by Yirak, Laura
“I knew it,” Alesta said. “He seemed like a bit of a pain.”
“Yes and Monica left a message,” Patrick said.
“I know she left one on my cell too, I just haven’t gotten around to calling her back yet,” Alesta said.
Patrick watched Alesta as she busied about, looking distracted and edgy. She was very good at hiding things, but he’d known her long enough now to know the subtle differences in her moods.
The door jingled again and in stepped Judy.
“Everyone is here,” Patrick said. His evening wasn’t going as expected.
“Hello!” Judy said. “How is everyone?”
“We’re all doing well,” Alesta said.
“Brilliant.”
“How was it with Cara?” Patrick asked.
“Well that’s a long story and for another day, but it looks like she’s moving back to town.”
Alesta could sense the happiness in her voice, “You must be excited. It’s always good to be surrounded by those you care about.” Alesta looked right at Patrick.
Judy noticing said, “I know, I know…..Well I’d like to stay and chat but, I’m very tired from all the news of the day.”
“Well good night then,” Alesta said.
“Good night,” Judy returned.
It was then that Alesta felt every unpleasant and consuming thought dissipate and only one person made her feel that way.
The Count.
Chapter 7
“Nicholas! You’re here early! I can’t believe it. Well actually I can, just like you to be unpredictable,” Alesta said as she hugged the Count.
“My dear, you know me well and it’s been far too long.” The Count embraced her like a lover, taking Alesta’s long dark silky hair and curling it around his finger.
Patrick watched the two with green eyes as they hugged for what seemed like an eternity to him.
“Patrick this is Nicholas, my good friend.” Alesta was beaming.
“Nicholas, nice to meet you again.” Patrick said it but wasn’t sure if he meant it.
Nicholas took Alesta by the hand, “The place looks the same. I took a walk around.” The Count sighed, “It was a long journey here and….”
“Of course of course, let’s go over to my house and catch up,” Alesta said cheerfully. “Patrick, please excuse us.”
“Sure,” Patrick said. “Oh do you need help with your bags?”
“That would be good of you.” The Count tossed his keys to Patrick, “In the boot.”
The red Ferrari was perfect and shining sitting there calling out to the fast and passionate heart. Patrick just stared at it almost tempted to hop in and drive off.
“Man,” Patrick said as he ran his fingers along the surface.
Instead he got out the Count’s one small black suitcase. It was a surprisingly light load considering that the ball was over a week off.
“No suit?” Patrick said scratching his head confused about why Nicholas had even bothered to have him get his one bag.
“The rich,” he tuffed.
Alesta and Nicholas walked slowly over to her place holding hands the entire way. Patrick followed behind them trying to listen in, but only heard faint happy toned voices.
The front door was open as Patrick approached. “Right then, I’ll just leave the bag here by the front door…….. Hello?”
No one responded.
“Well, I guess I’ll see you all later then?” Patrick called out.
It was silent, so he closed the front door went back to the Manor and up to his room where he quickly went to his window making sure to leave his bedroom light off. Alesta’s bedroom light was not on.
“They’re down there.” Patrick slammed his hand on the table. “Damn.”
He was going to go mental waiting and wondering so he paced around his room unproductively.
“Arghh….I’ll just go to sleep.” So Patrick pulled off his clothes down to his boxers, threw them unhappily on the wooden floor and climbed into the cold and uninviting sheets.
Sleep was not going to come though. He just lay there wide awake, tossing and turning here and there. The bed looked like it had been slept in for an entire night after just ten minutes of torment. All he could picture over and over again was that long embrace of theirs that obviously meant more.
“That’s it. I’m loosing it!” Patrick had had enough and pulled on his dark green robe and matching slippers.
The library was empty and peaceful. The old books lined the shelves just waiting to be read once again. Patrick scanned through them looking for something, anything to distract him. The farther in he got the older the books became, some so old that the writing was worn off. On the very top shelf just out of reach was a set of tall skinny books.
“I’ve never noticed these before.”
The books were tucked back more into the corner, almost like they were not supposed to be noticed. Patrick pulled up a chair and stood on it. The chair creaked as if unhappy with the weight while he carefully pulled the old and tattered books from the shelf. One book cover fell off as he did and once down from the chair, Patrick pieced the book back together.
The books were very dusty and fragile. Patrick took them over to the library table and placed them delicately down. The gold print lettering was not legible on the first book. He flipped open the first page. It was blank, but the second page was hand written. There was a list of names. The next page was just lines of documentation of money amounts to the previous list of names with specific dates. The book was several hundred years old and the writing was quite faded. The initial W.M. was beside each entry.
“Interesting!” Patrick whispered.
The next book was the same except this time there was lists of names and goods received such as livestock, wool, flour, wood, and on and on. In with each W.M. initial popped in the initial A.M. rarely.
“Hmmmm.” Patrick scratched his head.
He was aware that William McKenzie had a wife, but there were no pictures or documentation of her name in other books that he had looked at.
The next couple of books revealed the same results.
“Well that was interesting, but not very exciting.”
