Blood Lure (7 page)
“Hi, Mom…”
BLOOD LURE
J.P. Bowie
41
Arlene Ryan’s careworn expression was quickly transformed by her smile of delight on seeing her son. “Joey, I’m so glad you could come for a longer spell. Your dad will be so pleased.”
They hugged and Joey came close to tears as he held her. She’d lost weight. Now he could feel the bones in what had been a robust and athletic body. Both his parents had enjoyed a healthy lifestyle until his dad’s recent illness. Swimming, tennis and long walks were regular parts of their regimen, but his mother had told him that walking to the corner on her arm was as much as his father could manage.
“How is he?” Joey asked, reluctantly releasing his mother from his embrace.
“The same, maybe a little worse. But come on in. He’ll be so happy to see you.”
“Be right there. I’ll just grab my bag from the trunk.” Joey had dreaded this. The look of defeat behind the smile on his mother’s face told him she thought his dad was slipping away from them. This was not something Joey had ever thought he’d have to contend with, at least not for many more years. Frustration fuelled his anger as he grabbed his bag and slammed shut the trunk of his car.
“Dammit! Why them?”
Why anyone
?
He took a moment to calm down, then trudged to the open door and stepped inside. He fixed a smile on his lips as he entered the living room where his father sat by the fireplace.
“Hey, Dad.” In the month since Joey had last been home, his father had aged even more, his shoulders thin and bony, his once dark brown hair now liberally streaked with grey.
“Joey, son. Where’ve you been?” His father squinted at him through red-rimmed blue eyes. “I’ve been looking for you all day. You and that friend of yours been running around together, have you? What’s his name again? You know, the one you hang out with at school all the time…”
“Chris,” Joey said, giving his dad a kiss on the cheek.
“That’s him.” He held Joey’s hand in both of his. “How you been, son?”
His heart close to breaking, Joey said, “Good, Dad. I’m here for a few days to visit with you and Mom.”
“Visit? Don’t you live here anymore?”
“I live in Los Angeles, Dad.”
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J.P. Bowie
42
“Oh, that’s right, I forgot. Forget so many darned things these days.” He shook his head slowly and closed his eyes. “Be forgetting how to get up in the morning, one of these days.”
Joey forced out a chuckle. “Don’t think Mom will put up with that. She doesn’t want you lying in bed all day.” He sat at his father’s feet. “So, you thought up any more of your fantasy stories lately?”
“Fantasy?” For a moment his father’s eyes seemed to clear and focus. “Not fantasy, Joey. What I tell you about is real, very real. It’s just that most people don’t want to believe.”
Joey caught the warning look in his mother’s eyes. “Right, Dad. So, maybe later, after dinner, you can tell me all about your latest adventure.”
“If I’m still awake.”
“You want to unpack before dinner?” his mother asked.
“Yeah…” Joey jumped to his feet and squeezed his father’s shoulder. “Be right back after I unpack.”
“Unpack? You been somewhere?”
“Los Angeles, Dad. I live there, remember?”
“Oh, right. I forgot.”
Jared and Marcus stood in the centre of the crowded Vampire Council chamber while Jacob Quince, their elected leader, conferred with Andrew’s uncle, Lazlo Marek, the vampire who had claimed the right to represent Andrew Berés’ accusation that Jared had murdered Michael.
Trials of this nature were rare among the vampire community. The murder of a fellow vampire was considered worthy of the final death by all members of the Council. If found guilty, the verdict would be unanimous. Such trials were generally reserved for ‘rogue’
vampires, those who had set themselves above vampire law. If the accused failed to appear before the Council, an executioner would be dispatched to eliminate the offender, no second chance of a formal trial offered. But Jared, a respected member of the vampire community, and friend to Marcus Verano, was no rogue vampire, and was deemed worthy of his defence being heard by his peers.
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J.P. Bowie
43
Jared caught sight of Andrew Berés standing on the other side of the chamber and his heart filled with sadness. The handsome vampire had studiously avoided making eye contact with Jared even though he was aware of his estranged friend’s presence. Jared reached out…
“Why do you hate me so much?”
For a moment Andrew’s beautiful blue eyes met Jared’s, then he quickly looked away
.
“You know why!”
“All of that is in the past.”
