The Stirrings of a Cold Heart Ch. 04

For the next few nights Erik stayed away from the opera. He was certainly pleased that the little faery queen had prospered, but their worlds were far removed from one another. However, he still found it difficult to be indifferent to the girl. So much so In fact that he paid a local florist shop to deliver two long stem roses each night . . . anonymously. There was no need for romantic notes or calling cards; he was not a stage door Johnny and he certainly wasn't looking for any attachments. He had no intentions on ever seeing her again. He was no more than her benefactor making sure that she was happy, healthy and well taken care of. That may have been his intent, but a message from one of his informants requesting a meeting with him quickly changed his plans.

Perhaps he could have conducted his business with the informant elsewhere, but the opera house had one advantage, private boxes. As planned he arrived at the theater with plenty of time to spare and was taken toan out of the way box where no one would notice him or any companions he had, but the view of the stage was still good. At the appointed time and just shortly before the curtain rose, a tall, thin, older man with a pointed nose sat down in the chair next to him. Carefully he handed a parcel of paper over to the vampire then silently waited as he read through them.

The documents were a listing of debts that Emile Claudel had run up all over London. Over the years 'Le Coeur Noir' had been paying Emile's mother a comfortable pension after helping her to 'solve a problem'. He had also regularly deposited a fairly sizable amount of money into an account to cover any expenses necessary when he hired her to take in Aiden Cathal. Now he was seeing the results of his generosity. The vampire didn't care that the tenor ran through his own income as though it were water, but when his fingers reached into his dark pockets then it was an issue. Yes, Aidan had been cared for and given a good education and became very accomplished . . . she was worthy as a consort for a king, not Emile who would only bring her to ruin and misery.

Erik thanked the gentleman then handed him a rich payment for his work. For the moment he would do nothing and instead wait for the other 'eyes' he had hired to return with their information on the tenor. For the rest of act one the two men silently watched the performance then parted ways during the intermission. When the opera was over, the vampire quietly went back stage and found a place where he believed he could go unnoticed as he observed Emile and Aiden. Like the last time, the soprano's amethyst eyes instinctively found him, despite his efforts to hide. A hint of a smile appeared on her soft pink lips and a light blush appeared on her cheeks at the way his grey eyes looked her over.

"I believe you are staring at me sir, Does something displease you?" she asked, boldly walking up to him.

"Nothing I see displeases me, Miss," he answered. His soft whispered voice responded without a hint of shame.

"I saw you here the other night. You were standing on one of the cat walks and you dropped a rose at my feet. Why did you leave so quickly?" Before he could answer and attempt to explain himself, Emile stepped over and placed himself between the pair. With the tenor's interruption, Aiden's face dropped in embarrassment and annoyance. 'Le Coeur Noir' suspected this was not the first time Emile had tried to put on a display of dominance.

"Miss Cathal, would you introduce me to your new friend," Emile's strained politeness was obvious to Aiden as well as the vampire.

"I would hardly call him my friend, he is barely an acquaintance. In fact I haven't even learned his name."

"Erik . . . Erik Ambrose and I truly enjoyed your performance, Miss Cathal." He nodded to her politely, then turned to the man before him. "I believe you are Mr. Claudel the company's lead tenor. I am quite familiar with your performance as well." The vampire's words were polite, but his tone made it obvious that he was not impressed with the tenor's performance and abilities, The inference was not lost on Aidan, but Emile was oblivious to it and proudly puffed out his chest as though he had received great praise. Erik turned back to the young woman before him. "Forgive me, Miss Cathal, but I really must take my leave of you." He politely bowed his head to her then turned and left.

"What do you know about him?" Emile demanded as soon as they were alone.

"Nothing, how could I? You interrupted before I could barely speak to him."

"Did you notice his boots or the cut and detail of his clothes? He's obviously rich and I think it would be in our best interest to cultivate his acquaintance." Aidan said nothing, just looked at him in disgust and walked away. He never noticed her reaction, just continued to contemplate the possibilities of a wealthy connection.

