Vampire (20 page)

“Elliott,” she mumbled, “what are you doing in my dream?”

And the face was so close now, sharp lines and angles etched against the backdrop of darkness, and the sunglasses hiding a relentless stare.…

“This is no dream,” Elliott said.

Reality slammed into her with a terrible force. As her mouth opened to scream, she felt a wad of cloth being stuffed inside, and the next thing she knew, her dull limbs were being pinned behind her and tied together with rope.

“Ssh …” Elliott whispered. “You don't want to scream.… They'll find you if you scream.…”

She was trying to wake up now, trying so hard to climb out of the dream, sluggish with sleep and cold, stark terror. She seemed to be lying on some sort of table in a room she didn't recognize, and as she craned her neck to see, her eyes widened in slow-motion fear.

There were heads … heads everywhere … and arms—hands—torsos—body parts lined up on shelves, scattered across the floor—clumps of hair—dismembered legs—

Darcy gagged on a silent scream and felt Elliott bending over her.

“They're not real,” he said softly. “They can't hurt you.”

To her horror she felt his hand upon her head … felt it trail softly down the side of her neck.

“Why couldn't you have liked me?” he whispered. “You always ran away.”

Where's Jake?
she screamed at him silently.
Oh, God, what have you done with him, what have you done with Jake?

“This is the workshop,” Elliott went on quietly, as if they were having a leisurely visit. “This is where we take care of Jake's family. I help him do that.” Elliott bent closer … nodded. “Now I'm helping him take care of you.”

For a long horrible moment she stared at him, stared into the cloudy black lenses as the true meaning of what he'd said began to break through at last.
Jake! I was right all along—

She made a frightened sound, and Elliott leaned slowly across her, working his arms beneath her in an awkward embrace. She felt his cool dry skin against her cheek and fought back a wave of nausea.

“Don't be afraid,” Elliott murmured. “I've been with you all along. I'll be with you now.”

Darcy's mind somersaulted back to the café, to the Club, to the marketplace—
So it was you, Elliott, and Jake knew it all the time—

She felt him slide away from her. He went softly across the room and stood at a workbench against the opposite wall. Darcy tried to lift herself to get a better view and saw an assortment of knives, scissors, and tools. Elliott picked up a jar and began spooning something into a glass of liquid.

“Do you believe fate can be changed, Darcy?” He spoke slowly, in that same strange monotone, and every movement was deliberate … unhurried. “I think … sometimes … it
can
be … that some of us are given the power to do it.”

What are you going to do to me? Oh, God, Elliott, oh, God—

“It wasn't your fault,” Elliott went on, holding the glass up to the light, watching the contents swirl and dissolve. “You were just in the wrong place at the wrong time.” He seemed to be satisfied with the concoction he'd mixed. He glanced at her thoughtfully. “You weren't supposed to wake up. It will be better for you to sleep. Then you won't be afraid.” As she made another frightened whimper, his face softened in concern. “It won't be long now. Jake will be here soon.”

For a split instant she thought she was going to faint, and her mind seemed to collapse beneath the merciless weight of dark imaginings. She thought of all those helpless victims … that girl she'd found in the alley … that look of surprised horror on the dead girl's face.
But I'm not going to feel it … I'll just go to sleep … at least I won't feel the scalpel cutting open my throat … at least it'll be easy—there are worse ways to die
.

Tears rolled down her cheeks. Salt mixed with an overpowering taste of fear in the back of her throat.
I didn't want it to be you, Jake, even when I thought it was, I never wanted it to be you
.… Again she heard his words in the living room, his confession—“…
trying my hardest not to care about you.…” Oh, Darcy, how could you have been so blind!
She thought of Liz at the hospital and how unthreatened she'd feel now with Darcy out of the way. She thought of Kyle and Brandon, imagining the shock and disbelief on their faces when they found out what had happened to her, and “
I like Jake … Jake's all right.… Elliott's harmless … kind to kids and animals
—Would they realize that Elliott really
had
been following her, working for Jake, that the two of them had been planning the murders, working together from the very beginning—

“I was always kind of different.”

