The Vampire (THE VAMPIRE Book 1) (15 page)

One day, while they were sitting at the beach, Augere suddenly turned to him and surprised him by saying:

“You must wonder that I lack such common knowledge. As if I have lived behind a rock or under the times. But you always patiently take the time to explain.”

Jason untangled the mixed metaphors as he regarded him silently. The comment touched him more deeply than he was prepared to admit. He was never condescending toward Augere but he felt a little self-conscious that Augere had noticed it. He simply accepted him as he was.

“I don’t have any problem with that.” Jason lowered his gaze. “I don’t judge you.”

“No. Not yet.”

Jason looked up quickly, expecting to see Augere’s wry smile. But his expression was quite serious.

Jason regarded it as a strange moment between them; an incomplete exchange, as if something significant had been left unsaid.

Later, when he reflected on all he’d learned, Jason thought he had a better understanding of why Augere might need someone like him around. It wasn’t just to run errands or perform menial tasks. Augere needed someone to help fill in the gaps in the things he did not know. And Augere and Genier might not readily know where those gaps were until a situation came up. It was not something that could be easily anticipated.

There were definitely strange things about Augere. But maybe there were rational explanations for them too. Some traumatic event might have happened, one that had caused him to miss out on things most guys his age would know. And how old was he when he lost his whole family? How did that happen exactly? Knowing some of this would be helpful.

He began to speculate on things that might have occurred. A huge accident of some kind. Maybe he was the only survivor. Maybe he had even been in a coma…that could be it. Jason tried applying that scenario to Augere, based on his limited knowledge of such things.

When Jason was growing up a neighbor’s son had been in a coma after a sports injury. Jason remembered his parents discussing it with the boy’s family from time to time. Jason never met the boy, who was seven years older, and had been in a coma for several years. The real difficulties had come when the boy came out of it. All of his friends had graduated by then and some had gone on to college, or were married with kids, while he had still been frozen in time. There had been an overwhelming amount of change for him to adjust to when he returned to the world. Jason supposed perhaps something similar could have happened to Augere. It was one possible explanation.

But Augere doesn’t owe me any explanations,
he reasoned.
I don’t know his circumstances. But it isn’t hard for me to show some empathy and patience toward him, regardless
. He saw Augere a little more regularly, but never predictably. His obsession with Augere was strongly renewed whenever he did not see him for a while. It was an uncomfortable feeling to him, as if he had actually begun to crave seeing him. He tried to downplay that idea. It was unhealthy and bordered on obsession.

Jason continued to find odd and unusual things about him. He found Augere in the library one afternoon with a set of keys on his desk. There had to be seventy-five or more keys on one large ring. Jason wondered what he would possibly need that many keys for.

Augere selected several, seemingly at random, and removed a total of six keys from the ring.

“I need copies made of these,” Augere said to him.

Jason nodded. He picked up the keys and looked them over. There was no color coding, no distinctive markings or shape of any kind he could see, not even any numbers on them. How did Augere distinguish these from so many of the other keys of similar if not identical size and shape? Jason decided to ask.

Augere’s impassive expression accompanied his explanation. “I just know.”

On another occasion, Jason noticed Augere writing in his old leather bound journal. He was using one of his several fountain pens. At the time they were watching a movie together and Augere would occasionally write something in the journal. Jason happened to glance over at him and realized Augere was writing several lines in the journal without once taking his eyes off of the movie. Even from his angled viewpoint the written lines were neatly done on the page, whole paragraphs of them in fact. Jason stared for several moments, mesmerized.
How does he do that?
He wondered. Writing line after continuous line without even glancing at the page? He had to force himself to look away to keep from staring too obviously.

One evening Jason had been watching TV in his quarters and got up to go to the kitchen for a drink.
I think I need a small refrigerator in my library or the bedroom. The kitchen just seems too far away sometimes
.

