Hunger Moon
i
A full Hunger Moon shines over Tampa Bay. People stop to marvel at its perfect round shape, its brightness against the dark sky. Amy Riordan feels a shudder standing outside a café called The Haunted Coffee Bar. There is something evil in this night.
A pleasant voice greets her, "Hi, Amy."
A tall, balding man suddenly brushing at her sleeve startles Amy, "Hello." Not knowing who it is.
The man places left hand to his chest, "It's me, Buddy Bainbridge from Albany."
"Oh." Amy recognizes the name: her most loyal fan, according to him. They have corresponded through her Facebook group. He always leaves several comments on her YouTube travel vlogs.
"Nice finally meeting you in person." tears well up in Buddy's eyes, his voice filled with hope, "Can I buy you a drink or something?"
"I'm meeting someone here." Amy received a hand-written invitation for this meeting, "Thank you for the offer." A postscript warning not to miss it.
There is dejection in Buddy's voice, "Who with?" sounding like a jealous suitor.
"Excuse me." Amy enters the establishment, inhaling the air an intoxicating mixture of roasting coffee beans and sweet pastry, tasting both going down her throat.
Dozens of customers crowd tables around the green and lavender room. People chatty and well dressed. Overhead are four large ceiling fans, a long coffee bar to the right of the door.
In back of the coffee bar is a lounge with brick walls, leather sofas, chairs and small square palmwood tables. A band of three men and two women entertain those gathered there with Coldplay's Clocks.
Amy saunters up to the coffee bar, looking over the selections written neatly on a chalk board.
A tall, slender man with a pleasant smile asks, "What can I get for you tonight?"
"Sumatra Black Satin Coffee with cream, one sugar." Her favorite coffee.
"We just made a fresh pot. It has been a popular brew this evening." removing a purple and green cup from a pile, grabbing the red handle of a coffee pot from a machine behind him, pouring the coffee, mixing in milk poured from a white pitcher; putting on a white lid before handing it back to her in less than two minutes.
The Haunted Coffee Bar prides itself on customer service.
"How much?" Amy enjoys the music. She has seen the band before, they are The Five Scorpions, a popular local band playing classic and modern tunes. Sadly, they do not grant interviews.
The man waves his hand, "For you, on the house tonight." Handing her a purple paper plate with eight assorted biscotti on top, "Our treat. Enjoy."
Amy thanks him. She met a man in Arizona, Larry Driscoll. Over a few shots of whiskey, he told her many fascinating stories; one was about a woman in 1930's Hollywood named Louise von Plessen, a two hundred and forty-one year old vampirette, drug dealer and madam.
Amy walks to the single free table in the center of the room; pulling out a chair, feeling eyes watching, making her uneasy. The moon shines on her like a spotlight. Looking around noticing the portrait of a pretty brunette with almond shaped eyes and full lips, dressed all in green, carrying a teal parasol; she stands in a garden setting surrounded by red and pink roses. This painting is by the great Victorian portrait artist, Franz Xaver Winterhalter.
The door opens, in walks a pretty brunette with almond shaped eyes and full lips, wearing an ankle length yellow dress, long purple leather coat. Amy sees the lady's face scowling as she draws closer, pulling out a chair to sit.
"Hello."
The lady just glares at her.
"I'm Amy Riordan."
"I know who you are. Amy Riordan born December 30, 1986 in Cincinnati, Ohio, an only child. You attended St. Vivien's School, then Ohio State. Never married, now travel and interview people for your You Tube channel, very successful, very brave. You love adventure."
"You are Louise von Plessen, Chief Executive Assistant to the ruler of the world."
Louise rolls her eyes, shaking her head, "Larry." gaze focuses again on the pretty blonde across from her, "You mentioned my name, called me out for an interview. That was very bad."
