Hunger (21 page)

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Authors: Karen E. Taylor

BOOK: Hunger
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Ignoring the drink before me, I crossed over to the band and whispered my request. The leader nodded and began the song again as I reached Mitch's side. I put my finger to my lips and led him to the dance floor.
“Where have you been?”
“Quiet, Mitch. I'm here now.” Nestling my head against his shoulder, I closed my eyes and began to hum softly. His body relaxed and responded to mine, and we danced.
When the song was over, he held me for a time and looked down into my face and smiled. I could still see anger in his eyes, anger at my desertion of him last night, but the relief at finding me alive finally won out. He kissed me and we danced one more number before we returned to the dark corner of the bar.
“Your regular table is ready if you'd like, Miss Griffin.” The bartender nodded his head toward Max who was standing at the other end of the bar, watching us with an amused expression on his face. “We weren't expecting you tonight, but now that you're here, Max says everything's on the house.” He picked up my wine and a bottle of beer for Mitch and showed us to the table.
“What does he mean, not expecting you?” Mitch asked after we were seated.
“I usually call ahead to let them know I'm coming. It's always so crowded . . .”
“No, Hunter knew you were here all along. I could swear he did.”
“Contrary to what you believe, Mitch, I do not report to Max or anyone. I come and go as I please. And if this is another excuse to start your usual tirade about Max, I do not want to hear it, not tonight.”
“Actually, Max and I have come to an understanding.”
“Oh?” I smiled wryly. “That must have been quite a task.”
He looked at me and shook his head. “What I should have said is that I have come to understand Max. He loves you, you know.”
I laughed. “Max loves me? Are we talking about the same person?”
“I'm serious, Deirdre. I still don't like the guy, he still makes my skin crawl, but I have no doubt of how he feels about you. And I feel sorry for him. Almost as sorry as I feel for myself.”
“Why should you feel sorry for yourself?”
“Because, oh, hell, let's just forget it, okay?”
I took a drink of my wine and dropped my eyes. “Max doesn't love me. He may have wanted you to believe he did, for whatever devious purpose he had in mind. He's like that, a manipulator, not happy unless he's pulling someone's strings. But he knows me too well to love me.”
Mitch reached over and took my hand. “I love you. What on earth could make you think that if someone knows you, they couldn't love you?”
“How well do you know me, Mitch? Do you know where I was born, what my parents' names were, what I wanted to be when I grew up?”
“You know damn well you're too bloody secretive for me to know anything about you. But if you'd like to play twenty questions, I'll start. Where were you born?”
“Fort Leavenworth, Kansas.”
“Your parents' names?”
“Robert and Eleanor Grey.”
“Grey? Then Griffin was your husband's name?”
“No, I changed it for professional reasons.”
“Well then, Deirdre Grey, what did you want to be when you grew up?”
“A nurse. And the name is Dorothy.”
“Dorothy? Okay, I can live with that.”
I smiled over at him. “I really do prefer Deirdre after all this time.”
“Fine with me; you don't seem much like a Dorothy, anyway. Now, I know all that and I still love you. What can be so awful about you that I wouldn't love you?”
“Look, I'm sorry I even brought this up. It doesn't matter.”
Suddenly his eyes clouded over with anger. “It does matter, and I've decided that I like this game. Let's continue, shall we? Why did you leave me last night when you knew it was important for you to stay? You did promise to stay. Where did you go and what did you do?”
“I felt trapped. I needed to walk. I told you, I'm not used to reporting in to anyone. And although I hate to say it, that includes you also.”
“But your life was in jeopardy, didn't you realize that?”
“My life is only in jeopardy in your mind, Mitch.” I gave a small derisive laugh. “Larry won't hurt me. I'm perfectly capable of handling him.”
“Why is everyone trying to convince me that you're Wonder Woman or something? Max said pretty much the same thing, earlier. And I will tell you what I told him. Don't you think Gwen thought the same thing? You see where it got her.”
Poor Gwen, I thought sadly, in over her head and she never knew it. “Gwen was different. She was sweet, innocent and trusting. I am none of those. When I next meet Larry, I will be fully prepared to do what needs to be done.”
“When you next meet Larry I will be with you. And hopefully he will be behind bars at the time.”
“Then there's no need to discuss it, is there?”
He shrugged. “Let's get out of here, anyway. I don't like the thoughts of your being so visible and accessible.”
