Crave (42 page)

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Authors: Karen E. Taylor

BOOK: Crave
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Chapter 23
S
am misunderstood my reluctance. I had no fear of my welcome from the Cadre. Regardless of the bad blood that had flowed between us, they had to take me in. Kinship meant a great deal to those whose real families had died centuries ago. For most of them, this organization was all they had. And I knew that I could hold my own with all of them, should I have to force my way in.
No, my problem was not with the Cadre. It was this place, so fraught with memories and ghosts of love.
Damn it,
I thought, as we got onto the elevator to the restaurant,
how the hell can less than five years with one person make such a difference?
Five years was nothing to me. Five years was a mere blink, a moment. And yet, that minuscule portion of time defined me, baptized me. Mitch had washed me clean with his blood and his love.
And now he is gone,
the Cat growled within me,
and we will be better without him.
“Never.”
Sam gave me a curious look as the elevator doors opened. “What?”
“Nothing. Just having an argument with myself.”
He smiled. “Let me know who wins, okay?”
We entered the bar of The Imperial, and Sam spotted a table in a corner. “Why don't you go sit down and order us a drink of something? I'll see who's around.”
I crossed the room, feeling horribly out of place, dressed as I was in jeans and flannel shirt. But when I sat down, I took off the shirt. At least the tank top underneath was moderately fashionable and mildly sexy. I laughed to myself as I motioned to a waiter. My clothes did not matter, my self-image did not matter. No one ever saw the same person I saw in the mirror. They only saw the vampire mystique.
“Good evening,” the waiter said automatically, then actually looked at me and smiled. “Oh, hi, you're back. Nice to see you again. You drinking wine tonight?”
“Excuse me?” I studied his face and had no recollection of ever having seen him before.
“Wine? Are you having wine?”
“Wine would be fine, thank you. Two glasses, please, and I prefer red, if you would be so kind.”
He laughed. “Like I could forget the kind of wine you drink. Be right back.”
I watched him walk away. I suppose it was possible that I'd had dealings with him at some point. But it would've been over a year ago and I should have remembered.
Then Sam waved from the other side of the room and began walking in my direction, accompanied by one of the largest men I'd ever seen. For all of that, the man remained distinctive and powerful, and I guessed that this must be the Claude of whom Sam had spoken.
His face creased in a smile of recognition, mounds of flesh narrowing his eyes. Pushing Sam aside, he surprised me by leaning over the table and kissing me first on one cheek, then on the other.
“Ma chérie,”
he said. “I am happy to see you back so soon. But without your perfume. And how is our friend, the bokor?”
I pulled away from his unwelcome attention. “Excuse me? Do I know you?”
“But of course you do.” Then he stopped and stared deep into my eyes. “Oh. My. You aren't Lily, are you?”
I held his gaze until sweat began to form on his forehead. Then I dropped him. “No, I am not Lily. I am Deirdre Griffin. Or Dorothy Grey, if you prefer. Of the house of Alveros. And you?”
He relaxed and took out an embroidered handkerchief to wipe his brow. Stashing it back inside his vest pocket, he made a little bow and gave my hand a small kiss. “Claude Adams, newest member of the house of Courbet. Miss Griffin, I do apologize for my untoward familiarity.”
“No matter, Claude. I see Vivienne has taught you proper manners at least.” I smiled at him. “Now, why on earth would you think I was someone called Lily?”
“I met a charming little woman-child about two weeks ago. She was staying at my hotel—I own the Westwood Hotel, Miss Griffin, and should you ever need a room, we would be most happy to serve you.”
“Thank you. And the woman?”
“Oh, it is just that the resemblance is so striking. I see little differences now, of course, and I knew at the time that she wasn't quite one of us. But she could be your twin. She'd come to town from New Orleans, she'd told me. And since I was from the same city, well, we sort of had a bond. She came here fairly often, for about two weeks, I think. And then she was gone without even a good-bye. We shipped some boxes for her at the hotel, to an address in New Orleans, so she must have gone back. I never did find out why she was here; perhaps it was a familial matter.”
“And her name is Lily?”
Claude nodded. “Lily Williams, yes. I would remember anyway, even if we'd never had any further contact outside the hotel. She had been paying for her room in cash at first, and there was some problem with that at registration. You can't get anywhere these days without a credit card, you know?”
I gave a rough laugh. “Yes, I do indeed.”
“Although, now that I think about it, she checked out with a card. Funny, after that scene at registration, when she swore up and down she hadn't one.”
The waiter came over and brought us our wine. “Thanks, Bobby,” Claude said. “Bring another glass for me, if you will. And put it all on my tab.”
I sipped my wine and nodded. “Serving the good stuff, I see.”
Claude laughed. “Bobby must think you are Lily also. She managed to develop very expensive tastes while she was here. After confessing to me that first night we all sat down together that the last bottle of wine she'd drunk was swill, I found the change interesting. But looking back, I think now she was merely trying to impress Victor.”
“Victor?” I choked. “Victor met this woman?”
“Yes. He was quite adamant about being introduced to her, as I remember. It had been a while since he'd shown any interest in anything, so I obliged him.”
Sam cleared his throat. “If Victor didn't comment on the resemblance, Claude, it can't have been all that great.”
“No, I swear, Sam. They are almost identical. But Victor”—Claude shrugged and made a small motion to his head—“well, he's not quite right, so perhaps he does not remember Miss Griffin.”
