Augusta Fern's Blog - Posts Tagged "loyalty"
Reunion of Brothers...meanwhile back at the club
At the sound of those words I turned hard and remorseful as he and I assisted in some extremely horrid acts during that time. He sensed this in me and apologized, requesting that I proceed with my inquiry. I resumed my seat, with Keane I never want to seem like a detective overworking a homicide case, but Babet was my greatest concern and I needed to know that he wasn’t a part of the extinction of her family in an attempt to make her vampire property.
I had to choose my words carefully, Keane was my brother and even though we had fallen out of touch over the years I had a great deal of respect and love for him. But the words came harshly and accusingly no matter how hard I tried to suppress it.
“Why are you here Keane?” My face a stone wall as I asked, shifting in my chair. He wove his fingers into each other in front of his chest, his elbows resting on the arms of his chair; his outlook indifferent as he searched for a response.
“She said you would do this and I told her there was no way my brother would question my arrival, but here you are. Just like she said.” His final sentence sounding hurt that I would find malice in anything Keane would do. “She really has you vexed, huh?” The question rattled around in my mind, which “she” is he referring to, Madliene or Babet?
I remain quiet as he had yet to answer my question. He shifted forward in his seat and lowered his hands, “I was here with the Icelandic clan, because I’ve been working with Linde for the past fifty years. After Madliene’s meeting with him she asked that I stop by the club before I left town. The Queen requested my presence Cian. I haven’t been briefed as to why, but upon my arrival I requested to meet with you before she had a chance to fill me with lies.” He laughed and leaned back in his chair.
I stared at him not understanding his meaning. I am aware of our Queen’s ways and occasionally all the facts are not present during her briefings. She will provide what she deems necessary information to obtain her goals, but she tends to fail in explaining the minor details that could cause immortal and mortal casualties alike.
I have witnessed that injustice too many times to count. With our Queen remarking, “you have to break a few eggs, don’t you.” Many vampires employed by the Queen have met their fate or final death due to her lack of attention to detail.
“I thought you of all people would respect that, that our relationship is thicker, stronger than her.” Keane said interrupting my thoughts, his sea blue eyes penetrating my hollow interior.
“I am sorry, brother. It’s been so long and I…..I am so different these days. I feel like I’ve lost myself along the way working for the Monarchy. Just…how much do you know?”
“Not much,” his hand went up and his shoulders shrugged, “ She did mentioned the situation regarding a local human and the picking off of the family, that New Orleans has had an influx of unregistered vampires. Also, she required another skilled “warrior””, his fingers making air quotes, “her term by the way, to work the bounties and on occasion opposite of you at the club. What I don’t know is why this human is so important to her, for one. Secondly who are the unregistered vamps and why are there so many. And third, why are you not able to fulfill your obligations to our most gracious Queen?” His tone became sarcastic, rolling his blue eyes and with his final words he folded his arms across his chest.
I took a deep breath and began to explain Babet, how she is related to us and our kind and why we are exposing ourselves to help her. I kept the fact that I had virtually stalked her for days prior to learning of her identity and her connection to Estella hidden from Keane. Keane knew Estella in passing and a brief history in her making, but that was all he knew of her. I explained the painstaking we had endured to keep the woman and her two children safe.
The word “children” invoked a reaction in Keane I hadn’t seen since we were in the priestess’ hut long ago in Scotland. A look of sympathy crossed his face and I knew that he would be a great ally for Babet. I continued that I wasn’t absolute regarding the influx, but I had suspicion that it might be Alistair and Flannaghan from the Queen’s New York days come to exact their revenge for her actions against them so many years ago. But I had no hard or current evidence to implicate them or any indication of their whereabouts. All of these elements add up to explain my recent absence at the club, but due to Keane’s intelligence he had already deduced that I was spending my off hours with Babet by more than just a request of the Queen. “Whose relation is the human?” Damn Keane, doesn’t miss a beat.
“Estella’s.” Then Keane said something that piqued interest in my own actions.
“Then let me ask you Cian, is it the Queen keeping you babysitting the human or are you doing it as a favor to Estella?” he said leering at me.
The answer to this question was a complicated one. If I was honest with him I would tell him that it is my own obsession that keeps me at Babet’s four nights a week but this information in Keane’s mind would be one of danger. He would advise me to stay away from the human, leaving Estella to clean up her own family’s mess but the hero in him would suggest otherwise. He continued to leer at me as I had done him when I thought he hadn’t been forthcoming with me. At that moment I decided to keep the answer simple and what would seem predictable in Keane’s mind.
“I do this because it was requested of me by our Queen.” The words sounded submissive in my head. “But the way I continue to protect her, is favor to Estella.” And I looked right at him waiting for a reply.
He gathered himself and took a deep breath.“You have definitely changed, brother.” His tone was one of disappointment as though I had purposely defied him in some great endeavor.
“Listen, I know you have a thing for Estella; the Queen did tell me that much, that she feels the obsession with Estella is overwhelming you, hindering your abilities.” His factual accusations enraged me.
I felt the need to defend myself, but I kept my calm and allowed him to continue. Keane had an outstanding ability to see realities for what they were and I was no different in his eyes. He continued rattling off the Queen’s comments until finally he stopped and retracted, “But I know you brother”, he became extremely serious; “I know that you cannot be this wound up in her politics that you can’t see what she is doing.” I sat back in my seat as he spoke, realizing how correct his assessment was.
I used to be less willing to please, I used to be one who scrutinizes, but what he didn’t know was the real reasons behind my actions, unless he did and he was waiting for me to confess. It was a true thing; I had spent too much time away from my brother. If I confessed the proverbial beans would be spilled and I couldn’t have Keane thinking any less of me than he did at this moment. I smiled at him and told him I wanted to introduce him to someone. He remarked, “This isn’t over, Cian.”
“Understood.” I stated factually. I stood from my seat and Keane’s eyes followed as I crossed the receiving room toward the front door.
“Where are you off to now, brother?” Keane’s voice echoed the cathedral ceiling as the door closed behind me. I wasn’t two steps from the door before it opened again, “Cian!?”
“Meet me at back at Morte’ in an hour.” I called back to him as I vanished into the thick evening air. I had to stop by my warehouse for a change of attire and possible weapon collection.
Inside Morte’ the deep bass of Deftones’ “Passenger” thumped through the unseen house speakers as the confidence of all in attendance was palpable; I received more than a few looks from the female humans in the club as I crested the threshold and took a big whiff of the bouquet before me.
And it occurred to me to be strange that human was the only scent I detected tonight and from the expression on Sophia’s face I was not as well informed as I should be. Being the only male vampire present I was propositioned by more than enough women looking for a thrill, the walk from the front door of Morte’ to the bar where Sophia stood nervously behind, was not all that long.
My declination to their offers appeared to be taken a multitude of ways. Some mortified by even the approach, others angered, I could also detect hints of jealousy, sadness and depression. Human emotion is not one of the aspects of my former mortality I long for, and until I became aware of Babet’s existence, I was free of them.
I reached the bar just as the music shifted from Deftones to Lords of Acid, “Rough Sex”; Sophia quickly disappeared behind it, before reappearing a second later. In her hand and around her fingers was a set of iron “brass” knuckles.
I nodded toward them as Sophia spoke, “Before you ask, we have a major problem”, she said as she adjusted her breasts to place a tiny dagger between them. She raised her head and met my gaze, her brown eyes flickering with hints of hazel, she was worried. Her thick black hair had been straightened and at the right angle a sheer of raven blue engulfed it. She placed her hair carefully not to reveal the handle of the dagger and her olive skin radiated beautifully through her black lace tunic, whose flared sleeves concealed the iron knuckles. She stepped out from the bar to escort me to the haven doors.
Her platform heels clicking across the floor attracting a little more attention than anticipated and the closer we came to the doors a human mob began to descend; Sophia’s eyes were more intense than I have ever seen them, including her birth into darkness. I clutched my arm around her waist and flashed through the haven doors, slamming them behind us. I turned to face the young vampire, clasping my hands to both her shoulders, “Sophia, calm.”
Her eyes stared directly into mine; intensifying once more before sullying slowly back to a darker hazel. She took a deep breath, closing her eyes. I knew that the smell was overwhelming and she must have some order from the Queen to remain from the feed, but for a younger vampire that is a tall order. Sophia hasn’t had enough time nor the opportunity to hone such skills, being a speck under the Queen’s thumb is tiring and lacks education.
The Queen has been making ones like Sophia for centuries. She will break free like all the others, but it takes cunning among age and anger. For the time being Sophia is a slave to the Queen. I knew that the attempt to probe Sophia for knowledge would be futile, she knew this as well and said, “Go to Estella.”
Nodding in the direction of Estella’s haven door, the inclination that she wasn’t going to explain tonight’s strange happenings, was apparent. Making my way down the stone corridor toward Estella’s door I stopped short just before entering, staring at the beautifully carved barrier between me and my once obsession.
Before I had a chance to reach for the handle, the door flew open, Estella had been preparing for tonight and had just come from a warm bath. I could feel the heat from the water radiate off her cold skin and smell the luxuriousness of her bath salts. Her hair piled on top of her head in what looked like chopsticks sticking out of the sides. She waved her hand to invite me in and once I returned my gaze to her face, I could see she was slightly perturbed by my lack of focus.
I apologized and entered her chamber, “Sorry.”
“No problem, I understand better tha….” She trailed off, as the sentiment would of course be lost on me, “sit.” She said as she readjusted her wrap, turning from me to go behind the dressing screen in the corner of her chamber cell. “So, as I am sure you’ve heard, we are on high alert tonight.”
“Yes, I gathered that from Sophia’s demeanor.”
“Before I go into that, you should know, I spoke with Babet, she is taking the kids to dinner and a movie tonight, I told her to touch base with me when the movie was over...” she trailed off to administer some piece of clothing and I could make out the voluptuous silhouette her body made as she removed the sticks from her hair, cascading down her back hitting the base of her spine as it fell. She bent down putting her feet inside of a pair of shorts, pulling them up securing the suspenders accompanying them, arcing her back as she did up the buttons until she suddenly stopped, craning her head around the screen, “Figures” she said as she rolled her eyes at me.
“I am still a man, Estella.” I explained sarcastically before rising from my seat.
“Yes.” Estella being Estella, wrapped her leg around the edge of the dressing screen, her foot encased in a blue and white platform heel resembling a child’s saddle shoe, pointed so that her toe graced the floor slightly, she placed the foot and then spun the rest of her body out from the dressing screen, in true stripper fashion and I couldn’t help but smile slyly before laughing heartily as she continued.
The shorts were high waist and looked like Navy sailor pants. Estella was going for a 1940’s look tonight. While behind the screen she had pinned her hair back on both sides and it had formed tight curls while up. She was gloriously beautiful as she always was, and asked her how she got to be so. She walked over to me, placing her hand on my chest.
“Thank you Cian, I can always count on you.” Her smile through bright red lips was intoxicating.
“Don’t forget it, ok?” I said brushing the back of my hand against her face.
“So?” We stood looking at each other for a moment, when Estella regained her train of thought. I turned to take my seat again.
“Sorry, just….thinking. So yes, earlier today I awoke to find Morte’ blazing with mortal life, even the halls of the haven were permeated with the scent of human blood. I opened my door to see why Madliene was already allowing patrons, when it slammed closed before me.” She sat next to me on the 18th century tufted couch. “Xavier had slipped into my chamber before the door closed and before I knew it he was between me and the door, he then spun me around and slammed me against it. He shot both arms up to block my exit, of course I was frustrated with his games and I guess he saw that, because he lowered his arms. I stood there with my arms crossed waiting for an explanation. He gave up his little ruse, explaining that the creature Madliene had been hunting on behalf of Babet is here, the bait, out there…long story short, we’re trapping an “animal” tonight. What led it here? Uh yeah, look around.”
None of it made sense, to Estella this was something Xavier was a part of, but Xavier being Xavier, it was too easy to assume he was even capable of concocting this without some sort of assistance. It could be the new arrivals, Alistair and Flannaghan were said to be roaming our city streets and I couldn’t discredit the fact that the recent arrival of an old friend of mine had been extremely disturbing. It has to go deeper, it’s just too easy. I caught Estella glaring at me as I pondered this new development. “So what’s her plan, then?”
“That’s the kicker, Cian….I don’t know.” Estella paced for a moment, and then stopped short. “What time is it?”
