Woman King

CHAPTER 38

Later that evening, five of us—Josef, William, Gabriel, Madeline and I—set out for Paris. Gabriel sent a car for us at 10 pm, and by midnight we were in the air, traveling on Levi’s private plane, with one stop in New York for refueling. Levi was only too happy to send us on what he thought was a celebratory trip after a successful election.

The flight crew brought several newspapers onboard, giving me a chance to read about the bombing. The police, the news accounts said, were baffled by the explosions, which at this point they were labeling an act of terrorism against the museum. One journalist theorized that an animal rights group opposed to the Academy’s collection of reptiles and amphibians had set off the car bombs in protest. A special team had been brought in from the FBI. But so far, no human remains had been found, leading investigators to believe the bombs were detonated as a warning, a threat of further violence.

Did Aidan know what was coming, I wondered? Did he see the threat lurking? We’d never know. Hastily, I folded the newspaper against my chest and sat for a moment, my head down, contemplating the weight of what had transpired.

“Don’t, Olivia,” Gabriel said, as he sat down beside me. “This is my responsibility, you understand? Aidan was not an amateur. He didn’t put himself in harm’s way because of you.”

I nodded, trying hard to swallow his logic. I opened the paper back up and pointed to a story. “I lost a lot of blood at the scene,” I said. “Did you go back and bewitch the site?”

Gabriel nodded. “Bien sûr. Indeed, there was a lot of blood, and much of it was not human,” he said. “I cast a spell to hide the evidence. The police will look and look, but never find a trace of DNA.”

“How did you manage to get back there without being caught?”

“Magic, of course.” He said. “The fog came in thick that night, but you know how this works, why are you asking?”

“I guess I needed to hear you say it,” I said. “Since the moment we met, I’ve felt as if I’ve entered a world that seems to defy logic, or perhaps bend it a bit. I’m still absorbing it all. I should have died in the explosion. Instead I’m on a plane to Paris, my leg almost healed. The force of the car bombs collapsed the front of a major American museum, but the police will never know why it happened. We, the Council, are a heavy, but invisible, set of hands.”

Gabriel regarded me for a moment after I finished speaking. He seemed poised to say something, but then merely put his hand on my knee, gave it a gentle squeeze and then got up and walked away. I watched him make his way to the other end of the plane, take a seat and close his eyes. Exactly, I thought. Cheating death, misleading a police investigation, the disappearance of Elsa and Lily. It was difficult to imagine more dramatic circumstances. It was enough to leave anyone speechless.

Hours later, the plane landed at a private terminal at Charles de Gaulle International Airport. Madeline was the first to depart, promising to quickly open the bureau and settle the staff. She wasn’t seriously injured in the blast, but her wounds were painful all the same. The rest of us walked off the plane a few minutes later in somber silence. As we descended the stairway, I picked up on the group’s feelings that we were missing part of our team. No Elsa, no Aidan, and no Lily. Their absence was palpable, but we had no choice but move forward.

I could think of little but justice, of catching Aidan’s murderer. I had intended to pressure Gabriel to develop a plan, but still feeling shell-shocked and grieving, I couldn’t find the courage to press him while we were in the air. Later, after a day or so had passed, I would ask what he intended to do to punish Nikola. All of my instincts told me he was the person responsible for this calamity.

Revenge fantasies occupied my thoughts during the drive into Paris. After making our way through the usual maze of landmarks, we arrived at the 10th arrondissement and the Rue du Faubourg Saint Martin, where William’s apartment is located. The driver removed our bags from the car, and we bade Gabriel á bientôt, promising to see him later that evening, perhaps for drinks.

While I marveled at the stark elegance of the nineteenth century buildings, Josef stepped under the building’s awning to punch in the security code. William and Josef’s apartment was just steps away from the Canal Saint Martin and the Quai de Valmy, an up-and-coming neighborhood where many of the city’s fashionable boutiques set up shop.

“Remind me again.” I asked. “What year did your father buy this apartment?”

“Nineteen thirty,” William said. “A broker, another vampire, found it for us. This neighborhood was not always so chic. We needed a place out of the spotlight.”

“Do you visit often?”

“I was here last spring,” he said. “I usually come in April and leave at the end of June before it gets too hot. Despite my Southern roots, I don’t care much for the heat. Explains why I like San Francisco. I’ve also visited in November and stayed through winter. The time I spend here hinges on where else I need to be.”

“Where else do you need to be?” I asked, curious, as we loaded some of our luggage into the tiny elevator inside the building. Josef had decided to take the stairs. The elevator door closed and William continued. “I own property in Paris, Zagreb, New Orleans and San Francisco,” he said. “Some are long-term rentals, others I advertise as short-term vacation places.”

“And this apartment?” I asked, as we stepped into the elevator.

“This is our family home,” he said. “No one else stays here.”

