She cried out, screaming his name again and again as he ravished her, possessing her, forcing her to embrace an ecstasy she had never dared dream of.
And afterwards, as they lay holding each other, she knew exactly how her face looked because she’d seen that look before in Jeanette, that look of complete abandon.
Chapter Seven
The following night, shortly after sunset, they left the château in André’s limousine. As they reached the highway, Carol turned to look at him. From profile he was gaunt, his features exaggerated. She knew he wanted blood.
They drove for twenty minutes before he said anything.
“Sit closer to me.”
She moved over but joked, “Our contract’s expired.”
He faced her, his eyes flat pinpoints, piercing her. “Our contract expires when I say it does!”
She didn’t argue. She wasn’t home free yet.
Just like on the ride from the city, he put an arm behind her, pulling her head back. He kissed her long and passionately, running a hand slowly over her face and throat like a blind man memorizing her features, finally letting his cool finger tips rest on the throb of her jugular.
Carol submitted to his kisses, sinking into them. She entertained the fantasy of what it would be like to live with him, to spend the rest of her life wallowing in passion. The idea thrilled her and she met his desire with her own.
He’s really not so terrible, she told herself, the memory of his brutality taking second place to other, more pleasant recollections. I can change him, I know I can. He’s already infatuated. I can grow to love him, even if he has a few problems. It’ll be easy. I don’t have much to lose.
The wild idea suddenly came into her head to propose another deal. She’d stay with him for a month, see how it went. Again, she’d insist that he refrain from taking her blood and she’d have to tell him she might be a carrier. And this time too he would have to agree to nothing violent. He’d go for it, she felt sure.
They crossed the more modern bridge, Pont de Cubzac, and then turned onto the road along the harbor and were almost at the spot where the taxi had driven her to only fourteen nights before. His lips came down onto hers again, a moist insistent pressure, sending shock waves through her vagina. And when their lips parted their eyes locked.
Carol had already opened her mouth, about to tell him what was on her mind, when he said, “Don’t come back here. Ever!”
Her limbs went numb, her brain froze, her heart shattered from the coldness.
The car stopped and he got out. He did not look at her.
Without a word he shut the door and walked away quickly, heading back along the wharf.
Immediately the limo drove off. They crossed the Pont de Pierre which led to the downtown core and Carol was deposited in front of her hotel. Zombie-like, she walked up to her room, packed and checked out.
“The bill’s been taken care of, Mademoiselle. And this was left for you,” the clerk said as Carol cleaned out her safety deposit box.
Inside the large envelope she found a one-way ticket to
Philadelphia. She flagged a taxi, instructing the driver to take her to Mérignac Airport. There she bought a ticket to Madrid. The ticket to the United States she threw away.
It was three weeks later that Carol began feeling ill. At first she thought it was just a reaction to the spices used in
Spanish cooking, then she thought it might be a reaction to a perpetually broken heart. But soon she was vomiting daily and forced to find a doctor. He ran a series of tests. The results shocked her. After she pulled herself together, the first thing she did was to buy a plane ticket back to Bordeaux.
Part II
You have the devil underrated
I cannot yet be persuaded
A fellow who is all behated
Must something be!
Goethe
Chapter Eight
“Inspector LePage, please cut the pretence. I know you know who he is, what he is and how to get in touch with him.”
The detective took a drag on his Gitanne. They sat side by side on stools at the counter of a small coffee bar, at the quiet end, where they wouldn’t be overheard.
“If I could find André myself, I would,” Carol continued.
“I’ve spent the last three nights down by the docks on both the right and left bank and when I wasn’t there I was walking the streets looking for him. That’s the only reason I phoned you.”
“Why are you so interested in finding this André, Mademoiselle Robins? Less than two months ago you did not care enough to remain in the city, against my orders, to aid in our investigation of what you insisted was a murder. Now you seem to want to locate the alleged killer yourself, in actuality a man who simply tried to make your acquaintance. Is this a vigilante action or masochism?”
Carol felt exasperated. “Look, I told you, I really don’t care what your relationship with him is, what kind of deals the police have going. But I have to find him—soon. I need your help. It has nothing to do with the murder, and it was a murder, even if it was accidental.”
“Insinuating that I have made a deal with an alleged murderer is a serious accusation, Mademoiselle. But for the sake of argument, assuming I knew of this Monsieur André, why should I help you locate him?”
She’d been trying to convince LePage for the last hour and he hadn’t budged. He wouldn’t admit to anything but just asked her more and more questions. Carol hated to do it but she played her trump card.
“The main reason you should help me is because what I want to see him about is important. If I don’t find him and it’s too late, he’ll discover that you didn’t help me, and, well...”
Inspector LePage took another drag on his Gitanne, squinting to avoid getting the smoke in his eyes. She could see him contemplating the ramifications of angering a wealthy madman. It wasn’t only that what the doctor in Madrid had told her could be vitally important to André, but she also needed his help; she felt desperate. Threatening the policeman was self preservation.
“Why don’t we leave it at this?” she said. “I’ll be at the harbor tomorrow night, near the docks on the right bank, from nine until midnight.”
