Michel sat there looking at me, almost as still as a vampire could be. But he was in public, so I could still see his chest rise, the pulse at the base of his neck move. He was keeping up pretences even when he didn't want to. Finally he moved to sip his champagne.
“I am sorry, Lucinda, but that is not possible.” Before I could even voice my many objections to that statement, he went on. “I am what I am. The urge, the desire, to look after you, is deep within me. Please understand, this is unusual for me too. I am... not used to this kind of emotion. I am afraid, I do not quite know how to behave.”
He actually looked abashed. Go figure. I shook my head slightly to clear the image from my mind. What was he saying? Could he not help feeling this way, was it really not a game he was playing? Part of me and I admit, it was a very loud, very noisy part, wanted to believe that. But I am a vampire hunter by birth and I still couldn't find a way to completely trust this man in front of me.
“You could try to resist, Michel.”
He simply looked at me, no emotion at all. Not a word. Not a blink.
OK, so that wasn't an option. But... “We can't continue like this. I will begin to resent you.” Hell, I was borderline resenting him now, but I knew if this continued, this constant interference, constant checking up on me, I would begin to despise him. And really, if I was truthful with myself, he was too big a part of my life to let that happen.
Finally he breathed and reached for his champagne glass. My meal arrived at that point, smelling and looking delicious, so he didn't say anything straight away, but once the waiter had left and I had started tasting bits and pieces off my picture perfect plate, he said, “It will get easier, my dear.”
I swallowed a mouthful of succulent fish. “What do you mean?”
He leaned forward. “If we were to join, the emotion, although remaining within me, will be more easier to control.”
“How so?”
“Well, you will then be mine of course.”
“Is that suppose to clarify things for me?”
He sighed and looked decidedly grumpy, as if this should all be abundantly clear to me already. “At the moment, you are only mine by desire, not by fact.” He looked as though he really, really, did not want to disclose that little bit of information.
Oh, I got it. All that you are mine, Lucinda crap was just him wishing for it to be so.
He spoke unexpectedly then, as though he might as well keep going now that he'd admitted his deepest, darkest secret. His voice was low, so no one but I could hear. It surrounded me and bathed me in its warmth. “The alliance our races formed so long ago, provided for this urge to protect one's kindred Nosferatin prior to their maturity. It intensifies the closer your 25 birthday comes. It is a fail-safe, you could say. Designed to bring us together. Together, is how we are meant to be. That is why, of course, your death on failing to join with a vampyre is also necessary. There is a chance that you would not choose to do so otherwise.” He looked at me ruefully then.
Well that made sense. “But, why do we have to join?”
“And there in lies the rub, my dear. We may have parted ways all those many centuries ago, but we were once kin. The power that resides inside us comes from both of us. Separate, our powers weaken, together it re-establishes the true bond. Vampyre have been losing their powers for some time now, we have felt it, we knew it was inevitable, but your kind had disappeared. Abandoned the alliance, chosen to forgo their powers and their life, for their peace.”
That was so sad, I felt my heart break at what my ancestors had chosen to do. The enormity of their decision astounded me. I suddenly lost all appetite for the sumptuous meal in front of me. How could I eat when my people had chosen death for their first born?
“Do you not feel your power increasing when around me, my dear?”
Huh. I had noticed that from the moment I saw Michel in the bank, I became stronger and quicker, not vampire quick of course, but definitely faster than I had ever been on the farm. And recently, that had intensified two-fold. Hadn't Rick mentioned how much stronger and faster I was in the ring after spending five days with Michel?
“We are meant to be together, Lucinda. Can you not feel it too?”
And you see, even though there was this enormous part of me that knew just how bad and evil and wrong vampires are, there was also a part of me that wanted with every being of my soul to make them better. If it couldn't be by culling those beyond reproach, then it was by standing by them and trying to influence them toward the light. Heck my name even meant Light.
All my battles with Michel had been over his vampire ways and my insistence that he could do better. I saw the good in Michel, but it was also laced with bad, however I knew beyond a doubt that he could fight that side of him given the chance. Was I the chance he needed? Did I even want to be?
I chose to not answer his question, it felt a little rhetorical anyway. Instead I asked, “Is that why Max and his cohorts are trying so desperately to get me and my kind? Their powers are diminishing?”
“That is exactly why, my dear. The older the vampyre, the more powerful; the more powerful, the more they have to lose. Maximilian and those like him, are too powerful for their own good.”
“Why were you able to beat him the other day?” I think I already knew the answer, but I wanted to hear him say it.
“I did not beat him, merely stalled for more time.” For some reason his use of the word stall triggered a memory in me, but I pushed it aside as he continued. “But I understand your meaning. My strength has been increasing, the more time I spend with you. It will reach its full potential when” - seeing the look of questioning on my face, he amended what he was about to say - “if, we join.”
“Is that why you're spending time with me now?” I said it evenly, but it wasn't at all what I was feeling inside. Doubt. Confusion, a little more than usual. Despair.
He leaned forward and took my hand, rubbing the back of it with his thumb as he always does. I didn't feel any power roll off him, but I felt that familiar sense of tingling and warmth, gradually making its way up my arm and down my body. How did he have such an effect over me?
