by Aiden James
“Do not fret for him,” whispered Chanson, who cast a knowing glance across the table at her female companions. “He has us, and we have him. Who better to share meaningful friendships with, than someone who will be here at the turn of the next century?”
I guess. I suppose they’ll be talking about me in the past tense, if the subject of my present circumstances comes up for discussion at that time.
“Besides, he is too old for you,” added Garvan. He nodded to Racco, who returned his gesture with a reticent version of the same.
“We are all too old for her,” said Raquel, coolly, her comment’s iciness enough to draw Garvan’s ire. I heard a slight hiss escape his mouth as he bore his fangs at her. She responded in kind,
“Children, please!” Nora stood up, alternating her serious expression between them both. “Let’s be pleasant. Find something positive to talk about…you know the rules.”
They both nodded sullenly, which gave me a moment to ask Chanson about something that had bothered me since Garvan and I joined everyone that night.
“Where are Armando and Franz? Will they be joining us later tonight?”
“They are still in Tennessee, tying up some loose ends,” she said. “They will rejoin us shortly after we dock in Perpignan, near the southern Pyrenees Mountains. That is the current plan.”
I wanted to ask what they were still doing in Tennessee, but the question would obligate me to find out more specifics about Peter, Tyreen, and Johnny’s fates. Yes, all very important details to know…. But, with the increasing likelihood it might be awhile before I returned home, I preferred to call someone myself and get the real scoop and not some mixture of truth and deceit.
Instead, I broached another question for the time being…one that had been on my mind since my introduction to Nora.
“Who is this King Gustav you mentioned?”
“The oldest civilized vampire,” said Chanson, to which the others nodded supportively. “Or, I should say the oldest living civilized vampire.”
“Is he as old as Racco?” I asked, seeking a comparative reference point.
“Older,” Racco replied, drawing our eyes to him. He wore a smug grin of satisfaction, likely irritated that the vamps talked about him as if he wasn’t in the room with us. “Older by at least two thousand years...perhaps three.”
Again, the others nodded.
“You’ll meet him in a couple of days,” added Raquel. “Once we reach the castle. Racco’s speedboat will get us there by Tuesday morning.”
“And that’s somewhere in France?” I sought to confirm.
“Yes, it is,” said Racco, grabbing his glass of merlot and moving to the chair next to Garvan’s. “It is in the mountains not too far from Perpignan. We call it ‘Le château de douleur’, and hope your presence will provide the warmth it has lacked for many years. And, to add to Raquel’s comment, we are currently moving at between eighty and one hundred knots—fast enough to get there on time, and yet, avoid being mistaken for something we are not.”
I scarcely heard this last part, and everyone’s laughter that followed Garvan’s ensuing joke about being mistaken for a torpedo. The reference to staying in a French castle sounded permanent, which was exactly what I didn’t want to hear. The stated need to keep me alive was one I could abide by, but I intended for this to be sort of a forced vacation and nothing more. Damned straight, I planned to return home to the States, and soon.
Rather than argue the point right then, I smiled and nodded in agreement. I was fairly certain that despite the vampires open access to my unspoken thoughts, this gorgeous, middle-aged man had no clue about my intentions.
“Racco mentioned how you wish to call someone in the states,” said Chanson, when the silence that followed turned awkward. “Because of our need to remain undeterred by any outside interference, we can allow you to call only one person. Do you understand?”
She seemed worried again, like her impish persona would only last so long before her deeper feelings would cut through the façade. I could totally relate to that.
“Okay,” I agreed, although I wanted to call everybody close to me—just to make sure nobody worried needlessly.
“Who will it be?” asked Garvan, and I’m sure by the look on his face he already knew it would be my boyfriend.
I thought he might voice an objection, but when Chanson handed me a cell phone and showed me how to dial back into the United States, he simply watched me make the call to Peter. I worried what I might say once Peter answered the call, fearing I might choke up and say nothing, or forget something critical, like a report on Tyreen’s condition.
