ISBN: 9781483548968

Find the thing you love

and let that kill you

∼Charles Bukowski

Maspero

Interlude

Beacon Street

∼Adjustments∼

May

June

July

August

September

Raven Winter’s Journal

Montreal

Savannah

Aftermath

Salem

Fleur de Lis

Venice

Paris

London

Highgate

Following Highgate

Debriefing

Minnesota

Nola Redux

Muriel Revelations

∼Return to Abnormal∼

Departure

Telephone Call

Into the Realm

Carrie

Nola Xmas

Chapter 1

Maspero

Blues and zydeco. Chicory coffee and hot, sugary beignets. Bourbon Street and Hurricanes and ghosts and history; beautiful courtyards. Gumbo and jambalaya. What was there not to love about New Orleans?

Daydreaming had been Jason Sterling’s means of getting through the work day ever since impending layoffs had been announced in January. This was his first job since college and he only had two years working at Media dot Com; unless his previous tenure as student intern for one year counted, which it likely would not, he was sure to be one of those to be let go. By the end of March, everyone would know where they stood.

Jason had already started being careful with his money. He had been sharing an apartment and suspected he would have to move back in with his parents until he could find work again. He wasn’t looking forward to that.

But before he plunged into the unemployment pool, he wanted to take a trip somewhere. A final fling. Who knew when he might get the chance to travel again any time soon? The idea of spending money now was risky. But the idea of an adventure helped lift his spirits and lessen his anxiety, helped him to feel optimistic; he rationalized if he could manage to do this then maybe everything would work out okay somehow.

New Orleans was shaping up as his first choice. He wanted to travel to so many places, but he had not seen and done half of what he had wanted to when he had spent two days in New Orleans on a high school trip. Now New Orleans in particular called out to him.

He had first been introduced to New Orleans and its mysterious and unique charm by one of his favorite authors, Anne Rice. Her first vampire book had totally captivated him. There seemed to be so much to recommend the city, and not just the promise of vampires; real or not, she had made them real for him. But there was also history and the many haunted places, the beautiful architecture, great food and an appreciation of the good things in life. Paris, London, Venice, Egypt and Tahiti—all of these would have to wait. It was going to be New Orleans.

He’d almost gotten there a few times since high school. Plans to go to Mardi Gras always fell through. He and his girlfriend had talked about going. Ex-girlfriend, now. They had broken up a few weeks ago after a two-year relationship.

I need this trip. Jason sighed. I need to have something fun and exciting to look forward to. I can take my ghost hunting equipment. Maybe make it a long weekend, if I can afford it.

The plan was to hang onto the job as long as he could. His birthday was in mid-March. Once he knew where things stood, he would plan his trip. If it all played out the way he thought it would, he would be celebrating his twenty-third birthday with a Hurricane in hand at Pat O’Brien’s.

His last day at work was March 15. On the 16th, he left the cold of Minnesota on a flight south. While in the air, literally and figuratively, Jason considered his future. Did he want to stay in the same field? He was a media analyst, making 32K. With more experience and probably more education he could eventually make as much as 60K. He liked the work, but the job market was tight. Should he stay in Minnesota? He liked the idea of living in Boston. He had gotten his BA in Media and Communications at Boston University. But the cost of living there was pretty high.

He missed Carly suddenly. “She should be at my side right now,” he sighed. But he could admit to himself he was glad their relationship was over. I think I just miss the idea of her, of having someone, he thought. He still wasn’t quite sure what had gone wrong between them.

At first they seemed to share so much: similar taste in books, movies, travel plans, even political views. Of course, there were differences. His passion for ghost investigations and going to paranormal-themed conferences was one of them. And then there was his involvement in the goth sub-culture. She had been accepting enough of his passion for the darker aesthetics, of his longish hair, preference for black clothes, his ear piercings…at first.

They had known each other only casually in high school; they had hung out with different crowds. She was the popular kid, while he hung out with the artistic, weird, and unusual types.

He had left Minnesota to go to college and found a goth scene in Boston he could identify with. Those were his happiest years. Club ManRay was like a second home.

An internship in Boston had not led to a full time job as he had hoped so he had returned to Minnesota where the job competition was a little less intense. He took some post-grad courses, then the second internship, which had gotten him his present job.

After returning home, he couldn’t be part of the crowd. A lot of his friends, especially the arty types he had hung out with, had moved away. Those who were still around now had disappointingly settled into a routine which revolved around beer and weekly poker games, sports, worry about bills and mortgages, kids and the next Disney vacation. Jason didn’t fit in and he didn’t want to.

When he ran into Carly one evening at the movies with a group of her friends, they had started talking and she had asked him out to a movie the next week. That was how their relationship began. Then, over time, she had become less and less tolerant of his gothic tendencies, or his punk phase, as she referred to it. As if it were something she needed to wait for him to outgrow. Perhaps as an act of defiance he had added a wide streak of blue to his nearly black hair. She had not been amused. And when he showed up at her house for a date one evening, after he had gotten a fourth ear piercing and his blue black hair was now slightly shorter and definitely spiked in a more punk fashion, she reacted as if he had gotten a tall Mohawk and gone tribal.

She shook her head. “Well, I don’t know, Jason…it is kind of extreme, and well, sort of gay.”

He had laughed a little then, running his hand through the soft but stiff-looking spikes. “It’s just a little different. I really like it. And we both know I’m not gay.”

In time other differences became apparent.

Jason craved a life that would challenge him in positive ways. He had always felt he was not destined for a boring, mundane, normal existence. Though he was close to his family, he always saw himself living somewhere apart. Carly felt just the opposite: “All of my family lives here. I don’t see any reason to move somewhere else. This is where I belong. My life is just the way I want it.” But he was happy and comfortable with his choices too.

When she declined to see the same kinds of movies they had once enjoyed together he knew it was she who had changed. They no longer fit together. And he finally realized if she couldn’t accept him the way he was then what was the point? Sadly, it was just over. No recriminations, just a mutual acceptance of the situation.

Still, the romantic in him clung to the idea of a relationship based on mutual acceptance of each other’s quirks and interests. I just have to find someone who is as weird as I am. Or at least someone who can accept me as I am. Right now he had other concerns. Like how he was going to live and pay the rent. Romance would have to wait, indefinitely.

Before he left on his trip, he updated his resume and sent some out to prospective employers. He hoped to come home to find positive responses. At least that was what he told himself he should expect. He tried to remain hopeful.

At school he would have taken a degree in parapsychology, if one had been offered. But having that degree and being gainfully employed did not always go hand in hand. He had enjoyed his courses in sociology, psych, English lit. and film studies. He had gravitated to a job that seemed to include many of those interests, and now he was unemployed in that field. He felt unsure of his future now.

It was a very pleasant 62 degrees when he arrived in New Orleans, perfect weather for him. His hotel in the French Quarter was a little pricey, but centrally located. As soon as he dropped off his luggage at the room, he headed for the streets to look around.

By the time he had walked to Jackson Square, he had probably taken more than sixty photos of all the things that had caught his eye. For a while, he sat and looked out over Decatur Street and St. Louis Cathedral, watching people and checking out the local artists work hanging up along the Square. He started planning his own adventures as he watched horse-drawn carriages whisk tourists past him. He walked up the steps to look out over the levee at the boat traffic on the Mississippi. His body resonated with the sounds of the loud horn from the steamboat Natchez as it came into port then lingered over his first café au lait and hot beignets, drenched in powdered sugar, at the Café du Monde. He felt more alive in those first hours in New Orleans than he had in a very long time. The city welcomed him as if he had at long last come home.

His joy was momentarily overshadowed as a dark cloud found him and hovered overhead. Looking for a new job—just the thought of that whole process—depressed him. His recent job had been in a rather laid back work environment with not a lot of direct public contact. He had been able to wear some of his gothic accessories; his casually spiked hair was not a problem. Still, he suspected he was on the fringe of acceptability there, and probably well over the line at other businesses. He was going to miss that freedom to be able to express his true self as he ventured out into the unknowns of the workplace again.

Okay; enough of this. He was not going to allow himself to dwell on that. Not right now. Plenty of time for that later. I want to be in the here and now and totally enjoy myself in the moment. He decided he would take one of the walking tours to orient himself to the French Quarter and beyond, and then see where fate would lead him.

Everywhere held sights and sounds to delight him. Various music styles filled the air, as aromas of different cooking smells and unknown spices enticed him. The ambience of the French Quarter lifted his spirits. People seemed genuinely friendly.

He chose a cemetery and garden district tour for late that afternoon, and then signed on for a ghost tour for the evening. He visited the Gallier House and got caught up in thinking about the lives lived there. He walked about as if in a dream, at once real and totally unlike anything he had ever experienced. He paused to peer into lushly exotic courtyards, imagining what it would be like to spend time in such peaceful oasis. He enjoyed a Szaerac and then a View Carre 75, and was starting to feel the effects of the alcohol when he realized he hadn’t eaten yet. He had a fully satisfying meal at Bubba Gump’s, and sampled a drink called Fleur de Lis, charmed by the fun ambience of the movie-related décor, an indulgence of his passion for cinema. He found that evening’s ghost tour to be highly entertaining and informative. At the end of the night he took a different route back to his hotel, just to experience all the craziness Bourbon Street had to offer. He already felt as comfortable as if he had been in town for several days.

I’m not ever leaving here, he thought, getting somewhat teary eyed, even as he laughed at himself for getting so emotional. Life was good. He had made the right choice in coming to New Orleans. This is what a vacation should be.

When he got back to the hotel, he found he needed to crank up the room’s air conditioning, then took a shower, and quickly fell into blissful asleep.

The next morning, March 18th, was his birthday. He intended to make his way to Pat O’Brien’s later to celebrate with a Hurricane. He was sure this was going to be a memorable day and he felt ready for new and different experiences. He didn’t care if what he did was considered typical tourist stuff or not. He wanted to see and do it all.

He got an early start with what turned out to be one of the best breakfasts ever at the Camellia Grill, a small quirky place on Chartres. He wandered into various shops around the Quarter, looking over all of the interestingly weird souvenirs. He remembered to gather some post cards to send to his sister Carrie, and would send some to himself as well, noting the date, what he was doing or planned to do that day. He regarded these as brief journal entries, a memory to enjoy when he returned, feeling only slightly self-conscious about the sentimental side of him he was reluctant to show to others.

His day was filled with pleasant surprises and tasty new food experiences, including his first praline; freshly made and still warm, it almost melted in his mouth. He found the Maspero Café to be a great place for lunch. He ate fresh fruit at the French Market and then bought small silver jewelry items there as well as T-shirts and several elaborate but inexpensive decorative masks. Later he browsed in a voodoo shop then checked out antique shops on Royal Street. He ended up buying a few more silly and scandalous trinkets and souvenirs for himself and family. Finally he was exhausted from all of the walking and decided to go back to his hotel to drop off his purchases and take a nap. Later, feeling refreshed, he headed out for the evening where, in the space of a few hours, he had joined in a Cajun two-step, enjoyed rowdy piano tunes at Pat O’Brien’s after drinking two Hurricanes, watched a street performer walk barefoot on broken glass on Bourbon Street, listened to sad soulful tunes in one bar and then heard some lively Zydeco, which he termed “feel good music” at another bar to round out his night.

He climbed into bed happy and exhausted, thinking how this had been the best birthday of his life. “This couldn’t get any better. I should make it a point to be here every year on my birthday.”

His next morning began at the Camellia Grill again; he loved the atmosphere and camaraderie of the place. Out of all the many good places to eat he already had some favorites. He finished his breakfast and dashed out to catch the Natchez for a paddlewheel boat ride on the Mississippi. As he waited to board, he witnessed a second line parade: people following musicians in a sad, then happy remembrance of someone who had passed. The mournful, slow tribute deeply touched him. Someone’s ashes were being taken to be distributed into the river. People know how to live here, he thought. They know exactly what the most important thing is; and whether it’s a good time or a sad one, they do it right.

Later that afternoon he spent a pleasant hour listening to Yes Ma’am, a street band performing near Royal Street. They became an instant favorite and he bought one of their CD’s. He discovered the meaning of lagniappe and was delighted with the custom of receiving a little something extra with some of his purchases. That evening he splurged on dinner at Arnaud’s and then sampled local cocktail specialties at several bars before taking a Vampire walking tour to finish up the evening. He found the Vampire tour to be rather too theatrical, but some of the stories were intriguing enough to follow up on when he got a chance to do so.

He slept in the next morning, waking up a little late to try to find breakfast close by, and decided he would return to a new favorite, the Maspero Café, for lunch instead, with no definite plans yet for the rest of the day.

It was 11:45 by the time he entered the café, just after they had opened. He expected the lunch crowd would be filling up the place soon.

The first thought he had when he entered was the place was not quite open yet. He saw absolutely no one at first. And then just one person, a man standing at the bar, with his back to the door, caught his eye. Slowly the man turned in Jason’s direction.

Jason stared, wondering if he should say something, or leave, or stand there and wait. The man was tall, thin, dressed in a dark gray business suit, narrow red tie. His neatly groomed, longish dark hair brushed his shoulders. He gazed toward the doorway as if expecting someone. Jason suddenly felt self-conscious about staring and glanced away. Then he blinked several times and looked all around him in amazement: the place was busy and nearly full of customers. In fact there weren’t any open tables. He shook his head, feeling as if he probably wasn’t fully awake yet. The place had seemed quiet and empty a moment ago.

Jason stood and waited. People started coming in and waiting behind him. A young couple got up from their table suddenly and headed for the door, moving quickly past Jason. It appeared they had not even ordered yet; their table was still clean.

Jason caught the eye of one of the servers; she nodded at the empty table and he moved toward it, taking the seat that faced the bar. The server arrived a few minutes later with ice water and a menu.

I’m starved, Jason thought. Hungry enough to eat a whole muffaletta. I’m going to need coffee too, to wake me up. Maybe a glass of wine also. Why not? So what if it’s not quite noon— I’m on vacation.

He took in his surroundings again now as he waited for the server to return. He loved the exposed brick and wood beams; the comfortable informality of the place; the big open windows, perfect for watching the crowds and traffic moving along busy Decatur Street.

He took a look at the menu. The food was good, plentiful and easy on the budget. There were the expected gumbo and seafood dishes; jambalaya and etouffe. But they had burgers, fries and salads as well. He intended to try local specialties everywhere he went.

As he sat and waited to order, he began to feel as if someone was staring at him. He took a casual look around him but no one seemed to be paying him any attention.

He glanced at the people passing by on the street for a while then reached for the glass of water and took a long drink. The server returned and to his surprise he heard himself order the large chef salad instead of the big muffaletta sandwich he had wanted. He paused after he had said it; he could feel his puzzled expression and was suddenly unsure of himself. A moment ago he had been certain of exactly what he wanted. He glanced around the room, distracted again by the feeling someone was watching him. And again, no one seemed to be paying any notice. He wasn’t usually this self-conscious. Instead of correcting the order, he requested coffee and a glass of Pinot Grigio.

He felt a little stunned at what had just happened. I like salad…but it was not even on my mind to order that.

The server brought him the glass of wine. Jason took a sip and used that motion as an excuse to gaze discreetly around the room, still feeling eyes upon him. The only person even facing in his direction now was the guy at the bar. And he didn’t seem to be paying any attention to Jason. “I must really be tired from last night.” He shrugged.

He occupied himself by gazing out the window across the room until the salad arrived, a huge one, with bacon and chicken on top. It really did look good, and he had no real choice now but to eat it. He speared a forkful, and as he brought it to his mouth he felt it acutely: someone was definitely observing him. It almost made him too self-conscious to eat. Jason laid down his forkful of food, and looked toward the bar. Nothing suspicious there. He shrugged it off again with a big sigh.

Jason resumed his meal, absorbed in his own thoughts, absently alternating sips of water and then the wine. He glanced through a tourist brochure he had stuffed into his pocket. He was enjoying the meal, but was still wondering why he wasn’t eating the muffaletta he had wanted originally.

“There.” He felt it again now. Someone was definitely paying close attention to him. Without intending to, he stared at the man who had his back to him now at the bar. He glanced away and took another sip of his wine and a moment later sipped the coffee. When he glanced up again the young guy at the bar was looking, not at him exactly, but in his general direction.

Curious now, Jason took in more details about him. He was good looking; actually quite good looking in that effortless way some people seemed to have. Wearing a suit did not make him appear older—he looked to be in his early twenties, maybe, if not younger. He could be a model or a professional entertainer of some kind. Maybe even someone famous. But he did not look familiar. Jason took another sip of his wine. When he glanced up, he involuntarily looked toward the man at the bar again. He had a gut feeling this was the person who had been staring at him. He took another big forkful of the salad. No way he would be able to finish all of this; it was daunting. So what if I couldn’t finish the whole muffaletta at one sitting either… I’d rather take that back to the hotel to eat later than a salad I could get any—

The guy from the bar appeared beside his table, holding a glass of red wine.

“I have been waiting for someone…” The stranger paused, waiting for Jason to finish a quick sip of his water. “…may I share this table while I wait?”

Jason’s immediate instinct was to say no. Which wasn’t like him at all. He was often accommodating to strangers. But the dining area had no other empty seats then, except one bar stool available, way in the dark corner by the kitchen entrance. The man had been standing at the bar.

Jason couldn’t account for why he felt so uncomfortable.

The stranger’s voice was pleasant, unexpectedly soft, yet able to be heard over the din of the busy dining room. In fact, he had just a slight Southern accent, combined with something else…European maybe? Jason found himself nodding, as if he were remote controlled. Nearly a subconscious gesture.

The stranger pulled the one empty chair away from the table, at least a foot or more away, and then gracefully sat. He seemed to deliberately distance himself from Jason and his gaze went elsewhere. Well, good, Jason thought, maybe he is at least a little uncomfortable too.

Jason glanced up at the stranger as he took another bite of the salad. The man was not looking at him, and yet Jason felt as if he was being studied just the same. And he felt sure of it now: this person had been observing him, no matter where else he had seemed to be looking.

However much his appearance—and it was decidedly gothy today—might draw attention, it was never Jason’s intention to do so. He was out of his comfort zone being the focus of attention in any situation. Now, something cold and clinical about the way he was being observed added to his discomfort. He had never felt so probed, so acutely aware of another person’s attention before. He lost his appetite suddenly. He wanted to down the rest of the wine, get his check and leave. He glanced up, looking for his server.

“What brings you to New Orleans?” the soft voice inquired.

Jason looked up at him in surprise.

The way the stranger had said New Orleans told Jason he was definitely local. Is it so obvious I’m a tourist? Then he remembered the tourist brochure, now sitting in plain sight.

“Vacation.”

“What sort of work do you do?” The soft voice made no attempt to disguise the directness of the question.

“Media analyst,” Jason heard himself reply. Why am I being so honest? I could have told him anything. Actually he was still learning his trade. Not a full-fledged analyst yet. He took a sip of his wine and gazed out the windows at the crowds moving along Decatur Street.

“I cannot place your accent.” Softly spoken; a silken voice.

Jason returned his gaze to the stranger. What is he up to? What does he want, really? That low, soft voice, nearly seductive. It brought to mind an ad campaign, one of many Jason had studied in his school curriculum: “If you want someone’s attention…whisper,” the product had invited. Well, whatever this stranger wanted, Jason was not willing to give it to him.

“Minnesota.” he answered. I don’t have an accent.

“I would have guessed New England, perhaps.”

“I attended Boston University.”

“Did you take a degree there?”

Jason nodded. “Bachelor’s.” He frowned as he glanced at people ambling by on Decatur. Then he took another sip of wine. He was probably making too much of this encounter. People were just very nice here, friendly. He should be used to it now. Everywhere he went, in fact, people always found him approachable. He was always the one people asked directions of, even if other people were close by. He was the one with whom they always wanted to stop and chat. He rarely felt like reciprocating. Suddenly, though, at this moment, he did feel like it.

“And what kind of work do you do?” he asked of the stranger. His tone sounded more direct than it might have been usually. He was suddenly curious.

The stranger’s eyes flickered for a moment. He seemed to be considering his reply.

“Business. Investments. Real estate. Mostly, though, I am at leisure.”

Vague and evasive. Something about his speech and his manner seemed to belie his youthful appearance. “And your home is in New Orleans,” Jason stated. He really did not buy for one second that this guy was a businessman. And he wondered why he thought that.

The stranger stared impassively at him for several moments. Have I managed to disrupt his calm and collected demeanor? Jason glanced around again for the server. Time to go now.

“There is a residence in Boston,” the stranger replied. His direct stare made Jason swallow. The stranger’s eyes kept drawing his attention and now Jason realized why. It wasn’t just the intensity of the gaze: it was the almost unnatural shade of deep violet. Even for someone accustomed to seeing exotic special FX lenses and extreme eye makeup within the goth community, Jason found these eyes rather unusual. No one’s eyes could look like that naturally, he thought. He has to be wearing contacts. But what an unusual color to choose. The man’s dark, nearly black hair and his very pale complexion probably made his eyes, the color at least, more prominent.

“And so what brings you back to New Orleans?” Jason asked him. He really was curious now. The stranger managed to maintain an air of detachment while at the same time seeming very focused on Jason. Jason wondered if this perception was correct; he wanted to ask more questions now.

He caught a hint of amusement around the stranger’s eyes in his otherwise serious expression.

“I am looking to make an investment.”

“In what area?” Though he was somewhat curious, Jason thought it sounded like he was just feigning interest.

“Actually, I am looking for a personal assistant to work for me in Boston.” There was a long pause as they sat looking at each other. “It is difficult to find exactly the right person.”

Hmmm. Jason reflected for a moment. He felt removed from the situation. As objective as someone doing a casual interview on a topic that held only fleeting interest.

“And just who would be the right person?” he asked. And why, he wondered, would an assistant be needed for a twenty-something “businessman,” who is mostly “at leisure”?

The stranger picked up his wine glass and held it to his lips. His downcast, unusual eyes reflected for a moment in the deep red of the wine before he took a sip, then he slowly and deliberately placed the glass back onto the table. He crossed his legs casually as one arm draped languidly off the armrest of the chair, all of this barely taking moments before he answered. “Someone like yourself, perhaps.”

So. There it was. Out in the open. The seductive, low voice. The smoldering gaze, and the personal questions. Or…am I just reading too much into this? For a moment, Jason reflected on his own appearance today: his dark hair had a tousled, just rolled out of bed look—carefully crafted, of course. He was wearing slim black jeans, a form fitting plain black T-shirt. He looked trim and possibly a little taller than his six feet. Black boots; silver and black leather wrist bands, several on one wrist; one small pierced earring: a tiny fleur de lis he had recently bought. He must be giving off at least a somewhat gothy vibe. He probably looked even paler than usual, thanks to the Minnesota winter. If he was sending out goth signals, that was okay; or he could just be attracting general weirdness today.

Jason had taken up his wine glass and sipped it slowly as he reflected on the stranger’s appearance, quickly observing other details now. The stranger wore several different wrist bands, not unlike his own. Braided black leather; a narrow silver cuff; one a smooth black leather with a small fleur de lis set into the band. Jason got a distinctly gothic vibe from this guy. Definitely. Incongruous details for someone who was passing himself off as a businessman, never mind the business suit. Jason didn’t like to judge others so quickly. But the silky sheen of his long hair added to the impression too, falling as it did in full casual waves to his shoulders, more rock musician than not. The personal questions and the attention paid to Jason sent mixed signals. Was he setting off someone’s gaydar? Jason very quickly sized up the stranger again but with a fresh viewpoint. That could be it. Jason had been told he was very good looking, but he had never really flattered himself that it was true. Guys had hit on him before and he had politely told them he wasn’t interested. Just because he was heterosexual did not mean he was homophobic. Sometimes it mystified him he could appeal to both men and women. Jason did not know what to make of this guy. And there was something about the way the stranger moved: a fluid smoothness. One second the wine glass could be poised at the stranger’s lips, or the stem of the glass held by the slender pale fingers at waist height when the glass had been on the table a mere moment ago. Jason’s attention was very focused but he never caught the actual movement. It was a little disorienting. Jason set his own wine glass down with a small, nervous laugh.

“I’m sure I would not be a good assistant for anyone.”

“You are fond of the Boston area, are you not?”

“Well, yes, but…”

“Had you any thoughts of returning there?”

Just the other day, Jason could have said. But he did not. The stranger had an almost quaint turn of phrase. It seemed genuine and not an affectation. And it somehow had the effect of making him seem older.

“I had been considering…relocating…” Jason began, and wondered why he had been honest enough to say so. Because this is just a stranger, whom I will never see again. So it doesn’t matter.

“To Boston,” the stranger stated.

“I’m sure I would not be interested,” Jason replied, shaking his head, “but thanks.”

The stranger regarded him silently for several moments.

Where is that server? Jason glanced around. She was clearing a table across the room with her back to him now. The stranger seemed calm, composed, patient. Jason focused on the server, the other patrons, the people passing by outside, but all the while he had a heightened awareness of the stranger sitting three feet away.

The stranger languidly reached into an inner pocket of his jacket and removed a small silver case covered with elaborately swirled etching. Jason silently admired and coveted it. The stranger snapped it open with one hand and used one finger to slide out an ivory business card with a black border. He replaced the silver case and then removed a shiny black fountain pen from his pocket. Jason had never actually seen anyone use a fountain pen before.

“This is my attorney in New Orleans,” the stranger said as he wrote and then turned the card over and wrote something on the back. “This is my offer.” He leaned toward Jason, slid the card across the table, and quickly withdrew.

Jason had suddenly felt a little light headed when the stranger had moved toward him, and blamed it on the wine he had probably drunk too quickly. Jason picked up the card and read: James Genier, Esquire, Genier & Genier, Attorneys at Law. There was an 800-number, and what appeared to be a local number, and a PO Box. Jason turned the card over and read the flourished but neatly inked: L. Augere and under that a dollar amount. Jason’s eyes widened as he read the figure: it was 28K more than he had been making at his job.

“What would someone have to do for that kind of money?” Jason asked, his eyes still on the card as he suppressed an urge to laugh. “Get rid of the bodies?”

He glanced up briefly and witnessed the stranger looking at him intently. He returned his attention to the business card.

At the verbal response “No” he quickly looked up again; his smile faded slowly as he noted the solemn, humorless expression. Not one for a little levity.

“I just really don’t think I would be interested.”

“I think you will find it is the better of several other offers,” the stranger replied confidently. “You might wish to give it consideration.”

“Actually I just need to—”

“Why?” The stranger’s statement interrupted.

Jason had been about to say “get back to Minnesota.” But he hadn’t really wanted to say that; he really did not want to go back. There wasn’t now, and still might not be any time soon, anything waiting for him there. The stranger’s comment seemed less an arrogant one and more like an acknowledgement of Jason’s anxiety and uncertainty about his future.

In the very next moment the server approached and the stranger was already standing. A $20 bill was lying on the table and Jason hadn’t seen the stranger put it there. When he glanced up at the server a moment later, the stranger was already at the exit. Jason looked to the server with a questioning expression as if for validation she might have witnessed any of what he had, or seemed to have, seen. She gave no sign of having noticed anything unusual. When he glanced toward the door again a moment later the stranger was nowhere to be seen.

The server asked if he needed anything else, and Jason shook his head, and then asked for the check. As she presented it to him, he noticed the glass of red wine, still full, on the table. Jason had seen the man sipping the wine, several times, but the glass looked untouched. Had he ordered another…? Jason shook his head. The server had not been back to the table until just now.

Jason collected the change the server brought him and absently pocketed the business card with it as he stood up to leave the restaurant. I’m really hungry, he thought, missing the irony of leaving the restaurant with half of a large tasty salad left untouched.

****

After he exited the restaurant, Laurent Augere walked several blocks and then placed a call on his cell phone.

“I spoke to him today.”

“That’s good,” James Genier replied. “Does he seem inclined to accept the offer?”

“Not yet.”

“Shall we begin?”

“Yes.”

“Do you have the information for me?”

“Of course.” Augere provided what was needed.

“Very good. I’ll get started with this right now, unless there something you need me to do first?”

“Place a call to the real estate people. I will need to find a residence in Boston. Very soon. Hopefully one needing only minimal renovations.” Augere sighed. “Though I am certain that will be unlikely.”

“I will tell them to make this a priority. They will need to know what kind of timeframe we are looking at. You know it could take a month at least, maybe a lot longer, just to find something.”

“Yes. Understood. Actually, I may have a possible location in mind.”

Genier hesitated for several moments. “Okay….well…we can give you whatever assistance is needed. Will you be staying on here?”

“No. I will need to be available in Boston. I will make the arrangements.”

“I see…I’ll be in touch then, and let you know how things progress on this end.”

****

Jason spent the rest of his morning on a pleasant tour of the Audubon Zoo. Afterward he rode the St. Charles streetcar to the end of the line and back to Canal Street. Then there was jambalaya for an early dinner, followed by his new addiction: beignets and café au lait. By the time he arrived for his vampire walking tour that evening, the encounter with the mysterious stranger was long forgotten. He finished up the night listening to live music in clubs along Frenchman Street, and then took a cab back to his hotel. He had forgotten he meant to stop at an absinthe bar on the way back. He had never had a chance to try it before and he was determined it would happen on this trip. There’s always tomorrow, he thought, as he entered his hotel room and then turned on the TV. A local visitor’s channel he liked displayed views of the city and ideas of things to do. He watched for a while and then climbed into bed after a hot shower. He watched TV for a while longer, taking note of more things to see and do, before finally reaching to turn off the bedside lamp to go to sleep. That was the first time he noticed the red message indicator on the phone was blinking.

He stared at it for several moments. It had to be a mistake. No one even knew he was here, except family, and he doubted they even knew the name of his hotel. He called down to the desk.

“Yes sir. A fax arrived for you this afternoon.”

“A fax?” Jason repeated. “There must be a mistake.”

“It is for Jason Sterling. You are the only person registered with that name.” She paused. “Would you like me to send it up to your room, sir?”

“Yes, okay, sure.” he answered, not feeling at all sure. He was baffled.

Several minutes later he was holding a five-page document from the law firm of Genier & Genier.

The first page outlined the job description, which, though detailed, still managed to appear rather vague. The second page stipulated that all of the stringent criteria must be met, and a detailed list followed, with the advisement this was not a comprehensive list. The third page mentioned the salary and benefits: a retirement plan; housing provided; financial services; life, health, dental and vision insurance was included. Again, this would be contingent upon meeting all of the criteria, submitting to a background check and a physical exam, as well as other testing. There was a substantial confidentiality agreement, which was to be signed and strictly adhered to. The fourth page stipulated further qualifications such as having a driver’s license, have or be able to obtain a passport; having no physical limitations; no dependents. The last page provided contact information for the Genier law firm which was basically the same information on the business card.

He stared at the last page of the document, and then glanced at each of the pages again. Then he froze. A cold chill the length of his body started at the top of his head.

He was absolutely certain he had never told that stranger his name. Nor, he realized now, the chill passing through him again, had he ever mentioned the name of the hotel where he was staying. Jason immediately called down to the front desk. They assured him they did not nor would not give out any information about him or even confirm he was a guest there. It appeared to him, however, it was already too late.

Was this guy stalking me? How long had he been following me? And why me? Jason’s apprehension bordered on fear. He decided he should call the police. He had to report this…but what crime am I going to report exactly? That I received a fax? From an attorney? And that it concerns what appears to be a legitimate job offer?

Okay, so it wasn’t exactly a crime yet. But this was definitely some kind of scam. Jason had seen movies like this…some poor sap lured into some crazy, too good to be true setup, and left to take the fall for some horrible crime. Oh, no, they won’t! Jason dropped the pages into the wastebasket, and made sure his door was double locked before climbing into bed. He got absorbed in an old black and white movie on TV. He was tired but it was still a while before he finally fell asleep, with the TV still on.

The next morning, on his way out the door to get breakfast, he impulsively retrieved the pages from the wastebasket. He felt a little nervous walking around now, and kept looking around to see if he was being followed.

He had walked in the direction of the Ursulines Convent, intrigued about the place and wanting to check it out further in the daytime after learning about it on the previous night’s vampire tour. On the way there he discovered the Croissant D’Or café, where he stopped for breakfast. He started to calm a little by the second cup of coffee. He made a plan to research the names Genier and Augere and then determine what steps to take next. He returned to the hotel, forgetting about the intended convent visit, and made use of the hotel’s business center.

He looked up the names Augere—he couldn’t recall a first name—and Genier on the internet. There was no mention of anyone by the name Augere; nothing in the past century seemed relevant to the person he sought. However, it turned out the Geniers were an old, well-respected family whose professional presence in New Orleans predated the opening of Tulane Law School, as well as the Civil War, as far back as the 1840s at least. Subsequent generations of Geniers had graduated from Tulane Law School as well as other prestigious schools across the country.

There was brief mention, in some very old records, of transactions between a member of the Augere family and those of the Geniers; so it appeared the two families were well acquainted and linked, historically at least, going back a very long time. The Geniers had arrived from Europe by way of Boston. It seemed there had been attorneys in the Genier family for at least 170 years. Jason was impressed. But he remained wary.

Why me? he wondered again. What do I have that they want? If it was all some kind of scam, as he still suspected, they were going to a lot of trouble to appear legitimate. Which suggested to Jason a very complicated scam. He laughed nervously. “Make sure you don’t get drunk and end up losing a kidney,” he told himself.

Jason decided to call the local number. He was not at all interested in the job. Anything that looks too good to be true, always is. But he needed to know how they got his name, and what they were up to.

A young woman answered, asked who was calling and then transferred the call.

“Hello, Mr. Sterling. This is James Genier.” A pleasant sounding voice; slight Southern accent, smoothly enunciated, professional tone. He pronounced his name Zhen-yay. “How may I help you?”

“I want to know how you got my name, and why.” Jason hoped he sounded angry but with a touch of restraint.

There was a brief pause.

“I believe I can answer your questions. Would you prefer to meet in person? Perhaps in the lobby of your hotel? An invitation to a business lunch, if you like.”

I don’t really need to meet these people in person, Jason thought. What would be the point of that? What would he say to them? Then he thought about having to see that stranger again…hmmm. A public place. Well…that seemed harmless enough.

“When?” Jason asked.

“At your convenience.”

“Right now then.” Jason did not want them to have any extra time to try to pull something.

“I believe that will work for me. I can be there within 30 minutes or so.”

“Fine.” Jason answered. He had wasted much of the morning already. He would get lunch—at their expense—and confront both of them. Then he would be free to enjoy the rest of the day. He wanted to put this craziness behind him and continue to savor the rest of his time in New Orleans.

Exactly 30 minutes later, Jason was approached in his hotel lobby by a trim, handsome man of average height, possibly in his forties, dressed in an expensively tailored tan suit with a silky looking white shirt and a dark golden brown tie. His light brown hair , worn fashionably long, came to rest neatly past his collar. He had intense dark blue eyes and a friendly demeanor.

“Hello, Mr. Sterling.” he said, extending his hand in greeting. Everything about him: his appearance, gracious manner and professional attitude—put Jason at ease. Exactly what you would expect from a con man. Jason kept his guard up. He completed a formal handshake but said nothing to the man.

Jason glanced around the lobby. There was no sign of the other stranger.

“Where is he?” Jason asked.

James Genier appeared puzzled for a moment.

“Oh… Mr. Augere?” He pronounced the name oh-zhair. “He left for Boston this morning.”

Jason was surprised at his reaction to hearing that. Against his better judgment, he had wanted to get another look at him. Their meeting had been so brief, and so strange, and he was hoping to get some answers. Suddenly Jason lost what little interest he might have had for this meeting. He wanted to leave now and forget about it. The disappointment he felt surprised him and made him feel uncomfortable. This man in front of him now had some connection to that other. And Jason needed to know more. He couldn’t leave.

“Look, I’m sure I am just wasting your time and mine. I just want to know how you have information about me.”

“I do understand your concern,” Mr. Genier said. “Shall we sit there?” He nodded toward a table in the restaurant a few feet away. “It’s more private.”

Jason hesitated. Maybe this was the only way he was going to get answers. As they entered the restaurant, no less than three people greeted James Genier, either by first or last name, formally or informally; they definitely knew him here.

A waiter approached their table. “Usual seafood bisque and salad today or the shrimp remoulade this time, sir?”

“I have a family thing at Galatoire’s later tonight, so I can’t overdo it…but I will have the shrimp beignet BLT, and you know what I like on the side. Plus a Chardonnay.”

“Very good. And how is your wife? Feeling better I hope.”

“Yes, thanks, Paul. Turned out to be just a sinus thing.”

The waiter nodded.

“And for you, sir?”

“I’ll have exactly the same,” Jason answered him.

“Excellent. I’ll be right back with the wine.”

Doesn’t mean anything, A waiter could be set up to give the illusion of respectability. To put “the mark” at ease. I hope I don’t have to worry about something being slipped into my wine.

“To answer your questions then,” Mr. Genier began. “I should first say Mr. Augere is our client; practically our only client; but he is also our business associate. My brother and I run our firm, along with other members of our family. Mr. Augere does have his own way of doing things sometimes.

“I can assure you the job offer is legitimate, provided the applicant meets all of the extensive criteria. Mr. Augere no doubt neglected to mention that to you. We do handle many of his business concerns, but he does find it useful to retain a personal assistant.

“Mr. Augere described you to me. He mentioned you are from Minnesota and that you might be looking for a job in the Boston area.

“I checked online into the most recent resume postings, intending to work backward from there—and there you were: Jason Sterling, from Minnesota, with a Bachelor of Arts degree from Boston University, posting for a position in the Boston area. With that information, I had only to determine where you were staying. Many tourists who are new to the city choose well known hotels in the French Quarter. I thought I would try several of those first—and found you at the Monteleone. I simply called and stated I had a fax to send you, which suggested to them I already knew you were staying there, and the fact they accepted the fax confirmed to me you were.”

Jason was a little stunned at how easy—and legal—it had all been.

“So—then, he hasn’t been stalking me?”

Genier was surprised. “Mr. Augere? No.”

The wine glasses were set before them. After the wine was poured, Jason took a sip with a thoughtful expression.

“He seems very…” Jason paused, trying to find words that would describe his perception, without sounding rude or unflattering.

“Eccentric?” Genier offered.

“We could start there,” Jason said.

Genier laughed. “He is quite an unusual creature.”

“Who offers a job to someone they have just met and barely spoken to?”

“He is a very perceptive and intuitive person. It is surprising what people reveal about themselves, both verbally and non-verbally, without realizing it. He is able to pick up even subtle things that would amaze you.”

Jason recalled that sense of being studied; that penetrating gaze that had left him feeling transparent; probed and dissected, nakedly vulnerable. The feeling was stronger now, in retrospect, than he had allowed himself to acknowledge at the time. As if he had unwittingly, and uncomfortably, given away personal things about himself to that stranger. He remembered the sense of wanting to get away, of wanting to avoid further scrutiny.

“It was a little creepy,” Jason acknowledged.

Genier nodded. “But evidently he sensed qualities in you that make you suitable as an assistant to him. He is very particular. He knows what he wants.”

“Even though I told him I wasn’t interested,” Jason pointed out.

Genier laughed gently and nodded. “He told me you tend to vacillate and ruminate. You like to look at situations from all angles before making decisions. You are careful, deliberate, thorough. You don’t accept anything at face value. You are always a little mistrustful —of everything. That skepticism and suspicion usually works to protect you. There may be times, however, your desire for something blinds you and you are not as careful as you would be otherwise.” Genier shrugged. “Like most of us, I suppose. It is just something to be aware of. He believes, in the end, you do invariably make the decision that is exactly right for you.”

Jason just stared at him. Who ARE these people?

The food arrived and they ate in silence for several moments. The presentation of the food and the combined tastes and textures felt like a part of the seduction, and Jason was feeling pleasantly lured. Maybe I am just being manipulated. He took a bite of a large shrimp, and savored the crusted beignet that clung to it. It was heavenly. I don’t vacillate…do I? No. I don’t think I do. Maybe…sometimes.

“Is he always so sure of himself?” Jason asked after a sip of wine.

“More sure of others. He already believes you will meet all of the criteria. That’s probably why he didn’t mention it to you.”

“Yes. I glanced at that list.”

“That list is far from complete; it was meant to provide a general overview.”

Jason shrugged. “It hardly matters. Since I’m not really interested.”

“I can tell him we’ve met then. And discussed it. That you gave it some consideration, and you declined. Or perhaps I can tell him you did not meet all of the criteria. And then the matter is settled. We can just enjoy lunch now. No further obligation. Agreed?”

Jason felt like he was being challenged.

He nodded. He trusted his instincts, and right now they were telling him Mr. Genier was decent and sincere—well, for a lawyer, anyway. But he couldn’t consider this crazy offer. Could he?

“I’m sorry you had to come here for nothing. We could have done this over the phone,” Jason said, taking a bite of the remoulade. Oh…I have got to have more of this… Jason enviously eyed the extra remoulade on Genier’s plate.

“No harm. I sometimes stop here for lunch.”

There were a few moments of silence. The food and the wine was so good, neither spoke for a while. I bet this meal cost plenty too, Jason thought.

“What kind of work does he do, exactly? What kind of business—?” He felt he had a right to ask. He assumed their stories would match.

“He owns property; he has numerous investments. Very diversified. He is quite an astute businessman, in some respects…”

“He seems quite young; it is hard to believe…I thought maybe he had inherited money. If he’s wealthy, I mean.”

“Well, he does not have to work, per se. But he never takes things for granted. He believes it is better to continue earning money, just in case.”

“Then, really, if you—and he—can manage all of his business affairs, then why does he even need a personal assistant?”

“What he really seems to need is someone to act as a buffer—between himself and—everything.” Genier noted Jason’s puzzled expression. “There are some things he does not deal with very well. He is something of a technophobe. And he sometimes needs someone to drive him places.”

“He doesn’t drive?”

“He drives.” Genier sighed with a nod. “He has a license. He just doesn’t think speed limits apply to him, and he has a big problem with authority figures. I just prefer that he doesn’t drive.”

Jason smiled. It was sounding less like any kind of scam. Genier seemed genuine, and had been willing to share personal information about Augere. But Jason remained guarded. Still looking for the tiny crack in the too smooth veneer. Still, there might not be any harm in going along for a little while. He could always turn back; he could always say no.

Jason savored a few more bites of the excellent lunch.

“I suppose, as long as it doesn’t obligate me in any way, we could go over some of the criteria. I doubt I will pass all of it anyway.” Jason shrugged.

“You don’t have to do this now—you don’t have to earn your lunch,” Genier assured him.

Jason shrugged again. “I don’t see the harm.”

“You know—I did not bring the full list with me; I did not think we would get to it, frankly. I can call my office and have the pages faxed to me here.”

Jason nodded. Genier placed a phone call.

They were just finishing their leisurely lunch when a hotel employee delivered several pages to their table.

“Thanks, Jerry. How was your vacation?” Genier asked.

“You were right Mr. G; the villas were the way to go. We’re going back again next year.”

Genier smiled at him and Jerry retreated from the room.

“Okay. Well, as to the health screen: there would be a physical exam; blood samples. You would have to have no significant health issues. Nonsmoker. No serious allergies; no seizure, cardiac, or respiratory disorders; non-diabetic, no prosthetics, no handicap. Are we good so far?”

Jason nodded.

“No addictions to any substances, drugs, legal or otherwise; no dependence of any kind. No gambling, porn, video game addiction—”

“Ah. Could you define—addiction there, more, uh specifically?”

“Spending five hours a day or more devoted to any of the above mentioned activities—”

“Okay, I’m good then. Room to spare.”

Genier laughed. “I’ve wondered if we should include internet addiction in general. But then no one would ever meet the criteria.

“No personal nor family history of mental illness; no debilitating phobias…shall I continue?”

“Still good.” Jason nodded.

“Personal life: single, with no dependents. No serious financial concerns. No past or current legal issues. Current driver’s license with clean driving record. Must have or be able to obtain a passport.”

Genier glanced up at him.

Jason nodded. “Still good.” I didn’t realize I was so vanilla, he mused.

“No extreme religious nor political views, especially any that could interfere with the job responsibilities. I realize this is a grey area,” Genier stated, “but it is reviewed on an individual basis. So if there were any concerns, better to be up front about them now, than to face dismissal later.”

Jason nodded. “I don’t have a personal agenda to push on anyone.”

“Shall I continue, then?” Genier asked, and received a nod.

Damn, they are thorough.

“Sexuality is not an issue but we do prefer someone who is at least open minded; and homophobic is not acceptable.”

Jason raised an eyebrow. “Oh…is he…?”

“It’s just that living in the same house with another man, traveling together—some people could feel uncomfortable with that arrangement, or have concerns as to appearances.”

“Oh, I see. Well, I’m not—for what it’s worth. And other people’s orientation—not a problem for me.”

“All right, then.” Genier replied. Jason still wasn’t clear about Augere’s status. Not that it mattered though.

“Preferred candidates would have a university level education; intelligent and articulate; be of good character and possess integrity; honesty and loyalty are important; applicant should be organized, resourceful; a sense of humor is definitely a plus; having varied, well rounded interests—well, I think you get the general idea.”

“Yes.” Jason exhaled.

“Of course, we realize much of this screening is not politically correct, but this isn’t a public sector position we are discussing. This is a position with a private person. We reserve the right to be highly selective. And as you can see, the selection is not as random nor arbitrary as it may have appeared at first.

“Shall I continue?” Genier asked.

“There’s more?” Jason asked with surprise.

Genier nodded. “In addition to the health screen and drug testing, there would be a thorough background check to verify all of the information. There would be a personality profile and additional psychological testing as well. And there is the confidentiality agreement to be signed and strictly adhered to. Employment would be at will; no contract, per se.” Genier glanced up at Jason. “Is this understood?”

Jason nodded.

“Neither yourself, nor any family member can be currently or previously a member of any military, or government position, at any level, nor any member of the medical profession.”

“Uh, oh.”

“Yes?” Genier asked, meeting Jason’s gaze.

“My brother. He works as a psychiatric technician; so technically, he is a member of the medical profession.”

“Yes,” Genier nodded. “That could disqualify you.”

Jason nodded.

“Otherwise, if all else checks out, you do seem to meet the basic criteria, so far.”

“I’m very surprised to say—it seems I do. Not that it matters now. I believe I am already disqualified.”

“Some things are not automatically grounds for disqualification, depending on the situation. I would have to run this by Mr. Augere, regardless. He trusts my judgment and seeks my input but he has final say, no matter what. Even if someone were to pass everything, he could still change his mind and say no. I will tell him about this development and see what he thinks.”

Jason shrugged. Genier placed a phone call.

“Hi. Is everything going okay?…hmmm…yes, well I can’t say I’m surprised at that. Oh…you did. I see. Well…I am with Mr. Sterling at present; a problem has come up. No……no…yes. But he tells me his brother works as a”—he looked to Jason to supply the term again—“a psychiatric technician. In the medical field. Yes…hmmm…yes…I see…I’ll ask him.” He turned his attention to Jason.

Jason felt his pulse quicken but not because of the probable disqualification. That stranger was on the phone, discussing him.

“Do you consider yourself close to your brother? Do you share opinions; ever ask his advice on matters?”

It was a little embarrassing. Jason didn’t really want to admit he wasn’t all that close to his brother. But he felt compelled to tell the truth.

He shook his head. “Truthfully, I don’t think I have ever asked his opinion or advice on anything; I do like him, but we are very different people and we have never really been close.”

Genier relayed the message. “Yes…that is confirmed. I see. Okay. No, I don’t think so. I’ll call you tomorrow then.” He hung up.

“He says because of those circumstances, he would allow it, if you were to accept the position, provided that all of the other criteria are met and no future problems arise from that situation. What are your thoughts?” Genier asked.

Jason shrugged. Genier took a sip of his wine. He waited, patiently.

“I think it’s a lot of money to pay someone just to be an assistant. He must be a monster to work for…sorry—I didn’t mean to be so blunt. It’s just that—I don’t know anything about him. I have no idea what I am getting into.” He paused. “Maybe it would be the worst possible decision.” Jason lowered his gaze as Genier studied him for several moments. Then Genier spoke in a solemn voice:

“I guess it all depends on how you perceive him. He can be difficult and definitely quite a challenge at times. But there are many rewards too…”

Jason was lost in his own thoughts. Genier thought he appeared ambivalent, undecided.

“How long will you be in New Orleans?”

“I’m leaving tomorrow,” Jason answered.

“If you wished to stay a little longer, I might be able to arrange to do the background checks and the psychological testing tomorrow. Possibly the health screen as well, though I’m not sure.”

Jason met his gaze then. Was he really considering taking this position? It was a job; and a very good paying one. Good benefits. It was in Boston, a place he could see himself living. But—living with a total stranger. A disquietingly strange person. Then again, he had always been drawn to the strange and unusual. Something else was very compelling here as well; something that intrigued him and he couldn’t define it. But—no, I can’t do it, he thought. He glanced away and then back at Genier, who was still waiting patiently for his reply. It wasn’t like he was being pressured to do this.

“You don’t have to decide right now, of course,” Genier said, sensing Jason’s continued reluctance. “Take a week, a month even, to think it over if you need to. I would rather that you—that anyone—thought this through very carefully, rather than make a hasty decision—either way. You can always call with any questions or concerns. You have my number.”

Jason nodded. I probably should go back to my room for a while. I could get some vacillating done. He smiled to himself.

“Thank you for lunch. I really did enjoy that.”

“It was a pleasure meeting you, Jason. I wish you well in your endeavors.”

“A pleasure meeting you too, Mr. Genier,” Jason said with sincerity. They parted with a handshake.

Once back in his room, Jason lay on his bed, thinking over the events of the past twenty-four hours.

He really liked Genier. There was a sincere warmth and kindness about him. He felt that man could be trusted. He was still very curious about this Augere. There was something about him he couldn’t quite pin down. If only he could have seen him again. He shook his head. I can’t just go off and share living space and work for someone I know nothing about. It’s crazy. No. I am absolutely not doing this.

He freshened up and then went out to enjoy his last hours in New Orleans, with a plan to round out the evening exploring the weird and raucous nightlife around Bourbon Street again. But first a quick stop at the Casino to throw some of his money away—once the allotted $20 was gone, so was he—and then a walk through the French Market once more, a stop to get a muffaletta from Central Grocery for later and then a quick stop for a drink and a browse of the gift shop at Margaritaville.

The next day was Tuesday and Jason’s original USAirways 1508 flight left New Orleans for Minnesota promptly at 12:15.

At 12:20, Jason was sitting at the Café du Monde finishing an order of café au lait and beignets. He glanced at the watch of a stranger sitting at the next table. Well—my plane has just left, he said to himself. That’s that.

He had returned to his hotel late the night before and called the airlines to change his flight to Tuesday evening. Then early this morning he had called Genier and was able to set up several of the screening procedures. “Well, I’m right here, now,” he told himself. “So why not? Just do it. Just in case. What if there are no decent job offers when you get home. What’s wrong with going along with this, for now? What’s the damage? You can always change your mind.”

He had spent the morning being poked, examined, sampled and analyzed. It was all of the things he hated, all at once, all in one morning. And now that part of it was over.

He was taking a short break, before he went back to his hotel to meet with Matthew Genier, a relative of James, who would be doing the psychological profile and more personality testing. All this, and Jason still had no real intention yet of taking the job. He still thought of himself as just going through the motions. Kind of his backup plan. In case nothing better came along. He was almost, but not completely, trusting of the whole situation, which was why the testing would be done at a conference room at his hotel: a safe, public place. Having impulsively made the decision to do this, he now passively went along, swept up in the process once things had been put into motion.

He had already balked at one thing in the process: he did not want to be fingerprinted. He had nothing to hide; just the idea of being in Big Brother’s system set his teeth on edge.

He had met Matthew Genier, and his son Sean, in the lobby of his hotel. Jason could see the resemblance to each other, and to James. All were classically handsome; father and son were tall; dressed in business attire; had the same professional demeanor. But it was clear to Jason almost immediately that Matthew lacked the grace and warmth he had witnessed in James. There was something—he couldn’t say what—that he did not like about him. Sean came across as an average college student; Jason felt neutral toward him.

Sean was handling the background checks. He had explained to Jason that Mr. Augere had valuables—should anything go missing, the fingerprints could exonerate Jason; he didn’t buy it. He still refused. What if they planted his fingerprints on some murder weapon or stolen goods? Something that could implicate him, months, or even years from now. He wasn’t going to be that trusting.

Matthew explained his profession was psychologist and he would be doing routine psychological testing. Jason was familiar with these tests, similar to those done as part of the curriculum during his college studies.

He performed an IQ test. Matthew informed him he had an above average IQ.

“117.” Jason nodded.

“122, actually,” Matthew told him.

Jason inclined his head slightly. He had picked up an extra five points somehow? For his interview with Matthew, Jason had decided to dress all in black; he wore some of his gothic jewelry and had left on the black nail polish he sometimes wore when he went out to clubs. He had spiked up his hair slightly and added a small streak of purple. He still looked rather toned down as far as his usual goth attire often went, but he was way over the line for a job screening. He would never have gone to a “real” job interview with that appearance. He would have tried to appear as normal as possible. But all of this didn’t seem quite real to him. And he wanted to dress as himself; not to draw attention or to shock, but not to misrepresent himself either. It seemed important just then to be accepted for who he was. But on a deeper level, Jason acknowledged this also reflected his ambivalence about the job. He recognized he might just be sabotaging his chances.

But when he had met the two Geniers in the lobby, neither of them had seemed at all concerned or even surprised at his appearance. Jason was amused he felt almost a little disappointed at that. Sean gathered some information and then left to do the background checks. Matthew began the testing.

After more than three hours of testing, Jason was asked to write approximately a page or so describing himself and his interests. Jason knew this wasn’t just about what he wrote. They would analyze his handwriting as well as the content. He was already starting to feel weary and a little bored with the process. It had been an intensive, busy morning; they had managed to cram nearly two days’ worth of screening into one day. Was this an attempt to determine his endurance and stamina also?

But then, he had volunteered to do it.

He chewed at the end of his pen for a moment and then he began to write.

“I collect spores, molds and fungus. I enjoy origami, especially creating life size whales; I like to participate in the team sport of skipping along the beach. If I could have one wish it would be for Middle Earth peace and for everyone on the planet to drink root beer every day.”

He started laughing to himself and looked up to see Matthew’s grimly serious expression. Much too serious.

“Uhm…can I have another piece of paper? I kind of got off track here.”

“It’s fine. Whatever you’ve written. Don’t be too concerned—spontaneous is best.”

Bullshit. Jason looked around the room. There was more paper but Matthew wasn’t going to give it to him, was he? Matthew continued to watch him with that all too dour expression. Jason guessed him to be in his forties; maybe around the same age as James Genier. He lacked James Genier’s appeal and appeared to be humorless. Jason didn’t trust anyone who had no sense of humor.

Fine. Fine then. So what if I screw this up.

He continued to write, keeping the rest of the content general, paying attention to his handwriting; nothing extreme. He tried to offset his frivolous remarks and make himself appear as ordinary as possible and a little boring. He did actually mention some of his real interests: his love of reading different genres; art; travel; popular culture and media studies; his love of movies; an interest in French language and culture; going to paranormal conferences and participating in ghost investigations. He provided one page only.

Finally, he had been able to take another break and get a drink. Not all of the results would be available for a while, possibly a week or more. Over all Jason felt—he knew—he had done well and believed he had successfully met all of the criteria. Which meant there was only one last hurdle to get over: he didn’t really want to take the job.

He kept going over the reasons in his mind, all the pros and cons. He still could not feel comfortable about the decision. There were just too many unknowns. What would it take for me to seriously want this job…? He reflected on the question.

Months of unemployment and rejections for jobs, for one thing. Reversal of fortune; disaster ahead; the future looking bleak…yeah, there is all that. No. I shouldn’t think that way, he admonished himself. Something good will come along. It has to.

He finished a light snack and returned to join Matthew at the hotel. He had already checked out of his room; his luggage was being held at the desk. The Genier firm had reimbursed him for the plane change fee and any additional expenses. All that remained was to conclude the interview, tie up any loose ends, wrap up any last minute questions or concerns. It shouldn’t take long, Jason thought. I’ll have time for some last minute shopping and have beignets and coffee one last time before I have to leave for the airport.

But Matthew had questions for him. Lots of questions.

When most of the personal data had been collected and some of it scrutinized and analyzed already, one thing and apparently only one thing so far seemed to raise a red flag: his interest in the paranormal.

“Where do you go, and what do you do exactly? What kinds of equipment do you use, and how is it used? Would you be bringing this into the job situation? How often do you do this? What do you do with your findings? How is that information used? With whom do you share that information, and where and how is it shared, exactly?”

Jason answered as patiently as he could. After he thought he had explained it all succinctly, Matthew continued to pursue it.

Jason tried to hide his exasperation. “What is it you want to know?”

“What do you think is ‘out there’? What do you believe exists? What kinds of things have you personally experienced?”

Jason shrugged. “I have experienced many things I cannot explain. I believe there are such things as spirits or ghosts; ectoplasm maybe; shadow figures; I think it is possible for sasquatch to exist. Alien occupants of UFO’s are a likely possibility. The mothman too, maybe.” Does Matthew even know about some of this stuff?

“Anything else?”

“Like what?” Jason wondered. Where was Matthew going with this? Jason almost said: astral projection, ESP, mental telepathy, clairvoyance—I believe in all of it, if there is a steady paycheck in it. But he felt certain the Ghost-Busters reference would be lost on Matthew. And he didn’t really want to convey a flippant attitude, especially since he did take most of those subjects somewhat seriously. He began to wonder if Matthew was so focused on this for his own benefit, or did it still have to do with the screening process?

“What are your personal thoughts and feelings about all of this? What else do you believe exists, specifically? How do you view this field and the people involved in it? What do you really think of the existence of supernatural and paranormal events? What do you personally feel about doing these kinds of investigations? What is it you really hope to find? What kinds of things are you looking for, exactly?” Matthew perseverated. He kept asking the same kinds of questions, in different ways.

Is he looking for inconsistencies? What is this really about? Is he just trying to wear me down? Jason felt badgered about all of it. “I believe there are things in existence we have not uncovered yet and things which we really do not even begin to understand. I believe there are things that are not supposed to exist, but do. I believe someday I may have more proof than I already have about all of these things. I believe as an investigator it is important to keep an open mind and a healthy skepticism. And to keep your research methods above reproach.” Jason gave what he felt was his definitive answer. He was done.

Finally, it seemed, Matthew had gotten the answers he was looking for. Either that, Jason speculated, or he had simply given up.

“We will let you know about the decision,” Matthew said tonelessly. Jason thought he detected a certain coldness in his manner now.

It was already time to go to the airport. No last minute shopping; no time for one last order of beignets. And, probably, no job offer either, Jason sighed. He was weary of all of this now. He did not want to think about it anymore. As reluctant as he was to leave New Orleans, especially since he didn’t feel he had taken proper leave of the city, and might never get back there any time soon, if ever again, it was almost a relief to be on his way to the airport and heading back home.

Chapter 2

Interlude

As soon as he returned to Minnesota, Jason had to apply for unemployment benefits. Several responses to his resume invited him to apply for positions that were not only lower paying, but were not even in his field. He expanded his job search to include all of Minnesota, as well as most of the East Coast as far away as Atlanta.

He was willing to relocate. The decision depended on where the jobs were. He felt he was not in a position now to be too picky.

In the meantime, he excitedly shared his New Orleans experiences with his fifteen-year-old sister, Carrie, leaving out the whole weird stranger part. Their brother, Evan, the middle child of the family, did not share their close bond, nor it seemed did he even begin to understand the allure of the darker aesthetic Jason and Carrie shared. But somehow it was Carrie and Jason who always felt like the black sheep of the family.

Jason had moved back home with his parents. His roommate had moved in with a new girlfriend, so the arrangement had actually worked out for both of them.

Jason dedicated several hours a day to the job search, without much luck. He was beginning to see it could take weeks, if not months, of uncertainty until he could find something. He hated the feeling of being unsettled. Sitting around waiting was not something he was good at; he needed to be actively engaged, always focused, needing some plan in order to keep anxiety in check.

There was no extra money as far as entertainment went. He spent one afternoon going over all of the photos he had taken in New Orleans. He had so many good memories of his time there. He found himself thinking about the stranger—whom he now knew had a name: Augere, and recalled the words he’d said: “I think you will find this the better of several offers.” Yeah, well. He had been home two weeks already and had heard nothing from New Orleans. Not that he expected to. Not that he was really that interested in that job.

Jason responded to two job openings in Boston. He learned one had already been filled; the other, the more promising one, was still available. It paid almost what he’d made at his last job and the benefits were comparable. He did a phone interview and they seemed interested in having him fly there to meet in person.

Jason tried to line up a few other prospects, to make the trip to Boston as worthwhile and productive as possible to increase his chances of success. It took diligence to find a few other possibilities in the Boston area, but he was able to do so. Then it just became a matter of setting up and coordinating the appointments. He would have to be in Boston for several days, with the expense of hotels, meals, etc. as well as the flight.

In the meantime he got a tentative offer from a firm in Minneapolis and inquiries from as far away as Utah and Seattle. None of these really appealed to him; some were not even close to his level of experience, much less his interest, and the pay and benefits were quite a bit less.

Jason did some salary searches for the Boston area. There was some, but not much, room for negotiating upward. When he looked into apartment rentals, utilities, cost of food and public transportation—he would be leaving his car in Minnesota—he would have to be making more than what his current prospects were offering. Two of the jobs he was considering would require a lot of commuting. He would need to have a roommate. When he projected his cost of living expenses against his projected salary, it was kind of bleak. He would be living in Boston, but wouldn’t be able to afford much of the cultural advantages of living there. It would be very difficult to budget for travel and vacations. It would be doable, just, if he landed the higher paying job. Even then he would probably have to live on Ramen for five days a week. And the other two days probably just starve.

He might even have to have two jobs, just for money to have anything extra he wanted or needed. The cold reality of his situation was starting to depress him.

That assistant position was probably already filled. That’s why Mr. Genier hadn’t called him. Maybe his gothic appearance had done him in. Or that whole paranormal thing had just really freaked them out. Or both. Probably Matthew just hadn’t liked him and had deemed him “unsuitable.” Still, he had wanted to be valued for himself as the person he was and to be accepted for his preferred appearance. That had seemed important at the time.

He felt a pang of regret suddenly. As if he had foolishly given away or let go of something he had meant to keep. But then he hadn’t really wanted the job, he reminded himself, and for good reason.

That Augere could be a psychopathic killer. Luring people to a dungeon where their bodies would never be found. Maybe the Geniers were real enough; but who was to say the person he met was a “real Genier” and not just someone who had used that name, posing as such? Jason hadn’t seen any ID. Just because some waiters were willing to play along, didn’t mean everything was as it seemed. Who was to say it wasn’t all staged? Some weird Davids thing; by which Jason meant part of some Cronenberg/Lynch/Mamet bizarre, elaborate setup and manipulation just like in many films he had seen. Okay, maybe he was letting his imagination run wild now: to what end or purpose would all of that be going on and possibly involve him? He couldn’t say.

He thought about calling Mr. Genier. But if he called, didn’t that mean he was interested in the job? Weren’t they supposed to notify him, one way or the other? Shouldn’t he have heard by now? It was going on three weeks already. He was feeling a little annoyed now. Even if he was going to turn them down, he should have at least heard from them by now. He remained ambivalent about calling them first.

Maybe he needed some objectivity. Something to balance his perspective. He decided to bring up the subject to his parents; throw it out there and see what they thought.

“But who is this guy, Jason? You don’t even know him or anything about him. What if he is involved in something illegal? It would be one thing if it was a company you were going to work for, but to go off and live with some guy in Boston…Jason…is there something you need to tell us?”

So not only did their fears echo his own, he now found himself defending a decision he hadn’t even made yet.

“No—there’s nothing I need to tell you, Mom. I mean, there’s nothing to tell. He’s a well-established businessman.” He was careful to avoid telling them Augere was likely even younger than himself. And he made no mention of the fact he could not find out any significant information about the guy anywhere on the internet. But then he was willing to bet lots of wealthy and eccentric people were cagey with personal information. So what did that prove?

As he tried to convince his parents the assistant job was probably a good choice for him, he also began to convince himself of it. If—and now it was really a big if—the job was still available to him, what was the harm in giving it a try? If it didn’t work out, he would at least be in a city he liked, and could find some other employment there. But, again, he just wasn’t sure. Probably a moot point now anyway.

He tried to bring the image of Augere to mind. He was finding it very difficult. He could remember only generalities: what he wore; that he was quite pale; that there was something very disquieting about him. But the exact image of him remained elusive. When he tried to focus his attention, what he was able to recall was merely the presence of him…a presence that produced a compelling and involuntary pulling toward—something… he couldn’t quite define…but something dark. It gave him a chill momentarily. If he dwelled on seeing the image of Augere in his mind, it was as if he had nearly an out-of-body experience, one which caused him to waver and to feel an unsteadiness that unsettled him. To mentally pull back from that was to feel a sense of his own volition returning. And then the memory of that feeling was not so easily banished. The intensity of that brief encounter had made him reluctant to pursue the job in the first place.

But right now, here in the familiar kitchen of his family’s home, those thoughts seemed a little foolish. He could laugh that off and shake his head at his suspicions, his vague uneasiness. He decided tomorrow he would call Mr. Genier.

Before he could do so, the following morning a letter arrived for him from New Orleans. It had gone to his old apartment, then had been returned to sender and re-mailed to his forwarded address at his parent’s home, hence the delay in reaching him.

The letter, on the law firm’s stationery, was brief and all business: he had successfully cleared the screening process. If he was still interested in the position, he was asked to contact James Genier at his convenience.

Now that he had the letter in hand, he began to feel reluctant once again. Could he really do this? Did he really want to?

It’s more money than I have ever made in my life. Maybe I would even have more take home pay, since housing is to be provided…there would still be some cost for that, I would imagine. Still, it is in Boston…. Don’t blow this Jason.

He called Genier that afternoon.

“I’ve had time to think it over, and I accept the position, if it is still available.”

“Mr. Augere will be pleased to hear that. I think I should mention: he was rather angry—now downgraded to just irritable—that we had pushed you through the screening process so quickly. But I told him you had volunteered since you were already in town. He understood.

“I could go over some things with you now, if you want, and if you have any questions, feel free to ask.”

Jason hesitated just a moment, not wanting to appear too eager. “Sure, okay.”

“I will send a confirmation letter out to you today. You will need to sign the confidentiality agreement witnessed in person. We will work that out. I will notify our accounting department to send you the necessary paperwork; you should open a checking account in Boston as soon as possible, to expedite the transfer of funds.

“Please take at least the next five weeks to put your affairs in order. If you need more time than that, it will not be a problem; just let us know.”

“I think that will be sufficient.” I only need a few days…FIVE weeks?

“Mr. Augere will authorize relocation expenses through the accounting department and I will send those funds out to you either today or tomorrow. Do you have any questions?”

“Yes, uhmm… I assume I do pay something for living expenses…is that deducted from my paycheck?”

“That is a good question. Mr. Augere does not like to be in the position of being both employer and landlord, so we have worked out a maintenance fee. This will be $250 per month, until next January, when it will be increased to $300 per month, indefinitely. It is deducted from your check biweekly and deposited into a separate account. The reasoning is that if you use something he does not, and it needs repair or replacement, rather than have him pay for it, that expense would come out of those funds. If you wanted to paint, remodel, partition, or if and when renovations are needed, etc., those funds would be available, and remain so, accruing indefinitely.”

“So—no other rent expense though? What about utilities?”

“So far, you would have no other additional expenses. He would pick up all travel related costs. We provide your health insurance, retirement funds etc. Basically your main expenses would be of a personal nature: food, furnishings, etc.”

It took a few moments for that to sink in.

“If I have left something out, or got something wrong, the accounting department will sort it out. It will all be spelled out in your confirmation letter. Do you have any other questions?”

“I might, but not at the moment.”

“You can call me, if you think of any…wait…it seems there was something else…that I had to tell you…oh, yes, I remember now; he had spoken with me about this. Your personal appearance—”

Oh, okay. Here it comes, Jason thought. Whatever it is I will just have to accept it now. Clean cut; shorter hair; wearing a suit every day; whatever it is I will just have to suck it up.

“We ask that, whenever you travel together, especially if you travel with him for long distances, that you go for a slightly less noticeable look. Mr. Augere does not like to draw attention to himself, particularly while traveling. He often wears a business suit for that reason. The rest of the time, however, your preferred personal appearance is perfectly acceptable. He especially wanted you to know that, and not to be offended at the request.”

Jason was stunned for several moments.

“Seriously? My clothes, my hair—pierced ears—the—the jewelry that I wear—he says that it is all okay?”

“Absolutely not a problem.”

Mr. Genier formally welcomed him into the company then and hoped the next few weeks would not be too hectic for him. He stated again if there were any concerns to please not hesitate to call.

And just like that, smoothly and efficiently, quickly and easily, he had a job. A new beginning.

“Decisions and revisions can be made in a minute, which a minute will reverse. Do I dare ruffle the fabric of the universe?” Jason wondered aloud and then laughed. In the space of a few minutes a person’s life can change: A brief encounter; now a short phone call, and his universe became something completely different.

He suddenly felt as if a huge weight had been lifted off of him. A door had opened and now the future looked bright, exciting and inviting. And then suddenly, a brief cloud of doubt surrounded him. That moment, and any doubts, quickly passed and his feeling of contentment returned.

Chapter 3

Beacon Street

The two story residence on Beacon Street had been purchased at a cost of $3.2 million. Most of the renovations were nearing completion per Augere’s exact specifications, and in record time, at a cost of nearly an additional one and a half million.

Augere had had the crews working double shifts and now he had moved into the house to keep a closer eye on the progress of the work. Everything was coming together exactly as he wanted it, and still there was daily hammering, polishing, painting and moving in of items on a constant basis. He had decided to close off the second floor completely, walling up the main staircase to the ballroom there and placing a locked door where a second stairway entrance had been located. He planned to retain the only knowledge, and the keys, of that other entrance.

The walled up second floor was in need of some cosmetic repairs, but could easily be converted to additional living space, if needed. Which Augere did not anticipate requiring any time soon.

****

In Minnesota, Jason woke up many mornings still gripped by a sense of urgency, an immediate feeling of panic upon awakening: a need to do something, get something done, be somewhere in particular or take some kind of action—and then he would remember: I don’t have to worry. I have a job. Everything is going to be okay.

Actually, it seemed it was going to be more than okay.

He had received a large thick envelope from the Genier law firm containing his employment confirmation letter. Now it began to feel real to him. Included with it was all the necessary paperwork and the details about his benefits; he had filled out what was required and sent the forms back.

And then he had received another envelope whose contents did not quite seem real. It contained a check for $8,000, designated for relocation expenses. Not to be used for airfare, apparently, as that was already covered in a separate voucher.

He called Genier, wondering if there had been a mistake. He didn’t want to keep the money, especially if it was an error. Genier’s gentle laughter reassured him.

“Mr. Augere authorized it. He really has no clear sense of what relocation expenses entail. I’m thinking—you might need to ship some personal stuff; or put things into storage. Accounting has approved the amount. So I would say, use what you need now, and if there is any left, just put it in the bank, or use it to buy things you might need when you are at the residence.”

“Okay. I just wanted to be sure.”

The next four weeks passed too slowly. He was not accustomed to having so much free time on his hands, so little structure. He was still careful with what money he had and still lived as someone who was on the precipice of disaster. Once he was installed in his new job, and he knew what to expect, he would finally be able to relax about finances.

He was leaving his car as promised to his sister Carrie, to use as soon as she got her driving permit. He was taking two suitcases full of clothes, his laptop, some of his books, his paranormal investigation equipment. Not all that much really. Some of his furniture was going into storage. He was heading into the vast unknown as far as he could see. He would know more once he got there and figured things out.

At the end of April the weather in Boston was expected to be mild. As the plane approached Logan airport, Jason began to feel nervous. “It’s just like starting any new job,” he told himself, “you’ll get over it.” He was anxious about the living arrangements. He just wished he knew exactly what to expect. Well, I’ll find out soon enough I guess.

The taxi pulled up to a large two story red and grey brick building on a narrow street in a quiet section of Beacon Hill. The building looked large enough to contain several apartments or condos possibly.

Above a set of shiny double black doors at the front of the building, a gold plaque read: 1626 Beacon Street. This was the right address. But which one was the right door?

Two shiny black doors were at either end of the front of the building, identical to the two front doors at the center. All of the doors had three brick steps leading up to them. There were three mailboxes total, one at each set of doors. It was a little confusing. Which one was the place he was looking for? He decided to ring the doorbell under the gold plaque at the center doors of the building.

He heard a pleasant sounding chime. He waited nervously. He half expected a butler or maid to open the doors, given the size and stateliness of the place. Only in the movies.

Augere answered the door. Jason immediately felt his throat go dry and tighten at seeing him again, and so unexpectedly. For some reason he hadn’t thought he would see him personally. Not like this. The sky was overcast but Augere stepped back slightly as he squinted a little. “Come in.” The tone of voice was even softer than Jason remembered. His eyes were almost shyly downcast and Jason couldn’t see his full expression.

Jason brought in the larger of his suitcases and nodded as he said a quick hello. Then he retrieved his other two bags from the sidewalk and set them down inside the large foyer.

He quickly took in Augere’s casual appearance: black jeans and a dark grey long sleeved pullover shirt. Impossibly he seemed even younger than Jason remembered him. The suit he had worn when last seen had definitely made him seem somewhat older. Augere continued to make no eye contact and offered no assistance with the luggage. For his part, Jason tried not to stare at him, though he was, arguably, one of the more attractive people, male or female, Jason had ever seen. He moved with such a fluid grace. “This way,” he said softly and took off across the foyer.

Jason followed him, trying to take in his immediate surroundings as they walked across a gleaming dark wood floor. An elegant white and black chandelier hung near the entranceway. On either side of the foyer were identical black elaborately carved wooden doors. Augere led him to the one on the far right side of the foyer.

“Your quarters are here,” he announced and then, with barely a pause said, “come this way,” and abruptly took off again.

He led Jason toward a set of dark wooden paneled doors that dominated the end of the foyer, but then he turned to the right instead.

Down a short hallway Augere paused before the entrance to a modern gleaming kitchen that held stainless steel appliances. There were grey marble countertops and white and black cabinets. Otherwise the kitchen was stark and basic. There was not even a table and chairs, though there was room enough for them. Just off of the kitchen, there was a huge walk in pantry, with numerous floor to ceiling shelves—space enough to store nonperishables for a year probably—except all of the shelves were empty.

“You will need to get provisions,” Augere stated simply, still with no eye contact. “I never take any meal here.”

Provisions? Whoever says “provisions?”

“This way,” Augere said, taking off again at a brisk pace as Jason tried to keep up.

He paused outside of the two dark paneled doors at the end of the foyer and as he opened them he stepped aside so Jason could see inside. What met his curious gaze was one of the most beautiful rooms Jason had ever seen. He stared, taking in as many details as he could at once: a huge black desk dominated the middle of the room, sitting on a large round gold, black and white oriental rug placed over a forest green carpet. Rich earth and jewel toned hues were to be found everywhere: in the various plush chairs and several small sofas, the lamps, the drapes, the varied art work that covered the walls.

His eyes rested on a plush deep purple chair, then a rose toned couch with crimson pillows; a small emerald green loveseat sat across from a deep burgundy one. Several built in dark wood bookcases along the room’s perimeter were completely filled with books; there was a modestly large flat screen TV on a dark wood shelf unit, with several DVD’s lying on a nearby dark round end table; a huge mahogany fireplace—and all of it Jason thought, seemed ready for the cover of a glossy home decor magazine. He didn’t get to see the rest, as Augere was once again on the move, telling him, “You may use the contents of the library as you wish.” He led him down a hallway on the opposite side of the foyer. He stopped in front of a door and stood there looking silently at Jason. After a moment, Jason guessed he was expected to take the initiative and he opened the door himself. It was a laundry room, with a gleaming white washer and dryer, complete with a small comfortable sitting area, a place to fold laundry, an ironing board and shelves for supplies; these shelves too were empty, and the entire room had an unused look. Jason nodded, and then closed the door. So far everything seemed to have a new feel or a freshly painted look to it. The house, the furnishings—all of it even seemed to have a “new” smell that was quite pleasing though somewhat unexpected. Almost as if he were viewing a model home, staged but not lived in.

Augere had already moved on, and Jason had to hurry to catch up. Now they were back in the kitchen again and Augere showed him an entrance to the garage through a covered breezeway that also opened onto a portion of an enclosed patio. A set of car keys hung on a hook by the kitchen door.

“You may take the car as you need to, within reason. Always ask me first, and remember to replace the keys.”

Along the brief tour they had passed several other closed doors but none of those areas were shown to Jason. They arrived back in the foyer, stopping at a large black console table along the wall in the foyer, quite near the other dark carved door identical and opposite to the one that led to Jason’s quarters.

Jason stood admiring the beautiful black table, the base of which was comprised of several gothic arches. A huge violet colored vase on the table held a dozen or more roses of various dark hues. Augere retrieved a set of keys from the table and handed these to Jason, nimbly taking several steps back as soon as he released the keys to Jason.

“Do you have any questions?” he asked of Jason.

If he did, he couldn’t form the words to ask them so he only shook his head. He was still trying to process all he’d seen so far on the whirlwind tour, as if it had all needed to be shown to him in a rush.

“I will meet you in the library on Thursday for a formal meeting, and every Thursday thereafter, at 11 a.m., unless I state otherwise. If you have any concerns before then, or even afterward, contact Genier.”

Jason could only mumble “Okay, yes, thank you,” and nodded. Then Augere opened the black door behind him, presumably the door to his own quarters, and disappeared inside, quickly closing the door behind him.

He had been brusquely, but not rudely greeted. Very business-like actually. Which strangely helped put him a little more at ease. “Thursday? But—today is only Monday. What do I do until then?”

Jason gazed around the foyer for a closer look for a few moments, taking it all in more slowly, now that he was alone. He walked to the black door across the foyer. He wondered if it was locked, then looked at the keys in his hand, and decided to try the handle. It opened. He brought each of his bags to this door and then moved them all inside his quarters.

Once inside the door he stood in a hallway that had the same gleaming dark wood as the foyer, a hallway that stretched about twelve feet. A large room lay ahead of him, and to his immediate right two doors opened onto a huge walk in closet with ample shelves.

“Oh, this is good. I have a decent sized closet at least.” He moved further into the room and stood staring in amazement. He hardly knew where to focus his attention first: at the sheer size of the room, at the large fireplace, or the bay window area looking out onto Beacon Street. He walked around enjoying the hollow sound as his footsteps echoed across the dark wooden floor. The sound of plentiful, even cavernous space, filled his ears. And all to himself? Was it possible?

He spotted another doorway to the right of the bay window, which on closer look he was surprised to realize led out to the street. His own private entrance to the house, the door he had seen outside to the far right of the building. He was quite impressed so far. That probably meant the door at the other end of the building would be the private entrance for Augere, with a common main entrance for both at the center of the building. He had seen what must be a common mailbox at that door but now discovered he had his own private one as well.

Mentally, he was already starting to make plans for the sizable room. He could ask to partition a part of this off, and make a decent sized bedroom and then he would still have a good sized living room too. Another long hallway led off the opposite end of the living room. He found several closed doors along that hall. It brought instant anxiety as he wondered if maybe he was meant to share this space with others. But with whom?

He went to investigate, guessing one of the rooms might be a bathroom; he had not seen one yet on the quick tour. It would be luxury not to have to share one, but he dared not hope for that. He opened a door on the left and found to his delight it was in fact a rather large and elegant bathroom. One wall was dominated by a marble stone shower, golden toned with a clear door, a shower which, he realized, laughing, could easily have accommodated several people at once. Shelves were built into the stone wall; gleaming gold towel bars and faucets; lots of counter space and shelving. The room had a distinctly masculine look. It was, to him, a totally luxurious space. He opened a door in the hallway next to the bathroom and found a large linen closet with more shelf space than he could ever anticipate needing. And there were still two more closed doors. He stood for a few moments, puzzled. He opened the door across from the bathroom and found a good sized bedroom with two large windows and a large walk in closet. Upon further investigation he learned the windows looked out onto a narrow private patio.

Jason just stood and stared. This couldn’t be all for him. He had to be sharing this space with someone else. And there was still one last door to check at the end of the hall. He walked to that and paused outside the door. He knocked first before cautiously opening it. Then he stood in the open doorway as he tried to take in the meaning of what he saw.

All of his life he had had to share living space with someone else. He had been squeezed into small spaces, always limited and confined whether with brother, roommate or stranger in tight bedrooms or dorm rooms or tiny cramped apartments. Always.

He stood in what was easily the largest bedroom he had ever seen. A bed stood near the center of the room with a mattress that was still factory wrapped. It turned out to be queen sized, but it had appeared smaller at first, dwarfed by the sheer size of the room. Along one entire wall was a walk in closet. In fact, a ridiculous amount of closet space. He laughed. French doors opened out to a larger area of the same patio he had already seen part of, which turned out to be more of his own private patio, and this was connected by a wooden gate to an even larger common patio at the back of the house. Two big windows on either side of the French doors offering a southern exposure streamed gentle light into the room. Jason sat on the bed, the only place in the apartment to sit down, as he looked all around him. He was totally overwhelmed.

This couldn’t all be for him. He didn’t have to share this space with anyone else? He had never had this much living space all to himself, not ever. He would never have been able to find, much less afford, anything even remotely like this. And except for the lack of his own kitchen, this was just like having his own luxury apartment. He did a mental inventory: two bedrooms, a huge living room. With a fireplace. A private entrance. Private patio. Bay window with street view. Ample closets and storage… He could not get his mind around it.

He walked around the entire apartment again, taking in all of the details once more.

“And to think,” he laughed to himself aloud, “I hesitated.”

For several more minutes he stood in the emptiness and felt small, at a loss what to do next.

Well, at least I have a bed to sleep in—linens! I’ll need those. A chair, a TV, towels… His mind began to race. He looked through his bags for his phone to voice record a list of needed items.. Then he went room to room. Bathroom: everything. Oh, and cleaning supplies, laundry stuff. There didn’t seem to be any. A table lamp; a table to put it on. His mind churned with all he would require. But for now, he thought, just for tonight—what do I need most? That helped him to narrow the list down.

And—provisions. Don’t forget those, he reminded himself. He took his list and went through the kitchen to see what was most needed there. But first he headed out to the garage to see the car he would have access to. This was another most welcome surprise; a vehicle he could use. This would make getting everything he needed a lot easier.

In the garage he admired the sleek black Covington; last year’s model. A roomy four-door sedan with dark grey interior—he had only ever seen pictures of one, and now he was going to have one to drive. How could any of this possibly get better?

Back in the kitchen he opened the refrigerator to see how much space he had available, since he assumed he would be sharing this with Augere.

The refrigerator was starkly empty. Jason searched the clean interior. Nothing. Not so much as a single can of Coke. Not one condiment. Not a remnant of leftovers brought home from a restaurant. Empty and as new looking as if it had been bought and delivered that day. He checked the drawers and cupboards. Not a cup, or a plate; not one utensil, not even a can opener.

Even if you were someone who eats out a lot, or okay, always—who doesn’t have one thing to drink in the fridge? Who doesn’t even have a can opener or a single utensil? A glass or a cup? It was all very strange.

Jason added a few more things to his list: coffee maker, toaster, microwave, utensils, plates, cups, etc. Then he just added the word “everything” under the heading “kitchen.”

He shook his head, feeling puzzled as he headed back out to the garage. Everything in the house didn’t just have a new look or seemingly a new smell to it—the whole place had an unused, unlived in feel to it—everywhere. Except for the cozy and inviting library. He shrugged. All the better. I could definitely be content right there.

Hours later he returned with a load of stuff crammed into the car from his shopping expedition, and dragging it all inside was exhausting. The groceries came in first and got put away. Then the other stuff, which he laid in a pile inside his quarters near the door.

He still didn’t have any pots or pans to cook in. He decided to celebrate being in Boston at his new job and in his new place by going out to eat. His sense of elation called for celebration and he wanted to splurge on a great meal.

He excitedly called his family later that evening to reassure them that, just as he knew it would be, everything was perfect. They were so happy and relieved for him.

He opened up packages of new solid grey, black and deep burgundy linens and made up his new bed; briskly dried off with one of his new thick fluffy aqua towels after a hot shower— and perfect water pressure!—and then sank into several new firmly plush pillows as he settled into bed with a novel, making use of a new lamp he had propped up on his luggage.

You’ve done very well for yourself, Jason, he thought, with a contented sigh. He had grown sleepy after reading a dozen pages of his book. You were absolutely right to do this. He yawned. The bed was heavenly; a soft cloud that carried him quickly off to a sound and peaceful sleep.

ADJUSTMENTS

Chapter 4

May

Except for taking time to explore his new neighborhood, and a quick tour around favorite haunts he recalled around the Boston area, Jason mostly spent the next three days close to his new home.

He had discovered O’Riens Café, just two blocks from the house, which was, despite what the name suggested, a Tuscan themed bistro that served wine, teas and coffees, panini, a dozen different gelato flavors and various kinds of pastries he was sure were not usually found outside of Italy. Across the street from that establishment was an international news shop; a subway stop was close by. Then he found an Au Bon Pain, one of his very favorite places, three blocks from the house. My happiness is complete, Jason thought, and not just because I am in Boston again, with a great job, but because I have all these other things I love so close by as well.

Now he was able to put all his concerns about the shared living arrangements to rest. He had all the privacy he could want.

His first inclination was to fill in every corner of his new place with furniture. But he found he actually enjoyed the echoing empty sound as he walked through his quarters. It represented the luxury of having too much empty space and that was a new and pleasurable experience for him.

He became very selective in the few furniture pieces he chose. He created a small reading area near the fireplace with a red, black and grey oriental rug, a small round black lacquered table, a slender silver lamp with a deep burgundy shade, a tall and narrow black bookcase and a pale grey overstuffed soft fabric chair. The bay window, nearly a semicircle of a room, became a second cozy reading area. He could sit there, facing the street and read by the natural light of day, or draw the black and grey draperies with white sheer curtains closed, turn on a small table lamp on a second round black lacquered table and curl up in his new oversized black microfiber chair where he could read or watch TV as he faced into the main room.

He bought a dark grey couch in a soft fabric, and found red and black plush pillows to go with it. A plain black TV stand with several open and several glassed shelves completed his living room furniture. His new 42-inch TV would be arriving at the end of the week. He began to check out online catalogs, looking for gothic themed items he could buy or where he could at least obtain some ideas for the look he wanted to achieve. Having the freedom to shop like this was another new experience for him but he wanted to be selective.

By Thursday morning he’d been awakened several times, much too early, by sunlight stabbing his eyes: it was definitely time to get curtains for the bedroom. He needed to consult his mom about those; it was a big project with so many windows and not something he was used to having to deal with.

He arrived for his first meeting in the library at ten minutes to 11:00 and found Augere already there, sitting at his desk talking in French on a cell phone. He had a catalog open in front of him. Jason had not seen any sign of him since the day of his arrival.

He hesitantly stood in the doorway, unsure if he should enter. Without eye contact and with a single gesture, Augere motioned for him to come in. Jason sat in a high back plush purple chair, which sat about seven feet from the desk, but was the closest chair in proximity to it.

As Augere continued on the phone, Jason discreetly took the opportunity to take in details about him. This was the first real opportunity to stare at him openly since he had seen him in New Orleans, which, to Jason, didn’t really count. Now he had an even more intense interest.

He had fretted about what to wear on his first day at work. He had decided to go with casual and simple, all black attire with a few simple wrist bands on one wrist. Augere was casually dressed as well, and that put him at ease. Augere leaned lazily back into his chair, the one Jason had already admired and had sat in, late the other night, just to try it out. It was old fashioned in style, with a full, rounded seat, a rounded back and a head rest that extended over the head. The chair appeared antique but was more modernized than it looked in that it swiveled and rolled. It was unusual and unique overall, covered in a black and silver fleur de lis patterned fabric. On the black headrest was a richly hued and detailed tapestry of a pale black-winged angelic figure holding a sword, the tip of which was pointed right at Augere’s head as he sat. The arms and the seat were softly padded and Jason found the oddly configured chair to have been quite comfortable.

He couldn’t help taking in details of Augere’s appearance: everything about him seemed of acute interest now. Black jeans, a long sleeved purple T-shirt of a light fabric, one narrow black and silver cuff and one narrow braided leather band on one wrist. He enjoyed listening to Augere’s perfectly spoken French. Jason had studied French for several years in high school, taking several more courses in college, but he still didn’t speak it as well as he would have liked. He could get a sense now of what was being said: Augere had ordered, or was trying to order, several books and or DVDs, apparently from the catalog he was holding.

Who was this stranger really, who had offered him this opportunity? They were pretty much the same age though he guessed Augere might be even younger. They probably had, or should have, some interests in common. He was quite pale but did not appear to be ill. His arms were thin but clearly had muscular definition. His long dark hair fell thick and full over his cheek as he looked down at the catalog he now held in his lap. Jason had just barely glimpsed the vibrant eyes—which were now looking up at him. Jason quickly glanced away, embarrassed that he had probably been caught staring. As Augere continued his conversation, Jason realized with sudden clarity something that embarrassed him about his decision to take this job.

He could easily tell himself the lure was the money; or the chance to live in Boston again. Or that he had really just needed a job, needed to be settled somewhere. All of that was true of course. But now he knew the truth and it alarmed him: he had simply wanted to get another look at this person who now sat in front of him. He was intrigued by all he did not know about him, and already fascinated at what little he did know. He felt a strong curiosity, nearly a compulsion, to know more about him.

He became self-conscious of the attention he was paying to Augere, whether Augere realized it too or not, and turned his focus to his immediate environment.

In the short time he had been here, the library had become his favorite place in the house. It was a huge room, but had a welcoming warmth and coziness to it. Dominated by the huge black fireplace and Augere’s dark wood desk in the foreground, and by French doors that led to the large enclosed patio beyond, the room was magnificently done. Not that the French doors were always visible. He had had to go up to them and examine what was behind the heavy burgundy draperies to check out the view beyond.

Daylight, much less bright sunlight, was scarcely allowed into this room. The library was the domain of subdued lighting and hushed comfort. From small tables holding elegant lamps, placed strategically around the room, adequate lighting was available for reading, or for browsing nearby bookshelves. With the harsh glare of day all but eliminated, the rich earth tones evident throughout the room were gently illuminated, drawing the eye to them and offering an enjoyment of the color and ambience as if seen under the effect of the soft glow of candlelight. The room had a calming, comforting feel to it that Jason loved.

If the drapes were opened at all, it would be very late in the day, nearly dusk, and then never open at eye level, but always, somehow, only at the lower portion of the doors.

Augere concluded his call and then regarded Jason silently for several moments.

“If that is your preferred chair, bring it closer to the desk. Otherwise select another.”

Jason glanced around him. The forest green one, with a lower back, appealed to him slightly more. He got up and moved it alongside the front of the desk and then sat down.

Augere motioned him a little to the left. Apparently he wanted a clear view out the doors of the library to the foyer beyond. Jason moved his chair about a foot. That seemed satisfactory: Augere nodded. Only three feet of desk space now separated them.

“Are the living quarters acceptable to you?”

Was he being facetious?

“Quite acceptable, yes, thank you. I never did get a chance to thank you properly, in person, I mean, for the job offer. You did say to me it would be the best of several offers. I am glad I did accept.” And just how would he have known that? Jason wondered now.

Augere nodded once, with a solemn expression, an unneeded acknowledgement of an already accepted fact. “I detest using these things,” Augere said with a look of disdain as he slid a new cell phone across the desk to Jason. “Keep it with you always. I may call you for assistance at any time. My number is located in the phone. Do not call me unless it is an emergency. Call Genier first with any concerns. You are to use this phone only to call myself or Genier. Do not put this number into any other device that you may use.”

Jason nodded, his gaze fixed on Augere’s eyes which were a bluish grey just now. Yet another pair of contacts? Or was that his natural color?

He picked up the phone and the charger that was attached to it. It was a decent enough phone, but a basic model; it lacked most of the features he was used to. But then the phone he was being given only had a limited purpose it seemed.

“If there are tasks or instructions for you I will leave that written information on the table in the foyer, in place of a meeting. If I cancel the meeting, I will leave a note there also.”

Jason nodded.

“Do you have any questions?”

“Will there be a list of things you need me to do on a regular basis?” Jason asked.

Augere gave him a blank look. “Only as things come up,” was his vague reply. “We will meet next Thursday at the same time.” He paused then. “You may go.”

That was it? That was the meeting? Jason was slow to respond; he nodded then as he rose slowly and turned to leave. Perhaps I should have come prepared with more questions.

Now he had nothing to do until next week. Unless Mr. Augere called him for something.

That evening he called his mom to get her advice on the curtains. He described how many windows, how big, etc. She advised him to get professionals in to measure and put up the hardware; then he could go out and buy what he liked. It sounded like good advice to him; he wouldn’t have thought of that. But then she had lots of questions and typical Mom concerns: “Are you eating enough? Do you cook for yourself? You never told us much about that guy—do you boys cook and eat together? What is he like, Jason? Is he being nice to you?”

“Mom, he’s not my roommate, he’s my boss. We live in separate areas of a big house. We do share a kitchen, but honestly, I don’t think he has ever even used it. I had to buy a microwave, a toaster, coffee pot. There wasn’t even a spoon or a plate or cup in the house. There is a walk-in pantry—you would love it, Mom—and it was totally empty. There isn’t even so much as a single can of Coke in the fridge though. Very weird.”

“Oh, the poor thing! He probably can’t cook and needs a good home cooked meal. I know you can cook some things, Jason, at least a few basic dishes; you could offer to cook and invite him.”

“Yeah, I suppose I could do that. I don’t want to seem too pushy though. Maybe I will.”

He decided to do laundry after he got off the phone with his Mom. He gathered up his few items and rolled them to the laundry room in his new laundry cart. He watched to make sure he didn’t mark up the floor in the foyer, and the cart, quiet though it was, sounded much too loud to him in the absolute stillness of the house. The quietness of the place was starting to get to him already. He opened the laundry room, and unloaded his laundry supplies. When he opened the washer to dump in a load of clothes and linens he had to stop suddenly: the protective cardboard from the factory was still around the spindle. Jason shrugged and removed it. Okay, so he bought a new washer. I guess it’s okay if I am the first one to use it. He did show me where this room was. He read the directions to get started.

When the new TV arrived the next day, Jason was there waiting. He wanted the TV set up and working before the delivery guys left. The days when you bought a TV and just plugged it in and turned it on were long gone. His parents’ new TV, which they had bought at Christmas, had come with a 155-page instruction manual.

But the guys could find no cable hookup. None. Now that is odd, Jason thought. A young guy like Augere—and no cable TV? This big house, with what appliances were present all looking brand new—but no cable. This wasn’t exactly an emergency reason to call him, but now what? He would have to look into this. The delivery men left.

He left the house and took the car intending to get more groceries; he still needed basic staples, some microwavable stuff and fresh fruits and vegetables. It felt good to buy whatever he wanted or needed and not have to budget one thing over another. He had already received his first paycheck, and he was stunned. Because he was paying so little for living expenses he was actually able to keep much more of what he earned. He put a chunk of it into savings.

He decided to delay the grocery shopping while he went browsing at his favorite book stores. He bought books and DVDs and spent more than he had ever done for such things at one time. He enjoyed a latte and then went shopping for some new clothes. The grocery shopping became delayed even longer as he spent the day lazily browsing in stores and doing as he pleased. This was a freedom he had never been able to really enjoy before; his time was his own to do as he wanted when he wanted. He kept his phone with him in case Augere called.

The next day, he decided to drive out to the shore, to the towns of Gloucester and Rockport. As had become his new habit, he diligently continued to check his phone—no messages. He was already planning to take a full day to spend in Salem sometime soon.

On his way home he had finally stopped for the needed groceries. When he opened the fridge to put away the perishables he stood still and stared for several long moments.

There, on the top shelf, a little off to the left side, all by itself was a single red can of Coke.

He shook his head. He wasn’t sure if he should laugh or be freaked out by it.

After several days of being at leisure, with no set schedule to command him he began to feel weary and anxious. He hadn’t realized how much structure had played a part in his life until it wasn’t there anymore. “Who would ever think too much leisure time would ever become an issue for me?” He shook his head and laughed. This was something new to get used to. Was it Oscar Wilde who had said: “The only thing worse than not getting what you want is getting just what you want.”

He continued to check his phone at intervals. Still no messages and still no sign of Augere. It was as if they were not even in the same house. And maybe he wasn’t. Jason began to wonder. He probably had friends or family he visited; maybe there was business he attended to. Maybe he even went to an office somewhere. Somehow, though, he doubted it.

Sometimes if he was in the kitchen very late, he would hear the car leave or return. Augere never used the kitchen entrance. He had to have his own set of car keys, since he never seemed to drop off any in the kitchen either, yet he had wanted Jason to always replace them in the designated location. He never seemed to be gone very long; an hour or two at the most. He hadn’t yet asked Jason to drive him anywhere. Did he date? Was he bringing girls back to the house? Guys maybe?

By the next Thursday, Jason was really looking forward to the morning meeting. And seeing Augere again. Or seeing anyone for that matter. He arrived promptly at 11:00. Augere was already there. So was a young guy, in a business suit. Jason felt uneasy, suddenly. What was this now?

The young man immediately stood and reached to shake Jason’s hand. “Hello, Jason. I’m Cader Genier. James is my cousin. I have the confidentiality agreement James spoke to you about. I’m here to sign and to witness both of the signatures.”

He handed Jason a single page to read just as Jason was sitting down in his preferred seat.

Jason read the legalese; the document referred to L.L.Augere—what was his first name? Jason wondered, feeling embarrassed he did not know it. The document mentioned any modifications of any kind to this agreement had to be witnessed and signed by all parties. He read: “the Recipient agrees not to disclose any confidential, personal, or otherwise secured information obtained, intentionally or unintentionally, by himself or from any other person or means, including any such received from L.L.Augere, or any person associated with him, to any other person, including, but not limited to family, friends, associates, legal representatives, financial institutions, publishing concerns, clergy, other professionals from any vocations and or any other entity as described in this or in future agreements, for any reason whatsoever, without the express knowledge and written permission of L.L. Augere and or the law firm of Genier & Genier.”

Jason guessed the wording was all probably pretty standard. But, wow, they were being really careful. He couldn’t say anything to anyone about anything. I get it. He read on, basically about his acknowledging such, understanding such, and: “…agrees to uphold the reasonable expectations of privacy of a private citizen, the specifically named L.L.Augere, including protecting his monetary/ proprietary interests and…” Jason read the next line twice: “…Jason Sterling acknowledges that he understands there may be severe consequences and that he is willing to accept such consequences of violating any part or all of this agreement, with the specific consequences being decided at the discretion of L.L. Augere and or the law firm of Genier & Genier.”

Okay. So if I do violate his privacy, I guess they will fire me, at the least. Or from the sound of it, take legal action. It seemed straight forward enough, if a little too much to the point. But he decided he would clarify it.

“So, if I understand correctly, it is grounds for dismissal if I were to fail to uphold the agreement. Is that correct?”

Neither Augere nor Cader Genier made eye contact with him.

“Well, technically, that would be correct,” Cader replied. “We…may…do…we reserve the right…to demand punitive damages, as well.”

“Like…being fined?” Jason asked. Is that what they were getting at?

“It could be much more severe. Depending on the exact circumstances.” Cader continued to avoid eye contact, as did Augere.

Jail? Jason wondered. Damn. Well, they are lawyers. It makes sense they would prosecute. To the fullest extent. They have an obligation to protect their client.

“I do not intend to violate this. So I am okay with it.”

Cader looked him directly in the eyes then.

“You do understand? No one. Not your closest family; not priest; not lover. Not any authority, doctor, lawyer or anyone of that nature outside of this arrangement. Absolutely no one. This matter is of the utmost seriousness. Many people look at this and think ‘this is not a problem. I totally understand.’ But then they don’t. They feel it is okay to share just a little private information. Which means they could end up putting themselves, and the person they told, in great danger. We need that to be very clear.”

Jason looked at both of them. And both were looking at him steadily now with the same impassive expressions.

“I will remain mindful of that. It is not my intention to violate anyone’s privacy.”

A long pause hung in the room. Cader looked at Augere. Augere glanced away with a heavy sigh. Then he nodded once. “All right,” Cader stated. “If you will sign where it is indicated and then date it, we will do the same.”

Jason signed, then Cader, then Augere. The paper was taken up by Cader before Jason could catch Augere’s full name. Well. Jason smiled to himself, nearly laughing. His full name is safe. I still have no idea who I’m really working for. Cader departed. Is he the Boston branch of the family? Jason wondered. Were there others nearby? No one had ever said if there was a Boston office; perhaps there was.

Augere had some errands for him then. He was to get the car’s oil changed. And to pick up some ink for his fountain pens from a shop on Bromfield Street. Those tasks would take maybe two to three hours at most. Jason nodded. Then business was concluded it seemed, probably until next week. Jason sighed heavily as he exited the library. As he made his way to the garage, he suddenly thought, I didn’t ask him about the cable TV. Or if I am supposed to remain close to home, always, in case he calls? I meant to ask him the rules. Damn.

Over the weekend Jason gave some serious thought as to how he should spend all of this free time. He needed to be productive; to be doing something meaningful. The new job meant a lot of freedom, but it seemed to come with its own form of limitations too. He restlessly roamed the large house still getting used to his new environment. He needed to redefine his own needs and priorities but his attention was often diverted by Augere. He witnessed a strange encounter late Sunday evening when entering the library to return a DVD and select another.

He had entered the library not expecting to find Augere present as the room looked dark as he approached. A single candle flickering on Augere’s desk made him pause at the doorway.

Augere sat at the desk with his head in his hands. He did not look up as Jason, suddenly worried, approached him.

“I called out to him,” Jason explained to Genier the following morning when Genier made his routine phone call to see how things were going. “But I guess he didn’t hear me. So I went a little further into the room and I called out his name again and he still didn’t look up. But then he just said ‘Go. Leave me alone.’ Well, I just stood there for a few moments, feeling unsure. I didn’t really want to leave him alone. I thought maybe something terrible had happened, some tragedy and I wanted to be of help to him. I didn’t know what I should do. But then I just left him. I didn’t feel good about doing that. And now I still don’t know if he is really okay…Do you think I should go and check on him now? I’m kind of worried because I haven’t seen him since—”

“This happened… on Sunday?…you said—oh…wait…that was May 23rd. Damn…I cannot believe I forgot.” Genier sighed heavily. “No. Don’t bother him. He will be okay, Jason. I’ll call him as soon as we conclude our call. Thank you for telling me though. How are things going for you, otherwise?”

“Well, okay I guess. I’m a little unsure of what is expected of me though. I rarely see him, and when I do it is so brief. He gave me a phone so he can contact me, but he never does. He sent me on a few errands—do you happen to know—am I expected to stay close to the house at all times? What kind of response time does he expect, if he does call? I’m hesitant to go too far away or for too long. Oh, and the cable—I bought a new TV, but there is no cable connection. None. It just seems really odd. Is there some reason he is against having TV? Or is it just cable?”

“He pretty much hates TV. But I will talk to him about getting cable. He will permit it but you will have to call them to get it set up; and it would have to come out of your personal expenses.”

“Oh, that’s fine. Understood. I will pay for it, or at least until I finally cut the cable cord for good.”

“As for the response time, if you are going to be at some distance away, just let him know that ahead of time. Normally I think five to ten minutes to return the call and thirty minutes is a fair response time to arrive. Are you having any other issues?”

“No, not problems. Except, well, he seems to—well, not avoid me, exactly. I guess I don’t know quite what I expected. It is not like I thought I would be an—a companion—really, but I thought I would see more of him, more regularly. He says very little to me. He is very distant. I was starting to think maybe he was regretting hiring me.”

“He normally displays great economy with words. He doesn’t do well with small talk; it makes him uncomfortable. Don’t be afraid to ask him questions though; he expects it. Or you can always call and ask me; I am often a sort of mediator between him and others. I think he is just giving you some space and time to get adjusted. I realize there is a lot of down time, if you want to call it that. Now you can see why, in the screening process, we were focused on how people spend their leisure time. Boredom can push people to unpleasant extremes sometimes…actually he seems quite pleased with you.”

“He does? He said that?”

“Yes. When I spoke to him last week he said you were quiet and respectful of his home. He said you seem content. And that you are doing well.”

“I am content. I’m glad to hear he thinks I’m doing okay; maybe I just needed that encouragement.”

“Has he you given you any kind of schedule yet?”

“Schedule? No.”

“That’s odd. Because he told me then he was thinking of letting you have two hours off each Sunday, but only to go to church; and it has to be the church closest to home, regardless of the denomination, so you can be right back again.”

“What?…church…?” Jason had no interest in any church.

Genier burst into a friendly laugh.

“Are you saying it was a joke?…So he does have a sense of humor!”

“Oh, yes. A very dry and very wicked one.”

“He seems so serious all the time.”

“The seriousness is when he can be at his funniest. It takes him a while to feel comfortable with others; he is usually awkward with new people. Give it some time and give him some space. He has to adjust also.”

“I will. And thank you Mr. Genier. I really appreciate the comments and you calling me to see how things are going.”

“I will check in with you regularly. I talk to him nearly every day also. Feel free to call me if you need anything or if there are any problems or concerns. Our office is available to you.”

A weight lifted off Jason’s shoulders. His instincts about Genier had been right on. He was glad to have him as a resource. There was something calming and reassuring about him, in both his voice and his manner. Although, occasionally, Jason admitted, he still had some suspicions all was not as it seemed. He still kept expecting that “I knew it!” moment, when the façade would drop and the true situation would be revealed, their clandestine and nefarious plan finally exposed. Then he laughed at himself, at his imagination. He was still bothered by occasional dark thoughts that he tried to banish. It was just his nature to be suspicious at times. In his more paranoid moments, he considered the possibility that maybe the screening criteria had been specifically tailored to him; even the part about his brother’s occupation getting in the way and risking him getting disqualified. It could have been just a clever tactic—to make him think he had nearly missed out. But then, it was all quickly resolved. As if it had been planned that way all along. Wouldn’t he be relieved and grateful then he had somehow managed to get around that? Wouldn’t he then be flattered to be selected? To have somehow met all of those expectations? Wouldn’t he have been more willing then, to accept the position? What were the odds of all of it happening just as it had? Even meeting Augere… But then, he reminded himself, he had not accepted right away. He had resisted, even after getting the good news he had nearly called Genier several times even after he had accepted, to say he’d changed his mind. He really had deliberated a long time; he had definitely vacillated, just like they knew he would. He still felt an occasional chill about the whole thing. An instinctive pulling away from all of it, a vague need for self-preservation. But where had there been harm, really? And so he had decided finally. And it had felt like exactly like the right thing to do then. He was glad he was here now.

Jason shook off the paranoid thoughts. He liked Mr. Genier. And he liked Mr. Augere too. He wanted to get to know Augere even better; he wished for the two of them to feel comfortable with each other. He wanted this arrangement to work out, wanted to have a pleasant working agreement for both of them.

With so much free time on his hands, and little else to distract him, he turned his attention to further speculations about Augere. Damn. He had forgotten to ask Genier what Augere’s full name was. Maybe he could do more research online. “Or, I could just ask him.” He laughed.

There were records of modern day Augers—pronounced oh-zhay. But the spelling and pronunciation of “oh-zhair” with the extra “e” was rather rare, nearly nonexistent… Somehow the descendant, the present day Augere, had connected, or perhaps reconnected, with the Genier family, who had served his ancestors as far back as the 1850s, at least. The lineage couldn’t be traced exactly, not through succeeding Augeres for some reason, but the sense of loyalty still seemed intact: the present day Augere could have sought out the Genier family, and maybe traveled all the way to New Orleans to resume a business tie with them. But then—Augere had a slight southern accent too. So maybe he hadn’t gone that far to seek them after all. He hoped to be able to trace the lineage of the Augere’s as well as he had been able to find details about so many generations of Geniers. He found it interesting the two families had maintained business interests for so many decades; more than a century, actually. It was a rather unique situation.

At times his feelings about his new role changed with his mood. It seemed like he really wasn’t needed here. He made a lot of money for doing nothing. There had to be a catch somewhere. Other days, he laughed at those fears and at his insecurities. Of course this feels weird—you have never had freedom like this before. You’ve only known enslavement of one kind or another. Enjoy what you have in front of you. Don’t question all of it so much.

At the next Thursday morning meeting, Augere brought up the subject stating it was okay “to obtain the services of the cable if you must.”

Jason thanked him. “Do you want the library wired also? Or, I guess I should say, do you mind if I do so?”

Augere seemed ambivalent, but he reluctantly agreed to it.

That was the only business of the day and Jason was dismissed. But he lingered.

“I was wondering, Mr. Augere—about that two hours off on Sundays? I did find an Armenian church in the neighborhood. I won’t be able to understand a thing that is going on; it appears the service is to be fully conducted in Armenian. But I don’t really care so I guess it doesn’t matter. Do you think that would be okay, if I attend? To get those two hours off?”

Augere would not make eye contact, but he appeared to be struggling to suppress a laugh. After a moment he managed to softly utter “Genier” as he shook his head. Then with a serious, newly composed expression he looked up and said quietly, “I need to give this matter some more thought.”

Jason was enjoying this—it was totally worth it—just to see the hint of humor and amusement in the violet blue eyes.

Jason nodded with an expression of exaggerated solemnity and made a small bow, “Very well, sir.” And then he left the library.

Chapter 5

June

Sloth. Jason felt like he was becoming the very definition of the word. He was sleeping and eating too much. He needed focus; activity; he needed a project of some kind.

June, and much warmer weather, finally arrived. After surveying the patio—which Augere called the courtyard—at great length one day, and seeing all of its possibilities, Jason got the okay from Augere to do some landscaping. Actually, that meant he got to pick out some things and have them installed as long as Augere had final approval.

They now had several lounge chairs; a table with an umbrella and several more chairs; a small shed discreetly hidden behind several newly placed ornamental trees; several large container gardens for both flowers and vegetables; a small fountain, which added the soothing sounds of water running over smooth stones to the peaceful oasis, and next to that a small pond, landscaped with lots of greenery, where several fish now took up residence.

And they had a free standing fire pit for cooler evenings. Jason began to spend long afternoons and a few late evenings out there, enjoying a beverage and reading by tiki torches or candlelight. The late summer nights with their delicate soft breezes enticed Jason out more and more frequently, but Augere never joined him, much to Jason’s dismay. Conversation, such as there was, remained brief and infrequent. We will never begin to feel more comfortable in each other’s presence at this rate.

When they did have any contact, Augere seemed careful to keep a physical as well as emotional distance. Jason tried to keep the topics neutral, general; Augere was difficult to draw out. Yes or no questions were to be avoided, unless he wanted yes or no answers. Sometimes Jason’s comments elicited blank looks from Augere, as if he had no idea what Jason was talking about.

When Augere did converse, his speech was often likely to be a mixture of antiquated words and phrases intermingled with modern expressions. The effect was startling and amusing at times, but also quite charming, and Jason instinctively showed no negative reaction. Augere reminded Jason of a foreign exchange student he had befriended at school: a non-native speaker of English who seemed to have learned the language from outdated sources, and who used phrases like “it is high time we went to class, do you not think?” Augere’s English, aside from traces of French pronunciation delivered along with the faint influence of a southern accent, was flawless and eloquent. He was as always quite soft spoken, but he never mumbled; each word was distinctly clear, in a voice that had an unusual quality, one which Jason tried to identify. It was a pleasing tone, but somehow sounding as if produced from some mechanical source, or like the tones from a musical instrument, rather than a human voice.

Outwardly, Jason respected Augere’s need and desire for privacy, and guarded that as well as his own. But he still had a desire to break down the boundaries between them. He wanted more camaraderie; longer, more in depth conversations. He had already begun to resign himself to the possibility this might never happen. That is not why you are here, he often found he had to remind himself.

He admitted he had difficulty accepting how young Augere was. There was a tendency, an unconscious one almost, to be overly familiar, as one might be to a younger sibling or classmate. Since he had not been told how to address him, Jason chose to stick with “Mr. Augere,” which helped to keep his tendency to be overly familiar in check.

Opportunities to study him outright were rare. It was very difficult to catch Augere in an unguarded moment. It was hard to be preemptive in these attempts when Augere had a tendency to look at him first, for long intervals before speaking. And when he did so, Jason found he could not meet that gaze for very long. Especially when Augere’s eyes were a dark somber grey. What is his natural eye color exactly? Jason wondered, noting darker and paler shades of violet, a deep blue, or lighter and darker greys. What was up with all of the special effects lenses all the time? Was it vanity? Or a needed prescription perhaps? At every available opportunity Jason tried to take in as many details about Augere as he could, and mull these over later at his considerable leisure.

Augere sometimes watched movies in the library, where a DVD player was hooked up to the TV. Many of the films were ones Jason himself liked. He thought of inviting himself to watch with him, but always felt that would come across as being too forward. And if that interest was rejected, then the chance to expand it toward other interests could be lost as well. Jason wasn’t ready to take that risk.

What had Genier meant when he had recently said Augere has spent long intervals away from people? What about his family? His friends? Had he led a very sheltered life? Home schooled maybe? Somehow he had not shared a common history with peers? Had he been in some kind of institution? Part of a cult maybe, or some other unusual circumstance? That all seemed unlikely. Jason’s impression of Augere was that he was quite intelligent; well-read and cultured—worldly even. He was well mannered and showed almost a military bearing in the way he stood and presented himself. It appeared he was probably wealthy. He wore clothes well, even when casually attired, and seemed equally at ease in an Armani suit as in a Siouxsie Sioux T-shirt and faded jeans. A maturity about him belied his youth. A sense of sadness, a world weariness even. There had been more than a hint of despair that night Jason had glimpsed him in the library, a depth of emotion and experiences Jason sensed as uncommon in someone so young.

The more Jason observed the more fascinated he became.

There was always the sensuous fluidity in all of his movements. A seamless smoothness of motion, though not often easily seen from moment to moment, but which appeared to be very natural for him. He had a languid composure; almost lazily slow at times: a sense of energy contained, as if he had to slow himself down to be more in step with the world.

His face was too perfect. Not just that his features were so striking; the skin was much too smooth, unnaturally smooth, even for someone so young, with a nearly translucent quality; pale, yet with a radiance, like fine porcelain. His long dark hair, more black than brown, always looked exactly the same: it always fell in soft waves, lush and full, reaching just to his shoulders and framing the almost too delicate features, all of which made him appear even younger.

No one’s hair looks exactly the same all the time. The long dark lashes and pale skin definitely made the intense blue violet of Augere’s eyes seem even more pronounced, and when those eyes were somber grey they appeared even darker still in contrast to his too pale complexion. His overall appearance, even with his muscularly slender build, and his height at just over six feet, suggested to Jason a vaguely androgynous look.

Sometimes, at the Thursday meetings, there was no task and little discussion. Did Augere just need to touch base with him? Jason wondered. Those contacts were especially frustrating when Augere was right there, and yet so unreachable beneath his reserved exterior.

Always the tantalizing hint of similarities dangled between them, of suspected shared interests, and yet Jason felt shut out. There seemed no way to gain access, no way to cross that invisible line. You can be so cryptic Jason thought, discreetly eyeing him with exasperation. I wish I knew what was in your mind, what you were really thinking.

One morning soon after some exasperated ruminating, a strange thing occurred. Augere left detailed instructions for some routine tasks and errands he wanted Jason to do for him. The tasks were written out in Augere’s spiky, elegant hand, which reminded Jason of calligraphy, in blue ink on his personal stationery: ivory parchment that had small red and blue lines running through it—like tiny veins and arteries embedded in pale skin, Jason had thought. But the instructions were spelled out in more detail than necessary. Jason sniffed, more than a little offended.

Does he think I’m not smart enough for this job? Is that why he asks so little of me? I’m a college graduate, with a high IQ!—does he really believe I can barely handle this?

“I received the list of things you had for me to do and they are all completed,” he told Augere the next day. Then Jason laughed a little, hopefully to soften his next comment, “…but really—I felt the instructions were spelled out in far more detail than seemed necessary.”

Without glancing up from the Italian magazine he was reading at his desk, Augere replied: “I can be…too cryptic…at times.”

Jason winced. He couldn’t possibly have known my thoughts. And even if he could read my mind, wasn’t I near Government Center downtown, having coffee, when I even thought of that “cryptic” comment, he falsely remembered. It had to be just a really odd coincidence that Augere had used that same word just now. Then he recalled he might have had had the same thought again, later, when he was sitting across from Augere. That began to creep him out a little.

Jason told himself he didn’t mind any of the tasks he was asked to do. He didn’t consider any of them to be truly demeaning. Hey, if he is willing to pay me that much money to do what I do, who am I to complain, really? It has value to him. I know I have it good here. He didn’t work hard. There was no one on his back all the time. No time clock. No annoying, crazy co-workers. No deadlines, no paperwork. He didn’t have a stupid, overbearing, hateful boss. He shrugged. I can deal with cryptic.

Around the middle of June, Genier called again to check in with him. “How are things going?” he asked.

“Okay. No complaints from me. Does Mr. Augere still say I’m doing okay?”

“I think so, yes.”

“But—you’re not sure.” Genier’s comment lacked the reassurance he needed. Jason hated feeling so insecure.

“He has been kind of irritable and preoccupied lately. Don’t worry; nothing to do with you. It will pass.”

“Is he like that often? Kind of moody?”

“…moody…yes, Difficult, at times.”

“Is it—depression?—sorry, I know, that’s really not any of my business.”

There was a pause. “Does he seem depressed to you?”

“It is kind of hard to say. I don’t see him that much. I wouldn’t describe him as happy though.”

“I think it is fair to say there could be intervals of depression. Usually he pulls himself out of it. My advice is just to be patient. Keep allowing him some space.”

“No problem there. I only see him a few minutes a week. I guess he’s probably busy.”

“…busy…?” There was an awkward pause. Jason filled the silent gap.

“I was wondering—I know I should call you with any concerns, but is there any one I should ever contact, on his behalf, if I needed to? Anyone local I mean. Family perhaps.”

“He has no family.”

“No one in Boston?”

“No one. Anywhere. We are his only contact. You have an afterhours phone number for me; it will go to an answering service, and they will quickly contact me, if there is a need to.”

“Oh. Okay. I see…I know it is none of my business, and I don’t mean to pry, but how is it he has no family?”

“I can understand you being curious. Our firm is the closest to family he has. He has been alone ever since I’ve—that is, since we’ve known him.”

“Oh, okay… Well, is there anything else I should be doing for him?”

“You’re doing fine, Jason. Don’t worry.”

So Jason had something new to wonder about. Had the law firm been appointed as his guardian then? Because of the long standing association with the Genier family? But what had happened to his family? The Augere mystery deepened.

Meanwhile Jason continued to adapt to his new life. He was free to be himself; to dress whatever way he wanted, every day, and to occupy himself with his own pleasures. After only two months he had paid off many of his former debts, and reasoned he could be debt free within the year. He had a real savings account now. Several of them, in fact, just for good measure. Thanks to the Geniers’ advice he was already seeing good returns in the retirement options they had recommended, and the firm advised him on making contributions they would match. He was totally enjoying the perks of his new life. Though he still hadn’t completely been able to give up the frugal ways of his previous existence nor overcome his fear of spending—it still made him a little nauseated if he spent more than $200 at one time—he was beginning to relax a little about his financial future.

Not everything was perfect of course. His sleep cycle was way off. He ate breakfast in the late afternoons, and dinner was sometimes in the middle of the night. He spent hours on the internet, with any porn kept to an absolute minimum, if at all, and soon grew bored with video games. Now that he had so much free time, he found he had less inclination to do some things he used to miss doing. He drifted from one day to the next, without pressure to be anywhere or do anything. Sometimes he saw several movies in one day at different theaters. He felt decadently at leisure. And as always there were never any calls from Augere to respond to.

Sometimes he wondered how he had ever gotten along without all this free time to himself. It seemed almost essential to his sense of wellbeing, satisfying a need to recharge his spirit. At other times he felt he was too self-indulgent. This is all well and good, he thought, but I need to impose some healthy discipline on myself.

He found a gym he liked in the neighborhood. He started making it a point to eat only healthy foods. He gradually began to feel more in touch with himself, in both mind and body. He needed and appreciated having the time for introspection; it helped to restore his energy and his emotional equilibrium.

This was something that was always missing in his life, he thought, and he was just never able to achieve this until now. I was always so caught up in just surviving I didn’t know myself as well as I might have, much less realize what I needed most. I can thank Augere for this.

As much as he still wished to connect with Augere he had enough of his own interests to keep him occupied. He had always been someone who could enjoy his own company.

Still, he had to admit he had a longing for intellectual companionship; for the exchange of ideas; stimulating, humorous, enlightening contact; real conversation—this was now lacking in his life.

He thought of looking up some of his old acquaintances from Boston. But he had so little in common with any of them anymore. Most of the people he had liked had drifted off long ago and he had lost contact with them. He needed to meet new people.

Identifying his needs was not the same as having the motivation to pursue them. He could spend hours away from the house, but soon would become anxious to return. More and more he began to like just spending time at home. All of his comforts, all of what he needed was there.

He had turned the smaller of his bedrooms into a small library for himself. He had a sleeper sofa in there now, for potential guests, as well as a second flat screen TV; newly installed bookshelves kept his books, DVDs, CDs, and games handy.

