Scarlet Masquerade (3 page)

“Please accept my apologies, Mademoiselle Dumonte. I will seek other seating arrangements for dinner. I don’t want to ruin your evening.”

With that, Alexandra was at the head table discussing new seating arrangements with the host. Quickly, she was replaced with a rather portly gentleman who had been enjoying too much wine and reeked of his overindulgence. Clarissa watched as Alexandra sat next to a younger man who was obviously happy with the new seating arrangements, as he rose to seat Alexandra in her spot. Alexandra nodded and rendered a smile to Clarissa, who was shaken by a sudden jealousy, while she watched Alexandra engage the young man with a sweet laugh at something that was said between them.

After dinner, the only thing Clarissa wanted was fresh air and a quiet spot. Sitting between the two men had been an exercise in feigned enjoyment. On one side, one man sat and talked incessantly of himself. On the other side, one had belched non-stop throughout dinner, without the decency of apologizing. It made her want to retch, since he often did it right in her face while talking to her. As they rose to retreat to the parlor for dancing, Clarissa begged her date’s apologies, informing him that she needed to freshen up before dancing. When he rose to escort her, she explained that she knew the way and that he should take the opportunity to mix with the other gentlemen. Clarissa knew full well Monsieur De Marcus would corner another young woman as soon as she was gone. Turning, she quickly made her way out through a set of doors, not caring where they led, as long as it was outside. As her eyes adjusted to the darkness, she made her way to a balustrade that edged the porch. She was far enough out of sight to be missed. Yet, close enough that if someone came looking, she would see them first.

Clarissa leaned back against the bulk of the ornate balustrade and reached behind with her hands, balancing herself. She let her head slowly roll back and took a deep breath. The warm night air hung with perfumed wisteria that was in full bloom. It felt good to relax and enjoy the quiet of the evening, even if it was for a short time. Soon, she would be home and in bed wishing she had never accepted her father’s suggestion of a date with Monsieur De Marcus.

Clarissa practically jumped off the porch when she heard the low rumble in her ear.

“You know, you should be careful out here unprotected, Mademoiselle.”

Clarissa could barely make out the silhouette of a person standing in the shadows.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know anyone was out here. I didn’t mean to intrude on your privacy.”

“Please, don’t apologize. I was only enjoying the evening, as you were.” Alexandra came out from the shadows slowly and stood next to Clarissa. She was close enough to recognize the perfume, hints of honeysuckle.

“Besides, I am sure you are ready to slit your wrists after having to sit between two remarkable specimens of the male species. So, you need the quiet more than I do,” she said, as she turned to go back inside.

“Please, wait. Don’t go…I mean, you don’t have to go in just because I am here. The porch is big enough for two, or more.”

It was a good thing it was dark out. The blush that seemed to accompany a conversation with Alexandra was creeping its way back up Clarissa’s neck again. Without looking, she could feel Alexandra’s eyes on her. The thought made her shiver. Clarissa told herself it was the thought of talking to an unaccompanied woman that made her curious. It was rare in Parisian society that women went to parties unescorted. It was thought to be in bad taste. The idea that a woman couldn’t get a man to escort her meant something was wrong. She should stay home and be thought of as respectable. The fact that Madame Locke did not stay home intrigued Clarissa. At least that’s what she told herself. No, there was something more about Madame Locke, but Clarissa couldn’t quite put her finger on it.

The silence between the two was almost deafening as Clarissa was startled back to reality by an owl flying by.

“Ah, we seem to have company.”

Clarissa looked around and didn’t see anyone.

“Excuse me, but I don’t see anyone.”

“The owl. Don’t you hear him?” Leaning in, she whispered into Clarissa’s ear, “There, don’t you hear him?”

Alexandra’s nearness was overwhelming Clarissa and she took a step back, only to be stopped by the balustrade behind her.

“Relax, you aren’t for dinner tonight….” Hearing a squeak, Alexandra continued, “…the mouse, he is dinner.”

