“An old friend!” a woman’s voice screeched. “That is what you call Manon? An old friend? You are no friend of mine, Monsieur!” Something crashed against the doorframe and shattered. Otto pushed Grace aside in time to avoid a china tea cup as it sailed through the door. A saucer followed along with a curse, in French, when both pieces missed their mark.
Otto peeked around the door. “Manon, my love, wait,” he called and held out his hands in surrender. Another saucer flew striking Otto in the chest. His quick hand captured it before it hit the ground and he set it carefully on the rail.
“Wait? Wait? I have waited four years. Four years! And now you come with some sweet young thing on your arm to insult me further. Go away, Monsieur. You are no longer welcome here.”
“Manon, listen to me,” Otto pleaded, “Let me explain.”
The door slammed back on its hinges. Something on the wall behind it fell to the floor in a shattering of glass as a woman sailed through to confront them. She was almost as tall as Otto and she held herself like a queen. A silken caftan outlined her body when she moved and swirled about her trim ankles in bright jeweled colors. This was not the witch-woman Grace had been expecting. With her pure white hair piled high on her head, her dark eyes snapping with fire and high cheekbones flushed with anger, this woman was stunning. She raised her hand high over her head whether to strike Otto or command ‘Off with his head!’ Grace wasn’t sure. Then Manon’s eyes widened and she lowered her hand to rest over her heart.
“Vampire,” she breathed and took a step back. Her eyes filled with sudden tears. “Non, not you Mon Cher, not you.” She took another step back and held out her hand to Grace. “Come away, ma petite, you cannot stay with him. It is not safe for one such as you.”
“I’m in no danger.” Grace smiled and tucked her arm back into Otto’s, hugging him close. “Uncle Otto wouldn’t hurt me. I’m perfectly safe and so are you. If anyone’s in danger here, I think it’s Otto.”
Now Manon eyed them both warily and took another step toward the door.
Otto stepped back from Grace while pushing her forward. “Manon, you know I wouldn’t come here if it meant putting you in danger. Step away from me, Grace. Go to Manon so that she can see you aren’t like me. Manon, touch her. Tell us what she is.”
Manon stepped up to Grace but did not touch her. She leaned in close, brought her face to Grace’s neck and took in a deep breath through her nose, never taking her eyes off Otto.
Relaxing a little, she said, “She is no vampire. Nor is she of the Race. How comes she to travel with you? Do you not thirst, Mon Cher?”
Otto laughed. “Only for a glass of wine or a cup of coffee if you haven’t broken all the cups.”
Anger flared again in her eyes. “What did you expect? Four years I have not heard from you. I thought you dead.” Her eyes began to tear again and she gave her head a small shake and motioned to the door. “Come in, come in. You must explain this to me from the beginning.”
The interior of the cottage was as lovely as the outside. A living room ran the length of the front of the house with a fireplace at one end and a staircase that Grace assumed led to a single bedroom above, at the other. The furniture was a mixture of old and older. Some, Grace was sure, were expensive antiques. All looked comfortable and inviting. Shawls were draped over some of the tables and many of those tables and bookshelves held a multiplicity of collectibles; snuff boxes on one, paperweights on another, ivory and feathered fans, play bills in foreign languages preserved under glass, and an assortment of crystal bowls each small enough to fit in the palm of your hand and each filled with a different type and texture of sand.
“Mementos of my life,” said Manon when she noticed Grace’s interest. Her smile was radiant. “The places I have been. The things I have seen. I hold them in my hand and the memories come back to me. I have had a good life.” She turned to Otto. “Until recently. Come. Sit. You must be hungry.” She motioned to a table set for three, smiled and shrugged coyly. “I saw you through the trees. After all this time, I could not believe it was you.”
Otto took Manon’s hand in his and reverently kissed her palm. “I would have come if I could,” he said quietly.
Manon blushed prettily and used her free hand to brush a lock of hair back from his forehead then let her fingers trail in a caress along his cheek and chin. One nail outlined his lips.
