Chapter 3
"The Party"
Cologne.
Entreri looked at the bottle with apprehension. It was a necessary thing in this culture where running water was a luxury and baths were still only taken once or twice a week. Entreri liked to bathe with a little more frequency and had rigged a hot water tank for his washroom, but it was still a chore.
Entreri had worn cologne before. He had been hired for several jobs where he had gone to balls and killed high-level officials. It was his job to blend in and he had looked, acted, spoke, and even smelled like all the other guests.
For this party he had bought a new set of clothes, had just gotten out of the bath, and had shaved. The difference now was that he was not just trying to blend in with the other guests; he was one of the other guests. Before he had always despised those people. They were all rich snobs who sneered at the lower class, but it was their extravagant lifestyles that drove up prices and taxes and created the lower class.
Now Entreri was one of them. In his own way, he was trying to raise the level of living for the lower class, not out of compassion for them, but to keep himself from being a hypocrite. It was also good business to treat his employees well. And that was the mind set he was going to need for this evening.
This party was not a social event for him. Yes there would be food and music and likely dancing, but he was there to improve his business. He was there to take stock in the financial structure of the city and find out how he could influence it. If that meant he had to have pleasant conversations, then he would. If he had to kiss a few hands (and asses), then he would do that. If he had to wear cologne, he would.
Artemis Entreri shook a few drops out of his bottle of "Midnight Surrender" on his hands and rubbed it into his neck. He adjusted his tie, put on a black hat, and walked out of his home into a new lifestyle.
There was a slight knock on the door. "Are you decent?"
Christine smiled at the all too familiar question. "Yes, Dad. You can come in."
Thurston Toole opened the door slowly, just like he always did. He had been very careful to protect her privacy this past year since she had returned from the academy, trying to instill in his own mind that she was no longer Daddy's little girl. She was 24-years-old now and had her own life. He tried to instill that in her by his actions, but had found that she was still very casual around him.
Sure enough, some of her undergarments were hanging over one of the chairs. At least her idea of decent had changed. She was fully dressed for a change. "I've brought you something," he said once he had closed the door behind him.
Christine turned from her mirror to look at her father. He was carrying a large box. "A present for me?" she asked, though it was a rhetorical question. She got up quickly, snatched the box from her father, and raced over to the bed to open it. She demonstrated all the excitement of a little girl, and it brought a smile to her father's face.
The ribbon was cut, the paper torn off, and the lid tossed aside. "Oh, Daddy, you shouldn't have." Christine held up a beautiful dress. "It's gorgeous, and it must have cost a fortune. You really shouldn't have."
"Of course I should have. This is a big night for you, and I want you to look your best."
"Thank you, but I mean you really shouldn't have," she repeated herself again, with a look over her father's shoulder. He turned and saw an equally beautiful gown hanging on a mannequin.
"Oh, you already bought one," he was completely dejected.
Christine was too excited to notice right away. "No, I made it myself," she said, casting her father's dress on the bed as she ran over to her own creation. "Isn't it perfect! And I had most of the fabric already so I only had buy a little bit. What do you think?"
"It is perfect, just like you. You are going to be a great seamstress."
"Not just a seamstress," she corrected. "I want to design my own clothes. I made this dress from a sketch of a dream I had. I could design my own line of clothing or make custom clothes for other people. They don't have stores like that here, not like they did down in Choraston. If Garrilport is going to be a big city, they are going to need to have their own fashions."
Thurston smiled at his daughter's enthusiasm. Most girls had passions and desires, but Christine had the education and determination to carry them through. He didn't know anything about fashion, but he could see her skill, and if her clothes sailed south on one of the many ships that left each week and sold well in the bigger cities, she could make quite a name for herself. She had the potential to be more successful than he was.
"So do you want me to take the dress back to the store?" he asked.
Christine gasped and put her hand over her mouth, realizing for the first time that she had upstaged her father's expensive gift. "Oh, I'm sorry Dad. I didn't mean to spoil your present. No, don't take it back. It is beautiful and I will wear it. Maybe if I meet the right one tonight, I will have another opportunity to get dressed up."
Her father smiled, but his tone grew serious. "Don't feel too much pressure tonight, honey. I don't want to force you into anything."
"No one is going to force me to do anything I don't want to do. You should know that by now," she winked.
"Okay, good. Then I'll see you downstairs in an hour?"
She nodded. "My friends should be arriving in about thirty minutes." He nodded, and she walked over to him. "Thanks for the dress, and for everything," she kissed him on the cheek. "I love you."
"I love you too," he replied, and then quickly left before the tear forming in his eye had a chance to roll down his cheek. As he walked downstairs he couldn't help but think that his little girl was definitely all grown up.
She would look gorgeous tonight in her dress too. Christine was taller than most girls, and while tall women were usually thin, Christine had hips and a chest that were not. And while the boys tended to like her proportions, dressmakers did not. Thurston had searched a good while for the dress he had bought, and he still wasn't completely sure it would fit right.
