Fat Vampire Value Meal (Books 1-4 in the series) (28 page)

“Before we leave Paris, do we at least get to show Reginald the Eiffel Tower, with its Eye of Sauron on the top?” said Nikki.

“I’m afraid not,” said Maurice. “We’ve got a bit of a train ride yet.”

They took a cab to the train station, then boarded a train from Paris to Metz Ville, where they transferred to a second train that took them on to Luxembourg City. Maurice apologized for the multiple rides and the length of the trip, explaining that he couldn’t find a direct TGV that traveled late enough to not kill them. Reginald said he understood and supported Maurice’s decision.

Reginald thought they were done once they reached Luxembourg City, but Maurice explained that their final destination was actually a small town in the south of the country called Differdange. Then he explained that they’d missed the last train to Differdange and would need to wait until 5am to catch the first train of the day, so they walked the city while Reginald fought to stay awake. Nikki, on the other hand, was as chipper as if she were on amphetamines.
 

“It’s so cute!” she said, patting Reginald on the back. “Isn’t it cute? I love Europe. I mean, Paris last week — last week, what the hell! — was my first time here, but I loved that, but the thing about Paris is… Hey, Reginald! Talking to you. The thing about Paris is that it’s really not all that different from, like, New York, whereas this is, like,
quaint
, and…”
 

Reginald discovered that he could almost sleep while walking. The hours passed, and he found his mind wandering to a hill in Germany with a giant stone at the top… almost like an altar.

Several hours later, at precisely 5:05am, their quiet train rolled out of the Luxembourg station and they found themselves traveling past rolling countryside and isolated towns that Nikki said looked like they belonged on a Christmas card. Each time the train stopped, somnolent passengers embarked and disembarked, nobody speaking, many listening to headphones, most heads down, agreeing collectively not to break the spell of silence. To pass the time, Reginald watched foreign names pass the windows at each stop.
 

Berchem. Bettembourg. Noertzange.

Forty minutes later, at exactly 5:46, the train pulled onto an elevated platform above an old-world-looking town bearing a placard that read DIFFERDANGE. They stepped off, descended a flight of stairs, walked under the tracks, and emerged into a twilit world like none Reginald had ever seen before.
 

“Plenty of time to spare,” said Maurice, looking at the eastern sky, which was beginning to lighten slightly.
 

“I don’t like cutting it this close,” said Nikki. “Can you imagine how embarrassing it would be for me if you two started burning to ash in the middle of a train? Worse than being caught with toilet paper stuck to my shoe.”
 

Maurice just shook his head and laughed. “European trains, Nikki. You can literally set your watch by them. I told you it’d be fine.”
 

As Maurice led them down the dark street, Reginald took it all in. The streets were narrow. The buildings looked old, but not run down. It would be more accurate to say they had an old
style
, perhaps, and were somehow foreign in a way Reginald couldn’t place. The shapes of the road signs were different. The fonts used on the signs and buildings was different. There were very few people walking around, but those who were appeared…
different
. It was hard to pinpoint; maybe something to do with their clothing. All Reginald knew was that he felt very out of place, as if he stuck out like a sore thumb.

“Why is everything in French?” said Nikki.

“Not everything,” said Reginald. “He pointed up at a street sign that announced that they were on ‘Rue J.F. Kennedy.’”
 

“That’s French” said Nikki.

“Not Kennedy,” said Reginald. “
Er ist ein Berliner
, or so they say.”
 

“They have three official languages here,” said Maurice, speaking like a tour guide. “German, French, and a local dialect called Luxembourgish. You won’t usually see Luxembourgish written. Pretty much everything is in French or German. Do either of you speak French or German?”

“No,” said Nikki.

“Yes,” said Reginald, who’d gotten bored one night and learned fifty languages because it seemed like a nice, round number.

“Most of the people speak English,” he said. “Though I might try my French back on; I haven’t gotten to use it in so long.”
 

“Where is HQ?” said Nikki.
 

