The Vampire (THE VAMPIRE Book 1) (30 page)

His attention turned once again to the TV, as he put the pen back in his bag. Damn! Now his other favorite episode was over, and he’d missed most of that too.
I’ve been watching TV for over an hour and I haven’t seen anything!
He laughed. He ate half of the sandwich and part of an orange while he surfed TV channels for a while. One hundred channels and still nothing worth watching. Finally, the time arrived for Casablanca to start. He finished off the last of the tea and took several drinks of the root beer before he pulled the covers up around him and got comfortable, preparing to watch one of his favorite films. He was already thinking of his favorite lines: “You really despise me, don’t you, Rick?’ Peter Lorre’s character said to Bogart. “If I ever gave you any thought, I probably would,” Bogart replied. The last thing Jason saw before his eyes grew heavy and he fell off to sleep was the opening credits.

He was up and out the door by 10:00 a.m. He had checked his phone and the hall table for any word from Augere. None of course. He called Zavi once he arrived downtown—maybe they could meet for lunch?—and had to leave a message on her phone. There were no classes today. Where was she?

He made his way to the pen store where a man in his mid-forties or so, attired in a navy blue suit and presenting a somewhat snobbish demeanor, greeted him at the counter.

“I wonder if you can tell me anything about this pen.”

“Ah, yes.” The man took it from Jason’s hand, turning it over. “What did you need to know? Are you interested in selling it?”

“Not exactly. I just need to know something about it; if there is anything special about it.”

The man gave him a fleeting look of disdain. As if Jason, in particular, had no business being in possession of such a pen.

Then the man’s demeanor appeared to grow a little friendlier as he examined the pen more closely.

“It’s a Waterman 12.” He carefully took the pen apart. “Iridium tipped, 18 karat gold nib. Sterling silver overlay barrel, from the look of it. Eyedropper filling reservoir.” He felt the heft of it, then poised as if to write with it. “Quite a nice writing instrument. I should love to dip it. Is it still in use?”

“Uhm, yes.”

He called out to someone at the next counter, “Andrew, you must come and see this.”

Andrew joined them, giving Jason a disapproving look from head to toe, before taking a glance at the pen. Then he immediately took hold of it. “Excellent! You don’t see many of these still in use. Jeff! Hey, Jeff, come here and have a look at this,” he called out toward a back room. A third man joined the first two.

Jeff made the appropriate “ah” sounds. “And it’s still in use!” the first man said to him. “I have never actually held one of these particular pens before. May I try it out? I should love to have a go with it.”

“Oh, yes, I agree. We definitely should. I’ll bring us some ink.”

“Do you mind? If we try it out?” The first two finally thought to ask Jason.

“I guess it’s okay. Can you tell me a little more about it though?”

“Well, the Waterman patent goes back to 1884. I would say this particular pen came from England or France… Maybe sometime around say 1900 to 1907; thereabouts.”

“This—pen?” Jason looked at it. “Is that old?”

“Oh, yes. This pen, I would guess, is approximately one hundred years old at least, if not older.”

“And what kind of value would you say it had?”

“I could get a specific estimate, if you want. Just off the top of my head though, based on some pens made after this one, and not in as good condition as this, I would say this one could go for five, or six even, with no problem.”

“Dollars?” Jason wondered. No, it had to be worth more than that. “Five or six—hundred?” Jason asked him in surprise. The disdainful look briefly returned to the man’s face.
What is it with this fountain pen snobbery?
Jason’s face wore a bemused expression.

“This pen could fetch six thousand dollars. Easily.”

Jason’s expression melted into a stunned look.

The third man had now returned with ink. “It is so rare one gets to write with a 100-year-old pen,” one of the men stated, nearly giddy with excitement. Jason stared uncomfortably at the instrument of their intense interest. Having just acquired the knowledge of its considerable value, he watched nervously as the three men in turn passed around, fondled, and generally had their way with Augere’s pen.

After he left the pen shop, Jason became focused on keeping Augere’s 100-year-old plus, $6,000 pen safe. Bad enough Augere had lost one thing he treasured, without losing this too.

