The Vampire's War, page 17
“So,” Charon said, “what’s next? Can we have sex? We can pick any room you want. Where’d you wank while you were growing up? We can fuck there.”
Jaret finished his wine, grabbed Charon’s glass, and took them to the kitchen. He cleaned the dishes as he answered Charon. “I need time alone. You better go see your harem. They were scared shitless and need their fearless leader. Fuck them and come as much as possible to get the longings out of your system. You can close your eyes and think of me every time you come. And continue your effort to woo Styx. We’re going to lure him to the vortex, but I think maybe the Council knows already.”
“You do?”
“Maybe. Anyway, seems like we have some time. I need to be alone.” Jaret led Charon to the door. “See you soon.” He almost stood on his tiptoes to kiss him goodbye but stopped himself. He instead tapped him on the nose and pushed him into the winter.
Part Seven
Emotional Turmoil
Chapter Eighteen
Jenn’s Annoying Visit
7 MARCH 2019
Central City, CO
Walking through the center of the old mining town turned gambling destination, Jaret remembered family outings to Central City. He and his sister had run around to the stores and pretended to live in the Wild West. The family enjoyed the history of the town. Jaret reflected on the old mountain village of his youth as he meandered the deserted streets.
Jaret looked into the candy store, wishing to transport himself back to the days when Lincoln, Jenn, and he stormed inside and picked what candy their parents would buy them. The memory signaled to Jaret why he got rid of Charon, why he felt such embarrassment about his own behavior toward the Council, and why his emotions whirled in chaos. Jaret’s mind returned him to a youthful doubting of himself when he had wished he could disappear from everyone with nothing more than his dog at his side. As if on cue, Darth trotted up and nudged his leg.
Jaret kept moving down the street and stood outside the Central City Opera House, his favorite childhood destination here. He laughed, thinking only a gay boy would love the opera at a young age. Lincoln and his mom had despised going but liked the dinner beforehand so went along, but his dad, Jenn, and he had reveled in the atmosphere and music.
Jaret went around back and pulled out a sapphire ring, commanding the gem to unlock the door as he scanned for security devices and cast a spell to hide himself. He entered the old building, admiring the history and feeling of past generations as if they remained in the theater. The building and entire town reminded Jaret of his undergraduate and graduate career, where he majored in history and could transport himself into the past with nothing more than imagination. He’d never put the degrees to practical use, what with becoming a vampire in the middle of completing his doctorate. But the discipline grounded him, distracted him, and reminded him about an individual’s obligation to participate in something bigger than only self-interest.
Jaret sat at the edge of the stage and dangled his legs. He called for Darth, who meandered to him and sat, leaning into his body. Her presence cracked the dam holding back his feelings. Jaret burst into a passionate fit of crying. Since Anthony had confronted him at Lake Estes about his friendship with Charon, Jaret had denied the turmoil within himself. He suppressed his own feelings, his doubt, his fear, and had lost himself in bravado as a way to escape his insecurity.
He felt lost, embarrassed, and stupid. And alone—hopelessly alone. So much of what he had said and most of the actions he had taken came from a profound sense of insecurity and loneliness, despite how they appeared to the outside world.
Jaret thought about the sexual temptation with Charon, his feelings and actions fitting the emotional turmoil to perfection. The physical attraction and Charon’s persistence made Jaret feel wanted and alive. But Jaret knew giving in to the lust would last for the duration of the encounter and then leave him feeling more exposed once Charon moved to his next conquest and left Jaret in the dust. Oh, Jaret wanted to lose himself with Charon. He protected himself from the mistake by remembering how his emotion ruled too strongly. The aftermath of sex with Charon would be unbearable.
Jaret had also tried to act nonchalant like the Council whenever they found murdered and maimed vampires. He hid behind an outward indignation toward the Council’s cavalier attitude. In truth, the inanimate bodies of vampires he had never met were seared into his memory. They were innocent victims, nothing more than the war’s collateral damage.
