Complicated Lives

The twins were upstairs, presumably doing their homework, and the animals were with them. Guy was visiting with Ray and Estella, and mulling over the conversation he'd had with Adele earlier in the day. Michael and Mary were enjoying some downtime to themselves in the kitchen; the hub of the Fairlawn household. True to his word, Michael hadn't revealed one bit of his own conversation with Adele. He and Mary were talking about normal parental things when the knock came at the door.

"Your turn," said Michael, draining the last of his tea from his cup.

Mary stuck her tongue out at him and went to answer the door. "Hello, Alex," she said, "come on in."

"Thanks, Mary." He tossed the inevitable cigarette butt into the snow and came in, taking off his shoes on the mat. "Michael," he nodded. "Could we talk?"

"I'll leave you two alone," said Mary, who generally didn't get involved with Brotherhood secrets. "I'd better check that they're actually doing homework up there, and not setting fire to each other."

She touched Alex briefly on the arm and smiled at him, then went upstairs.

"You're a lucky man, Michael."

"Yes, I know. Have a seat, Alex. Can I get you a drink?"

"Yes, please."

Michael knew better than to offer tea to a vampire. He went to his drinks cabinet and poured Scotch and brought it over. Dealing with the Brotherhood's woes and secrets tended to be expensive on the bar bill.

"Now," he said, pouring himself a weaker drink, just to keep Alex company, of course. "What's on your mind?"

"Adele," came the gloomy answer.

"Ah."

"She went home today."

"You weren't expecting her to move in, were you?"

"No, of course not. But... I miss her already, Michael. How is that possible? It was just a weekend of great sex." Unlike Adele, Alex didn't blush while saying this. He couldn't, of course, but he also knew that nothing shocked or surprised Michael. Even Josh and Gideon probably talked to Michael about very personal things.

"Is that all it was?" Michael asked, giving Alex a steady, measuring look.

"Well... no. I don't know. I really like her, Michael. I just don't know if this is right. I can't be in love with her already!"

"Whyever not?"

"It's too soon! There's no such thing as love at first sight."

"I beg to differ."

"Anyway," Alex plunged on, ignoring this, "it's all wrong. We're all wrong. She's too good for me."

"That's simply not true," said Michael sharply. "Don't start on that nonsense, Alex."

The Count made a helpless gesture. "I'll just ruin her," he moaned. "Like I've ruined every other woman I've ever met."

"Statements like that," said Michael, gripping his patience tightly, "make me regret my non-violence policy. Statements like that become self-fulfilling prophecies. So derail that train of thought right now."

"It's true."

"Then make this the time it isn't true. Don't start out thinking it's going to go wrong. Try believing in yourself for a change. Believe in Adele."

"I..." Alex sighed. "You're right. I'm a fool."

"No. You're just confused. Who isn't? What you need to do, Alex, is give this some time. Don't rush things. They will happen naturally. Adele wants to see you again, doesn't she?"

He nodded. "She wants me to spend the summer with her in Venice. She wants us to spend her spring break together."

"There, you see? She wouldn't want that if she didn't have some feelings for you. This sounds like love in the making, Alex. Let it grow. Don't crush it."

Alex stared into his glass. It was empty. Michael poured him another measure. "I'll try," he said. After a few seconds, he said, "Is there something going around? Some kind of bug?"

"What do you mean?" Michael asked, wondering wildly for a moment who was ill that he didn't know about.

"Everybody seems to be falling in love these days, haven't you noticed? Even _Ray_ caught it."

Michael laughed. "Don't look at me," he said. "I caught it years ago and never recovered. There isn't a vaccine, thank the goddess. Anyway, I think you're already infected."

"So it would seem." Alex drained the last of his Scotch and stood up. "Thanks," he said.

"Any time you need to talk, I'm here," Michael said.

"Yeah, I know," Alex smiled. He put his shoes back on. "How on earth you stand the lot of us, I'll never know."

"It's a knack," Michael replied.