I laughed. “Calm down, he's hardly likely to jump up from between the dancers and drive a stake through my heart right here, Mitch. This seems to be as safe to me as anywhere. But if you have to go, don't let me stop you.”
“I don't have to go, I'm not on duty now. Just on alert. And if they need me, they know where I am.”
I finished my wine and, as if on cue, a waiter brought me another glass and Mitch another beer. He raised his eyebrows in disbelief, “Is service always so good?”
“For me it is. Let's dance.”
 
Later in the evening, Max came over and sat with us for a while. It seemed odd to have Mitch relaxed around him, he even excused himself to go to the bathroom, leaving us alone. I checked the clock, there was an hour to go.
Max saw my glance. “Going somewhere, my dear?”
Hurriedly I spoke, while studying the door for Mitch's return. “Actually, I have another appointment at twelve. It shouldn't take long, but I would prefer him not to know about it.”
“And you'd like me to cover for you? Draw him away from you so that you can leave and come back, with him none the wiser?”
I nodded. “Can you?”
“Hasn't he informed you that he and I are comrades-in-arms now? It is so rarely that I get to make a friend, this duplicity could spoil our relationship.” He smiled at me, enjoying my discomfort.
“Jesus, Max. You know as well as I that that's all just something you dreamed up. You and Mitch, friends?”
“Yes, well, then I will do as you ask. Will 11:45 give you enough time to get where you are going?”
“No problem.”
“And where are you going? With whom are you meeting?”
“It's all very mysterious, Max,” I said with an impudent grin. “Our very dear friend called for an assignation in the cellar at midnight.”
“Happy hunting, Deirdre, and be careful.” He rose as soon as Mitch returned and lightly kissed me on the cheek.
“What are you hunting, Deirdre?” His forehead had a little crease of worry that I hadn't noticed before.
I reached over the table, took his hand and pressed it to my face. “Why, you, of course.”
Chapter 16
M
ax had never done anything in a small way before, so it shouldn't have surprised me the lengths to which he went to fulfill my request. Promptly at 11:45 the fire alarm rang; panic began to grasp the people in the club. Mitch could not resist getting involved, to calm everyone and organize an orderly exodus from the club. I slipped up to the service doors, waited for the staff to leave and opened the door in the kitchen that lead to the cellars of the Ballroom of Romance.
As I descended the steps, I took the time to unscrew the light bulb and throw it to the floor. Its delicate shattering would have announced my presence but for the sound of the fire alarm still blaring upstairs. I had as long as the alarm continued, I knew, before Mitch would come looking for me. Make it last, I prayed when I got to the bottom of the stairway. I have things to say that I don't want him to hear.
The fact that I had never been here before was to my disadvantage, but I thought that well balanced with the lack of direct lighting. My night vision was perfect; Larry could hardly say the same. I walked down one of the rows of shelves and positioned myself up against the wall, so that I could see him enter. Then I collected my thoughts, and began to plan my method of attack.
I would try to reason with him first, I decided. If I could convince him that his quest was futile, that what he asked for was not a blessing and not a gift, then I could wipe his mind clean of any remembrance of me and what I was. I would need to draw his blood for that, so that the suggestion would go deep enough to block everything. Fine, I thought, and smiled into the darkness, my canines enlarging. He could then be turned over to the police and brought to justice for the death of Gwen. I trusted Mitch enough to know that he would be punished, perhaps even with the death penalty.
If none of that worked, I still had no doubt of my capacity to control him or overpower him. He was merely a human and I was what I was.
The alarm upstairs still continued and was, I realized blocking any sounds I might have heard of his arrival. An uncontrollable chill possessed me. He could be here, now, and I might not know it. And what if all his posturing, all his ambitions were simply a front for his true intentions, to rid the world of a vampire? All of my plans allowed for some sort of interplay between us; what if he arrived stake in hand and prepared for immediate murder? Could I stop him then?
In all my arrogance and complacency, the idea finally took hold; I may have made a mistake in accepting this meeting. Everything was conspiring against me, it seemed: the earsplitting alarm that took away my enhanced hearing, the fact that my opponent might know more about how to handle this situation than I.
