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Authors: Karen E. Taylor

Crave (2 page)

BOOK: Crave
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“Jesus, Victor,” Mitch said with a touch of both anger and awe in his voice, “how the hell did you do that?”
Chapter 2
“F
orgive me for the theatrics,” Victor began, ignoring Mitch's question. He brushed a spot of invisible lint from his impeccably tailored jacket, and sat down at the table. “I did think that our meeting would best be conducted in private. We have a lot to discuss, we three.”
I glanced at Victor uneasily, then glanced away, feeling, as I usually did in his presence, shoddily dressed in my jeans and black sweater. He exuded an elegance and a confidence as easily felt as the power and magnetism of his being. Mitch was still staring at him and I could almost hear the questions racing through his mind. Was what Victor had done possible for us? And if so, how was it accomplished? But where I shrank away from the inhumanity of such a trick, Mitch, I knew, would pursue this new power effortlessly and relentlessly, as he had so readily embraced the unnatural life he had been given.
I shuddered and looked down at the tabletop. Victor reached over and lifted my chin. “Cat got your tongue, Deirdre? I do apologize for the abruptness of my appearance. I didn't mean to alarm you.”
“No,” I found my voice and was amazed that it sounded even and calm, “it was just a surprise, seeing you appear like that. After all, we had been told you were here.”
“Yes, well,” Victor looked over to Mitch, “what if you pour me one of whatever you two are having and we'll get down to business.”
Mitch walked back behind the bar to get the bottle and another glass for Victor. My mouth curved in an almost smug smile as I watched him; Victor might be elegant and powerful, but he could never be a match for the utter intensity and sensuality that Mitch possessed. A low noise escaped my throat, almost a purr, and I blushed, but Victor merely laughed.
“He is developing nicely, my dear. You've done a good job with his training.”
“What do you mean?”
“Come now, Deirdre,” Victor admonished, “I do have eyes and my senses are even more finely honed than yours. The glow of transformation still lingers over him. He will do well, and for what it's worth, I approve.”
Mitch came back to the table and handed Victor his wine. “And exactly what is your approval worth, Lange?”
Victor looked up at him calmly. “Quite a bit, actually. As head of the Cadre, I have the final decision on most transformations, especially one such as yours, since you now both fall into the house of Leupold. Never underestimate the ties of blood, Mitch. As you grow older, you will eventually lose your human family, but your blood clan will continue. And,” Victor gave a low chuckle, “like it, or not, I am the head of that clan.”
“I'd like it a lot better if you could teach me that little trick you entered with.” Mitch sat down and leaned back casually in his chair. “How on earth do you do it?”
Victor gave me a puzzled look. “Deirdre should be able to teach you. It merely requires concentration and practice—years, or more properly, decades of practice. I wish I could take the time to teach you, but I'm afraid my business here is not pleasant and my time is short. I am needed back at the Cadre before tomorrow evening.” Victor stood up and brushed at his jacket again. “And, although I hate to interrupt your honeymoon, the two of you must accompany me.”
“Must we?” Mitch still sat in his relaxed pose, but the glitter of his eyes and the set of his jaw betrayed his animosity.
Victor glared coldly at him, and leaned over the chair, his posture threatening, his tone of voice even more patronizing than usual. “You do remember when you promised to perform a service for the Cadre at our discretion? Well, quite simply, Greer, we are now calling in our marker, and as you value your life and Deirdre's, you will not refuse. A private jet is waiting for us at the airport and we will leave in an hour and a half. Be there.”
Victor turned to me and the anger in his eyes faded, replaced by something that could have resembled tenderness. Taking my hand, he kissed it; then he spun around and was gone.
Mitch looked where Victor had been standing and shook his head. “Do you suppose he's actually gone?”
I laughed. “Your guess is as good as mine, my love. Shall we close up now and go home and pack?”
“Just drop everything and do as we were ordered? Give me one good reason why we should have anything to do with Lange.”
“I can give you several reasons, Mitch. We did promise to do the service for the Cadre, whatever it may be. I know that we were hoping never to have anything else to do with them, but so be it.” He nodded reluctantly, and I continued. “And Victor is right about the bond between the three of us, there is no way to deny that.” I stood up and smiled at him, reaching out for his hands. “Plus, if you stay in his good favor, he might even teach you his little parlor trick. I have no inclination to dissolve myself. And even if I did, I have no idea how to go about it.”
“Okay, okay, you've convinced me. But you'll have to break the news to Pete.” He pulled me to him and kissed me, his lips cool against mine. Then he held me out and studied my face. “Deirdre, if whatever we are called to do is dangerous,” and he gave a small humorless laugh, “as I'm sure it will be, I want you to promise that you'll let me bear the brunt of it. Don't take any chances; I don't think I want to exist eternally without you.”
“Nor I, without you.”
“So then, we're agreed.”
“No,” I shook my head with a small smile, “not at all. But let's not fight until we know what the situation is.”
“Okay, I guess I can live with that, but only for a while. And we'd better hurry, I'd hate to keep Mr. Lange waiting.”
 
