The Vampire's Seduction (41 page)

Man? I looked into the mirror, expecting just for a split second to see myself. Of course, there was no one there. I was not a man, did not possess the nature of a man, not anymore. I was a vampire. As William often said, sometimes I forgot that. I tried to have it both ways, with one foot in the world of humans and the other in our altered world, the world of eternal darkness. Maybe it was time to stop straddling the fence.

I remembered then that I had to get the king’s ransom from Melaphia’s precious subterranean altars. I slipped out of the closet and through the secret back door of the bedroom, taking the stairs downward to the darkness of the vault two at a time.

The weather and the moon seemed to have gotten the message to cooperate with William’s shindig, or else. The night was cool but not cold and only a few clouds floated in the fall sky. The full hunter’s moon hung like a fat party lantern, illuminating the courtyard of the Hamilton House along with twinkling man-made lights in the trees. Candles flickered on fine white tablecloths as white-shirted waiters circulated through the crowd. A string quartet, set up in one corner of the main ballroom, played softly—that kind of namby-pamby music William loved. Other than wishing for a little George Thorogood or even Tim McGraw, I felt the evening was going pretty well so far.

I’d taken my appointed place at the front door to greet the swells; Melaphia was a short ways away overseeing the help. I imagined she was also on the lookout for William.

“Hey, how y’all doing? How’s your mama and them?” I pumped the hand of a stockbroker in a reasonable copy of a Confederate officer’s uniform—the main anachronism being its lack of wear and dirt. After the first day of enlistment, I don’t think I ever saw a clean or new-looking Sesesh uniform, officer’s or otherwise. Losing a war has a way of roughing things up, both clothes and people. But then, this wasn’t war. It was retro. The stockbroker’s blond trophy wife gave me a semi-curtsy in her hoopskirts and a little wink from behind the vintage fan.

“Very well, thanks,” the stockbroker replied. “Mother speaks highly of your front-end alignments. With all the curbs she runs over, I expect she brings her Caddy in pretty often.”

“That she does. She’s one of my favorite customers.”

“Good. Good. Fantastic party. I’m sure y’all will make a lot of money for that new wing of the hospital.”

“Thanks. I certainly hope so. The cornerstone is set to go in.” I knew William’s plans for the new wing included a new and improved blood bank. My mouth watered a little just thinking about it. In the past few days I’d rediscovered my taste for human blood. I also felt myself longing for the hunt again. It had been a long time.

“Tell me, Jack, where’s William tonight, anyway?”

“The last I saw him, he was kind of weighed down. With work, you know. But we’re expecting him to break free and join us any time now. In the meantime, I’m your host. The bar is right over there, so make yourselves at home.” I clapped him on the back and headed him toward the hard liquor. Forget the sissy-boys passing out champagne. His wife followed, bringing her fist to her ear, thumb and pinky extended in the universal “call me” gesture. I gave her a nod and a little wave.

I’d had my fun with rich, bored society housewives, but they usually made me go out the servants’ entrance, and not just because they didn’t want to raise suspicions of an affair. They appreciated my talents in bed but wouldn’t be seen rubbing elbows with me in public unless they came to the shop to pretend to talk about a car problem. Suddenly it seemed I was good enough to flirt with not only in public but at a high-falutin’ soirée to boot. Wasn’t that a fine howdy-do?

I was surprised at how comfortable I was with the society types once I changed my attitude. Maybe it wasn’t them being uppity all these years that made them seem intimidating, but rather my own low opinion of myself, courtesy of my real human daddy. The man who predicted my future with the words “You ain’t worth a half-cent copper.” It seemed as if my insecurities had disappeared now that I was finally thinking straight after decades of being under the thumb of William, my vampire daddy. When I’d put on his clothes in his inner sanctum, it was as if I’d put on part of his power at the same time. Changing had been so easy. What else could I accomplish if I just set my mind to it?

Melaphia sauntered over in a traditional African ensemble, the kind black people used to wear in the sixties and seventies when “getting back to your roots” was fashionable. The colorful dashiki, matching headdress, and trade beads made her look like the African princess she was. She hadn’t forgotten her voodoo blue, either—she wore a sky blue scarf tied around her neck. She was looking at me shrewdly, as if trying to figure out something.