Patrick picked up the books and put them back where he found them. He stood up on the old chair once again and brought his head up even with the top dusty shelf. He noticed a piece of paper lying on the shelf, folded. It must have fallen out when he removed them earlier.
It was another list of names this time William had signed his name fully and so had his wife, it read, Alesta McKenzie.
“So it’s a family name,” Patrick said, but then noticed something odd.
He scratched his head again noticing that the old signature looked exactly like Alesta’s.
“What?”
Alesta and the Count lay in the red silk sheets together completely naked just holding each other and enjoying mutual warmth. It was Alesta’s private bedroom for such occasions deep in the heart of her secret abode. It was a place where time stopped.
“Ahhh! Alesta.” The Count stroked her shoulder.
“God! You drive me crazy.” Alesta snuggled her head more into his chiseled chest while watching the candle shadows dancing on the dark walls.
“God has nothing to do with it,” returned the Count.
Alesta laughed, “Not where we’re concerned, didn’t take us long did it?”
“Never does. I miss the days when you lived with me,” the Count said.
“Me too, but I had to come home. Scotland is my home,” Alesta said.
“I know. I try to convince you to come back every time we’re together. I’ve learned to stop asking.”
“You can still ask. Maybe one day I’ll say yes. You could always live here with me.” Alesta leaned in close to his face watching his hazel eyes; they were rich in the candle light, alive, almost looking blonde.
“Perhaps….I’ll think about it. We do go well together,” the Count said as he pulled her sup
ple body on top of his.
He then kissed her long and softly, caressing her fangs with his tongue. They were very sharp. He pressed his tongue hard against them and the blood began to flow. Alesta savored the taste, while they played with the kiss.
Alesta placed her hands upon his head and tangled her fingers into his long brown hair. She tugged lightly and they let go of each others lips slowly.
“Ich liebe dich,” the Count whispered as he rubbed his face into her white smooth neck.
“I love you too,” Alesta said. “I always will.”
The two heated and hungry vampires made love again, this time slower, enjoying every touch and every thrust. The sweat lightly glazed their bodies as they kicked off the sheets and Alesta pulled herself on top of the Count. She admired his flat abdominals, every muscle perfectly sculpted. She ran her sharp nails over each bump. Their bodies danced in harmony and the Count closed his eyes in pleasure.
“I want you,” the Count demanded as he grabbed her by the hips and pressed her flat on her back.
He paused for another long kiss, nipping her bottom lip and tasting her hot blood. Alesta’s mind relaxed as he then sunk his fangs into her neck. She cried out in pain and in utter bliss. There was nothing else that could compare. She was lost in him and all that he had made of her. She was his to do whatever he wanted with and at that moment she was all and willing. Alesta would die for him if that was what he wanted. The Count began to feast while thrusting harder and harder, quicker and quicker.
They both cried out as it all came to a rushing head and both fell back down upon the bed with smiles upon their faces. There was not a care left in the world and all they could do next was nap. Two became one.
The sky was bright and blue. The sun was warm and blanketing. Alesta stood in the open field looking up feeling her eyes burn away into her skull. She blinked to look around but she could no longer see. It was all a black void and she was all alone tripping over the unknown.
She was falling and falling, with the pit of her stomach churning. The babies screamed, their cries consuming her, their tiny little nails clawing her arms, but when she reached out they floated away from her, always near, but always far, their big blue beautiful eyes watching her.
Ro stood at the bottom laughing, his voice warping as if the atmosphere was in total fluid chaos. Alesta tried to look for him, but she could not, her eyes were just charred dust that whisked away in the dark.
“Alesta, Alesta.” The Count shook her awake. “It’s okay, you’re okay I’m here.”
“Oh. Nicholas.” Alesta rubbed her eyes, “I was dreaming.”
“I heard you moaning. You were pulling at the sheets. I know all that you have suffered. I always knew Ro would creep back into your life one unexpected day.”
“Yes. I have to find him.”
“I will help you,” the Count said.
“He is blocking me all the time, I know he’s in Glasgow, but that is as far as I get. He is blocking me somehow. Someone is helping him.” Alesta sat up anxiously and pulled the sheet over her as she suddenly felt cold.
“I will help you take care of him, but for now let’s just relax.”
He sensed her cold and her fear and motioned for her to come closer.
“You’re right, no use doing it when the sun is about to rise.” Alesta shivered.
The Count then stood up feeling the new dawn and reached out his hand, “Come on then, to your coffin. Is there room for me?”
“Always.” Alesta smiled.
Patrick felt stiff after a long sleep in the old, but comfortable library chair. He moved like an old man regretting his choice of beds and cracked his neck as he stretched. His bare legs were freezing and lacking in blood flow. He rubbed them.
The thin books got tucked back where they had been found and Patrick took the one old document with him. Patrick then got ready quickly for the new day with a bright white shirt and crisp pleated kilt and thumped his way downstairs to his daily routine.
He pulled out the Manor checkbook and flipped through the carbon copies of all the written checks. He then removed the old piece of paper carefully from his pocket. The signatures matched perfectly, however the older one with feather pen and faded with age. It looked fancier, more refined, but of course, it couldn’t be the same person, just genetically identical signatures. He would show Alesta later. She would find it quite intriguing, Patrick thought and maybe he’d get another history lesson.
