Finally getting out of bed, she discovered the braziers were all in fact cold and dead. It didn’t seem possible she had seen so much in them. It was both fascinating and humbling how different the world could look and feel when some of her intricate physiological pathways were chemically altered. For thousands of years, maybe even more, mankind had been relying on hallucinogenic substances to penetrate and probe the mystery of what could loosely be termed other dimensions of reality. The ancient Egyptians had indulged in an extract of the Blue Lotus. South American shamans had peyote. The list was extensive. As she showered, Audrey entertained herself by mentally counting as many cultures and their preferred ritual substances as she could remember. Whenever she had asked him about such things, her father had told her all he knew without seeming to worry she might be tempted to experiment with drugs herself one day. His faith in her good sense had been rewarded. She had smoked hashish a few times with Aapti and rather enjoyed it, but not until last night had she wrestled with the effects of a truly mind-bending substance. And she was still, pun intended, of two minds about it. Her mortal clay, as the expression went, had been molded in some rather interesting ways last night by whatever it was she had drunk believing it was only wine. She felt fine now; no harm appeared to have been done. And there was no denying it had been quite fascinating to feel as though her awareness was a goddess gazing benevolently down on a world created by smoldering coals, her breath either a life-giving breeze or a destructive gale force wind…
She avoided the sight of her face in the vanity mirror because the bright lights were not at all flattering to the complexion. She was only thirty and already she thought she could detect fine lines radiating from the corners of her eyes and mouth. Before she knew it she would be an old woman.
She entered the bedroom again feeling like an actress leaving her well lit dressing room and stepping onto a cold stage where the furniture and props had all been left in place for the night’s performance.
She chose to wear black yoga pants, a thigh-length aqua-marine sweater and comfortable black leather walking shoes. She needed to feel she was on solid ground, at least literally. A dress and high-heels would have been sexier but they would also have made her more vulnerable.
Like a sailor fallen into choppy waters in the middle of nowhere reaching for a life-line, she thrust a hand into her purse and fished blindly for her cell phone. She couldn’t find it. Squatting, she emptied the contents of her bag across the dragon-embroidered rug, defying its ferocious aspect because she was suddenly as furious as she was frightened. How dare he?! While she slept in the limousine, Falkon had stolen her phone! Her body was still warm from the hot shower but fear was swiftly taking chilling root in her belly, spreading breathtaking tendrils of anxiety up into her chest which threatened to constrict her heart’s stubborn optimism. It was vital she weed this fear out of her system at once or she wouldn’t be able to function. Her mother would explain everything! Her mother wouldn’t let anyone hurt her!
With painfully forced calm, she put everything back in her purse. For the moment, she succeeded in dulling the sharpness of her fear so it didn’t cut into her ability to think coherently, yet it was still there and blending in a demoralizing way with gut-wrenching disappointment. She had been hoping it was Jonathan who had rung her last night when she was in the limo. She deliberately hadn’t checked her voicemail before going to bed reasoning that in the middle of night her disappointment would be harder to deal with than during the day if it wasn’t in fact Jonathan who had called and left her a message. She still couldn’t forget, much less comprehend, how she had reacted to the sight of a wolf trotting purposefully between the castle and the trees, for all the world as if it was patrolling the grounds. High on whatever drug Falkon had given her, for an exultant moment she had been certain the wolf was really Jonathan, the man she was falling in love with… the man she was in love with. Because he owned a large black dog resembling a wolf, her chemically unhinged mind had gone off the paranormal deep end. That wasn’t the only reason, of course, but now certainly wasn’t the time to think about it. She trusted him. That was all she wanted to remember right now.
Her watch told her it was twelve-thirty in the afternoon even though the overcast day made it look like twilight already. Hanging her purse from her shoulder and vowing to sleep with it tonight so no one could steal her wallet with her IDs or anything else, she strode to the door and, holding her breath, turned the knob. Thank God! She had feared it might be locked but she wasn’t trapped like Rapunzel in a tower after all, and a good thing too because her hair was only shoulder-length and as far as she knew wolves couldn’t climb stone walls, only vampires could…
Out on the landing, she hesitated. It was seriously annoying no one had bothered to wake her by bringing up a breakfast tray. Every time her stomach grumbled it aggravated the cramps of anxiety she needed strength to suppress. Which way to go? Should she retrace her steps from last night and see if the door through which she had entered the castle would open for her? Once outside she could get a lay of the land and search for the front door. That was a reasonable but uninteresting option. Her silent guide had taken one of the two passages looming on either side of her and one of them perhaps led to her mother. In any case, she would eventually run into someone who could point the way for her. If she chanced upon the kitchen, so much the better. She would beg some lunch before facing Falkon and her mother and perhaps even the man Wilona had left her family for, Stuart’s mysterious rival.
She was right handed. Her body was instinctively inclined to head in that direction so she deliberately turned left; it felt like more of an adventure.
