Hunger (53 page)
Authors: Karen E. Taylor
“Deirdre, I'm sorry I didn't come sooner. Dad asked me to be best man, but I just couldn't. He was really angry, read me the riot act on the phone.”
“But you finally did come,” I reassured him, “and that's what matters.”
Chris slowed down and looked doubtfully at the back of Mitch's head. “I hope so. He can be real stubborn sometimes.”
“Tell me about it,” I said with a small laugh. “Why do you think this happened at all? For all that I love your father, and I do love him, I was not entirely convinced that this marriage was a good idea. But, Chris, it was what he wanted. He's been alone so long.” As have I, I added silently, but he seemed to understand.
“I know this'll be good for you both. It's just that you're a”âhe had the grace to blush slightlyâ“well, what you are, and that'll take some getting used to.”
“Fine, we have a lot of time. But keep it to yourself tonight, kiddo. Betsy doesn't know and I'd like to keep it that way.”
“And what doesn't Betsy know?” She bounded over to us, her eyes gleaming almost maliciously, acquisitively. “More secrets?”
I sat down next to Mitch and held his hand. “Only that I married the best man in the city.”
“Oh, that,” she said disparagingly. “I knew that. But you've got only one, Deirdre”âshe settled Sam in on one side of her and Chris on the otherâ“and now I have two.”
Chris looked embarrassed, but Sam laughed. The waiter brought and poured the champagne. I wanted to ask about the woman who had entered the courtroom and then quickly departed, but I hated to spoil what was left of the evening with an interrogation of Chris. Betsy had no such compunctions.
“So tell me, Christopher, who came in after you tonight? And why didn't she come along? One more person wouldn't have been a problem, would it have, Deirdre?”
“No, absolutely not.” I glanced at Mitch, who suddenly seemed nervous.
“It was Jean,” Sam interjected.
Mitch nodded and said nothing, but glared at Chris.
“Good God, so it was,” I blurted out with a funny choked laugh. “I must have been really nervous not to recognize her. But who the hell invited her? She was the last person I expected to see.” I looked at Sam. “Do you think she listens in on your phone calls?”
“No, she was off duty this afternoon; she works only nights. And I know I didn't mention it to her.”
“Don't look at me,” Mitch shrugged. “I haven't seen her since I checked out. And anyway, what possible difference can it make?”
“Who is Jean?” Betsy asked, sounding slightly annoyed at being left out of the conversation.
“A nurse at the hospital where I work,” Sam said. “And like Mitch said, it's not really important, just curious that she should have shown up like that.”
Chris cleared his throat. “I stopped by there this evening, looking for you, Dr. Samuels. I couldn't find you, but Jean was there and I asked if you were going to the wedding. Nobody told me not to say anything. And when she asked herself along, well, what could I do? She stayed until it was over, then slipped away before I noticed she'd gone.”
Nobody said anything, and he continued in her defense. “She took good care of you, Dad, better than any other nurse there, and if she wanted to see you married, I can't see what harm it'd do.”
“No harm, Chris.” I reached across the table and touched his arm. “We just wondered how she knew. I think it was sweet of you to bring her along. Now, let's just drop the subject, shall we? How about some more champagne?”
By the time everyone's glass was refilled, dinner arrived and the conversation turned to other matters. I sat quietly through the meal, picking at my rare prime rib, trying to ignore the waves of nausea caused by the varied aromas of the food around me. When the waiter finally cleared the plates and provided coffee, I sighed in relief.
Mitch caught the hint, paid the bill, and got up from the table. “Thank you for your help today, Betsy and Sam. It was wonderful. But we have some packing to do before we leave on our honeymoon.”
“Honeymoon?” Betsy asked blearily, the champagne having taken its toll on her. “I didn't know you were going away.”
“Oh.” I stood up and rubbed my head against Mitch's sleeve. “We just decided on the way over here.”
“Where are you going?” Sam smiled up at us over his coffee.
“Ah, we don't actually know yet, do we, honey?” Mitch kissed the top of my head. “But we're heading straight out to the airport. We'll send you a postcard.”
I walked around the table and gave them all a hug. Mitch shook Sam's hand, kissed Betsy, and clapped Chris on the shoulder. “See you later,” he called, and we left the restaurant.
The limos were nowhere in sight, so we flagged a cab and when one finally stopped, we snuggled in the backseat.
