Augusta Fern's Blog - Posts Tagged "conversation"
What a difference a night makes...
I released Babet’s hand and got to my feet anticipating Estella’s entry. I had successfully comforted Babet without baring the monster. But her scent; so captivating to me, it takes quite the restraint to keep him at bay. It radiates off of her like lamplight in the dark. I am the careless moth to her flame.
Estella stood impatiently in the doorway, she had changed from her Morte’ cat-suit to a lime green cotton sundress and tan sandals.
“Why didn’t you answer when I called?” She says her hand on her hip.
“When did you call?” I asked.
“Uh, just now?!”
“Sorry, Henri is asleep.” I reply with bad attitude.
Estella crouched and grabbed her mouth, “I’m sorry honey that will take some getting used to.” She says to Babet who forgives her aunt instantly.
“It’s okay, he sleeps like a rock. He plays hard and he sleeps hard.” Babet is still in quiet mode.
“Are you okay?” Estella says rushing to Babet’s side nearly knocking me down to get to her. Estella sits down like a stone and brushed the stray hairs off of Babet’s face. “I ask, because Cian can be a little stiff.” Estella said in jest. I smiled at the two beautiful women, taking the joke.
“No…He’s…Cian has been great.” She looked over to me and then back to Estella. I take in the chimes of her voice as she says my name, it is ecstasy. “We were just talking.”
“Oh? Do tell.” Estella, ever the gossip queen.
Estella observed our exchange of glances and instructed the young woman that it was late and asked if she had eaten and if she wanted anything. Babet is gracious and smart; she takes the hint and makes her way upstairs to check on sleeping Henri. Once Babet is out of sight, Estella swats me with the back of her hand. I look down at my arm and then to Estella. She is smiling her bright gleaming smile. For a moment I thought Estella was angry but her smile indicates that she is impressed with Babet and her demeanor.
“Pleased, I take it?”
“Of course. You can go now.” She says folding her arms under her breasts.
“I will as soon as I say good bye to Babet.” The ‘T’ I absentmindedly accentuate.
Estella turns to me at the sound, “Do I need to check her for marks Cian?” she jests but I am not amused.
“Don’t be ridiculous.” My tone is instantly angry.
“Lighten up, it was a joke.” She rolls her eyes at me.
I hear Babet descending the staircase; she is smiling when she rounds the corner to the long drawing room. Estella and I are carefully watching her until she notices and explains her happiness.
“Henri is dreaming; it must be a good one because he was giggling in his sleep.”
“Aw, so cute!” Estella should have been a mother; she clasps her hands together and looks so thoughtful at the notion of a giggling sleeping baby. If only she were always this sweet and agreeable.
“I’m off then.” I say to Estella and then glance over to Babet, “So I will see you at Audubon tomorrow night?”
Babet is silent but nods her head to agree to her whereabouts.
“Until then,” I bow my head to Babet and then turn back to Estella, “Call me if you need.”
“You, going home?”
“Aye, I’m looking forward to my own familiarity. Goodnight ladies.”
I make my way through the house and out the front door, taking one last look at the palatial Garden District home once I am through the wrought iron gate. Wish I had gotten the tour. I smirk to myself.
I reach my haven and mindlessly make it to the fifth floor. I am too engrossed in the night’s events, conversation and revelations about Babet Benoit to pay close attention to my surroundings. Born with a silver spoon in her mouth and raised as a proper southern lady until the mysterious disappearance/death of her father. Her mother painstakingly maintained their position in society, regardless of her daughter’s reluctance and suffering at the hands of her peers.
She escapes out of state after high school to avoid further social misery in her life only to return with child and boyfriend in tow. She’s an extraordinarily strong independent woman who is philanthropic and reflective, a loving mother. There is more, I know, so much more to her and I divulged more than I should. I know it is the first baby steps to a trusting relationship with Babet and hopefully in time and over time, her children; their children and their children’s children.
I vow after tonight to devote my life the remainder of my existence to this cause, to her. Finally, a worthy cause has reached me once more. Father I hope you can again be proud of me. Although as I lay in day-stasis I can’t help but think of her dreams and my visions and if the two are the same, the monster is all assuming and pretty fucking pleased with himself and a certain, almost human side of me is also pleased.
The following evening I arrive at Audubon and instantly I see Babet’s car and bright lights from the front of the townhouse. I hear music, a much harder genre of music than the previous night. I stand outside placing the song. I recognize the lead singer and deduce it to be Korn, who often use bagpipes in their songs. An aspect of their band I truly enjoy but this song particularly is unfamiliar to my ears. I approach the door, which had of course been replaced, and knock hard enough to penetrate the music. I see Babet approach the door, unlock it and pull it open to allow me entry.
“Hi.” She says as I pass her, she closes the door behind me. She’s wearing a baby blue sundress; her hair is wavy and flowing down her back, she smells exquisite. I look down and see her signature bare feet.
“You look nice; did Estella finally show you the clothes?” I ask.
“Thanks, yeah she went a little overboard and I told her so but she wouldn’t hear it. Scarlet really liked the pieces for her and Henri’s little wardrobe is uber cute.” She directs my attention to the little boy playing with cars on the living room floor who squeals in delight as the cars crash into each other.
“Wow, he’s…” I walk toward the living room as it’s the first time I have been in Henri’s presence while he is awake; truly awake. I lean against the door frame and watch him coo and cackle.
“He’s a handsome one, for sure and a spry wee bearn.” I look over at Babet who is having difficulty with my terminology.
“Spry wee bearn? Translate please.”
“Happy Little Baby.” I retort.
“Ah, that he is. A very happy boy. I’m glad he is oblivious to all of this, it’s a shame Scarlet’s not.”
“How is she?” I ask.
“Fine, she’s upstairs. She really likes her room here.”
“I’m glad; I hope to spend more time with her also. I would like to get her take on all of this. Is that wise?” Since I haven’t had much time with a teenager, not since Maggie was young; my sister the handful.
“You may ask, but, don’t expect her replies to hold any merit, she’s a teenager. At most you will get major sarcasm or nothing at all. You may have better result with Henri here.”
“He must favor his father; I don’t see much of you in there. Maybe the chin?”
“Yes, he is Grif’s boy for sure. Looks just like his daddy, especially his big blue eyes.” I look over and feel her internally cherishing the tiny boy, she then looks up at me, “Can I get you anything?”
“No, thank you.” I say my tone is sarcastically appreciative.
“Of, course, I apologize, it’s something that will take some getting used to.” I recall Estella’s exact words last night regarding sleeping baby Henri.
“Do you mind?” I turn to Babet.
“Hmm?”
“Sit with Henri?”
“Sure, be careful though, sometimes he is less than receptive to new people.” She says over the granite bar into the living room.
I slowly approach Henri, kneeling down to the floor. He immediately looks up at me then to his mother who is busy in the kitchen. He is watching me closely. I feel tension rise in the baby and must squelch it before Babet notices.
“Do you have a car?” I say sweetly to the boy.
“Ca-h!” He responds holding a blue car up for me to take. I oblige; he picks up the red car in his chubby little digits. “Red!” He says.
I look up to the bar and Babet is watching our exchange, clearly surprised by his acceptance of me. “He likes you.” She says smiling.
“I like him right back.” I roll the blue car across the floor parking it next to Henri’s red car.
“So, I went to the grocery store today, since there is obviously no food in the house, which is understandable. I’m going to cook dinner for the kids, that won’t bother you will it?”
“Not at all, in fact the smell of human food is quite pleasurable. What’s for dinner?”
She laughs, Christ I love her laugh, “Breakfast sausage, pancakes and eggs.”
“Sounds delicious.” I reply as Henri is crashing his red car into my blue car, he is quite proud of himself as he looks up at me. I smile and he smiles back. Babet goes to the bottom of the stairs and calls up to Scarlet, “How many eggs do you want!”
A muffled reply wafts down the stairs, “Two!”
I watch as Babet nods and roll her eyes at teenage insolence. She catches me and smiles, quickly returning to the kitchen. While there is a break in conversation I inquire about the music when I arrived as it ceased after I knocked on the door.
“You were listening to something when I arrived, what was it?”
“In Scarlet’s opinion they are considered old, but I believe what was on when you knocked was Korn’s “My Gift to You”, I love the bagpipes and his anger is relatable. Molly introduced me to them way back in the day. You like?” She says while moving about the kitchen preparing, mixing, and stirring.
“I did, I do. I know Korn, they play it regularly at Morte’. “Life Is Peachy” is a good album, I can relate to that one.”
She smiles, “Yeah, I love that one. What else do they play at Morte’? Sounds like my kind of place.” She feigns embarrassment, “Sounds like it used to be my kind of place.”
“I would hope to never see you there, but they play a wide range of heavy music. Do you gravitate more toward that genre?”
“No, I like all kinds of music, but in my younger days, I could relate more to the angry heavy stuff. Now I listen to it, because I truly enjoy the music instead of dwelling on what I have in common with the lyrics.”
“Lyrics can be powerful and the lyrics in heavier music are definitely more relatable to a vampire…”
Suddenly I hear the distinct sound of the same genre with an entirely younger feel coming from upstairs, I turn to look at Babet, she pauses to listen to the path for feet from the bedroom to the bathroom back to the bedroom, the door closes and the music is more difficult to hear.
“Well, I thought she might come down, but I guess not.”
“Give her time; she’s lost a lot too.”
“I know and her dad being so far away doesn’t help her, I don’t mind it but I can understand missing your father, especially at such a young age.”
“Where is he?” I ask.
“He’s in North Carolina, or last I heard that was where he was. Scarlet said his mother moved back up north, Ohio I think. It’s where they are originally from.”
“Does she talk to him often?”
“I wouldn’t know, she has her own cell and he and I don’t talk unless it’s something dire with her. Which is rare, she’s a great kid. She’s just…a teenage girl.”
“I understand.” I say but I can tell she isn’t convinced.
“Really?”
“Yes, I have…had a sister, Maggie. She was fifteen when were separated and a handful to say the least.”
http://www.amazon.com/Revelations-Cia...
Revelations of Cian
Estella stood impatiently in the doorway, she had changed from her Morte’ cat-suit to a lime green cotton sundress and tan sandals.
“Why didn’t you answer when I called?” She says her hand on her hip.
“When did you call?” I asked.
“Uh, just now?!”
“Sorry, Henri is asleep.” I reply with bad attitude.
Estella crouched and grabbed her mouth, “I’m sorry honey that will take some getting used to.” She says to Babet who forgives her aunt instantly.
“It’s okay, he sleeps like a rock. He plays hard and he sleeps hard.” Babet is still in quiet mode.
“Are you okay?” Estella says rushing to Babet’s side nearly knocking me down to get to her. Estella sits down like a stone and brushed the stray hairs off of Babet’s face. “I ask, because Cian can be a little stiff.” Estella said in jest. I smiled at the two beautiful women, taking the joke.
“No…He’s…Cian has been great.” She looked over to me and then back to Estella. I take in the chimes of her voice as she says my name, it is ecstasy. “We were just talking.”
“Oh? Do tell.” Estella, ever the gossip queen.
Estella observed our exchange of glances and instructed the young woman that it was late and asked if she had eaten and if she wanted anything. Babet is gracious and smart; she takes the hint and makes her way upstairs to check on sleeping Henri. Once Babet is out of sight, Estella swats me with the back of her hand. I look down at my arm and then to Estella. She is smiling her bright gleaming smile. For a moment I thought Estella was angry but her smile indicates that she is impressed with Babet and her demeanor.
