Adduné - the Vampire's Game (59 page)

She was uncomfortable with making the decision to stay. It was as if she were at the entrance to a dark cave, whose contents were a mystery, with only a pack of matches in her hand. Would she be brave enough to continue no matter what danger lurked in the hidden walls of stone? Could she continue on an adventure that could end at any moment by any number of creatures awaiting her entrance into the inner sanctum? Being in the dark could prove fatal to her. It could also fill in the rest of the story and give her a clearer picture of what had happened. The information could be like lightning bugs she snatched out of the air and kept in a jar. While each bit was insignificant, once the jar was filled it would mean illumination.

Miranda reached her decision. She bent down and used the tassel to pull back her purse’s zippered closure. She pulled out the Koers’ appraisal and threw it on the table. Stroker eyed it with a mix of wonder and apprehension. His hand hovered in the air before he pulled it safely to him and began to examine it.

The waiter took their dinner orders and brought another bottle of wine. Miranda absent-mindedly drank as Stroker inspected the document. She was no longer as angry or as anxious as she realized she owed Reginald an apology. One part of what he’d tried to say had been the truth and she had willfully ignored him. She knew it was partly pride, and partly that the outlandish parts of his story had made her resistant to what he’d said. She’d almost followed suit and done the same thing with Stroker. She was glad she hadn’t. The sooner she learned what she needed to know, the sooner the pieces would fall into place.

She wondered how to make the Addunés whole? Of course, she’d return the egg to them. It was obviously theirs. She just needed to know if she should do it through a third-party. It wasn’t generally her style – Miranda liked to handle things head-on, but this might call for a different approach. The third-party would have to be someone very circumspect and very honorable. Someone exactly like Reginald Charles. Opening up the negotiations could mean that the antique’s community would get wind of this. She didn’t want that. Reginald would know just how to handle it, if and when she decided to go that route.

Their waiter served their first course. Miranda picked at her salad.

“
Yes, this is it. When did you find out about the theft and deception?”

“
For sure? Just this second,” Miranda said being as honest as she’d ever been in her life. “I only received the appraisal this morning. I saw straight off that the pictures of the mark were of another item. Here,” she said dragging out her cell phone and showing him the photos.” Here are photos of the real mark that I took before I left Fairfield. It’s on exhibit, you know.”

Stroker took a few sips of the gazpacho before him.

“
But if you didn’t know before now, how did you know to ask about an appraisal?”

Miranda edited the true story in her head before proceeding. She had no intention of revealing everything. Yes, she owed him something for being forthcoming, but she still didn’t have a clue as to who he really was – and, of course, there was that part they hadn’t touched on. He still hadn’t explained the reason for his peculiar occupation.

“
Well, that came about approximately last month. My attorney and I were going over my father’s inventory – readying things for the exhibit I just spoke about. I spotted the egg immediately. It stood out amongst the rather mediocre other collection pieces. I suppose they are part of what was stolen so I don’t mean to denigrate them. They are very nice, but this is a masterpiece.”

“
It is indeed. You have a good eye, Mademoiselle.”

Miranda took another swallow of wine and wiped the beads of perspiration off her upper lip.

“
When I asked Reginald, my attorney, about it, he said it wasn’t real. I questioned that pronouncement and he told me I was wrong and that it had tricked my father as well. He said he had the appraisal to prove it.”

“
And he had no knowledge of how it was acquired?”

“
None. I believe he said father had acquired it on one of his numerous antique hunts. Reginald never accompanied him on these excursions. As I got older, I did occasionally, but on most, no one was privy to what he did as they were often spontaneous.”

She was satisfied that she’d left Reginald out of things. There was no reason for Stroker to know that Reginald had any involvement beyond being retained to handle legal issues. She leveled her eyes and continued pushing her half-eaten salad away.

“
Now who is this family – the Addunés? You refer to them as
they
, so how many are there? And what did you mean that the property was seemingly abandoned? Were they living there or not? And how could my father have spirited off the contents of the house if it were being inhabited? Were they on an extended vacation? Was it a second home?”

Stroker regarded her over his last spoonful of the cold summer soup. He smiled as he rested his spoon indicating he was done.

“
You ask many pertinent questions which I will endeavor to answer. It is good you are curious, but not enough. For this characteristic to be quenched, you must also believe.”

Their dishes were rapidly cleared as the entrée was laid before them. Stroker and Miranda patiently waited until the server was out of earshot. Once he was, Stroker began his explanation.

“
What was your first question? Ah, yes, who are the Addunés. It’s an interesting subject you raise. Many people have tried to discover the truth only to dismiss where the evidence leads them. You remember my card?”

Miranda fingered the card she’d placed in her pocket.

“
Of course, I remember it.”

“
Yes, you were almost set to run from the lunatic that would possess such delusions.”

“
Touché, but that doesn’t tell me anything.”

“
Let me rephrase what I so poorly tried to convey. Vampires are my business. They are how I make a living – a very good living, by the way. Yes, I’m aware it’s a joke to people such as yourself.” he recited good-naturedly as he partook of more wine.

“
I guess I’m not getting the humor, but then I’m English.”

Miranda was tired of this endless chase. She wanted him to be blunt, but she’d ruined that opportunity with her initial reaction. It was understandable that he was taking his time and meandering about the terrain.

Stroker’s smile remained.

