SNAP: New Talent (The Kandesky Vampire Chronicles)

by Michele Drier

  One of them, I was pretty sure it was Denis, went into the office and I could hear lots of beeps that meant an international call. There was a rushed conversation, again in Hungarian, and he came back and said, “No.”

  I stared at him. It wasn’t in their purview to give me orders.

  “You don’t have the right to tell me no.”

  “Maybe not me, but Jean-Louis does.”

  “How did he tell you? It’s day time. He’s...”

  “He should be sleeping, but there are standing orders to wake him if it concerns you. Sandor did. He said that Jean-Louis said ‘no’. You must take at least one of us with you. I’ll go. Where are you going?”

  This was a long conversation with a demon. As usual, I was overridden. We headed for the river by way of the Place de la Resistance. There were still buildings with pockmarks from World War II street fights and each had a plaque with the Resistance Fighter’s name.

  I loved this. For the first time in months, I’d left the rarified atmosphere of the Baron and the SNAP executives and just had a chance to be an anonymous onlooker. It was an overcast fall day and the Parisians were wrapped in scarves with umbrellas handy, but the cool mist wasn’t keeping anyone inside. The streets were full of people who glanced at Denis with interest, nodded and went on. Not a lot of people strolled along the Seine with a large, powerful guy in a black suit, but they registered him as a bodyguard and left it at that.

  We crossed on the Alexander III bridge and continued to the Tuileries, where kids pushed small boats in the ponds, watched by their nannies.

  I suddenly wanted to go to Notre Dame. I’m not religious, but that huge Gothic building, girded by flying buttresses and frosted with gargoyles, was too much to miss.

  “Let’s take the Metro,” and I headed down at the Louvre station before Denis could tell me no. He followed me gamely, not wanting to create a scene. We changed at Chatelet for the line to the Ile de la Cite and Denis was less that a step away from me the entire time. I knew I was making him careful? nervous? wary? , but I was having a great time people watching and listening to French pouring over me like a waterfall.

  When the train came, Denis and I were jostled apart by a group of Gypsy women with children in tow. The women started an argument at the top of their voices, not watching the kids who ran up and down the car.

  Denis edged close to me. “This is a group of pickpockets and bag thieves. Please watch yourself,” he said in my ear.

  When we left the apartment, I’d stuffed a bunch of euros in the front pocket of my jeans, so felt impervious to trained sticky little hands, but I nodded to Denis.

  We came up at the Cite station on the edge of the flower market. I headed off to look at the stalls, now filled with fall wreaths and dried stalks, assuming that Denis would follow. When I turned to head to another stall, a large man caught me eye.

  He was a series of muscle slabs, beginning at his head which merged into his shoulders without an indication of a neck. His arms stood out from his body, his hands were huge, with hairy knuckles. He had hair pushing out of the neck and sleeves of his shirt and the only hairless place was his head, smooth-shaven.

  His mouth twisted into a grimace, then I realized he was smiling at me. I gave a quick smile back and turned the corner of the stall, only to realize that I’d come into a narrow walkway between the backs of the stalls and the wall of an old stone building. Just as I started back, he turned the corner too, smiled and snatched my arm.

  “Ah, lady, you make mistake, yes?”

  His English was heavily accented and guttural, probably from an Eastern European country. He wore a Parisian workman’s smock over his shirt and pants and smelled like garlic and cheap wine. And I was pretty sure he wasn’t going to just give me directions back to the Metro.

  As he pulled me into his chest, I managed to shout for Denis before he threw a stinking burlap bag over my head. Then I was lifted, the wind was knocked out of me and I was being carried; not too far before I was dumped onto the ancient cobblestones so hard that my head hit the pavement.

  I don’t know if I saw stars. I knew I was experiencing what law enforcement calls “altered consciousness”, usually the result of too much illegal substances. Mine was altered because I was so groggy I had no idea where I was or who I was with.

  Somebody pulled the bag off me, I sucked in a breath of clean air and started coughing. I squeezed my eyes shut and concentrated on just breathing. I could hear voices over me and they finally sorted themselves out to Denis and Michele talking to a guy with a heavy accent, but I must have still been semi-conscious because the words didn’t make any sense.

