A Quick Bite

Chapter 11

"She's up!"
Everyone in the van jumped as Vicki screeched those words, including Thomas, who was startled into slamming on the brakes, sending them all jerking in their seats.
"Geez," Lissianna muttered, grateful for the seat belt she wore.
"Vicki, love," Thomas called out with false cheer as lie finished parking. "If you ever do that again while I'm driving, I'll ring your scrawny little neck."
"Sorry, Thomas." The girl didn't sound very apologetic. "I was just startled to see Aunt Marguerite waiting for us. I mean, Lissianna figured we'd be back before everyone else was awake, but Aunt Marguerite's up."
"And boy does she look mad," Juli commented.
Lissianna had to agree. Her mother did indeed look mad, standing in the open door between the house and garage. In fact, she looked just as mad today as she had yesterday, despite the fact that she must see Greg was there in the van with them.
He was in the front passenger seat again at Thomas's instruction. The boys, he insisted, should ride up front. A totally sexist decision as Juli had complained, but Lissianna hadn't minded, it told her that Thomas liked the other man. For some reason that pleased her.
"Okay." Thomas turned off the van engine and unbuckled his seat belt. "Act casual. There's no reason for Aunt Marguerite to be angry. Just wave at her and smile, then we unload the groceries and go in together. Got it?"
"Got it," everyone answered, and began to move. The van was immediately tilled with sound as the doors opened and everyone scrambled out.
"Thank you," Lissianna murmured, as Greg took her hand to help her disembark. He gave her fingers a light squeeze, then turned to help the next person as she followed Mirabeau to the back of the van. She cast a hopeful sideways glance toward the door between the garage and house as she walked, only to find that her mother was still there. Lissianna sighed, sorry they'd had to return. The last couple of hours had been so relaxed and fun with everyone joking and laughing. Greg had proven himself to be very much a gentleman when he wasn't tied down to a bed. At the family-run restaurant where Thomas had taken them for their meal, Greg had held doors and pulled out chairs with an old-world charm Lissianna found missing in most of today's men.
Juli. Vicki, and Greg were the only ones who had eaten. The others had merely sipped coffee or juice and watched with amusement as the three gobbled down full breakfasts as if they'd been fasting for days.
Afterward they'd hit the grocery store. The moment they were inside, the twins had begun to argue over who should get to push the shopping cart. Greg had settled the dispute by suggesting he should manage it, leaving them both free to choose what to put in. Not that he hadn't thrown in several choices himself; the man had as bad a sweet tooth as the twins. In the end, the shopping cart had been full of little more than junk food. There were sweets, salty options, frozen and ready-made foods like hot dogs and pizza, and three different kinds of pop. From the looks of it Greg and the girls thought they were going to be holding a monthlong pajama party.
"Geez," Lissianna murmured, as she and Mirabeau reached the back of the van just as Thomas opened the double doors to reveal the groceries inside. "I can't believe we bought so many groceries. Who's going to eat all this?"
"You'd think we were staying a month, wouldn't you?" Elspeth asked with amusement, as she and the others straggled up.
"It isn't that much," Vicki protested.
"There is enough food here to feed a family of ten," Mirabeau said.
"Or two growing girls and one big strong mortal with a hearty appetite," Juli countered.
"Two growing girls and one big strong mortal with a hearty appetite for junk food," Jeanne Louise said dubiously, then glanced at Greg. "I can understand the girls eating this way, they're teenagers, but surely you don't eat like this at home?"
"No," he admitted with a grin. "I eat healthy stuff: fruit, veggies, rice, and grilled chicken." He leaned into the van to grab two of the three cases of pop, waiting for Thomas to grab the last one before using an elbow to push one of the back doors closed as he added, "But I'm on vacation this week, so I thought I'd be bad. Next week I'll go back to healthy food and exercise."
"You mortals." Thomas chuckled as he nudged the second door closed. "You spend one or two weeks a year on vacation eating everything you like, then fifty weeks of the year repenting. It must be a drag."
"Hmm." Greg's mouth twisted as the group reluctantly started toward the door, where Marguerite waited. "I suppose you guys don't have to worry about weight with a diet of blood, but I think I'll stick with Fritos and pizza."
Lissianna was still smiling at his comment as they reached her mother. Her smile quickly faded, and she shifted uncomfortably as she noted her grim expression.
"Mom," she greeted her with a nod. "You're up early."
"Shopping?" Marguerite asked archly, then gestured for Lissianna to follow and moved halfway back across the garage, passing two cars and reaching her sports car before turning to face her.
