Chapter 37
Chapter Thirty-Seven
JADEON
Outside the address of the party, I changed my mind.
Bringing Alex had been a mistake, sure, but how could I deny my brother, after he had languished alone in that forsaken castle, imprisoned by silence and shadows for longer than any soul ought to bear?
I’m glad you see it that way, he silently mused and we shared a comforting smile.
“And she did invite me, too,” he threw in.
We hadn’t talked about Orpheus yet, and that conversation would no doubt bring more pain and suffering, and right now we had had our fill of that.
“How did you meet her again?” He looked amused.
“At the gallery.” I didn’t want to say more.
“Let’s go home,” I whispered, my gut telling me this was a bad idea.
Alex detected this and rang the doorbell. “What?” He avoided my glare. From the noise coming from inside the apartment, the party was in full swing.
The door opened. “Now which one’s the art collector?” James Lemont welcomed us into his luxuriously furnished home. “Ingrid’s told me all about you. She’s over there trapped in the corner by one of my other guests. I know she’ll be relieved that you’re here to save her.”
James was obviously well educated, wealthy, and traveled. His taste was somewhat eccentric, and the eclectic artwork seemed out of place in the modern bachelor residence. He made us feel welcome, and my feeling of wanting to bolt soon wore off.
Thirty or so guests mingled comfortably.
An attractive young woman approached us. “Hi guys! You must be Jadeon. Ingrid will be jazzed to know you made it. I’m Belle.”
I detected her soft Cape Town accent. “May I introduce my brother, Alex?” I said.
She laughed at me. “You may.”
“Have you eaten anything?” James said. “Food’s over there. Do make yourselves at home.” He pointed to a table strewn with assorted plates.
James returned to mingle with his other guests.
Belle brightened. “The food’s vegan. He’s going through this health kick right now. Last month, it was Macrobiotics.”
Alex and I stared at her.
“I’ll get Ingrid then.” Belle withdrew to find her.
Alex and I scanned the room. With the growing awareness of numerous admiring eyes, Alex’s self-consciousness increased. He still captivated those around him. For the first time, I saw that same admiration for me.
“You’re doing great,” I reassured him.
“Hey, you made it!” Ingrid greeted me with a kiss on my cheek.
Her subtle perfume rose up. She wore the black halter-neck dress I’d bought for her.
Having a mortal friend should have been impossible, and yet I could never bring myself to stay away from her. Sooner or later, though, I would have to find a way to set this growing affection aside—no matter how much my heart resisted.
“You look . . . beautiful,” I said.
Ingrid beamed. “Thank you, Jadeon.”
“We wouldn’t have missed your party for the world,” I said.
Alex gave a subtle smirk that only I noticed.
“Let me introduce you to one of my dearest friends,” she said.
James Lemont approached us. “We’ve already had the pleasure.”
“I first met James when he was working on a case in Salisbury,” Ingrid said. “He’s a lawyer and was defending a man I had arrested for car theft.”
“Alleged car theft, darling,” James laughed.
“He got two years,” Ingrid said.
“Paroled in six months.” James hugged Ingrid.
I studied them both to ascertain any romantic involvement. James was in love with her though Ingrid was oblivious to the fact.
“Well, we hit it off immediately,” Ingrid said, “and here I am, scoffing his delicious food. James makes the best chocolate roll.”
“Chocolate roulade.” James rolled his eyes.
“That’s what I said, chocolate roll.” Ingrid winked at me.
James shook his head, remonstrating his disapproval. “Incorrigible. So, Jadeon, tell me more about your work.”
“Well,” I began, “I am passionate about art.”
“Do you have a gallery?” James said.
“No, but I am considering opening one.” This was not far from the truth, but I had things to settle before I could.
“I have some interesting pieces that I’d love to show you,” James said. “What style of art do you prefer?”
Through the long descent of years, I had wandered among remarkable artists, adored their work, learned the secrets of their hands. But here, such truths could never be spoken.
“The old masters,” I replied. “But I’m also open to contemporary.”
“How wonderful. Have you sold any recently?”
“Yes, I sold a Joseph Turner.”
“No, seriously, have you?”
“I hated it,” Alex said.
“No bloody way!” Belle said.
James stared at us, unsure. “Are you for real?”
“Quite real,” I said.
“Jadeon currently has a painting on show at the National,” Ingrid said.
“Really?” James was impressed.
I nodded. “Raphael’s St. Catherine.”
“Super!” James responded. “I believe that email came in. I’m a member of their gallery. Quite a discovery. Where did you find it?”
“It was in my family’s collection,” I admitted.
“And you, Alex,” James said. “What do you do?”
“I just look after the castle, pretty much,” Alex replied.
“You guys are a riot.” Belle laughed.
“No, seriously, do you work?” James asked again, amused.
Alex looked at the many faces now staring at him awaiting his answer.
“My brother Alex and I are very lucky to have inherited our father’s estate in Cornwall. Alex spends a lot of time ensuring that it’s maintained in keeping with its original style,” I said.
