The Stirrings of a Cold Heart

After Patrice's birthday party Emile had taken to drinking continuously. He could manage to set it aside long enough to give a performance, but not without it having some effect on his ability. Erik's threat and memory of those glowing eyes kept him from raising a hand to Aidan, but it did nothing to silence his tongue. Each time he saw her he used the opportunity to hurl insults or make vulgar insinuations regarding her virtue. Patrice tried to act normal but she feared the vampire and the reckless way her son seemed to be driving himself towards a confrontation he could never win.

Aidan found herself longing for an escape from the misery and abuse that was beginning to fill her home. Seeing no other savior she started placing all her hopes on the enigmatic and handsome Mr. Ambrose. True, they had barely spoken to each other since the party, but she sometimes saw him lurking in the shadows backstage, watching her. Usually she was the only one who seemed to notice him, but occasionally he would approach and they would exchange a word or two. Whether they spoke or not she always found his calling card on her dressing table after each night's performance. That simple piece of paper gave her hope that Emile would not be able to run him off the way he had previous suitors.

When it came to courting, Erik Ambrose was unlike any man she had ever met. Almost from the beginning she had felt drawn to him. He watched her with an intensity that made her feel as though he were trying to absorb the entirety of her. His face had little expression so she never could gain even a hint of what he might be thinking. She had also noticed a certain heat between them when they were together that was both improper and thrilling. She had never felt anything like it before. The only problem with him was that no one seemed to know him and he never spoke of his past. She knew it was entirely possible that he would disappear as quickly as he had appeared and she couldn't bear the thought that he might leave her behind.

"It's about time," Emile reprimanded curtly as she stepped from her dressing room and put on her wool hooded cloak. He saw her slip the calling card into her draw-string bag and sneered. "Ah, I see you are still entertaining the attention of Mr. Ambrose. Tell me, does he have a large poker? It's been my experience that men like him are not as well hung as they pretend." Aidan blanched at Emile's language and boorish words while anyone else standing around backstage quickly departed the scene. Encouraged by the lady's reaction, Emile leaned closer and smirked. "Has he stuck his finger in your kitty yet?" Not wanting to hear anymore she tried to walk away but he caught her arm and held her there. "Afraid to talk about it? Has he done more?" He leaned in close to her ear and caustically began to whisper. "Did it hurt when he stuck it in and claimed your maidenhead?" Unable to take another second of his lies and offensiveness she slapped him and wrenched herself free. Emile's face became dark with anger and he started towards her only to stop as one of the stage hands approached

"Mr. Claudel, there is a gentleman in your dressing room with a package from the gunsmith." He nodded his acknowledgement then turned back to the red-haired beauty.

"Take the carriage back to the house and have the driver come back in an hour," he growled as he tried to regain his composure and cast a smirk at her. "You realize a man like Mr. Ambrose has already had a dozen mistresses. I always knew you would end up a whore." Aidan didn't answer, only put on her gloves.

Outside the snow had stopped falling and the sky was clear and full of stars. Aidan was relieved at the prospect of riding home alone. Right now she wanted nothing more than to go to her bedroom, sit before a warm crackling fire and try to forget the previous altercation. Usually the carriage was waiting at the door, but all she found were carriage tracks and hoof prints. For a moment she stood there unsure of what to do. She could hardly walk alone at this time of night and she feared telling Emile that there was a problem. The thought of enduring more of the tenor's hate was enough to cause tears to spring into her eyes. Suddenly a large and beautiful black horse stopped before her and its rider quickly dismounted. To her surprise and pleasure she found herself being greeted with a slight bow by Erik.

"Miss Cathal." His whispered voice was music to her ears.

"Mr. Ambrose," she answered with a polite nod. She seemed paler than usual to him and just before she had noticed the horse, the vampire had observed just how close to tears she was.

"Are you unwell?" His hand gently brushed her cheek then tipped her chin upward so she would look at him.

"No sir, not now that you're here," she blushed at her accidental frankness, but he seemed unbothered by it. Honesty and bluntness never troubled him, in fact he preferred it. He was more taken aback by the idea of someone being pleased to see him.