"Yes, but in that live stream people heard the name Mabel Strassman." Larry said Louise von Plessen, Amy said Louise von Plessen; Amy was shocked by the comments that her viewers heard Mabel Strassman. They insisted she get an interview with the vampirette. The video has since disappeared.
The corner of Louise's mouth lifts for a sinister smile, "We both know the truth, even if no one heard it. We heard it correct."
A chubby man makes way over, placing a tall purple and green cup down on the table in front of Louise, "Jamaican Blue Mountain, lots of cream, no sugar your favorite, Dushenka." Taking her out stretched hand to kiss tenderly.
"Greg, you spoil me."
"Anything you want." squeezing Louise's hand, casting a sinister glance towards Amy.
"It won't be necessary, we're just two girls having a chat over coffee." Shooing him away with her well-manicured fingers telling Amy, "I saved him from being murdered by the Bolsheviks. Almost one hundred years and he still can't do enough for me. Now that's loyalty."
Amy hesitates before asking, "Is it hard?"
"What?"
"Living so long."
"I adapted over time, changed my name now and then. My existence cannot be compared to yours." Louise takes a pistachio and cardamon biscotti, "What else do you wish to know?"
Amy lifts her coffee cup, "How did you become what you are?"
Louise lets out a sigh shifting in her chair, "I was born in Cannes, France. My father was Alexandre, Duc of Canua. I was the youngest of ten children six girls, four boys. We were very rich." Louise removes the white lid of the cup, dipping the biscotti into the coffee.
Amy did her research, "Your father was killed in the Revolution."
"No loss. He wasn't a very nice man."
"What was it like for you growing up?"
"My sisters and I were treated like property, given little to no education. My five elder sisters were all married off at sixteen." Louise takes a bite of the biscotti.
"I'm sorry." Amy takes a chocolate chip, raspberry biscotti.
"I had a brother, Marcel, he was mentally challenged. He was sweet and simple. He loved singing. My brother Armand hated him, so did my father. When Marcel was thirteen, he soiled himself in church, he cried over it. He tried always to be good. Armand took him home. He gave Marcel sweet cakes with arsenic meant for the rats, and simply watched him die. My father had the servants cut up Marcel's body and feed it to our pigs. No one cared, no one asked questions."
Amy does not know what to say to this cruelty; giving her biscotti a second glance before biting into it.
"When I was thirteen our family priest, Father Gaston Bouvier, raped me. He made me do things in the name of the saints and the blessed mother. He told me about Marcel, said if I didn't behave the same thing would happen to me. I wonder to this day why I didn't kill myself. Then I met Fletcher Jenkins."
"He made you a vampirette?"
Louise shakes her head, "No, but he was responsible for it, in a way." She hasn't thought about those things in years, "It was 1787, I was sixteen. Fletcher arrived in France on a mission for his uncle, the Duke of Middlesex. Lord Percival wanted a rare red diamond necklace he insisted belonged to the Jenkins family. Percival promised Fletcher if he retrieved it, he would finally acknowledge him as Heir to the Duchy, which came with great wealth and lots of land. Fletcher was greedy and ambitious. I wanted out of my father's house. That's how my journey began once upon a time."
ii
The Massie family has one of the grandest gardens in all of France: rose bushes, purple and white lilac bushes, lavender, poppies, stone benches, statues of various Greek gods and goddesses. There are grape vines, topiary trees, olive trees, sculpted hedges and a rippling stone pond. The palace looks out over the sea.
"You mustn't cry, Gabrielle." Fletcher Jenkins sits on a bench beside the pretty girl in red and white, "All is not lost for us." He has not come all this way to France to lose, "The Ball is in a few hours." A ruggedly handsome man with dark brown hair and perfect teeth.
Gabrielle's head is bent, she speaks in a whisper, "Mama says I must wear white and be presentable tonight. She chastises me for bringing shame to the family." Everyone knows about the priest, they blame her for it entirely, "She is going to marry me off to Count Laurent, he's sixty." Burying her face in a white kerchief, crying like a trapped animal.
