© Copyright 2005 A. Fraser and Jean Hontz. All rights reserved.
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Upstairs, decisions were being made in the absence of the master of the house. The blanket and its contents were removed. The blood and vomit on the carpet were magically vanished. Chairs were returned to their proper places, the dishes were taken to the kitchen and washed. Soon it appeared as if nothing more untoward than a gathering of friends had taken place in the den.
Michael found himself looking up at the portrait that hung over the fireplace. "Proud of your son now, Gregor you old bastard?" he asked it. He felt a hand on his shoulder, turned and saw Gideon looking at him in some concern.
"Are you expecting a reply?" the vampire asked.
Michael shook his head. "After that," he said, "I don't know what to expect." He sighed. "Alex isn't the only one who feels he failed Janine."
"You're not a psychiatrist, Michael."
"I know. But I should have been more insistent that she get counselling."
"You can only help those who admit they need help," Gideon reminded him, somewhat wryly.
"Yes. If only..."
Gideon's hand on his shoulder tightened briefly. "Don't play the 'if only' game, Michael." He looked over to where Joshua was talking to Maggie and Pandora. "This was his first view of vampire law in action," he said. "We're going to need to talk tonight."
Michael tried to smile. "At least we can be reasonably sure that Genevieve won't ever have to carry out the law on Josh."
Gideon didn't smile. "But my own life is forfeit," he said. "I killed my own turnsire. There's just nobody to carry out the sentence."
"Thank the goddess for that," said Michael brusquely, with a return to his more usual demeanour. "Now why don't you take that husband of yours home and have that little chat, hm?"
Gideon let go of his shoulder. "Yes," he said after a minute. "Good idea."
"What will we do about Janine?" Francis asked Evan, after helping him carry the pathetic remains in the blanket out to the cliff.
"We leave her for the sun," Evan replied. "Mrs. Jenkins and I will stand guard until the sun takes her."
"Yeah, I'd guessed that," Francis swallowed. "I meant... explaining. To other people. Like her clients in Toronto. The Canadian government. People can't just disappear these days."
"Oh, they still do," Evan replied. "Quite frequently. But she can't have gotten here by walking from Toronto. She came down the private beach and up the stairs on the cliff, so she must have left her car somewhere in town. It'll be found... eventually. It's known she was depressed and irrational. She came back here to confront Alex, but lost her nerve and either jumped off the cliff or walked into the sea. Because of the currents and tides, her body will never be found."
"And they'll buy that?"
"There's no evidence for any other explanation. With no body, nobody can prove a murder; and nobody would have a motive, anyway. Suicide is more likely given Janine's state of mind."
"Yeah." Francis looked down at the pounding surf below. "D'you think... it _was_ suicide?"
Evan looked at the younger man. Despite the fact that he privately thought Francis needed that good swift kick Michael had mentioned, he felt sorry for the kid. Francis had lost a friend in a violent and unpleasant manner tonight. "That's exactly what I think, Francis," said the bodyguard.
-------------------
How long they sat like that Adele had no idea. She just held him and he let the tears fall. They said nothing. Then, when dawn was approaching he said, "It's time."
She sighed. "Yes."
They got up, held one another another moment and kissed. He lay down on the bed, she stroked his hair until he died with the dawn. She more felt her way out of the bedroom than saw her way out. She was so tired.... But she straightened herself, pushed her hair into some semblance of order, and marched determinedly up the stairs to see what else must needs be done.
People were still around. She was relieved to see Janine's remains were gone. She really didn't want to know what had happened to them. She was so tired.
"Adele," it was Michael, and she turned to look at him. He looked as tired as she felt. He still wore Alex's sweater, with the sleeves turned up three times, and it hung on him nearly to his knees. But somehow, the effect wasn't comical at all.
"Oh, Michael," she said, and and hugged him. He held her for a moment, murmuring nonsense words in Celtic to her.
"Why are you still here?" she asked.
"I had to witness," he said. "And in case you or Alex needed me."
"I'll be... all right," said Adele, despite the fact she wasn't certain she would be. "You should go home. You look awful."
He snorted. "You're not winning any beauty prizes yourself, my dear."
"Have some breakfast, both of you" said Mrs. Jenkins practically. "You too, Evan," she said to the Nameless One who'd just come in from the back door. Then Adele, you go and lie down, and I'll drive Michael home."
Michael looked a question at Evan, who nodded. Adele decided she didn't want to know what that was about. She could give a good guess, anyway. The sun was well up now.
