Chapter 186

Ste. Genevieve, Louisiana Territory, 1805

Jessup simply didn’t know what he was talking about. The moment Christian arrived in Ste. Genevieve, he knew there was plenty to keep him entertained in this French colonial town. The beautiful little city had been founded by a daring settler willing to cross the Mississippi River seventy years earlier. In that time, it had seen its fair share of fur traders, explorers, settlers, and Vampires. Christian was most interested in the latter.
His parents had been further west for most of the last twenty years, but when he mentioned he was excited to see this town firsthand, they agreed to bring their operation back to the east a bit, setting up their new base of operation in an old house built by French settlers a good forty years earlier. It was built in the old French style of having the post-in-ground, or poteaux-en-terre, and reminded him of the little log cabin he’d grown up in, except this house was much larger than that one room dwelling.
His mother had begged his father to let them go all the way back to Philadelphia. She missed Abigail, who was getting on in age, and her grandchildren. But Peter firmly believed it was his job to keep the untamed west bloodsucker free, so this would have to do for now. At some point, Christian got the feeling his mother would head back to Pennsylvania, whether her husband wished to come or not.
It didn’t take long at all for Christian to get to know his new teammates. They had all heard so much about him, since his father was so proud of his son and all that he had accomplished. “It must’ve been so rewarding, working for President Washington,” an older Hunter named Louis often mentioned.
Christian tried not to make a big deal out of his personal achievements, but it was clear Peter had already told all of them stories of Christian’s bravery, including how he’d helped carry Alexander Hamilton from the scene when he’d been mortality wounded, an event that had made the newspapers all the way out here, even if the media’s rendition wasn’t accurate. Christian tried to stay humble, but he did enjoy telling stories. Many nights when the team was not out hunting the undead, they would sit around the fireplace and hang on his every word as he retold stories from the Revolutionary War and his dealings with his team in the east after the conflict had ended. Most of the time, he tried to keep to what had actually transpired, but from time to time, he elaborated slightly. It was, after all, a form of entertainment. He may as well keep his audience captivated.
One of the Hunters was a beautiful blonde woman of French descent named Adele Laurent. Christian was taken with her immediately. She had the face of an angel. Perfectly sculpted pink lips, bright blue eyes, long lashes, and the sort of body that immediately excited him the moment he laid eyes on her. Her large breasts always peeked out from her low-cut French gowns, her narrow waist enticing him to wrap his hands around her middle. She was just the sort of girl to take up all of his attention, yet another reason he was glad he’d decided to come west.
One day, a few months after his arrival, his mother was scrubbing out the laundry in a basin in the kitchen while Christian read a book. He was doing his best to read in French, though it wasn’t a language he had complete command over yet. He’d been exposed to it in the army, since LaFayette had served alongside Washington, but he wasn’t as skilled as he’d like to be. If he were to pursue Adele, he’d need to know some of her native tongue. At the moment, he was preoccupied with the tongue in her mouth and not so much what she had to say, but if it were a relationship worth pursuing, that would have to change.
“You’re smitten with her, aren’t you, son?” Elizabeth asked as she wrung water from one of her husband’s shirts.
His initial reaction was to pretend as if he didn’t know what his mother was talking about, but he knew she was a wise woman, an observant woman. “She’s quite stunning.”
“She is. I believe Andre may be interested in her as well, though I’m not certain.”
“Andre?” Christian echoed. It surprised him. The other Guardian, a large fellow with a barrel chest and a mop of dark curls that was always askew atop his massive head, was a loud mouth fool. He’d been born in this town, decades ago, to a family of farmers. If they had ever had a sophisticated bone in their bodies, that was no longer the case now. While his parents had chosen not to Transform, he had done so in order to keep those early settlers safe. Now, he was an unschooled hick. Christian certainly wasn’t afraid of Adele being more interested in Andre than she was a war hero who’d come to help his parents rid the town of the Vampires the likes of Andre Boucher had missed. He wanted to laugh but didn’t do so. His mother didn’t deserve to have him laugh in her face, even if she was obviously mistaken.
“Andre grew up here. He sort of took her under his wing when her family relocated last year. He speaks French, and since she’s not entirely comfortable with English, I believe it makes her feel more comfortable.”
“I speak French, too,” Christian argued, causing his mother to raise an eyebrow. “Je parle anglais!” he insisted.
