Crave (39 page)
Authors: Karen E. Taylor
“Mitch is not here.”
“Ah, I see. I never liked him much anyway. For what it's worth, I always thought you were better off with Max.” His eyes glazed over a bit, losing some of the life and depth they'd had. “Max,” he said in a whisper, “then Ron. So many others. All dead. You have caused me much grief, Deirdre. But, for Max's sake and the love he bore you, I will help you. Stay until Claude leaves again.” His eyes spotted the large form crossing the bar with a bottle and glasses. “We will go someplace private and you can tell me your story.”
Chapter 17
I
was in over my head, I knew. Way over my head. Although Victor might not have had all his faculties, he certainly had enough to be a real threat to me. If I'd been smart, I'd have turned and run back to New Orleans. But I'd become obsessed with learning as much about my mother as possible, and Victor Lange certainly had more information than Betsy McCain. Even if he'd been the devil himself, I'd still have gone with him.
was in over my head, I knew. Way over my head. Although Victor might not have had all his faculties, he certainly had enough to be a real threat to me. If I'd been smart, I'd have turned and run back to New Orleans. But I'd become obsessed with learning as much about my mother as possible, and Victor Lange certainly had more information than Betsy McCain. Even if he'd been the devil himself, I'd still have gone with him.
A plan began to form in my mind. It was vague and shadowy, an outline only, with none of the substance filled in, but it was a plan. If I could convince her friends that I was her, then I could take her life away from her. And leave her with nothing, the way she'd left me.
Claude returned with the bottle of wine and showed it to Victor. “Perfect,” he exclaimed. “You'll like this, my dear. It's the best wine the cellar of The Imperial has to offer.” He held the bottle out to me so that I could read the label. As Lily, I knew only that it wasn't Mad Dog 20/20. As Deirdre, though, I had to concur with Victor's pronouncement and nodded. “Very nice indeed. Thank you, Claude.”
He poured three glasses and handed one to Victor, one to me, and picked up his own. “To friends, old and new,” he said, but the power of his voice was dimmed. Claude drank, giving Victor and me a few uneasy glances, noticing that, in his very short absence, the dynamics of our threesome had switched. He was now the outsider and the visitor. I smiled at him and sipped at my wine.
He took my smile as encouragement. “So, Lily, tell us about New Orleans. It's been some time since I've been there.”
I shrugged. “It's New Orleans. And probably hasn't changed one single bit since you've left. It's still sinking into the swamp, it's still dirty and it still stinks of death.”
Claude laughed. “Ah, I know it well. Home sweet home. I miss it still.”
Victor had gone silent. His glass was empty and he was back to tracing on the tabletop again. “Victor?” I placed a hand on top of his and he brushed it away.
Claude leaned over and whispered to me. “Don't worry about it, Lily, he does this sometimes. He is, well, different. You mustn't mind him.”
At this statement, Victor's mouth seemed to stiffen into a grimace, and I caught a glimmer of anger in his eyes as they quickly darted to me, then back to the table, but he said nothing.
Claude didn't seem to realize that Victor was not quite as unaware as he seemed. His actions were like taunting a tiger at the zoo. But in this case, the bars were made of paper and only the tiger knew. If Victor ever gained full control of his mind and situation, I had a feeling that Claude would be quite dead in a matter of seconds. I should have been frightened. Instead I felt a rush of excitement. And with that rush, I also felt Victor's knee very purposely brush up against mine. He was not as out of it as they all thought. Whoever they were.
Claude kept talking about his boyhood days and nights in New Orleans; I made an effort to listen and respond appropriately. We talked of Mardi Gras and blues and the bars of the Quarter. The bottle of wine was emptied, and Victor woke from his trance enough to ask Claude to get another.
When he had gone, Victor looked up at me. “Ten minutes after I leave, excuse yourself for the ladies' room. Next to that door is a door marked âEmployees Only.'”I craned my head a bit to see where it was. “No.” He touched my hand and I looked back at him. “You can't see it from here, but it is there.” He pressed something into my hand, a key. “This will open it. Take the stairs to the very bottom and follow the hall to the very end. This key will open that door also. I will wait for you there. You'll recognize the place when you get there.”
