Downbeat (Biting Love) (35 page)

When the fire was out and his temperature had gone down, he shut off the water. Dripping, he returned to the front room and kicked the door closed with his foot.

She’d gone out, and he couldn’t follow her. He closed his eyes and reached for her essence…his eyes snapped open on a growl. She was beyond the range of blood-locating. It frustrated the hell out of him. The longer he waited, the colder her physical trail would get.

Unless he could find where she’d gone some other way. The phone had been ringing before he’d left. Had she answered? Had she gone because of it?

He misted to the phone, hoping for a pad of paper, top sheet hastily ripped off with dents revealing her intentions.

A single piece lay there. He picked it up. Ten parallel lines slashed across the page, dots on and within them. The dots had no stems, and the lines weren’t grouped but he recognized it immediately as a grand staff, the full range of the piano.

His heart thudded in his chest. It was a message from Raquel to him.

He read it eagerly. The notes were C-B-C-A-G, followed by Cs in several different octaves.

Cbcag? Cs, meaning Seas…or seize? It made no sense to him.

Even as he puzzled over the paper, he suddenly thought to wonder—where was Raquel’s mother?

I stared at the door where Dragan had disappeared. He’d underlined there was no
us
by running away.

My throat thickened and my brimming eyes overflowed.

The phone’s jangle ripped my raw nerves to shreds. I grabbed the handset and barked, “Hello.”

“Rocky? Wonderful news! I got an art commission.”

“Mom? Where are you?” Her voice pulled me back from the brink. I swiped my wet cheeks, took a deep breath and listened.

“I’m with my new client.” Her voice muffled as if she was shielding her mouth with a hand. “He’s rich.”

“It’s about time someone recognized your talent.” But even as I congratulated her, my stomach was churning. Something was off.

“He wants to talk with you.”

The churning dropped into my legs. The strength left them and I collapsed onto a nearby chair. “Mom, wait—”

“Hello, Rocky Hrbek.”

The voice was dry and raspy, as if all the moisture had been sucked out of it—or all the life had been siphoned off.

I clutched the handset tighter. “Who is this?”

“Your mother’s new client. Arnaud Nosferatu. Perhaps you’ve heard of me?”

“Yes,” I whispered. Head of CIC where I worked, and the evil man behind the monster, Gravloth. “Let me speak to my mother.”

“In a moment. If you do as I ask.”

My ears began to ring. “What do you want?”

“I have recently acquired a new…associate.”

“Congratulations.” I spat it.

“He’ll be a great asset to my organization. But before he’ll fully commit, he has a requirement. As a, well, shall we call it a signing bonus? As his signing bonus, he wants—you.”

My heart began to pound in my ears, wool-wrapped thuds over the ringing. “Me.” It was no more than I’d decided to do myself, but somehow hearing it in that dead rasp intensified the devouring horror. “What do you want?”

“Come meet him, my dear, get to know him. You’ll like him.”

“We’ve met,” I managed. “I wasn’t that impressed.”

“I was afraid you might feel that way. Which is why I engaged your artistic mother. She’s here with us. Oh, she’s fine, and she’ll stay that way—as long as you cooperate.”

I clenched my eyes.

“Come alone. Contact no one. I have spies in place, and I’ll know instantly if you deviate from my instructions. Do you understand?”

I forced myself to answer. “Yes.”

“Good. This is the address. Memorize it. Do not write it down. 2271 East Crescent.” He hung up.

I cradled the phone, dying inside.

This was it. Somehow I thought I’d have more time, to say goodbye, to put my affairs in order…but Nosferatu’s spies were watching. I couldn’t even write a farewell note.

A new horror struck me. What if I wasn’t able to free Mom before the mating? From what Elias had said, I’d have to devote every particle of my being to remaining sane, to concentrate on getting Gravloth into the sun.

Which would leave Mom alone with Nosferatu.

I had to leave a message.

But how? It had to be unreadable by Nosferatu’s spies. If only I knew a code, or a foreign language… Wait. I knew a language so foreign, it didn’t even use letters.

