Alejandro puts a hand on my shoulder. We sit there in respectful silence for a minute. Finally I stand up to go. Alejandro smiles slightly at me. “You’re not like any woman I’ve ever known, Sylvia Joubert,” he says. “Women like your sister are tame canaries. You are like a falcon—soaring wild and free.”
“My sister is a good woman. She loves you.” This is and isn’t true; Aggie doesn’t just love Alejandro—she adores him as much as her new son. “Please don’t make me betray her.”
“But you feel the same way I do. I know it.”
“I do care about you. I have for a long time.”
“Then why not give in to those feelings? Why should we deny what we both want?”
“Because I love Agnes. I thought you did too.”
“I do love Agnes, but not in the same way I love you. Agnes and I have become so familiar with each other. Sometimes we sit in the parlor and say nothing for hours.” Alejandro shakes his head sadly. “In many ways we have already grown old.”
He reaches out then to brush hair from my face as he did the night before. Again I make no attempt to stop him, though I easily could. “My love for you is raw, passionate, like a fire inside me that can only be extinguished by your kiss.”
Maybe these aren’t the most poetic words ever, but they’re enough for me. I let him kiss me. I close my eyes and kiss him back. Before I know what’s happening, he’s easing me onto the ground, beside the fallen deer. “Alejandro—”
“It’s all right, Mademoiselle Sylvia. I won’t hurt you.”
I’m three hundred twelve years old but I’ve never had sex before. I’ve never so much as masturbated. Sex wasn’t covered by Mama or by the coven’s training. I’m familiar with it only distantly, from stories I’ve overheard in bars and from the details Rachel let slip during the Revolution.
I do know enough to take off my leggings. Alejandro seems to sense my confusion as he smiles at me again. “It’s all right,” he says again. “I’ll help you.”
There’s not much for me to do that first time. Mostly I just lie back when Alejandro takes off his pants and enters me. I close my eyes, feeling him inside of me. I find myself seeing not Alejandro, but Henri in my mind. This is what Henri and I would have done had he lived. We would have come out here and we would have made love like this, though probably more awkwardly. I reach out with one hand, touching Alejandro’s cheek and then his hair; in my mind it’s still Henri.
Like a gentleman, Alejandro lets me come first. The moment is almost like the first time my powers came to me; I hear music. With my eyes closed I see the music too. It’s so beautiful, so pure. I shriek like a dying vampire and hear startled birds scattering for cover. Then the music fades and I feel a tiny explosion inside of me. Opening my eyes, I see Alejandro with his eyes rolled back, his face captured in ecstasy.
We lie by the deer carcass for a while, Alejandro holding me and stroking my hair as if I’m a pet dog. Maybe I am his pet, but at the moment I don’t care. Alejandro loves me and I love him, though I know I shouldn’t.
“We can’t do this again,” I whisper to him.
“I understand. You love your sister.”
“She’s all I have.”
“No,” he says and smiles at me. “You have me.”
I kiss him, knowing I’ll never be able to resist him. I am as helpless as a deer with a bolt caught in its neck.
***
Alejandro and I make love eleven more times during the next two weeks. During this time, Aggie recuperates enough that she can finally get out of bed and walk around without any pain. I volunteer to get a Restoration potion, but she waves this idea away. “I didn’t need one for the other two,” she says. “Besides, Alejandro will worry if I’m unconscious for a day.”
I’m not entirely sure about this, but I don’t say anything. Aggie doesn’t seem to have any feelings about my betrayal. Nor does she seem suspicious of the fact that I can’t look her in the eye after that first time in the forest. To her I’m her supportive baby sister and Alejandro her magnificent husband.
Perhaps the worst part is watching Aggie eat the venison from the deer I slaughtered. I want to break down into sobs when she says, “That’s so thoughtful of you, dear. Some fresh meat would certainly be lovely.”
Alejandro gives nothing away, patting my shoulder. “Your sister has become quite a little huntress since last we met. She’s even promised to let me keep the antlers for the boys.”
