by Eva Alton
We emerged into a small, octagonal room with four flower-shaped windows and a huge bronze bell hung over our heads.
“This way,” he said, pointing at the nearest opening in the wall. I leaned towards the windowsill, mentally calculating the height and how many seconds it would take me to crash the concrete floor below us. Square root of two hundred feet divided by gravity... yeah, probably not much.
On the other side of the window, I recognized a slanted metal roof, which ended abruptly a few yards away.
“Come on, let’s get on the roof,” he said, tilting his head towards the unglazed opening.
“I just jumped through a toilet window earlier this evening, so I think I’ll pass. I have no wish to break my neck on those slippery tiles,” I said, wondering whether all this was an evil plan to get me killed and drink my blood afterwards. That way, I wouldn't count like a murder in Elizabeth’s statistics.
“Alba, I have been here hundreds of times, and I'm still alive.” He shook his head. “Very well, maybe not exactly alive, but you know what I mean.”
I bit my lip, trying to convince my reluctant body to jump over yet another window.
“If I die, please make sure you find some distant relative of mine to take care of my kids. I wouldn't want them to stay with Mark forever.”
“Forget Mark,” Clarence murmured, as he leaped gracefully out the window and waited for me on the roof tiles. He extended his hand, and I seized it. Trying not to shake, I passed one leg first, then the other.
So far, so easy.
I was standing on a freaking church’s roof, and my legs had suddenly turned into reinforced concrete. As much as I tried to step forward, they refused to obey.
“That's my favorite spot,” Clarence said, pointing at the very edge of the roof and skipping around like a ridiculously large pigeon. “Follow me.”
I sighed. “Not going to happen.”
“Come on, give me your hand.”
“Okay. Screw it,” I mumbled to myself, commanding my feet to move. Clarence’s arched eyebrow told me he must have heard me, but I didn’t care anymore about whatever he thought of my manners: in the next couple of minutes, I was going to slip and die. At least, my body would automatically rest on sacred ground―not everything was a minus.
“I forgot to tell you, I'm slightly afraid of heights,” I said, holding onto Clarence’s clothes like a lifeline.
“Didn’t you say you’d like to fly over the city like ravens do?” he said, tightening his hold on my sweaty hand. “The bird thing, as you call it?”
Yes, but I hadn’t expected you to drag me up a roof just to show me that. “Come to think of it, a verbal description would have worked just as well...”
“You can’t see the world from above and be afraid of heights at the same time. It just doesn’t go together.” He looked into my eyes, pressing my body against his as he passed an arm around my waist and held me tight. “Just trust me, Alba. You are safe with me.”
That’s not what I’ve been hearing lately.
Clarence strolled over the silver roof, choosing his footing meticulously now that he had his arm around me. I tried to step right where he did, although the only thing I really wanted to do was to lie down and weep.
Finally, we reached the furthest edge and he helped me sit down, with our feet dangling like ferns above the city.
“High places...” I took a deep breath and swallowed, fighting the need to crawl back to the bell tower. “They have always made me sick. I like to feel the ground under my feet.”
“Taking off is always scary,” he said with a nod, “but once you are airborne, all troubles become so much smaller that it becomes worth the risk.” His arm crawled over my shoulders, while his other hand held both of mine. He was cool, but it felt pleasant against the summery balminess. “Now tell your engineer brain to stop measuring the height and just take a look at this marvel.”
I snorted at his correct guess, and he gestured toward the lights of the city, which sparkled like hundreds of tiny diamonds.
“If you were a bird, which one would you be?” he asked affectionately.
“An ostrich, probably,” I grunted.
Clarence laughed so hard that I feared he would pull both of us into the abyss. “You are funny, Andersson. You make me forget how wretched I really am.”
The sight was breathtaking, with a startlingly clear night sky which allowed me to see up to my old house, the one I had lived in with my grandma on the outskirts of town.