Darcy's mind struggled back to the horrible present. Elliott was standing beside the table, holding the glass.

“I didn't want to be, I just was. You might understand. Jake said people forget about you, too. That's why I felt close to you. Because we're alike in a way.”

Darcy stared at him beseechingly.
Please, Elliott—please let me go—

“My mother was always nice to me,” Elliott said softly. “But she's dying now.” He turned to her, his face sad. “I wish she could stay with me always. I wish she could live forever.”

Darcy whimpered again, and Elliott lightly touched her cheek. “Oh … oh, Darcy … I didn't mean to make you sad. I'm sorry.” He looked down at her, his expression almost loving, and then seemed to remember the glass in his hand. “Here. You have to drink this now.”

She tried to fight him, to twist her head away, and as he struggled to hold her and pull out the gag, she seized the opportunity to scream.

“No, Darcy, no—don't scream—” Elliott seemed distressed, and for the moment forgot the glass as he tried to stuff the cloth back into her mouth. “Jake wouldn't want you to scream … someone might hear you—”

He crammed the rag between her teeth, then tensed as there was a knock at the door. On the table Darcy froze, her lips moving in a desperate, silent prayer. Elliott patted her reassuringly and moved across the room, looking relieved.

“That's Jake,” he said. He put one hand on the door and looked back at her. She heard the click of the lock releasing. “It's time, Darcy,” he said. “It's time for it all to be over.”

Darcy saw the door swing slowly inward.

And then what happened was a blur.

There was a crash—a cry—and Elliott flew backward into the wall as a figure came hurtling into the room. In the dim light she saw the look on Elliott's face—the total, shocked surprise—and as the other figure pounced on him, they fell and rolled across the floor. As they moved out into a pool of light, Darcy saw the other's face and felt her heart leap.

Kyle!

Working at her ropes, she managed to squirm onto her side but couldn't get her body to sit up. She tried to yell, to scream, but only gurgled in frustration. The two boys slammed into the furniture and the walls, severed limbs raining down upon them, glass breaking, instruments clattering around their heads.

Darcy saw Elliott's arm flail up and grope wildly along the workbench—

She saw the gleam of a knife and tried in vain to cry out a warning—

The boys stumbled to their feet, locked together. Elliott's blade aimed downward. Without warning there was a cry, and Darcy saw Elliott hit the wall, an expression of disbelief draining his face white.

In the terrible silence Darcy stared at him … at the slash of red across his stomach … the blood soaking through his ripped shirt … flowing down his jeans.…

Elliott crumpled to the floor. And then, as if released from some awful spell, Kyle finally looked at her.

“Darcy—oh, my God—”

She was crying as he lifted her up in his arms, as he held her close, tears filling his eyes.

“I can't believe it—I thought I'd lost you—” He pressed her tight against him, and as she tried frantically to talk, he pulled the gag from her mouth.

“Oh, Kyle, it was Jake—and Elliott—I was right—all those girls—”

“I know, I know, but you're okay now—”

“But Elliott was waiting for Jake—Jake's coming here! Hurry and untie me—”

Kyle looked toward the door, and her words choked off as he squeezed her up against him. “Shh—I thought I heard something.”

As they froze there, not daring to move, Darcy wondered how they would ever escape. She could feel Kyle's fear as he got the ropes off her wrists, and after what seemed like forever, he took a cautious step toward the door.

“Brandon was supposed to be taking care of Jake,” he whispered. “I wonder if something went wrong.” A flash of panic went across his face, and he grabbed her hand. “Come on—I've got to get you out of here!'

Darcy had no idea where they were or where they were going, but as Kyle led her down a hall and up some stairs, she guessed that they had been in the basement. Now, as Kyle hesitated before another door and pushed it open, she was surprised to see the unfinished section of the Dungeon, with the tunnels winding off ahead of them. Darcy slumped against him, and he steadied her.

“Can you walk?” he asked worriedly.

