Our flight is a long one. In a sense, it’s a lucky thing that I’ve been through so much, because despite my nervousness about my possible fate, I’m still recovering from my ordeal in the tanks and I’m too weary to freak out much. It’s only been one or two days since my rescue, and I’ve probably done more walking than I should have, though the plane flight is making up for that. And after a few glasses of champagne, I quickly fall asleep.
And I dream.
Of course, they aren’t nice ones.
I’m back in the desert, after our battle. And Adam and Marion are chasing down their last kills, looking for just the right plump and juicy soldier for us to feast on. And I can’t wait. The taste of the blood is so delicious, so completely satisfying that, at times, I can’t think of anything else. And I’m tempted to gnaw on a limb from the battlefield, only that isn’t their way. They alway feast on the best and the finest, and it’s only the most precious of lives that deserve to sustain them.
And I see them again, the Elders, walking across the desert floor. I see Roland rushing to meet them.
When he greets them, I hear the elder vampire’s words. Only this time, they echo in my mind, just as Roland said their private message did for him.
“You will lead us into …”
And the second I hear him, I wake with a start. And I look around the plane, remembering where I am. I’m not so confused as I usually am when returning from a past life dream, but something still bothers me. It’s as if the elder vampire’s words changed somehow. He’s added something, two simple syllables … “into.” But I’m not sure what it means.
“You will lead us into …”
I will lead them into something, but what? A battle? Glory? None of it makes any sense.
I’m drowsy, but food quickly rouses me from my slumber. And the first class stewardesses bring us lovely treats. We get an appetizer tray with hummus and pita bread, a selection of various cheeses. And later, I’m given a choice of meals, and pick the Thai one, which has spicy noodles and broccoli beef. Luckily, the cuisine doesn’t seem to upset my stomach.
Roland chooses a steak meal, and only nibbles on it, because it’s really just to give the delicious chunk of meat to me. But I see him staring at the pretty blonde who serves us with a kind of hunger in his eyes, though it isn’t lust.
“Are you sure you’re all right?”
“I’ll be fine. I can control my hunger, especially when I know refreshment will be waiting for me when we land. 14 hours is nothing in the span of my lifetime. Entire human lives pass by in the blink of an eye.”
And I look at him, my second vampire lover … Roland, my protector. He’s so big and good-looking, and so much has passed between us, in our own way. And now I have the chance to talk to him, to ask all the questions that have been rattling around in my mind. What I suppose I wonder now, more than ever, is how much he loved them, my past selves. I wonder if we had more time together, would he have loved Saga and Caroline forever, or were they just new baubles to collect? Was I just a piece in his sacred duty?
And if I had survived in either of those lifetimes, would I have stayed with him, or gone to Adam?
It’s wrong, but I ask him the same thing Caroline did, in my past life.
“Tell me something. Did you miss me, when I was gone?”
I’m not sure why I say it. It’s unkind to taunt Roland on the level of his affection, especially when I’ve been with Adam so recently. But he doesn’t seem to mind, and the lines at the edge of his mouth turn upward, into something that is the tiniest of smiles.
“You have a light about you, Meridian. And when it was gone, both times, it left a hole in my heart far greater than you can imagine,” he says. “I was enraged by your death. I was furious with Marion, for being so foolish as to have allowed herself to be attacked. And, of course, with Adam, for what he did. It was torture that we had so little time together, and that you were taken away from me. And now, I hate myself most of all, that it was I who played with your life this time. That I put you in a position where you felt the need to expose yourself to Marion. I should never have done that, Meridian. I should have approached you more carefully.”
“It’s not your fault, Roland. I don’t blame you. And you’ve saved me from the fate I brought upon myself. You’re my protector, remember?”
And I get him to smile.
“But tell me something. If you didn’t have this fate, this assignment from the Elders, would you still feel the same way about me?”
“I felt that way about Saga from the moment I met her, before the Elders even whispered her name. And Caroline, before I knew who she really was. I feel so strongly about you that I will even protect you from this fate you hate so much, if that is your choice.”
We’re so close, even in the first class recliner chairs. And now it really does start to happen. Roland leans closer, and I want to kiss his lips, to feel what it’s like to stare into those mesmerizing blue eyes with love, once again. But remembering what that feels like from the past is almost torture, because things have changed. Adam is out there, somewhere, and it just isn’t the same.
Our lips are about to come together, but I have to stop him.
“Don’t, Roland.”
“Just one kiss?” he says.
“There’s just too much else going on. I can’t have this in the mix, too.”
“I understand,” he says. “But, just remember, vampires are very good at waiting.”
He pulls away with a smile, and it’s a knowing one, as if he’s convinced I won’t be able to resist.
Luckily, I have the ability to constantly fall asleep, and I quickly pass out again, and have more strange dreams. But I don’t have nightmares about scary vampires this time.
When I drift off, I’m transported away to a place that seems like Mount Olympus. There’s a statuesque woman standing there, with deep auburn curls that run down her back, which is covered by a floor length burgundy dress. And despite her dark hair and garb, she has a kind of luminosity about her.
