by Jeanne Rose
This after Adriana admitted she’d spent time with Val the night before. Staring out into the gray that followed sunset, she echoed, “Take advantage?” Merely talking about Val had started her fantasizing about being with him. Better than dwelling on their current purpose of burying Eddie.
“You know,” Irina was saying tensely. “Did he do anything weird?”
Eyes widening at the implication, Adriana shook away her distraction and turned to her friend. “Since when did you become a prude?”
“I didn’t mean that . . . well, yes, I guess I did. That and other, more dangerous things.”
Part of Adriana only wished Val had taken advantage of her. “If I had gotten more deeply involved with Val, it would be my own business.”
“Adriana, I’m serious.”
Reminded of the potential for violence she’d recognized in the man, Adriana demanded, “And what dangerous things?” Surely Irina couldn’t know anything about his temper – she hadn’t said a word about how the evening had ended. “What is your problem with Val, anyway?”
Irina made a squinchy face, then announced, “He doesn’t have an aura.”
“What?”
“An aura. Yours is usually warm. Red with tinges of gold. He doesn’t have one . . . like he’s doing something purposely to block my being able to see it.”
Unable to take her friend too seriously – Adriana wasn’t certain she believed in auras or any of the myriad other metaphysical subjects that interested Irina – she tried humoring her. “Maybe you didn’t look hard enough.”
“I’m the seventh daughter of a seventh daughter,” Irina reminded her. “I would know whether or not Valentin Kadar has an aura. And believe me, he doesn’t.”
“All right, calm down.”
Glancing at the driver, who was from the Caribbean if his accent could be trusted, Adriana realized he was watching them through the rear view mirror. She was uncomfortable that a complete stranger seemed so interested in her personal business. She tried bringing an end to the disturbing discussion.
“So he doesn’t. So he’s different. I don’t mind, okay? Now let’s drop it.”
But Irina was like a dog with a bone. “He’s different all right. Adriana, I have this feeling about him. I think he may be into black magic.”
Once more reflected in the mirror, the driver’s eyes widened.
And Adriana was becoming exasperated. “Irina–”
”Hear me out, would you? I talked to my Aunt Ludmilla about him yesterday. The mere mention of the name Kadar was enough to alarm her.”
“Why?”
“She was certain she’d heard it before in some negative context, though her memory isn’t what it used to be.”
“That’s certainly startling enough information to condemn the man.”
“Don’t joke. She was very troubled. She said she’d talk to her Hungarian friend Sofie and get back to me.”
“I don’t understand why you’re doing this,” Adriana said as the taxi pulled into St. Boniface.
“Because you’re my friend and I care about you.”
Adriana took a big breath. “Well, thank you for that.”
The exasperation faded away and she was reminded of why she liked the redhead so much. In addition to being fun and charmingly peculiar at times, Irina was warm and caring, and Adriana had always been appreciative of the fact.
The taxi stopped near the rose-bedecked gravesite where a handful of people including Louis and the priest already gathered around the raised coffin. Searching for some sign of Val, Adriana was highly disappointed.
“Omigod, look who’s coming,” Irina said, pointing to the drive on the other side of the gravesite.
Adriana wondered if she could be seeing things. Through the gray pallor of evening, she recognized her sister and Todd. “I don’t believe it.”
“I thought they didn’t know about Eddie.”
“I decided to tell Jennifer last night.”
When her sister had asked her to leave a message as to where she’d be, Adriana hadn’t expected Jennifer meant to show her this sort of support. The backs of her eyelids stung, but she was uncertain if her sister’s being there for her was responsible, or if her reaction to the reality of Eddie’s death was finally catching up to her.
“Irina, you have to promise me something.”
The redhead eyed her suspiciously. “What?”
“That you’ll keep your thoughts about Val to yourself when you’re around my sister and her fiancé.”
“But–”
”Promise.”
Looking decided unhappy, Irina said, “Oh, all right, I promise.” She jerked open the door and left the taxi, adding, “But I’m not done with you.”
Heaving a sigh of relief, Adriana settled with the driver. “Here you go. Keep the change.”
He took her money, saying, “You be listening to your friend, lady, if you know what be good for you.” Concern was etched on his weathered features. “She has the gift.”
Startled by the unexpected advice, she said, “I’ll keep that in mind,” figuring that he’d brought his island superstitions with him and so had been inspired by Irina’s commentary.
Even so, the advice followed her to the gravesite, where she forced it aside to shake the hand of the priest who’d been liberal enough to officiate at the service, and to overlook some of the usual formalities of a Catholic burial. Louis quickly acquainted her with Eddie’s musician friends, while Adriana introduced Jennifer and Todd.
“Thanks for coming,” she told them all.
Jennifer gave her a sisterly hug, and for once, Todd actually smiled at her.
“My friends and I thought maybe we could say a special last goodbye to Eddie,” Louis said, indicating the musical instruments stacked behind them. “If you don’t mind, after the padre here is finished, we could play something we think he’d like.”