It is not too late to run, my mind urged. I had come down early, he might not be here yet. Choking back my brief spell of panic, I took a step forward, heading toward the stairs. Under the blaring siren I could hear nothing but the low thudding of feet on the floor above. One of the thuds sounded close at hand and I shrunk back into my corner. But it was not followed by any other sound. I waited for a minute, alert and listening; all of the sounds seemed distant and non–threatening.
Now, I thought, I can make the stairs and get Mitch. Once Larry was in custody, I would be free. It was unlikely that any of his wild stories about me would be believed; I possessed the damaging evidence. Larry, on the other hand, was defenseless and likely to be taken for a raving lunatic, guaranteeing his incarceration for some time to come. With a breath of relief I edged forward, listening, watching.
Suddenly the screech of the siren stopped, but it was too late for my escape. Larry had made his approach, silently and stealthily, now I felt his warm breath on the side of my neck. Whirling around, I faced him and he caught my wrists in his hands. I made no move, assessing the strength of his grip on me; he was stronger than I would have thought possible. And although I believed that I could break free should I wish to, I knew that when he held me, he could hold nothing else. No hammer, no stake.
My arsenal of weapons was always available. I smiled seductively at him, trying to meet his eyes. “Larry.”
“You're early,” he said in a husky voice.
“As are you.” I tried to move closer to him, attempted to get my teeth on his neck, but he locked his arms and held me away from him.
“No tricks, Deirdre. I don't trust you, not yet. And I know you can do nothing to me if I don't look into your face.” He moved his arm up, still gripping my hand, and stroked my cheek with his fist. “Such a lovely face, too.”
“Then look at me, Larry.” My voice was pitched low and urgent, a request to a lover.
“No.”
I tried a different approach. “Larry, what you want, I have never done before. I don't know how to transform you; I don't even know if it is possible.”
“It's possible, and you will do it.”
“No, it is not a good thing. You don't want my life; it was forced on me, I had no choice. All those lonely years, Larry, you just can't visualize how horrible it can be. You're young, you have a good life ahead of you. Don't throw it away for this, it's not worth it. Believe me, I know.”
His laughter echoed in the room. It sounded hollow, evil. “It's what I want. I've got nothing ahead of me now, don't you think I know that? If you don't transform me, here and now, they will catch me and try me for murder.” He laughed again and I shivered. “Then my good life consists of jail or death.”
“You shouldn't have killed them, Larry. It was wrong.”
“Them?” He shook my hands. “I only killed Gwen. She served her purpose well, of course, and for that I'm thankful.”
“And her purpose was?”
His voice was calm, reasonable in his rationalization. “She made it possible for me to get you here, alone, with what I want.”
“I would have come. You didn't need to kill her! And it did not need to be that way.” I shuddered slightly and he laughed.
“But it was the most effective way of getting my message to you. Besides, let's be honest here, compared with all the others you have murdered over the years, what's one poor silly girl like Gwen?”
“I have never killed anyone.”
“Never? I find that hard to believe. And I know for a fact it's not true.”
“How could you?”
“You have my book. Did you wonder where that first picture came from? It's been in my family for generations, along with the story of the beautiful lady who bled and killed wounded soldiers. Always at night, always with a smile. My great-grandfather inherited the picture and the story from his father. He's the one on the far right. And I always assumed the story was embellished over the years, magnified to scare the children. But when I met you, I recognized you immediately. Then I stayed quiet, followed you, watched you. It wasn't hard to draw the conclusions I did. Or to track you over the years; all it took was belief. No one would think to look for a vampire, no one believes in you.”
I made no attempt to justify my actions for him. His mind was made up and until he met my eyes or allowed me close enough to feed I could only stand there, trapped by his strong hands.
“But I believe,” he said, the tenderness of his voice at odds with the tense, violent stance of his body. “And I will be one. You must do it, take me and change me. I can fill the years for you, Deirdre. You will finally have someone who loves you, to stay with you forever.”
“But . . .” I was about to say I didn't want him, could never love him. He felt my reluctance and tightened his grip on my wrists. I changed my tactics again. “But, Larry, my love, you must let me close enough to change you. I can hardly do it at arms' length.”
He gave me a doubtful look, then shook his head. A lock of his hair fell over one eye and he impatiently brushed it aside, using his hand, still holding my wrist. I took advantage of the contact and stroked his hair and cheek before he dropped his arm.