“Vous ne parlez pas couramment la français,” Elizabeth countered.
What did she mean he didn’t speak French fluently? Narrowing his eyes, Christian countered, “J’y travaille!”
His mother laughed aloud at him. “You’d better work harder then, son.” Done with the wash, she loaded it back into the basket she’d used to carry it into the kitchen in order to take it out to hang.
Setting his book aside, Christian followed her outside, folding his arms as she went about placing the laundry on the line. It was a nice summer day. The heat never bothered their kind, so it didn’t matter except it would dry the laundry more quickly, which would give his mother a chance to bring it in before his father returned from the trading post he’d opened in town. He hated to come home to see Elizabeth had fallen behind on her chores. Christian couldn’t blame him. A good wife shouldn’t struggle to get her work done, particularly when she didn’t have any children underfoot.
“How did you know father was the one for you?” Christian asked as she hung a pair of his favorite pants on the line. He liked that they had so many pockets. It was good for keeping all of his weapons secure. He needed to create some sort of a belt that would store them all easily within reach….
He realized he’d asked a question and missed part of the answer, but since the majority of what women had to say wasn’t important anyway, he figured it wasn’t too big of a deal that he had no idea what the first sentence had been. Besides, it wasn’t as if he thought he might want to marry Adele. He did want to see her breasts, though. She had such lovely breasts.
“We were on a hunt together when he asked me to go to dinner with him. It was an odd request, but at the time, I was an adult, so much older than him, actually, and I’d never had time to court much since I was always out hunting the undead. I agreed to go. He certainly isn’t the sort of man I envisioned myself with, but I was drawn to his self-confidence. We’ve had our ups and downs like any couple, but I’m thankful I married him. If I hadn’t, I wouldn’t have had you and your sister.” She turned and smiled at him, and Christian returned the smile. He did love his mother, even if she wasn’t perfect. She didn’t always obey his father as she should. She was headstrong and often said things that were inappropriate for a woman. But she loved her children and took good care of them. Also, if it wasn’t for her, he wouldn’t be the Guardian he was today.
“Do you think… when Father passes along, Mother, you’ll be inclined to marry again?” Christian asked, watching her take the last of the laundry out of the basket and hang it on the line. The wind caught it, almost pulling out of her hands, but she grabbed hold of the shirt and steadied it, getting it pinned into place before it got away.
Once that was settled, she turned to look at him. “I don’t know, son. I haven’t spent too much time thinking about it. I assume your father has a couple of hundred years left. He’s not all that old. I suppose it’s possible… if I live for another hundred years or so past his death, I might grow lonely and look for someone else to spend my time with. Or, I may decide to find a Hunter and end it all myself.” She shrugged as if her words were not that important.
Christian stared at her for a moment, not sure which was more surprising, that she hadn’t considered what she might do after his father died or that she was contemplating having herself killed by a Hunter. “You would be hard pressed to find another man like Father,” he noted.
“That is quite true.” She didn't necessarily seem to see that as a bad thing, which had him raising an eyebrow. “Your father is reckless at times, though, Christian. You haven’t been on too many hunts with him since you’ve returned. I think you shall see. He worries me a bit. This team isn’t like the one we hunted with for so long in Pennsylvania or even further west in the Indian Territory. These Goodies are not as skilled as the ones we are used to working with. He needs to be more… cautious.”
Christian wanted to tell her she was being ridiculous, that of course Peter Henry was precisely as cautious as he needed to be, but after seeing Alexander Hamilton rush into a battle he didn’t need to and pay the ultimate price for it, he saw her point. His father had a tendency to do that as well, from time to time. In his case, it wouldn’t be the stray bullet from a Hunter that would end him since a Hunter could not kill another Hunter. Nor could a Guardian accidentally take him out. It would have to be a Vampire.
It was difficult for Christian to imagine a Vampire powerful enough to end Peter Henry, particularly if he were on site where he could assist. He’d never let anything happen to his father. But there were times when he was separated from his dad, and while his mother was highly skilled, she wasn’t perfect. Perhaps she had a point.
He pressed those thoughts aside, deciding to continue to work on his French. There was no way in hell he would let Andre Boucher pursue Adele when it was so obvious he was a far better catch. She’d see it, too. She had to.