“Oh my.” She slapped her forehead. “What could I have been thinking? I’ve made such a mistake. The name in that other novel wasn’t Renfield. It was… Let’s see. It was… It will come to me. Oh yes, it was Denfeld. That’s it. Denfeld. I’m so sorry I distressed you,” she soothed.
Lester still looked ruffled but retook his seat. He sipped at his wine. Did he swallow? He placed the glass on the table and then turned to Giselle. He removed the wineglass from her hands and set it carefully on the table beside his own. He took her hands in his. Lester’s felt clammy and Giselle squirmed uncomfortably.
He stared into her eyes again with some unspoken message. Giselle still didn’t receive it.
Just when she thought he would never speak, he said, “My dear Giselle, you are all I think about. I am in love with you.” The words seemed to blurt from him in a rush. “I cannot go on another day without you beside me as my queen. I want you to be with me for eternity.”
When she would have interrupted, he continued. “I will grant what I am certain is your greatest wish. I will make you a vampire. We will be undead together forever.”
Somehow Giselle didn’t find the prospect attractive.
She tried to speak and he quelled her again. “No, do not thank me. You do not need to be grateful. Although it is an enormous favor that I do you. It is also my pleasure to make you a vampire.”
This guy was clearly delusional and now he wanted to inflict his delusion on her. Not a good development since he had her hands trapped in his and she couldn’t reach her panic button. She had to put a stop to this nonsense forthwith.
“This is ridiculous. You don’t love me.”
“Yes. Yes I do. I really, really do. With all my heart.” He said it with a morose vehemence.
“Look into my eyes.” He spoke in a hypnotic monotone. “Deep into my eyes. I love you and you love me. You are devoted to me. You would do anything I ask.”
Was he trying to pull some kind of vampire mind control? Giselle pulled her hands from his grasp. “Come off it, Lester. This is just silly. If you’re trying to hypnotize me, it’s not working.”
Lester seemed startled as if he didn’t expect Giselle to disagree with him. He took Giselle by the shoulders. She was surprised by his strength. In fact, his grip pinched at her neck.
“Your mind is melding with my mind. You hear my words and you obey,” he droned.
Obey? Just who did he think he was talking to? And what was this about mind meld? That was a Vulcan thing, not a vampire thing. He’d made her angry now.
“You are madly in love with me and wish to do my bidding for eternity.”
She hoped his bidding wasn’t what she thought it was.
Lester leaned toward her. His mouth opened wider. Was he planning to kiss her? Eww. Wider. Wider. His head tilted. He intended to bite her neck. Wider. The candlelight glinted on something. Omigod he had fangs. He was a real vampire. Giselle wasn’t wearing a cross. Oh, why hadn’t she at least eaten garlic with lunch?
Giselle lunged upward, jerking away from his grasp. She grabbed her purse and smashed it and its contents upside Lester’s head. It made a thunking sound as it impacted his jaw. Then something went flying, tumbling out of his mouth. Giselle looked down at it on the carpet at her feet. Fang dentures.
She couldn’t help herself. Giggles became laughter, and soon became belly laughs. Then she reached a point where she laughed so hard that she had to wipe the tears of mirth flowing down her cheeks. It took at least a minute before she could even begin to control herself.
Lester’s head hung in shame. Giselle covered her mouth to stop the giggles that still threatened. He made such a pathetic sight that she found she could disregard his attempt to suck her blood. After all, it had been a pretty lame attempt. She sat down beside the depressed vampire on the loveseat.
“I had to have them made.” Lester pointed to the fallen prosthesis with a limp hand. “I had my own fangs filed down in the nineteenth century.” He looked even more abashed as he said, “I was trying to pass as human at the time.”
Giselle had to stifle more giggles behind her hand. “I see.”
What could she say to a neutered vampire to cheer him up? She put a comforting arm around Lester’s slumped shoulders. “I might know someone who could make you some gold ones.” She smiled with encouragement.