She’s standing in a place that’s all white, a huge, circular room, with a large doorway behind her that’s framed by two white columns. It leads out to a terrace that overlooks a city that’s like nothing I’ve ever seen before. It’s a mixture of lush green trees that are seamlessly integrated with sparkling buildings, ones that are far more pristine than the structures of any metropolis that’s ever existed. And there’s something that looks like a birdbath next to the woman. But instinctively, I know it’s something else; a scrying pool.
An older man wearing white robes rushes into the room behind her.
“What news do you bring of the realms?” she says.
“It is not of the realms. It is your daughter,” he says fearfully. “She is incarnating.”
“What? That’s impossible! You must stop her!”
“It’s too late. She’s already made it to the portals.”
And her face is awash with disappointment and pain.
“She could be lost to us forever,” the woman proclaims with great seriousness. And within my dream state, I can sense her agony, in a way that makes me feel horrible guilt.
The scene shifts to another place in this strange world and I see someone who’s me, only she’s not. She’s a girl with long brown hair, who wears a white dress that looks like it came from a fairy’s wardrobe. She actually looks a bit like Caroline. And the girl runs along in fear, as though someone might stop her at any moment. She heads down a long hallway that leads into a room filled with seven or eight glowing discs of light, portals that glow in slightly different shades. Without hesitation, she leaps for a white one, directly in front of her, without looking back.
And the second she touches the light, I wake once again.
It’s later, and the little lamps in the cabin have been dimmed, so the passengers can sleep. Even Roland closes his eyes, and I’m not sure if he’s unconscious or just meditating, lost in the mental worlds that he navigates.
I almost forget that I just had another dream, it all seems like gibberish. But when I think back on it, I wonder if it was also real. I wonder if it was the place in the clouds. Who was the woman who seemed to be it’s ruler? A mother? Was she my mother? Certainly not the one who brought me into this world. And I wonder if the girl who ran for the portals was me, or at least Caroline, before she came back to Earth this time. And I can still feel a hint of the desperation she felt, to return.
She wanted to see someone again, and I’m not sure if it was Adam or Roland.
We arrive late in Paris, and despite my curiosity about the city and my nervous state, I’m exhausted. It was a long flight, but luckily, we’ve brought the little satchels from the Range Rover onto the plane, minus the body armor. There are more clothes for me to change into, and before we land, I’m able to put on a fresh dress and undies in the bathroom. And when we finally get off, it feels so good to stretch my legs once more.
I think that we’ll call a taxi at the curb of the airport, but I’m surprised to find a limousine already waiting for us there.
“This is our ride,” Roland says, taking my hand and leading me toward it.
I raise an eyebrow to him, skeptically.
“Really?”
“I was able to reach my contact here, telepathically, to arrange our stay.”
The dashing driver holding the door for us winks at me, and I instantly know he’s another vampire.
Inside the vehicle there’s a mini-bar, and I’m surprised when Roland quickly moves toward it. But I soon realize that it isn’t red wine that he’s pouring, and I’m relieved that he’s finally found nourishment. As Roland takes a sip of the chilled, crimson fluid, a look of relief comes over his face.
“Ah, much better,” he says.
There’s alcohol for me, Dom Perignon, vodka and more, but the last thing I want is to drink, so I have a few sips of orange juice, instead.
As the limousine pulls away from the airport and glides off toward the City of Lights, I look around for some signs that I’m in Europe. It’s my first visit, at least in this lifetime, and I want to enjoy the experience in some small way, if it’s even possible. As of late, I’ve learned to grab what happiness I can.
The highways seem like highways, the streets seem like city streets. But soon, I see a sign written in French, which excites me, and I catch glimpses of little cafes and shops I would love to try. I only hope to find myself here under better circumstances some day, to have the chance to truly investigate them.
Soon, I get a dazzling glimpse of the Eiffel Tower lighting up the night sky. It reminds me of a scene from a romantic comedy, but unfortunately, my life is no Cameron Diaz movie. It’s become more of a horror film.
The limousine finally pulls onto a cobblestone street and we approach a luxurious hotel. It’s several stories high, and looks more like a palace Marie Antoinette might live in. There’s an awning over the entrance, which reads, “L’Etoile de Luxe” in curling letters. I’m not sure what it means, but it looks like everything I’ve dreamt a hotel in Paris could be.
The interior of the structure continues the palace motif. The lobby has high ceilings covered in a deep yellow or mustard paint, with ornate molding that runs at the edges of the top of the walls. There are puffy velvet sofas and antique glass cabinets that contain pieces of china and crystal, books that are probably first editions. There are huge urns that are almost as tall as I am, and flower arrangements with white roses rest on several of the tables.
Roland goes to the front desk. The service is excellent, and within minutes, we’re quickly led to our quarters.
The suite upstairs is as elegant as the rest of the hotel. It’s brighter than the lobby, with white walls and cream sofas. There’s an oil painting of Parisian courtesans hanging nearby, and it reminds me of the one in Marion’s private chamber. And I’m horrified for a moment, because one of the women in the picture looks exactly like her.
A gasp must escape from me without my realizing it, because Roland turns my way.