Tears gathered in Adriana’s eyes. “That would be wonderful.” Having gotten her wish, knowing Eddie would not be lowered into the earth unmourned, she gave the priest a watery smile. “I guess everyone who’s coming is here.” Though, obviously, not the man who’d paid for the burial. And darkness would soon settle over the graveyard. No use in waiting. “Father, would you please begin?”
“Certainly.” He opened the leather-bound book in his hands. “Let us pray . . .”
Adriana concentrated on finding comfort in the priest’s words. Within moments, however, she became distracted by the feeling of being watched. She took a quick look at the people around her – all focused on the priest.
But her neck hair was definitely prickling.
She searched the deepening gloom, eyes passing over the spread of elaborate headstones and winged monuments. Eventually, she glanced over her shoulder and across the road. Then she saw him – a darker silhouette against the murky gray of twilight.
Her pulse leapt with excitement.
Val had come, after all.
Irina’s warning . . . the taxi driver’s advice . . . both tried to intrude . . . both forgotten in an instant.
Filled with a joy she wouldn’t have thought possible at so solemn an occasion, she turned back to the service and focused on the priest’s words, content that neither Eddie nor she had been forsaken.
VAL KNEW HE COULD NOT forsake Adriana Thorn merely because her truth had come harsh upon his ears. He recognized qualities in her that he envied. Qualities that he vaguely remembered as having had himself once.
Honesty.
Loyalty.
True caring.
The priest finished with a blessing, and three men and a woman picked up their musical instruments. Studying the small group of mourners, listening to the heartfelt piece they played over the casket, Val almost envied the man inside.
Who would mourn him?
Not that his passing was a consideration. Certainly not any time soon. Hopefully, not before he had the opportunity to make up for the dark deeds haunting him, perhaps thereby f
inding a way to save his very soul.
He stared at the striking woman, whose rich mahogany hair looked like blood pooled against the white of her jacket. A breeze swept through the old tombstones, ruffling her collar and teasing the hem of her ankle-length white skirt so that he got a glimpse of her well-turned calves. She was so hauntingly attractive that it was difficult for him to believe that she was equally kind and generous.
She is the one.
Something told him she could help him, this woman who called herself The Daughter of the Night. Even as he thought it, something that he’d believed was gone forever flickered in his cold breast. Hope. He couldn’t change the past, but the future was a clean slate, and a future with Adriana Thorn in it was certainly more appealing than the bleak existence that had become his curse.
He was drawn to her, and like a moth to a flame, he chose to chance life.
“EDDIE’S LIFE ON EARTH might be over, but now he’s with God,” the priest said, squeezing Adriana’s hands.
Eyes awash once more, she nodded. Plucking a single dark red rose from one of the baskets adorning the grave, she stroked the velvet petals as she strolled with him to the road. “Thank you for everything, Father.”
Holding his leather-bound prayer book to his side, he moved off, following the path the other mourners had taken. Cemetery workers respectfully waited in the background to finish their job, while Jennifer, Todd and Irina stood in a small knot nearby.
Stepping forward, Jennifer hugged her again. “C’mon. We’ll take you and Irina home.”
Touched that her sister was trying to make things easy for her, Adriana was also aware that Val was waiting. “Um, I can’t go just yet.”
“You can’t hang around here,” Todd said, slinging an arm around her sister’s shoulders. “It’s almost dark.”
“I won’t be alone.”
She glanced toward Val, who hadn’t moved from where she’d first spotted him. He was so incredibly handsome and virile-looking with the wind ruffling his dark hair and fluttering the lapels of his jacket. Their gazes connected, and a flush of anticipation dissipated some of her sadness.
“Is that the Hungarian?” Jennifer asked, raising a brow.
“That’s him, all right,” Irina offered, falling silent when Adriana glared at her.
“Maybe we can all go somewhere together to get to know one another.”
Surprised by her sister’s offer, Adriana hedged, “Maybe another time.”
Jennifer didn’t seem happy but she said, “You mean you’re staying? Will you be all right?”
“I’m fine.” Now that she knew she would be with Val again. “But you’ll still take Irina home, won’t you?”
Todd assured her, “No problem.”
“Thank you.” Adriana hugged her sister, then Irina, whispering in her friend’s ear. “And you . . . remember your promise.”
Heaving a dramatic sigh but no word of protest, Irina went off with Jennifer and Todd, but when she glanced back, her expression was troubled, reminding Adriana of her earlier warning. Then, sensing a presence behind her, she forgot about everything but him.
“Val,” she breathed as she turned to face him, thrilled by the longing in his gaze that matched her own. “I was afraid you wouldn’t come.”
“I almost did not.”
Thinking that perhaps he’d been as unsure of them as she – the thing that probably had kept him at bay – she said, “You could have joined us, you know. None of this would have been possible without your help.”
“I was content watching from a distance.”
She knew he meant that he’d been watching her. Her spirits soared and her heartbeat quickened. No man had ever made her feel so desirable.
Stepping closer, he frowned and inhaled deeply, his gaze settling on the rose in her hand. “The flower,” he said. “Would you mind?”
“You want me to get rid of it? Are you allergic or something?”
“Yes, allergic,” he agreed.
