NightFall: Book One: Bloodlust Is the Cure for the Immortal Soul (10 page)

“Well, it just
so happens
,
my p
arents have been wondering when I was going to
visit them.
They finally moved to Paris. They’ve been wanting to for a few years now. They would love to see you. They ask about you often. Besides, they would never forgive me if I didn’t invite you to go. They have a huge bedroom with your name on it.” Indea’s eyes lit up with delight. “Just think. Paris.
The City of Lights.
A city for lovers.
Or for finding one.”

The waitress came to bring their iced teas they’d ordered earlier and told them to help themselves to the buffet. It was packed tonight and Indea and Simone didn’t mind having to wait on service. It gave them time to talk.

Indea and Simone headed for the bar, filling their plates to heaping while Simone thought about the tone in Indea’s voice. Indea’s intent was clear. Why not go? Simone’s never been to Paris. France was in Indea’
s
blood. Plus, her parents lived there now and in the spring, they journeyed to the states for Indea’s dad’s annual Cherokee Festival in Tennessee.

Simone beamed as they both sat down to eat. “That sounds absolutely perfect, Indea.” She
took a bite of her shrimp lo mei
n. She washed it down with some iced tea.
“And what better place for finding a French lover than in France?”

“Exactly,”
agreed Indea, dipping her sushi into some soy sauce laced with wasabi and stuffing the whole thing in her mouth.

The waitress came back to refill their iced teas and Indea and Simone toasted to their va
cation and talked of the usual
things like work, men, love and life in between going back up to the buffet for seconds and desserts.

After paying for the food and leaving a tip, Simone and Indea went outside.

“Dinner was wonderful.” Indea acknowledged outside the restaurant a few minutes later. “Thank you for asking me.” She hugged Simone then cracked a yawn. “Chinese food always makes me sleepy. I’ll
sleep like a baby tonight.”

“Me, too.
And you’re welcome about the dinner.” Simone took the keys out of her purse. “I’ll call you in a few days and let you know what the plan’s going to be for the vacation.”

“Great! Talk to you later, then.” Indea concluded before
walking to her car, a
seventies
silver Mustang. She had a thing for old cars and antiques.

They waved their good byes and went their separate ways.

*

Simone knocked on Mr. Brant’s door at work two days later. “Mr. Brant? Can I speak with you for a moment?”

Mr. Brant looked up from his papers. “Simone. Come on in. Sit down.” He pointed to her article he had been reading. “This is great, by the way.”

Simone closed the door and sat down. “Thank you.” Mr. Brant was a very nice man.
A bit portly.
Balding slightly.
His brown eyes were kind but extremely sharp. He was very dexterous and that’s why they worked well together. He had an optimistic outlook on life given that he was widowed eighteen months ago. Simone came to love Carol Brant. She had become a second mother to her when her own mother passed away. But she didn’t even know who or where her real father was. Not really. All she knew was that her mother said he was from Canterbury near London in the U.K. Simone didn’t know if she wanted to even find her dad. He left right after her mother had given birth to her. Her mother had continually sidestepped the issue of her husband every time Simone had brought up the subject.

Only on her death bed did her mother mention his last name and where he was from but not where he was at that present time. Simone wondered just how many people in Canterbury, or London for that matter, had the last name, Timms. It must be like trying to find the proverbial needle in the haystack. It was a vague description. She didn’t have that much to go on and even though she loved a good mystery, she didn’t know if she would love following the clues leading her to a man who probably never wanted to see her again or cared about her life at all.

Simone wondered if it was worth her time and energy. She wanted to visit Paris, quite honestly. She didn’t need the unwanted detour into Canterbury, knowing full well he might not even
be there or even be alive. It seemed like too
much of a waste of her precious time. She wanted to spend her tim
e with Indea and her parents, a
nd some time looking for a Frenchman. That’s one of the reasons she was going.

“What c
an I do for you, Miss Simone?”
asked Mr. Brant, scattering Simone’s thoughts to the wind for the time being.

Simone preferred that everybody who worked with her to use her first name only. She didn’t want to be referred to as her father’s child.
So, no
use of her
last name.
She
might just change it later on i
f she had the guts.

Even
her rivals respected her wishes
to omit the last name.

Probably because they knew she would knock them into next week and that Mr. Brant wanted everyone to respect everybody at his newspaper office.

“Mr. Brant, as you know I have some vacation time coming up. And normally I wouldn
‘t ask because I love my job,”
Simone explicated. “But my friend and I are planning a trip to Paris. That
is, if I get the time off. Even though it would be a vacation, I turned it over in my brain and thought I could write a small piece on the
night life in Paris and my experience there. I could even e-mail it to you the morning after.”