Yes, Emile Claudel wanted nothing more than to rub elbows with anyone of the elite class and Erik Ambrose seemed a perfect opportunity. The vampire too was interested in the tenor, but his opinion of the arrogant blaggard was not a particularly flattering one. Over the next couple of days 'Le Coeur Noir' received another report and it was brought to him by gentlemen that clearly moved in far more seedy circles then the previous gentlemen had. This document was in regards to a particular woman named Julia Lowe that had once worked as a maid in the Claudel household. Her circumstances were far more wretched now.

Putting the document away the vampire retired to his bedroom for the day. It didn't take him long to fall asleep, but it was not the death-like slumber he was accustomed to. In the thousands of years he had existed, he could not recall dreaming, not even once. Now he found himself standing in the midst of stone ruins at the banks of a river. He knew this place. Studying the stones he could see that it was the remains of a temple and remembered the site as Necromanteion. People once came here to worship because it was the gateway to Hades and here you could speak with the dead. He had come here once in hopes of speaking with Athanasia, but it had been a wasted effort. As a vampire he could not partake in the ritual and in the end he had left disappointed.

Why was he there now and in the sun no less? Looking about he quickly found that this was not the only peculiarity. Everything around him was perfectly still. The air didn't move, no birds were singing, no leaves rustled and even the river Acheron seemed strangely silent despite its movement. The calm might have been maddening, but his attention was caught as a gentle voice spoke his real name, Erebos. Shocked to hear it, he whirled around to see who was there only to fall to his knees at the very sight. Standing in the doorway was Athanasia, his mortal wife. Her golden hair was pulled back from her face and decorated with bands of flowers. Her eyes were still the beautiful bright blue they had been in life and on her wrist was a gold bracelet with a garnet that had the symbol of life carved into it. He had saved up and got it for her after the birth of their son.

"I miss you Erebos."

"Athanasia . . ." he whispered.

"I hardly recognize you."

"Your Erebos is still inside of me somewhere and loves you."

"I fear my Erebos is gone," she expressed sadly "Where is the good heart that was my husband? You wanted revenge and when you had it you embraced the existence of darkness, death and blood. There is so much coldness in you now." At her words he felt ashamed and couldn't bear her looking at him.

"He is not gone." he responded sadly. "He is trapped in a hell where he can never find you."

"Even in Hell, Hades has Persephone. You need to go find yours."

"How do you make a dead heart feel again?" he asked.

"Wake up," she smiled her familiar warm smile, then everything vanished.

Erik sat straight up in bed from the shock of his dream. Yes, it was only in his mind. What else could it have been? Still, it was difficult to dismiss the vision of his wife. He had not looked upon her for centuries and yet . . . no, no it couldn't have been real. Not wanting to think about it he collected his senses and pulled his blankets up around himself, intent on going back to sleep. It wouldn't have been hard, but before he could close his eyes he heard a woman's voice calling 'hello' from down stairs in the main hall. He knew it wasn't his housekeeper and no one else was allowed inside these walls. He pulled on his breeches then stealthily descended the stairs, following the voice to the drawing room then carefully peeking inside. Standing near the fireplace he could see the form of a woman with her back to him. Carefully he opened the door without a sound and crept in, stopping when he was a foot or so from her. She still had on her long woolen coat and a matching bonnet covering her head. He could see that she was holding something, but couldn't tell what it was.

"Such a beautiful face and delicate features, I wonder who you were?" The woman said, then moved her hand revealing a framed sketch that he had made of his beloved Athanasia holding a baby in her arms. She set the picture back on the table then removed her gloves.

"Is there something I can help you with?" Erik asked. Instantly she whirled around, dropping her gloves. Erik was surprised himself when he saw the amethyst eyes and deep red curls of Aidan Cathal. She looked him up and down then her face flushed red and he knew why. He could see the way her eyes took him in. Realizing how inappropriate and damning the situation was, she turned away and yet Aidan couldn't quite stop herself from glancing back at his broad shoulders and solid muscled chest that were laying bare before her. The vampire could see she was clearly uncomfortable, yet she was not disappointed with what she saw.

