Ascension (7 page)

After lunch is ordered in, I say my goodbyes and promise to return, then go outside the building to find Vasily sitting there in his rental car reading a paper. He hops out of the vehicle and opens the back door, waving me inside.

"There's an envelope on seat beside you, Eve."

I pick up the envelope and open the flap. Inside is a receipt from a local printing shop, and a photographic image with fiery reds, brilliant violet purples, luminous greens all roiling together against a black background. Tycho's Nova. On the back, hand-scrawled, is a simple note:

Imagine it. Julien

I put the photograph down and watch out the car window as the streets of
Norfolk
pass by.

CHAPTER 6

“A very small degree of hope is sufficient to cause the birth of love.”

Stendhal

We get home in the late afternoon and my head aches so I go to the fridge for a bottle of OJ to wash down my Tylenol. I wander over to the office where Vasily sits, drinking his coffee and watching the video cameras.

"Where's Julien?"

"Meetings," Vasily replies, turning to me and smiling.

"Is this his warehouse? Does he own the whole thing?"

Vasily nods. "Has owned for long time. Before staking, he lived at monastery but has office in apartment downstairs. Now he lives here."

Outside on one of the monitors, I see a van drive up and park on the curb. Vasily points to one monitor.

"Cleaners are here," he says. "Come to clean up construction mess. Clean carpets and floors on each level."

"Should I do anything?"

"Just play piano or watch TV. They do this floor first and won't take long – maybe one hour."

The cleaners consist of a couple of men dressed in white overalls with a large industrial vacuum and carpet cleaners. They move through the large space with amazing efficiency and then clean the carpets in the entry, which have accumulated dust from the drywalling that's been done in the loft.

While they're still cleaning, I become bored of hearing about the latest armed robbery and murders, so I turn off the television and play piano for a while, practicing
Ballade
like a good submissive.

Suddenly, I hear a tremendous crash from outside. I go to the row of video monitors and check out the screens. Then I see it – a car smashed into the cleaning van and the vehicle was knocked into the street, the other car's hood crumpled, its engine smoking. Someone slumps out of the driver's seat and onto the road.

Vasily grabs a cell phone off his desk.

"Let me help," I say. "I've taken first aid."

He shakes his head. "No," he dials a number. "You stay safe. I'm calling it in now. You stay here."

He leaves me alone and I go back to the video monitors and watch as Vasily and the cleaners discuss the situation on the sidewalk and someone else speaks with the driver of the errant car.

I go to the door and see that it's held open by a corner of the carpet that the cleaners were working on. I go
through
the empty anteroom and to the elevator. Beside it is a stairwell with a glass door and window. When I press the elevator button, nothing happens – Vasily must have had it stay on the main floor for security reasons. I try the door to the stairs, not really knowing why, but checking to see if it's open. It is.

I can't help it – I go down to the lower floor and to the door to the apartment where Julien has his office. I try the door, my heart in my throat, and it's unlocked. For a moment, I debate with myself whether I should open the door. If I do and someone's there, Julien will be angry that I left the apartment. Perhaps Vasily will get in trouble – but it really wouldn't be his fault that the cleaners accidentally left the door ajar.

I'm just so curious about Julien – this vampire who's claimed me in Michel's absence. Inside, the apartment
is s
partan – just a massive open space with hardwoods and exposed brick and ductwork like upstairs. A platform bed sits in one corner, messy, unmade. Piles of papers, books, magazines, boxes, and what looked like scrap furniture lay about, giving the space a cluttered look. A telescope sits in a window.

As I stand there, a naked woman comes out of a room. A shock goes through me – at first, I think it's either a model or a drug addict, for she's tall and thin, her eyes hollow, her skin grey. Long brown hair, greasy. Dark eyes. Tattoos on her arms and one on her hip. About my age, but she looks ill, pale, skinny.

I can see bite marks on her neck and shoulder.

"Who are you?" the woman says, stopping in the center of the space.

"I'm Eve. I'm staying upstairs," I say. "Who are you?"