He browsed a bookstore downtown while hoping to hear from Zavi. He selected some magazines: High Fructose, Rue Morgue, MAD and two travel magazines, all of which he purchased to read while he waited in a coffee shop for her to call. He didn’t have to wait long. She had been getting her hair done nearby and told him she would be glad to meet with him for a late lunch.

He glanced up as she approached, her leather purse twirling and swinging in her hand as she strided toward him. He felt a stir of sexual desire just watching her body move. He was soon treated to her lilting laugh and effervescent humor.

They sat for a while and talked. Neither was hungry so they decided to catch a movie first and then made plans to visit a Moroccan restaurant in Cambridge later for dinner. It was to be a new dining adventure for Jason; Zavi, being more the expert, would be his guide in selecting something great to try. He loved it that she would lead him on this adventure.

He had never been to Morocco but the restaurant décor seemed as authentic as he would have expected it to look. Music that Jason associated with belly dancing was playing softly and the scent of orange essence, cinnamon, mint tea and cardamom, as well as other spices he couldn’t identify, filled the air. The dominant colors were turquoise and shades of peach and blue. Gold toned lattice room dividers created small private dining areas. He and Zavi were led to one of these where a small cozy couch held an array of tasseled plump pillows in jewel toned hues. Brass and jeweled hanging lamps cast elaborately patterned shadows, creating a romantic glow in corners of the room. Mint tea, and later their meal, was served on small round shiny brass tables. They sat in view of an indoor fountain that rose from a turquoise and peach tiled archway. Zavi ordered for them: grilled vegetable kabobs and a tomato and cucumber salad with feta cheese, olive oil and lemon. Their main course was a chicken tagine made with onions and prunes and served with couscous and the mint tea. The meal was exotic and sensuous, enjoyed with an exotic and sensuous companion. He gazed into her eyes, physically aroused by the mere presence of her. The background music contributed to the seductive atmosphere.

They stopped at a neighborhood bar and had a few drinks after dinner. At an opportune moment Jason leaned toward her and kissed her lips. She responded warmly, placing her palm on his cheek as she drew him to her and kissed him back.

In almost no time they were at her apartment and undressed. She was wildly sensuous in bed. Jason could not recall ever having sex with such abandon as he experienced with her. The second round of passionate sex was even more intense than the first.

He reluctantly left her apartment near midnight and took a taxi home. They both had class the next morning. Besides, he laughed contentedly as he settled into the taxi seat,
I have to get this pen home safely
.

He was almost shy with Zavi the next morning in class. But she soon put him back at ease. He reminded himself how lucky he was to have found someone like her. They had coffee, and shared passionate kisses, for a brief visit after their class. And then she had her project to work on, and he needed to get back home.
But probably,
he thought as he checked his phone then for any messages as he boarded the subway,
I’ll be there with nothing to do
.

He straightened up quickly on the subway seat when he saw he had missed a call from Augere.

Damn! What time had he called—and what time was it now? A glance at his phone told him the call had come less than twenty minutes ago.

He called Augere’s number. It rang four times before Augere answered. “Yes.”

“It’s Jason. I just got your message. This is the first chance I had to return your call.”

“You have time away from your class for the holiday that is approaching, correct?”

He must have meant Thanksgiving. Unless he was counting Halloween.

“Did you mean—in November?”

“Yes.”

“I do, yes.”

“Are you returning here now?”

“I can be there within a half hour.”

“I will speak to you then.” He hung up.

Well. He didn’t sound angry or annoyed.
And,
Jason thought,
I have his pen to return to him; that should make him happy. Plus the two presents I bought for him
.

Jason entered through his private entrance. He brought the fountain pen and the recently purchased items with him to the library.

The sight of Augere sitting at his desk caught Jason’s breath, as it still did nearly each and every time. There was just something about being his presence Jason could not get over. At times it made his heart quicken as if he were approaching a famous person whom he had idolized all his life and who had just now granted him an audience. It was a reaction Jason had been trying to curb, but without much success.

“Hi, Mr. Augere. I hope I’m not very late. I was on my way home when I got your call. And I have something of yours,” Jason babbled, hoping to get in a pre-emptive strike if it turned out Augere was miffed. He handed him the fountain pen.