Being that there are no visible restraints of time on us vampires, there is still the dreaded “day” job, go figure. Estella was almost late for hers, and from the looks of it she was okay with that possibility. Why would she want to go out into the lion’s den, so to speak? The ravenous human females just yearning for their vampire fix, be it male or female. Tonight our species was the minority, and that thought sparked the illusive light bulb.
“Estella, why keep out the other vampires, the patrons?” She turned to me inquisitively, squinted her eyes and furrowing her brow, a stern line crossed her lips.
“Exactly. Why the “feast” when there are no feasters?” She grabbed her clutch bag, which of course matched her little outfit, and began for the door, “You coming?”
“Yeah, just taking in the view.” I smiled and gave her one more look over. She smiled and held the door for me to pass and once the latch closed I headed toward the haven doors to Morte’ Estella not far behind. Up the spiral stone staircase and out through the archway, the doors to Morte’ were a heavy sort for obvious reasons, there is way no way in hell a human could open them, not even Mr. Universe. The music changed from dance-techno sex to A Perfect Circle and at the moment, “The Outsider” played gloriously.
A swift push from both Estella and I the door flew open like we were making a grand entrance to a performance. The club had gained an enormous number, fortunately human males mingled in with the ravenous females, but as far as both Estella and I could tell no fellow vampires in attendance tonight.
http://www.amazon.com/Revelations-Cia...
I had to choose my words carefully, Keane was my brother and even though we had fallen out of touch over the years I had a great deal of respect and love for him. But the words came harshly and accusingly no matter how hard I tried to suppress it.
“Why are you here Keane?” My face a stone wall as I asked, shifting in my chair. He wove his fingers into each other in front of his chest, his elbows resting on the arms of his chair; his outlook indifferent as he searched for a response.
“She said you would do this and I told her there was no way my brother would question my arrival, but here you are. Just like she said.” His final sentence sounding hurt that I would find malice in anything Keane would do. “She really has you vexed, huh?” The question rattled around in my mind, which “she” is he referring to, Madliene or Babet?
I remain quiet as he had yet to answer my question. He shifted forward in his seat and lowered his hands, “I was here with the Icelandic clan, because I’ve been working with Linde for the past fifty years. After Madliene’s meeting with him she asked that I stop by the club before I left town. The Queen requested my presence Cian. I haven’t been briefed as to why, but upon my arrival I requested to meet with you before she had a chance to fill me with lies.” He laughed and leaned back in his chair.
I stared at him not understanding his meaning. I am aware of our Queen’s ways and occasionally all the facts are not present during her briefings. She will provide what she deems necessary information to obtain her goals, but she tends to fail in explaining the minor details that could cause immortal and mortal casualties alike.
I have witnessed that injustice too many times to count. With our Queen remarking, “you have to break a few eggs, don’t you.” Many vampires employed by the Queen have met their fate or final death due to her lack of attention to detail.
“I thought you of all people would respect that, that our relationship is thicker, stronger than her.” Keane said interrupting my thoughts, his sea blue eyes penetrating my hollow interior.
“I am sorry, brother. It’s been so long and I…..I am so different these days. I feel like I’ve lost myself along the way working for the Monarchy. Just…how much do you know?”
“Not much,” his hand went up and his shoulders shrugged, “ She did mentioned the situation regarding a local human and the picking off of the family, that New Orleans has had an influx of unregistered vampires. Also, she required another skilled “warrior””, his fingers making air quotes, “her term by the way, to work the bounties and on occasion opposite of you at the club. What I don’t know is why this human is so important to her, for one. Secondly who are the unregistered vamps and why are there so many. And third, why are you not able to fulfill your obligations to our most gracious Queen?” His tone became sarcastic, rolling his blue eyes and with his final words he folded his arms across his chest.
I took a deep breath and began to explain Babet, how she is related to us and our kind and why we are exposing ourselves to help her. I kept the fact that I had virtually stalked her for days prior to learning of her identity and her connection to Estella hidden from Keane. Keane knew Estella in passing and a brief history in her making, but that was all he knew of her. I explained the painstaking we had endured to keep the woman and her two children safe.
The word “children” invoked a reaction in Keane I hadn’t seen since we were in the priestess’ hut long ago in Scotland. A look of sympathy crossed his face and I knew that he would be a great ally for Babet. I continued that I wasn’t absolute regarding the influx, but I had suspicion that it might be Alistair and Flannaghan from the Queen’s New York days come to exact their revenge for her actions against them so many years ago. But I had no hard or current evidence to implicate them or any indication of their whereabouts. All of these elements add up to explain my recent absence at the club, but due to Keane’s intelligence he had already deduced that I was spending my off hours with Babet by more than just a request of the Queen. “Whose relation is the human?” Damn Keane, doesn’t miss a beat.
“Estella’s.” Then Keane said something that piqued interest in my own actions.
“Then let me ask you Cian, is it the Queen keeping you babysitting the human or are you doing it as a favor to Estella?” he said leering at me.
The answer to this question was a complicated one. If I was honest with him I would tell him that it is my own obsession that keeps me at Babet’s four nights a week but this information in Keane’s mind would be one of danger. He would advise me to stay away from the human, leaving Estella to clean up her own family’s mess but the hero in him would suggest otherwise. He continued to leer at me as I had done him when I thought he hadn’t been forthcoming with me. At that moment I decided to keep the answer simple and what would seem predictable in Keane’s mind.
“I do this because it was requested of me by our Queen.” The words sounded submissive in my head. “But the way I continue to protect her, is favor to Estella.” And I looked right at him waiting for a reply.
He gathered himself and took a deep breath.“You have definitely changed, brother.” His tone was one of disappointment as though I had purposely defied him in some great endeavor.
“Listen, I know you have a thing for Estella; the Queen did tell me that much, that she feels the obsession with Estella is overwhelming you, hindering your abilities.” His factual accusations enraged me.
I felt the need to defend myself, but I kept my calm and allowed him to continue. Keane had an outstanding ability to see realities for what they were and I was no different in his eyes. He continued rattling off the Queen’s comments until finally he stopped and retracted, “But I know you brother”, he became extremely serious; “I know that you cannot be this wound up in her politics that you can’t see what she is doing.” I sat back in my seat as he spoke, realizing how correct his assessment was.
I used to be less willing to please, I used to be one who scrutinizes, but what he didn’t know was the real reasons behind my actions, unless he did and he was waiting for me to confess. It was a true thing; I had spent too much time away from my brother. If I confessed the proverbial beans would be spilled and I couldn’t have Keane thinking any less of me than he did at this moment. I smiled at him and told him I wanted to introduce him to someone. He remarked, “This isn’t over, Cian.”
“Understood.” I stated factually. I stood from my seat and Keane’s eyes followed as I crossed the receiving room toward the front door.
“Where are you off to now, brother?” Keane’s voice echoed the cathedral ceiling as the door closed behind me. I wasn’t two steps from the door before it opened again, “Cian!?”
“Meet me at back at Morte’ in an hour.” I called back to him as I vanished into the thick evening air. I had to stop by my warehouse for a change of attire and possible weapon collection.
Inside Morte’ the deep bass of Deftones’ “Passenger” thumped through the unseen house speakers as the confidence of all in attendance was palpable; I received more than a few looks from the female humans in the club as I crested the threshold and took a big whiff of the bouquet before me.
And it occurred to me to be strange that human was the only scent I detected tonight and from the expression on Sophia’s face I was not as well informed as I should be. Being the only male vampire present I was propositioned by more than enough women looking for a thrill, the walk from the front door of Morte’ to the bar where Sophia stood nervously behind, was not all that long.
My declination to their offers appeared to be taken a multitude of ways. Some mortified by even the approach, others angered, I could also detect hints of jealousy, sadness and depression. Human emotion is not one of the aspects of my former mortality I long for, and until I became aware of Babet’s existence, I was free of them.
I reached the bar just as the music shifted from Deftones to Lords of Acid, “Rough Sex”; Sophia quickly disappeared behind it, before reappearing a second later. In her hand and around her fingers was a set of iron “brass” knuckles.
I nodded toward them as Sophia spoke, “Before you ask, we have a major problem”, she said as she adjusted her breasts to place a tiny dagger between them. She raised her head and met my gaze, her brown eyes flickering with hints of hazel, she was worried. Her thick black hair had been straightened and at the right angle a sheer of raven blue engulfed it. She placed her hair carefully not to reveal the handle of the dagger and her olive skin radiated beautifully through her black lace tunic, whose flared sleeves concealed the iron knuckles. She stepped out from the bar to escort me to the haven doors.
Her platform heels clicking across the floor attracting a little more attention than anticipated and the closer we came to the doors a human mob began to descend; Sophia’s eyes were more intense than I have ever seen them, including her birth into darkness. I clutched my arm around her waist and flashed through the haven doors, slamming them behind us. I turned to face the young vampire, clasping my hands to both her shoulders, “Sophia, calm.”
Her eyes stared directly into mine; intensifying once more before sullying slowly back to a darker hazel. She took a deep breath, closing her eyes. I knew that the smell was overwhelming and she must have some order from the Queen to remain from the feed, but for a younger vampire that is a tall order. Sophia hasn’t had enough time nor the opportunity to hone such skills, being a speck under the Queen’s thumb is tiring and lacks education.
The Queen has been making ones like Sophia for centuries. She will break free like all the others, but it takes cunning among age and anger. For the time being Sophia is a slave to the Queen. I knew that the attempt to probe Sophia for knowledge would be futile, she knew this as well and said, “Go to Estella.”
Nodding in the direction of Estella’s haven door, the inclination that she wasn’t going to explain tonight’s strange happenings, was apparent. Making my way down the stone corridor toward Estella’s door I stopped short just before entering, staring at the beautifully carved barrier between me and my once obsession.
Before I had a chance to reach for the handle, the door flew open, Estella had been preparing for tonight and had just come from a warm bath. I could feel the heat from the water radiate off her cold skin and smell the luxuriousness of her bath salts. Her hair piled on top of her head in what looked like chopsticks sticking out of the sides. She waved her hand to invite me in and once I returned my gaze to her face, I could see she was slightly perturbed by my lack of focus.
I apologized and entered her chamber, “Sorry.”
“No problem, I understand better tha….” She trailed off, as the sentiment would of course be lost on me, “sit.” She said as she readjusted her wrap, turning from me to go behind the dressing screen in the corner of her chamber cell. “So, as I am sure you’ve heard, we are on high alert tonight.”
“Yes, I gathered that from Sophia’s demeanor.”
“Before I go into that, you should know, I spoke with Babet, she is taking the kids to dinner and a movie tonight, I told her to touch base with me when the movie was over...” she trailed off to administer some piece of clothing and I could make out the voluptuous silhouette her body made as she removed the sticks from her hair, cascading down her back hitting the base of her spine as it fell. She bent down putting her feet inside of a pair of shorts, pulling them up securing the suspenders accompanying them, arcing her back as she did up the buttons until she suddenly stopped, craning her head around the screen, “Figures” she said as she rolled her eyes at me.
“I am still a man, Estella.” I explained sarcastically before rising from my seat.
“Yes.” Estella being Estella, wrapped her leg around the edge of the dressing screen, her foot encased in a blue and white platform heel resembling a child’s saddle shoe, pointed so that her toe graced the floor slightly, she placed the foot and then spun the rest of her body out from the dressing screen, in true stripper fashion and I couldn’t help but smile slyly before laughing heartily as she continued.
The shorts were high waist and looked like Navy sailor pants. Estella was going for a 1940’s look tonight. While behind the screen she had pinned her hair back on both sides and it had formed tight curls while up. She was gloriously beautiful as she always was, and asked her how she got to be so. She walked over to me, placing her hand on my chest.
“Thank you Cian, I can always count on you.” Her smile through bright red lips was intoxicating.
“Don’t forget it, ok?” I said brushing the back of my hand against her face.
“So?” We stood looking at each other for a moment, when Estella regained her train of thought. I turned to take my seat again.
“Sorry, just….thinking. So yes, earlier today I awoke to find Morte’ blazing with mortal life, even the halls of the haven were permeated with the scent of human blood. I opened my door to see why Madliene was already allowing patrons, when it slammed closed before me.” She sat next to me on the 18th century tufted couch. “Xavier had slipped into my chamber before the door closed and before I knew it he was between me and the door, he then spun me around and slammed me against it. He shot both arms up to block my exit, of course I was frustrated with his games and I guess he saw that, because he lowered his arms. I stood there with my arms crossed waiting for an explanation. He gave up his little ruse, explaining that the creature Madliene had been hunting on behalf of Babet is here, the bait, out there…long story short, we’re trapping an “animal” tonight. What led it here? Uh yeah, look around.”
