Crave (46 page)

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Authors: Karen E. Taylor

BOOK: Crave
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“Me?”
“Yes, do you like being a vampire?”
“It is all I have known for so very long, Claude.” We entered the back door of The Imperial and got on the elevator for the Cadre level. “I struggled for years, on my own. No guidance, no training. Had Max stayed around, things might have been different. Things should have been different. But they weren't. The cycle of life goes on all around me and I remain untouched. I have held on to my humanity for too long, I think.”
We stopped outside my door and he unlocked it for me. “And so you don't like it?” he said.
I kissed him on the cheek. “In a word, Claude? No. But I do not know how to let it go. And I cannot stop from hoping that there is some purpose to my life beyond feeding and sleeping and yearning after the sun. Good night.”
I closed the door and lay down on the bed. I felt the sun begin to rise, and I cried myself to sleep.
Part 5
Chapter 29
L
ooking out the window of the chartered plane, I tried as hard as I could to ignore, without seeming to, the man who sat holding my hand. He was a stranger. And a dangerous one at that.
It had, at first, gone all too easily. From the moment she had left the cabin to the moment her loving husband and I had boarded the plane, I'd been prepared for a fight, a protest, something that would interfere. It had all gone according to plan, and that made me nervous. Deep down inside, maybe I was hoping that it wouldn't go this far.
But he'd accepted me without a question; he'd been happy and loving and trusting. At least until we boarded the plane. It worried me quite a lot; up until now I'd have had a way to escape, should he discover that I wasn't who I pretended to be. Now I had nowhere to run and nothing much in the way of protection. I fingered the beads hidden under my shirt. “Please,” I whispered. “Please.”
“Deirdre?”
When I didn't respond, he squeezed my hand. “Deirdre? Come back.”
I jumped and laughed. “Sorry, Mitch. I wasn't paying attention. What did you say again?”
“I said your name.” He gave me a sharp look. “Are you feeling all right? You seem kind of edgy.”
“Edgy? Me?” I shook my head. “No, I'm not edgy.” I paused a second, trying to think of what sort of complaints a vampire might have and settled on the obvious. “I'm hungry.”
“You are too edgy. But I know what you mean about hunger. It's been scarce pickings lately. Will we have time to feed after we get there?”
“I'm sure we can manage something.”
“Good.” He leaned over and gave me a kiss on the cheek. “Go back to your window-watching, my love; I know how you are on planes.”
He got up from his seat and wandered about the plane, poking into the compartments and bins. While he was distracted, I allowed myself a small look around and a smug smile. This sure beat sitting elbow-to-elbow with sweaty people on a hot, stuffy bus. It was even better than the first-class flight from New York to Maine. “Nice plane, huh?” I called to him just as he called out to me, “I found the bar. Do you want a drink?”
“Sure. That'd be great. I'll have whatever you're having, thanks.”
I heard the clink of ice, heard the liquid sound of something being poured into glasses, heard him walk up next to me.
“Did you say something about the plane?”
“Yeah, but it's not a big deal.” I reached a hand up for the glass. “Thanks, love. What is it?”
“Scotch.”
Victor had filled me in on likes and dislikes for both Mitch and my mother, but there had been so much he'd told me. I'd tried to focus on names and events as being the most important. But I did remember him mentioning Mitch drinking scotch. And so, it seemed natural that he and my mother would both indulge. “Oh,” I said, “that's good.”
He stood over me. “I know how much you enjoy a scotch every now and then.” He took a sip from his glass. “This is a particularly good one, actually. Nothing like a single-malt to bring happy times into proper perspective.”
“That's true, Mitch.” I raised my glass and clinked it against his. “Here's to all our happy times.”
He took a seat across from me this time. I could feel his cold blue gaze on me as I sipped at my drink.
“What is it, Mitch? Is something wrong?”
“Nothing's wrong, Deirdre, my love. What could possibly be wrong? Here I am in the embrace of my loving wife, who has gone to a lot of trouble and expense to plan a surprise vacation for me. I'm thrilled.”
I gave him a smile and a nod before turning back to the window. “Anyway, we'll be landing soon.”
“And then what?”
“It's a surprise,” I said.
Provided Angelo follows my instructions,
I thought,
a very big surprise.
