The Vampire (THE VAMPIRE Book 1) (50 page)

Augere was looking for a new assistant. That had to be it. That was why he was in New Orleans. And why Genier was so busy now. That must be why they had rushed the papers to him. They were looking to replace him, as soon as possible. This must be the case. Maybe…they had already found someone new.

Carrie came out of the bathroom, having changed into an Edgar Allen Poe shirt and black jeans. He thought, vaguely, as he stared at her, how much he liked the shirt. He was seeing her, but not really seeing her. Then his mind went blank for several moments.

Then, his next thought took him by surprise.
I didn’t think I could feel any worse, but I was wrong
. The thought of being replaced was more painful than he could have imagined.

“I’d been wondering when the other steel toed boot was going to land,” Carrie said to him then, her hands on her hips, noting Jason’s expression. “I’d say the boot has landed.” She gently took him by the hand. “Come on.”

He allowed himself to be led. Carrie drove them to Books Rock. Jason was silent during the ten minute drive.

Carrie selected a quiet table, at a distance from anyone else. When the server approached she asked him, “Do you want to order anything?”

“Hot tea would be good,” he replied absently.

“Okay. I’m getting a chicken salad wrap and hot tea also,” Carrie stated. “You should eat, Jason.”

He gave her a blank look for several moments. “Will you order for me? I can’t brain today. I have dumb.”

Carrie laughed and ordered the same for him.

She took hold of one of his hands for a moment, and remarked how cold he felt, before letting go. “Start wherever you need to,” she said.

“It’s just…there was a situation…” He shook his head. “You think things are a certain way, but then you find out otherwise. Things change so dramatically. I didn’t want to accept it, but then I had no choice. I didn’t do anything wrong, but then I really did not handle things well. Things seemed to get worse, and now…it is just…finished.”

Carrie stared at him, blinking several times. “Well… none of that is even remotely clear.”

She continued staring at him for a moment. The tea arrived; Carrie took a few moments to reflect on what he’d said, while she added honey to both of their Earl Grey’s.

“So—that’s what this is all about? The worry and anxiety. The angst and paranoia. Distraction and misery and trouble functioning, all because of—a relationship? It’s—girl trouble?”

Jason expressed a deep sigh and shook his head.

She continued staring at him. Then her eyes widened slightly and she leaned in a little closer and lowered her voice to almost a whisper.

“Boy trouble?”

“What…?…No.”
Why does everyone just assume that I’m
—

“Well, we are getting nowhere and I need something to work with here…okay, what is the one thing you could do to make this situation less painful for you?”

Jason looked up from his teacup. He was really touched she wanted so much to help him. But he shook his head.

“I know you are an adult who can handle his own problems. I know you keep a lot of stuff to yourself. And I realize you may believe I am too young and haven’t had enough experience in life to be handing out advice to others. But I know when someone is in pain. And maybe all I can offer is a chance to see things from a different perspective. When we walk out of here, I can just about bet you will see things differently. So—to answer the question then…”

“I need to say something I feel needs to be said.”

“What is stopping you from doing that?”

“I don’t have access to the…who I need to talk to.”

“Still on the planet, though?”

Jason nodded.

“Then there is hope. What are your options?”

“Mail a letter, I guess.”

“You can mail a letter,…but you can’t do what you need to in person…because you don’t have access…?”

“It’s complicated.”

“Let me ask this: once you have said what needs to be said—then what? You could be satisfied with that? It would be settled and done once and for all? You could walk away? Or things would be resolved, and the outcome would be what you wanted?”

He found he could not answer right away. And he became concerned his silence was saying too much.

“It’s already done.” He shook his head. “It is already finished, and decided.”

“Not for you, it isn’t. That’s pretty obvious.”

“It is broken. Beyond repair.”

