“It’s an amazing view, isn’t it?” A gentle voice remarked and she turned slowly, fearing the world would spin dizzily about as it had for the past few days. She was still striving to become accustomed to the change, which often meant she lost her equilibrium.
Remaining steady on her feet, Meghan looked at the lady who owned the stunning cabin in the woods. She was somewhat envious when her scrutiny drifted over her hostess, the woman appearing to be not much older than a budding university student. Her red hair, a shade darker than that of Chesca, was caught up in a tight ponytail. She didn’t wear cosmetics and a spray of freckles ran across face, making her appear more youthful. Presently, she wore a starling white Florida college sweatshirt and faded jeans.
Despite the innocence and youth displayed, Meghan knew better, though. During the past week, she had learned Vivi Delaneaux, formerly Genie Carter, was closer to a human fifty.
“I still can’t believe the colors.” She divulged with a smile. “I’m still having trouble taking it all in. At times, I feel like my senses are overwhelmed. I afraid this is all just a hallucination and I’ll wake up and only be able to see the darkness.”
“It’s not a dream, Meghan.” Reluctantly, she shrugged her shoulders. She examined the blonde’s features, wondering if her change had been the best decision. “Do you think you’ll have any trouble adapting?”
“I don’t know.” She scowled slightly. “I’m not there, yet.”
“It isn’t easy, being what we are.”
Meghan lifted strangely golden eyes to the writer and shrugged. “I don’t think it’s simple for anyone, whether you volunteer, or are forced.”
“When Dom changed me, it was by my choice.” Vivi admitted easily, pushing her hands deep into the back pockets of her jeans. She nodded and her similarly shaded gaze held a faraway expression. “It wasn’t uncomplicated for me to change from being Genie Carter, and into this fresh persona. The human I was so blasted eccentric, consumed with insecurities, and slightly agoraphobic. I guess I could say, because of my mortal issues, slipping into a new identity was easy.”
“Do you enjoy the spotlight now?”
“It’s not as bad as I once thought it was.” She smirked. “Though, I still try not to be in the public eye too much. When you’re one of the undead, things have to change every few decades. In particular, I can’t allow people to become too familiar, remembering when they aren’t supposed to.”
Broodingly, Meghan absorbed the information in silence.
“I’m so sorry,” Vivi interrupted swiftly. “I spoke out of turn. You really didn’t have much of a choice in changing, did you?”
“I don’t recall too much after I was shot.” She revealed.
“Darling, what’s the last thing you remember?” Her gaze narrowed as she looked beyond the woman and out past the lake.
“Sounds…the building groaning as the blaze climbed up the walls, beams crashing to the ground. I…” Meghan closed her eyes, the nightmare flashing behind the lids. “Agonizing pain in my chest, Amado’s voice, and horrendous heat.”
“I suspect the pain was from the bullet your ex-husband so considerately decided to put into you, in his vicious little attempt to keep you to himself.” She filled in heavily, her words laced with acrimony. “The heat would have been the blaze he set, as well. If he couldn’t have you, you were going to die in that fire.”
Meghan shuddered, the event flashing through her thoughts. She had been at the cabin, from what Vivi told her, for nearly a month. During that time, she had brief flashes of Amado’s face imprinted in her pain-filled memories, shouting at a different vampire’s smirking countenance, and the softly lilting bayou timbre of another who attempted to defuse the situation. Since her recovery, she hadn’t seen any of the men, their presence conspicuously absent.
“What happened to Amado?” She inquired hesitantly.
“Don’t worry about him,” Vivi assured, detecting the dread in Meghan’s panic filled gaze.
“He attacked Kevin, just as the gun went off, and was hit by one of the bullets…”
“As you probably already assume, my dear, bullets don’t have much of an effect on a vampire.” She chuckled softly, recalling a personal time in the past. “Normally, they walk away from the assault. At other times, I’ve known them to suffered memory loss but, eventually, they do recover.”
“I remember him being at my bedside,” Meghan began hesitantly, “Along with a blonde haired person and one that spoke with such a delightful accent.”
“The one with the charming speech would be my husband, dom.” Vivi giggled aloud as she made the admission. “The other man was Declan.”
Meghan scowled at the mention of his name. She recalled the confrontation in Amado’s dance studio, and the dislike radiating from the two, and she wondered why he’d be close by.
“I understand, by all rights, I should be dead.” Meghan looked inquisitively at the woman. “I’ve this sneaking suspicion Amado didn’t transform me.”
“You know, that’s the strange thing.” Vivi admitted before pulling her hands from her pockets and plopping down on the worn cushions of an ancient sofa. She ran a plump hand over the back of her neck and her face screwed up in quizzical reflection. “Despite how much he loves you, and the fact you were dying in his arms, Amado couldn’t touch you.”
“Why not?”
“It’s an element of the vow we make when we join The Bloods.” She stated beneath her breath. “Innocent human blood is strictly off limits, taboo, and big no-no if your part of the sect. Feast on an untarnished soul and you’re banished, and never allowed to return.”
“And this would be difficult since…?”
