Blood Will Tell (38 page)

“I guess when I quit drinkin', my mind cleared up,” said Sanford. “Sanfords and Callahans were always good friends up to my generation. ‘Sides, I figger it's wrong to blame the judge here for what his daddy mighta done."

Stunned, Brandy and Dan continued out into the ballroom, where they took the opportunity of a turn about the floor to speak in relative privacy. “Influence!” Brandy hissed into Dan's ear. “It has to be!"

“But Doc's immune to influence,” he responded. “At least to mine. Could that be because he was already under Callahan's influence?"

“Why would Callahan let him go on speaking against him for all those years?” Brandy wondered. Then it struck her. “Dan—try to get a really good look at Doc. Two weeks ago he was a wreck. Suddenly he's healthy and fit.” She remembered Doc squinting against the sun in the courtroom.

“You think Callahan's turned him into a vampire? It's all I can think of to account for it,” Dan agreed. “You don't suppose Doc actually got something on the judge?"

“Maybe. Or maybe breaking into the judge's chambers was just the last straw. Doc is dangerous to us, now."

“I know,” Dan agreed. “Right now, though, we'd better look as if we're having a good time. Come on—there's Dr. Randall. Have you ever met him?” Dr. Randall was the university president.

Had Dan and Brandy been inclined to become social butterflies, approaching Dr. Randall and his wife would have been the perfect move. In the next forty minutes they were introduced to several members of the board of regents, two state legislators, the CEO of the largest company in Murphy, and numerous prominent citizens.

It was too cold for the doors to the garden to be open, but rooms at both ends of the ballroom were available, one a bar, one a buffet, one a smoking room, one just a place to sit and talk. Once they escaped from more introductions, Dan and Brandy looked for Doc Sanford. Making the rounds of the rooms required more polite conversations. Finally Dan looked at his watch. “Doc probably left while we were stuck here,” he said. “If we're right, he won't have much control over the Craving yet. He's probably gone to feed."

When he mentioned it, Dan's own Craving increased. Brandy wanted desperately to satisfy it. “Let's get that manuscript, and then get out of here,” she said.

They made their way around the edge of the ballroom, and emerged under the great staircase. Brandy could sense Dan using his influence to keep the woman checking coats occupied with a couple that was leaving. When all three had their backs to them, Dan and Brandy slipped quietly into the parlor opposite. A door led through the breakfast room into a hallway lined with doors. One was the door to the cellar.

There was only a token lock; a credit card quickly slid the bolt back, and they were through and down the stairs with no one the wiser. At the bottom they turned left into the office, laid out just as Dan had said. The computer was humming, its monitor turned off, just as Dan left his in his university office. The copy machine stood on the worktable. Brandy was wearing gloves that matched her gown; she turned the copier on to warm up, and took a peek inside to make sure it was loaded with paper.

Dan didn't need gloves to avoid leaving fingerprints. “Look,” he said softly. Amidst the clutter on the shelves, there was an empty space the size of a filing box, revealing the combination lock to the safe room.

Brandy's instinct said,
Wrong
! But as long as they had come this far—

Brandy had made sure there was no separate alarm from this lock to the police department. The safety device inside, in case someone cut the power, was a cellular telephone. Unless Judge Callahan lay in wait for them inside the safe room, no alarm would sound.

Swallowing with difficulty, Brandy said, “Go ahead."

Dan pulled the lock-breaking device from his inside jacket pocket. A trill of beeps sounded—and the lights on the lock blinked in rapid succession. There was a click, and a panel of shelves slid inward.

The safe room was dimly lit, and the door opened only about eighteen inches. At first Brandy could see nothing. Dan stepped through, and she followed.

The light was dim because it came from candles, dozens of them, in all shapes and sizes. Fewer than a quarter of the candles were lit, though, so it took a few moments for Brandy's eyes to adjust. She became aware of shapes, not the smooth surfaces and sharp angles of the modern outer office, but ancient warped wood, blobby wax, and round but ragged ends of scrolls—the very stereotype of an alchemist's den.