“It seems to me—the thing I would be asking myself—first—is it worth fixing? And is it able to be fixed? Because the Dalai Lama said: ‘If a problem is fixable, if a situation is such that you can do something about it, then there is no need for worry. If it is not fixable, then worry won’t help.’ Or words to that effect. I interpret this to mean: take whatever action is needed to fix whatever can be fixed. Or accept what
you
cannot fix or what cannot be fixed. So—are you so sure everything cannot be put back together again? Do you know that for an absolute fact?” She paused. “And can you accept it if no matter how much you want this, or how carefully you try to repair this, you just cannot put it back together?”

Her choice of words took him by surprise.

They brought Redlyn’s words back to him. Had she said everything could be…or would be, put back together? “Everything has to be put back together.” He thought that was it. Those seemed to be her exact words, or close to it. Maybe this wasn’t as hopeless as it seemed. Maybe, if Redlyn was right, again, then maybe Carrie could be too. And he had to agree with the Dalai Lama’s wisdom.

All of this implied that action would be needed; an action only he could take, action that was required of him. That was how he chose to interpret it.

He felt like he was being given the signs he had been looking for. The path he needed to take was suddenly clear to him now. All the signs pointed to the same thing.

“I have to go to New Orleans,” he said suddenly. His face took on a look of mild surprise.

“What? Why?”

“I have to meet my boss there.”

“But what about this? Aren’t you going to try to do something about this first?”

I just did,
Jason thought.
I made a decision
.

“I guess I will just have to wait and see about that.”

Chapter 22

Nola Redux

Even as his flight took off for New Orleans Jason already felt that he was on the most hopeless quest imaginable. Maybe this was the craziest thing he had ever done. He stood no chance in hell of actually finding Augere, much less talking to him. But he did not know what else to do. He had nothing to lose by trying.

Even from the depths of his misery, the city managed to take his breath away. Once he arrived and began to walk the streets, it was as if he was experiencing the city for the first time, with fresh wonder.

He was only allowing himself a week; it was all he could comfortably afford even with the good weekly rate he was able to get at his French Quarter hotel. Realistically, and financially, it would be insanity to pursue this longer, at the same time realizing a single week would be almost meaningless. As it was, he had no idea where to even begin. Mentally he fully realized the futility and the ridiculousness of the venture; but he was operating on an emotional level and now reason had little to do with it.

He saw the point now: why the Geniers kept the location of their office such a secret. Probably for occasions such as this. The secrecy made it easier to distance themselves. It had been easy enough to fool his family about his real intentions. So far they knew nothing of what was really going on. He had already been packed, with the idea of returning to Boston to try to talk to Augere, so it was a simple matter to convince everyone he had meant to go to New Orleans all along.

He freshened up at the hotel then went out to get some personal items, things he hadn’t thought of in his sudden haste to travel. He needed a notebook and pens; a map of the French Quarter; some Cokes and snacks to live on. This would not be a vacation this time, but a serious project. Having paper and pens at his disposal, something with which to organize himself, always made him feel more confident of success. Now he could formulate a plan. So far, he had none.

Did Augere stay at a hotel when he was in New Orleans? Or with the Geniers? Did he favor the hotel where Jason had stayed on that previous visit? That might be a place to start…but hadn’t there been mention of Augere having his own place here? Yes…And what about that restaurant where they happened to meet? Perhaps that was a favored place…or would be, maybe, if Augere ever ate anything. There was a lot he did not know, or was just putting together about Augere. Jason went to, and spent a brief time at both of those places, but soon grew too restless to just sit and stake them out. He began to wander aimlessly, feeling as if fate might take or lead him where he needed to go.

His mind wandered; he paid scant and scattered attention to his immediate surroundings, though he was ever mindful he was in a city that held much appeal for him. He became somewhat lost. He knew the general direction to get back to the busier part of the French Quarter, probably no more than seven or eight blocks or so, but just now he was in a quiet, unfamiliar residential area. He came to a corner, and was about to turn around and head back in the general direction from which he had come, when something of particular interest suddenly caught his eye. A quite overgrown space which turned out to be a private, secluded courtyard, surrounded for the most part by a high stone wall, but also protected by a tall black iron fence around part of the perimeter. He stepped in close to peer through the thick, densely exotic foliage to get a better glimpse of the interior of the courtyard. A pleasant and delightful surprise greeted his eyes.

