Twenty-three
TJ got out of her cab and checked the address against the card the woman had given her. It was correct and the sign over the small storefront office read DE LA FONTAINE ANTIQUES.
When she put a hand on the doorknob, TJ got such a feeling of foreboding she almost turned around and left, but she forced herself to open the door and enter. After all, she told herself, her life might depend on what she learned inside.
A couple was inside, walking the aisles and occasionally picking up objects and checking the price tags. They were obviously tourists, with the man wearing Bermuda shorts and the woman in a dress of outlandish colors.
The attractive dark-haired woman from the other night appeared from behind the counter and smiled at TJ. When TJ started to speak, the woman shook her head, cast her eyes at the tourists, and motioned TJ through a door into a back room.
“Make yourself comfortable, dear,” she said in a voice devoid of accent. “I’ll be with you in a moment.”
TJ took a seat at a large, ornately carved table in the rear of the room and glanced around her at the antiques, which filled every corner. She was no expert, but she thought the pieces were exquisite and knew they were probably worth a small fortune.
After a few moments, TJ heard the front door shut. Seconds later, the woman appeared. “I’ve put the Closed sign on the door so we won’t be disturbed,” she said.
When TJ said nothing, the woman approached and held out her hand. “I am Carmilla de la Fontaine,” she said.
TJ shook her hand. “I’m TJ O’Reilly.”
“Yes,” Carmilla said. “I know.”
“Have we met?” TJ asked.
“No, dear. I got that from your mind the other night.”
“You read my mind?”
Carmilla made a dismissive motion with her hand. “Not exactly, but I was able to get certain impressions.”
TJ put her face in her hands. “I’m so confused,” she moaned.
Carmilla moved to a counter. “Would you like some hot tea? I’ve always found tea to be very soothing in times of crisis.”
TJ nodded and watched as Carmilla prepared two cups of tea and served them on an elaborate silver service.
“Milk or sugar?”
“Sugar and lemon, please,” TJ answered, amazed that they were sitting here having tea after the woman had just told her she could read her mind.
As she poured, Carmilla said, “I sense you are very confused and somewhat disoriented about what happened to you last night.”
“Yes.”
“First let me say that I am like you,” Carmilla said in a low, calm voice. “That is, we share certain characteristics through no choice of our own.”
“Are you . . . are you a vampire?” TJ asked.
“We prefer the term Vampyre, with a Y,” Carmilla said with a smile. “And, yes, I am, and I suspect you are, too, my dear.”
TJ, surprised at Carmilla’s openness, took a deep drink of her tea. It was delicious and the warm liquid did seem to calm her a bit.
Carmilla stared at her for a moment. “How is it you are one of us and don’t know it?” she asked.
TJ shook her head. “I’m not one of you. . . . At least, I don’t think I am yet.”
“But one of us must have taken you through the Rite of Transformation?”
TJ grimaced at the word. “Yes. Several months ago, in Houston, a man who is . . . a Vampyre named Roger Niemann kidnapped me. He did perform certain rituals on me, against my will, of course.”
She hesitated at the look of hatred that came over Carmilla’s face at her mention of the name Roger Niemann.
“Is something wrong?” TJ asked, wondering if she’d said something to anger the woman.
“No, not with you, my dear,” Carmilla said, reaching across the table to pat TJ’s hand. “It’s just that I’ve had some dealings with this Roger Niemann, and ‘dislike’ is much too mild a word for how I feel about him.
“However,” Carmilla continued, “you say Niemann did perform the Transformation ritual on you, and yet you don’t think you have been changed by it?”
TJ’s face sobered. “Oh, I was changed all right. But, soon after he finished with me, some friends found me and treated me with medications that made most of the symptoms go away—at least for a while.”
Carmilla’s face lit up with excitement. “You say these friends have a treatment that can reverse the Transformation?”
TJ nodded. “At least, partially. Now, however, some of the symptoms are returning. That’s why we’re here looking for Roger. We know he’s been experimenting with procedures to reverse the Transformation and we want to get some information from him.”
Carmilla’s face paled and TJ noticed her hand begin to shake, spilling her tea. “You say, Roger Niemann is here in New Orleans?” she asked in a hoarse voice.
“We’re almost sure he is,” TJ replied, “but we don’t know just where yet.”
Carmilla took a deep breath, forcing herself to calm down, and poured them both more tea.
“Now, TJ, you must start from the very beginning and tell me everything you can about what happened to you and how your treatment affected your Transformation.”
It took TJ over an hour and a half to explain to Carmilla how Roger, racked with guilt over his need to kill to satisfy his lust for blood, had chosen her to be his mate. How out of both a physical attraction for her and a desire to have another doctor to help him in his research, he hoped to find a cure for Vampyrism. Though she didn’t remember her treatment, she told Carmilla what Sam and Matt had told her about how they’d used antibiotics to kill the plasmids that carried the DNA genes that caused the symptoms of Vampyrism.
When she was finished, Carmilla was clearly excited about what she’d heard. “And did the treatment work?” she asked.
“Only partially, and the cure was only temporary,” TJ answered. “I find myself again exhibiting some of the symptoms, and that is why we hope to find Roger. We believe if he will share some of his research with us, we’ll be able to effect a permanent cure.”
“Oh, my dear,” Carmilla said, taking both of TJ’s hands in hers. “If only that is true.”
“Now that I’ve told you my story, perhaps you can explain to me why you hate Roger so much,” TJ said.
“That, too, is a long story, TJ. Basically, there are two types of Vampyres. Those that revel in their differences and think that normal people, those we call Normals, or Others, are our legitimate prey. The second type, and by far the most prevalent, are those like Roger and myself. Those who despise what we are and hate taking other lives so that we can survive.
“My aunt Jacqueline De La Fontaine headed a council in Houston of those who wanted peace with the Normals. Roger, when they approached him and asked him to cease his killing of innocent people, savagely murdered my aunt and some of her followers.” Carmilla’s face reddened and she gritted her teeth. “For that, I have sworn to kill Roger myself.”
TJ leaned forward and spoke earnestly. “But, Carmilla, if Roger holds the key to undoing the Transformation, you must not kill him. He seems to be the best hope for you and me and all of us who want to become human again.”
Carmilla nodded gravely. “You are correct, of course. And, my dear, if Roger does hold this key you speak of, then I may be inclined to spare his life if he shares it with the rest of us.”
When TJ started to speak, Carmilla held up her hand. “But, TJ, I must warn you. Recently, we’ve begun to have some killings in New Orleans that almost certainly are being done by one of us. If Roger is here in the city, then I will bet that it is he who is murdering these people. If that is so, then I fear he no longer wishes to revert to normal, for only someone who relishes killing can be committing these atrocities.”
“I cannot believe that, Carmilla. When I was undergoing the Transformation, Roger and I . . . Well, we became very close. I just know that he is innocent of these murders. He hated killing and was doing everything in his power to stop.”
Carmilla sighed. “I hope you are right, my dear. But now, you have given me much to think about, and to share with the members of my own Council. Where are you staying?”
“My friends and I are at the Royal Orleans.”
Carmilla rose. “Then go back to them, and not a word about what we’ve spoken about. I will get in touch with you after I’ve spoken to my Council. If they agree, we’ll help you find Roger and see what he has to say for himself.”
As TJ left the antique shop, Carmilla reminded her. “Remember, not a word to your friends. The other members of our race are very strict about secrecy, and I wouldn’t want you to put your friends’ lives in danger.”
With that chilling warning ringing in her mind, TJ made her way back to the hotel.