The Alexandru Chronicles: The Beginning (21 page)

As Cirpian stood there in the middle of Adrian's fog, he could sense the none too evident fear that Adrian was trying very hard to cover up.

“Cirpian..., long time no see, brother.”

“
I'm not your brother, Adrian...” shaking his head, he said, “I'm not even your family anymore.”

“
So, I guess that saying, 'blood is thicker than water'; is just that.”

“
What do you want, Adrian?”

“
Nothing...” when he noted Cirpian's stoically, dubious, expression, he said, “I'm just here to warn you.”

“
Warn me...?”

“
The council is not happy with you...”

Chuckling, Cirpian responded, uninterestedly, by saying, “
What's new?”

“
They've decided to wage a war against you...and I was thinking...that you and I could just...” Adrian smiled. “bury the hatchet.”

As Adrian talked, Cirpian's enhance senses were continuing to acquaint themselves to more of his surroundings—he barely was paying attention to what his cousin was yammering on about. From what his sense of smell and hearing could gather, there were three vampires, waiting just on the outskirts of his property.

As he fingered the sword at his hip, preparing himself for whatever these vampires and his cousin had in store for him, he barely caught the last of what Adrian said.

“
Bury the hatchet...” this was more a statement than a question. “Now, why would I want to do that with you?”

Smiling, Adrian said, “You need family at your back, rather than an enemy.”

“There's only one problem with that statement..., Adrian.”

“
And what's that?”

“
You are my enemy...So, why would I want to have you at my back?”

It was his cousin's startled silence, that ultimately had Cirpian swiveling around to depart.

As Cirpian sauntered away, back toward his house and the slumberous woman waiting there for him, he heard Adrian shout, “Don't turn down my offer, Cirpian...! Cirpian...!” he growled, “You and your pretty detective are going to need me...! Cirpian, do you hear me...you need me...!”

As Adrian stood there, angrily seething, he continued to watch Cirpian's departing back. And even long after his cousin was gone, he stood there trying to rein in his anger; he couldn't afford to let his men see how riled up he was.  Finally, after kicking a rock loose from it's spot, he turned to leave.

He didn't want to admit it to himself, but he actually needed Cirpian more than Cirpian needed him.

Cirpian wasn't the only one, who had problems with the council; Adrian was also being targeted.

He had been reckless over the years, and, because of that, the vampire council had it out for him. They were going against their own golden rule:
vampires are not allowed to kill their own masters.
Many of his creations had already been contracted out, by the council, to kill him. And, of course, the majority of these creations had tried...and
failed
.

It was because of the council setting his own creations and other vampires lose on him, that he was desperate for Cirpian's help. He couldn't continue fighting off his and the others, that had come after him.

As it was, he now only had a few trusted supporters and their numbers were dwindling down. Oddly enough, one of the few, that he trusted, beyond any other of his supporters, was his cousin.

Granted it was true that both Cirpian and himself were enemies. Yet, they were still family and family always helped each other.

No matter how much his cousin despised him, Adrian knew that Cirpian would, eventually, admit to needing him.

It would be just a matter of time, before Cirpian figured that out. And, when he did, Adrian would be all too ready to help his cousin wage war against the vampire council.

XXX

Genevieve awoke to that familiar lonely, abandoned, sensation. When she rolled over to feel for Cirpian, she was surprised and, yet, not surprised to find his side of the bed ice cold.

After wrapping herself in the sheets, she made her way over to the far left window, aiming to the side of the house, where hers and Cirpian's vehicles were parked. 

As she stood there, just peering out into the darkness, she noticed how this unnatural, glowing, fog seemed to stretch and seep out of the forest—cloaking everything in its wake.

It was a strange sensation, what this fog invoked in her. She wasn't terrified. Instead she was overwhelmed by the strength and dominance emanating from it.

Unlike the fog from the apartment complex, she felt safe with this fog—as if it was this reassuring caress.

It wasn't just that, though, there was something sensually arousing about this fog. It felt like sex, yet more tender and enjoyable.

As she stood there for a few minutes more, just peering out at the ominous black night, Genevieve was surprised by how different everything looked; in the day time, when the sun was out, one could make out that a tree was a tree. Yet, at night, without or very few stars, a tree looked very different; it had that haunting resemblance of a monster, with long, branchy, arms and sharp claws coming forth from some of those arms.

It was her sudden breathing, that had Genevieve instantly flinching at the sight of her breath's vapors upon the window pane. She hadn't realized that she had been holding her breath; that is, until she released it. 

Once the surprised had worn off, though, Genevieve hastily made a happy face in the vapors; and then turned away from the window – with the intention of going back to bed.

She had just taken that step in that direction, when her peripheral vision caught a figure emerging from the forest.