"I am so very sorry, Mr. Ambrose. I knocked but there was no answer and then I noticed that the door was ajar . . . a-and your home looked so grand from the outside . . . I suppose I just couldn't resist seeing the interior. H-had I known you were here I certainly would not have intruded on your privacy. N-not . . . not that it would have been acceptable with you gone . . ." She stumbled over her words trying to stem her mortification and embarrassment, but it only seemed to make it worse. "Please forgive me sir, I should be going." She started towards the door still flushed with humiliation.

"On the contrary, Miss Cathal, it is I who should be apologizing to you for not receiving you properly." He went to the fireplace and began building a fire. Aidan could only stand there in astonishment. He was hardly at fault and she knew it. "Please stay and make yourself at home." He started towards the doorway only to stop and turn back. "You will be here when I return . . . yes?"

"Sir, you are under no obligation . . ." she started to explain.

"Please, I'll only be a moment." he said, then quickly left the room. To him, this was advantageous indeed. There had been no real opportunity for him to see what sort of woman she had become. Leaving her alone, she nervously looked about the room then timidly removed her bonnet and played with the ties a few moments before setting in on a side table. As promised, he returned, fully dressed, and much quicker than she had anticipated. Preternatural speed, ah, the benefits of being a vampire.

Lighting an oil lamp he led her on a tour of his home. Despite the low lighting, Aidan was still greatly impressed with the beauty of the estate. The walls were lined with grand works of art and tapestries. She was sure that the library had more books then were at the sellers shop. One salon boasted a beautiful frescoed ceiling depicting the angels in heaven peering down at them. Some rooms boasted sumptuous coffered ceilings, while others had elaborate detailed designs engraved into them. Large stone fireplaces and statues seemed to be around every corner as were touches of gold and silver leaf. Once or twice she had asked if she could open the drapes so that the light might give her a better view, but each time the suggestion was politely, but firmly, declined. Aidan could not imagine being master or mistress of such a place, but looking up at her host she found herself unable to picture him in anything less. His manners and dress all seemed a perfect fit for such a lavish place and yet there was something else about him that didn't seem to match the surroundings.

"You have a beautiful home," Aidan said, as they returned to the drawing room. "Every inch of it is exquisite. Are you an art collector?"

"Not exactly, but I do have an appreciation for beauty," he explained as he offered her a chair. "Now, Miss Cathal, while I am delighted that my home should have your good opinion, I doubt that's the reason you came here."

Sudden embarrassment went through Aidan for the second time as she realized she had completely forgotten the very thing that had brought her to Osrik House. She was never this scattered brained before, in fact she was usually the one in charge of keeping track of everyone's schedule. Erik found her behavior amusing. She was attracted to him and he knew it, though he couldn't understand why. It had been ages since he saw his reflection, but he remembered it well enough to recall that he was a physically attractive man, but he also knew well the condition of his soul and that left him confused as to how this woman could look at him at all. In his mind she was an innocent, not just in body, but in heart and soul. That she could find anything redeeming about him seemed the height of improbability.

"I am terribly sorry, sir, I did come for a reason. I was asked to deliver this to you on behalf of Mr. Claudel." She reached into her draw-string purse and took out an envelope and handed it to him. He opened the wax seal and saw that it was an invitation to Madame Claudel's birthday. Erik was hardly inclined to attend and found it strange that he should be invited at all. Emile had barely met him and as for Patrice Claudel, well, they were acquainted and he knew she would never extend an invitation.

"Monsieur Claudel does me great honor. How is it that a man who has known me less than 15 minutes would wish me to be present at his mother's birthday?" He raised an eyebrow to Aidan, curious to her explanation.

"He is very fond of entertaining and always seeks to have patrons of the opera among his distinguished guests," her answer was polite, but he knew it wasn't quite true. Emile wanted to be among the elite and call them friends, he wanted to be 'somebody'. He had assumed in their short acquaintance that Erik had wealth and connections. He did indeed have a great deal of wealth, and powerful connections, but mortal social standing hardly mattered to a vampire. Erik had already had at least two glimpses into the man Emile was and had found it very interesting indeed. The opera tenor was definitely not worthy of Aidan's hand or dowry. The vampire was certainly not interested in parties, dancing, or dining, but still, the prospect of an evening with this lovely young woman was tempting.