Maurice chuckled. “You’ll see. This is so cool.”
 

Reginald almost laughed himself just from watching Maurice. He was giddy. There was no other word for it.

They were passing a wide spot between two buildings. It seemed to be a parking lot or a wide driveway. Maurice pointed past the concrete, to a set of stone steps that climbed a hill to what could only be described as a castle.
 

“That’s where we’re going,” he said.
 

“Looks like a castle,” said Nikki.

“It
is
a castle,” said Maurice. “But they call it a chateau. ‘Chateau de Differdange.’”
 

“Those kids are going up there,” said Nikki, nodding at a group of five people in their early twenties who had gotten off the train in front of them. They were quiet, as if the early hour had laid a spell over them. But they looked different in a different way — different enough to cancel out the negatives and return to Reginald’s version of normal.
 

“They’re Americans,” said Reginald.
 

Maurice nodded. “The Chateau is a school now. It’s actually a bona-fide campus of the University of Miami. That’s the one in Ohio, not Florida. The Miami University Something-or-Other Center, or MUDEC for short, but the kids and staff just call it ‘The Chateau.’ Run by locals, with some American teachers on exchange, and attended by American college kids, mostly from MU of Ohio, who are somewhat obnoxious in their American way when they hit the local bars, but who are more or less good kids.”

Reginald was looking at all those steps. “Do they have an elevator?” he said.
 

“Welcome to Europe,” said Maurice, slapping Reginald good-naturedly on the back. “You’d lose weight here if you were capable of it.”
 

“Maurice,” said Nikki as they walked toward the stairs. “How do you know so much about this place?”
 

“I keep good ties with the EU Council and come here as a liaison now and again. This is its permanent home and has been since around the time Logan took over in America. It was built by a friend of mine, Wilhelm, back in the 1500s. Wilhelm built a castle on top of the hill and painstakingly had catacombs dug out beneath it to house those who chose to come and stay. At the beginning, it was more like a home for traveling vampires than anything having to do with government, so its heritage means that it’s always felt more like a hostel.”
 

“The European Council doesn’t move around?” said Nikki.
 

Maurice shook his head. “They’re not as paranoid as the Americans. Being Deacon of the American Council is like being the president. Being Deacon of the EU Council is like being a small town mayor or even a school headmaster — or, as I said, the fellow who runs a hostel. It’s simply not something that vampires rip each other’s throats out to take leadership of.”

The stone steps were steep. Reginald hung tight to the railing and fought to keep his breath under control. The five kids ahead of them hadn’t noticed them or didn’t seem to care. Then all eight of them, in two groups, arrived at the top and made their way toward a door at the back of the castle.
 

“Wait… we’re going
into the school?
With
humans
?”

“Yes. Wilhelm and his people, who always had a flair for the dramatic, moved to Transylvania of all places a while back and left the Chateau to a trust managed by the Council leadership. The Council was always short on money, so they began leasing out the residential portion of the Chateau, originally to vampire dignitaries. But when Miami University came knocking, the EU’s current Deacon — a man named Karl Stromm, who you’ll meet — realized that at least MUDEC would offer a key advantage over leasing to vampires. Specifically, they’d be invested in the building and wouldn’t flit off every few months and require him to find new renters. So he figured why the hell not and did the deal.”
 

They’d reached the back door. The group of students had already vanished inside, so Maurice typed a code on a keypad to open the door. They walked into a split level area and went down a short flight of steps. Reginald could hear the group of students moving around upstairs.
 

“Isn’t it a bit early for school?” Nikki whispered.
 

“Yes. But it’s more than a school, and kids hang out on and off for a lot of the day. We’re right at the cutoff. Students mostly start showing up closer to seven and eight, and we’re required to be inside by six, which is why we haven’t seen any other vampires out here. Pretty much guaranteed, the five kids we just saw are the only kids here. They’ll stay upstairs. Come on.”
 

