“And?”
“After several months of diligent work, I uncovered a staggering fact. My theory of why you could not bring yourself to kill me. I bear an uncanny resemblance to your former lover, Count Levente Tepes.”
Angelique’s lips parted as her face lengthened. “I think maybe you should go now.”
Indeed, as I had learned from firsthand experience, vampires are not heartless. Hearing his name, I had served up an emotional dagger, right through her heart. “So, I am right?”
Speechless, she nodded while staring down at her wineglass. Softly, she began, “I … we were in love. But Levente was consumed with returning the Tepes name to the throne of Romania. The Countess was of Hungarian royalty. He loved me, but I did not fit into his grand scheme of uniting our two countries. That is when Monique plotted to kill the Countess, believing Levente would then take me as his wife. As we were cousins, this would give Monique access to power she so deeply craved. I gladly would have waited for the Countess to die a natural death, but Monique’s lack of patience became my ultimate punishment.
“When you arrived at the Convent, at first glance, I was sure my eyes, after all the long years, were deceiving me. After entrancing you, your true purpose became clear. But the mere resemblance to the Count was so overpowering, I could not bring myself, or allow the others to bring harm upon you.”
“Wow,” I exclaimed. “It’s a damn good thing I did not get my looks from my mother’s side of the family.”
“So good fate was on your side. Your father must be a very handsome man.”
“Was. He has been dead a great many years.” Not sure the confession was intended for Angelique or myself, but verbally acknowledging his death to Angelique forced unexpected sadness. “I should fill in the story, after your exile. After you were banished Countess Szekeres returned to Hungary, Monique’s attempt on her life bringing an end to the marriage. Two hundred years passed before Levente married again, this time to Elisabeta Dragomire of Transylvania. At this time, the world had new enemies; one of the greatest was Communism. In an effort to ensure their domination over all the countries they conquered, they systematically hunted down all remnants of the royal families in their ever-expanding empire. Elisabeta bore Levente a son during this era, but to ensure his safety, they sent their only child to America, out of harm’s way until it was safe for his return. The exact date is unknown, but it is presumed Elisabeta and Levente perished sometime in the fifties.
“The child grew into manhood in America, his dark lineage unbeknownst to him. His name, Neculai Tepes. The aunt who raised him called him Nicholas.”
Angelique’s head snapped to attention, her eyes eagerly searching mine. “You?”
“Yes, Levente Tepes was my father.”
Angelique’s mouth gaped open. “How can this be?”
“As it appeared my grandfather discovered centuries ago, a vampire can reproduce when mating with a mortal. But you might have already known that fact back in my father’s day, or certainly discovered it after Sabine’s pregnancy.”
“What do you know of Sabine and her child?” Angelique’s tone was bitter, as if the missing child had been her own.
“I know the baby’s father was a Convent guard. I know he took her away, keeping her safe from becoming like Sabine. I know she grew to be like me, immortal, but not cursed.”
Awaiting full disclosure, Angelique’s anticipation was evident.
“I know her name, and I know where she is living.”
Once again, I became aware of Angelique’s attempt to enter my thoughts. Her frustration was evident with another failed attempt.
“I know what you are trying to do and I promise your skills are not diminishing.” I smiled, revealing for the first time my glistening razor sharp fangs.
“How did this happen?” Aghast by the sight before her, she recoiled into her chair.
“If she were not dead, you could ask Monique. But as she is quite deceased in the full Biblical sense, that conversation will prove quite difficult.”
Angelique’s wineglass slipped to the floor, splintering into tiny shards. Covering her mouth, tears welled in her eyes.
“It’s all right, Angelique. Although I much prefer my old teeth, it’s not as bad as it looks.”
“I … I am so sorry. It was you father’s dream, that he would have a mortal son, one that might break the Tepes curse. And now, even in death, I have failed him once more.”
There was a deep-rooted expression of sorrow, one not quite befitting the grief she claimed, one of a peculiar nature that shadowed her obvious grief.