But he never answered. Just two rings, and the call went to voicemail. The second attempt got me the same response.
“Can I please call one more person,” I pleaded, when Chanson moved to take the handset away from me. She hesitated, and I could tell from her expression that she carefully debated whether this would be wise or not. “I won’t call Tennessee again. Let me call my grandmother in Virginia, and I swear that’ll be it. No more calls after that—I promise!”
Grandma Terese was the only relative I could think of who wouldn’t overreact to what was going on. Yes, she’d be worried. But, since there was little I could do about my present circumstances, she was the only one to whom I could honestly share what was happening and trust her to tell my parents and even Peter what they needed to know, and no more. There wasn’t anyone else in my life as gifted in getting their point across without spilling a secret in the process.
“All right,” Chanson finally agreed, after getting a confirming ‘go ahead’ nod from Nora. “This will be the only opportunity we can grant you. At least, until we arrive on French soil. So, make sure you dial your grandmother’s phone number correctly, Txema.”
“Okay.”
I started dialing Grandma Terese’s number, fearing for a moment I had forgotten it. Chanson told me that we were roughly two hours ahead of America’s Eastern Time zone, which meant my grandmother should be winding down after her dinner. Unless, my folks had brought her to stay with them after learning about the latest carnage at UT, and the fact I missed my flight home. I prayed this wasn’t the case, or I’d be screwed altogether, without anyone back home knowing I was okay and not to worry.
The phone reached its fourth ring and I started to panic.
“Hello?”
“Grandma, it’s me.” I hoped I didn’t sound as excited and relieved as I felt. It was like a lifesaver had just been thrown out to me in the sea of confusion and uncertainty I found myself immersed in.
“Txema!! Where are you?!” She sounded as if she had been crying.
“I’m okay, Grandma,” I told her, hoping my tone assured her this was true. I wanted very badly to tell her everything, but knew I’d have to be evasive with most details. “I’m safe. I can’t explain where I am or even tell you who my protectors are. They saved my life last night—“
“You are with the vampires!” she blurted out, interrupting me. “I thought they would protect their territory when I heard from my cousins in Lourdes last week that Sorne and Nere had been killed. So, they have you, yes?”
“Yes, I’m with them,” I admitted, reeling from her keen intuitive knowledge that told her far more than I ever intended revealing. And, how in the hell did she know that vampires would have such an interest in her granddaughter? I think this revelation startled my vampire companions, too, as they all perked up. “But, I really am safe.”
“So far…,” she agreed, but seemed pensive.
I could almost picture her…staring off into space. I had witnessed her absent stare on many occasions when she would receive visions from the other side. Grandma Terese is a gifted seer, who used to do card readings for a loyal clientele that included many of Richmond’s elitists dependent on her astounding insights. She reluctantly gave up her vocation due to severe arthritis in her back and hands.
“They will try to take you back to France,” she advise
d, and it sounded like she brought the phone closer to her mouth, making her voice sound like an amplified muffled whisper. “Stay with them and don’t try to handle this on your own, Txema. You know what I mean…you are your own worst enemy in getting into trouble with your stubbornness. You will need to listen this time.”
“All right,” I agreed, knowing full well it would be a war within, to be so obedient. I couldn’t guarantee I would not be stubborn, but I also understood the gravity of my situation. “Is Papa upset with me?”
“Upset?” she repeated my question before clearing her throat. “He and your Uncle Petri, along with Jon are on their way to Knoxville to look for you. If I call him on his cell phone, perhaps it won’t be too much trouble to turn around and come home.”
“They drove to Tennessee?”
“Yes,” she said, still with the receiver close to her mouth. “He and your momma are very worried—as we all are. To answer your question, he is not angry…just hurt, and worried. At least when I tell them that we have spoken, it should help. But, your papa will be most unhappy you didn’t call him, Txema.”