“Pleased, I take it?”
“Of course. You can go now.” She says folding her arms under her breasts.
“I will as soon as I say good bye to Babet.” The ‘T’ I absentmindedly accentuate.
Estella turns to me at the sound, “Do I need to check her for marks Cian?” she jests but I am not amused.
“Don’t be ridiculous.” My tone is instantly angry.
“Lighten up, it was a joke.” She rolls her eyes at me.
I hear Babet descending the staircase; she is smiling when she rounds the corner to the long drawing room. Estella and I are carefully watching her until she notices and explains her happiness.
“Henri is dreaming; it must be a good one because he was giggling in his sleep.”
“Aw, so cute!” Estella should have been a mother; she clasps her hands together and looks so thoughtful at the notion of a giggling sleeping baby. If only she were always this sweet and agreeable.
“I’m off then.” I say to Estella and then glance over to Babet, “So I will see you at Audubon tomorrow night?”
Babet is silent but nods her head to agree to her whereabouts.
“Until then,” I bow my head to Babet and then turn back to Estella, “Call me if you need.”
“You, going home?”
“Aye, I’m looking forward to my own familiarity. Goodnight ladies.”
I make my way through the house and out the front door, taking one last look at the palatial Garden District home once I am through the wrought iron gate. Wish I had gotten the tour. I smirk to myself.
I reach my haven and mindlessly make it to the fifth floor. I am too engrossed in the night’s events, conversation and revelations about Babet Benoit to pay close attention to my surroundings. Born with a silver spoon in her mouth and raised as a proper southern lady until the mysterious disappearance/death of her father. Her mother painstakingly maintained their position in society, regardless of her daughter’s reluctance and suffering at the hands of her peers.
She escapes out of state after high school to avoid further social misery in her life only to return with child and boyfriend in tow. She’s an extraordinarily strong independent woman who is philanthropic and reflective, a loving mother. There is more, I know, so much more to her and I divulged more than I should. I know it is the first baby steps to a trusting relationship with Babet and hopefully in time and over time, her children; their children and their children’s children.
I vow after tonight to devote my life the remainder of my existence to this cause, to her. Finally, a worthy cause has reached me once more. Father I hope you can again be proud of me. Although as I lay in day-stasis I can’t help but think of her dreams and my visions and if the two are the same, the monster is all assuming and pretty fucking pleased with himself and a certain, almost human side of me is also pleased.
The following evening I arrive at Audubon and instantly I see Babet’s car and bright lights from the front of the townhouse. I hear music, a much harder genre of music than the previous night. I stand outside placing the song. I recognize the lead singer and deduce it to be Korn, who often use bagpipes in their songs. An aspect of their band I truly enjoy but this song particularly is unfamiliar to my ears. I approach the door, which had of course been replaced, and knock hard enough to penetrate the music. I see Babet approach the door, unlock it and pull it open to allow me entry.
“Hi.” She says as I pass her, she closes the door behind me. She’s wearing a baby blue sundress; her hair is wavy and flowing down her back, she smells exquisite. I look down and see her signature bare feet.
“You look nice; did Estella finally show you the clothes?” I ask.
“Thanks, yeah she went a little overboard and I told her so but she wouldn’t hear it. Scarlet really liked the pieces for her and Henri’s little wardrobe is uber cute.” She directs my attention to the little boy playing with cars on the living room floor who squeals in delight as the cars crash into each other.
“Wow, he’s…” I walk toward the living room as it’s the first time I have been in Henri’s presence while he is awake; truly awake. I lean against the door frame and watch him coo and cackle.
“He’s a handsome one, for sure and a spry wee bearn.” I look over at Babet who is having difficulty with my terminology.
“Spry wee bearn? Translate please.”
“Happy Little Baby.” I retort.
“Ah, that he is. A very happy boy. I’m glad he is oblivious to all of this, it’s a shame Scarlet’s not.”
“How is she?” I ask.
“Fine, she’s upstairs. She really likes her room here.”
“I’m glad; I hope to spend more time with her also. I would like to get her take on all of this. Is that wise?” Since I haven’t had much time with a teenager, not since Maggie was young; my sister the handful.
“You may ask, but, don’t expect her replies to hold any merit, she’s a teenager. At most you will get major sarcasm or nothing at all. You may have better result with Henri here.”
“He must favor his father; I don’t see much of you in there. Maybe the chin?”
“Yes, he is Grif’s boy for sure. Looks just like his daddy, especially his big blue eyes.” I look over and feel her internally cherishing the tiny boy, she then looks up at me, “Can I get you anything?”
“No, thank you.” I say my tone is sarcastically appreciative.
“Of, course, I apologize, it’s something that will take some getting used to.” I recall Estella’s exact words last night regarding sleeping baby Henri.
“Do you mind?” I turn to Babet.
“Hmm?”
“Sit with Henri?”
“Sure, be careful though, sometimes he is less than receptive to new people.” She says over the granite bar into the living room.
I slowly approach Henri, kneeling down to the floor. He immediately looks up at me then to his mother who is busy in the kitchen. He is watching me closely. I feel tension rise in the baby and must squelch it before Babet notices.
“Do you have a car?” I say sweetly to the boy.
“Ca-h!” He responds holding a blue car up for me to take. I oblige; he picks up the red car in his chubby little digits. “Red!” He says.
I look up to the bar and Babet is watching our exchange, clearly surprised by his acceptance of me. “He likes you.” She says smiling.
“I like him right back.” I roll the blue car across the floor parking it next to Henri’s red car.
“So, I went to the grocery store today, since there is obviously no food in the house, which is understandable. I’m going to cook dinner for the kids, that won’t bother you will it?”
“Not at all, in fact the smell of human food is quite pleasurable. What’s for dinner?”
She laughs, Christ I love her laugh, “Breakfast sausage, pancakes and eggs.”
“Sounds delicious.” I reply as Henri is crashing his red car into my blue car, he is quite proud of himself as he looks up at me. I smile and he smiles back. Babet goes to the bottom of the stairs and calls up to Scarlet, “How many eggs do you want!”
A muffled reply wafts down the stairs, “Two!”
I watch as Babet nods and roll her eyes at teenage insolence. She catches me and smiles, quickly returning to the kitchen. While there is a break in conversation I inquire about the music when I arrived as it ceased after I knocked on the door.
“You were listening to something when I arrived, what was it?”
“In Scarlet’s opinion they are considered old, but I believe what was on when you knocked was Korn’s “My Gift to You”, I love the bagpipes and his anger is relatable. Molly introduced me to them way back in the day. You like?” She says while moving about the kitchen preparing, mixing, and stirring.
“I did, I do. I know Korn, they play it regularly at Morte’. “Life Is Peachy” is a good album, I can relate to that one.”
She smiles, “Yeah, I love that one. What else do they play at Morte’? Sounds like my kind of place.” She feigns embarrassment, “Sounds like it used to be my kind of place.”
“I would hope to never see you there, but they play a wide range of heavy music. Do you gravitate more toward that genre?”
“No, I like all kinds of music, but in my younger days, I could relate more to the angry heavy stuff. Now I listen to it, because I truly enjoy the music instead of dwelling on what I have in common with the lyrics.”
“Lyrics can be powerful and the lyrics in heavier music are definitely more relatable to a vampire…”
Suddenly I hear the distinct sound of the same genre with an entirely younger feel coming from upstairs, I turn to look at Babet, she pauses to listen to the path for feet from the bedroom to the bathroom back to the bedroom, the door closes and the music is more difficult to hear.
“Well, I thought she might come down, but I guess not.”
“Give her time; she’s lost a lot too.”
“I know and her dad being so far away doesn’t help her, I don’t mind it but I can understand missing your father, especially at such a young age.”
“Where is he?” I ask.
“He’s in North Carolina, or last I heard that was where he was. Scarlet said his mother moved back up north, Ohio I think. It’s where they are originally from.”
“Does she talk to him often?”
“I wouldn’t know, she has her own cell and he and I don’t talk unless it’s something dire with her. Which is rare, she’s a great kid. She’s just…a teenage girl.”
“I understand.” I say but I can tell she isn’t convinced.
“Really?”
“Yes, I have…had a sister, Maggie. She was fifteen when were separated and a handful to say the least.”
http://www.amazon.com/Revelations-Cia...
Revelations of Cian
Babet can hold her own; observe...
Babet is taken aback but seemingly happy about this fraction of information she has obtained. I can’t say I don’t want to divulge more to her, but for her safety I can’t and I contemplate sharing at least my happy memories of this existence. I have plenty of good times I can recall; but more bad and some beginning positively only to end negatively. For the time being I think I will play with her in hopes of coaxing more of her laughter out.
“I had a mother and a father too, can you believe that?” Slathered in sarcasm like a pat of butter spread over the pancakes she is making. She doesn’t miss a beat.
“You did?! Shocker! Honestly I thought you burst from some demon’s head, full grown like Athena from Zeus.” She laughs at the thought and I love the sound. I close my eyes and revel in it, but I am caught once again.
“Are you okay?”
I straighten and open my eyes to her staring at me, “I’m sorry, I enjoy your laugh.”
“My laugh?” She finds this strange and an uncomfortable aura befalls her.
“Once again, innocent human laughter is not something I am used to. Maniacal Hysteria is close to what I am familiar with.”
She catches me off guard, “That’s very sad, I’m sorry.” sympathetic angel that she is.
“Meeting you is my re-understanding of a new kindness in today’s human world. I am thankful for this experience and opportunity. Thank you Babet.” The ‘T’ gets its prize and I hear it in my own voice, the charm is squeezing through. I have to rein it in; we are only on day two after all. She takes this in and keeps her defensive guard up.
“Well, what can I say, you’re welcome. Glad I could have all this befall me for you to gain a new experience…..” she stops, waiting for my retort, “…I am kidding.”
I don’t laugh because she is right, how dare I suggest that any of this is a good thing; meeting us, being under our thumbs, her husband, and her livelihood. “No….you are right. I apologize.”
She rolls her eyes, “Please, Cian. It was a joke.” She diverts her attention to the popping of the skillet on the stove, the spicy smell of breakfast sausage wafts through the house and brings out another type of creature; the teenager. I smile inwardly to myself as I hear the fast paced feet down the upstairs hall and down the stairs.
“When’s dinner?” It’s Scarlet, coaxed from her dwelling by the scent of pork sustenance. One track at a time mind, those teens.
“Hey sweetie, it’ll be ready in about fifteen minutes, you hungry?” Babet has the perfect maternal tone.
“Starving….where’s Henri?” She peeks around the door frame for her brother but sees me instead, “Oh, hi.”
“Hello.” I am careful, as the greeting I just received wasn’t the most welcome.
Babet can sense this about her daughter and comes to both our rescues, “Scar, come whisk these eggs for me.”
The girl goes and does as she’s told, occasionally peeking in my direction, wary of my closeness to her brother but I continue to play cars with the little tyke who seems perfectly at ease with me. It continues this way until Babet calls time to eat. She places the paper plates on the table with butter and syrup, she then turns and heads to grab up Henri. The little one puts a bit of a fuss, having to leave his cars and new playmate. I decide to excuse myself, giving them the family time they need.
“I am going to step out to make a call.” I announce before striding to the door.