The stairwell spiraled steeply downward and she had to go slowly for it was illuminated only by narrow windows through which barely any light shone. Going around and around she concentrated on her footing because it would have been too easy to trip and possibly break her neck in the fall…
Quickly she suppressed the thought. Last night the room she had been idly imagining had materialized welcomingly before her. She had actually slept mysteriously cocooned in what might have been her own vivid fantasy. It was increasingly clear to her it was a mistake to underestimate the power her thoughts possessed to affect, perhaps even shape, reality. Whatever happened could always be filed under the rational label of coincidence, but it struck her then that her normal way of thinking was like a stuffy office crowded with rusting old-fashioned file cabinets while right next door, on the other side of a paper-thin wall, a pristine quantum computer was flashing lights as brilliant a blue as the hottest stars in the universe…
By the time she reached bottom she had attained so much momentum she couldn’t stop herself from running into the person who suddenly appeared at the foot of the steps.
“Audrey, my baby!”
A tall woman’s yielding body pressed against hers, holding her close as soft hair cushioned her cheek and the wonderful perfume she inhaled bloomed inside her as a lovely bouquet of emotions—she was safe, cared for and loved, everything was going to be all right!
“Mommy!” she sobbed, closing her eyes as all the tension of the last few days, and the last couple of decades, flowed out through her clinging arms into her mother’s tender support.
⊕
“Isn’t it magnificent?” Wilona demanded.
Audrey looked around her. The half-moon shaped room was remarkably spacious. One long floor-to-ceiling window curved gently around islands of furniture. The view was stunning—miles of woodland and rolling hills culminating in distant snow-capped mountains.
“Yes,” she said, “it’s beautiful.”
And so was her mother. Wilona was as tall as she remembered and her bright auburn hair fell in dense, almost cartoon-like waves all the way down to her waist. From her arms—flung open as she proudly showed off her home—hung long sleeves tapering to sharp points, part of a white silk gown clinging to her full breasts and narrow hips before flowing all the way down her long legs, which wer
e nevertheless partially exposed below the knee by two slits in the cloth. It was a gorgeous yet odd garment evocative of a Medieval tunic except for the amount of cleavage it revealed; in that respect it was more like a nineteen-sixties vintage party dress.
“Come here, sweet, and have a seat.” Wilona led her over to a bone-white leather couch, one of several ultra-modern living room sets arranged throughout the room facing the window and the amazing view.
Audrey sat down obediently, setting her purse on the cushion between her and her mother. After their first blindingly emotional embrace, she had begun to feel a little uncomfortable with this woman who looked a little too much like a supermodel showing her around the magnificent set she was working on, except this was where she lived. The black-and-white décor was so minimalist, and the view so contrastingly colorful, it didn’t just look it felt torn from the pages of a magazine. It was unsettling to gaze outside and be able to see for miles without discerning a single road or human dwelling of any kind. Also contributing to the surreal atmosphere was how fast the clouds had dispersed and the sun come out, all in the short time she had spent in the stairwell.
“So,” Wilona said brightly, reaching for a silver cigarette case as she flashed Audrey an encouraging smile, “tell me about yourself! I want to know everything!”
She watched her mother light the fag and blow a long stream of smoke from between her lips, painted with a state-of-the-art shining dark-red gloss that left no mark on the white paper.
“Has the cat got your tongue, Audrey? Talk to me, love.”
“I wouldn’t know where to begin.”
“Anywhere! I’m starved to know all about you! Do you have a boyfriend?”
Once again she remembered the wolf prowling around the grounds last night and said firmly, “No.”
“But I’m sure there have been men in your life.” Wilona leaned forward and tapped her cigarette against a white alabaster ashtray. Her nails were old-fashioned—long and sharply rounded instead of filed square at the ends—and perfectly matched her lipstick. “You’ve grown up as lovely as I knew you would.”
Audrey met the large dark-brown eyes so similar to hers and abruptly understood what had been bothering her ever since she extricated herself from her mother’s embrace, and looked up at her face for the first time in more than two decades. Wilona didn’t appear to have aged a single day. She had been thirty-years-old when she disappeared from her home in Ashbury twenty-two years ago. Her pulse sped up. The woman seated beside her looked much more like her sister than her fifty-two-year-old mother. Hair dye, plastic surgery, Botox, a healthy lifestyle… they might have served to explain her splendid appearance if it hadn’t been for all the fags crowding the large ashtray.
“Mommy, you still look so… so young!”
Wilona’s tireless smile widened, narrowing her eyes and seeming to sharpen her gaze. She drew slowly on her cigarette. Catching the light, the tiny gold crosses hanging from her pearly earlobes flashed blindingly for an instant. “You really haven’t guessed yet, Audrey?”
She shook her head. If her own mother began playing the vampire game with her she would lose it…
“Well…” With her free hand, Wilona reached out and gently stroked her daughter’s face, her expression at once wistful and determined. “You’ll find out soon enough. But right now you should have some lunch. Your stomach is making an awful racket.”