“I know,” I said, softly as to be respectful. My father would definitely be the worst person to call right now. I needed someone level headed to speak with, and my grandmother’s comments confirmed my decision to call her instead was, in fact, the right one. “Please tell him and everyone else that I love them very much. I love you, too, Grandma.”
“I love you as well, Txema…very much!”
She sniffed, and I could tell this whole thing was really upsetting her. Yet, like the fact I had no idea two cousins had died in France last week, I knew she’d find a way to tell my parents and brothers that I was okay. She might tell them that I had left the country and was on my way to France. Yet, I felt reasonably certain she’d never mention a single thing about vampires.
Chapter 14
Getting back into a festive mood proved a challenge after I hung up with my grandmother. Not that I was the life of the party before then, but the reality that my family had been thrown into a panic trying to find me weighed heavy on my heart.
Of course, my vampire friends and our gregarious host didn’t take long to get things back to the merry atmosphere they hoped for. The servants and Racco danced with the female vamps, while Garvan tried to keep me company. At times, it was hard to resist his prods and persistent charms that almost got me off my ass to kick up my heels—especially since my ankle hadn’t felt that good since the school year began.
But, I couldn’t stop worrying about Peter, Tyreen, my family, and whether or not this trip across the Atlantic would be worth it. After all, if Ralu and his minions found me in Knoxville by crossing the same ocean I traveled across in a speeding yacht right then, how hard would it be for them to find me in the ‘Old World’ they were already well-familiar with?
The wine and champagne flowed freely among us humans, and I finally had a few…well maybe six glasses of wine or champagne from midnight until shortly before dawn. Toward the end of the party, sometime around 4:30 a.m., I headed back to my cabin. Both Racco and Garvan offered to escort me there—and either invitation would’ve gladly been taken if I wasn’t as inebriated as I was by then. I accepted Chanson’s offer to make sure I ‘didn’t tumble down the stairs’ or ‘wander on deck and fall into the ocean’.
Just before we reached my room, navigating the hallway that seemed to spin around me, she pulled me aside. My cousin drew close enough, to where her lilac scent threatened to pull my stomach’s alcohol content up through my throat.
“I know you are afraid, Txema—afraid of so much that can go wrong,” she said, her voice low, as if she didn’t want the other vampires’ keen ears to pick up her words to me. “Regardless of what we may face in the coming days, I will not let anything bad happen to you. Nothing—and I mean no person or thing—will do you any harm. I swear this to you, as your ancestor that I am, and as the friend I hope to become.”
Before I could respond, she disappeared. Only the draft from her speedy return upstairs remained, as a few stray pieces of paper drifted into the air and back down to the carpet runner. It was just as well. I likely would’ve vomited if I opened my mouth to speak.
***
When I awoke, the daylight peering in through my room’s window blinds seemed weak, as if the sun had already begun its final descent in the west.
“No frigging way!” I whispered, disbelieving another day had disappeared.
I jumped out of my bed and moved over to the window, pulling the blinds away. We were still a long ways from land, surrounded by water for as far as I could see. The ship swayed a little as it crashed through bigger swells than I remembered seeing the previous afternoon. I wondered if the advisement of moving between eighty and one hundred knots only applied to night travel, as the yacht seemed to be speeding along.
Looking toward the rear of the ship, the sun hadn’t set yet, but certainly would within the next hour or so. The wall clock across from the bed gave what I assumed was the current time as 4:50 p.m., which could’ve saved me the trouble of looking outside if I had looked there first. Actually, just finding my damned wristwatch would’ve allowed me to come pretty close to calculating the correct time. But, it was missing.
Regardless, the fact another day had nearly slipped away really ticked me off. I ran into the bathroom, ignoring my throbbing head and my less-than-flattering appearance in the bathroom mirror. I quickly brushed my teeth and jumped into the shower, hoping I could simply rinse away my hangover and haggard look. Afterward, I hurriedly dressed in my clothes from the other day, not overly surprised that everything had been washed and pressed. I then left my room. At least I looked a hell of a lot more alive, although the hangover stayed with me.
