The Black Swan Read online

  “May I…?”

  “I’m sorry, no.” He remembered Pop telling him it would kill him. That wasn’t what distressed him, though. No, he knew Gabriel was one of the kindest vampyres in the country; more than any of the other vampyres, he grieved the loss of his black swans; and Noah just didn’t want Gabriel to have another death—Noah’s death—on his conscience.

  Vampyres were generally pale, but it seemed to Noah that just then, Gabriel turned ghost-white.

  “I’d better leave.”

  “I wish you wouldn’t. I can’t give you what you need, but could I be your friend?”

  “If that’s all you’re willing to give me…”

  What was Gabriel talking about? Noah would give him everything he had, but what Gabriel needed was a black swan, and as much as Noah wished it was otherwise, he just didn’t have that option.

  Gabriel held out his hand. “Then yes, I’d like you for my friend.”

  “Yes?” Noah took his hand, shivering not from how cool Gabriel’s flesh felt against his own heated skin, but because of how good it felt. “Awesomesauce!”

  Gabriel smiled and shook his head. “You are a boy, aren’t you? You remind me of Owen.”

  Noah felt a flash of jealousy. “Who’s Owen?”

  “He was my second black swan.”

  “Oh.” Noah bit his lip. That was right. How could he have forgotten that?

  “Shall I tell you about him?”

  “Please. Um…make yourself comfortable.” He waited until Gabriel took a seat in one of the booths, then set down the goblet before him. “I’ll get a beer and be right back.”

  Noah really wanted a few seconds to get himself under control. The beer was just to show Gabriel he wasn’t as much a boy as the vampyre might think.

  He walked out of the backroom to find Gabriel had made himself comfortable in the booth, and Noah slid in across from him.

  “I waited for your return.” Gabriel raised the goblet in a silent toast then brought it to his lips. Noah’s lips parted in mimicry as Gabriel drank the blood.

  Hoping to impress Gabriel, Noah popped the cap off his beer with his thumbnail; it was a trick Aunt Marjorie had taught him. He took a swallow, and listened as Gabriel began speaking not of Owen, but of Sam Granger, who he’d lost in Korea in 1951.

  Before he realized it, he’d finished his beer and Gabriel’s goblet was empty.

  “Let me get you another one.”

  “I’m sorry, it’s getting late, and I have to return home.”

  “Where is home?” Noah found himself willing to do whatever it might take to keep Gabriel here a bit longer. And if it grew too late to leave, Gabriel could shelter beneath his bed—Noah didn’t mind.

  “I stay with a friend who has a little cabin in the woods a few miles outside Braddockville. How much do I owe you for the blood?”

  “It’s a tin roof.”

  “Excuse me?”

  Noah tilted his head, pleased when Gabriel’s lips parted. “It’s on the house.”

  “Thank you.” Gabriel gave a slight smile and rose.

  “Will…will you come back?”

  “Do you want me to?”

  “Yes.” More than anything in the world. “Please.”

  “Then I’ll be back.” Gabriel touched his shoulder, then turned and walked out of the tavern.

  Noah followed and made sure the door was locked. He needed to wash the glasses—all these years later, and he still found himself doing that—and haul out the empties. Thank God he didn’t have to empty ashtrays. He remembered Pop and his brothers doing that when he was little, but the Golden Circle had been smoke-free since 1999. Once that was done, he’d get the bar ready for tomorrow night’s crowd.

  Softly he sang an old Dusty Springfield song under his breath.

  Gabriel had promised to return.

  And maybe one day Noah would work up the courage to defy Pop and offer Gabriel his throat.

  * * * *

  The next morning, while Noah was having a late breakfast, Pop called. Was the man psychic?

  “How’s everything going, son?”

  “Fine, Pop. We’re in the black.”

  “What, already?”

  “You don’t have to sound so surprised. I’m a good businessman.”

  Pop grunted. “That vampyre hasn’t turned up, has he?”

  “Gabriel?”

  Before he had to resort to lying, Pop continued. “No, of course not. He knows he’s not welcome.”