Alex opened the door, then turned and looked at the short, blond Archdruid. "Who do _you_ talk to when you need to talk?" he asked curiously.

"Mary, of course," came the reply with a smile.

"You're a lucky man," Alex repeated. "Night, Michael." He let himself out.

When the door was safely closed, Michael's smile faded.

"I know I am," he said quietly to the empty kitchen. "Believe me, I know."

Adele was sitting morosely in what was supposed to be a comforting bubble bath. She had, she freely admitted, once again been impulsive. She'd left Alex not at all in the way she'd wanted to. But his suddenly wanting this to be an exclusive relationship had so astonished her she'd been off-balance. That was something she'd never even thought of, let alone would have asked for. Her jest about Mrs Jenkins ought to have been obvious enough. She hadn't asked him, for instance, to swear he wouldn't go to bed with Maggie. Nor would she have minded if he had. Yes, all right, she would have, but she'd never have let him _know_ that!

She idly wondered what he was doing. Let's see, it is 10pm here there it will be.. "Stop it!" she said aloud.

She'd drive herself quite crazy if she was going to spend her time wondering what he was doing every minute of his day. She grinned. Well, at least she knew exactly what he was doing during his nights. Then she burst into tears.

She finally got out of the tub, donned a pair of flannel ski pajamas (blue decorated with white snowflakes) and told herself she really really needed to study. She'd almost fallen asleep in class and her professor had taken her aside, worried she was ill. Hah. If he'd only known. She'd told him of her decision for Venice. She didn't mention the whole staying in a villa thing. That she'd save for the professor leading the summer restoration project. Most of the students would stay together, but so far as Adele knew there was no real requirement for that. Surely she wouldn't be the only student who knew someone local.

She slipped on her slippers and padded downstairs to the kitchen. She'd missed dinner here, due to her late class. But Mabel generally left her something easily warmed. Often she'd just eat out but Mabel seemed to feel it necessary to be prepared always for the times when she wouldn't. Sure enough, there was a plate in the refrigerator that merely needed to be heated in the microwave.

Adele put it into said magical device, got herself a glass of milk and sat down at the kitchen table, staring out into the small currently-dead garden.
It would be beautiful in the spring, but now it was bleak enough to match her thoughts. Who left the garden lighting on anyway. It just made the place look even more dreary.

She heard the kitchen door snick open and turned, expecting Mabel, or perhaps Spencer. Instead it was Julian. He seldom, okay never, ventured into the kitchen. What was he doing here now?

He smiled at her, walked over to the refrigerator and got himself out a beer. Beer? Julian?

He walked toward her and was about to sit down with her when the microwave dinged. "Stay there, " he said and got the plate out for her. He even brought her cutlery and a napkin.

Once he'd set all that before her he sat opposite her with his beer.

"So, how was the party?" he asked.

Adele's stomach sank. Didn't Nimue show up here? But he didn't look depressed. In fact he was looking remarkably contented.

"Nimue looked fabulous," she ventured.

"Yes, she did," he replied.

So! She had been here. Might even be here now for all Adele knew. It wasn't unusual for her and Julian to not see one another for days at a stretch.

"So did you," he offered.

She made a face and took a bite from her dinner.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

Adele goggled. He hardly ever asked questions like that. Was she that obvious? Yes, she decided sadly, she probably was.

"I'm... Uhm.. Things got a bit out of hand," she said.

"So I hear."

"From whom?" Adele asked, ready to jump down someone's, anyone's throat.

"You can't keep secrets on the Cliff Road."

"So I discovered. I just hadn't realized you were hooked into that particular grapevine."

He laughed. She'd heard that awfully seldom for the past few months. She was delighted to hear it again. And unhappy that she couldn't laugh with him."So, did you happen to tell Alex about your fiancé?"

"He isn't my fiancé. I never said 'yes'."

"Blakesley seems to be expecting a wedding. So does Geoffrey."

"All right. I admit it, I never said 'no' either."

