Crave (11 page)
Authors: Karen E. Taylor
“What?” Chris lifted his head and looked around. “What happened? Who won?”
“Don't ask.” Mitch took hold of his arm and helped him to his feet. “Let's get you in a cab and home to bed.”
“Skunked you again, huh, Dad?” We moved him out of the pool room and into the bar. “That's what you get for playing with a vampire.”
“Shut up, Chris.”
“Night,” George called from the bar. “See you later.”
“Hey, George,” Chris called, “you didn't know that my stepmother was a vampire, did you?”
“Yeah, Chris, I think you told me that after your third beer. Go home and sleep it off.”
Chapter 13
C
hris muttered about vampires most of the way home. We didn't try to quiet him; his drunken condition was fairly apparent. The cab driver snickered every so often when Chris's voice grew loud, but for the most part he was concentrating on the road and not on his passengers. I had always been amused by the protection of people's disbeliefs even when I'd thought I was close to the only one of my kind. And now that I knew the city was the headquarters for an international society of vampires, it amused me even more. If they only knew.
hris muttered about vampires most of the way home. We didn't try to quiet him; his drunken condition was fairly apparent. The cab driver snickered every so often when Chris's voice grew loud, but for the most part he was concentrating on the road and not on his passengers. I had always been amused by the protection of people's disbeliefs even when I'd thought I was close to the only one of my kind. And now that I knew the city was the headquarters for an international society of vampires, it amused me even more. If they only knew.
Yes, I thought and sobered slightly, if they only knew, they'd be after the Cadre in no time at all, armed with stakes, holy water, garlic, and crosses. Not that anything but the first would do any good, the rest were common superstition. Or possibly not, for with the revelation of new powers, almost anything could be true.
Chris wasn't talking when we finally arrived at Mitch's old apartment building. Instead, he was sleeping soundly, his head lolled on the back of the seat, his mouth hanging open slightly.
I caught Mitch's eye. “Maybe I'll just wait here with the cab while you take him in.”
“Fine,” he agreed. He opened the back door and halfdragged, half-carried Chris out, up the front stairs and into the building.
The cab driver turned around and winked at me. “Your friend's got a real snootfull. I wouldn't want to be living inside his head tomorrow morning.”
“No,” I smiled and settled back into the seat to wait for Mitch's return, “I wouldn't either.”
“What's his problem, anyway? All this talk about vampires?”
I shrugged when I saw Mitch coming back down the stairs. “You wouldn't believe me if I told you.”
“No,” the driver said as Mitch got back into the cab, “I probably wouldn't. Where to now, folks?”
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Almost without thinking, I told the driver my old address. “Righto,” he said and we started off.
Mitch gave me a questioning look. “I don't want to go back to the Imperial, my love, I've had enough of that place for one night. But you may go back if you like.”
“Why would I want to go back without you, Deirdre? There's nothing there for me.”
“Nothing?” My voice was sharp, distant.
He laughed. “I thought you weren't jealous anymore.”
I shook my head. “I'm not jealous of her so much as of the entire situation. You love the life, the environment, and the possibilities. Sometimes I feel like I'm holding you back.”
He thought for a long time, staring out the cab window. As we were nearing the hotel, he spoke. “It's not love, Deirdre, not really. It's pretty close to a morbid fascination and a desire to push everything to the limits. Quite frankly, I don't understand it myself.”
The taxi pulled up to the front door. I touched his arm lightly. “I think I do, Mitch, but we can talk about it later. Just for fun, why don't we see if my old room is free?”
The driver turned around and accepted his fare. “Lady, nothing in this city is free.”
“So true,” I said to him as I got out of the cab. “Everything has its price.”
Mitch put his arm around me and we went through the revolving door and over to the desk. “May I help you?” I didn't know the clerk at the desk, he was young and awkward.
“Well, yes, I hope so. Can you tell me if room 2154 is available?”
The clerk seemed to be startled by the request and looked uneasily around him. “I just got here so I don't know for sure. Let me check, okay?”
