"So, Adrian is coming to Meadowsweet Ridge?" Gideon asked, his expression
reflecting distaste for the idea.
"Yes," she responded, the one word loaded with defiance. Yet she lay a
hand on his arm, anticipating his response.
Gideon closed his eyes and turned his head. Every muscle and bone in his
hands tensed, defined in stark relief, as he fought not to clench them
into fists.
"It is, of course, your prerogative," he said quietly.
Pandora studied the ramrod straight back of the man beside her. The arm
she was touching felt like a metal bar.
"Gideon," the healer said gently. "Yes, it is my prerogative, but I wish
you would tell me why you are so against it."
One dark eye regarded her wryly, eyebrow raised like a signal flag. "You
know my opinion of...Talbot." Gideon's beautiful pronunciation made the
name an insult. "I do not understand why you would willingly risk
exposing your child to such a harmful influence."
"Adrian would never hurt Aisling!" Pandora exclaimed, looking surprised
at such a suggestion.
"Do you think not?"
Pandora glanced around the parlour at Oakwoods. Nobody was paying any
particular attention to them. Aisling, who had discovered the joys of
walking and not looked back since, was the centre of careful attention.
All three of the Oakwoods Boys were trying to keep him out of trouble,
while Nicholas watched with a benevolent eye and an amused expression.
"I haven't seen your roses in a while, dear," Pandora said, exerting
gentle pressure on Gideon's arm. "Will you show them to me?"
It took him a second, then he inclined his head.
"Of course," he said, rising. "We'll be in the conservatory," he informed
Joshua.
Josh waggled the duck puppet with which he was trying to divert Aisling.
"Go ahead," he laughed. "We're fine." He winked at Pandora.
Gideon and Pandora walked in silence down the hall to the conservatory.
When Gideon slid the glass door open and ushered her in, Pandora took a
moment to...well, to stop and smell the roses. A clever system of
ventilation kept the perfume of the pampered blooms from being
overpowering.
The roses were Gideon's hobby, an outlet for his artistic tastes. He felt
that cultivating roses was an acceptable pursuit for a gentleman --
appearances meant so much to him. He paused to study a cluster of blooms
of deep red, giving himself a chance to marshal his thoughts and curb his
emotions. He knew he would no longer be able to avoid the subject
of Adrian Talbot.
* * *
"Gideon," Pandora said, when the silence threatened to stretch into
infinity, "talk to me, love. What is so terrible about Adrian Talbot that
his very name drives you to fury?"
The Baron sat down heavily on a bench under a spreading bush. He folded
his hands in his lap so that she wouldn't see them shake.
"You know what," he replied, eyes downcast. "His behaviour at the Golden
Fangs ceremonies, taunting me and the Brotherhood..."
Pandora shook her head. "Dear one, you cannot make me believe that a few
petty insults from a sore loser would make you so angry. Had it been
anyone else, you would have laughed it off. You are not that
thin-skinned, Gideon. And why would he have chosen you as a target for
his insults if there was not some history between you? No, there is more."
"Yes. There is more."
"Does it involve Ravensbrook?"
He jumped, as if stung or jolted by electricity. "How did you know?"
"Nothing else would make you hate someone so utterly, Gideon. So, tell
me. You've been keeping this inside too long. Tell me what he did to you."
His eyes focused on the far side of the room, where two-storey high glass
panels gave the roses sunlight that their owner never saw. He started to
speak, so softly that Pandora had to lean towards him.
"I do not know how long I had been in France," he began. "Time meant
nothing in that place. Ravensbrook was still delighting in tormenting me,
he had not yet tired of this sport. There were others there, his servants
and minions, a rag-tag assortment of such dregs as amused him. Most of
the time, he did not even have to recruit them. They flocked to him,
drawn by his reputation or his damnable charisma...
"Ravensbrook would introduce these "friends" to me. They joined in my
torment, sometimes with sex acts, sometimes with beatings or torture.
Ravensbrook would always be present to observe and make certain that they
didn't go too far. 'You must not destroy my pet too soon,' he would
say..."
Gideon shuddered, but mastered himself while Pandora could only watch.
Now she understood why he never spoke of those times.
"There was often someone new, another mocking face. I learned the hard way
not to expect help from these hangers-on.
