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Chapter 9 (Adam Novus Chronicles - Book 1)
🕑 Added 2021-05-02 10:23:20 +0000 UTCOne of the things I need to get used to is being fully awake to welcome every sunrise. Not be able to sleep for more than a few hours really messes up with my perception of time; it is not natural. But then again, what is natural about me anymore?
The morning came extraordinarily slowly. After a few hours, I was fed up with what passed as entertainment in this time. While the Internet has become far more sophisticated, there are ads everywhere, and all of them ask for my email so they can put me on their freaking list—I hate lists. When did advertisers become so pushy? Like a bunch of starving piranhas, competing to get a part of your time and attention. Every single one of them is trying to sell you something that will greatly improve your life; at least they say it would. Frankly, I am all fed up with improvements and changes; in my experience, they tend to be disruptive.
OK, I guess I need to learn how to adapt without breaking my new shiny computer into a million pieces; money is tight right now.
FYI, I researched the hell of that subject last night, even had to charge the laptop again… it was about to die. Of all advances in the last decade and they still couldn’t figure out how to make a decent battery that lasts for a few days… highly disappointing.
Sitting in my room and looking out of the window and contemplating my existence was depressing as hell. The morning song of various birds was particularly annoying, I wonder if Marcus would mind if I silence a few of them… permanently. That’s it, I desperately needed coffee and food.
Another thing I noticed was that my caloric intake needs have considerably increased. My body now requires (approximately) double of what was my standard ten years ago. Even so, I couldn’t discern any weight gain, these new muscles remained the same, chiseled.
The entire house seemed empty, like being in a museum—alone. The shades were covering all the windows. This being a house that was full of vampires made that quite understandable.
The smell of baking bread was to me as a siren’s song is to a horny sailor; I followed it to the kitchen on the ground floor, like a bloodhound.
There were ten members of staff gathered around the table, having an early breakfast.
“Excuse me,” I said, standing by the door. “I’m sorry for interrupting you, but can you direct me to the closest source of coffee?”
They all froze in their seats looking at me like a herd of deer caught in headlights. The wave of apprehension sent my way was… depressing. It seems the stories from last night traveled fast. I needed a way to convince them that I was not some monster that Marcus dragged back from the Amazon Jungle, but an ordinary Joe. One of them, a working-class man… despite our differences. These people made food in this joint; as far as I was concerned—they were the most important beings in this place.
“Certainly, sir,” the one dressed in butler livery said, rising from his chair. “It is still a bit too early, we don’t make breakfast for the elders for another hour… but you are quite welcome to join us…” he said deferentially, in a distinct upper-class British accent.
The others looked at him as if they couldn’t believe what he just said; but what the hell, I was invited.
“Don’t mind if I do, thank you,” I replied and grabbed an empty chair.
Man, these people eat well; hot bread, cold cuts, bear claws, honey buns, and there was even a tray full of donuts. My mouth was salivating merely by looking at it all. The butler passed me a plate and a still steaming cup full of that magical life-giving fluid.
Black coffee, how I missed thee.
The others were a little skittish, and uneasy, and then I figured out why. These were all vampires, and their cups were filled with blood. Maybe they thought that made me uncomfortable? Therefore, I did something stupid—I opened my mouth.
“Oh, I don't mind the blood; please don't hold back on my account. I have seen Marcus feed enough times, it’s not that big of a deal. The first time he saw me feed, he almost puked. It was right after I killed those two miscreants that he was hunting for. Although, I kind of get why he was noxious; he was watching me eat raw liver at the time, still warm and dripping with blood.”
One thing about telling the story is having the right audience and the timing. For some reason, I think this was more a crash and burn situation than the one that would put the staff at ease.
Or maybe that was not the right thing to say during breakfast, but I was nervous, blabbering without thinking. They all turned stiff, not looking at me, but rather focused on their plates. The apprehension I felt earlier turned into all-out fear, radiating from them in waves. Damn, I dug that hole myself.
“Don’t be concerned, I'm not partial to the fresh raw liver, I can eat anything.” That should reassure them, right?