“Is that …?”
“It’s Marion’s favorite suite. She designed her private chambers after it. I should have asked them to find us another. I’d forgotten about the painting.”
“No … it’s okay. Maybe it’s a sign, of some sort. I’m just surprised she would allow her precious image to hang in a commoner’s hotel.”
“This isn’t a commoner’s hotel. It’s owned by the Paris vampires. The hotel is even known that way in some circles of the human world. People come here from all over to offer themselves. And trust me, Paris is the last place where you should try to become a vampire.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Because, it’s not like the world Marion and I have tried to build in the States, a more refined one. They live for torture and cruel games. God help some rich man they choose to have join them, because they’ll make him sign his fortune away, and force him to feed on his family when he makes the transition. Then he’ll spend an eternity scrubbing the floors, unless he or she finds a way to prove themselves. They are sadists, intent on creating creatures who are just as vicious as they are.”
“And this is where you’ve brought me?”
“The vampire world has it’s dark corners that need to be transformed,” he says. “But don’t worry, this place has it’s pleasant sides, too. Why don’t you freshen up, and I’ll have Room Service bring up some food?”
“That sounds like a good idea.”
Roland points me toward a room with beautiful double doors. They have big panes of glass built into them, with light curtains on the other sides, covering the view. I’m disappointed at first, because my small satchel has no more clothes to change into, but that feeling quickly subsides, as I realize that the room has been prepared just for me.
On the floor of my chamber there are boxes and boxes of shoes, all in the right size, and they’re hardly cheap brands. I see the names Manolo Blahnik and Prada, and even Betsey Johnson. I go to the closet, which is filled with dresses and pant suits, jeans and coats to wear them with. And the dresser drawers are brimming with underwear, bras, stockings and socks, everything I could need. And it’s amazing to me that they could have put all this together so fast.
I immediately go to the bathroom and take a quick bath, and even though there is a luscious selection of salts and concoctions to make bubbles, I don’t use any of it for fear that I’ll never want to leave.
As I’m wallowing in the water, I try to calm myself, to reach a place where I can see little bits of energy sparkling in the room. And my mind quickly drifts to Adam. I can’t take it anymore, and my curiosity and need to see him are too great. And it occurs to me that I can try to reach our cottage on the hill, that perhaps I can contact him in that way.
I hope that Roland won’t be able to detect what I’m doing with his highly developed mind, that I won’t anger him, but perhaps my own mental defenses will protect me.
I sit still in the water and clear my mind, but the second I try to find the tunnel of light, a darker energy grips my psyche, and I’m confronted with an image of the little gargoyle vampire, the Elder who whispered to Roland in the desert. And it’s terrifying, the way he invades my brain. I can see the gleaming baldness of his head and his little pointed ears, vividly.
And it’s not just my imagination. He seems to recognize my presence as well, and greets me with a smile that reveals sharp little fangs. The Elder whispers one word.
“Saga.”
It fills my mind so loudly it almost sounds like he’s in the room, and I gasp and leap out of the tub, looking around in a panic. I practically slip on the tiles of the bathroom, and start drying myself off for dinner.
I can hear Roland’s voice calling out to me with concern from somewhere inside the suite.
“Meridian, are you all right?”
I wrap a towel around myself, and run out a few steps, to the door. And I can just get a glimpse of the living room area, a
s one of the curtains covering the glass panes is slightly pushed aside. Roland stands on the other side, also with a towel wrapped around his waist, and it exposes his chest and chiseled abs, which make him look like a statue of a god that’s dripping wet.
“Oh, my,” I whisper to myself.
And he smiles.
“Meridian? Are you okay?”
“I’m fine, thanks. Be out in a minute.”
This place has everything. There is even a travel bag in the bathroom, with make-up. So I put on a little blush and some gloss on my lips, to make myself presentable for dinner.
I hear a soft knock at the front door, and the noise of Roland opening it, followed by the sounds of a cart rolling in. The delicious scent of roasted chicken reaches my nose, and I hurry to get dressed. I put on something a bit different from what I would normally wear, a black dress with skinny spaghetti straps over the shoulders, and slip on a pair of Manolo pumps, the kind I’ve always dreamt of having. And I go outside.
When I step into the suite, I see that Roland also wears black, a suit matched with a white shirt that’s unbuttoned a bit. And he almost looks better than he did in the towel.
He stares at me with a strange expression that concerns me for a moment, until I realize that he’s pleased with what he sees.
“Is it too much to hope that all this is for me?” he asks.
“Well, it’s all so fancy here. It just seemed appropriate somehow,” I say. “Plus, I didn’t want to let all those good clothes go to waste.”
“Well, why don’t we eat?”
I open the silver trays before me, and put some roasted chicken on my plate, along with potatoes and vegetables. It’s a simple meal, and I’m grateful. I haven’t eaten in so long, and I don’t need anything complicated. All I want to do is fill my stomach with a hearty meal.
Roland drinks more of the familiar red beverage that isn’t wine, and it’s strange to me, how I’ve grown so accustomed to seeing people drink blood.
The Meridian Gamble Page 48