He desperately wanted to play the role of fierce warrior, unafraid and full of righteous anger. Instead, he cowered and mourned.
And what could Jaret do with his conflicted emotions about the Council? He thought the four members slow and ineffective, but the last month and especially the confrontation with Styx at the Stanley Hotel forced him to see a more rational truth: no way could Jaret Bachmann be duping the Council. Xavier, Thomas, Catherine, and Harriet protected the vampire world with their entire souls. Much as he disagreed with Council strategy, logic and a more removed analysis told him of his own folly. These new thoughts also left him feeling used and manipulated by the vampires he loved.
What if they all thought him a fool? What if the war and the disagreement severed their friendship, even if they allowed him to live? He cared for them with all his heart yet had acted like a spoiled brat. In his defense, however, they had pissed him off.
While these inner thoughts contradicted his brash attitude, they squared with his frustration at how the Council kept him in the dark. He and Anthony had never resolved keeping Jaret off the Council. Or, if the Council wanted to preserve their odd number for voting, Jaret thought he should at least be privy to secret Council business. After all, Jaret was married to one of their own. But Anthony had fought Jaret’s attempts to get information more than anyone else on the Council.
Jaret choked on the sob bursting from within. He wept with such brutal sorrow Darth shoved herself into his side and licked and kissed his face with manic attention. She imparted a dog’s desperate attempt to will him to happiness with her love. Anthony, gone. Anthony, dead.
Memories of Anthony flooded his mind, threatening to overwhelm him with grief. He envisioned the tall, blond, long-haired god who had appeared on the path along Lake Michigan in Chicago to save him when a group of college football players threatened to beat the crap out of him; Anthony after he was exposed to Jaret as a vampire, comfortable with Jaret’s being a witch. Then, there was the breakthrough when Anthony gave up his attempts to block Jaret’s transformation and their relationship because of Jaret’s witchcraft and had converted him—still the hottest, most passionate sex Jaret recalled in his short life. He recalled every moment as vampires when they planned their future together, decided on a movie to watch, or hung out like a normal couple, and the thrilling escapades, such as a wild tour of Alaska Anthony had orchestrated for Jaret’s one year anniversary of becoming a vampire.
Of course, Jaret and Anthony had struggled with each other. They disagreed about Anthony’s initial reluctance to make Jaret a vampire. Anthony feared how Jaret’s powerful sorcery, impatience, and insecurity would be too volatile a mix if added to vampirism. At times, the lovers had bickered about keeping Jaret from knowing Council business, a tension that escalated because of their disagreement about the war.
None of those conflicts mattered to Jaret anymore. They seemed trivial with Anthony forever lost. Jaret thought the tears would never end when he sensed Anthony’s ghost watching him, protecting him.
Jaret had made his typical effort to ignore his emotion about Anthony’s death, to smash the feelings into oblivion. With every such attempt for as long as Jaret could remember—going back to childhood, the more he repressed his feelings, the more they would eventually explode out of him.
He recalled the image of Anthony hanging limp in the throes of Styx’s magic, glaring at Jaret and ordering him to leave. And then Anthony had died.
Jaret stopped crying after what felt like hours. He was left empty and alone, except for Darth, who he clutched to his side.
“That was very dramatic.”
The familiar voice and smart-ass comment made Jaret smile. Maybe Jenn was the only person, or ghost, who could get such a reaction. The spirit of his sister plopped down next to him, her face smiling as she reached out a semitransparent hand and rubbed his shoulder.
“Not many people could make me laugh at the moment.” Jaret wiped a tear and smiled at his sister. “I don’t even know if you’re real or some false vision I’ve conjured to help me through the drama.”
“Good question. If I say I’m real, your mind will think you made up the comment to convince yourself. If I say I’m a figment of your imagination, you’ll still think you’re bonkers. Which you are, by the way.” She smiled.
And Jaret laughed. “Why are you bugging me?”
