Four, p.21
Four, page 21
“Sad but true. One kiss is usually enough to have them reeling. I’ve tried a few second dates, but they always end up just like the first ones.”
“That is kind of sad,” Georgia said. “So all you’ve ever had to do is focus on a good set of pickup lines. You never really get to know anyone, do you?”
“Oh, I get to know them, but they never really get to know me.”
Georgia munched the rest of her first course in silence. She watched Stefano slurp down his drink with morbid curiosity. Through the glass she could just see the flickering motion of two tiny red tendrils slipping and sliding from the tips of his fangs to the bottom of the plasma.
“I know, they are particularly long,” he said with a little wink. “But it’s not the size of a man’s fangs, it’s how he uses them that matters.”
“I just hadn’t ever seen them. Does Geoffrey—”
Stefano shook his head. “Without the protection of enamel, fangs tend to retract or get torn. I think Gingersnaps lost his last one somewhere around 1988. Now he’s stuck with syringes and sipping cups.”
“So that’s when he lost them,” Georgia said softly. “And you’re basically a bunch of bacteria making a man into a mosquito.”
“You have quite the perspective on our kind, Miss Sutherland,” Stefano said as he tipped his glass to her. “I must say it’s refreshing.”
“Let me guess—you usually get someone fawning and hoping that you’ll drink her blood and she’ll become immortal. They fantasize about you sinking your fangs in their neck and running your cold hands down their spine until they shudder. After all, you can pull the vampire card, can’t you? Unlike most of them, you have the industrial-strength amnesia spit, right?”
“As of late I have them ask if I sparkle in the sun and only drink animal blood,” he sighed. “Or they want me to wear nothing but bondage gear. I must say that Goths are easy prey.”
“I bet they are. That’s what you were looking for to help Mr. Lambley, an easy victim that you could just slip your Mickey to, but, surprise, you ended up with my crisscrossed cell action and me.”
“You look disgusted.”
“Maybe I’m just disappointed. I mean, aren’t you Jaegers supposed to be the great hunters? You’re picking off the wounded gazelles.”
“That was just for my friend. He needs the help.”
“Yes, he needs help. He needs someone not to coddle him, to make him go out and face the world, not shelter him from it. I can see the way you look at him. You pity him.”
“And you don’t?”
Georgia paused slightly too long. Long enough to be interrupted by a salad of goat’s cheese, pistachio, and beets. Stefano smiled triumphantly from across the table. Instead of firing right back, she took the time to slowly slice and savor each and every morsel of the bright red salad. Once she had scooped up and devoured the last drops of the blood-orange dressing, she dabbed the napkin to her mouth and smiled. “I see a theme in our dinner,” she said. “And you’re right, I did pity Mr. Lambley at first, but he’s trying—”
“Very trying,” Stefano interjected.
“He’s trying to be better.”
“And you think I am coddling him? You do realize that I’m the one that sent him that invitation? I was afraid if he didn’t join any society event soon that he might fully descend into the withering, and despite what you might think about me, sweetheart, he is my friend, and I don’t want that to happen.”
For the first time since Georgia had ever spoken to Stefano, a sincere burn replaced the sparkle in his puppyish eyes. He gripped his fork so hard that the handle actually curved.
“You really are his friend,” Georgia acquiesced.
“And you really look out for him,” he said.
“So, what is the withering?”
He waited for the waiter to change out the plates once more. As Ren slipped back to refill Stefano’s glass, the vampire grabbed his servant’s wrist. “Jioruja-chan ni nan to itta?” he snapped.
“Nandesuka?” Ren said.
“Osoi-Shi o setsumei shimashita ka?”
“Iie, kyūketsuki-sama,” Ren said. “Naze desuka?”
“I’m still here, by the way. Don’t make me break out the translator on my phone,” Georgia threatened from behind her plate of deconstructed ratatouille. Stefano raised his hand and then whispered in his servant’s ear. Ren bowed quickly and muttered something that could only be an apology in Japanese.
