Live Girls (28 page)

“The obvious?"

“Walter,” Riley said, then paused. When he spoke again, the words came quickly. “Walter, if you were covering this story and I said it was my opinion that there were vampires
—
or at least people who
thought
they were vampires
—
roaming around New York sucking blood, would you make me out to be a nut case in the paper?"

Benedek tugged on his chin. He could tell Riley the whole story right now, tell him where to find the dead pimp and all about the Midnight Club and Live Girls, and Riley would believe him, he'd believe every word because he was ripe for it. But something made Benedek hold back, something told him the time wasn't right.

“No, Riley,” he said. “I wouldn't. I would quote you objectively and nothing more."

Riley nodded and smiled. “I appreciate that.” He pushed his chair back and stood. “Gotta lot of work to do today. I should go. Thanks for the coffee."

Benedek stood, too. “You'd be laughed out of your job,” he said simply.

Riley didn't speak again until he was standing in the corridor outside the apartment.

“Not if I can prove it."

Benedek was surprised by the man's confidence.

“You've never met my wife, Walter. She's a social worker, God bless her. She spends her days working in parts of the city I don't even want to
know
about. And I've got a sixteen-year-old daughter, too. Every day I worry about them, and that's just from knowing they're out there with all those crazy
human beings
in New York City. I'm not at all nuts about the idea of them being at the mercy of something
inhuman.
I can take a few laughs if I have to.” He patted Benedek's shoulder once and said, “Have a good day, Walter."

Benedek closed the door and immediately went to the phone. He had to get to Davey before Riley did. When he realized he didn't have Davey's number, he got it from directory assistance.

He stopped counting the rings at fifteen, and it was sometime after that that Davey finally answered.

“Yeah?” His voice was thick with sleep.

“Davey? It's Walter Benedek."

“Walter?” He sounded as if he'd never heard the name before.

“Davey, remember me? Walter Benedek?"

“Just a second, I'm ... just let me...” He coughed and sighed, trying to wake up. “Okay, yeah,” he said.

“Listen to me, Davey, you might be in trouble. A police detective will be coming to your apartment today. Don't answer the door to anyone but me. And don't answer your phone. Just stay out of sight, okay? I'm coming over in a while. Do you understand?"

“Y-Yes, but why is
—
"

“We'll talk about it later. Just wait for me."

He hung up the phone and hurried into the bathroom to shower and dress. He had a lot to do.

After Benedek's phone call, Davey sat up in bed and rubbed his eyes. Sleep seemed to cling to the inside of his skull like drying mud.

When he opened his eyes, he saw his reflection in the mirror across the room. Something dark was smeared around his mouth. Touching it, he found it was dry and caked.

Davey turned to the nightstand, hoping to find a washcloth or tissue to wipe away the smear, but instead he spotted a torn, red-stained index card. He read the name and address and the previous night began to come back to him in pieces.

He went into the bathroom and washed his face with cold water, then stared at himself in the mirror for a moment, remembering the fear in Chad's eyes.

Chad Wilkes had been an asshole, a real
prick
, but Davey had
killed
him.

And it felt so good
, he thought,
like a fix for a junkie, like sex, for God's sake
.

That
was why a detective was coming to see him.

He turned on the shower and stepped under the stream. The hot water washed away his sleep and made what he'd done even clearer.

A mountain lion doesn't worry about whether a doe deserves to die
, he thought.
The lion needs to eat, so it kills
.

But his conscience would not let him off the hook so easily.

You're not an animal!
he argued with himself.
You're a human being and so was Chad!

He leaned against the shower wall and turned his face to the water, closing his eyes.

Davey knew why he'd gotten that card from Jasmine Barny's Rolodex the night before. He wanted to know where Miss Schuman lived so when his hunger returned...

There had to be another way of feeding, a way that would hurt no one.

He remembered the thick reddish-brown drink Anya had ordered at the club.

House special ... for employees and members only
.

What had Walter said about blood being stored at the Midnight Club?

Stored in refrigerators in the back
...

He would go there for what he needed.

When Davey turned off the shower, he heard knocking at the door.

He began toweling off, surprised, after the last few miserable days and nights, at how very good he felt, how strong and clear.

In his bedroom, he quietly dressed, waiting for the knocking to go away.

Benedek arrived with a brown paper bag cradled in his arm and caution in his eyes.

“Are you okay?” Benedek asked in the doorway. “I mean, you're not going to..."

Davey felt a pang of guilt; the man was afraid of him. “I'm okay, Walter. For now."

They sat in the living room, facing one another.

“Walter, why are you protecting me from the police? I mean, after your sister was..."

“You killed a man last night, am I right?"

Davey nodded hesitantly.