We made it home, and were almost through with our packing when I finally asked, “Why do you hate Victor so much?”
Mitch looked up at me from his suitcase. “It's not really Victor, you know; I could almost like him if it weren't for . . .” He paused for a minute, staring at me. Then he looked away. “It's the whole hierarchy of the Cadre. They sit in their underground warren, spinning their devious little webs, meting out their arbitrary justice.” He folded his last pair of jeans, crammed them on the top of the suitcase and snapped it shut. “They almost succeeded in making me crazy. They would've left me in that institution for the rest of my life and not thought a thing about it. They could very easily have doomed you to a hundred years of starvation and never once bothered to ascertain the fairness of the sentence. They're immoral, inhuman parasites, living off of innocent people and I wouldn't care if the entire lot died tomorrow.”
Well, I told myself, as I watched him stack our cases by the bedroom door, you asked for it. But I said nothing, and walked across the room, picked up the phone and dialed Pete's home number.
“Pete,” I said when he answered, “it's Dorothy. I'm afraid I have some bad news for you.”
“Leaving again, are you?” He sounded more amused than angry.
“Yes, I'm sorry.”
“And didn't I know it when that Vincent chap turned up asking for you. I suppose you'll be taking your husband with you too, leaving me with no help at all?”
“Yes.”
“Dottie, darlin', you know if you didn't own half the pub, I'd be firing you right now.”
“I'm sure you would, Pete. I'll call you when we get there.”
“I'd appreciate that. But don't you worry, I'll do fine.”
“Thank you, Pete. You take care now.”
“And the same to you, my girl. Godspeed.”
I hung up the phone, stood for a minute with my back to Mitch and wiped away a few tears. A horn beeped on the street and still I didn't move until Mitch came up behind me and wrapped an arm around my neck, kissing me softly on the ear. “We'd better get moving, Deirdre, the taxi's here. Are you ready?”
I nodded and we went downstairs. We locked the house, loaded the boot of the taxi and made it to the airport with five minutes to spare.
The plane Victor had chartered was a small, sleek Gulfstream; Mitch and I were the only passengers evident. The seats were plush and comfortable and I settled in by one of the windows. Mitch sat next to me with a grim smile, outwardly relaxed and at ease, but I could feel the keyed-up tenseness of his muscles as he stretched his legs out. Even though Victor was nowhere in sight, the plane began its acceleration down the runway almost immediately and made a smooth leap from the ground into the night sky.
My sigh from the window was easily audible; Mitch reached over and took my hand. “Nervous?”
“No,” I said softly, turning to him, “not at all. I love to fly. But I was just wondering what it would feel like without the plane, how it would feel to just be picked up by the wind and carried away.” I gave a small laugh to compensate for the emotional outburst. “I guess we would find out soon enough if we were to crash.”
“Do you think we'd survive?”
“You know, I have no idea.”
Mitch was silent for a while. “My guess is we would. Unless,” and he chuckled a little, “we happened to land on a picket fence somewhere.”
I studied the view from the window. “I think we're safe from that. We're over the ocean already. But I suppose if you really want to know, we could ask Victor. I wonder where he is.”
Mitch gave a noncommittal grunt. “What is it with you and him, anyway? All of a sudden the two of you seem pretty chummy. You jump to his commands, express concern over his whereabouts. Personally, I don't know why he even bothers with the damn plane at all; why doesn't he just turn into a cloud and float back?”
“Mitch,” I turned from the window again and looked into his eyes, “don't start. There is nothing between Victor and me. I married you and intend to stay married to you. I'm here to fulfill my commitment, nothing else. After that, we're free to do whatever we like, go wherever we want.”
“Okay.” He shrugged, giving me a boyish grin, so at odds with his silvered hair. “I'm sorry. I just don't like the guy.”
“I think you have made that more than evident.” My mouth twisted in a dry smile. “But,” and I reached up, kissing him on the cheek, “just put up with it for a while, for my sake.”
Mitch returned my kiss, then moved away from me and laughed. “I will say one thing for Lange, though,” he gestured around us, “he sure knows how to travel. This is quite a setup; how much do you suppose this put him back?”
“Actually, Mitch,” the door to the cockpit opened and Victor came out, “I own this plane. And, believe me, the convenience far outweighs the cost.” He went to the back of the compartment and opened another door. “Now that we are safely airborne, may I offer you a drink?”
Before Mitch and I even had a chance to agree, Victor had poured drinks and brought them over: red wine for me and a scotch on the rocks for Mitch. When I saw Victor's choice for Mitch I started to laugh.
“What?” Mitch looked at me after taking a long drink. “Is something funny?”
“No, but Victor has a surprisingly good memory. He actually remembered what you drink when you're angry.”
“Oh,” Mitch shrugged sheepishly, “I see.”
“Not that you don't have the right to be angry.” Victor's voice was smooth and conciliatory. “After all, you've hardly been away for more than a few months, and I have called you back. I do apologize for the inconvenience, but I want to assure you that this trip is necessary. And it was not just my decision to call you, it was a unanimous vote from all the founders.”
Mitch gave a snort. “And what could possibly be so difficult for that esteemed group to require our involvement?”
“We have our reasons, Greer, as I will explain, when you give me the chance.” Victor gave him a warning glare, then turned to me. “In the first place, at least six murders have occurred that lead us to believe that we are faced with a dangerous rogue vampire. Since we became acquainted with you, Deirdre, most of us have come to the realization that we have been weakened by our ritualized training.
“You,” Victor nodded at me, “have the advantage of being able to approach situations such as this from a fresh viewpoint. Being a rogue of a sort yourself, we hope that you can outthink our culprit, or at least anticipate his moves. In addition, Mitch, there is your police training—a highly valuable asset in this situation. Although, I must admit that your transformation has come as something of a surprise. We had hoped that you could cover the daytime and root this vampire out of his lair. But I suspect your new skills will only enhance your old detective instincts.”
Mitch shrugged. “And?”
Victor looked down at his hands for a moment. “And as you know, the Cadre has strict rules governing the killing of one of our own. None of us can attempt to catch and kill this vampire, without incurring the impact of our laws. But you two, since you are not officially part of the organization, can be given special dispensation in this one case only.”
BOOK: Crave
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