“Are you sure, we don’t mind you being here.” Babet is most gracious, but I leave none the less.
Outside the air is crisp and smells at this time of night are of many sorts. Fresh beignets and café au lait, grilled meats and blended drinks, cigarette and cigar smoke fills the senses, each discernible from the last. I reach into my pants pocket to retrieve my cell phone and call Estella. It rings twice and when it is answered all I hear is pounding music and a faint, “Cian.”
“Go somewhere you can hear me properly please.”
“Yes, sir.” I can hear her exasperation, but she is doing as I ask, the music is slowly fading. “Okay”
“Took you long enough.” I jest, after all we are vampires.
“I hope this is not why you called, to give me shit.” She isn’t having a good night that is now clear.
“I apologize, no it isn’t. I called to ask what time you would be arriving at Audubon.”
“Yeah, I have been taken off that this week.”
“I understand your frustration then.” Poor sweet Estella, she gains a real relationship with actual family and the first week she is hindered from it.
“It is what it is.” She is beyond irritated, that phrase is a tell of Estella’s. A mantra she’s come to live by while in league with Madliene.
“I’m truly sorry E.” I rarely use this to identify Estella but it’s an endearment I have for her she doesn’t bother arguing over. I feel it shows her I have a special place for her in my cold heart.
“Just….keep her safe Cian.” Her tone strikes me as unconventional and I become suspicious of it.
“Has something happened Estella?”
“What? No! I just….look, it is what it is. I have to go back; the boys will be looking for me if I don’t.”
“I know, listen, before you go. Know that I am here for you as I always have been and I will keep your family as safe as I would keep my own.”
“I know, I trust you.” The same words Babet uttered last night; it’s beguiling, the distant relatives are more alike than we all think. “I’ll call after closing.”
“Please do.”
I hang up the phone but detect a distasteful feeling pecking at me, Estella seems off. Usually I would be fine with her mood and have confidence that she could handle herself, but the situation with Babet has caused a metamorphic ripple in Estella and my everyday routine. If I was honest with myself I would admit that I am truly grateful for the change, even if it’s temporary. I believe Estella would also welcome it, should Madliene give her the opportunity for longer than a single night. I am snapped back to the here and now by the sound of running water and the skillet hitting the sink inside.
“Hey, everything okay?” Babet is elbow deep in soapy water.
“Yes. What are you washing; there couldn’t have been dishes here?” I ask humor in my voice.
“You are correct, there were no dishes here when I arrived this afternoon, so the kids and I went out and purchased some necessities….and in the south honey,” she projects a deep southern drawl, “you must have a cast iron skillet.” She holds the heavy pan up from the water.
“Good for everything, I hear.”
“No lie, no lie.” She rinses the pan and places it face down on a laid out towel.
“You know you can have Estella call Thessaly for anything you need.” I say chastising but friendly.
She nods while rinsing her hands under the water but I can see and feel I am about to be learned once again how Babet ticks, “I appreciate that, but I have one request from you all in this situation and I am going to be as respectful as possible. I am not a prisoner, correct?” she stares into me.
“Correct, but…” I am cut off.
“Fine…I have spent nearly half my life taking care of myself and at least one other person if not two. I am capable of picking up and picking out my own necessities of life. I am being gracious enough to go along with this arrangement but I honestly could go and stay with Frankie or Molly, hell, I can go stay at my mother’s condo until she returns from Mexico. The fact of the matter is I am intrigued by you and Estella and the possibility of something other than what I have been taught, being present in this world is, at first, frightening. I’ll give you that, but it’s also bewilderingly wonderful.”
Wonderful? She thinks we are wonderful? Dazzlingly wonderful, dangerously wonderful. Wrongfully wonderful, wonderfully damned.
“Cian?”
I feel my own emotion becoming indignant, “Frightening, absolutely. Bewildering, yes but Babet, we; our kind, are in no way wonderful.”
“But…”
“No.” I turn away from her and take a deep breath which was not in my best judgment. I run a hand through my raven hair to the back of my head. Mr. Hyde peeks around his rock, I feel him creeping out. He has to remain at bay, although to show her, truly show him to her would put her in her place. To see what is after her, stare into the face of her stalker. I can’t believe I am considering such frivolity.
“Please don’t turn away from me Cian. I’ve said my piece. I just…”
My face returns to normal and I turn to face her again, I place my hands on the cold granite countertop. “You are absolutely right; you are very capable of taking care of yourself and clearly two others, in a normal world or the world you thought you inhabited. But this….thing, you alone cannot defend against. It is working meticulously to sever your ties to the human world. Your husband was the beginning, your home and studio is step two, which I am positive this thing was hoping the fire would, please excuse me, eliminate your children from the equation.” She takes a deep breath and glances over at Henri who is now watching multicolored creatures and their orange human friend dance around on television. The boy notices in his peripheral his mother is staring at him, he turns to her and she smiles. As she does a single tear rolls down her cheek which she quickly wipes away.
“Mama!” Henri points to Babet, he then flicks his eyes and his finger in my direction, “Cian!” He’s definitely observant.
Babet looks over at me and winks but I can still see the dread in her eyes, “Smart little tape recorder.”
“Tay-pe-cort-er.” Henri says before returning his attention to the television.
She crosses her arms under her breasts and hugs them to her taking a deep breath, “See.” Babet turns back to the skillet drying on the counter. She drops her arms and pulls a tub of Crisco out of a shopping bag, cracks it open and begins to grease the pan. “I don’t suppose you know what I’m doing?”
“Savoring the flavor?” I say smiling to hopefully ease her tension from the previous conversation.
“Exactly.” It works.
Once Henri is bathed Babet puts him to bed. Scarlet is holed up in her room and it’s apparent she will not be showing her face for the rest of the evening. I can see Babet’s relief that the day is over and settled. She sits down on the couch opposite me, the blue sundress billows as she does, the air hits me. I feel him, the monster has detected this. Her intoxicating scent mixed with erotic sweat, he’s there, but I fight him. She is oblivious as she bends her right leg to rest it on the couch; she places her hand on the dress so not to reveal what’s beneath it.
She is facing me and I have to break our silence, “Where did we leave off earlier?”
“Oh, I don’t know.” She runs her fingers over her forehead, “Oh!” Her eyes burst open at me. “I forgot to tell you, tomorrow night is Molly’s show.”
http://www.amazon.com/Revelations-Cia...
“I had a mother and a father too, can you believe that?” Slathered in sarcasm like a pat of butter spread over the pancakes she is making. She doesn’t miss a beat.
“You did?! Shocker! Honestly I thought you burst from some demon’s head, full grown like Athena from Zeus.” She laughs at the thought and I love the sound. I close my eyes and revel in it, but I am caught once again.
“Are you okay?”
I straighten and open my eyes to her staring at me, “I’m sorry, I enjoy your laugh.”
“My laugh?” She finds this strange and an uncomfortable aura befalls her.
“Once again, innocent human laughter is not something I am used to. Maniacal Hysteria is close to what I am familiar with.”
She catches me off guard, “That’s very sad, I’m sorry.” sympathetic angel that she is.
“Meeting you is my re-understanding of a new kindness in today’s human world. I am thankful for this experience and opportunity. Thank you Babet.” The ‘T’ gets its prize and I hear it in my own voice, the charm is squeezing through. I have to rein it in; we are only on day two after all. She takes this in and keeps her defensive guard up.
“Well, what can I say, you’re welcome. Glad I could have all this befall me for you to gain a new experience…..” she stops, waiting for my retort, “…I am kidding.”
I don’t laugh because she is right, how dare I suggest that any of this is a good thing; meeting us, being under our thumbs, her husband, and her livelihood. “No….you are right. I apologize.”
She rolls her eyes, “Please, Cian. It was a joke.” She diverts her attention to the popping of the skillet on the stove, the spicy smell of breakfast sausage wafts through the house and brings out another type of creature; the teenager. I smile inwardly to myself as I hear the fast paced feet down the upstairs hall and down the stairs.
“When’s dinner?” It’s Scarlet, coaxed from her dwelling by the scent of pork sustenance. One track at a time mind, those teens.
“Hey sweetie, it’ll be ready in about fifteen minutes, you hungry?” Babet has the perfect maternal tone.
“Starving….where’s Henri?” She peeks around the door frame for her brother but sees me instead, “Oh, hi.”
“Hello.” I am careful, as the greeting I just received wasn’t the most welcome.
Babet can sense this about her daughter and comes to both our rescues, “Scar, come whisk these eggs for me.”
The girl goes and does as she’s told, occasionally peeking in my direction, wary of my closeness to her brother but I continue to play cars with the little tyke who seems perfectly at ease with me. It continues this way until Babet calls time to eat. She places the paper plates on the table with butter and syrup, she then turns and heads to grab up Henri. The little one puts a bit of a fuss, having to leave his cars and new playmate. I decide to excuse myself, giving them the family time they need.
“I am going to step out to make a call.” I announce before striding to the door.
“Are you sure, we don’t mind you being here.” Babet is most gracious, but I leave none the less.
Outside the air is crisp and smells at this time of night are of many sorts. Fresh beignets and café au lait, grilled meats and blended drinks, cigarette and cigar smoke fills the senses, each discernible from the last. I reach into my pants pocket to retrieve my cell phone and call Estella. It rings twice and when it is answered all I hear is pounding music and a faint, “Cian.”
“Go somewhere you can hear me properly please.”
“Yes, sir.” I can hear her exasperation, but she is doing as I ask, the music is slowly fading. “Okay”
“Took you long enough.” I jest, after all we are vampires.
“I hope this is not why you called, to give me shit.” She isn’t having a good night that is now clear.
“I apologize, no it isn’t. I called to ask what time you would be arriving at Audubon.”
“Yeah, I have been taken off that this week.”
“I understand your frustration then.” Poor sweet Estella, she gains a real relationship with actual family and the first week she is hindered from it.
“It is what it is.” She is beyond irritated, that phrase is a tell of Estella’s. A mantra she’s come to live by while in league with Madliene.
“I’m truly sorry E.” I rarely use this to identify Estella but it’s an endearment I have for her she doesn’t bother arguing over. I feel it shows her I have a special place for her in my cold heart.
“Just….keep her safe Cian.” Her tone strikes me as unconventional and I become suspicious of it.
“Has something happened Estella?”
“What? No! I just….look, it is what it is. I have to go back; the boys will be looking for me if I don’t.”
“I know, listen, before you go. Know that I am here for you as I always have been and I will keep your family as safe as I would keep my own.”
“I know, I trust you.” The same words Babet uttered last night; it’s beguiling, the distant relatives are more alike than we all think. “I’ll call after closing.”
“Please do.”
I hang up the phone but detect a distasteful feeling pecking at me, Estella seems off. Usually I would be fine with her mood and have confidence that she could handle herself, but the situation with Babet has caused a metamorphic ripple in Estella and my everyday routine. If I was honest with myself I would admit that I am truly grateful for the change, even if it’s temporary. I believe Estella would also welcome it, should Madliene give her the opportunity for longer than a single night. I am snapped back to the here and now by the sound of running water and the skillet hitting the sink inside.
“Hey, everything okay?” Babet is elbow deep in soapy water.
“Yes. What are you washing; there couldn’t have been dishes here?” I ask humor in my voice.
“You are correct, there were no dishes here when I arrived this afternoon, so the kids and I went out and purchased some necessities….and in the south honey,” she projects a deep southern drawl, “you must have a cast iron skillet.” She holds the heavy pan up from the water.
