“A gift? You call our being here a gift?”
“Yes. We are sisters, all three of us, forever.”
All of this she rendered in pencil drawings, and she read Dracula through and through. The only narrative that made sense was that she was one of the three “weird sisters” mentioned by Harker. She found herself writing those words in the margins of drawings of the three of them, and she wondered who Sasha was and where she was now. The face was familiar to her in her mind’s eye, but she knew she’d never seen her in this lifetime. It was a relief in many ways, as she felt some satisfaction that her relationship with Alex had been somehow more authentic by not having the taint of her past existence thrown on it.
In addition to the dreams of Daniela, Sasha, and Olivia, she’d realized through her dreams that Olivia had turned her yet again; the dreams of Olivia when she stayed with Lisa were no more dreams than her remembrances of her past life had been; and she remembered what she’d done in the park on New Years Eve.
She’d danced in the moonlight with Christophe and he’d allowed her to feed from him; he’d also been at the park in the Garden District the night she’d walked out of Lisa’s house asleep. She remembered now that he’d been with her many times, and it was Christophe who, in the form of a Carpathian Shepherd, had protected her when she roamed in a trance through New Orleans’ streets, looking for sustenance.
At the end of three days, she felt ready to return to her life outside of her bedroom. She wasn’t sure how she was going to deal with all she had learned, but she was sure she wasn’t going to be a pawn any longer.
Chapter Forty-Five
Vivienne was worried about Liz, and she kept coming by the bar in the evenings, hoping to catch her. She’d called her several times, but got no answer and Liz had not returned any of her various voicemails. She was surprised to get a text from her a few days after the consultation with Martine. It simply said, “I’ve returned to the world of the living.”
She stopped by the bar, hoping to catch her at work, and she did. Liz smiled at her when she walked in, and she had a drink ready for her as she sat down at the bar. “Hey, there. I got your text. I assume you already know I’ve been stalking you.” Vivienne was a bit embarrassed.
”I’m sorry, Vivienne. I had a lot of sorting out to do. I’m clearer now on what the message meant, and I wanted to talk to you about it. I’m not sure who else to turn to, and frankly the story is too crazy for me to even know how to tell.” She reached under the bar ad pulled out her sketchpad, putting it on the bar in front of Vivienne. “Maybe looking at this will help break the ice.”
The bar was fairly empty, as it was early in the evening. Vivienne cracked open the sketchbook, finding detailed pencil sketches inside of Liz and another beautiful woman. Liz had added captions to the sketches, identifying the one who looked like her as “Daniela” and the other woman as “Olivia.” There were also pages with quotations in the margins, and she recognized names like “Harker” and “Van Helsing.” It was almost like reading a graphic novel, the pictures and text working together to create a solid narrative.
“Liz, how did you piece this all together?”
Liz told her about the dreams and of how they had gotten even more detailed and clear after Ais visit. “I couldn’t help myself, Vivienne. When she offered herself up like that, I was compelled to pull the wound to my mouth.” Vivienne didn’t respond other than to keep looking at the sketches. She got to the first one with Christophe and stopped, looking at Liz.
“Why is my brother here?”
“He’s one reason I’m still alive. I don’t think he’s merely a donor, though.” She flipped the page and the next sketch was of a large dog, walking beside Liz. “He can apparently change into different things, which I think goes beyond the capabilities of a human donor.”
Liz waited until Vivienne was finished looking at the sketches. “I know that this is all too much to take in, believe me. I am still hoping you can help me.”
Vivienne nodded. “I’m not sure what I can do, but I can try. I’ve got some issues of my own that I may need your help with, too. It seems as if we both really are at a crossroads.”