Once he had disappeared back to wherever he seemed to like to hide during dinner service, Stefano said apologetically, “I thought my servant was teaching you. I guess he’s been omitting a few things.”
“Usually when it’s something called ‘the withering,’ there isn’t really a good point in the conversation to bring it up,” she said. “Is it some kind of slow death?”
“In Japanese it’s known as Osoi-Shi, literally ‘slow death.’ It’s what happens when you stop being able to heal and maintain your human shell. Year after year you fall apart, aging and withering just as any mortal man would. At some point your fangs fall out and you can’t feed. If you don’t fight back, then it is a one-way ticket to oblivion. All the billions of other tiny creatures that want to feast on the suit of meat you wear start to win, and eventually you just disintegrate. I’m told it’s exceptionally painful in the end.”
Georgia dropped her fork. “So Mr. Lambley is . . . ?”
Stefano stared off into the bay. “Usually once a vampire loses his fangs, he only has a few decades left. The modern obsession with cleanliness and vaccines has made it easier to survive longer. There is less competition, so to speak, but I must confess, until recently, I thought I was going to have to say good-bye to my best friend sooner rather than later. My only hope is that he’s a Pendragon and not like most of our kind.”
“All the families are different. I do know that.”
“The only vampire ever known to recover from the withering was Arthur Pendragon. Yeah, all that Grail and King Arthur mythology has a little bit of truth to it—who knew? The Pendragons might not be as strong as the other clans, but they are a scrappy lot. It was a terrible shame that their founder managed to cheat the worst death our kind can have and beat the unbeatable, only to be killed by his own offspring. Talk about irony,” Stefano sighed. “I just hoped it ran in the family.”
“How do we help him? How do you beat this?” Georgia asked.
“Well, the only one who ever has beaten it is, unfortunately, quite dead, so I have to work on the same rumors that everyone else has, but the general consensus is that the withering is tied to one’s will to live. If you can restore that, the body regenerates. I’ve already seen the signs.”
“What signs?”
“Have you had to trim his nails? Cut his hair?”
“Yeah, and it’s not the most pleasant thing in the world. He hates to sit still.”
“He hadn’t needed his nails clipped for at least a year before you came along,” Stefano said with delight. “I think he might be fighting back. I don’t know what you are doing, but it’s working.”
“Well, I can only imagine that staying in one dark dirty little house with only soap operas to keep you company wouldn’t give you much reason to live. His old servant died after serving him for decades, and he was losing his teeth, right? I bet he was just shutting himself away.”
“Of course he was, but he would never tell us why—not me, not Mina, not even Minerva, and they used to be as thick as thieves.”
“You mean your lovely sister was friends with Mr. Lambley too?” Georgia asked with a bit of venom in her voice.
“Oh, not the kind of friends with benefits. Minerva can be abrasive, but she was always fascinated by the Pendragons, as I was. The two of them would hunt together, not for the normal prey, but for rare books and pieces of art. I don’t think they even liked each other, but they could go on and on for years about something Baroque or a limited-edition Bible print. I once had to hide for six months in a monastery outside Florence where they forbade talking, just so the two of them couldn’t babble any more around me. Then when he lost his first fang, it was suddenly silent, and I must admit I even missed it, but Minerva says she doesn’t know what happened either.”
“And you believe her?”
“Oh, my sister is the biggest bitch in Western Europe. She’s ruthless, heartless, and prone to violence—also she has a shocking obsession with oral sex—but she’s no liar,” Stefano said. “Whatever broke him is his little secret.”
“It must have been terrible. He’s never said anything to me either, if that’s what you’re looking for,” Georgia said softly.
The two of them picked away at their respective food in silence for a few long drawn-out minutes. The vampire watched her closely as the night breeze toyed with her hair and her bright eyes stared off into the far horizon.
“I just want to get to know you, and I’d very much like for you to get to know me, sweetheart. Is that too much to ask?” Stefano finally said.
Georgia turned her attention back to the man across the table. “You’ve never really had a girl to talk to, have you?” she asked.
