Night's Vampires: Three Novels

by H. T. Night

  I could almost picture her…staring off into space. I had witnessed her absent stare on many occasions when she would receive visions from the other side. Grandma Terese is a gifted seer, who used to do card readings for a loyal clientele that included many of Richmond’s elitists dependent on her astounding insights. She reluctantly gave up her vocation due to severe arthritis in her back and hands.

  “They will try to take you back to France,” she advised, and it sounded like she brought the phone closer to her mouth, making her voice sound like an amplified muffled whisper. “Stay with them and don’t try to handle this on your own, Txema. You know what I mean…you are your own worst enemy in getting into trouble with your stubbornness. You will need to listen this time.”

  “All right,” I agreed, knowing full well it would be a war within, to be so obedient. I couldn’t guarantee I would not be stubborn, but I also understood the gravity of my situation. “Is Papa upset with me?”

  “Upset?” she repeated my question before clearing her throat. “He and your Uncle Petri, along with Jon are on their way to Knoxville to look for you. If I call him on his cell phone, perhaps it won’t be too much trouble to turn around and come home.”

  “So they drove to Tennessee?”

  “Yes,” she said, still with the receiver close to her mouth. “He and your momma are very worried—as we all are. So, to answer your question, he is not angry…just hurt, and worried. At least when I tell them we have spoken, it should help. But your papa will be most unhappy you didn’t call him yourself, Txema.”

  “I know,” I said, softly as to be respectful. My father would definitely be the worst person to call right now. I needed someone level-headed to speak with, and my grandmother’s comments confirmed my decision to call her instead was in fact the right one. “Please tell him and everyone else that I love them very much. I love you, too, Grandma.”

  “I love you as well, Txema.”

  She sniffed, and I could tell this whole thing was really upsetting her. Yet, like the fact I had no idea two cousins had died in France last week, I knew she’d find a way to tell my parents and brothers that I was okay. She might tell them I had left the country and was on my way to France. But I felt reasonably certain she’d never mention a single thing about vampires.

  Chapter 14

  Getting back into a festive mood proved a challenge after I hung up with my grandmother. Not that I was the life of the party before then, but the reality that my family had been thrown into a panic trying to find me weighed heavy on my heart.

  Of course, my vampire friends and our gregarious host didn’t take long to get things back to the merry atmosphere they hoped for. The servants and Racco danced with the female vamps, while Garvan tried to keep me company. At times it was hard to resist his prods and persistent charms that almost got me off my ass to kick up my heels—especially since my ankle hadn’t felt that good since the school year began.

  But I couldn’t stop worrying about Peter, Tyreen, my family, and whether or not this trip across the Atlantic would be worth it. After all, if Ralu and his minions found me in Knoxville by crossing the same ocean I traveled across in a speeding yacht right then, how hard would it be for them to find me in the ‘Old World’ they were already well-familiar with?

  The wine and champagne flowed freely among us humans, and I finally had a few…well maybe six glasses of wine or champagne from midnight until shortly before dawn. Toward the end of the party, sometime around 4:30 a.m., I headed back to my cabin. Both Racco and Garvan offered to escort me there—and either invitation would’ve gladly been taken if I wasn’t as inebriated as I was by then. So I accepted Chanson’s offer to make sure I ‘didn’t tumble down the stairs’ or ‘wander on deck and fall into the ocean’.

  Just before we reached my room, navigating the hallway that seemed to spin around me, she pulled me aside, drawing close enough that her lilac scent threatened to pull my stomach’s alcohol content up through my throat.

  “I know you are afraid, Txema—afraid of so much that can go wrong,” she said, her voice low, as if she didn’t want the other vampires’ keen ears to pick up her words to me. “Regardless of what we may face in the coming days, I will not let anything bad happen to you. Nothing—and I mean no person or thing—will do you any harm. I swear this to you, as your ancestor that I am, and as the friend I hope to become.”