Garrilport did need a custom dressmaker. Christine would do well. In the year since she had returned from the Women's Academy in Choraston, the largest city along the Garill River, she had been working at a fabric store, trying to save up enough money to buy her own shop. Thurston had offered to give her the money several times, even as a loan with interest, but she had refused saying that he hadn't spent all that money on her schooling, so he could continue to support her financially when she got back.
Unlike most educated, independent thinking women of the day, she did want to get married. That was what tonight was mostly about. She had complained to her father about all the young boys walking into the fabric store, obviously not there to buy anything, but just there to try and get her attention. They were uninteresting, immature, and only after one thing.
Thurston had wanted to show her that not all men were like that, so he invited all the single members of the merchants' council to his home a few weeks back. As the men started to arrive, he had realized he had erred. The men were well-educated and successful yes, but they were also fat, ugly, and balding. Some of them were older than he was. In fact, most of them were older than he was.
Christine had thanked her father for the gesture, but had said she was looking for someone a little younger and better looking. And she wasn't interested in money. She wanted someone who was young, smart, good- looking, successful, but not filthy rich. She had her own goals, and as much as she wanted to get married and start a family, she didn't want it to interfere with her other plans.
"So basically you want everything," he had told her.
She had laughed, cocked her head, and responded, "Yep."
So Thurston had gone through the city finding young, attractive, successful men. In doing so he discovered that there were a lot more than he would have thought. So much so that he realized the current merchants' council was doing a poor job of running the city and there were a bunch of up-and-coming businessmen who had a lot of good ideas and could change the status of their city.
So he was killing two birds with one stone tonight. He had his agenda, and his daughter had hers. He just knew that tonight she was going to meet the man who would change her life forever.
Fredrick adjusted his coat for the umpteenth time. "How are you supposed to get dressed up without a mirror?" Fredrick was still getting used to the restrictions that went along with being a vampire. Not having a reflection was one of them. Not like they even had a mirror. They were in a cramped dirt cave. Fredrick had been through countless changes of clothes because of the dirt, while Alececarr had not changed once and did not appear to have one speck of dirt on him. It was probably because he spent most of his time in his coffin.
"A vampire's strength is a result of his confidence and inner power, not outward physical beauty." The ancient vampire was not in his coffin, but he too was getting ready for the night.
"That's easy for you to say," Fredrick came back, "you probably made the girls go crazy before you died."
Though Alececarr had become very fluent in this city's language, he still did not understand half of what Fredrick said. "The girls were not 'crazy' for me, as you say. I was an underachiever before I was reborn. My outward appearance is simply a reflection of the power within me. Over time, your face and body will take on the image of your inner demon as well."
Fredrick understood what his master said. Alececarr was very calm and patient. It had been two nights since they had fed on the women from the bar. Alececarr had spent that time meditating in the coffin. Fredrick on the other hand had been out each night. He was far too restless.
As a result of Alececarr's inner calm, his face was very placid and somber. Women looked into his eyes and saw peace and warmth. Fredrick thought about his own transformation as his death. Alececarr had called it his rebirth. That was what he truly believed, and that is what others thought would happen to them if they gave themselves over to this man, which they did without restraint.
Like wise, when Alececarr prepared to feed, and his inner demon awoke, his face was transformed accordingly. His teeth elongated, his brow furrowed, his eyes turned red, and his voice became a feral growl. Fredrick felt that way all the time and had to work hard to control his inner cravings.
"You will not betray us this night?" Alececarr asked. It was a question, but Fredrick understood it as a command as well. The nights he had been out before, he had fed on more drunks and vagrants, but from the clothes he was putting on, Alececarr could see he was going somewhere with a lot more respectable people.
"I will not. Tonight I will hunt. I do not plan to feed, though I will not pass up an opportunity should it present itself. But tonight's purpose is to prepare for my first true feeding. She is still not ripe, I will be patient."
Alececarr smiled. His prodigy was young and brash, but he was learning.
Dwarves are true smiths. They spend their lives in the forge fashioning marvelous weapons, but each truly great smith creates one weapon that can be seen as their crowning achievement. After it, they will never again achieve its greatness, but will savor that weapon till the end of their days.
Drow matron mothers do many great things in their lives from waging house wars to performing elaborate ceremonies for Lloth, but each matron mother is judged by one achievement above all other: How many daughters does she have? That is what determines their greatness, and that is what will grant them respect among their peers.
All races and cultures have that one moment in their life or that one great achievement that defines their lives. For a vampire it is the first hunt, fulfilling that first passion and desire. Realizing that one goal they could not achieve in their old life. It was through this process that they realized their true power, and it was the result of this process that shaped the way they would hunt for the rest of eternity.