“Not at all, ma douce.” Maybe it was the French accent which crept in, the use of his intimate pet name for me, the name he only ever used in my dreams until recently, or maybe it was just my deep seated longing for it to be so, that allowed me to believe him.
The waiter came at that point and removed my plate, Michel did not release his hold on my hand, but continued to stroke it softly. I couldn't face a dessert, all that sweetness when we were talking about such depths of horror that my world now contained. But, the night was still young and there was much to be achieved if we planned to face Max prepared in two day's time. And let's face it, I was not going to go willingly as he had requested.
Coffee, the perfect solution. I have never seen Michel drink coffee, only various types of wine. As a liquid, I understood that he could, I just thought perhaps he didn't like its taste, but he ordered one now, whether to keep me company, I didn't know, but I kind of liked it. Coffee is my elixir, all should enjoy it.
Of course his selection was a long black, the traditional coffee choice for connoisseurs. Hell, for all I knew he probably was there when they discovered coffee beans in the forests of Ethiopia or some such place way back when.
When the coffee came, he didn't pop sugar in, just sipped it delicately, as is. Me? I opted for sweetener and stirred my frothy milk with abandon.
“So, my dear. What did our little friend want with you at the station?"
Ah, the true meaning behind our dinner date perhaps? He obviously hadn't been close enough to hear what old deadbeat had delivered, he was curious. Understandable.
I gave him a quick recap of the message and threat. Comply and go with Max willingly, or watch as he used ghouls to feast on my city.
You see, ghouls do feast. They're meat eaters, actually they could be called carnivores as it's all they eat, but ghouls pre
fer their meat as close to living as possible. Of course they have feasted on human flesh on many occasion in the past, but in today's world they usually behave themselves. The odd one might break into a morgue or such, but that's about as close as it gets. It doesn't stop them from pretending though and every now and then a ghoul will scare a human, but the thing is, on the whole they're a lot like you and me. They have jobs, communities. Hell, I've even had a ghoul taxi driver on the odd evening. When out and about, they tend to explain their dining preference as being on The Atkins Diet, most people just go with the flow.
But the real problem is, ghouls can be called by a vampire to do its bidding. They don't like it of course, but they have little choice in the matter. The fact that Max had threatened to use ghouls was a real concern.
Auckland has a thriving ghoul population, well thriving in the sense that there's at least fifty or more. That's a lot for ghouls and even though it doesn't sound so intimidating, 50 ghouls could do a lot of damage in one night. They can be lethal.
Of course, I wasn't expecting Michel's response to this threat, I should have, but I'd lowered my guard, yet again. Stupid.
“Two can play at that game,” he mused, a calculated look stealing over his features.
“Oh no you don't, Michel! You cannot use ghouls to do your bidding.” My voice must have risen, because I suddenly felt Sanguis Vitam electrifying the air around me, blocking any of what I said from those nearest our table. It hadn't really hurt, but it did feel like a slap in the face. On more than one level.
“Perhaps, we should continue this conversation elsewhere.” He rose and came to offer his hand.
I stared at it for a moment, refusing to give in to the blush that was threatening my cheeks and then simply ignored the offered hand and walked past him to the exit of the restaurant and into the night.
Chapter 11
Guts and Glory
A few minutes later he came through the front door and joined me on the sidewalk. I glared at him. He didn't apologise, I hadn't expected him to, hoped for, but not expected. He offered me his arm and said, “Shall we walk?”
It wasn't really a request, but I gave him a good hard look before admitting we still had more to discuss. Pushing my anger and humiliation aside, I carefully laced my arm in his.
He felt hard and strong against my forearm, he pulled me a little closer, so we were shoulder to shoulder. I could feel the warmth of his body along the full length of mine. His hand stroked the back of mine as it was laced through his arm, his entire presence so near sent shockwaves down my side. I don't think I had ever voluntarily been this close to Michel before for any extended period of time. I fought the thought that it felt so good so hard, but I don't think I was winning.
We walked past all the crowds of people milling around the waterfront bars, past the upmarket stores and on down towards the ferry terminal and its ornately moulded concrete building.
Downtown was busy, as it usually is this time of night on a Friday. People laughing and shouting, walking arm and arm like we were. We blended in so well. No one would have suspected we weren't human. Had I actually just thought that?
We crossed the road at the intersection and headed up Queen Street, passing souvenir shops, late night fast food joints and closed businesses and banks on the way. Finally Michel spoke. “He will use our own ghouls against us, as well as those he brings to our shore. We can not allow that, my dear.”
I knew what Michel was saying, but I still had to believe there was another way to combat Max. Lowering ourselves to his level was unacceptable. Michel being the vampire that he is, could not see that. I had to make him understand. The only way I could think that that may ever happen, was to make him meet a ghoul in person.
You see, vampires may be able to control ghouls to do their bidding, but they have absolutely nothing to do with them ordinarily. They actually shy away from them and pretend they don't even exist. Sure they set rules in their master owned cities for all supernaturals, including of course ghouls, to adhere to, but they don't choose to get to know them. They consider them like dirt on the bottom of their shoes most of the time and when needed, just a means to an end.
