William's Blood

by S S Bazinet

  Why couldn’t he stay hidden and leave me be?

  Before William contacted him, Rolphe’s life was fairly normal. He was involved with a special woman, and he enjoyed painting and playing the piano. As for imbibing a little blood here or there, he didn’t let others in on that dark secret. Besides, he purchased his blood supply. He hadn’t taken it from the source in many years.

  But William’s existence proved Rolphe wasn’t normal. In his younger days, he’d been a cold-blooded killer. Now he would have to kill again. At first, he dismissed the deed. Getting rid of William, the only one who shared his secret, seemed prudent. He didn’t want anyone knowing the truth or exposing him. He needed certain parts of his past to stay hidden, even from himself. But the fact that he was going to kill again meant he’d also have to face what he was. But he wouldn’t face it now.

  He set his glass on the coffee table, stood up, and walked over to his piano. The ebony, Bösendorfer grand took up a good part of the living area. But he didn’t regret its size. The beautiful instrument was an elegant tribute to craftsmanship. Its clean, mellow tones were a delight to his ear.

  He took his seat, thinking about what to play. As he pondered his choices, he needed to steer himself towards something good and decent. Family came to mind, and his large, powerful hands took on a life of their own. He opened himself to memories that had to do with love. His hands hovered over the keyboard, trembling with anticipation as he allowed a different past to resurrect itself. There was a gene in him, a unit of heredity that held him fast to ancestors who couldn’t deny their feelings, who wept and laughed with every twist and turn of daily life. Thoughts about his family brought the gene alive in every cell in his body.

  When his fingers came to rest on the keys, his touch was light and teasing as he began Debussy’s Serenade for the Doll. It was part of the Children's Corner Suite, written for Debussy’s young daughter. There was a playful but tender quality to the notes that made him smile. The music prompted feelings of youth and how happy children could be. He knew that the composer and he shared a common love for their families.

  For me, there was nothing more precious than my little ones.

  He tried to ignore the tightness in his chest as a door from the past swung open, revealing a life far removed from the present. A plump, smiling wife and adorable children were gathered in their small dwelling. They were waiting for him to return home from the fields where he’d been working all day. It was a nightly ritual. He’d walk through the door, and the children would come running. His wife would announce that she’d made fresh bread and soup. How proud he was in those days as he scooped up his little boys and held them tight. Their laughter filled the air with joy as they hugged him back.

  Back then, I didn’t live alone with an aging tomcat.

  As if he knew that Rolphe was thinking about him, Satan came traipsing in. The big tom cat strutted across the carpet, letting out a single meow as he passed by Rolphe. He’d been out all evening. Now, he looked ready for his soft cushion.

  Yes, yes, I care about you, old friend, but once, long ago, I had a whole family to love.

  His hands paused over the keys as he looked around the flat. It was so quiet. Maybe that’s why he needed his piano. He had to drown out the silence around him. He needed his happy boys to be in his arms again.

  They made me feel so proud.

  His sons loved to watch him play the balalaika. Their eyes were bright with desire, always eager to learn what he could teach them. They inspired him to make plans for the future. He worked hard and saved up to give them a better life than he’d had. His daily existence was simple and good. It took years, but eventually he’d even been able to put the horrors of being a soldier and killing behind him.

  But a man’s plans are like dust in the wind.

  As he considered the depressing statement, he couldn’t finish playing the lively notes of Debussy’s piece. There was too much sadness wanting to be expressed. His ancestral gene could quickly become a curse when his mood shifted. He began to play Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata. Its melody was haunting and filled with a deep melancholy that matched his sudden grief. His family was long gone, victims of a cholera epidemic that swept through their village. But ghostly visions of their passing made him grit his teeth. He’d sat for long hours by his wife’s bed, watching helplessly as she took her last breaths. She was the first to die. As the days passed, each child lay in his arms and died too. Only Rolphe was spared.

  Death refused to give me the release I yearned for.

