Tainted Blood

by S S Bazinet

  “I will,” Elise said. “On the bright side, at least you’re sweating, not running a fever.”

  Arel pocketed his handkerchief. “No, I actually feel quite well physically. But that’s enough about me. How is your move coming?”

  Elise frowned. “Not as smoothly as I’d like. The problem is finding another place to live. Happily the owners of this house hadn’t found new tenants so they let me extend my lease.”

  Annabel’s eyes brightened. “Elise explained that she likes to live in different places and research those locations for her books. And since I’m staying for another week, I’ve agreed to go scouting with her. There are some towns within a hundred miles or so that she’s interested in.”

  “I’m thinking of having my next story take place in a small town,” Elise added.

  Annabel gave Arel an expectant look. “Carey is coming with us. Why don’t you come too?”

  Elise hugged her pillow a little tighter. “Yes, why don’t you? You’ve lived in the general area for some time. You could give us some suggestions and maybe point out things we’d miss otherwise.”

  Arel’s hand abandoned Freddie’s soft furry head, and he crossed his arms. “I’m really not that knowledgeable—”

  “Oh come on, Arel,” Annabel pleaded. “A day trip might be fun.”

  Arel hadn’t taken many sight-seeing trips. And the idea of fun didn’t compute very well. “Let me think about it.” He looked down and saw that Freddie had fallen asleep and was dozing peacefully. He carefully lifted the small dog onto an adjoining cushion. “Your friend seems very content.”

  Elise smiled. “Freddie’s life is simple. He loves everyone, and he expects everyone to love him.”

  Arel stood up to leave. “I’m happy one of us knows what he’s doing. From what Claire said, I must be clueless.”

  As he started for the door, Annabel hurried over and took his hand.

  “Would you please check on William? Maybe you could give him a call. Quiet or not, he talks to you.”

  Arel gave her an understanding smile. “Of course, I will. I’m sure he’ll have plenty to say when I tell him that Claire walked out on me.”

  Thirty-Five

  HOLDING HIS PHONE to his ear, Arel could imagine the person he was talking to perfectly. William was in his London residence with that serious look on his face. It conveyed a message, “I’m sorry that you’ve been an idiot again, Arel. But I only say things like that because I care about you. You’re always letting yourself be hurt.”

  But in reality, William had stopped making such blatant statements. He wasn’t just being quiet like Annabel explained. He was being too quiet. When Arel related the news about his breakup, William’s tone was worn and his verbal response was short. He barely got out two words. “I see.”

  There was a long pause after William’s reply. Arel finally broke it with an inquiry. “What’s wrong, William? And don’t tell me that there’s nothing new going on. You know that I can feel your energy almost as keenly as I can feel my own. You’re hiding from something.”

  When William remained silent, Arel didn’t push for an answer. He knew William wouldn’t appreciate being told that his fear was palpable. It was so raw and agonizing that Arel had to shield himself from its full intensity. Finally, he changed the subject, hoping to distract William from whatever was eating at him.

  “You’ll find this amusing. Claire told me that she thought Elise and I would be perfect together.”

  William barely rallied. “Why is that funny? Annabel said that Elise has been very nice, that Carey and Michael worked a miracle.”

  Arel laughed. “You wouldn’t approve if you saw her. She dresses in garments that are the opposite of restrained, and her hair is—”

  “What difference does it make, Arel? You thought Claire was perfect, but that didn’t mean anything. In the end, your perfect woman turned out to be almost as bad as your father.”

  It was Arel’s turn to be silent. William wouldn’t discuss his own situation, but he finally voiced his opinion about Arel’s recent relationship. Unfortunately, Arel knew that William’s observation was correct. For the first time since Claire left, his anger almost surfaced. “I don’t want to talk about it—”

  “You can’t ignore what you let Claire do. She abused you, admit it.”