“That wasn't so bad, was it?” Mitch asked me as we arrived at his apartment.
“No, it was a lot of fun, actually.”
“You see, you should've married me two years ago.”
“Yes, I guess so. Mitch, we have some things we still need to work out.”
“I know, but it can wait, can't it? Let's enjoy the next few weeks before we get back to the harsh realities. And speaking of enjoying, we don't need to rush right off to the airport, do we?” His one hand tightened on my shoulder while the other played with the lace on the hem of my dress.
“No.” I turned to face him. “We have a little time.”
“Good.” He kissed me, his lips crushing mine, his hand delicately moving up my thigh.
“Actually,” I said breathlessly when he removed his mouth, “tomorrow night would be soon enough to leave.”
“I was hoping you'd say that.” The rawness of passion in his voice made me gasp, and like the night in the hospital made me forget where we were. Had it been a longer drive to his apartment, we would have made love right there in the cab.
As it was, the driver coughed and discreetly announced our arrival. When Mitch paid him, we ran up the steps of his apartment clutching each other and giggling like teenagers. He unlocked the door and picked me up to carry me in.
My head was nestled into his neck, so when he dropped me abruptly, I was taken completely by surprise by the three men, Victor Lange, Ron Wilkes, my attorney, and Fred, the Ballroom's bartender, standing in Mitch's living room. More surprising still was the fact that both Ron and Fred held rather large handguns, aimed directly at us.
Chapter 24
“C
lose the door, Greer,” Victor ordered. Mitch slumped for a minute, then did as he was told. He leaned up against the door; his eyes were glassy and his breathing came in short, panicked gasps.
lose the door, Greer,” Victor ordered. Mitch slumped for a minute, then did as he was told. He leaned up against the door; his eyes were glassy and his breathing came in short, panicked gasps.
“Mitch.” I took him by the shoulders and called his name but he didn't hear me; he was absorbed in studying the faces of the men.
“What the hell is this all about, Victor?” I turned around and faced the three of them, attempting to block Mitch's body from their guns. “Are you planning to shoot me? Well”âI bared my teeth unpleasantlyâ“you had better give it your best shot the first time. It will be the only chance you get.”
“Now, Deirdre,” Victor said calmly, “we don't want to hurt anybody. And of course, if we did, it would be Mitch we would shoot. So if you'll just move away from him slowly, everything will be fine. We can talk this out like reasonable beings.”
“Reasonable beings do not break into people's apartments and threaten the inhabitants with guns. What is this all about? And what have you done to Mitch?”
“Nothing. I assume he's having a little flashback from his recent mental problems. It will pass.” Victor motioned to the couch. “Come here and sit down, my dear. Ron and Fred will take good care of Mitch.”
I looked steadily into the faces of the two men. Fred met my glance defiantly; Ron lowered his eyes, but not before I caught a glimpse of sadness. “You I can understand, Fred, you've always been a self-serving little bastard.” He said nothing, but continued to smirk, so I turned to Ron. “But what are you doing here, Ron? I thought we were friends.”
Victor laughed and beckoned me to the couch again. “As you so succinctly put to me not that long ago, âNever count on constancy in love or friendship among vampires.' ” His emphasis on the last word caused me to draw in a sharp breath that he ignored. “Ron and Fred both work for me.”
“All three of you are vampires?” I dropped onto the couch with a small, humorless laugh.
“Just so, Deirdre.”
Mitch made a small choking sound and slumped down onto the floor, his back resting against the door, his eyes still focused on the faces of the men.
“Ease up on him a little, boys. We don't want him passing out, do we? I think Deirdre will cooperate with us.”
Some of the fear left Mitch's face and his breathing deepened a little. He managed a weak smile that wrenched my heart.
“Mitch,” I said quietly. “I'm sorry. But I always said you were better off without me.”
“Be that as it may,” Victor continued, “he's now involved in this situation if only by association. And speaking of which, I understand congratulations are in order.”
“Congratulations?”
“On your marriage.” Victor's voice sounded amused.
Fred snickered, calling my attention to the two of them where they stood, their guns no longer pointed at Mitch, but still very much in evidence. Ron gave me one brief, angry glance, and his shoulders tightened. When he did speak, his tone was flat and bitter. “You don't date the meat.”
