Zamani (10 page)

Chapter
Fourteen

Christophe was aware of a
strange energy at the ceremony as his sister offered remembrances of those they
lost in the last year at the opening of the ritual.
 
He was lost in the drumbeats when they
entered, and as his sister talked, he picked her out of the crowd.
 
She really didn’t look different from
the other attendees.
 
He couldn’t
explain it, but he felt drawn to her in much the same way he had felt drawn to
Olivia the first time he’d seen her.
 
He felt the same sort of control and raw power, too, as her eyes met
his.

He wondered if anyone else
felt it. He was relieved to start drumming again and to turn off his mind,
letting himself go. Later, as the dancing stopped and the feast began,
Christophe realized the woman was gone.
 
While her absence was on one level comforting, he also felt a loss and
confusion.
 
He’d never known anyone
other than Olivia to have that attraction for him, and he hadn’t questioned her
power over him.
 
Who was this woman
and why was he so drawn to her?

Later, as he loaded the
drums and helped Vivienne get their grandmother home, he felt frustrated over
his role in everything.
 
While his
sister was a Mambo, his family had never invested enough interest in him to allow
him to train as a Houngan.
 
To be
fair, Christophe had never shown the calling, but he wondered at times if that
was because it wasn’t encouraged. Vivienne was not much older than he, yet his
earliest memory of her was that she was always encouraged to learn—first
at their mother Rosalie’s skirts, then at University and through her travels,
and finally now from their grandmother. He was always the help in the family--there
to drum, there to help load equipment, there to drive Marie to appointments.

With Olivia, things were
different at first; she’d let him feel powerful, teasing him into believing he
was the one who chose her--that he was the one who enthralled and seduced
her.
 
That feeling of power over her
changed when she asked him to make Tim Clark his first solo feed.
 
He would rather have chosen his own
mark, but she’d been insistent. he owed her this favor, she claimed, and he had
no choice.
 
At the time, he thought
perhaps she was jealous and she couldn’t stand if he chose another woman as his
first mark. In the months since Tim Clark’s death, she’d had no problem allowing
him to choose who he fed from. Her ambivalence made it clear to Christophe that
her choice was based on her own agenda, not some need to feel she was the only
woman in his bed.

He’d been just a tool for
her, just as he was a convenience for his grandmother and sister.
 
But, if there were others like him, he
wondered if he could release himself from Olivia’s power.
 
Even now, as he drove his grandmother
home, he felt Olivia touching his mind and calling to him. He resisted the pull
as best he could, feeling some protection from the ceremony and his
grandmother’s presence, but he still yearned to go to her despite his anger and
confusion.

Vivienne followed in her car;
she had special offerings to place on Rosalie’s altar.
 
The altar still sat in the lower living
area of Christophe’s carriage house that had once been Rosalie’s space.
 
Their grandmother didn’t ask to join
them in their remembrance of Rosalie.
 
Instead, as he opened the passenger’s side door for her, she silently nodded,
kissed him dryly on the cheek and moved toward her own front door.
 
Vivienne’s car pulled in behind his, and
she gathered the flowers and other offerings she wanted to place on the altar
before they entered the courtyard together and then went inside.

“Thanks again,
Christophe.
 
You are really the best
drummer in town and things wouldn’t be the same without you there.”
 
He knew his sister was sincere. While he
felt jealous of how she had been given so much, he knew, too, that she’d never
asked for the extra attention. At times like this when it was just the two of
them, he felt close to her. He always felt like she could have done more to
help him, though. Through the sweetness they shared, there was always a stream
of bitterness and resentment.

He smiled in reply and said,
“You know I am happy to be part of your work.”
 

Vivienne cleared the remains
of dried flowers from the year before so she could place fresh flowers and a
small bottle of Rosalie’s favorite perfume on the altar. Christophe offered her
a drink, and they sat in silence for a few moments, riding out the last of the
energy from the ceremony.

He looked at her after he
drained his glass. “You ok if I leave you here?
 
I was thinking about going out.”
Christophe didn’t want to sound to eager, but he was having a hard time
ignoring the call in his head to go to Olivia now.

Vivienne nodded.
 