The address was in Chicago. Musical notes went from A to G—I could use them for the letters C, A and G. I grimaced. No one would get Chicago from CCAG.

Except in German musical nomenclature, B natural was H. With H, I could spell Chcag. I found a piece of paper and slashed a double staff onto it, then penciled the notes adding a natural sign to the B.

Now, how to code the address number? I’d have used first line 1, first space 2, and so on, except I was already using staff positions as letters.

Numbers, numbers…I snapped my fingers. The seven notes repeat themselves in higher and higher forms called octaves. One convention numbers the octaves. I penciled in C2, C2, C7, C1. A bar line, an E for east and…fuck. How did I do Crescent? CECE didn’t look anything like a Crescent.

Wait. Crescent, abbreviated, could be Cresc—like the musical word
crescendo
, which meant to get louder. The symbol was two lines opening up. I drew a < under the bar and inspected my message.

Not obvious. Nosferatu’s spies certainly wouldn’t figure it out. I could only hope Dragan was savvier.

If he even came back.

No, I couldn’t worry about that now. I had to find my mother and hopefully rescue her from a bunch of vampires before sacrificing myself on the monster mating altar.

I set down the paper and turned toward the door. Once I stepped through, I probably wouldn’t survive the next twenty-four hours.

For Mom’s life and that of my friends, worth it.

Still, I took a few seconds to gather my worldly possessions into a backpack to take with me. My purse. My flute. I swallowed as I gazed one last time around my home. I wished I could pack it all.

Slinging the backpack over my shoulder I spun for the door. Eyes followed me. My own eyes burned with tears. Mom’s kitchy art, appreciated by no one but me and, unaccountably, Dragan.

In case neither of us made it out alive, I grabbed a tiny dwarf, the last memento of my mother I might ever have, and stashed it in my backpack.

Then I flung open the door. Time to finish this.

The address was an empty store in an abandoned strip mall. I peered inside. Sunshine slanted through big plate glass front windows onto bare clothes racks and nude mannequins, the stripped corpse of a clothes store.

The front door was unlocked. I slid just inside, keeping to the pool of sunlight. Some of it was for courage, to combat the acid fear eating away the strength in my muscles. But some of it was calculation. I was dealing with vampires. While Dragan had struck out into the daylight, hopefully the sun would at least slow these guys down.

The middle of the store was shadowed. It took my eyes a moment to adjust, but my ears were wide open.

“Enough is enough.” The alto was Camille’s. “I should be first lieutenant—”

“She’s here.” That murky growl was Gravloth’s.

The crash of cymbal-sized boots neared. I cringed… They stopped. “Go get her for me.”

“Get her yourself.” That was Nosferatu’s dead rasp.

“She’s in the sun,” Gravloth said. “I just combed my hair.”

I blinked at that. The monster wanted to look nice for me?

“Master,” Camille said. “I should be first lieutenant. Let me show you what you’d be missing.”

“Because that worked so well last time.” That was Giuseppe’s sarcastic drawl. “Oh, put your breasts away, Camille. We’ve all seen them before.”

The one voice I wanted to hear, my mother’s, was missing. Guts twisting, I scanned for her as my eyes adjusted. The store was bare, but its skeleton was still evident in the metal hanger bars jutting like bones from the walls.

Four forms skulked in the shadows. The big hulk was Gravloth, the hourglass shape jerkily retying her halter strings was Camille. If the taller man was Giuseppe, the short, slender man must be Nosferatu. I’d seen pictures at CIC but he looked different in person. Smaller.

But where was my mother? My stomach fell into a bottomless pit. How could I rescue her if I couldn’t even find her?

I shoved my hair back with both hands, as if that would help me see better. Without knowing where she was, I was unsure what to do.

“You’re no fucking help.” Camille spun toward Giuseppe, her expression so angry I could see it clearly despite the shadows. “Why do I fuck you if you won’t support me?”

