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BACK TO FRASER'S FRACTURED FICTION Adventures in Decorating, part 6by A. Fraser and j. Hontz
© Copyright 2005 A. Fraser and J. Hontz. All rights reserved. In a small private residence in the Faubourg St.-Germain: _________________________ "I killed two men today, Jean," Genevieve said, turning away from his tenative amourous advances and looking out the window. Dawn was not very far off now. The other Dawn, her cat Aurore, brushed up against her legs, complaining about having been taken from her familiar home, dumped hurriedly here at Jean's house, and abandoned. Jean looked at her, or, rather, at the back of her head. She was as tense as a bowstring. He sighed. They only had perhaps an hour before the break of day sent them both into the unwakeable sleep of the vampire; it did not look as if that hour was to be filled with romance. "You said they had weapons," he pointed out, keeping his tone reasonable. "You had no choice." That was what she had told Adele; there had been no choice. "The same sort of monks attacked Julian, Mitch, Adele, and those at the hotel," she said. "And none of those monks were killed. To kill is the mark of a savage; it goes against everything I stand for, everything I teach my own children." By "children", she meant her fledglings and followers, the vampires she had made or who chose to listen to her teachings. "If I had been there..." he began. "We would probably have been having sex, and the monks would have staked us both in bed," Genevieve finished for him, wryly. "Genevieve," Jean tried, yet again, an old argument. "You should not be living way out there in the Loire alone in that old castle." Her eyes flashed. He was treading on dangerous ground. "I am not some helpless medieval maiden to be protected, Jean. I am a vampire. A master vampire." "It is not good even for a master vampire to be alone," he said, refusing to back down from her. "And how many times have we tried living together, Jean?" she asked, steel in her voice. "One hundred and forty-seven," he replied promptly. "And one-half. Remember that time you..." "And has it ever worked? For longer than a year or two?" "No," he admitted. "And besides, I am not alone. I have Aurore, and the little cousins, and my children visit me often." "A cat, two useless creatures, and not often enough." It was impossible to stay angry with Jean. She was determined to give it a good try, though. Especially after his behaviour earlier. "The little cousins are not useless." "No? Where were they, then, when you found your castle door broken open, and two strangers in your bedroom?" Genevieve paused. That was a good question. She hadn't thought of it at the time, and so much had happened since. "Oh, Jean," she said, all the fight draining out of her. "You don't suppose those monks did something to Elrich and Jared?" The little cousins, Elrich and Jared, were ghouls. They had been Claude's servants, and Genevieve had more or less inherited them along with the chateau, the winery, and dominion of the vampires of France. "You cannot drive back home tonight," said Jean firmly. "If they are dead, then nothing you can do can help them. If they are injured, they heal quickly." "I swore to Claude I would look after them," she sighed. She touched the ring on its chain, the ring that had caused all this to begin with. Jean's face showed nothing of what he was thinking, which was unusual for him. "You still miss him," he said. She turned, her eyes meeting his. "I cannot deny it," she replied. "He is gone, Genevieve. Ashes and gone." "Do you think I don't know that?" Self-preservation made Jean clamp his mouth shut on his answer. A rogue he was, a philanderer, a drinker, a gambler... but not a fool. Not even for her. "You should wear slacks more often," he said gruffly. "You are very sexy in them." The non-sequitor made her laugh. "You never give up, do you?" she asked. He shrugged. "Have some wine with me, at least," he said, "and we shall toast an end to this dreadful night." "Is it Chateau de Monet?" she teased. "Would I serve anything else?" She accepted a glass from him, and let him sit next to her, arm around her still-tense shoulders. "You cannot bring back the dead, Genevieve," he said softly, and she was not entirely sure if he meant the monks she had killed, or Claude. _________ In a bedroom in Julian's hotel: Josh finished his bedtime preparations in the bathroom and came back into the bedroom to find Gideon lying staring up at the ceiling. "Don't worry so much," Josh said, sitting down beside his hubby. "Jean's got some strong defences on that house; they'll be fine." "It's not that I'm thinking about," Gideon replied, not looking at Josh. "Hmmm," said Josh (it was catching.) "It's really bothering you, isn't it?" "What is?" "The idea that Genevieve might have sex with Julian." Gideon shuddered and muttered something. It sounded like "sarong", but Josh knew what he'd actually said. "What," he challenged, "is wrong about it?" "It just is." "Gideon," Joshua sighed. "I know you love Genevieve. I do, too. But I don't idolize her. Don't try to turn her into a saint. She's an incredibly attractive woman, and has a very dominant personality. Moth to flame there, I'd say. Both ways. Why shouldn't she have a little fun if she wants to?" "She has Jean." A snort escaped Josh. "Oh, right, and _he's_ faithful? Or do you honestly believe it's okay for a man to sleep around as much as he wants, but not a woman? If you go all Puritan on me, I'll make you sleep in the bathtub." "But Julian sleeps with men, too." Gideon knew he was running out of legitimate arguments. Actually, he hadn't had one in the first place. "So? What do you think he's going to do, stake her? She can take care of herself." Josh shook his head. "You just don't pick up on nuances, do you? Remember what she said about the big bed in the chateau?" "Yes." "That was Gen's way of saying that if they do have sex, it will be her place, on her terms. She's no fool." A sigh. Silence for a few moments. "You're right. I have no right to pass judgement on anyone else's private life." "Damn straight." Josh grinned. "Unlike us." Despite himself and the worry that was underlying his discomfort, Gideon found himself smiling. "I wouldn't have things any other way," he said. "Now, are you joining me here, or is it the bathtub?" ---------------------- In the common room of the same suite: Mitch grunted as he unceremoniously dumped Julian's