22. The Beards
I was still standing in front of the statue, considering the awful possibility that Caden was playing me like the stupid, gullible human girl that I was, when the garage door slowly creaked open and a jet black Bentley pulled in.
“Who’s that?” I asked Max.
The Foreros, he answered, rolling his Rs dramatically to emphasize their Spanish ethnicity.
I frowned, trying in vain to recall mention of them. “And who are they?” I asked as a middle–aged man and woman stepped out of the car, followed by a younger male and female version of them. They looked about my age. All four had exotic, dark features—black hair and olive complexions.
My eyes widened.” They’re human!”
Yes. Though some would call them “dinner.”
“So now you’re a comic,” I muttered, scowling. I heard that strange snorting that was Max’s laughter.
The older man nodded once at Leo, then continued into the building as if he owned it, an air of confidence swirling around him. The others followed closely behind him, the young male and female peering around the atrium in awe, as if it was their first time here. The girl suddenly stumbled. I shuddered as I watched her fall facedown to the cobblestones in the exact place where Ursula had met her demise, like it was some sort of reenactment.
“Klutz,” the guy—presumably her brother—muttered, though he stopped to wait for her. When she didn’t get up, he quickly crouched and placed his hand on her shoulder. “Valentina?” She didn’t respond. “Valentina?”
I was already running toward them. By the time I reached her, the girl was conscious and sitting up on her knees, her big, brown, doe–like eyes darting around, curiously surveying the space as if disoriented.
“Are you okay?” I asked.
“Yes … I think so. I just got lightheaded for a moment. Must have been the flight.” She had a high–pitched, childlike voice. Glancing up at me, she smiled shyly. With her brother’s help, she got to her feet, brushing off her pant legs.
“Learn how to walk,” the guy grumbled, stalking off.
She flushed. Turning to me, she said, “I’m Valentina.” She offered me a flimsy hand.
I took it. “Evangeline. And don’t worry. That was nothing. I’m the queen of pass–out lately. It’s pretty embarrassing, actually.”
She giggled sweetly. “Nice to meet you.”
“Valentina!” a woman’s thick Spanish voice called from inside.
“Coming, Mama!” She nodded once at me, then tore down the path and sprinted up the stairs, disappearing within seconds.
I walked back toward where Max stood watching two servants empty the trunk of several suitcases. “Do they live here?” I whispered to Max.
On and off.
“Seriously? Who are they?”
Carlos, Camila, Julian, and Valentina Forero. Viggo and Mortimer’s ‘beard’ family, Max replied. I could tell he found the entire matter amusing.
“What do you mean, ‘beard’—like a disguise?”
Yes; sometimes they find it useful to employ legitimate families, to hide assets and such.
My face screwed up in shock. “Do these people know who they’re living with? Who they’re covering for?”
Sometimes they compel the families, but it’s less work when they can find one that only needs promises of an easy, lavish lifestyle in order to comply.
“So this family doesn’t know?” There was no way that sweet girl was frolicking into a house of vampires by choice.
Oh, they know.
I did a double–take, my eyes growing wide with shock, earning another deep grunt from Max. And my stellar intuition strikes out again, I thought bitterly. “They must be charming,” I muttered sarcastically. A real bunch of philanthropists. But, whatever. They weren’t my problem. I had enough problems.
I found a relatively hidden spot in the garden beside a giant broad–leafed plant. Not that I can hide from vampires and sorceresses, I mused. But, still … I sat down on the low concrete retaining wall to replay those three amazing words Caden had whispered to me before I disappeared. Had I heard them right? And were they real?
Everything was happening so quickly. Just days ago I was desperate to be in the same room as Caden and now he was telling me that he loved me. And I could lose him forever if I didn’t solve this curse. That awful feeling of dread flared up again. I wrapped my arms around my body, hugging myself tightly. My elbow rubbed against something bulky in my pocket. I reached in and pulled out the digital camera. Amelie must have snuck it in!
Butterflies stirred in my stomach. I hit the power button and began flipping through the files. There were hundreds. Amelie had filled the super–sized memory card. Their beautiful faces were there, smiling and excited over the prospect of being rescued from their hell. I scrolled to an image of Caden and my heart started racing. He was as gorgeous as ever. I ran my finger over his image.
“Is that Caden?” Sofie’s voice murmured in my ear.
I let out a small squeal and the camera fumbled from my hands. Luckily Sofie, with catlike reflexes, caught it in mid–air before it could smash against the cobblestones.
“Sorry.” She took a seat next to me. “Here. Delivery from Martha.” She produced a heaping plate of waffles under an even bigger mountain of whip cream, along with a bowl of fresh raspberries.
“Isn’t there a fairytale about a witch who fattens up children in order to eat them?” I mused dryly.
“These raspberries are especially juicy. Eat up, Gretel … I mean, Evangeline,” she said, followed by an exaggerated cackle. Despite my foul mood, I smirked.