  Arel leaned back against the wall, clutching the phone and thinking about how hard he’d tried to be what people wanted. As a boy, his goal was to measure up to his brother. But he was so young, and his best wasn’t good enough. His father rewarded his efforts by beating him and calling him useless. But he’d dealt with that abuse. At least he thought he had. So why would he have let Claire verbally beat him? The thought made him angry at himself for being so stupid, for being the idiot that William often called him.

  He put the phone to his ear again. “I have to go. I’ll call you later.”

  “I’m here if you need to talk,” William said.

  Arel ended the call as quickly as possible. He wasn’t ready to process his relationship with Claire, not yet. For now, he needed to find something else to occupy his time. He grabbed his phone again and called Elise. “If you still want me, I’ll come with you on your house hunting trip tomorrow.”

  Elise’s answer was immediate. “Of course I still want you . . . to come, that is.”

  Before he could begin analyzing her forceful statement, he put it aside. He wanted to forget everything for a while.

  * * * * *

  William put his phone in his pocket. He didn’t have the energy to think about Arel’s problems. Instead, he went back to what he’d been doing. He was taking a kind of inventory of his home. He was going through each room, noting the furniture, the colors of the walls and fabrics, and the accessories. He paused in the guest bedroom, glancing over at some display shelves. A beautiful piece of satsuma pottery caught his eye. The vase had a vibrant floral design. The use of red, green, blue and gold colors was exquisite. The vase was a testament to the artist’s ability to uplift the spirit with their handiwork.

  In the not too distant past, each piece of art that he discovered in some auction house or gallery was classified as a small treasure. He delighted in bringing it home and finding a place for it, a place where he could admire its pleasing uniqueness. Recently, he didn’t feel compelled to seek out any more of those treasures. He barely thought about art at all.

  It was the same with his scientific studies. He’d spent years of his life in the lab, delving into matter and how it worked. When a mystery presented itself, he was full of curiosity and would work tirelessly to find an answer. But not even the mystery of angelic blood could peak his interest now.

  At first, he attributed his apathy to what he’d been through with Arel. Perhaps he was addicted to the thrill of high drama as Annabel suggested. He also pondered his relationship with Annabel. He wondered if it was taking over his life. Then he’d contemplated the idea of leaving the world. That had some appeal, but also brought up more questions.

  He’d had one near death experience, and it was wonderful, all brightness and light. But things were very different then. He’d been at peace with himself when he’d died that time. When he faced eternity, he still had questions and quests to spur him on. Now, all he had was a gnawing feeling deep down. It was a terrible foreboding that something horrible was going to gobble him up. If it did, what kind of afterlife would be waiting this time?

  The thought of being a victim of something unknown made him angry, so angry that he wanted to smash every beautiful vase that he owned. But then he had to laugh at himself. To think such thoughts wasn’t original. At a very low point in his life, Arel had acted out his anger and gone on a destructive rampage.

  “Lord help me if I’m turning into another Arel.”

  He loved Arel as a brother, but the man wasn’t a good role model. Arel made the same mistake over and over.

  “Talk about a victim,” William sighed. But as soon as he said the word, his muscles ten
sed. He stood in the doorway, fighting a sudden flash of impending disaster. His mind and body seemed to join forces at such times, making it hard for him to stay in control of himself.

  The spell of doom was broken by the phone sounding. William didn’t recognize the ring tone and didn’t take the call. A couple of moments later, he got a voice mail. When he checked it out, he was surprised to hear from Rolphe’s girlfriend, Myra. From what he knew about her, she was someone who was easy-going and usually had a smile in place. He didn’t expect her voice to have a desperate, pleading tone.

  “William, please, you have to help Rolphe. I’ve been taking care of his cat, Dantella, but he hasn’t come back for her. He won’t answer the door when I visit, and I’m afraid he’s ill again. Can you call him and find out what’s going on?”

  William rubbed his brow with irritation. The last thing he wanted to do was to talk to Rolphe again. He walked into the living room. Raphael was sitting on the couch in a meditative posture with his eyes closed. He opened them as soon as William approached him.