“I’m sure they’d love that, but don’t you think those antlers are a bit sharp?”
“We can do something about that,” I say.
To help distract myself, I spend days stuffing and mounting the deer’s head. Aggie has some glass beads I can use for the eyes and Mr. Devereaux lets me use some of his tools. As I work, I try to think of a way to tell Aggie, to end this once and for all. I know she’ll forgive me eventually; I’ll have centuries to make amends.
Yet every time I’m alone with Aggie, I can’t bring myself to tell her what I’ve done—what I’m doing. I try telling myself that it’s because of her weakened condition or that I don’t want to ruin her reputation. In reality, I don’t say anything because I want to keep fucking Alejandro in the forest, desecrating the place where Henri and I kissed.
The last time Alejandro and I make love, as we’re lying spent in the grass, I say for what seems like the hundredth time, “We have to stop this.”
“Why? Agnes isn’t going to find out.”
“She will eventually. She’s not stupid.” No, Aggie isn’t stupid—she’s just trusting. She always has been. That’s why Sophie never told her about our true origin and why I haven’t either. That’s why she’s never put the pieces together on her own and has remained so loyal to Glenda through the years.
Though Aggie has lived a long time and seen the world, the vast majority of her life she’s spent here. She didn’t have her heart broken by the Revolution; she didn’t see the headless bodies driven through the streets. She hasn’t seen the grim underbelly of the world to understand what people are capable of—including people who love her. In that way she’s still as innocent and naïve as her newborn son.
I take Alejandro’s arm and look him in the eye, pleading with him. “When she finds out, it’s going to destroy her. That’s why we have to stop now.”
“Sylvia—”
“Now that she’s recovered and Luc is doing well, I’ll be going.”
“You can’t go now. The boys will be home in another couple of weeks. They would love to have you around. So would Agnes.”
“And you?”
“I think you know that already.”
I nod. It’s tempting to stay here longer, to meet Mathieu and Marcus, my other nephews. I could relate my stories of Transylvania and Romania and the Black Forest to them at night. I imagine their tiny faces flushed with excitement as they hang on my every word. We could go out into the forest and I could teach them how to track and hunt properly. Maybe that would give me a new sense of purpose. Maybe I could be domesticated.
But looking into Alejandro’s eyes, I know he’s the real reason I want to stay. I want to stay so we can keep making love out here. When the weather turns cold, we can go out to the stables or somewhere else on the estate where Aggie won’t find us. But how long can we truly live like that before she finds out?
“It’s better for all of us if I go now, before someone gets hurt.”
“If you leave, you’ll hurt me,” he says. “And yourself.”
“I know, but this couldn’t go on forever. We both know that.”
I want him to deny this and to say that it could go on forever, that we could find a way to be together. Instead, he only nods to me. “Yes, I suppose you’re right.” He smiles again and puts a finger on my chin. “I’ll never forget you, Mademoiselle Sylvia. You are truly a wonder.”
“I won’t forget you either,” I say.
Aggie is of course broken up over my departure. “But why?” she says and the
baby begins to wail, as if attuned to her moods. She picks Luc up and cradles him in her arms. More softly, she says, “I thought we were getting along so well.”
“We are. It’s just that I have things to do. I have my own life.”
“What sort of life is it? Killing monsters and selling guns? It’s dangerous.” There are tears in her eyes as she says, “You said how much you liked working on that farm in Germany. Why not stay here and work on our farm? We could buy some dairy cows—”
“Agnes, please.” I look down at my feet as I lie to her. “This isn’t my home anymore. This is your house. It’s your family’s house.”
“You’re part of my family.”
“No, not in that way. I need my own place. I need to be independent. You know that.”
“Yes,” she says in a tiny voice. “I suppose I do.”
She sets Luc down so we can hug. “Can you at least come back for Christmas? I promise I won’t make you wear that red dress again.”
