by Matt Rogers
Chapter 2
The estate was nothing as they expected. Neither large nor grandiose it was, instead, a small house located in a small village. The countryside was exactly as they’d been told. Full green foliage, breathtaking scenery and the feeling of paradise on Earth where nature reigned supreme.
“This is it?” Philip inquired.
“Yes, lovely isn’t it? Trudy responded.
“Well, yeah, but…”
“But what?”
“Where are all the restaurants? I heard they had incredible restaurants.”
The village was more a hamlet with one main road running along the southern perimeter. Branching off were smaller pathways made of brick and stone which would be impassable by most North American vehicles. Small cars were the norm, the smaller the better. The culture was different than the States, technology adapted to the environment not the other way around.
“Should we visit them right away?”
“No, they know were here. Let’s do a little sightseeing.”
Phillip groaned inwardly for sightseeing was one of the few past-times he had absolutely no interest in. He didn’t understand his mate’s fascination with doo-dads. Any doo-dad, no matter how insignificant would undoubtedly cause her to lose all sensory perspective and stare in wonder for minutes on end at something which caught her eye. It could be a doll, picture, clothing or even some tiny plant sitting in a pot doing nothing but existing. Unfortunately for him he had no choice in the matter. Oh, he could sulk and she’d eventually notice and reluctantly leave but the consequences for doing so were something he wished to avoid. The problem he had was his memory. It could be months afterward and he would completely forget he’d acted like a teenager at a pottery convention when something would occur which would somehow, someway, bring the situation back into play and he’d walk around for a week trying to figure how it was possible for her to remember so vividly what he only vaguely recalled.
“Oh, Phillip, look at this. Isn’t it the cutest thing you’ve ever seen?”
“Uh-huh.”
He had no idea what he was looking at. It appeared to be an urn on a plate. It was white with light-blue flowers painted on its sides but there was something wrong with the rim for it was too big. He thought it could be some sort of chili-pot but the idea of using it to cook the meal seemed absurd. Besides, he might’ve been an ignoramus when it came to kitchenware but he wasn’t so stupid he didn’t notice it was made of porcelain. He racked his brain to remember if he’d ever seen a porcelain pot on top of the stove. In the oven, sure, but on top of the stove? No, he’d eaten enough to know he’d never seen one used over open flame.
“Do you think I should buy it?” she asked.
The question was difficult to answer because his brain was attempting to discern what the confounded thing was. It had a large handle on its side so it could have been a pitcher but the rim was giving him a problem. Who in the world would make a pitcher conform to the dimensions of a bucket? A pitcher poured liquid so needed a rim designed for fluid to flow from one specific area instead of everywhere at once. But the dang thing was definitely a dish so it must have some purpose in the culinary arts. And it had a plate underneath. But it was also a bit weird because it had a raised rim. He was about to ask what the confusing cooking appliance was when he had an epiphany.
“Yes, let’s buy it. It’d be excellent during football season.”
“During what?” she asked.
“Football season. It’d be perfect. We could set it down and use it during the games.”
Football, the American kind, was the great equalizer in the world of Wolves. They were aggressive by nature so the sport held a strong place in their hearts. Pain with reward was its promise and to the male half of Superior stock it seemed the ideal way to prove oneself if actual combat were disallowed. They understood why Humans no longer allowed for bloodlust, the price of medical care being what it was, so they thought football was a logical answer to man’s desire for violence.
“So you could use it during football games?”
“Uh-huh, the guys and I have been looking for something like it. Oh, we found a couple other bowls to do the trick but nothing like this.”
“You what?”
She was looking at him in a strange way. He wasn’t sure what he’d done wrong but he could tell it was something so he proceeded to explain.
“We found some other bowls. Don’t worry, we always washed them when we were done. I know what a stickler you girls are with your cookware and all.”
“You washed them?”
“Yes, and put them right back where they came from.”
“You put them back?”
“Uh-huh, every time. Well except this one time when Johnny dropped the thing but we went right out and replaced it with another.”
“I cannot believe you!”
Now he knew he was in trouble. He had no idea why he was in trouble but he knew he was. Trudy had never been one to hold her feelings inside when it came to his mistakes.
“Huh?”
“What the heck are you thinking? Are you insane?”
The question seemed a strange one because if he were insane would he even know it? Didn’t insanity involve the belief one was not insane?
“What? I don’t see what the problem is?”
“You don’t see the problem? You don’t see…? Okay, calm down, calm down, he’s just a man and doesn’t know any better. He’s just a big old lummox with the brain of a turnip. Phillip?”
“Yes, dear?”
“How many bowls did you use?”
“Um, well, all of them.”
“All of them?”
“Uh-huh, and the pots.”
“And the pots?”
“Yes, oh and probably all the coffee mugs too.”
“Have you lost your mind?”