  “Problem?” Raphael asked.

  “It’s Rolphe. Myra thinks something is wrong with him.”

  “You said Rolphe was upset when he visited here.”

  William sat down and crossed his arms. “So what? Being upset is the norm when a person is sporting angelic blood.”

  “As we’ve discussed, that isn’t what was intended. When Arel begged Michael to pass on his blood, he wanted—”

  “I know all about what Arel wanted. But that’s not what I wanted. Before Arel got his revenge and passed the stuff on to me, I had a life that suited my needs and desires. Maybe I was ignorant when it came to your world, but my world was ordered and dependable. Ever since I was a young man, I did exactly as I pleased.”

  “That was when you thought of yourself as a vampire, right? You enjoyed a heightened sense of power after Rolphe gave you his blood.”

  “That’s right. But Rolphe didn’t give me his blood out of the kindness of his heart. I had to beg him for a taste of the stuff. Afterwards, he left me to die. He didn’t think I would survive. But I fought with everything I had to stay alive.”

  “Did you feel like Rolphe’s blood connected the two of you?”

  “No, we had nothing to do with each other.”

  “And now that he’s changed, how do you feel about him?”

  “Rolphe is someone I’d rather not associate with.”

  Raphael’s eyes softened. “That’s your right, William. You can do whatever you want.”

  “What I want is to be left alone! But dammit, I never get a chance to figure out my own problems. First, I had to deal with Arel going haywire. Now, Rolphe is supposedly in some kind of trouble.”

  “What does that have to do with you?”

  “According to Myra, I’m supposed to help him.”

  “From my vantage point, assisting others because of obligation has limited value. On the other hand, love is a potent motivator.”

  “Love? For Rolphe? If he died this minute, I’d celebrate.” He glanced over at Raphael, feeling more relaxed as soon as he voiced his opinion. “What do you think? Is there a possibility that he might move on?”

  Raphael shrugged. “Like you said, he’s in trouble. Of course, you were in trouble when you met Rolphe for the first time those many years ago.”

  “What are you talking about? I had it all when it came to the normal world. Women flocked to my side. Men respected me and gave me a wide berth. Ask Arel about the person that I was. Nobody dared cross me.”

  “I agree, but life was getting dull and boring. When you met Rolphe, you felt his power and were drawn to it.”

  “Was it wrong to want something more in life than parties, women and getting drunk?”

  “But why go off with Rolphe? You didn’t know him, and it was easy to see that he was dangerous.”

  William sat back and sighed heavily. “Rolphe was a scary beast of a man, and I usually had a good degree of common sense, but not that night. Scary or not, he fascinated me. When his eyes locked on to me, they glowed. He was like some animal who knows they’re so much stronger than you. I wanted, no, I needed to learn where such power came from.”

  “But you knew powerful men in society—”

  “You mean the privileged class, people like my father? Their titles gave them a pretense of power, but they were nothing compared to a man like Rolphe. His power radiated out from some inner strength. When he walked into the pub, the faint of heart scurried for cover.” William let out a bitter laugh. “Even after Rolphe had Arel’s blood coursing through his veins, it didn’t stop him. He remained as formidable as they come. I couldn’t battle Arel’s tremendous abilities, but Rolphe gave him a hell of a run. No matter what Arel did, no matter how much pain he inflicted, Rolphe wouldn’t give in.”

  “You respect Rolphe, even now.”

  William’s fingers slowly closed into a fist. “The bastard nearly killed me, but you’re right, I do respect his staying power.”

  “What about your staying power, William? You haven’t talked about it recently, but I know your fears are growing.”

  William’s muscles tensed even more. He’d been racking his brain, trying to understand why he was scared all the time. Recently, after Rolphe’s visit, he was even more upset. But why? What did Rolphe have to do with his fears? Why did he still detest the man to the point of wanting him dead? He stared back at Raphael, letting a hint of a smile replace his frown. “I think my fears are starting to make sense.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “When Arel threw me out of heaven, I was afraid of his extraordinary abilities. Then Rolphe came into the picture again. After he had me for lunch, I lost it. I thought I’d recovered, but I was wrong. That’s why I was so nervous when he was here.”

