Mark’s eye grew wide when he heard this from her. Sweet Venus, she is saying she believes Sebastian killed the women and not Lucius, he immediately thought. Before he could ask, Jaime put a finger to his lips to forestall anything from him.
“Now is not the time for that discussion,” she stated. “Guilty or innocent, Sebastian was very close with my husband. Signing off on that death sentence in his official capacity, as the government’s leader was the hardest thing he had to do. No let me correct that,” she continued saying. “It was the hardest thing he ever did in his life. The fact you insisted on prosecuting the case yourself and were aggressively seeking that sentence meant he could not turn to his closest friend for advice or comfort about what he was going through.”
“Jaime,” Mark interjected with a husky voice. “I had no choice. Sebastian admitted to us that he murdered my friend. I had to prosecute and ask for that sentence.”
Jaime slightly smiled and reached out to touch Mark’s hand. “I know and on some level my husband knew this too. But for weeks afterwards Jean-Claude was emotionally dead. He went into dark places in his mind. I couldn’t help him,” she replied as her green eyes began to tear up. “I was losing him Mark. I was terrified he’d go so deep into a depression he would never come back to either Andre or myself. I am ashamed to admit a part of me blamed you for causing this agony for us. For a while I couldn’t stand the thought of seeing you. I do not feel that way anymore.”
Mark reached out and squeezed her hand. He could see the pain this recollection still gave her being reflected in her eyes. More importantly, he silently cursed himself for not trying to do something sooner to end this estrangement. He glanced away to let her compose herself.
Jaime slowly continued. “Then, out of nowhere, Tortego stepped in to offer assistance and … well my Jean-Claude came back to life. He is happy again when he us with us. Do I worry about their new relationship? Well it is Tortego we are talking about so, of course I am concerned. But right now all I possess are my vague suspicions that things might not be quite right. I will admit I have not pressed the issue. I was terrified too. I am still terrified of thrusting Jean-Claude back into that black hell he was inhabiting,” she told Mark as a look of pain again flickered across her features. “Without concrete evidence I will not cut off their relationship and risk losing my husband again to that darkness that had closed around him.” She focused her eyes on Mark’s. “I won’t do that unless you step in to fill Tortego’s role.”
“But will Jean-Claude let me reconcile with him?” Mark asked.
“You two have been together in some pretty tough times. You’ve risked your lives watching each other’s backs in quite a few situations,” she tenderly said. “You are like brothers to each other. I know my husband. He wants to end this estrangement with you. Right now he just cannot decide how to do it. If you take the first step he will react positively to it.” She quickly rose from her chair. “I’ve got to go but Jean-Claude will be home in an hour to have lunch. I will not be there so maybe you might arrive there instead.” She glanced at Brian and Nancy. They immediately walked over towards them. “Mark help me and help him. I’m not stupid or unaware of what happens at those council sessions. I agree with you about Tortego,” she grimly added. “Something evil is happening. For the last few nights Jean-Claude had those Strega nightmares again. I also sense evil, a pure polluted foulness inside that aide Tortego has in his employ.”
Mark closed his eyes. He knew only too well what that Strega reference meant. Years ago the werewolf had been kidnapped by Neo-Nazi vampires who wanted to resurrect the Nazi’s regime’s dead leaders. Their organizer had planned on using a Strega, or Italian witch, to accomplish that goal. Jean-Claude was to be used as some sort of sacrificial present to the dark gods in exchange for the reanimation of those dead Nazis. His friend had been held for weeks bound, caged and, left naked in an icy damp stone cellar. He had nearly died from the cold and from his refusal to eat their drugged food. Mark, Vinnie and Jaime had ultimately rescued him. Later they learned that the ancient witch had taken advantage of Jean-Claude’s helpless state to repeatedly sexually molest him. The werewolf’s recovery was a long and difficult process. For months Jean-Claude lay sick in bed with recurrent nightmares of that sexual abuse. During the entire time of his convalescence, Jaime never left his side. Soon, they had both fallen in love with each other and the nightmares faded away for Jean-Claude. The fact she was telling him that those nightmares had returned was troubling. He glanced at Jaime.