I nodded.
“I needn't tell you that you must be unobserved.”
“No, you needn't tell me. But I'll be there.”
“Good.” He smiled at me one more time, gave my knee a quick squeeze and then turned back to his study of the tabletop just as Claude came back. “More wine?” asked Claude.
He started to pour, but Victor looked at him and shook his head slowly. “Not for me, Claude. I think I shall retire now.”
He stood up, and Claude motioned to the bartender. I watched as Victor crossed the room; when he reached the doorway, another man approached him and walked him out. A very tight watch.
“What's wrong with him?”
“Victor?” Claude's nervousness fell from him as soon as Victor was out of sight. He was once again self-assured and powerful. “He lost some very dear friends a few years ago, in a nasty series of even nastier murders. It was as if his mind became unhinged. I didn't know him then. But I understand he was dynamite. Ran things with an iron fist and forget the velvet glove.” He laughed and filled my wineglass. “A real tiger. He owns this place, did you know that?”
“No, I didn't. Still, it's sad.”
“Mmm. So how do you like the wine?”
I held my glass up and admired it in the light. “It's good. I'd hate to have to tell you the brand of the last wine I drank. But this stuff, it makes that other seem like swill.” I gave a little giggle. “Okay, it really was swill. But then as my friend Hyde would say, âDrunk is drunk no matter how much you spend.'”I checked the clock over the door. Time to go. “Speaking of which, I really must make a visit to the little girls' room. Where is it?”
He pointed it out to me and I collected my purse, holding it to cover the key in my hand. “Be back in a bit,” I said, and walked off, deliberately staggering just a little.
I did stop in the ladies' room first, to check on my appearance. I ran a hand through my hair, and marveled again at how amazing it was that they could do such a thing. Then I opened my purse and pulled out the little vial of scent. This time I did read the label. “Disguise,” it said. “Wear this to confuse the eyes of others. Will mold your appearance to your thoughts.”
I didn't really believe in it. But I dabbed some more onto my neck and my wrists, just in case. My heart was pounding; I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, attempting to calm myself. “I am Deirdre Griffin,” I whispered, opening my eyes and focusing on my reflection. “I am Deirdre Griffin.”
Then I exhaled the breath and stepped outside. The key fit the lock and I went in quickly, shutting the door behind me quietly. It clicked solidly, regardless of my care, and I turned the knob, suspecting and then realizing that it was locked from this side also. With no way to open it again.
“Great.” My voice echoed loud in the landing. I looked down at the staircase. It seemed to go on forever. I sighed, took off my shoes, hooked the straps over my fingers and started down. No sounds filtered in from the restaurant, and the only light came from the fixture at the exit. Step after step, I plunged deeper into darkness and silence. After two full flights, my legs started to shake. After three, though, I could see what seemed to be the end of the stairs.
Only one more flight now,
I told myself. When I reached the bottom, I leaned up against one of the walls; it was cold and damp. There were no lights in this hallway, just the slight glow from above and the tiny crack of light under the door at the corridor's end.
Only one more flight now,
I told myself. When I reached the bottom, I leaned up against one of the walls; it was cold and damp. There were no lights in this hallway, just the slight glow from above and the tiny crack of light under the door at the corridor's end.
It occurred to me as I started down the hall that this was perhaps one of the stupidest things I'd ever doneâmasquerading as a woman I'd never known to meet in secret with a vampire who, by his own admission, was not quite himself.
“No,” I whispered to myself, “stupid doesn't even come close to describing this.”
But I had no choice now. There was no way out of this place, except with Victor's help. And so I would continue the game. Still, when I inserted the key into the lock, I saw that my hands were shaking.
I paused, took a deep breath and opened the door.
