My whole body is trembling now, and it’s all I can do not to lean into his touch as he continues to trace my jawline back and forth. I try to lighten the moment to help me get control of my emotions. I ask, “Jack, did you just compare yourself to a buttercup?”
Jack drops his hand and steps back with a self-deprecating laugh. “I guess I did.”
Then I ask hesitantly, “But why did you feel disgust? I know I felt it coming from you.”
Jack looks away and a pained expression crosses his face. He says, “Blue, it‘s you who forgets what I am. I am a Vampire. I have the mark of Lilith on me. I see my own aura as well. Yesterday when your aura was shining so bright and beautiful next to me, I saw my aura, dark blue and ugly with its taint of black from Lilith’s hold on me. It was mixing with yours, smearing the filthy black through your aura.” Jack looks back at me with regret and anger in his eyes, but these emotions are not directed at me. “I’m tainted. I’m marked by evil. No matter how I live this life, in the end, I’m going to the Plane of Fire. My road is chosen. I’m not going to harm you in the process.”
I’m shocked. “I had no idea you felt that way,” I say, “but that’s ridiculous. First of all, I’m no holy being. I’m just a person. Secondly, you didn’t choose to be a Vampire. You haven’t killed in bloodlust. You aren’t going to harm me simply by being with me. You certainly aren’t going to taint me by sleeping on my sofa instead of the roof!”
Jack moves so quickly again that he disappears and reappears with his arm around my waist, bending me over backwards, holding me over thin air. His chest almost touches mine. It’s close enough that I can feel his heat. My heart beats rapidly. His mouth is so close to my neck that I can feel the brush of his breath. Maybe I should be frightened, but I’m not. I’m thrilled.
Jack speaks very softly, and his voice thrums through my mind and my body like the night fills the midnight sky. “Again, you forget that I’m a Vampire,” he growls. “I’m very dangerous. I live on a knife’s edge, always fighting temptation. Yesterday I was a hairsbreadth away from killing Schmidt, and I would have enjoyed my vengeance wholeheartedly. I would have relished every scream of his pain.”
Jack moves his mouth slightly so that his breath now tickles my ear. “And I am most dangerous to you. My eyes are sharper than yours. When you put that oil on your skin, to my eyes it glitters like a million diamonds beckoning me. My nose is stronger than yours. I smell your scent rushing through your veins, wafting from your skin and your feminine core. Even now the scent calls to me, telling me you want me, alluring me, begging me to taste you, beckoning to me as though you were designed specifically to taunt me.”
I gulp because I do indeed want Jack at this very minute, but I know I am a fool to do so. Jack drags his lips across my neck now and murmurs, “How much harder do you think it is in your apartment where your scent permeates every fabric and lingers in the air?”
Jack pauses, and then as if it takes great will, he gently straightens me, releases me, and steps away. “The only thing that keeps me from taking you even now is that beautiful white glow that surrounds you, enveloping you, announcing you as too perfect to ruin.”
The space between us feels huge after having him next to me so closely. I lift my arm to him. He steps back further away and I drop my arm. I say with deep heartache, “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
Jack smiles wryly. “Don’t waste your pity on me. Just don’t tempt me. I’ll stay up here and do the necessary and you should go back to your apartment and live your life. I’m a Vampire. I don’t need sleep. I don’t feel the cold. Don’t even think of me. I am nothing but a boss keeping an eye on an employee who is working on a dangerous case.” Then he steps aside and gestures toward the door. “Go. Forget all about this.”
My mind is reeling. I don’t know what to do with all this new information so fast. I slowly turn away and walk toward the door. I feel like a rubber band is stretching from Jack to me and the further I go, the greater the tension. I am almost sure it will snap and bring me back to him despite my exertions. With great effort that has nothing to do with my sore body I make it past the door and follow the staircase down to my apartment.
Forget all about this? Not freaking likely! The things Jack has just said will surely be seared into my brain for all eternity.