Some of them looked at me with fake smiles; you know the ones when it looks almost like a grimace. One youngish-looking girl at the end of the table was looking as if she was about to cry; her chin was trembling; the fear was slowly turning to all-out panic. Damn, I am not digging myself out of this one, better to quit while I still could.
“Ah... I will take this to my room, work to do,” I said, quickly standing up. Weak excuse, but it was all I could think of. Taking my plate and the coffee cup, I strategically withdrew myself from the kitchen. Behind me, a sense of extreme relief radiated from that room… what a bummer.
An hour later, there was a knock on my door. “Enter,” I yelled; these were some big rooms.
Marcus opened the door, pushing a cart filled with food and more coffee, bless his soul.
“What the hell did you do to the staff?” was the first thing he uttered.
“Why?”
“I came across a maid standing in front of your door, with this cart. I thought she was going to kiss me when she saw me, and for some reason, politely begged me if I would bring you the food so you wouldn't feel the hunger; she was terrified.” He stated, looking at me suspiciously.
I explained to him my encounter with the help and the bastard had the temerity to laugh—for five minutes straight.
“Did you mention that it was a deer liver? The way you said it, the most logical thing was for them to assume you munched on those two idiots.”
I looked at him and snorted, “I figured it out on the way to my room, but it felt stupid to go back and clarify the misunderstanding.”
“Adam, you know that the help talks to one another, they have a whole network among different clans. Your legend will grow, but now it will be, ‘Drink your blood honey, or Adam Novus will eat your liver’.” He started laughing once again, despite me expressing my opinion with the middle finger. I didn't think it was all that funny. Vampires, they are a weird bunch, the lot of them.
But there was food getting cold, and that would be a crime. The plate I took from the kitchen was not even close enough to make me full. Marcus joined me and soon we cleared everything from that cart, especially the desserts.
“OK, get ready, we need to be at the airport in an hour,” he enigmatically said, refusing to give any more details when I asked.
The ride was in that same stretched limo, but this time I got to appreciate the smooth-running machine, not being afflicted by mind fogs and raging headaches.
We arrived at the private field, just as the small Learjet was taxiing to a stop. The clamshell-style door opened and a rather short woman stepped out. But damn, she was hot, and I mean seriously hot. Think Selma Hayek in From Dusk Till Dawn, with curves in all the right places. As soon as she saw us, she screamed “Marcus” and ran to him… damn.
She threw herself into his arms and gave him a scorching kiss; I could feel their passion like a wave of emotional heat. After a few minutes of improper necking and whispering sweet nothings in Spanish, she finally let him go. I was feeling a bit uncomfortable at that time. Being the third wheel was never my thing.
She turned to me smiling, while Marcus said, “Adam, may I introduce my wife, Esmeralda,” with the look of an immense pride on his face.
I was stunned; this was the same woman that had turned Marcus… a long, long time ago. The jerk avoided talking about her after that night in the jungle and I assumed they parted ways, or that she somehow died. I thought I was polite and considerate for not bringing her up, regardless of how curious I was. He never said anything about marrying her. Not to mention that they most likely held a Guinness World Record for the longevity of their union.
“Adam, Marcus has told me so much about you on the phone, thank you for saving him; I don’t know if I could live without mi corazón,” she said right after him and hugged me very tightly.
Did I say that she had all the right curves? Well, now two of them were smashed against my chest, and there was plenty there to be smashed.
Oh, God, this is so uncomfortable… in a very pleasant way.
I tried to do multiplication in my head, then tried to spell a few tricky words, anything to distract myself from what my skin was feeling. If that hug had lasted any longer, I would have certainly failed. Marcus was knowingly smirking behind her back—son of a motherless goat.
“Please to meet you, Esmeralda, Marcus didn't say a word about you, but seeing you for the first time I can understand why—you are a beautiful vision.”
She laughed and touched my arm. “He didn’t tell me that you are such a charmer; thank you, dear. No matter the woman’s age, she always wants to hear that she is attractive. Maybe you should teach mi corazón how to do that more often, he is getting forgetful in his old age.”
Marcus was not smiling anymore; it was more of a scowl, which made me smile. Take that, you bastard.