Julian watched her eat for some time in silence then finally offered, after a sigh, "Blakesley is going to attempt to kill me again when he finds out you've lost your heart to a vampire. Both he and Geoffrey have been dreaming of little magical babies popping out of you. A magical dynasty for their ambitions."

She chose not to think about that at all. "Oh, Julian... It was supposed to be... I mean, who'd have thought someone like Alex would... He was SAFE!"

"Obviously not."

"Obviously," she admitted glumly.

"So, do you care for him, too?"

"I..." she began, then snapped her mouth shut. Then she burst into tears.

Julian moved his chair to sit next to her and hold her.

"You do owe Geoffrey a 'no'".

Yes, she did. But if she went to give it to him they might end up in bed and she couldn't!

"Sshhh," he whispered kissing the side of her head as she cried harder. "Shall I threaten to turn Alex into a newt if he misbehaves?"

"Don't you dare!"

He smiled. "Well, it could be fun...."

"Don't!"

"Your wish is my command."

She straightened up and pushed him away. She wiped at her tears and said, angrily, "I do NOT cry. What is wrong with me?"

Julian laughed easily.

"Oh, he makes me so furious, Julian!"

He raised an eyebrow. "Welcome to love, Adele."

---------

A flurry of letters over the Telegraph confirmed that Janine Goldanias in Toronto, had not missed the fact that Alex and Adele were an item.

I'm very sorry you were hurt."

Janine's response to Adele, which she forgot to mark private:

"You'll be sorrier."

Alex reacted immediately. He ordered Janine to cease and desist:

"Dear Janine: You forgot to mark that last one private. It sounded like a threat to me. Stay in Toronto. If you come anywhere near Adele, I will take you down. I mean it."

Janine, of course, chose not to listen.

Alex then called in the big Gun Moll, Genevieve:

"Dear Genevieve:

I swore I was never going to do this, that I'd shoulder my responsibility as turnsire and manage somehow, but... I need your help.
I appeal to you in your capacity as master vampire and Prince of France.

What am I going to do about Janine? I think she's gone totally insane. She simply will not cease this campaign of vindictiveness and hate she has launched against me, and now she is threatening Adele.

Gods, Gen, help me out here.."

Genevieve, after assuring herself Adele felt no real threat from Janine, although admitted Adele did not know the young vampire, replied:

" Cher Alexandre:

You placed me in a difficult position, you know. When you call upon me in my official capacity, that is a serious matter. I have given your appeal the attention it deserves and thought long and hard about my answer.

This, then is my judgement; and remember, I am speaking as master and Prince, not merely as myself.

I do not believe that Janine has threatened harm to Adele. There is very little she could do to cause such harm in the first place; Adele is here in France and Janine is in Toronto. I do not believe your cousin has the means to travel about the world freely, and Adele is a witch and able to defend herself.

It is possible that Janine means to harm you; that is your concern, Alex, not mine. She is your fledgling. Her behaviour towards you and disciplining her for it is your responsibility. You are a turnsire; act like one. If you give her a direct order, she must obey, it is in the blood.

Should this situation change and Janine truly offer a threat to Adele or any other innocent bystanders, then I will act.

Do we understand each other?"

Meanwhile, in Toronto, T'Beth, who'd never much liked Janine, warned Alex of Janine's acting out and even offered to off Janine for him. He declined the offer with grace.

T’beth thought about her approach to the problem of Janine Goldanias. She couldn’t just charge in there, guns blazing, although the idea had a certain appeal. There was protocol to follow.

The arrangements in Toronto were fairly informal. North American vampires didn’t tend to be as rigidly hierarchical as European ones. There was no Prince—not of Toronto, nor of Ontario or Canada. Oh, Adrian might _say_ he was Prince of Toronto and say, when pressed, that he had killed Safelli in order to claim that title, but none of the other undead in the city recognized him as such. Everything in Toronto was very … polite. Territories and boundaries were observed by tacit agreement; and always with the underlying possibility that things could get very … impolite if the situation warranted. Nobody wanted a loose cannon. If Janine wasn’t careful, she would find herself in far hotter water than she expected.