Alececarr remembered his first hunt. The love of his life had already married and given birth, and it was this toddler that he had groomed to be his first. He followed the girl through her life, always influencing the things around her, guaranteeing that everything went her way. She succeeded in every aspect of her life. Every aspect except for one. Every man she met died. Every boy that expressed even the slightest interest in her met a horrible end. Every crush, every flirt, everyone was removed from her life in increasingly violent ways. Everyone, that is, until Alececarr stepped visibly into her life.
He wooed her and showed her all the care and respect that only someone who had followed her entire life could. Then, on the night she was willing to give herself to him. He told her who he was. He explained in clear detail how he had killed the men who had come before him. He explained how all of her successes had been his doing and how he had followed her since she was a baby. He told her this, she cried out in sorrow and anguish, and he took her.
Alececarr did not turn her. Instead he carried her lifeless body back to her mother, the woman who had first scorned him. He told her everything, and then killed her. He killed her husband and their children and grandchildren. He removed the family from the face of Faerun. That hunt had taken almost 30 years and it had taught him patience and efficiency, traits that had ruled his life ever since.
"Where will you go tonight?" Fredrick asked.
"I will visit the Dragon restaurant we were told about two nights ago. We must leave this cave. I am ready to build my army and it will be in the northern part of your city. This restaurant sounds like a good opportunity."
Fredrick was glad to hear this. He was getting very tired of this dank, muddy hole they lived in. They had dug their way to a sewer tunnel, allowing them to leave without traipsing through the Toole house, but it would be nice to have a building with a door and a bed.
Alececarr could feel Fredrick's impatience. "All things will come to pass in time. No one in this city can stop my rise to power. This place is without magic or power. No one here has the power to stop me." Alececarr began to laugh and Fredrick joined in. "Nobody will stop us!"
Entreri felt like a nobody.
It was a cool night and Entreri had decided to walk. It was either walk or ride a horse, and he didn't want his new clothes to smell, so he had walked. It was about a half mile to the center wall of the city that divided the north half from the south. Most people had to walk to the center of the city to pass through the opening at the guardhouse, but Entreri had made friends with the mechanics who operated the locks at the mouth of the river. The gear house bordered the river at the wall, and Entreri could get through there as well.
Once on the other side, it was another half mile down the bank of the river until he arrived at the Toole house. No one else had walked. Horse drawn carriages were lined up around the circular courtyard of the house, each taking their turn unloading their passengers and then driving off to the stable area.
Entreri was surely as rich as any of these people, but he didn't know how to live like it. So he felt very much like a nobody as he walked up the sidewalk to the front entrance of the house.
"Excuse me, sir," a doorman stepped up to stop Entreri, "this is an invitation only gathering. I'm going to have to ask you to leave."
"I am invited," the assassin replied curtly.
The doorman glanced briefly over at the carriages to see an elderly man in a tuxedo helping his wife, who wore enough diamonds to start a glass cutting company, out of a carriage that was the size of some of Entreri's ships. The doorman looked back at Entreri, who was nicely dressed, but not remarkably so. He had also obviously walked. "You are invited?"
"That is what I said," Entreri replied, keeping his anger down. "Do you have a guest list? My name is Artemis Entreri."
The doorman walked back to a podium at which the elderly couple was checking in. Entreri's name was toward the top of the alphabetical list. "You are Artemis Entreri?"
The doorman should have felt extremely lucky that Entreri had decided to leave all his weapons at home this night. Thurston saved him. "Artemis, I'm glad you could make it."
"Thank you for the invitation," Entreri said walking up the few steps to the main doorway.
"I hope you found the house okay."
"The house was easy to find, but the doorway seems to be a bit elusive," Entreri replied, casting a look at the suddenly timid doorman.
"Oh, don't worry about Bently," Thurston said jovially, though Entreri could see him giving the doorman an evil eye, "he's just being an ass, but that's what I pay him for. Please, come inside."
Entreri accepted the offer and walked through the arched doorway into a vaulted entrance hall. A house servant approached him to take his coat, but Entreri's jacket was part of his attire and he kept it. The foyer had a large chandelier over the center of the room, and a modest stairway leading up to the right.
"Continue on into the living room please, I must stay here and be hospitable."
Entreri did as he was told. The living room was vast and cleared of furniture. Straight ahead led back outside to a large wooden deck that looked out over the river. A few steps led off the deck to a small lawn where a couple pavilions were set up. To Entreri's left was a darkened hallway leading to a bathroom and a study.
To his right was an open dinning room with the huge table removed from the center and much smaller tables lining the walls with an assortment of appetizers. Next to the dinning room was the kitchen, and the batwing doors kept flipping back and forth as the cooks continually refilled the tables.
Beyond the dinning room was the ballroom where Entreri could see a few instruments set up, but no players yet and the lights were dimmed. There was also a very elaborate 90-degree spiral staircase emptying into the ballroom. It was a beautiful house.