"I realize it would make me a complete scoundrel to suggest that you might be willing to take a short ride with me, but I think you know that I don't concern myself with the dictates of humanity. I fully expect that you, in your proper and lady-like fashion, will vehemently decline my invitation so nothing ill can be said against your character, as you should. I guess I'm hoping that you will have the courage to defy convention and take a chance. What is life without a little risk? What would the story of Romeo & Juliet be had she not taken a chance to be with Romeo?" What he offered was truly enticing, but Aidan still hesitated. He could still hear Emile's cruel and distasteful words, but she could not imagine a safer place than being with Erik. Over and over her head kept telling her to refuse, but her heart could not resist the adventure.

""Well, perhaps Juliet would have been alive, but then she may not have ever really lived," she smiled.

Before she could change her mind, Erik lifted her onto the horse, surprised by how small and light she was. He then climbed onto the saddle behind her and clasped the reins as the horse began to snort and stamp.

"Hold on tight to me," he instructed. She was starting to wrap her arms around him when with barely a shake of the reins the horse took off. Startled, Aidan gasped in delight as she instinctively tightened her hold on Erik. Even as the horse galloped out of town she reminded herself that this was a terribly wicked thing she was doing, but somehow this man made her feel as though none of it mattered. She liked being with him. He felt strong and solid in her arms. Aidan had no idea where he was taking her, and she didn't care. At that moment he could have taken her to the other end of the world and she would have been pleased. Before long they were no longer on the cobblestone streets of London but traveling down a dirt country road. The countryside looked beautiful covered in snow with the stars shining down. Aidan peered out into the night sky and she could see the man in the moon looking back down at her. How peaceful it all seemed. They turned off the country road and on to what could hardly be called a worn path before stopping in front of crumbing stone ruins. Little of the building remained to tell what it had been. A few tall walls stood forming a large forgotten room with an imposing archway on one side and the remnants of a window on the other. Erik got down from the horse then gently helped Aidan down as well.

"What is this place?" she asked, looking over the structure in the moonlight.

"This is the ruins of Minsden Chapel. It was built five hundred years ago and this is all that remains." He peered at her, expecting to see a look of pleasure, but instead she seemed bewildered. "Disappointed?"

"Hardly. I've just never seen it before." Aidan followed the crumbling walls around a corner to one side of the structure and noticed a large broken frame of what had undoubtedly been an elegant gothic window. "It's so peaceful here," she remarked softly. In such a place as this it was easy to imagine the whispers of past priests or monks still trying to atone for broken vows and broken hearts. She walked towards the window and gently touched the carved stone. A sound suddenly caught their attention and swiftly Erik pulled Aidan out of the way as a section of the window fell.

"I'm afraid it is not as grand as it once was. Time has rendered it broken and dangerous," he explained apologetically.

"There is beauty in things that are broken. If it is dangerous, well . . . then it's because it was left to the harshness of the elements rather than cared for as it should have been." This observation seemed to please her host and the normal coolness in his expression warmed slightly.

Aidan turned her gaze once more to the old chapel unaware that Erik was watching her as her gloved hand once more touched the crumbling surface of the wall. In the distance just above her shoulder he could see the large full moon and to him it seemed as if time froze. He saw everything as though it were in slow motion. He saw Aidan's face smiling in innocent wonder as well as a hint of rose perfume on her skin. In the silence of the winter countryside his ears could even hear the blood coursing through her veins. Erik steeled himself against the hunger rising within. It took all his control not to take every drop of her innocent blood right then and there.

"You know the night started off horribly, but I think things are finally beginning to improve. Or at least . . . change." Aidan took a deep breath of cold night air.

"Do you think so?"

"Yes. There is change in the wind tonight." She turned and faced the man before her. "I have felt a change in myself since I first met you." This was a bold and risky admission from a lady. There were no promises, attachments or engagements between them, but then nothing about this place or this encounter fit the rules of modesty and respectability. "You don't strike me as a man unfamiliar with change."