"One night, I was hauled naked from my cell by my master and dragged into
one of the many bedrooms in the keep -- one where whips and chains were
standard decorations. There were stocks at one end of the room, and
Ravensbrook locked me into one of these. I had learned quickly not to
resist or fight back. Though I no longer cared about anything, I noticed
that there was someone lounging on the bed. Once again I was being offered
for the entertainment of one of my master's "guests". I did not recognize
this one; a dark-haired, rather pretty young man with remarkable
blue-green eyes and a cruel smile.
"'Did I not promise you fine entertainment, my dear boy?' Ravensbrook
asked this stranger.
"'And what is this?' asked the boy mockingly.
"He was English! I dared to hope, to think... Could I appeal to a fellow
Englishman for help, one of about my own age...?
"'This is my greatest treasure,' Ravensbrook smiled, stroking my
cheek. 'My own little catamite, my pet aristocrat.'
"His ears pricked up at that, and he said 'Aristocrat?' with interest.
"'Ah, thought that would interest you,' Ravensbrook said to him. 'Yes,
dear Adrian, this is a member of the vaunted ruling class, one of those
lordly beings who would spit on a mere actor. A lowly Baron, mind you,
but still far above a wandering player." He grabbed me by the hair,
forcing my chin up. "And he is a Puritan, is that not delicious?'
"Of course, I had never embraced my father's cold religion, nor had I ever
raised a hand to a player of any kind. But Ravensbrook's words seemed to
inflame this strange young man, so that he got off the bed and came over
to the stocks where I was held. He, too, was naked; but he seemed totally
unashamed. And he stared at me, with those eyes... and there was madness
in them and my hope died.
"'Oh, aye?" he taunted. 'A Puritan, and a noble?' He spat in
my face. 'What a fine catch. Has it a name?'
"'Baron Gideon Redoak,' Ravensbrook smiled. 'Or what's left of him.
Young lord, this is my newest friend, Adrian Talbot. He's one of those
players that your religion would have put in the stocks and whipped.'
"Talbot smiled slowly. I saw no love for me in that smile.
"'I see you have already gone halfway to reversing that situation,' the
player said, eyes gleaming.
"'I thought I would give you the honours,' Ravensbrook said. He turned to
a rack that held assorted whips, straps and other such implements. 'It
would be the cat, would it not?' he inquired, fingering the dreadful
nine-tailed whip in question. At Talbot's eager nod, my bloodmaster
handed over the cat o'nine tails. 'Have fun,' was all he said.
"The player's hand grasped the stock eagerly. Ravensbrook watched, his
own eyes gleaming. And he swung that cat as if he would make me pay for
every insult, every spurning, every closed door he had ever suffered. And
afterwards, when the blood ran freely and my skin was in rags, they made
me watch while they coupled.
"His lusts satisfied, Ravensbrook got up to leave. 'I must go find some
blood to keep him going,' he said, stroking my hair. He turned his eyes
on Talbot, still lying in bliss on the bed. 'You may amuse yourself with
him, if it pleases you.' With that, he left the room.
"When I knew he was truly gone, I tried to appeal to this debauched boy,
even though I knew it would be useless. He was my only chance.
"'Help me,' I begged him, through the pain.
"'Did you speak, milord?' mocked the player, sitting upright in the bed.
"'Please help me,' I tried again, although I knew there would be no
help from such a one.
"'Oh, you want me to help you!' Talbot tumbled out of the bed and walked
over to the stocks. 'Does it gall, oh most noble Baron, that you must beg
for help from a lowly player's boy?'
"I coughed, spasming in pain. Blood dribbled from my lips. "'Please,' I
said. 'You are English. Help me.'
"'Oh, yes, milord, I am English. And as much beneath your notice as a
stray dog. Were we to meet on the street in London, Baron, you would whip
me from your path. What matters it to you that there are children begging
in the gutters, so long as your dinner awaits you in your warm ancestral
hall? I, help you?'" He declared, "'I would help you to the kiss of
sunlight, save I have no desire to take your place as Ravensbrook's
plaything.'
"Talbot spat and said no more. He left when Ravensbrook returned to the
room, hurriedly donning his clothes. Ravensbrook taunted him for this
desertion, but did not pursue him.
"'What a tiresome child,' my bloodmaster said. 'Still, I predict a dark
future for him if continues on his present path. I will keep an eye on
him... it would not do for me to have a rival, now, would it?'
"'Yours?' I dared to ask.