“I need to show you something,” she replied stoically.
Rising from the couch, she stepped over the broken glass, and reached for my hand. Guiding me to the short hallway, she softly opened the bedroom door. The light from the hallway illuminated a crib in the corner. “Come.”
Sleeping quite peacefully under a quilted blanket was the silhouette of an infant.
I looked to Angelique, appalled by my twisted thoughts running amok. “Angelique, what have you done?” I whispered. “To whom does this child belong?”
Ignoring my question, her faced glowed as she gazed down. “Is he not beautiful?”
Fully absorbing the details of the sleeping child, possibly for the first time in my life, I began to study its details. A serenity existed unique to all babies not yet burdened by the cruelties of the world. In hushed but sterner tones I repeated my question. “Angelique, I must know where this baby came from.”
“He is my son, and now it appears, the grandson of your father. And you, Nicholas, you are his father.”
Instantly her words broadsided me like a freight train; the Maison Dupuy, the rose on my bed, memories flashed before my eyes. In the night, she had come to me; spellbound I did as she commanded. I was dumbfounded, only able to stare … at my son.
In all of my wildest dreams did I ever contrive parenthood as a personal option. Having never known my father, the dynamics of that type of relationship were never experienced, and therefore never known to be lacking. Sam and I certainly had never even broached the subject of children in all the months we had been together. Shit! Samantha. True she had proven to be the most understanding and accepting woman I had ever known, but surely, if there were a straw to break the camel’s back, this might prove to be a log of bone-crushing proportions. I continued to study the child, so serene, so mine. I was so screwed, literally. Still, at a loss for words, Angelique kindly broke the silence.
“When I laid with you, I did not expect this to happen.” Angelique was smiling at the baby, unabashed by her actions. “When I first laid eyes on you, all of the emotions of two hundred years came rushing back. The passion we shared, I so desperately needed to relive the fervor.
“Relive?” I quipped. “I hope my father was not comatose when the two of you … you know.”
“You were not comatose. Although you have no memory of it, in fact you were quite the contrary. That is why I returned to your hotel.”
“Returned?” I asked, my voice escalating. The dread of yet another confession to Sam loomed.
“The Convent I have already explained. Your hotel happened because I wanted more. And now, here you are.”
“There is no next time,” I interrupted sternly. “I am with someone.”
The baby stirred at the harshness in my tone. Focusing on his obvious discomfort I had created, I calmed my voice. In the gathering silence, he drifted back into peaceful sleep.
“What is his name? Whispering again, I looked into Angelique’s eyes with a hodgepodge of newly discovered emotions. I desperately wanted to hold her, to experience the passion she claimed we shared, and suck the life from her all at the same time.
“I gave him his father’s name,” she said with a proud smile of satisfaction. “To honor the man who ended two hundred years of misery.”
“Brian,” I called, as I looked down at my child. Suddenly, an unexpected wave of joy and pride swo
oned over me. “Angelique,” I began, redirecting my attention away from the baby. “I am sorry if I sounded harsh, but I am committed to another woman.”
“Committed, or in love?” Angelique was searching my expression, or tone, for any doubt looming in my reply.
“Love.”
“Then I am happy for you, Nicholas. It is true I knew the day would come when our paths would cross again, and I had fantasized our being together, as one family. But in light of who I now know you are, it would bring a great dishonor to your father, to pursue his son.”
Angelique’s words poured true from her lips. Without having to rely on my vampire intellect, I could see it in her eyes.
“But I cannot undo what has been done. So it is with great desire I pray you will allow our child to be a part of your life, to allow your father’s legacy a chance to be realized. But I understand the difficulties this may present with your current life, so if you refuse I will understand.”
“He is my son. How could I not be a part of his life, despite being an unwilling participant in the act of creation?”
“You were quite willing,” Angelique offered, smiling slyly.
“Okay, unconscious then.”
