by Opal Carew
I looked up. Samantha stood, frozen, at the top of the steps. Her mouth gaped. I probed her emotions, but…nothing, no emotions, seemed present. Not good. I met her eyes.
She was glancing back and forth between Ollie and me. Her brain apparently restarted itself then, because the smell of fear and sour taste of panic rolled through me. “How…?”
Ollie started giggling, grabbing both Samantha’s and my attention. I realized I was still holding her and placed her back on her feet. A rectangular piece of soft Styrofoam packing material stuck to the bottom of one of her shoes. I pulled it off and held it up for Samantha to see. “Sorry.”
Ollie made it down the rest of the stairs without incident, I followed after her. Samantha stood still.
Please let this go. Ollie looked at me strangely as I muttered a soft plea in my native tongue. Finally, Samantha came down and joined us.
“Mommy, can we go to the playground?” Ollie asked with her face pressed up to the sidelight to the left of the front door.
“Um…I don’t…know. We’ll see.” Samantha looked back up the stairs with a frown.
“Lucien, can you come play with us?” Ollie asked.
“Ollie, I’m sure Lucien has a lot to do today,” she murmured, still not looking at me. Ollie opened the door and skipped out to the front porch. Samantha seemed torn between a desire to flee and to confront me.
The smell of her fear was becoming problematic. Fear was an especially attractive scent to my kind. With difficulty, I swallowed the bloodlust down. “Sam, I am sorry. I should have been more careful to ensure the floors were—”
Her wide eyes flew up to meet mine, resolved now. “You just saved Ollie. You saved her. You…flew…you flew down the steps and caught her in midair.” The words came more quickly. “You didn’t hesitate—one minute you were beside me and the next…and you were perfectly calm about it. I didn’t even hear your feet…”
“Sam—”
“No! Don’t get me wrong, Lucien. I can’t thank you enough. I appreciate what you did. In those few terrible seconds, I had already played the whole awful scene out in my head. I saw her lying crumpled at the bottom of the steps. But…but…how?”
Anticipating this question, my brain had already begun evaluating possible explanations, discarding some as unworkable and placing out for my consideration a few possibly convincing ones. Hopefully one of these would work, or I was going to have to charm her to see it my way. I didn’t want to have to do that with an audience; I certainly didn’t want to have to charm a child as well. There was no telling what the effects of that would be on one so young.
“It was no big deal. I was only a couple steps away when she started to wobble, so I slid down the banister to her. I used to love sliding down stair railings when I was a boy,” I added with a smile, trying to distract her.
“Wait. What? You weren’t…already on the stairs. You were standing just by me…a little behind me, actually.”
“No, Sam, really. I had just begun down the steps—”
“Mo-omm!” Ollie called from the porch. “Can we go to the playground now?” Her interruption shook Samantha’s determination to have her version of events confirmed. I silently thanked the child for her impatience.
“Coming, Ollie. Don’t go near the street.” She looked back to me. “I’m sorry. Obviously it doesn’t matter. I just got so scared seeing her fall like that.” She took a deep breath and laughed a little. “God, you would think since I’m becoming a nurse, I would be a little more able to deal with stressful situations.”
“Everyone would be scared for their child in that situation, Sam.” We stood there awkwardly for a moment. “Well, I’d say please come back any time, but I suppose after that, you won’t be wanting to visit my old deathtrap again.” There was more disappointment in my voice than I had intended. Or expected.
She laughed. “Oh, stop. Of course we’ll visit again. Thanks for showing us around your place. It looks great.” She stepped out the open door.
Ollie sat on the front steps in nearly the same position as the first day I’d saved her. “Mom, can we go to the playground now?”
“Uh, okay. Just for a little while, though.” Samantha turned to me. “Would you like to take a brief break from house work?”
I stepped out onto the porch with them but noted with disappointment the bright sunshine flooding the grass and sidewalk around the porch. I squinted against the uncomfortable brightness. “I would love to come with you another time, but I should really finish getting settled here today.”