“Yes I know what you are thinking. I agree. Something triggered them in him. I’m sure the answer will involve Tortego. Mark you are the best private eye in the city. Do your job. Uncover what is happening between my husband and Tortego,” she finally stated as her bodyguards came up alongside her. The two security personnel greeted Mark while keeping an eye out on the crowds. Jaime smiled at Mark then she spoke with a steely tone in her voice that belied her smiling visage. “Now go out and fix things! I need to do some reading. But first I’m off to have lunch with my husband's father. Now that you and my husband are going to be settled, it is long past the time to fix that other matter too," Jaime stated.
"Good luck on that one. The old man loves his boy but he won't make the first move. He is proud you know," Mark informed her.
"He might act first if he thinks I'm pregnant again," she laughed.
"Are you?” A shocked Mark said. Brian and Nancy also broke off their visual surveillance of the surrounding area to gaze at her
"The operative words in that sentence are, 'if he thinks' my darling Mark," Jaime slyly replied. “Who knows what he might come to believe it if I make comment of how I must not drink any wine for the next few months.
“What if he directly asks you?” Mark quizzed.
“I simply demurely smile, say ‘oh dad’ then kiss him,” Jaime grinned. She adjusted Andre in his carrying straps and quietly began walking off with Brian and Nancy. She had only taken a few steps when she turned towards Mark. “Oh, while you are at it you might do what Julio asked and find that security leak,” she added as calmly as if she was simply asking him to run a small errand. Jaime gazed at the stunned faces of her escorts as well as Mark. “Please. Did you three think I couldn’t figure out Julio would call on my old boss for help in that matter?” She laughed at both Mark and her flabbergasted escorts then continued walking. When she was sure no one was noticing she let her facial features take on a grimmer tone.
She now knew her fears about her husband’s welfare had some basis in reality. Reluctantly she told herself she had to let Mark take the lead on this matter. For now, for the sake of her husband’s position, she must put on a smile and firmly stand beside him. The war was making everyone uneasy. She knew that Jean-Claude’s spouse must keep to her role of absolute support and give no one any cause to think their leader was in some distress. Any other reaction or action by her would play into his enemies’ hands. She fixed her resolve and strolled away as if she had not a care in the world.
Mark watched her go towards the city’s main library that bordered the park. He noticed how every man, and a few women too, couldn’t take their eyes off of her. The vampire knew Jaime was using her sex demon ‘alluring’ ability to heighten their interest in her so she could harmlessly grab a quick bit of necessary emotional nourishment from them. She would often tell Mark that this was her version of cup of espresso. “That girl is a pistol,” he chuckled. “Brian and Nancy must have their work cut out for them.” He finished his cup of espresso and hailed a cab to take him uptown to Jaime and Jean-Claude’s condo.
****
Jean-Claude had spent that morning in his office troubled by the intense Strega nightmares he had experienced during the last few days. “I haven’t been having those dreams for years. So why now?” he said aloud. At first he thought it might be due to the stress of recent events. He quickly discounted this fact. The war had been going on for weeks. Besides, he thought, there had been a lul
l in attacks as the supernatural Parisian forces tried to figure out how to break the shield over New York City. While Jean-Claude could not be positive he instinctively felt that the war was not the trigger for the nightmares. Something new in his life had brought about their sudden recurrence. Whatever the cause, the dreams had become more unsettling than they had ever been before in his past. The entire experience had left him uneasy.
As he rode in his limousine on the way to his office he contemplated that having a later meeting with Tortego might ease his discomfort. Their sessions always left him feeling peaceful. An image of the Spaniard came into his mind. Unexpectedly the face of Tortego’s ever-present aide also loomed up in the werewolf’s imagination. Jean-Claude found he was sick to his stomach at the thought of being around the cringing older man. The mental image of that aide hovering around him or touching his arm caused Jean-Claude to consider to putting off meeting with Tortego. Suddenly he felt an unconscious need to see the vampire. The sensation unsettled him. “Putting off a meeting over some dislike of his aide is stupid,” he decided. Without realizing it, he immediately felt better.