“A dangerous area, Mademoiselle. You take your life in your hands.”
“Thanks for your concern.” She picked up her bag and stood. “If he gets this information, I know he’ll be grateful to you.”
The policeman remained seated, continuing to chain-smoke, watching her through the white-blue haze. She knew she had him. Years of legal and theatrical training made her a shrewd judge of character. She also knew when to make an effective exit.
It was a warm May night, hot but not muggy. The sky was clear, sprinkled with stars and a full moon.
Carol wore a cool white summer dress and flat shoes. A bleached canvas shoulder bag holding essentials hung across her body. She’d waited in the shadows of a fish warehouse near where his car had been parked before. Although the street had little vehicular or pedestrian traffic, she wanted to hide. It was a dangerous area and there were probably worse things than self-appointed vampires prowling the night.
The taxi would be back to pick her up at 12:05. Carol checked her watch: 11:30. She’d been there since nine and her legs ached from standing. And she was beginning to feel discouraged. Maybe he’s not coming, she thought. Maybe LePage didn’t pass on the message. She wondered too why she hadn’t seen his car on the three nights she’d scoured the city. She also thought that what she was doing was crazy. More than likely he would just take her blood outright, which was what he had wanted to do all along. But none of that mattered very much now. She felt depressed, desperate, and the idea of dying quickly at his hands wasn’t completely unappealing.
Ten minutes before twelve the silver limousine drove up and parked half a block from where she stood. The driver killed the ignition and the lights went off. The car sat there, no one getting out.
Carol exhaled, suddenly feeling nervous. She for
ced herself away from the shadows and under a street light. She walked towards the rear of the car, her leather soles tapping loudly against the cobblestones.
The driver got out, closed the door, lit a cigarette and headed up the street in the other direction. As she reached the limo, the rear door swung open, blocking her, as though after all her trouble she might just pass on by. Carol peered inside. André sat in the middle of the seat.
“Get in!” he said.
When she was seated, he reached across her and pulled the door closed then turned on the inside light. He looked at her and she at him. There was a long pause.
“I told you not to come back here. Are you a fool or crazy?”
“I need to talk to you.”
“Get over here, next to me!”
“I didn’t come for that.”
“I don’t care why you came back.” He grabbed her arm, yanking her closer. Immediately his lips and hands were all over her. He reached up under her skirt, tearing her panties away, then pulled the dress over her head, ripping the top in the process. At the same time he was kicking his Pumas from his feet and pulling his T-shirt off.
“Don’t do this! Listen to me.”
His mouth stopped hers. Carol struggled but he was impossibly strong. He pressed her back against the seat, trapping her arms, meanwhile getting his pants down quickly. He forced her legs apart, pushing one up under the back window, the other onto the floor. In the confines of the car he attacked like a deranged animal. He ejaculated immediately but then stayed on top of her. Both of them were sweating and breathing heavily.
Carol was terrified. She berated herself for being so naive as to put herself in his clutches again. Now, she thought, he’ll probably take my blood. I’ll die here, at the hands of a demented monster who thinks he’s in a Gothic melodrama. Her fate seemed bitter and undeserved. Well, she decided, I’m not going down without a fight.
“I’m pregnant.”
For a couple of seconds he held his breath. Then he pushed himself off her saying, “Congratulations!”
He pulled up his pants and snatched at the grey T-shirt, dressing quickly. “Is this confession supposed to elicit pity or something?” He slid his foot into his left shoe and tied the laces tightly, angrily. “How could I take the blood of a pregnant woman? I told you once before I don’t feel pity.”
Carol pulled her dress over her head. “It’s yours.”
He was tying the laces of his right shoe and paused briefly but then continued. “Merde!”
“It’s true.”
He sat back and turned towards her. “You’re incredible. First of all, it’s impossible. I can’t impregnate you. Secondly, you probably just don’t want to face the fact that you’re such a slut. You don’t know who the father is so you’ve deluded yourself into thinking it’s me. But you’d fuck anything that can get it up. Nice try, though.”
Carol felt as though he had stabbed her in the heart.
Without bothering to reply she reached for her shoulder bag and pressed the door handle.
“Unlock the door!” she said coldly.
He didn’t move.
She looked at him. “You’re right, I was an idiot coming to you for help. Just let me out.”
He laughed. “Not on your life.”
She hated him so much in that moment that she burst into tears.
“Yes, now tears. I love to see women crying, trying to create guilt. But your tears mean nothing to me. We’re two different species, I told you that before. There’s no love lost between enemies. You know you’d kill me if you got the chance, which you’ll never get. But I can kill you, easily.”
Carol just cried harder, her emotions a potpourri of fear, pain, frustration and anger. “You son of a bitch!” she screamed. “You’re a delusional, pompous jerk. You couldn’t be more callous if you were a real vampire. I don’t know what you are and I don’t care. You can do what you want to me, I don’t care about that either. But you’re wrong. This is your child and I just want to get rid of it. Now, kill me and get it over with. I’m tired of life and sick of your nasty, adolescent games. I hate you!”