“You are here now,” she whispered.
Grace could feel Manon’s purr of contentment in her head. These two were lovers. And why not? Otto was a handsome man, strong and kind. Why wouldn’t a worldly beauty like Manon be attracted? Grace turned her head away. It was such a private moment. She had no right to intrude.
“Otto,” said Manon pulling slightly away and turning toward Grace, “You must introduce me to your young friend and I must apologize for my rude behavior.”
Otto bowed slightly, still holding her hand. “Manon, this is Grace of my Liege Lord’s household.”
Grace felt something flare in Manon and she stepped forward quickly, her right hand extended with what she hoped was a friendly smile on her face. She wanted to avoid another show of Manon’s temper.
Manon held her hand away, but smiled. “Forgive me, ma petite. Perhaps later we will touch, but not now.”
Otto, who had ignored the exchange continued, “Grace, my bondmate, Manon.” He smiled and winked. “My wife,” he said in translation.
“Holy shit!” Grace gasped and her hand flew to her mouth at her rudeness.
Manon laughed. “Oui, as you say, holy shit.” She pronounced it ‘sheet’ and her manner made it sound elegant. “Come Grace. The stew is done and the bread is ready to come out of the oven.”
The stew was a wonderful mix of beef, potatoes, carrots and onions cooked in a tightly covered dish and seasoned with wine and rosemary, served with a crusty bread that came, Grace knew, not from a bakery but from the cook’s own hand.
Otto polished off his second bowl, wiping up the remaining sauce with bread. He dabbed his mouth with his napkin and sat back with a satisfied sigh.
“That was delicious, Manon, delicious.” There was a hint of amazement in his voice.
Manon’s musical laugh filled the room. “I had to find a way to pass the time.” Again, the sensual shrug. “So I taught myself to cook. After three hundred years it was time, non?”
Three hundred years! In spite of the white hair, Grace had thought her a well preserved fifty-five at most. She began clearing the table to cover her surprise and Manon began to protest.
“No, no,” Grace countered sincerely, “You did the cooking. Let me do the clearing and washing up. You two have a lot of catching up and Uncle Otto has a lot more explaining to do.”
Uncle Otto gave Manon’s hand a quick squeeze and with melting eyes her protests subsided. It took two trips to clear the table and Grace was glad there wasn’t a third. She felt as if her presence was an intrusion even though the two lovers never glanced her way. Otto and Manon sat holding hands just gazing into each other’s eyes and smiling, but as soon as the door closed behind her, she could hear the murmur of their voices.
Grace understood why Otto had stayed away. His turning could have literally been the death of Manon when the thirst overcame all reasoning. During the meal, she’d learned that for all their thousands of years of existence, the Paenitentia knew very little about turning vampire. Those that turned were either killed outright or escaped to wreak havoc on the human population until they were hunted down or died from old age. Uncle Otto was one of the few exceptions to the rule. There were others, guilty family secrets that everyone knew about yet never talked about, but they, like Otto, were locked away in attics or basements and fed illegally gotten blood only when the thirst became too much to bear. In the not so distant past, those Paenitentia who could not bring themselves to end, for the second time, the lives of their loved ones would procure from the human population a ‘pet’; a captive or purchased slave that was well fed, wel
l kept, and bled regularly when the thirst raged. Otto insisted that if the practice was still carried out, the pet would not be held captive but would be well paid and unaware of the purpose of the blood drawing. Grace hoped that this was true.
She turned as the kitchen door swung open and Uncle Otto entered. He was smiling as he took her hands in his.
“I’m off. I’ll bring in your bag before I leave. Manon thinks it best if you stay here for a while and then we can decide where you want to go from there.”
“Where I want to go? I want to go home. With you. Am I being kicked out?” Grace felt a moment’s panic. In the short time she’d been there, the House had become her home.
Uncle Otto put his finger to her lips. “No, no Grace,” he said with feeling, “The choice will be yours to make. I only meant that if Manon can help you as she believes she can, you may decide on another course.” At her look of doubt he continued, “Do you trust me Grace?”