None of it made sense, to Estella this was something Xavier was a part of, but Xavier being Xavier, it was too easy to assume he was even capable of concocting this without some sort of assistance. It could be the new arrivals, Alistair and Flannaghan were said to be roaming our city streets and I couldn’t discredit the fact that the recent arrival of an old friend of mine had been extremely disturbing. It has to go deeper, it’s just too easy. I caught Estella glaring at me as I pondered this new development. “So what’s her plan, then?”
“That’s the kicker, Cian….I don’t know.” Estella paced for a moment, and then stopped short. “What time is it?”
Being that there are no visible restraints of time on us vampires, there is still the dreaded “day” job, go figure. Estella was almost late for hers, and from the looks of it she was okay with that possibility. Why would she want to go out into the lion’s den, so to speak? The ravenous human females just yearning for their vampire fix, be it male or female. Tonight our species was the minority, and that thought sparked the illusive light bulb.
“Estella, why keep out the other vampires, the patrons?” She turned to me inquisitively, squinted her eyes and furrowing her brow, a stern line crossed her lips.
“Exactly. Why the “feast” when there are no feasters?” She grabbed her clutch bag, which of course matched her little outfit, and began for the door, “You coming?”
“Yeah, just taking in the view.” I smiled and gave her one more look over. She smiled and held the door for me to pass and once the latch closed I headed toward the haven doors to Morte’ Estella not far behind. Up the spiral stone staircase and out through the archway, the doors to Morte’ were a heavy sort for obvious reasons, there is way no way in hell a human could open them, not even Mr. Universe. The music changed from dance-techno sex to A Perfect Circle and at the moment, “The Outsider” played gloriously.
A swift push from both Estella and I the door flew open like we were making a grand entrance to a performance. The club had gained an enormous number, fortunately human males mingled in with the ravenous females, but as far as both Estella and I could tell no fellow vampires in attendance tonight.
http://www.amazon.com/Revelations-Cia...
Welcome to his home? Reconvening at Cian's...
Scarlet seems wonderstruck as she cranes her head taking in the high ceilings of the warehouse but she gains composure and enters the elevator with me and Estella. My haven is still illuminated and stands as I left it. I hold the gate up for us to pass through, dropping the duffle bags by it. I release the gate and fasten the latch. Scarlet is walking around my haven the same way her mother did less than two weeks ago, politely smiling at the old tattered antique couch.
I allow her to take her time before giving her the “penny” tour. She is still holding Henri as I show her the sink and shower, should she need water. I ask her respectively to stay away from the windows and to keep the lights on should Officer Dumas return. I explain the television and advise her of my box. She is less than excited about the possibility of having to hide in my resting place, but I can see her realization that the entirety of this is for her and Henri’s protection. Estella stands idle watching my interaction with the teenager and I feel a slight swell of pride come from her. I cut my eyes in her direction and smile as I explain things to Scarlet, who is taking it all in. All the while I am internally devising my plan to “handle” our most gracious “Queen”. Multitasking is a bitch sometimes.
“Can I ask you something?” Scarlet says hoisting Henri further up her tiny body.
I bend so that she is looking down at me, “Of course.” Estella is intrigued by this, Scarlet has been as vocal with her over the last two weeks about as much as she has with me, which isn’t much.
“The night our house burned down and you took us to the townhouse, why did you say I unsettled you?”
“Christ, your mother was right; you do have ears like a bat.” She smiles at this. For the moment I am at a loss for words, Estella is expectant and pleasantly surprised. “I said what I said that night because I didn’t know then, what I know now.”
“Which is what?”
“That you and your mother and brother are very special. I feel a kinship to the three of you, a feeling I haven’t felt in….” I am cut off by the sound of Keane’s voice.
“Almost two thousand years.” He says cresting the window sill that had been left open from Fallon’s entry. Keane’s boots hit the floor with persistence.
He has changed from his suit to something more suitable for battle. His olive green cargo pants are tucked into his black steel toed boots and his long sword is secured across his back, the strap crossing his massive chest causing his black t-shirt to appear fitted. Inside I smile; this is how I remember my brother, not the suit wearing vamp I met.
Scarlet is slightly startled and grips her brother a little tighter.
“It’s okay, Scarlet this is Keane. He’s an old friend; he’s here to help us get your mom back, okay?” I see her relax her grip on Henri, who coos softly.
“Aye, we’re going to find your mom lass.” Keane says to Scarlet, but he seems to linger in her face.
“Keane, what is it?” I ask, looking at Scarlet.
“She looks like…Cian, don’t you see it? She looks like Maggie, brother.” His astonishment is overwhelming.
I close in on Scarlet who is somewhat embarrassed by all the attention and of course I never saw it before, she was always secluded or I was completely vexed by her mother but as I look on, she is almost the spitting image of my younger sister.
This is a strange revelation but I can’t be too bewildered I relinquished the privilege to know anything about my sister beyond the day I became what I am. I begin to wish I had spent more time with Scarlet. Is it possible that over the centuries my sister’s bloodline trickled into Louisiana and for that matter into Babet’s?
Of course in this world, our world; possibilities are unlimited, unhindered and endless. Just as the possibility that Madliene is behind this bull-shit. I am pulled from my inner thought and refocus on the many tasks at hand. It’s not a long walk from my warehouse to Morte’, we secure the building and precious cargo inside. I am vehemently worried for the children but I have to keep my mind on Madliene and the how and why of this deranged insanity.
For now I have the how what was left was to figure out the why. Motivation can be a dangerous thing but what motive would Madliene have for taking Babet, especially knowing the human woman’s connection to Estella, her once pride and joy. But for Madliene’s children, each one has experienced being her world, her utmost priority and so many have fallen from the proverbial grace of their mother.
For the moment it is Sophia, a dangerous and calculating fighter. I should know I trained the young vampire. And then there is Angelique, Sophia’s older sister and only link to her human life, who has been rogue for the past six months. If Angelique were here we may have an advantage to disarm Sophia but that is not a blessing we possess at the moment. Then we come to Xavier.
Created the same night as Sophia but unlike Sophia was forced to endure a human upbringing of violence and hatred prior to, he begged to be one of us for years, always being denied by Madliene. The animosity against our “Queen” is vast and the majority of it resided in her own home.
We are nearly to the door of the outer corridor when Keane reminds me where he’s been for fifty years, “I called Linde while I took care of Shi. His brother, he has always wanted revenge.” Keane’s mood is hard but ready. “I’ll wait here for him. Besides, even though we are ambushing her, it’s probably best you two go in ahead so it doesn’t seem that way.” Oh Keane. How I have missed my brother’s cunning tones.
I can’t help but smile to myself.
“Aye.” I say and Estella reaches for the door.
We crest the threshold and Morte’ is eerily quiet and clean of all human remains, alive or dead. There is no music throbbing the walls, nor light sequences to mystify and enchant. With the houselights up Morte’ was simply what it is, an old run down warehouse that’s been renovated. Estella looks to me as if she is attempting to gain confidence, I don’t show it, but at this moment I feel inept.
It matters not, she takes a deep breath and before we lurch forward we hear the clicking of heels above us in the balcony, her familiar yet disturbing voice rings in my ears like cannon fire, “Cian, Estella; it’s about time.” Madliene says her hands tracing the railing in front of her.
I can’t hold my tongue, “Enough fool’s errands Madliene, where is she?!” Estella whips her head in my direction, disappointed sympathy crossing her face. But I keep my eyes on Madliene.
Who doesn’t turn her gaze from mine either, “Who? Your little playmate?”
She laughs maniacally. “You know, Cian I send you in the right direction. I have her husband eliminated and burn her dwellings. Knowing what I know about her connection to Estella I place you both in her path, offer my own home to stash her and take Estella off protection duty in my greatest hopes you would lose control and kill the little bitch. But, no. You exhibit some insane control not to, even though I remove my enchantments from you and block Estella’s gifts. You even fucked her and showed her your monster, did you not?”
She stops hoping Estella will lash out at me, but she doesn’t. I can feel Estella mounting, but not in my direction. It’s all for Madliene, who has absentmindedly fucked herself with Estella.
Just then I feel another emotion enter the club, Keane and Linde have entered. Linde is projecting some serious animosity and Keane; I can feel is excited about the possibility of battle. Madliene straightens up and her eyes burn bright hazel, “Linde! How nice to see you, I suspect you are here to avenge your brother?”
She begins to head for the staircase but Linde’s Icelandic tone halts her, “Stay where you are she-devil. When we are ready to end you, you may join us, until then…” But she cuts him off with her demonic laughter, it’s a sickening sound.
“Fine, fine. As you wish.” She smiles
waving her hand around the air above her head and behind her; three of her former, fallen children appear behind her. Adewale; a hulking African man once Madliene’s lover and right hand, he was cast aside when his affections deterred from Madliene to Charra, who is also present behind Madliene. Charra is of Spanish decent, resembling Angelique and Sophia, with her long black curly hair and olive complexion. The two of them escaping the Queen’s grasp with little Dat, who is barely visible to us over the tall balcony. A Vietnamese boy Madliene changed during her travels through the tropical climate country; Dat had also grown tired of Madliene…eventually they all do.
Estella is more familiar with the three than I am and it seems as if she wants to call out to them, to hopefully squelch this, but as we all look further it’s obvious that the trio is under Madliene’s complete control. We are waiting for the catalyst, but hear another familiar voice enter the club.
“Aw, I’m late. What did I miss?” Fallon has entered still in his suit and I thankfully see his Morningstar unsheathed from its cylindrical container. Keane slaps Fallon on the back, elated to see him.
“And this must be Fallon.” Madliene says smiling at our chestnut haired brother who bows arrogantly, typical Fallon, but he is quickly straightens when Madliene speaks on, “So all that is missing is Finn, yes?”
Our faces all drop and I feel intense hate welling in Fallon but he keeps his composure for now. Her attempt to coax a reaction out of Fallon isn’t working and I can feel her calculating something else.
“This is a lovely gathering I must say and I am honored that so many of you have arrived to do what you think you can do. Cian, I think, it would be interesting to discuss why you feel a connection to sweet innocent Babet and then...” she rolls her eyes, “…you can have your say, and so on and so forth.” She is overly self-assured and stands very still, her face becoming increasingly more and more agitated; she clears her mind to address us all. Before she does, she wants entertainment.
She beckons Adewale who falls from the balcony railing, but before his feet hit the floor Fallon is a blur and unfortunately for the giant African, meets Fallon’s Morningstar. Adewale’s head is replaced by the handle of Fallon’s club, the spiked ball firmly implanted into his chocolate shoulders. This of course sparks a reaction in Charra who is shrieking like a banshee as she flies from the balcony circling us overhead. Fallon places his boot on Adewale’s back and we all hear a sucking pulling sound as he removes the Morningstar from Adewale’s body.
Fallon’s stance takes that of a baseball player, practice swinging before steadying himself for Charra’s attack.
Linde, however beats him to the punch, javelining a spear into the Spanish beauty before disappearing. Charra’s body falls and I hear a child sobbing from high above. Dat is mourning his adopted mother, but he doesn’t react. He remains sobbing and this infuriates Madliene who rolls her eyes.
Estella sees this, expecting her to hurt the boy, and begins to position to a crouch but straightens, still keeping her feet stance for attack, Madliene begins to spin her web again, “Why do you believe you are compelled to Babet’s side Cian?”
Linde, along with Keane, who had been in the middle with me and Estella, was now unseen throughout the club.
I turn to see Romeo and Damien almost hyperventilating along the East wall, Estella looks confused until Keane and Linde flank us, “We released it.” Keane says smiling. They had released the creature from the bowels of the club and the human boys were having difficulty avoiding death, I assume. Only Sophia remained Madliene’s last advantage. Dat was useless to her; she had left him an orphan once again.
From the corner of my eye I see Sophia enter with Xavier, her face observing like a stand by pawn in a chess game. But his is filled with rage and I wonder why it seems as though he is on our side.