"I know," Lissianna said quickly. "You're upset that we took Greg shopping, but there was no food in the house, and he and the twins were starved. And," she added, "he behaved perfectly the whole time. He didn't try to escape or convince us to take him home again or anything." Lissianna paused to take a breath, then added, "Really, Mom, you can't just keep the man tied up in bed all the time. This is kidnapping. You were supposed to wipe his memory, not bring him back here."
Marguerite sighed, her anger easing somewhat. "I intended to. Unfortunately, he has a very strong mind. Worse yet, he had figured out what we were, and that just made it harder."
"Yes, I know," Lissianna admitted. "He was asking questions this morning, and I explained some things."
Marguerite nodded. "Well, his knowledge and wariness make it almost impossible to control him now. Mar-tine is the only one who can do it anymore, and she has to actually, mentally control him. As long as she is actually inside his thoughts, he does what we want, but the mo-ment he is released..." She shrugged. "He does not even stay in thrall for a couple of minutes anymore... And we could not wipe his memory."
"Damn." Lissianna felt her shoulders slump wearily. She glanced to the door where the others were still waiting. They hadn't given up the "all-for-one" bit and were staying within shouting distance in case she needed some backup. She smiled faintly at their show of support, then glanced back to her mother to ask, "So, what now?"
"We brought him back for your uncle Lucian to look into it."
"Uncle Lucian?" Lissianna leaned against her mother's sports car, her legs suddenly weak with worry. When Uncle Lucian was called in to take care of something, it was bad.
"Do not panic," Marguerite said quickly. "Lucian is older, much older, and much more skilled and powerful. I am hoping he can fix it, that he can wipe his memory where we cannot."
Lissianna hoped so, too. She knew very well that if Uncle Lucian couldn't erase his memory, her uncle wouldn't hesitate to erase Greg to protect their people.
"When is he coming?" she asked anxiously and felt her eyes narrow when her mother bit her lip and hesitated.
"Well, that is a problem," she admitted. "We are having trouble contacting him."
"What?" Lissianna asked.
"Bastien promised to track him down for me. In the meantime," she said with forced cheer, "there is no reason Dr. Hewitt cannot treat your phobia while he is here."
Lissianna rolled her eyes at her persistence. The woman just never gave up on anything she'd set her mind to. Shaking her head, she said, "I just can't see him feeling much like treating me when he's being held here against his will."
"I am sure he will come around," Marguerite assured her. "He seems a reasonable enough man. And as you said, he went out shopping with the bunch of you this morning and behaved beautifully, returning without a problem." Her gaze slid to the man in question, and she added, "He may be coming around already."
Lissianna followed her gaze to Greg. He was watching them with solemn eyes, obviously aware they were discussing him. Forcing a smile for his sake, she turned back to her mother and pointed out, "You haven't any idea how long it will take for Bastien to track down Uncle Lucian. It could take a while."
"Yes," Marguerite acknowledged. Uncle Lucian had a tendency to disappear for extended periods. No one knew where he went, and he always turned up when there was an emergency needing his attention, but who knew if he'd think this an emergency that needed his immediate attention? After all, Greg was contained and no immediate threat so long as he was here.
"You can't keep him tied up," Lissianna said.
"Lissianna--"
"Mother, you can't," she argued. "He's not an animal, and you can't keep him in thrall in any way that it won't bother him."
"Yes, but--"
"I'll talk to him," she said quickly. "If he promises not to try to get away--"
"I shall talk to him," Marguerite interrupted firmly. "And then I will decide."
Lissianna hesitated, but it wasn't like she had much say in the matter. She gave a reluctant nod but didn't know what she'd do if her mother decided he needed to stay tied up. Lissianna didn't think she could stand idly by for that. If they tied him up again, she'd probably help him leave.
"Here they come."
Greg nodded grimly when Thomas murmured those words.
"Aunt Marguerite doesn't look angry anymore," Juli said hopefully.
"No, but Lissi doesn't look pleased," Vicki pointed out.
"She looks worried." Jeanne Louise sounded concerned herself, and Greg was aware of the suddenly anxious glances cast his way by the group. He supposed they were worried about what this might mean for him. He was rather worried himself.
"Well, why are you all standing around?" Marguerite smiled as she led Lissianna up to the group. "Your groceries will go bad. You had best get them inside."
Greg blinked in surprise when she suddenly took the two cases of pop he carried. She lifted them away as if they were as light as feathers and turned to hand them to Vicki, who happened to be standing nearest. He was even more startled when the teenager took the cases in one hand, holding them up like a waitress carrying a tray of drinks as she started into the house. Greg shook his head slowly, he'd have to ask Lissianna just how much added strength the nanos gave them. Those cases had felt heavy to him.