Quickly turning back to the window, Genevieve instantly noticed how the happy face had already faded away. As she peered through the window, outside at that unusually, strange fog, her breath, again, fogged up the window.

She really didn't know how long she stood there, just peering outside, trying to make out that figure; wondering, to herself, if it was human, animal, or just a shadow brought on by the night. And due to the window constantly fogging up from her breathing, and how darkly, murky, the outside surroundings were, it took awhile for her eyes to penetrate through the dense murkiness.

Yet,  once it had, she was able to make out this human shape figure emerging from it.

It didn't take a genius for her to realize who it was. Just the sensually smooth way he walked and his firm posture, was enough to give him away.

While her intentions had been to go back to bed, Genevieve, at that moment, couldn't move her feet or even pull her gaze away from the window—she was transfixed by the man outside. 

As she stood there watching him, she noticed how he halted just a few inches away from her car. It was then that he looked up at the house—directly at her. For that brief moment, she thought he was staring right at her. Yet, she knew that couldn't be possible.

Nevertheless, she felt unnerved by his intense grayish blue gaze.

Unable to pull herself away from those eyes, she found herself conflictingly wanting, and, yet, not wanting, to be close to the alluring man that stood outside her window.

It was abrupt, yet surprising, when he did finally advert his penetrating gaze away from her and over to her car. For that brief moment, he just stood there; unable to see where her car was at, yet his gaze was trained on it.

When he finally moved over to it, he planted his hand squarely on the hood.

As Genevieve continued to observe him, she noticed how he stood there for what seemed like eternity – touching her car's hood and staring contemplatively at nothing.

It was the way his hand briefly lingered on her car's hood, that instantly had her thoughts going back to the possibility that he was a nut case.

A split personality nut case.

Didn't that beat all.

She couldn't attract a man to save her life. She was either being set up with horribly, undesirable, idiots. Or, if she did get one on her own, she picked one that was off his rocker.

What was it with Tucson and the jerks that seemed to flock here? Was it possible that other states were coming up with new laws that said something of the effect:
Our women want to mate with desirable men; not scumbages. So please go to Tucson, because the women over there are not overly picky. 
 

While she didn't want to believe, that a man that she had just enjoyed the most incredible sex with, could be a psychopathic jerk or something more sinister; sure enough that was where her thoughts were headed.

XXX

It was a beautiful night. At least it was to the young and horny.

Nathan Mark had scored himself another virgin to add to his little black book. Now all he had to do was get that Jewel Freemen into the sack. His basketball team mates, had given him two months, just to get her. If he didn't, he would have to pay each of them two hundred dollars.

While Nathan had the money, after all he did come from a really wealthy family, it was for pride sake that he didn't want to pay them. 

To be honest, Jewel wasn't really his type. Her style wasn't glamorous, like most of the girls he banged. She wore baggy clothes—comfortable clothes—and hardly any make-up. In the beginning, he had thought her to be over weight and ugly. A woman, who was too undesirable for a man, like him, to even give a second glance

He was into pretty airheads that didn't do much thinking or reading. She seemed to always have her head either up in the clouds or in a book.

Yet, it had taken seeing her in a two piece, at the U of A swimming pool, for him to eat his words—she had the body of a swimmer.

In her own unique way, she was beautiful, and she took to water like a fish. While around others, she didn't put much into her own looks, yet, in private, she seemed to have no problem beautifying herself.

No matter what, he was going to have this woman; even if it was only to win that stupid bet.

He had just reached his car, with plans on his mind of either wooing or, if that didn't work, inviting her to a college party, where he could slip a roofy into her drink.

Nathan was so wrapped up in his own horny thoughts and plans, that he didn't even notice the dark, eery, fog seeping into his clothes or that unnatural chill in the air that was wrapping itself around him like a blanket.

He had the door open for only a second, before it was slammed back by this nicely shaped, manicured, hand. Turning to chastise whoever it was, he saw that it was nobody but a very exotic red headed woman.

“
Who are you?”

She smiled.

There was something provocative and, yet, frightening about her smile. If it hadn't been for the fact that Nathan was the typical horny frat boy, he probably would have been more cautious about the woman standing in front of him.

It was the way she continued to smile at him, that had him somewhat annoyed; reaching, again, to open his car door, it was then that she slammed it shut.

Visibly irritated by how rough she was being with his Charger, he said, “Hey...don't do that.”

As he stared at her mouth, he noticed, then, something that he hadn't noticed before – there were fangs, protruding just above the gum line.

“Well...,” he swallowed down the nervous lump in his throat. “I have to leave.”

It was that overwhelming fear, that had him hastily opening the car door again. Yet, this time when it was slammed shut, he was more surprised than irritated. For it wasn't the exotic red head, in front of him, that had slammed the door; it had been this strange, unfamiliar, dirty, masculine, hand.

