“Two.” A smile that creased his cheeks. “Amelie arrived in time with a thunderclap one rainy day, Jöelle a year or so later in the midnight hours, both squalling and red-faced and tiny.” Having reached the fringe of the Vampire Quarter, he drove around to the small lot behind a blood café, after first unlocking the gate by pressing in a code on the keypad at the entrance.
He parked, switched off the engine, then turned toward her, one arm braced on the steering wheel. “My father died in a logging accident when Amelie and Jöelle were only two and three, so it was just the four of us until my mother married again seven years later.”
Meaning he’d effectively become the head of his household for those seven years. “How old were you when you began working?”
“The dates weren’t so well kept then—you understand, sugar? But I was old enough. Seven or eight.”
“So young?”
“It was nothing unusual, not then.” A shrug. “The man I worked for, he used to hit me if I didn’t move fast enough; he’d kick me at least once a day. I have never forgotten the feeling of helplessness I experienced as a small boy trapped in a position of no power against a bigger, stronger opponent.”
Blood hot and hands fisted, Ashwini had to remind herself that he hadn’t been that small, helpless boy for a long time.
“You’d think I learned my lesson,” he continued, “but we both know I later made the decision to enter into another situation where I did not hold power, out of what I then thought was love.” He smiled, as if at the foolishness of it. “I was so green, so inexperienced in the ways of the world, and Shamiya was sensual, beautiful—and she told me incredible tales of lands far beyond the bayou.”
A shake of his head. “It was a deadly combination when it came to the restless young man I was then, the hunger for adventure a craving in my soul, especially when she said such sweet words to me. I did not understand that I was in the throes of infatuation, and that she was merely playing.”
Ashwini could see it, see the young male he’d been, hungry to experience life and to prove himself. “Did she help you become a Candidate?” A person couldn’t simply ask to be a vampire; he or she had to be chosen.
“Yes. She took me to Neha’s court, where she was a favorite.” He laughed. “I have never been so sick as I was on that voyage. The waters of the bayou never crashed and rolled as that ocean did, as if attempting to throw an insect off its back.”
The idea of the long journey, the things he must’ve seen, made a thousand questions form on her tongue, but she was even more fascinated by this deeper glimpse into his path to vampirism. “Shamiya must’ve felt something for you to go to all that trouble,” she said, unable to imagine how any woman could be so careless as to throw away the loyalty of a man like Janvier. “Even as a favorite, she still had to petition Neha.” And the Queen of Poisons was an archangel, as ruthless and as deadly as Raphael.
“She felt what a child does with a new toy.” He spoke the words without rancor. “I was different enough in my lack of sophistication that I was new and shiny and amusing for a period. I, on the other hand, believed myself in the grip of a grand passion”—laughing at himself, eyes dancing—“and so like a fool, I gave up gumbo for blood.” There was no recrimination in his gaze, nothing but an affectionate humor directed at the young man he’d once been.
Ashwini had asked him once if he loved Shamiya still. His answer had resonated deeply with her.
A silly question, cher. You know love cannot survive where there is no light.
Tonight, she saw that he’d not only moved on lifetimes ago, he bore no grudge. “Have you ever seen her again?” she asked, curious. “Shamiya, I mean.”
“Oui, many times. She is as feckless and as fickle as she always was, while I am no longer green and impressionable. I outgrew her at the infancy of my Contract.” His eyes locking with hers. “But before I grew into this man I am today, I was that boy at the mercy of a brute, and that unsophisticated young man abandoned in the court of the Queen of Poisons. I am no stranger to being under the control of others.”
Ashwini knew that like the small boy, that idealistic young man was long gone. Janvier had survived both his childhood and the betrayal of the woman who had lured him into vampirism, come out of it a strong, intelligent male who would never again allow himself to be powerless.
Except . . . that was exactly the position she’d put him in once she told him everything. And not telling him was no longer an option.
“Your sisters?” she said, choosing to focus on the good and not the dark; there’d be plenty of time for the latter. “Did you continue to support them after you became a vampire?” The answer wasn’t truly a mystery to her. She knew who he was.
“It was my task as their elder brother,” he said simply, allowing Ashwini to turn the conversation back to his family. “Though Amelie and Jöelle married young to proud men who would not take my help—and that, too, is right—for my mother I was able to do a great deal.”
“Her husband didn’t protest?”
“Oui, of course.” A laugh. “But there is a difference between a son who wishes to ease his mother’s life and an elder brother who wishes the same for his married sisters, non? My stepfather knew he stood no chance, and he was a good man, understood that I had been the head of the family long before he came on the scene. We were never father and son, but we were good friends.”
“I didn’t realize vampires could earn income early on in their Contract.” She’d always believed it was more a case of indentured servitude.
“It depends on the angel, but loyalty and a willingness to learn and work hard beyond simply fulfilling the letter of the Contract are generally rewarded.” The rhythm of his voice, it held a heavier Cajun accent now, some of his words not quite English. “For a young man from the bayou, those rewards were staggering. I was able to get my mother anything she needed, help my nieces and nephews with their educations.”
Ashwini knew they should get out, start walking to the clubs, but she wanted to know so much more, could listen to him speak forever. “Amelie and Jöelle,” she said, stealing another minute, “were their marriages happy?”
That wonderful deep cheek-creasing smile again. “My sisters grew up into strong women who ran their households with iron hands—their husbands were quite henpecked and delighted about it.” Unhidden love, his eyes warm with memory. “They created a legacy of children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren.