Blood Red Dawn (9 page)

W
hen Sam opened the door to me, I could see they were all in high spirits, lounging around the room, drinking coffee. Lily was sitting on the floor by the television, her legs crossed in front of her. Claude had settled in on one of the beds. Vivienne lay curled up on the other and Sam was pacing the room. I nodded to them all and took the large armchair in the corner next to Viv's bed.

“But Vivienne,” Lily said, “you forget. I've seen all the teen slasher movies. What else did I have to do with my time? So I know that separating to find Chris and Mom is like committing suicide. They'll pick us off individually.”

“Lily, my darling girl, there is no they in this situation. Or if there is, then they are us.” Vivienne laughed. “We are the monsters,
ma petit chou,
you must never forget that.”

Lily gave a mock sigh. “And here all the time I thought I'd been cast in the role of the teenage heroine. You know, the one who lives through the movie? Someone's gotta star in the sequel after all.”

“Sequel?” Claude feigned shock. “I was hoping for a nice tidy ending in which everyone gets everything they want and we all live happily ever after.”

“With,” I said, joining the discussion, “the emphasis on the ever after.”

“Can we drop the movie analogies now?” Sam looked uncomfortable, possibly because he was the only one in the room without at least the promise of immortality. “We've got”—he glanced at the bedside clock—“about two hours before we catch the flight to New Orleans. In addition to making our plans, I feel like I need to update all of you.” He gave me a grim look and continued, “On certain recent medical discoveries and how all of this came about.”

“Lecture time from Dr. Sam,” Vivienne said with poorly disguised laughter in her voice, “sit up straight, boys and girls.”

He gave her a scathing look and the smile positively melted from her face.
“Pardon,”
she whispered. “You are right, Sam. We all need to know all that we can.”

He proceeded to tell Lily and Claude what he'd told Vivienne and me back in Whitby of the changes that were taking place in Deirdre. How it seemed she was evolving away from the vampiric and into something that was human and yet different as well. When he got to the part where he surmised her mother might very likely be pregnant, Lily scoffed.

“Yeah, right. The rest of it you might get me to believe; I saw her that last night and we all know how bad she looked. And Mitch can vouch for the fact that her memory was deteriorating. But pregnant? How is it possible that a woman over a century old is capable of producing viable ova? Or that Mitch, even after just a few years of being a vampire, would be capable of fertilizing these?”

Sam shook his head. “I can't explain it, Lily. But why don't you tell me how it's possible that any of you can sit here and talk to me, with your bodies perfectly preserved at the exact moment of transformation? For Mitch and Claude it's not that much of a marvel, I suppose, and not out of the realm of normality. But for you, Lily, it's impossible. And Vivienne?” He shot her a warm smile. “She's a bloody miracle, born in 1719 and not a scratch on her.”

She buffed her nails on her shirt. “Thank you, Sam,
mon cher,
I'm so very glad you noticed.”

“All of you,” Sam's voice raised just a bit, “take your lives for granted. But we're dealing in impossibilities with you all. And the Others? Completely out of the realm of reality. And yet, here you are. And there they are. Chris is alive again due to the Others. You can't doubt the evidence. So why is Deirdre being pregnant such an obstacle?”

Lily looked properly chastened. “I guess, Sam, when you put it that way, it all makes perfect sense. And,” a smile softened her face, “a baby. Yeah, a baby. That fucking rocks. A baby would be wonderful. A sister for me, a niece for Auntie Viv, a daughter for Mitch.”

“Or a son.”

“Oh, foo,” Vivienne said, rolling over and giving my knee a little push. “You already have a son. We'd like a little girl, wouldn't we, Lily?”

