Blood Red Dawn (2 page)

“E
verything okay, Mitch?” Maggie smiled at me as she wiped the bar.

“One of the dogs is hurt. But he'll be fine with a little rest. I fixed him up and Phoenix is keeping an eye on him.”

She nodded. Her total lack of interest or concern aroused my suspicions again, at least until I remembered that Maggie had never been much of a dog lover. She'd even driven Moe out of the bar her first night armed only with a broom. I chuckled in spite of myself; Moe had been the size of a bear with the personality of a lion and still our little Maggie had beaten him at the intimidation game. She wasn't our friend, that should have been apparent from the minute she walked into The Black Rose, but I couldn't help admiring her courage. She would have made one hell of a vampire.

As if sensing my thought she looked up at me and winked. “Thomas is hoping after a game of darts, Mitch. It would help all of us ever so much if you obliged him, then he can spend the rest of the night whining about how he lost, instead of how much he wants a game.”

The men at the bar laughed and I glanced at the clock. Deirdre would be back soon. To be honest, I wasn't too thrilled with going to find her, not because I didn't want her here, safe and sound, but because she'd accuse me of being her jailor again, accuse me of being overprotective. We'd fought too much recently about my desire to keep her safe by my side. And after all she'd been through, maybe she needed some time to herself. The Others were no longer hunting us and she should be fine. I shrugged and ignored the feeling in my gut, reassuring myself that she was more than capable of taking care of herself. After all, she'd been doing exactly that for more than a century before I'd met her.

“One game then, Thomas?” I said through clenched teeth as Maggie handed me the darts and a fresh drink. “Friendly game or are we wagering?”

“Not on your life, Mitch, I know better than to waste my money betting you'll lose.”

We moved over to the dart board, but once there Thomas did not seem so eager to play. Instead he looked over his shoulder at his friends still sitting at the bar. I followed his gaze and saw that they were deep in conversation with Maggie. “I wanted a bit of a private talk with you, Mitch,” Thomas said in a low voice. “It ain't all that easy to get you alone since that Maggie girl showed up. I wonder that old Pete ever recommended her for the position here. She just don't seem right to me, not right at all.”

“How so, Thomas?” I tossed my round of darts, two ended up dead center, the other fairly close to the first two.

“See,” he said in a loud voice as he gathered the darts for his turn, “that's why none of us will play you for money.” He dropped his voice again. “Jim told you he saw your Dot up at the abbey, but he didn't tell you the whole story. He seems to have saved that for Maggie and I don't like it, not one bit. She's after you, you know. Set her cap for you, as it were. I can see it in her eyes. And she'd be more than happy to get Dot out of the way.”

“Dot's not going anywhere.”

Thomas took his turn, making a half-whistling hiss through his teeth as he did so. Shaking his head slightly, he gave an exaggerated sigh. “Good enough to beat anyone else, but not you, Dead-Eye Greer.” He clapped me on the shoulder and went back to his conspiratorial half-whisper, “That's not what Jim says. He says she was with someone up at the abbey, another man.”

“And?” My voice sounded edgier than I'd intended. What Thomas said may have been true, but not for the reason that was implied. Deirdre probably met someone and fed from them. It didn't have to be anything more sinister than that. But if that were so, why did the sinking feeling in my gut continue?

“Well,” Thomas looked over his shoulder again, “you know how Jim is. A great teller of tales, our Jim is. Anyway, he told Maggie that one second he saw Dot, in the arms of another man. And then the next second they weren't there.”

“That's ridiculous, Thomas. People don't just disappear.”

“And that's what we said. And Jim agreed that it was odd, but he said all of a sudden there was this shining light around the two of them, like an egg or a cocoon. He blinked and then they were gone.” Thomas shrugged. “Some of the men here think Jim had too much to drink, some of the others think he's seen too many television shows. I think he's just trying to make trouble.”

I didn't know what to say, instead I nodded to keep him talking. The knot in my stomach felt like it would never untie. I'd witnessed that sort of display before from Eduard DeRouchard. I didn't like it happening again. Not here, and not with Deirdre.

“And then Maggie laughed. Like it was a good story she'd heard before. Then ‘Good riddance to bad rubbish,' she said and laughed again. That's why I don't like her. She's just not right and I don't trust her. If I were you, Mitch, I'd speak with her as soon as possible. Fire her if you have to. Pete thinks the sun rises and sets with you. He won't mind.”

