Hydeaway
#98 of The Moonrise Chronicles
They
regaled him with tale after tale until he politely asked them to stop.
"It is
not that I do not believe you my friends, but I find it too much to take in. I
am aware of the veracity of some of the information you have told me. The
incident in France was on the news here, though I must admit to being flummoxed
how the incident in St Petersburg didn't make it to the telly. If it's anything
even remotely terrorist oriented and the networks plaster it like it's the most
important thing to show."
Maggie
nodded. "I'm pretty sure it made it on the local networks, but then again, I
don't know that much about the way Russia handles information anymore. I didn't
stick around long enough to see what happened."
"A wise
choice. So it turned out that the man behind your attack was actually your
great uncle?"
"Yeah.
I don't hold it against him if that's what you're thinking. It wasn't really
him who ordered it, and even if it was, he had no idea who we were."
"No,
but I'll place a wager on the idea that it's something he regrets. Rashness
often leads to such downfalls."
"Yes it
can, but since he had no idea I even existed, how can I blame him? We are
together now and that's the important thing."
"Yes, I
would say it is. Having family and friends makes even the worse situation
bearable."
There
was an awkward silence before he continued. "Allow me to show you to your room.
I would suggest contacting your friends and letting them know you intend to
stay here overnight. Then we can go get something to eat. I hardly ever cook
for myself you see. Just not worth the bother of dirtying the kitchen."
Their
room for the night was as period as the rest of the house; though it needed the
windows opened to allow for some fresh air. He was speaking the truth when he
said that he received very few visitors. There was a light layer of dust, not
so much as one might expect, but it was still obvious that the room saw little
use. Their host made a little bow and was about to leave them alone for a
moment, but hesitated.
"I say.
Would you like to humor an old man?"
"I
guess that depends on what your request happens to be."
"Nothing
too odd, I assure you. I have a habit of going out dressed to the teeth, as you
might say. I have many vintage outfits here, gathered over the years. I think I
might have something to suit both of you. I would be much obliged to dine in
style, for it brings back a few of the fonder memories I have of old London."
"Uhh,
sure. I don't think that would be too odd of a thing to ask. We have done far
worse things than dress up for a special occasion."
"Wonderful,
wonderful! I suppose you can adjust your proportions just a little if
necessary?"
He
received two nods.
"Good,
good! I thought you could. What member of The Kind can't handle such an
innocuous thing? Let me find the items I have in mind."
He left
them there as he hurried off down the hall and around the corner.
"Why
would he have clothing that doesn't fit him?" Maggie was staring towards the
direction he had gone.
"Think
about it. It's quite possibly clothing left over from his former victims. He
told us about his time in America, but nothing so far of his time here. He had
plenty of chances to kill since returning, you can count on it."
Maggie
felt her skin crawl. "Quit saying stuff like that. I'm beginning to think he's
no better than Albert Fish."
"Fish
was never contrite. He was a cold blooded murderer through and through. Robert
here, he does have a checkered past, but I'm trying to give him the benefit of
the doubt."
"I
don't know. He gives me the creeps. When I first sensed him, I thought this was
going to be cool. It is, I guess, but I'm having some strong misgivings."
"Mags
is scared of a little old man?"
"I
didn't say I was scared. I said he gave me the creeps. He seems like old
dynamite; very unstable."
"Hmm.
Maybe. He is old, and he did mess with his makeup. But he has lasted this long,
hasn't he?"
"Yes he
has. And just like old dynamite, any new factor; any little bump or knock may
set him off."
"So? Be
nice to him then. We have no reason to treat him otherwise. I for one will not
blame him for what he has done in his past. Your real father likely has an
equally horrid track record, and I don't see you condemning him."
"I do
condemn him, but he isn't our present problem."
Edward
sighed. "Quit looking at him like he's a problem. He's our host, and until such
time as he actively does something against us, I will treat him with as much
respect as I think he deserves."
"Fine!
But be forewarned that I'm getting some uncomfortable vibes off of him"
"Do you
mean the way he looks at you? You're young and lovely and he's old and lonely.
How else his he supposed to act?"
"I don't
know. My god, he's ancient after all!"
