“Mistake,” he muttered as he put the picture back. If he found her, fine. If he didn’t, that would be fine as well.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
I Think You Are Experiencing What Humans Call a Midlife Crisis
“I have to start doing things to appear more human to Amelie,” Eamon said after a few moments of silence. He had only said a few words since arriving at Marta’s house.
Marta sat down on the sofa in her living room. “Why?”
He took a drink of Glenlivet from his glass and frowned. “What do you mean why?”
She smiled at him. “Doesn’t it seem more sensible to tell Amelie the truth rather than keeping up this illusion?”
“No, it doesn’t. I’m not ready to tell her and until I am, I’ll continue on as I have.”
“I still feel you would be better off being honest.”
“I didn’t ask for your opinion.”
She flipped her blonde hair and laughed. “I’m giving you a woman’s point of view.”
“Save it.” Eamon narrowed his eyes at Marta. “I’d like you, cousin, and Isabelle to accompany Amelie and me to lunch at the Yacht Club.” It was more of a decree than an invitation. He loosened his tie and ran his hand through his hair.
“Lunch? I despise going out during the day. It gives me a headache.” She frowned and dug the toe of her shoe into the thick pile of the rug. “Cousin?”
“Yes, cousin. I don’t care. Wear a hat. You know what I mean and I want you to do this.”
He realized how he sounded and took another drink. Eamon blew out flustered sigh. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t ask like that.” An uncomfortable moment passed for him as he took on a more courteous tone. “Will you please help me?”
The smile reappeared on Marta’s face. “I know that took a lot for you to ask me like that. I would do anything to help you, querido. Maybe though, you could tell me why you’re so anxious over this girl?”
Eamon moved over next to Marta. His behavior had changed since coming to Tampa. He had drifted away from micromanaging his business affairs and instead spent the time with Amelie. Meeting Amelie was the catalyst. It wasn’t his search for Lauryl. Had he not met Amelie, he might have continued as he had for the past one thousand years. She turned around his life. He took Marta’s hand and patted it.
“I’m anxious because this girl is different than Lauryl. I think I love her, Marta. I’m afraid to lose her.” He shifted on the cushions, unable to get comfortable.
“Love her?” Marta asked. Her blue-grey eyes widened.
“Yes.” He shrugged. His jacket suddenly felt tight on his shoulders. “Well, what I think is love. I’m a bit overwhelmed by this girl.”
“I think you are having what humans call a midlife crisis. Although, from what I understand, you’re a bit old for one as a vampire.” She tapped her finger to her chin.
“Explain.” He finished off the scotch and set down the glass.
She sighed. “Well, you seem unsure of how your life is progressing, which I suspect is a new dilemma for you. You’re also changing who you are. You’re questioning and trying to make sense of the human emotions you’ve long suppressed.”
He sank back into the sofa and frowned. “I don’t like human emotions. They make me uncomfortable.”
“Mine make me uneasy as well, but I try and embrace them when they surface. As a female, I’ve been allowed that privilege.” She put her head on his shoulder. “I certainly don’t think our entire being is changed when we’re turned. Our maker’s blood enhances us. It doesn’t destroy us. Blood builds us.”
Eamon took a minute to consider what she had said before responding. “However to survive as we do, it does help to separate ourselves from our human selves. We don’t even refer to ourselves as humans.”
“No, we don’t. I consider myself above a human. I’ve had the time to evolve to that point.” Marta replied.
“I feel the same way and that’s why I’m so confounded by it. Don’t misunderstand me, I’m happy but confused by it.” Eamon’s shoulders stiffened, and after a moment, relaxed. The exposure of his self-perceived weakness had not been as dreadful as he feared. Marta didn’t even so much as flinch. She was an easy confidante. More and more she reminded him of Irina. He looked at her and she smiled at him.
“Have you never been in love before? Even as a human?” she asked.
“Not like this. Most of my existence—and Lauryl would agree—I’ve only been in love with myself.” Eamon took her hand.
