The Vampire (THE VAMPIRE Book 1) (27 page)

“By the time of the Enlightenment and the 1800s, the socio-political climate changed again and society viewed them differently. They might have come to be considered as favorites, under the protection of the courts of European nobility. Perhaps this would extend into the Edwardian and Victorian eras as well. Thinking of Tom Thumb and the Elephant Man, and how society came to view those individuals. As acceptable oddities, worthy of being treated with dignity and respect.

“By WWI, they may have fallen out of favor again. Now they have had to become even more of a closed, secret clan, keeping strictly to themselves. Not wanting to appear as ‘foreign’; trying to stay above suspicion but having to constantly hide who they were. By WWII, they may have been persecuted, like so many others were, because they were too different. They would be seen as a threat; subversive; anomalies that did not meet the rigid standards of those in power throughout Europe. A threat to the established order.

“After the world wars, they may have sought to keep themselves separate from society again. To preserve their cultural integrity and safety, etc. they might still choose to remain largely hidden.

“Then, during the 1950s through the 1980s and beyond, they may have begun to be regarded variously as aliens and hybrids; visitors from other worlds. And then perhaps they might also be regarded as a New Age phenomenon. Like Indigo children. Or maybe even seen as shamans. So by modern day and present times they might now be regarded as desirable again, even seen as romanticized beings with special abilities and powers; a race of mystical people. And perhaps—given all their strange attributes—there might even be speculation they are or could have been the genesis of vampires! They might even enjoy a new status given the overall acceptance of vampires in popular culture.”

She looked up from her notes. “Well, what do you think of the idea so far? Pretty wild, huh?”

She found him gazing off elsewhere with a preoccupied expression. He slowly turned his attention back to her.

“Well, I think it is a very interesting idea. I think you are right on target with your chosen theme for this project…Uhm, where did you say you got this information, this research?” She showed him the list of websites she had visited. His right temple was throbbing but he did not have a headache. His queasiness returned a little more strongly.

“Great then! I’ll fill in the gaps with some more details, some more political intrigue, social climates and any other factors I can make significant or other things that may have influenced them. Will you read it when it’s done, and then critique it for me?”

He gazed into her eyes. He would be glad for any chance, the future promise, to see her again, outside of class. He really liked this girl: smart and funny; sexy and beautiful, with a great imagination and fun sense of humor. If their relationship turned serious, if it became physical as well, that would make him extremely happy. But he felt a little uncomfortable being with her just now. A vague feeling of uneasiness hung over him. Again he blamed it on the lingering effects of his recent illness.

When he got home late that afternoon and checked his phone for messages there were none from Augere, however there was one he didn’t immediately recognize. He called the number. A young woman answered and he was immediately connected to Genier. It was a little break in the usual procedure, but not a big deal.

“Hi, Jason. I just wanted you to know I did speak with Mr. Augere. He has made no mention of Savannah yet, and neither did I. I am still hoping he will tell me himself. I did find out what has made him distracted and irritable: he has lost an item he has had for quite a long time—well, one that belonged to his family for a very long time. He has no idea where he lost it, and it has quite upset him. It probably seems a little extreme for anyone to be so upset over something like this, but that is the way he is. Generally it seems he is more attached to material things than to people.”

“What was the item? Maybe I could look around for it.”

“Yes, that would be good. It could be somewhere in the house. It is a small silver fleur de lis—do you know what I’m referring to? Very old looking; as I recall it was attached to a small piece of leather. He would wear it on his wrist sometimes.”

“Yes, I’ve seen it before. Okay. I’ll look around for it.”

After he ended the call with Genier, Jason thought about Genier’s words. They seemed to explain something he had not been able to clearly define until now.

Augere was more than employer, but not quite friend.