  Before I could respond, she disappeared. Only the draft from her speedy return upstairs remained, as a few stray pieces of paper drifted into the air and back down to the carpet runner. Just as well. I probably would’ve vomited if I opened my mouth to speak.

  ***

  When I awoke, the daylight peering in through my room’s window blinds seemed weak, as if the sun had already begun its final descent in the west.

  “No frigging way!” I whispered, disbelieving another day had disappeared.

  I jumped out of my bed and moved over to the window, pulling the blinds away. We were still a long ways from land, surrounded by water for as far as I could see. The ship swayed a little as it crashed through bigger swells than I remembered seeing the previous afternoon. I wondered if the advisement of moving between eighty and one hundred knots only applied to night travel in this yacht.

  Looking toward the rear of the ship, the sun hadn’t set yet, but certainly would within the next hour or so. The wall clock across from the bed gave what I assumed was the current time as 4:50 p.m., which could’ve saved me the trouble of looking outside if I had looked there first. Actually, just finding my damned wristwatch would’ve allowed me to come pretty close to calculating the correct time. But it was missing.

  Regardless, the fact another day had nearly slipped away really ticked me off. I ran into the bathroom, ignoring my throbbing head and my less-than-flattering appearance in the bathroom mirror. I quickly brushed my teeth and jumped into the shower, hoping I could simply rinse away my hangover and haggard look. Afterward, I hurriedly dressed in my clothes from the other day—not overly surprised that everything had been washed and pressed—and left my room. At least I looked a hell of a lot more alive now, though the hangover stayed with me.

  I planned to head straight for the stairs to take me up to the ship’s bow, where it seemed everybody hung out. That was my intent, to find Mercel, Racco, or whoever else was there—even if it meant straining to work through my pounding headache and nausea to communicate in the scant French I knew and understood.

  But then I noticed a door ajar to my left, near where the engine room sat. At first glance I assumed someone must be inside the room. If I hadn’t glimpsed the corner of a coffin, I would’ve stayed with the original plan.

  Temptation got the better of me, and I stepped quietly over to the doorway. I peered inside the room and saw a row of caskets, six in all. Each one appeared to be made of gold, and a few were embedded with fine jewels and gemstones in intricate designs.

  The daytime hideouts for the vampires. Expensive refuges which still left them vulnerable, and at their human protectors’ mercy. I couldn’t help but wonder what they looked like when sleeping. Right then might not be the optimum time to take a peek. The sun was setting, and it wouldn’t be long before my otherworldly guardians arouse from their slumber. I had a crazy vision for just a brief moment of my neck being snapped in two while I opened one of these ornate caskets, by a vampire stuck in some sort of night terror—assuming vampires dream, of course.

  “Is it not a room fit for kings and queens?”

  I whirled around, finding Racco standing just a few feet away. He must’ve quietly followed behind me after I ventured inside this ‘sleep’ chamber. Dressed in blue jeans, ostrich cowboy boots, and a red and black flannel shirt, he reminded me of how Armando was dressed the first night he accompanied Garvan to my dorm room.

  He smiled shyly, the small dimples in his cheeks and the slight crow’s feet around his eyes accentuating his rugged good looks. This man could make my heart pound hard if he tied a burlap sack around h
is waist. I believe it might have something to do with those beautiful blue eyes, seductive and yet at the same time innocent. Like a little boy and a famished lover all wrapped into one person.

  “I didn’t mean to startle you,” he said, stepping towards me, while I just stood there with an ‘I can’t believe you’re this gorgeous!’ expression on my face. Or at least a dumbfounded look hiding my erotic thoughts. A slight twinkle in those eyes told me he understood my plight. I’d bet he’s probably seen my wanton expression literally thousands of times during the past two millennia.

  “It’s okay,” I told him, removing my gaze from him to survey the upscale coffins again, doing my best to pretend my fascination from just a moment earlier was still there. The surreal knowledge that the living dead were just a few feet away still held some sway…but increasingly less and less as the ship’s host came up behind me. “They’ll be waking soon, right?”

  I said this as I turned around, the scent of an expensive musk cologne filling my nostrils and wisps of dark chest hair near his neckline attracting my attention as I avoided his gaze. He stood a couple of inches taller than me, and maybe even an inch taller than Peter. Despite my man’s boyish charm and beauty, my tenuous devotion to Peter proved to be inadequate protection from Racco’s sophisticated sexuality and mature persona. My host studied me in silence, his unspoken passion easily penetrating my entire being. The language of desire is more felt than spoken as it is. He bent his face towards mine, his lips slightly parted.

  “Does your boat have a name?” I blurted out, pulling away from the sweet allure of a kiss with an immortal man—a near-ageless human being.

  It was instinctive fear. Intimidation? Maybe. Centuries of experience versus a few years since one’s lost virginity could certainly account for that. But where in the hell did a question like the one I voiced come from? …Unless it was a random musing from my youth, like the ‘Skipper’ in my father’s beloved “Gilligan’s Island” reruns from yesteryear. The ‘Skipper’ had a name for his itty-bitty boat. So should the master of a glorious yacht.

  “We call it ‘L’Antoinette de Bleu’, or ‘The Blue Antoinette’,” he said, chuckling. His eyes twinkled with even more amusement. “I named it in honor of Marie Antoinette, whom my brother and I always found the most charming and likeable person in King Louis’s court. Aristocrats can be such a bore—”

  I reached up and kissed him. Impulsive move from a foolish teenager, though nineteen years in the modern age is much more woman than a girl. His response was immediate, his lips softly caressing mine while his rock-hard muscular chest and arms embraced me. I thought I might pass out from the exquisite sensations flowing through me as our lips danced together in mutual yearning and pleasure—so unlike any kiss I had ever experienced before.

  Racco knows women, and what all of us need. His hands, and especially his fingers, massaged erogenous zones I didn’t even know I had, sending waves of pleasure and excitement throughout my body. I’m sure an older and more experienced female would find his caress just as exhilarating, although surely knowing what to expect and how to pace one’s self to create a rapturous union. Me and my previous experience, that I now realized was far from the ‘intermediate’ level I would have described myself before that evening? Let’s just say I was filled with reckless urgency, ready to throw him on the floor and forcibly have my way with him, despite the potential audience of four vampires.

  Movement and simultaneous knocks suddenly resounded from two of the caskets—the first and fourth ones in the row.

  “Maybe this is not the best place for us, eh?” he said, snickering nervously.

  Delighted that his arousal matched my own, I tried not to let the allure of inappropriate behavior fall prey to complications which might follow. I gently stroked his face and pressed my index finger to his lips as he prepared to say something else. But before we could resume this foreplay, the noises from the caskets resumed…another one joined the disturbance, meaning we had three irritated vamps on our hands.

  “Okay…we can go to my room,” I suggested, my voice carrying a huskier edge than is normal for me.

  “No… They will be up soon, and it sounds like Chanson may not be so pleased by this,” he said. The worry in his voice sounded too amused to be taken seriously. “It may be better if we resume this at a later time. Say, tomorrow…if you can awaken earlier than mid-afternoon, perhaps?”

  A more forceful thud erupted from the fourth casket, which I assumed belonged to Chanson…or maybe Garvan, my beautiful vampire suitor? A sudden pang of guilt ripped through me as I considered the possible affect this wanton moment could have on him.

  “Tomorrow would be better,” I agreed.

  Racco motioned for me to wrap my arm inside his and we left the room together. I doubt any of our vampire companions actually awoke, although the distinct feeling of being observed and studied intently didn’t fade until we moved upstairs to the dining area. Sharing a bottle of Racco’s prized Merlot from the turn of the twentieth century we sat at a window table and watched the setting sun behind us, until it disappeared into the ocean.

  ***

  “You woke me up!” Chanson chided me, once she and the rest of our vampire entourage joined us upstairs. The last vestige of daylight had faded into near-darkness, leaving only a slight pink glow at the edge of the distant horizon to the west. “In truth, your little escapade down below roused us all before we needed to awake. There goes our beauty sleep!”