“You seem to be the host with the most tonight. And here I thought you were dreading the social scene.”

“Oh, well, you know. I can rise to the occasion as well as the next guy.” I scanned the room, which was rapidly filling up with well-dressed socialites. Nothing but the best. Some of those retro designer outfits must’ve cost a pretty penny, even on eBay. I took another swig of my drink, which to the casual observer looked to be no more than a standard Bloody Mary. Little did they know how bloody it really was.

“Why can’t I read you, Jack? Tonight of all nights, why can’t I tell where your head is at?”

Probably ’cause I didn’t know myself. I returned her level gaze. “Beats me.”

“What are you not telling me, damn you?”

She said she couldn’t read me, but the truth was that she just couldn’t bear to admit what she knew: that I might actually break away from William.

After a quick greeting at the door, I’d deliberately avoided Iban, Tobey, and Gerard, who were scattered about the room, mixing and mingling easily with the other guests. I didn’t want them to interfere when the time came to make my move. Whatever that move would be. Anticipation hummed inside me. A sea change was coming for old Jack. Tonight would be the first night of the rest of my life.

William

Even the undead have defining moments. Moments when the disparate
what if
s and
should have
s of half a millennium collide in one shocking instant.

This was one of those times for me. After my seemingly endless captivity, I was nearly overwhelmed by sensations, not the least of which was breathing the free air again. Wearing my own clothes felt luxurious. My old British naval uniform reminded me of England and home, of men in deadly earnest, of the storm-tossed ocean waves racing the moon.

There are few places, however, more beautiful than Bonaventure under a full moon. The lovely forest of artful stone built to honor the dead came to life when illuminated by light and shadow, reminding living souls of their rich lineage and of their final destination: peace. (What went on underground notwithstanding.) All in all, the old cemetery offered a place of reflection and calm among the daily breakneck pace of the living. But on All Saints’ the place was transformed. From the worms in the sandy soil to the Spanish moss in the tops of the trees, many things besides us vampires were stirring in the moonlight.

Several buzzing trickster spirits circled around us like curious mosquitos. One of them kept tapping my sire on his shoulder, staying just out of reach when Reedrek turned to brush him off. Another maintained an ear-blistering stream of curses worthy of a victim of Tourette’s. Knots of ghostly onlookers floated in the distance watching the show.

“Why did you leave the automobile at the gates?” Reedrek demanded, sounding peeved.

Werm, rather subdued after his trip across town to retrieve my clothes, looked confused. “They were locked,” he answered.

“Don’t be a fool, you’re a vampire! No gate can shut you out! Why didn’t you drive through them?”

“And dent my mom’s Escalade? No way, man. She’d kill me.”

Judging by the look Reedrek aimed at our new offspring, he might kill Werm out of sheer annoyance. I’d felt that way with Jack on many occasions.

The closer we got to the gates, the fewer spirits showed themselves. They took to the trees, faded into headstones, evaporated. Ahead I could see the reason why. There were groups of the living with flashlights, candles, and pumpkin lanterns on the sidewalk outside the wrought-iron fence. Trick-or-treaters mixed with curious teenagers and protective adults. Most of them probably thinking they wanted to see a ghost. It was Halloween, after all. The modern human version of All Saints’. In medieval times anyone wearing a mask and banging on doors would have been burned at the stake. Mutilating a perfectly good pumpkin—if we’d had them in Europe then—would have been heresy.

Seeing the younger ones daring one another to climb the fence reminded me of my Will teasing his mother from a tree limb.
I won’t fall.
Diana and I hadn’t known then that a tumble from a tree was the least of our future concerns. In the lull before the storm to come, I couldn’t resist taunting Reedrek.

“I know now that you didn’t kill Will,” I said, looking sideways at him.

A curious mix of surprise and—something I didn’t expect—mirth crossed his features. “Oh, really?” he said, recovering his sarcastic stance. “And how would you know that?”

I shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. He lived. I might even have kin of my true blood somewhere in the world.” I smiled my best mocking smile. “You didn’t manage to destroy us all.”