“My brother’s murderer must pay for his crime.”
Jared sighed
. “I agree. But I did not murder Michael, and in your heart, Andrew, you must
know that.”
“The plaintiff will step forward.” Jacob Quince’s husky but imperious voice, commanded everyone’s attention. Quince was an imposing figure. Of Yugoslavian descent he was tall and slender. His long white-blond hair hung almost to his ankles, an affectation not too many men could carry off, but Quince did, and wore the long robes of his station with an easy elegance. “Andrew Berés, you have accused Jared Lantos of murdering your brother, Michael Berés. Do you stand by your accusation?”
Andrew straightened his shoulders and said clearly, “Yes, Sire, I do.”
“And Jared Lantos, how do you plead?”
“Not guilty, Sire. But I think I know who murdered Michael.”
Quince raised a patrician eyebrow. “Indeed?”
Lazlo Marek, an older vampire, his dark hair touched with silver, stepped forward to stand by his nephew’s side. “Why was this not brought to our attention earlier?”
Marcus held up a hand. “May I speak for Jared? Joseph Meyer and I have offered to stand by his side and speak in his defence.”
“And where is Joseph?” Quince asked, with a small smile, looking around the chamber.
Quince, Marcus and Joseph were old friends and allies, and Marcus knew he would be granted a certain amount of leeway from Quince. The leader of the Vampire Council had a particularly soft spot for Joseph, something Marcus had teased his friend about on more than one occasion.
“He will be here shortly.”
“Then, proceed.”
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Marcus afforded Quince a slight bow. “In their haste to condemn Jared, Andrew Berés and his uncle, Lazlo Marek, have failed to consider other possibilities,” Marcus said calmly.
“As the accused, Jared made it his business to investigate the circle of gamblers with whom Michael was involved. Michael was heavily in debt to a certain Bernard Fieldman. Jared had already loaned money to Michael in order that he pay off Fieldman, but it seemed it was not enough.”
“Is this true?” Quince demanded of Marek.
“There were some gambling debts, yes,” Marek agreed, “but that is exactly the reason we believe Jared Lantos killed my nephew. Michael could not repay Lantos who killed him in anger, and left a note on his body that read, ‘Death to all debtors’.”
“Again, you are ignoring the possibility that Fieldman had Michael killed and left that note.” Marcus turned to speak directly to Quince. “Jared confronted Fieldman, but the man has a bevy of cronies who swore they were with Fieldman at the time of the murder.
Fieldman is mortal, but he obviously knew of Michael’s secret. He sent his henchmen well prepared to deal the death blow to a vampire.”
“This is sheer conjecture,” Marek blurted. “And how do you propose to wring a statement of guilt from this mortal? We can’t accuse him in public, now, can we?”
Marcus shrugged. “No, but we can accuse him here, in this chamber.”
“Again I ask,” Marek hissed with impatience, “just how do you propose to do that?”
Marcus didn’t answer right away, but paused for a moment as if listening, then he smiled. “Ah yes, Joseph has arrived. The answer to your question is about to be revealed.”
The doors to the council chamber were swung open and Joseph appeared, holding by the scruff of the neck an overweight, shivering, and very terrified mortal man.
“Joseph, perfect timing,” Marcus exclaimed as his friend dragged the gibbering man in front of Quince and Marek.
Joseph marched straight up to stand before Quince. “This is Bernard Fieldman, Sire. I have brought him here so that you can hear his confession from his own lips.”
Quince let out a loud guffaw. “You
flew
him here, Joseph? Can the man speak, or have you scared him speechless?”
A ripple of laughter ran through the assembled vampires, while Fieldman looked close to fainting.
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“I think I can coax some words from him.” Joseph shook the quaking man. “You have something to tell everyone here, do you not? Speak clearly so all can hear you.”
“Just a moment!” Marek stepped forward. “A confession coerced from a man obviously terrified for his very life cannot be used to defend Jared Lantos. I will not allow it.”
“
You
will not allow it?” Quince glared at Marek. “Do I have to remind you that only I allow or disallow here? Joseph has gone to a lot of trouble to bring this man here. The least we can do is hear what the man has to say. Now…” Quince leant forward and bared his fangs at Fieldman. “What
do
you have to say, mortal?”