Entreri also took notice of the people. He was not the only one not wearing a tuxedo. In fact, the majority of the men in attendance were dressed very similarly. It was only the older men who wore tuxes. Also, the older men seemed to be the only ones with wives. Other than a handful of older people, the house was filled with about 30 single men ages 25 to 40. Things looked a little suspicious.
Entreri had dealt with a few merchants in the city, and scanned the crowd to see if any of them were here. He wanted someone to talk with to see if they knew any more about this gathering than he did. But as far as he could see, there was no one here he knew.
"Art, I didn't expect to see you here."
Entreri turned at the familiar voice. "Captain Irenum," Entreri replied, the annoyance in his voice carefully hidden.
"Is that cologne I smell?"
Entreri didn't say anything, staring holes into the captain's head.
"That has to go against the assassin's credo."
"Number four says, 'Don't pass gas upwind of your prey,'" Entreri replied dryly.
"In other words, blend in with your surroundings," John said. Despite himself, Entreri was impressed by John's accurate interpretation. "Well then, I must say you are doing an excellent job. You look just like every other stuck-up rich person in this room."
Entreri let the insult roll off him. "You don't." John was dressed very casually. "In fact, why are you even here? When did you enter the arena of finances?"
"Excuse me?" John was fidgeting with the table behind them and not really listening.
"That's what this gathering is for, right?" Entreri asked, already having figured out that it wasn't. "Why were you invited?"
"Thurston paid me a visit," John said. "He told me what a great job I was doing running the guardhouse at a relatively young age and said that I had the potential to do big things. The city is growing and the leadership is getting old. We need young men to step up and take charge. He said much of that would be discussed tonight."
"So you want to join politics?" Entreri sounded doubtful.
"Nothing could be further from the truth. I want to put in my 25 years of service for the city, retire with a pension and raise horses."
"Then why did you come?"
John held up a piece of jumbo shrimp and some meat and cheese between crackers. "The food at these things is great."
Entreri shook his head. He kept looking over the crowd and finally saw one or two more people that he might have recognized but decided they weren't worth tracking down. He had a feeling that everything would be sorted out shortly. He was right.
"May I have your attention please," Thurston shouted as he walked through the crowd. The group quieted, and those on the deck came inside. Thurston walked to the end of the dining room and turned around. Behind him the musicians began setting up and the lights in the ballroom came on full.
"I'd like to thank you all for coming tonight. I'm sure you are all curious to find out what this gathering is all about, but I thought we would take some time to loosen up first and socialize a bit. Some of you might know each other; in fact, some of you might be competitors and wish financial ruin on each other. But tonight we are all on the same side.
"Garrilport is growing and we can all grow with it. Not at each other's expense, but toward everyone's gain. So talk, trade ideas, learn knew things about the city. At the same time, have a good time, eat, drink, and dance. I'll be around to talk to each of you."
With that the band began to play, and a few of the older couples ventured out onto the ballroom floor. The rest of the men just looked at each other awkwardly. "Would you like to dance?" Entreri asked John.
"Bad knee," the captain replied, shaking his head and stuffing his face. Those others who hadn't realized it yet were now noticing that this was a very stag party. They murmured for a while, and then quickly quieted down.
All eyes turned to the spiral staircase in the ballroom. Descending, in all the regal splendor of a royal court were the women. Christine led the group, followed by almost a dozen of her friends. The women ranged in age from 20 to 30, each dressed in a fabulous gown.
"That would be Toole's daughter," John whispered to Entreri.
John didn't need to point out which one. She had her father's stature and firm jaw. She was also the most alluring one in the group, and if her father had collected the cities most eligible bachelors for her perusing, she would have been silly to invite anyone more attractive than she. Not that the other women weren't beautiful in their own right, but it was hard to compete with Thurston Toole's only child.
There is an inherent problem in all men.
The average man has an incredible knack for devoting himself entirely to a task. If they strive to be the best at something, then they will work at it until they achieve their goal or prove it cannot be done. Women often call this stubbornness, but for a man it is called determination. As a result it is more often than not men who become the leaders in their community. They are the ones with the inventions and the marketable skills.
The problem arises when they try to devote themselves to more than one thing at a time. Women are great at this. Men stink at it. The men Thurston invited to this party were single for a reason. They had devoted their lives to their craft. They had gone to school or trained as an apprentice or learned from their father and they had devoted all of their energies toward their goals and had immerged successful. It was not as if they hadn't noticed women, but they just hadn't had time.
There were men that devoted themselves exclusively to the pursuit of women. These were the ones that came into the fabric shop to flirt with Christine. These were the ones that whistled at girls on the street or went to bars to work on their pick up lines. These were the types that Christine and her friends were trying to avoid.
The women knew all this and were prepared for it. They were thus willing to put forth the effort to bring these men out of their shells. If they had to initiate conversation then they would do it if it meant they had a chance to land a husband whose primary skill was not belching the alphabet (and belching it out of order, as Christine had heard some do).
