by RWK Clark
Lucien rose and left quickly. Cliffside Wineries indeed, he thought. He supposed it was only right. His mother had told him on several occasions about the love for wine both she and his father had, and she had also let him know that his father had been a master at making wines. Yes, he would do what was right, but only for the sake of his father.
Lucien often thought about his father, the stranger Cyril DeSai. He had seen photographs and videos. His mother had told him much about him, at least from what she knew. The knowledge that his mother had taken him from this Earth was what drove Lucien’s murderous rage toward her. What would his life have been like had Cyril been in it? Certainly he would have been more prepared for his heritage than Rasia had made him.
He went outside and walked in the courtyard, enjoying the morning air that he so rarely got to breathe. He continued to think about Cyril and Rasia, and the more he pondered, the angrier he got toward that woman who called herself his mother. Oh, her end was coming soon.
He had plotted and schemed more furiously than ever lately, and on two recent occasions he had stooped to silly means in an effort to eliminate her from the face of the Earth. Four months ago he had introduced cyanide into a glass of Shiraz she had him pour for her; it had absolutely no effect, and the dose had been substantial. All that had happened was Rasia had become tired more quickly than usual and retired early for the night. When Lucien woke to find her at the breakfast table the next morning he had been furious, and he was forced to continue to bide his time and plan her death.
Then, only a month ago, he had snuck into her room while she was sleeping. He had worked up his courage and taken a huge risk: he injected her with a massive amount of tranquilizer while she slept. She hadn’t stirred, not even when he pricked her thigh with the needle. The next morning she appeared at the breakfast table as if nothing had happened yet again. Lucien ended up checking the expiration dates on the vials of drugs and found they had lost their potency at least two years ago. He threw them, and the accompanying syringes, in the incinerator.
After those two incidents he had come to a standstill. She was, indeed, a vampire, and short of doing to her what she had done to his father he had no idea what would work. All Lucien knew was that he wanted her dead. He often had to remind himself that his day with her would come, one way or another, and all he had to do was be patient.
He would have to come up with another way.
He had finally reached the solid conclusion that when the perfect opportunity arose he would take off her head, just as she had done to Cyril. He would be sure he had the strength first, of course, and that would not be until he was sixteen, or shortly thereafter. It wouldn’t do to have her knock him across the room as she had done when he tried to attack her at thirteen. No, he must make sure he was stronger than she, and the good news was that this was right around the corner.
He would indulge her demands and wishes until then. But Lucien knew that soon, very soon, Rasia DeSai would know how his father had felt the night she ripped his head from his body. He would pay her back for her sin, and he would wipe her out completely.
Lucien smiled and began to hum as he strolled.
Chapter 17
The limousine glided along the highway as if it were on rails. Rasia and Lucien sat in the back enjoying the relaxing ride, both of them sipping cold lemonade. They were on their way to Cliffside together for the first time in Lucien’s life, and although his initial reaction to her news of their trip that morning had been less than favorable, he found himself feeling a bit of excitement at seeing his father’s place of business.
Rasia had hoped that the two of them would chat on the drive. In the last two years her son’s scent had ceased to bother her, and she had attempted to reach out to him on numerous occasions. He was always far less than receptive, though, and this trip proved no different. She made a couple of attempts to engage him in conversation, but both times he responded to her efforts with single-word replies. She had finally given up, and their ride had continued in silence.
Lucien enjoyed the scenery, and the trip made him realize how much of the world he had never seen or experienced. Rasia had educated him fully on geography; he was aware of how large the planet was and all it held. Now, as he stared at the rolling, grassy hills his hatred toward her grew even more. Look at all he had missed!
He was still staring out his window when his mother said, “Look, Lucien, there it is!”
Lucien shifted his gaze to the windshield, and saw the massive stone structure. It was more a mansion than a place of business, but he should have expected that. It had been a private residence centuries ago. He could just see what he assumed were the vineyards off in the distance, and there were several other buildings which surrounded the main offices. He also took note of the parking lot, which was filled with vehicles.
Their driver took the long, narrow road that led to the main entrance, then pulled the car up to the double doors, which were situated under a great burgundy-colored awning. Lucien took note that the awning looked brand new, with no signs of weathering or wear.
“Well, here we are,” Rasia said with a smile as the limo came to a full stop. She turned to Lucien. “Are you nervous?”
“Of course not,” he replied.
“Well, good,” she said. “Then you will find this enjoyable, I believe. You will love your father’s taste in art and sculpture.”
They got out of the car and Lucien came around to his mother’s side, where he stood looking all around him, taking in as much detail as he could. It was certainly a beautiful place, he had to admit. He wondered what the people were like. Would any of them had known his father?
Rasia took him by the arm and began to lead him up the steps of the main entrance. “When Cyril stepped into the United States presidency he took up residence at the White House. Until then he resided full time right here,” she began.
The chauffeur opened the main entrance door for them, bowing slightly as they walked through the threshold. The door closed with a muted ‘swoosh’ behind them. Lucien’s mouth fell open as he looked around at the foyer; it was simply spectacular.
