Harvest VIII
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Josef wasn't aware that the news of Mick's impending return had affected him in any way until his private secretary stood up, shoo-ed all of his traders out of the office and closed the door behind them. She turned and eyed him sternly and said that if he was so all fired keen to chew someone out, then maybe he ought to take a freshie break. She didn't know what was eating him, but she wasn't going to allow anyone else into his office until he'd had some time to cool down.
It crossed his mind to bite her out of spite, but he'd always rewarded employees in the past for telling him difficult truths, so he waved a dismissive hand instead, swivelled his chair and peered out at the L.A. evening skyline with unseeing eyes.
Josef knew himself too well to try and conceal the reasons for his ill humour. He'd indulged himself with Beth, he could see that now. Her status as Mick's girlfriend had caught him off guard. She was neither to be fucked nor fed from and therefore didn't fit any of his usual categories for humans. He recalled the evening early in their acquaintance where she'd dragged him to an underground club. She'd given him his first glimpse of the real girl underneath the impetuous façade that night. Her humour and her sensuality and her little girl vulnerability had gotten under his skin. And later, much later, her temper and her fearlessness had earned his respect. She was the first human friend he'd had in over a century.
He wasn't expecting the piercing sense of loss he experienced as that realisation dawned; because now that it had, he knew that something deeper than mere camaraderie had developed - on his part at least – and that meant only thing if he wanted to continue his friendship with Mick.
He'd never been one to shy away from making difficult decisions and he didn't intend to start now. It wasn't like he'd never disconnected before, left loved ones behind, gone forward without the slightest hesitation. In time it had gotten easier and he would do it again, do it now, with her. She was only a human, after all. The best thing for it was a quick clean cut - one eyebrow rose in humourless irony – and seeing as he couldn't do anything that would actually result in blood loss, there was only one alternative.
Josef flipped his phone open.
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The mansion had an unfamiliar air of emptiness when Beth arrived home that evening. Normally she was greeted by gentle clinking from the human kitchen as staff prepared her meals or muted giggles from Josef's freshie quarters where the night shift amused themselves until they were needed. She didn't think too much about the silence, however, and took a shower, wrote some file notes, wandered down to the library where she poured herself a red wine and picked at a sandwich while pretending to watch the late night news. It was only when she noticed that no noise at all was coming from the 'donor' quarters that she realised she'd been holding her breath expectantly all night long.
The loneliness weighed heavily on her chest. She missed Mick. Oh he'd told her he'd be home soon, but the enforced embargo on their calls had left her sad and unsettled and she wanted to talk to Josef. Something about his flippant sarcasm always made her feel better and - a guilty blush warmed her cheeks - Josef could be kind when she needed it, too.
She reached for the telephone.
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"Hey Josef, it's me, Beth. It's too quiet here tonight. Not even your meaty bites are around. If you're going to be home before one, give me a call. I'll stay up and let you bore me with fiscal policy if you'll let me eat Spaghettios out of the can in the library. "
Josef's finger hovered over the delete button.
The night sky was its usual soothing black, but tonight he could have done without the sight of himself in the jet's oblong window. He looked sombre, not at all like his usual devil-may-care self. A flicker of movement behind him was reflected in the window and he saw the hand before he felt it rest on his shoulder, watched detached, as the translucent girl in the glass slid into his lap and began to loosen the knot in his tie.
He pressed his finger against the delete button and snapped the phone tight.
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Josef didn't return her call her that night; he didn't even come home as far as she could tell. The staff shrugged noncommittally when she tried fishing for information when a second night came and went without a sign of him.
Mr Kostan's comings and goings were private matters that didn't concern them, they said, better she didn't ask questions they couldn't answer.
When a third and then a fourth night passed without a single returned call, she stopped phoning and started investigating.
She strode into his private lobby the way she always did, as if she owned it. She had always enjoyed the narrowed glare of his receptionist whenever she entered his private foyer, never stopping to ask permission to enter Josef's inner sanctum. While she had always recognised that the other girl's dislike of her stemmed from the jealousy her special status in Josef's world evoked, she had never, until now, realised its true extent.
The other girl practically crowed, as she stood resolute in front of Josef's office doors, not even trying to conceal the malicious smile that spread across her beautiful features.
Mr Kostan was 'out of town' and 'didn't Miss Turner know that?'
'For, surely Mr Kostan had told her. Everybody else had been informed days ago.'
And the final indignity, 'Was there something that she could help Miss Turner with?'
If Josef had wanted her to know where he was he would have told her, she'd just have to accept that fact.
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On the evening of the tenth day that Josef had been gone, Beth turned the nose of her Prius into the mansion's driveway. It was late and she was tired and she wasn't looking forward to yet another night with just the security guards for company. Her headlights swung across the gravelled path and lit up dozens of luxury cars lining the hill all the way up to the front portico at the crest. The sound of jazz wafted out onto the warm evening air, filling her with excitement. Her heart hammering, she floored the accelerator and came to a screeching halt in the underground garage.
The staccato clack of her ascending heels echoed loudly from the concrete stairwell.
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The mansion was ablaze with lights. French doors hung open all along the marbled terrace and knots of people, both human and vampire, laughed and chatted while white coated waiters wove amongst them bearing trays of champagne, hors d'oeuvres and caviar.
She stood on tiptoes and scanned the crowd for Josef.
There he was in the centre of the terrace, clapping someone on the back and gesturing expansively, a cigar clamped between his teeth. Now probably wasn't the time, but who knew when he'd be gone again? She took a breath and headed toward the terrace, then pulled up short as Josef's dark suited house manager stepped into her path. The old bird looked even grimmer than usual tonight and she was quick to take Beth's arm, whisper that it was Vampire-only business tonight and that Mr Kostan had requested that she take her supper in the library.
