The Vampire (THE VAMPIRE Book 1) (31 page)

“The Crown and Crescent you say?” The gentlemen questioned him over the phone. “I can’t find any such either. Are you sure you have the correct name?”

“I think so. All I have to go by is an old faded piece of paper with some basic information, but no address, and the phone is disconnected I guess, which seems odd. There is mention of a nearby nature preserve, and that it is accessible by boat. It looks like it was a rock and roll venue once—”

“Oh, wait—I think I know the place! I used to go there, in fact! A great place back in the day; I have lots of great memories of it. Quite popular…I haven’t even thought of that place in years…”

“Great! Can you help me to contact them? My employer really wants to book two rooms there, and I can’t seem to reach them.”

“Well, I’m afraid I won’t be able to help you there. That place is gone. Burned down as I recall.”

“What? When did this happen?”

“Well. Let me see. Our oldest, Emma, is thirty-seven—no wait, thirty-eight. And she was born in 1976…and so, let me see…the last time I was at a concert there was just before it went up in flames; a shame really, they never rebuilt it. That would have been around 1963 or so, and I lived in the States for several years after that and then I returned to England and we got married in 1974… So, well, I’m thinking the fire must have been about fifty years ago. Goodness! How fast the time goes by.”

Jason was stunned. Augere had managed to choose a hotel that had burned down fifty years ago. “There must be some mistake. Another Crown and Crescent, maybe…”

“No, not another hotel with the exact same name in London. And not one that fits all the description you gave. Can I help you find another location perhaps?” Jason had to admit defeat. He told the helpful gentleman he might call back. Meanwhile he called Genier and told him the hotel Augere wanted to stay at has been gone for fifty years.

Genier was nonplussed. “I will call my brother. He lives in London and I know he will be able to find what Mr. Augere needs. Don’t worry about it. We will make those arrangements. What else do you have so far?” Jason provided him with the rest of the travel details. He was assured he had done well.

Jason was laying out his ghost hunting equipment, deciding which of it to take. He did not want to be lugging a lot of stuff, but did not want to miss any opportunities to catch paranormal evidence either. Europe was bound to be one of the most haunted places ever. He debated the merits of several items he considered taking, and decided he would trade off two other pieces in order to take the Oracle. The device was pre-programmed to emit random words in an electronic voice, presumably prompted by energy in the environment. It had given him interesting responses on the Gettysburg battlefield: “fell…wounded…fell…many.” He recalled other researchers’ claims that in some of their trials with the Oracle they had heard responses, even foreign phrases or words “spoken” by the device, that were not even in the device’s program database. Yes, the Oracle would definitely be going.

He figured he knew sufficient French to get by, but he purchased a pocket phrase book, just in case. He also bought a small electronic translator, mainly for use in Italy. He had been attempting to add some more useful Italian phrases to the knowledge gained from the single college semester of Italian he had taken several years ago, but there just wasn’t enough time.

Over a romantic dinner he told Zavi he would be away over Thanksgiving, gone for at least a week. As it turned out she was going to be on a trip to New York with some cousins anyway, so that worked out for both of them. And then Jason called his family to tell them he would be in Europe.

“So we’re not going to see you at Thanksgiving?” His mom was clearly disappointed. “What about Christmas? You’re coming home then at least aren’t you?”

“I’ll see if maybe I can stop home for a few days, before the end of the year. I can’t really say right now. I have to wait and see.”

The flight to Venice was long, but his excitement made the trip seem shorter. His first trip to Europe! There would be a few days in Venice on his own, then with Augere. Then they would be in Paris for a few days, and then spend a few days in London, and then home. He felt happy and fortunate to be able to have this experience. The trip would only last about a week, but a lot would be crammed into that short time.

After he checked into the hotel, he obtained a map at the reception desk and then went out to explore Venice on his own, too excited to wait a moment longer.

The city was even better than he had pictured it. Even the light in Venice was different: a golden glow suffused everything. He wandered narrow streets and crossed all sizes of bridges, coming out into charming squares. He was worried he might become lost, but even that concern was forgotten in the excitement of discovery.

