“I know who to ask. Vivienne, I think I need to go home now.” She turned to Martine and hugged her warmly. “Thank you so much, Martine. I hope to someday be able to really express how much this meant to me.”
As Vivienne drove her home, Liz kept trying to wrap her brain around what happened. There’s no way that Martine could know what Alex sounded like or know that she sometimes called her Lizzie. The mention of Olivia Holmwood was also something that couldn’t have just come out of the blue. She had no choice but to believe it was truly Alex.
But that also meant that she had to face what it meant that she was turned and that she was truly Daniela. She felt an anger building in her over the idea that someone could manipulate her so much and she not even know about it. She knew, though, that she needed time to process things, and that she had to talk to Ai.
Chapter Forty
Vivienne insisted on staying with Liz after the reading. “We’ve got to figure this out, and I’m not leaving you on your own.” Liz refused, telling Vivienne that she needed some time to sort things out. “I appreciate it, but I feel like I’ve already pulled you into my mess too much. I really just want to take a bath and go to bed.”
Once inside the house, Liz got a bottle of wine and poured a glass. Then she got out her laptop and searched for Ais tour information. She soon found a Facebook profile for the tours, and called the number, hoping it would be Ais cell phone. No such luck; she got an outgoing voicemail message that reminded her of tour dates and meet up points, as well as the price per ticket. She decided to leave a message, in hopes that Ai would check it soon. Other than waiting to catch her outside of the house during a tour, or confront her at the bar in front of clients, she didn’t know what else to do.
“Hello. This is Elizabeth Camp. I need to talk to Ai; this is kind of urgent. Please call me back either at home or the bar. I really need to talk to you.” She left both numbers on the recording, and then she poured a glass of wine and lay down on the couch.
Within a few minutes, her phone rang. She looked at the number and answered. “Hi, Liz? It’s Ai. I got a rollover message on my cell from my work number. Is everything ok? You sound really upset?”
Liz took a big swallow of wine. “Are you busy right now? Can you come over?”
Ai hesitated a bit, then said, “Sure. Give me about half an hour, and I’ll be right there.”
As she waited, Liz tried to make sense of the reading. What was it Alex thought she could have and should have protected her from? She distracted herself by putting together a plate of cheese and crackers. It seemed silly given what she was hoping to learn from Ai that she would fuss with such normal things, but the normal actions grounded her.
When Ai arrived Liz led her through the shotgun apartment to the kitchen table. She wasn’t sure how to start the conversation, so she just jumped right in with, “What can you tell me about Olivia Holmwood?”
Ai blushed a little and seemed a bit guarded. “Well, she’s incredibly smart and talented. She’s a great lecturer. Surely you didn’t just call me over here to talk about Dr. Holmwood.”
Liz tried again. “It’s just that I recently got some information that Dr. Holmwood might have been seen here the night of Alex’s murder and that she and Wren Anderson had some sort of words that night.”
Ais only reaction was to nod thoughtfully. “I wasn’t here, so I can’t really confirm or deny any of that information.”
“Did you know Wren Anderson?”
“I didn’t know her, but I did know who she is. Anyone who’d been to The Ruby knew who she was, I suspect. I never saw her and Dr. Holmwood together, though.”
“What does it mean to say that someone has been turned?” Liz decided to go for it. Her question paid off.
“Well, in terms of vampirism it simply refers to the ‘turning’ of someone who is not a vampire into one. There are some people who think that’s what Wren was trying to do to Alex.”
Liz took a few sips of wine, trying to figure out what to ask next. “So, how does that work?”
“It varies, but in most cultural accounts, even Stoker’s, the vampire feeds on their victim to a point short of death and then invites the victim to drink from them. It’s the exchange that seals the deal, apparently. Not all people bitten repeatedly turn into vampires, though. If they did, the place would be lousy with the undead.”
“You make it sound as if you believe in vampires.”
Ai smiled. “Of course I do; the evidence of their existence in so many cultures is so pervasive that I believe they exist. Don’t you believe they exist?”