“When we were living in Europe,” I said quietly, drifting back to my childhood in Portugal, “I visited many old churches with my parents. Some were more than a thousand years old. I liked to look at the gigantic domes and wonder how they managed to build all that without any of the machinery we have today.”
“They had time,” he said with a shrug. “That’s a scarce resource nowadays.”
I nodded, and we kept silent for a while, enjoying the secluded quiet of Magdalene Hill.
“This view is so beautiful,” I said, taking a deep breath. “Thank you for bringing me here.”
Clarence nuzzled against my head and studied me closely. “Actually, I didn’t bring you here to show you the view, but the altarpiece.”
“Oh. That one was lovely, too. Mary Magdalene. I didn’t know you were religious.”
“I used to be, although I’m not anymore.” He lowered his eyes and studied my fingers, braiding them softly. “But that one is special: she was my mother.”
I smirked, cocking an eyebrow. “Mary Magdalene was your mother?”
“No.” He shook his head, looking utterly serious. “I painted that portrait. The model was my mother, Rose.”
“Well, that must be my favorite of all your paintings,” I said sincerely. “It’s... it’s stunning.” The altarpiece had none of the hopelessness and sorrow that the rest of the canvases in The Cloister’s gallery shared. The colors were soft and airy, and Mary Magdalene looked like an earthly angel, with her long spun-gold hair and tender blue eyes.
Clarence continued talking, so quietly that I wondered whether the words were just for himself. “She was true to her name: Rose. The most beautiful woman I have ever met. Caring and gentle, so gentle... but so delicate, too. My father broke her. And then―,” his voice faltered, “―and then I finished her off.”
I leaned against his side, feeling him shake softly. “I’m sorry, Clarence.”
“It was my fault. It was all my fault.”
“Was it before you...?”
“Before I was turned?” He raked his fingers through his dark, long hair. “No. It started before that. But she died afterwards, when she found out about me.”
“I’m so sorry,” I repeated, feeling at a loss for words.
We sat there, in a tight embrace, while the car lights blurred into red and yellow lines in the distance. I wanted to reassure him, to tell him it hadn’t been his fault. But I knew too little to be certain. So I just remained next to him and kept silent until his body loosened up and slumped softly against mine.
“When I’m flying,” he said softly, caressing my hands with his long fingers, “I can still see the sun. I can admire all the beauties of the world. But I can’t touch any of them. I can’t be a part of that world anymore.”
“You aren’t missing much, trust me.” I elbowed him softly.
“Do you really think so?”
“Uh-huh.” I nodded. “Grass is always greener and so on.”
“But it is greener,” he protested, a soft smile starting to draw on his lips as he watched me intently. “And warmer. And so much more―” He nudged the crown of my head with the tip of his nose. “―captivating.”
I blushed, and I averted my eyes. “They say vampires can lure women with their charms.”
“Can we?” he said in a husky voice. “Never heard of that. But rumor has it witches can brew love potions.”
“I certainly can’t.”
“Then it must be something
else,” he murmured, and his lips drifted down my hair, nibbling softly on my ear. I felt his sharp teeth slide from my ear to the crook of my neck, and I flinched when they almost pierced the delicate skin under my jaw. He noticed my startlement and swayed softly backwards, then pressed his cheek against mine, expectant. I stared into his mysterious maroon eyes, as an electric current crawled from my core to the tips of my toes.
“Something else, indeed,” I whispered, and pulled him against me. His fangs caressed the tip of my tongue and raw energy ran through my body when he snarled with hardly contained need.
I might have been kissed before, but that first kiss with Clarence would become my true first kiss ever. I had never felt as elated as I did the moment we finally gave in to the urge which had been consuming us for too long.
Ecstatic and lightheaded, I abandoned myself to the simple bliss of just being, as my lips joined with his, and we lost ourselves in a slow, passionate kiss over the roofs of Emberbury.