Clarissa felt a wave wash over her as she inhaled Alexandra’s perfume. Relaxing against the bulk of the balcony, she turned to see Alexandra staring at her again. She returned the gaze, determined not to weaken under the intense scrutiny. Her gaze roamed over Alexandra’s face. She noticed a smile meander across Alexandra’s lips and teeth, oddly reflecting the moon’s light. A tingle ran down her spine as she watched Alexandra run her tongue along her top lip.

“Well, I have kept you too long. Your date will wonder where you have gone off to. Perhaps we can have lunch sometime, Mademoiselle Dumonte? Next week, before I leave for my summer home in Italy.” Alexandra reached down and clasped Clarissa’s hand, caressing it before lowering it. “But, then again, I will understand if your date has influenced you against me?”

“No, I barely know Monsieur De Marcus. Besides, I can make my own decisions. I would love to have lunch. What could it hurt?”

“Indeed, what could it hurt?” Alexandra asked, walking back into the shadows. “Then I will send a carriage for you. Is Tuesday okay?”

With that, Alexandra was gone off the porch and back into the house, leaving Clarissa to wonder why she had accepted the invitation to dine with someone she barely knew. Someone who, according to her date, had a very racy past and hated men.

Clarissa twisted the glass of wine between her fingers as she was pulled back into the present. Remembering the first time she had met Alexandra seemed like yesterday and yet it was over a century ago.

A.J. sat back on her bike and watched the moon as it moved on its protective path across the midnight sky. How different she was back then. She had been a vampire for almost seventy-five years when she met Clarissa. Suddenly, memories of her own turning flooded her mind. She had innocently taken her horse out for a simple ride through the forest when she lost track of time. One minute it was a beautiful, sunny, warm day and, before she knew it, night had fallen throwing her into the darkness of the forest and waiting arms of a vampire. He had been stalking her since dusk, moving stealthily through the forest waiting for his opportunity to strike. Her horse spooked and she was thrown, or so she thought. Landing on her back, she was straddled by a man with shining, almost glowing black eyes.

“You really shouldn’t be riding alone, my dear. Things happen in the forest. Haven’t you read the children’s stories of things that go bump in the night?”

Alexandra raised her hips against the dead weight that sat firmly on her, but with no success. She tried to squirm loose but he only laughed at her attempts to dislodge him.

“Please, you’re only delaying the inevitable, my love.”

“How dare you?” Alexandra questioned the audacity of the man straddling her. “If you are set about to rape me, I assure you my family will hunt you down like the animal you are and kill you. Release me.” Alexandra felt the cold hand of fear squeeze her heart as her body tensed.

“Oh, I assure you I’m not here to rape you my love, oh and you will be my love when I am finished with you. You’ll have no choice. You see,” continuing as he bared his fangs, “I intend to own you. A bite will do more than a kiss any day and you will be mine.”

A simple ride in the country had cost her everything she valued at that time. Her parents, her life and her freedom. To say her master was benevolent was like saying a snake could be kept as a pet. Of course the snake is always a snake and they eventually do what nature intended, kill, as does a vampire. He taught her to control her urges, how to be discreet and how to blend in with society. With time she was free to lead her own life without his tutelage or guidance. She had heard that his life was forfeited when he tried to turn the wrong person. A blacksmith had struck him through the heart with a hot poker when her master had tried to attack his daughter. A fitting end to a man who had lusted for too many and taken much from his victims. But that was another time, a lifetime for everyone else, but young in her lifetime.

Remembering Clarissa though was another gentle reminder of her past life. It was Paris in the eighteen hundreds and A.J. was rich, beautiful, and independent. It was a time when women were like children, never meant to be seen or heard from, unless their husbands gave them permission to do so. Clarissa, on the other hand, was young, beautiful, and single. She had a fire in her that A.J. loved, and it was what drew her to Clarissa immediately when they had met. The role A.J. played at that time was the one of a rich, widowed woman who loved to travel and had estates in several countries.

