Chapter Four
Blair spent the next few days in a haze of research and speculation. He spent hours on the phone and the computer, contacting vampire experts across the country looking for answers to his questions. When he slept, his dreams were haunted by that dance he'd shared with the Master of the City. Never in his life had he experienced anything quite so erotic, and it scared him how readily he would've given himself over to the vampire had he but asked.
The other thing that was troubling him was his ability to resist Jim's use of compulsion. He'd never heard of a mortal being immune to that before, and he wondered if he was immune to glamour as well. Everything about Jim Ellison was a mystery – his past as well as his effect on Blair. It was a mystery he was determined to solve.
To: bsandburg
From: phillipsb .org
Subject: Compulsion
Professor Sandburg,
I appreciate your inquiry. We have put a lot of focus into studying the use of compulsion and how it affects mortals. While some students jokingly refer to this particular ability as Jedi mind powers, the idea is actually similar in a way. Compulsion works best on weak-minded individuals, the type of person who is always looking to someone else for direction.
The more powerful the vampire, the more powerful the compulsion. In our studies, we have been able to determine that almost no-one is completely immune to it. Anyone with experience building and using mental blocks, like a psychic for example, is more equipped to fight off compulsion. Given enough power and time, though, a vampire should be able to break down any kind of mental defense.
Even more interesting is that a vampire can successfully use compulsion on others of their kind, though in that case it's a question of power. For example, a Regent would have sufficient power to use compulsion on any vampire below his or her station, but no-one below the Regent would be able to use compulsion back, if you see what I'm saying there.
Oh, I should mention that compulsion is like hypnotism. A vampire can't use it to make a mortal do something that goes against their deeper nature. It's a little sketchier when it comes to the vampires themselves; since we aren't certain of how their nature alters once they've been changed, there's no way to tell what they would or wouldn't do under compulsion.
If you have any further questions, or if you need clarification, please don't hesitate to contact me.
Bryan Phillips, Assistant to the Director
Extrasensory Abilities Division
Center for Vampire Studies, West Coast
"Promoting awareness through education."
Blair wasn't sure what to make of that. He was fairly certain he didn't have any latent psychic abilities, but even if he did he had no idea how to go about constructing a mental block strong enough to keep a Master out of his head. The first time Jim had done it, he'd almost felt the vampire's presence moving through his mind. The second time…well. He'd bugged out of there without question, since he'd been pretty freaked out, but he knew he'd go back; that was a compulsion that over-rode the one Jim tried to plant in his head.
"Jesus, man, you're playing with fire," he muttered to himself. He was certain, though, that Jim Ellison was the Sentinel he'd been searching for. The vamp had been fairly devouring him with his senses out on the dance floor, which had only added to the heady feeling of attraction. Blair could recognize it well enough now that he had some distance, though that didn't make it any easier to deal with. He rubbed one hand absently over his hip, as if still feeling the grip of a strong hand there.
Blair wished it were as easy to get information on Sentinels as it was vampires. It was likely he was the only so-called expert in that particular field, and that wasn't saying much. What if his odd reaction to Jim was a Sentinel thing, and not a vamp thing? And did it really make a difference, either way? There was no separating one from the other. He ran a hand through his hair, frustrated.
"This sucks," he sighed. He shut the lid on the laptop and switched on the television, flipping around until he found a nice brainless comedy to lose himself in.
*o*o*o*
A knock at the door woke Blair with a start, and he had a moment of disorientation where he could still feel Jim's hands on him before he shed the remnants of his dream and staggered out of bed. It was only a little past six, time for dinner. He couldn't remember making plans with anyone to stop by. He stumbled across the room to the door and looked out through the peephole.
"Perfect," he mumbled to himself, resting his head on the door. Just what he needed.
"Blair, honey, let me in."
He unlocked the door and held it open, not bothering to fake a smile he didn't feel. "Mom."
"Did I wake you, sweetie? I'm sorry." Naomi Sandburg pressed a feather-light kiss on his cheek as she breezed past him, green and orange dress swirling around her ankles. "You could have told me what hotel you were staying at, Blair. Do you know how many I had to call to find you?"
"What are you doing here?" he asked, sitting back down on his bed. He turned off the television; he must've dozed off in the middle of the movie.
"I came to take you to dinner." Naomi smiled at him and this time Blair was able to give her one in return. It was just like his mother to drop by unexpectedly and expect him to be free. Some things never changed, and that seemed to hold especially true for her. She looked much younger than her age, which was some kind of state secret, though her red hair had more gray shot through it than he remembered.
