by Lund, S. E.
As he approaches, I start walking ahead, determined not to let him lead or take my arm as I imagine he'll try to do. Although I'm wearing heels, I'm adept in them due to my years of dance and can walk at quite a brisk pace if I need to. He hurries to catch up.
We walk in silence. I keep my focus on the water, watching the gulls circle around, eating my muffin.
"So it's going to be like that, is it Eve?"
I don't reply. We walk along the waterfront, and near the lab. I'm relieved that soon, we'll part and I can try to return to a normal life. My normal life. When we reach the walkway that leads to the lab, we stop.
"I don't get you, Eve," he says and turns to me. "One minute, you're smiling with me over something amusing. The next you won't even look at me."
"I was reminded that you've taken over my life – pretty much against my will."
"You said all in."
"As a researcher interested in understanding vampirism. As someone who wants to find out the truth. Not as your personal sex toy."
"It's a package deal."
I glance at him, see the mischievous grin on his face, and have to turn my own face away so he can't see my smile. Damn him. I start walking to the lab.
"Eve, Eve, Eve," he says and grabs my arm, stopping me. He puts his arms around me and forces me into an embrace, looking around as if to see if someone might think he was forcing me against my will. He takes off his sunglasses and looks down into my face. "You like me. You really do."
I try to turn away, hiding my face from those too-intense blue eyes, but he grabs my chin and stops me.
"You want me. You really do."
I close my eyes, but in truth, I feel like a small child plugging my ears at something I don't want to hear.
"Look at me," he says quickly, his voice soft. I open my eyes with reluctance. "I'm right here. Any time you decide that you need me, you just have to call."
I actually feel dizzy standing there in his arms, his voice so strong and certain, his gaze so intense.
An abyss. That's what he is. And I'm too close to the edge.
He leans down and kisses my cheek, pressing his lips there, squeezing my arms.
When he lets me go, I walk away without a word, not trusting my voice.
"Don't wait too long," he says, just loud enough for me to hear. "If I die on some operation, it'll be too late and then you won’t have either of us."
I stop in my tracks, anger and frustration filling me. That's emotional blackmail. I turn on my heel and storm back to where he stands and when I reach him, I hit his chest with a closed fist – not hard, just to make a point.
"Don't you make me feel guilty! You aren't going to use emotional blackmail to get me to be your little pet."
He grabs hold of my shoulders and glances around, then shakes me.
"Calm down."
"No, I'm not going to calm down," I say. "I've had it up to here with this! You and your I need you Eve. You're in my face wherever I go, trying to tempt me to be your little squeeze while you fight your war. Do you really think I'm looking for heartbreak? Do you really think I'll choose it?"
I hit him again, but it's a paltry attempt.
"Eve," he says and shakes me just a bit harder. "Listen, look at me. Let me tell you about something." I try to leave, but he won't let me, pulling me back into his arms. Finally I give in and stand there, fighting back tears.
"I have a telescope, a nice telescope. I attach a camera to the tripod and take pictures of stars and planets. I took one once of Tycho's Nova with a long exposure to let in as much light as possible. It's all purple and green and red, like a giant celestial flower on acid."
I look at the water, at the birds sitting along the lampposts, anywhere but in his eyes.
"It's a remnant of one of the brightest explosions in the universe - a Type 1a supernova. It happens when a star explodes after millions of years circling another, sucking up the other's matter until it passes critical mass. The small one's a dwarf, a pretty little thing, all shiny and burning bright white. The larger one is a giant, a big red seething angry fellow."
"Look," I say, fighting against the hypnotizing effect of his voice. "I'm sure this is a nice story, but I have to go."
"Just wait. Let me finish. The dwarf," he says and turns my face to his, smoothing my hair. "The dwarf isn't the kind that explodes on its own. It's too small, but put it next to the giant, bring them together close enough and a maelstrom forms, a violent convection that pulls them even closer until they're together so tightly that the giant's mass flows into the dwarf. Eventually, the dwarf passes this critical mass called the Chandrasekhar Limit. When it does, the explosion is five billion times brighter than the Sun."
