by Aiden James
She laughed at my response, pausing to drain the rest of her blood drink, which I was grateful for. If they had just said it was tomato juice or a V8 cocktail, I would’ve been fine with that illusion. Instead, knowing that the blood from a fellow human was being served as a dinner replacement was difficult to accept—regardless of the fact this was a much more humane way to quench her unnatural thirst.
“He told you his last name, did he not?” she asked, playfully, her green eyes aglow from her glee… or was it the blood infusion? “Saint Germain? Certainly you’ve heard the legend of the only immortal man ever to live?”
“Comte Saint Germain…the German alchemist that supposedly was a buddy of Louis XV and Voltaire? That Saint Germain?” It seemed unfathomable, although what’s the believability difference between an immortal ‘living’ human and a vampire?
“No, he is not that Saint Germain,” she said. “It is his younger brother.”
I didn’t know what to say, since it was hard enough to believe in the existence of the more famous immortal St Germain.
“Racco and Comte were alchemists long before history credits Comte’s earthly existence to have begun, which as you know was supposed to be during the seventeenth to eighteenth centuries,” she explained. “Both of them keep their early exploits on Earth a secret, but Gustav once told me that they preceded the birth of Christ by three hundred years.”
“How is that even possible?” I struggled to wrap my mind around it, glancing at Racco, who had just sat down.
I must admit that sexual fantasies about a forty-year-old man are a lot easier to maintain than thinking about sleeping with Methuselah, even if the old man looked as virile and dashing as he did right then.
“I remember reading that the Count—Comte Saint Germain—somehow discovered a formula that gave him eternal life. I thought it was a bunch of bullshit. And now you’re telling me that it’s all true, and that both he and his brother are immortals?”
“Yes,” she said, raising her empty glass to toast my own which was full of champagne. I tried to make sure I didn’t get the lip of my glass too close to the blood residue on hers.
“And, to answer your unspoken question,” she continued, “Comte still walks the world in a fairly youthful body, as well. Despite many additional attempts to add companions, none have ever been able to join them. So, unfortunately, as the decades, centuries, and millennia have passed, they have grown to loathe each other’s company.”
That made some sense, since despite Racco’s jovial personality, I detected the same sadness within him that I’d noticed earlier in Garvan. Like he suffered from some lack of fulfillment, despite his lavish ship and boundless charisma.
“He is alone… like us,” she said, obviously the voyeur to my latest silent observation. “Oh, he has tried to recreate the potion that worked for him so long ago, but to no avail. His brother is the only one who knew the exact recipe, and didn’t want to share it with anyone other than Racco. Eventually, even he forgot the calculations and balanced mixture of elements. By the time Comte wanted a companion other than Racco, it was too late. The formula was lost forever, and all attempts to experiment with incomplete versions by both of them have had disastrous effects on the subjects who drank the elixirs.”
I could’ve persisted with more questions, but the rest of the vampires converged around me. Garvan sat next to me on my right, and Raquel and Nora took two seats across the table from us. I could see Racco’s irritation in his expression, since this left him to converse with only Mercel and one of the young server girls for the time being.
“Do not fret for him,” whispered Chanson, who cast a knowing glance across the table at her female companions. “He has us, and we have him. Who better to share meaningful friendships with, than someone who will be here at the turn of the next century?”
My eyes lingered on him. “I guess…”
“Besides, he is too old for you,” added Garvan. He nodded to Racco, who returned his gesture with a reticent version of the same.
“We are all too old for her,” said Raquel, coolly, her comment’s iciness enough to draw Garvan’s ire. I heard a slight hiss escape his mouth as he bore his fangs at her. She responded in kind.
“Children, please!” Nora stood up, alternating her serious expression between them both. “Let’s be pleasant. Find something positive to talk about… you know the rules.”
They both nodded sullenly, which gave me a moment to ask Chanson about something that had bothered me since Garvan and I joined everyone that night.
“Where are Armando and Franz? Will they be joining us later tonight?”
“They are still in Tennessee, tying up some loose ends,” she said. “They will rejoin us shortly after we dock in Perpignan, near the southern Pyrenees Mountains. That is the current plan.”
I wanted to ask what they were still doing in Tennessee, but I wasn’t sure if I wanted to know the specific nature of those loose ends. I was desperate to know the specifics about Peter, Tyreen, and Johnny’s fates, but felt certain that any answers I sought would only be answered with half-truths and deception.
Instead, I broached another question for the time being, one that had been on my mind since my introduction to Nora.
“Who is this King Gustav you mentioned?”
“The oldest civilized vampire,” said Chanson, to which the others nodded supportively. “Or, I should say the oldest living civilized vampire.”
“Is he as old as Racco?” I asked, seeking a comparative reference point.
“Older,” Racco replied, drawing our eyes to him. He wore a smug grin of satisfaction, having turned the attention of the room back to himself despite the vampires talking about him as if he wasn’t in the room with us. “Older by at least two thousand years… perhaps three.”
Again, the others nodded.
“You’ll meet him in a couple of days,” added Raquel. “Once we reach the castle. Racco’s speedboat will get us there by Tuesday morning.”
“And that’s somewhere in France?” I asked.
“Yes, it is,” said Racco, grabbing his glass of merlot and moving to the chair next to Garvan’s. “It is in the mountains not too far from Perpignan. We call it ‘le château de douleur’, and hope your presence will provide the warmth it has lacked for many years. And, to add to Raquel’s comment, we are currently moving at between forty and fifty-five knots—fast enough to get there on time, and yet, hopefully avoid being mistaken for something we are not.”
