Aurelie: On the Road

By Christine Duts

From the catacombs of Rome to the beautiful city of Paris, and the abundant jungle by Veracruz and lush forests of Cuernavaca, to the bustling streets of London... This second installment of Aurélie’s memoirs takes us on a breathtaking journey across the globe to fulfill Penelope ́s mission: destroy Giada.

After meeting Lucan on her path, an unexpected ally from his past provides Aurélie with some welcome help on her quest. Seraphin has survived and transformed into an immortal, unique in his kind: carrying friend and foe’s blood inside his undying body. With both men on her side Aurélie finds herself engulfed in a twisted love triangle, one that only becomes more complex when they are faced by their most feared adversaries: the werewolves.

As the story unfolds, Aurélie finds her plans could be compromised when she learns that there is more to Giada than meets the eye, changing the face of the mortal and immortal world forever. This quest for revenge soon becomes a trail of eye-opening discoveries about those she thought she could trust and those she thought were her enemies.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Christine Duts
• Release date: Jan 5, 2019
• ISBN: 9780463213827

Christine Duts

I was born in Germany, my father being an officer in the Belgian Armed Forces stationed in Germany. I grew up as a Belgian, and later went to London and then Los Cabos, Mexico, where I eventually settled. I am a teacher of World History and Literature at a private high school. Although I love teaching and my students, my passion is writing. I have been writing since the age of six, and I still have the very first story I ever wrote, packed in a tattered suitcase; I have lost the key, and I will have to cut it open to get that story.I often find inspirations while walking on the beach or sitting on the sand and staring at the waves, and I find that dreams can inspire me too. My goal is to live off my writing, because it is who I am; if I do not write, something is missing in my life.I also rescue and foster animals; and I volunteer for Baja SAFE, an animal rescue organisation. Naturally, I often have a variety of rescue animals in my house. My dream is to run an animal sanctuary from my land in Los Cabos, and that my writing can support such a dream.

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Aurélie: On the Road

CHRISTINE DUTS

Text copyright © Christine Duts 2014

Design copyright © Alexandra Paise 2014

All rights reserved.

Christine Duts has asserted her right under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988 to be identified as the author of this work.

This book is a work of fiction. Names and characters are the product of the author’s imagination and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

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First published 2014

By Rowanvale Books Ltd

57, Brynllwchwr Road,

Loughor,

Swansea

SA4 6SQ

2nd Edition Published 2017

By Christine Duts

Final Edition Published 2021

By Christine Duts

Table of Content

Chapter 1: Penelope’s Story

Chapter 2: Rue Parnasse

Chapter 3: Looking for a Trail

Chapter 4: The Vampire Who Spoke to Werewolves

Chapter 5: Back to Knightsbridge

Chapter 6: Ally and Enemy

Chapter 7: New Horizons

Chapter 8: Hunter Becomes Hunted

Chapter 9: New Blood

Chapter 10: Kokayi’s Fate

Chapter 11: Re-encounters in Havana

Chapter 12: Seraphin’s Story

Chapter 13: The Journey to Mexico

Chapter 14: On Giada’s Trail

Chapter 15: The Town of Eternal Spring

Chapter 16: The Circle Breaks

Chapter 17: The Tunnel

Chapter 18: The Ambush

Chapter 19: The Legend of the Lycans

Chapter 20: Into the Light

Chapter 21: Achilles’ Heel

Chapter 22: In the Monsters’ Den

CHAPTER I: Penelope’s Story

The stalactites in the catacombs of Rome had awoken wonder and admiration in me for as long as I could remember. Majestically, they hung from the ceiling of the underground cave, my vision lending them amazing pink, blue, and green colors. They looked as if light had spilled upon them in the dark, moist tunnels I was moving through.

