Reign (39 page)

You can't . . . you mustn't do that. They think it's me.

My apologies. But can you not understand? Is seducing this lovely creature not exactly what you would have done some years ago? You have always had an eye for beauty, no matter how cleverly disguised behind a mask of acrimony. And am I not, after all, my creator's child?

I . . . I told my friend about you — Sid.

It is good to have a friend, a confidant, someone to whom you can entrust the secrets of your heart. You would be a lesser man without Sid, would you not? A weaker one.

Yes . . . I guess I would.

One little knows how much one depends on others until they are gone. We draw strength from those we love, and from those who love us. That, I suppose, is one reason that I sought to establish a bond with Terri, to have someone true, someone loyal.

I can do that. I . . . created you. So I can be a friend to you. You don't have to . . . to go to anyone else.

Ah, but one subject is scarcely enough for an emperor. . .

~ * ~

He was gone in an instant. There were no words of farewell this time. Instead he simply was no longer there. Only his words echoed in the air.
One subject is scarcely enough for an emperor
.

What did he mean?
Dennis wondered. The implications were more frightening now than ever.
What had he said to Terri? What had he done — or tried to do? And was it not
, the creature had asked him,
what he himself would have done some years before?

It was. Dennis had to be honest with himself. If a young and attractive girl like Terri had aroused him, and there was no Ann to complicate matters, he might have done exactly as the Emperor had — gone to her at night and seduced her.

But that had been years ago. He had not felt any urge to perpetrate such seductions for a long time. It seemed as though those particular emotions were simply not a part of him
any more
. But they were certainly, he realized an instant later, part of the Emperor.

The thought gave him pause, and he began to think about the other changes in his personality that had occurred over the past few months and years. He had heard people remark that he seemed more thoughtful and considerate, but he had attributed this to Robin's influence and to aging. But what, he thought, if it was due to something else?

What if it was due to his creation of the Emperor? What if this
histrion
, as it termed itself, had drawn from him those very emotions with which he had created it on stage and created the legend of Dennis Hamilton in his life — imperiousness, superiority, pride, a quick temper, and, yes, ruthlessness? He breathed a prayer of thanks that such a creation was incapable of interfering physically in his world.

And then another thought possessed him. If his theory was true, should he not, instead of fearing what he had made, be grateful to it? Might it not have, after all, drained him of his emotional poisons, making him truly a kinder and better person?

Dennis didn't know. He was certain of only one thing — that he had somehow created this creature, but whether he was cast in the role of Frankenstein or God he could not tell.

He remembered then what the thing had said about Sid, and knew that he had to talk to him about this immediately. The need for the presence of another human being — real, not ethereal — became the most important thing in the world to Dennis Hamilton, and, instead of calling Sid, he decided to go to his suite. Sid would know what to do. What the Emperor had said was true in one regard — he would indeed be a lesser man without Sid.

~ * ~

Sid Harper had knocked off early that night. He had driven Mack
Redcay
to the airport, served Dennis dinner, and was now lying in bed with Donna Franklin.

It was the first time they had made love in many weeks, weeks that had been filled with the activity of Robin's death and funeral, with everyone working at a feverish pace to try and banish the memories of tragedy, with Sid's departure to New York with Dennis and John, with work and worry and depression. Finally, when Sid had returned from the city, Donna had started her period. Her fastidious outward manner extended into her sex life only in one regard, and that was an absolute refusal to sleep with Sid when she was anything less than pristine. He had long accepted this condition, just as she had accepted the fact that Sid might be called from her side at any minute at the whim of Dennis Hamilton.

They had been interrupted during sex before, but the events of the past few months had made Donna even more high-strung than she usually was, and Sid was well aware that his lover's nerves were on a knife's edge. He had done all he could to calm her that evening, given her wine, held her tenderly, talked for a long time before taking her into the bedroom. But even with the preamble of concern, he still felt the tension, not only deep inside her, but also just beneath the surface, like a volcano about to explode. So when Sid's doorbell rang, she had stiffened beneath him and barked, "
Jesus
," in a way that made his penis shrivel instantly.

"I won't answer it," he said, caressing her hair.

"Sid?" He heard Dennis's voice, followed by more knocking.

"Oh shit," he murmured.

"Your master's voice," Donna said, rolling away from him.

"I'm sorry."

"Sure, you're sorry." Her voice was bitter.

"Look, I'll see what he wants, be right back."

She said something into the pillow that he didn't hear. The knocking came from the door again, and he rolled out of bed, threw on a bathrobe, and paced to the front door.

"Sid," Dennis said when he opened it. "You're in bed."

He managed a weak smile. "Not any more. What's up, Dennis?"

Dennis looked reluctant. "I, uh, I just wanted to talk to you about something. Um, alone. You . . . is Donna here?"

Sid nodded. "In the bedroom. I'll come over." He called toward the hall. "I'll be back in a bit."

"God
damn
it!" Donna cried from the bedroom. Sid turned to see if Dennis had heard, knowing full well that he had to, and saw that someone else was privy to her outburst as well. John Steinberg, his round face dour, was standing behind Dennis in the doorway.

"Is anything wrong?" he said.

"No, John," Sid replied. "Nothing is wrong."

Steinberg looked at him for a moment as though he didn't believe him, then gave a sharp nod, and proceeded down the hall on his way to his suite.

"I'm sorry," Dennis said. "I don't want to upset Donna."