But that room could never compare with Augere’s library: it was still the most sumptuous and seductive room Jason had ever had access to. Books and movies were like drugs to Jason, and that library held a lot of what he craved. Everything about that room lured him there: the plush carpeting; the jewel and earth toned comforts of the soft textured fabrics everywhere. The prints on the walls delighted him, and Augere changed these at intervals. Currently he loved the two Breitenbachs, the proverb idioms posters; there were some Eschers; a Salvador Dali and two large Waterhouse prints, but always there was some new delight to take in. He had several preferred cozy nooks around the room, which invited reading and lingering. The room could seem bright and airy at times or dark and somber if the heavy curtains were drawn and both of those aspects appealed to him, depending on his own mood. The room promised comfort, pleasure and an ambience he could find nowhere else. But more pulled him there of course: it was the one place where he was most likely to encounter Augere.

Mysterious things happened in that library.

Jason had had to acquire the habit of standing still in the doorway for several minutes or more, letting his gaze travel the room, always several times at least, before he entered.

If he did not immediately see Augere, he would slowly and deliberately scan the room again. A casual glance was never sufficient. For, at first, he had only ever taken cursory glances around and had believed himself to be alone there. Then he would be startled moments later, to find that Augere was there also. And not as if he had just suddenly appeared. He would be right there: beside the fireplace, nestled in one of the cozy chairs, reading. Or settled in one of the corners, at a small writing table, making an entry in a leather journal, with several pens and ink wells in evidence. One moment he was not present, and the very next moment he was. He could not have quietly slipped into the room, not with Jason still standing in the doorway. And Jason would have noticed movement if he had been hiding somewhere in the room. This strange event had already occurred several times, much to Jason’s embarrassment and chagrin. He could not just casually accept it. It was as if Augere could appear so completely still…as if he were not even breathing…as if he could be right there and yet Jason would somehow fail to notice him, even as his eyes would have passed over that same spot just a moment ago. It began to seem to Jason that unless he was intently and purposely focused on seeing Augere, it was truly as if he was not there.

At first it was just unsettling. It gave Augere an otherworldliness; an ethereal, transient quality as if he had no real substance at times; a seemingly solid form, vividly present one moment, but which might shimmer and disappear completely the next. Impossible, of course.

Jason was not quick to suggest something supernatural. But it did unnerve him. With his experiences in the paranormal realm, investigating all manner of unusual phenomena, he had always sought out rational explanations first for things he could not explain. In this situation, he tended to blame his own perceptions.

But he could not explain how he was unable to even sense Augere’s presence. That to him was the mystery.

In college, he had participated in psychology experiments involving sense and perception. He had sat in a room he knew to be empty, and he had then been blindfolded and fitted with ear plugs. He had been able to sense, accurately, when someone had quietly entered and then left a room. He had been able to pinpoint and confirm their approximate location in the room and their proximity to him. Other students had been able to duplicate this feat as well. Merely normal human responses at work.

There had been other experiments—and actual reported experiences of people—who had been sound asleep and had awakened suddenly after somehow sensing the presence of someone else in their room, near their bed—and then had confirmed the actual presence of such, having somehow “perceived it” while still sound asleep.

There had been other experiments too: Jason learned humans have a keen sense of being stared at; the ability to perceive the attention of another person focused on them even from a distance and even though not readily observed. It appeared to be a kind of defense, an ingrained warning of possible danger. He had taken part in these kinds of tests also.

So it disturbed him now that he wasn’t able to detect Augere’s presence with all of his senses engaged, and when he was actively looking for him, when in the past he had been able to sense the presence of others with two of his senses impaired. What was going on?

He began to wonder if maybe he needed a physical exam. He tried to pinpoint when these symptoms had first begun to appear. He could recall what might have been perceptual disturbances since that day at the Maspero when he had first encountered Augere, but he quickly dismissed that.

Now Jason was skeptical. Before seeking medical advice, he decided to contact one of his former professors in the psychology department at Boston University. He asked if there was any chance he could volunteer for any sensory experiments during the current summer school session, to test some theories he was working on. He received the name of a contact who was able to get him access to the kind of thing he was looking for.

The result, after once again participating in similar experiments, was that Jason was convinced—but not relieved—to learn his senses were working as well as ever.

What made it all the more strange was that, on the occasions when Jason did not immediately notice Augere, but then did so after a short while, he caught the faintest hint of a smile from Augere when he was finally observed. Jason had to think this was only his imagination, however. He didn’t believe Augere could have had any awareness of what Jason was, or presently was not, perceiving correctly. And Jason was not about to share with Augere something that was so odd, so puzzling and embarrassing to him.

Being on his old college campus at B.U. again had an energizing effect on Jason. The classroom setting and the experiments had engaged him with others in a good way.

“I really am alone too much,” he realized. ” I’ve become too obsessed with Augere. Still, I would rather have limited but quality contact with him, even sporadically, than daily contact with strangers, who would certainly mean a lot less to me.”

The mystery surrounding Augere was causing Jason to focus even more on him. Every time there was an encounter Jason knew he was staring too intently, that the attention he paid was too direct and purposeful, almost to the point of being rudely so. But he really couldn’t help it. He had become so absorbed that at times he even risked embarrassing himself. He tried to appear casual and to discreetly observe Augere whenever he could but that didn’t always work out well.

Augere wore many different wrist bands, bracelets, and cuffs; many of them were black, silver, or some combination of those. A few had various small dangling adornments, which to Jason looked particularly gothic. He thought he spotted some Celtic symbols; Egyptian ones; some that looked like keys, bats, skulls; maybe a fleur de lis. He wanted to get a closer look at these. He couldn’t just ask; that felt too weird. But he liked the look of these and hoped to be able to find some of them for himself.

One day he had an opportunity to see some of these again and he was staring intently at Augere’s wrists as he sat as his desk reading a French magazine.

When Augere bent to pick up a fountain pen that had rolled to the floor he straightened up and found Jason leaning over the desk trying to get a closer look at his left hand, specifically his wrist, as it rested on the desk.

It was bad enough that Jason was caught mere inches from Augere’s face, but then he had a sudden episode of weakness and dizziness, as if he might pass out. It felt as if all of his energy was suddenly drained out of him and he half lowered himself, half dropped involuntarily back into his chair on the other side of the desk.

He wasn’t looking at Augere now—but he was aware Augere was standing and quietly watching him. He was quite certain of this but he wouldn’t allow himself to meet Augere’s gaze. The dizziness seemed to pass just as quickly as it had come. And then Jason realized that it would have been to his advantage if he had just passed out, because he had no explanation to offer Augere for this bizarre incident. Well, none he could share anyway. He had to excuse himself then and leave the library. Augere made no comment. Jason was glad he had not witnessed Augere’s facial expression.

Once alone in his quarters, Jason perseverated about what had just happened. His obsessive ruminating took over: his own perceptions…the embarrassment of the whole experience…and of course what Augere wore…

“Okay. That’s it,” he told himself. I need other diversions besides him. I cannot be this obsessed and keep focusing on him like this. It is just not healthy and it is going to cause problems. I need to do something about this.

His visit to his old campus again had stirred up possibilities. Why not take some courses? He had always wanted to continue his studies. But he had never been able to find the time or the extra money to do so; if it wasn’t somehow work or career related, he could never justify the expense or take the time for more classes. Now he had both time and money. So why not study whatever he wanted?

The main obstacle was his job. He didn’t feel like he could just ask Augere if he could have off time to take college courses. His first obligation was to his employer. But—if he could find some early morning classes—if he could be back home by 11:00, especially on Thursdays. He could always switch his gym days around; he would have his phone with him at school, and he could leave class if he had to. It was certainly doable. Augere would not even have to know.

His first choice of study would be anything involving parapsychology. He had no luck there upon looking into it. He did find some local paranormal investigating groups, however, and he could probably hook up with one of them, thinking that might be worthwhile.

There was an early morning summer session cinema studies class. He would have to register for it immediately though. It started right after the 4th of July. On impulse he signed up online. And he felt good about it. It seemed to be just what he needed.

The next morning he awoke craving a spinach and cheese croissant. He knew just where to find one in the neighborhood. By the time he had showered and dressed he had made the decision to linger at his favorite patisserie for a while having coffee and juice while he read the morning Globe.

He sat near one of the large windows which overlooked passersby on the street, sipping a second cup of coffee, now sated from the delicious breakfast croissant.

An attractive woman, late forties possibly, looking somewhat high maintenance with her tousled Italian haircut, French manicure, Prada scarf and expensive looking caramel colored leather handbag, Coach maybe, approached his table with a mug of steaming coffee in her hand. Jason glanced up with casual interest. He thought her overall style—the jewelry and the expensive looking fabric of her outfit—suggested a strong European influence.

She was smiling at Jason as if she knew him. He had never seen her before.

“I just love what you guys have done to the place!”

She focused on him as she tossed back an errant reddish gold curl with her free hand. As she took a sip of her coffee Jason noted she was fashionably slim, with a warm smile and azure eyes. She had what Jason called a “cultured Boston accent,” but there was some European accented influence present there also, which didn’t surprise him. Her comment did surprise him, however.

“Pardon?” he asked politely.

“Beacon Street? I’m your neighbor. I live in the high rise condos off to the left side of your building.” She extended her free hand. “I’m Seraphine Westenra.”

Jason shook her hand, still feeling somewhat confused. “I’m Jason.” he said. Then added “Sterling,” a little uncertainly. How is it that she knew him?

“I’m not one to come knocking on your door, but I thought since I recognized you I should come over and say hello. Especially since I can see most of your back patio from our high balcony. So if either of you guys are ever thinking of getting naked out there—you go right ahead.” She laughed.

Jason blushed and took a sip of his coffee. She had a very pleasant laugh. An engaging manner. He wasn’t at all offended at her approach or her comment; just taken off guard a little.

“I was so surprised when I saw the results. It is just beautiful.”

“You mean—the courtyard—patio— the landscaping?” he asked.

“Well, yes, that too. It looks just fabulous. I mean the whole outside though, the new facade of the building. It wasn’t exactly an eyesore before, but now it looks so elegant! I had heard the building had sold quickly; that didn’t surprise me. And then my husband and I left to go to Europe for a few weeks—we’re both artists—and when we left the renovations had just started. And then on the way home I stopped in Canada to visit my sister for a while, so I was gone even longer. And when I got back I didn’t even recognize the place. How long have you two been together, may I ask?”

“Uh…not too long…but—”

“I’ve seen your companion a few times; right when the work started and then of course, more recently. He is just beautiful.” She gave Jason a wink. “And now I see you up close and see just how good looking you are too—you remind me of someone famous, by the way.” She studied him for a moment, and then frowned slightly, failing to make a connection with Jason’s famous double. “Well, anyway—what a gorgeous couple you are!”

“Uh, well—we—”

“I’d love to have you both over for cocktails sometime.” She reached into the leather handbag slung over her shoulder and withdrew a business card. “Here is my info,” she said, handing it to him. “My husband and I are connected to many of the arts and the venues in town. We are always getting free tickets to different things, and we can’t get to use even half of them; we don’t mind sharing the wealth. So call if you ever need anything—and don’t worry—I’m not hinting for an invite—I’m not at all the clingy neighbor type. I just have an appreciation for really good looking guys.” She gave him a charming smile. “A pleasure to finally meet you, Jason.”

“Same here.” He nodded as he put her card into his jeans pocket. “And thank you.”

She seemed nice enough, though he was a little bewildered as to what she was talking about.

She turned to leave the patisserie and fluttered her hand in a little wave to him as she passed by his window outside.

After a few moments, he asked himself, And why do people assume I’m gay?…not that there is anything wrong with that. He laughed out loud as he shook his head and then drank the last of his coffee.

Chapter 6

July

Jason started the Cinema Studies class the second week of July. The class met three days a week, and by the end of the first week it had already delightfully exceeded his expectations. He was learning something new in each class and connecting with others who shared his passion for movies. The conversations and discussions were lively and always insightful. It may not have been the one interaction he wanted most, but it satisfied some of his interests.

As often as several times a day, he continued to check the library—quite thoroughly—but now, more likely than not, he would be disappointed. Augere was not to be found. So the cinema studies remained a distraction Jason was grateful to have.

He returned home from class one day and paused in the foyer on his way to the kitchen, having heard a loud noise coming from that direction. Could it possibly be Augere, in the kitchen? He doubted it.

It wasn’t him. A man in a grey uniform, wearing a name tag, was removing the ice maker from the refrigerator. The ice machine was not broken.

“Uhm…why are you doing that?”

“Are you the owner of the fridge?” The man asked without looking at him or pausing at his task.

“No.”

“Well, if you were the owner, you’d know why.”

The salty Boston attitude was alive and well and present in the kitchen.

“Well, I live here. I do use the ice machine. And I do know that there is nothing wrong with it.”

“Nope. But you’re still getting a new one.”

“Why?”

“I’m guessing because it is still under warranty and this new one makes small ice cubes and crushed ice, and the original one does not.” His expression said Jason was an annoying child asking stupid questions.

“Oh.” It was the only reply he could make. He hung around until the job was completed and the man had left.

As Augere’s assistant, shouldn’t I have been taking care of this? Is the ice for his benefit or mine? And—more importantly—what does this imply? That even this trivial kind of thing could not be handled by me? that from now on there will be even less for me to do? Was Augere planning to phase him out altogether? Damn, he hated this insecurity. Instantly he began to feel anxious and depressed. Hadn’t Mr. Genier said Mr. Augere seemed pleased with him? He had to remind himself of that. Had something changed then?

The next day Jason returned home from the gym a little later than usual. He had stopped to load up on junk—er, comfort food, he reminded himself, instead of the healthier stuff he had been focused on of late. The junk binge was his occasional panacea for nothing-is-going-right occasions. Or sometimes, he admitted, for everything is going right celebrations. Which this clearly was not.

He usually indulged for several days until he could not even stand to look at, much less eat, any of the junk anymore, and then he wouldn’t want any for a long time. It usually worked. He had entered the house from the garage through the kitchen and had put all of the stuff away, except one wine cooler. He checked his phone for the fifth time that morning and sighed heavily. Then he headed to his room.

As he crossed the foyer toward his quarters, he noticed the library doors were open. More out of habit than anything else, he paused to look in. Augere sat at his desk, slouched in negligent good manners, watching a DVD. He recognized the opening credits; the film was a favorite of his. Augere turned his head slightly as if in casual acknowledgment of Jason.

“Sorry. Didn’t mean to disturb you,” Jason said with a quick wave. “That’s a really good film,” he added, nodding toward the TV. He turned to leave.

“Is it worth a second view?” Augere sat upright.

Jason paused. It took him several moments to put together he was being invited to watch the DVD also. Maybe.

“Yes, it’s definitely worth seeing again,” he stated hesitantly.

“You will stay,” Augere intoned. His questions often lacked inflection at the end and sometimes it was hard for Jason to know what was intended.

“Yes…sure.” Jason decided to take the chance it was an invite. He was tired, a little cranky; thirsty, and maybe hungry right now, he wasn’t even sure. He had been looking forward to throwing himself onto his bed in his darkened room, and just zoning out in a cool, inviting respite from the already too hot day.

But Augere’s library felt pleasantly cool; the heavy dark draperies were drawn closed. He really did like this movie. And Augere had actually invited him. There was no question but that he would stay. “Before it starts, do you mind if I just go and grab a few things?” Anxiety spurred fresh interest in the food binge.

Augere pressed the pause button on the remote.

“I’ll be right back. Can I bring you anything?”

“No.”

Jason returned in as few minutes as possible. He had loaded up a tray from the kitchen with a root beer; two Snickers bars; leftover cheesecake; cashews; half of an assorted sub; a small bag of cheese curls and a second wine cooler. He set the tray on the desk between the two of them, and then offered a wine cooler to Augere.

“What?” Jason asked, looking down at the tray when he saw Augere’s bemused expression.

Augere shook his head and pressed play.

Occasionally one of them made a brief comment related to the film, but mostly they both watched quietly. It was a good thing Jason had seen it before as he could barely concentrate. This was a turning point in their relationship; he felt sure of it. Good things would come of this; they would talk more, become better acquainted. Already Jason could see himself at this job for years to come; he had been foolish to feel so insecure. All was good finally; they had made a real connection.

He did not see Augere, not even once, for two weeks afterward. No weekly meeting. Nothing.

Depression, anxiety and insecurity returned in full force as he obsessed over every detail of that afternoon.

He was probably turned off—grossed out—by all the junk food I’d brought. Especially since he never seems to eat, and he is so thin. If only he realized—I usually eat very healthy! You are never like this! he lamented. What is wrong with you? He reproached himself for his poor judgment. For his need for Augere’s presence. For being someone who binged on junk food occasionally.

Maybe Augere thought better of it—that it wasn’t a good idea to blur the line between employer and employee, and that experience they had shared was just “too social.” Or maybe he just found me boring and dull. Not worth spending any time with at all. Jason’s dark thoughts and darker imaginings brought his spirits even lower.

“Well,” he sighed. At least I have my class now to look forward to. And he hasn’t fired me yet. I wonder what he’s waiting for.

Jason continued going to the gym, mechanically, for something else to occupy him while the cinema class offered welcome distraction.

He sought out company at some of the goth themed bars in Boston—there were not as many choices as there had been when he lived there before. A bar in Cambridge regularly featured “Heros,” a club event where he could dance to old school Goth, 80’s new wave, punk and industrial music and enjoy a vodka or several with the event’s charming and lovely hostess Ms. Tine. Nice people, a good crowd. And now it seemed everyone in town was paired up. Which only emphasized his own sense of isolation, a feeling which was new for him.

He had been going out after class on occasional evenings with some of the people from his cinema class. They would see different films around town and then stop for coffee and discussion afterward.

Several of them went to the Orson Welles theater one evening, and then left to try a new place—Just Desserts near Harvard Square, afterward. Jason lingered with them for a while, but grew less interested as the conversation drifted away from movies. He became restless; he wanted other diversions, and decided to take off on his own.

He stopped at a bar in Central Square, where loud ’70s rock was playing; not a typical choice for him. They had a two for one drink special and he met a girl there. She had sort of come on to him, actually. She was petite, blonde; a little too raucous and flirtatious—not really his type at all. But she was funny, and cute in an effortless way. They ended up making out in a booth at the back of the bar; after a few more drinks and some heavy kissing and groping, it seemed pretty clear they both knew what else they wanted. She didn’t offer to take him home; he thought about taking her to a hotel, but that seemed like a cheap gesture to him. He had lots of room and privacy; they could go to his place.

They got a cab and she continued making out with him on the ride. He suggested they stop on the way and get condoms. “Oh, pretty sure of yourself, aren’t you?” she laughed playfully, pursing her lips.

Jason blushed slightly. “I just thought—”

“Don’t worry,” she said as she grabbed at his arm. “I’m pretty sure I have some in my purse.”

They entered the house through his private entrance, and she expressed her delight at “being lured to such a swank place.” Moments later they were making out on his couch.

She had a rough physicality, a raw sexuality about her that stirred him. It had been a long time since he had sex with anyone. He paused in nuzzling her neck, to ask about the condoms, and she seemed irked he had stopped. “They’re in my bag somewhere,” she said, in an annoyed tone, as she grabbed at his crouch roughly and then started kissing his neck. Her purse lay on the couch between them, and much as he disliked doing so he began to rummage through her bag with one hand since she had made no move to do so herself. He fumbled, blindly searching for the condoms, as she began to unzip and then fondle him. He only had one free hand to search, as his other hand now enclosed one naked voluptuous breast and his eyes were on her chest. He abandoned the search, unable to keep from responding to her and beginning to feel ready now, as he put his mouth to the other naked breast.

His cell phone, lying on the wooden coffee table, began to loudly vibrate.

His first impulse was to completely ignore it. Which he did.

But the vibrating phone continued, insistent. Then he suddenly realized who it must be. He reluctantly tried to pull himself away from her. “I have to take this,” he explained. Maybe it’s just a wrong number.

He looked at the caller ID. “You have got to be kidding me.”

“Hello?” he said into the phone.

“I need you to bring the car around to my door. It is necessary for you to drive me,” Augere said tonelessly.

“Uh…is it something I could do for you tomorrow?”

“No. Be there within ten minutes.”

“I’ll be right there.” He clicked off, and sighed. He explained to the girl he was on call, that the call concerned his job and it was his boss who had just called, and he was really sorry, but he had to go.

“What the fuck?” she said angrily. “Just tell him to fuck off.” She grabbed at his crotch again as he stood beside her.

“No, I really…have to go.” He briefly considered having her wait there until he returned. But he didn’t know her. Just now, he couldn’t even think of her name. And how long would they be gone? What if she ripped him off? Or worse, what if she ripped off Augere? No. Better not take the chance. She had to go.

She was definitely not taking it well. She quickly became belligerent and so foul mouthed that it took him by surprise. True, she was a little drunk. He didn’t expect her to be totally understanding, but he was still surprised at how quickly her attitude turned, how ugly she got toward him.

He called a taxi for her while he hastily rearranged his clothing. He had her out through his private entrance and waiting at the curb in about five minutes. He got the car and backed it out onto the street. Augere emerged from his private entrance just as the girl was climbing into the cab. He had to have seen her, Jason knew, but that didn’t mean he would necessarily connect her to him. Jason had mixed feelings of relief and regret that things had not worked out as planned.

Augere got into the back seat and handed Jason a note with an address on it. It was a specialty liquor store near Harvard Square. Jason stared at the address for a few moments. This? No liquor store will be open at this hour. This is urgent? This couldn’t wait?

Jason drove toward Massachusetts Avenue. He wasn’t sure if he felt angry or just irritated. Augere had not called him, not even once, in all this time, until now. What timing.

The night was warm and Jason opened the window to get some fresh air. He had begun to sober up quickly. The air felt good, refreshing.

Don’t show him any anger. This is your job. It is what is important to him, not what is important to you. There is plenty of time to fool around. You’ve got it good here. Don’t screw it up. Don’t give him a reason to get rid of you. Jason repeated the phrases to himself. But he couldn’t suppress a deep sigh. The liquor store was not even going to be open. All this for nothing.

When Jason arrived at the given address, he was surprised to see a man standing inside a darkened liquor store, who appeared to be waiting for them. When the car stopped, the man came out carrying a cardboard box that appeared heavy. It made a clinking sound as he placed in on the back seat opposite Augere. Augere handed the man something—money, Jason guessed, and they spoke for several minutes in what sounded to Jason like a Slavic language. Then the man wished Jason a good evening in perfect, unaccented English.

Augere then told him to take the turnpike to 495 West.

Jason nodded and started the car. Now where are we going? They had been on the turnpike for quite some time when Augere told him to get off at the next exit.

As he took the exit ramp, Jason became nervous. Nothing was out here. It was an unfamiliar area and all around him there was only deep dark woods—or maybe open fields—it was so dark he really couldn’t tell for sure. Even the car’s high beams did little to penetrate the darkness. They were in the middle of nowhere.

Why did he bring me out to this desolate place? His paranoid thoughts returned. He didn’t feel safe suddenly. Now what? He had an impulse to step on the gas and just get out of there, to drive toward any place where there was light, people, safety, and—

“Stop! Here.” The words startled him and he swerved the car onto the shoulder of the road, or what he could see of it, and stopped. He turned around quickly to look at Augere, but all he saw was the rear door closing. Augere was gone! Jason was stunned. He must have gotten out even before the car had stopped. Jason quickly locked all the doors and sat peering all around him in the darkness. There was nothing to see but pitch black. They seemed to be in a thickly wooded area. He still couldn’t be sure. The sky was darker than usual and starless. It was even too dark and creepy for him.

Where the hell did he go? What is he doing? Jason glanced around nervously at the box on the back seat. Just some bottles. Old looking. Nothing too unusual. He couldn’t look really close. He was too fearful to concentrate.

A few minutes passed. Then several more. Jason turned on his cell phone but he got a weak signal. At that point he just wanted to drive off; leave him. Call the police—and, then what? Ten more minutes passed. He felt like he just could not sit there one more—

A sound at the rear side window made him jump. Augere was at the back door, tapping gently on the glass.

He reluctantly unlocked the doors and Augere got in and then calmly said, “We can return home now.” Jason started the car and quickly accelerated. To his unbelieving eyes he easily found the ramp back onto the main highway, and he didn’t care if they were pulled over for speeding or not.

All the way back home, Jason felt an immense relief just to be heading back toward civilization. He tried to make some sense out of all that had just happened.

Maybe he really just had to go, Jason thought. But it occurred to him they had passed by numerous places that were much more appropriate; well lit, well peopled and where there were likely to be facilities. Had they been heading somewhere else, and Augere had changed his mind? Had he gotten ill? I don’t think I could have done what he did, no matter what, Jason thought. How could he even see where he was going? How freaking dangerous was it out there? Jason shuddered at the thought.

He could have told me he needed to stop. Was he just embarrassed?

No matter what, Jason would not make mention of this to him. Just let it go, that would be best.

Augere was silent the entire ride home, which lasted more than thirty minutes. Jason took a few glances at him in the rearview mirror. Augere sat quietly, gazing out the window.

Augere lifted his box off the seat and said good evening when Jason dropped him off at the front of the house. Jason parked the car and not long afterward climbed into bed. It was 3:30 in the morning; he was more exhausted than he realized and he soon fell asleep, letting the weirdness of the evening slip away.

The events of the night before came to him with clarity as he awoke. He instinctively knew trying to take it all in stride was the best way to go, to avoid any further awkwardness between them. Even if he understood none of what had happened or why. He pushed thoughts of the girl from his mind and wrote it off as a bad decision best forgotten. Her behavior still concerned him greatly, but it seemed there was nothing he could do about it.

The day after next, Jason returned from the gym around noon. As he was headed to the kitchen to make himself lunch, he encountered Augere in the foyer.

“Are you busy?” Augere asked him.

Jason shrugged. “No.”

“Will you drive me to the ocean?”

“To—the Cape?”

“Not so far as that. The north shore will do.”

“Sure—uhmm…did you want to stay out there a while? I could bring the folding chairs…?”

“Yes! Excellent.” His voice displayed more enthusiasm than Jason was used to. This felt like a surprise gift to him. Here was another chance to get to know him perhaps. Jason was suddenly very much looking forward to doing something that had not even occurred to him a moment before.

Jason thought to grab a bottle of white wine, a corkscrew, and some paper cups as he was picking up a book to take with him. He tossed all of these into his backpack and then got the folding chairs and put them into the trunk.

He pulled the car around and picked up Augere, who stood waiting in the front of the house. He was holding a book he was bringing to read.

As they drove out toward Gloucester, Jason stole occasional glances at him in the rearview mirror, his thoughts focused on Augere. He always sat in the back; did he like the feeling of being chauffeured? He seemed different today; not as languid; a little more energetic. There was a little color to his cheek and his eyes were intensely violet blue today. He looked almost cheerful.

It was late afternoon on a weekday so parking was not a problem; they easily found a stretch of beach all to themselves. Augere seemed to be waiting for Jason so stake out a spot, which he did, and then Augere rested his book on the folding chair, keeping his usual distance.

Jason put on his sunglasses, as Augere had done, and looked out to sea from the comfort of his lounge chair. He kicked off his shoes and then, dangling one leg off of the lounger, he dug his bare toes into the warm sand. A delicately cooling breeze ruffled his hair as he expressed a deep sigh of contentment.

He wondered now if maybe Augere had been ill. Maybe he had a recurring illness. And maybe he is just now feeling better. Could he be germ phobic too? Those explanations could account for some of his behaviors: his always keeping a physical distance; his paleness; the long intervals spent away from people.

Jason closed his eyes and absorbed the gentle breezes and the soothing sounds of the waves rolling into shore. After a while he thought why haven’t I done this before? I could have been having this peace and contentment more often. What a good idea to come here and relax. He felt hopeful. The world was full of possibilities again.

And once again he felt he was bridging the gap between Augere and himself. The transition to his new life was finally unfolding as it should.

He opened his eyes and gazed out to the horizon. Now Augere was standing at the water’s edge, looking out to sea. He had been standing there a long time now.

I can’t help wondering what he is thinking and feeling right now. Does he find peace here? The same kind of contentment I feel? This life I have now—it is really because of him. He has made this possible. Whatever it is that makes him sad, withdrawn, and isolated— I hope there is some relief from that trouble or sorrow for him here.

People strolled by; children ran and played. Seagulls cried and circled overhead. Jason caught the strains of a Bob Dylan song playing on a radio nearby and the raspy voice he loved was singing “Standing in the Doorway.” The song had intrigued him from the first time he heard it. He could relate to those words somehow. There might be something bad coming, someday. But not right now. Not here. This might just be a fleeting sense of safety and comfort but for right now just welcome the peaceful serenity of the present. Be here in the moment.

Jason opened the novel he had brought and began to read. Augere finally returned to his chair and sat, as Jason observed, not as heavily and clumsily as he himself had, but lightly, as if he were no more than a feather settled by the wind. Augere picked up his book and began to read.

After a while, Jason opened the wine and poured some into a cup and silently handed it to Augere, who took it without a word and drank. Jason poured some for himself. There was no need for either of them to speak; no words needed to be said.

They watched as the sun began to sink into the horizon. I haven’t seen enough sunsets, Jason thought. He poured them both more of the wine. Then he continued looking to sea. The sun was quickly disappearing and he focused on the image intently now, searching for le rayon vert. Did Augere know of this?

But the green ray was elusive this time, as usual. When you see the green ray, you gain a clear perspective of your true self, of your own true feelings, and the same truths about whomever is with you. This was from one of his favorite Rohmer films. I guess that truth will just have to wait.

He found it necessary to glance at Augere from time to time. At intervals Jason felt the absence of his presence; as if Augere had simply faded from sight. But always, there was the reassuring view of him, right there. Jason still did not know quite what to make of this persistent strangeness, but he felt less and less as if it were simply misperception on his part. Something strange was going on but he could not quite grasp or define it.

The sparsely occupied beach began to empty out even more as it grew dark. Jason had closed his book a while ago; Augere was still peering into his. He can’t possibly see well enough to read; there is not enough light to see much of anything, much less to read.

Finally Jason began to gather up his things and Augere joined him as they carried their chairs back to the car. On the leisurely drive home they had their windows open, enjoying the night air and an unspoken shared contentment.

Chapter 7

August

For the rest of the summer, they managed to get out to the shore several more times. Usually Jason brought wine, and occasionally things to eat such as cheese, bread, fresh fruit, olives.

“What would it take,” Jason asked Augere late one afternoon, as they sat on a beach near Rockport, “to get you to eat just one olive? Just one segment of orange?”

A brief flicker of amusement rose in the violet blue eyes, a small hint of a smile at the corners of his mouth. “Why is it important to you?” Augere asked him.

“I just want to know, that at least once, I actually saw you eat something.”

“I……eat.”

Jason frowned slightly with a lingering look at him before popping a green olive into his mouth.

Augere had begun to invite Jason more frequently to watch movies with him. Sometimes Jason was invited to select the film, which he saw as another positive step in their burgeoning relationship.

Sometimes after watching a movie, they would talk for a while, though always too briefly, about a variety of things: books and film adaptations; travel, sometimes regarding the movie locations; art, music and philosophy as integral parts of films. Augere always had interesting comments and observations. These brief discussions confirmed Jason’s earlier impressions of Augere: he was quite articulate and had an extensive vocabulary; and though knowledgeable, he was not always current on contemporary subjects. Jason learned Augere had been born in France, which should not have surprised him, that French and Italian were his native languages, having learned English later as an adult. Jason was impressed at how well and how thoroughly Augere had picked up English in such a relatively short time, given his young age. These tantalizing details only made Jason hungry to know more about him.

“Mr. Augere tells me he has been going to the beach, and I find that a little hard to imagine.” James Genier laughed gently when he called Jason to check in. “How did you manage that?”

“It was his idea, actually. We take folding chairs and wine and we relax, read, enjoy the fresh air.”

“Yes, he does sound more relaxed. I had been telling him he needed to get out more. I am glad to see it happen.” A brief pause, then, “Is he being decent to you?”

The question surprised Jason.

“He has been fine to me, yes. He seems willing to open up a little more lately, but it is still kind of hard to draw him out—”

“Hmmm… Any problems or concerns?” Genier asked.

“Not a concern, really, just a question: would you say he is germ phobic?” Jason immediately regretted putting it so bluntly.

There was a pause. “I don’t think I would describe him as such. I know he does not like to be touched, or to be in close, crowded places though.”

“So, perhaps a little claustrophobic, maybe?”

“It would be quite fair to say that, yes. Definitely.”

There was more he wanted to ask, but he thought it inappropriate to pry into Augere’s personal life. Things he was meant to know would probably be revealed in time. Or not.

Augere sometimes surprised him with the kinds of things he would ask, out of the blue: “What is the global warming? What is the crisis that currently concerns everyone? Why are people afraid?” There would be rapid fire questions, catching Jason by surprise. Once, when Jason stopped to get gas for the car, Augere, who was present, asked why he was allowed to do that himself. Jason explained that practically everyone had to pump their own gas these days. Augere requested that Jason show him how to do it. The disparity of information when it came to Augere would cause Jason to take stock: Augere, wearing one of his T-shirts that said Vandelay Industries, Purveyors of Fine Latex Products, or Invader Zim or Cthulhu Waits and Dreams would cause Jason to wonder: how can he know about ‘that’ but not know anything at all about ‘this’? Then he would shake his head and laugh.

At first Jason would go into detail with his explanations in response to Augere’s inquiries, but he soon learned Augere would quickly appear bored and distracted. Whenever Augere would turn to him now with an inquisitive look, Jason knew to give brief, to the point responses. Augere wanted the digest, not the full version.

At one of their Thursday morning meetings, Augere asked if Jason would arrange for him to attend a concert, but “not in California. I never go there.” He said there was a young woman whom he wanted to see perform.

“Okay, sure. Who is it you want to see?”

Augere retrieved a note he had written on a scrap of paper and had slipped into the pages of his journal.

“Her name is Janis Joplin.”

Jason stared at him for several moments. Augere’s expression was a serious one. Jason had heard the name before…whatever had happened to her? He associated her with his parents music. He had to look her up on the internet.

“I’m afraid I have some bad news. She died quite some time ago.” Long before you were born, Jason thought.

Augere looked at him in that intent, solemn way he had. “I see,” he said quietly. He asked for no other information.

But Jason ventured a question. “Why do you say you never go to California?”

Augere shrugged one shoulder. “Earthquakes. Raging fires. Mudslides. Hollywood.”

Jason nodded solemnly. “I see. You want to avoid all the catastrophes.”

Sometimes while he was driving him places, Jason would mention a desire to stop at Dunkin Donuts, or a sub place, or at Boston House of Pizza, and would ask if Augere wanted anything. Invariably, the look he got from Augere suggested he truly had no idea what Jason was talking about. It always seemed odd to Jason that Augere could be so out of the loop. About so many things.

One day, while they were sitting at the beach, Augere suddenly turned to him and surprised him by saying:

“You must wonder that I lack such common knowledge. As if I have lived behind a rock or under the times. But you always patiently take the time to explain.”

Jason untangled the mixed metaphors as he regarded him silently. The comment touched him more deeply than he was prepared to admit. He was never condescending toward Augere but he felt a little self-conscious that Augere had noticed it. He simply accepted him as he was.

“I don’t have any problem with that.” Jason lowered his gaze. “I don’t judge you.”

“No. Not yet.”

Jason looked up quickly, expecting to see Augere’s wry smile. But his expression was quite serious.

Jason regarded it as a strange moment between them; an incomplete exchange, as if something significant had been left unsaid.

Later, when he reflected on all he’d learned, Jason thought he had a better understanding of why Augere might need someone like him around. It wasn’t just to run errands or perform menial tasks. Augere needed someone to help fill in the gaps in the things he did not know. And Augere and Genier might not readily know where those gaps were until a situation came up. It was not something that could be easily anticipated.

There were definitely strange things about Augere. But maybe there were rational explanations for them too. Some traumatic event might have happened, one that had caused him to miss out on things most guys his age would know. And how old was he when he lost his whole family? How did that happen exactly? Knowing some of this would be helpful.

He began to speculate on things that might have occurred. A huge accident of some kind. Maybe he was the only survivor. Maybe he had even been in a coma…that could be it. Jason tried applying that scenario to Augere, based on his limited knowledge of such things.

When Jason was growing up a neighbor’s son had been in a coma after a sports injury. Jason remembered his parents discussing it with the boy’s family from time to time. Jason never met the boy, who was seven years older, and had been in a coma for several years. The real difficulties had come when the boy came out of it. All of his friends had graduated by then and some had gone on to college, or were married with kids, while he had still been frozen in time. There had been an overwhelming amount of change for him to adjust to when he returned to the world. Jason supposed perhaps something similar could have happened to Augere. It was one possible explanation.

But Augere doesn’t owe me any explanations, he reasoned. I don’t know his circumstances. But it isn’t hard for me to show some empathy and patience toward him, regardless. He saw Augere a little more regularly, but never predictably. His obsession with Augere was strongly renewed whenever he did not see him for a while. It was an uncomfortable feeling to him, as if he had actually begun to crave seeing him. He tried to downplay that idea. It was unhealthy and bordered on obsession.

Jason continued to find odd and unusual things about him. He found Augere in the library one afternoon with a set of keys on his desk. There had to be seventy-five or more keys on one large ring. Jason wondered what he would possibly need that many keys for.

Augere selected several, seemingly at random, and removed a total of six keys from the ring.

“I need copies made of these,” Augere said to him.

Jason nodded. He picked up the keys and looked them over. There was no color coding, no distinctive markings or shape of any kind he could see, not even any numbers on them. How did Augere distinguish these from so many of the other keys of similar if not identical size and shape? Jason decided to ask.

Augere’s impassive expression accompanied his explanation. “I just know.”

On another occasion, Jason noticed Augere writing in his old leather bound journal. He was using one of his several fountain pens. At the time they were watching a movie together and Augere would occasionally write something in the journal. Jason happened to glance over at him and realized Augere was writing several lines in the journal without once taking his eyes off of the movie. Even from his angled viewpoint the written lines were neatly done on the page, whole paragraphs of them in fact. Jason stared for several moments, mesmerized. How does he do that? He wondered. Writing line after continuous line without even glancing at the page? He had to force himself to look away to keep from staring too obviously.

One evening Jason had been watching TV in his quarters and got up to go to the kitchen for a drink. I think I need a small refrigerator in my library or the bedroom. The kitchen just seems too far away sometimes.

As he crossed the foyer he noticed the double doors to the library were open. Jason hadn’t seen Augere in several days as usual. As he got closer he heard familiar music playing softly from within. Jason quietly approached the doorway. The only illumination was from several tall white candles placed in a small candelabra that sat on the tall dark wooden wine rack. And Jason thought he detected the scent of a pleasant and familiar incense. Nag Champa, maybe. He stood in the doorway, intrigued by the ambience within.

“Are you busy?” Augere asked without turning around. No matter how quiet Jason was, Augere always seemed aware of him right away.

“No.” Jason was acquiring Augere’s economy with words.

“Have some absinthe with me.”

Jason approached as Augere turned to face him.

He seemed in a good mood. It may have been a trick of the candlelight but his face had a healthier glow than usual. His eyes shone more intensely violet than Jason had seen in a while.

Absinthe? Jason had meant to try some when he was in New Orleans, but hadn’t found time to do so. The liqueur was not something he had been able to find easily in Minnesota.

Maybe right now was a good time. He recognized the sexy soft voices and sounds of the Enigma CD that was playing—it was something he knew of from his parents music collection and the whispered phrases in French intermingled with Gregorian chant had held seductive appeal for him. He felt comforted by the familiarity of it just now.

Jason gazed around him. On the desk stood a large old looking bottle with a faded label. He peered at it and read: C. Comoz Absinthe des Alpes. Chambery. He could barely make out what looked like 1880 or maybe 1881 on the dusty label. Two tall glasses—Augere owned glasses?—stood beside the bottle. Had he been expecting someone? Someone else?

A crystal pitcher of water and ice also occupied the desktop beside the bottle; alongside that was an ornate silver spoon and a glass container of sugar in small cubes. Silver tongs rested on the sugar.

Jason took a seat nearby where he could watch as Augere began the absinthe ritual Jason had only ever read about. Jason became totally absorbed in the process. He vaguely wondered if this substance was legal. It must be, now.

Augere placed the silver slotted spoon over one of the tall glasses, both of which already had a small amount of clear liquid in them. He placed a sugar cube, using the delicate silver tongs, on the silver spoon and slowly poured icy water over them. He then repeated the same process with the other glass, slowly and patiently, expertly allowing the contents to combine and transform into a milky cloud.

“I’ve never had this before,” Jason stated.

“Not many have ever had this before.”

“I mean, I’ve never had any absinthe before.”

While the second glass completed its transformation Augere studied Jason for a few moments.

The music changed to a familiar quick tempo bluesy tune, probably from a different CD, the name of which escaped Jason just then.

“It is not the poison it once was. Not this particular one,” He said in his soft mellow voice. “It will not make you insane. If that is your concern.”

Jason had not even thought of that.

As Augere placed one of the glasses in front of Jason, he wondered if he should be concerned. He had never gotten into drugs, not really; he had tried cocaine once. Smoked a fair amount of pot in college though. He wasn’t a particularly serious drinker. Jason eyed the old bottle on the desk. It seemed obvious this was something very old, and possibly rare. And Augere had invited him to share it. He watched as Augere lifted his own glass.

It was as if Augere knew Jason was waiting for him to take a sip. Augere wouldn’t give him something harmful, right? Or take something harmful himself?

Jason didn’t want to appear nervous about trying it. He wanted to come across as sophisticated and worldly. But he still waited until Augere took another sip. Jason took a small taste. Smooth. Pleasant. Subtle, unexpected flavors. He really liked it. He took another sip.

“Is it to your liking?” Augere asked.

“Yes. Thank you.” Jason sipped more, savoring it.

Why did I think he wouldn’t really drink it? Something half remembered… No—Augere and he had been drinking wine together for the past few weeks.

The music seemed to change again; or Jason was just then becoming aware of it. A lively Cajun sounding tune, both wistful and upbeat at the same time was playing now…

They continued sipping their drinks without speaking.

Jason felt quite mellow. More mellow than he had in a long time. His thoughts were quick and lucid; he was fully in control of his faculties; his senses were sharp, defined. It was a different kind of buzz than he was used to. A quite pleasant one. He was enjoying Augere’s silent company too. He wanted to stay…to drink more…to talk to Augere and learn all there was to know about him…or not. Maybe just stay here in silent proximity to him.

His glass was empty now. Augere had not quite finished all of his.

“Should we have some more?” Jason asked. Augere actually laughed a little. A very pleasant musically melodic sound, unlike anything else; a sound so rarely heard.

“Oh, yes,” he said. “But not tonight. Another time.”

****

Jason arrived a little early for his class the next morning. He sipped at a coffee from the student union as he sat on a bench near the door to the classroom. His copy of the class schedule for September sat on the bench next to him. He really wanted to take another cinema class, and he had to hurry up and register, now, if it was going to happen. He still had not been able to bring up the idea to Augere. But things had worked out well so far. Why couldn’t this just continue to go on this way? Augere didn’t have to know. Why rock the boat?

Out of the corner of his eye he noticed a girl sit down on the same bench, a short distance away. A brunette who seemed vaguely familiar to him. He shyly stole a quick glance in her direction. Attractive. Exotic looking even.

“Are you taking McGregor’s class in the fall?”

Jason glanced at her again. She was speaking to him. Her voice had a charming tone to it. A slight accent as well.

“I want to.”

She nodded. “I couldn’t get in this session. It was full. But he’s letting me sit in from time to time.” Jason hadn’t noticed her in class before. Or had he? She did look familiar. She gazed at him with beautiful dark blue eyes. Her shoulder length dark hair fell in layers to her shoulders. Pale, refined features. Exactly the kind of girl he was usually attracted to.

Jason nodded. “It has been an excellent class.” He felt stilted, awkward; not sure of what else to say.

“I already registered for September.” She nodded.

I have got to register for that class, Jason thought. Today.

“Are there seats left?” he asked.

“Not many. I wouldn’t wait.” she advised, dazzling him with a beautiful smile. She extended her hand. “I’m Zavi Verano,” she announced.

“Jason Sterling,” he said taking hold of her delicate hand and shaking it. “I can’t place your accent.”

She laughed a little, perhaps somewhat nervously he thought. It was a pleasantly lilting sound; her voice had a unique quality to it.

“Well, I was born in London, but I grew up in Spain and then France, before we moved back to the UK when I was fifteen. So, I don’t know how to categorize it either.”

“Well, that would explain it. And now you live in Boston?”

“Oh, no, still a resident of the UK. My aunt and uncle both teach at this University, and I wanted to come to school here for the experience, to spend time in the US. So here I am.”

“What is your major?” he asked, then became irked at himself for the cliché question.

She laughed again. “Well, —this week it is still cultural anthropology but I have been thinking of changing to psychology and philosophy. Presently I have been totally enchanted studying the Wodaabe tribe especially—‘the people of the taboo’——do you know of them?” Jason shook his head. “The men make themselves up to look beautiful,” she explained, “and compete with other men showing off their white teeth with exaggerated smiles to attract females. Sometimes their own charisma actually makes some of the men faint.”

Jason laughed. “That’s—actually kind of weirdly charming.” He was already enchanted by her.

“I know—isn’t it?” She laughed. “I find them and their unusual traditions to be quite fascinating. I am still quite interested in them.”

“But now—you’ve gravitated to cinema studies?”

“Oh, no—it has always been cinema for me. I am mad about the movies. I actually had a walk-on in one of Eric Rohmer’s films as a kid in Paris— I was very young but so excited!”

“Get out! He is one of my favorites.” Jason totally liked this girl.

“Mine too! I have seen all of his films I think.”

“You hear people say his films are too ‘talky’ and there is not enough action—that nothing ever happens. But what’s wrong with that? And in an interpersonal sense there is always a lot going on.”

“I totally agree,” she said enthusiastically.

They had coffee after class and shared info about each other. She was intelligent, funny, beautiful, worldly and exotic. Jason was surprised at how comfortable he felt just being with her, as if they had already known each other a long time. They made a date for the weekend to see a movie. Jason was so wrapped up in her, he almost forgot to check his phone. But when he did, there were no calls.

The next morning he was retrieving his mail from the mailbox at his private entrance to the house when his neighbor Seraphine Westenra walked by and paused to greet him.

“Hi Jason! How are things?”

“Fine, thanks. How are you?”

“I have been crazy busy getting ready for a gallery opening…hey, I haven’t seen your companion lately—is everything okay with you two?”

“Uhmm, yeah… actually, I think there has been a little misunderstanding. We are—he is—my employer.”

She gave him a quizzical look. “So…then…he pays you?”

“Yes.”

“Well…it looks like you’ve done quite well for yourself.”

Jason wasn’t quite sure she had gotten it straight yet, but before he could make further clarification, she changed the subject with intriguing comments.

“My husband and I remember attending some great events here.” She sighed, scanning the building as she reminisced. “They threw great parties.”

They? Jason wondered. “Here?” Jason asked. “When was that?”

“When the Crenshaws lived here. That ballroom was just beautiful. I hope you’ve kept that exquisite chandelier? We had marvelous dinner parties here too, quite often; such wonderful witty company.” She sighed. “I can’t believe he is gone. It all happened so fast, and so tragically. Such a lovely couple. I heard she moved to Europe right after the building sold.” Her face held a wistful expression. “I really miss both of them. Such dear people.” She sighed. “Well, I won’t keep you. I still hope to have the two of you over sometime—don’t forget.” She winked at him. “I can’t imagine having him, this house, and getting paid! Well done, sir!”

She was on her way before he could comment. He shook his head. He rather liked her. It still seemed as if he really needed to clarify a few things with her though. He began to wonder what time frame she was speaking about. Had Augere been connected to these Crenshaw people? But how? No. It couldn’t be. Maybe she was talking about quite a while ago—though Jason had just assumed the house had been in Augere’s family. But—so what if it had been purchased recently. That in itself had no special significance…right?

Jason had been able to register for the class—Themes in Cinema—for September. The positive experience of the current class was recommendation enough. And besides, that intriguing girl was going to be in the class too.

When he got home from school he made himself a sandwich and as he was heading back to his quarters, his mind still preoccupied with the topic of that day’s discussion, he paused at the open doors to the library. He was delighted to see Augere, who had once again been absent for days. He was watching a movie on DVD.

He boldly entered and said hello, with one eye on the screen. The opening credits for Groundhog Day were rolling by.

“I’ve seen this many times” Jason stated. “It’s probably one of my favorites.”

“I quite enjoy it as well.”

They had just been discussing this film in his class today. An amazing coincidence, Jason thought. He was still brimming with enthusiasm from the class discussion.

“Personally I think it’s one of Bill Murray’s best. It is such an interesting idea, don’t you think? Having to live the same day over and over again until you finally get it right.”

Augere nodded once. Jason thought he seemed amenable to conversation just now but he was on a roll and probably would have continued anyway, carried away with his own enthusiasm.

“Apparently the intended time frame was ten years. That he was trapped I mean. My thought was—why was he motivated to change? He was a boorish, self-centered person; but being trapped in time there were no consequences for his behavior; every day the slate was wiped clean. So then why did he want to change? Maybe because he was unable to kill himself, though he certainly tried to do so. Maybe he began to realize the only way out of the time trap was for something different to occur, and that difference had to involve him. Or did he really just want to be a better person—because he realized he was attracted to someone he could not have otherwise? I guess that was a possibility.”

“Perhaps.” Augere regarded him with a thoughtful expression. It prompted Jason to continue.

“I remember reading something…not directly related to this, but this movie reminds me of it—a feeling of having your soul caught on a nail and you cannot get free.”

Augere looked at him with more intense interest.

“I’ve just learned that a psychiatrist, Massimo Lanzaro, did a Jungian analysis of this movie. The film uses the metaphor of the ground hog’s shadow to represent that part of Bill Murray’s character—who is also called Phil—” Jason paused to see if Augere was following—and if he was interested. Augere wore a blank expression. Jason decided to continue anyway.

“…Punxatawney Phil? The groundhog’s name?”

Augere nodded once.

“—the Shadow being that part of us that we fail to see or to know; it is all we would not want to be and the sum of all the unpleasant parts of our personality we prefer to keep well hidden—the private, primitive self.” Jason paused. “Anyway, it was a great article and I just happened to read it.” In my class, he was careful not to mention.

Augere seemed attentive and interested and Jason loved sharing such ideas with him. He continued rambling.

“Did you know that Danny Rubin, who wrote the story and screenplay of this, was intrigued with the idea of living forever? He said he was influenced by reading Interview With the Vampire—this cinema studies class I’ve been taking has just been a wealth of details and information about the backgrounds of so many films—

Jason paused, seeing Augere’s expression become tense; his eyes narrowed and he appeared wary. It caught Jason off guard. Augere was scrutinizing him intently now. Was he angry? Upset?

And then Jason realized: in his enthusiasm to share with Augere what he had learned he had blurted out about taking the cinema class. Of course. That had to be it.

Well, it was out in the open now. Full confession was called for.

“I am sorry, Mr. Augere. I had wanted to tell you, several times, about taking this class, but the right moment never seemed to come up.” Augere was regarding him with such intensity Jason almost involuntarily thought of getting up and leaving the room. But he remained frozen to the spot. After several painfully long moments, Augere dropped his gaze.

“Continue,” he said softly.

“I know I should have asked you first. My obligation is to you, and I always have my phone with me. I was prepared to leave class right away if you called.”

Augere looked at him again. Jason thought he had gotten used to the long pauses and those long steady gazes from Augere, but this felt quite different somehow. Jason almost felt ill this time.

“Is that where you go early in the morning?”

Jason nodded slowly. So—he had already suspected something.

There was uncomfortable silence again. Jason began rambling once more, out of nervousness.

“From 8:00 to 11:00 three days a week. I am always back by noon. I thought…since I never see you before 11:00 anyway, and there’s no class on Thursday, that it might be okay—”

“You believe I do not approve of how you spend your free time?”

“I know I should have asked you first. You are paying for my time. I should not have made plans like these without consulting you first. Since it did not conflict with the meetings on Thursdays, and I could respond quickly if needed, I just thought maybe—”

Augere picked up a glass of crushed ice from his desk and began to crunch on several small pieces with a thoughtful expression.

“I suppose the only way you may continue then, since I am paying you, is for you to be willing to share information obtained from this class. I do not see another alternative. Are you amenable to this?”

Jason did not see that coming. “Yes, of course. I will do that.” He felt a surge of exhilaration. “There is another cinema class coming up soon. I would love to take that one too.”

Augere nodded once.

“Actually, I had wanted to take some classes in paranormal studies. That was my first choice. But there aren’t any. So I hooked up with a local paranormal group. I might as well confess to that now too, just to keep everything out in the open.

“We will do investigations, visit haunted locations, that sort of thing, so I really hope that will be okay too—” Jason stopped himself. He was rambling again. But he wanted to get all of it out now; he wanted no secrets between them.

Jason saw a flicker of amusement in Augere’s eyes. Augere leaned back in his chair and seemed to be reflecting for a moment. Then he leaned toward the desk again. He rested his elbows on the desk, and brought a knuckle up to his lower lip. It looked to Jason as if he were trying to suppress a smile.

“Do I understand correctly you desire to study the paranormal—the supernatural?”

“Yes.” Jason nodded for emphasis. He was definitely sensing that Augere found this amusing.

Augere picked up his glass and was crunching ice again with a thoughtful expression.

“And what type of activity would that involve?”

Jason was a little surprised at the question. His interest in the paranormal had been gone over extensively, exhaustively in fact, by Matthew Genier, during the employment screening process. Surely Augere knew that. Didn’t he?

“Research using different types of equipment. EMF readers, digital voice recorders; possibly some infrared devices. Tri-field meter and K II meters; the Oracle and shack hack—” He paused, seeing Augere’s uncomprehending expression. “There is quite a variety of technology used, from simple to more sophisticated. I have a range of equipment and I study and investigate all kinds of anomalies and paranormal phenomena. I am always hopeful of capturing data to provide definitive proof of the existence of paranormal and supernatural occurrences and entities.”

“You will discover the presence of supernatural beings? With—your equipment? You will be able to study these?” Augere asked, his voice definitely carrying a hint of amusement now.

His tone began to irritate Jason a little. He had shown such empathy for Augere, and now it appeared Augere was one of those skeptics who could not open their minds, even a little, to the possibility of the existence of anything from the supernatural realm. Jason wasn’t interested in trying to convince anyone or to convert anyone’s opinion or beliefs. People are skeptics until something happens to them they cannot explain otherwise, he believed. But if Augere viewed this topic with derision it meant one less thing they could share and discuss. And this topic was important to him. Augere’s doubt was a big let-down.

“Yes; I hope to be able to obtain proof that many of these things do exist. Even if the proof is just for myself. For my own personal experience.”

“Do you mean…like Supernatural…on the television?” Augere asked. His expression became serious now. Jason was too surprised to reply for several moments.

“No…I mean, yes, but not exactly like that—how do you even know about that though? I thought you hated television.”

“I do hate television,” Augere replied in a serious tone.

Now Jason suppressed a laugh of his own.

“You would have a break in your studies, would you not?”

“Uhm…during the semester? Yes, there would be.”

“Provide me with the details of the dates of your class then. I have several trips in mind and you must accompany me on these travels.”

“Yes! I will! And—thank you.”

Travel? This is great! I wonder where we are going? Who cares, he thought, I’m ready! Suddenly things were turning out better than he could have expected.

“Well—this could prove to be quite interesting,” Augere said thoughtfully, looking steadily at Jason as he began to crunch more ice.

“I know it is none of my business, but I have been noticing you taking a lot of ice lately. Just curious, what’s up with that?”

Augere quickly dropped his gaze and then became quite still, almost in that way he had when he suddenly “wasn’t there.” Then he turned his gaze fully upon Jason. His eyes were a light grey this time. How many pairs of contacts does he really own? Jason wondered yet again.

“I do not take enough…fluids…sometimes. Biting on ice helps…a little.” The words were spoken so softly it was hard to know if he was meant to hear them.

“Oh. Okay. Well, thanks again, Mr. Augere. If the class begins to interfere in any way, I will drop it. I want to be clear I know my first obligation is to you.”

Augere nodded once.

Chapter 8

September

Jason began his new class, Themes in Cinema, right after Labor Day. Already it looked to be at least as interesting, if not more, than the previous class. And he had the extra pleasure of having his new friend Zavi beside him.

He arrived home at noon after the first class, having emerged from the subway into pouring rain. Rain? In New England? In the fall? Who would have imagined. He laughed. He had forgotten to take his umbrella that morning.

He was thoroughly soaked as he walked in the front door, but at least his messenger bag had managed to keep his book and papers dry. He did not want to track water and dirt across the gleaming hardwood floor in the foyer, so he removed his wet outer clothes and shoes, and hung the items on the coat rack he had recently installed near the main door.

As he walked across the floor to his quarters in his damp socks, it occurred to him: how was the floor always clean and gleaming? And the table in the foyer was always dust free; always looked polished, he realized now. And hadn’t there been purplish flowers in the hall vase yesterday? When had these pink and white carnations arrived, and who had arranged them in the vase? He supposed Augere could have done it. But the rest of the tidying raised questions.

Even the kitchen always looked spotless. He was used to picking up after himself, but he had never once mopped the floor there; yet it always looked clean. In fact, all of the common areas always looked cared for, picked up, vacuumed, and polished. Do we have a maid?

He got to his room, changed and dried himself off, went to make a sandwich and forgot about the maid question until he saw Augere later that afternoon in the library.

“Are we still watching that Woody Allen movie?” he asked Augere.

“Of course. Eight o’clock.”

“Good. This new class is great so far. This week we are going to be looking at the way Hollywood portrays outcasts. I should have some interesting stuff to share with you even before the end of the week. You know…maybe next semester, you could take a class with me, or maybe even another class you might want to do on your own…”

Augere’s pen paused as he sat writing in his journal. He remained thoughtfully poised for several moments before the scratching sound of the pen resumed. “Doubtful.”

“Well, the offer stands if you change your mind. I think you would be an asset to have in class. Oh—Mr. Augere—I was wondering…” The pen paused again but Augere did not glance up. “Do we have a maid? Everything always seems so clean and polished all the time. I know it’s not me. And I didn’t think that you…”

“I have a maid.” Augere glanced up at him briefly and then lowered his gaze. “She looks after me.”

“Oh. Well, I’ve never even seen her.”

“She is here twice a week. Early mornings. The flowers arrive on those days. She divides the flowers…I did not think to provide you—”

“Oh, no, it’s fine, really. I pretty much do everything for myself.” Damn. That came out all wrong. Jason regretted the words too late. What did his choice of words imply about Augere?

“Sorry. I didn’t mean anything by that. I thought maybe you just sent your laundry out, or something.”

“I am rather lazy. But I am not…” Augere seemed to be searching for the right word or phrase. “…high…maintenance.”

Jason laughed gently. “My mother thinks all guys are high maintenance. I’m just surprised it took me so long to figure it out about the maid. I’ve always thought I was very observant and somehow I missed something so obvious.”

Augere was studying him with a wary look. Jason caught the fleeting, pained expression on his face, and although he had become so attentive to Augere’s every gesture and expression that anything not seen before was immediately noted and analyzed he didn’t quite know what to make of Augere’s response.

“Well, at least if I do see her now, I can introduce myself.”

“She only speaks Portuguese.”

“Oh. I see…and you speak…Portuguese?”

“Yes.”

“Well, anyway, that clears up that mystery.”

Augere nodded.

The end of the week found them together in the library again, discussing material from Jason’s class. “We discussed several categories related to outcasts as portrayed in literature and then in movies,” Jason began. “One category was: ‘they were never like us.’ Some examples were: Quasimodo, the human gargoyle who was feared and taunted because of his grotesque appearance; and the Elephant Man, ostracized, exploited and mistreated because of his outward appearance. Society was unable or unwilling to see any humanity beneath their exterior; but their conditions were something they couldn’t help; they were born that way. Yet society judged them harshly.” He paused, observed Augere’s solemn expression and then continued.

“Another category was: ‘they were like us once but not anymore.’ The case could be made for Frankenstein’s monster; derived from human parts, but still not like us. Other examples were The Mummy: once human, until a curse gave him immortality and forever changed him; he still has human emotions: revenge; mourning a lost love. But he is forever cut off from the rest of society. A tragic figure really.” Jason took a sip of his hot tea, and glanced up from his notes. Augere was gazing into the fireplace that wasn’t lit but seemed to be holding his attention. “And then there is the example of Brundlefly with Jeff Goldblum in the remake of The Fly. We discussed the scene when he has begun to change and his girlfriend comes to visit…” Jason paused again to look up from his notes to see if Augere could acknowledge familiarity with that particular scene. Augere nodded hesitantly.

“Brundlefly has just regurgitated onto some donuts so he will be able to eat and digest them; he does so unconsciously, a natural thing for him now as it is part of his new nature. Then he looks up to see the look of horror on his girlfriend’s face. He still has enough humanity left to be able to acknowledge her response and to say “I’m sorry—that is disgusting isn’t it?” but not enough humanity left in him to do anything about it. This is what he has become now. He has already irreversibly changed.” Jason looked up again to get Augere’s response.

Augere’s face looked uncharacteristically tense; his jaw was clenched; he was gazing vacantly toward the French doors across the room now, a past sign Jason had witnessed only a few times before. He had soon learned to interpret this not only as a negative response, but generally also as a precursor of Augere’s imminent withdrawal. Augere made no sign he would leave but he seemed quietly upset.

“It is a very disturbing part of the movie, of course. Well, I mean it does get worse though.” Perhaps the film’s imagery had been an unwelcome thought to Augere.

Jason sat quietly. He didn’t understand Augere’s silence. Nor his cold expression. What had he said that could have upset him so much? He and Augere had discussed a lot of movies before that were more intense. This seemed almost personal. He wasn’t sure what to do now.

“Continue.” Augere spoke the word so softly, it was almost a whisper.

Jason was hesitant to go on, but he did as Augere asked. “Another category was: ‘they look just like us, but they are monsters who prey on humans.’ These would be the many different portrayals of serial killers; the guy who lives next door and seems to blend in with the general populace. Norman Bates could fit that category. Any of the Alien creatures, taking up residence in the human host: the outer presentation is still human but an alien presence has taken over. Invasion of the Body Snatchers; The Thing. And of course some of the modern versions of vampires; those who blend in all too well in society. Existing undetected among humans, and preying on them.” Jason paused for another sip of tea. “It would be great to view these films within the context of what was happening in society, popular culture and politics when these films came out. They are thought to be a reflection of what society as a whole was facing, if not a large portion of the population.”

Augere seemed even more quiet than usual. He made little if any eye contact, and did not appear to have much to say about any of those topics. Maybe I’ve just caught him on a bad day, Jason reasoned. Usually he was more enthusiastic about the subjects. Jason decided to let it pass. There would be more classes, other discussions to focus on. Maybe they could even come back to this one another time. Jason was curious to hear what Augere had to say about all of it. Clearly though it would not be today.

That weekend Jason found Augere in the library listening to various songs on a portable CD player. Augere, wearing headphones, nodded in his direction as Jason entered the library to return a book he had finished.

Jason perused the shelves, casually observing Augere listening to first one song and then another from a large stack of CDs. He was curious to learn what kinds of music Augere liked. From what Jason already knew, Augere had rather eclectic taste in many things.

Jason came and stood beside him. He heard himself rudely blurt out, “What are you listening to?” before he could catch himself.

Augere seemed unfazed at the bluntness and handed the headphones to Jason. Jason heard “even the best of us can find happiness in misery,” from a song by Fall Out Boy. He nodded and then handed the headphones back. He took a quick glance at the stack of CDs on the coffee table in front of Augere. He went back to selecting the books he wanted, while noting Augere select first one and then another CD to hear one or two songs from each. Jason came back to join him on the sofa.

“I couldn’t help noticing—have you thought about downloading all your favorites from all these different CDs, maybe loading them so you could access them on your phone? I mean, it would be a lot easier, don’t you think?”

Augere gave him a blank look. “I do not take your meaning.”

“Oh, yeah.” Jason nodded. “My dad says the same thing. He just got used to the CD player we got him years ago, and says he doesn’t want ‘one of those damn high tech phone or MP3 things.’ We figure we’ll get him into the 21st century one of these days. Actually, I just have a pretty basic phone myself. I don’t feel like I need one of those damn things either.” Jason laughed. “We should probably go slow with my dad…maybe get him an iPod or something. If those aren’t obsolete already.”

He got another blank look from Augere. “What is this thing you mention…what does it……how does it work?”

“iPods? Well, they are really small devices, and you can put around 4000 songs on even some of the small capacity ones. You can easily carry it around in your pocket. You could categorize the songs, line them up the way you want. Or just shuffle play them.”

The blank look returned.

Jason glanced through the stack of CDs. There was classical; modern cello music; music for tango; various modern rock from the ’60s through the ’90s and some newer stuff. Bob Dylan; Talking Heads; Rolling Stones; Zydeco and Cajun; early Beatles; Celtic music; lots of blues. Jason could hear newer stuff coming from the headphones: Big Data’s “Dangerous.” Yeah. Augere could probably use an iPod. Probably need to start with something basic.

“Can you purchase one of those things for me? This process,” he glanced at the stack of CDs, “is rather tedious.”

“Sure. Do you know what you might want? How much you want to spend? What size capacity? What other features—do you want the nano? Just trying to figure out how you are going to want to use the device.”

Again, he got only a blank look then a confused expression.

“Wait here a second. I’ll show you what I mean.”

Jason returned in a few minutes with a flyer from the Sunday Globe that showed different sizes, colors, etc. of iPod along with various other devices. Augere looked at the images and seemed to be studying them. But then he looked at Jason with a blank expression again.

“Maybe you should come to the store with me. That way you can look them over, try some of them out. See what appeals to you. Okay?” Augere nodded hesitantly.

“Okay. I’ll look around to find a good sale first.”

After the next cinema class, Jason returned home with class notes to share with Augere. He hoped it would go better this time. They had discussed how early black and white films had used shadow and light not only to cast mood and ambience, but to help reveal character as well. Some of these techniques were precursors to film noir, horror films and psychological thrillers. Jason had been able to get re-mastered DVDs from the school library and brought them home so he and Augere could watch them. They had watched M and the Cabinet of Dr. Caligari. Jason tried to hide his disappointment that Augere had declined to watch Svengali and Nosferatu with him. Jason would have thought Augere would especially have liked those, and they were two of the better examples of what the class discussion was about. But Augere shook his head in stubborn refusal without explanation.

They had made plans to go to the North Shore Mall in Peabody on a Tuesday morning. The shopping excursion would not interfere with Jason’s class and the mall should be less crowded then. They arrived shortly after the mall opened.

Jason felt casually but resplendently gothic in his black attire with a T-shirt that had tattered silvery angel wings across the back—he called it his fallen angel shirt—while the front had some random French phrases in silver lettering. He wore one leather band and a silver chain on one wrist and his favorite black jeans, black boots. Augere managed to nearly out-do him today however. He was elegantly dressed in a black velvet blazer, a black T-shirt with a small silver and purple fleur de lis pattern on the front, slim black jeans, black boots and his requisite black and silver jewelry on both wrists, managing a gothic look effortlessly. Jason thought how appropriate they might appear going out to a club dressed as they were. He just knew Augere got the whole gothic vibe, even if it was never expressed in so many words. It made Jason feel they had a bond.

They maintained a slow amble as they walked through the mall, Augere forgoing his usual brisk pace so he could have a look around. He seemed to be taking everything in, wandering wherever his curiosity led him. He randomly entered a few stores, taking a brief look around in each.

Jason hung back a little, not only to give him space, but to observe how he reacted to others, and more importantly, to see how others reacted to him.

They had not been out in public together all that much and Jason was curious: did others take particular notice of Augere? Did he stand out to them; did they sense something strange and unusual, compelling even, as Jason himself so often did? Jason sometimes felt on the verge of defining what that something different was about Augere, but then, as always, whatever it was remained elusive.

It is like the answer is right there, Jason thought, keeping a slow pace behind him, but I just can’t seem to see it. Like when one stands much too close to an object, it can become a meaningless blur. Jason recalled seeing some of Monet’s masterpieces in a special exhibit at the Boston Museum of Art. He had been able to get so close to some of the paintings of Giverny he could have reached out and touched them. That close, they were just large blobs of paint seemingly placed at random. It wasn’t until you stepped back far enough that the image became clearer and made sense. Jason was just not able to step back far enough to gain that perspective on Augere. Today, by observing others’ reactions, he hoped to test reality a little, and in a sense see Augere through their eyes.

From his reactions, it seemed to Jason as if it had been a long while—if ever—that Augere had been in a mall such as this.

Augere wandered into Build-A-Bear, and watched as a small group of children selected a new stuffed friend, complete with accoutrements. It really said something, Jason thought, that these young kids could turn their gaze away from their new monkey or puppy to stare at Augere as long as they did. It was a little unnerving. Augere wandered into an Armani shop and looked over the goods. He gazed in the windows of Au Bon Pain, a favorite of Jason’s, pausing at the display of mouthwatering delights available, but did not venture inside. Jason had eaten breakfast, but was not able to resist buying a treat then.

Augere wandered into Bath and Body Works, with Jason close behind; they lingered, sampling many different fragrances. Augere didn’t seem to care that many of the items appealed mostly to women; he seemed to be having a good time, enjoying the various scents. They went into Barnes & Noble and split up for a while there, each browsing their preferred tastes and selecting books and magazines to purchase. The leather goods in Coach caught Augere’s attention next, and then a Halloween chocolate display in the Godiva store window; Jason had to buy truffles there. “I’ll gain several pounds before we leave here today.” Jason laughed. They wandered into Spencer gifts and Toys R Us; Augere seemed fascinated with the variety of toys and humorous items, and everywhere, Augere drew lingering glances. And not just from every age of female; men discreetly stole glances at him also. Augere could really turn heads, and the gazes often followed him, sometimes staring in his direction even after he had passed out of sight, Jason observed, falling back to continue to watch people’s reactions. Women stopped in the midst of conversations to stare at him openly. I knew it, Jason thought. It is not just me.

Finally it was time to go to the electronics store.

They looked over some items in the display case. The store clerk allowed Augere to listen to one iPod with headphones. Augere was impressed with the sound, but he turned the small thin device over in his hands, dubious of its ability to hold 4000 songs.

Finally, he settled on one he wanted. A simple model. He instructed Jason to select one also and he would pay for it. Jason protested he could buy his own, but he lost that battle and they each left the store with their new devices.

It was still just noon and the mall wasn’t too crowded, except for the lunch crowd at the food court.

“Shall we stay a while longer? Or are you ready to leave?”

Augere did not answer right away. He seemed to be focused on something at a distance. Jason tried to take a discreet glance, but couldn’t determine the source of his interest.

“We should stay a while,” Augere replied.

“Do you want to have lunch—?” Jason frowned as he realized he already knew the answer. Well, maybe today Augere actually would eat something. Maybe today would be different.

Augere turned to look at him with a solemn expression, which Jason interpreted as “no.”

“Seriously? Nothing? Not one thing?”

Augere shook his head.

“Okay, then,” Jason sighed. “I am going to get lunch. Do you mind waiting here, watching my bags, while I get something to eat?”

Augere appeared distracted. He nodded absently, as he sat down at one of the tables in the food court, the farthest table from anyone else while Jason walked around the food court trying to make a decision from all of the different choices.

He returned in ten minutes with a large Coke for Augere, as well as a tray of mostly healthy items for himself.

“Here you go,” Jason said, placing the extra-large Coke cup with a straw in it in front of Augere. “I know you drink Coke at least.”

Augere eyed the enormous cup with the plastic item stuck in the top of the lid with a look of dismay. Then he turned that look on Jason.

“Or I could just get you a cup of ice if you want?” Jason said, noting his expression.

Augere shook his head. Then his attention turned elsewhere. Whatever he was looking at, he was now intensely focused. It would be too obvious if Jason turned around to look now. But he was very curious. Everything Augere did, or did not do, remained a curiosity and subject of interest to him. It is probably just the fact of him being here, Jason thought. Just him taking all of this in. Worldly in many ways, and yet, not.

As Augere’s attention remained preoccupied elsewhere Jason enjoyed a large salad, but then finished with a big slice of apple pie and a large root beer. He didn’t feel that great when he was done. Fast food always looks good, until I actually eat it. Time to walk around some more.

“Are you still good? Shall we have another look around?”

Augere nodded with a thoughtful expression.

They walked with no particular destination. Augere seemed a little less interested in the shops now. After a while they came to a set of benches, park type metal ones, three of them placed end to end in the center of the mall’s corridor, with three opposite benches on the other side, all facing out to the stores on both sides and the shoppers who passed by. They had been walking around for at least half an hour. Jason would have liked to sit for a while but didn’t want to say so.

“I believe we should sit here a while.”

Jason nodded with surprise. They each sat at one end of a separate bench and passersby would not think they were there together. Jason had become used to Augere’s need for a little extra personal space and he no longer gave it any thought; he just automatically accommodated him.

They had been sitting for about five minutes or so when a trio of young girls came and sat down on the bench adjacent to the ones occupied by them. One of the girls actually sat down right next to Augere, separated from him only by the metal armrest. Jason expected him to rise and leave; or at the least, to shift uncomfortably. But he did not. He remained calm and composed Jason noted with some interest. Jason only had a sidelong view of the girls. They appeared to be no more than eleven or twelve, he would guess. Each of them had several small bags with different store logos from their shopping excursion. The girl at the farthest end from where Augere sat was slurping a blue icee; the girl in the middle was eating a small dish of neon pink ice cream with a small plastic spoon, and the girl closest to Augere, mere inches from him in fact, was taking shy glances at him.

“You look like one of my favorite vampires,” she said to Augere almost in a whisper. “I mean, the way I think he would look. From this book I am reading.”

Jason thought he seemed to tense slightly and then he turned his full attention to her. Her straight dark hair had a lustrous sheen and fell well past her shoulders. Her large blue green eyes were facing Jason but were fixed on Augere’s face, and her otherwise pale complexion seemed slightly flushed. She had a sweetly innocent expression.

“What is the book called?” he asked her. Jason was able to hear his soft nearly seductive intonation clearly.

“Truly Vampire,” she answered.

“Ah,” he said to her. “And you enjoy reading this?”

“Yeah, it’s really good. No one else I know reads the kind of stuff I like.” Her gaze flickered briefly to her two companions, then quickly returned to Augere’s face and stayed strictly focused on him. He studied her intently as well. Silence stretched for several moments.

“All of his kind are horrible, are they not?”

She tilted her head slightly, her gaze still fixed on his face. “Well…he—this character—can be really mean, sometimes. But it is not always his fault. Do you know what I mean?”

“I believe I do,” Augere replied. “Does he frighten you?”

“Yeah. Sometimes. There are some scary parts.” She seemed to be giving the question more thought. Jason sensed a maturity about her, lacking in the demeanor of her companions. He casually listened in now and then while gazing elsewhere. “Sometimes,” she said, “he keeps bad things from happening though. I like that about him.” Her eyes were locked onto Augere’s face.

“You think him dangerous though.”

“I guess you could say that.” She shrugged. “He could be. He is…complicated. But then, he is SO hot.”

Augere turned an inquisitive face to Jason. “Attractive. Desirable,” Jason supplied, feeling a little less ignored.

“I see. So, that makes it okay.” He gave her a faint smile.

She laughed, but then her face became quite serious. “You have to overlook certain things with him. You have to accept him as he is.”

More silence opened between them. Jason could only see Augere’s expression in profile.

“What is your name?” she asked him.

His attention was fully upon her. “Laurent.”

“That’s a French name, isn’t it?”

He nodded once.

“I’m going to be studying French next year. I already know a few words.”

“Excellent.” Augere gave her a small smile.

“And what is your name?” he asked her.

“Raven.”

“Ah…tu est la plus belle corbeau que j’ai vu jamais.”

“That is so cool.” She smiled at him. She probably didn’t understand a word of it.

Augere then made another comment Jason did not hear.

“Uhm…” Jason leaned out from the bench, the better to see the other girls. “How come you girls aren’t in school today?”

The girl in the middle paused from licking the back of her ice cream covered spoon just long enough to say: “teacher’s conference,” as if it should have been obvious.

“Yes. So Riley’s mom brought me and Casey to the mall to have a girls day out,” Raven stated. “My mom thought it would be a good idea for me. For us,” she corrected herself self-consciously. The implication seemed to be coming to the mall was not entirely Raven’s choice or idea.

Augere was still studying her intently. He seemed oblivious to the other two.

Jason’s attention wavered. He couldn’t hear all that was said now; only a few words or a fragment of a sentence. Harmless stuff he supposed. Augere was humoring her.

“Where did you get all of these?” Augere asked, as he lightly touched the various bracelets she wore on both wrists.

Raven looked at and touched several of them also. She wore beaded ones; leather, fabric, rubber and plastic varieties. Of course, Jason thought, bracelets were something Augere would notice. Augere’s slender fingers lingered lightly on her wrist.

Jason glanced around nervously. It was one thing for two guys in their twenties to be talking to adolescent girls—and not a good thing either, he thought, even in this most public of places—but touching them was definitely off limits. Even if the most casual observer would think nothing of it, and Jason thought Augere’s gesture quite harmless, some others might not view it that way. It was better not to be taking any chances. Jason was about to make a sign to warn Augere when he spotted a “Mom” waving at the girls—they waved back—from the window of the card shop just opposite where they were sitting. Good, he thought, parental supervision. Hopefully this parent wouldn’t freak out. If she had even noticed.

“These,” Raven pointed at several different bracelets, “I make myself.” She looked into his eyes. “Do you want me to make some for you?”

“You…would do that for me?”

“Of course. Wait—I know. I will give you these ones. I can always make more for myself.” She unfastened the two braided black leather ones that were the most appropriate for him, the ones he had admired, and then she stood facing him.

She fastened the two wristbands onto his thin outstretched wrist. Jason observed how close she stood to him, and how comfortable he seemed with that. It surprised him.

“Your hand is cold…but then I expected that,” she stated solemnly in a low voice. Their eyes were locked onto each other again. Both of them seemed reluctant to look away. Something passed between them, but whatever it was, Jason still thought it seemed harmless enough. Given her apparent age and Augere’s strange childlike worldliness, it could only be an innocent flirtation, at most. Raven sat down again, their mutual, silent gazing interrupted finally.

“What did you buy?” she asked, noticing two white plastic bags sitting beside him.

“A book. And…Eye…pod…thing,” he stated hesitantly.

“Great! What color?” she asked.

“Silver.”

“That’s really cool. I’m getting either a blue one or a purple one for my birthday next month.”

“An October birthday? Mine also.”

“Really? What day is yours?”

“3rd of October.”

“Mine is October 26.”

“It is not polite to ask a young woman her age…”

“I know.” She nodded solemnly, suddenly appearing worldly wise.

Augere glanced away for a moment and Jason caught his transient smile.

“How old are you going to be?” she asked him pointedly, her expression quite serious.

“How old would you guess?” he asked after a few moments. There was just a hint of humor in his eyes now.

Her blue green eyes stared unwaveringly into his violet blue ones. Both her expression and her concentration were intense.

“I think…you have lived a very, very long time,” she said softly.

Jason had to suppress a laugh.

Augere broke his gaze then and looked down at his hands. He leaned back slightly. It was as close to any sign of discomfort he had shown yet and still it was minimal.

“I will be twelve,” she said. “In three and a half weeks.”

There were several comments between them then that Jason didn’t catch. He strained to hear more, but only caught something Augere said about “being different.” The girl seemed to take on a sad, almost tearful expression.

Their strange encounter might have continued longer if the mom had not emerged from the card shop just then.

She came striding quickly toward them, smiling at the girls, and casting a friendly glance and a smile at Jason. She gave Augere a wary, intense look, for several moments. Jason caught it and thought it rather odd. Maybe she had witnessed the strange encounter between the two. Augere made no eye contact and appeared to take no notice of her.

“Come on, girls,” she said brightly. “I want to get going before the traffic gets wicked.”

They stood up to go, collecting their purchases. Raven moved slower and more reluctantly than the others. She bent down suddenly to tie her shoe, and took her time about it.

When she stood up, Augere said to her, “May I take your hand, Raven?”

She shyly extended her left hand to him.

Very slowly and carefully he took hold of just her fingertips, holding them as lightly and gently as if they were extremely delicate and fragile, as if they could break from mere touch. He leaned forward slightly and brought her fingertips to his lips and then lightly kissed the back of her hand as gently as if it were a rose petal. It amused Jason. He has some smooth moves, I’ll give him that.

Her eyes widened slightly for just a moment as his lips came into contact with her skin and a strange expression came over her face: a mixture of fear, surprise, wonder—and something else…a look of recognition, a brief nod, and then a small smile of contentment. Jason watched this exchange, fascinated at the range of expressions she had shown at the brief contact. Of course a young girl like this was bound to be overly impressed with such interest and flattery. Jason had witnessed Augere’s effect on total strangers for a just a short while now, and this no longer seemed all that unusual.

“Je te remercie pour ton chouette cadeau,” he said and then released her hand, gazing steadily into her eyes. She sighed heavily.

“Goodbye, vampire Laurent,” she said solemnly as they all turned to leave, her eyes lingering on his face.

He nodded. “Au revoir, Raven.”

“Honestly, you girls and those creepy books you read. Vampires.” The mom shuddered and then laughed nervously, her forehead creasing as she cast a quick suspicious glance at Augere. Then she herded the girls toward the mall exit and Jason and Augere watched them depart.

Once they were gone, Jason turned to Augere. “Just six more years and you’ll be able to date her. I think she was ready to give you her number.”

Augere gave him a wistful look. “Ah…but I would certainly be too old for her by then.” There was just the briefest hint of a smile at the corners of his mouth.

“Well, I certainly didn’t have a chance. They all ignored me.” Jason sighed. “I used to get a little attention at least. I can see now hanging out with you is really going to cramp my style.” His expression was one of mock dismay.

“Your pardon?”

“Devastating good looks, money, personal charm”—Jason shook his head—“those will only take you so far, sir. And then it will be my turn.” Jason had to force a serious expression as he spoke.

“You believe me to have unfair advantage, then?” Augere asked seriously.

“Well, so far, only in the eleven- to twelve-year-old age category,” Jason said solemnly. “I still hold out some hope.”

Augere laughed, that all too rare and delightful sound. He seemed to be in a good mood still. His eyes shone with their amazing tanzanite brilliance.

“Are you doing okay?” Jason smiled at him. “Shall we leave, or do you want to stay?” he offered.

“What did you have in mind?”

“Well, I can take you to some stores that have some interesting threads; Hot Topic might be of some interest to you, for one. Get in Gear, and Hot Shop for Men are some others.”

“Yes,” Augere replied. “Show me.”

Chapter 9

Raven Winter’s Journal

She had named her journal Snark because she liked the sound of the word. She had written several volumes now, nearly one a year since she had begun writing in them at the age of nine.

Her thoughts, literal dreams as well as flights of imagination, her hopes and fears and the day to day things, including her endless lists: “things I like/things I don’t like” found their way into her journals.

The journals had been her mom’s idea. Both of her parents were actually pretty cool, she readily admitted, about a lot of things. But she could not imagine them being cool about this.

My dear Snark, she began, you are the only one I can share any of this with…

Mom and Dad have always said if my “talents,” as they call them, ever scare or bother me, I should come to them and tell them. I’ve certainly heard Mom say it enough. And she is always reminding me it is okay to discuss things like my special abilities at home, in private, but that strangers were likely to freak out if I told them. Like I hadn’t already figured that out for myself. Do not share with strangers. Ever. I got it.

Well, of course I wouldn’t. It even took Mom and Dad a while to figure all this out and to even begin to understand it: how I somehow knew where lost things were; how I knew things I couldn’t or shouldn’t be able to know. Even before I could talk, they said I could point to where a missing object could be found, in places I could never reach or even think of to look. They just accepted things like that after a while.

And now what I have to tell you, Snark, will utterly amaze you. This is what happened at the mall today. The mall, of all places!

Even writing about it now still makes me feel kind of weird. And I am sort of afraid, just a little…but excited, sad, happy and nervous too…all at the same time.

Not afraid for myself though, not really, unless Mom and Dad found out and started to think I was crazy. I don’t want Mom and Dad to think that. And I don’t want to be crazy. Like that girl who had to leave school right in the middle of our English Composition class last year…she really just flipped out. So what I have to tell you absolutely has to stay between you and me, Snark.

I was at the mall because it was Mom’s and Riley’s Mom’s idea that we have a girl’s day out. Casey was there too. Mom wanted me to feel more included in things; to feel more normal.

“You are normal Raven,” she had said. “But it would be good for you to get out more socially and spend time with girls your age. Everyone needs friends they can hang out with.” So I agreed to go, for Mom’s sake.

Riley and Casey are okay I guess. Not as bad as some of the girls at school. Like the ones who used to pick on me before I learned not to share my knowing about weird things that could freak people out. I never have much in common with kids my age to start with. Even before Mom and Dad and I had the talk about keeping my talent stuff quiet, I always felt different from everybody. Like I kind of just knew some of what I felt and experienced and thought wasn’t exactly normal, at least not to other people. I never really explained a lot of this to you before, Snark, because I was never able to figure out how to say it before.

Riley and Casey don’t know of course. I bet they wouldn’t want to be friends if they did know. But they aren’t really my friends anyway. I guess they are still okay to hang out with. Sometimes.

We were walking around the mall when I first saw him. He was at some distance from us but something was drawing my attention to him. I don’t know what exactly; I think maybe the way he moved. I do know when something pulls my attention so strongly it is something I am meant to pay attention to.

I kept wanting to keep my eyes on him. To try to figure out why I wanted to keep looking at him. When he started walking toward us I kept staring at him. He didn’t look at me. I didn’t get a good look at his face then. Not yet.

I really wish I could describe how he looked: the clothes he wore, his hair and his face. I saw all the surface things, and he was just beautiful to look at…but something more had my attention. Something harder to see or to figure out. I can’t describe him as clearly as I saw him. I wasn’t understanding what I saw. Not at first.

We were standing in front of a store window looking at shoes. He came nearer and I became even more focused on him. It wasn’t cold in the mall, but as he passed by my whole body shivered.

I didn’t suspect it then. I had no idea of the truth. How could I even imagine it?

He was walking with another guy. Both of them had longish dark hair. They were both dressed in black mostly but only the one seemed more like someone you would consider goth. They were similar and yet different in ways I couldn’t explain. Both of them looked like they could be in their twenties and both were really HOT to look at. I knew they were too old for me but I just didn’t care. I could still look!

I remember wondering if I was just having one of my “instant crushes.” That excited rush of feelings for a beautiful stranger and having an intense nearly aching sense of longing, passion and desire; an entire love affair experienced in those few moments before the beloved disappears forever out of view. He was definitely that hot, Snark. Well, both of them were! Yep, I remember thinking, it could be that. They were too old for me but I didn’t care.

Riley and Casey wanted to go to the earring place, so of course I had to go too. I felt sad at having to walk away before I figured out the mysterious stranger. And he was still in view. I couldn’t say anything of course, but I was upset. I just wanted to look at him for as long as I could.

We each got something at the earring place and then we went to Toys R Us because Casey wanted to. She is kind of childish. It was boring but then we went to Bath and Body Works to sample some of the wonderful smells and stuff there. As we walked around the store and tried different things—I loved the frangipani, Snark!—I looked up and I was totally surprised to see him at the other end of the store. He had his back to me but as I got closer he turned suddenly in my direction. It scared me a little, like he knew I was there before he even saw me.

We kind of looked at each other quickly as we passed and I wanted to see his eyes but I wasn’t quick enough to get a good look. He had his head down, looking at something. I remember thinking his skin was so pale, silvery white almost, but quite beautiful. So smooth looking. A strange thing to notice. And I caught a scent as I passed him: a woodsy earthy scent that reminded me of something that made me really happy , though I don’t know what; a wonderful, beautiful scent that made me want to breathe deeply as I passed him. When he had moved to the other end of the store, I went back to try to find that same fragrance but nothing right there even came close. I think it might have been him. When I looked around the store again, he was gone. I started to think maybe it wasn’t an accident I had seen him there.

Each of us bought something before we left the store—I bought rose scented skin lotion; the frangipani was too expensive. Then Riley asked her mom if we could get ice cream and she said okay but we had to eat lunch first. So we went to the food court.

We got to pick out whatever we wanted, but I only wanted a bottle of water. My stomach was too fluttery to eat. I would rather be walking around more trying to see that stranger again. Riley’s mom said I had to eat something because we are growing girls and we need good nutrition so I just got a salad and I started picking at it, pretending to eat. I was really impatient and wanted to be walking around again. I started to worry he might have left the mall by now, and I would never see him again. I felt sad, like I had lost somebody important to me. It was really weird to think that.

And then I remember just looking around and suddenly there he was, a couple of tables away. The guy who was with him was eating, but he didn’t seem to be. And he was looking right at me. I couldn’t see his eyes that well at such a distance, but we were staring at each other. We were communicating, not with words, or images or ideas but something was happening between us. I was nervous and fascinated and I was glad other people were around me then. Something very strong and powerful was there and it had my attention and I didn’t understand it. I was afraid but not afraid enough to stop looking at him.

We got up to leave the food court and I wanted to keep looking in his direction but I couldn’t do it. I think maybe I wanted to see if he would follow us. I was afraid he wouldn’t. But I was also afraid he would. I wasn’t sure if I wanted him to or not.

We stopped to freshen up at the restroom. I waited outside for the others and suddenly he was there. He walked slowly past me and even though he was not looking at me I felt he was seeing me. He passed by so closely I felt shaky and I had to catch my breath. I couldn’t look at his eyes but I wanted to. I felt weak and nervous suddenly like nothing I have ever felt before except when I almost fainted that one time—it kind of felt like that.

Once he was out of sight I felt normal again. Or as normal as I ever do.

I started to wonder if it was all me. That these weird abilities, or talents, or I don’t even know what to call them sometimes, just makes me see things differently than most people do, and makes me act in strange ways sometimes. When that happens I often wish I could just be normal like other people. So maybe nothing strange and mysterious was going on here. Just some guy. Some really, really great looking guy… No. I knew there was definitely something more happening.

We had to go to the Gap then because Riley needed to get a new outfit for some party with her family. Casey picked out two tops while we were there. Riley’s mom asked if I saw anything I liked, because she would buy it for me. Seriously? I said I really preferred to go to Hot Topic instead. So Riley’s mom, who is really pretty cool, said, okay, let’s go there.

I kept looking for him as we walked along. I worried again he had left the mall, or that the mall is so big it would be hard to find him. At Hot Topic, Riley and Casey seemed a little creeped out at the merchandise, but they each bought something to wear, even if it was just jewelry. I found a very cool Cheshire Cat design T-shirt that I bought with my own money and Riley’s mom bought me a black leather bracelet I admired from the clearance stuff. Then she let me pick out another shirt: a white one with a black rose dripping a few drops of blood. Casey and Riley just kind of stared at it and didn’t say anything. But I loved it.

As we were leaving HT I saw something in the window there that held my attention: it was the image of a vampire half hidden in shadows, standing under a full moon with a cemetery in view and bats flying around. You could only see part of the vampire’s pale face; the rest of him was hidden in shadows. It was a really cool shirt and I wanted to trade my Cheshire Cat for it, but it was too much money.

And then that image, and that word, stuck in my mind. As of course it would. Something like that would never creep me out. I have been reading vampire and horror stuff since I was a kid. And that is probably why I didn’t put it together right away. Because usually when a word or image draws my attention and stays there it is something I am meant to pay close attention to. But I always pay attention to that kind of stuff anyway. Vampires are just a part of my life. So it didn’t stand out as unusual right away.

There are real horrors in the world. Mom and Dad have warned me about always being very careful and especially being mindful in public places because there are serial killers who look for young girls to abduct. There is much more to fear from the real world than the world of my vampires and my imagination. I think I am suspicious of just about everyone anyway. I know to be careful. But vampires? No, I’m good.

We walked around some more, looking in shop windows. We had to stop at Aeropostale so Riley’s mom could buy something for herself and then we spent too long in Filene’s. By then I was getting kind of bored.

And then just as we were coming out of Filene’s I saw him at a distance. He had his back to me, talking to that guy he was with, and the word just popped into my mind: Vampire.

And then he turned and looked right at me. The look on his face scared me. He had a totally serious expression, one that looked a little worried even. I needed to take a long deep breath. And then I thought the word again: Vampire. And a cold shiver ran through my body. He was definitely staring at me. No doubt about that.

I couldn’t look at him after that. For a moment it totally freaked me out. It was crazy to look at him and to think that word. Because I wasn’t being at all funny. And the way he looked at me when I was thinking it was kind of a shock.

We were walking away in the opposite direction now. And suddenly I felt like there was no reason to be afraid. Vampire? Seriously? That word, and the very idea of it….being real. I admit that did scare me. But it was like I knew I didn’t have to be afraid of him. Well, of course not! Vampires aren’t real. As much as I might want some of them to be sometimes.

Suddenly, I wanted to look at him more. I wanted to get closer now. I wanted to talk to him, to see his eyes, to hear his voice. I wanted to know as much as I could about him.

We stopped again to look at some clothes in a store window. He was walking slowly behind us and he stopped too. We moved on and it seemed like he was following us. Then, somehow, he was ahead of us! He was still moving slowly, looking in store windows too and it seemed he was looking back to see if we were following. I am pretty sure Riley’s mom and the other two didn’t even notice.

Vampire. I looked in his direction. It was such a crazy idea.

We had stopped to look at the displays of Godiva chocolates but I was still staring at the spot where I had seen him last even though he was out of sight now. I must have been daydreaming like I do sometimes because then Riley’s mom was asking me if I was okay. And then all three of them were staring at me. I nodded and said sure I was okay.

We walked around some more and I didn’t see him anywhere. I kept thinking about him. I was wondering if it was true, if it could possibly be real. I was starting to make a joke of it in my mind—HA! I saw a real vampire!! At the mall!!! I was pretty sure the guy walking with him was not a vampire though. Not even sure how I knew that, but I did. I just had to know if it was really true, and not just my crazy overactive imagination like our creepy science teacher once told me I had.

“What?” I said, suddenly realizing someone was repeating my name.

Casey rolled her eyes at me. “I said, you probably want to go to the bookstore too, so you can check out all the new vampire books.”

I just looked at her and laughed. I couldn’t help it. If she only knew.

“And why is that so funny?” Casey asked. “You know you want to.” She looked kind of mad.

“I read other stuff too. Lots of other stuff.” I shrugged. “I’ll go if everyone else wants to go.”

“I think that’s a good idea,” Riley’s mom said. “You should each pick out a book.” So, we went. And I almost couldn’t believe it: he was in the bookstore! I thought maybe he had followed us, but then he was already there when we got there.

I looked at him—really looked at him then and I think I just knew. And it kind of took my breath away. It just couldn’t be.

Well, who needs to look at vampire books when you have the real thing standing right there? The books are for when you don’t have the real thing. But he and the other guy were moving toward the cashier now. I was in kind of a panic because I did not want him to leave.

But there was nothing I could do.

I impulsively selected a vampire book that looked like it could be worth it and said I was ready to go. Of course, none of the others were. I had to wait for them and it seemed like they were taking forever. I just wanted them to hurry up. He had left the store already and I stood near the door anxious to see which way he went. I was worried he was going to leave the mall now and he would be gone forever and I would never see him again and I would never know the truth for sure. Even though I was already pretty sure. Why did they have to take so long and look at so many books?

If I could find him again, if I could only get close enough, if I didn’t lose my nerve, I might be able to say something to him. Something? Like what? “Uhm, excuse me—but I was just wondering—are you a real vampire?” I thought how crazy that sounded. And what if I was wrong? What if he laughed at me? How embarrassing that would be, especially in front of Riley’s mom and the other two. They think I’m weird and crazy already.

But I couldn’t remember any feeling this strong before. I always trusted my feelings but I was having trouble trusting them this time. Something this unusual and amazing and unbelievable had never happened before. I’ve never felt more sure of anything. But I just needed to know the truth and be absolutely certain about this. I needed to know I could still trust my feelings, especially about something as strange as this.

We finally left the bookstore and Riley reminded her mom about getting the ice cream. I didn’t want anything. I was shaky and sad and upset. I couldn’t eat. After the others got what they wanted, we started to walk toward the mall entrance where we had come in. Time to go. I didn’t want to leave and I was lagging behind the others, still searching for him.

And then—I almost couldn’t believe it.

I spotted him at a distance ahead of us. He and the other guy were sitting on benches and we were going to have to walk right past him. I got nervous, excited, scared for a minute…I was trying to think of what I could do or say…I just needed to talk to him for a few minutes. I couldn’t think of a plan…the others would be right there, watching. It seemed pretty hopeless. Even if I just said hi as we went past… but what good would that do?

And the next second Riley’s mom said she needed to stop in the card shop, which was opposite the benches, and why didn’t we go and sit on those benches right there and wait for her.

I got to the benches first and I sat down right next to him. Then I began to feel more nervous and scared than ever and I began to feel a little more unsteady and it was hard to breathe. I have never had all that happen at the same time before. I just steadied my mind and kept my focus, and took several full breaths like I learned in Mom’s yoga class. Then I didn’t feel so weak. I think maybe just being next to him caused me to feel that way. I did feel a very powerful energy coming from him and it was having an effect on me, for sure.

I still can’t believe I said it—I just blurted it out and for a moment I felt like a total jerk— I told him he looked like my favorite vampire, the way I pictured him that is, from a book I was reading. Well, it was partially true. And he did not laugh at me. That made me feel better. He nodded with a serious expression. And we actually talked about vampires in books for a few minutes. I just kept looking into his eyes the whole time.

He asked me some questions. I am going to think of those and write all of them down later, Snark. He has the smoothest softest voice you can imagine. A voice that makes you focus on just his face and forget everything else around you.

I started babbling, but I didn’t care. I just wanted to keep talking to him. To keep him there. I was noticing everything about him….the strangely beautiful color of his eyes. They’re like some gemstone I have seen somewhere before but I don’t know the name of. And that scent again…kind of hard to describe, but a natural scent; almost like the way the earth and the air smells after it rains…it makes you feel good, happy. It made you want to be closer to him.

He told me his name is Laurent and he pronounced it the way a French person would. He spoke a few words of French to me and I told him my name…oh! I forgot to ask his last name!

Damn!

I kept thinking I needed to touch him, that it was important somehow. I knew it was a freaky thing but I had to because then I would know more things about him. Sometimes I can do that with objects or people, if I touch them. And I was thinking of how I could do that, and then he reached out and touched my wrist and was admiring my bracelets.

He said how much he liked them. I said I could make some for him if he wanted, but then I did a stupid thing and I just gave him some of mine. If I had just said I’d make him some that might have been an excuse to see him again.

He seemed very surprised I would just give him some of mine or offer to make some for him.

And when he touched my wrist, and I touched his hand—it was all just so clear. It almost knocked me over. I did feel myself sway a little. I still kept thinking it couldn’t be true…but I saw his life… so many years and so many people…a lot of sadness…so much…it almost made me cry but then there were joyful things too and peace sometimes… though it never lasted long for him. I saw places he has been, things he has done and all of it was just rushing past… it was like he opened a door to himself and I could see him, really see him. But then he saw me too. I knew what he saw, and how unhappy I was sometimes and it made me a little embarrassed. And much of it had to do with this crazy ability I have never asked for and never wanted.

He said to me: “I know how difficult it is to be so different from everyone else. To view the world in such a different way and still have to be a part of it.”

And I knew he really did understand and I did not want to cry in front of him and the others even though they really weren’t even paying attention to us. In a way though I did want to cry, for both of us. I felt very close to him.

I found out our birthdays are in the same month! His is October 3. He would not tell me how old he will be. I could not tell his age exactly, but I do know he has lived a very, very long time.

I tried to keep him there, asking him what things he bought in the mall, just saying anything to keep talking to him as long as I could.

Then Riley’s mom came out of the card shop and it was time to go. I didn’t want to leave. I was taking my time. I bent down then, pretending to tie my Skecher because I had spotted something on the floor near where he was sitting. It was a small silvery charm and it looked kind of old to me.

I picked it up thinking it might belong to him. If I held it I might learn more about him. I believed I knew the truth about him now, but my mind still wasn’t accepting it totally. I think I was still looking for more proof.

But I didn’t have time to get any thoughts or feelings from holding the object because then he asked if he could take my hand. I got a little scared thinking maybe he knew I had picked it up and I was afraid he would be angry I tried to hide it. I kept it in my right hand and he took hold of my left. And then he kissed my hand and spoke some French words to me again. I was so happy I even forgot I was still holding the charm tightly in my other hand and I didn’t realize it until later when we were in the car.

I didn’t mean to hide it and take it. Then again, if it is his, I am very glad to have it!

And when he kissed my hand that was when he told me.

Truly. Vampire. He did not say it in those exact words. But I heard it just as clearly as if he had spoken them. He was still sitting on the bench and I was standing next to him then. He looked into my eyes and then he nodded.

“I know you know the truth. And I know you can be trusted to tell no one.” I heard those words in my mind. I nodded my head. He told me he thought we would meet again. I wanted to believe it.

I felt a little bolder now. When I said goodbye I called him Vampire Laurent because I knew it was okay to tell him in actual words that I knew and accepted the truth. Even if the others heard me, it wouldn’t matter. They wouldn’t know what I knew. He nodded.

Then it was time to go. As we walked to the mall exit I was thinking how strange it was that he just happened to be there. And how it happened I had gotten a chance to talk to him and confirm the truth.

I looked back at him as we reached the exit, and I was thinking as I looked at him: Did you make Riley’s mom go into that card shop so we could talk for a few minutes? And he turned to look at me then. Even from the distance I could see him smile just a little.

After we were driving for a while, and we had stopped at a red light I asked Riley’s mom if she found what she needed at the card shop. I didn’t see her come out with a purchase from there.

She looked at me in the rearview mirror with a confused expression.

“No…. I think I just wanted to go in and have a look around. I didn’t really need anything.”

I leaned back in the seat as I nodded, thinking about that.

I realized then I was still holding that charm in my hand. I believe it is his, and maybe I was meant to find it and to hold onto it for some reason.

****

After Raven finished writing the entry into her journal, she read it all over again, and then slowly read it once more, satisfied with what she had written. Then she carefully ripped out those pages. She held these over the flame of a white pillar candle on her desk. When the pages caught fire, she placed them into a large glass bowl that had been intended as a future terrarium project and watched as the pages curled into smoke and then fell into ash.

Chapter 10

Montreal

Augere was disappointed there was no train service between Boston and Montreal. “There should be,” he stated with more than a hint of irritation.

He had already purchased two tickets for a special art exhibit at the Museum of Fine Arts in Montreal. Now Jason was instructed to make flight arrangements and to reserve two junior suites at a hotel within easy walking distance of the museum. Augere had specific requests regarding air travel: he wanted to pay extra to have an empty seat beside him. He really takes this personal space thing very seriously, Jason thought. Maybe he just wants to distance himself from the hired help. Jason frowned, though he doubted that was the case. When he had completed making the arrangements, he was to contact Genier and give him the travel details.

“Mr. Augere tells me he went to a large marketplace where there were a lot of stores selling a variety of things. Where was this?” Genier’s tone was one of surprised curiosity when Jason called him about the travel arrangements.

“We went to the mall in Peabody, one of the largest in this area. He seemed to have a good time there.”

“He went to…the mall?” Genier laughed. “I don’t know how you managed to get him to go there.”

“Well, he wanted to buy an iPod.”

“Wait—he—what? He told you that?”

“Well, I was the one who suggested he should get one. And he has been walking around with it a lot lately. I loaded it with some of the music he likes.”

“It seems you really are a positive influence. Things are going well, then?”

“Very good, yes. He wants me to run some travel plans by you.” Jason provided the flight numbers, hotel information and general itinerary.

“It sounds good to me. I know this is your first time traveling with him, but don’t worry; it should go well. It’s a short trip. Don’t forget your passports.”

“I suggested to him I could drive us there, but he said no. He had wanted to take the train.”

“Yes. The car becomes a problem once you arrive. The plane will be quicker anyway. Call me if there are any concerns. I hope you enjoy yourselves.”

Jason was excited about this trip. He had only been to Canada once before, to a paranormal conference in Toronto. He expected he would like Montreal, with its French ambience and European influences, and just as cosmopolitan as Toronto.

Customs clearance and taxi to the hotel went smoothly. Jason was impressed with the hotel accommodations and with the fact he had the same type of room as Augere. He was informed he had the evening free and that Augere would meet him in the lobby in the morning.

Jason wandered along St. Catherine Street; he browsed in bookstores, gazed into store windows; took photos. He enjoyed the underground city of stores, cinemas, and services underneath the city of Montreal. He walked until he realized he was exhausted and then found a restaurant to have dinner. He splurged on an expensive wine to go with his excellent meal. He wished he had someone to share it with. He decided on a movie afterward and then went back to the hotel. He had been caught up in the idea of going to Montreal but he had not done research on what to see and do there. He had the rest of the day tomorrow, after the exhibit, to see as much as he could. He decided he would just wing it.

He had breakfast at the hotel, hoping to see Augere early. He appeared in the lobby at the appointed time, and found Augere seated nearby with tea service set up on a table beside him. Everything looked so good to Jason and most of it seemed untouched. It made Jason hungry again. Then he wondered if he had been expected to meet him here for breakfast; That hadn’t been clear.

“Hi,” Jason said to him. “I don’t want to disturb you; take your time with breakfast.”

Augere shook his head. “There is more than enough. Take what you will.”

Travel and the excitement of a new city must have given him a greater appetite. Jason poured himself a cup of Earl Grey and then scooped rose jam onto a small soft croissant. The jam was decadently good. Several savory looking Danishes tempted him as well. No sense in those going to waste, Jason thought, biting into a soft fresh cheese Danish as he eyed two different kinds of scones. How could Augere possibly resist any of it?

Augere was glancing through a French newspaper. Jason hadn’t yet seen him read a newspaper, ever. Another new thing to take note of? Then again, this newspaper was in French so that probably made a difference to Augere.

They lingered for another fifteen minutes or so, and then it was time to leave for the Museum. It was just a short walk and the first thing Jason noticed as they approached was the huge banner over the Museum entrance: J.W. Waterhouse: the Garden of Enchantment and the famous Lady of Shalott as a giant mural hung over the door. Jason loved the paintings of Waterhouse. He hadn’t even thought to ask what exhibit they would be seeing; it didn’t matter since he was excited enough just going. This was a huge and pleasant surprise. He was already beginning to appreciate the chance to attend.

They waited only a short time in line. Augere appeared a little apprehensive with so many people present, but the line moved quickly and soon they were admitted into the exhibit. The next several hours would prove memorable for Jason. He was impressed before he even saw the first painting.

They entered a room featuring sketches and drawings by Waterhouse. The room had a distinctly gothic feel to it: the smallish space contained several pieces of furniture, including a small rug, table and lamp, an ornate chair, and a shiny vase, and every one of these items, including the flowers in the vase, was black. This ambience, it turned out, would carry over into the rest of the exhibit. Jason already loved it.

They entered the first room of the exhibit and it was quite dark. It took a few moments for his eyes to adjust and Jason noted the darkness created a hushed atmosphere. It turned out each room of the exhibit would feature black walls, black panels, some of them accented with a darker glossy black lettering on matte black, and subdued low lighting. While the rooms themselves were stark black, the paintings were carefully spot lit. The effect was like walking through a dark forest and finding the enchantment of first one beautiful painting after another stunningly illuminated in the darkness.

He had only seen these paintings in books before, and he was surprised to see how large some of them were. The colors were so rich and vivid they seemed as if they were glowing. No photograph could ever come close to capturing the true beauty of these works. Jason found it a bit overwhelming, in a totally good way. The hushed ambience and the darkness brought an intimacy to the viewing of the artworks, like nothing he had ever experienced before.

He loved the otherworldly themes: mythical, occult, supernatural, mysterious. The strength, confidence and mystery of many of the women portrayed by Waterhouse were clearly evident. But there were also women filled with longing; women who appeared sad, wistful.

All of the paintings were so beautifully presented. The exhibit seemed to feature a particularly gothic aesthetic. One room had luxurious looking black velvet fabric casually draping the partitions that separated the viewing areas. In another room black roses and black vines cascaded down the black walls. A plush black velvet seating area, in the shape of a pentacle, was positioned in view of The Magic Circle painting. Black iron benches and black velvet cushioned banquettes invited the viewer to sit and linger in Waterhouse’s world.

When he wasn’t completely captivated himself, Jason took time to note Augere’s reactions. People all around them spoke quietly, almost reverentially, in the darkness and Jason did the same.

“Have you ever seen any of these works before?” Jason asked him in a whisper.

“Oh, yes. But not so many as these in one place. I do not tire of seeing them. Nothing compares to the view with one’s own eyes.”

“I agree absolutely,” Jason replied.

“There is so much to see here,” Augere stated. Jason thought he was commenting on the entire exhibit and then realized Augere was focused on one painting.

“His brushstrokes and his sense of color… His use of symbolism…the transformation of one creature into another…see how he is able to capture and convey sensuality and seduction; love and longing. The dark setting is the perfect contrast to the glowing life of the paintings—do you think so?”

Jason became aware of an intimacy in Augere’s manner. It took the form of Augere’s soft voice and close proximity as he shared his knowledge of these works of art in whispered tones within the beautifully darkened rooms.

“Oh, yes. I do. I really appreciate this; I had no idea what to expect and this experience is one I will long remember. I thank you for this…”

“It is not necessary…” Augere shook his head and turned his attention back to the painting before them.

“Still, I do thank you. I might never have even known about this exhibit, much less have had the chance to view it.”

Augere gave him a small smile.

They lingered and walked through the exhibit again, taking their time, quietly enjoying their own thoughts. Afterward they visited the gift shop where many books, posters and related items were available. They each bought several of the items.

It was already 2:30 when they exited the museum and Jason was ready for lunch. They were about to part when Jason impulsively invited Augere to join him. Augere declined.

“I know it is presumptuous of me, but I would really like your company. You don’t have to eat. You could have tea or coffee maybe…”

Augere sighed. “Perhaps some wine then.”

They walked to a restaurant on St. Catherine Street, one that served wine. Jason ordered a club sandwich and a glass of white wine. Augere spoke to the server at length in French, before deciding on a glass of Chablis. Jason loved hearing Augere speak in his native language. He had begun to crave Augere’s company even more. Opportunities to share moments like this were still rare. He wondered how Augere had spent the last evening. Now he knew Augere didn’t have family but perhaps he did have some friends here. Jason wanted to ask him, but did not want to appear to be prying.

Jason could have lingered there all afternoon. The restaurant had a fireplace and a soothing ambiance. But Augere suggested they go just as Jason finished his meal.

They walked along St. Catherine, taking their time, looking at the displays in the windows. One shop had artfully arranged shelves showing different handmade curios and resting in the store window on one of the shelves was a sleek black cat. The cat’s large green eyes stared intently at Augere. Jason took a photo of the cat, and then his attention turned to a restaurant next door.

The windows were all dark; the outside was decorated in black and white. Then he noticed the name of the place, printed in script letters in both French and English: “It’s better in the dark.” This was one of those restaurants where patrons eat in total darkness… now there is a trust situation, Jason thought. He walked back a few steps to share his find with Augere and found him still staring at the cat. There was such a look of pain and sadness on his face Jason had to glance away as if he was intruding on an intensely private moment.

“Mr. Augere?” he said softly after a few moments.

“Yes…let us go now,” Augere said without looking at him.

I wonder what that was all about. Again, he was hesitant to ask. They walked back to the hotel, mostly in silence.

“You have a free evening,” Augere said to him as they were approaching the hotel.

Jason nodded. Suddenly, he didn’t feel so free. Augere’s company would have been most welcome. “I know I shouldn’t ask this but what will you be doing?”

Augere shrugged. “Sitting in my room or the lobby perhaps.”

“What…?” Jason stared at him. “You would prefer that to joining me?” He couldn’t hide the surprise in his voice.

“I am not such good company,” Augere stated with a shrug, not making eye contact.

“I totally disagree. I think you and I should go to a movie. A French one maybe. And then go shopping. And then drinking.”

Augere just stared at him.

“Come on,” Jason said. “We’re the same age—I’m guessing—I can’t just let you sit in the hotel lobby while I have a good time.”

“Very well,” Augere replied reluctantly. He did not seem at all enthusiastic, but at least he hadn’t said no.

They arrived back at the hotel before midnight, after a busy evening. Augere had mostly seemed awkward, a little stilted. He’d only had one drink, at a bar on Crescent Street, to Jason’s four, but he did seem to be finally loosening up a little. They had in fact enjoyed a French film, a subtitled one for Jason’s benefit, and then they had browsed an international bookstore, where Jason bought an armload of a variety of French magazines. He considered this a painless way to brush up on his French; the magazines’ current popular contents and challenging vocabulary would keep him well entertained as he acquired a refresher in the language.

Jason was able to sleep in a little the next morning. He got up and thought about calling Augere to join him for breakfast and then doubted it would happen. He got breakfast for himself, and then bought some postcards and stamps to mail to himself and family. He knew his family appreciated hearing from him, especially from his travels, and he never forgot to send himself these little reminders of where he had been, what he had thought and felt and specific mention of things he had done. It had become a little personal ritual for him, and he hoped this trip would be the start of many more such memories, of many more places he and Augere might travel. He thought about all the things he had seen and done in just the last day or so. Suddenly, he laughed out loud. None of this has even cost me any money, he realized, except what I paid for my own food and beverages. Augere paid for everything. Not only that—this is my job now! I am actually getting paid—right now—to do things like this. “Well done, Jason.” He laughed again and then reflected more seriously on his situation. This was Augere’s world and he had been invited in, to share it. Only months ago he could not have imagined himself in such a situation and he felt gratitude for the experience of this.

He found Augere in the lobby. And once again, an elaborate tea was set up for one, as if the hotel had gone out of their way to accommodate a personal request. Jason thought maybe it was a nice gesture on their part. Maybe Augere had been here before and had requested this. It was too bad Augere did not seem inclined to enjoy any of it though.

Augere gave a nod at the tea service, as if in answer to Jason’s unasked question, and Jason sat down opposite him. He helped himself to fragrant tea and then selected a soft buttery croissant. There was more rose jam; one bite into the jam slathered croissant had Jason closing his eyes for a moment.

“Mr. Augere—you have got to try this—it is absolutely delicious.”

“I am quite sure it is.” Augere replied without glancing up from his French newspaper. Jason thought he detected an almost wistful tone in his voice.

They still had time until they had to be at the airport. Augere said he was going to take a taxi and visit a few places in town. Jason wanted to ask to be taken along, and was still trying to get up the courage to be bold enough to ask, when Augere invited him. He gladly accepted. They decided to check out of the hotel then and load their belongings into the cab. That way Augere could visit the places he wanted to see and then they could go directly to the airport.

The taxi drove them around to several different areas, and Jason saw more in that brief time than he would have imagined, or could have done wandering on his own. The old part of Montreal; cathedrals; the different neighborhoods, the stores and shopping areas. They stopped on a quiet street just off of St. Catherine, a residential area of what looked like one family houses. Augere spoke to the driver in French and then repeated in English an address where he wanted to stop: this was at a tall, narrow grey stone building. Lights were on and Jason thought perhaps Augere was going to get out to visit someone. But he just sat for a while, looking at the house.

“I used to live here,” Augere stated, as if knowing Jason was curious. “I owned this house during…” but then he shook his head and he did not finish his sentence. Jason was left wondering what he had been about to say. Could it have been the house he had grown up in? No, that seemed doubtful somehow. And he was from France, not Canada. It was hard to tell from Augere’s expression whether the place held good memories or bad. And how could it have been a childhood home, if he had grown up in France? From there, the taxi took them on to the airport. Along the way, Jason wondered when could Augere have owned that property? Could it be maybe Augere is a little older than he looks? Jason thought. He stole a glance at him. Then he shook his head. No. No way. He can’t be much older than me; in fact I still suspect he could even be younger. Every time he thought he figured something out, the mystery of Augere only deepened.

“I think Montreal has become one of my new favorite places,” Jason told him. “I hope to be able to return here.”

Augere gave him a quick glance and a nod. He was quiet and seemed preoccupied during the return trip.

Chapter 11

Savannah

They arrived in Boston by late afternoon and took a taxi from the airport. Jason unloaded their bags from the trunk and placed them on the curb while Augere paid the driver.

Moments later Jason was suddenly attacked by a white ball of fur. It encircled his legs, trailing a leash, nearly tripping him. Jason bent down to the small creature. There had to be a face in the mass of hair somewhere because a tongue had emerged and was furiously licking his hands. Augere hadn’t noticed the incident, or if he had, he did not linger but took his bags into the house.

Jason looked up to see a young woman running toward him.

“Oh, thank goodness,” she gasped. “She just got away from me! Honestly, it’s like having a wild mongoose on a leash.” Both she and Jason laughed. The dog continued jumping wildly, wagging its entire body and licking Jason’s face with a great deal of exuberance as he bent over the small creature.

“Oh, I’m sorry! She does that to everyone! I’ve never seen a friendlier dog, honestly. And she’s fearless—just runs up to anyone or anything and tackles them!”

Jason laughed. “It’s okay really—I like dogs. I’m not quite sure this really is a dog though.” He was petting the squirming animal and he laughed again. “It seems to be mostly fur. What kind is it?”

“A peke-a-something or other. She’s not mine. I’m just walking her for a friend in the neighborhood, while she’s out of town. That’s why I got so nervous when she ran off. If something ever happened to her, Seraphine would be beside herself.”

“Seraphine? Westenra?” Jason asked, rising to his feet, and handing the end of the leash to the woman.

“Yes! You know her?”

“We’ve met. So you’re dog sitting for Seraphine.”

“Yes. She and her husband just left for Montreal.”

“Wow, really. We just returned from there. It was my first visit.”

“It’s a great city, isn’t it?”

Jason nodded. “I definitely want to go back, and soon. We saw a fantastic art exhibit there.”

“Not the Waterhouse?! That’s where Seraphine and Charles are going too!”

“I think they’ll just love—”

They were interrupted by the small furry creature’s sudden loud whimpering and whining, as if it was hurt. The little dog was crouched against the woman’s legs, trying to squeeze between her ankles as if to hide there.

Jason and the woman stared in surprise, trying to determine the cause of the animal’s distress. They could see no immediate reason. Then Jason noticed the woman gazing past him and he turned to see Augere standing about ten feet away. He must have come back to retrieve Jason, seeing he had not yet entered the house. Augere made no eye contact with Jason or the young woman.

“Well, I better get going. I’ve got to unpack…and do laundry,” Jason said.

The woman nodded. The dog continued a loud frightened whimpering, and was now pulling against the leash, in the opposite direction of all of them.

Augere had already turned and was entering the house, with Jason close behind. Jason turned before he closed the door, and he and the woman both glanced at the dog and then shrugged at each other.

Jason resumed his classes on Monday, and brought home more class material to go over with Augere. Things were going smoothly, with Augere asking questions about the films; they watched several more of the films from the class together.

Augere informed him one afternoon they would be traveling to Savannah, in two weeks’ time, at the end of September. He told Jason they would be traveling by train round trip and he suggested Jason locate a hotel in the historic district, preferably not far from Forsythe Park. He further instructed him Genier did not need to be bothered, nor even informed of any of these travel arrangements. It had been Jason’s understanding Genier should always be notified and have approval of any planned travel. But he said nothing. He would do as he was instructed to do. Not a big deal.

This time he did research ahead of time. There were haunted places in Savannah. Enough to make it worthwhile to bring his ghost hunting equipment. He hoped to be able to visit some of those places; in fact there would be a lot to see and do. History, haunted locations, old southern charm; just the kind of stuff he liked.

Then he realized Savannah was probably going to be very hot and humid still. That was not good; he was no fan of hot weather. It sapped his energy and he never felt well in extreme heat. And then there was the train trip. It was going to take twenty-two hours just to get there, twenty-two hours back. Why on earth didn’t they just fly? They could get there fast and spend more time there. It made no sense to him, but Augere’s preference was not his to question. Hey, at least I am going to see Savannah. I already feel like this is going to be a great experience.

Augere had requested two seats to be reserved for himself, and Jason was already used to the idea Augere of needing his personal space. I should have brought more books to read, Jason thought, once they were on the train. He could have brought his laptop or a DVD player, if he had known there would be power outlets on board. I could be watching movies at least. Maybe he should acquire new gadgets for future travel; but then there was the practical aspect of not having to lug a lot of stuff around when traveling.

He tried sleeping on the train, alternating with watching the scenery. That worked for a while but he reached a point where he was too restless and did not want to be on the train anymore. Finally, thankfully, they arrived. It seemed to have taken forever.

They arrived late at night. No time for any ghost hunt. Not even knowing where he might find something healthy to eat, Jason ended up going to bed hungry after a shower.

He was still tired, but got up to have a large southern breakfast the next morning. His scratchy throat was soothed by cold orange juice. He felt fine by the time he met Augere in the hotel lobby.

Augere stated they would walk to their destination. It was just a few blocks, he said.

The few blocks were more like twelve blocks, and the air was hot, humid. They finally arrived at a stately, three-story house in the historic district on a street with many beautiful homes just like it. But unlike the other homes on Jones Street, this one stood apart with no other homes really close to it.