I planned to head straight for the stairs to take me up to the ship’s bow, where it seemed everybody hung out. That was my intent, to find Mercel, Racco, or whoever else was there—even if it meant straining to work through my pounding headache and nausea to communicate in the scant French I knew and understood.
But, then I noticed a door ajar to my left, near where the engine room sat. At first glance, I assumed someone must be in the room. If I hadn’t glimpsed the corner of a coffin, I would’ve stayed with the original plan.
Temptation got the better of me, and I stepped quietly over to the doorway. I peered inside the room and saw a row of caskets, six in all. Each one appeared to be made of gold, and a few were embedded with fine jewels in intricate designs.
The daytime hideouts for the vampires. Expensive refuges that still left them vulnerable, and at their human protectors’ mercy. I couldn’t help wondering what they looked like when they slept. However, it wouldn’t have been the optimum time to take a peek. The sun was setting, and before long, my otherworldly guardians were to arise from their slumber. I entertained a brief vision of my neck being snapped in two after opening one of these ornate caskets, by a vampire stuck in some sort of night terror—assuming vampires dream, of course.
“Is it not a room fit for kings and queens?”
I whirled around, finding Racco standing just a few feet away. He must’ve quietly followed behind me after I ventured inside this ‘sleep’ chamber. Dressed in blue jeans, ostrich cowboy boots, and a red and black flannel shirt, he reminded me of how Armando was dressed the first night he accompanied Garvan to my dorm room.
He smiled shyly, the small dimples in his cheeks and the slight crow’s feet around his eyes accentuating his rugged handsomeness. This man could make my heart pound hard if he tied a burlap sack around his waist. I believe it might have something to do with those beautiful blue eyes, seductive and yet at the same time innocent. Like a little boy and a famished lover all wrapped into one person.
“I didn’t mean to startle you,” he said, stepping towards me, while I just stood there with an ‘I can’t believe you’re this gorgeous!’ expression on my face. Or, at least a dumbfounded look hiding my erotic thoughts. A slight twinkle in those eyes told
me that he understood my plight. I’d bet he’s probably seen my wanton expression literally thousands of times during the past two millennia.
“It’s okay,” I told him, removing my gaze from him to survey the upscale coffins again, and doing my best to pretend my fascination from just a moment earlier was still there. The surreal knowledge that the living dead were just a few feet away still held some sway…but increasingly less and less as the ship’s host came up behind me. “They’ll be waking soon. Right?”
I said this as I turned around, the scent of an expensive musk cologne filling my nostrils and wisps of dark chest hair near his neckline attracting my attention as I avoided his gaze. He stood a couple of inches taller than me, and maybe even an inch taller than Peter. Despite my man’s boyish charm and beauty, my tenuous devotion to Peter proved to be inadequate protection from Racco’s sophisticated sexuality and mature persona. My host studied me in silence, his unspoken passion easily penetrating my entire being. The language of desire is more felt than spoken, as it is. He bent his face towards mine, his lips slightly parted.
“Does your boat have a name?” I blurted out, pulling away from the sweet allure of a kiss with an immortal man—a near-ageless human being.
It was instinctive fear. Intimidation? Maybe. Centuries of experience versus a few years since one’s lost virginity could certainly account for that. But, where in the hell did a question like the one I voiced come from? …Unless it was a random musing from my youth, like the ‘Skipper’ in my father’s beloved “Gilligan’s Island” reruns from yesteryear. The ‘Skipper’ had a name for his itty-bitty boat. So should the master of a glorious yacht.
“We call it ‘L'Antoinette Bleue’, or ‘The Blue Antoinette’,” he said, chuckling. His eyes twinkled with even more amusement. “I named it in honor of Marie Antoinette, whom my brother and I always found the most charming and likeable person in King Louis’s court. Aristocrats can be such boring—“