I clapped Thomas on the shoulder. “I will talk with her, Thomas, and thanks for the game.”

“Thanks for nothing, you mean.” His laughing complaint followed me to the bar. “Just one time I'd think you could let the old bloke win.”

“I'm going out,” I said to Maggie as I hurried past her. “I don't think I'll be too long.”

“But, Mitch, we're busy here. Don't you think you could stay a little bit longer? I know you're worried about Dottie, but I'm sure she'll be fine.”

Glaring at her, I held my tongue and went into the kitchen. To my surprise, Vivienne and Sam were there, Sam examining the dog as Chris knelt by with a worried expression.

Viv came over and stood on her tiptoes to give me a kiss on the cheek. “Mitch,
mon cher,
we are here.” She gave Chris a glance and lowered her voice to a whisper. “We came in the back door so as to avoid the Breeder. I do not know how you stand having that woman close to you. She gives me fits.”

“Me too, Viv.” I ruffled her hair. “You didn't happen to see Deirdre on the way over here, did you?”

Sam stood up. “She's not here? I need to speak with her and you as soon as possible. I've been testing the blood samples she gave me the other day and, well”—he gave Chris a concerned look—“let's go upstairs.”

“I was just about to go out looking for her, Sam. Can't it wait?”

“No. I'm afraid not. Chris?” He smiled his best doctor smile at the boy, “Why don't you take the dog into your room if you can carry him? He should sleep for a while and he'll be more comfortable there.”

Chris carefully picked up the sedated dog and went into the small bedroom off the kitchen.

“Shall we go upstairs then, Mitch?” Viv crooked her hand into my arm and hugged me to her briefly, resting her head lightly on my shoulder. From that, if nothing else, I knew. And my heart fell.

“Damn. Is the news that bad, Sam?”

He looked at me and shook his head. “Let's talk about it upstairs. There are things I need to say that can't be done with”—and he cocked his head in the direction of the bar—“her listening.”

Holding the door open, I gestured for them to precede me, then followed the two of them up the stairs and, ignoring Maggie's curious look, unlocked the door to our apartment and closed it behind us. The flat was small, with a tiny bathroom and kitchen, a seating area of couch and chairs around the fireplace, and our bed on the other side of the room. The steel door and shutters had been Deirdre's and my addition to the decor, sure as hell not pretty but they served their purpose. With them shut, we could sleep in safety, knowing that not one ray of sun would ever penetrate our nest. The steel also served as a deterrent to Others armed with crossbows and guns with wooden bullets.

I looked over to where Sam and Vivienne stood hesitating right in front of the closed door. “So what is it?”

Sam cleared his throat. “Sit down, this may take a while. And afterward we'll all go out and help you find Deirdre.”

“Fine.”

I settled down on the couch and Sam on one of the chairs, but Vivienne did not join us in the seating area. Instead she seemed uncharacteristically nervous and paced around before walking into our tiny kitchen. “Have you any wine, Mitch?” she called. “I could use a drink, we probably all could.”

“You'll find a few bottles in there. Open what you like. I'll have a scotch, thanks. And if you're hungry, there are still some bags of blood left in the fridge.”

Sam looked uncomfortable. “Probably best if you throw those out, Mitch. It's part of what I have to tell you. But first I want to say that it's not all bad news.”

“Are we playing the doctor's good news/bad news game now? Just tell me, damn it. It's not like you to sugarcoat the medicine, Sam. Get to it.”

Vivienne walked back into the room, carrying a tray with drinks, scotch for me and wine for her and Sam. She put it on the coffee table, picked up the two wineglasses and sat on the far arm of Sam's chair. He sipped at his wine, then set it down and cleared his throat.

“A lot of this is theory, Mitch, but I'll give it to you in layman's terms as much as possible. Simply put, Deirdre is changing; the poison in her blood has done more than block her memories. It's done something unprecedented, something I'd not have believed possible, if I hadn't seen it with my own two eyes. I went to reexamine the samples I'd collected from her just two days ago and saw that even in the test tubes, the cells were changing. Evolving. Transforming into something completely different from what they'd been before. And into something different from any blood cells I'd ever seen, human, animal, or even vampire.”

“What?”

Sam shook his head. “I don't know exactly. I have my theories on it, of course, but I can't know for sure. In fact the only way I can know anything certain is to continue with my tests.”