It was a beautiful house, stunning really, and looked freshly painted in a light grey that complemented the Savannah grey brick that made up part of the structure. Black shutters and white trim decorated tall arched windows. A gracefully curved black iron railing led the way up a staircase to an entrance doorway on what would be the second floor. The house had a lower entrance, at pavement level, that was closed off with an elegant black ornate iron gate in an arched doorway. Both entrances were heavily padlocked. Jason was surprised to see a gas lamp hanging over the upper door, lit in the daylight, on this hot day.

Jason remained standing at pavement level, as Augere climbed the stairs and removed keys from his pocket. He took a few steps forward and noticed the narrow walkway, also gated and heavily padlocked, along the side of the house that appeared, from what he could see, to lead to an enclosed courtyard along the side and to the rear of the house. At least three quarters of the perimeter of the structure was guarded by a six foot stone wall.

Augere had the door open now and motioned for Jason to follow him into the house.

Jason took a few tentative steps into what looked, in the very dim light, to be the entrance to a small parlor. He blinked several times in the darkness waiting patiently for Augere to turn on some lights, or for his eyes to grow accustomed to the dark. Neither happened. And Augere had now disappeared.

Jason advanced slowly, reluctantly closing the door behind him. He reached the entrance to what might have been a large parlor or perhaps a dining room. The space was so dark it was hard to tell, and he saw and felt a choking dust all around him. The still air was instantly stifling, much hotter than outside. He stood in the double door entrance way of this room, trying to take the measure of it, but even determining the size of the room was impossible in the dim light.

Three large windows faced out to the street, but these were completely covered by heavy dark drapes. Augere was at these windows now, and pulled the curtains back, slightly, to let in more light. This did nothing to illuminate the room, however, though the sun was quite bright outside. If anything, the glare made the appearance of the room even worse.

The room was not only too hot and close, it had a pervasive stale, musty odor. If ancient had a smell, Jason thought, it was present here.

Jason tried to take in more of his surroundings.

Dust covered everything, everywhere he looked, from what he little he could see. Just walking into the room had raised clouds of dust that made it harder to take in the view. He could begin to make out small details now. Furniture: possibly expensive antiques, placed randomly around the room. Some of the pieces were covered, almost hastily, while other pieces were not. Several chairs were positioned around a long dining table; Jason would have loved to sit down, but there was no way to avoid being covered in dust. Huge cobwebs filled corners like intricate cities. He peered closely at the dining table, where dishes were still laid out as if for a meal. A meal not served in this century, he would have bet. Jason had never seen dust with its own dust before: he peered at lighter grey layered on top of darker grey, on top of a blacker grey. Jason suppressed nervous laughter. Who could have lived here—Miss Havisham? The contrast of the outside of the house compared to the inside was shocking; he could hardly grasp the fact of it.

Augere made no comment, but stood completely still in what appeared to be the center of the room. He paid no attention to Jason, who still looked all around him, trying to come to an understanding of what was going on here. He would bet than no one had set foot in this house in seventy-five years, and quite possibly a good deal longer.

Augere seemed to be listening attentively while slowly gazing all around him. It spooked Jason. He doubted anyone else could be in the house. In what little light spilled across the floor he could see the footprints they themselves had made walking in. Augere began to walk slowly, making a wide circumference at a distance of about six feet, as he slowly circled Jason. Jason neither heard nor saw anything that could account for Augere’s focused attention. Was he listening for mice? Rats? He was becoming nervous about being there at all.

Once Augere had completed the circle he stopped. He stood as if waiting…for what? Jason was hot, weary, sweaty now and thirsty. The room was so stifling. It felt hard to breathe. He could only imagine the amount of dust he was breathing in. Perspiration trickled down his forehead. But he sensed he should say nothing, even if Augere’s unusual behavior hadn’t unnerved him. Maybe I could tell him I’ll just wait outside, there on the verandah. Hot as it is, at least it would be in shade with air circulating around me. At least it would be away from the dark decay of this room and the choking clouds of dust.

Augere continued to stand still, listening, waiting.

Jason sought to distract himself by glancing around again. The corners were so dark; impossible to see what might be there. But the room had a faded elegance. Even in their weathered state the pieces of furniture he dimly saw must have been beautiful once, since they retained some of their stateliness now. There had to be a sizable fortune here in neglected items. He wondered what treasures the other rooms held. And what was this place, exactly? Not Augere’s boyhood home, for sure. He could not have grown up here. What was this place to him?

Finally, after what seemed an endless interval, Augere became less watchful; less guarded. His shift in manner didn’t put Jason any more at ease.

“I am going upstairs to gather some things. You will stay here, in this room. If anything…unusual…occurs, call out to me, quickly.”

Anything—unusual? Jason had to wonder. Like what? They were already at dead center of unusual as far as he could tell. But Jason nodded. “Is there anything else you need me to do?” He had to ask. He was still hoping to be able to get outside. Quickly.

Augere reflected for a moment. “Check all of the drawers in this room. Collect any papers, documents, or anything that appears to be of any value or importance.”

Jason nodded. He was feeling a little ill now. He wished he had a bottle of cold water.

Augere walked up a large wide staircase and out of sight.

The room held several small tables and a small desk. Jason began going through any drawers and removing anything he found within them: musty yellowed papers; old buttons; small tins of some substance; a few trinkets and bits of string. Small uselessly saved items. But then he found pieces of silverware—real silver probably—Jason thought. More pieces of silverware lay on the table at the place settings also. Jason walked to the table again for a closer look. Some kind of substance sat on the plates; it did not look like dust. He wondered if it might actually have been food, left on the plates. It shocked him a little to think that. Maybe he was wrong. He really wanted, needed, to sit down now for a while. His forehead was damp with perspiration. He pulled one of the chairs a little further back from the table and it creaked in complaint. The chair next to it lay sideways on the floor. He badly wanted to sit down, dust or not, but a black tarry residue covered the seat; it had oozed, once upon a time, over the once beautiful upholstery, down the legs of the chair and then pooled onto the floor. Had varnish…melted and done this? Jason did not know if that was even possible. It was hot enough in here, that much was certain. Jason tried another chair. The same black tarry substance, similar to the other chair was present. All of the chairs he looked at had the same substance. They all appeared to be ruined. He was feeling uncomfortably unwell now. The weariness of the long train trip, the stifling choking heat since their arrival, his current thirst and the return of his scratchy throat were bothering him.

He tried to move slowly around the room so he did not disturb and unsettle the dust more than he had to. He continued to go through the drawers as quickly as he could. The sideboard; the small desk. He found a yellowed rolled parchment in a desk drawer. He carefully unrolled it, fearing it might disintegrate in his hands, and he began to read, with difficulty, a spidery handwritten document. Due to the darkness in the room and the faded elaborate writing, Jason took the document closer to the window to catch what little light was available and read:

Letter of request dated 4th of April 1786 and issued by the government of his Majesty King Louis XVI. Jason could make out a fair amount of the French wording. This had to be a reproduction, he surmised. He couldn’t make out a few faded words, but then he read: hereby requests safe passage and protection be granted to the here named French citizens Francois Louis Augere, pere, ne 2nd May 1749 and Laurent Lucien Augere, fils, ne 3rd October 1777, of Bordeaux France. The document went on to give a description of the bearers.

An official looking seal illuminated the bottom. Wow…if this is an authentic document that would really be something. It would have to be one of Mr. Augere’s very distant relatives, of course. This could be priceless; certainly quite valuable to Mr. Augere, anyway.

He found another document rolled up under that one. This one was in English, but no less difficult to read.

It was issued by the government of the United States and in the upper right hand corner was printed “passport # 795.” Below that: Granted this day, 4th of February 1804 with an expiration of six months hence. Provided to the citizen of France known as Laurent Lucien Augere, by the territory of Louisiana in accordance with his/her vow and oath of allegiance to the United States of America, with all rights, privileges and benefits of American citizens being granted and bestowed upon him/her per acquisition of the Louisiana territory. An oath of allegiance followed: Further I do solemnly swear that I will support and defend the constitution of the United States against all enemies, foreign and domestic; that I will bear true faith and allegiance to the same, and that I take this obligation freely, without any mental reservations or purpose of evasion. So help me God. Signed this day 4th February 1804. It was signed: Laurent Lucien Augere.

Jason was impressed. He had never seen much less held documents as old, and possibly as authentic, and therefore as priceless, as these might be. No doubt Augere would consider them to be valuable. But shouldn’t these have been better protected? Who would neglect family documents with such historical significance as these, and just toss them into a drawer? Maybe they weren’t real. He very carefully rolled them up again.

Augere’s distant family and namesake. Amazing, if they were real. A new detail nagged at him suddenly, but he was now feeling too nauseated and ill from heat and the dusty close environment to focus on it.

He had finished checking the last drawer and had amassed a small pile, including all of the silverware, when Augere appeared at the top of the stairs holding a bulging tapestry bag by its handles.

Jason was startled by a sudden loud whooshing sound behind him. He whirled around to look. On either side of a dirty mirror over the fireplace hung two large paintings, presumably portraits, covered by tattered, faded grayish cloths. The sound Jason had heard was the cloth on one of the life size portraits simply disintegrating and falling into two pieces, with the larger of the two pieces separating and falling to one side, revealing the image below. Jason gazed at it while behind him Augere descended the stairs. The portrait revealed a young man, standing in a casual pose, in a white military type uniform with the jacket negligently and causally unbuttoned at the top and a white shirt opened at the collar. The colors seemed to have stayed true, but even if a little duller, were still fresher than one might have expected given the state of ruin and decay of all the other items in the room. The image was so lifelike and so vibrantly captured it was as if another living presence was suddenly in the room. And the portrait was the exact likeness, the striking and absolutely accurate resemblance of Augere, who now stood right beside him.

Jason stood staring at the painting. He could barely take his eyes from it. The surprise of it totally shook him. The resemblance of Augere to his distant relative was absolutely uncanny. The person standing in front of him could have posed for that. Yesterday.

“That is an amazing likeness,” Jason stated.

Augere did not look at the painting. He was trying to stuff the items Jason had collected into the tapestry bag, taking little care with the precious documents, Jason noticed, too late to warn him of their significance…. So maybe they weren’t the originals after all.

“Do you think so?” he stated in a dull tone that reflected his lack of interest in the comment Jason had made.

“It could be you,” Jason stated, returning his gaze to the image. “Who is the subject of the other portrait?”

Augere turned his attention briefly to the other portrait, still covered and hidden by its dirty tattered cloth. He only glanced at it for a moment, then turned away and brusquely replied, “I do not know.”

Something heavy, dark and oppressive was here, and it seemed to have little to do with the decadent and neglected old house or the heat and dust trapped inside. Whatever it was, it hung in the very air of the place. For a moment, it seemed to emanate from that other covered portrait. Jason suddenly wanted to be far away from it or maybe just far from this house.

“We can go now,” Augere said.

Jason breathed a quiet sigh of relief.

They walked the dozen or so blocks back to the hotel. By the time they reached there Jason wanted a shower and a nap. He awoke later too tired and not well enough to go on the ghost tour as he had planned. He barely wanted to get dinner, having little appetite. He did leave the hotel for a while and picked at fruit and a salad but mostly he wanted cold beverages. The thought of the long train ride again starting early tomorrow was already making him feel weary. Once the sun had set he was able to walk around some and see the sights. The beautiful green oasis of the park like squares laid out in neat grids every couple of blocks totally charmed him. He didn’t do half of all he had planned to. There was just not enough time, and he was not feeling up to doing much.

Later he sat alone by the rooftop pool at the hotel, enjoying his third tall cold beverage minus alcohol. He thought about the events of the day and though he would not have refused Augere’s company, for right now he was glad to be alone with his thoughts.

He was intensely curious about the house. It must have belonged to Augere’s family. Why had no one been there—in forever? The outside of the house had looked particularly maintained and attended to so as not to draw attention. He could understand the desire to hide the condition of the interior. But why was it in the state it was in? And why come all this way, and by the longest way possible, to spend less than an hour in the house? Everything about this trip lay shrouded in mystery. It was all so strange and so secretive. None of it made sense to him, but then it wasn’t his place to ask, or apparently to know the details.

Both of the portraits, the one seen, and the one unseen, haunted him. Perhaps Augere really had not known anything about those two portraits, which seemed unlikely. The one that bore resemblance to him—he at least had to have known about that. There had to be an interesting story there. It appeared he just did not want to say.

A slightly cooling breeze came off of the Savannah River, but it did little to refresh him. He felt too warm still, nearly feverish. He reluctantly headed to his room a lot earlier than he might have usually, seeking the welcoming efficiency of the air conditioning. He was disappointed he had not seen more of Savannah. He fell asleep quickly but dark dreams, and vague, half remembered images disturbed his rest.

Chapter 12

Aftermath

Jason arrived at a stately, elegant home; a house that had once belonged to royalty. In fact a king had visited here recently. It was a large house, several stories, and it had been quite a palace once. Though the outside suggested it was quite new, fresh, and alive even, the inside was dark, decadent and decaying, and had a sense of abandonment. Jason wanted to explore the house; Augere was there with him, entering the house alongside him, though he did not see him.

Jason walked into a room that looked contemporary but not overly modern. He walked through this room, and then entered another, and then another, each room seemingly older in appearance than the previous one. The furnishings changed, looking decades older and noticeably dustier. When he should have come to the end of the rooms, the house went on and on. The house did not appear to be this vast from the outside. He began to feel nervous and thought perhaps he should go back. But it was too late! That thought filled him with panic. Why was it too late? He went on, even though he did not want to. The rooms became darker, more shadowy; the air was choking with the dust of decades. Old musty smells filled his nostrils and he could not escape them. Still he went on, amazed and fearful at how extensive the house was. Finally the rooms became so densely dark and dim it became difficult to make out shapes or to find his way. The furniture crumbled as he watched; it was impossible to avoid the choking clouds of dust that threatened to swallow him and he was in despair.

He came to a room that held a table and what appeared to be a box sat on the table. Everything was covered in heavy cobwebs. He was hesitant to go nearer. He was expected to go to the box and to open it, to look inside. Please…he was pleading, but no one else was there. Please…I don’t want to know…his shaking hand was already on the box lid…he was about to raise it but he was so afraid to do so now. Something was different about the box suddenly. Something he had not noticed before. The box was a different shape now and it filled him with dread. I don’t want to see…he was physically pushing away from it now, trying to move away and to look away and the box looked like a coffin to him now—

Jason woke suddenly and sat up in bed. He quickly switched on the bedside lamp. His heart was pounding; he looked all around the hotel room, trying to orient himself. He was safe. There was no box, no spooky dust-choked room. He shivered in the cold of the air conditioning but it felt good to him and it helped to calm him.

He lay back on his pillow and closed his eyes. The light was still on when he finally fell asleep again until morning.

At breakfast, as he was drinking a second cup of coffee, he wrote down all the details he remembered from his dream. No doubt influenced by the events of the day before, he thought it interesting enough to reflect on later. He’d found a mystery within a mystery to unravel. Mostly the dream amused him, exhaustion combined with an overabundance of weirdness colliding with his active imagination had produced it. He was clearly frightened enough while the dream was occurring though. A lot of symbolism lay within that was intriguing to puzzle out.

Jason was glad they were on their way home as he settled back in the train seat. All he wanted to do now was sleep. Augere gazed out the window at the scenery.

Jason did sleep most of the way. He had restless moments; fragments of dreams and recurring images came to him throughout the long journey. He awoke briefly to take some cold soda and chat briefly with Augere. But he was feeling totally wiped out and looking forward to being home again. He felt weak and a little achy now and the constant scratchiness in his throat was becoming annoying and unpleasant.

They took a taxi from the train station. Jason was perspiring as he walked up the three steps to the front door, feeling as if that small effort took an extraordinary amount of energy. He weakly lugged his one carry-on bag inside the door and then collapsed on the floor just inside the foyer.

He awoke sometime later, lying in his bed. He had no recollection of what had happened, nor of how he had gotten to his room, much less to his bed. Thoughts and sensations came to him as if through a dense fog. He was very thirsty. His throat was sandpaper; too dry and scratchy to try to talk. He had a throbbing headache. He was lying on his back, and he was partially undressed: wearing underwear, T-shirt, socks. His whole body ached. He felt as tired as if he had just run a marathon. He tried to lift his head slightly and the whole room began to spin. A voice spoke rapidly somewhere. His ears were making a crackling sound. Was someone speaking to him? He could not tell. He just wanted to close his eyes and sleep. He had never been so exhausted. He felt a sudden chill and weakly pulled the covers up to his chin. The voice spoke a little louder now, or closer maybe, he wasn’t sure. He couldn’t understand; the words sounded foreign to him. It hurt to open his eyes. He turned partly on one side. He vaguely realized someone was speaking in English and French. He opened one eye to take a look.

Augere was pacing in the room talking on a cell phone. Jason closed his eyes again. Why was Augere here? He wasn’t sure if he was dreaming this. He just wanted to sleep; his eyelids felt heavy. He pulled the covers up closer to his head over his ears. He felt something close to him—too close and his eyes opened suddenly. Augere had noticed his movements and seemed to be handing him something. Jason’s responses were very slow and uncertain. He closed his eyes.

He heard a voice saying something to him; it sounded like “take this.” He opened his eyes and slowly realized Augere was handing him a cell phone. A far away sounding voice was saying his name. He brought the phone to his ear.

“Jason? Jason! Are you all right? What happened?” He thought it might be Genier’s voice.

Jason tried to speak and his voice came out hoarse and squeaking. He did not recognize it as his own. “Not sure. Guess I must have fainted maybe.”

“Yes. Mr. Augere said you collapsed suddenly. He thinks maybe you are dying. He said you need an ambulance and that you should to go to the hospital right now. But you aren’t unconscious now—”

“No. I really don’t remember everything.”

“How do you feel? Do you want me to have an ambulance sent for?”

“No. Don’t…think so.”

“Are you hurt anywhere? What are your symptoms? My wife is right here; she is a nurse. She can advise us…”

“Head and throat hurts…whole body aches. The room is kind of spinning. I feel really tired, just exhausted…” Jason managed to squeak out the words while his eyes remained shut.

“My wife says she thinks you might have the flu. If you go to the hospital you will sit in the waiting room for hours, and be very uncomfortable. Then they will probably send you home and tell you to rest and take fluids. Jason, do you have any pain or fever medication on hand?”

“I…I think so. Bathroom.”

“Okay then. I am going to reassure Mr. Augere. He should be able to offer some help and comfort at least. Do you have juice on hand? Soup? That sort of thing?”

Thinking was an effort. “I think so, yeah,” he replied weakly, his voice trailing off as his eyes closed.

“Good. And I will tell Mr. Augere this also: if your symptoms get any worse, or if at any time you want to go to the hospital we will do that immediately. Okay?”

“Sure,” Jason replied sleepily, struggling to reopen his eyes.

“Okay. Give the phone to Mr. Augere. I will explain what is needed.”

Jason blindly handed the phone out from among the covers with his eyes closed. Augere’s hand grasped it.

He had almost drifted off to sleep in those few moments before he heard Augere speaking loudly in French. He seemed quite upset. His voice sounded pressured as it grew louder and then softer. Angry one moment and seemingly pleading the next. In English, then in French, and then English again. “No—I cannot. Je ne peux pas.” Jason opened one eye to see him pacing the room again. “Non—il faut que tu l’aider! I cannot do this!” And then he suddenly threw the phone down onto a nearby chair—where had the chair come from? Jason wondered—with such force the phone bounced off of the chair and onto the bed, landing alongside Jason. And then just as suddenly, Augere was gone. Jason blinked several times. How had he disappeared so quickly? Jason could hear Genier’s voice on the phone. He felt around for it and picked it up.

“Hello?” Jason said into the phone.

“Oh…Jason. I thought maybe he hung up on me.”

“No…he threw the phone…”

“Not at you?”

“Uh…no… it bounced…here. Next to me. I’m…sorry—to make so much trouble…so angry…”

“Oh, no, he’s not mad at you, Jason. He’s very worried about you. He wants you in the hospital. He is mad at me for not taking care of this.”

“Not necessary…” Jason managed to croak. His voice was fading faster than his energy.

“I told him that. That’s why he is so angry with me. I told him he can bring you some juice, some tea with honey, and some soup. He can do this. He didn’t like that I had to remind him he has had medical training. For god’s sake! He’s triaged soldiers in battle…He can handle this. He is just acting helpless.”

The words washed over Jason; he tried to hang on to them as they passed over him, but it was hard to do. He was trying to focus. What was going on was intriguing. If only he could stay awake. If only his body didn’t ache so much everywhere, and his throat…

“Okay, Jason. I will call later to see how you are doing. Don’t worry. It will be okay. Get some rest.”

“Thanks, Mr. Genier…” his words trailed off sleepily. He drifted off with the phone beside him.

Jason must have slept a while. Five minutes? An hour? He couldn’t tell. Suddenly he was awake. As soon as Augere saw Jason’s eyes open he rose quickly from the chair beside the bed and handed Jason a glass of cold orange juice without a word.

Jason drank the whole thing down in seconds. He tried to thank him, but words would not come out, so he tried to nod. Then Augere presented him with a tray full of medications. Jason blinked several times. It looked like the entire contents of his medicine cabinet. Jason stared at the array of meds. He had to squint to read some of the labels but luckily he recognized most of them. He selected liquid cold and flu medicine; cough drops, pain and fever medication. He really hadn’t the strength to open the childproof bottles but he selected a few and pointed at them, nodding. Augere seemed to have some difficulty getting the caps off also, but he managed it. Jason took the meds with more of the orange juice, propped up on one elbow, finishing off the remainder of the juice carton. He nodded at Augere then and closed his eyes, quickly falling off to sleep.

Jason drifted in and out of a light slumber. Sometimes he thought he heard Augere speaking softly nearby but when he would open one eye to look the chair would be empty. Other times he turned on his side, believing he was alone and would look to see Augere sitting there in a chair by the bed silently watching him.

Jason awoke later in the night and was able to drink a large glass of ice water with more of his medication. He soon went off to sleep again.

He awoke the next morning, his throat still scratchy, his voice hoarse. He was more thirsty than hungry. There was no more orange juice when he asked for some. Augere looked very worried. As if it were suddenly life or death.

Augere got on the phone with Genier. There was a lot of tense conversation, and what sounded like desperate words in French from Augere who then handed the phone to Jason.

“He is going out to get some more—stuff for you. I gave him a list. He will be gone a short while but you will have the phone beside you, if you need to call for any reason. Okay?”

Jason nodded, then realized speaking was required. He was still in a fog. He never seemed to be able to keep his eyes open for too long and he felt like he could easily sleep the entire day away.

****

Things had not gone well for Augere in the kitchen. It was a foreign place to him. Now he needed to buy more food items for the assistant. He suspected this was going to be difficult. But it seemed it could not be helped. Genier was not being useful. He already knew this was going to be a very trying situation for him.

He called for a taxi and then asked to be taken to a place to get provisions, specifically food and liquids.

The cab driver turned around to look at him. “A restaurant?”

“No. Where there is a lot of different foods.”

The cab driver stared at him for several moments. “You mean—a food store?”

“Yes. Exactly.”

“Well, which one?”

Augere gave him a blank look. How should I know.

Then the taxi driver named several. None of the names meant anything to Augere. “Just select one,” Augere told him in an exasperated tone. An odd name for a food store, Augere thought, when he heard the choice. What did it matter? He was anxious to have this over and done. He nodded hesitantly.

They arrived in the large parking lot of big grocery store chain and Augere instructed the driver to wait for him.

He removed from his pocket the list Genier had dictated to him. Then he stood at the front of the store and observed to see how this was done. He had never been in such a place as this before.

People entered and selected a rolling cart. There were varying sizes of these carts. Perhaps he did not need one of those. They assembled in lines with their item-filled carts and waited in turn until someone could look over each item purchased. It seemed a needlessly tedious process. Then the goods were tallied. And then paid for directly to the person who had checked their goods. Then the people left with their purchases. It seemed easy enough.

He walked slowly down the many aisles. At first all of it seemed so remarkable. So many different things; such variety. It soon wearied him though. He became perplexed at the sameness of everything. Was all of this variety really necessary? Twenty-two different kinds of the same paper goods? What was wrong with all of these people? He did not understand it, when all it was only going to be used for—

A small child came careening past him, nearly upsetting the display of goods next to him. He snarled behind the child’s back, looking for an errant parent but there was none to be seen. He decided to move to a safer aisle. It was best not to risk causing an incident here.

He finally found the aisle containing the soup. He had had much difficulty opening those containers at the house. He had wasted a number of them, impatiently trying to force them open. Again there far too many to choose from. Genier had suggested chicken varieties. Chicken broth. Augere looked for those among the shelves. How much chicken could possibly be squeezed into those quite small containers? It was a somewhat appalling thought, and not something he especially wanted to find out. He suspected it would look grotesque.

He found two varieties of cans. One had a metal ring on the top and one did not. He frowned. Opening the ones with the metal thing had not gone well. He had pulled at the rings and they had broken, so he had squeezed them, causing an ungodly mess. He had been forced to discard several of those. Perhaps the other variety? A store clerk walked by and Augere asked for a demonstration of how the metal containers worked. The young man stared at him for several long moments. Then he provided instruction on how to raise the metal ring on the top and then to slowly and carefully peel it back. He went through the motions pretending to do so, to show him how it was done.

“Then what?” Augere asked. “It is consumed like this?”

The young man stared at him again. “No. You would have to put this plastic cover back on to cook it in the microwave or empty all of it into a pan and heat it up.” Augere gave him a single uncertain nod.

Once the young man had left the aisle, Augere tried several of the cans. Apparently too much force caused the contents to fly in all directions when one used the ring at the top. He had squeezed several of the other kind of containers at the house, without much success either. It took carefully opening several of the ring topped containers to convince him he had perfected the technique. He left the practice ones on the shelf, selecting a dozen new ones. Then he found the orange juice and selected two containers identical to the one back at the house. He balanced the items with difficulty, juggling them back and forth as he waited in the long lines with the others. He had to keep a safe distance by changing lanes constantly. His energy field could drop them to the ground if he remained too close to them for any length of time. After a while, he was considering dropping a few of the shoppers just to create a diversion so he could get out sooner; he was bored with all of this. There were a few of them he considered dropping to the floor, just because they were annoying.

An elderly woman, seeing all that he carried, allowed him to pass in front of her metal cart which held more items than he had.

And at last it was his turn to have his items examined. A young checking girl handled each item and then placed them into several bags. They were tallied and he was told how much to pay. Then the young girl asked if he had his shopper’s card. And then, for just a moment, he had an experience rather unique for him: a sense of panic.

“Is it…necessary?” He stared at her.

“Well, a lot of the stuff you bought today is on special with the card.”

He gave her a blank look. His brow furrowed then and the corners of his mouth slowly deepened into a frown. This was not going to work as planned. Apparently he did not have the proper documents. He lacked what was required.

“You would save $4.83 today if you had the card.” The young checking girl said brightly. It appeared she was not going to let him have the goods. He wondered what he should do next. Perhaps he should just leave. No. These items were needed right now. He would have to go somewhere else and start over if he left. He considered dropping the required amount of money in front of her and then just disappearing with the items.

Then the elderly woman behind him dutifully came forward with her card. “You can use mine, dearie,” she said, handing the card to the cashier, and smiling radiantly at Augere.

“Do you want to donate $1 to the store sponsored little league?” the checking girl asked him now scanning the shoppers card. He had no idea what she was talking about. More trouble. Why is this so complicated?

“Is it necessary?” he asked.

“No,” she replied, with a hesitant shrug. “Are you playing our Wishes to Win game? Do you need a game card? You earned three game pieces today.”

He stared at her for several moments before hesitantly nodding his head.

Finally he could give her the required amount of cash. She handed him his change and his receipt along with three small squares of brightly colored paper. “Here are your prize tickets. Good luck! And you only need 280 more points to qualify for your free holiday turkey,” she said brightly, momentarily forgetting it was not his shoppers card, nor his earned points.

“Must I…do so—right now?” he asked. Why may I not just be allowed to leave?

She looked surprised. “No…I mean…you have until November 15th …to earn those.”

“And you are stating I must return at that time?”

He received her intent stare. “If you want,” she said with a hesitant shrug.

Finally, though he was still not quite certain, it seemed he was allowed to leave with the items. The game prizes she had insisted he have turned out to be several rather disappointing pieces of paper that held images of various food items. Of what possible use are these? It seemed like a worthless prize. He shook his head as he stood in front of the store looking in the direction where he had last seen the taxi. I am glad I do not really live in their world.

He saw no sign of the taxi at first and he was becoming furious. Augere cursed to himself. “No more assistants,” he thought. “I am done with this human nonsense.” As he stood there, the elderly woman who had been behind him in the line exited the store. She paused to look at him with a wondering expression and then gave him a small smile. Impulsively he handed her the useless prize tickets. Perhaps she would enjoy the prize pictures. She seemed quite surprised when he handed them to her.

Then he spotted his taxi driving up to meet him and as he began to climb into the back seat with his bag of purchases the elderly woman called out to him “Oh! Young man! Young man! Wait—are you sure you don’t want these?” He did not look at her, but gave her a dismissive wave. “But— you have an instant win here! $500 in free groceries!” she called out. The cab was already pulling away.

****

James Genier called his younger brother Allen in London. They had not spoken in nearly a week’s time, unusual for the two brothers to go so long without contact. He was needing to touch base with the European branch of the family business.

“How are things going there?” Allen asked him.

“I’m feeling nervous at the moment. I don’t know what I was thinking—I just sent Augere to the store to make groceries.”

“Oh—I have got to hear this. Why on earth—how did that come about?”

“Well, the new assistant collapsed to the floor—”

“Oh, no— it wasn’t the energy field was it?“

“No. Not that. At least not entirely, I believe—although it might have played a small part maybe. Augere says this assistant is more susceptible to the energy than others have been. But it appears from his symptoms, according to Lisette’s assessment and Jason himself, from what he told me, that he has the flu. Augere called me, quite upset, and wanted me to call an ambulance and send him to the hospital. He had me thinking the assistant was dying. He just did not want to be the one to do take care of this.”

“Did he go to the hospital—?”

“No, not that serious. He told me the assistant was unconscious—which he might have been briefly, but then Augere put him on the phone. We agreed if he did have the flu it would be torture to send him to emergency. He seemed to know what was wrong with him, and we decided he is better off being treated at home. But of course, Augere was worried. I assured him the assistant will be okay. And that he can provide his basic needs until he gets better.”

“So—everything is okay, then?”

“Well, except Augere got really upset with me. He was claiming helplessness, insisting he can’t take care of an invalid. I had to remind him about his medical training. He just wouldn’t listen. So I was getting exasperated and reminded him he triaged wounded soldiers in battle and for him to just stop it. ‘You can certainly heat soup and water for tea. It’s not that hard.’ He was furious and threw the phone down. He can get like that sometimes. But then I talked to him later once he calmed down a little and I gave him a list of things to get at the store. He had just gotten me so annoyed with him. I said to him, James paused, laughing, “look—you said you were ready for a human assistant again; yes, they are messy and inconvenient. But now you are just going to have to take care of him and deal with it!”

Allen laughed too. “So otherwise the new assistant is working out okay then? Does he have any clue yet?”

“He is doing fine. And no, we think he does not suspect yet. You know, it usually does take some time. I really think he is going to be okay with it though.”

“So, now all you have to worry about is Augere at the grocery store.”

“Yeah,” James sighed. “I’m going to call him right now. I’m hoping he has not already created some kind of international incident or is already on the national news.”

****

Jason awoke slowly. He was lying on his side, and he opened one eye. The room was dark and he could not tell if it was day or night. Without moving he glanced toward the bedside table expecting to see the illumination from his clock . It seemed to be gone. His eyes adjusted slowly to the darkness. He saw the faint outline of a chair near his bed, a chair that was not usually there. Then the image of Augere sitting there. Jason was surprised. He doesn’t need to watch over me. But the kind gesture touched him.

As he gazed he realized Augere was holding something—a book? He was turning the pages at intervals, as if he were actually reading; no way could he see to read in this darkness. Jason lay quietly watching him. He began to recall an evening at the beach…it was so dark, and yet Augere had still appeared to be trying to read then… Jason drifted back to sleep.

When he awoke again the room was brighter. He had no idea how much time had passed, what day it was. He later learned it had been thirty-six hours since he had fallen ill.

He tried to sit up. The room started spinning. He sank back onto his pillows. He glanced to his right and saw Augere sitting there watching him. “You weren’t here all night, were you? What day is it?” Jason asked.

Augere replied by asking if Jason felt better.

“I don’t feel any worse, at least.” Jason smiled weakly.

“Do you require beverages now? Food?”

Jason shook his head with slow effort. “I couldn’t eat. I could drink though. And take more medication.”

Augere abruptly left the room. Jason didn’t even see him go, it was so sudden. My reaction time must be slowed. I feel like I’m still in a fog.

He tried to sit up on the edge of the bed, weak and unsteady. Wow, I don’t think I have ever been this ill. He paused. But I do need to get up. Change my clothes. Shower. But more immediately, bathroom.

He slowly and unsteadily got to his feet and immediately had to sit down again. He waited until the combination of dizziness, nausea and weakness passed. Then he tried it again. With a little more success. The bathroom was not that far, but it seemed to take forever to get there. He got to the toilet and felt as if he might pass out. A strong pair of arms caught him and held him up. Augere. This was awkward.

“I’ll…be okay. You really don’t—I’ll be fine.” Augere left him to some privacy. But once Jason had the shower running, he knocked on the door.

“You should not be doing that. You should remain in bed.”

The water continued to run in the shower for a while.

After a few moments, Jason called out: “I forgot to get clean clothes—could you—do you mind—please?”

He wasn’t sure if Augere had heard him or not but a few moments later Augere knocked on the door. He opened it and the clean clothes were passed inside.

Jason emerged from the shower feeling human again. He hadn’t shaved, but he felt clean and refreshed. And ready to fall back into bed.

He found Augere waiting for him next to the bed. He had brought a tray with steaming hot chicken noodle soup; a cup of hot tea with honey on the side, and a large glass of orange juice. All of his medications were waiting for him on his bedside table. He felt a little overwhelmed at all of the attentiveness Augere was showing to him. It was awkward and he was a little embarrassed by it. But also very grateful. Augere sat in the chair by the bed, with his leather-bound journal beneath and propping open a novel he was reading. Jason thanked him as he finished his meal and then sank back into the pillows and the welcome warmth of his comforter again.

He awoke sometime later to a darkened room. Augere was right there and switched on the bedside lamp, which hurt Jason’s eyes momentarily. He was provided him with the same meal as before, and Jason gratefully accepted all of it. He was starting to feel a little better, but he still couldn’t seem to get enough sleep.

By the next morning he was feeling well enough to shave and shower, though the body aches and weakness lingered. The medication was helping.

“I really think I could eat now,” Jason stated, propped up on his pillows, reading a novel.

He detected a faint sigh from Augere, who rose from the chair. “I will prepare it.”

“No—I can’t have you waiting on me all the time.” Jason shook his head. “I mean, we could order something to be delivered…a pizza with sausage and mushrooms…and wings maybe…or a sub, an assorted, with everything on—”

Augere was shaking his head. “I will call Genier,” he stated.

Why would he need to call Genier, just because I’m hungry? Jason wondered. “Genier is 1700 miles away. What is he going to do?”

Then Jason heard Augere speaking in French, presumably to Genier, on his cell phone.

“Genier says you should not eat a heavy meal. You should continue with liquids.”

He’s probably right. Except I’m really hungry now.

“No, I need real food. Something substantial. I don’t even care what it is, and I want you to order something with me. Just this once, please, for me. You choose— and I will have whatever you’re having.”

Augare’s eyes were fixed on him, and they widened slightly at the last sentence. He bit at his lower lip when he could no longer suppress a smile, and then a laugh burst out of him.

He crossed the room and laughed again, a genuine laugh, full of mirth. Some private joke or thought he would not share, it seemed. Jason didn’t care; he was feeling good finally and hearing Augere laugh only made him feel better. Augere was always so serious all of the time.

“Okay, I don’t know what is so funny… just get me the menus from the drawer in the kitchen so I can order something for both of us. I am starving.”

“Yes, of course,” Augere said, as he exited the room. He had regained his composure, but as he reached the end of the hallway leading out of Jason’s quarters, Jason heard a fresh burst of laughter.

He shrugged and then laughed too. Someday he’ll have to tell me why he found that so funny.

Chapter 13

Salem

The turkey sub he ordered had seemed like a harmless, healthy choice. But Augere and Genier were right: his stomach wasn’t ready for solid food yet. He barely ate half, and wasn’t at all sure he could keep that down. Later he went back to the chicken soup, tea, and juice. And then he slept some more.

When he awoke again after almost five days of mostly bed rest, he felt he finally had to get up. The chair beside his bed was empty. Augere must have realized he was better now. Still, it felt a little odd not to see him there. He had been so attentive, day and night practically. Well, Jason reasoned, Augere shouldn’t have had to do this at all. How embarrassing.

Jason would have only missed one class, if he made it in tomorrow, which he was determined to do. He showered and shaved, and then headed to the kitchen to fix breakfast. A general feeling of weakness lingered.

He had scrambled eggs and toast, orange juice and tea. When he cleared away the eggshells and tea bag, he opened the trash can and was startled to see several cans of soup in the trash, with some of the contents splashed on the sides of the plastic liner. He carefully lifted one of the cans to examine it. It didn’t look dented so much as…mangled. He doubted it could have exploded…it looked more like it had been…squeezed. What on earth had happened to these? He pondered. Several more intact cans were stacked in the pantry than he remembered having had before. Then he vaguely remembered something about Augere going to get groceries. Another thing to feel guilty about: It seemed Augere didn’t even buy his own groceries, but he had had to go shopping for him. This whole episode was bound to put a crimp in their relationship, just when things had been getting better. But then he hadn’t expected to get so ill.

He wondered about that. The long trip, the eventual discomfort of the whole journey and the oppressive heat probably contributed to doing him in. And he couldn’t help wondering if breathing in all that dust and whatever else was in that house hadn’t been good for him either. But it was no one’s fault really. He got the flu; that was that.

Jason called Zavi, and left a message on her machine. His excuse for calling was asking her about the class he had missed, wanting her notes. In fact, he just missed her.

He checked his emails; his sister Carrie was hinting about an invitation to come to Boston for a visit. Great, he would love that. Uh, yeah. Later, after he got more settled into the job. Really not a good idea right now. Definitely not now.

He had cabin fever suddenly and wanted to get out and enjoy the cool crisp fall weather. This was his favorite time of year, when he felt the most alive. And October was the best time to be in Boston. He decided he would ask to take the car for a while. He would drive out to Salem. It would be so perfect right now with dramatic views of the changing leaves. Halloween was coming up, and Salem and the surrounding area would be getting ready with decorations and activities for the ultimate Halloween experience throughout the entire month. He was loving his life right now; grateful for all he had, and for all the joys he hoped to come to him still. His future looked brighter than ever. He enjoyed a sense of elation he hadn’t had in longer than he could remember.

But at the moment he felt so tired again he thought about crawling back into bed for a while. Maybe I’m not as well yet as I thought. He lay on the couch instead, and watched TV, with a bottle of root beer at hand. I better rest up for class tomorrow; shouldn’t push myself too much. By the weekend I’ll be ready for Salem.

He didn’t see Augere that day, which was odd, again considering how attentive Augere had been the past few days. Yeah, well he’s probably tired of you, Jason. He managed to motivate himself to do laundry. Then he checked the library. No sign of Augere.

After class the next morning he enjoyed a coffee with Zavi in the student union. She had a project she was working on for one of her classes and she wanted input from him. He agreed to meet her later in the week to work on it. He loved having another excuse to see her. He brought class notes home to share with Augere.

They were looking at recurring themes in Hitchcock’s work. He and Augere might get a good discussion going, but he was still not to be seen. Jason stayed close to home that evening. He was still feeling weak, but putting on a brave front, if for no one except himself. The few activities of the day had left him worn out.

The next day was Thursday and since the usually scheduled meeting had not been canceled, Jason showed up promptly at eleven.

He found Augere at his desk, a stack of mail sitting in front of him but he was staring vacantly toward the fireplace.

“Mr. Augere?” Jason asked hesitantly, as he entered.

Augere turned his head to look at him and seemed surprised to see him.

“You have recovered.”

“Yes. And I want to thank you for all you did. It is much appreciated. I went to class yesterday; I have some new class stuff to share, all pretty interesting—”

“Another time perhaps. No meeting today.” He glanced away, dismissively.

“Okay,” Jason stated, hiding his disappointment. He turned to leave. There had been an abruptness in the words and manner. Is he annoyed with me? Jason wondered.

Jason went back to his room. He found himself needing distraction suddenly. This uncharacteristic insecurity was still something new to him but it rose and plagued him again so often it seemed to be his new steady companion.

Later that evening, Genier called him. It was a little unusual to get a call from him outside of daytime hours.

“Just checking in to see how you’re doing, Jason. Are you feeling better?”

“Oh, yes,” Jason replied, more to convince himself. “I’m back to my routine again.”

“Glad to hear that. I haven’t talked to Mr. Augere in the past two days, which is rather unusual. He hasn’t been answering his phone. Is everything okay there?”

Jason wasn’t sure how to answer that.

“I think so. I saw him just briefly today. He cancelled our meeting.”

“How did he seem to you?”

“I don’t know. A little distracted maybe.”

“Hmm. Yes, the last time I talked to him he was distracted and impatient with me. I’m not sure what’s going on.”

“I was pretty out of it for the past few days. I think I slept more than I ever have in such a short time. I’m not sure how he was dealing with all of that. Except he did really laugh at something I said. I feel guilty he had to occupy himself with me so much. He shouldn’t have had to do that.”

“But generally, he seemed—about the same to you?”

“I really couldn’t say for sure. Lately he has seemed very quiet and distracted; he was very quiet and he acted a little distant on the trip too…” Uh, oh. Maybe I wasn’t supposed to say anything about that.

“You mean—when he was in Montreal?”

“No, the other—” Jason paused. He wondered if it was okay if he mentioned the Savannah trip. Augere had said it was not necessary to tell Genier the details. Did that mean—none of it? Not even to mention they had gone there? Suddenly he wasn’t sure.

Jason was silent, trying to think his way out of this.

“What other—are you saying he went somewhere else?”

“I don’t want to get into any trouble with him. I don’t know if I am supposed to say. He said I did not need to bother you with any of the details.”

Genier was silent for a few moments.

“Did he specifically tell you not to tell me?”

Great. See what you’ve done now, Jason?

“Not in those words. He just said I didn’t need to bother you with the travel details.”

“Do you know where he went?”

“Do I have to say? I have a feeling he might be angry with me if I say too much.”

There was a longish pause.

“I can rarely say this and be certain of it, but this time I can assure you—I will not let him take it out on you if you tell me.”

Could this get me fired…? “Would he fire me though?”

“As bad as that? No, I can’t see why he would. Unless he had said ‘I do not want you to tell Genier, no matter what,’ and even then—I would stand up for you.”

Jason sighed heavily. “There was a trip to Savannah.”

There was a longer silence.

“He went—to Savannah?”

“We were coming back from there, had just gotten in the door in fact when I apparently fainted. I hadn’t been feeling well for most of the trip.”

“He took you with him?” Obvious surprise colored Genier’s tone. “So—what day-days—are we talking here?”

“We left on the 30th and returned on October 3…wait—that’s it…! That’s what I was trying to remember! There was an old passport, just a piece of rolled up parchment really, and the month and day of birth on it was the same as Mr. Augere’s. I heard him tell this person not too long ago what his birthdate is… I didn’t put it together until just now. I guess I was already feeling a little ill I think, at that point.”

“Where was this—paper? Where did you see it?”

“In the house. I guess it had belonged to his family. He never did say.”

“He took you—to the house—you went inside it?”

Genier’s tone of disbelief and surprise suggested to Jason this was a bigger deal than he had thought. Now he really wished he had said nothing.

“Yes.”

“Did something happen that precipitated his going there? Did he tell you why he went? Did it seem like a sudden decision? Was there any kind of urgency about going—”

The rush of questions took Jason by surprise. He could not respond for a few moments.

“What is up with that house?” Jason asked then. Now he would like some answers if possible.

“It belonged to—it has been in—the family for a long time. He has been reluctant to even consider selling it.”

“I’d be willing to bet no one has set foot in there in a century. It would be a hard sell.”

“Is it in bad shape?”

“Not that you would know from the outside. Do you know the house I’m talking about?”

“I have never seen it.”

“It is in a great neighborhood. The historic district, on a beautiful street. That house looks just as great as the surrounding ones, from the outside. But the inside…it’s hard to describe it.”

“What did he do there? Did you get any idea of why he went? Did he say anything to you about his purpose? Do you remember anything unusual?”

Everything about the whole trip was unusual. “His behavior was a little strange. He seemed to be looking around and listening, inside the house. It freaked me out a little. I thought maybe he was listening for mice or rats…maybe he heard plumbing noises…or maybe it was just me. We were there less than an hour. He told me to wait downstairs; to gather up anything that looked to be of value from the drawers. Then he came downstairs with a bag full of stuff, and then we left. That was it. We went back to the hotel. I really wasn’t feeling well then. I didn’t see him again until we got on the train the next morning—”

“You took the train? To Savannah? That must have taken an entire day!”

“Yeah. The train, there and back. It took at least twenty-two hours each way.”

There was a long pause from Genier. “No wonder you were ill when you got back. Out of seventy-two hours you must have spent more than forty of those on the train. That would have made anyone weary. And you returned on the 3rd, you said—”

“Oh, damn! I just realized—that was on his birthday! He spent his birthday taking care of me. Now I really feel guilty about this—I have to do something to make this up to him. Get him a cake or something, at least. Damn!…What kind of cake does he like?”

“I wouldn’t worry about that. He does not celebrate birthdays, particularly his own. He doesn’t expect anything.” Genier paused. “So, he never discussed any of this with you? Never said why or what or—”

“No. Nothing. You’re not going to tell him I told you, are you? I really don’t feel comfortable about this.”

“I will not mention it to him. I’m hoping he will say something to me about it. I appreciate you telling me. I think this does provide some clue as to why he has been so preoccupied lately. I am going to try to call him tonight. I will leave you out of the discussion.”

As their call ended, Jason still felt uneasy. He did not like being caught in the middle like this.

He began to reflect on all the things he had seen in Savannah. He had already written down the details of the dream he had had in a journal he had been keeping for a while, mostly related to his paranormal investigations. Now he added any other details he could remember from the house and the whole experience of being there.

It was such a coincidence: that portrait of Augere’s ancestor looking so much like him that it was startling; but even more amazing: that old passport showing that his ancestor had the exact same birthday as his, except for the year. How incredible was that?

On Friday morning Jason was running a little late to class; he threw his journal and class notebook into his messenger bag and then scooped all of the pens and assorted small items left on his bedside table into the bag. He had to rush to the subway to get to class on time. After class he met with Zavi and they had lunch at the student union.

The project she was working on was for her cultural anthropology class. She explained the assignment was to find, or to create/invent, an ancient culture and creatively describe how these beings might have survived to the present day, by illustrating in what ways they would have had to change and adapt over time, or would have failed to adapt and why; what trials and obstacles they might have had to overcome and if they survived how they might now be perceived by today’s society.

“So—I got this idea,” she explained, “after we saw those films in cinema class, you know—the outcasts, and how they were portrayed?” Jason nodded. “And I decided to choose something already recognizable in today’s society and work backward from there: what might the origins have been? While researching online I came across this condition that intrigued me. It is not factual, and has become more of an urban mythology really, presumably invented by someone’s imagination, but I liked the basic idea and I saw its potential here. It is largely plausible, given the other types of mutations that do exist. Tell me what you think: I thought I would call them Gypatians. It is an actual word basically meaning in a manner that is strange, unusual and ‘gypsy’ like. Because I liked the idea of them being a definable subculture like gypsies. First appearing in ancient Egypt, but also found in Mediterranean regions: people with this condition are born with blue grey eyes that change to a deep violet, an almost purple looking hue. They all have very pale, white skin that resists the effects of the sun.” She paused. “I know—weird, right? Since they come from Egypt.

“They have smooth, well-proportioned but thin bodies—scant body hair, but all of them have either very dark brown or black hair on their heads. Their bodies experience a very, very slow aging and the normal life span can be more than 170 years. They have very strong immune systems, and can resist all diseases presently known to affect mankind. Their senses are quite enhanced and highly developed, especially eyesight.” She paused and looked up at him. “Well, what do you think so far?”

He nodded slowly. He had been intent on her every word. In fact the subject had totally captured his attention. He found he could not voice an opinion for several moments. He was feeling a little queasy suddenly and blamed it on his recent illness.

“Well—it is very intriguing, I have to say.” He was being honest. “Where are you going with this, exactly?”

“Well, I thought, what if this genetic variation, or mutation, this subculture actually, were to survive to modern times—and why wouldn’t they?—how might they be regarded now? So I jotted down some notes and ideas. Let’s say, in Egyptian times they were regarded reverently, because they were so different from the rest of the populace. They stood out but in good ways. Life was good for them. They thrived and prospered and held a high place in society. And this continues for some time; for many generations.

“By the time they get to the Middle Ages, they are regarded with suspicion, however, because they were not like everyone else. They had to go into hiding, in order to adapt and to survive all the fears of the times. In the eyes of the rest of the world, they were non-human, unnatural, and evil perhaps. Their physical characteristics and attributes made them stand out as too unusual. They would have been something to be feared.

“One of their traits would be secrecy, especially as related to their way of life; they would dislike keeping any records or writing and recording anything about themselves.

“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?”

He was taken aback. He hadn’t thought he really was disturbed by it. It was just an interesting dream.

Jason began to reflect on this.

“There was a steadily growing sense of fear…it was just a house…but…the house…was not what it seemed to be. Deceiving. It seemed there was so much more on the inside than what you saw from the outside. I felt like I was being pulled deeper and deeper into some mystery…I felt like I wanted to get out of there. Compelled and pulled…toward some secret that I—did not want to see or know…” he stopped, with a puzzled look on his face. His throat began to tighten. He suddenly felt too warm; flushed. He was a little dizzy and somewhat uncomfortable, as if he needed fresh air. The lingering illness I suppose.

“If you had to take a guess—right now—what do you think that secret is?”

His mouth went a little dry. He drank some of the tea. Normally tea was refreshing to him. Just now it did nothing to ease the dryness in his throat. His hands were shaky too. He set his cup down. “Could I please have some water?”

She called out to the young girl tending the shop who poked her head into the back room. She went to get a pitcher of ice water and then poured Jason a tall glass.

“I was sick in bed for several days,” he explained, “and I’m still not fully recovered.”

She nodded slowly.

“You mentioned there was someone with you…in the actual house…and in the dream as well?”

His brow furrowed. He drank down the glass of water.

“I felt a presence…standing…near. There, but…not actually there.”

“You felt a presence, but did not see anyone?”

“Right.”

“What happens…when you start to think of what the dream might mean…when you try to focus on the secret?”

“It—becomes hard to concentrate. I start to feel restless. Kind of overwhelmed. I feel like I want to run; my heart beats faster. I want to get away, but I feel immobilized.” Jason surprised himself. He took a few deep breaths. It’s just a dream, he reminded himself.

“What you are describing sounds a lot like a panic attack. Have you ever had one of those?”

“No. Never.”

“Why don’t we take a break for a few moments.” She stood smoothly, her skirt swirling around her feet.

“Good idea.” He got up and started to walk around the shop, carrying his cup of tea. She watched him from the beaded doorway.

“So, you do tarot cards, palm readings, past life regressions—all of that?” he asked.

“Yes. Is that something that would interest you?”

“Can you really tell a lot about a person, know a person that way?”

“Sometimes.” She watched as he paced nervously, looking at things in the shop, but not really focusing on them.

Interesting, he thought, the way I phrased that. Not—can you tell the future, but can you know a person. I don’t even know what my own thoughts mean right now.

“I need to get a gift for someone who is difficult to buy for. I already decided to stop at the mall on the way home to get something. But—maybe something else to go with it.” Jason was thinking of an Invader Zim shirt—if there some new ones out—or maybe an IT Crowd shirt from the mall. Now he was glancing at items in the center display case.

“Well, what kinds of things does this person like? Maybe I can suggest something.”

Jason laughed. “He’s very unusual. I think you would need more than Tarot cards to figure him out.”

“You’d be surprised.” she said. “Sometimes all I need is a personal item that belongs to someone; I can hold on to it and tell a lot about them.”

Jason looked at her for a few moments, thinking.

He walked back to the table and picked up Augere’s fountain pen. He showed it to her. “Would this work? It belongs to him.”

She examined it as he held it in his hand. He offered it for her to hold.

She took the pen in her hands and turned it over several times. Then she let it rest in the open palm of her hand and gazed at it.

“I am getting the impression this pen is old. Very, very old.” She held the pen alongside the left side of her head for a minute or so. Then placed it in one palm for a few moments and then in the other. Suddenly it was all looking like a sideshow trick to Jason. Was she toying with him?

“Absolutely extraordinary.” She seemed in genuine awe, and closed her eyes for several moments.

“It’s just a fountain pen,” Jason felt the need to say. But she held his full attention now.

She shook her head. “Not exactly.” A few moments passed. “Impossible.” She whispered. “He writes with this pen, very often. He writes in French…English…it looks like Italian also, maybe. And Latin. He is French. He has a connection—a very strong connection it seems—to New Orleans.”

Jason stared at her in amazement.

“He has lost something…I don’t get a sense of it…of what it is but it means a lot to him—a kind of a good luck—no, more than that…I may be confusing the object now with the person. The images come so quickly.”

She set the pen down on the table and stared at it. It held her gaze for some time. She got up from the table and walked to one of the display cases. She brought a set of keys out of her skirt pocket and Jason watched as she opened the case and then selected the item she had been searching for. She removed it for Jason to see.

“It is not exactly the item I ‘saw’ but it is very close. And this is actually from France. I purchased it there myself. I think he would like this.”

Jason took it in his hand to examine it. It was an exquisite silver fleur de lis charm; a little larger than quarter sized; thick, weighted, smooth with beveled edges that reflected light. It could be worn as a either a pendant or attached to a bracelet. It had a masculine look to it and Jason thought it was quite beautiful. Perfect for Augere. But how could she know? He had said nothing about the missing fleur de lis. Could it be just coincidence?

“Of course, you could always return it if he didn’t like it.”

“This will be fine actually.” It was more appropriate than anything else Jason had come up with so far. And he could still pick out a shirt for Augere. Why not.

She turned her attention to the pen again as they went to sit back at the little table. The pen sat on the table between them.

“This pen must have been handed down for many generations. I get images from it that seem to predate the Civil War; a lot of strong emotion is attached to this object; or maybe not this very object itself, but—I think maybe I was sensing several different life times.”

“You can really tell all that—from a pen?”

“Well.” She laughed. “Not a BIC pen, necessarily. But a fountain pen is quite different. It is a very personal object. My father used to use one and I learned a lot about them from him. People tend to keep them for a long time and take good care of them. The nib, the actual writing part, tends to adapt to the writer over the years and the longer the pen is used the smoother it writes for that writer. So there is much more of a personal element involved; the writer’s life, emotions, history and experiences etc. can become attached to and a part of that writing instrument, in a sense.” She noticed his rapt attention, and laughed gaily. “And that is probably a lot more than you ever wanted to know about fountain pens.”

“Actually that is quite interesting. I never would have realized any of that. What else can you tell me about the pen, or actually, the owner of it?”

“Why don’t we continue with the dream analysis first, if that is okay? And come back to the pen a little later. I want to absorb the energy from the pen for a bit. Get a clearer sense of it first.”

Jason nodded, fascinated. He was a little reluctant to continue with the dream again. He was trying to stall. Then he took a deep breath and told her as much of the dream as he could remember in its entirety and then used his notes to add more details.

After he was done, Redlyn studied the notes she had been taking. Several minutes passed before she spoke.

“Okay—this is just one interpretation and not intended to be definitive. Again, it might resonate with you immediately, or not at all; or again, it might at some future time.”

Jason nodded.

“I see the house as possibly representing yourself, or ‘selves.’ The various rooms being the selves that one keeps hidden, even from ourselves; secret desires or longings, events, memories—that one is afraid might ‘come to light ‘and so are hidden in darkness. Your hand is on the lid of a box—are you really opening it, or are you closing it? Is there an attempt to keep things hidden or buried? These things could be in the recesses—‘the different rooms’—or in layers of your subconscious, because you are not ready to deal with them. The house is ‘nice’ on the outside; there is a normal outer appearance, while your true self could be hidden under a pleasant exterior. There could be a fear of being found out; others may see the unpleasant aspects—the ‘decay’ or unpleasantness barely disguised by ephemeral layers of dust. Your true feelings, motives, fears, longings, secrets may be what is at stake to be kept safe. There could be a fear of them being ‘just barely hidden below the surface’ and in danger of being suddenly exposed. The box contains all of those things, perhaps more, and you may feel you have to ‘keep a lid’ on all of it. You may fear risking your emotions, showing your true feelings. In that case the table becomes a focal point—a platform or display—where things come to light, such as ‘putting your cards on the table’ so to speak. And having a fear of doing so.”

Jason was fascinated and impressed with the interpretation; he nodded as he continued making a few notes, and made sure the digital recorder was still operating. She’s good.

“Alternatively, the house may not be an actual house, but a metaphor for a person. Possibly—you are projecting yourself onto something inanimate.

“The house as a person: a tall, stately, young, vibrant outward appearance, but disguising someone who is not what they seem. The inside—the inner person—is older, wiser and more mature than the outward appearance suggests; the inner history may be more extensive and complex, and not consistent with the outer appearance. Passing from one room to another: secrets surrounded by darkness, literally and figuratively. Perhaps a deception, a complex mystery, going back over a long time. Someone who keeps their true self, their emotions, and their agenda, hidden. There is a sense of fear of the unknown, and unknowable. Again the table represents a focal point, a desire ‘to get everything out on the table.’ Your hand is on the lid; you are in a position to take action, or you want to be, or are pushed to be: you want to know but you are afraid to know. You are about to open the lid to finally see and acknowledge all that has been kept hidden; or you are closing the lid—to avert your eyes to the truth about a person or about a situation, preferring to keep it hidden or not to know.”

“I think I’m going to need more water,” Jason stated. He felt his cheeks flush. For several moments the room was too warm. He got up and refilled his glass with ice water.

She watched him quietly for several moments. He did not meet her gaze when he sat down again.

“Remember, it is just a subjective analysis, among other possible interpretations. This may be all there is to it; or after reflection other meanings might occur to you. The conscious mind may be slow to acknowledge what the unconscious mind knows or reveals.” She paused.

“Can I make you more tea?”

Jason nodded. “The Earl Grey would be great.”

He wanted to linger here longer with her. He felt uncomfortable and yet she helped make him feel comfortable at the same time. The scent of the tea and some incense that was burning now, the overall atmosphere, was soothing to him. Even the temperature was comfortable to him again. Any discomfort seemed to come from within himself.

“Would you like me to do a tarot or a palm reading for you?”

His palms felt kind of sweaty. “A tarot reading would be interesting, I think. What would you suggest?”

“Perhaps a little of both. Don’t worry.” She looked up at him with a smile and a twinkle in her eye. “I won’t charge you outrageously. Not a Minnesota boy.”

He laughed. “Whatever you think then.” He was glad for the excuse to linger. She was giving him a lot to think about and he was enjoying her company.

She showed him several tarot decks and asked him to select the one he favored. He looked them all over: she had nine different decks, all of them interesting looking. He chose the Egyptian deck. She had him divide the cards into several different stacks and then had him mix all of the stacks as he wished. Then she began to lay the cards out into a pattern. Jason had had a tarot card reading done only once before. It had seemed very generalized to him, and not very applicable to anything going on in his life at that time, but quite interesting nonetheless.

She took a moment to look the cards over. She jotted down some notes. Then she began:

“At the beginning of this year, you had a reversal of fortune. There have been many changes for you. These have been good changes and you have been pleased with the outcomes.” She paused, looking the cards over for a moment. “You will be traveling soon…”

“Any idea where?” Jason interrupted to ask. He hoped if it was Savannah again, they would fly this time.

“I see you traveling…over water at some point…and… there will be an ending of sorts. I just had a flash, a quick image of a gondola, so I am going to say Italy because I see a lot of water also. And then you will be trying with great difficulty to reach a distant shore…some remote, hard to reach place…it will seem impossible…a struggle and great hardship. This is not so much physical, however…” She paused, frowning as she gazed at the cards.

“There is an element of danger too…” She frowned again and was silent for several moments, gazing at the cards. “…from unexpected sources.” She met his worried gaze. “It will be a very difficult experience, I’m afraid.”

“Someone is not going to die are they?” Jason asked with alarm, thinking of his family.

“No—nothing like that. Not an actual death. I see something coming apart. Difficult decisions will need to be made.”

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.

His attention turned once again to the TV, as he put the pen back in his bag. Damn! Now his other favorite episode was over, and he’d missed most of that too. I’ve been watching TV for over an hour and I haven’t seen anything! He laughed. He ate half of the sandwich and part of an orange while he surfed TV channels for a while. One hundred channels and still nothing worth watching. Finally, the time arrived for Casablanca to start. He finished off the last of the tea and took several drinks of the root beer before he pulled the covers up around him and got comfortable, preparing to watch one of his favorite films. He was already thinking of his favorite lines: “You really despise me, don’t you, Rick?’ Peter Lorre’s character said to Bogart. “If I ever gave you any thought, I probably would,” Bogart replied. The last thing Jason saw before his eyes grew heavy and he fell off to sleep was the opening credits.

He was up and out the door by 10:00 a.m. He had checked his phone and the hall table for any word from Augere. None of course. He called Zavi once he arrived downtown—maybe they could meet for lunch?—and had to leave a message on her phone. There were no classes today. Where was she?

He made his way to the pen store where a man in his mid-forties or so, attired in a navy blue suit and presenting a somewhat snobbish demeanor, greeted him at the counter.

“I wonder if you can tell me anything about this pen.”

“Ah, yes.” The man took it from Jason’s hand, turning it over. “What did you need to know? Are you interested in selling it?”

“Not exactly. I just need to know something about it; if there is anything special about it.”

The man gave him a fleeting look of disdain. As if Jason, in particular, had no business being in possession of such a pen.

Then the man’s demeanor appeared to grow a little friendlier as he examined the pen more closely.

“It’s a Waterman 12.” He carefully took the pen apart. “Iridium tipped, 18 karat gold nib. Sterling silver overlay barrel, from the look of it. Eyedropper filling reservoir.” He felt the heft of it, then poised as if to write with it. “Quite a nice writing instrument. I should love to dip it. Is it still in use?”

“Uhm, yes.”

He called out to someone at the next counter, “Andrew, you must come and see this.”

Andrew joined them, giving Jason a disapproving look from head to toe, before taking a glance at the pen. Then he immediately took hold of it. “Excellent! You don’t see many of these still in use. Jeff! Hey, Jeff, come here and have a look at this,” he called out toward a back room. A third man joined the first two.

Jeff made the appropriate “ah” sounds. “And it’s still in use!” the first man said to him. “I have never actually held one of these particular pens before. May I try it out? I should love to have a go with it.”

“Oh, yes, I agree. We definitely should. I’ll bring us some ink.”

“Do you mind? If we try it out?” The first two finally thought to ask Jason.

“I guess it’s okay. Can you tell me a little more about it though?”

“Well, the Waterman patent goes back to 1884. I would say this particular pen came from England or France… Maybe sometime around say 1900 to 1907; thereabouts.”

“This—pen?” Jason looked at it. “Is that old?”

“Oh, yes. This pen, I would guess, is approximately one hundred years old at least, if not older.”

“And what kind of value would you say it had?”

“I could get a specific estimate, if you want. Just off the top of my head though, based on some pens made after this one, and not in as good condition as this, I would say this one could go for five, or six even, with no problem.”

“Dollars?” Jason wondered. No, it had to be worth more than that. “Five or six—hundred?” Jason asked him in surprise. The disdainful look briefly returned to the man’s face. What is it with this fountain pen snobbery? Jason’s face wore a bemused expression.

“This pen could fetch six thousand dollars. Easily.”

Jason’s expression melted into a stunned look.

The third man had now returned with ink. “It is so rare one gets to write with a 100-year-old pen,” one of the men stated, nearly giddy with excitement. Jason stared uncomfortably at the instrument of their intense interest. Having just acquired the knowledge of its considerable value, he watched nervously as the three men in turn passed around, fondled, and generally had their way with Augere’s pen.

After he left the pen shop, Jason became focused on keeping Augere’s 100-year-old plus, $6,000 pen safe. Bad enough Augere had lost one thing he treasured, without losing this too.

He browsed a bookstore downtown while hoping to hear from Zavi. He selected some magazines: High Fructose, Rue Morgue, MAD and two travel magazines, all of which he purchased to read while he waited in a coffee shop for her to call. He didn’t have to wait long. She had been getting her hair done nearby and told him she would be glad to meet with him for a late lunch.

He glanced up as she approached, her leather purse twirling and swinging in her hand as she strided toward him. He felt a stir of sexual desire just watching her body move. He was soon treated to her lilting laugh and effervescent humor.

They sat for a while and talked. Neither was hungry so they decided to catch a movie first and then made plans to visit a Moroccan restaurant in Cambridge later for dinner. It was to be a new dining adventure for Jason; Zavi, being more the expert, would be his guide in selecting something great to try. He loved it that she would lead him on this adventure.

He had never been to Morocco but the restaurant décor seemed as authentic as he would have expected it to look. Music that Jason associated with belly dancing was playing softly and the scent of orange essence, cinnamon, mint tea and cardamom, as well as other spices he couldn’t identify, filled the air. The dominant colors were turquoise and shades of peach and blue. Gold toned lattice room dividers created small private dining areas. He and Zavi were led to one of these where a small cozy couch held an array of tasseled plump pillows in jewel toned hues. Brass and jeweled hanging lamps cast elaborately patterned shadows, creating a romantic glow in corners of the room. Mint tea, and later their meal, was served on small round shiny brass tables. They sat in view of an indoor fountain that rose from a turquoise and peach tiled archway. Zavi ordered for them: grilled vegetable kabobs and a tomato and cucumber salad with feta cheese, olive oil and lemon. Their main course was a chicken tagine made with onions and prunes and served with couscous and the mint tea. The meal was exotic and sensuous, enjoyed with an exotic and sensuous companion. He gazed into her eyes, physically aroused by the mere presence of her. The background music contributed to the seductive atmosphere.

They stopped at a neighborhood bar and had a few drinks after dinner. At an opportune moment Jason leaned toward her and kissed her lips. She responded warmly, placing her palm on his cheek as she drew him to her and kissed him back.

In almost no time they were at her apartment and undressed. She was wildly sensuous in bed. Jason could not recall ever having sex with such abandon as he experienced with her. The second round of passionate sex was even more intense than the first.

He reluctantly left her apartment near midnight and took a taxi home. They both had class the next morning. Besides, he laughed contentedly as he settled into the taxi seat, I have to get this pen home safely.

He was almost shy with Zavi the next morning in class. But she soon put him back at ease. He reminded himself how lucky he was to have found someone like her. They had coffee, and shared passionate kisses, for a brief visit after their class. And then she had her project to work on, and he needed to get back home. But probably, he thought as he checked his phone then for any messages as he boarded the subway, I’ll be there with nothing to do.

He straightened up quickly on the subway seat when he saw he had missed a call from Augere.

Damn! What time had he called—and what time was it now? A glance at his phone told him the call had come less than twenty minutes ago.

He called Augere’s number. It rang four times before Augere answered. “Yes.”

“It’s Jason. I just got your message. This is the first chance I had to return your call.”

“You have time away from your class for the holiday that is approaching, correct?”

He must have meant Thanksgiving. Unless he was counting Halloween.

“Did you mean—in November?”

“Yes.”

“I do, yes.”

“Are you returning here now?”

“I can be there within a half hour.”

“I will speak to you then.” He hung up.

Well. He didn’t sound angry or annoyed. And, Jason thought, I have his pen to return to him; that should make him happy. Plus the two presents I bought for him.

Jason entered through his private entrance. He brought the fountain pen and the recently purchased items with him to the library.

The sight of Augere sitting at his desk caught Jason’s breath, as it still did nearly each and every time. There was just something about being his presence Jason could not get over. At times it made his heart quicken as if he were approaching a famous person whom he had idolized all his life and who had just now granted him an audience. It was a reaction Jason had been trying to curb, but without much success.

“Hi, Mr. Augere. I hope I’m not very late. I was on my way home when I got your call. And I have something of yours,” Jason babbled, hoping to get in a pre-emptive strike if it turned out Augere was miffed. He handed him the fountain pen.

Augere looked at it a moment, and then leaned closer to take it from Jason’s hand. A momentary dizziness quickly passed.

“Where did you find it?” Augere asked.

“It was on my bedside table. I didn’t realize it was mixed in with all of the pens and notebooks I tossed into the bag I use for school. I guess it had been there for a few days.”

Augere held his gaze for several moments. He examined the pen with a curious expression for several moments before setting it on the desk in front of him.

“I have some other things for you also.” The fleur de lis charm he had gotten wrapped, but not the T-shirt.

“When I finally realized you had spent your birthday looking after me, when I had inconveniently gotten so ill, I wanted to get you something. This is what I came up with.” He handed Augere the bag with the shirt. Augere opened it.

Augere’s face relaxed into a small smile when he took in details of the shirt. “I quite like it.”

Jason breathed a sigh of relief. “And this.” Jason handed him the small box wrapped in silver paper.

As Augere removed a silver ribbon from the box, Jason was already speaking rapidly again.

“Mr. Genier mentioned to me you had lost that small fleur de lis I’ve seen you wear. I know this can’t replace the one you lost, not nearly, but until you find that one, which hopefully you will, I happened to come across this and I thought you might—”

Augere’s expression stopped him. “It is perfect.” he said. “It looks like something I would have chosen myself.”

That pleased Jason immensely.

Augere removed the fleur de lis from the box to examine it more closely. The expression was one he had not yet seen from Augere, something new, to add to his growing collection of Augere responses. He appeared profoundly, sincerely touched by the gesture.

Jason felt the need to explain. “I just did not want your birthday to go unobserved entirely. Even if it is late.”

“You…did not need to do this. I do not acknowledge them.”

“Well, I’m going to acknowledge mine until I am too old to remember how old I am.” Jason laughed.

Augere was looking at him in that intent way he had. Jason usually squirmed under that intense scrutiny. He had been learning to try to sit calmly and endure it; he was getting better at it, but he still could not quite meet that intense violet hued gaze for very long.

“You have not made plans for the time in November.” As usual Augere’s questions were more often statements, as if Augere already anticipated the answer, and merely wanted to hear it confirmed.

“None.” Jason truly had not even given any thought to Thanksgiving. He was just now realizing it was only a month away. He supposed it would be nice to be home with his family. Then, again he had missed Thanksgivings before—

“We will be traveling to Europe then. I will provide you with the details tomorrow. I will be flying to London first and will attend to business there. You may go directly to Italy in advance, if you choose. Or you can delay your departure. In any case, we shall meet in Venice. I will have you make the arrangements and then confer with Genier. Are there any immediate concerns?”

“No—none.” Jason tried to contain his excitement.

Augere selected and removed one of the silver chains from his wrist. He slid the fleur de lis and the chain across the desk toward Jason. “As you leave, take these and have the new item securely and permanently attached to this chain.”

He was being dismissed and given a task to do. And he was fine with that. It was all good.

No, it was better than good. He exited the library with joyful exuberance.

“Venice! Redlyn was absolutely right—I’m going to Italy!”

Chapter 15

Venice

The travel arrangements kept changing.

Augere had originally planned to fly to London, spend a day there and then go to Lisbon, presumably for a business matter, and then on to Venice. But he decided to take the QE2 to Southampton instead, leaving several days before Jason. He would spend a night in London before traveling on to Venice where they would meet at the designated hotel. Then the two would go on to Paris with a final stop in London before returning home.

Jason was having difficulty making a reservation for them at one of the hotels Augere had requested in the London area. “The Crown and Crescent,” apparently located in an area of land that contained a nature preserve and was only accessible by boat or footpath, could not be found. It had been a well-known venue at one time for numerous rock groups in the ’60s and ’70s. Augere had provided an old faded piece of paper with general information about the place. However the number now appeared to be disconnected. Jason was at a loss. He did not want to screw this up. He wanted Augere to know he was more than capable of handling these kinds of details. He had anxiously gotten up before dawn to place an early morning call to the London visitor’s center to speak to someone in person regarding hotel information.

“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.

By the time they exited the gondola, after gliding along the canal itself and seeing aspects of Venetian life as it could only be seen from that vantage point, it was already growing dark. It was their last evening in Venice. Jason expected Augere would want to be rid of him now, off to enjoy the pleasures of Venice on his own. He imagined Augere meeting up with friends. It would be others tonight and not himself who shared a relaxed evening in Augere’s company.

As if sensing Jason’s disappointment, Augere said to him, “Perhaps, unless you have other plans, you would agree to accompany me? I enjoy walking cities at night. There is quite a different ambience then.”

Jason didn’t want to appear too eager. He nodded slowly, delighted at the prospect. First they stopped to enjoy a glass of wine, and then another, at a very tiny and very charming bar. Augere seemed to be well known there. Either that, or it was just a remarkably friendly place.

Afterward, Augere led him, at a comfortable and a leisurely pace, through the darkened streets, confident of his sense of direction.

They began to cross a large bridge and Jason asked if they might pause there briefly. “Unless you want to go on—I don’t want to keep you.”

“I will wait,” Augere replied. “Is something wrong?”

“No. I just wanted to linger here a while. There is so much history here, and I feel a deep sense of mystery everywhere. It’s just that this is my last evening in Venice, and I’m not eager for it to end. I read if you stand on one of these bridges, stand very quietly, at night, for a while, you might have the sensation of someone brushing past you, or touching your hand or cheek lightly…but there would be no one there that you could see.”

Augere glanced briefly around him, at the things unseen by Jason, clearly visible to him. Some of these were things others probably would not ever want to see and Augere often wished he didn’t see them either. At least he could quickly banish them when he wanted to. But there was no other living being in the area. It was peaceful and quiet with the moonlight shining on the dark water.

Augere indulged in several moments of private thought about his previous visits to Venice. At least ten times or more for Carnivale, between 1870 and 1895; then at least once a year from 1922 to 1928. Maintained a residence here throughout all of 1948. Then probably two dozen times or more from 1960 on…Jason stood for several minutes without moving or speaking, and then crossed to the other side of the bridge and did the same thing, lingering there for a while. Augere stood close by, behind Jason and off to one side. Jason stood gazing silently out over the moonlit canal.

“I was hoping to have some kind of paranormal experience.” Jason sighed. “I swear I can feel a supernatural presence—right here—and it’s almost as if I could reach out and touch it.”

Jason did not witness Augere take an involuntary step backward.

“One should be cautious about what one wishes for.”

Jason turned to him with a shrug.

“Shall we go now?” Augere asked.

Jason nodded slowly and they resumed their late night stroll back to the hotel.

Chapter 16

Paris

The next morning Jason had the hotel-provided breakfast in the small, elegantly appointed dining room. Crisp white linen table cloths were the only thing that did not seem derived from the Renaissance period as he enjoyed a simple breakfast. From somewhere nearby church bells tolled, a sound that seemed vaguely sad to him, as he lavished butter on soft bread rolls. He had slices of meat and cheese to accompany this and found he was quite liking the European style breakfast. He leisurely drank coffee and took a sweet roll with it.

A short flight took them to Paris. Though Jason was particularly excited to visit the City of Light, he had been thoroughly enjoying Venice, and he now felt sad to be leaving. As if echoing his mood, Augere made the comment, “One is always a little sad to leave Venice.” Jason readily agreed.

They checked into the St. Germain Hotel on St. Sulpice, which was, as it turned out, close to several of the places Jason most wanted to see on the left bank. The décor was sumptuous, with dark woods and a red, black and white color scheme, and a charming inner courtyard. It was a perfect place to stay.

It was more or less agreed they would be on their own. “I get to try out my rusty French,” Jason stated. “And since you’ve been to Paris before, I’m sure you won’t want to see and do the same things I do.”

“Except the museums, perhaps,” Augere stated, much to Jason’s surprise. “The Musee d’Orsay and l’Orangerie. You may wish to see those as well.”

Was Jason being invited to accompany him? He nodded with enthusiasm in case he was.

They parted and Jason freshened up before going out to have dinner. He had planned on a tour for the evening.

He had decided to accept that he was, after all, a tourist, and that it was quite acceptable for him to do all the touristy things. Tonight he would take a cruise on the Seine, to get a feel for the city from that vantage point and enjoy the nighttime illumination. Afterward he strolled the streets in the vicinity of the hotel.

He returned late that night, weary but contented. He stopped in the hotel bar to have a drink, and to see if perhaps Augere had had the same idea. But there was no sign of him.

The hotel provided a wonderful breakfast of strong coffee, juice, fruits, meat and cheeses, as well as flaky buttery croissants, which he enjoyed with apricot jam. He checked to see if there might be any message from Augere before he left the hotel, then he started out on his pre-planned itinerary.

He found the subway as easy to use as Boston’s. He climbed the North Tower at Notre Dame and took photos of the gargoyles and the sprawling city below. Next he visited the Ile St. Louis; Shakespeare and Company bookstore; then Montmartre and Sacre Coeur; the Champs Elysee. He wanted to visit some of the famous cafes and stopped at La Rotonde as much to soak up the atmosphere as well as enjoy the food.

He wrote out a few postcards to send home to himself, and some to Zavi and to his family. Though it was a somewhat cool and crisp day, he decided to sit outside the café to enjoy the fresh air as he sipped a glass of wine, totally absorbed in thought for the next postcard. A very attractive woman, dressed casually in jeans, a clingy sweater and bulky knit scarf, with long blonde hair, worn partly up and partly falling in tousled waves, paused suddenly at his table and then leaned into him and kissed his lips. “Your sweet expression and those kissable lips—I just could not resist,” she said in French as she gaily laughed and then continued on her way, leaving Jason pleasantly stunned.

“Yeah.” He breathed after a moment. “I am really, really liking it here.” Now he had something even more exciting and different to write on his own postcard.

He made the journey to Pere LaChaise cemetery and spent some time there. He was very disappointed no organized ghost tours were offered in Paris at this time of year, so he basically made up his own. He did some EVP sessions with his digital voice recorder, and remembered to ask questions in both French and English, as he toured the cemetery and older parts of the city. Along his walks he took lots of photos of the architecture and street scenes, trying to capture the colors and charms of Paris.

He used his French phrase book to supplement what he knew. His French tended to improve the more he forced himself to use it. He wasn’t quite fluent enough to catch every word in conversations around him, but he found it was getting easier to think and respond in French as he went along.

Exhausted but happy he arrived back at the hotel at a late hour. He lay in bed thinking about the wonderful day he had and looking forward to the next. He was so grateful for this trip, but found himself wondering why Augere would pay for him to be here, yet have no real need for him. Not that he saw room to complain. His presence may have been superfluous as far as Augere was concerned, but Jason didn’t mind. Augere must be in his element here. He probably had friends he could visit; no doubt he had his own agenda planned out.

The next day’s plans included a visit to the Louvre. And a great deal of walking. Jason tried to pace himself and he found inviting cafes with tempting pastries and a spot to rest for a while. He invariably indulged a little too much. But, he reasoned, he was on vacation in Paris, and the indulgences simply could not be helped. Everywhere, it seemed, he found an excuse to stop for something to eat: the stalls at Les Halles, a meal at Le Coupole, a drink and a snack at Deux Magots; he succumbed to Le Dalloyou, a marvelously light textured praline cake filled with almond meringue, so fragile it had to be consumed on the spot. All these good things made him remember a line—he thought perhaps attributed to Francoise Sagan: “Il y a des choses qui sont delicieuses a Paris et pas d’ailleurs.” He could not agree more: There are certain delicious things that are found only in Paris and nowhere else.

Jason held off going to the two museums Augere had mentioned, just in case he would accompany him there. The invitation had been somewhat vague but Jason remained hopeful.

In preparation for the trip he had done some research on goth related places in Paris. He had a list of several he wanted to try to find: gothic themed sites, as well as clothing and accessory shops, and some bars that served absinthe. Now that he had tasted it, he wanted to try absinthe here where it had once been quite popular. He did manage to find some of the interesting shops, but many of the goods, though exquisite, were rather expensive. Gothic items—for rich people? One of the bars he sought out had apparently closed. He wasn’t having much luck overall. He did find one bar, apparently a popular place, but it was sedate and nearly empty at the hour he chose to visit. Perhaps he was there too early in the evening.

He would almost bet Augere knew places to go. It seemed so obvious to him he and Augere shared gothic sensibilities, a taste and appreciation for those kinds of fashions and interests. Even at the beginning, when he had passed the job screening, he had been told by Genier, presumably speaking for Augere, that his style of dress was acceptable. Augere had acknowledged it, though not identifying it as gothic especially. But this was never mentioned between them. It was becoming a source of frustration for Jason: one more common interest they could share that could bring them closer, but even that door was closed.

Maybe I just need to draw him out, Jason thought. Speak out about his obvious gothic tendencies and see where that goes. We share other similar interests—so where is the harm in that?

It was nearly 10:00 p.m. and Jason was already feeling tired from a full day. He decided to try to find the absinthe bar closest to the hotel. It was still seven metro stops and a several block walk, according to his map, but he was determined to go. He wanted to make the most of his time in Paris.

He liked the look of the place immediately, and a favorite song was playing as he walked in: Sweet, by Switchblade Symphony. Part gothy hangout; part plush wine bar. The dominant colors here were blood red and black, with purple and grey accents here and there; red glass covered sconces on the walls were in a style reminiscent of art deco, and candlelit tables which provided soft intimate lighting were placed randomly. Plush velvet banquette seating areas lined two of the walls. Small black framed ornate mirrors and darkly romantic and grotesquely beautiful artwork, probably local talent Jason guessed, occupied scattered areas of the rest of the wall space. A lot of little decorative touches delighted the senses, including red rose shaped glass knobs on the doors to the bathroom facilities. The place had a more upscale look than any goth themed bar he had ever seen, yet it still had a welcoming coziness to it. The bar itself was a large beautifully carved dark wooden structure with graciously curved grey bar stools in front of it.

The dozen or so patrons present represented a gamut of attire and aesthetics ranging from punk and old school goth, to Victorian with a little steampunk variation as well. A young guy with a blue Mohawk and an excessively thin body covered in black leather and chains was showing off his prosthetic fangs to an admiring young girl who was apparently attempting a Siouxsie Sioux affect.

Jason walked up to the bar and took a seat on one of the grey leather upholstered stools.

“Bon soir.” The fiftyish bartender greeted him with a warm smile. He had several piercings in both ears and in one eyebrow. Dressed in all black attire, he had longish dark hair that was thinning slightly and a small neatly trimmed goatee. Jason guessed his own gothy attire and few jewelry accessories had probably made him a little more welcome here. In any case he felt at home. “Bon soir,” Jason replied with a nod.

“Suisse?…Italien?” the bartender was asking him.

“Americain.” Jason figured out the odd question, and replied. The bartender nodded.

“La question la plus important ce soir: vous etes humains ou le vampire?”

Jason gave him a blank look. The bartender smiled a little. “Humain ou vampire?” he repeated more slowly.

It took Jason a few moments to translate. He wished he’d been quicker to figure it out, and more fluent in French to come up with a better reply. All he could do was shrug and smile. He was being asked if he was Human or Vampire. He thought he might have replied “Indecis.” Undecided. But then, he thought, It’s odd, that I would answer that way. Almost as a general reference and not just applying that to himself.

The bartender shrugged and smiled also. “J’attendais une compagnie humaine. Je crois que j’ai vu assez de vampires pour ce soir.” I’ve been hoping for some human company. I think I have seen enough of vampires tonight, Jason mentally translated. He nodded with a small smile, then glanced at the small group standing and sitting not too far from the bar. He could catch a little of their conversation. English. British accents. Then he glanced back at the bartender. He assumed he had meant the present company.

“Que voulez vous boire monsieur?”

Jason was too tired to struggle with the language, much as he wanted to. “Je parle un petite peu de francais—” Jason began in halting French, giving it his best.

The bartender nodded, with a knowing look.

“—je voudrais l’absinthe—qu’est-ce que vous recommendez? Je ne sais pas quoi commander…”

“I speak English—a little,” the bartender replied, his English heavily accented. “Absinthe—you drink before?”

Jason nodded hesitantly.

“Nous avons vingt-cinq pour choisier…je vous recommanderai plusiers et vous pouvez en choisir alors?”

Jason nodded. There were twenty-five to choose from. He would recommend several and Jason could choose. Seemed like a good idea. The bartender showed Jason several bottles and made a few comments, most of it in French with a few English words thrown in, about each. Jason looked the five bottles over. It was still hard to choose. He asked for several minutes to decide. The bartender nodded and left to serve a couple who had just entered and walked up to the bar. When he returned to Jason, he gave an approving nod to Jason’s attire and made the comment:

“J’aime ca. Les vetements.” He made a gesture which Jason took to mean, not too much, just enough. Jason nodded in acknowledgment.

“Ceux—la bas”—the bartender nodded toward several of the more outrageously overdone patrons at the other end of the bar—“ils font semblant d’etre des vampires.” They only pretend to be vampires. Jason nodded, translating for himself, hoping he had gotten that right.

“Mais je vous dirai quelque chose…” But I will tell you something…

“…je crois que les vampires existent vraiment.”

He believes that vampires really do exist. Jason found that an interesting thought.

“Croyez-vous qu’ils existent vraiment?” The bartender asked for his opinion on the subject.

Jason paused to consider his reply. “I don’t know if they really do exist or not. But I would think not. Highly unlikely.” He replied in hesitant French and then he shook his head no in answer to the bartender’s question.

The bartender held up one finger. Then he began to prepare a small glass of absinthe, skillfully rendering the drink just as Jason had seen Augere do. “Gratuit, pour gouter,” the bartender said, pouring a small sample into a shot glass and placing it in front of him. Free, for tasting, he had said. It was quite good. Jason did not have a lot of experience to compare it with, however. Really he had only the excellent absinthe he had sampled with Augere. And he thought it unlikely that particular one would be readily available to order. The bartender left to wait on several more newly arrived customers.

Jason savored the absinthe. And he was suddenly curious why the bartender believed vampires really did exist. “It’s probably a joke. One I won’t get.”

When the bartender returned again Jason had finished the sample and he selected a different one to try.

“Excellent,” the bartender stated.

“Well, might as well have excellent.”

The bartender expertly repeated the ritual and served Jason another small sample to drink.

“Pendant que vous prenez le temps et appreciez l’absinthe, voulez-vous entendre une histoire tres interessante?” The bartender was asking if he wanted to hear an interesting story while he enjoyed his absinthe. Sure. Why not.

He was liking the ambience of this place, and the taste of the absinthe. He was in no hurry to be elsewhere. The bartender waited for Jason to take a sip. “Tres bien,” Jason announced. He pointed to his glass. “Ca, c’est mon choix.” The bartender gave him the rest of the already prepared drink in a tall glass.

As he prepared a concoction for another customer, the bartender began telling his story using as much English as he could, but the bulk of it was still in French. Jason struggled with the translation. Apparently this man only worked at this bar part time, to help out a friend when it got very busy or the friend was on vacation. He paused to make sure Jason understood. So far, he did.

But, nearly thirty years ago, in 1984 when he was a student, he worked at a different bar. Back before absinthe was legal again in Paris, in 1989—he said it was known by only a small number of people that a small secret supply of absinthe, of a very rare vintage, from around 1910—La Belle Epoque—was kept on hand at the bar where he worked. “Vous comprenez?” Yes, I understand, Jason told him.

“Much better, quite different than what you could get today.” He nodded at Jason’s drink. “It was a limited supply—for select customers only. And only those who knew enough to ask for it. Most people did not. The secret was so old, nearly forgotten. And the absinthe was locked away in a secret cabinet.” Jason had trouble with several of the words, but the bartender substituted words until he was sure Jason got the meaning. “The man who owns this bar now was then the younger brother of that other bar owner.” At least that was what Jason thought he said.

“One evening—I remember it distinctly—it was a summer evening—a young man came into the bar and sat at the counter.

“La premiere pensee—il est trop jeune pour boire d’alcool.” My first thought, Jason easily translated, and he was too young to be drinking alcohol. “He was pale, tall and thin,” the bartender continued.

“Il etait ‘tres beau’ pour un homme; sensual; complet de sexualite mais comme un petit garcon a la fois, avec une visage…innocente.” Jason got the gist of it. The bartender took pains to explain, but some of it was difficult to translate easily into English. Though not attracted to men in that way, he explained, he could not help but be taken by the truly beautiful appearance, like when one is suddenly surprised and overcome by an exquisitely beautiful sight. Jason could only nod. He was feeling a little strange. Perhaps it was the effects of the absinthe. “De voie son corps a bouge…c’est difficile a expliquer…” Jason had trouble translating this, and so did the bartender. Something about how his body moved, it seemed…the bartender could not easily express it, could only convey it was quite out of the ordinary.

Jason sipped at the excellent absinthe. The bartender was totally caught up in his story. To some extent Jason was also, if only because the bartender seemed so eager to tell it. And why is he so eager? Jason wondered.

“As I said, he was quite pale,” the bartender continued, most of his story spoken in French still, with a few scattered English words. “His hair was long and very dark. His eyes I remember most: an extraordinary color! Not so much blue as a deep and vibrant shade of violet. You could not forget those eyes.” The bartender’s own voice became distant and softer, almost as if speaking to himself, as he was remembering the rest.

“He spoke French beautifully of course; mais tres doucement—very soft and low, and he was clearly French.” Jason had some difficulty translating this, but, somehow, he knew just what the bartender had meant to say.

“And he asked for a rare vintage of absinthe. Well of course we had it! I didn’t know it for sure; I remember I glanced at the owner, who gave me a nod and said, yes it is okay, give it to him. I remember the owner stood apart, across the room—” the words were coming in a rush and Jason was getting the sense of it, if not each and every word precisely. “…I remember thinking it was very strange; the owner seemed to be a little afraid of him.”

Jason sipped at his absinthe again. It really was very good. Maybe almost as good as the one he had enjoyed with Augere that evening in Boston…

“Et je vous dit Monsieur—cet homme—je crois qu’il est un vampire reel.” He was saying now he believed the person he saw was a real vampire.

That’s it? Jason wondered. That’s his story? Did I miss something along the way? I must have misunderstood or didn’t translate enough of it accurately. What a letdown.

Jason shrugged. Just for that? “Pour ca, c’est tout?” Jason said to him, hoping he did not come across as sounding rude. Somehow he had expected a bigger finish.

The bartender revealed a small slow smile as he shook his head slowly. Then he laughed, somewhat nervously, and shook his head again. “Ah, non, Monsieur. Pas du tout. Pas pour ca.” He poured a little more of the already prepared absinthe into Jason’s nearly empty glass. “That is not why I believe what I do.

“Non. Je le crois parce que, ce soir, il y a deux heures, un jeune home est entree dans le bar”—he then pointed to the bar stools —“et il s’est assis la.” He indicated a seat two places from where Jason now sat.

Several new customers had now entered the bar. The bartender shrugged. “Apres le cinema, tout le monde ont soif.” He raised his index finger to Jason, a sign he needed to pause his story. He left to wait on the new crowd. Jason felt a little light headed now. It could be the absinthe. He really was enjoying it though.

“To continue,” the bartender returned and began again. “Cet homme ce soir: Tall, thin et tres beau—very, uhm, good—attractive. Long dark hair. Et la peau, tres—blanc, tu sais? Yes, pale.” He nodded then motioned to his own clothing. “Noir, comme ca. And the color—ses yeux—the eyes…pouvez-vous diviner?”

Jason was feeling a little uncomfortable with the conversation just then, and might have been more so if it wasn’t for the absinthe, making him feel quite mellow just now.

“…oui, that same intense and unusual color. Exactly as I remembered…deep violet.” The bartender was nodding slowly as he pronounced the words, most of them in French still, but Jason was able to translate much of it easily. The words he didn’t quite catch, he somehow understood even so.

Jason took a bigger sip of the absinthe. He imagined he must be feeling the full effects now. A strange sensation: a feeling of pleasantly drifting. He wasn’t actively trying to hear the bartender’s words now, but it was impossible not to listen. He could even understand more of the French words now as the man continued.

“The same exact voice, Monsieur. Speaking perfect French. Everything exactly the same as before. Déjà vu.” The bartender waited until Jason was looking into his eyes.

“He looked exactly the way I remembered. Not one day older. No change at all.” Jason understood the French perfectly.

“Well,” Jason began, “that is quite a coincidence. The man must have been the son of the man you met decades ago.” He hoped he was translating accurately. “An amazing resemblance, easily explained. Such things”—what was the French word for coincidences—did he get it right?—“do happen.”

“Ah, oui?” The bartender said with a small smile. “Devinez qu’est-ce qu’il a commande a boire ce-soir—?”

Jason stared at him. He had been asked to guess what the stranger had ordered.

The bartender stepped aside to reveal a padlocked glass cabinet behind the bar. Jason could barely get a view of several dusty looking bottles within, but not the names or labels.

“C’etait la meme chose, encore. Il faut que j’ai trouver la cle, pour lui. Ca, c’est la meme cabinet, comme d’autrefois. La meme absinthe…”

Jason nodded slowly in understanding. The stranger ordered the same thing as had been ordered so long ago. From this same cabinet. The bartender had had to find the key.

“Et,” the bartender continued, “on a une seringue hypodermique, pour preserver l’integrite des contenus de la bouteille.” Fascinating, Jason thought, once he was reasonably sure he had interpreted correctly. They would draw out a small amount of the absinthe, with a syringe, through the sealed bottle stopper, just enough for a serving, to preserve the integrity of the original contents.

“Il savait ou se trouve cette absinthe.” The bartender waited to see Jason’s reaction.

“Deux cent quatre-vingt-dix euros, Monsieur, pour une verre. Il n’a pas meme cligne de l’oeil au prix et il a paye comptant.”

Jason did a quick conversion as well as translation in his head. Around $350 for one glass; the stranger not only knew this absinthe existed, he knew where to find it. He did not even blink an eye at the price and he paid cash.

Jason sipped at his absinthe again.

“I am quite convinced,” the bartender assured him, “that it was exactly the same man I saw about thirty years ago. Exactement la meme homme. Comme j’ai dit: deja vue. And I do believe he is real vampire. Et la meme comme vous, sur son poignet—”

Jason did not get to hear the rest of that comment. A new customer came up to the bar, and then two more. The bartender was occupied briefly, preparing more drinks.

When the bartender returned, he had apparently forgotten his previous comment. He observed what must have been Jason’s still dubious expression.

“Je m’en souviens. That evening, in 1984—that first time I saw him—I asked the owner of the bar…he was already an old man then…I asked him about the strange young man. At first he would say nothing. But then later he told me he had left Paris early in 1940. And then he said he had seen this same stranger before, near the end of 1939.”

Jason could only stare at him. He hadn’t gotten all of it; the years mentioned, in particular. The bartender wrote down the years on a napkin and then waited for this information to be acknowledged by Jason’s facial expression. Jason slowly and hesitantly nodded.

The bartender shrugged. “I suppose I did not fully believe what he told me then. That the young man who had entered the bar that evening in 1984 had also come to his bar in 1939. That he looked exactly the same though forty-five years had passed. In 1939 when that mysterious young stranger came in and said he wanted some of the absinthe the bartender got it for him from the locked cabinet. Then the young stranger said the Germans were coming and they would occupy Paris. The bartender, who was twenty-six at the time, was worried about the war. The stranger said to him: ‘you need to leave Paris, now. And you should take the absinthe too. Do not let the Germans have it.’ And then he smiled at him. He gave the owner a large sum of money. The owner, who was Jewish, was able then to take his entire family and leave Paris before the German occupation in June of 1940.”

The bartender paused and his face bore a distant, preoccupied expression. Jason sipped his drink, watching the bartender’s face.

“Je l’ai jamais vraiment cru.” All these years, I guess I just did not really believe him. Even though I saw with my own eyes what he saw. “Mais pas avant ce soir.” But not until tonight did I truly believe it.

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?

Then Augere, who had been standing beside him, spoke sharply to the woman in French; Jason did not catch the meaning of his words, and she made no reply. The words alone seemed to have been sufficient to convey his message, but the cutting tone of his voice certainly had made his point even more clearly. It even made Jason shiver a little. She immediately took Jason’s money and allowed them to enter. So much for Augere being emotionally fragile or being less than capable of handling a situation.

They descended 130 steps into the cool and slightly damp darkness. Jason had brought a small flashlight and his eyes slowly adjusted to the gloom. He gazed all around him. What first appeared to be stone walls were in fact piles of various kinds of bones. Some of these were artfully arranged in recognizable patterns or symbols. Skulls, perched at all different angles, greeted them everywhere they looked.

Jason began taking photos without flash, using just the flashlight to illuminate the scenes. This helped to create a ghastly glow that contributed to the overall creepiness of the setting and the images he captured. It managed to creep Jason out at the same time as he found it fascinating.

He was totally absorbed for the next ten minutes or so, walking along passageways, pausing to discreetly touch objects here and there. Finally, he remembered Augere. Where was he?

Jason found him, strangely enough, well ahead of him in one of the larger openings in the passageways. Augere stood toward the center of the space, arms folded across his chest, and was wrinkling his nose with a look of dismay, when Jason spotted him. “Are you doing okay?” Jason asked, as he approached.

Augere nodded once.

“But do you want to leave now?” Jason asked.

Augere shrugged one shoulder. “We have time,” he said softly.

They spent an hour or so wandering the Catacombs. Augere seemed to relax more as they went on. Jason was amused to see him bend to gaze intently for an interval at one of the skulls in particular, as if recognizing an old acquaintance. Finally they looked at each other with matching expressions: we’re done.

Jason had done an EVP session while down there and had taken many photos, realizing that after a while, all the photos looked pretty much the same. Still, he was quite happy with the experience. Definitely a gothic adventure, and a unique one.

“Did you enjoy your experience this time?” Jason asked him. Augere had said he had been here before.

Augere shrugged. “Far more than the last time, for certain. I got lost here for nearly two days.” Jason could only stare at him, his mouth slightly agape. “The passages go on and on, quite extensive and rather grim, dark and narrow.” He simply had to be joking about being lost down here for that long. I would have lost my mind, Jason thought. Two days alone in the darkness with all of these remains? They would have found a raving lunatic with my hair gone totally white, like some poor character in a horror movie. He gave Augere a solemn nod, sure he was just joking with him. Augere retained his solemn expression.

They took a taxi back to the hotel to collect their things, and then headed to the train station. The Chunnel, another new adventure, awaited Jason. As much as he had loved Paris, he was now excited to be going to London. Everything about this trip kept getting better and better.

No travel I will ever take will ever be as memorable, as totally unforgettable, as this trip.

Chapter 17

London

Once they got to the train station, Augere upgraded their Eurostar tickets to premiere class; it seemed rather expensive to Jason, but when he saw they had extra space, more comfort and privacy, he was glad for the change. Apparently, the price also included taxi fare to their destination once they arrived in London.

The hotel Genier had chosen, once he learned Augere’s first choice had not been available, surprised Jason. It was nice enough; there were no elevators, but their rooms were on the second floor, so it was not a huge problem. The rooms were decent sized and nicely, if a bit formally, decorated with a grey marble bathroom being the most modern feature. Mostly the location surprised him. He had envisioned something centrally located, in the heart of London. They were in Richmond Hill, which seemed pretty remote to Jason.

Their rooms overlooked Richmond Park, a huge sprawling wild preserve that apparently was home to herds of deer, as well as foxes, geese, and rabbits.

A pleasant pastoral setting, but not exactly the kinds of things Jason wanted to see on his first visit to London. Still, their rooms, which were side by side, featured an excellent view of the park setting and the town beyond. Plans had been made to attend a theatre performance in the West End. There was barely time to change or get a quick meal. The distance into town, according to the hotel desk clerk, was 45 minutes by underground. A taxi would take them into London, however. Augere urged Jason to walk into the town to get dinner. The taxi would pick them up there. He suggested Jason might like The Rose restaurant. Jason was not surprised when Augere declined his invitation to join him for dinner—when does he ever eat? he wondered yet again—but Augere stated he would meet him there for a drink.

Jason decided he could use the walk into town after the Chunnel trip and now the upcoming theatre performance. It was at least a twenty-minute walk, but he found it worthwhile. He got a chance to get oriented to his surroundings. Not that they would be here long. It was already Thursday evening, and they would be leaving on Sunday evening. He was determined to make the best use of his time in London.

The restaurant was charming. He immediately liked the eclectic feel of it; the black furnishings and the rose theme which carried over into much of the décor. Elegant chandeliers combined with a kind of shabby chic feel that was charming. A classy but homey feel. The menu was somewhat pricey; he could afford it, but he opted for just starters and a cocktail, keeping an eye on the time. He took discreet photos of the place, walking around to get different angles. As he sat and waited for the food, sampling a pomegranate Bellini, he realized today was Thanksgiving. It seemed so strange to be in such an unfamiliar place, on a meaningful holiday that meant nothing here. Just a few days in London, and then it was back to work on Monday. Oh, wait, he laughed to himself, I AM at work. Never mind. He laughed again.

Augere soon arrived and immediately ordered a Pinot Blanc Dom Lucien, 2007; as if he knew their stock.

“I believe you said—you lived in London, right? When was that?” Jason asked him.

Augere fixed him with that studious gaze Jason had come to know so well by now.

“It has been a few years since.” Augere replied after several moments. He broke eye contact then and took a sip of his wine, gazing around the room as if interested in details of the décor.

“It seems to agree with you. Being back here.” Jason stated, noting a little more color to Augere’s pale skin; the brighter, more vibrant violet blue of his eyes now.

“Ready.” Augere stated, with a glance at Jason’s empty plate. Jason had only a few sips of his drink left.

“But you haven’t finished your wine,” Jason observed.

Augere was on his feet already. He lifted his glass of wine and downed all the rest.

Augere went to pay the bill and included Jason’s portion as well. Jason protested.

“It isn’t necessary for you to get that. I have a good job—I’m decently paid.” Jason smiled.

Augere actually appeared a little flustered. As if he did not know how to respond.

“I don’t want to appear ungrateful,” Jason stated, sensing Augere’s discomfort. “It’s just—all of this”—he made an open handed gesture, meant to include all Augere was responsible for providing beyond the simple meal—“is much more than I could have expected.”

To his surprise he found the taxi had been waiting for them outside. They climbed into the warmth of the cab and settled in for the ride into London.

Jason wondered if he had offended Augere. It troubled him to think so. Augere was gazing out his window as Jason stole a glance at him. In those few moments Jason suddenly felt the sense of seeing Augere for the first time, though this was a phenomenon he experienced frequently. As if he were a total stranger who suddenly found himself in close, nearly intimate proximity in a small confined space with this person. Without having a conscious desire to do so, Jason’s attention was fully focused and receptive to all minute details about Augere. Coming in from the cold crisp air outside into the sudden warmth of the cab had released a scent of leather from Augere’s coat. A woodsy, earthy clean scent surrounded him, at once masculine and a vaguely, somewhat exotically floral mixed with the leather scent; rather pleasant and heady. Jason took a quick glance at the delicate features in profile: the straight classic nose and the finely rounded lips of an ivory statue come to life. The dark full waves of his hair, falling forward over his forehead and toward his cheeks. Jason could not help his response to all of this. Alluring, engaging his senses and inviting his attention, all involuntarily; as disquieting as it was mesmerizing and somewhat intoxicating. Jason wanted to look away, but he could not. What is wrong with me? What is the nature of this compelling force that pulls me to him; a force that seems overwhelming and devoid of any personal volition?

They rode in silence for a mile or two. Jason forced his attention out his window, trying to take in the scenery that rolled by. But his attention remained fixed on Augere even so. How am I going to sit next to him for several hours in the theatre? Just how am I going to do that? The sudden intensity of these feelings left him physically drained as he struggled with his emotions.

He already recognized a somewhat androgynous aspect about Augere. Perhaps that caused him confusion and affected his feelings. Maybe it had even troubled him that he did not find this uncomfortable for him. But even that did not explain why he was so drawn to the man; could not account for the intensity of emotion or focus of attention; it still did not explain all of that.

All right, what are you saying here? He had to ask himself. I know I don’t have those kinds of feelings for him. If it WAS sexual, I’m secure enough about my sexuality, and my preferences, to be able to acknowledge that to myself. I would be able to say—okay, I am curious and I feel he is someone with whom I would feel comfortable exploring those feelings. But it isn’t that. I am sure of it. He thought about his previous sexual encounters and his present feelings toward Zavi. There was definitely a strong attraction there. No question of that. Besides, there is the fact that Augere is my boss. Even if I felt I could act on my feelings, IF I was totally clear that this was what I was feeling, it still would never be appropriate or acceptable to act on them, certainly not while we have a work relationship.

No. This was something else; something on a more visceral and primitive level he felt powerless to resist. That was what was so troubling; and why he had difficulty acknowledging it until now. If it was just a physical attraction, it would not be this disconcerting. It would just be—that. This was not as simple as lust, nor as complex and complicated as love. But somehow, it was just as powerful as both.

Jason needed distraction. He could not continue this line of thought just now.

“Do you have some suggestions on how I should spend my time in London?” he asked Augere. His voice sounded, but did not feel, calm to him. The question was somewhat lame, but it would have to do.

Augere seemed to reflect for a few moments. “Decide what interests you most and spend at least some time there. Try to vary your experience but do not attempt too many museums. Try to make whatever you do enjoyable and be satisfied.”

Well, that did sound like practical and excellent advice. Jason thanked him.

“Perhaps you could, if you find the time, help me with a situation.”

Jason looked at him with surprise. “Sure, if I can.”

“I have a standing bet with an acquaintance and I would very much like to win. If you get to spend any time with the queen, try to find out exactly what she carries in her handbag.” Augere was looking at him with a solemn expression.

“Her…handbag,” Jason repeated with a questioning look. “The….queen…?”

“Yes. She always carries one with her. You must endeavor to learn the contents.”

Jason nodded uncertainly.

Augere continued. “The speculations so far: Keys to the castle. Well, yes, of course. And tissues. A small tin of mints is likely. A spare crown, for emergencies, perhaps.”

Jason got it, and began to laugh out loud.

“I would imagine she carries some currency also,” Augere continued in all seriousness, and his quietly calm voice made the content that much more absurd, “in case she needs to get a bite to eat or to stop and pick up a few grocery items or something for the house. More than likely though, we believe she would use the currency as a form of identification: should she need to provide ID she merely needs to hold up paper bill or coin for quick comparison to her features.”

By this time the taxi driver was laughing out loud along with Jason, and Augere turned his head to the window with a small smile. Jason wondered aloud if she had a blinged out phone and the taxi driver suggested she would have exclusive queen applications for it.

Jason suggested she probably carried business cards that said simply “The Queen. Buckingham Palace. England.”

“As do her checks,” Augere replied with a nod.

They continued to laugh and speculate further during the rest of the ride. Jason had never seen Augere in such a relaxed, playful and amusing mood, and he was thoroughly enjoying this. They arrived at their destination and the cab driver pronounced it one of his most enjoyable fares ever.

They were mesmerized by the stage production of The Woman in Black. Allen Genier had gotten the theater tickets for them and Jason became fully engrossed in the ghostly atmosphere. It seemed the perfect way to begin a London adventure and the well presented tragic ghost story would remain with him always.

They stopped for a drink in the hotel bar when they got back. Jason discreetly tried to find out Augere’s plans for the next day. Augere would say only that he had plans to meet up with “an acquaintance.” They left it at that.

The next morning Jason stretched lazily in bed, rolled over and buried half of his face in his pillow. He felt rested but the bed was so comfortable he wanted to linger a while longer. He dozed for a brief time, and then finally rolled over and pushed himself off of the bed. He opted to go into town for better breakfast options and to be close to the train station into London.

He had decided to do a half day city tour by coach. It would give him a nice overview, and save on some of the walking. Then he would stop at the Victoria and Albert museum and he planned to shop for a while. After a relaxing dinner, he planned to do the Jack the Ripper tour, then hit a pub or two, preferably some haunted ones, to round out the evening.

He ran into Augere in Richmond and Augere asked his plans. Jason filled him in with brief details. Augere stated he had a taxi coming to pick him up at the hotel. He invited Jason to share it with him. Otherwise he risked being late for his scheduled tour, which would pick him up in the West End. Jason agreed and they walked back to the hotel together. Augere had to return to his room to gather some things. Jason opted to sit in the lobby to wait. He chose a plush chair behind a large pillar near the reception area, unseen by the staff at the desk, but from a vantage where he would be able to observe Augere enter the lobby. Jason occupied himself with a left behind newspaper while he waited and he overheard a conversation between two of the hotel staff.

“How was your holiday? Did you have good weather?”

“Oh, yes. A great time to visit Las Vegas. And I actually won some money!”

“You’re joking! Seriously!? That’s fantastic! I’m hoping to get there someday. Catherine and I are always talking about going to places like that.”

“So, anything exciting happening around here while I was gone?”

“Not much. Same old. Oh, they did find another dead deer this morning. A man walking his dog discovered it. He told Robert he thought it still alive at first, until he saw it up close; it hadn’t even started to decompose.”

“Another one? What do you mean?”

“Oh—that’s right. First one happened while you were on holiday. Another one was found about six days ago.”

“Really?…and they just fell over dead, did they?”

“No—no. Something got at them. Their throats were torn—both of them, Robert told us. He saw one of them.”

“Well, there are foxes out there you know.”

“True. But no fox is going to bring down a large deer, in my opinion anyway. They think it could be a stray, a wild dog. There’s concern because both carcasses were found not far from the hotel. They don’t want us to alarm the guests, of course, but we’re told to keep watch and take note of any suspicious animals about, or if anyone reports seeing anything of the kind. It’s a good idea to be extra careful, especially in the car park late at night. You know how dark it can get out there.”

Two dead deer. Within six days. I wonder if I should mention it to Augere? Jason thought. Well, Augere had stopped here at the same hotel, about six days ago, so maybe he had heard of it already. Six days ago…and then again…maybe last night too. Jason’s train of thought was interrupted as he saw Augere approaching.

They rode in the taxi to the center of town, Augere quiet, gazing out the window. Jason gazing out the window also, but his mind preoccupied with other than the scenery.

Augere’s original plans had changed. He had taken the QE2 to London, and had stopped here, had planned a one night stay at this same hotel in fact, before flying on to Venice. Jason supposed he had some business in London. Or perhaps he had just wanted to break up the trip, rest a bit, before continuing on. Rest…after a five day cruise across the ocean? It didn’t mean anything. Jason pushed unwanted thoughts aside. Had Augere needed to do something…was there something he needed before he continued on to Venice? It’s none of your business, Jason, he reminded himself, pushing bizarre conclusions out of his mind. Stop with the crazy thoughts.

The sights and sounds of London kept Jason preoccupied throughout the day. Even his obsession with Augere was temporarily forgotten. After his city tour, he opted to enjoy the London Eye and spent time engrossed with the history of the Tower of London. He wished he had allowed more time for shopping, especially in Portobello Road and Notting Hill. He barely took time for a full meal, but he did have a proper English tea at the appointed hour. He found Camden Market overwhelming and decided right then he needed to come back to London and focus exclusively on all things gothic here. He found a great T-shirt, with the perfect image, which read: “May Great Cthulhu Devour Us Quickly,” which he bought for himself.

He visited several pubs, but began to feel it would be more enjoyable if he had someone to share the experience. He had time for a relaxing meal of bangers and mash before his Jack the Ripper tour, and found the tour quite interesting even though many of the original locations were no longer to be found. He decided to splurge on a taxi back to the hotel due to the lateness of the hour.

He had a full day planned tomorrow. Definitely the Tate Modern this time; he would get to the British Museum in the morning and then he wanted to visit Highgate Cemetery. Later in the evening he had a ghost tour scheduled that included a cruise on the Thames; he thought it an odd combination too but he was really looking forward to it.

He showered once he got to his room. He made himself tea, and was savoring it with some treats he had picked up along the way. He started to get his things ready for the morning. Charging the batteries in his cameras; changing out the SD cards for new ones. He charged extra batteries to bring also. Sometimes paranormal activity tended to drain batteries; he wanted to be ready. He hoped to have some worthy ghostly experiences before he left London. He checked the battery in his digital voice recorder and made sure he had a new one just in case. He turned on the Oracle to make sure the device was working and the battery was good as he continued to get his clothes and items ready for the morning. He also started to repack stuff he wouldn’t be needing for the remainder of the trip. Less to pack later, he reasoned. As the Oracle rested on his bed, it began randomly speaking in its eerie electronic voice:

“…blue…camera……thirteen…” the Oracle spoke. The random words were left to the investigator to interpret the significance, if any, depending on the situation and the location.

“…ocean…energy…blue…sixteen,” the Oracle continued, as Jason listened absently, continuing with tasks he wanted to finish. “…energy…return…(long pause)…home…sixteen… (unintelligible)…” Jason went into the bathroom and returned with unneeded toiletries he wanted to pack. As he emerged from the bathroom he half listened to the Oracle. It seemed to be working okay but best to bring an extra battery along just in case—

“…blood…moon…dark…rosegate…energy…rosegate…sixteen…blood…sixteen”

The words caught his attention and he looked up at the device. He was sure he heard it say words it was not programmed to say. He grabbed a pen and paper and jotted down what he thought he had heard. Then he continued with his tasks.

“…blood…energy…(unintelligible)…(long pause)…moon…male…sixteen…” Jason paused in his tasks again to write down all he heard. It was always interesting when the device repeated the same words often.

“…rosegate…(unintelligible)…energy…ocean…moon…dark…(unintelligible)… return…sixteen…sixteen…blue…lane… home…blood…rosegate…return…vampire…”

Jason stopped now and stared at the device. He wanted to laugh suddenly, inexplicably. He wrote down the words he thought he had heard. It had to have been a mistake. He had to have heard it wrong.

The device was silent for several moments. Long pauses were not unusual. Jason waited, patiently listening.

“…lane…sixteen…(unintelligible)…rosegate…energy…blood…return…lane…sixteen…sixteen… vampire…”

Jason reached over and turned off the device. A sudden chill passed over him.

He dressed and went down to the bar, hoping it was still open. Just one other patron was there. A guy around Jason’s age was tending bar. He greeted Jason with a pleasant smile.

“Have you ever felt,” Jason said to him, “as if the universe was conspiring to nudge you into accepting something…that your mind knows cannot be real?”

The bartender’s smile faded slowly. “No. Not that I can recall, sir.”

Jason nodded. “Hmmmm. Well, can you suggest a beverage that might be suitable for just such an occasion?”

The bartender seemed to be giving this serious consideration. “It is entirely your call, of course, but I should think a cocktail or martini is not going to cover this. I would go with a straight shot.”

“I’m thinking the same thing.” Jason nodded. “Not Scotch—too celebratory. Gin? No, maybe too pedestrian. Not vodka either; I need something different. Do you have any Southern Comfort?”

The bartender did a search among several cabinets with much clinking and rattling going on and triumphantly held up one dusty bottle for Jason to see. “I’m pleased to say, sir, yes, we do.”

“Better make it a double. And can I have a Coke with lime on the side?”

Jason sipped at his drink. It burned a little going down, but in a good way. He sipped at the icy Coke and squeezed the lime wedge into the glass. He stared into space, pushing any thought out of his mind not directly connected to the sensation of the alcohol.

“May I join you?”

He had come out of nowhere. So quietly, so softly spoken that if Jason had not seen his reflection in the mirror behind the bar, he still might not have realized he was standing there.

His reflection. Augere.

Jason quickly turned to look at him. To really, really look at him. With a much more determined purpose than ever.

His pallor. Not just pale. Nearly translucent. Had he not really noticed that distinction, in all this time? The unnatural smoothness of his skin. And those eyes, ever changing. Who had eyes like that? Who owned half a dozen pairs of various colored contacts, that changed from various shades of grey, blue, and violet? And why? He rarely smiled, and even then, just barely. Was that because…people would see…did he really have…but then, how could I not have noticed, if he did? He was pretty sure Augere did not travel with a coffin; THAT would certainly have drawn attention. Then again, I don’t know about his sleeping arrangements back at his inner sanctum. But I am pretty sure he has not asked for a coffin suite in any of the hotels so far. In fact he had glimpsed the insides of Augere’s rooms as they traveled. Just like mine. Normal.

Jason’s thoughts quickly returned to the present moment. He had been asked a question. An answer was expected. He had already rudely paused too long. Was he allowed to say no? Because for once the person standing before him was the last…person…he felt comfortable seeing just now. He nodded slowly, and managed a weak smile. “Of course.” You total wimp, Jason. But how could I refuse?

Augere moved to stand beside him. The bartender approached and Augere dismissed him with a wave of his hand and without a glance. The bartender shot Jason an inquiring look, once he was able to take his eyes off Augere. Before Jason could catch his eye, the bartender had moved away to the end of the bar and did not look at them again.

“How was your day?” Augere asked, in a flat tone that suggested he really was not interested in the answer.

“Very, very good.” Jason tried to keep his voice normal. “London is absolutely fabulous.” He meant it, even if his tone and shaky voice suggested otherwise.

“And your plans for tomorrow?” Augere looked at him intently now.

“British Museum. Westminster Abbey. Highgate Cemetery. Ghost tour and Thames River cruise in the evening. After dinner.” Jason recited the itinerary with enthusiasm though his voice sounded tense.

“So many things to do. May I accompany you?”

Jason looked at him. Why now? He could not help but wonder. There was a time, just recently in fact, when he would have jumped at that. Just the thought of being able to spend time with him, and at his own suggestion. But over this past week, so many strange things…so many bizarre ideas had taken hold of him…his mind wasn’t right…he felt so tired and weary just now. And too far from home. Maybe far from sanity too. Could I be losing my mind?

Jason gazed intently into Augere’s eyes. Is it true? Were you one thing…and now you are another? But how could it possibly be? How could such a thing be true?

“Of course, you can. Are you sure you want to?” he heard himself say.

Augere nodded once. “You will want to start early, will you not?”

Jason nodded. It isn’t true. That’s it. It’s not to be believed. And of course he wanted to spend the day with him. He enjoyed his company. That was what mattered. Everything was fine. It was all going to be fine.

He stared openly at Augere.

“Are you well?” Augere asked suddenly, peering intently at his face.

“Yes, I’m fine.”

“Are you quite sure?” Augere’s voice was kind and solicitous; his expression appeared worried.

“Yes, yes, just tired. Really I’m fine.” The words were spoken too quickly. Jason thought he sounded like he was trying to convince himself as much as he was trying to convince Augere. He looked away too quickly too.

“You need sleep now,” Augere said softly.

Jason nodded, and then downed the rest of the contents of both glasses. Then he turned to say goodnight to Augere, but he was already gone. Gone, completely out of sight.

Jason returned to his room. He had made up his mind about the troubling thoughts. None of it was true. And that was the end of it. Such thoughts could bring on madness, and he knew he was not headed in that direction. No matter what, he decided, it simply could not be true. There was just no way.

He fell into a deep and dreamless slumber.

Chapter 18

Highgate

Just outside of the hotel’s restaurant Augere was seated in a plush high back chair talking on his cell phone. Jason had awakened by 8:00 a.m. but had lazily lain in bed. Fatigue won out over hunger for a while but he made it down to the lobby by 9:00. He and Augere had not fixed a time to meet but Jason was glad to see him and waved as he went off to get some coffee. Augere nodded acknowledgement.

Augere was calling Allen Genier at his home in London.

“Hello, Mr. Augere. How are you?”

Augere paused briefly before answering. “Exactly the same as always.”

“Oh…okay. What can I do for you?”

“I am asking you to be available to me. I may need your assistance.”

“Oh…is there trouble?”

“Not yet. But I suspect there could be. We are planning on leaving tomorrow evening. I will be spending the day with the assistant. I do not believe he is well.”

“Is he—ill? Do you need to delay the trip?”

“No. Not ill. The departure should go as planned.”

“Is there a problem? Is he being difficult…? Oh…does…does he know now?”

“I am not certain of it. But something has changed. He is behaving differently. His is a strong character, but I think he may be having some difficulty with this.”

“I see. What can I do to help?”

“Remain available if I need to call for assistance.”

“I will do that. In fact, I will take a room at the hotel in Richmond, or at least be somewhere close by, no more than a few minutes away at most. I want to be as immediately present as possible if needed.”

“That seems a good plan.”

“And—if there is even a chance, a slight possibility of him creating a problem, I don’t want him on a six hour flight over the Atlantic with you. You may need to fly alone tomorrow. I will run this by James too. If it comes to that then, I will see to Mr. Sterling. It will be just as a precaution, and the best way to protect you.”

Augere sighed. “I guess.” There was a slight pause. “We will see how things progress. Perhaps all will go well.”

“Of course. It is just better to have an alternate plan in place. I will make other arrangements too, on a standby basis. I’ll call James a little later as it is only about 2 a.m. there. What is first on your agenda today?”

“I do not know yet.”

“Okay. Well call me when you get to your next location. It would be helpful to know where you are throughout the day.”

“Yes,” Augere replied. “I will secure his passport, and leave it for you at reception.”

“I think that is a good precaution also.”

The call concluded as Jason approached.

“Did you have breakfast already?” Jason asked, fully anticipating the negative answer.

“Yes,” Augere replied. Then, a surprise question, “Do you have your passport with you?”

“No.” Jason shrugged. “Why?”

