The Chalice (Luna Vampire Series) (6 page)

             
"I thought you desired the peace and quiet," he taunted in a real cutesy wootsy voice.

             
"Oh, come on!  Just let me out!" I yelled, resentment hanging on every syllable.  "I held up my end of the bargain, now you hold up yours."

             
"I've kept my word, child.  I told you that after you drank from the chalice you'd have the tools to be able to leave the changing room.  And that you do."  He delayed a moment for dramatic effect before continuing with added sarcasm.  "You
can
see the ladder,
can you not
?"

             
"Of course I see the ladder.  But how in the hell am I supposed to reach it?  I can barely reach the ledge and the ladder is considerably higher than that."

             
He sighed.  "It's very straightforward, child.  All you have to do is jump."

             
"I can't jump that high," I screamed, motioning at the ladder fiercely.  "Two feet, maybe, but not five."

             
"With your transformation complete, you can travel distances much greater than a mere five feet.  Why don't you give it a try?"

             
"There's no way I can get up there on my own!  You're such a liar!  You swore you'd free me.  Even so, now you're changing the rules, giving me an impossible task, and playing more of your stupid games.  At this rate, I'll rot in this place."
What bullshit!

             
"I'm a man of honor.  If you go for the ladder and don't make it, I'll lower a rope.  I promise you that, regardless of the outcome, you'll be liberated from the pit.  Nevertheless, you must humor me first by trying to reach it on your own."

             
I'd grown so sick of arguing that I defiantly shut my mouth, stomped to the furthest point in the room, ran at full speed, then leaped with all my strength.
  And the events that followed truly astonished me. 
Not only did I reach the ladder, I ended up grabbing onto a rung that was over halfway up.
  I must've jumped over ten feet!

Chapter
5

             
I briskly ascended the steps of the ladder, eagerly craving my freedom.  Arriving at the top, my efforts were met by a warm hand that politely provided assistance in a way reminiscent of the olden days.  And, at long last, I finally got my chance take a peek at the old man.

             
As it turns out, he wasn't really that old of a man.  In fact, he only appeared to be around fifty, maybe fifty-five.  And his features were incredibly striking. 
Well, for men his age, that is.
  The gray at his temples complemented his shoulder length brown hair perfectly, while the fine lines surrounding his eyes and mouth exuded sophistication. 

             
He stood a couple inches taller than me, which made him nearly six feet tall, and he wore an exquisite black suit.  It reminded me of the kind of thing William would wear into the club.  However, the old guy didn't sport a tie and his diamond cufflinks were extra flashy.  All in all, he looked like a million bucks.

             
"I must properly introduce myself," he announced haughtily as he stepped back into a deep bow.  "I'm Tsedaka the Righteous, King of the United States."  Then he rose to finish his introduction with a knowing twinkle in his eye.  "I'm also your father."

             
"Are you on crack?" I asked, scrunching my forehead in true wonderment.
  Seriously, these people were crazy, looney fucking tunes.

             
And that's when he started laughing.  I responded with an irritated glare, thoroughly disgusted by his boisterous display.  Ultimately, he did regain his composure though. 
Thank god.
It just took him quite awhile. 
Sigh.

             
"Oh, my!  I haven't had this much fun in years, perhaps a few centuries," he howled, pausing to chuckle again.  "You're making my ribs ache, child.  The expression on your face, it's so funny!  And your thoughts..." He trailed off into another extended cackling session. 
Yeah, really
cackling.  I half wondered if the maniac was gonna collapse onto the floor.

             
"At least somebody's having a good time," I grumped.  "For real, I know you're not the king of the United States because we have a president.  You're a white guy; he's a black guy.  Likewise, you can't be my father.  His name was Peter Smith, not Tsedaka
whatever your last name is
.  So, yeah, you can't be him."

             
"I am your father, Luna, and I've told you the truth regarding my station.  As for my last name, well, my kind doesn't find last names to be particularly useful since we change them every decade or so.  You see, Peter Smith was merely one of my assumed identities.  I utilized it during my liaison with your mother those twenty-four years ago." 

             
Abruptly, he motioned toward the ceiling of the cavernous room and to a row of candles positioned atop a ledge encircling it.  There were thousands of them, each one lighting the second he pointed in its direction.  The otherworldly melding of instantaneous combustion and flickering light was breathtaking, magical even.

             
Consequently, I gawked around the now well-lit space in a state of bewildered shock. 
Jaw slack, eyes the size of golf balls.
  The room, larger than a parking lot, ran about three semi trucks long and ten semi trucks wide. 
No wonder sound echoed.
And it was built entirely of cement, exactly the same as my cell.  However, in contrast, this room's walls were painted white and kept extremely clean.  Additionally, dozens of Persian rugs and tapestries gave it a classy feel.

             
A large chair, oddly resembling a throne, rested smack dab in the middle of the stage at the far end. 
It couldn't have been an actual throne, could it?
 
Well, with these crazies it just might be
.  And with that thought, I had to suck in a deep breath to avoid the beginnings of giggles.  Seriously, it looked as if it was a prop straight out of an Elizabethan movie. 
Strange, pure and simple.