Sam cleared his throat. “Before we start reciting the litany in praise of babies, I'd like to say a few more things. It's entirely possible that Deirdre will begin recovering her memory on her own, depending on the circumstances surrounding her. If she is in a familiar place or with a familiar person, as we are surmising she is, wherever and whomsoever that may be, small things will start to trigger flashes. Something as simple as a scent or a touch or just a random phrase can pull back entire events. Unless, and this is a big unless, the person who has her is supplying small doses of the poison to keep the memories muffled. It's entirely possible that if we find her . . .”

I must have made a sound of some sort, because Sam looked over at me and amended his statement.

“. . . when we find her, she won't know any of us. If I had abducted her, I'd keep her as subdued as possible and hidden away. Whoever has her has certainly got to know we will be searching.”

“And,” Vivienne said, her voice soft, “we must not forget that it looks like she is with one of them. One of the Others. It is not a place I'd want to be in if I were with child.”

“Shit.” Lily twisted her mouth into a snarl. “That hadn't even occurred to me. So help me, if he hurts my mother or my sister, I will kill him with my bare hands.”

“I am afraid, it's not that simple, Lily. Mitch and I have good reason to believe that the soul inhabiting Steven DeRouchard's body is none other than our old friend, Max Hunter.”

“If so,” Claude nodded at Vivienne, “he's proved remarkably difficult to kill in the past.”

“And since Deirdre's already killed him once,” my voice sounded agitated and I took a breath to calm myself, “he's likely to be more wary around her this time. It would be my guess that Maggie took off with Chris at his orders. He knew that I'd have to follow her to protect Chris. That way, he could keep me off his trail and out of the picture for a while.”

“Or permanently,” Sam said. “Let's not forget that Maggie is extremely unbalanced right now. She may always have been, I don't know. I would believe her capable of anything; a woman who is willing to kill her own son with a corkscrew is not to be taken lightly.”

“I had a call from her,” I said, “right before Vivienne called.”

“From Maggie? What did she say? How did she sound?”

“Honestly? She sounded totally insane. I asked her where Chris was but all she could say was that she didn't know. She asked me to come after her and confirmed that she was in New Orleans.”

Sam frowned. “I don't like it. Not one bit. Why would she call you and ask for you to find her? It makes no sense.”

I shrugged. “She said something about not being able to do what she needed to do unless I came for her.”

“I don't know, Mitch,” Sam said, “maybe it would be better if you didn't go to New Orleans. It sounds like Maggie's setting you up for something. And I doubt it's anything good.”

“Of course she's setting me up,” I agreed. “Since I first met her that's all she's ever done. And I know she's only a decoy at this point in time, to keep me off the trail of Deirdre. But it doesn't matter, I have to go after her. Chris may be in danger. I can't let anything happen to him. Not now.”

“I know,” Sam said. “Chris has to be our first priority. But I still don't like it. So we'll go to New Orleans, but I'd feel better if you kept a low profile while we're there. Let the rest of us find her.”

I snorted. “Not on your life, Sam.”

He smiled sadly. “Somehow I knew you'd see it that way.”

Viv looked at the clock and sat up, swinging her legs over the side of the bed. “So we're all settled then, no? I still need to pack up a few things before we leave, Sam. Is there anything else we need to know?”

He rubbed his fingers over his eyes and made a small groaning sound. “Yes. There is.” I gave him a nod of encouragement, knowing what he was reluctant to say.

“None of you have asked how all of this happened. How did the Others just happen to find a poison that could wreak such havoc on the vampires of the world?”

“Does it make a difference,
mon chou?”
She walked to the closet, began folding clothes and packing them. “Obviously they found some stooge, a doctor or research person, to study the situation. Money would have been no object, they had all of the Others' funds at their command as well as the holdings of the entire Cadre. They probably provided him with money and materials and equipment, set him up a nice little lab somewhere with coolers brimming with little bagged blood samples and . . .” She broke off her statement and stared at him from across the room, the truth growing in her eyes. “Oh, no. It can't be that, can it? Sam? Please tell me that I am wrong.”