"My sire laughed. "'No, young lord, not my get. He is the spawn of old
Carrock, who rather stupidly allowed a rival master to stick a crossbow
bolt into him. It left that arrogant young pup masterless. He seems to
need someone to belong to, but he does not seem to fancy me. Pity. I did
my best to cater to his debauched tastes.'
"He held out the goblet he had brought with him, and I drank the blood
forced on me. I never again saw the player in Ravensbrook's company.
"I had hoped that he had somehow angered my sire, and that Ravensbrook had
killed him," Gideon said to Pandora, as his narrative of remembered terror
ended. "But no, over the years and decades I heard tales of Adrian
Talbot, the actor vampire; and each tale confirmed his amorality. Imagine
how I felt when he set foot upon that stage at the Golden Fangs! And when
we met, face-to- face again..." He slowly steadied himself and looked at
Pandora. "Now you know why I advise you not to trust him with your
child," he said.
Pandora was silent, absorbing the information Gideon had shared. During
the telling she had often flinched, her body reacting with sympathetic
pain to that which Gideon had endured. Now she sat very still, hands
folded in her lap, eyes cast downwards. She had expected to hear
something of this nature, but knew that nothing could have truly prepared
her to deal with the absolute horror of the actuality. She knew there was
little she could do to comfort Gideon; no way to erase a lingering pain
from a scar long- yet ill- healed. He spoke of echoes, of memories traced
into tissue. These things the body remembered, even if the mind failed.
And Gideon had not told her this for comfort, but for warning. She had,
after all, insisted.
Gideon gazed at her as if expecting her to speak. When she did not, he
broke the silence. " Well?" he asked calmly.
Pandora looked up at him through tear-blurred eyes. "I--I don't know- -"
she broke off, words eluding her.
"Will you still allow Adrian to visit?" Gideon asked pointedly.
Pandora swallowed hard to dissolve the lump in her throat, but when she
spoke her voice was husky. "Yes, Gideon."
"Pandora, did you not hear--?"
She interrupted by lifting her hand. "I heard and felt everything," she
said softly, wincing slightly as if in emphasis.
She sighed. It was not her place to try to defend Adrian, even if she
could. Truth was, she knew the man Gideon spoke of was unquestionably
Adrian, that, even with the considerable changes the man had been through
in the last few years, _that_ Adrian still existed within the complex
layers which had been built over the many years. Adrian, the consummate
actor, who used others before they could use him. Who expected nothing
more than manipulation and gave nothing less. And in that lay the crux,
really, for it was clear to her that the Adrian Gideon had encountered had
been playing a role for Ravensbrook. His reasons were unclear to her, but
no doubt self-preservation was a primary motivation. Only in hearing
Adrian's side of the story could she hope to come to at least an
approximation of the truth, of what the incident truly imported.
"I do not comprehend cruelty, Gideon, in any guise or for any reason. I
understand your feelings towards Adrian," she paused, laying a hand over
his own and squeezing briefly before standing.
She paced over to a lovely old French rose, lightly fingering a silken
blush blossom whose petals drifted to the floor at her touch. She turned
back to face the Baron.
" But I have made my own decision about this man based on what I have come
to know of him, on how I have come to know him personally. While what you
have told me raises questions, certainly, it does not change my
fundamental acceptance of him. I consider him a friend, Gideon. That is
not something which comes lightly for me in any circumstance."
"And am I not your friend as well? Would you trust him over me?"
Gideon asked pointedly, still seated calmly on the bench.
Pandora shook her head sadly. "It is not a matter of trust, Gideon. The
trustworthiness of a friend is not something that can be quantified or
compared. In the naming of one as "friend," it implies, for me, that
there is trust. It exists without the asking, without the proving. I
would like to speak with Adrian about this, if I may--"
Gideon sighed. "You do not need my permission to speak with
whomever you wish, Pandora."
She held his gaze. "For this, I do. It concerns you."
He squared his shoulders. It had been a long, long time even as
vampires measured time. The memories would never fade, never
heal; the hatred for Ravensbrook and his ilk still burned even
though the bloodmaster was ashes and gone. Gideon's immortal
flesh showed no scars from his time in the Keep, always he had
been healed before being tortured again. His mind, his spirit... the
scars there were deep and still pained him. It had been extremely
difficult talking about his experiences to Pandora, and that had
been only one small part of his torment in his master's hands.