“Good for everything, I hear.”
“No lie, no lie.” She rinses the pan and places it face down on a laid out towel.
“You know you can have Estella call Thessaly for anything you need.” I say chastising but friendly.
She nods while rinsing her hands under the water but I can see and feel I am about to be learned once again how Babet ticks, “I appreciate that, but I have one request from you all in this situation and I am going to be as respectful as possible. I am not a prisoner, correct?” she stares into me.
“Correct, but…” I am cut off.
“Fine…I have spent nearly half my life taking care of myself and at least one other person if not two. I am capable of picking up and picking out my own necessities of life. I am being gracious enough to go along with this arrangement but I honestly could go and stay with Frankie or Molly, hell, I can go stay at my mother’s condo until she returns from Mexico. The fact of the matter is I am intrigued by you and Estella and the possibility of something other than what I have been taught, being present in this world is, at first, frightening. I’ll give you that, but it’s also bewilderingly wonderful.”
Wonderful? She thinks we are wonderful? Dazzlingly wonderful, dangerously wonderful. Wrongfully wonderful, wonderfully damned.
“Cian?”
I feel my own emotion becoming indignant, “Frightening, absolutely. Bewildering, yes but Babet, we; our kind, are in no way wonderful.”
“But…”
“No.” I turn away from her and take a deep breath which was not in my best judgment. I run a hand through my raven hair to the back of my head. Mr. Hyde peeks around his rock, I feel him creeping out. He has to remain at bay, although to show her, truly show him to her would put her in her place. To see what is after her, stare into the face of her stalker. I can’t believe I am considering such frivolity.
“Please don’t turn away from me Cian. I’ve said my piece. I just…”
My face returns to normal and I turn to face her again, I place my hands on the cold granite countertop. “You are absolutely right; you are very capable of taking care of yourself and clearly two others, in a normal world or the world you thought you inhabited. But this….thing, you alone cannot defend against. It is working meticulously to sever your ties to the human world. Your husband was the beginning, your home and studio is step two, which I am positive this thing was hoping the fire would, please excuse me, eliminate your children from the equation.” She takes a deep breath and glances over at Henri who is now watching multicolored creatures and their orange human friend dance around on television. The boy notices in his peripheral his mother is staring at him, he turns to her and she smiles. As she does a single tear rolls down her cheek which she quickly wipes away.
“Mama!” Henri points to Babet, he then flicks his eyes and his finger in my direction, “Cian!” He’s definitely observant.
Babet looks over at me and winks but I can still see the dread in her eyes, “Smart little tape recorder.”
“Tay-pe-cort-er.” Henri says before returning his attention to the television.
She crosses her arms under her breasts and hugs them to her taking a deep breath, “See.” Babet turns back to the skillet drying on the counter. She drops her arms and pulls a tub of Crisco out of a shopping bag, cracks it open and begins to grease the pan. “I don’t suppose you know what I’m doing?”
“Savoring the flavor?” I say smiling to hopefully ease her tension from the previous conversation.
“Exactly.” It works.
Once Henri is bathed Babet puts him to bed. Scarlet is holed up in her room and it’s apparent she will not be showing her face for the rest of the evening. I can see Babet’s relief that the day is over and settled. She sits down on the couch opposite me, the blue sundress billows as she does, the air hits me. I feel him, the monster has detected this. Her intoxicating scent mixed with erotic sweat, he’s there, but I fight him. She is oblivious as she bends her right leg to rest it on the couch; she places her hand on the dress so not to reveal what’s beneath it.
She is facing me and I have to break our silence, “Where did we leave off earlier?”
“Oh, I don’t know.” She runs her fingers over her forehead, “Oh!” Her eyes burst open at me. “I forgot to tell you, tomorrow night is Molly’s show.”
http://www.amazon.com/Revelations-Cia...
So MANY revelations in such a small amount of time...
I don’t reveal anything, “I agree she has been through a lot. Her aunt is helping her cope; I am in town to visit her aunt. She, asked me to accompany her. It’s as simple as that.” I smile hoping to squelch this.
“Yeah, right, her aunt?” Frankie has clearly had enough champagne, “ I’ve known Babe my whole life and I don’t know this woman.” She pauses and looks deeper into my eyes, leaning to do so. “You’re not gay. Don’t think I don’t know.” She is pointing at me and shaking her head as she walks away.
Babet closes in on me, “What was that?” Her tone is humorously worried.
“Nothing.” I say smiling. “Are you ready to go?”
She sighs, “Yes, I already said good-bye to Molly and Wade. Frankie and Marcus are going to a bar after this, I told her I was leaving then. I just got…” She sighs again, “...caught up.”
She is emotionally and visibly exhausted, “Is everything okay?” I ask.
“Yes. And no. Braxton Mimieux was there, he grabbed me; said his dad has been trying to call me and of course when I look at my cell, I have four missed calls from his father. I feel like an idiot, here I am traipsing around New Orleans with you when I should be sitting on my cell waiting to hear from him.”
I am confused by so much, “First, who is Braxton Mimieux?”
“He’s the Fire Marshal’s son, we went to school together.”
The elevator finally arrives and we enter, she presses the button for Molly’s floor. I reach over to stop the dangling cage after it begins to move down.
“What are you doing?” She asks her eyes green and wide.
“What did he say?” We are face to face, eye to eye.
“Braxton said his dad has been trying to get up with me to give me his report on the fire at Scarlet Henri.” She is trying to read me for something.
“Did Braxton’s father happen to tell his son what the report said?” My tone seems aggravated.
She isn’t taken aback as if she has become accustomed to my mercurial nature, “Yes.” I wait patiently for her to continue but she is fidgeting with her fingers, “It wasn’t faulty wiring.” She says peeking up at me through lacquered lashes. I feel my face turn hard and so does she, “But he’s putting it in his report anyway. Insurance and all.”
“Wouldn’t he be falsifying the documentation?”
She takes a deep breath, “Thomas Mimieux and my father were best friends. They were volunteer firemen together before Tom became Marshal and my father….he is doing it to help me. My father had a big insurance policy on that building, Tom knows it will help me…” she pauses and I feel shame and regret rush through her.
“I know,” I grab her and pull her to me, she releases breathy sobs into my chest, the warm air from her mouth seeps through my shirt to my cold skin and I feel an electricity between us. I reach over and start the elevator again. The doors open on the third floor and standing in front of them is Frankie and Marcus. Who is as talkative as he was the first night I saw the small group of friends. I drop my arms around Babet and Frankie looks to us both before saying, “Uh-huh.” We exit and Marcus enters releasing Frankie’s tiny engulfed hand. She stands idle until we pass her by; she grabs Babet and kisses her cheek all the while keeping close eye on me.
“Frankie!” Marcus calls and his wife obediently enters the elevator.
The doors close and we are standing in front of Molly’s apartment. We enter and it’s much more disheveled than when we first arrived. I wait while Babet descends the staircase, returning with fast asleep Henri and groggy Scarlet. We are silent in the elevator and in the car.
We arrive back at Audubon and like a zombie Scarlet heads upstairs, her mother close behind her. Babet returns, having changed out of her party attire. The thin pair of pajama pants hang off her frame and the flimsy tank top doesn’t leave a lot to the imagination and I realize these are the clothes I met her in. Face to face, eye to eye. I detect a slight hint of smoke when she plops down on the couch beside me; the fire still resonating in the fabric.
She must be tossing her thoughts around, because she blurts out, “I will call Tom in the morning. I can meet up with him and get a copy of the report for the insurance adjuster.”
I nod, “Please don’t feel like you have to stay up and entertain me Babet. I know you’re tired.”
Her brow furrows and at the moment I can’t discern her emotions, “I want to talk about tonight.”
I try to keep the conversation lighthearted, “You’re friends are nice, I truly enjoyed meeting Molly…and Frankie.”
She scoffs and laughs, “Yeah, I’m sure I’ll be read the riot act tomorrow sometime…but that’s not what I meant, and you know it.”
I take a deep breath but she doesn’t allow me to begin, “I loved ...I love my husband and I miss him…I feel…but there is something about you, specifically, I can’t...whatever. I think of nothing all day but what’s happened and how I can pick up the pieces for me and my kids. I stress and I…I cry. Until you arrive. It all goes away.” I am utterly ecstatic at this revelation but I can feel there is more to come.
“I’m ashamed at how easily I forget the disappearance of my husband, the burning of my studio and the placement with complete yet astonishing strangers. Beautiful strangers. The dreams are too much to take sometimes but at the same time I feel…I feel like I am supposed to be here, with you.” She is chagrin but in her eyes I see something else, almost a flicker of confidence, like this is something she has wanted to say for a sometime.
I decide to divulge my deepest secret where Babet is concerned, “Aye,” I say and look deep into her, “I too feel it.”
Relief befalls her and I smile at the ease of her emotions but she is still pondering something, “You know you can stay downstairs if you want. Estella says it’s light tight even though your Queen has never stayed down there. I haven’t been down there. Honestly I’m kind of scared to go down there.” She says and laughs at her own ridiculousness.
“Would you like me to go down there with you?” I ask, teasing her.
She swats me and rolls her eyes, “No. I don’t need to go down there anyway. Thank God for the laundry facilities being upstairs. That is awesome, next house I buy I want my washer and dryer upstairs. Hmm?”
“Hmm?” I mirror her.
“I was just thinking about that, where to look for a new place. I like this townhouse and I’m sure I could find an open unit.” She laughs due to all the for sale signs in the neighborhood.
“Aye.” We both enjoy the joke and the easy turn the night has made, but I didn’t want to be rude and keep her waiting for an answer to her offer, “I appreciate your offer, my warehouse isn’t far, besides I don’t know how Estella, or the Queen for that matter would feel about me staying here during the day.”
Disappointment flows over her, “Oh, okay. Well, Estella said the Queen said it was her call, Estella said it was mine and I am offering if you are interested.” She says this very matter-of-factly.
Oh, Babet. If you only knew how truly interested I am, “I see, well…for tonight I will respectfully decline but if you will…allow me, tomorrow night?” I’m warily awaiting her reply.
“Sure. Tomorrow.” She is short with me as she rises from the couch, “You’re right, I am tired.” She turns to take the stairs, “See you tomorrow, and hey; feel free to come in from now on. You don’t need to knock.” She half smiles and I watch her until she is gone.
http://www.amazon.com/Revelations-Cia...
“Yeah, right, her aunt?” Frankie has clearly had enough champagne, “ I’ve known Babe my whole life and I don’t know this woman.” She pauses and looks deeper into my eyes, leaning to do so. “You’re not gay. Don’t think I don’t know.” She is pointing at me and shaking her head as she walks away.
Babet closes in on me, “What was that?” Her tone is humorously worried.
“Nothing.” I say smiling. “Are you ready to go?”
She sighs, “Yes, I already said good-bye to Molly and Wade. Frankie and Marcus are going to a bar after this, I told her I was leaving then. I just got…” She sighs again, “...caught up.”
She is emotionally and visibly exhausted, “Is everything okay?” I ask.
“Yes. And no. Braxton Mimieux was there, he grabbed me; said his dad has been trying to call me and of course when I look at my cell, I have four missed calls from his father. I feel like an idiot, here I am traipsing around New Orleans with you when I should be sitting on my cell waiting to hear from him.”