"Come along, Dr. Hewitt." Marguerite Argeneau caught his elbow in a firm hand and turned him toward the door. "The children will put the groceries away. In the meantime, I would like a word, if you do not mind?"
Despite her polite phrasing, Greg felt like prey being culled from the herd by a predator as she steered him away from the others.
"I'll be along as soon as the groceries are put away," Lissianna called, and Greg glanced over his shoulder to see an encouraging smile force her stiff lips upward. He managed a half smile of his own.
"There is nothing to be anxious about, Dr. Hewitt," Marguerite said soothingly as she led him through the kitchen and into the hall. "We are just going to have a chat."
Greg didn't bother to respond. There was no sense in lying and claiming he wasn't worried, the woman could read his mind, so he held his tongue; but his heart sank as she led him upstairs. She was taking him back to the bedroom, and he didn't doubt she would tie him up again once she had him there. Greg didn't think he could bear being strapped down to the bed again after the freedom he'd enjoyed that afternoon.
The outing with the others had been a pleasure for Greg. He'd enjoyed the company as much as the temporary freedom. The younger Argeneaus were really a great bunch, and Lissianna... She was smart, funny, fun. He'd watched her relate to her cousins and found himself impressed. She was openly affectionate and caring, obviously respected them and their feelings, and she was never condescending with the twins. He liked her. She was a genuinely nice person. Not to mention sexy as hell.
Greg grimaced at his own thoughts, then sighed heavily as Marguerite led him into the bedroom where he'd spent the better part of the last two days tied up.
"Shall we sit on the couch," Marguerite suggested mildly when he headed automatically for the bed.
Greg did his best to hide his surprise as he quickly changed direction and walked to the sofa set against the wall by the window. He settled at one end as Marguerite took the other. He then waited, wondering what was coming. Much to his surprise, the woman seemed unsure of how to start, and hesitated for several moments before saying, "Lissianna tells me she explained some things about us this morning."
"She answered a lot of questions, yes."
Marguerite nodded. "Is there anything you have thought of since then that you wish clarified?"
Greg hesitated. After spending a good deal of time with the younger set, he was suddenly aware of the difference in Marguerite Argeneau's speech. Lissianna and the others had what he would have called a slight accent, just a small difference to their pronunciation that was barely noticeable, but hinted at a foreign background. Marguerite, on the other hand, had a very pronounced accent; she also avoided slang, and rarely used contractions, speaking very precise English. It made him curious.
"You aren't Canadian by birth," he said finally.
"I was born in England," Marguerite informed him.
Greg frowned. He wouldn't have guessed that her accent was English. At least it wasn't like any English accent he'd ever heard.
"I have been alive a long time, Dr. Hewitt, and lived many places."
"How long and how many places?" he asked promptly, and Marguerite smiled at his bluntness.
"I was born on August 4, 1265," she announced.
Greg's jaw dropped open, then he shook his head and said, "Impossible. That would make you over seven hundred years old."
Marguerite grinned. "Nevertheless, it is true. When I was born England was in civil strife and Henry III was king. There was no indoor plumbing and chivalry was more than the answer in a crossword puzzle. Though, of course, it was only afforded to the wealthy and powerful," she added wryly.
"And I suppose you were one of the wealthy and powerful?'" he asked.
Marguerite shook her head. "I was a peasant. I was the unwanted by-blow of one of many lords who visited the castle where my mother was a servant."
"Unwanted?" Greg asked sympathetically.
"Sadly, yes. I fear the only reason she remembered my birth date was because it was during the Battle of Eve-sham." Marguerite shrugged. "I was working in the castle as soon as I was walking, and I would have died there-- probably at a very young age--if Jean Claude had not happened along and lifted me up out of all of that."
"I've been told Jean Claude had a problem with alcohol?"
Marguerite nodded slowly. "And it killed him. He died when he partook of too much of a drunk man's blood, and passed out He did not even wake up when the house he was in burst into flames around him. He burned to death."
"Yes, I think Thomas mentioned that Jean Claude had died in a fire," he said, then raised an eyebrow and asked, "So you people can die?"
"Oh yes; not easily, but we can die," she assured him. "And fire is one of the things that can kill us."
"Not a pleasant way to go, I would imagine," Greg murmured.
"No, and I would prefer that Lissianna not follow in her father's footsteps."
"Which is why you brought me here." He raised an eyebrow. "You don't want her feeding... er..."
"Off the hoof," Marguerite offered. "She could, of course, continue to feed that way, but it is a dangerous business. Aside from increasing the risk of discovery for our people, it also carries the risk of feeding off the wrong sort and suffering side effects."