  As his hands moved effortlessly over the keys, the composition became a homage to those he’d loved. His flawless performance created a mood of beauty and regret. At the end of the first movement, he paused. His eyes grew dark as he cursed the memories.

  “God is strange, Satan. He took everything from me. He left me with nothing but pain. Perhaps it was my punishment. I tried to forget how many I killed as a soldier, but the truth was always there, a burden I couldn’t escape no matter how much I thought I could leave it behind.”

  He looked down at the keys and prepared himself for what was coming next. He always skipped the sonata’s second movement and went for the third.

  “You’re lucky not to know the pain of being human. It becomes so unbearable you do things you never thought you’d do.”

  Satan blinked back at him with a steady, easy gaze. Sometimes the animal’s blameless nature was soothing. But it didn’t help this time.

  How had Rolphe strayed so far from common decency? How did he allow himself to become so cold and uncaring? He didn’t have any answers. He could only attack the keyboard again. His fingers flew over the keys in a way that bordered on frenzy. Passion and ferocity were used to still his thoughts about what happened after his family died. But facts were facts.

  He became a vagabond, roaming from place to place, drinking and fighting constantly. There was no humor left, only rage and bitterness. He sank deeper and deeper into despair.

  Until I met Chessa.

  He still wondered if the gypsy woman was a demon or friend. Certainly there was no innocence in her. But there was beauty. Long, thick, raven-black hair. Black eyes. A sensuous body. She drew men to her easily with a look or a gesture. He’d been drawn in too.

  I was a fool who didn’t take charge of my life. Then Chessa gave me a new life.

  He stopped playing, stood up and covered the keys. Again, his hands trembled, but he paid them no heed. He had to get out of the quiet apartment and get some air. He had to find a way to sidetrack his mind and forget the woman who made him into something lethal and cold. He didn’t have the strength to face her memory, not yet.

  Twenty-Six

  PEGGY STARED OUT the living room window, watching Tim pull the car out of the driveway. She gave him a final wave and a smile when he looked her way. Once the car started down the street, she left her post and hurriedly ran to the kitchen. Carol was waiting for her there.

  “Isn’t this fun? Our guys are off to their first swim class for daddies and babies,” she said as she went to the stove and grabbed the kettle. “We’re so lucky to have such great husbands.”

  She poured hot water into the pretty, dragonfly tea pot, splashing the water over the jasmine tea leaves that rested in the strainer. “And now that they’re gone, we can finally catch up. You’ve been home for a while, and we haven’t had time to really discuss Paris.”

  A moment of silence followed, making Peggy look up. Carol was frowning. Peggy quickly put the kettle back on the stove and sat down. “Oh no, don’t tell me that it was a flop. I thought you and Kevin looked happy when you picked up little Ariel.”

  “Paris was wonderful,” Carol sighed.

  “It was? I don’t understand.”

  “I don’t either.”

  “Did Kevin do something again? If he did, I’ll sit him down, once and for—”

  “No, it’s not Kevin.” Carol dropped her gaze. “I’m the one with the problem. In fact, I’m a litt
le embarrassed, but I’ve made an appointment to see someone.”

  “That’s not something to be embarrassed about. It’s a good thing.” Peggy began to straighten her silverware and napkin. “Is it something you want to talk about?”

  “I don’t know. I feel like I’ve been holding my breath ever since I came home. Paris was so magical. Kevin and I both felt like we were starting over. But he said something while we were there—”

  “Of course he did. The big dope always puts his foot—”

  “Peggy, please, why do you always assume Kevin is at fault? Actually, he made a very appropriate observation.”

  “Really? Kevin?”

  “Yes, your brother doesn’t say a lot, but sometimes he’s very understanding.”

  Peggy reached out for the teapot and poured a generous amount of tea into each of their cups. “I suppose you’re right. I’m just being me, always wanting you two to be happy. I don’t want anything to spoil what you have.”

  “That’s why I’m getting some help. I feel like I am going to spoil everything.”

  Peggy handed a cup to Carol. “So what did Kevin say?”

  “He pointed out that both of us seem to have reverted back to being the way we were when we were single. For me, that means that I don’t trust being with someone.”

