New Title 3

by H. T. Night

  “We are not usually like this, and Racco had planned for a leisurely afternoon out here in this beautiful bay. However, a phone call this morning changed those plans,” he advised, motioning for the girls to follow him to the room where the caskets were stored. “He wanted you to sleep undisturbed, but now we are in a rush, since it will still take a few hours to arrive at the chateau. Racco said we must be there before darkness returns. So, be sure to take only the things you cannot live without.”

  Mercel’s beautiful blue eyes turned slightly darker, adding emphasis to his update.

  “Okay,” I agreed, shrugging my shoulders and heading into my room. “Do I need to grab anything from the bathroom, like the shampoo, facial scrub, and soap?”

  “Just the makeup, since there is plenty of soap and shampoo at the chateau,” he advised, before darting into the room where the girls had already disappeared. “Not that you need make-up, but a woman likes to always look her very best, yes?”

  “I guess,” I replied, shooting him a smile I hoped told him I appreciated his compliment. “I’ll see you in a minute.”

  ***

  Apparently the caskets were already set up on rollers. I hadn’t noticed that fact the previous afternoon. Then again, it was hard to notice much else when the sexiest ‘old’ man the world has ever known stood just inches behind me.

  Within fifteen minutes of the hustle and bustle, Racco’s crew had gathered up everything we needed for our trip into the mountains. The caskets were all lined up in the hallway outside my cabin, while the mere mortals and their immortal human captain reconvened upstairs. Even the table laden with food had already been cleared and cleaned, though I admit I entertained an image of Racco’s servants shoving everything inside the kitchen during the rush.

  “Once we reach the dock, we will need to stay organized,” Racco advised his staff and me, while the ship coasted to the shoreline. “The trucks will be there, and each of you will stay with our friends during their rest. It remains imperative that they are not disturbed during transport. Any questions?”

  The others all shook their heads ‘no’, to which he smiled and nodded approvingly.

  “Where will I ride—do you need me to watch over a casket too?” I asked, more out of politeness since it wasn’t something I had any desire for.

  “No, Txema,” he said, turning to face me as I stepped up to him. His eyes seemed more penetrating than before, his interest keen. Or was it lust? “You and I will ride in a limousine and the others will follow.”

  “Sounds good,” I said. No qualms there. Ancient or not, the close traveling proximity of a beautiful man will never be declined by yours truly.

  In a matter of twenty minutes everything was loaded up inside a pair of semi-trucks, and Racco and I sat in the back of the lead vehicle, a stretch Mercedes. The temperature hovered in the low sixties, or between 27 and 29 degrees Celsius, according to Racco. A refreshing change from the sub-freezing temperatures I recently endured in Knoxville and the mid-Atlantic.

  By 1:30 p.m., Central European time, we made it past the heaviest congestion in Perpignan, city streets much older than any I had ever seen before and where many of the buildings dated from the fourteenth century, and some even older. Racco served as my tour guide in our relative privacy, where the driver only glanced occasionally at us—mostly on account of my companion’s boisterous laughter.

  Once we left the city limits of Perpignan, we traveled through several more towns while navigating through the Pyrenees’s foothills. I was surprised by the stronger prevalence of Spanish architecture as compared to French, although Racco explained how for centuries the borders between Spain and France were not clearly defined as they are now. Instead, ancient kingdoms in either country warred against one another, and subsequent victories or losses defined the ‘turf-layouts’ throughout the Pyrenees.

  “We will be veering onto a seldom used highway that will take us up to the castle,” he advised, just before three o’clock. “It shouldn’t take much longer to get there, and it does appear that we will meet Gustav’s mandate to be there before the onset of dusk.”