When Brandy took a step forward she realized Dan had stopped, his night vision giving him immediately the scene that Brandy was only slowly taking in. In the middle of the room loomed something that seemed to change shape as the candle flames flickered in the draft from the open door. She could not make it out at first, some kind of bench or—altar—and upon it a—figure—

Someone lay on the altar, a composition in black and white. A man in a tuxedo. It was Dr. Troy Sanford, lying on his back with his hands crossed on his chest. There was an utterly peaceful smile on his face. He was absolutely serene, indescribably old—and undeniably dead.

Chapter Seventeen—Secrets of the Numen

Dan instinctively tried to turn Brandy away from the gruesome sight. She pushed past him. “I've seen a hell of a lot more corpses than you have. Let me examine him."

There was no use searching for vital signs, but she performed the routine anyway to get her mind functioning again. By the time she was finished, she was able to turn from the desiccated corpse and say, “Harvested."

“Are you sure?” Dan asked hoarsely.

She stared at him in disbelief, but then remembered, “You never saw Dr. Land's body. I did. I'll never forget."

Dan nodded. Attuned, she felt the sickness within him, so strong it obliterated even his Craving.

Sanford had died peacefully, but all the life, all the vigor he had shown only an hour ago was gone. He looked terribly old, but not the way he had on his drunken binge. Then he had been bloated, sloppy. Now his body looked like a mummy's, the skin tight over shrunken flesh beneath. Even his hair seemed whiter and thinner than an hour ago.

“It's a trap,” Dan said flatly. “Callahan knew every step we took. The manuscript isn't here."

“Oh, but it is.” Just like in the movies, the voice came from behind them. Judge Callahan stood in the doorway, holding a scroll. “Read it if you can,” he added, handing the brittle object to Brandy.

She accepted it but set it aside, waiting for Callahan's next move and desperately wishing for her gun.

“A gun would do you no good, my dear,” said Callahan.

“It would if I blew your head off,” she told him, trying to convince herself that he had seen her aborted reach toward what wasn't there rather than that he had read her mind. If a Numen could read minds—

“I do have limited telepathic ability,” he once again answered her thought. “I've been following you, Brandy, through your link with Dan here."

Dan lunged at that, fangs extended, eyes glowing red.

Callahan merely waved his hand. Dan stumbled back, fangs retracting, his face a portrait of disbelief.

“No, my wayward young vampire, you shall not feed until I give you permission!” Callahan told him. “If I decide to give you permission."

Brandy forced herself to silence—but she could not control her churning thoughts. With his best political smile the judge said, “Yes, that's right: if he does not feed before sunrise, he will die in the light of the sun."

Dan sat, dazed, on the edge of the altar which bore Doc Sanford's body. Again Brandy refused to respond to Callahan. To contain her thoughts, she clenched her hands until her nails dug into her palms.

“You love him?” asked Callahan. “I will tell you a secret—it's in that document if you could read it. Your lover need not die at dawn, even if he hasn't fed. As long as he remains out of the sunlight, he can remain alive indefinitely, growing weaker while his Craving grows stronger. But if he is released—he will kill."

“Dan won't kill me!"

Callahan smiled, and put out his hand. To Brandy's horror, her hand lifted automatically, and he took it, opening her fingers to expose the bloody palm. Dan gasped, but remained frozen.

“Ah, my dear,” said Callahan, “I will not allow Dan to kill you. I have other plans for you.” He lapped the blood from her hand. All pain instantly stopped.

Callahan turned her hand over and kissed the back of it. “We have formed a connection. I must return to my guests. After they have departed, you and I will prepare for our journey. Say your farewells to your erstwhile lover. If you are very good to me, Brandy, I shall allow you to take a keepsake of your lost love."

He turned to Dan. “Hand over that electronic lock pick."

Brandy felt Dan's resistance. Callahan moved majestically to his side, touched Dan's shoulder, and Brandy's fiancé sat paralyzed while the judge removed the instrument from his pocket.

Callahan backed through the narrow doorway and closed the panel. Dan remained in trance. Brandy shook him. “Dan!” He blinked and frowned, but at last his eyes focused on hers. “Do you know where you are, who I am?"

“Brandy,” he whispered.

“Thank God. Now, first order is for you to feed, get your strength back. Then we get out of here."

“Can't—feed,” he told her. “So—hungry."

“Of course you are. But I'm here for you."

