The Black Swan Page 13
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Chapter 8
A stray sunbeam in his eyes woke Noah. He stretched, relishing the feel of his joints popping, and sat up.
Morwen was seated in a rocking chair near the fireplace, stirring something very pleasant-smelling in a pot on the fire.
“Good morning, Mother.”
“Good morning, Noah. Would you like some breakfast?”
“I would, but first I’d better hit the bathroom.”
“I’m afraid I don’t have indoor plumbing. The outhouse is around the back.”
“Okay.” He’d frequently gone camping with his pop and his brothers, and he’d used worse than a privy in the backyard. “What time is it?” He fumbled for his sneakers. Something else he’d learned—when you’re unfamiliar with an area, never go outside barefoot.
“It’s almost ten.”
“How can you tell?” There weren’t any clocks in the cabin, and she wouldn’t have been able to tell the time if there had been—she was blind.
“I can tell.” There was amusement in her tone. “Now go.”
Noah went, and after he returned, he pumped some water to wash his hands and face, then sat down at the table.
Morwen set a bowl of oatmeal sweetened with honey before him, along with a platter of thick-sliced bacon. Slices of golden toast were on another platter. They dripped with butter.
“Mmm. Thank you. I’m starved.”
“I can imagine.” She poured coffee into a battered tin cup that looked like a relic from the Civil War and gave it to him. “I’m sorry, I have no milk or sugar.”
“That’s okay.” How did she know he took his coffee that way?
While he finished his breakfast, Morwen moved about the cabin. “I have some errands I need to run—”
“May I help you?”
“That won’t be necessary.” She smiled at him. Odd. She was blind, but it was as if she could see him. “Don’t forget to call your brother.”
“I won’t.” He took his cellphone from the case clipped to his waistband. Chris would be at the supermarket where he worked as the produce manager. Noah pulled his brother’s name up in his contacts and hit dial.
Chris answered on the third ring. “Sorry, little brother. I was helping a customer. What’s up?”
“Have you got a minute, Chris?”
“For you? Sure.”
“Thanks. I need a favor.”
“Hold on a sec. Hey, Riley, I’m taking a break.”
“Gotcha, boss.”
“Okay, Noah. Now, what can I do for you?”
“Can you open the tavern tonight? I’m in Braddockville, and I—”
“What the fuck—” He lowered his voice. “What are you doing in Braddockville?”
“A vampyre brought me here last night.”
Chris burst into laughter. “Okay, that serves me right for asking a stupid question. Seriously, what are you doing there? You know Pop doesn’t like it.”
“I am being serious. As for Pop…” Noah sighed. He couldn’t tell Chris their father had lied to him about being a black swan. Noah had been miserable for years, knowing something was off but not knowing what it was. “I’ll call him later and tell him about Gabriel.”
“Gabe—please tell me you’re not talking about Gabriel Granger.”
“I am.”
“Oh God, Noah.” Chris moaned. “Do you know what he is?”
“Of course I do. He’s a vampyre. I told you that.”
“And what did Pop tell you would happen if he ever fed from you?”
“That I’d die,” Noah recited obediently. “Gabriel did, and I didn’t. And Pop also told me I’m not a black swan.”
“Oh God.” Chris moaned again. “How the fuck did you find out?”
“You knew?”
“Um…”
“You knew.” Noah felt as if his brother had sucker punched him.
“Look, Noah—”
“Did the entire family know?”
“They were just trying to protect you. Every last one of Gabe Granger’s black swans is six feet under.”
“So?”
“What do you mean, so? Do you want to die before your time?”
“No, but all Gabriel’s black swans died during wartime, and since Gabriel is no longer working for the government, why would that happen to me? And what gave the family the right to decide when that might be?”
“Noah—Look, you’d better talk to Pop about this.”
“I intend to. That’s why I asked you to open the tavern tonight. I’m going down to Florida with Gabriel to talk to Pop.”