Liz vowed to help in any way she could. “I think that we need to call Olivia to me; I need to show her I’ve got the upper hand.” She pulled a battered copy of Dracula from under the bar. “I don’t know a lot about magic, but you do. Perhaps we can do something similar to what Van Helsing manages at the end with Mina? He has her within a magic circle and she’s protected there somehow. Could you do that for me?” She handed Vivienne the novel and pointed to a passage. Vivienne read it aloud:
Then, with the fear on me of what might be, I drew a ring so big for her comfort, round where Madam Mina sat. And over the ring I passed some of the wafer, and I broke it fine so that all was well guarded. She sat still all the time, so still as one dead. And she grew whiter and even whiter till the snow was not more pale, and no word she said. But when I drew near, she clung to me, and I could know that the poor soul shook her from head to feet with a tremor that was pain to feel.
Liz nodded. “See, even when he tries to get her out of the circle, she cannot pass over the line, and he knows that no vampires can cross over to get her.”
Vivienne agreed to try. “I’m not entirely sure I believe everything you’ve told me, Liz, and I’m sorry for that, but I’m willing to try to help you.”
“Kirby and Mike will be gone this weekend; they are leaving Friday morning and won’t be back until Sunday. Deanie can cover the late shift at the bar Friday night.”
Chapter Forty-Six
Vivienne knew she should plan out the ritual with care, as she was entering unknown territory with Liz. On the one hand, if what Liz told her was true, it would mean dealing with forces far darker and more sinister than she ever dealt with before. On the other hand, if this was all a delusion on Liz’s part, she risked a potential psychotic break in going through the ritual with her. She didn’t know who to ask for help, so she prayed to Rosalie that she was making the right choice.
The grotto at the Shrine of St. Ann was one of Rosalie’s favorite spots and she’d shared it with Vivienne when she was a small child. Vivienne went there to light a candle for her mother and ask for guidance. The grotto, a replica of the grotto in Lourdes, was quiet and there were only a few older women there as she lit the devotional candle for her mother. After a few moments of quiet reflection, she moved toward the statue of the Immaculate Conception. There, under the statue, was a small tap. She reached into her shoulder bag and pulled out three small bottles. These she filled with the holy water from the tap. She tucked them away and walked to her car.
As she drove to her grandmother’s house, she felt like a thief. Today was the day her grandmother typically spent the afternoon making calls, and she knew that Christophe would be with her. This left Rosalie’s altar unattended. She felt certain that if she had something of her mother’s she’d feel more confident about the level of protection she could offer Liz and of the level of protection she herself would have. It was her mother’s ritual knife, her boline that she often used to cut herbs for ritual purposes, that she was after, as well as some of the dressed candles that she had seen the last time she was at Christophe’s. When she entered, though, she noticed the altar had been disrupted; the candles were no longer there, and the boline was gone.
She sat and waited for him to come home. She knew she risked a confrontation with Marie by doing so, but her anger over the disruption of her mother’s altar overwhelmed her fear of her grandmother.
He sensed her before he walked in the door. She had parked a block or so down from the front of the house on the other side of the street, but he knew she was there. As he keyed open the door, he stood on the threshold, letting it slowly swing open. The room was dimly lit, as the sun was sinking down and the shades were drawn. But he could see her as plainly and clearly as if every light were on in the carriage house.
“To what do I ow
e this pleasure, dear sister?” He walked in and put his keys on the hook by the door, pushing the door shut with his heel. “You are taking a big risk being this close to grandmother, don’t you think? She was just trying to pressure me into getting you to come for dinner again.”
Vivienne stood up and stepped forward to stand nose-to-nose with him. “Where are mother’s candles and boline?”
He merely laughed in her face. She realized that his eyes looked harder than they ever had before and that the old fear was no longer in them. As his older sister, she’d always been able to intimidate him. She’d often felt sorry for him, as he always seemed subservient and down-trodden, but now she saw that was gone in him. He stepped to the side and gestured toward the altar.
“What are a few candles and a fancy paring knife to me? I would think you’d have your own supplies by now.” He stepped closer and with one wide swipe knocked the remaining items off the altar to the floor. “Help yourself. Don’t forget to lock up as you leave. I have somewhere I have to be.”
He left her picking up the scattered bits of paper and glass from the altar. She was shaking with rage, but also with fear of what he had become. She’d seen the same look in the sketches that Liz drew of him, the same carnal hunger in his eyes as she’d seen in those drawings.
