Blood Red Dawn (13 page)

C
laude and I checked into our rooms at the Hotel of Souls shortly before dawn. An utterly fascinating establishment, the hotel catered to vampires, placing us on the upper floors and providing the rooms with luxuries such as steel shutters, heavily draped windows and a curious coffin-sized box at the foot of the bed. I'd also heard that the staff would often act as donors for their select clients. As I'd fed well just an hour ago, I had no need to test out this rumor.

The bed was comfortable enough. Like Deirdre, I shunned the confines of a coffin, knowing that others of our kind would be extremely uncomfortable without it. We were all different, it seemed, and much had to do with our creators, our mentors in the life. I tossed and turned for a while, but eventually fell into a fitful sleep, interrupted frequently with dreams—nightmares in which the principal figures were Max and Deirdre. My subconscious dredged out every fear, even some I hadn't known existed. From the scenario of Deirdre, lying bloody and lifeless with Max standing over her body gloating, to the totally absurd vision of Deirdre and Max, living as a happy couple in my absence. Maggie figured into the dreams as well. She was alternately trying to kill me or attempting to seduce me. That she could succeed in either was disturbing.

Finally, around three o'clock, I gave up on sleep, showered, dressed, packed my belongings in the duffel bag and flipped on the television. As always there was nothing much to watch, but I did manage to find an old war movie and drowsed in the chair. At five the telephone rang.

“Mitch?
C'est moi.
Sam has gone over to the house to get Maggie and Chris; they'll leave from there and meet us at the airport. I've scheduled a cab for us to arrive at sundown, which should give us plenty of time to catch the flight. It's a joy to deal with a hotel staff that understands our special needs. I would feel better if we weren't transporting a crazy woman, but Sam is sure he can keep her manageable with medication.”

“He's the doctor,” I said, “and crazy people have always been his specialty.”

Vivienne laughed, then sobered up instantly. “Maybe so, but I fear he is playing the hero to make up for his role in the poison manufacture. He denies it, of course, but I am not so sure. I've asked Claude to come with us, I feel the need for extra protection.”

“Good thinking, Viv. Claude always seems to get left behind anyway.”

“He is a good man.”

I thought of Claude's revelation of love last night. He would be pleased to have the opportunity to protect Vivienne. I hoped the plan wouldn't backfire; it's not particularly easy for a man to see the woman he loves constantly in the arms of another man. Look what it had done to Max.

“Yeah. I'll meet you in the lobby at dusk.”

 

We met with no surprises and no hassles at the airport—a pleasant surprise. I'd gotten damn tired of jumping into an airplane every other day though, and vowed to myself that once this was all over, Deirdre and I would take a long vacation. Somewhere secluded and secret. The thought that perhaps we wouldn't be together after all crossed my mind. Max had always exerted power over her; I could only hope that for the sake of our love, she would hold on. If, that is, she remembered me at all. And that thought was unthinkable. I ordered a scotch on the rocks from the flight attendant and spent the rest of the trip staring out into the dark skies, feeling old and weary.

Still, when we landed in New York, I felt revived. This city was home for me, always would be. And Deirdre was here. I had felt it when we'd touched down here earlier in the week and I felt it now. We would find her. As to what sort of physical or mental state she'd be in, well, I couldn't worry about that now. I remembered that we'd talked about this once in Whitby and I told her that we'd build new memories if worse came to worse. And we would.

Getting off the plane seemed to take forever as did getting through the terminal and hailing a cab. I'd already arranged to have Vivienne and the rest check into the hotel. There was no damn way I would spend another night alone and away from Deirdre if I could help it.

I paid the driver and got out of the cab in front of the Ballroom of Romance. I always hated this place, from the first time I set foot in the door. I'd been secretly pleased when Vivienne bought it from Deirdre and turned it into Dangerous Crossings. Standing outside the place now, though, it was as if I'd jumped back in time. And I didn't like it, not one damn bit.

I elbowed my way to the front of the crowd, glaring down any opposition. Half-expecting to see Larry Martin at the door, I approached the doorman. “I'm here to see Max Hunter.”

“Mr. Hunter is not available right now, sir.” He glanced up at me briefly, then turned his eyes downward to study the seating chart in front of him. “Perhaps if you'd stand in the back of the line and wait your turn, he'll be free when you get admittance.”

“Not available? Like I don't know what that means. He damn well is available for me.”

