The Vampire (THE VAMPIRE Book 1) (82 page)

“What…what happened…to them…?” Jason wasn’t sure he wanted to know, but he had come too far now not to hear how the story ended.

“I will say only that they came to know what it is to die slowly by fire.”

Jason experienced an involuntary shudder. Augere slowly began to move on then, reluctantly taking his eyes from that spot, and Jason followed close behind.

Augere paused at another corner and looked up at the façade of an old famous restaurant. “I remember when this structure was just being built.” They walked on. Augere pointed out places, things, facts about the French Quarter and details from his past, and Jason was fascinated at the living history lesson. He had passed by so much of it, in his brief times here, and he had not known. Augere talked about the pre- and post-Civil War years; the grand balls, some of which he had attended; the Mississippi flooding the city before the levees. At times, passersby would pause, caught up in his words and trying to catch a bit of what he was saying, hearing some fascinating revelations, lingering as long as they could, until Augere would pause and look at them and they would self-consciously move on. The past seemed vibrantly alive to him; the present, simply superimposed on all he had lived through and remembered from his many decades in New Orleans.

“I think I am enjoying New Orleans even more than ever, thanks to you,” Jason told him. “I am looking at things I saw weeks ago, but it is as if I am seeing them for the first time. All the color and sounds and life of the city are more real to me than before.” The words rushed out of him with more emotion than he was comfortable expressing. But he was caught up in the moment too, enjoying the city and time spent with Augere, and just the fact of being in his company. “When I was here just weeks ago, I wandered these same streets, not really seeing or enjoying all that was around me. At one point I didn’t really care what happened to me.”

“You put yourself in danger.” Augere nodded.

Jason tilted his head slightly. “I think I had a really close call one night. Something very strange happened…” He looked at Augere then. They had paused to look in the window of an antique shop. “How did you know I put myself in danger…? You aren’t just saying that, are you? You really knew…?” He paused, studying him. “You saw me, didn’t you?” The thought came to him with fresh clarity; he had already suspected it was true.

“Perhaps. Does it matter.”

“But—if you knew—why wouldn’t you let me know? You had to have realized I was looking for you—why didn’t you acknowledge me?” He corrected himself—“sooner?”

“You should have returned home.”

Jason wanted to ask why, but he didn’t. “But I just couldn’t. I had to—”

“Have you need of rest? Refreshment?” Augere asked suddenly.

Jason nodded, realizing in fact, he did need both. He had his answer now. He was beginning to feel better about that whole dark episode. His suffering had not gone unnoticed. Somehow that fact meant everything to him. He didn’t know how or when Augere had seen him, but he felt sure now that he had. It was well worth returning to New Orleans, if only to experience this moment.

Jason hadn’t been paying strict attention to where they were walking, and now they were at the corner of Rue Dumaine and Decatur. They turned and began walking toward the Café du Monde. Augere indicated it just ahead with a nod. “Your preferred place.”

Jason laughed and nodded. They entered and sat in an area out of the breeze as the air had grown somewhat chilly. He got his usual order of beignets and café au lait, and Augere ordered coffee. When the order promptly arrived, Jason bit into a warm sugary beignet, sending powdered sugar flying everywhere, with a lot of it settling on his black clothing. Another bite produced the same result and Augere laughed gently, a clear bell like tone, a sound still quite rare to Jason’s ear and he delighted in hearing it. They were both relaxed and enjoying each other’s quiet company.

After a time, Augere spoke again. “I can recall before this place was here; quite a long time ago. This was all waterfront then. The ships docked and unloaded cargo here. It was a noisy, dirty and dangerous place. Not at all the comfortable tourist repose it is now.”

Jason was quite amazed at Augere’s loquaciousness today. “What years were those?” he asked after savoring a sip of the hot chicory coffee.

“The war had already begun. 1861 perhaps.”

“And you lived here then?”

“No. I traveled here often, on business. I lived in Savannah then.”

“At that house…where you and I went…?”

Augere gave a hesitant nod as he gazed at passersby.