I can’t help but laugh at this, trying to imagine myself in such a dress with the stupid bow in my hair again. “It’s a deal.”
“Just don’t bring the children any weapons. Alejandro and I are trying to raise them to be proper young gentlemen.”
She sounds so much like Mama that again I have to laugh. “I won’t. I’ll bring them something nice and safe.”
We hug one last time. “Take care of yourself, dear. Don’t let Glenda send you anywhere too dangerous.”
“I won’t.” A half hour later I’ve packed up and go to the front door. Alejandro is there to kiss my hand as he did when we first met. I blush at this.
“Farewell, Mademoiselle Sylvia,” he says. “Are you certain you don’t need a ride into town? I would be happy to drive you.”
“I’ll be fine. I like to walk.”
“If you wish. We look forward to seeing you again for the holidays.”
“So do I.” I resist the urge to kiss him right there in front of Aggie. Instead, I only nod to them and then start down the path. At the gate I turn to look back and see them still standing there: Alejandro next to Aggie with the baby in her arms. They look so much like a happy family in a portrait.
I know I can’t come back for Christmas or ever again, not while Alejandro is still around. I have to protect that happy family—Aggie’s dream.
Chapter 28
The arms trade hasn’t changed that much since the Revolution. It’s still about being able to make the right contacts and offer what they want securely and at a reasonable price. The only wrinkle is that some of my older contacts think Sylvia Joubert is about fifty years old by now. I could make myself that old if I want, but I don’t want to go back and forth with my age. Instead, I tell these people that I’m Sylvia’s niece Sandra. I use the same alias with my ships and crews, though it’s unlikely any will remember the old me.
The captain of the freighter bound for Egypt is named Jean-Paul St. Pierre. He knocks on the door to my tiny stateroom. “Are you all right, mademoiselle? Do you need any assistance?”
On any other voyage that’s my first time with a crew, I’m always eager to get on deck and help with the sails to prove that I’m not just some empty-headed girl. This time I’ve stayed inside since we left Edinburgh, most of that time spent throwing up into my chamber pot. Unlike Henri, I’ve never had a problem with seasickness, not even during the roughest storms.
“Mademoiselle—?”
I respond by throwing up again. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. Maybe I’ve come down with a fever. I’m sure Aggie has a potion that would work on seasickness, or if not she could brew something up. That would mean I’d have to vanish myself back home and listen to another lecture about how I should choose occupations safer and more sedate. Mathieu, Marcus, and Luc would then burst in to hound me for stories and presents.
And Alejandro would probably be there as well. Two weeks should be more than enough time for him to get back from Naples—unless his ship ran into trouble. We would exchange pleasantries and then at the first possible moment we’d go out to the forest for another fuck.
This prompts me to throw up yet again. All that’s coming out now is yellow bile, since I’ve hardly eaten anything in two days. I find a towel that’s stained with bile and then wipe around my mouth as best I can. Forcing myself to my feet, I go to the door, not caring if Captain St. Pierre sees me in my nightgown and with my hair a tangled mess.
His eyes widen for a moment, but he quickly composes himself. “I’m sorry to disturb you Mademoiselle Joubert. Have you taken ill?”
“I’m just feeling a little seasick.”
“Yes, of course. Is this your first voyage?”
“No.”
“There is not a physician on board, but perhaps we could stop at the next port and find one for you?”
“No, let’s just try to get to Alexandria as quick as we can.”
“If you wish, but—”
“That’s what I wish. Now if you don’t mind, I’d like to get back to my bed. Please don’t disturb me again unless you smell me rotting away in here. Is that clear?”
“Yes, Mademoiselle—”
“And address me as Madam Joubert, please. I’m not a child.” I shut the door in his face and then go to the window with my chamber pot to dump it over the side. I know I was too harsh with the captain, but at the moment I’m too tired to care. Sinking down on my bed, I turn to face the wall with the chamber pot pressed to my stomach.