  Just ahead of us on the right side of the road stood an iron gate within a marble wall that seemed to stretch well into the surrounding forest on either side. The wall’s visible gray blocks were tightly fitted, and streams of rust covered each one. Very old. The limo pulled up to the gate, and once the driver called in a code to his dispatcher, the gate opened. All three vehicles moved through the entrance and onto a gravel road. For a moment I worried about the steady speed that didn’t change when the incline suddenly rose steeply. A cloud of dust obscured my view of the trucks behind us.

  “Do not be alarmed, my chere,” said Racco, his husky voice making me want to curl up next to his shoulder. But the driver’s eyes were drawn to us from within the rearview mirror. “Within thirty minutes we shall reach my home. You are now moving through an area of the Pyrenees rarely seen by mortals—other than those in my employment, of course.”

  He flashed a mischievous smile, and then motioned to the stunning view outside the limousine on either side. I had never seen anything quite this pristine before—not even the breathtaking mountain views in Gatlinburg, Tennessee or the glistening snowcapped peaks in Vail, Colorado that I witnessed at Christmas three years ago. Granted, these hills could never compete with America’s Rocky Mountains. But it was obvious that nothing had ever been disturbed in this wilderness by mankind—other than the road we traveled on.

  As the incline increased, so did the drop off on either side. I tried to focus on the view that stretched for miles around us, especially the bluish peaks in the distance that were covered by a blanket of snow in the highest elevations. Still, it was nearly impossible to not occasionally look down. Several hundred feet soon became more than a thousand. Even though I’m a roller-coaster junkie, I started to feel sick.

  “Do you honestly think the lords who rule the vampire world would allow something bad happen to you?” Racco laughed again, after watching me flinch. It was hard not to feel sheepish for being so fearful. “If only you knew the scope of sacrifice these creatures will make to ensure their way of life continues unhindered. You are their golden egg, Txema, and as their only trusted confidant in the daylight hours, neither I nor those who serve me will let any harm come to you!”

  “So what’s it like to never grow old?”

  I needed something to move off the subject of ‘me’. Besides, the existence of an immortal living human as opposed to an undead one seemed incredibly interesting. I imagine that’s the case for most of us.

  “I heard them tell you the other night how lonely it can be,” he said, the mirthful expression fading into one of grave seriousness. “Truthfully, it is that…. It is that and often a burden—one where I have sometimes asked myself if it is wiser to move to the other side and be reunited with loved ones gone for centuries. Or, does it merit one to live as long as they can and experience brand new delights the world has yet to offer? After all, if life is eternal in one form or another, then I can always reunite with those dearest to me at any time. So why rush?”

  And just like that, the impishness was back in his countenance.

  I nodded thoughtfully in response. When an awkward silence followed, I turned my attention to the incredible view again, thinking of eternity without my loved ones while gazing down into the deepening chasm below us.

  Thankfully, the road’s grade eventually evened out, and we moved through a forest thick with tall evergreens. This lasted for a few miles, until suddenly a massive stone turret appeared along the tree-line.

  “Oh my God!” I whispered, once the large granite structure came into view.

  It was enormous, with several spires within the middle of the structure jutting toward the sky. Much of the castle looked like it had been built around the time of the French Revolution, resembling the classic chateau style from that period. However, the spires and turrets looked much older. An array of dormant gardens su
rrounded the castle, and it came complete with a moat and drawbridge, although at present the moat was dry.

  A beautiful site, yet at the same time foreboding.

  “The castle was originally given to me as a gift, after it was abandoned during the Moor occupation during the beginning of the eighth century A.D.,” said Racco, after we crossed the drawbridge, obviously noting my fascination with his fabulous home. “It has undergone several updates to its design, with the major restorations taking place in 1792 and 1946, both times from damage sustained from war. If the Nazis had won the most recent conflict, Hitler’s obnoxious red and black banners might be hanging from the walls instead of the ‘fleur de lis’ you see before you.”

