Crave (17 page)

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Authors: Karen E. Taylor

BOOK: Crave
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Chapter 20
W
e entered the apartment. It was filthier than I remembered. “I find it hard to believe that even someone as crazy as Larry would live here.” I waved my hand in front of my nose and coughed. “It's more than foul.”
Mitch scanned the place. “I don't actually think he lives here. For one thing, there's no coffin. And Larry would most definitely opt for sleeping in a coffin. This is more of a hideaway, I'd suspect, and one that he hasn't actually used for a while.”
“How can you know that?”
He pointed to the table surfaces. “By the fact that the dust is relatively undisturbed, for one thing. If he were here regularly there'd be cleaner patches, just from his touch.”
“Then this is a waste of our time.”
“Not necessarily. He keeps this place for a reason, I assume. If we can find that reason, then we won't have wasted our time.”
I gave Mitch a wide, delighted smile.
“Why are you smiling?” he questioned. “Did you find something already?”
I nodded, still smiling. “Yes, I've discovered that my detective is back. I missed him. He's been so busy trying to be a vampire, he forgot what he was good at.”
“You don't get much of a chance to use police skills washing mugs and waiting bar in a pub, Deirdre. Not that I minded helping you out, but you know what I mean.”
“Yes,” I said, my voice saddened, “I do know what you mean. When all of this is over, my love, we'll have to see if we can find you a job better suited to your skills. I can always hire another dishwasher.”
“So, what are we looking for here?”
“I don't have a clue. You're the detective, aren't you?”
“Yeah,” he said with humor in his voice, “I think so, but this was your idea.”
I kicked at a dusty pile of books. “I think I was hoping to find something that would explain how Larry managed to develop his powers to such an advanced stage in so short a time. He can't possibly have done it all on his own, you know.”
“You think someone is teaching him on the side?”
“Yes.” Suspicions of Vivienne instantly came to my mind, but I kept them there, knowing that they might be unfounded. Knowing also that they could easily be shrugged off as jealousy on my part.
“Who would do that? Not a Cadre member, certainly.”
“Why not a Cadre member? Who else would know so much? Victor said that all of the notes delivered to the house leaders contained personal details that Larry should not have known. He must have a source of information somewhere.”
“It would have to be someone fairly high up in the organization. How about Ron?”
I thought for a moment then dismissed the idea. “No, quite honestly, I can't see Ron having the initiative to stand against the organization. He's very dedicated to Victor. I think that only a very few of the Cadre would have enough gumption to plot something like this.”
Mitch grunted slightly in what I took to be agreement and opened a box that had been placed under one of the end tables. I walked into the kitchen, shuddering at the number of roaches that scurried away at my approach. There was nothing here with the exception of busy and thriving insect colonies, the cupboards and appliances were empty.
“Deirdre,” Mitch called to me as I was leaving the kitchen, dusting my hands on my pants. “Did you ever think that maybe Max is helping him?”
I laughed grimly. “Very funny, Mitch. Max is dead. Buried. Even his ghost is gone forever.”
“But,” and he held up a black leather bound book with a triumphant smile, “his words aren't.” He tilted the box he'd been examining over on its side so that I could see what it contained. “Do these look familiar?”
I felt like a fool. “Damn, Max's journals. I'd forgotten about them.” It all fell into place. Larry hadn't needed help from anyone; all he needed to do was read the words of the master. Max had been, by Victor's admission, the most powerful vampire the Cadre had ever known. No better teacher could be found anywhere, living or dead.
Mitch straightened up and lifted the box effortlessly. “Let's get these out of here and into a safe place before he finds out they're gone.”
It wasn't until we were in a cab and halfway to Cadre headquarters that I thought to ask. “Where are we going to find a safe place, Mitch?”
“The holding cells, of course. Larry's crazy, but he's not stupid enough to return there.” He patted the top of the box that sat on the seat between us. “Not even to get these babies back.”
 