“You looked like you needed someone to annoy you. Does a sister need an excuse to visit her brother?”
“A dead sister coming back through the ether does. You don’t follow me around all the time. I’ve seen all of you on the other side, happy and hanging out. Something or someone brought you back.”
“I won’t give away my secrets. How about you accept my help without the questions? No need to worry about my realness. Is realness even a word?” she asked. “Could be Darth asked. Or your emotion shook the entire universe and the gods ordered me to get you under control before the entire universe exploded. Maybe someone sent me.” Jenn shrugged. “Who knows? Who cares? I’m here so let’s deal with you.”
“What about me?”
Jenn laughed. “Even as a vampire you like to ask a stupid question to stall for time?”
“Fuck off.”
“Better,” Jenn said. “Closer to the truth.”
“And aren’t you sophisticated and smart in your ideas? I guess dying as a teen didn’t freeze your intellect at that age.”
“I was very mature for my age if you’ll recall. And no—I’m not frozen. I’ve learned so much in death.”
“Figures you’d even handle being a ghost all mature and shit.”
Jenn’s ghost leaned against him. She reached over and itched Darth behind the ears, to which Darth wagged her stub of a tail. “See. She knows I’m real. But you got one thing right: I like the other side. So let’s get on with our business so I can leave and you can go back to pretending you don’t have emotions.”
Jaret chuckled. “I thought being a vampire would end how I repress my feelings. I hid myself while growing up because of my seeing ghosts, witchcraft, and being gay. But I came out and admitted those issues and still lean toward concealing myself.”
Jenn nodded. “Yep. You are who you are. You’re working on being better, though. You’ve had a lot to deal with.”
“You came all this way to play Captain Obvious?”
Jenn threw her head back with laughter. “Yeah. You want blunt? You’re lost. You’re searching for yourself. You’ve got to find who you are before you can deal with the war and other shit. Well, none of the problems will disappear, but if you don’t look for yourself amid them, you’ll flounder and make more dumbass decisions.”
“Like thinking I fooled the Council? Or can fight the war on my own? What?”
“All of the above. And more. Like thinking with your cock.”
Jaret held up his hands to stop Jenn. “I’m not talking to my sister about my sex life. And I don’t know what to do.” Jaret started to speak but choked on the words, having to control himself before he continued. “I’m not even sure who I am.”
Jenn pulled Jaret into a hug. “Yes, you do. You need to accept the truth and the feelings. I need to go but I’ll say this: Hold onto what you feel. Believe what you sense. There’s more going on than meets the eye. I’m going to give you a hint. Your idea about using Notre Dame as a vortex is correct.”
Jenn vanished before his eyes.
“What the fuck?” Jaret asked Darth. “Always cryptic. The supernatural world is fucked up.”
Darth wagged her tail as if in agreement.
After Jenn’s spirit visited him in Central City, Jaret took the next day to clear his head and get centered.
Jaret had lost himself amid his vampire transformation and relationship with Anthony. Those events were followed too soon by an impending vampire war and Anthony’s death. Though powerful beyond belief with his vampire body and senses, not to mention his magic, Jaret had to remember his age in human years. He was a young adult, still developing his own identity. Becoming a vampire did not grant the wisdom that comes with age. He was too sensitive to what other people thought of him or how they judged him.
Jaret’s being lost had led him to act like a wounded child when he felt left out by the Council or treated like a little kid by Anthony. The war compounded the problem by sprinkling in a serious dose of terror. The major benefit of becoming a vampire, even better than its strength, power, and wealth, was eternal life. Styx presented the very real possibility of dying.
Frightened, Jaret had attempted to control a situation beyond his authority. He had tried to force the Council and Charon to fight the war on his terms as a way to calm his own panic. In retrospect, Jaret felt ridiculous. But, to move beyond his childish behavior, Jaret had to face his feelings and stop berating himself.