So as the women made it to the floor, and approached the herd of men, they were not surprised when, instead of stepping up to meet them, they stepped aside to let the women walk by, as if they were just passing through. So the women began to break off, walking right up to their pick, often cornering them against the wall and then dragging them onto the dance floor.
Christine had moved to the center of her friends, scanning the crowd for her first 'victim' of the night. All the eyes she met looked away quickly, or were too timid to even meet her gaze in the first place. She was determined to find someone that had at least some level of confidence. After a few anxious moments, she did find someone and moved toward him.
The few friends who were in front of Christine continued to plow ahead, and the crowd parted for them like water around the hull of a ship. They too wanted to find a man who was not scared of a little lace and perfume. They found him toward the back.
The crowd had parted, but this man had not moved an inch. He stood in the middle of the room and the crowd seemed to hush as they looked at him. He was lean, just a hair over six feet. He had blond hair, blue eyes, and perfect posture. His lips smiled revealing white teeth inside dimpled cheeks.
The women at the front of the pack swooned, and Fredrick smiled even more. He had only been a vampire for a few days, but already could feel the changes in his body. All the fat had disappeared, any hint of acne was gone, his hairline would never recede any further, scars had disappeared, and even his teeth had gotten whiter. Alececarr had told him that his outward appearance would conform to his inner strengths. Well, right now he felt he was the sexiest man alive, and none of the women were going to argue with him.
The three women in front of Christine practically elbowed each other as they raced forward, trying to snag this tasty treat. "Excuse me, ladies," he said before any of them could think of an opening line. He politely pushed through them, touching two of them gently on their bare skin. His cold touch sent chills through their bodies.
Christine saw him coming toward her and stopped. This was not the man she had picked out earlier, and she didn't know what to think about him. Fredrick looked at all the other women with only one thing on his mind, and that is what they felt, but when he looked at Christine, the object of his hunt, there was power mixed with his desire.
Christine was both excited and frightened by this young man. His face seemed very familiar, but as a cold crept into her lungs as he drew near, she knew she would have remembered if she had seen him before. "You are surely the fairest flower in this bouquet of feminine beauty," he said. "Would you honor me with a dance?"
Now Christine was the timid one. Her body yearned to say yes but her mind screamed a warning. The way he looked at her made her feel weak and afraid. He caressed her body with his eyes, making her feel violated inside. There was nothing calm or peaceful about this man, but something inside her didn't care. Suddenly the words romance and chivalry were just silly notions of a romance novel. Power and lust were what pumped blood through a person's body. Her mind screamed no, but her body screamed yes, and in a moment her body was going to win.
But the moment took too long. "Perhaps another time then," he said, turning away from her when he saw the inner turmoil inside her was nearly won. This was a hunt, and he would be patient. Before the time came she would beg at his feet.
"I . . ." she started, but Fredrick was already in the hands of one of her friends, whisking away to the dance floor. She looked after them for a while, but with his presence and gaze departed, she shook the chill from her spine and continued on.
Entreri had been the only one in the room confident enough to return Christine's gaze. As she approached, she took full stock of the man. He was likely one of the oldest ones here, but he had aged well, unlike some of the much younger men, who were getting a little thick in the middle and thin on top. He held himself with an air of confidence that was very much lacking in the other men. He actually reminded her of her father.
"Would you care to dance?" she asked.
Entreri took a moment to register her words. His mind was still on the confrontation he had just witnessed. Something had happened that was not natural. The veteran of the realms had seen too much magic and too many powerful creatures not to recognize that there was more to this strange young man than met the eye.
"Ah, my lady, I would greatly wish to dance with you but for these two left feet I have," Entreri said eloquently. "Perhaps my friend could assist you to make up for my inadequacy."
They both turned to John who was currently trying peer over the crowd to see if there was more cheese dip on the table across the room. He felt them looking at him and turned to see. "Excuse me?"
"This lady is in need of a dance partner. Would you be kind enough to assist her?"
John briefly scowled at Entreri and then smiled at Christine. "Of course." They walked to the dance floor, and Entreri sought out Christine's mysterious suitor. The assassin watched for the next few minutes as Fredrick changed partners several times, but always had his eyes on Christine. She kept casting nervous glances at him over John's shoulder, but always looked away when she met his eyes.
Finally, she couldn't take it anymore, thanked John at the end of the song, and left the dance floor. She walked past Entreri without a word, went through the living room, and then out on the deck. Entreri stayed where he was, munching on a few appetizers and watching Fredrick's reaction.
When John came back he looked flush. "Are you okay?" Entreri asked.
"Yes I'm fine, thank you. I'd like some wine."
Entreri motioned to a waiter, and he brought each man a glass. John downed his quickly and then went back to work on the food. "Do you know who that is?" Entreri asked, motioning to the dance floor in Fredrick's direction.
John looked and shook his head. "No, I don't. If he is a merchant in the city, then he has never had need of the city guard."