"This invitation could have been delivered by a servant or a courier, why are you delivering it? Don't tell me it was the house, you could not have known what it looked like until a short while ago." Again Aidan blushed.

"I should not have come, I know, and I hope you will not think poorly of me. The other night we had only begun to talk when Mr. Claudel interrupted. When I saw he had procured your address from the box office after your last purchase of tickets, I decided I would deliver it in hopes of continuing our conversation."

"I do not think badly of you, but I am rather surprised. A young woman's reputation, once lost, cannot be replaced."

"It is the same for a gentleman when he is seen more than once watching the dressing rooms of ladies. Do you always hide on catwalks and behind curtains and scenery?" she answered smartly.

"A habit I only picked up recently. Tell me, how is it you knew I was there?" He wanted to know the answer because it was the first time any mortal had been able to find him when he did not wish to be found.

"I don't know, really. I just kept getting this strange feeling, like a stirring in my blood. I felt something pulling me to look in the direction and there you were." At her explanation a memory stirred in Erik. A moment of carelessness on his part when he had accidentally marked her child forehead with his tainted blood. That mistake had created a connection between them. He would have to be careful and make sure there were no other blunders to give strength to that bond. Wanting to redirect the conversation, he started to ask about her childhood, but the large mantle clock began to chime the hour. Aidan glanced up at the time and saw both hands pointing to twelve. "I'm so sorry, I'm afraid I must be going. I promised a friend of mine that I would join her for tea. If you prefer I will give your regrets to Mr. Claudel and tell him business prevented you from attending the party," she offered and Erik might have allowed it, but for the disappointed look on her face.

"Do you wish me to be there?" he asked, studying her face intently.

"Of course, it would give Mr. Claudel and his mother great pleasure . . ."

"I am not interested in pleasing either of them," he responded, cutting her off. "I am more interested in you." Aidan blushed at his words. "Do you wish me to be there?" he asked again.

"Yes," she answered softly.

"Ask me."

"Would you come to Madame Claudel's birthday?"

"It would be my pleasure," he answered, taking up her bonnet from the side table and holding it out for her. She smiled as she took the hat from him, her mind already beginning to go over what she should wear and lament the fact that she had neither the time nor the money to have a new dress made. "I hope you will forgive me as I will be a bit late that night. I have a business engagement that I cannot miss, but I will be there after supper."

"I understand and will let Mr. Claudel know."

Aidan did have to leave, that was no lie. Her friend Adele was like a big sister to her and since she never believed she would actually see Mr. Ambrose, she had eagerly accepted the invitation. She really didn't want to leave at all and she couldn't explain it. This man was almost a complete stranger to her and really they had nothing in common, yet somehow there was a familiarity she couldn't shake. Feeling emboldened, she was about to remark on this when suddenly the housekeeper, Mrs. Aimerey came through the door. Accustomed to her employer's eccentric hours and lifestyle, the woman was surprised to find him awake. She was even more stunned to find him alone with a guest, especially a young woman with no chaperone.

"Mrs. Aimerey, may I introduce Miss Cathal, London's lead soprano at the opera. Miss Cathal, my housekeeper Mrs. Aimerey." Even as the two women exchanged polite how-do-you-dos, the vampire kept a cool gaze on his housekeeper. "It seems my front door was left unlocked and ajar . . . a mistake that I know will not be repeated." Hastily she assured him that it would not. While he understood that it was human to err, he would not tolerate repeated offenses. The vampire once more tuned to the beauty before him as she slipped on her bonnet. "Once again, Miss Cathal, thank you for delivering this invitation on behalf of Mr. Claudel," he expressed. "I hope you will remember that you are always welcome here at Osrik House." Aiden blushed slightly as she gave a slight curtsy and thanked him for his kindness before departing. With the click of the door lock, he turned to Mrs. Aimerey who once again apologized for the error before handing him the correspondence she had picked up for him regarding the tenor, all VERY enlightening.