The Stirrings Of A Cold Heart Ch 24

When the sun had set the following night Alex returned to the remains of the theater. Everything was gone except a hollow shell made up of three half-fallen brick walls that were scarred from the fire and looked as though they were ready to collapse at any time. Ignoring the potential danger the hunter passed through what was left of the doorway then stumbled his way over the piles of rubble. It was hard to imagine that the heaps of blackened brick, charred wood and remnants of costumes, props and furniture that lay strewn about had ever been such an elegant theater.

The men that had fought the fire managed to find the remains of the three Valdis brothers. There was also a skull and a small piece of lace that Alex believed to be Emile and three or four rib bones discovered in the orchestra pit that he could only assume was Ryuu. They found nothing else. He knew he could well be wrong about who those remains belonged to, but he hoped he wasn't. He still wanted to believe Erik and Aidan somehow had gotten out.

Slowly making his way over the rubble, Alex found it difficult to pinpoint exactly where the stage had been. A few times he slid on loose bricks and ash as he moved, but eventually he found his way to where he believed was the spot he was looking for. For a moment the hunter closed his eyes and he could still vividly remember his last sight of Erik and Aidan. The vampire's battered and bloodied face had looked down at his lady with so much love as he held her surrounded by flames. The image had haunted him all day.

Falling to his knees he began to dig through the rubble hoping against hope that he would find something that would tell him if they escaped or died. For a while all he found were his hands quickly becoming covered in ash and dirt as he tossed aside bricks, carbonized wood pieces and fistfuls of ash. Finally his fingers hit against something and brushing away the dirt he found the metal cross that had adorned Aidan's coffin prison. Alex's heart ached at the sight and he couldn't help thinking that perhaps this was God's way of telling him what he already suspected. From his coat he took out two roses and gently laid them against the cross.

"In pace requiescat," he softly prayed then he rose and climbed his way out of the rubble.

Walking through the city and recalling old memories, Alex soon found himself standing before Aidan's row house. The windows were dark and the front door was still cracked open from when Erik and started to go in the night before. Entering the building the hunter was immediately greeted by the odor of rotting meat. Following his nose he found the body of the last Valdis brother in the master bedroom where he had been killed, his remaining blood was dry and sticky and his flesh a blue/green color. Alex opened the windows airing out the smell then grabbed a blanket and wrapped the body in it. He carried it down to the wharf then wrapping a chain around the waist and feet he dropped the corpse into the water disposing of it.

He returned to the house then sat down halfway up the stairs in silent contemplation. He wondered what was going to happen to the house and all its contents. All of the couple's belongings were still inside, untouched and exactly as they had left them. Even Erik's numerous trunks were sitting there unopened in the second bedroom. For a moment he ran his fingers over one of the pieces of luggage and thought about 'Le Coeur Noir', 'The Dark Heart', the vampire and the man who was also his lost father. Alex found himself wishing he had taken some time to know him and see what lay beyond the darkness. Why do we never realize the importance of these things until it is too late and the time has passed?

All of these objects were painful reminders to the hunter of his loss and would probably be picked up by some solicitor and sold at auction. The idea just didn't sit well with him though. Part of him longed to keep the house exactly as they left it. He didn't want anyone to disturb anything. It seemed wrong to imagine strangers living within these walls or wearing their clothes and spending their money. Another part of him wanted to take it all with him, but he had no space or need for any of it. He would have to let it all go just like he would have to let Aidan and Erik go. He had them in his memory and that would have to be enough. Seeing the sun beginning to rise in the distance, he stood and took one last look around the place.

"Good -bye my old friends," he whispered, then left to start a new day.

A few more days passed and Alex heard through the idle chatter at The Blue Heron that old man Valdis had suddenly come into a great deal of money. More than anyone would have ever guessed and even the elderly undertaker could not explain it. Then one bright sunny morning a young man appeared at his doorstep with a letter recommending him as an apprentice and assuring the old man that he was honest, hardworking and eager to learn. The letter had no signature, but the old man took him in anyway and began training him. This was a curiosity to everyone who knew him. It was said that he burned the letter and never would say to anyone what the rest of the contents were. Whoever it was that wrote it, was accurate with their recommendation. The apprentice proved to be all the letter said and in time he became another son to the old man.

As for the hunter, he returned to the row house a week after the fire only to find all the personal belongings gone and the place clean and ready for a new owner. He immediately became alarmed and began to make inquiries as to where the personal effects had gone. All he learned was that the clothes, trunks and other belongings had disappeared one night and a letter was found on the desk of a banker and his young family that included the deed and the keys. This combined with the undertaker's strange change in fortune gave the hunter his first real glimmer of hope that somehow the two vampires had escaped the fire.

Going out to the harbor, Alex found himself contemplating his own future. He didn't want to hunt vampires anymore. He was starting to feel old and tired. For two thousand years he had worked and done what he thought was his duty. Now he wanted to live and enjoy himself. He wanted to try living in the daylight rather than the night. Perhaps there was someone out there for him. If 'Le Coeur Noir' could learn how to love then surely God could send him a woman with a bonney smile and a gentle disposition.

Smiling at these sugary thoughts Alex made up his mind right then and there that he would leave the order and finally experience life. There would be no letter of resignation to the Vatican announcing his retirement. Instead he packed all of his things, bought a good horse and wagon and disappeared. Over the centuries he had amassed a substantial fortune while living quite fugaly. He should be able to live quite comfortably for a very long time. If he had had any doubts about that, well he was still able-bodied and more than capable of manual labor or any other kind of work that presented itself.