“Please, Lucien?”
I smiled at Ollie, marveling at the warmth of the affection coming from her. “I’m sorry, Ollie. Another time, though.”
The salty taste of disappointment hit me. A passing sense of that came from Ollie, although her excitement about the playground trumped it. My eyes flashed to Samantha—the feeling was hers. While she smiled her goodbyes at me, those smiles never reached her eyes.
She wants me to come with her. My chest tightened and I swallowed hard. Damn, I am getting in too deep.
And worse, I wanted more.
Chapter Four
I cursed the sun as they walked away, then turned and walked back into the house. The place positively vibrated with their scent.
Just then, my cell phone came to life in the pocket of my jeans. I whipped it out, not recognizing the number.
“Yes?”
“Ah, Lucien. How very good to hear your voice.” I froze, recognizing the accented voice immediately, despite the decade since I’d last heard it. My hesitation didn’t go unnoticed.
“Really, Lucien, where are your manners?”
“Monsieur Laumet.” Cazzo!
“Lucien, we have known one another for half a century.” Amusement rang through his words. “Why the formality?”
“Fine, Antoine. I wasn’t sure if we were still on a first-name basis.”
“You’re hurting my feelings, Lucien. Of course we are. Why wouldn’t we be?”
“Antoine, may I ask what you want?” I worked hard to moderate my tone, though the hairs on the back of my neck rose. No good could come from reassociating with Laumet.
“I always did appreciate your directness.” He chuckled. “I was simply pleased to hear from Langston you were alive and well and wanted to check in on you for myself,” he said with an innocence he didn’t possess.
“Well, I appreciate that. I’m good, but of course, I have no illusions you didn’t know perfectly well I was still around.” Laumet had a large vampire guard and a huge staff of human employees, most of whom were not in on his secret life. Still, there were plenty of Laumet-loyal goons running around Detroit keeping an eye on every aspect of the city for him.
“Be that as it may.” He hesitated—his purpose in calling was coming.
I distracted him with more small talk. “Since we’re exchanging pleasantries, Antoine, how have you been?” I paced the length of the first floor.
“Oh, Lucien. Thank you. I thought you would never ask. I am old and underappreciated. The times aren’t what they used to be. All this effort at economic revival and urban redevelopment in my old city complicates my life. But, of course, I am managing to adapt to the changes. Business is growing, and we do our best to identify new opportunities,” he said, as if he was talking merely about overseeing a small family business.
“Hmm” was all I could think to say.
“I want you to come see me, Lucien. I would love the opportunity to catch up with you in person and reminisce about old times.” So this was the real reason for the call, then. He was summoning me to him. Given it was his city in just about every sense of the word, one simply did not refuse such a request.
I sighed. I’d give it one try: “Of course I appreciate the offer. But, begging your indulgence, I remain rather fond of our current arrangement. I—”
“Tomorrow night. Nine p.m. The Boat Club on Belle Isle. I will see you then.” The line went dead.
“Cazzo!” I roared as I threw my phone, lucky it landed against the soft cushion of a distant chair before clattering to the floor.
I spent the rest of Saturday waiting impatiently for the sun to set enough to return to Edmund Place. As soon as I got home, I flew to the basement and wrenched open the refrigerated storage unit, then consumed the remaining pints right out of the plastic.
The blood began to work its magic within my body. I hadn’t fed so frequently in a long time. My senses immediately heightened, and my muscles tingled with an electric energy. The air felt cooler against my now-blazing skin.
Unusually sated and satisfyingly warm, I could think of only one other way to prepare for tomorrow’s reunion: rest. As I willed myself into the trance, lying in the coolness of my drape-darkened bedroom, I thought about my arrival to this city and everything that flowed from it.