The paintings and sculptures were all dark in nature, but breathtaking in execution. Everything was done in red and black, and it suited the spirit of the place perfectly. He walked up to a gargoyle with long teeth perched on a pedestal; he would swear that the eyes of the statue were alive. He could not resist stroking the cold stone that made up its body. Poor, poor baby, he thought.
A strange female voice broke through into his thoughts. “Queen! It is wonderful to see you once again, and you have brought Lucien, our Master!”
“Yes, Shirley. Lucien, this is Shirley Louis. She is the executive assistant to main management, Martin Steenburg. She was also your father’s personal assistant before he moved to Washington,” said Rasia.
Lucien turned to the woman and smiled. She was attractive, in a dumpy sort of way, but he could see the great admiration in her eyes. She obviously cared about his father very, very much. He extended his hand to her, smiling.
“Hello, Shirley, I am Lucien,” he said.
The woman blushed a deep red and took his hand, bowing. “Oh, Master, there is no mistaking that! You are the spitting image of your father.”
This statement pleased Lucien to no end. It made him sick to think he may resemble Rasia in any way. He squeezed the woman’s hand warmly, then raised it to his lips and kissed it gently.
“You don’t know how much that means to me,” he said. “Thank you.”
Shirley blushed again. “And you behave like him as well.”
The woman was older, though she looked to be in her twenties. That was the best part of being a vampire, Lucien knew. Eternal youth. But even though she was attractive enough he felt no desire whatsoever; as a matter of fact, seducing her didn’t even cross his mind.
Rasia interrupted the woman’s worshipful trance. “Shirley, beginning today Lucien will begin to learn about the winery. Today
he will tour, meet the staff, and have his dinner here.”
“Would you like me to call a guide to accompany you?” Shirley asked.
Rasia shook her head. “No,” she replied. “I will do the honors myself, thank you.”
With that Shirley Louis bowed slightly, first to Rasia then to Lucien, and then walked away. Rasia turned to her son and smiled again.
“Are you ready? I thought I would show you around first. You can meet people as we encounter them, yes?”
Lucien nodded, feeling truly eager for the very first time. “Yes.”
The two walked into the main reception area. There was a main desk with a very young auburn-haired woman seated behind it. Others were milling around, but as soon as everyone became aware of Lucien and Rasia’s presence all activity ceased.
“Good afternoon, everyone,” Rasia began. She took Lucien by the arm once again, and though he cringed inside, he allowed her the luxury. “This is Lucien, the son of Cyril and I. He will be touring the facilities today.”
Gasps could be heard all around, then smiles broke out. His mother introduced him to all present, and each bowed down to him and kissed his hand when he offered it for shaking. Lucien found himself overwhelmed with the worshipful attention. It was beginning to sink in; he was, indeed, someone quite special.
First he and Rasia visited every office and room from the ground floor up. Lucien met everyone they came into contact with, and the reception they gave him was always the same. He met Martin Steenway, who proved to be nothing more than an attentive brown-noser, but what could be expected? Perhaps the man thought that Lucien intended to remove him from his position, but he had nothing to worry about.
Next Rasia took him to the other buildings on the property. In brief she explained the function and purpose of every single one, even taking him to the vineyards and the stables. He loved the carriages, and made a mental note that he and Isabella would visit here and take a ride, if she indeed came around to him again.
Lucien found he was completely taken with the entire wine making process. Everyone he met at each station would explain how things worked, and Lucien soaked up all the information like a sponge. He asked intelligent questions, and his mother even allowed him to sample one red wine and one white. She loved wine, and could not wait to share it with him, he could tell.
He found he had a taste for it as well, which only proved to stoke his interest in Cliffside. Yes, he would rule the world, but he would pay special attention to this little corner of it. He was excited, and he found he could hardly wait for the future.
When he and Rasia were done touring the grounds they returned to the main building, where they took a private room off the cafeteria. A rich dinner of escargot in wine sauce was served with wild rice and fresh green beans. For dessert they enjoyed a wonderful bread pudding, and Rasia allowed him to choose a glass of wine on his own to enjoy with his dinner.
It was, quite possibly, the only enjoyable day he had with his mother in his life.
When they were leaving the cafeteria Rasia stopped and turned to him. “Now I want you to see your father’s quarters.”
“His office?” Lucien asked. “Who uses it now?”
Rasia began walking again. “No one,” she replied. “Well, I do, when I need it. But it remains his and his alone.”
The grabbed the elevator at the far end of the hall and Rasia pushed the very last button. It was inscribed with the initials ‘CD’, which were done in fine script on the button. The elevator slowly began to move, and the two rode down in silence.
When the doors opened Lucien sucked in his breath. He slowly stepped out, overwhelmed by the sight before him. There was a long hall, dark and powerful. There were exquisite statues on rows of pedestals on both sides of the hall, all the way to the end. There were no man-made lights, only candles, which proved to be more than sufficient.
