After Dark (4 page)

Baron Metzger leaned over and patted her hand. “You needn’t worry, Cally. The Van Helsings have no leader. The son is little more than a pretty boy—he’s dwelled in his father’s shadow all his life. I doubt he’ll be coming after us anytime soon, not after the losses they suffered tonight.”

“I don’t care about them coming after me. I’m worried about my
mother
.”

“Why should Van Helsings bother with her? Besides, it’s not like she’s there by herself—your father left two of his undead in the apartment.”

Cally looked out the window. “I just have a bad feeling, that’s all.”

“I have never been so embarrassed in my life—and that’s saying something!” Victor snarled as he strode through the hallway of the Orlock mansion, Lilith trotting after him in her scuffed heels. “I realize you and your mother were never close—but you could at least
pretend
to be upset that she’s dead!”

“But I
am
upset!” Lilith protested.

“No, you’re
mad
! Mad at your
mother
for being killed! Believe it or not, there’s a difference. You’re not the only one inconvenienced by all this, you know. It bothers me that I’ve been cheated of Irina’s bloodright, but at least I have the good sense not to publicly accuse her of getting killed on purpose!”

“I
never
said that!”

“Well, you’re certainly
acting
like it! It wouldn’t hurt for you to show your mother some respect.”

“Yeah. Right.” Lilith sneered. “That’s a good one, coming from you.”

Victor whipped around so fast she nearly collided with him. The look in her father’s eyes as he glared at her made her cringe. “Don’t you
ever
use that tone of voice with me again—understood?”

“Yes, sir,” Lilith whispered, dropping her gaze.

“We must get away from here in case the human authorities show up,” Victor said, resuming his hurried walk down the corridor. “Besides, I’ve got a
ton
of work ahead of me! When Irina died, all the Viesczy undead went with her, including a good number of the household staff. It’s going to take time for me to bring enough of my family’s undead out of cold storage to replace them. Plus there’s the matter of your mother’s totentanz: a woman of her stature and family line requires a magnificent celebration.”

“Do we have enough undead?” Lilith asked anxiously.

“Don’t worry—I have more than plenty. They’ve been warehoused for some time, so it might take them a little while to become acclimated to this century and its technology, but everything should be back to normal in a couple of weeks.”

As they exited King’s Stone, heading toward the parking field, Lilith eyed the skies, half expecting to see a gargoyle swooping down at her. She shivered and hurried after her father. Victor paused for a second, searching the collection of luxury sedans and high-priced sports cars for his Rolls-Royce.

“I see it, Daddy!” Lilith said. “Third row to the left!” She frowned and looked around. “I don’t see Vasily, though.”

“He’s right here,” Victor replied, opening the car door to reveal an empty suit of clothes and a chauffeur’s cap lying on the leather seat behind the steering wheel. On the floorboards sat a pair of black patent leather shoes, filled to overflowing with a fine, grayish-white powder. Victor leaned inside and swept the remains of the chauffeur out onto the gravel drive.

“I always thought Vasily belonged to the Todd side of the family.” Lilith coughed, waving her hand in front of her face. “What are we going to do now?”

“I
do
know how to drive, you know,” Victor replied sarcastically as he retrieved the keys to the car.

“The sooner we’re away from here, the better!” Lilith said as she opened the rear door.

“Where do you think you’re going?” her father growled. “You’re sitting up front with me.”

“But—”

“No buts, young lady! I’m not going to have people think I’m your damned chauffeur. Now get in the car.”

“All right! I
hear
you!” Lilith exclaimed, slamming the rear door shut.

Victor shook his head in dismay as he slid the Rolls into gear. He was already starting to miss Irina. And whether she wanted to admit it or not, so was Lilith.

T
he first thing Cally noticed as she stepped out of the elevator was the silence. She glanced up at Baron Metzger. “I don’t like it. It’s too quiet. Usually you can hear whatever movie my mom is watching the moment the doors open.”

“Perhaps her home theater system has been dismantled?”

“I guess,” Cally conceded. Maybe there was a simple, innocent answer after all. Maybe the Baron was right: she was simply being paranoid and her mother was okay. The last time she was in the apartment Walther and Sinclair, the two undead servants her father had assigned to her relocation, were busily packing up the Montures’ belongings so they could be shipped overseas. However, as Cally walked down the hall toward her apartment, she saw that the door was hanging crookedly on busted hinges, its dead bolt shattered.

After months of enduring her mother’s wall-shaking home theater system, the neighbors had no doubt learned to tune out loud noises coming from their apartment. They probably wrote off sounds from the break-in as simply sound effects from yet another movie.

“
Mom!
” Cally cried. She lunged for the broken door, but Baron Metzger stopped her.

