Hunger (4 page)
Authors: Karen E. Taylor
“I don't understand him, you know. I guess I don't understand much of what's going on.” I could tell he was stalling, holding something back he didn't want to tell me.
“Larry, please, just give me his message. He can talk about whatever it is tonight, when I get there.”
“But that's just it. He asked me to tell you not to come here again. He said he was very upset about what happened last night. I didn't know that anything happened last night.”
I suddenly felt that he was fishing for information, that his confusion was not entirely real. “I didn't think so either.” I hoped to sound cool and unconcerned, but I began to shake inwardly. What was wrong?
“Miss Griffin,” he began tentatively, “I'm sorry I was the one to tell you. But you know how insistent Max can be. He's had me sit in his office since I got here, just on the chance that you might call. I don't know what else to say, except that if he doesn't make it up with you, he's a damn fool. You're a remarkable lady, and even if he doesn't know it there are plenty of other men around who would be thrilled to be with you. You know, I always thought that you and I couldâdamn, Max is coming. I've got to go now. I want to see you again . . .”
I could hear Max's voice faintly in the background; then the phone was slammed down.
I hung up on my end. What had happened? I had no reason to doubt that Larry was telling the truth and yet, I also had no reason to think that Max would cut me cold. Unless, of course, he believed that I had killed Bill. That must be it, I thought, but he should know me better than that; he should know that even if I had, it was inadvertent. I felt betrayed. I loved Max, as much as I could feel free to love any human, and somehow had thought it was returned.
I glanced down at my hand and noticed that my cigarette had burned down to the filter. I angrily crushed it out in the ashtray. Smoking was indicative of my constant attempts to be human; it was a habit I had acquired many years ago to appear more normal, to try to fit in with the crowd. Apparently, like my relationships, it was an empty gesture. Maddened, I shredded what remained of the pack, put on my coat and left the office.
“Never again,” I thought out loud on the way down in the empty elevator. “I will not rely on another. I will stay true to my nature, a hunter, a lone predator. I don't need anyone; I don't want anyone.” I felt a new strength, a resolve in my very being, that was never there before. For so many years, I had been frightened, guilty, and apologetic; that would end now.
As I walked out of the building and slowly made my way to the hotel, I began to make my plans. I would still feed this evening; I needed the strength, physically and psychologically. I could see now that I had lived like a pampered pet for years, Max's pet, to be thrown a morsel now and then, to be caressed and played with. Now I would reawaken my feral instincts, stalk my own prey and take what I wanted. There were many places in the city where people walked alone, where my food could be easily obtained. I was never afraid to prowl the parts of the city where the undesirable and unwanted lived. There were homeless people on park benches, people who had nothing to lose, no reason to guard against thieves, no value to anyone but me. And I would steal less from them than others had, only a little blood, something that they would gladly give for just a few dollars. Before I met Max this was how I lived, and I could do it again.
I spun through the entrance to the hotel, deep in my plans for the night, and nearly ran into someone waiting by the door. With surprise, I noticed it was Larry. Despite my resolve, I felt my spirits rise. Max had sent him to apologize, Larry had misunderstood his message and he wanted to set it straight. I smiled encouragingly at him, but he kept his head lowered. His expression was rueful.
“Miss Griffin?” I turned around and saw that Frank was on duty again. He looked at Larry and continued. “He said he had to speak with you, that it was important. I was just about to ask him to leave when you came in. Do you know him?” Frank always took his responsibilities as doorman and guard seriously. I had never had anyone call for me, and I imagine he found it rather unusual.
“Thank you, Frank. I do know him, it's fine.” Turning to Larry, I said quietly, “Do you have time to come upstairs? I'd like to talk about this in private.”
He smiled at me, too brightly, I thought. “Yes, I'd like that.” We boarded the elevator and rode silently, both staring at the lighted numbers above the door. The elevator stopped at my floor, and as we walked down the hall, I found his closeness exhilirating. Surely he was not off limits now. I imagined I could hear his heart beating, circulating the precious blood through his veins. By the time we arrived at my room, I was trembling with anticipation and nearly dropped my keys. He took them from me, and without a word, opened the door and escorted me in.
I took off my coat, walked to the bar and poured myself a drink, to steady my nerves. When I turned around, Larry was staring at me, with a look of surprise on his face. “You look so different, Miss Griffin,” he said, sitting down on the couch. “Younger or something.”
“Not quite the elegant lady of the night you're used to, am I?” I indicated my clothes with a gesture and made a slight curtsy. “Let's just drop the Miss Griffin, shall we? Please call me Deirdre. Can I fix you a drink?”
“I'd better not, I've got to be back to work in a bit. If Max knew I came here he'd fire me.” His mouth set into a frown incongruous for his years. “And unfortunately, I need the job.”
I was disappointed that he was apparently not here to apologize for Max, and yet, just the closeness of this man, this human with his aroma of blood and sweat, was enough for me to forget my hurt and concentrate on my hunger. I would have to act fast on this and satisfy my need before he had to return to the Ballroom. I knew he wanted me, I could read it on his face. It would be easy enough to seduce him, to feed on him, and then to implant the suggestion that he had spent a rather disappointing time in my bed, that his visit here was not something he'd like to repeat. I felt a rush of power, and said a thankful prayer that my first independent victim in years was so neatly delivered to my doorstep.
I moved slowly toward him. “Well, what did you want to talk about?”
“Oh, I don't know.” He stood up for a minute as if to come closer to me. I leaned forward, but he moved back, suddenly seeming uncomfortable and uneasy. Then I smiled and he relaxed, sitting down again and casually laying his arm over the back of the couch. I admired his handsome form clad in the Ballroom's uniform tuxedo. On Max the suit seemed like a second skin, on Larry, it was a cocoon from which his lean, youthful body struggled to emerge. I longed to unbutton his shirt, undress him completely and enjoy his blood. Take it slow, I advised myself. Don't scare him away.