"You came all the way to Washington to take me to dinner?" Blair asked.
"Of course. Get changed, sweetie. You're all rumpled."
With a sigh of resignation, Blair went into the bathroom and closed the door behind him. He washed up and tried to tame his sleep-mussed curls, with only moderate success. When he was finally as presentable as he was going to be, he rejoined his mother and grabbed his coat.
"Where do you want to go?" he asked.
"I hear there's a nice Vietnamese restaurant right down the street," Naomi said, linking arms with Blair. "I've got a craving for cháo long."
Blair didn't ask how she knew about Việt House; Naomi had connections on top of connections, thanks to a lifetime of itinerant living, and had probably called one of her many friends for suggestions once she knew she was coming to Cascade.
Once they'd been seated in a cozy booth in the back of the restaurant and ordered their meals, Naomi got down to business. Blair had been expecting it; his mother always had ulterior motives, though he knew she was also honestly glad to visit with him.
"I was surprised to hear that you were spending so much time in Cascade," she said, toying idly with her water glass. "Normally your interviews take only a couple of days."
"Things have gotten a bit complicated," he admitted.
"Maybe you should just skip this one, sweetie." Naomi put her hand over his on the table. "The kind of research you're doing is important, I know that better than anyone, but maybe you should take a break."
Blair shook his head. "You don't understand. I've found him. After all these years, I finally found him."
"You can't…are you certain?" His mother studied him carefully, and he was surprised at the fear he saw in her eyes. She'd been nothing but supportive of him when he started his Sentinel research, and had agreed that he should take some time off from school to hunt down his very thin lead. He wondered now if there had been some underlying reason for her easy acceptance – perhaps she'd thought it so far-fetched that nothing would come of it? –and hated himself for thinking so.
"The Sentinel is here, the book was right. He was turned, Naomi, back in the 1850s. I talked to Peter at NYU and he isn't sure of the date, but I'm sure." The old excitement was back, and he freed his hand from his mother's grasp so he could gesture with it. "The only problem is he won't admit he knows anything about it, and I'm trying to figure out how to get him to come clean. This is finally it, Naomi!"
"Oh, honey." Naomi sighed and waved the waitress over, ordering a bottle of rice wine. "Who is he?"
"Well, that's the funny thing. The Sentinel and the Master of the City are one and the same." Blair sipped his water, making a face at the faint taste of chlorine. "And he's not exactly chatty, you know?"
"If he wants his space, you have to give it to him," Naomi said. The waitress returned with the wine. "If he won't talk to you, what's the point in staying? There's still a lot of good you can do with your research."
Blair watched her take a hearty swallow of the amber-colored wine and wondered what her game was. She seemed to want him to leave Cascade, but why? Before he could ask, the waitress was back with their entrees and they spent a few minutes just savoring their food. Blair didn't eat Vietnamese very often, so it was a nice treat and he didn't mind taking a little extra time with his oxtail curry.
"Okay, out with it Naomi," he said finally. "Why are you really here? No obfuscating, if you please."
His mother scowled at him. "There's no reason to get combative, Blair. I'm just concerned about you. I'm a mother, it's my prerogative."
"I acknowledge your concern," Blair said dryly. "Will you tell me what's going on?"
"I think you're too obsessed with this Sentinel business," Naomi said, looking him in the eye. "The road you're going down is a dangerous one, and I don't think you've thought things through. I'm just asking you to get away from here for a while and clear your head."
Blair didn't understand her attitude. She'd always been so supportive of his research, why the about-face now? He was sure it couldn't be the vampire thing, not with his mother. She was a prominent, vocal member of the Vampire Rights Association, which promoted fair treatment of vampires. They were essentially the abolitionists of their time, only instead of trying to ban slavery they were trying to abolish laws that kept vampires from having equal status and being able to hold so-called high risk jobs in places like hospitals and schools.
"There's nothing dangerous about Sentinels, Naomi," Blair patiently explained. "They're protectors, remember?"
"Not this one."
"Why not?" He pushed, something he usually didn't do with his mother. He just wanted to understand.
"Blair…"
"No, you tell me why this is different."
"Because he's a vampire," she hissed.
"What? What the hell difference does that make?" Blair pushed his plate away. "Does the VRA support this attitude?"
"This has nothing to do with the VRA," Naomi said, still keeping her voice down. "This has to do with my only son willingly going into the lion's den, and for what? To prove some dusty piece of folklore?"