The courtyard was as wide as it was long. He could hear, and then following the sound, take in the view of a stone fountain—several in fact, one in the center and two others at the perimeters. He had to shift position several times to try to get better looks at these. He could see part of a narrow stone path; several container gardens, some with bright flowers, the rest with assorted greenery, placed at intervals along this path, and some wildly overgrown areas, as if these were deliberately allowed to flourish. The courtyard garden was a private, seductive oasis. He could just about make out now—the huge plants were well placed for privacy—that the narrow path formed a kind of labyrinth. The overall effect was lush and comforting: a quiet sanctuary from the busyness of the world, or in warmer months from the heat of a summer’s day. He moved further along the black iron fence to gain a different vantage point. Now he could make out a few benches; a small pond, or maybe a stone wading pool. Dappled sunlight forced its way in among the thick canopy of trees, creating both sunny and shady areas. Jason craned his neck to see as much as he could: a few statues were scattered about: an angel with large wings and outstretched hands, where birds were now perching; a realistic stone alligator with slightly opened jaws overlooked the pond; two other stone figures he couldn’t quite make out. Clear glass lanterns hung randomly from various trees or nestled among rocks. Jason imagined the overall effect of that candlelight would be magical in the dark, with all of the lanterns lit. He drew back suddenly—he had just caught some movement; it appeared someone was there, just out of sight.

He became self-conscious then, the guilty voyeur, visually trespassing. He had peered into many courtyards on his previous visit to the French Quarter, but had not been able to see as much detail as in this one. Nor had he felt as charmed with the others as with this, beautiful as those were. As he drew back from the fence, he noticed an intricate pattern he had failed to see when so close to it. Not just the customary and almost expected sharp pointed fleur de lis at the top of the gate, but also, worked into the overall pattern, small spider webs and tiny bats; small basic skull shapes amid the elaborate arabesques. He had seen this before! He hadn’t recognized it at first, the place seemed so much more overgrown now, and he had approached it from a different direction this time. He was more intrigued not just by the peacefulness this place seemed to hold—it was helping to lift and soothe his spirit—but with wonder at who was lucky enough to have such a secret secluded place, a haven that stood so uniquely serene. And how lucky he was to have found it again. The unexpected oddity of the fence intrigued him even more.

He decided he had better move on. He had enough to deal with now, without being accused of loitering as if casing the place. No doubt he had aroused someone’s suspicion by lingering there. At least for a short while he had been able to lose himself in the beauty and tranquility of this place again. It had helped, even temporarily, to banish the worry and emotional turmoil of the past week.

As he walked aimlessly, he automatically searched the faces of any male with dark hair who walked in his vicinity. As if it would be that easy. None was the face he sought, of course, and when he arrived at the Café du Monde for café and beignets, he was dismayed he had not remembered to pay attention to the address of that lush courtyard he had seen again. Not that it mattered, really.
I will not likely see it any time again soon, if ever
. That thought momentarily caused him to feel an aching sadness. He was losing everything that brought him joy.

He spent hours at the Café, searching among all the faces that went by, until finally, near midnight, he reluctantly headed back to his hotel feeling as if he had accomplished nothing. He found it difficult to sleep. The hotel had a small but pleasant courtyard with a lushly landscaped pool and he lingered outside for a while, enjoying the green oasis and the peace and quiet. His mind brought him to that other courtyard now. He began to remember happy memories of his previous trip to New Orleans. The city was once again working its charm and magic on him, and eventually he was able to return to his room and enjoy a restful sleep.

He awoke with a start and a sense of urgency the next morning. He rushed out the door as if there was no time to lose, though he still had no specific plan or agenda.