“But”—I looked over at him—“your glass is empty. Let me get you another.”
I got up from my seat and went to the bar, feeling his eyes follow every move I made. “This plane reminds me of the one we took from England,” he said from his seat. “In fact, it seems almost exactly the same. I guess they build them all the same, but even so, it seems strange. Don't you think?”
“Not all that strange,” I said over my shoulder. “It's Victor's plane.”
“And exactly how did you manage that? Last I heard, Victor was crazier than a loon. Has been ever since his pretty-boy friend was killed. What was his name again?”
I smiled, my back still to him. Finally, a test. And one to which I knew the answer. I turned around and leaned up against the bar. “Victor may be crazier than a loon, Mitch, but you aren't. And you know the name as well as I do. Ron Wilkes. In fact,” I said, remembering another bit of truth to throw into the deception, “he copiloted the flight from England.” I laughed and guessed. “You never liked him much, did you?”
My correct answer should have relaxed him. “No, I sure as hell did not. I'm sure you can remember why.” He was far from relaxed; his mouth tightened and his eyes bored into me.
I licked my lips and ran a hand over my front jeans pocket, taking small comfort in the three little bulges I felt. “Emergencies only,” Victor had said. I thought, somehow, that this would qualify. But I needed to gain just a few seconds without Mitch's sharp eyes watching me.
“Do me a favor, love? Go up to the cockpit and check when we'll be landing. I want to see the city lights as we fly in.”
Mitch scowled at first, and then gave a small twisted smile. “You and your window-watching. Okay, I'll check.”
As he turned to go, I spun around again and reached into my pocket, pulling out the vial of Angelo's confusion potion and one of the two small capsules Victor had given me. I didn't have time to think. With shaky hands I opened the vial first and then the capsule, pouring the entire contents of both into Mitch's glass, and stuffed the empty containers back into my pocket.
By the time Mitch came back down the aisle, I had finished pouring the scotch and swirled it around a bit. I put the glass up to my mouth and pretended to take a sip, while I sniffed at it. It smelled like scotch. I handed it to him, thankful he didn't prefer vodka.
He took it from me, drank it down in one gulp and dumped the leftover ice into the sink. “The pilot says we'll be there in about five minutes and suggests that we sit down and fasten our seat belts. I'll clean up here first.”
I looked at the ice in the sink. Was there a residue of powder? “Don't be silly, Mitch. I'll put this all away.”
“Sit.” His voice was harsh and commanding. Then he smiled briefly. “I can manage to put away a few glasses without your help. And you wouldn't want to miss your first view of the city, would you?”
I went back to my seat and sat down. Minutes later, he sat across from me. “All done,” he said. “Now we don't have to worry about flying glassware during touchdown.”
I looked out the window as I was expected to. He stared at me a while, then sat next to me, peering over my shoulder. “It's a pretty sight, isn't it?” His voice tickled my ear and I shivered. “Glad to be back, honey?”
“Back?” My voice cracked slightly and I cleared my throat. “I've never been here before. You should know that.” I turned my head and found myself nose-to-nose with him. The expression on his face was that of pure fury.
“No,” he hissed at me, his canines growing with his anger, “I know that Deirdre Griffin has never been here before. But you? You are not Deirdre.” He grabbed my shoulders with unbelievably strong hands and shook me. “Damn it, you look like her, you smell like her. Enough to make even me wonder. Your voice is right and you give all the right answers. But you don't speak the way she does. I get no feeling for your soul, as if a stranger had crawled into her skin. When I touch you, you don't respond right. And your eyes are wrong.” He paused, loosening his grip on me; his eyes glazed over. He shook himself, as if trying to rid himself of the drug, but it was useless. His eyelids drooped; his hands fell from me and dropped at his side. “What did you put in my drink?”
I smiled, offering Victor a silent thanks. “Amitriptyline. It won't hurt you, really, just slow you down a bit.”
“And then what do you plan to do with me? Drop me off at a park bench somewhere to watch the sunrise?” He said the words slowly, making a visible effort to control his speech.
“I intend to keep you. Safe and whole. You won't be harmed.”
“Keep me? For how long?”
“Until my mother comes for you.”
“Your mother? Who the hell are you?”