“We will need to leave both of our passports at the desk. The Genier representative in London will need them to verify our return flight information. Bring yours to the desk before we leave.”

Jason nodded. “Sure.” He wasn’t used to foreign travel requirements, but it sounded logical to him. He didn’t give it a second thought and retrieved his passport from his room. Augere was waiting at the desk with a tan envelope with the name Allen Genier on it; he placed Jason’s passport inside, pressed the seal closed and handed it to the desk clerk to be given to Genier. Jason assumed Augere’s passport was in the envelope as well. Then they set off by taxi to the British Museum.

They split up briefly, but reconnected in the Egypt section. Jason saw things he had never seen in his life. The museum held wonders he could not even have imagined. He saw sculptures from ancient Greece; he put on white cotton gloves and through glass came face to face with drawings done by Michelangelo. He viewed the Rosetta Stone, and an intact 3,000-year-old mummy, his body made visible to the modern world through his still sealed coffin via the technology of CT Scanning. Jason indulged himself freely in the gift shop, buying things for himself mostly, and for his sister Carrie. After the museum they stopped for tea and a small meal. Augere had only clear fruit juice and ice water. No wonder he stays so thin, Jason thought. I need to think about getting on that diet. Though he was slender and well proportioned, Jason sometimes felt heavy and overfed compared to Augere.

Augere suggested they go to go to the Tate Modern next though not much time had been allotted for it. Jason was glad to accompany Augere to see what they could, and found the experience well worth it. Augere’s vast knowledge of much of the art on view continued to impress Jason almost as much as the collections themselves.

“This brush stroke here—do you see how the paint is elevated higher than the surrounding area? He had become obsessed with getting this one part just so. He must have painted it more than one hundred times. He was quite mad at that point in his life.”

Jason nodded, now quite fascinated by the work of an artist he had never even heard of before.

He had to draw Augere out; the comments did not always come voluntarily. They were in the presence of works by Picasso and Cezanne; Warhol and Lichtenstein; Matisse and Dali, and more of Waterhouse than what they had viewed before in Montreal. Augere seemed to know at least something about all of them. It was nearly like having his own personal docent. At one point, as Jason got Augere to discuss a particularly detailed painting, Augere paused suddenly in his narration and they both turned around to see a half dozen strangers at Jason’s elbow, straining with much interest to catch all Augere was saying. Augere laughed and continued.

It was already midafternoon when they left the museum.

“What is next?” Augere asked him.

“There isn’t as much time as I would like, but I was hoping to go to Highgate Cemetery today. I suppose I can manage to go early tomorrow though.”

“We were planning to visit the London Dungeon tomorrow…”

Jason thought he caught a hint of disappointment in Augere’s voice. Of course; he didn’t want to miss that either. He thought it would actually be a lot of fun to have Augere join him there.

“If we travel by taxi,” Augere offered, “you will have at least two hours. Will that be sufficient?”

“I suppose so.” Jason shrugged. “I could only visit the newer part anyway. They will not let you into the older part of the cemetery unless you are part of a tour. And I didn’t want to commit to specific arrangements. So, I guess seeing some of it is better than none.”

Soon they were entering the tall iron gates of Highgate Cemetery. A peaceful calm lay over the stones, as was to be expected in a cemetery, but a high creepiness factor surrounded them also, even in the daylight. Jason used his digital voice recorder to attempt to capture some electronic voice phenomena, even though he didn’t believe cemeteries held much in the way of that kind of contact.

“Still searching for more evidence of ghosts and spirits?” Augere asked, with some surprise. “Always, even while on vacation?”

“When would I ever get a chance like this again?” Jason replied.

“But you have had many such experiences already, have you not? Seen and studied all manner of strange things?”

“Yes, sure, some very unusual stuff.” Jason shrugged. “I am always ready to see and experience more though.”

Jason took numerous photos as he and Augere wandered leisurely through the sad and beautiful landscape, noting both Gothic and Victorian statuary. Jason felt the tour had been quite worth it, even for so short a time. They had only been inside for little more than an hour or so when a caretaker came along to usher them out.

“Damn. And it is still light out.”

“For another hour or more, at least,” Augere stated. “They always herd everyone out early. They do not want anyone to linger here after dark.”

“Well, I guess that’s it then,” Jason said. “At least I got to visit Highgate Cemetery. It’s been a place I’ve wanted to see for a long time.”

Augere appeared to be in deep contemplation. “We could still… if you wanted,” he spoke in a low voice, “spend some time in the West Cemetery.”

Jason looked at him for several moments. “But how?”

Augere shrugged one shoulder. “I used to live near here. I know how to get inside.”

“You’re suggesting we break in?”

“You say that like it would be wrong.”

Jason laughed. “Breaking into a cemetery, especially a famous one like this, could definitely get us into trouble.”

“Yes. Perhaps I should not take risks that involve you. It is not like we are vandals, however.”

“Well, wait…are you sure you could get us in and out safely? And we wouldn’t really be breaking in?”

“Not breaking in then. Trespassing.”

“I see. After hours, different rules apply.”

“Yes. Exactly. Do you always have permission, when you are searching for the spirits and strange things that you study?”

Jason eyed him warily. “Not always. But I don’t condone that. Usually.” Jason paused for several moments. “Okay.” He nodded. “Let’s do it.”

They exited the cemetery. Augere said good evening to the caretaker as they passed him and then asked the direction to the underground. They walked that direction for about two blocks; as they walked Jason glanced down to put his camera back in its case and when he looked up again, Augere was nowhere to be seen. Jason looked all around for him.

“Here,” Augere whispered and Jason attempted to follow his voice. Augere’s hand emerged from the thick hedges along the pavement and pulled at the sleeve of Jason’s jacket.

Jason had a difficult time squeezing through. How had Augere, even as thin as he was, managed it? And Jason didn’t even hear him do that.

Within the tall hedge, he could now see Augere’s back as he was walking away from him. Jason had to struggle through thick hedge growth to keep up. Suddenly the path got a little wider and easier to follow. Then Augere was out of sight again. Jason hurried in the direction he had gone. They seemed to be following the perimeter of the cemetery and now Jason could see, through the thick brush, a high fence along the path they were following. After a few anxious minutes he finally spotted Augere again, several feet ahead of him.

Augere was standing before a space in the fence, one that looked like it had been ripped open. How on earth had he ever found this exact spot? Jason wondered. Augere pulled at the fence, bending it upward, and Jason passed through to the other side, with Augere close behind.

They were definitely in an older part of the Cemetery now. They walked along a stone path and Jason took many photos of the beautiful statuary and tombs overgrown with ivy. It was more lush and green here than what they had seen in the East portion.

The daylight held as they walked leisurely. Jason knew this was a rare treat; even on the organized tour he believed one was not allowed to take photos. The two walked parallel to each other, each taking time to read an inscription here or admire a graceful stone image there. Augere really seemed to know his way around. As the light began to fade finally, the dimness and shadows added more interest to Jason’s photos.

Suddenly, darkness enveloped them. There was very little light anymore and it was becoming difficult even to see the path where they were walking. Maybe this hadn’t been such a good idea, Jason thought now.

No wonder they want you out before it really gets dark. How would they ever find that break in the fence again now?

Jason felt a few moments of panic, but he was reluctant to show any fear to Augere.

Augere appeared quite calm. “Now that it is dark, we can take the other way out.”

And it was a dark night; no moonlight. Augere walked steadily on a path where Jason could barely see to place one foot after the other. He focused on trying to keep sight of Augere instead. They must have walked about ten minutes; a very long ten minutes.

Augere paused and stood still for a few moments. Jason strained to look for any kind of landmark. He thought he saw some type of tall structure—was it a high stone wall?—several feet ahead. Great. Now what?

Augere moved toward the left for several feet, Jason keeping up. Now he could make out a tall iron fence, made slightly more visible due to a light off in the distance; faint but definitely some sort of illumination.

Augere walked them right up to the iron gate. How he had been able to find it at all, I do not know, marveled Jason. He must truly be well familiar with this area. Now they encountered another problem. They had found the tall gate, an exit, and it was padlocked.

Augere simply reached up to the large padlock and gave what looked to Jason to be a slight tug at it. With seemingly no effort at all, the lock pulled apart, as easily as if he had used a key to open it. He then pulled the heavy chains through the bars of the fence and the next moment they were outside the gate.

“How did you do that?” Jason asked in surprise.

“It is never actually locked.” Augere left the dangling chain and the ripped apart lock hanging from the fence.

Now it seemed they were outside of the cemetery, and in a dark wooded area. This is just as bad, if not worse. Where the hell are we?

“This way.” Augere confidently strode off into the darkness. Jason had to hurry to catch up to him.

“Do you really have any idea where we are?” Jason asked.

“Technically, still part of Highgate. Near Hampstead Heath.”

That really didn’t mean much to Jason.

“Okay. Well, how far from civilization are we?”

Augere stopped suddenly. “If we cut across here—which I do not prefer to do—it is probably a walk of about twenty minutes. If we go this way”—Jason could not begin to tell what directions Augere was indicating—“it is a better way to go, but it will take longer.”

Longer, in this darkness, was not sounding like the better option.

“Well, the shorter way then?” Jason suggested.

Augere sighed. “Very well.”

They walked on, with Jason just a few paces behind Augere. He was feeling a little light headed and thought it was probably the adrenaline from fear kicking in. He struggled to keep Augere in view.

A few stars were visible now. The air was cool and crisp. It was still difficult to see the path under his feet but Jason kept up. His eyes had grown a little more accustomed to the darkness. Jason thought he could make out some faint light off in the distance, at ground level.

Please let it be houses, and people, and taxis…

Jason had been in scary situations before. He had put himself there, during his ghost investigations. He had spent time in places creepy, dark and unfamiliar, and often with a dark history. This was a little like that. One acknowledged one’s fear and dealt with it.

Jason was breathing a little heavier now, from exertion and admittedly from anxiety. He could see his breath in the cool air. They walked on in silence.

Suddenly Augere came to a dead stop and Jason nearly ran into him.

“What…?” Jason started to say but Augere cut him off, very softly saying “shhhhh,” then even more softly, “Stay behind me.”

Jason struggled to see. What is it…? Oh fuck. Is it muggers? Are we about to be attacked?

Jason fought an almost blind fear that surprised him. Maybe they were both going to die out here. Or maybe it was the police. And they were going to be arrested. Fuck.

Suddenly Jason became aware of a very strong smell. A horrible rotting, decaying stench. It seemed to seep right into his pores; it rushed at him on a hot blast of air out of the depths of the darkness and the smell filled his nostrils, rancid and fetid, forcing him to take several steps backward, choking him and making him want to retch. The disgusting smell burned his throat.

Out of the blackness in front of them emerged reddish-orange glowing eyes—huge as an elephant’s and at the same height as one. These eyes were malevolent and terrifying and seemingly fixed on him. In the darkness Jason began to make out the outline of an enormous head; some kind of massive thing was right in front of them. He followed the huge eyes as they lowered to near ground level and then rose again to a height that had to be more than fifteen feet. The beast, what he could make out of it, seemed to be neither human nor animal, but maybe some grotesque pairing of both. It bore darker and lighter patches on its huge frame; impossible to call it fur or skin. It had claw-like appendages. The features of its face were horrifyingly malformed or contorted; Jason could not tell which as he stared at the thing, mesmerized. Not being able to see it as clearly in the darkness made the experience of it all the more terrifying

The thing was not simply menacing; it exuded viciousness and hatred. It appeared to have sharp teeth that glinted in its enormous twisted mouth. Though it seemed too fantastic to be real, it was clearly alive and posing a very real threat.

Jason had never been so scared in his life. He wanted to run. He was not sure his legs could do the job. He quickly envisioned himself turning and running blindly into the darkness, perhaps stumbling and falling, or with his back to the thing and feeling its hot breath—breath he could feel on his face just now—on his neck as it overtook him. He imagined the body, the true size of which he could not clearly ascertain—he just couldn’t see most of it—was probably capable of leaping and overtaking him no matter how fast he ran. He was sure it would be able to pounce on him and tear him to pieces and that it intended to do so.

And then he realized Augere was standing between him and the monstrous thing. Augere, whose slight frame was defenseless next to it, would be taken first. Leaving Jason alone with the thing. What the hell was it and where had it come from? He could make out Augere’s form somewhat. He had widened his stance. The great beast moved closer toward them; it looked like it was glaring ominously at Augere now and continued moving toward both of them.

Suddenly Augere spoke and it startled him. A loud, clear but calm voice that had the same sharp tone he had used with the contrary woman at the entrance to the catacombs.

“If you believe you have the canines to take me, come forward. Bring it now, or be gone. You know what I am capable of.”

Jason almost burst out in nervous laughter at the comical horror of it. Augere must have totally lost it. Gone quite insane. The horrible thing would take Augere down, and then it would come for him.

The great beast snorted and snarled. It let out a horrendously loud bellow, an angry and anguished roar that half of London had to have heard. The sound of it raised the hair on Jason’s body and the force of the sound rumbled and vibrated against his chest. He immediately got behind Augere, an act which in the same instant felt both cowardly and yet exactly the correct thing to do.

Augere stood his ground. Jason thought how terribly he was going to miss him. He couldn’t bear the thought he was going to witness this: Augere being torn apart. And then felt the bile rise in his throat at the thought he would be next. He was going to die, right here and now.

The creature lowered its enormous head, never taking its glowing hate filled eyes off of Augere as it very slowly began to retreat into the darkness. The orange red eyes were fixed there one moment, hovering in the blackness—and then—it was just gone: the smell, the sound, the beast itself—Jason felt its total absence. The glow of the eyes were the last visible trace of it before blackness enveloped them again.

Augere immediately relaxed his pose and looked for some time in the direction the beast seemed to have gone. It was still out there, somewhere; it had to be, yet the immediate danger seemed gone.

Jason stood staring into the darkness, his body nearly in a full tremble. What the hell had he just witnessed?

“We should go now,” Augere stated calmly.

“Yeah, we gotta get out of here.” Jason’s voice was foreign and hoarse to his own ears.

Augere began to walk briskly in the direction it seemed they had been going before. Jason suspected Augere must be in some state of shock, as much as he himself was. His legs felt heavy and unwilling; the adrenaline was still pumping; he could hear his heart beating in his ears and his hands were shaky, his mouth dry. He struggled to keep up with Augere, forcing his legs to cooperate as he kept looking back into the darkness, ever fearfully imagining he heard something creeping up on them, ready to overtake them.

It could have been two minutes or ten; time had little meaning. Suddenly they came to a sidewalk; small houses were in the distance just beyond; and lights, faint, and glowing.

Jason’s breathing began to slow a little. His throat hurt. The rest of his body felt like it belonged to someone else. Everything seemed unreal just now. He was already reliving the past few minutes. His life had been in mortal danger just minutes ago, he was certain, but now he might be okay. He was still trying to process all that had happened.

“You have your cell phone. We have to call the police. I don’t have my phone. Tell them what we saw and get someone out here; they might even need the military! This is really big…imagine a thing like that roaming around a city like London! I would never have believed it…I don’t understand how it could possibly be—”

He stopped then and stared at Augere. Even in the dim light he observed Augere’s impassive expression. Augere made no attempt to use his cell phone.

He guessed Augere was still in some state of shock.

“We need to tell the authorities, Mr. Augere. Right away. Before someone gets killed. We are still in danger ourselves. We’ve got to get away from here and we have to let others know so they can warn people and get this thing—” Augere still made no reply but remained looking steadily at him, as far as Jason could tell, as they were still far from any direct light source. He must be in even more shock than I am.

“Look, Mr. Augere. Just give me your phone then. I’ll make the call.” He held out his shaking hand in the dark.

“We can tell no one about this.”

Jason simply stared at him. He could just make out his features in the dim light, only slightly less dark now that they had moved into a clearing somehow closer to a dim light source from nearby civilization. Jason hesitated. He was thinking about what had just happened.

“You…talked to that thing…as if it could understand you…I thought maybe you had flipped out…it didn’t seem like you were really afraid of it either. That was crazy brave of you. But that thing is still out here…” Jason peered into the darkness around them again, nervously expecting to see something emerge, something ready to pounce.

“There was nothing to fear. Not really.”

Okay. Augere is clearly not handling this well.

“Nothing?” Jason struggled to regain control. “That thing was coming after us! It could have ripped us apart! We’re still in danger right now. We’ve got to get out of here, now, and warn people. They just have to believe us.”

“I thought you investigated things like this. You have seen such before, I assumed from your comments. You were not truly so afraid, were you, ghost hunter?” The tone of voice held a hint of surprise and confusion which Jason only heard and interpreted as sarcasm; as if Augere was mocking him.

“Terrified beyond the capacity for rational thought, Venkman,” Jason replied tersely. He made a lame attempt at humor to express his true state of mind and to avoid blowing up in sudden anger at Augere; it was an attempt to diffuse the mocking tone of the comment as well. Things like this? There are no THINGS like this! Augere has to have become totally unbalanced to stand here and be calmly mocking me about this…

Augere’s bizarre stance had made Jason look and feel like a coward, not that he cared at that moment. Jason had gotten behind Augere as if he instinctively knew it could not get past Augere to get to him…no wait…was it because Augere had said “get behind me”? It was as if Augere had forced that thing to back off. Then Augere had calmly led them both to safety. What the hell is going on here? Jason began to wonder now, his mind strained with confusion.

“You spoke to that thing…how did you know to do that? Why did you think it wouldn’t just kill you? That it could even understand you…?”

“I am quite certain it understood my intentions, if not the words precisely. They are rather brutish things. If nothing else the tone of voice was certainly familiar.” They had neared a streetlight now as they had continued walking and Jason stopped suddenly then and just stared at him for several moments.

Familiar? “Are you saying you’ve seen things like that before?”

“Perhaps we can discuss this back at the hotel—”

“Now. I need to know right now.”

A frown accompanied Augere’s heavy sigh, though Jason still couldn’t make out his features too clearly. He was quiet for several long moments, avoiding Jason’s intense stare.

Then Augere spoke quietly, calmly.

“I have encountered these beings before. Science will tell you there are no such things as ley lines or energy vortexes or portals to other dimensions. There is no proof that portals can open where some of those lines intersect. But you may already know of this.” He was looking into Jason’s eyes now but Jason could hear him more clearly than he could see his expression, a voice coming from the darkness.

“A great many things exist though there may not be scientific proof of them.” He paused for Jason’s response, trying to gauge if Jason fully understood. Jason made no reply.

“There are several energy vortexes around Highgate. The portals can open when…certain circumstances occur.” He paused again. “Usually I can spot these easily enough—there is a blue aura—” He looked at Jason as if for some acknowledgement, but saw only Jason’s confused and frightened expression. He wondered if perhaps Jason did not know of this. “When I see the aura I can avoid them. This one was particularly large and I did not see it all at once…some of the perimeter, of course, but not the entire…” Augere’s voice trailed off. If Jason knew of this, he gave no sign. And he was clearly beyond being able to take in the information Augere was trying to provide just now.

Jason was staring at him and shaking his head. Yes. He had heard of ley lines. He knew in theory they were numerous and that they crisscrossed the earth. And there were energy vortexes. And there were, in theory, portals. Some of these vortexes were thought to attract and hold more energy than other places on earth. The unusual energy levels could cause people to experience unusual physical sensations. Like hallucinations. But this had been no hallucination. If that was where Augere might be going with this. He couldn’t believe they were having this conversation. And right now, of all moments.

“And what does all that have to do with—that thing?” Jason was curious and scared at the same time.

“Whenever I get near one of the vortexes where a portal may occur, that portal may open, and beings from other dimensions try to come through to this dimension.”

Jason continued to stare, uncomprehending. This cannot be real. How could it be? Except that he had seen if for himself.

“When I get near one of those portals, beings on the other side can sense me—my energy—and then they use me as a kind of beacon to try to come through. As you have seen this evening, that would not be a good thing to have happen. Nothing has been able to get past me so far.”

“How come no one else knows about this? Why would you not tell anyone? Why on earth would you keep something like this to yourself? We have got to tell the authorities about this—”

“You can never tell anyone.”

“But why? I don’t understand.”

Augere looked into his eyes steadily for several moments.

“I believe you do have that understanding. It is because I am the other half of the equation. And my privacy must be protected at all cost.”

Jason heard a definite coldness in the tone of voice now. He continued to look at him with a confused expression but a sense of what was being said and its implications was gathering shape in his mind.

“This should not have happened.” Augere said quietly then, shaking his head.

They began walking again, side by side in silence, for another mile or so.

As if the evening could not possibly get any stranger, a taxi pulled up to them as they were paused along a path with houses and lights still some ways off in the distance. The driver asked if they needed a lift.

Jason, and the cab driver, seemed surprised at the unexpected appearance of each other in such a remote location and dark setting.

Augere, on the other hand, experienced no surprise.

They climbed into the cab and headed back to their hotel.

Chapter 19

Following Highgate

They rode in silence all the way back to the hotel, gazing out their respective windows; Augere quietly composed; Jason restlessly fidgeting.

Once they reached the hotel they walked up the stairs to their respective rooms on the second floor. Jason was about to enter his room. Augere paused in the corridor in front of his own room just beyond Jason’s and asked, “Is there anything you wish to discuss with me?”

Without a glance at him, Jason shook his head and then entered his room and closed the door.

Augere paused outside of Jason’s room, staring at the closed door. He stood there for several minutes more before turning with a heavy sigh and returning to the lobby.

Once at the desk, Augere inquired if Allen Genier was registered. A few moments later he was speaking to Allen on his phone. He asked Allen to come to the lobby, and there, as they stood near the stairs, in case Jason was to try to exit, Augere filled Allen in, briefly, on what had just occurred.

“Bloody hell. That is very unfortunate. How is he doing?”

“He does not have much to say.” There was a pause. “I did not intend for this to happen.”

“Of course not. There is no one to blame. You got him back here safely.” Allen paused.” I imagine be could be in a state of shock …he is probably still sorting it all out. Hopefully he’ll be strong enough to cope with this. What is the plan now?”

Augere frowned slightly. “I asked if he wanted to talk and he…would not.”

“We should give him some time. I think it is important that we keep an eye on him and not let him go off by himself. That seems too risky to me.”

“Yes. I agree.”

“I was going to get some dinner. Maybe after I introduce myself I’ll invite him to have a meal with me. That would give me a chance to assess what he is thinking and feeling.”

Augere nodded.

“Room service is very limited at this hour. I will inquire at the desk about ordering take away to be delivered. Will you look out for Jason, while I check into it?”

Augere agreed and returned to the second floor.

Upon reaching his room, Jason began to pace; his thoughts racing.

Maybe Augere had some kind of out of the ordinary level of energy, that, somehow, made it possible for him to make a connection…with another dimension? That was a big stretch. Jason had sometimes—actually had often—felt lightheaded and a little dizzy when he was physically near Augere. And Augere always seemed to keep some physical distance…was that why? There were such things as psychic…vampires…maybe that was it—not an actual…vampire. Because to even consider the possibly vampirism could really be true was just crazy. A psychic vampire maybe. Yeah. He would have to research that some more. Later.

His mind struggled to find and accept other answers. But a reality was descending on him with the clarity of a cold white light he could not escape.

Many small details, suspicions, incidents—all of which, independently, were just very odd and puzzling, once collectively accumulated began to merge into a huge avalanche of certainty that threatened to overwhelm him.

The reality it could be absolutely true was staggering. It just could not be: Augere. Vampire. It was so absurd; he just wanted to laugh about it, forget it, and go on as if nothing had happened. But everything seemed to point in that direction. Random thoughts and images came to him in a rush now, all coming together to create one image and one thought: Vampire. Or, maybe he really was losing his mind? He paced his room again. Wait until Genier learns about this…what will he say when I tell him…! And then Jason froze. But how could they not know…but they couldn’t…they would have told him…of course they would have… Or had he been tricked and lied to? Drawn into something sinister from the beginning? It stung Jason to think of the depth of deception that might have been perpetrated on him. Why would they do such a thing? He tried to catch himself, to stop this train of thought. It was starting to make him crazy. Genier had seemed so…no…it was too hard to believe it of him. And they were attorneys! They had a standing in the community; well known for generations. There is no way they could have been aware of something like this, much less have been able to get away with trying to hide it. But what if it really IS true?…what if they did know? Then they would have been trying to keep this a secret. Maybe Augere had been able to coerce them; controlled them, perhaps. If it was true, about what he was…and they did know his secret…then he and all of them had been counting on keeping that secret safe. They, and Augere, were involved in the secret together.

He took a deep breath and tried to shake off the crazy thoughts. It might still be easy enough to dismiss all of his fears, all of his wild imaginings, if only he had not seen the portal thing for himself. He had felt its hot breath and experienced the stench of it…that was as real as anything could get. And the sheer terror of it. He knew that damn thing was real! And no one on the planet, as far as he knew, was aware of the true existence of such things. And Augere was the other part of the equation. He had said so himself. But did that have to mean he was a vampire? Jason hardly knew what to think now. He was still trying to reason it out. And it defied reason.

The horrific event that had happened tonight—it was an accident. It had to be. No one had meant for it to happen. But because of it he had stumbled on the big secret he had not been meant to know: the truth about Augere. And the portal incident just seemed to confirm that truth. It was still so fantastic and so hard to believe! Augere seemed to confirm his status as some supernatural being without coming right out and saying it. If it was true, then the Geniers had to be in on it and no one had meant for Jason to ever know the truth. Augere had just been trying to be helpful tonight—letting him have that unique experience at Highgate. No one could have expected or predicted this outcome.

This huge secret would still have been safe, if he had not inadvertently stumbled on something he was never meant to know. And now—the only way they could ever hope to continue to keep such a huge thing a secret…was to eliminate anyone who found out.

That’s it, Jason decided; he had become a liability to them now. They would have to get rid of him. No one else could possibly be trusted with a secret as big as this. That was how they had been able to keep this secret safe, probably for a very long time. The portals and that beast thing were just a part of it. Augere was the rest. His secret had to be protected.

Jason paced some more. This was so horrible! He felt a stab of anguish. He was enjoying this new life! He liked Genier. And he really liked Augere. Why was all of this happening—why was it all unraveling…?

He was certain now they were going to have to kill him.

I have got to get out of here. I have to get away and get back to the U.S. Not home—not to Boston, he thought with a fresh wave of pain. He could never go back there. And not to my family either—they would find me. I really have nowhere to go! Zavi came to mind. Maybe he could go there, to her apartment. Figure out what to do then. But right now, first he had to get to the airport. Get on the first flight out. It was just a little after 7:00 p.m. now. He would take whatever flight was available.

Luckily he had already started packing earlier. He checked the small folio where he kept his cash and credit cards; he counted the money he had; he could get to an ATM, get some more cash. Then he froze: his passport. Augere had taken it that morning.

A few moments of blind panic followed: had all of this been planned then?! What was really happening here? Was it true the passports had been needed to reconfirm the flights? Now he doubted it. Had there already been a plan in place to get rid of him? To have this thing happen? But why? He began to feel physically sick. He tried to get hold of himself, to calm down and to reason this out. But rising fear and panic began to rule him now.

Augere who had asked for his passport. Augere who had suggested they go into the older part of Highgate. Had this whole thing been set up? Planned in advance? Maybe they had needed some excuse to do him in. Maybe all of it had been deliberately staged. A horrible act of betrayal. But why? He started randomly throwing things into his suitcase. Then he paused suddenly. He would leave without his luggage if he had to. He just had to get away. Right now. That was the important thing. He regretted leaving all the stuff he had bought, and all of his personal things. But what did all of that matter now? All the little treasures collected on one of the best trips of his life. Now none of it was important. Not if he was made to disappear. Not if he was going to be killed.

He grabbed the cash folio and shoved it into his jacket pocket and then threw his jacket over his arm and opened his door to leave.

He found Augere standing in the corridor not far from his door. Jason paused in his doorway, shocked to see him there. A few moments later Augere stepped closer to the open door.

“I was just going out for some air,” Jason hastily explained, the tension in his voice and lack of eye contact betraying him. He tried to step out into the corridor. Augere blocked his exit.

“I cannot let you leave.”

On sudden impulse Jason attempted to step past him, and Augere took hold of his upper arm with one hand and forced him back into his room. The grip was very tight, and fully encompassed his upper arm, though it seemed to require no effort on Augere’s part. From appearances Jason knew he should have been able to easily overpower him, throw him off balance and just bolt out of the door. But the effortless vise grip on his arm suggested otherwise. He was obviously dealing with someone very powerful. The truth of his situation, and the reality of what Augere could be began to seem even more apparent now. Jason was shaking with fright.

“I just want to go. Please let me leave. I won’t tell anyone about the portals or what we saw. You can trust me.” Jason’s pleading voice was unnerving even to himself.

Augere pulled him, effortlessly, across the room to a small table and he sat Jason down in one of two chairs there. With his free hand he pulled the second chair closer. Then he placed a call on his cell phone, while still holding onto Jason. “Come to the room. It is not locked.” The call ended.

Jason’s panic escalated. Someone else was coming? They were going to kill him, right here? Now? Or would they take him somewhere, to dispose of him…He didn’t want to let himself think of that. He had to get away. But no amount of struggle could release him from the steel grip that held him. Augere’s words and actions terrified him. He sat opposite Jason now and still held him fast.

Jason could not bear to meet Augere’s intense gaze. They sat in silence for several minutes. Jason’s mind was racing, thinking of what he could say or do to get away. What he could possibly do to survive this.

“Talk to me…” Augere urged softly, gently. The voice came as close to pleading as Augere was able to get. But Jason had already turned his face away from him. Jason’s heart was pounding in his ears. He heard Augere but did not want to hear him. He failed to hear the sadness in Augere’s voice, or see the depth of emotion in Augere’s eyes. The words registered in some distant part of his mind, somewhere past the intense fear he was experiencing. But he was caught up in the moment and in trying to survive. He wants to know all that I know about him. I will admit nothing. It’s my only chance. Pretend that I suspect nothing about him.

A gentle knock sounded on the door. Augere did not move. He continued looking steadily at Jason. He was about to speak again. The knock repeated a little louder.

Augere gave an exasperated sigh. “I am going to release you. If you try to run, you will get hurt.” The words were delivered tonelessly.

One second Augere’s hand was squeezing his arm so tightly he was sure the blood supply was cut off, and the very next second, Augere was at the door. Jason rose suddenly, ready to ask whoever it was for help. Or to try to run if he had a chance to.

Before opening the door, Augere turned to look at him.

“If you tried to leave and if you told anyone anything about all of this, I would have to kill you.” His tone of voice held no emotion.

Jason slowly and reluctantly sat down again. His arm was painfully throbbing. He already began to imagine other pain.

Jason was terrified and did not want to see but forced himself to look at the stranger who entered the room. His mind was clouded with thoughts of escape; of things he could say or do to get himself out of this nightmare.

A pleasant looking man with a tentative smile and calm demeanor, who resembled a slightly younger version of James Genier, entered the room.

Augere remained near the door while the stranger stood for several moments looking at Jason, who was eyeing both of them warily. Augere, with his back to Jason now, spoke quietly to the man for several minutes. The man nodded several times, while keeping an eye on Jason all the while.

Now what? Jason wondered. What were they going to do to him? He couldn’t stop trembling.

Augere remained across the room, while the stranger approached Jason.

The stranger extended his hand to him. “Hi, Jason. I’m Allen Genier. James is my brother. We haven’t met but I feel as if I already know you.”

Jason made no comment and did not shake his hand. His fear intensified. How did James’ brother just happen to be here or get here so quickly? And why was he here? Further proof that all of this had to have been deliberately planned! But why were they doing this?

“It is often said I am the smarter and better looking of the two of us brothers. Unfortunately, it is usually me who makes that observation.” Allen smiled warmly, and his gentle laugh was an attempt to put Jason at ease. But it was already becoming clear to him that Jason was having a very rough time.

“Forgive my poor attempt at humor. It is how I often cope with tense situations. Mr. Augere is worried about you. I know you have had a terrible shock this evening. A rather traumatic event. He has asked me to talk to you and to see what can be done to help you.”

Jason felt confused. What was really happening now?

“All I need is to go home. Tonight,” Jason stammered.

“But—you are already scheduled to leave tomorrow afternoon. You will be home fairly soon. I know I can’t speak from my own personal experience, Jason, but I can well imagine that all of this is something extremely out of the ordinary for you. A huge shock, to say the least. If I can do—”

“I need to go home. Right now. Not tomorrow.”

“Why the urgency?”

Jason could not look at him. Allen remained standing beside Jason for several moments. Then he sat down in the chair opposite.

“Mr. Augere tells me he tried to get you to talk to him,” Allen said softly.

Jason made no reply and continued to avoid his gaze.

“Jason…I know this has to be a lot for you to take in. No one meant for this to happen, I can assure you.” He paused. “I think the best thing right now is for us to sit and talk for a bit. Get things sorted out. I was just going to order some food for myself, and I would like you to join me. Even if you don’t feel like eating right now, some quiet company then. A strong drink perhaps and a cup of tea. Then you should try to get some sleep afterwards and you will be on your way home tomorrow.”

“You don’t need to do this,” Jason stated abruptly, still without eye contact.

“I don’t understand. Do—what, exactly?”

“Can’t you just let me go…I would not tell anyone. No one would believe me anyway. But I swear I won’t tell. Just let me leave. Just give me my passport.”

“Jason—we are concerned you may be experiencing a serious shock right now and that your judgment may not be the best. I ask you to give this a little time—”

“I just want to go home.”

“You are going home. I promise you. Tomorrow.”

“To my family. I just want to see my family again.”

A pleading tone in Jason’s voice got to Allen. It sounded anguished. This really was not good. Jason was in even worse shape than he had expected to find him.

Allen regarded him silently. He thought Jason looked simply terrified. He shuddered to think what Jason must have seen earlier this evening. He could only imagine the horror of it. No doubt he had feared for his life. Augere had not given a clear account of how bad it was. He often minimized or omitted details, probably especially with things like this. But the danger was past. Jason was far from there now. He just had to get past this. Probably the realization of Augere’s true nature was a contributing factor. No doubt, if Jason had not known of it sooner, he did now.

“You will be going home. Barely hours from now. Then, you could always—”

“I know you—and he”—Jason did not even glance in Augere’s direction—“think you can’t trust me. But please, I will not tell anyone about this. I just want to go home to my family. Right now. And I would not say anything.”

Allen gazed at him silently for several moments.

“I can see you are quite shaken up by all of this. I suspect you really are not thinking as clearly as you might be otherwise. A little irrational perhaps; impulsive maybe. Your safety is a big concern for us. In time—”

“I know you are here to make sure I don’t tell anyone.” Allen thought Jason sounded as if he could be near tears.

There was a long pause. “It is very important that you do not. Extremely important.”

“You don’t have to do this.”

“Jason, I—”

“You want to make sure I’ll stay silent. I know that’s why you are here…You don’t have to do this.”

“Do you think…someone is going to harm you?”

“Because of all that has happened, I know you think it’s necessary. But it isn’t, I swear. I won’t tell.”

“Mr. Augere’s privacy—and safety— is paramount. But your safety is extremely important to us also. Why would you think otherwise?”

“There is no reason you have to do this. I can be trusted. There is no reason for me to tell anyone, ever.”

Allen stared at him. The downcast eyes and the sad expression. The trembling fear. What was going on in his mind really?

“You have nothing to fear from me. Or Mr. Augere.”

Allen got up from his seat and walked over to Mr. Augere who waited near the door.

Empty words. To promote a false sense of safety. Jason knew it wasn’t true. Augere had already threatened him. Augere had already said he would have to be killed.

Jason stared at the table in front of him. Augere’s words—and now Allen Genier’s— were replaying in his mind now. Augere’s privacy was to be protected at all cost. I’m expendable. A sacrifice was to be made. Augere himself had made it clear.

“Jason, tell me what else I can say or do to put your mind at ease. To help you right now.” Allen returned to Jason’s side.

“Let me go home to my family. Give me my passport. Right now. Trust me. I want to be done with this.”

“Well, we can’t let you leave on your own. It is not our policy to do that, and certainly not in such circumstances. You are clearly in a state…where you might…say or do something…anything, that might cause yourself harm or might jeopardize our wellbeing or that of Mr. Augere. We cannot allow that.”

“What are you going to do to me?”

Allen looked at him for several moments. He saw the fear in Jason’s eyes, heard it in his voice. “When you say—that you want to go home…are you talking about Boston, then? Or do you mean to say—home—to your home with your family?

“Yes. Yes. I just want to be with them right now.”

“I can imagine how difficult it must be to be going through something like this, so far from home, from all that is familiar to you. We sincerely want to help you. Are you asking to take some time off for a while? To be home with your family…for a few days? Weeks? Or a month maybe? And then continue on with your job as before?”

Allen wasn’t able to interpret the look Jason gave him.

“Because I would suggest that might be a good idea. Have a rest at home in familiar surroundings. Think things over and gain a new perspective. Come back to work then when you feel ready.”

To Jason the words seemed cruel and heartless. They surely had other plans for him. I wish it were true…I don’t want it to end like this!

“Of course I can’t come back!”

Allen wasn’t expecting Jason’s vehement response and he gazed at him for several long moments.

“I don’t think you should make any long term decisions for yourself right now, Jason. I don’t think you are in the right frame of mind to do so. That is my opinion.”

Allen wasn’t certain that Jason was even hearing him. What exactly was going through his mind? Just intense fear probably. Jason just needed some time to get over this. Some sleep and comfort and a feeling of safety right now would do him good. This was just a setback that could be reversed and put right again.

Allen observed Jason taking a fearful glance in Augere’s direction. After a few moments he got up and went to Augere. They spoke quietly for several minutes. Several times Allen glanced over at Jason and nodded.

Their imagined conversation made Jason even more nervous. If only he could get away from both of them. Maybe get to a phone. Call the police. But what could he say to them? That he was held against his will. Why? Because I know things I shouldn’t know…after he had just promised he would not tell. They would find out he had lied about not telling anyone and then they would still end up killing him. He couldn’t risk getting the police involved unless he was well away from both of them, and he didn’t see how that was going to happen. If he went along and if they saw he would not attempt to tell anyone, maybe they would really let him go.

It appeared to Jason that Augere was talking at length to Allen.

Jason observed them with a worried expression. This is it, he guessed. A decision was being made about him. He imagined the dire outcome. They, and he, already knew what had to be done.

Augere was suddenly gone from the room. Jason had been nervously looking in their direction but still did not even see him leave and now he was alone with Allen.

“Jason—let me understand—you are requesting to go home to your family but just for a short spell—is that correct? To return home to Michigan but not for good, is that it?”

“Minnesota.”

“Yes, sorry. Minnesota.”

“YES! Yes, I want to go. I want to be done with this.” Jason paused a moment. “I know he will never let me leave though. Knowing what I know…”

Once again Allen heard the anguish in Jason’s voice.

“I am not exactly sure what you do know. It would probably make things a lot easier if you were just able to talk to him. He would speak frankly—he would answer your questions—”

Jason shook his head several times.

Allen sighed. “I guess I can understand.” Maybe when the full realization sets in, and the truth comes to light, Augere might be the last being one would want to talk to. “But I don’t think you are in a good frame of mind to make such far reaching decisions just now; I really don’t want you to feel forced to choose, either way, in such a hasty manner. You may not really want this to come to an end. To leave your employment right now, if I understand correctly. Because it seems like an extreme decision in the face of a temporary situation.”

Jason was ready to grab at any hope that would get him away from there. If saying he would be willing to leave his job would save his life—if those were the terms—then yes, he would take it. Anything, anything, if it would give him a chance to get away. Just let me go!

“Okay, Jason, so what will happen now is this: I am going to order some food, and I will order for you also—whatever you like—”

The condemned man gets to choose.

“—and then I am going to stay here with you tonight. Mr. Augere will be right outside. I’ll need to make some phone calls. I will make arrangements for us to fly together tomorrow. If, after we get back to the U.S. you see things differently you can decide what you want to do then. Does that seem like a fair agreement?”

Jason felt a new wave of panic take hold. His body ached from tension and he was already mentally and physically exhausted.

“Where will you be taking me?”

“Wherever you want to go. But a lot of that depends on you. I have to feel that you are safe to travel, and that you will continue to be safe where you end up.”

“He told you—to let me believe I could just leave?”

“I assure you. If that is your decision he won’t stop you. Things just happen sometimes. It can’t be helped. He understands that. He would not force someone to stay.”

“But he did! He forced me into my room. He physically held me here. He told me he could not let me leave! He said—”

“We just have to do what is necessary.”

That sealed it as far as Jason was concerned. If only he could call his family one last time. He felt close to weeping. How had he allowed himself to get involved in all of this? How could he have been so blind?

“Am I allowed to call anyone?” he asked hesitantly.

“I—could call someone for you. I’m afraid it has to be that way for now.”

Jason made no reply. As much as he wanted to hear their voices one last time, he did not want them to hear the fear and anguish in his voice. It would pain him, and them too much, to know there was nothing he, or they, could do to help his situation, even if they could not fully know what that situation was. He did not want his last contact with them to be filled with torment and fear. So, that was their plan. To let him believe he was going to be on his way home. He was less likely to put up a fight or try to escape then.

“I want to get you somewhere that you feel safe.” Allen hoped his voice conveyed reassurance.

Jason’s expression was one of despair. “I wish I could believe you.”

They would lure him somewhere with the pretense he would be safe. And then they would make sure he was never seen or heard from again.

“He said he would kill me.” Jason thought he might as well acknowledge what they all knew already. A last desperate attempt to let them know they weren’t really pulling something over on him.

“Jason. I’m a practicing attorney in international law, licensed in both the U.S. and the UK. My family has been lawyers, financiers, and real estate brokers for many, many generations. I would not do something to intentionally jeopardize my career, or dishonor my family. I, and none of my family, have ever harmed anyone, and it is my intention to keep it that way. And as long as you don’t create a scene, Mr. Augere will keep it that way too.” He paused and waited for a comment from Jason. “It is important that you adhere to the confidentiality agreement. No one must know about Mr. Augere, ever. If you honor that, you have nothing to fear from him.”

Jason simply stared at him. The words were not enough to convince him he was going to be safe. He already knew what the outcome had to be.

Allen placed a call to the front desk. Yes, the food and beverages he had requested had arrived. He had briefly considered trying to slip something unseen into a beverage to help to get Jason to sleep, then thought better of it. Jason seemed paranoid enough as it was; if he saw or detected something in the drink it would only make matters worse. But there were so many details to take care of right now. Many arrangements to be made. He was going to have to call James and bring him up to date and enlist his help in making all of the necessary arrangements. James had a rapport with Jason. Maybe if James spoke to him…

“Jason, I have to call James in a little while. And I would like for you to speak with him. Will you do that?”

Jason’s expression was blank.

“The food and beverages are being sent up to the room now. After we eat something, how about if I help you pack?”

Jason looked at him for several moments. Then he got up and went into the bathroom, and closed the door.

That made Allen nervous. “I hope Jason is not going to do something foolish in there. Like lock himself in.”

Allen heard water running, but remained listening and wary. Meanwhile he set about collecting things around the room; most of these he packed into Jason’s suitcase.

To Allen’s relief, Jason emerged a short while later.

Jason mechanically began packing the rest of his stuff, not believing for a moment he was ever going to see his family again.

While Jason was occupied, Allen placed a call to his brother James. He walked to the other side of the room, to keep the phone conversation private.

“Allen, what is going on? I’ve been trying to call Augere. He told me there was a situation. Now he won’t answer.”

“It’s not good.” Allen tried to speak in a low voice. “We have been occupied with a difficult development. I’m not sure what is going on in Jason’s mind.” Allen glanced toward Jason then continued. “He seems very fearful. Even out of all proportion to this event. As if someone is still going to harm him. I know he has had a terrible shock though.”

“Is he at risk to himself, do you think?”

“I don’t believe so. But I am not going to take that chance and let him out of my sight. Augere and I will watch over him. We have to make sure to keep him safe. There is someone else I am going to bring in also to help out. I am going to need your help to make some of the arrangements. I’ll do what I can on this end.”

“Just let me know what you need. But what is Jason doing or saying? What is going on exactly?”

“I can only surmise it must be Mr. Augere he is so terrified of. He acts as if someone is trying to harm him. He is well out of danger from anything to do with what happened. There was a horrifying portal experience—I’ll tell you more later—Augere had the situation under control of course. Yet Jason still seems fearful for his life. I saw the way he was looking at Augere. I asked Mr. Augere to leave the room to help put Jason more at ease. He was reluctant but he did go. I thought maybe you could talk to Jason. I know you have a good rapport with him.”

“Yes, of course, let me talk to him.” Allen handed his cell phone to Jason, stating, “It’s James,” and stayed close to him, in case he tried to make any other call.

Jason seemed reluctant and ambivalent about taking the phone.

“I am so sorry to hear of your distress, Jason. Please, tell me what we can do to help you.”

Hearing the familiar, kind voice only made the whole matter worse. He had trusted Genier. He liked him immensely. He had been a source of comfort and support. And now he had to face the fact that Genier, that all of them, had known—all along—about all of this and they had knowingly kept it from him, putting him in great danger.

This act of betrayal deeply wounded him.

“When I started this job I understood it was at will, and that I was allowed to leave if I wanted to. Now it seems I can’t. My passport has been taken. I am being held here against my will. And I haven’t…” his voice nearly broke then. He had been about to say he had done nothing wrong, but in their eyes that wasn’t true. Whether this whole thing had happened accidentally or was some elaborately planned occurrence—the outcome was still the same. They could not let him live knowing the secret he had discovered. He set the phone down on the table and began to pace the room again. He would have tried for the door while Allen was on the phone, but he knew: Augere would be just outside. There was no escape.

Allen picked up the phone.

“This is much worse than I thought.” James was very concerned. “His voice…he sounds so distraught. I guess I can’t blame him though. Learning the truth about Augere and then seeing those portal things as well. All of it at once must have been too much for him. I really thought he was going to be able to handle this. And Mr. Augere said the same thing when he called me earlier; he said ‘he will be all right.’ I feel so terrible for Jason’s sake. For both of them actually.”

“Augere said he tried to get Jason to talk to him, and he refused.”

“I’m sure he will still come around. I think he probably just needs some rest and time to recover. To come to grips with this and then go on. You or I can talk to him, explain all that needs to be explained. We definitely don’t want another Landy situation—”

“No—and that is NOT going to happen.”

“Keep Augere away from him for a while yet. And maybe delay the trip home for several—”

“I don’t think so, James. He is adamant, not just about going home, to Boston. He says he wants to go to Minnesota to be with his family. I offered him the option to spend some time there, a few weeks or a month, if he needs that, to put things in perspective; take time to sort things out and then come back to work. I have tried to reassure him. But—I just can’t seem to get through to him. He is saying he wants out altogether. He said he needs to end this.”

“Oh, no. As bad as that? This is just terrible. I am truly sorry to hear that. I really think he just needs some time…”

“I know. I agree. He is in no shape to make such a big decision right now. And I have said that to him. But if he doesn’t snap out of it by tomorrow when he has to get on that plane, there could be trouble. We can’t just let him go. This trip is not going to be easy. We have to figure out a way to do this. I’m already worried about getting through security and customs. And if this means an actual termination, he would have to abide by the confidentiality agreement that goes into effect with that. And I know he is just not in the right frame of mind to handle signing that additional document right now.”

Jason, pacing the room, strained to hear the conversation, and was able to overhear just fragments of what Allen was saying: “need to end this” and “let him go” and “termination” “figure out a way to do this.” They were clearly discussing him, and their plans for him. And it was just what he suspected. It made him feel physically sick with fresh fear and he was even more certain of his fate now. There seemed to be no hope for him.

“We would have to delay all of that protocol, of course and accept the risk, I guess. It could be dealt with at a later time. I am so sorry to hear this. I really had hoped he would work out. He seems like such a good choice.” James paused, upset at the thought of losing Jason. Then he thought of a bigger concern.

“Does Augere know he wants to leave?” he asked Allen.

“Not yet, no. Not in so many words.”

James sighed heavily. “I’ll try to reach him again after I talk to you. How do you think we should proceed right now?”

“Personally, I think we should send him home and just give him time to think things over. Even though he seems determined right now to end his employment he could change his mind and decide otherwise. But maybe for his peace of mind we might have to let him go, or at least let him think so, if that is really the only thing we can do to help him right now. We could go along with what he wants and act as if we have formally released him. If that will help his state of mind.”

“I see…yes. Go through the motions as if we have terminated him at his request, but not actually do so. I think that might be a good option. It would buy him, and us, some time.”

“If he does decide not to come back, we could always do the formalities later and terminate officially. Hopefully, it won’t come to that.”

“Okay, yes, agreed.” The two went on to discuss plane travel and the logistics of getting Jason safely to his chosen destination without incident.

With some of the arrangements made, and still several calls to be completed, Allen offered Jason some brandy. He was glad when Jason accepted and drank it. He needed a shot of brandy for himself, but didn’t dare just yet. There was tea and sandwiches, soup and fruit. Jason eyed all of it with no interest although he was actually quite hungry. He thought about eating a piece of fruit but could not. Globus hystericus. Even in his present tortured state he somehow recalled that piece of trivia. A lump sat in his throat.

After Allen had eaten a small meal, there was a knock at the door. Allen admitted a tall muscular young man, the kind of person one associated with bodyguard; bouncer; hit man. Allen told Jason “Nick” would be keeping them company tonight and traveling with them tomorrow. The sight of the man filled Jason with new dread and panic. He was almost certainly a hired killer. Of course, the Geniers might not be personally responsible for any crimes. Maybe they even managed to keep Augere out of it. They would hire someone else to do it. His situation was truly hopeless. On some deeper level, Jason felt maybe he was being irrational. Intellectually, he knew exhaustion, shock and paranoia were working on him. The slow but certain mental confirmation of Augere’s true existence had seemed less of a surprise somehow. A part of him had known it, but had still protected his conscious mind from accepting it as true. It had been just too hard to believe it. Now fear for his life had taken over as his main concern. He was being ruled by emotions he could not seem to keep in control. Every rational thought was pushed aside and replaced by an irrational one. He got up and continued to pace the room in a state of confusion and exhaustion; he just could not sit still. He couldn’t think straight anymore. He was so weary, so tired.

Allen continued making phone calls and arrangements.

There was one bed in the room, and Jason refused to lie down. Allen finally rested on the bed, still fully dressed for the most part while his hired accomplice kept watch over Jason. It was nearly 1 a.m. when Jason finally dozed briefly in one of the chairs. They had managed to make it through the night without incident.

In the morning, a full breakfast was sent to the room for all of them. Jason was mostly mute, refusing to engage with either man. He still could not eat or drink. Allen left to go to his own room to shower, change clothes, and check out, and then moved into Jason’s room. They secured the room past check out to be able to take a rescheduled late afternoon flight, now going to New York, a fact which Allen had not shared with Jason.

They would have to get to the airport two hours early. Allen wanted to cut it close, reasoning the less time spent in public the better. He was hoping Jason would not make a scene there. He had a contingency plan just in case. Nick was an EMT, who could administer via hypodermic some of the sedative medication he had brought with him if the situation called for it. Allen hated the thought of going that route, but he was prepared to do what was best for all of them. He tried to envision the worst case scenario so they could all be prepared. They had acquired a “doctor’s note” and prescription for the medication for the patient, whom it was explained in the documentation, was suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder, of undisclosed origin, but was safe to travel with “his attorney” and medical personnel, so they could get through customs and security without raising much suspicion. Basically they needed to keep Jason as calm as possible.

Just after breakfast, Allen received a phone call from Augere. He had learned from James what Allen had been reluctant to tell him: that Jason wanted to terminate his employment.

“If that is what he has decided,” Augere said brusquely, “then let him do so.”

Allen suspected what this meant. Augere’s tone had confirmed the finality of it: he had decided Jason was to be permanently released from his position. He was done.

Augere paused a few moments. The tone of his next words was less harsh: “I will depend on you to see to it that he arrives at his family’s home safely.”

“I plan to personally take him there to be certain of it,” Allen promised.

This was sad indeed. The two brothers had sought to give Jason the time and distance they felt he needed to pull himself together and then resume his employment with Augere.

Augere saw the situation differently.

This presented a complication. Once released from his position, Jason, as with any assistant who knew the truth about Augere, was required to sign a new confidentially agreement, one that would now reflect the fact he did know the truth. And part of that agreement was that it was understood, under penalty of death, the assistant would not reveal the secret he had learned. Now, Jason did have reason to fear for his life, if he attempted to tell anyone what he knew. In his present state of mind, the brothers worried this would put Jason further over the edge. They were loath to tell him the new circumstances.

But it seemed it could not be helped.

It was almost heartless, Jason thought, the way they were going out of their way to let him think, to let him believe, that they were allowing him to go home. He showered and put on fresh clothes, moving in slow motion, more numb than lethargic.

They sat with the TV on, the three of them, in Jason’s room, none of them really watching or paying attention to it. Jason still thought of escape; his body was slow to respond but his thoughts were still racing. He knew he probably could not get away from Augere. He considered that the airport, and going through security, would be his chance, maybe his only chance. He doubted Augere or the other guy would try to kill him in front of all those people. Maybe he could request asylum at the airport?

Where was Augere? Jason had not seen him since last evening. He felt such a deep pang of regret. Augere. He could not bear the thought of what was unfolding. The loss of all of it… Maybe dying would not be so bad after all.

Finally, it was time to go to the airport. And there was still no sign of Augere. Maybe he was already there, waiting. To avoid being seen with them. Yes, that must be it. A smart idea probably. Jason envisioned a scene where he pleaded with Augere for his life.

When they checked out of the hotel, Jason overheard Allen confirm airport transport for three people. So Augere would not be accompanying them to the airport. His curiosity temporarily overcame his fear. I really just need to know exactly what is going on. He asked Allen if Augere was flying with them.

“No. He checked out of the hotel yesterday, as soon as Nick arrived. He stayed at an airport hotel last night, and then he took an earlier flight today as had been decided.”

So Augere was not going to be the one to kill him. Nor was he going to be present when it was done. Not directly and personally involved. He will be nowhere around when this happens to me, Jason thought. This caused a perverse, and temporary, moment of peace in Jason. It won’t be him.

Allen misinterpreted Jason’s briefly calm expression as relief at Augere’s absence. “Don’t worry,” He reassured Jason. “You will never have to see him again.”

Then the implication that Augere had already left threw him. Jason felt as if he was already in the depths of misery but Allen’s words made him sink even lower. A new anguish took hold of him now, much sharper and more painful than anything he had felt yet. You will never have to see him again.

I did not do anything wrong, he told himself again, for all of this to be happening to me. He had given up everything—his job and his home, and now he had to die for it as well? And none of this was his fault. He did nothing to cause any of this to happen. You will never see him again. Jason was in total despair and overwhelmed with a profound sadness bordering on grief.

He walked numbly, passively through the airport. Allen retained hold of their two passports. The man who now accompanied them, Nick, seemed to keep constant watch over Jason but didn’t interact with him. Jason figured he knew why: don’t get friendly with someone whom you intend to kill. Keep the interactions impersonal and to a minimum.

“We have time to stop at Harrods duty free,” Allen was saying to him. “I don’t know why, but Mums always seems to want a little something from Harrods.” He looked at Jason for some response. There was a blank stare. “I have to stop and buy something, because I will be going on to New Orleans before I fly back home to London. And if I don’t bring something for my mum, there will be trouble.” He laughed, trying to lighten the somber mood somewhat. “You could pick out something to bring home for your mum too,” Allen suggested. “I would be glad to pay for it. Choose whatever you think she might like. Choose several items if you want.”

Jason looked at him with a glum expression and shook his head. Again it all seemed unnecessarily cruel. They were really playing this thing out. No I am not going to fall for the cannoli charade, like in that movie, going along like everything will be all right. They were trying to go out of their way to make it seem and to make him believe he was actually going home. It nearly brought him to tears, the thought he would not ever see his mother, or any of his family, again.

Jason had decided if he was going to make a break for it, he would wait until he was at least back in the U.S. He felt reasonably certain they would not try to kill him off in such a public place as this. He would actually feel safer on the airplane. He might even be able to get some much needed sleep. He was going to need to be well rested in the coming hours if he was going to have any chance to survive this.

Once Allen had completed his Harrods shopping it was nearly time to board the plane taking them to New York. They would change planes there after a brief layover, to continue on to the Minneapolis/St. Paul airport. At least that’s what Jason was told.

Jason was more or less forced by the other two into the window seat. He would have preferred the aisle. Allen, and then Nick, occupied the two seats next to him. Within ten minutes after takeoff, Jason was already soundly asleep, unable to fight fatigue any longer.

He started awake several times. Images of glowing red eyes and the loud, angry snort of a monstrous beast disturbed his slumber. Another image startled him awake: pale slender fingers reaching for his neck…ready to rip into him… Finally, exhaustion once again won out over the horrific images and blessed sleep followed.

He had slept for a few hours when he awoke with a start and realized he was on an airplane. The window shade had been pulled down and he guessed it was still daytime. Allen dozed in the seat beside him. His watcher on the aisle looked up at him briefly from the thriller novel he was reading and then resumed after the quick pause.

Jason had a headache. He was very thirsty. He felt somewhat rested and a little less fearful at the moment, but the level of anxiety remained fairly steady. He sat with his eyes closed, his muscles stiff, his body uncomfortable in the cramped, too warm airplane.

After a half hour or so, Allen awoke. He asked Jason how he was doing. Allen rang for the steward, and obtained Cokes, ice water, and headache remedy for both of them.

They sat in silence for several minutes.

“You…your family…you have always known about him?” Jason asked suddenly, curiosity getting the better of him.

“Yes. Always,” Allen replied with a nod.

“That…he kills people…” Jason tried to whisper. “…and, you just accept that…you protect him?” Jason was genuinely curious suddenly.

Allen sighed deeply. “I have no personal knowledge that he has done so. Well, in the past yes. Long ago. And I do know he has hurt people.” They were both silent again.

“There is a lot he could have explained. If you had been able to talk to him,” Allen stated. “As far as any of us can remember he has always looked out for the safety and wellbeing of my family. As we have done for him. We understand he is not responsible for his condition, this situation that happened to him. He had no choice in the matter. We don’t judge or condemn him for what he is. Or for what he must do.”

Jason realized there truly was a lot he did not know. A lot he would never know now. And he was very curious to know it all. It would be the last time he might ever be able to learn anything. Not that it would matter anymore.

“Your family has been involved with his family for a very long time.”

“He has no family. No one.”

“Well, not now, maybe. But in the past. I looked it up online. Your family and his family go way back, even before the Civil War—”

“No member of my family has ever met any member of his family.”

“But I saw the records: at least several generations of Geniers, linked with the name of the Augeres—”

“Many generations of Geniers, yes.” Allen turned his head to look at Jason directly. “But one, and only one, Augere.”

This information was trying to take hold in his mind. It just did not seem possible. He thought he had finally understood. And now it seemed he really knew nothing. He was just at the very beginning of understanding… He had another question.

“Has there ever been any other, like me? Some kind of assistant, I mean—”

“Yes,” Allen replied, nodding. “Many others.”

Jason was a little shocked. It didn’t seem possible there could have been. He’s only twenty-something…no. He would have to stop thinking of him that way. Well, again not that it mattered anymore, he thought sadly.

“What happened to them?” Jason felt bolder about asking. Had they all shared this same fate? Would Allen actually be honest enough to tell him what had happened to them?

Allen shrugged. “Two of them live in London. Two others live elsewhere in the U.S.; I’m not really sure of their exact locations just off the top of my head.”

Jason was stunned. “These others—they did not know about him? Did they—what were the circumstances—that they left?“

“All of them knew, eventually. Most of them retired after a number of years.”

Retired? Jason was having a hard time getting his mind around all this. He wasn’t at all unique. There had been others. Others who knew. And they had survived. He was suddenly fascinated.

The cabin crew came around with breakfast and much welcomed coffee. Jason was starving. He ate hungrily. As he had more coffee as he wondered about all Allen had told him.

Maybe all this information was just a clever ruse. Just a way to calm and distract him. He would be easier to control if he was kept calm. “Tell him whatever he wants to hear.” And it was working. He needed to keep his guard up. Don’t become complacent. He knew, he felt it clearly; he was still in great danger.

The plane landed in New York. They had an hour and twenty minutes until they had to board their connecting flight. Jason was being watched closely by both men. If he was going to make a break for it, it was going to be difficult.

He would simply have to run through the airport. He would attract the attention of security. And then he would have to tell them something.

You will never have to see him again. Allen’s words were a haunting echo in his mind.

“What happens now?” Jason asked, wondering what new subterfuge they would use on him. He doubted he would hear anything like the truth. But the lie might give him some clue. Perhaps he needed to wait until they landed in Minnesota. If that was even going to happen. He was sick at the pit of his stomach now. He really liked Allen; he seemed as kind and genuinely concerned for his welfare as James had been. And look where it has gotten you. Why did things have to be this way? He almost wished it would just come to an end. But he was too stubborn to just give in.

Allen had to hazard a guess as to what Jason meant by his question. He sensed the emotional turmoil and confusion had to be horrible for him. How very small though, were the number of people who ever had to cope with the challenges Augere presented in just working with him.

He had told his brother James in the past that just being in Augere’s presence in itself was a little daunting. On the few occasions he had actually ever seen Augere he was usually ignored by him. James was the one who had the rapport; the who saw him and spoke to him most often. The one who dealt with all of the day to day things.

“He does like you, Allen,” James had assured him in the past. “He is confident that you are more than capable of handling this crisis,” James had told him over the phone yesterday.

“I will handle this,” Allen had stated. “It’s him that gives me pause. I actually like him too, though I don’t know him as well as you do. All of you in New Orleans are used to it—to being around him. For me, just seeing him—it’s a little hard for me to take my eyes off of him, much less try to stay focused and concentrate. He is still mesmerizing to me. And knowing all that we know about him, I still find it quite incredible myself, even after all this time. I can begin to imagine what it must be like for someone like Jason to encounter him even without knowing the truth and then have to be around him all the time.”

James had laughed. “It only seems like we are more used to him. I am often in awe of him myself.”

“Anyway, he has actually been quite nice to me. Very pleasant, even under these very stressful circumstances. And appreciative of my efforts in this matter.”

“You see? I told you.”

Allen took a deep breath before he began to answer Jason’s question as to what would happen now.

“Well, having voluntarily terminated your employment, what will happen now is you will have a reasonable amount of time to vacate the living quarters. Probably all that will be arranged for you, under the circumstances.” Allen saw no reason to tell Jason Augere had formally terminated him. What difference did that make now?

Jason looked at him, uncertain what he meant exactly. Then he thought, Right; because I won’t be alive to do it.

“There may be some sort of severance, but I am not sure, as you were employed less than a year. James will know more about that. It is usually negotiated with Mr. Augere. Letters of reference will be provided, of course.

“There is a carefully worded termination agreement you must sign. In fact that must occur today because of present circumstances. It stipulates that you agree to all the terms and that you must remain silent about anything and everything related to Mr. Augere. There would be very serious consequences should you violate that agreement.” Now was as good a time as any to bring it up, Allen thought. Jason clearly knew what Augere was now; and now he would know the burden of keeping that secret. “And then hopefully, you go on to a happy and prosperous life.”

Jason could make no comment. He was in a state of weary confusion and nothing seemed to be clear to him anymore. A lot of things were weighing heavily on his mind. He had been in fear for his life consistently for more than twenty-four hours; longer if he included the encounter with that terrifying portal thing in the woods near Highgate. He had steadily been experiencing the worst fear he had ever known in his life.

He was quiet during the entire flight to Minnesota.

They landed and deplaned. He had not called his family to tell them he was coming home. He had not been able to believe it himself. And he did not believe it was going to happen now. It was heartbreaking to be so close, and not be able to see or talk to them. This felt like an even sharper cruelty.

They got through baggage claim. A young man approached Allen. He had brought documents that needed to be signed and witnessed. Jason did as he was told. He glanced over the documents, without really giving them much of his scattered attention, and signed all of them. They were just words on a page; meaningless to him in his present state. He received a copy of the confidentiality agreement he had just signed. Then the three followed the young man out to the parking area where a rental car was waiting.

This is it. This could be my last chance to make a break for it.

It was cold. Bitter cold. He wasn’t even dressed properly for this kind of weather. It didn’t matter. Once he got away, he would call his family for help.

But the warm car was right there. He got in with the others. He numbly provided the address. He felt close to tears. This was it. His life would be over soon. He hoped the method of his death was not going to be painful or prolonged. He wondered where they were really taking him. How it would be done.

They pulled up to his parents’ house. Only 5:00 p.m. and the sky was dark already. It was snowing lightly, adding to the few inches of snow already on the ground. Lights were on in the kitchen and the living room. At least someone was home. Jason got out of the car. Here? They were going to kill him right here? In front of his family’s home? Yes…he guessed it made some sense. His family would find his body…how tragic…someone had murdered him, so close to home and safety…

The young man got Jason’s luggage out of the trunk of the car. The other’s luggage had been left at the airport. They would be returning there, and then splitting up, Allen had said. He repeated he was flying on to New Orleans to spend a few days with his family.

The cold air felt good to Jason. It revived him a little. Made him feel more alive…ironically.

Now Allen was standing beside the car with him. He clasped both of Jason’s hands in his. “You see? I promised I’d get you home safe. And I have done so. Take care now, Jason. Best of luck to you.” He clasped him warmly in a genuinely friendly hug, as tightly as a loving brother.

Then he got back into the car with the others.

Jason stood there numb and uncertain for several moments. Then the cold air prompted him to ring the doorbell. The men in the car waited until someone answered the door. Waited until Jason was safe inside, with his family. He stood shivering for several moments. Then the door opened.

His mom let out a joyful sound at the unexpected sight of him and threw her arms around him. The rest of the family soon came to the door to see what the commotion was. Jason glanced over his shoulder in time to see the car drive off.

Everyone was so touched to see how emotional and tearful Jason was to see all of them. How tightly he clasped each one of them, and held them for a long interval while still standing in the open doorway. They pulled him inside out of the cold finally, laughing and joking loudly and glad to have all of the family together again.

Only Jason knew the real reasons for his tears.

Chapter 20

Debriefing

Augere entered his house in New Orleans and let the heavy wooden door close behind him. He let his single piece of luggage drop to the floor with a thud as he stepped inside the dark foyer.

He breathed in the familiar comfort of the sweet scent of old things, things that had remained just as he had left them. Except for the dim glow of several faux candles in Victorian styled sconces on several of the walls, a reassuring darkness welcomed him home.

He walked to his immediate right through a small elegant parlor and then continued from there along a narrow hallway, the only small closed space on the planet that did not make him feel claustrophobic. He arrived at a small half rounded room, the lower part of a two story tower that jutted from of the side of the house. This small room was dark and would have been darker still if not for the tall, narrow stained glass window. This allowed numerous colors to be illuminated and fanned out by sunlight spreading soothing, jewel-toned light effects against the opposite wall.

He paused next to a small dark wooden table flush against one wall. A tall Gothic arched mirror hung above the table. Half a dozen small flameless candles were placed in an orderly fashion on the black marble surface of the table and were reflected in the mirror making the number of them seem greater though the batteries of several of these had burned out in his absence. He replaced several of those, which did little in the way of banishing the dark, and then rested several fingertips on the edge of the table. His eyes traveled over the various drawings displayed there. Some of these he had done himself, and others had been made by various artists over the years using his assistance in describing the remembered features, rendered in various artistic media. The image of a young girl with long dark hair and large eyes of a sad shade of blue gazed back at him. Color and black and white images and different serenely elegant poses had attempted to capture the beauty of the sister he had lost so many, many decades ago.

He felt closest to her here. This made no sense. She was long dead, over two hundred and twenty years ago, and buried farther than an ocean away. She had never been to this place. But often he thought he felt her spirit here. It might be because he wished it were so.

Whether pleasant or not, memory sometimes became a torment to him, with insistently remembered details.

Delphine had possessed a wisdom few adults seemed to hold. For her young years, she talked of a great many things with such certain knowledge he could not doubt much of what she said. She knew and spoke of things in the future, some of which had come to pass in her and his lifetime. She seemed an old soul, who might have lived many lifetimes before the one he knew. She did not see the end of her own life arriving so soon, or if she did she never made mention of it. “I do not understand,” she had said to him just days before her death, “why I must go and leave all of you now.” She was a musical prodigy with an untrained voice so pure and beautiful that people, not the least of all their mother, often wept upon hearing her sing. He thought of all of the beauty of her once again, gone too soon.

“Je suis seule a nouveau, Delphine.” He spoke the words aloud but softly and with a measure and depth of sadness he never allowed himself to show to anyone. “Alone. I have no choice but to go on even though I scarcely have the heart for it.”

He began to recite in French a poem they had memorized together as children: Larmes des anges, about the power of the tears of angels. Delphine thought they might need to call upon the power of such angels one day, and she thought it best to know how one might reach them. Augere indulged her; she was only nine at the time and he was the older brother; her protector and her constant companion.

They had kept the poem a secret between them. Even as children they realized their mother’s superstitions about angels seemed unreasonable. Her gypsy leanings were full of drama and she was often given to spells of melancholy. It distressed her when people remarked how beautiful her children were, and she became more frightened of her children attracting unwanted attention after the death of her oldest child, Amandine. In particular she had become fearful of them drawing the attention of such beings as angels. She had often warned Laurent and Delphine “the envy of angels is not something to be desired. They will appear to grant your wish but may do so for spite, or out of jealousy or for their own purposes.” And so he Delphine had grown up with a fear of such creatures, as if they were quite real. But in the weeks before she died, before anyone knew how ill Delphine really was, she told him of an encounter with “un somber ange qui apparait comme un etre de lumiere et qui a le pouvoir de conferer la vie eternelle.” The words uttered so long ago, and all but forgotten amidst all the events that had transpired since, often came back to haunt him now: a dark angel who appears as a being of light and who has the power to bestow eternal life. He had never shared these words with anyone else. They had seemed at the time naught but the ravings of a child who was probably already doomed by illness.

He sat alone now in near darkness, in a black soft fabric upholstered chair alongside the table shrine, thinking. For a long time he had not been able to unravel the mystery of those words. But in time they had come to have a permanently chilling meaning for him. At times he would dwell on this and at other times push such thoughts away.

“One full of emotion; intelligence; charming and entertaining this one was, Delphine. Something to draw near and absorb meaning from and try to experience what the present world is all about and even in its horrible state, what it has to offer. Now, gone, and such as yourself, all but lost to me. Though I feel the permanence of it may yet remain to be seen. It is I who decides.”

By his will, he believed, he could reverse it. But such gain meant little to him when it had to be forced.

****

On Tuesday morning, several members of the Genier law firm were gathered at their office in the French Quarter. They rarely used their office for such meetings, but the group expected today was a small one. They were still awaiting the arrival of Allen Genier, who had flown in late the evening before, and Mr. Augere, who had arrived in New Orleans early Sunday evening.

James had been in fairly regular contact with Allen over the past forty-eight hours, but he had been unable to speak with Augere except once, and then just briefly. Which was rather unusual, given the circumstances. And during that quick conversation, Augere’s only terse comment was that he would attend the debriefing.

The events that had preceded and necessitated this debriefing were somewhat unusual for most of them. In the twenty-five years James had worked closely with Augere, there had been only the one assistant during that long interval though James was also acquainted with that assistant’s predecessors, three to be exact, who were still living. Augere had lost other assistants before, in the distant past, for various reasons, but none of those was within recent memory. Those who had left were known to James, but he had not had an actual part in the process of them leaving. Not like this time. He had had to consult their firm’s policy on this. He consulted the Archives as well, to see how Augere had handled these kinds of things. The Archives had not been much help in this situation. This case, as did the other ones, had its own unique circumstances.

James was standing near the doorway to the meeting room speaking with Allen when Augere arrived. James interrupted his conversation to approach Augere. “Can I have a word with you please—”

“Not now. After.” Augere walked briskly past him and for several moments he stood at the round table behind what would be, whether here or elsewhere, his designated place, next to James. He was taking in all who were present, but without actually looking at any of them. Then he sat down.

Augere’s abruptness, a rare rebuff between the two of them, was quickly forgiven by James. The last forty-eight hours had been highly stressful for all of them. Scarcely anyone knew better than James just how difficult Augere could be at times and occasionally there might be short lived tension between the two of them. This moment was too soon to determine Augere’s mood: angry? Upset? Indifferent? Whatever it was James hoped to get through the meeting quickly with a minimum of discomfort all around.

James began the proceedings by entering, for the purpose of the minutes, which his assistant Mariette recorded, the names of everyone present. Besides himself, Allen, Augere and Mariette, there was Sean Genier; Chanel Genier, from accounting; Charles Genier, attorney; Adam Genier, archive/record keeping as well as technical support; Ryan Genier, a law school student, who was James’ nephew and who, along with his cousins Nicholas and Farren Genier, also present, had newly gained positions within the company. All of them had already acknowledged and signed the requisite confidentiality agreements, regarding Augere in particular. Relatively few people, even among the inner circle of family, knew the full truth about Augere. The presence today of the three newest members of the firm meant they were forever restrained from revealing any part of Augere’s secret to the world. They understood their family took this oath very seriously. But James braced himself now for Augere’s reaction to their presence. There had been no time to confer with him prior to the young men’s appearance at the meeting, and Augere hated surprises such as these. It was not a good time to spring this on him, James knew, from the very limited number of previous such encounters in the past. But James had his argument ready: these young men were to be the next generation. If they were going to be of any use to Augere, they would need to know about the kinds of situations they might encounter when working closely with him. Situations like this one did not come up often. James took a chance on inviting them without first informing Augere for that reason: a learning experience like no other. He observed Augere’s cold glance in their direction, and a barely perceptible look of dismay, the tip of the iceberg, James knew from experience, but Augere did not look at James, nor make any comment about them.

“As most of you may already know, we are here for a debriefing. Unfortunately, Jason Sterling has decided to leave his position. I know I speak for most of us, those who have met him certainly, when I say we regret this decision, but it appears he—”

Augere interrupted the proceedings by removing a cell phone from the inner pocket of his jacket and sliding it across the table toward James.

“This needs to be attended to as soon as possible. Also, I am requesting all contact be severed as quickly as it is feasible to do so, as per company policy.” Augere’s voice was calm and measured, James noted, as he nodded his assent and began jotting notes on a yellow legal pad. He put the cell phone into his pocket.

“Under the circumstances,” Augere continued, “it may be ill advised for the assistant to have access to the house to remove personal items. I am suggesting a bonded company be retained for that purpose.”

James nodded as he continued to write. This was common procedure also. Nothing out of the ordinary. He didn’t mind Augere taking over the meeting. Though the Geniers always offered any assistance where the monitoring of his assistants was concerned, the exact details and decisions were always Augere’s realm. They always deferred to his judgment in his personal matters, although they might offer advice and assistance when it seemed appropriate or needed.

“I would also prefer you attempt to spare a family member to oversee that process.” He looked directly at James. “To insure there is no loss or breakage.” Augere paused for a moment, as if in thought. “Remy would be a good choice. Or Parker perhaps.”

James looked up at him, pen poised over his list.

“Remy left on a two week vacation yesterday. Parker’s wife is about to give birth.”

“Vacation?” Augere asked and then added with mock seriousness: “Is he not always on vacation?”

Gentle laughter percolated through the room.

“Perhaps he can be persuaded to return,” Augere suggested.

James winced as he made a notation. Then he looked up at Augere expectantly. But it appeared he had concluded what he had to say.

“Okay, then. It would be helpful to look at this situation to determine what went right particularly; and how we might have handled things differently where things did not.” He gazed around the room.

“I have not yet spoken to Allen. I want to hear how the situation proceeded.” Augere stated, fixing a steady gaze on Allen’s face.

Allen nodded, surprising himself at how calm and composed he was in Augere’s presence once again. Maybe, after all this time, he was finally getting to be just a little more comfortable around Augere.

“I did just as you asked. I got Jason to his family’s home safely. Those present witnessed him enter the house and he was left in the company of his family as we departed. I have nothing to add after that moment as far as we are concerned.”

Augere nodded; Allen took that as his way of expressing gratitude.

“We are all grateful for that,” James continued. “As to what went wrong—”

“I take responsibility,” Augere began, interrupting James.

James was shaking his head. “Certainly no one blames you. If you care to, you may tell us all of the details, from your perspective. Actually we need to record all of it for the Archives anyway…” James paused. The Archives were never a popular subject with Augere. He tried to give Augere an out for now. They would have to get as many details as possible from Jason himself too, but that would have to be at some point in the future. “Suffice it to say there was an encounter with things none of us would ever really want or expect to see. I have no doubt you handled this the best you could, under the circumstances, insuring Jason’s safety as well as maintaining the protection of your privacy.”

All of them were staring at Augere now, trying to imagine what horrors Jason Sterling must have witnessed.

Augere made no reply. His expression betrayed a rarely seen tension now in the form of a deep frown. In fact there seemed to be a general sense of unease, and though it did seem to emanate from Augere, James picked up on a general tension in the room. He had long since become used to such subtleties and had learned to pay attention. Augere did not appear to be inclined to make further comment.

James turned his attention to his brother.

“Allen, in your conversations with Jason—what did he say to you exactly? About what happened?”

“Is this necessary?” Augere asked, an unexpectedly sharp tone to his voice.

“Just to clarify his state of mind; so we can know what thoughts were occurring to him in all of this…”

“Suffice it to say,” Augere replied tersely.

James acknowledged the comment with a nod in Augere’s direction. He turned his attention to Allen. Augere was in rare form today. But then, events like those of the previous forty-eight hours hardly occurred often for him either and this incident had put him in a bad humor. As might well be expected, James would agree, though it seemed this was not usually the case, at least not historically per the Archives James had glanced through, cross referenced regarding previous such incidents: Augere generally took these things, rare or not, in stride.

“Overall, as I shared with you before, he seemed quite fearful,” Allen began. “Even beyond what he must have witnessed, I thought, and beyond what his reaction to that might have been. There was a sense he believed he was still going to come to great harm. Even after he was safely away from—from that event—and from that situation. He just about expressed as much to me.”

“Did he give any indication why he thought that? Why he was feeling that way?”

“I had informed him of the consequences of speaking about any of what had occurred,” Augere stated coolly after glancing up toward the ceiling briefly, and then folding his arms over his chest.

Allen nodded. “He did mention some of that to me. He just stated he wished to go home to his family. And he kept insisting he would tell no one. That we could trust him. I recall him stating, ‘you don’t have to do this.’ I had no idea what he was talking about.”

James seemed to be reflecting on that. “Yes…that doesn’t seem to fully reflect the fear he expressed, however…he was told not to tell anyone about anything he had seen, as well as nothing about Mr. Augere…which is protocol and would be the right thing to say to him. He insisted he would not tell…then why was he still so afraid? I agree when I spoke to him once he was safe back at the hotel he sounded both angry and distraught, even, it seemed, all out of proportion to what had occurred. It seemed as if things did not need to escalate to the outcome they did… Or—am I missing something?”

“It was puzzling to me as well. I just did not get a clear sense of what was going on in his mind. I still think he was in a state of shock; not thinking as rationally as he might, and I thought he would be fine, or at least calmer and more rational, after he had had time to absorb the shock, and hopefully be able to put everything into perspective,” Allen stated. “And he may do so yet.” He shot a quick nervous glance at Augere after he said this, adding “But then of course, he is already terminated, however.”

“Perhaps, in a few weeks, when he has had time to get past this, I can interview him over the phone and get a broader sense of what was going on with him then. If he is willing to speak to me.” James glanced up to see Augere shaking his head. “Or not.” He sighed. “Although it appears we can conclude what likely caused his decision to leave, we will wait until we have had an opportunity to discuss this with him further before we record any of that for the Archives.”

It seemed two of the principal people involved were able to reach a consensus while Augere declined to make any further comment or acknowledgement either way.

“As to what went right, I think it was a great idea Mr. Augere had, to secure the passport early on,” Allen stated. “And in taking such proactive measures, such as notifying me at the first sign there was the potential for a problem, I was able to be right there, at what turned out to be a crucial time.”

“And having a contingency plan worked out quite well, too, I think,” James stated. “The body guard EMT you retained was a good choice. It freed you up to attend to any other matters, while making sure someone was with Jason at all times. I think that went a long way toward preventing a more serious situation. It probably protected everyone’s safety.”

“And Mr. Augere’s decision to leave separately made a good deal of sense,” Allen added.

Augere nodded his agreement.

“Is there anything else we could have done differently? Any other comments on our actions?” James gazed at the faces around the table. “Does anyone have any questions about the procedures that were followed?” He paused for several moments. “We should plan to implement these steps in the event of future incidents such as this one. There is just one more thing if we have concluded with the debriefing then, before we can adjourn for brunch.”

James focused his attention on Augere. “Several unexpected expenses were incurred.” James recited from a list. “Additional hotel expenses-- the Airport Hilton, and Allen’s stay at the Richmond hotel; food expenses; plane tickets and change fees plus the additional cost for Allen and Nick’s flights; retaining Nick’s services; rental car in Minnesota, and the flight for Charles to deliver the papers to be signed and witnessed there.” James paused. “Seventy-five euros—at Harrods—?” He glanced up at Allen with a questioning look.

Allen quickly stated, “That’s mine, I’ll get that.”

Augere responded with a shake of his head. “I will cover that.”

Allen acknowledged Augere’s generosity with a smile and a nod at him. Then James mentioned Jason’s additional unplanned airfare to Minnesota, $560.

“I will not authorize it.” Augere shook his head. “That should be deducted from any monies owed.”

James nodded and made a notation, and then said to Augere, “And I do have some documents for you to sign, if you will wait once the others leave. Allen, will you stay briefly to witness the signatures, please?” Allen nodded assent. Augere had not yet acknowledged James’ request.

“Right. Well if our business is concluded for today then I guess it is time for brunch.”

Voices rose in excited chatter all around the table at the prospect of a lavish brunch at a local restaurant, to be paid for, as usual, by Augere and the Genier family. The brunches were customary after all meetings.

No one caught the movement, but suddenly Augere was standing too.

“I hardly think this situation is cause for a celebratory mood.” The sharp tone of his voice cut all of the chatter immediately. A deafening silence followed for several long moments.

“No. Of course it is not,” James stated in a quiet voice, meant to soothe. “No one meant any disrespect here.”

More heavy silence followed. Augere’s eyes were flashing ominously though his face was impassive.

“Maybe you could join us for once; we would welcome your company, certainly,” Charles was saying, with innocent sincerity. James winced and braced himself for what he sensed was coming as the words were spoken. Charles wasn’t used to attending these meetings as his presence wasn’t usually required. Nor was he much used to the presence of Augere. He didn’t know how these things usually went. And those were not the words one spoke in Augere’s presence. A palpable tension grew quickly and accompanied the heavy silence now.

“So I may observe all of you dining?” Augere’s voice was meant to inflict damage as he addressed the group as a whole. “Perhaps in turn I should insist all of you accompany me to a location of my choice so you may observe me during a meal.”

Among those present who knew the full truth about Augere, several faces tried to conceal involuntary expressions of horror as they imagined what that scenario would actually look like.

“Meeting adjourned,” James stated a little louder and more quickly than was necessary. All of the participants were already on their feet and scrambling for the door.

Then it was just James and Augere, with Allen standing near the doorway.

“Laurent…”

“What.” The word was spoken more sharply than Augere had intended. The two of them might occasionally bicker, but he was rarely so harsh with James.

James sighed. “Unless it is me that you are angry with, please stop,” he announced with a stern expression. After a moment’s pause his facial expression softened. “I want to express how very sorry all of us are about this turn of events. I want you to know I am especially sorry to see Jason go. Not that what I think really matters, I realize, but I really did like him.” James added with quiet sincerity, “We had all hoped for a different outcome.”

Augere did not speak nor look at James for several awkward moments. Allen’s posture shifted slightly as he waited uncertainly in the doorway. He too kept his eyes focused on Augere.

Then Augere shrugged one shoulder and without making eye contact he stated casually, dismissively, “Nothing gold can stay.” Then he gave James a brief, tense smile.

James studied him for several more moments. Though he knew him very well, maybe better than anyone else, Augere could still be quite hard to read at times. He had lost other assistants under awkward scenarios before, though none within James’ personal memory. Whether it was an amicable parting or the result of extremely unpleasant circumstances, it seemed Augere had maintained the same placid attitude. It had been noted by Genier ancestors he truly had not cared either way.

Now, under the calm acceptance James witnessed, he sensed an uncharacteristic response, an as yet indefinable emotion. It seemed this situation might have been particularly unpleasant for him.

James expressed a mental sigh at the thought this might mean months—years—of withdrawn brooding on Augere’s part. The less time he spent in human company, the less he wanted of it. The possibility was strong that Augere was going to be difficult for an extended period of time in the foreseeable future.

And they still had other business to conclude today. James hoped to get the remainder of it done as quickly as possible.

He removed some documents from a folder on the table and brought these to where Augere stood a few feet away.

“Here is the resignation form, and the newly prepared termination confidentiality statement. He already signed this TCS; it is the one Charles and Allen witnessed; you and I need to sign it as well.”

James was watching Augere’s facial expression closely. Augere had made the decision to terminate Jason, though Allen and he had been in favor of giving Jason time to think things through. They had held out hope that after a brief interval Jason would be okay with all of this again and would chose to return to work. But once Jason had expressed a desire to be free from his job, Augere had abruptly decided to give Jason exactly what he asked for, and he had determined the decision was to be final. Augere was highly unlikely to have second thoughts. It was useless to try to move Augere once he had made a decision. Jason Sterling was done.

“If you will just sign the resignation form, and the TCS, then Allen and I can sign the letters of reference, unless you want to sign those as well.” He paused, for effect, before stating, “And then we can put this matter to rest.” The sooner closure was reached, the better for all concerned.

He placed the several documents requiring signatures on the table in front of Augere and placed a pen alongside them.

“What is this?” Augere asked with disdain.

“Oh. Sorry.” James stood waiting for several moments after removing the offending ballpoint pen. “Don’t you have your fountain pen?”

“No. I do not.”

James wasn’t sure Augere was telling him the truth just then. It was possible of course, but very unlikely he didn’t have at least one of his fountain pens with him. He always carried one.

“Can’t you just sign these, please, just this one time, with the regular pen?”

“There is nothing regular about it. I cannot write with—that.”

“Laurent, please…”

He was shaking his head. “It will just have to wait until I have a proper writing instrument.” The irritation in his voice signaled the end of the discussion.

James sighed heavily as he gathered up the papers and replaced them into the folder. He wouldn’t win this. Augere took no notice of the small smile that appeared on James’ face briefly as he shook his head though. Then his expression turned solemn again. “Are you returning to Boston now?”

“No.” Augere’s soft tone of voice had returned.

“Good. You know I very much like having you here.” James paused. He glanced at Allen, still waiting patiently in the doorway and gave him a dismissive nod. Allen responded with a nod and quietly left. “Do you know when you will be returning to Boston?”

Augere quickly glanced away. “Must I decide at this very moment?” he asked with evident exasperation.

James stepped in closer then and hugged him, tightly, for several long moments without saying a word.

Then he said to him quietly, “This never really gets any easier does it?”

“No,” Augere replied, his voice just above a whisper.

Chapter 21

Minnesota

Jason’s family gathered around him, fussing over him, everyone all at once. They had been about to sit down to dinner and he was ushered into the kitchen where a hot plate of food was soon set down in front of him.

Each of his four family members barraged him with their own questions, all at the same time: “Why didn’t you let us know you were coming? I got your postcards—is the water in Venice dirty or does it just look that way? What did you bring me? How’s the job going, Jason? Yeah, what about that mysterious boss of yours? Were the French nice to you? When can we see your photos? What exactly do you do on your job? Hey, when can I come to Boston to visit? Tell us all about London—what did you see and do? Yeah, tell us—everything!”

Finally, his mom had to step in as she was pouring him a tall glass of ice tea without asking what he preferred: “Okay, okay, come on, you guys—give him a break. He just got in the door.” She loaded more roast pork and mashed potatoes onto his plate, though he’d barely touched what was already there. “Oh! Did you bring me something from Harrods?” She paused to ask him excitedly.

He stared at her for several moments with a pained expression. Her question seemed utterly surreal to him. “I guess…I should have,” he said to her meekly.

“Oh, that’s okay.” she said, trying to hide her very obvious disappointment. “How long can you stay, Jason?” she asked then, gently smoothing his thick spiky uncombed hair as she stood over him.

He shrugged. “A while.” They were all so happy to see him. Happy for his success; his chance to travel to exotic places, like the wonderful trip he had just taken. No way could he just blurt out he had been, was still, in fear for his life. That he was now jobless and homeless. He was barely able to process that information yet himself. He was so tired right now. He just wanted to be alone, but he didn’t want to be either. He was grateful to have a place to just be right now, a place that felt safe for the moment, with people who cared about him. But he really did need some time to be alone.

Jason was hungry but found he could eat very little. Soon, the plates were cleared and his mother was making coffee. It was his family’s habit to linger over coffee, dessert, conversation. And gradually, the focus of the conversation turned away from him, briefly. The icy fear that had gripped him for the past twenty-four hours slowly began to thaw in the warmth of his family’s kitchen.

After the rest of the dishes were finally cleared and put in the dishwasher, his mom stated she would make up the sofa bed downstairs for him. He had long ago lost the other half of the room he had shared with his younger brother Evan. It had been taken over by more of Evan’s stuff. Jason didn’t mind. He would have privacy and quiet in the basement at least. His mom insisted that he sit and relax when he offered to help her ready the area downstairs. He sipped at the hot coffee, which soothed his spirit just then, and stared out at the window at swirling snowflakes.

He visited his sister Carrie’s room, walking around and taking a casual glance at all of her gothy stuff as they chatted. He was pretending everything was normal. And by pretending, he helped to convince himself of it, at least for a little while.

It had especially pleased him when Carrie had taken an interest in goth aesthetics, seemingly independent of any influence from him. Had it been only a few months since he had left his family, and the relative normalcy of his life? So much had happened. It seemed like living at home had been another lifetime.

His forced normal facade seemed to be working for him at the moment but just being here was more surreal than all he had just been through. And it wasn’t over yet…When Carrie received a phone call from a friend, he departed to give her privacy. He tried to watch TV with his mom and dad, but he was too tired to concentrate and too restless to sit still. Intrusive thoughts of the past forty-eight hours greatly disturbed him, and he realized he did not want to be alone yet. But he had to keep everything bottled inside when he was around his family. He lingered as long as he could, but by 10:30 he was able to plead jet lag and exhaustion from a long day’s travel and he headed downstairs to try to sleep.

The finished basement wasn’t too bad really. He had his own bathroom and shower there, as well as his own TV. The sofa bed was fairly comfortable, the entire area rather cozy. And there was a second sofa bed, now being used just as a couch, and an end table with one lamp and a coffee table. Not nearly as nice as my own place, he thought, and then caught himself. He didn’t have a place anymore. He suddenly felt close to tears as he undressed and climbed into the warmth of several blankets and a big heavy comforter. He was almost instantly asleep.

He awoke early the next morning, to the long forgotten sounds of his family rushing to get themselves ready and out the door for the day. He pretended to still be asleep when he heard his mom creep part way down the stairs and softly call his name. Finally, the house was quiet again, and he went upstairs.

His mom had left breakfast for him, waiting to be reheated, and there was still a half a pot of warm coffee. He made toast and ate breakfast and lingered over more coffee. He stared out the window; it was snowing again. He took a shower and then unpacked his clothes and did some laundry. He felt ready to crawl back into bed now. He took some generic pain medication he found in the upstairs bathroom, having a general feeling of malaise, and then slept again for a while.

He awoke around two hours later. It was still snowing. Not that he intended to try to go anywhere. He was fearful of being outside. Especially of being followed or stalked. He was nervous enough just being alone in the house. But if he was alone when they came, whoever they were, at least it would just be him and not his whole family who suffered the consequences.

He made himself some hot tea, and crawled back in bed with the cup at his bedside. Not that he wasn’t grateful, but why was he still alive? Now there’s a waking thought you don’t have every day. He puzzled over this until it came to him. The Geniers could not risk being the last people to see him alive. Of course. That made sense. To protect their reputation, they had to be able to say he was still alive the last time any of them saw him. They had to make a show of getting him home safe. And now that man Nick, whom Jason figured must have been hired to kill him, knew where he lived. Jason sat upright on the sofa bed. The man was probably studying his family’s routine: how many there were; when they left and returned. Jason felt sick to his stomach. Would they really plan to kill all of us? Mask the intended crime with a supposed home invasion gone wrong. His family would be collateral damage. That was even more horrible. What had he done? He had led them directly to his family. Not that they wouldn’t have found them anyway. But his family was as innocent as he was.

Jason got up and got dressed. He parted the window curtains cautiously, discreetly peering out to see any suspicious cars outside. There weren’t any as far as he could tell.

He did not want to die. But he’d rather they killed just him, right now, than have his family suffer the same fate with him later.

There was no one he could really turn to for help. Whether he told anyone or not, they were going to kill him anyway. And who could he tell? He had no proof. He wondered if he could hide somewhere. Maybe leave the country. But they might come after his family then, to retaliate, or to force him out of hiding. The situation looked more and more hopeless.

His hands were shaking now. He could barely hold the coffee mug. Random thoughts troubled him and his mind raced from one thing to another. The Geniers had known all along. And they had not told him. He had been in danger, every day. And they acted so calm about it. As if it was nothing! Allowing him to be with someone so dangerous…why would they do that to him? It seemed an insane, reckless, crazy and cruel thing to do to someone. Damn them! And him. How could they do this to him? They should not be allowed to get away with this! As if his life meant nothing! Did they all think they could just keep up this charade indefinitely? He had to get up and pace now. He was too restless and too nervous, too angry and upset to sit still.

He made some more tea and sat in the kitchen, drinking out of his favorite “Brewed Awakening” cup and staring out the window. I have to do something. I have to come up with a plan. I can’t just sit here and wait for them to come for me. He should call his bank in Boston and see about transferring large amounts of funds. He would need money to live on. While he found a job…or more likely, if I have to be a fugitive, he thought. If I live. The bank informed him it would take several days to process his request.

Carrie was the first to arrive home, and then his brother Evan. He chatted with both, still trying to appear as normal as he could, for their sakes as well as his own. He fought a rising panic almost constantly.

He talked to his mom and helped her in the kitchen while she started to get dinner ready. There were still leftovers from Thanksgiving. He was looking forward to having those. He tried to keep up with the conversation, hearing only bits and pieces over dinner, feeling too distracted. He glanced up at one point to see Carrie staring at him with a worried expression. He managed a weak, insincere smile. Her expression let him know she wasn’t buying his “I’m okay” look.

“So, Evan, how is your job going?” Jason asked; it was not lost on him that Evan’s job might have disqualified—and spared him—this nightmare he was now part of.

“It’s just okay.” He shrugged. “I’ve been thinking seriously of getting out of this field altogether. Taking classes now for computer science. The whole psychiatric inpatient system is just a huge fail on every level. Too many things are very wrong there. And very depressing.”

At least you have a job, Jason thought, nodding.

“I know it sounds cynical, but I don’t believe I have helped anyone in the past three years I’ve worked there. Nor has the system. Actually, though, the job is at least somewhat interesting at times.” Evan ate some of his mashed potatoes, then took a sip of a Coke. “Like the guy they brought in last night: early twenties; no psychiatric history; comes in with his clothes torn, scratches on his face, legs, arms. He was found running through the woods—actually, he had run out of the woods into a road and almost got hit by a car.

“He had no recollection of how he got there. Rambling somewhat incoherently. Tested negative for any substances, legal or otherwise. When they asked what he was doing out there, in the middle of nowhere, he said he was ‘running through the woods with vampires’! Can you imagine that? Totally psychotic.”

Jason glanced at the faces of each of his family in turn. Clearly from their expressions they were having difficulty imagining such a thing. Jason, on the other hand, found he had no difficulty picturing any of that at all.

“I thought maybe you were going to say it was an alien abduction,” Carrie said with some disappointment. “At least that would be believable.”

“Well, enough crazy talk,” their mom said. “Does anyone want pie? I have pumpkin or apple.”

After the dessert dishes were cleared, Jason had more coffee and lingered in the warm kitchen with his mother for a while. Suddenly, she paused and looked steadily into his eyes for a few moments. She asked him if he was okay. He had been feigning normalcy since he had returned home. He was afraid the façade might be about to crack. He didn’t want that to happen. “I’m okay,” he lied to her, nodding. He felt dangerously close to tears.

Impulsively she hugged him tightly. “You better be okay.” She said it with much more intensity than she might have usually. “I worry about you.” She smoothed down his thick, softly spiked hair, just as she had often done ever since he had started wearing it that way. It had become a gesture of affection between them now. Her way of trying to keep him the way he was; keep him safe and the same as she knew him, unchanged and unharmed by the outside world. He felt a little too emotional suddenly and had to excuse himself to go up to Carrie’s room. Evan had gone out to a movie with friends, and his dad was dozing on the couch with the TV on.

He knocked on Carrie’s door and the music from within lowered perceptibly. “Buzz yourself in,” she called out. Even in his distracted state he didn’t fall for it, and came right in. She laughed. “I usually have someone standing out there for a while, looking for the buzzer. It buys me some time in case I have to get decent.”

“Good one.” He crossed his arms and gave her a stern look. “They are going to yank your goth card for listening to THAT,” he stated, affectionately critical of her musical choice. He could hear a twangy guitar riff from the headphones resting around her neck.

“Don’t you dare tell! I only listen to this in secret.” Carrie, just turned sixteen, going on thirty, was his sibling soul mate—his gothling companion, and he was proud of her. She sat cross legged on the bed now, surrounded by CDs, magazines, clothes, a few gothic collectible dolls and other gothic paraphernalia. She totally looked the part of goth kid with her nearly black hair in a longish shag and blue streaks that framed her face, black smoky eyes and black fingernails. She wore the color black like she totally owned it, and even with a half dozen dark themed bracelets on each wrist she still managed to make her look seem unique.

They totally got each other. They secretly joked that the weirdness gene had skipped Evan, who absolutely did not get either of them. Jason loved having an ally on the dark side. She was sweet, creative, highly intelligent, funny, and given to extremes of emotion. Their dad had nicknamed her “ferret” for her ability to find or figure out anything she was not supposed to. “You would not want someone with her perseverance and tenacity, say, working in the IRS going over your tax return, or working with the FBI to find you,” Dad said. No secret, no surprise could be kept from her for long. Sometimes it even scared him a little, the level of her dedication and perseverance once she set her mind to something.

He walked around her room, resuming his perusal of her things he had begun last night. She had some great stuff. Her music and movie tastes, the books on her shelf, the posters on her walls: more than the same twisted, absurd sense of humor, they shared the same view of the world. The same passion and intensity for the same things.

“So…how…are…things…going…Jason?” she asked, slowly pausing between each word for emphasis. His back was to her as she spoke.

He carefully composed his expression before he turned around to give her what he hoped was a calm look. “Fine.” he announced.

“Oh, really?” she asked him. The ferret was checking him out. He sometimes felt he was no match for her when her mind was set. Relentless. Determined.

Whenever the family sat together in the living room, watching a scary movie, and everyone else jumped at the sudden shocking scene, Carrie was always ready for it. But he knew her vulnerable side too; the sudden sincere flood of tears; her capacity for empathy. In any case he had learned she was a force to be reckoned with. He was a little afraid of her pointing that acumen at him just now.

“How is the car running?” he asked. He had left his car for her to use when he moved to Boston. “Get to drive much?”

“Barely. Dad is too scared to take me now, just because of that one time…” She frowned. “…and Mom’s always too busy. And Evan is just, well—”

“Too normal.” They both said in unison and then laughed. Then, in unison again, “He can’t help it.”

It felt good to laugh with Carrie again.

“While you’re here, you can take me driving!” she said.

Not if we’re followed, Jason thought, his bright expression fading and too quickly becoming serious. Carrie immediately noticed. “You know,” she said looking at him closely, “there has been a dark cloud and a kind of heavy sadness around you ever since you came home.” She was looking at him quizzically.

“It is exhaustion.” He shrugged. “It was a really busy trip,” he offered as explanation. “I’d never been to Europe before. You never want to sleep! There is so much to see and do. I tried to cram in as much as I could—”

“Did you get some time on your own, or did your boss drag you around and make you do things for him the whole time?”

They talked about his trip for over an hour. Going over all he had seen and done—he got his camera so he could show her some of the photos—which reminded him more of just how great a trip it had been. Until… He felt a struggle to keep up his good humor, for her sake. He hugged her tightly and then said he wanted to get to bed early again tonight. He remained awake downstairs, staring at the TV as he lay in bed, but not following any program he watched. Eventually he fell asleep. He slept restlessly, waking up at intervals, feeling anxious but eventually able to get back to sleep again.

The next morning, Wednesday, he repeated the same pattern as the day before. Once everyone had left, he sat in the kitchen staring absently out the window, wrapping his hands around his coffee cup to warm them. No matter how warm the kitchen, a chill came from within himself. His paranoia was ever present, and he peered cautiously out the windows at intervals. A huge icicle, or maybe a chunk of snow, fell somewhere outside, and it startled him more than it should have. In fact, he jumped at any sound: Car engine, snow blower, dog barking somewhere nearby. They were all ominous sounds somehow, meant as warnings to him. He hated feeling this way: the ever present fear someone was coming to kill him. He was too restless and distracted to read or watch TV. Too nervous and anxious to sit still for long. He did not know what to do with himself.

If they are coming, why don’t they just do it and end this torture! he thought. He felt a sudden desperate longing for everything to be back the way it was before.

How did I not notice? He berated himself. But he did notice. So many little things added up. A kitchen that was never used; no meal ever witnessed; jumping out of a still moving vehicle into a dark woods. Really, Jason—seriously? But all that still did not add up to this, he defended himself. Not this truth he was expected to believe.

It really wasn’t until Europe. That old man in Venice. He had to have been in his eighties. He had approached them, convinced he knew Augere. Convinced Augere was someone he had known a very long time ago, apparently.

And what about the French bartender? What about that story? And then, in London, the strange random responses from the Oracle… Jason shook his head. So much circumstantial evidence suggested it could be true. And yet he could not begin to accept such a thing as real. He had resisted it.

But then there was the portal thing. If I am going to have to die for knowing about all of this, then I should at least believe and accept that it is all true.

He allowed himself to relive that night outside of Highgate Cemetery. It wasn’t difficult to recall all the horrifying details. Get behind me. The way Augere had stood up to that thing. It wasn’t just the absence of fear. It was like he was confidently in control. Like he had seen this and done this before. Amazing. He had said as much afterward, and that he had the situation under control. I thought he was going insane from terror, but absolutely not. Get behind me…Like he knew: he had this. Now in retrospect, Jason was completely in awe of him. If he really was some kind of supernatural being, it seemed he was damn good at it.

You will never have to see him again.

Yeah…well. That’s good, I guess, Jason thought with a deep sigh. But suddenly he just wanted to go back to bed. And not just to rest, but to fall into a deep sleep, and then wake up to a different reality.

He lay on his bed, lacking motivation to do anything else.

Maybe it’s not so much that they want to kill me, just that they have to do it. To protect their big secret.

“Nothing personal, Jason. But you have just got to go. We really didn’t mean for this to happen but yeah, well that’s a shame. Sorry, pal.” They were innocent in a sense too. They couldn’t have known something like this was going to happen. Right?

He wished he could speak to Genier again. He really did like him. He was kind and helpful. That was the real hell of it. He had liked these people. He found himself thinking about Augere. How he had never made Jason feel like just an employee. He had often glimpsed Augere’s hotel quarters in passing: Jason never had lesser accommodation. And Augere would not even let him pay for his own drink or meal, if he was around, even if he had none himself. Augere had often been kind and generous to him.

He daydreamed, recalling some of their conversations. Things had just started to get more comfortable between them…why did this have to happen?

He remembered, feeling a little embarrassed all over again, how Augere had tended to him, actually remained at his side for a time, when he had been ill after Savannah. Not at all like someone who would want to harm him. Not the behavior one would expect from a…he still couldn’t bring himself to say it.

But, of course, I never saw him that way. Even if he did say he would have to kill me. Even if he did hold me at the hotel against my will. Inflicting pain. Jason rolled up the sleeve of the long sleeved shirt he was wearing, for a look. A wide ugly dark purplish bruise ringed his upper arm. It was still painful.

If things had happened differently…if I had figured it out—about Augere, but had just said nothing…! Or maybe if we had not gone to Highgate at all…maybe things could be different right now.

They could be in that sumptuous library at this moment. Of course, then I would be seeing him through very different eyes.

Suddenly a whole spectrum of wonder opened up for Jason. If Augere was truly…vampire. Damn. It would be the most amazing and fantastic, the most unique supernatural experience he, or anyone, might ever have. All this time he had wanted the ultimate paranormal or supernatural experience. And all this time—a rush of excitement took over now—he had been right there! The wonder of him…how old was he really? Living history, for certain…! To have such access to someone like him. Imagine the things he has seen and done. And to think, he found me! That amazing synchronicity that so often seemed to be a part of his life: a wonderful trip to New Orleans; then a chance encounter. How many people would love to be in that situation? Of course, I could never tell anyone, not ever. All that he could share…but it would always be for just a party of one. For my eyes and ears only, exclusively. No matter how wonderful, amazing, incredible…or how bad and terrifying. I could never tell another soul. It was a sobering thought. Still, it was the experience of a life time, to just be around him…Jason came out of his pleasant reverie slowly as he realized all of it had already slipped away…all of it lost. He was looking at mental images of the gone world. A world he had no access to anymore.

Well, what if Jason was back there right now with him? Knowing what he knew? What was their intention as far as he was concerned? Was he being groomed as some modern day Renfield? What was his intended role, really? To lure people to Augere? Or to find hiding places for the bodies? It was odd, wasn’t it, that there hadn’t been hundreds of unexplained corpses all around the Boston area… Drained of blood…or maybe there had been, and he just hadn’t been paying enough attention. No. He couldn’t go back to that life…didn’t Renfield end up insane? Or, no…wait…I think the master killed him. Yeah. I’m pretty sure that was it. Too bad I’m going to have to die for this anyway though. His thoughts were back to a jumbled confusion, drifting from one bleak and troubling thing to another.

He looked around him to break the pattern of unwanted thoughts, and he sighed heavily. He grew up in this kitchen. When he’d wake up from a bad dream, his mom and he would sit there and have hot chocolate and she would talk to him and calm his fears, make him feel safe; make everything all right again. Now I’m here as a grown man, having even worse fears and thoughts, worse than anything I could have imagined as a child, and nothing feels like it is ever going to be safe or all right again. He felt totally alone and completely isolated suddenly. No one could help him now.

He was startled suddenly to hear the front door open. The assassin! He is here, in the house! He began to tremble. He stood, eyes wide, near the kitchen entrance, waiting.

Carrie, home from school early, appeared startled to find Jason in a frozen pose, eyes wild, staring at her from the kitchen doorway.

“Jason! Cripes!” They stared at each other for several moments. Jason’s heart was beating wildly. Carrie was taking in his unkempt appearance. “I kind of just let it go when you were working on perfecting your world-weary traveler-angst look,” she said to him. “But this—disheveled, unshaven, wild eyed, spooky mess—not sure just where you’re going with this.”

He mustered his one resource admirably. “I’m on vacation.” His heartbeat was slowly returning to normal.

“Not in a third world country. We now have hot and cold running water here in Minnesota. And a mall.”

He sniffed. Took a sip from the coffee mug he was still clutching. “What are you doing home at”—he checked the time on the wall clock behind him—“noon? Skipping?”

“If you must know, I arranged my whole semester to have a half day off, today, just so I could keep an eye on my older brother. And his maximum weirdness.”

He managed a smirk. He was ecstatic to see her and not the killer he was expecting.

She threw her coat over the back of a chair and then dumped a pile of mail onto the table. She poured herself a cup of coffee and then sat down to sort through the pile.

“You’ve got mail.” She imitated the AOL voice as she handed Jason a 9x12 tan envelope. As he took it, he noticed it was postmarked New Orleans. The return address was a PO box.

He sat down in the chair opposite hers and opened it. They were his formal resignation papers. Would he please sign these and fax them to the number indicated on the attached note. Pages detailed his retirement info, the last day of his medical coverage; info about his final paycheck. Letters of reference, in glowing words, described in inflated terms his various duties; how competent and how much of an asset he had been to the firm. Highly recommended for any qualified position.

James and Allen Genier had signed all the letters of reference; Augere had signed one, though all three names were printed in the heading. Both Geniers had signed the actual acceptance of resignation. The space under the printed name Laurent Augere had been left blank. Why had he not signed it? Oh, right. Because he would be in Boston. They would have to be sent to him there. But why hadn’t they done so first? And if he was in Boston, how had he signed just the one page—but not the rest? And it wasn’t a copy or a fax. Jason could see it was signed in ballpoint ink…and why was this all done so quickly? What was the rush?

“Good news?” Carrie inquired over the top of her Gothic Beauty magazine. He made no reply. “Jason?”

“Just…some work papers,” he replied quietly. He was preoccupied with minute details, overlooking, or missing, some larger significance here perhaps.

She put her magazine down. “Something has you under the bus…and I intend to find out what that is,” she stated emphatically. “I don’t like seeing you like this.”

He shook his head absently, still puzzling over the papers.

“Look, I have to change and get ready to go to my job at the mall,” she said. “Are you going to be okay? Because you don’t look okay to me.”

He nodded, not too convincingly. There was a finality to these pages. The last thing to come undone. And were these papers really even necessary, if he was going to die anyway? Oh, yeah… because then these papers would mean less suspicion cast on the Geniers.

“Hey,” he said, his voice sounding strained, “leave me that magazine to read, okay?”

She got up and came behind him, putting her arms around his shoulders, ostensibly trying to get a glimpse at the papers he was holding, which he had put back in the envelope before she could see.

“Okay. Don’t be messing with my stuff while I’m gone though. I will know if you do.” She kissed the top of his head and then headed upstairs to change.

In a moment, everything can change. How often had things seemed to come at him, with no time, not a moment to think, or consider or choose. It just was. And then he was forced to deal with the consequences of a hasty decision or action.

Was this the reason for the delay in killing him? Had they, perversely, needed his signature first? To get them off the hook?

Once Carrie left, he sat staring out the window again, feeling weary and deeply depressed. He would have to start all over; a new job search. If he was still alive.

His thoughts returned to the forms he had just received. The note was dated on Monday and they were mailed late that day, priority, expedited. Today was just Wednesday and he had them already. He sighed. They were in such a hurry to be rid of him.

Well, he reminded himself, you told them you wanted to resign. Maybe not in so many words but you made it clear enough. When asked, you did say you wanted out. Well, yes, but I would have said anything just to get away from them then; just to be safe. Anything, not to be killed.

He remembered now. Allen had said to him, no less than three times at least: do you want to take some time off; days, or weeks? Visit your family; think things over. He felt a sudden pang of regret now. Of course he was glad to see his family again. Glad to be out of that situation. He hadn’t thought beyond that moment. He hadn’t really thought about the permanence of it, not then.

He hadn’t been able to see past his fear; past the sudden realization of his imminent demise. He had had other, more pressing concerns on his mind, at the time.

Jason gazed out the window at the now heavily falling snow. But his thoughts were elsewhere, far away.

If only you had been able to talk to him. He would have answered your questions. Jason heard those words again in his mind, the words Allen had spoken, and he sighed. But he just couldn’t. Couldn’t they see that? He had been too terrified. He took a big sip of his tepid coffee.

Talk to me.

The words came to him suddenly, more clearly than when he had first heard them at the time. Painfully sharp now. He hadn’t heard it then, but he heard it with startling clarity now, in his recollection. The almost pleading tone of voice.

Talk to me.

He got up suddenly and put his now empty coffee cup in the sink. He went downstairs and got dressed, not bothering to shower or shave. He put on his coat and borrowed his dad’s scarf and gloves from the hall tree by the door. He got the car keys for his old car off the hook where they were kept and went to the garage. It was time to make himself a more available target. If they were coming to get him, let them do it now. They had the power to put him out of his misery.

He decided to drive Carrie to her job at the mall. He hung out there for a while; sat and watched as people passed by. The only person who paid any attention to him was an elderly woman, a mall walker who eyed his tousled hair and ear piercing with barely concealed disdain. He finally headed back home, having reached a decision based just on speculation: They would come for him in their own time, unless he spilled the secret first. It would happen on a day and at a time of their choosing; he would never know, never see it coming. But it would probably be soon.

In the meantime, he had to live his life. How long could he stay at his family’s house before they became suspicious? What would he say to them? It would be better if he found a job first; then he could tell them it just hadn’t worked out at the other; and now he’d found something else. That would make him seem less pathetic.

He felt suspended from the world. An image came to mind as he was driving home. A recurring image: a figure on a tarot card. When he got home he went to his sister’s computer to look it up. He needed a distraction just now. Anything to take his mind off of his present circumstances, if that was even possible.

The same image had been popping up in his consciousness, and strangely even in the environment, in abstract ways. A fleeting image of Houdini, chained and suspended, on a magazine cover. A TV commercial which featured a Cirque du Soleil acrobat upside down hanging onto a slender tether. He was always mindful of signs and symbols when they called his attention. There always seemed to be a reason for them: something he needed to pay attention to.

There it was: the Hanged Man. He skimmed over several different websites and read several different interpretations. A man suspended from the living world; hanging there of his own free will; a card of ultimate surrender; someone suspended in time. Suspended between one world and another. A period of indecision; needing to evaluate behavior and patterns; taking time to reflect on a situation before action; holding off on any further activities for a short period, which may create a different and better outcome. The card was about waiting; and about emotional release. An acceptance and a surrendering to present circumstance. The reversed position: looking at yourself from a different perspective. It represents a reversal of your usual way of life. One whose perspective of the world has completely changed. Knowing that soon the hanged man must right himself and then things will be very different than they were before. It is looking at areas in which you give up too much to others at the expense of your own wellbeing. Your own goals and dreams could be put on hold because of external circumstances and reality. Expect major changes to occur. Or, accept the circumstances and find peace within yourself. Was this the message and the meaning he was meant to take? It all seemed to describe him right now. This is where I’m at. Suspended between past and future; unsure of how I feel about anything. And not knowing what to do. The embodiment of indecision. Needing to sort things out. And to come to a decision after careful consideration. All of the descriptions fit him exactly now.

But he felt a sudden emptiness, like someone who has lost everything meaningful in his life. A profound hopelessness and despair engulfed him.

That’s not true, he reprimanded himself. I have my health; my family. There are many things I enjoy in my life; I am passionate about many things and these are all meaningful to me. There are many places in the world I want to travel to; many experiences I haven’t had yet. I can have a really great life. Just not…that life again. But he still felt a deep sense of loss and regret for that lost existence. It wasn’t his fault this happened. Yes, he had said he wanted out. But it was because he was afraid of the situation…that they had placed him into! That he had unknowingly gotten into. The terrible secret he wasn’t supposed to know…Augere; all of it. Couldn’t they see that?

He sighed heavily again and then retrieved the Sunday job listings from the recycle bin. He needed to find a job; that had to come first. God, that whole process. How much he dreaded it. Searching for a job has to be one of the more stressful things anyone could face. He would have to update his resume, again. Reason for leaving last job…? Yeah, he would have to work on that.

He thought about what he had to look forward to. Horrible job interviews. Suits and ties. Trying to sell himself. Maybe becoming more and more desperate. Finally just settling for something. A stuffy little cubicle. Boring staff meetings. Annoying co-workers. Time clocks, and deadlines, and mandatory this and that. Maybe dreaded TPS reports…missing staplers… A short lunch break, and then back onto the wheel and make it spin until they finally let you leave and then you go home so you can come back and do it all again tomorrow…he almost wished his assassin would come today. It would be preferable to facing all that.

And where was he going to live? He liked living in Boston. But it would be very expensive for him to do so now; he would have to have a very good paying job. And a roommate. And if he didn’t return to Boston, would he ever see Zavi again? Another deep pang of regret. He really liked her. Their relationship had been going so well. The prospect of maybe not ever seeing her again brought fresh anguish and sank him even lower.

But could he even live in Boston again, knowing Augere would be there? That could weigh too heavily on his mind. He would see him on every corner, whether it was him or not. It would be maddening. If he was still alive, that is.

A sudden intense anger took hold of him. Damn it! None of this was his fault! He should not have to be going through all of this. He really liked Augere. We should be in that house right now, instead of me being here and having all these negative thoughts weighing me down. There was no reason he shouldn’t be there.

Talk to me.

What had he needed to hear from me? Jason thought with sudden remorse. What was I supposed to think when he grabbed my arm and would not let me leave…And then, he had a sudden realization. A thought occurred to him for the first time. Was that why Augere held him there? So he wouldn’t say or do anything crazy, in the state of mind he was in? He was trying to protect his secret, certainly; but maybe trying to protect Jason from doing something he would regret? He felt ill suddenly. Yes. That could have been the reason. Not to threaten me.

Jason relived over and over those moments at the hotel in London that evening. Talk to me. What had Augere thought when Jason turned his face away from him? And would not speak to him or acknowledge him. Would not, could not even look into his eyes. What was he supposed to think? How was he supposed to interpret that? Jason sat and soberly reflected on all that had taken place.

This is just crazy! Jason thought suddenly. I should just call Augere; talk to him. He would listen to me. I’ll just explain what was going on in my mind at the time; I think he’ll understand, under the circumstances. I’ll just tell him why I was so afraid. Reassure him I would never tell; that I have no intentions of ever doing so. They don’t need to worry about protecting the secret—I’ll protect it too.

Suddenly, it all just seemed so clear. Just call him. Talk to him, and explain everything. That was the right thing to do.

Jason got his work cell phone and pressed the pre-set number for Augere. It rang. More than the customary number of times. He should have taken a moment to prepare what he was going to say to him; he didn’t want to be on the phone with him, stammering and—

“The number you have reached has been disconnected and is no longer in service.”

Jason automatically pressed the number again, thinking he had just hit the wrong key. And got the same result.

He looked at his phone. Then he manually dialed the number. Disconnected. It couldn’t be. Was it a mistake? It had only been a few days…it was the only number he had to reach Augere directly. A chill came over him, as if the door had suddenly opened letting an icy blast of winter into the room.

Okay. Okay. Well, I’ll just call Mr. Genier then. He will be able to get me in touch with Augere.

“May I ask who is calling, please?” a female voice responded. This had never happened before. He had always gotten through directly to Mr. Genier. She asked if Jason could hold. She was back on the line a few moments later.

“Mr. Genier is expected to be tied up in meetings for the rest of the day. Would you like to leave a message?”

Jason kept his voice calm, but he was stunned. “Yes. Please. Would you say Jason Sterling called. I need to speak to Mr. Augere and I have been unable to reach him. It is rather important.” She took the message.

He was quieter than usual at dinner that evening, but he was grateful for the comfort of having his family around him. Carrie announced she didn’t want dessert and coffee, because she and Jason were going out driving. It was news to Jason, but he decided to passively go along with it.

They had to bundle up against the cold, and there was more snow than he would have liked for an impromptu driving lesson. Then again, Carrie would be facing this kind of weather often. Better for her to get used to driving in it.

He had to force himself to focus on the task, for the safety of both of them. Actually, she did quite well. He was proud of her. It felt good to be doing something normal and helpful for someone he really cared about. It helped take his mind off of his worries temporarily. They dropped his SD cards off at a photo place so he could have CDs made of his vacation photos, though he was less enthusiastic about those right now than he would let on to Carrie. There was quite a few, so they decided to pick them up the next day. They went to Dunkin Donuts for coffee. Carrie wanted to stay out driving, but Jason said they would have the whole weekend to do so, and she relented. She was already starting to probe him with questions, and he didn’t have the energy to deal with that right now.

When they got back home, they both started watching a recent popular film Evan had rented for all of them. For a while Jason pretended to be interested in the story: a high school girl learns her new crush is a werewolf…He finally begged off and went to bed. He lay awake for a long time, thinking. Tomorrow was Friday. He would try Genier again. He should be able to get to talk to him. If he couldn’t reach him for some reason, he might even have to wait until Monday. He did not want to have to wait that long.

“I’m sorry. Mr. Genier is not available right now. May I take a message?” It was 9:00 a.m.; Genier was usually available at that time. Or anytime Jason called, for any reason.

“Can you tell me when he might be available?”

“I really couldn’t say, Mr. Sterling.”

“Okay. I will try him again later.”

He had nothing else to do to fill up his morning. He knew he should be looking for a job. He went online to update his resume, grateful he had saved a copy of it on his dad’s computer when he had been job hunting before. He posted his resume on several of the main job sites.

Around noon he tried Genier again.

“Just a moment please, I’ll check to see if he is in.”

Jason’s heart sank. He knew the answer already.

“Hello, Jason. How are you? What can I do for you?”

Jason was never so glad to hear someone’s voice in his life. The tone was reserved, businesslike, but cordial. And to him it was a lifeline thrown into rough water.

“Mr. Genier.” He sighed. “It is good to hear your voice. I really need to talk to Mr. Augere, and I cannot reach him. Could you please tell me—”

“If it is about clearing your personal items from the house, I do have some news on that. We have been getting estimates from bonded companies in the Boston area. We can set up a day and time—have you decided where you want the items to go? Local storage, or shipped to you?”

“NO! I mean, I am planning to take care of all that. I really do need to talk to Mr. Augere though. It is very important. If you can just tell me how to reach him…”

There was a long silent pause.

“He will insist I take care of it, whatever it is.” Curt. Detached.