  Until I realized they were speaking a language I’d never heard before.

  I opened my eyes. I was sitting on the burlap bag, against the stone wall of a building, looking at the back of a flower stall. Hmmm, I may have been gone for a while, but I hadn’t gotten far. Above me, Denis and Michele were talking low and hard to the guy in the smock, who wasn’t saying too much back.

  Two more demons popped up. They managed to get a needle into the smock guy and when he slumped, unconscious, they poured some more wine over him and strong-armed him away to a waiting car. Denis tsked-tsked and in French, very loudly, said something about people who were drunk during the day.

  He then stood me up. “Are you going to be all right?”

  “I’m fine, now. I am so sorry, I’ve gotten you in trouble with Jean-Louis, haven’t I? I don’t know what happened. The last time I looked, you were right behind me.”

  “I was, but a swarm of those kids came through, you turned a corner and, poof. It was just enough time for the Chechen to grab you.”

  “Chechen? Why him, them, those people?”

  “We’re going to ask him. We think maybe the Russians hired him.” Denis’ voice was grim. “I’m taking you home. We have another car here.”

  “Wait, who are those other demons. They are demons, aren’t they? Where’d they come from?”

  “When I saw you’d been grabbed, I called Michele and had him get back-up. Michele got here first in one car, they came in a second one.”

  “How did they get through traffic so fast?” I’d seen the parking lot that passes for Parisian traffic first hand.

  “You were unconscious for a few minutes. And we all know shortcuts and ways to get around.”

  He at least allowed me the dignity of walking to the car idling at the curb. For the crowds of people, Parisians and tourists, who were wandering around the Ile de la Cite that day, the demons handled the whole incident so well that no one was aware of what had happened.

  “I guess my visit to Notre Dame is off. I can’t get Jean-Louis to take me, the vampires get edgy around the church.”

  “Huh,” Denis responded, not amused at my levity.

  Chapter Twelve

  I was right, Jean-Louis wasn’t happy.

  Denis (the rat) had already called him and before we got back to the apartment I had a message. My bags were packed, the car was ready, the plane would be at Orly shortly and my Parisian adventure was over.

  It was no use arguing with anyone, all of the staff here, demons as well, were just staff and followed Jean-Louis’ orders. By nightfall, I was on the way to Orly, but I gave one last shot at Francois.

  “I’m sorry Maxie,” his voice had lost most of its cheerfulness. “Jean-Louis is very angry and I have to agree with him. We had no idea how closely you were being watched. And we also didn’t know about the Chechens. I’ll see you at the castle in a few days. We’re being called to a family meeting.”

  My God, this was truly serious. Stefan and Jean-Louis didn’t call an all-family meeting often, this was only the second one I knew about.

  Chagrinned, I got on the plane and tried to have THE conversation with Jean-Louis. I failed. I knew he was royally angry, and he had every right to be. I’d talked Denis into doing something against his better judgment and now he was in the soup, because of me and with me.

&
nbsp; Denis wouldn’t be fired, you couldn’t fire a demon, but he’d be sent to some way-off-the-beaten-track post with all the time in the world to contemplate his mistake. Sort of a demon limbo where he’d stay until he could do enough good to get back his standing with the family.

  Me? Well, me, I could get fired.

  Good-bye to SNAP and my career I’d worked so hard for. And, oh my god, good-bye to Jean-Louis. I knew I couldn’t live without him, I would shrivel and die.

  By the time I got into the car for the drive to the castle, my insides were a void. I was beyond sad, beyond frightened. I’d reached numb and resigned. I was going to purgatory, a life of abject misery. I’d gambled everything for a few hours of freedom and the worst part was that I hadn’t even realized I was gambling.

  There was no use talking to the demon Sandor had sent as my escort. He was one I’d never met before, so I guessed I was so far down on the list I’d been assigned the dregs.

  When we drove up to the castle, lights were on but there was no welcoming committee. Instead, I was ushered up to my suite, where Elise silently took my bags from the demon.

  “Are you hungry? I have some soup.”

