Baited Blood (3 page)

“Is that the Star of David?” asked Madison.

“No,” Doug answered in a chopped, harsh voice.

Notchey leaned in for a closer look. “It looks sort of like the Star of David. It’s definitely a six-point star, but it has something in the center—a circle or something. It’s difficult to tell.”

“It’s a hexagram with an eye in the center,” Doug announced as they shifted the man onto his back once again. “And it’s not a tattoo. It’s a brand.” His face clouded over as he spoke. “I thought I saw something there when Dodie was removing the stake, but I didn’t want to believe it. Guess I was hoping it was just a birthmark.”

Madison looked at Doug with wide eyes. “You mean, he was a slave or a prisoner, something like that?”

“Of sorts.” Doug nearly spit out the words.

Notchey asked, “You sure it’s not a gang tat or some other organization?”

“It’s definitely not a gang tattoo.” Without saying another word, Doug turned and lifted the back of his shirt. Reaching back, he pulled down the waist of his jeans a couple of inches, showing Madison and Notchey the same brand in the same place on his body.

THREE

B
y the time Samuel La Croix got to the Dedhams’, the wounded vampire was strong enough to sit up and eat. Since the Dedhams did not keep human blood in the house, Dodie had made him a concoction of various types of animal blood. She was a whiz at mixing flavors to stem the monotony of drinking blood every day. She and Doug dined out when they wanted human blood.

When the nameless vampire first tasted the thick red brew, he’d grimaced and nearly spit it out, but one look at Dodie’s disapproving eye changed his mind. He swallowed, then let out a string of words in his own language to let everyone know it wasn’t his flavor of choice. When he’d eyed the two humans with a hungry eye, Madison fidgeted with the bracelet strapped to her wrist. The young vampire noticed and studied her, his brow scrunched in curiosity. Once he realized neither Madison nor Notchey were on the menu, the vampire drank Dodie’s blood smoothie, draining the glass in three big gulps. Dodie refilled the glass and he downed that, too, but less quickly.

While the vampire ate, Doug tried pantomiming to get some information. First, he pointed at himself and said
Doug
. Next, he pointed at Dodie and said
Dodie
. The young vampire parroted the words. Doug went through it again, giving both his and Dodie’s names when he pointed. Next, he pointed at Madison and Notchey: “Madison. Mike.” That was followed by pointing his finger at their guest and shrugging.

With a flash of understanding in his eyes, the young man pointed to himself. “Keleta.”

“Colletta?” Doug asked, pointing at the young man’s chest.

The young man shook his head. “Keleta,” he repeated more slowly. He pointed again at himself. “Name. Keleta.” His voice had a rich accent that no one seemed to recognize, but at least they now knew his name. Doug, Dodie, and Madison repeated it. Keleta rewarded them with a nod and a small smile. Notchey stayed in the background, observing. Keleta repeated all their names to make sure he’d understood them correctly. When Samuel showed up, they had gotten no further than the names, since it was apparent that Keleta spoke only a few words of English. Before Samuel could interview Keleta, Doug gave him a rundown of what had transpired, from Madison discovering the body in the pool to noticing the tattoo, including informing Samuel that he had the same tattoo.

Samuel asked to speak with Keleta alone. As everyone filed out of the den, Samuel asked Doug to remain. Dodie, Madison, and Notchey could only stare with blunt nosiness as Doug apologetically closed the door to the den, shutting them out.

“Do you think Samuel understands his language?” Madison asked.

They were in the kitchen. Disappointed by the pot roast ruse, Notchey eagerly accepted Madison’s offer of turkey chili as compensation. Dodie took charge of heating it up for Notchey and Madison for their Sunday supper. Madison had protested, saying she was capable of taking care of feeding them, but Dodie insisted, replying that looking after them gave her something to do while they waited.

It wasn’t lost on Madison that Dodie was agitated. Madison had known Dodie Dedham for about four months, but during that time the older woman had proven unflappable, a solid rock in times of trouble. Now she seemed worried and nervous. Madison watched the older woman as she took the chili out of the microwave, gave it a half-hearted stir, and put it back in for more heating time, leaving the metal spoon in the plastic dish. Before Dodie could press the start button and set off sparks, Madison jumped up and stopped her. Without a word, Madison opened the microwave and retrieved the spoon, then put the microwave back into action.

