HORROR THRILLERS-A Box Set of Horror Novels (55 page)

Alan lied, "I'm
a representative of Bartok. Bette Kinyo sent me. She called, but
someone here told her that her records were incorrect."

The man sank back
again, his hands coming unglued to grip the arms of his chair. "Ms.
Kinyo was told the truth. I don't know how she has come up with this
information about Strand-Catel. We never ship blood before testing.
It's a monumental mistake, Mr. . . ."

"Star. Alan
Star."

"Mr. Star. I
can show you our own records, if you'd like. Not all of the place is
run as . . . messily as my office." He smiled. "In fact, we
can show you records going back as many years as you like. They all
show quite different information than what Ms. Kinyo has been going
on about."

Alan didn't like
that. "Going on about" indeed. "It seems, then,"
he said, "that there is a difference of opinion. I have to tell
you, Mr. Kreeg, that Bartok does not make mistakes either. And this
being a serious allegation, it will have to be investigated
thoroughly."

Kreeg spread out
his hands in the air. "I don't know what to tell you. I am
stating the facts as I know them as the manager of this institution.
You're perfectly free to go over our own records. I can have my
secretary take you . . ."

When Kreeg leaned
forward to push a button on his intercom, Alan stood and shook his
head. "I have no choice but to believe you. I don't have time to
check today. However, be assured someone from Bartok will be coming
to see you again soon."

Alan left the
office, shutting the door behind him without saying a formal
good-bye. He was being hoodwinked and he knew it. But it was obvious
Kreeg had all the records on hand that would show the opposite of
what Bette's records indicated and to get deeper into their true
files, if they even existed, would take more than a cursory
investigation. Bette would have to send someone from her department
to put the heat on these people. They were not going to admit they'd
been shipping out their blood supplies without any other organization
double-checking their operations.

But what did all
this have to do with hunting down vampires? Alan asked himself as he
left the building. The idea had been a shot in the dark; he'd known
that even when Bette had called with her discovery. Kreeg certainly
didn't fit Alan's idea of a vampire. He was florid and heavyset, a
middle management type of guy who bought his white shirts wholesale
and wore brown wing-tip shoes to work. Besides, would vampires have
need of a blood bank? Didn't they just grab people and suck out their
blood?

Alan wanted to slap
his own face. This was the nuttiest thing he'd ever done—signing
on with Upton and agreeing to find him a living vampire. Here he was
harassing blood bank managers, for heaven sakes, and imagining they
shipped blood surreptitiously around the state for vampires to drink!
If he wasn't insane, he was teetering. He had taken on Upton's
insanity, that's what must have happened. What was he doing here in
Dallas when he was needed in the hospital in Houston? How had he
thought he would even pretend to do what Upton wanted?

He chastised
himself all the way to Landry's Restaurant, where he ordered shrimp
salad and sat alone drinking a draft beer while his food was being
prepared. Bette wouldn't be home from the lab until after six. He had
told her he would come back and report on his meeting with Kreeg, but
he had something else in mind before he did that. One more bit of
insane detective work and then he'd stop this charade and go back to
his normal life as a doctor and a healer.

He meant to stake
out Bette's house. From the time she returned home from work, until
around nine at night, he decided he would park at a distance and
watch her place to see if the mysterious stranger came back to do her
harm. He didn't buy that stuff Bette said about he wasn't human. How
he'd just appeared and then disappeared. Why was it everyone around
him had taken a slow train around the bend suddenly? First Upton, now
Bette. Vampires. Apparitions.

He stabbed his fork
into the shrimp salad, speared a mayonnaise-drenched shrimp, and
popped it into his mouth. He had an hour to kill before he called
Bette and told her he'd be late. And then he would drive over to the
scary, tumbling-down neighborhood Bette loved so much and sit in his
locked car to wait.

15

Dell had slept
fitfully the night before, waking in sweats from dreams of pursuit.
She would fall asleep again only for the dream to resume.

She had trouble
concentrating in class all day. When Ryan Major stopped her in the
hall outside their shared history class, she felt sluggish and
inattentive. She was not tired, she realized, as much as she was just
dim. She might as well be a tarnished mirror sitting in a dark attic,
reflecting dust motes. "What?" she asked, unsure of what
he'd said to her.

"I asked if
you had a boyfriend."

She almost laughed
in his face. Boyfriend! She had trouble keeping her best friends from
childhood now. She hadn't talked to Cheyenne in days. How could she
hope to interest the opposite sex?

Then she snapped to
attention, and her eyes widened. Ryan had asked the question because
he wanted to know if the field was open.

She looked into his
dark eyes and wanted the same relationship he did, in fact, wanted it
more. But Mentor had warned her. She should not let down her guard.
She changed more and more each day, becoming a separate being, and
what boy would understand her? If he did, how could he want to be
with her?

"No," she
said, carefully, "I don't have a boyfriend. I . . . I . . ."

"I know it was
a dumb question, but I didn't know anyone else to ask about you.
Listen, do you think we could go out this weekend? A movie? Dancing?"

The word yes was on
the tip of her tongue, but she couldn't say it. Instead, she pushed
past him, mumbling, "No, I couldn't." She knew how rudely
she was behaving, and hoped it would discourage him. Yet, she felt
him on her heels, his hand reaching out to touch her.

"Well, we
could do something else . . ."