He remained almost always aloof, cold and detached even. And the more detached he grew, the more Jason sought to be in his presence. Jason definitely felt an intellectual pull toward him; but it had become an almost physical need to be in his presence at times; an irresistible one. He thought about the past few days when Augere had been right there: so close and so attentive, to the point it would have bothered Jason to realize it, if he had not been so out of it most of the time. How ironic for him to be so close when Jason was unable to interact much. He did not like to admit it but Jason sometimes worried maybe he was starting to experience an emotional attraction as well. But—it did not feel so much infatuation as that Augere was more like a magnet that compelled him in ways he was beginning to feel powerless to ignore. An element of frustration lay in their dealings that Jason had been unable to define until just then. Genier confirmed Augere was more attached to things than to people. Maybe it meant he probably felt as uncomfortable around Jason as Jason sometimes did with him.

Jason searched for the lost item everywhere he could think of within the house. He called the train station, the hotel, the taxi company—everywhere he could imagine the item might have been lost specifically related to Savannah. Then he called the places they had been in Montreal, since he did not know exactly when the item had been lost. Everywhere he called he left a number where he could be reached in case the item was found. He could only give a vague description of it as he had seen it only briefly at times. A small fleur de lis charm with a pewter look to it. He recalled little else in terms of detail.

On a crisply cool Saturday morning, he obtained Augere’s permission to take the car for several hours and drove to Salem. Jason considered inviting him, but really needed this time, and activity, to himself. He made no mention of where he was going, and Augere did not ask.

Salem was bustling with people as the yearly Haunted Happenings had already begun, and it would go on for another two weeks or so. Having gotten there very early meant he got a decent parking spot. Jason wandered the streets, taking in all of the decorations, activities and the excitement of the crowds. He almost regretted he had not invited Zavi. But he reasoned why: what if she didn’t share his enthusiasm for all things Halloween? He really did not want to face that disappointment, not so early in their relationship. He needed to be able to fully enjoy this right now. He needed this distraction today.

He wandered along Derby Street, contemplating ending up at the House of Seven Gables, when he came to a small shop. It was similar to many others in the area, and yet it still managed to stand out. A skeleton wind chime hanging from a flower pot holder beside the door caught his eye—the bones rattled and danced in the chill of a sudden breeze. He peered into one of the large windows of the shop and saw another wind chime, a wooden one hanging by a hook from above. They were stars painted in gradually darkening shades of blue and each star had a phrase painted on it:
Light fades, stars appear, evening angels, gather here
.

He continued to look around at the inside of the shop through the window. Not a lot of touristy stuff, which might have enticed him in anyway. But it held a great many curiosities: tarot cards; jewelry; posters; teas and herbs. Maybe he could find some kind of gift for Augere in here. He hadn’t been able to come up with any other ideas so far.

Tiny silver bells sounded as he entered. A young girl with smooth red gold shoulder-length hair was standing at a counter dipping a tea bag into a cup of water. She gave him a shy smile. He nodded and smiled, and then started looking around the shop.

So many interesting things to see. A sign on one of the walls stated: tarot card readings, dream analysis, palm readings, past life regressions. All of those appealed to him, but the dream analysis in particular caught his attention. He kept looking around for a while as he contemplated getting a reading of some sort done.

A glass case in the center of the shop held various talismans, amulets and charms: pentacles, several small athames; worry beads from Greece; pendulums; small satin and cloth bags to fill with one’s own choices of protective herbs, charms, and crystals. He loved the scent of the place, the air fragranced by a combination of different incense smells.

“I’d be interested in the dream analysis,” he told the young girl as she stood at the counter sipping her tea. She nodded and then turned and called “Mom” toward a room behind her, past the counter.

A seemingly not much older version of the young girl emerged through a beaded curtain that had a black and purple spider in a web design worked into it. Her hair was longer than her daughter’s and more red than gold. A long black skirt that nearly swept the floor accented her slender frame, worn with a black and white herringbone vest over a crisp white shirt. She had an intense, serious expression, softened by a look of ready humor in her dark green eyes.

“Hi,” she said to him. “My name is Redlyn. How can I help you?”

“Hi. I was wondering if I could get an analysis of a dream I had.”

“Do you remember it in detail?”

“Well, yes. And I also have details of it written down. Usually I can deconstruct my own dreams, but this one seems a little elusive. I’m just curious about it.”

She nodded. “You can step back here. I just heated water for tea. Help yourself if you want.”