“Okay,” I said, “Deirdre is changing. What exactly does this change mean?”

“It means,” he paused and sipped his wine. Vivienne rubbed his shoulders gently. “If the poison can't be arrested or reversed, but is allowed to continue in its purpose, it means, simply, that Deirdre won't be a vampire for much longer. The change is occurring rapidly in the dormant blood samples. I've no way to gauge how quickly it could occur in her, but I can only assume the process will be accelerated.”

“And when she changes? What then? She'll be human?”

“No, as far as I can tell she won't be human either.”

I reached over, grabbed my glass, and drained half of it in one gulp. It didn't help. Laying my head against the back of the couch, I closed my eyes for a second, trying to get a grip on what Sam said. Deirdre, not a vampire? Not human? Transforming into what? What the hell else was there?

When I opened my eyes again, Vivienne nodded at me. I'd never seen her this serious. Ever. And with a cold slap of realization I saw that she was frightened. Frightened for Deirdre. Frightened for herself. Frightened for all of us. This very formidable woman had lived through the French Revolution, lived through the destruction of Cadre headquarters, lived through the recent years of persecution and through God knows how many other disasters and tragedies, and had managed all of it with a smile on her face, secure in her self and her powers. And she was frightened now?

Shivering slightly, I finished my drink and slammed the glass down on the coffee table. Both Sam and Vivienne jumped and I gave them a weak smile. “Sorry. It slipped. So what do we do now?”

Sam looked guilty. There was more he wasn't telling me. What on earth could be worse than what he'd already said? “We go and find her, if she's not already back, Mitch. And then we'll see what I can find out. There may very likely be a way to hold back the change, maybe even to reverse it. I feel sure of it. But I can't do anything unless she's present.”

“And if there's not a way?”

Sam looked away, but Vivienne got up from her perch on the arm of the chair, crossed over to me, and placed tiny cold hands on my cheeks, searched my face with gray eyes slightly misted over with tears. “She will die, Mitch,
mon amour.
She will die.”

T
he abbey was deserted when we got there. No sign of Deirdre, no sign of anyone else either. Even by Whitby's tough standards it was a cold, wet night. And everything was so quiet. Too quiet, as they'd say in the old war movies I liked to watch. Even the sound of the ocean was muted, as if the world stood still.

All three of us took turns calling her name and only the eerie echoes of our voices answered back.

I pulled my black T-shirt over my head and unbuckled my belt.

“Mitch?” Sam gave me an odd look. “I doubt that she's swimming in this cold.”

Vivienne gave a half laugh and patted him on the cheek. “No, no,
mon cher,
you misunderstand. He is going to change his form, which is an excellent idea. And I will join him. We can cover more ground that way, as well as get better scents. So turn your back, please, Sam, and we will get on with it.”

I glanced at Viv, surprised at her modesty. She smiled and shrugged. “I do not wish to be observed during the change. Sam knows this, but he insists on trying to sneak a peek anyway.”

“Research,” he grunted. “No other reason than that.” But he folded his arms and turned his back.

I undressed completely and moved into my wolf form almost immediately. Not a painful experience for me, the transformation was almost a celebration of life, of the power I possessed. Deirdre struggled with it, always, fearful of dropping her human form for too long. She clung to her humanity, nurtured it. I couldn't blame her, I suppose, we are what we are. I'd not have wanted her any different. As for me, though, I had no compunction about changing. During my years on the force, I'd seen enough of the horrors that humanity could produce to regard the human form with more reverence than any other.

I padded over to where a now naked Vivienne stood, folding her clothes, and I nuzzled her hand. She looked at me and smiled. “Excellent,” she said, “you've been practicing, no?” Vivienne had been the one to teach me the animal forms, since Deirdre refused. I nuzzled her again. “I get the point, Mitch.
Adieu,
Sam, darling, we will be back soon.”

She curled in on herself, and her fragile human form became that of a deadly lioness. I knew she was deadly, she'd swatted me more than once with those claws during our training sessions and both the Wolf and I remembered the pain.

I howled and she roared and we tore off down the hill behind the abbey.