The man really looked at me this time and I could tell from his eyes that he recognized me. Shorter than I and younger in appearance with a shaved head and a goatee, he looked like a normal human being, especially dressed in his uniform/tuxedo with the small brass name tag that read “Derek.” But there was something disquieting about him, something odd about his eyes and the way the features of his face seemed to blur. He reminded me, ridiculous though the thought was, of Larry Martin.

He continued to size me up, his hands curled into tightly knotted fists, but his voice remained calm and even. “Whom shall I say is calling?” he said, keeping up the pretext of politeness.

“You know damn well who I am, Derek. Just tell him I'm here. He must be expecting me. He'd be a fool if he wasn't. And Max is many things, but not a fool.”

He didn't say another word, but motioned to another employee to come over where we stood. “Take over for me, will you?” Derek said, “I need to talk to Max. Keep
him
here”—he pointed a thumb at me and scowled—“until I come back.”

I didn't wait too long, maybe five minutes at the most, before I heard a familiar voice. “So good to see you, Detective Greer. What can I do for you?”

“Can it, Max. I'm not a detective anymore. And we both know why I'm here.”

He smiled at me and I felt the gorge rise in my throat. He'd been a particularly nasty bastard as a vampire and now that he was an Other, I had no idea what he was capable of. But last time we'd met, I'd been merely human. Now, at least, the scales were somewhat more balanced.

“I'm disappointed in you, Greer. You're so predictable. No ‘hey, long time no see, glad to see you looking so good' small talk? Civilized beings preface their interactions with polite conversation.”

I smiled back at him, exposing my fangs. “Okay, I'm not civilized, big surprise. And our last encounter certainly gives a new meaning to the word ‘polite.' Let's just cut to the chase. You have her. I want her. I can go through your dead body just as easily as look at you. I think I'd like that, actually. So what's it going to be?”

Max laughed. “So very ‘Dirty Harry' of you, Mitch. I hadn't realized you were a movie buff. As far as my having her, as you say, I can only say that I don't know what you're talking about. Whom do I have?”

I reached out and tried to grab him by the collar but my hand seemed to bounce off of him. It was then that I noticed that the crowd outside the Ballroom had disappeared. I could see them, wending their way away from the club in groups of twos and threes, completely oblivious of this confrontation.

Max nodded. “Yes, you're right. I have that ability, Mitch. Bequeathed to me by my doting father, Eduard. Quite a handy attribute actually. Our business can be conducted, here, in plain sight of the whole city of New York and not one person will see or hear. The combination of vampiric powers still present in my soul and the Other powers given to me by this”—he pointed to the thick scar around his neck—“make me invincible. Just give it up. Even if I had her here, you must realize by now that she's changed. She wouldn't know you. Right now,” he gave a smug smile, “I doubt she'd even speak to you.”

Without thinking about what I was doing, my arm shot out and I punched him, a hard right to the jaw. He went down like a lead weight. I gave a harsh laugh. “Invincible? Not bloody likely.”

Stepping over him, I moved quickly through the bar, past the drinkers, the dancers, and the band and into the back area of the club. I hesitated only one second at the door of Max's office, marveling at how it was all exactly as I remembered it. Then I pushed the door open.

I'd expected the office would be empty, but instead Derek was sitting on a black leather couch, a glass of wine in his hands. He jumped up when I entered and the glass crashed to the floor. “Hey,” he said, his voice sounding sleepy, “how'd you get in here?”

“Max sent me,” I said, “to pick up something that belongs to me in the back room.”

He moved to stop me. “Don't even think about it,” I growled at him. “Whoever the hell you are you're no match for me.”

I crossed the room and flung open the door to Max's secret hideaway. Inside, though, there was no Deirdre. The bed was rumpled and there were clothes on the floor, but they were clothes I didn't recognize.

“Deirdre?” I called her name anyway, feeling foolish as I did it. I'd been so sure, so certain that she'd be here. The armoire door was open, filled with the clothes of a stranger.

I turned back to see Max and Derek standing in the open doorway. They exchanged a look that told me many things. One, Max was as shocked as I was to find the room empty. Or maybe even more so. And two, if I were Derek, I'd head for the hills as soon as I could. Someone had screwed up, big time. And Max didn't reward screw-ups.

Max, however, covered his surprise. “I told you, Mitch. She's not here.” He rubbed his jaw and gave me a smile. “Nice punch, by the way; it's good to know you haven't lost all of your charm. But if you'd just believed me, we all could have saved ourselves a lot of trouble.”

I pulled in a good long scent of the room. “Don't bullshit me, Hunter. We both know she was here. I can smell her, for God's sake.”