“
I don’t expect you to find it amusing for vampires are a very serious business.”

Stroker held a knife in one hand and a fork in the other. Both were upright, his hands raised. His eyes had become steely and a look of craftiness lurked inside. It was an insidious look that held intelligence, force, and unreasoned combativeness. It told of an almost military type of acumen – the kind of man that could plan campaigns to annihilate the enemy, and possess the fortitude to accomplish the goal set.

He crossed his knife and fork over his roast halibut in too slow a motion. While it was only a cutting motion, the slow nature of it gave the impression it was ritualistic in nature. He sawed through a tender morsel and speared it with his knife raising it to his lips. The candle on the table caused flashes of light to reflect off his eyes. The sparks that glittered seemed to come from an internal combustion – as if even mentally contemplating these mythical creatures set off a frenzied chain reaction.

“
These creatures are dark and dangerous. You have to track them very carefully or you will find that you are the one that is being hunted. My life is devoted to their destruction as was my father’s. He died at their accursed hands and I vowed I would carry on his life’s work. He died because he was too good at his job. The cowards grouped together and killed him – my mother, also.”

“
Killed? Yes, you did mention that you were raised in an orphanage, didn’t you?”

“
Yes, I was placed there.”

“
And they murdered your mother?”

“
Yes.”

“
But why? Was she involved in your father’s business?”

“
No, it was entirely retaliatory and held no purpose except revenge. I was out of the house at the time. She had sent me out to run an errand. I came home with the milk to find them dead. It’s how I came to be an orphan. I often wonder what would have happened had I been home. Would they have spared me or torn me to shreds as they did my parents? It goes unanswered and is pointless to continue to ask, but I do.”

“
It’s understandable,” Miranda comforted quietly.

She had been too harsh in her judgments. If his family believed vampires existed, then naturally their child would. Especially if they had been murdered in such a callous way. It was easier for a child to believe it was vampires rather than the truth of a savage stranger or acquaintance accomplishing the deed.

Miranda took another bite of her grilled salmon and chewed, pondering the theoretical aspects of how we establish our belief systems. Was the reason she didn’t believe in such creatures as vampires because of her parents? Or was the judgment her own?

“
You’re very kind, Mademoiselle. You attempt to understand what you cannot. It is noteworthy, but not enough I’m afraid. As for my father, because of this deed I have never forgotten any of his words about these predators. I’ve made it my business to remember everything. He stated on many occasions that they were his sworn enemy. He urged me to proudly carry on the tradition of fighting them. Their deaths were the turning point in my young life that pointed me to my future career.

I don’t know when or where vampires became legend rather than fact, but it happened over time – over centuries. Personally, I think it was they themselves that devised the tactic. For the ploy of their non-existence allowed them complete anonymity and freedom for even if seen, whom could you tell? Who would believe you? It wasn’t always so. In other centuries, they’ve been hunted to the verge of extinction. Perhaps that’s how they came up with creating this myth. The ruse is clever and a fine example of their cunning, but I give it no praise for I give the devil no due.”

Stroker leaned forward holding his hands on either side of his plate. The silver utensils flashed in the candlelight as a knight holding a sword. The ravaged carcass on his plate reminded her that even humans could devour flesh without shame.

“
Mademoiselle, this is what the Addunés are – vampires. You ask me what they are and I tell you. I tell you they are treacherous. They are relentless. They are everything contained in your worst nightmares and more. Imagine being trapped in a cave with thousands of rabid bats ravaging your body and it still is insufficient imagery to convey their terror. It is a horror to encounter one. You can forget other things, but not the travesty of a creature that is not human – not animal, not anything that should exist and yet does. They live in the dark and feed off us. Our blood is what keeps them alive and they drink of it as they will. They are why I exist since I kill them in return for what they did to my parents and to prevent more innocent lives to be sacrificed to sustain such an unholy mockery. It is my life’s work not just because of my father and mother, but because that hatred is in my blood – it makes it boil.

They are deceivers, Mademoiselle. They walk among us. Oh, do not believe for a second the ridiculous stories you’ve heard because they can well be seen in the day. They are not at full power in the daytime and so they select the night to reign supreme. It is in the day you must strike if you are to succeed for at night, they are unconquerable … or so they think! ”

He paused to wink and laugh deeply as if enjoying their delusion. Perhaps he imagined it gave him an advantage for them to be so self-deceived. Miranda was more worried about his delusion. She concluded that’s all this talk was – self-delusion of the worst kind. He seemed so sure and was so wrong. She reminded herself he was a victim. He had become one as a child and had made up lies to keep from falling apart. While she wanted to pounce all over this nonsense, his knowledge held her back. It was to her benefit to do so since there were grains of truth scattered in-between the sordid fantasy.

Stroker leaned back in his chair giving a quick wipe to his mouth with his napkin to remove anything offensive. He replaced the napkin in his lap and placed his hands on either side of the table. He reached for the bottle of wine and refilled his glass to the top. He saluted Miranda and drank his fill. She decided not to wake the somnambulist. Let that come in its own time and place.

“
It sounds like you’ve done battle and won. Do you have a secret?”

“
The secret is that they are not as invincible as they think. It’s mostly fear that they use to control us. Fear is the weapon that is most effective and most powerful. Oh, yes, they are stronger than one thousand men at night, and yet, there are ways to ….
contain
them.”