Blood Red (33 page)

“I have to get to her. I
have
to,” Mark told Sean.

They strode over to the rescue vehicle. The back door was still open; Susan was inside, lying on a stretcher.

“You'll have to question her later, lieutenant,” the med-tech said. “She's in bad shape, lost a lot of blood. The wound on her head…it's amazing her entire skull wasn't caved in. We're getting ready to take off.”

“This man needs a minute with her,” Canady said.

“All right. Come in. But she's probably dying. She's hanging on by a thread.”

Mark leapt up and took Susan's hands in his own. He willed strength into her, prayed that she would open her eyes.

She didn't.

But her lips began to move.

He leaned close to her.

She could barely form words.

But he managed to understand.

I
t seemed to Lauren as if they'd been driving forever.

The beautiful pink light of twilight had gone to deepest red, and now it was fading altogether. No, that wasn't true. There was still light. Red light. Blood red light, like a mist over the moon.

Suddenly, the cab driver stopped and turned in his seat to stare back at Lauren. “We're here. Twenty-two fifty,” he told her.

They were there?

Where
?

Then she realized that she was in front of what should have been a lovely home and realized that it had been destroyed by the Katrina flooding. In fact, the whole neighborhood had been flooded out.

That was why there were no lights except one streetlight. The connection was weak, though, or maybe the bulb was about to go, because it kept flickering on and off.

“Twenty-two-fifty,” the cabby repeated. “Look, lady, this is where you asked to be let off, and now I gotta go. Give me your money and get out of the car. I'm not staying here. If you're crazy enough to, be my guest. If not, it's another twenrt-two-fifty back to civilization.”

She dug in her purse for the money. At the same time, she tucked two of the water pistols into the waistband of her jeans and pulled the tails of her tailored denim shirt down to cover them. Then she paid the cabby, but apparently she hesitated too long for his taste.

“Lady, I'm getting out of here,” he warned her.

“Sure. And thanks. Thanks a lot. Service with a smile,” she countered.

She was barely out of the cab when he gunned the motor and shot away.

She stared up at the dark house. It had been beautiful once. As she moved closer, she could see a faded advertisement for the development the house was part of. It had been called Arcadia. Old luxury with modern convenience, the billboard explained. Every house a variant of the original mansion. The one she was standing in front of. It must have dated back nearly two hundred years, and it had been meticulously restored.

Then abandoned.

As she stood in the darkness, she saw that there
was
light inside. Pale, barely showing beneath the drapes that covered every window.

Lauren fingered the cross that Mark had given her. She needed strength so badly. Her knees were giving out on her. She felt a rush of fear and knew she couldn't give in to it.

As she stood there, staring at the house, the night changed abruptly.

The sky darkened, and when she looked up, it seemed that the moon rode across a sea of red.

The darkness around her seemed to swoop and swerve. Giant shadows, changing, forming, coming close to her.

The breeze whispered.

Grew louder.

And then it wasn't the breeze whispering at all. It was the sound of laughter, soft and throaty and all around her.

A strand of her hair rose, and she shuddered; it felt as if one of the shadows had touched her face.

She gritted her teeth and fought the urge to run. The din seemed to grow, laughter rising.

Her hair was tugged.

Pulled.

The shadows began to take form, and then, suddenly, people were standing before her, at least twelve of them, all men. They were all dressed in black. Black jeans, chinos, even dress pants. Black T-shirtss, polos, dress shirts. Some were young, others older. And they were all amused.

One man stepped forward. Stephan, standing tallest, and very dark. He was wearing a black poet's shirt and trousers that clung to his muscular legs. He wore black boots, as well, that covered his calves.

“Welcome,” he told her.

“Don't welcome me. You know I don't want to be here. But you have my friend.”

“I have both your friends, and if you're lucky and very well-behaved, they just may live. Come. Come closer.”

“No.”

He shrugged. “Take her,” he said casually.

The others closed in around her. She heard someone moving at her back, and he was close, far too close. She thought she could feel his fetid breath, teasing at her nape.

Her fear peaked. and she realized that she had to move—or die.

So she moved.

She drew out her water pistols and began to shoot.

She turned to her rear, desperate to rid herself of the creature breathing down her back. He was close, and she aimed straight into his eyes. She smelled burning flesh.

He screamed, and as he sizzled and burned, he tried to change back into shadow. He morphed…there, not there. She saw a patch of skull. She saw wings.

She fired again, and he collapsed at her feet.

She stomped on him, and he exploded into dust and soot. An old vampire, she thought. Very old.

Ashes to ashes. Dust to dust.

The others moved on her then, and she began to spin, her water pistols working. She tried, in the midst of her terror, to remember to aim. She couldn't waste her holy water; she had no idea how long her “ammunition” would last.

All around her, the night seemed to explode with cries of pain and shouts of fury. The cacaphony rose to a crescendo; there was fire, mist…explosions of unnamable filth all around her.

And then there was a roar of fury. “Enough!”

It was Stephan.

“We can't take her while she's shooting,” one of his minions said. She couldn't tell where the sound had come from and tried to find the speaker, longing to see him die.

But Stephan roared out a command again. “Enough!”

There was stillness all around her.

Shadows formed shapes again. Only five who remained standing, and they lined up at Stephan's side.

“She will drop her weapons,” Stephan said.

“Why would I do that?” she demanded.

He smiled. “Because if you do not, your friends will die. I will kill them slowly, one at a time. The little blonde first, then the dark beauty. You will watch them suffer, and I promise, you will hear them scream and curse you as they die.”