He smiled and stretched his arms out. “As anyone can plainly see, she's not here, Mitch,” he said with finality. “I'll give you five minutes to leave the premises before I call the police. We're on good terms with them now and I'm sure they'd be interested in finding out how far one of their own has fallen. Somehow I don't think you'd like to spend a day in jail.”

Derek was laughing as I left the room. Before I was even out into the club, though, I heard a loud crack, perhaps the sound of the back of a hand hitting someone's face. Then there was the thump of a body falling on the floor and the laughter stopped.

Back out on the street, I looked around. “Not here,” I said to myself. “How could she not be here?” If I had read correctly the look Max gave Derek, she had been there. She must have escaped.

I smiled. “Good girl, Deirdre. But where on earth would you have gone? And how will I ever find you now? It's a big city.”

The rest of the night I spent walking the streets, searching. I asked at the hotel in which she'd lived when we first met. They'd never heard of her. Neither had anyone seen her near where I used to live, an old brownstone in a somewhat less desirable area of town. I even went to the building that housed Griffin Designs but the security guard would only say that Miss Griffin had sold the business years ago and that if I had any further questions, I'd need to see Miss McCain in the morning. Finally, I had to admit that I was out of ideas and out of time. The night was ending when I hailed a cab and went back to the hotel.

An ambulance pulled away as we approached, lights flashing and siren howling. A crowd of people stood around the hotel entrance. “What happened?” I asked, out of curiosity.

“Somebody was stabbed.” A man in a business suit with a briefcase and a paper stashed under his arm answered. “They say he might be dead.”

Glancing down at the pavement, I noticed a trail of blood leading out of the door and to the curb. “Thanks,” I said to the man, “are the cops here yet?”

“Upstairs, I think. Seventh floor, I heard someone say.” He shook his head. “And my travel agent said this was a safe area.”

“It's New York,” I said with half a smile. “You're not really safe anywhere.”

 

I
hesitated before ringing the buzzer marked with Terri Hamilton's name. Her hatred of Max and her desire for revenge were not exactly solid grounds for cultivating a relationship with a former enemy. Then again, I had no other choice. No one who knew me would think to look for me here.

“Deirdre?” Terri's voice sounded scratchy on the intercom.

“Yes.”

She give a brief hard laugh. “Come on up.” The door made a buzzing sound and I pulled it open, entering the hallway and rushing up three flights of stairs. Once in the actual apartment hallway I felt safe from sunlight, unless this invitation was a horrible ruse to expose me to the sun's rays. “So be it,” I said softly to myself and knocked.

Terri answered immediately. She must have been sleeping when I called. She was wearing a short, pink nightshirt and her hair was disheveled.

“Come on in,” she said, “I welcome you to my humble abode.” The apartment was huge but empty except for a few folding chairs, a card table, a boom box, and a pile of blankets and pillows on the floor. “The emphasis is on humble, I'm afraid. When I lost the
RealLife Vampires
job, I had to sell all my furniture. In a few months what little savings I have will be eaten up by the mortgage here and I'll have to find some other place to live.”

I didn't know what to say. “I'm sorry for your trouble, Terri. For what that's worth.”

She raised an eyebrow at me. “You really don't remember me, do you? I'd think that you would be cheering at my downfall. After all, between Bob and me, with a lot of encouragement and support from Eduard DeRouchard, we managed to convince the world that you and all like you were bloodthirsty demons from hell.”

I shrugged. “I can hardly be angry about something I can't recall. You've given me a place of refuge in need. I would think that would cancel all scores.”

“Yeah. I guess it does. So, tell me, Deirdre, what the hell are you doing in New York with Max? Last I heard you were hiding out in Whitby with Mitch.”

“Mitch? He never existed.”

Terri looked at me as if she might explode with laughter. “That's the biggest bunch of bullshit I've ever heard, Deirdre. Of course he exists, I have pictures of him and you and all the others. What's Max Hunter been telling you?”

“That everything I managed to remember from my former life was all part of a fevered delusion on my part.”

“And you believed him?”

The sun rose outside the drawn curtains of Terri's windows. A small crack of sunlight filtered in, making me feel weak and slightly woozy. I glanced over at the chairs, they were out of the direct path of the window. “He presented me with conclusive evidence to prove the point. May I sit?”

She looked over her shoulder at the window. “Oh, yeah, sorry about that. Cheap drapes. And I'm being a bad hostess. Please, go ahead and sit down. I'm going to make a pot of coffee, can I get you anything?”

“Oh, coffee would be wonderful. Thank you.”

She looked surprised. “You drink coffee?”