Marta traced his fingers with hers. “What vampire isn’t in love with themselves?”
“It’s necessary for survival. But this girl, Marta…I think I love as much as that.” He squeezed her hand. “I’d even be human again for her.”
Her eyes widened. “Dios mio, are you serious?”
He thought for a moment. That was a bit much and he laughed. “Well, no, but I’d consider it.” Eamon kissed Marta’s hand as an unspoken thank you. His phone vibrated. Eamon pulled it out and saw that Amelie had sent him a text message. A+E=. <3. A smile formed on his lips as he set the message to be the phone’s wallpaper.
Marta noticed his expression. “I’m assuming the message was from your girlfriend based on the silly look on your face. Nice to have a young girlfriend, isn’t it?”
“You tell me,” he countered.
“Yes, it is. They remind you of what it’s like to be young again.”
“They do.” He raised his glass. “To younger women, then,”
“Absolutamente,” she said.
“Speaking of, where is the lovely Isabelle?”
“She’s getting dressed. One of the problems of having a reflection is being too attached to it. She takes a long time to get ready.”
“But worth the wait?”
“Always.” Her eyes sparkled and she laughed. “Look at us sitting here discussing our girlfriends! I feel like one of the boys!”
“My dear, I hardly think you’ll ever be mistaken for one of the boys.” Marta’s long shapely legs and full breasts in no way could be considered boyish. Neither could the flirtatious charm that she poured over him.
“Thank you?” she asked. “I think I could be either offended or flattered by that statement.”
“Be flattered. I meant no chauvinistic inference.” He leaned forward. “And we can discuss ‘men’s things’ whenever you’d like.”
Her eyes brightened and she sat up. “I intend to.”
“You’re a remarkable woman, Marta. I enjoy your company.” Again, he wished Irina had told him about Marta. Instead, he stumbled across her by chance and she was by far the most interesting vampire he’d met in quite a while.
“And I yours,” she said as she turned to the doorway. “Querida.”
Isabelle padded in and kissed Marta. She then turned to Eamon, smiled, and lowered her eyes. “Hello.”
“Hello, Isabelle. We were just talking about you.”
The girl looked back at Marta, her eyes revealed a passing uneasiness. Marta pulled her down next to her on the sofa. “Only good things.”
“So what are we doing this evening?” he asked, taking another drink.
“We thought we would go back to Bathory.”
Eamon placed his glass on the table. “Why?”
“I was under the impression that you were searching for Lauryl.”
“I am.”
“Well, shouldn’t you look for her where she’s most likely to turn up?”
“Marta, have you considered that maybe I’m not looking for her as aggressively as I was before?”
She studied his face for a minute. “Amelie must have quite a bit of power over you.”
“No, I’m just tired of the search. Besides, she seems content in the life she’s made here and I know that she’s safe. That was my main concern.” Eamon’s expression suggested that the discussion was closed.
“If you say so. So will you come to Bathory with us?”
“Doesn’t the place
bore you?”
“No, I find it amusing.”
Eamon sighed. “Then I suppose we’ll go.”
“Excellent! Querida? Shall we?”
“Friday night is supposed to be amazing, according to Dita. She said that they do like performance art and stuff like that,” Isabelle told Marta.
“Wonderful,” Eamon muttered.
* * *
Isabelle pulled the car to the back door of Bathory. The same bulky security man came out and opened her door. “Dita’s coming,” was all he said as he drove off.
As they watched the taillights disappear, Dita opened the warehouse door. She gave two air kisses to Isabelle, bowed her head to Marta, and then looked at Eamon. She appeared to be confused about what to do to him. She stood in awkward silence for a few seconds.
“Hello always works nicely, I’ve found,” Eamon said.
“Hello. I’ve got you in the same room tonight. Come on.”