The Council had made him feel insecure and alone. From his earliest memories, Jaret was inclined toward mistrust and thoughts of isolation. These sentiments grew worse for him when he lost his entire family. Thus, when the Council had left him out of their deliberations, especially when Anthony did it, Jaret was devastated. Throw in Anthony’s death, and who the fuck could hold everything together?
Sitting in the cold air on his parent’s deck, Jaret forgave himself.
Powerful feelings had always surged through him and guided him for better and for worse. Recognizing this truth calmed Jaret. He vowed to move forward with more caution and logic, but also by facing his emotions and not running from them.
Jaret also determined to listen to his own senses moving forward. He had already decided to push for the war to occur at Notre Dame before Jenn confirmed the location. He was certain the cathedral was the place for them to defeat Styx.
Before Jaret could conclude anything else, his guest arrived.
“You sounded better in your message.” Xavier sat next to him, though clothed in nothing but a long sleeve T-shirt and jeans.
“Should we go inside, in case anyone sees?” Jaret asked.
“Look at you, enforcing Council rules. You and Thomas act all defiant and then become Council police.” Xavier smiled. “You’re right.”
They settled into the great room, sitting together on the couch while Xavier waited in silence.
“So,” Jaret began, “I’ve been an ass, but sometimes the Council makes me into one. I know I sound like I’m giving a half-assed apology. Because, I mean, I am saying sorry for being a shithead. But I’m not apologizing for disagreeing with you or being hurt by how you treat me. Those are real emotions.”
Xavier grinned. “You packed a ton into a couple sentences. I accept your apology and offer my own in return. I recognize how the Council behaves in keeping its secrets. I can’t account for how Anthony handled you. He twisted himself into knots when dealing with Council business and you. But I didn’t have to go along. Nor do I need to continue with how we’ve treated you. I can’t tell you everything, but I can be more forward in explaining and less high and mighty.”
Jaret nodded. “Sounds good. Because I hated fighting with you guys. I was a mess and, well, I don’t know if I can explain but, anyway, I’m happy we’re chatting and feel normal.”
“Me too.” Xavier smiled.
“I gotta ask another question. Did you send Jenn to me?”
“She may be dead,” Xavier answered, “but Jenn makes her own decisions.”
“Someone with the ability to commune with the dead could always reach out to ask her for a favor.”
“Does the reason for her appearance matter?”
“You’re doing the Council thing: hidden agenda, I won’t tell you.”
Xavier laughed. “Right. I see how the Council can bother the shit out of you. Let me try again. I don’t want to comment on why Jenn came. You needed her, and she appeared. Nothing else matters. You heal yourself.”
Jaret chuckled. “I’d rather have a direct answer, but I like the lack of bullshit. I prefer you not telling me than when you used to give me fucking riddles.”
“So what did you learn from Jenn?”
“I gotta find myself. I mean, I kinda came to the same conclusion before she got there because I had a mega cray-cray breakdown crying fit. But Jenn helped me confirm the problems. I have a lot of emotions about the past, the present, and the future. They were too much to handle. And I hate dealing with my own emotion. So I hid from everything until I exploded. Here’s how I’m feeling: I’m going to fight in this war, and I still disagree with the Council. But I also want to stop being a shithead all the time.”
Xavier laughed aloud. “I appreciate the returned candor. The Council knows what we’re doing, even if you disagree.”
“What is the Council’s plan? Tell me.”
Xavier began to say something but stopped. “I was almost going to be cryptic like old times.” Xavier rubbed his face in thought. “I can’t tell you. Styx is powerful and we’re keeping Council plans concealed to protect everyone. Including you. You’ll be a part of this war. I assure you. But until the correct moment, you’re better off in the dark.”
The words stung but not as much as before today. “How many more vampires are you four going to let die before we fight?” There, Jaret could also use words as a weapon.
“Touché.” Xavier grimaced. “We don’t want anyone to die, but Styx is hell-bent on death and destruction. We’re going to win. I promise. But we have to be deliberate.”