Chapter 46
Convening
Jack Tanner: June 1, 2022, Red Ages
I walk into Dragomira’s shop, and the familiar book stacks and shelves of gadgets meet my eye. Nothing much ever changes in this shop. Dragomira stands at the counter, absorbed in one of her textbooks as always. Her softly waving hair frames her still arresting features, and her elegant hands turn a page. She finally looks up, and her eyes lighten as she takes me in.
“Jack,” she says in her mesmerizing voice, “I see you received my message.”
“Of course.”
She looks a bit put off. “Well, I see you were in no hurry.” Then she comes out from behind the counter, quickly turns the deadbolt in the door, and flips the closed sign to face outwards. “Come,” she says. “We have much to discuss.”
She ushers me into the back room, which is an extension of the store filled with even more books and more gadgets and more dust, but no windows or sunshine or spying eyes. The room is lit with firefly lanterns. “Would you care for a drink?” she offers.
“No, thank you.”
“Well, I’ll have one.” Dragomira moves her finger in a small pattern, and a cabinet door opens obediently to reveal a decanter filled with a deep amber liquid. As she pours it into a glass, I identify by scent that it is a finely aged whiskey. With her glass in hand she sits down in one of a pair of comfortable wingback chairs next to the stone fireplace. I take the other.
Dragomira says, “Illustrissima came to visit me. Why didn’t you tell me you were sending her?”
I frown. “I didn’t. She found her way here on her own.”
Dragomira’s eyes open wide, looking for a moment absolutely nothing like a being of her great age. Then she nods to herself as though working something out. Dragomira says, “She called herself Bluebell, and I didn’t recognize her at first as the one you call Blue. Does she know who she is yet?”
This makes me very angry. “Dragomira, you don’t know who she is yet! You are jumping to conclusions prematurely.”
Dragomira’s eyes suddenly spark with a bright yellow light. “I am not the one biased here, Jack. I have been studying this for two thousand years. Over the course of those two thousand years, I have met quite a few people, and never have I come to this conclusion. So I am most certainly not ‘jumping’ to anything.”
I feel a bit ashamed. “Please accept my apologies.” When Dragomira nods briskly, I ask, “So what makes you so sure?”
Dragomira swirls her whiskey in the heavy cut crystal glass, letting the aroma waft up to her face. “Her light, of course, is so obvious. But that is not enough. I tried to delve into her mind, but that failed as well.”
I sit forward, enraged. “You delved into her mind!”
Dragomira takes a generous sip of her whiskey and leans back as she says, “I tried to delve into her mind. As I said, she is blocked. She has a thick wall around her. I couldn’t get in, which is certainly something. And you should have seen the Fairy dust swirling up to greet her when she entered. It was as though every particle was alive!”
I shout even louder, “Fairy dust! You are making decisions based on Fairy dust! Are you out of your mind?”
Dragomira huffs. “Clearly you do not understand the significance.” Then she sets her whiskey down and leans toward me, the deep cut of her surplice blouse revealing beautiful curves that do nothing for me.
“Jack, you have been watching after her so long. Have you forgotten the why of it? Pretending she isn’t who she is will only make the danger to her more grievous. You must come to grips with this. She has a role and a purpose that have been foretold for two millennia. You can’t stop it by denying
it.”
I stand, raking my fingers through my hair as I pace. I think of all the hopes and denials and fears that have been drifting through my head for the last twenty-odd years I’ve been watching over her. She is not the right one. The Shining One will not come while I still hold on to my soul. She is the Light Bearer, but she will fail. Worst of all, I will fail her. All of my doubts and fears swirl around in my head. Finally, the one I can most easily voice rips itself from my gut. “She is too young yet!”
Dragomira looks up to me with slitted eyes and says, “We do not choose the time of our calling. Had I a choice, I would have chosen it as a tender hatchling of fifteen years rather than waiting two millennia.”
I’m still not convinced. “I need more proof. Can you get more proof?”