Fletcher's tone is sharp, "That will not happen, but you must be brave for me."
Gabrielle shakes her head, "Sometimes I feel such despair." It drives her mad, "But what you ask, I cannot do."
Fletcher stands up, "You have two choices, come with me or stay here. There is nothing else. Coming with me means you will have to do things. Staying here means the same, but which will keep you in hell longer." He has heard rumors of Revolution, her family is not well liked, "There is no sin today, only justice."
Gabrielle lowers her hands staring at the grass, "I will do it for you." Having no choice really.
Fletcher kneels in front of her, "I promise life will be good when we go to England. I will be Duke, and you will be a Duchess. Place your faith in me. Do what I have planned."
Gabrielle nods her head. Her future in France is bleak, with Fletcher there is hope.
A half hour later, in Palace Isabelle's Golden Hall Gabrielle stands at one of the French doors admiring the herb gardens, the sea view beyond.
Armand breathlessly enters the Hall, "I came as fast as I could." He had tea with Gabrielle and Fletcher yesterday. They spoke of many things.
Gabrielle does not turn to face him, "Your wife is getting fat." Everyone mentions it.
Armand insists, "She is pregnant." For the fifth time; no matter, there are plenty of other bodies to enjoy in the palace.
Gabrielle glances at him, fluttering her eyelids, "I can do with my mouth for you what I do for the priest." Father Bouvier threatened to slit her throat if she did not do it correctly.
Armand beams, "Yes." The thought is exciting of the deed being performed on him by his sisster.
"You'll like what I'm going to do for you." Gabrielle says sweetly, "You brought it with you?"
"I had to ask Mama for it. She wasn't happy about Dominique wearing it tonight." His wife being fat, "But she gave in." Armand is her favorite.
Gabrielle insists, "Let me see it first."
Armand reaches into his pocket pulling out the sparkling red diamond necklace, colors of which dance over the golden room.
Gabrielle's attention turns back towards the gardens, "Do you trust Lord Fletcher?"
Armand shakes his head insisting, "No."
"Look at him, standing there in the gardens. I am sure he is plotting something sinister." Gabrielle smiles at Fletcher, she is suddenly excited.
Armand whispers, "Gabrielle." She promised they could do it right there on the golden floor, only if she could wear the Red Diamond necklace. He will go to confession later. Father Bouvier enjoys hearing such things.
"Unbutton your pants."
As Armand begins, Gabrielle turns around, lifting an eight inch Rifleman's knife, plunging it into Armand's chest, "This is for Marcel!" and, as he falls to the ground, she kneels over him, slicing his throat over and over, torrents of blood gushing out.
Fletcher runs in pulling Gabrielle off Armand, "That is enough!" blood oozing over the golden floor.
Gabrielle breathes heavily, she never realized it could be so exhilarating, "Now what?" overcome with a joy she has never felt before, her body lifts as she lets out a soft groan.
"The Red Diamond." Fletcher grabs it from Armand's fist before helping Gabrielle stand.
Gabrielle lifts the knife, "I want to kill the priest now." loathing him the most.
"One thing at a time. Remember what we planned. Someone needs to find Armand and soon." Fletcher takes the knife from her.
"Yes, Fletcher." Straightening her blood soaked dress.
Alexandre Massie spends hours alone in his study, devising schemes to make money; so far, he has been quite good at it.
Gabrielle burst into the room, "Papa!" falling to her knees in a fit of anguish.
"What is it girl?" Alexandre cannot abide this intrusion, pushing his chair back going to her, "You are covered in blood, you wretched, filthy creature." He is repulsed by the sight of her.
"Papa! He's dead!"
"Who's dead?"
"I found him there on the floor in Gold Hall! I cradled the dear man in my arms as he took his last dear, dear breath!" wrapping arms around her father's legs, "An assassinis loose! God help us all!"