I look up at him, unable to turn away.
"Eve, if the dwarf stays alone, it never passes that limit. It slowly dies, becoming so faint that no one can even see it anymore. But when that red giant gets close enough? For a brief second, a thing of beauty seen right across the universe."
A sense of deep anguish fills me.
"But it's destroyed, isn’t it? The dwarf dies."
He sighs. "Every human dies. What counts is how you live."
"I was living before you and Michel came along," I say, but I know it's a lie.
"You were alive. You weren't really living. This," he says and pulls me closer, his lips almost touching mine. "This is living." He kisses me, pressing his mouth against mine – softly at first, and then with more passion, his lips parting, his tongue touching mine, his embrace tightening. A connection forms between us and I feel his desire for me, his need, and it makes me dizzy in its intensity. Finally, he lets me go and he's the one to turn away. He walks to the car where Vasily stands with the door open. He sits in the back seat, the door closing, the darkened windows blocking my view of him.
The morning goes slowly for me. I don't feel the enthusiasm for the work the way I did only yesterday. Julien's words at our parting haunt me, the image of the colliding stars, the explosion – it's a scary metaphor for the two of us. Part of me says to run, to call the police and enter the witness protection program, go into exile. The other part says to run to him, to lose myself in him, to feel completely possessed for once in my life – the way I thought I’d feel with Michel.
After lunch is ordered in, I say my goodbyes and promise to return, then go outside the building to find Vasily sitting there in his rental car reading a paper. He hops out of the vehicle and opens the back door, waving me inside.
"There's an envelope on seat beside you, Eve."
I pick up the envelope and open the flap. Inside is a receipt from a local printing shop, and a photographic image with fiery reds, brilliant violet purples, luminous greens all roiling together against a black background. Tycho's Nova. On the back, hand-scrawled, is a simple note:
Imagine it. Julien
I put the photograph down and watch out the car window as the streets of Norfolk pass by.
Chapter 28
“A very small degree of hope is sufficient to cause the birth of love.”
Stendahl
We arrive home in the late afternoon and my head aches so I go to the fridge for a bottle of OJ to wash down my Tylenol. I wander over to the office where Vasily sits, drinking his coffee and watching the video cameras.
"Where's Julien?"
"Meetings," Vasily replies, turning to me and smiling.
"Is this his warehouse? Does he own the whole thing?"
Vasily nods. "Has owned for long time. Before staking, he lived at monastery but has office in apartment downstairs. Now he lives here."
Outside on one of the monitors, I see a van drive up and park on the curb. Vasily points to one monitor.
"Cleaners are here," he says. "Come to clean up construction mess. Clean carpets and floors on each level."
"Should I do anything?"
"Just play piano or watch TV. They do this floor first and won't take long – maybe one hour."
The cleaners consist
of a couple of men dressed in white overalls with a large industrial vacuum and carpet cleaners. They move through the large space with amazing efficiency and then clean the carpets in the entry, which have accumulated dust from the drywalling that's been done in the loft.
While they're still cleaning, I become bored of hearing about the latest armed robbery and murders, so I turn off the television and play piano for a while, practicing Ballade like a good submissive.
Suddenly, I hear a tremendous crash from outside. I go to the row of video monitors and check out the screens. Then I see it – a car smashed into the cleaning van and the vehicle was knocked into the street, the other car's hood crumpled, its engine smoking. Someone slumps out of the driver's seat and onto the road.
Vasily grabs a cell phone off his desk.
"Let me help," I say. "I've taken first aid."
He shakes his head. "No," he dials a number. "You stay safe. I'm calling it in now. You stay here."
He leaves me alone and I go back to the video monitors and watch as Vasily and the cleaners discuss the situation on the sidewalk and someone else speaks with the driver of the errant car.