“Excuse me?” But Ron made no response, so I turned again to Victor. “And how did you know we were married?”
“You'll discover that very few of your activities are unknown to me. I make it my business to know these things. And there is one member of our group to whom you have not yet been properly introduced. She's a little insecure, being only newly one of us, and I wanted her out of the way if there was trouble. But you'll be reasonable, I know.” Victor smiled, not maliciously, I thought, but as if he were enjoying a joke. “And you may find out that you share many things in common; one might even say you were from the same family. Come out, Jean.”
Jean stepped out of the hallway, where she had been concealed from us. One look at her pinched face and white uniform and I began to laugh, sounding a little hysterical. “Jesus, Victor, this is entirely too much. Is everyone I meet in this damned city a vampire? How many of you are there?”
“Don't you mean how many of us?” He did not wait for my answer. “We'll let that go for now. I completely understand that your ignorance of our existence was Max's doing. Ill-advised, as I said before, but Max did what he liked. And you were his responsibility.”
“I take care of myself, Victor. I always have.”
“And that is an admirable sentiment, my dear, one which we all admire in you. To answer your questions, there are approximately one hundred of us in the metropolitan area and no, not everyone you meet is a vampire. But of course Ron and Jean were planted, carefully cultivated for their roles. Granted, Fred had been with Max practically since the Ballroom opened. But Ron was engaged to keep tabs on you when you returned and Jean was put into the hospital to monitor our punishment of Mitch.” He looked away from me. “I must apologize for that, Greer. We had thought you had killed Max. We'll make what amends we can.”
“Can you give him back the two years he lost in the institution? Can you give him back an unaltered mind?” A surge of anger flowed through me; these people were worse than Maxâhe at least had a personal interest in my life. And his manipulations were understandable from that point of view.
“No,” Victor said gently. “But I can allow him to live, under certain circumstances, of course.”
Jean gave a small gasp, then cleared her throat nervously. “Mr. Lange,” she said hesitantly, “do you need me anymore? I have to be back at the hospital soon.”
“No, thank you, Jean. That will be all.”
She went to the door and gave Victor a sidelong glance. He nodded slightly and she looked down at Mitch. “I'm sorry, Mitch,” she said, and slipped past him.
Her subservient attitude annoyed me. “This is quite a nice setup you have, Victor. Do all the vampires here serve you so willingly, or is this group your private little army?”
“No, Deirdre, you misunderstand the situation. They do not serve me so much as they serve The Cadre. But since I am the head of that venerable institution, I do command a certain amount of respect.”
“The Cadre? That's the organization that inherits Max's money if I turn it down, isn't it? Is that what all this is about? Money? You can have it all; I've never wanted any of it.”
“I wish it were that simple, Deirdre. The money is not the issue here. The murder of Max Hunter is. The other night you admitted to that crime; do you want to change your statement?”
I have him a short, vicious smile. “Would it do any good?”
“No, my dear. Eiither way you must appear before the judicial board of The Cadre. We have no choice.” Victor checked his watch. “And we must go soon; they're waiting for us.”
“And if I refuse?”
Fred turned around, displaying a delighted grin and brandishing his gun. “Then we shoot Greer.”
I had no doubt that he would do as he said. I stood up and smoothed the skirt of that ridiculous wedding gown. “Well, then, I can hardly refuse such a polite invitation. Shall we?”
Mitch struggled to his feet. “She's not going anywhere without me.”
Fred laughed unpleasantly. “Of course, you get to come too, you're our insurance that Miss Griffin, or shall I say, Mrs. Greer, doesn't bolt.”
I gave him a cold stare. “You don't need insurance, Fred. I will not bolt, as you so cleverly put it. Mitch stays here.”
Fred shifted uneasily under my gaze and looked at Victor for confirmation.
“I trust you, Deirdre,” Victor said with a frown, “but I'm afraid Fred is right, even if overly anxious on the trigger. Mitch will accompany us, but you have my word that he won't be harmed and that you'll both be returned here before dawn. This is merely a preliminary hearing. Certain allowances have been made for you, since you are what we call a rogue, and are unschooled in our ways. You'll be given every chance to prepare for the trial, and although you will be under surveillance, you'll still have a chance to spend a few weeks together before the final decision.” Victor gently took my arm and moved me toward the door. As he opened it, he looked deep into my eyes, his eyes a curious mix of anger and sympathy. “That is the most I can promise you.”
