The Vampire (THE VAMPIRE Book 1) (34 page)

The conversation and the absinthe were playing on Jason’s imagination. Weird thoughts and ideas had to be pushed aside. “Maybe I should go, before the Green Fairy starts dancing on the bar…” Jason mumbled to himself. The place was getting busier. The music was a little louder now. It was getting late. He really was tired.

And on his wrist—what? What had the bartender been about to say? Jason wondered, as he left the bar leaving a large tip and his sincere thanks.

The bartender had been about to say more…but suddenly Jason grew too weary to hear more. It didn’t seem important to hear the rest now. It wasn’t going to matter.

Jason wandered in the general direction of the metro. The absinthe brought new clarity to his thoughts. This was his last night in Paris. They had most of the day tomorrow here as well. He was not eager for his time in Paris to be over.

The absinthe made him focus. The weight of a multitude of small details, seemingly significant even by themselves, became a ponderous thing when taken collectively, and the weight of this began to bear down heavily on him. Alert and quite lucid in mind, but now physically weary and wanting very much to get to sleep, all he wanted was to rest.

Augere.

He felt too tired suddenly for the metro. He just wanted to be back at the hotel. Within a few blocks of walking, he came to a hotel where a taxi was just dropping off an elderly couple and he was able to get their cab. He gratefully sank into the back seat and he gave the address of his hotel.

No. Unwanted thoughts started to intrude on his lucid calm. His mind and body were lacking the strength to resist. No. It is not possible. It just isn’t. It’s too crazy.

“Some people cannot accept the idea that ghosts, spirits, EVP, and all manner of paranormal phenomena could be real. You know better,” he said to himself. “You have seen and experienced unbelievable things.”
Yeah, but I am pretty sure it is not possible to be living under the same roof with a mythical, supernatural and very dangerous being and yet be totally unaware of it……

He arrived at the hotel and entered the lobby. He headed straight for the bar. More alcohol was probably not the answer he was seeking, but he was not ready for any other answers just now. He was mentally trying to prepare the French phrases in his mind to ask the bartender for an antidote for too much absinthe and too much imagination.

And there was Augere. Sitting in the bar’s lounge area, with several people gathered around him, engaged in conversation. Jason breathed a long sigh of relief. He’s probably been here, or elsewhere with these friends, all evening.

As Jason gazed at him he took in all the details of his appearance, as he invariably did, always as if seeing him for the first time. Jason stood unseen in the shadows near the entrance to the bar, free to stare openly. He noted the regal posture, which he felt was suggestive of a military bearing or excruciatingly good manners; the extreme paleness and the youthful face; the long dark hair, always casually groomed. As Jason studied Augere, he mentally superimposed the description given by the bartender. Yes, it did seem as if the description could fit perfectly. But there was no way this could be. As fascinating as that idea might seem, he just could not take it seriously. It was not just the skeptic in him talking; it was cold reality. Just because one man, who seemed sane enough, was convinced of it, didn’t mean it was really true. Such things did not exist. No matter how convincing the story. And besides, Augere had been in the company of these others, probably all evening.

Jason continued to watch, surprised at having caught Augere in a rare unguarded moment. He looked over the faces of those gathered around him and they appeared captivated by him; taken with his good looks, his charm and his gracious manners.

Even his friends,
Jason mused,
are not immune to his compelling presence
. He glanced away for a moment, and when he looked in Augere’s direction again, Augere was looking directly at him even as he remained in the shadows. Augere nodded then and made a gesture for Jason to come forth. Jason hesitated, shook his head, but then began walking toward him as Augere rose to his feet in a fluid motion and appeared to be taking leave of his companions. They appeared reluctant to part company with him. Jason could well understand that.

“I didn’t mean to disturb you; please don’t let me keep you from your friends.”

“Pleasant enough company.” Augere shrugged. “But I know none of them. They sought me out in the bar. You have rescued me. Shall we walk, and have a drink elsewhere?” He was looking at Jason in that intense studying way he had. Jason met the steady gaze, focusing on the extraordinary color of those eyes…eyes not easily forgotten.