Chapter 24
Alba
The following week passed in a blur, as I worked on Elizabeth’s paperwork and put the finishing touches to the electrification project for The Cloister, for which Clarence and Jean-Pierre’s help proved to be invaluable. Clarence helped me measure the labyrinthine rooms and corridors of the catacombs and put his artistic talents to use, drawing dozens of old-fashioned ink blueprints. Jean-Pierre turned out to be a surprisingly good mathematician, able to solve five digit multiplications in his head and familiar with any text on physics from Galileo to Einstein.
The three of us spent most hours of the day in the library, plotting and calculating, and Jean-Pierre’s behavior showed no traces of the Green Fairy absinthe-induced incident whatsoever. He was back to his content librarian self, drinking only wine as far as I knew, and I couldn’t but be outright thankful for it.
As for Clarence, he stayed friendly and courteous as usual, but there was no further mention of our kiss atop Saint Mary Magdalene’s church. After a couple of days, as the distance between us grew wider and only the professional conversations remained, I started to seriously wonder whether that kiss over the city had been just a product of my imagination.
Still, the way he shuddered with each of our accidental touches somehow confirmed my suspicions that he, just like me, hadn’t forgotten about it. Whenever I closed my eyes, I would relive that moment and remain entranced until somebody waved in front of my face and got me out of my daydreams.
I arranged for most of the electrical supplies to be delivered to the town house on Westside Avenue, and I started to feel like my life actually had a purpose. I wasn’t going to have a blank tombstone, after all. Ultimately, my heirs might be able to engrave something on it, something like: “herein lies the woman who brought an illegal electricity connection to a nest of vampires who didn’t really need it.”
Not too heroic, but definitely quirky.
Lillian and Alonso, the most elusive members of the clan, weren't exactly delighted about the project. They complained a few times about the unnecessary risk of exposure; but after Elizabeth gave me her public blessing―particularly once I showed her with my laptop how to read an eBook and make an internet bank transfer―they moved aside and watched the progress with respectful indifference. Francesca was as outlandish as usual, a mixture of school mistress stiffness and vampiric whimsicality, but she bent over backwards to keep my daughters entertained for hours and teach them plenty of useful things, from music to chess and even a few words in Italian. Many days we all shared the library, which meant I could spend time with the girls and work at the same time.
The most exciting part came once I decided we were done with the drawing and calculating, and I informed my small team that it was time to drill a narrow tunnel between the catacombs and the wire trenches beneath Saint Anne’s park. The vampires took happily to the digging job, and after three tries, which took them roughly a couple of nights, they managed to hit the right spot, emerging right in the middle of a wide underground trench without damaging the public grid.
“There’s one little thing,” I said, aware that I still hadn’t found a solution for a really important element during my days of planning. “There’s no way we can switch off the power in the main line, so I have no idea how we are going to connect our cables to it.”
“Why?” Jean-Pierre asked, wiping the dirt off his pale forehead. Clarence and Jean-Pierre had been working in the tunnel for the whole night, but none of them seemed tired in the least.
“Are you seriously asking me that?” I climbed up a ladder and peeked into the narrow circular opening, feeling like the worst engineer in history. Clarence rushed to hold the ladder, and I smiled at his untiring chivalry, which sometimes bordered the ridiculous.
“I don’t know, you drafted the project,” Jean-Pierre said. “Didn’t you think about that in advance?”
I was too embarrassed to admit to Jean-Pierre that I had no idea of how to solve the issue.
“What’s the worst that can happen?” Clarence asked with a concerned frown, offering me a hand to get down and leaving me as tingly as usual.
“Many things can happen, and none of them are good. We can cause a power outage in half of the city. Or a huge explosion. Or in the worst case, someone could end up dead.”
“Define dead.” Jean-Pierre smirked, his fangs white and shiny in his mouth. “I’m on good terms with Death.”
