Unbitten (30 page)

When Jo got back to her room, she locked the door and took
another bath, wanting to get the smell of Pierre off her.
But this time, thank heavens, the water felt relaxing, and
purifying, and rejuvenating, and by the time she got out of
her bath she was feeling absolutely tip-top. She
didn’t even feel grossed out by what she had done to
escape Pierre. Girl’s gotta do what a girl’s
gotta do, she thought, looking forward to the next
day’s ride. And actually, now that she had seen
Pierre’s fangs, she was no longer all tangled up
about whether the vampire rumors were true or not, so there
was that.

Sometimes, even when the truth is bad, it’s
comforting to no longer be in doubt.

Also, she had been expecting the usual array of break-up
feelings to swamp her, but so far, nothing. No yearning to
have David’s attention one last time, one last kiss,
one last anything. No desire to see if there was anything
she could do that would make him…different. Yes, the
sex had been incredible at the time, but she didn’t
miss it even a little.

She toweled off and walked naked into her bedroom, looking
forward to the dinner Albert was bringing, and to getting
into bed alone. She put on a robe and called Marianne.

“I don’t even know where to begin,” she
said, after they had gone through their greetings.

“Doesn’t matter,” said Marianne.
“Begin at the end if you want to.”

“The end is–David and I–that’s
over.”

“How are you doing?”

“Fine, really. And what I’m going to tell you,
it’s not even the reason–it’s–all
right, I’m just going to say it. You know all that
talk of vampires that bubbles up every once in a while? Or
maybe I should say, fails to bubble up, but instead is
whispered about, then forgotten?

“Yes, I know what you mean.”

“Well, it turns out…that it’s not just
gossip, not a fairy tale either. I know
because…David…is a vampire. For real.”

Silence on Marianne’s end. Jo didn’t remember
that ever happening before.

“And you know this because…?” Marianne
said finally.

“He bit me.”

“Bit you?”

“Bit me. We were in bed. Things had
been…complicated. Not going all that well, really.
But the sex was mostly amazing. It was hard to think
clearly with the sex being so…I just got lost in it,
Marianne.”

“Uh-hmm, I know how that is,” she said,
although she didn’t exactly, not really.

“Night before last, he showed up, we messed around,
and then without a word, he latched on to my neck.
Marianne, he was
sucking my blood
.”

They stayed on the line, not saying anything. Jo marveled
at how it sounded when she said it out loud–crazy!
And yet, the truth.

“And the really weird thing?” she continued,
"it was unbelievable when he was biting and sucking. It was
absolutely euphoric. Sexually. But not only sexually.

“I never did drugs, you remember, but I’d guess
this must be what it’s like. It’s not easy to
describe, but it’s something like…you have a
moment, a brief moment, when you feel better than you have
ever felt in your whole entire life, better than you had
any idea it was even possible to feel. Does that make any
sense at all?”

“I don’t know about sense. But it does sound
hard to resist.” Marianne got up and started pacing,
and twirling her hair around a finger, a habit left over
from grade school that only surfaced at times of high
anxiety. “And so…what does this mean?”
she asked, now deeply worried about her friend.

“So, yeah, at first, for a few moments, incredibly
great, utter bliss. I didn’t even realize what he was
doing until he had stopped, and I saw his face. With the
fangs and all. My blood on his mouth, and a little dripping
down his chin.” She shuddered. "And
then…whomp! I felt like total crap. I know I keep
saying it’s impossible to describe, but honestly,
both the blissful part and the crap part
later–I’ve never felt anything like either one.

“So before you start making calls and having me tied
up and brought back to New Jersey–it’s over,
Marianne. I’m not going to be involved with him
anymore. Cash the paychecks and that is it.”

Another silence, while they both thought about what Jo had
said.

“Well, " said Marianne, “you do sound
remarkably all right. I don’t hear that funny
something that your voice gets, when you’re doing
something you’re all excited about but it’s not
for the best reasons.”

Jo smiled. “I am still as excited as ever, about a
million things. But David is not on that list any
longer.” She did a lunge while she talked, stretching
her leg muscles that were in a continual ache from all the
riding.

“Wait a minute,” said Jo. “There’s
more. Last night, I was out walking, and another one
grabbed me. Vampire, I mean.”

“What are you doing, out walking alone if this shit
is happening?”

“I chased him off,” Jo answered, thinking that
the full story could wait for another time.

“But so…this village…it’s not
only David. There’s more than just one.” She
shivered and climbed under the covers, still in her
bathrobe.

“Jo, honestly, it does not sound like you are safe
there.”

“Oh, sure I am! I spend most of my time with Thierry,
who works at the stable. He’s a good friend now, and
I’m sure if there were any reason I shouldn’t
stay, he would tell me. Really good guy, Thierry. Plus, you
know I can take care of myself,” she said, with a
hint of defiance.

“I’m trying to take in what you’re
saying, Jo. And I’ll tell you–I’m
worried.”

There was a discreet knock at her door. “Oh,
that’s Albert, bringing me dinner!” Jo
exclaimed. “Don’t worry, everything’s
totally fine. I’ll talk to you again soon,
promise!”

Marianne tapped End and slowly put her cell phone down. And
then, in typical Marianne fashion, she opened her laptop
and began to research. If her friend was embroiled in
something nuts, at least Marianne was going to know as much
about it as anyone else.

Having made sure Angélique could handle David, and
seen them off towards the Château, Henri made
preparations to visit the dungeon, and his parents. With
the trip to Paris and what seemed like one crisis after
another, it had been too long since the last time. It was
never a pleasant duty, but Henri did it anyway. And now he
had a list of questions to ask his mother, as she was going
to have to serve as his first test subject for
labri
Hemo-Yum. Must ask Claudine for a good
product name, Henri noted to himself, and then smiled,
realizing that no doubt the indomitable Claudine was
already working on it.