I laughed at his confusion. “My name is, at least currently, Lily Williams.”
He gazed at me blankly. “Lily Williams?”
I nodded. “That's right, Lily Williams. Beloved daughter of John and Dorothy Grey Williams. Born in 1860. Any of this sound familiar, Mitch?”
He rolled his eyes and worked his mouth for a while before he managed the words. “You're Deirdre's daughter?”
“Nice to meet you.” I laughed. “Although I guess under the circumstances, I probably shouldn't call you Daddy.”
Chapter 30
W
hen the plane finally taxied to a stop and the roar of the engines died out, I called to the pilot. “Can you get me a wheelchair, or a cart or something? My friend is just a little bit disoriented.”
The pilot studied Mitch lying limply in the seat. “Should I call for an ambulance? He looks pretty bad.”
I shook my head. “No. This happens periodically. Stress or something. Brings on little seizures. He'll be okay after a bit of a rest.”
“Whatever you say, Miss. Victor says you're the boss on this trip.”
With the pilot's help, I managed to get Mitch into the wheelchair and off the plane. I'd bundled him up in one of the blankets as if he were an invalid, and people naturally accepted him as such.
Angelo was waiting at the gate for me. “Miss Lily,” he yelled, walking toward us, “welcome home. And what have we here?”
“This is my stepfather, Mitchell Greer.”
“But”—Angelo peered at him closely—“he one of them. How you do this to him?”
“Modern science, 'Lo. Beats that voodoo stuff anytime.”
“My medicines didn't work?” His expression was doubtful and pained.
I touched his arm. “Actually, they worked quite well. I just didn't want to take any chances.”
“I suppose you get that hair with modern science too?”
I nodded. “Extensions. I'll have them taken out tomorrow. But it's amazing, isn't it?”
Angelo chuckled and took the wheelchair handles. “It's something, that's for sure. So what now?”
“Is the tank finished?”
“Well, Lily, I'm glad you asked. It weren't easy; those are some pretty weird-ass instructions you sent along. And it cost twice as much as you expected—to get them to do it fast and right. But yeah, it done. I don't suspect Moon would care for what we do to her bedroom.”
“Moon's dead. That's what started this whole crazy thing.” I sighed and leaned over Mitch, touching his hand. His eyes rolled open briefly and his mouth opened and closed. I laughed. “Later, Mitch, we'll talk later. For now, let's get you to your new home.”
 
It took half an hour to find a van that would accommodate Mitch and the wheelchair. And another thirty minutes to get from the airport to the house. I kept checking my watch, nervous as a cat. There was plenty of time until dawn, so I didn't have to fear breaking my promise to Mitch or Victor that there would be no deaths. But I wasn't entirely sure how long before the drug would wear off. And I sure as hell didn't want him loose when it did.
I paid the cab driver when we arrived, and left Angelo to struggle with Mitch while I went inside the house to inspect the holding tank. Even standing in Moon's bedroom, it looked exactly like those in the cellars of The Imperial. It had been furnished with nothing but a cot, fastened to one of the side walls. I inspected the dials, remembering Victor's instructions; it all seemed as it should. I shrugged; I was hardly an expert in the incarceration of vampires.
So,
I thought,
whether it will hold him or not, time will tell.
Angelo approached with the chair. “Do we just wheel him in and shut the door?”
I shook my head. “I don't want him to have anything around that he can use to break the glass. We'll move him onto the cot and then shut the door.”
“He awful cold,” Angelo said as he gripped Mitch under his arms. “You don't suppose he dead, do you?”
“His eyes are still open and moving, so, no, I don't suppose he's dead. On the count of three?” I held Mitch's ankles. “One, two, three.” 'Lo heaved him up out of the chair and I swung his legs over. We laid him out like a corpse, his arms folded over his chest. Then we pushed the chair back out and closed and sealed the door. I flipped a switch on the control panel, turning on the microphone, so that I could tell when he woke up. Then I checked and locked the shutters at the window, pulled the two sets of heavy curtains closed, turned off the overhead light and went out to the living room.
Angelo was in the kitchen. “What do I do now, Angelo?” I sat down in a chair at the small table and sighed. “I have a semiconscious vampire locked up in a large glass tank in Moon's bedroom. And to be honest, right now I have no idea why I've done this. It made sense at one point, I guess, but now?”