When she saw her error, Dodie’s mouth turned downward. She raked a hand through her light auburn hair and looked about to cry. Madison took Dodie’s cold vampire hands between her warm ones, led her to a seat at the kitchen table, and took the one next to her.

“You said Keleta’s going to be fine in a few days.”

“And he will be,” Dodie answered, not looking at Madison. The old woman seemed a million miles away, which was so out of character.

Mike Notchey took a seat at the table across from Dodie, his astute investigator’s mind honing in on Dodie’s vibes. “This isn’t about Keleta’s well-being, is it, Dodie?” When Dodie still didn’t look up, he continued probing. “Two things could be going on. One, you’re worried someone knows you and Doug are vampires.” No reaction. “Or, you know who dumped that kid in your pool.”

When Dodie’s eyes snapped up sharply to meet his, Notchey knew the last question had found its mark.

“Who was it, Dodie?” he asked. “Another vampire? Or a beater with a score to settle?”

“My gut,” Madison interjected, “tells me this wasn’t the work of a beater.” She paused, then looked at Dodie. “And what about the brand on both Keleta and Doug?”

That question really snapped Dodie out of her daze. “Doug showed you that?”

Madison nodded. “While you were out of the room. Keleta has one just like it.”

Dodie looked down again. “I thought it was the same mark. I noticed it when we were bringing him in here, but I hoped I’d been mistaken—that it was just a birthmark or something like that.”

“Doug said he’d hoped it was just a birthmark, too.” Madison squeezed Dodie’s hand. “What has the two of you so worried?”

“What does the brand mean, Dodie?” asked Notchey.

The microwave beeped, signaling that the food was heated. No one got up from the table to get it.

“What does the mark mean?” Notchey asked again.

“It’s not what,” answered Dodie in a small, troubled voice. “It’s who.”

Notchey and Madison glanced at each other, then put their attention back on Dodie, waiting for an explanation.

Dodie started to say something, then stopped, clearly exhausted. Madison got up from the table. Retrieving a mug from the cupboard, she poured into it what remained of the smoothie Dodie had prepared for Keleta from the blender. After removing the chili from the microwave, she stuck the mug in for a few seconds to warm it up.

“Here,” she said, handing the mug to Dodie. “This might help.”

Dodie took the offered mug. “Thank you, dear.” She took a few sips, then a deep breath, before continuing.

“I’m afraid she’s back,” Dodie told them in a voice barely above a whisper, as if that explained everything.

“Who’s back?” asked Notchey.

“Annabelle.” Dodie paused to take another comforting sip of warm blood. “Annabelle Fogle.”

“And this Annabelle Fogle, she’s a vampire?” Notchey shifted in his chair as he waited for confirmation of what he already surmised. He could deal with beaters, but murderous vampires were another story.

“Yes. She’s the one who turned Doug.” Dodie took another sip of blood. “And probably Keleta. From what Doug’s told me, Annabelle purposefully hunts male bloodline holders, brands them, then turns them so they carry her mark for eternity.”

Looking down at her own left palm, Madison studied it. Bloodlines were special lines in the palm of the hand, darker than the others, that appeared on the left palm of people predisposed to being vampires. Only people with bloodlines could be turned into vampires by other vampires. Much to her relief, her own palm showed no special lines. But it didn’t keep her from
checking
.

Madison did some quick math in her head. “So if she turned Doug, this Annabelle has been a vampire for at least a couple hundred years.”

“Much longer,” answered Dodie. “Doug was turned in the early 1800s, and he told me that Annabelle was around during the Salem witch trials. Those were in the late 1600s. How much further she goes back, I’m not sure.”

“She’s a vampire witch?” The hair on Madison’s arms stood like a drunk’s three-day stubble.

“No, just a vampire. But I understand she stirred things up for a lot of those poor women in Salem. Doug told me Annabelle was one of the women spreading the lies about them. After, she turned a couple of the victims’ husbands.”

Madison was speechless. To her, the Salem trials were something from a history book, nothing more. “Are you kidding?”

“No, not at all.” Dodie shifted her head from side to side in sadness.

“How ironic,” commented Notchey, with a voice as dry as burnt toast. “They were hunting witches, real or not, and all the time they had embryo vampires in their midst.”

Again, Madison and Notchey looked at each other; this time, it was more than a glance. They studied each other’s face and saw the fascination and fear they shared.