Dragomira picks up her whiskey again and swirls it a little, examining its amber depths. I stand there with my heart in my throat, awaiting her decision. She finally looks up at me and says, “I can give her a test. Have her come to me again in two days’ time.”
A weight lifts off of my chest and I feel the tension draining from me. Surely she will fail the test. Surely Dragomira is wrong. She is just a girl with a white aura. It happens. It must happen. Just because I’ve never seen it before doesn’t mean it doesn’t happen.
Dragomira stands up and pierces me with her flaming eyes. “Jack, when she passes the test, you must face reality.”
All my lightness fades away. I run my fingers through my hair again and say with more confidence than I feel, “I will consider the value of the test, so make it true, and don’t hurt her.”
“Of course,” Dragomira says.
I wonder what she will do if Blue is the one and her millennia of waiting and studying comes to an end. I wonder what I will do.
Chapter 47
A Sagacious Gentleman
Bluebell Kildare: June 1, 2022, Red Ages
I step toward the LaRoche mansion through the beautifully landscaped front lawn with my loose, silk tunic and pants blowing gently in the mild mountain breeze. I feel so much better today. My muscles hardly ache, and my fat lip is entirely gone. My bruises are so light that I was able to dab a little concealer on them so they’re not even noticeable. Most wonderful of all, my headache has not returned.
The entrance to the grand stone building ahead is marked by a rounded top double door painted in red. It’s framed with white woodwork surrounding etched sidelights. I straighten my back, remembering Maud’s words about posture, and try not to look intimidated. Varg brushes up against me, and I suddenly feel a bit better.
The butler must have seen me walk up because the door is open when I arrive. The distinguished man raises his bushy eyebrows at Varg. I say, “He’s my constant companion and very well behaved.”
“And you are?”
“I’m Bluebell Kildare. I have an appointment to see Mr. LaRoche.” The butler nods in a businesslike manner and says, “Very well, then. Please follow me. Mr. LaRoche is expecting you.”
I follow the butler into a large main hall with a gleaming, polished wood staircase and long hallway covered in black and white marble tiles. We walk about midway down the hallway, and the butler takes a left into a room, ushering me in with him. He announces at the door, “Ms. Kildare here to see you.”
I enter and see Robert LaRoche leaning back in an enormous office chair behind an elegant, carved wood desk. The room is bordered by long, arched windows, and to my utter delight every space between them is filled with bookshelves. The inside walls are also lined floor to ceiling with books. A small staircase leads up to a loft that holds glass-enclosed cabinets and shelves, which I assume are to display collections of magical artifacts.
I step up to the desk, and Mr. LaRoche rises to greet me. He’s more handsome than I remember, perhaps in his late thirties, lean and bookish, with spectacles and a certain grace about him. He is wearing a tailored, tan linen suit that looks elegant and rich but endearingly wrinkled. It fits perfectly with his slightly too long brown hair that is raked back off his face.
I offer my hand, which he shakes with a firm, warm grip. He sees Varg and seems to accept him graciously.
We appraise each other in a friendly manner then Mr. LaRoche smiles at me. I wink at Mr. LaRoche in return and say, “You must have secret passages behind those walls. You don’t have to tell me, of course, because then it wouldn’t be a secret. But if I had a room like this I would definitely have secret passages.”
Mr. LaRoche laughs outright at this. “Please sit down,” he says with a genuine smile.
I take the seat across from him. It’s a sleek, black leather upholstered wing chair with curvy, carved mahogany arms and feet. If ever a chair were sexy, it is this chair. Varg sits quietly at my feet next to the sexy legs of the chair.
Mr. LaRoche looks around his study thoughtfully and says, “Yes, I can see why you’d think there were secret passages. It does sort of have that look, doesn’t it?”
“Yes, it does. Your home is quite old and grand.” And I think to myself that I’d bet my last dime there’s a vault behind one of those bookcases too.