"I don't think I can eat," said Adele. She kept hearing...
"Eat."
They were ushered into the kitchen; apparently Mrs. Jenkins wasn't in formal mode today. Plates were put in front of them. There was food on them. Adele toyed with her food, and found she could barely hold her eyes open. But she forced herself to swallow a few tasteless morsels. She looked up at Mrs Jenkins. "Thank you Mrs J. For what you've done for Alex and for me." Then she pushed her plate away.
"Please take Michael home. His children need him. I'll be ...upstairs." She walked out of the kitchen and found her way to the stairs. She took them slowly, almost too tired to lift her feet high enough for each stair. When she reached the guest room she closed the door and stripped leaving the clothes strewn from the doorway straight to the shower. She got in turned the water on, and dropped to sit as she had with Alex, hands around knees, directly under the water hoping somehow it would wash away the taste and sights of the pain she'd seen today. She finally let herself cry.
-------
Michael was asleep by the time Mrs. Jenkins arrived at Fairlawn. She unbuckled him from the seatbelt and got him out of the car without waking him. She took his keys from his pocket and opened the back door. Quietness reigned over the household; not even Ruddigore came to investigate this intruder. Making very little noise, Mrs. J hoisted the sleeping Archdruid in her arms (retired or not, she was a Nameless One, and it wasn't as if thin, small Michael was any great burden to begin with) and carried him up the stairs to the master bedroom. Mary was sound asleep; Mrs. J laid her husband beside her and covered him up without disturbing her. She couldn't resist a peek in the other bedrooms. Galen and Vivain were both also asleep, Vivain curled up in almost fetal postion with Orlando equally curled up at her back, Galen in the untidy sprawl of a boy, Ruddigore stretched out at his feet. In the downstairs guest room, Guy was also asleep. He'd been very quiet at the proceedings earlier, not wanting to intrude but anxious to observe, to understand. Observation had been easy. Understanding waited to be seen.
Mrs. Jenkins let herself back out of Fairlawn and drove back to Valley Mansion. She checked on Adele. Also asleep, or faking it fairly believably. She wondered how the others were doing.
Evan returned to Oakwoods. Smoke and Pumpkin pressed up against him immediately (Warg had finally joined the ultimate Wolf Pack the proceeding winter, but he'd been very old), demanding food. Mitch must have neglected to feed them, or else they were trying it on. Evan fed them, lecturing them on overeating. They ignored him. He went upstairs and peered into Mitch's bedroom. The werewolf was asleep, bless his shaggy little heart, but there were signs he'd had some difficulty achieving that state. There was, of course, dead silence from the master bedroom. Evan wondered how much talking Gideon had had to do. He did not check in on them.
He went out to the stable, where he fed and mucked out Calvin, talking nonsense to the horse. Anyone who did not know the Nameless would have thought Evan heartless for continuing these activities. But the animals had to eat and be looked after. There were duties. He did them.
Mitch came downstairs midafternoon and silently ate the food Evan produced. "Now what?" asked the werewolf dully. Evan glanced at the clock. "It will be dark in France," he said. "I have to call Genevieve." He picked up the phone.
Gen heard her cell phone as she was going over the accounts from the winery with her estate manager. She excused herself and answered it.
"Oui? Ah, Evan... oh." She bowed her head. "I see. That poor girl. How is Alexandre? Should I come?" She listened for a moment. "Yes, very well. Let me know the moment... yes. Yes, of course. Je t'aime." She clicked "finis" and stood there, head still bowed, but eyes dry.
"Bad news?" asked the estate manager.
In Meadowsweet Ridge, Pandora wept, while Nicholas held her, his own tears falling unheeded.
Maggie, unable to sleep, paced the floor of her duplex, but did not cry. No tears from the tough girl.
Ray slept the sleep of the heavily drugged, his bandaged arm flung outside the covers. Estella, equally sleepless, equally dry-eyed, sat beside him, occasionally trying in vain to smooth his curly hair, trying to process everything that had happened. Trying not to think that she had nearly lost him.
And Francis slept.
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Adele had no memory of how she'd got from the shower to the bed. But she awoke just after noon and that's where she found herself. Dressed in a nightgown (had it been Janine's?). She spent some time pondering a wavery memory of Mrs J checking up on her. She'd pretended to be asleep. She finally had fallen asleep, but her dreams had been difficult. She got out of bed, took another shower, this one more rational, and walked out into the bedroom to realize she was here yet again with no clothes. She couldn't bear to wear the ones from last night. She did find the moose robe (thank you Mrs J) and wrapped herself up in it, and padded barefoot downstairs.
