Nevermore, the Complete Series
Page 63
“And sleep was impossible, yet you seem pretty fond of that again already.”
With a smile, he nodded. “It is pleasant, especially with you beside me.”
By the time we made it downstairs, the small room was flooded with people picking doughnuts, danishes and muffins off of a small banquet table. I could barely make out the location of my foster father and Melissa until I heard them call my name. They were pressed up in the corner of the room, mingling with some of the other guests. After a quick wave in response, I led Salem through the crowd towards the food. There was a small stack of paper plates, I grabbed one and covered it in as many food items as possible while Salem grabbed two Styrofoam cups of orange juice. We carefully made our way to the back of the room and Desmond smiled warmly as we approached.
“I hope you slept well,” he said after sipping his coffee.
“Well…it was definitely better than that last motel,” I commented and gathered a blueberry muffin from the plate. It was moist and sweet and I consumed it within seconds. I felt as though I hadn’t eaten in ages despite the large dinner the night before.
“I see your stomach must be feeling better too, huh?” Desmond laughed as he nodded towards my overflowing plate.
“Yeah, thankfully.”
Salem casually nibbled on a cherry cheese danish and scanned the room. There were so many random people scattered around the cramped lobby, it was nearly impossible to move about without accidentally elbowing someone or stepping on their feet. A lot of the surrounding people were clearly native to Romania, and I couldn’t understand a word they were saying.
“This is your first time in Romania, right, Salem?” I asked as I continued glancing at the surrounding people.
“Yes,” he replied and dabbed at his lips with a napkin. “It was on my list of places I wanted to visit, however. I suppose now thanks to Desmond, I may mentally cross it off.”
My foster father smiled at my husband and patted him on the shoulder. “It was my pleasure. You two should join us more often on our trips.”
“Maybe,” I said with a subtle smile. This wasn’t exactly my idea of fun. There were too many people, too many words that I didn’t know, and the possibility that I was going to meet one of the strongest, vilest vampires in undead history. Perhaps I had it all wrong and Desmond brought us here to meet a kind Romanian gentleman that was merely curious about my music as he suggested, but I couldn’t shake my fears. With the way my life had played out over the past two years, there was little that would surprise me—and meeting Malik was one of those things that I could almost expect to happen.
The most difficult part of it was the fact that Desmond and Mel were, as far as I knew, completely unaware of the supernatural existing in our world. How was I going to explain to them that I was a natural-born hunter of the undead, that I was briefly a vampire myself, and oh, not to forget that my husband is technically well over one hundred years old. Mitchell and Jason may have been able to understand it, but they are young and open-minded…what would my ‘father’ think?
2. MUSEUM
The air had a slight chill to it when Salem, Desmond and I stepped outside of the hotel lobby and called for a cab. Melissa had opted to go off on her own for once, though I wasn’t quite sure why. My foster father wouldn’t tell me exactly where our destination was, and I was anxious beyond belief. A very small part of me longed to have Hannah with me, she would have warned me ahead of time if I was about to become victim to the man that corrupted my mother…but there was no telling where she was or what she was doing at this point in time. We hadn’t left on good terms, considering she was against my decision to potentially borne a creature that destroys the world. I shook my head in disbelief, causing Salem to give me a questioning stare, but I shrugged at him and played a false smile. There was no possible way that my child—our child—could be evil, especially not a vampire! It was impossible to give birth to a member of the undead—not to mention Salem and I were now fully human. Besides, I had just gotten married—having kids was still something distant in my mind.
My thoughts whirled away into nothing as a yellow cab pulled up to a curb and we climbed inside. Desmond took the front passenger seat beside the driver, and looked back at me reassuringly. He seemed quite positive that this was a grand idea and that I would be fascinated by the man he was about to introduce me to…but I wasn’t so sure. The cab driver announced that our destination was roughly ten miles away. My stomach churned once the tires started to move and we were on the road, headed toward what I feared would be a catastrophic event.
