Aris Rising: The Court of Vampires: AN INFINITY DIARIES NOVEL (5 page)

“I’m so sorry I’m late.” She was a little out of breath from her hurried trip from the train station. “I tried to call the deli several times, but the phone was busy.”

“That’s quite alright. I understand, however, I just received a text from a colleague. I have a meeting scheduled this morning, which I forgot and I must rush. I hope you will forgive me.” They stood, her face lifted to meet his eyes; he was a whole head taller than she was. “I know we’ve just met and you don’t know me at all, nevertheless I must ask. Would it be possible that we meet for drinks or dinner this evening, your choosing? I find the subject of past-life regression most interesting and you are the first expert I have met.”

He tipped his head toward her in a gesture that reminded her, once again, of Carlos. What could happen in a restaurant? The truth was she wanted to see him again. It had been so long since she was out on a date with someone of her own species, she wondered if she would know how to act. Hastily, she responded. “Yes. Let’s meet at The Bistro. It’s just a few blocks south of here.”

“Six o’clock?”

“Yes, six o’clock will be fine. I’ll be on time.”

Smiling what seemed a grateful smile, he turned toward the door. His teeth were straight and white against his golden Italian skin. Sarah was puzzled at her immediate reaction of acceptance. She wasn’t accustomed to meeting strange men for dinner.

As he crossed the restaurant toward the door to the street his cell phone rang. Turning to wave goodbye to Sarah, he answered. As he stepped through the door onto the sidewalk, he spoke. “Yes, I just met her.” He was silent as the voice on the other end of the telephone spoke. When he replied, his tone was angry. “Leave it to me. She suspects nothing. If I need your help, I will ask for it.” Without waiting for a response, he ended the call, dropped the telephone in his coat pocket and hurried down the street.

#

“So, have you heard from him?” It was past the noon hour and the lunch crowd had thinned. There were just a few late comers still in the restaurant. The mid-day noise of the busy diner had quieted, making for an easy conversation. Sarah was hungry and dived into her salad without hesitation as soon as the waitress placed it on the table. That morning she left Saul’s immediately after her Italian doctor without eating, missing her breakfast entirely.

“Colleen, if you don’t quit living on burgers, you’re going to have cholesterol that is over the moon.” Sarah eyed the double burger and fries her best friend was wolfing down practically whole. “At least chew, for heaven’s sake. That baby you’re carrying is going to come out crying for a quadruple burger on a toasted bun with extra pickles instead of a bottle.”

“Give me a break.” Colleen laughed. “First my husband is on me about what I eat and now you. Bob nags me constantly about food and vitamins and exercise. I’m a saint at home so cut me a little slack once in a while, okay? Besides, I’ve been so sick the last few weeks, I couldn’t eat much of anything.” So saying, she dipped a huge French fry into an enormous glob of ketchup and popped it into her mouth. “And, you didn’t answer me. Have you heard from him?”

“I assume ‘him’ means Carlos.” Sarah wasn’t quite sure how to answer. “He’s been in touch and he seems to be doing fine.”

“What the hell does that mean? After spending a couple of years trying to keep the guy straight, ‘doing fine’ doesn’t cut it.”

“Well, he’s still gainfully employed and he’s still in his own apartment.”

“That guy has sure had some hard luck.” Colleen shook her head as she spoke. “And some amazing luck. I still get freaked out when I think how that bullet wound in his gut just disappeared. I’ll never figure that one out.”

“Neither will the doctors.” Sarah finished eating the last bites of her salad, stacked her silver on the plate and pushed it to the side of the table.
“And I’m damned glad of that
,” she thought as she waved the waitress to bring some more iced tea. She added an additional sugar packet to the remnants of the amber liquid and ice cubes pooling in the bottom of her glass.

“I’d sure like to see him. If you speak to him soon, why don’t you ask him to come with you to Thanksgiving dinner. I know Bob would like to see how he’s doing. He saw a lot of good in Carlos and for my hard-nosed cop husband to see anything good in a con is really amazing.” Colleen dragged her last remaining French fry through the dregs of ketchup on her plate and ate it, licking the final drop from the tip of her forefinger. “What do you say? Will you ask him? It’ll just be us.”