Liz shrugged. “I think that there are some people who do drain other people from their energy and who feed on other people. I’m not sure I believe the whole sensationalism around blood drinking and immortality. After all, I believe in Voodoo, but I also know that it isn’t like the popularized version that is sold out of shops on Bourbon Street.” She paused and then asked, “Can someone be a vampire and not know it?”
Ai nodded again. “Yes; if you read Dracula you find that Lucy is turned and doesn’t ever realize it. She has no memory of the Count feeding on her, nor does she have any memory of her feeding on small children as the ‘Bloofer Lady.’ Lucy dies, well, she’s killed by Van Helsing, never realizing that she is a vampire. She feeds in a trancelike state.”
“Like she’s sleepwalking?” Liz asked.
“That seems like a fair description. Of course, that was a fictional account, but then how do we distinguish fiction from non-fiction?” Ai finished her wine and Liz poured more wine into both glasses. “And, just as there are vampires, there are those who are donors.”
This got Liz’s attention. “Donors? Like willing victims?”
Ai shook her head. “Not victims at all. Donors are most often very willing participants.” She seemed to blush as she said it, and she tried to turn the conversation back to the novel as an example. “Renfield was most likely a donor to Dracula; he obviously didn’t have the power to escape from the asylum. Of course, it’s up in the air whether he was a mere donor or if he had been turned but was being kept there by Dracula himself. As the master, he could still control those who are his subordinates, especially if they had no knowledge of how to break free of his control.”
“You seem very interested in the donor idea and blushed a little talking about it. You’ve not been a donor have you?”
Ais eyes flashed, and she couldn’t help but smile. “I wish. I’ve had plenty of dreams where I’m a donor, and I would happily offer myself up.” Her body warmed to the thought of her dreams where Olivia fed from her. Suddenly, she had an irresistible urge and pull toward Liz. Her eyes fell on the small paring knife on the table that Liz had set out with the cheese. Neither of them had touched the food. Without a word, Ai took the knife and pressed the razor sharp blade to her wrist, not gashing it, but breaking the flesh enough that a thin line of red welled up.
Liz watched with disbelief as Ai picked up the knife, and now she couldn’t look away from the first glint of ruby from her arm. Her vision narrowed so that all she could see was the cut, and it was as if she could hear the beating of Ais heart and nothing else. She knelt on the kitchen floor in front of Ai and pressed her mouth to the cut, drawing from it in time with the beat in her head. Soon, the heartbeat was replaced by the sounds of her own sobbing, as she realized what she truly was.
Chapter Forty-One
Olivia left Christophe spent and sleeping to see Wren. She’d been absent long enough that Wren showed some of her old desperation as Olivia materialized, but she did manage to stay composed for the most part. Olivia could see that she had grown stronger both physically and mentally since she’d started feeding properly. As Olivia stroked her, kissing her on the mouth first, then on the neck and shoulders, she whispered to her, “Soon, you will be free.”
Wren wasn’t sure she’d heard her correctly. She cupped Olivia’s chin in her hand, bringing her gaze up to her own. “Free?”
“Yes, my darling. We’ve discovered how to free you. No one will be the wiser. It will probably be for the best, though, if you start feigning madness again as we prepare. You will be trading places with sweet little Tiffany; if you are seen as having become mad again there will be no cause for suspicion once she is here and starts talking about how she’s not Wren Anderson.”
Wren succumbed to Olivia’s caresses, reveling in the pleasure not only of what was being done to her, but also in knowing that she would soon be out of her cell and able to live again. After, as they lay together in the dark, Wren asked her how she would accomplish the feat. Olivia merely told her not to worry and that she need do nothing but play her part over the next three days. “Three nights from tonight, I want you to lie down and try to sleep. It will probably work best if you are thinking of being free and of your normal life before you were arrested. The work will be done at three in the morning, the Devil’s Hour. So, if you are not asleep then, try your best to lie still and be receptive. Also, it is best if you weaken yourself; abstain from feeding after tonight. I promise it will be worth it once you arrive on the other side.”