Yet... it was true, sharing the pain with someone else had
lessened it. Perhaps he could face his memories, his hate; one
aspect of them at least. Perhaps he could learn the other side of
the story after over three hundred years of hating.
"Yes," he said softly. "Speak to him."
******
Adrian stood up and paced to the fireplace, idly picking up the iron
poker and shifting the burning logs. Then he turned to Pandora,
having gathered his thoughts.
'I should never let him rehearse,' she thought ruefully. 'He will give
me the dramatic version now.'
He walked over to where she sat on the new sofa and plunked
himself down beside her. "I was very stupid when I was young," he
stated without preamble. "Oh, I know, I'm still stupid; but
compared to when I was first turned, I'm a pure genius now."
"Backhanded fishing for compliments isn't allowed," said Pandora
mock-sternly. "Just tell me, Adrian; don't try to justify it."
"I am not justifying," he said. "I am explaining. My vampiric sire
was slain by an enemy of his, not very long after I was turned. His
killer kept us--myself and T'Beth--as trophies for awhile, then turned
us loose. T'Beth didn't want me hanging around her, and I had
nobody else to turn to. I stayed in England for awhile, drifting from
company to company, but always moving on before my new nature
could be discovered. Shakespeare was not a stupid man. I wanted
to... well, belong to somebody. I always had, you know, and it
didn't feel right not to have... a master. Of any kind.
"So I went searching for one. I met one or two other vampires.
Some avoided me, they could sense I was trouble all wrapped up in
one neat little package. But I heard rumours... I'm sure you know
that vampires are the worst gossips in history. Rumours reached
me of a powerful, sadistic vampire in France. I craved to be
dominated. I set out to find this... de Sade of the undead.
"He was not hard to find, although he seemed to have several
different names. Etienne Corbeau. Kent Ravensbrook. Others.
But one only had to set foot in the Loire Valley to feel his power,
like a cancer hanging from the very grape vines. I found his Keep
easily--what a perfect setting for the type of master I thought I
sought! And he welcomed me gladly, as much in search of novelty
and the depraved as I was."
Adrian straightened and turned his gaze on Pandora. There was
nothing in it but self-mockery as he said, "He was a little too
depraved, even for me."
"Did you ever meet Ravensbrook?" Adrian asked his audience of
one.
Pandora shook her head. "No, he was already True Dead by the
time I met the Baron."
"Ah. He was a beautiful man, Niamh. Much taller than I, somehow
both more and less effeminate at the same time. And those eyes
of his... you would do anything for him. I do not know his story,
what made him what he was. Does it matter? He was evil. And he
rejoiced in it--not one of your angsting, self-hating vampires, our
Kent."
Adrian's smile was self-deprecating, but Pandora didn't believe him
for a second. Adrian rejoiced in what he was, all his angst was for
show. But evil? No. Ravensbrook had been pure evil, from what
little she knew about him. She remembered Gideon's voice as he'd
told her of only one night in his sire's grim care, and shuddered.
"But you tried to join with him, anyway," she said out loud. "Why?"
"Because he was so beautiful, and masterful," Adrian said.
"Because I needed a master, and I did not then know the sheer
nakedness of his depravity. I learned quickly, however, that I was
in well over my foolish head. He welcomed me--I was someone
new, and pretty. He told me he had a favourite toy already, though,
his 'little catamite'. I thought he meant a child, that's what the term
usually means. He wanted to know if I wished to play with this pet
of his. I said yes, because I thought if it was a child, I would free it,
no matter what Ravensbrook would do to me. My days of hurting
children were over, though if the only way I could free it was to kill
it, then I would do so. Already, after only a few hours in that
dreadful place, I knew that Ravensbrook was far more evil and cruel
than even rumour gave him credit for, and that there was little hope
of escape should I cross him."
Adrian took a sip of the contents of his glass which, ironically,
Pandora had obtained from the Baron. She, in turn, sipped her
Glenfiddich.
"So there I was, at the mercy of this sadistic vampire. I followed
him to a bedroom that was more like a dungeon, full of whips and
chains and things the Inquisition might have used. He bade me
undress, and I thought perhaps that he had lied, and that he would
use some of those things on me. There were one or two I wouldn't
have minded... ah, no matter. I was afraid, Niamh, afraid of this
powerful vampire, afraid of that keep, afraid for my life and my skin.