I nodded and he turned. “Hey, Frank,” he called toward the half-open door behind him, “there's someone here asking whether 2154 is open.”
“What?” He came out of the door and saw me, his face turned pale for a second and then he smiled. “Miss Griffin?” He came around the front desk toward us. “Miss Griffin, oh, my God, it is you. This is really strange that you should come back tonight.” His arms came up as if to hug me and then dropped as he seemed to remember his place. “Sorry,” he said sheepishly, “it's just that it's been so long and it's so good to see you.”
I laughed. “It's nice to see you, too, Frank.” I reached up and gave him a light kiss on the cheek. “But why should it be strange? I lived here for almost ten years, it's only natural that I come back to visit if I'm in the city, isn't it?”
“Well, yeah, I guess so, but that's not what's strange.” He looked over at Mitch for the first time.
“Frank, this is my husband. Mitchell Greer.”
“Pleased to meet you,” Frank shook his hand. “Say, I remember you. So you two got married, huh? Congratulations.”
“Thanks,” Mitch said. “You have a good memory. I wasn't here all that often.”
“Often enough,” Frank started, “I mean before you showed up Miss Griffin never had any visitors . . .”
“Thank you, Frank,” I interrupted him after taking a glance over my shoulder at the outside sky. I'd lost track of the time, but knew that dawn was close. “We're tired, and we'd like to check in immediately if you don't mind. We'll have time to get reacquainted later.”
Instantly his years of subservience resurfaced. He was no longer an old friend, but an old servant. “Oh, yes, of course. Sorry to keep you waiting.” He motioned to the young man behind the desk. “Get the keys for 2154, Eddie, and let Mr. and Mrs. Greer sign in.”
Eddie reached under the counter and came up with two sets of keys, laid them on the counter next to the register and handed Mitch a pen. While he was completing the needed information, Frank turned to me. “I'll see you up to the room. Where's your luggage?”
“We don't have any luggage,” Mitch said, turning around and walking with us to the elevator. “We left it at, um, a friend's house.”
“Fine,” Frank said, “that makes it easier then, doesn't it? But I'll still take you upstairs, if you don't mind. Personal service is what we're known for here.”
After we'd gotten on the elevator and the doors closed, he reached into his pocket, extracting a small white envelope. “This,” he said, holding it out to me, “is why it was strange to see you tonight. Someone left this on the front desk earlier this evening; no one saw him come in and no one saw him leave. All of a sudden there was this envelope with your name and number, like it had appeared out of nowhere.” He laughed nervously. “It spooked the hell out of Eddie and I was having quite a time trying to figure out how I was going to get it to you.”
“I'm sure you were.” I accepted the envelope and stared down at it, barely controlling the impulse to crumple it in my hand and throw it to the floor. I knew the handwriting and could sense the hurried desperation that drove the pen, but the recognition did nothing to quell my nervousness. How could he have known I'd planned to come here? “I'm sure you were. Thank you, Frank.”
“No problem, but it was real fortunate that you decided to show up tonight. What a coincidence, huh?”
Mitch snorted. I caught his eye and gave him a smile, remembering his theory on the subject, remembering with amusement the moments when his human mind had struggled with the inhuman and came up frustrated and confused.
“Coincidence?” he said with a catch of laughter in his throat, “there's no such thing.”
“No?” Frank said as the elevator stopped, holding the doors open for us to pass through. “Maybe just luck then?”
I looked at the black writing one more time and slapped the damn thing up against my thigh. “Luck?” Shaking my head, I watched Mitch open the door to my old suite of rooms. “I wouldn't count on it, Frank, but thank you for thinking it.”
Dropping the envelope on an end table in the sitting area of the suite, I looked around me. The furnishings were the same, but had grown shabbier over the years that I'd been gone. It made me feel old. But Mitch seemed very much at home and moved to the bar, slowly, idly checking inside the refrigerator. Frank came in after us and made a move to open the curtains. “Leave them closed, please,” I stopped him, my voice harsh. “I suspect we'll want some rest.”