  “What? How would he know that?”

  “I may have had a conversation with him.”

  “Are you telling me you told a vampyre he couldn’t come to the Golden Circle?” Oh my God, is my father insane?

  “You’re my son, and I’ll do whatever I have to in order to protect you.”

  Fine protection that was. Noah might come from a family of black swans, but when all was said and done, he was a normal, and that wouldn’t help him at all.

  “I’m an adult, Pop.”

  Pop scoffed.

  Well, he was. He’d turned twenty-four on his last birthday.

  “And I—”—don’t need you poking your nose in my affairs. Of course he couldn’t say that—it would hurt his father’s feelings.

  Which wasn’t to say Pop wouldn’t hurt his.

  “Never mind. Just see you have nothing to do with him. Now, who are you dating?”

  “No one.”

  “You haven’t found a boyfriend yet?”

  “No, I’ve—”

  “Do you want us to find someone for you?”

  “Pop—”

  “Your brother’s wife knows someone she thinks will be perfect for you.”

  “Which brother?”

  “Chris.”

  He was the next closest to Noah in age after Donovan, and his wife Lainie was a nice woman. If she thought this guy was a match for him, it might work. But he felt he had to protest a little.

  “Another blind date, Pop?” The last time his family had set him up on one, it had been a disaster.

  His date thought it would be a good idea to take a man who ran a tavern to the Haven, the bar in Scottsville. As far as Noah was concerned, the Haven catered to a bunch of posers.

  Okay, that might be a bit overboard. He knew what the real problem was: this was the kind of place Gabriel would normally frequent, and those posers? They were probably nice guys who’d kill for a taste of Gabriel.

  Okay, not such nice guys.

  Noah found he didn’t care one way or the other.

  “I’m sorry, Daniel—”

  “My name is Darren.”

  “Sorry, Darren. I’ve got a headache, and I want to go home.”

  Darren threw a couple of twenties on the bar. Yeah, the drinks were that expensive. He got grope-y in the car, and then when they arrived at Noah’s house, he refused to take no for an answer.

  Noah’s growth spurt had never amounted to much more than an additional five inches, but with six older brothers, he’d learned how to defend himself. Darren drove away, cupping his bloody nose.

  “What’s wrong with a blind date?” Pop demanded.

  “Nothing, I suppose.” Noah had never told anyone about that horrible experience. He knew his brothers would have gone after Daniel—no, Darren—and beaten him to a pulp.

  “Good, good. I’ll tell Elaine to set it up. You’ll call and let me know how it goes.”

  “Okay. I have to go. I’ve got a delivery.”

  “Take care of yourself, son. I love you.”

  “Love you, too, Pop.”

  * * * *

  This blind date had gone fairly well as blind dates went. At least his brother’s wife’s selection took him to a nice restaurant for dinner and then to see a revival of Casablanca. Throughout dinner and the movie, Noah had looked forward to kissing Ted. However, when Ted did kiss him, up in the balcony when Rick and Ilsa finally kissed, there had been no flash, no flame, no…nothing.

  Ted took it well when
Noah declined a nightcap, and didn’t get angry when Noah wouldn’t invite him in or accept the offer of another date.

  “You’re a nice man, and I hope you find someone, but—”

  “But that someone won’t be you.”

  Noah gave him a rueful smile.

  “It’s okay, Noah. Blind dates can be hit or miss. I’m sorry we didn’t click.”

  “So am I. You’re being really nice about this.”

  Ted’s grin was sweet but wry. “Nothing like the word nice to sound a death knell on any relationship.”

  “I’m sorry…”

  “No, it’s okay. I shouldn’t have teased you. I’ve been where you are.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Coming down from a bad breakup?”

  “I wish. There wasn’t even anything to break up about.”

  “Bummer.”

  “Could we…could we maybe be friends?”

  “Sure, why not?” He didn’t lean in for another kiss, just shook Noah’s hand, smiled, and left.

  He really was a nice guy. It was a shame he wasn’t Gabriel.