For as long as A.J. could remember, she always knew she was a lesbian. She never fell in love with men. It just wasn’t who she was. She liked to play with women, and she played a lot. She just didn’t play in her own backyard. That could be dangerous. She also had a rule and that rule was simple, she didn’t feed where she played. She could feed on a lover and she could turn them. She just didn’t end their lives, she loved them too much.

A.J. worked hard at constructing what would be seen as a normal life for a woman back then. She was seen with men so often that no one would have guessed she disliked them. She had never slept with them and she hadn’t dated them longer than a few months. She had traveled and enjoyed what life had to offer. She had more than her share of closeted lovers, too. It wasn’t hard to find women who liked other women, actually. Parisian men had their own lives and vices and that often left lonely, horny women at home, a situation she found ways to take advantage of. Befriending a wife was easy. She often met them at social engagements where they would become friends. They would go to lunch or meet for tea, talking about what beasts men were, how they violated their wives or had affairs and there she was to comfort the poor things.

She tended to her own affairs, took care of estate business and lived much like a man did. She even opted for wearing men’s clothes when she was home. She liked working her estates and primarily loved working the grounds, a fete most of her staff admired, especially when she shared small talk about their families or ate a meal with them. She had hated those who treated their staff like slaves, ordering them around, paying them meager wages and rarely giving them time off to raise their families, let alone see them. She had learned at a young age that if you wanted respect you needed to give it. If you wanted loyalty you needed to earn it. She still missed her father’s guidance and wished he had lived long enough to see how she had succeeded.

Back in the present, the ride through the city was quiet and calming, the night finally cooling. The streets were barren and lifeless as she made her way to the parking garage of her apartment complex. She hated the city, actually. It made her feel dirty and hopeless. The high-rise cement skeletons that made up the living spaces for the inhabitants reminded her of crypts. Only these crypts were filled with people who paid five bucks for coffee and yet walked past a homeless man and offered only scorn for his condition. She had chosen to live close to work so she didn’t have the long commute every day, but it was beginning to wear on her. A.J. thought she had seen it all, but lately, humanity was showing how low it could really sink into the abyss. The senseless gang shootings, the drugs, and now the Middle East war that seemed to go on forever. It was beginning to make her wonder why she had chosen to stop feeding on humanity. And she was the evil everyone in the world worried about?
Please, one less scumbag in the world, who would notice?

Her life had become a series of patterns. Lonely, lifeless patterns that repeated themselves every fifty or so years. However, tonight that pattern had shifted, skewed because of one woman. She thought about Clarissa again as she dropped the kickstand down for the third time that night. Walking to the elevator she stopped, inserted her key and punched the button for the penthouse. She stood listening to the hum of the elevator waiting to be lifted to her sanctuary. She wondered what had happened to Clarissa since she’d last seen her. How had she survived? Did she have someone in her life now? Where did she work? What was her name? More questions than she could give attention to swirled in her head as she watched the doors, waiting for them to open up and swallow her inside. She felt herself become dizzy and reached for the cold wall, one knee buckling slightly as she swayed towards the support. What was wrong with her? She had seen unspeakable tragedy. Created unspeakable tragedy in her life and now, the mere thought of Clarissa was making her light headed.

Entering her apartment and tossing her keys in the tray by the door, she looked around and wondered what Clarissa would think of her place. It was functional, yet sterile. It had the dark wood tones of mahogany and soft accent lights that displayed a few token art pieces she kept for entertainment sake. She didn’t entertain often, but when she did, she wanted her apartment to be serviceable. Walking to the bar, she poured a triple malted scotch. She had acquired the taste decades ago. Its soft oak undertones and smooth taste warmed her, if you could call it that. It was amazing what time and evolving had done for her. She had learned to enjoy the sun again, slowly. It had taken decades, and sunlight-reproducing lamps, to get her accustomed to small doses of the warming rays. She often thought of herself as a snake, coveting the short-lived warmth of the sun on her skin, but instantly becoming cold when it was gone. Now, she could live outside with little damage to herself. She wouldn’t be living in the Bahamas anytime soon, but she could survive in the areas where coastal fog was more of a companion than the sun.