From where she sat, Carol could only see André’s profile.
His eyes seemed to glisten and she wondered if he was crying but she couldn’t tell. But she was fascinated by what was happening.
André continued to say nothing, just nodded his head once in a while, while Julien talked. Finally Julien called to Karl and the three men left the room together.
Carol turned to her son. Michael sat perfectly still. He looked scared. Suddenly he bolted from Gerlinde’s side and raced after them. Now the women were alone.
The four looked from one to the other. Gerlinde asked a question in German and Chloe responded in English. “A male must be admired by an older male, or there is no movement.”
Michael,” she said to no one in particular.
“You don’t have to leave,” Chloe told her.
“But André won’t do it. He said so. He can’t. He hates me.”
“He’ll do it,” Gerlinde assured her.
“And he doesn’t hate you,” Jeanette added.
Carol looked at her and shook her head. “How can you say that? You saw what happened here. And what happened in the kitchen. That’s not love.”
“Fairy tales are beautiful, yes?” Morianna said, her voice as smooth as spun silk. “Unfortunately they reflect only parts of the puzzle of a relationship. There is more than kindness on the road to love.”
Carol shot her an angry look. “I’m supposed to let him push me around? Whenever he’s upset I just stand in front of his fist? You wouldn’t do it, why should I?”
“No one’s asking you to do that,” Jeanette said. “But you’re not going to get through to him by challenging him either.”
“But you just told me in the kitchen to stand up to him.”
“I told you to respond, from your soul. With compassion.”
Carol laughed bitterly. “This is all bullshit. He doesn’t need compassion, he needs a straitjacket. He’s insane. One minute he’s kind to me and the next ready to rip my head off. I can’t predict it. And I can’t defend myself.”
“Then stop trying,” Chloe suggested.
He doesn’t want to do it, so why should he? And I don’t want him to because the way he feels I’ll just end up like the other two, and my son will be permanently traumatized by watching his father tear his mother limb from limb on his ninth birthday. Well, I don’t care if André will do it or not, I won’t.”
“Don’t say that, kiddo,” Gerlinde said.
Carol turned on her. “And why not?”
“Because you don’t have a choice anymore.”
They talked with her longer, trying to persuade her to bypass her fear of André’s volatile nature, but Carol was unconvinced. They suggested she stop reacting to him and try to see what hid behind his rage.
“Why should the woman do all the understanding?” Carol argued bitterly.
“You’ve got to start somewhere,” Jeanette said.
“Why doesn’t he try to understand me?”
“He’s too frightened,” Chloe told her.
“He’s frightened? Well, he should be. He’s psychotic!”
Gerlinde took her to the door of the basement.
If only there were vampire psychiatrists, or even a decent tranquilizer. Anyway, you’re right, he’s nutty as a fruit cake; doesn’t know the word sorry in any language. I oughta know, sharing a house with him for over a quarter of a century. But believe me, startling as it might seem, the guy does have a warm side. You just have to defrost him, that’s all. Besides, André’s gonna do it whether you want it or not so you might as well make the best of things.”
“You know something, Gerlinde, I never seem to matter. Nine years ago I agreed to this and he refused. Now I don’t want to change but I’m being forced to anyway.”
“Yeah, life can be a bitch,” Gerlinde said. Then she grinned. “But dull it ain’t.”
When Carol reached the basement room, she found André sitting before the fireplace. He did not turn when she came in.
She switched on the light above the bed and sat down. His back was to her.
Don’t try to talk to him tonight, she told herself. But you’ve got to talk to him. Tonight’s Tuesday and Friday is only a few days away. It’s now or never.
She walked over to him hesitantly. When she came around the side of his chair he didn’t look up. His eyes were fixed on the fire but they held a dazed, far-away look and she knew he wasn’t really seeing anything in the room.
She sat on the footstool in front of him. A minute went by, the only sounds the roaring of the flames and the popping of chunks of resin imbedded in the logs. Carol nervously rested a hand on his knee. His eyes traveled from the fire to her face.
She was conscious of her cool breath, her dry mouth, the fear. She rubbed his knee a little. “I think we can work out our differences,” she said, trying to sound cheerful. His face was vacant. “I know things haven’t always been smooth between us, but I want to try. I want this to work. I think everything will be all right—the ritual, I mean. Everybody says it won’t be so bad. You’ll be able to do it.”
She had to keep control of herself so that her body wouldn’t tremble. She touched his other knee. She smiled a little. His face showed no response.
Before she realized it, he had clamped his hands around her upper arms, pulling her towards him, his fingers digging painfully into her flesh. Suddenly his face was enraged. “Don’t you dare feel sorry for me! I won’t tolerate your pity!”
Carol was stunned for a moment. But some inner voice took over and, despite the danger she knew could erupt, said, “André I don’t pity you. That’s not what I’m feeling. I’m trying to care for you but you won’t let me in.”