“It’s not anything you can take care of; please can you just ask him to call me? If you can’t tell me how to reach him myself. The next time you speak to him—”

“I don’t know when that might be. He hasn’t been returning my calls.”

“But—I thought you spoke to him nearly every day. I don’t understand—is it because of me? That he isn’t calling you?”

“I don’t believe so. He accepts that things happen. He just goes on.” There was a brief pause. “I haven’t figured out a way to make him keep his phone turned on, much less make him call me,” Genier said, his tone a little warmer and friendlier. There was even a hint of humor in his voice. “If I do speak to him, I will give him your message.”

“Okay, thank you.” Jason sighed. It was the best he could hope for, it seemed. At least, he had gotten to talk to Genier again. At least Augere would get his message.

He should be talking to him soon.

It was after 6:30 and Carrie hadn’t gotten home from her job yet; Evan was out with his friends. His parents had a weekly card game at their friend’s house, but were reluctant to go and leave Jason alone.

“Mom—Dad, please, you don’t have to change your plans for me. There is no reason you have to stay home to entertain me. Carrie will be home soon; I’ll take her out driving. Please—just go, okay?”

He pretended he had already eaten while Carrie had dinner, and then they went out for her driving lesson.

He was distracted and having a hard time focusing on the present moment. But he still kept a watchful eye on Carrie. And she did on him, as well.

“Are we stopping for coffee after we pick up your photo CDs?” she asked. He’d almost forgotten about those. He was gazing at his silent phone.

“I’ll tell you what—how about if I stare at your phone for a while for you?” she offered in a sarcastic tone. “That way you can drive us home.”

He frowned at her. He didn’t realize he had been so obvious, waiting any moment to get a call from Augere. And if he didn’t get a call? He wasn’t sure what to do then.

“Never mind about me. You just keep driving,” he said to her. “Can we get donut holes this time?”

A short while after they returned home, both their parents and Evan returned. They all decided to look at the photo CDs together.

It was all captured; the wonderful trip he had enjoyed thanks to Augere. Places he’d almost forgotten about already were now saved for posterity. He had taken photos of the absinthe bar in Paris—now he had the name of the place—and memories came rushing back to him after seeing all of those images.

This doesn’t have to be the end of it, Jason thought. I could certainly go to all those places again. It would still be just as wonderful, maybe more, because I would be reliving it all again.

“Not one photo of this mysterious boss of yours?” Carrie asked him. The rest of the family chimed in, with the same thought. They were hoping to see what he looked like. They were absolutely right, he realized with dismay. He had not a single photo of Augere. The few times he had, discreetly, tried to frame a picture with Augere in the background, Augere had always seemed to move away at the last moment. There was one photo—taken in the Catacombs— when he was sure he had caught a quick photo of Augere. He found the photo now and was dismayed to see it was just a photo of Augere’s hand. He stared at it now, without calling attention to it. The photo had a faint haziness about it, just his hand and the area around it, not the rest of the image. As if there had been a camera malfunction or interference. Maybe he could not be photographed? No, that was absurd. Augere had a passport; had a driver’s license. Of course he was able to be photographed. Jason wished he did have at least one photo of him. He felt a moment of deep regret now, that he had not a single image. There would be not one visual thing except his memory to help him remember what Augere looked like.

Memory would fade. In time it would almost be like he never existed.

You will never have to see him again.

But of course he would, Jason thought suddenly. He still had to go to Boston to get all of his stuff. He would have to see Augere then. How else? He felt reassured of it now—and maybe he could get a photo then, he could even him ask him maybe, or be discreet about it—when the thought that Augere might choose not to be present upset him suddenly. Or, what if, as Genier had suggested, a company simply packed up his things and shipped them somewhere? He would have no excuse to see Augere then. That thought filled him with dread. He needed to speak to Augere again now. Before that could happen.

He needed to see him. Even if it was for one last time.

He went to bed a little after 11:00; everyone else in the family stayed up late since it was Friday night. Everyone else, Jason thought, isn’t mentally, physically and emotionally exhausted from staring at the emptiness of what their life might become in the coming months.

He kept his phone with him all the time; checking it obsessively, and discreetly now, hoping for a call from Augere. Why would Augere not call him? He trusted Genier would give him the message. Augere would have no reason not to call. Maybe he was even hoping Jason might call him. But it concerned him Augere was not even returning Genier’s calls. It certainly made Jason a lesser priority.

There continued to be no call.

He took Carrie out driving on Saturday afternoon. She had been driving for about an hour and they were stopped at a stoplight.

“I’m taking you to one of my favorite places,” she announced. Jason nodded, as he fiddled with the radio, trying to get a decent alternative music station.

She pulled into a parking spot near an indie book shop called Books Rock. He followed her inside and she led him to a cozy table near several racks of books;. All of the books in that area he soon noticed were of the paranormal genre. He loved the look and ambience of the place. A kind of shabby chic, combination Victorian tea room, coffee house, bistro kind of place. A place with many comfortable chairs and seating areas; tables with small lamps. The kind of place that invited one to browse and linger a while; more like a cozy living room at someone’s house than a bookstore. A waitress came to their table and Carrie said she would treat Jason. She ordered the Tea for Two. As soon as the server left she began.

“Okay, Jason. Let’s have it.”

He gave her a blank look, but he knew what she was after. “What?” he asked innocently.

“You have been moping; preoccupied, worried. Staring at your phone like you’re waiting for the Governor to call off the execution. What is going on with you? I can probably help.” Her tone was confident.

For one crazy moment he imagined blurting out the whole living with a vampire/portal creatures/hired killer story, just to see her reaction, just to be able to say “So, Carrie, what are your thoughts about what I should do now?” but he immediately thought better of it. Of course, he could never tell anyone. But just now he was feeling very emotionally vulnerable, a state quite uncharacteristic of him, until just lately, and he did not really trust himself. “Carrie…” He sighed.

“Please, just don’t tell me it’s nothing. I will have the truth. Or at least, the closest version of it.”

He just shook his head.

“I’m very surprised, and not a little upset, that you feel you can’t confide in me.” She looked both miffed and hurt.

He glanced around the room. There had to be a way out of this. He thought he found one. He spotted something of interest a few tables away.

“Have you ever had a tarot card reading?” he asked her suddenly.

She shook her head.

He nodded at a woman sitting at a table just beyond. She had a tarot card deck with her and a small sign under the rose colored lamp on her table read: Tarot Card readings/$10.

“Do you want one?” he asked her. But before she could answer he suddenly realized this could be the sign he had been looking for. The Hanged Man image that kept popping up in his mind and elsewhere had been a prompt; now the Tarot Card woman being present was a clue he should be focused on; he suddenly remembered: Redlyn, and the Tarot Card reading in Salem. A look of amazement came over his face. He suddenly recalled she had predicted he would travel, before he knew it himself. And she had said something else that seemed very significant just now.

Carrie caught the look of wonder and surprise on his face. Then it seemed to him she might have been thinking over his suggestion, when their order arrived: a silver teapot and two cups; a three tiered silver server with little cakes and miniature pastries. The smallest, most perfectly tiny éclairs Jason had ever seen, tiny circles of cheesecake; one bite fruit tarts, miniature frosted cakes and bites of brownies; several varieties of tiny sandwiches. There were mini croissants, jam and real clotted cream—a new favorite, since he had been able to try some in London. It was a very charming presentation, almost too beautifully done to eat.

“I had a reading done in Salem, recently,” Jason explained, selecting a sliver of checkerboard cake. “I’m just now remembering some of the stuff this woman said to me. It was pretty amazing, since some of the stuff she predicted has already happened since then.”

“Really? Maybe I should have a reading…” Carrie went on to talk about Salem; how lucky he was to live in Boston and be so close to cool places like Salem and all the stuff there was to see and do. She went on about how much she really wanted to go there too and hinted about him inviting her to visit him at his place for a weekend. He had to get her off the subject. It was too depressing and she could be close to figuring out his true circumstances.

As he poured himself some Earl Grey, Jason concentrated on remembering what Redlyn had said. He nodded at Carrie’s comments, only half listening, already bothered she would never get to see his great place in Boston now. And a pang of sorrow as he realized: neither would he, not ever again.

Distant shores. He remembered that part. She was certainly right about that. And…“everything, or something coming apart…and put together again.” The Hanged Man image and now by chance the sight of a woman with tarot cards made him feel this was all important somehow and that this was something he was meant to take note of and put together. He asked their server for some paper and he took a pen out of his pocket. He began to write down what he remembered as Carrie looked on, munching a petit sandwich.

Everything coming apart. Yes, that had certainly happened. Did she say it did go back together, or just that it might? He couldn’t recall the exact words now. He had recorded all of the session, but that recording was back in Boston now.

“…right, Jason?” Carrie was saying.

“Hmm?” Jason was embarrassed he hadn’t caught her comment.

“Just as I thought. You weren’t even listening.” She sounded upset.

“Sorry; I was. Just not every word. I was just distracted for a moment. The woman over there reminded me, and I was trying to remember what my tarot reading had revealed. It seems really important right now.”

“Oh? Does it have to do with what has been bothering you?”

He stared at her. “Okay. Look. I am expecting an important phone call; it might come sometime this weekend. Or, maybe Monday. If it doesn’t come by Monday evening, I will seek your advice. Is that going to be okay?” He was only half bluffing. If he didn’t hear back from Augere soon, he would need advice from somewhere. It might as well be from Carrie. Even though she couldn’t know any of the details. That would be a difficult trick.

“Just so long as you know, I am not letting you off the hook. You need to tell me. I can’t have you going on like this.”

Jason nodded. They had a deal. They finished their tea and all of the delightful treats. The tarot woman had left. They decided to browse the books for a while, and Jason bought a book for Carrie. Then they headed home. Sleep would not come easy, and Jason had to take a combination pain and sleep aid from the upstairs bathroom; even then, he had difficulty falling asleep.

On Sunday everyone slept in and then their mom fixed them all a big breakfast. It was like old times, with all of them being home together and enjoying the same routines he remembered when growing up.

He took Carrie for another driving lesson, and then they went to see a movie at the Cineplex. He realized he consistently enjoyed her company more than almost anyone else he could think of. The movie was an absurd comedy, and a welcome relief to him after all the heavy emotions of the past week. He wasn’t at all tired at the end of the evening, but he had to say goodnight because everyone but him had someplace they had to be in the morning.

I should set my alarm clock anyway, Jason thought. Get up a little earlier for a change. Yeah, a good plan. That way he could squeeze in a few extra hours of worry. And hopefully that wouldn’t interfere with the full day of obsessive ruminating he already had planned. Somehow, despite everything, my absurd sense of humor is still mostly intact.

He hastily ate a light breakfast while he waited until a decent hour to call Genier.

To his extreme relief and surprise as soon as the secretary had said “just a moment” he was put through to Mr. Genier. All was not lost.

“I have not heard from him yet. I did give him your message.”

“You spoke to him?” This was great news to Jason.

“No. I left the message on his answering machine.”

“I would not keep asking unless it was really very important that I speak with him personally.”

“I will relay that message again…but you have to understand…you have to accept that it is very unlikely that you will ever hear from him again.” There was a pause. “Once things have ended, he will not make contact with you.”

“I see,” Jason said. But he did not. Not really. Because that was just unthinkable. “But you will still tell him for me? Again? Please.”

“I will tell him. Take care, Jason.” Genier hung up.

Jason felt numb. An encompassing isolation and deep emptiness took over as soon as Genier hung up the phone. He had wanted to keep him on the line for as long as he could, if nothing else just to hear his voice. He needed to hear him say he would keep trying until Augere finally called him. Jason just could not accept he would never see or speak to Augere ever again. It was unbearable. His need to talk to Augere had taken on an importance even he was unable to fathom. He was alone; there were no other distractions right now. He could gather his thoughts and examine his emotions freely. He was trying to make sense of something that refused to make sense. I’m looking at pieces of an imaginary puzzle and trying to put it together. I don’t know what I’m really looking at so I don’t know which piece goes where. I don’t know how to go about this.

Daily thoughts of some stranger coming to kill him were pushed aside as unimportant suddenly.

Something about everything going back together…But how? What do I have to do? What am I not seeing?

He got up and paced. Something…something was not right. It was right in front of him, he was sure of it, but what was it?

He took the resignation papers out of their envelope. He hadn’t even thought about sending them back yet. He looked them over again. He was expected to sign and return these—

As he looked at all the signatures again, he stared as one detail now stood out. Ballpoint pen. The one signature of Augere’s was written in ballpoint ink.

No way. He would not have done that. Augere simply would not have been able to do so.

It was one of his quirks. There had been times, when Jason was with him, that Augere would buy something with a credit card. When it came time to sign his name, if he had forgotten his fountain pen, there was trouble. He would refuse to sign. That could get embarrassing and it was definitely inconvenient. Jason had taken to bringing extra cash, and carrying a spare fountain pen, an inexpensive one he had bought himself, along with him whenever they were out together. Just in case.

Jason considered several possible scenarios. IF Augere had signed it, it was an empty gesture. It had meant nothing to him. In his mind, it would be as if he had never signed it at all. Or, had he signed under duress? Augere? No, hardly. Or was it a forgery? Had someone simply signed his name, attempting to duplicate his signature? As strange as that seemed, it was the one realistic possibility.

Jason did not know the meaning of the ballpoint signature; it was just a small, trivial but interesting detail. But so often when his attention was drawn to a small detail it usually turned out to have a much greater significance.

Maybe Augere was ambivalent about this. About signing anything that had this finality. Maybe he really did not want this either. Jason hoped that might be it.

But the more likely scenario: Someone had forged Augere’s signature on the letter of reference. He would never see it; it came directly to me for my own use, so it didn’t matter. But the other pages would require his actual signature.

That had to be it. The others would be signed, probably, at his convenience with his preferred writing instrument. Since he was in Boston, those would have to wait.

There was something else. Something was trying to work its way into his conscious mind now. An emotion that seemed to threaten to engulf him. It scared him a little, whatever it was. He tried to resist it. It felt to him like he was trying to hold back a tsunami. There was a power and intensity to it, a momentum already, and he didn’t even know what it was…

Talk to me.

Jason had turned his head. He had refused to look at Augere. Had refused speak to him. He had ignored the pleading tone in Augere’s voice. Because…of course…Jason was afraid of him. Of the situation…even more so…because of the way Augere grabbed him…

I did not want it to be true! It changed everything! Jason thought with sudden anguish. I didn’t want it to be true for his sake. He didn’t deserve to have to live an existence like that. And I didn’t want it to be true…for my sake as well. But what must he have thought then when I wouldn’t look at him or talk to him?…Jason began to consider all of those possibilities.

That I was specifically turning away from him—in disgust? Or…with…revulsion?…that I totally rejected him, on a personal level, because of what he is? That I was…horrified at just the thought of him, having learned what he truly was, now…that I was unwilling, that I was loathe to even be in his presence?…But it was never that! No! Never!

The surprise of tears fell suddenly. He was overwrought at the imagined miscommunication he had caused. I was afraid of him, yes. But I wasn’t recoiling from him—I wasn’t condemning or judging him! Certainly not for what he is. Jason sobbed openly, glad no one else was around to witness the emotional mess he was dissolving into. Not that an audience would have changed anything. The realization of the pain he might have caused Augere by his actions now caused him a tide of grief that he was not able to deny or hold back. He put his head into his hands.

When he was able to finally compose himself, he knew now why it was so important for him to speak to Augere personally. Why it was more important than anything else now, including his own personal safety.

I have got to tell him myself I never rejected him because of what he is. He has to know that, and he has to hear it from me. Even if it was the last thing he ever did. He could not go on with his life having Augere believe something that was so completely not true. Even if he didn’t care. Even if it didn’t matter to him what Jason thought. If he left Augere with that very wrong impression, then he had to set this right. He never turned away from Augere just because of what he was. He deserves better than that from me. He has got to know that. Even if all it does is just ease my own conscience.

That’s it, he thought. I’m going to Boston. Having made a decision gave him a clear purpose. He went downstairs and began to sort through his things and to start packing. He paused briefly to look into flight info on his sister’s laptop. He went to get his credit card so he could be ready to book a flight.

He checked the small folio where he kept his cash and credit cards. He had put these in a small zippered compartment inside his suitcase along with his house keys. Everything was there still, all except the keys. He did a quick search through the luggage, and then a more thorough one. He could not find the keys to the house in Boston. They were gone. He would have had no reason to take them out of the zippered compartment, not at any time during the entire trip to Europe. Yet they were nowhere to be found. He remembered now: he had put some extra euros in that compartment the night before going to Highgate. He was sure the keys had been there then. The euros were still there now.

He checked his jacket pockets. His passport was there. No keys though. They wouldn’t have been in his jacket in any case.

He thought back to that night in London. Some of his things had already been packed; a few things had still been scattered around. In his haste, he had simply thrown things into the suitcase…He knew Allen had put some of his things into his luggage also…it did not make sense that Allen would have removed the keys. Why would he? Yet, somehow, in the chaos and confusion of that night those keys had been misplaced. Unless they had been purposely taken.

He called the hotel in London. They had not had any keys turned in, not in the past several months. They assured Jason that all found items were logged in, with the dates found and their location. Jason gave them a description of the keys. They promised to notify him if they were found.

And then another thought occurred to him: what if Augere had already changed the locks on the doors? Even if he went to Boston, Augere did not have to let him in. He might not even answer the door. I can’t just stand around outside, in winter weather, hoping I will run into him. Meanwhile, Genier was probably already making plans to have his stuff moved out of the house, whether he provided instruction of where the items were to go or not. If he continued to stall he would have no choice in the matter. His chances of ever seeing Augere again were slipping further and further away. Time could be running out.

He tried calling Genier again, to see if he could delay the moving of his personal things. Try to stall for more time, until he could think of something else. If his things remained at the house a while longer, he might still have a chance to speak to Augere.

“I’m sorry. Mr. Genier is gone for the day. Do you want to leave a message?”

“Yes, please. Will you say that Jason called. Tell him I am making arrangements on my own to have my things removed from the house. I will get back to him.”

It was becoming clearer now, what was happening. He had no direct access to Augere whatsoever and he barely had access to Mr. Genier. He didn’t work for them anymore. They were distancing themselves. They were slowly severing all ties. He wondered how much longer before he was going to be put on permanent hold. That phrase was used among people he knew in his previous occupation to describe when you call a person or place and they pre-screen you. You never have contact with an actual person; you are automatically transferred to canned music, and the experience becomes a bizarre test of endurance: will you actually hold the line for five, ten, twenty minutes or more, before realizing no one is ever coming, and hang up? Because no one is ever going to answer. No human even knows you are there, waiting on the line. “Your call is important to us—in another galaxy, far, far away.”

Now what? he wondered. What are my options here?

I could write a letter to Augere. Mail it to him in Boston, or to the Geniers’ PO Box. But he would never know if Augere ever got the letter, much less read it. What he had to say was far too important. For his peace of mind, if he was to ever have any again, Jason had to say the words to Augere himself. Even if he was met with derision or hostility, he had to do this.

I know things will get better for me. I won’t always feel this way. But it is just so hard right now. He felt broken. Beyond repair. Today had been such an emotionally exhausting day and he had no choice but to keep all of it inside, and not let his family see his anguish. It was wearing him down.

Carrie arrived home. She took one look at him and shook her head. “We are going out,” she said to him. “We need to talk.”

He didn’t have the will to put up any resistance. He sat on her bed, while she was in her bathroom changing her clothes.

As he numbly waited for her he gazed at the objects on her dresser and recognized a little present he had sent to her from New Orleans, when he had gone on that first auspicious trip in March. It sat under glass, like a treasured fragile object.

It was a little sugar skull, exquisitely detailed. A small tag attached to it read:

A sugary treat that’s sweet to find

A souvenir of a happy time

A reminder to live your cherished dream.

And come on back to New Orleans!

Come dance with the dead in New Orleans!

The words and sentiment had struck him as so sweetly strange and so perversely odd when he had discovered these. A bizarrely gothic themed item he had thought at the time. He had gotten several for himself also, now all but forgotten. This seemed to be speaking directly to him. I’m really losing it, he thought. Yet he felt strangely drawn to this. The words stuck in his mind. I need some direction, he had been thinking. I need to know what to do. Is this sugar skull a sign? Strangely enough he felt it was. He released a deep sigh. Or maybe his mind was just grabbing at anything and everything for direction and reassurance. Crazy.

It was three-thirty in the afternoon. He checked his phone again. No messages. He wanted to call Genier, one more time. He knew he was bothering Genier now, and that fact bothered him too. He did not want to be acting this way. But he needed to have reassurance his stuff had not been moved yet. He needed to know there was still a chance. He managed to convince himself it was reasonable for him to call again for that purpose.

“I’m sorry. Mr. Genier has already left for the day. You just missed him.”

Damn. Should he even bother to leave another message? He wanted to say—

In a slightly lowered voice, practically a whisper, the same girl’s voice he had connected with each time went on to say: “Mr. Augere just called and missed him too. From a local number.” And then she hung up.

It took Jason a few moments to process what she had told him. The meaning and significance of it.

She was, discreetly it seemed, letting him know Augere had finally called. Had Genier really been in the office just then? Maybe. Or was there someone else she did not want to have hear her? And why else had she whispered…“a local number”?…because…He realized with a start: she was telling him Augere was in New Orleans. Well, that was good to know. Then Boston was not the place to go right now.

Jason thought over the few brief conversations he had had with Genier this past week: Mention was made he had been busy with meetings. “Mr. Augere accepts that things happen and he just goes on.” And now Augere was in New Orleans. Suddenly, it all came together; he knew what was happening, what it all must mean…the significance of it.

Augere was looking for a new assistant. That had to be it. That was why he was in New Orleans. And why Genier was so busy now. That must be why they had rushed the papers to him. They were looking to replace him, as soon as possible. This must be the case. Maybe…they had already found someone new.

Carrie came out of the bathroom, having changed into an Edgar Allen Poe shirt and black jeans. He thought, vaguely, as he stared at her, how much he liked the shirt. He was seeing her, but not really seeing her. Then his mind went blank for several moments.

Then, his next thought took him by surprise. I didn’t think I could feel any worse, but I was wrong. The thought of being replaced was more painful than he could have imagined.

“I’d been wondering when the other steel toed boot was going to land,” Carrie said to him then, her hands on her hips, noting Jason’s expression. “I’d say the boot has landed.” She gently took him by the hand. “Come on.”

He allowed himself to be led. Carrie drove them to Books Rock. Jason was silent during the ten minute drive.

Carrie selected a quiet table, at a distance from anyone else. When the server approached she asked him, “Do you want to order anything?”

“Hot tea would be good,” he replied absently.

“Okay. I’m getting a chicken salad wrap and hot tea also,” Carrie stated. “You should eat, Jason.”

He gave her a blank look for several moments. “Will you order for me? I can’t brain today. I have dumb.”

Carrie laughed and ordered the same for him.

She took hold of one of his hands for a moment, and remarked how cold he felt, before letting go. “Start wherever you need to,” she said.

“It’s just…there was a situation…” He shook his head. “You think things are a certain way, but then you find out otherwise. Things change so dramatically. I didn’t want to accept it, but then I had no choice. I didn’t do anything wrong, but then I really did not handle things well. Things seemed to get worse, and now…it is just…finished.”

Carrie stared at him, blinking several times. “Well… none of that is even remotely clear.”

She continued staring at him for a moment. The tea arrived; Carrie took a few moments to reflect on what he’d said, while she added honey to both of their Earl Grey’s.

“So—that’s what this is all about? The worry and anxiety. The angst and paranoia. Distraction and misery and trouble functioning, all because of—a relationship? It’s—girl trouble?”

Jason expressed a deep sigh and shook his head.

She continued staring at him. Then her eyes widened slightly and she leaned in a little closer and lowered her voice to almost a whisper.

“Boy trouble?”

“What…?…No.” Why does everyone just assume that I’m—

“Well, we are getting nowhere and I need something to work with here…okay, what is the one thing you could do to make this situation less painful for you?”

Jason looked up from his teacup. He was really touched she wanted so much to help him. But he shook his head.

“I know you are an adult who can handle his own problems. I know you keep a lot of stuff to yourself. And I realize you may believe I am too young and haven’t had enough experience in life to be handing out advice to others. But I know when someone is in pain. And maybe all I can offer is a chance to see things from a different perspective. When we walk out of here, I can just about bet you will see things differently. So—to answer the question then…”

“I need to say something I feel needs to be said.”

“What is stopping you from doing that?”

“I don’t have access to the…who I need to talk to.”

“Still on the planet, though?”

Jason nodded.

“Then there is hope. What are your options?”

“Mail a letter, I guess.”

“You can mail a letter,…but you can’t do what you need to in person…because you don’t have access…?”

“It’s complicated.”

“Let me ask this: once you have said what needs to be said—then what? You could be satisfied with that? It would be settled and done once and for all? You could walk away? Or things would be resolved, and the outcome would be what you wanted?”

He found he could not answer right away. And he became concerned his silence was saying too much.

“It’s already done.” He shook his head. “It is already finished, and decided.”

“Not for you, it isn’t. That’s pretty obvious.”

“It is broken. Beyond repair.”

“It seems to me—the thing I would be asking myself—first—is it worth fixing? And is it able to be fixed? Because the Dalai Lama said: ‘If a problem is fixable, if a situation is such that you can do something about it, then there is no need for worry. If it is not fixable, then worry won’t help.’ Or words to that effect. I interpret this to mean: take whatever action is needed to fix whatever can be fixed. Or accept what you cannot fix or what cannot be fixed. So—are you so sure everything cannot be put back together again? Do you know that for an absolute fact?” She paused. “And can you accept it if no matter how much you want this, or how carefully you try to repair this, you just cannot put it back together?”

Her choice of words took him by surprise.

They brought Redlyn’s words back to him. Had she said everything could be…or would be, put back together? “Everything has to be put back together.” He thought that was it. Those seemed to be her exact words, or close to it. Maybe this wasn’t as hopeless as it seemed. Maybe, if Redlyn was right, again, then maybe Carrie could be too. And he had to agree with the Dalai Lama’s wisdom.

All of this implied that action would be needed; an action only he could take, action that was required of him. That was how he chose to interpret it.

He felt like he was being given the signs he had been looking for. The path he needed to take was suddenly clear to him now. All the signs pointed to the same thing.

“I have to go to New Orleans,” he said suddenly. His face took on a look of mild surprise.

“What? Why?”

“I have to meet my boss there.”

“But what about this? Aren’t you going to try to do something about this first?”

I just did, Jason thought. I made a decision.

“I guess I will just have to wait and see about that.”

Chapter 22

Nola Redux

Even as his flight took off for New Orleans Jason already felt that he was on the most hopeless quest imaginable. Maybe this was the craziest thing he had ever done. He stood no chance in hell of actually finding Augere, much less talking to him. But he did not know what else to do. He had nothing to lose by trying.

Even from the depths of his misery, the city managed to take his breath away. Once he arrived and began to walk the streets, it was as if he was experiencing the city for the first time, with fresh wonder.

He was only allowing himself a week; it was all he could comfortably afford even with the good weekly rate he was able to get at his French Quarter hotel. Realistically, and financially, it would be insanity to pursue this longer, at the same time realizing a single week would be almost meaningless. As it was, he had no idea where to even begin. Mentally he fully realized the futility and the ridiculousness of the venture; but he was operating on an emotional level and now reason had little to do with it.

He saw the point now: why the Geniers kept the location of their office such a secret. Probably for occasions such as this. The secrecy made it easier to distance themselves. It had been easy enough to fool his family about his real intentions. So far they knew nothing of what was really going on. He had already been packed, with the idea of returning to Boston to try to talk to Augere, so it was a simple matter to convince everyone he had meant to go to New Orleans all along.

He freshened up at the hotel then went out to get some personal items, things he hadn’t thought of in his sudden haste to travel. He needed a notebook and pens; a map of the French Quarter; some Cokes and snacks to live on. This would not be a vacation this time, but a serious project. Having paper and pens at his disposal, something with which to organize himself, always made him feel more confident of success. Now he could formulate a plan. So far, he had none.

Did Augere stay at a hotel when he was in New Orleans? Or with the Geniers? Did he favor the hotel where Jason had stayed on that previous visit? That might be a place to start…but hadn’t there been mention of Augere having his own place here? Yes…And what about that restaurant where they happened to meet? Perhaps that was a favored place…or would be, maybe, if Augere ever ate anything. There was a lot he did not know, or was just putting together about Augere. Jason went to, and spent a brief time at both of those places, but soon grew too restless to just sit and stake them out. He began to wander aimlessly, feeling as if fate might take or lead him where he needed to go.

His mind wandered; he paid scant and scattered attention to his immediate surroundings, though he was ever mindful he was in a city that held much appeal for him. He became somewhat lost. He knew the general direction to get back to the busier part of the French Quarter, probably no more than seven or eight blocks or so, but just now he was in a quiet, unfamiliar residential area. He came to a corner, and was about to turn around and head back in the general direction from which he had come, when something of particular interest suddenly caught his eye. A quite overgrown space which turned out to be a private, secluded courtyard, surrounded for the most part by a high stone wall, but also protected by a tall black iron fence around part of the perimeter. He stepped in close to peer through the thick, densely exotic foliage to get a better glimpse of the interior of the courtyard. A pleasant and delightful surprise greeted his eyes.

The courtyard was as wide as it was long. He could hear, and then following the sound, take in the view of a stone fountain—several in fact, one in the center and two others at the perimeters. He had to shift position several times to try to get better looks at these. He could see part of a narrow stone path; several container gardens, some with bright flowers, the rest with assorted greenery, placed at intervals along this path, and some wildly overgrown areas, as if these were deliberately allowed to flourish. The courtyard garden was a private, seductive oasis. He could just about make out now—the huge plants were well placed for privacy—that the narrow path formed a kind of labyrinth. The overall effect was lush and comforting: a quiet sanctuary from the busyness of the world, or in warmer months from the heat of a summer’s day. He moved further along the black iron fence to gain a different vantage point. Now he could make out a few benches; a small pond, or maybe a stone wading pool. Dappled sunlight forced its way in among the thick canopy of trees, creating both sunny and shady areas. Jason craned his neck to see as much as he could: a few statues were scattered about: an angel with large wings and outstretched hands, where birds were now perching; a realistic stone alligator with slightly opened jaws overlooked the pond; two other stone figures he couldn’t quite make out. Clear glass lanterns hung randomly from various trees or nestled among rocks. Jason imagined the overall effect of that candlelight would be magical in the dark, with all of the lanterns lit. He drew back suddenly—he had just caught some movement; it appeared someone was there, just out of sight.

He became self-conscious then, the guilty voyeur, visually trespassing. He had peered into many courtyards on his previous visit to the French Quarter, but had not been able to see as much detail as in this one. Nor had he felt as charmed with the others as with this, beautiful as those were. As he drew back from the fence, he noticed an intricate pattern he had failed to see when so close to it. Not just the customary and almost expected sharp pointed fleur de lis at the top of the gate, but also, worked into the overall pattern, small spider webs and tiny bats; small basic skull shapes amid the elaborate arabesques. He had seen this before! He hadn’t recognized it at first, the place seemed so much more overgrown now, and he had approached it from a different direction this time. He was more intrigued not just by the peacefulness this place seemed to hold—it was helping to lift and soothe his spirit—but with wonder at who was lucky enough to have such a secret secluded place, a haven that stood so uniquely serene. And how lucky he was to have found it again. The unexpected oddity of the fence intrigued him even more.

He decided he had better move on. He had enough to deal with now, without being accused of loitering as if casing the place. No doubt he had aroused someone’s suspicion by lingering there. At least for a short while he had been able to lose himself in the beauty and tranquility of this place again. It had helped, even temporarily, to banish the worry and emotional turmoil of the past week.

As he walked aimlessly, he automatically searched the faces of any male with dark hair who walked in his vicinity. As if it would be that easy. None was the face he sought, of course, and when he arrived at the Café du Monde for café and beignets, he was dismayed he had not remembered to pay attention to the address of that lush courtyard he had seen again. Not that it mattered, really. I will not likely see it any time again soon, if ever. That thought momentarily caused him to feel an aching sadness. He was losing everything that brought him joy.

He spent hours at the Café, searching among all the faces that went by, until finally, near midnight, he reluctantly headed back to his hotel feeling as if he had accomplished nothing. He found it difficult to sleep. The hotel had a small but pleasant courtyard with a lushly landscaped pool and he lingered outside for a while, enjoying the green oasis and the peace and quiet. His mind brought him to that other courtyard now. He began to remember happy memories of his previous trip to New Orleans. The city was once again working its charm and magic on him, and eventually he was able to return to his room and enjoy a restful sleep.

He awoke with a start and a sense of urgency the next morning. He rushed out the door as if there was no time to lose, though he still had no specific plan or agenda.

He decided to spend some time at the Café Maspero, but the hour was still early and the place was not yet open. He could have slept in, he realized, but restlessness had not let him. His mind raced. He had been desperate to reach Genier just days ago; now he feared Genier’s call, especially since it would likely be in relation to having all of his belongings removed from the house in Boston. Jason still wanted to stall that move as long as possible. That remained his backup plan to try to speak to Augere, if—when—this venture failed. After that, his only recourse would be to write Augere a letter. Neither of those two options appealed to him as both held too much uncertainty.

He took up a position in the restaurant where he could see anyone who entered. He felt hopeful this morning, for no particular reason.

He really didn’t expect Augere to just stroll in. As his mind wandered, he began to recall the way Augere had moved so effortlessly. In one fluid motion. Jason deconstructed his own movements by way of contrast: first I would have the thought to stand; then slide to the edge of the bench, or place my hand on the table perhaps, to push myself up—he began to act out the sequence—then begin to stand up. It required several separate movements. Whereas with Augere—Jason began to picture it—it was as if thought and action were one. He would already be at the exit while I was still processing, unconsciously, my next move. Fascinating.

Jason became aware people were staring at him now and whispering. “It is probably not a good idea to act out my thoughts,” he mumbled to himself. When the restaurant staff had seated him upon entering and then had asked, as they observed him staring sporadically at the entrance, if he was expecting someone else, a hollow laugh escaped him. He wanted to explain he had met a vampire here once, and had hopes of doing so again. As long as it was the same vampire, of course. Instead of offering that explanation, he just shook his head, and continued to stare intently toward the door.

The restaurant staff were kind, and tolerant really, of him just sitting there with a soda he barely touched. He was hyper vigilant for any tall dark haired males, but he was trying not to call attention to himself. He began to draw up a grid on a piece of paper. He outlined streets from the map he carried. After studying the map, he didn’t know where else to look. Augere may be a creature of habit, as all humans were to some extent. Except, Jason reminded himself, Augere is not exactly human. The thought of that shocked him a little for a few moments. He was still getting used to things not being what they had seemed.

That thought took his mind off on a tangent. Just how different was he from the rest of us, Jason wondered. He knew the mythology of vampires; so far Augere didn’t fit that profile at all. Jason thought more about that. He had witnessed some strange things, to be sure, but not strange enough to label Augere vampire. Not the TV or movie versions. Augere rarely seemed to smile, much less laugh, but Jason was pretty sure he had not noticed any fangs. He was clear about that. But there was so much he did not know. And now, he thought sadly, I may never know. I had this unique opportunity, he sighed, and I totally blew it. He couldn’t let himself focus on that now; dwelling on that would be totally counter-productive. Okay. So Augere might be a creature of habit, still; he never saw Augere before 11 a.m., unless they were traveling. So, I probably should stay up late, looking for him, then sleep in a little. Then another disturbing thought: Augere was most likely out there looking for a new assistant, if one had not been found already. I might look for him to be wearing a suit, like the one I saw him wear when he first approached me. And maybe I should also be on the lookout for Matthew or Sean Genier, especially at that hotel where I stayed. It seemed the Geniers were used to conducting business there. Okay, good. Jason was pleased with what he had come up with so far. But it still wasn’t enough.

The waitress came to see, for the third time, if she could get him anything, and this time he ordered fries, which he had no intention of eating, and he asked her if she knew what places in New Orleans were associated with vampires.

The question did not seem to surprise her in the least. She wasn’t from here, she told him, having arrived here just within the past few years. But she volunteered, “I’ve heard of some weird stuff happening, at different places. Can’t say it has to do with vampires though.” She paused to reflect. “Except for the Ursulines, maybe.”

“The street?” he asked.

“The Convent,” she answered. “I don’t believe it myself. Just stuff I’ve heard about.”

He remembered, vaguely, a story about the place from the vampire tour he took. She went to put in his order. When she returned with the fries, he was ready with the next question.

“What kinds of things have you heard?”

She shrugged. “Just the stuff you hear on the vampire tours, is all.”

Okay. I need to do that tour again. Not that I actually expect real vampires, but it might give me some clues as to where I could look for the one real one.

He left to get a quick bite of lunch, missing for the second time at the same location the irony of leaving a place where he could have gotten an excellent meal to go find something to eat. Then he found an internet café and did some research. What he found was interesting stuff, but nothing really useful in a practical sense. A lot of the info about the Ursulines seemed like urban myth; hyped up fantasy to feed into the vampire mythology for tourists. He made a list of more places to try: blues clubs; he remembered Augere had mentioned he favored those. absinthe bars; okay, there weren’t that many, but he would try them. There wasn’t much else to go on.

He decided he would take a walk to the Ursulines convent, to check it out more thoroughly. He remembered vague reference to some vampire related myth in connection to the Convent on the vampire tour taken on his previous visit but he hadn’t taken it seriously. But somehow he didn’t make it make it to the Ursulines, having been lured into a blues club along the way. He thought to rest himself there a while. This was one of the things he loved about New Orleans: here, on any weekday, at late afternoon, there always seemed to be great music to enjoy. He lingered there for a while, having a few drinks, while he scanned the darkened room for the one face he needed to see. He moved on to several more clubs over the course of the evening, and slowly became more drunk and melancholy. After tiring of the bars he wandered the dark streets. There were still a lot of people about, so it felt safe enough. He passed a liquor store, one just about to close, and he bought a large bottle of Southern Comfort to take back to his room.

He fell asleep that night, more the result of the shots of liquor than from exhaustion, with the feeling that once again he had accomplished nothing.

The next day was cold and rainy, not a day conducive to wandering the streets aimlessly. He had not thought New Orleans could get as chilly as this even in mid-December. He sat in the Maspero, with cup after cup of hot tea, the staff pleasantly indulging him as always.

At one point, he jumped up suddenly, startling a young couple with their infant in a highchair, causing the baby to cry, and spilling the drink of a woman at an adjacent table as he rushed past her. He had spotted, and then dashed after in the cold drizzle, a tall slender young looking man with longish dark hair, wearing a long black trench coat, the collar turned up obscuring his features, who walked briskly past the restaurant. He caught up with him nearly four blocks later, only to discover he was just a tall, slender young man with long dark hair wearing a long black trench coat. Jason was terribly disappointed and it took a while for the rush of adrenalin to subside. The rain was intermittent throughout the day, but the chill persisted. He was upset he could not wander around more. He made another attempt to get to the Ursulines, but once again he could not get there, due to the weather and other distractions of one sort or another. He didn’t know what he expected to find there anyway; surely not Augere.

He spent time in two different bars that served absinthe. He gave the bartenders Augere’s description at both locations; apparently, no one with that description was a regular.

Jason wandered into a club, enticed by the sounds of vintage soul and blues. A torch singer was doing a set; some old Brenda Lee and Peggy Lee, and Jason was surprised he recognized some of the songs. His mom had an extensive collection of torch singers music and he had grown up hearing some of this stuff. He sipped at a drink, as he slowly searched the darkened room. He focused on figures in the shadows: one of whom was a young male—his facial features obscured by the dark with just his youthful hands visible with his arms folded across his chest; he held momentary interest and Jason stared at the mostly hidden figure openly.

Why couldn’t that be him? Jason asked himself, feeling weary and discouraged. Why couldn’t I just run into him here and then I could casually approach him. I could talk to him and end all this. He had been feeling melancholy to begin with, and now this music was making him maudlin. Time to move on.

He paused at a sandwich shop and got an order to go.

He wasn’t happy with any of his food choices lately; in fact he was barely eating anything at all, having no appetite to speak of. Even the beignets he loved barely appealed to him right now. What junk food he did buy, and ended up eating in his hotel room, was mainly just to have something in his stomach to offset all the liquor he was steadily consuming.

He bought more liquor— a larger bottle of Southern Comfort—and a small bottle of rum, and grabbed another six pack of Coke. He forced himself to walk around the dark, now nearly deserted streets, feeling cold and miserable, carrying both cash and the liquor, which even in his distracted state of mind he knew was not a wise thing to do.

After several blocks he became aware of footsteps walking behind him. His thoughts had been scattered and he had only noticed the footsteps when it seemed they were keeping up with him. When he paused, pretending to be looking in a store window, the other footsteps stopped also. This made him nervous, until the person passed by him. It would be a good idea to drop off the stuff he had bought back at the hotel. His intention was to go out again immediately, but he allowed himself to lie down for a short while upon reaching the safety of his room.

He must have slept briefly, because he awoke with the remnants of a dream still on his mind. The fragments he remembered: he was at a park with a lot of enclosed exotic animals, not unlike a place he had actually visited once. A large alligator sat quite close to public view. It rested so completely still it appeared to be dead; nothing about it suggested movement or any sign of life. Jason stayed quite close to it and he watched and studied it for a very long time, fascinated. A small fragile looking bird wandered near the still alligator, apparently as convinced of the absence of life as any other creature might be. And the alligator struck with such speed it had not seemed possible. Jason had been taking photos of the bird that very moment and still he had not been able to capture the movement. The bird was there one moment and gone without a trace the next.

The dream made him uneasy, even as it fascinated him. In reality he had actually once witnessed something quite similar. But why think of it again now? Suddenly, however, the images in the dream began to remind him of Augere. How still he could be. How well he might blend in with his surroundings. Your eyes could easily pass over him, and though he could be right there, you still might not see him. That subtlety, the same economy of movement, in all of his actions—he could easily pass unnoticed. Jason had no direct personal knowledge of it but now he had to consider Augere could be absolutely deadly. Wouldn’t that be his expected nature? This was a new fear he hadn’t even considered until now. Just what am I doing?

Mainly because it made him think of Augere, he saw the dream as a sign, a message to be aware; to look very carefully, and deliberately. I have to remember… he could be…right there, and I could still miss him. But it is clearly a warning too. What I’m doing could be very dangerous. He could be angry with me. He could think I’m trying to stalk him. He could strike so quickly, probably, I wouldn’t even see it coming. He shuddered suddenly, as the new fear took hold of him.

You never have to see him again.

That thought brought a wave of sorrow that washed over him and an anguished sound caught in his throat. Tears welled in his eyes. This completely and unexpectedly strong emotional reaction engulfed him and it was far stronger than his fear. No! I have to do this! I will see him. I must. Thoughts could manifest things. He had to stay positively focused. He had not been eating or sleeping well, and he’d been too upset and overly emotional lately. He just needed to stay rational and calm and focused. And find him. Then just say what I need to say and be done with it; get on with my life.

He went out again to wander the streets.

The city’s holiday decorations were showing up everywhere. It was a little more than a week into December, so it was unlikely they had just begun to appear. He was only just now noticing them. There was so much to delight the senses everywhere he looked, but all of it did little to cheer him. The thought of the upcoming holidays depressed him further.

I wish I could just indulge myself in my surroundings and let this go. Maybe I will get to come back here someday, and enjoy all of this then. Maybe I could bring Carrie. Or Zavi. Or both. I think they would like it here. It is a very romantic place. Images of him and Zavi, romping on a big canopy bed in some historic hotel, having wild passionate sex, drinking champagne and laughing with delight began to occupy his thoughts briefly. A deep sigh escaped him. I haven’t even talked to her since right before I left for Europe. Was it really only three weeks ago? She could have forgotten me and moved on with her life; she could be dating someone else by now. She could even be engaged for all I know. He sighed again. Now I’ve probably lost her too. How will I ever get to see her again? My life is never going to be the same.

He was startled out of self-pity by the sight of a pale young man walking toward him from a distance. Some of the same features—but clearly not Augere.

But what if it had been? What would he have said to him just now? He suddenly felt fearful again… of an actual surprise meeting now. Or of the fact he had no clear idea of how he should express what he wanted and needed to say. As fearful of finding him as of not finding him perhaps? There were too many unknowns; he hadn’t thought this through. Accepting the reality of Augere as vampire was hard enough; how was he going to handle actually seeing him again?

Again he pondered how to reconcile his images of Augere with ideas of mythological beings. Exactly what did it mean for him to be vampire? Did he control me? Was he able to manipulate me? Able to read my mind? It did not appear this was truly the case, but how did he know for sure? Had he stayed working for Augere, what would his life have been like? Would he have lost his sense of self? His mind, his freedom, even his sanity? Eventually, even his life? Exactly what did Augere and the Geniers have in mind for him? Just what I am chasing after here? I don’t know their motives and really, at this point, how well do I really know my own?

He thought he knew, thought he understood his present motives: his belief that he had caused Augere emotional pain, which he had not meant to do. He felt a strong need to correct a wrong; a misconception he believed he had created. But that answer seemed too facile just now. Was there more? Did he still have a craving just to be in his presence? And where had that come from? This had been something he had been struggling with from the beginning. He had often longed to see Augere, and then felt uneasy with that longing. Whatever compels me toward him, I know it is stronger than I am. Was this all part of that existence as vampire—evidence of Augere’s power over him? Or was it just a compelling charisma he had, vampire or not? It was hard to say; difficult to understand. Not that it might matter anymore.

I am free right now. I can feel it: free of him. A different sense than he had had in a while. He should just go. He could walk away from this and never look back. And it was his understanding, though he could still be wrong, that as long as he never said anything about Augere to anyone, he would have nothing to fear. He could believe that now; He was not able to believe it just days ago. The sudden realization of this freedom was both liberating and frightening. Did his spirit feel so light right now—because he was truly free and unburdened? Released from the auspices of him? Or did he feel so light and weightless and insignificant because he was so dead and empty inside, having lost that connection with Augere forever? Jason was not able to tell which of these it was.

He suddenly felt as if he needed to sit and think. Perhaps to rest and clear his mind of all thought for a while. He was in a state of weary confusion.

Absinthe. That is what I need. Clear lucid thought.

One of the absinthe bars he had been looking for was actually just a few blocks from the Ursulines convent. Of course the convent would be closed now, but he could still walk by there. But first, it would not hurt to have a taste of absinthe.

He found the place easily enough. It was situated on a corner, in an area filled with small friendly neighborhood bars and touristy shops. Jason looked in the window first. There were a few patrons. A young couple sat at one of the tables, while a few others Jason would call gothy types, two men and a woman, sat at the bar. He decided to go in. He could do with some goth friendly company, or almost any friendly company right now for that matter.

The female bartender, possibly in her early thirties, was wearing a purposefully tattered grey T-shirt dress over a black fishnet lace top, black tights and black Doc Martens. She had a small eyebrow piercing and a small fleur de lis tattoo on her wrist. She greeted Jason with a warm smile and a friendly hello. He liked the look of her, felt an instant warmth and rapport. He liked her tousled shaggy reddish brown haircut.

This might be his fifth or sixth experience with absinthe now, he couldn’t quite recall, but he asked her to recommend one for him. He watched as she prepared his drink and after a few sips he asked a question. “I’m looking for an acquaintance who comes to New Orleans often; in fact he is in town now. I’m not sure where he is staying but I think he might be kind of a regular here.”

“What does he look like? I know most of the regulars.”

“Tall, slender. Very pale. Neatly groomed long dark, nearly black, hair; dresses well, but usually casual. Almost a gothy, punk look sometimes, but not extreme. Might even wear an expensive suit sometimes. Rather unusual eyes. Very soft spoken, with just a trace of a hard to define accent. Young and rather good looking…did I mention—quite pale?”

She nodded knowingly. “Vampire, huh?”

Jason was startled. His focus on her intensified.

She rolled her eyes playfully. “Gee, we hardly ever see anyone that fits that description around here.”

He exhaled. He realized how the description must have sounded, considering the locale.

She frowned and then began to nod slowly. “There is a guy…sort of fits that description though. He looks a little too young to drink actually, and he gives us a hard time when we try to card him. So I do it just to piss him off sometimes.”

Jason’s heart skipped a beat. “Yes. Looks too young. Wears several gothic type bracelets, both wrists.”

She nodded, reflecting, as she looked off in the distance. “And lots of ear piercings.”

Jason’s hopes fell. He had never seen any piercings on Augere. Most likely it was not him.

“I hope it’s not your friend,” she said, giving him a sidelong glance, as she began to mix a drink for another patron.

“Why do you say that?”

“Well, let’s just say—he’s not very pleasant. Kind of a bastard, really.”

“It might not be him,” Jason acknowledged.

“I’ve told him if he wasn’t so pricky, I wouldn’t have to be such a condom about it. No ID, no absinthe.”

Jason nodded with a slight smile then sipped his drink. The bartender held a thoughtful expression as she was wiping down the bar and then she paused. “Damn easy on the eyes though, I’ll give him that. And speaking of eyes, his are pretty unusual.”

He left the girl a generous tip, and told her he would check in again, just in case his friend dropped by. It was the best lead he had so far, but he did not think she had been describing Augere. Still the place might be worth a second visit, just in case.

He left the bar feeling more tranquil, lucid, and strangely more hopeful than he had in a while. For a brief interval, he felt as if he did not have a care in the world. He gazed in shop windows as he strolled. He ended up at the Café du Monde again and was about to pop a piece of hot sugary beignet into his mouth when he remembered he still hadn’t made it to the Ursulines. He had let himself get distracted again and had turned in the opposite direction. He was just a few blocks from there at present, but now he felt lazy. Tomorrow. For certain, he would get there tomorrow. For what it was worth.

He sat at the café daydreaming while sipping a hot chicory flavored coffee. All the time I was with him, I was never afraid. Of course, I didn’t know then what I do now. But what did he really know? He was always curious about Augere; sympathetic to him; often fascinated, sometimes exasperated. Never knowing what was really going on with him. How much danger was he really in from Augere and his world? He barely had a glimpse of that and he guessed he would never know now. It was a moot point, he reminded himself. I guess I don’t need to concern myself with any of that anymore. This really is over. Only I just haven’t been able to accept it yet.

“Not for you, Jason.” He heard Carrie’s words again. She had been able to voice what he had not been able to.

There is nothing I can do about it, he complained to himself with bitterness. I asked to be let go, and that is what they did. It is not like I can just change my mind now. This is totally over. I have my resignation papers. Which, he now realized, he had not yet returned and still had with him. It didn’t matter. It was still done. They offered him a chance to think things over and he clearly said no, that he wanted out. He wasn’t in a state of mind to think it through at the time; they knew that, Allen even told him that, but he could not see it. They tried to give him a chance. It hardly mattered now anyway. What is done is done. I’ve probably already been replaced, or they are in the process of doing so already. I have to let go.

He was reluctant to leave the café, even though he was beginning to feel chilled in the open air. He numbly walked the streets. He was not yet ready to go back to his hotel, but he could think of nothing else to do. At least tomorrow evening he would have the vampire walking tour to do again.

He allowed himself to sleep in a little later the next morning, rationalizing that he would stay up later that night. He was still tired and his body felt achy. He got coffee to go and began wandering the streets on his way to the Maspero. But first—the Ursulines. No distractions or excuses today. He was starting to feel pressured and a sense of panic was creeping up on him. He felt he needed to stop at the Maspero first, no matter what. Today could be the day. Even the restaurant staff seemed to be expecting him. Like he was reporting for duty.

The staff stole glances at each other as he entered. They were still nice enough to him: the guy who ordered food he never ate and beverages he rarely drank. The guy who sometimes mumbled to himself and sat watching passersby for hours. I am becoming a mental case, Jason cautioned himself. They could be locking me up if I am not careful.

It was hard to just sit there. He had resisted checking his phone, but on impulse he decided to do so. Maybe Augere had gotten Genier’s messages, and decided to call him. No messages. Not even from Genier. This was the real reason he had refrained from checking his phone for several days. He couldn’t stand the thought that Augere knew he wanted to speak with him, but refused to allow that to happen. Now having this confirmed made him feel worse. And he worried about not contacting Genier again. Not hearing from him, they might act on his behalf. If all of his belongings from Boston just showed up in a big truck at his family’s door in Minnesota—they would surely know something was wrong.

You are just delaying the inevitable, he scolded himself. You are going to have to deal with all of this sooner or later.

“Okay. I choose later, then.”

He left the Maspero suddenly and walked several blocks to the corner of Ursuline Street. And could go no further. He stood at the corner with the convent just within sight. Was it fear holding him back? Fear of what? This was ridiculous. It was daylight. And even if it wasn’t, nothing could possibly happen. He’d gone to much more haunted and creepier places than the Convent could ever be; he’d stayed overnight at some of those. He’d seen and experienced some pretty strange things and was able to overcome his fears. What was stopping him from doing this right now?

Then he sighed heavily. Because it was just a big waste of time, that’s why. There was nothing to see, nothing he could learn of Augere. He was just desperate for any place to look. It was not important. Even though it might be worth a look, clearly, it was not going to happen. He could not come up with a good enough reason to advance to that next corner.

Having walked away from a meal he had ordered and not touched two hours ago, he now felt hungry. He bought a half of a muffaletta and a root beer at Central Grocery and sat outside on a nearby bench listening to live zydeco music playing a block away and thinking no sandwich had ever tasted as good as this. The tasty and filling lunch helped to revive his spirits a little.

He started wandering the French Quarter again and came to a small nondescript bar. He lingered outside for a while but then felt compelled to go inside. The place, though not much to look at from the outside, had a smallish but plush and welcoming interior. There was an old distressed wood bar, purple fabric covered bar stools and several comfortable looking armchairs and small sofas, all done in softly inviting fabrics. But what immediately caught his eye was a display on one wall: a large black baroque mirror was framed by two identical black open cabinets. The cabinets shelves stretched five feet or so wide on either side of the mirror and nearly floor to ceiling tall and were filled with votive holders of various sizes and designs, all of them repeating the Mardi Gras colors of purple, gold and green in sequences. All of these were lit, some with battery candles, and some with actual lit votives. Interspersed on the shelves were various Mardi Gras trinkets, including small stuffed alligators wearing beads; several small ceramic figures; various magnets, masks, voodoo dolls and fleur de lis items. The glow of the lights and the display of items had a charming and mesmerizing effect. Jason sat at the bar, enjoying a drink along with the ambience.

His eyes scanned the room taking in the more of the décor. The lack of TVs pleased him. Framed Mardi Gras posters, some vintage, some quite recent, hung on the walls. Skillfully painted ceramic masks also adorned part of one wall space and the mirrored bar area. Victorian brass sconces held Mardi Gras beads, while the tri-color scheme continued throughout, from the plush chairs and sofas to the purple and green painted walls with gold accents. The place had both an understated elegance and a flashy overdone look at the same time. He loved it.

It did not appear to be a touristy place as much as a tribute to the spirit of Mardi Gras. He thought it seemed more like a neighborhood hangout. Maybe a little gem the locals kept just for themselves. A neatly hand lettered sign over the bar read: HOME.

Photographs of New Orleans landmarks hung on the walls as well as numerous photos of people now probably long gone. Low key music coming through hidden speakers was softly playing, a kind of wistful Dixieland sound. Several locals—they did not look like tourists—were gathered around a large wooden boat placed at one end of the bar, talking, drinking and laughing. The wooden boat was empty but the friendly group urged Jason to come back during crawfish season when it would be overflowing with the delicious treat. He thought about coming back to this place for dinner.

Damn. I keep finding these great little places. I would love to just linger here the rest of the afternoon. He was torn between just wanting to feel happy and normal again, and the compelling quest to find Augere. I already made a choice, he reminded himself. And I really have to do this. I want to keep looking. I need to.

He reluctantly stood to leave and took a last look around the room as he pulled money out of his pocket to leave a tip for his drink. When he looked up in the direction of the bar something in the mirror caught his eye. He stared for several moments but it was already gone. It may have been a trick of the light, but just for a second he swore he saw someone, a person who resembled Augere, in fact, reflected there in the mirror. Someone who had been standing a few feet behind him. But when he turned around quickly to look, there was no one. He shrugged it off. Now I am imagining him in places he isn’t, just to be able to see him. Visual hallucinations. Great, he thought, wryly. Just what I need to make matters even worse.

Out on the street again, he resumed scanning the faces of any males who even vaguely resembled Augere. He had learned to quickly look away, once he realized he was sending out the wrong signals to the guys he saw, with his open staring. Sometimes they responded to his apparent interest. It became awkward at times.

Maybe…Jason thought, trying to bolster his flagging spirits, a werewolf will find me this time. Offer me a job and take me back to his lair. Of course I would probably have to clean up after it…I can just imagine the hair everywhere…I guess you probably get used to the wet dog smell after a while…maybe. That is one thing I have noticed about working with vampires…very tidy. Not a lot of unpleasantness around the house. And no fleas or ticks, that’s for sure.

Vampires. Plural. That thought was sobering. He had enough trouble believing in the real existence of just one. Never mind werewolves…or other vampires. It did not really occur to him there might be other very real supernatural beings. Other…vampires. And of course those portal things. He shuddered. Then experienced a fresh pang of regret.

More stuff he would never get to know now. Damn. Well, maybe it was better he did not know. Ignorance could be bliss. Yeah, he thought, but it can also be bitterly disappointing.

If Augere could exist, and those portal things too, who knew what else was out there? He had always had an open mind about such things. But now that he was confronted with this reality he knew what it meant to be careful what you wish for. And excited. What was worse than not ever seeing real proof of such things? Seeing these things and having them slip just out of reach to disappear and never be found again. Having access to something so amazing, so exciting and fascinating and then suddenly losing that connection and missing out on all of that. Another deep sigh. Still, I would do it all again. Just to have that chance. To be the person who knows it is all quite real, and to be able to experience it firsthand.

As evening fell he wandered in and out of several smoky blues clubs again, all of them competing for his attention with various types of blues echoing in the streets. But tonight was less about the music; his only interest was the faces in the crowd. And the features he was looking for were not to be found among the crowds this night.

Finally one club, from which emanated the husky sounds of a bluesy female voice with amazing piano accompaniment, singing and playing about love gone wrong, managed to pull him in and made him want to stay awhile. The words and music brought his own sadness to the surface as he tried to let go and release it. But his blues were not so easily shaken off.

Lately he was not as comfortable as he usually was with being alone. The thing to do now was to get really drunk and walk dark deserted streets alone. Maybe let a different fate take him. The thought was strangely tempting and the fact that, even momentarily, he entertained such an idea frightened him. That danger, and its possible consequences, was not something he would ever imagine seeking out. He was sinking even deeper into despair.

I am no closer to finding him than I was my first day here. I might as well be in Minnesota for all the good this is doing. It is going nowhere. What is the point? Augere is a ghost. One who will not ever let himself be found.

He had the vampire tour to look forward to tonight. He hoped it would take his mind off all of the morbid and negative thoughts.

He arrived in front of St. Louis Cathedral at the appointed hour where a small group had already gathered for the same tour. He wandered away briefly while the tour leader waited for others to show. He paused outside of Muriel’s Restaurant at Jackson Square. He knew, by reputation, that this charming place—he could see the diners enjoying their meal amidst beautifully elegant surroundings—was haunted. Again he felt pulled to something that had nothing to do with Augere. Maybe he should just let it go now. Accept the inevitable. He was just putting his life on hold, hoping to be able to do something here he had no chance of making happen. No. He shook his head sadly. I just can’t give up. I won’t. Maybe I will be able to come back here someday; have a nice meal at Muriel’s.

But not now. Not this time. I have to keep trying. I feel compelled to do this. He wandered back to the group. They were about to begin. He was looking forward to being with other people again for a while, even if they were strangers. The social isolation was beginning to wear on him.

Their tour guide was a petite woman who seemed quite knowledgeable and was rather entertaining. Along the tour, they stopped at a supposedly haunted bar. Jason took the opportunity to question the young woman and a young man who accompanied her on the tour, probably acting as a sort of backup guides perhaps, and, he guessed, maybe a provider of some protection.

“Where and what are the places most associated with vampires here?” he asked them. It was his real reason for taking this tour a second time.

“Well, we visit some movie locations you might recognize—”

“No, I mean actual places associated with real vampires. Places they would have connections to.”

The tour guides stared at him. “Well, we visit some locations associated with urban myth, superstition and folklore, but, well…you know, there aren’t any real vampires, so to speak.”

“Yeah,” Jason nodded, “I used to think that too. People say that about ghosts, spirits, whatever you want to call them. I have seen things that couldn’t or shouldn’t be, yet they are. A black and grey undulating smoky mist in my hotel room in San Diego, for example, that disappeared right into a mirror. I cannot explain that. But it was certainly real enough.” Jason paused and looked at the pair. “The Ursulines Convent?” he asked. “Any thoughts?”

“Well, I don’t have any firsthand knowledge,” the girl began, “but I know of guides who have a lot of experience doing these tours who have had some things happen that spooked them, relating to the Ursulines. But—vampires—no. No one can say that for a fact. We do make a stop there on this tour, however.”

The rest of the group, having had a drink and restroom break, were ready to move on now, but Jason wasn’t. As he waited in line for a drink in a go-cup, the rest of his group began moving on; he said he would catch up.

The group was still in sight as he emerged from the bar with his drink. They had stopped in front of a building Jason already knew the legends about. He would take his time and catch up. As he took a sip of his drink, something caught his eye in the dense shadows across the street. He stared for several moments. He was looking at a darker shadow, he thought, within the shadow of a doorway. Nothing ominous. Nothing as definite as a presence. Maybe a trick of the light; just a shadow. He stayed focused, watching intently. Something had moved in that doorway, but now there seemed to be nothing there. He turned his attention to his group, now in the next block; it was time to move on.

He walked slowly toward them, being careful not to spill his drink. They had just turned the corner, when he thought he felt the presence of someone close behind him. He turned around quickly, spilling a few drops: no one there. He stood peering into the shadows under a tree behind him. It felt like someone was right there but still he saw nothing. The streets were fairly well lit at regular intervals, and people passed by frequently. It felt safe enough. He shrugged and moved on toward the group. He had an overactive imagination tonight.

He paused as they listened to a story about the Carter Brothers. Quite possibly actual vampires… He found the story quite intriguing. I will have to do some research on this.

As the group moved on, he paused to set his drink down so he could take photos of the building mentioned by the guide. Something rustled briefly behind him. He paused thinking maybe someone just wanted to get past. But then no one was there. He was sure he had heard something. Then he needed to walk briskly to catch up to the others, but his drink slowed him down. He almost wanted to pitch it, but it was a local specialty and he was really enjoying it. Too good to waste.

There it was again. More of a feeling this time, rather than seeing or hearing anything. He paused and then slowly turned. He stared into the shadows for a long while. He could swear someone or something was there. He was sure of it. After a few moments he slowly resumed his pace.

In the next instant something rushed past, startling him. He took a quick look behind him and then a second later stared right in front of him. Something was messing with him. It wasn’t the wind, there was no breeze at all. But he saw nothing. As he resumed walking he strained to listen. He thought he heard footsteps, but as soon as he stopped, the sound stopped also. He couldn’t tell where the footsteps were coming from. He could see his tour group, about two blocks ahead of him now. He did not want to miss any more of the tour. And he was starting to feel a little freaked out but not fearful. He wanted to catch up to the others, hearing their laughter. He was missing interesting stuff, no doubt of it.

The footsteps again. Soft, but distinct. He quickly turned around. No one there. And no place for anyone to hide. There was still no sense of anything menacing. Just once again…a presence. Now he quickly drank down the last of his drink, and tossed the cup into a receptacle as he neared the group. Then, as he turned the corner where they had just passed, and while they were still in sight, he was sure he had seen a tall figure out of the corner of his eye. He felt more curious than fearful now. The group remained within sight. Except it seemed a smaller group. Was it even the same one? Other walking tours were out and about. He hurried to catch up. And still, he felt it: something was there, just behind him now. He turned suddenly to look again, peering into the dark recesses of doorways. Nothing. It can’t all just be my imagination. Now, just ahead he thought he recognized members of his group: the guy with the “Why so serious?” T-shirt; the girl with the ridiculously high heels for a walking tour. As he approached them finally, he took a quick glance in the direction from which he had come. He had a sense of something… right there. He trusted his senses. He continued to stand still, peering into the shadows, aware the group was moving on again. Still he stood and stared. He was definitely being followed. He strained his senses to try to detect any slight motion. Now he had the sense of being stared at. Quite distinctly. The group had gotten farther away again. But he could not take his attention from whatever it was. He was aware New Orleans was said to be quite haunted. It seemed he was having his own paranormal experience just now. As he stared he thought he could make out the outline of a figure. Indistinct in form, but clearly there was some sense of it being directly in his path.

And now he had lost the group again; he saw no sign of them at all. However, a few minutes later a group—his tour group—were walking toward him. From the direction of the Ursulines Convent. Oh, no. Had they gone there already? Had he missed it? It couldn’t be. Damn it!

He fell in step with the group again, staying close to them now. “That was one of the best stories so far!” one woman was saying to her companion. “I know!” her friend agreed. “And what an unexpectedly creepy feeling for a convent to have, right?”

“Yeah. I want to check it out again in the daytime. We have to go back there tomorrow. Which shutter did she say it was again?”

Damn— he had missed it. I’m on a tour that actually went to the Ursulines with knowledgeable guides who made comments about the legends surrounding it—and I still managed to miss it! How is that even possible? He half thought of going back there on his own right now, but he had already missed the stories that went with it. Now he didn’t want to miss anything else. And he didn’t really want to be completely alone either. He preferred to have company right now, even if it was just strangers.

For another block or two, he continued to feel a kind of presence nearby, but each time he turned quickly to look there was the sense of movement just missed. Just a second too late to catch whatever it was. Jason decided to ignore it. And then, just as the tour was about to end, whatever it was—it was just gone. Jason could not rule out that it was all just his imagination, or that at least some of it might have been.

Several people lingered with questions for the guides at the end of the tour and Jason got to hear a few of the interesting details he had missed. But not nearly enough.

Damn. After doing this vampire tour twice now, I still do not have any information I could use, and I still managed to miss hearing the myths about the Ursulines Convent. If there were vampires here, he would never know. It was nearly 10 p.m. and though he felt very tired already, he decided to sit near Jackson Square, hoping once more to find what he needed among the strangers passing by.

He had to change his location several times, too restless to stay in one place for too long. By 11:30 he began slowly walking back to his hotel.

He hadn’t stopped for dinner and he was feeling a little hungry now. He didn’t know where he might send out to have food delivered, and then realized he didn’t care enough to eat anyway. Once back in his hotel room, feeling more discouraged, the Southern Comfort and Coke became his dinner, until the Coke ran out. Then it was just straight shots of Southern Comfort, until he passed out.

***

“Oh…ow, ow…ouch…okay, okay…I won’t do it again.” His whimpering came out in a hoarse whisper, fearing his voice would sound thunderous even to himself, as he slowly eased his head back onto his pillow while shielding his eyes even in the darkened room, when he awoke the next morning.

It took a few moments until the room finally stopped spinning. His head was throbbing. It was time to pay up for all the drinking he had done the night before. He lay still for a few more minutes. Finally, driven by the desire to get to the bathroom to void, he carefully rolled himself gently to the side of the bed and slowly sat up. Every movement was slow and painful. This is not good.

A cool shower helped to revive him somewhat. He could really use a cold can of Coke right now. He wanted just to crawl back into bed, but he refused to let himself. He made his way down to the hotel’s breakfast room, where he made the effort to drink some juice. He was slowly feeling a little better but his head was still throbbing. He sat by an open window that let in a delightfully cooling breeze that helped to revive him some more. He would like to have lingered there with his eyes closed and his head pressed against the window frame to catch the full breeze a little longer but a girl was eating cornflakes several tables away and he could not handle the noise. He was still moving quite slowly and painfully. He waited for the elevator to take him to the lobby and the bell that sounded its arrival invaded his head with the force of a hammer.

He hoped once he got out to the street he would feel better. But that was not happening so far.

The words of Mercury are harsh after the songs of Apollo. He didn’t quite know what had prompted him to think of that phrase. He walked to a small shopping complex that had several floors, one of which was a food court that looked out over the Mississippi. He sat there for a while, gazing out on the river as he sipped a cold Coke. He idly began doing a mental inventory of all he had been through for almost four weeks. There had been so many highs and lows, it was still hard to grasp all of it. He had been on an emotional roller coaster that had left him physically, mentally, emotionally and spiritually exhausted. He really just wanted to go back to his hotel and crawl into bed. He was sure he could sleep for days.

A sense of gaiety and cheer surrounded him, much of it having to do with the holidays, but he felt immune to all of it. This was a terrible time of year to be looking for full time employment. He would have to return to his family in Minnesota soon. There would be no joyful holiday this year, not for him. He stared glumly out at the river, reluctant to get up and move. It was still just late morning and much of the day lay before him, with no plan in mind.

He began to think of what his life would be like in the coming months. The very thought hurt his head more.

“I lost a job with the most amazing perks ever.”

Now even the things he had been interested in before taking the assistant position held little appeal for him. Was he supposed to get excited now to get an EVP of some janitor from 1930 in some hotel in the Midwest? Or if he caught an “unusual” orb on film? I just walked away from the best, and maybe the most interesting supernatural experience that I, or anyone, is ever likely to have. And with that the chance to experience even more phenomena.

You—this way, we—that way. Love’s Labor’s Lost. He didn’t know why these strange phrases kept popping into his aching head. It was like he didn’t have the will or strength to stop it. He shook his head, and immediately regretted the motion and the accompanying pain. He had to get up finally and start moving again. He walked along Decatur Street, intending to go to the Café du Monde, though he wasn’t the least hungry, not even for beignets. He had no appetite.

It was already past noon. He just kept walking and then realized he had arrived at that same promising absinthe bar again. He peered into the windows. A youngish couple stood at the bar and seemed focused on some artwork on the wall. A tall guy with longish dark hair wearing a long black velvet looking jacket also stood at the bar with his back to Jason.

That is almost the kind of thing Augere might wear, Jason thought, otherwise he seemed of no particular interest. He considered going in, just to check out the place again. But he couldn’t face another disappointment just now. Nor could he face what seemed like the cheery atmosphere of the place just then. That was not the ambience he needed at the moment. And he certainly couldn’t handle a drink right now. He decided to go back toward the café instead.

If I lived here, he mused, I probably would never come here as often as this. All of the little lagniappes this city had to offer, all of the little pleasures and the indulgences were slightly less likely to appeal to someone who had this available to them all the time. Sometimes, only the tourist could really appreciate what everyone else might take for granted. Although people in New Orleans were really more fond of their city and indulged in the local treasures more than other places he had traveled to, so it might be less true here. He was slowly starting to feel a little better. The strong chicory coffee he sipped was working some magic on him and brought him a measure of comfort.

What to do now? What was the best way to spend his time? Maybe he shouldn’t have a plan; just wander, aimlessly. He still felt tired and listless but rallied some motivation to continue. He was constantly aware time was running out.

He walked along, browsing shop windows, with no particular thought now, about anything. Then an idea occurred to him: maybe that was it—he should just wander and try to visit places he hadn’t seen. He was just as likely to find Augere in those places as anywhere else probably. And who knew when he might ever be back here again? Maybe if he didn’t focus so hard, and just let things happen…He tried to work up more enthusiasm for the idea but had to fight recurring feelings of exhaustion and depression, of hopelessness and futility.

He spent the day in a desultory fashion, and did see a number of interesting places he hadn’t before: he passed an old pharmacy museum. Noted the bar that had stayed open during hurricane Katrina. He still had no appetite but felt the need for hydration and took in some healthy beverages along the way.

The day seemed to pass quickly. It had grown dark so early, and Jason had little desire to continue to wander the dark streets, but it was only nine thirty: too early to give up and head back to the hotel.

He paused in front of a store window with dusty displays and an old sign that read “Diverse Oddities and Curiosities.” He slowly looked over the goods, his eyes traveling from one interesting object to another. All of what he saw was intriguing, but most of it not anything he was inclined to want. Until his eyes rested on a small statue, no more than six inches or so, the porcelain figure of a pale young girl. She had long, light colored hair and wore a long old fashioned dress of a single pale color. It was a completely unremarkable figure except for two things: her eyes, and the object she held in her hands. The object was painted brown and appeared to be a spire of wood. Her eyes—he had to strain to peer at these more closely—were totally red with small iridescent pin points at the centers, which made them appear to glow slightly. It was one of the creepiest and most unusual things he had ever seen. Too bad the shop was closed; he would have gone in and inquired about the price. It was something he would very much like to have.

He continued walking thinking about the small statue and otherwise lost in his thoughts. If it wasn’t for that, and the fact that he was tired and still somewhat hung over, he might have noticed the determined footsteps sooner.

As it was, he had had a vague awareness of the footsteps behind him for a short while. Now it seemed as if someone was purposely following him. Probably nothing of any concern. But he noted with some dismay he was on a dark, nearly deserted street now, and he still had eight, or maybe twelve, he was not sure, blocks to walk to his hotel.

He continued to walk without much concern. No city was without some crime, but he didn’t necessarily see himself being at risk. He did quicken his pace somewhat though. As did whomever was following him. When he had to stop at the corner to let a single car pass before he could cross the street, he paused to listen and heard nothing.

My imagination is running away again.

He continued walking briskly, and now the footsteps returned, seemingly accelerated in pace also. He considered what he had on him: ID. Two credit cards. About $100 in cash, the rest having been left at the hotel. It was reckless of him not to pay attention to his surroundings. He had been too distracted lately.

He slowed his pace considerably, hoping to let the other person pass by. There was only silence and no one came forward. He paused at another shop window, again pretending to be interested in the display and to let this individual pass by him. No one did so. He continued to walk a short distance, then abruptly crossed the street and resumed walking briskly again, finally slowing after walking two blocks or so.

His heart was pounding now but he maintained a normal steady pace. He paused briefly and listened. He heard nothing; he wanted to turn and look around him, now that he had some distance. The sound of the footsteps reappeared then, on his side of the street. That’s what I should do, he thought. Turn suddenly and visually confront whoever is there. Stare them down and just wait until they pass me. He listened, hopeful that soon there would be nothing to hear as he resumed walking.

He began to consider what else he could do: if he did stop and confront—what if there was a weapon, and he was about to be robbed? Or what if there was more than one assailant?

He walked briskly and the follower seemed to pick up the pace also. This was definitely not good. There was no one else on the streets. Not even a car passed.

When he approached a streetlamp he paused for a few moments and then suddenly turned in the direction of the follower. The footsteps abruptly stopped. A figure seemed to move quickly into the shadows of a doorway, but not before Jason could catch a glimpse of a stocky man, possibly a swarthy complexion, who had both hands in the pockets of a short dark jacket. A knitted cap covered his head with seemingly no hair visible and the man had a downward glance; no direct eye contact. Jason got a menacing sense from the man, enough to make him very uneasy.

Jason resumed his quick pace as he considered the possibilities and his options. His most recent fear and paranoia returned: this could be someone sent to kill him because of Augere’s secret. Suddenly he thought that could be very likely. Or, this could just be a random act, someone out to rob anyone they came across. Either way, he was in a dangerous situation.

Jason felt the adrenaline rush and his hands and legs began to feel numb. He tasted fear. He wondered if his legs could obey him if he needed to run. He remembered a hotel several blocks from his own—probably no more than three to four blocks from where he was now. If he could make it to the lobby there, he would be a lot safer than if he tried to make it all the way back to his hotel. He began to walk quickly in the direction of that hotel, keeping an eye out for any taxi along the way.

He crossed the street again, walking as quickly as his legs would allow, ready to break into a run if he had to. He heard the footsteps quicken behind him and flinched as if he could just about feel a hand grab at his shoulder. Now the hotel was just in sight, no more than a block and a half. Just as he broke into a run he heard a sharp cry, a sound of pain, surprise, and fear all in one, a sound that was suddenly cut short. The sound propelled him even faster and he dashed into the lobby, gasping for breath, as a startled clerk looked up from the desk in alarm. Jason turned to look out the lobby window back toward the direction he had come. He saw nothing and no one. The dimly lit street looked deserted. He was badly shaken; his breath ragged as he tried to compose himself.

“Would you be able to call a taxi for me?” he asked the clerk in a shaky voice. The clerk nodded slowly and hesitantly. After he had placed the phone call, Jason began to tell him the story of the harrowing past ten minutes or so. The clerk asked if Jason was in need of medical attention and wondered aloud if the police should be called. Jason shook his head, and said there was nothing certain to report at the moment, no tangible proof of any crime.

Within fifteen minutes he was safe in the lobby of his own hotel, and grateful to be heading to his room. He was unable to settle himself for a long while, reliving the events, the footsteps of the stranger still echoing in his mind. The man had meant him harm; he was sure of it. But then—what had happened? He didn’t really care; he was alive and unharmed. For the second time in weeks he had felt as if his life was truly in danger. A drink might have helped to steady his nerves but he really didn’t want any alcohol. He made a cup of tea in his room and turned on the TV to have some company and some diversion. Exhausted, he soon fell sound asleep.

He slept in the next morning. His body protested when he tried to get up and so he fell helplessly back into the comfort of several pillows, not at all willing to put up a fight.

It was 11:30 when he finally got into the shower and then got dressed. He still wasn’t hungry but thought he should eat something. Nothing really appealed to him; he still had no appetite. He could use some coffee and orange juice but he wanted a quiet place today. A dark corner where he could sit and brood for a while. He didn’t think he could face the usual places just now. It was all too depressing.

He had today, and that was it. Technically tomorrow was the seventh day, and he had promised himself a week to try to find Augere. But somehow, the idea of dragging it out to the last hour, the last minute, only depressed him more. The level of desperation he would reach in those last hours would be almost too painful to bear. He had only this day left, really, to find him. Tomorrow he would have to give up and go back to Minnesota.

He had no plan now except to just to wander the streets, look at and enjoy and absorb all the city might offer that could cheer and interest him, even if just briefly.

He went into a Voodoo shop on Bourbon Street. He looked over the amulets for protection and prosperity, for luck and health, and for every sort of wish humans could have. Nothing here for me though, he thought. Nothing to find and draw a reluctant vampire to you.

He paused to peer into shop windows as he strolled. There will be a sign, something to guide me… something to tell me what I need to do or where I need to go. I have to believe that. Some help will come from somewhere. It has to.

He stopped for coffee and some juice at a small café on Royal Street. Charming as only New Orleans places could be, in an old courtyard setting. Another place to remember and return to someday. He tried to be hopeful.

He paused as he left the café, wondering where to go next. He was on a section of Royal Street he hadn’t walked before. Well, then, today would be the day. This was to be a day for new experiences.

He walked leisurely, taking time to stop and peer into any shop window that caught his eye along the way. At the window of a shop near Toulouse, selling items with a New Orleans theme, he lingered for a while. Some of the items celebrated southern or French, Cajun or Creole culture. It was an eclectic mix, and much of it very appealing to him. There were many fleur de lis themed items. He took time to look over everything in the window display, and then wondered if he should go inside. Then he suddenly remembered that small figure of the young girl in the curiosity shop, and he immediately set out to go and find her. He wanted to have that odd little statue. But then something in a shop window he passed caught his eye and held him there: it was a small plaque, gold lettered against a black background. The words brought him an ineffable sadness and very nearly a rush of tears.

Ah, yes. There you are, Jason. You see? It is the sign you have been waiting for. A literal sign though. The cosmos is trying to reach out and help you… Making the point clearly, so you won’t miss it. So you will finally get it.

The plaque read: Depuis que j’ai perdu espoir, je me sens mieux. He translated: Ever since I lost all hope, I feel better.

The universe wants me to give up hope for anything coming from this foolishness, and to get on with my life. Accept what is.

He numbly walked to the next corner which now put him on Chartres Street. He stood there on the corner, uncertain of what his next step would be today, or for the rest of his life for that matter. He could barely think what to do. The message he believed he had received now fully occupied him and clouded his thoughts. Then his eye caught the sign hanging in front of an intriguing old building across the street: it was the Napoleon House and Café. He had never been there before, though he had wanted to go. Well now would be the time. He very much needed a drink.

He entered the café and walked up to the bar. Classical music was softly playing. The place felt crowded with lunchtime patrons but it was not too noisy; the music could still be heard. He immediately felt comfortable with the look and ambience of the place.

“What will you have, sir?”

“Do you have a beverage suitable for commemorating finally reaching the lowest depths of human misery?”

The bartender turned his head at a slight angle. “That is going to be a tough one. I would suggest—you might want to start with a good stiff brandy.”

“Hmm. Yes. Napoleon Brandy.”

The drink was placed before him. He took a sip. Smooth, yet still had a bite to it.

This is it. I have to leave tomorrow. I need to take something with me from this experience. I just cannot leave here with nothing.

He sipped his drink slowly, savoring it. He wanted to linger there a while. He enjoyed the old worn look of the place, the stylish and homey décor. But he felt a restless need to move on. Not that he had anywhere in mind to go. He was open to anything that came along. He thanked the bartender, taking a last glance around.

As he exited, he needed to get his bearings again. Now which way had he been going?

Directly across the street, he was surprised to see a bar/restaurant called the Maspero. He hadn’t realized there were two different establishments with the same name.

Suddenly, it seemed to be an important sign; maybe one he shouldn’t ignore, even though he was sure he had already found his definitive sign. Curiosity, if nothing else, pulled him to that other establishment.

He walked in, past a dozen or so tables, and went directly to the bar along the far wall. This place offered a larger bar area than the Napoleon Café or the other Maspero. It was not too crowded at the moment; in fact he was now the only person at the bar though several patrons occupied a few of the tables nearby.

Might as well have another brandy.

He was going to use this place, serendipitously found, and this moment here and now, to try to fix an image of Augere in his mind. Tears began to well in his eyes. He felt a little embarrassed at this, but he did not brush them away.

He wanted as clear a mental picture of him as he could get. His features; his mannerisms; the sound of his voice. If he could picture him clearly, make it real enough, it could almost feel as if he actually did see him. He could try to make this moment, right here, as memorable as he could, and he could take that with him. He didn’t want…he just couldn’t leave New Orleans with nothing. Fix the images in his mind and then all he would have to do is recall the image of this place again in every detail and him along with it. Then he would own it, mentally at least. He could bring it all clearly back. For as long as he needed to. Strong emotion threatened to overwhelm him. Don’t lose it. Not now. Concentrate. Picture him in your mind. Be as clear, as concise and as detailed as possible.

He pictured the youthful, utterly smooth and extremely pale face. The straight nose, high cheekbones; the almost delicately formed mouth. Everything in perfect proportion. The long dark hair, falling in full waves that framed his face. Those extraordinary eyes and their unusual color. The almost regal posture ; his tall thin stature and the ever impassive expression. His signature steady gaze. The images came to him, joyfully sharp and clear. He sipped at his brandy. He was impressed with his ability to recreate the picture of Augere. It was him, and yet—not.

The image in his mind was still as lifeless as a photograph. A one dimensional representation, likely to be corrupted by time and memory; to visually fade and become indistinct mentally before disappearing completely over time, until he would not even be able to recall with any clarity exactly what Augere looked like. If only he could have taken just one photograph…it would still be better than relying only on memory.

He could not hope to hold that image. Or what it felt like to be in his presence. Or recall every word of their brief conversations. It was impossible to even try to imagine all he might have come to know had there only been time enough to become better acquainted with him.

Concentrate on his voice. Jason tried to find and fix that hushed quality, the softly spoken tone, in his mind. The way Augere could speak in such a low voice in a crowded room but you would still be able to hear every word distinctly: how did he do that? The cadence, the ever so slight accent; even the unusual expressions he sometimes used. He tried to think of words or phrases that were idiosyncratic to Augere; he wanted to try to get the enunciation just right and fix that firmly in his mind… he thought of a phrase.

“I understand you wish to speak to me.”

Hmmm. Yes…yes! That’s it! Well, pretty close. I’ve almost got it. There is that monotone that was so typical of him. Jason gazed into his glass of brandy with a puzzled expression. Except—not—that cold, detached quality…that seems…too harsh…And that phrase was not at all the wording Jason had been thinking of just now.

Several moments passed before Jason whirled around on his bar stool, startling the bartender at the far end of the bar, causing him to spill some juice he was pouring into a container.

Standing about ten feet away from him—wearing all black, looking resplendent…radiant…fully and truly present: Augere.

Jason gasped at the unexpected sight of him. A sudden powerful sense of elation lifted him off of his seat. All of the sadness that had so recently enveloped and weighed him down suddenly lifted off of his shoulders, became crushed by his sudden joy and fell away into a fine gray powder that scattered into the wind at the mere sight of Augere.

Jason wanted just to stand there and look at him; just take in the view. How impossibly paler he was than Jason remembered… Did his hair seem a little longer? His eyes were a somber gray just now…and the cold hard stare of those eyes was now fixed upon him. Jason had heard but quickly dismissed the icy tone that delivered Augere’s words, and even the obvious physical and emotional distance could not diminish Jason’s joy at the presence of him. Jason was dimly aware of all these warnings but scarcely took any particular notice.

“Yes, I do!” His voice was full of exuberance. “I wanted—”

“What are you doing here?” The tone was sharply critical. “Harassing strangers; behaving erratically; taking excessive alcohol and wandering dangerous streets at all hours.”

Jason had to push past his surprise at all Augere seemed to know.

“I…I was looking for you. I needed to see you, and I personally had to speak with—”

“You thought you could just find me?” Augere spoke with icy derision.

“No,” Jason shook his head. “No. I knew it would be impossible. But I had to at least try…and here you are.”

Augere’s eyes narrowed ominously. He regarded Jason with cold disdain.

Jason was undeterred. “I came to New Orleans because I figured you were here looking for a new assistant before going home to Boston.”

“I live here.” The sharpness in his voice cut to the bone like a bitter wind.

Jason stared at him, a little perplexed. “You have a place here…but you live in Boston…?”

“I have a place in Boston. I live here.” There was a mocking tone now. “You have spoken to me. Now go home.” Augere abruptly turned to leave.

Oh, no…No! No, he can’t just leave! The moment will be gone and absolutely never, ever come again. This is my only chance—right here and right now.

“NO! I have NOT spoken to you!” The boldness of his words surprised himself. Augere stopped and turned around with a look of mild surprise barely concealed under the cold exterior. He wasn’t used to being challenged by anyone.

Jason began to babble an unprepared speech in a pressured voice. He just had to get the words out, quickly if necessary.

“I just needed you to know I left because I was afraid, totally terrified and not because I wanted to leave. And—well you said you would kill me if I—”

“I will do so.” An icy warning.

“Yes.” Jason nodded in acknowledgment. “I know. So there’s that… But you—and the others—said I didn’t have to be afraid if I kept silent.”

“It is as I said,” Augere stated with angry impatience.

“But I wasn’t able to believe that. I was certain I had to be killed because I had learned something by accident I was never supposed to know. About you. I was never supposed to see that portal thing. It wasn’t my fault and it wasn’t yours. It just happened. I tried to say I wouldn’t reveal any of it to anyone, but it seemed no one was believing or listening to me. And the Geniers kept saying nothing was going to happen but I was just not able to believe it.” Jason took a breath. “Because I thought the only reason no one in the world seemed to know about you is because…” He paused to take another breath. “…if anyone did find out they would have to be killed. It was the only way such a big secret could possibly be kept. Everyone who found out had to die.” Jason finally paused and took a glance around. No one was remotely close enough to hear any of what was being said.

Augere’s expression reflected passive interest. Neither of them spoke for several moments.

“I don’t know what else I need to say to convince you I would never reveal anything about all of this. I do understand how it has to be. I would never violate that.”

Now Augere’s attention appeared focused on a point above and to the left of Jason’s head, as if he were bored and disinterested; as if he wished to hear no more and had no desire for further eye contact. As if Jason had already ceased to exist.

“But that’s not the most important thing I needed to tell you. That’s not why I’m here.”

Now Augere looked at him warily.

“What made me feel even worse about all of this is that I really like you—”

“Liking me is not required.” Ice formed around the words as Augere spoke them.

“Well, you don’t have to like it that I like you.”

Augere arched his eyebrows slightly.

Jason vaguely wondered where his sudden boldness came from. The words seemed to have a life and purpose of their own, separate from all his body was feeling, which was, for the most part he suddenly realized, a stark cold fear…of Augere? Or…of something else he had yet to define to himself. He didn’t know.

“What I also needed to tell you is I couldn’t stand it if you thought the reason I left was because of what you are. Or if my actions caused you to think I thought any less of you because of your circumstances. It is painfully abhorrent to me to think the way I acted that day may have left you with that very wrong impression. That was definitely not the reason I left— it was not revulsion or disgust directed at you…never that. And I needed to tell you this in person. That is the main thing I had to say. The one reason I had to come here to find you.”

Jason was spent. An empty vessel that had survived turbulent winds and endured high seas and was now just drifting. He could not begin to think what his next words or his next move might be.

Augere regarded him silently for what seemed like a very long and uncomfortable interval. After only a few moments under that stare, Jason had difficulty meeting the intense gaze and he had to lower his eyes.

Augere took several steps closer bridging some of the gap between them.

“Where are the keys to the house?” He asked tonelessly, his expression inscrutable.

Jason looked up quickly. It took several moments for the meaning of the words to have an impact on him. Oh no. NO! Please…no. That must be why he is here right now. He needs to get the keys away from me. All of my things are probably gone from the house by now. There is no reason for me to go there ever again. All that remains now is to get my house keys from me and then they will be done with me forever. And suddenly, the thought of that was too unbearable.

“Please…I…” Jason heard the pleading tone in his voice and he stopped. Don’t, he urged himself. Don’t do this. He quickly tried to compose himself and then began again.

“I don’t know where they are. I have looked everywhere. I honestly do not have them. I don’t even know where I might have lost them.” He heard weakness and tremulousness in his voice. Heard himself defeated in the words. There was nothing left now.

Augere remained expressionless as if impassively removed from the situation.

Jason had not really thought this far ahead: just what would he actually say to Augere when—if—he ever did see him again. He knew only what he had wanted and needed to say.

In the recesses of his mind, in his imagination, Jason assumed his voice would be surprisingly calm and steady, even considering the strong emotions he was feeling, when and if he encountered Augere. Now it seemed he had said all he wanted to say. But it felt like more needed to be said. Things submerged, not so deeply, in his subconscious pleaded to be heard. The depth of his feelings, and the sincerity of the unspoken words in his mind at that moment came as a shock to him.

The words to express those feelings were unrehearsed, as yet unformed and unready to be spoken. What might have held those words back was not the fear of a continued existence with Augere, even if that had been an option. Some part of his mind had already accepted that in such a co-existence fear would always be present, a part of his daily life.

It wasn’t denial of his present circumstances that kept his words silent. He had been given alternatives and he had made a choice; true, one made under extreme duress. But he himself had made that decision to be permanently released from his job, a decision he still erroneously believed was totally his own. He was done. His resignation papers were in effect, with or without his signature. A new assistant had probably already been interviewed, or soon would be.

He had allowed himself to believe that once he uttered the words he had come to say, his conscience would be clear. He had come seeking nothing else. But then…after all he had just said…after all he had been through…was there to be nothing else? Just this cold finality and the forever parting of ways?

Jason’s perception of Augere’s coldly dispassionate tone, in asking about the keys, had triggered an emotional response that pushed past fear, self-preservation or common sense; past pride, and past the facts as he knew them. He had not intended to ask for his job back; he scarcely felt he had the right to do so. Just because he mourned the loss of that job and the lifestyle he had become so accustomed to—why would they would allow me to change my mind?

But in the next moment, it all came down to what truly mattered the most to him—which was being part of the vampire’s existence, for good or bad. It was what he wanted now, more than anything else he had ever wanted in his life. A decision as impulsively made as the decision to leave had been. But it was not just clearly the right choice for him: it was the only choice.

So, in just those few moments, the words he quickly considered and meant to say were:

“It was not my intention to stop working for you. That was not at all what I really wanted. As I explained, I only wanted to leave because I thought I was in danger of being killed for finding out the truth.” These words were woefully inadequate to express the true depth of all he was feeling, though they would have preserved his pride and integrity; words that could indicate he still meant to stand by his choice and accept the hand dealt to him if that was still to be.

Instead the words he impulsively uttered to Augere, much to his surprise and horror, though still with the full knowledge he meant them just as sincerely as the alternative he could have said, were these:

“Please… I would rather you kill me right here and now than force me to live with my decision to leave.”

Augere blinked twice then gazed at him intently for several moments. He moved several steps closer then, coming to within three feet of him, his face a stoic mask. Augere slowly turned his head, his gaze leisurely sweeping first one side of the room and then the other, taking in the sight of the few scattered patrons. “Right here?” he asked softly. A brief pause then as he turned his head to look at Jason again. “Right now?”

Jason numbly perceived but was barely able to grasp the hint of amusement then in the dark grey eyes.

“Yes.” Jason nodded. “Well…I guess you would have to take me out to an alley…or someplace else.” Jason’s reply was delivered with solemn sincerity.

Augere bit at his lower lip just briefly to keep from laughing as he lowered his gaze. When he glanced up to look at Jason again, his face was somberly composed.

He reached into the inner pocket of his long black velvet jacket and withdrew a set of keys attached to a thin strip of black leather. As he was removing one key from the ring, he asked “Do you need money?”

Money. What money…? Jason was unable to make a coherent reply. He was not quite able to process information accurately just now.

Augere handed him the key. Jason mutely accepted it. He was not at all sure what was happening.

Suddenly Augere leaned in toward him and pressed against his chest, his arms encircling Jason in a very quick and awkward embrace. Or rather, his velvet jacket did. All Jason could feel, to his stunned surprise, was the light weight of the fabric, as though the jacket held no contents. It startled him but he did not react. Augere withdrew quickly, just as Jason began to feel lightheaded and a little faint.

“You appear too distraught to travel. I recommend you wait until the day after tomorrow. I have some things to attend to here. I will see you in Boston on Monday.”

Augere turned away, and was then facing the door when he paused and looked back at Jason, who stood rooted to the spot, holding the key in his hand, barely having had a glance at it, too reluctant to take his eyes off Augere.

“And stay away from the Ursulines Convent. Is that understood?”

Jason took a few moments to respond. He shrugged one shoulder and then slowly nodded. In the next moment, Augere was gone. Jason never even saw him approach the door though his eyes lingered on him. Augere was standing there one moment and he had completely vanished the next. Simply gone.

Jason remained standing and staring at the now empty spot where Augere had stood. Finally, he shook his head as if trying to clear fog from his brain and then he sat down again at the bar. He picked up his glass with a shaky hand and finished the rest of his brandy in one gulp.

“Did you happen to notice,” Jason asked the approaching bartender, who had been well out of earshot until just now, “any of what just went on here?”

The bartender did not make eye contact as he stacked clean glasses under the bar. “Nope. And even if I did, I’ve lived here long enough—I’ve seen enough sh—stuff—to know that what happens in New Orleans, stays in New Orleans. Hereabouts, we’re just as likely to take up a drink and say ‘well, how ‘bout that,’ and go on with our business.” He paused then and gave Jason a quick glance. “I have absolutely no idea what might have just happened here, but”—he poured another shot of Napoleon Brandy and placed it in front of Jason—“this one is on the house.”

Chapter 23

Muriel Revelations

Jason emerged from within the dim light of the Maspero and stood on the corner of Chartres Street, blinking in the sunlight. The world around him looked pretty much as he had seen it just a short time ago. Nothing seemed to have dramatically changed at all. But clearly the person who had just exited the Maspero was quite different from the person who had entered. In just a few minutes his life had changed dramatically once again.

Walking in a daze, he arrived at his hotel with no clear recollection of the mechanics of how he had gotten there, but he was grateful as he walked into the lobby. The clock there said 3:00 p.m.. He felt incredibly tired suddenly and wanted nothing more than to not have to think about, or do, or feel anything, but just to lie down and rest, as if he had put off such a thing for far too long now and having no other purpose at present, wanted nothing in the world so much as sleep. On impulse he bought two 20-ounce sodas from a vending machine on his floor and had finished drinking one of them by the time he walked the short distance to his room. He opened the second soda and drank some of the contents before crawling into his bed, more exhausted than he could ever remember being in his life.

His last thought before he drifted off to sleep: Ten minutes. Or less. He just showed up, out of nowhere. How did he even find me? I probably saw him for no more than ten minutes, and once again my life has completely changed.

He slept deeply and peacefully for several hours.

In his dream, bells rang somewhere in the distance, incessantly; they seemed important somehow. But other things needed his attention. Something he was searching for; he could not stop for the bells right now. He was drawn to their sound but he began to feel a sense of panic. I have to keep looking! I can’t stop now! I have to do this. He wanted the bells to stop, to leave him alone. His task, which he could not define, was urgent but the bells kept pulling him away. He began to struggle toward wakefulness, away from the conflict in his dream, and began to realize the phone in his room was ringing. He stared at it for a few moments, not nearly awake yet. Who would be calling? Who knows where I am?

“Hello?” he asked in a tentative, sleepy voice.

“Jason? It’s James Genier. I hope I am not disturbing you?”

“No…” he replied hesitantly. It was such a surprise though. Why was Genier calling him? He felt groggy. Had he finally heard from Augere? Was he finally going to get to talk to him? Jason sat up, confused, disoriented, caught between sleep and wakefulness. He felt uneasy, a little nauseated, and he had a vague sense of panic. His head throbbed and he was not yet feeling rested.

“Jason…?”

“Uhmm…yeah…can you hold on a sec?”

Jason looked all around him. The room was dark; just barely a faint amount of light peeked in from outside through a narrow space in the heavy curtains. The bedside clock said 6:18. He switched on the lamp. It took him a few moments to realize he was in his hotel. He was slow and uncertain, staring and blinking, still dazed by the strange dream, now more real to him than his surroundings.

He took a long drink of the warm soda that sat opened on the bedside table. He sat blinking and trying to clear his head for a few more moments.

Then he jumped up suddenly and began searching through his pockets while scanning the bedside table, the bed, and the floor around him. Finding nothing, he searched among the pillows, the bed linens, then the floor again, and then under the bed, and then his pockets again. Nothing. There was nothing.

No key. No Augere. His mind became anguished as he slowly realized he must have dreamt the whole thing. It had seemed so real. How devastatingly cruel this was. The disappointment was crushing. I wanted it so badly I created it in my dream. He could hear Genier’s voice calling his name through the phone receiver. Genier…? Why was Genier calling him? Jason really did not want to know now. It could not possibly be anything he would want to hear. He wanted to sink back into the pillows and back into darkness.

He mechanically picked up the receiver again. “Yes,” he said in a dull voice. He felt numb. It was a huge effort just to speak.

“Jason?…Jason, are you okay?”

“I…just…” he sighed heavily, holding the receiver in one hand as he massaged his forehead and then rubbed his eyes with the other hand. He felt close to tears of despair as he was being pulled downward to some dark depth. When he opened his eyes again, he caught just the glint of something metallic in the carpet halfway across the room. He dropped the phone receiver to lunge for it and picked up a small metal object, staring at it in disbelief.

“Hello! Yes, Mr. Genier! I’m okay,” he said into the retrieved phone. “I was sleeping. I was just having a hard time waking up. My sanity has been challenged a lot lately and I feel like I have had a loose grip on reality at times.” He paused to examine the key again. “But it’s okay. I have hold of it now.” He gripped the key tightly in his free hand. Solid. Real. Augere’s personal key to the house in Boston.

“Oh…kay. Good,” Genier replied doubtfully. “I’m calling because I received an unusual phone call from Mr. Augere. He did return my call finally but I only got to speak to him about two hours ago. He caught me as I was leaving the office. He mentioned he had some business and accounting things he wanted me to take care of. And then…when I asked him if he had gotten my messages that you wanted to speak to him…he casually mentioned you were coming back to work on Monday. He said I needed to process your paperwork. Well, I was a little stunned, to say the least. And then he asked me if I would check on you; he told me where you were—when did you arrive in New Orleans? I had absolutely no idea you were here…”

“About a week ago.”

“A week! You have been here that long?…I told him I was free this evening. My wife has a social outing with her friends tonight so I suggested I could invite you out to dinner and he thought that might be a good idea; he said he thought you weren’t eating properly…I have to admit Jason—this is all rather unusual and unexpected…so I do hope you will join me for dinner—it seems I have a lot to catch up on. Please select wherever you would like to go.”

It really was true then. All of it. It was not just that he had the key. He nervously glanced at his pillow. Nope. I’m not lying there asleep. I really am awake and this is really happening. I am really going back.

“Yes, I would love to do that.” He hesitated for several moments, thinking. “Would it be possible—do you think—could we maybe go to Muriel’s—Jackson Square? Is that okay?”

“Yes, of course. An excellent choice. I’ll call for a table. What time shall we meet then?”

They arranged to meet in forty-five minutes. Jason had time to shower and change; he had to make do with a casual all black outfit and jacket he hoped would be somewhat suitable and presentable.

The restaurant was about a twelve-block walk from the hotel; he was ready quickly and then took his time, deciding for no particular reason to walk along Royal Street, still trying to clear his head. He paused briefly to look in various shop windows. As he lingered a few moments at various window displays, it came back to him: the creepy figure of the strange little girl. He began to search with more purpose as he strolled along, sure he would be able to find that shop again.

He felt light as air as he walked. It was such a pleasure and a relief to be able to turn his attention to something else in the world again. The ordeal with Augere had been consuming him, body and soul. He could breathe easier now. As if to prove it, he took in a deep breath.

He found what he thought was the shop where she was located: other objects in the window looked familiar to him; this had to be the place. But she wasn’t there. It seemed unlikely someone else would have come along and bought the dusty statue. He didn’t think he had just imagined it. But lately it was becoming difficult to sort out reality from…he didn’t want to think about that just now. He arrived at Muriel’s and was still a few minutes early. He lingered outside, watching the people passing by St. Louis Cathedral. For the first time in what seemed like ages, the world could pass by without his intense scrutiny. He touched the key held safe and securely in his pocket, just for reassurance.

Genier arrived, walking briskly toward him, wearing a grey suit and carrying a black zippered leather portfolio. He tried to clasp Jason warmly with his free hand, while he offered a sincere greeting, saying how very glad he was to see him again. Tears started to well in Jason’s eyes. It was so good to see Genier again too. And especially to be greeted and welcomed as if he were a much missed member of the family, home again at last.

Genier was greeted several times by different staff as they entered the restaurant. He was obviously known here. They were shown to a beautifully lavish private salon on the second floor. It was the séance room, the server explained to Jason. Genier must have pulled some strings to get this private space on short notice. A table and two chairs had been placed inside for them. As they took their seats, Genier explained they had needed a private place to talk.

Jason took in the surroundings, wishing now he had thought to bring his camera. Red was the predominate color: red velvet drapes divided the room decorated with full-sized faux pharaoh’s coffins; exposed brick walls alternated with red painted walls. Several large portraits of people from other eras hung everywhere along with musical instruments and other New Orleans mementos. Plush leather couches offered seating as well as sofas and chairs with a multitude of overstuffed pillows. Exotic lamps with different hued shades sat on tables or were suspended from the ceiling or walls. The overall rich, lush and chicly decadent look completely charmed Jason. He was glad he had chosen this place; a perfect setting.

They each ordered the shrimp remoulade and Pinot Grigio to start with; a basket with generous helpings of warm bread and servings of butter appeared. More shrimp in the form of an appetizer came soon after and Jason felt ravenous now. Where had his sudden appetite come from? He could have eaten several helpings. They ordered their entrees.

“Jason—how are you, really? You look as if you have had a very rough time.”

He nodded. “Doing better.”

“I’m sorry if this has been hard on you. I want you to know how saddened all of us were at your departure.” James sighed. “I feel I should say…we have our rules, and Mr. Augere has his. We do try to follow those, but we often bend, if not break them. It is our policy—and Mr. Augere too is especially adamant about this—that once things are ended, all contact must be severed as expeditiously as possible. We are not supposed to interfere in his personal business. And we are not supposed to let our personal feelings get in the way. This was especially hard on all of us though; we really do like you. And more importantly, you seem like a good fit for Mr. Augere.” He paused as he looked into Jason’s eyes. “I have much to ask you—well, first of all, I’m not at all sure how it came about that you were able to speak to him and that you are returning to work…” He paused, hoping Jason would fill in the details. Jason made no comment.

“But before we do go any further, I must be certain. There can be no ambiguity about this: you do know the truth about him—absolutely?”

Jason looked into his eyes but made no comment.

“I don’t mean to seem like I am overstating the point here, but…” James paused, “I need to hear you say it.”

“Vampire.” Jason nearly whispered the words, though just the two of them were present. Then he nodded slowly. He hadn’t meant for his anger to show, not now, in what was for him a joyous reclaiming of the life he desired, but it couldn’t be helped.

“And you knew…all of you knew…all along, and you weren’t going to tell me? Vampire?! You knew what kind of danger I was in, and you just let this happen? How long did all of you think you could get away with this?” He allowed more than a trace of bitterness to show, while managing with some difficulty to keep the rest of his anger suppressed.

Genier raised the palm of his right hand. “I can explain.”

Jason did not want to be angry with Genier, nor with any of them really. But the anger was there, newly awakened, and not to be put off. This had better be good.

“The whole assistant thing has been a work in progress for a long time. Originally, only Genier family members took on the role, and only very sporadically, as needed. And that was all a very long time ago. After some decades, it became less feasible, less convenient, for my family to perform that role.

“The family discussed ways this might be handled. It was decided we should be open and honest about it and tell prospective assistants the truth. Well…” He looked directly into Jason’s eyes. “…as you might imagine, that did not go well. People thought we were pulling some scam or hoax that could get them arrested; those who did believe us thought we must be insane, and wanted no part of it, especially if it was true. And some of those who did not believe it and thought we were charlatans of the worst sort wanted to get cut into ‘the deal, the con.’

“There were some believers…trusting souls perhaps… or maybe those who were just trying to be good sports about it, who went along until they very soon found out it was all quite true, and all too real for them. This created a lot of problems. Added to that was the fact that Mr. Augere was often quite ambivalent about not wanting ANY assistant and he would do things to sabotage our efforts…but I’m getting off the subject here.” Genier reflected for several moments before speaking again.

“Then one day he announced he had found an assistant. Someone he deemed suitable, and he chose not to tell this person anything about himself. We thought for certain this venture was doomed—a huge mistake—more of the same negative responses could be expected, perhaps just in a delayed fashion. But time passed and gradually this person did come to find out the truth. Yet, it still seemed to work out. And probably the arrangement would have lasted even longer, except…well, but that had nothing to do with Mr. Augere. So we, my distant relatives that is, looked at what had gone right, and decided we would try to duplicate that. Which brings us, more or less, up to the present day, though of course, modifications in the process have been made by each generation as needed.

“We found that finding the most suitable candidate to begin with was an important first step. And it seemed once people got to know Mr. Augere, and maybe even developed a kind of rapport with him over time, when they did find out the truth, as they invariably did, they were more likely to be able to deal with it in a positive way. Not one hundred percent of the time of course; some people still freaked out and wanted to leave. But, fewer than one might imagine.”

“That could have described me.” Jason nodded. “If I hadn’t left. If I had felt I would be able to stay.”

“And that is another thing I have to be certain of. Jason, are you sure about this? About wanting to return—”

Jason was already nodding.

James gave him a doubtful look. “You can take more time, if you need to think about—”

“I am absolutely sure this is what I want.” He met Genier’s direct gaze with his own.

“Because—go or stay—he can deal with that.” James paused. “It is the ambivalence, the ambiguity Mr. Augere cannot tolerate. If you were to change your mind, say perhaps after a few days or weeks —he could become–well, it would likely become very unpleasant. Your safety concerns us. If someone needs to leave he can understand and deal with that. Or once you decide to stay, that could be fine also; it is the uncertainty that creates problems, that he is not able, or will not—”

“I am sure.” Jason pronounced the words with finality.

He took a sip of his wine and then his face took on a thoughtful expression. “I hadn’t even thought to ask for my job back, though thinking about it now, I guess it had to have been in the back of my mind.”

“That wasn’t why you wanted to talk to him?”

Jason shook his head.

“I really need to hear how all this came about then. How did you happen to come to New Orleans, to start with?”

“I thought he might be here to look for a new assistant. I came here to try to find him.”

James just stared at him for several moments. “You thought you could just find him…? Or, you knew, somehow, where to look…?”

Jason shook his head. “I came here knowing it was going to be impossible to find him. But I had to try. I know it was crazy, but somehow, it did happen.” Jason shrugged.

“So…” Genier was still trying to understand. “He did finally call you then?”

“No.”

“Then…you were able to call him?”

“No.” Jason shook his head.

“But I thought…he said he spoke to you…wait, you don’t mean you actually saw him? That you found him?”

“Actually he found me.”

“Ah, I see. Yes that would be more likely. I’m still not understanding how this all came about. But then all of this is so unprecedented.” James shook his head. “I’m not sure what was said, what passed between you…”

Jason thought about what he had actually said to Augere. What stuck in his mind at the moment were words that now embarrassed him with their desperation. As if he had practically groveled and just about humiliated himself. He hadn’t meant to lose his pride completely and beg Augere to kill him…though what he was essentially asking for was his job back, but not knowing until he said the words how much he actually meant them. Those were the words he was not comfortable sharing just now with Genier.

“I don’t understand. How is it unprecedented?” he asked Genier.

“You have made history within the realm of assistants. Others have changed their minds after extended intervals and asked to come back. Some have had a change of mind or heart, perhaps. And he has always said no. Always.”

Jason was stunned. It couldn’t have been his desperate pleading that could have changed Augere’s mind. If anything he sensed that would probably have caused Augere to regard him with further disdain. Augere had seemed cold, angry, and dismissive on initial contact. He barely seemed to want to be in Jason’s presence for a second longer than he could help. But then why had he come to find me, never mind how he found me precisely? Jason tried to recall what words had been spoken between them.

He had been so taken with the sight of him, the surprise and joy of him appearing so unexpectedly, that he failed to take full notice of Augere’s responses and was just now doing so in retrospect.

“He didn’t ask you to try to talk me out of it, did he?” Jason asked in a sudden moment of paranoia.

“No. He did not.”

“But are you trying to talk me out of it?”

“Absolutely not. In fact, I want to say again, on behalf of all of us, how very glad we are you will return to us. I sincerely believe you are a good choice. We were very upset and devastated you felt you had to leave.”

“Thank you Mr. Genier. That is very kind of you.” Did that include Augere? Had he been devastated as well? Not when I saw him at the Maspero. He seemed angry; bitter.

Jason sipped more of his wine. “Does it just seem so incredible to you…? Well, I guess you must be so used to it by now… But I am still getting used to the whole idea of him…”

“He still manages to amaze me quite often. The sound of his voice, the very sight of him—sometimes it is still quite awesome to me. He is an extraordinary being.”

Jason nodded, enthralled to hear that James’ view mirrored his own, even after long acquaintance. But just how long? How far back…?

“Part of the difficulty for me was—is—that I never actually saw anything—never saw him do anything—well, except for that portal incident, that would make me believe any of it was true, even for a minute,” Jason began.

“But you do believe it?”

“I guess I have to.” He shrugged. “But it’s not like he has any fangs or anything—”

“He does have them. They retract.”

Jason stared openly at Genier. “You’ve seen them?”

Genier shook his head. “I asked him about that once. He said it was a good thing I don’t ever see them. When he gets–aroused, I guess might be the correct word—to that point, when the canines are engaged, for him there is no going back. He said by the time I saw them, it would already be too late. It would be the last thing I ever saw.”

Jason could only stare silently for several moments. He experienced a slight involuntary shudder. Then he lifted his glass and drained the last of his wine.

I cannot believe we are having this conversation. Or that I am still trying to convince myself it is all real.

“He is out in daylight. He has never asked for a coffin suite at any of the hotels…” Jason commented, only somewhat facetiously; his facial expression remained serious.

Genier laughed. “Well, he is claustrophobic. But I don’t think that’s the only reason.”

“He just doesn’t fit any of the mythology I know of,” Jason began, “but then, all I have to go by are books and movies; old folklore legends…how does he happen to be what he is? He certainly wasn’t born that way, was he? Someone—another vampire”—Jason’s eyes widened at the thought—“must have changed him, right?” He was brimming with questions now. “And what about”—he lowered his voice, even though no one was around to hear—“the bodies? I cannot believe he actually kills people every day, to take their—”

Genier was shaking his head. “There was a time, a distant time, when he would have done so regularly.” He sighed. “We have had to tell him that with modern forensics and cameras everywhere, he just can’t do that kind of thing anymore. These days he has to subsist mainly on animals in the wild. It is not ideal for him. Sometimes he has no choice. And he has chosen to mainly live in urban areas, which complicates things.”

“Animals in the wild? In Boston?” Jason asked.

Genier shrugged. “He told me he could deal with it. I guess we will see when the New England winter fully settles in.”

That gave Jason pause. We? Doesn’t he mean I? Winter was coming up quickly. Had he just set himself up to be in a house in an urban area with a hungry vampire? During the harsh New England winter? What was he thinking? But then—hadn’t Augere been managing there all along?

“Wait—he has been living in Boston for some time though. So he must be used to dealing with it by now.”

James gave him a dubious look. “His main residence has always been New Orleans, no matter what homes he has owned and lived in. The house in Boston is newly acquired.”

Jason was surprised. “New? Since when?”

“I believe he began searching for a suitable place after he made you the offer. I hope that is not a secret I should not tell. As I recall, it took a rather intense week to find something suitable.” James paused, his brow furrowed. “But somehow, he managed to find exactly what he needed, rather suddenly. It was expensive to begin with but then the renovations were staggeringly expensive too, and quite extensive as well. He personally pushed the workmen’s schedule to be able to complete it to his satisfaction on his time schedule.”

Jason was stunned. He could use some more wine suddenly but his glass was empty.

“So—are you saying—that when he made me the offer, he didn’t even live there? In Boston?”

Genier had a bemused expression. “You will come to understand Mr. Augere has a way of phrasing things not exactly the way we interpret them to be. He chooses his words most carefully. Most likely what he said to you was: ‘I am looking for an assistant to work for me in Boston,’ while not actually stating ‘I live in Boston.’”

Jason released a short nervous laugh.

“Prior to this he had mentioned to me he had the intention to live in Boston for a while. He had spent some time there in the past, intermittently. He likes quaint historic areas. And then there is the ocean and mountains and forests nearby. Boston is close to Montreal. And he told me he ‘needed a little winter.’ So, he made the decision. Mr. Augere will do what he wants, when he wants.”

This brought Jason back to the concern about Augere’s food source.

“Will I be—in any danger?”

James frowned. “I will be quite honest with you: with Mr. Augere, there is always the potential for danger. He doesn’t display it too often, but he has a very bad temper. He doesn’t usually take it out on any of us…” his voice trailed off then. “But he does have a nasty side. A very dark side actually.”

Was it time to back out of this? Before he got in too much deeper? The lure of Augere already held him; now the potential for danger had an adverse effect, acting like an accelerant that lured him closer to the flame instead of raising his caution.

Jason regarded him with a serious expression for several moments. He hadn’t expected Genier to speak so frankly. “Are you ever afraid of him?”

“Again I will be very honest with you. It is always in the back of my mind. Some level of fear is always there. He is very unpredictable. But I have known him for twenty-five years. I believe I know how far I can push him. I know him fairly well.” He gazed at Jason with a solemn expression. “Don’t ever do as you see me do, however. I know what he is capable of. You do not. It took me a long time just to adapt to his energy field. I hardly notice it much anymore, and I can tolerate it better now. But that alone can be dangerous.”

“Energy field…? Yes. He mentioned something…that night…about his energy drawing…those portal things. I have only just come to realize maybe he was causing some of the strange physical responses I had been having.”

“He told me you seem more susceptible to his energy than most people,” James said with a nod. “He has to be very careful and mindful around you. That is why he often keeps such physical distance— with travel etc. It will get better though.”

“So the dizziness—the lightheadedness—he causes that?”

James nodded. “He has a very strong energy field all around him. He can drop someone to the ground with it even from a distance. I believe he could kill someone that way if he intended to. He can manipulate and control the force of that energy to become stronger, or minimize it if he has to go undetected. Most of that energy comes from within himself but he is able to draw it from the environment and from other beings as well.”

Jason nodded in wonder. “A general weakness seemed to occur when I was near him. I didn’t understand what was happening to me. It was kind of embarrassing. I always tried to rationalize it somehow. And he causes this on purpose?”

“Not usually intentionally. Everyone has some level of energy field around them, I believe. But his is infinitely more powerful, and though he has control over how he uses it he cannot fully diminish the effects it has on us. That is just a part of what he is. He can drain energy from sources around him without even trying. That causes us to experience what we do. His energy could be toxic to us, in prolonged doses.”

“So—he needs to acquire energy? Does he exist on that? But then what about the blood?”

“He requires both. He has to have the blood of living beings. Once he begins to take the blood, he is unable to stop until he drains the victim to their death. The blood and energy work together…he also requires water, but he can go a very long time without any of these things. He is quite remarkable in many respects actually.”

Jason was looking at him in mild shock. It was one thing to try to imagine it all of it being real, but quite something else to have it all confirmed for him.

James noted Jason’s shocked expression.

“It is not as if you will actually witness him taking the blood. It is something that is very private to him.”

Jason nodded slowly. Once again, he could not believe they were having this discussion.

“So are there others like him? I guess there would have to be—” Jason found the thought both intriguing and frightening.

“He has told us there is one other like himself that he knows of for certain. And he has the belief he has encountered one other besides that.”

Jason didn’t quite know what to make of that. Three? That’s it?

“But how…did he come into existence? When and how did all this occur? When did it begin? And where?”

“I’m not trying to be evasive here, but it really is his story to tell. And he would tell you, in time, if you asked him. There is a lot more to learn.”

“You—your family—have known all about the Augeres though, about him and his family…?”

“He has no one else. There has always been just him, just one Augere. And yes my family has known him for a very long time. We are the closest he has to having a family.”

Jason still had trouble getting his mind around that. But now he recalled the conversation with Allen on the plane. “No member of the Genier family has ever met any of his family.” Jason was lost in thought for several moments.

“A lot of what most of us have been led to believe about such creatures turns out not to be true, “James began. “Most of it is just myth and superstition. But then some of it is true.”

A waiter came to refill their wine glasses. Jason asked if he would leave the bottle.

“I’m curious—when did you first suspect him, Jason, and how?”

Jason thought back to his beginnings with Augere. It was only months ago and yet so much seemed to have happened.

“I think it must have been the stillness, at first. The fact that I could be in the same room and not even see or notice him. Even a ghost has more presence.”

James nodded. “There’s that. He can be almost invisible in a sense, if he wants to be. He can control how we perceive his presence. Initially, he is careful not to say or do anything to reveal himself with new people. That is why he limits contact the way he does. It is always very difficult for him, for all of us really, until the truth is known.”

Jason thought of all the times Augere kept himself secluded, distant, the limited contact. Now it all made more sense. Augere was probably doing it for his benefit.

“It is tedious for him to have to hide his true nature all the time; to not be able to be himself,” James went on.

Jason nodded. He wouldn’t have realized that.

“It really took me a very long time to figure it all out,” Jason responded. “A number of small things and random details, I think, little occurrences that individually did not mean much. Collectively, all of it added up to a lot of suspicion. But—vampire?—no. Not that. Not from the few things I might have noticed. Even if I did think that, such things are not supposed to be real, so I would have pushed that idea away and looked for alternative explanation.”

James nodded. “So, then you had no real clue until the portal incident? That is kind of what we suspected. Although he thought you had figured it out earlier, and that you were struggling with it.”

It made Jason feel uncomfortable to think Augere and the others were monitoring his lack of awareness about Augere’s true nature. Again, he felt the unwanted sense of anger.

“No, not really until the Europe trip. There were things—almost one thing after another that seemed to occur then—but it still took an avalanche of all of the small details to crash down on me to make me start to believe it. If it hadn’t been for the portal thing…well, no, because by then, I already had too many suspicions. Still, I must have been one of the slowest people ever to realize what was really going on.”

“Actually, no. The average seems to be about six to eight months or so. So, you were pretty much on target in that respect.”

“So—he’s had—several—other assistants? That you know of?”

James nodded.

“And—they all just figured it out, eventually?”

James shrugged. “All but one actually.”

That intrigued Jason. How had the others fared, he wondered. He tried to recall what Allen had told him about the previous assistants—he hadn’t quite been able to grasp that information then. And he was very glad now, that he had gotten to Augere before he had been able to find a new assistant to replace him. A perverse bit of luck, he supposed.

Their entrees arrived and Jason had to slow himself down as he ate one of the best meals he had ever tasted. He poured more wine and savored every morsel of the Creole specialty he had ordered. Food had never tasted so good as it did in that moment.

“It is hard to imagine there could have been other assistants because…he just looks so young to me. I guess I will have to get over thinking of him that way… Maybe…does he change assistants frequently? I guess I am trying to gauge my longevity now.”

“Let’s see—there are three of them, no, four actually, who are still around.”

“You mean they survived and lived to…not…tell about it?” Again he vaguely recalled some of the discussion on the plane with Allen, but the details were hazy.

“Yes.” Genier laughed.

“It is always males? His assistants I mean?”

Genier frowned. “There have been a few females. Only one of them lasted any length of time.”

“Why is that?” Jason spooned some of the Creole pasta into his mouth, as hungry for the food as for the information.

“Women tend to see him as a tragic romantic figure I think, and they want to…to save him…I guess. And that is even before they know his true nature. We prefer that he doesn’t hire females. It just causes complications.”