I am confused by so much, “First, who is Braxton Mimieux?”
“He’s the Fire Marshal’s son, we went to school together.”
The elevator finally arrives and we enter, she presses the button for Molly’s floor. I reach over to stop the dangling cage after it begins to move down.
“What are you doing?” She asks her eyes green and wide.
“What did he say?” We are face to face, eye to eye.
“Braxton said his dad has been trying to get up with me to give me his report on the fire at Scarlet Henri.” She is trying to read me for something.
“Did Braxton’s father happen to tell his son what the report said?” My tone seems aggravated.
She isn’t taken aback as if she has become accustomed to my mercurial nature, “Yes.” I wait patiently for her to continue but she is fidgeting with her fingers, “It wasn’t faulty wiring.” She says peeking up at me through lacquered lashes. I feel my face turn hard and so does she, “But he’s putting it in his report anyway. Insurance and all.”
“Wouldn’t he be falsifying the documentation?”
She takes a deep breath, “Thomas Mimieux and my father were best friends. They were volunteer firemen together before Tom became Marshal and my father….he is doing it to help me. My father had a big insurance policy on that building, Tom knows it will help me…” she pauses and I feel shame and regret rush through her.
“I know,” I grab her and pull her to me, she releases breathy sobs into my chest, the warm air from her mouth seeps through my shirt to my cold skin and I feel an electricity between us. I reach over and start the elevator again. The doors open on the third floor and standing in front of them is Frankie and Marcus. Who is as talkative as he was the first night I saw the small group of friends. I drop my arms around Babet and Frankie looks to us both before saying, “Uh-huh.” We exit and Marcus enters releasing Frankie’s tiny engulfed hand. She stands idle until we pass her by; she grabs Babet and kisses her cheek all the while keeping close eye on me.
“Frankie!” Marcus calls and his wife obediently enters the elevator.
The doors close and we are standing in front of Molly’s apartment. We enter and it’s much more disheveled than when we first arrived. I wait while Babet descends the staircase, returning with fast asleep Henri and groggy Scarlet. We are silent in the elevator and in the car.
We arrive back at Audubon and like a zombie Scarlet heads upstairs, her mother close behind her. Babet returns, having changed out of her party attire. The thin pair of pajama pants hang off her frame and the flimsy tank top doesn’t leave a lot to the imagination and I realize these are the clothes I met her in. Face to face, eye to eye. I detect a slight hint of smoke when she plops down on the couch beside me; the fire still resonating in the fabric.
She must be tossing her thoughts around, because she blurts out, “I will call Tom in the morning. I can meet up with him and get a copy of the report for the insurance adjuster.”
I nod, “Please don’t feel like you have to stay up and entertain me Babet. I know you’re tired.”
Her brow furrows and at the moment I can’t discern her emotions, “I want to talk about tonight.”
I try to keep the conversation lighthearted, “You’re friends are nice, I truly enjoyed meeting Molly…and Frankie.”
She scoffs and laughs, “Yeah, I’m sure I’ll be read the riot act tomorrow sometime…but that’s not what I meant, and you know it.”
I take a deep breath but she doesn’t allow me to begin, “I loved ...I love my husband and I miss him…I feel…but there is something about you, specifically, I can’t...whatever. I think of nothing all day but what’s happened and how I can pick up the pieces for me and my kids. I stress and I…I cry. Until you arrive. It all goes away.” I am utterly ecstatic at this revelation but I can feel there is more to come.
“I’m ashamed at how easily I forget the disappearance of my husband, the burning of my studio and the placement with complete yet astonishing strangers. Beautiful strangers. The dreams are too much to take sometimes but at the same time I feel…I feel like I am supposed to be here, with you.” She is chagrin but in her eyes I see something else, almost a flicker of confidence, like this is something she has wanted to say for a sometime.
I decide to divulge my deepest secret where Babet is concerned, “Aye,” I say and look deep into her, “I too feel it.”
Relief befalls her and I smile at the ease of her emotions but she is still pondering something, “You know you can stay downstairs if you want. Estella says it’s light tight even though your Queen has never stayed down there. I haven’t been down there. Honestly I’m kind of scared to go down there.” She says and laughs at her own ridiculousness.
“Would you like me to go down there with you?” I ask, teasing her.
She swats me and rolls her eyes, “No. I don’t need to go down there anyway. Thank God for the laundry facilities being upstairs. That is awesome, next house I buy I want my washer and dryer upstairs. Hmm?”
“Hmm?” I mirror her.
“I was just thinking about that, where to look for a new place. I like this townhouse and I’m sure I could find an open unit.” She laughs due to all the for sale signs in the neighborhood.
“Aye.” We both enjoy the joke and the easy turn the night has made, but I didn’t want to be rude and keep her waiting for an answer to her offer, “I appreciate your offer, my warehouse isn’t far, besides I don’t know how Estella, or the Queen for that matter would feel about me staying here during the day.”
Disappointment flows over her, “Oh, okay. Well, Estella said the Queen said it was her call, Estella said it was mine and I am offering if you are interested.” She says this very matter-of-factly.
Oh, Babet. If you only knew how truly interested I am, “I see, well…for tonight I will respectfully decline but if you will…allow me, tomorrow night?” I’m warily awaiting her reply.
“Sure. Tomorrow.” She is short with me as she rises from the couch, “You’re right, I am tired.” She turns to take the stairs, “See you tomorrow, and hey; feel free to come in from now on. You don’t need to knock.” She half smiles and I watch her until she is gone.
http://www.amazon.com/Revelations-Cia...
Oh Penelope...
“Don’t feel that way, please, and it is not as if I plant my own thoughts in your head, it doesn’t work that way Cian.
Believe me, it’s a curse I am forced to bear….” She began to trail off, when Estella chimed in.
“What do you mean, “your curse to bear”?” her tone accusing.
“When I did what I did, to you four, all that time ago….I broke the rules, so to speak.” Her tone became ominous as she seemed to drift to another place recollecting her spiritual punishment. She began to explain while in a deep trance the spirit high council convened, and upon her arrival she was forced to pay for her indiscretion. We all began to gain concerned composure as we watched her trance.
“I only want the one, please!” she shrilled, her eyes growing milky white, barely a trace of humanity behind them. She began to rise, her feet suspended above the floor, her arms stretched out as if she were being held on either side against her will, she began to flail before halting in the outstretched position, her head dropped and when she raised it again her face had become grotesquely rotted, her nose and eyes mere cavities on her face.
Her mouth lay open like a ring of spikes and demonically said, “Your punishment, Myra Elnora, is unbreakable communication with these beings. You are sentenced to eternal bondage, forever connected to your mistakes.” With the last word her head flew forward again and her body placed back to the floor beneath her.
Once the tension around us subsided from her punishing revelation her eyes began to clear and again the ice blue regained its place. She steadied her focus once more and began to explain, “You see, and that is the only time that has ever happened….” She trailed off once again, “Except….” And she retreated quickly from her table to the back of her tiny hovel, returning with a large book covered in dust. It was at least two inches thick and had a tarnished silver clasp holding the bindings. She unhooks the clasp and places the book on the table before us; we all crowd around the ancient tome.
“Here,” she says pointing to a date in the mid 1940’s halfway down the right side of the book, “I recorded this date because it’s the precise day and time I lost connection with Finn, who at the time had been in the middle of the Second World War. Prior to the cold jolt come over me, I heard muffled explosions. They grew louder as if the sound were chasing me and then nothing; I could no longer detect anything connected to him. I fear he may be dead.”
She stopped and looked into each of us, before stating what I was thinking, “There is no way he could have figured out how to break the connection, and if he had I would have known it long before, with him the connection was audible, I heard anything he said out loud.” Confused concern blanketed her deceivingly youthful face.
“So, I am confused, how are you connected to Keane and why didn’t you find him before this revelation?” Estella’s youth, once again showing her up.
“It was against everything I was supposed to stand for and I certainly couldn’t risk more retribution from the spiritual high council, I was in enough of a predicament with them as it was. But I knew he would come back to me, however long it took.” She explained beaming at Keane.
“So what was your “type” of connection with him?” Estella’s disrespect is mounting.
I hold a hand up to silence Estella turning to Myra, “What was he still doing in Germany? Finn?”
“In the beginning he chose battle in the field and the explosions at times was too much for even me to bear. The sounds of war are terribly unsettling, the screams, cries and rhythm of pure death, you know his thirst for war? He was residing in one of the many bunkers constructed along the French and German border and I suspect that is where he was prior to the jolt. Prior to that, though, he spent a vast amount of time freeing captives in the Dachau concentration camp, which he almost lost his life doing during a premeditated explosion. Those days he spoke intimately to himself, in turn to me. The casualties he encountered, speaking to himself of the horrible atrocities there. Asking himself why, how anyone could do this to their fellow man.”
Myra ignored Estella’s tone, continued her explanation, “As far as Keane, it was sexual.” She mutters it, as if embarrassed to speak the words. Keane’s mouth simply dropped before regaining his composure to voice his theory.
“So, every time I had sex with someone, you were aware?” he said leaning forward to only speak quietly to her. His head dropped forward in defeat as she confirmed his suspicions.
“Nice try Keane, fellow vampires, we can hear really well.” Estella boasted but Keane pays her no mind.
He lifted his head to meet Myra’s gaze and welling up in his eyes were light pink tears, “I’m sorry,” His voice cracking with each syllable.
“How could you know?” she said to him reassuringly, placing her hand atop his.
“Wait, so why sexual with Keane and intimate in a non-sexual way with the other two, wait, I thought you said there were four of you?” Estella still trying to wrap her head around the situation, this time her question lacked any sarcasm, she was genuinely interested.
“Yes, there were four of us,” I say to Estella before turning my attentions to Myra, “What connection do you have to Fallon?”
“Well the answer to your first question, I think Keane can explain to you at another time and the answer to your second is; Fallon is visual, I see what he sees. At the moment he is on his way into town…oh, in a very nice car and accompanied by a young blonde. She’s human, by the way.” She states matter-of-factly.
“Here? Fallon is on his way, here?” I am stunned, this all coming to a head.
“I know Cian, I am sorry, it’s a lot to take in, but know that I have always watched over you, shared your experiences, your lives….” I cut her off.
“Yes, but at what cost to you. We should have never….” She cuts me off.
“It was my choice and if I had to do it all over again, I would.” She speaks only to Keane now. He smiles at her in response. “Will you stay?”
“Of course, you can’t get rid of me now….you’re mine.” He said to her, his tone deviously seductive.
Myra smiles at Keane as if it’s the only the two of them in the room before Estella breaks the deafening silence between them; among us.
“I really hate to break this up,” she said and a loud scoff came from Myra’s direction, “but we came here with a problem, now we have more. We also need to find out when your friend Fallon will be in, the Queen will want to know of his arrival.” Estella is name-dropping for Myra’s sake.
“FUCK YOUR RIDICULOUSLY POMPOUS QUEEN! Utter her name in my dwelling again and relinquish your existence! You of all beings, Estella; know better.” Penelope chastises Estella who realizes her mistake.
“Apologies, I meant nothing by it, honestly….it’s just that….well we already have plenty of problems. Cian, please explain to her of our captive at the club.”
“Estella, were you not listening?” I say gingerly.
“He’s right and Cian, I am not familiar with it other than the ones from long ago. I understood they were wiped from existence, but clearly there has been a resurrection.” Myra is dangerously serious, “Watch it closely; it speaks which is not common with the creatures of legend. Use it to your advantage, it certainly is one. Let’s just hope the one that is out there is the only one.”