Alexandre shoves Gabrielle away kicking her in the chest, "Who?" his gray pants and coat are now covered in blood.
"Our beloved, Armand!" letting out a cry, "The sainted man!" convulsing in a fit of tears.
Alexandre rushes out of the room in an instance, nothing like this has ever happened to him.
Fletcher steps inside, "Very good." impressed by her acting abilities.
Gabrielle pushes herself up asking calmly, "You don't think they will suspect me?"
Fletcher waves his hand, "Not at all, they think you are vapid, not a brain in your head. Trust me."
"Can I kill the priest now?"
Fletcher moves his head back and forth, "Yes, you can kill the priest now, then we are leaving for England." His ship waits in the dock.
St. Quentin's Church is located right on the Massie Estate; a place for Aristocrats to pray in, make offerings.
Gabrielle walks into the church, hands behind her, "Father Bouvier." knowing he would be here at prayer. The priest enjoyed tying her hands and legs with rope behind her back, sodomizing her at the foot of the altar.
"Gabrielle, what are you doing here? I have not sent for you." Father Bouvier only trusts what he can control, "What are you hiding?"
"I'm here to make penance. Am I not allowed that?" Gabrielle makes way slowly towards him. Sometimes in the stables, the priest made her get on hands and knees as he penetrated her.
Father Bouvier points an accusing finger, a little frightened, "You are a filthy creature, condemned to hell already for your many unnatural sins." Saying this as if he is not in control of his own actions, not to blame for them, "I am a sainted man who you seduce in your wickedness. I am blameless." His confessor told him so.
"I have always had this strange thought that, I am going to live a very long time." Lifting the rifleman's knife plunging it into the priest's heart, digging it in, pushing it so hard it pokes out through his back. He falls to the floor silently. Gabrielle spits on his face.
Gabrielle walks slowly out of the chapel, taking Fletcher's hand saying sweetly, "Now I am ready." experiencing a serenity she has never felt before.
When his nephew arrives back in England, Lord Percival is happy to take charge of the necklace, dismissing Fletcher all together.
Lord Percival decided to make his eldest daughter Heiress to all Middlesex titles and land. Lady Victoria Jenkins will be officially named Viscountess Baltimore, Countess Llangollen, the future Duchess of Middlesex.
Before Lord Percival can begin the complicated process in changing the rules of succession via a special remainder, he comes down with a fever. Doctors try every potion and serum available. Lord Percival's recovery is painfully slow.
His daughters pray feverishly, promising God all manner of good works in return for their father's good health.
Gabrielle arrives at Heathrow House carrying a round iron pot.
Fletcher's three cousins, Victoria, Elizabeth and Maud greet Gabrielle tepidly in the gothic foyer.
"What is this?" Victoria asks; neither Gabrielle nor Fletcher ever visit.
"I heard your father is unwell, so I brought some chicken soup. It has many healing properties."
"Will chicken soup help?" Elizabeth asks, not seeing Gabrielle as any kind of threat; Her father is far too powerful.
"It cannot hurt. My brother Armand was once almost carried off by a fever. Our cook made this very soup, and he returned to good health." Her eyes flashing a look of pleading.
The three girls cluster together speaking rapidly. Maud poking her head up, "We consent to it." They will try anything to save him.
Gabrielle lets out a sigh, "I'm so happy. This is just what he needs."
The girls feed their father every bit of the soup; however, after fits of vomiting through the night, Lord Percival Jenkins dies the next day.
Fletcher then becomes the rightful 10th Duke of Middlesex, 8th Earl of Llangollen, 2nd Viscount Baltimore.
iii
The band now performs Billy Joel's You May Be Right. Greg poised with a saxophone for the solo. The patrons going wild singing along.
"Lord Percival never wanted the necklace. He saw it once, thought Fletcher might get killed trying to steal it. It was a fool's errand. Of course, he didn't count on Fletcher meeting me."
"According to Wikipedia, your brother Armand died of consumption."
