Night's Vampires: Three Novels

by H. T. Night

“Our sources have told us you have a fondness for crepes and waffles,” Racco advised, motioning for me to move out to the veranda where Mercel and the chef, a pretty blonde female named Annette waited next to a table set for two. In addition to the batter varieties were roasted potatoes, bacon, and an assortment of fruit. “Have you made a decision as to having more champagne, or would you prefer something warmer, like cocoa or cider?”

  I noticed another fireplace outside on the veranda, and the room felt comfortable, despite the French doors standing wide open. The view beyond was indeed spectacular, reminding me of a vacation with my family to Vermont several years ago, although these hills stood more majestic.

  “Champagne will be fine,” I told him, following his lead outside. We sat across from each other, and Annette placed a crepe and a waffle on my plate. Meanwhile, Racco settled for a few strips of bacon. It occurred to me then that I had yet to see him dine heavy—always taking small portions. I suddenly worried that he might view me as a cow in comparison. But the appetite suppressant from the earlier pill had worn off. I was starving again. Perhaps sensing the awkwardness, Racco asked Annette to make him a fresh crepe.

  “Go ahead and leave another bottle for later, Mercel,” said Racco, after we had finished our meal. “We will call for you and Annette to remove this before we return to the castle.”

  He motioned for them both to leave, and once they had returned downstairs Racco turned his attention to me.

  “Come, let us sit near the fire inside,” he said. “I believe we both have some unfinished business to attend.”

  Racco got up and shot me another seductive look, and then pulled out my chair for me. He then gently grasped my hand and led me back inside the chalet, walking over to a black bear rug laid out in front of the fireplace.

  “Perhaps it is a little warm over here, but once our body heat matches the fire then we can move elsewhere.”

  I had nothing to say, offering subtle head nods to acknowledge my eager agreement to whatever he wanted. Racco’s smooth seduction skills had already made it clear that he would decide how the rest of the afternoon would progress, leaving me as a passive participant. Truth be told, all I could think of was his powerful arms wrapped around me again, and I eagerly anticipated picking up from where we left off the other day.

  The rest of what happened quickly became a blur…a passionate jaunt to ecstasy! His hands roamed freely while his lips caressed mine, and I felt myself melt in his embrace, barely aware that he was removing my clothes and his.

  It took only a few minutes to be fully ready for him to take me, although I was grateful for the extended foreplay…just goes to show, I guess, that older males have a better understanding of what it takes to get a woman to full orgasm. His lips continued to caress mine and moved down my neck and to my breasts while his fingers massaged my sex to full readiness.

  Yes, I was ready—more than ready, and I begged him to enter me. He raised himself up, preparing to do just that when all of a sudden a loud thud shook the entire chalet.

  “What in the hell was that?” I murmured between gasps, while he looked warily around him.

  “Racco get away from HER!!! Txema, no! NO!!”

  We both heard the voice…a female, shrieking in anger. But there was something unnatural about the voice as well…a muffled crackling sound accompanied it as it floated throughout the room. Difficult to pinpoint where it came from, it resounded again, only this time the voice emanated from the fireplace. The shriek louder and clearer the second time around, the fire grew stronger, as if a bucket filled with gasoline had just been launched onto the flames.

  We looked in that direction, and this time both of us gasped.

  An enlarged face glared at us, ethereal, with green eyes ablaze and menacing fangs fully bared. A face I had come to know fairly well.

  The face of Chanson de Eternelle.

  Chapter 20

  Talk about a mood-buster.

  Chanson’s unexpected intrusion into Racco’s and my afternoon bedroom romp completely destroyed the mood. Even before the image dissipated into the flames it was ‘diver down’ for Racco. For the first time that day, his incredible charisma and unflappable self-confidence had been dimmed. The exaggerated face of my ancestral cousin seemed to focus mostly on him—at least while it glared at us—and it definitely had the affect her words demanded.

  And here I thought vampires slept during the day. Obviously, they could still sense the nefarious activities of the mortals they took interest in. At least Chanson could, anyway.