  “Can I help?”

  “No, this is between Rolphe and myself. I need to go to Paris and talk to him. I’m not going to let him die without clearing up a few things.”

  Thirty-Six

  AFTER HIS DISCUSSION with Raphael, William caught the first available train to Paris. He was eager to see Rolphe. The more he thought about the intimidating man, the more convinced he was that Rolphe was the source of all his recent woes. Somehow, Rolphe had activated a sense of helplessness. That was probably why William had had a vision of being a helpless child being pursued by something evil. In reality, that evil thing was Rolphe.

  Just the thought of finding an answer immediately lessened the tension in William’s body. He even felt somewhat hopeful. When Raphael asked if he should accompany William, William decided to make the trip alone. He wanted to prove that he had the ability to handle whatever came his way, and that included facing Rolphe. As the train to Paris sped towards its destination, he also felt his confidence returning. He sat up straighter and faced his future with more certainty.

  But a sense of fearlessness wasn’t new to him. Before he’d been reunited with Arel in New York, he was well acquainted with being the bold master of his life. He’d basked in the glorious feeling that he wasn’t like other humans. Even though he lived in the same world as all the rest, he never allowed that world to diminish his sense of self.

  Angelic blood was the agent that put an end to his self-determined attitude. It put him through an ordeal that was so all consuming that it almost destroyed his ability to cope. He went from being in control to welcoming the release that death would bring.

  In the end, he picked up the pieces of his life and tried to find a positive outcome. He no longer had the gift that Rolphe had given him, but he convinced himself that he had something better. When he and Arel were battling Rolphe, he tried to tell himself that he’d been given a new gift. Surely angelic blood would top whatever Rolphe had bestowed. That’s where he went wrong. Later, when he visited Rolphe, he paid for his mistake and nearly died a most horrible death.

  Currently, he was still paying for that mistake. After Rolphe’s attack, he lost faith in himself. What he h
adn’t realized was that the damage he’d sustained was much more extensive than he thought. He believed he’d gotten over the worst of his fear. In truth, he’d deluded himself. It was there all along, just below the surface, growing in strength.

  William was even starting to understand why he couldn’t outrun his fears. In the new lower level of his London home, there was a painting hanging on his wall. It portrayed him astride an angelic horse, victorious in some alternate world that Arel created. But what worked there didn’t work on planet earth. Raphael hyped the idea of love, but a human being needed much more than intangible virtues to successfully navigate the real world.

  Annabel was a perfect example. When she took off her wings and tried to live like a normal person, she didn’t know how to survive. She was totally helpless and frightened. At times, when William’s fears grabbed hold, he was almost as scared as Annabel.

  That’s why he was anxious to visit Rolphe. Rolphe was the one person who seemed capable of straddling the real and the immaterial. Hopefully, he’d have the answers that William needed to reclaim his freedom.

  * * * * *

  William gave Rolphe’s door another good pounding, waited, and then reached in his pocket. Since Rolphe wasn’t answering, he’d have to let himself into the apartment. Rolphe had given him a spare key and said that he was always welcome. Still, he didn’t like the idea of intruding on someone’s privacy even if that someone was Rolphe.

  He made sure to announce his presence once he was inside the foyer. There was no response. As he walked through to the living room, everything was just as he remembered, a model for neatness and good taste. Obviously, Rolphe was adhering to Arel’s rules for order and a need for beauty. As he searched through the rooms, he called out again. “Rolphe? It’s William. Are you here?”

  Finally, he got a reply.

  “William, is that you?”

  At first, he didn’t recognize the voice. It sounded too frail to belong to Rolphe. But he thought it came from one of the bedrooms. When he looked in the one that belonged to Rolphe, he wondered who was lying in Rolphe’s bed. Then the occupant smiled.