“It must have been really dangerous, just traveling from place to place during the war. And being in Savannah—all of the South, really—” Jason temporarily forgot the nature of the creature he was speaking to. His thoughts wandered again to that house in Savannah.

“Not for me. And people still needed cotton, rice, sugar cane, indigo. Many things.”

“And what role did you play in that? What was your life like?”

“I owned two plantations by then. And about seventy-five slaves.”

Jason was already thinking he would never get over the shock of revelations like these. And Augere’s long life, all he had seen and done, could be endlessly amazing.

“What did you think of President Lincoln?”

Augere gave him a faint smile. “My loyalties tended to lean in the other direction. Although I still considered myself foremost a French citizen, I had become American by decree in 1803. It mattered little to me who won the war, except for commerce.” Augere paused. “I did come to admire Mr. Lincoln, however. I saw him alight from a carriage with his son once, in front of the White House. Even from a distance, his was quite an impressive and imposing presence.”

Jason was in awe. The presence…impressed with the viewing of…a presence.

“The next time I saw him, I was but one of many mourners who filed past his body in the Rotunda of the Capitol building.”

Jason nodded, trying to picture that sad event.

“What year did you come to this country?” Jason was going to take full advantage of Augere’s willing self-disclosure.

“1800. Shall we go now.” Augere stood abruptly. They had both since finished, Augere having taken but a sip of the black coffee.

They resumed their walk through the Quarter. Augere made remarks at this or that location, all of it always fascinating to Jason. No walking tour he could ever take of the French Quarter could touch this one.

Augere paused in front of a large stately grey and black building on a corner of Royal Street. “I had a benefactor, whom I did not yet know at the time, who once attended a party at this house with the woman who was then his wife. He told me about it.” He paused for several moments. Jason waited patiently. “Before I met him, I myself had once attended a party here. In—1833, I believe it was. It was one of the few times I had decent enough clothing then and could pass myself off as one of New Orleans society. I had no invitation but was able to come as a guest of some other.” He paused again, perhaps remembering those events. Jason wondered at the significance of it. Perhaps just a random memory. “They were a gracious couple and the party was quite lavish and elaborate. Not like anything I had ever attended before. We did not know of course, of the terrible things that went on here, perhaps even occurring then.” Augere’s expression darkened and Jason could almost feel he was absent from the here and now. Augere was silent. Darkness had taken him far away from the present moment.

“Mr. Augere…?” Jason’s words had little effect. He repeated them and then Augere turned his head to look at him. “She was fairly attractive. She spoke to me briefly. Flirtatious and sweetly charming in demeanor. I had barely a few words with her husband.”

“Who was that?” Jason had to ask.

“Delphine and Leonard LaLurie.”

It took Jason several moments to put it together. Then he stared, nearly open mouthed. The LaLurie mansion? Home of the notorious couple who had tortured and mutilated their slaves until an angry mob had stormed this house and all but destroyed it, forcing the infamous couple to flee the city. Jason stepped back and looked the house over. Of course, he knew it. Knew the whole story of it. He had not realized just where they were.

“Of course, none of that activity had come to light yet. It was not until many years later.” Augere paused and then shook his head. “None of us suspected.” He said this quite innocently; the irony of him being a vampire among all of them was overshadowed by the horror of the events that were later revealed to have occurred here.

It seemed the door to further revelations had closed then.

They returned by taxi to the cottage to retrieve their things and then the same taxi brought them to check into their French Quarter hotel.

They had large, adjoining rooms. Jason was relieved to have privacy; as much as he often craved Augere’s company he now knew it was healthier to try to maintain some emotional, and probably physical, distance.

It was time to change and get ready for the evening event. Jason was looking forward to going to Muriel’s again; this evening promised to be a very pleasant one. Things were already going better than he had expected. He was washing his face when Augere suddenly appeared through the unlocked adjoining door. He casually took a seat opposite Jason. “The room is too close,” he stated simply.

Jason looked up at him, surprised.

Too close
.
Is he saying he doesn’t want to be in such close proximity to me?
Jason wondered. Well, what was he supposed to do about it? Apparently it had been difficult enough to find rooms this time of year on such short notice; there were no other rooms available. He looked at Augere for several moments.