  Noah let himself into the house, locked the door, and went up to his bedroom—the one he’d had since he was a boy—and stripped off his clothes. He still didn’t leave them in a puddle on the floor.

  And then he jerked off to thoughts of the vampyre who would never be his.

  * * * *

  Chapter 6

  Noah couldn’t not look up every time the Golden Circle’s door opened, much as he might not want to show eagerness. He needed to know who was coming in so he could greet his patrons either by name if he knew them or a smile and a hi if they were new.

  He was surprised when Gabriel came back a few weeks later—he was—again waiting until after the Golden Circle had closed before he tapped on the door. And he wouldn’t enter until Noah gave him permission.

  “You know you can come right on in,” Noah assured him, his heart pounding and his mouth dry once again. “I’ve told you to enter freely.”

  “It’s only polite.”

  Noah nodded and got their drinks. They sat in a booth, and Gabriel chatted about another of the men who’d been his black swan and their experiences during the Vietnam War.

  “Is this information declassified?” Noah asked.

  Gabriel smiled at him. “It’s been forty-two years.”

  “Yes, but the government can be funny. I don’t want you to get in trouble.”

  “No trouble. No one remembers what David and I did.” His expression was sad.

  “Did you love him very much?”

  “He was my black swan.”

  And that was probably all he felt he had to say. After David’s death, Gabriel had refused to accept another black swan.

  He reached across the table and rested his palm on Noah’s hand. “But thank you for your concern.”

  Noah liked the feel of Gabriel’s hand on his and hoped the vampyre would keep it there, but Gabriel didn’t, and Noah had to force himself not to pout.

  Gabriel stayed until just before sunrise, and then he left.

  Three weeks later the pattern was repeated, and they talked for a while, this time about what was going on in Noah’s life. Noah mentioned Ted, although not by name. The last thing he wanted was to send a vampyre after an innocent normal.

  Gabriel didn’t wait for the threat of daylight to become apparent. “I have to leave,” he said.

  And he walked out, his goblet of blood hardly touched.

  “Well, hell.”

  Noah really was surprised when Gabriel returned a fourth time. He’d been certain the last time would be the last time he’d see the vampyre.

  “I apologize for my abrupt departure when I was here last.”

  “I…It’s okay.” Noah wasn’t sure how he should feel about this situation. He loved the fact that Gabriel sat across from him, sipping his goblet of blood. The thing was, he’d always been aware that Gabriel visited the cemetery in Braddockville in January, March, July, and September. By rights, he shouldn’t have returned to the Golden Circle—if he was going to at all—until January, when he’d honor the black swan he’d lost in France during World War II.

  Why was Gabriel returning so frequently?

  However, Gabriel didn’t offer an explanation, and Noah didn’t ask for one, afraid it might be that Gabriel simply had nothing better to do on a weekday night.

  They talked, and Noah made sure to keep his big mouth shut about the blind dates he’d been on and how many times afterward he’d called Ted to grouse about them.

  “It’s not their fault they’re not who you want, Noah.”

  “No, it isn’t. Thanks for the wakeup call, Ted.”

  “Hey, that’s what friends are for. Speaking of which…” Ted began talking about the man he was seeing. He sounded happier than he’d been in a while, and Noah was pleased. That made him all the more determined to talk to his father about stopping with the blind dates.

  The next day, Noah had a long chat with him, and Pop promised to back off.

  To Noah’s surprise, he actually did.

  “Have…have you found a black swan yet?”

  Gabriel shook his head, which Noah kind of expected. Noah was pretty sure Gabriel would bring his black swan with him when he came to the Golden Circle. That, or stop coming completely.

  Gabriel gazed toward the window. “I had best be going.”

  Noah licked his lips, suddenly nervous. “I know you’d normally be back in December, but would you mind returning next week? It’s Thanksgiving, and I don’t have anyone to spend it with this year.” He actually did. His brothers had all called and invited him to join them and their families, but with his recent moodiness, he’d be nothing but a downer, so he’d declined them all.

