Hunger (54 page)
Authors: Karen E. Taylor
“It has been witnessed,” a female member seated to Victor's right agreed, “and it will be communicated.”
“Then,” Victor said, “we are adjourned.”
The formality of the panel instantly dissolved at his words and everyone became more relaxed. Victor walked over to me and smiled. “See, I told you we were civilized. Now, can I offer you a drink?”
Mitch shook his head and put his arm around my shoulders. “No, but we'll take a ride home.”
“Fine,” Victor agreed. “I'm afraid we have rather interrupted your wedding night. Ron will call you tomorrow evening and begin your education, Deirdre. Until then, you can pretty much do what you want. You can move about the city freely and continue your activities but”âhis eyes grew sternâ“stay away from the airport. Any attempts to leave town will result in your incarceration until the trial. I don't want it to come to that.” He took my hand and kissed it. “Good night, Deirdre.” Releasing me, he nodded. “Mitch.”
We followed Victor to the back of the room, and when we reached the elevator, Fred stepped in behind us, his gun still in his hand. “Fred,” Victor said, the disgust evident in his voice, “your obvious delight in tormenting your fellow beings is sickening. Put your toy away. And drive Mr. and Mrs. Greer home.”
Chapter 25
F
red remained subdued by Victor's reprimand only until we stopped at a traffic light a few blocks away from Mitch's apartment. “Good hearing, huh?” He turned around in the driver's seat and smiled at us maliciously. “You're pretty quiet, Deirdre. Don't you have any questions to ask?”
red remained subdued by Victor's reprimand only until we stopped at a traffic light a few blocks away from Mitch's apartment. “Good hearing, huh?” He turned around in the driver's seat and smiled at us maliciously. “You're pretty quiet, Deirdre. Don't you have any questions to ask?”
I gave him a long, cold stare. “You want questions? Fine. Just where do you fit in, Fred?”
“Oh,” he said, returning to his driving, “same as youâhouse of Alveros. Common year 1922. There aren't many of us left from that house.” He gave a cruel laugh. “And in two weeks time there might be one less. Although”âhe met my eyes in the rearview mirrorâ“Victor seems to like you. Maybe he'll let you live, provided, of course, you give him the proper encouragement. Play your cards right and he might even let you establish the house of Grey someday. Compared to most of Max's children, you're positively ancient. Me, I like my women younger, less experienced, if you know what I mean.”
I felt Mitch tense up next to me, and putting a calming hand on his arm, I warned him with my eyes to keep his temper. I knew that Fred was merely baiting us, hoping to provoke an angry response. And I wondered how much of his self-confidence came from the weapon he carried and how much was inner strength. He was younger than I; perhaps he was weaker, perhaps he could be bent to my control. I glanced at Mitch out of the corner of my eye and shook my head almost imperceptively. He understood, and gave my knee a gentle squeeze.
I took a deep breath and leaned forward in my seat with a feigned eagerness. “So, Fred,” I said, touching him softly on the shoulder, “you are one of Max's children. I suppose that makes us related: cousins, perhaps, or maybe even siblings.” I lowered my voice to a sultry whisper and ran a finger along his cheek and jaw. “You must tell me,” I breathed, “what exactly are The Cadre's rules on incest?”
He tensed at my touch, clenching his teeth together, but encouraged by the jump of his pulse, I continued.
“There is a lot to be said for experience, Fred. I may be over sixty years your elder, but those were sixty years spent in experimentation, pushing the natural limits. You might be pleasantly surprised at the kind of things I could teach you.”
“Quit playing games with me, Deirdre.” Fred's voice was curt, but his breathing quickened.
“It is no game,” I whispered to him, gently nuzzling the side of his neck. I saw that we were back at Mitch's apartment. “Stop the car, Fred.”
He pulled over to the curb and turned off the engine. “That's right,” I encouraged. “Why don't we let Mitch go in first? We don't need him here right now, do we?”
“Get out, Greer.”
I nodded and Mitch left the car. I waited until he was up the stairs and in the door before I made my next request. “And now, Fred, you can give me your gun. We won't be needing it, not now. I can give it back to you later on, after we have completed our business.”
I felt his hesitation. “Please, Fred,” I breathed in his ear, “give me the gun. You don't need it, not for me.”