“I can’t stay long myself, but I have
the key you gave me; I will be sure to lock up once I’m done here.”

He nodded. They hugged
briefly and he left her there, kneeling before the altar where their mother had
done her work--work that connected the women in his family and that shut him
out.

As he drove to the Garden
District, he thought again about his questions about Olivia and the power he’d
felt coming from the other woman at the ceremony.
 
He steeled himself against what he knew
would probably happen--Olivia would put him off of asking questions as she
always did.

He parked the car on Thalia
about a half a block from her house.
 
The house was typical for this part of the Garden District--large,
Victorian, and recently renovated.
 
He knew better than to just attempt to walk in.
 
She kept the door locked and even though
he spent as much time in her bed as he did his own since he had done her the
favor of killing Tim Clark, she still hadn’t given him a key of his own.
 
As he knocked on the door, he felt his
irritation and impatience growing.
 
Perhaps he could really stand up to her and get some information.

She only had to open the
door and smile to shake his resolve.
 
“Christophe,” she purred. “So good of you to stop by after your family
event.”
 
She stepped out of his way
and he entered the house.

He laughed, replying, “It’s
not like I really had a choice in the matter, is it?”

“Don’t be petulant,
Christophe.
 
It should be flattering
that I want you to spend your nights with me when you can.
 
Besides, we are the perfect
representation in the flesh of the crossroads and of the intersection of life
and death, you and I.
 
We have to
stick together.”
 
She wound her arms
around his neck, pulling his head down to her so his lips hovered just above
hers.
 
He could smell the familiar
scent of her breath--Choward’s Violet Mints--and could feel the tickle of her
breath on his lips.
 
He knew that if
he kissed her, he’d not be able to ask anything.
 
He’d fall back into the rabbit-hole,
losing his opportunity for who knows how long.
 
He pushed air out of his lungs and made
himself ask it before it was too late: “Are we the only ones?”

She stopped breathing for a
second, air catching in her throat.
 
That second was enough for Christophe to stand up straight and move his
head so she couldn’t kiss him.
 
He
asked her again, louder, “Are we the only ones, Olivia?”

She was silent for a moment,
reaching out to his mind, trying to see what spurred him to ask.
 
She could see the crowd, and there they
were, two other vampires, dressed in ritual white.
 
She couldn’t see their faces--they were
undoubtedly far better trained than Christophe, who didn’t know how to shield
himself from the probing minds of other vampires.
 
She’d left him open because she loved to
read him and it made controlling him easier.
 
She had hoped that he would not
encounter others without her present.
 
But he had.

She shook her head in
response.
 
“No, we’re not the only
ones.”

“Why didn’t you tell me? Who
are these others?
 
Why can’t I go to
them?
 
Did you make them all?”
Christophe was in a question spiral, spilling all of the questions he’d thought
of as he packed the equipment and drove first to his grandmother’s house and
then to Olivia’s in a steady stream.
 
Once he had them all out, he sat down in one of the club chairs in front
of the fireplace, his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands. He felt
even more the fool to have thought they had something no one else
had—that they could possibly be the only ones.
 

“For all of these
months--you’ve let me believe I was special.”
 
He started crying.
 
It was an odd feeling for him, as he’d
stopped feeling so out of control once Olivia had come into his life.
 
He’d felt as if he had some control over
his emotions and that he could command respect as someone powerful.
 
Knowing she’d lied to him took that
feeling of power away. He felt himself slopping back into the weak errand boy
he was when she’d met him.

She poured them both a
drink.
 
“I never lied to you,
Christophe. I only told you what you needed to know.
 
I thought with your life here and
because you stuck close to family when not with me the chances were you would
never meet anyone else like us unless I orchestrated the meeting.”
 
She handed him a rocks glass with dark
rum in it.
 
She preferred bourbon,
but she knew he favored rum and it was a peace offering, so she went with his
preference.
 

“And how do you know what I
need?” He took a long draw off of the glass of rum.
 
“Why is it all of the women in my life
think they know what is best for me?”
 
He emptied the glass.
 
She
could feel the anger building inside as he shifted from being hurt to being
truly angry.

