The Vampire (THE VAMPIRE Book 1) (29 page)

This was really worrying him. “About what? Can you tell?”

“Everything falls asunder, is ripped apart, and must be carefully put back together. This card here”—she pointed to it—“highly unusual to see this card within this context. This situation, whatever it is, is quite out of the ordinary. You would likely never see anything like this ever again, not in thousands more tarot card readings.” She shook her head.

“Is it anything to do with health? Or getting hurt?”
Maybe I don’t need to be going on any trips,
he thought.

“Let me see your palm.” He offered his right palm to her without hesitation.

She studied it for some time. “There is—an injury—a slight one, but with somewhat unusual consequences.” She studied his palm some more. “It seems to occur in the future, perhaps months or years from now. Otherwise, I see no serious health issues. I see a very long life for you.”

Jason breathed a sigh of relief.

She turned over several more tarot cards and lined these up within the set pattern. She looked over the cards again and frowned. “Here it is again…I had this impression of you earlier, when you first came in. A sense of ever present danger surrounding you. Do you take a lot of risks? Do extreme sports? Deliberately put yourself in danger?”

Jason looked at her as he tried to think of any such instances. “I do some paranormal research. Ghost hunting.” He shrugged. “There is an element of fear. But not danger.”

“I don’t think it is that,” She said with a thoughtful expression. “I think you should take this danger seriously. You will need protection. I should tell you this—” She looked up at him. “My cards never lie. My interpretations of them may be overly subjective at times, but the cards themselves are never false.

“I’m afraid I see a lot of turmoil, indecision, strong emotion in the months ahead. This is unavoidable. Things will be very difficult for a while. There could be some family strife. But this card”—she pointed to another—“indicates you will have help from unexpected sources. People around you who are there to help and will help you, maybe behind the scenes. Ultimately there will be a favorable outcome.”

Jason sighed deeply. “Well, you have given me a lot to think about.”

She nodded. “You may be skeptical about this, but I would like to provide you with elements of protection—will you accept those?”

Jason was too nervous not to accept. What was the harm? He nodded and took a sip of the soothing Earl Grey.

She went to the front of the store and returned ten minutes later with a small drawstring bag; she had filled it with various herbs and a few small items—talismans perhaps. She showed him two small charms: a pentacle and an eye of Horus. “These are not terribly expensive,” she stated. “I would select at least one of them.”

“I’ll take both,” Jason stated.

She placed both in the small bag with the other items. “Carry this with you. Always. It will protect you in your ghost investigations also.” She smiled. “There are some rather unpleasant things in that realm.”

She sat down at the table again, as Jason looked over the bag she had handed to him.

She picked up the fountain pen once more.

“There it is again…” she said in awe. “There is just an amazing energy that surrounds this pen. It has borne witness to intense emotion, sadness, loss; I sense it has traveled widely; an extraordinary journey. There is a strong force connected to it, compelling even…a passionate nature; a complex and contradictory individual; capable of great cruelty but extreme kindness and generosity also; a detachment…an extraordinary—a very extraordinary—kind of… life…”

Jason just stared at her and then at the pen.

“The owner of this pen—” she said, turning her gaze from it finally, “—may I ask what his name is?”

“Etienne.” Jason answered. He didn’t know why he suddenly lied about the name.

“I really think I would love to meet him someday.”

Suddenly, she frowned and stared at the pen in her hand. Then a strange expression came over her features.

“It can’t be…” she said, half in a whisper. “That…that isn’t supposed to happen.”

“What?” Jason asked her. “What happened?”

Suddenly she put the pen down on the table and stared at it. Several long moments passed before she spoke.

“On second thought, maybe that is not such a good idea. That I ever meet him.”

She shifted her gaze from the pen to Jason’s face now, and tension pulled around her eyes and at the corners of her mouth. She had a look of apprehension now.

“What is it Redlyn?”

She shook her head. “It just seemed…for a few moments there…it seems impossible…I’ve never experienced anything like this…happening in reverse.” She laughed nervously, a forced attempt at humor. “It felt as if someone was trying to read me while I held the pen, instead of the other way around.” Her eyes held a worried look now.