Louise places a hand to her chest, "You mean Wikipedia is wrong?" going on to say, "For nine years Fletcher and I lived together. I was a good wife, a good hostess, kind to the tenants, I had a garden, people liked and respected me. I gave Fletcher two sons Jeremy and Nicholas. Fletcher had many affairs, but he was good to us. I had everything a woman of that era could want."
"Were you happy?"
"I thought I was, but perhaps I was just not living my old life. I love my children infinitely. Several years back I took a tour of Heathrow House, my home. The guide had a lot of things wrong about those days. Of course, in the retelling over so many years, the truth often gets lost. There is a painting of me in the Green Room." Louise adds whimsically, "The guide marveled at how much like the Duchess I looked. Everyone in the group agreed."
"What happened?" there is no explanation for Lady Gabrielle Jenkins' disappearance, though many assume she was murdered by her husband.
"Fletcher did business with the Earl of Scalloway, a wealthy Scotsman with a pretty daughter. Isla was eighteen. Her father had influence, power, but no sons. Fletcher could turn on the charm and he was brilliant. Fletcher and the Earl invested in a shipping company which became quite profitable over a short time. I had nothing, no country, no family. I was twenty-five, that was considered matronly back then. Fletcher wanted me dead."
iv
Nightmares torment Lord Seamus MacMurray, Earl of Scalloway; In them his daughter Isla is burned alive, Lady Gabrielle Jenkins always somewhere close by. Lord Seamus confronts her in the apple orchards on the Jenkins London estate, Heathrow House.
"You want to kill my daughter." Lord Seamus accuses her with a pointed finger, great certitude behind his words.
Gabrielle shakes her head, "No." shocked by this claim, "I have no animosity towards you or your daughter." These women mean nothing to Fletcher, he does not have human feeling.
"You are a witch. You killed your own brother. You killed a priest." Seamus has chosen sides with Fletcher, a good, clever, honorable man in his opinion.
Gabrielle does not answer.
Lord Seamus warns her, "If anything happens to my daughter, you will pay for it with your life, I promise you by all that is holy."
After he leaves, Gabrielle remains seated on the bench stunned by the Earl's words, his threats.
"I came to call on you Lady Gabrielle, inquire on your health today." Count Erik von Plessen has been a guest at a neighboring estate; he plays cards with Fletcher and a group of his friends.
Gabrielle is not impressed. Count Erik von Plessen is rather ordinary, a little chubby.
Count von Plessen sits at her side, "You are troubled. I hear things." looking around then leaning closer, speaking softly, "You are in danger."
"I know my husband plans on divorcing me." Gabrielle will lose her children, her title, everything. She will have nothing, "Sending me to a convent or worse back to France." The last place she wishes to go.
"It's much more dire than that. He doesn't want you around at all."
Gabrielle glares at Count von Plessen.
"He asked me to kill you, figuring I needed the money." Count von Plessen grabs Gabrielle's left hand kissing it, pressing it to his chest, "I could not, would not." Confessing his feelings, "I love you. I have from the first moment we met." Two months ago.
"What?!" Gabrielle rips her hand away from his grasp, leaning back.
"Do not spurn me." Count von Plessen takes her hand once again, "I adore you."
"Count von Plessen, this is inappropriate." she is a married woman.
"Your husband is plotting to kill you. It will be done tonight. I have agreed to do it for a large reward. He invited me to dinner, so he could watch, make certain it was done. He'll provide the poison."
"Is this love, Count von Plessen?!" she jumps up, moving quickly away from him.
"Listen to me!" Count von Plessen follows Gabrielle, "I beg you." grabbing her left arm, "I am soon to return to Copenhagen, where I was born and raised."
"Peace in your journey." Gabrielle desperately trying to remove her arm from his grip.
"You can come with me."
Gabrielle stops struggling, "I have my children."
"You have nothing, you are going to die tonight, but that need not be the end."