“OK, boys, this sun is killing me,” she said with another smile. “Why don't you help load my luggage so we can go home a lot sooner?”
And we did, there was a lot of it; so many Louis Vuitton suitcases, one would think there were for five different women, not one. One thing was for sure—the lady didn't travel light.
“So… mi corazón, you didn’t say anything about your wife, care to share?” I said while carrying one enormous steamer trunk.
“I did not tell you about her because I didn’t know you all that well. And another thing, don’t ever again call me mi corazón; coming from you it sounds so weird… disturbingly so.”
I gave him a Cheshire cat grin, still reading his emotions. For some reason, Marcus was a bit nervous.
We loaded the luggage and got in the car. Of course, Marcus had to tell her the whole story about what happened last night—a.k.a. Damien’s coup attempt. That was the reason for that uneasiness he radiated. He claimed he didn’t want to unnecessarily worry her before she got here, but the truth is that he was probably apprehensive of her reaction. As it happens, that was quite understandable.
I think the temperature lowered to freezing cold in a few seconds, or at least it seemed to me like it did. Not that one could see any change in her outward expression, but Esmeralda’s emotions became arctic. It was not like anything I ever sensed before, yet I knew one thing deep in my bones—in front of me was a true predator. There was a calculating mind behind the pure murdering intent, a razor-sharp intelligence that was controlling every aspect of her thinking.
“We will talk more about this… later,” was all she said to him, closing the matter for now. Then she somehow managed to set aside all that rage—completely.
I was taught how to compartmentalize my emotions during my training, it is a necessary skill when your job is basically to kill people. Without any false modesty—I think I am pretty good at it. Nevertheless, something was telling me that I was now in the presence of a true master.
Also, I had a feeling that those who were present last night at Marcus’s welcome party would not enjoy what she was planning for them… not one little bit.
Esmeralda turned to me and gave a slow, respectful nod, “Thank you again, Adam.”
The weight of those simple words was almost tangible. She was feeling a great amount of gratitude, underlined by a sense of profound debt.
Before I could wave the entire episode as if it was nothing, Marcus started telling her what happened to me this morning. After explaining about the help, she at first giggled, and then laughed and hiccupped simultaneously… oh, the shame.
We spent the rest of the day in each other’s company; Esmeralda was a chatterbox, you just needed small prompts and she would talk your ear off. But she didn’t talk nonsense or about inconsequential things. Everything she said had a bit of knowledge to impart, instructions that were quite useful in this new existence of mine.
For one thing, she was much older than Marcus was, and far more powerful. She confirmed that she was the one that turned him, it was that or letting him die. At the time, there were no antibiotics; semi-serious illnesses that we easily cure today were often fatal: and she was already in love with him. A young man who sacrificed everything to help strangers, so she couldn’t let him die.
Now, vampires come in two varieties, made and true-born. Made are those that turn after being infected with the virus that causes that particular affliction. Unfortunately, there is a catch. Not everyone can survive the ordeal. There were far more vampire wannabes occupying graves than those that managed to change. Considering the odds of being turned when bitten, I am surprised that anyone that is not facing immediate death would ever try to become a creature of the night. The failed turning is apparently one of the most unpleasant ways to die.
Then again, people are going to Las Vegas every year with hopes of winning the big one, even knowing that the odds favor the house and that they are more likely to lose their shirts. Hope springs eternal, I guess. When you think that the prize of becoming a vampire is immortality, no wonder so many would roll the dice—whatever the cost.
The true-born are made in a more traditional way. Mama vampire and Papa vampire make it in a night of passion, and months later, a baby vampire is born. However, it is not as easy as it is with humans. Conceiving a child for them is extremely difficult, and it does not happen that often. When it does, there is a high risk that there will be a miscarriage. Esmeralda and Marcus have been trying for hundreds of years and she had two miscarriages over the centuries, but no baby. It was a painful subject for them, yet they shared it with me.
Marcus sat beside her and held her in his arms. She did not cry, but there was sadness as deep as the sea in her soul, I could feel it. She wanted a child of her own so much, the desire was as strong as anything I ever felt with this new sense of mine.