“Whatever you say, Miss Griffin. You're the boss.”
“Thanks, Frank,” Mitch walked over to him, and handed him a tip. “We'll be fine now.”
“Thank you, and sleep well. I'll be going off duty soon,” he said, checking his watch, “but Charlie, he's the day guy now, will be on. Call him if you need anything.”
When we were finally alone in the room, I sighed.
“Glad to be home again, Deirdre?”
“This is not my home, anymore. I have no home.” I stared at the end table holding the envelope.
“Well, aren't you curious about who sent that? Aren't you going to open it?”
“It can't be good news.”
“No, but the sooner we know, the sooner we can deal with whatever it is. You never used to be so cautious, Deirdre.”
“I've always been cautious, Mitch.” Then I met his eyes and smiled. “Except where you were involved. I do love you.”
“I know you do.” He walked across the room and picked up the envelope. Some of my wariness must have influenced him, he acted as if the thing could bite him. “Want me to open it?”
“If you'd like.”
“Well, I'm sure not going to go to sleep with it unopened. It'll make me crazy.”
“We don't want that to happen now, do we? Yes, open it. Besides, I already know who sent it. Which,” I laughed humorlessly, “is why I know it can't be good news.”
He slid his finger under the flap, pulling out the single sheet of paper. He unfolded it, read it once, twice, then held it out to me. “It's from Larry Martin.”
“Of course.” I took the page from him.
“It's odd.”
I laughed for real this time. “What else would you expect, my love?”
“Read it.” His voice was stern. I gave him a curious glance and began to read aloud:
“Deirdre, I can't go back to that place. I know you understand. And you have to know that my only response to all of this is death. I don't really have any other choice, and I'm sorry, but I won't forget you.”
I folded it back up and handed it to Mitch. “Not quite what I expected, but it will do, I suppose.”
“Will do for what?”
“A declaration of intent.” I turned away and walked into the bedroom, sitting on the bed, taking a quick glance to verify that the curtains were safely drawn in this room also. Mitch followed me and stood in the doorway.
Dawn was close, so close I could see the rising sun as if it were in front of my eyes, feel the scorching heat and the agony of seared flesh, the burning away of skin and muscle and blood and bone.
“Intent to do what?” Mitch's voice came to me as if over a great distance, his words made meaningless by the vision that was forcing itself into my mind:
There is a sadness that calls to me and ties me to the soul within
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the strange and familiar sadness of life lived too long. There is an ache for the denied fire of the sun, an urge to hold my face up to the sky and feel its rays caress my skin with burning fingers, an overwhelming wish to fall deep into oblivion and live no more.
There is a sadness that calls to me and ties me to the soul within
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the strange and familiar sadness of life lived too long. There is an ache for the denied fire of the sun, an urge to hold my face up to the sky and feel its rays caress my skin with burning fingers, an overwhelming wish to fall deep into oblivion and live no more.
“Sleep,”
a voice says,
“sleep.”
a voice says,
“sleep.”
The voice is calm and the eyes in the vision close in peace, a peace unlike any I have ever known. Sins and the guilt of sins fall away before it, hunger has no hold and the self is no more.
All that exists is the peace, the oblivion and the cleansing fire of a rising sun.
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Mitch was grasping my hands tightly when my eyes opened and he shook me roughly. I noticed with shock that I was no longer sitting on the bed, but instead stood in front of the bedroom window. “Deirdre?” His voice was harsh. “What the hell is happening?”
I blinked my eyes and shook my head, squirming slightly against his tight hold on me. “How did I get here?”
“You got up from the bed, walked over here, and started to open the curtains. You would have been fried to a crisp if I hadn't stopped you. What happened?”
“I don't know.”
He loosened his grip on my wrists, but still controlled my movements. “Do you feel better?”
“I don't want to open the curtains now, if that's what you mean. Why on earth would I want to do that?”
Mitch let go of my hands, but stayed close to me, poised and watchful. “Beats me. You muttered something about sleep and smiled, then came over here. I only managed to stop you a second before you reached the window. What do you remember?”
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