Entreri didn't think John would be much help, but he though he would try anyway. On the dance floor, Fredrick was trying to pry himself away from the women and follow Christine. He slipped neatly into a crowd of dancers, and then slipped out the other side and made his way through the dining room. Once the women saw he had escaped, they turned to the other men.
The vampire passed within four feet of Entreri as he made his way to the living room and then undoubtedly the deck. As he walked by, the hairs on the back of Entreri's neck stood up, and an unconscious chill went through him. He waited a few moments and then followed.
Christine was the only one on the deck. She leaned on the railing with her elbows, looking out over the peaceful river. She just needed some fresh air. She wasn't sure who that mysterious stranger was, but she had to get him out of her mind. While he was definitely one of the more attractive men here tonight, that wasn't all she was after. She wanted someone confident and smart and sure of themselves. The only quality this stranger exuded was danger, and that wasn't good.
John had seemed like a nice man. He was tall, strong, and a little unsure of himself in a social setting, but he was more than capable of handling himself in a variety of other situations. There were probably lots of other men just like him in there. She needed to go find one. The bad boy image wasn't healthy.
"You remember me, don't you?"
The voice was unmistakable. Christine fought with the desire to run away from this man, but curiosity overcame her suddenly. "Yes," she replied hesitantly, "I mean I think so. Uh, I don't know."
Fredrick leaned his elbows against the railing, mimicking her pose and also looking out over the river. "I've always been with you. I always will be with you."
"Who are you?" she asked, turning to look at him. He was still looking forward and his silhouette was outlined by the moon. She gasped. He was gorgeous. Her mind recognized his face, but it had changed slightly in the past few days, and there was no way she was going to place him as one of the men who came into her shop all the time. That boy, for that is what she thought of them, was rash, lewd, and immature. This was someone else. When she looked at him all she got was a very intense feeling of déjà vu.
"I've dreamt about you, haven't I?" She had many dreams. She had dreamed of this night for that is where she got her idea for the dress. She had danced in her dream. Who had she danced with? Was it this man? Is that why he was so familiar?
"You have dreamed of me every night, just as I have dreamed of you," he said slowly. "While this is our first meeting, we are not strangers."
"I want to know you," she said without thinking and then bit her lip and looked back at the river, wishing to pull back those words.
"You already know me," he replied. He finally turned to look at her, leaning over to whisper in her ear. "Look deep inside your heart. There you will find me pumping through you." He quickly flicked her ear with his tongue and then left before she could respond.
Entreri was standing by the door, and as Fredrick walked away from his prey, Entreri turned and started to walk, as if he was on his way to the deck instead of just standing there. The two men exchanged looks and time froze for a moment. It was not a casual glance, but an exchange between two rivals. Entreri had seen Drizzt look at him like that many times, only the dark elf never had a fraction of the glib indifference that Fredrick showed. He saw Entreri as a fly circling his food. They were both after the same thing, but the vampire did not feel threatened.
They locked eyes, and then the moment passed and both continued on as if nothing had happened. Fredrick went back to the dance floor, and Entreri out onto the deck. "Did you hear that?" Christine asked when she turned and saw Entreri behind her.
"Hear what?" he lied. "I just wanted to apologize for not taking you up on your previous offer." He smiled at her and offered her his glass of wine.
"Thank you." She took the drink and sipped it. They lapsed into silence. Christine waited past the point of embarrassment and then spoke, "Is there something you wanted to say?"
Entreri had forgotten where he was for a moment, his mind going back to his battles with Drizzt and his confusion about this new potential enemy. But did he really want to fight him for Christine? He was never one to avoid conflict, but to engage himself in this situation didn't make any sense.
"Huh," he responded.
"I didn't think so," she said and walked past him back into the house.
Entreri sighed and suddenly wished he had never come. He could be back in his restaurant right now instead of fighting some imaginary battle with some mysterious stranger over a woman he had no interest in.
Entreri sighed again, tried to take a sip of wine, realized he had just given his glass away, and then went inside to get another.
Alececarr was sitting in The Dragon's Lair. While the atmosphere of the restaurant was still far below his usual standards, it was the nicest he had seen so far. He understood from Fredrick that almost all of the restaurants in the south were at least this good or better, but he also understood that the city guards patrolled the streets down south and every potential victim was a son or a daughter or a wife or a father. In short, their feeding would not go unnoticed.
Alececarr needed to set up some roots in this city. The north was his only option, and a bar or restaurant seemed like the best choice. This was the nicest place available, so Alececarr was very interested in meeting management.
"Good evening sir, may I start you off with something to drink?" The waiter was polite and direct, though it looked like he hadn't bathed in quite some time.
"A wine list, please," the vampire responded, "and I was wondering if I could talk to the owner."
The waiter had expected as much. This guest was quite obviously not a northerner, and it seemed like everyone who came from the south wanted to speak with the boss. The young man produced a wine list and placed it on the table. "I will see if the owner is available."
