Lure of the Night Read online

  She got up and came to sit next to me in the seat that was now free. She must have seen my look because she said quickly, “Don’t worry, I know you’re not a dyke. I’m not either, I just thought you might want someone to chat to, it’s a long journey.”

  Her name was Olivia, she was a writer, she said, going to New Orleans to research a new book.

  “It’s a book about the occult,” she said. “You know, black magic, vampires and things like that. Do you know much about those things?”

  She looked at me closely as she asked that but I shook my head. “Sorry, no.”

  “Well, there are so many fascinating stories and people that seem to be found in that city, I’m hoping that I’ll get a lot of material for my book.”

  “What sort of stuff have you been looking at?” I asked her.

  “Oh, everything, witches, wizards, voodoo, vampires. Spells and sorcery, it’s amazing how many people still believe in all of that stuff.”

  Isn’t it just, I thought. How would you like the name of a certain priest, for starters? The bus droned on, I didn’t say anything for a while, I just didn’t want her to think I had any great interest in the supernatural, people always wanted to suck you dry if they thought you had something they wanted. I felt her looking at me again.

  “Do you believe in those things at all, Claire?”

  I shook my head, “No, not really. I mean, none of it is true, is it?”

  “I don’t know. I have been researching for the past eight months and seen some odd things, really odd. I spent some time in Europe looking at vampire legends and a lot of people over there believe it’s real enough.”

  I forced a grin on my face. “I think it is all bullshit, but I guess some of these people will believe anything.”

  “Possibly. I met a young man over there, he looked younger than me. It turned out he came to America once.”

  I nodded. Thrilling.

  “During our War of Independence, he was a French soldier, came over here to fight.”

  “But that was more than two hundred years ago.”

  “Yes, I know. He was as Bunker Hill, described it quite accurately too.”

  “But that’s impossible,” I said.

  “I know.”

  Olivia gave me her card, her full name was printed on it, Olivia Constable, with the subtitle ‘Historian’. It had her cell number on it and she told me to get in touch if I fancied meeting up for a drink or something in New Orleans. I had a few days to think about it, I told her I probably would. I had made up my mind I probably would not. Then I put my head against the headrest and dropped off into a troubled sleep, every time I dozed, the bus hit a bump in the road and I came half-awake.

  My dream was really weird, I was in New Orleans, I’d been kidnapped, staked out, tied on a Satanic altar, there was a nasty looking guy standing over me with a knife to stick in me. His face was blurred at first then cleared into the face of Father Ben Ryan, crazed, maddened, evil. He brought the knife down at the last moment a hand grabbed it, twisted and the knife fell away. My rescuer freed me from my bonds, took me in his arms and carried me out of the dark place where I had been held. Behind us someone was howling in pain, it was Father Ryan. I looked up at the face of my knight in shining armor and it was Ethan, looking godlike and determined, strong and speedy, carrying me to safety. Then I woke as the bus gave a particularly strong lurch. I wondered when I would see Ethan again. He was alive I was absolutely certain, but that posed a problem. If he was alive, that meant he could not be killed, and if he couldn’t be killed, then what?

  We were almost there Olivia asked me if I was ok. I told her yes, I was puzzled why she should ask me that question, I’d made it pretty clear I wasn’t a runaway.

  “You were calling out in your sleep, shouting at one point, but I didn’t want to wake you. Something about ‘he cannot die’, over and over again. Strange, that’s what the people who claim knowledge of vampires say, you know, ‘he cannot die’.”

  I shrugged. “Well I’m not a vampire.”

  She smiled. “Of course you’re not. So you are staying with your father in New Orleans?”

  “Yes, that’s right, he’s meeting me at the bus station.”

  “Well, I hope you have a good time, I’m a bit nervous myself. They say that it can be dangerous if you look in the wrong places, I honestly don’t know what I’m going to find.”

  “I doubt it’s much different to any other city in the US, apart from the music, of course. I think you will find the magic thing is all a bit of a myth. One for the tourists.”

  She laughed. “I’m sure you’re right, but just in case, I’ve taken precautions.”

