He’d been just a tool for her, just as he was a convenience for his grandmother and sister. But, if there were others like him, he wondered if he could release himself from Olivia’s power. Even now, as he drove his grandmother home, he felt Olivia touching his mind and calling to him. He resisted the pull as best he could, feeling some protection from the ceremony and his grandmother’s presence, but he still yearned to go to her despite his anger and confusion.
Vivienne followed in her car; she had special offerings to place on Rosalie’s altar. The altar still sat in the lower living area of Christophe’s carriage house that had once been Rosalie’s space. Their grandmother didn’t ask to join them in their remembrance of Rosalie. Instead, as he opened the passenger’s side door for her, she silently nodded, kissed him dryly on the cheek and moved toward her own front door. Vivienne’s car pulled in behind his, and she gathered the flowers and other offerings she wanted to place on the altar before they entered the courtyard together and then went inside.
“Thanks again, Christophe. You are really the best drummer in town and things wouldn’t be the same without you there.” He knew his sister was sincere. While he felt jealous of how she had been given so much, he knew, too, that she’d never asked for the extra attention. At times like this when it was just the two of them, he felt close to her. He always felt like she could have done more to help him, though. Through the sweetness they shared, there was always a stream of bitterness and resentment.
He smiled in reply and said, “You know I am happy to be part of your work.”
Vivienne cleared the remains of dried flowers from the year before so she could place fresh flowers and a small bottle of Rosalie’s favorite perfume on the altar. Christophe offered her a drink, and they sat in silence for a few moments, riding out the last of the energy from the ceremony.
He looked at her after he drained his glass. “You ok if I leave you here? I was thinking about going out.” Christophe didn’t want to sound to eager, but he was having a hard time ignoring the call in his head to go to Olivia now.
Vivienne nodded. “I can’t stay long myself, but I have the key you gave me; I will be sure to lock up once I’m done here.”
He nodded. They hugged briefly and he left her there, kneeling before the altar where their mother had done her work--work that connected the women in his family and that shut him out.
As he drove to the Garden District, he thought again about his questions about Olivia and the power he’d felt coming from the other woman at the ceremony. He steeled himself against what he knew would probably happen--Olivia would put him off of asking questions as she always did.
He parked the car on Thalia about a half a block from her house. The house was typical for this part of the Garden District--large, Victorian, and recently renovated. He knew better than to just attempt to walk in. She kept the door locked and even though he spent as much time in her bed as he did his own since he had done her the favor of killing Tim Clark, she still hadn’t given him a key of his own. As he knocked on the door, he felt his irritation and impatience growing. Perhaps he could really stand up to her and get some information.
She only had to open the door and smile to shake his resolve. “Christophe,” she purred. “So good of you to stop by after your family event.” She stepped out of his way and he entered the house.
He laughed, replying, “It’s not like I really had a choice in the matter, is it?”
“Don’t be petulant, Christophe. It should be flattering that I want you to spend your nights with me when you can. Besides, we are the perfect representation in the flesh of the crossroads and of the intersection of life and death, you and I. We have to stick together.” She wound her arms around his neck, pulling his head down to her so his lips hovered just above hers. He could smell the familiar scent of her breath--Choward’s Violet Mints--and could feel the tickle of her breath on his lips. He knew that if he kissed her, he’d not be able to ask anything. He’d fall back into the rabbit-hole, losing his opportunity for who knows how long. He pushed air out of his lungs and made himself ask it before it was too late: “Are we the only ones?”
She stopped breathing for a second, air catching in her throat. That second was enough for Christophe to stand up straight and move his head so she couldn’t kiss him. He asked her again, louder, “Are we the only ones, Olivia?”
She was silent for a moment, reaching out to his mind, trying to see what spurred him to ask. She could see the crowd, and there they were, two other vampires, dressed in ritual white. She couldn’t see their faces--they were undoubtedly far better trained than Christophe, who didn’t know how to shield himself from the probing minds of other vampires. She’d left him open because she loved to read him and it made controlling him easier. She had hoped that he would not encounter others without her present. But he had.
