Irresistible Nemesis (18 page)

As Andreas ran into the kitchen to grab a broom and dustpan to clean up the mess, his phone ring. He rushed back and picked it up off the table. He stared at the display and soon, a lump formed in his throat. The number on the screen belonged to Oliver, which could only mean one thing. Eva never made it home. He let his phone ring five times in an effort to avoid the inevitable.

Andreas picked up the receiver. Before he could say anything, Oliver shouted at him.

“Put her on the phone, Kristopolous. I know she’s with you!” Andreas sighed, afraid to admit that he let Eva out of his sight.

An act almost certain to sign her death sentence. Oliver already wanted to stake him through the heart because of who and what he was. Now he’d be lucky if the man didn’t cut his body into pieces and burn them limb by limb.

“She’s not here, Polinski. We got into a fight and she left a couple of hours ago.” Andreas held the phone in one hand and rubbed the tension out of neck with the other. “I was hoping she’d gone back to BPA headquarters, but based on our conversation, I’m assuming that’s not the case.”

“You let her out of your sight? Are you bloody mad?” Oliver fumed at him. “You’ve known for some time that your father has a hit out on her life! How could you let her leave unprotected?” Andreas could hear the anger in his voice, but more than that, he sensed sincere concern emanating from the man on the other end of the telephone.

“Don’t worry. I’ll find her. If my father so much as touches a hair on her precious head, I’ll rip out his jugular and feed him to the newborns!” The vampire inside of him meant every word. Andreas was sure the psychic had already picked that certainty out of his mind.

He’d give up his name, his title, his whole life to have her back in his arms safe and sound.

“It’s true, then. You really are in love with Eva, aren’t you?” Oliver breathed steadily into the phone. His nonchalant question fed the vampire’s anxiety.

“Yes. I love her. More than life itself.” Andreas closed his eyes and let the words slip out. The unbridled emotion he kept bottled up inside for so long suddenly burst free. It was the first time he’d uttered the words aloud, to himself or anyone for that matter. “Right now, I’ve gotta find her. I’ll be in touch.” Andreas ended the conversation and headed for the elevator. He knew that time was precious and every moment Eva remained missing, the less chance he had of finding her alive.

****

Andreas slid through the open window of his Porsche, not bothering to open the driver’s side door. He flipped the ignition switch and started the engine. But before he maneuvered out of the underground parking structure in this fine piece of machinery, he needed to clear his head and come up with a plan. Without a doubt, he was headed to suburban Connecticut to confront his father at their compound at
Miravale
. He managed to avoid him for close to a week, and it was possible that in retaliation, Aristotle ordered the hit on Eva.

Andreas’s gut instinct told him his father wasn’t behind her disappearance. Nevertheless, he couldn’t quite pinpoint the reason why he felt that way. Maybe their shared blood had clouded his perception. Either way, Andreas would get to the bottom of the situation and find out exactly what the elder Kristopolous knew about his lover’s whereabouts.

If he expected his father to cooperate in the search for Eva, he’d have to remain calm and reason with him, vampire to vampire.

Aristotle may not have been the most doting husband and father, especially when it came to expressing his feelings, but Andreas knew without a doubt that he’d been head-over-heels in love with Andreas’s mother. The best way to broach the subject with the patriarch would be to be as honest as possible. To appeal to the man’s well-hidden sensitive side. He planned to gain his father’s sympathy and profess his deep and profound love for Eva. If Andreas understood anything at all about Aristotle, it was his weakness for classical literature.

While he didn’t like to admit it, his own literary fondness had spawned from the elder’s loins. If his suspicions were accurate, the
Romeo and Juliet
star-crossed lover approach might just works on the man who’d helped bring him forth into this world.

Andreas’s plan wasn’t fool-proof, but it was a good start. The hard part would be to keep his anger in check and pray that sincerity would allow him to weasel himself into his father’s heart of stone. He pulled into the roundabout in front of the mansion, not about to waste time parking his car in one of the stalls in the ten-car garage. Leaving his keys in the ignition, he sauntered into the house. His demeanor calm and steady. But before he could make it past the first step on the marble staircase, Aristotle hobbled forward, his gold-tipped cane aimed at Andreas.