  Soup! It might as well be bread and water. Wasn’t I even going to get a last meal? “No, thank you, Elise. I don’t think I can eat. I would like a bath, though.”

  My departure from Paris had been so sudden that I hadn’t even felt the remains of my manhandling by the Chechen, but now, after planes and cars and stress and sitting, my muscles were tying themselves in knots and the lump on the back of my head was incredibly sore.

  I soaked for maybe half an hour, until I heard Jean-Louis’ voice in my sitting room. I certainly wasn’t going to talk to him from the bathroom, and not naked, so I climbed out, toweled off and threw on some clothes before I opened the door.

  He turned and looked at me. I couldn’t tell what his expression meant. His great, dark eyes were hooded, his glimmer was gone, his skin pale and drawn with two small hectic spots of color high on his cheeks. His face was furrowed with lines and wrinkles I’d never seen before. He said, “Maxie”.

  If he’d stabbed me, it wouldn’t have hurt any more that just that one word. I fainted.

  When I came to, I had pressure on my arm. Was I tied up? It resolved itself into a blood pressure cuff and I was in my bed with a doctor sitting beside me.

  “I don’t think she has serious damage,” he said to someone else in the room. “I think what we’re seeing is the remains of a concussion from when her head hit the cobblestones. We need to watch her, but I don’t think it’s serious enough to get her an MRI. Beyond the concussion, she has some bruising on her rib cage and a few scrapes. I’d guess it’s from being slung around. A couple of Vicodin and she should be fine tomorrow.”

  “Thank you.” Jean-Louis’ voice. Noncommittal. The doctor took off the cuff, packed everything away, put two pills on the bedside table and left.

  Left me with Jean-Louis.

  I looked up at him. “I’ve never fainted before.” What a great opening line!

  He shook his head, his beautiful hair falling across his dark eyes. “I don’t even know where to start.”

  “Well, do I still have a job?”

  At that, he actually smiled and a slight glimmer highlighted his face.

  “You are beyond belief. You’re attacked, injured, found by enemies we didn’t even know we had, put a hitch in our negotiations with the Huszars and the only thing you can ask about is your job?”

  “I figure you’re so mad that you’ll dump me, but at least I can manage if I still have a job.”

  “Dump you? Oh lord, woman, speak English! If you mean I’m not interested in you any more, that’s not true.”

  Well, here was a thin shaft of hope. But what kind of interest did he have? I could still be the chum the Kandeskys were using to attract the disaffected Huszars. I could still be used to start the Eastern European version of SNAP. I could still be used as a cautionary tale of how not to behave.

  His next words stunned me.

  “You persist in thinking that I have some kind of schoolboy crush on you. That my feelings for you are temporary. I’ve told you that I love you. It’s not something I planned, and I don’t know how I can make it work, but it’s not temporary or easy or light.”

  He turned toward the windows, pale with moonlight. “I’m most concerned about what may happen in a few years, as you age and I don’t. You may decide that you’re not comfortable looking older than me. And eventually, you’ll die...I won’t. I need to be prepared for that. But dump you? No, not in the cards.”

  Hmmmm. I guess I hadn’t lost Jean-Louis so that meant I’d lost my job. Giving up my heart or my soul; not a choice I was happy about.

  “Who will you get to replace me? Jazz is doing a wonderful job, but I don’t think she knows enough to tackle the expansion.”

  He whirled around and his expression frightened me. “What are you talking about?” His jaw was set and the words hissed out like venom.

  “Well, I know you’ve called a family meeting, Francois said he’d see me then. I figure the agenda is to find my replacement. I’ve endangered the family again and brought new threats.”

  “Yes, all that is true. But not unexpected, you ninny. We just didn’t expect it to happen in Paris, or this early, but now that it has, we may have to shift our plans slightly. We thought the Huszars would find some lowlifes to work for them, and they have. Because we’re looking at Ukraine and Russia, who better than traditional rabble rousers like the Chechens.”

  I wasn’t completely following his comments. I was so astonished that I couldn’t get past the facts that I wasn’t fired, that I hadn’t lost my lover. If I wasn’t going to be punished in some way, then what the hell was happening?