  “You don’t trust Kevin?”

  Carol didn’t answer. Instead, she pushed back from the table, stood up and went to the back door, staring out with glassy eyes. After a moment, she took a tissue from her pocket and dabbed away a stray tear. “Kevin is a good man. That’s why I think it’s me. Or maybe it’s life. I don’t know. I just don’t want to get hurt again.”

  “But isn’t that kind of normal? We’ve all been hurt. We all feel we have to protect ourselves at times.”

  “But you don’t all feel scared all the time. I see myself watching Kevin, tallying up every possible infraction, anything that might make me feel insecure. He doesn’t even have to do anything wrong. If he watches TV for more than an hour, I take it personally and get angry. I don’t want to live like that.”

  “Oh, you poor thing.” Peggy got up and walked over to where Carol was standing. “You’re having a really rough time, aren’t you?”

  Carol turned to face her. She kept wiping away her tears, but they were quickly replaced by new ones. “Can’t you see? I’m not fit to be a wife or mother,” she sobbed out.

  “That’s not true, Carol. You’re a great mother and a—”

  A tapping noise at the door interrupted Peggy’s words of comfort, making her pause and look up. “It’s Arel!”

  “It is?” Carol sniffled in a sob and turned to answer the door. “Arel, what are you doing here?”

  Arel’s face reddened as soon as he saw her. “I . . . uh . . . wanted to retrieve that ratchet set that Tim borrowed. Carey needs it to work on his bike.”

  Peggy gestured him forward. She didn’t know how to help Carol, but maybe Arel did. Tim sometimes joked about Arel being the ‘miracle man.’ After visiting Arel, Tim’s nightmares were gone. “Come in. I’m glad you’re here.”

  Arel backed up a step. “No, I’ve come at a bad time. I better go.”

  Carol reached out to him. “Please, Arel, I don’t know what to do.”

  * * * * *

  As soon as Arel stepped inside Peggy’s kitchen, he felt Carol’s mood. It was like a desolate island of quicksand, just waiting to swallow him up. But he couldn’t resist her plea for help. In fact, he soon found himself hugging her and telling her that everything was going to be okay. He’d said that to her before, and he’d been wrong. This time, he slipped in another ridiculous promise. “Somehow we’ll figure this out, okay?”

  Carol seemed doubtful. “How? I’m on an emotional roller coaster.”

  When Carol buried her tear-stained face in his shoulder, Arel instantly tuned into her energy. Its fluttery feeling reminded him of a bird he’d once rescued after it fell out of its nest. After a day of nurturing, it was able to fly away. But Carol’s unhappy state was clearly an issue that time didn’t resolve. Just the opposite. Her emotional wings were getting weaker.

  “Let’s go sit down. We can talk about it,” he said, mustering as much enthusiasm as he could.

  Carol pulled away. “No, I should go home, not burden the two of you with my problems.”

  When it came to Arel’s emotional wings, they were ready to soar at the suggestion.

  If you think that’s best, dear friend, bye-bye!

  He immediately chastised himself for such a selfish reaction. He blurted out the last thing he wanted to say. “You can’t do that. We’re your friends. We’re here for you.”

  “Arel’s absolutely right,” Peggy added.

  Carol gave Peggy a weepy smile and grabbed hold of Arel’s hand. “Thank you both so much. I just don’t know how to handle all these feelings I have.”

  “Arel always makes me feel better,” Peggy said enthusiastically.

  “I don’t know about that, Peggy,” Arel protested.

  “I do,” Peggy said as she flashed him a broad smile. “Now, let’s do what you suggested. Let’s sit down and talk.”

  Arel nodded helplessly. He knew from experience that talking wouldn’t be the first order of business. Instead, Carol would soon flood the area with her tears. And there was no escape at this point. He had to soldier on. Trying to ignore the vise-like grip that Carol had on his fingers, he led her into the living room. After she sat down next to him on the sofa, he went into an automatic mode of comforting. It was a method he’d learned after being around the babies. He patted Carol’s back gently and repeatedly. After a few moments, his mind drifted into his own troubled waters. “Believe me, Carol, I know all about feelings and how uncontrollable they can be.” After he made the statement, he realized how disparaging his tone sounded when he was supposed to offer something more inspiring.