Lucien walked slowly toward the massive black double doors at the end, stopping to view and caress each and every sculpture on his way. At the very last one he took notice of the walls. The figures and images on it were alive and moving, living out violent yet beautiful scenes depicting lust and murder. It appeared, and smelled, as if these images were in blood.
The blood of those who are no longer living, he thought. This is perfect.
He stopped at the doors and turned. Rasia still remained next to the elevator. “What do you think so far?” she asked him.
Lucien sucked in his breath. “It is magnificent.”
“Yes, dear,” she replied softly. “I know.”
She approached him, sorting through a ring of keys in her hand. When she got to the doors she inserted a large black skeleton key set with a ruby into the single lock on the door on the right. It swung open slowly, showing only darkness, but as the two entered the room candles on the walls began to light, one by one.
Once again, Rasia remained by the door and allowed Lucien to freely roam. After all, this would be his; she had no right to stop him. He advanced slowly, beginning on his left, then working his way slowly in a circle around the room. He did not want to miss anything.
The office had the same incredible walls as the hall, but the sculptures inside were much more detailed and intense. Each and every statue had a face and eyes that were alive and knowing, and each depicted a scene of passion mixed with pain. He was completely enraptured by them all.
The fireplace was massive and black, like everything else. It had lit when they entered, allowing him to see the pair of chaise lounges before it, and the blood-red carpet that covered the floor beneath them. There was no dust, no dirt. Everything sparkled and shone, and he found he was very pleased with that fact.
Finally he came to his father’s desk. It was like everything else, but when Lucien stood before it his father’s presence became tangible to him. He looked at the pens and papers which sat quietly on top, and he could almost see Cyril DeSai sitting in the leather chair behind it.
He placed both of his hands palms-down on the surface of the desk. Suddenly he was filled with a warmth that was tinged with ice, and it crept through every vein in his body, coursing through him like blood. Then Lucien had a vision.
It was his mother and father. They were seated by the fire, his mother on one of the lounges, and his father on its edge. Cyril’s eyes were filled with love as he gazed at Rasia and spoke to her about his life. Lucien could hear the entire conversation between them, and he paid close attention to their words.
Then the two were making love. Lucien felt no shame or embarrassment at what he was seeing, even though he knew the sight to be the truth. He knew this had been their first time together, and he was aware fully that it would be their last. His father was showing it all to him.
He continued to stare at the desk, his vision obscured by the images in his mind’s eye. Now they were finished, and the look on his father’s face had changed from one of intense love to one of dire concern. Suddenly Rasia took his father by the hair and ripped his head violently from his body. The vision left him.
Lucien gasped aloud and jerked his head up. He turned to Rasia; she looked as though she had no idea of what he had just gone through.
“Do you like it, Lucien?” she asked simply. “It is to be yours. I hope it suits you.”
He held her gaze. “Yes, it will do,” he replied in a low voice.
She was nothing more than a selfish murderess who deserved everything she got. He found he was more than happy to be the one to give it to her. How he could hardly contain himself at the thought of revenge! She had stolen his father, and he would take her life someday very, very soon.
Lucien straightened his face and muffled the fury within him. “It is actually perfect, Mother,” he continued, his voice lightening. Rasia knit her brow; his disposition had just shifted drastically, from good to bad, then to good once again. She felt uncomfortable, but pushed it aside.
“You are free to make any changes you like when you take over, but I think it is perfect here,”
she stated lightly.
He looked around one final time and took a deep breath. “No,” he told her. “No changes will be necessary. I couldn’t imagine a better sanctuary of peace than this.”
With that Lucien turned to her abruptly. “I am quite tired now, surprisingly. Are you ready to head home?”
Rasia searched his face and nodded slowly. “Yes,” she said. “Let’s go. We will return often enough in the near future.”
Together the two of them left the office, which Rasia locked up tightly. They took the elevator back to the main floor, and soon enough they had bid farewell to the staff on site. In no time they were back in the limo, heading for Washington, DC and the White House.
The drive home was silent. Rasia did not press him for opinions or thoughts. She assumed the sight of Cliffside, especially his father’s former office, had affected Lucien in a powerful way. She wanted to let him be with his own mind.
Lucien, on the other hand, was not thinking of Cliffside at all. He was pondering his mother’s death. He was daydreaming of her blood running through his hands.
Chapter 18
Rose and Isabella sat at the breakfast nook in their kitchen. They had just had breakfast and were now chatting about Isabella’s current college lessons. It had been six weeks since they had received the invitation to Lucien’s birthday, and Isabella had come around exceptionally well.
After a short silence Rose spoke. “Lucien has been learning about the workings at Cliffside Wineries. He has toured it, and Martin Steenway, the man who runs it, has been teaching him the ropes.”
Isabella continued to gaze out the window. “So, he will take over operations there?”
“Yes and no,” Rose replied. “His primary responsibility will be to the Family, but the winery will be his. It is important that he learn it. According to Rasia he has taken to it like a fish to water. It seems he is a natural winemaker.”