Thinking it was a shame – she’d thought to keep the rose in Eddie’s memory – she set the flower down on an undecorated grave.
“You look lovely, as usual,” Val said, his eyes sliding over her, warming her. “Though white is not the ordinary color for a funeral.”
“Irina said gypsies wear white as the color of mourning.” Not to mention that she’d intentionally chosen something different than her usual deep jewel tones tonight. “And angels usually wear white. I like to imagine they’ll come to carry Eddie away.”
“I am sure they will. His soul was fairly innocent,” he said, sounding as if he knew.
“You could sense that, huh?” she said as they walked along, skirting graves that sometimes dated back to the past century. Speaking of angels, many stood poised on the old monuments, some life-sized with wings unfurled and delicate arms reaching toward heaven. Even the vandals who’d chipped off noses and fingers through the years hadn’t diminished the statues’ power.
An unreadable expression on his face, Val eyed the pale figures as they passed by.
While Adriana glanced back at the workers, who had shovels in hand.
“It’s best not to think about it.”
“How can I not? It’s tragic that he died so young.”
“At least he’ll be somewhere else now . . . hopefully, a better place than earth.” He glanced over the tombstones surrounding them. “They all are. The people here have all been buried decently, have all had prayers said for their immortal souls. They are at peace.”
Such a curious statement, such a somber tone, as if he were deeply religious and in a very conservative way.
“So you don’t think anybody here had to go to purgatory, huh?” They were in a Catholic cemetery, after all.
He gazed at her for a moment, then shrugged. “I would rather not think about purgatory . . . or hell. There is enough hell on earth . . . terrible things, more savage situations than any of these people ever dealt with in their lives.”
She couldn’t agree. “Some of these men could have been killed in war.”
He nodded, remaining solemn. “War. I know it very well.”
She wasn’t certain what he could have been involved in personally, being thirty-seven or eight at the most, but she said, “I guess Hungary hasn’t had a very peaceful history.”
“It has been invaded, overrun so many times, it is difficult to keep count. Villages trembled before the likes of Mongol hordes, Turkish armies . . . who had no mercy anyway.” He had a faraway look, as if he were focusing on a vivid scene within. “People tried to take shelter from the mailed warriors who would cut their heads off with scimitars and build mountains of skulls.”
“Yuk!”
Paying no attention to her expression of distaste, he went on, his voice full of dark emotion, “Even churches offered no asylum. Women, little children, old men were dragged from behind altars. The strong and the comely were taken as slaves; the rest were tortured and killed. There was no one left to bury the bodies or to pray or to mourn. In my domain, that is why we deemed the most desperate of measures to be necessary.”
They had come to the gate leading out of the graveyard and Val paused, glancing around at his surroundings, then at Adriana as if he’d suddenly become aware of where they really were and that she still walked beside him.
While she was now caught up by the history he’d been relating so passionately that it sounded as if he could have lived in another time – the middle ages, perhaps, or the fifteenth century. “The most desperate of measures? What do you mean?”
He took her hand. “Let us go somewhere else, do something more interesting.”
“You’re not going to answer my question?”
“It is not important. I was only talking.”
Adriana started to object when she noticed Val’s clenched jaw. The man was really tense. She wasn’t certain how
they’d progressed to such a strange topic to begin with but she decided he must have studied a lot of h
istory, perhaps at some university.
“So what can we do that will be more interesting?”
“Do you still want to accompany me on a photographic shoot?” Though his eyes and the way he held her hand said that he’d prefer more personal activities. “You could use some distraction.”
Distraction. If anyone could offer that, Val could. Heat radiated up her arm and her pulse did a jig. “I’d love to see you at work.” For the first time, she noticed he’d slung a camera strap over one shoulder.
“Then, come.”
They turned onto Broadway, which looked the same as it had the night before. Only the people were different. Val gave Adriana’s hand a squeeze, then let go to retrieve his camera. Without his touch, she felt bereft. Looking around, she was also a bit uneasy, though she told herself that, no matter what happened, Val was there.
“So, what do you plan to shoot?” she asked.
“Whatever the night brings me.”
Brawlers . . . drug dealers . . . prostitutes? That’s primarily what he would find of interest on this strip at night. For some reason, those kind of people held little fascination for her.
“The night has its positive aspects, too,” she told Val as he adjusted his camera’s lens. “I mean, beyond sparkly city lights and great entertainment. Did you know most babies are born at night?”
He clicked off several shots of two scared-looking youths hurrying down the street, heads down, hands stuffed in their pockets.
“And most people die then, too,” he countered absently.
Back to death. She shivered. They might have a love of the night in common, but Val’s outlook on life in general must be far darker than hers. The scene with the taxi replayed itself in her mind, not to mention those few moments when he threatened to become violent.
What had happened to a man of apparent wealth and culture to make him attracted not only to the night, but to the seamier side of life?
Just when she was wondering what she was doing with this man she hardly knew instead of having returned home with her sister, Val wrapped an arm around her shoulders, reminding her. They were connected in some deep, mysterious way. His very touch made something inside her flower.