Mr. Brant grinned immediately. “Of course you can have your vacation, Simone. You are an exceedingly hard worker. You’re straight
forward and get the job done,”
he boasted proudly. “And you know you don’t have to work while you’re there, but I know you well….and….I know you will write something regardless of what I say.”

Simone’s smile was unstoppable. “You
do
know me, Mr. Brant. Oh, I’ll have fun but I
want
to write something so I can always carry that experience with me. I can look back on it when I’m too old to move.”

Mr. Brant chortled heartily. “You only
need to finish out this week,”
h
e studied his work calendar,
“w
hich is three more days. I want to go ahead and publish this piece you did on Mr. Hobbs before you leave.”

Simone felt confused but nodded noncommittally, her face, impassive. It
was
an odd piece to begin with and work was work but Mr. Brant was going to publish it quicker that she would’ve anticipated.

Mr. Brant looked at Simone and knew what she was thinking. “I know it seems like I’ve sent you on some sort of wild goose chase with this article but believe it or not, there are a lot of people who do believe in this. Some are downright convinced of it. As far-fetched at it may seem, I think this story of yours has the potential to hook readers from the get go. They’ll be clamoring for
more if I’m right about this,”
he predicted. “I might even make this a monthly thing and put you on it full time. You’ll manage your own articles and your name will be under every title. This baby could be all yours. I just need to know if you want it. I have a few who are drooling for a chance to sink their teeth in.” He chuckled. “No pun intended. But I’m asking you first because I really want
you
to have it.”

Simone could barely smile. She didn’t know if she wanted to continue to do stories on some loony tunes Mr. Hobbs about blood sucking creatures of the night. On the other hand, however, this could be all hers. She would be in charge, ergo, she would have her very own office because of the files she would have to keep on the subject. It seemed to Mr. Brant that as soon as this story of hers became hot off the presses, there wouldn’t be a newspaper left in sight. As Mr. Brant has said, she was an excellent storyteller and her creativeness hooked readers instantly.

But she though this was going to be an open-and-shut piece. She now questioned on whether or not her bit would become some sort of occult classic. Would it become a supernatural thriller? Maybe the newspaper would invent a whole new section to the mysterious and odd and she would be in charge. Still, she was undecided. It did sound interesting but she needed time to think on it.

“I tell you what.” Mr. Brant said, sitting back in his chair. “Let’s see how the first piece does. If it leaves our readers clamoring for more, would you seriously consider it?” He was hopeful. Simone could tell by the look in his eyes.

“Yes. I’ll think about it after this piece is in print and let you k
now before I leave for Paris,”
Simone vowed matter-of-factly.

“Great!” Mr. Brant’s voice boomed throughout his office. He got up and shook Simone’s hand. “You won’t regret it.”

Simone took his hand. She, however, wasn’t so sure.

CHAPTER VI

Simone put her carry-on in the overhead compartment. She and Indea decided to splurge and go first class. Simone always fancied the window seat. She liked looking out at the beautiful, billowy clouds and the wide open expanse of the blue sky. And today was no exception. It was perfect for flying.

Indea loved the aisl
e seats. It gave her the perfect opportunity
to flirt with the single young, attractive males.

Not that Simone could blame her. She loved to chat up all kinds of people from all walks of life. Writer’s curiosity, she supposed. It helped keep her style fresh and new.

As soon as the captain turned off the seat belt sign and told them to feel free to move about the cabin, a tall, thin stewardess wheeled her cart full of refreshments by.

“What would yo
u like to drink today, ladies?”
she asked politely.

“Two champagnes, please.”
Indea looked at Simone and shrugged.
“Why not?
We’re celebrating a Paris trip.”

Simone nodded as the stewardess poured champagne into two delicate looking flute glasses and handed them to the girls.

Indea and Simone both thanked her. The woman smiled and wheeled her cart on down the aisle, repeating the greeting.

Indea lifted her glass. “Here’s to Paris. May you find who you’re looking
for.
”

“
Hear, hear
.” Simone
took an appreciative sip, loving the way the bubbles tickled
her nose. “Just the one glass, though.
This stuff really goes to my head.”

“You’re right,”
Indea concurred. “We can’t have you out of your head, now can we?”
she
said teasingly.

They downed the rest of the champagne and the stewardess came by to take their glasses.

“So.
Tell me about this article you did.” Indea wanted to know. “From what I’d heard, it sounds intriguing.”

“Not to mention hilarious,”
Simone added, not sounding the least bit amused.

“Ahh.
Do tell.”

Simone twisted her body a little to face Indea. “Well, Mr. Brant got a call last week. It was confidential.
Very hush-hush.
So secret, in fact, that he wouldn’t even tell
me
the source.” She made a noise like she didn’t think too highly of that idea. “Any way, he called me in and asked me if I would do a supernatural story for Mr. Hobbs.
I agreed to interview him. The
kicker was that I had to do the whole thing outside in broad day light under the scorching sun.”