I don’t feel much better over the next three days it takes Captain St. Pierre to get the ship to Alexandria. There are stretches—usually in the afternoon—where I feel only tired. I manage to nibble on some of the crusty bread Captain St. Pierre has someone slide beneath the door, as if I’m a prisoner. By the morning, I feel ready to die again, filling my chamber pot and staining the front of my nightgowns.
I’m too tired and nauseous to put up a fuss when the captain insists on having a boy walk me down the gangplank. I wait until the boy lets me go to turn and vomit into the harbor. I reach into a pocket for a coin to give the boy. “Call a carriage for me, would you?”
Ordinarily I would insist on walking to the meeting place, but there’s no way I can make it that far in this condition. Really I should just reschedule the meeting until I’ve had a few days to recuperate. But I’m still relatively new in the game—so far as people know—so I can’t afford to delay any shipments. I consider having Captain St. Pierre handle things, except that he doesn’t have my experience in these matters.
Since this is a Muslim country, I’ve set up the meeting for a public place—the local marketplace. There a woman—even a pale, redheaded woman—shouldn’t look as out of place as at a café or other business. I ask the boy to come with me so he can speak to the driver while I try to focus on keeping my stomach settled. Somehow I manage to keep from throwing up in the coach, which I take for a good sign that I’m recovering.
The boy takes my hand to help me down and I think of Henri helping me from our carriage when I first came to the family estate so long ago. This boy looks nothing like Henri, but he is kind enough to let me lean against him as we enter the bazaar. I try to take my mind off of my nausea by glancing at the various booths. There are all sorts of items from bananas to chickens to what are supposedly antiques from the ancient tombs.
The boy steers me to the northeast corner of the marketplace, where sacks of grain are piled up. This is where our meeting is to be held. I thank the boy and then study him. He can’t be more than ten, about the same age as Aggie’s middle son Marcus. His body is leaner and more muscular, from a life spent at sea. Still, I doubt the child will be much good in a fight if negotiations should break down.
I try to smile reassuringly at the boy. His smile is hesitant and wary. An orphan boy like him is probably used to disappointment. Maybe when this is over I could adopt him and give him a real home. I could raise him as my own son in Edinburgh. Aggie and Alejandro could come visit us with their children—<
br />
My stomach interrupts this daydream. I hop off the stack of grain to bend down in the corner. I reach for the pistol in my jacket as I feel someone pat my back. Turning around, I see an old Arab woman. From what I can tell, she’s not someone from the coven. “Who are you?” I say in Arabic.
“Relax, young one. I only wish to help.”
“I don’t need your help. Thank you.”
“Where is your husband? He should not leave a girl in your condition alone.”
“My condition?”
“You are with child, no?”
“No, I’m just seasick,” I tell her.
“Forgive me, young one. I thought—”
“I understand. Thank you for your concern.” The woman insists on giving me and the boy some sweetened dates to eat while we wait. I let the boy eat most of these, unable to digest more than a half-dozen before I feel another bout of nausea.
As we continue to wait, I try to think back to the last time I had my period. I’ve never been someone who keeps track of such a thing; it’s never mattered before. Was it a month ago? Six weeks? That seems right—and it would coincide with when Alejandro and I met in Venice.
***
Venice is a much better place to be when you aren’t hunting bogeymen. Alejandro took me there after I rendezvoused with him outside of his cousin’s vineyard in Tuscany. As far as Aggie knew, Alejandro was on his way back from a visit there. “What if she asks why it took you so long?” I ask him.
He only shrugs at this. “I can say we ran into bad weather or had a problem with one of the sails.” He leans closer to kiss me. “But she will not ask. She never does.”
Like many an addict, I’ve resolved time and again to stop seeing Alejandro. The longest I’ve managed was nine months about three years ago. Then Christmas came and Alejandro and I fucked three times in my bed while Aggie and the children were off shopping in town. By all indications, Aggie still has no idea about her husband’s infidelity or her sister’s betrayal.
Tales of the Scarlet Knight Collection: The Call Page 112