“Our kind joins The Brotherhood to redeem ourselves for the sins in our past.” The author supplied helpfully. “The faction’s entire concept is forgiveness, and correcting the errors of our ways. Although we may be cursed, we use that damnation to cleanse the world of the true evil that lurks.”
“You mean the wickedness present in mortal man, don’t you?”
“Exactly.”
“So, Amado couldn’t change me, even if he wanted?”
“No,” Vivi’s lips tightened as twisted a strand of hair around her finger. “All he could do was stay with you until you passed.”
“That means he would’ve died in the fire, as well.”
“Fire’s the worse forms of death for anything out there, living or dead.” She admitted. “Unfortunately, being one of the undead, we don’t have the luxury of expiring before the flames consume our bodies. Our deaths are horrendous, and we feel every moment of the agony.”
“If Amado didn’t,” Meghan asked inquisitively, “who did?”
“Do you recall Declan?”
Declan. The vampire’s name flitted in her mind, figments of his taunting words echoing in the darkness. Slowly, she agreed, wondering why the woman mentioned him.
“There’s not much love lost between Amado and Declan, and there never has been,” she confessed with a shudder. “But, he did save you.”
Meghan rubbed her hands over her forearms, feeling the cold seep from her flesh as she squinted at the heavy beams above her. The information was difficult for her to digest, to realize she was in league with the undead, a creature of the night, who had regained her sight with her death.
“Since Amado couldn’t change me, Declan Balthazar did.” She mused aloud.
“I would’ve never thought he had a halfway decent bone in his body!” The author remarked in a hushed and awed tone.
“Maybe he’s not quite what everyone assumes.”
“Oh, sweetheart, don’t let one single good deed cloud your mind.” Vivi laughed enchantingly, waving a be-ringed hand before her face. “Declan is one bad apple, and he’s as wicked as they come. Still …”
“What?”
“How he managed to drag along the wizard without being sent into the netherworld, I’ll never know.”
Meghan shook her head,
still confused by the darker side of Bentham revealed to her. She had trouble believing Chesca’s enchanting friend, Sebastien, was a century’s old vampire hunter and she was surrounded by a clan of well-behaved vampires.
“Why was he here, if he’s so repulsive?”
“It’s a long story, Meghan.” Vivi sighed heavily. “My home is a place of sanctuary for any vampire that comes to the door. I won’t turn any away.”
“Even Declan?”
“Even him,” she responded. “It’s a good thing I didn’t, since he’s the one that brought you here. Amado was suffering from his own injuries, portions of his back burned by the heat of the fire, and a bullet in his shoulder.”
“Declan stayed, though,” Meghan observed. “He argued with Amado.”
“He refused to leave, waiting for you to regain consciousness.” Vivi smirked at the oddity of the vampire’s protests. “He wanted to make certain your eyes were gold, and not the black consuming his own vision.”
“Gold?”
“The golden hue means you’re one of ours,” she supplied informatively. “If your irises were black, you would’ve been part of The Sanctum.”
“What are they?”
“Let’s just say they’re the opposite of everything The Bloods stand for, darling.”
“So, once he realized my eyes weren’t black, he left?”
“He was out the door without a single goodbye or thank you for the hospitality.” She grumbled. “However, I have my own theory about Declan.”
“What would that be?”
“I think, considering how old he is in the mortal world, he’s lonely.” She began.
“Loneliness isn’t an excuse to torment someone.”
“In Declan’s case, I think he tormented Amado because he’s ashamed to say what he truly feels.”
A heavy silence greeted her observation.
“Hear me out, and please don’t look at me like I’m crazy.” She lifted her hand and laughed. “I think his life is so empty he chooses to follow Amado about and torture him, just to have someone to talk to.”
“Why?”
“You have to understand depression and suicide aren’t choices many of us can entertain.”
“So, it’s better off for him to be a bully?”
“Do I really make him sound so mediocre?” She questioned.
“To be honest, I don’t know.” Meghan mused. “I know he created Amado, but he’s defied him at every turn.”
“Amado never was conventional.” Vivi giggled, blushing as she recalled private kiss from the past.
“I’m still lost when it comes to all this,” she admitted reluctantly.
“It’ll take some time.” Vivi soothed. “I’ve been trying to adjust for close to seven years, and Dom still walks me through some of the more difficult times.”
“At least you have your husband.” Meghan commented. “If Amado isn’t any worse of wear, why is he avoiding me?”
Vivi shrugged. “Knowing him, there could be a number of reasons. First and foremost, I’d assume he isn’t quite certain how you’d react to becoming one of us.”
“It’s a little hard to accept at first.” She remembered the hunger that tore at her the first few nights, the agony of her body changing into the creature that she presently was. Once the transformation was complete, she had the author’s guiding hand to guide her, until she was well enough to rise from her darkened room.
Acceptance wasn’t an issue with her, though, having altered her in more ways than she believed imaginable. She radiated with calm now, lacking the insecurities previously shadowing her life. There was strength to her, a resolve making her far stronger than what she had been.
Above all, she wanted Amado.