“That’s not a good idea.”
“I didn’t ask whether you thought it was a good idea or not. Now, if you won’t open the tavern for me, I’ll call a friend and have him do it.”
“Have someone not family open the Golden Circle? Are you nuts?”
“I’d like to think I’m not, but if you won’t—”
“Okay, okay. Goddammit. I’ll take care of the tavern for you.” The disbelief in Chris’s voice was obvious. Noah never challenged their father, never made waves. He was always the obedient baby of the family.
Well, not anymore. They’d all known. They’d let him go for ten years like this.
He forced himself to calm down.
“Thank you.”
“Noah! Don’t hang up!”
“What else did you have to say, Chris?”
“I think you’re making a big mistake—huge—but it’s your life.”
“It is, and thank you for acknowledging that.”
Chris groaned. “I just hope you know what you’re doing.”
“Don’t worry about me.”
“That’s easy for you to say. When Pop finds out, he’s going to kill me.”
“He won’t, but if it looks like things are getting too intense, I’ll hide you under the dining room table.”
Chris gave a spurt of laughter. “Thanks, Noah. I appreciate it.” That was what they’d done when they’d been little and had watched slasher flicks which they shouldn’t have, huddling together under the table, with the tablecloth concealing them from Jason or Michael or Freddie.
“Hey, that’s what little brothers are for.”
“Yeah, well, just remember you still owe me one.”
“Okay. Call me if you have any trouble at the Golden Circle.”
“I will if I do, but I won’t.”
“Right. Give Lainie and the boys my love, okay?”
“What about me?”
“Okay, fine, I love you too.”
“Back atcha, little bro.”
They hung up, and Noah stared at his phone. He wanted to talk to Pop face to face, but he also didn’t want to surprise Pop into a heart attack by showing up with Gabriel. He straightened his shoulders. Noah knew he had to tell him now.
He dialed his parents’ number in Florida.
“Hi, Pop.”
“Noah. Hello!” Pop sounded pretty cheerful. His golf game must be going well. “How’s everything?”
“Fine.”
“Your tone of voice doesn’t exactly indicate that. Tell me what’s wrong.”
“Are you and Mom going to be home later tonight?”
“We’d planned to go dancing, but we can cancel…”
“Will you be home by midnight?”
“Are you giving us a curfew?”
“Funny, Pop.”
“We’re usually home by eleven.”
“That’s good. You don’t have to cancel then. We won’t get down to Naples until about midnight.”
“We? You’ve finally found someone? Your mother is going to be thrilled.”
“I’m glad to hear that.”
“What’s your flight number? You’re arriving at the Fort Myers airport, yes? Mom and I will come pick you up.”
“Actually, you don’t have to do that. We’ll make our own way down. And Pop? I want you to be nice to him.” Noah planned to stand firm on that if nothing els
e.
“Of course we will. It’s not as if he’s a vampyre.” Pop chuckled as if he’d made a really funny joke.
“As a matter of fact, he is.” Noah drew in a breath. “Just like I’m a black swan.”
For a long moment, there was nothing but silence. Then Pop chuckled again, although this time it sounded a little forced.
“If you’re trying to be amusing, Noah James, you’re not succeeding. The last thing you are is a black swan.”
“It’s the first thing I am. Look, Pop, I know you were trying to protect me—”
“Of course I was. I still am.” But did Pop sound uneasy? “You’re not a black swan, and I don’t know what you hope to gain by claiming to be one. Don’t you realize that coming into contact with any vampyre will kill you?”
“Why do you keep insisting I’m not a black swan?”
“Because you’re not.”
“I fed a vampyre. That’s pretty much proof that I am.”
Pop groaned. “You poor, deluded boy. Feeding a vampyre has nothing to do with being a black swan.”
“I’m not deluded, and I’m not a boy. Do you understand what you did to me?”
“I kept you safe.”
“By lying to me about what I was? What I am? For the past ten years I’ve felt as if half my soul was missing, and I couldn’t understand why.”