  “Really, what sort of precautions?”

  “Like this,” she pulled the collar of her blouse to one side, she was wearing a tiny vial, a miniature glass bottle on the end of a chain. It hung down between her cleavage. “It’s holy water, it came from the shrine at Lourdes in France.”

  “Right.”

  She smiled at my singularly unimpressed response. “Well, ok, it may all be nonsense, but you never know. I’ve got this, too.” Behind the collar of her jacket she had a herb, fastened with a safety pin. “It’s garlic, it’s supposed to keep vampires at bay.”

  “Ok, well I hope it works for you.”

  I did wonder though, how did she know my name, I didn’t remember telling her it and how the hell could people believe in this rubbish, it was crazy? Like Father Ryan and his exorcism. The best place for that nonsense was in the garbage, he should stop frightening teenage girls. The bus was driving through the city now and a few minutes later we were pulling into the bus station. Dad was waiting there for me with Megan, they both waved. I climbed off the bus and Dad went to get my bag from the luggage compartment, Megan gave me a hug.

  “Lovely to see you, Claire, you’ll love this city, I know you will. I can’t wait to show you the sights.”

  A funny thing, Olivia came past, recognized me. “Have a great time, Claire.”

  As she walked past, Megan seemed to veer away from her. Then she looked at Olivia’s retreating back, it was not a pleasant look, there was a brief stab of anger passed across her face, then there was a look of pure hatred, then it was gone and she was smiling again. Oh well, this was New Orleans.

  Chapter 5

  Their apartment was neat, not huge but kind of classy, just off the French Quarter. We had to park a couple of hundred yards away and as we walked to their home, I was hit by the sounds and smells of New Orleans. Jazz, spicy food and more jazz. Wonderful. The building was old, a walk up and they were on the third floor. We climbed the stairs and I walked through the front door into a world of wooden paneling, classy looking paintings on the wall and objects of art, sculptures and stuff like that scattered around. It was so cool, I wasn’t an expert but none of the artworks looked like copies or reproductions. They were all so old, rich with a sheen of age that I imagined would be difficult to fake. I sat on their sofa, almost sat in it, it was so soft, luxurious, and old. Even in here the faint sounds of jazz music percolated through the windows, so that you always knew where you were. They showed me to the spare bedroom and I took a shower and changed into my clothes, short black skirt, black t-shirt, a clean hoodie, the one I’d worn on the trip was creased to hell and Doc Martens. I had bought my own pantyhose, I hadn’t let Mom see them, the diamond pattern she would reckon was hooker-chic. Tough. For me, they were Claire chic.

  “You look nice,” Megan said when I went into the living room.

  “You sure do honey,” Dad chipped in. “What would you like to do today, your first day in town?”

  “I want to talk to you, Dad.”

  “Sure, honey, what about?”

  “Oh, nothing special. Let’s kick off with crazy Catholic priests. Then we can follow up with vampires, the Andros family and then move on to the island of Andros.”

  They looked at each other. Megan shrugged. “She isn’t a baby, Guy. She’s got a right to know
everything. Well, almost everything.”

  Dad nodded. “Ok, first of all, Ben Ryan. He came to our town straight out of the seminary. He hated me from the start, told everyone I had ‘something of the night’ about me. So he made my life a misery, I guess, or at least, he tried to. He is not really a Catholic priest, that’s just a cover. For us he’s the enemy.”

  “You don’t say, I think I worked that one out. But tell me, is there?”

  “Is there what?”

  “Something of the night about you?”

  He took a deep sigh. “Hmm, well, yes, I guess there is, yeah, that wouldn’t be a million miles from the truth.”

  “And?”

  “Look, we’ll go out tonight and I’ll explain more about that, about my early life. What’s the next question?”

  “The Andros family.”

  “Oh yeah, right. Well, they’re from Andros, the Greek island. Some of the family is Amstrydae, some Ardethan.”

  “What the hell are Amstrydae and Ardethans, Dad?”

  “Er, well they’re people that exhibit vampire-like tendencies.”