  “The tavern—”

  “No one will expect it to be open. Pop always closed it for Thanksgiving and Christmas.”

  Gabriel frowned, and Noah hurried on.

  “If…if you have other plans—”

  “Actually, I don’t. I’m…I’m alone.” His quiet words almost tore Noah apart. “Not that I want you to think I have no friends. Sebastian will be out of the country.”

  “Sebastian is just a friend?”

  “Yes. What else would he be?”

  “A…a boyfriend?”

  “No, nothing like that.”

  “Then you’ll come?” Noah’s lungs started to hurt from holding his breath.

  “I will. Thank you for asking me.”

  “Thank you for accepting. My house is just up the lane from the tavern.” He waved blindly over his shoulder. “Come whenever you like.”

  Gabriel touched his cheek. “I wish…” He shook his head and gave a wry smile. “I’ll see you next week.”

  Within seconds, Noah was alone in the tavern. He gazed thoughtfully at the veins in his wrist. He couldn’t offer Gabriel his throat, but he could offer the vampyre something else.

  And then, as much as it broke his heart, he’d have to suggest Gabriel find another tavern to frequent, because he couldn’t keep doing this.

  * * * *

  The house up the lane from the Golden Circle echoed with the sound of his lonely footsteps. Back when the entire family had lived here, there had been just enough room for seven sons and their parents. Now, with just Noah, it was way too large.

  In spite of being happy in Florida, Pop would never forgive him if he put it up for sale. He’d have to find someone to share it with.

  He forced Gabriel’s image out of his mind.

  Noah wasn’t much of a cook, but most of the local supermarkets provided a Thanksgiving dinner for two or four or more for an affordable price. He ordered one that came with turkey, gravy, sage dressing, mashed potatoes, and a blueberry cobbler—he didn’t care for pumpkin pie—and picked it up the day before the holiday, along with vanilla bean ice cream for the cobbler.

  He stored it away in his fridge and freezer, then went online to do a little research before he o
pened the tavern for the evening.

  One of these days Noah would have to ask Ted if he’d wipe Noah’s browser history in case anything happened to him. If anyone ever saw this, they’d think he was a suicidal whack job.

  * * * *

  Noah watched the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade while he heated his holiday dinner. He had the television tuned to CBS and watched the Philadelphia Eagles and the Detroit Lions battle it out while he ate his lonely meal.

  He’d have asked Ted and his boyfriend to join him, but Ted had told him they were going to spend the holiday with Larry’s family.

  By 4:30, he’d called his parents and brothers to wish them a happy Thanksgiving, the leftovers were back in the fridge, and everything was in order except for one last thing. He chose his fanciest goblet, took down a bowl, pushed up his sleeve, and tied a tourniquet around his upper left arm. He wiped the crook of his elbow with an alcohol swab, dried it with a gauze square, and picked up the knife.

  Oh God, he really hated knives, a phobia he’d had all his life and which no one could understand. He’d almost let his appendix rupture because he was so afraid of them. Pop told him he’d been lucky to survive, and he’d been right, but Noah still gave knives a wide berth.

  But this was for Gabriel.

  He drew in a deep breath and made the cut.

  “At least I don’t faint at the sight of blood,” he muttered to himself. It was ironic, but he’d never claimed to be logical. He released the tourniquet, pleased at the steady stream of blood that ran into the bowl. When he judged there was enough, he picked up another square of gauze, pressed it to the wound, and taped it in place.

  With that done, he poured the blood into the goblet—never spilling a drop—and stored the goblet in the microwave. He rinsed the bowl and knife and put them in the dishwasher.

  Hopefully the blood would still be warm by the time Gabriel got here.

  Otherwise he’d just have to nuke it like he usually did.

  * * * *

  It wasn’t quite five when the doorbell rang, and Noah glanced out the window. The sun had set almost fifteen minutes earlier, and now it was dark and the streetlights were on. It was still early, though. Maybe Gabriel was as anxious to see him as he was to see Gabriel? He hurried to the front door and flung it open.