I go to the door and see that it's held open by a corner of the carpet that the cleaners were working on. I go through the empty anteroom and to the elevator. Beside it is a stairwell with a glass door and window. When I press the elevator button, nothing happens – Vasily must have had it stay on the main floor for security reasons. I try the door to the stairs, not really knowing why, but checking to see if it's open. It is.
I can't help it – I go down to the lower floor and to the door to the apartment where Julien has his office. I try the door, my heart in my throat, and it's unlocked. For a moment, I debate with myself whether I should open the door. If I do and someone's there, Julien will be angry that I left the apartment. Perhaps Vasily will get in trouble – but it really wouldn't be his fault that the cleaners accidentally left the door ajar.
I'm just so curious about Julien – this vampire who's claimed me in Michel's absence. Inside, the apartment is Spartan – just a massive open space with hardwoods and exposed brick and ductwork like upstairs. A platform bed sits in one corner, messy, unmade. Piles of papers, books, magazines, boxes, and what looked like scrap furniture lay about, giving the space a cluttered look. A telescope sits in a window.
As I stand there, a naked woman comes out of a room. A shock goes through me – at first, I think it's either a model or a drug addict, for she's tall and thin, her eyes hollow, her skin grey. Long brown hair, greasy. Dark eyes. Tattoos on her arms and one on her hip. About my age, but she looks ill, pale, skinny.
I can see bite marks on her neck and shoulder.
"Who are you?" the woman says, stopping in the center of the space.
"I'm Eve. I'm staying upstairs," I say. "Who are you?"
"I live here," the woman says.
"You live here?"
"Yeah. I'm with Mike. I'm Kate."
"You and - Mike?" I stare at the floor, my muscles tightening. "Don't you mean Julien?"
"No, you know. Mike. French guy. Vamp. With the big teeth?" She coughs, a raspy sound. "Julien's the monk. Are you one of his pets?"
A feeling of numbness floods through me.
"No." I grind my teeth, dig my nails into my palm. "I'm no one's pet."
"Oh, yeah?" The woman seems unconcerned that she's naked. "Then what's that bite on your neck?"
"How long," I say, barely able to get the words out, "how long have you been living with Michel?"
"Six months but I just got back from County last week." The woman looks at her arm, rubs it. Even from where I stand, I can see needle tracks in her arm. "The court gave me an option of rehab or 30 days, so I did the time. Forget that shit." She wipes her nose on a wrist.
"Did Michel pick you up?"
She frowns. "Yeah. Of course he did."
So that's where Michel was.
"You always go around naked?"
"Hey, it's my place. Besides, Mike likes it." she coughs again. "You got any smokes? I'm out."
"No." I shake my head. "Sorry. I have to go."
I leave the apartment, feeling numb – completely numb, my knees weak. I walk back up the stairs. Go inside. Find my shoes. My backpack. My coat.
I leave, taking the stairs. Glance out the front doors to see a crowd of people around the car, its engine flaming, Vasily spraying it with a fire extinguisher.
I find a rear exit and try the knob. It opens. There's no one outside watching the door, so I open it and leave the building.
The streets bordering the waterfront are narrow, with old deserted warehouses and buildings that have been abandoned and are rusting with age and the salt air. I walk as fast as I can, my mind blank, just wanting to escape. I get about five blocks away and go down a narrow alley and stop by a trash bin and vomit.
A car drives down the street and I wave at it, hoping that the person will give me a lift but the car drives by and the driver doesn't even glance at me.
Although I've lived in Boston now for almost a decade, I don't know this area of town well, and have no idea how to get back to civilization. I just walk towards the city center, hoping that I'll find a telephone booth or someone who will give me a ride to Boston PD. I'll ask for witness protection.
As I turn a corner down another deserted street, I see Vasily's car coming in the other direction. I duck down the alley and run, searching for a door I can enter and a place to hide. I'm sure Vasily saw me. Now it's only a matter of time before he comes for me.
I find an open door and enter an old brownstone warehouse, and am assaulted by a stench so bad I think I must be in a garbage dump. On the floor are dozens of needles, bags of trash, filthy mattresses, used take-out containers. It is – or has been at one time a flop-house for addicts.