She whirled on him
so fast kids in the hall turned and looked. "I said no!"

Hurt surprise
covered his face as he turned away from her. She wanted to rush after
him and take it back. She hadn't had to be so awful to him. It wasn't
his fault. He thought she hated him. He didn't know the reason she
was treating him so shabbily.

"Ryan,"
she called.

He turned warily.
"Yes?"

"Look, I'm
sorry. It's not you. It's me. I'm not . . . not myself lately."
She adjusted the sunglasses on her nose as if to emphasize her words.

He shrugged, and
she could still see the hurt lingering on his face. "It's okay."
He turned and left her standing there, students milling around her as
if she were a stone in a swiftly flowing stream.

She hung her head
and moved into the crowd, heading for her next class. She imagined
her misery was like a billboard hung around her neck. Despair came
over her, bringing such a heaviness she thought she would have to run
out of the school and all the way home.

He'd just asked her
to a movie. She might have gone with him. It wasn't a crime to go to
a movie with a friend, was it?

She turned back to
see if she could find him in the crowd. She pushed against people,
moving through them until she saw him ahead. She didn't know how she
could take back the decision not to go out with him, but she was
going to try. Looking stupid was preferable to being alone.

Then she saw him
stop in the hall and speak to a girl dressed in black jeans. She wore
a tattered black top that reached only to her waist, exposing a lily
white belly. Dell recognized her as one of the group who called
themselves "vampyres." A Loden girl, part of Loden's group.
The girl wore black lipstick that caused her lips to pout. Heavy
black mascara made her lashes long enough to sweep her cheeks.

Well. Ryan might
have picked her for his first choice for a date, but this girl was
next on his list. Or had she been the first one he had asked? How
many others had he asked before her and how many did he have lined up
to ask after the little vamp girl?

Feeling a wave of
anger unlike any she'd felt in ages, she turned on her heel and
stalked in the opposite direction down the hall. To hell with him.
She was right to brush him off. She never should have apologized and
she certainly never should have gone after him to let him know she'd
changed her mind. She hoped he hadn't noticed.

He was just like
the other boys, out looking for a good time with any female handy. He
didn't like her specifically or anything; he just wanted someone to
go out with and maybe someone to have sex with. He wasn't anything
like she'd thought he was. He wasn't special. She didn't care who he
went out with. Let him get involved with the crazy cult girls for all
she cared. They deserved him.

For the rest of the
day not only was she oblivious to the instructors in her classes, but
she burned with indignation unlike any she'd ever experienced before.
Mentor had warned her about escalating emotions. Well, she was in the
eye of an emotional storm. All she could think about was Ryan. His
very dark blue eyes. His sweet manners and the way he was kind of
innocent and gentle. The look of his shoulders and hips as he walked.

The way he bent
over the girl in dark clothes, so interested in what she was saying.
The way he hadn't protested when she'd said no, but had turned away
at once as if marking her off the list.

At home after
school, Dell threw herself on the sofa and turned on the television.
Eddie came from his room and, seeing her sprawled on the couch, said,
"What's wrong?"

"What do you
mean, 'what's wrong'? Nothing's wrong." She stabbed the remote
control, switching channels, looking for the Comedy Channel.

"Yeah,
something's wrong. You can't fool me. So what is it?"

"Eddie?"

"Yeah?"

"Shut up, will
you? And leave me alone.”

“
Fine."
He left the room and headed for the kitchen. "Hey," he
called, "you hungry?"

"No!" She
wished she'd never gotten sick, never changed, never had to taste
blood again. If she were alive, she could date Ryan, the way she'd
wanted to. She could go out with anyone. She could have lived a
normal life, gone to college on a scholarship, had a career, married
and maybe even started a family. Now all she had to look forward to
was misery and a sense of bereavement. She would make loneliness her
friend and separate herself from the real world.

She leaped from the
sofa, dropping the remote control on the coffee table. Her parents
weren't home from work yet, so she'd let Eddie know her plans. "I'm
going to ride my horse," she yelled toward the kitchen.

"I thought you
did that on weekends?"

"Oh, go to
hell, Eddie. Leave me alone. I'll be back before dark, just tell Mom
for me."

She hurried out the
door and to the car. She remembered what Mentor had told her about
controlling her emotions, riding rein on them and staying master of
her actions, but she couldn't seem to follow the advice.

Well, to hell with
Mentor, too. He didn't have to go to high school and pretend he was
one of the others. He didn't have to push away relationships and
spend every weekend alone, dateless, like some ugly duckling no one
could ever love.

Before she reached
the car she saw Carolyn coming down the sidewalk. "Hey,"
she called, smiling, waving.

Dell stood waiting
for her, unable to wipe the frown from her face.

"What's up?
Were you going somewhere?”

“
Yeah. To
ride my horse."

"Oh."
Carolyn looked disappointed.

"I'm sorry, I
need to get away for a while."

Behind Dell came
Cheyenne's voice. "Hey, you two, can I join in the fun?"

Jesus, Dell
thought. It's turning into a block party. "Hi, Carolyn. Dell,
were you going somewhere?"

Cheyenne was
looking at the car keys in Dell's hand. "To ride my horse."

"Horse! You
got a horse? Oh, my God. I know I haven't been over lately, but when
did this happen? Why didn't you tell me?"

Dell didn't know
what to say. She looked to Carolyn for support.