Yes, there were endless possibilities before Alex and he savored each one. He went to balls and even attended a presidential inauguration. The former hunter helped explore the wilderness of the newly expanded United States and even fought for the cause of the natives that were being oppressed and murdered for their land. Eventually he saw the writing on the wall and a future in this country filled with turbulence so Alex turned his wagon south and traveled to Central and South America. He became a fisherman and worked on ships. Occasionally he met a fair woman who would share her bed and make him both supper and breakfast. He never lingered for too long because he knew he couldn't explain his slow aging or bear the heartache of watching someone grow old and die. Eventually Alex found his way back to Europe and attended coronations, balls, festivals, he witnessed civil unrest, upheavals and insurrections. Men never seemed to learn.

Decades rolled by as he moved from place to place. He watched as fashions changed. Women went from straight empire-waisted frocks to layers of petticoats, hoop-skirts and then bustles. By Eighteen-eighty-seven Alex was in Paris just in time for the Bal Masque de L'Opera. The night of the festivities the Opera Garnier was packed with people dressed in brightly colored costumes and various masks. Under such disguises people used the opportunity to forget their stations in life and behave in ways they might not otherwise behave. It was as though they believed that God himself could not see past their false faces or perhaps for one night he simply chose not to.

The former hunter smiled at the sight of normally proper women drinking to excess while brazenly displaying their ankles and a bit more cleavage. They danced in ways that were considered provocative without a care and knowing that tomorrow they would be in confessionals seeking forgiveness while never truly feeling sorry. The men were no better. Their glasses stayed full of alcohol and many a kiss was stolen and a bum squeezed. Occasionally Alex would catch sight of a couple engaged in far more licentious acts in alleys, dark corners or anywhere they thought they had found a private corner.

Alex Mabon enjoyed the revelry and even danced himself and threw back a pint or two. A few fine ladies bestowed kisses on the skin of his bald head and a couple had even graced his lips. One fine, pretty French widow named Sharon had managed to catch his eye and he wanted to know her better. She had eyes of blue/green like the ocean that were large and sparkled with life. Her thick blond hair was soft and loose and had a warm golden glow in the moonlight. When she smiled, her gentle round face smiled all the way to her eyes and it made her very attractive. In their short conversation he had found her quite intelligent and when he was around her, he was in no hurry to leave Paris.

As they went to find a quieter place to talk, another woman caught Alex's eye. Not out of attraction, but there something about her seemed familiar. She was standing alone on a foot bridge that spanned the River Seine and looking peacefully down at the water as it passed beneath her. Her costume was that of a female harlequin whose dress stopped mid-calf and was covered in silk diamonds of red, green, gold, purple and blues. Her deep red hair was woven with pearls and elaborately styled to show off her fine curls. All but around her mouth was covered by a venetian mask painted in the same vibrant colors and decorated with flowers and butterflies. The former hunter told himself that it was simply the hair color, drawing his mind back to a long gone old friend.

Turning to leave with his new lady friend, he found himself suddenly riveted to the spot as a voice began to sing. It moved on the wind and seemed to reach into his very soul. The words spoke of memories distant and far away. It recalled a sky that was the same brilliant blue as azure paint on an artist's canvas. She spoke of different seasons and recalled them in great detail. Winter, with snow falling like the soft down of a pillow when shook. How the cold wind would make you squint as it nipped at your face and hands. Her words expressed the sight of ice falling from the sky and coating the world in a sheet of glass. The woman sang of autumn and the rustle of leaves as you walked and how the bare trees looked like broken umbrellas. She described the look of people she passed with their smiles, ruddy faces and their eyes so full of life. Suddenly the voice became sad as she explained that brilliant blue paint could never make up for the sight of real blue sky. She then confessed that as the years went by, her memory of what daytime looked like had become no more than a fading ember. Turning her gaze upward, she looked at the moon then with a voice of sadness admitted that there were times when she would gladly give up everything for one single day of sunlight.

It had been so long since Alex had heard that voice. Not since that night in London eighty years ago, and he found himself in complete disbelief that he was hearing it now. Another figure suddenly materialized from the darkness before him. It was a tall man in a silver skull mask and wearing a costume of black brocade and silver embroidery. The figure took the woman's left hand and the former hunter noticed she was wearing a ring made from an old Greek coin that had the image of Cerberus on it. He shook his head in disbelief. This couple could not be who he thought they were. They were gone, destroyed in a fire in New York City.

The tall man took his mask off and there was no doubt that 'Le Coeur Noir' was standing there in the flesh. If he was here, then that meant the woman could be no one else but Aidan. Erik Ambrose would have gladly died at her side holding her rather than leave her to die in that fire alone. Alex's heart practically leapt from his chest in joy at seeing them. The opportunity to know his father was once more there before him as was the hope of enjoying another friendly conversation Aidan. He wanted to go over there now and say something, but quickly thought better of it. If they had wanted to be found then then they would have been. He would not disturb them now.

As the vampire wrapped his arms around his lady, the former hunter smiled at the sight of Erik wearing a new ring. It too was a Greek coin and bore a pomegranate, the symbol of Persephone. Hades had his queen and only she had the power to calm the dragon and make him a man again. The woman at Alex's side suddenly tugged gently on his arm and asked him what was the matter.

"Nothing. I believe everything is how it's supposed to be."

The End