Jason nodded. “It is not making me feel more comfortable that he might change assistants so quickly though.”

“The most recent one, just before you, worked with him for twenty-five years. And the one before that…has known him more than forty years.”

Jason dropped his fork onto his plate with a loud clatter.

“Just how old is he, really?” Jason asked then.

Genier cleared his throat and glanced away. When he looked at Jason again he said, “I think it would be best if he told you himself. Don’t ask him how old he is though—he will tell you he is twenty-three. Ask him what year he was born.”

Jason nodded. This really was so much to take in. And his mind kept jumping back to other details. “I still cannot believe he bought that house in Boston before I even accepted the job. He could have just waited and recruited someone in Boston. Well, I mean, I’m glad he didn’t, of course. But he probably would have had to have that person fly to New Orleans, for the screening etc., so maybe I was just more convenient since I was already there.”

“Oh, a little more than that I think.” James shook his head. “He had seen you before and he remembered you.”

Jason paused with a forkful of the creamy shrimp and tomato pasta halfway to his mouth. “Seen and—remembered— me…? Where?”

“You had been to New Orleans once before, correct?”

Jason had to lay his fork down. “A long time ago. On a high school trip. My class was there for two days.” He paused to reflect on that. “And I’m pretty sure I never met Mr. Augere then.”

“No. You didn’t. But he saw you, somewhere, while you were in New Orleans and he took note of you. Apparently he saw qualities in you he looks for in an assistant. You were too young then and your life was set on a different path. So that was the end of that.

“But then when you returned to New Orleans, he saw you again and he remembered you. And your circumstances had changed then.

“He learned you were in a transition in your life. He was able to find out you had lived in Boston. You went to school there and were apparently fond of the area. He took a chance a job offer there would be attractive to you. He invested in both you and the house.”

Jason was completely stunned to hear this. But how could Augere possibly have known all that? And he had almost turned Augere down. Of course he hadn’t known about any of this; he had been ready to casually dismiss him.

“You are probably wondering how he could have known all that.” Genier nodded. “He has an intuitive sense about things that is uncanny. Maybe it is part of his vampire ability; I don’t know but I think it could be. He said he has always ‘known’ things though, about other people and various situations, ever since he was a child. Perhaps this has been further enhanced by his vampire nature. His ability can apply to everyone, it seems, except himself. He is his own blind spot.”

“Do you think he can read our minds?”

“There have been times when I would have confidently bet money on it. He has always denied it, even when it seemed there could be no other explanation. But then there are times when he seems as genuinely surprised at things as the rest of us are.”

James reflected for a moment. “He is something of a medical intuitive—sometimes just by looking at people he can tell things about their health or problems they are having. He is often quite accurate too. He has a medical background—did you know?—”

Jason shook his head.

“—as well as having been in the military. His innate human qualities must have been quite useful. Of course, I’m sure all of those qualities are further enhanced by his vampire abilities; and all of his senses too…” James’ voice trailed off and he took a bite of jambalaya.

“I think…I may have heard something about that, but I can’t recall where…”

“I think I might have let it slip when you were ill. About the medical background. He was giving me a really hard time, saying he could not take care of you and that I needed to do something. When I reminded him he was quite capable of tending to you, since he had triaged wounded soldiers on the battlefield, he got really angry with me—”

Jason recalled the incident. “Yes! I think I might have witnessed that. It could have been when he threw the phone down after speaking rapidly in French…”

James nodded and laughed.

“There is so much I just don’t know.” And so much that I might never have had the chance to know. “All that time I spent with him and I never even realized—”

“He will tell you things. Probably not all of it. But he will share personal details with those with whom he has built up some trust.” James paused. “Things that will astound you.” He paused again. “Always try to be truthful with him. Sometimes he will ask a question he already knows the answer to as if to catch one of us in a lie. If he catches you in a small lie, he may suspect a bigger one. He never really trusts any of us. Even after all this time.”

Jason nodded. “I appreciate any advice you can give me. I feel like I am right back at the beginning.”

“You will do fine, Jason. Just remember the things I’ve said. And if you ever have occasion to call him by his first name, he will completely ignore you if you do not use the French pronunciation. He gets very upset when he loses things; material things matter to him all out of proportion, as I think you might have learned recently. I believe it is because he has learned to attach to things and not to people. There may be some obvious reasons for that.”

Dinner was over and coffee and dessert had been ordered. This has been not only one of the best meals of my life, it has also certainly been the most interesting dinner conversation I’m ever likely to have.

Jason took a bite of the decadently good crème brulee and paused. It was heavenly and now he was actually starting to get full.

“Is it not to your liking?” Genier asked with concern.

The same kind of expression Augere would use. Jason smiled. “It is very good actually; I am just finally feeling satisfied. I was starved coming in here and I ate too much.” He reflected for a few moments, letting another bite of the luscious crème brulee linger on his tongue.

“How does his house in New Orleans compare with the one in Boston?” Jason asked, suddenly curious about Augere’s other life.

“Well, I can’t say, since I have seen neither.”

“You’ve never been inside his house?”

“He won’t even tell us where he lives. He maintains a post office box address. I know he must have owned his house here for a very long time. It might not even be in his name. That is how closely he guards his privacy. It is his sanctuary and his safe place. I can’t blame him. What we don’t know, we can’t reveal or intrude upon. I don’t know how he manages taxes, assessments, repairs and maintenance—he insists he loathes those mundane details. But somehow he does it. But I understand the need for such secrecy. He has to be careful. People have tried to take advantage before.”

How exactly? Jason wondered. “It seems he has been open about the house in Boston—or am I wrong?”

“The house in Boston is considered ‘temporary’ even if he lives there for forty years. It is not his ‘real’ home to him.”

Jason shook his head. “I still find it hard to believe this secret has been kept—for how long? How is it even possible?”

“For many generations.” James nodded. He reflected for a few moments. “And by carefully selecting and limiting exactly who knows the truth.”

“But to be able to keep it secret from the world…I’m still finding that hard to believe.”

“Ours is a big, but tightly knit family. All of us grow up with a strong respect for our family’s integrity. And a desire to preserve it. As the children grow up they are protected from the truth and many adults remain unaware also. If someone elects to become part of the actual business, they must pass a probationary period where they are slowly exposed to and entrusted with the secret. The penalties for going against the family, and Augere, are severe. On occasion there will be the faulty character, or the reckless judgment; these are dealt with very harshly. We are protecting our own interests as well as Augere’s. We have no tolerance for those who cannot or will not adhere to this. It is one way we maintain the secret.

“The thing to remember is this: what happened to make him this way was not his fault. He manages with this condition the best he can. When we as a family entered into this agreement with him, we knew there would be big challenges. But we have big shoulders. My ancestors were up to the task and so am I and the present generation. We don’t judge or condemn him for what he is. He can be rather high maintenance at times. But he has had to bear so much of this alone. He really has no one, except us, to unburden himself to. I mean to do what it takes to protect that trust.”

“Although—he doesn’t really trust any of us.”

James nodded with a small smile.

“Yet he prefers to live among us, so he won’t be alone?”

“He would prefer to be let alone and sit in dark rooms all day, coming out when he absolutely has to so he can meet his basic needs. He has secluded himself for up to a decade at a time. Having an assistant was largely our idea. We slowly got him to accept it. It helps to keep him engaged, involved in the world, and lets us know what he is up to. He is not always happy with that.

“He doesn’t really enjoy being around us. Besides the trust issues he has said we make him feel uncomfortable most of the time. Our voices are too loud, for one thing, and he said it feels like we are always shouting at him.

“I think he really just wants to be able to be himself, and to be accepted for what he is. We recognize he is not all good but then he is not all bad either.” James paused and sipped his coffee with a thoughtful expression. “I find there is something very endearing about him. I hope you might find something of the same yourself, Jason. I once said to him: ‘I bet you were quite something, even before all this happened to you.’ And he seriously replied ‘Yes. I was.’” James laughed. “He can be quite charming at times. He endlessly surprises, amazes and confounds me.”

Jason smiled. “It sounds like you are very fond of him.”

“I am.” James nodded, with a downward glance. “Though he totally exasperates me often. He once hung around our office all day to ‘see what you do around here.’ He managed to break several pieces of expensive equipment, by playing with them, trying to see how they worked.” He shook his head. “It was a very expensive afternoon. Then at the end of the day he came and hugged me, nearly cracking some ribs, and thanked me for letting him feel what it was like ‘to be a normal person for a while.’ He has made me tear up sometimes, with some of the things he has said to me.” James had a faraway look for a moment. “He comes around and flirts with my assistant, until she becomes so flustered she is useless to get any work done.” He sighed. “And yes I really am very fond of him.” He looked up at Jason then. “And thank you for taking him off of my hands for a while.” He smiled and Jason laughed.

They were finishing their coffee.

“Well, now I guess it is time to get back to business. Now that you fully know and acknowledge the truth, we have to go over the new confidentiality agreement.”

Jason nodded. “Is it just like the one I signed before? Oh, and uhm, what about my resignation papers?”

“The one you already signed will remain in effect. This one is a little different. You can fax us the signed/rescinded resignation papers; I have your re-instatement papers with me.

“This agreement stipulates that you can tell no one the truth about him, or reveal any information that could lead others to learn the truth. Absolutely, no one: no friend, family, clergy, attorney, lover; no social media of any kind, can possess this information. We encourage you not to keep any kind of journal, online or in tangible, physical form. To do so could put yourself in extreme danger. Mr. Augere demands absolute loyalty. What you will be asked to sign is more of a psychological inducement that is intended to emphasize your commitment to this agreement; it is an acknowledgement that you understand what you have agreed to and that you accept the terms of your employment and post-employment. It specifically prohibits you or anyone acting on direction or cooperation from you from writing a book about him. He further prefers and requests that you possess no photographs of him. This agreement will stand in effect with the previous agreement with the further addendum that you understand and accept that we reserve the right to take whatever action we deem necessary against you, and that neither you nor your family, survivors, etc. may seek or claim any compensation for any actions taken against you. You are expected to be fully accountable for your own actions, or anyone acting on your behalf.” James looked up at Jason. “Any questions?”

Genier had suddenly become a coldly professional attorney. Well, that was expected. The subject at hand was clearly a very serious one and meant to be taken as such.

“Merely an academic one, because I can and will agree to it. But, just to be clear, what I am signing basically gives you, well, him, the right to kill me? Is that true?”

James inclined his head slightly. “Though it could never be enforced in a court of law, of course, yes, technically, that is correct. Mr. Augere has his own court, so to speak.”

“So, if I were to leave, say five or maybe ten years from now, all of these agreements would still be in effect?”

“Yes, of course. Until your death. If you betray him, at any time, from this day on, he will deal with you at his discretion. And anyone else who knows about him through, especially, but not limited to your personal actions, will share that fate.”

“So, stay or go, the risk is the same.”

“Basically, yes.”

Jason paused. Genier observed his thoughtfully somber expression.

“It is the same agreement every assistant has had to sign, once they have realized the truth, and subsequently left,” James added.

“Suppose—hypothetically, someone were to find out, inadvertently—then what?”

“Has that already happened?” A tone of alarm colored Genier’s voice.

“No. But, what if, in spite of my efforts, someone was able to figure it out? Through no fault of mine?”

“You would let us know about the situation immediately and discreetly. In the meantime you would do everything you could to convince the person they were wrong. That the idea is ridiculous and impossible. And make sure it never gets brought up again. We will take it from there. I know this is a very heavy conversation, but this must be taken very seriously, Jason. I should mention he has not had to enforce these sanctions on anyone in a very long time.”

Jason nodded. He stated he was ready to sign. Well, as ready as anyone would ever be.

“Normally, we require a witness. I will ask one of the staff I know here to merely witness the signatures and your identity.” Jason nodded. Genier summoned the waiter who delivered the message to the designated employee.

“I’m glad I had a chance to sit down and talk with you,” Jason stated. “It has been very helpful to learn all that you told me. I’m actually a little nervous about seeing him again. But I’m looking forward to getting back to Boston, back to work and, well, back to abnormal.”

Genier smiled and then his expression grew serious again. “Go slow with him. Don’t expect things to just fall into place like they were before. Give him some time. He might be very mistrustful and wary of you. Things will have to be carefully put back together between the two of you.”

Jason stared at him slightly open mouthed for several moments. Big enough sign for you, Jason? Redlyn’s phrasing ran through his head, an echo to Genier’s words.

Genier ordered two brandies for them. Then he removed several sheets of paper from his leather portfolio. “Oh, it appears my assistant has put copies of your resignation letter in with these—excellent. All you need to do then is write ‘rescinded,’ sign and date it.”

Jason smiled to himself as he noted Augere had already signed it, in fountain pen ink, with tomorrow’s date. As he got ready to sign, a bartender arrived with the brandies, and his notary public stamp. Damn! The Geniers do think of everything! he mused. He witnessed the signature, as Jason signed the rescinded resignation and then the confidentiality agreement. He did feel a slight foreboding, a chill he shrugged off. Come on, it’s not like you are signing a pact with the devil for your soul. It is all just so legal and formal, he thought. And yet, not.

Jason handed the forms to Genier. “I noticed Mr. Augere never did sign my resignation letter.”

Genier sighed. “Yes, I didn’t have a fountain pen available, and he refused to sign until he had one.”

Jason smiled to himself.

“I do have to inform you of this also,” Genier said, removing another form from his portfolio. “Some additional expenses were incurred from the Europe trip. He has allowed all of them as business expenses and we have agreed to absorb half of that cost as well: Allen and Nick’s airfare, hotel bills, rental car, miscellaneous expenses, totaling just under $8,000.”

Jason winced.

“He would not allow your airfare to Minnesota, $560, however, since that was your decision, and so he had that amount deducted from any monies owed to you.” He looked up from the document he was reading. “It is best not to try to fight him on things like that, Jason; you will never win. Trust me.”

“Pfft, fine, I don’t care, really, he has every right to do that,” Jason commented with a wave of his hand. He laughed. “I’m just glad to be going back to work.”

Genier reached into his portfolio again, and withdrew Jason’s keys to the house in Boston.

“Here are your keys,” James announced in a matter of fact tone.

“Oh! My keys…! But…I have…” He paused, totally surprised. Didn’t Augere know the Geniers had somehow gotten his keys? But he had to have known…either Allen or even Augere himself had to have removed those keys from his luggage. And then didn’t Genier know Augere had already provided him with his own personal key to the house?

“I didn’t know where I had misplaced them!” Jason responded after his confused pause.

“Allen picked them up in the hotel room in London and secured them as he was asked to do.” James shrugged.

So Augere had known. Now Jason’s mind replayed the scene at the Maspero. When Augere had asked “where are the keys to the house” it seemed he was only trying to ascertain whether Jason even knew the keys were missing. Or if he had any clue at all as to where the missing keys had gone…But that had to mean Augere wasn’t asking for the keys back….and…at that point he probably was about to invite me to come back…

Double facepalm. He had jumped to the wrong conclusion. Because of what Augere said and the way he phrased it. Jason could have spared himself some humiliation and apparent groveling. He wanted to burst out laughing suddenly. And yet everything had worked out all right even so. Misreading Augere’s intention had prompted him to say what he did, in total—but unnecessary—desperation. Because at that point, maybe Augere had already made his decision to let him come back. He gave Jason his own key then, as a gesture, knowing he didn’t have to. That gesture seemed even more significant now.

And then Augere had briefly tried to embrace me. I think maybe he was trying to be a little…nice…but it was kind of awkward and even a little clumsy for him. Jason was more touched now by his encounter with Augere than he had been during their actual meeting.

I think I did just find something quite endearing about Augere. Jason smiled to himself.

“Also Mr. Augere said he asked if you needed any money but indicated he didn’t get a coherent reply. He authorized me to provide you with some funds.” He handed Jason a white envelope from his portfolio. “Can you count it out, please, and then sign for it here so I can return the form to accounting?”

Jason finished counting out the stack of twenties and then looked up and smiled. “$560. How do you suppose he came up with that exact amount?”

James smiled and shrugged. “An unfathomable mystery, I’m afraid.”

James paid the bill and they got up to leave. As they were headed to the door James paused in the hallway just before the exit and mumbled a few words to himself. He looked up then and met Jason’s inquiring look.

“It’s an old superstition. The man who owned this building lost it gambling, in a card game I believe. The loss was devastating; his home had meant everything to him. He committed suicide and his spirit is felt to be here still. It is said that when people leave here, just before they cross the threshold, they might feel a tug on their arm or hand or clothing, from the former owner. It is thought he is reminding them to remember all they are grateful for, all they hold dear in their lives. And to keep the promise to yourself to hold onto and protect what is most precious to you. I don’t know if it is just some made up myth but I really like the sentiment. My father, not at all a sentimental man, would always pause here and do the same thing. And I always do so too.”

Jason nodded and then he took a moment and did the same. He had a lot to be grateful for, today especially. And one of the things he was grateful for was standing next to him. He promised himself he would always remember to do this on planned revisits to the Muriel.

“It was a wonderful dinner, in excellent company.” James announced.

“I can say exactly the same,” Jason replied.

“Don’t hesitate to call me—for anything, Jason. And once again welcome back.” He hugged Jason tightly for several moments. “Call me when you get to Boston.”

“I will. Thank you so much, Mr. Genier.”

James paused with a thoughtful expression before they parted. “As I said, he is quite an extraordinary being. I would relive every day I have spent knowing him all over again if I had the chance to do so. I envy your journey with him.”

Jason nodded and smiled.

RETURN TO ABNORMAL

Chapter 24

The Departure

Jason walked back to the hotel, sated with food and alcohol, yet feeling light and energetic. He would sleep better tonight than he had in a long while.

Once he arrived at his hotel he contacted the airline to change his flight. His first thought was to get a flight to Boston first thing in the morning, wanting just to get home, regardless of Augere’s suggestion that he delay travel. But then he thought, why not stay? Why not have a full, easy and carefree day in New Orleans, just enjoying every moment and end the trip on a fully positive note. He wouldn’t see Augere until Monday anyway. If he waited and left Saturday morning, he might still have the house to himself maybe until Sunday night at least. He arranged the flight, got an extra night at the hotel and enjoyed a deep and blissful sleep.

He viewed the city with a new sense of joy the next day. He had a full breakfast, and was still hungry enough for beignets by noon. He browsed shops and bought a few things, not having to be so careful with money now.

He paused to enjoy the energetic music of another newly discovered street band, The Smoking Time Jazz Club, charmed with the elaborate swing dance moves of some of the band members, lingering as long as he liked with others paused to watch the impromptu performance. He dropped a significant tip into the open guitar case before finally moving on, humming strains from one of the tunes “When I get low, I get high…”

By 5 p.m. he found himself near the more promising of the absinthe bars, the one in proximity to the Ursulines Convent. He wanted to go to the Convent now more than ever, more curious now that Augere had essentially forbidden him to do so. He wouldn’t even attempt to go. He was mindful of the fact that Augere was, and probably would still be, in the city for some time yet. It was definitely not a good idea to antagonize him now. Maybe he would get the story from him later. On a whim, not at all expecting to run into Augere, he decided to visit the absinthe bar again.

He ordered an Italian soda, having decided to go easy on the alcohol for now, and was disappointed not the see the girl bartender he had spoken to before. But the evening shift, her shift, was just coming on at 5:30; she remembered him.

“Hey, I think your friend was in here,” she said to Jason.

That info would have completely riveted him just twenty-four hours ago. But it still was enticing. “When—did you see him?” he asked, still eager to know any detail about Augere and his habits.

“Last night. Came in around ten or so. I said to him: ‘hey, someone was here looking for you.’ He said ‘I know.’ And I said ‘I’m going to need to see your ID, please.’” She laughed as she told this to Jason; a full throaty sexy laugh. “He got this angry frown on his face—kind of adorable—it was hard to keep from laughing—and he said ‘I have killed people for far less than this much aggravation.’ So I nodded with a serious expression and I said ‘Oh, I’m sure you have.’” She laughed again. Jason took a quick swallow of his beverage. “He showed me his ID; I didn’t charge him for the drink though. Like I said if he wasn’t so damn easy on the eyes, I’d run him outta here.”

Jason joined in her playful laughter.

“Does he have a girlfriend?” she asked. “Because, you know,” she paused and wrinkled her nose in a charming way, “I think he was actually flirting with me a little.”

Jason gave her an encouraging nod; he wanted to hear more.

“I told him: ‘I think you and I could have a really good time together.’ He looked up with a kind of smirk then and said ‘would that mean you would not ask for ID again?’ I gave him a big smile and shook my head and said: ‘No. It wouldn’t.’ Then he said something under his breath that I think might have been ‘fuck you,’ with just the hint of a smile and I said ‘that is exactly what I had in mind.’” She laughed again, a full mirthful sound this time, as she shook her head. She poured Jason a free shot of Savannah Tea, which he was curious enough to accept. “Then I said to him: ‘you know, there are other absinthe bars in town besides mine, where I’m sure you won’t get this kind of harassment.’ And he said: ‘That is absolutely correct. No one punishes me in the manner you do.’ ‘Oh, I know that’s right!’ I told him. Then he looked me directly in the eyes and said ‘I will give your suggestion some consideration.’” She said this with a solemn nod, as if trying to imitate him. “He has this ‘southern genteel’ way of talking and I kind of like that.” She shook her head and laughed again as she went to wait on another customer.

But was it really Augere though? In some ways, it did sound like it could be him. He would have to ask the name on the ID he gave. She came back to chat more.

“Can you remember the name…on the ID?”

“Oh…ah….damn! It was…French. Damn…! He always seems to distract me.” She shook her head. “Like I don’t actually check his birthdate, not since that first time, even though I’m looking right at it…”

“Well—can you remember what he was wearing?”

She nodded. “Black velvety jacket, the long kind, like an old frock coat.” She gave a nod to Jason’s dark attire as if to say she knew he would get the reference. It was the same thing Jason had seen Augere wearing at their Maspero reunion. “I was wrong about the piercings though…” She frowned. “But I swear—something about him made me think of ‘piercing.’ Maybe it was his eyes… But here I am, focusing on your friend, when”—she paused and held up the bottle of Savannah Tea; Jason nodded at another shot—“you are pretty much my type also.” She moved toward him briefly as she folded her arms and leaned on the bar. “It’s just that your friend is so…”

“I know.” Jason nodded. “He does tend to take the spotlight, always. My name is Jason, by the way.”

She shook his hand. “I’m Jade Doucet Jackson.” The two found other things to talk and laugh about for several moments although the topic soon returned briefly to Augere. Jason was enjoying her company and her good mood. It matched his own. And he liked her style.

In fact he was feeling in an exceptionally good mood. The weight of the world had lifted off of his shoulders.

When she went to wait on another customer he gathered up a newspaper someone had left behind laying near him on the bar. He had been so self-absorbed lately the events of the world had gone by without his notice. It was yesterday’s paper and he almost tossed it back when a short local article caught his eye. He read:

A local man was found wandering, incoherent, near Iberville and Royal, with his right arm raggedly severed as if it had been ripped from his body. He appeared to have suffered an attack but was not able to give any description of an assailant and died soon after at the hospital, suffering from shock due to massive blood loss. The victim is well known to local police, having an extensive criminal record, but his name is being withheld pending family notification.

Jason felt a sudden chill, one that passed quickly. It was just a coincidence, certainly. He had been in the same vicinity that night when a menacing man had terrorized him too. He shrugged off that incident now. He didn’t want to think about what might have happened to him considering the fate this person had suffered. He left the absinthe bar and continued roaming through the French Quarter, stopping at the French Market where he bought some inexpensive touristy trinkets, small leather goods, and an artistically rendered voodoo doll.

He had a shrimp po’boy for dinner after almost convincing himself to sample fried alligator—but couldn’t quite do it.

He finished up the day’s pleasures with bar hopping, forgoing alcohol mostly, to enjoy the varied music and the ambience of different establishments. He stopped at a club featuring Zydeco and spent some time enjoying the live music of Rosie Ledet and the Zydeco Playboys. He enjoyed watching the sexy dance moves of the various couples and promised himself he would make an effort to learn those dance steps; he loved the joyful energy of Cajun music.

He finally got back to his hotel by 11:30 p.m. and tried to watch TV. He had a late morning flight to catch but couldn’t seem to get to sleep. His thoughts now wandered back over the past several days.

He surmised Augere must have been close by, unnoticed, on at least several occasions during the past week. How else would he have known what he seemed to know? But why would he have done so? Why would he bother to be present but not let himself be seen? Jason began to doubt that. If he was around he had to have seen how miserable I was, from the beginning, and how I had only gotten worse as the week went by. Unless maybe he wanted to enjoy my misery.

But why, then, would he even approach me finally, when he was obviously so cold and unfriendly to me when he did show up? All of his questions only raised more questions. He turned off the bedside lamp and lowered the TV volume, intending to try to occupy his mind with a movie, but he soon drifted off to sleep.

He brought his luggage to the lobby to wait for the taxi to the airport the next morning as he prepared to check out. He had reclaimed New Orleans again as the place that held such joy for him, in contrast to a mere twenty-four hours ago when he would have left with heavy sadness and a sense of defeat to face a bleak future. This really was the outcome he had wanted all along. The one he hadn’t dared to think could happen. He was blissfully happy.

It was time to check out. He had used a credit card, but now he wanted to pay some of his bill with the cash Augere had provided him.

He explained to the desk clerk what he wished to do. The clerk pulled up his record. “You’re all set, sir,” he said and handed him a printed receipt.

“Yes, but I want to pay some of the bill in cash now instead of leaving it all on the card.”

The clerk looked puzzled. “Your card was not charged. You are already paid in full, sir. In cash.”

“What? No, I haven’t paid any of the bill yet.”

The clerk showed him the transaction on the receipt: $1,023.51, paid in full in cash, showing yesterday’s date, with a copy of the receipt provided to James Genier.

“This was paid against your room number, according to our records. Has there been some mistake, sir?”

“No, I guess not.” Jason smiled.

It really was good to be back.

Chapter 25

The Telephone Call

He entered the house through the main entrance, unsure of what he would find regarding his belongings. He had forgotten to ask Genier about that; it had not even come up in the conversation.

He hesitantly opened the door to his quarters. Everything was still here; everything just the way he had left it. He felt an almost tearful relief. Home.

He could call his family now to tell them. He could say he was home now and mean it, and no one would know how close he had come to losing all of it.

He called Zavi next and was almost grateful to get her voice mail. He suddenly felt shy about speaking to her. He told her he was home and how much he missed her and how sorry he was he hadn’t called sooner. Had it only been three weeks? It seemed like another lifetime. Which, in a sense, it was.

Then he walked around the house, to the kitchen; the common areas. When he got to the sumptuous library his emotions nearly overwhelmed him; he took in the grandeur and familiar comfort of his favorite room. He walked around touching the beautiful things, gazing at books that had become companions to him. The force of his emotions surprised him. He had thought never to see any of this again, and all of it was here, just waiting for his return. And soon, the most important thing in the house would return here also.

He went back into the kitchen and removed a container he had placed in the freezer during the summer: fresh strawberries and raspberries, sprinkled lightly with raw brown sugar crystals. He and Augere had picked these late one afternoon after one of their seaside excursions. Now, on a grey December afternoon, Jason savored a spoonful of the frozen berries, the incomparably sweet experience of the past preserved and now fully enjoyed in the present. He was truly home; he had been able to reclaim all of this, as his own, again.

He busied himself with mundane tasks: laundry; making out a grocery list, checking on mail that had arrived in his absence.

Then he came back to the library. His thoughts wandered to Augere, as he boldly sat in Augere’s chair behind the desk. He was feeling a little apprehensive now at the thought of seeing him again. It might be a little like starting over. There was a lot he did not know. He could bombard Augere with questions, but supposed that was not the way to go about it. Maybe he should take his cue from Augere. Genier seemed to think there would be some awkwardness between them; that their relationship would have to be rebuilt; that Augere would be distrustful of him. Jason doubted it. Augere hadn’t left him with that impression and Genier hadn’t seen how Augere had responded at the Maspero that day. No. Things would be fine. They would be closer now than ever.

He absently opened several of the drawers, curious to see what things Augere kept in them. Augere’s chair was positioned in such a way he had a clear view of the foyer beyond, and he kept a watchful eye in that direction as he surveyed the contents of the drawers as if fearful Augere would suddenly appear.

Some sheets of paper; a fountain pen, but not the preferred one. In the bottom of one of the drawers there was a faded leather-bound journal. Jason recognized it as one Augere often wrote in. Normally not given to prying, Jason was suddenly curious to have a look. It was a rare opportunity. He knew it would be terribly intrusive, but it was also very tempting. He knew this drawer was usually kept locked. He wanted to know more, wanted to know all about him… He was about to reach for the journal, maybe just pick it up and hold it, perhaps take just one quick look—

His personal phone, which sat on the desk in front of him, began ringing, startling him. He quickly closed the drawer of the desk, and stared at the phone for a moment.

“Hello?” he answered hesitantly.

“Hello? Is this Jason?”

“Yes.” It was a man’s voice; an English accent.

“Is this a secure line? Your private mobile? Are you at home or out in public?”

“Uhm…if this is about the keys, they have already been found.” The missing house keys had been reported to the hotel in London.

“Keys? No.”

“Isn’t that why you are calling?”

“I’m calling because we have mutual acquaintances, though we have not met. I used to work for your employer. I was his most recent assistant.”

“Yes…yes! I’ve heard mention of you.”

“He is not there, is he?”

Jason paused. “No. I don’t expect to see him until Monday.”

“You are in the house?”

Jason hesitated. “Yes.”

“Can you leave and go somewhere private? A good distance, several kilometers at least.”

“Well—I’m pretty sure I’m alone here; I haven’t seen him yet—and what is—”

“Not good enough, if you are not absolutely certain he is not in the house. Better, always, to take precautions. I would like to speak with you, and you may have questions for me. My contact number should be in your mobile now. Call that number and deliver the message: ‘Bob, your tea is ready.’ Make sure you are well away from him first. And then I will call you back. Today if you wish. Or another time if it is more convenient. But it should be soon. Take care.” And the caller hung up.

Jason sat for several minutes thinking about the strange and intriguing call. The most recent assistant…the one who had lasted twenty-five years. Yes, Jason was very curious about him. He would love a chance to speak with him. But why all the secrecy, the precautions? It made Jason uneasy. Maybe he should call today. Or not.

He had to go out to get groceries anyway. And he had access to the car. He decided he would do as requested and make the call.

A woman answered and he delivered the arranged message. It all seemed rather clandestine to him. She said to hang on a second. He heard noisy commotion in the background. Then a male voice answered and he delivered the same message again, feeling a little foolish now. Was this all some big put on? The man told him to hang up and wait by the phone. Jason sat in the car in the parking lot of a restaurant several miles from home. He waited for ten minutes; and then another ten. Finally he went into the restaurant and ordered coffee. He was having a second cup when his phone finally rang.

“Jason?”

“I did as you asked. And all of this precaution and secrecy is making me nervous.”

“It is necessary, I’m afraid. Technically speaking, he does not approve of this sort of thing.”

“Oh, okay, look, I’ve got to go then. I am just coming back and I can’t risk him getting angry at me. Or giving him an excuse to fire me.” He was about to hang up.

“Wait, don’t get worried now. There is no risk to you at all, I assure you. I’ve known him a very long time, and I know what I’m doing. I am the one who contacted you, so if there is any fault it is mine. And anyway it is all safe if you have done as I said. The most I would get is a verbal hand slap, and the ‘you know he doesn’t like this’ speech from the Geniers.”

Jason was intrigued to know more. But he was apprehensive.

“How did you get my number?”

“I had lunch with a friend, whose identity I am not at liberty to divulge. Somehow or other your number was on a slip of paper which happened to end up in my pocket.”

“Hmmm…but—why would you take a chance like this? If you know it isn’t allowed?”

“I was very fortunate to make the acquaintance of the assistant who came before me. He provided me with much support and information. I called you with the same thought in mind. I admit to a little curiosity about you, and not just a little concern. There are things the Geniers cannot tell you. And there are things HE won’t tell you. I just think maybe someone should.”

“I see. And would this be violating the confidentiality agreement in some way?”

“That only applies to those who are not privileged to know the truth. Unless he expressly forbids you to communicate in any way with former assistants—?”

“No. No one has ever said that…and why is it not allowed?”

“His insecurities I imagine. He doesn’t like his assistants discussing him. Comparing notes and sharing information. Conspiring against him. Figuring out ways to manipulate him…”

“Oh. I see. Well, I feel like I am doing something wrong just by talking to you. I am insecure myself right now. Like I said I can’t risk angering him or the Geniers.”

“Completely understood. I do have some things to tell you though, about recent events, things that will be of interest to you. As they were to me. I was asked by the Geniers to contact him, since James and myself are the two people who, arguably, have the most influence over him, if anyone could be said to. Though it does seem to be true, sometimes.”

“Hmmm. And you say you were in—frequent contact—with the assistant who came before you?”

“Yes. That would be Charles. He and I are both out of the game, so to speak, and though it is still not allowed, we communicate very often. Not openly and flagrantly. I’m not supposed to be overly chummy with the Geniers either, but there you are. I am certain Augere knows it, and he also knows there is not a lot he can do about it. He knows it will happen.”

“Still, I just—”

“I do understand and listen: I would not put you at risk. Actually I am more interested in keeping you safe, and I don’t even know you. Those of us who have experience with him have learned a few things along the way. Even though each of us forges our own relationship with him and he with us, I don’t see why you, or anyone, should have to reinvent the wheel, so to speak.

“The Geniers are somewhat neglectful of the need for new people, such as yourself, to gain the benefit of others’ past experience. It is not entirely their fault, speaking of the present generation, at least. There has not been a new assistant for more than twenty-five years, which coincides with the current generation’s involvement with him. So they have lost sight of how potentially dangerous the lack of information can be. They are used to him, in a sense. Someone new to all of this is definitely not used to anything remotely like him.”

“Yes…there is nothing remotely like this in any of my experience. I do have a lot of questions too…for one thing, I still don’t really know for sure who my boss is sometimes, him or the Geniers.”

“It is tricky, isn’t it? You always have to follow his orders. They supersede anything else. But in his ‘absence’ you have to follow theirs. And then there are the times he tells them to tell you what to do. That’s when it really gets fun.

“As for the Geniers, one thing to remember is that they are fiercely loyal to him and protective of him. They can be fire breathing dragons—velociraptors also come to mind—when they need to be and you may have as much to fear from them as from him.”

“Are you saying their friendliness is just an act?”

“Absolutely not. They are genuinely the nicest people I have ever encountered. I really do like them. They are unique in their devotion, loyalty and integrity and are completely sincere. Also they are grace under pressure. I’ve never seen a hint of anything other. He can be very trying to them, and they are well up to the challenges.

“But they take their cues from him. When you fall out of favor, no matter how much they may like you—where there was once a warm glow, you can expect to see permafrost. It’s not that they suddenly don’t care and never did, not at all; they may be very conflicted in their actions. But their first loyalty is to him.”

Jason thought he had gotten a hint of that. He guessed he had been about to be frozen out forever. And yet somehow things had turned around. But how and why, really?

“You said you had information about recent events.”

“Yes. And if you don’t mind I am curious to hear your version of events first.”

“Where should I begin?”

“Well, as much as you want to tell me, I guess. But we could start with why you decided to leave.”

Jason had a moment of serious doubt. Who was this person, really, calling from a distance? What was his true motive in calling now? Was this some perverse kind of test? Of his loyalty and his promise not to reveal anything about Augere? He could not rule out that possibility.

Jason released a heavy sigh. “I don’t know you. You could be anyone. And your motives could be highly suspect. I am not able or willing to share any information.”

“I had nearly forgotten—what it is like to live under that fear all the time. I was encouraged to call you, by the Geniers. Unofficially. Although it was in fact my idea. Very well. How about if I tell you what occurred when I called Augere? You can listen to what I have to say—it will be of interest to you, I am certain. And then you can decide how much trust to place and where.”

Jason was silent.

“So far I have two rather different versions of why you left. The Geniers believe the combination of seeing those portal things and learning the truth about Augere was just too much to take, and that was why you wanted out. That was totally understandable to them. When James was unable to reach Augere by phone for several days after you left he asked if I would call him and get a sense of how he was doing. I had some difficulty reaching him also, which is unusual. I knew all the details of what had occurred, as far as the Geniers were concerned, but I decided to act as if I knew nothing of those events when I spoke to Augere.”

Jason was curious now. “Mr. Genier gave you a number where you could reach him?”

“No. I have Augere’s private number.”

“Even though you don’t work for him anymore?”

“Yes. I can call him whenever, and he almost always takes my calls or gets back to me as soon as he can.”

“And do you ever see him?”

“Absolutely. I just saw him in fact when the two of you were in London. He had contacted me in advance and asked if I would be interested in meeting with him. So we arranged that.”

“Can I ask—what is your relationship like with him now? What are your feelings toward him? And what do you think of him?”

There was a long silence and then the stranger said:

“That crazy vampire bastard.” Then another longish pause.

“Even considering all the things he has done…I guess I would have to say, after all this time—I am still quite ridiculously fond of him.”

Jason laughed, and then he sighed. The stranger had spoken quite candidly; Jason had a sense maybe he could be trusted, and since he always trusted his own instincts, he decided to at least hear the rest of what he had to say.

“I guess if you can still say that, things cannot have been all bad. Okay, so—what were you saying? You tried to reach him by phone?”

“When he finally answered my call I asked how things were and I asked if it was snowing yet in Boston. And he replied he was ‘home.’ Which I took to mean he was in New Orleans, which I already knew. I asked him why he was there and he said he had things to do. I knew he had been there for the debriefing—”

“There was a debriefing?”

“Always, with a situation like this, yes. It is standard procedure: the principal players get together to discuss what went wrong and what went right. I guess he was in rare form at the debriefing.”

“How do you mean?”

“For one thing, James had let some new recruits sit in on the meeting, and Augere hates not being informed of things like that in advance; I guess there just wasn’t time. Not that he would have approved of it. One could see James’ point: they are the next generation of Geniers, and things like this don’t happen that often. It was a rare learning experience. But Augere despises that. Besides, he was already not in a good frame of mind to begin with.”

Jason felt responsible for that. Guilt rose up again. “What else did he say when you talked to him?”

“He stated ‘the assistant left.’ I told him I was sorry things had not worked out. I said I thought he had seemed a good match, but that, you know, sometimes these things just are not meant to be. I asked him what had happened. ‘There was trouble at Highgate,’ he said.

“‘You didn’t break in again?’ I asked him. ‘You didn’t get arrested this time?’ ‘No, he said. A very large portal. I did not see the full measure of it all at once. Several of the beings tried to get through.’”

“Several?” Jason exclaimed. “I only saw one.”

“Be glad of that. He said there were several, one behind the other.

“I asked how bad it was—‘Did the assistant get hurt?’ And he was indignant. “Of course not. I was there.’ I got a sense he was blaming himself for this happening.

“Mindful of the Geniers’ explanation, I said to him, ‘Well you really can’t blame the assistant for his fear then. Those portal things would be enough to cause anyone to back out.’ And he said, ‘No, that was not the reason.’

“I was surprised so I asked then why he thought you had left, and he replied ‘Can you not guess.’ I should mention at this point I have learned, over time, to record his conversations as verbatim as possible. What he actually says and what we think we hear him say can be quite different.

“I asked if he thought the assistant had suspected him for a while. There was a long silence. Finally I figured out what only someone who knows him well would realize: that he was nodding. I do not for the life of me understand why he thinks it is okay to nod instead of speak when he is on the phone, but I’ve seen it enough times to know it occurs. So I asked if he was nodding. And he said yes. ‘So, you think he suspected you for some time—but you think he was okay with it then?’ I asked. Silence again. I had to pull the information out of him. He was reluctant to talk about it. I said, ‘Well, did he start acting differently towards you?’ He replied there was a difference. I asked: was that before—or after—the portal thing happened? And he replied it was after.

“‘So what makes you think he left because of you then, and not because of the portal things?’ And his reply was ‘I asked him.’ ‘What did you ask him, exactly?’ I said. And he said, ‘You are not really afraid are you, ghost hunter?’”

“He did say that!” Jason gasped. “That is exactly what he said to me.”

“I knew it!” the stranger replied. “He has this idiosyncratic way of expressing himself, that comes across as sarcastic, when in fact he doesn’t mean to be.”

“I could hardly believe it. I thought he was mocking me. I was so afraid and it seemed he was just making fun of me because I was so badly shaken. I just wanted to run and get away from there, but I had no idea where I was really, and didn’t know if there were more of those things around. It was such a horrible feeling and all of it so unreal. Yet he seemed to be so completely fearless. And I had to stay right there with him, no matter what.”

“And did you make any reply to him?” the stranger asked. “When he made that comment?”

“I remember trying to sound like I was okay. To brush it off somehow. I made some flippant remark, said some line from a movie, as I recall, to express what I was feeling but more to diffuse the sense that he was just laughing at me. And then I remember I said we had to report all of this to the authorities as soon as possible.”

“Yes, he mentioned you making a casual remark, and he took that to mean you were not afraid. But I couldn’t believe that. So I pushed a little more. I said, ‘So—you think he just took that whole horrible portal episode in stride? Like it was nothing?’ And his casual reply was: ‘Yes; it is quite common to him. He studies these things.’”

“What? I can’t believe Mr. Augere thought that!”

“Nor could I. I said, ‘How do you mean he studies these things?’ And he said, ‘He studies the paranormal and the supernatural. Like on the television. He hunts things like this to learn about them. He has equipment he uses for such.’

“Well, you can imagine my surprise. I know he watches that TV show, Supernatural, and he really likes it though he will deny that. And he believes a lot of things on the program are real, because, I guess, in his world, some of those damned things are. I have had this discussion with him before and I have told him such and such do not really exist. He insists that is not entirely true.

“I was incredulous. I said, ‘So you really believe he has seen things like those portal beings before?’ And he replied, ‘It is as I said.’ Then I had to wonder, not knowing you—if you were the sort who might puff himself up and invent some crazy story like that to tell him, but I doubted it because he would see right through that and he would avoid such people. So I said, ‘You concluded he left because of what you are, and not because of the portal things.’ He was growing irritable then and said, ‘Have you not been listening?’ So I said as gently as I could, ‘I don’t know your assistant or anything about him. And all I know about paranormal stuff and such is what I see on those TV shows I watch. And even though you don’t watch the news or read the newspapers—I do. And I can tell you this with certainty: if anyone, anywhere, had ever seen anything like those portal things, if these things were common knowledge—it would be all over the BBC, CNN and even the other crazy news networks—and I am telling you—that just has not happened. I would be willing to bet your assistant never saw anything like those things in all of his experience, no matter what impression he gave you, and that he was, justifiably, terrified.’”

“You are absolutely right…have you ever seen those portal things?” Jason asked.

“Never. And though I do have curiosity about them, I am still not prepared to have an encounter with one. He says they are quite horrid.”

“So I said to him then, ‘You are still the only being who seems to be able to draw these things to those portals. Only your energy, so far, brings on this phenomenon. What I am trying to say is you may have concluded the assistant left because of learning what you are, but I just don’t believe that.’ And I let that sink in for a moment.

“So, Jason, are you willing to share your thoughts now, your true reasons for leaving?”

“It is true, I had started having some suspicions about him. But I just couldn’t believe it; even though everything seemed to be pointing in that direction. I guess I was totally resisting the idea. It was too bizarre and incredible. It couldn’t be real. But then after the incident at Highgate with the portal things…and then the way he reacted, almost nonchalant about the whole thing—it was just so surreal…I still didn’t want to believe it then but I just couldn’t deny any longer it must be true.”

“So—it is true then: you did leave because you figured out for certain what he was, and then the portal incident pushed you further over the edge, so to speak, not that I blame you, understand—and that was the reason?”

“No. That wasn’t the reason. Not at all. I didn’t want it to be true, for his sake; maybe for my sake too. Because I really liked him and I thought it would be terrible for him to have to exist like that. And that fact about him would change everything. The whole dynamic between us—would be completely altered by that knowledge. Nothing could ever be the same again. It was just so impossible to accept. But then I began to realize the enormity of the secret. One I was never supposed to know, apparently, or I reasoned they all would have told me in the first place. This incident wasn’t supposed to happen. It was nobody’s fault. But it meant I had stumbled on a huge secret they were intent on keeping—what he really is—and now that I had found out, they had no choice but to kill me. I reasoned this was the only way they had ever been able to keep such a huge secret safe from the world with any certainty—they had to kill anyone who found out. I had to get away. I didn’t want them to kill me.”

“And THAT was the real reason you left…! Hell’s horses! Everyone got it wrong. You, him, and the Geniers! I knew it! None of what I heard had seemed quite right. But Jason, the truth is: you DO have to find out the truth about him. That is the only way any of this can work. You can’t be of any real use or help to him until you know exactly what is going on. That knowledge is meant to come to you, but ideally in a gradual way and preferably at your own pace, once you’ve gotten to know him, so you can begin to slowly accept it. But—you have got to know eventually.”

“No one ever explained that to me!”

“Again—the Geniers are much too close to the subject, and too removed from the procedures. They are too used to the routine. They seem to have forgotten this process can be baffling to someone who is sorting it all out…and so…you felt you needed to get away from him—them—in order to save your life.”

“Yes. Exactly. I really believed—” Jason sighed. “I’m still not totally convinced otherwise—I thought they were all planning to have me killed.”

“But—then what prompted you to try to reach Augere after you left?”

“I believed he was in New Orleans to find a new assistant. I started to think maybe I was wrong and that I had misinterpreted things. And maybe he had also. I wanted to talk to him and explain the real reason I left. He had to know the truth—that it wasn’t because of what he was. I felt I needed to tell him that in person.”

“He would never seek out a new assistant so soon. He will wait years sometimes, between assistants. He can’t adapt to change all that quickly. And he likes to keep low the number of people who know about him at any one time, so he spreads out the time intervals between assistants.”

“I see.” He had gotten it all wrong. Part of his urgency, he now realized, was to get to Augere before he had found a replacement assistant. It had to have been in the back of my mind to get my job back, no matter what I told myself. But somehow it all worked in my favor. I was compelled to go to New Orleans as soon as possible.

“There was a bit more to the conversation.” The stranger interrupted his thoughts.

“Oh…yes—what else did he say?”

“I said to him, ‘Maybe you should find out for certain what the assistant’s reason was, what he was thinking exactly. Just to be absolutely clear about it. You could have Genier contact him perhaps. Or you could call him yourself, in Michigan.’ ‘Minnesota.’ he corrected me.

“‘Right. Minnesota. And just ask him outright. Then at least you will know beyond doubt what was going on in his mind and why he left.’

“‘He is not there.’

“‘Oh…is he in Boston then?’ I asked. Now I was confused.

“‘New Orleans.’

“‘What? Why is he there?”

“‘I can only guess.’

“‘Do you think maybe he is there to see you?’ I asked. There was silence again. ‘Why else would he be there?’ I asked him.

“‘Maybe he has a wooden stake he wants to deliver.’”

Jason’s nervous laugh was cut short by the other man’s silence.

“Actually, that did happen to him once.”

“What…?” Jason asked in shocked surprise.

“One of his former assistants drove a wooden stake through him.”

It was Jason’s turn to be silent for several long moments. “And somehow—obviously it didn’t kill him.”

“No. He is impervious to any harm. He cannot be destroyed. Not by any means.”

“But—a wooden stake…how was that even possible then?”

“Augere knew in advance what was being planned and he let him carry it out. Just to see if he would really do it, I suppose. And probably just so he could sit up afterwards and say ‘Well, this is awkward. Now what?’ Actually, it upset Augere quite a bit.”

Truly immortal, Jason thought. Impervious. To everything. Just when he thought this could not get more unbelievable… he couldn’t get his mind around it. But wasn’t that in the nature of being vampire? Being immortal? Jason was still shocked at the fresh realization of it.

“Does he consider himself—non-human? I mean, I guess he would be if he is one of the undead—”

“Oh, hell—you haven’t said that to him, have you?”

“Nooo—I, no, well, no, but I was wondering. I didn’t know…”

“Physically he is much less human than he seems. Mentally and emotionally—I still find it hard to say. There seems to be a lack of remorse; a detachment and difficulty with human emotions. I suppose that could come from having had to kill as much as he has. He definitely views himself differently than us. And, whatever you do, do not think of him, or refer to him, as one of the undead. I can remember most of that conversation in detail.”

“What did he say?”

“I can’t recall the exact context in which it came up, but he was quite upset at the idea that a vampire is viewed as undead. ‘I am not undead!’ he told me. ‘I would have to have died first would I not? I have never died. I am more alive than you are. I am permanently alive!’”

“I am—I’m very glad…that you told me this. I had no idea of course. All of this—it’s so new to me—there is so much to get used to—I’m sorry—you were telling me about one of his assistants trying to kill him…did things like that happen often?”

“He has had a few horrid assistants. They did not all start out that way of course. Some of them, over time, became antagonistic towards him.”

“The people he chose? In what way though?”

“Well, the whole assistant thing was the Genier’s idea from the beginning; they were able, over time, to sell him on it. Originally, only members of the Genier family were placed as his assistants. At some point, and I’m not sure why, it was decided to bring in random strangers, carefully selected of course.”

Jason didn’t let on that Genier had told him this. He still needed to hear some of it again. “But it seems so risky—to let a stranger into his life like that…”

“Yes, it does…but isn’t that the basis of most relationships? Strangers come into our lives. At least he had an active part in selecting people. He liked exercising his preferences and having some measure of control.”

“It just seems like such a chance to take; especially since everything must remain such a secret.”

“There was more emotional risk than anything else, it seemed to me. Some of the fools mocked him and laughed at his awkwardness with the modern age: the way he speaks; his unawareness of current things. I have sometimes wondered if he has not been emotionally scarred by some of those experiences.”

“I am surprised he would even tolerate that. And even if they were initially ignorant of his true nature and his circumstances, you don’t bite the hand of your employer.”

“Especially if that employer bites back!” The stranger laughed. “Sorry, I couldn’t resist.”

“Did he ever retaliate against them—what happened to the man who used the wooden stake…”

“He ended up in an insane asylum. Mostly for his own protection, was what I heard. The rest of them…just aren’t around anymore.”

“Has he had many assistants? I mean, over the past—I don’t know how long—?”

“A fairly significant number, yes. We assistants are still a rather small and unique group of individuals though. I believe the current arrangement started in more modern times—the 1920s, I believe. As things got more advanced technologically he seemed to need others, besides the ever busy Geniers, to be of assistance in some things. He is probably one of the last of the luddites; he will never be completely modernized. He has voluntarily chosen long gaps apart from society: he goes into a kind of social hibernation, barely seeing or being in contact, even with the Geniers, for a decade at a time. When he does reemerge you can imagine all of the new technological advances he then has to catch up with. And he loathes that. It is very hard on him. Mostly, he regards technology as an evil necessity. But more than that—he is just trying to cope as best he can with the modern world.

“Anyway, as I was saying: I told him it hardly seemed likely the assistant—you that is—would come all that way with evil intent…‘he must have had other reason to try to find you,’ I said.”

“‘He wishes to speak to me.’ he said.

“‘Aren’t you the least curious what he has to say?’

“There was a long silent pause then. ‘Are you shrugging?’ I had to ask him.

“‘No. And yes.’

“‘Well, I think you should talk to him. Find out what he has to say at least. I would really want to know— especially why he came to New Orleans to find you.’”

“And—when was this?” Jason asked. “What day—when did you have this conversation?”

“This Thursday past, as I recall. It would have been around 5:00 a.m. or so here in London—we think nothing of calling each other at all hours—so—it probably would have been Thursday midmorning in New Orleans I think.”

“And I saw him Thursday afternoon! It seemed like he just happened to find me…but now I think it must have been you. You must have convinced him, and then he was able to find me somehow and let me have the chance to talk to him!”

“I merely gave him an opportunity to view the situation from a new perspective. It appears you did all the rest. You can take full credit for that.”

“No—I believe this happened because you know him so well. You knew what to say to him. You really made this possible.”

The stranger laughed. “There may well come a day you will resent me for it!”

“And I don’t even know your name. I’m sorry I was so suspicious. But all of this has just been so—”

“I know. I do know, believe me. My name is Terrance Richmond. Glad to make your acquaintance, Jason.”

“And very glad to make yours too. I have to tell you, when I heard someone had lasted twenty-five years I was amazed. That made me start to think this arrangement was still possible. But—how did you get involved with him? Did you know the truth from the beginning? Or when—how—did you find out the truth about him? I really would like to know.”

“Ah, yes. The beginning. I understand there is quite an elaborate set of criteria now. Back in my day, some bloke would nab you coming out of a pub, late at night: ‘Fancy a job as a live in assistant? Nice perks, clean work, good wages?’ Right, okay, sure. ‘Uh…vampire—bother you?’ No, not at all. Step up from what I’m used to. ‘Right, then. Start in the morn.’” Terrance’s mirthful laugh was deep and hearty. “Bit of an exaggeration, but not much,” he added as Jason joined in the laughter.

Terrance’s tone became serious. “He had bought a new house in London. Apparently he had been living in England a long time, but I knew nothing about that when I met him. I was just twenty-one, right out of university. We had been living in a rented flat, which he hated. He wanted to renovate the new house, but a builders strike was on that was lasting a long time. I had only just started working with him then and I had been his assistant for only about seven months when he decided to move house while the work he wanted completed was finally being done. He chose a hotel outside of London, near Hampton Court. It was a fair distance from the city, I do recall that; it was somewhat wild and isolated back then. At the time I could not understand why he had chosen to move us out there.

“I felt very unsettled working for him. It was kind of rocky at first. He was such a stranger. Someone you could not get to know. Mysterious and remote; withdrawn and emotionally distant. I supposed that was okay, up to a point. But I often wondered: what did he want with me, really? I had a lot of idle time; the money seemed too good to be true. I remember I didn’t feel well most of the time, mentally or physically. My nerves were bad; I’d jump at the slightest thing. And that was new for me. I was always expecting something bad, like a dark cloud was always hanging over me. I had every reason not to feel that way, yet I did, and I kept wondering what was wrong with me. Why couldn’t I just accept my good fortune and enjoy it? I kept having bad dreams; dark imaginings. I didn’t see him very much, but when I did he was pleasant enough. My personal discomfort seemed without reason.

“The hotel was in the countryside, as I said, and quite peaceful, and so I began to relax finally. We had private rooms, but there were adjoining doors, always kept locked. Ours were the only two rooms that faced an enclosed courtyard. The hotel was quite near a wild, wooded area. High hedges were all around on three sides of this courtyard. Spacious lawns and garden areas took up most of the inner space and a large patio terrace completed the enclosure. This terrace was separated from the hotel restaurant by glass doors that spanned the entire length of the patio. I remember all of it distinctly.

“Late one night—I remember there was a bright full moon that night—I was awakened by strange noises coming from outside. Loud banging and thumping sounds; it was terrible. I looked out my second floor window over the courtyard; it was dark, shadowy, the only illumination being the moonlight, and at first I could see nothing out of the ordinary. Then I noticed a large creature running about. A deer must have come in through the hedge and seemed unable to find its way back out. In panic and fear it must have kept running at the glass doors and injuring itself. Even in the scant light I could see large smears, which must have been blood, on the glass. I felt horrible for the poor creature and was about to call to the desk to see if anything could be done for it.

“Suddenly I saw a figure moving incredibly swift. It had hold of the deer a second later and with seemingly no effort, the deer was being held fast.

“No doubt he had heard the sounds as well. Or more likely he was already prowling the area. I surmised all of this later.

“There was moonlight enough to make out the two figures and I could scarcely believe what I was seeing: the shape of a man who had hold of the deer now.

He did not take the deer to the ground and then kneel to it—rather he lifted the large struggling animal up off of the ground and brought it to his mouth and stood there holding it as if it took no effort at all. His head was bent in towards the deer’s neck and I watched in disbelief and horror as the deer’s struggling body began to go limp. This all occurred as he faced the direction of my window, where I stood watching from the shadows. I could not clearly see his face, but somehow I knew it was him. Then I realized with greater horror he was looking exactly in my direction—he could see me! I had thought myself well hidden, but I felt his eyes upon me. The whole time he held the deer to him, and the short while it took for the deer to become lifeless, he had been looking at me. I was certain of it and I began to feel ill.

“Fear crept through my body but I could not turn away. He let the lifeless carcass drop to the ground and continued to gaze at me where I stood, frozen in horror. There—in that moment—all my questions and suspicions were answered. I was having a bad dream except I was fully awake. No doubt left to hide behind then.” Terrance paused.

“That seems pretty traumatic…and certainly there was nothing gradual about it. So had you suspected…? Was it all just a total shock? And what did you do then?” Jason asked, his voice eager. Terrance’s experience rivaled his own.

“I watched as he dragged the dead creature out through the hedge. And it seemed only seconds then, not even minutes that he was knocking at my door. I felt he must have gone completely mad. I did not yet accept ‘vampire,’ though the word did hover in my mind. I preferred to think him insane. I did not want to open the door—he was able to come in anyway. I wanted to get away from him. You can imagine how intense my fear was. He said we needed to talk now, and I assured him we did not.

“I was afraid to look at him or to talk to him. It was just blind fear. He prevented me from leaving the room. For hours we just sat there, with him quietly watching me. What could I have said, if I had spoken to him? Daylight came and still we sat there. I remember with the light of day, I finally stole a glance at him: he still seemed so—relatively normal. Yet by then I was thinking what he was—what he truly must be. It all seemed too incredible.

“Quite pale, yes, unusually so perhaps, but not some monster; not some mythological thing come to life. It was a struggle to reconcile the image of this exceptionally handsome young man, this languid and quiet, softly spoken, articulate and intelligent being with the sad and extraordinary eyes—with all I had witnessed. Every now and then he spoke to me. He asked if I needed anything. I do remember him saying: ‘Everything will be all right.’ I just sat there, mute. Finally, fear gave in to exhaustion and I slept as he apparently watched over me.

“When I finally woke up—and I really did not want to—he had ordered food brought to the room. He talked to me; I can’t recall all that he said. Things to keep me calm, I guess, just words of comfort perhaps, in that soft smooth voice. I thought maybe I was losing my mind and that he could be the manifestation of that. I was so traumatized. It was still so hard to reconcile those images of the night before with the person sitting near me. Only someone who has been through something like this could possibly understand I guess.” Terrance paused into silence again. Jason wasn’t sure how to respond.

“Do you want to hear more?” Terrance asked hesitantly.

“Yes, I would. If you are willing to tell it.”

“Yes.” Terrance sighed. “Except for the Geniers and Charles, over the years I have not had a single other person that I have been able to be comfortable enough with to share any of this. Not that we are allowed to discuss him with anyone except those privileged to know the truth.

“I was hungry. I ate the toast and orange marmalade, my favorite, and took tea as if it was an ordinary Sunday morning and I was not sitting at the doorstep of madness. He talked to me. It seemed very important to him that I understood he had not brought the deer into the enclosure: he said he would not toy with or torture a creature in that way. He explained the deer was badly injured and he sought to end its suffering. He offered no other comments about himself, nor any other explanations; no reference to what he was. Nothing. And that was that.

“I was emotionally numb for quite a while afterwards. I tended to avoid people, as if I was somehow contagious with something. I walked around mechanically doing all of the things I normally would do, but it seemed a week or more before I could utter words to another person.

“As strange as this may seem, it did not occur to me to leave. Had I been able to get away that first night, I would have done so. But—you probably already know this: there is that powerful hold he seems to have over us.

“It is strange how so much can change so very quickly, and yet somehow still be the same. And so we just went on as before. Eventually, of course, all the words were spoken that needed to be said. I learned all about him.”

“Would you say now that you have had regrets? Has it been more bad than good?”

“Hmmm…it is strange how one’s perceptions, one’s concept of good and bad becomes altered. It is still, after all this time, difficult to answer your question. It is just not so simple. I don’t know if the scales can be said to balance. Many times it has been a wondrous and rewarding experience, taking place within a very dark and frightening context. I am very glad to have made his acquaintance. And I am very glad to have survived and gotten out alive.”

Jason found the words to be very sobering. From where he was now, it was impossible to project into the future, what his own words might be someday to someone else in this situation.

“Did it take long to get over your fear of him?”

“Oh, any day now I expect.” Terrance replied with a hint of amusement in his voice. “Once you know what he is capable of, the fear never completely leaves you,” he stated with more seriousness.

“You—are still afraid of him? But I thought you said you were very fond—”

“And I am. He is still a big part of my life. It is almost as if he looks after us. We are not as wealthy as the Geniers, of course. But my wife and I, our twin boys, we want for nothing. Our home and cars are paid for. We often take very nice holidays. He will often pick up the tab, though I have asked him not to. We wanted to take the boys to Disney World and found when we got there he had already paid our expenses. Still—he has done some very terrible things…”

I hope I never have to find out what those things are…

“I know—I’ve kept you on the phone a very long time—but please—what advice would you give me—”

“Ah—it is hard to know where to begin…pay attention to his eyes, I would say. That is very important. As I recall his natural eye color is a kind of soft grey, beautiful in a pale creepy kind of way. When his eyes are very dark grey, that is when he is at his most dangerous. Try to avoid him then. It is not a hard and fast rule—he is dangerous all the time, but then especially.”

“But it seems his eyes are often that intense violet blue color.”

“Yes. When his eyes are, at least to me, at their most strikingly beautiful, with that vibrant almost gem-like violet hue—that is when he has just killed. He can be at his most mellow then. He is probably at his safest and the most pleasant to be around at that time. Try not to stare at his eyes now that I’ve told you. He will be very quick to figure out you know about them.”

“But in the course of the day—assuming I even see him that often, would his eyes change color several times? How am I supposed to keep up with that?”

“No, not so quick as that! If he has fed well, the effect will last days, a week or more, even. That is how he is able to travel distances, confined on a train or a ship. Or even on a plane these days. You don’t want to be stuck on the tarmac for several hours with cranky people, crying infants, and a hungry vampire.” Terrance laughed.

Jason laughed weakly. That was something he would not have thought of.

“Is it a problem for him—to get what he needs?”

“There just had to be more of a downside to all of this, right? None of us are quite sure why he does it, but sometimes he pushes himself to the limit: he goes too long without feeding, or he doesn’t take enough. I have even refused to travel with him then. But I think that might be a topic for another time, I’m afraid.”

“Yes—I know I’ve kept you too long on the phone—but I just had to hear more. I do appreciate this, Terrance. Can we talk again sometime, do you think?”

“Yes, of course. As long as we observe the precautions it should be fine. Never call me on the phone he has given you to use. Those calls are monitored. Always call me on your personal mobile. If you have problems with him, it is best to contact Genier. But if you can’t reach him, you can always call me. My personal opinion: I think it is good you came back sooner. Take care, Jason.”

“Same to you, Terrance. And thanks again.”

Jason remained in the restaurant thinking over all of this new information. Vampire 101, the crash course. There was a lot to absorb. He gazed at an empty plate in front of him. Apparently, as some remnants attested, he had ordered and eaten a BLT, but had no recollection of it.

He really liked Terrance…what did he mean it was good he had come back— sooner…? He had felt very comfortable talking with him. He had an ally now.

He headed home, intending to relax and watch TV. He tried to concentrate on a program, or at least to give himself over to the mindlessness of it, but thoughts of seeing Augere again soon intruded. He decided to take a long hot shower, and then gratefully climbed into bed.

My heavenly comfortable bed—I nearly lost you but now we can be together again at last. He laughed as he plumped the pillows and rumpled the freshly laundered covers until all was the way he liked it. Once he was comfortably settled he sank peacefully into a deep and welcome slumber.

Chapter 26

Into the Realm

He found himself in an elegantly appointed office which contained dark wood furniture, thick plush carpeting. The décor was mainly rich earth tones; discreet recessed lighting produced a soft subdued glow and created a quiet refined ambience. A number of people, perhaps an even dozen, were gathered and standing around, talking quietly amongst themselves. It seemed to Jason he knew these people. They were Geniers, or maybe affiliated with them in some way. He walked around, admiring the taste of the room, taking in the details of a print of a famous painting on one wall. A moment later he was seated on a red leather sofa. The fleeting image from a well-known movie came to his mind, but the thought of the title was quickly gone before he could name it. As he tried to recall the film, he glanced around at the others. He seemed casually dressed compared to them. They all wore formal attire; he stood out among them and he felt a little self-conscious. As if he had arrived not knowing how to dress for the occasion. He had been left out of the details. But still, he relaxed and began to feel at ease. He belonged here. There was an undercurrent of anticipation. They were all waiting for something. Suddenly there was a buzz of excitement, the low murmuring becoming louder as all eyes turned toward the doorway. And then there was total silence.

Jason looked to see what the commotion was. Augere! He stood paused in the doorway, his gaze slowly sweeping the room. He was sublimely elegant in a slim fitted dark suit, a silky white shirt, a red satiny tie. He stood there, silent. Then his gaze fell upon Jason.

Jason felt Augere’s full attention upon him now, and he basked in it. He had been selected to be here. Though he normally hated being the center of attention, secretly this was a wonderful feeling. As Augere walked past all the others toward him, everyone averted their eyes. Then they were all facing Jason, watching, looking in his direction but not actually looking at him. It seemed they were all of one mind, as if they had moved in unison.

Jason looked up as Augere was suddenly standing over him. Something was wrong with him… He had changed. The youthful innocent expression was gone. Augere’s eyes were horribly red and his expression was cruel, menacing.

His gaze was steadily fixed on Jason but it was as if he did not know him.

Before Jason could move or think to do so, Augere’s cold cheek was pressed against his neck. Augere’s soft silky hair was falling into Jason’s eyes. He tried to push Augere away but he had no strength at all in his arms. He was pinned, helpless, as Augere’s spiked canines tore sharply into his neck. He couldn’t scream. It was so horrible! So shocking… He could just see over Augere’s shoulder now. All of them—just standing, mutely watching! They had to see the pain and terror in his eyes! Why weren’t they trying to help him? Why didn’t they stop this? All of their faces were impassive. They looked on and did nothing.

Jason awoke abruptly and quickly sat up in bed. He gazed wildly around the room as he felt his neck and held his arm up to fend off his attacker. When he turned on the beside lamp he saw no one there. No Augere. No pain, no blood, no horrible gash. Still, he felt confused for a while, trying to separate himself from the vivid dream. He was cold and shaking. The experience had felt so incredibly real. It was a while before he was finally able to fall back to sleep with a small light left on.

He slept in the next morning. It was Sunday and he had no plans for the day. As he sat drinking a cup of coffee in the kitchen later, he mulled over his dream. You’ve had a lot going on; you’re over tired. The greasy food at the restaurant yesterday probably didn’t help. It was just a bad dream.

But it was an effort to push the thoughts of the nightmare from his mind. The message he took from it was:

The Geniers, and everyone connected with them, were there for Augere only, and always for him, to see to it the vampire got whatever he wanted.

And now I need to be mentally prepared to see him again.

He didn’t know why he was feeling so restless, so apprehensive and nervous about this. He had just had a bad dream, that was all. It was going to be fine. Why wouldn’t it be? I just need to be confident, friendly, open. I just need to be myself. It will be okay. Things will be like they were before.

He called Zavi, hoping to be able to see her. Maybe they could go out to a movie. He had to leave another message on her voicemail. He ended up driving to the mall on the north shore and browsing in the stores. Holiday decorations were everywhere and once again he realized how little attention he had been able to pay to the upcoming festivities. He ended up going to a movie alone, a fairly decent comedy, and arrived home after 10:00 p.m.. As soon as he let himself in the door, he knew, somehow Augere had returned. It was more a feeling than anything else. He decided to make it an early night, and was soon sleeping, peacefully.

He awoke early on Monday. There had been no set time to meet, so he had assumed, he hoped, it would be at 11:00. He was nervous still and tried to compose himself. He was finding it harder than he had thought it would be.

He had paid so much attention to every detail about Augere, right from the beginning, to the point of nearly embarrassing himself. Okay, well, yes actually embarrassing myself, he admitted, on several occasions. That would all be as nothing, compared to the interest Augere held for him now that he knew the truth. Jason had seen him so briefly in New Orleans, and that contact had been so fraught with emotion he could only take in a few details. And very strange ones at that. Jason was afraid of gaping at him now, staring to the point of rudeness. But how could he help it?

By mentally preparing myself, he thought. By picturing him in my mind first. Concentrating on the image of him. He attempted to recreate that image of him once again, as he had done in the bar in New Orleans. Picturing how he looked and how he moved; his mannerisms.

Jason had met a favorite well known celebrity once, and had had to do the same thing. He hadn’t wanted to appear flustered or to embarrass himself; not be stammering and awkward like some teen girl unexpectedly finding herself in the presence of her latest crush. Now he pictured Augere’s graceful stride as he would be entering the library where Jason would be standing, waiting for him. He could see the perfect features of the almost boyish face now, and that intense gaze from those intense, extraordinary eyes. He really is, after all, Jason thought, just a young guy. Not so different from myself. Well, except for the vampire thing. And that magnetic aura that can drain my energy and make me feel dizzy and lightheaded when I am too close to him. It was almost a relief to know now the physical sensation of energy draining from him wasn’t just his imagination, or some as yet undiagnosed illness, but the effect of Augere’s mere presence… And these thoughts aren’t exactly helping me to stay calm and casual.

At a few minutes to eleven, Jason started walking across the large foyer toward the library. He was halfway there when he was startled by the sound of Augere’s door opening and the sight of Augere emerging and walking toward him.

His expression was inscrutable as he gazed steadily upon Jason’s face for several moments.

In spite of all of Jason’s efforts to ready himself, he found he still had not been able to prepare for the sudden sight of Augere again. No amount of imagining had been able to capture the actual presence of him, that presence which now claimed Jason’s breath and held it. For a moment, Augere was the world entire, as well as the embodiment of everything Jason could ever want from it. The feeling caused Jason embarrassment as well as exhilaration.

The pale skin was fairly luminous. He was even more lithe and graceful than Jason could picture him. Casually dressed in black which made him look taller than his six feet and even more slim. His face was suggestive of youthful innocence. Locks of his dark hair were nearly falling into his eyes, eyes which were steely grey now

Jason took in all these details as Augere got ever closer. He seemed achingly beautiful in that moment, as stunning as an exquisite work of art suddenly come to life before his eyes. It was not as one might appraise another, with thoughts of love or lust; this was more profound and intangible; at the very least it was an acknowledgement of a beauty and a perfection one knows one might experience only once in a lifetime if ever. Jason was, momentarily, and to his chagrin, gaping, enraptured by the intensity of the experience. It was vaguely annoying he had so little control over his emotions and his reactions that Augere’s mere presence could cause him to become so enthralled. He suddenly felt like a stranger to himself.

Augere paused a few feet from Jason and gestured toward the library without a word.

Jason forced his unsteady legs to obey and walked toward the library with Augere now walking beside him on his right. A step later, Augere was suddenly on Jason’s left. It startled Jason for a moment into thinking there were two of him. Okay, he thought. Something else to get used to.

Jason managed to reach the library first. He felt uncomfortable having Augere a few steps behind him. He entered and then stood before his usual chair while Augere walked around the desk to get to his own chair. Before Augere could get halfway around the desk Jason blurted out, “Mr. Augere, I am really sorry for all of the trouble and all of the extra expense I have caused you, as well as nearly ruining your trip to Europe and having you—”

“STOP!” Augere came to a sudden halt and extended his hand palm up in Jason’s direction. His voice was louder and sharper than Jason remembered him to be capable of, at least as far as being directed at himself. It was more frightening than any way he had ever been spoken to before. The highly irritated tone and the stern expression made Jason shut up immediately. Actually he momentarily considered bolting for the door.

“Stop.” Augere said again, much softer and more gently, as he sank wearily into his chair. He did not look at Jason, who remained standing, frozen in place.

It was a few moments before Augere spoke again and still he made no eye contact.

“I manipulated you away from your safe life. You now behave in ways that contradict your nature. There is fear and distress where you had none before. It is not necessary to apologize.”

Jason finally exhaled. “May I sit down?”

Augere did not look at him, but made a gesture Jason took to mean yes.

“I don’t feel as if I have been manipulated. I made choices. I feel I came here, twice, freely and of my own will. My fear is—my problem to deal with.” Jason was surprised at how steady his voice sounded. “If you are looking to take blame, I mean.”

Augere sighed heavily and sank further back into his chair. After several moments he spoke again, very softly, still without making eye contact.

“I cannot guarantee your safety. Not completely. You need to be aware of that.”

“What? From those portal things? I feel like I would be pretty safe if you were between me and one of them.”

Augere looked up at him then and frowned. “From me. I cannot protect you from myself.”

“Oh. I see.” Jason swallowed hard. “How much…risk is there? How likely is it that…?” Jason could not complete the sentence. Or the thought. He involuntarily leaned back a little more from the desk, and from Augere.

“Unlikely. But it could happen.” The gaze was steady upon him now.

“Would you be able…would there be any warning?”

“I could tell you to run.”

“Would I have a chance?” Jason asked hopefully.

“No.”

Jason swallowed hard again.

“It would be very quick.”

Jason sat quietly, looking down at his hands. Images from the dream last night crowded his mind.

“Do you still wish to stay?” Augere’s question was a softly delivered monotone.

“I’m not going anywhere.” Jason’s reply came immediately after Augere had said the last word.

They sat in silence for a few more moments, Jason once again staring down at his hands, folded in his lap.

“Jason.” Augere said quietly.

Jason became very still. He was absolutely certain, beyond any doubt, this was the very first time Augere had ever said his first name. Never, not once before had he done so, not from their first meeting through all that had occurred since. It caused Jason to feel strangely elated. Admittedly an unusual response, considering Augere had just told him he might have difficulty not killing him suddenly someday under as yet unknown circumstances. He had Jason’s full attention now, even more than usual. He was focused intently on Augere’s face.

“Several months ago, you brought a female companion to the house.”

Jason quickly dropped his gaze. Uh oh. Was that a big NO? Forbidden? Why bring it up now though? Oh, Okay. Maybe to re-establish and reinforce the rules. He nodded at Augere.

“I had to intervene.”

Jason began to recall that evening now. He had wondered if maybe Augere had heard or even seen him enter the house with the blonde he had picked up at a bar. She had been somewhat loud. Augere must have waited a short interval because he then called Jason just as he and the girl had begun making out. He had called on the cell phone requesting Jason’s assistance that minute. At the time, Jason remembered thinking: okay, he is just jerking my leash to see if I will respond to him quickly and under any circumstances. Well, he had gotten her out the door and had promptly assisted Augere. He had passed the test, hadn’t he? Why bring it up now?

“I am not—so knowledgeable about the A-I-D-S—” Augere spelled the letters, frowning. “The HIV.” He pronounced this awkwardly, as a word. “I know only how it is transmitted and that usually it is likely to be fatal.”

Jason could only stare at him with a stunned expression.

“You meant nothing to her. She was not going to tell you.” Augere’s gaze dropped.

A cold chill started at the top of Jason’s head and traveled the length of his body. He recalled now how she had laughed when he had mentioned stopping to get some protection; how casual she had been about it.

“I cannot watch you all the time. I should think you would not want that. Privacy is important. Be responsible.”

It’s only 11:10 in the morning. In the space of ten minutes he has already flattened my profuse apology. Confirmed there is a risk he might just kill me under certain circumstances. And now he tells me he pretty much saved me from a deadly fate. That is a just about a full day for me already.

He suddenly thought of Zavi. How he might have unknowingly put her at risk also, and he felt sick at the thought of it. He shuddered now, thinking of his close call.

“Is…is there anything…anyone…else you need to warn me about?” Jason asked numbly.

“Creatures of the night…?” Augere asked with a deadpan expression.

“Well—I mean, I meant, I guess…are there any of those portals in Boston?”

“Just that one in Kenmore Square.” The words and tone of voice matched his serious expression but his eyes held a hint of amusement.

“Hmmm.” Jason was looking steadily at Augere now, hearing him, but not really taking in the information for several moments. “Well, that would explain a few things.” Jason nodded, vaguely wondering if maybe Augere could just be messing with his mind now. Then his thoughts angrily turned to his near deadly encounter with the female stranger.

“I can’t believe she’s still out there! Probably infecting people every day.” The horror of it began to sink in. “All the unsuspecting people; the lives ruined! That attitude is unconscionable—she ought to be—”

“Do not concern yourself further—are you planning to take courses at university again?”

“What?…yeah, I might… That girl needs to be found immediately and turned in to the CDC—”

“Do not worry yourself—what do you think you might study?”

“Uh…I don’t know…I haven’t really thought… She actually laughed! Like it was all a joke to her! Now I know why she was being so evasive—”

“You must always be responsible—perhaps, the cinema studies again—”

“I am going to go out and find her! Today! It makes me furious just thinking about how—”

“Enough! Let it drop now!” Augere’s sharp words were spoken with such authority that whatever Jason’s next words might have been they scurried away to become permanently silenced.

“What did you and Genier discuss over dinner? You were there a long time…” The question took Jason by surprise and the other topic was left behind. It seemed he was going to have to get used to Augere knowing details he shouldn’t be able to know.

Jason looked up toward the ceiling a moment: “Uh…let’s see—what did we talk about? Oh, yes. I asked him some questions he thought I should ask you instead.”

“Did he.”

Jason nodded.

Augere avoided eye contact. “And have you questions now?”

Is he kidding? Jason was bursting with questions. He hardly knew where to start. Everything! He wanted to know everything. How and when and where did this change happen to him? What about other vampires? No, maybe he didn’t want to know that just yet. It was enough just dealing with one. What about his previous life? And how and when did he meet the Geniers—it seemed they were connected for generations. What abilities did he have? What was it like to be him? What kinds of things had he seen and done and—yes, and just how old was he—?

“Mr. Genier said I shouldn’t ask you your age. He said I should ask you when you were born.” This was a good place to start, Jason thought. And then, he would hear all the rest. Everything would be out in the open now, finally.

There was a brief pause. Augere still avoided eye contact and when he did speak his voice was even more soft than usual with a barely perceptible halt in his normally smooth speech.

“I was born on the 3rd of October, 1777.” His voice was barely audible.

“I am 23 as of the 23rd May, 1800. “ He paused then.

Jason just sat and stared at him. He’d heard. But he could not grasp it. He sat waiting as if for further explanation. There was silence. Jason blinked several times. He could not make a reply. Words refused to come together to make a sentence.

He stared at the youthful face, the smooth features, the lithe body—one that seemed barely twenty. It didn’t seem possible.

When he was finally able to speak, he didn’t recognize his own voice. “It’s…hard to accept,” he managed.

“Yes. It is.”

“I don’t think I have any more questions just now,” Jason said quietly.

Augere nodded once, without looking at him. “Go,” he said quietly. It was a few moments before Jason could collect himself and get up to leave.

He returned to his quarters. He sat in the small rounded alcove, the bay window area that was actually a small semi-circular room. His cozy reading nook looked out onto Beacon Street. He sat in one of the softly comfortable armchairs and gazed out that window now. Scattered snow flurries blew about. People passed by along the sidewalk. It was not yet winter enough for warmer attire, and people passed leisurely, laughing and talking together and moving forward to the next moment in their lives. Jason thought: no matter how sad or pleasant or interesting or dull that next moment would be for them, it could never be the measure of this. No matter what awaited them in any time of the rest of their lives—it would never be this. And he could not share any of it with anyone else ever. The window glass that separated him from them might as well have been a bell jar he would never escape. It had settled permanently over him. All of it was now his incredible secret too, forever.

He suddenly felt isolated and completely alone. Even for one accustomed to being at ease alone, the reality of the fact of his situation was overwhelming. In the space of just a half hour or so he had acquired a full weight of knowledge he was finding a little hard to bear. What have I really gotten myself into?

He had been almost willing to concede that Augere was possibly much older than he looked. In his seventies, maybe, but even that would have been a laughable stretch. Well, of course—vampires are supposed to be quite old, he thought. No—they aren’t even supposed to exist, he had to remind himself.

1800. 1777.

He got his laptop and accessed the information he had saved about his research into the Geniers. Some of the early records were sporadic and vague. Transactions made mention of many Geniers; the first names: Gerard, Francois, Etienne, Jean Luc, Ricard—becoming more anglicized: David, Andrew, Alexander, Adam, Charles—as the records began to reflect more modern times. The single name, Augere, was sometimes found interspersed among them. No first name given, ever.

“No member of my family has ever met any of his family,” Allen had said to him. “He has no family,” James had told him. They had been saying it all along, but he just had not been able to grasp it somehow. The Genier’s involvement with Augere had spanned, had lasted, at least 170 years. A great many Geniers. One and only one Augere.

And that, apparently, was not the full extent of it. Augere had known the Geniers only—only?—since the 1840s. That still left—he did some quick math—at least sixty-three years unaccounted for. He tried to put that long life into perspective. He did some more research online.

Augere had been born in France; he had said that. He would have been twelve during the French Revolution then. It was staggering. What else had he lived through and personally witnessed? He was living history to be sure, just as Jason had already begun to fantasize he could be. Only it was all so real. What kind of life had he led? Whom had he met and known? What had he seen and done and been a part of?

Mentally he began to isolate different eras and imagine Augere within the context of other times. All of the social, cultural and political upheaval and change he must have been witness to; and all the artistic and literary events he would have had access to. Had he lived in the London of Charles Dickens? Did he drink absinthe with Lautrec or Rimbaud or Wilde in fin de siècle Paris? World wars and plagues; historical and archeological discoveries: he was there, in a sense, was present in those times. How different was the Augere of 1840 and the Augere of 1940? Where had he been during the Civil War? James had mentioned he had a medical background…and that he had been in the military…where and when?

Suddenly Jason recalled the portrait he had seen in the house in Savannah and gasped. He had thought the man was an ancestor of Augere’s. Now he realized—it could actually be Augere himself! He tried to recall what the uniform had looked like in the portrait: not the Civil War, surely; besides, Augere was a French citizen…he recalled those passports now, the ones he had found…it was all just too amazing. He was filled with wonder. He wished he could see that portrait again right now…the eyes, the facial expression, even the hair—everything had been captured in the exact likeness as the present day Augere. It just had to be him. Extraordinary.

From the beginning Augere had held fascination for him. Jason had barely allowed himself to acknowledge the full extent of that. He was beginning to realize now it was going to be quite difficult to be casual around him.

Jason’s intense curiosity was manifested a hundred fold. He had recently learned from James that Augere had kept some physical, as well as emotional, distance in an effort to allow Jason to gradually adapt to him. Perhaps now Augere was looking forward to a more relaxed atmosphere. One in which he did not have to always be so careful to conceal his true nature.

And now Jason wanted to know all about that nature. He had shied away from more information just now, presently overwhelmed and needing to be able to put Augere’s incredible longevity into perspective. Now he wanted to know everything. But would Augere be willing to share personal details spanning all the years of his existence? Was it even appropriate for Jason, as his assistant, to ask about, to want to know all those details?

If I just come out and ask him questions, it could appear I’m being intrusive. I’m sure there is a line here that shouldn’t be crossed, but I don’t know where that line is. Should I just wait for him to reveal himself to me, on his own terms?

The Geniers, as well as Terrance now, could be a source of more information. But Augere would be resentful of him asking Terrance, especially behind his back. And what about the Geniers? It occurred to Jason now that even among them Augere would have had to adapt to a new generation every couple of decades. He would have to adjust and to form all new relationships. He outlasted all of them, always…unless the Geniers were vampires also. That was something he had not considered, but now it seemed pretty unlikely. Perhaps that was one reason it would be hard for Augere to form and maintain normal relationships: because of course—he would outlive any of his acquaintances. They would grow old and die, while he would not. No family, and quite probably, few friends if any. I suppose that is where the Geniers, and myself, come into the picture. Maybe we help him to deal with transition, as well as represent a kind of substitute for family and friends. One of the reasons I’m here, probably.

He was torn suddenly between wanting to see Augere again immediately, and needing more time to process all of this information; perhaps a little distance right now was a good thing.

He kept to himself the rest of that day. By the next morning he began to worry Augere might think he was being avoided. That Jason might be too uncomfortable to seek him out. It was only partly true, and probably not for the reasons Augere might suspect. Jason really did not want any awkwardness between them. He wasn’t used to being this insecure, and it was becoming trying to him.

He sought Augere in the library that afternoon but he was not to be found. And by that evening, still not having seen him, Jason decided he needed to take a walk, to get fresh air, and to work off his nervous restlessness.

The air was sharp but not yet bitter cold. He walked briskly for several blocks and then began to slow down as he began feeling more instead of less anxious. He felt as if he needed to go back to the house, now.

No, that is ridiculous. I don’t need to be there right now. If he needs me, he will call. He impulsively checked his work phone to make sure it was working properly.

Then he resumed his steady pace. I’m sure I have the rest of the evening free. I can go where I want and do whatever. I could just hang out somewhere and do nothing if that’s what I want. I don’t need a purpose or reason. I used to dream about having days like this, all to myself: dolce far niente: Sweet to do nothing. And now I have my wish.

Yet it was an effort to keep walking in the opposite direction from home. He began to feel irritated and frustrated with himself. He thought more about it and came up with a reason for his conflict.

I know what’s wrong. I searched for him hopelessly, fearing I would never get to speak to him again. And now I know just where he is and I should be able to talk to him freely. But something just wouldn’t allow the invisible walls to come down. Augere was as much, if not more, distant than ever. I sense that; I can feel it.

Part of it is me, I think. Getting over the underlying fears; the awe of him; feeling overwhelmed and intimidated. But the rest was Augere: Jason couldn’t make him be present or want to talk to him or tell his life story. There hadn’t been, since the beginning, any indication he had any real need to seek Jason out, for any reason. Why should he, really?

Jason was free right now—he didn’t need to be there with Augere; he had time and money to pursue his own interests and do things he really enjoyed—so why did he feel such a strong desire, a real need, to go back there right now? Why was it beginning to feel that time spent away from Augere was meaningless? Was it him, doing this? Or was it just Jason, thinking this? Is he pulling me back? Or am I subverting my will so I can bend to his?

I am not some Renfield! Waiting only for my Master’s voice to summon me—and I come when he calls. Jason laughed but without mirth. He was not going to be the slavish factotum, grateful for any crumbs from the Master’s table. He could not let that happen. Once again the depth of his emotions surprised him. He had wanted to come back more than anything. And he did not regret that decision for a moment. But he was going to need to find a healthy balance to keep doing this. He had to preserve his integrity and his own will, if it came to that. If it wasn’t too late; if he was still able to do so.

He didn’t want to lose sight of how important that was. But the other important thing was this rare opportunity that had been presented to him. One he nearly threw away. An opportunity to experience something few in this world would ever know. He was fairly sure there were others who would want to take his place, no matter what. He knew there were risks; but he wanted this. Even if I can’t foresee the eventual outcome. I want this for as long as I can have it; to experience the wonder of him and his life. The question is: can I do so without paying too high a price; without unreasonable compromise? Like getting myself killed. Or maybe going insane. Pondering all of this brought a new heavier weight to rest on him.

He wandered around Copley Square, missing Zavi now. Where was she? He needed her company. Why hadn’t she called him back? Maybe he had already lost her for good.

He entered a movie theater; watched a comedy he mostly enjoyed. He had some drinks and superficial conversation with several patrons in a bar afterward. His thoughts returned to the girl Augere had prevented from infecting him. He felt responsible to warn others. Why had Augere been so adamant that he drop the subject? How was he supposed to feel about that? He felt he should be doing something more but instinctively he let it go. Finally he was tired enough to head home and he took a taxi instead of walking the ten or so blocks. It was getting colder, and his bed and sleep were calling out to him.

He missed Zavi’s call the next day. She left him a voice mail. The enthusiasm in her voice left little doubt that she missed him and he was overjoyed to hear her voice. It turned out she had been out of town herself, visiting family in New York. He breathed a sigh of relief. And left her another voice mail since she would be away a few days longer.

Jason decided he was going to have a purposeful afternoon, one free from obsession with Augere. He contacted the University about the incomplete grade he would have from his class. He was going to be able to do a project and receive credit for the classes he had missed; it was generous of his professor to allow this. Not that he cared about the grade that much, and there were only a few classes before the end of the semester anyway. He decided he would enroll for the spring semester too. Maybe he and Zavi could attend some classes together. He was getting his life back on track.

He busied himself with things he needed to do in his quarters and then, before going out for the evening, he checked the library, which was dark and empty. He left to see a movie at the Orson Welles theater in Cambridge.

The next day he found Augere in the library, reading a book at his desk. Jason glimpsed the title as he entered: it was in French but he wasn’t able to translate it. A large cardboard box sat open on the desk; Augere had apparently received a shipment he had ordered.

Jason paused for some acknowledgement from Augere as he entered. He received none. He proceeded to the book shelves to find a book, though he had not intended to read now. He selected a familiar title.

He approached his usual chair and stood there feeling awkward for several moments until Augere finally glanced up at him, without a word. Jason got in a quick nod before Augere resumed reading. Then he selected a different chair, one several feet away, where he was not in Augere’s direct line of vision. He sought to respect Augere’s personal space; sitting directly opposite him without a nod from him seemed tantamount to expecting conversation. At least this way he could steal a glance at Augere from time to time. He hated this emotional distance between them now.

The book he had selected held interest for him, but he only pretended to read it. Now what? he wondered. I still have a lot of questions for him. I am getting a sense he does not want to be disturbed. Do I take a chance? Do I dare to disturb the universe?

He debated with himself, as he stole occasional glances: should he just casually blurt out a question? What if Augere didn’t want to answer? That would be even more awkward. If he thought Jason was prying into his private life, that door might slam shut, maybe forever.

Jason continued to pretend interest in the book he was holding. He leafed through it, and paused to read brief passages. It was a collection of stories by Ruth Rendel, an author he had discovered in Augere’s library, one whom he had now become fond of. He had read nearly every story in this particular book so far. He enjoyed the themes presented: misconceptions and miscommunications; romantic obsessions; coincidences and serendipitous occurrences, and how chance encounters and events had unexpected consequences. He continued to sneak quick glances at Augere, then went back to his mystery. He was really trying to unravel the other mystery in the room just now, the one beyond the book he held in his hands.

He was missing the clues to figure out this one. Augere seemed oblivious to him. He was ten feet away, but it wasn’t just the physical distance that separated them. The emotional distance was greater, and as tangible as a closed door. He was truly a remote island… Redlyn’s words! These came back to Jason suddenly: “I see you traveling to a distant shore…and then trying to reach a remote island.” Maybe he had been too quick to interpret those meanings literally. But as it had turned out, she had been pretty accurate: he had traveled to a distant shore. And he had faced danger from unexpected sources. Those portal things. Had she somehow seen them? She would surely have said so, he would think. “Things working behind the scenes to help him. Help from unexpected sources.” That could be Terrance. “The outcome would be favorable.” He was beginning to remember all the words she had said now in light of their uncanny accuracy.

He absently turned a page in the book. He began to recall the dream he had told Redlyn, the one after the visit to the house in Savannah. He recalled how she had said the house could represent or symbolize a person.

He glanced at Augere for a long moment. Someone who appeared to be one thing on the surface and quite something else in reality. Shrouded in mystery. One whose thoughts, feelings, inner life was kept hidden. His subconscious must have been in sync with more of what was going on with Augere than his conscious mind could accept. It was fascinating to him to realize it now: the many rooms, the layers of dust; all the decades and events and experiences that had shaped Augere into who he was now. All of it hidden below the surface, dark and secret.

He looked away.

A moment later he glanced at Augere again. Even if he could peer into every dark corner he still might not really know or understand him; what he had endured or the things he had done; what he thought and felt about all of it. What stood between them was all that had happened to him; what he had been before and what he had now become. Jason couldn’t begin to know the person across from him until he knew all that had happened to him in the past. He was not some unfathomable mystery. Jason just had to find or create some kind of bridge to that remote place where he—

“What is that green substance you drink?”

Jason was startled out of his reverie by Augere’s softly spoken question. He glanced up quickly, uncertain he had heard anything at all. Had he imagined it? He wasn’t presently drinking anything. Augere was still looking at the book he had been reading as if he had not spoken. After several moments though, he glanced up at Jason expectantly.

“I’m not…sure what you mean.”

Augere continued to gaze at him. A long silent interval passed. He seemed to be waiting patiently for his answer. As if Jason was just being stubbornly recalcitrant.

Okay, Jason thought. He considered what Augere could possibly be referring to. He drank green tea sometimes. Perhaps Augere had observed that. But that wasn’t actually green. He couldn’t recall even drinking anything green in Augere’s presence. Jason considered other possibilities. Could he possibly mean…

“Was it in a plastic bottle? …this high?” Jason gestured.

Augere nodded once.

“Oh. It is just a soda. A carbonated beverage.”

“Is it not harmful?”

What an odd question.

“I suppose it could be, if I drank mass quantities. Which I do not.”

Another long pause stretched, with Augere’s gaze still fixed upon him, even more uncomfortable than the first.

“Now may I ask you a question?”

Augere appeared wary. “If you must.”

Jason decided to take the leap.

“If I had not returned, would you have stayed in New Orleans, or come back here?” It was not the question he most needed an answer to, but it was a start.

A flicker of surprise crossed Augere’s face. “I would be here.”

“Are you angry and upset with me?”

“Why.” A toneless reply.

Jason shrugged. He would let that one go.

“Before that day I spoke to you, had you seen me at all in New Orleans that week?”

Augere’s only reply was a short abrupt laugh, without mirth. Jason was undaunted and decided to carry on.

“My voice—is it too loud for you—is it upsetting to you?”

This seemed to catch Augere off guard. He frowned slightly and then his expression softened. There was a hint of amusement in his eyes. As Jason had noted before it was difficult to catch Augere in an unguarded moment, but it was possible.

“You…no…not…usually,” was his hesitant reply.

Jason felt he was on a roll now.

“Is there some connection between you and the Ursulines convent?”

“We are just acquaintances,” was Augere’s quick and terse reply.

Jason tried to conceal his amusement. This was going well, sort of. He was not getting to the heart of what he wanted to know, but the circuitous path was going somewhere. He was getting to test the waters at least, even if they were murky.

“Several people—the Geniers” he corrected himself, “told me I should just talk to you, ask you questions and that you would answer them—”

Augere’s cold expression and his abrupt, icy tone took him by surprise. “What other promises did they make on my behalf?”

Well, so much for that, Jason thought. There was hardly any point in asking him anything trivial now, much less anything of any real importance. Jason left the rhetorical question, as he supposed Augere’s comment to be, hanging in the air as he sought to change the subject.

“Do you want me to see if I have any of the green soda?”

“I would like to taste it,” Augere said quietly.

Jason was surprised to find two 20oz bottles of the stuff in his pantry. He brought one of them with two glasses of ice on a tray. Augere picked up the bottle and read the label, quite thoroughly, it seemed.

“You are drinking chemicals,” he stated with surprise.

“Well, yes, that would be flavoring and the carbonation. Haven’t you had a carbonated beverage before?”

“My usual beverage does not come in carbonated form.”

Jason had to suppress a laugh. It wasn’t so difficult to stifle it as he realized he was a full container of that usual and preferred beverage, and was just now standing in too close proximity to the consumer of it.

“Horrible,” Augere pronounced, and then took another sip. Then another. And a moment later: “Do all of these taste like this?”

“Well, there are different flavors. Do you want to try a different one?”

“No…yes.”

Jason returned with a root beer. “This one is my favorite.”

Augere sipped it. Winced. “Why?”

“It tastes really good and refreshing especially when it is well chilled. I—we—like the sensation of the carbonation. And the chemicals”—Jason managed to maintain a serious expression—“are very tasty.”

Augere eyed him skeptically.

“Do you like the flavor?”

Augere shrugged. “I suppose…more than the green. Sarsaparilla.”

“Hmmm?” Jason asked.

Augere made no reply.

“I guess the other might be an acquired taste.”

Augere nodded once. He set the glass down, having finished the contents and then took his book and left the library.

Well, at this rate it was going to take a long time to learn much of anything from Augere. What else could he do? Jason hated being too direct and confrontational, but it was as though he was forced to be sometimes. I don’t want him to get angry with me. I’m just not sure now how to be around him now. He did not know if they both wanted the same things. He would like to have more of a personal connection with Augere; he was hesitant to acknowledge this to himself before. Why couldn’t we be good friends? Would he be comfortable with that? And he might have continued to wonder, until he had talked to Terrance. But maybe that relationship was an exception; and maybe that was the reason Terrance had lasted so long. Maybe this time Augere wanted and needed to maintain an emotional distance. And if that was the case then Jason would just have to accept it, no matter how he personally felt. If it had to be far less than a friendship then he had to know, so he could stop wanting that. He would never consider leaving of course, not for that reason. Having briefly and recently experienced what his life would be like once he no longer worked for or had access to Augere, Jason had no desire to be better acquainted with that reality again, ever. I just think it would make for a smoother working relationship if we genuinely liked each other.

He could take a measure of satisfaction in the fact that for reasons that were still not clear—regardless of the results of the screening criteria—Augere had selected him; he was one of a small and highly select number of people who would have knowledge of his existence and have access to him. And apparently Augere had chosen him far earlier than Jason could have known. Even any fear and uncertainty he might still have was not enough to deter him from this opportunity now. He very much liked Augere. He wanted to savor every moment of this experience. It would not be worth it to come across as impatient or pushy; he didn’t want to give Augere a reason to avoid him more than he already seemed to.

His waking thought on Monday was to stay as busy as possible to avoid those feelings of insecurity and any worrisome thoughts. He re-organized some of his belongings, having decided it was time to get rid of some clutter. So I can get more stuff. He laughed to himself.

Around noon, he received a phone call from Genier.

“Just checking in, Jason. How are you? How are things going?”

“Fine thanks. And you?”

“Very well, thanks.”

“I was very pleasantly surprised to find all of my stuff still here. I hadn’t even thought to ask about it, when I saw you.”

“Yes, well we wanted to have one of our staff present to handle moving the items, but the best one for the job was on vacation so that just didn’t work out and the plan was put on hold. But I am glad things did work out.”

“Me too.” Another thing in my favor, Jason thought. More help from unexpected sources.

“How has Mr. Augere been treating you? Decently, I hope.”

“Well, I did ask him some questions. He told me what year he was born…”

“Quite remarkable, isn’t it?”

“Almost unbelievable. And your family has been with him for so long…how did that come about—I’d ask him but I really don’t see him much and he doesn’t seem that amenable to questions.”

“It is kind of a long story. And again perhaps it is best if he tells it to you. Or at least his version of it.”

“I don’t know if that is likely to happen. It’s very difficult to get information out of him. I feel like I am prying into his personal life.”

“He knows and accepts that you will be curious about him, and will have many questions. He will tell you, if you ask him.”

“That’s just it. I mentioned you had told me that and it seemed to put him off—all of you really do have a good rapport with him though, don’t you?”

Genier laughed. “Why? What did he say about us?”

“It was more his attitude. Resentful, almost. I had to back down.”

“He is just being in one of his moods. Actually though…” Genier paused. “This is a rather difficult time of year for him. Perhaps it would be better to wait until after the first of the year. He may be more agreeable then. Yes—I would definitely advise waiting. Be patient.”

“Yes, okay then; I’m glad you told me that.”

“I have a question for you, Jason. Actually it is the other reason I’m calling. Do you have plans for the upcoming holidays?”

“I haven’t really thought about it,” he replied truthfully.

“So—you have not discussed any plans with Mr. Augere?”

“No. Not yet.”

“Do you have some idea, just thinking about it now, what you might be doing?”

“Nothing definite. Since I’ve only just come back, I am just taking it one day at a time.”

“I see. I am wondering if you could hold off mentioning to him any potential plans you might have—or that you spoke to me about this—until I get back to you. Would that be okay? And, then, if you have no definite plans still, would you be open to some alternate arrangements?”

“Sure. I guess I can do that. I probably won’t see him anyway, so it most likely won’t be an issue.”

“Good. I will get back to you soon then.”

Now what is going on? Jason wondered as the phone call concluded.

An hour after his phone call from Genier, Zavi called.

The welcome sound of her voice lifted his flagging spirits. What did he have to be down about? He had his job back with Augere; had his cushy lifestyle again; Zavi was still in his life; all of his belongings still safe where he had left them. All was right with the world.

She was back in town and they made plans to meet for dinner. He planned to take her to a romantic restaurant. And then they would go shopping. See a movie. Whatever she wanted. They agreed to meet in the mall at Copley Square. He sat on a bench near the movie theatre in the mall, nearly a half hour early. He was feeling nervous and a little shy at the idea of seeing her again, but soon she was striding toward him with a big smile. Her shining dark hair, falling in long cascading waves just past her shoulders, bounced as she walked. As she approached him, her deep blue eyes were even more striking and beautiful than he had remembered. The deep feelings she stirred in him surprised him now. He had been aching for her and now he suddenly felt himself blush at the sight of her. He had been wondering, as he waited, if she still felt the same toward him, thinking of the closeness they had shared. Now as their eyes met all of the warmth that had once been between them returned, melting any doubts away. He embraced her and kissed her passionately. Her lilting laugh charmed him more than ever. They sat side by side in the candlelit restaurant sipping wine and speaking in low tones. He was enjoying her subtle perfume; the nearness of her, the casual way her arm lightly brushed against his from time to time.

She stirred cream into her coffee, slowly, the very gesture sexy to him, then turned her head to look him fully in the eyes. He could melt under her gaze.

“I’ve really missed you, Jason.” Her voice was a soft seductive whisper. He leaned in closer and kissed her lips. Her hand lightly groped his thigh under the table. He gasped and she laughed playfully. Then he laughed too and kissed her again.

They walked around the mall. She gazed into store windows. He gazed at her. From time to time he discreetly checked his work phone.

There was a very large tree decorated in the corner of the mall, set up as if it were in a cozy living room, with red velvet furniture and a faux fireplace. Fake presents were stacked about and a fake window showed fake snow falling outdoors. Impressively overdone. But it gave Jason an idea.

The huge foyer in the house could handle a fairly large tree. He could order one and have it delivered and set up as a surprise; maybe it would help to cheer Augere.

He would have to buy a lot of ornaments of course, but there might be some fun in that. He could pick a theme…

Zavi tugged playfully at his sleeve. “You were gone there for a few moments.” She laughed.

“Sorry,” he slipped his arm around her waist. “Just seeing this tree reminded me—”

“Oh, yes, your family? Well, you got to see them after the Europe trip, didn’t you? I bet they were surprised!”

He nodded. Not nearly as surprised as I was.

“Are you going home to see them over the Christmas holidays?”

Though he had always spent the holidays with his family, the thought hadn’t even occurred to him yet. He had just been home.

“I think you should, Jason. My dad wants all of us to travel to London over Christmas, to be with the rest of the family. And then he is taking all of us on a holiday to Spain. I won’t be back until classes start again in January.”

He drew her closer to him as they walked. “I’ll see you before you leave, won’t I?”

She nestled into his shoulder. “You better.”

He wanted to invite her back to his place, right now. But he decided it might not be wise.

They went to her apartment instead, and once they confirmed her roommates were out, they immediately undressed and got into bed.

He gave himself over completely to his lust for her and she responded in kind, meeting his deep thrusts with equal passion and moans of intense pleasure. They lay, pleasantly spent, gazing at each in the dimly lit room.

She stroked his hair. “I love this dark, soft sexy hair of yours! It was one of the things that drew me to you.”

“Really.” He propped himself up on his elbow.

“Yes! I love when it is spiked a little but mostly I love the tousled layers. Well, that and your dark blue eyes, your pale look…your choice of clothes…that whole gothic vibe you have. It is totally exciting to me.” She leaned in to kiss him. “And you are one of the sweetest guys…”

He stroked her arm, gazing into her beautiful eyes. He felt lucky to have her in his life. No one had ever appraised or appreciated him for the things he also liked in himself. This was a unique experience for him. She validated the uniqueness he valued. And that still wasn’t even the best thing about her…

“I was always attracted to the gothy types I’d see in London, but most of them seemed distant and unapproachable to me; haughty even. They would barely give me a glance…probably because I don’t look particularly goth myself though I love that aesthetic so much. But you were so nice to me, right from the beginning…”

“Hey—I’m not just your gateway to all those other goth guys am I?” he asked with mock indignation.

She laughed then and pushed at his chest playfully. “Not if I have finally captured my own proper goth boy… Have I?” she asked then with a solemn expression. He laughed and then kissed her gently, and then again, with growing passion. He moved on top of her as she eased onto her back. He cupped one of her breasts in his hand and caressed and fondled the softness of her nipples as he looked into her eyes and kissed her again.

She looked so beautiful. Moonlight shone into the bedroom window and illuminated her dark hair making it look blue black as it splayed across her pillow. Her skin seemed even more pale in the moonlight as he bent his head to kiss her deeply again, her eyes looking up at him, intense and luminously blue, almost violet colored in the dim moonlit room—

Another image came quickly to mind and he paused suddenly. It startled him and he pulled back just a little. She noticed.

“Jason? What is it? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” He laughed a little nervously, shaking his head slightly and then kissing her full on the mouth, lingering over her lips. “Just pacing myself.” She arched her back then and nuzzled against him, kissing his neck and chest. She reached around and grabbed a handful of hair at the back of his head, pulling his mouth to hers again, kissing him deeply.

Her naked breasts pressed against his bare chest and her nipples hardened as he became more aroused also. She groped him and guided him into her, eagerly meeting his intensity with her own.

It was after midnight when he finally left her apartment and took a taxi home. Once in his bed the faint scent of her perfume on his skin briefly made him feel a little aroused again as he slowly drifted off to sleep, pleasantly exhausted.

He was awake by 9 a.m. the next morning. He hardly needed an alarm clock anymore. He showered and had breakfast, and when he checked the library he was disappointed: no Augere.

Well, why should he be here? It is only Tuesday. And it is early in the day. If I do see him it is usually later in the afternoon… He was finding it difficult to keep busy enough. Harder than actually putting in a full day’s work, he thought, or at least as he remembered it. He looked into the Christmas tree idea for the foyer. It could be done; not cheaply, but worth doing. He held off making the decision just yet. Too many uncertainties at present.

He decided to go shopping, browsing for gifts for his family. Should I get a gift for Augere too? What on earth could he possibly get him?

He wondered if maybe he should go home for the holidays. Maybe attempt to erase that horrible week from his memory; replace it now with good, happy times with his family. Then again, he had just seen all of them. It was not like he was missing them right now. But if he stayed here with Augere in Boston— what then? Zavi would be out of town. He knew no one else here. Did Augere even celebrate the holidays? What if Christmas was just another day to him? And if this wasn’t a good time of year for him, it could be pretty dismal here. In fact, he probably would not even see Augere at all. He might still be all alone. It wouldn’t even feel like the holidays. I could have the large decorated tree here for myself at least; that would be cheerful, he thought, feeling a sudden wave of sadness. Well, it might be something to cheer both of us maybe.

Then again, if he did go home to his family, he would be leaving Augere by himself. He had no family and possibly no friends here either. He could be spending the holidays all alone… Yes, but then again, he had been dealing with this for a very long time. Maybe for more than two hundred years… I really don’t know what I should do. Maybe he would prefer to be alone.

Some expert advice was called for.

He decided to call Terrance again. He checked the time in London, once he was well away from the house. The calling arrangements still seemed so clandestine, and he mentioned that concern once the required message had been delivered and Terrance was on the line.

“I understand your concern. But don’t worry. Seriously. How are things going in the realm?”

“Not brilliant.”

Terrance laughed. “Are you picking up some of his phrases, or mine?”

Jason laughed also. “I think your accent brings that out in me. Either that or maybe it’s all the Harry Potter I’ve been exposed to.”

“Brilliant. By the way, he told me he wants to watch all of the Harry Potter films now. He would probably enjoy them and maybe you can watch them together! I’ve watched all of them with my family.” Terrance laughed and then became serious again. “Has there been trouble, seriously?”

“I just want to feel comfortable around him, and to have him feel comfortable around me. I don’t quite know how to achieve that. I don’t really know how to approach him now. He seems to have no real desire to talk to me. Usually if someone has a sense of humor I find I can almost always feel more comfortable and engage with them; I was sure he appreciates humor, but now I wonder if maybe he has just been laughing at me all along—”

“This IS Augere we’re speaking of, right? I have found him to be extremely funny, a lot of the time. Well…you know, maybe not so much at first. I think it did take some time now that I think of it, for him to feel comfortable with me, so I guess I know what you mean. But he’s not one to be laughing at other people. He is capable of cruelty, to be certain, but I have not known him to cruelly laugh at or mock others. He has a very dry, wicked sense of humor.

“Actually just the other day I was remembering something funny to do with the Geniers, and a prank he pulled at one of their meetings in New Orleans. I wasn’t there, but I heard the details from someone who was. Whenever there is a meeting, refreshments are always provided, usually a lavish selection of pastries, beverages, etc. Augere usually hates to be present when people are eating. It is uncomfortable for him. So that time he brought a large clear goblet of what appeared to be blood to one of the meetings. It was actually some concoction of tomato, cranberry and something else and red food coloring to make fake blood , something he saw on the TV. Anyway, he casually sipped at it now and then, though he really can’t handle drinking such things, which made it seem all the more real I suppose. Everyone was trying to appear casual and not show any abhorrence for his choice of beverage. No one wanted to anger or to offend him, but they were becoming more and more ill at ease, and literally ill, it seems, as the meeting went on. I can just picture that scenario and it makes me laugh every time. If I had been present, I told him I would have casually reached over and picked up his glass and taken a sip for myself—someone would definitely have dropped to the floor then, I can assure you. We both fall out laughing when we talk about that story. Knowing him as I do, he would never bring blood to a meeting like that. Not ever. But it was damn funny.”

Jason enjoyed Terrance’s hearty laugh as he joined him in laughter.

“And if I ever need to diffuse a tense situation or just totally break him up, I have only to utter two words: Jogging clothing.” Terrance laughed again. “I’ll have to tell you that story someday. He is able to get back at me by uttering one of two phrases and I will try to share that weakness with you, but I warn you I can hardly say the words myself without breaking up totally; I have been known to lose all sense of self control at the mere mention of…” Terrance struggled with laughter as he managed with difficulty to express, “The Remains of the Day lunchbox,” followed by a long hearty laugh and sounds of a struggle to catch his breath before he could utter, “The Glengarry Glen Ross Go-To-Lunch Box. Sometimes all he has to say to me is ‘Shall I fetch your lunchbox?’ Then I’m done for.”

Jason readily joined in the lengthy laughter and told Terrance he immediately recognized those exact movie references and that he loved that kind of humor.

“Wait—are you the person he said he has a bet with—about the Queen’s purse? I thought maybe he was just joking with me about that to mess with my mind—”

Terrance’s uproarious laughter told Jason he was right. “I can’t believe he told you that!” Terrance fairly sputtered. “And this is the person you believe is lacking in humor? His obsession with the Queen alone!—wait that reminds me: I have to call and tell him I believe she carries a small folding pen knife to stand in for a sword in case she has to knight someone on the spot.” They both enjoyed a long laugh again. Jason’s mood had already improved considerably.

“So—tell me more of your concern—is he giving you a real hard time? Just being difficult?”

“Well, I have tried to ask him some questions, and I didn’t get very far. He did tell me his real age…”

“Quite remarkable, isn’t it? This was stuff I grew up with as a kid, you know from movies and TV, all that fascination with vampires—never dreaming it could possibly be real.“

“My childhood too, yes! And just to look at him—it is still very hard to believe.”

“You will be more convinced when he starts to tell you things. He is truly fascinating.”

“This is such an amazing experience—to know someone like him. I want to know everything. I’m finding it hard to draw him out though. I want to know all about him; I just can’t seem to learn anything new—”

“HA! You are still on the honeymoon. You will come to look back on these days with longing, I can assure you. Enjoy his silence and distance for now. Trust me. Meanwhile, does he simply refuse to answer you?”

“Well, I guess…at one point, I asked if I could ask another question and he just looked at me, silently.”

“That means proceed.”

“You see, now how would I know that? It is not like he comes with a manual.”

Terrance laughed. “You could tell him that! He would appreciate that comment! Seriously though, I know how difficult he can be. Sometimes he has to be in the mood to talk about himself. That could be infrequent. And—he has a way of seeming to answer your questions without actually answering them at all. You will see. He has mastered that.”

“Great.” Jason sighed. “He asked me a question about a beverage I drink, which I wasn’t even drinking at the time—it seemed rather odd…“

“He notices everything. Every minute detail. He is intensely curious about us. Not humans in general; only specifically those whom he has allowed into his life. He wants to know all about us.”

“Why not just ask me? I would tell him whatever he wanted to know.”

“When he asks you questions, often he already knows the answers. It seems he would rather find out things secretively, on his own. He snoops around. And he told me he hates that he does that. He said it is very out of character for him to be so suspicious and curious.”

“You mean—snooping—in my private quarters…? Should I leave the door unlocked…?” Jason would have preferred his privacy. He didn’t much like hearing of this.

“He expects us to respect his privacy, but it doesn’t always go both ways. Be careful of what you leave unguarded, as far as information. And locked doors don’t mean anything to him. Besides, he gave you the keys to your door, right? You can be certain he has made his own copies.”

Jason hadn’t thought of that. “He was curious about carbonated beverages. I guess he had never had them before. He asked if he could try one—”

“Carbonation has been around for a very long time. He knows this and he absolutely has had carbonated beverages before because I have personally provided him with some. We have definitely had this discussion in the past.”

Jason was surprised to hear this. “Then why would he act as if he hadn’t? Why not just say what he wanted, if he just wanted to taste the flavor? Or, just go and get one for himself?”

“Because you were drinking it. You have probably noticed the way he intensely studies you. It used to freak me out that he did that. He wants to learn all about you, and all that you do; all that you think about. Though he is usually quite direct and straightforward in most things, when it comes to his personal curiosity, he seems indirect and surreptitious. Also, and I am not sure why, but he pretends to be ignorant about a great many things. He knows much more than he ever lets on. It appears to be a little game that he is fond of.

“Sometimes I think he hesitates to ask us because he doesn’t know how to ask what he wants to know. And I think part of the reason for his reticence is that he has been laughed at and mocked before when he has attempted to learn what he is curious about. So now he hates to ask us questions directly. No subtlety escapes him though. And he can bluff expertly. He will get you to give up all the verbal and non-verbal cues he needs in order to know you better than you know yourself. Sometimes he will suddenly become intensely curious, and try to learn as much as he can quickly, even asking a barrage of questions all at once, before the opportunity is lost.”

“But, why would he think the opportunity would be lost?”

“Because if you leave, for example, he won’t get to know all the things he wanted to know.”

“But I’m not going anywhere. I am not leaving; especially now that I have gotten to come back here.”

“In his mind, we all leave him. Sooner, or later.”

This gave Jason pause. That this was Augere’s view deeply touched and saddened him, more than he might have imagined. Because Augere was right. No matter how long the association lasted, or how well things went, it all had to come to an end. This provided Jason with a glimpse into an aspect of vulnerability in Augere.

“Do you think that might be his way of trying to get closer to us?”

“I think it is a mistake to think that.” Jason thought he detected some sadness in Terrance’s voice. “I don’t think he really ever attaches to any of us. Though each of us might like to believe so.”

“But—it seems he and James are close. And you—after twenty-five years of knowing him, I would think he must hold affection for you; some fondness definitely; maybe as much as you hold for him—”

“He does not view time the same way we do. Twenty-five years is nothing to him. No more than an evening gone. And he still remains uncomfortable around us, even those who have known him a long time, and who have demonstrated their loyalty. He is still distrustful of us; in particular he will not allow himself to trust his experiences with us.”

“I don’t understand that. Why would that be?”

“For one thing, he knows his aura, or his magnetism, or whatever you wish to call it, that presence he has—is a powerful lure that pulls us toward him, sometimes against our will. So he does not trust that our feelings regarding him are real. He can and will use that power to his advantage when he wants to. But at the worst, he holds contempt for us for fawning over him, succumbing to that power, that sort of ‘glamour’ he has no true control over and that we seem too weak to resist. He believes it is never him we are attracted to, never him we really like, but merely our perception of him that draws us in: that we may be drawn unknowingly to what he is and not who he is. Conversely he has experienced people suddenly being repulsed by what he is; people who have then totally rejected him because of his nature, even after getting to know him and seemingly accepting him. As a result he perceives our words, our sentiments as being mostly empty and meaningless. Not to be trusted; not real. And so—it is all rather one sided; though we may attach to him, he really does not attach to any of us.”

Augere does not trust any of us. Perhaps rightfully so, Jason thought. He felt as if he might be betraying Augere’s trust right now by having this secret conversation with Terrance. But this information was important. And the intent was simply to know him better, not to cause harm.

His desire to become closer to Augere was already beginning to seem hopeless; a void that might always remain empty. No matter what was said or done, no matter how genuinely felt and expressed, all of the feeling was false in Augere’s view, and his was a view that seemingly could not be altered even with experience and over time. Jason began to feel a deep sadness for him. But still, others must have succeeded in forming some bond.

“You have a long shared history with him, Terrance. I’m sure it must have taken a while to build that rapport. I have to think there is some genuine feeling toward you on his part. It seems you understand him so well.”

“Yes, I suppose it must seem that way. He can be quite a mystery to me still. Some of us think of ourselves as different. That he has made an exception for us. Maybe it is an illusion we like to hang on to. I believe the insecurity does go both ways. Our relationship did evolve, seemed to become closer, over time. There was always some distance and formality though. He always kept a lot to himself. But I believe I was able to get to know him fairly well, or as well as anyone could. He can be quite temperamental. Bluntly honest at times and then very secretive and withholding. Wickedly funny; extremely generous at times. Yet also completely horrible and with no remorse or regret. And no apologies offered, ever. I think we get along better now that I don’t work for him. I do truly miss him. But we do keep in touch; he does call me quite often. He called me this morning in fact.”

“He did?” Jason contemplated this a moment. “When he calls you, does he usually have a specific reason?”

“There is always a reason behind everything he does, even the simplest things, though we may not always know what that reason is. The Geniers and I have speculated he is, always, a minimum of ten steps ahead of us.”

“And this time, when he called, why do you think it was?”

“Well, this time though I truly think he just wanted to talk, just conversation. He will do that sometimes. Perhaps needing some solace too.”

Jason paused to consider this. “You have been there for him before…and so he turned to you again.” Jason spoke his thoughts out loud. Terrance didn’t necessarily view this as positive regard on Augere’s part. But Jason thought it must be.

“Yes, I suppose it really could be,” Terrance admitted. “I know this time of year is especially difficult for him. He knows I’m aware of that.”

“Mr. Genier mentioned that to me also. That was one of the reasons I called you. I wasn’t sure what to do about the holidays. Whether to stay in Boston to keep him company, or to leave him alone and make other plans. I want to get a large tree, something traditional and decorate it for the holidays—I was thinking I could put in the main foyer for both of us to enjoy—”

“Oh, no! Bad idea. Anything to do with human cheerfulness—all that holiday stuff especially—is quite stabby to him.”

Stabby? Stabby.

“Oh, I see. Well, I’m really glad I mentioned it to you first. That would have been horrible. A real disaster.”

“Yes. Quite.” There was a pause. “Of course, that doesn’t stop the Geniers from going ahead with their holiday plans, which usually do include him. I’m guessing from your comments they haven’t made the arrangements yet?”

“Uh, I don’t know…What arrangements?”

“Ah, the game is on! Has Genier approached you about the holidays though?”

“Well, yes, as a matter of fact, he did bring it up. He said he would get back to me.”

“There you go. Brace yourself. Things could get a little bumpy.” Before Jason could respond, Terrance continued, “I just remembered something else I wanted to tell you: Be mindful of what you say and how you express it to him. He can take things quite literally at times—he can be too concrete. Both the Geniers and I have had some close calls.”

“How do you mean?” Jason was puzzled.

“You know how sometimes we all may say one thing, and mean another? Or mean nothing at all by it? It’s just something we say? He doesn’t always get that. Like with the Highgate incident: you made a flippant comment, but he took it quite literally.”

“So—he doesn’t always get—sarcasm?”

Terrance laughed. “Oh, he does, yes, but still he often interprets things quite differently. For example, when you work for him, you are under his protection, which probably sounds like a good thing, and it usually is. But anything that bothers you or could negatively impact you is something he sees as a threat. Something to be eliminated, usually permanently. How can you focus on him and what he needs from you, if you are worried or bothered by something? So you don’t ever want to say things to him like: ‘that guy at the grocery store is such a pain in the arse. I don’t know why he gives me such a hard time’—or ‘my girlfriend is being such a bitch to me lately.’ If you ever hear him say ‘I will take care of it’—that is the time to back up and think over what you have just said and correct any misunderstandings right then. Unless you really do not ever want to see your girlfriend again. And you have solid alibis.”

“Are you saying he would go out and really harm someone, just because—”

“The Geniers seem to think, or perhaps they choose to believe, that he rarely acts on his deadly impulses. They have talked to him at length about surveillance, forensic evidence, modern technology—that sort of thing—everyone has a camera at their ready use these days—and they have warned him not to do anything even remotely illegal, in public especially. But I do believe he does so, and often.

“You always have to remember: vampire. If there is one and only piece of advice I can get you to never lose sight of it is this—never forget for a moment: vampire.”

“Yes. I am just beginning to see him in that different light now. Has he ever acknowledged as much to you? About acting on things like you mentioned?”

“Yes and no. Sometimes it is more like a vague feeling. And there would be his casual attitude about any mention of someone who has suddenly gone missing. Could he wantonly kill humans on a regular basis and has he done so? I know he has, in the past at least. But not just gratuitous violence, not murder just for the sake of it. He does have a moral side. He always has his reason and justification, even if it is not reasons we might agree with.”

