Chapter 202
His mind was all over the place as he made the trip home. Lighting up a cigarette, he blew out a puff of smoke and let his mind wander. The nicotine did nothing to him, but he found it relaxing to go through the motions, as if a cigarette could affect him the same way it did a human.
He couldn’t help but think of Brandy. She entered his mind several times a day, still, after all of these years. Since her death, he’d searched high and low for another woman that made him feel half of what she’d sparked in him, but there was no one. He’d dated woman after woman only to determine, usually after a first date or a roll in the hay, that she wasn’t for him.
Despite all of that, he still found it quite trying to attempt to talk to women. Most of the ones he went out with, he approached at saloons after he’d had a few drinks. Alcohol did nothing to him, but it made him feel better. It did help if the woman was drunk. Often, he’d say something awkward and ridiculous, such as a comment about her anatomy. Depending upon her level of intoxication, the woman was liable to either slap him or take him up on his proposition. Rarely did anything outside of those two choices happen.
Since that approach to speaking to women didn’t work for those he worked with, he often found himself tongue tied around his female coworkers. He tried to avoid them when possible. The idea of a device that could record them, sort of like a camera, but with moving pictures, was a puzzle he was still working on. He knew of a Frenchman, Louis Le Prince, who was working on such a device, and the idea excited him. Perhaps someday he’d be able to record himself with women and then play it back so that he could see what he’d done right and what he needed to work on.
Seeing the home he shared with his mother just up the street, he finished up his cigarette and then stamped it out. She hated that he smoked and wished he’d never taken up the “disgusting habit.” He’d mentioned that she didn’t seem to mind Father’s pipe, but she said that was different, and it wasn’t as if she could tell Peter what to do. Christian had reminded her that he was a grown man and should also be allowed to do what he liked in his own home, but she insisted that she was still his mother, and he would obey her. So… the cigarettes stayed outside. She still complained that his clothing smelled like smoke, but that didn’t deter him from lighting up several times a day, so long as he wasn’t in the lab and around flammable liquids.
He climbed the front steps quickly, ready to be done with his day. There was no hunt scheduled for that night, so as long as nothing came up, Samuel wouldn’t be bothering him. He could sit in his chair, listen to the radio, and read a book. He had a new one about air density he was looking forward to digging into.
Elizabeth was in the kitchen, the scent of stew filling the home. Neither of them ate much, but his mother still enjoyed working in the kitchen and often took most of whatever she made to a neighbor with several children. “Good evening, dear,” she called as he came in to get a drink of water and kiss her on the cheek. “How was your day?”
“Busy, but satisfying,” he replied, as he usually did. “How was yours?”
“Uneventful.” It was also her usual response. Most of the time, she puttered around the house all day. Sometimes, she’d join them on a hunt but not often. She would go to the market when she got bored, listening for any gossip that might help with a hunt, but for the most part she was retired from the business. Now that Abigail had passed, as well as her children, and her children’s children, Elizabeth didn’t see much of her family. She looked like she was in her late forties at most, so it was difficult to explain who she was to new family members, even though it was perfectly fine for anyone related to her to know. It was often best to just keep it quiet and keep one’s distance from those offspring related further down the line than great-grandchildren.
“Are you going out tonight?” she asked as he took a sip of water and tried to decide whether or not he’d like an apple. He knew it would taste odd after the cigarette, and it was more a case of boredom than hunger.
“Nothing scheduled,” Christian replied. He noticed her expression then. She looked odd, like something was bothering her. Deciding she’d tell him if she wanted to, he started to walk out of the room without asking what was the matter.
She called after him just before he exited the kitchen, “Christian… I think I’d like to leave.”
He stopped in the doorway, turning slowly so as not to splash the glass of water all over her newly cleaned floor. He knew it was freshly mopped because she cleaned the entire house every day, not because he was especially observant. He certainly hadn’t seen this coming. “What’s that now?”
“I said, I think I should like to go--to Roatan.”
His mouth agape, he stared at her for a long while, trying to puzzle through why he hadn’t known she was contemplating this. “Wh--why? Don’t you like it here? You’ve lived here most of your life.”
“I did like it here.” Elizabeth wiped her hands on the apron around her waist and turned to look at him. “It’s just… it keeps changing. There really isn’t much here for me anymore, except for you, and while that’s certainly enough, I have some friends who’ve gone down there, Thomas, and a few others. I think… I might like it there. And if I don’t, well, there are ways in Roatan to leave all your troubles behind.”
He knew what she was getting at. She wanted to see if the island life was right for her, but if it turned out she couldn’t be happy there either, she’d find a way to end it all. “Mother… I don’t know what to say.”
“There really isn’t anything for you to say, dear. I just thought you should know. Times are changing quickly. Your experiments are going well. I bet it won’t be too long before you’re called to Kansas City to live.”
Christian had to force himself not to roll his eyes at that comment. “It’s been almost forty years since Jordan mentioned that. Headquarters is built. He was merely… pacifying me.”
“I don’t believe that’s the case,” she said with a shrug. “Time moves more slowly for us in many ways. We feel every second of every day, but really, in the big scheme of things, believe me, forty years is nothing.”
She didn’t have to tell him. He would be embarking on the third century of his life soon enough.
There was no sense in asking her if she was sure. He could see in her eyes that she’d already made up her mind. Rather than ask her to reconsider, he asked, “When will you leave?”
Elizabeth cleared her throat. “There’s a ship setting sail out of New York a week from Saturday. Dr. Morrow has arranged it. There are thirty-two of us coming from all over the eastern region of the country.”
“You certainly have put a lot of thought into this, then, haven’t you?” He turned to face her, running his free hand along the outside of the glass, wishing he could think of something brilliant to say to make her stay, but he couldn’t.
“I’ve been thinking about it for years, but I only first reached out to Levi about six months ago.”
It was interesting that she was calling the scientist by his first name. “Well, then, what can I do to help you prepare?”
She smiled at him and closed the distance between him, wrapping her arms around him. “Understand,” she said, and then kissed his cheek.
“I do,” he insisted, finding a smile for her. He hadn’t told her much of anything at all about Brandy, and Jess had died a few years ago, taking his secret of the Blue Moon Portal with him. She certainly had no idea her son wouldn’t be able to join her in the great beyond, not if Alexander Hamilton’s experience was true for him as well, which he had to assume it was. He’d heard rumors that Hamilton, who also lived in Roatan now, had tried several methods to kill himself to no avail. His mother wouldn’t hear from him that he was incapable of dying, particularly if the rumors about the monster in the mountains of Wallachia proved to be true. While he was fairly certain that wasn’t his doing, if that creature had come through because of Hamilton, then he must have his own beast out there somewhere. Every time he heard tell of a Vampire with particularly strong powers, he wondered if the deaths the monster caused should be on his hands.
His mother patted his cheeks and then turned back to her stew. Christian headed into the parlor and his favorite chair, content to read his book and not dwell on the fact that he was about to be left all alone again.
