"A cemetery," Christov said forcefully, "And all the other nights too."
"But Christov I was hoping we could stay at a nice hotel," Pete said, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose.
"You need to go back to your roots. Your relationship with Josh is softening you up. Making you think more like a human than a vampire. No hotel for you."
"Nonsense," Henri scoffed "Maid service or not Pete is still a vampire. We can get a room with a private hot tub."
"A crypt is safer than a hotel. We're the undead! Hello! Sleeping in a coffin will be good for Pete," Christov insisted, "And being around corpses will drive home the normalcy of leaving dead bodies on the ground every night."
"I don't to have dead bodies around me to feel comfortable about killing. My hunger compels me to feel comfortable with the necessity of killing." Pete protested.
"Killing is not the only part of your cultural heritage, you, young man, are going into," Christov said wickedly, "the chamber of the dead. Where all unclean things go out of sight from the slaying sun. There Michael can't accuse me of not teaching you anything. I'll make a boogie man out of you yet."
"As if killing people doesn't make me enough of boogie man," Pete groaned.
"Any dumb ass mortal can kill some other dumb ass mortal It takes a coffin into make a boogie man," Christov insisted.
"Louis and Daniel never make Josh sleep in a coffin, Pete cried.
"Did ever occur to you your dead? Pete for all practical purposes your in an animated corpse. Josh is a living creature with the first of all vampires, Anton's, blood in him. Josh may be immortal but he's not undead like you. Pete you may want to keep this in mind. Yes, Josh is compelled to drink human blood. He needs human blood to digest food and drink He's more immortal than you. After all the sun can't kill Josh. The only known way to kill a sun walker is direct flames, and cutting off the head. And that only applies to very young sun walkers. Josh doesn't belong in a coffin. You do. Don't ever forget what you are. Forgetting will cause you to be careless.
"I understand," Pete mumbled, feeling crushed.
No, you don't Christov thought to himself, Mincemeats like you and Henri never understand when someone tried to protect you from getting hurt.
"Listen Pete," Christov cried, exasperated "Do you have any money on you?"
"No," Pete said confused.
"Henri do you have a credit card on you?' Christov said
"Non, mon ami, I didn't plan for this trip," Henri said humbled.
"Pete, should we steal a hotel room?" Christov challenged him "Take over some poor hotel manager's mind, and force him to do our bidding?"
"No, a coffin is fine," Pete said softly, giving in.
"We're going to land soon," Andre said coming from the cock pit.
"Who is flying the plane?" Henri worried.
"It's on autopilot. I'm rooming at the usual suite at the Hilton, I can arrange to get you a suite."
"That's very kind of you cousin," Henri said.
"Considering how unkind I have been to you in the past it is the least I can do," Andre said a taint of wickedness in his overly large eyes, "I've surprisingly enough made peace with my friend and enemies. So much so I can find I can afford to be polite even to a rogue like you."
"It's hard to distinguish between the two," Henri said, "friends and enemies." Andre once had the reputation of killing weaker vampires. He reformed his life when Michael inflected a code of honor amongst all the covens and rogue, covenless rogue vampires; thy shalt not kill, rape, main, or enslave another vampire. Through the sheer power of the blood he was born into the darkness with, and the blood of many ancients Michael kept his creation, Vampire Nation in check.
"Yes, it always has been Andre" Henri said blandly, "No one stays a friend. enemy, or lover forever in our dark world."
"Negates the importance of whatever anyone means to you at the moment," Christov said, looking pointed at Henry then at Pete,. "Eternal life tends to negate everything."
"Were does the years go?" Andre said thinking upon his murderous past.
"Dust," Christov said carelessly.
"Yes," Andre said simply.
You can't allow yourself cousin to dwell on the past, Henri wanted to venture to say. At least he wanted to say it for Pete's sake, Andre was beyond words of sympathy or advice, Not even cold fury or revenge for having been born into darkness seemed to motivate Andre. Once he bashed and murdered many of his kindred, sparing only those who could out fight him, or those he fell in love with, not in lust with. Being forced into Andre's bed, or seducing Andre into one's bed seldom insured a stay of execution if you were merely beautiful, but weak. Henri hoped at least curiosity would be enough to keep Andre going. Much as Michael tried to keep the old ways of murder and rapine subdued, vampires were blood craving beasts after all if only to appease the pain they felt when hit with hunger and the lonely to survive in secret. Some managed their killing urges well, keeping their kills to food. Other's killing lust spilled over onto the blood of their own kind. Then Michael with the help of two ancient twins killed the evil doers amongst their nation.
"We're going to be staying at Graceland Cemetery," Christov enthused, "Henri you'll love it there, The history is amazing,"
"So are hot tubs, Pete mumbled under his breath.
"I heard that young man," Christov cried.
Andre went back to the plane and landed it.
"Come on let's leave before Andre tries to interfere with us," Christov said.
Kicking the plane's door open, Christov ushered the two out, hurrying them to Graceland Cemetery.
"Do we have to come to this cemetery," Pete said as they marched rapidly through the crypts and tombstones.
"The funeral art work is exquisite here," Henri said patiently.
"But it's so bumming,' Pete moped..
Sitting on top of a huge tombstone, Christov gestured to the two to down with him. The three sat with their legs dangling down the black, ancient granite stone.
"Look at that old boy," Henri said gesturing to a stature of a tall figure of a man in robes. The robes black color was worn away exposing the green weathered material underneath, The figure's face alone was a total grim black "They call him, "Eternal Silence," Henri said.
Pete's stomach tightened at the specter like statue holding its domineering rule over the ancient and modern graves.
"Neither of you are eternally silent," Christov grumbled wishing for a peaceful moment, Sometimes when he wished for silence, he noticed Henri had a bad habit of finding something to say.
Jumping off the tombstone, Henri made his way to a statue of a little girl, her marble face was sincere and perfect in its childish composure. Little ribbons was in her long white hair. Ruffles were perfectly carved into her early nineteenth century dress. Toys and flowers were on top of the grave laid on the grass before her small feet. Her marble body was enclosed in a glass coffin.
"A brother of Dickens' buried here." Henri said.
tbc