“Alright, I’ll ask him if I talk to him before the holiday.” She stood, ending their conversation. “Now come on, I’ve got to get back to work.” After sliding her arms into her trench coat, she gathered her purse and scarf.

Colleen wondered if anyone noticed her tiny pregnancy bulge. She realized she was the only one who would notice such a small change; her waist had barely thickened. It made her happy to think she might already be showing a little bit. After the deep sorrow of losing her first baby when she was hit by a car, she was doubly excited to be expecting again. Patting her stomach with a smile,
she put on her knitted jacket and gloves. Picking up the check, she reached in her pocket. As she withdrew a wad of crumpled money, she spoke. “I’ve got this one. Come on; let’s go before the wind blows any harder.” She wrapped her muffler around her neck as she dragged Sarah toward the door of the restaurant. The two friends hurried into the street just as the heavy dark clouds covered the mid-day sun.

“A
lright Sarah, lean back in the recliner and relax.”

Sarah found Bonnie’s suggestion difficult to follow. She was restless at the thought of her appointment that evening. She felt she was doing something she wouldn’t want Aris to know about and she didn’t understand why. Why did she need to keep her dinner engagement a secret from him? There could never be a romance between them. She and Aris were just friends. It had been their mutual decision to allow their relationship to evolve slowly of its own accord. She was irritated with herself for feeling she was doing something behind his back. It wasn’t necessary for her to report in to him.

“Would you like to do this on another day? You seem a bit agitated.”

“No. No, just give me a minute to breathe and clear my mind.” Closing her eyes, she leaned against the cool leather. Focusing only on where she was in the moment, she began to relax.

Bonnie watched her friend grow more calm and when she felt all was well began the induction into hypnosis.

SARAH HAGAN, transcript, session 2

Bonnie led her back in time, back to the manor house in
Cotswold. “What’s happening today?”

“It’s the morning of All Hallows Eve and the maids are scurrying around, lighting the huge fireplace in our chamber. My sister, Jane, and I share a bed. We are huddled close waiting until the fire warms the air before we open the bed curtains. We love to lie in bed eavesdropping on the gossip of the two girls who serve us. They always know exactly what is about in our household and speak in loud whispers. If we listen closely, we can hear every word.”

“There are gypsies in the forest. Have ye’ heard?”

“I did hear. Head cook told the footman as I gathered kindling this morning. The footman told her his wife went last night to find the sex of their unborn child. An old woman with an eye patch covering her evil eye told him it was a male child.”

“When I heard they were here, I hoped there was someone who read fortunes. Let’s sneak out tonight. They might not be long in the forest.”

“Nay. Tonight is All Hallows Eve. I wouldn’t go into the forest for all the gold in the King’s coffers.” They finished lighting the fire and left the bed chamber.

“Elizabeth,” my sister whispered as she pulled the covers over our heads so no one might hear us. “Let us, you and I, go tonight.” While my sister was younger than I, she was more fearless and secretly craved dangerous excitement. “There will be fires and music and fortune telling. We shall ask when you will be married.” She giggled as she spoke the words.

“We shall do nothing of the kind. Father would be mad with worry if he should find us missing.”

“He will not find us missing. Rolled bedding under our covers will appear as two sleeping girls. Please, Elizabeth. It will be such a lark.”

“No,” I said. But she could tell from the sound of my voice, I was intrigued. Gypsies. Never in my life had there been gypsies in our forest. I wondered if this would be our only hope of seeing them and I so wanted my fortune read.

All during the day she pled to see the gypsies. She could see me weaken at each request. At last, at early twilight, I agreed. When the evening fire burned low, we would sneak through the kitchens to the stables. We would walk our horses until out of earshot of the inhabitants of the great house then ride like the wind to the forest.