There is a silence among us until Estella brings up Fallon’s arrival, “And this friend of yours, Fallon?”
“He is just now pulling up to Cian’s front door.” Myra said to Estella before turning to meet my gaze. “Be careful of that “Queen” of yours, some of your suspicions are correct, protect yourself. You remember what I told you about her?”
I give her a nod and we all get to our feet, Estella and I head for the door as Keane takes a moment to bid farewell to Myra Elnora, “Until tonight, my sweet.” He kisses the insides of her hands prior to our departure.
“I’ll be waiting. Goodbye Estella, pleasure as always.” She gave us a friendly wave before morphing back into the ruse of Penelope.
Back aboard the small boat, Estella probed Keane, “So, spill. Why such an intimate connection to her compared to the others?”
His mood seemed solemn for Keane, the lighthearted one, “Because even after she requested our leave, I returned. You remember, Cian, I couldn’t take my eyes off her.”
“I remember the twins couldn’t either.” I say to him.
“Yes, I made sure they understood she was to be mine. And she was; we spent that following night together, your sister had already been safely placed with a family close to Myra, and Cian, I am sorry for never revealing that to you. I know you worried for your sister for years, and for that I am sorry brother. I suppose as far as Myra is concerned I made my bed there.”
I waved my hand to him, disregarding the revelation, “I knew my sister would be safe with the priestess, I made her swear a blood oath to protect Maggie.” And as I the word forms on my lips, Protect, I am reminded of Babet and the lateness of the hour.
“Estella, have you any message from Babet?” I ask worriedly.
“Yeah, we’ve been texting, well prior to all the revelations and what not.” Her tone is snide and unapologetic. “I should probably check in on her.”
“When was the last one you received from her?”
We are almost to the bank when Estella checks her cell, “Last one she responded to was twenty minutes ago.” She looks up at me, I can see and feel her fear rising.
“Get to Audubon.” She turns to run but I grab her arm, “Estella, be careful.”
She nods and is gone beyond the darkness of the swamp. Keane stands idle for my next move but he is impatient, “Why do you think Myra cannot involve herself in your human debacle?”
“I don’t know, but by the time we get back there she’ll have an explanation for us.” I say tapping my index finger on my temple.
“Fine with me,” Keane is obviously eager to return to Myra and he should be, given their time apart, “…but ditch the boat, yeah?”
“Aye, Estella hasn’t mastered flight yet.”
“Shame.” He smirks at me and I back at him before we hoist ourselves into the air and back through the dark swampy abyss.
Our feet hit Penelope’s pier simultaneously. The only light available is the amber illumination of the decrepit lantern hanging on the yard hook and in the distance the door to the hut swings open. Keane looks over at me, baring a bright white sharp smile, “She knows.” He laughs at his own dark humor.
We ascend the stairs and she has already morphed back to Myra knowing Keane is still with me. We enter and close the door; I stand silently, knowing she knows what I want to ask her.
“You can still be a gentleman and ask.” She says smiling.
“Of course. Why do you hesitate to assist us with Babet?” My hands clasped in front of me like a good little boy.
“You know how I feel about your “Queen”.” Her fingers make air quotes around Queen. I nod.
“Well I don’t, I know how the Icelandic clan feels about her, and I know how I feel about her….” Keane, boy I have missed Keane.
“As have I, Cian. As have I.” Myra smiles fondly at him.
“Okay, enough of the fucking mind-meld.” His frustration is increasing as he looks from Myra to me.
“I’m sorry, Keane. Cian was thinking how much he has missed you over the years and I was mirroring the sentiment. I realize this is going to take a lot of getting used to, I apologize.” She says and of course all is forgiven in Keane’s eyes.
“I know of her methods toward the immortal and supernatural community, making them register with her when they arrive into New Orleans, it’s disgusting how she flaunts her power and there is the key. She is more than powerful she is authoritative, but she’s not just a vampire. As human she was born into an ancient family of witches, a sect of her family was attacked off a country road in France, where her maker found her teetering on the edge of mortality. I can’t speculate on why her maker chose to save her but when he did he created another kind of monster. Her family blood, the witch blood, remained in her during her transformation giving her an extra benefit. Hence her control over you all in her presence, that ability is not for your kind, it’s for mine. Not realizing this he trained her in vampire arts, combat and etiquette.
“Etiquette?” Keane asks sarcastically.
“Yes, she came from less than savory origins, if she were to survive as a vampire she would have to succumb to elocution, and she did. She did everything he said, performed every task put before her and once he deemed her training complete she turned the tables on him, revealing the craft she had been born into which now resonated more powerful than ever. She nearly killed him.” Myra is intensely searching Keane and my eyes. I feel her seeking mine specifically because I am obviously more aware of Madliene’s abilities, “Exactly Cian, you know how dangerous she truly is.”
She had yet to answer my question about Babet, “The townhouse you have her residing in is wrapped so tight with enchantments, it would be of no use Cian. I’m sorry.” I am disappointed but not surprised.
“Linde said he watched her decapitate his brother in passing after their affair turned sour, he said she laid not a finger on him.” Keane reveals to Myra as I look on.
Myra begins to laugh and it’s a joyous sound, “No one talks like you two anymore; I miss the old country.” Myra’s reminiscence of our Scottish homeland silenced us all. I thought of the day we met her and she glanced up to smile at me, but returned her gaze to Keane who couldn’t take his eyes off her. She is first to break our shared inner turmoil, “Speaking of all things Scottish, Fallon is waiting and if I have to see his flashy wrist watch once more I am going to….hmm, never mind.” She smiles and we blow her door open with our exit, I look back as it slowly closes.
http://www.amazon.com/Revelations-Cia...
Believe me, it’s a curse I am forced to bear….” She began to trail off, when Estella chimed in.
“What do you mean, “your curse to bear”?” her tone accusing.
“When I did what I did, to you four, all that time ago….I broke the rules, so to speak.” Her tone became ominous as she seemed to drift to another place recollecting her spiritual punishment. She began to explain while in a deep trance the spirit high council convened, and upon her arrival she was forced to pay for her indiscretion. We all began to gain concerned composure as we watched her trance.
“I only want the one, please!” she shrilled, her eyes growing milky white, barely a trace of humanity behind them. She began to rise, her feet suspended above the floor, her arms stretched out as if she were being held on either side against her will, she began to flail before halting in the outstretched position, her head dropped and when she raised it again her face had become grotesquely rotted, her nose and eyes mere cavities on her face.
Her mouth lay open like a ring of spikes and demonically said, “Your punishment, Myra Elnora, is unbreakable communication with these beings. You are sentenced to eternal bondage, forever connected to your mistakes.” With the last word her head flew forward again and her body placed back to the floor beneath her.
Once the tension around us subsided from her punishing revelation her eyes began to clear and again the ice blue regained its place. She steadied her focus once more and began to explain, “You see, and that is the only time that has ever happened….” She trailed off once again, “Except….” And she retreated quickly from her table to the back of her tiny hovel, returning with a large book covered in dust. It was at least two inches thick and had a tarnished silver clasp holding the bindings. She unhooks the clasp and places the book on the table before us; we all crowd around the ancient tome.
“Here,” she says pointing to a date in the mid 1940’s halfway down the right side of the book, “I recorded this date because it’s the precise day and time I lost connection with Finn, who at the time had been in the middle of the Second World War. Prior to the cold jolt come over me, I heard muffled explosions. They grew louder as if the sound were chasing me and then nothing; I could no longer detect anything connected to him. I fear he may be dead.”
She stopped and looked into each of us, before stating what I was thinking, “There is no way he could have figured out how to break the connection, and if he had I would have known it long before, with him the connection was audible, I heard anything he said out loud.” Confused concern blanketed her deceivingly youthful face.
“So, I am confused, how are you connected to Keane and why didn’t you find him before this revelation?” Estella’s youth, once again showing her up.
“It was against everything I was supposed to stand for and I certainly couldn’t risk more retribution from the spiritual high council, I was in enough of a predicament with them as it was. But I knew he would come back to me, however long it took.” She explained beaming at Keane.
“So what was your “type” of connection with him?” Estella’s disrespect is mounting.
I hold a hand up to silence Estella turning to Myra, “What was he still doing in Germany? Finn?”
“In the beginning he chose battle in the field and the explosions at times was too much for even me to bear. The sounds of war are terribly unsettling, the screams, cries and rhythm of pure death, you know his thirst for war? He was residing in one of the many bunkers constructed along the French and German border and I suspect that is where he was prior to the jolt. Prior to that, though, he spent a vast amount of time freeing captives in the Dachau concentration camp, which he almost lost his life doing during a premeditated explosion. Those days he spoke intimately to himself, in turn to me. The casualties he encountered, speaking to himself of the horrible atrocities there. Asking himself why, how anyone could do this to their fellow man.”
Myra ignored Estella’s tone, continued her explanation, “As far as Keane, it was sexual.” She mutters it, as if embarrassed to speak the words. Keane’s mouth simply dropped before regaining his composure to voice his theory.
“So, every time I had sex with someone, you were aware?” he said leaning forward to only speak quietly to her. His head dropped forward in defeat as she confirmed his suspicions.
“Nice try Keane, fellow vampires, we can hear really well.” Estella boasted but Keane pays her no mind.
He lifted his head to meet Myra’s gaze and welling up in his eyes were light pink tears, “I’m sorry,” His voice cracking with each syllable.
“How could you know?” she said to him reassuringly, placing her hand atop his.
“Wait, so why sexual with Keane and intimate in a non-sexual way with the other two, wait, I thought you said there were four of you?” Estella still trying to wrap her head around the situation, this time her question lacked any sarcasm, she was genuinely interested.
“Yes, there were four of us,” I say to Estella before turning my attentions to Myra, “What connection do you have to Fallon?”
“Well the answer to your first question, I think Keane can explain to you at another time and the answer to your second is; Fallon is visual, I see what he sees. At the moment he is on his way into town…oh, in a very nice car and accompanied by a young blonde. She’s human, by the way.” She states matter-of-factly.
“Here? Fallon is on his way, here?” I am stunned, this all coming to a head.
“I know Cian, I am sorry, it’s a lot to take in, but know that I have always watched over you, shared your experiences, your lives….” I cut her off.
“Yes, but at what cost to you. We should have never….” She cuts me off.
“It was my choice and if I had to do it all over again, I would.” She speaks only to Keane now. He smiles at her in response. “Will you stay?”
“Of course, you can’t get rid of me now….you’re mine.” He said to her, his tone deviously seductive.
Myra smiles at Keane as if it’s the only the two of them in the room before Estella breaks the deafening silence between them; among us.
“I really hate to break this up,” she said and a loud scoff came from Myra’s direction, “but we came here with a problem, now we have more. We also need to find out when your friend Fallon will be in, the Queen will want to know of his arrival.” Estella is name-dropping for Myra’s sake.
“FUCK YOUR RIDICULOUSLY POMPOUS QUEEN! Utter her name in my dwelling again and relinquish your existence! You of all beings, Estella; know better.” Penelope chastises Estella who realizes her mistake.
“Apologies, I meant nothing by it, honestly….it’s just that….well we already have plenty of problems. Cian, please explain to her of our captive at the club.”
“Estella, were you not listening?” I say gingerly.