Blair could only gape at her, and she pressed her advantage, gesturing violently with her fork.
"You know nothing about what it means to work with a Sentinel, never mind one who was turned. I've seen a lot since I've been with the VRA, Blair, and I can tell you that it's not all good. Vampires can't fight their natures, not really, and this one is a Master. You can't fight that kind of power."
"You're an unbelievable hypocrite." Blair found his voice, and it was quivering with anger. "You can't run around spouting off about equal rights for vampires and in the next breath tell me they're all senseless bloodsuckers. Jim's not like that!"
"Oh, so it's Jim already? How do you know he hasn't glamoured you? You can't trust him to be what he seems, Blair, you know that."
He closed his eyes, forcing himself to take deep breaths before he said something he was going to regret. He didn't fight with his mother often, but when they did it usually dragged on for months before they worked out a resolution. He didn't want to get into one of those arguments, not now when he already had so much to deal with.
The waitress chose that moment to come back and see if they needed anything. Blair ordered an iced coffee. An uneasy silence grew between him and his mother while he thought about what he wanted to say. An image of the woman from his strange dream came unbidden to his mind, and when he finally broke the silence he led with that.
"I had a dream, my first night here. I was on a street, sometime in the past. A woman was there, with long red hair. She said her name was Bonnie, and that I had to finish what she started. She also said some things in another language, I think it was Gaelic."
"She spoke to you?" Naomi's voice was soft and almost reverent.
"Do you know who she is?"
"It's not right. It shouldn't have to be you."
"Who is she, Naomi?"
His mother sighed, and suddenly seemed to age before his eyes. Blair felt his breath catch, and part of him wished he hadn't mentioned the dream at all, not if it was going to put that beaten look on her face.
"Bonnie O'Shea. Our ancestor." Naomi poured herself another glass of wine and drank it in one gulp. "She'd been told by an old wise woman that it was her destiny to be a Guide to a Sentinel, and that this Sentinel would find her before her twentieth birthday. But he never came."
"I…what happened to her?"
"She waited, but eventually life moved on. She married a man named Jacob Sandburg. They had four children, none of whom stayed in Boston. The Sandburg's have been travelers since then. Your great-grandmother said it was as if Bonnie's children and their descendents were still looking for that Sentinel, scattering to the four winds and forever searching."
"You never told me any of this," Blair accused, having trouble sorting through his feelings. Angry, hurt, surprised, amazed…he didn't know which way to go. "When I told you what that Shaman told me, you never said a word. Didn't you think I should know that? Jesus!"
"I never wanted that for you, Blair. You have to understand." Naomi clutched one of his hands in her, holding it tight. "The life we had was wonderful, all that traveling around. You never would have been an anthropologist without it, don't you see? And there's still so much out there to explore. If you get tied to a Sentinel, you'll be stuck in one place. Honey, that's just not right for you."
"It's my choice, Naomi! I can't believe you kept something this important from me. I can't believe it!" Blair pulled his hand from hers.
"Think this through, sweetie," Naomi said desperately. "Bonnie was meant to be a Guide, but she lived a long and happy life without a Sentinel and so can you. If your Sentinel is a vampire, what will that mean for you? If you're his Guide, that's forever, right? Isn't that what your research indicated? He'll have to turn you. He'll have to kill you."
"I can't do this with you right now." Blair stood and threw some money on the table, even though it was supposed to be his mother's treat. "I need to process all this. I'll…I'll call you."
Naomi shot to her feet, reaching out for him but finding him just a step too far away. "Blair, sweetie, please…"
"No. Not now. I'll let you know when I'm ready."
With that Blair headed out into the dark night, his head so full he thought it might explode. He had an irrational desire to find Jim, which he shrugged off. He had no idea where to find the Master during the week, since Club Doom was only open Friday through Sunday. And it scared him a little that his first thought was to find the vamp. Instead he headed back to the hotel. He needed to meditate, needed to sort through what he'd learned.
He needed to stop thinking hateful thoughts about his mother.
AN: Blair certainly has a lot to process, poor boy. Shame on Naomi for keeping such important information from him. Mothers!
Sorry for the short chapter. I promise more exciting vamp action coming up next!
cháo long - Rice porridge with pork intestine, liver, gizzard, heart, and kidney. (I figure if you'll eat tongue, you'll eat just about anything, LOL! I know in the series Naomi is a vegetarian, but hey…AU!)