As he sat as his desk he decided to simply allow more memories his encounter with the Strega to come into his mind. Perhaps, he thought, reliving it will show me the answer over why these nightmares have reappeared? Though he still had difficulty recalling every moment of his time as a prisoner he did remember the terror and the anger he had experienced. He sat back in his chair and stared at one of the office walls. He usually blocked out thinking about the event, preferring to just get on with his life. Today would be different. He was never one to turn from trouble or give in to his fears. Jean-Claude closed his eyes and summoned up those mental pictures. As those traumatic memories flowed into his consciousness a chilly sensation of horror accompanied them. “I’m having these dreams for a reason,” he muttered as he damped down an urge to cut off those old painful images. “I have to find out why my nightmares are back.” The aide’s face exploded inside the werewolf’s brain. A wave of nausea flooded over him. The werewolf assumed that this was due to his intense dislike of the man. “No, I’ve got to concentrate,” Jean-Claude thought. “I have to focus on the past not the present,” he firmly told himself still unaware of the linkage.
As those prior events flashed inside his brain he suddenly remembered the role Mark Julian and Vinnie had played in his rescue. The werewolf took a deep breath. He surprisingly found he was now focusing on Mark’s role in that situation. Unexpectedly other memories of other cases he had worked on with Mark sprang into his mind. He recalled how they had fought side by side against dark angels. How close they had been and the confidences they had shared. Thoughts of the Strega faded as more powerful memories took their place in his brain.
The werewolf contemplated how estranged he had become from his friend. Mark was more of a brother to him than his cousin, Sebastian, had ever been. It was at that moment that Jean-Claude found a final mental clarity about Sebastian. He began to truly acknowledge what type of person his cousin was and mentally reject the false idealized version of him he had created. Sebastian had been a killer who never showed any remorse for his murder of another person. Jean-Claude knew he would always love his cousin but Sebastian had become a murderous butcher. For the first time Jean-Claude no longer felt any lingering guilt over his role in approving his cousin’s death sentence. More importantly, he realized Mark had done just what should have been done in seeking Sebastian’s execution. “I was wrong to blame Mark for doing the right thing,” he said with a tone of self-reproach in his voice. “I’ve got to make this right,” he told himself.
By now the nightmares and finding their cause had taken a backseat in his mind. “I’ll talk with Jaime over lunch today about the best way to do fix thing with Mark,” he decided as he drank the morning cup of coffee his secretary left on his desk. Suddenly feeling better about things, Jean-Claude finished his beverage and left his office early in order to go home. As he rode in the council’s limousine to his Upper East Side condo, he thought again about what could be the reasons for the return of his nightmares. One thing at a time Jean-Claude, he happily mused as he pushed the matter back into the recesses of his mind. He recalled how his mother used to tell him that sometimes, “when you don’t think about it” the answers to problems just come to you. Maybe it would occur just like that! Talk to Jaime today about Mark. Time enough to try and solve that other problem later, he told himself as his body experienced the exhilarating effects of the drugs in his coffee.
****
All during the cab ride to the couple’s new Upper East Side condo Mark pondered what he would say to Jean-Claude. “I have to be sure I’m going to say just the right thing,” Mark muttered as different expressions were composed and discarded in quick succession. He was still at that task when he arrived at Jaime and Jean-Claude’s home in a luxury high rise. Mark entered the glass-lined lobby and walked to the right side where the building had situated its front desk. “I’m Mr. Julian,” he told the young uniformed Latino who manned the desk. “I am here to see Mr. Roué. If you could announce me.” As he finished speaking he wondered if Jean-Claude would even give permission for him to go up.
“Mrs. Roué called a while ago sir,” the young man stated. “I was told not to announce you and to simply send you right up.” He smiled. “If you can sign in our visitor’s log first sir. The penthouse elevator is down the hallway to your left.”