“He’s right and Cian, I am not familiar with it other than the ones from long ago. I understood they were wiped from existence, but clearly there has been a resurrection.” Myra is dangerously serious, “Watch it closely; it speaks which is not common with the creatures of legend. Use it to your advantage, it certainly is one. Let’s just hope the one that is out there is the only one.”
There is a silence among us until Estella brings up Fallon’s arrival, “And this friend of yours, Fallon?”
“He is just now pulling up to Cian’s front door.” Myra said to Estella before turning to meet my gaze. “Be careful of that “Queen” of yours, some of your suspicions are correct, protect yourself. You remember what I told you about her?”
I give her a nod and we all get to our feet, Estella and I head for the door as Keane takes a moment to bid farewell to Myra Elnora, “Until tonight, my sweet.” He kisses the insides of her hands prior to our departure.
“I’ll be waiting. Goodbye Estella, pleasure as always.” She gave us a friendly wave before morphing back into the ruse of Penelope.
Back aboard the small boat, Estella probed Keane, “So, spill. Why such an intimate connection to her compared to the others?”
His mood seemed solemn for Keane, the lighthearted one, “Because even after she requested our leave, I returned. You remember, Cian, I couldn’t take my eyes off her.”
“I remember the twins couldn’t either.” I say to him.
“Yes, I made sure they understood she was to be mine. And she was; we spent that following night together, your sister had already been safely placed with a family close to Myra, and Cian, I am sorry for never revealing that to you. I know you worried for your sister for years, and for that I am sorry brother. I suppose as far as Myra is concerned I made my bed there.”
I waved my hand to him, disregarding the revelation, “I knew my sister would be safe with the priestess, I made her swear a blood oath to protect Maggie.” And as I the word forms on my lips, Protect, I am reminded of Babet and the lateness of the hour.
“Estella, have you any message from Babet?” I ask worriedly.
“Yeah, we’ve been texting, well prior to all the revelations and what not.” Her tone is snide and unapologetic. “I should probably check in on her.”
“When was the last one you received from her?”
We are almost to the bank when Estella checks her cell, “Last one she responded to was twenty minutes ago.” She looks up at me, I can see and feel her fear rising.
“Get to Audubon.” She turns to run but I grab her arm, “Estella, be careful.”
She nods and is gone beyond the darkness of the swamp. Keane stands idle for my next move but he is impatient, “Why do you think Myra cannot involve herself in your human debacle?”
“I don’t know, but by the time we get back there she’ll have an explanation for us.” I say tapping my index finger on my temple.
“Fine with me,” Keane is obviously eager to return to Myra and he should be, given their time apart, “…but ditch the boat, yeah?”
“Aye, Estella hasn’t mastered flight yet.”
“Shame.” He smirks at me and I back at him before we hoist ourselves into the air and back through the dark swampy abyss.
Our feet hit Penelope’s pier simultaneously. The only light available is the amber illumination of the decrepit lantern hanging on the yard hook and in the distance the door to the hut swings open. Keane looks over at me, baring a bright white sharp smile, “She knows.” He laughs at his own dark humor.
We ascend the stairs and she has already morphed back to Myra knowing Keane is still with me. We enter and close the door; I stand silently, knowing she knows what I want to ask her.
“You can still be a gentleman and ask.” She says smiling.
“Of course. Why do you hesitate to assist us with Babet?” My hands clasped in front of me like a good little boy.
“You know how I feel about your “Queen”.” Her fingers make air quotes around Queen. I nod.
“Well I don’t, I know how the Icelandic clan feels about her, and I know how I feel about her….” Keane, boy I have missed Keane.
“As have I, Cian. As have I.” Myra smiles fondly at him.
“Okay, enough of the fucking mind-meld.” His frustration is increasing as he looks from Myra to me.
“I’m sorry, Keane. Cian was thinking how much he has missed you over the years and I was mirroring the sentiment. I realize this is going to take a lot of getting used to, I apologize.” She says and of course all is forgiven in Keane’s eyes.
“I know of her methods toward the immortal and supernatural community, making them register with her when they arrive into New Orleans, it’s disgusting how she flaunts her power and there is the key. She is more than powerful she is authoritative, but she’s not just a vampire. As human she was born into an ancient family of witches, a sect of her family was attacked off a country road in France, where her maker found her teetering on the edge of mortality. I can’t speculate on why her maker chose to save her but when he did he created another kind of monster. Her family blood, the witch blood, remained in her during her transformation giving her an extra benefit. Hence her control over you all in her presence, that ability is not for your kind, it’s for mine. Not realizing this he trained her in vampire arts, combat and etiquette.
“Etiquette?” Keane asks sarcastically.
“Yes, she came from less than savory origins, if she were to survive as a vampire she would have to succumb to elocution, and she did. She did everything he said, performed every task put before her and once he deemed her training complete she turned the tables on him, revealing the craft she had been born into which now resonated more powerful than ever. She nearly killed him.” Myra is intensely searching Keane and my eyes. I feel her seeking mine specifically because I am obviously more aware of Madliene’s abilities, “Exactly Cian, you know how dangerous she truly is.”
She had yet to answer my question about Babet, “The townhouse you have her residing in is wrapped so tight with enchantments, it would be of no use Cian. I’m sorry.” I am disappointed but not surprised.
“Linde said he watched her decapitate his brother in passing after their affair turned sour, he said she laid not a finger on him.” Keane reveals to Myra as I look on.
Myra begins to laugh and it’s a joyous sound, “No one talks like you two anymore; I miss the old country.” Myra’s reminiscence of our Scottish homeland silenced us all. I thought of the day we met her and she glanced up to smile at me, but returned her gaze to Keane who couldn’t take his eyes off her. She is first to break our shared inner turmoil, “Speaking of all things Scottish, Fallon is waiting and if I have to see his flashy wrist watch once more I am going to….hmm, never mind.” She smiles and we blow her door open with our exit, I look back as it slowly closes.
http://www.amazon.com/Revelations-Cia...
IT ALL COMES OUT...
I looked over my shoulder to find Estella’s face had hardened to stone, her eyes bearing into mine. I return to face Madliene, “I will kill them.” I say holding her gaze before my mind was taken by a flash of blood and tears, a pleading emotion coming from the intense image. I couldn’t escape the captivating and familiar face of a young pregnant woman being pulled into a hospital on a blood soaked gurney. I was then hit with the familiar smell of her blood, which became more than I could bear.
What followed was one of the most horrifying images I have ever been forced to endure. I was brought to my knees, but kept my grip on Romeo and Damien, and as there aren’t many times a vampire can cry, I felt the warmth flow from my cold eyes. In that moment the revelation of who this woman was, tore what little sliver of a heart I had left, or rebuilt since meeting Babet, out.
I was face to face with a young Brigitte Lancaster Beauregard, her trembling hand gripping the sticky gurney sheet, her words I cannot hear, but her emotion and fear I harbor pleading for my help. Why I was in the hospital that night, the purpose so lost and unclear to me. The next flash was the final blow, which made me call out for the Queen to stop her mind control.
“No more!” I yelled and I hear the sound of Romeo and Damien’s bodies hitting the floor followed by their combined gasps for life in their lungs. The two humans scurry away to the best of their ability. I rise to face her, Madliene sturdy as a mountain fails to budge. “Why?” I pleaded of her.
“Why indeed Cian,” she clasped her hands together in front of her, launching from the balcony, landing with a thud and began to circle me like the bloodthirsty shark she is. “Why were you there? Why were you so eager to heal a young, pregnant, Mrs. Brigitte Lancaster Beauregard? And most importantly, who would suggest such a terrible thing?”
Her overblown arrogance disgusted me and I could see Estella felt the same. I could feel the intimidation pouring from Madliene, but this time it wouldn’t work.
As I turned to face Madliene I was again, inundated with the vision of Brigitte Lancaster Beauregard’s face buried into my pulsing forearm. I feel my knees weaken yet again as my body felt heavier than it ever had. It had all come together in that moment, in Brigitte Lancaster Beauregard’s pleading eyes staring into mine and as her lips pushed harder into my arm’s cold flesh.
Those big pleading eyes began to roll into the back of her head before she released me from her grasp and fell back onto the gurney. Madliene’s voice broke through the image like a spear through the mist, “You see Cian, no matter what you do to protect her, she will eventually be one of us.” The tone of her voice went from accusing to humorous as she spoke her final words, “And you, dearest Cian have only yourself to blame.”
I hung my head, not comprehending what I had done, why I had done it, or even, why, I was there. My mind was spinning when I heard the heavily cockney voice of a tall Englishman and a face I have only seen in pictures, enter the club. I turn to see him stroll into Morte’ like the devil come courting. An arrogance about him, without question or fear of what he was interrupting and as I turned from the voice of the Englishman I noticed that the arrogance and intimidation of our Queen was diminished as if he were pulling her emotions from her.
“Not entirely yourself to blame. Cian, is it?” he said as he glided over to shake my hand, “Alistair, is my name. Though I don’t need to introduce myself to you do I, Queen Madliene?” The volume of his voice became quiet as he turned to her, taking her delicately deadly hand in his, kissing it gently, and smiling as he met her gaze. Our Queen was speechless, fear had taken over her aura and she seemed to be almost shrinking inside, our powerfully fearless mistress was becoming what resembled a shattered and naive child as if she had been caught by her father in her mother’s lingerie. We could all feel it emoting from her being.
I turn to see Estella’s stance soften, her hands relaxing from their claw like shape. Her face almost relieved to cast her eyes upon Alistair and Angelique who appeared at his side. For the first time tonight Madliene looked worried.
Through the haven doors Xavier and Keane walking almost hand in hand their bodies so close as they approached the situation, a small smirk cross Keane’s face as he and Xavier parted to reveal Babet.
Alive, unharmed on her own feet smiling when she saw and crossed the floor to me, though the closer she got to me I could smell blood on her. I took her in my arms and held her there, taking in all her senses taking me in. Her grasp on my waist as her head rested perfectly in my chest was more relief than I have ever felt from a human, even from my sister when we escaped with our lives hundreds of years ago.
I felt Babet take a deep breath as she burrowed herself deeper and deeper into me, I put my face against her glorious cherry hair and stole my own moment with the scent of her. Eventually, it was obvious that we weren't alone and the entire room was witnessing this personal experience between us, but neither of us cared, just content with the knowledge that the other was safe. For now.
I pull her from me to examine her stained dark blue shirt, “Whose blood is this?” I say to her and only her. She doesn't answer me, just shaking her head and closing her eyes before burying back into my chest.
Alistair was here no doubt to exact some sort of revenge on Madliene and considering the reaction of the proper sides, I was confident that in her absence Angelique had been successful in her mission to find some sort of origin on the soon to be dowager Queen. Even though Alistair had been able to hold Madliene, she wouldn't go down, so to speak without a fight. My thoughts were interrupted by their prolonged completion. Alistair had the ability to read one’s mind and his skills were old and tuned to perfection, “It won’t come to that, Cian….I promise,” All this he said staring into Madliene, never looking at me once, “Will it, dear?”
Madliene said nothing at first, stood as still as the ancient statue she is, Sophia a zombie by her side, Alistair continued to circle her and then pace from each group of us before standing again beside Angelique. We all kept our positions as he continued, “You see, Cian, everyone, this was our last straw; our backs are, broken. Your human…” his voice turned disgusted at the word, “…was never to be involved in our world.”
