Novel Excerpt
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“Grief is in two parts. The first is loss. The second is the remaking of life.” —Anne Roiphe CHAPTER ONE: Circa Fall 1898 ​ Dinner was set for six o’clock. In a little over two hours, Thelonious “Theo” Rendger’s life would change forever. For the last three years, he’d poured his heart into his studies at the new Le Cordon Bleu School in France. He spent hours imagining the dishes he would serve to the great culinary champions whose collective opinion determined whether he was good enough to take what had long been a mere passion and turn it into a true profession. After countless nights creating fanciful menus and testing them on friends and family, the day had come to show what he was indeed made of. If all went well, Theo Rendger would earn the title he dreamed of: Master Chef. Instead of sweaty-palmed hand wringing and a sheen of anxiety-induced perspiration across his freshly shaven top lip, the young chef was preternaturally calm. He sensed something greater as the hour approached. Four hundred connoisseurs were invited, and all RSVP’d a resounding yes. Theo wasn’t the only presenter of culinary wares that evening, but he was the most anticipated. Here in 1898, his flavors were legendary—spices from far-away lands at a time when travel to such places was not for the faint of heart. The Rendger propensity for obtaining such foreign, almost mystical ingredients was a forever enigma to all those who were lucky enough to gain entry to one of Theo’s feasts. His dear friend, King Amun the Ancient, marveled at his prowess and even hinted at going into business together someday, which intrigued Theo. The young chef’s cooking style came from parts so deep inside his twenty-five-year-old mind, body, and soul even Baraza La Milele—The Council of Eternals who oversaw the lives of both Homo sapiens and all who live below the sights, sounds, and beliefs of humans—was impressed by him. The casual dining with friends and family that manifested into days-long feasts were mere practice. Tonight was everything. The second Rendger son was presenting to Le Confrérie de la Chaîne des Rôtisseurs, already one of the most legendary culinary societies in the world and an epic doorway to his future. His menu was infused with a symphony of flavors, turning the familiar on its head and reflecting his adventurous spirit. The mouthwatering aroma of warm spices hinted at the global nature of Theo’s dishes—cardamom, curry leaves, Szechuan peppercorns, sumac… The list went on. He looked around at the hive-like activity, sous chefs and kitchen assistants prepping, chopping, placing plates in the oven to warm—every moment timed to perfection. A sudden warmth filled Theo’s body, a fuse lit by knowing this was just the beginning of the path he’d set for himself, a journey he’d dreamed of for so long, he barely recalled what life was like before it. The chef watched as Lady Elyse Danger scanned the list of dishes, her profile in silent study. Where others would sweat under the legendary connoisseur’s scrutiny, Theo wore a slight grin. Not so much anticipating her response as welcoming it, he embraced it before it was shared. His ability to create amazing food was his calling, his passion, and he reveled in Elyse’s inspection. His mother, the spark behind his epicurean interests, said of his cooking, “I can taste your heart in every bite. Be careful, my love.” “Careful” was not in Theo’s vocabulary. He was a dangerous man in many ways, risking everything for his greatest love—food. When his older brother Sheffield was chosen to take on the mantle of bloodsucking vampire to carry the Rendger name through the unique world they’d inhabited for centuries, Theo rejoiced at being passed over. He celebrated with a two-day feast so lush and indulgent, three Le Cordon Bleu instructors congratulated him in their subtle, officious way. Sheff’s transformation meant Theo could follow his dream unburdened. He would someday die while his brother lived on, yes, but Theo had no doubt his culinary legacy would astound across the ages. He envisioned changing how people ate, which was worth every moment spent peeling potatoes, being yelled at by ornery chefs, and almost losing his entire beautiful face from an open cook fire. This was his moment. He felt it. With unhurried grace, Elyse shut both the menu and her eyes. She was musing. Sometimes good, sometimes bad; always revelatory. Theo watched the face that made others swoon but never him. No one had his heart, and as far as he knew, no being ever would. Food, feeding