“No, Vivienne, I can't tell you that. It's true, all of it. My terrible secret. And the fact that I had no idea my research would be used against you all”—he gestured around the room—“doesn't make it any less terrible. Or any less of a betrayal. But,” his voice broke, “you must all know that I meant no harm to Deirdre, no harm to any of you.”

The room was totally silent. I rose from the chair; his statement was less of a shock for me since I'd heard it before. He'd never given me reason to doubt his sincerity and his trustworthiness for a moment the whole time we'd known each other and I didn't doubt him now. I valued him too much to not let the others know exactly how I felt. So I walked over to Sam and pulled him into a rough embrace. “Forget about it,” I said gruffly. “What's done is done. You shouldn't beat yourself up. We'll need you in good shape to fix everything once this is all resolved.”

I could almost feel their collective relief. After all, if I wasn't upset with him over this betrayal, none of them should be. Vivienne still seemed disturbed, but she'd adjust to the idea. That's what she was best at, adapting. And really, some of the blame, if there needed to be blame, was hers. She'd been right there and even assisted Sam with his research. I walked over to her, gave her a quick kiss on the cheek and she brightened up.

After that, everyone began to prepare for the upcoming flight. The timing was a bit tricky on this leg of the trip, since most of the flights to New Orleans took off in the daylight. The one Vivienne had booked had a departure time about forty-five minutes after sunset, but that didn't allow us much time to get through the airport.

Still, we all boarded in time and in a little over three hours we'd touched down in New Orleans. From there it was another wait for luggage and then a dispute at the taxi stop.

“Why do we all have to stay at the hotel?” Lily sounded tired and more than a little petulant. “My house isn't all that far away and it's free. Besides, I'd like to see if Victor's come back. We've all been so worried about Chris and Mom that we've forgotten all about him.”

“I haven't forgotten him,” I said, “and I'd like to talk to Victor anyway. I suspect he knows where Max is.”

“How could he know that, Mitch?”

“Don't you remember, Lily, about telling us how he'd been talking to Max one night? We all thought he'd lost it, or was pretending to have lost it, but what if he really did speak with Max?”

“Hmmm.” She thought for a moment. “I'd never even considered that he really had talked to Max. It was one of his bad days and he just rambled on and on. I didn't hear another voice in the conversation.”

“But Other children have no voice and he may not have been totally transformed then.”

“Excellent point, Mitch.” Vivienne smiled at me. “This isn't a problem, anyway. We'll go to Lily's place first and there's still plenty of time to check in at the Hotel of Souls.”

“Finding Victor might very well solve everything and it would certainly make me feel better. I miss the old bastard.” Lily waved a cab over for us, looked at Claude and shrugged, then waved for another. “Why don't you and Sam and Vivienne take the first cab, Mitch? Claude and I will follow.” She opened the passenger side of our cab and gave the driver her address.

We rode in silence, each of us deep in our own thoughts. I would rather have gone straight to the hotel. Lily's house held bad memories for me. But we needed to stay together.

Vivienne sat still for most of the ride, her head back on the seat, her eyes closed. Sam kept opening his mouth as if to say something, then seemed to think better of it.

We were maybe two blocks from our destination, when Vivienne opened her eyes and took Sam's hand in hers, bringing it up to her face.

“What?” he said, a half-smile on his face.

“Nothing,
mon chou,
I merely wanted to let you know I was still here. For you. With you. And that there is no place I would rather be.”

She kissed him then, full on the lips. I turned away and watched out the window.

L
ily's house was dark when we arrived. We waited around outside for a few minutes until she and Claude showed up. When she got out of the cab, she had a disgruntled look on her face and reached into her bag for the keys. “I don't think Victor's here, somehow. He doesn't really need light, but he will normally turn them all on anyway.” She chuckled. “One of his more endearing qualities.”

Still, when she opened the door, she called for him. “Victor? Hey, you old coot, are you here?”

We didn't need the silence that followed to tell us the house was unoccupied. Empty houses have a certain feel to them.