“Are you sure you won't have a drink, Larry?”
He checked his watch, “Well, yeah, I guess a small one wouldn't hurt.”
As I filled a glass for him, I was aware of his gaze following my every movement. Slowly I walked across the room and handed him his drink.
“Thanks.” He gave me a nod and took a sip. I sat down next to him and waited.
“I thought maybe you could help me out.”
“And how could I do that?”
“Well, you could answer a few questions for me. I've been trying to understand what goes on with you at the Ballroom. Max has always maintained that you belonged to him; that no one at the club was to touch you. But then, he's always setting you up with other men, total strangers, some of them real sleazeballs, and you always go along with it.” He looked at me, with a odd, almost pleading look, wanting answers I could never give him.
“Larry, it really is not what you think.”
He gave me a sharp look. “How can you guess what I think it is? Just answer my question, what happens between you and the men he brings in? Once a week, almost like clockwork you're there, not good enough for the staff but just fine for anyone else he can drag in. And what about this Andrews guy? He's dead, did you know?” At my nod, he continued. “I thought you might. The cops were there too, talking to everyone, looking for you.”
“But I didn't have anything to do with . . .”
He didn't let me finish. “That doesn't matter,” he said with a shrug. “What bothers me most is Max's reaction. When he heard, he was furious, ranting and breaking things. He doesn't even want to hear your name, and asked me to keep you away. He should know you by now! How can he turn on you like that? You, of all people, you're so beautiful and, well, he should want to protect you, worship you . . . like I do.” This last was said quietly so I could not hear, but I did and looked at him intently; he stared at the floor, his cheeks flushed.
“How old are you, Larry?”
“I'll be twenty-five in January.” He seemed defensive, avoiding my stare. “Not that much younger than you.”
“Looks can be deceiving. I'll be thirty-six on my next birthday,” I lied. I reached over to him and taking his hands in mine, made eye contact. “Take my advice, please. Don't try to get involved in any of this, not with Max or me. You'll just wind up getting hurt.” I dropped my eyes but remained holding his hands. “Whatever goes on at the club,” I smiled my most convincing smile, “and even my relationship with Max, well, that is all over now. So let's not discuss it, okay?”
“But what goes on, Deirdre? What happens that's so awful you can't talk about it?”
I realized that I had perhaps underestimated him. He was young, true, but not stupid and certainly not unobservant. And unfortunately for me, not a good choice for feeding. Taking his blood now would only raise more questions in his mind, cause me more problems than it would solve. “It doesn't matter, Larry,” I said with certainty, meeting his eyes with as much determination as I could muster. “All that is over. Just forget about it. Forget about it.”
He stood up and shook his head briefly, confused by the forcefulness of my command. “Well, I guess I'd better get back. Thanks for the drink.”
“I am glad you stopped by, Larry.” I took his arm and walked him to the door. “It was so very nice of you to be concerned for me. But if you have to go, you had better go now. I would feel just terrible if I got you fired. We can get together some other time, dinner on your day off, maybe?” I didn't want to alienate him, but if I spent much more time in his presence I could lose my control. Fortunately, he seemed not to take my comments as a brush off.
“I'd like that, Deirdre. May I call you?”
I smiled my warmest smile. “Anytime, Larry. I would be happy to talk with you again.” On impulse I stretched up to kiss his cheek. He turned his head to meet that kiss, and folded me in his strong, muscular arms. His tongue probed my mouth, tentatively at first and then with more purpose, his warm hands molding the flesh of my lower back. He was so ardent that I almost relented and, regardless of the danger involved, almost sunk my sharpening teeth into his neck. As I was about to make my move, he pulled away, abruptly. Surprisingly, he was blushing.
“I'm sorry, Deirdre, I didn't want to, I mean, I'm not ready to . . . See you later.” He ran from the room and down the hall as if I had bit him and was pursuing him for more. The elevator door closed and I closed my own.
I was shaking still from my unsatisfied need, when suddenly I began to laugh, sounding slightly hysterical. “It seems the great huntress may have found herself a virgin,” I said to myself. “The best blood of all, so the books say, and she let him get away.” I poured myself another glass of wine and as I drank it, I calmed down. In another few minutes I would leave and find myself a more appropriate victim.
Frank gave me a curious look as I left the hotel, but I ignored the questions in his eyes, and walked out into the night.
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It was early evening, and there were many clusters of people, pursuing their own interests, shows or dinners or drinks with friends. These could be no help to me, but not too far away were dark streets avoided by most of the city's dwellers. Gwen's weirdos walked these streets, or at least I hoped so; my conscience seldom rebuked me for feeding on these. I sniffed the air and enjoyed the stabbing sensation of cold entering my lungs. It would snow tonight, a thin white covering that would too soon be grey or black with the morning's traffic. I turned off onto a less traveled street, and began to grow uneasy; was I being followed? I looked behind me, but there was no sign of movement. I thought I could hear faint footfalls echoing my own, but when I stopped the sounds ceased, even as my own did. I brushed off the feeling; I was letting the events of the last few days influence me. There was no one there, and even if there were, I knew I could handle them. After all, I was hunting for just such a person.
Then, in the darkness ahead, I perceived a shadow against a wall. Had my night vision been less than perfect, I would have walked right by without noticing him. I heard him breathe a small sigh, his patience and silence had paid off, or so he thought.
Whether he desired my purse, my body or my life, I never had the opportunity to find out.
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