"You are mad."
Count von Plessen points to his face, "How old do I look to you?"
Gabrielle guesses, "Thirty-five, forty, perhaps."
Count von Plessen makes a face, a little put out, "I changed when I was thirty, fifty-one years ago. I'm almost eighty-one."
Gabrielle gasps, "This can only be madness talking."
Count von Plessen assures her, "No, it is not. The world is bigger than people's puny little minds can comprehend."
Gabrielle turns away.
"It does not matter what you think, I will save you tonight, mon amour. We can then travel together to Copenhagen with two thousand pounds. I'll buy you a home there, as grand as this one."
"But you are going to kill me?"
"I'm going to make you a Vampirette." Which he planned on doing regardless; however, it would be nicer if she consented.
"A what?" having never heard the term.
"A Vampirette."
"What is such a thing?"
"There is a lot of folk lore, mostly wrong."
Gabrielle's mind cannot comprehend his words, "You say you are going to kill me. How can I trust you?"
"Had I not agreed your husband would have found someone else to do it." Count von Plessen reaches into his jacket pocket pulling out a small knife, cutting his throat, blood slowly oozing out.
Gabrielle gasps, fingers to lips, "You are bleeding."
"Yes, but it's no more serious than emptying one's bladder. Tissue heals, blood clots, the organs work. We are healthy. The only difference is, we must hunt for blood every month during the hunger, like women's times." Count von Plessen assures her, "Mine has passed already. We look like you, but we are not like you."
"You are a demon?"
Count von Plessen shakes his head, "No, that's a myth. Vampires are descendant from Adam and Lilith, through their son. According to the legend, Lilith killed her tempting snake, serving it up for Adam on a golden tray. He was unimpressed. Eventually, she grew bored with Adam abandoning him and her son, running off with a handsome archangel. Then Eve was created. Adam and Lilith's son Raziel could not reproduce biologically, but he could create through a bite, a ritual double the pleasure of ordinary sex." Count von Plesson nods his head for emphasis, "Raziel's tribe settled in Babylonia. They shunned the world and history until it caught up with them. They had longevity as in Old Testament times. We are not immortal, but we live a very long time. Only a steak through the heart can end our existence early. We only come into being through the bite of a vampire's fangs." Smiling a little, "as long as we're still alive."
"How did you?"
Count von Plessen waves a hand, "A cold winter's evening in 1845. I drank too much beer, coffee, ate too many mushrooms, apple strudel. My housekeeper saw me drop in the snow. She was a vampirette. Good employers hard to come by."
"Will it hurt?"
Count von Plessen assures her, "The discomfort will last a few days. You will be tired, weak and need lots of water. Then…we don't get sick. We are still who we are. We can feel pain and pleasure. There are good and bad vampires. Life is what we choose to make of it."
"I'm afraid."
"Don't be. To them you will appear dead, this is a part of the metamorphosis lasting seventy-two hours. You will be fine."
Gabrielle nods her head, consenting to it having no other choice. She is not ready to die.
That night Count von Plessen joins the Jenkins for dinner. Fletcher monopolizing conversation talking about his recent purchase of land in Scotland, how many tenants he could get. Count von Plessen brought with him tarts, insisting they both try one. He hands a blueberry tart to Fletcher, a raspberry tart to Gabrielle; immediately after eating the tart Gabrielle is overcome with stomach upset, saying she will retire to her rooms early. Fletcher wishes her a pleasant evening, going off to visit Isla and her father.
Count von Plessen appears in Gabrielle's room, sitting on the bed, leaning over biting her neck, his saliva mixing with her blood. The transformation begins.
In the morning Fletcher returns to Heathrow House, visiting Gabrielle in her room; assured she is dead, he calls for servants to wrap her body up, take it to the cellar. He will deal with the corpse later. The next day he hands over two thousand pounds to Count von Plessen, congratulating him.