  She placed her hands on her hips and eyed me coyly, making much of what she just said a playful dig, though I detected irritation in her brilliant green eyes. Like Racco, she and her companions were all dressed in blue jeans, but she, Nora, and Raquel were attired in sweaters—cocoa, purple, and beige, respectively—as opposed to the blue and black flannel shirt Garvan wore.

  “I’m sorry,” I told her, feeling mostly sincere. As long as I didn’t linger on the fantasy of a sexual frolic with Racco. “I will be more discreet next time.”

  “It might be wise to consider someone closer to your own age,” she told me, which drew a snicker from Raquel, who stood nearby. Honestly, I would’ve never guessed Raquel was listening, since she carried on an animated conversation with Nora. “We shall talk more about this after you have had a chance to eat tonight.”

  Chanson motioned for me to join her at the table, which like yesterday afternoon bore an array of delights. It appeared this would be it tonight, instead of last night’s obscene extravagance in the other room, where far too much food covered the long table. Mercel managed a smaller bar nearby, which I assumed my ancient cousin would soon visit along with the others.

  “And don’t let either of the immortal males in attendance this evening dissuade you from meeting with me,” she continued, reaching out to take my arm like a big sis making sure I reached my destination with minimal distractions. “Believe me, they both are vying for your affections, even though neither one is suitable for you.”

  Her knowing smile reminded me that she was privy to my thoughts, since I had been thinking crazy ‘life together’ fantasies involving Racco since our interrupted physical encounter earlier. A quick glance around the room supported her words, as I caught Racco smiling at me from the bar and Garvan watching him from across the room with a disapproving scowl on his face.

  If it wasn’t fun, it sure as hell could be an interesting night.

  “Txema, come and join me and Mercel for another drink!” Racco called to me, moving over to the table and pulling a chair out for me.

  Before I replied with the ‘sure!’ I intended to give him, Garvan suddenly appeared next to him, his face drawn near to Racco’s. They both glared at each other.

  “I’ll sit over here with the ladies,” I offered, after allowing Chanson to move me to the opposite side of the table. Nora and Raquel joined us there. Luckily, another ice sculpture—this one a mermaid—blocked my direct view of where Racco and Garvan presently stood. “I’d like to visit with them for awhil
e.”

  “Certainly,” said Racco, smiling again as he peered around the sculpture.

  He nodded respectfully to Garvan and sat down. Garvan’s frown remained fixed upon his face as he looked away from Racco. But his expression changed to one of smug satisfaction by the time he turned his attention to me. Thankfully, he only nodded, which saved me further involvement.

  “See, jealousy and ‘cat fights’ are not strictly the domain of the female sex!” whispered Chanson, drawing close to where her lilac scent grew strong. “You are the new flower in spring that so allures the bees and the wasps equally, so be careful. Your world is changing…your life will never be the same. But you know these things, Txema. Go ahead and gain nourishment for your body, and then you and I shall talk.”

  I nodded politely, wondering what new revelations would be forthcoming from Chanson, whom I could tell had taken upon herself the role of my protector. Like the older sister I never had. Part of that revelation comforted me—as strange as all of this was at this point. But as I sat there, thinking about the tension between Racco and Garvan, and the journey to their homeland that would be completed sometime before the next day’s nightfall, I felt alone again—worse than at any point I could recall since my life spiraled into chaos.

  The distractions of being the center of attention for the immortal undead and the romantic focus for the even rarer immortal human were simply thin veneers that couldn’t erase the family and friends I had lost, possibly forever. In a snap, all of my worries returned to me in full force, and I felt trapped and lost.

  I grabbed a few small club sandwiches and ate quickly. Then I grabbed another glass of wine and nodded to Chanson, letting her know I was ready to hear what she had on her mind.

  “Come with me,” she said, standing up from the table and motioning to the others to stay behind. “Join me for a walk on the deck.”