“Oh, Larry. You don't understand, do you? I was only testing you, I had to make sure that your resolve was strong, your desire true. Because the whole time that you were watching me, I was watching you, wanting you, grooming you for immortality. Trust me, my love. You won't be sorry.” I laughed, low and sexy, and he sighed with longing. “But you must let me get close to you. You'll like it,” I purred. “It's an incredible experience. Better than love. Better than anything you can possibly imagine. I have so much to teach you, to show you. What would you like to know? Shall I tell you of the beauty of the nights, the feeling of being free and secure in a world of people who exist only to satisfy your every need? Shall I tell you of the power of life and death, the crisp touch of teeth to tender skin, the warm flow of life. Or shall I tell you of love?” My body writhed as if in remembrance. “Shall I tell you how a vampire makes love, or shall I show you?”
He said nothing, just stared down at me, still avoiding my glance. The only sign that he was weakening was the glistening of sweat on his forehead.
I turned up the heat some more. “Just imagine, Larry, your senses are heightened, your pleasure is enhanced, your endurance and strength are unimaginable to a human. You will be able to call women to you, all women, any woman you want. They will worship your perfect body with their bodies and their hands and their mouths.”
His breathing was labored now, his tongue darted out to lick his lips.
“Oh, Larry, think about it. Even a single touch can drive you to a sexual frenzy that is humanly impossible. And love with another vampire, oh, Larry, I can't find words to describe it. You must let me show you, let me show you.”
He said nothing, but his arms began to tremble.
“You will let me do it, won't you, Larry?” I spoke eagerly and earnestly and felt my words hit him. “You must let me do it, Larry. I can feel it now, your blood and my blood, intermeshed, blending together, as our bodies . . .” I let my voice trail off in a low moan.
His arms loosened and relaxed; I moved up to him, rubbed my body against his and he groaned. “Now,” I whispered, “now,” and I sunk my teeth deeply into his neck.
I was right, I realized as I let myself be carried away in the flow of his blood, it was incredible. His hardened penis pressed urgently against me, he was willingly giving himself to me, not pushing away but welcoming my bite, pulling me deeper into him. Almost, I wished I could take him with me.
Almost, except for the image of Gwen, naked with her blood spattered about my bed. Poor silly girl he had called her. I removed my bloodied mouth from him. “Bastard,” I hissed; all the rage in my soul was contained in that whisper and he rocked back from the sound, even as I positioned myself for a slashing bite.
He stared at me, his eyes glazed over. Then his hand shot out, and gripped my wrists again. God, he was strong. I had read about the strength of madmen, but had never realized its truth until now. He whipped me around and pressed me up against the wall, his eyes glinting dangerously in the darkness.
“I should have known better than to trust you, Deirdre,” and he reached behind him, stooping, still holding me against the wall. I struggled but his grip held. “I came prepared.” And he held up a wooden stake and a mallet that he had hidden. “There are more ways than one to get your blood. I can just as easily drink it from your dying body. And although, you'd be gone; I can still find other women, younger, more beautiful than you, who'd be happy to take your place.”
“Larry, it doesn't work that way.”
“No, I won't listen to you. It must work, it has to.” He pinioned my body against the wall with his legs, placed the stake over my heart and raised the mallet.
“No,” I screamed, dodging away from his strike, and heard my scream's echo from the stairs, seconds before a searing pain flashed in my shoulder. He missed, I thought, confused as the hammer dropped from his hand and the stake clattered to the ground. Then he fell, and took me with him, his legs still gripping mine. Larry was dead and his blood was flowing over me, soothing the pain in my arm.
“Oh, God, Deirdre.” Mitch rushed down the stairs. “Oh, Deirdre,” he cried again.
“Mitch, I'm not hurt. He's dead, just get him off of me.”
Quickly, Mitch rolled the body from me. I pushed my hand against the wall and stood up. My whole right side was drenched in blood, some of it mine. But I would not tell him that, the hole left by the bullet that had passed through Larry, would heal quickly. Too quickly for explanations.
“Jesus, look at you.”
“It's okay, Mitch. I wasn't hit, all this is Larry's.”
“Are you sure?”
“Of course I'm sure. Why would I lie about it?”
I took a step toward him, but my legs were trembling and I couldn't move. He came to me then, held me tightly and whispered into my hair. “I almost lost you, do you know what that would have done to me?” He lifted me up and kissed me.
“Mitch,” I said when he finally released my mouth, “thank you.”

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