However, he did not touch me, save with his hands and lips, and
then just when he had teased me to the point where I was
trembling with desire, he left. He was back within a short time,
dragging with him his promised 'little catamite'. This was no child;
though he was very young, he was a grown man. He was not even
all that handsome, though he had nice eyes when I got the chance
to see them. Obviously, he was terrified of Ravensbrook, terrified
to the point of numb, unquestioning obedience. Still, though he was
beaten and frightened, there was an air about him that I knew, for I
had copied it often enough on the stage. It takes more than a
Ravensbrook to kill the spirit of aristocracy.
"'Did I not promise you fine entertainment, my dear boy?'
Ravensbrook asked me.
"'What is this?' I asked him. 'Is this your pet?'
"I felt those great dark eyes look up at me when I spoke.
"'This is my greatest treasure,' Ravensbrook said, patting the
young man's cheek. 'My own little catamite, my pet aristocrat.'
"'Aristocrat?' I echoed, thinking what a sorry pass one of the
haughty nobles had come to.
"'Ah, thought that would interest you,' Ravensbrook said to me.
'Yes, dear Adrian, this is a member of the vaunted ruling class, one
of those lordly beings who would spit on a mere actor. A lowly
Baron, mind you, but still far above a wandering player." He
grabbed the wretch by the hair, forcing his chin up. "And he is a
Puritan, is that not delicious?'
"Puritan! Puritans had closed the theatres, forcing players into
poverty and a life of wandering misery. Puritans were indirectly
responsible for my becoming a vampire; for had the theatres not
closed, I would not have been forced to seek a patron. This
stranger had two strikes against him already, but he was too
beaten for me to hate.
"'Oh, aye?' I asked, feigning interest. "What is his name and title,
then?' I got off the bed, so as to have a closer look at this toy of
his.
"'Baron Gideon Redoak,' Ravensbrook smiled. 'Or what's left of
him. Young lord, this is my newest friend, Adrian Talbot. He's one
of those players that your religion would have put in the stocks and
whipped.'
"I turned my head away, for I could sense what was coming.
"'You already have provided the stocks, I see,' I said. 'And the
whipping?'
"'I thought I would give you the honours,' Ravensbrook said. He
turned to a rack that held assorted whips, straps and other such
implements. 'It would be the cat, would it not?' he inquired,
fingering the dreadful nine-tailed whip in question.
"I nodded. A cat o' nine tails is a dreadful weapon, Niamh, it leaves
a man's flesh in tatters. I had no desire to use it on that poor boy
in the stocks, but Ravensbrook pressed the stock into my hands
with such force that I knew he meant to use it on me should I
refuse to obey him.
"I wanted to free that young man. But I knew that if I even tried, I
would take his place, and that his master would devise unthinkable
things to do to me. I always have been something of a coward. I
did the only thing I could, and tried not to lay on the whip too
heavily. But Ravensbrook watched every move we both made, as if
he knew what I was thinking. Perhaps he did, he had powers the
like of which I have never encountered since. I had to draw blood,
to leave that young vampire a beaten hulk."
He emptied his glass, and stared at the bottom of it. "Then
Ravensbrook took me to his bed," he said simply, "and we had
sex, even while the young Baron hung in chains and bled.
"His lusts satisfied, Ravensbrook got up to leave. 'I must go find
some blood to keep him going,' he said, going over and caressing
that bleeding hulk as if he had not just forced me to flay him. He
turned his eyes on me. 'You may amuse yourself with him, if it
pleases you. But if he dies the true death, you take his place.'
With that, he left the room.
"'Help me,' the "catamite" demanded.
"'You heard him,' I replied.
"'Please help me,' he tried begging this time.
"'I am sorry to see you reduced to begging for help,' I told him. 'But
I cannot help you.'
"He coughed, and blood went splattering everywhere. "'Please,' he
said. 'You are English. Help me.'
"I thought I heard Ravensbrook's footsteps in the hallway, so I
spoke loudly when I answered.
"'Oh, yes, milord, I am English. And as much beneath your notice
as a stray dog. Were we to meet on the street in London, Baron,
you would whip me from your path. What matters it to you that
there are children begging in the gutters, so long as your dinner
awaits you in your warm ancestral hall? I, help you?'" I leaned in
and whispered in his ear, "'I dare not. It would be the true death of
us both.' More loudly, for Ravensbrook's benefit, I said, "'I would
help you to the kiss of sunlight, save I have no desire to take your
place as Ravensbrook's plaything.'