Mr. LaRoche is pleased at the compliment. A smile that crinkles his eyes behind his wireframe glasses appears on his handsome face. He could be a real ladies’ man if he wanted. He says, “It’s been in the family for almost five centuries. We’ve been fortunate to be able to hold it through the worst of times with the Vampires.”
I whistle. “Not many families have been able to do that. How did you manage?”
Mr. LaRoche taps his knuckles on the wood desk and says, “Well, it was a bit of misfortune that actually worked out for us. My great uncle from centuries ago, Reginald LaRoche, was turned into a Vampire against his will. What was unusual at the time is that when he came home to the family, the family welcomed him instead of casting him out. Now, he was the third born son. Shortly thereafter, a Dark Vampire caught Jacques LaRoche, the first born son, in the garden and almost killed him. However, Reginald LaRoche heard the noise and was able to exterminate the Dark Vampire. Since then, through further misfortune, we’ve had a few more family members turned, and as a result we’ve always had a Vampire to protect the first and second born sons.”
I think about this. Since Vampires live so long, the family probably only needed a few Vampires to cover the span of five hundred years. I say, “That’s an impressive story. You took a bad situation and turned it to your advantage.”
Mr. LaRoche nods and says, “Yes. While the rest of the country was at odds with Vampires during the Bloody Era, we always had some measure of protection on the estate.”
I make a mental note that Mr. LaRoche’s comments are understated and to watch for this from him in the future. Things were actually so bad during the Bloody Era before the human and Vampire agreement that many people had reverted to living in caves and deep in the woods.
He finishes, “We came across the ocean from the Near East in 1200 R.A., so we had already owned the estate for three hundred years by the time of the Bloody Era. But the house was lost in a fire and rebuilt in stone five hundred years ago.”
I ask, “So, is that how you became interested in ancient magical artifacts? Because your own estate held some old magical pieces?”
Mr. LaRoche says in a pleased voice, “Brilliant deduction! Actually, I inherited the family’s collection, which has been growing over the centuries. I like to think that we’ve become increasingly knowledgeable over time. My specialty is semiotics. But enough about me and mine. I understand you’re intrigued by a particular piece yourself. Why don’t you tell me about it?”
I say, “Well, you must promise me that the questions I ask and what I describe to you will be held in the strictest confidence.”
Mr. LaRoche answers easily, “But of course, Inspector Kildare.”
I’m sure my jaw drops because Mr. LaRoche starts laughing at my surprise and says, “You didn’t think I would fail to do a little research on you, did you, when you are here to speak with
me for that exact skill?”
I pick at the beaded embroidery on my cuffs and say with chagrin, “Well, I guess I didn’t think you would be that interested. I was honestly afraid that you wouldn’t want to talk to me if you knew.” I look at Mr. LaRoche with a wry smile. “And please call me Blue.”
Mr. LaRoche gives me his crinkly eyed grin and says, “Only if you will call me Robert. And the rest is stuff and nonsense. I promise you I have no reason to avoid the law.”
I smile at that. “Excellent to hear, Robert. Then I’ll tell you that the questions I’m about to ask pertain to an investigation surrounding the murder of a teenage boy. The investigation is ongoing, so I can’t give you many details. I do have a sketch of the piece for you. It’s an amulet that’s quite old. I’d like to hear your version of the history of the piece so I can see if it matches what I’ve heard elsewhere.”
“I’ll do my best,” Robert says.
I hand him the sketch. He looks at it and draws a deep breath. Then his face becomes serious, and he studies the drawing in detail. He seems to have forgotten I’m in the room as he examines the picture of the back of the amulet and nods to himself.
Finally he glances up and says, “First of all, this amulet is missing a piece: the eye. Without the eye, the amulet is ineffective. Joined with the eye, the amulet is the key to opening the ancient Grimorium Cantionum Spiritualium.”
I shift a bit in my chair and say, “That much I’ve learned already.”
Robert asks, “And do you know what the book holds?”
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