I scarcely heard this last part, or everyone’s laughter that followed Garvan’s ensuing joke about being mistaken for a torpedo. The reference to staying in a French castle sounded permanent, which was exactly what I didn’t want to hear. The stated need to keep me alive was one I could abide by, but I intended for this to be sort of a forced vacation and nothing more. I planned to return home to the States, and soon.
Rather than argue the point right then, I smiled and nodded in agreement. I was fairly certain that while the vampires had open access to my unspoken thoughts, this gorgeous, middle-aged man had no clue about my intentions.
“Racco mentioned that you wish to call someone in the States,” said Chanson, when the silence that followed turned awkward. “Because of our need to remain undeterred by any outside interference, we can allow you to call only one person. Do you understand?”
“Okay,” I agreed, although I wanted to call everybody close to me, just to make sure nobody worried needlessly.
“Who will it be?” asked Garvan, and I’m sure by the look on his face he already knew it would be my boyfriend.
“I need to call Peter. As long as he…” I couldn’t bring myself to say the word survived, perhaps because I couldn’t bear the thought of hearing an answer in the negative. Chanson simply shrugged casually in a frustratingly ambiguous gesture.
I thought Garvan might voice an objection, but when Chanson handed me a cell phone and showed me how to dial back to the United States, he simply watched me make the call. I wo
rried what I might say once Peter answered the call, fearing I might choke up and say nothing, or forget something critical, like a report on Tyreen’s condition.
He never answered. Just two rings, and the call went to voicemail. The second attempt got me the same response.
“Can I please call one more person,” I pleaded, when Chanson moved to take the handset away from me. She hesitated, and I could tell from her expression that she carefully debated whether this would be wise or not. “I won’t call Tennessee again. Let me call my grandmother in Virginia, and I swear that’ll be it. No more calls after that—I promise!”
Grandma Terese was the only relative I could think of who wouldn’t overreact to this situation. Yes, she’d be worried. But, since there was little I could do about my present circumstances, she was the only one to whom I could honestly share what was happening and trust her to tell my parents and even Peter what they needed to know, and no more. There wasn’t anyone else in my life as gifted in getting their point across without spilling a secret in the process.
Chanson glanced at Nora who gave a curt nod.
“All right, but this will be the final opportunity we can grant you. At least, until we arrive on French soil. So, make sure you dial your grandmother’s phone number correctly, Txema.”
“Okay.”
I started dialing Grandma Terese’s number, fearing for a moment I had forgotten it. Chanson told me that we were roughly two hours ahead of America’s Eastern Time zone, which meant my grandmother should be winding down after her dinner. Unless, of course, my folks had brought her to stay with them after learning about the latest carnage at UT. That news combined with the fact I missed my flight home may have had them pull the family together for support and mourning. I prayed this wasn’t the case, or I’d be screwed altogether, with no one back home knowing I was okay and doubtless worrying themselves sick.
The phone reached its fourth ring and I started to panic.
“Hello?”
“Grandma, it’s me.” I tried to calm my excitement and relief. It was like a lifesaver had just been thrown out to me in the sea of confusion and uncertainty I found myself immersed in.
“Txema! Where are you?” She sounded as if she had been crying.
“I’m okay, Grandma,” I told her, hoping my tone assured her this was true. I wanted very badly to tell her everything, but knew I’d have to be evasive with most details. “I’m safe. I can’t explain where I am or even tell you who my protectors are. They saved my life last night—”
“You are with the vampires!” she interrupted. “I thought they would protect their territory when I heard from my cousins in Lourdes last week that Sorne and Nere had been killed. So, they have you, yes?”
“Yes, I’m with them,” I admitted, reeling from the keen intuition that told her far more than I ever intended to reveal. And, how in the hell did she know that vampires would have such an interest in her granddaughter? I think this revelation startled my vampire companions, too, as they all perked up. “But, I really am safe.”
“So far,” she agreed, but seemed pensive.
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 used to do card readings for a loyal clientele that included many of Richmond’s elite, who relied 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 said, 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.”
“Alright,” I agreed. 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.”
“They’re driving to Tennessee?”
“Yes,” she said, still with the receiver close to her mouth. “He and your momma are very worried—as we all are. He is not angry… just hurt, and worried. At least when I tell them that we have spoken, it should help. But, your papa will be most unhappy you didn’t call him, Txema.”
“I know,” I said softly. 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… very much!”
She sniffed, and I could tell this whole thing really upset her. Yet, I knew she’d find a way to tell my parents and brothers that I was okay. She might tell them that I had left the country and was on my way to France. I felt reasonably certain she’d never mention a single thing about vampires.
etting 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 making the call, 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 to get me off my ass and kicking up my heels—especially since my ankle hadn’t felt so 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 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. Both men had offered their arm to keep me steady. Refusing them was an act of petty rebellion and major stubbornness. Despite all that had happened, I could still at least take enough care of myself to go bed. Chanson made an excuse to head down at the same time I did and since we were heading in the same direction I accepted Chanson’s offer, as she put it, ‘to make sure I didn’t tumble down the stairs, or wander on deck and fall into the ocean’. I considered refusing her too, but felt I was too close to the line between stubborn and foolish, so accepted her company.
Just before we reached my room, navigating the hallway that seemed to spin around me, she pulled me aside. My cousin drew 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. It was just as well. I likely 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 friggi
ng way!” I whispered.
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.
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.
The fact that 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. I then left my room. At least I looked a hell of a lot more alive, although 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 in 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 as quietly as I could through 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 in intricate designs—the daytime hideouts for the vampires. Expensive refuges that still left them vulnerable and at their human protectors’ mercy.