             
In fact,
too many
things were strange.
I mean, how had he gotten all those candles to light simultaneously? 
It seemed far too authentic to be an illusion caused by a few strands of electric lights on a timer. 
And how did he keep reading my mind?
Telepathy doesn't exist, yet nobody on this planet can make that number of lucky guesses. 
Plus, how'd I jump so high?  And the night vision?
 
Could some paranormal shit really explain all this?  Nah
.  I shook my head in frustration.
Maybe he was another David Blaine or Chris Angel.  Either way, hella bizarre.

             
"I hope my home pleases you, considering you'll be inheriting it," he mused, nonchalantly strolling over to the wall and flipping a switch.  Shortly thereafter, a metal grate began rolling over the top of my cell.  "I often wonder if I should've taken a more active part in your formative years.  Alas, the past cannot be changed.  And, regrettable as my actions were, Cynthia did a splendid job of raising you."

             
"My mom's name is Cynthia," I confessed, my stomach twisting in knots.
Could this guy actually be my father?
  I highly doubted it.  They could've easily discovered her name by digging through my trash or intercepting my mail while they were stocking me.  Just in case, though, I decided to carry on with the ridiculous discussion.  "Listen, old man.  I need proof, cold hard evidence, before I'm gonna believe a single word that comes out of your crazy ass mouth."

             
"I expected as much.  So, I'm prepared to tell you the story of how your mother and I first met.  It should further the credibility of my claim.  Nonetheless, I prefer to discuss it in a more comfortable environment.  Follow me."  Then, with a graceful flourish, he about-faced and marched toward one of the room's two exits.  And, yeah, I trailed along right behind him. 
I know, I know.  Curiosity killed the cat.  Sigh.

             
We entered into a round, windowless hallway that resembled something from an industrial facility, or a government compound, or possibly even a squeaky clean
sewage ditch. 
I had no clue.
  Our footsteps echoed while we walked, the floor's grating amplifying the sound.  And, after a bit of this, I eventually determined that we were walking through a huge metal pipe. 
Yep, stranger and stranger.

             
We proceeded at a leisurely stroll for a good five minutes, every so often hearing muffled talking as we passed intersections with smaller pipes.  One of them, apparently leading to a kitchen, was filled with the most enticing smell of herbs and spices.  My mouth watered and my stomach begged me to go down it.  Although, sadly, we just kept walking.  It took all my strength to keep pushing ahead. 
God I needed food!

             
Several left turns later, we were dumped off into what appeared to be a run-of-the-mill living room, well, except for its absence of windows.  One wall held an ornately decorated fireplace which burned strong and provided light for the room.  The furnishings consisted of a brown leather couch and matching recliner, end tables,
a coffee table, and Persian rugs similar to in the larger room.  The walls, however, were decorated with paintings of landscapes, probably reprints of Monet's, instead of tapestries. 

             
"You're mistaken, child.  They truly are Monet's," Tsedaka stated matter-of-factly, easing himself into the recliner.  "He's one of my favorite painters."

             
"How, how do you do that?" I stammered.  "Did you hear my thoughts?  Um, are you
really
telepathic?"

             
The corner of his lip curled into a sly grin.  "Why not have a seat first?" 

             
Totally annoyed, I flopped angrily onto the couch across from him.  "Frankly, I don't know what to think about any of this crap.  Maybe you do have some sort of psychic abilities or it might just be that you're unusually talented at reading body language.  After all, I was looking at the paintings."

             
Ignoring my disoriented babbling, he pointed to pair of glasses and a crystal decanter sitting on the end table.  "Would you join me for a glass of wine?"

             
I felt a tad strange even thinking about accepting another drink from my kidnapper, especially since the last one made me go into convulsions and pass out, but I craved fluids in the worst way.  "Um, it's only wine, right?  It's not laced with drugs or poison?" 

             
He sniggered softly, as though my questions were truly absurd.  "Yes, Luna, it's merely wine.  I give you my word."

             
Despite having no reason to trust him, the prospect of quenching my thirst was extremely appealing.
  And I'd survived the chalice; it's possible that he wasn't gonna poison me.
 
If I ended up being wrong?  Well, I guess I'd have to take my chances.
 
Sigh.
  "Okay, I'll have a little.  Even so, remember, I'm trusting you.  If you screw me, I'll never make that mistake again."

             
He filled a glass and then handed it to me with a warm smile.  "No need to worry, child.  I assure you it's safe.  You're dehydrated, be reasonable and drink."  After which, he poured one for himself and swallowed a couple mouthfuls prior to delving into the story.  "I met your mother in 1986.  She was young in those days, innocent, and not yet hardened by life's pressures.  Her tire had gone flat several miles outside of Lyndon.  As a result, she was alone on the side of the highway, thumbing a ride.  And, obviously, I stopped to provide assistance..."

             
"That sounds a little farfetched, doesn't it?  For real, why would she hook up with some stranger she met on the side of the road?"  My mom wasn't the spur of the moment type of gal.  She tirelessly planned every aspect of our lives, a total Type A personality.  I didn't share my logic with him, though.  Instead, I took a tentative sip of the wine which, by
the way, tasted wonderful.  Unfortunately, the tiny amount barely relieved my thirst.

             
"You see, there was a prophecy about your mother and me.  Our most revered seer, Michel, had the vision in 1791.  It occurred a few months after our ship docked in the new world.  We'd just come over from Europe to start our settlement.  Back then, there were only a small number of us, the nobility.  And we lived together in the same house.