Quickly, he vaulted over the seat, landing next to me; his hands flew up to grip my shoulders. I met his eyes. “The gun, Fred. Give me the gun.”
He reached into his pocket and produced the gun, handing it to me with a guttural moan. I put it into my purse and reached over to him, holding his face in my hands. “Thank you, Fred.” My eyes bore into his, until I felt that I was deep inside his mind. “It's too bad that you lost your gun on the way over here. That was very careless of you. Now, open the door and let me out of the car.”
Fred shuddered slightly at my intrusion but obediently opened the door for me. I smiled and, bending over, kissed his cheek lightly. “Thank you, Fred,” I said again. “I will see you soon.”
“Good night,” I heard him call, his voice faint and confused.
Laughing at my success, I ran up the stairs, opened the door, and bumped into Mitch, who had apparently been standing at the entrance, watching. “What the hell was all that about, Deirdre?”
I looked behind me and saw Fred pull the car into traffic and drive away. “I merely wanted to see if he was controllable.”
“And?” There was a slight tick in his cheek, as if he were trying not to smile.
I reached into my purse and, with a grin, produced Fred's gun, dangling it back and forth on my finger. “Like candy from a baby.” I took his arm and rubbed my head against his sleeve. “Let's go inside, love. I think we'll be safe from Fred for a while.”
Mitch unlocked the door and we both sighed in relief when we saw that his apartment was empty. “You know, Deirdre,” Mitch started to say, removing his suit coat and tie, “I still don't understand why you felt you had to play that little scene with Fred.”
I slid out of my heels and sat in the armchair, stretching my legs out in front of me and flexing my feet. “I had to know what sort of power I possess. It was not important before, because I never had to deal with beings like myself. But now . . .” Shrugging, I curled my legs underneath me and settled back. “It's important to know what I can do.”
“And if it hadn't worked? If you hadn't been able to control Fred, what do you think would have happened?” Mitch came over and sat on the arm of the chair. Although he put his arm around me tenderly, I could feel the tension in his body and sense the anger he was keeping tightly in check.
Attempting to lighten his mood and diffuse his anger, I joked. “At the very least, I would have had to hire another manager at the Ballroom.” Reaching up, I stroked his cheek and ran my fingers over his lips. “And at the most, there would have been one less member of the house of Alveros for us to contend with. You know as well as I that had he laid one hand on me, you would have killed him.”
“Damn straight.” Mitch gave a tight little laugh and kissed me on the forehead. “Now”âhe stood up and began unbuttoning his shirtâ“let's get changed and start packing.”
“What?”
“We're supposed to leave for our honeymoon, remember? Now that you've gotten rid of Fred for the evening, I suspect that we've got enough time to get out of the city before The Cadre exacts their vigilante justice on you. I won't stand by and let them prosecute you, Deirdre. After all this time and the way I had to live without you, and after . . .” Smiling, Mitch ruffled my hair. “You finally came to your senses and married me; I won't let anyone interfere, not the bloody pretentious Victor Lange or even his goddamned precious Cadre.”
I chuckled at his accurate summation of the scene we had just been put through, then grew serious. “But Mitch, I can't leave. I promised Victor. Besides, what sort of life would we have, running and hiding from them wherever we go? The life I already lead is bad enough, but to have to avoid them for the rest of eternity?” I shook my head sadly; the decision to marry him had been an easier one to swallow, but the commitment I had finally made to face up to my problems and not run away applied as much to this situation as to my relationship with Mitch. “No, we can't run. It really doesn't matter for me, but you, you're a different matter completely. I will not have them punish you again for something I did. And if, in the process, they were to hurt you, or drive you completely insane, or kill you, I'd be forced to take revenge on them.” I sighed and wiped away a tear. “Mitch, I love you, I want nothing more than to stay with you for the rest of your life, but I'm tired of running away. I can't exist any longer at odds with the entire universe. It will stop here. Like it or not, I'm one of them and I'll accept their terms and their justice, no matter what.”
To my surprise, Mitch was not angry at my statements. Instead, he smiled at me, his blue eyes almost aglow in their intensity. “Deirdre, we'll beat them, together. We can get you off this charge, I'm sure of it. And if not, I'd put down money that you could take them all on single-handedly and come out unscathed.”