Mitch kicked open the door of Victor Lange's office and dropped the box of books on the floor. “Larry Martin is still alive, Lange. I'm afraid all your evidence to the contrary is useless. Even your eyewitness, whoever she may be.”
Victor lifted his face to us and from the bloodstained tracks we could tell that he had been crying. “Jesus, Victor,” I rushed to him and knelt next to his chair. “What's happened?”
“It was Ron.”
“Ron?” Mitch's voice was gentler now. “What about Ron?”
“The body in the park was Ron's.”
“Oh, God, no.” I felt tears spring up in my eyes, for Victor's sorrow and for my own. Ron had been both my lover and my friend.
“Why would he do this to me?” Victor sobbed uncontrollably and I patted his shoulder, trying to offer what little comfort I could. “Ron was my son. No, he was even closer than a son; out of all my offspring, he was the finest and the best. How could he kill himself without even saying a word to me first?”
Mitch crossed over to stand in front of Victor's desk. “Ron didn't commit suicide, Victor. He was killed by Larry Martin.”
“Larry Martin is dead.”
I thought that if I had to hear those words from his mouth one more time I would scream. In deference to Victor's pain, though, I said nothing.
Mitch held no similar compunction. “Bloody hell, Victor, haven't you been listening? Larry Martin is still alive and kicking. Very much so. He is more powerful than you can imagine and capable of much more than the simple parlor trick he used to escape from your escape-proof cells. To top all of that, he is about as crazy as they come. And he seems to have found an easy, sure-fire way to kill vampires.”
Victor rose from his chair, pushing me away. He took no further notice of me even when I rose to my feet and stepped back out of his way. He did look at Mitch and opened his mouth as if to say something, but closed it again, shaking his head. Shuffling past Mitch to the doorway, he seemed like an old, old man. I remembered that he had reacted this way after Max's true death; it had been a horrible sight then. But he had recovered quickly from that blow and his sanity had not been affected. Apparently, Ron's death stole not only his vitality and youthfulness, but his mind and his ability to reason as well.
He turned back to us for a second, straightening himself up somewhat, almost returning to life. “Chase after shadows all you like, Greer. Go hunting for the ghost of Larry Martin if it makes you happy. You have my permission, in fact, you have my blessing.” He laughed, a mocking cackle of his former strength. “For that matter, you can have my job. The Cadre is yours, now. Destroy it or save it, it's all the same to me. Ron is dead. And I,” he sighed, a tired and sorrowful exhalation, “I have lived too long.”
“Victor,” I called after him, pleading for his return.
His lifeless eyes caught mine and held them. “I hope you understand that this is all your doing, my dear.” The cruel words were delivered in a voice so devoid of emotion he might just as well have been discussing the weather. “Ultimately and undeniably your responsibility. That old bastard Max would have been proud of you.” Victor looked away and around the office; the finality of the gesture tore at my heart. “I'll be in my room if anyone wants me.”
The room was silent except for the ticking of the clock on the desk. Mitch and I stared at each other for a while, then both turned when we heard footsteps in the hall. Vivienne rushed in, breathless and tearful. “Was that Victor?” she asked in disbelief.
“Yes, Vivienne, it was.” I felt myself warming toward her, now that I realized that she might not be in league with Larry Martin.
“Mon dieu,
what has happened to him?”
“Ron is dead.”
She nodded solemnly,
“Oui,
so I heard. That is why I came down here to Victor. Oh, the poor man, will he be all right, do you think?”
“I doubt it,” Mitch said with certainty.
“Then who will be in charge?”
Mitch cleared his throat. “Surprisingly enough, Victor gave the job to me.”
I looked at Mitch and my laughter was hollow. “You see, my love, I told you we would find a job to fit your abilities. But I had no idea it would be so soon.”
“I'm glad,” Vivienne said with conviction. “It's no surprise to me. You are young and powerful, Mitch. We all know this and admire you. You were the perfect choice.”
“Well,” he looked embarrassed, but his tone was firm and commanding, “I don't know how perfect I'll prove to be, but I will try to get us all out of this in one piece. The first thing we need to do is call a general meeting.”
“I'll gather the house leaders for you, Mitch.” She glanced at the clock. It was barely one. “I assume you'll want them here tonight, before another sunrise.”
“That would be best, don't you think?”
“It will be difficult, but I will try to get them all together. Shall I tell them the council room at four?”
“That sounds good. And thanks, Vivienne. Your support will be very helpful with the other leaders.”
She laughed. “You're welcome, Mitch, but don't overestimate my influence with the Cadre. I am tolerated simply because of my age and my power. I am not as well respected as Victor, nor am I as feared as Max was. But I'll give whatever support I can. I enjoy my life too much to want to end up a heap of ashes on a park bench.” She gave us each a small salute and rushed out the door and down the hall.
“Amen to that,” I said.
Mitch walked over to the desk and sat down in Victor's chair.
“How does it feel?”
“Frightening. As if someone just told me I'd been elected president.”
“Well, in a way, I suppose you have.”
Idly, he flipped through the Rolodex on the top of the desk. “Yeah, I guess you're right. But you know as well as I that this isn't what Victor intended.”
“True,” I agreed, “but who better to fight a rogue than another one? And now instead of having the Cadre at our throats, we'll have them protecting our backs.”
“I wouldn't be too sure of that, Deirdre. But it would be nice to think so.”
I curled up in one of the side chairs at Victor's desk and took notice of the surroundings for the first time. The office was bleak and sparsely decorated, the walls were painted stark white and held only two adornments. One was a smaller representation of the large mural that hung in the judgment hall, depicting a medieval city by night. The second was the seal of the House of Leupold.
The desk was easily the most impressive piece of furniture in the room. Made of solid mahogany, it was massive and solid, the top surface highly polished, reflecting in its gloss a small brass carriage clock and the Rolodex that Mitch had been inspecting, along with a desk calendar, blotter and telephone. The chairs were high-backed and covered with burgundy leather, and I thought, wiggling slightly, very uncomfortable.
Through a door off to the right was another office. From what I could see, it was more modern and more comfortable. I got up from my chair and peered inside. This was where Ron had worked, no doubt. His death seemed unreal to me, and that fact saddened me even more. “Damn,” I swore softly and wiped the tears away from my eyes.
“What's the matter, Deirdre?” Mitch got up from the desk and came over to me, draping his arm around my shoulder and pulling me close to him.
“Nothing. And everything.”
“Strangely enough, I know what you mean.” He went back to the center of the office and picked up the box holding Max's journals. “Let's get out of here, for now. I have no desire to spend the rest of the night pawing through Victor's desk.”
“What are you going to do with those?” I asked him as we turned out the lights and left the office.
“For now, they'll stay with me. I'm the only one I trust enough to guard them. After the council meeting, we'll put them down in the cells. Although I'm really hoping I'll have a chance to read them soon.”
We trailed back down the winding corridors to our room. I hesitated just a bit before opening the door; I no longer felt safe here. I wondered if I would ever feel safe again.

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