NightFall: Book One: Bloodlust Is the Cure for the Immortal Soul (20 page)

“The author is none other than my transformer.” Saldivar stood up to face Van.

“Why is Zane doing this? Why does he wish to torment you so? And why use this tactic?” Van walked to Saldivar and placed a hand on his shoulder. “What makes him hate you with so much voracity?”

Saldivar remained silent then spoke in a hushed voice. “I cannot tell you right now because I hardly understand it myself. Please do not ask me to explain right now the things I need to understand.”

Van gritted his teeth in frustration.
“Why not, Saldivar?
Why don’t you trust me enough to explain this eight hundred year vendetta? Why can’t I help you? You helped me centuries ago. Do you know how many regrets have stacked up by now? Why is it you let no one help you? You don’t always have to take on the role of protector?” Van tapped his own chest harshly. “When is it
my
turn to aid you?”

A deep and resonate sigh escaped Saldivar’s lips. “You don’t know what you ask, Van. You do not know what Zane is capable of. And yet you’re willing to meet your doom head on, knowing what the outcome may be. You need to be prepared. Believe me when I tell you, until I am sure of it all.” He walked over to the waste basket and grabbed the crumpled poem. “I
do
trust you. But if I tell you now, even though I know little, knowing you, you’ll still go off…….how do they say?–—ah!–-half cocked. I will tell you
everything in due time. I know Zane well enough to know he is going to lay low. He will not strike now. It would be too easy, yes, but very clumsy of him to do anything at this time. I know he loves a challenge and he is never clumsy. He has other things in store. He’ll work very meticulously. He has a certain methodical way of doing things before he tries to kill me. I guess that whatever it is, he wants me to take it to my grave and beyond. And to this day, I don’t know exactly what it is.” Saldivar pocketed the ball of paper. “Please. Do not harry yourself. Let us talk of happier things.” He pointed to a chair. “Tell me about Simone.”

*

Simone sat on the edge of her bed, explaining her wonderful night she had spent with Van. She told Indea a
bout walking through the Louvre, about
walking
along
on
the un
-
crowded sidewalks. Sipping
cafe au lait
and just talking of simple things.

Van had explained Bastille Day with such a fire and accuracy that it looked like he was reliving the day so long ago.

“He’s so fascinating, Indea. He’s intelligent, charming and sexy. I could get lost
in eyes that shine like his,”
Simone said breathlessly.

Indea took note of Simone’s demeanor and the way in which she told her about Van. “Well. Your first intentions of coming here were to satisfy your lust of a Frenchman. It’s changed. Not only lust swims in your eyes.” She studied Simone further. “No. Simple lust is shallow. You are not. You feel so
mething for this Van already,”
she ascertained.

Simone let Indea’s words sink in. She’s considered that there was more then lust going on when she’d first met Van. It was a connection she’d felt a lot deeper than your run-of-the-mill lust. Van was more than a mere fantasy. Sure, she couldn’t deny the attraction. The passion she’d experienced when their lips met. He was almost too good to be true. In the back of her mind, she could hear Mr. Brant’s philosophy on that matter: “If it’s too good to be true, it probably is.” For Van, however, this didn’t seem to be the case. He seemed to be the genuine article.

Which reminded her.
She made a mental note to get some writing done for her article she wanted to present to Mr. Brant.

“I
suppose you’re right, Indea,”
Simone said now. “I’ve only known him a day and already he’s the most decent human being I’ve ever met. I know I’m probably presuming more than I should but there’s something about him….he’s….different. I don’t know specifically what but I know that he is.” Simone clasped Indea’s hands. “Speaking of different, Saldivar is also going to Bastille Day and wants you to be his date. Van told me to give you Saldivar’s message. He was sorry he couldn’t see you sooner. Business took him away.”

Indea’s heart skipped a beat. She was finally going to see Saldivar. Once was definitely not sufficient. It wasn’t much of a meeting to begin with. He rescued her when she needed it. Comforted her, told her his name and vanished. She wasn’t desperate but she’d been aching to see him since that night.

Indea downplayed her excitement, even though inside she felt like a schoolgirl. “It
will
be great to see him again. We were never properly introduced. He seems to be a great guy as well as your Van. They are good friends. What you say of Van, I’m sure
he wouldn’t keep bad company,”
she theorized.

“They’ve been friends for a very long time
. Like you and me. From what
Van has told me, they can just a
bout read each other’s minds,”
Simone informed her as she got up and grabbed her hair brush and ran it through her red waves.

Indea propped up on the bed. “What’s the plan? Pick us up or meet us?”

Simone put the brush back down on the dresser. “They’re picking us
up.
Around seven-thirty or so.”

“Great. Bastille Day should be fun.”

“That’s right. Your parents go quite often to the event. You’ve even been a few time, haven’t you?”

