Chapter 65 The Journey to Paris

Chapter 65 The Journey to Paris
Once I had what I needed, I didn’t waste any more time, so I booked a flight to Paris immediately, and there was no hesitation, no second thoughts, then I got into my car and drove straight out of Lagos, heading back to Ibadan, and the journey felt longer than usual, not because of the distance, but because my mind wouldn’t stay still, and every thought led back to her: Jane. By the time I arrived at my house, the sun was already beginning to dip, casting long shadows across the compound, and I stepped inside, and the familiar silence greeted me like an old friend, but there was no time to linger, so I went straight to my room and pulled out my traveling bag. I didn’t pack much—only what mattered, a few important clothes, durable ones, and shoes I knew I could rely on, and there was no unnecessary weight, no distractions, because in and out was the plan, and once I was done, I zipped up the bag, slung it over my shoulder, and headed back out without looking back. The drive to the airport was quiet, too quiet, and by the time I got there and settled into the waiting area, with nothing but time on my hands, my thoughts drifted somewhere else entirely: Jane, and a faint smile tugged at my lips. Jane was… different, wild, unpredictable, alive in a way that made everything else feel dull, and we used to roam the nights together, moving through the streets like shadows, and Paris, back then, felt like our playground, and we didn’t walk like normal people—we hunted, we played. She was incredible at hypnosis, not just one person… no, Jane could control a whole group at once, and I remember nights where she would stand in the middle of a crowded street, her eyes glowing faintly, and within seconds, everyone around her would fall silent, still, completely under her control, and I always found that part fascinating, dangerous… but fascinating. We could only move like that at night, though, because Jane was a lesser vampire, and the sun was her enemy, and even the slightest exposure would burn her skin, weaken her, so we lived in the dark, embraced it, night after night, and Paris became something else entirely after sunset. There was this club we always went to—Blue Luck, hidden, exclusive, filled with people who thought they were there for fun, for music, for escape, and they had no idea, so we would blend in, laugh, dance even… and when the time came, Jane would pick her targets, naive humans, drunk, careless, easy, and she loved feeding, loved the thrill of it, the control, the way they’d go limp in her arms. But me? I exhaled slowly, my gaze drifting across the airport, because I was never really a fan of it, and biting into someone’s neck… feeling the warmth of their blood like that—it never sat right with me, and I did what I had to do, but it was never something I enjoyed. Jane used to tease me about it, and she said I was “too human” for someone like me, and maybe she was right, but those nights… those reckless, dangerous, unforgettable nights… they were some of the best I ever had, and now… now I was going back. Finally, it was time, so I boarded the plane without hesitation, found my seat, and settled in as the engines roared to life, and moments later, we were in the air, leaving everything behind. The flight felt long… longer than it should have, maybe because my mind refused to rest, and hours passed, then, at last—we landed in Paris, and I stepped out of the airport, and the cool air brushed against my skin, carrying that same quiet elegance I remembered, and for a moment, I just stood there, taking it in, then I moved. I got into a taxi and leaned forward slightly. “Take me to the best hotel you can think of,” I said, and the driver nodded and pulled away, and as the car moved through the streets, I rested my head against the window, watching the city pass by—lights, people, movement, life. And then… the doubt crept in, slow, uninvited. What am I even doing here? I exhaled quietly, my gaze unfocused. I left my home… my country… for this, for a girl I met over two centuries ago, and two hundred years, and a bitter smile formed on my lips. She’s probably moved on, and she’s probably forgotten me, and why wouldn’t she? Time changes everything… and everyone, and she might not even be in Paris anymore, and maybe this whole trip… was a mistake, and the thought lingered, heavy, but then another followed. I have nowhere else to go, and my grip tightened slightly against my knee. Maybe… I could start over here, a new life, a new identity, and get a job, blend in, and spend the next ten years building something stable… something perfect, and then… leave again, like I always do. The taxi slowed, pulling me out of my