“Sophia my darling.” Madliene’s voice is dripping with disgusting sweetness. Sophia places herself beside Madliene, while Xavier stands idle, but the “Queen” is not ready to use the girl yet and given my relationship with Sophia I am not ready to end her. In an attempt to possibly slow me down, Madliene in her desperation compels Romeo and Damien to pointlessly attack me and Estella. I snatch the boys by their throats. We had yet to see the creature emerge. And I wonder again, what Xavier’s stance is.
http://www.amazon.com/Revelations-Cia...
I allow her to take her time before giving her the “penny” tour. She is still holding Henri as I show her the sink and shower, should she need water. I ask her respectively to stay away from the windows and to keep the lights on should Officer Dumas return. I explain the television and advise her of my box. She is less than excited about the possibility of having to hide in my resting place, but I can see her realization that the entirety of this is for her and Henri’s protection. Estella stands idle watching my interaction with the teenager and I feel a slight swell of pride come from her. I cut my eyes in her direction and smile as I explain things to Scarlet, who is taking it all in. All the while I am internally devising my plan to “handle” our most gracious “Queen”. Multitasking is a bitch sometimes.
“Can I ask you something?” Scarlet says hoisting Henri further up her tiny body.
I bend so that she is looking down at me, “Of course.” Estella is intrigued by this, Scarlet has been as vocal with her over the last two weeks about as much as she has with me, which isn’t much.
“The night our house burned down and you took us to the townhouse, why did you say I unsettled you?”
“Christ, your mother was right; you do have ears like a bat.” She smiles at this. For the moment I am at a loss for words, Estella is expectant and pleasantly surprised. “I said what I said that night because I didn’t know then, what I know now.”
“Which is what?”
“That you and your mother and brother are very special. I feel a kinship to the three of you, a feeling I haven’t felt in….” I am cut off by the sound of Keane’s voice.
“Almost two thousand years.” He says cresting the window sill that had been left open from Fallon’s entry. Keane’s boots hit the floor with persistence.
He has changed from his suit to something more suitable for battle. His olive green cargo pants are tucked into his black steel toed boots and his long sword is secured across his back, the strap crossing his massive chest causing his black t-shirt to appear fitted. Inside I smile; this is how I remember my brother, not the suit wearing vamp I met.
Scarlet is slightly startled and grips her brother a little tighter.
“It’s okay, Scarlet this is Keane. He’s an old friend; he’s here to help us get your mom back, okay?” I see her relax her grip on Henri, who coos softly.
“Aye, we’re going to find your mom lass.” Keane says to Scarlet, but he seems to linger in her face.
“Keane, what is it?” I ask, looking at Scarlet.
“She looks like…Cian, don’t you see it? She looks like Maggie, brother.” His astonishment is overwhelming.
I close in on Scarlet who is somewhat embarrassed by all the attention and of course I never saw it before, she was always secluded or I was completely vexed by her mother but as I look on, she is almost the spitting image of my younger sister.
This is a strange revelation but I can’t be too bewildered I relinquished the privilege to know anything about my sister beyond the day I became what I am. I begin to wish I had spent more time with Scarlet. Is it possible that over the centuries my sister’s bloodline trickled into Louisiana and for that matter into Babet’s?
Of course in this world, our world; possibilities are unlimited, unhindered and endless. Just as the possibility that Madliene is behind this bull-shit. I am pulled from my inner thought and refocus on the many tasks at hand. It’s not a long walk from my warehouse to Morte’, we secure the building and precious cargo inside. I am vehemently worried for the children but I have to keep my mind on Madliene and the how and why of this deranged insanity.
For now I have the how what was left was to figure out the why. Motivation can be a dangerous thing but what motive would Madliene have for taking Babet, especially knowing the human woman’s connection to Estella, her once pride and joy. But for Madliene’s children, each one has experienced being her world, her utmost priority and so many have fallen from the proverbial grace of their mother.
For the moment it is Sophia, a dangerous and calculating fighter. I should know I trained the young vampire. And then there is Angelique, Sophia’s older sister and only link to her human life, who has been rogue for the past six months. If Angelique were here we may have an advantage to disarm Sophia but that is not a blessing we possess at the moment. Then we come to Xavier.
Created the same night as Sophia but unlike Sophia was forced to endure a human upbringing of violence and hatred prior to, he begged to be one of us for years, always being denied by Madliene. The animosity against our “Queen” is vast and the majority of it resided in her own home.
We are nearly to the door of the outer corridor when Keane reminds me where he’s been for fifty years, “I called Linde while I took care of Shi. His brother, he has always wanted revenge.” Keane’s mood is hard but ready. “I’ll wait here for him. Besides, even though we are ambushing her, it’s probably best you two go in ahead so it doesn’t seem that way.” Oh Keane. How I have missed my brother’s cunning tones.
I can’t help but smile to myself.
“Aye.” I say and Estella reaches for the door.
We crest the threshold and Morte’ is eerily quiet and clean of all human remains, alive or dead. There is no music throbbing the walls, nor light sequences to mystify and enchant. With the houselights up Morte’ was simply what it is, an old run down warehouse that’s been renovated. Estella looks to me as if she is attempting to gain confidence, I don’t show it, but at this moment I feel inept.
It matters not, she takes a deep breath and before we lurch forward we hear the clicking of heels above us in the balcony, her familiar yet disturbing voice rings in my ears like cannon fire, “Cian, Estella; it’s about time.” Madliene says her hands tracing the railing in front of her.
I can’t hold my tongue, “Enough fool’s errands Madliene, where is she?!” Estella whips her head in my direction, disappointed sympathy crossing her face. But I keep my eyes on Madliene.
Who doesn’t turn her gaze from mine either, “Who? Your little playmate?”
She laughs maniacally. “You know, Cian I send you in the right direction. I have her husband eliminated and burn her dwellings. Knowing what I know about her connection to Estella I place you both in her path, offer my own home to stash her and take Estella off protection duty in my greatest hopes you would lose control and kill the little bitch. But, no. You exhibit some insane control not to, even though I remove my enchantments from you and block Estella’s gifts. You even fucked her and showed her your monster, did you not?”
She stops hoping Estella will lash out at me, but she doesn’t. I can feel Estella mounting, but not in my direction. It’s all for Madliene, who has absentmindedly fucked herself with Estella.
Just then I feel another emotion enter the club, Keane and Linde have entered. Linde is projecting some serious animosity and Keane; I can feel is excited about the possibility of battle. Madliene straightens up and her eyes burn bright hazel, “Linde! How nice to see you, I suspect you are here to avenge your brother?”
She begins to head for the staircase but Linde’s Icelandic tone halts her, “Stay where you are she-devil. When we are ready to end you, you may join us, until then…” But she cuts him off with her demonic laughter, it’s a sickening sound.
“Fine, fine. As you wish.” She smiles
waving her hand around the air above her head and behind her; three of her former, fallen children appear behind her. Adewale; a hulking African man once Madliene’s lover and right hand, he was cast aside when his affections deterred from Madliene to Charra, who is also present behind Madliene. Charra is of Spanish decent, resembling Angelique and Sophia, with her long black curly hair and olive complexion. The two of them escaping the Queen’s grasp with little Dat, who is barely visible to us over the tall balcony. A Vietnamese boy Madliene changed during her travels through the tropical climate country; Dat had also grown tired of Madliene…eventually they all do.
Estella is more familiar with the three than I am and it seems as if she wants to call out to them, to hopefully squelch this, but as we all look further it’s obvious that the trio is under Madliene’s complete control. We are waiting for the catalyst, but hear another familiar voice enter the club.
“Aw, I’m late. What did I miss?” Fallon has entered still in his suit and I thankfully see his Morningstar unsheathed from its cylindrical container. Keane slaps Fallon on the back, elated to see him.
“And this must be Fallon.” Madliene says smiling at our chestnut haired brother who bows arrogantly, typical Fallon, but he is quickly straightens when Madliene speaks on, “So all that is missing is Finn, yes?”
Our faces all drop and I feel intense hate welling in Fallon but he keeps his composure for now. Her attempt to coax a reaction out of Fallon isn’t working and I can feel her calculating something else.
“This is a lovely gathering I must say and I am honored that so many of you have arrived to do what you think you can do. Cian, I think, it would be interesting to discuss why you feel a connection to sweet innocent Babet and then...” she rolls her eyes, “…you can have your say, and so on and so forth.” She is overly self-assured and stands very still, her face becoming increasingly more and more agitated; she clears her mind to address us all. Before she does, she wants entertainment.
She beckons Adewale who falls from the balcony railing, but before his feet hit the floor Fallon is a blur and unfortunately for the giant African, meets Fallon’s Morningstar. Adewale’s head is replaced by the handle of Fallon’s club, the spiked ball firmly implanted into his chocolate shoulders. This of course sparks a reaction in Charra who is shrieking like a banshee as she flies from the balcony circling us overhead. Fallon places his boot on Adewale’s back and we all hear a sucking pulling sound as he removes the Morningstar from Adewale’s body.
Fallon’s stance takes that of a baseball player, practice swinging before steadying himself for Charra’s attack.
Linde, however beats him to the punch, javelining a spear into the Spanish beauty before disappearing. Charra’s body falls and I hear a child sobbing from high above. Dat is mourning his adopted mother, but he doesn’t react. He remains sobbing and this infuriates Madliene who rolls her eyes.
Estella sees this, expecting her to hurt the boy, and begins to position to a crouch but straightens, still keeping her feet stance for attack, Madliene begins to spin her web again, “Why do you believe you are compelled to Babet’s side Cian?”
Linde, along with Keane, who had been in the middle with me and Estella, was now unseen throughout the club.
I turn to see Romeo and Damien almost hyperventilating along the East wall, Estella looks confused until Keane and Linde flank us, “We released it.” Keane says smiling. They had released the creature from the bowels of the club and the human boys were having difficulty avoiding death, I assume. Only Sophia remained Madliene’s last advantage. Dat was useless to her; she had left him an orphan once again.
From the corner of my eye I see Sophia enter with Xavier, her face observing like a stand by pawn in a chess game. But his is filled with rage and I wonder why it seems as though he is on our side.
“Sophia my darling.” Madliene’s voice is dripping with disgusting sweetness. Sophia places herself beside Madliene, while Xavier stands idle, but the “Queen” is not ready to use the girl yet and given my relationship with Sophia I am not ready to end her. In an attempt to possibly slow me down, Madliene in her desperation compels Romeo and Damien to pointlessly attack me and Estella. I snatch the boys by their throats. We had yet to see the creature emerge. And I wonder again, what Xavier’s stance is.
http://www.amazon.com/Revelations-Cia...
Babet has arrived, WELCOME TO WILMINGTON!!!
In Wilmington I stop at an upscale gas station and grab my bag from the back. To meet the Gunnar family I have packed one of my sundresses and a newer pair of flip flops. I pair the white sundress with a black sweater since the spaghetti straps are less than conservative. In the mirror I finger my tresses and add a little bit of eye-liner and mascara. My Mamma says without makeup I look like, “Death warmed over.” She’s right and it’s worse since I’ve been in the car for the entire day. I take a deep breath; gather my jeans and t-shirt and head back to my car.
My assumptions of the Gunnar’s beach house are exactly correct and I’m in absolute awe of the three story palace. The Wrightsville beachfront mansion is pale yellow with blue shutters on every one of the large rectangular etched windows. My eyes follow from the door, up to the second story balcony and up further; this house is like a never ending structure to the starry night sky.
I park my car behind a fleet of expensive vehicles. A silver Audi TT sits in front of a Jeep Rubicon but my attentions are diverted to a beautiful Mercedes C-class, sleek black and chrome glow pristine under flood lights. I don’t get to linger at the statuesque automobile when I hear the front door open.
“You’re here!” A diluted Nordic accent chimes over the sound of wind and crashing waves, I see my Daddy’s friend Lars Gunnar, actor of stage and screen. “I’m Lars; Babet?” He says his smile warm and inviting.
“Babet. Yes sir, Mr. Gunnar.” I say, my southern charm oozing through.
“Please, Lars. Call me Lars.” He bows slightly and clasps his hand to his chest. He rises and he is quite tall, lanky almost with light blue eyes and graying blonde hair. His skin is pale and supple; he doesn’t look like a sixty year old man.
“Lars, yes sir.” My tone is professional.
“You can gather your things momentarily; I would like you to meet Soren before he goes to sleep. Okay?”
“Of course.”
Lars holds his hand out for me to go ahead of him to the house, but passes me to open the door. I thank him with a smile; I’m very used to a man holding my door. I pass into the foyer and look high above me and all around me.