Once again Mitch and I were loaded into the backseat of a limousine, and once again our destination was The Imperial. But this time we entered through the back and rode an elevator down two floors.
Victor reached out and pushed a button on the control panel. The elevator stopped but the doors did not open. Then he turned to Mitch. “Mitchell Greer, you have been brought to a place where few humans have ever been; fewer still have left alive.” His tone was formal, rehearsed. “You are here for several reasons. One, you must be cleared before the panel for the murder of Max Hunter so that others do not attempt your punishment on their own. Two, you have married one of us”âVictor glanced over at me, his eyes sparklingâ“even though she will not admit that kinship. The Cadre is an ancient institution and has much respect for traditions and sacred vows. So you have been given leave to attend unharmed. But”âhis voice deepened, darkenedâ“you must not interfere in any way. Your assistance or defense of Deirdre under any circumstances can only harm her and will not be tolerated.”
“I understand.” Mitch's voice matched Victor's solemn manner, but I noticed the dangerous glint in his eyes. “You've been more than fair, I suppose, given the situation. But you've also got to understand that I'll do my damnedest to keep you, or any of your thugs, from hurting her. Quite honestly, Victor, without her, my life is worthless. And I'd happily give it for the chance to take a few of you with me.”
They stood appraising each other for what seemed a long time. Finally, Victor smiled and held out his hand. “You have my word,” he said as they shook hands.
“Deirdre will not be killed, and you won't be required to fight us for her.” He took his finger from the button and the doors opened. “Despite what you might think, we're really quite civilized.”
We entered a large meeting room, thickly carpeted and illuminated only by candles and torches. At the end of this room a long table stood, occupied by eight people, four on each side of the two vacant chairs in the center. On the wall behind the table, a large tapestry was hung depicting a dark night sky over a medieval-looking city. Ten small golden plates, each about six inches in diameter, resembling family crests, hung from chains on either side of the tapestry.
Victor stepped forward, motioning Fred and Mitch into chairs along the wall, and Ron moved up beside me to take Victor's place. Slowly, ceremoniously, Victor walked down the center aisle and the people seated at the table rose and bowed to him as he approached. Their eyes shone oddly in the light; none of them looked familiar to me. Victor nodded his head and walked around the table, removing two of the crests from the wall. One, he hung around his neck; the other was draped over the center of the table. He raised his hand and the others sat while he remained standing.
“Deirdre Griffin”âhis voice was soft but powerful and the echoes filled the roomâ“born Dorothy Grey, remade in the house of Alveros in the common year of 1860, come forward.”
Ron gave me a soft push in the small of my back. Trying to match the pace Victor had set, I approached the table, my hands at my sides. As I walked I kept my eyes on the center crest, recognizing it with surprise as one I had seen in my dreams of Max. Damn you, Max, I thought, searching for his presence and finding nothing, why the hell did you get me involved in this?
When I got within one foot of the table, Victor gave a slight nod of his head and I stopped. He raised his hand again. “Deirdre Griffin is brought before us on charges of murder. Do any of The Cadre wish to speak for her?”
I opened my mouth to explain that I would speak for myself, but caught the almost imperceptible shake of Victor's head and heard the footsteps behind me.
“I ask to speak for her.” Ron stepped up beside me and gave me a small smile. There was shock and surprise on the faces of some of the panel, including Victor's, but when he lowered his arm, he looked strangely pleased.
“Ron Wilkes, your request is granted. This woman stands before us accused of the murder of the founder of the house of Alveros. How will she answer?”
“She cannot answer at this time. As the distinguished houses know, she is a rogue, unused to our ways. I ask that she be given two weeks in which to prepare her answer.”
Given Victor's promise to me at Mitch's apartment, this defense did not surprise me. The panel members nodded and Victor raised his hand again. “Deirdre, you have been given that for which you have asked. Mitchell Greer, human, and husband of this vampire, come forward.”
Ron pulled me gently to one side and back a few steps as Mitch approached. He stood facing the panel, and I admired the determined way he held his shoulders and head.
“Let it be known among The Cadre that this human, who had previously, by certain evidences and by his own admission, been judged guilty of the murder of Max Hunter, is at this moment exonerated, and is to be held exempt from further punitive actions on our part, until such time as his true involvement in the crime can be ascertained.”
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