She shook her head in response. “No, we’re not the only ones.”
“Why didn’t you tell me? Who are these others? Why can’t I go to them? Did you make them all?” Christophe was in a question spiral, spilling all of the questions he’d thought of as he packed the equipment and drove first to his grandmother’s house and then to Olivia’s in a steady stream. Once he had them all out, he sat down in one of the club chairs in front of the fireplace, his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands. He felt even more the fool to have thought they had something no one else had—that they could possibly be the only ones.
“For all of these months--you’ve let me believe I was special.” He started crying. It was an odd feeling for him, as he’d stopped feeling so out of control once Olivia had come into his life. He’d felt as if he had some control over his emotions and that he could command respect as someone powerful. Knowing she’d lied to him took that feeling of power away. He felt himself slopping back into the weak errand boy he was when she’d met him.
She poured them both a drink. “I never lied to you, Christophe. I only told you what you needed to know. I thought with your life here and because you stuck close to family when not with me the chances were you would never meet anyone else like us unless I orchestrated the meeting.” She handed him a rocks glass with dark rum in it. She preferred bourbon, but she knew he favored rum and it was a peace offering, so she went with his preference.
“And how do you know what I need?” He took a long draw off of the glass of rum. “Why is it all of the women in my life think they know what is best for me?” He emptied the glass. She could feel the anger building inside as he shifted from being hurt to being truly angry.
Olivia smiled. “I’m not just a woman in your life, Christophe. I’ve given you things no one else in your life could. Now that you know there are others, let me help you better understand our kind. You already know how to hunt, and you do that quite well. Now I have some other things to teach you.” She brought the bottle over and poured them each another drink. “We’ll start by you learning how not to alert others of your presence and how to keep your thoughts to yourself. Once you’ve learned that, we can move on to more advanced lessons. I suspect once Liz Camp returns I’ll be looking to you more and more for help with her. It’s a big responsibility, you know, what you do for me.” She was sitting on the arm of the chair now, stroking the back of his neck, calming him with every touch. She could feel his mental resistance melting and his physical desire escalating. He was so easy to persuade, even when angry.
He nodded, closing his eyes. He knew she was manipulating him, but he willingly gave in to her caresses. She claimed the kiss that he’d rebuffed before, and once their lips met the last of his resistance evaporated. She led him upstairs and when she was done with him he felt hopeful and once again felt honored that she’d chosen him as her companion and helper.
Chapter Fifteen
Afterward, as Christophe slept, she went out to feed. She, like her father, had complete control over who entered and who left her home. When she had first freed herself of the family home, or rather when Van Helsing had freed
her after killing her beloved Daniela and Sasha, she had promised herself that she wouldn’t keep anyone captive as her father had. She soon found that was a mistake, as giving her first few companions complete freedom led to them leaving her and making their own way out into the world. Over a mere 250 years or so, the few she let loose had spread across the globe. She had no idea how many her father had let slip through in his time. What she did know was that the symbiotic network of vampires and willing donors was far more vast and complex than Christophe could imagine.
She had allowed him to see only a sliver of reality so far. He knew that some of her students were willing donors; she’d initially had him feed from donors before she sent him on his first solo hunt. She’d also let him believe that the donors were simply powerless to refuse, just as he had been when Olivia seduced him. She’d let him believe until now that he was special and that was why she’d chosen him.
She hadn’t lied. She’d simply not contradicted his theory. She’d told him very little of her long history; she hadn’t needed to. He was so dejected and submissive from years of being ignored and exploited by his grandmother that he had gleefully just accepted that it was his turn and that Olivia was his reward. Now that he knew they were not the only ones, some explanation—even if it were incomplete—would be expected and necessary.
She’d chosen Christophe because of his family connections. As a descendant of Marie Laveau he didn’t have the knowledge that she wanted, but he had access to those who did. Her plan had been on course, at least until Wren lost control and killed Alex. Olivia needed to remember how it always ended badly when she didn’t keep her lovers close; even those like Christophe and Wren who were at first easily controlled quickly grew powerful enough to defy her.