“For Victor to not remember me, Claude, he would have to be dead.” I shook my head. “And this whole affair is all very strange. A woman arrives here from New Orleans; my identical twin, but with bad taste in wine. She stays at your hotel and befriends you to the point where you bring her here and introduce her to Victor. Who doesn't recognize the resemblance. She runs up huge bills, which she manages to pay with a previously nonexistent credit card. Then vanishes again, supposedly for New Orleans. A rather hard-to-believe story, I think.”
“But it's all true, Miss Griffin.” Claude dabbed his forehead again, this time with one of the cocktail napkins. “Except for my bringing her here. She was just here, having had dinner with one of our regulars.”
I sighed. “Which one of your regulars?”
“Betsy McCain. Do you know her?”
I jumped up from my seat, managing to knock into the waiter who was bringing Claude's wine. The glass fell to the floor and shattered at my feet, splashing the legs of my jeans with wine. “Great, just bloody great. And so appropriate that I go stained to this meeting.”
“Deirdre?” Sam stood up and touched my arm. “What is it? What meeting?”
“I need to see Victor. Right now.”
Claude rolled his eyes. “I don't think that is possible, Miss Griffin. He's not supposed to have visitors. He is, as I have said . . .”
“Do not try to tell me again, Claude, that Victor is not right. He is the oldest. And the most powerful among us. If he chooses to have you all think that he is senile, then that is what you will think. And I would be willing to bet my now-nonexistent fortune that he's been having at least one goddamned visitor. A charming little woman-child by the name of Lily Williams.”
Claude shook his head. “Even so, I cannot take you to him.”
I reached over and touched his hand, not so gently sinking my nails into his skin. His eyes rose to meet mine. “But of course you can, Claude,” I said, smiling. “Of course you can. In fact, it will be your great pleasure to do this. Isn't that true?”
The expression on his face changed from reluctance to eagerness. “Of course, Miss Griffin. We can go right now if you'd like.”
“Yes, I would like, Claude. Thank you so much.”
He got up first, and Sam and I followed him. “What is this all about, Deirdre?” Sam whispered to me as we headed for the private elevator that led to Cadre headquarters.
“Victor is about as senile as you, Sam. The old bastard set this whole thing up. Found a woman who looked enough like me to be me. Taught her. Financed her. With my money, I suspect, but that does not matter at this point. Then sent her to Maine to seduce Mitch away from me.”
“Maybe not seduce,” Sam started to say, but Claude interrupted him.
“Sam, I'm sorry, but you at least have to stay here,” he said. “Vivienne will have my hide if you set foot past the restaurant without her.”
Sam glared at him. “I'm looking after Miss Griffin's best interests. I should be there.”
I gave him a small hug. “No need for you to get further involved, Sam. I will let you know how it all turns out.”
“But who will protect you?”
I looked at him for a second, my mouth twisted into a half smile. “The Cat, of course. As she always does.”
The elevator door opened; Claude made a courtly gesture with his arm. “After you, Miss Griffin.”
“I will be fine, Sam. Go home, get some rest. I'll call you tomorrow sometime. And thank you.” On impulse I leaned up and kissed his cheek. “You'll always be my white knight.”
Claude had a smirk on his face as the doors closed.
“What is your problem?” I demanded.
“No problem. You seem pretty free and easy with Miss Courbet's human, though. I'll have something to trade her if she gets angry about this visit to Victor. I shouldn't be taking you. Why am I taking you?”
“Because I asked you.”
He patted his forehead with his handkerchief again. “Yeah, that's why.”
The doors opened onto a maze of gray halls and a gray floor. I'd forgotten how bleak this place was. Elly's boots made a horrible racket on the concrete floor. The last time I was here I was barefooted and the occupant of the cell was Larry Martin.
I shivered, and Claude looked over at me. “Chilly down here, isn't it?”
I laughed, trying to hide my nervousness. “Someone should start a fire; it would do the place a world of good.”
Claude inserted his key into the outer door. The waiting area had changed a bit. The sun lights were dimmer and the partial wall that used to screen the tanks had been converted to a full wall with a door.
“It's in here.” Claude moved over to the door that led to the holding room.
“I know where it is, Claude. I have been here before, although it has changed a bit.”
“We redid the area. For Victor, you know, so he would be more comfortable.”
“That is admirable. Although how this place could ever be comfortable . . .” My voice trailed off.
“Miss Griffin?”
“Pardon me, Claude. Bad memories. You may go now.”
“Oh, no, I'm not that crazed. I'm staying with you. I like having my skin on my body.”
“Fine,” I agreed, thinking I would need what little strength it would take to convince him to leave for this meeting with Victor. I took a deep breath and pushed the door open.
The tanks were bigger than I remembered. And Victor was getting first-class treatment, it seemed, since he sat in a burgundy velvet armchair sipping on a glass of wine. His room was lavishly furnished, but it was still only a cell. Not for the first time, I felt a wave of sympathy for the creature inside.
Claude flipped a switch on the wall and I heard the whoosh of air within the tank. It still gave me the chills.
“Hello, Victor,” I said, and he turned around and saw me.
His face grew softer and he smiled a tender smile. “Are you back so soon, girl? I lose track of time in here. How did it go?”
“Victor?” I moved closer to the thick glass wall so that he could see me clearer. His eyes opened wide and he smiled again, a different smile this time, cynical and intelligent. He was no more senile than I. And I had no doubt he was quite capable of pulling the unbelievable stunt I'd managed to piece together.
“Victor, who the hell is Lily Williams?”

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