“I’m desperate for an education beyond banter. Will you help me, as you’ve helped my dear friend? Will you consider going on a second date with me?”
“Maybe, but don’t you think we should focus on fixing Mr. Lambley first?”
“Well, I don’t think pitying him and acting like he is dying has worked in the past,” Stefano said. “So I wouldn’t do anything different than what you are doing. After all, it takes decades to die as one of our kind, it might take just as long to heal.”
“Well, I suppose I might be convinced to see you one more time—especially if this meal ends in something chocolaty . . .”
“So you said you’d see him again?” Gail gushed.
“Well, the last course was a seven-layer chocolate and chili cake with cinnamon ice cream, so I felt honor-bound to see him at least one more time.”
“And Mr. Lambley, I assume—”
“Well, you know what assuming does,” Georgia said with a little wink. “But I can assure you that Mr. Lambley is recovering slowly. But now you see why it’s so important that he has an assistant, don’t you? I know you are a nurse, but do you believe in the whole mind-body-spirit thing?”
“Well, I don’t know enough about vampires to really comment,” Gail said.
“If you let yourself just be alone and miserable, you don’t get any better. I want to make sure that Mr. Lambley has fresh life and energy in the house. He eats well now, gets out and about, and has someone to talk to. Vampires are so obsessive over things that I really think it’s a case of mind over matter. I want to make certain that whoever follows me will keep him on the same path.”
“Oh, of course,” Gail said, suddenly back into interview mode. “I always do my best to take care of people. Chronic care and hospice was my thing. Stefano said it would take him years to recover, right, so we are talking about long-term care?”
“I see that we understand each other.”
“So, did you ever find out what made him sick?”
“Mr. Lambley has his secrets, and I respect them. If he ever wants to tell you or anyone else what happened, then that is his choice. I did, though, learn a lot from Ren at our Monday night breakfasts. Things like how pig or human blood is best, or that you need to give a vampire a balanced diet of types for optimum nutrition, no matter how much they fuss and complain.”
“Night breakfasts?”
“Well, when work starts at sunset, everything gets flipped around. Ren and I would always meet up at Little Jiro’s Sushi Hut a few hours before dark. It’s a hole-in-the-wall with amazing miso soup, and the chef there always gave me extra cucumber in my rolls, but that’s not really important, is it?”
“Is it?” Gail asked.
“Breakfast was when Ren helped me set up the app and my calendar. This phone might not look like much, but it’s my lifeline. I have one program just to track Mr. Lambley’s steps each day. If he doesn’t get close to ten thousand, it will warn you, and you can take him for a walk. He likes the Common in the warm months and the CambridgeSide Mall when it snows. Even though vampires aren’t bothered by the cold, he absolutely hates getting his feet damp. I once had him throw a hissy and lock himself in his room because I let him land in a particularly nasty puddle.”
Gail leaned forward again, her cheeks obviously flushed. “But you have to tell me,” she insisted.
“Tell you what?”
“What was your second date?”
“Well, the second date was expensive dinner again, and then he took me on a helicopter ride over the city. We had box seats for the opera and for any show we wanted, and I even got to slip into a fancy charity thing with an extravagant open bar and waiters who passed around lollipops frozen with liquid nitrogen. The best time, though, was when we went to a Boston classic film series. Hearing him talk about when Casablanca was in theaters was an amazing experience.”
“Oh wow, those sound great.”
“Oh, those were just the appetizers. Soon he decided to up the ante . . .”
“Georgia, am I getting time with Nicki?” Mr. Lambley asked anxiously as he saw his assistant primping in the mirror in a brand-new minidress.
“Nicolette is on tour in Denver and San Francisco this week. You are going to have to get dressed and join me for a change.”
The vampire pouted as he looked down at his new emerald green smoking jacket sent right from India with his name embroidered on the lapel. Mina had spared no expense and mercifully provided several pairs of silk drawstring lounge pants as well, so Georgia had been spared surprises on the landing for nearly a month—save the one time he simply had to run out and tell her that someone named Blake had hooked back up with his ex-wife Marissa after she recovered from a coma.