Eamon looked at the leggy girl. Tonight she wore a black knit dress that had been cut apart and safety pinned back together. She still had the white makeup on, but her eyes were blue, their natural color. He walked a few steps behind her as she took them up to their VIP suite and her pace quickened. A mischievous smile appeared on his face and he stepped up next to her.
“Dita, darling, I’m hungry,” Eamon whispered to her.
“What do you mean?” She walked faster.
“I mean I’m hungry.” He could hear her heart accelerate with fear.
The door of the suite stopped her. “I—” she stammered.
Eamon laughed. “I’m teasing you,” he said, brushing past her.
The rich sound of his laughter caused Dita to blush. He spun around and leered at her. Dita’s eyes expanded to saucer size and she turned to Marta.
“Eamon, now play nice,” Marta chided.
He shrugged his shoulders and sat down. “I’m only joking. You know, lightening the mood, being friendly.”
Marta wagged her finger at him. “Behave.” She turned back to Dita. “Is Ivory here tonight?”
“Yes, she is. There are a lot of vampires here tonight.”
“Anyone interesting?” Marta asked.
“Interesting how?”
“Oh, I don’t know. I always enjoy good company. Moreover, my poor friend is missing his love. She’s—” Marta looked at Eamon. “Where is she?”
“Out of town with friends.”
“So of course I want to keep him entertained.”
“Which was precisely why I was talking to the lovely Dita,” Eamon said. He winked at her and Dita’s eyes widened again. “For someone who works in club run by and frequented by vampires, you certainly are timid around them.”
“Only you.”
“Querida, send up Ivory for us. We’d like to say hello.”
“Sure,” she said as she hustled to the door. She stopped and turned back to them. “It might be a while. They’re getting ready for the show.”
“Since that’s the case, send me up a drink. Glenlivet, if you have it.”
Dita nodded and closed the door behind her. Eamon laughed again. She was afraid of him because he was a vampire. Why wasn’t she as frightened of Marta as she was of him? He wondered what the club staff knew about him. They probably knew a very one-sided story, with him as a villain and Lauryl and the idiot Wilson as the heroes. Eamon knew that he had a certain mythos about him, but Lauryl no doubt added quite a bit to it.
“Really, Eamon, tormenting that poor girl. She’s terrified of you.”
“For what reason?”
“I don’t know. You being grouchy is not a reason. Perhaps your reputation?”
“Exactly.”
“I meant as being the oldest vampire, but you raise an interesting point.”
“I’m not running for office.”
He stared down at the people in the club. Humans and vampires danced shoulder to shoulder on the crowded floor. In a way, this place served as the ideal hunting spot for a vampire. Willing victims were everywhere and dark places to play were abundant.
The door opened and Ivory entered with his drink in her hand.
“My dear Sasha,” Marta said. “It is so good to see you again. Of course you remember Eamon?”
Sasha gave Eamon his drink and bowed her head. “How are you, sir?”
“Very well, thank you. How are you? It seems you’re busy this evening.”
“Yes, very.”
“Won’t you sit with me for a moment?” He patted the spot next to him.
Sasha hesitated but then sat down next to him. Her Lolita-style dress hiked up her thighs when she did. Eamon took an appraising glance at her legs. He was especially intrigued by the fence panel pantyhose she wore. He slipped his finger under one of the net strings and smiled. She took in a deep breath. Eamon then reached up to the high ponytails on her head and rubbed the silky black hair between his fingers. Her hair slipped through and he traced a finger down her neck. He took a long swallow from his glass before placing it on the table.
“Would you like another?” Sasha asked.
“No, not right now.”
Marta stared back at him with a semi scowl. “Tell us about the show tonight.” What is wrong with you, she silently asked Eamon.
“Audience participation and interaction. We should have no problem getting volunteers. Should be fun.”
“Like how?” Isabelle asked.
“Depending on the artist, we take a clubber and bring them on stage and use them in their bit.”
“It sounds fascinating,” Eamon placed mocking emphasis on the word fascinating.