“Son, where have you been?” A tinge of annoyance evident in his tone. “I’ve left message after message without a single reply.

While I hope that is not the case, your lack of response leads me to believe that you’ve been avoiding him.” Andreas expected his father’s unabashed scolding. But instead of contempt, he swore he saw compassion reflected in the old man’s eyes.

“I’m sorry, Father. I know I should have confided in you sooner. But I needed time to sort things out on my own.” Andreas lowered his head with humility. “I’ve come to some pretty frightening realizations in the past few weeks, and I’ve been reluctant to share them with anyone.” Andreas found it difficult to share his feelings with his father. Growing up, glimpses of emotion from his father were few and far between. A heart-to-heart between the two men long overdue.

“I know I haven’t been the best father.” Aristotle said as he stared at his hands to avoid eye contact. After a tense moment of silence, he looked up at his son. “I have a tendency to close myself off to that which is too painful to endure. But please, Andreas, tell me.

What weighs on you so heavily?” Andreas looked sideways at his father, trying to decide whether or not it was all an act.

“First, let me get one question out of the way.” Andreas rubbed his temple, hesitant to say too much. “Do you know anything about the huntress’s disappearance? Have you done anything to harm her, Father?” Andreas didn’t want to ask and he sure as hell wasn’t sure he wanted to hear the answer. Nonetheless, he had to know.

“She’s disappeared?” Aristotle asked. Worry lines etched into the folds of his furrowed brow. “Honestly, I had nothing to do with it.

In fact, I didn’t even know she was missing. You may not have said it in so many words, but I can see you’ve developed strong feelings for this woman. Because of that reason, I could never harm her.” Andreas released a much-needed sigh of relief. Maybe his father wasn’t the monster he always made him out to be. “Thank you for saying that, Father. It’s not easy to admit, but yes, I think I’m falling for her. She’s all I ever think about.” Andreas smoothed a hand through his mussed-up mop of hair. He paced the room. His loud, impatient steps drowned out the negative thoughts swirling around in his head. If Aristotle hadn’t abducted Eva, where in the hell could she be? To find out, he would take advantage of his father’s close relationship with the coven’s board of trustees. He needed their far-reaching connections to the seedier members of the city’s vampire population in order to come up with any solid leads on Eva’s captors.

“Give me two hours, and I’ll find out who took her and where she’s being held.” Lucky for Andreas, his father had the power to make mountains move. With a few calls to Aristotle’s well-placed friends, Eva’s chances of making it out alive skyrocketed from impossible to slim.

“Do you mind if I follow you upstairs?” Andreas winced as he asked. He knew how much his father valued the sanctity of his private domain. “There’s something else I wish to discuss with you.” Aristotle squinted. His bewildered expression honed in on the source of his son’s distress. In the end, the old man nodded and motioned for Andreas to accompany him to his office.

****

Once upstairs, Andreas sat across from his father and fidgeted in his chair. He didn’t know what the hell had set him off earlier that evening, prompting him to lash out at Eva and almost squeeze her last breath of life right out of her. How could he possibly explain what transpired between the two of them to the normally-judgmental patriarch of the family?

“Out with it!” Aristotle shouted. As usual, he let his typical, abrasive personality shine through.

Andreas nodded. Nervousness twisted his gut into a bundle of knots. “Something unusual happened earlier tonight while Eva and I were
together
, if you know what I mean.” Andreas made his intent clear as he enunciated the word “together” in an unmistakably clear sexual reference. He proceeded to fill in Aristotle on how Eva had surprised him while he slept. She tied him up and seduced him in a passionate, sexually-charged liaison in which he was more than willing to take part. The conversation remained tensed and awkward.

Talking sex with his father wasn’t one of his favorite pastimes.

Admitting he came close to killing the woman he loved in the throws a surreal cataclysmic orgasm was like riding bareback without a saddle. A bumpy, ball-busting experience.