  My stupefied expression stopped him. “Why are you looking so dumbfounded? What did you expect?”

  Here was a question I could answer. “I expected...I expected...that you’d be so angry, that...er...hummmm...I don’t know what I expected. That you were so disgusted with me you didn’t want me around either personally or professionally.”

  “You’re stammering. That’s interesting.” His tone was clinical. “I’ve never seen you at a loss for words. I guess this little fiasco made an impression.”

  Okay, the gloves were off. “Little fiasco? I try to have a normal few hours, even taking a demon with me, get abducted, pummeled on, slung around like a feed sack, end up with a concussion, hustled out of Paris like a crook, greeted like a paroled prisoner...”

  He was actually grinning. “I was pretty sure that would get a rise out of you! I don’t like seeing you acting like a whipped dog. Now, do you want to discuss this like two intelligent adults?”

  A few minutes ago, I was devastated, thinking that Jean-Louis might want me out of his life. Now I was so pissed that I felt like walking. “You are impossible. I never met anyone so hard to understand and figure out. Why did I get such a chilly reception when I got here? And Elise? Offering me soup? It might as well have been bread and water, the message was so clear. And you! Where were you?”

  “Oooh, I love it when your blood is up.” He snickered at his bad pun. “Not that I owe you any explanations, but we were in the village, meeting with some of the rest of the family. If we can’t get Karoly and his followers set up to take on Matthais, the villagers, and that part of the family, will be the first causalities. They need to understand what we’re doing and agree to the next steps. We couldn’t just cancel to handle your little to-do and sudden arrival from Paris.

  “And don’t for a minute think that Huszar hangers-on weren’t watching. If we’d rushed back to take care of you, Matthais would think that the Chechen attack had a big impression on us and he’d up the tension.”

  “You people,” I was almost hissing myself, now. “You people are just like onions! You peel off layers and underneath, there are more layers! It’s like trying to find my way through a house of mirrors! Nothing is wh
at it seems.”

  “Ah, and how do you think we’ve survived and prospered for centuries? Everyone talks about Byzantine politics. Who do you think we learned from?”

  There it was again. I was up against four or five centuries of experience in developing trade and business agreements, in making pacts with various enemies and forging and undoing alliances. And not just the vampires. They’d been around to watch and learn for 500 years of European countries slaughtering each other. No wonder they didn’t take people into their confidence easily.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Now that I knew I wasn’t going to lose either my job or Jean-Louis, I relaxed enough that the pain pills kicked in.

  “Stay with me love, I think I’m going to collapse” I managed to get out before my head hit the pillow. The next I knew, Elise was hovering in the doorway.

  “What’s the matter?”

  “Hello, Maxie, I didn’t want to disturb you. Jazz has been calling.”

  “How long have I been out?”

  “Almost twelve hours, it’s afternoon.”

  My ribs and head tried to resist when I sat up and slid out of bed, but the only way to get through the pain was to get active, so I asked Elise for coffee and headed to the bathroom. A hot shower helped some, Elise’s coffee helped more and in a few minutes I was talking to Jazz. It was awkward with the time difference, but she’d stayed up waiting for my call.

  “Oh-my-god, Maxie, I’m so glad to hear your voice.” Jazz’ SoCal breathless speech pattern felt homey and comfortable. “I kept getting these weird, cryptic e-mails and messages that something happened to you in Paris. Some people thought you were dead, or you’d been kidnapped. I even had another show call and ask me if I been tapped to replace you! It’s been a zoo around here!”

  “Hah, the rumors of my death! I’m here and OK.”

  “Tell, tell, what happened?”

  “You know the Kandeskys and Jean-Louis, they must have been the models for the Official Secrets Act or the CIA. Getting a straight answer out of them is, well, it’s just not gonna happen. The gist of it is that I went off, with Denis in tow, to spend a couple of hours just looking. I wanted to go to Notre Dame, and that’s not high on the vampire tour list. I guess the Huszars hooked up with some of the Chechen thugs and I was, am, being watched. It only took a few seconds for me to get separated from Denis and, wham, I’d been grabbed.”