The stalagmites met them halfway, growing desperately to unite with their hanging brothers and sisters – like Earth trying to reach the sun. It seemed to be a world full of magic, a perfect hideout, and yet, a place that would be more suitable for housing elves and fairies instead of the monsters that dwelt deep below. The magnificence that nature displayed – even underground – had always mesmerized me. It was too spectacular to describe in words. Nature’s beauty not only graced the landscapes that were visible to the naked eye but went far below the earth’s crust. To me, it served to remind me of the bond I shared with my surroundings: immortality that was hard to destroy.

Nature was truly much more enduring than the humans who did their utmost to demonstrate their parasitic dominance, but – like us – nature was deadly and dangerous once it became angry. No human could outrun natural disasters. No human could survive underwater for more than a few minutes. Men were weak, pathetically so. Now that I walked through these wondrously illuminated underground tunnels, human helplessness became so clear to me. Their arrogance was a mockery; their petty attempts at destruction would only turn against themselves.

Like any immortal entity, nature would outlive mankind. This scarred and hurt planet would survive the abuse rendered by men. In time, its scars would fade and the pain would be hidden deep in its subconscious, where its mind could hardly wander. Where would Penelope, Lucan, Balthazar, and I be when that happened?

In silence, I followed Balthazar through the underground tunnels, unable to grasp everything that had happened to me. I was a vampire. I had been for thirteen years, which was little more than a long decade for a human, but only a second in the life of an immortal. Still, so much had happened in those thirteen years.

I had learned to love Lucan, the proud and prudent Roman who had made me. I had met Seraphin, my mortal passion, who had taught me what it meant to love and let go. I had come face-to-face with my nemesis, Giada, who was intent on destroying me, and who had nearly succeeded in that endeavor. I had also borne witness to the senseless death of someone I had barely known, but who had become a good friend in the short time that we were given together: the beautiful Gaelic warrior Gael, one of the elders, Penelope’s faithful companion, and Balthazar’s good friend.

Now, it was 1806, and Balthazar and I had entered the catacombs of Rome to return to Penelope, the elder, the fount of us all. If she died, every vampire around the world would perish with her. She had to be safe and protected at all times. That was why she lived in the catacombs, far below Rome, beneath an underground lake that nobody knew existed except us.

Lucan was there, I was sure of it. My maker, Lucan was born in ancient Rome on the same day that Marcus Aurelius, Rome’s last good emperor, had been born. Lucan had witnessed Rome’s decline after the death of Marcus Aurelius, just before he had been made a vampire. It was Penelope who had turned him into an immortal, creating an unbreakable bond. If she was near, he would feel her presence; if he was hurt, she would feel his pain. It was a bond that none of us could ever break.

Lucan had saved me from destruction and taught me a lot. He had loved me unconditionally, and at the same time, he had expelled me from his life when I had made the simple mistake of saying something I shouldn’t have. Lucan was proud, and yet I couldn’t have wished for a better mentor. I knew I had never appreciated him enough, and now that I was about to see him again, I would make sure to let him know.

He had been burnt badly by humans, and he was now recovering under Penelope’s care here in the catacombs. Lucan had never trusted humans, and he had only made exceptions for the human friends I had made when I was living in Cologne; yet, it was in Cologne where his house had burnt down, with him inside. I needed to know what had happened, and who was responsible. I hoped it hadn’t been any of my friends, because if they were responsible, I would have to go after them. Friend or foe, no one could hurt my maker.

This way, Aurélie.

Balthazar’s broad back moved through the dark tunnel, and I followed him into a wide-open underground space. Once there, we stood still in front of an enormous black lake that appeared to be endless.

It would not surprise me if any unearthly beings inhabited this dark, brooding lake, but it was my third time there, and, like the times before, I saw nothing unusual, no movement in the water, nothing. It was just water, blackened by the heavy darkness of the cave, immobile as it had been for centuries, perhaps even millennia. And yet, the still waters seemed so pure and clean.