Victor was sitting calmly in what appeared to be a waiting room. It was a room one would expect to find in an institution or a hospital; the difference between these surroundings and the lush interiors of The Imperial was shocking. But Victor seemed quite unaware of where he was; he still exuded elegance and power. Smiling, he rose and gave me a small bow. “Right on time, Deirdre.” He crossed the room, took my hand and kissed it. “You were always so socially responsible, so dependable. True to your word. I do apologize for the surroundings, but this is my home now. Or rather, the next room is my home.” He beckoned to me and opened a door. “We can be a bit more comfortable in here, at least.”
I preceded him; this room was even more bizarre than the first, containing a few chairs and two large glass tanks. One of these tanks was completely empty, the other was filled with antique furniture: two large wing chairs upholstered in burgundy velvet, a mahogany end table between the chairs, a large armoire and a single bed with mahogany posts. “They so very graciously allow me something a little less institutional in my chamber. I'd be more thankful, except that this entire organization only exists because of me. The blood-sucking Cadre should be thanking me.”
I nodded, suppressing a shiver. What was this place?
“The Cadre's holding pens, of course. As you should remember.” He gave me a shrewd look and I smiled knowingly. He had picked that thought right out of my mind. I would need to be much more careful.
“Of course I remember, Victor. How could I forget?”
“How indeed. So let us sit and be comfortable.”
I walked into the glass tank and chose one of the burgundy chairs. He followed closely behind me and opened the armoire, pulling out a bottle of wine and two glasses. “They even allow me a few vices now and then. What harm can it do? My dear concerned friends in the Cadre do not know that I can get out, you see.” He laughed and sat in the chair next to me. “I won't tell them how I do it, of course, even if they find out. I must keep a few secrets for myself. And I trust you will keep this one as well.”
“Of course, Victor.”
“So”âhe handed me a glass of wineâ“what is happening, Deirdre? What were you doing in New Orleans? I thought you and Mitch had settled into that little love nest in Maine. And how do you come to be without him? The man who swore to protect you for all eternity let you out alone?”
I laughed, hoping it didn't sound too nervous. “There are all sorts of jails, Victor.” This, at least, I could talk about with authority. “Maybe I got tired of being held and protected.”
“Understandable.” He drank his wine and studied me. “And so you came here to me. Why?”
I didn't know how to answer him; this was not going well. “I don't know. Maybe I should just leave.” I got up from my chair and started for the door, but he was quicker than I and blocked the exit.
Putting his hands on my shoulders, Victor looked down at me. “No need to explain, Deirdre, my love. You came to me because you couldn't stay away for too long. We have always been such good friends.” He said the words caressingly, lovingly. “Yes, such good friends, you and I. For what it is worth, I have missed you, too.”
Before I knew he had even moved, he'd wrapped his arms around me and was kissing me. Softly at first, then harder and more demanding. I wanted to push him away, but it would blow my cover. So I relaxed and kissed him back, realizing halfway through that it was no longer an act. I liked having him kiss me. I liked the way he held me, I liked the way he smelled, the way his solid body seemed to melt into mine.
He broke off the kiss and looked down into my eyes. I couldn't even begin to understand what lay behind his glance. I blushed and tried to look away. “Ah,” he said, “I see it now.”
“What do you see, Victor?”
“I see the girl you are.”
Victor had changed and I was afraid. But caught in his gaze, I couldn't escape; all I could do was continue the bluff. “Deirdre?” he asked, his voice almost a whisper.
“Yeah?”
He didn't answer, but I felt his body tense. He picked me up and carried me a few steps, dumping me unceremoniously onto the bed. I reached my arms up to pull him down to me. “I've missed you so, Victor.”
He smiled down at me, the tips of his canines obvious. “Have you really, Deirdre?” Then he caught me by the wrists, pulled me to my feet and put his hands on the sides of my face. I could smell the wine on his breath, caught the scent of blood.
“Who the hell are you?” His eyes were wild with rage. “Because you sure as hell are not Deirdre Griffin. You can't even know her, or you would know that she's no friend of mine, having been responsible for the deaths of those I loved.”
I gave a little whimper and tried to pull away from him. “Oh, no, you are not leaving. I will give you five minutes to explain what sort of game you are playing and why. And no lies. It has been a while since I've killed, but I assure you I still know how.”
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