  Racco avoided looking at me until we both were fully clothed again. Intense awkwardness followed, and it seemed his warmth—that passionate attention he had shown to me since we first met on his yacht four days earlier—was no longer there. I admit I bristled when he flashed that gorgeous smile of his for the chef, Annette, when we boarded the helicopter to return to the castle and only glanced at me. For the rest of our ride he and I looked out separate windows to avoid eye contact with each other.

  I should’ve said something about it, or at least asked him what was wrong. After all, what in the hell did Chanson’s rude interruption have to do with the budding romance between him and I? But the stubbornness that is my hallmark prevented me from talking to him about it or anything else…at least for the time being.

  By the time we arrived at the castle, it was nearing four o’clock, and sunset in the mountains had already started. Within the next couple of hours, the vampires would awaken. I could hardly wait for an additional scowl and tongue–lashing from my vampire protectors. Especially from Chanson.

  The chilliness between me and Racco remained, and once inside the castle I could tell the servants felt the awkward air surrounding us, barely making eye contact with either Racco or myself.

  Getting more perturbed by the minute, I waved off Mercel’s offer to escort me to my room, climbing the stairs alone. I needed the solitude…to think, and to reassess my situation, and especially my ‘incarceration’. Really, it was more that than anything else, since I couldn’t go home when I wanted to do so. Hell, I had already seen how the vampires guarded my every move—as if waiting for me to take flight.

  When I arrived at my bedchamber, the door was slightly ajar. I cautiously entered my room.

  “Hello?” I called out, loud enough to hear a slight echo bounce off the walls. “Is anybody here?”

  I received no response.

  “Hello?” I repeated. But after tiptoeing through the entire room and adjacent bathroom, I soon confirmed no one else was there.

  Maybe one of Racco’s servants had visited my room and forgot to close the door when they left, since another evening outfit had been laid out on the bed. This time it was a Vera Wang pantsuit featuring a beautiful white satin blouse with gold orchids against the suit’s gray pinstripes, along with black satin Dolce and Gabbana high heels. It seemed more like something Raquel would pick out and put together.

  Though I didn’t need one, I allowed myself another luxurious bath to sooth my muscles that were reacting to the workout I put them through trying to keep up with Racco as we skied down the mountainside. Or, maybe this was really an effort to wash away the physical memory of our heavy foreplay on the bearskin rug in his chalet. If the awkwardness between us continued, I might as well get a head start on eradicating the remnants of our intimacy to help ease any withdrawal pain.

  Alas, infatuation’s tenuous reality.

  I almost fell asleep in the bathtub, gasping for a moment on perfumed soap bubbles that covered my face and damn near went up my nose! I guess I should be grateful I didn’t somehow drown, and it made me wonder if this was an energy-crash after affect from the strange pill I ingested that morning.

  Finally, just before 6:00 p.m. I was fully dressed and ready to face the vampire world. Not knowing what to expect, I left my room and headed downstairs. The place seemed almost as quiet as it had earlier that day, at least until I approached the dining hall.

  It sounded like
a Mardi Gras parade moved through the castle just beyond the pair of heavy oak doors that marked the dining hall’s entrance. Since they were open last night, I had no idea the doors contained detailed engravings. Each door bore the image of a muscular angel with gilded wings that appeared to be made from real gold. Perhaps gold leaf foil had been overlaid upon the carved images. Or, maybe the wings were created from solid gold. Impressive either way, I briefly chuckled at the thought that if silver had been used instead, perhaps the hall that lay behind the doors would sit empty. A vampire-less chapel, perhaps? Or, maybe just a dining hall for the living?

  “Hel-lo Txema!” said a familiar voice from behind me, as I debated whether to step up and knock loudly on the door or simply walk right into the hall unannounced. “Why do you dally so much?”

  “Because it could seem rude to just barge in there!” I retorted while whirling around. Armando stood there, dressed in a traditional tux. Beaming with delight, either at his own witty comment or my self-imposed predicament, he looked even more regal than usual. “You do expect common manners to be adhered to…correct?”