She collapsed against the door, swept by waves of strong emotion.
It took ten minutes for the storm to pass. Every time Carol nearly brought herself under control a new rush of pain flooded her and she sobbed uncontrollably again. But finally she was just sniffing, dabbing her eyes with a tissue, when she heard him ask in a civil tone, “How pregnant are you?”
“A month,” she sobbed.
“What makes you think I’m the father?”
She gave him a look backed by the total disgust she felt. “Because you’re the only man, not to mention the only monster I’ve slept with for over a year.”
She started to cry again.
“Even if you believe this is the truth, why come to me? You know I just want your blood.”
Carol felt so frustrated, so upset, so wild, she could hardly speak. “Because I want an abortion,” she said, her voice high with hysteria.
“So get one.”
“I can’t. I couldn’t get one in Spain, they’re illegal. I don’t know how things work in Europe. I can’t even speak the languages. I thought you’d be able to help me.”
“Go to Sweden. Or back to Philadelphia.”
“No! I won’t go back there!” she said adamantly. She felt like a little girl throwing a tantrum and could imagine herself stamping her foot.
“Then have the baby. Many single women do.”
“I can’t,” she sobbed.
He sighed. “You mean you don’t want to. Look, it can’t be my kid. And I don’t care about this shit. You’re making a big deal out of nothing. Have the baby and keep it or give it up for adoption or go home and get an abortion. You can always return to Europe, if this is where you want to be. What’s the problem?”
She felt completely alone in the world. How could she convey this? And he wouldn’t care anyway. He’d just say he was more alienated than she and he survives. She should grow up, face reality. In fact, what he suggested was perfectly logical— go back and get the abortion then return to Europe. But her logical side wasn’t functioning all that well, obviously, or she wouldn’t be here now. Her feelings, which had never been more overwhelming, confused her, drenching her in fear and loneliness, leaving her unsure of what to do or how to do it. The outcome was more tears. She hugged herself. All she seemed able to do was cry.
At some point he reached over and pressed a few buttons on the phone. She heard a beeping sound outside the car. About ten seconds later the driver got back in. They pulled away. Soon they were on the highway heading towards Soulac-sur-Mer.
Chapter Nine
André left her in the living room seated on a couch opposite Gerlinde, who put down her magazine to say, “Welcome back. Is he that good a lay?”
Carol didn’t answer. She was barely holding herself together. She felt terrible, so frightened and alone. And now I’ve probably gotten myself into a worse mess, she thought.
“You ain’t lookin’ so good, kiddo,” the redhead commented.
“Been crying? André being his usual cold sadistic self?”
Carol looked at her. She didn’t trust this one. “I’m just not feeling well.”
“How come?”
“I...I don’t know. It’s nothing.”
“Ummm.”
Gerlinde came over and sat next to her. It felt as if the temperature in the room lowered a couple of degrees. “Hey, I’m not your wicked step sister. I know I have a big mouth but there’s some sugar with the shit.” She smiled a crooked little grin. “Like a drink?”
Carol shook her head.
“It’s not blood. Believe me, if there was any spare blood around, I’d drink it myself. We’ve got some sherry.”
She stood and went to a table beside the window. From a cut glass decanter she poured the sweet amber wine into a small glass, then walked back and handed it to Carol. “Bottoms up.
Wh
atever you’ve got, this’ll cure it. I used to drink the stuff myself.” Gerlinde sat down beside her again, smoothing out her fuchsia leather skirt.
Carol sighed deeply. She sniffed the contents and took a small sip.
“See? Sherry. Honest!”
Carol took another sip before placing the glass on a coaster on the table in front of them. Suddenly tears welled from her eyes, her chest heaved and she was sobbing again.
Gerlinde wrapped a comforting arm around her and Carol found herself crying on the shoulder of a woman who, only a few weeks before, she had detested. Gerlinde stroked her hair. “Hey, what’s up?”
Carol blurted it all out.
The redhead looked stunned. “André an incubus? No way!
Listen, kiddo, it ain’t possible. I mean, André can’t do it. He just can’t.”
“I know,” Carol sniffed. “He told me that. But he’s the only one I’ve been with.”
Gerlinde just shook her head in disbelief. “Man, I can’t believe what I’m hearing! Are you sure you’re pregnant?”
“Yes. I made the doctor repeat the test.”
“Another immaculate conception!”
The door opened and André came in followed by Chloe. Carol stayed in the safety of Gerlinde’s crook. She noticed a look on André’s face that she interpreted as disgust.
“Hello, Carol. How are you?” Chloe asked, her face soft, her smile warm and remote at the same time.
“I don’t know,” Carol admitted. “Upset. Pregnant.”
“Yes, André told me.” Chloe sat opposite the two women. André took up a position across the room, as if intentionally trying to keep a distance.
“Carol, who’s the doctor you saw in Spain?”
She thought for a moment. “I don’t remember his name. Mendez—something like that. Wait! I’ve got some pills he gave me because I’ve been throwing up so much.”
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