Marta shot him a look. “I think it will be just that.”
Sasha stood. “I really need to get back downstairs. The show’s starting soon.”
“Enjoy. It was good seeing you again.”
“I, um, still haven’t seen either one of them.”
“I know you haven’t,” Eamon said.
“It was good to see you, Senorita Jimenez-de Castillo.” She bowed her head. “Enjoy the show.”
Eamon waited for her close the door behind her and then turned to Marta. “She’s been glamoured. I can feel it,” he said.
“I thought so, too. By whom?” Marta asked.
“Lauryl.”
“Really?”
“Yes. I have no idea how she’s become so skilled, but she has.” His phone vibrated and he checked the caller ID. His expression softened. “Hello, my love.”
“Eamon!” Amelie said.
“What are you doing?” It was difficult for him to hear her. Wherever she was, it sounded crowded. He could hear music and young voices laughing. He could also hear in her voice was that she was on the way to being drunk.
“I was just thinking about you and missing you,” she said. “Hey, my friends want to say hey.”
Eamon heard a chorus of drunken, young, female voices chant “Hey, Eamon” in unison.
“Tell your friends hello.”
Amelie relayed the message to her friends and wave of girlish giggles followed.
“I really miss you,” she said, sighing into the phone.
“I miss you, too, but I know you’re having fun with your friends. You need to spend time with someone besides an old man,” he said.
She laughed. “You’re not old and I wanna come home and be with you. Hey, where are you?”
“I’m at Bathory with Marta and Isabelle.”
“The vampire place? And you went without me?”
“You and I will come together.”
“We can play vampire there.”
“Wherever you want. Listen, baby, please be careful. I can’t wait to see you.”
“Miss you.”
“Miss you, too.”
Eamon ended the call and glanced back at Marta. Both she and Isabelle grinned at him. He smirked and turned his attention back to the dance floor.
“How charming,” Marta said.
“He loves her,” Isabelle said to Marta.<
br />
Eamon didn’t respond to the teasing. He turned the phone over in his hand a couple of times and was about to say something when a spotlight hit the stage and the music stopped. Sasha sauntered onto the stage. A hush fell over the crowd and she called for a volunteer. A young man dressed in what Eamon considered normal clothes walked on stage. An employee brought out a chair, placed it downstage and he sat down. Eamon followed his gaze to the young man’s cheering friends. They all appeared to be about Amelie’s age and were intoxicated. He shook his head. Youth. The phone vibrated again. Amelie had sent him a picture of herself and her friends. He turned the phone in the ladies’ direction.
Marta took the phone from his hand and looked at the picture. “My dear Eamon, you’re so very smitten.”
He tried to take the phone back from her, but she playfully pulled it out of his reach. She pulled it away a final time and placed it in his hand. Their attention turned to the stage as a monotonous, hollow voice announced, “Ladies and gentleman, vampires and humans, the beautiful, deadly Lilith!”
Eamon turned back to the stage as his senses came alive. Recognition rang through him. It was Lauryl. The club lights blacked out and from beyond the field of the single spot light, out she crept. Lean and pale, she wore a black leather bra and a pair of black boy shorts studded with rhinestones. Her hair was long, black, and straight with bangs. Across her eyes, she wore a black makeup mask and her lips were painted a deep maroon. The somber music of Dead Can Dance started and she stalked toward the nervous boy seated in front of her. As she danced around him, almost lap dancing, the boy’s eyes never left her. Each time she touched him, his head lolled back and he closed his eyes. As the song came to its end, she straddled him and licked his neck. When the notes died away, she pushed his head to the side and bit him. His head dropped back, the lights went out, and the crowd went wild.
Marta, who remained by Eamon during the performance, hesitated a moment. “Is that—?”
He stared down at the dark stage. “Lauryl.” Eamon didn’t move. He stood and processed what he had seen.
Life in Moonlight: The Primigenio Tales: Book 1 Page 20