"Old
isn't dead my little wolf-girl. Just remember that."
"Hmmph!"
By this
time he had returned with a handsome suit; something one could imagine Sherlock
Homes wearing, and on top of it a petite frilly dress. They were in a
remarkable sate of cleanliness, and neither guest had the audacity to ask how
he managed to keep them so immaculate despite their years. The answer might
prove to be harmless, but there was a chance that he had gotten them cleaned
especially for them. That would mean he had some sort of prescience. It was a gift
some of them had; they both knew that. But that made their meeting seem all the
more sinister.
They
dressed, making only minor adjustments to their normal frames to fit into them.
Maggie was delighted, despite her reservations, and danced a little in front of
the floor length mirror.
"You
know, I like this! I like jeans and t-shirts, and going naked, but this might
make me reconsider dresses. I mean, I've worn them before, but this has style
and panache."
Edward
was admiring her. He couldn't help but
agree, but he still felt like teasing her. "I think you look like Mary
Poppins!"
She
only grinned. "She looked way older than I do. I think maybe I'd rather be...Anne
of Green Gables!"
"That
notion has some rather naughty connotations to it, don't you think?"
"What?
A little pure-hearted girl in pigtails? Sounds like something right up your
alley."
"Yeah,
sadly it does, doesn't it? I wasn't always this way."
She put
on a pose. "Oh don't be so hard on yourself. You're just finding that the
standard rules don't apply to us, because no one has ever considered us when
making them. We live outside the law because we are outside the law. And
besides, I thought you felt better about us once you found out how old I really
was."
"I did
actually, but it's still something I'm always contemplating. I think I'll feel
better when we're married."
"You're
such a traditionalist. It'll be fine. Once we get to Rome and get matter
officiated, I say you and I should go do some exploring."
"That's
what you want for your honeymoon? To go exploring?" He was putting on his own
clothing as he spoke. The pants were a little short, but he compensated for it.
"Yes,
only somewhere where we won't run into others of The Kind. That does seem to
give us more than our share of headaches."
"Agreed.
I for one could use a little down time."
"Down
on what? Me perhaps?"
"That
is an excellent idea!" Just to be funny he started to undress again.
"Not
now you idiot. Tonight. Sheesh!"
When
they met up with Mr. Stevenson, he too had changed, looking every bit the
Victorian dandy. He had a walking stick of ebony topped with, incredibly
enough, a silver knob. They made their way out onto the sidewalk looking more
aligned with their surroundings than the modern cars parked along the street. The
restaurant was a mere three blocks away, and fit in perfectly with the somewhat
grimy atmosphere of the neighborhood. But just like his house, it was clean and
prim on the interior. And it was equally remarkable as it appeared unchanged
from the day it was established.
And the
smells! There was no mustiness here, only fresh wafts of tantalizing delicacies
that could only be imagined. It opened one up to all sorts of possibilities in
the realm of culinary delights. They sat down at a table for four, topped with
white linen and fine china. It almost looked as though they were expected.
To the
looks they gave him, Robert could only smile. "I do have a telephone my
friends. It is not such a difficult task to call ahead you know. It's downright
proper, if you ask me."
They
sat down and were immediately besieged by the wait staff. "Good evening Mr.
Belfour. What shall you have to start off the evening?"
"Just a
nice bottle of Bordeaux please." He eyed Maggie. "Will that suit you or...?"
"Wine
is fine. I've drank much harder stuff than that."
"Perhaps,
but nothing quite so palate-pleasing I think. The owner has a remarkable stock
hidden away just for my private use."
"Does
he now?" Edward asked with amusement. "And where on Earth did it come from?"
"My
dear sir, from me of course. There are a few perks to old age. One of them is
the accumulation of wealth and with it a few niceties. The problem is that
unless they are shared, they become bland and uninteresting."
Maggie's
shrewdness got the better of her. "You own this place, don't you?"
A burst
of laughter filled the room. "Yes! Yes I do! It is by reservation only, of
course, and only the best people get to eat here. So consider yourself among
the best my friends!"