Once again the question posed had an underlying problem with its premise. If he lost his mind would he know it?
“Uh…?”
“And all of you did this?”
“Well, yeah, we were all watching the games together and they sometimes go on for quite a while so…”
“I cannot believe this! Do you have any idea what this means?”
“Um… no?”
He was, as usual, completely confused.
“We need to replace our entire dishware! My God, I can’t believe you could be so selfish! What, you couldn’t hold off for a little while longer? You couldn’t pause the game?”
He finally had two questions he understood. He wasn’t stupid, he just didn’t speak Vampire.
“Well, we could but it’s not the same as when it’s live. I don’t know why but the excitement is so much better when it’s happening right in front of you.”
“Phillip!”
“Huh?”
“There is no justification for what you all did! None! Do you have any idea how the others are going to react when I tell them what you did?”
He really couldn’t figure out why she was so angry and responded accordingly.
“Well, I hope a little more understanding than you’re being now.”
Wrong answer.
“Understanding? How can you possibly think I would be understanding about this? It’s disgusting! Oh my God! To think of how many times I’ve used those same dishes…”
“Trudy, what are you getting so upset about? We washed them.”
It seemed like a good explanation.
“And you think that was okay?”
Apparently it wasn’t.
“Of course. Why wouldn’t it be?”
“Because of the germs you imbecile!”
Germs! Of course! Now he had something to go on. Now he could explain his way out of the situation and return to the boredom of sight-seeing.
“What germs? The dishwasher washes away germs.”
“Not those germs! Those are horrible germs, disgusting germs, nasty and vile germs.”
He was a bit perplexed by h
er reaction.
“Really? Huh, who’d of thought a little cheese and chips would be so…?”
“Cheese and chips?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Hold on. What are you talking about?” she asked.
Food, of course.
“Nachos. I’m sorry, honey, I had no idea melted cheese and tortilla chips left those kinds of germs. If I did we definitely wouldn’t have used…”
“Nachos?”
“Yeah, for our football games. We kept running out of bowls for the dip and you know how the cheese leaves that weird residue when you’re done? Well, George didn’t like reusing it so we searched around for other bowls to…”
“Phillip?”
“Yes, dear?”
“What do you think this is?” she said indicating the urn and plate.
“A huge nacho platter and cheese bowl.”
The look she gave him was filled with relief and pity. She was his mate and would die for him but at times his lack of information on certain matters was a bit tiring.
“It’s not a nacho platter and cheese bowl.”
“It’s not?”
“No.”
“What is it?”
“A chamber-pot.”
“What’s a chamber-pot?”
“A miniature toilet.”
“Oh.”
He was thinking maybe it did have a purpose after all. Maybe it would come in handy during times in a game where getting up was just a little too inconvenient. He was about to say they should definitely purchase it when he noticed the look on his mated’s face.
“We’re not going to buy it, are we?”
“Not now we’re not.”
The rest of the afternoon went as Phillip expected, he was bored and she wasn’t. She was infatuated with virtually everything she came across. The good thing, though, was they were about as wealthy as any two people could possibly get. They were in the family of LeTorque, the Elders of Third Clan and they were there to speak with another of their kind. Another who was, as they were, a breed apart.
“What do you think about this?” Trudy asked.
“What is it?” Phillip responded.
“It’s a comb, Phillip, it’s just a comb.”
“Oh.”
The day had droned on so long he could no longer discern difference between common-day items and those lost to the inventions of time. Everything Trudy produced appeared to be things they were not. A knife was, instead, a shoe-horn. A shoe-horn became an egg beater. He was about at his breaking point when an extraordinary event unfolded. They sensed her before she arrived, the shop door opened and she entered.
“Hello.”
The woman who addressed them could be nothing but Vampire. She was refreshingly awe-inspiring with brown hair, black eyes and golden skin. It was not uncommon for Wolves to make advances on Vamps even if they were mated but the deed generally was done to promote themselves up the clan’s hierarchal ladder. What Phillip saw was the exception to the rule. If Trudy were not his mate, not so beautiful herself, he could well imagine taking the woman as his own.
Trudy, for her part, knew the power beauty held. She could and had used it to her advantage. Men were the forces she controlled. They could be readily encouraged to do virtually anything she wished by merely hinting what she desired. Trudy was red of hair, green of eyes and pale of skin. She was in many men’s view the ultimate in feminine seduction. She knew her power and wielded it wisely but the woman before her was setting a new example. She hadn’t done anything, hadn’t moved since speaking ‘hello’ but the reaction of Phillip was self-evident; the woman was Superior.
“Hello” Trudy replied.
“You are Trudy and Phillip LeTorque of Third Clan?” the woman asked in a way which suggested the answer was a foregone conclusion.
“Yes.”
“Hello, I am Merri Li, welcome to First Clan.”