As he turned around, he noticed, then, that there were three eery men behind him – three men that hadn't been there before.

He didn't even have time to react, before he was thrown against his car and then tossed like a rag doll on to the ground.

Nathan felt pain, but because the wind had been knocked out of him, he couldn't even utter a single scream before they were kicking the crap out of him. And then once they had him good and sedated, one of them got in back of him and, pulling his neck back, he sunk his fangs into his jugular.

While the one drank from Nathan's neck, the other two ripped his arms and legs off.

As the red head stood back watching her children feed, making a mess, that only fledgelings knew how to make, she couldn't help but smile over the carnage that they were causing.

Fledgelings were the best ones to control, because of their uncontrollable blood lust they were always looking for their next victim – they were like junkies, unable to control themselves.

They were also more powerful than any vampire slayer or master. Because of that human blood, that still course through their veins, they had this unbelievable strength that could take down even the most skilled vampire.

As she turned to leave, she felt her strength growing. Soon she would take care of that legendary vampire slayer, that the council was always bitching about.  Soon she would be able to eliminate every vampire, including the council; she would be the last superior vampire. And she would have a limited supply of blood...and sex.

Chapter Nineteen

The drive back had been an early one for Genevieve. Still somewhat groggy from sleep, the only thing that she could concentrate on doing was her driving.

Possibly that was a good thing.

If she had had more time to think about, her brain most likely would have lingered over all the facts concerning her mysterious lover and the conflicting knowledge that she now had about him.

She had done enough thinking the night before about Cirpian.

Before she had even made it back over to the bed, her pestering thoughts had took on that nagging that only Amelia was good at. In fact if Genevieve hadn't known better, she would have sworn that Amelia was there talking to her; instead of just her exhausted brain, trying to get her to see reason:

Why had he been outside that late?

Why had he been touching her car?

Unless he had something to do with her brakes, he shouldn't have been anywhere near her car.

Or possibly she was just jumping the gun. It could be just an innocent coincidence.

As it was, there was really too many coincidences. First there was that song on the radio, then her brakes, then the two separate bouquets – with the one's card apologizing about her car.

Technically that card didn't say anything about the brakes, but then again, how would that person have known about her car troubles?

Unless, they, themselves, had been present to mess with it.

Yet, there was still that possibility that she had blown the whole thing out of proportion – brakes and all. Brakes wore out, they were like any other electrical thingly a bob that one had to either fix or throw in the trash. And the song on the radio, could have been for another Genevieve – a Genevieve that actually liked that song, and didn't have bad memories while listening to it. The rose bouquet...

Well, that was actually a coincidence that couldn't be easily explained away.  Possibly she could think of something, but frankly her brain was too riddled with cobwebs to even try.

It had been this indecisiveness, that had had Genevieve not putting her clothes back on and instead going back to bed.

Surprisingly, she had slept the rest of the night through – not waking until morning. The moment she had woken up, she had noticed that Cirpian was fast asleep next to her. He had looked peaceful. Yet, there was something unnatural about the way he was sleeping – unnatural about the way his skin felt.

There was a familiar coldness about it. Yet, he didn't feel dead, just...cold.

Genevieve couldn't really put her finger on, what it was that bothered her about Cirpian's skin's temperature; just that she got this unsettling feeling about touching him. It was a strange feeling, one that she couldn't quite figure out nor did she have the patience to try.

After throwing the covers back and getting up from the bed, she, leaning down, gently skimmed her lips across his brow.

It didn't take long for her to take a shower and get dress. Where she started having problems, though, was trying to put on her make-up.

There were no mirrors in any of the typical places; like the bathrooms or even the bedrooms. Hell, there didn't seem to be any mirrors around the entire house. She had spent ten minutes trying to find a mirror upstairs. First going from room to room and then eventually, when no mirror seemed to appear out of thin air, she headed downstairs—hoping to find a mirror in the library or the foyer.

It was when Genevieve had ultimately given up on the idea of looking for a mirror, that she decided on using the small mirror in her compact to try and put her makeup on. Since practically every room had dim lighting, she decided that the best place would be the kitchen; since the lighting wasn't the same yellowish glow as the other rooms, but this pleasant white light emanating from the light fixtures. 

Once she had entered the kitchen, Genevieve, after turning the coffee pot on, hastily plopped herself down at the kitchen table, and started struggling with her make-up.

If any woman had ever tried putting her make-up on, with a small compact mirror, they knew how difficult it was and could sympathize with Genevieve's frustrations.

First it was her foundation, which was more work than it should have been; she had to hold the mirror with her left hand and smooth a dab of the foundation over her face – making sure the foundation was evened out. After the problematic foundation, Genevieve then decided to just finish up with some light eye shadow and call it a day – she had no patience with the eyeliner, and the idea of poking her eye out, just didn't sound like too much fun.