As usual, Balthazar called Penelope’s name. Immediately, a lift rose out of the middle of the lake. He took my hand, and we both lept graciously over the murky lake as if distance were nothing. We landed in the lift without a drop of water on either of us. The glass door closed, and the lift shook violently before it slowly descended into the blackness of the mysterious lake.

Penelope was an amazing vision. She was a tall, thin woman, her skin translucent, most of her red and blue veins visible beneath the surface. The pupils of her eyes had merged with their white backgrounds, and now they seemed like two white orbs. It looked as if she was blind, but she could see perfectly well. She stood there, looking at us expectantly. The long stalactites hung behind her from the high, natural ceiling, making her white orbs seem even eerier. Her fingers were long and skeletal. To any human, she would have been a frightening vision to behold, but I thought she was grand and impressive.

Penelope wore a long white robe with a silver belt. I remembered when we had first met, she had worn the same belt over a Roman tunic. Her long, wispy white hair hung loosely over her back and shoulders, easily reaching her buttocks.

There was no need to tell her that Gael was dead. I could see in her eyes how much she had already wept over the loss of her dear friend. Wordlessly, she hugged both of us. Her body was rigid and hardened by the millennia it had endured.

Where was Lucan? I knew she could read my thoughts, but she didn’t answer me. When she let go of us, we stood there in silence, looking at each other.

I know he was your favorite, Balthazar thought. It was the first time I had ever been able to penetrate his mind, which probably meant he had allowed it to happen.

That is not true, Balthazar, Penelope spoke. I love both of you. I always have.

Did I sense the envy towards a dead man in Balthazar?

No, he turned to me, answering my unspoken question. I just think it is hard to lose one’s favorite.

Penelope turned and walked to a door on our right. We followed her. Somehow I hoped to find Lucan there, although I knew by now that I was wrong: Lucan was gone. I couldn’t sense his presence. He had left the catacombs long before our arrival.

When we were in the adjacent living room, which was much more comfortable than the main hall with the lofty ceiling, Penelope sank into a soft, moth-eaten sofa and looked at me directly.

Yes, he is gone, she said. He left some time ago. He told me he wanted to go to Paris because you needed his help.

How had he known? Our bond was strong, perhaps even stronger than I had thought. When I had gone to Seraphin´s house to finally turn him, Giada’s companion – a vampire who had the rare ability to command werewolves – attacked me, right after I had drunk Seraphin’s blood. Enraged by the intrusion, I fought her. We battled hard and even went through the ceiling. When I finally killed my opponent, I immediately returned downstairs to finish what I had started, but Seraphin was gone. Someone had taken him. And now it turned out that Lucan had known that I was in trouble. He had never arrived.

I wondered if Lucan remembered Seraphin at all. He had only met him once. Perhaps he never came to my aid because of Seraphin… Perhaps he…

No, Lucan would never abandon me. I knew that. He was honorable, very much so. But how had he known I needed his help, and why had he never reached me in Paris?

I gather you never met, she said.

No... I sadly replied.

Balthazar took a seat on an old, tattered ottoman, and I sat down beside him.

We need to focus on the important things now, Penelope said. We have got to get rid of this pestilence, this… she made a disgusted face when she was about to say her name, and then decided against saying it entirely. She should never have been made a vampire.

Giada… gorgeous, stunning, clever, malicious, and slightly disturbed.

I agree, Balthazar said.

She has lived too long, killed too many of us, and caused too much chaos. If Flavius were alive, I think he would agree with me that she has to be destroyed.

Balthazar had turned Flavius into a young Roman vampire, who then fell in love with the mortal Giada in the seventeenth century. At the time, it was not hard to see why: she was an uncommonly stunning woman, made of dark eyes and black, wavy hair. Enamored, Flavius turned her into a vampire, unleashing a true killing machine that eventually murdered her maker. Later, Giada killed Lucan’s wife; centuries after that, she murdered his second female companion. Most recently she had come after and nearly killed me. I managed to survive her attack, although as a result, I had to endure a long and painful recovery.