While I ate my waffles—a bizarre meal to have in the late evening—Sofie flipped through the pictures, snorting and laughing frequently. A large part of me wanted to wrench the camera away to protect my friends’ identities, but I restrained myself. I was starving.
“They seem like a fun group.” I nodded. “Who’s this?” Sofie held the camera out to show me someone tethered and tucked into a corner. The image was dark but I could see the glow of hatred in the yellow eyes as if they were still watching me.
I gasped and started choking on a piece of waffle. When I had cleared my throat, I managed to croak, “Rachel.” Amelie must have snuck back and taken a picture at some point. “Erase it. Please.” I shuddered.
Sofie studied it for a moment longer. “Deleting.” She pressed a few buttons and the horrible image was gone.
I let go of the breath I had been holding but that dreadful feeling in the pit of my stomach was still there. I was still afraid. We should have burned her.
There was a moment of awkward silence. “I’m sure she deserved it,” Sofie finally said.
“She did! We couldn’t have her coming here. She’s a murderer.” And she was hampering my time with Caden, I added silently.
“No, you’re right. We don’t want an ancient blood–crazy vampire here,” she said, adding under her breath, “We already have two of them under this roof.”
A few more minutes of silence passed and then I asked what I had been dreading. “They can do it, can’t they? Not live off humans?”
Sofie’s hands dropped to her lap. It was a moment before she spoke. “Some of our kind fight the urge right from the beginning, isolating themselves from humans and feeding only off four–legged animals. They convince themselves that this makes them good and moral, not monsters. But all it does is make them that much more uncontrollable once they’ve tasted human blood. Somewhere along the way, every vampire will lose the battle. It’s inevitable. And when they do … Evangeline, you’ve only ever seen highly controlled vampires. Viggo … Mortimer … me. We’re experienced. But the new ones … they’re … something else. It’s a horrifying sight that will etch itself in your memory forever,” she warned quietly, her jaw tensing. “It may seem contradictory but the best way to control your urge for human blood is to, at first, succumb to it. Then, if the resolve is strong enough, you’ll learn to manage the craving. The downside is that the euphoria from feeding off fresh human blood has a funny way of diminishing that resolve. Like I said, it’s a vicious circle. That’s why there are few vampires like me out there. Human blood is addictive.”
My eyes widened with concern. Did they realize all this? “Well, what about my vampires?” I asked possessively.
Sofie shook her head slowly. “I don’t know, Evangeline. It’s hard to say. I think their age and previous experience will help, but,” she hesitated, “it would be safer if they submit to it at first. If their resolve is strong enough, maybe they’ll gain control quickly.”
“And if it’s not strong enough?” I asked, afraid of the answer.
Sofie smiled sadly. Very slowly, very hesitantly, her hand slid over to pat mine. It stayed like that, resting on top of mine, almost holding but not quite.
I didn’t pull away, finding the gesture oddly comforting. “So they should kill humans again, whether they want to or not, because it’ll be safer for everyone in the long run,” I said flatly. I breathed in deeply and exhaled, waiting for myself to truly comprehend this, to feel the revulsion and heartache.
It didn’t come. Something else was there. It felt like … acceptance? Was that it? Was I so quick to accept the idea of feeding off humans because I cared about these vampires, because I was in love with one of them?
I heard footsteps and looked over to see Viggo strolling down the path, arm–in–arm with Valentina. Sofie’s hand instantly slid away from mine.
“Lovely evening, isn’t it, ladies?” he called with his typical false charm. “I’m just showing dear Valentina here the grounds.”
Valentina giggled in response, unable to peel her eyes off of Viggo’s face long enough to acknowledge our presence. I couldn’t blame the silly girl for being completely enamored with him. I had been that stupid fawn and bought the Academy award–winning act not long ago.
“See you later! Well, maybe …” Viggo winked knowingly at Sofie before leading Valentina away.
Sofie muttered something under her breath before saying, “That is Valentina Forero. She’s—”
“Part of Viggo and Mortimer’s beard family. I know,” I finished.
My knowledge caught Sofie by surprise. “How do you—oh yes, of course,” she muttered, glancing at Max. “You have a tour guide.”
Max snorted. Hola!
“Yes, it’s nice not to be left in the dark sometimes,” I said sardonically.
“I didn’t think it was worth mentioning,” Sofie retorted. “But if you’re eager to know, Viggo and Mortimer imported Carlos and Camila from Columbia about twenty–five years ago. They come from old money—lots of it—so it wasn’t too difficult to convince people they could afford a square block in Manhattan. Mortimer has been using them as a cover, but they’ve outlived their purpose.”
I frowned. “So what happens with them now?”
Her eyes flashed toward me, the look revealing. “Dinner … or perhaps breakfast. Or several snacks. Whenever the mood strikes them next, I would suspect. Oh, don’t feel too sorry for them,” Sofie added when she saw the horror on my face. “Dear Mr. Forero comes from a long line of Columbian drug lords—what a stereotype, right?” She chuckled wryly. “He wouldn’t think twice about having you disposed of because you glanced at him disrespectfully.”