It was chilling to hear Terrance say so. Even though he was slowly coming to accept that of course, this went with what Augere was. A thought suddenly came to mind—something significant and relevant to Terrance’s comments, but it seemed a vague and fleeting concern, a thought that was gone before Jason could express it.

“Terrance, I have more questions about him; things I would rather ask you, than ask him about. Because I don’t want him to laugh at me, or get angry and offended.”

“Okay, well, go ahead then.”

“I know he needs to have blood, and water. I’ve seen him drink other substances too. Is he capable of eating and drinking like we do? And what about garlic and mirrors—is any of that mythology true for him? And coffins? I don’t know if he has them—Mr. Genier said he is claustrophobic, but…I still don’t know how all of this works. That he survived a wooden stake…all of the things I don’t know really concern me. You said he is impervious to every harm. I’m afraid I will say or do something out of ignorance; I worry about that—”

“I totally understand what you mean. No one has yet taken the time to explain. And he would tell you, all of that, or most of it, in time. But I believe you are saying it is better to know sooner, rather than later. And I do agree.”

“Yes.” Jason breathed a sigh of relief.

“As I was saying before—truly immortal. No kryptonite out there anywhere with his name on it. He is very uncomfortable in strong sun but there is no permanent harm. No silver bullets, and obviously no wooden stakes can cause harm either. Fire will burn his clothing off, but leave him unscathed. Holy water, crosses, garlic—all of that—is rubbish. No shape shifting. As for coffins—he has two of them actually…uhmmm, let’s see…any wound will quickly heal, if any wound can even occur, which is quite rare to begin with. No illness can infect him. Much of the truth regarding him is so far from all the mythology we have been led to believe. One hears the word immortal in reference to vampire and yet it turns out any number of things can end their existence, at least the mythological ones. It would always make me laugh once I knew him, the way that word immortal is tossed about in movies and literature: exposure to continued harsh sun, fire, a wooden stake, a silver bullet—all these can end my existence, and supposedly any vampire’s as well! If someone twisted off their heads, they could die—me too! Those vampires are only slightly more immortal than I am! And then for that mythological vampire, their forever is over.

“Not this vampire. Truly immortal, Jason. There is no escape for him. And that fact has had a huge impact and significance on his existence and the way he views everything. No way out.

“As for food, though he could eat, apparently it would make him quite ill—not illness in the sense that we think of it: his would be much worse, like a poison. But of course, not fatal. Usually he can only handle clear liquids in small amounts. Except for water—he can consume lots of water. His body cannot metabolize alcohol, but he does like to drink. He does not require much to be inebriated as the effects are greatly enhanced for him, and so he will usually drink in moderation. But I will say this: you do NOT want him to be drunk.”

“Great. And just how am I supposed to prevent that?” Jason asked with some alarm.

“Yeah, good luck with that! There is really not much point in trying to get him to do something, or to try to stop him from doing something, once he has decided.”

“Terrance—you see? There is so much I didn’t know! I am so grateful for all of this information—and I’m really surprised about the coffins—”

“Uh, it is not quite what you think—”

“—and if it wasn’t for you I still wouldn’t know most of this… Terrance—do you think he is unhappy with his existence?”

“He struggles with it sometimes, though I don’t know if he would still agree with that statement. It is a very complex issue in some ways. He has lost many things as a result of his situation. Those things he is unhappy about. But I can say I have not ever, not once, heard him say he hates being vampire.”

Jason was surprised and intrigued by that comment; he wanted to linger over this information, to ask more questions, to continue this discussion but once again he knew he had kept Terrance on the phone long enough.

“I appreciate all you have shared with me, Terrance.”

“And I have enjoyed having a say, and feeling as if I have been of help to someone else. As I said I really do not ever get to talk to anyone about him; I can’t even say much to my wife either. So it’s good to have someone to share some of my thoughts and experiences with. I would not have thought how important that could be, just to be able to unburden oneself. But it is a heavy secret to carry alone for so many years.”

“So your wife doesn’t know about him?”

“No. Not truly. And though she met him several times, years ago, it would be unwise to let her see him again; she would notice how much he has not changed. I’m not sure what she believes but she has learned not to ask too many questions concerning him.”

“I know I have to let you go. I’ll try not to bother you for a while.”

Terrance laughed. “It is sincerely not a bother We will be in and out of town for the holidays, and then gone briefly in January, and then for an entire month end of February to end of March. You can try to reach me in between if you need to. And you can always call James too of course. He will help you.”

Terrance was silent for a few moments. “As I have said, I do miss him. More so, from a safer distance. I think you will be fine. Try not to worry so much. He will give you time to adjust. Right now you are going to have to focus on getting through the rest of December. That could be a bit of a challenge. Things will work out though. I should tell you this—he paid you absolutely the highest compliment ever. I was quite astounded.”

“Really?” Jason was skeptical. “What did he say?”

“He said you reminded him of me.”

They both laughed then. “Thanks again, Terrance. Enjoy the holidays!”

“And you too, my friend. Stay well. Ta for now.”

Jason wandered around in the Copley mall for a while, a little dazed once again from all the new information he had just acquired. And again, it would take some time to begin to process all of it. He stopped at a drugstore and bought a small notebook, and a headache remedy, and then found a café and sat for a while, trying to recall and write down all Terrance had said. Over a sandwich and several cups of coffee, he finally felt as if he had gotten most of it recorded. Things he needed to know, and to remember.

He started to walk home, taking his time and browsing the decorated store windows downtown, still undecided on his holiday plans. No tree, not for the foyer anyway. Too stabby! Maybe he could still get one for his own quarters though. A decent sized one, just for himself.

Yeah, good thing he had called Terrance. That thought suddenly reminded him to check his work phone. He retrieved it from his jacket pocket and realized with dismay he had absently set it to do not disturb mode. And it had been in silent mode for almost three hours now, ever since he had finished talking to Terrance.

“It’s not like he calls me, anyway.” He checked his calls. “Oh, no! Three missed calls from Augere. Damn it!” He never missed Augere’s calls; they were so infrequent to begin with. And now he had actually called, several times, and Jason had missed him. I must have silenced it right after I talked to Terrance! An unconscious gesture. He was nearly home now. Just a few more blocks. He checked his messages as he walked. No messages. Augere had called three times and left no messages. This was not good. He had better try to call Augere right away. And what excuse would he give him? That he had been betraying his trust by speaking to his former assistant about him? Noooo…not that one.

Before he could call Augere, and just as he was entering his private entrance, his phone rang again. He assumed it would be Augere. It was Genier.

“Hi, Jason. Just to check, you haven’t spoken to Mr. Augere, yet, about any holiday plans, at all, have you?”

Something about the way the question was phrased, as Jason was able to recall later in retrospect, should have made him take more notice.

“No. But I did just miss a call from him.”

“Good. I am glad I got to speak to you first then. Since you mentioned you didn’t have any definite plans, I am wondering if you would consider accompanying Mr. Augere to New Orleans for the holidays? I know it won’t be the same as being with your own family. Or whatever your plans are; but it could be very enjoyable for you.”

New Orleans again? With Augere? Spending the holidays?

That actually did sound like a great idea. Well, maybe.

“Is this something he normally does? And does he usually take his assistant along?” Jason was hoping for a yes.

“He hasn’t had an assistant for several years. And prior to that he didn’t want to travel from London every year. That has been his most recent excuse.”

“But—do you think he would prefer that I go with him?”

“Actually he prefers not to go at all. He said he was here recently and does not need to return so soon.”

Jason’s hopes fell.

“But I insisted. This is one of the few things I ask of him. That he spend this time with us. He just told me he cannot go because his assistant has other plans and he does not want to travel over the holidays without an assistant to accompany him. So he has told me no. I thought he might be using you as his excuse to get out of this.”

“But I didn’t mention any plans to him; I didn’t really have anything definite—”

“I suspected that might be the case, but I wanted to ask you first, just to be sure. I thought as much. I do know him pretty well.”

Damn it! That is probably why Augere was calling me—to back up his story! And having my phone silenced might have looked like I was conspiring with Genier. Damn it!

“But if he really doesn’t want to go…if maybe he dislikes the holidays so much—wouldn’t it be better if—”

“It is not the holidays so much. He is never happy about this and he resists every year. But I need to have my way in this matter. I do not want him to be alone over the holidays and that’s that. I do have to yield to him on a lot of things, but not this. If he refuses, he knows what the alternative will be. And I know he does not want that.”

Genier can issue ultimatums to Augere? This is interesting… Damn. How did I get in the middle of this? They can’t be worried he could come to harm, just by being alone, not truly…right? What is this really all about?

“But—won’t he be angry—with me—if it looks like I took your side, against him?”

“He would be angry if he thought I put you up to it, and he may suspect that—”

Well that is just great! Jason felt a growing sense of alarm.

“—but if I convince him that because your own plans had changed I was then able to convince you to accompany him, he would just have to see it differently.”

Jason was dubious.

“I know we can’t be a substitute for your own family. But we are already thinking of you as family too, and we would all like to welcome you. There will be around the clock celebrations, parties, the reveillon, bonfires, live music and way too much food and drink…I think you might enjoy much of it.” James sounded enthused.

Jason knew he was being pleasantly nudged. Again. But… New Orleans. Parties and festivities. And Augere. It did sound pretty good.

“I don’t have to be the one to tell him, do I?”

“No. I will take care of that. We will make all the travel arrangements too. You just have to get him here. I will have both of you fly out on the 23rd of December.”

“Okay.” Jason kept the weighted sigh to himself. It already sounded like a done deal.

“Excellent. I will notify him and I’ll be in touch.”

Jason hung up and then gave his phone an accusatory look. Now I’m going to have to call Augere. I have to explain why he wasn’t able to reach me. Why I was unavailable for so long. Because I was breaking his rules.

Jason called Augere’s number. He still did not have a ready excuse to give him, and the truth refused to come out of hiding. Busy. Busy? Oh, no! Genier must be calling him right now. It’s late. It’s already past 11 p.m.. Should I wait until tomorrow then? Tomorrow was Thursday, their usual meeting day. Maybe he would have to see him then anyway. Or not. NO! I have to call him back tonight. I have to explain, or at least tell him something.

Jason paced in his quarters. He stared at his phone from time to time. I have to do this now. I have to get this over with. Explain why I wasn’t there when he needed me.

****

12:00 Midnight local time New Orleans∼

“Laurent…I know you’re there…you can’t answer the phone and then pretend not to be there.”

“Yes. I can.”

“I’m just calling to say goodnight…and to see if you needed anything from me right now…”

“I am certain there is more.”

“Well, yes. Actually, there is some good news. I spoke to Jason and it seems his plans were far more tentative than thought at first and apparently those plans have fallen through now and he is able to come to New Orleans after all. He was rather ambivalent about it though. He believes you do not want him to go with you. I told him you prefer that he accompany you, as he is your assistant. And so then he finally had to agree to it.”

There was only silence on Augere’s end.

“Okay, then. I will make the travel arrangements for you both to fly on the 23rd. Do you prefer a hotel……?……Or will the cottage be suitable……?……Okay……well, I’m looking forward to seeing—”

The phone clicked, and then silence.

“Okay, then.” Genier sighed as he hung up. And then he smiled.

****

11:10 p.m. local time Boston∼

Jason tried calling Augere again. The phone rang ten times before Augere picked up.

“Mr. Augere, I am so sorry—I had my phone silenced by mistake—I never do that!—and I see I missed several of your calls. Did you need me for something?” What a lame excuse. His voice sounded shaky. Hesitant. Guilty.

There had been no verbal response when the phone was answered and a long and heavy silence sat between them.

Finally Augere spoke.

“I needed you to pick up some magazines for me if you went out.” The words were delivered in a tense monotone. Sometimes he did ask Jason to do things like that.

“Yes—I’ll go and try to find what you want now; just tell me what you need—” It is too late to find magazines now. Why am I even saying this?

“It hardly matters now.” There was a distinctly icy edge to those words. Then there was a loud click as the call ended.

“Okay, then…” Jason said to dead air and then hung up.

I think maybe I should go and be with my family after all, Jason thought. Yep. I think Minnesota might be just the thing for me right now. This really was not my fault. Somehow I just got caught up in the middle of this. I should call Genier back tonight, right now, and tell him I can’t do this.

But it was already done. Vacillating was not an option right now. Ambiguity and ambivalence and not getting it right would just make everything worse. He was just going to have to deal with it.

Once they got to New Orleans, he would step into the background. Let Genier take the stage and deal with Augere. That way he couldn’t cause Augere any more aggravation. That was the last thing he needed to do.

He just had to get through another couple of days, just get through the weekend, and then on Wednesday they would leave for New Orleans. It would be the third time this year they had been there together, and each time had meant a life-changing event for Jason.

I just hope and pray that this time everything will still be good for all of us.

He was too anxious for sleep just yet. His mind was unsettled with too much tension and worry.

I’m going to avoid him as much as possible for the next few days. Stay out of his way completely; I won’t even seek him out for any reason. He could not allow anything to happen that could cause any more tension or create any more stress between them. That decision helped to put his mind at ease a little, but he still perseverated and couldn’t sleep.

If he simply didn’t see Augere or talk to him there was far less risk he would annoy or irritate him further… He tried to get comfortable; plumped his pillows and changed his position several times. It wasn’t like he saw him all the time anyway. Hardly ever in fact. This should be easy. His last waking thought before drifting into a troubled sleep was: How hard could it be to just not see him or talk to him, to avoid having any interaction with him at all for the next few days…?

Chapter 27

Carrie

“Hi, Jason! It’s Mom! We’ve got a big surprise for you!”

“Mom…? Hi…?” Jason had forced one eye open in response to the ringing cell phone on his bedside table. His clock read 9:22 a.m., Thursday. He was groggy, his voice was hoarse, and though he usually was awake by now, he wasn’t ready to be awake just yet.

“I didn’t wake you up, did I?” his mom asked.

“No,” he lied. “What’s up?”

“We kept telling her she should have called you first, but she wanted us to wait until she was on the plane, and then have us call you. She wanted it to be a surprise.”

“Who?” he asked sleepily, his head now resting back on his pillow, alongside his phone, as he closed his eyes. He was really tired. A few more hours of sleep would be…

“We just dropped Carrie off at the airport, and waited until she got on the plane. We’re on our way home now. She was so excited! We were a little worried about her traveling all that way by herself—but she insisted. She’s been saving money from her job and she still had the money you sent her for her birthday—she said she was getting tired of waiting for an invitation from you and—”

“Wait a minute!” Jason sat bolt upright. “You’re not saying Carrie is—on her way here—right now?”

As his mom began to provide the flight details, Jason’s mind raced. He only half heard what his mom was saying. Carrie? Coming here? Now…? No…no…

“…so she’s expecting to be picked up at the airport…I told her you might be working, but then you did tell us your hours are flexible—she won’t have to wait long at the airport, will she? I know, she’s sixteen now, but your dad and I would worry…”

Jason heard her but he couldn’t respond yet.

“Jason?”

“Yeah…Mom.” He asked her to repeat all the flight information again as he frantically searched the bedside table for a pen. She’s got to go back…she’ll just have to get right on the next plane and go—

“Mom, how long is she planning to stay? Because, you know, work, and stuff, and I really—”

“Just a long weekend; a couple of days. She’s only missing two days of school, but they are almost done for the holiday recess anyway—”

He didn’t hear the rest. Three hours. Probably a little more, until she would be at the airport…this was terrible—this was really bad…he really would like to see her, to have her here in Boston…they could have such a really great time and he could use a friendly distraction right now…no, no this cannot happen…she would be upset of course. But she couldn’t stay. She could not be here. She had to go back. This was not a good time…

He was off the phone with his mom now, and headed to the shower—no!—no time! He had to get dressed, get to the airport—no! If he went by cab, it would be a slow and expensive taxi ride in traffic. And the subway—that could take him too long also.

She had saved up her own money! Well, it couldn’t be helped. He would pay her fare back, at least. She was really going to be mad. Worse—she just wouldn’t understand. She would think he had something to hide. Which he did.

If I send her home, I’ll never hear the end of it. That tenacity of hers—she would become more determined than ever to find out what was going on—and she just couldn’t find out.

Think…think! What are my options? Maybe I could just run somewhere and—hide…no. She knows my address. And she would come to the door—and guess who might answer the doorbell—oh, no. That cannot happen. No.

If she comes here she will want to stay with me. Well of course, where else. And that would be a total disaster. He was so absorbed in those thoughts he forgot he had decided to forego the shower, but now having gotten in he distractedly turned the cold water on himself, and then jumped out a moment later, his wet hair dripping in his eyes, gasping from the shock. He tried to pull clothes on over his wet skin at the same time he was fumbling with his laptop. I could find a hotel; keep her there until I can get her on a flight—or just have her stay there!—or…maybe I could check myself into a hospital—claim some mysterious malady—check myself in? It’s not like a hotel… He sat down, half dressed, staring at his computer screen. “Okay. Look. You have to calm down. Think of something.”

He took a deep breath. Okay. Hotel. Maybe I should do that…find a hotel; we can both stay there. She never has to see the house. I could take her around, show her a fun time in Boston, and then get her on the plane home…Okay…okay. Maybe.

He started checking hotels in downtown Boston. What the heck is going on in town this weekend? The rooms available were quite expensive. He could afford it, but really, was it necessary to pay several hundred per night? He started looking a little farther out of town.

She wasn’t going to be happy with this arrangement. She would want to see where he lived. Check out the house and the neighborhood. It was a shame really. He had such a nice place; he really would like to show it off. The beautiful house in one of the best neighborhoods in a great city. It’s too bad she can’t see it…I wonder if I could leave her alone at the hotel? Would it be safe? Well, no; he’d have to stay with her, of course. Not that she would really be afraid. But it just wouldn’t be right. Hopefully he would not have to go back and forth much, if at all. He had wanted to avoid Augere anyway—well, this would do it. He would have his cell phone, in case he was needed. This might actually work. Of course, he was going to have to rent a car now.

He was still having trouble finding a hotel, even twenty miles out of town. He glanced at the clock. He really had to get moving with this.

He would have to rent a car at the airport…that crazy kid! He did admire her fortitude, pulling a stunt like this. It was so Carrie. He laughed. Yeah, well, he would prefer to admire those brazen qualities under different circumstances just now.

He got cash and his credit cards ready and then went back to his computer. I would have found some way for her to come and visit, he thought to himself, feeling a little guilty now. There wasn’t likely to actually be a convenient time, not ever though. Not unless Augere happened to be out of town for a while, alone, someday.

He really needed coffee right now. No time to make some. He would have to get some on the way.

Who would have thought it would be so difficult? Some hotels could only book one or two nights; some only had king sized bedrooms available. He finally found something nearly twenty-five miles out of town. He would definitely need a car. Time was running out. There wasn’t more time to think things through. Would he be able to get a car at the airport without a reservation? Maybe, but should he chance it? He might have to take a taxi from the airport, to the hotel, then go back later to get a rental car…or—maybe…he could borrow Augere’s car. Jason didn’t abuse the privilege and Augere had never said no. But why did it have to be now that he had to make this request, of all times? Just when things were a little tense between them. Just when Jason needed to avoid him. But there was no more time to waste. He had to do it.

I’ll just call him on his cell phone. He didn’t know the number by heart yet. They had both gotten new numbers since the London incident. But the number was programmed into his phone.

I’ll just say I need the car for a few hours, if it’s okay, and then I’ll be on my way. Figure out the rest later.

The call went to Augere’s voice mail. Which Jason suspected Augere rarely checked. Deep sigh. He was going to have to speak to him in person. Right now.

He went to Augere’s door and stood outside of it for a few minutes. He didn’t want to do this. He had not once ever needed to ring the bell outside of Augere’s door before. He stepped forward and rang it now, hesitantly. He waited. And then waited some more. He was conscious of time pressing. He had to get going. Then he pressed the doorbell again, a little more insistently. The door opened quickly. Augere stood in the doorway, silently intimidating. His expression was nearly as dark as the view of the room behind him, with the door opened barely ajar. He looked at Jason without saying a word.

“I’m sorry—to bother you—something has come up and I was wondering if I could borrow the car for a few hours?”

Augere’s inscrutable gaze looked him over. Then, very slowly and deliberately, Augere turned his head to the hall table outside his door. Jason’s gaze slowly followed his.

Now Jason saw a note on the table. He hadn’t even thought to look for one before. Today was Thursday, their normal meeting day. Oh, fuck. Were we supposed to have a meeting now?

A note usually meant no meeting. Or instructions for Jason to perform some task. Jason walked over to the table and picked up the piece of ivory note paper and read: “No meeting today. Take the car for scheduled maintenance.” The car did need an oil change. Damn. He hadn’t had to bother him at all. Jason nodded in Augere’s direction and looked up in time to see the door closing with a little more force than seemed necessary. Jason winced.

He checked the time on his cell phone. It was now 10:30. If only I had thought to check first. If I was trying hard to be a terrible assistant, I couldn’t be doing a better job of it.

Jason got the car and left for the airport, getting coffee as he pulled into a McDonald’s parking lot and used his laptop to continue searching for a hotel. Finally he had success, and made the reservation. He got to the airport and parked barely in time for the arrival of Carrie’s flight.

After the hugs, some half-hearted scolding, and more hugs and laughter they went to collect her luggage. She had one large suitcase and a large carry on. This is only for the weekend, right? He wondered. “Wait, there’s one more,” she said. Then he recognized it as his own; he had left some of his luggage and stuff in Minnesota before taking off for New Orleans. He was glad she had thought to bring it for him.

“Yeah, well you left in kind of a hurry there.” She was already eyeing him suspiciously.

“I was going to ask Dad to ship it to me.”

“Oh, so you really weren’t planning to come home for Christmas then?”

“Why do you say that?”

“You mean—you are coming home for Christmas?”

“Well, I was thinking about it.”

“So you still might be coming home?”

“Well, I wanted to…”

Carrie sighed. “Well, are you or aren’t you? Because you left all of us with the impression that you weren’t.”

He had no recollection of that. If anything, he would have had to end up back in Minnesota, and would be there now in fact, if things hadn’t gone the way they did in New Orleans.

“What do you mean?”

“When Mom and Dad kept dropping those hints about your Christmas plans…hmmm?”

“They did?” He asked with surprise.

She nodded. “And you kept saying ‘I’m not sure’ or ‘Maybe…’ or ‘I don’t know yet.’”

“I did?”

Carrie’s facial expression was one of exasperation. “That’s why I came to see you. Because it looked like you weren’t coming home for Christmas, and maybe you just didn’t want to come out and say it. Besides, I wanted to see Boston.”

“So—are Mom and Dad upset?” They had started moving toward the short term parking lot with luggage in tow.

“Well, they were discussing it over dinner one night. Then Evan said that if you weren’t coming home—he wanted to go to with his girlfriend’s family to their winter cabin, and well, then Mom started crying. Because ‘nobody’ was going to be home for Christmas.”

“Oh, no.”

“Yeah. Then Dad said well, maybe, just this one year, if we won’t all be together, we could do something different, and then all get together again next year.

“And then Mom said ‘like what?’ She wasn’t happy, I can tell you. And, well, to get to the point—Mom and Dad and I are going on a cruise over Christmas and New Year’s.”

“What? So no one is even going to be home? I can’t believe you all made plans without me.”

Carrie stopped walking and stared at him. “Because you wouldn’t commit to coming home!”

They continued walking. “Well, I have to go to New Orleans with my boss anyway.”

“So then what difference would it—wait, didn’t you just go there to meet him—?”

They were in front of the car now, and Carrie paused to express her approval. “Nice ride, Jason! Is this yours?”

“No. I just get to drive it.”

“Pretty, pretty good. Totally cool.”

As they drove away from the airport, he told her he had to stop to get the oil changed. They dropped the car off, and then walked to a restaurant next door to get lunch. He broke the news to her about needing to stay at a hotel and the pouting began immediately.

“But I want to SEE where YOU live! That’s the whole point! I want to hang out with you at your place; cook for the two of us. I promised Mom and Dad I would take lots of photos of your place. YOUR place. I don’t need to take photos and have memories of my stay at some Day’s Inn.”

“I understand that. But it is a really nice hotel. Big screen TV; an indoor pool; breakfast is included—”

“None of that is important!” She pouted. “I pictured the two of us in your place—whatever it looks like.”

“But the thing is—it is really my boss’s house. And you didn’t even give me time to bring up the idea to him. I can’t just invite people into his home.”

“People? I’m family. And I thought you had your own, you know, your own place. So how would he even know?”

“He just—would.”

“What kind of doofus jerk won’t even allow you to have your family come and stay with you for a few days?”

Jason had never been a whiner. He totally despised people who were whiners. But he suddenly felt a whine coming on. He considered just giving it a go. Try it out. He gazed out at the busy traffic rushing past on Route 1A and imagined himself whining.

“It’s not like that—”

“Is that the reason, really? Or is there some reason you don’t want me to see where you live…? Is it, you know, a little less, like maybe kind of disappointing—to you?—because you know you never have to worry about stuff like that with me—”

“No. That is not it. Not at all. My boss is one of those people who really just likes and needs his privacy. He just would not be comfortable with people he doesn’t know staying at his house.”

She pulled the dreaded cold shoulder/pout combo out of her arsenal. A cold breeze blew over him and he shivered a little suddenly. She was already growing sullen. He knew that look all too well. She’d lived before, he suspected, and in previous lifetimes armies of fierce men had been ambushed, struck down, and lay crumpled at her feet, with just that one look.

“Look—” he began with forced cheerfulness, “we can still have a really great time. I’ll show you around, take you to some great places; we can eat out every day.” He prattled on, trying to put a positive spin on the bad situation. It wasn’t going over well.

“Am I even going to see where you live?” she asked with a sullen look.

Jason imagined doing a quick drive by, pointing out the place as he sped off, and almost laughed out loud. He stopped himself when he knew Carrie would fail to see any humor there. He wanted to shake his head no. It seemed like such a normal, simple request but it was just impossible. Was he overreacting? Seeing problems where there were none? He didn’t think so. After all, this was Carrie sitting in front of him. She couldn’t get a look at Augere. If that were to happen, he would be done for. Game over. She would know something was up with him.

“Sure, maybe. I would just need time to arrange some things first…”

“So—what you’re saying is—not today?”

“Right.” He nodded. Not ever, he meant.

The dark cloud returned, settling over her features. He really did not like the look of this.

“And it’s all because of this boss of yours?” She didn’t wait for a reply. “He must really be a freakin’ monster,” she said with a sneer. “I’d love to tell him a few things—”

“Okay, well, shall we get going? Car’s ready by now.”

Carrie waited in the car while Jason registered at the hotel. Then she walked around their hotel room surveying the pleasant but predictable décor; a table and two chairs; a small sofa. A very pleasant room actually. She switched the TV on and sat on the bed with a heavy sigh. She looked at him with a sad and fixed sullen expression.

“Uhm, okay. I’m going to let you get settled in while I take the car back, in case my boss needs to use it, and then I’ll rent us a car for the weekend. I’ll get some of my things and I’ll be right back. Then we can go out.” He gave her a smile. Then his expression became serious and concerned. “Be sure to keep the door locked.”

He was upset and guilty but tried not to show it as he left her sitting there on the bed looking miserable and forlorn.

He drove back home in a pensive mood. Maybe he could find one of those car rentals that came and picked you up. He had completely forgotten to check into rentals at the airport, caught up in the moment with Carrie’s arrival.

I can’t believe my family made holiday plans without me. But, then, I guess it is my own fault. I was so distracted with my own misery I didn’t even know what was going on around me. He had managed to leave them all with the impression he was ambivalent, or had already decided, about returning home again.

He parked the car in the garage and then found Augere sitting in the library. He did not look up as Jason entered. Jason stood at the desk, waiting for Augere to acknowledge him. It was several long moments before he did so, with a slow glance upward.

“The car is back in the garage. Oil is changed.”

Augere nodded once. A frost hung in the air between them.

“I’ll have my phone with me, if you need to reach me and it might take me just a little longer to get here but I will come as soon as possible.”

Augere gave him a wary look. “Why? What do you mean?”

“It’s just for a few days.” Jason was nodding in reassurance. “I won’t be far. I can get back here in thirty minutes, or less probably.”

“From where?”

“I just need to be at a hotel for a few days, but I will have a rental car so it should not be a problem at all. It will be okay.” As soon as the words were out of his mouth—he wasn’t sure how or why but he just knew—there was going to be some kind of vampire trouble.

“Hotel…rented car…why?” Augere asked with a stern expression, his eyes narrowed in angry suspicion.

“It’s just—it’s a personal—something came up. It’s nothing serious, really. No cause for concern.”

“There is more,” Augere said after regarding him for a few moments.

“Uh…well—” How much should he say? As little as possible, probably. “A family member showed up here unexpectedly. We are at a hotel.” Jason felt even that was too much information.

“As opposed to staying here with you?”

“Yes. It’s fine. Well, I have to get going—”

“How many? Who is it?”

“Pardon?” Jason had been about to turn and leave.

Augere made no comment but continued to regard him with a stern expression.

“One.”

“Is it because of me”—Augere paused a moment, looking at Jason intently—“that you are uncomfortable to have someone stay here?” His lips were pressed tightly now, his brow furrowed. He seemed—annoyed. Bothered. That darkness, again.

Well of course it is because of you. I can’t have my dangerously inquisitive and extremely determined sister running around the house with an alluring vampire on the premises. Finding out a secret that could get us both killed.

“I’m not saying that,” was Jason’s reply.

“Then why?” Augere demanded.

“Okay, really, I just didn’t want to disturb you. It would not seem right. This is your house.”

“You live here also.”

“Yes, but it is your home. I was concerned for your privacy. I shouldn’t just invite people here, at any time.”

“People? It is your family.”

Jason stared at him for several moments. I can’t believe this. It’s like the two of them are double teaming me.

“Yes, but still.”

“I can be absent, if that is your concern.”

“No, no. You can’t do that.”

“I assure you I can,” Augere said with some surprise. “Have you not noticed my absence?”

“No, I mean it’s your house. You should not have to leave your own house.”

“I do not intend to.”

“Well, you shouldn’t have to hide out then.”

“I do so all the time,” Augere replied solemnly.

Jason tilted his head slightly; he had a tight kink in his neck now. His back was starting to hurt too. Stress. He frowned, looking past Augere, as nervous tension began to take hold throughout his body.

“Is it your mother?”

“No.”

“Your father?”

“No.” Jason was picking up Augere’s taciturn ways.

“Do not make me guess,” Augere said sharply.

“My sister,” Jason blurted his quick reply.

Augere paused to reflect. “You have…a younger sister—she is…eighteen…”

“Sixteen.”

“You are planning to have a sixteen-year-old child stay alone in a hotel room?” Augere looked incredulous.

“No. Nope. No, not at all. And she’s very mature for her age. I’ll be there with her—most of the time—I’m on my way back there right now—unless you need anything while I’m here—?”

Augere’s expression was inscrutable.

“—she really hasn’t been alone that long. It won’t take me long to get back there or to return here if you needed something.“ He just wanted to end this discussion and leave now.

“She is there already?”

He nodded. “I only found out a few hours ago she was on her way here. She did this on her own. This was the best solution, with such short notice. I did not want to intrude on you. It will be fine, really. It’s just for a few days. It can’t be otherwise: what if she were to find out—then what? We both know I cannot allow that to happen.”

A sad, almost wounded look seemed to settle on Augere’s features.

“That is not going to happen,” he said very softly. “She will not…see me.”

Jason was relieved. Augere completely understood. Thank goodness. This really was the best solution, for all concerned. Augere knew it himself. Everything was going to be okay. Manageable.

“You must go and fetch her and bring her here.”

Jason quickly looked up at him, stunned.

“No—no! She can’t. You don’t understand. She will find out. She will be curious. She will want to meet you. She is extremely tenacious. Even as a child, she was able to—no. No.” He shook his head. “She will be fine at the hotel. Seriously.”

“And will your parents be fine with that?” Augere over-emphasized the significant word.

Jason pictured the expressions on his parents faces when they learned—and they would—that their daughter was, and might continue to be, for indeterminate intervals, alone in a hotel room in a suburb of Boston. Carrie would call and be sure to mention it. Maybe she had done so already. His mom could be calling him any moment now. He mentally began to rehearse his speech: ‘but Mom, she has a learner’s permit and a job. She’s old enough to be alone for a little while…to babysit herself…’

“I thought not,” Augere said in response to Jason’s silence. “What if something happened to her?”

Jason shook his head. I have to win. I can’t let him beat me down on this. I can’t let him force this on me.

“Go and fetch her and bring her here.” The authoritative voice suggested an end to the discussion.

No. He can’t do this. Jason sighed.

“But, Mr. Augere, really—”

“This discussion is ended,” Augere said sternly as he stood abruptly and then exited the library, leaving a stunned Jason standing at the desk.

I really think I would prefer to be between a rock and a hard place, than between that vampire and my sister. This will be a disaster of titanic proportions.

If he went back to the hotel, and forced her to fly back home—no matter how long he lived, he would probably never be able to undo that damage. Not with her, not with the rest of his family. They weren’t mean and vengeful people; far from it. But they might just turn on him and blame him for the eventual family Christmas that wasn’t. And it would look to them like he had changed and become mean spirited, uncaring and selfish. Toward Carrie; toward all of them.

And if he defied the vampire? Simply refused to let her come to the house? At the least his relationship with Augere could become even more strained and uncomfortable than it was now. Or things might come to an abrupt end. Maybe in more ways than one. Who knew what could happen.

And if things would never be good between the two of them ever again, then what would be the point of staying? This was horrible. The situation depressed him now and made him feel trapped. He looked for some spark of hope to light his way out of this.

Augere said she would not see him. Did that mean he was really leaving the premises—? Or that he would just be as absent as if he really were not there? Jason hoped for the former. Because it was the best choice. The safest one, surely. Augere needed to be gone for this to work.

I don’t think you’re allowed to just volunteer to go into hiding, into—say, the witness protection program, Jason speculated. They would probably become really suspicious as to why “I just wanted to join up.” And they probably aren’t the kind of people who could accept “I really can’t go into it” as a reason. Jason rubbed his forehead and his temples.

Back in the car on his return to the hotel, Jason now lacked any confidence in the arrangement. He kept thinking: this isn’t happening…this isn’t happening…you’re having a bad dream…wake up, Jason…

“Well, Carrie, I had a chance to speak to my boss,” he said as he entered the hotel room, finding Carrie exactly as he had left her. “Apparently, he is going to be away for most of the weekend, and so he sort of indicated it might be okay if you came and stayed at the house.”

“Woot!” she said, jumping up and hugging him tightly. “Awesome! Let’s go!’

They put all her stuff in the car and then Carrie accompanied him to the front desk so he could check out.

The two clerks at the desk, a fortyish woman and a guy about Jason’s age, looked them over, and the guy smirked at him. Puzzled, Jason took a quick glance at Carrie as the woman checked for incidental charges. Even in her tough punk attire, Carrie managed to look the picture of youth and innocence. Then the woman gave him a slightly disapproving look as she handed his credit card back to him. And then Jason realized what they must be thinking: they had only had the room about two hours. It must have appeared this was some illicit meeting, with an underage girl. The sudden realization of their probable suspicions angered him. As they were about to leave, he thought of turning around and offering the unneeded and undeserved explanation: “She’s my sister!” But he caught himself in time when he realized if they truly did believe him, how much worse that would make the assumed tryst seem: and the dirty looks and raised eyebrows would be that much more. He just wanted to get out of there.

Carrie commented again on the luxury and comfort of the car. Already her mood had improved dramatically.

I still have to rent us a car though, Jason thought. It will just make things easier. Augere will have access to his own car, and I won’t have to interact with him again. Besides, I’ll need to have access to a car, in case I have to make a quick getaway—like, over the border to Canada…

“So—your apartment—it’s in this building?” She asked as they pulled up to the refined, elegant two story home on Beacon Street. He nodded as he pulled into the garage and they entered the house through the kitchen. “I don’t get it,” she said as they emerged into the large foyer. “This looks like just one big house.”

“It is,” he stated as they proceeded to the entrance to his quarters. As they entered, she stopped, staring all around and taking in the view of his large living room. Then she ran from room to room, exclaiming how much she loved this and that.

“A fireplace! Does it really work? I love this great little room with the bay window!”

He trailed behind as she dashed out the French doors in his bedroom, entering his private patio area and then checking out the rest of the large patio that encircled the house, bare as it was in early winter. She came back into the house and fished her camera out of her bag and then dashed around the apartment again, taking photos of everything that caught her interest in every room.

“Oh my god, this is so cool! I just love this place! I could totally live here. Damn, Jason—your living room is huge but practically empty!”

He nodded. “I found I just liked having some empty space for the first time in my life—after always being so crowded.”

“Oh…yeah. I get it. Wow, you must really love it here.”

He nodded again, smiling. “It’s great. Look—you can sleep in my room; I have a sofa bed in the other bedroom, or I can take the couch if I want.”

She shook her head. “I’m going to be here for four nights, Jason. We can switch back and forth.”

“Oh—four nights.” He hoped that didn’t come across as sounding as dismayed as he felt.

“I know—but I can’t stay longer.” She misinterpreted his sentiment. “We have to be on the plane to Fort Lauderdale a week from today, and Mom said I have to be home by Monday night to help her pack for the cruise. As if it would take us four whole days to pack.”

“No, seriously. You take the big bedroom. More privacy and more comfortable for you,” Jason assured her.

While she settled in and freshened up Jason made calls about a rental car. He arranged to have one pick them up the next morning.

“Okay,” he announced. “I know you have never ridden the subway before, so we will do that first. It is just a few stops from here to Copley.”

They wandered around Copley Square and Newbury Street, into different shops that caught her eye. She took lots of pictures, and he was enjoying just being with her and feeling her excitement. Eventually they made their way to Government Center and then to Faneuil Hall Market.

“Wow! What is this place called again? I’m so glad you brought me here.” She wandered into every little booth or store that drew her interest. She had some money of her own, but Jason would not let her spend any of it. He was glad to buy her the few things she wanted—a skull patterned scarf, a Boston T-shirt, a leather and silver bracelet—and would have spent more if she had let him.

They wandered through the extensive food court with its seemingly endless variety of delectable things to eat and made many small purchases of treats to take home and enjoy later: stuffed mushrooms, bagels, cannoli and cupcakes and candy apples—more junk food than either of them would eat in months. Jason realized now he had very little food at home; they would need to go grocery shopping. In the meantime, Chinese food was selected for dinner and they found a place to sit in the crowded dining area.

“I am really loving Boston so far. It is kind of different from what I expected. But it’s so cool.”

Jason nodded, expertly using his chopsticks to savor bites of lemon chicken.

“I’ve got to start applying to colleges, you know. I was hoping I might see some while I’m here,” she said, biting into a large shrimp and talking with her mouth full. “There are a couple of really good creative writing programs at several schools here. Remember how we talked about me applying to colleges in Boston? And you told me how much you had liked going to school here. I’ve been thinking about that ever since.”

Jason’s chopsticks were paused in midair. A morsel of shrimp he had speared from Carrie’s plate fell from his chopsticks onto his own plate a moment later, escaping his notice.

Now he did recall that forgotten conversation. Back in February. He had raved to her about Boston, and had practically sold her on the idea of going to college here. But all of that was from his other life: pre-Augere. Things were different now. She couldn’t come here, not to go to school. Not to live here. He looked at her in silence, thinking.

“Of course,” she continued, “I wouldn’t want to cramp your style. I mean, I’d be going to school—and hopefully dating, but we could still get together sometimes for meals; hang out together”—she gestured with her chopsticks —“I could come over and do laundry; we could watch movies together and I could cook for you. It would be so great, Jason!”

All of the full implications of her being here, and all the complications—hadn’t even occurred to him yet. He hadn’t been able to see past his immediate concern of her just being here briefly, never mind being here all the time. That would be extremely difficult for him. No. That would be impossible.

Somehow, he thought, I have to show her around, have fun, have a really good time together and let her see all the great things the Boston area has to offer—an experience that I can help to provide and one that she deserves—and then I have to convince her to never want to come here again. Not to go to school; not to live here and to barely, if ever, come to visit him. He sighed heavily as he set his chopsticks down. The food was very good but suddenly he wasn’t very hungry anymore.

They had ordered way too much food, and Carrie got several take out containers and two plastic bags so they could pack up the rest to take home.

They took the subway to the Prudential Center and arrived at the Skywalk just as the last light of day faded over the city and the city lights and the stars became visible. They lingered there a while enjoying the views, each lost in their own thoughts: Jason, pensive; Carrie quietly content and peaceful.

They took a taxi home, as the evening had grown colder and they now had multiple packages to carry, arriving back at the house around 8:30. Jason made a pot of tea for them as Carrie selected among the treats they had bought for their evening snack. They ate in the living room while an old movie was showing on TV, but they were more involved in their conversation than with the TV’s entertainment.

“So what is it that you do, exactly, Jason? I know you kind of told us, but the answer just didn’t stick in my mind.”

He was finding this a difficult question to answer. He really needed to come up with a pat response to satisfy the curious.

“There are some scheduled routine things that I do. Like the car maintenance today for one. And then there are other tasks that come up. Like with traveling. The responsibilities can vary.”

She seemed to buy that. Or maybe she was just more intrigued by other aspects of the job. “You get to travel to London and Paris…and New Orleans! Venice! Oh, I really want to go there someday, to all those places! Are there other trips planned?”

“I don’t know, yet.”

“Is it a drag traveling with that boss of yours? Are you stuck with him all the time, doing things for him or just doing stuff he wants to do or do you get to have some time to yourself?”

Jason almost said “he pretty much leaves me alone” but then realized she might ask “then why does he even need you there?” He was finding he had to choose all of his words very carefully.

“I get a fair amount of free time.”

“And when you travel—your boss pays for everything?”

He nodded.

“And he owns this big house?”

Another nod.

“So, like, he must be really rich then…how did you ever find this job?…what kind of person is he, really? Is it tough working for him?”

Jason was starting to feel uncomfortable discussing Augere, even in vague terms.

“What—kind…?” He shrugged. “He’s okay.” A woefully inadequate comment. It would have to do though. Now she seemed to be waiting for more info. “He can be difficult to work for at times. You know.” He shrugged. “Like any job where there is a boss, I guess.” Really, Jason?

“And where does he live exactly? Is it upstairs? This looks like a really big house—there is an upstairs, right? I’ve only seen a small part of it—can I see the rest of it now?”

The very thought of that made him nervous.

And yes, from the outside, it would appear the house did have a second floor. Except there didn’t actually seem to be one. Certainly there was no visible access. The view from outside had to be just a façade; an illusion of more space. At least that was what Jason had come to believe.

“My boss has his own quarters, of course. Very private. There will be time to look around, later. You have all weekend. It’s already kind of late. We shouldn’t be walking around, and making too much noise.”

“But—we are the only ones here, right? So who would care?”

Jason shook his head. “I mean, just in case he hasn’t left yet for the weekend.” He immediately regretted his choice of words; too late.

“Oh. So he could still be here then.” A gleam came to her eye.

“We should make a grocery list; we need to go shopping tomorrow.”

“Yeah, good idea.” She began to write things down on a sheet of paper he provided for her. He mentioned root beer, cheese, cereal, deli items. She added things of her own to the list.

“You know—except for all the junk stuff we bought to eat today—I mostly eat healthy, every day,”

She nodded. “Oh yeah, me too. Salad almost every day.”

“Yes. And fresh fruit and vegetables as often as possible.”

“Cutting out sugar.” She nodded.

“I even tried yogurt—can you believe it?”

She wrinkled her nose at him. “You?”

They were both silent for several moments.

“So—what—should we get to munch on for tomorrow night?” she asked. There was a brief pause.

“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” he asked.

“Would that be…pizza…loaded…? chicken wings?” She shrugged.

“Cheesecake…Dove ice cream bars…fried chicken…”

“Mint Oreos…potato chips and French onion dip… shots of whipped cream out of the can…”

They both laughed, as they recalled the evenings spent at home as kids enjoying such bizarre feasts. She began to add all of those favorites and more to the list.

“About our itinerary for tomorrow: once the car picks us up—I know you’ve never seen the ocean before—”

“—but I will—on the cruise!”

“Yes—but you have to see the north shore at least if we can’t get to the Cape. We’ll drive to Gloucester—there is a real castle we can visit, right near the water. We can go to Marblehead, and then spend some time in Salem…there is a lot to see and do there.” He realized how great he was making it all sound. Just what he needed not to do.

“Jason—you know all the really cool places to go—this is going to be so much fun!”

He nodded, feeling glum, but not wanting to show it for her sake.

They stayed up late, talking, laughing and eating, and occasionally watching parts of movies or TV shows. He was realizing how much he had missed just hanging out with her. Or with anyone.

She finally headed off to his room to sleep. He showered and then decided to make up the couch for the night. He was asleep right after he got comfortably settled.

The living room was much brighter than his wonderfully dark bedroom and he was awake early. He yawned, then plumped his pillows, and buried himself in them again to linger a little longer. He lay awake with his eyes closed, idly thinking.

He’d been angry—no, more upset actually—with Augere because of the decision to have Carrie stay here. It was a family matter, one Augere should not have been allowed to interfere with. Jason knew her, knew the risk involved. Augere did not. He was irritated at himself for not standing up to the vampire. But he had to bury his resentment. Part of him was happy she would get to see Boston; pleased she could see his place, and how well things were going for him. More especially, after his recent ordeal. She would report all his good fortune to the rest of the family. And he was glad to be the older brother who was able to provide her with this experience and be able to buy her things. Clearly she still looked up to him. He snuggled back into his pillow; ten more minutes; then he would get up. He wanted to get Carrie away from the house as soon as possible. Just in case.

Finally he rolled over, yawned and stretched. He got into the shower and was toweling his wet hair as he approached his bedroom door. I really should wake her up so we can get going. The door was ajar. She wasn’t there. He stared at the casually re-made bed.

He dressed quickly, trying to reassure himself everything was okay. Then he remembered—this was Carrie. A vague sense of panic began to creep up on him. He hurried toward the kitchen.

The aroma of brewing coffee greeted him in the foyer before he reached the kitchen, and as he entered, she was pulling slices of toast out of the toaster. She began to butter the slices and paused to look up and smile when she saw him.

She piled the toast onto two plates of scrambled eggs as he took a seat. She set a plate down in front of him and then poured them each a cup of coffee before sitting down to eat with him. They both ate hungrily for several minutes. It had been a while since anyone had made him breakfast, and then enjoyed it with him. Maybe that made it taste so much better this morning.

“You know what?” she asked him, after taking a sip from a large coffee mug she held in both hands. “I don’t think your boss has left yet. Either that, or someone else is in the house.”

Jason froze for a few moments, just long enough for a forkful of scrambled egg to fall back onto his plate. He speared it again.

“What makes you say that?” He hoped he sounded nonchalant.

“I got up late last night; I was really thirsty—and I came out to the kitchen. I found a can of Coke in the fridge—oh!—I took your last one—we need to put that on the list. And as I was coming back, I heard—I saw—that door across the big hallway from yours closing.”

Jason nodded. “Yeah, well, I think he was leaving early this morning.”

Carrie took another sip of coffee. “Well, I’m glad I didn’t run into him.” Jason was too. “Although everyone is really curious about this guy. Wanting details and all. Just in case I did get a chance to meet him.”

“That is pretty unlikely.” Jason sipped his coffee.

“For some reason I picture him as some old banker type dude. Suits and thick glasses. Kind of geek looking maybe.” She looked at Jason as if for validation. His expression remained inscrutable as he gazed at her for a moment, and then took a bite of toast, as if to ward off further comment.

“What else do you have to do to get ready?” he asked after a few moments. “The rental car will be here soon and I was hoping to get started early. Lots to see and do today!”

It seemed she was already fully dressed, with makeup on and goth accessories in place, and she confirmed she was ready. Jason could be ready in another ten minutes.

As she cleared the dishes, Jason’s ever present work cell phone rang. It was Augere.

“I have to take this call,” he announced to her and then left to return to his quarters. Once he was alone, with the door closed, he responded to the call.

“I returned late last night. I did not realize she would be up and prowling around.”

“I did try to tell you,” Jason said tersely.

“She did not see me.”

“She saw your door close. She knows you are here.”

“No. I am not.”

“You’re calling from somewhere else?” Jason’s voice carried a hopeful inflection.

“No. I am here. But she will not know it…” There was a long silent pause. “Someone is knocking at the door—”

“What?” Jason paused to listen. He heard nothing. He glanced at the closed door of his apartment. “No…there’s no one knocking…” he said to Augere. But the phone clicked off just then. Jason sat staring at his phone for several moments, puzzled. Why would he think there’s somebody…?

OH NO. He jumped up quickly and then ran out into the foyer.

There was Carrie, boldly knocking on Augere’s door. It seemed like everything happened in slow motion. He was moving toward her, believing he still had a chance to intervene because nothing had happened yet, while at the same time picturing and fearing the worst thing that could happen, which did happen then. Augere opened the door.

Carrie had already stepped back a little by then as Augere took a step out and stood in his doorway.

Carrie’s jaw dropped. She stood staring, taking in the full enchanting sight of him.

Why on earth would he open the door! He is not even supposed to be here! Damn it Augere! Damn it! Why would you do that?

And of course, Augere could not help but be just incredible looking right then. Dressed in slim black jeans and a black loose flowing shirt, casually open at the neck. Fit for a poet, or the cover of some romance novel, Jason thought with dismay. The dark waves of his hair framed the exquisite features and his large violet blue eyes appeared luminous, his skin even more pale in contrast. He wore black and silver cuffs on both wrists, and even to Jason, who was almost accustomed to seeing just such an appearance, he looked more radiantly beautiful than usual. Damn it. He could not possibly be a worse sight for Carrie to see.

“Hello.” He spoke tentatively, in a soft and mellifluous voice. Their eyes met and he was staring at Carrie with a somewhat nervous expression, which would have amused Jason to see, if he hadn’t been feeling so sick right then.

“Hello.” Carrie breathed out the word, her eyes slowly taking in every inch of him. At over six feet he and Jason were about the same height, but he seemed to particularly tower over her petite frame. Or maybe it was just the presence of him, seeming bigger than life.

“Who are you?” she gasped, rudely direct.

“Laurent Augere,” came the nearly whispered reply.

It seemed to take her a moment to process this. Then her eyes got wide.

“You?! You’re Jason’s boss? No…way…”

He nodded once, but somewhat hesitantly, as if not sure he should admit to anything.

“Damn!! Bite me!!”

“Whoa! Carrie! That expression!—it really has had its day, hasn’t it?” Jason had reached her now and already had hold of her arm, positioning himself somewhat between her and Augere as he began to try to drag her away. “The car is here! We really do have to get going; lots to do today. And Mr. Augere has got to get going too, don’t you?” he said pointedly to Augere.

Augere’s expression was a mixture of surprise, wonder, wariness and a trace of nervous amusement. He seemed at a loss.

The formidable vampire meets his formidable match, Jason thought for one bizarre instant.

“Yes,” Augere said softly as he backed into his quarters and then quickly closed the door. The sound of a dead bolt could be heard locking into place.

Carrie absently pulled free of Jason’s grasp and took a few steps toward the closed door. She stood transfixed.

“Oh, wow…oh, my god, wow…I can’t believe him…” The words were spoken like a prayer of thanks after a miracle. She could not seem to shake herself free from the spell of him.

“He’s…he is just so…I never expected…someone so…” She paused. “And did you see…past him…just behind him…?”

“Nope. Nothing. I did not see anything at all.”

“Yeah. That’s just it. Total darkness. Pitch black.” She seemed to come out of her trance for just a moment. “It was like he had just stepped out of a dark cave or something…this amazing creature…such an awesome being…”

Jason kept acting and talking just as if everything was normal and okay, while he already knew that probably nothing was ever really going to be normal and okay again.

“He’s so…he’s just so…” She seemed to struggle to find adequate words.

“He’s just a guy, Carrie. That’s all.”

She turned to look at him now and blinked several times. Her expression became one of visible annoyance. “Seriously? Are you kidding? Why didn’t you tell me? You let me think he was just some average old guy wearing frumpy suits—some old geek! You never said how totally good looking…how freaking beautiful he is—” She had a faraway look in her eyes now. “That voice…and those eyes…”

“He does wear suits.” Jason nodded, as if that could possibly make any difference now. “And I’m pretty sure I said ravishing. No—wait, maybe it was gorgeous. Yep. I’m pretty sure it was one of those.”

He wasn’t sure she was even hearing him now and maybe it didn’t matter what he said. She still had a faraway look in her eyes. A car horn sounded outside. That had to be their rental car, waiting for them.

“I don’t know about a suit,” she was saying with a dreamy expression, shaking her head slowly, “but I could totally see him in a long black velvet waist coat… a black and red brocade vest…” She fantasized as if speaking to herself. “So elegant…there is definitely just a totally gothic vibe there…so beautiful…”

“We have got to go. Now, Carrie.” He kept his voice calm and matter of fact, although he had almost added a begging “please” to the end of that sentence.

She didn’t look at him or respond. She continued staring raptly at the closed ornately carved black door, as if it were actually a temporary substitute for what her eyes really sought.

I have a door that looks exactly like that, Jason thought, except HE is not on the other side of it. The enormity of what had just occurred threatened to sink him. He didn’t dare let himself begin to imagine all of the implications just yet. He was clinging to the idea of minimizing the consequences of this; of somehow working some magical damage control. She had only seen him for a few moments, after all. He just had to make sure it never happened again. And then everything would be okay. Everything could go back to the way it was before. Right.

“Or, we could just hang around the house today,” Carrie said unexpectedly.

“No. We cannot. Besides, he is going to be leaving. And so are we. You came to see me, and to experience Boston, right?” He moved slightly, so he now stood between her and the amazing awesomeness of Augere’s closed door, blocking the view which continued to hold her full attention. She blinked then, and looked at him, a little startled.

“Salem? Marblehead?” he said to her. “The ocean, and the aquarium? All waiting for you,” he reminded her.

“Uh, yeah, okay.” The front doorbell sounded for a third time now, a little more insistently. And in a few minutes they were on their way. Once the rental car was officially theirs they headed out toward Gloucester.

He pointed out things of interest along the way. The bracing wintry air—which she loved as much as he did—could not deter their enjoyment of the ocean views and the quaint seaside towns of Swampscott, Marblehead, and then Salem, which Jason knew to save for last. Very soon she was her usual self again, at least on the surface, chatting excitedly and wanting to stop to take photos everywhere.

She was as enchanted with Salem as he knew she would be. They walked cobble stoned streets and stopped at numerous small shops that sold a variety of oddities, occult supplies, Salem souvenirs, books, T-shirts and everything to do with the history of the town. She took lots of photos. They visited The Black Cat book shop, which had a full size black casket in the center of the main room. They stopped for coffee and sandwiches at the Crypt Café, with its grey faux stone walls, gargoyles, skeletons and monster movies playing on a raised TV screen. They were saving their appetites for a big seafood meal they decided to have later, at the Barnacle restaurant in nearby Marblehead. He wanted to stop at Redlyn’s shop on Derby Street before they left Salem since she sold many of the things he thought would interest Carrie, but a sign on the door announced the shop was closed until January.

At a small Asian store she selected some trinkets and amulets as well as: a lucky cat; a small Buddha figure; some Salem magnets; a miniature Halloween tea set— she allowed Jason buy these for her, though she admonished him with a reminder she had her own money. She bought some books and small charms and jewelry items at several of the new age shops. They browsed a huge toy and collectibles store, and Jason bought some things for himself there. They both enjoyed the variety of esoteric things to see, many with an occult, humorous, or historical theme.

Carrie couldn’t decide between all of the many very different and totally cool Salem T-shirts available, so Jason urged her to buy several, which she did, at various locations. She bought a bat patterned scarf to add to the growing collection of one of her favorite accessories.

They went to the Salem Witch Museum and saw several attractions and exhibits related to the witchcraft trials. Carrie was very moved by what she saw and bought two books that dealt with the historical subject. She had wiccan leanings as did Jason and the exhibits were of significant interest to both of them. It was a perfect day, one which flowed easily from one thing to another, since both of them derived enjoyment from the same kinds of things.

They stopped for a late afternoon snack and a chance to warm themselves from the winter chill. From the Derby Seafood shop they each got a cup of the best corn chowder either had ever tasted, and had a cup of the most heavenly butternut squash and green apple soup as well. Carrie closed her eyes momentarily at the first taste of both soups; she couldn’t remember ever tasting anything so good. They each had hot cider also and shared a huge cranberry orange muffin.

“Jason, do you think I could go on some of your ghost hunts with you sometime? I would love to go on some paranormal investigations.” He was delighted at the prospect. Here was another thing they could share. He talked to her about the various haunted places in and around Boston and already imagined the two of them there.

“Fall is really the very best time here. The colors are just brilliantly beautiful. The October light especially is exquisite—everything seems to have a golden shine. The air has such a wonderful cold crispness then and seems filled with all the best smells: grapes on the vine, pumpkins and spices, apples and bonfires. I even love the damp smell of the leaves! And that is probably the best time to experience some of the ghost and graveyard tours and the haunted houses too—”

He stopped himself. What on earth was he doing? He was supposed to be discouraging her, not inviting her back again. He had gotten caught up in his own enthusiasm for what he loved and was vicariously enjoying now through her eyes. She was nodding enthusiastically. Already she had plenty of reasons to want to come back here. He was feeling slightly nauseated now. And Augere was likely one of those reasons already.

He half expected to have to fend off numerous questions about him throughout the day. At times she had a faraway look in her eye that probably had less to do with the immediate scenery and surroundings and more to do with Augere, he suspected. “The Augere stare.” He thought himself probably guilty of that faraway look more than a few times too when gazing at Augere.

But she was strangely silent about him. That made him a little uneasy. It wasn’t like her. Not that he needed to worry now. As far as she knew Augere would really be gone.

Instead she chatted about Boston, and Salem and all she’d seen. She asked questions about various places and historical events and seemed completely caught up in the moment.

They drove to Gloucester and toured Hammond Castle next, an actual large castle that had been brought from Europe and reassembled on the shore. There was a secret narrow winding staircase and a moat and it was the first time either had ever been inside a real castle. By the time they completed their visit, it was obvious the downtown aquarium would have to wait for another day.

Jason drove them to a large grocery store and Carrie pushed the shopping cart as they filled it with items from their list. Carrie made most of the food selections. Jason attempted damage control.

“You wouldn’t believe how very expensive it is to live here. And wait till you see how expensive it is to park the car, if you can ever find a spot! I was thinking we should take the T tomorrow instead of driving; then we won’t have to pay $22 an hour for parking and the subway will get us where we need to go—to the aquarium, etcetera…wow, look at these prices! Can you believe how expensive everything is?”

She made a face. “Shall I put some of this stuff back?”

“No! No…I’m just saying, you know, compared to other places, it is costly to live here.”

She nodded solemnly. “Don’t forget the Coke,” she pointed out as they passed a display. “I took the last one, remember?”

He nodded, placing a six pack of cans into the cart.

“Let’s see,” she said, looking over the list. “I want to make some casseroles for us. And I need the stuff to make Mom’s brownie recipe.”

Jason spent roughly three times the amount he usually did for groceries. Some of it was staples he did happen to need and the rest was stuff he and Carrie just wanted to have.

It was after 9 p.m. when they returned home; Jason had hoped to be able to squeeze the rental car into the garage.

He was relieved to see the other car gone; he left a space just in case. They each had to make several trips to get all the stuff into the kitchen. Jason wanted to get her back into his quarters; he did not want her to hear the car pull into the garage in case Augere did happen to return, which was not expected. Augere never used the kitchen entrance apparently, having his own set of car keys most likely and using his private entrance.

She insisted on making the brownies—now—saying they would not take long. Jason took some snacks and beverages to the living room. Despite all the stuff they had bought, they still decided to order a medium pizza and wings to be delivered and to share a large assorted sub sandwich they had bought. By the time the pizza had arrived, and he went to the kitchen to tell her, the brownies were already cooling. She had separated them into one large and one small plate and was waiting for them to cool a little more so she could cover them.

Suddenly she hugged Jason tightly and thanked him for the wonderful day and for all of the things he had bought her. He nearly teared up a little at the sudden display of her sincere gratitude.

She returned her attention to the brownies. “These are for him,” she said, putting plastic wrap over the small plate and writing his name—she asked Jason how to spell it—on a napkin. “To thank him for letting me stay here.” She had not mentioned him all day. Now it begins he thought.

“Oh, you shouldn’t bother really. He doesn’t seem to go for that kind of thing.”

“You know that no one can resist Mom’s brownies, Jason. And I make them as good as she does.”

He needed to keep her off the subject. He expected doing so was not going to be easy. The subject was out of the coffin now, so to speak, and he wasn’t going back in.

“Okay—let’s see what’s on TV.” With the choices being several TV shows they both hated, or holiday specials they had seen too often, their choice was a monster movies parody marathon.

They curled up at opposite ends of the couch. The coffee table in front of them was laden with all kinds of guilty pleasures. They both ate hungrily for a while, commenting on the fact that they hadn’t yet made it to the Barnacle for seafood. “We’ll go another time,” Jason promised, and then guiltily regretted the words. He kept slipping up and saying the wrong things: promises of more fun things to see and do. When she began looking at him quietly for several moments, he thought: here it comes. But it wasn’t what he thought.

“You do seem better, Jason. Than the last time I saw you. But something still isn’t right. You just seem so stressed. And a little sad even. I have to think it is probably that same situation you were dealing with when you came home.” She paused. “I know you always hold a lot inside. But I’m wondering how that situation went—did it ever get resolved?” Her sincere concern for his wellbeing touched him deeply.

They really were kindred spirits. She probably already understood him better, at her young age, than anyone might ever. She definitely possessed a wisdom beyond her years. And she seemed especially good at reading him; had the ability to draw him out, to bring his true feelings to the surface. But not this time. He just couldn’t risk it.

She hadn’t witnessed any real interaction between himself and Augere. Her keen perception would have picked up a tension between them. But even if she did—this was a “boss and employee issue,” as far as she was aware; there was bound to be some tension. So what. She could never begin to guess the true situation. Not with the little she knew or thought she did.

“I guess it is more resolved than it was. Maybe not perfectly, and it may never be. I have been coping with a lot lately I guess: moving, starting a new job; forming new relationships: I met someone new and we have been dating. I thought maybe we had drifted apart, still being new to the relationship, but we seem to be back together, with the potential to be better than before. But I still feel unsettled—about many things.” It was all mostly true, but not among the parties she might think. He was intending to describe his relationship with Zavi, but he knew: it just as easily described his other significant relationship too.

“Well, you don’t seem as bad as you were at home. I hated seeing you like that. You are my rock. You know you can share whatever is on your mind…you’re a strong person and you will always work things out, I’m sure.” She paused and looked around her. “You definitely want to keep this job …” She paused, a look of concern taking over her expression.

They finished off as much of the pizza and wings as they wanted, as well as all of the sub. There was easily enough food for a crowd of people. Jason would never dream of ordering this much junk food normally but it had seemed right somehow to share this experience with Carrie. A one-time splurge. She excused herself to go to “the office,” a family joke, and promised to bring back a warm cloth for him to wash his hands.

With her out of sight, he was able to drop his nonchalant façade for a while. It was the first real chance he had had to review the events of the day. What on earth made Augere open that door? Who did he think it could be? So much for Augere being “ten steps ahead of us” as Terrance had said. And what about what Carrie had said to him—for god’s sake! What if he had taken her seriously? No. He doubted that would have happened. But how did he know for sure? A darker thought crossed his mind now. What if Augere interpreted those words to mean Jason had told Carrie about him? And that Carrie’s innocent choice of words, just an expression as Jason knew it to be, was seen as proof of that knowledge ? Oh no… And why wasn’t she bombarding him with questions about him…? He reflected on that too. He felt like he almost had that figured out…the thought was right there—

“That has got to be the best bathroom ever! That cool stone shower! And I just now realized the towel bar actually warms the towels for you!”

He nodded as he took a damp warm hand towel from her and used it to wipe his sticky hands. And perspiration from his worried forehead.

They watched more TV and laughed loudly, getting pretty raucous at times. They joked about family stuff, a shared history of things that had happened. Carrie expertly and lovingly mimicked a teacher both of them had had in school, years apart, whom both of them had loved. They laughed at the movie parodies; they could finish each other’s sentences and both knew the lines to various movies so well they could say them in unison with the actors, which made for a new wave of hilarity. Jason couldn’t remember when he had laughed so much. It turned out to be one of the most fun evenings he had had in a long time.

Finally Carrie was yawning and couldn’t stay awake any longer. She headed off to Jason’s bed, declaring she would help clean up the littered coffee table in the morning. He made up the couch for himself, so he could stay up and watch more old monster movies on TV for a while.

He stretched out comfortably, watching an old black and white classic horror film. He was very sleepy now, but his thoughts would not let him rest.

Any irritation he’d had about Carrie springing this visit on him had already dissipated; he really was enjoying her company. He admired her willingness to sacrifice buying makeup, the goth CDs, magazines, clothes and accessories, just to be able to afford that plane ticket. He would see to it she got the money back. His eyes were getting heavy now. It wasn’t her fault there was a vampire in the house. That bizarre thought, and the image of Boris Karloff dragging his mummified body after his beloved Anksunamen across the TV screen made his own reality seem that much more surreal. His last waking thought as he drifted closer toward sleep—he had figured it out: she knew…she picked up on the fact that I was very upset that she saw him…that I needed to get her away from him as quickly as possible…that was why she didn’t ask any more… she is still puzzling that out…

Saturday morning was more overcast, grayer than the morning before. There was no bright light to awaken Jason this morning, so he slept in later, finally stretching slowly and yawning. He was tired enough to sleep some more; the dim light, comfortably warm covers and soft pillow invited him back to sleep. It was so peaceful and quiet.

Too quiet. Hadn’t he fallen asleep with the TV on? It had been on low volume but still…he rolled over slowly and opened one eye for a quick look. The TV was off. And the coffee table’s surface was clean. All of the food containers and sundry from the night before, gone. Carrie must be up, he realized, as he closed his eyes and snuggled back into his pillow, pulling the blanket up to his neck to enjoy another fifteen minutes or so of drowsy comfort.

A moment later, he sat bolt upright. She’s up! Not again! He dashed to the bathroom, then to his bedroom. No sign of her. He returned to the bathroom and performed minimal hygiene, grabbed some fresh garments and quickly pulled them on. Then he went to look for her. The library doors were open so he checked there first. Empty. I hope he’s gone. Please, please let him be gone. He headed for the kitchen.

There was Carrie, sitting at the small kitchen table holding a coffee cup in both hands. And there was Augere, sitting opposite her, with a cup sitting in front of him. Carrie was gazing intently into his eyes and they appeared to be conversing quietly.

Jason was pretty sure, that although he had never fainted before in his life, he was certain it was about to happen. It was not a very manly thing to do, he realized, but in that moment it seemed like a really good way to escape what he was witnessing. So he was actually pretty disappointed when that did not happen. Now he was going to have to deal with both of them, and with the situation he was witnessing. Maybe I am still asleep and just having this…nightmare.

He had no idea how to handle this. He very quickly compared it to other scenarios: being in a raft in shark infested waters; ascending Mt. Everest just as the last O2 tank went empty; plane crashing in the Amazon jungle just as night was falling: these were more easily dealt with predicaments, it seemed to him, than the one facing him now.

Somehow, someway, Carrie really had to be the one more responsible for this. But of the two of them, she was the more innocent; she did not know what was going on and what was at stake. Augere knew. He bore much of the responsibility for this as well. Jason was so furious with Augere he could not look at him. But just how safe was it to become extremely angry with the vampire?

Augere was avoiding eye contact with him as well.

As he should, Jason fumed. After he had insisted, against Jason’s better judgment, that Carrie be brought to the house and Augere had all but promised she wouldn’t see him, would not even know he was present—how could he let this happen? Was this some kind of cruel game to him? Jason struggled with his anger. This really was not the time to explode: no telling what the consequences of that might be.

“Look who I found in the early hours of the morning, in that library room.” She beamed at Jason. “I made him come and have some coffee with me.”

Jason could not speak.

She had turned halfway in her chair, to be able to see Jason better. “He really likes my shirt and I had to write down the website for him so he can order one.” She was wearing the same Poe T-shirt he had seen before, a shirt he had admired also. “I just knew it was something he would like.”

“Carrie…” He tried to keep his voice even. “I have been trying to keep you safe…and myself—and even protect Mr. Augere—and I am just not getting any cooperation here.” Jason’s tone was tense, the words sharply enunciated and spoken through his clenched jaw, with an undercurrent of desperation probably evident in his voice.

An awkward silence lasted several moments.

“Safe…? Safe from what?”

“Why don’t you ask him?” There was a palpable tension in the room now.

“Oh, Jason, for heaven’s sake! You don’t have to protect anyone! He has been a perfect gentleman. And don’t be mad at him! I had to literally drag him in here by taking hold of his sleeve. He did say ‘Your brother will not approve of this; he will be quite upset. He will rest the blame on me’—those were his exact words. And I told him either he comes with me to the kitchen and has some coffee or I would just have to bother him in the library. His choice.”

Now Jason stole a quick glance at Augere though no eye contact was made between them. Augere managed to maintain an expression of childlike innocence.

With her back partly turned to Augere now, she did not see him rise then and move toward the door in one fluid motion with a barely audible, “I must leave,” before she could launch a protest. She turned quickly and got just a glimpse of his back as he left the room and then she turned an angry look toward her brother.

“Jason! I think you really upset him!”

Jason’s eyes grew wide. “If I upset him, it is because HE knows how much he has upset me!”

Carrie titled her head, and furrowed her brow, narrowing her eyes, almost squinting for a moment as she looked at Jason.

“What exactly is going on between you two?”

“Nothing. Only that he’s my boss. And I told you—he can be very difficult. You can’t just intrude on him, order him around like that! Maybe he was just being polite to you, but that doesn’t mean he won’t have some harsh words for me!…He made an arrangement with me, and then he totally ignored it.” Jason hadn’t meant for that last bit of information to slip out.

She nodded her head slowly. “He told me. He wasn’t supposed to interfere in our visit. And I told him—well, Jason will just have to be mad at me too then.” She shook her head. “I think you have him all wrong, Jason.”

Jason couldn’t reply. What had Augere told her, exactly? He didn’t want to be angry with either of them. But how could it be helped?

She got up and poured him some coffee and brought it to the table. He wearily sat down and stared into the cup, his mood as black as the contents.

“We’ve just been sitting here for more than an hour, talking.”

Jason groaned silently. This was a disaster.

“There’s something…so…unusual…so different…about him.”

“No. No there really isn’t.” So it seemed she really didn’t know. Yet.

She looked at him in surprise. “Yes—there is. There just…is…” She seemed to be trying to find the words. “Something—”

“Nope. Not really.”

“—a kind of—sweet innocence…about him, for one thing.”

“What?—how do you mean?” Sweet innocence sounded comfortably far from vampire. But if she didn’t know already, the more she thought and talked about him, the closer she would get to the truth. He feared for her safety, and his own, if that were to happen. He was shaking at the thought. Had Augere mislead her somehow, into believing something else about him, far from the truth?

“Well—” she paused, laughing a little, “when we came into the kitchen, he just stopped and stared. Like everything was a surprise to him. He walked around, looking at the table and chairs, at all the appliances, touching different things, like it was all unfamiliar to him. I mean, I know most of the stuff in the fridge seems to be yours, so maybe he doesn’t use the kitchen that much, but still… He liked all your refrigerator magnets by the way—and I must say what a weird and impressive collection you have there. I had meant to tell you that too. And then he noticed all the little white cartons on the counter, from the Chinese food—and he asked what those were for. And when I told him he asked, ‘Why are you eating the Chinese people’s food?’ Which totally surprised me. So I told him how good it is and then I said, ‘Haven’t you ever tasted Chinese?’ And he got this strange expression for a moment and then he said with a kind of shrug, ‘In a manner of speaking, I suppose I have.’ Come on now—you have to admit—that’s a little weird!”

Jason took too big a sip of his hot coffee as he could feel himself becoming more anxious. Was Augere being deliberately…no…probably not. They sat quietly for a few moments, both lost in their own thoughts.

“Uh…Jason…you’re about to put salt into your coffee—is that what you really intended?”

He glanced at the salt shaker in his hand, poised over his coffee cup. He shook his head.

“I can’t brain right now. I have dumb.”

Carrie laughed and then got up and brought him sugar and creamer. She refilled his coffee cup and prepared it the way he liked it. He took a few sips.

His initial anger had left him, but an uneasiness and growing fear held on, along with his own curiosity and fascination. He felt like he was sitting in the eye of the storm; a temporary reprieve.

Jason wanted to keep her off the subject of Augere. He needed to. But he was really curious about their lengthy conversation. He had rarely ever spoken to Augere for very long at one time himself. He felt somewhat envious. It was dangerous to keep her talking about him now, but maybe more dangerous not to know what had been said. Should he risk it? She made the decision for him.

“I asked him if he was being decent to you. I mean, I said I knew he took you to Paris and all those great places, but you know—was he being nice to you. Because he better be.”

“What? Why would you ask him that…?” He was surprised and a little embarrassed.

She shrugged. “I told him that besides being my brother, you’re someone who is very important to me. And that you have been going through a rough time lately and you were dealing with a lot of stuff right now.”

Jason winced but she seemed not to notice.

“He looked a little worried and he asked me, ‘What has your brother said?’

“I really wasn’t sure what he meant, so I said you really don’t like to talk about your problems or your personal stuff much. And you won’t even discuss him or even talk about your job hardly at all.”

They were both silent for several moments. Well, good so far, Jason thought. Though embarrassed at what she had said to Augere he was also touched that Carrie took advantage of her stolen time with Augere to advocate for him.

“Please tell me you didn’t just knock on his door though, did you? In the middle of the night?”

Carrie frowned. “Of course not. I woke up feeling hungry; I ate some more of the cheesecake and then I wanted a root beer. Then I decided to take another look at that beautiful library and see if maybe I could find some more books about the Salem witches so I went in—and he really scared the hell out of me!”

“Why? What happened?” His body tensed again.

“It was really dark in there. I stood in the doorway, where there was just a little light from the hall, and I didn’t know where the light switch was, so I waited for my eyes to adjust to the darkness. I thought I noticed some quick movement across the room—it really scared me for a second. I almost turned and got out of there. But I waited a few more moments and then I decided to go in—it was still so dark I almost tripped over a chair or something, and then all of a sudden, someone had hold of my arm. I almost screamed…!” She seemed to be reflecting on that now. “He caught me!” The quizzical look on her face made him nervous. “And it was so quick! How he just happened to be right next to me!

“I said, ‘Damn, you really startled me! Where is the light?’ He was—gone for a second—and then he lit a candle, which seemed a little odd, instead of turning on the light. And I said, ‘I thought you were supposed to be away this weekend…I didn’t mean to bother you—what are you doing in here in the dark?’”

Her bluntness, so typical of Carrie, made him wince again. He tried to picture the scenario: and he got it—Augere must have lit the candle to keep the light dim so she would not get such a good look at him…

“He said he was checking on something. He had a book open on that desk. I think maybe he was trying to read in the dark!…or maybe he just wanted to make me think he was…which is kind of odd and doesn’t make sense either. So I said what are you reading, and then I went and looked at the cover: It was some book about the history of blood disorders and diseases I think. And I said, ‘Oh, you’re not sick are you?’ and he said, ‘No.’ And then I said, ‘Are you trying to bore yourself to sleep then?’ and he laughed and said ‘Something like that.’ So then I convinced him to come to the kitchen with me. It was 6:00 a.m. by then, and I knew I would not be able to get back to sleep. I sensed he didn’t really want to come with me, but I just had to talk to him.”

Jason shakily took a sip of his coffee.

“I asked him if he had a girlfriend.”

Jason choked a little. “Carrie…” He groaned as he shook his head.

“And he said no, that his ‘lifestyle did not leave him that option.’ He has this different way of speaking… anyway I wasn’t sure just what he meant by that—”

Jason attempted another sip.

“—so then I asked if he was gay.” She had to pause while Jason finished choking again.

“Carrie…you didn’t!” His voice came out as a croaking sound.

“He looked a little confused.” She nodded. “And after a few moments, he said, ‘Happy?’ And then I was confused so I said, well, I mean do you like boys more than girls? He seemed to think it over for a few moments, and then he said with a shrug ‘It is all the same.’ So the jury is still out on that,” she said, raising an eyebrow, “but it sounds like there is at least a 50/50 chance for me.”

He picked up meanings in Augere’s responses she could not have, and then some, both of which chilled him, but then he almost wanted to laugh too. He dwelled on her last comment. Oh, great. That’s where her thoughts are going. Perfect. Just when I thought things could not get worse or more complicated.

“He really seemed to like the way I look.” She began talking in that rapid way she had when she got excited about something. She smiled, looking pleased, as she rambled on. “He complimented my hair and jewelry. And he liked the Poe shirt, like I said. He was looking at me so intently, as he kind of leaned toward me, and he was so gentle when he reached out and touched—” She paused to take a breath and a quick sip of her coffee, as Jason tensely waited. “—my bracelets—almost like he was afraid they would break just from handling them.” She got a faraway look in her eyes. “That’s what I mean—he is just so—different somehow… and I can’t quite define it…” She reflected some more. “So tentative, like there is a shyness there almost. It is really very sweet and touching. Charming.”

She got up and poured them both more coffee.

“I told him the moment I saw him I thought he had a really gothic vibe to him. But then I had to explain what I meant—I mean, about goth aesthetics, all of it. Like he just didn’t know! But how weird is that? How could someone be gothicly inclined and not know it?” She laughed. “He seemed really interested in everything I told him—about the scene: the clothing, the music, magazines, all of it. I asked him: didn’t you notice Jason and I have that in common too?”

Jason was really curious to know the answer to that.

“He just kind of shrugged. And, well, I didn’t know what that was supposed to mean.”

Jason didn’t know either.

“Then I said to him, ‘What is up with that pitch black room you came out of? It’s like you were in a dark cave or something!’ And he laughed. He just has the nicest laugh! The sound of it… there’s something so unique about it… But then he didn’t say anything about why it was so dark.”

Jason just let her go on. He was too fascinated and surprised to do otherwise.

“He said to me, ‘You are very close to your brother. You share a lot with him.’ And I raved about the great time we were having in Boston; I told him all the places we went and the things we did and saw and what you bought me. And I thought maybe it was boring to him, but his expression—he just seemed so interested. He was looking into my eyes so deeply that I truly felt it really mattered to him and he really wanted to hear all I had to say. But then this look came into his eyes…” Carrie paused, and her own eyes suddenly began tearing up. “I’ve never seen—or rather felt—such a sadness. And there was this strange feeling suddenly—like he could just fade from my sight! Isn’t that totally weird? I know it sounds crazy.” She practically whispered this and suddenly seemed a little distant, as if recalling the strange sensation. “I felt like I wanted to take hold of his hand and make him stay…I did reach for his hand!—I remember. And he seemed to withdraw a little…like he did not want to be touched. And that sadness just made me want to cry. He kept looking deeply into my eyes and I just felt this aura of despair around him, coming from him.

“I said to him, “Please tell me what you are feeling.’ He hesitated. I felt like he did not want to tell me. But then, he did.

“He said he had lost all of his family. That was just how he said it: lost them. I wondered how, but I was hesitant to ask. And I started to think: what if I lost everyone I really cared about? What if I lost you, Jason? I just couldn’t bear it. And this was the first time I had ever thought anything like that in my life. He looked at me then, and he nodded. Like he just knew exactly what I was feeling, what I was thinking. That’s when my tears started.

“And then I thought about the two of us last night, all the fun we were having. Laughing so hard; I know we got pretty loud. And I started to think that he had to have heard us. He was here, in the house. We had more than enough food. And yet we didn’t even think to invite him; we didn’t include him. And we should have.” Carrie’s cheeks were damp with tears now. She wasn’t looking at Jason; she was recalling their time together last night.

Jason thought about that. She had a point. Augere probably could have heard them. And maybe he had even had felt left out, somewhat. There was really no way of knowing. He is always so withdrawn and distant…and anyway he was supposed to have been gone…

“Carrie, he was supposed to have left. And anyway, I don’t think he would have felt comfortable with—”

She was shaking her head. “No. We should have at least invited him. Why didn’t we? Why didn’t we even think to see if he might be here? We didn’t even check…”

Jason took a long drink of his coffee instead of responding. He knew the real reason. In a normal situation she would have been right. He had no answer he could share with her.

“I actually worried that he was uncomfortable when I started crying, but I couldn’t stop, not for a while. It seemed he didn’t really know what to say. He just looked at me and his expression stayed the same…kind of calm I guess. I was afraid he would just leave, because of me being so emotional, and so I tried to turn attention away from myself.

“I asked him if he would please tell me his thoughts.”

How simple she made it seem! Just “tell me your thoughts…”

“He said, ‘Things are very different for me. They are few and distant who have truly been able to understand.’ That was just how he said it. Then he was quiet. I just felt like there was a lot more he wanted to say to me. And I wanted him to. But I started to feel like I was trying to open a wound he was trying to heal. So we just sat there, silent, for a while. The pain in his beautiful eyes was heart breaking. I was just crying quietly then. I’m not even sure why; something about him just got to me and made me sad, brought out all the tears and emotion.

“I thought he wasn’t going to say any more, but then he started speaking so softly it was almost like he didn’t mean for me to hear it. Yet every word he spoke was so clear.

“He told me he had had an older sister, Amandine, who had died when he was very young and he doesn’t remember her well. But he thinks he feels her presence sometimes; he feels like she tries to guide him and help him.

“He said he was closest to his younger sister, Delphine, and especially after his mother and grandmother died. He had to be seeing her in his mind then because a pained look came over his face. ‘She was one of the last people who truly knew me as I was.’ I wasn’t sure what he meant. I wanted to ask him and I was almost afraid to, but I had to know: did she die also?

“‘He said it was December, and he was fifteen and she was eleven. He said they were always inseparable; he protected her. They shared a lot of interests despite their ages. She seemed to know quite a few things a child her age couldn’t know and he said he thought she displayed ‘uncommon wisdom for someone so young.’ Carrie paused, trying to recall Augere’s exact words. He said she got really ill, but she got better for a time, and all seemed to be good again. But then she became even more ill. Their mother had already died the year before and their grandmother soon after that. He said he held his sister’s hand while she was dying. He remembers that she clung to her life for days. ‘She wondered why—she had asked me why she had to go and not stay with all of us. She said she could not bear to be apart from me. And she would find a way to stay or to keep me with her always.’

Tears welled again in Carrie’s eyes at the fresh recollection of Augere’s words, words he apparently had spoken with little outward emotion that she could recall. It seemed to her that only the sadness in his eyes conveyed the depth of his feeling. “And I just wanted to wrap my arms around him. But I didn’t think I could possibly be able to comfort him; that he was just unable to be comforted.”

“You know,” she said, as her fresh tears finally started to subside, “I found out he is much older than he looks. But you probably already knew that.”

“Oh?” Jason gave her an inquisitive look, wondering what Augere had said.

She nodded. “He’s twenty-three—so that would have been like—eight years ago. So of course, it’s no wonder he still feels the pain of that loss.”

Eight years—give or take 200 or more, Jason thought. And a very long time indeed to carry such grief and sadness.

“He said he is trying very hard to let go. No one seems to realize how hard it is for him.” She looked into Jason’s eyes. “You have to be patient and try to understand him. And what he is going through.”

This took Jason by surprise. He had not expected to be so disarmed by both of them.

She seemed to have learned significant things about Augere in just a short time. Things he did not doubt were true. Again he felt a twinge of envy. If anyone could draw him out, Carrie would be the one. And these were personal things helpful for him to know; the kinds of things he wondered about.

“I’ve never met anyone like him,” she said with fresh awe. “I don’t think anyone else like him even exists.”

Jason needed to keep his guard up. She could be close to the truth now. Too dangerously close to opening the forbidden door.

“Just being next to him,” she began to recall, “makes you feel like you are getting a little drunk from him; a feeling weird and pleasant at the same time; as if you are drinking wine too quickly and you know you are getting too intoxicated but you just do not want to stop because you feel so good and mellow…light headed and drifting, just listening to that velvet soft voice…”

“And just how would you know how it feels to be drinking wine, to the point of being intoxicated?” Jason asked in a parentally stern voice.

Carrie blushed and dropped her gaze. She shrugged one shoulder. “Just sayin.” She took a big sip of coffee.

Then she sighed with a far off look in her eyes. “When he looks into your eyes and he talks to you—it is with such an intensity and with so much personal attention—he is so focused on you—it makes you feel like there is no one and nothing else but you, in the room, or in the entire world, that matters more to him.”

“But Carrie—you were the only person in the room.” He was trying to derail where this runaway train was going.

She frowned and gave him a look of disapproval.

“I really don’t expect you to understand. You’re a guy, for one thing. So of course he is not going to have the same emotional effect on you. You just can’t imagine what it is like to be with him and to experience having feelings like that and to be able to relate to him that way.”

Jason had to glance away. He probably shouldn’t be able to relate to that. He would like to think this over some more. But not now. There were more pressing concerns.

Carrie must not ever see nor speak to him again. It was already bad enough as it was. She was not going to want to let go. But she had to. How else was he going to be able to continue to work for Augere? There would already be enough challenges. How was he supposed to handle something like this? Would he ultimately be forced to choose between family and friends, or the vampire? It seemed unthinkable. He would not be able to make such a choice.

They needed to leave the house—now. They both needed distraction from all thoughts of Augere.

The morning was cold and grey, perfect for the New England Aquarium and at least one art museum. A coin toss brought them to the Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum versus the Boston Fine Arts. They decided to go for brunch after the Gardner and before the aquarium. Both expressed a desire for comfort foods: for more bowls of corn chowder, toasted breads and warm muffins with butter and jam; sausages and eggs. They headed to a restaurant chain that was a favorite of Jason’s, and as they walked in they drew some admiring glances; one stranger was overhead to say, “There’s a nice looking goth couple,” which made the two of them laugh. They enjoyed great food, sated and content to linger for a while, sipping hot Earl Grey and enjoying each other’s company and conversation.

Carrie was enthralled with the aquarium, and Jason was equally glad for the visit. They both found things to buy at the gift shop: a plush Cthulhu like creature for Jason and a plush jellyfish for Carrie. She bought magnets and small toys and trinkets, fun things. Jason drove them through different neighborhoods; to Chinatown and the North End; they stopped at the old cemetery located in downtown. He drove past his alma mater and pointed out how it was a totally urban campus—“not a lot of green spaces, not as nice as some other campuses”—but then felt a little guilty for contriving to dissuade her from choosing Boston as a college choice.

She wanted to return to Faneuil Hall and they did so. Jason had eaten more in the last day than he had in months, but he was enjoying himself, and was enjoying seeing Carrie happy. She wanted to do more shopping.

“You live near the Mall of America, and you want to shop here?” They both laughed, and she said she wanted “Boston stuff, you know, things unique to this area.” She bought souvenirs for herself and the rest of the family and Jason bought her a BOSTON logo hoodie. He did want to made her visit, hopefully her only one ever, a happy one.

It was after 10 p.m. by the time they returned home, after having finally enjoyed huge seafood platters at the Barnacle in Marblehead.

When they returned Augere’s car was gone from the garage, to Jason’s relief. He noted Carrie’s look of disappointment that the brownies she had left for Augere were still in the kitchen, untouched. Jason surmised he had seen them the morning she had led him to the kitchen. Of course…she wouldn’t understand why he would have no interest. She made no comment.

They were both exhausted, but stayed up to watch a favorite movie on TV. They managed to be hungry enough for a snack and then did shots of whipped cream out of a can, laughing and enjoying once again a familiar routine from when they were growing up.

They had really reconnected this weekend, after months apart. His recent return home didn’t count; this time he was in good spirits and a better frame of mind if not exactly feeling more relaxed. Carrie finally announced she was heading off to bed.

Once she was out of sight, Jason moved his couch to block the doorway of his quarters. It occurred to him she could escape through the French doors into the patio, but the patio doors that led into the library were usually kept locked, especially this time of year. He yawned as he settled into the plush warmth of the covers on the couch. He was determined to get a good night’s sleep, and not wake up to a stressful morning once again.

He leisurely awoke on Sunday morning to find Carrie standing over him with a bemused expression and her hands on her hips.

“Was this really necessary, Jason?”

Jason sat up and looked around him in feigned surprise. “Wow… Are you okay? Damn! Must have been another earthquake last night!” He craned his neck trying to look down the hall toward his bedroom. “I bet my bed is halfway out in the hall…! That must have been at least a 3.5 on the Richter scale; were you scared? See? This comes from living on a fault line. I’m telling you, Boston can be very dangerous. We were lucky—this time.”

She scrunched her face into a mock frown. He doubted she bought it for a second. They had played the what-if-bizarre-scenarios-game far too often, to amuse each other, in the past. But he was desperate.

It was Sunday and they had no definite plans. Carrie made a big breakfast for them and they lingered over second cups of coffee. He asked where she wanted to go today, what she wanted to do. She asked if they could drive around Boston, maybe return to Faneuil Hall, have another look around. They wandered in downtown Boston afterward, then walked across Boston Commons and the Public Garden to see the holiday lights. They went to Cambridge and hung out for a while.

When they returned home in the early evening, a favorite casserole Carrie had previously put together was put in the oven for dinner. She had prepared two other different ones to leave in Jason’s freezer; something home cooked for him to enjoy in the future. He felt looked after and appreciative of her attention.

Augere’s car was still gone when they entered the garage. Carrie was quieter than usual as they both busied themselves in the kitchen; Jason made a salad and put a bottle of San Pellegrino in the fridge to chill, chatting while Carrie set the table. It was her last evening in Boston. They were discussing whether to go out to a movie after dinner, when she gasped suddenly, looking past him. She rushed over to the counter. The small plate of brownies was gone. She looked at Jason, her face beaming. “Oh! I’m so glad he took them!” It seemed that little gesture had meant everything in the world to her. It made Jason feel a little sad, but for whom exactly he couldn’t say.

He nodded to her. Yes, he must have; who else?

They considered several movie possibilities, but nothing that was playing held much interest. They decided to stay in and watch Young Frankenstein, a favorite of both of theirs.

They sat in the living room as the casserole baked, and the DVD of the movie started playing while Carrie got out her camera. She began looking at some of the photos she had taken. She mentioned wanting to take more photos of the house.

“What has been your favorite part of the weekend?” Jason asked. Damn, he thought as soon as he had uttered the words. He hadn’t meant to have her focus on all the reasons she might have for wanting to come right back here, including Augere. No matter what he said or how he phrased it, he fell into a trap.

“Well—just, everything!” She laughed. “Boston itself, and Salem of course! That aquarium was just the best. Look at this photo—” She held up her camera for him to see and he nodded his approval. She showed him another photo, one a stranger had taken of the two of them together. It could be like this all the time, he thought. He could have her company, they could spend time together. If it wasn’t for…but no; it was nobody’s fault. It just couldn’t be.

She was scanning through more photos. “I have got to come back here for Halloween!” She browsed some more and then said, “but this is my favorite photo—the best one ever.”

She held up a portrait shot of Augere. Jason was stunned. How had she gotten him to agree to it? Jason had not been able to get a single photo of him in all their time in Europe, nor anywhere else. He had so recently lamented not having one single of photo of Augere and that loss had been grief to him. He had feared any conjured image of Augere would fade from memory in time and it would be as if he had never existed. And now Carrie had accomplished something he hadn’t been able to. He casually asked how she had managed it.

“I know, right? He is so not into—how did he phrase it—? ‘Having his likeness captured.’”

“Then, how?”

She shrugged. “I blinded him with science. It’s kind of hard to believe I know, but he seems to know next to nothing about digital cameras and how they work or about instant photos either. Even I know about polaroids; well, mostly because of Andy Warhol’s art. But anyway, I told him I could take his picture instantly and show it to him. He said he preferred not. Then he said he didn’t think it was possible to do it…I mean, he has a driver’s license, a passport, right? How could he not really know about digital photos? That didn’t make sense to me.” She had a worrisome questioning look on her face for several moments. “I told him my camera is temperamental though, and I have to click it several times to take one photo because I have dropped it a few times, and the little mechanism sticks. Which is partly true. So I clicked it a few times, taking several photos, but I showed him only one. He looked at it for a while…then I set the timer and took one of us together and he seemed kind of amazed. So I asked him if I could keep the photos and he said ‘No.’ So I said okay, I did not want him to be upset and so I told him I would erase them and I let him watch as I deleted the photos. All but three of them, protected and saved of course.”

“You lied to him?”

“You can’t tell him, Jason!” she whined. “I just had to have his photo! I feel bad about doing it, about being so sneaky, because he is so sweetly naïve, and I hated taking advantage of that…but there’s no harm; he won’t even know…”

Jason wasn’t so sure about that. Augere knew plenty of things it seemed he shouldn’t be able to know. This presented a new cause for concern about Carrie’s safety. Now he was starting to feel ill. It had been right there in the confidentiality agreement—no photos.

“Can I see those photos again?” Carrie refused to hand over the camera; she would only allow him to view the photos if she still held it. He lingered over the images. It didn’t seem quite real to him that only a short time ago he had experienced such mental anguish at the thought he had not one photo of Augere; he would have given almost anything to have a single image to help him to remember the experience of him. It was a deeply emotional suffering that managed to embarrass him still.

Carrie had almost effortlessly accomplished what he could not. Even with his camera always handy in Europe, he still had not been quick enough or clever enough, it seemed, to capture a single photo. The absence of that proof of Augere’s existence had haunted him.

He asked if he could view more of the photos she had taken, and especially those of her and himself together. Then he asked if she might make a CD of all of her photos, so he might have them too. She readily agreed to that.

“I was really hoping to see him again…” She sighed.

“Carrie, I seriously hope you are not getting hung up on my boss.”

“Why not?” she asked, looking up at him quickly.

“First, because he IS my boss and that would be awkward; it would create a conflict for—all of us. And seriously, who gets hung up on someone they just met—and has only seen for such a short time?”

She gave him a look he couldn’t interpret. “I believe that is just how it happens: you are just going along in life not really looking for anything or anyone in particular. Then you meet someone who makes you realize: I would never have dreamt there could even be someone like this. One moment, there was nothing. And the next moment—everything.”

Jason swallowed hard. This was already beginning to sound serious. “The thought of this makes me very uncomfortable. And even if you don’t want to take my feelings, and my job, into consideration—it still is just not a good idea.”

“But why? I will probably be visiting often, don’t you think? So wouldn’t it be best if we got along well?”

“It is one thing to be friendly with someone. It just would not be in anyone’s best interest if you were to be overly familiar with my boss. Don’t misunderstand: you mean the world to me and you know that. I love seeing you happy and enjoy spending time with you. Maybe this summer I could rent a cottage in Cape Cod; you could come there for a week, and we could hang out—”

“Summer?” She looked stricken. “I was thinking February recess. And even that seems a long way off. I can’t wait until summer. And I don’t want to stay in Cape Cod.”

“Well, I could always come home to Minnesota to visit, maybe in February. I might be able to stay for a week. That would be okay, right?”

Her facial expression suggested otherwise.

“Oh. So it’s not me you want to see. And spend time with. And it is not Boston, either, you are so eager to rush back here for. Is that it?”

She bit at her lower lip, gazing once again at one of her photos. It was not hard to guess which one. Now she looked upset.

“Did he say or do anything to give you any reason to think he wanted you to come right back here, to see him?”

“I felt a connection.” She spoke quietly, without taking her eyes off the photo.

“So—that would be a no, then.”

She made no reply.

“Carrie, you can’t just build up something in your mind like this. Besides being my boss, he is just not a good…choice…”

She glanced up at him, her face composed, but her jaw set and determined.

“For one thing, he’s too old for you.” It was a weak volley, he knew, but it was all he had.

“He is seven years older than me.”

“That’s right. And you are still in high school, and you have college ahead of you and—”

“And Dad is eight years older than Mom.”

Jason pursed his lips and then exhaled a deep sigh. Why couldn’t Augere be some geeky doofus banker type dude with thick glasses and frumpy suits? Was there some rule written somewhere that vampires had to be ridiculously good looking and charming? Damn it. The word vampire brought his reality back into perspective.

Jason was shaking his head. “You can’t do this…you have to forget about him……you could get hurt…” And by hurt, I mean killed. You could get both of us killed. His mouth went dry and he had to look away suddenly. She did not understand. How could she?

“Jason…do you actually believe for one second I don’t know what is really going on here? That I totally do not understand?”

He didn’t look at her. He couldn’t. He feared the sound of wisdom in her voice was already saying more than her young face could express.

Jason’s body tensed and he immediately felt sick in the pit of his stomach. The blood rushed from his head, and he felt a little faint. He wouldn’t meet her gaze; he didn’t want her to see the fear in his eyes, if she really did know already, as he now suspected she did. Instead he stared at the TV screen and the images of Young Frankenstein, trying to focus on Gene Wilder with his assistants in the laboratory, as the deranged doctor sputtered ‘Sedagive?’

She leaned in toward him, kissed his cheek and then tousled his hair. “You are so incredibly sweet to be so worried. Even if you weren’t my brother, I would love you truly, madly, deeply. I can take care of myself. So you don’t have to be the big brother, worrying about me and boys and dating and getting a broken heart. And cripes! I’ve had to knee a couple of jerks in the groin already.”

Jason exhaled very slowly; a sigh of temporary relief. So she didn’t know. Not yet anyway.

They’d been sparring for just a few rounds but it felt like she already had him on the ropes. The room was spinning; he couldn’t see too good out of one eye, but he wasn’t ready to go down for the count. He caught sight of Ma sitting in the crowd with her sad, tearful expression wringing a damp handkerchief in her hands as she called out to him: ‘Countin’ on ya to do good, Sonny!” I’ve watched far too many late night films from the ’30s and ’40s. He wanted to laugh. I’m really losing it now.

“You know, there are lots of nice goth boys just waiting for you back home, if you would just give them a chance—”

“Oh? Which ones have you personally dated, just so I’ll know?”

That was a low punch.

“You have only just met him and already he is influencing you to be mean to me.”

“That is not true! How can you say that, Jason?”

Oh. So she could throw punches. She just couldn’t take them. Stop making a game of this, Jason. This is far too serious.

“It’s just that you are having difficulty accepting that I am growing up and getting serious about relationships. I really love you and I really…like…him. I just want you to be understanding about this and be kind and nice to him too…and try not to see this so negatively.”

He nearly laughed. But really, there was nothing funny here.

“Just think—he is your boss, now, but what if, someday, he was more than that?”

Ouch! Oh. No, she didn’t! He did not see that coming…A double jab to the abdomen, followed by a roundhouse to the jaw. The room was spinning again, everything growing darker…the horror…the horror… He had to shake his head to bring himself back. Now, this really is just too much. When I get this stressed out, sometimes my mind retreats into old and bizarre movie scenarios or book plots. Weird ones, usually.

“As I was saying, you have the rest of the school year, and then you will be heading off to college. In time you may see things very differently.” He was starting to sound like his parents. But he couldn’t help it. “This is just some flirtation to you at the moment…but this is my job! This is my life now. And all of that is very important to me. I am dealing with a lot of stuff right now, things I cannot even begin to explain or discuss with you, and I cannot risk having my situation compromised any more than it probably is.”

She looked petulant and avoided his gaze. Then suddenly she began to study him with a wondering expression.

“Look—he was probably just trying to be a little accommodating. I—we—put him in an awkward and uncomfortable situation; I am surprised he even agreed to this. . Maybe he was just trying to be nice. Can you understand? This has to be the end of it now.”

With her inquisitive gaze still fixed on his face she said almost wistfully, “It’s too late for that. I already like him too much.”

And what did that mean exactly? he wondered nervously.

A look came over her then that made him pause. He’d only seen it on rare occasions before: that teetering, poised on the brink of something look—where she might suddenly become a hard cold glacier of solid irrepressible determination; or that same frozen expanse could suddenly dissolve into a tsunami of cold tears enduring enough to freeze him out for a long time. Neither of those scenarios seemed about to manifest exactly, but both were possible and equally scary to him.

“Carrie—I’m not just asking, not just begging you—as the favorite brother—and the better looking one—I’m pleading with you, as one carbon based life form to another—”

She was trying hard to suppress a smile now, which burst into a short laugh.

He leaned toward her, hugged her and kissed her forehead, holding her for a long interval. He wasn’t fooled for a second that he had weakened her resolve. But he needed hope just then.

They moved into a kind of détente. The casserole was ready now and they enjoyed the home cooked meal, deciding to sit in the living room as they ate, catching up with the rest of Young Frankenstein, laughing out loud as they said aloud the favorite movie lines they both knew so well.

Carrie was fighting sleep—she did not want this weekend to end. But when it was finally too much effort to stay awake, and she headed off to sleep, Jason chose the couch again, now returned to its normal location.

As he drifted off to sleep he worried about how Carrie would never give up easily once she set her mind to something. He had to get her out the door tomorrow, maybe a little earlier than necessary if possible. He would refuse to engage in the subject of Augere with her. Out of sight and out of mind. It had to be that way. From now on. Already it felt hopeless though.

She actually slept in the next morning and he had to wake her. All of the activity and excitement of the past few days had probably caught up with her finally.

They had decided to go out for breakfast and then on to the airport. She could take her time getting ready; she had an afternoon flight, and the traffic should be less by then.

He took her luggage out to the car and was relieved to see Augere’s car was still absent. He vaguely wondered where he had gone. Jason checked his phone, as he had done discreetly over the past few days; no calls. He returned to his quarters. His plan was to take her out through his private entrance, in closer proximity to the garage, avoiding the foyer altogether. Just as a precaution. She protested.

“I’ve got to get some more photos of that library, remember? I told you I only have two or three of that room! And that huge walk-in pantry! I bet when I show Mom pictures of that she will have Dad knock down a wall and build one just like it for her.”

He suspected what she was really up to. Hoping to get a glimpse of Augere again. Not that it was going to happen.

He was pretty sure now: the vampire was gone. He felt it.

So how was he going to refuse to let her take a few more photos? It seemed like a harmless and reasonable enough thing to ask. What was the damage?

He tentatively agreed, silently planning his moves in advance: he would accompany her to the pantry and then to the library and then position himself as casually as possible near Augere’s door, to stand between it and Carrie—just in case.

She discovered she needed a new media card for the camera, and he went with her to the garage to retrieve one from her luggage. He noticed the look of dismay when she saw Augere’s car was still gone. An unmistakable sadness settled over her features.

They re-entered the house through the kitchen and she took several photos of the pantry. Then they moved to the library. She took so many photos there, he wondered if she was just stalling. “Such a beautiful, comfortable house. I especially love this room. You are so lucky to live here.”

Now she wanted photos of the foyer. This was not part of the plan. But he eased up a little, figuring there was now little harm to be risked in that. They moved out to the foyer and he stayed several steps ahead of her, moving toward Augere’s door.

As she paused to take photos of the large foyer, she gasped. When he quickly turned to look at her, she was staring past him, raptly attentive. He nervously followed her gaze. If he had not been so focused on Augere’s door, he probably would have noticed them sooner.

The tall clear violet vase that stood on the hall table was nearly obscured by the largest and most lavish bouquet of roses he had ever seen placed there. Carrie ran to them now and was gently pulling the blossoms to her face and breathing in their delightful scent. As he moved closer he experienced the scent of roses too, as they perfumed the air.

It was an extravagant display, one meant to draw particular attention. The vase easily held more than three dozen roses in deep shades and then lighter hues of purples and lavender, along with various red tones: crimson, scarlet and burgundy; several others appeared dark enough to be called a rich black. Lush and varied greenery, some of which trailed down the sides of the vase to the floor added more drama to the display and as if to further emphasize the gothic aspect, a half dozen black shiny foil bats were interspersed among the sprays of greenery and flowers. Where did he find BATS? In December? A large black satin bow was tied and draped around the bouquet, trailing in two long streams that nearly swept the floor. The sight of the beautiful arrangement even took Jason’s breath away momentarily.

“Oh!… These are just so beautiful!…and this looks very gothic to me! I have got to take photos of this.” She began to take pictures from every angle, as Jason nervously watched, taking quick glances toward Augere’s door. She took more than a dozen photos, and then paused to caress the blossoms again and breathe in their perfume.

“I can’t help thinking—maybe—well, I’m sure they aren’t for me, but I think maybe I was meant to see them. Do you think?”

He did indeed think so. Damn it, Augere. Before he could reply, an ivory envelope, which had been propped up and nearly hidden beside the vase, fell to the floor. Jason recognized it as Augere’s stationery: the ivory parchment with spidery red and blue lines running through it. Carrie bent to pick it up.

“It’s for me!” she exclaimed as Jason recognized Augere’s handwriting.

He sighed heavily. What on earth was Augere thinking? Why would he do this?

She insisted on finding a letter opener in the library. She did not want to mangle the sealed envelope. He stood waiting in place until she returned with the now opened envelope. She withdrew a single page of folded paper.

He watched her face with anxiety and dismay as she read quietly to herself.

Carrie ∼

∼It is my hope that you enjoyed your visit here as much as I enjoyed meeting you. I very much liked the black spider web garment you wore yesterday; I thought it a clever design.

I did not wish to burden you with my thoughts but I thank you for your kindness in allowing me to share them.

I have remained distant to avoid interfering with your visit. It is not my intention to cause disharmony between the two of you, especially not on my account.

Information that you have provided to me has resolved a communication issue between your brother and myself. That was most helpful .

I am reimbursing your travel expense on his behalf and he shall not know of it. Buy some wonderful gothic things.

I wish you a safe journey home.

Sincere regards,

Laurent Augere

She held the letter close to her, taking her time to read it. Was it that long? He could see nothing of the contents or length from where he stood. Perhaps she was just reading it over again?

When she finally looked up at him, tears were welling up in her eyes. That could mean anything. Now he was worried again.

She had lingered over every word of the neatly fountain-penned handwriting, and took her time over a second reading.

There were five crisp one hundred dollar bills within the envelope that she kept hidden from Jason’s sight. It was more than the cost of her airfare. How incredibly sweet of him, she thought. She had something even more valuable from him to treasure now: his words.

The tears and the look on her face were making Jason very nervous. Now what? What is going on?

“He must have seen me—yesterday…” She looked puzzled. “That long sleeved shirt I wore…he commented on it. Where was he, I wonder? Why didn’t he speak to me…?” She shot Jason a look, as if he were somehow to blame.

“What…?” He shrugged. “Are you going to let me read it?”

“Do I ask to read your personal mail?”

“There were some bills, a few magazines and junk mail—if only you’d asked.” Jason replied. She gave him one of her inscrutable looks. What could Augere possibly have written that she wouldn’t let him see? The possibilities filled him with dread. And lingering here in the house was making him more nervous. He did not need Augere coming through the door right now. Worried that might happen, he began to usher her out.

“Let’s go get breakfast. I’m hungry.”

“Wait!” She paused, her gaze lingering on the profusion of flowers. “Even if…maybe…these aren’t for me—I want to—I just know he won’t mind, if I take some of them…” She carefully removed one of each color, until she had nine of them total, and still the display looked lavishly full. Then she took several of the bats and some of the greens as well. She cast one last wistful glance toward Augere’s door, and then they went to the kitchen together, to get plastic wrap to carefully secure her flowers.

He had her out the door and into the car at last. On the drive to the airport, they stopped at a diner and ordered breakfast. She brought the roses inside with her. Their waitress commented on “Some lucky girl deserving such a beautiful bouquet” as she looked from Jason to Carrie.

Jason gave the waitress a weak smile as Carrie beamed, cradling the flowers. They ordered their breakfast favorites.

“Come on, Jason. February recess. I could save some money by then.”

“Absolutely not. Besides, I’m pretty sure I will still be in rehab.” His expression was serious though the words might have seemed frivolous. She laughed lightly.

“You make everything sound so serious and worse than it is,” she chided him. “Why are you so dead set against he and I being friends?” She was buoyant now, and it seemed nothing could dampen her mood this morning.

Jason shook his head. “We have been over this. I’ve explained it; I’m done.” His mood was the direct opposite of hers. She was leaving and now he would have to get back to the business of this new level of discomfort between himself and Augere. Now there was new cause for fresh tension between them. Augere was upset with him about being cornered over the holiday plans and Jason was upset with Augere over what he was already labeling “the Carrie fiasco.” Things had managed to get worse, somehow.

And now he was wondering…was that the reason Augere did this? To get back at me somehow? By using Carrie as some kind of pawn, for his amusement, just to make me upset? That speculation seemed highly plausible and disturbed him greatly.

And just how was he supposed to get through the holidays in New Orleans with Augere now with this new development hanging over him?

“He is not a monster you know.” Carrie looked up from her plate of scrambled eggs and bacon. She paused, waiting for him to say something. She had been trying to read Jason’s silence of the past five minutes. Jason remained silent.

“You’ve got this decent job… and it probably pays good money too; a beautiful home to live in with lots of personal space; you get to travel to wonderful places and it doesn’t cost you anything…all because of him.” She shook her head as if he was acting like an ungrateful child. “I don’t know why you find it so hard to like him, Jason.”

“Liking him is not required.”

She was taken aback by his reply and was silent for several moments.

The words were uttered so impulsively they took him by surprise as well. He suspected the frustration, now bordering on anguish, in his words had gone undetected by Carrie. She could not begin to know how far from the truth her comment was.

“Well, I like him, even if you can’t. I guess I really don’t understand you sometimes.”

It is the situation you don’t understand. He expressed a deep sigh. Now I’ve become the bad guy somehow.

“There is no reason for him to come between us. He is my boss. My job and my—personal life—which includes you— have to be kept separate. It’s…just the way it has to be, Carrie, Can you understand and accept that?”

She nodded reluctantly. “That won’t stop how I feel about him though.” She waited for a comment from Jason. There was no reply. “He said he ‘remained distant so he would not interfere with our visit. He did not want to cause disharmony between us.’”

“He really said—wrote—that?”

She nodded.

It did sound like Augere’s speech pattern. She wasn’t likely to have just made it up. The sentiment surprised him.

At the airport he got her luggage out of the car and then paused.

“When we say our goodbyes, and it gets all sad, and emotional and tearful—I want you to promise me—you won’t mention him. I don’t want to hear his name.”

She looked mournful suddenly.

“Please. Do this for me. No more about him.”

Boarding pass in hand, they paused outside of the security area. Their hugs were somewhat wooden and hesitant.

They reluctantly moved forward a few more steps. Carrie paused and turned to look at him. “Will you are least think about February…?” Her voice trailed off as she took in his fixed expression which silently spoke the word “No” to her.

She turned from him then, and still clutching Augere’s roses, began to walk away, a heavy sadness slowing her steps.

He stood watching her, too upset to speak.

She paused and turned to look at him once more. The pleading in her eyes got to him, but the wounded look that came over her features was even harder to take.

No…Carrie…I don’t want it to be this way between us…

She turned abruptly and disappeared into the throng of travelers advancing through airport security before he could say anything to fix this.

“And…just how am I supposed to fix this?”

Chapter 28

Nola Xmas

Jason dropped off the rental car and was given a ride home by the rental company. He checked his cell phone as he entered the house. No calls from Augere but the car was back in the garage now. Augere probably surmised it was safe to return. If he had even actually left. Jason made a cup of tea and took it to his room. He had intended to have a full blown nervous breakdown at the first opportunity, but now he was too emotionally, physically and mentally exhausted to even entertain that idea.

He was acutely aware of the void left by Carrie’s absence. The silence and lack of purpose with her gone weighed upon him. He already missed her company terribly. And it disturbed him greatly they had parted on less than cordial terms. Damn it! Why did this have to happen?

In two more days he and Augere would fly to New Orleans. This was going to be rough. The upcoming days were likely to be tense. At least he had almost two full days to try to de-stress from this recent fiasco. Then there would be the awkwardness of spending the holidays among strangers, far from home. Things were looking bleak suddenly. As if the situation with Carrie wasn’t depressing enough.

His thoughts wandered to the events of the past weekend, not the most nerve relaxing activity he could have chosen.

Those flowers. They were a nice gesture. And quite romantic really. And by themselves, they were bad enough. Did he have to leave her a personal note as well? One she would not even allow him to read…damn it, Augere. Are you trying to make my life miserable?

He really couldn’t be mad at Carrie, even if he tried. He didn’t want to be angry at Augere. He tried not to be.

It was too much to hope for that with Augere out of her sight, he would be out of Carrie’s thoughts as well. Not at all likely, he knew.

He was able to nap briefly, something he rarely if ever did, and was awakened after a while by his cell phone. It was Genier’s number, but the caller was not Genier.

“Mr. Genier asked me to call you,” said a vaguely familiar female voice, “since he has been quite busy getting things ready for the holidays. I already sent you an email with the flight information. I’m just calling with some updates now. There will be a car ready to pick you up at the airport. Because the reservations were made at the last minute, Mr. Genier was unable to get hotel accommodation, as Mr. Augere requested, for the first night, so you both will be staying at the cottage…” She paused. “—and then we have you at the Bourbon Orleans for the remaining days. Do you have any questions? Or any requests?”

“No. I guess not. Do I have to notify Mr. Augere of these details?” He dreaded that.

“No. All taken care of. In fact I spoke to him this morning. He really surprised all of us by requesting to fly out a day earlier than planned.”

“Wait—does that mean we are still flying together?”

“Uhmm…not unless you are requesting that…but it would be rather difficult now since most of the flights were already solidly booked and what was left was very limited and hideously expensive…” She paused again. “ And I think Mr. Augere preferred—”

“No, no, that’s okay. I am just a little surprised is all.”

“Okay, well we will see you soon then,” she said brightly, and hung up.

What is her name? he wondered again. He was becoming fond of her; he recognized her voice now. She had been helpful when he had most needed to hear a kind word; some encouragement, and more. He still didn’t know exactly who she was.

So, Augere had not wanted to fly with him—was that it? Jason had no idea what she had meant by the “cottage” but presumably he and Augere would be staying there together, probably right in each other’s space. But just for one night. At least after that they would be in a hotel and they were sure to have privacy then.

If things remained this tense, the next several days were going to be hellish. And there was no backing out now. Even if he called and said he changed his mind…that would mean he would be in Boston alone. It looked like he would technically be alone in New Orleans too. He would know none of the people, except James, who would be tied up with his family’s events. Besides, he always felt a little awkward in forced social situations. He guessed this was something that would just have to be endured.

He called Zavi as he had intended to do several days ago, before Carrie had suddenly arrived. They had spoken of getting together before she left on the 23rd to fly to London. He was hoping she hadn’t been feeling ignored. It turned out she had been busy all weekend with last minute things she needed to do before her trip, but yes, of course she was free now, she said. They met at a restaurant that had newly become a favorite place.

“What would you like for Christmas?” he asked her. “Do you want to be surprised? Or maybe you have a special request?”

“I think you know what my request would be,” she said, playfully stroking him and laughing when he blushed a little.

He gave her a passionate kiss and held her in an embrace for several moments. “I am so glad to have you in my life.” His serious expression held her gaze.

She stroked his hair as she gave him a smile and a lingering kiss. “I can’t believe you are going to New Orleans again.” She sighed. “You are so fortunate to have such a job.”

He nodded, feeling a little less fortunate than usual. “We need to take a trip together. Somewhere really great—wherever you want to go.”

She nodded, smiling. “I would really like that. We should plan something soon.”

The rest of their evening together was spent in lustful abandon. He ardently clung to her between rounds of uninhibited coupling and her passionate responses equaled his fervor. Sex with Zavi was more satisfying and passionate than any he had known before. He felt more free to explore with her and he opened himself to her in ways he had not been able to with anyone else. They knew it would be a while until they were together again. It was important to make the most of the moment.

He finally left her place, reluctantly, pausing at her door for more passionate kissing, becoming aroused again, and nearly disrobed her at her doorway. The abrupt return of one of her roommates interrupted them and they both laughed. They made plans to get together again after the first of the year.

Once home again, and exhausted now from his amorous evening and already tired from the weekend’s events, Jason found he still could not sleep. He was feeling Carrie’s absence again; her dynamic presence had left a void that reminded him how socially isolated he often was, even if it was usually by choice.

He didn’t know if Augere was really in the house now or not. Even if he was, Jason still felt quite alone. For someone who had grown used to enjoying his own company, he was having difficulty being by himself right now.

He slept in the next morning. He imagined Augere would have left for New Orleans already, that morning probably, and he would have the place to himself. He spent an hour or so packing. His heart was not really in it, but he was determined to make the best of this. He was tense and nervous about what the next few days would bring. But at least he would be in New Orleans. How bad could it be?

Having finished packing he went out to a restaurant for dinner. Then, with last minute motivation, he stopped and bought a live Christmas tree, a metal stand and a string of Christmas lights. He spent a while arranging the lights and admired the effect. He wouldn’t be here to enjoy them for long, but for now, at least, the tree provided him with some holiday cheer and a feeling of having accomplished something to lighten his mood.

He arrived in New Orleans the next afternoon and a car was waiting at the airport as promised. The driver provided him with a key to a small cottage in the Garden District. He got just a quick look at the place, a miniature version of the grander homes that surrounded it, as he quickly dropped off his things; the driver had agreed to take him on to Jackson Square. He headed straight for beignets and coffee.

As he sat at the Café du Monde, in the exact spot where he had last sat several weeks ago, he felt overcome with emotion. Being back in this city again brought to the surface all the feelings of despair and hopelessness that had engulfed him then; he had fought to suppress those feelings then so they would not immobilize him at that time. But he could give vent to them now, having passed through the worst of it and come out the better for it. Still, all was not well. And he wasn’t sure how to make things better.

He wandered the streets, and everywhere he spotted beautiful decorations for the holidays. The weather was slightly cool and mild and his spirits lifted as he took in the sights and enjoyed the ambience of the city he had come to love. It was truly great to be back again. He lingered over a Creole style dinner, and then took a taxi back to the cottage, nervous that he hadn’t paid strict attention to the address. He did manage to find it, with the taxi driver’s knowledge of the area. Now he took some time to note all the details of the place.

The cottage was absolutely charming. Smaller than his quarters at home but compactly suitable. A small porch wrapped around the front and one side of the cottage, looking out over a small tidy garden. The small living room compensated for lack of space by having a cozy feel, done in modern hues of teal and peach with dark wood furniture and soft plush accents in complementary tones to balance the overall effect. Everywhere efficient use had been made of the limited space. A love seat and several comfy chairs were positioned around a wall mounted flat screen TV; a wooden coffee table, two smaller end tables, several lamps and two built in bookcases completed the living room. The cottage had a small kitchen area, little more than a dining nook, with microwave, apartment sized stove and refrigerator. A small table and four chairs squeezed into the space. Two small bedrooms, each with two twin beds, and one shared full bath completed the structure.

A welcome basket of assorted fruits, a box of chocolates from Sucre and a bottle of wine sat on the table. Jason explored further: there were two hall closets near the entrance; a utility room held a washer and dryer. He went outside to look around. The back of the house was nearly hidden from view by lush landscaping, which carried over to obscure one side of the building. The cottage was fairly private, for being nestled into a residential neighborhood with other houses so close by. A small patio area extended into a small trim yard largely dominated by a medium sized in ground pool.

As Jason reentered the cottage he paused, thinking he heard water running in the shower. He hadn’t seen any evidence of Augere’s presence yet, though he would have arrived there the day before. Strange he hadn’t seen or heard anything until now. Jason took a seat on the couch, waiting.

He couldn’t believe how nervous he was at just the thought of seeing Augere again. He tried to preoccupy himself with taking in more of the décor. The cottage was actually a small scale house, with most of a larger house’s amenities.

A single person could be comfortable here, but a couple could be a little crowded. He was feeling right at home though.

His attention turned to the sound of the water again. The fact of that surprised him, and then he was surprised at his surprise: of course Augere would use the shower! He always looks impeccably groomed; always clean shaven—or does he even shave? Jason wondered. His hair was always perfect. He began to wonder about…no…I am not going to sit here and speculate about his hygiene habits…

The sound of the water stopped, and he tensed, holding his breath for a moment. The cottage was so still he could hear his own breathing. He hoped Augere would not come out of that room, naked. Then his cell phone startled him.

“Hello, Jason. I’m glad you arrived okay. Did you get the message about dinner tonight?” Genier asked.

“Hello. Dinner? No. I didn’t.”

“Mr. Augere didn’t mention it?”

“Uh…I haven’t seen him yet.” It was the truth.

“A car will be coming to pick you up, and take you to the restaurant for dinner. I will be accompanying Mr. Augere so I will pick him up in my own car, and then we will meet you there.”

“Oh, okay. At what time should I be ready?”

He had an hour until the car arrived.

Of course, he would be ready. He wasn’t hungry now, having eaten an hour ago. But no matter as he had no other plans.

Augere emerged from one of the two bedrooms, and not the bathroom as expected. Had he passed by without being seen? He was dressed casually in a slim black jacket and black shirt and pants. His hair was damp from the shower. He walked to one of the chairs near where Jason was sitting and sat down. Jason was hesitant to look into his eyes, having only taken in just the quick details of his appearance. They sat in awkward silence for several moments.

Augere spoke first, softly, without looking at him.

“Your sister informed me your plans did in fact change unexpectedly. Your family made other arrangements, without including you. You would have found yourself alone.”

Jason nodded without looking at him. “Yes. It was my own fault. I wasn’t clear enough about my intentions, so they made plans without me. I only recently learned of the exact details, when she arrived and confirmed them for me.” That wasn’t exactly the way it had happened, but it was close enough to the truth.

“A cruise, she said.”