Wren didn’t give a second thought to Tiffany or what she might want; she could only think of her freedom and being able to serve Olivia again. She played her part well over the next three days, sliding a little further into her fake madness each day. The hunger from refusing to feed from her donor helped, as she grew paler and more gaunt from lack of feeding. By the arrival of the third night, she was close to believing she truly was going mad and sleep was a relief to her. She shed her clothes and lay down on her bunk at midnight. After looking around her small cell once more, she closed her eyes.
Chapter Forty-Two
When Liz began to cry, Ai had knelt on the floor with her, taking her in her arms and holding her as she wept. She’d kissed the tears from her cheeks and eventually calmed her enough to get her up off the floor and into her bedroom. She tucked Liz into bed, first helping her get undressed and into pajamas. She sat on the side of her bed, holding her hand as she cried herself to sleep. When she was quiet, Ai went back to the kitchen and cleaned up, putting the food away and corking what was left of the bottle of wine. She slipped out before Kirby came home for the night.
Liz dreamt of rubies and the taste of iron at first, and then she dreamt of Olivia.
She was sitting next to Olivia, and she could feel the heat coming off of her as the other girl read. Olivia looked up from the book, a smile on her lips and her eyes so clear blue. “Please promise me you’ll never leave me, Daniela.” She grabbed Daniela’s hands in her own, bringing them to her face, and pressing her lips to the open palm of first one hand and then the other. Daniela was transfixed, mesmerized.
Olivia moved from her hands to her mouth, barely brushing her lips against Daniela’s, then pressing harder, her tongue darting between open lips. Daniela’s head spun, her ears filled with the sound of her own heartbeat and the whirring of blood. Olivia’s mouth was on her neck, her shoulder, and she felt her hands moving to unfasten the back of her gown. She responded helping Olivia first to remove her gown and then helping Olivia to remove her own. They lay down, side by side, facing each other. Soon Olivia was over her, Daniela on her back. She arched against Olivia, and she could feel herself falling, as if in a dream, but never hitting bottom.
She felt a sharp pain on her inner thigh and as Olivia raised up, she could see a smear of blood on her mouth as she smiled and rose to kiss her on the lips, the blood coppery tasting as Olivia slid fingers inside her. “Say it, Daniela, say you’ll never leave me.” Daniela was too enthralled to respond, and Olivia took her hand away, resting it on her hip. She repeated it; “Say you’ll never leave me.”
“I’ll never leave you.”
Olivia took the small pendant she wore around her neck and cut her fore arm, offering it to Daniela. “Swear a blood oath to me. Drink and become my blood sister.” She pressed her arm to Daniela’s mouth. The taste of Olivia’s blood was unlike anything she’d ever tasted before. Olivia tasted of violets and port, of perfume and age. Once it crossed her lips, Daniela felt as if she could drink forever.
As Olivia took away her arm and kissed her, Daniela wept. She wasn’t sure why, but she felt a deep sadness, as if someone had just died. From the interior of the castle, she could hear a deep rumbling cry of NO, followed by a fluttering noise that turned to the sound of feet running and the sound of hands pounding on the door. Over the other noises, she heard Olivia laughing.
Chapter Forty-Three
Olivia took the three days she’d given Wren to prepare herself. She confided in Christophe what the ritual entailed and asked that he help her procure the proper supplies. Many of the items she needed were readily available from Rosalie’s altar, and because Rosalie had been the target of the ritual before her death, Olivia thought it fitting and amusing that she take those items from there. She felt confident that the candles and other altar offerings would work well as they had been blessed and prepared by the rightful heir to Marie Laveau’s power.
On the night of the ritual, she and Christophe arrived at the Casbah early in the evening with plenty of cash in hand. They watched as Tiffany made the rounds, bought her drinks throughout the night, and made her promise that they would be the last private dance of the night. No one was surprised when she slipped out with them at 2 am as the club was winding down and only regulars and those too drunk to function were left.