“More than anyone I know.”
“Then trust what I say and trust Manon because I trust her. Nothing will be decided for you. Stay here and learn what you can. I promise I’ll be back and I’ll take you wherever you say.
If you want to go back to the House, then that’s where you’ll go, but if you should decide on another course for your life… No now, don’t interrupt me. If you decide on another course for your life, I want you to know that I have the money to give you a start and it would be my pleasure to do so, if that’s what you choose. It’s not something you need to think about now. Right now, concentrate on yourself. Listen to Manon and learn what you can. I’ll be back in a few days and we can talk then.” He hugged her then, hard, and left without giving her a chance to argue.
Manon entered a few moments later. She kept her hands firmly folded in front of her.
“Ce pauvre petite, you look like a little lost lamb.” She smiled and beckoned Grace to follow. “Come. We will make ourselves comfortable in the parlor. You can tell me something of your life as it has been and I can tell you something of your life as it will be.”
Uncle Otto said that she should trust Manon, so when the small fire was lit and they were comfortably ensconced in the chairs to either side, Grace responded to the simple words ‘Tell me’ with the story of her life. It wasn’t a long story. There wasn’t much to tell until her meeting the twins.
Manon laughed at her description of her first week at the House and made sympathetic noises when Grace described the attacks, both Alice’s and her own. Beyond that, she never questioned or made comment until Grace sat back and said, “That’s it.”
Manon reached across and patted her jeans clad knee. “You have come through it well and I believe Otto is right when he tells me that you are stronger than you know.” She leaned back in her chair and crossed her legs beneath the flowing caftan. “Think carefully. The smallest thing may be of import. Did you ever know that something was going to happen before the event? A gift perhaps that you did not ask for but knew you were getting, an incident at school, déjà vu, that I have seen this before feeling.”
Grace almost said, “Of course, doesn’t everybody?” but she was beginning to understand that everybody doesn’t. She stared at her hands folded neatly in her lap, trying to remember and spoke in a soft flat voice.
“I dreamed of every time I was going to be moved to a new home. I would pack up my things and wait for them to come and tell me. I saw one of my foster mothers holding a new baby in a blue blanket. She slapped me when I told her, said I was a cruel little girl. She thought she was barren. Six months later she was pregnant with her own child and didn’t want me.” She told Manon of other incidents, but there were too many to recall and all of them ended badly. Grace looked up with tears in her eyes. “If I have this ability, if I could see all those things that didn’t matter, why couldn’t I see what was going to happen to Alice?”
“Perhaps you had buried your gift so deeply that it couldn’t come out. Look how long it took to see Canaan.”
Grace couldn’t help but notice the small curl of the lip when Manon said his name.
“If I can’t help the people I love then it’s no gift at all.”
Manon raised her eyebrows and gave her small shrug. “We shall see. Your gift is buried. It is not dead.” As she was speaking, Manon rose and moved toward the kitchen. “I, for one, would like a glass of wine. And you?”
While Manon was getting the wine, Grace thought about her supposed gifts. What good was seeing a future that no one would listen to and maybe Otto was right and her ‘influence’ had saved her life, but Otto was such a sweet man she couldn’t picture him killing anyone, so she wasn’t really convinced. She hadn’t known she possessed such a gift but she giggled at the possibility of unconsciously using it to get Frank to like her cooking.
Frank, her last foster father, was a good man but a fussy eater. Roast it, fry it, grill it, beef or pork, that’s the way he liked it served with a potato and a little spoon of vegetable on the side. Grace liked to cook and try new recipes. Every time she met him at the door, looked him in the eye and said something like ‘You’re going to love this casserole’, he did. But if she was too busy or simply forgot, supper was a litany of complaints. Back then, she thought that since she took the time to tell him, he knew that it was important to her and he was being kind. Now, she wasn’t so sure.