Before he could respond, Marissa La Bianca erupted into the room. “I knew it,” she shouted, her face stricken. “I knew you were with her.” Marissa’s paleness coupled with her filmy black dress made her appear like a mourner at a funeral.
Lester and Giselle jumped up. Why did Giselle feel so guilty? She had not encouraged Lester’s behavior.
Giant number two was behind Marissa in the doorway. “I’m sorry, Master. I couldn’t stop her.” He couldn’t stop her? He had at least three hundred pounds on her. How hard had he tried to stop her?
Lester waved Ren—or was it Field?—out of the room and asked him to close the door.
“Why are you doing this, Lester?” Marissa sobbed almost hysterically.
“Yeah. Why are you doing this, Lester? What are you doing, Lester?” Giselle asked.
“Marissa, I―” Lester looked at Giselle then back to Marissa again. “I don’t know what to say. I, uh, love, uh,” he swallowed hard, “her.” He pointed at Giselle. That made Marissa cry even harder.
“He so does not love me,” Giselle said. “I don’t know what this is about. But it’s not love.”
“You’re destroying me with all of this, Lester.” Marissa crossed to the dining table and took a knife from it. “I may as well kill myself,” she said in a theatrical voice, one arm sweeping in a big motion to hold the knife to her own throat.
Wait. Was it possible for a vampire to kill herself with a knife? Particularly with a butter knife? Hmmm.
Apparently Lester thought it was possible because he rushed to Marissa and grabbed the wrist of the hand that held the butter knife. They wrestled. If two wraithlike stick figures tussling over a blunt object could be called wrestling.
Lester twisted the knife away from Marissa. “Marissa, my lo— Marissa, you must get a hold of yourself. You know what I must do. I am going to make her my queen.” He swallowed hard on the last word.
For goodness’ sake. Did he have to make it sound as if the idea made him want to puke? Not that Giselle wanted to be his queen. But he could at least sound pleased at the prospect. Besides that, could a vampire puke? If they didn’t eat food, could they throw up? More hmmmm.
“Lester,” Marissa pleaded, tugging on the chest ruffles of his shirt. “Don’t do this. She can’t give you what you need.”
The poor pathetic girl, Giselle thought.
“She’s nothing.” Marissa said.
Hey, wait a minute.
“And she’s so round.”
“Now see here. There’s no need to get nasty,” Giselle sputtered. “I don’t want Lester. You can have him. I am not, I repeat, not going to be his queen or his anything else.”
Marissa broke away from Lester and stalked to within a foot of Giselle. “I’m going to get you, you, you…human.”
“Aren’t you human too? I mean you’re an undead human but still human, right?”
“Your silliness will not save you. I will get you,” Marissa said, pointing at Giselle in a gesture reminiscent of an Eastern European curse.
“Me? What did I do? If there’s any getting it should be him who you’re getting. He’s the one who’s been coming on to me. As far as I’m concerned, he’s absolutely one hundred percent yours.”
“You think you’re so clever, luring him to you when he’s vulnerable because of the tragedy.” Marissa’s blazed with anger and a crazy light.
Why did Giselle seem to inspire that look in people’s eyes?
“Hello in there. Is anyone home? Aren’t you listening? I give in already. He’s yours. I don’t want him. Besides, he’s not my type.” Giselle shouted the words.
“O
f course he is,” Marissa scoffed.
“No. He’s not!” Giselle waved her arms as if signaling a ship for emphasis. “I like my men to be alive.”
“I can pretend to breathe and have a heartbeat,” Lester interjected. “I pass very well for alive when I want to.”
“Arrrrr,” Giselle yelled in frustration. “Just shush it!”
Marissa rounded on her again. “You are a liar, a seductress. I know you want my Lester. But it will not work. You will see. I will get him back no matter what I have to do.”
Great.
Marissa grabbed Lester by the ruffles and planted a passionate kiss on his lips. Some pinkness gradually crept into his cheeks. Marissa released him and rushed from the room, slamming the door behind her. Lester looked after her longingly.
“Tell me what’s going on here,” Giselle said in a low, angry voice. “I’m just about out of patience with you.”