“Not a shower again. I’ve had one this week,” he whined.
“Nothing that drastic. You just need to put on a shirt and pants to get to the car coming for us. Ren says that Stefano has a surprise for us both, and he’s going to keep you while I go out with Captain Eurotrash.”
“Stefano’s boy isn’t nearly as fun,” Geoffrey pouted. “Last time he made me drink Irish.”
“There aren’t that many sources of cheap, clean human blood available, and after that hissy you made last time, well, let’s just say I had to learn enough Cambodian to write a formal apology to Mrs. Q, as well as get her a live duck.”
“How was I supposed to know that she’d be offended?” the vampire sniffed.
“Mr. Lambley, you called her a tasteless slut,” Georgia sighed.
“Oh, was that what that meant? I meant to say that the blood she got me was tasteless.”
“And this is why I had to clean your phone again. You can’t just trust any random translation programs—” She was cut off by the doorbell. “You. Shirt. Now! I don’t care if you keep on the comfy pants if it will keep you quiet.”
She fussed one last time in the mirror and applied a fresh coat of flavored lip gloss on her already-shining lips. Once she was sure her hair was perfectly imperfect and her mascara wasn’t clumped, she bounded down the stars to see a familiar face in a familiar black suit.
“Why do you ring the bell when you have a key?” she asked as she yanked open the door.
Ren responded with his usual little bow. “I wouldn’t want to just barge in when I know you are home and getting ready,” he said.
“You were afraid that Mr. Lambley wouldn’t be in shorts again, weren’t you?” she teased. “Mina sent a care package from her latest trip. It’s safe. I swear.”
Ren’s eyes darted all over her low neckline and short hemline, pausing at the twin highlights on the tour for slightly too long. “Mostly I wanted to be respectful of you. I would hate to barge in while you were still getting dressed.”
“Oh, I bet you would,” she said with a little wink. “Sorry, I don’t have any animal print for you today.”
“The purple does look quite pretty against your pale skin though,” he said. “I don’t know why you don’t wear dark colors more often.”
She twirled around for him. “So, you like it?”
Ren cleared his throat. “I only meant that my master will be quite pleased, I’m sure,” he said softly. “I hope you enjoy your evening.”
“So, what’s this big surprise?” she asked.
“By very definition, a surprise is not revealed early,” Ren said. “And it seems that your boss is as ready as he’ll ever be.”
Georgia had to shake her head as Mr. Lambley padded downstairs with his belly poking out where his buttons didn’t quite meet the right buttonholes. She could clearly make out one blue sock and one black peeking over his loafers, and his pants were half-tucked into each shoe. In his left hand, he carried a beach bag stuffed with his smoking jacket, some cards, and a pair of knitting needles, while in his right he had a crusty plastic mug.
Georgia hopped over and made quick work of the chaos, handing the mug gingerly to Ren while fixing the shirt. “Oh, you’re making a new scarf?” she asked sweetly. “I hope you picked up acrylic yarn this time instead of the cotton stuff.”
Geoffrey sighed as he endured having his hair finger combed. “I know I might see Stefano, my dear. I’m not that addled yet,” he sniffed.
Ren returned with a travel mug. “It’s pig, don’t worry,” he assured his vampiric companion. “I even added a twist of lemon since I hear you’ve been doing so well this week. Now, if you will both follow me, my master is waiting.”
Georgia and Mr. Lambley followed Ren out into the warm summer night. An honest-to-goodness limousine awaited them, complete with tinted windows and a driver in a jaunty hat. As Georgia slipped onto the devilishly soft leather seats, a card with her name in gold letters was waiting for her.
As the vampire plopped beside her, he immediately started poking in the mini-fridge in the back. He squealed as he saw both bottles of wine and dark bottles marked with type B and type O. Ren eased into the seat across from them, tapping furiously on his phone. He nodded deferentially to Mr. Lambley. “My apologies, sir. I was just finalizing the arrangements.”