The space above is open to multiple sky lights with a grand staircase to the left and the open modern kitchen and dining room to the right. Straight ahead is a great room with leather furniture and beach decor looking out a window framed glass wall with doors leading to a massive second story deck. Beyond is sand and sea, which I can see from the foyer. To the left of the great room is a dark hallway, which I imagine leads to the master bedroom.
“The studio wanted to put me and Soren in a gated community off the beach, but I refused. I told them it was beach front or I walk.” He says smiling but I can see he is a little nervous. He quietly asks, “How was your drive up?”
We ascend a grand staircase; Lars leads me down a dark hall outside the little boy’s room and I feel slightly uncomfortable, “Fine. Long, but I made it.” I say smiling.
“Yes.” He turns the knob and opens the door to a well decorated little boy’s room. Blue and Green planes fly beneath a clouded ceiling. Plastic trucks, matchbox cars and stuffed animals litter the floor and beyond all the chaos a blonde curly haired boy with long eyelashes is passed out in a round spaceship bed. I can’t help but close in on the little tyke who with his eyes closed resembles my own little boy. Lars is picking up toys to make a path as I gaze at his son.
I can’t help but quietly comment, “He’s precious.” My guts wrench for Henri and Scarlet.
“Yes…but he is sleeping. They are all angels when they are sleeping.” He kicks a stuffed monkey toward an open closet. “I was hoping you would meet him while he was awake, but…” I don’t let him finish.
“I got held up in Atlanta.” I say matter-of-factly and it seems to work because he is smiling.
“Yes I’ve worked in Atlanta before, traffic is terrible. Lucky for me I had a driver.” He says holding out his hand to usher me from the room. I realize it’s late but I feel like I’m being rushed around the house.
We walk back down the staircase and I’m hoping at some point I will be able to get my stuff out of my car and settle. No such luck, Lars is ushering me toward the open great room. He hands me a legal sized sheet of paper with black writing from top to bottom and I know this is the mother’s instructions for her husband to handle their son. At the very top; SOREN, is written in dynamic calligraphic letters.
“I’m sorry I can’t show you to your room just yet. I’m on a tight schedule for this production and I have to be on set tomorrow morning at 6:30. That is everything Vilma; my wife has directed for Soren.”
I glance over the list and zero in on his wake time; 7:30 am, Breakfast prepared by Henley. I scan the remainder of the paper before opening my mouth, “Who is Henley?” I ask.
“Henley is our chef. He is wonderful, you will love him, and he arrives at six on the dot every morning.”
“I’m sure I will. Who is Justus?” I ask, the name at the bottom accompanies the statement; “Arrives on Friday.”
“Justus is my oldest son, he is also an actor.”
“Oh, are you working together on this project?” I can’t help but smirk internally, I sound like a pro.
“No, not this time. We have worked together in the past, but not on this production. He is coming into town for pleasure, not business.”
“Ah.” I simply retort.
“He is the other portrait I would like you to paint. Soren…and Justus.”
“Of course.” I start to feel like I have a limited vocabulary.
I scan the list again and there are no wardrobe/uniform specifications printed so I inquire, “What do you want me to wear while I’m attending Soren?”
I seem to have caught him off guard because he is staring at me like I am insane, “I’m sorry?” He chuckles.
“Uniform? Do I need to acquire a uniform?”
He laughs heartily this time and it’s a pleasant sound, “Oh, no. My dear, you wear whatever you like. We are not those types of people.” He says and I think to myself, “This list proves otherwise”. He begins to double over and I didn’t realize I was so funny, “I’m sorry…it’s just, I realize my wife’s list is intricate, but you must understand; Soren is her first child.”
Immediately I’m relieved and it must show, Lars is staring with wide eyes, “Yes, sir. I have two children of my own, but…” He cuts me off.
“You understand then.” He nods, smiling.
I get new mothers are particular and articulate about their children, but wait until she has the next one; this list shit will go right out the window. I can tell by his tone that there is some extended familial drama there but it’s none of my business and I wait for him to continue.
He shifts his eyes to a clock on the wall and says, “It’s later than I thought, let me show you to your room and you may get settled. Will you be able to wake Soren on time?” He asks smiling like I can’t handle it.
“Yes sir, I will be awake when Henley arrives.” I reply with complete professionalism, but I know I will be awake for the rest of the night.
He nods and smirks out of the corner of his eye, “All right then. I‘ll be gone by the time Henley arrives so it will be just you and Soren for the day. I do have a dinner tomorrow night to attend but Henley will prepare your meals before he leaves for the evening. Get acquainted with the list here,” He taps the legal sized paper drooping in my hand. “And I may or may not see you tomorrow evening. We can discuss the portraits once Justus arrives, he has some ideas.” He rolls his eyes at his son’s presumptiveness.
I keep it light, we are only on partial day one; “I’m open to suggestions.”
He laughs and winks at me. I follow him as he waves me toward the staircase; he holds his hand out and says, “The last door on the left is your room Babet; across from Soren. Bathroom is at the end of the hall. Please make yourself at home.”
“Thank you.” I say, he turns to go back into the darkness of the house I think to myself, I hate when people say that, “Make yourself at home” it always makes me feel more self conscious about being a guest in a strange house. I shrug my shoulders and make my way back up the steps and down the hall. I open the door, I don’t go in but I do place the instruction sheet on the first piece of furniture I see in the dark room. I turn on heel to go back out to my car and collect my things. The house is quiet while I go in and out; up and down the stairs, my arms full of art supplies and my two duffle bags. My last trip out to the car I grab my stuff from the back seat. The sealable plastic bag, with my care package from home inside, is not living up to its name. I can detect a hint of cannabis when I grab my linen sack concealing the package. I want to kick myself for not buying papers at the gas station; I won’t be able to indulge tonight. I certainly could use it, driving and basically a stair-master routine later I’m going to be restless until Lars leaves or Henley arrives or Soren wakes.
My bedroom is a good size; it has standard beach furniture, blonde wood. Inside the door to the right is a large dresser, just past is a closet. I drop onto the fluffy mint green duvet that matches the walls and look around. Between the end of the bed and entertainment center is a narrow walkway, flat screen television, blu-ray player and shuffle player stereo reside inside the cabinet. There is a nice sized window at the end of the room and by the bedside is a small table. The décor is beach fare; starfish, tropical fish and driftwood. The floors throughout are light bamboo with white trim.
I push myself off of the bed and grab my tarp from the long plastic bin. I unfold a portion the material in a nook of the room. I’ll have to wait for the sun to come up before I can position my easel and I hope that the light in this room is good. I prop it against the window frame none the less. I’m not one to unpack my bags and use the dressers in hotel rooms or any other place besides home; but I am one to lay out all my toiletries and I’m a little excited to see the bathroom. I quietly creep into the hall since Soren’s room is directly across from mine; cosmetic bag and “LIST” in hand. The door opens like butter and I slip inside. I flip on the light and I’m amazed at the luxuriousness of the communal bathroom.
The bathroom is a galley; a wide galley. Two rooms, the powder room is first, a long basin sink stretches from door to door, and there is ample dressing space in this portion of the room. Above it is a large framed mirror and the cabinets underneath are sleek and modern. I open the second door where the basin tub and toilet are, and there is vast space around the two. I wonder what the master bath is like! Wow!
I look in the wall to wall mirror; take a deep breath and running my fingers through my hair I could definitely use a bath. It’s the perfect opportunity to try out the large porcelain basin tub. I turn the water on fast and hot. I slip back into my temporary bedroom and grab the instruction sheet off the dresser. I can become familiar with it while I soak the day away. I secure the door and slip out of my clothes; the water is so hot it’s like ritual slowly sliding into the steaming water.
This temperature is most definitely not healthy but it feels so good. I finally sit and the heat feels like tiny hot pokers on my inner thighs. It’s sick, I know but man does it feel good. I’m settled enough to grab the paper off the floor and the porcelain under my arm gives me a cold shock. As strange as it is a flash of Cian’s beautiful face hits me and I almost drop the paper in the water. Oh how I miss his piercing ice blue eyes under that dark furrowed brow and the tiny strands of his raven hair hanging between those eyes.
I swear I get a whiff of his indiscernible scent; like a Penhaligon’s sample set, and the memory of our time in Mad..Mora’s basement floods my consciousness. I close my eyes and sink further into the scalding water. Flashes of his lips at my thigh and then at the apex sends me over the edge. My body tenses and without touching myself what so ever I fall into ecstasy grasping the sides of the tub the paper crumpled in my fist. I keep quiet but it isn’t without great difficulty. I cannot believe that just happened; I mean the dreams were one thing but this is a whole other level; I’m wide awake.
My dreams. Oh boy, my dreams. In the beginning they scared the absolute shit out of me but after the first couple I began to enjoy it. I was plagued with the vision of a frightening yet alluring creature hovering over me, tracing my body with its breath. Until it penetrates and violates me; drinking my blood while ravaging me sexually was scary; at first. Another subconscious sickness I’m sure. Apparently I’m full of them; death wish after death wish. My long lost boyfriend is a vampire, were he to lose control I would become what he is, what my father is and what my…Estella is. Calling her Aunt is too weird. I drive entirely too fast and on occasion, way too fast. The list goes on.
I shake all of this and open my eyes; attempting to straighten the paper. I hope they don’t think I purposefully crumpled it. I take deep breaths as I calm down from that delightful strangeness. I regain composure and focus on the hand written directions.
http://www.amazon.com/Babets-Epiphany...
To see who I pictured when I wrote Babet's Epiphany go to PINTEREST.com
http://www.pinterest.com/augustafern/...
Augusta Fern
My assumptions of the Gunnar’s beach house are exactly correct and I’m in absolute awe of the three story palace. The Wrightsville beachfront mansion is pale yellow with blue shutters on every one of the large rectangular etched windows. My eyes follow from the door, up to the second story balcony and up further; this house is like a never ending structure to the starry night sky.
I park my car behind a fleet of expensive vehicles. A silver Audi TT sits in front of a Jeep Rubicon but my attentions are diverted to a beautiful Mercedes C-class, sleek black and chrome glow pristine under flood lights. I don’t get to linger at the statuesque automobile when I hear the front door open.
“You’re here!” A diluted Nordic accent chimes over the sound of wind and crashing waves, I see my Daddy’s friend Lars Gunnar, actor of stage and screen. “I’m Lars; Babet?” He says his smile warm and inviting.
“Babet. Yes sir, Mr. Gunnar.” I say, my southern charm oozing through.
“Please, Lars. Call me Lars.” He bows slightly and clasps his hand to his chest. He rises and he is quite tall, lanky almost with light blue eyes and graying blonde hair. His skin is pale and supple; he doesn’t look like a sixty year old man.
“Lars, yes sir.” My tone is professional.
“You can gather your things momentarily; I would like you to meet Soren before he goes to sleep. Okay?”
“Of course.”
Lars holds his hand out for me to go ahead of him to the house, but passes me to open the door. I thank him with a smile; I’m very used to a man holding my door. I pass into the foyer and look high above me and all around me.
The space above is open to multiple sky lights with a grand staircase to the left and the open modern kitchen and dining room to the right. Straight ahead is a great room with leather furniture and beach decor looking out a window framed glass wall with doors leading to a massive second story deck. Beyond is sand and sea, which I can see from the foyer. To the left of the great room is a dark hallway, which I imagine leads to the master bedroom.
“The studio wanted to put me and Soren in a gated community off the beach, but I refused. I told them it was beach front or I walk.” He says smiling but I can see he is a little nervous. He quietly asks, “How was your drive up?”
We ascend a grand staircase; Lars leads me down a dark hall outside the little boy’s room and I feel slightly uncomfortable, “Fine. Long, but I made it.” I say smiling.
“Yes.” He turns the knob and opens the door to a well decorated little boy’s room. Blue and Green planes fly beneath a clouded ceiling. Plastic trucks, matchbox cars and stuffed animals litter the floor and beyond all the chaos a blonde curly haired boy with long eyelashes is passed out in a round spaceship bed. I can’t help but close in on the little tyke who with his eyes closed resembles my own little boy. Lars is picking up toys to make a path as I gaze at his son.
I can’t help but quietly comment, “He’s precious.” My guts wrench for Henri and Scarlet.
“Yes…but he is sleeping. They are all angels when they are sleeping.” He kicks a stuffed monkey toward an open closet. “I was hoping you would meet him while he was awake, but…” I don’t let him finish.