I pictured the arrogant man who had strolled past me earlier. Okay, but …”Well, what about his wife and his children?”
“They’re not much better. Camila has a stake in a diamond mining operation—a family inheritance—that employs children as young as eight. Viggo said the working conditions are atrocious, at best.”
“Maybe she doesn’t know?” I offered.
“Oh, Evangeline …” Sofie chuckled. “She visits the mines regularly.”
“Well, his kids can’t be that bad. They’re still young enough, right?”
“Julian is twenty–one and Valentina is your age,” she confirmed. “I suppose I wouldn’t call them evil yet. Julian hasn’t done anything too horrendous. They may have had a chance if they’d been separated from their parents, but look at their role models! As close–minded as it may sound, they’re doomed to go down the same path as their parents. It’s too bad, though. Julian is handsome.”
I had to agree, recalling the young man’s Latin good looks, his thick, dark hair and ebony eyes. He was ordinary next to Caden, but still definitely handsome by human standards.
“Well. Can’t they kill the parents and set the kids free? Give them that chance?” I wondered.
Sofie turned to stare at me in surprise. “They could—but they won’t.”
“Well, can’t you say something?”
A noncommittal shrug, then a contemplative expression flitted across Sofie’s face.
I glanced at my watch. Getting close … Excitement stirred in my stomach; I’d see Caden again soon! But that was followed by the sickly dread that my time with him—with all of them—could be drawing to an end.
“Evangeline,” Sofie said, suddenly serious, “what if you can’t have everything you want, all at once?”
“What do you mean?”
She hesitated, her eyes darting to the balcony windows. When she spoke again, her voice was barely audible. “What if getting Caden and your friends here means you couldn’t see them for awhile because it’s not safe … for a long while. Would it still be worth it?”
“Of course. Yes. Absolutely. Without a doubt,” I answered with grim resolution, though the idea of being away from Caden for any length of time tore at my insides. But at least they’d be on the same planet and this curse would be over.
“You should think about that for a moment before you answer, Evangeline,” Sofie warned.
“No. I’m certain. Things can’t be much worse than they are right now. He’s living in another universe. If I can get him here, everything will work out. But you’re working on that talisman, right?”
Sofie nodded. She remained quiet for a moment, her eyes focused on the cobblestone path. “I’m going to tell you something but you absolutely must promise me, first, that you’ll do as I ask, okay?”
“Yeah, sure, I guess.”
“Promise. Pinky swear.” She held out her slender pinky finger.
I hesitated. The pinky swear was ironclad and uncompromising, an unbreakable pledge. It had been a tradition between my mother and me—one I wouldn’t tarnish frivolously. But my gut—as blind as it was—told me this wasn’t such a case. “Swear,” I agreed, hooking my finger around hers, a wave of warm and fuzzy running through me.
Sofie nodded, then said, “When you get to Ratheus tonight, take a closer look at the statue. At the woman’s hand. I have a feeling … Well, anyway, take a look.”
“Okay,” I said, frowning. “That’s what I had to pinky swear to?”
“No.” She shook her head. “You have to promise you won’t do anything yet.”
My eyes widened. Did she think that was the portal? “But—”
“No,” she quickly interrupted. “I’m not ready to release Veronique yet.”
I frowned. “I don’t get it. I thought that spell was already cast and you just had to complete it.”
“In theory, yes. However, there is one … complication that I’m still figuring out. Hocus–pocus stuff,” she said, waving her hand dismissively.
My frown deepened. “But what if I run out of time and I can’t come back or I die, like you said?”
“You’ve got some more time,” she answered, winking.
“But what if—”
“No! You promised,” Sofie reminded me sternly.
I nodded, grimacing. I looked around for Viggo and Mortimer again before whispering, “Sofie, they think I’m coming back with vampires next time. What happens when I don’t?”
“You let me worry about that.” She patted my knee gently.
That night, I wasn’t traveling to Ratheus with a giant bag of supplies strapped to my body. I wasn’t traveling there with fear of Rachel. I was traveling there for Caden, to see his smiling face, to cling to him tightly, and to tell him that I loved him.
Complete darkness met me. I waited quietly. Someone always came to meet me within seconds. Not this time, though.
“Caden?” I called out. Silence. “Caden? Amelie?” I called again, louder, my voice unsteady. Maybe they’re all out hunting. I took a few cautious steps forward, my hands groping the obscurity in search of a cave wall.
My fingertips grazed something solid. It wasn’t stone. I poked and prodded it. It had some give. Like hard, muscular flesh.
My hand recoiled. “Guys? This isn’t funny. Come on, please light a torch,” I called, my voice shaky. “Or bring me my flashlight.”
Soft laughter. Someone was trying hard and failing to contain glee. More snickers and titters joined the first.
“Caden?” I whispered, my eyes darting about the dark in vain. I heard flint striking rock and a flame erupting behind me. A wave of relief washed over me. I turned.
Rachel stood five feet away from me, Merth free, her sadistic, lemon–yellow eyes dancing with excitement.