Desmond and the cab driver—whom I could barely see, and didn’t really care to—had a long discussion in Romanian that gave me a headache just hearing it. Why couldn’t they just speak in plain old English and make this simpler for me? Perhaps it was because my father wanted this to be a surprise trip. Then again, we were in Romania…maybe the driver did not know English at all.
I barely noticed Salem slip his fingers between mine and grip tightly onto my hand; I assumed he was trying to reassure me, but maybe he was just as nervous as I was. We passed the café we had eaten at a night ago, and my mind was instantly filled with memories of throwing up. I tried to alter the path of my thoughts and instead thought of the following morning when we had breakfast in the lobby. The mere idea of food was making my stomach gurgle unpleasantly. I glanced out the window again and saw a gas station, a small gift shop, and a line of identical buildings that I assumed was a community of office buildings. The cab took a sharp turn to the right after we passed the buildings and I quickly spotted a large brick museum up ahead.
“An art museum?” I asked as the cab pulled into the wide parking lot and came to a full stop. “This was the huge surprise?”
“Don’t sound too excited, Alex,” Desmond replied sarcastically. “This is where he asked us to meet him before lunch.”
“Sooo…did he think you said I was interested in art instead of music or something?”
“No, Alex.”
I shrugged and climbed out of the cab. My legs wobbled beneath me and I leaned on the door for support. Everything will be okay, Malik isn’t in this museum. Unfortunately, repeating this in my head wasn’t helping in the least.
While Desmond paid the cab driver, Salem wrapped an arm around my waist and led me to the front of the building.
“Malik won’t be in there, Alexis, I promise,” he whispered in my ear. “But, if by some chance he is, we can leave as soon as you notice him.”
“Right,” I nodded, even though my mind was full of doubt.
“He doesn’t know what you look like at this age, and he wouldn’t know that Desmond, of all people, knows you.”
He was right. There was no possible way for Malik to know who I was, what I looked like, or that Desmond knew me. I sighed with relief and heard Desmond approach us from behind.
“When I called him yesterday evening, he asked that we meet him by the abstract paintings.”
Salem and I reluctantly followed him through two glass doors and were immediately met with a gust of warm air. I inhaled deeply and let the warmth fill my lungs as I scanned the expansive room before us. There were statues of things even I couldn’t make sense of, distorted shapes that were supposed to resemble one thing or another. Voices carried through the room as if pulled through the air vents and transported from one end of the museum to the other. Some of the visitors were notably from out of country, while others were definite natives. My eyes were rapidly scanning the vicinity for any sign of the black-haired Vampire Lord from the visions my late mother had shared with me. I felt some relief at the lack of his appearance.
“This way, you two,” Desmond instructed and led us down a hall with pale blue walls adorned with nature paintings. I wanted to stop and examine one of a beautiful snowy scene, but my feet sped along behind my foster father.
My heart began racing faster with each step as we neared the abstract paintings, some of which Salem stopped to glance at brie
fly. There was a small crowd of people huddled up near a particular painting of what I thought to be a butterfly nestled on a flower, but everyone had their own opinion. I spotted a man in a dark gray trench coat buttoned up all of the way until the top two buttons, underneath which lay a pure white dress shirt and he instantly struck me as the man we had come to meet. Everyone else in the room was clad in ordinary clothing, aside from Salem and Desmond who dressed nicely for the occasion. I didn’t bother changing into anything special, I felt that a burgundy blouse and denim jeans was fit enough. Thankfully, I didn’t feel very out of place among the majority of the crowd.
“Wait here just a minute,” Desmond instructed and approached the group up ahead.
I stood warily beside Salem as we both observed the quiet conversation between Desmond and the man in the trench coat. If I had been able to retain my powers I could have easily eavesdropped, some things were going to take a long time to get used to again.