“I got held up in Atlanta.” I say matter-of-factly and it seems to work because he is smiling.
“Yes I’ve worked in Atlanta before, traffic is terrible. Lucky for me I had a driver.” He says holding out his hand to usher me from the room. I realize it’s late but I feel like I’m being rushed around the house.
We walk back down the staircase and I’m hoping at some point I will be able to get my stuff out of my car and settle. No such luck, Lars is ushering me toward the open great room. He hands me a legal sized sheet of paper with black writing from top to bottom and I know this is the mother’s instructions for her husband to handle their son. At the very top; SOREN, is written in dynamic calligraphic letters.
“I’m sorry I can’t show you to your room just yet. I’m on a tight schedule for this production and I have to be on set tomorrow morning at 6:30. That is everything Vilma; my wife has directed for Soren.”
I glance over the list and zero in on his wake time; 7:30 am, Breakfast prepared by Henley. I scan the remainder of the paper before opening my mouth, “Who is Henley?” I ask.
“Henley is our chef. He is wonderful, you will love him, and he arrives at six on the dot every morning.”
“I’m sure I will. Who is Justus?” I ask, the name at the bottom accompanies the statement; “Arrives on Friday.”
“Justus is my oldest son, he is also an actor.”
“Oh, are you working together on this project?” I can’t help but smirk internally, I sound like a pro.
“No, not this time. We have worked together in the past, but not on this production. He is coming into town for pleasure, not business.”
“Ah.” I simply retort.
“He is the other portrait I would like you to paint. Soren…and Justus.”
“Of course.” I start to feel like I have a limited vocabulary.
I scan the list again and there are no wardrobe/uniform specifications printed so I inquire, “What do you want me to wear while I’m attending Soren?”
I seem to have caught him off guard because he is staring at me like I am insane, “I’m sorry?” He chuckles.
“Uniform? Do I need to acquire a uniform?”
He laughs heartily this time and it’s a pleasant sound, “Oh, no. My dear, you wear whatever you like. We are not those types of people.” He says and I think to myself, “This list proves otherwise”. He begins to double over and I didn’t realize I was so funny, “I’m sorry…it’s just, I realize my wife’s list is intricate, but you must understand; Soren is her first child.”
Immediately I’m relieved and it must show, Lars is staring with wide eyes, “Yes, sir. I have two children of my own, but…” He cuts me off.
“You understand then.” He nods, smiling.
I get new mothers are particular and articulate about their children, but wait until she has the next one; this list shit will go right out the window. I can tell by his tone that there is some extended familial drama there but it’s none of my business and I wait for him to continue.
He shifts his eyes to a clock on the wall and says, “It’s later than I thought, let me show you to your room and you may get settled. Will you be able to wake Soren on time?” He asks smiling like I can’t handle it.
“Yes sir, I will be awake when Henley arrives.” I reply with complete professionalism, but I know I will be awake for the rest of the night.
He nods and smirks out of the corner of his eye, “All right then. I‘ll be gone by the time Henley arrives so it will be just you and Soren for the day. I do have a dinner tomorrow night to attend but Henley will prepare your meals before he leaves for the evening. Get acquainted with the list here,” He taps the legal sized paper drooping in my hand. “And I may or may not see you tomorrow evening. We can discuss the portraits once Justus arrives, he has some ideas.” He rolls his eyes at his son’s presumptiveness.
I keep it light, we are only on partial day one; “I’m open to suggestions.”
He laughs and winks at me. I follow him as he waves me toward the staircase; he holds his hand out and says, “The last door on the left is your room Babet; across from Soren. Bathroom is at the end of the hall. Please make yourself at home.”
“Thank you.” I say, he turns to go back into the darkness of the house I think to myself, I hate when people say that, “Make yourself at home” it always makes me feel more self conscious about being a guest in a strange house. I shrug my shoulders and make my way back up the steps and down the hall. I open the door, I don’t go in but I do place the instruction sheet on the first piece of furniture I see in the dark room. I turn on heel to go back out to my car and collect my things. The house is quiet while I go in and out; up and down the stairs, my arms full of art supplies and my two duffle bags. My last trip out to the car I grab my stuff from the back seat. The sealable plastic bag, with my care package from home inside, is not living up to its name. I can detect a hint of cannabis when I grab my linen sack concealing the package. I want to kick myself for not buying papers at the gas station; I won’t be able to indulge tonight. I certainly could use it, driving and basically a stair-master routine later I’m going to be restless until Lars leaves or Henley arrives or Soren wakes.
My bedroom is a good size; it has standard beach furniture, blonde wood. Inside the door to the right is a large dresser, just past is a closet. I drop onto the fluffy mint green duvet that matches the walls and look around. Between the end of the bed and entertainment center is a narrow walkway, flat screen television, blu-ray player and shuffle player stereo reside inside the cabinet. There is a nice sized window at the end of the room and by the bedside is a small table. The décor is beach fare; starfish, tropical fish and driftwood. The floors throughout are light bamboo with white trim.
I push myself off of the bed and grab my tarp from the long plastic bin. I unfold a portion the material in a nook of the room. I’ll have to wait for the sun to come up before I can position my easel and I hope that the light in this room is good. I prop it against the window frame none the less. I’m not one to unpack my bags and use the dressers in hotel rooms or any other place besides home; but I am one to lay out all my toiletries and I’m a little excited to see the bathroom. I quietly creep into the hall since Soren’s room is directly across from mine; cosmetic bag and “LIST” in hand. The door opens like butter and I slip inside. I flip on the light and I’m amazed at the luxuriousness of the communal bathroom.
The bathroom is a galley; a wide galley. Two rooms, the powder room is first, a long basin sink stretches from door to door, and there is ample dressing space in this portion of the room. Above it is a large framed mirror and the cabinets underneath are sleek and modern. I open the second door where the basin tub and toilet are, and there is vast space around the two. I wonder what the master bath is like! Wow!
I look in the wall to wall mirror; take a deep breath and running my fingers through my hair I could definitely use a bath. It’s the perfect opportunity to try out the large porcelain basin tub. I turn the water on fast and hot. I slip back into my temporary bedroom and grab the instruction sheet off the dresser. I can become familiar with it while I soak the day away. I secure the door and slip out of my clothes; the water is so hot it’s like ritual slowly sliding into the steaming water.
This temperature is most definitely not healthy but it feels so good. I finally sit and the heat feels like tiny hot pokers on my inner thighs. It’s sick, I know but man does it feel good. I’m settled enough to grab the paper off the floor and the porcelain under my arm gives me a cold shock. As strange as it is a flash of Cian’s beautiful face hits me and I almost drop the paper in the water. Oh how I miss his piercing ice blue eyes under that dark furrowed brow and the tiny strands of his raven hair hanging between those eyes.
I swear I get a whiff of his indiscernible scent; like a Penhaligon’s sample set, and the memory of our time in Mad..Mora’s basement floods my consciousness. I close my eyes and sink further into the scalding water. Flashes of his lips at my thigh and then at the apex sends me over the edge. My body tenses and without touching myself what so ever I fall into ecstasy grasping the sides of the tub the paper crumpled in my fist. I keep quiet but it isn’t without great difficulty. I cannot believe that just happened; I mean the dreams were one thing but this is a whole other level; I’m wide awake.
My dreams. Oh boy, my dreams. In the beginning they scared the absolute shit out of me but after the first couple I began to enjoy it. I was plagued with the vision of a frightening yet alluring creature hovering over me, tracing my body with its breath. Until it penetrates and violates me; drinking my blood while ravaging me sexually was scary; at first. Another subconscious sickness I’m sure. Apparently I’m full of them; death wish after death wish. My long lost boyfriend is a vampire, were he to lose control I would become what he is, what my father is and what my…Estella is. Calling her Aunt is too weird. I drive entirely too fast and on occasion, way too fast. The list goes on.
I shake all of this and open my eyes; attempting to straighten the paper. I hope they don’t think I purposefully crumpled it. I take deep breaths as I calm down from that delightful strangeness. I regain composure and focus on the hand written directions.
http://www.amazon.com/Babets-Epiphany...
To see who I pictured when I wrote Babet's Epiphany go to PINTEREST.com
http://www.pinterest.com/augustafern/...
Augusta Fern
Meeting new people is always so fun!
Chapter 5
Down on the beach Soren and I have erected a sand palace with four turrets and a drawbridge moat. He truly is a delightful little boy, smiling ear to ear the entire time. He is extremely excited when he sees the surfing neighbors doing their thing in the water. The young girl wipes out and comes up on shore, she is heading our way. I watch her warily; I don’t know how the Gunnar’s feel about their son talking to strangers, but I rebuff myself when Soren gets up and hugs the girl, “Autumn!” He shrills wrapping his arms around her legs.
“Hi Soren!” She rubs his head. “Hi, I’m Autumn Green.” She says to me.
“Babet Beauregard.” I say enthusiastically, “You have real talent.”
She rolls her eyes, “Thanks, I’m trying. My brother and cousins are much better. They’re older, so…” She trails off, typical teenager. “You are so lucky.” She says out of the blue.
“Oh?” I reply and I cup my hand over my eyes to shield them from the sun. Autumn is tall for a girl and has chestnut hair. I can barely make out the color of her eyes, but from what I can see, they are a beautiful bright hazel.
She puts her hand on her hip and shifts her weight to one side, “Yeah, working for Justus Gunnar’s father. Oh man if I was older…I don’t care what the girls around here say. He’s HOT.”
“I haven’t met him.” I say shrugging.
Autumn stands up straight like a soldier, “You haven’t…I mean you don’t know who he is?!”
“No, he comes in to town Friday.” My tone is unchanging. “Who is he?” I know a teenage girl will dish about this guy if Henley won’t.
“He’s on one of those premium channel werewolf shows my Mom won’t let me watch. He’s this really hot biker dude…” She talks on and on about Justus’ television show and I‘ve honestly never heard of it but I listen intently. She turns back to the water when she hears her name.
“Autumn! Come on!” The tallest of the four is calling her, “You can’t get any better if you don’t stay in the water!” His tone is condescendingly loud.
She rolls her eyes again, “My brother, Aaron. The other three are Landon, Deacon and Tristan Adams; they’re my cousins.” She says pointing them out. “It was nice meeting you, I better get back. Bye Soren!” She says at a higher pitch but he is too involved in his castle building.
“You keep at it, the sport needs more girls.”
“I agree!” She says wholeheartedly, turning go bound back to the water.
“It was nice to meet you too.” I call after her. I look at Soren who is sculpting a small hill, “She’s nice, huh?”
“Yes.” He says while continuing to sculpt.
I’m honestly not keeping up with the time when Henley calls Soren in for lunch from the deck, “Lunch little man!”
Soren jumps up from the sand and brushes his hands off onto his shorts and runs to the step staircase. I’m close behind him and take his hand as he places his foot on the first step. He proceeds to count again and it’s so like Henri. Boys at two are all inquisitive and talkative. Inside the house is so cold after Soren and I have been outside. I look at the clock on the wall, its 12:00 on the dot and I’m thankful to have Henley to keep me on track the first couple of days. I get the impression that Lars is less strict with Soren than Vilma but Henley is so precise I have to wonder about the other differences in the couple.
While Soren is eating his lunch I sit at the granite counter to talk to Henley, “Henley?”
“Yes Miss Babe?” He is still milling about; I assume preparing his own lunch.
“I just want to thank you for keeping me on track, I wasn't watching the time. I apologize.” I say sincerely.
He stops what he is doing, “No worries Miss Babe, I’m used to the schedule. Mr. Lars isn't nearly as punctual as Miss Vilma, but I figure it’s best to stay consistent. There’s less of a chance for me to mess up if I do. You’re new to all this, so it’s understandable on your first day.” He smiles genuinely. “Honestly this trip I don’t think Miss Vilma will be coming, Mr. Lars is taking Soren back to Sweden for their time off.”
“But they will return, right? I was told he was here until Halloween.” I ask.
“Yes, they’ll return, but I don’t think Miss Vilma will come back with them. She so wrapped up in her own projects.” He says wiping the counter; after he does he slips a plate in front of me.
“Thanks!” I say smiling at the chicken salad on a croissant with a single leaf of lettuce. “This is one of my favorite meals.”
“I know.” Henley says smiling big and bright.
I begin to get wary, my mouth is somewhat full, “What do you mean, you know?” I chew and swallow.