Alececarr looked over the wine list and was mildly impressed. A few moments later another man came to the table. "Good evening sir, my name is Dorin Fletch. I'm afraid Mr. Entreri is not here at the moment. Is there something I can help you with?"
"Entreri is the owner?"
"Yes, sir." Dorin was a bit taken aback. He had asked for the owner, how could he not know who that was? "I am the foreman for Borgain Construction, and I run the restaurant in his absence."
"I see," Alececarr replied. "When will he return?"
"He did not say, only that he would be gone tonight on personal business. If you would like to leave a message for him-"
"No, no, that will be okay." The vampire wanted to turn Entreri into a vampire and take over this establishment. It was tough to leave that in message form. "I will return another night."
"Can I get you something to eat anyway?"
"I believe I'll just have a glass of your red wine tonight, thank you."
"Nothing to eat?" Dorin asked again, taking the wine list and motioning to a waiter to bring the drink.
"I'll let you know if I see anything I like."
Dorin took the drink from the waiter and set it on the table. "Of course," he replied and walked away.
Alececarr sipped his wine and looked around at the other guests in the restaurant, trying to see if there was anything he liked.
The rest of the night at the Toole home was relatively uneventful. Fredrick had left. Both Entreri and Christine had looked for him after their brief meeting on the deck, but he was gone. Christine tried to continue with the rest of the night as planned, but her mind was elsewhere.
Fredrick had turned into a curse on her mind. He was like a song stuck in her head, and she didn't even know his name. By the end of the night she hadn't gotten to know anyone else, despite efforts to socialize. She had almost convinced herself that he was psycho, and that she didn't know him at all, and her mind was just playing tricks with her. But it wasn't true, and she knew it.
Entreri had significantly more luck. When Fredrick had disappeared, he stopped thinking about him. If he wanted Christine and was casting some kind of spell on her, then more power to him. Instead, the up-an-coming businessman spent the rest of his night talking with other merchants.
By the end of the night, he had found two more dealers who could turn his dragon gems into usable currency, had found a discount dealer for nails and fasteners for his ships, and struck a deal with a local printer to get color menus for his restaurant. Everyone he talked to also promised to come and visit his restaurant, but he didn't put too much weight behind that. People didn't just casually make trips through the northern section of town.
As the people began to file out Christine tried to salvage the night, meeting them at the door to thank them for coming. As the men filed past, she realized she hadn't met half of them, and couldn't remember the other half's names. She had danced with a few, and hoped they would call on her in a few days, but she was sure she had come off as being largely disinterested due to her distraction.
She smiled as she finally came to someone she remembered, though she didn't even know his name. "We were never properly introduced," she said as he started to leave.
"My apologies," he replied. "My name is Artemis Entreri." Entreri didn't know what to say next. He wanted to leave and go home, but felt there was probably something else he should say.
Christine smiled at the silence. "Is there something you wanted to say?" she asked, repeating her question from earlier that night.
"Your dress is beautiful," he settled with.
"Thank you," she responded. Many people had said she was beautiful that night, but no one had commented on her dress.
"You're welcome. The seamstress did an excellent job."
"I made it myself," Christine replied, beaming quite noticeably.
"My compliment stands," Entreri smiled, tipped his hat in a bow, and walked out of the house, letting out a long sigh as he did. He hoped he wouldn't have to do that again for a long while.
Behind him men continued to file out, and Christine said good night. She was interrupted as one of her friends came rushing up to her. "Hi, Sarah, did you have a good time?"
"It was a great party, Christy, thanks for inviting us, but have you seen Betty? She and I came here together, but I can't find her anywhere. She wouldn't leave without me, would she?"
"I wouldn't think so," Christine replied, nodding to two more departing guests. "I'll let you know if I see her."
"Freddy! Freddy, stop! Slow down!" Betty screamed.
Fredrick brought the horse under control and slowed him to a trot. "Aw, come on. You have to live a little."
"I think we've lived quite a bit tonight already, don't you?"
Fredrick turned on the horse to look at her. "You don't want to quite now, do you?" he gave her a wink.
"If you put it that way . . ." she smiled.
"Good. Let's go!" He kicked the horse into a gallop.
"Freddy!" she screamed again but just decided to hold on tight and enjoy it.
They were a mile south of town on a horse Fredrick had stolen from the Toole stable, though he had said it was his. They were riding along the road about fifty feet away from the river. The road was well traveled, but it was late and they hadn't seen anyone yet.
After a minute of fast riding, Fredrick yanked the reins to the right, and they dove off the road into the grass and trees along the bank. Betty wanted to scream again, but she was too scared. The ground fell away near the river, and her stomach was suddenly in her throat. Then as quickly as it had started, Fredrick brought the horse to a halt in a large level clearing right next to the river.
"How was that?" he asked, turning in the saddle to look her in the eye.
Betty had a very difficult time catching her breath. "It . . . (pant) . . . it was . . . (pant) . . ." But Fredrick kissed her before she could finish her thought. It was a long, slow kiss, and Betty's breathing reduced dramatically, but her heart rate only increased.