When first coming into the kitchen Genevieve had been so focused on her make-up, and her brain had been so laced with grogginess, that she had only had the cognitive ability to turn on the coffee pot.  Yet, once her grogginess had dissipated somewhat, this due largely to the effects of coffee induced caffeine, she was able to get a better look around the kitchen.

The problem with this kitchen—at least this was the conclusion she had come to—was there were modern accessories mixed in with kitchen accessories, that looked to be more suited for the fifties or eighties.  There was also that blasted wine cellar, that had her curiosity screaming for her to go down in to it; it bothered her like a pestering mosquito.

It was on her second cup, when the caffeine started to have more of an effect on her than the first cup, that her gaze, for the fifth time, went straight to that wine cellar.

For some odd reason, every time she tried to pull her gaze away from the cellar door, she found herself, again, drawn over in that direction.

Once Genevieve had drained her last cup of coffee, she put the cup next to the sink and made that short distance over to the wine cellar.

As she stood across from the door, just looking at it, it was then that she noticed the pad lock.

It was a fairly new goldish lock, that, at least to Genevieve, appeared very much out of place in the pristine kitchen.

Fingering the smooth surface, she wondered, to herself, why she couldn't seem to shake the strangeness that she got from not just the sight of that pad lock, but the wine cellar, itself? Since first laying eyes upon that cellar, she had had this unbearable urge to go down into it; yet, if possible, the goldish pad lock made that urge worse.

If it hadn't been for the slight creak from the stairs, Genevieve might have stood there for a few minutes more; just pondering about that locked cellar door. As it was, when she heard this creaking sound, she automatically assumed that Cirpian was up and descending down the stairs. Hastily dropping the lock, she hurried out of the kitchen to the stairs; expecting to meet Cirpian at the bottom. Yet, when she got over to stairs, there was no one there.

As she stood there just looking around, she finally stood on her tippy toes, and gazed perplexedly over at the library; where she noticed that there was no light on. After Genevieve had shrugged away this nervous shiver, that ran up and down her back, she was just turning to head back toward the kitchen, when she caught a strange, translucent, figure, upstairs, darting into one of the bedrooms. It was this translucent figure that had her surprisingly straining her neck to stare up the stairs.

She was just about to follow who or whatever it was, when she abruptly halted in her tracks at the sound of the grandfather clock,  in the library, chiming that it was half-past six.

After glancing down at her watch, Genevieve decided that her curiosity would have to wait. Besides, she couldn't avoid her Captain nor could she afford to be tardy today.

He had left a very disgruntle voice mail message. Basically, he had said that if she didn't show-up or have a very good excuse on why she wasn't showing up for work today – clearly he hadn't taken it in to account, that she had shown up yesterday—she would have to file for unemployment.

Glancing from the kitchen to the stairs, Genevieve found herself overbearingly curious. Her curiosity was to the point of boiling over; she didn't just want a find away into that wine cellar to investigate, but she wanted to know what it was that she saw running into that spare bedroom—next to the master. Yet, it was ultimately her rational judgment, that won out – the idea of losing her job, just didn't sound that appealing to her.

So with her curiosity stored away, for a later time, she left the house.

XXX

Genevieve knew the moment she hit Tucson. Goodbye nice mountain air and hello car AC.

The moment she parked her car across from the precinct, and got out, she could feel the difference in temperature; it would most likely be another scorcher today. 

She was just ascending the precinct's steps, when she was taken off guard by Kyle hurriedly coming out of the building and grabbing her by the arm.

“We need to get over to the U of A...They found a dead body, and from what the responding officer told the dispatcher, this is apparently a homicide.”

As he dragged her in the direction of his car, she hastily yanked her arm away from him. Just the thought that a homicide could have happened over at the college, that Jewel was attending, had Genevieve's anxiety going through the roof.

While no place in Tucson was technically safe, she would have thought that the U of A was safer than most. It had mostly college students, along with professors, that populated it's property; little narrow minded kids, who hadn't yet matured past high school, but were trying to, by getting their first taste of freedom – life away from home.

Only on rare occasions had she heard of a violent incident, actually, happening on the campus; more like a brawl between two drunken frat boys.

Probably one of the incidents that wasn't as bad as say two stupid pricks slugging it out between one another, was what Jewel, herself, had told her; one of the Residence Advisers had caught a couple having sex in their dorm room.

All and all, the U of A seemed like a pretty innocent place to be.

Hastily adverting Kyle over to her Chevy Cruze, she said, “We'll take my car.”

Once they had pulled out of the parking lot and were heading toward the U of A, Kyle turned around in his seat to look at her.

“Gen..., can I ask you something?”

Not adverting her gaze away from the road, she said, “Okay...what?”