Ghouls, on the other hand, detest vampires with a bitter hatred. They welcome the anonymity the vampires give them and cherish the fact that most of the time they don't even register on a vampire's radar. I don't blame them, who would like the thought of a vampire having that sort of control over your actions and life should he choose. A bit like how I was feeling right now, so I could relate to their cause.
“I think you need to meet someone,” I finally answered.
He turned his head slightly toward me and raised his eyebrows in a questioning manner. Me suggesting that he should meet someone had been unexpected, I think. I'd like to believe I could do that from time to time - surprise him.
“I have a friend who might be able to help us, but you have to promise to be on your best behaviour, Michel. And I mean: Absolute. Best. Behaviour. Got it?”
He seemed intrigued at that, a small smile curving those full red lips, a little glint in his eyes, different shades of blue swirling in their depths.
“Of course, my dear, of course. Anything you say.”
Why was I beginning to believe he was playing with me again?
Pete is one of my contacts. A vampire hunter has to have their ear to the ground occasionally, just to keep tabs on what's happening, or potentially could be happening, in their city. Pete is my man. He's a ghoul, of course, and ghouls are particularly good at finding information. If they don't know what you're after, then they'll find out for you. Period. They have a reputation to uphold after all. But, their currency isn't cash. If you want info from a ghoul, you have to provide info back in return. And they'll only offer up info that warrants the level of info, you have given them too. They like to consider themselves the gateway to knowledge in any given place. Pete was the head honcho of knowledge in Auckland City.
He runs a sports bar in Newmarket, just off Broadway, behind all the trendy fashion shops. It's called Guts and Glory. The Norms don't get the joke, but I kind of like it. Poetic, don't you think? He keeps it crisp and clean, who would have thought a ghoul with a hunger for raw meat would like a clean floor in his bar, but he does. Glasses sparkle, coasters abound. You don't want to start a food fight here. It would cost you an arm and a leg, literally. I don't think he'd have anything remotely like the champagne we just had with dinner, it's beer or beer all the way. If he really likes you, he'll spot you a pack of peanuts on the side.
The big flat screen plasma TV was playing a re-run of an All Blacks rugby game when we walked in. I couldn't tell who they were playing. Australia? South Africa? I always get those two mixed up. A few people were watching it, but most were just enjoying each other's company and ignoring the commentator altogether. The volume wasn't loud, just enough for those hardcore rugby fans at the front to be able to hear over the conversations throughout the pub.
Pete was in his element, behind the bar, cleaning glasses with a fluffy white cloth as he talked to a couple of guys at the counter. Ghouls. There were about six of them here throughout the room, all visibly stiffening when we entered. I was going to have to win Pete over quickly with my unexpected companion in tow.
“Luce. Long time no see. I see you brought a guest.”
Pete doesn't beat about the bush. Ghouls are straight forward, no bull kind of guys. I guess that's why I like them. None of this innuendo crap and complicated games that I constantly get with the vamps.
He'd stopped cleaning and put both the fluffy white cloth and tall schooner glass down behind the counter, both his hands were resting on the counter top, balled in fists. OK.
“Hey, Pete. Good to see ya. Can I have my usual?”
“You can. Not him. I wont serve his kind in my bar.”
“You do not have what I desire, ghoul,” Michel practically growled.
I sighed, this was going to be tougher than I thought.
> “Sit down, Michel,” I said tugging him into the bar seat beside me. I was surprised he let me do it, so was Pete by the look on his face. Maybe Michel was trying to stick to his promise to be good after all.
“Pete, I guess you know Michel?”
Just a nod. Short, to the point. That's my boy.
“Michel, this is Pete. He runs the place and has his ear to the ground.”
Michel slowly inclined his head, his eyes a slight purple colour in amongst the blue. Great.
The formalities over, Pete filled the schooner glass he had just been cleaning with some draught beer and pushed it across the bar top toward me. I like my lager pale. I took a sip quickly to calm my nerves.
Although ghouls are particularly straight-forward creatures, it's best not to rush into things too quickly with them. They like to banter a bit, although I was picking Pete would be happy to forgo that ritual if it meant Michel would leave sooner. A vampire in his bar was probably not good for ghoul business.
“So, heard anything handy lately?”
He picked up another glass and started cleaning, never moving his eyes off Michel. “Things are heating up, but I'd guess you'd be aware of that, wouldn't you, Luce.”
“What kind of things, Pete?”
“Now come on, Luce, you know the deal. Scratch my back and I'll scratch yours.”
Michel growled at that, low enough that only the three of us could hear over the noise in the bar. I put a hand on his sleeve to calm him, he immediately took hold of it with his other and started softly rubbing the back of it lightly with his thumb. Pete paused in his cleaning duty and stared at the motion. I fought a blush. Men.
Carefully removing my hand from Michel, who now wore a slight smirk, I used it to play with the condensation on the side of my schooner of beer as though it was the most important thing right then. Better to look busy, I guess.
Kindred (Kindred, Book 1) Page 11