The family home occupied the top floor of a six-story building. I counted four bedrooms and three bathrooms on my tour, as well as a kitchen, a living room, a formal dining room and a terrace that wrapped around most of the apartment, giving each of the bedrooms a small veranda. Clearly, a caretaker or concierge helped maintain the apartment. Trees and plants on the deck were healthy and lush. The apartment itself was immaculate, free of any lingering odor that usually accompanies a home that has been abandoned or closed up for long periods of time. Freshly cut flowers had been placed in vases in every room.

The shell of the apartment maintained its nineteenth century bones through original moldings and wood floors. Beyond that, the space had recently been remodeled to include modern appliances and conveniences. A dizzying array of art lined the walls—paintings, sketches, and propaganda posters—all of it documenting the decades marking the dawn of modern Europe. Antiques and modern pieces of furniture were paired together in great harmony, achieving the perfect Parisian salon.

“It’s a magnificent home,” I said, standing in the living room. “I can see why you keep it private.”

William glanced over at Josef, who’d walked in with our remaining bags.

“It’s the last link we have to our father,” William said quietly. “We’ve maintained and updated the property as necessary to avoid attention from my neighbors. “This arrondissement wasn’t always so fashionable. But we wanted to be away from the center of the city to attend to our needs in private.”

“It’s beautiful,” I repeated.

“We can live here if you like,” William said, taking my hand. “At least part of the year. That is, if you don’t mind Josef popping in and out.”

“I would love to live here,” I said. “I’ll have to ask Gabriel. Since there is an office here, perhaps he won’t mind.”

“You don’t have to work,” he said. “Once we’re married, I mean. I have plenty of money and so do you. We could disappear and enjoy the surroundings.”

“Are you being romantic, or trying to protect me?”

“A little of both.”

I confess, it sounded splendid. Paris is a city of infinite diversions, not to mention a fabulous access point to the rest of Europe. Wouldn’t it be magical, I thought, to explore the world with William, lingering here and there as the mood struck us. It was an attractive offer, and I was giving it serious thought. That is, until current circumstances brought me back to reality in the form of a sore, tired leg. I shifted my weight off the wounded limb, leaning back and forth to reduce the discomfort. It seemed our long flight was finally catching up with me.

“I need a bath,” I said, fluttering my eyelashes. “Care to join me?”

“Darlin, it would be my pleasure,” William said. “But you go without me. I should pay a visit to our concierge to let her know we’re settled. I phoned her before we left, which is why we arrived to find things so civilized. When you’re finished, meet us on the deck for a drink.”

Before leaving, he walked me into the master bedroom. Spacious, its walls painted in royal blue, a wooden four-poster bed dominated the room, with a chandelier hanging above it. If Lily were here, she’d have said the room was something straight out of a romance novel. Too true, I agreed, as I gazed around at the antique chests along the wall, and then slowly I ran my fingers along the chocolate brown linen duvet and matching pillows that covered the bed. I was no stranger to money or elegance, but living for centuries seemed to provide an advantage when it came to meaningful, timeless décor.

I entered the bathroom and studied the porcelain knobs on the bath as I ran the hot water. While the tub was filling, I decided to call my mother’s hotel and let her know I was in town. Explanations would be in order for arriving early, but as I dialed her number at the Ritz, I decided that sticking with the truth—that we’d had an opportunity to come earlier by private plane—was the best idea. Any deviation, however small, and she would certainly detect it. I was spared putting my theory to the test, however, when I was informed that my mother was out at her gallery for the afternoon, so I left word with the front desk.

Near the tub was a large glass jar with bath salts. I removed the lid and inhaled, delighted by the scents of geranium and rose oil. I sent a generous scoop cascading into the steaming water and prepared to settle in. Once submerged, I let out a grateful sigh as the heat soaked through my bones and muscles, dissolving the stiffness brought on by travel and fatigue. I closed my eyes and let my mind wander, lulled by the quiet. I drifted away, pulled into a dreamlike state as I inhaled the perfumed oils. I would have gladly stayed that way were it not for Josef’s voice breaking the spell.

“Be careful now… you might drown,” he said, regarding me lazily from the doorway.

“Go away,” I said, sending him my fiercest gaze. “I would never have pegged you as a peeping tom. How long have you been standing there?”

“Long enough,” he said, waggling his eyebrows. “I came in to check on you, it was so quiet. I feared you were about to fall asleep.”

“Unlikely, but thank you, mission accomplished,” I said. “It seems your work is done here.”

Josef didn’t budge. Instead he regarded me, and I mean all of me, silently, the two of us staring at each other. Locked in his gaze, it occurred to me that this was a test; it was always a test with him. For my part I refused to play the prude; showing any discomfort would only bring him pleasure.

“Out with you,” I said, my voice made of sterner stuff this time, while flicking water at him from the tub. “You may go and let your brother know I’ll join you both for drinks shortly.”