Giada was focused on destruction, on unleashing the monster we all were, but which she could not control in herself. She would do anything to achieve the objectives she had in mind; she would kill, even commit a massacre for it. Perhaps she simply enjoyed causing havoc and pain, or perhaps she wanted to enact some form of revenge. Whatever it was, it had to be some sick, psychotic obsession of hers. I thought it rather inexplicable, and I knew that there had to be more to the story. I hoped Penelope could enlighten us… or perhaps Balthazar, who, after all, had shared the maker-fledgling bond with Flavius.

Last but not least, Giada had also captured the man who had shaken my world while making me feel human again, lose my cautions, and fall hopelessly in love. Seraphin was a man who was willing to do anything to be with me. He was the love I was never allowed to have, and the love that, in all likelihood, had been killed by Giada by now.

I knew that, although her actions made her appear to be unstable and unpredictable, she was a smart, calculating vampire who planned every move she made. Giada made sure to always be one step ahead of us.

Lucan had hunted her for over a hundred years, and – although he had gotten close several times – he had never caught her. It was apparent to all of us that she had many unforeseen advantages, even if she hadn’t discovered all her vampiric powers yet.

The world will be a better place without her, I said. I will gladly volunteer to hunt her down and destroy her.

That is why Balthazar brought you here, Penelope said.

He nodded.

She has invaded my life far too often, and caused too much damage, I confessed.

I know, Penelope said. She leaned backward and continued, I don’t know where Lucan is right now. He told me he was going to Paris, but since you didn’t meet with him, who knows where he is. He is still intent on finding Giada and destroying her, and as I can see, so are you. After losing Gael, I cannot expose Balthazar to danger anymore, even though he is an excellent tracker. So, he will be staying here with me.

Balthazar nodded. He had already known that he would not be leaving the catacombs anytime soon and accepted his new assignment with resolve.

She has a friend, a vampire who commands werewolves, he mentioned.

Somehow, Penelope already knew this. Still, she looked worried. I wondered how she had known. Was there anything she didn’t know? The elders had unspeakable powers and could kill with their minds, but they feared werewolves since those beasts of darkness were the only ones who could destroy them. One of them had already murdered Gael.

She had a friend, I corrected him. I killed him.

But she may still have contact with those werewolves, Penelope said. Do not underestimate her.

Trust me. I have learned not to, I said, which was true. I had learned the hard way.

There were three of them. Only one survived, Balthazar said.

And he knows more. They all live in coves, huddled together, Penelope warned.

Werewolves. The ancient Greeks had even given them the name lycanthropes or ‘wolf men’. The lycans had existed for millennia, like we had, spreading their pestilential curse everywhere.

Do you think she is still going to use the werewolves? I asked. How will she contact them? As far as I understand, vampires and werewolves are enemies, and the one vampire they trusted is dead. Why would they listen to her?

Penelope made an impatient movement with her head and said, You know how she winds males around her fingers – not only human victims but also immortals. Even Lucan once fell for her, and he is the most precautious vampire I know! She knows how to make them listen, in the same way a temptress makes any man listen to her. Giada knows man’s weakness, and werewolves are, after all, mere men for most of the month. I inspire fear in my adversaries; she, however, inspires lust which is a powerful tool to control a man, a werewolf, or even a vampire for that matter.

I understood and had to agree. Giada was indeed how Penelope had described her, the sultry temptress most men swooned over and who made them walk willingly into her killing embrace.

What are you saying? Balthazar asked. If she needs to have werewolves around her, do you think she is planning some kind of war between vampires and werewolves?

No, she won’t let it come that far, but she may surround herself with those pathetic critters for her protection. If you find them, you will most likely encounter her. She knows that Aurélie and Lucan will come after her. Lucan has hunted her for a long time, and sooner or later he is going to catch up with her. Furthermore, Giada has hurt Aurélie so much, that even she has to understand that she cannot get away with it all. She knows that Aurélie has new powers that she doesn’t have; that fact scares her. I am sure that she has left France, and is probably hiding far away with those werewolves around her.