Fredrick broke it off suddenly and slipped off the horse. "It was what?"
Though she no longer gasped for air, her chest still rose and fell from her heavy breathing and her eyes were lost somewhere in space. Words wouldn't come to her. Fredrick smiled as he pulled her off the horse. She fell into his arms, and drew toward him for more, but he pushed her away for now.
"This is a great spot," he said, walking to the middle of the clearing as he kicked off his boots and socks. "The river comes into this spot right here and there is virtually no current." He took off his jacket and shirt and jumped in the water.
Fredrick swum out a ways and turned back to look at his date. She was frowning. "I'm not going in the water."
"Why not?"
"I'm wearing a dress, silly boy."
"Then take it off."
It was as if the idea had never occurred to her. She looked around for a moment, to see if anyone was watching, but obviously no one was. She started to reach back for the zipper, but stopped. "I don't know."
Fredrick stood up in a shallow part of the river, water running down his muscular chest, his cotton pants clinging to his legs. "You'll enjoy it."
That was all the encouragement she needed. She unzipped the back, slid it over her head, and hung the dress on a tree branch. She walked to the edge of the water and kicked off her shoes. She hesitated a moment, standing there in a corset and underwear. Fredrick leaped out of the water, faster than she could have imagined, and pulled her in.
She screamed, but quickly shut her mouth as they both went under. They surfaced, wrestled briefly, and ended the session with another kiss. "See," Fredrick said, their faces only a few inches apart, "I said you would enjoy it."
"Yes, but why did we have to come way out here? There are lots of places to swim closer to town."
"True," Fredrick admitted, "but down here, no one will hear you scream."
She pushed away and playfully splashed him in the face. "Oh, Freddy, you're awful," she laughed, misunderstanding what he was really talking about.
With a smile on his face, Fredrick pulled her close again and showed her what he was really talking about. She did scream. No one heard her.
Not surprisingly, Christine couldn't sleep that night. She tossed and turned in her bed. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw Fredrick's face. She still didn't have a name for him, and he was just "Him." She feared what her dreams would be like if she ever got to sleep. That He would be in them was not in question, but what role would he play? Long lost friend? Lover? Tormenter? Savior? All of the above?
She sat up in bed. The curtains to her balcony were blowing in the wind. She thought she remembered closing the door. She looked around the room. He was sitting on a chair a few feet from the balcony door. She wasn't frightened and moved to light her oil lamp.
"No. Don't do that. Leave the light off. I am not really here. I am just a dream."
Christine smirked despite the situation. "That's a good thing, because my father would kill you if you had actually sneaked into my room at night."
"You are a grown woman, Christine. Your father does not tell you what you can or cannot do anymore. You must think for yourself now." He paused. "What do you want?"
Christine struggled with the question. She wanted a store. She wanted a family. She wanted a nice young man. She wanted Him. She wanted everything.
"It is not such a difficult question," he said after she remained silent.
"Not if you have all the answers," she bit back.
"Fair enough, what do I know that you don't?"
She paused. "I want to know your name?"
Somehow, even though his face was cloaked in shadow, she could "hear" him smile. "Tonight you will dream, and you will give me a name." He let her think about that for a while. "You do know that you will dream about me?"
"Yes," she admitted. They lapsed into silence.
"Do you want to see me again?"
"I don't know," Christine replied honestly.
"Think about your dreams this night. What will they be about? How will you feel when you wake up? What will your memories of me be?"
Christine knew the answers to these questions but did not say them out loud. Instead she answered his first question. "Yes, I do want to see you again."
He smiled again. "Good," he said, getting up from his chair and stepping over to the curtains.
"When will I see you again?" she asked a bit too eagerly.
"When the time is right and all your uncertainties are answered. Now, lie down and go to sleep. Sweet dreams, my love." He walked through the curtains, and when they blew apart again a few seconds later, the balcony was empty.
Feeling more at ease, Christine lay down, closed her eyes, and fell into a deep sleep.
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All of you who have read so far and had been patient with me, thank you. The next chapter has lots of Entreri in it. I've been told that people do not like original characters, but I've also been told that fanfiction doesn't have enough well-developed original characters. For this story to work, Entreri needs the characters of Fredrick, Christine, Thurston Toole, and Alececarr to be well developed. Maybe this wasn't nearly as frustrating to read as I'm making it out to be and everyone has enjoyed the past three chapters, though my brother has already asked, "Why is Entreri even there? It seems like he is just there for filler." Trust me, he isn't. All will become clear. Please let me know if I go too far with Entreri's character. He is going to do some pretty radical stuff. The cologne is just the beginning. :)
Oh, and I haven't completely settled on a new name for Fredrick. If Angel wasn't taken, that would have been perfect. I'm still debating between a few others, but I'm not really happy with any of them. Suggestions are welcome.