Coming to Detroit sixty years ago began the darkest chapter of my existence. Still guilt-ridden from my human family’s horrific deaths and infuriated at my inability to find and exact revenge upon my maker, I had willingly associated myself with the worst of the vampire race. I deserved little better and went out of my way in those years to punish myself. Knowing I would see Laumet again brought the memories of those dark times into sharp relief.
Finally, it was time.
I made my way through downtown to Belle Isle. I hadn’t been on the island in the middle of the city’s river for years. Making no effort to conceal my arrival, I crossed the cracked parking lot to the path that led across a raised footbridge to the abandoned Boat House’s entrance. The canopy and awning over the walkway were long gone, leaving only the metal skeleton that had once held the fabric. I pushed through the front door into a dark vestibule—left dilapidated to discourage curious trespassers, as was the usual practice—and came to a set of heavy double doors.
Two thumps of my fist served as my knock.
After a moment, the door opened. Langston stood before me with an apologetic expression on his face. I walked in and clapped him on the shoulder. I didn’t blame him for this situation—not that I knew if there was a situation yet. I paused while Langston secured the door. Then he led me through a once- grand lobby space into a ballroom.
Laumet always surrounded himself with the most beautiful spaces in Detroit—this Boat House was no exception. Ornately molded wood paneled the walls, and a beautiful balustrade featuring carved sea horses framed a balcony around the top of the room. Heavy blue velvet curtains hung at the windows, effectively shielding the abundant candlelight in the room from outside notice.
As was his style, Laumet sat as if holding court in an oversized chair at the head of the room near the fireplace. His hair was silver, although his former black color still revealed itself in its undertones. His silver eyes were filmy around the edges. He was the oldest vampire I had ever seen in every sense of the term—at least sixty or seventy when transformed nearly three centuries ago. His finely tailored black suit accentuated his dark brilliance and aura of power. The silk was so fine the candlelight danced off it.
I approached but paused just a few feet in front of him. His smile was wide and genuine. Encouraged, I stepped forward and offered my hand. “Good evening, Antoine.”
He shook enthusiastically. “Yes, Lucien, it is. I am so pleased you came to see me tonight.” He held on a moment longer than seemed natural and studied my eyes and face all the while. “You look well.”
“Thank you.” I let pass the fact that he’d given me no choice but to come. Laumet’s good humor surprised me. He had a volatile personality, so I never knew what to expect from him.
That was perhaps because of his line of work. He ran some legitimate businesses, but most of his wealth and power came from his black market operations and illegal entertainment activities. It was dangerous to trust the people who operated in these arenas, so Laumet’s group of confidantes was quite small and for the most part consisted of the people sitting in the room, myself included, despite a number of recent clashes.
“You remember Jacques and Magena, of course.” The pair of them sat on a brocade sofa a few feet from Laumet. Jacques was short, slight, and olive- skinned, with black hair pulled back into a tight ponytail with a leather cord, while Magena was exquisite—dark skinned with waist-length iron- straight black hair and high pronounced cheekbones that set off her sparkling silver eyes.
“Of course.” I nodded to them.
Magena offered a warm smile, her emotions full of affection for me as they had always been. Jacques managed a sort of a grimace then looked away. His continued hostility toward me was no surprise.
“Won’t you please sit, Lucien? Langston, you too.” He motioned to a second brocade sofa opposite from Magena and Jacques. The fire was a little too warm against my blood-heated skin, but I offered no complaint.
Everyone looked uncomfortable to some degree—except Laumet.
“Ah, it’s so nice having all of you together again.” Laumet crossed his legs and smiled at us. Awkwardness hung in the air like a fog.
Finally, Magena said, “So, what have you been up to all these years, Lucien?”
“Truly? Nothing remarkable, Magena. Existing.” Jacques rolled his eyes.
“Do you still work renovating old houses?” she asked.
Her efforts were paying off. The small talk relaxed everyone. “Yes, occasionally. I have restored nearly four dozen houses, many of which I still own. It helps pass the time. And seeing the end result is satisfying. I just finished one this week, in fact.”