“Yes, sure,” Jason replied a little hesitantly. He was mentally, emotionally and physically exhausted and wanted only to climb into bed. But somehow he could not refuse.

They exited the hotel. Augere walked briskly and Jason had some difficulty keeping up. It would be difficult to engage in conversation; he was already nearly out of breath just walking.
Was that the idea? To avoid conversation?
Finally, he had to ask Augere if he would slow down a little. Without a word or glance, Augere slowed to a comfortable pace.

“Did you have a good day?” Jason asked him.

“Yes,” Augere replied.

They walked on for several more blocks.

“Where did you go?” Augere asked him pointedly. Jason hadn’t expected the question.

“Everywhere.” Jason laughed nervously. “I found some great shops that sold gothic goods.” He glanced at Augere for some positive response on the subject. There was none. “I even found a place that served absinthe.”

“Hmmm.”

Had Augere paused just slightly first? Had there been just a hint of tension? Jason wasn’t sure.

He observed once more that Augere was dressed all in black, including a long black trench coat; a thin black silky scarf over a casual black T-shirt, black jeans.

“I did as well,” Augere replied.

Jason swallowed hard. “Where was that?”

This time there was a longish pause before Augere replied. “Les Furieux. In the eleventh arrondisement.”

“How was it?” Jason asked. It was the same place Jason had visited first. The one that had been too sedate.

“Fine.”

There was silence for another block.

“I tried to find that place too. But I found another one instead. It was very good. I can’t remember the name of it just now.” Jason realized that was true; he could not recall the name of the bar where he had heard the intriguing story.

Augere had apparently walked them in a wide circle in the neighborhood, as they were now approaching the hotel again from the opposite direction. Jason wondered about getting another drink. The subject had not come up again. They entered the lobby and rode the elevator to their floor and respective rooms in silence. Jason’s weary thoughts were racing.

As they exited the elevator, Augere asked him, “What are your plans for the morning?” They were taking the Chunnel to London later in the day.

“Sleep in a little and then visit the Catacombs.”

“May I accompany you?” Augere asked. “It is a long time since I have ventured there.”

“Yes, sure.” Jason’s immediate response was an enthusiastic one. But then a moment later he wondered if that was really such a good idea.

He looked into Augere’s eyes intently. He thought of all the times he had wanted to spend more time with him and talk to him. Now, inexplicably, he felt a sense of fear at the prospect of doing so. Of being alone with him. But something in Augere’s eyes was distracting him now. There seemed to be a hint of sadness there.

Augere quickly averted his gaze. “Bon soir,” he said as he turned to go to his room.

“Bon soir.” Jason called after him.

Jason securely locked his door and then hastily washed his face as he began to strip off his clothes. He fell into bed and was asleep almost immediately.

The next morning he was up by 9:00 a.m., standing at the sink, about to brush his teeth. His sudden yawn turned into a huge laugh.

The fatigue of last evening; the absinthe; the strange compelling story told by the bartender; and probably just the excitement of being in Paris had no doubt overworked his imagination. In the cold light of day it was hard to imagine he had actually taken any of it seriously, even briefly. A vampire? Augere? True, it was all very interesting. He doubted he would ever forget it. A strange intangible souvenir he would take from Paris. But Jason laughed out loud again. “I will have to tell him about this sometime. We can share a good laugh about it.”

He was downstairs having breakfast by 9:30 and there was no sign of Augere. The catacombs did not open until ten. Jason had read that the lines could be long. He hoped Augere would be ready. It appeared they would be getting into the line late as it was.

Their time in Paris had been all too brief, but he felt contented with all he had done. He and Augere had managed to spend some time at d’Orsay. There had just been too much to see and do and not enough time. But he felt good this morning; well rested; accomplished. There were no after effects from the absinthe. It might not have been as potent as the turn of the century stuff, but he still marveled at his experience, one he considered nearly mystical. No wonder artists and writers considered absinthe their muse. You could remain lucid and calm but it was as if a door to all that was fantastical had opened before you. A realm where all things—magical, wondrous, and supernatural—were possible. He felt as if he had truly had his own brush with the Green Fairy, and he loved it. Moderation was the key.