I climb the stairs, hoping to find a place to hide, but each level is wide open, the floors abandoned and empty. There's nowhere to go but up. Finally at the top floor, I see a ladder going up to a skylight in the roof and climb up.
"Eve!"
It's Vasily. I try the skylight and it opens so I climb out and find myself on a platform about a floor above the rest of the roof, twenty feet square. An old rusting HVAC system perches on one edge. I close the skylight and hide behind the old tin housing.
It takes about five minutes for him to find me. I don't know what I was thinking – there's no escape. I sit and shiver, my coat not warm enough against the unusually cool weather.
The skylight opens and Vasily pops out, glancing around in search of me. He walks over and kneels down beside me.
"Come," he says, holding out his hand. "You must come back with me before Julien returns or there will be paying hell."
"Hell to pay," I say. "I'm not going back, Vasily. Just let me go."
Vasily shakes his head. "If I did, Michel would surely send someone to kill me. Julien too."
"Don't tell him, then. Say you couldn't find me. It was the cleaners – they left the door open, not you."
"No, I am your protector. The bucks come to me. You are in danger now because of being Michel's woman."
"I'm not his 'woman'. Kate is." I can't believe that Michel lied to me about being celibate. He kept a woman in his home and now keeps her in the warehouse? A junkie?
Vasily frowns for a moment.
"Ahh," he says, covering his eyes with a hand. "You went downstairs. No," he says and shakes his head. "You don't understand. Kate is junkie friend of Michel's. From way back, when he was working as priest with street people. He," Vasily says and shrugs. "Michel keeps her supplied with good drugs, doctors, a place to sleep so she doesn't walk streets. Live in place like this.” He points to the building. “Now that the mansion is being fixed, she had to come stay at Julien’s."
"She said Michel was her lover. Are you telling me she and Michel aren't lovers?"
"Lovers?" Vasily makes a face. "Not lovers. You," he says and points to me. "You and Michel are lovers."
&
nbsp; "Not anymore." Even as I say it, grief bites at my heart.
"Come back, Eve. You can't leave."
"Am I a prisoner?"
"Prisoner, no. Unsafe outside of warehouse, yes. Didn't Luke teach you that? Come back with me now before Julien finds out. He will punish you for this."
"I'm not coming. You'll have to drag me."
"I will."
"I'll kick you."
He leans over and grabs one foot and pulls but only succeeds in removing my shoe.
"Eve," he says, throwing the shoe down. "Enough foolishness. If you wait too long, he will come himself and then I will pay Hell. And now, I am getting mad."
"I won't come back. I'm not letting Julien claim me like some spoil of war."
Vasily takes out his cell phone and dials a number. He speaks in Russian to someone on the other line, his voice angered. It's quite a long conversation. Finally, Vasily rubs his forehead and looks at his watch. Then he hangs up, and dials another number, listens, presses buttons, and listens some more – as if he's listening to voice mail.
"You come now," he says, waving his hand at me. "Julien is out of town for the rest of week. He left message. He knows nothing – left straight from meeting. Come."
I close my eyes. I can't stay on the roof forever and Vasily's getting angrier but I can't go back willingly.
"I'm not leaving."
"Ebanatyi pidaraz!" Vasily says, stomping his foot. "That means fucking motherfucker. That means I'm getting very mad. Do I have to call Ivan and get him to bring Taser? Maybe tranquillizer gun? He was with Russian Secret Police before Vory. Do you want him to use his techniques on you? This is no game, Eve."
I wrap my coat around myself more tightly.
"I won't go willingly." I turn my face away from Vasily. "I'm not cooperating any longer. If you take me back, it will be by force."
He throws his hands up. "So be it."
Vasily dials a number on his cell phone. He speaks once more in Russian and gesticulates in an angry fashion. He snaps the phone shut and climbs down the ladder, closing the skylight behind him.