Chapter Forty-Seven
Liz saw Kirby and Mike off early Friday morning. “Don’t worry about a thing, guys. Just go have fun and be ready to come home and tell me all about it.”
“Are you sure you’re ok here by yourself? You could always stay on the couch at the bar, I guess, if you don’t want to be here alone at night.” Kirby was being a mother-hen. Liz assured him she’d be fine.
“I’ve stayed here alone plenty since I’ve been back when you’ve been over at Mike’s taking care of him. You two deserve a weekend out of town to celebrate the final draft of the dissertation. I’m so proud of you, Mike, and of Kirby for putting up with you.” Liz winked at Mike. “As the daughter and widow of two very bookish people, I know it can be a trial to compete with every handsome protagonist that comes along.”
Kirby beamed. “If we can just get him through the defense, maybe he can really relax.” They had decided to check out Miami for a weekend. “We’ll be sitting by the pool getting drunk in no time.” She helped them get loaded into the airport shuttle and then she locked up the house and headed to the bar.
She was apprehensive about her plans with Vivienne later, but she was also determined. Vivienne had been reading up on different protection rituals, and Liz felt confident in putting herself in Vivienne’s care. As she got to work putting the bar to rights, wiping the counter, cutting limes and lemons, and washing the few glasses that Nicole hadn’t gotten to before she came in, Liz fell into a comfortable routine and rhythm. She was surprised when Vaughn Morris sat down at the bar and ordered a beer.
“Mr. Morris, right?”
He nodded. “I promise I’m not stalking you. I was supposed to meet someone here; she insisted we meet up at The Ruby.” He sipped the beer. “I am a little early, though. I wanted to tell you how great the mural looks. Audrey and I are really excited about the house.”
Liz smiled. “I’m glad it all worked out. Lisa will be missed, but it will be nice for the house to have a family in it. Your wife looks lovely.”
Vaughn grinned. “She is pretty awesome. I did tell her I figured out who you were that day. She kind of got on to me for the whole incident. I told her that I left things up to you, though, and that got me off the hook a little bit.”
Liz had to admit that he was a nice guy. “I am going to call you; I promise. I am still playing catch up, though, and I’m not really sure I have a lot I can tell you about the murder. I can tell you a lot of wonderful things about Alex, though.” She nodded as Ai and a tour group came in and sat down. “Excuse me for the moment, though. I’ve got to go take orders.”
After she wrote down the drink orders, Liz went back behind the bar and started filling them. She was on the other end of the bar from where Vaughn was seated, and he saw the Vietnamese tour guide belly up to the bar. The conversation seemed intimate and easy, as if they had known each other for a long time. He wondered if they were lovers or if they had been at some point. He was watching them when he felt hands slide around his waist and breath on his neck.
“So glad you could come out to see me, Mr. Morris.” Her breath was like violets. He spun the bar stool around and came face to face with Tiffany. He could feel himself blushing.
She wasn’t dressed in her dance outfit, but he was more aware of her raw sensuality than he had been at their previous meeting. She seemed a different person, and as she sat down next to him, he asked about her new look.
“Tiffany, I hate to bring it up, but you look so much like Wren Anderson that I feel like I’m dreaming.”
She laughed. Even her laughter was a perfect imitation of Wren’s throaty laughter, not the girlish giggle he’d heard from her before. “Please, these days I’m far more comfortable being called Morrigan.” She shrugged off her jacket, revealing a bandage. “I just got a new tattoo in honor of fully embracing my stage persona. Even the old Morrigan didn’t have this one.” She peeled the bandage down, and as she did, Liz looked over. Under the bandage was a wolf that was so close to the picture of Christophe in her sketch book that she let out a little yelp.
“You’ve certainly embraced the whole persona, I guess.” Vaughn was starting to feel uncomfortable. He wasn’t sure why, but he felt as if this wasn’t the same person he’d met before and he felt threatened by her. Liz came down to take her order.