“You really live in a castle?” Belle asked.
“It’s very cold,” Alex said.
“Wow. Ingrid, don’t your relatives come from down there?” Belle said.
Ingrid nodded, musing over which ones “Mother’s side.”
“Which castle?” Belle asked.
“Marazion,” I said.
“St. Michael’s Mount,” Alex piped up.
“I know the one,” James said. “It’s beautiful, surrounded by water.”
I smiled. “That’s the one.”
“Really?” Belle grinned at Ingrid.
With a flick of her hand and the faintest arch of a brow, Ingrid conveyed the shock of the season that she had absolutely no clue she’d just extended an invitation to not one, but two clandestine lords, owners of a centuries-old castle, no less.
And she was meant to be the investigator among them.
Silence . . .
“So let me show you one of my newest paintings, come on.” James guided us to the back of the apartment where on the far wall a modern large painting hung—the scene of a naked man and woman, their limbs entwined, their heads leaning back unnaturally.
I sensed Ingrid staring at me, trying to figure me out.
I threw her a wide smile.
“It’s by Augusta Nadam!” James announced proudly.
“Well, Jadeon,” Ingrid said. “What do you think? Now be honest.”
I recognized the work by the Portuguese artist. Augusta had displayed several of his paintings in a small gallery in SoHo and had received rave reviews.
Alex had been with me at the time, though he had spent the hour we’d been in the gallery avoiding the man.
Augusta had pursued Alex to the point of stalking.
I could not help but enjoy Alex’s wide-eyed glare as if Augusta might leap from the painting itself.
“Well?” James pushed.
I chose my words carefully. “Nadam is expressive and fresh, but . . .”
“But what?” James said.
“But from the strokes of the brush he appears distracted, unfocused. See here.” I pointed to the canvas. “And yet it works. His desire to rush ahead compliments the piece and allows us to gauge his desire to connect with us.”
“You get all that from this painting?” Belle asked.
“I kind of cheated. I’ve met the artist,” I said. “He’s a tormented man.”
“How so?” Ingrid asked.
“Augusta is a recluse,” I said. “Apart from when he’s presenting his work, he doesn’t go out.”
Alex peered at me with his intense baby blues.
“It’s a good investment, James. You’ll be happy with it,” I said.
James beamed. “And Ingrid told me it looked like a druggie had painted it.”
“She’s right, James,” I answered. “Augusta is a coke addict.”
“Bloody hell,” Belle said.
James sighed.
Ingrid patted James’s arm affectionately. “Well, I’ve rather grown fond of it. Come on Jadeon, let’s get you a drink.” Ingrid guided me toward the refreshments. “Do you really know Augusto?”
“Augusta Nadam,” I corrected her. “I only met him once.”
I sensed James studying me and turned to fend off his glare. James quickly headed to the other side of the room.
“You know, Jadeon,” Ingrid said, “I’m pretty good with figuring people out, but there’s something about you that I can’t put my finger on.”
Perhaps it’s because I am a vampire. No, that would not be funny. “I’m a southerner, so maybe . . .”
“I’m going to keep prodding until I put my finger on it,” Ingrid said.
Amused, I smiled at her. Ingrid blushed. The sound of her laughter was contagious.
“How long are you in London?” I asked.
“The course lasts a week,” she said. “But I’m off for the weekend.”
“That’s nice. You can sight see while you’re here.”
“You really live in a castle? Like, a real one?”
“We do, yes.”
“That’s incredible. I don’t even know what to ask first.”
“It’s been in the family for generations. I suppose I’m more of a caretaker than anything else.”
“Do you offer tours?”
“No, never.”
She looked disappointed. “That’s . . . magical. Is it as romantic as it sounds? Or is it mostly cold stone and creaky floors? And old relatives glaring at you from ancient portraits.”
“All of it, honestly. There’s beauty in it, but also a lot of responsibility. It’s quiet, eerie. Its history is rich with endless stories.” I made it endearing even though our past was reckless and filled with sorrows etched into its stones, like scars the centuries were unable to heal.
“It sounds like a place that holds secrets. I’d love to see it one day . . . if that’s not too bold.”
“The castle likes kind souls.”
I let my palm settle against the small of her back, and for a breath, we shared something. A look, an understanding, a quiet moment suspended between us. I didn’t want to lose it, didn’t want to let go of her warmth. But somehow, with more effort than I’d ever admit, I drew my hand away.
Music emanated from James’s piano and caught Ingrid’s attention. She realized that it was Alex who was performing the ethereal music.
Conversations ceased as other guests listened in awe. “Are you spontaneous, Ingrid?” I checked my watch.
“What do you mean?” she said.
“Do you ever do things on the spur of the moment?”
“Sure. Why?”
“How would you like to be standing in St. Michael’s Mount by morning?”
She turned to face me, her cheeks blushing brightly. “Are you . . . inviting me to your castle?”
I gave a warm smile. “I am.”