Yikes.

He touched her cheek with mock tenderness. He was wearing another disguise, a black wig, blue contacts and some sort of face putty that made him look like Julian, except Julian would never have worn that smug, scornful smile. “Because you love me, darling.” His drawled “dahling” was a taunt of hers.

“Bring me my mate.” A cymbal crashed—Gravloth stamping his foot. “Now.”

“Maybe you can be useful, Camille,” Nosferatu said. “Maybe you could be his mate. Then I wouldn’t have to pacify a human. Go on, try to interest him. Prove your worth to me.”

Her long-nailed hands clenched. “All right, I will.”

She misted, her clothes dropping to the floor, and reformed nude. She was as perfect as an airbrushed photo, or a marble statue, smooth golden skin, high round breasts, tiny waist and two gold hoops, the first drawing the eye to her dimple of a navel and the second farther down to her naked coral labia.

She tossed her mane of black hair. “I wasn’t trying before. Now I am.” She launched herself at Gravloth. Her long thighs wrapped around his tree trunk waist. Her nails lengthened and thickened into claws which she dug into his shoulders—as she seized his mouth in the wettest, tonguiest kiss I’d ever seen.

Part of me was happy at the reprieve. But part was screaming to get in there and mate him before she screwed my chance to save my friends. I could only hope my mother was somewhere she could run in the confusion. I took a step forward.

“Yuck.” Gravloth peeled Camille off him and threw her bodily away.

She flew backward into one of the jutting bars. It impaled her with a sick
shuck
.

There was a moment of profound silence. I stopped short, staring in horror. The bar protruded from just below her breastbone. She hung like a puppet. Bloody bubbles popped in her mouth.

Then Giuseppe laughed. “That was the lamest seduction ever.”

“Help me.” She started wriggling on the bar.
She was alive
.

“Do something,” I yelled at them. “Get her down from there!”

“Says the next victim.” Giuseppe laughed harder.

“Master, please.” Tears glistened in Camille’s green eyes. “I worked so hard for you for so long. Promote me, as you promised.”

Nosferatu looked away.

And the Soul Stealer? He was busy checking himself out in the mirrored shine of one metal-clad post, slicking his hair back with a palm.

“Oh, for heaven’s sake.” I stomped to where she was pinned, grabbed her by the hips and pulled.

“Where did I go wrong?” She slid off the bar with a nauseating glissando of meat and blood, and dropped onto her feet, wavering. “Why won’t they help me?” Her yearning eyes were on the male vampires, her chest hole closing even as she spoke.

“Camille, some people are worth it. And some—” I pointed at Nosferatu and Giuseppe, “—are not. Why are you trying to please those dickheads? Live your own life.”

Her gaze jumped to me, surprised. She opened her mouth to say something.

“
Mine
.”

I spun.

Gravloth, arms extended, rushed toward me.

My stomach flipped. My legs burned with the need to run away.

But I’d come here for this. Besides, I’d never escape in time.

I stood there as the monster bore down on me. My life might be forfeit, and I might not be able to rescue my mother, but for my friends’ sake I had to be strong.

I closed my eyes and clenched my fists and prepared to be swallowed whole.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Dragan stared at the stemless notes and felt more helpless than he’d ever felt in his life, even when the vampire attacked his family and all he could do was die.

The lines blurred and tinged red. He squeezed his lids shut and heard the ping of a tear drop hit the paper. He opened his eyes, horrified to see the tiny flat in the key signature smeared with red…he sucked in a breath. The notes weren’t C-B-C-A-G, they were C-H-C-A-G, like Chicago.

With that key he decrypted Raquel’s musical message.

Life came back to him. He called Logan Steel. Logan and his twin came immediately in the limo, driven by Miyagi. Dragan wasn’t sure if Miyagi was in on the vampire secret or would need to be wiped later. But it didn’t matter now. They formulated a plan and sent Bo to pick up one essential Meiers Corners vampire and prepare their ambush while he and the Steels sped to the address.