Redlyn’s throat was tight and suddenly dry. An unexpected fear rose in her. In that moment, just briefly, but unmistakably, she had seen something. A certainty that could not be uttered out loud. A dangerous and deadly malevolence. A visceral truth. She looked at Jason, wondering. But it just couldn’t be. She had to have been mistaken. If it were true, surely, he would have to know about it. He had to know.

Jason finished the last of his tea, and stood up, gathering his things. “How much do I owe you, Redlyn?”

She walked somewhat mechanically to the front of the store and he followed her. She was tallying up the items on a handwritten store receipt, and then she handed it to him.

“$60? That’s all?”

“That’s mainly for the fleur de lis,” she stated.

Jason shook his head. “This experience has been worth more than that, truly.” He handed her two $50s from the wallet in his messenger bag.

“Really, that is too kind—this has been a very unusual experience for me as well, Jason. That is why I didn’t want to charge—”

He shook his head. “Worth it—totally,” he assured her.

“I hope you will let me know how things turn out,” she said sincerely. “I feel a little worried about you.”
But he is not the only one who might be in danger now
.

“Now that sounds like my mom talking; did she put you up to this?” Jason laughed. “You know her, from Minnesota, don’t you?”

Redlyn’s laugh was strained. “I’m under strict orders not to tell.” Redlyn’s daughter had joined her now, and Redlyn put her arm around the young girl and pulled her close. She wondered if her daughter noticed the tension in the gesture and the worry behind her somewhat shaky smile.

“I would definitely love to come back even if it is just to chat and have tea. I thoroughly enjoyed and appreciate this experience.” He promised to return soon and then left.

“Mom, what is it? You seem a little shaky.”

Redlyn hesitated, as if uncertain how much to say. After a few moments she said, “There is a vast realm…of things that could be real; that might actually exist. Things it would seem could not possibly be real. Today I learned one of those things might actually exist.” She looked at her daughter with a sad expression. “I hope I am wrong.”

****

Jason walked back toward the center of town. He wanted to linger in Salem a while longer—after all, he had a great parking spot!—and the experience with Redlyn had left him emotionally drained. He needed the fun diversion of some of Salem’s well done haunted houses. He shopped in several more places and bought Salem T-shirts and a few Halloween themed items; visited the Witch Museum; though he’d been there a number of times, he still enjoyed having that emotional experience. He visited Laurie Cabot’s shop and bought several items there. He bought one of her books, identical to one he had left in Minnesota, hoping to get it signed by her, but the lines were too long just then and he decided to return with the book another time. He did wait in line to visit several of the haunted houses though, which helped to further push aside the events of the day. Plenty of time to think about all that later.

Before he could leave town he had to stop at the Dunkin Donuts on the main street. This had become a tradition, more of a superstition now, that he had to stop there whenever he came to town, or “something bad would happen if he didn’t!” He laughed to himself, but he knew: he wasn’t going to risk it.

It looks as if there might be enough trouble ahead as it is,
he thought, as he took a sip of his DD coffee and started up the car.
If I choose to believe all of it
.

Chapter 14

Fleur de Lis

Jason just made it to the mall store he had in mind before it closed. The mall was out of his way home from Salem but he didn’t want to have to drive all the way out there again and delay getting a gift for Augere. He quickly managed to find the perfect T-shirt: a green on black design with an absinthe theme. An intoxicated green fairy hanging precariously from a tall, elaborately patterned glass, etched with the word absinthe all done in Art Nouveau style.

He entered the kitchen from the garage and though not at all hungry, having just eaten in Salem, he knew once he got to his room he would soon be hungry and thirsty again. He made a generous sized turkey sandwich, piling on lettuce, provolone, tomato, and sweet peppers and then filled a carafe with hot tea. He put these on a tray and grabbed a root beer and fresh fruit before heading to his room.

Now it had become his habit to take a glance toward the library on his way to his quarters. When the doors were closed, as they were now, that was usually a sign Augere was not present. When the doors were open it seemed an invitation, if Jason interpreted that correctly, from Augere. And had they been open now, Jason would have had to go in. He would do so no matter what other plans he might have had. Augere had definitely become an obsession.