I gulped involuntarily as my foster father pointed in my direction and the mysterious figure glanced toward me and grinned. The only thing that kept me from turning around and running was the fact that this man was definitely not Malik. He had a warm, friendly face that was somewhat boyish despite having to be at least the same age as Desmond. He was slim around the waist, but even beneath the trench coat one could tell that he had large muscular arms. Despite his apparent strength, he didn’t appear intimidating at all. Wisps of light brown hair lingered over his deep honey-colored, bouncing slightly as he stepped closer to us.
“Good morning, Miss Hobbs,” he said in a welcoming, accented voice as he held out a hand.
The cool touch of his skin startled me at first, causing my mind to wander, but I ignored it—humans could have cold hands, and it was certainly chilly here in Romania. There was no evidence that this man was a vampire. I shook his hand gently and smiled. “Hello. And it’s Young now, actually. Alexis Young. My dad still hasn’t told me your name.”
“Ah,” he said and acknowledged Salem’s presence. “My name is Cassius Arith, and I do apologize for my rudeness, however…I was not expecting more than just Alexis and her father.”
“I can leave, if necessary,” Salem replied.
Cassius looked him over quickly and seemed to decide that he was welcome. “It is of no need. I assume you are the new husband, no?”
“That’s right.”
“Ah, well congratulations are in order then!”
“Thank you,” Salem and I both said in unison.
“Shall we carry on to the restaurant?”
“Why did we meet you here instead of the restaurant…if we are just heading straight there anyway?” I asked, hoping I did not sound rude.
“You wouldn’t have known where to find this specific eatery, my dear,” Cassius replied and smiled, despite the hint of annoyance I saw in his eyes. “It is for members only, and it is best that a member show you the way. After all, those…internet maps can never be trustworthy.”
My eyes followed Cassius’s every move as he led us out of the crowded museum and into the cold. Desmond didn’t seem concerned with the oddity of going from one place to another so suddenly. Perhaps he was used to members-only diners; it wouldn’t surprise me at all after all the stories he had droned on about the last few weeks.
A sleek, black limousine awaited us at the sidewalk and my mouth fell agape. I had never been in a limo before, and I couldn’t peel my eyes off of the long, magnificent vehicle. A well-groomed, suited man with a curled mustache exited the car and opened the back door. Cassius held out his hand as a means of guiding the three of us inside, and we each climbed in. He followed after us and took a seat on one of the comfortable black leather seats. I listened as the chauffeur shut the driver side door and turned on the engine.
“This is fantastic,” I breathed, inhaling the fresh scent of leather.
“I am glad you approve,” Cassius replied and rested his hands in his lap. “Desmond has told me a lot about you and your abilities.”
Abilities—I felt an awkward pang in my stomach at the mentioning of the word, until I remembered why I was here. It had nothing to do with that fact that I was a natural-born vampire hunter. Desmond didn’t know that part of my history, and this man was only interested in my life as a musician.
“Oh,” I nodded and cleared my throat. “I’m not that good, really. I haven’t played much in a while. I used to play a lot in school but…” The memory of quitting school so closely to graduation crept back into my mind. I regretted that decision, if for no other reason than it would have meant more time spent with Karen before she had passed away.
“Don’t be so modest dear, your father has already told me you were quite the musical prodigy as a child. Those gifts don’t just vanish.”
My mind raced again at the word “gift”. It was amazing how such a simple and common word now brought on all these emotions and feelings. Paul had always called my raven abilities a gift.
“I would love to hear you play sometime soon.”
My cheeks betrayed me and reddened slightly. “Thank you…I would be happy to…”
Salem sat quietly between Desmond and me, observing each of us in silence. I felt suddenly claustrophobic in the limousine and shut my eyes tightly, inhaling deeply and wishing the car would come to a full stop and I could get a breath of fresh air. I couldn’t recall any other time where I felt like this, and I had been confined in tight spaces plenty of times before. Maybe it was the fact that I was riding in the back-facing seat of the limo. Whatever was causing it, my nerves were in a huge bundled up knot and I could feel trickles of sweat seeping from my pores. Faint voices reached my ears but I could not comprehend whose they were, or if they were even real, until I felt a sudden shaking of my entire core and my eyes flew open.