“Vampyres don’t have souls.”
“Mine does.”
“Really, Noah, you’re being melodramatic.”
“Pop—”
“And I don’t know why we’re having this ridiculous conversation, since you’re not a black swan.”
“Accept that I am, Pop. And accept that I’ve found my vampyre.”
He could hear Pop’s breathing over the phone.
“You’re completely wrong, but we’ll go on the supposition that you might be a black swan.” Pop gave a put-upon sigh. “And if that’s actually the case, tell me who he is. I suppose your mother and I will have to accept him, as long as he’s not—”
“Gabriel Granger. I’m Gabriel Granger’s black swan.”
This time, the silence was deafening. But Noah couldn’t back down. Gabriel needed him.
“Don’t ask me to choose between him and the family, because you know how things will turn out.”
“You think that bloodsucker is your family now? You don’t know how wrong you are. Now, stay right where you are. I’ll book a flight and come talk you out of this nonsense.”
“I told you before, it’s not nonsense. And you’re not talking me out of anything. You stay where you are. I’ll be in Naples a few hours after sunset.”
“After sunset? Oh my God, he’s turned you!”
“No, I’m a black swan, not a kitra. Gabriel’s going with me, so we can’t leave before sunset.”
“This will break your mother’s heart.”
Ouch. Pop knew just how to get to him.
“I’m not going to argue with you over the phone. I told you when we’ll be down. If you don’t want Gabriel to be present, we’ll get a hotel room, and I’ll see you and Mom in the morning.”
“Do you have any idea how many black swans he’s lost? Six.”
“Six,” Noah answered at the same time. “I learned what I could about Gabriel.” Which wasn’t as much as he’d have liked.
“How?”
“The head American vampyre has a library that contains records going back to the vampyres who arrived in the New World with the Vikings.”
“He does?”
“She does.” Noah had been pretty sure the mention of history would intrigue his father. “I was able to access the library while I was at Brown. I wondered why she was so unconcerned about having a normal rummaging in her library.”
“Well, however you look at it, that’s still sheer carelessness.”
“It’s war, Pop. Men die, even black swans. Gabriel has promised we’re done with that.”
“Even if he’s called upon to resume his duties?”
“He gave this country almost two hundred years of his unlife. And it’s been forty-three years since the last war he was involved in. I don’t think the current Secretary of Defense has any clue about him. Look, we can talk about this more tonight. I have to pack up Gabriel’s things.”
“Why?” Pop asked cautiously.
“When we get back from Florida I’m moving him into the house.”
“And if I forbid it?”
“I love you, Pop, but Gabriel’s my destiny. I have to do this. I want to do this.” Once again, Noah could hear Pop’s harsh breathing over the line.
“All right,” Pop finally said. “We’ll talk. But I’m reserving judgement.”
“Thanks, Pop. I’ll see you later. Tell Mom I love her. Bye.”
“Goodbye, son.”
Noah disconnected the call and blew out a breath.
“A difficult conversation, young Noah.”
He glanced around at the wise woman. “You’re right. I understand my father was trying to protect me, but how do I convince him I’m an adult who doesn’t need looking after.”
“No matter how old you grow, he’ll always see you as the little boy who held his arms up to him to be picked up.”
“I guess.” The odd thing was, Noah could actually remember scenes like that. Well, it was a safe bet to assume most children had experiences like that. He pushed the thought aside and looked around. “Where are Gabriel’s things? I’d better start packing them.”
She smiled at him. “They’re down in the root cellar.”
He stared at her for a moment, then gave a helpless shrug. “Well, I guess I won’t be doing any packing today.”
“It’s not important. All Master Granger owns are a chest and his clothes, and he can buy new clothes after you move him into your house.”
“He doesn’t own anything? How can he not?”
“He’s had no need. Once he settles in with you, though, you can spoil him to your heart’s content.”