An irrational irritation overtook him. Why couldn’t Augere be available? What else did he have to do? Where else did he have to be? Why couldn’t he be a little less secretive; less withdrawn and more accessible? Jason released a heavy sigh along with his pent up frustration.
Of course I respect his privacy. I just wish there was a lot less of it to respect
.

Jason showered and crawled into bed. There was no class tomorrow, because of Columbus Day.
Good; I’ll stay up late and watch TV
. He planned out his late night viewing: Some Seinfeld episodes; then maybe catch one of the better paranormal shows, and then maybe the History channel, or Discovery for a while. No guilty pleasures available at this hour: No Wife Swap or Swamp People. Then he found Casablanca was going to be on at 1AM. Perfect.

As Kramer and Jerry swapped apartments on an episode of Seinfeld, Jason drank lemon and honey tea and rummaged in his messenger bag. He retrieved Augere’s fountain pen.

He turned it over in his hands. Felt the heft of it. It seemed like just an ordinary pen. He didn’t know if he really believed all the things Redlyn had said. But…she had seemed to get spooked there for a moment.
What was that about?
Jason shrugged. She did seem genuine to him. Personable and easy to talk to. He had felt comfortable in her presence and had enjoyed the experience though it had spooked him a little too. She had gotten a lot of things right; her comments felt accurate to him. They gave him a lot to think about. He drank more of the tea. He had been reluctant to leave her shop and might have lingered longer. But restlessness had taken him suddenly. He felt as if he had to go.

His thoughts wandered from the TV viewing. The meeting and time spent with Redlyn had felt pleasantly social. Apart from seeing Zavi and attending his film class, for the most part he was rather socially isolated. Generally he was okay with that. But he wouldn’t mind more social interaction if it meant intelligent and interesting conversation.

He gazed at the fountain pen again. He felt somewhat guilty for still having it. Well, it wasn’t like he saw Augere every day to give it back to him. Yes, he could have knocked on his door. Except Augere had said never to knock unless it was an emergency. And this clearly was not.

He had seen Augere use this pen many times. He used it to write in his journal. And that journal, if left lying around, would be a temptation to read, though Jason wouldn’t do it.

The journal was kept locked in Augere’s desk drawer. Augere must be missing this pen, though he had others. But then, it had to have lain there on Jason’s table for days, and Augere hadn’t mentioned it either. Probably because he had lost something else now, so maybe he hasn’t even thought about the missing pen yet.

By the time Jason turned his attention to the TV again one of his favorite episodes was over. Damn. Well the Crazy Joe Divola episode was coming up. He’d seen them all but he enjoyed watching them again. But his attention wandered once more.

Other possible interpretations of his dream were out there, of course. And he had left out a few things. He hadn’t mentioned the box in the dream had turned into a coffin. He didn’t know why he had omitted that; too weird maybe. Or how in the dream he had felt “Etienne”—and why had he really felt it necessary to be protective about the name?—had been there with him even though he didn’t see him. A presence felt, but unseen.
So which one of us is really the dark, complex mystery with many secrets?
And what was the significance of the coffin? Or—another idea—maybe it was just a really creepy, haunted house kind of dream. An overactive imagination fueled by exhaustion and illness and an actual visit to a really dusty and neglected old house. That interpretation seemed just as likely. He set the pen aside and had more of the tea while it was still hot and watched TV for a while.

He picked up the pen again and surprised himself with the thought
I really don’t want to give it back yet
. You can tell a lot about a person, she had said, by holding a personal object of theirs. She had gotten several things right about him just from this one object. Jason suspected she knew more. That she had seen…something…else. But, what? And why hadn’t she told him, then? She was the closest he had gotten to unraveling some of the mystery of Augere.

He had an idea. Redlyn suspected the pen was very old. Jason wanted to take it to a pen shop—not the one on Bromfield, where he always went to get Augere his ink. The other one, on Revere—he’d gone there by mistake once, thinking just any pen store would do. He would see what they could tell him about the pen. After all, when was he ever going to get this chance again? To be in temporary possession of something so personal that belonged to Augere—he had to make the best use of this opportunity.