“I think so … Jake drugged me … I'll try.…”

“Shh,” Kyle warned, squeezing her hand. “If something's gone wrong, I don't know where Jake might be. He knows this place better than anyone—he could be anywhere.”

Darcy nodded and buried her head against his shoulder. Could something have really gone wrong? Could Jake be stalking them even now? Could something horrible have happened to Brandon? As Kyle guided her carefully along the tunnels, she tried to concentrate on walking, but her legs felt like rubber. The darkness was terrifying to her now—full of noises and shadows that could betray them.
Jake could be anywhere—anywhere!
The lifelike creatures stood by and watched them, and she knew they enjoyed her terror, trying to confuse her, hoping she'd get lost. She thought of Elliott and the blood pouring out of his stomach—
It could have been me with blood pouring out of my throat!

“Hurry,” she begged, “please …”

She thought she heard something—
a footstep?
Kyle pushed her back against the wall and flattened himself beside her. She felt his quick intake of breath and the tautness of his muscles. From where they stood hidden, she had a clear view of Dr. Frankenstein's laboratory—the monster, the bottles, the specimens in jars, the trays of bandages and medicines and gleaming surgical instruments …

Darcy's brow furrowed as something tried to penetrate her senses.

Gleaming surgical instruments
…

Her eyes widened slowly.

The trays of surgical instruments … all laid out so neat so clean, so precise—only there was a space on the tray that hadn't been there before—a gap between the shiny silver cutting and stitching tools where something was obviously missing—

“
If you can just find whatever weapon he used, then we'll believe you
. …” Brandon's challenge came back to her now, and she leaned closer to Kyle's ear.

“The scalpel!” She tried to tell him, but her words were thick and slow. “Jake used the scalpel on those girls! It was here all the time!”

“The … scalpel—” Kyle's eyes were as big as her own, and he glanced quickly toward the surgical tray.

“Kyle—”

“Shh!”

As he moved away from her, she felt a curious sensation in her knees. She tried to brace herself against the wall, but she began to slide down.

“I can't stand up anymore,” she mumbled. “I'm so dizzy …”

Kyle scooped her up in his arms and began to move rapidly through the shadows. To Darcy it was all a dreamy kaleidoscope, muted shades washing over her in strangely comforting waves. She allowed herself one brief moment of withdrawal, closing her eyes against the rushing darkness, and when she felt Kyle stop again, she opened her eyes, expecting to be in the lobby.

They were on a shadowy stage.

The Dracula exhibit.

She could feel Kyle's breathing, hard and shallow, his sweat-soaked shirt, his quivering muscles. As she looked at him in confusion, he put a finger to his lips and then gently eased her down onto the floor. He moved to the edge of the alcove and looked anxiously up and down the tunnels.

“What is it?” Darcy mumbled, and she was trying so hard to focus in on his face as he glided like liquid through the shadows … as he stopped beside Count Dracula … as he unfastened the long, black cape …

And swept it gently around his own shoulders.

“Kyle,” Darcy murmured, “Kyle … what are you—”

And his eyes were so strange when he faced her, glittering like the mannequin's eyes, wide and shiny with a light that didn't look quite real. And he took a step toward her, smiling, as Darcy moved unsteadily away—

“Will you stay with me?” he whispered, moving closer. “You must choose. It must be your choice.”

“No—oh, God—Kyle—”

And his hand crept out of the long, black folds of his cape, holding something sharp, something silver and gleaming against the bloodred lining …

“Darcy. My chosen one … will you stay with me for eternity?”

23

I
t was all so hazy … a distorted dream … Kyle in slow motion, tying her hands behind her, only he was so quick, so smooth and sure of himself that she never even saw it happen … never had time to run.…

“They tried to save you,” Kyle whispered, knotting the rope so tight that she winced. “They tried to keep you away from me, but they failed, all of them. They should have known better, really. They should—
all
—have known better.…” His voice trailed away, and he stood over her, an eerie smile of triumph on his face. “I'm immortal,” he murmured. “I'm invincible.”