“This reaction is common among newly-turned vampires and pure bloods just coming into their powers. In contrast, the fact that you came so close to losing control is surprising for a vampire of your age and experience.” Aristotle tapped his finger on his chin and cocked his head to the side as if in contemplation. “Tell me more about your orgasm. Was it very different from your everyday, run-of-the-mill happy ending?” His father chuckled. His cheeks flushed red.

Andreas wasn’t used to his father’s candid choice of words, particularly in the midst of a discussion about sex.

“Now that you mention it, yes. It was very unusual compared to the sexual experiences I’ve had with other women. The pleasure and pain combined became overpowering. Unbearable in its intensity.” Andreas averted his gaze, a bit embarrassed. He purposefully avoided these types of frank conversations with Aristotle at all costs. “But the worst part is that she came to me of her own free will to share one, last incredible night of passion. In return, I tried to strangle her to death. Father, if I had hurt her, I would have never been able to forgive myself.”

Andreas watched as his predecessor rubbed a thumb across his temple. His father stared out the window. He seemed to ponder everything he just heard. Several moments passed in silence as he waited for his father to say something. Anything. He knew what a despicable monster he’d become and simply waited to be put out of his misery.

The old man remained silent, which drove Andreas even more insane with worry. He reached for his cane. With slow, deliberate steps, Aristotle made his way across the hall toward the library positioned adjacent to his office. Andreas followed, not bothering to question where they headed. The ornately-decorated room was filled with wall-to-wall books from floor to ceiling. From classic literary works to historical and mythical tomes on the rise and fall of the world’s powers. The library contained one of the largest collections of rare and one-of-a-kind books ever assembled. Invaluable resources handed down from generation to generation to the leaders of the coven over thousands of years. In addition to priceless volumes of literature, the room housed furnishings that were no doubt antiques, worth hundreds of thousands of dollars or more. The old man perused the shelves for several minutes, before he finally pulled a dusty, old hardcover with a faded grey book jacket and pages etched in gold leaf.

Aristotle blew dust off the front cover of the book and opened it up to the table of contents. Andreas watched as his father used his index finger to scan the subcategories. His finger moved across the page, back and forth over several lines of text before coming to halt.

He pointed to the section entitled “Thy One,” tucked away on page 783. His father thumbed through the book until he came to the section he was looking for. Then he peered up at his heir and muttered two simple words.

“Read this.”

Andreas stared at his father momentarily, trying to comprehend what the hell this was all about. Then he agreed and began to decipher the outdated English verbiage.

Through turmoil and strife, thou shalt unite; Good and evil, dark and light.

Warriors honed in battle, bred to kill

Doth hast no greater clash of wills;

With orbs of crimson shining bright,

A black heart trapped inconspicuous,

Ensnared in a lover’s inherent kiss.

Virtue and malevolence shall ignite

A burning fire forged from thy abyss,

With affection shall his soul reclaim.

Amid passion thy loins doth consume and burn.

Whilst thou extinguish thy fair ladies’ flame?

Through tribulations, thou shalt reveal,

Thy true and most revered resolve.

For no greater rapture doth seal,

Thy mending of hearts and mingling of blood.

Bring forth Thy One in the name of salvation, Intertwining fates in reconciliation.

After he read the words aloud, Andreas turned the book over and re-read the title.
Vampyre: A History of Our People
. Frowning and confused, he looked to Aristotle for clarity.

“This appears to be some sort of ancient vampire encyclopedia written in prose. It’s obviously a tale of two doomed lovers. Very fitting.” Andreas mulled over the antiquated language of the poem, trying to analyze the disjointed structure of its verse. “I can see its significance in relation to Eva and myself. But in terms of our current predicament, I don’t quite understand how all of this is connected.” Andreas’s father had practice finding the hidden meaning in obscure texts. The experience of living more than a thousand years helped, too. He grinned at his son and repeated two lines of the sonnet.

“‘Amid passion thy loins doth consume and burn. Whilst thou extinguish thy fair ladies’ flame?’” Aristotle read the words aloud once again. “What does this part of the stanza mean to you?” The wheels in Andreas’s head began to spin and then, it came to him. “It can’t be. Does the poem allude to a vampire on the verge of killing his human lover while engaged in the pleasures of the flesh?”