She was still in her dance clothes as they walked down the sidewalk, Christophe on one side of her and Olivia on the other. They moved quietly toward the cottage on St. Ann Street.
As they entered, Tiffany marveled at the transformation of the space. At first, she thought that Tony must have planned a romantic greeting for her after work, but then she noticed that the candles were not just ordinary candles. Instead, they were posted at four corners, each corner holding a different color representing each of the four elements. In the center of the living room was a drawing in cornmeal, the Vévé of Papa Legba, the intermediary between the human world and the world of the Loa. Tony stood inside the circle. He said nothing and seemed unaware of her as she stepped toward him to kiss him.
Christophe moved from behind her, picking up a drum and handing it to Tony, who sat on the floor and embraced it. Christophe sat next to him and without a word began to beat a syncopated rhythm. Tony joined in, still not saying a word. As the drumming continued, she saw Olivia moving counter-clockwise on the outside of the circle, lighting candles as she chanted in a language Tiffany didn’t understand. The room was thick with incense that stung her nose, and she noticed that the circle was made up of tens of black candles. The rhythm of the drumming grew more frenzied as Olivia got closer to finishing the circle.
Tiffany was unable to move, and the sound of the chanting was deafening and seemed to be of multiple voices. She felt her feet slip from under her and as she hit the floor, she woke as if from a dream to find herself naked and in a jail cell.
Wren became aware of drumming and then as she opened her eyes, it stopped. Her eyes adjusted to the light of the candles around her, and she heard Olivia laugh. “Welcome back. Now to complete the ritual.” She handed Wren Rosalie’s ceremonial dagger. Christophe removed the drum from Tony’s grasp. Tony was glassy-eyed and did not seem to see Wren, as she stood in front of him. She kissed him and then moved to stand behind him. She pulled his head back, his eyes staring up at her. She slipped the knife quickly and fell to her knees, covering the pulsing wound with her mouth and feeding deeply. Olivia and Christophe joined her, each cutting a wrist and feeding as Tony’s heart first slowed, then stopped altogether.
Chapter Forty-Four
Liz stayed at home for three days after Ais visit, telling Kirby she’d come down with something and needed to rest. She’d spent most of that time in a twilight state between waking and dreaming. It was as if everything she’d blocked out of her consciousness rose to the surface at once in fragments. She’d been able to
piece some of it together, and in her work to get it all down, she’d filled a sketchbook with sketches of Olivia and of the life she realized must have been hers as Daniela.
The dream of her turning had only been the beginning. Following it were dreams of the Count railing against his daughter with a rage that was unlike anything that she’d ever seen. When he burst into the room, it was utter madness. Olivia was still laughing and he slapped her with such force that it seemed to Daniela that her head should have come off, but she kept laughing. Daniela had run from the house then, vowing to not return.
Apart from Olivia, she grew ill and weak. Her father had spoken with the Count who counseled him that the two girls should be separated. He warned that Olivia, having had no influence of a mother, had grown unnaturally attached to Daniela and that he feared she would be ruined as a result. Daniela’s mother, in desperation, called upon her sister to send Daniela’s cousin Sasha for a visit.
She’d been happy at first to find that Sasha did revive Daniela. Soon the girls were together all the time, and Daniela ventured from her room, the bloom of health in her cheeks again.
All was well until Daniela’s father found her feeding from Sasha, his daughter’s mouth smeared with blood as Sasha simultaneously drank from a cut in Daniela’s wrist. He’d thrown them out, dropping them on the Count’s doorstep.
A portion of the castle was theirs, the three odd sisters, and Daniela had asked Olivia that first night as the three of them curled around each other, “What have you done to me?”
“Oh, Daniela, I love you. You swore you’d never leave me, and now we can be together forever. I have given you a great gift.”
Brigitte's Cross (The Olivia Chronicles) Page 21