He panted as if the air were thin, but his fangs did not extend. “Here!” said Brandy, raising her left hand, the one Callahan had not contaminated. Dan licked the drops of blood eagerly. The tiny wounds closed.

Dan moaned. His Craving overwhelmed both of them.

Brandy was carrying an envelope purse into which they had intended to put the photocopies of the Numen manuscript. Therefore it was almost empty. Comb, lipstick, face powder—keys! She tried to cut her hand with the sharpest one.

It hurt far worse than she expected, and Dan gasped with her pain. “Don't,” he said.

“I have to. You need strength to fight Callahan."

“It's no good,” he said. “Trying to feed only increases the pain."

“I won't let you die!” she told him, but stopped trying to draw blood and turned instead to finding the cellular telephone that was supposed to be in the safe room. She'd call 911—and then Church, just in case a Callahan henchman was in the dispatcher's chair tonight.

Although her eyes had adjusted to the dim light, the corners of the room remained in shadow. The phone ought to be near the door. She picked up a candle and began lighting the ones around the entranceway. It didn't take long to find the empty cradle where the cellular telephone belonged.

“I should've known,” she said in disgust. “Come on, Dan Let's figure a way out of here."

“He's too strong for us to fight."

“Nonsense!” said Brandy. “You could break that door down."

“Perhaps, on another night,” he conceded.

“Tonight, as soon as you've fed. Ordinary teeth can draw blood, Dan. Bite me, drink my blood, and we're outa here!” She held out her hand, showing the blue veins.

He shook his head. “He consumed your blood. He has put his mark on you, Brandy. You are forbidden to me."

“That's nonsense!” she said, trying to ignore the inner voice that queried why she had thought the word “contamination” in connection with Callahan's touch.

She knew Dan was right.

How did she know Dan was right?

And for that matter, how did Dan know the “why” of what was happening?

“Dan!” she gasped. “It works both ways!"

“What are you talking about?"

“Callahan said we had formed a connection. He could read my mind. But you and I can also read his."

“I never could before,” Dan denied. “I worked with him all summer and never even knew I'd met him before I came to the university."

“But you're not suppressing that knowledge anymore. You and I have been reading each other's minds since we met. It started before you first fed from me."

“Our perfect match,” he said in something like awe. “That's what allowed me to escape his control. Callahan is trying to break it, Brandy."

“He can't. But he's connected to both of us now. Don't you see—that increases our ability to follow what he's doing!"

Dan's dark eyes unfocused, and for a moment Brandy feared that Callahan was influencing him. But no, Dan was trying to read Callahan. “He's telling the caterers to close the bar and the buffet, so people will leave. He's going to disappear after tonight!"

Suddenly Dan was back with her, looking straight at Brandy as he said in astonishment, “I saw his plan! He doesn't care about the next audit. He's been transferring funds since the last one, money he's been stashing for years against this day. This afternoon, before the fund raiser, he moved his personal funds into Caribbean Enterprises, as well as all the money from the tickets to this affair."

“He'll be caught,” said Brandy.

“He'll be gone. He'll be—dead.” Dan jumped up. “The chemicals are here! Ammonium nitrate and fuel oil."

“You're a bomb expert, too?"

“Callahan is. There's a tank of fuel oil on the grounds, and of course a farm has ammonia fertilizer. He plans to blow up the house when he leaves."

Dan was right, Brandy knew—she had studied bombs at the Police Academy. ANFO, ammonium nitrate and fuel oil, was one of the commonest incendiary mixes.

“You think Callahan intends Doc Sanford's body to be identified as his?"

“One of us, anyway. He may make it appear that Doc tried to kill Callahan and got caught in his own bomb."

“He may intend to,” Brandy corrected. “He won't get away with it. Dan, what are you doing?"

He had picked up a candelabrum to search the nooks and crannies. “If he has the chemicals down here, we might be able to blow the door open."

“Dan—we'd smell them in this small space. More likely they're in the storage room."

Nevertheless, she joined the search. There were no modern containers in the place. Jars of oils, spices, herbs, and incense occupied a wicker bookcase. They might start one hell of a fire, but it wouldn't burn that metal door. It would sear their lungs and kill Brandy—and even a vampire would die if the fire reduced his body to ashes.