We all dropped our bags in the living room. “Excuse the mess,” Lily said, “I'm not much of a housekeeper and I left in a hurry. Let's go into the kitchen. I'll make us a cup of tea or something. And I'll make a phone call and see if I can round up Angelo.”

I remembered Angelo well. Too well. He'd cut off the hand of the man he'd procured for me to feed on while I was prisoner here. Quite by accident, really, but totally avoidable. The complete lack of concern he showed in the situation cinched my opinion of Angelo. He was a snake, not to be trusted. An obscene excuse for a human being who'd cut off your hand gleefully if it served his purpose. Lily read the expression on my face.

“I know, Mitch, I know. He's impossible to deal with. And you of all people have good reason to distrust him. For that matter, though, you also have good reason to distrust me. And you don't, do you?”

“Not anymore. I know you better now.”

“And I know Angelo, probably better than anyone, especially since Moon died. He's self-serving and manipulative, but he's also the eyes and ears of this city, more than anyone else I've ever known. If something interesting or out of the ordinary happens, Angelo is the first to know. And if anyone can help us find Maggie and Chris and maybe even Deirdre, it'll be 'Lo. I'm afraid you'll have to trust him, just a little.”

“I'll trust you, Lily. Is that good enough?”

“It'll have to do, I guess.” She opened the cupboard under the sink, then banged the door shut. “Damn, there's nothing in here to drink. I'll have a hard time convincing him to help without something liquid and alcoholic to hurry along his cooperation.”

“I'll go out and get some, Lily,” Claude volunteered. “Brandy, right?”

“Yeah. Either that or some Mad Dog. Whatever you can find. Thanks.”

The rest of us sat down at the kitchen table and Lily smiled over at us. “Home sweet home,” she said. “I know it's not much, but I'm happy to be here at least. I just wish Victor had been home.” She put a tea kettle on the stove and turned the burner on. “I worry about him. Stupid of me, I know. Compared to him, we're all children. Which, I guess, is as it should be, since we
are
his children. He's the eldest, you know. And maybe the very first. I've never been able to get the story out of him, the hows and whys and wherefores, but I'm pretty sure he's the original deal. It's gotta be an amazing story.”

Rummaging around in one of the cupboards, Lily produced a couple of cans of loose tea and some mugs. She measured the tea into a tea pot that had been sitting in the dish strainer and set the mugs in front of us. “And he has such a depth of sadness in him, surpassed only by his capacity for caring. It would be a great loss to all of us, and maybe to the rest of the world, if he were gone for good.”

She wiped away a tear. “Sorry. I get silly about that old man. And I know he's somewhere still. There are times when I feel him inside my mind. He's still pulling our strings. And loving every minute of it.”

Vivienne reached over and patted Lily's hand. “You are right, Lily. I've felt for years that Victor was in control. And I'm sure he's fine. No one has lived as long as he has without perfecting the preservation instinct. So no more tears,
ma cher.
Make your phone call and then you can show us your charming house.”

“Not all that charming, Vivienne.” Lily picked up the receiver from the wall phone and began dialing. “It's certainly not large enough for a full-fledged tour, is it, Mitch?”

“True. But you should see what she has tucked away in one of the bedrooms.”

“Now that sounds promising,” Vivienne turned to Sam who hadn't said a word since we arrived. “Does it not, Sam?”

“Yeah, I suppose so.”

“Sam,” I tried to meet his eyes over the table. “It's okay. No one here is upset about your role in this whole thing.”

“Except me,” he said quietly. “I've built my life around a solid desire to do some good, to help people in trouble. I'm not used to being a destructor. There must be something I could do to make it up to her and to all of you. Open a vein, maybe?”

“Staying alive and ready to help out would be the best option. Honest.”

