was," Lars said with a slight nod. "Flora bought it many years ago and had the rooms restored to their original splendor. The downstairs shop used to be the main parlor, and other rooms are reserved for formal parties."

  "Is Flora a vampire, too?"

  Lars chuckled. "No, but she is the reincarnation of somebody you, rather Lila, knew. She was Lila's personal maid. Fortunately, Flora's past memories surfaced quickly in time to buy the property before another developer bid on it."

  "She must have done well in this life to afford it."

  Lars shrugged. "I never asked. I'm just grateful she offers sanctuary to people like me." And you, sooner than you think.

  Jack pointed excitedly at the far corner of the narrow room. "There used to be a chair over there, upholstered in red velvet. She...I..."

  "You." Lars shed his jacket and plucked away shirt buttons, slowly revealing flashes of chest that appeared to interest Jack more than the trip down memory lane. "Keep going, love."