As he crossed the foyer he noticed the double doors to the library were open. Jason hadn’t seen Augere in several days as usual. As he got closer he heard familiar music playing softly from within. Jason quietly approached the doorway. The only illumination was from several tall white candles placed in a small candelabra that sat on the tall dark wooden wine rack. And Jason thought he detected the scent of a pleasant and familiar incense. Nag Champa, maybe. He stood in the doorway, intrigued by the ambience within.

“Are you busy?” Augere asked without turning around. No matter how quiet Jason was, Augere always seemed aware of him right away.

“No.” Jason was acquiring Augere’s economy with words.

“Have some absinthe with me.”

Jason approached as Augere turned to face him.

He seemed in a good mood. It may have been a trick of the candlelight but his face had a healthier glow than usual. His eyes shone more intensely violet than Jason had seen in a while.

Absinthe?
Jason had meant to try some when he was in New Orleans, but hadn’t found time to do so. The liqueur was not something he had been able to find easily in Minnesota.

Maybe right now was a good time. He recognized the sexy soft voices and sounds of the Enigma CD that was playing—it was something he knew of from his parents music collection and the whispered phrases in French intermingled with Gregorian chant had held seductive appeal for him. He felt comforted by the familiarity of it just now.

Jason gazed around him. On the desk stood a large old looking bottle with a faded label. He peered at it and read: C. Comoz Absinthe des Alpes. Chambery. He could barely make out what looked like 1880 or maybe 1881 on the dusty label. Two tall glasses—
Augere owned glasses
?—stood beside the bottle. Had he been expecting someone? Someone else?

A crystal pitcher of water and ice also occupied the desktop beside the bottle; alongside that was an ornate silver spoon and a glass container of sugar in small cubes. Silver tongs rested on the sugar.

Jason took a seat nearby where he could watch as Augere began the absinthe ritual Jason had only ever read about. Jason became totally absorbed in the process. He vaguely wondered if this substance was legal. It must be, now.

Augere placed the silver slotted spoon over one of the tall glasses, both of which already had a small amount of clear liquid in them. He placed a sugar cube, using the delicate silver tongs, on the silver spoon and slowly poured icy water over them. He then repeated the same process with the other glass, slowly and patiently, expertly allowing the contents to combine and transform into a milky cloud.

“I’ve never had this before,” Jason stated.

“Not many have ever had this before.”

“I mean, I’ve never had any absinthe before.”

While the second glass completed its transformation Augere studied Jason for a few moments.

The music changed to a familiar quick tempo bluesy tune, probably from a different CD, the name of which escaped Jason just then.

“It is not the poison it once was. Not this particular one,” He said in his soft mellow voice. “It will not make you insane. If that is your concern.”

Jason had not even thought of that.

As Augere placed one of the glasses in front of Jason, he wondered if he should be concerned. He had never gotten into drugs, not really; he had tried cocaine once. Smoked a fair amount of pot in college though. He wasn’t a particularly serious drinker. Jason eyed the old bottle on the desk. It seemed obvious this was something very old, and possibly rare. And Augere had invited him to share it. He watched as Augere lifted his own glass.

It was as if Augere knew Jason was waiting for him to take a sip. Augere wouldn’t give him something harmful, right? Or take something harmful himself?

Jason didn’t want to appear nervous about trying it. He wanted to come across as sophisticated and worldly. But he still waited until Augere took another sip. Jason took a small taste. Smooth. Pleasant. Subtle, unexpected flavors. He really liked it. He took another sip.

“Is it to your liking?” Augere asked.

“Yes. Thank you.” Jason sipped more, savoring it.

Why did I think he wouldn’t really drink it?
Something half remembered… No—Augere and he had been drinking wine together for the past few weeks.

The music seemed to change again; or Jason was just then becoming aware of it. A lively Cajun sounding tune, both wistful and upbeat at the same time was playing now…

They continued sipping their drinks without speaking.

Jason felt quite mellow. More mellow than he had in a long time. His thoughts were quick and lucid; he was fully in control of his faculties; his senses were sharp, defined. It was a different kind of buzz than he was used to. A quite pleasant one. He was enjoying Augere’s silent company too. He wanted to stay…to drink more…to talk to Augere and learn all there was to know about him…or not. Maybe just stay here in silent proximity to him.