In our animal forms, the cold and the rain had no effect, so we ran, tirelessly, searching the night air for the scent of her. Halfway through the search, we both switched to our flying forms and, as eagle and black swan, we scanned the empty moors from above. Then we dropped to the ground and became four-footed beasts again, covering the ground back to the abbey slower this time. We arrived back at the ruins hours later, exhilarated but despondent from the useless run. Deirdre was nowhere to be found. I knew it; hell, all evening, I'd known the truth somewhere in the pit of my stomach. What Maggie had told me in the kitchen was true. Deirdre was gone. I refused to let my mind add the word, forever.

In silence we changed back to our human forms and dressed. Sam waited for us on a bench overlooking the ocean. “Any luck?” he asked, walking toward us, holding something in one of his hands.

“Nothing, damn it, not one scent, not one hair.”

“Ah. I was afraid of that. Because, you see, I found something, taking a stroll through the cemetery.”

“Strolling through the cemetery?” Viv kissed him full on the lips. “Sam,
mon cher,
you are growing morbid on me. Show us.”

I froze in my tracks. Suddenly I didn't want to know what Sam had found. In my mind, I sketched a horrible picture: Deirdre, sick and poisoned without memory of the world around her, crawling off to a far corner to die, like some wounded animal.

“Mitch, it's not her, calm down.” Sam knew me well enough to recognize my upset. “It's the other dog, dead. And this.” He held out an empty syringe. “Amitryptilene, probably enough to knock anyone out for quite some time.”

I sighed with relief, remembering that drug well. It had been responsible for the deaths of many of the Cadre vampires during the Larry Martin affair. Not by its use, but by its paralytic properties and the fact that it had been given in an open area shortly before dawn. The drug had also been administered to me by my stepdaughter, Lily. It wouldn't cause Deirdre any lasting harm. “So she's been taken by someone,” I said. “But who? And why?” Then I clenched my fists. “Maggie will know. She's known all night long.”

“The Breeder?” Vivienne asked, a nasty edge to her voice. “Just who did her eldest son turn into, I wonder.”

I had my suspicions. Eduard DeRouchard had a lot of atoning to do. Too bad he was already dead, I'd have enjoyed ripping him to pieces. “Let's find out.” I said.

“What about the dog?”

“Where is he?”

Sam led me over to the far row of graves in the cemetery. Curly lay there, a poor little dead lump of fur, his eyes open and glassy. I leaned over, picked him up. “Chris will be heartbroken,” I said. Then I looked up at the sky, gauging the time until sunup. “We'll bury him tomorrow night; for now, we have just enough time to get back to The Black Rose and find out what our little Maggie knows about all of this.”

“She won't tell you, Mitch. Why should she?”

It didn't make me feel better to know that Vivienne was right. I was angry and itching to take it out on someone. “Oh, she'll tell me, if only to save her useless life.”

“No, no, Mitch. That's not an approach that works with her kind. You don't know what they're like. She'll ensnare you, lie to you, and make you want more than anything in the world to believe her.”

I gave her a cold, hard look. “This is Deirdre we're trying talking about, Viv. I'll do everything and anything I need to do to find her. If it means roughing up Maggie Richards in the process,” I smiled unpleasantly, “so be it.”

 

When we arrived back at the pub, the issue became moot. The entire place was in darkness. We were hours past last call, so of course Maggie had closed the pub. But normally there was a light on in the kitchen. Or a thin flash of light coming from under the door of Maggie's room. It could be that she and Chris had gone to sleep. I had no compunction about waking her up in these last hours before dawn. Gently, I laid the body of the dog down under one of the trees and opened the back door.

Entering the room, I noticed that there was an empty feel about the place. No sounds of breathing, no scents of occupation. But there was a very strong scent of death.

Next to me, Vivienne inhaled in a sharp gasp. The kitchen reeked of blood, so much so that I knew that a lot of it had been spilled here. Recently.

I ran my fingers through my hair, squared my shoulders, swallowed the lump in my throat, and opened the door to Maggie's room, fearing the worst. When I flipped the light switch it took my eyes some time to adjust to the artificial glare. That momentary pause didn't provide enough time to prepare me for what was there. True, it was not what I'd feared, but what I saw did not bode well.

The dog, Larry, lay on the floor of the room in a pool of thickening blood. His throat had been slit and the knife that had done the job was laying on the bed next to a small piece of paper. As Sam bent over the animal, I picked up the note she'd left.