Despite that, she was a very positive person, quickly finding something else to talk about. Oh, and she was a founder and the true leader of this clan before she gave the reins to Marcus some fifty years ago. She got sick and tired of all politicking that was constantly needed and wanted to spend some time on a few more rewarding endeavors.
If Damien somehow managed to kill Marcus, his reign would have been a short one. I got a feeling that she could have singlehandedly taken all the traitors in that room, and then rip their heads off. Not someone you want for an enemy.
When we were talking about the consequences of last night's events, there was again that ice-cold feeling in her emotions. The best I could describe it is as cold as ice and dark as that river I was traveling through. I made a firm promise never to get on this woman's bad side; it could prove to be fatal.
I left them alone in the afternoon; they have not seen each other for a long time and needed some privacy. When Marcus went away on his hunting mission, Esmeralda decided to take a trip too.
it seems that everybody starts bothering her with this or that when she is in New York City, so she often goes to check on charity missions that they are financing all over the world.
Bearing in mind all that happened last night, some things were about to change in the near future. I bet that the politicking and scheming, a few of the clan members so enjoyed, was going to become a thing of the past, and more medieval rules would be enacted.
Another thing that I found amazing was that while she worried that Marcus was away for so long in the Amazon, they shared some kind of vampire mates bond so she would have immediately known if he had died.
Being apart for so long—they had some intimate catching up to do.
I borrowed one of the many cars in the garage and drove around New York City. Then I stopped for a snack and coffee, just sitting there watching people around me. Trying to regain that fading sense of belonging to the human race, but it escaped me.
So many things were different, I was feeling out of place. In a way, I was a time traveler; skipping a decade and now having to accustom myself to a changed world. Worst of all, I think I have lost my sense of purpose; I didn’t know who I was anymore.
I felt like a fish out of the water, everything was so strange to me. This was, and at the same time wasn’t, the world I left when I went into that pyramid. Oh, everything was familiar, after all, ten years is not such a long stretch of time, but there were a million subtle differences everywhere I looked. From the fashion to technology that everyone was carrying around; I swear the teenagers these days don’t even watch where they are going, they stare at their phones like there is an answer to all worldly questions on that small screen. It is somewhat sad.
On top of everything else, it sounded to me as if popular music has become much edgier, impersonal, lewd, and angry. The number of expletives in a few of the hit songs I’ve heard was mind-blowing. Were they competing who could evoke the greatest shock value in those listening to them? As far as could see, everyone had become pretty much desensitized to it all; the same went for the amount of easily accessible porn. A strange new world indeed.
From time to time I could sense people that were not human, other supernaturals living in the city. It was an instinctual thing I did without any conscious effort on my part. I don’t think any supernatural could escape my notice in close proximity. Interestingly enough, they didn’t notice me, or at least not one showed it so far.
I left the small coffee shop and returned back to the estate. I would need to make some adjustments just to live in this time; not something I looked forward to.
I was just in time for dinner.
Esmeralda was a lady of the house and demanded that we all dress up fancy for the meal. A pressed suit was waiting on my bed, so it was not a bother… it even looked good on me.
The dinner that followed was like one of those you see in the English period dramas; several courses, different wines with every dish. I tried to be as refined as possible, which means I never used the right fork or a spoon. I never understood why you need more than one… rich people.
It would have been a much more relaxed meal if the servants were not so stiff around me. The emotions they were transmitting were not exactly cheerful… it was getting rather annoying. The girl who served coffee managed not to spill a drop, but the cup was rattling in her hand. She was feeling such an overwhelming sense of terror I felt uncomfortable for her. Oh, God… I hope she doesn’t pee herself.
What’s the matter with these people? They are supposed to be vampires, cold and scary, not one step away from a nervous breakdown.
Marcus just commented, “I'm sorry my love, he ruined them,” and smiled angelically at me.
I bowed my head, praying that we will simply order Pizza for the next meal we have together—this was no way to enjoy the food.
Comments
Vyktor
Seem she didn't age in 10 year of coma, but his social skills died... 😂