  “So Ethan Andros is a vampire, is that what you’re telling me?”

  “Ethan, eh? So that’s what this is about. I guess you could say that in some people’s eyes he has those tendencies. He is Amstrydae, of course, but not exactly a vampire, that’s a bit of a myth.”

  “Guy!” Megan warned. He looked guilty. “Yeah, ok. Well, that’s not strictly true, but we don’t call them vampires as such.”

  “So what do you call them?”

  “Like I said, we call ourselves Amstrydae and Ardethans, they’re very, very old names that cover pretty well what people nowadays might call vampires, although we’re nothing like the way they’re portrayed.”

  “So what’s the difference between the two, Ardethans and Amstrydae?”

  “Right, well, I guess it’s that the Amstrydae are somewhat more powerful than we are, but other than that we’re broadly similar,” Dad said.

  “Are you a vampire then?” I asked, staring at him directly. “Don’t lie to me, Dad!”

  “No, no,” he said hurriedly. “Well, maybe. Yeah, I guess in some sense of the word I am. I’m what you would be considered an Ardethan. Yeah, we have been described as vampires I guess. We live alongside the Amstrydae. It’s a kind of symbiotic relationship, they help us, and we help them, often our people intermingle, marry, stuff like that.”

  I turned to Megan. “You, too?”

  She nodded, "Yep, I’m an Ardethan through and through.”

  I was getting somewhere at last. So there were no vampires, although some people had characteristics of vampires and they were called the Amstrydae and the Ardethans. Which were vampires. Right, that was quite simple, it was what Dad said people meant when they talked about vampires.

  “What are the characteristics of these people then, I mean, you people?”

  “On the negative side some of us have photophobia, where we can react to strong sunlight, those of us that do have to wear thick, tinted glasses during the day.”

  “Right, so what about the other side, the positive side, what are the benefits?”

  “Oh no, there are no specific powers that we have, we’re just different, well, there are one or two things.”

  “Like you can’t die?”

  “Well, no, that’s not entirely true. But we do have much longer lives, yes, hundreds of years in some cases, but there are ways that we can die, or be killed.”

  “Anything else?” I persisted. I was obviously going to have to drag it out of them.

  “Well, just a few things, night vision, some of us have extreme strength and speed, some of us can communicate on the subconscious level, like in dreams.”

  So it was Ethan in my dream, he was really there.

  “So apart from a few minor things, like being able to see in pitch black conditions, heightened sense of smell, living extra long lives, virtually impossible to die and powers of supernatural communication, there really aren’t any benefits to being one of these Amstrydae or whatever people?”

  “No, that about sums it up.”

  Jesus Christ, it was so amazing, and yet they seemed to matter of fact about it.

  “Dad, I have to know, do you drink blood?”

  “Blood? Well, yes, we do I guess, but not the way people think. And if you mean do we attack people and take a bite out of their necks, that’s laughable.”

  “Any other powers, that you haven’t told me about?”

  “Some of us, especially Amstrydae, have other supernatural abilities. Look, you’ve learned enough for now, we’ll talk about it later and I’ll tell you anything you want to know.”

  There was plenty I wanted to know, but for now he was right, I had opened the lid on this whole business and I needed time to absorb what they had told me. My Dad a vampire? Wow!

  The room had grown cold, really cold. It seemed strange, New Orleans was not such a cold place as a rule. They noticed it too. Dad went and looked out of the window and looked across the street.

  “That woman you were with on the bus with, did you know her?”

  “Not before, no.”

  I told him about meeting her on the bus, her telling me she was researching for a book.

  “She’s across the street. With our old friend, Father Ryan.”

  I felt too fed up to be frightened, fed up with these oddballs who just couldn’t get a life, they seemed to be determined to be professional nuisances. And they seemed to be attracted to me like twisted lumps of iron to a magnet. “What do we do now?”

  “We do nothing,” Megan said. “They’re just bullies, they’ll only be satisfied if we notice them, they get off on frightening people. Ignore them and they’ll go away.”