The words jumped from the page in a script that was bold and black and somehow disturbing. “Mitch,” the note read, “I have gone. Chris is with me. Do not attempt to follow us. It will do you (and your son) no good at all. Accept that you have lost and let it go.”

“I'd guess,” Sam said, coming over to me, wiping the dog's blood from his hands onto his pants, “that he died about three hours ago. Maybe longer. What does the note say?”

“Nothing good,” I snarled. “Maggie's left and she's taken Chris with her. Damn it. Now what do I do? Deirdre's gone. Chris is gone, taken by the one person who has the answers.”

“She called him Chris in the note?” Sam asked. Nodding, I handed him the piece of paper.

He read it. “I see,” he said, his voice grim. “It's not a particularly good sign that she refers to him by the name of Chris, instead of Phoenix. Nor is it good that she calls him your son. She's already tried to kill him once.”

“I should have given her twice the dose of Valium last night,” Vivienne said. “Or three times the dose. Or drained her dry of blood. The Breeder doesn't deserve to live.”

“Deirdre spared her life,” I said, with a catch in my throat. “Maggie has the answers I need to find my wife. And she has my son. I've no choice but to follow her, regardless of her threat. I've never given up on a case in my life. ‘Let it go?' ” I gave a mirthless laugh. “She has no idea.”

Walking over to the dog, I picked him up. “We might as well bury both of them before dawn. Or rather, you two should be getting back to your place and I'll bury them.”

Vivienne shook her head and glanced at Sam, who nodded. “We'll stay, Mitch,
mon cher.
We need a plan and that can't wait until the next sunset. You and Sam can take care of the dogs and I will clean up in here.”

 

When the burial duties were over, Sam and I came back inside. Vivienne sat at the kitchen table, holding the note in her delicate hands. “Where would she go?” she asked as we entered. “Where did she and that
monstre
Eduard live? That,
mon chers,
is where I would go. Back to the source.”

“A good guess, my love,” Sam said to her.

I bolted the back door, glancing at the clock afterward. “Let's get upstairs and settled in before dawn. We can do a little checking on the Internet. I remember from previous research that the DeRouchard Funeral Home business began in New Orleans. That would seem to be the place to start.”

We trudged back up the stairs and secured the apartment for daytime, bolting the steel clad door and closing the steel shutters. I started a fire in the grate and looked around. It was a small apartment, but without Deirdre's presence it felt overwhelmingly large and empty. Pulling a clean change of clothes from the stacked and folded pile on the dresser, I headed for the bathroom. “You two make yourselves at home,” I said. “I'm going to take a shower to wash the stink of the night away.”

Letting the water run hot first, I stripped off my clothes and looked at myself in the mirror, almost wishing the legend of vampires having no reflection was true. If it were true, at least I'd not be able to see the ravaged face of what I'd become staring back at me. My hair showed gray at the roots; fat lot of good the disguises had done us. The bastards had still found us and hurt us. Hurt
her
. And now, when, against all rational hope, they'd returned my son to me, Chris ended up in the control of a madwoman, a Breeder trained from birth to view the death of her children as acceptable.

I saw the fire of rage come up in my eyes and I wanted to tear and slash all of them. Pull their beating hearts out of their bodies and laugh as they died.

“Slow down, Greer, old man,” I told my reflection. “Now is the time for thought. Cold and clear, unclouded by anger. Revenge and justice will come later.”

I showered methodically, not noticing my actions, playing over the entire night in my mind. Finishing, I turned off the water and stepped out of the shower. As I dried myself, I remembered something Sam said earlier. “. . . it's not all bad news.” Forgetting the need for clothes, wrapped only in a towel, I opened the door of the bathroom. Vivienne and Sam sat on the sofa, facing the fire and talking quietly.

“Sam,” I called to him. “You didn't finish the joke. What's the good news?”

He turned. “Excuse me?”

“When we spoke earlier, you said it wasn't all bad news. So I want to know, what's the good news?”

“Ah.” He cleared his throat and looked uncomfortable. “I'll need to test Deirdre again, of course, to be absolutely sure. There might be something in her blood or in the poison that falsified the results. Still, it looked fairly definite.”

“What looked definite?”

“Deirdre is pregnant.”

I started to laugh, but the serious look on his and Viv's faces choked it back into my throat. “Pregnant? But how is that possible?”

“Beats me, Mitch,” he said, “But the results can't be argued with. Deirdre is pregnant.”