"Neither of us said more, and I left when Ravensbrook came back
with blood for his pet." He got up and poured himself a shot from
the bottle of scotch. "That keep was a dark and terrible place,
Niamh, I was lucky to escape. It seems that Ravensbrook had left
orders I was to be unmolested if I left, provided I was alone. Had I
tried to take the Baron with me, I am convinced that neither of us
would have survived. There were things guarding that keep, things
that I am not certain even Ravensbrook fully controlled."
Pandora thought of the cleansing of the keep, of the entity that had
attacked and killed three vampires, and left Genevieve with a scar
and Evan with a dislocated shoulder. Michael had told her of the
impressions he'd felt when he'd opened the keep up and let green
things grow there. The place had had evil imbedded in the very
stones, he said. She didn't tell Adrian this, however.
"So," Adrian said, swilling down the Scotch, "that is *my* side of
the story."
Pandora nodded and refreshed her drink. She sat back in her
chair, staring thoughtfully into the amber contents of her glass. It
had been difficult to hear the tale again, difficult to hear of Gideon's
pain and suffering. One thing was clear, however; the stories were
essentially the same, only the perspective differed, just as she had
suspected. She took a sip of her scotch and then spoke.
"You realize that Gideon would not have been able to perceive that
you were acting a role," she stated quietly.
"And yet, how much was made of my being a player," Adrian said,
and Pandora could almost taste the steel of his irony.
"Yet your whip was not a prop," Pandora pointed out. "And
Gideon may have been a captive audience," she paused,
grimacing at her unintentional pun, "but not a very sophisticated
one. Pain has a way of levelling class inequities."
Adrian indicated acquiescence to her point with a simple nod of his
head. "You can make him understand," he said, and it was not
quite a question.
The healer sighed and stood, pacing restlessly to the fireplace just
as Adrian had before her.
"No, Adrian. _You_ must make him understand," she responded,
turning to look at him pointedly.
Adrian turned the full force of his gaze on her, but she was impervious.
"You have got to be kidding," he said. "He'll kill me as soon as look at
me."
"Not if he's willing to listen to what you have to say. This animosity
is eating him up. He's properly buried so much of his past with
Ravensbrook; this is a long missing pound of flesh that needs to be
committed to the earth or it will continue to torment him every time
he sees you or hears your name."
"And you think he will truly listen to me? That he'll believe me?"
Adrian looked incredulous.
Pandora absently picked at some wax drippings on a pewter
candlestick. "Can you convince him that you were acting then, but
not acting now..." she pondered aloud. "Tell me, if you are willing
to speak with him, then what do you feel you have to gain by doing
so? By convincing him? If he thinks you are in any way doing this
for your own gain, then it won't work."
"You mean, what would it mean to me to form a truce with the
illustrious Baron Redoak?" Adrian kept the sneer from his face,
but his tone carried the bitterness of wormwood.
"Yes."
Silence. "Four hundred years, Niamh," he said. "Four hundred years of
being called That Actor, of having him revile me for something that was no
fault of mine. You ask me what I have to gain? I don't hope to make him a
friend, but I would like to stop having him as an enemy. I hope to gain
some sort of... oh, I don't know... understanding? Peace? I want to tell
him to his face that I didn't _want_ to pick up that whip. I want him to
know that I wanted to rescue him. But he'll never listen to me. Not him,
up in his ivory tower."
"You may be surprised," the healer replied. "I think he might be ready to
listen. You forget that I've heard both sides of the same story, and I
think the truth lies somewhere in the middle, as it usually does. You both
need to meet in that middle. But what are you really hoping for? Because
if you want to do this just so that you can call him names..."
Adrian held up a hand. "Oh, God, don't remind me of that stupid award
ceremony. I got what I deserved for that. I don't know what I'm hoping
for." He gave her a smile robbed of his usual roguishness. "Healing,
perhaps?" He toyed with his now-empty glass. "I just know I'm willing to
try." He stared at the wall, and Pandora knew that he was not looking at
paint and plaster.
"I have so few friends," he said. "I don't hope to make the Baron one, but
at least I can cross one enemy off my list. And Jake likes him..." he
shrugged, a bit embarrassed to be showing so much of the real Adrian to
this quiet woman. "Hey, I've dropped my trousers for you," he said
lightly. "Guess I should drop a couple of masks, too. Like I said, I want
to try."