Manon returned with the wine and two glasses on a silver tray. She laughed when Grace repeated the story and said, “You see, the gifts were there all along. You used them without thinking. And you have been blessed with three gifts. Most of us only have two.”
“You can’t mean the buzzing in my head. That is no gift, believe me and what do you mean by ‘us’? Can you do these things, too?”
“All in good time. Let us finish this glass…” She held her wine in a toast. “And go for a walk. It is a beautiful night and I have a story to tell.”
Chapter 19
“I won’t have it!” Canaan raised his arms over his head and brought them down again to slam his hands on the granite countertop. The kitchen island shook with the force. “This is my House and all ideas are run through me before any decisions are made. Do you understand me? Because if you don’t, we can take it to the gym and clarify it on the mats. What were you thinking?”
Dov stepped back, anticipating his Liege Lord’s reaction. “We were thinking about Grace. She…”
“Well stop thinking about her!” Canaan roared cutting him off. He’d spent the last four nights prowling the docks thinking about nothing but Grace. Sending her to Manon was the right thing to do. She would hate him once she remembered and Manon would set her on the road to a new life. “Grace is gone and she probably won’t be coming back.” And how was he going to live without her.
It was wrong to take it out on the twins. Canaan ran his hand through his hair and blew out a breath. “What the hell does Grace have to do with some computer geek?”
“Nardo is not a geek,” said Col in a reasonable voice. “Well, maybe he is, but he’s also one of us. He’s born to be a Guardian, Canaan, and he wants to join.”
“What does this have to do with Grace?”
“Anyone want a beer?” Dov was in the pantry before anyone could answer. He returned with four bottles gripped in one hand and a bottle of Canaan’s favorite scotch, Talisker 16, in the other. He grinned. “Bought you a present while you were gone. Thought we might need it.”
Canaan raised an eyebrow at the broken seal.
“Hey, we had to make sure it hadn’t gone bad.” He placed the glass in front of Canaan and still grinning said, “It hasn’t.”
Canaan took a large swallow, felt the smoky burn and pulled up a chair. “I know I’ll probably regret this, but tell me from the beginning.”
“We went to school with Nardo’s little brother Adan,” Dov began, “Adan would always brag about Nardo. He’s a real live computer genius and he’s also from the line. He chose computers over becoming a Guardian ‘cause that’s
what he loves and let’s face it boss, the Houses haven’t exactly kept up with high tech.”
Col scowled and took over. “After Grace suggested advertising on the web, we looked him up and we’ve been chatting on the net. You know,” he said in answer to Canaan’s strange look, “talking to him on the computer. Turns out the guy writes games for a living and he’s got some stuff already worked out for a game based on the old Guardian legends. And he’s got some ideas about recruitment, too. Just talk to him, Canaan, that’s all we ask.”
“You didn’t ask anything. You set me up.”
“We figured if we asked, you’d say no ‘cause it was Grace’s idea.” Dov poured more scotch and opened another beer. “You weren’t serious before, were you, boss? She is comin’ back isn’t she?”
“I hope so, Dov, I hope so.”
*****
The night was clear and bright, but Grace was glad she’d worn a sweater. Fall was on its way. There was a chill in the air. Manon walked quietly beside her for several minutes before she spoke.
“You asked before about my gifts and I thought you would enjoy a demonstration here in my garden. Watch carefully.” She lifted her arms to the sky and slowly turned a circle.
The surrounding area was suddenly bathed in daylight. Sunshine glinted off the dewy grass and the hedge of fragrant roses popped with color. Grace gasped in astonishment and clapped with delight.
“How did you do that?”
The night surrounded them again as Manon explained. “My gift is illusion. I can make the day seem like night and the night day. I can make people see what is not there. As always, it is easier to fool humans than others. If you had looked closely enough, you would have seen through it. Let me show you again.
Out of nothing there arose a beautiful gazebo decked with hanging baskets of brightly colored flowers. A swing, hanging in the center swayed with the breeze. Grace was amazed anew, but this time she concentrated on the structure and realized she could see through it as if looking through a semitransparent screen.
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