Blood Red Dawn (14 page)

She laughed. “Well, that's about as Freudian as you can get. And while we're deep in the throes of clichés, how was it for you?”

Suddenly, the euphoria of feeding faded away, replaced with a gnawing sense of nausea.

“Deirdre? You don't look that good.”

I pressed my lips together, closed my eyes, and held up a hand to stave off her comments, willing the sickness to leave. It didn't.

My eyes shot open and I doubled over from the pain in my stomach.

“You're scaring me, you know that, don't you? Is there something wrong with my blood?”

“No,” I managed to gasp, “it's not you. Excuse me.”

I ran down the hall, found her bathroom and dropped to my knees in front of the toilet, vomiting up every drop of blood I'd taken. When the pain subsided, my stomach was empty and I felt the same. I curled up into a ball there on the rug in Terri Hamilton's bathroom and whimpered, “What the hell is wrong with me?”

W
hen I finally felt that I could stand, I rose and splashed water on my face. Then I went back to the living room. Terri had gotten dressed. She wore jeans and a
RealLife Vampires
logo T-shirt. I smiled when I saw it and she shrugged.

“It's all that's left of my former glory,” she said, pulling out the front of it. “I'm worried about you though. Were you sick? I mean, did you throw up?”

I nodded.

“Does that happen usually?”

“Not at all. And once again, you have no need to worry. The problem isn't yours, it's mine. Apparently I can no longer ingest human blood. What a fine vampire that makes me.”

“But why?”

“Max told me my metabolism was changing and that it would even out after a while. I thought at the time he exaggerated the facts, so that I would take the drink he kept for me, the drink that kept me mildly sedated and docile. And here I thought everything he told me was a lie,” I said dryly. “I think I can assume he told me the truth. About this, at least.”

“Had to happen sometime, I guess,” Terri said, going back into the kitchen and calling out to me over the sound of running water. “Even the sorriest bastard is right every once in a while.”

She came back and handed me a glass of ice water. I took a long drink. “Thank you,” I said, raising the glass to my forehead and resting its coolness against my skin. “This is exactly what I needed. How did you know?”

“I've thrown up enough to know that nothing tastes better afterward than plain old cold water. It's happened more lately. I guess I drink too much. Losing that job hit me hard. And the way it happened set me up as either an idiot or a con artist; no one will hire me now in the news field. They won't even let me fetch them their coffee and donuts. And you've seen the kind of waitress I make.”

“I'm sorry.”

“No need for you to be. You had nothing to do with it. The word came down from Max and that was that.”

I sat back down in the folding chair. “When you slipped me the note in that restaurant, you mentioned revenge. What exactly do you propose to do?”

“I'm not sure. He's in a position of power now. He has all the Others' holdings as well as the Cadre's at his disposal. All nice and legal, I'm afraid, Bob once got a look at some papers on Eduard's desk, designating Max Hunter, aka Steven DeRouchard, as his heir.”

“Who is Bob?”

“Bob Smith, my partner on the show? He at least found a job, doing used car commercials on late night cable. He's a natural.” She sneered a bit. “Bob Smith was the one who brought prestige to the show. I was there to be a little pretty thing. You really don't remember any of this, do you?”

“No,” I admitted. “Feeding brought back a lot of memories for me, but that wasn't one of them.”

“Oh. Speaking of feeding, I'm going to want some lunch soon. Is that going to bother you?”

“No. Unless the food is heavily spiced with something like garlic.”

Terri looked at me in disbelief, then burst out laughing. “Garlic?” she asked when she caught her breath. “That part of the myth is true? You're kidding me, right?”

“Not at all. However, I've always had the aversion, even before I became what I am.” I stopped for a second. “Yes,” I said, smiling with joy at being able to remember a fact so simple, “that's correct. In fact, when we were in Whitby, and I was giving an interview to . . .” I stopped and jumped up from the chair, looking around the apartment frantically. “Where's my bag? Do you have a tape player?”