Sid shrugged. "She's already upset. Let's go."

In Dennis's suite, Sid listened while Dennis told him about the confusion over Terri's accusations, of the conversation with Ann, and finally, of the return of the Emperor, and his admission of his verbal seduction of the girl. As Sid sat there, a great sorrow filled him. He could not help but feel that his friend was mad.

But when Dennis had finished his story, Sid sat for a moment, then nodded his head in sympathy. "This . . .
thing
sounds like nothing but trouble, Dennis," he said, trying to sound sincere. "I think you should try and get rid of it. As quickly as possible. Maybe I could help you."

Dennis frowned. "I don't know, Sid. It doesn't seem as if its
intentions
are bad. It acts the way it does because . . . well, because it knows no other way. It has the emotions that I gave it — the egoistic, childish ones. I can't really blame it for how it thinks. It's a child, a newborn, really. It's got . . . so much more to learn."

Dear God
, Sid thought,
he really has gone off the edge
. "But, Dennis, you can't know what it intends. It could be bad — very bad. Maybe there's some way we could, I don't know,
exorcise
it or something. We could talk to a minister, or maybe . . . (
Here goes
, he thought) . . . a psychiatrist?"

Dennis looked at him for a long time, his eyes heavy-lidded and weary. "You still don't believe me."

"Dennis, I didn't say that, of course I believe you."

"This isn't something a psychiatrist can deal with, Sid. I honestly don't believe this is anything that anyone has ever had to deal with before."

Unique
, Sid thought.
I'd expect nothing less of Dennis Hamilton
. "What'll we do then?"

"For now, nothing. I just had to talk about it, tell someone, and I knew I could trust you — if not to believe me, then at least not to tell anyone else. I don't want this . . . creation to be discovered, studied, examined, at least not yet. It trusts me, Sid, and I have to confess I feel . . .
protective
toward it. It is, after all, my child, for want of a better word. And in a weird way I actually feel a little proud of it." He paused, then chuckled. "With the small amount of pride it's left me."

Sid thought for a moment. "Then you think that this explains the recent changes in your personality. This
histrion
, as you call it, took the emotions of the Emperor away from you."

"Yes. And it could explain why my last performances, for the most part, weren't nearly as powerful as before."

"It makes . . . an odd kind of sense," Sid said, nodding. "But do you want to give those things up?"

"Maybe it's done me more good than harm. It's made me a kinder person. Hopefully a better one." He grinned. "When's the last time I barked ‘
scheiskopf
’ to you?"

"Well, yeah, I haven't missed that," Sid admitted.

"See, there's good in everything. Even . . .”

Sid stepped into the pause. "An emotional vampire?"

Dennis sobered immediately. "I wouldn't put it like that."

"No. I guess not. I'm sorry, Dennis, I didn't mean to be flip." He stood up. "Okay then, you don't want to do anything about this, talk to anyone else, right?"

"No." Dennis sat there looking at the carpet. He seemed, Sid thought, to have been drained of feeling, and he thought that his
vampiric
description of what was eating Dennis (from within only, he had no doubt) was apt.

"Well, goodnight then," he said, and let himself out, noticing, as he left, that Dennis didn't look up to see him go.

Back in his suite, Donna was still in the bed. When he climbed in next to her, she smiled at him apologetically. "I'm sorry," she said. "That wasn't like me. I feel so stupid."

"It's okay," he told her. "I understand." Instead of immediately resuming their lovemaking, he simply put an arm around her and let her cuddle against him. "This whole place is on edge. You should've seen John when he heard you yell."

"
Ohmigod
,
John
heard me?"

"Yeah. He was in the hall."

"It's going to be lovely to face him tomorrow."

"Not like he doesn't know about us."

"I know, but I don't think he's ever really approved. He still treats me like a daughter, even after all these years."

"Better like a daughter than like a slave to ole'
massah
Dennis . . .”

The last word fell off into such despair that Donna propped herself on her elbow and looked at Sid's face in the dim light. "What is it?"

"Dennis. There's something very wrong. Remember when you thought he was putting the moves on you upstairs?" She nodded. "Well, I don't think you were imagining it. I think he tried to — hell, maybe he even did — seduce Terri too."

"My God. John told me Terri was arguing with Dennis in the lobby. So
that's
what it was about. No wonder Ann stayed out sick."

"That's not the worst of it. Dennis has come up with this alter ego — his Mister Hyde who's doing all these rotten things. It's the Emperor."

"What?"

"The Emperor Frederick. The character. It's . . . split off from him, see? So when Dennis does something bad, like try and seduce you, or try and screw Terri Deems when he's seeing her mother, it's not him, but the Emperor who did it."

"He told you this?"

"He's got it all worked out in his head. It's scary as hell, Donna. I think he really believes it too. I don't know whether it's guilt over Robin's death or what, but something's driven him half crazy. Maybe
all
crazy."

"But when
I
saw him — upstairs — and he was in his costume, that was before Robin died."

Sid shook his head and sighed. "I don't know. I don't get it at all."

"Sid, you don't think . . . " She paused, as though she hated to say what was next. "You don't think Dennis could have had anything to do with the deaths, do you?"

"I can't believe that. There's another, more reasonable explanation for everything that happened—Tommy, Harry, even Robin. Dennis couldn't have been responsible for any of those. It was physically impossible. But,
goddammit
, there's something wrong with him, and he's my friend, and I don't know what to do about it."