Jason nodded again, gazing down at the floor. “Yep.”

“And now you are forced to stay with me for the holiday.”

Jason shook his head, looking up at him then. “No. Now you are stuck with me.”

Augere gave him a rare smile, small and brief. It totally surprised Jason and he smiled in return. After a moment, feeling lightness and energy returning to both spirit and body, Jason stood. “I’d better get ready for dinner.” Augere nodded once.

Genier arrived and after welcoming Jason with a warm hug, he and Augere took off in his car while a separate car brought Jason to a popular restaurant in the French Quarter. The person who greeted him at the entrance was Allen Genier. He embraced Jason just as if he were family and Jason instantly began to feel at ease.

“I’ve been keeping an eye out for you—you’re at a table with us. This way.” Allen led him across a large dining room, to a round table set for six, of which Jason was one. Jason nodded politely to those farthest away, and shook hands with those closest. There was an elderly couple, a young girl of high school age, and an attractive brunette. Introductions were made but all Jason remembered was that everyone was named Genier.

Allen sat on his left and the young girl—Lisa? Gia?—sat on his right. A waiter appeared with a tray of drinks and Jason helped himself to white wine. Enormous servings of shrimp cocktails, one of Jason’s favorites, were served. Hungry or not, he was having this. Everyone ate quietly for several minutes.

“Jason, it really is so good to see you again. And looking so well,” Allen remarked.

“Thank you.” Jason almost meekly averted his eyes. He had made such a fool of himself in London. It was almost embarrassing to face Allen again now, especially as understanding as he was being about all of it. “And thank you for helping me—with that whole thing in London—I was such a mess. Really, I apologize for all that I—”

The young girl next to him had disappeared across the room now, and the other three at the table were up and mingling close by. No one was in proximity to hear him.

“No, please, don’t give it another thought. No need to explain at all. You were dealing with an extreme situation. None of us could blame you. Let it be forgotten.”

“I was acting crazy.” He shook his head. “Looking back, it seemed I was just—”

“No one judges you.” Allen shook his head. “Seriously. My family has seen far worse things, I’m afraid. So put your mind at ease about this.”

“Worse? That’s hard to imagine.” Jason was suddenly curious.

“Suicide, nervous breakdowns, wooden stakes. Trust me, you have nothing to feel upset or guilty about regarding your behavior. Totally understandable. And we just didn’t realize…we didn’t understand. I feel as if we should apologize to you. That we were remiss in all of this. My family feels terrible about that. But it IS so good to see you back. You really surprised all of us. It is a rare thing for someone to return.”

Jason nodded. He took the last sip of his white wine. “I should have listened to you by the way.” He sighed. “My mom was very disappointed I didn’t bring her something from Harrods.”

Allen laughed. “I tried to tell you!”

Jason nodded and laughed with him.

Allen took a sip of wine. “So—you have straightened things out with Mr. Augere then…it seems there was some misunderstandings, all around.”

Jason nodded. He wasn’t comfortable about going into that part of it. He was feeling embarrassed about a lot of that now. Even though it had all worked out in his favor.

“I believe he thought the reason you had left—was because of what he is—”

It seemed Allen just wanted confirmation of the facts. He hoped they didn’t know how he had misinterpreted Augere’s comments at their encounter and unnecessarily humiliated himself. The main thing was that things had turned around for him.

“Yes, apparently,” he answered. “I deeply regretted I might have caused him to think that. It was absolutely not true. I was able to have a chance to tell him.”

Allen nodded as the others were returning to the table now; their conversation was interrupted.

Waiters brought plates of soups and salads, second and third courses, and jambalaya and etouffe, crab cakes and pasta dishes and drinks were readily replenished.

“I don’t know where I am going to put all this!” Jason laughed, looking at his plate. “I’m not even that hungry.”

“Well you had better get hungry! The next few days will challenge all of us. Around here, being hungry has nothing to do with eating!” The attractive brunette laughed and patted Jason’s arm as she returned to her seat. Jason laughed too.

As he sampled various items on his plate, Jason found he was included in the conversation. They seemed genuinely interested in him. People he didn’t know and had never seen before stopped by the table to introduce themselves, to say hello and to wish him well; they called him by his first name. Many of them welcomed him to the family celebration. Jason was touched by the kindness and thoughtfulness of all of them.

Looking at Allen, Jason wondered if he was the mutual acquaintance Terrance had been coy about. He wanted to ask but was afraid to. Secrecy might still be required. And he also wanted to know: did all of these people know the truth about Augere? He decided he had better be careful about what he said and when, just in case.

The young girl on his right had been staring at him, often, as they ate. Finally he turned to her between courses and smiled.

“I’m sorry—I forgot your name,” he said to her.

“It’s Ligeia.”

“OH! Like the Poe character?”

She nodded enthusiastically and smiled, pleased he knew the reference. “Actually it’s Linea. I just prefer Ligeia.”

Jason nodded.

“What’s it like to work with Mr. Augere?” she asked breathlessly.

He shrugged. “He’s okay. I don’t see him much though.” What could he say really?

“He is just so cool. And so beautiful……” Her voice grew softer on the last syllable. “I’ve only seen him once. And I keep looking for him every year since.” She sighed. “He never comes here anymore,” she added with a disappointed frown.

“I think he’s probably coming here later,” Jason offered, and then almost immediately regretted saying anything. The girl’s eyes had grown wide.

“Is it true, Uncle Allen? Is he really coming? Is Mr. Augere going to be here?”

“I doubt it.” Allen shook his head. “I have not heard that.” The girl’s disappointment was palpable. Jason shrugged at her. He learned the attractive brunette, Cherise, was the sister of James and Allen; Linea was her daughter. Cherise pointed out her husband, Dalcourt, at the bar with several men. He waved and smiled at them.

“Is this the holiday party for all of your family then?” Jason asked, surveying the beautifully festive salon. A monstrously huge and lavishly decorated traditional Christmas tree dominated one corner of the large dining room, and everywhere large faux candles cast a warm glow.

“This is just one of them,” Allen explained. “There are parties for family; parties for the employees. Parties for both combined. Then there is the reveillon. And then the bonfire of course.” Allen laughed. “We’re just getting started. One of our reveillons starts as an early dinner—we have revised a tradition to better suit all of us, so even the young ones can participate. You are invited to all these of course. Then there are breakfast brunches, a jazz brunch, casual musical get-togethers, all at different places and times around the city, so everyone has a chance to attend one or more of them and still be able to do things with other relatives and friends. Mostly it is non-stop partying from now through New Year’s.”

“And why is Mr. Augere—why is this so distasteful to him; why is he so reluctant? Is it just the holidays themselves?” Jason recalled as soon as he made the comment: he had just learned Augere’s sister had died in December. That could be the reason…maybe. Just a sad time of year for him.

Allen appeared thoughtful. “We used to think it was the holidays themselves. But I think that is only a part of it. James says he hates to have any fuss made over him. He hates being the center of attention. But my family is very fond of him; James in particular is devoted to him and he refuses to let him be alone over the holidays. We want him to be included and welcomed, especially since he has no family of his own. He is often quite generous throughout the year, and we want to acknowledge that and show our gratitude. Normally he becomes very depressed at this time of the year; I know there are various personal reasons for that. We know we can’t change the source of his misery. But we can try to balance that with some company and good cheer.” Then Allen laughed. “Even if it kills him, so to speak.”

“I’m surprised Mr. Augere agrees to go along with it.”

“Well”—he nodded—“they are both two very strong personalities, he and my brother. Mr. Augere seems to find little ways to try to sabotage his involvement. I think he tolerates all of it just for James’ sake. And James doesn’t push that much on him, really, even during these events; he does want Mr. Augere to be surrounded by people who care about him though. They may seem to be at odds with each other sometimes, and they play out this routine every year, but somehow, it does come together and everyone mutually benefits from it. There is quite a strong bond and mutual affection between them.”

“And your whole family—are they equally involved—I mean—does everyone know…is everyone aware…” Jason chose his words carefully, though he spoke in quiet tones. Live music was playing now, as dessert was being offered. Jason paused to order the crème brulee with his coffee.

“Most of the people here”—Allen glanced around the room—“do NOT know the truth. Of course, there is always speculation about him. But one of the unique things about my family, one of many, I could add, is our ability to keep our secrets.” Allen took another glass of wine offered from a passing tray. Jason helped himself to a third glass also. He wasn’t driving; he was feeling really mellow now and being a little drunk on good wine appealed to him this evening after all of his recent worries.

“Of course, situations like this,”—Allen gestured—“where a lot of people are gathered, and there is much alcohol—there is always some risk. People comment on how he has not aged in decades…people become hyper focused on him—well, for many reasons, I suppose. All of that makes Mr. Augere nervous. That is never a good thing.” Allen sipped at his wine. “But whatever my family may suspect, you can still be sure they will be protective of each of us. And that includes him, always.”

“Do you feel comfortable being around him?” Jason hoped he wasn’t being inappropriate in asking.

Allen paused; his face took on a thoughtful expression. “I like him. I have always been fascinated by him. Well, who wouldn’t be? Until recently he all but ignored me, mostly. Actually, though, he has been friendlier since this recent incident. From the start he had chosen—he had preferred—to have James as his main contact. He has always deferred to James, spoken only to James in meetings. I am quite okay with that. I live in London, James lives here. It all works out. Of course, I lived in London too, part of that time Mr. Augere lived there…but then, he has always been really high maintenance in my opinion, and so, to my relief, he always dealt with James, who seemed better able to cope with all of that than I could, during those London years.

“As I said, since the London incident, Mr. Augere has been warmer to me. He greeted me by name today; made a little conversation. But am I comfortable around him? I would have to say he still makes me nervous. I would be a fool to feel otherwise. And what about you, Jason? Having just recently learned all that you have—are you a little more comfortable now, or are you still getting used to the whole idea of him? Do you find you are fearful at times?”

“All of you, your family, have more history with him. You know what to expect…what to do or say. I have made some mistakes, or nearly have, out of ignorance. That makes me uncomfortable. There is an ever present fear, I guess I can admit that, but it is mostly a fear of the unknown, and not of him so much. I think my fascination might be stronger than my fear at present. I really want to know him better and to understand him. To know what to do or say and to be comfortable around him.”

Allen nodded. “We are here to help you. Never feel like you are just dealing with him alone. I think the more you know and understand—well, that doesn’t always make things better though.” Allen distractedly gazed across the room as he sipped his wine.

Jason nodded. “I think I will be lucky if I can last as long as some of his previous assistants.” He gave Allen a knowing look, but Allen only nodded and then his gaze went elsewhere again. He waved at someone across the room. Then he finished his wine and after a few moments, looking steadily into Jason’s eyes, said, “If that is what you really do want. Avail yourself of help that is offered. There is much to know…” To Jason this seemed a confirmation of the Terrance connection. Was he really so afraid to confirm it verbally, even in private conversation?

The live music switched to an even livelier zydeco, ramping up the energy in the room as the coffee and desserts arrived. Jason wanted to ask more, but the room was too noisy now for half whispered conversations. People were getting up, mingling. Jason was pleasantly stuffed, and got up to work off some of his indulgence. As he walked around the room, more people he had never met greeted him warmly by name, as if they were old friends; they were genuinely pleasant and solicitous, asking if he needed anything, making sure he was comfortable and attended to. “I do hope you try some of this coconut pineapple cake Mr. Sterling—it is as delicious as sin!” a kindly woman with silver hair urged him with a smile. Jason laughed. “Upon that recommendation I believe I will have to have some,” he promised.

He soon found himself surrounded by Linea/Ligiea and several of her peers.

“Can you tell us what Mr. Augere is really like? Do you see him a lot? Is he really nice? What does he like to talk about? Is it great working for him? Are you going to be coming to New Orleans a lot now? Do you have a girlfriend?”

He tried to field all their questions with vague answers. Finally he had to break free, and using the excuse of the men’s room, he was able to escape. When he re-emerged in the crowd, there was a buzz of excitement near the entrance. Jason went to see what it was about and found Allen standing there waiting. Apparently Augere and James had arrived. Augere waited out of sight in the vehicle.

“James is here with the car. You can certainly stay if you like; I would see to it that you get home later.”

“If I stay, I will just eat more, and I can’t possibly without dire consequences.” Jason laughed. “I’ll head back to go to sleep.”

Allen hugged him warmly. “I’m very glad you were able to join us. Welcome to the family, Jason. Sleep well.”

Jason’s exit into the cool night air felt bracing and refreshing. A car with the doors opened waited at the curb. Augere had exited the car and he and James stood beside it, quietly talking.

James seemed just slightly inebriated, far from being drunk though, and was obviously in a pleasant mood. Augere might have been just slightly inebriated as well, though Jason couldn’t tell for sure having nothing to compare with.

“Did you enjoy the evening?” James asked, lightly touching his arm.

Jason nodded and smiled. “Everyone was so nice to me.”

James smiled and nodded. “We were in the upstairs salon, and we could see everyone below.” James took hold of Augere’s arm then. “He does not like the crowds. We arrived here after everyone else had pretty much finished dinner.”

Jason nodded. He, and then Augere, climbed into the backseat of the car. James got into the front, next to the driver.

As they reached the cottage, James was explaining that tomorrow’s brunch started at 11:00 a.m. at The Court of Two Sisters. He said the full schedule of activities for the next few days had been printed and copies left at the cottage for them. They could move into their hotel before or after brunch.

James exited the car with them and embraced both of them warmly before saying good night and departing. Augere used his key to open the door to the cottage. Jason was exhausted and well sated. It was late and he was really looking forward to sleep now. Without a word Augere went to the room he had emerged from earlier. Jason took the other room; too tired to shower, he fell asleep as soon as he had undressed and climbed into bed.

Jason had to rush a little the next morning and his hair was still damp from his morning shower as he climbed into the waiting car. He really could have used more sleep. Augere was already in the backseat, and gave him a nod as he entered. They soon arrived at the restaurant on Royal Street.

A live band was playing an upbeat jazz number as they entered. People were gathered thickly at the bar and some of the crowd had spilled out into the lovely courtyard. It was a truly charming place with fountains, much greenery and open spaces. Jason wished he hadn’t been in such a rush; he had forgotten his camera.

James and Allen were present and a few other faces Jason recognized: Sean Genier was one he hadn’t seen last night. They were ushered into a private salon on the Royal Street side of the restaurant; Jason was surprised Augere sat at a table with all of them. He worried now about eating in front of Augere, thinking he would feel self-conscious and inhibited. But he took his cue from the others.

Augere was served a drink concoction he had requested from the bar and menus were brought to all but him. It was understood this meal tab, as was the one last night, Jason had learned, was picked up by the Geniers and Augere. This was part of the generosity provided to all family, as well as to close business associates. The Geniers made a point of taking good care of their own.

Jason followed James and Allen’s example and ordered whatever appealed to him: bananas foster, shrimp and grits, a side of bacon and coffee, and then he added a Mimosa as well. As they waited for their food, Jason took a look around. There were probably seventy other people in the party, most of them having some kind of cocktail. Jason ordered a Szazerac after finishing his Mimosa and found it much to his liking. When the food arrived, he ate hungrily as did the others, all but Augere. No one seemed uncomfortable with this, at least not outwardly. Jason’s full appetite had returned even after all he’d indulged in the night before. So much so that he paid little attention to Augere, a rare thing for him to be able to accomplish. At the conclusion of the meal, James left to speak to several others at a different table. The rest of the party at Jason’s table were silently enjoying the friendly festive atmosphere and chatting among themselves. Everyone in the party seemed in a happy mood and Jason enjoyed being fully included again. Augere seemed calm, complacent.

James returned after several minutes. “You and Jason,” he said to Allen, “will join several others later tonight at your reserved table; the other seating arrangements are still being worked out. We have the rest of the afternoon free; most of us will not be arriving at Muriel’s until around 6:30. I expect to see both of you there by then,” he said, directing his comments to Jason and Augere. He stood behind and slightly to the right of Augere and placed his hand on Augere’s shoulder, “And I will be staying with you.”

“You…will stay?” Augere seemed hesitant and surprised.

“Of course. I told you I would.” He placed both hands on Augere’s shoulders then. It seemed to Jason as much a gesture of affection as well as of reassurance.

They rose to leave and Genier took the bill to pay it.

They all exited the restaurant together and then James and Allen waved as they walked off down Royal Street, leaving Augere and Jason standing alone. It was Christmas Eve day. Now what? Jason wondered. He had no plan in mind.

Augere turned to look at him.

“I was given to understand if I am not nice to you, there would be serious consequences.” His eyes held a trace of amusement. “Of the very worst kind.”

Jason stared at him in mild shock. What on earth…I …oh…Carrie. “I’m sorry—my sister…she’s just, she really doesn’t mean anything by it, she’s just very—” He stammered and then paused, then nodded. “Yeah. There could be trouble. I’m a little afraid of her.”

“Shall we walk now?” Augere took off at a brisk pace down the street, not waiting for a reply. Jason had to hurry to keep up. He had thought they were going to part company, and now he was invited to walk in the French Quarter with Augere. This felt like a gift to Jason. And he was relieved not to have to say anymore about Carrie. He did not want the subject of her brought up. Definitely not now at least.

They walked briskly in silence for several blocks. Finally, Augere seemed to become mindful of Jason’s struggle to keep up and he slowed his pace. Two blocks later he stopped at a corner. He was staring, at what, Jason couldn’t tell; he could see nothing out of the ordinary. Augere’s nostrils flared slightly and Jason glanced at him and then quickly away. He suddenly moved closer to Augere, fearing it might be another one of those portals. Here? In daylight? He didn’t know if that could happen or not and he didn’t especially want to find out.

But Augere turned the corner then and resumed at a leisurely pace, stopping at the end of the next block. He stood surveying an old building, one in need of much repair. It appeared to have been vacant for years; broken windows, cracked walls; dirt and debris everywhere. It nearly marred the view of some of the other well-kept buildings around it. Jason was puzzled at Augere’s interest in the decayed structure.

“A carriage house stood here…once,” Augere said softly. He paused, still gazing at the structure, but, it seemed, seeing something else entirely. “I had a very splendid shining black coach. With a quite lavish and comfortable interior. As expensive as any fine automobile is today. There were lantern lights on the sides—” He seemed to be gesturing at the location of these—as if he could see them still. Jason was caught up in the smooth soft voice as well as the spoken description. He began to picture it. Augere was sharing something with him; a personal memory. Jason acknowledged this was something rare to be able to experience.

“You lived right here, then, in—”Jason began.

“No.” A long pause.

“I had two black horses; very sleek. For the carriage. Quite large and powerful creatures…this many hands high.” Augere gestured. “The most beautiful horses you could imagine.” He paused, remembering them, seeing them again in his mind’s eye. “They would not let me touch them, ever, of course. But after a time they grew less frightened and sometimes they would let me stand quite close. I spent much time admiring them.” An immeasurable sadness filled Augere’s voice now. “They were quite exquisite; I enjoyed them very much.”

Augere fell silent. He stood, staring, no longer seeing the structure in front of him, but looking beyond it into the past. For several long moments, he stood and stared, as Jason began to feel a little uncomfortable. If he glanced away, it was as if Augere became absent, just totally gone. Jason had to keep him in sight. And, he began to realize now, perhaps get him moving again.

“Time passes; things change…eventually cars had to replace—” Jason began, but it was as if Augere had not heard him. After several moments he began to speak again.

“Three men had been drinking and gambling one night…they were in the building adjacent to the carriage house. To my carriage and horses. A fire started; they were surely to blame for it. A woman in an upstairs flat began screaming, witnesses said; she was trapped and people came to help her. They saw the three men flee the lower part of the building, where the fire was thought to have started. The woman was rescued but later died from her injuries. Several others suffered grievous burns. The carriage…my beautiful horses…all were destroyed.”

Jason’s expression conveyed deep sympathy. He could imagine the horror of it. And the vision of it seemed as present to Augere as if he had just now come upon the acrid smoking rubble of what had once been, and now stood gazing upon the burned flesh of the doomed horses. Augere turned his gaze upon Jason briefly; Jason’s face reflected Augere’s deep sadness.

Maybe it is best to get moving again, away from the scene of this tragic memory. This had become a little too intense suddenly. Augere’s gaze returned to the ruined structure in front of him. It seemed to hold him there.

“Fires…were a common enough tragedy in those times. Many could have been prevented. This one, certainly.

“The three men were apprehended. Information had been provided to officials as to their hidden location. There was a trial. Somehow, the three men managed to escape the court’s justice. They did not, however, escape mine.”

“What…what happened…to them…?” Jason wasn’t sure he wanted to know, but he had come too far now not to hear how the story ended.

“I will say only that they came to know what it is to die slowly by fire.”

Jason experienced an involuntary shudder. Augere slowly began to move on then, reluctantly taking his eyes from that spot, and Jason followed close behind.

Augere paused at another corner and looked up at the façade of an old famous restaurant. “I remember when this structure was just being built.” They walked on. Augere pointed out places, things, facts about the French Quarter and details from his past, and Jason was fascinated at the living history lesson. He had passed by so much of it, in his brief times here, and he had not known. Augere talked about the pre- and post-Civil War years; the grand balls, some of which he had attended; the Mississippi flooding the city before the levees. At times, passersby would pause, caught up in his words and trying to catch a bit of what he was saying, hearing some fascinating revelations, lingering as long as they could, until Augere would pause and look at them and they would self-consciously move on. The past seemed vibrantly alive to him; the present, simply superimposed on all he had lived through and remembered from his many decades in New Orleans.

“I think I am enjoying New Orleans even more than ever, thanks to you,” Jason told him. “I am looking at things I saw weeks ago, but it is as if I am seeing them for the first time. All the color and sounds and life of the city are more real to me than before.” The words rushed out of him with more emotion than he was comfortable expressing. But he was caught up in the moment too, enjoying the city and time spent with Augere, and just the fact of being in his company. “When I was here just weeks ago, I wandered these same streets, not really seeing or enjoying all that was around me. At one point I didn’t really care what happened to me.”

“You put yourself in danger.” Augere nodded.

Jason tilted his head slightly. “I think I had a really close call one night. Something very strange happened…” He looked at Augere then. They had paused to look in the window of an antique shop. “How did you know I put myself in danger…? You aren’t just saying that, are you? You really knew…?” He paused, studying him. “You saw me, didn’t you?” The thought came to him with fresh clarity; he had already suspected it was true.

“Perhaps. Does it matter.”

“But—if you knew—why wouldn’t you let me know? You had to have realized I was looking for you—why didn’t you acknowledge me?” He corrected himself—“sooner?”

“You should have returned home.”

Jason wanted to ask why, but he didn’t. “But I just couldn’t. I had to—”

“Have you need of rest? Refreshment?” Augere asked suddenly.

Jason nodded, realizing in fact, he did need both. He had his answer now. He was beginning to feel better about that whole dark episode. His suffering had not gone unnoticed. Somehow that fact meant everything to him. He didn’t know how or when Augere had seen him, but he felt sure now that he had. It was well worth returning to New Orleans, if only to experience this moment.

Jason hadn’t been paying strict attention to where they were walking, and now they were at the corner of Rue Dumaine and Decatur. They turned and began walking toward the Café du Monde. Augere indicated it just ahead with a nod. “Your preferred place.”

Jason laughed and nodded. They entered and sat in an area out of the breeze as the air had grown somewhat chilly. He got his usual order of beignets and café au lait, and Augere ordered coffee. When the order promptly arrived, Jason bit into a warm sugary beignet, sending powdered sugar flying everywhere, with a lot of it settling on his black clothing. Another bite produced the same result and Augere laughed gently, a clear bell like tone, a sound still quite rare to Jason’s ear and he delighted in hearing it. They were both relaxed and enjoying each other’s quiet company.

After a time, Augere spoke again. “I can recall before this place was here; quite a long time ago. This was all waterfront then. The ships docked and unloaded cargo here. It was a noisy, dirty and dangerous place. Not at all the comfortable tourist repose it is now.”

Jason was quite amazed at Augere’s loquaciousness today. “What years were those?” he asked after savoring a sip of the hot chicory coffee.

“The war had already begun. 1861 perhaps.”

“And you lived here then?”

“No. I traveled here often, on business. I lived in Savannah then.”

“At that house…where you and I went…?”

Augere gave a hesitant nod as he gazed at passersby.

“It must have been really dangerous, just traveling from place to place during the war. And being in Savannah—all of the South, really—” Jason temporarily forgot the nature of the creature he was speaking to. His thoughts wandered again to that house in Savannah.

“Not for me. And people still needed cotton, rice, sugar cane, indigo. Many things.”

“And what role did you play in that? What was your life like?”

“I owned two plantations by then. And about seventy-five slaves.”

Jason was already thinking he would never get over the shock of revelations like these. And Augere’s long life, all he had seen and done, could be endlessly amazing.

“What did you think of President Lincoln?”

Augere gave him a faint smile. “My loyalties tended to lean in the other direction. Although I still considered myself foremost a French citizen, I had become American by decree in 1803. It mattered little to me who won the war, except for commerce.” Augere paused. “I did come to admire Mr. Lincoln, however. I saw him alight from a carriage with his son once, in front of the White House. Even from a distance, his was quite an impressive and imposing presence.”

Jason was in awe. The presence…impressed with the viewing of…a presence.

“The next time I saw him, I was but one of many mourners who filed past his body in the Rotunda of the Capitol building.”

Jason nodded, trying to picture that sad event.

“What year did you come to this country?” Jason was going to take full advantage of Augere’s willing self-disclosure.

“1800. Shall we go now.” Augere stood abruptly. They had both since finished, Augere having taken but a sip of the black coffee.

They resumed their walk through the Quarter. Augere made remarks at this or that location, all of it always fascinating to Jason. No walking tour he could ever take of the French Quarter could touch this one.

Augere paused in front of a large stately grey and black building on a corner of Royal Street. “I had a benefactor, whom I did not yet know at the time, who once attended a party at this house with the woman who was then his wife. He told me about it.” He paused for several moments. Jason waited patiently. “Before I met him, I myself had once attended a party here. In—1833, I believe it was. It was one of the few times I had decent enough clothing then and could pass myself off as one of New Orleans society. I had no invitation but was able to come as a guest of some other.” He paused again, perhaps remembering those events. Jason wondered at the significance of it. Perhaps just a random memory. “They were a gracious couple and the party was quite lavish and elaborate. Not like anything I had ever attended before. We did not know of course, of the terrible things that went on here, perhaps even occurring then.” Augere’s expression darkened and Jason could almost feel he was absent from the here and now. Augere was silent. Darkness had taken him far away from the present moment.

“Mr. Augere…?” Jason’s words had little effect. He repeated them and then Augere turned his head to look at him. “She was fairly attractive. She spoke to me briefly. Flirtatious and sweetly charming in demeanor. I had barely a few words with her husband.”

“Who was that?” Jason had to ask.

“Delphine and Leonard LaLurie.”

It took Jason several moments to put it together. Then he stared, nearly open mouthed. The LaLurie mansion? Home of the notorious couple who had tortured and mutilated their slaves until an angry mob had stormed this house and all but destroyed it, forcing the infamous couple to flee the city. Jason stepped back and looked the house over. Of course, he knew it. Knew the whole story of it. He had not realized just where they were.

“Of course, none of that activity had come to light yet. It was not until many years later.” Augere paused and then shook his head. “None of us suspected.” He said this quite innocently; the irony of him being a vampire among all of them was overshadowed by the horror of the events that were later revealed to have occurred here.

It seemed the door to further revelations had closed then.

They returned by taxi to the cottage to retrieve their things and then the same taxi brought them to check into their French Quarter hotel.

They had large, adjoining rooms. Jason was relieved to have privacy; as much as he often craved Augere’s company he now knew it was healthier to try to maintain some emotional, and probably physical, distance.

It was time to change and get ready for the evening event. Jason was looking forward to going to Muriel’s again; this evening promised to be a very pleasant one. Things were already going better than he had expected. He was washing his face when Augere suddenly appeared through the unlocked adjoining door. He casually took a seat opposite Jason. “The room is too close,” he stated simply.

Jason looked up at him, surprised.

Too close. Is he saying he doesn’t want to be in such close proximity to me? Jason wondered. Well, what was he supposed to do about it? Apparently it had been difficult enough to find rooms this time of year on such short notice; there were no other rooms available. He looked at Augere for several moments.

His own room was pleasant enough; but it was a trifle stuffy just now, he realized. Wait—close. Did he mean—warm?

“Too stuffy perhaps? Too warm?” Jason asked. Augere nodded.

“Well—maybe—you could just open a window,” Jason suggested.

“Good idea,” Augere replied and was up and gone in the next second.

Jason dried his hands and then resumed getting ready. A few moments later a horrible screeching sound came from Augere’s room, followed by the loud and unmistakable sound of splintering wood. Jason froze. Then there was silence.

Augere returned a few moments later, and once again sat in the chair in Jason’s room. He wore an innocent expression.

“You got the window open?”

Augere nodded.

“Is it a little more comfortable now?”

Augere nodded again.

Jason sighed heavily and then paused for a moment.

“The windows don’t actually open, do they?”

Augere shook his head.

“So that would mean that the window is—”

“Broken.”

“I see,” Jason sighed. He guessed it was his fault. He told Augere to open it. “I’ll call Mr. Genier to let him know. Hopefully, he can get this straightened out.”

Augere nodded. He remained seated, with a placid expression.

“Are you going to get ready now?” Jason asked him.

“Right,” Augere replied, and then left abruptly.

They could have easily walked the short distance to the restaurant, but a car came all the same. As soon as they arrived they spotted James and Allen. James disappeared with Augere and Allen led Jason to their reserved salon.

At each place setting sat uniformly sized gifts decoratively labeled with gold fleur de lis embossed cards bearing each person’s name. Jason found his place and took his seat. He gazed around. Now there were some familiar faces in the room. He watched closely to see what others at his table did. He recognized Allen and James’ sister, the brunette named Cherise, and her husband; they sat at his table, along with two others whom he didn’t know. She smiled warmly at him. Introductions were made. Again, he heard only that they were Geniers. At least a hundred people were in attendance tonight, he guessed. Wine and hors d’oeurves were being served. Allen left the table and appeared a few minutes later at a podium standing alongside James.

An announcement was made, thanking everyone for joining the festivities. A brief prayer was said, a wonderfully expressed sentiment, wishing good health and prosperity to all friends and family. Then James stated he had an announcement; scattered laughter could be heard. ”There is a telephone call…” More laughter. “By any chance…” The laughter grew louder, as if in anticipation of the next comment. “…are there any Thibodeaux family present?” And all the room joined in the hearty laughter then. It was, Jason learned from someone at his table, and old inside joke, a warm sentiment shared between both the large Genier and Thibodeaux families, one that had become a custom enjoyed each year. Then everyone in the room raised a glass and toasted: “To good friends, good health, loving family, wonderful gatherings such as these, and much more of the same.”

Before the first course was served, everyone began to unwrap the gift at their place. and Jason followed suit. He removed the calligraphy place card bearing his name from atop a large tin box, identical to those at each place, except for the differing hues of Mardi Gras colored ribbons encircling each box. Inside his box he found an assortment of gift cards, and as Jason began to look through his, he heard excited comments from others around him. It appeared the cards were personally selected specifically for that person’s interests. In Jason’s case there were cards for his favorite places both in Boston and New Orleans. As if all of his personal preferences were known and someone had kept track of his spending habits. He was staggered by the unexpected generosity. There were dozens of gift cards with sizable denominations: for his favorite bookstore; restaurants; movies; to numerous local establishments and clothing places he favored; a $500 airline voucher; a universal prepaid gift card worth $500—there had to be well over several thousand dollars in value in just his gifts alone. He glanced around the room. Many happy faces, finding the same happy surprises.

The first of six courses arrived. He had chosen shrimp remoulade from among the appetizers, having difficulty deciding from so many good choices. Then he had a small cup of gumbo with garlic bread. He selected a wedge of iceberg lettuce with crumbled bacon, blue cheese and cherry tomatoes. He was trying to save room for the entrée, and the dessert he inevitably would have even if feeling full. He had never before dined as well as he did when he was in New Orleans.

Crab cakes arrived with crawfish sauce but he could just as easily have ordered trout amandine, or filet of beef with port raisin sauce and been happy with those. He had trouble choosing among Creole and other specialties, with sides such as BBQ shrimp or shrimp and grits. And by the time he had succumbed to a dessert of chocolate beignets and coffee, Jason was done.

Over courses of food Jason had learned it was not just at the holidays that the Geniers were so generous. All through the year it seemed were picnics, day trips, theme park outings, all marking various celebrations, or at times, for no other reason than just to enjoy an event together as family. In a city such as New Orleans, which went from one amazing festival to another all year, it was hard for Jason to imagine the Geniers being able to squeeze in even one more event to those already going on.

James and Allen took the podium again. “We will adjourn to the annex shortly, for the lighting of the trees and the voting on the tree contest. Mr. Augere has joined us and he has viewed the trees as well.” A whoop rose over the crowd, in particular the unmistakable sound of the excited voices of adolescent girls. “Okay, we shall see those of you who are attending the tree event in about an hour then.”

At one end of the large room sat a huge Christmas tree, and smaller lit trees lined the walls on either side as well. Jason was confused: there were more decorated trees?

Allen came and found him then, and led him through the noisy mingling crowd to a small salon. At a table elegantly set for dinner, decorated with a beautiful centerpiece that included glowing candles and Christmas greenery, sat Augere, alone, where of course no dinner had been served. The cozy salon held small lit trees like those in the main room with red satin bows and silver ornaments.

James entered soon after and he handed Augere a small wrapped present, covered in cobalt blue tissue paper with a tiny gold fleur de lis pattern on it. Allen poured shots of brandy for each of them.

Augere shook his head at the offer of the gift.

Jason had asked Genier about getting a gift for Augere and was assured it was not expected. He did not feel comfortable accepting gifts from us, James had explained. So Jason was a little surprised to witness this.

“If you don’t open it, I will. So you might as well open it.”

Augere sighed heavily and then quickly, and a little self-consciously it seemed to Jason, unwrapped the gift. Under the tissue paper was a slender cobalt blue box. He set the box on the table and then opened it.

The box contained an exquisite dark blue fountain pen. Augere lifted it out to examine it closely. He turned it over in his hands and felt the heft of it; examined the details: there was a raven etched on the gold nib; James pointed it out. This was a special edition Edgar Allan Poe fountain pen; Augere held it as if poised to write. Then he examined the ink well.

He looked up at James with a look of wonder and unmistakable pleasure.

“I decided you needed to always have a decent fountain pen available to you. It was Allen who learned of this particular pen.”

Augere glanced at Allen, who smiled at him.

“And he was able to locate one. Do you like it?”

Augere gave a nod and a lingering look at Allen. “Yes. Absolutely. It is quite beautiful.” Augere said in his soft voice, obviously delighted with the gift.

“I am very glad.” Genier beamed at him. “It can be so difficult to find something you like.” Then he gently proceeded to tug the pen away from Augere. Augere seemed quite reluctant to let it go. Genier replaced it in its blue box, closed it, even as Augere reached for the box, and then put the box in the inner pocket of his jacket.

“I do quite like it. I will take it now,” Augere said, again tentatively reaching for it, as James took a small step back.

“Not to worry. I am going to keep it here, safe for you. No one else will ever have access to it but you, I assure you. It will always be here for you when you need it.”

Augere’s eyes narrowed slightly as he frowned. “Can you not trust me to keep it?”

“Of course I can.” James nodded solemnly. “But it will be quite safe with me too. Ready and available— right here—whenever it is required.”

Augere sighed heavily, shaking his head. Jason thought at first he was upset but then there did seem to be a faint hint of amusement at the corners of his mouth. James rested his hand on Augere’s shoulder then and whispered something briefly in his ear. Then James straightened up and left the salon. Jason lifted his shot of brandy in toast to Augere, as did Allen. Augere lifted his glass too. Each savored the libation.

A short while later, as they walked the two blocks to the annex as they called it, Allen was explaining to Jason they held a tree contest each year and this year there were three entries. Tonight people would choose the themes for next year, and then have the entire year to collect what they wanted and needed for their chosen theme. It had been a family tradition Allen remembered from his own childhood, and he couldn’t even say how many years before then. Sometimes the trees were then auctioned off for special charities and some were kept by the family themselves.

They entered a room with a small curtained stage. Some folding chairs were set up, but most of the people chose to stand, cameras ready. Jason had remembered to bring his camera this time.

It may not have been the family celebration he was used to, but Jason had never felt so comfortable among strangers before in his life. Once again, people he had never met, and a few he had met just briefly, had come up to him with personal greetings to wish him well and to see if he needed anything; again, they all knew him by name. He wondered now if it was because he was Augere’s assistant? Did that carry a certain cachet with all of them? That might be part of it. But these people seemed too genuine and friendly to need to put on any pretense just for his benefit. He began to choke up a little at the welcome they had extended to him. He truly felt as if he had a second family now, one that purposely included him in their traditions.

Before James and Allen announced the theme of the first tree, they announced the prizes to be awarded: gift baskets, passes to preferred seating for Mardi Gras, sports ticket packages: the list went on, and again reflected the generosity of the family among its own. There was also a winner’s choice prize, which was unannounced. Because, as James explained “it will be the winner’s choice. And I ask—please keep it reasonable!” James admonished the excited crowd as they laughed nervously. All this for Christmas tree displays? These must be some special trees, Jason thought as he shrugged.

And they were. When the first tree was revealed, everyone began to take photos at once. Someone at Jason’s elbow, sensing he wouldn’t know much about this family tradition, explained in a loud whisper: the trees were practically guarded secrets, like floats in the Mardi Gras parade. Even though there would be time to take more photos, everyone got caught up in the moment. The first tree was New Orleans themed and was simply beautiful. Tall and full, it managed to capture the color, history, culture, and uniqueness of the city all at once. The lights were the colors of Mardi Gras: gold, green, and purple. James, with microphone in hand, pointed out the various ornaments; tiny painted papier mache beignets and coffee; miniature artworks of landmarks; beads, alligators, voodoo dolls, musical instruments, miniature books with NOLA themes; a steamboat—Jason craned to see all of it, taking several photos as he did so. It was obvious a lot of effort had gone into this, and it truly was a work of art.

The theme of the next tree to be revealed was Myths and Fantasies. Several people throughout the room gasped when they saw it.

Again, it was amazingly clever, and as beautiful as it was intriguing. Blue, green and white lights sparkled on the tree. The ornaments included a variety of mythical beings and everyone craned their necks to see: mermaids; unicorns; various wizards, including ornaments from Harry Potter; flying horses and flying pigs; fairies and gnomes and ghosts and a phoenix rising from the ashes; the Loch Ness monster and abominable snowmen; even a Sasquatch. James pointed out the many magical and humorous touches. There were a few superheroes. Santa and Krampus and angels and trolls. People laughed with delight as they noted particular details. This tree, like the previous one, had been placed on a small rotating stand, moving slowly so everyone could see as much of it as possible, each turn bringing fresh delights to the eye.

The last tree to be revealed also made everyone gasp. It was all black, with purple and white lights and the tree’s theme was Dark Dreams and Nightmares. James pointed out various ornaments, without a hint of irony: werewolves, and witches and vampires; ghosts and various examples of Universal’s Monsters were well represented. Shrunken heads, and mummies and zombies. Evil glaring pumpkins; cut outs of the Addams family and Jack Skellington. Jason absolutely loved it. It may not have gotten the same fully warm reception the crowd had extended to the other entries, but as James pointed out more of the clever and sophisticated details, people began expressing admiration for the creative efforts, for the handmade ornaments as well as the store-bought ones, and for the overall effect. It was a tree that could easily find a welcome place among Halloween festivities. Or for me, Jason thought, year round.

It was time to vote on the winners. As a woman next to Jason explained now, basically everyone won; it is just a matter of who won more.

Votes were cast and the ballots placed in boxes on a table along the side of the room. Everyone could only vote once, but they could cast a vote for all three, or just one, if they wanted. Jason cast a vote for all three.

He walked the two blocks back to the restaurant with a group of people, everyone chatting and in happy moods.

More desserts were brought out, and coffee and other liquid refreshments were offered. Jason learned some of the crowd had gone to church services and were just now returning for the light breakfast being served then. Everything looked enticing, but Jason could eat no more. He stayed hydrated, however, alternating water with juice as he continued to enjoy more glasses of wine.

Live music was playing again now, and Jason took a seat to relax and listen a while. He was growing tired but he did not want to miss a moment of all of this. Other people were gathering to sit and listen now. The wonderful evening was slowly winding down.

Three singers and several musicians on violins, guitars and a flute began playing:

“Dear friends and companions, come join me in rhyme,

Come lift up your voices in chorus with mine.

Let us drink and be merry, all grief to refrain,

For we may and might never, all meet here again.

Here’s a toast to the company, all present and past;

Let us drink and be merry, all out of one glass.

Let us drink and be merry, all grief to refrain,

For we may and might never, all meet here again.”

This was a song familiar to Jason from attending Renaissance Faires! An old song he imagined, finding new life among the Genier’s festivities.

Jason was caught up in the words and the sentiment. The girl sang with an emotion filled lilting voice. The song was quite beautifully done. Where is Augere? he wondered, thinking he might enjoy this. He turned his full attention to the music once more, as a second chorus began. Then the song segued into Auld Lang Syne. The lyrics seemed altered somewhat, maybe to reflect the family’s preferences. Jason had never heard the song played and sung so slowly, nor the softly spoken words delivered with such bittersweet sadness:

“If never we should meet again, by land or by sea,

I will remember always your kindness to me.

And here’s a hand to trust, my friend

And give a hand of thine

And we will take a cup of kindness yet…for auld lang syne.

For auld lang syne, my dear, for auld lang syne

We will take a cup of kindness yet, for auld lang syne.

Should old acquaintance be forgot? And never brought to mind?

For although we traversed all the world…

Our hearts remained behind.

And until we gather here again, until your eyes meet mine,

Let us take a cup of kindness now

For auld lang syne. For auld lang syne, my dear,

For auld lang syne. We will take a cup of kindness…”

The words and music affected Jason more deeply than he could have guessed; his reaction to the sentiments expressed surprised him and nearly moved him to tears. To think I might never have experienced this if I had not come back. The warmth and generosity of these people… All around him others were softly singing the heartfelt words along with the musicians and tears were common among the diversely aged crowd. As the song concluded Jason realized Augere was standing next to him.

“It is quite beautiful and very moving.” Augere’s softly spoken words seemed meant only for Jason to hear. “They include all of their past family and friends in their remembrance as if they are among them still. That is why—so many tears. They perform this every year and I do not think they could do without it.”

Jason was touched by Augere’s acknowledgement and the feeling he expressed. It was right for James to include him and insist Augere be part of this. James understood this and now Jason knew it was true: Augere did seem to derive something good from all of this, no matter how much he might protest his presence and participation. It meant something to him; it was something he could relate to and be part of.

It was time to announce the winners of the tree decorating event. James and Allen took the podium. The entries had won in the order they had been presented. The winners of the first prize announced they wished for Mr. Augere to come to the podium so all the teams could thank him personally for his generosity throughout the year. They would then claim their unannounced prize. This ought to be interesting, Jason thought.

James looked a little uncomfortable at the podium. Jason observed Allen’s concerned look as well.

“I…uh…I don’t believe Mr. Augere is available now…”

The murmurs of the crowd said otherwise as people began to realize Augere was in fact standing among them. Apparently, this was quite a rare event.

“He’s here!” someone shouted out.

Augere, standing beside Jason, appeared calm and composed. He made no move.

“Mr. Augere! Come up to the podium!” people were shouting out. James definitely appeared quite uncomfortable now as he spotted Augere standing among the crowd.

“All right, yes. Mr. Augere, would you mind please?”

Augere shot James a look Jason was not able to interpret. Slowly, reluctantly, he began to move toward the podium.

As the winning team stood to the side, waiting their turns to collect their prizes and to personally thank Augere, Jason noticed the group of girls, Linea, and her posse, waiting with the other teams. It figures! Jason thought. Those girls had come up with the dark themed tree.

Augere stood on the podium now, with James by his side. As the teams came up they spoke briefly to Augere; some of them hugged him as he stood there somewhat woodenly. Oh, no, Jason thought. But he seems to be holding up okay. By the time the teen quartet reached the stage, their excitement at seeing Augere was palpable. James and Allen handed out the actual prizes so Augere would not have to. But as far as the teams interacting with him, there was not much the brothers could do to prevent this, not in front of everyone.

Linea and the other girls: Kyla, Miche, and Mignon, gushed at him, all trying to talk at once. They regarded him as if he was a celebrity, a rock star gracing them with his presence and granting a not so private audience. Augere’s somewhat pained expression sought out Jason’s face in the crowd— Jason nodded encouragement to him. The girls, each one in turn, hugged Augere, as James and Allen could only helplessly stand by and watch. Augere managed to get through it. He seemed a little more at ease after catching Jason’s eye, and even flirted with the girls briefly. They each fairly floated off the stage, joyful at having physically put hands on their very elusive and attractive obsession. Even Jason breathed a sigh of relief when it was over. He began to gather up his things and headed for the exit. He passed Linea and her group on the way. Each of them was scanning their cell phones.

“No—me either! Not a single one is any good! They’re all blurry! How could he be blurry in ALL of our camera phones? It just doesn’t make sense! Let me see that one of yours again, Mignon—nope. Yours is the best one and you still can’t quite see him clearly! Damn! I just can’t believe none of us got a single good photo of him!”

“Let’s ask around; SOMEBODY must have gotten good clear pictures of him with all of the cameras that were here tonight.”

Jason smiled to himself as he walked by and overheard their conversation. He had wondered about that too—all the cameras taking so many photos. Augere must have some way to thwart all of that. Jason found that rather remarkable.

It was past 2 a.m. and he had already been tired since the previous morning as it was. He was looking forward to getting to the hotel now. It was a walk of just a few blocks; he wondered if he should wait for Augere. His bed and the promise of sleep seductively called out to him; he was ready to go now.

Near the doorway Jason found James and Augere in a fond embrace. They were speaking quietly and seemed oblivious to their surroundings. Jason was touched by the moment, and the open display of affection between the two. It cheered him a little to witness this. Carrie had been moved to tears to think Augere was alone in the world and he had come to realize this was probably true. But the Geniers were warm, affectionately demonstrative people. Jason had been able to experience this for himself. He was glad for Augere’s sake they thought so well of him and that they had in fact become the equivalent of family to him.

He began to feel he was being intrusive, but the two were unselfconscious. A moment later, they both walked toward Jason. James wished them both a good night and a Merry Christmas. He embraced Jason. “I will see you both tomorrow. Christmas Day brunch. You will both be there.” It was not a question. They both responded with a nod.

As they began walking back to their hotel, Jason was already yawning. He looked at Augere. “Are you ready for sleep too?”

“More than you can ever begin to imagine,” Augere answered softly.

Jason was asleep as soon as he hit the pillow. He dreamt peacefully for a while until his dream took a strange turn. He was in a city reminiscent of New Orleans, but with a subway system like Boston’s. There seemed a strong European influence too, somewhat like Montreal, except there were canals like those of Venice. Jason made his way through the strangely familiar landscape, all the while being pursued by a sexy, alluring and somewhat androgynous vampire. The creature would appear suddenly around corners or step out of doorways, never with a clear view of its facial features, and it seemed to want more from Jason than just his blood… He always just managed to elude the swiftly moving creature only to be pursued once again.

Now he was being gently shaken awake…by a sexy alluring vampire… The room was dark…he was ready for the enticing yet nightmarish dream to be over but he was having difficulty separating himself from the dream state. He became fully awake suddenly as he realized something was pressing against his shoulder. He gasped as he struggled to see in the darkness and tried to sit up. Augere had him firmly pressed to the bed with one hand.

“Mr. Augere! What is it? What’s going on?” Jason’s whispered words rose out of a sudden intense fear.

“Be still and quiet.” Augere’s slow whispered words admonished him. “I believe there is something here you might wish to see.”

Augere slowly released his hold, and Jason’s first thought was to leap out of bed and away from him, for all the good it might do. But then Jason sensed another presence in the room and he struggled to see in the darkness to try to determine who or what it was.

Augere took a step backward as Jason tried to follow his gaze to look beyond him. As his eyes began to adjust to wakefulness and to the dark, they quickly widened. A young girl was standing in his room.

She couldn’t be more than eight or ten, he guessed. In the ambient light he could make out the pastel vision of her hair, her skin, and the long frilly dress she wore, all of the same pale hue. Her hair had to be a light blonde shade; her dress, white or ivory perhaps; a long faded pink sash on the dress matched the one in her long curly hair. She wore small pink shoes. Even in the dim light he could distinguish her heart-shaped face, her sweet expression. Her startling blue eyes were luminous and fixed upon him with intelligent inquiry. She seemed to be studying him intently.

Who was she? Why had he brought her to his room? She seemed curious about him also, but then abruptly turned her gaze from him to Augere. She took two steps toward him. Augere reached out his hand to her. She came to him and he bent to her ear and whispered something to her. She placed her pale hand in his even paler one.

She was now nearly close enough for Jason to reach out and touch her. His eyes were accustomed fully to the available light and now he could see how truly pale she was; could see her long eyelashes, and then became startled as he realized suddenly, he saw the desk and chair behind her, visible through her diaphanous form.

He sat fully upright then, staring, wondering if he might still be dreaming. And then he understood. He stared at her in wonder. She simply took his breath away.

She was looking up at Augere now. Her lips were moving…Jason could hear no sound, but Augere bent to her again, his white cheek nearly touching her own. Again he whispered something to her. Then he straightened up and nodded at her. And then…suddenly…she was gone. In an instant she had just completely vanished.

“Oh! Where did she go?” Jason asked glancing around the dark room.

“She seems to understand her parents are dead…but not that she is also. She is searching for them. I suggested where she might look.”

“She was real…I mean an intelligent presence. That was just absolutely amazing…!”

“Yes. You can return to your slumber now.”

Jason nodded slowly in the darkness knowing Augere would be able to see the gesture.

Wait—what? Sleep? Was he kidding? He had just witnessed an intelligent interacting full body apparition. No. There would be no sleeping now.

“She was looking right at me! Studying me! I could even see her expression change…she stood right here…a sentient presence… and it had to have been for a few minutes, at least! That—is just unheard of! It is the holy grail of paranormal experience! A full body apparition lasting several minutes…”

Augere had already turned to leave.

“Wait! Please! How did she happen to be here—with you? Was she just walking around? Or did she float…? How could you tell what she said? Was she—”

“Tomorrow. Sleep now,” he said quietly and then left.

Jason was exhausted but he fought sleep as he kept thinking of the phenomena he had just witnessed, going over every detail again until he couldn’t keep his eyes open any longer.

They had planned to walk to Christmas Day brunch the next morning. They were expected there by 10:30. Even after his late night, Jason was up and ready but could easily have slept a few more hours. It wasn’t just that he did not want to appear rude by refusing; he really wanted to participate in all of it, not miss any second of it.

The location was another French Quarter restaurant, where a lavish buffet had been set up. Jason was ready for coffee, and a quick glance at the many delectable items on the buffet made him instantly hungry.

Augere had accompanied him on the walk to the restaurant but there had been no time to talk about the events of last night. Jason hoped to sit down with him at some point and have a long discussion about it.

They spotted Allen first. Augere walked up to him and faced him squarely. He touched and smoothed Allen’s lapel, looking steadily in his eyes as he asked: “Why is your family not here, Allen?”

“The girls are at that age, you know. They did not want to leave their friends and parties and such in London. Their mum wouldn’t come without them of course.” He shrugged. “And our son wanted to ski with his cousins in Switzerland. But they are all eager to come to New Orleans next year. They were torn in their decision this year and you know they rarely miss this.”

“Your acquired accent is ever more noticeable.” Augere smiled just slightly. Allen laughed.

“When did you speak to Terrance last?” Augere’s expression abruptly turned serious.

“Am I supposed to be in contact with him?” Allen replied with a quick look of surprise, not missing a beat.

Augere seemed taken a little off guard. He gave Allen another small smile then. “No. I suppose not.” Augere resumed smoothing Allen’s lapel for a moment and then withdrew. “It is quite good to see you again. You handled things quite well recently. It is appreciated.”

“Thank you, Mr. Augere. Just doing my job.”

Jason had discreetly observed the interaction with great interest. The mention of Terrance’s name had almost made him involuntarily flinch, but he did not. It appeared Allen had handled himself very well too just now.

Jason took the offer of a Mimosa from a passing tray, and then spotted James across the room. A few minutes later he found a moment to speak to him alone.

“There was a problem—an incident at the hotel,” Jason began hesitantly.

James expression quickly became one of alarm. “What happened?”

Jason explained about the broken window. “I think it is partly my fault though. I didn’t even think to check to see if there are individual thermostats—and I suggested maybe he should open a window—”

James sighed heavily, shaking his head. “Oh no, not again. This is what he does. He is going to get himself blacklisted from every hotel in the city. Next time I swear I will put him up in the worst trashy place I can find, miles from anywhere…” Then he sighed. “No, that won’t work either. Okay, thanks for letting me know. I’ll call them. Or perhaps…we can sneak our own repair men in and take care of it…”

Jason nodded meekly.

James managed a weak smile. “How are things going otherwise?”

“Good.” Jason nodded. “Very good.”

They were joined then by Augere and Allen, and the four of them began to mingle. People seemed very surprised to see Augere. He appeared to be calm and at ease. It seemed there were some whispered comments, none of which Jason personally heard, however; but he did notice many curious glances.

They found a table and then James and Allen took off for a private huddle. Jason wasn’t quite ready to eat yet, trying to curb some of his hunger with coffee and the Mimosa, knowing he would overdo it otherwise. In fact the refreshing Mimosa suited him and he desired to have another one now. He stood up.

“You are leaving?” Augere asked suddenly. Jason thought he heard a hint of panic in his voice.

“Just getting a drink,” Jason replied.

“Will you be gone long? Will you be somewhere…close?” Augere asked in what sounded like a worried tone. Jason guessed there could have been insecurity there as well. This was something unexpected and, he thought, possibly rare from Augere.

“No. Not somewhere close…”

“I see,” Augere accepted softly, without looking at Jason.

Jason motioned to one of the waiters as he stood.

“Right here.” He sat down again next to Augere. A waiter carrying a tray of drinks came over a few moments later. Jason removed two glasses from the tray and placed one in front of Augere. Augere made no comment, but Jason thought he sensed his feeling of relief. It was very hard to guess with Augere what he might be thinking or feeling at any particular moment. Perhaps, Jason thought, I’m only supposing what might be going on in that mind.

Jason was content to sit, surveying the congenial atmosphere of the Genier family, friends, and associates as they mingled. He was content with Augere’s silent company.

He thought about his own family today. He did miss them. But they were enjoying themselves right now, and so was he: Augere. New Orleans. Genier hospitality. Holiday cheer, food and beverage in excess. It could not be any better. Jason sipped at the tasty drink. Oh, yeah, and seeing his first ever full body apparition. Perfect. He nodded. This trip was really going well.

Soon James returned with a small plate of food, and sat with Augere, and Jason went to the buffet line. He returned and sat with Augere as James left again. Allen returned with some food and set a plate down, and then left. It appeared they all had the same thought without conferring about it: keep Augere company so he would not feel uncomfortable.

Jason noticed a subtle shift in Augere suddenly. If he had not, by habit now, been so attentive to him, he might not have noticed. But he did. He stole a glance at Augere. The features were tense as he directed a cold stare across the room. Jason took a discreet glance in that direction. He saw two people approaching whom he recognized: Matt and his son Sean. They were making their way across the room and it seemed to Jason they were heading for this table.

Both James and Allen suddenly reappeared, each with food or drink in hand, and they sat down just as Matt and Sean reached the table.

Father and son offered greetings and Christmas wishes to all at the table and all responded cordially except for Augere, who made no acknowledgement of them. He sat coldly silent, in a casual pose, legs crossed, one arm dangling from the chair arm. The two men soon moved on. A brief palpable tension folded around the table. Now what was that all about? Jason wondered. He didn’t have long to reflect on it, however.

A live jazz band began playing and some people were up and dancing. The soft lights and cheery elaborate decorations helped to create a festive atmosphere. This was an especially beautiful time to enjoy the city, with its holiday best in evidence everywhere. More people came to the table to extend their good wishes; Augere nodded to them, but rarely said more than a word. It seemed he was being more than just tolerant though; he appeared to be more relaxed now, and even somewhat contented.

“Jason, you will be joining us for the bonfires, tomorrow evening I hope?” James asked. “There will be some spectacular fireworks too. We are expecting quite a few people; there will be extra warm clothing available if it is needed.”

“Yes, sure. I’m really looking forward to that. Are you going too, Mr. Augere?” Jason asked. He got a nod.

“Tonight a lot of people will want to get home and spend private time with family and then maybe attend some of the festivities later on. Do the two of you have any plans for tonight?”

Augere and Jason looked at each other. It appeared they did not.

“You are welcome to join us for a late night buffet at the Laissez Les Bon Temps Roulez Cafe.”

“I had something similar in mind,” Augere stated pointedly to James.

James looked at him and nodded slowly. “Would you like me to accompany you? I could drive.” Augere seemed to reflect on this, and reluctantly stated that yes, perhaps he could.

“Jason, I’ll give you the address; maybe you will join us at the buffet later on then?”

Jason said he might. He wasn’t sure what was going on, but it appeared James and Augere were going somewhere together that evening.

Jason walked back to the hotel, feeling pleasantly stuffed once again, really needing that postprandial stroll, and then some, to help work off the excesses of the past days.

Once he got to his room he immediately flung himself onto the bed. He needed a quick nap. He was really exhausted, but he couldn’t sleep. After a restless half hour he realized it was going to be dinnertime soon. More significantly, it was already cocktail hour. He decided to go to the hotel bar, maybe have a brandy, and then try again to sleep for a while, to be rested and refreshed for more activity later tonight.

While seated and enjoying the bar’s specialty drink, a Voodoo Cocktail, he overheard two young men talking excitedly several feet away. He recognized the logo on some equipment bags they had with them, and on one of the guy’s T-shirts: it was the name of a paranormal organization familiar to him. He eavesdropped, intrigued by their comments.

After a few minutes he approached them and introductions were made. He told them he had done a fair amount of paranormal investigating himself. They identified themselves as out of town members of a local group, as Jason had suspected, and then the three of them shared anecdotes from their personal experiences. The men explained they had never investigated this hotel before, but they knew it to be quite paranormally active by reputation, especially at this time of the year. They had booked their hotel room months in advance.

Jason was very eager to share his recent experience, with anyone, and these guys were the perfect recipients. He had no proof of what he had seen though, and naturally he could not mention Augere. He couldn’t really provide many background details of the whole incident either. It would sound like empty bragging; a made up story with vague details to impress two strangers. It was frustrating.

Jason asked if they had had any experiences yet. Maybe they had seen something of the young transparent girl too. Not yet, they told him, but were hopeful this would be the night. They expected to capture and record something.

“Like—EVP? Mysterious activity?” Jason wanted to know what they knew about any alleged hauntings there.

“Yeah, some of that. That is what several people got last year. But the year before that—a half body apparition just appeared: head and torso—a woman in a grey dress—floating for just a few seconds, in a hallway. We weren’t here; we just heard about it. That’s the kind of thing we’re hoping to catch, maybe on film.”

“Rather impressive.” Jason nodded. He was excited at the thought of seeing something like that too. To add to his already unique experiences. “And what floor was that on?” They replied it was on the 3rd.

“That’s my floor! I wish I had brought more of my equipment. But I do have two cameras, a digital and a 35mm. I hope I get to see something.” Else, he thought, eager for more of the kind of encounter Augere had provided for him.

They exchanged emails and promised to share whatever each experienced here. The two men said they would be around for a few more days yet.

Damn. If only he had some proof, maybe he could have told his story. The incident had only lasted a few minutes—but that would have been long enough to get some photos. Without tangible proof he did not feel comfortable sharing any circumstances of the event; lies would be inevitable, especially any part of it concerning Augere.

He had another drink but was still too restless to return to his room to try to sleep. He took a walk around the French Quarter. Christmas Day. There were some people around, more than he had thought there would be. He was contented and peaceful and he leisurely took some photos of the cheerful displays and decorations around the city.

He arrived back at the hotel in time to see James drop Augere off and Jason was startled at the sight of him: Augere was wearing clothes that did not suit him at all—they were bland, oversized and plain looking, like workmen’s clothes. He also had leaves, mud and twigs clinging to him. What on earth? Jason said nothing, and Augere headed to his room without a word. It left Jason trying to imagine what he and James had been up to.

He got himself ready for the evening’s event and was waiting in the lobby for the car to pick them up, when Augere appeared behind him, impeccably dressed as usual. He appeared calm, languid. Jason took note of his eyes now: they were brilliantly violet with a hint of blue. This seemed to confirm his suspicions. But he seriously doubted Augere had just killed someone, especially with James along. An animal was more like it. But Jason was a little stunned to realize this. It was still so recently that he had finally conceded what Augere truly was. Yet how all of this worked was still something of a mystery to him. He had to acknowledge there was much he still did not know. And though he was intensely curious he was still not quite ready to be fully exposed to all of the truth just yet. The facts of Augere’s existence had been something he had been desperate to learn. Now he needed more time to absorb facts and details more slowly.

The late night buffet was in a part of town Jason was not yet familiar with, a place with a homey feel to it and excellent food and drink to go with the atmosphere. There were some local specialties he had never tried before and he felt adventurous. He was surprised to learn that once again Augere would be present when others were eating. He had been led to think this would be an uncomfortable experience for him. Now Jason began to question even things he thought he knew.

But Augere remained in a private salon apart from the others and out of sight for the most part. James and Allen were attentive to him, as was Jason, and he seemed content alone, sipping wine. So, this is how they handle this kind of situation, Jason surmised.

He was introduced to James’ wife, Lisette, whom James affectionately referred to as “my Creole beauty.” Jason noticed the radiant look in James’ eyes when he looked at his wife. It made him think of Zavi suddenly, and he thought probably he already had that similar look of pure affection whenever he looked at her. And Lisette truly was a beauty: with her pale complexion, petite, girlish figure, and her long shiny dark hair worn in a casually layered style. She had kind eyes that were a stunning deep blue and a most genial and gracious smile readily lit up her face. Jason was charmed by her casually sophisticated air. He was deeply touched that she greeted him as if he was an old friend of the family. Jason met the Genier’s two children, a boy and girl aged nine and eleven, Deveraux and Taraleigh. The children mirrored their parents’ looks, and Jason noted how socially poised they both were. Lisette asked about Mr. Augere, and James explained he was tired and had wanted to come only if he could be off by himself. Jason noticed her somewhat dubious expression, and was surprised she hadn’t seen him at all yet. She mentioned that she hoped Mr. Augere would be up for some dancing during the next day or so. Had Jason heard her right? Augere had not seemed in the least tired to Jason, not once lately. As he wondered if it was possible for Augere to even get fatigued, the very mention of being tired had made him yawn.

When Augere learned it was 1:30 a.m. he announced he had to leave now, and Jason was glad to accompany him back to the hotel, driven by private car. Jason had just picked a little at the buffet and still managed to eat more than he should have. It was all so good but he really needed sleep more than anything else now and he could not wait to fall into bed, knowing he would definitely sleep good and sound tonight.

He did sleep soundly, but not for long. He restlessly began to toss and turn, his sleep inexplicably interrupted. He plumped his pillows and drifted off again, only to be pulled back to wakefulness. He lay with his eyes shut, focusing on sleep, but there was…something… A sound. He sleepily opened one eye; tried to listen awhile but then drifted off again. And then just as quickly, the sound returned. It was an indistinct sound that woke him again. He lay in bed, trying to hear it once more. He strained to hear for several long moments. Nothing. Maybe it was just some fragment of a dream or even his tired imagination.

He rolled onto his other side, his face pressed sideways into his pillow, and he began to drift off again. But there it was now…a rising, moaning sound. He heard it more clearly this time. He opened both eyes as he rolled onto his back. He lay there, NOT wanting to hear anything—but then it was present again. He just wanted to go back to sleep. It was a woman’s voice; he could detect that now, a little more clearly. A soft moaning sound which grew louder; a cry of pain and then more moaning. Then a softer, more plaintive sound. He propped up on one elbow, listening. The same sounds again—distinct and disturbing. Someone was hurt, in pain; crying out and moaning, and it was happening close enough for him to hear it. A female was definitely in distress.

He got out of bed and pressed his ear to his door, listening out to the hallway. He knew he needed to call down to the desk to let them know, so they could investigate. He heard the sounds again, sharper and louder this time. But it wasn’t coming from the corridor. He stepped back and then eyed the connecting door between his room and Augere’s.

As he approached that door to listen, the cries and moans were more insistent and almost rhythmic. As he stood listening at Augere’s door, certain now this was the source of the sounds, he became scared and horrified. He couldn’t call down to the desk. Not if Augere was involved in this. What was going on? Was he attacking someone, right here in the hotel? Jason began to feel physically ill. Hadn’t he just…killed….something—earlier that evening?

He continued with his ear to the door, wanting to stop listening, but unable to do so. The moaning grew, faded, rose again, rhythmically, almost in synch with the sound of …bed springs…Jason blushed suddenly. Then he listened a little longer, until he was fairly certain. He climbed back into bed and pulled the covers up around his neck, settling in again to get back to sleep.

No one was in any pain in that room, unless it was the pain of pleasure. He shook his head again before resting it on his pillow once more.

But he was still unable to sleep. The sounds of pleasure and gratification continued unabated, occurring steadily and sounding clearly through the thin walls. Jason realized he would just have to wait it out. Embarrassment flamed through him at being witness to Augere’s private activities.

He can’t keep this up indefinitely, Jason thought.

He was wrong. When he checked his bedside clock again, for the fourth time, it was two hours later, 4:30 a.m., and the varying cadence of the pleasurable sounds still emanated clearly from Augere’s room.

“Unbelievable.” Jason shook his head; his only real option was to lie awake, waiting. The sounds continued throughout the night. By the time the first light of dawn crept into his room through a small space in the heavy curtains, either the pleasurable activities had ceased, or Jason had finally been able to overcome the evidence of it, because he had drifted off to sleep. And with Augere’s room finally silent, Jason managed to sleep in a little longer.

When he had showered and dressed he came out to the hotel courtyard by late morning with a cup of strong coffee in hand and found Augere sitting outside enjoying the quiet and peaceful setting and the gently refreshing breeze. Augere’s pose was casual, his legs crossed, his expression serene as he greeted Jason with a single nod. Jason returned the same. He marveled that Augere did not appear to look at all tired. He should be.

“I think I am going to need more coffee,” Jason announced. “In fact I’m certain of it.”

“Do you want to walk? To the usual place?” Augere asked. Jason hadn’t thought of that, but yes, sure, why not. But then suddenly he had another idea. It came to him spontaneously—he wanted to go to the Maspero, and he wanted Augere to go with him.

He had already been able to reclaim the joy of the city, having put the misery of that painful week behind him for the most part. But now he had a chance to take it further; to replace any negative with positive. Whatever might happen in the future, he could look back on this and remind himself how good it had once been. He knew it was a little crazy; and probably unnecessary. It would make sense, and have any real meaning or significance, only to him. But he wanted this. He suddenly saw it as a weird kind of closure he still needed.

He made no mention of the plan to Augere. They could take a different route and just happen to walk past there. And then he would just appear to spontaneously change his mind, and want to go in.

As they were approaching the Maspero, Augere, who had said nothing about the circuitous route so far, now seemed to catch on.

“Why?” he asked, as they slowed down at the entrance.

“Just got hungry, suddenly. They have good food here.” Jason shrugged. “Or, maybe just coffee.”

Jason received another of Augere’s inscrutable looks so he quickly entered the Maspero with Augere reluctantly following. Jason glanced around the room. Damn. No staff he recognized were present. Probably because of the holiday most of the regular staff were off work. Except, he realized now, the bartender, who gave Jason a blank look at first, and then a wary one, as he now seemed to recognize him.

Jason selected the seat he had been sitting in that day, the first time he had met Augere. Augere took the seat opposite, the same one he had on that day also.

“Now what.” Augere seemed amused.

Jason gave him a small smile. When the waitress arrived he ordered a muffaletta. This amused Augere even more. Augere ordered a root beer float, which wasn’t on the menu, but the girl said she would make him one.

“Are you actually going to drink that?” Jason asked, surprised, after the waitress had left.

“Absolutely not.” Augere’s serious tone of voice matched his expression.

It was all coming back to him now, all the little details. He had already gone over all of it in his mind before. Now he looked at Augere and began speaking out loud the words he was thinking to himself.

“I remember…I wanted something in particular…one of the local specialties…” He watched the server bring the food to the table. “This sandwich…” He nodded, as that meal was now placed in front of him. “But I ordered something else instead…a salad. It was very strange.” He frowned, shaking his head.

He turned a suspicious look at Augere. “How did you happen to be here that day?”

“I was waiting for you.”

“Waiting…? How could you know I would be here?”

Augere shrugged. “Your…habit.”

“But it was only my second time coming here.”

Augere shrugged again.

“I still don’t know…it puzzles me…I like salad; but I hadn’t thought to have any just then…” He looked squarely at Augere then, as if the entire mystery rested with him.

“You were coming to work for me.” Augere paused then and glanced away. “It was important for you to be healthy.”

Jason was stunned. He nearly laughed out loud, and had to quickly swallow the bite of food in his mouth. “Can you make me…do things? You can control me?”

He gazed intently into Augere’s eyes. Eyes that could make the rest of the world disappear. And he was a little fearful of him suddenly.

“No, of course not.” Augere’s words had a hard edge to them. Then his tone grew softer. “It does not work that way. I cannot make you do anything.” He sighed heavily then, shaking his head. “How much easier everything in my existence would be if that were only so. Regarding all of you.” He paused then, his gaze directed squarely at Jason. “Is that why you came here? To become upset over this?”

“No…I…I’m just very surprised.” But he HAD been able to influence me, somehow. And just how did that occur?

Augere’s gaze turned toward the window and passersby.

“And when I went to the other—Maspero—it was totally by chance I was there that day. But—then you just happened to walk in.” Jason recalled Terrance’s comments, how he had given Augere a different perspective to consider. An action that had had huge consequences. He truly believed Terrance had set things in motion that had led Augere to seek him out. But how could he have found me so easily?

“Could it not have been by chance? Coincidence.” Augere stated, looking at him again.

Too farfetched. No way.

Jason shook his head. “I have a hard time believing my fate was wholly dependent on just chance.”

“As much could be said for anyone,” Augere replied with a shrug, as he glanced away again.

“Did I have a choice? In coming to work for you?” Jason suddenly had to know now. Had he simply been manipulated, all along? Truly led, against his will?

“Your will has always been your own. Perhaps some slight manipulation occurred, notwithstanding.”

Jason took a small bite of the huge sandwich again, chewing thoughtfully. Augere’s reply seemed contradictory. But it had been his own choice, hadn’t it? On a gut level he felt certain this was true. Some slight external manipulation—notwithstanding.

They were about to leave when an unexpected surprise occurred as they exited: one of the waitresses, who had been especially kind to Jason, had come in for the next shift. They looked each other in the eyes. Jason beamed a wide smile at her, indicating Augere with a discreet nod of his head. She looked Augere over and got wide eyed and then she looked at Jason again, with a questioning look. He nodded and then she gave him a wide grin, nodding back. In total non-verbal communication, she had understood—the object of his quest: found. Somehow that she, that someone else, knew this now was immensely gratifying to him in a bizarrely amusing way and being able to acknowledge and validate the fact made Jason very happy.

Jason left half of the large sandwich and drank down half of Augere’s untouched root beer float before they left.

The two walked along Decatur toward Jackson Square, with no particular plan. They sat on benches near the levee and took in the activities around them: tourists mingling, horse drawn carriages parked or passing by, artists and street musicians engaged in their own various activities.

Several booths were set up along St. Ann Street, offering a variety of handmade things to buy. Among these were several tables where one could get a tarot card reading.

Augere appeared to be focused on one table in particular. He nodded toward one woman, eyes fixed on her at a distance. “I think we should make inquiries.”

Something about that idea disturbed Jason. He couldn’t say why for sure. It was not something he was personally opposed to, having had an amazing reading himself not that long ago. He just suddenly felt uneasy with the thought of it.

“Well—you go ahead then,” Jason replied.

“Fate; coincidence; destiny; chance. Or choice. Have you no desire to know?”

Suddenly, he didn’t. No. The idea was inexplicably frightening to him just now; uncharacteristically so. Let nothing ruin this wonderful time. Let’s both of us enjoy this peace and contentment, together, for as long as we can. The past is past and the unknown future can wait.

“No. Really. You go, if you really must.”

“You must come also.” That authoritative tone again.

Once again I yield to the vampire. Jason sighed and reluctantly got to his feet. They paused in front of the table that had held Augere’s focus.

The round table had a small canopy over it, formed by two large purple cloths with Celtic symbols on them tied over two plastic standing poles. A black tablecloth with a silver square centered on it had white candles positioned at either end. There were several folding chairs, and one upturned milk crate held a cushion, for seating. Three different decks of tarot cards rested on the table, along with a few small esoteric objects; some talismans were in evidence and Jason thought the latter were possibly intended for protection as well as lending ambience. He had the impression the reader might not be quite the real thing; perhaps even someone just catering to the tourist trade. His discomfort with the idea of this remained.

The fortyish woman had a colorful scarf tied like a hairband across her head, with the long loose ends draping her shoulders. She asked Augere if he wanted the tarot cards, a palm reading, or both.

“What do you suggest?”

“Well, let me see your palms.”

He leaned back slightly and raised both of his palms for her to see.

She shook her head. “I really need to take hold of your hands.”

He shook his head. He would not.

“Okay. Well…I will just have a look then. But it is not as accurate, you understand?” He nodded hesitantly. “We shall see what we shall see.” She spoke with a slight foreign accent, one Jason couldn’t quite place.

She leaned forward and gazed intently at Augere’s raised palms.

“For one so young, you have lived the equivalent of many lifetimes. You are born under the sign of Libra. There is a constant struggle with opposing forces and an attempt to balance these. You must learn to trust others and be more open to what they can offer…” She frowned. “You must…a long and unbroken line…unwavering…extraordinary.” She fairly whispered these last words and then there was a long pause. She was staring intently at his hands. When she spoke again, it was in an even softer, more dreamlike voice.

“…no attachment to this world…” She shook her head slowly, and had a faraway look in her eyes now. Jason doubted her sincerity, but maybe she had gotten some things right. Still, she could be putting on an act.

Then she began to mumble a few words in French. Jason was too surprised to catch the meaning of some of them. She began to sway slightly. “No…! Do not praise the child’s beauty…” she whispered, and Jason heard what sounded like a gasp from Augere. “…the envy of angels…! I must protect them… Protect them!” These words were spoken in French and then in English, in a strongly pleading tone. Real or fake, this was just about enough. Fascinating as it was, Jason felt strongly they should just go now. Even Augere had withdrawn from her a little, and then he became quite tense. Jason did not like any of this. It was making him uncomfortable for reasons he couldn’t name.

The woman was silent now; her eyes were half closed. What a performance! Jason thought sarcastically. But he felt uneasy; He experienced a taste of fear he could not explain to himself. Enough of this already.

She began to sway again slightly. “C’etait la malaise…je suis desolee…je suis desolee… C’etait moi qui l’a fait! … je ne voudrais pas que tu me laisse…” The woman had begun chanting the French words very rapidly and it truly seemed as if she was in a trance. She kept repeating some of the same phrases over and over.

“Who is speaking?” Augere demanded sharply. Then he spoke several rapid sentences to her in French; Jason barely caught the meaning of much that was said.

The woman stopped suddenly in mid phrase and blinked several times. She stared at the two of them now for several long moments in silence. And then she shook herself lightly as if to shake off unwanted thought or feeling, or as if trying to wake from a dream state.

She looked at Augere in surprise, as if uncertain when and why he had appeared there before her.

“Who was speaking!?” he demanded again.

“Please,” she pleaded, “I am feeling ill…I cannot…not feeling well…a little dizzy…” She raised her palm as if to ward him off. She looked pale and shaky suddenly. Her mouth went slack briefly and her eyes were staring wildly now.

“Yeah, we really should go now.” Jason stood abruptly. “What does he owe you?” he asked the woman.

“No. Please—” She made a dismissive gesture. She just wanted them to go.

Augere continued to sit, watching her intently.

Jason took out a $20 bill, and placed it on the table.

He turned and left the woman, hoping Augere would follow him. Several minutes passed before he did so. Augere had stood and appeared to have been speaking to the woman again, from what Jason could see as he stood just outside the canopied area, but he heard none of what was said. Finally, and reluctantly, Augere joined him as Jason was already walking away down St. Ann toward Royal Street.

They were moving in the direction of the hotel now. Jason did not want to intrude on Augere’s thoughts, and his own occupied him at present.

He could translate the expression: “I am sorry,” which had been repeated over and over. And what might have been “I did that.” But did this hold any particular significance for Augere? Here was another mystery. He was curious but he was too emotionally uncomfortable with what he had witnessed to pursue it just now.

They had time to rest a while before the Geniers would arrive to pick them up to attend the bonfire event to be held along the riverbank. Apparently there were enough Geniers they were able to arrange their own private event apart from the city’s.

They were picked up by private car and driven out to the site of an old plantation. People were already camped, sitting in folding chairs, along the shore. The materials had already been gathered and put in place for the bonfires.

The traditional bonfires, Jason had learned, were held on Christmas Eve. But the Geniers chose December 26 as their day to enjoy the tradition. A crowd of approximately 150 of the Genier party boarded a paddlewheel boat at the levee, with the plan to cruise along the river for the best views, while others opted to remain on shore for the spectacle. Elaborate fireworks started off the event. Musical entertainment and a full dinner were available on the boat, as well as an open bar.

The fireworks alone were quite spectacular, just as James had promised, and the bonfire flames rose higher than Jason had expected to see. Altogether it was quite an event and the effect as seen from the river was incomparable. Jason was glad to be part of yet another fun and festive occasion, carried out Genier style; they seemed to prefer their own way of doing things and Jason had no complaint with any of it.

With a contented smile James watched Augere’s rapt attention as the fireworks went off. Jason was impressed at how captivated Augere seemed with the spectacle too.

Afterward Augere seemed reticent to mingle and stayed close to James and Allen. Jason met more of the Genier family, and a few of their employees. Everyone was upbeat and very much in a party mood. He was tired now but buoyed by all of the good cheer around him.

“You’re surviving admirably well!” Allen observed of Jason later, with a wide smile. “Although, you are looking rather tired. Not trying to burn the candle at both ends are you? Or are we wearing you down?” He laughed.

“Actually, I really do need some sleep,” Jason admitted. He stifled a yawn. He had been sleep deprived for a variety of reasons practically every night since their arrival.

“James is trying to talk Mr. Augere into staying until after New Year’s. I don’t think he shall succeed though.”

Jason nodded his relief. Too much of a good thing. “I can’t even think what day of the week it is. But—I think we are leaving—day after tomorrow, maybe?”

Allen nodded. “Still plenty of time to squeeze in a few more parties.” He laughed again. “We Geniers know how to overdo it.”

Jason shook his head, laughing also.

James approached Jason then and handed him a Southern Comfort and Coke: “One of your preferences, right?”

Jason gratefully accepted it. “Mr. Genier…I don’t know if it is appropriate to ask, but since so much of this is still new to me… I was wondering…did you take Mr. Augere—somewhere—the other night—where he could get—you know, what he needed?”

The question seemed to take James by surprise and he studied Jason for several moments before his reply. “Don’t worry; he won’t usually ask you to do that… He has managed quite well without any of us for a very long time.” James had misinterpreted Jason’s concern, his question being asked just out of curiosity. “I asked to go with him. He made me wait in the car. It is not something any of us is ever likely to see.”

Jason nodded.

“That’s good. Though the fact of it is fascinating to me, I doubt it is anything I am ready to see for myself yet either.”

A private car brought Jason and Augere back to the hotel by nearly 11 p.m., an early night compared to most of the past few days. As eager as he was for sleep, Jason was hoping to talk to Augere for a while, now that they were alone again. He had many questions.

“I’m going to stop at the bar, for one more drink before going to bed. Would you be interested in joining me?”

Augere gave him a blank look. Jason thought his own exhaustion was probably making him more forward than usual.

But to his surprise, Augere accepted with a nod.

Augere chose the darkest lit table, one in a corner under subdued lighting, and they each ordered brandy.

Jason glanced around the bar. There were only a half dozen other patrons, among them the two paranormal investigators he had met there the day before.

“Those two guys—over there.” Jason indicated, but Augere did not turn his head to look behind him. “I met them the other day. They investigate the paranormal and they are here precisely because this hotel is haunted.”

Augere seemed disinterested. Jason sipped his drink.

After several moments, Augere stated, “There is a fortune located right below this foundation.” He was gazing at a particular area of the floor.

“What do you mean? How could you know that?”

“Because I put it there. Cash. Jewelry. Deeds and monetary instruments.” He sighed.

“You…buried it?” Jason stared at him.

“Yes.”

“But—why—how—did you bury it in such a public place?” Jason glanced around them. “Won’t it be nearly impossible for you to get to it now?”

“That is the point.” Augere sighed again.

Jason considered this for a moment. “Oh—so it wasn’t—just recently then… But some time ago…? Was this building here then, or—was it just open land?”

“There was a convent here. I expected it to remain a going concern. One does not know what the future will bring. I did not know they would build a hotel here, did I.”

“But how do you know it is still there? When the old place was taken down or when the hotel was built, it could have been discovered and—”

“It is still there.” Augere nodded confidently.

Jason nodded uncertainly and then waited for Augere to say more on the subject. When there was no further comment, he began on a different topic.

“I wanted to ask you—about that little girl…how did you happen to encounter her?”

He shrugged. “I have seen her before.”

“What? You actually know her?”

He shook his head. “Not in any real sense. Only from having stayed here before. I have seen her at other times.”

“You have encountered the same—apparition, more than once?” It seemed incredible to him. Though not unheard of, it was still quite remarkable to encounter the same entity more than once.

“But—how does it happen? How are you able to just locate her—wait, are there others besides her?”

“It appears they are drawn to my energy. They seem to seek me…to try to help them I suppose.”

“They? Then you have seen others?”

Augere nodded.

“And I saw her for an amazing several minutes—that is almost unheard of. And you had already seen her, for, what? Maybe a few minutes before that…so that makes it even more amazing…” Jason paused to reflect. “An intelligent, full body apparition, purposefully interacting, for maybe more than five minutes…I can’t get over it. If only I could have seen her longer…”

Augere frowned. “She was starting to drain my energy. I had to make her leave. She was afraid to approach you herself. I believe she thought you were something, or someone other…”

“After only a few minutes she was already draining your energy?….well, yes, to be able to manifest for that long, I guess it probably would have taken a lot of energy. And she was focused…on ME…?”

Augere tilted his head slightly. “It was more than minutes.”

“Oh…Well, about how long then, approximately?”

“An hour, at least. Or quite a bit more, possibly.”

“You maintained contact…with that apparition…” Jason stared at him for several moments. “You were able to be in her presence, interacting with her—for more than an hour…? And then I only got to see her for maybe about two—three minutes.” He paused to reflect on the wonder of this, the potential of it. “And you said she was interested—in me? That she tried to approach me?” Jason stared at Augere, who nodded once. Now he was dismayed to realize he could have had more time to experience that phenomenon. “An hour? If this should ever happen again, I really need to have more notice—to have my camera ready at least, if possible. Anything like that I would want to experience for as long as I possibly could, and be able to capture some—”

“Now?”

“What? Do you mean—you can—you could see her now, or contact her—summon her—any time?—like right now?”

“She—perhaps not. Others, maybe. Though I prefer not to do so at all.”

“You can choose?” Jason didn’t think it was possible to be more surprised. “You mean you can just select one, to interact with?”

Augere sighed. “Not precisely. But sometimes, yes.”

“And are there others, besides her, right here in this hotel?”

“Yes.”

“What else have you seen here? Because I am completely fascinated by this.” As if sitting here with a vampire, having this discussion, was not amazing enough, Jason laughed to himself.

“On the third floor, in the opposite hall from our rooms…often there is a rather deranged presence. A woman who is not pleasant to encounter. I do not know why she frequents that area and I try to avoid it. She is quite disturbing. Then there are Confederate soldiers…”

Details of his comment caught Jason’s full attention. Could that woman possibly be the same spirit those guys had been hoping to see?

“Can I ask a big favor of you, Mr. Augere?”

“Uh oh.”

Jason laughed. “Did you just say what I thought you did? Because I don’t think I’ve ever heard you use that expression before.”

“I find that since becoming acquainted with you, I have had to add it to my vocabulary.” His expression bore no hint of amusement.

Jason laughed again. “I see. It’s just that—you see those two guys over there?—the ones I mentioned already?”

Augere still took no glance in their direction.

“They have had no experiences here so far but are still hoping to. I could not tell them about my own personal encounter here, of course. But I wonder if maybe you could, somehow, summon that third floor apparition, or another one perhaps, and then just casually walk past them—me—us—so they uh, and me too, could just happen to see—”

Augere was already shaking his head and Jason did not hide his look of disappointment. “Why is it important to you?”

“It’s okay, really.” He sighed. “I shouldn’t have asked something like that.”

“Is it for the sake of—those strangers?”

“It’s all right. Never mind. It was wrong of me to suggest it.” Jason sipped his brandy. There was no regret in asking, only in the negative response.

Augere was silent for several moments.

“It does not quite work like that.”

“If you can’t do it—then it’s okay. Really.”

“It is that important.” More statement than question.

“I just wanted to see—more of that realm—and to have my experience validated somehow. To be able to share that experience—if I couldn’t tell anyone about the other, at least I could see—something—with someone else present—and maybe at the same time capture something, on film—”

Augere shook his head. “It is not some parlor trick.”

“It’s okay. I understand. I’m sorry.”

They sat in awkward silence for several minutes.

Augere lifted his glass and slowly downed the rest of his brandy. Then he stood abruptly. “Come to the third floor in thirty minutes. It will be very quick so you must be ready. I will do it this once. And I will not be photographed.”

“Understood.” Jason nodded enthusiastically. As soon Augere left, Jason approached the two men. They were so engrossed in their own conversation they hadn’t noticed him in the bar. They looked up quickly and seemed a little surprised to see him.

“Observed any interesting activity yet?” Jason asked them.

They shook their heads. “May I join you?” He took a seat. “I’ve been asking around and apparently the activity is more likely to occur”—he took a glance at one of the men’s wrist watches—“from around 11:30 to two or so in the morning, for some reason. I was just about to go and hang out on the third floor for a while after I stop at the room to get my cameras. Any interest in joining me?”

Both men shrugged and then agreed. “Why not? We don’t ever drink before doing an actual investigation of course,” one of them said, as he finished off his gin and tonic. “But there is no harm in having a causal look around.”

“You never know.” Jason shrugged. If he managed to pull this off it was going to be absolutely memorable. For all of us.

A short while later they met on the third floor. Jason had his cameras ready and the two men were setting up some of their more basic equipment. There was no sign of Augere. At precisely midnight, Augere came walking casually down the corridor and turned the corner where the three of them were waiting. He slowly walked toward them without so much as a glance at any of them or any acknowledgement of their presence. Jason was straining to catch any sign of an apparition near Augere. The other two were focused more on their equipment than on the man who was just then walking within several feet of them. Augere briskly picked up the pace toward a stairwell at the opposite end of the corridor, and Jason gasped loudly and pointed past Augere’s head. “Look!” he said in a loud whisper.

The two men all but pushed past Augere to catch photos of what Jason saw: the upper torso of a woman floating in the air several feet behind Augere. Her long dark hair was slowly streaming in all directions from her head, as if she was submerged underwater. Her face wore a haunted, tormented look and her wild, dark, desperate eyes were deep wells of sadness. There was no sign those sunken eyes possessed any vision; no indication of any intelligence present. Yet her arms were outstretched, in Augere’s direction, as if in supplication; a pleading from the depths of hopelessness. All of her features were as hideously clear as they were horrifying. She wore an old fashioned antebellum type dress of a shiny grey material on the visible portion of her body. She was transparent and the image of her torso was already quickly fading as the three took photos in rapid succession. In the space of only a minute or two she had clearly appeared and then all trace of her vanished, as had Augere by then, down the stairwell.

“Wow! I can hardly believe it! Did you see that? That was absolutely amazing! I think we got some great evidence, finally!” The three of them talked excitedly all at once about what they had witnessed. They each had captured a mostly grey vaporous shape. In at least one of each of their digital photos there appeared to be the dark haunted eyes they had seen. Nothing else they had captured was as sharp and clear as what they had actually seen with their own eyes, however. Even so the important thing was: they had all witnessed it. And they all concurred on the exact details of what they had witnessed. Jason had seen his second human looking apparition ever. He was breathing fast with a shaky restless exhilaration. The whole brief experience had been astounding. And all thanks to Augere.

The two men said they wanted to remain in the hallway the rest of the night, hoping to catch more evidence. Jason expressed how exhausted he was, which was true, and he headed off to bed, wishing them a good night and thanking them for joining him. They promised to keep in touch. Jason suspected the show was truly over. The master of ceremonies had concluded the performance when he had entered the stairwell.

Once in the privacy of his room, Jason gave full vent to his amazement and excitement about what they had all seen, and had, in part at least, captured. Then Jason could not help laughing out loud. What they would never know, the one thing they had totally missed out on was the well over 200 year-old vampire, the more present, truer and even more constant phenomenon, in Jason’s estimation, who had walked right past them. They had all but ignored him and nearly pushed him out of the way! He thoroughly enjoyed that part almost as much as all the rest of it and he laughed out loud again. “Unbelievable.” He kept laughing, shaking his head. He got ready for bed, crawling in under the inviting covers. Sleep would be especially welcome now. He yawned several times as he plumped his pillows. He would not have to chase sleep down tonight; almost immediately he was in a deep slumber.

He had slept ten minutes perhaps. Or maybe two hours. He had no way of knowing how long it had been, when he felt himself being pulled reluctantly toward wakefulness. He turned over on his other side, and snuggled back into the covers, having turned to face the wall opposite the bed, toward the darkest part of the room. He drifted again toward sleep, only to be brought back to a waking state. He was so tired he felt an almost painful need for rest. He closed his eyes tightly and began rhythmically breathing until sleep quickly overtook him again. But the restlessness returned and woke him. He pulled the blanket up to his neck. The bed was so comfortable, so inviting; the room pleasantly cool, the pillows as soft and comfortable as he could possibly want; everything just the way he liked it; everything was in place and conducive to lulling him into deep sleep. If only he could achieve that.

He drifted off but once again he awoke from certain sleep. He opened one eye, seeing only the wall opposite in the darkened room. What keeps waking me up? He yawned broadly, then turned and lay on his back, with his eyes closed. His eyes were so heavy from lack of sleep he could barely keep them open.

But it was no use. He restlessly raised himself up on one elbow, and then rubbed his eyes. When he yawned and looked toward the other side of the room, he was startled fully awake by the sight of Augere sitting in a chair not far from his bed.

Jason sat fully upright then, glancing wildly around the room, looking for—he didn’t know what. His eyes rested again on Augere, or what he could see of him in the dim light. Augere sat in a casual, languid pose; his legs were crossed, and as far as Jason could tell, he was just sitting there watching him.

“Mr. Augere! What is it? What’s going on?” Jason asked, his sentence ending in a yawn he had no chance of stifling. He sleepily lowered himself again to rest on one elbow.

He could not make out Augere’s features in the dark. He thought he saw brief movement. Augere shrugging his shoulders possibly.

“I thought perhaps we could have conversation.”

Jason raised himself to a sitting position again. He focused on Augere’s mostly hidden features for several moments. Talk? Augere is seeking me out? Wanting to talk?

Now he was fully alert. This was great! This was fantastic. His immediate thoughts gathered in recollection of the words Terrance had recently spoken to him: “He will come around; he will want to talk to you; don’t worry about that.”

Of course, they had been talking. But mostly Jason asked the questions and initiated the conversations. But this was exactly what he had been wanting and hoping for, and for such a long time. To have access to him so they could just talk, about—anything, everything. For Augere to want to seek him out for company was exciting and so totally welcomed! It was immensely satisfying. It was absolutely great! He glanced at the bedside clock. It was 2:00 a.m.. Does it have to be right now? Does it have to be right this minute?

“Okay. Well,” Jason yawned again, “what did you want to talk about?”

Augere might have shrugged again.

“Did you want to tell me some things about yourself, or—”

“I do not wish to talk about myself.”

“Oh…okay.” Jason strained to discern Augere’s features in the darkness. Not that seeing his expression could help him to determine Augere’s mood. It rarely had before.

“Well, why don’t you start with whatever is on your mind then.”

Silence was now in collusion with darkness.

“Do you want me to talk about myself?”

“Is that your desire?”

“No,” Jason admitted. He paused, thinking. “Do you want to talk about New Orleans?”

“What about it,” Augere said tonelessly.

“Anything. Whatever you want to say. Like why you chose to come and live here and what you—”

“Are you so certain it was a choice?”

Jason detected a sharpness to the words, an edge to his voice. This could go downhill very quickly. Jason was too tired; he needed to avoid tension and stress right now. Mostly he just wanted to sleep. But he also did not want to let this golden opportunity pass by with no advantage taken.

“Really—I’m open to whatever you want to talk about. Only, please—I just want to know, finally—what happened? What caused—this change—you weren’t always—right? Where and when and how did this happen to you—what were the exact circumstances? I’ve wanted to ask you…I just want to understand…and there never seems to be a good time to approach you about it…” The words came out in a rush. He hadn’t given any real thought about saying any of this until a moment before he said it. But it was out now.

Augere sat, silent in the darkness. Jason could just make out his pale cheek in profile now; not his eyes, not his facial expression. Jason waited, nervous.

“Not here.” Words were finally whispered out of the darkness. “Get dressed. Meet me in the lobby.” Augere was gone after the last word was spoken.

Jason sighed. He really, really just wanted to go back to sleep. But he could not. Not now. He dutifully got up and got dressed and then went to the lobby. A moment after he met Augere’s eyes he was following him out of the hotel into the night.

Jason walked at his side for two blocks in silence. Augere attempted to hail a taxi. We’re going to need a taxi? Now what? Where are we going at 2:30 in the morning? A cab pulled up and they climbed in.

Augere gave the driver a slip of paper, presumably with an address on it. The driver shook his head. “You want to go here? At this hour?”

This was Jason’s first clue that maybe this was not such a good idea, especially right now. But his suspicion was already too late.

The cab took them quite a ways; they were out of the city, maybe ten miles or so, at least, in an unfamiliar area. They had passed residential homes in well cared for neighborhoods and pleasant surroundings. But now they were in a rundown, isolated, and somewhat dangerous looking location. Jason locked the car door.

Finally the cab driver pulled over near a vacant lot. Boarded up buildings and the dimly lit, trash strewn streets were deserted.

“This is as far as I can take you,” the driver said. “You got to walk the rest of the way.”

“Walk?” Jason said aloud, feeling a rising panic. “We’re not getting out here?”

Augere reached over the front seat and paid the driver, and they exited the cab, which quickly sped off.

Oh no, Jason thought. This cannot be good.

Augere seemed confident of the direction and walked briskly toward his chosen destination. Jason stayed close behind, taking wary glances in all directions. Hopefully, he thought, there won’t be any of those portals here. But at least he was with a supernatural being who could not be harmed. Hopefully that means I’ll be safe too. No one in their right mind would be out walking in an area as isolated and run down as this, not at this hour. Only someone deranged, suicidal maybe, or hopelessly lost. Or with an enigmatic unpredictable vampire. He sighed.

Jason grew increasingly more nervous as they continued to walk, for six more blocks at least. He thought he could smell the river now…but could see no signs of the river. They arrived at another vacant lot, looking much like others they had passed. Two dilapidated buildings stood at a distance and the foreground showed remnants of what might have been a park once: two old wrought iron benches sat short distances apart near a scraggly patch of lawn; a path overgrown with weeds. One still working streetlamp stood close by, which cast a cheerless dim glow; some rusted equipment that might once have been part of a playground stood apart in isolation. Mostly there were open spaces for several blocks in every direction. Trees grew in the distance, around the perimeter. And little else. Why on earth are we in this forlorn, desolate place?

Augere stood quite still, gazing in the area of the trees. Several minutes passed. Jason grew restless. A cold breeze blew over them, and Jason shuffled from one foot to the other, nervously watching. Several more minutes passed.

Augere began to speak very softly in French, never taking his eyes from the trees in the distance. It was as if he were speaking to himself; as if he had forgotten Jason was even there.

“Il y avait un petit maison, seulement trois chambers, ici… J’y ai sejourne seul, après le deces de l’autres…ma famille. J’ai ete loin de la ville. Il n’y avait personne, sauf moi. J’ai ete sejourner jusqu’a ce que les affaires pourraient etre conclus…”

The words were spoken in hushed tones and slowly enough for Jason to translate what he heard, though he was weary and his translation skills at 3:00 in the morning were not as sharp as they could be. He understood most of the words, if not the significance. There had been a small house…he stayed after the death…he was alone…far from the town…What was going on?

He moved so he was now in Augere’s line of vision. “Please—my French is not as good as yours.” He gave him a weak smile. Augere did not look at nor acknowledge him for several minutes.

When Augere finally looked at him, or through him, it seemed to Jason, he seemed focused at some distant point. He had a vacant look in his eyes now, one that scared Jason a little. But then he began to speak softly in English.

“When I arrived here, my English was not good. My father had requested that I come here to be of assistance to my aunt, his sister, and her daughter, my cousin. She was a young widow, who had recently remarried to a merchant from Paris with a business in New Orleans. My aunt was not over thirty-five and my cousin was but fourteen.

“They had traveled by ship from France to join her new husband. Soon after they had arrived, we learned in a letter received from her weeks later that her husband had fallen seriously ill.”

Augere continued with his narrative, hesitantly relating the details, pausing for several moments now and then.

“New Orleans was a rough place then, and life was cheaply held. Sickness spread throughout the city. The new husband had secured a cabin, outside of the city, so they would all be safe away from town, until the illness had passed over. My father was concerned for the women’s safety, with their male protector compromised by illness. He wished me to go and be of assistance to them, and to bring them back to France, if necessary.”

The words—he had never heard Augere say so much at once—fascinated Jason; he was finally hearing details about Augere’s personal life directly from the man himself.

“I sailed from Bordeaux on the Esperance in February of 1800.” Augere’s gaze remained fixed on some point in the distance—and the past.

“The voyage took five weeks in those times, and by the time I arrived, her husband had since died, leaving her a widow again. He had died before he could get them to the supposed safety of the cabin. And by then, my young cousin was ill also.

“Within three weeks of my arrival, both of the women had died. I sent word to my father. I had to make the arrangements for two more funerals. They were all to be placed in crypts above ground as was the custom here.

“I needed to stay to see to the details and to make claim to the assets left to my aunt by her husband. These had been signed over to me when she had become ill. The deaths were very tragic and it was difficult for me to have to focus on business affairs. I wished only to return to France, and be gone from the misery of this place. Already the heat was oppressive. I had moved into the small isolated cabin intended as safe refuge for the small family, and I was there alone. It became necessary to delay booking the journey home until June, when all of the business affairs were expected to be concluded.”

He paused then and began pacing, looking off toward the trees. Jason had become absorbed in the story and for a few moments he actually forgot his surroundings. Then a sudden cold breeze once again returned him to the here and now. But Augere was still in some other time and place. Why did he bring me here, in the middle of the night? I don’t understand…why did he come here to tell me his story…?

Jason wanted him to continue; he needed to hear the rest. He didn’t know how much longer they would be out here, but the sooner they could leave, the better. He glanced around warily. From which direction had they come?

And how would they even get back from here—there had been no sign of anyone else around, much less any taxis. The thought of walking, for blocks and blocks in the middle of the night did not appeal—

“One night, late, something outside the cabin was distressing my horse.”

It appeared to Jason now that Augere was not simply remembering these events, but reliving them. He seemed less present now, scarcely in a physical sense, and mentally, even less so.

“I went outside with a weapon in hand to investigate the cause. The horse was quite frightened and I had to secure the animal further to keep it from running off.

“It was a mild spring evening in late May. Finally there had been some slight relief from the heat; a heavy rain had left the air cooler and fragrant. I had come out earlier to bathe and shave, to refresh myself after the excessive heat of several days.…Now I stood outside again for a long time, still seeing no cause for concern for the frightened animal. Yet its nostrils flared and there was a wild look in its eyes. I stayed to enjoy the fresh air, lingering longer than I might have.

“Finally, after many minutes, I could see in the moonlight a small dark shape…” Augere squinted, as if seeing the same thing again at a distance just now. “Small and dark, no more than a dense shadow at a distance crouched low to the ground. I stood and observed it for several minutes, and I came to realize it was observing me as well. This intrigued me. I felt its gaze, one that seemed intelligent, upon me.

“I moved closer to take a better view and perhaps to frighten it off, or if it posed danger, to kill it if necessary. As I approached, I could see a white luminous glow where the creature’s face should be. There was a head and shoulders in the shape of a child or person of small stature but mostly it was a black amorphous shape. As I continued to approach, the form rose slowly until it was fully the height of a tall man, and then rose further still, to an even more imposing height. No face nor features were discernible…”

Here Augere paused, staring vacantly off in the distance. Jason had no doubt Augere was now mentally reliving the same event as clearly as he had originally experienced it.

“I stared at it in wonder. I still could see no face nor features, nor could I stare directly where those would be, as the white glow in place of these was too intense. The very air seemed charged to me, as if the recent thunderstorm and the flare of lightning were still present in the air around me.

“I could sense it possessed intelligence. It did not appear to be animal nor human. Then I began to sense something menacing from it, as if it meant harm. I suddenly became fearful of it. I raised my weapon and stood firm, ready if it made any move to attack. I was determined to stand guard until it was gone or destroyed.

“After several minutes it appeared to shrink back from me and to decrease in stature until once more the whole of it was closer to the ground. I lowered my weapon then.

“In an instant it sprang at me, covering the distance between us incredibly fast. It leaped upon me, and though I could not feel the weight of it, as if it had no substance, it was able to knock me to the ground. I did not observe any limbs on this being, yet it held me fast; I was not able to remove it from me, nor regain my stance.

“It peered into my face and regarded me with a curious intensity, though how I could know this without seeing any features I cannot say. And I did not sense any malevolence in those moments just then; rather there seemed to be a deep sadness present, a despair that emanated from it. It was as though I could feel its strong emotions: regret and grief and a deep sorrow. This lasted for several moments.

“But in the next instant the being attacked me viciously, tearing into my throat, with what I could not say since I saw nothing that could cause such searing pain. With a feeling of horror I felt my blood rush from me and I knew immediately I had suffered a grievous wound. And then suddenly the being was gone from sight. I saw, and then felt, the full absence of it. The air around me had felt charged with energy, and then all was as before, calm and still again. And I was alone.

“I was able to slowly stagger to my feet, my hand at my throat to try to assess the damage. It was impossible to staunch the flow of blood. As I made my way to the cabin, I tore off my shirt with difficulty and held it at the wound. I already felt near to fainting; I had no way to summon help. I would not be able to saddle the horse much less ride; I knew my life was over. I lay on my bed waiting to die…”

Jason imagined the scene vividly. He had no clue as to what had attacked Augere. He had never heard of any such being nor come across any descriptions of anything like it.

He listened, fascinated, but had no time to wonder.

“But I did not die.”

An ineffable sadness suffused those words, as if it pained Augere greatly even to say them. He began speaking in what sounded like French then, but so softly Jason had no hope of hearing or understanding what was said. The tone was plaintive, almost pleading. Even without understanding what was being said it was very emotionally painful to hear it.

Augere began speaking English again, softly and slowly and with a great weariness as though it took great effort for him to do so.

“I doubt I slept but I must have lost consciousness. The next thing I was aware of was pain and stiffness at my neck and a great thirst. The smell and stickiness of my own blood lay everywhere. I was very weak and I was surprised to be alive still. Perhaps the wound had not been as severe as I had thought. Taking much difficulty I sat up and reached for a shaving mirror at hand. There was evidence of a great deal of blood lost. I should not have been alive. I managed to stand weakly and brought a small cup of water and my torn shirt to the task of washing the blood away to assess the wound. The horror at actually seeing it nearly caused me to faint. I would not survive; I felt certain now. The wound was horrific—large and ragged; I had lost too much blood, enough to certainly kill me. Surely infection would have taken me if the shock of blood loss did not.

“I took a small sip of the water, now tinged with my own blood as I recall, and lay back upon my bed. I wept to think I would die alone in this place, so far from home and all who knew me.”

Tears began to well in Jason’s eyes. None of the story was anything like he had expected. Then again, he had not known what to expect. It was horrifying and heartbreaking.

“I lay there weak, exhausted and helpless, and in despair, knowing my death was at hand.

“I must have slept through an entire day. I could not reckon time. But I was still alive. When I was able to summon enough strength to sit up and examine the wound again, it appeared smaller.

“Over the next few days, I slept, awoke briefly to take water, and slept again. My strength returned slowly; the wound healed more quickly and completely than it should have, with no fever as I recall and no sign of infection.

“By the fourth day, I was able to walk about and tend to my neglected and starving horse, which now acted frightened again. It appeared I had recovered and had returned just as I was before.

“I was forever changed by then, though I did not yet know it.”

Augere fell silent again. The same faraway look remained in his eyes, fixed on a point in the past. Jason followed his gaze. And then suddenly he knew: this could be the place where it had all actually happened! This exact location! He surveyed the area with keener interest now. His mind recreated the small cabin, the frightened horse; the strange unearthly creature which Augere bravely had been no match for. It had all taken place right here…more than 200 years ago. Incredible.

Augere moved away from him now, turning his back on the direction that had steadily held his interest. He walked to the bench nearby and wearily sat down.

We need to get out of here, Jason thought, looking around, awareness prickling the hairs on the back of his neck. It did not seem at all a safe area to be, and it clearly held painful memories for Augere. He did not seem to be himself.

Jason walked over to him. “Mr. Augere? I think we really should go now.”

Augere made no sign he had heard him. He was speaking softly, in French now, and it seemed to Jason he was repeating phrases over and over, almost as if reciting something to himself.

In the distance, but within a few blocks of them, a car drove by and slowed as it approached them. Raucous music blared from the car radio; there was the sound of drunken laughter, and then the car sped off. It made Jason very nervous, in the company of vampire or not.

“Please—can we leave now, Mr. Augere? I think it would be best if we go.” Jason anxiously glanced around. With Augere so distracted, Jason worried he might not be able to get them back safely. Augere didn’t seem to be attentive to their present surroundings exactly, and Jason began to feel worried and vulnerable, for both of them.

He could get no response, no acknowledgement from Augere. “It is not a good to idea to stay here any longer. It would be best for you—both of us—if we just leave here now.” His tone was insistent but it had no impact. Augere was silent now, staring down at the ground though not appearing to see it. He seemed oblivious to the present, and Jason did not know how to bring him back. He needed Augere’s help to get them out of there. He had no idea which way to turn, which direction to go. They couldn’t stay here all night.

In the distance, loud music thumped from the car that had passed before; it worried Jason that the car would return and he suspected its occupants would not be anyone who would offer help to them.

They needed to go—now. They had to start walking. It was not safe to remain here in the open, inviting trouble. It seemed highly unlikely they would find a taxi. He had no idea how far they would actually have to walk to get to a safely populated area. He was growing more nervous by the moment. Why can’t I just be back safe in my bed? he whined silently. Why am I not asleep right now? How did I let myself get into this situation?

“Please, Mr. Augere—this is not good. We have to go right now—I need your help—we can’t stay here any longer… please…”

Augere was mute, his stare vacant.

Jason heard another car, or maybe the same one—the jarring music was similar—and this time it came closer, only a block and a half away. Someone yelled something at them, and then loud laughter erupted from the car. It sounded like several different voices. Jason could not make out the words, but the tone had been jeering, taunting. His mouth was dry and his limbs were shaky. He didn’t know if he could run if he had to—and what about Augere? Could he just leave him if he had to?

Jason was growing desperate. He bent close to Augere’s ear but within his line of vision, though Augere’s gaze was still directed toward the ground. “Mr. Augere?” Then he repeated it again, louder. He attempted to take hold of Augere by the shoulder to try to get him to a standing position, thinking maybe the physical gesture would bring him out of it. The troubling car was still parked at the same place; Jason could hear the motor running and the loud radio. Augere had to have heard it too, but gave no sign of it. The occupants of the car were watching them; making taunting and derogatory remarks with foul language and what sounded like more drunken chatter.

He had never been quite this physically close to Augere before and the intimacy of that sudden proximity, even under the level of stress he was presently feeling, caught and captivated him. It was a strange moment: the pale, translucent skin; coming into contact with the softness of Augere’s hair as his hand rested on Augere’s shoulder. He was close enough to Augere’s face as he spoke directly into his ear to notice the faint woodsy green scent of him; something like sandalwood perhaps, but with something other imposed over that … Jason’s heightened, fear-fueled senses took in these details even as he acknowledged how incongruous and absurd it was to do so in that moment, and even as he worried about being overcome by Augere’s energy—this was definitely no time to be dropped to the ground. They were in a pretty dangerous situation now, or he was, definitely, more so than Augere . He made a stronger effort to try to raise Augere by trying to lift under one arm and taking hold of his opposite shoulder: but he could not budge him. Augere was solidly immovable. I would have better luck trying to lift this bench with him on it, Jason thought, shaking his head. He was becoming even more desperate.

He was starting to feel queasy and could not tell if that was Augere’s energy working against him or their situation, the intense fear generated by the car with strangers still keeping them in view. They could be robbed, maybe killed—well, not Augere certainly but himself, unless he had Augere’s help. That he could die here tonight was a real possibility. I need the full use of all of my faculties if I am to save myself and get us out of this. It was up to him now.

He leaned in close to Augere’s face again, looking directly into eyes that were not seeing him. “Mr. Augere!” he said sharply and loudly. No response.

“Please…Laurent…please…you have to hear me…you have to listen…please, Laurent, I don’t know what to do…there is nothing for you here…nothing to be done…Laurent, look at me, please…” Jason pleaded softly in desperation.

Slowly Augere’s focus changed slightly; and then he was looking into Jason’s eyes. His gaze slowly acquired an awareness of Jason’s presence. Then he looked around him, with a somewhat perplexed expression.

“Laurent?” Jason said eagerly, encouraged by the minimal but positive response. “I’m afraid for us to stay here any longer. Laurent, please, I need your help to get us away from here!”

Augere blinked.

“Laurent…?” Jason was afraid of losing him again to those dark memories.

“You…have never spoken my name before…never once…until now…” His voice was barely audible.

Jason laughed, a short nervous response, filled with joy. “Yes! Yes, I know! I don’t know why I’m always so formal with you…” he sighed, then laughed a little again, wanting suddenly to hug him with relief. “Can we discuss it later? We have got to get out of here.”

Augere looked around him again. He still seemed vague, distant, not fully grasping his surroundings, but then he stood fluidly when Jason tugged at his shoulder. He let Jason lead him in what was, Jason hoped, the right direction.

Jason was aware of the attention of the still parked car’s occupants, as he had one arm around Augere’s shoulder walking them slowly in the opposite direction. Loud whistles, cat calls and raucous laughter followed them, and the car horn beeped at them over the jarring music.

They were far from safety, but Jason’s attention now was focused on the strange experience of walking with his arm around Augere. It was an eerie, unexpected sensation, yet one he had felt before: as if he had hold of an empty jacket. Moments ago, Jason could not budge him for the heavy solid weight of him, and now he seemed as light as if lacking in any substance at all, as weightless as a feather. And if Jason let go of him, even for a moment, Augere simply stopped walking. Jason realized the picture they made only invited negative attention and risk to them. But it could not be helped.

Jason took out his cell phone as he walked. There had been spotty response where they had stood, and it was scarcely better now, fading in and out. He wanted to call Genier to see if someone could come and get them. But where in the world were they? How could he explain? Would they know this place, if Jason described the circumstances? He had thought of calling 911 emergency—they might be able to locate the two of them. But that could invite inquiry as to what they were doing there in the middle of the night, and just what was wrong with his companion? No. They were totally on their own. And now there was no phone signal at all.

Jason walked, praying it was the right direction. It was practically a rural area, with no landmarks, no signs. They made their way slowly for several blocks and still there were no clear street signs to tell him where they were. Jason kept them going, Augere putting up no resistance and mutely walking on his own now, without Jason’s guidance.

They had to have gone the equivalent of ten blocks or more, and Jason despaired they were going the wrong way. Finally, lights appeared at a distance, too many to be just the occasional streetlight they had seen.

As they got closer, Jason saw a convenience store, and it was open. Never had he been so glad so see such a sight.

They were still two blocks away when Jason saw a man exit the store with a bag and move toward a car—and he couldn’t believe his eyes—it was a taxi! The man was moving toward the driver’s side.

Jason broke into a run. “Hey! Wait, please!” he yelled as loud as he could.

The man paused and looked up, startled. Unbelievably, it was the same driver who had brought them. He gave them a wary look, then a look of disbelief as he recognized them and then waved them off, as he began to open the car door just as Jason reached him.

“No! Please, wait! Can you take us back now?” Jason had already been exhausted prior to this and was now badly shaken from the ordeal. He was sure he looked a sight. But this stranger seemed his only hope.

“Can’t. I’m off duty.” The man shook his head without looking at them as he opened the taxi door.

“Please—we are stranded out here. Can’t you take us back—or at least call someone to come for us? Maybe just drop us off near other cabs. I will make sure it is worth—”

“Is he all right?” the man asked with a surly expression as he paused then and looked them both over. Augere seemed to be himself, at least physically for the most part, but stood silent with a somewhat vacant stare. “I’m not messing with no drug dealers and no users, nope, not tonight.”

“No, it’s nothing like that, I swear,” Jason said with weary sincerity. Is this night ever going to end?

The man seemed to be looking them both over with a critical eye.

“Get in,” the cab driver said abruptly and grudgingly.

Silence filled the cab except for Christmas music playing softly on the radio, as they rode along. Jason was shocked when the man took them all the way back to their hotel, the sight of which brought immeasurable, nearly tearful, relief to him. It seemed nothing short of a miracle.

They got out of the cab and Jason removed a couple of large bills from his wallet. The cab driver refused to accept the fare and large tip. The meter was off. “Happy New Year,” he said to them with a cheerless expression. Jason insisted he accept a generous tip, and the man did so reluctantly, and then Jason extended well wishes to him—“Bernard, is it?” he had read on the sign in the cab—and thanked him again profusely. Several minutes later Jason watched as Augere entered his own room, and then Jason entered his. It was nearly 6 a.m.. He fell onto his bed still clothed and was asleep within minutes.

Jason slept past noon, and still had not nearly enough sleep. A brunch was being served today, he recalled, as he lay in bed, awake now. Had they missed it?

He was concerned about Augere and that forced him to get up. He showered, hastily got dressed and went to find him. A knock on his door produced no response. Was he asleep? He should have been. He began to wonder about the vampire’s sleep habits…

Jason found him sitting outside at one of the small wrought iron tables in the courtyard, smartly dressed and looking as well, as refreshed and rested as if nothing could possibly have disturbed him. And James Genier was with him.

“…after we already had this discussion, and you told me you would not do something like this again.”

Jason caught the tense words spoken by James as he approached them. Is this about last night?

“…and do you know we had to sneak workmen into your hotel room—over Christmas mind you—do you have any idea how much that cost? Not to mention the cost of the actual repairs…”

No. It was a different situation entirely. Augere seemed to be taking the scolding in silence while wearing a less than contrite expression.

“So what do you have to say for yourself?” James concluded.

Augere shrugged one shoulder and acquired an innocent expression as he replied, “Vampire.”

“Hmmm.” James frowned deeply.

James looked up and his dour expression turned into a friendly smile as he greeted Jason. Augere gave him a nod, which Jason returned.

“Sorry. I’m running late.”

“There’s really no set time. It’s brunch in New Orleans.” James laughed, his good humor returned. “There will always be good food somewhere.”

A car took them to yet another well-known restaurant in the French Quarter. Jason loved getting to try all of these different places. But he wondered why it was always public places, never anyone’s home. And never at their office. There seemed something a little strange about that. Not that he was complaining. They could meet at a different place to eat every day and not run out of great restaurants or fabulous food to enjoy.

Jason stole a rare private moment with James as they waited in the buffet line, while Allen sat at their table with Augere.

“Did he tell you anything? About last night?” Jason asked him.

James gave him a concerned look. “Only in the vaguest terms. What did happen?”

Jason had to speak softly, careful whose ears might be listening. He wasn’t sure how much to say. Of course, the Geniers had to know the whole story already. He managed to express that though it was a frightening experience, he had finally learned what he had wanted to know about Augere’s history. In fact he was sure he had been taken to the exact place where the actual events had occurred so long ago. It was obvious to him Augere had not been himself last night, and as fascinating as the story was, Augere’s actions had caused him a great deal of concern for his own personal safety. He still felt surprised they had gotten back without serious incident. As bad as it had been though, he was still glad to learn what had happened to Augere, finally.

James nodded. “Every now and then, though not in a long while, he has done this. I’m sorry it was such a tense and frightening situation; from what I do recall of it that is definitely not in a good area. He would have been able to keep you from any harm, regardless. But it would have been okay to call me too.”

Jason explained he didn’t know what their exact location was to provide details to anyone, even if there had been a phone signal. And he had not had any idea where they were going beforehand.

“I just had to focus on getting us away from there.” James looked appropriately concerned as he nodded.

“Did anything—unusual happen? Beforehand? How did it happen that the two of you went there?”

“Well, he wanted to talk. And I asked him about the circumstances…about how all of this had come about. How and when he had changed.”

“That was it? He just decided then?” James seemed surprised. “Can you think of something, anything that might have distressed him, before then…?”

Jason paused to consider this as he heaped jambalaya onto a plate. “Nothing really…” He paused. “Except…well there was a fortune teller we stopped at—she was acting kind of…strange…almost trancelike at one point; it almost seemed kind of genuine—and then she just wanted us to go away—”

James looked alarmed. “Where was this, exactly? Do you remember any details, what she looked like?”

It was Jason’s turn to be concerned. He provided as much detail as he could. James frowned. “That might have been what set him off.” He shook his head. “He has strong reactions to situations like that sometimes. It is best for him if he avoids contacts like those.” James and Jason took their plates to the table and then James asked to speak to Allen in private. The two brothers left the dining area briefly.

A waiter brought wine to their table and served them.

A young girl, in her twenties, Jason guessed, attired all in black and wearing gothic-inspired jewelry, stopped at their table and smiled and flirted briefly with Augere, who seemed very comfortable with her. She handed Jason a fork and a plate that held a huge piece of cake. The white frosting and moist looking fruit texture already told him he was going to enjoy this.

“It’s Hummingbird Cake,” she explained, “you have to try it.” Jason thanked her and then savored a bite of the heavenly cake as he took note of her features while Augere gave her a small smile and chatted with her. She vaguely reminded him of his sister, with her petite frame and dark hair in a style similar to Carrie’s. She gave Jason a shy smile as she left, leaving him wondering who she was.

James returned. Jason had more that he could say to James about last night’s incident, but it seemed it would have to wait until he could speak to him privately again.

“You’re looking rather tired, Jason; I know you had a long night.” James took a long glance at Augere, as the four of them stood outside the restaurant getting ready to part at the end of their delicious brunch. “I hope we haven’t made you so haggard with all of our partying.”

“Not at all.” Jason laughed and shook his head. “I have really enjoyed spending the holiday with all of you. I am really so glad to have had this experience. All of your family have been so kind and thoughtful to me.”

James gave him a warm smile and then embraced him. “You are part of our extended family now.” Allen nodded with a smile and then embraced him also.

The Geniers had arranged tickets to a theatre performance that evening; Jason and Augere planned to attend. A party at a bar on Bourbon Street was being held that afternoon. Jason and Augere attended and Jason was surprised to see both James and Allen on the stage playing their own instruments as they sat in with the members of a local Cajun band. It was a fun afternoon, very laid back and casual, and Jason especially enjoyed the music. The Geniers managed to endlessly surprise him.

They kept their own quiet company the rest of that afternoon, spending time walking in the French Quarter.

The play that evening—Wicked—was wonderfully good and steak dinners followed at a restaurant afterward. Augere remained apart from the rest of them, but still close by. No mention was made by anyone of the events of the night before. Jason barely had time to sort out his thoughts and feelings about all of the past few days’ events.

That night a still exhausted Jason got his first full night’s sleep in several days. A car came to take them to the airport late the following morning and James rode with them, lingering in the departure area as they said their goodbyes.

Augere stood facing James and smoothed the lapel of his jacket while looking into his eyes. “View my latest artwork…” He rested his hand for several moments on James’ chest and then looked at Jason with that steady gaze and his usual inscrutable expression.

“All of the terrible things done…show up here,” he said, as he returned his gaze to James’ face, his hand still resting on James’ chest. “They appear on this canvas and alter it, while I remain as always, unchanged. Mea culpa.”

Jason thought he was making a joke, but the tone of Augere’s voice was deeply sad and his expression too serious.

“Laurent—stop,” James said gently. Then he hugged him tightly and was warmly embraced in return. “I still wish you could stay longer and—”

“You will see me soon enough,” Augere interrupted him.

James gave Jason a lengthy embrace and then it was time for them to go. They boarded their plane for the return to Boston.

END OF BOOK ONE

AUGERE’S STORY CONTINUES IN SEVERAL MORE VOLUMES