  White and purple banners with gold fringe and tassels hung along both sides to the main entrance, with the most famed symbol of France aside from the Eifel Tower prominently displayed in the middle of each. As we pulled up to the entrance, a dozen servants from inside the castle came outside to greet us, with most of them moving to the two trucks. It surprised me that we were all quickly ushered inside the building, as if all of us were vampires who might explode into flames from the fading sunlight at any moment.

  Once inside, this secret service-like urgency lessened, although I watched a few of Racco’s assistants stay near the windows, where they cautiously surveyed the front grounds to this estate. It was like they were expecting someone to follow us, and I noticed that two of them carried pistols.

  I was about to ask if the security extremes were really necessary in such a remote locale, but then I looked around me. The majesty of the castle’s exterior was more than matched by the opulence inside. At the moment we stood within a grand corridor that seemed to stretch for much of the castle’s length. Where it ended was too far to make out from where we stood. Two marble staircases veered upward on either side of the corridor, and amazing frescos covered much of the walls and the entire ceiling. I could tell by the artistry that a master of some sort—or masters, given the castle’s age—had created them. Such detail I could easily discern, and the ceiling rose at least fifty feet above us. All of this artwork was framed within solid oak beams bearing carved images and gold inlays.

  A colorful carpet runner featuring the same fleur de lis symbolism covered the marble floor. Even the furnishings were luxurious, although seemingly out of date, as it seemed most of the couches and chairs in the sitting areas alongside the corridor hadn’t been updated since the 1946 date mentioned by Racco. But at least the large LCD screens in two of these areas pointed to a step into the twenty-first century.

  “It will take a week or two for you to become familiar with these new surroundings,” Racco advised, placing his arm around my waist as he escorted me toward the staircase to our left. “Some of the staff still gets lost from time to time.”

  He chuckled, drawing closer to where the rich aroma of his expensive cologne embraced my nose. I was already intoxicated by the scent and thought earlier it would smell great on most men. But mixed with his unusual body chemistry heightened the experience. I could have eaten him alive.

  “In a moment, Julianne will show you to your room upstairs,” he continued, grinning as if he could read my most recent lustful notion. Holding me in his gaze, he motioned to a pretty brunette waiting for me on the landing above the stairs. Thirty-ish, she seemed more in line with what Racco’s apparent physical age would merit, and I felt a pang of jealousy. “In a few minutes it will be four o’clock. We will reconvene in the dining room at six. Julianne again will escort you there, and your clothing for the evening has already been arranged, waiting now for you in your room. Tonight’s celebration should be quite an event, and Gustav has told me personally how he can hardly wait to meet you!”

  Before I could respond, he kissed my forehead and left me at the foot of the stairs. I lingered long enough to watch him disappear from view as he returned to the main path of the corridor. By then, Julianne had come downstairs to meet me.

  “Redresser cette façon, s’il vous plait.”

  “Sur.”

  One of the few French phrases I understood, I ignored her smirk and gave Julianne my arm, as she requested. She then led me upstairs to my room. Along the way I wondered if she spoke English like the others under Racco’s employment, but I decided not to ask. Officially at my hosts’ mercy and realistically stranded in a remote castle far away from everyone I’ve ever cared about, it didn’t seem like a good idea. It made me miss those who truly loved me even more…and especially those who knew me well enough to not play games with my intelligence.

  Chapter 16

  My bedchamber in the castle would be considered a coliseum in comparison to my accommodations at Massey Hall. A huge king-size bed, full media center, armoire full of designer fashions, and a real Jacuzzi tub and waterfall shower in the bathroom. Not to mention the bedroom portion of my suite was big enough to cause an echo from my voice. I know, because I tried it.

  I thought having a couple of hours to relax and get used to my new surroundings would mean plenty of time. But the media center proved far too distracting to play with for just an hour. The next thing I knew, I had roughly 20 minutes to get ready for the night’s dinner party.