She'd meant to go straight to the kitchen for something to eat, but found herself drawn, not really consciously, into the room where... it... had happened. The room had been cleaned thoroughly. Well, as thoroughly as was possible. Put to rights, aired out, dusted, sanitized, devoid of all the physical manifestations of the night before. But the psychic undertones of death were still there and called to Adele. Her curse. No sense resisting them. She couldn't. Instead she would have to find a way to live with them if she were to keep seeing Alex.
Love. Oh goddess.
She walked over to the spot where Janine had fallen. She crouched down and stretched out a shaky hand toward the spot. She swallowed, and pushed her hand through the resistance she felt and touched the area where Janine had died. Emotions washed over her. All sorts of mixed, violently coloured, primal emotions. Hatred, fury, love, confusion, deep seething anger, fear, and, at a deeper level, relief intermingled with gratitude. Seeing all of that which had been inside the girl was painful. But she well knew facing such things would make her own life more bearable.
She pondered why it was she could not sense vampires' minds when she touched them, yet she could feel this. Because she'd burned out her life here? The last breath, that last bit of defiance against an unfeeling, uncaring universe. Or simply because death was always calling out to her. She shuddered, then stood, and headed for the kitchen.
Mrs J was there, and must have known Adele was awake. Tea awaited her. Along with a generous plateful of warm and nourishing good food.
"Good morn.. Good afternoon," Adele said. She took her seat and found she was hungry. As she ate, she felt Mrs J watching her. When she'd finished, and managed a wan smile of thank you to Mrs J, she wandered out of the kitchen.
She went down to Alex's bedroom and looked in on him. Dead. Love. She walked over and lay next down next to him. To her surprise she slept a little...then she awoke. She checked the clock, it would be several hours yet before sundown.
She arose and wandered the house some more, less terrified of entering that room now. But in the next room, in what was designed as a music room she found a piano. She sat on the bench and ran her hand lovingly along the rich wood. She lifted the cover from over the keys. It was a beautiful piano, the keys rich, aged ebony and ivory. She played a few tentative notes. Yes, it was in tune. Of course it was.
Then she played. She played to drown out that sound, to find something beautiful to lose her thoughts in. She played and played.
-----------------
Alex woke with a shudder. She'd be gone, of course. Ashes and gone. No inconvenient remains to explain away. Sooner or later there would have to be an explanation of her disappearance, but no doubt the reliable Evan had already thought of something. He rose and showered automatically. Shuddered again as he encountered the black clothes he'd worn last night, still in a heap on the floor. He left them there. There was blood on the shirt. He'd tell Mrs. J to burn them.
He put on something totally different; frowning a bit when he couldn't find his favourite sweater.
He went upstairs to the sounds of Mozart from the piano. He hadn't played in ages, though he kept the instrument in tune. Brier had played. Janine hadn't. He suspected Mrs Jenkins of occasionally pounding out a drinking song during the day.
He looked into the den first. He could no more help it than Adele had. Empty. The portrait of Gregor Goldanias frowned down at him. Alex gave it the finger. He'd had to flee his native Romania with nothing of his own; he'd found the portrait at an auction sale a century after his own death. It had amused him to have to buy his own father. It didn't seem quite so funny now. Satisfied, he went next door into the music room and leaned on the piano. "Do you take requests?" he asked.
Adele smiled up at him. "Only from some people. I'm only competent now. So don't ask for something impossibly intricate. But I'll do my best. You know, it's hard to pretend to be a concert pianist when you're wearing a moose robe."
"Scoot over," he commanded, and she made room for him on the piano bench. "We really must build you up a wardrobe for these impromptu visits," he said. "Or else I'll get that robe taken in a bit."
He struck a key, then another. Adele laughed. She couldn't help it. He was playing "Chopsticks".
"What a fine, expensive musical education you must have had."
"Ah, well, I'll work my way up to Elgar by midnight, you'll see." She laughed and they duelled with Chopsticks until Adele was laughing so hard she could no longer hit the keys correctly. "Ah, you cheat!"
"Do not!" Alex replied laughing himself. They sat there staring into each other's eyes.
"Thank you for last night," said Alex finally.
"You're welcome," Adele replied.
"That was the hardest thing I have ever done in my life."