"I suppose by the 'wrong sort' you're referring to the homeless people at the shelter?" Greg asked.
"I am not being snobbish, Dr. Hewitt," Marguerite said wearily. "But homeless people who seek out shelters are hardly the healthiest individuals. Their blood is not the best nutritionally."
Greg nodded. Lissianna had mentioned the same thing earlier, but he now thought there were probably a lot of people with homes who ate junk-food-filled diets and would be just as un-nutritious for a meal. He didn't bother to mention this, however, it wasn't really important. "And the side effects you worry about are her getting drunk?"
Marguerite nodded. "Lissianna returned home from the shelter drunk, or high, several times after feeding on the wrong individual when she still lived here, and I know it still happens. She cannot always tell if they have indulged in spirits or narcotics until it is too late. Those that use them have built up a resistance; she has none. So what may leave one of them just feeling a slight high and still acting sober can leave her completely intoxicated."
Greg tried to imagine Lissianna intoxicated, but couldn't. She just didn't seem the sort.
"So," Marguerite said suddenly. "What do you think of my daughter?"
Startled by the sudden change of topic, Greg found himself stiffening as a myriad of thoughts rushed into his mind. He thought Lissianna was beautiful and intelligent and sweet and kind and she smelled good and... The list rolling through his mind was endless, but before he could pick from the collection of warm and pleasant things he thought and felt about Lissianna, Marguerite was nodding and asking, "And how are you handling the knowledge of our kind? I realize it must be disconcerting."
Greg smiled faintly at the understatement to her words. Disconcerting? Oh yeah. Having your belief system and view of the world turned upside down could be a bit disconcerting, but it was also incredibly interesting. Especially after talking with Lissianna and having some things explained.
He supposed his interest would seem odd to others, but... well, after all, these were incredible people, with skills and abilities he could only guess at and who had been around a long time. Marguerite claimed to be over seven hundred years old. Dear God, the world events she must have witnessed, the advances in technology, the people she might have met over time... real historical figures who had done great things that Greg and others could only read about. Even Lissianna--at over two hundred years old--must have seen things that would boggle Ills mind.
In a way, he found himself almost grateful to have been brought here. This was certainly more interesting than lounging around by the sea or playing beach volleyball.
Realizing that Marguerite was waiting for an answer, Greg glanced up, but before he could speak, she nodded again, and asked, "Would you be willing to stay here as our guest and treat her?"
Greg stared, suddenly realizing that she had been getting his answers by reading his mind, which was why she wasn't bothering to wait for him to verbalize them. He'd briefly forgotten her ability, but now that he did recall, Greg was more amused than annoyed. It had saved his having to come up with a polite way to say what he thought. Although, he supposed he should be alarmed; not all his thoughts and feelings for Lissianna were G-rated.
"Dr. Hewitt?" Marguerite prompted.
"Call me Greg," he murmured, noting with interest that she was appearing impatient, even frustrated. It seemed that his wandering thoughts had prevented her getting an answer to her question. Interesting, he thought.
"Will you treat Lissianna?" she repeated.
A small wry smile tugging at his lips, he said, "You tell me."
Her eyes narrowed at the challenge, then she tilted her head and went silent. Greg spent the next moments trying to keep his thoughts blank, testing to see if he could block her. When he saw impatience again flicker across her face, he almost convinced himself that he had blocked her, but a moment later, she straightened and nodded. "You would rather someone else tend to her therapeutic needs while you pursue her sexually, but you also wish to help her and feel that Jeanne Louise is right and you can't be held to the usual ethics in this instance, so will help her," she said calmly, then stood. "Now, I got very little sleep this morning; I think I shall return to my bed until the sun sets."
"Bed?" Greg echoed absently, his mind consumed with horror at how precisely she'd read what he was feeling. The woman was every guy's nightmare--a mother who knew exactly what the fellow wanted and couldn't be fooled by good manners and polite lies.
'"We do not sleep in coffins anymore, Greg. There was a time when coffins and crypts were the safest place for us to sleep, protecting us from both the sunlight and anyone who might hunt us, but that time is past. We sleep in beds, in bedrooms with windows treated to keep out the sun's harmful rays, and dark curtains over them as added protection." Marguerite tilted her head, and asked, "Did you not realize you were in Lissianna's room?"
"Er... yes," he said, feeling a bit of an idiot. "And I didn't really believe you slept in coffins, but--"
"But you were not sure."
Greg nodded apologetically.
"Well, rest easy, there is no coffin," Marguerite assured him, and moved toward the door. "Lissianna has been standing out in the hall for several moments, not wishing to interrupt. She will be relieved to find you still untied. Enjoy the rest of your afternoon. I hope it is productive."