The back room was quite cozy. Once a parlor probably, there was a small fireplace on one wall. A round table covered with a silver brocade cloth sat on a small round rug worked in a Celtic design. This table held a silver candlestick lamp with a burgundy shade. Along another wall was a full bookcase and then a console table with drawers; an electric tea pot was steaming there. Cups, assorted teas and accompaniments were available.

“You’ve been ill,” she said to Jason with a concerned look. “Your energy is very low. You are quite drained.”

Jason nodded, unwilling to elaborate. He was surprised she picked up on his illness. He looked and felt better. He selected Constant Comment and poured hot water over the teabag, adding honey and stirring it. He began to chat nervously. “I’ve only been here, in Salem, a few times but it seems everyone I’ve met here is from somewhere else. How about you?” He immediately liked her; liked the shop. He breathed in the fragrance of the steaming tea while other enticing scents and the burning wood stove in view added to the homey ambience and cozy warmth of the place.

She laughed gaily. “A lot of people assume I am right off the boat from Ireland. My family arrived here generations ago. I’m from Minnesota, actually. We, my two daughters and I, moved here almost five years ago.”

“I’m from Minnesota too!” Jason laughed. They compared addresses and chatted about the charms of Minnesota for several minutes.

“What brought you to Boston?” she asked.

“I went to college here; moved back home and then I recently got a new job offer here, so I moved back.”

They discussed the price which Jason found quite reasonable. She mentioned including a palm or card reading, if he liked. He nodded but would decide which one later.

“Shall we begin?” she inquired.

Jason retrieved one of his notebooks and a digital voice recorder from his messenger bag.

“Is it okay if I tape this, as well as taking notes?”

“Of course.” She inclined her head. “I will need to take notes also.”

He set up the recorder then reached around in his bag for a pen. He withdrew several, one of which surprised him: he recognized it as one of Augere’s fountain pens. One he seemed to use quite often in fact. Augere must have left it behind on the bedside table, resting there unnoticed until Jason had quickly scooped it up with the rest of his stuff.

He opened the notebook containing the dream details.

“Thinking of the day of your dream, first tell me anything of significance that happened or failed to happen on that day.”

He told her about the circumstances surrounding the dream, referring to his notes, as she jotted down details.

Jason mentioned the long train ride, seeming even more tiresome now in retrospect, and the excitement of his first trip to Savannah. Taken there by his employer, and not knowing why or what to expect. How he had felt a little ill beforehand but had brushed it off. He made general comments about the house, mentioning it was very dark, in a state of decay, old, dusty; it seemed different from the house in his dream though.

“Now, I need to hear the dream, as much of it as you can remember; any detail or fragment at all is important.”

Jason nodded. Recalling the dream now, focusing on details, he felt as if he were reliving the experience as he told her the tale.

“So, your state of mind—going into this actual house: tired, hot and uncomfortable; not knowing what to expect and feeling somewhat ill.”

He nodded as she took notes.

“You are in an unfamiliar place; in a weakened state, both physically and emotionally uncomfortable. The house you said was—quite dark. You were a somewhat reluctant participant there—in the dark—about what was going on. So now we have a sense of some of the precipitating factors that could have influenced the dream.”

That’s a good start so far
. Jason nodded.

“The way this works is: I will give you my impressions, which serve to guide your own interpretation. I will ask you questions which are intended to cause you to come up with interpretations too, because aspects of the dream will have relevance to you that I may not know of or see. We often create our own dream scenarios; sometimes there is a message, but not always. Sometimes we are too close to the subject and we cannot see it clearly. There is such a thing as universal symbols in dreams—but I believe these are relevant only so far as these are directly relevant and meaningful to you. Things can have multiple or even opposite meanings within the same dream, and sometimes at the same time. Don’t be too quick to accept or reject meanings; don’t look too deep but don’t take everything at face value either. Sometimes meanings are not readily apparent but come to have significance at a later time, in a different context. It may be months from now, when some of the meaning becomes clearer to you. That is something to keep in mind. I’d like to get your impressions of the dream first. What is it about this dream that seems to disturb you the most?”