Six weeks later a festive mood has overtaken Heathrow House, Lord Fletcher is to marry Isla MacMurray.
Isla can hardly sleep the night before the wedding, lying awake in bed, staring out at the full moon shining big and bright through her windows; sitting up startled upon seeing a silhouette outside, then a form appears at the foot of the bed.
"Isla." A man's voice calls out.
"Who are you?" thinking it could be an angel bringing her good tidings; Isla has never had an unkind thought in her life, "It's hot." Feeling beads of sweat drip down her forehead, the mattress burning her skin; she tries getting out of bed, but her feet are paralyzed, "Help me, please good sir!" Isla screams.
Lord Seamus is startled awake by a shove, "Who's there?"
"Lady Gabrielle Jenkins." Who has been almost forgotten about, no one even checked on her body, "I have the most tragic news for you, Lord Seamus, your daughter's bed in on fire; you must go to Isla now, save her."
Lord Seamus runs as quick as he can down the long corridor, into his daughter's room, now engulfed in fire. He calls out her name, "Isla! Isla!" the door slamming shut; the room explodes.
News of the tragic events spreads quickly. Lord Fletcher has locked himself in his library, refusing to even eat.
Gabrielle appears to him, "Hello, Fletcher."
Fletcher jumps up, "You are dead!" She must be a ghost haunting him; or this is a nightmare.
"You know I could have had compassion for Isla and her father. But I was your devoted wife for nine years, neither showed me any compassion."
"What trickery is this?" for the first time Fletcher is frightened of Gabrielle.
"Take good care of my sons, give them a good education, see that they are well treated, even if you cannot love them. I bid you farewell, Fletcher."
"Gabrielle, I hate you!" he shouts as she disappears.
v
The two young ladies of the band sing Beyonce's Love On Top.
"Erik and I settled in Copenhagen. He was devoted to me. We lived happily together for seventeen years. We had a lovely mansion. I called myself Dagmar and learned to speak Danish and German. Beethoven wrote Opus 11 for me."
"What happened to Count von Plessen?"
"One evening after a particularly rancorous card game, he was stabbed in the heart by a drunken card player. No, we don't crumble to dust, but our bodies do decay faster than normal." Looking momentarily sad, "I mourned him for a time."
"You kept the last name." Amy finds that sweet.
"Erik genuinely loved me, was always good to me. I owed him something for that. After his death I lived in Venice for a while."
"What happened to Fletcher, your children?"
"Fletcher died in 1810. I hear he used to scream out my name at night. He never remarried. My sons both turned out well, they were raised afterwards by Fletcher's Aunt Frances, a good woman, never married herself. Jeremy lived to be eighty-nine, he married Lady Georgiana Cavendish and they named their first daughter Gabrielle. Nicholas died at ninety-one, he married Lady Elizabeth MacMurray, who was in fact Lord Seamus' grand-niece, the Countess of Scalloway."
Finally Amy asks, "How did you meet the Boss?"
Louise takes a cranberry-orange biscotti, "It was the fall of 1866 I was in St. Petersburg, Russia. I met this truly stunning woman at a Ball, Princess Olga Ivanovna Narinskaya. She was from an old Russian noble family, the Stroganovs. She invited me over to her palace for tea, then she invited me up to her bed. It was my first Lesbian affair. Afterwards we went down stairs for dinner. At the table was seated a handsome young man calling himself Paolo. He was eating strawberries from a blue diamond encrusted bowl. I thought this odd since it was November, well past the time for strawberries. He offered me one, it was the sweetest I had ever tasted. We became lovers that night."
Amy takes the last biscotti, cherry-cheese, "Did the Princess mind?"
Louise shakes her head, "Not at all, she was grateful that he had entertainment. She was afraid of him. Paolo ran that estate. When he wasn't happy, no one was happy, not even the animals. No one wanted to ever displease hm."
"Is he a Vampire?"
