Crave (16 page)
Authors: Karen E. Taylor
“And how did this one die?”
“Same way, an apparent suicide. He was sitting on a bench in Central Park when the sun came up.”
“Do you know who it was?”
“No, we don't.”
“When will you know who it is?”
“Soon, I hope. But identification in these cases is often next to impossible. The police cooperate as much as possible, but when all you have to work with is a pile of charred bones and teeth, it's difficult.”
“I take it there's no witness this time.”
He cleared his throat. “None have come forward at this time.”
“And are you sure this is another suicide?”
“Dammit, Deirdre, it's hard to tell. But there are very few other ways that a vampire can be forced to witness a sunrise, short of shackles and chains, and there is no evidence of that in this case.”
“Are you positive? It just seems to be too much of a coincidence, two suicides right in a row.”
“Yes. That is what I thought. I was hoping you might know something.”
“I? I know nothing at all.”
“Ah.” He fell silent for a while, brushing slightly at the sleeve of his impeccable suit coat. Then he looked up and met my eyes. “We do have one theory. Tell me, my dear, have you ever been caught in the sun?”
“Well, yes, of course.”
“And what was your first reaction?”
“Truthfully, Victor? My very first reaction?”
He nodded.
“I wanted to stay, regardless of the danger. I miss the sun. But then the pain would grow unbearable and I'd remove myself.”
He nodded again. “That seems to be the way we all feel. There is the longing for the sunlight at the same time there is the fear. So when a vampire suicides, this method is the one normally chosen. Having two right in a row is unusual, I'll admit, but not totally unheard of. It might be possible for one of us to take that desire in another and twist it, so that it is acted upon. We are connected to each other in strange ways and the actions of one, as you well know, can carry unimaginable consequences for another.”
I shook my head in agreement and remembered my recent visions. “Yes, I can see how that might happen. But what I don't understand is why you needed to tell me about it.”
“Where's Mitch?”
“What?” My confusion must have been very apparent. “Mitch? He was going to talk to you about your sloppy security and then go to find his son. You must have seen him.”
“I did see him, about an hour or so before sunset. He stormed into my office, talking all sorts of nonsense about how someone had broken into your room overnight and scattered rose petals. When I told him I had better things to worry about than flower petals, he stormed away, blustering about how we would pay if anything ever happened to you.”
“You think he had something to do with this?” My voice rose in anger for the first time. “Mitch?”
“Well, we haven't ruled out the possibility. He hated Larry Martin. And he's not exactly on good terms with anyone in this organization. And while Mitch may have perfectly good reasons for his reaction, the fact still remains that he's been overheard calling for the downfall of the Cadre on many separate occasions.”
“Jesus, Victor,” I shook my head in disbelief, “that's all just talk. You can't really think that.”
“Well, we would like to speak with him as soon as possible. He's with his son, you say?”
“He's looking for his son. Last night Chris found out from Vivienne that Mitch had been transformed. He's more than just a little upset about it.”
“Um, hmm.”
“What?”
“One more reason for him to be angry.”
“Victor,” I went to the door and opened it, “if you can believe that Mitch is twisting the minds of other vampires so that they'll sit out in the sun and burn themselves to a crisp, then you are just as crazy as whoever is doing it. If anyone is.”
“Could be. But when you see Mitch, please tell him we need to talk.”
“You're wasting your time, Victor. If there is a killer loose, it's not Mitch. I'd put my money on Larry Martin if I were you.”
“Larry Martin is dead.”
“Well, then, almost anyone else other than Mitch. And I wouldn't write Larry off completely. Theoretically, Victor, we're all dead. You, me, Mitch, Vivienne, the whole damn Cadre. We're just a bunch of animated corpses walking around preying on the lives of others.”
“And just maybe,” I said softly to myself as I closed the door, thinking about my strange visions, wondering if perhaps these thoughts traveled and were intercepted and acted upon by the others, “maybe I'm the one doing it.”
Chapter 19
B
etsy was halfway through her salad when I arrived at the table and sat down. She smiled at me, then frowned, seeing the expression on my face. “Something wrong, Deirdre?”
etsy was halfway through her salad when I arrived at the table and sat down. She smiled at me, then frowned, seeing the expression on my face. “Something wrong, Deirdre?”
“Damn green dress for one thing.”
“Oh, come on, the dress looks wonderful on you; I meant to tell you so before that Victor person waylaid you. What did he want, anyway?”
I picked up the almost empty bottle of champagne and poured myself a glass, draining it in one draught. Then tipped the bottle again to get the last few drops.
“Deirdre?” she repeated, “what's wrong?”
“Nothing of importance, Betsy. Politics, suspicions, murdersâjust business as usual.” I gave her a light smile. “Victor has an overactive imagination, I'm afraid.”
“So do I.” She pushed her salad bowl away and leaned over the table toward me. “You can tell me, sweetie, I can keep a secret. And if you don't tell me, I'll just have to let my imagination fill in the details.”
I sighed and signaled the waiter to the table. “Another bottle of champagne, please.” When he left I looked her dead in the eyes. “Don't ask me for confidences, Betsy, and don't try too hard to be my friend. Do you know what happened to the last female friend I had?”