Josef grinned, amused at my firm rebuke. “As you wish, my lady,” he said bending at the waist, before turning out of the bathroom.

After he’d gone, I rose from the tub and wrapped a towel around myself. I dried off and returned to the bedroom to find my suitcase. As I crossed the room to get my things, I noticed that my leg felt much better, most of the stiffness gone. It was amazing that I could walk at all, and I marveled at how William’s blood had saved my life. My life was becoming more interesting than any science fiction novel I’d ever read.

I pulled on a black woolen sweater-dress and paired it with suede boots and a brown-and-black leopard print pashmina shawl. I’d vacillated about whether to bring the boots. Being in a hurry usually means packing light. But this was Paris, and I was loath to arrive underdressed for the most elegant city in the world.

I gave myself one last look in a small mirror on a table and went in search of William and Josef. As I progressed down the hallway I popped my head into each of the apartment’s rooms again, admiring the décor along the way. I found the two brothers seated outside on the terrace, a bottle of red wine decanting in a glass vessel on a table next to them. Next to the wine, apple slices, bread and a small selection of cheeses had been arranged on a wooden tray. Heaters were set up around the furniture, making the outside temperature comfortable. I looked up at William, who winked at me, “Bon appétit, ma chère.”

“Merci pour l’aperitif. C’est très charmant,” I said, thanking him for a lovely meal. I was famished, having eaten little in the days prior to our trip. It felt good to sit and eat, to drink French wine, and gaze across the rooftops. For a few moments, I pretended that none of the memories I was carrying existed. No danger pending, no death, no mourning, no loss. It was a selfish thing, burying them away. But for a few seconds, I wanted to feel happy, not be obligated to carry the lost and the dead with me in my heart.

“Did you reach your mother?” William inquired, pulling me back to earth.

I looked over and gazed at my future husband, pale and lovely in the dusk. My heart did a little flip in my chest watching him; he was mine and I was his, our blood mingled in our veins. William smiled at me, clearly hearing my thoughts. His smile was small and private, and I knew that he understood.

“I didn’t reach her but left a message,” I said. “She’s out at her gallery, so I don’t expect to hear back from her until tomorrow. She’ll work until very late and then go to bed. I was planning on inviting her to meet us tomorrow for drinks at a café nearby.”

“Do I get to meet your mother?” Josef asked, a petulant tone attached to the question. “Are you introducing the whole family?”

Good question, I mused. Hello, Mom, meet your new sons-in-law, they’re vampire brothers. But how could I not? In for a penny, in for a pound, I decided. “Yes, of course. After everything we’ve been through, I’m not hiding anything from my mother.”

That brought a rare, joyful smile from Josef. We passed the next hour amicably, making small talk while I nibbled away at the bread and cheese. Not long afterwards, it was decided that we needed to experience Paris nightlife. William suggested an old jazz club in the Latin Quarter, where he knew a full bar and reliable musicians could be found. There was a taxi stand near the apartment and within minutes we’d secured a cab. Josef slid in first, giving the driver directions in impeccable French.

“Did you speak French before the war?” I asked.

Josef looked over at William, a private memory shared between them. “No,” he said. “I spoke Czech primarily, a bit of Hungarian…a little German and English. French is something I acquired in my second life.”

The cab made its way toward the Latin Quarter. We were heading to a club located underground that didn’t open until 10 pm, wouldn’t really be in full swing until midnight, and closed only when the sun began to rise. The doorman greeted William and Josef by name, sending us inside with a hearty bonne soirée and a pat on the back. A helpful but flirtatious woman brought us to a table in the rear of the club. Drinks were promptly served and we sat back to enjoy the music.

A lone pianist under a spotlight began to play a sad, crisp lament that seemed to pay tribute to some far off place. Soon, a man appeared with a bass, then another with a trumpet, and voila, we were treated to a blues trio.

A few numbers into their set, William excused himself from the table and disappeared. He did not return again until he appeared on stage, a guitar in his hand. I watched, amused, as he and the pianist opened up a spirited rendition of “St. James Infirmary,” the piano grinding out the notes against an upright bass and guitar. I closed my eyes, listening as William played. He remained on the stage for a few more numbers and then finally set his guitar against the wall and returned to our table.

“Play here often?” I teased.

“A bit,” he said. “I know most these guys, a few of them are vampires, so it’s always easy to ask if I can sit in when I’m in town.”

Good music and an abundant list of drinks helped the night pass quickly. Eventually, I grew weary, jet lag finally catching up with me, and I asked if we could make our way back home. Josef scowled at first, clearly intent on staying until dawn.

“Feel free to stay,” I said. “I don’t want to be responsible for killing your fun.”

“I’ll see you both home and then go on from there,” he said, picking up my wrap and handing it to me.