She froze, swallowing.

“Drop your weapons, my dear,” Stephan said pleasantly. Then he snapped out a single word in a terrible fury.

“Now!”

Time.

Time was of the essence, Mark knew.

Stephan had been toying with them all along. He hadn't cared how many he sacrificed on the way to his ultimate showdown. Mark even knew that Stephan had planned for him to discover his lair at last. Planned for him to feel desperate.

Planned for him to come alone.

But there was no help for it.

He slipped from the ambulance and disappeared into the crowd.

He could see Canady standing in the center of the storm, fielding questions, commanding men, and he dialed the lieutenant's cell number.

“Canady speaking”

“It's Mark.”

“Where the hell are you?”

Mark didn't answer. Instead he gave Sean an address and said he was on his way.

“No! That's what he wants you to do.”

“I know. But it's also what I have to do,” Mark said, then hung up before Sean could voice a further protest. Then he punched in a number for Montresse House, passed on the information he had received from Susan, then said, “Tell Jonas. He can get there faster.”

Then he hung up—and moved.

As Lauren stared at Stephan, the front door of the house opened and she was stunned to see Heidi and Deanna walk calmly down the steps to flank.

“Let's go inside, shall we?” Stephan suggested.

“What are you two doing here?” Lauren asked her friends, ignoring Stephan's words.

Neither one appeared to even hear her.

Stephan smiled knowingly at Lauren. “Actually, they're both rather happy to be with me. They're both so lovely….” He ran his fingers down the sculpted angle of Deanna's cheek. “She really is a beauty. And, I'm sure, very talented. And this little one…I love a pale blonde.”

“If I drop my weapons,” Lauren said, “we'll all be in your power.”

“A cab brought you out here, and a cab can take them back,” Stephan said, as pleasantly and easily as if they were eager to leave a party early.

She held on to her weapons and saw a flash of anger cross Stephan's face.

“I want guarantees.”

“You don't have the right to ask for anything,” he told her coldly.

“You have to let them go. Both of them.”

They were at an impasse, staring at one another. She thought she could use every last drop of water she had on Stephan. But would it be enough?

Five of his followers were still “alive.” And Stephan himself was so strong, capable of healing himself of wounds that would kill a lesser…creature..

Even as the thought passed through Lauren's mind, Deanna silently took up a position in front of Stephan, and Lauren realized that the friend she was trying to save was willing to protect him with her own life.

“Shall we go inside?” Stephan asked.

“No, not until I see the two of them safely away from you.”

Stephan shrugged. “You have a phone. Call a cab. Go ahead.”

She hesitated, then carefully kept the one pistol in her hand as she stuffed the other into her waistband and fumbled for her phone. Stephan simply stared at her, politely smiling, as she ordered the cab and hung up.

His smile deepened. “You've been so hard to find, Lauren. Somehow I knew, though, that you were out there somewhere. I must have sensed you would be here when I came to New Orleans. And then I saw you, through that crystal ball, and I have been patiently waiting for you, aching for you, ever since.”

“Patiently waiting?” she said. “Interesting. As far as I can tell, you've been running all over town seducing women.”

“Only to get your attention,” he told her.

“You have my attention. What you don't have is my trust.”

“You called for a cab yourself,” he reminded her. “Who knows? Maybe the fellow who dropped you off will just turn around and come back.”

“Maybe he'll report this place to the police.”

“I rather hope not. It's tricky when you kill an entire police force,” he said conversationally.

“You know that the police here know exactly who and what you are,” she told him.

“You're stalling for time,” he said softly. “You're waiting for Mark to come to your rescue, like a hero of old, riding up on a white charger. But surely you know the truth by now. I have been maligned. He is the liar, the evil one.”

“Somehow, I just don't believe that.”

He shrugged. “You will.”

To Lauren's surprise, she was startled by the sudden glow of headlights. She turned around, shielding her eyes.

The taxi had arrived.

Stephan lifted his arms. Like zombies, Deanna and Heidi walked toward the car. Lauren stared at Stephan with mistrust.

“Speak to the driver yourself, my dear. But you will hand me that water gun, and then you and I will walk inside together. If not, the cab—and your friends—will not be allowed to leave.”

Her fingers itched, but she didn't dare pull the trigger. Five of his goons were still grouped around him. She knew that none of them would think a thing of killing the driver and the girls.

She walked with Stephan over to the cab. “The ladies need to get back to Bourbon Street,” Stephan said pleasantly, producing a large bill. “Get them there safely, please.”

He made sure that the back door was properly closed, then patted the top of the cab. It drove off.

Lauren felt the gun twisted from her hand.

“Let's go in.”

She still had the cross around her neck, she reminded herself.

And the toothpicks.

She was in the monster's lair, and all she had were toothpicks.

Mark arrived just in time to see the two girls get into the cab, then watch Stephan put his arm around Lauren and lead her toward the house.

He held still, desperate to control himself; if he wanted to save her, he couldn't behave rashly. That was what Stephan was counting on. If he played his hand too quickly, he would lose.

He had to be careful not to betray himself; he didn't want Stephan's goons knowing he was there. He had to get into the house.

As he waited, he got a look at the taxi driver and cursed silently.

The driver wasn't really a man at all. Not in the customary sense of the word. Lauren had just sacrificed herself so that Heidi and Deanna could become a gourmet meal….

He cursed fate, but just as Stephan knew
him, he
knew Stephan. Mark waited.

Then he went after the cab.