Angelique fades from Alistair’s side, appearing beside Sophia. She leads the girl away from Madliene who doesn't dare protest. Once Sophia and Angelique are out of site beyond the haven doors Alistair states, “There, that’s better. Sweet Angelique just wanted her sister back; it was all the payment she required for her information regarding this establishment and all of you. Now…”
Alistair continued, explaining that the night I was met with Brigitte Lancaster Beauregard and her unborn fetus, Madliene sent me to the hospital to investigate the found victim of a former member of our family, Razmus. His victim had been drained but not extinguished and the man was still able to communicate, so much so that he was able to identify Razmus; down to the color of his boots.
This of course made the Queen and others very nervous, being who I am I was the natural choice to determine whether or not this man should live and Razmus die or as it went, both. On my exit of the hospital is where I would encounter Babet’s mother. Upon her arrival, it is explained to me, that, not only healing her affected my memory, but Madliene had the entire accord completely wiped from my mind.
Thessaly, who was employed during the 3rd shift at the hospital, tipped the doctor of my ability to help the dying mother. During the conversation with the doctor regarding the possibility of my assistance, which I originally refused to abide. I allowed Brigitte Lancaster Beauregard to penetrate my shield and with her pleadingly beautiful eyes hooked my soul, I obliged. Thessaly, also connected to Madliene, hell, we all are, aren't we, made her aware of the situation, gaining permission to the tip off to who I was. Thessaly’s payment was her neutrality; Madliene would never again request Thessaly’s violent assistance. But why? Why? WHY!? I feel like a child.
“The reason Madliene gave such permission, knowing what she was engaging in?” Alistair stated rather loudly and boisterously before turning to face Estella, “Because of her distaste for her maker, which is how she obtained you, sweet Estella. For years Madliene has hunted those close to her maker, her attempts to hurt him and take from him what he took from her.”, Alistair began to pace yet again, “Estella, tell me, around what year did you get notification of a positive identification of your human family from Madliene?” Estella said nothing, just stared at Alistair, when she seemed to have a glimpse of that time, her brow furrowed and then her eyes slightly widened. At this, Alistair just nodded and paced once again, “That’s what I thought.”
“Was this your master plan, my dear, to obtain the human ties of your maker to form the vampire family you so desperately need.” Madliene’s face met Alistair’s, her lips parted and she spoke for the first time since his arrival. He glances around to each of us.
“Please. Alistair. Don’t.” her tone is weak like a chastised child.
He turns to face her, his fierce blue eyes penetrating her, “It’s too late my dear.”
Flannaghan enters, we are all distracted for a moment and that is all it takes for Madliene to make a move, she is like lightning snatching Babet from my arms, spinning her. Babet is attached to Madliene’s front, pulling Babet from the group, “I am going to do to her what her father did to me! And it won’t take long. Will it darling,” She is stroking Babet’s face with her bone finger, “All I have to do is stop her heart and she will be one of us. Cian, isn’t that what you want, I know it’s what he wants.” She is using my monster as defense, albeit a poor one.
Babet is not letting this small detail she has learned die, “My father is dead.”
She says her voice faltering under Madliene’s grasp.
Madliene cackles, “You’re half right.”
http://www.amazon.com/Revelations-Cia...
What followed was one of the most horrifying images I have ever been forced to endure. I was brought to my knees, but kept my grip on Romeo and Damien, and as there aren’t many times a vampire can cry, I felt the warmth flow from my cold eyes. In that moment the revelation of who this woman was, tore what little sliver of a heart I had left, or rebuilt since meeting Babet, out.
I was face to face with a young Brigitte Lancaster Beauregard, her trembling hand gripping the sticky gurney sheet, her words I cannot hear, but her emotion and fear I harbor pleading for my help. Why I was in the hospital that night, the purpose so lost and unclear to me. The next flash was the final blow, which made me call out for the Queen to stop her mind control.
“No more!” I yelled and I hear the sound of Romeo and Damien’s bodies hitting the floor followed by their combined gasps for life in their lungs. The two humans scurry away to the best of their ability. I rise to face her, Madliene sturdy as a mountain fails to budge. “Why?” I pleaded of her.
“Why indeed Cian,” she clasped her hands together in front of her, launching from the balcony, landing with a thud and began to circle me like the bloodthirsty shark she is. “Why were you there? Why were you so eager to heal a young, pregnant, Mrs. Brigitte Lancaster Beauregard? And most importantly, who would suggest such a terrible thing?”
Her overblown arrogance disgusted me and I could see Estella felt the same. I could feel the intimidation pouring from Madliene, but this time it wouldn’t work.
As I turned to face Madliene I was again, inundated with the vision of Brigitte Lancaster Beauregard’s face buried into my pulsing forearm. I feel my knees weaken yet again as my body felt heavier than it ever had. It had all come together in that moment, in Brigitte Lancaster Beauregard’s pleading eyes staring into mine and as her lips pushed harder into my arm’s cold flesh.
Those big pleading eyes began to roll into the back of her head before she released me from her grasp and fell back onto the gurney. Madliene’s voice broke through the image like a spear through the mist, “You see Cian, no matter what you do to protect her, she will eventually be one of us.” The tone of her voice went from accusing to humorous as she spoke her final words, “And you, dearest Cian have only yourself to blame.”
I hung my head, not comprehending what I had done, why I had done it, or even, why, I was there. My mind was spinning when I heard the heavily cockney voice of a tall Englishman and a face I have only seen in pictures, enter the club. I turn to see him stroll into Morte’ like the devil come courting. An arrogance about him, without question or fear of what he was interrupting and as I turned from the voice of the Englishman I noticed that the arrogance and intimidation of our Queen was diminished as if he were pulling her emotions from her.
“Not entirely yourself to blame. Cian, is it?” he said as he glided over to shake my hand, “Alistair, is my name. Though I don’t need to introduce myself to you do I, Queen Madliene?” The volume of his voice became quiet as he turned to her, taking her delicately deadly hand in his, kissing it gently, and smiling as he met her gaze. Our Queen was speechless, fear had taken over her aura and she seemed to be almost shrinking inside, our powerfully fearless mistress was becoming what resembled a shattered and naive child as if she had been caught by her father in her mother’s lingerie. We could all feel it emoting from her being.
I turn to see Estella’s stance soften, her hands relaxing from their claw like shape. Her face almost relieved to cast her eyes upon Alistair and Angelique who appeared at his side. For the first time tonight Madliene looked worried.
Through the haven doors Xavier and Keane walking almost hand in hand their bodies so close as they approached the situation, a small smirk cross Keane’s face as he and Xavier parted to reveal Babet.
Alive, unharmed on her own feet smiling when she saw and crossed the floor to me, though the closer she got to me I could smell blood on her. I took her in my arms and held her there, taking in all her senses taking me in. Her grasp on my waist as her head rested perfectly in my chest was more relief than I have ever felt from a human, even from my sister when we escaped with our lives hundreds of years ago.
I felt Babet take a deep breath as she burrowed herself deeper and deeper into me, I put my face against her glorious cherry hair and stole my own moment with the scent of her. Eventually, it was obvious that we weren't alone and the entire room was witnessing this personal experience between us, but neither of us cared, just content with the knowledge that the other was safe. For now.
I pull her from me to examine her stained dark blue shirt, “Whose blood is this?” I say to her and only her. She doesn't answer me, just shaking her head and closing her eyes before burying back into my chest.
Alistair was here no doubt to exact some sort of revenge on Madliene and considering the reaction of the proper sides, I was confident that in her absence Angelique had been successful in her mission to find some sort of origin on the soon to be dowager Queen. Even though Alistair had been able to hold Madliene, she wouldn't go down, so to speak without a fight. My thoughts were interrupted by their prolonged completion. Alistair had the ability to read one’s mind and his skills were old and tuned to perfection, “It won’t come to that, Cian….I promise,” All this he said staring into Madliene, never looking at me once, “Will it, dear?”
Madliene said nothing at first, stood as still as the ancient statue she is, Sophia a zombie by her side, Alistair continued to circle her and then pace from each group of us before standing again beside Angelique. We all kept our positions as he continued, “You see, Cian, everyone, this was our last straw; our backs are, broken. Your human…” his voice turned disgusted at the word, “…was never to be involved in our world.”
Angelique fades from Alistair’s side, appearing beside Sophia. She leads the girl away from Madliene who doesn't dare protest. Once Sophia and Angelique are out of site beyond the haven doors Alistair states, “There, that’s better. Sweet Angelique just wanted her sister back; it was all the payment she required for her information regarding this establishment and all of you. Now…”
Alistair continued, explaining that the night I was met with Brigitte Lancaster Beauregard and her unborn fetus, Madliene sent me to the hospital to investigate the found victim of a former member of our family, Razmus. His victim had been drained but not extinguished and the man was still able to communicate, so much so that he was able to identify Razmus; down to the color of his boots.
This of course made the Queen and others very nervous, being who I am I was the natural choice to determine whether or not this man should live and Razmus die or as it went, both. On my exit of the hospital is where I would encounter Babet’s mother. Upon her arrival, it is explained to me, that, not only healing her affected my memory, but Madliene had the entire accord completely wiped from my mind.
Thessaly, who was employed during the 3rd shift at the hospital, tipped the doctor of my ability to help the dying mother. During the conversation with the doctor regarding the possibility of my assistance, which I originally refused to abide. I allowed Brigitte Lancaster Beauregard to penetrate my shield and with her pleadingly beautiful eyes hooked my soul, I obliged. Thessaly, also connected to Madliene, hell, we all are, aren't we, made her aware of the situation, gaining permission to the tip off to who I was. Thessaly’s payment was her neutrality; Madliene would never again request Thessaly’s violent assistance. But why? Why? WHY!? I feel like a child.
“The reason Madliene gave such permission, knowing what she was engaging in?” Alistair stated rather loudly and boisterously before turning to face Estella, “Because of her distaste for her maker, which is how she obtained you, sweet Estella. For years Madliene has hunted those close to her maker, her attempts to hurt him and take from him what he took from her.”, Alistair began to pace yet again, “Estella, tell me, around what year did you get notification of a positive identification of your human family from Madliene?” Estella said nothing, just stared at Alistair, when she seemed to have a glimpse of that time, her brow furrowed and then her eyes slightly widened. At this, Alistair just nodded and paced once again, “That’s what I thought.”
“Was this your master plan, my dear, to obtain the human ties of your maker to form the vampire family you so desperately need.” Madliene’s face met Alistair’s, her lips parted and she spoke for the first time since his arrival. He glances around to each of us.
“Please. Alistair. Don’t.” her tone is weak like a chastised child.
He turns to face her, his fierce blue eyes penetrating her, “It’s too late my dear.”
Flannaghan enters, we are all distracted for a moment and that is all it takes for Madliene to make a move, she is like lightning snatching Babet from my arms, spinning her. Babet is attached to Madliene’s front, pulling Babet from the group, “I am going to do to her what her father did to me! And it won’t take long. Will it darling,” She is stroking Babet’s face with her bone finger, “All I have to do is stop her heart and she will be one of us. Cian, isn’t that what you want, I know it’s what he wants.” She is using my monster as defense, albeit a poor one.
Babet is not letting this small detail she has learned die, “My father is dead.”
She says her voice faltering under Madliene’s grasp.
Madliene cackles, “You’re half right.”
http://www.amazon.com/Revelations-Cia...
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