“Yes.
But always with my parents.
I’ve never been with a date. Imagine. Seeing those glorious fireworks sparkle in the dark sky. Hand in ha
nd with that special someone,”
Indea related.

Simone saw a gleam set in Indea’s eyes. She knew Saldivar was part of that. Van made her do that as well.

Indea sat up on the bed. “It would be a perfect end
to Bastille Day if Saldivar
kiss
ed
me. And perhaps Van to kiss you, too?”

Simone made a noncommittal sound but said nothing. Indea would find out in three….two….one…..

“Unless……” Indea gasped. “Van’s already kissed you.” She didn’t ask and she didn’t wait for Simone to clarify. “He did! How was it? What was he like?”

Simone couldn’t stop the smile from growing on her face.
“Heaven.
I mean it. Heaven is the only way I can describe it. His lips were firm and soft at the same time. He definitely knew what he was doing and how to use those lips to his advantage. I know it seems this is all happening way too fast. But it just feels right. You know what I mean, Indea?
That feeling where everything is where it’s supposed to be.
What’s the word…….?”

“Fate?”
Indea filled in. Simone was usually Miss Dictionary. Describing Van’s kiss must have scrambled her mind just a little. Indea could understand. All Saldivar has to do was kiss her hand and she was tripping over her own tongue.

“Yes.
Fate.
Thanks, Indea.”

“You’re welcome. That must have been some kiss for you to sudde
nly get a case of word block,”
Indea pointed out, amused.

Simone chortled. “I know.
Strange, huh?”

“Very.” Indea’s brows knitted together in confusion. “You know? Things have been weird ever since we met Van and Saldivar.”

Simone nodded her agreement.
“Yeah.
You’re right. Kind of vexing, aren’t they? But then again, we
were
looking for a dark and mysterious man. Well, me more than you, I guess. I think we got what we asked for.”

“In spades,”
Indea put in. “I don’t mind
a bit of mystery, though. Do
you?”

“I don’t mind at all.” Simone yawned. “It’s been one heck of a day. I’m going to get up a little early tomorrow. I want to work on an article about my time in Paris. I’m going to turn in.”

“Sure. My parents are taking us on a picnic tomorrow for lunch. They want us to be ready by eleven.” Indea informed her.

“All right.
Good night.”

“Good night. Sweet dreams.”

*

The sun beamed warmly down on Simone’s upturned face. She inhaled the sweet breath of wind
as it
subtly wafted
through her hair.

“This is such a glorious day,”
Simone remarked. “And this food is sumptuous.” She scooped up a bit of herbed goat cheese and spread it on a crusty slice of baguette. She bit off a piece, savoring the tangy cheese as it melted on her tongue. She sipped on a fruity chardonnay, enjoying the mingling of flavors. She picked up a few white grapes
and popped them into her mouth, enjoying the sweet juice
as they burst
between her teeth.

Indea polished
off her third chocolate covered strawberry. “Oh, I know. I’ll never tire of this. It could spoil me for life.
M
ere
.
Mother.”
She turned to her mother.
“You know how to throw a fine spread. You should really consider restarting your catering business.”

Mrs. Sky smiled fondly at her only daughter.
“Oh, sweetie.
Thank you. But I really don’t know. It’s been a while since I had catered. I do love hosting elaborate parties, teas and the like.” She looked at her husband who was helping himself to a spoonful of caviar and smearing it on a toast point. “What do you think, Douglas? We
did
enjoy the catering business together.”

Douglas put a loving arm around his wife of thirty-three wonderful years. “I’ll support whatever you want to do. I have to say, though, you do come up with the most creative, tastiest recipes. I wouldn’t complain the slightest if you wanted to restart.” He patted his still firm belly. “My stomach would always be more than happy to test you creations. And I’m not saying that because you’re the love of my life. I
say it because it is the truth.”

Fredrica kissed her husband unabashedly. “Thank you, dear.”

Douglas smiled. “Who knows? It could be very well the crux in your career. You’ll be famous
,
my dear.”

Simone observed them without jealousy. She didn’t begrudge the Skys’ their happiness. It was great seeing a couple share their love of one another so openly. She wanted that. It was the one thing she craved most of all.

And with no motive, she thought of Van and
suddenly, it did seem possible
to have that with him
. He was magnetic and she was being pulled to him. Not that she was resisting. Okay,
sometimes she wanted to deny it; t
ried her best to deny it. Logic told her that she only knew him for a very short time. Told her it should be too soon to feel this way. It should.

But it didn’t.

Intuition said otherwise. For some reason, it spoke twice as loud as logic. As if it should be heard and heeded to instead. She was inclined to agree. So far, her intuition has never guided her astray. She relied on that far more than logic. Though, she did depend on logic to get her through her articles. Of course she had to use it then. That was a given. But this was matters of the heart. Sometimes, mind and heart vied for dominance. And all in all, it was up to her to choose a winner. And that was truly the toughest part.