"We have been around each other very little. Certainly not enough for you to judge my character. What could you possibly know of me?" he asked softly, curious to hear her opinion of him. For a few moments she was silent as she chose her words carefully.

"I know you are a private man. Your bearing . . . the way you carry yourself tells me you are a powerful man, strong willed and commanding." She started to walk towards him, feeling more confident in what she was saying.

"Strong willed . . . commanding?" His eyebrow raised at these words. There was accuracy in her description, but her perception and his reality were something far different.

"You are used to giving an order and having it done without fail. I suspect you are that way in every aspect of your life whether it is the running of your home, business . . . or when someone . . . a woman perhaps . . . has piqued your interest." Without thinking, Aidan grabbed his hand in hers and held it. Erik instantly stiffened at the sudden contact. No one ever touched him without him initiating it and he was completely taken back by it. Realizing his discomfort and sensible of her own forward behavior, Aidan let go and blushed in embarrassment. "I'm so sorry." Aidan said. "I should not have done that." To her surprise he reclaimed her hand in his and held it tightly as if it might escape again.

"Save your apologies for when you have actually erred, Miss Cathal. As to your assessment of my person, I fear you speak of those traits as an asset where others would see them as a fault, including your friend Mr. Claudel."

"Well, I seldom agree with Mr. Claudel's opinions. He has made me very aware of his feelings in regard to you and I give them little weight. Although it pains me greatly to hear him say such vile things about you."

"Does he now? Tell me, what exactly are his ideas about me?" The ancient vampire knew well why the singer disliked him. Erik could see through his thin façade of charm and see the narcissistic blaggard that he was. He also stood between Mr. Claudel and Aidan's considerable dowry that he truly felt entitled to. The question was just how much he had told Aidan.

"He feels you are too mysterious and can't be trusted. He said nobody knows you or has ever heard of you. I'm embarrassed to say that he had you checked out and claims that there were no bank accounts with your name or even ship records listing you as a passenger. He says that you are a monster and will only hurt me."

"Is that all?" he sniffed. Somehow he had imagined stronger words.

"That is all that I can repeat and still call myself a lady," she confessed, remembering his words from earlier. She blushed at the memory and was ashamed of Emile's invasion of privacy and cruel words. Erik was hardly bothered by it. Being referred to as a monster was hardly new to him, but he knew something that the tenor didn't seem to comprehend. There was more than one type of monster. As a vampire, he knew damn well that he was the very definition of that term, but the tenor was one too. He was simply a different breed. He enjoyed provoking altercations, blaming others for all of his failings, and lived to be the center of attention and in control. He cared more about how strangers perceived him than having the love of those closest to him. He had no compunction when it came to slandering someone if he thought it would benefit him in any way. Yes, Emile Claudel was a monster, but while a vampire steals his victim's blood, the tenor feeds off everything that is good and decent in a person and leaves misery, abuse and degradation in his wake.

"You don't believe him then?" Erik asked.

"I don't doubt you have your secrets. Most people do. But they are none of my business and certainly not his." A cold wind blew through the trees causing a shiver to go through her.

"Let's get you out of this frozen air." Erik tied the horse to a tree then then led her through an opening in the wall to the interior of the chapel. The moonlight played off the broken walls casting long shadows. One almost expected the specter of a monk from the chapel's past to be looking down in displeasure at the intruders invading this hallowed place. Erik cleared a small circle of snow in the center of the ancient structure then filled it with sticks and broken branches. Using his skills at pyrokinesis, he moved his hand over it and willed a fire to life. Aidan felt the warmth of the flames, but was too engrossed in looking about the interior of the chapel to notice what her companion had done. She did, however, feel him as he came up behind her and wrapped her in his strong arms. She closed her eyes and luxuriated in the feeling of his body being close to her and breathed in his scent. For a few moments she indulged in the simple pleasure of having him close before pulling away out of fear of the emotions it stirred in her.

"I do want to apologize for the way you were treated when you arrived at our home the other night," she said suddenly, trying desperately to change the mood and break the tension between them. "Mr. Claudel doesn't usually behave like that. They've always been warm and generous with their guests, even if it's only for appearances."