The
wine was served, and it was an old vintage, at least as far as Maggie was
concerned, for the year 1961 seemed like ages ago. The cork was ceremoniously
removed and the wine poured. Their host seemed lost in the aroma of it, but
Edward was a little less appreciative. He had grown up with beer and later
developed a taste for stronger stuff, but wine had always seemed a bit
effeminate. But he took a sip and found
it acceptable, if not overtly to his liking. His palate wasn't as refined as
Mr. Stevenson's. Maggie seemed delighted in it, making a fuss (maybe too much
of one) over its taste and complexities.
"So
young lady, you have an affinity for wine? That is good. Many of us have no
taste for it, and often feel sick after drinking it. My attempt at normality
removed that bane from my life, and it is one of the few things I have been
thankful for since that day."
"So
what's on the menu?"
"I've
chosen something a little outré for tonight's meal. I hope you don't mind. Wild
boar chops, served with root vegetables and white truffle pilaf. There will be
plenty of other delights to salve the appetite and to meld our friendship."
Maggie
smiled and put her hand on Edwards's wrist. Out of her mouth she said, "It all
sounds wonderful," but through their link she said, "I think he's trying too hard. What's he up to?"
"Maybe nothing. I would think it would be
obvious that he is trying very hard to impress us. We are all from royal
lineages after all. Not that such references mean a damn thing anymore, but to
some it must hold a minor ability to awe and amaze."
"I think he wants something."
"Then when the time is right he'll either ask
or we'll pry it out of him."
Edward
was trying to carry a minimal conversation with their host as to not appear
distracted. He was glad when Maggie finished her mental rant so he could pay
attention to the verbal dialog going on.
"You
know," the little man was saying, "that the queen and I knew each other very
well. She is gone now. It's sad how some of us can live a good life and then
leave this world. Her chef knew how to prepare some wonderful dishes. I was
able to obtain his recipe book when he passed on."
"It
does smell wonderful. But if you don't mind me asking," Maggie blurted, "what
is the point in all of this?"
"Mags!"
Their
host was not perturbed in the slightest. "No, no, it's a legitimate question. I
suppose I am overdoing it a little, but when one has so little opportunity to
show off, the showmanship does tend to get a little overboard. But there is
something I hope you can do for me. Two things really."
Edward
was suddenly alert. "Like what?"
"For
one, I would like to travel with you to Rome."
"You
could go at any time. There is a tunnel under the channel after all. So why go
with us?"
"Forgiveness.
I don't know what your feelings are on a higher power, but I feel I need
absolution for all of my past sins. If you are truly going to see the pope,
then what better man to bless and forgive me than him?"
"He has
a point," Maggie said quietly.
"OK.
And the other reason?"
He drew
in a deep sigh. "I wish to borrow a ring. I still have the formula I used in
the past. I'm hoping that if I try it again that maybe it will turn me
completely human."
"But
you'd likely die!!"
"Yes,
that is my desire. I do need to die my dear, and I would rather die knowing
that beast will not be let loose on the world. Hence my desire to make my peace
with God. I'm not sure even he can forgive all that I have done, but I would
feel better knowing I tried to make recompense."
This
request made the hairs on the back of Edward's neck stand at attention. The
ring made a werewolf invulnerable, or nearly so. Stevenson wasn't a werewolf
anymore. He didn't know what he was, but the wolf part was gone. The ring might
have no effect at all, or the effect might be detrimental. And adding to the
mix that toxic potion? This was maybe something Leonardo could help him with.
"You
can come. But you'll have to leave when we do."
"Yes,
of course. Wonderful! We can take the train over to France, and from there..."
"No,
we're flying over."
"Oh.
Well... if you insist."
"We do.
I have already left a trail of destruction and other less than savory things
the last time I was in France. I would prefer to skip going through there
entirely." He remembered his little red car and wondered where it had ended up.
It was such a nice little thing. But then, he had almost died during that time,
and his life was worth far more to him than an automobile. Still... Men and their
toys.
"I
understand. Beggars cannot be choosers. I will make do with your offer. I will
be ready to leave when you are."
"There
is no rush. Once the plane is fixed we will be happy to leave. It's not that I
don't like your country, it's only that I'm not comfortable being here
illegally."