Breaking his eyes away from Madison, Notchey turned back to Dodie. “Annabelle branded all the men she turned?”

Dodie shrugged her thin shoulders. “I’m not sure when she started the marking, but she was doing it when she met Doug. By giving them the brand before they were turned into vampires, they can never get rid of it.”

Madison leaned in. “What does the mark mean, do you know?”

“I’m not sure what it means,” Dodie told them, “if anything, beyond being her personal mark.”

“It’s like branding cattle,” Madison said in disgust. “Or slaves.”

Notchey got up and paced the kitchen. “So you think this Annabelle branded and turned Keleta, then dumped him in your pool? What would be her motive?”

“I’m not sure she needs one.” They all turned at the sound of Doug’s voice. They had been so wrapped up in what Dodie was saying, they hadn’t heard him come in. Behind him came Samuel, talking on his cell phone as he walked.

“Keleta is resting,” Samuel told everyone after ending his call. “That was Byron and Ricky on the phone. In a little while, I’ll take Keleta to their home. They will take care of him and try to determine whether or not he’s able to be rehabilitated.”

“Oh, dear.” Dodie looked at Samuel, her mouth a sad inverted crescent.

“Rehabilitated?” asked Madison. She was still learning about the vampire way of life and how the council governed to keep peace in their community. Dodie’s reaction to Samuel’s news put her on alert that rehabilitation was serious business.

“Keleta,” Doug explained, “is young, only twenty-two years old, and it seems he hasn’t been a vampire very long. He’s a bit confused right now about the timeline. It’s often difficult for young vampires to adjust to their new life, earn a living, and make their way without help. Byron and Ricky will spend time mentoring and teaching Keleta our ways.”

“Usually,” Dodie added, “the vampire who does the turning is responsible for the training, but in cases like this, it falls to others.”

“Where’s he from?” Notchey asked Samuel. “Could you understand him?”

Samuel stood in the doorway between the kitchen and dining room. He was dressed casually in jeans and an expensive cream-colored sweater. After depositing his phone in his pocket, he pushed up the sleeves of the sweater and leaned against the door frame, his hands in his pockets.

Samuel was a striking man, clean shaven, with a bald head and a scar that started behind one ear and ran down the side of his dark brown neck. Rather than taking anything away from Samuel’s looks, the scar only added to his mystique and aura of power. When he smiled, he could light up a room. When he was displeased, even other vampires went on guard. He was wearing his usual sunglasses. Behind them, Samuel’s eyes were milky from being blinded by the man who’d sold him into slavery as a young boy. But when Samuel had been turned into a vampire, his sight had returned unexpectedly, clearer than ever, even as his eyes still appeared to be blinded. Samuel La Croix looked as though he were in his mid to late thirties and spoke with a steady, commanding voice with a hint of an accent, not unlike Keleta’s.

“The boy is from Eritrea,” Samuel informed them. “His name is Keleta Kibreab. He’s quite educated and speaks Tigrinya, which is an Eritrean language, as well as Arabic and Amharic, the language of Ethiopia. He does know some English, and it was coming back to him in bits and pieces as we spoke, but mostly I communicated with him in Amharic.”

Madison put her elbows on the table and rested her chin in her cupped hands. “Could he tell you anything more?”

“As far as I could determine,” Samuel continued, “he’d come to California with some friends for a holiday. A woman invited him back to her place. They had another drink when they got there, but it must have been drugged, because the next thing he remembers was the pain of being branded.”

A collective shudder ran through everyone in the Dedhams’ kitchen just thinking about being branded. Especially Doug, who had already been through the painful process.

“Reminds me of that Holloway girl in the news,” said Madison. “She went on vacation and disappeared.”

“Oh.” Dodie’s hand shot up to her mouth in dismay as Madison’s comment flashed clarity on Keleta’s situation. “His poor parents. They must be frantic.”

“After that, he’s blocked most everything out,” continued Samuel. “He doesn’t remember being turned but understands he’s a vampire. He remembers nothing about the stake in his chest or about being brought here.”

“And what about Annabelle Fogle?” asked Notchey. “Does he remember her?”

Samuel shook his head. “He claims he never heard the woman’s name, just that the woman who turned him was older than him. She had long red hair and was very beautiful. The name Annabelle Fogle wasn’t familiar to him either.”