Chapter 4: Viviene

For the next twelve hours, Cedric was on pins and needles.

As the storm roared overhead, Hubert had gotten everyone into the strongest part of the house, which happened to be the Lady's Main Drawing Room on the fourth floor.

His guardsmen were scattered about next to their wives and children, comforting them with their presence. They all huddled together on comforters and blankets on the carpeted floor, hugging their families and waiting for the worst of the surges to pass.

The Duke sat by himself on the sofa at the center of the room, wrapped up in his own blankets. It reminded him in no uncertain terms of how much of a lone wolf he'd become.

All night long the storm raged and pounded onto the mansion. The thunder and lightning never stopped. Sheets of water poured down from the sky, as if a huge lake had suddenly appeared over the city and dumped its entire load on the hapless heads of the denizens below

No one got any sleep.

The noise was like a freight train thundering overhead. Several times, the mansion felt as if it would be torn apart by massive forces.

Towards 5 A.M., the deluge began to look more like regular rain. The worst of the storm had passed, moving westward.

The groundskeepers emerged from their sheltered areas and began removing fallen debris and branches off power and communication lines. The sooner they reestablished power, the easier their jobs would be.

Cedric Blaxtone stood in front of the mirror as he wicked away the moisture from his morning cold shower with a towel.

His damp blond hair tumbled around his shoulders, the ends touching the small of his back. His dark gold eyebrows and lashes framed his bright amber eyes, and his tall regal nose was softened only by the fullness of his lips.

His tall muscular body gleamed in front of the mirror full of power and athleticism. Once he passed puberty, it reached peak performance and never changed thereafter.

He had looked upon this body for a thousand years and only his eyes had changed. They'd gotten more and more weary of the world he lived in.

All the people around him were the same and all the places that he lived in was so similar that he'd lost track of where he had been and how long he'd been there.

He wrapped the towel around his torso and went into the walk-in closet to look for something cooler to wear.

This inferno called New Orleans was really just a hell hole.

It wasn't just hot. It was sticky hot! Every day, the temperature hovered in the mid 90s and 100s with humidity levels at almost 100%.

But that was not the worst part of it all.

Mosquitos here were the size of cockroaches and cockroaches were the size of sewer rats. The sewer rats themselves, they were the size of baby pigs.

It was disgusting enough to drive a man crazy.

If it hadn't been for Viviene, he would have never ventured to this place.

Viviene.

Her face hovered in front of him like a phantasm making his heart ache from missing her for far too long. Her familiar blonde hair, beautiful amber eyes, small pink mouth.

It was almost like looking into a mirror and seeing himself in a more enlightened, more refined female form.

She was his beautiful other half, his beloved twin sister.

She was his shadow, his closest confidante. She was the first person he remembered seeing as a very young child and the only person he had ever trusted in his life.

But now she was gone, leaving behind only the young boy she had carried for nine months inside her body.

He could not lose Devin too.

Cedric rubbed at his aching temples. An entire night being blasted by the noise of what sounded like endless freight trains, punctuated by thunder and lighting had given him a fierce headache.

He picked up his mobile phone and tried again to call the last number he had picked up.

The phone itself was still fully charged, but service had completely dropped. He needed to find another way to reconnect with the mysterious woman who had called him.

Punching quickly a few keystrokes, he saved the number under 'Kidnapper' and walked back out to the bedroom.

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A gentle rap on the door alerted him to the quiet presence of his manservant.

He looked up as Hubert entered his bedroom suite.

"Hubert, how is the effort to restore communication lines?" Cedric set the useless phone on his nightstand.

"We're doing everything we can, Your Royal Highness. The groundskeepers are braving the rains, clearing the debris and fallen tree limbs from the estate."

"How long until I can use my phone?"

Hubert took a deep breath. The Duke's guess was as good as his, but as the competent know-it-all manservant, he had to say something.

"I'm hoping we can get phones working by noon, but it could take as long as 24 hours." He grimaced hoping that service would, indeed, be restored in 24 hours or he would look like a chump.

"Make it happen by 7 A.M. I need to be able to reconnect with the kidnapper."

"Yes Sir." Hubert bowed in compliance.

His external face was stoic but his inner face was grimacing with distaste.

As if he actually had any power to make something physically impossible to happen. What did the Duke think he was, a demigod?

But of course, it was better just to say 'yes' and then figure out how to scramble around and buy time until whatever needed to be done could be done. It had always worked before.

Cedric looked away, apparently satisfied with the response.

"Do we have anything cool to wear? All I have are suits."

Hubert cleared his throat.

"Your Royal Highness. Let me see what I can do."

Hubert went into the Duke's personal wardrobe and looked through all the clothes that were hanging in his large walk-in closet.

The Duke wore tailored designer suits on a daily basis, eschewing less formal wear due to the type of work he had to do every day.

It was perfectly acceptable when he was residing in a cool damp place like Faria, or even the northwest coastal regions of the United States. But here in New Orleans, it was only bearable when the air conditioner was on.

Finding nothing acceptable, Hubert went into his own room and looked through his closet. He mostly also wore suits simply because the Duke insisted that his menservants look dignified and respectable. Being the head Butler, he could not dress down if the Duke was dressed up.

The few off-duty clothing he owned were of the 'wife-beater' variety that he wore whenever the guardsmen threw their luaus and their pool parties. It would most definitely not suit the Duke but unfortunately, tank tops and bright Bermuda shorts were all he had.

Hubert grimaced. The Duke would not be pleased with this selection but, oh well. It was a tough job to cater to a living god, but somebody had to do it.

With a sigh of resignation, Hubert pulled what he had and marched into the Duke's bedroom. He placed the few items he had on the bed for the Duke to choose from.

Cedric took one look at the clothing choices Hubert had placed before him.

Without blinking an eye, he grabbed a pale yellow tank top along with a pair of bright blue shorts decorated with yellow rubber duckies on a field of palm fronds.

"That will be all, Hubert." He waved a hand in dismissal.

Hubert bowed and reached out for the remaining items of clothing.

"Wait. Leave those. If power is not restored in the next 24 hours, I will need them."

"Yes, Your Royal Highness." He bowed again and removed himself from the Duke's master suite.

Cedric eyed the yellow rubber duckies on the shorts with a half-lidded look and quickly threw them on.

As much as he would like to, he couldn't walk around in a towel all day.

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