He went back to his room to retrieve his packed luggage to leave with the concierge. He recognized Augere’s luggage, already stored there. Good. He should be here momentarily, Jason thought. Perhaps he was having some breakfast…though that seemed unlikely. He never did.
Why bother to choose places that have a great breakfast included, if you never take advantage of it?
Jason wondered.

As he waited in the lobby, he spotted a framed poster on one of the walls. It was an image of snow covered Alps and he gazed at it for a while. He had noticed it last night for the first time, when they had returned late, and now the image fully captured his attention again. It reminded him of something…

He was thinking of having a second cup of coffee but then changed his mind when the memory of last night’s dream suddenly came to him. He started remembering details of it now; that poster had brought forth the memory.

He was all alone on a big mountain in the dark. The sky was starlit and beautiful and he was skiing down the mountain. It was just barely light enough for him to see where he was going. He saw himself: confident, capable and navigating the twisting slopes with ease. He felt in control as he glided effortlessly. The air was refreshingly cold and crisp as it rushed over him, and the snow glittering in the moonlight brought him a sense of exhilaration. He was feeling totally alive and connected to himself and his surroundings.

Then suddenly a feeling of uneasiness filled him. An avalanche was coming. He just knew it; it seemed that “everyone” knew it. The force of it was building up even as he skillfully maneuvered the mountain. He was nervous because it was going to be right in his path. It threatened everything; nothing would ever be the same again once this avalanche fell. It would engulf him. He should try to avoid it, but it was so powerful and so inevitable, a force of nature he had no control over. He didn’t see how it could be avoided. The snow was going to come crashing down, and there was nothing he could do about it. In the dream he felt as if he was trying to “hold it off as long as possible.” But that would not make sense; such a thing would be impossible.

The more he looked at the snowy image, the more uneasy he began to feel. He was trying to analyze the meaning of his dream.

He had only ever skied once in his life, badly, and he did not have a particular desire to do it again. In the dream he was, and he felt, quite alone and isolated; “in the dark” about things. But at the same time he felt as if he were on top of things; handling all of it; taking on something he had never done before and managing it quite well. In the dream he had a sense of confidence and of accomplishment. As for the avalanche, he just—but Augere was coming around the corner now. Jason greeted him and the dream was forgotten as they exited the hotel.

It was a pleasantly cool morning, for late autumn. Jason suggested they take the Metro and received a look of dismay from Augere.

“It’s only seven stops. We could probably be there faster than the taxi. Which we are having no luck finding right now even near the hotel.”

Augere sighed heavily and followed Jason reluctantly into the subway station. He looked around him nervously and paid attention to all that Jason did. Jason suddenly remembered Augere’s dislike of being in crowded places; his claustrophobia. Jason stayed close by, offering words of encouragement, feeling a little lightheaded himself in the crowded and too warm Metro station.

They sat opposite each other. Augere sat stiffly, gazing all around him, and looking the picture of discomfort. The cars were not too crowded at this hour. Jason began to wonder if Augere was going to be able to handle being in the Catacombs. He had heard the location could be pretty claustrophobic. And—it suddenly occurred to him—how was Augere going to handle the Chunnel? Had he done that before? Jason started to get a little worried for Augere’s sake. But then, he had asked to go. He must know what he was getting into, right? He almost seemed— weird to say it, but kind of emotionally fragile at times, Jason thought, especially out in public. But only in certain situations. At a loss as to how to cope with everyday things sometimes. Crowded or small spaces were definitely things he did not deal with very well. Jason hoped the upcoming situations were not going to be a problem for Augere.

They arrived at the nondescript entrance. People were filing in, and two dozen people, at least, were ahead of them. When it got to be their turn to enter, the woman manning the entrance made a dismissive gesture. Shook her head. She refused to take the money Jason tried to hand to her. He did not understand, and his French was getting him nowhere. Why wouldn’t she let them in?