Augere looked at it a moment, and then leaned closer to take it from Jason’s hand. A momentary dizziness quickly passed.

“Where did you find it?” Augere asked.

“It was on my bedside table. I didn’t realize it was mixed in with all of the pens and notebooks I tossed into the bag I use for school. I guess it had been there for a few days.”

Augere held his gaze for several moments. He examined the pen with a curious expression for several moments before setting it on the desk in front of him.

“I have some other things for you also.” The fleur de lis charm he had gotten wrapped, but not the T-shirt.

“When I finally realized you had spent your birthday looking after me, when I had inconveniently gotten so ill, I wanted to get you something. This is what I came up with.” He handed Augere the bag with the shirt. Augere opened it.

Augere’s face relaxed into a small smile when he took in details of the shirt. “I quite like it.”

Jason breathed a sigh of relief. “And this.” Jason handed him the small box wrapped in silver paper.

As Augere removed a silver ribbon from the box, Jason was already speaking rapidly again.

“Mr. Genier mentioned to me you had lost that small fleur de lis I’ve seen you wear. I know this can’t replace the one you lost, not nearly, but until you find that one, which hopefully you will, I happened to come across this and I thought you might—”

Augere’s expression stopped him. “It is perfect.” he said. “It looks like something I would have chosen myself.”

That pleased Jason immensely.

Augere removed the fleur de lis from the box to examine it more closely. The expression was one he had not yet seen from Augere, something new, to add to his growing collection of Augere responses. He appeared profoundly, sincerely touched by the gesture.

Jason felt the need to explain. “I just did not want your birthday to go unobserved entirely. Even if it is late.”

“You…did not need to do this. I do not acknowledge them.”

“Well, I’m going to acknowledge mine until I am too old to remember how old I am.” Jason laughed.

Augere was looking at him in that intent way he had. Jason usually squirmed under that intense scrutiny. He had been learning to try to sit calmly and endure it; he was getting better at it, but he still could not quite meet that intense violet hued gaze for very long.

“You have not made plans for the time in November.” As usual Augere’s questions were more often statements, as if Augere already anticipated the answer, and merely wanted to hear it confirmed.

“None.” Jason truly had not even given any thought to Thanksgiving. He was just now realizing it was only a month away. He supposed it would be nice to be home with his family. Then, again he had missed Thanksgivings before—

“We will be traveling to Europe then. I will provide you with the details tomorrow. I will be flying to London first and will attend to business there. You may go directly to Italy in advance, if you choose. Or you can delay your departure. In any case, we shall meet in Venice. I will have you make the arrangements and then confer with Genier. Are there any immediate concerns?”

“No—none.” Jason tried to contain his excitement.

Augere selected and removed one of the silver chains from his wrist. He slid the fleur de lis and the chain across the desk toward Jason. “As you leave, take these and have the new item securely and permanently attached to this chain.”

He was being dismissed and given a task to do. And he was fine with that. It was all good.

No, it was better than good
. He exited the library with joyful exuberance.

“Venice! Redlyn was absolutely right—I’m going to Italy!”

Chapter 15

Venice

The travel arrangements kept changing.

Augere had originally planned to fly to London, spend a day there and then go to Lisbon, presumably for a business matter, and then on to Venice. But he decided to take the QE2 to Southampton instead, leaving several days before Jason. He would spend a night in London before traveling on to Venice where they would meet at the designated hotel. Then the two would go on to Paris with a final stop in London before returning home.

Jason was having difficulty making a reservation for them at one of the hotels Augere had requested in the London area. “The Crown and Crescent,” apparently located in an area of land that contained a nature preserve and was only accessible by boat or footpath, could not be found. It had been a well-known venue at one time for numerous rock groups in the ’60s and ’70s. Augere had provided an old faded piece of paper with general information about the place. However the number now appeared to be disconnected. Jason was at a loss. He did not want to screw this up. He wanted Augere to know he was more than capable of handling these kinds of details. He had anxiously gotten up before dawn to place an early morning call to the London visitor’s center to speak to someone in person regarding hotel information.