body onto the couch. He'd toted the mage up from the car. The fact the mage had been singing, "God Save the Queen" most of the way, at the top of his lungs, hadn't endeared him or anyone with him to the Parisians in the hotel, although there were a few folks who'd jumped to attention out of pure reflex. There were ex-pat Brits everywhere. Adele, following along with Mitch had been saying, pleasantly enough to everyone who looked angry, "Too much to drink, sorry!" Once Julian was on the couch Adele bent over him. Mabel, coming out from one of the bedrooms with a frying pan in her hand (thank all the gods she'd put away the firearm) bent to look at the mage too. Julian's eyes were obviously not working in sync. "What happened?" Mabel asked. It was obvious she felt slighted to have missed all the fun. "He fell off a roof," Adele explained. Mabel nodded. "Not that he needed to land on his head to claim insanity." "Well, we need him to get better!" Adele said, tears beginning to well up in her eyes. Mitch patted her awkwardly on the shoulder. "Hey, don't cry. You know Julian. He'll be fine. Come on, lets go meet Spence. He was gonna order us drinks in the bar." "It's almost dawn," Adele commented. "So?" Mitch replied. "We'll order you a Bloody Mary. Come on. Mabel will look after Julian." "Yes, child. Go. I'll see to him," Mabel said, leaning closer. "Beauty sat bathing by a spring Where fairest shades did hide her; The winds blew calm, the birds did sing, The cool streams ran beside her. My wanton thoughts enticed .." Julian declaimed grasping Mabel's hand to his breast. "Oh, go on now," Mabel said giggling. It wasn't clear if she meant Adele and Mitch or Julian. Mitch grabbed Adele's hand and tugged her toward the door. "Wait, where's the monk?" Adele asked. "The older one." Fred was still, presumably, tied to a bed. "In the bathtub," replied Mabel. "Is he alive?" Adele felt compelled to ask. Mabel snorted. "His eyes aren't working in sync either." "Ah, okay, Mitch, let's go. We need to talk strategy." "You need to get some sleep," Mabel snorted as the two young people all but ran out of the room. "Together." As enticing as that suggestion was, they did not heed it, but ran to meet Spencer in the bar. Despite the late (or early) hour, they were able to obtain drinks. This was France, after all. Spencer seemed to be metamorphasizing into a different personality. He had floor plans of the George, and had written down what he remembered of Jean's report on the armed guards. For two euros, he probably would have borrowed Mabel's Uzi. "Jean thinks they have Gabrielle on the first or second floor," he said without preamble when the others joined him. "It makes sense--they would want to be able to get her out quickly, if need be. So we should be able to get her out quickly, too." "Adele, can you find her? I mean pinpoint her exact location?" Spencer asked. Adele nodded. "Sure. If I can get fairly close to her, I mean." "How close is close?" Spence asked with a frown. "Let me see that floor plan." Adele studied it, Mitch looking over her shoulder. "If I can get here," Adele was pointing to the main lobby, I ought to be able to figure out which wing she's in. Then if I head in her general direction I'll be able to locate her more precisely." Spencer grinned. "Wanna play dress up?" "Huh?" Adele asked. "Okay, here's what I'm thinking. You go in dressed as a maid. Here's the laundry. I figure me or Mitch can manage to get our hands on one clean uniform. You go in. Mitch and I stand ready when you tell us exactly where she is. Mitch is the agile one of us, not to mention a lot stronger than me. So we'll send him in to get the attention of the guards, while I sneak in through the balcony window." Adele frowned. "And what, I'm supposed to sit around and look pretty?" "You always look pretty," Mitch offered, possibly to forestall any argument. "Yeah, you do," Spencer added, apparently surprised to note it. "No, we need you to get her out of there while Mitch and I distract them. I figure you dressed as a maid will go unnoticed and you can get to her while we're distracting them. I also figure we need to do this when Armando is expecting to meet Julian. He'll be distracted and maybe have his monks stationed to guard him rather than focused here. What do you think?" Spence added, looking from Adele to Mitch and back again. Mitch frowned. "Won't they know who all the maids are?" he asked. "It's a big hotel, Armando can't possibly have learned all the staff off by heart; and even if he has, he can't have alerted the guards to them all." Spencer tapped the floor plans. "Adele could be a relief maid, sent in because her cousin or sister or aunt or something is sick." "Nobody really looks at maids anyway," said Adele, warming up to the idea. "It's you two who will be in danger; those guards are armed." "Spencer's the one in real danger, then," Mitch grunted. To his surprise, Adele smacked him one. "Wake up, Gaylord," she snorted. "They probably have silver weapons by now." "Oh." "Yes, but will they risk shooting at us and getting the gendarmes in on this?" Spencer looked thoughtful. "I wonder what story they've told the hotel staff to explain the armed guards and the fact they have a hostage." Mitch licked his lips, and surreptitiously rubbed his butt. Adele packed quite a wallop for a slim girl. "Maybe we could get flak jackets?" he ventured. He didn't like the idea of silver bullets. Adele, on the other hand was thinking. "How would they explain a hostage. They've probably claimed to be guards of some politician worried about assassination. They won't be letting maids into the rooms. That way they don't have to explain her. But they surely can't have the entire hallway blocked off. Surely I can get close". Spencer suddenly looked worried. Julian would do evil things to him if Adele got hurt. He did _not_ want to think about what. It wouldn't involve sex though, that was for sure. Frankly he'd prefer the sex to torture or painful removal of body parts. But then maybe that was just him. "Adele," he began. "Maybe it would be better.." "Don't even think about it. You are not going to go all protective male on me. It's going to take all of us to get Gabrielle out of there. Especially when Mitch is suddenly worried about silver bullets." Then she whirled on Mitch. "Spencer and I are susceptible to all bullets. We're going in there. And without flack jackets." She raised an eyebrow at the suddenly alarmed part-time werewolf. |