  “Ah, but what is ‘polite’ to mankind could be deemed unnecessary or even offensive by the race of immortals!” he chided me, laughing at my expense while he threw his hands toward the doors. They flew open as if he carried a magic wand. “Ladies first—that is a rule for both the undead and those destined to be dust!”

  Mean words delivered with a silver tongue and jester’s smile. At least he succeeded in getting me to snicker.

  A party was indeed in full swing inside the dining hall. Balloons and streamers hung from the ceiling, and it seemed that even more vampires joined the event tonight. Almost like a costume ball, although by then I understood that every waking moment for these vampires was an opportunity for fun and excess. A good number of the vamps were dressed in eighteenth century French aristocracy gowns and suits. But unlike these revelers of the bloodiest era in French history, Garvan and Franz approached from across the room, dressed in twenty-first century apocalypse black garb, including gothic capes, mirror sunglasses and they wore their hair spiked. Their black stiletto boots were equipped with steel chains that hung silent as they floated toward me through the air.

  Unlike last night, they were both smiling. Not immediately seeing Racco anywhere in the room, I assumed they must’ve learned about the afternoon’s amorous disaster.

  “You look ravishing, my chere!” Garvan enthused, after he and Franz joined us.

  By then, I was already looking toward the roasted fowl on the table, ready to be carved by one of the few warm-blooded human beings in the room. It didn’t matter if the bird was turkey, chicken, or some sort of local pheasant. I felt hungry enough to eat the very carving tray it sat upon.

  “You two could pass for Linkin Park’s bodyguards,” I replied. “Do you guys party like this every night?”

  “Who is ‘Linkin Park’?” asked Franz, his expression perplexed.

  “A rock band, no?” offered Armando, his tone impish. “Next time they come to Paris you should join us at the Theatre du Chatelet. We can hang out in the rafters, and maybe share a nice young boy before we leave!”

  Franz’s expression turned serious, glancing at me while Garvan lowered his shades to glare at Armando.

  “You two take everything so serious!” sniffed Armando, in obvious mock contrition. “I will take my leave of you and see what Chanson is up to.”

  Before I could tell him that I wanted to come along, he was gone. Not even a blur. These guys and gals must have some sort of hyper-speed when they get really miffed.

  “We do not party like this every night,” said Garvan, in response to my earlier question. “Yes, we try to have as much fun as possible, and parties are frequent. Part of what you have been treated to these past few days is our celebration for your continued safety. At some point, Gustav plans to taper off the constant pampering, so you are not overwhelmed. And, in truth, that will now happen sooner than expected. But tonight…tonight will be one of our most festive events in recent years!”

  “Why?” I asked, without thinking my full question through first. I didn’t like the way Garvan said ‘sooner than expected’.

  It sounded a little ominous, like something bad had happened and that the original plan shared with me last night had changed. Chanson’s surreal angry face flashed before my mind, and I hoped I hadn’t pissed off the vampires beyond an apologetic repair.

  “The answer to your question will be answered soon,” a mellow voice to my right suddenly announced. I nearly jumped since it sounded so close to my ear, like an abrupt boom that faded to a whisper. When I turned my head, Gustav stood beside me, dressed in another papal robe and cap, only the dominant colors were gold and a deep rich purple. “But first, you must nourish yourself. Come, join me at the table.”

  He held out his hand for me to take, and I was surprised when his hand felt warm. I noticed then that his alabaster complexion seemed more blushed than the previous night. I also saw that his fingernails were longer, with predatory tips sharpened to keen edges. A slight golden glow emanated from his eyes. The king of vampires had either recently fed, or some other fiery force energized him to where he stood out even more against his peers than the previous night.

  As before, he motioned for me to join him next to his throne, motioning to the servant girl standing next to the roasted bird I so admired to cut me a serving and bring it up to where I sat. Another glance around the room revealed Chanson, Raquel, and Nora had moved to a corner with Armando. Dressed in exotic flamenco style, they were engaged in an animated discussion. I assumed it was serious until I heard Armando’s uproarious laughter while the female trio smiled at what he told them.