Fieldman shrieked and tried to break free from Joseph’s grip. Failing, he sagged his bulk against Joseph and started to weep.
“Did you kill Michael Berés?” Quince bellowed, getting a squeak of terror from Fieldman.
“Sire, I must object,” Marek interrupted.
“
Silence
.” Quince waved a dismissive hand at Marek. “The mortal will answer. Now what is it, yes or no?”
“I didn’t mean to,” Fieldman snivelled. “I wanted my money, that’s all. He was stalling, threatened me, bared his teeth at me, said he would drain me dry—”
“He’s lying,” Jared said. “Michael had his faults, but he would never say those things.
The only truth this man has spoken here is that he had Michael killed. The rest is lies.”
“So…” Quince beckoned Andrew over. “Here is your brother’s murderer. I think you owe Jared an apology, don’t you?”
“So it would seem.” Andrew’s face was set in stiff lines, nor did he look at Jared as he muttered, “I apologise.”
“Hardly sincere,” Marcus murmured.
“But what to do with him?” Quince mused aloud. “Do we want his blood on our hands?”
“Please, no,” Fieldman whined, but no one was listening.
“Actually…” Joseph released the quivering fat man who sank to his knees in front of him. “The mortal is also guilty of many other murders. Some poor souls who owed him money, and could not repay him. He, uh,
confessed
this to me before I brought him here. So far he’s managed to cover it up, but if we were to furnish the police with the proper information, it would lead to his arrest and ultimate sentence.”
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J.P. Bowie
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Joseph’s silver grey eyes glinted with contempt for the man at his feet. “Death or life without parole, what do we care, so long as he is punished?”
Quince nodded. “What do you say, Andrew?”
“I’d like to rip his throat out.” Andrew bared his fangs at Fieldman who squealed and wrapped his arms around Joseph’s legs, whimpering for mercy.
“That could cause awkward questions to be asked,” Quince said. “Although your reaction is understandable. Take him back, Joseph. Erase all memory of this confrontation, hand him over to the police. Let them deal with him.”
Quince rose from his seat, effectively dismissing any further discussion.
Joseph picked up Fieldman again by the scruff of his neck as though he weighed no more than a child. He grinned at the terrified man. “I hope you’ll enjoy your return by vampire express again.”
“No, no!” The look of terror at the thought of being flown more than a thousand miles in the arms of a vampire caused gales of laughter as Joseph hustled Fieldman from the chamber.
Marcus turned to Andrew. “I think your apology to Jared lacked a certain sincerity.
Would you care to correct that now?”
For a moment Andrew’s icy stare faltered, then Jared touched Marcus’ arm. “That’s all right, Marcus. Andrew has other reasons to hate me.”
Marcus looked from one to the other, then nodded. “Ah, I understand.”
Jared knew he had no need to explain further. Marcus was now cognisant of his affair with Andrew Berés. Marcus gave Jared’s arm a gentle squeeze. “Perhaps you should take a moment to talk with Andrew. His mind is still full of grief and torment.”
“I will, if he will allow it.” Jared took the few steps that separated him from Andrew who was in heated conversation with his uncle. “Andrew,” he murmured. “May I interrupt?”
Andrew wheeled on him, his handsome face grim, his startlingly beautiful eyes once more cold and unforgiving. “No, you may not. You and I have nothing further to say to one another. You may have triumphed here today, Jared, but in my heart, you will always be the cause of my brother’s death. How I will deal with it is to imagine you no longer exist.”
“
Andrew
.”
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J.P. Bowie
47
“Go away,” Andrew hissed, his fangs bared in anger. “Go, before I forget where we are, and strike you down!”
Marek gave Jared a haughty look. “I think you had better go,” he said with a dismissive air.
Without another word, Jared turned on his heel and walked quickly back to where Marcus stood conversing with Jacob Quince. Marcus cast him a look of sympathy while Quince’s expression, though welcoming, held a warning.
“Make sure you avoid any future contact with Berés. He is not satisfied with what happened here. My impression is that he wanted you convicted no matter what the truth was. I will talk with him myself, threaten him with censure if he harms you in any way.”
“Thank you, Sire, but it’s doubtful that I will ever see Andrew again.”