"I live here," the woman says.

"You live here?"

"Yeah. I'm with Mike. I'm Kate."

"You and -
Mike
?" I stare at the floor, my muscles tightening. "Don't you mean Julien?"

"No, you know. Mike. French guy. Vamp. With the big teeth?" She coughs, a raspy sound. "Julien's the monk. Are you one of his pets?"

A feeling of numbness floods through me.

"No." I grind my teeth, dig my nails into my palm. "I'm no one's pet."

"Oh, yeah?" The woman seems unconcerned that she's naked. "Then what's that bite on your neck?"

"How long," I say, barely able to get the words out, "how long have you been living with Michel?"

"Six months but I just got back from County last week." The woman looks at her arm, rubs it. Even from where I stand, I can see needle tracks in her arm. "The court gave me an option of rehab or 30 days, so I did the time. Fuck that shit." She wipes her nose on a wrist.

"Did Michel pick you up?"

She frowns. "Yeah. Of course he did."

So that's where Michel was.

"You always go around naked?"

"Hey, it's my place. Besides, Mike likes it." she coughs again. "You got any smokes? I'm out."

"No." I shake my head. "Sorry. I have to go."

I leave the apartment, feeling numb – completely numb, my knees weak. I walk back up the stairs. Go inside. Find my shoes. My
backpack
. My coat.

I leave, taking the stairs. Glance out the front doors to see a crowd of people around the car, its engine flaming, Vasily spraying it with a fire extinguisher.

I find a rear exit and try the knob. It opens. There's no one outside watching the door, so I open it and leave the building.

The streets bordering the waterfront are narrow, with old deserted warehouses and buildings that have been abandoned and are rusting with age and the salt air. I walk as fast as I can, my mind blank, just wanting to escape. I get about five blocks away and go down a narrow alley and stop by a trash bin and vomit.

A car drives down the street and I wave at it, hoping that the person will give me a lift but the car drives by and the driver doesn't even glance at me.

Although I've lived in
Boston
now for almost a decade, I don't know this area of town well, and have no idea how to get back to civilization. I just walk towards the city center, hoping that I'll find a telephone booth or someone who will give me a ride to Boston PD. I'll ask for witness protection.

As I turn a corner down another deserted street, I see Vasily's car coming in the other direction. I duck down the alley and run, searching for a door I can enter and a place to hide. I'm sure Vasily saw me. Now it's only a matter of time before he comes for me.

I find an open door and enter an old brownstone warehouse, and am assaulted by a stench so bad I think I must be in a garbage dump. On the floor are dozens of needles, bags of trash, filthy mattresses, used take-out containers. It is – or has been at one time a flop-house for addicts.

I climb the stairs, hoping to find a place to hide, but each level is wide open, the floors abandoned and empty. There's nowhere to go but up. Finally at the top floor, I see a ladder going up to a skylight in the roof and climb up.

"Eve!"

It's Vasily. I try the skylight and it opens so I climb out and find myself on a platform about a floor above the rest of the roof, twenty feet square. An old rusting HVAC system perches on one edge. I close the skylight and hide behind the old tin housing.

It takes about five minutes for him to find me. I don't know what I was thinking – there's no escape. I sit and shiver, my coat not warm enough against the unusually cool weather.

The skylight opens and Vasily pops out, glancing around in search of me. He walks over and kneels down beside me.

"Come," he says, holding out his hand. "You must come back with me before Julien returns or there will be paying hell."

"Hell to pay," I say. "I'm not going back, Vasily. Just let me go."

Vasily shakes his head. "If I did, Michel would surely send someone to kill me. Julien too."

"Don't tell him, then. Say you couldn't find me. It was the cleaners – they left the door open, not you."

"No, I am your protector. The bucks come to me. You are in danger now because of being Michel's woman."

"I'm not his 'woman'. Kate is." I can't believe that Michel lied to me about being celibate. He kept a woman in his home and now keeps her in the warehouse? A junkie?

Vasily frowns for a moment.