Angelo shuffled over to me and handed me a glass of brandy, setting the bottle on the table in front of me. “You sendin' a message to your mama, is what you're doin'. Can you forget how bad you felt all these years, knowin' she did what she did to you? Buryin' you before your time? Leavin' you to be raised by strangers? Never once wonderin' about you? Never once carin' if you still lived? This all is a message, Miss Lily, and one she won't soon forget. You stole somethin' from her as she stole from you.”
“And when she gets the message and comes after him? What happens then?”
Angelo chuckled. “Lord, Lily, I don't know. But it'll be a powerful thing to witness. She not likely to hurt you, you her own blood. Even to such as them, that got to matter.”
I shrugged. “I guess so.”
“And in the meantime, child”—he leaned over me, smiling in my face—“you give me such a gift. That man, he be hummin' with power. I can feel it runnin' along my skin like a river's current.”
“But what good will it do you? You can't use his power.”
“Maybe not. But I can learn from it. I can study it. That creature in there, he like a living god. He won't never die, Miss Lily, not on his own. Think of it. Even you grow older, even you will die someday. You can count your years if you want. But he will walk the earth after you and I are dust in the eyes of the gods. I want a piece of that, child.”
“He is not to be harmed, Angelo. I promised.”
“Hush, child, I won't harm him. But we need to think about feedin' him. Just that short time I touched him, I felt a strong hunger.”
I finished my drink and poured myself another. “I don't know about that, 'Lo. It doesn't seem like a good idea.”
“Well, don't think on it for too long, Lily. Eventually he come out of that cage, one way or another. You want to be standin' in his way when he does? Not me, no, sir, I like the blood in my body to stay just exactly where it is, thank you very much.”
I shook my head and stood up. “I can't think anymore tonight. I'm tired and I need some sleep. So you should go now and I'll see you tomorrow.”
“You go to bed if you need to, Lily. But I'm not leaving you alone in this house with that creature. I stay here on the couch. Just in case.”
“Whatever.” I walked down the hall and stood in the doorway to Moon's room. Mitch was lying as we'd left him, but his eyes followed me and his mouth moved. “You won't be hurt,” I said to him, “and when my mother gets here, you'll be free to go. This was never about you.”
I sighed, closed the door and went into my room. Lying down on the bed fully dressed, I stared at the ceiling awhile and pictured what my mother was feeling right now. Totally alone in the world, abandoned without notice and without explanation. It was possible that she hadn't yet realized the situation, but eventually she would return to the cabin, finding it empty and deserted. “You're lucky, bitch,” I whispered in anger. “You, at least, don't have to dig your way up to the surface and go through decades of agonized yearning for someone to return to you.”
How long would it take for her to find us? She had to make the effort; everything I'd learned about her pointed to her finer qualities. Her sense of duty and moral obligation. Her compassion for others. Her deep ability to love. I laughed at the irony of the situation. Had she just followed through on all of that with me, there wouldn't be a situation.
I rolled over and looked at the clock. Three hours before dawn and still not a sound from Mitch. If he stayed quiet until sunup, we'd at least have another full day of safety; he'd never attempt to break out in broad daylight.
I got up from bed to check on him one more time. The house was dark now; Angelo had turned out all of the lights, leaving only the candles on Moon's altar burning. I could hear Angelo chanting softly; the sound was musical, hypnotic. The hair rose briefly on my arms and I shivered. I didn't ask what spirits he petitioned; I didn't want to know. He walked a darker path than Moon ever had. One did not become a bokor without the taint of death.
Sensing my presence, he looked up at me, his eyes reflecting the candle flames. He nodded once without stopping his chant, and I left him to his devotions.
Outside of Moon's closed door was a small pile of bones and feathers, a charm Angelo had no doubt left there to keep us safe from what was within. I smiled and left it undisturbed as I opened the door a crack and peered in.
It took my eyes a while to adjust to the darkness, but eventually I could make out the still form lying there. He hadn't moved; his arms were still crossed over his chest. Only the glare of his eyes betrayed his awareness of me. “Good night, Mitch,” I said. “See you in the morning.”

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