She needed him, she realized. Her heart ached and she longed for his kiss, his touch, and his embrace. An eternity without him would be torture, and she didn’t have any need to continue if he wasn’t by her side.
“Darling, he hasn’t left you.” Vivi stated aloud. “He loves you too much to do that.”
“He’s not here.” She said with some reluctance.
“Amado’s been here, though.” The author nodded. “He’s out with Dom currently, giving us time to talk before he shows up.”
Vivi rose from the sofa and went to the French doors overlooking the lake, her cheeks glowing with a rosy light and her eyes filled with a warm and loving luminosity. In the distance, two figures approached, men wearing dark jackets.
Meghan stood next to the author, her curiosity evident. Their voices carried as Vivi opened the doors, waving and whistling at the pair. The man in the lead, his skin a rich shade of brown, smiled, and waved in return. When he spoke, she heard the hint of the bayou in his words and knew he was author’s husband.
The other individual held her attention, though. He paused and stared up the lane at her, the sunlight highlighting his classical features in a delicate light. His dark hair shone an inky hue and his eyes sparkled, revealing a handsomeness Meghan thought nearly unreal.
Meghan stared into his face, recognizing him for who he had been in a past life. A slow smile curved her lips and she chuckled, her golden gaze glowing. She stepped out onto the porch surrounding the cabin, love shining from her bright eyes, before she ran into his waiting arms.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Six Months Later
The sound of a rustling newspaper interrupted Chesca’s thoughts as she stared across the plaza from her shop. Unhappy, she examined the faces of the people at the café, absently searching for the figure of her lifelong friend, before remembering she wouldn’t see Meghan’s face lifted to the sun again. At the finality of the thought, she stifled a sob.
“Are you weeping again, cherie?”
Sebastien’s question startled her and, guiltily, she pressed her fingertips to the corners of her streaming orbs before turning. Her watery smile quivered as she absently fingered the worn deck of cards resting on the table.
“No, I’m not crying.” She managed to utter, but the words lacked conviction.
“Chesca,” Sebastien breathed her name heavily and folded the newspaper he held in an odd fashion, deliberately forcing a single article to stand out among the rest of the print. “I understand you’ve questions regarding that night…”
“I have way too many questions and, for some strange reason, I suspect you aren’t going to answer any of them.” She huffed and scowled at him.
“Why do you always imagine the worst of me, Chesca?” He inquired with feigned innocence.
“I’ve seen too much shit over the past few months, and there isn’t a single bit that’s logical.”
The hidden meaning beneath her accusation wasn’t lost to him. Sebastien shrugged casually, the fabric of his shirt rippling over his torso like a dark flutter of silk. “You should realize there’s more to this world than meets the eye.”
“Or human minds can suffer through.” She grumbled.
“The mortal mind only believes what it chooses to accept.” Chesca sensed he was mocking her. “Just as there are those that view your cards as the fabrication of the devil, there are others who’ll never recognize the possibility of creatures beyond human norms.”
Lifting her attention to the ceiling of the shop, she watched the crystals above her head swing in the sunlight.
“I lost my best friend, the only person who ever accepted me as I am, with all my eccentricities, in the most horrific fire ever to hit the warehouse district in the last decade. I saw a man gnash some horrendous fangs at me.”
“I empathize with your confusion….”
“Confusion?” She sounded outraged. “I’m more than confused, damn it. Especially after watching you walk into a blazing building and later emerge unscathed!”
“You deal with the supernatural, with a domain people play with for their amusement, but your mind is having difficulty understanding?”
Chesca raked her fingers through her hair, her vision blurring.
�
��I thought I was aware of the truth.” She mumbled morosely, recalling the events. “I believed in a sane and simple world, where everyone is what they seem to be, and there isn’t a side a person would ever question.”
“This is from a fortune teller that amuses people with predictions of their past, present and future?”
“Mock me all you want, Sebastien DeClerq.” Chesca’s eyes shot daggers as she glared at him. “I, of all people, never took you to be a wizard.”
“Chesca, cherie, you only had to question those prized cards of yours.” He supplied affectionately, indicating the worn deck on the table. “Go ahead, ask.”
Chesca huffed and flipped her hair over her shoulder as she turned to the deck. Slowly, she removed her precious cards from a fragment of black velvet, spreading the fabric across the table. She raised her curious gaze to his as she struck a match and lit the single white candle before her, a murmur of a throaty hello filling the shop.
Shuffling her cards, she looked away, mentally forming the question. Trancelike, she cut the deck into three sections and, with a flourish of her hand, replaced the last section on top of the others.
“What is Sebastien DeClerq?” She requested loud and clearly. Focusing on her question, she reached for her treasured cards. Chesca flipped the card over, and pressing it firmly to the table. She gasped as she stared into the image revealed, and felt chilled to the bone.
On the worn façade of the card, a heavily bearded man sat wearily beneath a glowing light, surrounded by skeletal remains. A weighty tome rested on a table before him, and his finger pressed into an unknown passage.
“Tell me my fortune, Chesca.” Sebastien’s request echoed strangely in the shop, the crystals above spinning slightly.
Tears of Blood (The Blood Chronicles) Page 24