Mark had still not thought of what to say as he swiftly rode the elevator up forty stories to arrive at their penthouses’ front door. He was still trying to think of how to begin his conversation as he rang the doorbell of the condo’s large double wooden doors. He gritted his teeth as the door opened. “Now or never,” he told himself as suddenly Jean-Claude faced him. “I miss my best friend,” Mark simply said to his surprised friend. “I miss him pretty badly. Have I lost him?”
A stunned look crossed the werewolf’s features. For Mark the quiet of the next few seconds seemed like an eternity. Then Jean-Claude broke the silence. “No. You did not lose him. Your friend was an idiot but he never stopped being your best friend,” Jean-Claude replied as a slight smile came to his face. “Goddess I missed you too,” he finished saying as he went up and hugged Mark.
Mark returned the embrace with equal affection. The knot that has been in his stomach since he arrived at the condo relaxed. “So,” he said in a hoarse voice as they let go of each other, “you going to invite me in for a drink. I’m famished.”
Jean-Claude laughed just a touch too loudly. “Yeah I think I’ve a bottle of blood hanging around somewhere for you.”
The Roué’s condo reflected both their good taste and financial wealth. As one of New York City’s most prominent families Jean-Claude and Jaime were expected to do lot of entertaining for the human part of the city. As the crown prince of the Roué werewolf clan they were also required by the clan members to maintain a lifestyle fitting Jean-Claude’s rank. The front rooms were lightly furnished with a pleasing mixture of furniture that was modern but shaded in warm earth tones. Jean-Claude loved modern art and the walls had many paintings that were acquired during his life in the city. Many works were by artists who later became famous. The two walked toward the private family section of the condo that Jean-Claude and Jaime used when not required to, as Jaime once said, “put on a show.” Those rooms consisted of comfortable furniture and had Andre’s collection of toys scattered about it. It had a warmth and homey quality that instantly felt welcoming.
Jean-Claude went to a small room and came back with a bottle that had a reddish liquid in it. Mark recognized the familiar Bartels & Bones LTD label on the bottle. The world’s vampire community exclusively used the firm for their eating needs. In fact the company prided itself as the sole purveyors of fine bloods for discerning vampires. Jean-Claude opened the bottle and poured its contents into a large brandy snifter. Mark took it and immediately sensed the familiar scent of a quality AB negative. When he ta
sted it his eyes grew wide. “Sweet Juno this is pre-Industrial Revolution blood.”
Jean-Claude smiled. “When the New York City branch of the firm was restocking a few weeks ago they found a case of this hidden in a back area. I bought it at once. I’m told it’s rather unique because the donor’s blood has none of the traces in it that Industrial pollution now gives to our blood.” He paused then put his hand on Mark’s shoulder. “I think I unconsciously stored it to one day give to you as a peace offering for my behavior. You were totally in the right.”
“Being in the right doesn’t always make a person right in how they do something. It is all in the past now anyway,” Mark responded. He was touched by Jean-Claude’s gesture regarding the blood. He did not to even want to contemplate how expensive acquiring such a rare vintage must have been for his friend. After some initial awkwardness between them they soon relaxed.
“Jaime set this up huh,” Jean-Claude asked as he poured himself a brandy.
Mark grinned and nodded. “I saw her and Andre at Bryant Park. By the way my godchild is really growing,” Mark said. His senses detected that his friend seemed more exuberant than usual. He instantly attributed it to Jean-Claude’s happiness at seeing him.
“Yeah,” Jean-Claude proudly said. “You should see what mischief he can do even at that age.” The two men ate their respective meals laughing as the werewolf excitedly related the antics of Mark’s godchild. Later, after they had finished eating, Mark decided to broach the subject he most wanted to discuss with his friend in a roundabout manner. “I see you and Tortego have gotten pretty close.”
Jean-Claude’s face grew somber. “I know what you must be thinking but honestly he has changed.”
“Sorry I cannot believe that leopard has changed his spots,” Mark doubtfully replied.
“No he really has been helpful,” Jean-Claude insisted before adding. “ I always feel better after receiving communion from him.”
The Case of the Parisian Vendetta: A Mark Julian Vampire PI Mystery #10 (Mark Julian Vampire PI Mysteries) Page 6