“Hey look! Ghosts!” someone shouted. We were close enough to be seen.

Werm, getting into the spirit, charged the fence. “Boooooo!” he bellowed.

Most of the crowd drew back in response, just in case. A few of them shouted back. “Boo yourself, you asshole!”

They quieted down as they watched us scale the fence, instinctively backing away.

“Hey, who are you guys?”

“We’re vampires,” Reedrek said with a toothy grin. “We’ve come to suuuuck your bloooood.” With that, he shoved Werm toward the driver’s side of his mother’s automobile and opened the passenger-side door for me.

“I don’t suppose any of you would happen to have a stout wooden stake handy, would you?” I asked the humans.

No one answered.

“After you,” Reedrek said, making sure I went along for the ride.

The crowd gave us a round of applause as we pulled away.

Jack

“Ja-ack.” Melaphia refused to give up. She sounded even more suspicious.

“Your imagination is running away with you,” I lied. “William will be here soon, and then it’ll all be . . . over.”

She took a breath to reply, but it caught in her throat. I followed the direction of her stricken look. Renee had just walked through the double doors of the ballroom, looking small and vulnerable in her Catholic school uniform and white ankle socks. Melaphia and I met her in the middle of the room, and Mel grabbed her by the upper arms.

“What is wrong with you, child? How did you get here?” Melaphia was trying to keep her voice down because of the crowd, but the pitch rose in anger.

“I took the bus from the Greyhound station on Montgomery Street.”

“You made your way here from Brunswick on your own?” I bent down so I was on her level. “By yourself? At night? You were supposed to stay with your aunt.”

“You have pulled some crazy stunts in your time, you little rascal, but this takes the cake!” Melaphia railed at Renee. The child was as headstrong as she was precocious. If things weren’t so dire, I would have laughed, remembering the day I told a tiny, glaring Melaphia that she would someday be paid back for own transgressions. Mel wound up her tirade by demanding, “Why would you do such a crazy thing?”

Renee crossed her arms over her narrow chest in the same gesture of mule-headed stubbornness I had seen her mother and grandmother make countless times. “There’s going to be trouble. I can feel it.”

Melaphia gasped and I straightened back to my full height. “And just what do you think you’re going to do about it?” I looked around to see if anyone was in earshot. “Except get in the way?”

Renee balled up her little fists and said, “I’m not going to stay with crazy old auntie in silly old Brunswick when all y’all are fightin’ something dangerous.”

“Who said anything about a fight?” Melaphia glared at me.

“Not me,” I said.

The truth was, I didn’t know what was going to happen. Exactly. Best case, once Reedrek had what he wanted—the voodoo blood—there would be no reason for him to cause any more trouble. Sure, William had said Reedrek couldn’t be trusted, but that was probably because he was afraid of losing me as a flunky. I figured I could talk Reedrek into leaving everybody else alone, including William. Still, I didn’t particularly want Melaphia and Renee to witness whatever went down.

“Listen,” I said, setting my empty glass down on a tray stand. “I think the two of you should go on back to the house and wait.”

“So there
is
going to be a fight!” Renee declared.

“Speak up. I don’t think everybody heard you,” I hissed. I glanced around to see if anyone was staring and looked right into the eyes of Connie Jones.

“What’s this about a fight? Do I need to get out my gun?” Connie smiled, and my long-dead heart did a flip-flop.

I took her in all at once, and then allowed myself a long, thorough look, starting with her gold strappy sandals and long skirt of gauzy off-white material shot through with gold threads. Above her small waist was a tight bodice with a gleaming brass breastplate. And above that were, well, breasts, cleavage, however you wanted to say it. The best view of Connie’s I’d ever gotten outside my dreams. The real things were even better. But as much as I’d have liked to linger on her bosom, I couldn’t help but stare at her face. She never used much makeup, and I liked that, but tonight she wore dark eyeliner that made her look like an Aztec or Inca goddess straight out of a picture book. I felt myself gaping.

And so, I noticed, were Melaphia and Renee. I found my voice in time to make introductions before the silence became awkward. “Ladies, this is my friend Consuela Jones. She’s a cop. Connie, this is Melaphia and her daughter, Renee. They’re family.”