“You stay here,” he said firmly. “I’ll go in. Your father will have my head on a platter—and I don’t mean figuratively—if anything happens to you.”

Cally wanted to argue, but the look Metzger gave her made it clear he was not going to tolerate any dissent. She grudgingly nodded and stepped aside, watching as he entered through the ruined door. A few moments later he reemerged from the apartment with a grim look on his face.

“What’s going on? What happened?” Cally asked, bobbing up and down, trying to peer over his shoulders. “Where’s my mother? Is she hurt?
Mom
? Mom, it’s me!” she shouted as she tried to push past the Baron.

“You don’t want to go in there, Cally.” Metzger shook his head. “There are three bodies: two male and one female.”

“What?” Cally gasped. “I don’t believe you! I want to see for myself!”

Metzger held her arms, pinning them to her sides. “Take it from me; you
do not
want to see your mother like that! The Van Helsings must have thought she was one of us….”

“No—you’re wrong. I
know
you are!” Cally kept shaking her head, as if by denying what she was being told she could somehow change reality. “You
have
to be!”

“She was holding this,” Metzger said. He reached into his coat pocket and gave her a small framed photograph. Cally stared at the snapshot of her grandparents, taken on their final wedding anniversary together, until the tears made it impossible to see.

Her mother had wanted nothing more than to be part of vampire society. She had completely immersed herself in their culture from adolescence onward. Although Sheila Monture could never truly “live” as a vampire, her daughter took a weird comfort in knowing she had died like one.

As she wiped the tears from her face with the back of her hand, it occurred to Cally that all her human relatives were dead. The realization was both sobering and frightening. “What am I going to do now?” she wondered aloud.

“Well, you certainly can’t remain here,” Baron Metzger replied. “It’s too dangerous.”

“But—I have nowhere else to go.”

Metzger placed a protective arm around her shoulders. “How would you like to come live with me for a while?” he asked gently.

“What about my clothes? All I have to wear is what’s on my back. Everything else is packed.”

“Let me worry about that,” he said soothingly. “I’ll arrange for your things to be brought over.”

“Are you sure this is okay?” she asked uncertainly. “I don’t want to be any bother….”

“Don’t be silly, my dear! You’re no trouble at all!” Baron Metzger assured her. “It’s not much—just an apartment I keep for my trips to New York. But you should be comfortable enough for the time being. You’ll even have your own room.”

Cally felt like a swimmer who had been caught up by a huge wave and thrown on the beach. For the last two years, ever since her grandmother’s death, she had worked tirelessly to take care of and provide for her mother. Although she was ashamed to admit it, part of her was relieved to be able to simply be a child again and allow herself to be taken care of.

“To the Plaza,” Baron Metzger told his chauffeur as he helped his foster daughter into the car. “And step on it.”

Straddling Fifty-eighth and Fifty-ninth streets along Fifth Avenue, the Plaza had been host to the glamorously wealthy for over a century. Although it had begun its life as a traditional hotel, as part of its multi-million-dollar restoration it now offered permanent private residences for those who could afford the price.

Cally stared in mute amazement at the polished marble floors, gleaming chandeliers, and decorated ceilings as they walked across the lobby to the building’s famous gilded elevators. As a child she had eagerly devoured the Eloise books and often daydreamed about living in a fancy hotel just like she did. If not for the tragic circumstances surrounding her relocation, Cally would have been elated to get the chance to walk in the fictional footsteps of her childhood hero.

On their arrival at Metzger’s fourteenth-floor apartment, the front door was opened by an undead servant dressed in formal butler’s livery, complete with white gloves.

“Welcome home, Baron,” the servant said as he relieved his master of his coat.

“Thank you, Edgar,” Metzger replied. “Prepare the guest room for the young lady.”

“As you wish, sir,” Edgar replied.

“It’s not very big,” Metzger said, gesturing to the seven-room apartment with its high ceilings, ornate moldings, and period mantelpieces, “but it’s cozy.”

“It certainly is,” Cally replied, eyeing the signature Versace home decor.

“Please forgive me for a few moments, my dear,” the Baron said. “I need to make some phone calls.”

Cally walked across the parquet floor to the living room window that faced Fifth Avenue. From where she stood, Central Park looked like a giant blanket unfurled at her feet, embroidered with winding strings of lights that were the old-style lampposts that lined its paths and byways. Everything had happened so fast, she had yet to truly take it all in. Things in her life were changing forever, with no time for good-byes. It was almost as if everything tonight had happened to someone else.

As she stared out at the park, she wondered if her father was still planning to send her away to Europe. The thought of going to a strange country without her mother kindled a flicker of anxiety that quickly grew, burning its way through the protective layer of numbness. She had always had family around her. But her grandmother was long gone, and her mother…her mother was…She could not bring herself to finish the thought, at least not yet.