"I'll speak with him then...or better yet, someone who has more
influence with him than anyone," Pandora announced, and
immediately crossed to the corner of the room and picked up the
phone.
******
Joshua set down the phone and studied his husband thoughtfully. Approach
this the wrong way, and Gideon would get all stubborn and prideful, and
nothing at all would be accomplished. The very name of Adrian Talbot
would be like the proverbial red flag. Hmmm...
"Gideon," said the recently-turned vampire to the far older one. "What
would you say was the far better choice between truth or memory?"
The Baron's expression was wary when he replied, "Why?"
"Memories can be false," Josh said. "Wouldn't you rather know the truth
than keep a false memory?"
Gideon sighed and put down the financial section of the newspaper. "This
is about That Actor, isn't it?"
"Would you be willing to go over to Meadowsweet Ridge and just talk to the
man?" Josh asked, rubbing Gideon's shoulders affectionately. "Please?"
"Absolutely not."
"Please?"
"Why is this so important to you?" Gideon asked, surprised at this
wheedling on behalf of a man Joshua barely knew.
"Because it's eating you up. You can't keep on hating him for centuries,
Gideon. Whatever happened between you... and I don't want to know if you
aren't willing to tell me, it's over and done with. The past is the past.
I've learned that lesson in under a year as a vampire. There's no sense in
holding such an old grudge, is there?"
"You don't know what he did to me!" Gideon let the newspaper slip out of
his grasp. "There are reasons, Joshua! Why does nobody see that?"
"All I see is how much this is hurting you." Joshua picked up the paper
and put it safely on Gideon's desk. "Have you ever thought that maybe he
had a reason for whatever it was he did? Adrian's a complex man. I sensed
something at Christmas, when you two shook hands, something that suggested
that the two of you should move in a new direction. Maybe it's time to heal."
Gideon buried his head in his hands. "There is no healing for some pasts,"
he whispered.
"What can it hurt to try?"
The Baron's head lifted. "Did Pandora say that Talbot was willing?"
"Yes."
"Then I can be no less."
Josh hugged him. "Atta boy." He grinned and went off in search of his car
keys.
***
At Meadowsweet Ridge, Pandora made her guests as comfortable as possible in
an awkward situation. She signalled to Jake and Josh that they should make
themselves scarce after a few moments of socializing, and the two men
followed her out. Not without some anxious looks back!
"Maybe we should have just given them a couple of pairs of boxing gloves,"
Jake said as the door to the den closed behind them, leaving Gideon and Adrian alone.
"Or duelling pistols," Josh suggested.
"And give me more work to do?" Pandora asked, shooing them further away
from the room where the two old enemies were sequestered. "Now, be good
and come along with me to the kitchen. Jake, I'm sure you must be hungry..."
But she, as much as the two other men, longed to be a fly on the wall in
that room when Gideon and Adrian finally talked.
++++
Silence stretched, elastic-like, between the two men. It was not a
comfortable silence. Adrian studied his fingernails. Gideon stared into
space. Not even the sound of breathing allieviated the deadly quiet.
Then, finally, a statement.
"You left me there." It wasn't an accusation. It was fact, and Gideon
delivered it tonelessly.
"And what did you expect me to do?" Adrian demanded, eyes flashing.
"Rescue you? How could I have?"
"You did not even try," Gideon countered.
"Had I tried," Adrian went on, "I'd have been suffering with you. Is your
memory so clouded that you don't remember what that place was like? Your
bloodmaster was a savage bastard with more guards than the president. I
was lucky to get out of there alone, never mind trying to drag his
favourite toy with me. We'd both have been torn to shreds."
Gideon turned his head away, trying to force the memories of Ravensbrook
back into dormancy. But they had awakened, and the echoes of old screams
rang in his head.
"I begged you to help me," he said.
"Yes, you did," came the terse answer. "Do you remember my reply?"
Silence for a moment, while a true memory played back in Gideon's mind's
eye. "Yes," he admitted painfully.
"And?" Adrian pressed, wanting the admission.
"You said 'I dare not.'"
Adrian's eyes bored into Gideon's, even from across the room. "Do you
really think I didn't want to get you out of there? Christ, that place was
hell! But I had no choice."
"Self-preservation has always been your highest priority, hasn't it, Talbot?"
"Yes."
Gideon could only shake his head.
"Oh, so it's time to play 'holier than thou', is it?" Adrian asked. "And
what have you done but looked out for yourself over the years?"