"I
understand son. You have given me an answer to my questions, and that puts my
mind more at ease. Let's enjoy our meal." He raised his glass. "A toast to two
fine members of The Kind, who are undoubtedly a credit to their lines. May you
have peace and tranquility for just so long as you can tolerate it!"
"Hear,
hear!" cried Maggie. "I hate boredom, but a little peace and quiet once in a
while is a well deserved treat."
"I can
but agree my dear. A little rest is good for the soul, but too much leads to
slothfulness and melancholy. I have been still for too long. Now I must take up
arms against the enemy, and though that enemy is me, I must see it defeated."
Despite
his apparent calm exterior, Maggie suspected he was roiling with emotion
inside. She didn't know anyone who would calmly contemplate their own death,
not in such a meticulous manner as this. This wasn't going to be suicide; that
is, if he managed to accomplish the task he had set himself out on. It was
going to be a murder/suicide. He was trying to eliminate the bad at the expense
of the good. That had to be a hard choice to make.
"I see
you are worrying about my sanity young lady. No, no; don't deny it. I told you
already that a long life can be looked at as a slow death. I spend much of my
time keeping my other half in check. It is difficult to enjoy your time when
you are engaged in a constant battle. The fact that I have retained my wits
after all this time is nothing short of a miracle. If not for the fact that I
already can predict the outcome, I would ask for your help in leaving this
world."
Edward
wasn't as outraged as he felt he should be. "To murder you?"
"Please,
keep your voice down. I would hardly call it murder. And I have no intention of
asking; that was my point. This is something I must do for myself. "
There
was an awkward silence. Their host finally spoke up again. "It is not pleasant
to think upon, and yet, I must beg your indulgence. Would you not stop yourself
from running amok if you had the chance?"
"Yes, I
suppose so."
"I
thought as much. So if it pleases you, may we call this conversation to an end?
I think I would much rather talk of pleasant things and enjoy the food rather
than have the unpleasantness of our conversation sour my stomach."
"I
concur," said Edward with a quick squeeze of Maggie's arm. "Let it drop."
As he
said that through their link he got an impression of something unsettling. But
he left it go, for his abilities were far from accurate. He was learning to
take one day at a time and to forget about his foresight.
"Good.
Then we shall say that our future is before us, but that the present needs to
be dealt with first. Bon appetite!"
The
meal was excellent, and gradually the conversation moved to other, more
interesting if still slightly disturbing topics. One can expect such from The
Kind, as their exploits are rarely on par with a normal humans. They exist on a
different plane than everyone else. This doesn't provide an excuse for their
actions, merely an explanation. One might as well ask a lion to eat grass, or a
dolphin to fly. There are some things that are inherent to their nature and
therefore inviolate.
You can
be more than you are and you can be less, but when equilibrium is achieved, you
will always return to who you are. You can only go so far when tethered to your
existence.
It was
very late when they left their table, discussing their past exploits and
comparing notes on a multitude of things. Robert seemed very interested in
hearing about Maggie's family, and asked a few shrewd questions concerning
Verona. He was quite surprised to learn she was carrying Edward's child.
"I
see," he said, contemplating the ramifications of that. "You engaged in the
mating ritual with her, despite not feeling love towards her?"
"Sex
and love are two different things."
"True.
I never had that opportunity. Those urges were taken over by other, less savory
ones."
Edward
shrugged. "Then you'll never know what you've missed. It takes you completely out
of your head. It'll nearly kill you at times, with the savagery of it. It's
nothing like what we do in human form."
"I have
read of tales of it. Even for a writer, I am sure it would be difficult to put
into words."
"It is.
But it becomes engrained upon the mind, etched there like acid on glass. "
"Then I
envy you my friend, for having something I really never did. I met a lovely
woman, but that was all she was. We married, but all that time she never knew
my secret. I guess I can thank her to some degree for forcing me to keep him
under control. It wasn't until years later when I settled in Samoa that I was
able to sneak away for some much needed mayhem."
"You
went on a rampage?"
"Yes.