“Rudy?” Lily's phone call must have connected finally. “Hi, it's Lily.” She paused and laughed. “Yeah, yeah, I know. Just like a bad penny. Say, have you seen Angelo around lately?” The kettle gave a shrill whistle and we all jumped. She cradled the phone between her shoulder and her ear, still talking while moving the kettle off of the stove and pouring the water into the teapot she'd prepared earlier. The room filled with an herbal aroma and Vivienne sniffed appreciatively. “Okay, well, when he comes in, tell him I'm home. And that I need to see him.” Lily laughed again. “Yeah, for sure, I know exactly how he is. But make sure he knows that if he doesn't find me, I
will
find him.”

She hung up the phone, shaking her head. “Fine. Now while we're waiting for the tea to steep, let's take that little tour.”

There wasn't all that much to see. Lily's bedroom, still decorated from her teenage years. A small bathroom. “And this”—Lily said, opening the last door—“used to be Moon's room.”

“And for a while,” I said, giving Lily a smile, “it was my room.”

Vivienne seemed very interested in the holding tank. “I understand this is exactly like the ones Victor had built in Cadre headquarters?”

Lily nodded. “Down to every last detail. Except for one thing. Victor built a few secret safeguards that only he knew about in the others. This one has none of those. Unless the door is opened, the person or vampire or whatever staying within is completely incarcerated.” She gave a twisted smile, “Even Harry Houdini couldn't have gotten out of this one.”

“Take my word for it, Viv,” I said, “it's fully functional.”

“But,” Sam asked, examining the dials and controls that regulated air intake and the speakers, “why is it still here?”

Lily gave an uneasy laugh. “Victor wanted me to keep it intact and functional. Just in case. And periodically he'd sleep in there. Don't ask me why; the whole idea gives me the willies. He always said it was very peaceful.”

I laughed. “Yeah, I guess it would be, at least as long as you know someone's going to let you out.”

Lily gave the tank one last look and turned out the light. She walked out of the room and waited for all of us to leave, then closed the door and went back to the kitchen. Vivienne, Sam, and I settled in around the kitchen table again. Lily fussed with the teapot on the counter. “There were times,” she said, “when I thought of leaving him in there, days and nights when it seemed he'd completely lost his mind.” She shrugged, checked the tea, and poured out four mugs, “You know, I love him and I miss him, but there are times he scares the ever-loving shit out of me.”

Vivienne picked up her mug, inhaling the aromatic steam. “What is this, Lily?”

“Moon's special serenity blend. Catnip, lemon balm, and just a touch of lavender. It's too bad she's dead. For many reasons, actually, most of them incredibly selfish on my part.” She sat down at the table with us, her hands wrapped tightly around the warmth of her mug, a wistful expression on her face. “But right now because she'd just be tickled to see who was sitting at her kitchen table.”

“Oh, she can see all right, Lily. Don' you worry none ‘bout that.” Recognizing the voice, I turned in my seat to stare over at Angelo, standing in the kitchen doorway, framed by the huge bulk of Claude behind him. He flinched slightly as my eyes met his and tried to retreat, but Claude gave him an ungentle nudge in the small of his back and Angelo shot forward, laughing uneasily.

“Good to see you again, Mr. Greer.” I half-expected to see him wring his hands, instead he slumped down just a bit and nodded his head. “No hard feelings from last time we met, I hope.”

“None at all, Angelo. You almost did me a favor, since the circumstances were the only reasons Lily would let me out. I can't afford to dwell on the past, anyway, so you have no worries on my account.”

“Good, good.” He looked at Vivienne and gave a broad smile. “Very pleased to see you again, missy. Always with a handsome man, always the same strong heart. Solved your problem from last time we met?”

“Oui,
Angelo. That I did.” She laid a hand on Sam's arm. “And this is Dr. John Samuels. Sam, this is Angelo. You've heard a lot about him.”

“Mostly good stuff, this one hopes.” Angelo reached out a hand to greet Sam who seemed rather surprised at the strength of his handshake. Angelo looked frailer than he was.