More emotions flickered across his face than she could identify. “Don’t!” he said. She didn’t know if he meant don’t try to love him or don’t talk or what. But gradually he eased her away from him, as though afraid that too sudden a movement on his part might trigger the violence that rampaged just below his skin. He opened his hands slowly, releasing her, then leaned back in the chair. Suddenly he looked weary. His eyes retreated to the fire. “Go to bed,” he said dully.
Later, when he joined her, she waited until she thought he was asleep. He was so still, so quiet. She started to slide a hand across his chest when his came up to block it. But after a couple of minutes she slid hers further along, stopping over his heart, and he didn’t resist. At some point his hand covered hers and held tight.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
The following night André told her, “Get dressed. We’re taking Michel out.”
They sat in the back of the limo with Michael between them until he wanted to sit by the window and Carol moved over.
Twenty minutes later they were at the waterfront where the large ships dock when they come through the St. Lawrence Seaway.
André got out alone.
As Michael turned on the mini TV, Carol asked, “What happened last night, Michael? When you left the room with André, Julien and Karl?”
The boy flipped the channel a couple of times and stopped at a rerun of the old Star Trek: The Next Generation series.
“What happened last night?” Carol asked again.
“Huh?” He looked at her blankly until his brain cleared of TV reality and he said, “Oh, they talked.” He turned back to the set.
“What about?”
“Stuff.”
“Like what?”
“Hey, Carol, look at this! These guys can disappear and come back again somewhere else.”
“Umm.” Carol watched Captain Picard and Lt. Riker materialize on a rather barren-looking planet.
“Did they talk about the ritual?”
“Yeah. I guess.”
“What did Julien say?”
“He told my dad not to worry. He said he’d teach him what to do and everything’ll be okay.”
Carol glanced at the screen. Picard and Riker were discussing what course of action to take.
&
nbsp; “What did André say?” Carol asked. She felt a little guilty pumping Michael for information but she needed to know anything that might be helpful.
“Hey, Carol, can I have a phaser? Can I, huh?”
“I don’t know if they sell them, Michael.”
“They do. We saw ‘em in the science store. Can I?”
“I guess so.”
“When can we go?”
“Maybe next week.” If I’m still alive, she thought.
“Michael, what did André say? When Julien told him everything would be all right?”
A commercial was on and Michael flipped channels. “Nothin’.”
“You mean he didn’t say anything?”
“Yeah.”
Lady GaGa! She’s a sexy babe!” He snapped his fingers and swayed to the music and Carol laughed. Then he really got into it, closing his eyes, making wild faces, really hamming it up for her benefit. “Oh, baaay beee, baaay beee, monster baby!”
Carol was in stitches, her eyes watering.
The door opened and André got in. They both slid over to make room for him.
“Sounds like a wild party,” he said, smiling.
“Oh little monster baaay beee!” Michael crooned. Carol was still laughing and André laughed too.
When the song was over, André called the driver and they sped away. He turned the radio off and Michael said, “Aw, why can’t I listen?”
“Later. First you eat.”
He handed the boy a jar. Michael sat back against the seat and took off the lid. Carol watched, fascinated.
“Don’t spill it,” André said. He put an arm across the back of the seat behind Michael who was in the middle again.
Carol watched her son drink the red gore down slowly, as though he was enjoying it the way any boy would enjoy a milkshake or a coke. She noticed André watching her watching Michael.
As Michael finished they drove over a bridge onto Ile Sainte-Hélène, a small island, and after a while pulled into a parking lot. Ahead the sky was bright with the colored lights of an amusement park. Michael showed no surprise and apparently knew they had been headed here.
The weather was extremely mild for December but Carol was surprised the park was still open.
“I’m going on The Monster alone this time.”
“Be my guest,” André said.
“And I wanna go on the Salt and Pepper Shakers too.”
“That one you definitely go on alone.”
The three of them passed through the gates of La Ronde, the amusements left over from Expo, the 1967 Montréal World’s Fair. The air was filled with laughter and music and chatter and shrieks and the smell of sweet and greasy food sizzling on grills. “It’s crowded for this time of year,” Carol said.
“They keep some of it open all year and the rest if the weather permits, or for a special occasion,” André explained.
André bought several strips of tickets and they headed for the roller coaster, Michael running ahead.
“Do you bring him here a lot?” Carol asked.
“Half a dozen times since we’ve been in Montréal. He likes movement. So did I when I was his age. I still do.”
He was trying to tell her about himself and Carol didn’t miss that.
At the ride, André handed the boy the required number of tickets. They watched him going up the steep incline and then descend, screaming with fear and delight, just like all the other children.
“Does he ever play with other kids?” she asked.
“Sometimes. He had friends in Bonn and there are a couple of boys around the corner. But we have to be careful, obviously.”
She nodded.
André bought Michael cotton candy. She was surprised.
“So he eats real food.”
“Not often.”
“Hey, André, win me one of these mirrors.” Michael was standing at a carnival-style game gallery pointing to a cheap framed mirror with a picture of Usher etched on it. He had just tried the game himself, without success.