The conditions were ripe for it. I doubt you know your Samoan history, but I
wrote a monograph on it. There were warring factions, and add to that the Germans,
well... I couldn't resist throwing my weight around. I have no love for Germans
mind you, and at the same time no particular hate for them. I met a few once
upon a time that were very nice. But when you come armed with warships, you can
only have one purpose. I helped the villagers take out an entire contingent of
troops."
"And no
one caught on?"
"There
was no one left from the Hessians to report what they had seen. The natives
bowed down and worshiped me. They called
me Maniloa. He was some sort of cannibal god, and my actions were taken as not being
all that strange. Cannibalism was known on these islands, you see, and my form
matched this mythical figure fairly closely. I found I had an affinity for
these natives, and they for me. I made it my business then and there to stay there
as long as I could."
"But
didn't you die shortly after that?"
"Four years.
The local authorities were getting suspicious of the disappearances that were happening
around the island. It was becoming too
hot for me to stick around, despite the fact that no one was likely to put the enormous
footprints my alter-ego left behind with my more petite ones. My wife was
growing mistrustful, but of what she knew not. I think she thought I was having
affairs with some of the local woman. It was a far better thing to think than
the truth, so I allowed it to linger in her mind. But one day I found that I
just had to leave. To that end I made as if to suffer a seizure while opening a
bottle of wine and I collapsed on the floor."
"And
they bought it?"
"Of
course. I slowed my heart rate down to the bare minimal. My friends on the
island were quick to take my body to bury it. Then under the cover of darkness
I was removed and revived. The natives are a superstitious lot, but they were
very faithful to me. From there it was a matter of booking passage home, Since
I couldn't very well do it from a place where everyone recognized me, the kind natives took me
by one of their canoes to a neighboring
isle, where I waited until a ship arrived that was heading back to England. I
have been here ever since."
"And all
of your writings?" asked Maggie.
"What of
them? If you're asking if I wrote them, the answer is yes. I am the sum total
of my parts my dear, even if the balance was tipped in the favor of the wild
side. I have a strong mind, which is a counterpoint to my dark side. A mind
like mine detests stagnation, and writing was one way to keep it active and
healthy."
"Do you
still write?"
"I do,
under several aliases. There is no point in trying my luck at this stage of my
life, now is there?"
"No. I think I would be interested in reading something
new of yours if that's possible."
"I have
books at the house. And speaking of which, here we are!" He stepped to the door
and undid the lock with a single large skeleton key.
"Aren't
you afraid that someone will break into your residence?"
"My
dear, you've seen me. What do I have to fear?"
He had
a point. Anyone who tried to do him harm likely never made it out the door
again. They stepped over the threshold into the gloomy interior. In a moment a
light was lit, glowing with a glaring brilliance within the confines of the
hallway.
"Goodnight
my friends. I hope you have a pleasant slumber. I will see you early in the
morning for breakfast. My little place serves some of England's most famous
fare, so make sure you have your appetites about you."
He lit
a few more lights as he wandered down the hallway, making a clear, well lit
path for them to follow to their own rooms. A quick look found the bathroom,
and each made good use of it before locating their room. Edward opened the door
and escorted Maggie inside before closing it. He looked around the room and
spied an armoire. He stripped off his clothing and bulked up, moving to in
front of the door.
Maggie looked
mildly amused. "And you think that will really help if he wants in here?"
"It'll give
us a moment to get our wits about us if he does."
"Then
you don't trust him either?"
"I don't
know. I want to, but I think he's more torn inside than he's willing to say."
"I
agree. He seems nice enough, but there is something lurking in the background.
His alter ego sounds like a real jerk. I mean, killing people just because you
can?"
"Don't judge,
lest you be judged little miss. I'm not all that happy at some of things we've
done, and we did the world a favor with those. Let's just get him to Rome and
go from there. Like I said, if anyone can help him, Leonardo will be that
person. Who knows, maybe the weapons might work on him."
"Ugh.
And who will wield them?"
"If the
time comes and it boils down to that, I'm sure we'll figure something out."
"If you
say so. I for one would like to forget about him for a while."
"That'll
be a bit difficult, since we're under his roof at the moment."
"Then I
guess you had better try very hard to make me forget..."
"Is
that a challenge?"
"It's
whatever you want it to be."
"Challenge
accepted!"