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"You're going to burn it? But you can't! It's not yours to burn. Your brother gave it to my mother and now it'smine."
"Eve," he says and his voice is frustrated. "This documents my debasement and destruction. It's nothing more than a chronicle of my pain and despair. I consider it part of the world of vampires and Ancients and want it and themdestroyed."
Ancients?
I don't say anything, for I don't want to appear ignorant. I'll have to read more in my mother's files to find out what thatmeans.
His debasement and despair? Now I'm desperate to read that manuscript. The thought of him being debased, his chastity taken from him as he described it is horrifying. He's sobeautiful.
"But just to build trust between us, Eve, to lay a foundation, I will read you some of it. Not tonight, and not the parts about myself, for they would only pollute your memories, but those Julien wrote about his own experience. He wanted those to be known – he wants to be known. So beit."
My jaw drops at this offer. "When?"
"Oh, Eve," he says and shakes his head. "So eager to read about our fall? To know ourpain?"
"It's about vampires," I say, but I know, deep down inside, that it's more than just curiosity about vampires. "My mother's life was dedicated to killing you off. I want to know why your brother gave it toher."
"Who can understand Julien's motives?" he says and packages the manuscript up. Then he stands. "I'll read it to you another night. Now, I have to go. I'll arrange the whole interview process to test you and see if you can be an Adept for the Council. I'll send you an email or call you with thedetails."
He takes one last look around my apartment and then at me, his head tilting to theside.
"You won't be safe any longer, now that you've re-emerged. I'll be putting a security detail on you 24/7 but they should be invisible to you. You may not be cut out for this work. These trials will let us know eitherway."
Then he's gone and I'm alone in my apartment, but the world has changed and I wonder what I've gotten myselfinto.
* * *
Chapter 4
"Whether we fall by ambition,blood or lust, like diamonds, we are cut by our owndust."
Webster
Several days later and an hour after dusk, I get out of a cab half a block down the street from the address Michel included in his email with details on my first interview. I glance around but so far since that first night, I haven’t been able to spot the security detail Michel claimed he'd put in place, but it makes me feel strangely safer knowing people are watchingme.
I spent the last few days in the library and at home going through my mother's files, box by box. The university released almost twenty cardboard file boxes and they're piled up in a corner of my tiny flat. I'm searching through each one methodically, indexing them in an Excel file so I can keep track of everything. So far, I've only gone through five. These boxes are mostly histories and articles on the vampire species. There's lots to read and absorb, and slowly, a picture is emerging in my mind about vampires – their secret world that most people have no idea exists. But with another fifteen boxes to get through, I know there's so much more tolearn.
I have an hour to kill before the interview and stop at a little diner on the way to grab something to eat. It's one of those fifties replicas, with posters of James Dean on the wall and faux leather seats. There's even old tableside jukeboxes, with music from the fifties andsixties.
I sit at an empty booth and examine the menu – old favorites. Cheeseburgers, fries, hot turkey sandwiches, meatloaf, liver and onions. Not much for a vegetarian. There's an all-day breakfast so I order a veggie omelet and sometea.
I'm sitting deciding what to play when someone stands besides my booth. I startle out of my reverie of music choices and gasp. It's Michel – except it's not Michel unless he's just had his hair cut and has a scar that's very rapidly healed, for one follows the side of his head next to his hairline from his brow to below his ear. He looks very dashing, dressed in a black leather trench, a black fedora and black and white patterned scarf around his neck. Underneath, he's wearing a black sweater and faded jeans, big black military boots of some kind. He smiles atme.
"Hello."
I put my hand over my eyes for a moment. When my heart's slowed just a bit, I look up athim.
"You must beJulien."
"The very one. Let the bells ring out and the banners fly. Feast your eyes on me." He grins that characteristic de Cernay grin and holds his hand out toshake.
I glance at his hand. It's bare and I don't want to shake, but I do to be polite and of course, he leans down and kisses my knuckles. "Eve," hesays.
"Julien."
If he's reading me, I don't feel it. I quickly end theshake.
"I hear you found my manuscript," he says. "Quite theread."