"The Brotherhood..."
The actor snorted. "Bunch of do-gooder do-nothings. The chief reason you
joined was for protection, wasn't it? And what is it your precious
Brotherhood does? Help only those you think are worthy, and harrass anyone
who doesn't fit into your narrow standards of acceptable vampire behaviour."
"That is not true." Gideon struggled to hold his temper. "You know
nothing about us if that is what you believe."
"And what do you know of me?" Adrian countered. "'That Actor', you call
me, as if actors were vermin. Well, I hate to be the one to break this to
you, Baron, but the Puritan edict against players was revoked a long time
ago. Actors are allowed to mingle in public these days. I'm an accredited
university professor, a director, an anthropologist and I could probably
still brew a mean batch of bathtub gin from the days I ran a speakeasy; so
I'm more than just an actor. Maybe I haven't lead an exemplary life
according to your standards. But, damn it, I've lived! I've had
adventures and love affairs by the score; and I've been to places you've
probably never heard of."
Gideon's eyebrows raised at this, but he said nothing. Adrian had centre
stage and wasn't about to surrender the spotlight.
"You know what I think, Baron?" the actor went on. "I think you're jealous
of me."
That did provoke a disbelieving, wordless exclamation.
"Sure," Adrian went on, gaining confidence. "I'm free, and you aren't. It
started then, didn't it? You hate me because I was free to walk out of
Ravensbrook's control and you weren't. And now I'm free to do what I want
or go where I please, and you're stuck with the hidebound old Brotherhood
and your precious reputation.
"So your bloodmaster was a monster. So fucking what? So was mine. He
didn't use whips. He didn't have to. I don't let the memories get to me.
Maybe I don't have a centuries-old pedigree, my bloodlines traced back to
Noah as if I was some kind of prize breeding dog, but I've got as much
right to live my life the way I want as any damned aristocrat. You have no
right to pass judgement on me."
Gideon's first reaction, firmly suppressed, was to burst into applause. He
decided instead to reply in kind.
"But you have the right to pass judgement on me, is that right?" he countered.
"I may not dislike you for your profession or your hedonistic lifestyle,
but you are allowed to sneer at my title and my way of life? Is that the
bargain? Because if it is, it's a pretty poor one. I did not ask to be
born to the aristocracy any more than you asked to be born the offspring of
a prostitute. In the brief time I was the Baron of Redoak, I did the best
I knew how for my tenants. I never once, to my knowledge, harmed a
wandering player; nor did I ever embrace the Puritan church's teachings.
You mock me for my wealth, for my quiet life, for my membership in the
Brotherhood.
"Professor Talbot... I wonder if it is not you who are jealous."
Adrian snorted.
"I have something you lack, Professor. And you feel that lack, whether or
not you choose to admit it."
"Oh?" Adrian drawled sarcastically. "And what might this mythical lack be?
Money? Blue blood?"
"Security," Gideon replied.
Adrian bowed his head, acknowledging the truth of this. "Security," he
said. "And a damned good-looking lover."
"That, too." Try as he might, Gideon couldn't keep a hint of smugness out
of his reply. "But you are the one who bragged of countless love affairs."
"Let's not allow this to dissolve into one-upmanship, Baron," Adrian said,
heading that subject off at the pass so that he wouldn't have to discuss
his bisexuality with a man who'd stuck to one gender. "We've steered very
far away from that miserable dungeon in France, haven't we?"
"Yes, we have. Talbot... Adrian... forgive me."
'Forgive you?" Adrian's jaw dropped. "For what?"
"Being wrong, all these centuries. I... I thought you had enjoyed what you
did to me."
"Forgive me," Adrian replied, "for doing it in the first place."
Gideon held out his hand. "Truce?" he asked.
Adrian's own hand reached out, grasped the offered one. "Truce," he
agreed. "Thank you, Gideon."
"Thank you, Adrian."
They walked towards the shut door, once more in silence, but this one was
no longer tense. There was the sharp smell of relief in the room, of
tensions unwound, of healing begun. As Gideon's hand reached for the
doorknob, Adrian couldn't resist testing this new truce.
"So, Gideon," he said as the door to the rest of Meadowsweet Ridge opened
and three expectant faces popped into the kitchen doorway. "Would you and
Josh like tickets to my next production? I'm doing _Dracula_."
(
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geocities.com/soho)