Louise folds her arms, indicating that is not a question to be answered, "We stayed with the Princess for two years, then went our separate ways. We didn't see each other again for fifty-four years."
Amy does the math out loud, "1868, fifty years 1908 plus four, 1912."
"I sailed onboard the Titanic. It was a lovely voyage until it wasn't. I was in Lifeboat Number Six. Paolo and I met in New York City at a dinner party. He told me about his dealings in Germany, that Kaiser Wilhelm had displeased him. He planned on getting even with him, making a little money doing it." Louise flashes an ironic look, "You've heard of World War I, that silly little war for nothing at all. Paolo and I have been together ever since." Adding coyly, "Not in a Romantic way."
"Affairs?"
"The first hundred years I was what we would call now a wild child. I wanted to experience everything life had to offer and did. Then around the turn of the 20th Century, that life wasn't satisfying. I needed something new. I became an anti-war activist and social welfare campaigner. I visited the British concentration camps in South Africa with Emily Hobhouse. I met Winston Churchill. I admired his self-confidence. By the 1930's when Paolo and I lived in Hollywood, I was settled down. I met a man named David Sandberg, he was a make-up artist who worked in movies and later television. David and I were together for forty-five years. He was a good man, he never asked me too many questions about my business."
"How did you explain things?"
"We didn't go out often. David was really a home body, which suited me and my work. I colored my hair gray and bragged of Swiss plastic surgeons. People believed it. What other choice did they have?" Louise messages the cup with her right fingers, "After David I realized I couldn't have a relationship like that again. It was complicated and it hurt. I decided to have private affairs. I contract my lovers for sex and companionship. You aren't in a relationship now. Of course, it wouldn't matter if you were. This is strictly business."
"What?"
"You can still live your life, have your YouTube channel, I may even join you on some trips. I can tell you stories of famous people not in history books. You can go about with friends, have lovers when it suits you." Louise asks seriously, "You do find me attractive?"
"Yes."
"Why do you think I agreed to this interview? To talk over my wretched first life? I could have just had your memory wiped away."
Amy doesn't know what to say. Suddenly seeing a face in the window staring at her, it's Buddy Bainbridge.
"You're going to be murdered tonight by a crazed fan who's been stalking you for months, Mr. Buddy Bainbridge. You feel it too." Louise shrugs her shoulders, "We don't get involved in matters not our concern. I'm not pressuring you. I'm warning you."
"Yes, I will." Amy loves adventure and this may prove to be the best one ever, "Get rid of him now. Please."
Louise moves her head slightly, "The band is taking a break." motioning Greg over.
A breathless Greg asks, "Yes, Dushenka, what can I do for you?"
"Get me Mr. Segano."
Greg departs to talk with the band; A ginger haired young man with freckles sprints over.
Louise orders, "Deal with Mr. Buddy Bainbridge, please."
Mr. Segano heads quickly out the door.
"Why don't we take a walk, it's especially lovely tonight. I'll tell you about Victoria and Albert, dinner with the Kennedys, meeting Geronimo and Gandhi, watching the Wright Brothers first airplane flight, touring Cuba with Hemingway, dancing at Studio 54, Charles and Diana. Despite the sadness, I've had a fabulous life."
"I'd love to." Amy is jolted by the sound of a screeching car.
Mr. Segano walks calmly back in, returning to the lounge.
"That's done." Louise pushes back the chair, "Shall we?" picking up the empty cups and plate, tossing them into a large green trash barrel by the door.
Outside cars are stopped, a crowd gathers around, there are sirens in the distance. A body lies in the road, Buddy Bainbridge.
Louise does not look over, "By the way, his real name is Ammar."
"Who?"
"My Boss. You'll meet him soon. We're attending a wedding. You can be my guest. And the Five Scorpions work for our organization; they're assassins."
Amy is curious, though not afraid, "Why are you telling me this?"
"It's not going to be all great sex and exotic travels. You should know what world you're entering."
24