“Interesting tattoo there, Tiffany.”
“Oh, Liz, call me Morrigan. And I’ll have a shot of that vodka you keep in the freezer.”
Liz’s felt like the floor tilted as Tiffany spoke. The voice that came out of her mouth was Wren’s, and Wren was the one they kept a bottle of vodka in the freezer for. They’d left it there out of habit. She slid the shot glass to Morrigan. “So, what’s with the new tattoo?”
“Mmm. Just some research I did on Morrigan le Fey; I found out she’s often depicted as a crow or a wolf. I saw this image of a Carpathian Shepherd and I knew that was the next tattoo I was going to get. Such a powerful figure, don’t you think?” Her smile was ghastly in its power and sensuality, and Liz could feel Vaughn starting to be drawn in by her charms. Liz made an excuse to check on the tables of tour group attendees, and when she turned around, she saw that Vaughn and Morrigan were gone, a twenty on the bar.
She was not sure how it was possible, but she knew it was Wren, not Tiffany, who had just been in the bar. She was worried for Vaughn’s safety, but she also was worried for her own. She got out her laptop and did a Google search—nothing indicated that anything had happened with Wren’s situation.
She was nervous and anxious the rest of her shift. Deanie came in and handled the bar as business picked up. By the time Vivienne arrived to walk with Liz, she was more than ready to get out of the bar. Without a word, she grabbed her coat and bag when she saw her friend walk through the door, and they headed out into the night, toward home.
As they walked, neither said anything. Both were concentrating on their purpose for the evening, and small talk was out of place. Once they got to the house, Liz listened to Vivienne’s instructions.
“The living room is the biggest room in the house, and I think the best place for this to work. The hardwood floors are smooth enough to get a good solid line on the circle.” They started moving furniture out of that room to clear it completely. Vivienne then prepared the space.
She was again dressed in all white, and she advised Liz to dress in all white as well. “It may seem symbolic, but symbols have great power” she said as she handed Liz a white gown. “This is comfortable and I’ve worn it before, so maybe it has a little extra mojo on it” she said, trying to make light of the heavy situation. Liz went into her room and slipped out of her work clothes and bra and underwear, slipping the white gow
n over her head. She was surprised at how well it fit, as she always thought of Vivienne as so much taller and stronger than she was.
Before she left her room, Liz looked at herself in the mirror and saw that she no longer looked frail. Since feeding on Ai the first time, she’d taken sustenance on a more regular basis, always letting Ai come to her. She’d fed from her earlier in the day; once the tour was over for the day, Ai returned to The Ruby. As was their custom, she slipped in and ordered a drink at the bar and then while Deanie was occupied getting the drink for her she moved toward the bathroom. She never made it though, as she was always met by Liz who would pull her into her office and feed from her. She felt a small twinge of guilt, but Ai was always the one who initiated it and she seemed to benefit from it as much as Liz did.
When she returned to the living room, she saw that Vivienne had set up four candles, one red, one green, one blue, and one yellow. In the center was a large white pillar candle that she’d carved various Vévés into. Incense had been lit, and the room was fragrant with it. Vivienne stood next to the large pillar candle and she motioned to Liz to join her. She’d placed two cushions on the floor inside the circle that she now drew in holy water that she’d taken from St. Ann’s. Once the circle was drawn clockwise and the candles at the four cardinal points were lit, she indicated that she and Liz were to sit. Silently, she lit the white candle and waited.
Liz sat and concentrated on the flame. She wasn’t sure how to summon anything, but felt that if she concentrated hard enough something would happen. She watched the flame dance and soon she felt drowsy. She closed her eyes and began to whisper Olivia’s name over and over. Olivia, come to me. Olivia. . .Olivia. The room was silent other than her whispering and suddenly she felt the temperature drop. She opened her eyes and it looked as if there were a breeze in the room; all of the candles flickered wildly, threatening to go out. She kept chanting Olivia’s name, and the louder she got, the higher the flames leapt.
Brigitte's Cross (The Olivia Chronicles) Page 22