"Ahh," he says, covering his eyes with a hand. "You went downstairs. No," he says and shakes his head. "You don't understand. Kate is junkie friend of Michel's. From way back, when he was working as priest with street people. He," Vasily says and shrugs. "Michel keeps her supplied with good drugs, doctors, a place to sleep so she doesn't walk streets. Live in place like this.” He points to the building. “Now that the mansion is being fixed, she had to come stay at Julien’s."

"She said Michel was her lover. Are you telling me she and Michel aren't lovers?"

"Lovers?" Vasily makes a face. "Not lovers. You," he says and points to me. "You and Michel are lovers."

"Not anymore." Even as I say it, grief bites at my heart.

"Come back, Eve. You can't leave."

"Am I a prisoner?"

"Prisoner, no. Unsafe outside of warehouse, yes. Didn't Luke teach you that? Come back with me now before Julien finds out. He will punish you for this."

"I'm not coming. You'll have to drag me."

"I will."

"I'll kick you."

He leans over and grabs one foot and pulls but only succeeds in removing my shoe.

"Eve," he says, throwing the shoe down. "Enough foolishness. If you wait too long, he will come himself and then I will pay Hell. And now, I am getting mad."

"I won't come back. I'm not letting Julien claim me like some spoil of war."

Vasily takes out his cell phone and dials a number. He speaks in Russian to someone on the other line, his voice angered. It's quite a long conversation. Finally, Vasily rubs his forehead and looks at his watch. Then he hangs up, and dials another number, listens, presses buttons, and listens some more – as if he's listening to voice mail.

"You come now," he says, waving his hand at me. "Julien is out of town for the rest of week. He left message. He knows nothing – left straight from meeting. Come."

I close my eyes. I can't stay on the roof forever and Vasily's getting angrier but I can't go back willingly.

"I'm not leaving."

"
Ebanatyi pidaraz!"
Vasily says, stomping his foot. "That means fucking motherfucker. That means I'm getting very mad. Do I have to call Ivan and get him to bring taser? Maybe tranquillizer gun? He was with Russian Secret Police before Vory. Do you want him to use his techniques on you? This is no game, Eve."

I wrap my coat around myself more tightly.

"I won't go willingly." I turn my face away from Vasily. "I'm not cooperating any longer. If you take me back, it will be by force."

He throws his hands up. "So be it."

Vasily dials a number on his cell phone. He speaks once more in Russian and gesticulates in an angry fashion. He snaps the phone shut and climbs down the ladder, closing the skylight behind him.

After about ten minutes, I hear a car drive up and I climb to the edge that looks over the side of the building and glance down. A large black SUV – two men get out. As I watch, Vasily points up at the roof and the men follow his hand.

Vasily shades his eyes.

I stand up and walk along the edge, looking down at them.

"Eve," Vasily shouts up. "Stay away from edge!"

I raise my arms up, feeling the wind blowing around me. The two other men run into the building.

"Eve, no!" Vasily waves his hands. "Don't!"

They think I'm going to jump. It almost makes me laugh. Good. Let them worry. I've been put through a wringer in the past few weeks. The man I'm in love with is a lying vampire who thinks I'm a possession he can just give to his brother, who's a first-class jerk. I can't leave the warehouse without Vasily in escort. I'm not to ask questions, complain or expect anything. By all rights, I should jump.

The skylight opens and a man climbs out. He has a shaved head and ice blue eyes and is wearing a leather trench that looks like something out of Nazi Germany. Ivan perhaps.

"Come, Eve. Move away from the edge," he says, his accent not quite as thick as Vasily's, more cultured. "You don't want to do that."

I shrug. "Why not?"

I cover my eyes and try not to cry, but finally, my emotions overwhelm me. Then the man grabs my arm roughly, and despite everything, I fall into fight mode, and I have him down and on his stomach, in a second. I'm just about to pull his gun away from his hand when I feel something press in the back of my neck. I realize the one who holds the gun must be an adept as well, to be able to beat me. I have a lot to learn about fighting.