“I wish I could be so sure. Fred was easy, but who knows how long my control over him will continue? And as for all the others, I have no experience against which to gauge their power or their reactions.”
“But don't you see?” He pulled me to my feet and held me to him. “You're a rogue to them, a wild card. They have no gauge of you either. And they've all been tutored, led along the easy path, while you had to struggle and fight every inch of the way. You have an inner strength and conviction that none of The Cadre, with all their ancient ceremonies and rites, can match.”
I moved an arm's length from him and smiled. “I never thought of it that way. You may just be right. But”âI nestled up against him, sliding my hands under his open shirt, savoring the warm texture of his bare skin against my fingersâ“let's not spend the rest of the night discussing this. I thought we were supposed to be on our honeymoon.”
Shortly before dawn I lay entwined with Mitch, admiring the shine of the street lights reflecting onto my wedding ring. A simple gold band, it was only a little too large for my finger. I smiled and, for those last few precious minutes of the night, watched him sleep. It has been too many years, I thought, since I allowed myself to love someone fully. And yet, he was worth the waiting.
When the sky began to lighten, I got out of bed, pulled down the blinds, and drew the heavy draperies across the window, then slid back under the covers, pressing myself against his warm body.
Â
The dirt road I walk seems familiar somehow; a voice in the back of my mind recognizes this place even though I've never been here. I shrug the feeling away, a habit that I've become quite adept at through the centuries. What I don't understand I tend to leave alone. A soft rain is falling, and the wheel ruts in the road well up with muddy water.
I have been traveling with no purpose for some time now, ever since Leupold made the long ocean journey and found me. He remains in that city, excited by his new life and slowly building for himself a dynasty of other beings like us. I managed to convince him that I wanted no part of his empire, but helped him to locate those that I myself had transformed. There are only a few still living; whether they choose to join him or not is their decision. I have not yet met one I would be willing to spend the rest of eternity with. I tell myself that I prefer my loneliness to their inane society, prefer to commit my atrocities with no audience other than my own belabored conscience.
I hear the carriage approach long before it comes into sight. Having left a dead body behind in the closest town, I wish to remain unseen and melt into the surrounding trees. I watch them drive by, the man and the woman inside the closed coach. They are talking and smiling, and I feel a strange twinge of jealousy for a life I will never have.
When they are farther down the road, I step out of the concealing brush. I continue walking, but suddenly a bolt of lightning strikes a nearby tree. There is a deafening crash and it falls and catches the rear end of the carriage, which overturns on the road.
I wait a minute, watching the upper wheels of the carriage spin in the air. The horses rear and scream in fright, perhaps they are spooked by the lightning, perhaps they sense my unnatural presence.
The smell of blood falls upon the air, hypnotizing, tantalizing me, and although I had already fed, the deadly hunger engulfs me again. I discover the man's dead body under the lower wheels; he lies in a crumpled heap, his neck twisted, his body crushed and his blood uselessly mingles with the muddied rain.
But the woman, ah, the woman still lives. As I open the door of the carriage and reach in for her, she opens her eyes. There is happiness in her glance, as if she had been waiting for me. My heart twists when I realize that it is probably only relief at being rescued. But still I pull her out of the wreckage and hold her warm body close to mine, carrying her farther up the road.
She welcomes my embrace at first, responding eagerly to my caresses and my kisses. Then she looks deep into my eyes, and her fear becomes apparent. Feebly she attempts to push me aside, and I would gladly let her go, but the feeding instinct has been triggered and cannot be denied.
Her body tenses when my teeth sink into her neck; she is powerless to stop me, but still she fights. God, I think, admiring her perseverance, she is strong. As I drink, I feel a sharp pain in my own shoulder. She has clawed her way through my clothes and is answering my assault with one of her own. My own blood flows and she drinks, pulling upon me with a hunger almost as great as my own.
In my surprise, I laugh and stop feeding upon her, allowing her to drink of me. Eventually, she slows and stops; her eyes flutter shut. But I continue to hold her, cradled in my arms, until I hear the approach of another carriage. I do not want to leave her, but I have no choice. I cannot permit myself to be seen.
Reluctantly, I lay her down on the road and she opens her eyes to me once more. “If you survive, my little one,” I say before fading into the night, “we will meet again.”
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