Why wouldn’t those werewolves turn on her? I asked.

I just told you: they’re men, and she knows how to work them. She is quite good at that, Penelope said impatiently.

Nevertheless, werewolves were still werewolves, and during the full moon, they were uncontrollable. They were rumored to even kill their loved ones, unable to distinguish between them and a stranger, the smell of meat and blood too strong to make them see reason. So, the question still nagged at me: how on earth did she do it? If they did not turn on her, they had to have a very good reason, some kind of incentive.

You speak as if you know her, I said, concealing my thoughts.

Penelope shook her head slowly.

I don’t, but I have learned enough from the minds of Flavius and Lucan, and also Balthazar.

There are too many unanswered questions, I said. When I met her, she took me to her lair, and she came with me to free my father from prison. She accompanied me to drink blood, as she could not have cared about my father, but why did she let me live? I was a fledgling who had been made the night before. She could have dispatched me so easily… yet, she did not do it. Why?

I spoke to Penelope, counting on the fact that she knew about those days, assuming she was somehow informed. I could see that I was right; she was aware of my first days as a vampire. Had Lucan told her or had she taken the images from his mind? Who but Penelope could tell? She made it her business to learn everything, regardless of anyone’s privacy. Now, however, I did not complain. It saved me quite a bit of explaining.

I have thought about this myself, and the only answer I can come up with is that she felt she could not do it yet, Penelope answered.

Perhaps she was curious, Balthazar offered. When she met Althea, she did not kill her immediately. I understand she killed her on their second meeting. It was the same with the other female vampire Lucan had made. I think she likes to get to know her prey before striking. It could be anything. I gather you went to a heavily populated prison; killing you there openly would have called for too much attention. Giada may be mad, but she is not stupid. She did not need witnesses. I also understand that the prisoners somehow suspected what you were, and that was something Giada did not want. So, yes, she must have been furious – furious at her failure to kill you that night, or furious at the exposure you had given her… one of the two.

You seem to know her well, I commented.

He shrugged, and said, When Flavius was alive, he often spoke to me about her. He was smitten. I met her several times and got to know her. She always respected me for being an elder; whenever I was nearby she was calm and behaved quite well. But I knew what she did when I was not around – her thoughts told me plenty. Flavius regretted having turned her. He knew she was a threat to us. She does not differentiate between killing a human or a vampire. Vampires sometimes kill each other over territorial disputes, but they never kill their maker. That is an unwritten crime. Flavius once confided in me that he suspected she was up to something. A few days later, he was dead.

We needed Balthazar to go after Giada. He was the only one who knew her, and Penelope knew it.

She had followed my line of thinking, and shaking her head, said, Do not even think about it. He is staying.

With him, we could track her faster. She fears him, I insisted.

She fears Lucan too.

Her voice was firm and her white eyes bore into me, making it clear she would not tolerate any more arguments.

It was a pity. I felt we would only waste precious time if Balthazar did not come with us, but I understood that she wanted to protect him. Werewolves were now in the game too; after losing Gael to them, Penelope’s protectiveness of her second companion was understandable. Lucan and I were expendable to her, but not Balthazar.

On the other hand, I wondered if there was a hidden purpose. The idea would not leave my mind. If Balthazar were to stay behind, then Giada, perhaps, was not such a priority to Penelope. Perhaps there was something else, something she was keeping from us. That was why I was nearly sure that there had to be an ulterior motive, one that Penelope either did not know or was not telling us. I couldn’t help thinking that there had to be a greater design in Giada’s plans with the werewolves. It was true that she feared Lucan, and she must have been aware that I would kill her the next time we would meet, but even those two facts together could not have inspired so much fear in her to drive her to team up with werewolves. If those powerful beings were involved there had to be