  Carol didn’t seem to notice. She was too busy with a litany of her woes. “It’s like I keep slipping into a horrible pattern. I try not to go negative, I really do, but somehow I feel like my marriage is going to fall apart.” Her statement was followed by more tears.

  Arel had never known anyone who could cry as much as Carol. And every time she cried, he felt powerless to say anything useful. So he offered whatever scrap of encouragement he could come up with. “Don’t say that. You and Kevin have made it through lots of tough times.”

  She answered between sobs. “Kevin tries so hard, and yet I’m always saying things to him that are critical. I hate when I do that.”

  “I’m sure you’re being too hard on yourself.”

  Carol dabbed at her cheeks. “I wish you were right, but when I hear myself, all I can think is that I’m a terrible person.”

  “No, it’s not true,” he whispered soothingly. As he patted her back again, he glanced up at Peggy. She’d taken a seat close by.

  “Arel’s right,” Peggy chimed in. “You’re just being too hard on yourself.”

  Arel offered his best smile to reinforce Peggy’s statement. “Carol, I’ve always thought of you as a wonderful person. Remember how we first met online? No one could have been nicer to me. You were always sweet and helpful. And when I let you down by lying, you forgave me and still wanted to be my friend. A terrible person would never do that.”

  Carol pulled away from him, sniffled and swiped at her nose. “That was easy. But with Kevin . . . I don’t know, it’s different. He’s the person I truly fell in love with, and everything he does seems to matter more. We’ve talked about things, and he said that I’m just afraid of my past repeating.”

  Arel reached in his pocket for a clean handkerchief. As he handed it to Carol, he thought about his own past. He thought about Justina and how much he still missed her. “You always hurt the ones you love most.” His version of the old saying came out in a whisper.

  Carol sniffled again. “Are you saying that you hurt someone you loved?”

  Arel let out a deep sigh. “Yes, gui
lty as charged, but that was a long time ago. I’ve finally made peace with it all.”

  Carol started to cry again. “I’m happy for you. I’m happy that you’re not going through what I’m going through now.”

  “Oh, but I am.” Arel let out a cynical laugh as William came to mind. “More recently, I’ve done something unforgivable.” He hadn’t meant to confess his latest grievous sin. It just came out on its own.

  Carol blinked back. “What do you mean?”

  Arel didn’t want to bring his own troubles into the conversation. On the other hand, Carol needed to know that her low opinion of herself wasn’t deserved. She needed to know how low a person could really sink. He felt compelled to expose his wrongdoing. “I literally barred a person from heaven.”

  “What?” Peggy barked out the question in her loud, boisterous way.

  Arel jumped reflexively, but his confession was on a roll. He lowered his head in disgrace. “It’s true.”

  Carol reached out and reversed their positions. She put her arm around him. “Arel, please, I don’t believe it. You’ve always been thoughtful, kind and caring.”

  “You wouldn’t think that if you knew what I did to a friend.” He paused. “No, William isn’t just a friend, he’s like my brother.”

  “The person you visited in London?” Peggy asked as she got up from her chair. She pulled an overstuffed footstool over and plopped down in front of him. It was her turn to grab his hand.

  Arel tugged at his collar, suddenly feeling claustrophobic. He was trapped by his own guilt and the close proximity of the two women. He was also sharing things he knew he shouldn’t share. His transgressions were deeply personal. He tried to back track. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”

  Peggy’s hand tightened on his. “Don’t try to carry this burden by yourself, sweetie. Tell us what happened.”

  Arel’s throat started to close with a huge lump of regret. He swallowed hard as he went back to that day in London when William lay dying. They were connected in a way that he still didn’t understand. He only knew that a bond existed between them that went beyond his reasoning power. “I didn’t want to lose him. I was too selfish to let him die.”