"I wouldn't worry," Erik replied, leaning back against a section of wall. "I paid them little attention." The wind was still present, but there was enough of the structure remaining that its touch could not reach them so easily. He looked at his guest in the moonlight and he was not disappointed in what he saw. He reached out and untied her bonnet then removed it altogether allowing himself a better view of her face. Erik then took the ribbon from her hair as well so that each soft curl hung loose and free. "Very pretty." He walked a few steps away from her and fixed his gaze on the bonnet in his hand. "I have traveled all over the world and met many people. There have been many times when I received a warmer welcome from a 'queen' whose castle was no more than an alley than from a duchess who lives in a true palace. What I wonder is why a woman with as much as you have to offer, has never married." He already knew the answer to this, but not from her lips.

"No one has ever asked. Oh, I've had suitors, but their interest was always fleeting. Mr. Claudel bragged to me that the only reason they ever sought me was because they mistakenly thought I had money. He took it upon himself to let them know that I was the daughter of a penniless laundress with no dowry or prospects which he and his mother had taken pity on. He has always enjoyed reminding me of that fact too. I suppose he was right, they were only looking to marry well."

"Perhaps he has hopes of winning you for himself." The vampire suggested. He was relieved she knew what Emile had been doing, but was uncertain if she knew the whole truth about the man.

"It's possible, but I have no intention of marrying him. He loves only himself and his ambition. I'm not a great fool, Mr. Ambrose, I know that Mr. Claudel is not what he pretends to be. I can't say that I know the particulars, but I have seen things." Aidan hated gossip and usually shied away from the circles of ladies spreading their rumors at the expense of someone else's life and reputation. Indeed, she had never given her opinions regarding Emile to anyone before, but there was something about Erik that she trusted. With him she could be open and frank without her words being twisted or spread around. "There is a man who has come to our door once or twice. A rather sinister man who looks at me in a way that makes my skin crawl. When he comes Mr. Claudel immediately ushers him to the basement. I have no idea what it's about, but a man such as that cannot have good intentions."

Erik knew what man she was referring to. He was the pimp hired to maintain Emile's brothel. His appearance at Aidan's door was no doubt because of trouble, either with the law, or one of the working girls. The thought of such a disgusting piece of vermin eyeing Aidan didn't set well with the ancient vampire. It was yet another reason to protect her from Emile and his schemes. Aidan continued to reveal the details of her observations. She had on two occasions caught him dallying with maids in their home. It had been on accident of course and Emile never knew she was there. She had also noticed him go into his mother's bedroom before and leave after only a few moments. It seemed completely innocuous at the time, but shortly afterward Patrice would dismiss her chambermaid due to missing jewelry. Aidan never doubted that it was Emile who had taken it, but regardless of what he did, his mother would always protect him and would never admit that he might be at fault.

"I know Mr. Claudel has many gambling debts. I've seen men from the gambling halls come to the theater to collect payment from him. I don't doubt he stole the jewelry to pay some of it. That is the core of the issue, Mr. Ambrose. He believes he should have been born into nobility with great wealth at his fingertips. Instead he is the son of a widowed mother and it is her fault for not marrying higher into society . . . or so I have heard him yell at her. It seems everything is either her fault or mine." Hearing this from Aidan made Erik wonder what the tenor would do if he knew that his birth was even lower than he had been told. Emile Claudel was nothing more than the bastard son of a dead and penniless French aristocrat. Were it not for the vampire's intervention he would have been raised in the squalor of the streets or never born at all. "If he does desire me, it is because he thinks it will profit him in some way and if it doesn't he will hate me for it. I'm not the sort of girl he can mold into a quiet obedient wife who will cower before him and serve him without question. That is a fate worse than death to me." No longer wishing to discuss it, she decided it was time to turn the questions on her companion and draw him out. "What about you, sir? Were you ever married?" No answer came at first, only a long uncomfortable silence as he caressed a lock of Aidan's hair.