His glass was empty now. Augere had not quite finished all of his.

“Should we have some more?” Jason asked. Augere actually laughed a little. A very pleasant musically melodic sound, unlike anything else; a sound so rarely heard.

“Oh, yes,” he said. “But not tonight. Another time.”

****

Jason arrived a little early for his class the next morning. He sipped at a coffee from the student union as he sat on a bench near the door to the classroom. His copy of the class schedule for September sat on the bench next to him. He really wanted to take another cinema class, and he had to hurry up and register, now, if it was going to happen. He still had not been able to bring up the idea to Augere. But things had worked out well so far. Why couldn’t this just continue to go on this way? Augere didn’t have to know. Why rock the boat?

Out of the corner of his eye he noticed a girl sit down on the same bench, a short distance away. A brunette who seemed vaguely familiar to him. He shyly stole a quick glance in her direction. Attractive. Exotic looking even.

“Are you taking McGregor’s class in the fall?”

Jason glanced at her again. She was speaking to him. Her voice had a charming tone to it. A slight accent as well.

“I want to.”

She nodded. “I couldn’t get in this session. It was full. But he’s letting me sit in from time to time.” Jason hadn’t noticed her in class before. Or had he? She did look familiar. She gazed at him with beautiful dark blue eyes. Her shoulder length dark hair fell in layers to her shoulders. Pale, refined features. Exactly the kind of girl he was usually attracted to.

Jason nodded. “It has been an excellent class.” He felt stilted, awkward; not sure of what else to say.

“I already registered for September.” She nodded.

I have got to register for that class,
Jason thought.
Today
.

“Are there seats left?” he asked.

“Not many. I wouldn’t wait.” she advised, dazzling him with a beautiful smile. She extended her hand. “I’m Zavi Verano,” she announced.

“Jason Sterling,” he said taking hold of her delicate hand and shaking it. “I can’t place your accent.”

She laughed a little, perhaps somewhat nervously he thought. It was a pleasantly lilting sound; her voice had a unique quality to it.

“Well, I was born in London, but I grew up in Spain and then France, before we moved back to the UK when I was fifteen. So, I don’t know how to categorize it either.”

“Well, that would explain it. And now you live in Boston?”

“Oh, no, still a resident of the UK. My aunt and uncle both teach at this University, and I wanted to come to school here for the experience, to spend time in the US. So here I am.”

“What is your major?” he asked, then became irked at himself for the cliché question.

She laughed again. “Well, —this week it is still cultural anthropology but I have been thinking of changing to psychology and philosophy. Presently I have been totally enchanted studying the Wodaabe tribe especially—‘the people of the taboo’——do you know of them?” Jason shook his head. “The men make themselves up to look beautiful,” she explained, “and compete with other men showing off their white teeth with exaggerated smiles to attract females. Sometimes their own charisma actually makes some of the men faint.”

Jason laughed. “That’s—actually kind of weirdly charming.” He was already enchanted by her.

“I know—isn’t it?” She laughed. “I find them and their unusual traditions to be quite fascinating. I am still quite interested in them.”

“But now—you’ve gravitated to cinema studies?”

“Oh, no—it has always been cinema for me. I am mad about the movies. I actually had a walk-on in one of Eric Rohmer’s films as a kid in Paris— I was very young but so excited!”

“Get out! He is one of my favorites.” Jason totally liked this girl.

“Mine too! I have seen all of his films I think.”

“You hear people say his films are too ‘talky’ and there is not enough action—that nothing ever happens. But what’s wrong with that? And in an interpersonal sense there is always a lot going on.”

“I totally agree,” she said enthusiastically.

They had coffee after class and shared info about each other. She was intelligent, funny, beautiful, worldly and exotic. Jason was surprised at how comfortable he felt just being with her, as if they had already known each other a long time. They made a date for the weekend to see a movie. Jason was so wrapped up in her, he almost forgot to check his phone. But when he did, there were no calls.