others, bringing joy to the table—they were all to him. “Extraordinary, Theo,” Elyse said, her eyes still closed. Theo nodded, pleased, and then heard, “Be careful, love.” A cold shiver raced up his back. Theo felt a strong need to straighten his shoulders against the sudden tightness but held still. Elyse’s eyes opened and peered up at him from beneath her lashes. There it was again, that damn “careful.” “You sound like my mother. What does that even mean?” Theo asked, perturbed. “Chef?” An unfamiliar voice, polite, tinged with… Sorrow? Fear? Something painful lurking beneath the surface, like a shudder. Theo turned to see Lord Chef Dominick in his whites, his face ashen. The man’s indifference was notorious, something the young chef was used to. But this? The voice calling him was at odds with what Theo came to know these last years of his culinary journey, and it took him a moment to recognize it as his teacher’s. “Yes, Chef?” Dominick left the room, indicating Theo follow. The two moved without a word, the older chef by Theo’s side. A first. If not for his deep, dark silence, Theo would have basked in it. He started to ask the legendary epicurean master what was happening but one look at the gray face and rigid jowls gave him pause. When they arrived at Dominick’s office door, Theo was hit by a terrifying thought. What if… Theo swallowed the thick fear rising in his throat, beads of panic-induced sweat forming on his forehead for the first time since he began pursuing his passion. What if the old master realized I did not have the gift of creating truly great food? What if— “My deepest condolences, Theo,” Dominick said, his hand on the doorknob to his office. “Condolences? Chef?” Theo was taken aback, the fear evaporating as he stared in confusion. Dominick shook his head, at a loss, and then opened the door to an office that was far more modest than the great teacher’s position deserved. Elyse herself always said so. Theo’s eyes widened in shock to see his youngest sister, Nicole, looking out the window in the tiny office. Her back was to him, but he’d know her even if he were blind. Her smell was warm and floral. Nicole loved gardening and had an uncanny, magical hand with the earth. He procured all the herbs and vegetables for his dishes from her. Even clothed in rich, deep robes for the harsh British winter, she shivered, her arms hugging her body as if she would never be warm again. Theo stepped inside, his legs like lead. Once Theo heard the door close behind him, and they were alone, Nicole’s usual vibrant voice now choked out in whispered sorrow, “Sheff is dead.” Theo’s brow furrowed as he tried to comprehend the three simple words. His brain couldn’t connect them to anything that made sense, and a deep ache settled behind his eyes. “Sheff? I… wait… wait…” Theo stammered, shaking his head to clear it from what Nicole had just said, mentally pushing it away. Theo’s little sister was now looking at him. The twenty-year-old’s welcoming, bright hazel eyes were dull and red from weeping, her golden-brown skin pale and chalky. Theirs was a close family, and the sight of whimsical Nicole in such agony should have sent him rushing to console her, to seek comfort for himself but… He was frozen in place, his body leaden. Theo’s heart pounded hard enough he believed she must see it through his chef’s whites. A deep, impenetrable sorrow raced through him, but there was something else—a slow-dawning horror that rendered his limbs useless. His older brother, the one tapped to join the ranks of Rendger vampires, was dead on the eve of his transformation, and here was his sister telling him rather than waiting until after his feast. The realization sent lava hot, pain shooting through Theo’s skull, pounding into his temples. “Sheff, his wife, the baby… The war in Cuba… The Spanish and the Americans… Their ship was returning and got… they are gone, lost at… sea… not even the crew or the…” Nicole clapped her hand to her mouth, squeezing her eyes shut. The tears were flowing again. “Mm, hmm,” was all Theo got out of tight lips. A Rendger had to be initiated into the eternal bloodsucking fold the following night, or none would be chosen from their family again. After spending the last two millennia proving that adding one more from their lineage was worthwhile, they could not let that slip through their fingers. All was prepared, and time was of the essence. Someone needed to step in for Sheffield. Someone old enough, someone strong enough. “We leave immediately. You must take his place, Theo. La Milele deemed it and tomorrow night is all we