While a willing donor would have been easy for her, she chose to hunt. The level of concentration needed for a successful hunt would distract her from her concerns about Christophe. He’d still be in her bed when she returned after feeding, and she could start working with him then. She wished that Wren had been less of a problem; she’d been fun and a good match for Olivia. She considered going to her and allowing her to feed, but it was too soon. She hadn’t decided what to do with her yet, so keeping her in a state of confusion and hunger was the best option. Besides, this new complication meant she needed to focus on Christophe.
She felt the loss of Liz deeply. She attended the memorial for Alex and had been overwhelmed by Liz’s grief. She could sense the depth of sorrow from the other woman, even from the farthest edge of the crowd. Liz wasn’t aware that she’d been turned yet, and she had no defenses when it came to shutting herself off; Olivia often functioned this way, as she found it easier to control those she turned if they had to come to her for help. It made them obligated to her, but it also led to resentment once they found out the truth. She worried for Liz in Mississippi, but she knew that instinct would be enough to keep her safe.
She walked to Lisa’s house, not too far from her own. It was here that she’d turned Liz months ago. While Liz worked on the murals in Lisa’s house, Olivia came calling. She knew that Liz had seen her face in her memory, and that she would let her in. She had no reason to fear Olivia. After all, she was the love of Olivia’s life, even if she didn’t realize who she truly was. Looking her square in the eye, there was no doubt in Olivia’s mind that she was her long lost Daniela.
She’d spent years looking for her. In the initial decades after Van Helsing released Daniela and Sasha, Olivia lived in denial. He’d let her go, so perhaps she hadn’t truly seen her companions reduced to dust. The book made clear that Van Helsing lied to Stoker about killing them all (and about plenty of other things). Olivia stayed in Romania for a time, hoping to find them. And then, she’d finally accepted they were gone and that her home country had little to offer her.
She’d developed her own skills of cloaking early on. She’d had to out of survival, as she feared her father would find her and kill her. Even now she wasn’t sure if she was just very adept at it or if her father simply was not looking for her. She chose to believe that she was talented. Perhaps he also realized that it was only fair she be allowed to make choices for herself. After all, his attempts to keep her safe and isolated led to their discovery by Van Helsing. First, she’d encountered Harker, and through the seduction of Harker and her father’s attempts to seduce Mina, the two women had become linked.
Mina Harker had a strong psychic bond with Olivia; Van Helsing mistakenly assumed it was with Dracula that Mina was drawn to and controlled by. Instead of bringing Van Helsing to the castle to kill Dracula, Mina brought him to Olivia instead--not so he could kill her, but so he could free her. Mina was too strong-minded to be taken easily; when Dracula attempted to turn her, she’d fought him and was eventually victorious. She fought because as his blood touched her lips, she could see Olivia, Daniela, and Sasha’s sad existence and the sorrow they felt for not choosing their lot. It was then she chose to fight him and to use her vision to guide Van Helsing to the castle to free Olivia and the others. She and Olivia hadn’t counted on Sasha and Daniela seeking death, though, as their method of escape.
The first place Olivia went when she left Romania was to England to thank Mina. By this time, Mina and Jonathan had welcomed a child into their lives; it was while Mina sat in the baby’s room, nursing her son Quincey, that Olivia made her appearance. She stood below the window in the dark, early hours of the morning and reached out to Mina with her mind, whispering to Mina to let her in. Mina came to the window after putting the sleeping Quincey in his crib. She’d lifted the sash and motioned for Olivia to join her.