He had arranged to do a wine tasting at a restaurant near St. Mark’s. He had imagined there would be small servings, no more than a shot glass. Instead the glasses, four so far, were at least half full, or more. Small plates of delectable snacks, tomatoes and mozzarella, olives and bread, were served in between. The fifth and last glass of wine was laughably huge, requiring two hands to lift, but he managed it and felt quite drunk by then. He found his way back to the hotel, in the dark no less, and was wiped out for the rest of the evening.

He was up and out early the next morning, sitting at a café outdoors along the Grand Canal enjoying the spectacle of life in this charmed city. He felt fully at peace and had no desire to stir from that spot, as he sat back and soaked up the atmosphere. Venice was a feast for the senses.

I have the best job in the world. I could never have imagined an opportunity to have a job that offered a life like this
.

He took a vaporetto to visit Murano, Burano and Torcello, and then another vaporetto to the Lido to see the Grand Hotel, the setting for the film Death in Venice. In his mind he could almost hear the Mahler musical score from the film playing as they crossed the canal.

While it was still daylight, but just toward evening, he took a vaporetto ride the length of the Grand Canal, a trip lasting nearly an hour, marveling at the views of Venetian life along the way: boats loaded with fresh produce; busy and noisy scenes at the markets; police boats, funeral and taxi boats; the various bridges, amazing architecture and all the serene beauty of Venice.
I will never forget this day and this experience
. It was almost indescribably beautiful.

He dined alone. He was comfortable, enjoying his own company, focusing on all of the delights around him. After a several course dinner he savored a cappuccino at an outdoor cafe while enjoying the live orchestral music in Piazza San Marco. He was feeling more comfortable with the sounds of the language now, picking up a few more words here and there. The beauty and cadence of spoken Italian everywhere around him pleasantly washed over him as if it were part of the music playing in the square.

Augere would be arriving the next day. If anything could possibly make Venice even more charming it would be Augere’s presence. Jason was looking forward to seeing him and wondered how much time they might actually spend here together.

And then Augere arrived.
He seems quite at home in this city,
Jason thought as he observed him. Augere wanted to go to the Ca’Rezzonico museum and Jason was invited to accompany him there. Afterward they spent time at the Peggy Guggenheim museum. He loved that Augere appreciated art and museums. It was one experience they had been able to share so far, though Jason was far less knowledgeable about the subject than his employer.

They had had to reserve tickets before leaving Boston for the next day’s visit to the secret chambers of the Doge’s Palace. Augere suggested Jason should enjoy the rest of his evening now, with the implication he would be alone. Perhaps noting Jason’s wistful expression, Augere lingered a while and asked if he was enjoying Venice.

“More than I could even imagine,” Jason replied. “I would definitely return here.” Jason gave him a quizzical look. “What about you? You’ve come all this way, and yet you’re spending so little time here.” They were leaving the day after tomorrow.

“I have been before,” Augere replied. “I always enjoy my time here, however brief.”

Still, Jason pondered, Venice is surely worth seeing again and again. “Have you been here more than once before?” Jason asked. He doubted it could be true.

“A few times.” Augere replied after a longish pause.

Jason nodded. “Will you have coffee with me, at least, in St. Mark’s Square? Before you leave?”

Augere hesitantly acquiesced.

The last golden rays of sunlight highlighted the regal stare of the winged lion and caressed the features of the other statues poised over the Porta della Carta entrance of the Doge’s Palace. A string quartet played lively classical music across the square. At a table outside the Café Florian, Jason and Augere sat leisurely enjoying cups of strong Italian coffee and watched as tourists strolled by.

An elderly man with a mane of snowy white hair that flowed past his collar walked slowly past them with slightly hunched shoulders. Though casually dressed in khaki pants and a white linen shirt he still managed to maintain the appearance of a distinguished university professor. He stopped abruptly in front of Augere and stared at him.

“Dio mio! E impossibile! Laurent!…”

Jason looked up from the translation device he had momentarily been toying with. The man had seemed to recognize Augere. In fact the aged eyes held an insistent certainty, a look of wonder, as they traveled slowly over Augere’s features. He boldly took hold of both of Augere’s hands.