She smiled back. “How fascinating. The city should give you a medal—you’re a one-man force for historic preservation.”
I smiled at Magena, grateful as the last of the awkwardness faded. She and I had always had a special relationship, born of our shared misgivings about what we were. “That might be a little more attention than would be in anybody’s best interests. Not to mention the city seems to be more interested in tearing things down than building them back up again.”
“True in the neighborhoods”—Antoine joined in—”but downtown, the city has been attempting a resurrection with new buildings, new sports fields, and waterfront development. It’s been quite a renaissance.”
“And new casinos, too,” I added.
“Indeed. I have been particularly pleased with that development.”
“I assumed as much. And how is that business treating you?”
He chuckled. “If I had known how lucrative casinos could be, I would have built one myself. It is a sad testament to human nature that people without sufficient money to feed their families or pay their obligations will come to a casino and put their whole paycheck on the line.”
“We don’t feel too sad for them, though, do we, Father?” Jacques smirked at me as he addressed the vampire who had been his human father; they had been changed at the same time. “You should add stupidity to your list of death-deserving human failings, Lucien. You would never run out of a fresh supply of blood if you did. We certainly don’t.”
“Very good, Jacques. You managed to make it a whole”—I made a show of looking at my watch— “wow, twenty minutes, before starting in on me.”
Looking down, Magena tried to hide her smile. “Yes, yes,” Antoine interjected, amused. “Just like old times indeed. I do wish my sons could get along better.”
Jacques blanched. Laumet frequently used family metaphors to talk about the vampires who served him, but his designation of me as one of his sons always rankled Jacques. Laumet liked me as well as and treated me nearly the same as one of his real sons. Maybe that was because one of his sons had died, and Jacques was the only one remaining.
Whatever the case, Jacques was clearly shocked to hear Laumet still considered me that way after my long separation. Jacques’s jealousy of me was and had always been palpable. And with that comment, his father had just reignited the smoldering burn of his hatred for me.
As the conversation continued, I kept waiting for something bad to happen, sure L
aumet had summoned me for some purpose I wasn’t going to like. However, the night passed in storytelling about our shared pasts. Aside from Jacques’s black emotions, it wasn’t altogether unenjoyable.
With an affectionate chuckle, Magena recalled my confusion regarding Laumet’s possessiveness of Detroit. She’d long ago been the one to explain to me when he said it was his city, he really meant it was his city: in the late seventeenth century, Laumet, who claimed for himself the title Sieur de Cadillac, founded Fort Pontchartrain, the forerunner of the modern city of Detroit.
However, ruthless even as a human, Laumet had earned the ire of the powerful Jesuit priests, who exiled him to face imprisonment in France for illegal trade with the natives. The king soon pardoned him and rewarded his New World service with a governorship in the south of France.
“That was when I met my maker,” Laumet reminisced. “A servant girl had accused the lord of an aristocratic family of witchcraft. Curious, I looked back through the records to discover the family had been accused twice before. Each time the accuser either died or disappeared. It was all very convenient.”
Jacques shifted in his seat as Antoine spoke. His dread of the memory suffocated me. Knowing I would sense his discomfort, he glared at me.
“Henri Malenfant was all that the girl had said, and more. He promised me power and immortality if I could eradicate the evidence that led me to suspect him. How surprised I was to learn what he was.” Antoine paused.
We all knew where his mind went. Jacques’s recall of the pain of their transformation washed through me. The Laumet men had all been perfectly healthy when Henri changed them. Their bodies, their blood, had therefore fought the change, which made their experience sheer agony.
Antoine sighed. “Returning to my old domain made everything worthwhile. Even when things were hard here”—he gazed at Magena with a small smile—”I was satisfied to be back in the wilds of my American empire.”
Magena offered a shy smile in return, although her emotions were less composed. A flash of rage chilled me before she reined herself in, then her eyes flickered to Langston before looking down.