It seemed forever before the household was quiet. Silently we crept to the stables. The horses responded as if they were knowingly involved in our clandestine outing. They were calm as we walked them from the stable and through the great gates of the courtyard. Once on the outer road, we mounted and galloped toward the forest trail. It seemed just a short time before we heard music and saw the glow of the fire of the camp.

Tying our horses to a tree, we crept through the remaining woods toward the sounds. As we approached the clearing we were mesmerized by the strange vision of these vagabonds in our country. Primitive wooden wagons formed a circle around a blazing campfire; the firelight danced on the colorful flowers painted on their outer walls. Overhanging roofs made tiny porches where some of the dark-skinned, dark-eyed women sat smoking pipes, tapping their bare feet in time to the drum and violins being played. The music was passionate and wild.

Suddenly a man leaped from one of the porches to land whirling in a spirited dance. He was magnificent, golden and muscular, his tightfitting black pants tucked into tall boots, his long black hair swirling around his beautiful face. Hoops of gold suspended from his ears glittered as he spun.

The tempo slowed, growing melancholy, dark. He stopped short, his arms raised above his head, wrists crossed. He appeared as a statue. His bare chest glistened with sweat as he seemed to halt even his breath. Then one foot stomped quietly into the soft earth. Then the other. His chin and chest raised high, he began to clap his uplifted hands in time with the drum. His feet met the tempo. His hips moved enticingly as the tempo increased until his steps were pounding the earth keeping pace with
the increasing rhythm of the drumbeat. At the same moment the music ended, he leaped high in the air and landed on one knee, his chin tucked into his chest, his black hair wild around his shoulders. There wasn’t a sound from anywhere in the camp. Both Jane and I stood frozen, trance-like, unable to speak or move. Such raw beauty, such grace and power. Never in our young lives had either of us seen such a sight.

At last he stood, laughing, pulling his damp hair away from his face, tying it with a scarf he drew from his pocket. His movement broke the spell and the camp came to life. The women applauded and began to chatter, the men clapped him on the back, handing him a huge goblet to ease his thirst. A dark-haired beauty moved from the shadows and placed a red rose in the belt of his trousers. He smiled, his perfect teeth white against his dark swarthy complexion.

“Come, Elizabeth, let us explore. We must find the woman with the patch to have our fortunes read.”

The sound of her voice startled me. I was lost in the beautiful man that stood in the clearing. She took my hand and led me into the camp. As we circled the edge of the clearing making for the largest of the wagons, I could see him follow us with just his eyes. I felt I was wearing only my chemise as we climbed the steps. My face glowed red. I could not ascertain if the flush was from the heat of the bonfire or the unfamiliar sultry flame that filled my belly.

We paused at the doorway. There was no door; a simple embroidered shawl covered the entrance. “Come inside, my ladies.” Her voice was old yet sprightly. “Come in.”

Jane moved the shawl aside as we crossed the threshold. The interior of the wagon was lit by one small lamp and there sat the woman with the eye patch in a beautifully carved chair behind a table laid with large cards. So large that I could see they were filled with strange markings.

“Sit.” She motioned us toward two barrels drawn close to the table. “Which maiden shall be first to have her fortune read?”

“I will,” Jane spoke quickly. The crone held out her palms. With a
tentative motion, Jane reached to touch her hands. The gypsy closed her eyes and appeared to go into a trance. I watched her. She was enchanting. Old and wrinkled, a life of work without luxury etched upon her face. Her hair gray and wispy, yet she had a dignity that even my own mother was without, dignity that only living a life to its fullest could produce. Questions began in my mind. How was it possible that this poor woman without a home, her life lived moving from place to place, was able to find such obvious peace?I listened with only half an ear as she told my sister lovely things. A long life. A good marriage. Children. Jane glowed with her every prediction.

She released Jane’s hands then reached for mine. When my palms touched hers, a jolt shook my body. I tried to pull away but could not. It was as if we had become one. Staring at her over the lamplight, I watched as she closed her good eye. Tension flew from my body as I became relaxed and passive. It seemed a very long time yet I knew it was only moments before she looked upon me once again. She was still silent as she watched me. When she spoke, her voice was clear, all the aged tremor gone.