Maurice led them into a large finished basement with red brick walls that curved into a low overhead ceiling. Reginald found himself wanting to duck. It was like being in a giant underground wine cask. On one end was a TV and a set of couches and chairs.
 

“This is the Cave,” said Maurice.
 

“Kav?”

“
Cave
,” said Maurice, pronouncing it so it rhymed with
suave
. “But spelled C-A-V-E.”
 

“Oh,” said Reginald. “
Cave
.” Pronouncing it so it rhymed with
Dave
.

“Yes. But don’t say it so American-like, American,” said Maurice, still giddy. Reginald found himself wondering why, if Maurice so clearly missed Europe, he’d stayed in America so long.

They crowded into a corner of the Cave opposite the TV, to the side of a set of doors. Maurice snaked a finger into a hole between two bricks, then did something to another set of bricks with his other hand. He pulled, and a door swung open. The seam at the door’s edges was actually in the center of the mortar and had been totally invisible. The design was brilliant, and Reginald realized it had probably been done with tools no more sophisticated than trowels.
 

Once they were through the door and onto a landing at the top of a stone staircase, Maurice closed the door using a large handle that was mounted on the other side.
 

“This is the entrance to the catacombs,” he said. “Vampire territory. Above is human territory. Now, there are a few rules here. First rule — and I’m sure you’ve already assumed this — is that all of the humans on Chateau grounds are totally and completely off-limits. No feeding, no glamouring. Do your best to have no contact whatsoever. See those monitors?” He motioned to a pair of video screens mounted next to the door. “Always check them before you leave the catacombs. This one sees the other end of the Cave, as if you were looking through a peephole in the door. This one shows around the corner, where the kids have a bank of lockers. If you see anyone on either of the screens, don’t open the door.

“Second rule is that you can only come and go between 11pm and 6am. If it’s 6:30am and it’s winter and you’ve still got hours of darkness outside, you can’t leave. You’ve got to wait until eleven. The school’s human hours are more or less from seven or eight AM until around ten PM, so we stay down here during those times.”

Something wasn’t clicking for Reginald. He said, “But they know we’re here?”
 

“Just the director. And I know what you’re thinking, but you’ve got to understand that all of us were once human, and not all humans and vampires are bigots. To an enlightened few humans, we’re no different from another minority race or people with a disability. Most white people wouldn’t lease half of a duplex from blacks and then invade their half and kill them. It’s the same with us and a few key people on the MUDEC board. We’re their landlords, and we’re in business together. It’s been a long time since Europe was villagers with pitchforks and torches.”
 

“Do they ever come down here?” Reginald asked.
 

Maurice chuckled. “Karl and his people are open-minded, but they’re not stupid. Humans don’t have anywhere near the finger strength required to open that door, it can’t be forced with tools, and this entire section of wall is reinforced with steel. There are also several other exits from the catacombs that the humans know nothing about. It’s safe enough, Reginald. Don’t let the paranoia of the Americans sway you.”
 

They rounded a corner, and the steps became a wide stone staircase that led them along a hewn rock wall, down into a large and echoey space. Further down, the chamber became highly ornate in an old-world craftsman sort of way. The walls were made of large bricks that looked like they had carefully been laid by hand. There were columns and pillars. The ceiling arched overhead like a giant cathedral, and every twenty feet or so along the wall was a torch in a sconce. The torches were the only source of light, giving the place a dramatic feel. Even the air felt different underground.
 

It occurred to Reginald that
this
was the kind of place vampires should gather, not topside in abandoned malls, inside of a light-sealed, mobile Council building made of steel and plastics.
 

A voice came from behind them.
 

“Maurice!”

They turned and Reginald saw a man in an ornate red robe walking briskly toward them. He and Maurice embraced, and then the newcomer stepped back with Maurice held at arm’s length. He looked him over from head to toe and said, “You are looking well, my friend. It has been too long. It is good to see you again.”
 

Maurice and the man in the red robe turned to face Reginald and Nikki.