have to ensure another Rendger chosen for this honor.” Nicole stopped, her heart breaking for him. “Elian offered herself, but they would not allow our sister to do it.” “Uh-huh,” fell out of Theo’s mouth like wood. His eyes felt full of sand, and his vision was blurry. He turned away from Nicole, unable to face her or the depth of loss and sorrow he felt. Not for his brother. None of it for Sheffield. His skin tightened over his knuckles, and he was flushed with rage and feelings he could not handle. Yet inside his soul, his very center, a golden warmth filled Theo’s eyes with tears as he thought about his beloved older brother. The one who taught him how to find the beauty in the little things when he—the younger, more intense sibling—took them far too seriously. The person who told him of the eternals who watched over them all. The teller of the legends and myths of their world left Theo riveted and amazed. Sheffield, who convinced Theo to give in to his passion for food and… “Do something about it, Theo. Follow your heart,” Sheff said one night after one of Theo’s elaborate, out of control days-long dinner parties when he was only thirteen years-old. “Be a cook for a living?” Theo scoffed as they stood in their kitchen alone, the last two cleaning up. Sheffield shook his head, leaning his tall, lean frame against the handle of the wet mop he was using to clean the floor. “Be a chef, Thelonious. You were born for it.” Theo enrolled in his first culinary course the next day. And now? His jaw clenched as he looked down at the ground, clasping his hands to quell the itchy feeling in his palms that made him want to hit something, hurt someone, and fling every single thing in the lord chef’s office to the ground. Yes, his brother was dead. That was sad, terrible. Of course. But why did it have to be tonight? He started hyperventilating. He closed his eyes, putting his hand to his chest as he slowed his breathing, feeling a deep cold wrap itself around his heart. When Theo spoke, it was with frosty curiosity. “Why cannot Elian step in?” Nicole’s eyes widened at the question, perplexed. Her sobs still hitched in her chest. “Why…? Our sister is pregnant with her first child, Theo. You cannot enter Silvan’s world if you are expecting. You know this.” Theo nodded, his face distant and considering. Nicole took his hand in hers, feeling his pain at their shared loss. “My dearest, I am so sorry—” Again, that genuine cold curiosity as Theo’s dark eyes flashed, pinning her to the wall. “Why not you?” Stumbling from the chill coming from her brother, Nicole steadied herself by holding onto him even tighter. Theo smiled ominously, leaning into her. “Ah, yes. You are a year too young. Lucky, eh?” Nicole’s face colored, and the back of her neck flushed as she brushed the tears away. “Let us consider,” Nicole said, “that your brother, whom you love, is dead. That your mother and father, who you love and love you and love him, have lost their first child. That your sisters, who you love and love you and love him, have lost their other brother. That his wife and child, who are just as beloved, are also lost forever. That life will never be the same for any of us. Let us consider that for a moment. Shall we?” Theo’s brain roared. Are you serious? The young chef brought her closer to him, livid. Consumed with his own loss, he got in her face, spitting the words at her, full of poison. “No. Let us consider, dearest, that just as I am embarking upon the greatest moment of my life, a fulfillment of my dream, you come to tell me that, no. I will not be doing that. That I will never know if I was good enough. Because you are taking me to become someone who will never know the taste of great food again for as long as I live, which will be longer than anyone can imagine. You are right. Life will never be the same. That, I will consider, little girl. That I will feel forever.” Nicole jerked away, horrified. “Theo, take it back.” Theo tore off his toque, yanked open the door and held it for her. Nicole couldn’t move, and he glared at her, “We have a long trip in front of us. Are you coming or not?” His little sister stared at him. Theo’s face was closed off, and she squeezed her eyelids shut. Fat tears dripped down her cheeks, and she took a deep, trembling breath. After a moment, she released it, straightening her shoulders. When she opened her eyes, they were full of pain and pity. Nicole gathered her skirts. In slow, measured steps, almost as if stalking him, she walked toward him with a mirthless smile. Passing, she warned, “You will regret this, brother.” ***