"I can't even begin to imagine how you feel."
"Have you heard from anyone? How's Ray?"
"Mrs J told me all were as well as could be expected. It was hard on everyone.Ray will be fine."
"Adele..." Alex sighed. "Now you know what I'm capable of. What we're all capable of."
"I killed someone, too, Alex," she said. "I had no choice. You had no choice. I'm not sure even Janine had a choice, really."
He looked at her. "You'll have to tell me that story, some day," he said. "If you're willing."
"One day. It is still very hard for me to talk about."
Mrs. Jenkins appeared in the doorway. "Dinner," she said. "And I've scrounged some clothes for you, Adele. Maggie dropped by with some while you were asleep."
Adele excused herself and ran upstairs. She donned a pair of slacks and a sweater and mentally thanked Maggie. She went down the stairs several at a time to arrive breathless at the dinner table. Alex stood as she entered.
"I rather miss the moose robe," Alex said.
"That's because it falls open and gives you a free view. Not to worry, I'll give you one later. And if you are very very nice, you'll get to touch."
He smiled at her, and she was relieved to see that some of the shadows in his eyes were gone. It was going to be a long road, though. A long, long road.
As Adele was working on dessert, the phone rang, and Mrs. Jenkins appeared a moment later.
"Mr. Fairlawn," she said, apparently now back in formal mode, "wishes to know if you need company tonight, or if he should fend off the crowd of well-wishers until tomorrow."
Alex's hand shook slightly as he took the cordless from the housekeeper. "Michael," he said. "Fine. No, of course not fine, but ... yes."
His eyes met Adele's. "Can you keep them off for one more night? I think... I think I need to be alone with Adele tonight. I appreciate that everyone is concerned. I need... time, Michael. Thank you for understanding. Tomorrow night, yes; we'll have a meeting here. How's Ray? Good. Give him my regards. Thanks again, Tagd." He handed the phone back to Mrs. Jenkins.
He looked at Adele again. "You don't mind, do you?"
"Don't mind," she repeated with a frown. "Let me see, do I mind having some private time with you. Oh, and with Elgar. You've promised me Elgar."
"Yes, I did, didn't I," Alex almost smiled.
"I intend to hold you to your promises, Alex, so do not make any lightly."
"And I intend to hold you to yours. You promised me a view. And possibly a touch."
"If you were good."
He scooped her up in his arms and carried her, squealing, to his dark, familiar bedroom. He was briefly thankful that the clothes from last night had vanished. Gods bless Mrs. Jenkins.
"Damn," he said. "You didn't bring the moose robe with you."
"Somehow I think it won't be missed for long," she said as he tossed her onto
the bed. She bounced and giggled. He jumped onto the bed, landing such that he
had her pinned under him where he knelt above her. She lifted herself upwards
and wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him down to her and meeting his
lips as eagerly as he'd dare to hope. Their love making was a bit bittersweet,
coloured despite their passion with the events of the last 24 hours, but it gave
them a chance to subsume their thoughts and memories into the greater whole and
reminded both of them that life went on.
---------------
Genevieve, informed of the happenings at Valley Mansion, wanted to be with her loved ones. There were airplanes, of course, but there was one much easier way. All it had taken was a note, and Julian had quickly replied he would be pleased to provide her a means to reach Maine:
---------------
Genevieve was waiting in the drawing room; the prettiest room in the chateau.
Anxious for her loved ones, anxious to be in Maine, to see them all.
She knew the seriousness of asking Julian for a favour, and being in his debt;
but she also knew that he would not abuse this debt. But he would undoubtedly
call it in.
It was worth it, not to have to rely on airlines. She could afford the fare, it
wasn't a question of money. International flights were chancy things; she'd had
close calls before.
This would be a serious meeting tonight, so she had dressed simply. Perhaps
Jean, and their recent adventures with Julian, Gideon and the others had
influenced her, she thought with a smile, for she had taken recently to
wearing slacks. She wore a somber navy blue suit now, with a white shirt. Poor
Janine. Gen grieved for the girl, for the loss, for Alex, but no tears came. It
was not becoming for a master vampire to weep.
They had all been shed long ago, in any case.
She heard the front bell. That would be Julian. Right on time. Always proper.
Hmmm. Not so always proper but proper at the proper moments, at any rate; he
waited to be seen in to where she was expecting him.