The Vampire Lester blinked to attention. “I don’t know what you mean, my darling,” The smarmy tone and smile had returned. “Let us forget all this unpleasantness.” He floated to Giselle’s side. “Let me have Ren and Field serve our dinner.”
Lester clutched at Giselle’s wrists, trying to pull her toward him. His mouth opened wider. Wider. Oh not this again. Giselle turned, breaking his hold and locking his forearm in her hands. She brought his arm behind his back and then forced it up toward his shoulder blades just as she’d been taught in self-defense class.
“Owwww. You’re breaking my arm,” Lester whined.
“Spill it. What’s going on?”
“I have fallen in, uh, love and want you to be my, uh, queen.” He seemed too gulp down the last word.
“Yeah sure. And I have some lovely waterfront property I’d like to sell you real cheap in Florida.” Giselle let up on the pressure but kept his arm locked in place behind his back.
“Why would I want to buy waterfront property in Florida? I cannot sit on the beach. I cannot tan. I would burst into flame in the sunlight,” Lester said seriously.
He really did have no sense of humor at all.
“Never mind that. Just tell me why this pretense.” Giselle pushed him away from her.
He turned, cradling his arm to him like a baby. Lester slumped down into a nearby armchair. “Why do you not believe me?” He peered up at her weakly.
Giselle glared.
“Oh all right,” he said after a few seconds. “I did it because I thought I could convince you to use your position at the magazine to write an article about the tragedy and to publicize my VICTIM organization.”
“What? That’s ridiculous. Why would you think that this charade would accomplish any such thing? It’s absurd.”
“No. No it’s not. If you become a vampire you would naturally be more amenable to our cause. And if you were my queen, then you would have to help me and my people.” Lester had warmed to the subject.
“Well, that makes some sense. Not much, mind you, but some. But let’s be crystal clear. I do not want you. And I do not want to be a vampire.”
Lester’s head bent with shame at her words.
“And furthermore, how could you do this to Marissa. She seems to genuinely care about you. She’s completely coo-coo of course, but she does seem sincere. Making me your queen would obviously hurt her feelings.”
Lester mumbled something.
“What? I didn’t understand that,” Giselle said.
“I wasn’t going to go through with it. I would have broken up with you after the article was published.”
Giselle could feel her hackles rising. Whatever the heck hackles were. “Oh, so you planned to bite, bam, thank you, ma’am. That’s very nice.”
“I’m sorry,” Lester squeaked.
“You certainly are. You’re one sorry bloodsucker. Bringing me here under false pretenses.” A thought occurred. “Hey! Is that why you sent Ren and Field to abduct me?”
Lester shook his head. “I told them to bring you to me. They misinterpreted my instructions.” At Giselle’s expression, Lester hurried to continue. “Do not worry,” he assured, “they have been chastised most vigorously for their mistake.”
“Chastised? Vigorously? I could have been killed. Wait a minute. How about those attempts on my life?”
“Oh no,” he jumped to his feet. “If someone has tried to kill you, it was not I.”
Giselle glared at him with one eyebrow arched.
“Why would I want you dead?” The words tumbled out. “I want you alive to promote the VICTIM cause in your magazine.”
That was true.
“What about Kopeleski?” Might as well try to get as much information as she could while he was guiltily spilling his guts.
Lester looked shaken. “My accountant? What does he have to do with any of this?”
“That’s what I’d like to know.” Silence. “Lester, this was all so needless. You don’t need to butter me up to write an article. I already told you I would talk to my editor about a story on your tragedy after I finish the ghost hunt article this weekend.”
“But VICTIM cannot wait!” His chest puffed with a proud air. “Every fifty seconds a vampire in America suffers discrimination―”
Giselle held up her hand to stop his words. “Yeah, yeah, yeah. I heard your recording. And I’d like to find out the source of that statistic by the way. But not right now. At this point, I’m less than twenty-four hours from being fired. I can’t help VICTIM unless I finish the ghost article. Comprendez?”
Lester looked confused but said, “Ah yes.”