I dusted off my dirty sports shorts. “If you touch a live power line, the current will go through your body and give you a shock, which in turn will make your heart stop,” I said, matter-of-factly.
“Sounds just like the time I became enlightened in Mount Athos after six months of blood fasting and prayer. Only quicker,” Jean-Pierre said, with an unconcerned expression. “No problem, I’ll volunteer. Just give me instructions.”
I crossed my arms, still hesitant about the way to proceed. “I’m not sure. Maybe we should leave it and try to find a different way.”
I started to browse through my printed materials, wondering whether there was a way to make the connection without blowing up the whole city and us with it.
Meanwhile, my phone rang, an unknown number showing on the screen, and I excused myself to a dark corner of the catacomb halls to pick up the call.
“Hello?” My hands were dusty and left white marks all over the phone.
“Where the hell are you, and why aren’t you answering any of my calls?”
“Oh, hello Mark, nice talking to you, too,” I said, rolling my eyes and cursing myself for having picked up an unknown number call in the first place.
“The divorce papers are waiting. When do you intend to show your pretty ass and sign them?”
“I told you. On the first of July. Next week, alright?”
“You are bringing the kids. And they are remaining with me until further notice. Understood?”
I remained silent, not knowing what to say. I probably had no legal right to keep the girls hidden indefinitely, but I had no wish to hand them to Mark for him to do as he pleased with them.
“I thought you were too busy. When are you going to take care of them? When you come home at 10 PM?”
“Not your problem.”
“Oh, yes, but it is my problem. I’d like to make sure they are taken care of, and not alone for most of the day, then abandoned with a crazy man who tends to become violent more often than not.”
“Are you calling me what I think you are calling me?” Mark growled.
“I don’t know. I thought you were the expert in legal terminology.”
All of a sudden, talking back to Mark had become a bit easier. Being away from him and doing useful things for the first time in years must have a good effect on my overstressed nerves.
“Enjoy the last days of your vacation, darling,” he hissed, repeating his threat, “because the next time you see those kids, it’s going to be in their graduation photos.”
And then he hung up.
Damn. I was
still terrified of Mark, but I wouldn’t let his threats spoil the rest of my day. Pressing my eyelids together, I waited for my heartbeat to normalize before returning to the vampires.
A loud thump called my attention, and I realized―too late―that Jean-Pierre was climbing up the ladder with a pair of pliers and a bunch of electrical supplies in his pockets. He had tied a piece of metal wire to his ankle and attached it to the rock walls of the tunnel, in order to use it as some sort of makeshift ground wire. Clarence stood beneath him, holding the ladder with one hand and cheering at the Frenchman with the other.
“Wait!” I shouted, running toward them. “What are you two doing? Have you gone nuts?”
Clarence winked at me, and Jean-Pierre plainly ignored me and stuck one hand into the trench above his head.
“Ready?” shouted Jean-Pierre from above our heads.
“No!” I yelled, waving my arms like an aircraft marshaller in a futile attempt to stop them.
“Always ready, Brother Mercier!” Clarence answered, closing his fist in a gesture of encouragement. “Blow them away!”
“No, definitely don’t!” I shouted, about to die of anxiety. A heavy electric screwdriver slipped off Jean-Pierre’s hand, and I managed to jump back right before the tool hit me right on the head.
“Oops, sorry,” Jean-Pierre said, waving in apology.
“Watch out, Mercier!” Clarence protested, as he threw the screwdriver back up to him and rubbed my shoulders caringly. “Please don’t kill my favorite human! I’m still going to need her after this!”
Jean-Pierre put both hands into the hole over his head and closed his eyes, feeling the walls of the tunnel with his fingers.
“Don’t worry, Isolde,” Clarence said in a reassuring tone, “Jean-Pierre has been reading all your documents each night while you were sleeping. He says we only have a thirty percent potential for error.”
“A thirty percent?” I screamed, pulling at my hair in desperation. “That’s a darn big percentage!”