Henley slides me a glass of ice water, “Mr. Lars likes to keep food in the house people will eat, so your father provided him a list of your favorite foods and meals…” He trails off.
“What?” I ask; half a sandwich in hand.
“Well, he said you don’t eat much. We picked up the lightest of the foods suggested. Chicken and Tuna salad, croissants, fruit, green leaf salad with blue cheese dressing…”
I cut him off, “Okay, I get it.” I roll my eyes.
“Oh, so you do have a little attitude about you?” He says surprised.
“Yeah, I do if provoked enough.”
“That’s good, which will help you with Justus.”
I wonder why Henley is so cryptic about Lars’ older son and after Autumn’s crush-like explanation of his occupation I just know there is something there, “Like I said, he can try. How old is he anyway?”
Henley looks up to the ceiling, thinking hard, “Thirty five, thirty six; somewhere around there.”
I nearly choke on my water; Soren and Henley stare at me, “I’m okay,” I laugh, “Thirty five?!” I am moderately shocked. Why would a thirty five year old man play around with the babysitter? Meeting this cat is going to be interesting and might be quite entertaining. I smile at myself, Henley is still watching me. Soren has returned to his lunch. I straighten up and finish eating because after lunch is Soren’s nap and I can do my own thing for a little while. This time is considered Henley’s break. He leaves the house after I get Soren to lie down. I go back into my room and pull out my cell. It’s 2:00 pm before I can function uninterrupted.
I send Scarlet a text since she will be getting out of school soon and search for a local art store. I’ll need canvas if I’m to do any painting. I charge my camera battery and plug my tablet up as well. After I plug my phone into the outlet closest to the bed I find an art supply place downtown; Arrow Fine on Castle St., I search for a nearby restaurant and find Jester’s Café not far from Arrow Fine on Castle. Tomorrow I’ll take Soren on an outing. When Henley returns I’ll arrange to be out, so he doesn't have to prepare any meals for us.
I get a reply from Scarlet, “Hey Mom, how’s NC?”
I smile at my strong independent daughter, “Good, a little less humid than home. I miss you.” I type.
“Miss you too, have fun. Sleep.”
“Love u.”
“Love you.” She replies and I make a mental note to call my Daddy after sundown.
I do various researches on my phone, areas of Emerald Isle I want to paint and historical hot spots. I know a few in and around Atlantic Beach; Fort Macon for starters. The town of Beaufort and the Maritime Museum, not to mention the water front has history a plenty. I also want to go to the Morehead City Art and History Museum.
But my time off can’t come fast enough, I want so desperately to hunt Cian down, like he did me. Find him and have him wrap me in his arms, before proceeding into other things. I can’t help but laugh out loud at my sexual silliness. I calm down and hear rustling in Soren’s room, I may have woken him. I creep over to my door and crack it open, instantly I see light pouring from his door. I open mine all the way and say sweetly to him, “Hi; did you have a nice nap?”
He is standing in his door, hair disheveled and rubbing his eye. His lips are pouted and his cheeks are flushed. He doesn’t respond to my question, which I am used to. But he is quiet, which I am not used to. Henri has a tendency to take his dreams too literally and the epiphany hits me; my poor baby. Vivid dreams must run in the family.
Soren stands with his arms out for me to pick him up, I do and it’s the first time I've held him. He is the same density as Henri and his hair as I stroke it is the same silky childlike texture. Soren lays his head on my shoulder as I walk down the stairs. I peek into the kitchen on my way to the great room and see Henley has returned already preparing Soren’s snack. I turn on the TV and even though it’s not TV time, I think Soren needs a minute to wake up. It’s not fun television, it’s CSPAN. The ticker at the bottom and constant talking always keeps Henri awake; for now it seems to work for Soren.
I leave him on the couch and pad into the kitchen, “Henley.” I say and he nearly jumps out of his skin.
“Babe! You scared the shi…daylights out of me!” He is clasping his chest.
“Oh my God Henley, I am so sorry; I didn't...mean…to.” I say laughing in between words. I had done this to my Mamma a lot, creep up on her. She hates being scared; I often got a dirty look and the silent treatment for an hour. I of course never mean to, it’s something I can’t control; quiet walker.
Henley lightens up and a relived smile comes across his lips, “That’s okay Miss Babe. Whoa girl; you gave me a good shock. I didn't hear you at all.”
“I’m sorry.” My tone is sincere. “I wanted to talk to you about tomorrow.”
“What happens tomorrow?” He asks.
“I want to take Soren on an outing. I was thinking the Battleship and then downtown by the waterfront is the colonial vessel. Also there is an art store…” He cuts me off.
“Miss Babe, you don’t have to tell me where you’re going; just that you’re going.” He says professionally.
“Oh, well…okay. Soren and I will be out tomorrow, no need to prepare our meals.” I say with a fake British accent, waving my hand around like aristocracy. Henley laughs as Soren’s feet slap into the kitchen.
“Hey little man!” Henley calls, “Are you ready for your snack?”
Soren climbs into his chair, “Yes.”
Henley places a cut apple and mini squares of cheese in front of Soren who dives in immediately. Turning back to the granite counter Henley grabs a cup of milk and hands it to the eating child.
“Tan ku.” Soren says with a mouth full of cheese. He takes the cup between his two hands and gulps down half of it.
“Wow, you must have been thirsty?!” I say looking to Soren and then Henley who is mirroring my wide eyes.
Soren puts the cup down and gasps, “Yes.” He then grabs a fist full of apple.
I turn to Henley who is cleaning up his prep area, “I see you met the neighbors.” He says.
“Yeah, I met Autumn. She’s a nice kid, talented surfer too.”
“Oh yes, Autumn is a very nice girl. She takes a lot of mess from those boys. But she and her brother have a great relationship; friendly siblings for the most part. I don’t know much about the other three.”
“She said they are her cousins. Adams is their last name.”
“Oh yes, Blake Adams’s boys.”
“Blake Adams?”
“Brooke Green’s sister.” I stare at Henley; he has gone so far over my head. “Autumn and Aaron are Brooke’s kids and the other three boys are her nephews, Blake Adams is their mother, Brooke’s sister. They manage those kids’ careers; they were in Australia for the season but they returned home because Aaron was stung pretty badly by a swarm of jellyfish.”
“Yikes.” I say.
“I’m surprised he’s in the water now. He was hospitalized over there.”
I look at the clock and it’s time for Soren’s “quiet play time in his room”. He is finishing his snack and hops down from the chair. I get up and follow him to the staircase; he holds his hand out for me to help him up.
In Soren’s room the furniture is white and bright, like the rest of the house. By his spaceship bed is a small table, on it a professional black and white portrait of a beautiful blonde woman. It is a simple black back drop lit perfectly to accent her facial features which are tilted upwards. Her blonde hair is spilled over her shoulder and she is smiling happily. Even in black and white print, her eyes are definitely light blue. I pick up the frame and gaze at her face. Soren teeters over to me and says, “Moder.” Which I assume is Swedish for “mother”.
Of course this is the cherubic boy’s mother. She looks like she was carved out of cream cheese, perfect. Vilma Gunnar is not as old as her husband Lars. She looks to be a couple of years older than me; oh, there is definitely some familial drama here. I replace the frame and see that Soren is engaged in his ritualistic quiet play time. I ask if he needs me, to which he simply replies, “No.”
I leave the room and linger outside the door to make sure he’s okay then turn to go into my room. I realize this time of day is my break, but I feel like Soren’s nap time is a decent enough break. I don’t argue, so I grab my keys and linen sack I’m using for a purse, sling it over my shoulder and bound quietly down the stairs. I peek into the kitchen and tell Henley I’m leaving. He waves and I close the door behind me. I climb into my car and open my bag rested in my lap. I packed my camera after the battery was charged and my care package from home reminded me to stop at a gas station or specialty store.
The key turns in the ignition and I back carefully out of the curved driveway. Making my way down South Lumina Ave I turn left onto Sunset Ave and stop to take a picture of an architecturally strange beach house. I get back on Lumina and stop at the first gas station I come across to buy a pack of papers. Back in my car I discretely break up and roll myself a joint. I stash it in the visor and secure everything back in my bag. I drive into down town Wilmington and park where there is availability. Camera in hand I take at least two hundred and fifty pictures around Downtown. I get close to the waterfront and shoot the Battleship from there. I check my cell for the time and I have a half hour until my break is over. I quickly make it back to my car and race back to Wrightsville Beach. I bound in the door and look in the kitchen, Henley is flipping through a Men’s Health magazine.
“Quiet as a mouse, Miss Babe.” Henley says looking at his magazine.
“Thanks Henley.” I skip the stairs and fling my bag inside my door. I open Soren’s, he is playing with an alphabet puzzle. “Hey, are you ready to come downstairs?” I ask, hands on hips.
He gets up from the floor and passes me out the door. I follow him to the top step; down we go…one, two, and three…Henley is still flipping through his magazine. Soren passes to gain access to the great room as I enter the kitchen. I can see Soren from here.
“What’s for dinner?” I ask Henley like I would my Mamma.
“Well, Mr. Lars is at a studio dinner tonight and he said Soren could have pizza for dinner.” He inflects his voice so Soren can hear, it works. The little boy runs into the kitchen wide eyed and smiling ear to ear. He hugs Henley and then me before running back out of the room.
“He likes pizza.” I say as more of a statement than a question.
“What kid you know doesn't?”
I tilt my head to relent, it’s very true. I assume we’re ordering since Henley is not mercilessly kneading dough in here, flour everywhere. I smile at the thought; Henley would do that for Soren if he asked it of him. “Where are we ordering from?”
“Vito’s; Soren’s favorite.”
Henley orders the pizza, it arrives and Soren chows down. I bathe him and let him play for fifteen minutes before pulling the plug on the drain. I dry him, dress him and get him comfortable in his bed. He has pre-picked five books to read tonight. He barely makes it to 8:00 and I tuck him in. I creep to the door and turn on a dim night light by it. I slowly secure the door and walk back into my room. I grab my bag and tablet before heading downstairs. Henley is packing up to leave for the evening when I plop down on the couch.
“Well, goodnight Miss Babe. See you first thing in the morning.” He says lingering at the open door.
I look back over the couch and wave, “Goodnight Henley.”
Babet's Epiphany
Augusta Fern
http://www.amazon.com/Babets-Epiphany...
http://www.pinterest.com/augustafern/...
Down on the beach Soren and I have erected a sand palace with four turrets and a drawbridge moat. He truly is a delightful little boy, smiling ear to ear the entire time. He is extremely excited when he sees the surfing neighbors doing their thing in the water. The young girl wipes out and comes up on shore, she is heading our way. I watch her warily; I don’t know how the Gunnar’s feel about their son talking to strangers, but I rebuff myself when Soren gets up and hugs the girl, “Autumn!” He shrills wrapping his arms around her legs.
“Hi Soren!” She rubs his head. “Hi, I’m Autumn Green.” She says to me.
“Babet Beauregard.” I say enthusiastically, “You have real talent.”
She rolls her eyes, “Thanks, I’m trying. My brother and cousins are much better. They’re older, so…” She trails off, typical teenager. “You are so lucky.” She says out of the blue.
“Oh?” I reply and I cup my hand over my eyes to shield them from the sun. Autumn is tall for a girl and has chestnut hair. I can barely make out the color of her eyes, but from what I can see, they are a beautiful bright hazel.
She puts her hand on her hip and shifts her weight to one side, “Yeah, working for Justus Gunnar’s father. Oh man if I was older…I don’t care what the girls around here say. He’s HOT.”
“I haven’t met him.” I say shrugging.
Autumn stands up straight like a soldier, “You haven’t…I mean you don’t know who he is?!”
“No, he comes in to town Friday.” My tone is unchanging. “Who is he?” I know a teenage girl will dish about this guy if Henley won’t.
“He’s on one of those premium channel werewolf shows my Mom won’t let me watch. He’s this really hot biker dude…” She talks on and on about Justus’ television show and I‘ve honestly never heard of it but I listen intently. She turns back to the water when she hears her name.
“Autumn! Come on!” The tallest of the four is calling her, “You can’t get any better if you don’t stay in the water!” His tone is condescendingly loud.
She rolls her eyes again, “My brother, Aaron. The other three are Landon, Deacon and Tristan Adams; they’re my cousins.” She says pointing them out. “It was nice meeting you, I better get back. Bye Soren!” She says at a higher pitch but he is too involved in his castle building.