“Ti ricordi di me? E io—il tuo vecchio amico—Alessandro Sabatini.”

Augere leaned forward and gazed into the old man’s eyes. The man still had Augere’s hands clasped in his own.

The man spoke slowly enough and enunciated each word so clearly Jason could easily understand some of the words. He tried entering others into the translator phonetically, with some success.

“Ho cambiato enormemente…ma non tu caro amico. E come se un giorno non e passato…”

I have changed a great deal but for you my friend it is as though not a single day has passed
.

The man continued to stare in wonder at Augere, who made no reply but kept his eyes fixed on the old gentleman’s face. Jason continued to try to translate the words for his own benefit; Augere was fluent in Italian.

“Ci sono stati gli studenti…dell’Universita de Firenze…sessanta cinque anni fa…ma, ti ricordi di me, non e vero?”

You remember me don’t you? We were students together… … in Florence at the university…sixty-five years ago…

Jason stopped using the translator and stared at the stranger.

“Forse e il mio padre che ti ricordi
—”
Augere attempted. Augere’s face bore a sad expression.

The old man shook his head. “Sembra impossibile, ma so che e vero…Laurent.”

The two men leaned in closer, and for several moments Augere spoke soft and soothing words into the old man’s ear, none of which Jason could hear clearly much less understand.

When the old man drew back he had tears in his eyes and he bestowed a kiss to Augere’s hands. Then he stroked Augere’s hair, and stepped back with a nod. Augere stood then and encircled the man in his arms for several long moments. When he released him the old man went on his way with reluctant steps and a lingering glance back at Augere.

Augere took his seat again.

Jason sipped at his coffee wondering what Augere would have to say about the encounter. He hoped there would be some comment; it did not seem polite for him to ask though. What a strange meeting that had been. Clearly the man seemed to have mistaken Augere for someone else. But Jason was not quite sure what he had witnessed.

Finally Augere stated simply, “He might have known my father…perhaps… he confused me with the memory of him.” His gaze fixed on the musicians across the square.

Jason had gotten a slightly different interpretation, but perhaps he had gotten it wrong.

He accepted Augere’s explanation of the strange, sad encounter without another thought.

As the sun set and night began to settle over St. Mark’s Square, Augere’s mellow mood altered. Jason sensed a sadness about him now and wondered if that encounter had been responsible for the change. Perhaps it had brought sad or maybe unwelcome memories of his family. There was so much Jason did not know about him.

Augere left him then, his coffee untouched, and Jason had dinner alone. Tonight he minded eating alone more than he thought he could have, but he would not let himself admit it.
I have to stop seeing myself as his companion,
he reasoned,
and certainly he is not here to be mine
.

The Doge’s Palace was an amazing experience in itself, and they were here to view the hidden rooms only recently opened to the public and only by reservation. They arrived promptly at nine in the morning and they were admitted as part of a very small group, only ten people. They traveled through concealed passageways where the activities of those in charge were often kept secret from the populace. They saw the jail and the torture room, and then finally the Bridge of Sighs from inside. Jason thought Augere appeared somewhat tense in some of the small and overly warm places. Claustrophobic, he remembered.

Augere indulged him afterward by ascending the Campanile with him “I have done this only but once before,” he told Jason. From their high vantage point they saw large cruise ships passing by—“I must do that someday too, take a cruise,” Jason promised himself—as well as the city of Venice sprawled out below. Venice was becoming an inspiration to him. They lingered over the view for a while as Jason took photos amidst the low chatter of several different languages of other tourists. Then Augere surprised him as they exited the Campanile: he suggested they have a ride in a gondola. Jason had wanted to do this but hadn’t yet been able to talk himself into the expensive touristy experience, and thought he might have felt awkward doing this alone. But then how could he think of leaving Venice and not do this? He was delighted with Augere’s suggestion, which made the adventure even more acceptable. Now he had someone to share the experience. He laughed to himself now recalling the tarot cards and the prediction of himself in a gondola. He wondered if Zavi had ever done this; he could picture the two of them here, with him treating her to this romantic gesture. He wistfully hoped that day would come.