Angelique chuckled at the memory only she was privy to. “This woman of yours, she must be exceptional.”
“That she is. In more ways than you could imagine. Although this little revelation may prove to be quite the test of her fortitude.”
“If she does not understand, please know, you are welcome to return here.”
The baby stirred again.
“I should go.” Kissing my fingers, I lightly touched the baby’s forehead. In a most content fashion, he sighed deeply as Angelique looked on with pleasure.
Following me to the hall, Angelique propped her face against her hands and leaned on the door. Whether by design or not, her thoughts opened to me without reserve. Experiencing her longings for the love lost and hurt, over what she dreamt would be, I could not help but pity this beautiful woman before me. As with Gabrielle, there was a kindred love that was undeniably unstoppable. “We still have much to discuss, but I think there’s been enough bombshells dropped for one night.”
Angelique nodded in agreement.
“Angelique, I hope you will believe me, I no longer have any desire to harm you, or Sabine. But I also have to make sure things are put right. I cannot have humans dying because of my gross negligence in New Orleans.”
Angelique placed her hand gently on my shoulder. “Nicholas, your father dreamt of a peaceful coexistence with humans, a vision I too shared before I was banished. We both knew the path to this goal was a child of two worlds. One that would dispatch the fears and mend the bonds of a broken nation.”
“Fix a broken nation? What a head-trip; Nicholas Tepes, deliverer of the vampire race. Now, all four of us.”
Angelique looked down the hall to the bedroom. “At least five,” she said with a warm smile.
“Is he?” The sudden realization of his potential predicament caused my dead heart to skip a beat.
“I think he will be exactly like his father. Handsome, brave, strong, immortal, and enjoy a well-cooked cuisine.”
A wave of relief blew through me. “Would it be alright at some point in the near future, if she does not run away, or scour me with holy water, to bring Samantha over?”
“I would hope so. If he is to be part of your life then logically, she will have to accept him as well.” Angelique placed a hand on each of my shoulders. “Nicholas,” she began. My name rolled off her lips in tones so inviting they made me feel like melting butter. “I never wanted to see you harmed in this way. You will never understand how badly it hurts. Your father would have been devastated. I will live with this failure the rest of my unnatural life.”
“Angelique, as a wise man once told me, none of what has transpired has been by accident. It is as it was meant to be. My destiny. I am a vampire for a reason, to fulfill a greater purpose, other than my own perceived happiness or misery.”
“You have talked with Daniel, haven’t you?”
“You have had that same conversation?”
“With him, his father, and his father’s father.” Apparently, the memory brought a certain degree of happiness as she smiled broadly.
The aspect of three generations of “Danielisms” created a similar reaction for me. “So what do you think ol’ Daniel is doing now?”
“Eating pineapples. He always wanted to go to Hawaii.”
“I hope he brought lots of sunscreen. He was whiter than you.” Sharing a laugh at Daniel’s expense, I marveled at how at ease I had become.
“Me? Have you looked at yourself in a mirror lately?” Angelique quipped.
“Thanks to Monique, I don’t suffer the mirror’s benefits or vanities any longer.”
Sensitive to my father’s dreams of breaking a generational curse, Angelique’s smile vanished as rapidly as it arrived, the result of my mindless joke.
Instinctively I pulled her close, bringing her face snugly against my shoulder. “It is all right. Kids rarely turn out like their parents dream anyhow. Together, we will find a way to fulfill my father’s dreams, all right?”
Angelique pulled away, again tears filled her eyes. “I am sorry. This is just so very hard for me. I loved him more than you can know. And you, in many ways, are just like him. You will accomplish great things, just as he would have.”
I kissed her cheek. “I will see you soon, we must find Sabine.” I turned to leave.
“Nicholas,” Angelique called in a sullen tone just as I reached the elevator.
The emptiness in her voice bade me to continue on my path. Counterintuitive to the disaster I knew awaited delaying my departure, I turned.