  Still, there was no sign of Racco, and I began to worry for his welfare.

  “Perhaps you would like Merlot again tonight, or do you have another preference?” asked Gustav, his tone laced with compassion.

  “Actually, maybe a lighter wine would be better,” I said, thinking that Merlot at this castle would come from Racco’s private stock, which would make me think of him all the more. “Do you have something simple, like maybe zinfandel?”

  “I believe so….Mercel?”

  Racco’s trusted assistant appeared, stepping around from a bar nearby. I hadn’t noticed his presence, but seeing him now made me feel better about things…better about Racco’s absence. Maybe things would be okay after all—for both of us. At least that’s what I took Mercel’s warm smile and carefree gait as he approached the table.

  “A glass of the finest zinfandel for the lady in honor,” said Gustav.

  “Yes, I shall pour her a glass and bring it over.”

  He bowed to us both and hurried back to the bar. He returned a moment later with my preferred beverage for the evening.

  “Would you enjoy a salad with your dinner?” Gustav asked me, after waving off Mercel’s offer to prepare an RH negative cocktail for him, apparently his usual preference.

  “No, I’m fine,” I told him, between bites of what I assumed was chicken. Either that or the biggest Cornish hen I’d ever seen. It was excellent, as was the wine—obviously another cherished bottle from Racco’s collection. “This is quite good.”

  “Excellent!” he beamed.

  He turned his attention to the party around us while I ate. As the night before, the vampires feasted on blood at room temperature from several vats around the room and an extra two punchbowls on the table. Meanwhile, I caught Chanson studying me from her corner of the room. Wearing a slight smile on her face, I assumed she might suddenly appear before me. But for the time being she remained where she was, and soon returned to her conversation with Raquel and Nora. Armando had disappeared, and when I looked over at Garvan and Franz, who had joined a group of females dressed in early Renaissance Italian attire, he wasn’t with them either.

  Perhaps to distract me from my Racco quest, Gustav engaged me in conversation. I thought it might be painful, given my initial imp
ressions of him the night before. Pleasantly surprised to find that it wasn’t, we talked about my aborted studies in America and what life was like growing up in Virginia. It wasn’t until he signaled to the rest of the room that he had an important announcement to make that I realized he had expertly got me to talk about me and yet said nothing about himself. I couldn’t decide if that was a good thing or not, since understanding how these vampires read thoughts and such, what did I reveal during our conversation that he didn’t already know?

  The room grew quiet, as Gustav rose from his throne. At the moment, he was the only one floating in the room, as the others either gathered in small groups or took a seat at the table. I wondered if the groups represented some sort of geographical separation, since I doubted seriously that all of them originated from France—or even resided here on a full-time basis. Hearing the variety of dialects and accents around me during the past two nights supported this notion.

  Racco stood just inside the doorway, dressed in the same Body Armor, I assumed, and wearing a casual beige dress coat and jean. I think I said before that it wouldn’t matter how the man dressed, as he is always gorgeous. But either he didn’t see me—or worse—chose not to acknowledge my presence next to the throne. I wanted to go to him and say something… to find some way to reconnect. But Gustav had already begun to address his flock.

  “My brothers and sisters, compatriots of the dark gift we’ve shared freely for so many centuries. As you all know, our way of life—the manner in which we have ruled this continent and the very world—is now threatened in ways unseen before….”

  I tried to take it all in….to do so seriously, praying to God that my irreverent thoughts would somehow go undetected by the undead throng gathered around me. I definitely didn’t want Gustav to gain any telepathic inkling as to what I thought about the grandiose manner in which he addressed the crowd of vampires gathered in the dining hall. Hell, if his flamboyant cap had covered his eyes, it would seem like the Ku Klux Klan’s Grand Dragon spoke instead. That thought brought a wry smile to my face, which I’m sure someone would’ve noticed.