“Okay. I don't condone that, Davey, even though I know you had to do it, but I
—
"

“You
don't
know, I don't think you under
—
"

“I
do
understand, Davey, things are beginning to make sense. Not
good
sense, not
sane
sense, but a
kind
of sense. You died last night, you came back, and now you need blood, am I right? Like, say, a diabetic needs insulin. Now, if the police catch you, they won't be able to hold you, and if they try to kill you, they're in for the surprise of their lives."

“What do you mean?"

“How much do you know about your condition?"

“Not much."

Benedek took in a deep breath and told Davey about his experience with Vernon Macy in the back room of the club.

“The wound just kept healing up,” he said with disbelief, “right in
front
of me. Jesus, I don't know how many times I had to...” He coughed and shook his head.

“I want to help you, Davey,” he went on. “If I can keep you from slaughtering people
—
like
they
do
—
I'll be satisfied. And I'd like
you
to help
me."

“How?"

“I'd like to walk away from this, Davey, I really would, but I can't. I know they're out there and I know what they're doing. I can't just run to the cops or whoever and say, ‘You've gotta do something about these vampires, they're ruining the neighborhood,’ I've got to have a place to start. I can't even take this story to my
paper.
They'd
never
print it. Even if I could
prove
it. But I have to do
something
."

He put the paper bag on his lap, reached in, and removed a wooden crucifix with a silver Christ on it. “Does this have any effect on you?” he asked.

Davey stared at the cross for a moment, then shook his head.

Benedek dropped the cross into the bag muttering, “Fuck you, Bram Stoker.” To Davey: “You looked in a mirror lately?"

Davey nodded, smiling slightly. “Yes, and I have a reflection."

“Quit smirking. You think
I
like this? This could land me a quick job on the
National
fucking
Enquirer
.” He took out a Ziploc bag, opened it, and reached inside. “Hold out your hand."

Davey opened his palm and Benedek gave him three cloves of garlic.

It seemed so ludicrous, Davey almost laughed. A vampire test!
Send in the form below and we will assess your potential for a rewarding career in vampirism!

Davey caught a whiff of the garlic and started to share the joke with Benedek but when he opened his mouth to speak he found that his throat had closed and his eyes began to water and swell and his lungs burned as if on fire. He threw the smelly lumps to the floor and clutched his throat, sputtering. When he tried to stand he tumbled to the floor, retching and clawing.

It passed slowly, until his throat was open again and his vision had cleared.

Benedek had sealed the garlic back in the bag immediately; the smell was gone.

“Sorry about that,” he said, helping Davey to his feet and back into his chair. “You okay?"

Davey nodded stiffly.

“Well, that's a start.” Benedek wadded up the opening of the paper bag. “Listen, Davey, if I were you, I'd get the hell outta the city. Go to the country, suck on cattle, and stay out of trouble. I'm gonna do my best to bring all this out in the open in a way everyone can swallow, and don't ask me what
that
is, because I don't know yet. But when I do, it's gonna be open season on your kind. I don't think you're a bad person, and I wouldn't want anything to happen to you. Make the best of your situation now that you're in it. But do it outside of New York."

Davey was still trembling. Why had that happened? It was only
garlic
, for Christ's sake. And how could he leave the city? Where would he go? How would he live? And what would he tell Casey?

“I have to talk to Casey,” he said.

“Your friend? She called my place last night. She was very worried about you."

Benedek went to the door and turned to Davey.

“You have my number,” he said. “Call and let me know what you decide to do. Take care of yourself, Davey."

Davey called Casey but got no answer, then realized she would still be at work. He decided to wait until that evening.

Standing at his window, Davey closed his eyes against the daylight. Even though the sky was filled with clouds, the day seemed bright.

There was so much he didn't know about what he'd become, about what he was capable and
in
capable of doing. Maybe that was why Anya had not wanted to leave him alone.

Make the best of your situation now that you're in it.

Davey turned on the television and stretched out on the sofa to wait for the dark. As he relaxed, he felt the tingling beginnings of emptiness inside him.

When Benedek got home, he found Jackie had left work early. She was curled in her favorite chair reading a paperback. In blue jeans and a brown plaid shirt, she looked deliciously comfortable.

Benedek held two bags in his arms: the paper bag he'd taken to Davey's and a white plastic bag filled with garlic. The strange look he'd gotten from the Asian clerk at the produce market would be nothing compared to the reaction he was sure he'd get from Jackie; she'd probably think he'd gone around the bend.

Benedek had planned to set the garlic up
—
around all the doors and windows in the apartment
—
before Jackie got home. Now he wouldn't have that edge.

“You're home,” he said on his way into the kitchen.

“So're you,” she replied, and he could hear the smile in her voice. “We should get to know each other, we have so much in common."

He put the bags down on the counter, took his coat to the bedroom, and went to Jackie's side. He slid his fingers into her smooth white hair, bent down, and kissed her.

“Where've you been?” she asked.

“All over town.” He put his arm around her and sat on the arm of the chair. “How come you're home so early?"

“My last two patients canceled and I'm exhausted, so I came home to do absolutely nothing."