  I was still putting on the last touches of my makeup when Julianne arrived to escort me back to the main level. She had changed into a beautiful lavender sequined evening gown that accentuated her modest curves. Relieved to see her dressed like this, it made me feel less self-conscious in the Versace burgundy gown of similar style and fit that Racco’s people had left on my bed for me, along with a matching pair of Manolo Blahniks for my feet. Too bad there were hardly any warm-blooded males in attendance that night, as only vampires seemed to notice our ravishing attire.

  After another brief conversation in French she led me downstairs, where a fairly long jaunt to the deepest regions of the castle brought us to the dining hall. I should’ve guessed it would be even more ostentatious, since it obviously was where the castle’s undead inhabitants liked to hang out. There was enough gold leaf and stained glass windows to easily compare to the finest buildings of King Louis’ superfluous kingdom long ago.

  Vampires were everywhere, roughly sixty by my count. Everyone of them unique in their eccentricity of style and clothing, they were also uniformly beautiful—like male and female fashion models that had never seen the light of day. They flitted about between a long, heavy-oak table in the room’s center and huge gold vats nearby. No one had to tell me what was stored inside the vats, or within a large crimson crystal punch bowl in the table’s center that they crowded around.

  “Welcome Txema Ybarra!” shouted an especially pale man sitting on a glistening jeweled throne at the end of the table. His skin was almost alabaster, emitting a soft glow under a massive crystal chandelier that hung above the table. “Welcome indeed to ‘Le château de douleur’!!”

  The man appeared roughly the same age as Racco, and he suddenly rose into the air and drifted toward me—roughly a hundred feet from where I stood. Dressed in a long white robe bearing unusual symbols etched in red and gold, he donned a very tall matching hat that reminded me of what a Pope would wear. He seemed to glide just above the floor, his robe lightly touching the marble squares. As he drew closer, this one’s ethereal glow and longer incisors clearly announced him as the leader amongst the others. That, and the fact the other vampires deferred to his presence, some even bowing as he passed by on his way to where I stood.

  “Txema…I have long awaited this moment!” he enthused. His voice mellower than any of the others, he smiled, revealing two smaller fangs next to the more prominent incisors. “I am Gustav Domnul-delael—presently the reigning king of Europe’s civilized vampires.”

  I tried not to think long on his silly attire, afraid to laugh. He seemed more unreal than any of the others and therefore much more dangerous, like he could obliterate my entire existence with just a thought. Even when he took my hand, he did so gently, and I could tell his fingers alone could crush
mine into dust. Maybe that’s what living for several thousand years will do to you.

  His eyes were a mixture of blue and gold—hard to define in a continuous flux of color as they glowed preternaturally. Much more intense than any of the other vampires too.

  “This is quite a place you’ve got here,” I told him, unsure what to say to such a person.

  I mean, king of the undead, and apart from that fact scary as hell? I could tell the former human was once quite a looker in his day, with a sleek nose and high cheekbones. Perhaps Gustav would still be considered comely…in a ‘Friday the Thirteenth’ sort of way. Think about it, dear reader, do you know someone with kaleidoscope eyes and skin whiter than snow? Other than in an old Beatles cartoon? I think not…hopefully not, anyway.

  “Yes-s-s…it certainly is,” he said, studying me as if trying to piece together the rampant thoughts colliding in my head.

  His French accent was barely discernible, and only in certain English words. There was another accent, too, harder to define since camouflaged beneath the French. Perhaps it was much older, and disguised on purpose.

  “You must be hungry. As you can see, we have included a unique variety of entrees tonight,” he said, motioning to the table filled with far more delectable items than was present on Racco’s yacht. “Some is what Armando told us you like, and other offerings might take some time to acquire an appreciative taste. I believe that you, Txema, are an adventurous girl who might be game for something…something ‘different’ this evening.”

  The way he said this last part sent a chill up my spine—far worse than the vampire’s close proximity to my body. Hell, with so many of them gathered in one room, I wished to God I brought a jacket to keep me warm, despite roaring fires burning in the two fireplaces on either side of the room.