What was the _point_ of a hate vendetta against your turnsire? T’beth had never really liked Lord Carrock, her own turnsire, but she hadn’t wasted her time and energy fighting him every step of the way, either. As she’d once told Adrian, Carrock wasn’t worth the energy to hate. And she’d killed the vampire who had slain Carrock because, well, that was what you did.

But there was still a certain protocol, even without the hierarchy. T’beth could not touch Janine without permission from the girl’s turnsire. Unfortunately, the said turnsire seemed badly in need of a backbone and a boot in the rear. Still, he hadn’t expressly forbidden T’beth to approach his fledgling. There was enough grey area there to work in.

T’beth decided, after some consultation with Fluffy, to try just talking to Janine. The girl lived in the upper flat of a private house; and such dwellings tended to be infested with that nuisance, the common landlady. T’beth, as half Iranian and half African, generally received the worst of both worlds. A lot of Torontonians were automatically suspicious and afraid of blacks, due to the amount of violence and gangs in the city. And anyone Middle Eastern was, of course, automatically a terrorist with Al-Quaeda. T’beth couldn’t win either way. There was no way the landlady would believe that T’beth was a client of Janine’s interior decorating service, or a personal friend of the girl’s. A cover story was necessary, and Fluffy came up with a good one.

So, dressed in a windsuit and ribbed sleeveless T, T’beth set out for Parkdale. She found the address on Gothic Avenue (and what had possessed the girl to move in on that street?), but a quick scan of the neighbourhood told her there was no sign of Janine’s car anywhere.

Hmm. Still, the charade had to be played out. She got as far as halfway up the outside stairs to Janine’s flat when the inevitable landlady appeared.

“Can I help you?” she demanded, clutching her housecoat around her as if she was afraid T’beth was going to ravish her.

“I was looking for Janine Goldanias,” said T’beth, trying hard to sound pleasant. Charm wasn’t one of her fortes. She needed Adrian for this, but she and Fluffy had both agreed to leave the actor out of the loop. He was going to be pissed when he found out. Too damn bad.

“I don’t think she’s in,” said the landlady. “Her car’s not here. Who are you?”

“I’m her personal trainer,” T’beth replied. “She was supposed to meet me at the gym an hour and a half ago, and didn’t show up. She never misses a session, and she didn’t call. I thought maybe she might be sick or something, and came over to see.”

“Oh.” The landlady took in the gym outfit, the muscles, the stance of someone physically fit. “That’s nice of you,” she ventured.

“I look after my clients,” said T’beth. “And Janine has never missed her time.”

The landlady, who introduced herself as Mrs. Garvey (T’beth didn’t offer a name; keep the lies to a minimum), knocked on the door to the upper flat. “Janine? Are you at home?”

No answer, and a distinct feeling of emptiness radiated from the apartment. T’beth could not sense another vampire mind behind that door. The bird had fled, then. Where had she gone? To work? Out for a drive? Or gone for good?

“I guess something else must have come up, maybe a family emergency, and she didn’t have time to call me,” T’beth said. “Thanks, Mrs. Garvey.”

“Oh, you’re welcome, dear.”

Dear. As simply as that, T’beth had gone from being a potential thief or trouble-maker to being “dear”. Lord, what fools… etc. Let Adrian do the Shakespeare quotes.

She waited around til well after midnight, when she was sure Mrs. Garvey had gone to bed and was sound asleep. In all that time, there was no sign of Janine’s return. Then it was back up the stairs and into the apartment. T’beth worked, when she felt like it, as a private investigator. She had a large assortment of very illegal tools.

It was quite a nice little apartment; Janine had good taste. There was all the requisite furniture and bric-a-brac. What there wasn’t was a blonde vampire. T’beth had no idea how many clothes and bags Janine owned, but there were signs that drawers had been flung open and rifled through and that the closet had been treated similarly.