His own room was pleasant enough; but it was a trifle stuffy just now, he realized. Wait—close. Did he mean—warm?

“Too stuffy perhaps? Too warm?” Jason asked. Augere nodded.

“Well—maybe—you could just open a window,” Jason suggested.

“Good idea,” Augere replied and was up and gone in the next second.

Jason dried his hands and then resumed getting ready. A few moments later a horrible screeching sound came from Augere’s room, followed by the loud and unmistakable sound of splintering wood. Jason froze. Then there was silence.

Augere returned a few moments later, and once again sat in the chair in Jason’s room. He wore an innocent expression.

“You got the window open?”

Augere nodded.

“Is it a little more comfortable now?”

Augere nodded again.

Jason sighed heavily and then paused for a moment.

“The windows don’t actually open, do they?”

Augere shook his head.

“So that would mean that the window is—”

“Broken.”

“I see,” Jason sighed. He guessed it was his fault. He told Augere to open it. “I’ll call Mr. Genier to let him know. Hopefully, he can get this straightened out.”

Augere nodded. He remained seated, with a placid expression.

“Are you going to get ready now?” Jason asked him.

“Right,” Augere replied, and then left abruptly.

They could have easily walked the short distance to the restaurant, but a car came all the same. As soon as they arrived they spotted James and Allen. James disappeared with Augere and Allen led Jason to their reserved salon.

At each place setting sat uniformly sized gifts decoratively labeled with gold fleur de lis embossed cards bearing each person’s name. Jason found his place and took his seat. He gazed around. Now there were some familiar faces in the room. He watched closely to see what others at his table did. He recognized Allen and James’ sister, the brunette named Cherise, and her husband; they sat at his table, along with two others whom he didn’t know. She smiled warmly at him. Introductions were made. Again, he heard only that they were Geniers. At least a hundred people were in attendance tonight, he guessed. Wine and hors d’oeurves were being served. Allen left the table and appeared a few minutes later at a podium standing alongside James.

An announcement was made, thanking everyone for joining the festivities. A brief prayer was said, a wonderfully expressed sentiment, wishing good health and prosperity to all friends and family. Then James stated he had an announcement; scattered laughter could be heard. ”There is a telephone call…” More laughter. “By any chance…” The laughter grew louder, as if in anticipation of the next comment. “…are there any Thibodeaux family present?” And all the room joined in the hearty laughter then. It was, Jason learned from someone at his table, and old inside joke, a warm sentiment shared between both the large Genier and Thibodeaux families, one that had become a custom enjoyed each year. Then everyone in the room raised a glass and toasted: “To good friends, good health, loving family, wonderful gatherings such as these, and much more of the same.”

Before the first course was served, everyone began to unwrap the gift at their place. and Jason followed suit. He removed the calligraphy place card bearing his name from atop a large tin box, identical to those at each place, except for the differing hues of Mardi Gras colored ribbons encircling each box. Inside his box he found an assortment of gift cards, and as Jason began to look through his, he heard excited comments from others around him. It appeared the cards were personally selected specifically for that person’s interests. In Jason’s case there were cards for his favorite places both in Boston and New Orleans. As if all of his personal preferences were known and someone had kept track of his spending habits. He was staggered by the unexpected generosity. There were dozens of gift cards with sizable denominations: for his favorite bookstore; restaurants; movies; to numerous local establishments and clothing places he favored; a $500 airline voucher; a universal prepaid gift card worth $500—there had to be well over several thousand dollars in value in just his gifts alone. He glanced around the room. Many happy faces, finding the same happy surprises.

The first of six courses arrived. He had chosen shrimp remoulade from among the appetizers, having difficulty deciding from so many good choices. Then he had a small cup of gumbo with garlic bread. He selected a wedge of iceberg lettuce with crumbled bacon, blue cheese and cherry tomatoes. He was trying to save room for the entrée, and the dessert he inevitably would have even if feeling full. He had never before dined as well as he did when he was in New Orleans.