“You keep at it, the sport needs more girls.”
“I agree!” She says wholeheartedly, turning go bound back to the water.
“It was nice to meet you too.” I call after her. I look at Soren who is sculpting a small hill, “She’s nice, huh?”
“Yes.” He says while continuing to sculpt.
I’m honestly not keeping up with the time when Henley calls Soren in for lunch from the deck, “Lunch little man!”
Soren jumps up from the sand and brushes his hands off onto his shorts and runs to the step staircase. I’m close behind him and take his hand as he places his foot on the first step. He proceeds to count again and it’s so like Henri. Boys at two are all inquisitive and talkative. Inside the house is so cold after Soren and I have been outside. I look at the clock on the wall, its 12:00 on the dot and I’m thankful to have Henley to keep me on track the first couple of days. I get the impression that Lars is less strict with Soren than Vilma but Henley is so precise I have to wonder about the other differences in the couple.
While Soren is eating his lunch I sit at the granite counter to talk to Henley, “Henley?”
“Yes Miss Babe?” He is still milling about; I assume preparing his own lunch.
“I just want to thank you for keeping me on track, I wasn't watching the time. I apologize.” I say sincerely.
He stops what he is doing, “No worries Miss Babe, I’m used to the schedule. Mr. Lars isn't nearly as punctual as Miss Vilma, but I figure it’s best to stay consistent. There’s less of a chance for me to mess up if I do. You’re new to all this, so it’s understandable on your first day.” He smiles genuinely. “Honestly this trip I don’t think Miss Vilma will be coming, Mr. Lars is taking Soren back to Sweden for their time off.”
“But they will return, right? I was told he was here until Halloween.” I ask.
“Yes, they’ll return, but I don’t think Miss Vilma will come back with them. She so wrapped up in her own projects.” He says wiping the counter; after he does he slips a plate in front of me.
“Thanks!” I say smiling at the chicken salad on a croissant with a single leaf of lettuce. “This is one of my favorite meals.”
“I know.” Henley says smiling big and bright.
I begin to get wary, my mouth is somewhat full, “What do you mean, you know?” I chew and swallow.
Henley slides me a glass of ice water, “Mr. Lars likes to keep food in the house people will eat, so your father provided him a list of your favorite foods and meals…” He trails off.
“What?” I ask; half a sandwich in hand.
“Well, he said you don’t eat much. We picked up the lightest of the foods suggested. Chicken and Tuna salad, croissants, fruit, green leaf salad with blue cheese dressing…”
I cut him off, “Okay, I get it.” I roll my eyes.
“Oh, so you do have a little attitude about you?” He says surprised.
“Yeah, I do if provoked enough.”
“That’s good, which will help you with Justus.”
I wonder why Henley is so cryptic about Lars’ older son and after Autumn’s crush-like explanation of his occupation I just know there is something there, “Like I said, he can try. How old is he anyway?”
Henley looks up to the ceiling, thinking hard, “Thirty five, thirty six; somewhere around there.”
I nearly choke on my water; Soren and Henley stare at me, “I’m okay,” I laugh, “Thirty five?!” I am moderately shocked. Why would a thirty five year old man play around with the babysitter? Meeting this cat is going to be interesting and might be quite entertaining. I smile at myself, Henley is still watching me. Soren has returned to his lunch. I straighten up and finish eating because after lunch is Soren’s nap and I can do my own thing for a little while. This time is considered Henley’s break. He leaves the house after I get Soren to lie down. I go back into my room and pull out my cell. It’s 2:00 pm before I can function uninterrupted.
I send Scarlet a text since she will be getting out of school soon and search for a local art store. I’ll need canvas if I’m to do any painting. I charge my camera battery and plug my tablet up as well. After I plug my phone into the outlet closest to the bed I find an art supply place downtown; Arrow Fine on Castle St., I search for a nearby restaurant and find Jester’s Café not far from Arrow Fine on Castle. Tomorrow I’ll take Soren on an outing. When Henley returns I’ll arrange to be out, so he doesn't have to prepare any meals for us.
I get a reply from Scarlet, “Hey Mom, how’s NC?”
I smile at my strong independent daughter, “Good, a little less humid than home. I miss you.” I type.
“Miss you too, have fun. Sleep.”
“Love u.”
“Love you.” She replies and I make a mental note to call my Daddy after sundown.
I do various researches on my phone, areas of Emerald Isle I want to paint and historical hot spots. I know a few in and around Atlantic Beach; Fort Macon for starters. The town of Beaufort and the Maritime Museum, not to mention the water front has history a plenty. I also want to go to the Morehead City Art and History Museum.
But my time off can’t come fast enough, I want so desperately to hunt Cian down, like he did me. Find him and have him wrap me in his arms, before proceeding into other things. I can’t help but laugh out loud at my sexual silliness. I calm down and hear rustling in Soren’s room, I may have woken him. I creep over to my door and crack it open, instantly I see light pouring from his door. I open mine all the way and say sweetly to him, “Hi; did you have a nice nap?”
He is standing in his door, hair disheveled and rubbing his eye. His lips are pouted and his cheeks are flushed. He doesn’t respond to my question, which I am used to. But he is quiet, which I am not used to. Henri has a tendency to take his dreams too literally and the epiphany hits me; my poor baby. Vivid dreams must run in the family.
Soren stands with his arms out for me to pick him up, I do and it’s the first time I've held him. He is the same density as Henri and his hair as I stroke it is the same silky childlike texture. Soren lays his head on my shoulder as I walk down the stairs. I peek into the kitchen on my way to the great room and see Henley has returned already preparing Soren’s snack. I turn on the TV and even though it’s not TV time, I think Soren needs a minute to wake up. It’s not fun television, it’s CSPAN. The ticker at the bottom and constant talking always keeps Henri awake; for now it seems to work for Soren.
I leave him on the couch and pad into the kitchen, “Henley.” I say and he nearly jumps out of his skin.
“Babe! You scared the shi…daylights out of me!” He is clasping his chest.
“Oh my God Henley, I am so sorry; I didn't...mean…to.” I say laughing in between words. I had done this to my Mamma a lot, creep up on her. She hates being scared; I often got a dirty look and the silent treatment for an hour. I of course never mean to, it’s something I can’t control; quiet walker.
Henley lightens up and a relived smile comes across his lips, “That’s okay Miss Babe. Whoa girl; you gave me a good shock. I didn't hear you at all.”
“I’m sorry.” My tone is sincere. “I wanted to talk to you about tomorrow.”
“What happens tomorrow?” He asks.
“I want to take Soren on an outing. I was thinking the Battleship and then downtown by the waterfront is the colonial vessel. Also there is an art store…” He cuts me off.
“Miss Babe, you don’t have to tell me where you’re going; just that you’re going.” He says professionally.
“Oh, well…okay. Soren and I will be out tomorrow, no need to prepare our meals.” I say with a fake British accent, waving my hand around like aristocracy. Henley laughs as Soren’s feet slap into the kitchen.
“Hey little man!” Henley calls, “Are you ready for your snack?”
Soren climbs into his chair, “Yes.”
Henley places a cut apple and mini squares of cheese in front of Soren who dives in immediately. Turning back to the granite counter Henley grabs a cup of milk and hands it to the eating child.
“Tan ku.” Soren says with a mouth full of cheese. He takes the cup between his two hands and gulps down half of it.
“Wow, you must have been thirsty?!” I say looking to Soren and then Henley who is mirroring my wide eyes.
Soren puts the cup down and gasps, “Yes.” He then grabs a fist full of apple.
I turn to Henley who is cleaning up his prep area, “I see you met the neighbors.” He says.
“Yeah, I met Autumn. She’s a nice kid, talented surfer too.”
“Oh yes, Autumn is a very nice girl. She takes a lot of mess from those boys. But she and her brother have a great relationship; friendly siblings for the most part. I don’t know much about the other three.”
“She said they are her cousins. Adams is their last name.”
“Oh yes, Blake Adams’s boys.”
“Blake Adams?”
“Brooke Green’s sister.” I stare at Henley; he has gone so far over my head. “Autumn and Aaron are Brooke’s kids and the other three boys are her nephews, Blake Adams is their mother, Brooke’s sister. They manage those kids’ careers; they were in Australia for the season but they returned home because Aaron was stung pretty badly by a swarm of jellyfish.”
“Yikes.” I say.
“I’m surprised he’s in the water now. He was hospitalized over there.”
I look at the clock and it’s time for Soren’s “quiet play time in his room”. He is finishing his snack and hops down from the chair. I get up and follow him to the staircase; he holds his hand out for me to help him up.
In Soren’s room the furniture is white and bright, like the rest of the house. By his spaceship bed is a small table, on it a professional black and white portrait of a beautiful blonde woman. It is a simple black back drop lit perfectly to accent her facial features which are tilted upwards. Her blonde hair is spilled over her shoulder and she is smiling happily. Even in black and white print, her eyes are definitely light blue. I pick up the frame and gaze at her face. Soren teeters over to me and says, “Moder.” Which I assume is Swedish for “mother”.
Of course this is the cherubic boy’s mother. She looks like she was carved out of cream cheese, perfect. Vilma Gunnar is not as old as her husband Lars. She looks to be a couple of years older than me; oh, there is definitely some familial drama here. I replace the frame and see that Soren is engaged in his ritualistic quiet play time. I ask if he needs me, to which he simply replies, “No.”
I leave the room and linger outside the door to make sure he’s okay then turn to go into my room. I realize this time of day is my break, but I feel like Soren’s nap time is a decent enough break. I don’t argue, so I grab my keys and linen sack I’m using for a purse, sling it over my shoulder and bound quietly down the stairs. I peek into the kitchen and tell Henley I’m leaving. He waves and I close the door behind me. I climb into my car and open my bag rested in my lap. I packed my camera after the battery was charged and my care package from home reminded me to stop at a gas station or specialty store.
The key turns in the ignition and I back carefully out of the curved driveway. Making my way down South Lumina Ave I turn left onto Sunset Ave and stop to take a picture of an architecturally strange beach house. I get back on Lumina and stop at the first gas station I come across to buy a pack of papers. Back in my car I discretely break up and roll myself a joint. I stash it in the visor and secure everything back in my bag. I drive into down town Wilmington and park where there is availability. Camera in hand I take at least two hundred and fifty pictures around Downtown. I get close to the waterfront and shoot the Battleship from there. I check my cell for the time and I have a half hour until my break is over. I quickly make it back to my car and race back to Wrightsville Beach. I bound in the door and look in the kitchen, Henley is flipping through a Men’s Health magazine.
“Quiet as a mouse, Miss Babe.” Henley says looking at his magazine.
“Thanks Henley.” I skip the stairs and fling my bag inside my door. I open Soren’s, he is playing with an alphabet puzzle. “Hey, are you ready to come downstairs?” I ask, hands on hips.
He gets up from the floor and passes me out the door. I follow him to the top step; down we go…one, two, and three…Henley is still flipping through his magazine. Soren passes to gain access to the great room as I enter the kitchen. I can see Soren from here.
“What’s for dinner?” I ask Henley like I would my Mamma.
“Well, Mr. Lars is at a studio dinner tonight and he said Soren could have pizza for dinner.” He inflects his voice so Soren can hear, it works. The little boy runs into the kitchen wide eyed and smiling ear to ear. He hugs Henley and then me before running back out of the room.
“He likes pizza.” I say as more of a statement than a question.
“What kid you know doesn't?”
I tilt my head to relent, it’s very true. I assume we’re ordering since Henley is not mercilessly kneading dough in here, flour everywhere. I smile at the thought; Henley would do that for Soren if he asked it of him. “Where are we ordering from?”
“Vito’s; Soren’s favorite.”
Henley orders the pizza, it arrives and Soren chows down. I bathe him and let him play for fifteen minutes before pulling the plug on the drain. I dry him, dress him and get him comfortable in his bed. He has pre-picked five books to read tonight. He barely makes it to 8:00 and I tuck him in. I creep to the door and turn on a dim night light by it. I slowly secure the door and walk back into my room. I grab my bag and tablet before heading downstairs. Henley is packing up to leave for the evening when I plop down on the couch.
“Well, goodnight Miss Babe. See you first thing in the morning.” He says lingering at the open door.
I look back over the couch and wave, “Goodnight Henley.”
Babet's Epiphany
Augusta Fern
http://www.amazon.com/Babets-Epiphany...
http://www.pinterest.com/augustafern/...
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