She let out a shuddering breath as she glanced down at the windowsill and saw a drop of water strike its edge. She reached up and touched her face to discover she was crying.

“I have good news,” Metzger said as he reentered the room. “I spoke to your father, and he’s decided it’s no longer necessary for you to leave New York.” He froze as he saw her rub the tears from her cheeks. “Are you still weeping?” he asked, a hint of surprise in his voice.

“I always knew I would outlive my mother,” Cally said, fighting to control the quaver in her voice. “I just never thought it would be like this.”

“Although I am not your father, perhaps I can pass along a little paternal advice,” the Baron said gently as he steered her over to the sofa. “I realize that you are not completely like us and that you were raised with human mores and morals, so please, do not take what I am about to say the wrong way: if you are to live among us, you cannot mourn your mother beyond this night.”

“What?” Cally blinked in disbelief.

“It is not the way of our people to grieve our dead as humans do,” Metzger explained. “We celebrate them with a great party in their honor, and once that is over, we simply go on with our lives as we did before.”

“Are you telling me I have to
forget
my mother?” Cally asked. Although aghast by what Metzger was saying, she felt compelled to listen.

“The average human lives, what? Seventy-five? Eighty-five years, at best? Our span numbers in the centuries. To spend hundreds of years mourning the loss of a loved one—the pain as fresh a decade from now as it is today—is a torment you never want to endure. Grieving in public is forbidden in our world, for fear it will spread melancholy to those around you.”

“Does that mean I can go back home?” Cally asked hopefully as she wiped the tears from her cheeks.

Baron Metzger shook his head. “As I said earlier, it’s far too dangerous for you to be on your own, especially now that the Van Helsings know where to find you. You’ll live with me. You
are
supposed to be my daughter, after all.”

“But why bother with the charade?” Cally frowned. “Irina is dead. What difference does it make now?”

“Because your father doesn’t want to alienate his future in-laws,” Metzger explained. “He’s worked hard to arrange a marriage with the de Lavals. Julian is a Purist, just like the delightful Mr. Mauvais you met earlier. If he knew Lilith had a half-human sister, he’d call the whole thing off.”

“The guest room is ready, master,” Edgar said. “I’ve taken the liberty of drawing the young lady a bath.”

“Very good!” Baron Metzger said. “You’ve had a rough night—perhaps you would like some time to yourself?”

“Thank you, Baron,” Cally said wearily. “You’re right, I
am
tired.”

“I’ll bid you good morning, then.” Metzger smiled, patting her hand. “And remember, my dear: life is too long for sorrow.”

The guest room was not only twice the size of her bedroom in Williamsburg, it also had its own bathroom. Like the rest of the apartment, it was furnished in Versace, which, despite her earlier comment to Baron Metzger, came across as more sterile than cozy. As she looked around her new surroundings, Cally found herself missing her funky canopy bed, her old wardrobe, and the patchwork mural of posters that covered the back of her bedroom door.

As she slipped out of her clothes, she glanced at the medicine cabinet over the sink and saw that the mirror had been painted over with flat eggshell matte. It was a jarring reminder that from here on in, she would be living completely in the vampire world. Up until now, even though she had extensive dealings with vampire society, both Old Blood and New, her home life had been human.

Cally carefully folded her evening gown and placed it on the small dressing bench next to the door before stepping into the waiting bath, the surface of which was covered with scattered rose petals. She normally preferred taking showers, but sometimes she needed to unwind with a good long soak.

She picked up the bath sponge and squeezed it onto her shoulders and breasts. As she closed her eyes, her mother’s face flashed before her. Suddenly the numbness that filled her began to crack, like ice in a spring thaw. She gasped aloud as the pain pushed its way into her, filling her heart like floodwaters breaching a dam.

Ever since she was a baby, Cally had enjoyed the supernatural stamina and vitality of her vampire heritage. She had never been ill a day in her life, and what physical pain she was forced to endure had always been brief. She had never truly known suffering, as most humans understand the word. At least not physically, anyway. The emotional kind she knew all too well.

The last time she’d experienced such anguish was when Granny died, two years ago. The suffering she had endured was so overwhelming and lasted for so long, it frightened her like nothing else in her life had before. And now here she was, feeling it yet again, only now it seemed a thousand times worse.

At least with her grandmother’s death there had been time to prepare for the inevitable, and there was some comfort in knowing Granny was no longer in pain. But her mother’s death had been so sudden and cruel and…her fault. Cally wrapped her arms around her knees, rocking back and forth in the rose-strewn bathwater as she surrendered to her grief.

I should have been there. I should have protected her. It was
me
they were looking for, not her. Mom, the attack, Peter’s father, Lilith’s mother…It’s all
my
fault
.