“Over by the door where you dropped it. And yeah, there's a cassette player in the boom box, it's one of the few things that didn't sell. What's up?”

“I just realized what the tape I found in the pocket of my jeans is all about.” I walked across the room and pulled out the cassette.
“ ‘Voilà!'
as Vivienne would say, here it is. Can we play this?”

“Sure, why not?”

If the earlier part of the day spent with Terri Hamilton seemed surreal, it was nothing compared to hearing the sound of my voice talking with George Montgomery, telling details of my life unremembered until now. For instance, I now recalled the bar Pete and I had owned in London and also The Black Rose in Whitby, the cosy little flat Mitch and I occupied above the bar. Then there was the cabin in Maine I burned down when I thought Mitch had left me for another woman and the confrontation with Eduard DeRouchard in New Orleans and his eventual defeat by Victor. And I remembered Victor, the man I once thought was Max's Renfield. Victor, I smiled as I thought his name. He always made me feel dirty and unkempt. I wondered where he was now, what he was doing. Did he know what had happened to me and the others? Did he care? Or was he really the true power behind the events?

At one point as I told my story on the tape, I'd excused myself and gone to the bathroom while George Montgomery and Mitch carried on a hurried and muffled conversation regarding my health. “Are you sure she's not pregnant?”

“Positive, George. There's no way.”

Hearing Mitch's voice on the tape shocked me, thrilled me down to my very soul. Until this very moment, I hadn't been sure that Max wasn't telling the truth and that Terri, who I now knew had no reason on earth to befriend me, wasn't the one who was lying. The tape, however, was solid and undeniable proof. When I'd finished telling my story, the machine clicked off and tears streamed down my face. Putting a hand up to wipe them away, I saw that they were clear, no longer blood-tinged, no longer an oddity to be hidden from the rest of the world. “Look,” I said to Terri, holding out my hand so that she could see the tears on my fingertips. “They're tears. Regular, normal, everyday tears.”

“So?” She'd grown remarkably quiet while we'd listened to the tape. The fact didn't surprise me; both Mitch and I said some very uncomplimentary things about her and her show. If someone had said those things about me, I would not want to have to hear them played back in my own living room.

“Nothing,” I said. “It means nothing.” I glanced over at her, but she kept her head down and wouldn't meet my eyes. “Terri, what I said on that tape, well, I did not know you then and . . .”

“Goddamn it, Deirdre.” Terri's voice sounded muffled. “What is wrong with you? Didn't you listen?” She turned her face to me then and I saw that she was crying also. “After all the grief I caused you, why the hell should you care about my feelings? All that hardship and pain, and the deaths of vampires you knew—they can be laid right at my doorstep. I'm ashamed of myself for not seeing that what I was doing was wrong. More than wrong, actually. It was criminal. An incitement to murder.”

“But you did not know.”

“The hell I didn't. Do you remember that segment we showed, the one supposedly filmed in London?”

“Ah, yes, I do. Now.”

“That wasn't real, it wasn't even good for God's sake. But I sat at that desk and pretended it was the truth.”

I stared at her for a while, then started to laugh. “Terri, everyone knew it was fake. How on earth did your producers expect people to think it was for real?”

She shrugged. “Eduard wanted it. And I, we, always went along with Eduard. He signed the checks. We did everything he asked us to, as long as the money kept coming in. His death didn't even stop any of it. We had scripts and shows planned for two or three more seasons. And we kept cranking them out, one after another.”

“The true fault lies with Eduard. And he has paid with his life. What you've done for me today, giving me shelter and offering me your blood, more than makes up for your sins.”

“I guess so.”

“It does.” My voice held a tone of finality. “Not only that, but you've given me hope, you've given Mitch back to me. I didn't mention it before, but I saw him last night. Max brought him in to cure me. This man looked exactly like him, spoke like him, but it couldn't have been him.” I paused a second, feeling a slow smile cross my face as the heaviness slipped from my heart. “Of course. Max must've had one of his flunkies impersonate Mitch. Apparently my kind can take the shape of anyone if they concentrate hard enough. I should know, that's how I escaped from the Ballroom. And now I can remember Larry Martin exhibiting that power.”