Betsy only hesitated a minute. “Sure, she was murderedâbrutally, as a matter of fact, and in the apartment behind my office.” She raised an eyebrow at the surprise that must have shown in my face. “Of course I know about the incident; it was in all the papers. And even if it hadn't been, I would have made it my business to find out. Hell, it
was
my business to find out. I needed to know why you were so anxious to sell me Griffin Designs for such a low price.”
was
my business to find out. I needed to know why you were so anxious to sell me Griffin Designs for such a low price.”
She looked around her cautiously, exercising a discretion I would never have suspected she possessed, especially after drinking almost an entire bottle of champagne by herself. “I know quite a bit about you, Deirdre. More than you'd think.”
“Even so, Betsy, a friendship with me is a dangerous commodity. I imagine that Gwen died cursing me.”
“I think, Deirdre, that you were cursed long before Gwen was killed. And that you carry the curse within your veins.”
I stared at her for a moment, growing uncomfortable with the closeness of her words to the truth of my existence. “Yes,” I finally said, getting up from the table, “I think you may be right.”
She reached over and placed her hand on top of mine. “You're not leaving so soon, are you? You can'tâwe haven't eaten yet.”
“I'm sorry, but I really need to go. I've lost what little appetite I had, anyway. It's nothing personal, Betsy. Just that the little unfinished business I told you about keeps growing and if I don't get started on it soon, it may go completely out of control.”
“Okay, then, go if you have to. Take care of yourself, Deirdre. And if you need a friend, I'll be here for you.”
“Thank you, Betsy. Enjoy your meal, and thank you again for the clothes. You're a lifesaver, truly. I'll call before I leave town and we'll reschedule dinner.”
“And I'll hold you to that.” She gave me a knowing smile and a wink.
“Good night, Betsy. And thanks again.”
“Anytime,” she replied and I started to walk away. “Oh, and Deirdre?”
I turned, “Yes?”
She held her glass of champagne up in a toast. “Good hunting.”
I didn't stop to ask her what she meant, just turned again and walked away, not looking back. But I did remember to stop at the coat-check counter. The young girl looked up at me when I approached. “Can I help you?”
“Yes, I think you have a package here for me.”
“Your name?”
“Oh. Deirdre Griffin or maybe Greer?”
The girl nodded and smiled at me. “Victor had it sent to your rooms, Ms. Griffin. I hope that's all right.”
“That's fine.”
Once again I navigated the elevator and the corridors, and went back in the room, I checked the clock. It was only a little after nine, plenty of time before Mitch would return and more than enough to sort through the clothes that Betsy had provided, maybe even time to take a walk alone afterwards. I realized with a small rush of surprise that I missed the solitude I had grown accustomed to over the years, missed the feeling of unity with the night and nature.
The box of clothes had been placed on top of the coffins. I shook my head as I walked over to it, thinking that I really should get Victor to remove them. Neither Mitch nor I had the desire to try them out. Slitting the top of the box open with my nails I pulled out several pairs of black jeans and heavy black sweatshirts.
“Bless you, Betsy,” I said as I delved further into the box. She'd also included a red sweater tunic almost identical to one I once owned and had to discard, some oversized t-shirts, a dressy black and white lightweight suit and three dresses identical to the one I now wore only in different colors, a red one, a black one and a white.
I shook out the dresses and the suit and hung them in the armoire. The rest I folded and put away in the dresser drawers, keeping out a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt. When I shut the drawer, the dresser shook and some of the rose petals fell away.
Picking up the vase, I carried it into the bathroom to freshen the water and to find an aspirin. The medicine cabinet actually held a bottle to my surprise, and as I dropped a tablet into the water I realized that I'd forgotten to ask Victor if he'd sent the flowers. “Well, it had to be Victor,” I said aloud, contemplating the black rose bud surrounded by the sea of red, “Who else would know?” It made sense that Victor would remember Max's methods; even made sense that he would attempt to copy them.
I placed them back on top of the dresser, turning the vase slightly to show them off to their best advantage. As the vase twisted I noticed a corner of white underneath it, almost invisible against the white dresser scarf.
The card that came with the flowers had been taped to the bottom of the vase, almost as if the sender had not wanted me to find it right away. The envelope was not written on, but when I pulled the card out, I recognized the handwriting and wished Mitch were here for many reasons.
The least of which was to vindicate his theory that Larry Martin was still alive. Larry's card read:
“Deirdre, I hope these flowers find you happy and well. Unfortunately, by the time you read this note, some will be missing, torn away in violence from their kindred.”
I glanced away from the note and counted the flowers. Ten red and one black were remaining. There had been twelve red ones last night, I was sure.
“I told you I wouldn't forget you,”
the note continued,
“and as I'm sure you remember, the black rose is you.”
“Deirdre, I hope these flowers find you happy and well. Unfortunately, by the time you read this note, some will be missing, torn away in violence from their kindred.”
I glanced away from the note and counted the flowers. Ten red and one black were remaining. There had been twelve red ones last night, I was sure.