  I saw Dad’s expression, he looked dubious, but there was little else to be done right now. I knew then that there was much more to this story than they had let on so far, much more.

  “Do you feel up to going out, shall we do the tour of the city?” Dad asked.

  I nodded. “Yeah, ok.”

  “Let’s go then. Do you have a coat?”

  I shook my head.

  “Ok, I’ll buy you something, after all, I am your father.”

  Megan looked out of the window, the two watchers had disappeared and we were able to relax, at least a little, and I was able to enjoy doing the tourist bit. They bought me a black leather biker-style jacket that I wore over my hoodie. I checked it all out in the store mirror, it looked cool and cost my father a small fortune, it was a genuine designer jacket. I began to feel better, this was a good start to my visit. We checked out the old French Quarter and I was astonished to see the number of what they called jazz cafes. It looked like people here were born with a musical instrument in their hands, it was the main occupation of the city, or so it seemed. And of course there were the shops selling paranormal paraphernalia, black magic gadgetry, everything from a packet of spider’s cobwebs to a set of robes for a voodoo black magic high priestess. The place was alive with music and color, and Dad and Megan helped me do the complete tourist thing. But there was something else underlying the whole scene, something that made me feel uneasy. Megan took me to one side while Dad was checking out an antiques shop.

  “Something’s on your mind, Claire, I can feel it.”

  “I don’t know, maybe there is something, maybe there isn’t. It’s just a feeling I can’t get rid of, maybe because I lost some sleep, the bus is not the best place to relax on.”

  “You’ll be fine after a good night’s sleep in our apartment,” she smiled. “We’re going out to a club tonight, if you’re ok with that.”

  “What kind of a club?”

  “It’s special, kind of a surprise.”

  I had to be content with that, we shopped, we ate out and we listened to jazz. Back to the apartment for a shower and I put on a clean t-shirt and underwear, skirt and boots and my hoodie and new leather jacket. I was ready. We ambled through the Quarter,
already it was starting to look like the New Orleans of the movies, color and noise mixed with an indefinably sinister undercurrent, slightly menacing but exciting too. The club we went into was more of a bar, with two tough looking dudes on the door making sure that only known and favored clients admitted. Inside it was very dim. Dad refused to let me have a glass of wine and I had to settle for soda. I looked around at the people sat nearby, there was something about them that I couldn’t put my finger on, something that I recognized, then I had it. They all shared similarities with Dad and Megan, same good looks. Dark hair, dark eyes and pale, but smooth, creamy skin. How weird, maybe there were more of these vampire-type people here. I’d have to ask them about it later. A band came on stage, not jazz this time for a change, they were more in the style of ‘My Chemical Romance’. I could see that not everyone in the room was impressed, but the music was good, very good, the band knew their stuff. A guy came up to our table and we all looked up at him.

  “Er, I wondered if you’d like to dance,” he said to me. Three sets of eyes boring into him didn’t give him much encouragement. I looked at Dad and he nodded. “Go ahead, honey.”

  We danced for a couple of songs and I began to relax. He told me his name was Hal, he seemed ok too, quite a nice guy. He reminded me of someone, it only took me a minute to work it out, but then it hit me. There was something about him that reminded me of Ethan Andros, of Dad and Megan too, the same pale, smooth skin, dark hair and eyes, classical features. He was tall, very slim and he had a kind of faraway look in his eyes. The band segued into a slow number and I slipped into his arms, I started to really relax then, it looked as if this trip was going to be better than what I normally experienced in my life. Boredom, hostility or both. This was neither, it was good to be with people who did not criticize or bully, just accepted me for what I was, whatever that was. I felt Hal’s lips brush my forehead, his arms held me just that little bit tighter, his hand crept around me a little more. But he stopped short of fondling my tits, which would have been going too far. Score one for Hal. I lost myself in the music, in fact, the song was a ‘My Chemical Romance’ number from an album I had at home. Maybe this trip was going to work out, I tried to imagine what it would be like living permanently in New Orleans. That was when the front window smashed in. In itself that wouldn’t have been a huge problem, except that what smashed through it was a gas bomb.