Terri stood looking at me in confusion. I shook my head. “It doesn't matter. I was just thinking out loud. Now, tell me, does your phone still work? I need to make a call or two if you don't mind. And weren't you going to have some lunch?”

Terri nodded, then pointed to the phone sitting on the floor in the hallway. “Call anyone you want.” All the bounce and the perkiness she'd exhibited earlier seem to drain out of her as she turned and walked slowly into the kitchen.

I tried not to worry about her, though. At this point I needed to focus on what I needed to get out of this city and back to Mitch. First step: calling The Black Rose—perhaps Mitch was still there, waiting for me, searching for me. After all, not that much time had passed. The number I wanted to call came to my mind and fingers easily.
Amazing,
I thought as I dialed the phone,
an hour ago I didn't even know he existed and now I know him and his phone number.

The phone only rang once. “Black Rose Pub,” Pete said.

“Hello, Pete. It's me. Dottie.”

“Dottie, darlin'! Where are you, my dear? And where's everyone else? A fine welcome you were giving me, to come home after that long trip to find the pub dark and locked. Only a little note, no trace of a living creature. Not even the dogs to greet me. And the bar is buzzing with tales of you running off with another man.”

I gave a short laugh. “I'm in New York, Pete. And I didn't run off with another man, I was drugged and kidnapped.”

“No! You don't say. Here in Whitby? Why, I don't believe it.”

“Believe it.”

“Well, and there'd not be a need for you to lie about it. And if you were kidnapped, then I'd expect nothing less of Mitch than to go looking for you. But what happened to Maggie? And the little one?”

Pete still insisted on thinking of Maggie's son, Phoenix, as a small child. He'd actually been twelve or thirteen when we first saw him. “Maggie and Phoenix? They're not there either? None of them are there?”

“Sure, Dottie, and that's what I'm saying. I hoped when I heard your voice, you'd be able to tell me what was happening.”

“Not enough time, Pete. But when everything gets taken care of, I'm sure you'll be hearing from someone. How was the cruise, by the way?”

“Lovely, it was lovely. Too bad the missus is dead. She'd have loved every minute of it.”

“Yes, I'm sure she would have.”

“Are you all right, darlin'? This kidnapper, he didn't hurt you, did he? I'm assuming you escaped, seeing as how you're calling me. Did you call the police?”

“I am fine. He didn't hurt me. Please don't worry about me, Pete. Everything will work out. And tell the story tellers in the pub that I didn't run off with another man. I hope no one told Mitch that story.”

“Ah, well, it was Jim saying it. None of the rest of them paid him any mind. But yeah, he told it to Mitch.”

I sighed, remembering how I'd reacted when I thought he'd gone off with someone else. At least he hadn't burned down the pub. “I have to go now, Pete. I don't want to run up the phone bill here; it's not my place. But I'll speak with you again soon.”

The rest of the afternoon went by slowly. Terri seemed wrapped up in her own little private hell of guilt and nothing I said could convince her she was wrong. Finally, I quit trying to calm her and stretched out on the floor to rest before sundown.

When I woke up, Terri was gone. Before she left, she'd covered me with a blanket and left a note.

“Hi, Deirdre. You sleep like the dead. Ha! I'm going out for a while, but I'm okay. I hope to see you again when I get back. Thanks for everything. Sometimes one needs to have their eyes forced open.”

I folded the note and put it into my pocket. Just as I got to the bathroom to splash water on my face, the front doorbell rang.

“I'm on my way,” I called, smiling. Terri must've forgotten her key. But when I opened the door Victor was standing there. Dressed impeccably as always, he greeted me with a kiss on the cheek. “Deirdre,” he nodded, “I see you recognize me. This is good. Your memory is returning.”

“Victor?” I gestured for him to come in and he did, shutting the door behind him. “How did you know I was here?”

“I had a little talk with an old friend, my dear, and put two and two together. Shall we go?”