Olivia smiled. “I’m not just
a woman in your life, Christophe. I’ve given you things no one else in your
life could.
 
Now that you know there
are others, let me help you better understand our kind.
 
You already know how to hunt, and you do
that quite well. Now I have some other things to teach you.”
 
She brought the bottle over and poured
them each another drink.
 
“We’ll
start by you learning how not to alert others of your presence and how to keep
your thoughts to yourself.
 
Once
you’ve learned that, we can move on to more advanced lessons.
 
I suspect once Liz Camp returns I’ll be
looking to you more and more for help with her.
 
It’s a big responsibility, you know,
what you do for me.”
 
She was
sitting on the arm of the chair now, stroking the back of his neck, calming him
with every touch. She could feel his mental resistance melting and his physical
desire escalating. He was so easy to persuade, even when angry.

He nodded, closing his
eyes.
 
He knew she was manipulating
him, but he willingly gave in to her caresses.
 
She claimed the kiss that he’d rebuffed
before, and once their lips met the last of his resistance evaporated.
 
She led him upstairs and when she was
done with him he felt hopeful and once again felt honored that she’d chosen him
as her companion and helper.

Chapter
Fifteen

Afterward, as Christophe
slept, she went out to feed.
 
She,
like her father, had complete control over who entered and who left her
home.
 
When she had first freed
herself of the family home, or rather when Van Helsing had freed her after
killing her beloved Daniela and Sasha, she had promised herself that she
wouldn’t keep anyone captive as her father had.
 
She soon found that was a mistake, as
giving her first few companions complete freedom led to them leaving her and
making their own way out into the world.
 
Over a mere 250 years or so, the few she let loose had spread across the
globe.
 
She had no idea how many her
father had let slip through in his time.
 
What she did know was that the symbiotic network of vampires and willing
donors was far more vast and complex than Christophe could imagine.

She had allowed him to see
only a sliver of reality so far.
 
He
knew that some of her students were willing donors; she’d initially had him
feed from donors before she sent him on his first solo hunt.
 
She’d also let him believe that the
donors were simply powerless to refuse, just as he had been when Olivia seduced
him.
 
She’d let him believe until
now that he was special and that was why she’d chosen him.
 

She hadn’t lied.
 
She’d simply not contradicted his
theory.
 
She’d told him very little
of her long history; she hadn’t needed to.
 
He was so dejected and submissive from years of being ignored and
exploited by his grandmother that he had gleefully just accepted that it was
his turn and that Olivia was his reward.
 
Now that he knew they were not the only ones, some
explanation—even if it were incomplete—would be expected and
necessary.
 

She’d chosen Christophe
because of his family connections.
 
As a descendant of Marie Laveau he didn’t have the knowledge that she
wanted, but he had access to those who did.
 
Her plan had been on course, at least
until Wren lost control and killed Alex.
 
Olivia needed to remember how it always ended badly when she didn’t keep
her lovers close; even those like Christophe and Wren who were at first easily
controlled quickly grew powerful enough to defy her.

While a willing donor would
have been easy for her, she chose to hunt.
 
The level of concentration needed for a successful hunt would distract
her from her concerns about Christophe.
 
He’d still be in her bed when she returned after feeding, and she could
start working with him then.
 
She
wished that Wren had been less of a problem; she’d been fun and a good match
for Olivia.
 
She considered going to
her and allowing her to feed, but it was too soon. She hadn’t decided what to
do with her yet, so keeping her in a state of confusion and hunger was the best
option.
 
Besides, this new
complication meant she needed to focus on Christophe.

She felt the loss of Liz
deeply.
 
She attended the memorial
for Alex and had been overwhelmed by Liz’s grief.
 
She could sense the depth of sorrow from
the other woman, even from the farthest edge of the crowd.
 
Liz wasn’t aware that she’d been turned
yet, and she had no defenses when it came to shutting herself off; Olivia often
functioned this way, as she found it easier to control those she turned if they
had to come to her for help.
 
It
made them obligated to her, but it also led to resentment once they found out
the truth. She worried for Liz in Mississippi, but she knew that instinct would
be enough to keep her safe.

She walked to Lisa’s house,
not too far from her own.
 