He was dressed casually, dark gray slacks, a silk sweater of a luminous
blue-green hue that seemed to make his eyes change colours. He bowed before her
and took the hand she offered him. He raised it to his lips.
"Ready? Do you wish to take anything with us?'
"I have one small bag," she said. "Bertrand," this was the estate manager,
"will look after Aurore for me, and the little cousins can look after
themselves. I do not anticipate being away very long, perhaps two or three
nights at most. You can return me?"
"Whenever you wish."
She kissed his cheek, gently. "Thank you, Julian."
"Hmmm. So chaste."
She was still laughing when they were suddenly standing on the front porch of
Valley Mansion. He'd alerted the powers that be, so the alarums he'd raise
would not set Evan into needless motion.
Adele opened the door to them. She hugged Gen tightly, and then hugged Julian.
"Thank you," she whipsered to him. "For everything."
He touched her cheek, smiled at her, and disappeared.
"Come in Gen. I'm so glad you're here," Adele said taking her small bag and
handing it off to Mrs J. The two women walked side by side into the living
room. Nobody had wanted to use the den for the meeting. "You're the first one
here."
"Depend on Julian," Gen smiled. "That is good, for I wished to speak to both
you and Alex alone. Adele... cherie. It must have been terrible."
Adele's lower lip quivered for a second but then she raised her chin and got
better control of herself. "It was rather frightful. Alex was magnificent.
Oh, it is all so very sad. I ... Sensed her afterwards, Gen. I think it was
what she wanted. Oh, perhaps not consciously, but she was deeply unhappy and
was ready for peace."
"Yes," said Genevieve quietly. She caught Adele's slightly alarmed look, and
smiled. "No, not I," she said, shaking her head. "But I know vampires who are
in that state. True Death is the kindest thing you can give them. But you were
magnificent as well, Adele. Alex chose well."
Adele blushed. "Coming from you, that means a lot," she said. "I ... was such
an idiot at first, when I.. first was with him. I was terrified of you. Of what
your reaction would be."
Genevieve just looked at her, amused and concerned. "You feared censure?" she
asked.
"I thought... I thought you might tell me I was a fool, for choosing Alex."
"Ah, Adele," and the smile was slightly sad. "I am the last person on earth
with the right to pass judgment on others being fools for love."
"Ah, but he loves you so. All these years and that love has not faded. You are
blessed."
Adele drew Gen over to the sofa and the two of them had their heads together,
blonde and brown curls intermingled, talking quietly when Alex walked into the
room.
"My two favourite ladies," he said, and they both looked up at him. "However
could a man choose between such beauties?"
"It would seem you have chosen," replied Genevieve, without rancor.
"And wisely. I shall live with the despair."
"Jean would kill me anyway," Alex said, and as both women rose, he came around
the couch and hugged Genevieve. "Thank you for coming."
"How could I not?"
"I need to go put on some make-up," Adele said, giving Alex a quick squeeze.
"I can't let Francis see me like this." She gave Gen another hug, too. "Don't
ravish him while I'm gone, okay? I want to watch." She slipped out of the room.
Alex watched her go. "Isn't she magnificent?" he asked.
"Yes. And so were you."
He met her eyes. "I acted as a turnsire should," he said.
"Yes. Jean says he is proud of you."
Alex's laugh was hollow and humourless. "After all this time, I finally know
how he felt. I couldn't understand it at the time."
"Alexandre... you do understand why it was necessary?"
A short, sharp nod. "Spare me the lecture, Gen," he said wearily. "I will not
make another fledgling."
"That is a foolish oath. If I had sworn it, where would Joshua be? Or Jean?"
She took hold of his hands. "Swear rather that you will not do so in passion, on
a whim, or foolishly without thinking of the consequences."
"Yes," he said after a moment. "I so swear."
"It was well done, Alex. Evan told me. A swift, clean blow, a merciful death."
"The kind that has eluded me."
"You have Adele now. I forbid you to look for the final peace. It would break
her heart. And the hearts of all who love you--do you think a dozen or more
people are about to come to this house because they hate you?"
"No, of course not. I'm sorry... force of habit to speak that way."
"Break the habit."
She spoke so sharply that Alex stepped back. "Yes, grandmere," he said, meekly,
hanging his head.
He looked so much like a five year old expecting a scolding that she laughed.
"I told you not to call me that."
A gleam of mischief shone in those grey eyes. "I hear the doorbell," he said.
"You haven't got time to spank me."
"Later," she promised darkly, as he stepped forward to greet his guests.
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