“Of course. What exactly do you know about me? About,” I hesitated as always before saying the word, “vampires?”

“Not all that much, just what DeRouchard told us. At the start, I actually believed it was all the truth. But even before the end, I began to have doubts. But the money was good, and . . .” Her voice drifted off and she frowned. “That's no excuse, I know that now. Anyway, let me go make the coffee. Then we can talk. Do you need to stay the day?”

“Now that the sun is up, yes. I hope that is not an inconvenience for you.”

Terri laughed on the way into her kitchen. “No problem, sweetie. I'll just cancel all my other pressing appointments today.”

I heard the water running in the kitchen, heard Terri bustling about, opening drawers and cupboards, all the while humming a little tune. For a woman hell-bent on revenge she acted inordinately cheerful and normal. Or maybe it was all an act. It didn't matter. She said the words to me that I most needed to hear. Mitch did exist. He hadn't been part of a dream or delusion, he was real. He was real! And we should have been together. My being with Max was exactly what I'd thought it was from the beginning—nothing but a lie.

“Ow!” Something clattered to the floor in the kitchen. “Oh, shit,” Terri said.

“Are you all right?”

“Yeah, just clumsy and stupid.” She came out of the kitchen, sucking on her finger. “Cut myself,” she said, taking the finger from her mouth and examining it. “On the coffee can.” She twisted her head to one side and grimaced. “It's pretty deep. Damn it.”

I could see the blood dripping from her finger. Worse than that, I could smell it. Closing my eyes, I took in a deep breath and crooked my fingers around the edges of my chair.

“Deirdre? What's wrong? Surely you don't get faint at the sight of—” She stopped midsentence. “Oh. Yeah. Jesus, I can be a stupid bitch at times. Hold on, let me get a bandage.”

She hurried down the hallway and rummaged around in her medicine cabinet. I started to laugh softly as her obscenities reached my ears. When she came out, her finger was wrapped tightly in toilet paper.

“Out of bandages,” she said, shrugging. “I forgot them last time I was at the store. I think it's stopped bleeding, though. Sorry about that. I didn't mean to bother you.”

“I am fine, Terri. Don't give it a second thought.”

“Okay,” she said, “coffee time.”

Back into the kitchen she went. I felt tired just watching her bounce from room to room. “What do you take in your coffee?” she called from the kitchen.

“Just coffee, thank you.”

“Ah, good thing, actually. I think the milk's gone sour.”

Terri came out from the kitchen bearing two mismatched mugs. She handed one to me and sat down on the other folding chair. “Cheers,” she said, clinking her cup up against mine.

As I sipped my coffee I noticed that my hands were trembling. The sight and scent of Terri's blood, even for that small amount of time, made me ache with hunger.

She noticed as well. “Deirdre? Are you okay?”

“Fine,” I said, taking another sip, “I am just hungry. But don't worry, you are quite safe.”

Her eyes acquired a curious glint. “How long has it been since you've, um, fed?”

“Unfortunately, I don't remember. Max had been giving me some particularly vile mixture to drink, a combination of wine, blood, and some sort of drug, I think. Whatever it was, it satisfied my hunger a bit and calmed the nausea, but tasted horrible, bitter and medicinal. After about the third or fourth day, I refused to drink it.”

“I don't know Max all that well, but somehow I can't imagine he took too kindly to your refusal.”

“No,” I smiled at her over the rim of the mug, “but I can be forceful when needed.”

“I'm sure you can. You said you had nausea? Is that normal if you haven't fed for a while?”

“Not at all. Until recently I don't believe I was ever sick. But right now I don't wish to discuss my health; to be honest, I've heard nothing but talk about that since I woke up at the Ballroom of Romance. I want to talk about Mitch.” I sounded breathless, like a young girl talking of her first love. “Tell me all you know about him.”

“Yeah, we kind of got sidetracked, didn't we? Hold on a second, I'd like to have a cigarette if you don't mind.”

“I don't mind at all, Terri. In fact, I'll have one as well.”

She choked a bit on her coffee. “You smoke?”

“I started so that I could fit in with the crowd. Not peer pressure, you understand, but the desire to blend in with everyone else. Now I find it relaxes me.”

She nodded, got up and went back into the kitchen, returning with a pack, a lighter, and an ashtray. She lit one for herself, then offered me the pack and the lighter. “So let me get this straight. You drink coffee and wine and smoke cigarettes. Do you eat regular food, too?”

“No, anything liquid is fine, but solids don't get digested. And one loses the craving for them, they simply don't seem appetizing after a while.”