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She couldn't eat a bite, not a mouthful, even though the meal was more sumptuous than the mansion's usual exquisite fare. If she wasn't sure before, she is now. Josef has forsaken her. This exclusion isn't just because of vampire business. She must have done something seriously wrong for him to banish her this completely.
The din that seemed so exciting not so long ago has a mocking tone now, and when she walks along the corridor toward the public rooms, intending to take Josef aside, ask for an explanation, she is stopped by an unknown security guard at the entrance to his public rooms who directs her back to her own wing of the house.
Beth paced the length of her room, her mouth set in an angry line. Screw him! Who needed Josef anyway? He was nothing but a ruthless, shallow, blood sucking Republican and she could do very well without him.
She harrumphed. So let him have his party. That didn't mean she'd have to hang around for it. She stomped about her room, shucking off clothes, pulling on her sweats and sandshoes. The grounds were beautiful and well kept and spacious - plenty big enough for her to run the frustration out of her system. And if the vampire olfactory system was as sensitive as everyone kept saying, well then, let 'em have a nostril-full when she came back in the house. She felt a stab of vindictive pleasure as she imagined all the vampire noses crinkling delicately upon her return.
She tightened her laces and headed for the back stairs.
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A painful stitch jabbed into her side as she crested the final hill on the route back to the mansion. She sagged, resting a palm on each knee and sucked in breaths in painful heaves. Not only were her face and neck burning like a kiln, but she was slick with sweat, her ponytail giving up any pretence of being perky about five cursed miles ago. Maybe this wasn't such a good idea after all. The thought of being seen sneaking back into the house in this condition made her cringe. Vampires were always so cool and elegant!
By the time she reached the servants entrance, she felt truly woebegone. The kitchen was a whirl of activity, a chef and two cooks drizzle olive oil and mayonnaise over smoked salmon and pan seared tuna canapes, a sommelier examines dusty bottles of champagne and eases out the corks with barely a whisper.
She whisked a Russian Egg canapé from a platter on the bench and pivoted around a line of waiters holding fully laden trays above their shoulders and headed for the kitchen stairs, the domestics access to the upper floors.
She felt like telling him the kitchen area was for humans only, but even she knows that disturbing a feeding vampire isn't wise. Through the rounded porthole in the kitchen's swinging door she can see that the back stairs to her level are 'occupied' by an unknown vampire and his refreshment. She is hot, she is sticky, and she darn well needs a shower. She can't just wait it out until he dabs his lips and says he's had enough, she needs to go, and now. There is nothing else for it. She's going to have to run the gauntlet.
The tricky part is getting across the lobby to the stairs from the kitchen corridor. Apart from the area the party is taking place in, this is the busiest hub in the mansion. She waits and watches from around a corner and makes a break for it when the coast seems clear.
Halfway across the marbled floor, the double doors opened and a waiter with an empty tray stepped out, barely lifting his head as he cruised past her and toward the kitchen. Just as she is about to heave a sigh of relief, there is Josef, two steps beyond the door, engaged in conversation with an older vampire. He stopped talking mid-sentence and turned his head to stare at her. Beth was mortified. She looked down at the dark stains on her sweats and flushed with embarrassment. Josef beckoned to a passing waiter and nodded toward the open doors.
Beth flushed again as the doors began to close, not with embarrassment this time, but anger. She caught Josef's eye over the waiter's shoulder, raised her voice a little.
You could at least snub me in person. It's more effective that way.
Several conversations in the room beyond stopped.
She couldn't hear the comment Josef made, but she recognised the ugly laughter in response. Angry tears welled in both eyes. She pivoted on her heel, but before she could flounce away, Josef stepped passed the waiter and closed the door behind him, leaving the two of them alone in the cold marble lobby.
I suppose it was too much to expect common courtesy from you when I have business guests in my home.
The iciness of his tone had a perverse effect, fanning the flames of her anger even further.
If you want me to leave, Josef, all you have to do is say the word.
If only it were that easy, Blondie, but there's the little issue of my promise to your boyfriend.
Beth glared at Josef and he returned the look with one of utter indifference.
The double doors opened once more, and a redhead sauntered out wearing a gown of such stunning simplicity Beth knew it had cost more than her annual wage. The girl twined an arm around Josef's waist and looked at Beth, crinkling her nose in so exactly the way Beth had imagined that she would have laughed in the pretty girl's face had she not been so incensed.
Come back to the party, Josef, the girl wheedled. It's so unpleasant out here.
She clung to his side and slid a possessive hand between his jacket and his crisp white shirt.
I wish I had more time, Beth, Josef said with blatant insincerity. If you'll excuse me.
A titter of laughter rippled through the room as the doors closed behind them.
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Beth raised her chin and ascended the stairs like a princess. No one could take her dignity away unless she let them. She held it together until the bedroom door snicked shut behind her, then she sagged against the wood.
Fuck!
A sandshoe bounced off the far wall and rolled under the 18th century opposite to the bed.
Bastard. Jerk. Imbecile.
The other sandshoe thunked against the cupboard doors. Her t-shirt and sweat pants were hurled with almighty force, landing in untidy heaps in different corners of the room. Her bra rested briefly on the coverlet before sliding off the silky fabric and onto the floor at the foot of her bed. Her knickers were swinging precariously from the lampshade. She stormed into the bathroom, gave each shower knob a vicious twist and thrust herself under the burning flow of water.
She didn't know when, she didn't know how, but he was going to pay. Oh yes, Josef Kostan was going to pay for humiliating her like this.
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A/N: there are only two more chapters to go (unless it takes me longer to say what I've planned) and I've already written quite a bit, so there shouldn't be too long a wait for the next chapter.