Claude moved into the kitchen and handed Lily a brown paper bag. Angelo's eyes hungrily followed the exchange. “As chance would have it,” Claude explained, “he was lounging around the liquor store when I got there.”

“Not chance,” Angelo watched hungrily as Lily broke the seal on the bottle. She poured some into an empty jelly jar and he reached for the drink. “Thanks much, Lily. It never be chance. I feel you back in town, Lily girl. And feel your need in the night air. The spirits, they whispering to me, always whispering.” He drained his drink in one swallow and set the glass down on the counter. “Now let me have a good look at you, Lily. You changed some since last we spoke, round 'bout the time that Greg man end up with the nickname of Lefty.” Angelo gave a long, wheezing laugh, shot me a quick glance, and grew serious again. “But you, Lily, you no longer a little girl, are you? More like the dark queen of the night.”

Lily's mouth twisted. “Yeah, right, Angelo. Whatever you say.”

“No,” Angelo pulled himself up straighter and laid both of his hands on Lily's cheeks. “There be a strength deep down inside you that weren't there before. I glad to see it, Lily child. And Moon, she be so proud of how you become what you should be.”

She filled his glass again and handed it to him, turning away quickly, but not before I caught the gleam of unshed tears in her eyes. “It's not as if I had a choice in the matter, 'Lo. So let's drop it, okay?”

He nodded to her and then to the rest of us. “There always a choice. Always.” Angelo drained his glass again, giving a loud belch when he'd finished. “Pardon,” he said. “So, the fine Claude man here tell me you need some information from ol' bow-legged 'Lo. That true?”

“We're looking for a woman and her son. My son. She's tall, with dark curly hair, green eyes, very pretty. And the boy is about twelve or so, but might seem older.”

“Your son?” Angelo gave me a questioning look. “I thought you married Lily's mam and had only one child from before. And they say he be dead many years now.”

“They?”

“The spirits whisper, Mitch. I only listen.”

I was beginning to lose what little patience I had for the man. I reached out and gripped the front of his shirt. “And what do the spirits whisper of the Others, Angelo?”

“Your son one of they?” He shook himself out of my hands. “That a powerful magic at work. And the woman one of they, too. Only female and a Breeder, eh?”

“Exactly. Have you seen her?”

He pursed his lips. “Maybe I see her. Maybe I don'. Either way, there be payment needed for getting into it with such as they.”

“How much, Angelo?” Lily sounded almost as frustrated as I felt.

“We ol' friends, Lily. I don' cheat ol' friends. Five hun'red be good enough for me.”

“I have it,” Vivienne got up from the table and went to her bag in the hallway. When she came back, she handed Angelo five crisp hundred dollar bills. “Payment,” she said, “but if what you say isn't worth the price,
mon chou,
be prepared to give it back in trade.”

“Trade?” Angelo voice cracked slightly as he stuffed the bills into his pants pocket. His eyes darted around the room, as if searching for escape. Finally though he looked back at her, giving a slight shiver as he caught the full brunt of her gaze. “Trade? What trade?”

Vivienne didn't say a word. She merely smiled, exposing her fangs and licked her lips.

Angelo got the message. “That woman is down in the French Quarter right now. I see her go into her little house earlier, a pretty house with wisteria crawling all 'bout it. But she not pretty, nor do she have an eye for pretty. I see into her soul as she pass me on the street and she crazy, blood red crazy and hungry for death. She walkin' with murder and death wrote all over her. But the boy, he ain't with her. No sign nor scent of him.”

“Can you take us to her?” I asked.

He laughed, a croaking, wheezing sound that seemed to explode from his throat. “I show you, sure. Why you so bound and determined to see her, I can't even figure. But I show you only from a distance. Me, why I already been close enough to her to last me the rest of my life.”

“Thank you, Angelo,” Lily said, handing him another glass of brandy. “That'll be fine. For now.”