She’d felt a kinship for Mina that was unlike anything else she had known. She was not sexually attracted to her; it was more sweet and pure than lust. Seeing her as a mother made Olivia realize she longed for the relationship she’d never had with her own mother; that desire drew her to Mina. The child was Harker’s--there was no doubt in her mind about that--but he was also partially her father’s child, a sort of partial sibling. Mina had been successful in resisting being fully turned, but Dracula’s blood still tainted her own--as it has circulated in her body and in Quincey’s it had created a new breed. Mina and Quincey both benefitted from the added bloodline. Unfortunately for Jonathan Harker, he reaped no benefits; as his wife and son grew stronger and aged well, Jonathan aged normally and eventually died. But his death was still years away the night Olivia came to thank her sort-of-sister for saving her.
Mina wore a chemise, which allowed Quincey to nurse easily. As Olivia entered the room through the window, Mina pulled a dressing gown on, covering the ever-so-white shoulders. Olivia felt ashamed for looking, which was a new sensation for her. Mina had incredible mental control and Olivia could feel her brushing Olivia’s glance off of her. When Olivia was able to speak, she did so.
“I came to thank you.” She spoke softly, hoping Mina would assume it was to keep from startling the baby. In truth, Mina’s presence made Olivia feel small and insignificant.
Mina nodded and simply responded with, “You are welcome. I was not a willing victim to your father, and I could see that you were not willing either. Perhaps had I not had Quincey to fight for I would have failed in my resolve. Just as your mother shouldn’t have had to die for you to live, I did not want my child to die for your father’s selfishness. It’s Quincey you should thank, as without him to live for, I surely would have succumbed.” Her hand fluttered near her throat as she thought with a slight shiver of how it felt to have the Count’s mouth on her, his mind reaching out to hers, trying to will her into complete submission. Olivia saw the break in her concentration and again blushed. Seeing those private desires of Mina’s was too close, too intimate.
“Promise me that you will leave us be; I have no quarrel with you, nor do my son or husband. My hopes in saving you were that we could form a type of alliance. Can you promise me that we are safe from your influence?”
Olivia promised.
Mina continued. “T
here are two other requests I have of you. Let Lucy alone. She is a comfort to me and allows me sustenance when I need it for my sanity. If my son requires it, which he may, she can help him as well. I can’t bear to think of becoming like Renfield and scavenging for spiders and flies to keep the hunger at bay when it strikes. Because I am not fully turned, my condition is manageable. If I turn mad like Renfield, I will surely be locked away and kept insane by the lack of feeding.” She stopped for a bit, pausing because she feared what she was about to ask of Olivia, but she knew that it was for the best.
“Finally, please go release Renfield. He is too far gone, I fear, and I know better than anyone what desperate things we are capable of when we are half-turned. To keep him locked up is torture, and I can hear his screams in my head.”
Olivia nodded. Striding over to the bassinet where Quincey slept, she reached down and caressed his chubby cheek. “Take care of him, Mina.” She turned and took Mina by the shoulders, and she could feel her tremble slightly, her mind reaching out to Olivia, wanting to be released herself, but not willing it fully for fear of what would happen to Quincey. Olivia leaned in and she heard Mina’s breath catch. Instead of providing relief, she sweetly kissed Mina on both cheeks and then, as she looked into Mina’s eyes, she began to fade like a photo developing in reverse until only her perfume remained—the smell of violets lingering in the early morning air as the sun began to rise.
Olivia kept her promises. She left the Harkers and Lucy alone, and she also let Van Helsing be. She delivered Renfield of his burden and, in doing so, for the first time she fully realized what a curse her family legacy was.
She’d gone to him immediately after leaving Mina, just before dawn’s rosy fingers fully chased night away. As she rolled into his cell through the barred window as strands of smoke, he became more and more agitated. She could feel his excitement that someone had finally come for him, and he started babbling. “My master, my master, he’s finally here! The reward will be mine. Oh, master, free me from this place! I remain devoted to you, master.” He hopped from one foot to the other, impatient with the delay as Olivia fully materialized before him. When he saw her face, he cackled madly and ran to a corner, shoving his face into it. “No, no! You’re not the one I seek. I cannot be beholden to two of you!” He sobbed in the corner, his sobs bordering on howls.
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