“Uh-oh,” said T’beth. She left, considerately locking the door again behind her.

Better let the spineless turnsire know his fledgling was on the run.

-------------

She wasn't quite certain what had spurred her to uproot herself and headback to Maine, but Janine Goldanias hadn't really ever stopped to analyze her emotions. Ever since she'd been turned into a vampire by her cousin Alex, a steady seething of anger and hatred had grown inside her, blinding her to all else.

For awhile, moving here to Toronto had worked. She had set up her own business and made a mild success of it and worked out an accommodation with the other vampires in the city. But the anger had blighted her, blighted her business, and blighted her life.

A small part of her was aware that she was irrational, but she easily ignored this tiny voice.

Janine was, by nearly any standards, certifiably insane.

She didn't know it, and neither did Alex, but an older, wiser vampire could have told them. Sometimes the turning went wrong. Genevieve had always warned her potential fledglings of this, but nobody had ever warned Alex, two vampire generations removed and turned by a careless vampire. Sometimes the change caused insanity. Sometimes the fledgling died, or became a different monster, a ghoul like Elrich and Jared. It was one of the reasons why turning was controlled, or should have been; one reason why it was actively discouraged among the vampires of the Brotherhood. It probably didn't help matters any for Janine that the Goldanias line had a strong streak of mental instability to begin with and that her turnsire was a manic depressive.

Bitter, jealous, angry, hurt, totally unable to let go. And a vampire. Not a good combination.

She drove through Quebec the first night. She knew the right places to stay and how to remain safe even in a motel during the day. Alex had taught her that much. The next dusk, she was on the highway to the New England coast.

Next stop, exit 21.

This would require a bit of strategy, she realized as she hit the outskirts of Fletcherville. No doubt by now the Brotherhood was alerted that she had left Toronto. Probably that bitch T'beth had come looking for her... Janine shuddered. She'd gotten out of Toronto just in time, as she had no desire to let that bloodthirsty sadistic maniac near her. Adrian was all right if you got him one-on-one and in a good mood, but T'beth was just a brute. She and Evan would make quite a match.

Evan... yes, he might be a problem. If he caught her lurking in town or near the Cliff Road, she'd be toast. Driving up the road itself was out of the question. Everyone would be watching for her, and Valley Mansion was one of the farther houses. Even Francis would probably report her if he found her sneaking past.
She kept half an eye out for the sheriff, too. Gainsborough knew she wasn't entirely welcome out on the Cliff Road. If he caught her in town, he'd probably be sarcastic. Fox Fletcher, too, knew Janine was vampira non grata in these parts. Fox wouldn't be sarcastic, though. He'd just turn her over to Alex, fast. If she was lucky... Fox had threatened to turn her over his knee, too.

But Janine had thoroughly explored the town and valley when she had lived in the mansion, and knew her way about. She parked her car well down the beach, where the general public seldom came. And certainly not in March. It was a dark car, with tinted windows, and unlikely to catch the straying eye in under the trees where she parked it.

It was a long trek from there, and she had to climb a fence that marked the end of the public beach and the start of the private beach under the cliff... property of the Cliff Road Crowd. If you could call this a beach. Bogs, rocks, tide pools, dead fish, driftwood... ugh, no wonder nobody ever came down here. Or hardly ever, at any rate; she knew that Alex would occasionally climb down the slippery steps from Valley Mansion to sit on a rock, smoke those damn cigar things of his, and brood. How Byronic. But he wouldn't be down here tonight; he'd be up there going insane trying to prevent Janine from arriving. Or better yet, he'd be frantically trying to protect Adele.

Janine had no intention of ever going near precious Adele. Let the bitch whore weep copious tears over Alex's staked corpse. Tightening her backpack, Janine eyed the steps that led up. She hadn't been brought up to be a Navy SEAL, but oh, well. Needs must.

She started to climb.

Complicated Lives

by A. Fraser and Jean Hontz Part 7

by A. Fraser and Jean Hontz

Part 7