“I can, can’t I?” Noah gazed into space, enjoying the picture of taking Gabriel into a men’s shop like Beau Brummel’s. He’d stopped there once, when he’d been in DC, although he hadn’t bought anything. The clothes were fabulous but super expensive. He’d seen a pair of lounging pajamas with a green, black, and gold Jacobean design that he’d fallen into lust with, but the price tag had nearly knocked him for a loop.
For Gabriel, though…Noah thought about his rainy-day funds. Yeah, he’d break the piggy bank for his vampyre.
He just had to make sure the shop stayed open after sunset.
“Noah.” Morwen’s voice jolted him out of a lovely reverie of him and Gabriel in the fitting room, Gabriel tipping Noah’s head back while he licked his throat…
“Yes, Mother?”
“Would you come with me? I’d like to show you something.”
“Is it safe to leave Gabriel here alone?”
“Yes, I often have. No one comes out here.”
“If you’re sure…”
“I’m sure.” She held out her arm, and he took it to escort her out of the cabin.
Outside was a horse and buggy. “Uh…”
“I harnessed the mare while you were on the phone.”
“I’ve never driven one of these.”
“It’s as easy as rolling off a log. Hold still, Daisy.”
Noah assumed she was talking to the horse. He helped Morwen up onto the seat, then jogged around to the other side and hoisted himself up.
“How do we get where we’re going?” Noah had no clue, and how could the woman beside him give him directions since she was blind?
“Daisy knows the way.” She shook out the reins, whistled through her teeth, and the mare stepped out in a brisk trot. Her movement caused the seat to rock with enthusiasm.
Noah clung to the side of the seat, knowing his grip had to be knuckle-white, and he gazed at the passing scenery, determined not to let his nerves overcome him as they bounced along the rutted dirt roa
d.
He was Gabriel’s black swan, after all, and he wouldn’t embarrass his vampyre.
* * * *
It took about twenty minutes to get to their destination—the Braddockville Cemetery.
Daisy came to a halt outside the cemetery and lowered her head to nibble at the tender shoots of grass that were sprouting.
Noah jumped down and ran around to the other side of the buggy to help Morwen down. This time she took his arm, and led him past neat rows of headstones. Even the oldest ones, which dated back more than two hundred years, were in decent repair, for while they were discolored, the names on them—Granger, Littlebury, Hadley—were legible.
In the far corner, a white wrought iron fence separated a half dozen graves from the rest of the cemetery, and a huge chestnut tree spread its branches over the spot as if to protect it from the weather. Around the tree’s trunk curved a marble bench.
Noah gazed at the headstones and felt his throat start to close up. “Are these Gabriel’s black swans?”
“Yes.” Morwen had no trouble finding and opening the gate. She walked to each grave and touched it, naming the black swan who lay beneath. “David Granger, born 1928, died 1973. Samuel Granger, David’s uncle, born 1919, died 1951. Jane Littlebury, born 1900, died 1943. Jennie Hadley, born 1881, died 1916.”
“Wait, there are two bodies in this grave.”
“Owen Littlebury and his lover, Phineas Hadley. They were born a few weeks apart in 1847. They died the same day in 1898. Owen was Master Granger’s black swan, but Phineas loved him and refused to stay behind.”
Beneath the names and the dates were the engraved words: The soul of Jonathan was knit with the soul of David, and Jonathan loved him as his own soul.
“Oh,” Noah breathed. He crouched down and trailed his fingertips over the words.
Morwen made her way unerringly to the last marker and laid her hand on the smooth curve of its headstone. “Remember Littlebury.”
“Excuse me?” Why would Noah remember—? He realized his mistake as he studied the name and the dates inscribed beneath it. And the words. For where thou art, there is the world itself, and where thou art not, desolation. “Oh, I see. And he was Gabriel’s first black swan?”
“His black swan, his friend, his love.”
Noah’s mouth went dry. “Did he love any of his other black swans?”