It was
here that she’d turned Liz months ago.
 
While Liz worked on the murals in Lisa’s house, Olivia came calling.
 
She knew that Liz had seen her face in
her memory, and that she would let her in.
 
She had no reason to fear Olivia.
 
After all, she was the love of Olivia’s life, even if she didn’t realize
who she truly was. Looking her square in the eye, there was no doubt in
Olivia’s mind that she was her long lost Daniela.
 

She’d spent years looking
for her.
 
In the initial decades
after Van Helsing released Daniela and Sasha, Olivia lived in denial.
 
He’d let her go, so perhaps she hadn’t
truly seen her companions reduced to dust.
 
The book made clear that Van Helsing lied to Stoker about killing them
all (and about plenty of other things). Olivia stayed in Romania for a time,
hoping to find them.
 
And then,
she’d finally accepted they were gone and that her home country had little to
offer her.

She’d developed her own
skills of cloaking early on. She’d had to out of survival, as she feared her
father would find her and kill her.
 
Even now she wasn’t sure if she was just very adept at it or if her
father simply was not looking for her.
 
She chose to believe that she was talented.
 
Perhaps he also realized that it was
only fair she be allowed to make choices for herself.
 
After all, his attempts to keep her safe
and isolated led to their discovery by Van Helsing. First, she’d encountered
Harker, and through the seduction of Harker and her father’s attempts to seduce
Mina, the two women had become linked.

Mina Harker had a strong
psychic bond with Olivia; Van Helsing mistakenly assumed it was with Dracula
that Mina was drawn to and controlled by.
 
Instead of bringing Van Helsing to the castle to kill Dracula, Mina
brought him to Olivia instead--not so he could kill her, but so he could free
her. Mina was too strong-minded to be taken easily; when Dracula attempted to
turn her, she’d fought him and was eventually victorious.
 
She fought because as his blood touched
her lips, she could see Olivia, Daniela, and Sasha’s sad existence and the
sorrow they felt for not choosing their lot.
 
It was then she chose to fight him and
to use her vision to guide Van Helsing to the castle to free Olivia and the
others. She and Olivia hadn’t counted on Sasha and Daniela seeking death,
though, as their method of escape.

The first place Olivia went
when she left Romania was to England to thank Mina.
 
By this time, Mina and Jonathan had
welcomed a child into their lives; it was while Mina sat in the baby’s room,
nursing her son Quincey, that Olivia made her appearance.
 
She stood below the window in the dark,
early hours of the morning and reached out to Mina with her mind, whispering to
Mina to let her in.
 
Mina came to
the window after putting the sleeping Quincey in his crib.
 
She’d lifted the sash and motioned for
Olivia to join her.

She’d felt a kinship for
Mina that was unlike anything else she had known. She was not sexually
attracted to her; it was more sweet and pure than lust.
 
Seeing her as a mother made Olivia
realize she longed for the relationship she’d never had with her own mother;
that desire drew her to Mina.
 
The
child was Harker’s--there was no doubt in her mind about that--but he was also
partially her father’s child, a sort of partial sibling.
 
Mina had been successful in resisting
being fully turned, but Dracula’s blood still tainted her own--as it has circulated
in her body and in Quincey’s it had created a new breed. Mina and Quincey both
benefitted from the added bloodline.
 
Unfortunately for Jonathan Harker, he reaped no benefits; as his wife
and son grew stronger and aged well, Jonathan aged normally and eventually
died.
 
But his death was still years
away the night Olivia came to thank her sort-of-sister for saving her.

Mina wore a chemise, which
allowed Quincey to nurse easily.
 
As
Olivia entered the room through the window, Mina pulled a dressing gown on,
covering the ever-so-white shoulders.
 
Olivia felt ashamed for looking, which
was a new sensation for her.
 
Mina
had incredible mental control and Olivia could feel her brushing Olivia’s
glance off of her.
 
When Olivia was
able to speak, she did so.

“I came to thank you.”
 
She spoke softly, hoping Mina would
assume it was to keep from startling the baby. In truth, Mina’s presence made
Olivia feel small and insignificant.

Mina nodded and simply
responded with, “You are welcome.
 