thoughts. “We’re here,” the driver said, and I looked up, and a tall building stood before me, elegant and imposing, its structure stretching into the sky. “This hotel is very popular among tourists,” the driver added, and I stepped out of the taxi and stood still for a moment, staring up at it. Hôtel Le Bristol, and the name alone stirred something deep within me, so I studied the building, my eyes tracing its height, its modern design—and then it hit me, because I remembered this place, and I had been here before, two hundred years ago, and back then… it wasn’t this tall, not this refined, not like this, and time had reshaped it, just like it reshapes everything else. I took a slow breath, then I walked in. The lobby was exactly what you’d expect from a place like this—polished marble floors reflecting the warm glow of chandeliers, soft classical music playing faintly in the background, and the quiet murmur of guests moving about, and everything felt expensive… controlled, and behind the front desk stood a well-dressed French man, neat hair, sharp suit, the kind of smile trained for people like me. “Bonsoir, monsieur,” he greeted politely. “Good evening,” I replied, keeping it simple. “How may I assist you?” “I’d like a room,” I said. “A suite,” and his fingers moved swiftly across the computer before he nodded. “Of course,” and moments later, he handed me a key, and the tag read 111. “Thirteenth floor,” he added with a courteous smile. “Thank you,” and I turned and made my way to the elevator, and the ride up was smooth, quiet, and when the doors opened, I stepped into a long, carpeted hallway and walked until I found it: Room 111. I unlocked the door and stepped inside, and the suite was… magnificent, wide space, modern furniture, a large bed placed perfectly in the center, soft lighting, glass windows stretching from wall to wall, offering a view of the city glowing under the evening sky, and everything about it screamed luxury, but none of it mattered, because despite all that space… it felt empty, and I felt empty, so I dropped my bag near the bed and stood there for a moment, staring at nothing in particular, then I exhaled and turned away. Staying inside wasn’t going to help, so I left, and the streets of Paris were alive again, even as the sun faded, and lights flickered on, and laughter echoed from cafés, and people walked in pairs and groups—everyone had somewhere to be, someone to be with, and I walked without direction, just… hoping, hoping I’d turn a corner and see her, Jane, that wild smile, that dangerous presence, but she wasn’t there, not on any street, not in any crowd. Eventually, I found myself standing in front of a cinema, and without thinking too much about it, I went in, and the movie was in French—most of it went over my head—but I stayed anyway, sitting quietly as the screen flickered in front of me, and a few seats ahead of me sat a family: a man and his wife, close together, their shoulders brushing, and between them were their children—a teenage girl and a younger boy, and they were… lively. The boy kept whispering things, making his sister laugh, and the mother would lightly scold them, smiling as she did, and the father leaned in now and then, saying something that made all of them chuckle softly, and it was simple, normal, real, and for some reason… I couldn’t stop watching them, and a strange feeling settled in my chest, something heavy, something I didn’t like, so I looked away, but the feeling didn’t leave, because the truth was… I never had that, not even close, and watching them now—it made something inside me ache. The movie ended eventually, the lights came on, and people began to leave, and I stayed seated for a few seconds longer before finally standing up and walking out, and by the time I stepped outside… it was already dark. I looked to my right, and a little further ahead, under the soft glow of a streetlight, I saw an ice cream truck, and a small line had formed in front of it—people chatting quietly, some laughing, others just waiting patiently, and for some reason… it felt normal, so I walked over and joined the line, and when it was my turn, I ordered something simple, and the vendor handed it to me, and I took a slow lick as I stepped aside, and for a brief moment… I forgot everything, because it was easily the best ice cream I had ever tasted—cold, smooth, rich, and I stood there longer than I expected, finishing it slowly, almost like I didn’t want it to end. When I was done, I wiped my hand lightly and looked up, then a thought crossed my mind: Blue Luck, and I wasn’t even sure it would still exist after all these years, because places like that don’t usually last, but still… I had to check, so I went, and to my surprise… there it was.