“This is fascinating, Deirdre. Really. Eduard always maintained that your kind acted exactly the way you're portrayed in movies. Instead you're nonthreatening, charming, and, I hate to admit it, nice.” She sat for a while, staring into her cup of coffee. “To be honest,” she said, “I'd rather you weren't. I'd feel like less of a, oh, I don't know, murderer may be too strong a word.”

“Or it may not. But what's done is done, I'm not here to judge you. Tell me about Mitch.”

As she spoke of what she knew of the two of us, I felt some of the events fall into place in my mind. There was that first attack on us by one of the Others and I remembered how totally clueless we were about what this would mean to our life. All the subsequent attacks, all the way up to the very last one, the one that had introduced the poison into my system, became clear in my mind. As an added bonus, details surrounding the attacks revealed themselves, details to which she'd never have been privy. As times and dates fell back into line, I was able to reconstruct places we had been and call to mind people we had known. Terri told me of our wedding. As she went through the event I remembered it with her, right down to the green dress I wore that night. I could even smell the perfume I wore—lily of the valley.

At one point she got up, brought us more coffee and even produced some photos of that occasion and others.

I smiled at her when she finished. “You cannot know how much this has helped me, Terri. I only wish there were some way I could pay you back for the kindness you've done me.”

She laughed. “For starters, you can pay off my mortgage on this place.”

“Anything else?”

Her eyes dropped away from mine. “No, not really.”

“Ah.”

“Except . . .”

“What is it, Terri?”

She got up and began to pace the room. “This is going to sound very strange, Deirdre, especially coming from me. And well, I don't quite know how to say it.”

“Just say it. I daresay you know more about me than I do. So you'll know how I'll react.”

“Funny. But I'm being serious. Before I got involved in the whole
RealLife Vampires
thing, before I entered the employ of Eduard DeRouchard, I always had a thing for vampires. I thought they'd be exciting, thrilling to be around. You know.”

I nodded. “Like in the movies.”

She gave a nervous giggle. “Yeah. And, well, anyway, I know now that you don't kill the people you feed from and I'd sort of, well . . .” Terri blushed. “Shit, I feel like a real freak saying this.”

“Just say it,” I said again, gently. “I think I know where you're going on this and I'm old enough that very little shocks me.”

“Okay. This is so embarrassing and lame, but I want you to feed on me, just a little, so I can know what it feels like. And since you're hungry, well, it's a way of sort of paying back all the misery I've caused you and your friends over the past few years.”

“Terri, you're not thinking straight. What if I decided that all of your blood would be the proper payment? Do you want to die for this thrill?”

She glanced over at me. “You wouldn't kill me. Like you said, I know you better than you know yourself. You just don't have the killer instinct.”

I gave a mock sigh. “Yes, you have guessed my deepest, darkest secret. I'm not a killer.”

“So? Will you?”

I moved toward her. “Why not?”

She tensed up and giggled nervously. “I can't do this,” she said, “if I see you coming. Why don't you come around behind me?”

I felt awkward also. “Yes, that might be better.”

Turning her back to me, Terri set her shoulders and sighed. Silently I moved closer to her, so close that my breath on her neck made her shiver.

“Terri,” I said softly, whispering the words, “we don't have to do this if you don't want to.”

“I do. Honest.”

“Fine.” My feeding instincts had been turned up with the scent of her blood earlier. Standing this close to her, I caught a whiff of her skin, soapy clean and fresh smelling. I put my mouth on her neck, my gums tingled and my fangs grew in response to my need. My bite was as gentle as I could make it, but still she gave a short surprised intake of breath and tried to move away from me. I hesitated before drawing on her blood, this had to be a willing gift on her part or it was wrong.

“Don't stop,” she said, her voice muffled.

Wrapping an arm around her waist, I held her close to me, pulling in small swallows of her blood at first, savoring the taste of her and the warmth that flowed down my throat with every drop. She relaxed and I pulled on her again, more aggressively this time. Visions of other feedings and other prey rushed through my mind as if each drop of her blood restored a vital piece of my vampiric nature. I wanted to stay there forever, slowly drinking, lost in the taste and the song of her blood rushing through her veins. Instead I forced my mouth away from her neck and withdrew, still supporting her with a gentle arm around her waist.

“Terri? Are you all right?”

She sighed. “Wow. I had no idea. That was amazing. It tickled at first and itched a bit but then after the initial bite I felt like I was floating away.” Terri turned back to face me, smiling. “Sort of like Percocet, only better.”

“Someone once said to me that being fed on was like being pulled through a velvet tunnel.”