It was after midnight. The Château was quiet. Henri
let himself in through the kitchen door, thinking to have a
snack himself and perhaps grab a bag of Hemo-Yum for his
father, some new flavor for him to try.

Marcel kept a basket of stale bread for making crumbs and
bread pudding, and Henri took a stale roll and found some
butter and smeared it on thick. After a few bites, he
rummaged around in the pantry–yes! Nutella! He
smeared that right on top of the butter, and kept eating,
leaving a trail of crumbs, on his way to the lab
refrigerator with its stock of Hemo-Yum.

Let’s see. What’s new that Father would not
have tried yet? What in hell is Kardashian? Foxy Brown? The
marketing group at PolyLabs has been getting high at work
again, he thought. He kept looking, and munching his stale
roll, crumbs and flecks of Nutella falling inside the
refrigerator. Ah, Catherine the Great. He might get a kick
out of that one. Henri took the bag and stuffed it in a
coat pocket, and headed for the dungeon.

Vampire eyes can see reasonably well in the dark, but he
took a small flashlight anyway, one that shone a diffused
light that was easier on his parents’ eyes. He needed
to have a good look at them both, to assess their health
properly. One crucial thing Henri had on his list, his long
list, of problems and projects to work on, was figuring out
why it was that his parents, and all the other vampires of
the region that he knew of, aged in a way that vampires
around the world did not.

Yes, there were some places in the world where vampires
showed similar signs of aging–Croatia, for example. A
few countries in Africa. But there were also many places
like Bali, or Canada, where vampires appeared, barring
energetic and clever slayers, to be more or less immortal.

If
le Seigneur
and Antoinette turned out to be
immortal, Henri was going to make it his business to
improve their lives from what they were now. Life in a
pitch-black dungeon was hardly life worth living, in his
opinion. He wasn’t sure what his parents thought,
because how do you go about asking that question?

He moved quietly and quickly down the circular staircase,
and then through the long corridor to their quarters.

Partway there, he could hear his mother moaning, in a
singsong yet terribly pained cry, “I won’t hurt
anybody. I won’t hurt anybody. Will someone take me
home? I won’t hurt anybody. Please. Somebody.”

Henri’s whole body clenched. His mother’s voice
was so mournful, so full of pleading. Yet so dissociated. A
small voice inside told him to turn around and quickly get
out of hearing of that voice, it was too painful to endure.
But Henri kept walking towards their door.

Once again Jo came into his mind. He imagined her there
with him, one warm hand on his arm, the other holding her
own flashlight, fearless.

He did not knock but lifted his gaze to the iris
recognition device and slipped inside as the door slid
open, making as little sound as possible, knowing they
would be able to hear him and ascertain who it was without
being startled.

He walked a few steps into the blackness. “Good
evening, Mother,” he said, holding out his hand.

Antoinette grabbed it and held it to her cheek.
“Somebody came,” she said. It was not clear
whether she knew who Henri was. She had declined an awful
lot since the last time he had visited.

“Good evening, Father,” said Henri, reaching
out with his other hand and patting
le Seigneur
on
the back.

“Son,”
le Seigneur
said. His voice was
thin, but clear. "Your mother is upsetting me. She got all
frantic yesterday, and was rushing around, mumbling about
something or other, and since this
afternoon–I’m guessing since I have no idea
what time it really is in this godforsaken
hole–she’s been crying out like that, over and
over. Will not listen to reason.

“
Do
something,”
le Seigneur
said.

“Somebody help,” said Antoinette, in that
pleading, desperate, singsong voice. “I won’t
hurt anybody.”

Henri was at a loss for what to say. He leaned in to his
mother, kissed her on both cheeks, and then pulled up a
chair right next to her. He put one arm around her and held
her close, and with his other hand, he stroked her arm,
then her cheek, trying to gentle her, the way he used to
caress his beloved dogs and cats before he was turned and
the animals wouldn’t go near him anymore.

“It’s all right,” he murmured.
“I’m here with you.”

He kept stroking and kept murmuring, repeating and
repeating, until he could feel her relax and she stopped
crying out. Henri leaned back in his chair, already
emotionally exhausted, and remembered the bag of Hemo-Yum.

“Here you are, Father,” he said, handing it
over, “Thought you might like a little taste of the
steppes.”

“It’s cold,” said
le Seigneur
with disgust.

“I suggest you put the bag under your armpit for
about twenty minutes,” said Henri. “That should
bring it up close to body temperature.”

“But I want to drink it
now
,” said
le Seigneur
, with the petulance of old age.

“As you wish,” said Henri. He turned the
flashlight on and they raised their hands to block out the
light, even though it was very faint. He flashed it quickly
up and down their bodies, looking for anything that needed
attention. Sometimes one of them fell, and got bloody, and
forgot to tell anyone. Once his mother had broken her arm,
and it was only discovered in this way, with Henri’s
flashlight inspection.

He got up and wandered around their quarters, checking to
see that their beds were in good order, that the room was
clean enough, that they did not lack for water. He wished
there was something he could do to give them some
entertainment. But not being able to stand light or sound
was terribly limiting.

He went ahead and spoke to his mother even though she did
not seem to be capable of much understanding.

“I’ve started a new project, Mother,” he
said softly, his hand on her arm. “You know how
I’ve been bringing Father his drinks? Well, I’m
working on one for
labrim
. Just for you,” he
said. “I hope it will help,” he said, his voice
breaking just a little.