The phone rang and Patrick answered.
“Patrick, it’s Monica.”
“Oh hi, good morning,” Patrick said.
“Hello! I’ve been trying to reach you guys, but I havny heard a thing.”
“Well, we’ve just been busy, there’s been a lot going on round here.” Patrick took the portable phone with him as he went to inspect the food supplies.
“Can I come over later?”
“Aye, sure. The place has been a bit slow. We only have one guest.”
“Right, well how about a late lunch? I just got off and I want to get a few hours sleep.”
“Yeah, sounds fine, I’ll see you later then,” Patrick reaffirmed.
“Good, I can’t wait.” Monica sounded happy, “Bye!”
“Bye!” Patrick was looking forward to the company after being alone all night.
The order to the Cannon’s Market was small just to get through to the end of the week, the Manor was booked solid again at the weekend, but Judy would be covering too. Patrick was excited to have the help. Thinking about it put him in a better mood.
He dialed another number and waited quite a while for an answer, “Hello?” he heard a click.
“Oh, uh Hi! Sorry, I was just on the other line.”
“Claire, Patrick here, we need you this weekend, same times as last.”
“Brilliant, I’ll be there!” Claire said pleased that work was finally becoming steadier at the Manor. “Is Alesta there, may I speak with her?”
“Uh, no, she’s probably sleeping now.”
“Oh yeah, I forget she’s up at night, well can you leave her a message for me?”
“Sure.” Patrick pulled out pen and paper.
“I don’t know if this is okay but I was going to ask her if she wants to hire me on weekends now and then more as the place books up more.”
“Well I’ll mention it to her and see what she says,” Patrick said. “Maybe I’ll even put in a good word.”
“Oh Patrick would you? That’d be great!” Claire said optimistically.
“Yeah, well why not aye?”
“Thanks, thank you so much. Well I’ll let you go then.” Claire said, “Bye Patrick.”
“Cheerio!” Everything was going well until Allister stormed in looking like hell.
“Patrick! I’m in need of a drink.”
Patrick with a surprised look said, “You sure? I just made some tea. Nice and fresh.”
“No, no a right stiff one. These long nights are just doing me in, I’m exhausted. I just don’t understand my new client. He’s like a night owl.”
“Some just work that way,” Patrick said.
“Ah know, Ah know, just give us a stiff one, what do you have?” Allister was a little frantic.
“Whiskey, scotch, anything you can think of.” Patrick waited with raised eyebrows.
“Right, whiskey then, whatever you have, just the sooner the better then.” Allister removed his coat and walked off into the living room, he sat wearily down on one of the big comfortable chairs.
Patrick brought out a double, figuring that Allister must be in great need and placed it down on one of the antique side tables. Allister was standing still now gazing off in the distance.
“Here’s your whiskey, just let me know if you need another or anything else.” Patrick paused but got no answer.
That Allister was a strange man Patrick thought and decided to just leave the tired and grumpy man be.
Judy woke up in a drenched sweat. Her sleep had been fragmen
ted and arduous. She did not feel rested; it was all just a bunch of dreams about the past, Cara and Ian. Again she had dreamed of the young man with no eyes, beckoning to her. It was just so creepy almost as if he was real.
The bed was cozy though and she just lay there cuddling her warm blankets. Getting up seemed like a chore at this point in the day so she continued on with her book. The ill-fated and tragic end was nearing and Judy pulled out a tissue from the tissue box next to her as she cried. She wiped her stinging eyes and blew her nose. Her Prince was dead and the Princess was left with their unborn child. But Judy loved a good story even if the ending was sad.
Now she was hot from getting all worked up and slipped on her slippers. Her room was all hard wood and Judy much preferred carpet. Maybe Alesta would allow her to put some in. She pulled back the lace curtains and pulled up the blind and looked out upon the misty water. Ian was always in the same place in her dream, down by the loch waiting. Judy wanted to go down there and take a look around and explore. The last time she had been out there was when she was looking for Patrick and she didn’t really pay much attention to the scenery as lovely as it was.
The hallway was quiet as Judy snuck out in her robe. All she wanted was a hot cup of tea and some toast.
“Good morning there!” Judy said to Patrick as he typed away.
“And to you as well. How was your sleep? Do you like it here so far?” he kept typing.
“Aye, I do, not too shabby. And as far as sleep, well it takes getting used to a new place you know.” Judy smiled, “How’s the kettle doing?”
Patrick looked up, “I could have brought you some up, I don’t mind when it’s not busy. Save you coming down in your robe.”
“Oh was I not supposed to?” Judy looked surprised.
“Well it’s fine if we have no guests, but when we do we are not supposed to.” Patrick said as he remembered he did the same the night before without thinking about it. “But don’t worry. It’s not a big deal Judy. Come on then, let’s go get our tea. I’m due another as well.”
“Yeah it’s that kind of day isn’t it, like it’s going to rain all day.” Judy followed Patrick into the kitchen and she sat down at the little breakfast nook by the small and quaint window.