“I told you I wouldn't forget you,”
the note continued,
“and as I'm sure you remember, the black rose is you.”
It was easy to connect the two missing roses and the two dead vampires. Larry was once again displaying his flair for the melodramatic. I would have laughed out loud had I not been so convinced that this time he would succeed in his plans and I would be dead.
I dropped the note on the floor and walked over to the bed. Pulling off the green velvet dress, I vowed with a grim smile never to wear the color again, no matter how long I lived, put on the jeans and sweatshirt, pulled on my boots and left the room.
When I hit the street and the outside air I let the breath I'd been holding escape in a sigh of relief. My heart was racing, but I walked slowly, in an attempt to calm my panic. Fleeing Cadre headquarters seemed a good first step. That sanctuary, if it ever had been one, was no longer safe for me. Larry had been there at least two times that I knew of, once to deliver the roses and then just this morning or afternoon while Mitch and I lay unaware. I shivered in the warm spring air, imagining him standing over me, watching the rise and fall of my chest in sleep, showering me with blood red petals.
How could he do all these things? He was a relatively new transformation and a rogue at that with no one to teach or to guide him. I had to find the answer to that question. If I didn't, ten other Cadre members would die. And then it would be my turn.
I thought back over my unnaturally long life. There was a time when I would have welcomed Larry's attention, when I would have given him all I owned to have him provide for me the release of death. “But not now. Please, not now,” I whispered to myself. “Now I have Mitch.”
I continued walking, my pace picking up now. Without conscious thought of where I was going, I just walked, letting my awareness flow into the workings of my body, the feel of the concrete under my feet, the smell of the night air. I turned down one street and doubled back another, finding myself at last in an alley that seemed very familiar. I inhaled deeply and closed my eyes, searching my mind for clues to this place and remembered that I stood outside Larry Martin's old apartment building.
There was no police cruiser waiting outside the front door this night, as there had been that other time, no need for me to climb the wall and break into an open window. I walked around the side of the building and entered the front door.
I remembered his apartment number and in less than a minute stood outside the door. There was no good reason to assume that he still occupied this place, and yet there was really no reason for him not to. I knew better than most that the habits of a vampire die hard.
Listening at the door, I heard no sounds of life from within. I stooped over and put my face up to the keyhole, inhaling the scent of this place. It reeked of him. Larry Martin still lived here.
He'd grown more cautious, I thought, noticing extra locks on the door that had not been there before. Breaking them was possible with a few strong kicks, but the noise might attract the attention of his neighbors. Not really a likely prospect, but a possibility I didn't much care to test.
The longer I stared at the locked door, the more I knew I had to get inside. Then the answer hit me. The powers he used to enter my room were no different than the ones I possessed. I had transformed into a mist once before and I could do it again.
I closed my eyes and concentrated, trying to remember how the sensation of melting away felt. My body swayed slightly as I reached out to the air around me, willing it to flow through me, willing myself to dissolve into it. My arms and legs tingled and I felt a shiver sweep along my back. I emptied my mind of all thoughts of flesh and bodily contact; tried to will my body to merge and combine with the air around me.
But when I opened my eyes, I saw that I had failed. I was as substantive as I had been before the attempt. Laughing bitterly at myself, I remembered lines from Hamlet, “O, that this too too solid flesh would melt . . .” and “. . . 'tis a consummation devoutly to be wish'd . . .”
“Damn.” I walked away and down the front steps of his building back to the street, talking to myself. “That's what you get for trying to hold on to this body for so many years, Deirdre. When you want to get rid of it, you can't.”
“Oh, I don't know,” came a familiar voice behind me, “as bodies go, it's certainly one I'd like to hold on to.”
I spun around. “Mitch!” I threw myself into his arms and kissed him, then snuggled into his familiar suit coat. “How on earth did you know I was here?”
“Coincidence?”
“Not on your life.” I hugged him again and noticed that he was wearing his shoulder holster and his gun.
“Armed and dangerous, tonight, are we?”
He shrugged. “I thought it might come in handy. So when I was over at the old apartment I picked it up.”
“Did you see Chris?” I asked anxiously. “Is he still upset?”
“One crisis at a time, Deirdre.” Suddenly all the life went out of his eyes. “But, yeah, I saw Chris. We can talk about it later, okay?”
“Fine. So tell me how you knew I'd be here.”
“Well,” he took my arm and led me back up the steps to Larry's apartment, “actually, I got back to the room earlier than I expected and saw the note on the floor. I know you all too well by now, Deirdre, and knew that you would attempt to meet the threat head-on.”
“I failed. Miserably.” We now stood outside the same door and I gave it a feeble kick. “Couldn't even get in the damn door.”
He smiled down at me and kissed the top of my head. “So I gathered. He's not home, is he?”
“No.”
“Good. That makes this much easier.” He pulled out his gun and fired at the locks. The noise of the shots echoed through the hallways, but not one person stepped out to see what was happening. Mitch looked around a second before reaching down and turning the knob, then gave me one of his mischievous smiles. “God, I love this city.”
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