I
was not a willing victim to your father, and I could see that you were not
willing either.
 
Perhaps had I not
had Quincey to fight for I would have failed in my resolve.
 
Just as your mother shouldn’t have had
to die for you to live, I did not want my child to die for your father’s
selfishness.
 
It’s Quincey you
should thank, as without him to live for, I surely would have succumbed.”
 
Her hand fluttered near her throat as
she thought with a slight shiver of how it felt to have the Count’s mouth on
her, his mind reaching out to hers, trying to will her into complete submission.
 
Olivia saw the break in her
concentration and again blushed.
 
Seeing those private desires of Mina’s was too close, too intimate.
 

“Promise me that you will
leave us be; I have no quarrel with you, nor do my son or husband. My hopes in
saving you were that we could form a type of alliance.
 
Can you promise me that we are safe from
your influence?”
 

Olivia promised.
 

Mina continued.
 
“There are two other requests I have of
you.
 
Let Lucy alone.
 
She is a comfort to me and allows me
sustenance when I need it for my sanity.
 
If my son requires it, which he may, she can help him as well.
 
I can’t bear to think of becoming like
Renfield and scavenging for spiders and flies to keep the hunger at bay when it
strikes.
 
Because I am not fully
turned, my condition is manageable. If I turn mad like Renfield, I will surely
be locked away and kept insane by the lack of feeding.”
 
She stopped for a bit, pausing because
she feared what she was about to ask of Olivia, but she knew that it was for
the best.

“Finally, please go release
Renfield.
 
He is too far gone, I
fear, and I know better than anyone what desperate things we are capable of
when we are half-turned.
 
To keep
him locked up is torture, and I can hear his screams in my head.”

Olivia nodded.
 
Striding over to the bassinet where
Quincey slept, she reached down and caressed his chubby cheek.
 
“Take care of him, Mina.”
 
She turned and took Mina by the
shoulders, and she could feel her tremble slightly, her mind reaching out to
Olivia, wanting to be released herself, but not willing it fully for fear of
what would happen to Quincey.
 
Olivia leaned in and she heard Mina’s breath catch.
 
Instead of providing relief, she sweetly
kissed Mina on both cheeks and then, as she looked into Mina’s eyes, she began
to fade like a photo developing in reverse until only her perfume
remained—the smell of violets lingering in the early morning air as the
sun began to rise.
 

Olivia kept her promises.
She left the Harkers and Lucy alone, and she also let Van Helsing be.
 
She delivered Renfield of his burden
and, in doing so, for the first time she fully realized what a curse her family
legacy was.
 

She’d gone to him
immediately after leaving Mina, just before dawn’s rosy fingers fully chased
night away.
 
As she rolled into his
cell through the barred window as strands of smoke, he became more and more
agitated.
 
She could feel his
excitement that someone had finally come for him, and he started babbling.
 
“My master, my master, he’s finally
here! The reward will be mine.
 
Oh, master,
free me from this place! I remain devoted to you, master.”
 
He hopped from one foot to the other,
impatient with the delay as Olivia fully materialized before him.
 
When he saw her face, he cackled madly
and ran to a corner, shoving his face into it.
 
“No, no!
 
You’re not the one I seek.
 
I cannot be beholden to two of
you!”
 
He sobbed in the corner, his
sobs bordering on howls.

Olivia walked to him,
putting her hand on his shoulder and gently turning him around.
 
He threw his hands up to his face, trying
to cover it and block her out.
 
“Renfield, I come to help you.
 
Mina Harker sent me.”

At the mention of Mina’s
name, Renfield noticeably relaxed, the anxiety lessening.
 
“Mina? The beautiful Mrs. Harker?
 
Did you know she comes to me sometimes
to see how I fare? She’s pleaded with Seward to help me.
 
And he’s tried.
 
How he’s tried.
 
But nothing seems to help.
 
I merely get craftier at my
counting.
 
Bugs and spiders have so
little blood.
 
Rodents are better
quantity wise.
 
Quality all around
leaves something to be desired.”
 
She could feel him spinning off again, and she knew that if he didn’t
focus she’d be trapped forever listening to his listing and classifying.