Giselle gaped at him, disgusted. “Oh never mind. I’ve got to go.” On her way out, Giselle stopped in the doorway and looked back at Lester, silent and sallow in the flickering candlelight. A desolate sad sack with only his fake fangs for company. However, he no longer elicited feelings of sympathy in her.
She didn’t see either Ren or Field, whichever was which, on her way out. But when Giselle emerged from the castle, she also didn’t see someone else. She didn’t see Ry. His Jeep sat parked just where it had been when she’d gone inside, but he wasn’t in the driver’s seat or the passenger seat or anywhere else.
She did the only thing she could think of to find Ry. She called his cell phone. Ring. Ring. Ring. Voicemail.
What had Madam Divinity said earlier about Ry being in danger? Why hadn’t Giselle paid more attention? Probably because she didn’t think Madam had all that much psychic ability. In fact, she’d shown none at all. And Madam had been trying to come between Giselle and Ry when Madam gave her prediction. Okay, Giselle had to admit that she had also been severely mortified by the thong thing at the time. But her lack of attention to the danger warning had primarily been the result of Madam’s lack of credentials.
Giselle walked up the sidewalk and then down. No Ry in either direction.
This was all her fault. She’d done this to Ry. It was Giselle who had brought him here. In fact, if she hadn’t come to Savannah, Ry would be safely sitting at his desk, reading a car magazine right now.
She felt herself getting hysterical as she continued to search the neighborhood on foot. Then another thought occurred. This really was Ry’s fault. Why hadn’t he paid attention to his mother’s warning? He knew better than she whether his mother was psychic. Also, he was a professional. He shouldn’t be letting himself get disappeared. The fact that it was Ry’s fault didn’t bring Giselle much comfort.
Giselle tried Ry’s cell phone again. Ring. Ring. Ring. No answer. Although. Wait. She heard a faint ringing, but not through the phone she held to her ear. It rang in the distance. Damn. The ringing stopped. Voicemail again. Giselle tried Ry’s cell again. Once more, she heard ringing in the distance. She moved toward the sound. Dammit. The ringing stopped. Voicemail again. She redialed. Ring. Ring. It sounded closer now. In fact, it seemed to be coming from the lane behind Lester’s house.
Where could Ry be? She didn’t see him in the lane. Ring. Ring. The sound came from next to her now. She found the sour
ce lying near a garage behind the castle. A shrub growing out of the asphalt rang. Ry’s cell phone. Next to the phone lay Ry’s car keys.
It was Sunday at 9:20 p.m. She might have a ghost, but now Giselle had no Ry.
Chapter Fifteen
As she stood staring at Ry’s cell phone and car keys in one hand, Giselle’s cell phone chimed musically in the other.
“Hello?” She hoped it was Ry even though she had his cell. It wasn’t him. Instead she heard the voice of the owner of the antique store where Giselle had placed the ghost hunting equipment. It took Giselle a moment to understand what the woman said.
“And so our alarm company called the police since the motion detector went off near the front door as well as in the store interior.”
Giselle couldn’t speak. Why did the woman bother her with this? Ry was missing. Where could he be? He wouldn’t have left her or his car voluntarily. Something had happened to him. The thought caused more pain in her than it should have. Almost as if she couldn’t survive losing him. She pushed the thought away. She didn’t have time to think those thoughts now. She had to find Ry.
“Anyway, there was nothing stolen. But the police want to see if someone broke in anyway. I thought you might want to come and get your tape before the police confiscate it for evidence or something.”
The dilemma struck Giselle. She could have proof of the ghost or find Ry. There was no real choice to make.
Just when she would have spoken, the garage door beside her began to creep up with the machine whine of an automatic opener. The door shuddered to a stop and a huge car peeled away from Giselle and down the lane to the street beyond. She recognized that land boat. It was the same one she’d last seen moving away as she’d tumbled from its trunk.
She didn’t have time to get a license plate number this time either. What she did get was an impression of two hulking figures in the driver and passenger seats. Was Ry now an occupant of the trunk?
A Girl, a Guy, and a Ghost Page 19