André paid the vendor and tossed three balls into a bushel basket designed to expel them. But he tossed them carefully, with the grace of an athlete, letting the balls roll easily up the sides, explaining the procedure to Michael, and all three stayed in the basket, much to the operator’s chagrin.
André’s stayed in.
“They should make you illegal,” the vendor joked.
André turned to Carol. “Pick something.”
Carol scanned the stuffed animals. “I’ll take that,” she said. The man inside the booth handed her a silly-looking vampire bat.
André’s neck saying in a Transylvanian accent, “I vant to suck your bllloooodd.”
André laughed and grabbed her around the waist with one arm, pulling her hips into his, taking her breath away. “Later,” he told her, his dynamic energy sending a thrill through her. “She’s kinky.” He winked at the vendor, making him laugh too.
Michael complained half-heartedly, “This ride’s stupid. It’s no fun,” until they got stuck at the top.
“Turn around and sit, Michel. You’ll fall out,” André warned him.
Look, Michael. There’s the moon!”
To the left, the large blue-white globe hung in a clear sky, not quite full. It will be by the weekend, she thought. This may be one of the last moons I see.
She glanced at André. He must have been thinking something similar because the look on his face matched what she was feeling. They turned away from each other.
While Michael drove the bumper cars, she and André stood at the rail watching their son. André slid his arm around her shoulders. He’s strong, she thought. If only I felt protected by him instead of threatened. Why can’t it be different?
“Une gauche! Une gauche!” André called out, shaking his head.
But Michael turned right, trying to squeeze between two cars, colliding head on with both, trapped from behind by a third. “By the time he figures it out the ride will be over. He’ll want to do it again,” he laughed. And Michael did stay on for a second ride.
While they watched, Carol turned to André. “Do you think you’ll have any trouble on Friday?” She had worked out a different strategy—asking him his thoughts rather than telling him hers. He looked back at her. A darkness, like a solar eclipse, descended over him. He removed his arm.
When Michael got off the ride, André said, “Let’s go.”
“Aw, we just got here! And I wanna ride the Salt and Pepper Shakers.”
“Next time.” André seemed tense. “Come on.”
They followed him to the gate and then to the car. Along the way he snatched the stuffed bat from Carol’s hands and shoved it into a trash can.
“I’m gonna ride up front with Guy,” Michael announced.
In the back, when she and André were alone, Carol, feeling totally frustrated, threw her hands up in the air. “What did I do? What did I say this time that got you mad?”
He looked out the window.
“I don’t understand. Is the ritual a taboo subject? If it is, let me know.”
Still he said nothing.
“I’m just trying to find out what you’re thinking and feeling about it. Maybe I can help.”
“It’s going to be hard enough,” he said, still not looking at her. “Why don’t you worry about your part and let me take care of mine.”
“Maybe I can help you?”
“You can’t.”
“But if you tell me about the other times, maybe we can figure out what went wrong.”
His head snapped around. He pointed a finger in front of her face. “I’m warning you, Carol, get off my back. I mean it!”
“Okay! We don’t have to talk about it,” she said, backing down. “I was only trying to help.”
He lowered his hand and his voice. “You’re Michel’s mother, not mine. Try to remember that.”
They were quiet for most of the ride back but as they neared the mountain, Carol said, “Can I as
k you something? It doesn’t have to do with Friday.”
“What?”
“It’s just that I’m confused. You don’t want me to mother you but I don’t know what you do want from me.”
Redpath Crescent. “I want you in my bed,” he finally said looking straight ahead.
“Is that all?”
“Maybe a friend.” He stared out the window.
“Friends confide in each other.”
The limo pulled up the steep cement driveway. Just as they came to a stop beside the house, André turned to her. His voice was low and flat. “Stop wasting your time on semantics. It doesn’t matter what either of us want because by Saturday morning you’ll be dead.”
Chapter Thirty
“Hey, kiddo, you look like Night of the Living Dead revisited. What’s wrong?” Gerlinde asked when Carol walked into the living room. Jeanette, Julien and Chloe were also there.
I’ll been dead, that’s all. Nothing to get excited about.”
“Why did he say that?” Jeanette wanted to know.
“I guess he was just trying to be nice.” Carol stared out the window at the last of the dry shriveled leaves covering the raw earth.
“So what happened?” Gerlinde pressed her.
Carol sighed. “We were at La Ronde. Michael was on a ride. Everything seemed to be going okay then I asked André if he thought he’d have any trouble on Friday. He went berserk, as usual.”
“Boy, you sure go for the jugular,” Gerlinde said.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean tact ain’t your specialty.”
“What was I supposed to say? ‘This weekend might be a fine time for imbibing, if one were so inclined. Would you care to venture an opinion on the subject?’”
“Tell us exactly what happened,” Chloe said.
“It won’t do any good.” But Carol related the conversation, almost word for word.
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