“Alex?” Desmond stared at me through concerned eyes, a frown marking his tanned face. “Are you all right?”
I shrugged and glanced around, feeling a wave of dizziness overcome me. “I-I think so,” I mumbled into my hands. “Just a little car sick. Never rode facing this way before. How close are we?”
Cassius knocked on the window that concealed us from the driver. I watched it slowly ease downward and the well-groomed man was revealed. “How far, Victor?”
Victor peered back at us, noting my condition, and turned his attention back to the road. “We will arrive in less than five minutes, sir.”
“Thank you,” Cassius replied and watched the window roll back up. Without consent, he leaned over and gripped my hand reassuringly. “Victor shall have us there promptly. Until then, may I offer you a glass of iced water?”
I eyed his hand awkwardly and nodded with as much of a smile as I could manage. “Yes, please.”
Salem feigned a cough and the man in the trench coat swiftly pulled his hand back, smiled apologetically and prepared the glass of water. I gulped down the contents of the glass quickly and shivered as the icy water inched its way down my esophagus. I immediately felt better and relaxed in my seat. Without warning the vehicle began to slow down, eventually coming to a full stop.
“We are here!” Cassius said with a wide smile as the driver exited the vehicle, then immediately came and opened our doors.
As soon as I exited the vehicle and gazed upon the restaurant before me, sneaking a glimpse through the rows of well-kept shrubbery and tall gate that blocked most of it from view, I felt I was in a trance. The building itself had to be at least as old as the cathedral we had visited earlier in our trip. And despite the obvious wear to the architecture, it still held onto its ancient beauty. In comparison to the restaurants I was used to, this place might as well have been the palace of eateries. My glimpse expanded into a full view of the front of the building as Victor unlocked the thick gates and we passed under a stone arch.
The exterior walls were thick gray stones with wide, arching windows toward the top giving it somewhat an air of mystery. Had this place once been another cathedral? Or the home to someone? P
erhaps it still was. Vines twisted around the iron bars across the windows, and I was almost positive that someone was peeking out at me through a crack in the panes.
“You need not concern yourself with Frederick,” Cassius commented as he followed my stare. “He lives in the upper level of the restaurant. He’s the maintenance worker here, as well as the owner. You might say that he is a bit…edgy about newcomers. But, he without a doubt is familiar with yours truly.”
He shot a smile toward me and I felt reassured, despite the unwelcoming gaze Frederick sent in my direction. My eyes drifted away from the windows and fell back upon admiring the remainder of the building. The door arched just as the windows did, but it was much friendlier to glance at. A wobbly sign hung overheard with foreign words carved directly into the wood.
“Friedman Estates,” Cassius said as he noticed the source of my stare. “Frederick Friedman, our good friend up there. This estate used to belong to his relatives; he sort of inherited it, I guess you would say.” He then pointed behind the building, “If you notice, there are a few buildings beyond the restaurant that have since been rundown to the point of being deemed useless. The Friedman family had a lot of enemies in this town. Frederick though, he always kept to himself—a hermit, you might say. He stayed out of the conflict and once his relatives were long gone, he took over the place. There are some rumors that say he was in on it all. Secretly plotted to get rid of them so he could have the place to himself. Not sure I believe all that. He may come off as unfriendly, but once you get to know him your opinion of him will change. I can’t see him doing anything like that.”
“Why is this place for members only?” Salem asked, clearly noticing the overgrown foliage and lack of attention to the building itself. It was beautiful regardless of its state—all it needed was some care.
“That is something I cannot exactly explain just yet,” Cassius said with a mysterious gleam in his eye. “I will just say that despite Frederick’s friendly core, he is very specific on who he lets in.”