Angelique steadied herself in the doorway, tears trickling down her cheeks. “I can’t help but love you,” she said in broken words. “But apparently this continuing breaking of my spirit is just another punishment I must endure.”
As she sank to the floor, I resisted the overwhelming urge to return to her side.
“Your father married Countess Èvike, it was a decision for the good of our country and our people. After Monique’s failed attempt on her life, we were sentenced, then sealed in a casket, and placed on a ship bound for America for a crime I had no part of. Out of heartache, I accepted my fate. Two hundred years I waited.
“It was you who freed me, not only from the Convent, but from chains of a life void of passion. You gave me a child.” Angelique looked through the ceiling of her apartment toward the heavens. “I know I have not earned forgiveness, but every night I pray he will lift this curse and allow me to love as I once did.” She bowed her head down. Tears cascaded from her face, dampening the black fabric of her dress.
“Angelique.” I could not go to her without compromising everything I felt for Sam. If I held her now, I would be lost in the barrage of emotions I felt for this woman. “We have a bond which exceeds the boundaries of my love for Sam and I will not pretend I know quite how to handle it. In as much as you love me, I love you as well. In part, it is instinctive to our race. The rest, hell, I do not have a clue. But I promise you, I will do everything I can to set you free.”
Angelique looked up, her expression of understanding afforded me the emotional opportunity to leave.
“I will see you soon.” Leaving her apartment the need for a drink hit hard. In the old days, beer, and lots of it. Tonight, AB positive.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
FRUSTRATED BY THE continued string of events that were out of my control, yet I was responsible for, I yearned for the old days. Kill the bad guys; accomplishing the purposes of my making held a calming satisfaction I could never recreate elsewhere. I was frustrated … and thirsty. Thirsty for something a little more exotic than my home supply, I don’t know why, but the rarer the blood, the more euphoric the experience. I headed off to the blood bank at Sixty Seventh and Second Avenue.
A faint light omitted from the window of
the interior stairwell leading to the refrigeration unit on the third floor. Before ascending the wall, I noticed the steel door was not completely secure. Pulling it open quietly. I detected muted voices from above. Creeping into the vestibule, I ascended, gliding step by step up the dusty stairwell. At first glimpse I counted five men and three women, all dressed in the costume rejects from the movie The Lost Boys. The one perched on the highest step took immediate exception to my presence.
“Can I help you?” Immediately, all of his companions veered around, alarmed by his stern inquisition.
Aroused by the aroma of blood filling the stairwell, I continued my ascent. I was ready to feed, and these fools were in the path. “You do not belong here, leave now.”
A gauntlet of idiots cradling half emptied donor bags all looked to the top of the stairs for their leader’s rebuke. Apparently, they had already pilfered the refrigeration unit.
“No,” the lanky fellow at the top hissed as he flashed a rather genuine looking set of pearly spikes. “You need to leave while I am feeling generous.”
Sensing his mortal insecurities, I realized I had stumbled into the New York chapter of the Freakazoid Breakfast Club. “Wrong place, wrong time … last chance to get the hell out.”
“Ooooo.” As he taunted, several laughed in allegiance. “I tell you what, skank, if you get the fuck out of here right now, I might let you live.”
“Yeah, get the fuck out,” several others echoed.
One thing I never tolerated well was phonies. Disrespectful phonies I loathed even more. I marched right up middle of the club meeting, forcing several to remain seated as I passed. Grabbing King Douche by the throat, I elevated him off the floor, then slammed him against the wall. One of the more ignorant pawns began to rise to his defense. A swift sidekick to the head sent him careening down the stairs, the collateral pin action collecting a few of his bros in the process.
I stared intently into Count Fake-ula’s terror-filled eyes. I forced his mouth open, exposing his rather elaborate, high-priced dental work. Just as I broke off the first artificial fang, two more of the goon patrol scurried to his defense. With a sweeping motion of my hand, they tumbled down the stairs head over heels.
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