Chapter Eleven
While Wilona went to see about lunch, Audrey paced the room searching for something, although it was hard to say what for. According to custom, the castle had been built at the highest point in the landscape but had obviously been extensively remodeled. Whoever had decorated this particular space had simply used a 3-D version of cut-and-paste; everywhere the couches, chairs and tables perfectly reflected each other. Wilona was clearly not an art lover, which was surprising because she remembered her mother’s bedroom as being filled with beautiful things, and there had always been a vase of fresh flowers sitting on her vanity, a daily gift from her loving husband.
Standing before the window, gazing out at tree tops below her and mountains on the horizon, she suffered the curious sensation of being trapped in a bubble.
She hugged herself. This particular wing of the castle was like a refrigerator, perhaps a result of the highly efficient ventilating system that kept the carpets and furniture from stinking of cigarette smoke. She couldn’t detect any scents at all.
The window was so spotlessly clean it almost didn’t seem to be there. She was compelled to touch it, and couldn’t suppress a gasp when her fingers stuck to it as though it was made of ice and not glass. It couldn’t possibly be that cold outside, not with the sun shining so brightly. There were a few clouds in the sky but the quality of the light never changed.
“Good afternoon, Audrey.”
She turned and her breath caught, this time as the result of the warmth igniting between her legs at the sight of the man standing before her—Falkon, looking even taller than she remembered him. He was wearing a black leather vest over a full-sleeved black shirt, black leather pants and boots. He had let his hair down and it fell softly to his shoulders around his hard face.
“Good afternoon, my lord.”
Her turned his head slightly.
She followed his gaze. An amazingly large moth had somehow found its way into the room.
“Oh my!” she exclaimed. “It’s beautiful! We have to save it. Is there a window we can open?”
“I’m afraid not,” he replied indifferently while the moth fluttered frantically around him. “But I wouldn’t worry. She chose to be here.”
“What do you mean? It has no idea where it is.”
He held out his hand.
The moth promptly alighted on his open palm, its delicate white-gold wings coming peacefully to rest against each other.
“You see?” He smiled. “There’s nothing to be afraid of.”
“May I please have my phone back?”
He lowered his hand and the moth began flying around him again.
“I don’t believe you suffer from a lack of imagination, Audrey.” He approached her slowly. “I also know how intense and determined you can be. Unfortunately, all you’re determined to do at the moment is deny everything you already know. Your modern rational mind is yanking you around like a puppy desperately seeking to mark the limits of reality.”
Unable to move, she had no choice but to stare up into his eyes as he cupped her face in his cool hands. She saw a fire burning at the center of both his pupils... like torches leading her somewhere… into a fire lit room where she slipped her arms around his neck and moaned with longing as he pressed her body fiercely against his. His kiss was a battle she had already lost. She knew how swiftly his hands could conquer the barriers erected by her clothing, his fingers merciless soldiers dipping greedily into the treasure of sensations secreted away in her flesh…
Sometimes when she was having a nightmare she would abruptly realize she was asleep and make a desperate effort to move her body where it lay on the bed. The effort always woke her and she experienced a similar sensation as she jerked away from the man she was clinging to as though her life depended on it.
She covered her face with both hands so she wouldn’t have to look at him or at anything else in a room that offered her heart no support whatsoever. The furniture was expensive but impersonal, like the kind she imagined could be found in a high-end plastic surgeon’s office. She was tired of having her perceptions poked and prodded and otherwise messed with as though they could be better, even more mysteriously beautiful and desirable. She wanted her awareness to stay the way it was, imperfect, wrinkled with uncertainties…
“Audrey, look at me.”
She resisted but in truth she wanted to and she had to because his hands were around her wrists and gently but inexorably forcing her to.
“Where’s my mother?” she demanded. “She promised she’d be right back!”
“Wilona
is easily distracted.” He transferred his hands to her neck. “Unlike her daughter, who is the fruit of a much older and infinitely richer bloodline, as she will soon realize.”
“Why are you talking about me in the third person? I’m standing right here.”
“Are you? Do you really have any idea where you are?”
She waited for him to smile and raise a sardonic eyebrow, thereby clueing her into the fact they were merely continuing the game he had begun in the limousine, but instead his expression was intensely serious.
“No, I really don’t,” she admitted. “For all I know I’m still asleep in the limousine and only dreaming all this.”
Wilona said matter-of-factly, “I never dream anymore” as she suddenly appeared carrying a large tray.
Audrey stared at it in dismay; her stomach was so filled with the proverbial butterflies she had completely lost her appetite. The moth was also gone. She hoped it had somehow found its way out.
Wilona set the tray down on the nearest table. As she bent over, her cleavage was temptingly displayed.
Audrey watched with a nauseous blend of emotions as Falkon moved toward her mother, who straightened slowly, her eyes intent on his face while the expression on hers fluctuated from one second to the next—fear, longing, anger, desire, despair and hope all warred dramatically on her features and in her eyes. Audrey was reminded of silent movies but this was a picture she wished she had never seen. Parents weren’t supposed to entertain such raw and powerful emotions anymore; they should have settled more comfortably into life and achieved the wisdom necessary to deal with the their children’s tumultuous feelings and actions.
Eternal Blood - Books 1-3 Wolf Shield, Sword of the Blood, Vampire Bride Page 11